#i know authorities will try to blame this on how insecure everything is

[mala-santa-radfem]

i'm so fucking sick to my stomach to hear how college girls (GIRLS MY AGE, GIRLS THAT LOOK LIKE ME, THAT LIVE LIKE ME, THAT HAVE THE SAME DREAMS AS ME) disappear and the next day they're found dead in their universities. i see cases like that almost every month while feminist groups in my uni are BEGGING for safety protocols every day because we're fucking scared, while those girls' families beg for justice. THIS IS FEMINICIDE.

[scarluna]

KNOCKOUT (001)

⸺ ݂ ํ Synopsis : ꣒

Y/N is a depressed, closed off, anxious and insecure plus-sized girl. She does not believe she deserves love nor anything good in her life. However by destiny, she meets Jungkook. A fighter, a biker and a guy that changes the way she sees the world.

⸺ ݂ ํ Characters : ꣒ Jeon Jungkook x Y/N

⸺ ݂ ํ Chapters: 1/?

⸺ ݂ ํ Trigger warnings : ꣒ mature language, mental health problems, depression, su!c!d1l thoughts, fatph0bia, illegal substances, smoking, anxiety, body dysmorphia, maladaptive daydreaming, making out, traumas

⸺ ݂ ํ Other warnings : ꣒ grammatical errors.

⸺ ݂ ํ Author's Note: ꣒ So, again, I am back at it. Completely fictional.

I don’t look in mirrors if I can help it.

I glance—never stare. I avoid reflections like they’re landmines, each one threatening to detonate everything I’ve worked so hard to bury.

I pull my hoodie tighter around myself as I walk down the hall of my apartment building. Even though it’s warm out, I keep it on. I always keep it on. Oversized, black, long-sleeved—my version of armor. Fabric that hides the parts of me I hate the most.

Which is basically all of me.

My thighs touch when I walk. My arms jiggle when I reach for things. My stomach… don’t get me started. Every inch of me feels wrong, and no matter how many times people say things like "beauty comes in all sizes," I can still hear the laughter from the girls in middle school locker rooms. I can still feel their eyes on me. Judging. Mocking.

I learned early that boys only look at girls like me when it's a joke—or a dare. So, I don’t let them. I keep my head down, earphones in, and move like I’m invisible.

It’s safer that way.

I fake normal better than most. Smiles when I’m supposed to. Laughs at the right moments. I even let my mom believe I’m doing "so much better" lately.

She wouldn’t notice either way. She’s too busy.

She works fifteen hours a day and answers my texts with thumbs up emojis or, if I’m lucky, a "K." I get it. She’s trying to keep us afloat. But sometimes I think she works that much so she doesn’t have to come home.

Can’t say I blame her.

My dad is... well, he’s usually passed out almost every time I visit them. His breath smells like cheap whiskey and bad decisions. He tells me I’m beautiful sometimes—slurred, half-sincere—but only after his third drink. And the next morning he doesn’t remember saying anything at all.

I hate that I still want him to mean it.

No one knows how I eat in secret. How I wait until everyone’s asleep to tiptoe into the kitchen and stuff myself until I can barely breathe. Chips, cereal, cookies—whatever I can find. It’s not even about the food. It’s about silence. About filling something inside me that always feels empty.

Then comes the shame. The guilt. The promise to do better tomorrow.

Tomorrow never comes.

People think being fat is a choice. Like I woke up and decided to hate myself. Like I don’t already know what every calorie means. Like I haven’t stood in dressing rooms, numb and silent, while my mom said, “You just need a little more discipline.”

If she only knew.

But she doesn’t. No one does.

And that’s how I survive. By hiding the real me. By locking away every ugly thought and pretending I'm okay. It’s exhausting—but I’m good at it.

I finally curled up In my bed, wrapped in the same blanket I’ve had since high school—frayed at the edges, soft from too many washes. The TV was on, playing some show I’ve already watched three times over. Something comforting. Familiar. The kind where characters have perfect lives, perfect friends, and perfect bodies. The kind where no one ever breaks down crying because they can’t zip up their jeans.

I mindlessly shove popcorn into my mouth, even though I’m not really hungry. I just need something to do with my hands. That, and I don’t know how to exist in silence.

Outside, life moves. People laugh, date, go out for coffee and brunch and spin class. I watch it all through the filtered lens of social media, like I’m peeking through a window at a party I wasn’t invited to.

But the truth is... I don’t want to go.

Not really.

Being outside is exhausting. People are exhausting. The stares, the judgment—even the polite ones, the forced smiles, the awkward glances that say "I see you, but I don’t want to."

I’d rather sit here, in the stillness of my own space, where no one expects anything from me. Where I don’t have to suck in my stomach or pull down my shirt every time I stand up.

Unless she visits.

My best friend, Vicky. The only one who’s ever stuck around long enough to see all my ugly truths and not run for the hills. Unfortunately she lives two hours away. We talk every day tho—text, memes, random voice notes that trail off mid-sentence because we always know what the other means. But when she visits? That’s when I pretend, just for a night, that I’m someone else.

Someone better.

We’ll pour a glass of cheap wine and sit on the floor like we’re still seventeen. She’ll blast music we used to love and I’ll let my hair down, throw on a slightly-too-tight dress I usually hide in the back of my closet, and for a few hours, I’ll play the part.

I’ll laugh too loud. I’ll talk too fast. I’ll flirt with the mirror and call myself a bad bitch even though I don’t believe a word of it.

It’s not real, but it’s fun to pretend.

Sometimes we go out—to a bar or a lounge or some half-dead pub that plays throwbacks—and I’ll catch a man looking my way. And for a second, I’ll feel like maybe... maybe this time is different.

But it never is.

They smile. Then hesitate. Then give me mixed signals that make my head spin. One moment, it’s flirty texts and compliments. The next, it’s radio silence or a sudden ghosting like I imagined the whole thing.

I used to blame myself. Still do, if I’m being honest.

Maybe I’m not pretty enough. Maybe they didn’t like how my body looked up close. Maybe they thought I was fun—until they realized I came with baggage.

They say I’m “hard to read,” but they never bother to learn the language.

Now, I don’t expect anything. I don’t chase, and I definitely don’t hope. Hope is a cruel thing when you’ve been fed disappointment your whole life.

So I stay here.

Buried in the comfort of my bed. With my blanket and my snacks and my fake little world where I don’t have to feel like a mistake.

And honestly?

Sometimes, it feels like the only place I truly belong.

Some nights, the silence feels like it’s screaming.

Tonight is one of those nights.

The TV is still on, playing something meaningless. Just noise to drown out the thoughts. But it doesn’t work. It never really does. The thoughts always find their way back in—slipping through the cracks like cold air under a door.

I don’t even know when I started crying. My eyes just feel heavy, and my chest aches like I’ve been holding my breath for hours.

I sit there, knees hugged to my chest, tears rolling quietly, silently. Because that’s the only way I know how to break down—alone. Always alone.

I wish I could explain this feeling. This tightness. This numb, dull throb of sadness that doesn’t go away. It’s not just about my body, though that’s a part of it. It’s the loneliness. The kind that makes the world feel like it’s moving on without you. Like you’re stuck behind glass, watching everyone else live while you just... exist.

People talk about love like it’s this magical thing. Like it just happens. Eye contact across a room. Sparks. Butterflies. Hands brushing and souls colliding.

I’ve never had that. I don’t even know what it feels like to be touched by someone who wanted to stay. Who wanted me. Not some idea of me. Not some mask I wear to get through the day. The real me.

And God—don’t even get me started on sex.

Everyone acts like it’s supposed to be this beautiful thing. Passionate. Intimate. But for me? It feels terrifying. Not just because of my body—though that fear is always there, a weight pressing down on me—but because letting someone that close means showing them everything I try so hard to hide. The scars. The stretch marks. The parts of me I can’t fix.

The parts of me I’ve learned to keep locked up.

Sometimes I wonder if I’m even capable of being loved. Like maybe I was born with something missing. Or maybe I’m too much. Too broken. Too guarded. Too something.

Would anyone ever actually stay, if they saw all of me?

The depression makes it worse. It lies to me. Tells me I’m unworthy. That I’m hard to love. That I’m destined to always be someone’s maybe, someone’s almost. The girl who’s good for conversation but never good enough to hold.

And the worst part? Some days, I believe it.

I hate how much I crave affection, even though I’m terrified of it. I hate that I want someone to hold me and kiss my forehead and tell me I’m safe, but I wouldn’t know how to accept it if they did. My body would flinch, my mind would panic, and I’d probably ruin everything before it even began.

Because that’s what I do. I ruin things.

And then I cry about it in the dark, wondering what’s wrong with me.

I wrap the blanket tighter around me and bury my face in my arms. My tears come harder now, not quiet anymore. Ugly sobs that make my throat burn. I wish I could scream. I wish I could tear it all out of me—the pain, the shame, the fear.

I just want to be held. Not for how I look. Not for what I offer. But for who I am.

All of me.

Even the messy, haunted parts.

Even the parts I don’t know how to love myself.

But maybe that’s a lot to ask.

Maybe no one’s coming.

Maybe I’m all I’ll ever have.

-

Friday night.

The clock on my screen blinks 6:01 PM, and just like that, my shift ends.

Another day of smiling through gritted teeth, typing out canned responses to strangers who think “customer support” means “emotional punching bag.” My fingers are sore, my eyes ache, and I have exactly zero energy left to pretend to be a functioning adult.

I close my laptop and sigh, rolling my neck until it cracks. My apartment is dim, lit only by the fading orange glow of sunset bleeding through the blinds. I consider changing into pajamas and crawling under a blanket burrito-style. It’s what I usually do on Fridays. My little reward for surviving the week. Thank God I was a home office or else I’d be definitely drained at the office.

Then I hear it.

Knocking.

Sharp, insistent, like the sound of someone who knows you’re home.

I freeze. I’m not expecting anyone.

Another knock.

I drag myself to the door, hoodie still on, hair a mess, socks mismatched—classic me. I open it cautiously, peeking through the crack.

And there she is.

“Surprise, bitch,” Vicky grins, arms wide like she’s just delivered the winning lotto ticket.

Right behind her stands Trevor, tall and unbothered, holding a paper bag that smells suspiciously like garlic bread. He nods at me like we’ve just seen each other yesterday, even though it’s been months.

“What the hell—” I blink. “You guys didn’t tell me you were coming!”

“That’s what makes it a surprise,” Vicky smirks, pushing past me into the apartment like she owns the place. “Also, we know you’d say no if we warned you.”

She’s not wrong.

Trevor chuckles as he walks in behind her. “Hey, Y/N. We brought food. Don’t yell at us.”

I just shake my head, trying not to smile too hard. It’s impossible with these two.

Vicky and Trevor have been together for five years now. They met online—some obscure Reddit thread about mental health turned into DMs, which turned into phone calls, which turned into a weekend meetup that never really ended.

She’s a psychologist, whip-smart with a razor-sharp tongue and a heart of gold. He’s an IT guy, quiet and patient, the kind of man who listens more than he talks and somehow always knows when you need space... or a hug.

They’re that annoying kind of couple that actually works—the kind that finishes each other’s sentences and still giggles at inside jokes no one else gets. It’s weird seeing that kind of emotional intimacy up close. Beautiful, but also kind of brutal.

Because deep down, I want it.

That connection. That safety. That soft, quiet love that doesn’t disappear at the first sign of mess.

And it hurts—just a little—because a part of me still believes I’ll never have it.

“You’re staring again,” Vicky teases from the couch. “Are you mentally writing fanfiction about us?”

I roll my eyes, laughing despite the lump in my throat. “No, I’m just wondering how two socially awkward nerds made it work.”

Trevor winks. “Magic and memes.”

“And therapy,” Vicky adds, tossing a cushion at him. “Lots of therapy.”

We eat. We talk. We laugh—really laugh, the kind that makes your stomach hurt. For a moment, I forget about everything else. My body. My fears. My loneliness. It all fades under the glow of garlic knots and sarcastic banter.

Until Vicky suddenly looks at me with a mischievous glint in her eye.

“We’re going out,” she says.

I blink. “Out where?”

She stands, brushing crumbs off her jeans. “It’s a surprise.”

Trevor groans playfully. “God help us all.”

I hesitate. My instinct is to say no. I’m not dressed for “out.” I’m not mentally prepared. My anxiety starts bubbling up—but Vicky grabs my hand before I can retreat.

“Trust me,” she says, softer now. “You need this.”

I swallow hard, nod slowly, and let her pull me to my feet.

-

An hour later, we’re walking down a narrow alley lit by a single flickering bulb. The sound of bass and shouting grows louder with every step. The building looks like an abandoned warehouse, tagged up and half-broken—but there's a bouncer at the door and people going in like it's nothing.

“What is this?” I ask, narrowing my eyes.

“You’ll see,” Vicky smirks. “Just… keep an open mind.”

I glance at Trevor. He just shrugs and smiles, which tells me nothing.

We walk in—and the moment we do, the world shifts.

It’s hot. Loud. Electric. The air is thick with sweat, adrenaline, and tension. People crowd around a caged ring in the center of the room, shouting, cheering, drinks sloshing in their hands.

A fight is happening. An actual underground fight.

“What the hell, Vick?” I whisper, stunned.

The air hits me like a punch.

Heat. Sweat. Noise.

A crowd of bodies packed like sardines, all facing the makeshift cage in the center. The shouting is relentless, echoing off concrete walls, drowning out my thoughts. People are laughing, jeering, spilling drinks. Some are on tables. Some are barely dressed. Every part of it screams get out.

Vicky turns back and says over the noise, “Trust me. You need this. It’s good for your mental health.”

I shoot her a look. “You dragged me to a fight club for my mental health?”

She grins, unfazed. “You live in your head too much. This place? It pulls you out. It’s raw. Real. No filters. No fakeness. You just feel everything, whether you want to or not.”

I open my mouth to argue but the words stick. Because as chaotic as this place is, I can already feel the numbness cracking. Not in a good way—more like being ripped out of a too-warm blanket and thrown into a blizzard.

I tug my oversized hoodie tighter around myself, the sleeves swallowing my hands. My skin feels too exposed, like people are looking at me even when they aren’t. I’m not dressed for this. I’m not ready for this.

I did shower before we left, thank God. But even that small self-care win can’t calm the panic twisting in my gut now.

Overcrowded places make my skin crawl. I’ve never liked loud spaces, or too many people talking over each other, or being somewhere I can’t make a quick escape from.

It’s too much.

I scan the room, my eyes flicking from face to face. Most people here are loud, confident, half-drunk or fully fearless. Girls in tight dresses, guys in muscle shirts and tattoos, people laughing like this is a Friday night comedy show and not two men bleeding into the floor.

And then there’s me.

Tucked into the corner. Hiding. Heart racing. Wondering why the hell I agreed to this.

“Vick,” I say, leaning closer to her so she can hear me. “I don’t think I belong here.”

She turns, her face softer now. “You do. Just breathe.”

But how can I?

Every step into this place feels like walking deeper into someone else’s life. Someone who isn’t afraid. Someone who belongs in their skin. Not like me. I shrink without even realizing it—shoulders curling in, body trying to disappear into the folds of my hoodie. My safe zone.

I don’t want to be here.

I don’t want anyone to look at me.

But at the same time… some twisted part of me does.

Just once, I want to be the girl someone notices.

And I hate myself for it.

“Just give it a minute,” Trevor says gently, voice like a low anchor in the storm. “You might surprise yourself.”

But I don’t want to surprise myself. I want to be back home, curled up in silence, not vibrating from the bass of a place that smells like blood and beer.

Still—I don’t leave.

Because as much as I hate this, as much as I want to run, there’s something about this space that feels important. Like I’m on the edge of something.

Even if I don’t know what.

Suddenly, the crowd erupts louder than before—cheers, screams, a few scattered boos. Everyone turns their attention to the ring as a man climbs through the ropes.

A voice booms from the crackling speakers overhead, broken slightly by static but loud enough to cut through everything.

“In this corner, we got the reigning champ of the Southside pits… undefeated in seventeen fights, no tap-outs, no knockouts—only carnage. You know him. You fear him. Put your hands together for THIAAAGOOOOO!”

And that’s when I see him.

Thiago.

He steps fully into the ring—and my heart stalls.

He’s massive.

Tall—at least six foot five—built like a mountain, shoulders so broad they look like they could crush skulls. His skin is littered with scars, some healed into thick ridges, others fresher and angry red. A jagged one runs across his collarbone like a warning sign.

He’s bald, his head gleaming under the overhead lights, and his face—God, his face—it looks carved from stone. Cold, emotionless. A sharp jaw, a crooked nose that’s clearly been broken more than once, and dark eyes full of fury.

He’s not just a fighter. He looks like he’s made for war.

And he’s terrifying.

My stomach flips. My body stiffens. I take a half-step back without thinking.

“Holy fuck” I mutter, clutching my hoodie like it’s a shield. “This is insane. That guy looks like he eats souls for breakfast.”

Vicky doesn’t respond right away. She’s watching the ring with a curious glint in her eye. Trevor’s more stoic, but even he looks a little tense now.

Thiago circles the ring like a predator, chest rising slowly, eyes scanning the crowd like he’s daring someone to challenge him next. He radiates danger—pure, undiluted rage wrapped in muscle.

“He’s one of the best here,” Vicky finally says. “Or the worst, depending on how you look at it.”

“He looks like he could snap someone in half,” I whisper.

“He has,” Trevor says casually. Too casually.

My hands start to sweat.

Why are we here?

Why did Vicky think this was good for me?

My anxiety’s climbing fast. My heart won’t slow down, and my breath is catching in my throat. I don’t belong here. I don’t belong anywhere near people like him.

Just being in the same room as that kind of anger—raw, visible, unfiltered—it makes my skin crawl. It reminds me of my dad on a bad night. It reminds me of yelling behind closed doors. Of breaking things that don’t heal. Of fear you can’t explain to anyone.

I can’t tear my eyes away, though. Even as my body begs me to.

Because there’s something about him that feels like a mirror—sharpened, brutal, broken.

And maybe that’s the scariest part.

The referee’s voice cracks through the mic again, pulling the attention of the crowd back toward the entrance ramp. People around me start shifting with excitement—some chanting already, others leaning forward, trying to get a better view.

“And in this corner…” the announcer growls with theatrical flair, “…the one you’ve been waiting for. The wildcard. The Ghost of the East Ring. He’s fast, he’s vicious, and he doesn’t say much—but when he moves, you listen. Give it up for—JUNGKOOK!”

The lights dim just slightly. Smoke—real or fake, I can’t tell—floods in at the entrance. Then he steps out.

And everything slows.

He’s smaller than Thiago, yeah. Not small, just… more compact. But somehow his presence fills the room in a different way. Controlled chaos. Stillness before a storm. His body is lean but powerful—tattooed arms flexing under the flickering warehouse lights as he casually rolls one shoulder, then the other.

A black wet mullet hangs across his forehead and brushes against the nape of his neck, damp with sweat or maybe water poured over him before walking out. His dark eyes flick across the crowd—slow, methodical—like he’s searching for something or someone specific.

When his gaze sweeps past me, I freeze.

He doesn’t pause. Doesn’t even notice me. But for a second, I feel… seen.

Then it’s gone.

He climbs into the ring like he’s done this a thousand times. Calm. Efficient. No flashy entrances or chest-beating bravado. Just quiet readiness.

Unlike Thiago—who still paces like a caged beast—Jungkook stands still in his corner, bouncing lightly on his feet, head down, breathing slow. Controlled. Poised.

A storm in waiting.

“What’s his deal?” I mutter, frowning as I watch him from under my hood.

Vicky grins. “That’s Jungkook. He doesn’t talk much, but he moves like poetry.”

Trevor nods. “He’s fast. Thiago hates him.”

“Why?”

“He can’t catch him,” Trevor says with a half-smile. “And when he tries, he gets hit. Hard.”

The bell hasn’t rung yet, but the energy in the room is shifting. The crowd is buzzing, already leaning forward in anticipation. Two men. Two energies. One unhinged rage, the other ice-cold focus.

And I’m standing there in the shadows, heart pounding, watching it unfold like it’s all some dream I don’t belong in.

But I can’t look away from Jungkook.

There’s something about him—quiet, deadly, beautiful in a way that shouldn’t belong in a place like this. Like he’s made of sharp edges and unspoken things.

And I have no idea why he’s making my chest feel like this.

The moment the bell rings, everything changes.

Jungkook and Thiago explode into motion at the same time, their bodies colliding with a sickening thud as the crowd roars around us. The sound is deafening, a mass of screaming voices and wild excitement. I can’t take my eyes off them. The chaos, the violence, the raw power—it feels like it’s coming at me in waves.

Thiago lunges first, furious and relentless. His fists are like battering rams, crashing into Jungkook’s body, and the crowd is losing it, egging Thiago on. The sound of flesh hitting flesh is sickening, and I feel a rush of unease—nausea swirling in my stomach.

But then, Jungkook moves.

It’s so fast, so fluid, that I barely register what happens until Thiago’s momentum is thrown off. Jungkook ducks under his next punch, a move so smooth it’s like watching someone glide through water. He weaves out of the way, and then, like a snake striking, his fist connects with Thiago’s jaw with a crack that echoes through the room.

Thiago stumbles back, and the crowd goes wild. Thiago roars in frustration, lunging again—but this time, Jungkook’s ready. His footwork is impeccable, always staying just out of reach, and every time Thiago throws a punch, Jungkook dodges it like he’s reading Thiago’s mind.

And then, in an instant—Jungkook moves in, faster than I can process. He shifts, gets in close, and with one sharp, devastating blow to Thiago’s midsection, he drives his opponent to the mat. The crowd gasps.

Thiago struggles to get back up, but it’s no use. Jungkook moves in again, his body like a machine, precision in every movement. With a calculated swing, Jungkook lands another hit—this one to Thiago’s head.

Thiago falls.

The crowd goes wild, a tidal wave of cheers and screams as Thiago is knocked out cold. Jungkook stands over him, chest heaving, sweat dripping down his face. His nose is bloodied, but his eyes are laser-focused, scanning the crowd as he stands tall, shoulders heaving, sweat glistening across his skin. He’s breathless, but there’s no sign of slowing down.

The referee steps in, holding up Jungkook’s arm.

“Winner!” he shouts into the microphone, his voice drowned out by the roar of the crowd. “Jungkook!”

My breath catches in my throat as I watch Jungkook stand there, still and proud, despite the blood smeared across his face. He doesn’t celebrate like Thiago would have—no shout of triumph, no cocky grin. He just stands there, like this is exactly where he was meant to be.

I’m still frozen in place when the crowd starts to quiet down, and my eyes move to Vicky.

“How do you know these two?” I ask, still watching Jungkook as he wipes the blood from his nose, catching his breath. “You’ve been here before, right?”

Vicky glances at me, her eyes flashing with something I can’t quite place. “In my four years of studying psychology here? Yeah. I’ve been to this place three times. Every time, I’ve seen Jungkook win.”

My brow furrows. “Three times?”

Vicky shrugs, leaning in to make herself heard over the fading buzz of the crowd. “Jungkook doesn’t lose. Ever. And not just here, either. He’s been in the underground circuit for a while now. He doesn’t talk much, but the guy’s a machine. Everyone here knows that.”

I’m still staring at Jungkook. The blood on his face doesn’t make him look weak—it makes him look… stronger. Like the fight is a part of him, something embedded in his bones. The way he carries himself—the way he moves—it’s like there’s nothing in the world that could touch him.

He’s not just a fighter. He’s something else.

I try to push the feeling down, the one stirring in my chest, but it’s there. Something about him pulls at me.

“He’s scary,” I whisper, though the words don’t feel like they fit the way I’m feeling. It’s more than fear. It’s something like… awe. And maybe a little envy.

“Scary?” Vicky laughs. “Nah. He’s a fighter. And trust me, if you ever find yourself in his corner, you’ll know exactly why people respect him.”

I don’t answer. My mind is too wrapped up in the image of him standing in the ring—barely breathing, bloodied, but still unshaken.

I’m about to turn away and find a quiet corner to collect my thoughts when a sharp pang hits my stomach.

I can’t ignore it.

“Vicky…” I call out, trying to keep my voice steady. “Where’s the bathroom?”

Vicky doesn’t even look at me, still watching the ring as the crowd starts to thin. She gestures to the far side of the room, near the back exit. “Down that hall, last door on the left.”

I nod quickly and make my way through the maze of bodies and noise, feeling like I’m moving through a fog. I don’t care what’s going on around me—I just need to get some space, somewhere I can breathe and not feel so… exposed.

The hallway is dim, the walls dirty and covered in old graffiti. I find the door easily enough. But when I push it open, my stomach drops.

There’s no sign for male or female. Just a simple bathroom with no distinction.

Great.

I freeze for a moment, standing in the doorway. I can hear people in the bathroom—voices. Laughter. But I’m not sure if they’re men or women, and the last thing I want is to stumble into a situation where I’m forced to confront anything uncomfortable. I can feel my pulse thudding in my ears.

There’s a stall at the far end, empty.

Without thinking twice, I rush in, lock the door behind me, and press my back to the cool metal of the stall. The air feels thick again, like it’s closing in around me, and I force myself to take slow, steady breaths, in and out.

But it’s not enough.

The panic is rising—fast. My hands start to shake, my chest tightens. I try to block it out, but the air feels suffocating, too thick, too hot. I can hear the muffled sound of footsteps and the low murmur of voices from the other side of the bathroom.

Just breathe. It’s fine. You’re fine.

But I’m not.

The panic is already clawing at my throat when the door to the bathroom swings open. Two women walk in, their voices high-pitched and giggly. I bite my lip, forcing myself to stay as still as possible, praying they won’t notice me.

“Oh my God, did you see Jungkook out there?” One of them says, her voice dripping with excitement.

“Yesss!” the other responds, laughing. “I was like, wow—how is he so hot? Like, he’s got that whole dangerous vibe, you know?”

“Totally,” the first one giggles again. “I would literally do anything to be with him. I don’t care if he’s a fighter. He can take me down anytime.”

My stomach twists. I close my eyes, feeling the heat rush to my face. This is exactly what I hate. This feeling of being on the outside, the feeling of not being the one they’re talking about. Not being the one that someone notices.

“Can you imagine how good he must be in bed? I bet he’s rough,” the second woman whispers with a smirk. “Like, you know, he’s got that energy. He could probably have any girl he wants. Hell, he’s probably had every girl he’s ever looked at.”

My heart stops. My hands are trembling against the cold stall door, but I can’t bring myself to leave. I can’t seem to move. The words echo in my ears, over and over, and I want to scream.

Why does this bother me so much? Why does this hurt?

I can’t understand it.

I want to run out of here. I want to disappear. I want to get away from the laughing, the whispered thoughts about Jungkook, about how he’s someone they can have—someone they want.

For a second, I wonder if I’ll ever be wanted like that. If anyone will ever look at me the way these girls are looking at Jungkook.

Stop.

I breathe in deeply, trying to steady myself again. My fingers are cold and clammy as I grasp the edge of the toilet paper dispenser. The walls of the stall feel like they’re closing in on me, but I force myself to stay still. I have to. If I move, it’ll make everything worse.

The last thing I need is for them to hear my panic, my heavy breathing, my brokenness.

The girls continue talking, oblivious to me in my corner.

“God, I’m so jealous,” the first girl sighs, “but I bet I’d die if he even looked at me.”

“You think he’d go for a girl like us?” the second one snickers. “Doubt it. He’s probably all about the hot, fit girls. You know the type.”

The conversation continues as if I’m not even here, and I can feel the sting of their words, even though I try to push them down.

He doesn’t want girls like us.

The thought slips out before I can stop it.

I squeeze my eyes shut, but it doesn’t make the hurt go away.

I wait for what feels like forever, the girls’ laughter and giggling fading as they finally leave the bathroom. Their footsteps echo down the hallway, their voices growing softer with each step. The silence that follows feels too loud, too heavy.

I take a few more slow breaths, trying to steady myself. The panic is ebbing, though the tightness in my chest lingers. You’re okay. It’s over. Just get out of here.

I wipe my clammy hands on the sides of my jeans and push open the stall door. My legs feel weak, unsteady, as I step out into the dim hallway, my heart still hammering in my chest.

Just get to the door.

I make my way toward the exit, trying to ignore the lingering heaviness in my chest. But as I round the corner, I’m blindsided by a sharp collision.

“Oof!” The impact knocks the breath from my lungs. I stumble back, my phone slipping from my hand and hitting the floor with a hard thud.

I immediately bend down, scrambling to pick it up. My face flushes with embarrassment, my hands shaking as I retrieve the phone, fingers fumbling for a moment as I focus too much on my own awkwardness.

“I’m so sorry,” I stammer, voice barely above a whisper as I stand up, still feeling the warmth of my cheeks. My eyes instinctively dart to the floor, avoiding any kind of eye contact. The last thing I need is for someone to see how flustered I am. Especially not after all those words in the bathroom, all those thoughts swimming in my mind.

Then I hear a low chuckle.

I freeze. My stomach lurches, the breath in my lungs catches.

No way.

I look up—and there he is.

Jungkook.

He’s standing in front of me, his presence almost overwhelming. He’s no longer in the fighting gear, but even in casual clothes, he still carries that intimidating aura. His shirt is loose, sleeves rolled up to show off his tattooed arms, and his black jeans sit low on his hips. His black mullet hangs a little messy, slightly wet from sweat or maybe water.

But what catches my attention first—what makes my stomach twist—is his face.

Bruises. Dark, angry purple bruises marking his cheekbone, a cut across his lip, and his nose—still swollen and bleeding slightly. The aftermath of the fight. But even with all that, there’s something so… captivating about him. Like a storm you can’t look away from.

I feel my heart pounding harder, my palms slick. Every insecurity I’ve ever had seems to slam into my chest all at once. Oh my God. I must look like a mess. No makeup, a baggy hoodie, messy hair. He’s so… perfectly put together—even with the bruises.

I open my mouth to say something, anything, but nothing comes out. I stand there, completely frozen, completely aware of how ridiculous I must look. I hate how much I want to hide.

“Are you okay?” Jungkook asks, his voice surprisingly soft considering the way he fights. His eyes—dark and unreadable—scan me for a second, waiting for a response. He tilts his head, an eyebrow quirking slightly as if waiting for me to speak.

For a moment, I can’t find my voice.

What the hell am I supposed to say to him?

“I—uh—yeah, I’m fine,” I stammer, cringing at how small my voice sounds. “Sorry about, um, bumping into you. I wasn’t looking where I was going…”

He chuckles again, this time a little quieter, almost like he’s amused by my awkwardness. “No problem.” His gaze shifts down to my phone in my hand, and there’s a flicker of something in his eyes, like a silent understanding. “You should probably hold onto that better. Might break it next time.”

I nod quickly, biting my lip. “Yeah. I’ll, uh, be more careful.”

The silence stretches between us, and I can’t stop myself from feeling completely out of place. His mere presence—his proximity—feels like a weight on my chest. I want to say something more, something that doesn’t make me sound like an idiot, but the words are stuck in my throat.

What is he even doing here? My brain races. Why is he talking to me?

The bruises on his face, the way he carries himself, the intensity he exudes—everything about him screams confidence, while I can barely keep myself together.

“Hey,” he says again, his voice quieter this time, almost like he’s trying to make sure I’m not completely shut down. “You’re alright. You don’t have to apologize.”

I look up, meeting his eyes for the first time since I bumped into him, and for a split second, I forget how to breathe. His gaze is steady, almost piercing, and there’s something strangely gentle in the way he looks at me—like he’s trying to figure me out.

“I’m sorry,” I murmur again, my voice soft, barely audible. “I… didn’t mean to cause any trouble.”

He shakes his head slightly, a small, amused smirk curling on his lips. “No trouble. But if you’re gonna keep bumping into me, I might start thinking you’re doing it on purpose.”

My face burns. I can’t believe this is happening. He’s standing right in front of me, and I’m acting like I’ve never spoken to a guy in my life. I’m sure I look like a mess.

I look down again, hoping he won’t notice how flustered I am. But when I glance back up, I catch a glimmer of something in his eyes—a mix of curiosity and something else I can’t place.

“Well, I’ll make sure to avoid you next time,” I mumble, trying to force a smile, but it feels so awkward.

Jungkook doesn’t say anything right away, but his gaze softens just a fraction. “Don’t worry about it,” he replies simply, his voice steady, like he’s seen this kind of thing a thousand times.

And then, with a slight nod, he turns and walks past me, heading back toward the crowd, leaving me standing there in the dim hallway, my heart racing, my breath still shaky.

Did that really just happen?

Monday

The morning light hits different when you’ve had a whole weekend to forget the world. I wake up to the sharp trill of my alarm and the sun creeping through the blinds like it’s personally offended I’m still in bed.

Vicky and Trevor left late last night, their hugs lingering longer than usual. We spent the rest of the weekend curled up on my couch, talking about everything—really talking. The kind of conversations that make you feel both lighter and heavier at the same time. The ones that peel you open in a way that’s terrifying but necessary.

Vicky told me she’s worried about how I retreat when I’m hurting. Trevor said he thinks I deserve to stop living like I’m waiting for something to break. I didn’t say much. Just nodded a lot. Smiled at the right parts. I don’t know how to explain that sometimes, talking about the darkness makes it feel more real.

But it felt good.

Safe.

And now Monday feels like a slap.

I throw on my usual work-from-home uniform—baggy hoodie, leggings, messy bun—and log in just before my boss can ping me. My headset’s tangled, my coffee’s lukewarm, and the emails are already giving me hives.

By 10 a.m., I’ve mentally clocked out.

I’m rereading the same sentence for the third time when Katherine messages me.

Katherine (10:03 AM):

Hey! Got a sec to hop on a quick call?

Katherine is the kind of person who always has her camera on during Zoom meetings. Perfect hair. Perfect lighting. She once told me she drinks celery juice every morning. I pretend to like her but mostly because I’m afraid she’ll sense my existential dread through the screen and report me to HR.

I reply with a thumbs-up emoji and brace myself.

She starts with small talk—weather, client updates, a weird squirrel that got into her balcony. And then she says it.

“So, this is random,” she begins, her tone suddenly shifting. “But... you were at The Pit this weekend, right?”

I blink. “How do you know about that?”

She smiles like she’s trying to be casual. “One of my best friends is in that crowd. I used to go with her sometimes. Total chaos. Honestly, I thought you were more... I don’t know, library-core?”

I laugh awkwardly. “It was a surprise outing.”

“Ah. That explains it.” She leans closer to the camera like she’s about to deliver state secrets. “So listen… I’m telling you this as a friend, okay? Don’t get too caught up in Jungkook.”

My stomach flips.

I try to keep my expression neutral. “I’m not… I don’t even know him.”

“Yeah, well,” she says, “just in case. I’ve known him for a while. He runs with a rough crowd. Really rough. He’s not some tortured artist or romantic bad boy. He’s a fighter. Like, literally and metaphorically. The guy doesn’t let people close. And if he does? It never ends well.”

I swallow. “Okay…”

She shrugs, taking a sip from her green smoothie. “He’s rich, by the way. Like, crazy rich. Family money. Old money. The kind that hides skeletons behind designer walls. He’s rebelling against it, or whatever. But still—trust me, girls like us?” Her voice softens, almost sympathetically. “We don’t survive guys like him.”

I stare at the screen.

Katherine offers a smile like she’s just done me a favor. “Anyway. Just thought you should know. Back to work!”

The call ends.

And I sit there, headphones still on, heart pounding, trying to make sense of everything she just said.

Girls like us.

We don’t survive guys like him.

I don’t know whether to laugh or cry.

Because I already knew that.

But hearing it out loud?

It stings in a way I wasn’t ready for.

The call ends.

And it’s like the silence in my apartment changes shape—heavier, sharper, pressing in from all sides.

I stare at my screen, blinking at the spreadsheet I was supposed to be editing, but all I can see is his face again. Jungkook’s bruised jaw. His quiet stare. The way his voice was soft when he asked if I was okay.

I thought it meant something.

God, I’m so stupid.

Why did I even let myself feel anything at all? One second of attention from someone like him and I’m already spinning stories in my head. Already hoping. Already aching.

But he’s not a story.

He’s not the exception.

He’s a walking warning sign with pretty tattoos and a reputation I should’ve seen coming a mile away.

And me?

I’m the girl who doesn’t even look in mirrors.

The girl who flinches when someone raises their voice.

The girl who hides from kindness because it always turns into disappointment.

What the hell was I thinking?

I push my laptop away and curl in on myself, wrapping my hoodie tighter around my body like it might hold all the unraveling parts together.

It’s pathetic, how easily I fall back into this. This sadness. This hole. Like I never even tried to climb out.

My chest feels tight again. Like there’s not enough air in the room, not enough silence in the world to quiet the noise in my head. Katherine’s voice keeps looping:

“Girls like us… we don’t survive guys like him.”

She’s right.

Not just because he’s dangerous—but because I’m already drowning.

I don’t need someone like him lighting a fire next to the flood.

I’m barely surviving myself.

I can’t afford to let someone else in. Especially someone who could burn me just by standing too close. I’ve done that before—opened the door a crack and let someone walk in like they had a right to rearrange the furniture in my soul.

And when they left, they took everything I had with them.

I won’t survive that again.

I don’t care how soft his voice was. I don’t care how different he seemed. I don’t care about the way his eyes looked like they could hold secrets.

I’m not his mystery to solve.

I’m not some redemption arc.

I’m tired.

I just want to be left alone.

So I grab my phone, fingers trembling, and type out a message to Vicky.

me (11:21 AM):

hey. Can we talk later?

She replies almost instantly.

Vicky (11:22 AM):

of course. you okay?

me:

not really.

Vicky:

I’m here. whatever you need.

I drop the phone onto the bed and let myself cry.

Not the quiet, hidden kind this time—but the ugly sobs. The ones that shake my whole body. The ones that feel like mourning.

Because that’s what this is.

I’m mourning the version of me who thought, even for a second, that maybe someone like Jungkook could want someone like me.

But that girl doesn’t get to stay.

She was too hopeful.

Too naive.

And hope? It’s just another way to hurt yourself when you know better.

-

The apartment walls feel like they’re closing in again.

My chest is still heavy from crying, my eyes swollen and tired, but I haven’t eaten anything since yesterday. My stomach growls like it’s mocking me, like even it is tired of my emotions.

I don’t want to go outside. I really, really don’t.

But I don’t have the energy to argue with myself anymore.

So I throw on the armor—the same oversized black hoodie I’ve worn three days in a row, the one that swallows me whole. Baggy sweatpants that drag at the hem, sleeves covering my hands. Greasy hair scraped into a low, half-hearted bun. No makeup. Glasses on. Invisible mode activated.

If anyone looks at me, they’ll see nothing worth seeing.

Which is exactly the point.

The convenience store is just down the block. Two turns and I’m there. I don’t make eye contact with anyone. I keep my head low, shoulders hunched, heart pounding in my ears for no reason at all.

I grab a pre-made sandwich, a pack of chips, something sweet. Something to feel something. The cashier doesn’t say much. I pay and leave, crinkling plastic bag in one hand, the weight of my exhaustion in the other.

And then—

I hear it.

A low, throaty vrrrrmmmm.

A motorcycle.

It pulls up to the curb just as I step outside. Black. Shiny. Sleek. Yamaha. The kind of bike that looks fast even when it’s parked.

The rider is dressed in all black—black jeans, black hoodie, black gloves, black helmet. The mirrored visor reflects the late afternoon haze, faceless and quiet.

But somehow—somehow—he looks straight at me.

Not at the store. Not at the sidewalk.

At me.

I freeze.

My breath catches in my throat. My pulse spikes. No one sees me—no one is supposed to see me. Especially not like this. Especially not him.

Because I know.

I know it’s him.

Even before he moves, before he speaks—my bones recognize the tension, the quiet storm under the surface. My body flinches like it’s muscle memory.

I take a shaky step back. Then another. My fingers curl tighter around the plastic bag like it’ll protect me. I turn, heart in my throat, ready to bolt in the opposite direction.

But then—

“Hey!”

Just one word.

But it’s enough.

The voice is familiar—low, rough around the edges, quiet in that way that still demands attention. Not yelling. Not sharp. Just… deliberate.

And it comes from behind me.

I freeze mid-step.

My grip tightens on the bag, but I don’t turn around. My whole body tenses like I’m waiting for the ground to open and swallow me whole.

Please no. Please let me be wrong.

But then—

“You dropped this.”

I glance down. My receipt flutters on the pavement behind me.

I should keep walking. I want to keep walking.

But something in that voice… that calm, steady voice—it wraps around my ribs like wire and holds me still.

I turn, just a little.

And there he is.

Helmet off now. Tousled black hair clinging to his forehead, damp with sweat or wind. Dark eyes, unreadable. That same bruised jaw from the fight. That same calm chaos in the way he stands, like he’s always ready to run or punch something—but right now, he’s doing neither.

He holds out the receipt between two fingers, casual like he’s done nothing unusual.

I don’t take it.

I can’t move.

I just stare at him, half-hidden behind the oversized hoodie and fogged-up glasses, knowing full well there’s nothing about me worth noticing—but he still is.

His eyes linger for a second.

Not in a gross way.

Just… curious.

Like he’s trying to place me.

“You are familiar, didn’t we spoke this weekend after my fight?” he says, voice soft but certain.

I don’t answer.

I can’t.

He waits a second longer, like he’s giving me a chance to say something—to confirm or deny or at least react—but I just stand there, frozen in oversized fabric and fear.

“Didn’t mean to scare you,” he says after a moment, voice even lower now. Almost gentle. “You okay?”

Something in me cracks.

I shake my head—not to answer the question, but to shake off the moment. The whole thing. Him. This.

I take a shaky step back, then another, until I turn away again. This time, I do walk.

Fast.

He doesn’t follow.

But I can still feel his eyes on me.

And it hurts in a way I wasn’t ready for.

By the time I get back to my apartment, I’m sweating under my hoodie even though it’s barely 65 degrees out. My legs feel like they’re made of wet sand. I shut the door behind me, double lock it, and lean against it like maybe it’ll hold me up better than my spine currently can.

What the actual fuck just happened?

I drop the plastic bag on the kitchen counter and stare at it like it might answer me.

How the hell did he end up here?

What are the odds? No—seriously. Statistically. What are the goddamn odds that Jungkook, bruised, violent, beautiful Jungkook, the guy from the underground fight club with a face like a problem I’d never solve—what are the odds that he parks his sleek-ass murder-cycle right in front of my stupid corner store?

Does he live around here?

Does he live on my street?

Fucking hell.

My head spins. I kick off my shoes and shuffle toward my room like a zombie with trust issues. I don’t even bother with lunch. I just face-plant onto my bed and let out a strangled scream into my pillow.

Muffled, of course. Don’t want the neighbors to call someone.

My brain is already galloping down all the wrong roads.

What if he does live nearby? What if I see him again? What if he recognizes me next time, not just as “the girl from the fight” or “the hoodie gremlin who nearly dropped her sandwich,” but me—the real, fragile, overthinking version who wears pain like perfume and flinches when people care?

God, what if he saw through me already?

I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling.

And just like that, it begins.

The daydream.

The soft edges blur and shift, my breathing slows, and the version of reality I can actually tolerate starts to take shape.

In this one, I’m still me—but I’m her, too.

The cooler version. The one who didn’t flinch. Who took the receipt with a small smirk, thanked him, maybe even made a joke that made his bruised mouth curve into a smile.

Maybe he would’ve asked my name.

Maybe I would’ve told him.

Maybe we would’ve sat on the curb, talking about the way silence sometimes feels safer than words. Maybe he would’ve looked at me like I wasn’t invisible. Like I wasn’t too much or not enough or anything in between.

In this version, I’m magnetic. Mysterious. Someone he wants to chase.

Not someone who runs.

Not someone who hides.

But the fantasy falters the second my phone buzzes.

A calendar notification.

Break over. Back to work.

I blink, and the ceiling collapses.

The daydream dissolves like mist under a spotlight.

And I’m back here again.

Greasy hair. Unanswered emails. Sandwich still untouched on the counter.

I sit up with a groan and reach for my laptop, the screen lighting up with the cruel reminder that no matter how hard I try to disappear, the world still expects me to perform.

Because I don’t get to be the girl in the fantasy.

I just get to pretend I'm okay for eight more hours.

-

It’s been three days.

Three long, weirdly quiet days since that day outside the convenience store.

He didn’t follow me.

He didn’t try to talk to me again.

But I haven’t stopped thinking about it.

Or him.

Or the way his voice sounded when he said “hey” like it wasn’t a loaded word, like it didn’t feel like it cracked something open in my chest.

But today, I need air.

I’ve answered all my emails. Sat through two Zoom meetings where I didn’t say a word. Ate half a protein bar and convinced myself that counted as lunch. The weather’s decent. Grey sky, soft breeze. Not hot, not cold. The kind of weather that makes you feel invisible in a good way.

So I shower. Real clothes aren’t an option—my body still feels like a burden—but I pull on my cleanest hoodie and loose cargo pants. I throw on some concealer, smudge some eyeliner. Just enough to look… functional. Human-adjacent. Lip balm, not lipstick.

My comfort zone.

I pop a Red Bull from the fridge, grab my lighter and smokes, and head out.

The walk to the park is quiet. Familiar. It’s only a few blocks away—lined with sad little trees, apartment windows with peeling paint, and the occasional dog-walker tugging along a leash like it’s a lifeline.

By the time I get there, I’m already feeling a little lighter.

I head straight to the bench.

My bench.

The one facing the outdoor fitness area. It’s a concrete platform with metal bars and makeshift equipment—mostly used by shirtless guys trying to impress no one in particular. Usually, I avoid the place when it’s busy. But I’ve learned the timing.

Late afternoons on weekdays? It’s usually empty.

Quiet enough to breathe.

I sit down, crack the can open with a hiss, and take a long sip. The carbonation burns down my throat, sharp and sweet. I pull a cigarette from my sleeve and light it, the flame catching with a soft flick. First drag, and the world slows down.

My mind goes quiet.

For once.

I exhale smoke into the open air, let it drift above me, unfurling like a sigh I didn’t know I was holding.

And then—I see him.

At first, I don’t realize it’s him.

I just register movement.

Someone using the pull-up bar.

Shirtless. Muscled. Moving with a kind of effortlessness that makes my stomach flip.

I glance up, casual.

And freeze.

It’s him.

Jungkook.

His back is to me, muscles flexing as he pulls himself up again and again, like he’s chasing something only he can see. The tattoos on his arms are vivid under the dull light, ink curling down to his wrist in sharp, beautiful lines.

He drops down from the bar, hands on his hips, chest heaving with each breath.

He’s glowing with sweat.

And for a second—I forget how to exist.

He doesn’t see me.

Not yet.

I duck my head fast, pulling my hoodie slightly forward like it’s a curtain I can hide behind. I take another drag of my cigarette, hoping the smoke masks the sudden panic rising in my throat.

Why is he here?

Again?

Does he live around here? Was Katherine right?

Or is this just some twisted coincidence?

He wipes his face with the edge of his tank top, and I catch a glimpse of more tattoos on his ribs—black ink over golden skin—and I have to look away. My heart’s beating like I’ve done a line of adrenaline instead of just caffeine and smoke.

I shouldn't be looking.

He’s not for me.

He’s a storm in a human body. A fighter. A blur of danger and sharp edges.

And I’m just… this.

This hoodie.

This body.

This invisible mess on a park bench, pretending the world isn’t too much.

But even as I look away—

I can feel it.

That shift.

That pull.

And when I glance back, just once, just quick—

His eyes are on me.

Right on me.

Unmistakable.

Direct.

Not in a flirty, playful, hey-girl way.

No.

It’s deeper than that.

Like he remembers me.

Like he sees something he doesn’t quite understand.

I look away so fast I almost drop my Red Bull.

My fingers are shaking again.

What the fuck is happening?

Why does it feel like he’s always three steps ahead of where I want him to be?

[arlos-warm-drpepper]

When I think Derek Hale I think insecurity. Unstable. Unhinged. Derek Hale.

I don’t think “got his shit together” at all!! So in this Ted talk I will explain why I prefer when authors write him as the insecure one, and Stiles as the secure one.

Derek Hale was 19. Truly he was a kid in charge of a bunch of slightly younger kids. A kid who hadn’t had any responsible adult in his life since he was 15 (16?) y/o. I do not know how you can look at this kid and think “oh yeah he’s got his shit together”

The guy who went around biting teenagers the second he became an alpha with NO hesitation. As if that was a totally rational and responsible decision to make. The guy who fell for any woman who gave him the slightest attention. Even if they were evilness.

Because ultimately Derek just wanted someone. A pack. A family. Whether that was in the form of a bunch of teenage werewolves (teen wolfs full name hurhur) or an evil girlfriend. He just needed SOMEONE. Because he was lonely. He was lonely and insecure and probably felt like everything he touched went wrong. Because it did!!! And he probably hated himself for that. Probably blamed himself for everything. For Paige (even though that was peters fault), for Kate (Kates fault. Grown ass woman), for Boyd and Erica (NOT DEREKS FAULT!!!), for everything. Hell, probably even for Laura. And it doesn’t help that Scott and Stiles ALSO blamed him for Laura at first.

Stiles on the other hand, he was pretty secure. Sure, at first he was a little insecure when Scott had just became a werewolf and he felt a little less-than. But he got over that quickly. Over it enough that he rejected Peters offer for the bite. He was hard headed, stubborn, and smart. And he knew he was smart. He knew what he had, his skills. He trusted his instincts ten times out’ve ten. He was secure with himself. He knew when something was off, and he was persistent in trying to get everyone else to listen to him. Because if everyone just listened to him, they would be fine. Because ten times out’ve ten, he was RIGHT!!! And he knew it!!! And he was secure enough with himself to go after the most popular girl in school, despite her having a boyfriend (which I NEVER even questioned the morals of, because he didn’t. Because he seemed so sure in that decision. Because he was SECURE in himself!!!)

Derek Hale might have been aware that he was beautiful on the outside, but that doesn’t mean he was secure within himself. That man is filled to the brim with guilt. Guilt over things that aren’t even his fault. There’s no way he doesn’t absolutely hate himself.

Stiles might have guilt over void, but he knows that wasn’t him. That he tried everything to stop void. He knows he isn’t a killer, and that everything he’s done has been for the greater good. He is secure in every decision he makes. And I know that because that’s practically what he told Scott. Some people are human, some people have to get their hands a little dirty sometimes. He knows that. He is secure in that thought process.

Stiles Stilinski is secure, hard headed, persistent. Derek Hale is insecure, unstable, and uncertain. These are facts. So why are you all writing it the opposite???? I don’t want it the opposite. I want Derek to be pathetic and wet. I want Stiles to be fucking confident, assured, SOLID. Because that’s what Derek needs. He needs someone solid, because he hasn’t had that since he was 15. He deserves that.

[hanniescookie]

the one - ljh

pairing - lee jihoon x f!reader

genre/warnings - est. relationship, petnames, angst, slight fluff, skinship, anxiety, comfort,

summary - all your past relationships have left you with nothing but an unending fear of things ending too soon. but lee jihoon is different.

wc - 0.9K

author's note - to the anon that requested this, thank you so much for doing so, and i hope this is worth it 🤍

Is it my fault again?

The question rings in your head over and over again, involuntarily keeping you from a much needed slumber. You stare at the empty spot on the bed next to you, hand reaching out to caress the cold place.

It has been nearly a week since you haven't been able to properly see your boyfriend. You weren't able to meet him because he has been stuck in the studio for many days. When you did go to visit him there on one occasion, you were disappointed to see him caught up with work to the point that he couldn't even greet you fully before he had to go. You know he's busy with work. You can't blame him for not being able to make time for you because you understand.

Yet, there is a lingering stress in your mind that threatens to eat you up. It has only been six months since you've started dating him — two months more than what your past relationships averagely ever lasted.

You'd always been worried about this growing thing between you both, and it always made you insecure. Afraid. Of loosing him, of losing everything you built just like always.

Your hand reaches out to unlock your phone again to check for any messages but there are none. Jihoon hasn't responded to your texts, nor has he contacted you himself.

You know what this means. You've been here before. You're aware of how this ends.

Your brain goes into an overdrive, and you suddenly feel like choking on nothing. There's a growing lump in your throat that begins to resist your air supply, and you sit up in restlessness, tears streaming down your face before you know it.

You cannot do this. You cannot loose Jihoon. Not him. Has he really given up on you?

“Y/N?”

You hear him before you see him. Jihoon is walking inside the bedroom, his eyebrows furrowed as he tries to make sense of your state. You regain your senses a little at his sight, but it also makes you more breathless.

“Babe, are you okay?” His concern-filled voice reaches your ears after his hands cup your face. He scans your whole face, thumb involuntarily wiping at the wetness on your cheeks.

You try to speak, but your voice cracks, and all that comes out is a sob. Jihoon's expression softens, and he pulls you into a tight hug, holding you close as you cry.

You can tell he's trying not to panic, and you know he's sick worried.

"It's alright," he whispers into your ear. "I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

His words make you tighten yourself in his arms. Even when you haven't said a word, he knows just what to say to make you feel better.

He gently guides you to lie back down, and he joins you on the bed, wrapping his arms around you. He holds you in silence for a while, letting you cry it out.

When you finally calm down, he speaks up, his voice low yet firm. "I'm sorry I haven't been able to spend time with you lately. I know it's been tough. But it's not because I don't want to be with you. It's just...work has been crazy."

You sniffle, looking up at him "I know. I'm sorry. I just...I feel like I'm losing you."

Jihoon's grip on you tightens, and he softly caresses the back of your head. "You're not losing me, Y/N. I promise. I'm right here. And I'm not going anywhere."

He pauses, taking a deep breath. "You're my priority, love. You and us. I know I haven't been showing it lately, but that doesn't mean my feelings have changed. You're the one I want to come home to. Nothing can change that as long as you want the same.”

Suddenly, you want to cry more. You feel a weight lift off your shoulders as you look up at him, seeing the sincerity in his eyes.

"Really?" You ask, your voice barely above a whisper. You continue looking at him, his eyes shining with conviction, and your heart swells with indecipherable emotions. You feel a lump form in your throat again, but this time, it's not from sadness or anxiety. It's from the overwhelming love and gratitude you feel for this man.

"Really," Jihoon repeats, his voice filled with affection. He leans in, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gentle kiss.

You close your eyes, letting the warmth of his touch seep into your skin. You feel assured now, and your tears dry as a soft smile spreads across your face.

Jihoon pulls back, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he smiles back at you. "I'm sorry again for making you worry," he says, his voice filled with regret. "I promise to do better, to make more time for you."

You shake your head, your smile growing wider. "You don't have to apologize, babe. I know you're busy, and I'm proud of you for working so hard."

He smiles back at you, internally glad that you both are able to talk things out like this. When his lips meet yours, you know you don't have to worry about anything. This man is the one for you, you're sure.

| @maestro-net

[jjkarmy091]

Second Best- Jungkook (part 8 )

Summary: Being friends with someone who has your heart it’s already hard, let alone when that special someone ends up falling in love with your best friend, the one you think would never make anything to hurt you . Will you be able to ignore it and move on? what will happen when everything gets too much for you to handle?

Genre: Friends to lovers; angst; body insecurities; bullying; friend betrayel;

Pairing: Jungkook x female!reader

Wordcount: 5.781

Author's note: It took me a lot but here it is. Got so many blocks writting this and I'm not satified with it. It doesn't matter how many time I write and rewrite it, it feels like it's never good enough but I tried my best so please go easy on me. Hope you like it and let me know if you want a next chapter or not. Also: I'm sorry for any mistakes

Love you loads <3

When Y/n woke up the next morning she could swear her head was gonna fall off. It was one of those headaches it makes you wanna clung onto the bedsheets and never leave ‘till the next day. Flashbacks of the night before went through her brain but she brushed them off. She wanted to enjoy the few days she had taken, yet she’s still thinking about the same. She thought she was doing a good job but Taehyung’s words didn’t really help too, she definitely was going to face Sewoon with all these facts. Y/n always chose kindness over anything else but would all of that have gotten her anywhere? Looking back, she had serious doubts about that. 

Getting up from the bed and heading to the bathroom she notices everything is still very quiet which means Lisa is still asleep. Y/n wants to do something nice for her so she decides to make a huge breakfast once she knows that food is Lisa's undoing and starts preparing things without making too much noise (or at least trying to). Everything’s almost ready when Y/n listens to steps aproaching the kitchen/living room area as she pours some orange juice in Lisa’s cup saying good morning. Lisa looks at her and smiles, answering her back and sitting down.  

“what’s all this?”  

“It’s just a way to thank you for being such a great person to me. I know I've been hard to handle these last days but I want you to know that I truly feel grateful for everything you’ve done for me so far. If it wasn’t for you I don’t know how things would’ve ended up for me, I’d probably be crying in my room, thinking how much I suck because the guy I’m in love with doesn’t love me back” 

“I told you Y/n, it’s completely fine. I always liked you. You bring such a positive vibe and you’re so kind and fun to be around. It’s good to be around you and if I can help you somehow I will.” A few minutes of silence passed until Lisa asked what she was dying to know. “Did you talk to him?” Y/n stops suddenly, swallows hard and shakes her head.  

“No” 

“care to explain why?” 

“I’ve been thinking about your words and you’re right! I have to stop being a pussy and be real with myself and my feelings, not for others but for me. All this mess started because I'm always comparing myself to others all the time. I was so scared that Sewoon and Jungkook would meet and I was the bridge for them to start something. I allowed this. If only I wasn't so afraid and had more confidence in myself maybe it would be me in Sewoon's place and that kills me inside Lisa. For once in my life it would have been simple and sincere and I'm the only one to blame for this."

"What makes you think he was never interested in you Y/n? Because from what you told me it seemed to me that he was quite into you” 

"He definitely wasn't Lisa, you're confusing things. He found my attitude towards him funny when we first met, I don't know. But he never showed any signs, he never said anything and I was afraid of destroying the friendship we were building by saying something. He even used to go on dates. At the end he would go to the coffee shop and we would talk about it and stuff.” 

Lisa frowned “So he went on dates but never hooked up with them afterwards? a boy in his prime, with basic needs and would always come to you afterwards? You never found anything weird?” 

“For what he told me he had just gotten out of a complicated relationship. I think he was more interested in meeting new people, go out for a bit, clear his head.” 

“and come back to you in the end” Lisa mocks while Y/n throws a piece of bread at her, hitting her in the forehead. “Don’t be annoying” 

“Y/n you may not understand much about boys but I do and that's not normal for someone who don't have feelings for you. At best, he would go home.” Y/n drank some of her juice. "stop it! if that was true he wouldn't have gone straight to my supposed best friend. Why would he do that if he was interested in me?  The way he looked at her, how he said she was the best thing that ever happened to him and that he would never be able to love anyone the way he loves her. Not to mention what he did for Sewoon. She told me some things and all I could think about was how I wish it was me instead. I hoped it was me but I'm a coward, that's why I'm still here, 23 years old and a virgin. Even in that regard, Sewoon was lucky.” Y/n looks at her plate, trying to avoid eye contact with Lisa, knowing that would be enough to make her start crying but kept talking

“How she described the way he touched her, grabbed her, how he -- in short, everything. There was this one time she couldn't stop talking about how and where they did it so I invented that I was super busy and couldn't talk so she could leave and I could cry in peace. I swore never again.” 

“After everything Tae told you do you still think things are as Sewoon says?” Y/n didn’t answer, instead she got up and started taking the dishes onto the table, washing them. Lisa got up too, leaving her plate in the sink "always listen to things with a hint of doubt but specially with your heart." Y/n decided to change the subject. 

“What are we doing today?” Lisa laughed “let’s introduce you to this place the right way. See something else than snowboards” With this they got ready for the day. Lisa already knew the place with the palm of her hands so she knew what and where to go with Y/n.  

Even tho her mind was still in another place she actually found herself enjoying their time there. She enjoyed it so much that she didn't even notice the days passing by until the day for them to leave had arrived. Although the first days were complicated now she didn't mind staying another day or two but there were things to fix that she was eager to mend and she wouldn't find the so needed peace she wanted until everything was cleared up.

On their last day there Lisa suggested to go for a hot chocolate where they found Tae and his friend once again. They saw each other a lot during their staying and ended up clearing everything up and agreed that Sewoon was a NO topic. That night they went to a club all together and Y/n remembers having so much fun and getting so drunk that she ended up on top of Tae's friend. (Not the way you guys are thinking, pervs ;)

Y/n already had too much to drink and once they were stepping out of the club she tripped and Tae's friend was there and tried to hold her only for Y/n to bring him down with her. All of them laughed and they even took a picture of them both on the floor in a suspicious position. She just hoped any of it would end up on social media, at least for now because she knew either Sewoon or Jungkook would see it, but of course things never go the way she wanted them too. On their way home Y/n got a notification on instagram saying Taehyung tagged her in a photo so she opened it and saw a set of pictures, the first being Y/n, Lisa, Tae and his friend with drinks on their hands and Tae's arm around Y/n's waist and the second just a photo of Y/n and Tae making a funny face among with other random pics with the caption “Glad to see an old flame again. Loved these days with the best people. Let's repeat it next year” Fuck

She still had two days before going back to work and a few hours' journey ahead of her and the last thing she wanted was to end these wonderful days in an anxiety attack at an airport far from home because of a set of pictures.

It was a peaceful trip, they both took the opportunity to sleep and rest during the flight since when they arrived they had a lot to do. Y/n agreed to move to Lisa's house just as she had proposed. One night before going to sleep she spoke with her landlord and canceled the lease so she had little time to organize her stuff and take them to Lisa's. As soon as the plane landed they looked at each other and smiled, grabbed their things and slowly walked out of the airport where Lisa's father was waiting for them. As soon as they got into the car, Lisa said 

“I'm sad it's over but I'm happy we're getting home. I honestly love traveling but the moment I get to my space and make myself comfortable at home is always the best of all. Speaking of it, we still have to get your things. How about we go to my house, unpack, have lunch and then pack the rest of your stuff? Unless you're tired”

“I agree with you Liz, nothing feels better than the comfort of home, and yes, I was thinking the same. I still have two days before going back to work so I have to make the most of it. Right now, i just really want to eat I’m starving and I can’t function without food” They both laugh. Lisa asked her father to turn on the radio and as soon as he did, Tate mcrae's new song started to play. Needless to say they started singing with all their power until they arrived at Lisa's house. Y/n didn't remember having that much fun, not even with Sewoon and she had known her for years.  

After arriving at the place, her father said goodbye to them and left their bags at the front door so they could unpack them. They decided to order Taco Bell and while they waited for food and for the washing machine to stop, they sat down on the sofa. Y/n was looking at her phone until she heard herself say 

“I don’t know what to do” Lisa gets confused and kept her silence in order for Y/n to say something else, getting comfy on the couch. It took her a while to speak again.

“I-  we got back to reality and I can't ignore the fact that I never spoke to Jungkook again ever since that day. It's making me nervous because my mind is racing 1000 percent, I mean, imagine he no longer wants to talk to me or listen to what I have to say.. In hindsight I should have said something to him but I was so hurt. Furthermore, I received a message from Sewoon asking what the hell I was doing with Tae without telling her. Let's just say it wasn’t a very nice message. What should I do Lisa?” 

“First of all breath Y/n. Being like this won't get you anywhere. Second: I honestly think you should send a text to Jungkook, tell him that you need to talk to him and that you know that ignoring him wasn't the right choice but that there are a lot of things he doesn't know and that it's difficult to explain. Ask him to meet, preferably in a place other than your work because it will draw a lot of attention on you. You still have time to get back to work, make the most of it before - " Before Lisa finished, the washing machine was heard making its characteristic sound and Lisa apologized and said she'd be right back while Y/n continued sitting on the sofa looking stupidly at her phone. Lisa was right, she couldn’t drag this anymore.

“Hi Jungkook, how are you? I hope you’re doing well. I’m doing good. I know i probably kept you up at night, or maybe you didn’t even think of me but still I’m writting this to give you some heads up on why I disappeared the way I did. Truth is, I had a lot going on these last few months and I know that’s not an excuse and I was on the wrong for not replying to your texts but honestly I didn’t know what else to do. I was in a real mess. I still am and the way I thought it was possible to get out of this chaos inside my mind was to escape my reality and move away. I'm sorry, I know I should have said something but I'm ready to explain everything to you now, if you still want to.  

I love you.” 

During the rest of the day Lisa helped Y/n move her things to her new place. The fact that she didn’t have a lot of things made it easier. After that, they went grocery shopping and ended up passing by Y/n’s work and decided to walk in being greeted for her co-worker Sana 

“Ohh well well well. Who do we have here? Good evening lady and welcome back! thought you’d never show your face around here again. I already miss you, how are you doing? And most importantly, when will you return? I'm so tired of putting up with the boss alone, everyday he gets more and more annoying” She says making Y/n and Lisa laugh. 

“It’s been wonderful having some days to actually rest, sad to see it end” Yn says with a smile. “How’s it going around here?” 

“Pretty much the same you know. Had your really hot friend coming over everyday at the same hour he used to come. I guess he didn’t believe me when I told him you took some days off. Weird you didn’t, you guys were so close and were together all the time I thought you’d end up together after he broke things off with Sewoon. The last time I saw him was two days ago with her actually. They came here together.” Y/n’s heart stopped for a second and she had a hard time breathing all of a sudden 

“Together how?”  

“Like I said they came in here together, sat at that table over there and chatted for a while. It was a very busy shift and I was alone here so I couldn’t see or hear a lot. When it calmed down I looked at them, Jungkook was holding her hand and saying something to her while she looked like she was crying or about to. Then I couldn't understand anything else because several customers came in at the same time. When I noticed, he was already coming to pay and Sewoon was at the entrance waiting for him. That day he didn't say anything, he looked somewhere behind me but didn't speak, he just smiled, paid and left but I couldn’t see if he went alone or with her. I’m sorry”  

Of course this was going to happen, all she had to do was disappear for a few days and they wouldn't waste time getting on top of each other. She was so stupid. Was she really worthless? Lisa looked at her worriedly but didn't say anything, simply ordered two drinks while Y/n thanked her and looked out the window. If she had known, she would have enjoyed the trip even more without thinking about those two. She felt bad about leaving Jungkook in a vacuum and he was very much entertained. She always had a tiny bit of hope but what for? Sana had left to prepare their order when Lisa spoke 

“Don't pay attention to it Y/n. It could be many things, you don't know. If he really was with her why was he always coming over and asking about you?” 

“Because that’s what friends are supposed to do Lisa! They worry about each other, which makes sense given how I left the club that night and the fact that I didn't say anything to him in the following days made him think that something bad had happened to me. Everything friendship based.. Maybe that's why he didn't answer me, because he's with her. Sewoon must have shown him the photos we took with Tae on vacation. He was sure I was okay so he moved on with her, again.  

Lisa didn't have the chance to say anything because their order was given to them and they said goodbye to Sana and made their way to the car. Lisa started driving and to get home they had to pass by Y/n's old house. As they approached the road Y/n saw someone she knew very well, Sewoon and next to her was Jungkook in front of her old appartment. As if they could see her, Y/n leaned as far back as she could against the seat.  

""Lisa, for all that is most sacred to you, please don't stop here, don't look, don't do anything other than move as quickly as possible. Don’t ask me anything just go!" 

Always the second, never the chosen, as always. 

-------------------------------------------------------------- 

As they get to their now shared apartment Y/n tells Lisa that she's not hungry and if she doesn't mind she's going to rest because it was a very long day and that tomorrow is the last day and she wants to take the opportunity to organize the rest of her things and relax. Lisa says she doesn't mind at all, that she also feels the same and is going to rest, specially because the next day she has a last minute meeting.

Y/n tried to make Lisa not notice it but she's not stupid. As she drove past Y/n's old building she saw the silhouettes that bothered her so much and all she had to do was put two and two together upon seeing her reaction. The only thing she wanted was to park and give Sewoon a good slap and tell her everything she had been holding back so far.  

After getting home both went to their rooms. Y/n couldn’t get any sleep. She tossed and turned but sleep was far away.  Y/n looked at her phone and still no text or call from Jungkook. Why was she stupid and sent him a text? Clearly he wasn't worried at all, not even an "ok" he had responded. Suddenly she felt her eyes blurry and that was when she realized the tears rolling down her cheeks. She thought she was worth more, even if it was just in terms of friendship. After some time lost in her own thoughts, she decided to put on her headphones and try to get some sleep and managed to do so after a few hours. 

The next day, when she woke up it felt like she had been hit by a bus. Lisa had also gone out to deal with some matters at work, at least she remembered mentioning something about it. Once alone, Y/n had decided to stay in bed. Honestly she wasn't in the mood to do anything else and wanted to take to relax since she was going back to work the next day. Willingness? none. It was going to be hard but the way things were going neither Jungkook nor Sewoon were going to show up there or so she thought.

The next day her alarm went off and Y/n got ready for the day. She was going to do a double shift today since Sana was off, so she was on her own. For some reason she was nervous, it seemed like it was her first day again so her anxiety was on the roof. 

As incredible as it may seem, as soon as she arrived she saw her regular customers greeting her and telling her how much they missed her (most of them elderly people who used to frequent the shop even before she worked there and who had loved her since her first day) relaxed her immediately. Everything went very well. During her break Lisa went to see her and they chatted and drank coffee before going back to do the other part of the shift. Until then, everything was going perfectly. No sign of people she didn't want to see, she hadn't had any rude customers and her boss was in a very good mood. It was all too good to be true since luck is not something that goes on her side. 

Y/n was getting ready to close the shop and at that point she was usually alone. She was putting the chairs on the table when she heard the entrance bell signal that someone else was there with her. When she turned to inform the customer that they were closed, she came across someone she didn't want or even expeected to see.

In front of her was Jungkook with wet hair and helmet in hand. He seemed agitated, confused and angry. Very angry. Y/n couldn't help but notice the dark circles under his eyes as if he hadn't slept in days. She stopped on the spot, what would she say or do? They hadn't seen or spoken to each other for almost a week and the atmosphere was tense and she just wanted to disappear. 

He looked at her with such an intense gaze that she had to turn away while saying "we are closed" and pretended to keep doing what she was doing. 

"Really? After days of complete silence while i was worried sick about you. After leaving without any kind of warning? After that stupid fight on the club and sudden departure with someone that neither Sewoon nor I knew, that's all you have to tell me? we are closed? Are you for real?” 

Y/n stopped doing what she was doing but kept her back to him. It’s a good thing he couldn't see her because her hands were like jelly, shaking so much that she thought she was going to faint right there, however continued to act tough and ignored him, took a deep breath and started walking to the counter until she felt a hand grab her arm.  

“Y/n please stop shitting me. I’ve been going crazy these last few days because of you and you act like you don't care. I don't know what's worse, your attitude or the fact that I don't recognize you at all" and with these words Y/n turned around and looked at him with tears threatening to fall. She released herself from Jungkook's hand and turned completely towards him. She was on the verge of bursting. 

“You. Out of all people YOU are the only one who can't say that. I did everything for you Jungkook. I was always there for you when you needed me, remember? I knew when you were good, when you were sad, when it wasn't the best time to talk and when you wanted to say something but didn't know how. You needed me and I was there but when it was the other way around, were you there for me? Did you care at all?” she sighed “All this because I didn't answer to some calls and texts from you? You were so worried about me that you were always tied to Sewoon, don't tell me you were also worried about me when you were inside her. Be honest Jungkook, you only remembered me when it suited you. Admit it, when it comes to me you don't think twice." 

Jungkook didn't say anything, he looked at her as if she had just stuck a knife into him. He expected everything but this version of Y/n. He had noticed for some time she was different but he never asked her because he didn't want to bring up the subject that was bothering her hoping she’d be the one to open up to him yet it seems like it was a bad decision to wait. Maybe he should have talked to her when he noticed it, he knows he was stupid but he wasn't going to give in now. He was about to speak again when Y/n continued her speech.

“Things weren't supposed to be like this but everything is already ruined so what I'm about to say won't make a difference and honestly I'm tired of staying silent so as not to hurt other people and try to please them. That's why I'm in this shit right now, so here it goes.” Y/n looks him straight in the eyes and more tears run down her face, it's now or never. 

“I’m in love with you Jungkook”

As soon as the words left her mouth, a sob came out as well. This is where it ends and she knows it. His expression changed from angry to pure shock. She knew him very well, but at this moment she couldn't read his thoughts, everything was so confusing, he seemed so confused and she didn't understand why. She was breaking and to avoid even more suffering said

“Please let's not talk about this anymore. Things are pretty obvious and we don't need to drag this out any further. I need to close this Jungkook, I'm tired and I need--" 

“How long Y/n? How long have you felt this way?” Jungkook's look was anything but disappointed. It was a look she couldn't decipher and she also didn't know if she wanted to. Y/n looked down and replied 

“ A few months after we met and started hanging out more” Jungkook turned around and placed his elbows on the counter and his hands resting on his head.  

“And you never thought to tell me? Don't you think that would be a good thing to do?” he sounded so mad. “All this time you had feelings for me and you never said anything, never showed any signs and now I'm the bad guy for moving on with my life? And why you’re talking about Sewoon? We broke things off a long time ago and you know it. You were there!” 

“Ohh please Jungkook, anything but that. I'm not blaming you for anything, in fact, I even supported you, remember ? it was ME who introduced you to Sewoon  because YOU wanted me to! Even if I told you earlier what would change? Every time you came to me it was either because you just had a dinner date or someone had asked for your number. You love to say I'm always on your mind, I guess that I wasn’t on it those nights. I'm just the girl you would share things with and ask for advice, you don't have to be very smart to see that.” 

“Is that why you left without saying anything?” Y/n looked at him and when he saw that he wasn't getting a response, he went to her and got so close that she could see all the moles on his face, some that she hadn't even realized he had.  

“Y/n answer me. It's the least I deserve.” Even though there was some distance between them, Y/n felt trapped so she decided to move away a little, hitting her back on the counter. 

“Yes. After our conversation at the club and the way I saw you look at Sewoon I realized that there was no chance for me, not that I didn't already know, but I got the confirmation that day and the way you were more interested in going to her than hearing me confirmed my guesses once again, yet it was when you went to her and you kissed in the middle of all those people that my heart was left in pieces. I looked at you and instead of being happy that my best friend was back with the girl he's in love with, I just wished it was me in her place. I had to get out of there before everyone saw me break." Y/n cleaned some tears that were running down

"In Sewoon's eyes I'm already pathetic, but in yours? I preferred to die than to know you had that image of me. I went to the bathroom and that's when I met a friend from school, we ended up talking and exchanging contacts. She asked me if I wanted a ride and I took the opportunity to leave, that's when you found me. That night I spent at her house and she made me an offer and invited me to go traveling with her. For my mental health I accepted and only God knows what it cost me not to have said anything to you and I'm really sorry for that, I know it wasn't the right thing to do, but Jungkook you didn't care either because when I texted you back you never answered me. You can't judge my actions after having done the same thing.”

“You could never be pathetic y/n. I've always said how much I admire the way you are and I keep praising that, I would never get that impression of you. I know you went on a trip with Lisa and two other boys, Sewoon had shown me pictures of you, that's why I don't understand Y/n, none of this adds up. And I never received any text from you because unlike you, every day I checked if you had come to work, if you sent anything or if Sewoon knew anything about you. That's the reason I was with Sewoon a lot more these last few days. It's sad that I only found out that you were back because I saw your friend here yesterday, I recognized her from those photos, so I went to her and asked her about you. She told me you were coming back to work today and to show up around this time because you'd be alone. I was crazy looking for you, wondering if you were in a dead end, that's when Sewoon called me saying you were okay, hanging with some guys you probably met there. She also sent me the pictures, that's when I calmed down.”

Y/n didn't know which part made her more shocked, if the fact that Lisa spoke to Jungkook or knowing Sewoon sent the photos to him and omitted the fact that they both know the boy in question.

"Oh my god. After all this time Sewoon is still keeping you in the dark. Well just so you know the guy who posted the pictures is Sewoons ex-boyfriend, the one she left you for. Remember when she broke up with you? Yeah it was because of him. There are definitely things you should clarify with her, as she changes everything that corresponds to reality. Things that don't concern me at all and to be honest I'm tired of this conversation, it doesn't matter anymore. Things happened and it's ove, so if you don't mind it was a complicated day --” She didn't expect Jungkook to get so close to her but the truth is that they were centimeters away from each other and that was making her even more nervous and uncomfortable. She tried to get around him but he put his arms on either side of Y/n's body, trapping her there.  

"Did it work? Did you forget about me there? Did any of those guys help you forget me?”  Y/n had no response, she was completely surrendered to looking between his eyes and lips. She wasn't brave enough to grab him and kiss him, specially since he was still fooling around with Sewoon or so she thought, even tho the denied it. Still she wouldn't feel good doing that even if Sewoon hadn't been the best friend, so she did what she does best, avoided the interaction.  

“"I had fun and regardless of things I don't owe you any kind of explanation. I finally learned my lesson and you're not the exception, Jungkook. You're the rule and I don't give second chances to get me hurt, not even to you. I don't want to continue in this agony every time I see you and ask myself why others and not me? It took me a long time to get there but I finally managed to understand that as long as I don't like and accept myself as I am, neither will others and for that reason I ask you not to come here again. This is a closed subject and one that I want to bury.”  

“We’re not done having this conversation Y/n, I have to tell you some-”  

“Yes we are Jungkook, don’t you get it? I just told you I’m in love with you. My best friend who’s in love with my other best friend, who's still into her ex boyfriend. Did you even hear what I said about Sewoon?"

" I don't care about Sewoon,Y/n. Don't you fucking get it? All this time the only person on my mind was you. I tried really hard not to call you because why would I need to know where you were or who you were with. In your eyes I dated your best friend but in my eyes the only thing that connected me to her was you."

"Lisa has been fixing something she didn’t break because of how weak I was to stand for myself. I’m tired of being this innocent and naive girl everyone can step on. I'm not blaming you Jungkook, you didn't know and things turned out this way and it's okay. It's over and I think it's the best for you and me. I’ll be here if you need something but right now I don’t want to be around you. I need to fix myself before being there for you or Sewoon again and if you really care about me you’ll respect that” 

“Y/n, you're not understanding I--"

“Please Jungkook, just go. Let me do this for me and maybe we can talk about this in the future and laugh about it.” He didn't say anything else, he swallowed hard, shook his head, picked up his helmet and left, slamming the door loudly and that's when y/n collapsed. 

"I love you Jungkook. I love you so much but I can't be your second option." Y/n said as she slid down the wall, succumbing to the pain of something she never had.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

tags: @esposadomd @joonlover1207 @eegyo @furrywonderlandwolf @minghaosimp @differentrunawayperson @nikkinikj @jksusawife @jk97bam @cryingoverpixelsetc @bhonbhon @lostinneocity @almostpurplelady @meowforluv @imagine-this-motherfucker @jk-190811 @cryingoverpixelsetc @11thenightwemet11 @rinkud @ayatie97 @jk-190811 @shaku1995

Next

[eu-nicola]

the finish line part 3

summary: you are the girlfriend of Lando Norris, Max Verstappen's rival with whom the tension between the two is undeniable.

warnings: nothing

word counter: 6122

author's note: english is not my first language, penultimate part

tags: @ferakillia @bunnies-p1tst0p @maluzets55

Determined to work things out, you called Lando and asked to speak in person. Even though deep down you already knew it would be a difficult and probably painful conversation, you also knew you couldn’t keep running away from your problems. Lando agreed to meet you at the hotel cafeteria, though his tone on the phone sounded tense and distant.

As you got ready, your stomach was turning. You thought back to the pictures and messages you’d received, the missed calls Lando had made to you after being discovered, and everything that had happened between you and Max. You took a breath, trying to calm the whirlwind of thoughts. You looked at yourself in the mirror one last time, wanting to feel safe, and walked out to Lando’s hotel.

When you got to the cafeteria, you found him already waiting for you at a table in the back. He had a stiff posture, his hands folded in front of him on the table and his gaze fixed on the coffee in front of him. His eyes lifted slightly when he saw you arrive, and you noticed the mix of discomfort and guilt he was trying to hide under a calm facade.

You sat in silence, watching him carefully. After a few seconds, he broke the silence.

“Look, I don’t want… this conversation to get out of hand,” Lando began, his voice wavering. “I know you’re upset, and I’m clear on why. I just want you to know that… it wasn’t what it seemed.”

You looked at him, eyes narrowing. His words sounded forced, as if he was trying to convince himself of what he was saying. It hurt you to see him like this, so changed, so full of insecurity.

“It wasn’t what it seemed, Lando?” you asked, keeping your tone firm. “I saw the photos. Everyone has seen them.”

He frowned, clearly upset.

“You don’t have to make this any harder,” he replied in a defensive tone. “It was a mistake. I was just… I needed to distract myself.” But that doesn't change how I feel about you.

A mixture of anger and disappointment ran through you. You had expected a sincere apology, something more than excuses and empty promises. You tried to remain calm, but your words came out with the coldness of truth.

"How I feel has changed too, Lando," you said quietly. "All of this... I don't know if it makes sense."

Lando lowered his gaze, but you noticed that he still maintained that defensive air. It was clear that he wasn't fully assuming his responsibility; he didn't seem willing to face the consequences of his decisions.

"So this is it?" he asked in a bitter tone. "For a mistake? You weren't even there to support me like you always do. And what was I supposed to do?" His words sounded reproachful, as if he were trying to transfer part of the blame to you.

You bit your lip, holding back your fury. You knew it had been difficult for him not to have you around, but that didn't justify his attitude. Finally, you gathered your courage and faced the issue once and for all.

“This isn’t just about what happened, Lando. There’s something bigger going on here,” you told him firmly. “I need some time to think, to get clear on what I really want. I can’t stay in a relationship where I constantly have to worry about whether or not you’ll do the right thing when I’m gone.”

He gulped, and for a moment, you saw a flash of genuine pain in his eyes. But instead of acknowledging the problem, he chose to back away once again.

“Do what you want then,” he said, letting out a frustrated sigh and looking away. “If you need time, go ahead. I’m not going to stop you.”

Those words were confirmation of everything you had felt during this last stage of your relationship. Without further ado, you stood up, leaving one last glance at the one you had considered your partner for so long. There was a moment of silence between the two of you, and then you turned around and walked out of the coffee shop without looking back.

As you walked away, you felt a strange mix of relief and sadness. You had hoped that this conversation would bring you some sort of peace, a reconciliation, or at least a heartfelt explanation. But instead, it only confirmed what you already feared: perhaps it was time to put an end to it.

Back in your hotel room, you took a seat on the bed and looked around, trying to process everything that had happened. The room was silent, and the weight of your decision began to settle in, bringing with it a wave of conflicting emotions. You pulled out your phone and, almost without thinking, opened the message Max had sent you hours ago, wondering how your conversation with Lando had gone.

Without much hesitation, you wrote him a short reply.

You: “We just talked… and I think I need some time to sort out my feelings.”

After a few minutes, the phone vibrated. Max had replied:

Max: “Do whatever you need. Just remember that if you decide to move on, I’m here for you. You don’t have to face it alone.”

Reading his words, you felt a small spark of calm, as if the weight of everything that had happened had lightened a little. You knew that this time away would be necessary to understand what it was that you really wanted, but there was one thing clear in all of this: you needed to feel authentic again, without the shadows of a relationship that had begun to consume more than it offered.

Even though you wanted to take some time off, the last race of the year was being held in Abu Dhabi, and you had to attend. For you, the trip had a professional purpose: the promotion of Rolex. Despite having distanced yourself from Lando and having spent a few days trying to find clarity about your feelings, you knew that this race would also be the closing of an intense and emotional season.

Dressed elegantly, you wore a shiny Rolex watch that caught the light with every movement. As you walked through the paddock, you felt the gazes of some acquaintances and other members of the industry; everyone knew that you had been a constant figure in Lando's team, and now it seemed strange to see you in an independent context.

While you were fulfilling your promotional tasks, you crossed paths with Max. He wore his usual determined expression, but this time there was something different in his gaze. When he saw you, his eyes lit up slightly, as if something in him had made up his mind. You noticed that, despite the crowd, his steps were heading straight towards you, with a confidence that made your pulse race.

"Hey," he said, smiling slightly. "I didn't think I'd find you here so early. How have you been?" His tone was warm, close, something different from the previous times.

“I'm… fine, I guess” you answered, trying to sound casual, although the closeness made you feel a mix of nervousness and curiosity. “I had to be here for Rolex. You know what this sponsorship thing is like.”

He nodded, and for a moment they remained silent, watching the hustle and bustle of preparations around them.

“I know things have been complicated for you lately” Max said, with a more serious tone than usual. “And I don't want to seem nosy, but… I haven't stopped thinking about what we talked about last time.”

The sincerity in his words threw you off a little. You had tried to stay distant, focus on yourself, and not think about everything you had experienced. But there was Max, with his penetrating gaze and his usual confidence, willing to open up in a way that you hadn't seen in him until now.

“I'm not here to pressure you” he continued, looking into your eyes. “I just wanted you to know that… I’m willing to fight for you, if you just give me a chance.”

His confession resonated with you, breaking the barrier you had built up over the past few weeks. You felt like it wasn’t just a passing statement; there was a depth to his words that made you doubt everything you had tried to rationalize. Deep down, something in you had been waiting to hear this, though you refused to admit it.

“Max…” you began, not knowing exactly how to express what you felt. “I don’t know if this is the right thing to do. After everything that’s happened, I’m not sure that getting more involved is the best thing for either of us.”

He nodded, listening to each word patiently.

“I know,” he replied. “But there’s something I’ve learned this season, and that is that important opportunities aren’t always the easiest ones. I’ve been avoiding speaking clearly to you because I didn’t want to make things more complicated for you. But if I’m honest, I can’t pretend that I don’t care about you.”

The seriousness in his eyes left you speechless. He wasn’t the usual Max, arrogant and competitive; he was someone vulnerable, showing a part of him that was rarely seen. And although a part of you wanted to keep putting up barriers, another, deeper part of you was starting to give in to his words and his sincerity.

You took a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts.

“What happened with Lando was difficult… and I don’t want you to be just a distraction, Max.” It wouldn't be fair to either of you.

He took a step closer, not invading your personal space, but enough for you to feel his presence more intensely.

"I'm not someone who'll settle for being a distraction," he said with a slight smile, but his tone was firm. "What I feel for you is real. And if you give me the chance, I'm willing to show you that I'm someone you can trust."

His words enveloped you, making you feel a warmth and security that you hadn't experienced in a long time. The hardness of the breakup with Lando was still present, but Max's presence offered you an alternative, a chance to rediscover what you really wanted and, perhaps, to be happy in a fuller sense.

After a few seconds of silence, you took a breath, letting your own emotions take control.

"I don't know what will happen after all this..." you murmured, looking at the floor for a moment before looking up and meeting his gaze. "But I think I'm willing to see where this takes us."

The smile on his face was almost imperceptible, but his eyes shone with a mix of determination and tenderness.

“Then I’ll start showing it from now on,” he said, taking your hand gently. “I don’t want you to feel pressured, I just want you to know that I’m here for you. No matter how long it takes.”

After that brief exchange with Max, he said goodbye with a wink and walked away, leaving behind a feeling of anticipation that you couldn’t shake. You watched as he walked towards the Red Bull paddock, surrounded by his team, while you stood still for a moment, trying to clear your thoughts.

You decided it was time to move as well. You walked through the paddock area, the hustle and bustle around you. Drivers, engineers and journalists came and went, all focused on their own roles.

Suddenly, you saw him. Lando was up ahead, briefly chatting with one of the McLaren mechanics. He turned slightly, and for a moment, his eyes met yours. It was an instant, there was no smile, no nod of recognition, just eye contact that spoke of everything beneath the surface. He seemed distant, almost cold, and before you could say anything, he looked away and kept walking.

You stood still, feeling a knot form in your stomach. That small gesture, or lack thereof, hit you harder than you expected. You knew Lando was in his zone of concentration, but you couldn’t ignore the growing emotional distance that seemed to exist between you since you arrived in Qatar.

You took a deep breath and forced yourself to keep walking, telling yourself that you couldn’t read too much into a simple glance. But the awkwardness remained.

As you left the paddock area you went straight to the VIP area to watch the race. The race was certainly a spectacle from the start. Max started from pole, while Lando started from second position.

From the first lap, Max took the lead, controlling the pace with ruthless precision. Behind him, Lando followed closely, pushing at every opportunity. But as the laps progressed, it became clear that Red Bull had fine-tuned their car to perfection. Max seemed untouchable.

Lando, however, was not giving up. He kept fighting, looking for every millimetre of advantage, every opportunity to close the gap. Until lap 38 came around. It all happened in the blink of an eye. In the fast corner before the main straight, Lando's car lost grip. Perhaps a miscalculation or just bad luck, but the McLaren hit the wall with a sharp impact. The yellow flag waved immediately, and your heart skipped a beat.

From your spot, your eyes were fixed on the giant screen, watching anxiously. Lando got out of the car quickly, waving his hands to indicate that he was okay, but you could see the frustration in his every move. He was furious.

As the McLaren team scrambled to pick up the remains of the car, the race continued. Max continued to dominate, and with each lap, his victory became more inevitable. Finally, he crossed the finish line in first place, securing the race win. Fireworks lit up the sky, and the Red Bull team erupted in celebrations.

When it was all over, you headed towards the McLaren paddock, where you saw him surrounded by his team, his face grim and his brow furrowed. There was no trace of the carefree smile he normally wore.

As he spoke to his engineers, you locked eyes with him for a brief second. He looked exhausted, not just physically, but emotionally. But he didn't say anything, and neither did you. Without exchanging words, you turned around and began walking towards the exit.

The day had been intense, and you needed time to process it all. You took a cab back to your hotel, watching the city lights flicker through the window as you sank into your thoughts. Lando was fine physically, and that was the most important thing.

Once in your room, you kicked off your shoes and dropped into bed. The day had been a whirlwind of emotions: worry about Lando, what you had talked about with Max, and a growing confusion within yourself. You picked up your phone and left it on the nightstand. You didn't know whether to expect a text from Lando or Max. Or maybe neither.

You sighed and closed your eyes.

You had barely laid down when the glow of your phone illuminated the darkness of the room. For a moment, you thought it might be Lando, perhaps to talk about what happened at the race, but when you saw Max’s name on the screen, your heart skipped a little.

Max: “I hope you’re okay after all the drama today. Listen, I was thinking… I’m going home to Monaco to rest before the next season. How about you come with me? It’d be great to have you here.”

The message was direct and blunt, typical of Max. You stared at the screen, your fingers trembling slightly on the keyboard. The proposal took you by surprise, but at the same time, there was a part of you that had anticipated it.

You knew that accepting that invitation would involve much more than a simple vacation. It wasn't just the getaway to Monaco, it was everything that it meant: getting away from Lando once and for all from your own doubts, and facing the growing attraction you felt for Max.

You bit your lip, thinking of all the possible consequences. But then, your fingers began to move almost of their own volition.

You: "I don't know if it's a good idea, Max. This is all complicated."

It wasn't long before he responded.

Max: “Complicated? Maybe. But sometimes the complicated is the most exciting. You don't have to decide now. Think about it. I promise it will be an unforgettable trip."

You closed your eyes, trying to calm your heartbeat. The silence of the room surrounded you, but your thoughts were chaos. You could imagine Max in his suite, confident and relaxed, waiting for your answer as if he already knew what it would be.

Several hours passed, with the conversation on hold. Finally, you found yourself typing something you didn't think would come out of you.

You: "Okay. I'll go. But only because I need a break, and Monaco sounds like a good place to clear my mind."

His reply came almost instantly.

Max: "Yeah, sure, just for that, but perfect. You won't regret it. Let me know when you get there and I'll take care of everything.”

You stared at your phone after reading those words, feeling a mix of excitement and nervousness. You had made a decision that could change everything, and while a part of you was scared, another couldn't wait to see what that vacation would bring.

The day of your flight to Monaco came faster than you expected. You had been tossing and turning in bed all night, thinking about what this new stage meant. Max had been clear in his invitation, and although you were hesitant at first, you couldn't help but feel excited about the trip. What started as a simple getaway to relax had turned into an opportunity to get to know a different side of Max. A side that until now you had only seen from afar.

You took an early morning flight, without looking back. As the plane flew through the sky, you immersed yourself in thoughts about everything you had left behind.

You arrived in Monaco around afternoon, and the airport was full of tourists, celebrities, and important figures. The warm, salty Mediterranean air mixed with the hustle and bustle of the people, and you could feel the vibrant energy emanating from the city streets.

You picked up your suitcase and quickly headed to the car Max had arranged for you. You knew you couldn't miss a second of this glamorous city, and you felt a little nervous. What did Max expect from you? How would all this change after a few days in his company?

The car drove through the narrow, elegant streets of Monaco, passing by the famous casinos, luxury yachts, and hills overlooking the sea. The scenery was stunning, as always, but even more impressive was what you felt when you thought of Max waiting for you.

When you arrived at Max's residence, a luxurious apartment overlooking the port, a butler greeted you with a smile and led you to the door. The suite was everything you had imagined: modern, spacious, and with a stunning view of the sea and yachts. The decor was elegant but warm, with touches of wood and soft colors. It wasn't just any place; it was a place designed for someone like him, someone accustomed to perfection.

You left your suitcase on the bed and looked at the clock. You knew Max had to be nearby. Not even ten minutes had passed when you heard the door open. You turned around and there he was, Max, with his characteristic air of confidence, but with something different in his gaze. It was as if, for a moment, everything was just for the two of them.

"Do you like the place?" he asked, approaching with a smile on his face.

“It’s… amazing,” I replied, looking around, trying to hide how nervous I felt.

Max took a step towards you, his gaze locked on yours, and although he seemed relaxed, there was something about his posture that gave away his interest. There was a spark in his eyes, something that made your heart beat a little faster. He moved even closer, and before you could react, his hands rested on your waist.

“I wasn’t sure if you wanted to come, but I’m glad you agreed,” he said quietly, almost as if he was reading your thoughts.

You were in the heart of Monaco, and although the surroundings were luxurious and surrounded by powerful people, all that really mattered at that moment was the silent connection you shared with Max.

“What do we do now?” you asked, the nervousness starting to dissipate a little.

“Whatever you want,” Max replied, with a mischievous smile. “But, if you ask me, I think we could start with dinner.”

Before you could say anything else, he took you by the hand and led you through the apartment, into the open kitchen.

Max’s kitchen was just as modern as the rest of the place, with white marble surfaces that reflected the warm light from the lamps. Max began pulling fresh ingredients out of the fridge, inviting you to join him without thinking twice. At first, you were hesitant, but something in his eyes invited you to stay.

“Do you know how to cook?” you asked as you watched him pull out tomatoes, basil, and olive oil.

Max smiled mischievously, a glint in his blue eyes. “I know a little. But only if you don’t mind getting your hands a little dirty.”

You laughed at the idea. “I’m not a chef, but I can try.”

And so, between laughs and small jokes, they began to prepare dinner together. Max had decided to make fresh pasta with homemade pesto, one of his favorite dishes. While he was busy with the pasta, you took care of the salad, chopping vegetables and arranging the ingredients carefully. It was a simple, but shared moment, and the dynamic between the two of you felt natural, as if you had been doing this for years.

As the preparation progressed, the distance between you disappeared. Max gently guided you, giving you instructions on how to handle the ingredients, his hands sometimes brushing yours as you passed utensils or adjusted something in the pot. The conversation flowed easily, and you realized that, without thinking about it, you felt more comfortable with him than you had ever imagined.

When the pasta was ready, Max served it elegantly on two large plates, and together you sat at the table, enjoying the view offered by the balcony as the sun began to set behind the hills. The golden light illuminated the room and reflected off the glass, creating a warm and welcoming atmosphere. The table was well set, but the conversation and proximity made everything seem much more intimate than it actually was.

“This is amazing,” you said, taking a bite of the pasta and nodding. “You surprise me.”

Max smiled, with a hint of pride. “I told you, I knew you’d appreciate it.”

The evening continued with laughter and anecdotes, talking about other things, about travel and what you liked to do in your free time. Max seemed genuinely interested in you, in your opinions, in what you thought about the small details of life. There was something so real and accessible about him at that moment, that you completely forgot the fact that, hours before, you had arrived in Monaco with a host of mixed emotions. Now, all that mattered was the present moment.

At the end of dinner, as the plates were empty and the wine glasses were slowly emptying, Max leaned slightly towards you, his gaze locked on yours. The room was quiet, the sound of the distant city, and for a second, it seemed like there were only the two of you left, sharing that space.

“You know?” he said, his voice soft, “I think this has been much better than any dinner I could have planned. I’m happy you came.”

You, without thinking too much about it, smiled and nodded. “I’m happy too. I didn’t imagine it would end like this.”

Max smiled again, and this time, the expression on his face was different. Softer, more approachable. It wasn’t just the confident, competitive Max from racing, but a version of him that seemed more vulnerable, more willing to share something more personal.

The chemistry between you was clear, and for the first time, you realized it wasn't just a superficial attraction. There was something much deeper, something you didn't know if it could be defined with words. But at that moment, there was no need. Being there, with Max, cooking, laughing, and sharing such a simple moment, was all you needed to know.

As the days passed in Monaco, the connection between you and Max became more and more evident.

Mornings were quiet, usually spent touring the city or relaxing on the terrace of his apartment while the sun slowly slipped over the horizon, tinting the sky in golden colors. Max was always around, whether it was to share a coffee in silence or to talk about what he was thinking for the next race. Often, their conversations were light, but there were times when, without warning, Max would drop a phrase or a confession that showed you a side of him you had never seen before.

One day, after lunch together, Max drove you through the mountains surrounding Monaco. As they drove along the winding roads, he began to talk, unprompted, about his life, about what it had taken to become who he was.

“My career isn’t just the podium, you know,” he said, looking out the window as the car moved down the road. “It’s everything I’ve had to leave behind: the parties, the relationships, the sacrifices… There are so many things people don’t see, so many difficult decisions.”

You looked at him with a mix of surprise and admiration. Max had never been a person who opened up easily, always so focused on his goal, so focused on winning and perfection. But now, he was speaking to you with brutal honesty, as if somehow, he had decided to share the deepest part of himself with you.

“I know,” you answered calmly, not knowing what else to say, but you looked at him with genuine understanding. “You’ve been at the center of all this since you were so young.” It’s not easy, and people often don’t understand what it entails.

Max nodded slowly, his eyes fixed on the landscape as the car continued on its way.

“That’s why it’s hard to trust people sometimes, you know?” he said, his voice laced with subtle melancholy. “Everyone expects something from you, and sometimes you don’t even know if people like you for who you are, or for what you represent.”

A wave of empathy washed over you. Max had lived a life full of expectations, external pressures, pain, and it wasn’t hard to see how all of that had made him close some emotional doors. But in that moment, it seemed like you had somehow entered his inner circle. You had gotten him to open up, to share something so personal.

What surprised you the most was the way he understood you. It wasn’t just that Max listened to you; he understood you. In every conversation, in every gesture, there was something about him that seemed to sense what you felt, what you needed without you having to explain it with words. He wasn’t like Lando, who, although he had always been affectionate, had never shown that level of deep understanding. Lando had his own way of seeing things, but in his words there was never a place for your dreams or your insecurities. With Max, everything was different.

Max also began to talk about his long-term ambitions, about what he wanted outside of the race track, things that weren’t just achievements, medals or trophies. He told you about his love for family, his desire to form one.

Sometimes, you found yourself watching him as he spoke, unable to help but feel drawn not only to his appearance, but to the vulnerability he had begun to show. This was a different Max, a Max who asked for your opinion and valued what you said, and although he could be competitive and stubborn at times, there was something in his gaze that made you feel important.

And you, of course, couldn't help but share your own thoughts with him. At first, you thought it would be hard for you to open up so much to someone, but with him, everything flowed. You felt free to talk about your goals, about fashion, about your own fears, about your insecurities. Max supported you at all times, without judging or pressuring you, just giving you his unconditional support. The way he looked at you while you talked made you feel like, for the first time, someone really understood you.

That connection was getting stronger, getting more and more impossible to ignore. And you knew, even though you tried to stay rational, that something was changing between the two of you. It wasn't just the chemistry, it wasn't just the shared smiles or the jokes, it was something deeper. Max was becoming someone more than just the Formula 1 driver you admired from afar. And you... you were starting to have feelings for him.

As the days went by and you shared more moments together, from impromptu dinners to walks around the harbor, you realized that Max was showing you a side of him that few knew about, and that side was winning you over in a way you couldn't control. It was such a stark contrast to the relationship you had with Lando, because with him, everything had always been more superficial, more loaded with expectations of what a relationship should be.

With Max, things seemed more real, more natural. And even though you didn't know how he felt exactly, you couldn't help but feel that this moment you shared was something unique.

The air in Monaco felt heavier that day, as if the sun was shining brighter as you walked through the city with Max by your side, enjoying the scenery, but at the same time with a feeling of unease in your chest. Max, noticing your change in mood, looked at you with slight concern.

“Everything okay?” he asked, his voice soft, but with the clarity of someone who knew something wasn’t right.

You nodded, trying not to give too much importance to the whirlwind of thoughts forming in your head. You had been dealing with this silently for days, but now, while you were with Max, the doubts and feelings couldn’t be left behind. You decided it was time to face it, even though you didn’t know how he would react.

Just a few minutes later, your phone vibrated in your pocket, interrupting the peaceful walk. Looking at the screen, you saw Lando’s name and felt a pang in your stomach. With your pulse racing, you decided to open the message.

Lando: “I miss you. “I want to go back, I want things to be okay between us.”

A lump formed in your throat as you read the words. You knew he had been trying to reach you, that he still held out hope that things could be like they were before, but something inside you told you it was time to let him go. You knew you couldn’t keep fooling yourself, or Lando, or Max. Everyone’s paths had changed, and even though you had loved Lando at one time, everything seemed different now. The connection with Max was something you couldn’t ignore, a truth that had been growing between you and you could no longer deny it.

With shaking hands, you began typing out your reply. You didn’t want to do it over text, but at the same time, you knew it was the most direct and honest thing to do.

You: “Lando, I appreciate you so much, but we both know our lives are taking different paths. I don’t feel the same way I used to anymore. I’m spending time with Max now… things have changed, and I can’t move on with us. You know what you did and I did it to him.”

The phone stayed in your hands for a second, your heart pounding, and before you could regret it, you hit “send.” The relief was immediate, but it was also accompanied by a soft pain, like a wound that had been slowly closing, but was still bleeding.

It wasn’t even ten minutes before Lando replied to you. The tone of his text was clear: he was hurt, frustrated, and angry.

Lando: “So you’re with Max now, huh? I can’t believe it. I knew something was going on between you two, but this… This doesn’t just hurt me, it’s going to affect our image too. You’re breaking everything we built, everything we had.”

You read those words, and even though they hurt, you knew it was the right thing to do. You knew you couldn’t continue in something that no longer had a foundation, something that had worn away inside. But Lando’s words pierced you like an arrow, and in that moment, you knew it wasn’t going to be easy. Breaking up with him didn’t just mean letting go of a relationship, but also dealing with the consequences of the decisions you had made.

You took a deep breath, trying to stay calm, and with a firm voice, you answered, knowing that there could be no turning back.

You: “Don't blame me, you were the one who slept with another woman and let the paparazzi catch you. This is the best for both of us, we no longer love each other like we once did.”

As soon as you sent the message, the tension in the air increased. Max, who had been by your side all this time, watched your face with an expression that seemed to understand what had just happened, although without saying a word.

Lando quickly responded, this time with more anger and resentment.

Lando: “You're going to see what's going to happen now. You know that this relationship has given us both so much, but it seems that it means nothing to you. You've left me in the lurch, and now I'm forced to deal with the public image of all this, with everything we've built, just because of one bad decision. Don't call me ever again.”

His final message hit you harder than you expected. It was final closure, and even though deep down you knew you had done the right thing, a part of you felt the weight of the words he had just written. You couldn’t deny that things between you and Lando had changed, but the fury in his message made it clear to you that, at that moment, he couldn’t understand your decision.

Max, seeing that you were tense from the answer, put a hand on your shoulder, trying to comfort you.

“I’m sorry,” he said softly, “but you had no other choice. You deserve to be happy, and if that means moving on, then that’s what you have to do.”

You turned to him, grateful for his words. His understanding, his calm, was in complete contrast to the intensity of what you had just been through. Deep down in your heart you prayed that Lando wouldn’t do anything but you knew him, you knew how he got when he was angry and you were prepared to read your name and Max’s on the internet the next morning.

[thisgirlnamedblusy]

Hiiiii! Could you please write a fic where Donna takes reader to a lord’s meeting to help control Angie and Alcina and Karl start hitting on Reader to tease Donna, making Donna gettin really jealous so she ends up trying to state her claim on Reader by getting her pregnant. And if you’d like maybe Donna announcing to the Lord’s & Miranda that reader is pregnant and Karl & Karl teasing her about her jealousy?

Yesss!!!!! Thanks for your request!!! I hope you like it and sorry about the delay and the language mistakes!!! :))))

How to make you hers

Pairing: Donna Beneviento x Fem! Reader

Warnings: G!P Donna, smut, Minors DNI, slightly dark themes, dark Donna, jealousy...

Word count: 5,980

Summary: Maybe to go to that meeting wasn't a good idea...

N/A: Sorry about the language mistakes!!! Requests are open!!! I'm waiting yours!!! I love you all!!! :))

“Where are you?” You asked humming, walking slowly through the living room, looking for the Angie doll, like almost every afternoon.

Definitely, playing hide and seek with a possessed doll was not the strangest thing that had happened to you in the last few months, although it might seem that way.

It was even stranger when the village merchant, the Duke, hired you to be his assistant, arguing that you might have a future in the business world. How ironic, no one could have a future in that cursed village.

It was even stranger when your new job led you to meet the most authority figures, and emerge unscathed in the process. The few villagers who had the privilege of being close enough hadn't had much luck, and that included friends and acquaintances of yours.

And if something even stranger could happen, it was meeting one of those shadowy Lords, Donna Beneviento. She was a dark, sick and lonely woman, who saw your presence as a threat at first and little by little, as a necessity. Her shadowy figure, her hoarse voice, and the puppet she used to express her emotions were a combination of factors that also caught your attention.

But no, none of that was the strangest thing that had happened to you. The strangest, most extraordinary thing that had happened in your life was precisely finding yourself madly in love with the lady in black, almost as much as her, or even more. Those short meetings stopped being short, those talks stopped making no sense. Angie was no longer a speaker, but a complement.

Everything happened so quickly, but in such an intense way, that you soon forgot even to return home after visiting the old estate. There was a moment, the moment when that strange love materialized in the form of discovery, the moment when Donna lifted the black veil from her face so you could admire her beauty and throw her insecurities away, with your first kiss. At that moment you knew that you would no longer return to your old home.

Of course, you never forgot who you were kissing, who you were caressing. She was a Lord, a dangerous and terribly jealous woman. You couldn't blame her for being that way, not after knowing her past, her present, and not after wanting to be part of her future. That toxic possessiveness wasn't a problem for you. You understood her motives, although you had a hard time adjusting at first.

For Lady Beneviento you were a beam of light in the darkness, but also a new concern. Neither her scar nor her body was a reason for fear, for shame, not anymore. At the moment your lips expressed your love there was only one thing she feared, there was only one thing that made fear itself tremble, losing you.

“Come on... Come out of hiding... You've beaten me...” You sighed, tired of looking for the puppet all over the house.

Well, at least Angie had an easier time adjusting to your presence. The puppet had found in you an unbeatable playmate.

A nervous giggle reached your ears and formed an evil smile on your face, making you crouch down in front of one of the tables in the room, checking to see if the puppet was there.

“Ah!” You scream when a cold hand landed on your shoulder, causing you to jump and hit your head on the furniture in a comical way. When you stood up, rubbing the spot where you hit yourself, you realized who had scared you, Donna.

“Are you hurt?” She asked with that soft voice, the voice that betrayed the insane time she spent alone in her doll workshop. You smiled, like every time you saw that tender look, that fragility only you were capable of loving.

“No, I don't think so,” you said, playing it off, verifying that the blow was nothing else than that. “You’ve scared me.”

“I'm sorry,” Donna whispered, lowering her head, which you prevented by raising her chin with two fingers and leaning in to kiss her softly, which made the lady sigh in relief.

“Don't worry,” you whispered into her lips, turning them into a tender smile, accompanying that gesture of affection with a soft grip on her waist. “Are you finished with the dolls?”

The lady nodded, without erasing that splendid smile from her face, feeling comfortable in your embrace, exploring your skin with her hands in a curious way, as if she couldn't quite believe that you were there, that you loved her, that someone could loved her. .

“I have something for you,” she said, moving away from you a bit and handing you what looked like a golden chain with a medallion hanging from it, a small medallion with the symbol of House Beneviento. You took it with a grateful smile and examined it more closely. It was a beautiful necklace.

“Wow... It's so nice...” You whispered, running your fingers over the medallion. Her expression cooled a bit, betraying incipient concern.

“Don’t you like it?” She asked worriedly, to which you nodded profusely, putting that idea out of her head, hoping this time it wouldn't be as complicated as others.

“I love it, Donna. Come on, help me put it on,” you said amused, turning around and brushing your hair away from your neck.

The doll maker sighed again, wrapping her delicate hands around your neck and tying that little necklace where it belonged, slowly turning you around to admire the result.

“It suits you well, (Y/N)” the lady commented, observing you with that necklace on, with the silent symbol that made you hers.

“You suit me well...” You murmured with a seductive purr, drawing the woman a little closer to you, making her laugh nervously, her cheeks blushing.

It could have been one of those moments in which the silence of that sinister mansion was interrupted by gasps, by words of love, by the sounds of your passion, but it seemed that the phone resting on a table had other plans for you. The screeching sound of the device made you jerk away, making a disgusted face.

“Angie!” Donna called, making the puppet, the undisputed champion of hiding, come out of a dark corner of the room and walk comically towards the phone.

“I'm coming, I'm coming...” The doll sang. Donna's gaze was on that phone, although her hand remained in yours.

You sighed in frustration, but your touch calmed her nerves. The telephone was never a good sign at all.

“Beneviento house here, who is calling?” Angie said, grabbing the device and comically putting it on her head. “Oh, Mother Miranda…”

Donna tensed completely, not taking her eyes off her doll. Surely she would be listening to the priestess's words.

“Okay, see you later...” Angie hummed, hanging up the phone abruptly and getting off the table.

“What's wrong, honey?” You asked, seeing your lover's confused and worried expression. She let your hand go lazily.

“Mother Miranda calls us for a meeting,” the lady in black explained, walking away from you. You frowned and sighed, knowing that not even lust could fight against that.

“Meeting, meeting, meeting!” Angie screamed, making you cover your ears. “We can all play hide and seek together!”

“No, Angie, no one is going to play hide-and-seek,” Donna said, with a dry voice, showing how she didn’t wanted to go to that old cathedral and see the rest of her siblings.

“You boring thing!” The doll protested, making the lady turn around abruptly, surprised by this lack of respect from Angie.

“Hey, come on, tell her what she wants to hear and...” You whispered, putting a hand on her shoulder, calming her nerves with the heat of your caresses. “You know the way she is.”

Donna shook her head, chasing after her doll, which seemed to want to make fun of her, something she couldn't stand, something that made her too nervous.

“Come on, stay still,” the lady said frustrated, squeezing her hands tightly on either side of her hips. “Angie, please…”

“No! You're mean, Donna! You don’t want to play with me! You just want to play with her!” The doll screeched, pointing at you. The lady in black growled angrily, walking quickly towards the puppet.

“Maledizione… Angie!” The lady in black cursed, trying to snatch her black veil from Angie, an indispensable accessory when she left the safety of her home. You watched the scene helplessly, unable to do anything.

“I want (Y/N) to come with us!” The puppet ordered, making Donna stop and look at you slowly, studying that possibility.

“No, no way,” she said in a dark whisper, looking at you like blaming you for something.

“Well, I will run and run and I will not give you your veil!” Angie sang, running away from the lady again.

After a ridiculous chase and several well-founded threats from the doll, Donna agreed to her request and the three of you headed towards that horrible place.

You were used to the Lords, you knew them, but you had never seen them all together, together with Mother Miranda.

“Donna, dear, who is our guest?” The priestess asked when the two of you approached the altar, to that bird woman who gave you chills. You had your head bowed in respect, but her golden claws forced you to look into those cold eyes.

“(Y/N), Mother Miranda, this is my... My... My girlfriend,” Donna said, with an almost inaudible whisper, causing a sinister smile to form on the Goddess's face, looking at you curiously.

“Wow... I'm happy for you, dear, please take a seat,” she said, giving you a mysterious look, one that passed through your body. Donna took your hand and guided you to a chair next to hers.

“This place is so creepy...” You murmured, studying that ancient structure, with the lady's hand always in yours. She looked at you and nodded, unable to hide the trembling of her body, her own nerves.

“It won't last long, (Y/N), it's a routine meeting,” Donna explained through that horrible black veil. You nodded reluctantly, holding Angie, who was looking at you curiously.

Some steps that you already knew put you on alert. It was an elegant walk, one from another time, one that belonged to Alcina Dimitrescu, owner of the castle, and one of your first clients. You couldn't deny you showed some interest in her at first, but it went away when you met Donna.

“Well, well, well... What do we have here...” The tall woman said, walking slowly towards you. The sweaty hand that was squeezing yours started to hurt you. Donna was very nervous. “A little bird that has come out of her cage…”

“Lady Dimitrescu,” you murmured respectfully, lowering your head and earning a sinister smile from the lady in white.

“How daring are you, Donna, why do bring this delicious maid into my presence?” Alcina asked in a velvety voice, making the lady in black tense, shaking her head.

“She’s not a maid!” Angie screeched, nervous as her owner, or rather, speaking for her owner, who was breathing hard. You looked at her to calm her down, but she looked away, as if you had done something wrong. Going to that meeting was a bad idea.

“Isn’t she? And what is she? Your companion?” The lady in white asked with a mocking tone making angry even you.

“She's my girlfriend,” the doll said, jumping off your lap, facing that monstrous woman, something that made you smile.

“Oh, your girlfriend... I see...” The lady of the castle murmured, leaning towards you, making Donna stand up, dragging her chair with an unpleasant sound.

“Don't go close to her,” Donna hissed, in her own voice. Alcina looked at her and laughed softly, without stopping her actions, grabbing with one of her fingers the necklace that Donna had given you just an hour ago.

“Nice necklace, little bird...” She whispered, completely ignoring her sister's protests, which intensified by kicking the ground childishly.

“Thank you, my lady.” That was all you could say. Having that vampire so close made you very nervous, you couldn't help it.

“I see my sister appreciates you a lot, right?” She asked you, with that same seductive tone. “But tell me, (Y/N), does my poor little sister know how to appreciate you properly?”

“Basta,” Donna said, with a stronger voice, making the lady in white look at her out of the corner of her eye, but returning her gaze to you immediately.

“Come on, Donna, we're just talking, right?” Alcina said laughing softly, clearly mocking her, something that also made you burn. “I'm not going to eat her... Yet...” She whispered, making you clear your throat.

“She's mine,” the lady in black whispered, threatening again, making you have the most uncomfortable time of your life. Well, until then.

“Yes, yes, yes...” Alcina sighed, standing up again, making a gesture of contempt with her hands. “Maybe one day you would like to come to my castle and…”

“Hey, fat ass, leave the girl alone!” A male voice interrupted this mocking and uncomfortable conversation. You could have calmed down, but quite the opposite. The voice belonged to Karl Heisenberg, one of the Lords, according to Donna, the most dangerous.

“Oh, it's you...” The vampire sighed, listlessly, ignoring the metallic man. “Haven't they told you that you shouldn't interrupt a ladies’ conversation?”

“I didn't know you were a lady,” he replied, mockingly, as always, pushing the large lady aside and leaning comically on the back of your chair, blowing the smoke from his cigar at you in an unpleasant way.

“You stupid vermin...” Dimitrescu protested, to which Karl laughed amused, looking at you over his glasses.

“(Y/N), I'm glad to see you, my friend,” he told you, ignoring the vampire's fury, involuntarily shaking your hand. “It's good to know that Donna took you out for a walk.”

“I'm not a dog,” you protested for that derogatory comment, looking at the lady in black, who seemed calmer due to the presence of her brother.

“Oh, I didn't say such a thing...” He said, amused, shaking his head. “I have to congratulate you on the pieces you brought me last week, they were of amazing quality,” he commented.

You sighed to be able to relax after that huge amount of insinuations from the lady of the castle. But that tranquility would not last long.

“You should congratulate the Duke, I only make the deliveries,” you said, crossing your legs and arms, looking for Angie, who apparently had gone to greet Moreau.

“And also for having an assistant as beautiful as you,” he whispered, leaning into your ear, making you blush, closing your eyes knowing that Donna was nervous again, although she didn't show it as much as before.

“Wow, thanks for the compliment,” you said amused, knowing that at least with him, you could joke. Deep down, you liked him.

Karl nodded with a sinister smile, looking at the lady in black and leaning into your ear again.

“Just a question, just for the two of us… Is Donna as big as they say?” He asked, making you choke and open your eyes at that unpleasant question. Of course, the lady in black heard it, and she rose from her chair again, her knuckles white from the pressure she put on her fists.

“I'm not going to answer that,” you said, always monitoring Donna's posture and her breathing.

“There is no need to do it,” Karl said, leaning more comfortably on your chair. “They say that comparisons are hateful, but perhaps you would like to see it for yourself. I feel so alone in that factory...” He whispered, making your stomach turn.

“Stai zitto, cazzo!” The lady in black screamed, abruptly pushing the Lord, who laughed amused by that reaction. You stood up too, trying to calm the situation, which was already unbearably tense. “Porca puttana! Ti ucciderò!”

“Hey, hey, come on, calm down, little sister, I was just joking,” Karl said, avoiding the pushes of his sister, who was increasingly furious.

“Donna, calm down, nothing's wrong,” you said, grabbing your girlfriend by the waist, preventing her from hitting her brother, who seemed to be having fun at her expense. “Come on, stay still, calm down…”

“What have you done to my Donna, stupid, stupid?!” Angie screamed, joining that strange fight. “Let her go, (Y/N), let her give him what he deserves!”

“Silence!” A voice bounced off the walls. Apparently the priestess had enough, and you couldn't help but thank her. “Have you finished torturing poor Donna?”

“Oh, come on, we were joking,” Heisenberg protested, adjusting his coat while you sat your girlfriend back in her chair.

“You're like children,” Miranda hissed, shaking her head and walking towards you, placing a golden hand on the shoulder of the lady in black. “Are you okay, dear?”

The lady took a while to respond, but she finally nodded, holding your hands tightly while you whispered nice things to calm her down. Miranda looked at you out of the corner of her eye, with a strange smile.

“You're good at it, (Y/N),” she whispered, seeing that your actions had an effect on the brunette. “It seems that I can entrust my little daughter to you without fear.”

“Of course, Mother Miranda,” you said, calming your girlfriend's sobs, which little by little stopped being so intense.

“Good,” the blonde said dryly, moving away from you and spreading her wings to start the meeting and thus end that hell.

The meeting went off without a hitch. Things seemed to have calmed down, but it didn't take you long to realize that it was just an illusion. As if you had gone back several months in the past, Donna was quiet, completely silent, holding your hand, almost dragging you back towards the mansion. Not even Angie dared to say anything.

“Hey, my love...” You said softly, removing the black cloth from her face, revealing a furious, resentful look. “Forget it, okay? They were just joking.”

Your caress on her cheek was brushed away sharply. That harsh expression remained on her face, as if she deeply hated you for something you weren't guilty of.

“Don't touch me,” she hissed, pushing you, leaving you completely stunned.

“Donna...” You sighed, already used to those crises of jealousy, which her cruel brothers made more complicated. “Come on, don't be angry with me, I haven't done anything.”

“Haven’t you?” She asked. “Haven’t you done anything?”

“Of course I haven’t, they were the ones who...” You said with a more serious tone, not willing to apologize for something that was not your fault at all.

“You were delighted,” she interrupted, between clenched teeth, approaching you with a dangerous step.

“Well, who doesn't like to feel desired?” You said amused, thinking that humor was the best option. You were wrong.

“You like it too much, (Y/N)... You enjoy it...” Donna accused you, with that eye shining with tears, red with hatred and her deranged possessiveness.

“I can't enjoy it if it hurts you, Donna, don't you understand?” You defended yourself, putting your hands on her shoulders, preventing her from moving them away again.

“You don't understand that you are mine?” She asked back, making you sigh. No, you didn't like that term, at least outside of the bedroom.

“It's not my fault that your siblings were behaving that way,” you said in a more annoyed tone, with anger beginning to course through your veins.

“You're right...” She sighed, calming down mysteriously quickly, taking your hands and swinging them next to hers, as if she were turning something over in her head.

You, still alert, leaned towards her, kissing her quickly, thinking that a kiss from your lips would be the medicine she needed for her jealousy.

“I love you, Donna... I don't like to say it but... I'm yours, you know it, I know it. Nothing in this world will change my mind. I don't love anyone else, I don't want anyone else. Do you understand, my love?”

“Don't you like to say you're mine?” She asked, offended again by your words. “Then you don't like being so.”

You, sighing cupping her face in your hands, holding her gaze steady, ready to say whatever it took to make her calm down. Yes, you may not have liked the term, but the reality is that you were hers, and you always would be, you wanted to be hers.

“You're not understanding me, darling...” You said softly, brushing a strand of black hair away from her face, making her eye only look at you. “I like being yours, I want to be yours... It's just that... Well, I don't like feeling like an object.”

“You are not an object, you are my girlfriend,” she said, hardening her expression even more, but with a calmer tone. A shy smile appeared on your face as you nodded.

“You see? That's much better,” you said, kissing her gently again, noticing how her body relaxed with your caresses, with your selfless affection, something that none of them would ever have, and you would do anything to show it to her.

“Only mine,” she whispered, moving away from your lips, resting her forehead against yours, grabbing your face in an intense, desperate way.

“Yes, darling, only yours...” You repeated, wiping away a tear that was running down her cheek.

It seemed like everything was resolved, but Donna pulled away again, running a hand through her hair, shaking her head.

“No, it's not enough...” She murmured. “Your word is of no use to me…”

“Donna...” You sighed, frustrated at not being able to make her reason. “Come on, trust me.”

“I trust you,” she responded abruptly, with sincerity in her eye, which made you frown, confused. “But not them.”

“Well, that's normal,” you said amused, with a soft, comforting tone, approaching her again, caressing her trembling hand. When she raised her head to look at you, a different glow appeared in her eye, a strange one, one that you couldn't interpret.

“I have to... I have to do something... I have to show them that... That, that you are mine...” Donna murmured. She wasn't talking to you. She was talking to herself, which made you listen carefully to her ramblings to know what was on her mind.

“You show it by being by my side, giving me your affection in front of them... There is nothing else you can do to show that I only love you. You have to learn to trust me and...”

“You're wrong,” she interrupted you, changing her expression again. “There is something I can do…”

“What?” You asked curious. Donna wanted to respond, but she didn't, she just shook her head and took your hand, dragging you towards the living room. “Donna, what are you doing? What's wrong? You’re hurting me...”

Horrified by her impulsiveness, she let your sore wrist go, but the strange glint in her eye told you she was far from calming down.

“There is a way…” She whispered, grabbing you more gently this time, guiding you towards the dining room table. “A way to make them see that you are mine…”

“Okay, tell me what you are thinking,” you said in a calm tone, but with your body trembling from ignorance. It wouldn't take you long to realize her intentions, but at that moment you were completely lost.

“It won't do any good to say it. It's better... To let me doing it...” Donna whispered in your ear, biting your earlobe, forming a strange smile on your face due to that attack of sensuality. “I'm sorry, but you can't stop me, I have to do it or I will be consumed by my jealousy... I need to feel you mine, to claim you...”

“Donna, if you tell me what you're thinking...” You said, stopping talking when her hand went down your leg, getting under your dress, scratching your skin while her mouth covered you with kisses, preventing you from speaking or protesting...

“Silence, let me love you, (Y/N)” she protested, climbing you onto the table with excessive strength, placing herself between your legs and mercilessly attacking every exposed corner of your skin.

Faced with this change in circumstances, you decided to let yourself be carried away by that intense passion, by the fieryness with which her body claimed yours in such a sudden but strange way. It wasn't a slow moment, just small, innocent kisses.

No, Donna was wild, her kisses were messy and her hands played with the fabric of your underwear, thus showing her rush to have you, to take you right there, without thinking about the consequences.

“Donna...” You moaned at her soft touch, at the breeze you felt between your legs as you were freed from the article of clothing that was already beginning to get damp.

Her hips collided with yours in a sensual and fiery dance, her already noticeable erection rubbed against your body uninhibited by desire, by that sudden passion.

“Make me yours, my love...” You whispered tenderly, making her smile, releasing her trembling shaft, slowly placing it at your ready entrance.

“Don't doubt that I will, (Y/N), you will be mine forever, and we will be so happy... You'll see...” She murmured, giving your body the time to adjust to that intrusion, to the tip stretching your humidity slowly, but without wanting to withdraw.

Despite the strangeness of those words, you couldn't feel nothing but pleasure. Poor Heisenberg, surely the comparisons were hateful, hateful for him.

“Slow down, my love... It's so hard... So big... I love it,” you said, controlling your breathing, letting her erection slide completely inside you, with the ease that your excitement allowed.

Donna shook her head, gently grabbing your legs, spreading them a little more so she could move inside you better, something that made her moan, that made you moan. Her movements, although they betrayed an unusual haste, always tried to give you as much pleasure as possible, to make you see the stars, to make you swear and curse with pleasure, to make your hips move to adapt to her movements.

After a few thrusts, only accompanied by desperate moans and hungry gasps, you began to feel your body tense, preparing to release. Donna didn't seem to be far from it, but, unlike other times, her eye remained open, looking directly at you, checking the pleasure she was capable of giving you.

“I'm so close, my love... You're so good... You move so well,” you said, moving a hand to caress her cheek, a gesture that made her sigh in comfort before moaning at the wet embrace that your walls gave her as they contracted a bit.

“That's it, (Y/N), release yourself for me and I will do the same, I will claim you...” She said, her voice breaking from the intensity of her movements.

There was definitely something off about her, but your orgasm hit you before you could realize it, forcing you to arch your back and throw yourself into her arms, hanging onto her neck as her thrusts slowed.

“Good girl...” The doll maker whispered pleased by your movements, moving you away from her and lying you on the table. She grabbed your hips tightly, revealing the desire to release herself.

“You're so excited...” You said amused, moaning again as your body recovered from its release. “Watch out, okay? Try to do it out.”

Donna stopped and a sinister smile spread across her face as she shook her head.

“No, tesoro, I'm not going out. I’m going to do it inside... I'm going to get you pregnant so everyone will know that you're mine, mine forever...” Donna murmured, slowing her movements, making you sit up at those words, scared.

“What? Donna, wait…” You said when her movements resumed. Yes, that was her purpose, that was the way she would claim you. You didn't want it, but you didn't feel the need to run away or turn away either. After all, you always wanted to start a family. “This is very hasty…”

“I'm not going to wait. You will have my child, you will carry it in your womb and then we will be... A family...” She said with a whimper, unable to control her movements and words at the same time, just at the moment in which an agonized moan left her lips, making you feeling filled with her warmth, a sensation that you didn’t know, but from that moment on, you began to desire.

Your body accepted that release, writhing with pleasure as that wet, lascivious caress ran through you. You had never felt anything like that and desire and pleasure clouded your judgment, forgetting for a moment what your lover's purpose was.

“Donna... My love...” You said, your voice distorted by pleasure and worry, stroking her hair as she collapsed on top of your body, not wanting to leave you, not wanting to stop claiming you as she sobbed, surely regretting her abrupt attitude.

4 months later…

“Phone, phone!” Angie's squeaky voice was like a drill in your ears, waking you up from another of your countless naps.

“For Gods’ sake, Angie, don't yell,” you protested, sitting on the couch, sighing, with one hand on your already bulging belly.

“Don't scream, don't scream... You fat ass!” The doll mocked you, making you grit your teeth.

“I'm not fat, I'm pregnant. How should I tell you?” You said, ignoring the sound of the phone and getting up yourself to pick it up.

“Excuses...” Angie protested, making you roll your eyes and put your hand on the device, a hand that was stopped by a pale and soft one, Donna.

“Don't worry, tesoro,” she told you softly, with a reassuring smile. You kissed her softly and withdrew, pushing the doll away from your place abruptly and looking for a comfortable position, something complicated in your state.

“It’s a boy or a girl?” Angie asked, watching how you caressed your belly, while Donna responded to that call, which gave you very bad feelings.

“I've already told you that we don't know,” you said, irritable due to the pregnancy, but excited, much more excited than you thought.

“I hope it's a girl,” Angie said, when Donna hung up the phone and approached slowly, sitting next to you.

“What if it's a boy?” You asked amused, feeling more comfortable with your girlfriend by your side.

“I don't know, I guess you can make more babies, right?” The puppet answered. You laughed, eyes widening when you felt a strange movement.

“Donna, look...” You said excitedly, taking the lady in black's hand to your belly, making her feel those same movements.

“It's... Incredible,” she murmured, amazed by the movements of her child in your womb, by feeling that life the two of you had created in a strange, but lovely way.

“Yes, it is...” You whispered, enjoying that little moment for you, the beginning of that new family. “Donna.”

“Mm?” She murmured, hypnotized by her child, barely paying attention to you.

“The call, who was it?” You asked amused, making the lady wake up from her dream and look at you confused.

“Oh, yes, well... Miranda wants us to meet,” she commented with a relaxed voice, looking at you with a strange smile, which indicated she was going to ask you for something. “I would like you to come with me, you know, so everyone knows that…”

“Donna...” You protested, crossing your arms. “We have already talked about jealousy.”

“Please, I'm begging you, let me be proud of you in front of them...” She said, putting her hands together in a comical way. You had no choice but to nod.

The way was much calmer. As disturbing as it was that Donna thought a child would be the solution to her jealousy, in the end it didn't turn out to be a bad idea at all. Your pregnancy made the lady in black calm down in a surprising way, and she barely suffered crises or nightmares.

“Wow, (Y/N), I see you’re... Fine,” the priestess commented, clearly noticing the bulge in your dress. You lowered your head and bowed as a sign of respect.

“I'm better than ever, Mother Miranda,” you responded respectfully, not daring to look into those gray and dangerous eyes. She nodded, looking at Donna in a teasing but strangely loving way.

“I see... Congratulations, dear...” Miranda whispered, wrapping her arms around the lady in black, who nodded excitedly, whispering something in the witch's ear, to which the blonde nodded indicating for you to sit down.

It didn't take long for the other Lords to appear, as well as their mocking and sinister smiles, which were automatically directed towards you.

“What do my eyes are seeing...” Alcina whispered, approaching elegantly, swinging her hips sensually. You automatically put your hands on your belly, protecting it from a non-existent danger. “Little bird, you look so beautiful…”

Donna looked at her, but she didn't say anything, she seemed surprisingly calm. You nodded, grateful for the compliment, and because, after that comment and a fleeting glance at your belly, the lady in white retired to her seat.

Heisenberg, on the other hand, didn't approach you. He simply winked at you, making you shiver.

“Well, my dears, before we start, I think Donna has something to say,” Miranda commented, pleased cause that time there was no arguments or fights.

The lady in black stood up slowly, taking your hand so you could do the same. You were nervous, especially because all those evil eyes landed on you immediately.

“I just want to say that as you may have noticed, (Y/N) is pregnant. I wanted you to know before you tried to lay a finger on her,” Angie said, speaking for her owner, who was looking at you through her veil.

“Wow, and I thought you were eating too much pasta...” Heisenberg commented, amused, making Donna squeeze your hand tightly making you hiss in pain.

“You are a wild animal,” Alcina commented, despising her brother and looking back at you. “Congratulations, dears.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Karl said, standing up comically. “The kid's issue isn't because of the teasing that afternoon, right?”

Donna didn't respond, nor did Angie. Certainly, he was the most dangerous, he was tremendously intelligent.

“Oh, is that true, dear?” Alcina asked, showing her great height as she stood up. “Please, you can't be so naive, Donna. We were messing with you a bit.”

“I don't like being laughed at,” the lady in black protested, kicking the ground childishly, making you relax her again with your caresses.

“You make it very easy for us, Donna,” Heisenberg added. “Look at you. You are going to be a mother just for us to know we cannot touch your girl.”

“Shut up,” Angie protested, with an unpleasant squeak.

“I'm sure it will be a beautiful girl...” Alcina murmured, leaving the teasing aside for once. She looked like she was genuinely happy and that reassured you.

“You have no idea, Dracula, it will be a boy and I will take care of him, he needs a babysitter...” Karl said, making you smile, shaking your head.

“Don't even come close to my child, bastardo,” Donna threatened, making the Lord laugh harder.

“What? It’s my nephew,” he said, raising his eyebrows and looking at you over his glasses. You rolled your eyes, and dragged Donna back to the chair so she wouldn't get into the conflict again.

Well, at least the teasing is over, teasing that caused your future to change abruptly. You didn't blame Donna for doing it that way, you couldn't do it. She was fragile, weak, and afraid, afraid of losing you.

What she didn't know is that she would never lose you. She would never lose her family.

[creativewritersposts]

introverted - Luke Hughes

summary; Luke Hughes x reader

You know him for years over the internet. But when you meet him in person, he acts awkward and uncomfortable. It's a big step for an introverted guy. Can you handle it?

warning(s); FLUFF!!, mentions of insecurity, maybe grammar errors

author's note; hi you wonderful people out there! Hope you're all okay✨

--------------------------------------------------------------

Luke Hughes is everything.

He's awkward, he's a good player and wraps every girl around his finger even when he looks like a zombie, because he stayed awake too long last night to watch the new movie.

"-so he told me I'm boring-", you spill him the tea on FaceTime, talking about the boy you really liked and ghosted you. "He's wrong", Luke smiles in his camera, looking comfortable. It's something you learned about Luke- he's very shy and uncomfortable when he doesn't know people. It's weird how you became friends, - somehow. You're living one continent apart but your connection went good and never had problems to talk with each other. "well I have something to talk about", Luke speaks out and looks away from his display, you nod. "I booked you a ticket. I know you're having your summer vacation next week and being alone at home so you can join us in Michigan", his shy side shows again.

"MICHIGAN?", you squeak under panic. "yeah", he chuckles and looks insecure, thinking if it was the best idea. "Like Michigan with your parents, siblings?", you follow up. "Yeah", he smiles. "i told you not to pay things for me!", you warn him, "take it as an early birthday present ", he argues back. "my birthday is in december!", you roll your eyes, "ok, see you in Michigan!".

Here you are, with all your bags at the airport, searching for Luke. Or a nice sandwich, you're hungry. "Hey!", Luke waves awkwardly at you, coming closer, until he gives you the hand. "Luke", you raise your eyebrows, "we're friends for three years now, gimme a hug!", you hug him because he could say something against it. "I'm sorry but Jack is the driver", he warns you, talking a bag over his shoulder. Jack leans on the car door with sunglasses on, "hi", he hugs you without asking, driving to the lake house. "Mom cooked a lot of food, hope you're hungry", Jack eyes meeting yours, Luke just smiles. "sure, can I sit next to Luke?", you ask Jack. You're here because you want to spend time with him. "I'll not interrupt you lovebirds", he laughs and walks in front of you both. "Are you ok with sitting next to me?", Luke leans over to your ear, whispering these words. "sure, Lucky Luke", you smile at him. His cheeks are blushing. After meeting the whole family you ate dinner, but Luke looks very uncomfortable next to you. Barely talking. He avoids you for three days now, you try to get along with the family but you want to talk to him. You're here because of him.

"Luke?", you ask him, when you finally found a moment in piece with him. "hm?", he smiles.

"Do you want me to leave?", you speak out your worries. "no!", he shakes his head, "I am just very shy, ok? I need my time to feel comfortable", his ears getting red. Your body feels like under electricity, you're more extroverted and never thought he feels that way. "Sure, don't worry", you smile respectfully and leave the room. "Ohh trouble in paradise?", Jack asks you with his girlfriend under his left arm sleeping. "No, it's just too much", you sit down on a camping chair. "did he say something silly? He talked about meeting you nonstop in New Jersey", he focuses on your emotions. "He avoids me for three days and i asked him if i should leave. He told me he's shy and feels uncomfortable", you blame yourself. "sounds like Lukey", he nods understandable. "It's not your fault. After a few days he's the most annoying person ever, trust me", he huffs playfully with a small grin. "what can I do?", you ask him for advice. "He loves movie nights. Ask him to do that?", he thinks about his little weird ass brother.

"I don't want him to feel uncomfortable!", you worry. Jack nods and lays his girlfriends head on the lounger without waking her up.

"Luke!", Jack steps into the house, standing in front of his younger, taller brother. "you told me about this new movie, can you remember?", you join with them. "Yeah, it's a sequel from Harry Potter ", he nods friendly. "your best friend has no plans this night so you can watch it with her", he points with his finger at you, to stop miscommunication. "uhm-", Luke's voice cracks. "If you say no I'll watch it with her", he looms. "you have a girlfriend!?", you think out loud, both turn their bodies in your direction, "I can handle two women", Jack gets sassy. "okay, after dinner", Luke plays with his fingers.

Time flew away. Now you're sitting in Luke's bed, you can smell his cologne and waiting with snacks. "ok I'm ready", Luke comes in and smiles softly, but very nervous. "What are you wearing?", he blushes again, "a pyjama", you laugh. "uhm.. without bra?", he mudders. "Who knows", you mock him. You're laying both in his bed, you can feel how your eyes feel heavy, you yawn after a while. "Can i lay down on your chest?", you ask. His bed is like wood under your body, it's definitely not comfortable. "Sure", he's distracted with watching the movie, petting your hair without thinking much until he hears your softly snores. "sleep well", he kisses your cheek, wrapping his arm around you in the comfortable way and sleeps in, too.

The next morning you wake up from voices around you, "mom take a picture!", jack stresses. "Jack stop being so annoying in the morning!", she tells him, "they're kinda cute together", he whispers. And you close your eyes again.

[callmedaleelah]

— Pinnacle [ tsukishima kei university au series ]

— you taught me secret language you know i can’t speak with anyone else ; don’t let your self-doubts and insecurities win or else you’ll not going anywhere

author’s notes : no mention of (y/n), written in second person pov, semi alternative universe, timeskip!tsukishima, college life, not proofread, english is not my first language

[ masterlist ] | [ ask daleelah go to box box 🐭 ]

It’s been four days. And you couldn’t shake the embarrassment from your last interaction with Tsukishima. Confessing your feelings to him that night, sitting together in his car as he celebrated your birthday—just the two of you with muffins and a simple bracelet gift—felt like a mistake now. The memory haunted you, the weight of your words and the silence that followed too overwhelming to face.

So, you did what you thought was best: you shut him out, distancing yourself in every way possible. You even archived his chat on your phone. Out of sight, out of mind. The thought of seeing his name sent your heart into overdrive, and you couldn’t afford distractions, not when you were already drowning in assignments. It was easier to pretend he didn’t exist, to focus solely on your work, but it wasn’t sustainable.

Your assignments had become your life. The deadlines, the stress—they consumed you. You threw yourself into your studies to the point of exhaustion, trying desperately to escape the lingering thoughts of him. It was easier this way. Easier to lose yourself in the endless tasks than to deal with the complicated mess of feelings you didn’t know how to untangle.

Still, there were moments when you couldn’t help but remember how he used to help you. Tsukishima would explain things in a way that made everything seem so simple, without the frustration or pressure that usually came with your academic struggles. He’d lend you his old notes, give you study references, and somehow, just knowing he was there made things less stressful. But now, those memories were just a painful reminder of how much you missed his presence—his calm, straightforward way of teaching that made everything feel less chaotic.

But missing him didn’t mean you were ready to face him again. Not yet.

Tsukishima had noticed the shift in your behavior almost immediately. The night you confessed your feelings to him in the car, when he celebrated your birthday privately. You were so vulnerable, admitting how you felt, and all he did was sit there in stunned silence. No words of comfort, no response. He just shifted silently, unable to process it in the moment.

He regretted it now—every second of it. The way he just let the moment slip by without saying anything, how his silence had caused this distance between you two. He didn’t mean to hurt you. The truth was, he hadn’t been expecting the confession. It caught him off guard, and instead of addressing it like he should have, he shut down. Now, that silence was haunting him.

Every time he pulled out his phone to message you, he hesitated. His fingers would hover over the screen, typing out a few words before deleting them again. What was he supposed to say? Hey, why are you avoiding me? It sounded accusatory in his mind, like he was placing blame. But that wasn’t it. He didn’t want to push you away further.

He’d already sent a couple of messages, simple ones—checking in, asking if you wanted to study together or meet up for lunch—but every time, he was met with silence. No response. It was like you had vanished. He even thought about messaging Yamaguchi to ask if he had noticed anything different, but that felt like a step too far. He didn’t want to seem like he was overthinking things.

It wasn’t just about the confession anymore—it was about how he missed you. He missed your presence, your questions, the way you’d show up stressed with assignments, and he’d offer to help. He missed being the one to simplify things for you, to lend you his old notes and references. It was a strange kind of absence, one that gnawed at him more than he cared to admit.

Tsukishima found himself lingering in places where he knew you’d pass by—near the class hall, at the library, even by the volleyball court—hoping for a chance encounter, hoping for the opportunity to casually start a conversation. But every time he saw you, you’d turn the other way, or walk faster, or pretend to be engrossed in something else.

And that stung. More than he expected.

One night, as he sat alone in his apartment, his phone resting on the table in front of him, Tsukishima stared at your contact. The chat was quiet, no new messages. He felt the weight of the silence, the kind that crept into the spaces between his thoughts and made him restless. He wanted to send you another message, but what could he say that he hadn’t already?

Finally, he picked up his phone, taking a deep breath before typing out something simple, something that wouldn’t seem too desperate.

Hey, I haven’t seen you around lately. Everything okay?

He hit send before he could overthink it, before the nagging voice in his head could convince him otherwise.

But again, there was no response. No ‘read’ notification, nothing.

For the first time in a long time, Tsukishima felt uncertain. He wasn’t used to feeling like this—like he was waiting on something beyond his control. And it unsettled him.

He leaned back against the couch, running a hand through his hair in frustration. This wasn’t how things were supposed to go. He wasn’t supposed to care this much. But here he was, sitting in his quiet apartment, wondering why the silence between you felt so loud.

---

Tsukishima and Yamaguchi had just finished volleyball practice, the cool evening air brushing against their skin as they exited the gym. They were chatting casually about their next tournament, already making plans to grab snacks at the culinary festival. The smell of grilled food was enticing, and Yamaguchi was in high spirits, talking about the strawberry tanghulu he was craving.

As they turned a corner in the hallway, a sudden collision interrupted their conversation. Papers flew everywhere, scattering across the floor like fallen leaves in autumn. The three of them froze for a second, momentarily stunned by the abruptness of the accident.

You were kneeling on the ground, hurriedly gathering your scattered notes, mumbling an apology under your breath. “I’m so sorry, it was my bad—”

Yamaguchi, always quick to help, was the first to kneel down, reaching for your papers. “No, it’s okay. We weren’t paying attention either,” he said, offering you a kind smile as he handed over the documents he had gathered. Tsukishima followed suit, quietly picking up a few stray papers, though he paused when he realized that you still hadn’t noticed who you had bumped into.

You kept your gaze lowered, focused on reorganizing your papers, as if determined to avoid meeting anyone’s eyes. “Thanks,” you mumbled, taking the stack from Tsukishima’s outstretched hand, not even looking up at him.

For a moment, he stood there, his hand lingering in the air. Your voice had been quiet—almost too quiet. Tsukishima’s expression was unreadable, but his eyes lingered on you, searching for something in your demeanor. You were more flustered than usual, your movements rushed, as if you were eager to flee from the scene.

“I gotta go. Thanks for your help,” you said quickly, pushing the papers into your bag. Your voice was strained, and before either of them could say anything more, you straightened up and took a step back.

But Yamaguchi wasn’t ready to let you leave so easily. “Hey, wait,” he called after you, his tone light and inviting. “Do you want to grab some snacks with us? There’s a culinary festival at Hall B. They’ve got all sorts of good stuff.”

You stopped in your tracks, hesitating for a moment. Tsukishima noticed the way your shoulders stiffened, your hand clutching your bag tightly. Slowly, you turned to look at Yamaguchi, and then, reluctantly, your eyes shifted to meet Tsukishima’s gaze. His expression was sharp, intense, as if he were waiting for something—anything—from you.

Your heart clenched in your chest. The memory of that night in the car came flooding back—the night you confessed, laying your feelings bare, and all you received in return was his silence. The hurt you felt then rose to the surface now, simmering beneath your skin. You couldn’t stand the way he looked at you, the same cold, unreadable expression. You blinked a few times, trying to push the emotions down, but the frustration bubbled up, filling you with a sudden rush of anger.

“I… I have something to do, unfortunately. Sorry, maybe next time,” you stammered, your voice a little too stiff, the smile you forced onto your lips weak and fleeting. Without waiting for their response, you turned on your heel and walked away, your pace quickening with every step.

Tsukishima’s gaze followed you until you disappeared around the corner. His fists clenched at his sides, a quiet frustration settling over him. He didn’t like the way you had avoided his eyes, the way you had brushed off Yamaguchi’s invitation, but what bothered him most was the tiredness he saw in you. You looked worn out, emotionally drained, and it struck something deep inside him—a protective instinct he wasn’t used to feeling.

Yamaguchi let out a confused hum, frowning slightly as he watched you leave. “What’s up with her?” he mumbled under his breath, turning to Tsukishima. “She didn’t even look at you… that’s not like her, is it?”

Tsukishima pushed his glasses up, trying to mask his own unease. “She said she has something to do.”

“Yeah, but she seemed… different,” Yamaguchi pressed, his brow furrowing. “It’s not like she’s close to me or anything, but she usually doesn’t act like that. She’s always polite and thoughtful. I don’t know, it just felt off.”

Tsukishima didn’t respond immediately, but the tightness in his chest hadn’t eased. He hated how helpless he felt right now, how every part of him wanted to chase after you and explain himself—but he couldn’t bring himself to move. You had your reasons for leaving, and he wasn’t about to make things worse by pushing you when you clearly didn’t want to be around him.

After a moment of silence, Yamaguchi spoke again, this time his tone softer. “Did something happen between you two?”

Tsukishima tensed at the question, his shoulders stiffening. He didn’t expect Yamaguchi to be so direct, but the concern in his friend’s voice left no room for dodging the truth.

With a heavy sigh, Tsukishima relented. “Yeah… something happened.”

Yamaguchi’s eyes widened slightly in surprise but he remained quiet, waiting for Tsukishima to continue.

Tsukishima hesitated for a moment before explaining what had happened in the car that night. He told Yamaguchi about your confession—how you’d poured your heart out to him, and how, in the heat of the moment, he hadn’t known what to say. The weight of his silence, and how it had clearly affected you since.

Yamaguchi groaned loudly, shaking his head in disbelief. “Tsukki… why didn’t you say anything?!”

“I wanted to,” Tsukishima muttered, his voice edged with frustration. “But she ran away before I could even process what she said.”

“Ran away?” Yamaguchi raised an eyebrow, biting into his strawberry tanghulu. “You’ve been an athlete since high school, Tsukki. Don’t tell me you couldn’t catch up with her.”

Silence hung between them for a moment, and Tsukishima sighed deeply. His gaze shifted downward, lost in thought. “It’s not that simple. I mean, I know I’m interested in her. She’s been on my mind more than anyone else… and after what happened with that drunk guy in the park, I just—” He paused, the memory of that night flaring up, the fear he felt seeing you in danger.

Yamaguchi looked at him, a knowing expression crossing his face. “You love her, Tsukki.”

Tsukishima groaned again, rubbing the back of his neck in frustration. “She’s only 20. What if she’s just confused about her feelings? I don’t want to be that jerk who takes advantage of someone who isn’t sure.”

Yamaguchi’s expression softened, and he let out a deep sigh. “I get that, but maybe you’re overthinking this. If she confessed to you, it means she’s thought about it.”

Tsukishima’s expression didn’t change. “Her mom controls so much of her life. She hasn’t even had the chance to figure out what she really wants. I don’t want to get in the way of that… she deserves more than being tied down by someone like me.”

Yamaguchi looked at him incredulously. “Now that doesn’t sound like you at all. Since when did you let anything stop you from getting what you want?”

—-

You sat nestled between the library bookshelves, your legs folded beneath you, your head resting wearily on your arms. The pressure of your biochemistry assignment had drained you, particularly the report on Protein Biochemistry—analyzing enzyme kinetics and purifying a specific protein. You had to design the experimental process for extracting, purifying, and characterizing a recombinant protein, including interpreting results from chromatography, electrophoresis, and spectrophotometry. The sheer volume of data, graphs, and analysis overwhelmed you, and after hours of staring at equations and assay results, your body gave in.

Your papers had spilled out around you, strewn on the floor, as your mind drifted off—not into sleep, but something close enough. Earphones were still in your ears, faint music playing, trying to provide a sense of calm that the stress had stolen from you. You had only meant to rest your eyes for a minute. Yet, here you were, curled up and barely holding it together in the dim light of the library.

Suddenly, the sound of footsteps on the library's quiet floor snapped you from the haze. It wasn't deep sleep—you had only let your eyes close momentarily—but it was enough to make the sound of someone nearby feel like an intrusion. You heard the soft rustle of paper, and when you blinked your eyes open, you saw Tsukishima crouching beside you, one of your crumpled assignment pages in his hands.

"Are you gonna sleep here?" His voice was soft, laced with sarcasm, but somehow not as cutting as usual.

Your eyes widened slightly, startled by his presence, but you quickly collected yourself. With a silent nod of thanks, you gently took the paper from his hand, avoiding his gaze as you gathered the rest of your scattered work. You could feel his eyes on you, watching as you stuffed everything haphazardly into your bag. You didn’t want him to see the state you were in—exhausted, frustrated, and on the brink of breaking down from the weight of the assignment. It was easier to avoid him than to admit how much his presence affected you lately.

You stood up, checking your phone: 7 PM. Five hours had passed since you first sat down to tackle your work, and the time had flown by in a blur of confusion and growing anxiety. Your back ached from sitting in the same position for too long, and you stifled a groan as you slung your heavy backpack over your shoulder.

Tsukishima let out a small sigh as you brushed past him, clearly annoyed that you were still avoiding him. He stood up beside you and followed as you began walking toward the exit of the library.

After a few moments, you noticed him still walking next to you, matching your pace, and before you could ask why, he handed you a bottle of water. The gesture caught you off guard.

You hesitated, but then you mumbled, “Thanks,” as you took the bottle from his hand. You hadn't realized just how thirsty you were until now, the dryness in your throat suddenly impossible to ignore. You took a long sip, your steps continuing in silence beside him.

It wasn’t until you had nearly reached the library doors that Tsukishima finally spoke again. "I want to talk to you," he said, his voice a little firmer this time.

"About what?" you asked, your tone clipped as you kept your eyes ahead, unwilling to look at him directly.

"You know what," he said, the irritation creeping into his voice. You could tell that your avoidance had worn him down, and his patience was running thin.

That anger that had been bubbling beneath your exhaustion finally surfaced. You stopped walking, turning to face him. "Your silence has been clear enough for me," you bit out, your voice trembling with the frustration you’d been holding in.

You turned to leave, but Tsukishima’s hand wrapped around your wrist, stopping you in your tracks. The warmth of his touch sent a jolt through you. "Come on, you’ve been avoiding me for days. And we both know it's hurting us equally,” he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading.

You pulled your wrist from his grasp, turning on him with a glare. “Fine. Talk now, then,” you snapped, your heart pounding. “Tell me it was casual for you to save me, help me, hug me, kiss my hand, let me sleep on your arm—”

“I like you too,” he interrupted, his voice steady, but there was an unfamiliar vulnerability in his eyes. “I like you too, okay?”

The world seemed to stop in that moment. The words you had been longing to hear felt like a balm to your aching heart, but the frustration remained. You felt tears prickling your eyes, the exhaustion and emotions mixing together as your breath hitched. "Then why didn’t you say anything?" you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks now that the dam had broken.

Tsukishima stepped closer, his hand reaching out to cup your face, gently wiping away the tears with his thumb. His touch was so gentle, so unlike the sharp edges of his personality you had grown used to. “I didn’t expect it from you. I was going to confess too, but… as a man, I was offended you made the first move.” He let out a small sigh. “That’s not an excuse, I know. I shouldn’t have left you hanging, confused.”

Tsukishima’s voice dropped, a subtle mix of uncertainty and self-reflection. He gazed down at you, his usually confident demeanor softened. “Do you really think you like me?” he asked, his brow furrowing slightly. “I mean, I was a jerk. A grumpy TA who gave you hard days. I made things worse for you when you were already struggling…”

His words trailed off, and he looked away for a moment, as if trying to process his own feelings. "You deserve better than that."

You blinked up at him, caught off guard by his sudden vulnerability. You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch despite everything. “But you helped me through things I was struggling with… even when you didn’t have to,” you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Tsukishima chuckled softly, his thumb continuing to wipe your tears away. He pulled you into his arms, wrapping you in an embrace that felt so natural, as if this had been waiting to happen all along. His fingers combed through your hair as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head, breathing in your scent, his hold on you tightening as if he feared letting go.

“Okay, okay, stop crying,” he teased lightly, though there was still softness in his voice. “I told you, I like you too.”

You let out a small, shaky laugh, wiping your own face now as you calmed down, still buried in the warmth of his chest. There was a comfortable silence between you as he held you, and you felt like you could stay there forever, the world outside fading away.

You tilted your head up to look at him, your face still flushed from crying but with a small smile tugging at your lips. “So… does that make you my boyfriend now?” you asked, your voice soft but with a hint of playful curiosity.

Tsukishima couldn’t help but smile at your question. He chuckled softly, shaking his head before nodding. "Yeah," he said, his voice filled with amusement and affection.

tagslist (free to mention) ; @theweirdfloatything @snowthatareblack @ilovemymomscooking @nayiiryun @knightofmidnight @kozumesphone @scxrcherr @thechaosoflonging @monya-febrjack

[wutheringcaterpillar]

Unsure if you’ve done this before but maybe a fic with Jackson x insecure!reader? Like the reader is not very trustworthy that Jackson is being faithful because of his job. It could be a fluffy smutty kinda thing. Thankssss

Warnings: smut, p in v, insecure!reader, mention of seperation anxiety, jealousy, fluff

Thank you for the request! I really do believe Jackson can have a sweet side and I wish it was touched on more, hope this does it justice <3

The bedside lay empty, the room chilly from the furnace bring broken. You had been on the phone multiple times trying to get the damn thing fixed but the guy still hadn't showed.

Closing your book, you glanced down at the watch wrapped around the small of your wrist. Jackson's flight was supposed to be landing soon. You had missed him deeply, constantly checking your phone for any texts, calls, a sign that he was thinking of you but there was nothing.

Sighing, you rolled yourself out of bed begrudgingly, heart pattering, mind racing with anxious thoughts. His boss Linda often accompanied him. She was an older woman, thin with blonde hair and blue eyes, every hormonal boy's wet dream.

She was hot, had curves in all the placed you did not, had a knack for negotiating and speaking to people with authority. It wasn't just her though, there were plenty of targets you were insecure of. Jackson was charismatic, charming, with a very convincing smile on his face to get them where he wanted them. It was quite often that you'd lay in bed waiting on a response. Throat becoming tight when he'd turn his location off. Jackson was always, honest with you about how in his field, there were people wiser than him. He could be tracked, or hacked by the enemy. The endless thoughts were depressing, but you wouldn't blame him if he did do something with Linda or a different girl, he probably just didn't tell you to protect your sensitive, stupid feelings.

Pulling up at the pick up point, you waited only a total of five minutes before he was walking out side by side with her. She hugged him goodbye, making you frown thinking most bosses don't do that with their employees. Curling in on yourself, you shrunk your hands into the sleeves of the long sleeve you were wearing, the fabric acting as a shield for yourself.

The car door finally opened, Jackson pecking you on the cheek with a dashing smiled imprinted on his attractive face. When you hardly smiled, he was concerned immediately.

"Babe? Everything okay?" Inhaling a deep breath, shaking off the feeling of embarrassment and insecurity. You forced a smiled, nodding and putting the car in drive. Right away he was skeptical. His job involved reading people, and he was good at it but deciding not to press it, he furrowed his brows, glancing out the window as you drove off back home.

There was barely a word said, just blankless stares at the road while Jackson would glance over every few minutes concerned. Had he done something wrong? Did something happen while he was away he was supposed to know about? His girl was hurting, trying to pretend that something wasn't bothering him, and that bothered him.

Once inside, he closed the bedroom door, noticing how there were dark, faded bags under your eyes like you hadn't slept. Sorrow fulfilling your pretty eyes, he sat down beside you, taking your delicate hand in his gently, forcing you to look at him.

"What's wrong? And don't tell me it's nothing. We've been together nearly a year, I know when something is bothering you." You couldn't stop the tear from falling effortlessly down your cheek.

"I- um. I don't look like them..." He was puzzled, eyebrows knitting together in confusion, crystal eyes glowing with care for the situation. Then it clicked. Without giving a chance for you to turn away, his large hands wrapped caringly around you, holding your shaking, crying body as you wept into his neck, forming a puddle on the warmth of his skin. He hadn't smelt of a girl, just his normal self, maybe that was a good sign?

"Honey like who?"

"Like them! Like fucking Linda, your fucking targets..." A playful smirk curled upon Jackson's lips, eyebrows lifting in amusement.

"You mean the targets that are dead?" You shoved him lightly knowing how stupid this sounded. Jackson had never given you a reason to believe he was cheating, he had never acted differently when coming home, hardly on his phone other than business reasons and playing silly games with you. Past insecurities and traumas were eating you alive, ruining and blocking out all the happy feelings a person typically has in a relationship. But the thought of losing him shattered your heart, having to compete with other women made your skin crawl, thinking you'd lose or maybe you already have.

When you weren't laughing at his joke, his fingers trailed your shaking hands, realizing this was serious. His baby blue eyes watched you with a sense of sensitivity and curiosity.

"Sweetheart where is all this coming from? How long has this been brewing in that mysterious little head of yours?" Looking down shamefully, you admitted it's been ever since reality set in that he would be away, stalking beautiful women, working with a pretty one, and just endless thoughts of he could do better than your introverted, quiet self. He wasn't a bad looking man, but there have been quite a few women you'd seen flirt with him even with you present by his side. He always curved them, not having the time of day for pointless interactions or conversations he couldn't care less about. He'd always ignore them, reassuring you by not even glancing their way or intertwining his hand with yours as an expression for he was already taken and wasn't going anywhere. Not that he had to do this to make you content but because he hadn't had eyes for any other girl. But what did he do when this happened and you weren't around? The thoughts ate away at your mind endlessly...

His fingers laced in between yours, lips pouting from your confession.

"Y/N, I know every guy in history has said this but you have nothing to worry about. Fucking Linda, I've never been drawn to her, I've never loved her like I am in love with you okay? Same thing for the other girls, you are on my mind as soon as I walk out this damn door and the first and last thing I think about every singular day." He noticed your breathing seem to shallow, the tears haulting slowly. He hated seeing you like this, and if you didn't believe him, he would prove it to you.

"You don't have to lie to protect my feelings, y'know that right?" He inched forward until you were laying beneath him, heart thudding painfully against his chest from what was about to come. Was he going to say something like, "Finally! I've been holding that in for so long, good riddance" but no. He did quite the opposite.

His plump, delicate lips pressed against yours in an innocent yet seductive manner. His hands trailing down your sides, needing you to understand he wasn't staying because he was forced to but because he loved you, and he'd never do anything to risk losing you.

Your eyebrows propped up in surprise, relishing the horrible view of yourself you held. "Don't think for a minute, I'd ever leave you sweetheart. I love you, and I'm going to show you just how much." He hummed melodically in between the devilish kisses, grinning like a fool in love. His tongue swiped down your neck, leaving goosebumps standing while his knee pressed up predominantly into that pussy he so deeply cherished. His hips grinded forward eagerly, fingers combing over your delicate chin before discarding your clothes with immense assertiveness.

Your tears seemed to stop, the sense of smell focusing on his natural smell of teakwood with a hint of cigarettes. You had missed him profoundly, needing this little intimate session for all the reassurance and he was happy to oblige to give you that.

His hands pressed firmly between your thighs, spreading your legs apart to reveal the beautiful, enticing mound he had missed immensely. She glimmered in the moonlight with a deep need to be filled by his large shaft, to feel loved again. Jackson's eyes glistened in the dark room, you were a sight for sore eyes and he was beyond grateful that you were so willing to stick around and deal with his shit job. That was rare, that was love.

His lips connected to your clit, leaving compassionate suckles, determined to have your legs shaking by the end of this much needed intimate session.

"Fuck baby, I missed you so much..." You purred, the negative thoughts away as he ate away at your sex, fingers protruding into your tight, slippery canal with desire. He simply hummed once more against your sex, digits pumping with lustful enthusiasm curling slightly, palming at that sweet spot he knew all too well. He caressed, your inner thighs, glancing up only to find your eyes fluttering closed, lips partially agape while your breathing was becoming partially ragged. Noticing the way your nipples were hardening in the cool air with anticipation for more.

When he removed his fingers and lips, you whined from the void but the man knew your pleasure points inside and out.

"Shhh, I gotta take care of my beautiful baby girl..." Your eyes watched with fascination as his hand wrapped around his cock, pumping the hardened, long member. Your mouth was watering just imagining the feeling of him inside of you. It had been quite sometime since you've had sex with his work picking up, this was just what you both needed.

His shaft glided gracefully between your soaked folds before sliding into your wonderous, desperate cavern.

Fuck he had forgotten how amazing your pussy felt wrapped around his cock. He couldn't hold back from releasing a low, throaty groan once he was buried inside of you fully, balls pressed against the rim of your ass cheeks.

In the moment, you released that initial melodic sound of shock and pleasure from the sudden fullness, never breaking eye contact with Jackson.

"I missed you, and this, so.... much love." The cool frigid air of your apartment began to naturally warm once your hips grinded down against him, seeking out more movement, more friction, you needed him.

"Please, please more..." He started a swift rhythym, thrusting in and out while his lips connected with your nipple, other hand palming you breast massaging the cushiony skin. God, your boobs were like fluffy little clouds, the closest thing Jackson could obtain and compare to heaven on earth.

Your hand curved up the nape of his neck, fingers scrunching and kneeding his hair, puling him up into a passionate, captivating kiss, tongue delving in between his lips, dancing together in a poetic sillhouette. His taste, his touch, his cock, you had missed it all. He ascended further inside your aching pussy, your slick melting like an ice cream on a hot summer day, dripping down onto his cock as he slid in an out of your tight hole, claiming what was his.

He rutted into you like a dog in heat, your hips grinding down against him with each powerful thrust. Your ankles wrapping behind him, locking in place wanting, needing to lock in that perfect position.

"Jackson, right there, feels- so good...Mmm.." His crystal blue eyes were fixated on every reaction your body gave him, focusing on your face and how you looked oh so perfect beneath.

"Taking my cock so well, such a good girl. My good girl..." Picking up pace, he could tell you were close, feeling your toes curl behind him. He intertwined his hands with yours, his hot breath against your neck as he arched his pack, bottoming out inside of you, making you moan from the building euphoric feeling in your cunt.

"Faster, faster..." Who was he to deny such tumultous satisfaction. The bed frame shook, mattress squeaking as he drilled into you, feeling your boobs bounce up and down against his chest with each thrust, fuck he was close but he wanted you to cum first. From the sound of it though, you were already there.

An overhwhelming, powerful sensation that was unexplainable consumed your body. Screaming and moaning for Jackson to keep going, a wild heat rose in your blooming flower as your orgasm hit like a strong wave would crash upon the shoreline. Your back arched, chest pressed flush against his. Hearing you moan his name Jackson couldn't hold back anymore, flexing his hips and releasing his seed inside of you, the pulsations of his thick cock helping with the duration of your high.

Catching his breath, he came up for air with his hair a mess and staggered breathing, looking into your fucked out eyes.

"Do you believe me now that I'm not going anywhere. Not any other woman I would even think of fucking like that. You are amazing." He pressed a chaste kiss to your forehead, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear and making you blush. Perhaps you were just in over your head and needed reminding of what type of boyfriend Jackson was.

"I'm sorry I thought that I-" He silenced your words with one last kis, hand cupping your cheek delicately as he looked lovingly into your beading eyes when he pulled away.

"No need for apologies, I just need you to talk to me when you are feeling these type of things, okay love?" His voice was soft, caring, all the more reason why you fell in love with him.

"I will, I promise. I love you." He smiled in response, pulling you into his arms to keep you warm through the night, and coaxing you both from the separation.

"I love you too, now let's got shut eye hm?"

[thefiery-phoenix]

YANDERE KENMA KOZUME HEADCANONS

Kenma is an obsessive yandere and he's also self aware 

You are in Kenma's math class and you were the only one who managed to catch his eye because of your shining personality. He really admired you, like alot

Even though this boi is OBSESSED with you, poor bby's really nervous about approaching you and blowing his first impression with you. So, he'll watch and admire you from far. And THAT means, he's basically like your secret admirer 

Though he might not seem like it, Kenma is a VERY perceptive person. He knows and understands what exactly a person is going through and their feelings. He cares for his friends a lot and YES, that ALSO includes a certain raven haired rooster ;) But these feelings are a bit.... different when it comes to you. He's never experienced love before and he has trouble understand these new feelings. He just can't understand HOW in the HECK you can make his heart flutter with your smile and his tummy become a zoo when you laugh. Sure, he's played games on love and all that before but he didn't bother going in depth about it but after he saw you, he made it like his mission to learn and know EACH and EVERY single thing about it

His confusion towards his feelings will most likely be manifested in dark, sinister and twisted feelings of love and obsession towards you. He's content with just watching you from far and if you speak to him, he'll be a stuttering mess. Poor bby

Doesn't like it when you hang around other people, ESPECIALLY Oikawa. He really hates how close you are with him. And he really wishes he could do something to get rid of those annoying little gnats you call 'friends'. Can't you see? They'll desert you one day and they'll NEVER love you like how Kenma does 

Luckily, Kuroo is Kenma's wingman and helps him get to you when he learns about his crush. I have a feeling Kuroo's also gonna help Kenma when it comes to kidnapping you and keeping you 'safe'

Sure, Kenma will collect little trinkets from you and have a collection of your items but he won't go as far as to collecting your clothes since he KNOWS that's just creepy as hell and he ain't that much of a creep

He will find out EVERYTHING about you and YES, that also includes that Wattpad and Tumblr account you haven't told anyone about. If you're an author on any of these sites, he'll find a way to login with your username and password after he reads them off from your secret diary, and he'll LOVE every word you've written. He'll also have access to your mails and everything since he wants to keep you safe from danger and he wants to know more about you 

As much as he creepily stalks the HELL out of you, he will respect your privacy and your personal space. He isn't a pervert to watch you take your showers and he drinks and DROWNS in his respect women juice like Kuroo 

He only stalks you since he just wants to make sure you get to places safely, like an escort mission in a game where you're the princess and he's your knight in shining armor or your prince charming 

Kenma won't go TOO far with his obsession. It'll take A LOT to make HIM snap and when he does snap, oh boy.... you better have your running shoes in handy since he is literally going to make Satan and Lucifer look like the Bubble Guppies, no joke

If he kidnaps you, it's going to be because he's scared and insecure that you'll like someone else and he doesn't blame you for that. But, he wants to make sure that you fall in love with him and if you don't, well... he'll make you fall in love with him

Don't EVER try escaping from him. Many bones WILL be broken and NONE of them are going to be HIS

When it comes to rivals and enemies, he'll let them off with a dire warning but if they are stupid enough to go near you again, he will literally kill them in the most painful way imaginable till that person is going to be BEGGING for death 

If you drive him stir crazy and over the edge, he'll just lock you in a dark room till you're ready to say sorry. He NEEDS you behave no matter WHAT he should do. He is rather strict when it comes to discipline and YES, he'll even take away the cat

After you're done with your punishment, he'll make you sit on his lap and wipe your tears while he cuddles with you and lets you play his video games or he'll let you watch your favorite movie on Netflix

Apart from this, he likes giving you little gifts from time to time like bracelets or if you like books, he'll get you books. If you're a gamer like him, he'll get you your own playstation and a nintendo switch or if you like drawing, expect a whole bunch of art supplies and sketch books sitting on the dining table wrapped neatly for you 

Would LOVE to have a family with you though he'll be nervous as hell. What if he won't be a good father? And he'll not force you till you're ready to have a family with him by having a bunch of crazy little toddlers running around here and there 

Manipulation will NEVER work on this dude so don't even try. He can easily tell when you're trying to manipulate him. He can calculate your every move and your thought since he studied you really well and you're easy to read like an open book. If you think you're 2 steps ahead of him, he's always 10 steps ahead of you 

Will never make you do things you're uncomfortable with. He gets shy sometimes when he shows you affection and if you reciprocate his feelings back, Tsundere mode activated. But, he'll cuddle you and hug and kiss you whenever you want

Nicknames include: Pudding (Why am I getting reminded of Harley Quinn calling Joker that?!), Kitty cat, Sweetheart, Darling, Kitten

Once you get Stockholm Syndrome, things will get easier for you and expect a neatly wrapped from Kenma's best man Kuroo who's happy for you both and is even MORE happy that he doesn't have to go chasing you around here and there anymore when you're trying to escape

[themculibrary]

Irondad 100k+ Fics Masterlist

A Dysfunctional Senior Year (ao3) - ApolloLoki97 T, 177k

Summary: The chronicles of Peter Parker’s eventful Senior Year.

After moving in with the Avengers due to an unfortunate passing of Aunt May, Peter is living with a dysfunctional crew who he can’t help but love.

However, someone is threatening the Avengers and the safety of the world and those within it. It’s up to Peter and the rest of the team to figure out how to save the world, but most importantly, themselves.

How will this all play out?

A Parent Apparent (ao3) - happyaspie mj/peter T, 528k

Summary: In which the author indulges herself in some shameless Irondad/Spiderson with fluff, angst and everything in between because she needs more of that in her life.

OR

Just another one of those, oh so overdone, fanfics where Tony and Peter’s relationship grows into more of a father/son relationship after an accident involving Aunt May (who lives)

Bend The Definition Of Fate (ao3) - Ashleyparker2815 N/R, 122k

Summary: Peter Parker is de-aged and goes to Tony Stark for help. Tony doesn’t know what to do at first but he eventually learns, with a few bumps along the way.

built from scraps (ao3) - peterstank pepper/tony T, 138k

Summary: “Everybody needs someone. That’s what you said, right?” Pepper meets his eyes and he’s struck by the way she’s almost pleading. “We both lost. We can help each other.”

Her hand, palm up and open, stretches into the space between them.

Peter hesitates.

Then he takes it.

or: the one where tony was dusted instead of peter, so he and pepper try to figure out the whole ‘family’ thing together.

(oh, and it turns out that the man who died in peter’s arms on an alien planet is his biological father. who knew, right?)

darkness will be rewritten (ao3) - princessironspider natasha/tony N/R, 109k

Summary: Peter is Tony's biological child.

Natasha Romanoff has been married to Tony Stark secretly for years.

What would the movies be like if this were the case?

From Now On (ao3) - buckleyirondad pepper/tony T, 201k

Summary: The Parker Family worked alongside the Starks since the creation of the company.

Following a tragic accident that leaves Peter Parker without a family, Tony goes against the pleas of the people closest to him and decides to adopt Peter. The duo fight against unpredictable odds as they enter a universe bigger than they truly understand. [Pre-Iron Man through to Endgame]

Identity Theft (ao3) - KitCat992 pepper/tony T, 244k

Summary: (Or: The Avengers welcome Peter into their crazy superhero family and will do anything to protect him.)

Shameless Peter whump and Protective Tony Stark.

Intern Spider (ao3) - Emily_F6 pepper/tony G, 126k

Summary: Penny Parker applied to the pilot Stark Industries internship program before she got her powers. But when Mr. Stark becomes her personal and superhero mentor, she’ll have to get creative to keep the two identities separate…and secret.

I Will Carry You (Always) (ao3) - TheStarvingWriter T, 163k

Summary: When Aunt May tragically dies in a car accident, not only is Peter crushed, but he blames himself for it as well. Luckily, there’s someone there to pick up the pieces, and just maybe, put them back together again. Featuring a self-deprecating yet fatherly Tony and a soft, scared Peter.

Lights To Guide You Home (ao3) - JolinarJackson M, 185k

Summary: Tony becomes Peter’s guardian after May dies unexpectedly and over the course of a year, they learn to become a family.

Out of Sight, Out of Mind (ao3) - Safari43271 p T, 171k

Summary: Peter coming back from the snap to find out Tony has his own kid really made him insecure about spending time with him and his old bad habits come back full force in order to cope with the changes. Even though he was excited to go visit him at the cabin for the weekend, the last thing he wants is to be a burden and take time away from Morgan.. after all he is her real dad.

Things didn’t turn out the way Peter or Tony had hoped for that weekend when one mistake on Tony’s part almost cost Peter his life.

*** When Happy finally spoke up his voice was sharp and panicked. “Tony, please, please for the love of god tell me that you have Peter with you! Or at least tell me he is somewhere in this building! Please just tell me that you have him!” Happy yelled as he clasped his hands together like he was praying. ***

Raise Me Up (ao3) - LBIGreyhound13 pepper/tony T, 124k

Summary: Takes place 10 months after Spider-Man: Homecoming. After Aunt May suddenly dies, Peter has nowhere to go. Luckily, there’s a certain mentor of his, who comes in to save him…in more ways than one.

Still Here, Still There (ao3) - ArwenP steve/tony N/R, 281k

Summary: Tony and Steve never think about having a child- until they do. They have their son, Peter, and then... everything goes to hell.

Now that they decided to keep their son away... what will happen to all of them?

The Guardian (ao3) - Emily_F6 pepper/tony T, 234k

Summary: Guardian: a person who guards, protects, or preserves.

When a terrible accident claims the life of May Parker, Tony Stark steps up as Peter’s guardian. But it’s not just a traumatized super-teen he’ll have to worry about when he receives a transmission from Thor.

The Puzzle that is Peter Parker (ao3) - Neuropsyche pepper/tony T, 279k

Summary: Peter is reeling from the after-effects of the spider bite and seeks out Tony Stark. If anyone can teach him how to be a superhero, it’s Ironman, right? Tony isn’t impressed at being stalked by an eight year old

The Third Option (ao3) - Uncertainty_Principle M, 220k

Summary: Homecoming A/U.

Ben and May divorced before Peter’s parents died, so when Ben is murdered Peter goes into foster care. It takes just a tiny taste of superpowers for Peter to decide he doesn’t want to put up with his horrible foster father anymore—the streets are infinitely more appealing. All he wants is to be Spider-Man anyway.

So he leaves.

Simple.

Simple, that is, until Iron Man needs Spider-Man’s help. Peter isn’t about to turn down an opportunity to fight alongside Tony Freaking Stark, but he also isn’t going to let his hero know that his recruit is a fifteen-year-old homeless dropout. So they strike a deal. Peter will help Tony. In return, the mask stays on.

And that’s when things get complicated.

Time Will Tell (ao3) - TonyStarkissist pepper/tony T, 166k

Summary: So… some weird stuff is going on. First the dreams, then Peter calls him Dad, and now everyone is convinced Peter is his illegitimate son. What a day.

If only things could get even crazier… oh wait…

Walking The Wire (ao3) - emquin pepper/tony, steve/tony, mary/tony T, 372k

Summary: It was a one night stand and Tony had a lot of them, but this one changed everything. Tony always knew Peter Parker existed. He had no idea that Peter would become Spider-Man, but he kept tabs on his son, even when he couldn't meet him. Peter Parker grew up unaware of his superhero father, admiring Iron Man from afar and unaware that one day he would too become a super-hero - an Avenger. Spanning the entirety of the MCU , this fic covers a canonical view of what it would be like if Peter was Tony's biological son dwelving heavily into the canon. AU post-Infinity War with an AU version of Endgame and with a Stony endgame.

We’re Gonna Have to do This Together (ao3) - edibna T, 156k

Summary: Being a superhero sometimes means you forget about the small dangers in the world, like disease. For Peter, this means he loses May to natural causes, not something he could ever save her from.

Unknown to him, May left custody of Peter in the hands of Tony Stark, who, even though he wants kids, has no idea how to actually raise one. With a grieving superhero teenager on his hands, Tony is going to have to figure it out quick, if he wants Peter to ever be able to move on and be happy.

When I Am On Your Shoulders (ao3) - Lady_Blackwater steve/bucky, peter/johnny storm M, 165k

Summary: Peter didn’t want to think that this year was the worst of his life given he’s only sixteen— things could be much worse than his fathers getting a divorce. He can (kinda) deal with the two most important men in his life splitting up, but he hadn’t counted on living with his dad Steve, and his new boyfriend for the summer.

[shallowseeker]

When Dean says, "You just bought into the biggest hoax in history," it's a strange dialogue, given the recent context.

DEAN: This mess... all the messes. It turns out that we're just hamsters running in a wheel our whole lives. What do we have to show for it, huh? Tell me you don't feel conned. God's been lying to you, Cas, forever. You bought into the biggest scam in history.

"You bought into it," Dean says. Which... no.

Cas may have prayed to Chuck, he may have been a loyal soldier to Chuck for eons, but he's the one that turned away from Chuck's recent machinations. He's the one that challenged Chuck and walked away from him, even from Sam and Dean.

So, then.

What are Dean's words about? Well. They're about everything. But they're about Dean's shame. His despair.

//

I think (2) things. These words are directed at Cas because Dean's "putting on Cas what he can't take," but Dean's saying these words indirectly to himself.

It's Dean who just bought into Chuck's scam at the worst possible moment. (This was a momentary thing, but to Dean, this feels huge. A betrayal and a self-betrayal. A crisis of faith and a crisis of faith.) And Cas, kindly, does not call him on this. He's sympathetic. So sympathetic.

Why?

CASTIEL: You don't think I'm angry? After what Chuck did? After what he took from me? He killed Jack. But that doesn't mean it was all a lie. DEAN: Really? CASTIEL: Chuck is all-knowing. He knew the truth, he... he just kept it to himself. DEAN: Well, now that his cover's blown, everything that we've done is for what? Nothing? CASTIEL: Even if we didn't know that all of the challenges that we face were born of Chuck's machinations, how would we describe it all? We'd call it "life". Because that's precisely what life is. It's an obstacle course, and maybe Chuck designed the obstacles, but we ran our own race. We made our own moves. And mostly, we did well with that. DEAN: Did we?

15x02

And this is Dean's insecurities playing up again. Did Dean do well here? DID he?

He bought into Chuck's machinations and played right into his hands. Dean was spiraling, hurt, and he felt he had to do the "right thing" to save the world from Jack.

But the pain point is: Dean feels like the world's biggest dupe right now, and it's easier to blame Cas. If you're really squinting at the circumstances and considering Dean's propensity for stories and reading, it's even easy to be suspicious of Cas.

Mary's dead. Jack's dead. They didn't do "mostly well" with this obstacle course, with this game of Mouse Trap.

In Dean's mind, they have resoundingly lost.

//

Cas is trying to offer support, gently, saying "We're real." Because he went through this moment waaay back in season 4 with Heaven. Back then, it was Dean who snapped Cas out of it and helped him wrestle with Heaven's authority and what's really real:

DEAN: Destiny? Don't give me that "holy" crap. Destiny, God's plan... It's all a bunch of lies, you poor, stupid son of a bitch! It's just a way for your bosses to keep me and keep you in line! You know what's real? People, families -- that's real. And you're gonna watch them all burn? ... 'Cause I'll take the pain and the guilt. I'll even take Sam as is. ...This is simple, Cas! No more crap about being a good soldier. There is a right and there is a wrong here, and you know it. ... Look at me! (DEAN grabs CASTIEL’s shoulder and turns CASTIEL back to face him) You know it! You were gonna help me once, weren't you? You were gonna warn me about all this...Help me -- now. Please.

4x22

They're almost the same scene.

Cas can't bring up that families are real because their family just died—a whole big freakin' chunk of it, and it's too painful. So, instead of "families are real," we get "we're real." But Cas is effectively calling back Dean's own words.

Absolutely, it is mirroring 4x22.

Dean has become season 4 Cas, conflicted, horrified with himself, not knowing what's real, and seeming to make all the wrong moves. This is the soldier's burden, now unsure of the cause (and "we're real" IS the through-line for every soldier-coded character from vintage SPN all the way to terminal-season- Eileen.)

Dean charges Cas with being "the thing that goes wrong" because (1) he's rightfully suspicious of all things Chuck-adjacent and (2) Dean feels like he's the thing going wrong in big ways right now. That everything he does is for nothing.

Dean "choked" at the worst possibly time with AU Michael, back during The Spear in 14x09, and it devastated him. AU Michael said as much:

Michael Dean: To break him, to crush and disappoint him so completely that, this time, he'll be nice and quiet for a change -- buried. And he is. He's gone. 

For Dean, that moment has a clear path to THIS moment. And this is where he finds himself now, choking again with regards to Chuck.

It's devastating.

EDIT: I like this, because it's a little-discussed complicating factor in the trial separation, but it's a huge part of it, too: that Dean chose Chuck's plan, even for a moment.

It's a guilt Dean carries but will not easily admit, and for Cas, it's just painful. Painful because Chuck should have been a loved one to trust, but he was a piece of shit with ill intentions... and painful because Dean couldn't see it immediately.

BUT they did show amazing resilience, even in the face of all of it. We have to remember that, even after Mary died, even after Dean said Cas was dead to him, they stayed together, in the same house, speaking to one another.

When Mary was burning on the pyre, Cas was ready to run and try to take Dean in his arms (Sam stopped him). Chuck had to try to interfere directly to engineer a separation. Even after Jack, they were sticking like glue as they ran from the graveyard, then saying "thank you" and "welcome" to one another when dealing with the zombies. At a time when they should've been oil and water, they were trying to find a way to be around one another and leech much-needed support from the other. It was Belphagor that drove the biggest wedge. Then The levee broke after the burning of Jack's body and the loss of Rowena.

(And even after that levee broke, they swam to one another later in the season. As The Trap shows us, found new purpose together right up until Claire Novak died.)

[beckelliesden]

I've been thinking about the Metatron's motivations.

At first, I thought he was using Aziraphale in a simple internal power struggle ploy. He can't be in charge because he's just a spokesman and since he knows Micheal has no intention to share authority with anyone else, he needs a puppet if he wants to run the show. Aziraphale, who is naive and, let's admit it, easily coaxed, makes a perfect candidate. He isn't a very elevated angel, so he assumes he'll be easy to handle - and quite as easy to dismiss if he refuses to play along as intended. And recruiting him has the added bonus of getting rid of a torn in heaven's side by breaking up Aziraphale and Crowley, who are blamed for thwarting Armageddon 1.0. After that 25-lazarii miracle they inadvertently produced together, it's easy to see how the Metatron would be very keen to prevent them from standing in the way of Armageddon 2.0.

Then, I thought about it some more. I thought about some of the dark, ominous looks he's cast from the corner of his eyes, the color-coding of his clothes and the way he oh so easily swayed Aziraphale. Heavens is a lot of things in the show, but it's never flattering and persuasive. Not like that. Flattery and bribery are Hell's tools, and so is playing on people's insecurities and setting them up against one another.

And then I thought, what if the Metatron isn't the Metatron? What if Satan took personal interest in the launching of Armageddon 2.0 and impersonated the Metatron?

God couldn't care less, that's a given, but Satan? He was obviously VERY pissed off and personally involved at the end of S01. It's a bit foolish to think that because Adam thwarted him on Earth he's out of the picture permanently. Or that he won't be trying to extract his revenge on those who thwarted him- it's apparently his whole thing.

And then, we come back to Aziraphale - and, more to the point, Crowley. Who is Aziraphale? A mid-level angel - a nobody who means well and can be easily swayed with the right arguments. But Crowley? From Satan's point of view, Crowley is NOT a nobody. If we read the clues correctly, Crowley was NEVER a nobody, in fact. He was a pretty high-ranking angel before the Fall, possibly even an archangel. More to the point, Satan thinks Crowley is his top agent. He's the demon who instigated the original sin, invented the Spanish Inquisition and started WW2. The demonic genius behind the M25.

The demon who was SUPPOSED to deliver the antichrist on Earth.

Crowley did not just turn traitor on Hell, but on SATAN personally.

So it would make sense for Satan to take a personal interest in return.

Everything that follows just makes so much sense if Satan is impersonating the Metatron. He wants the launching of Armageddon 2.0 AND revenge on Crowley. So he arranges to use Aziraphale to do both. He takes him away from Crowley - and makes Aziraphale break his heart in the process.

I've seen people go about the coffee scene, arguing the coffee was spiked. I think that if any 'miracle' was performed at that fateful moment, it was to push Nina and Maggie to have that conversation with Crowley. So that Crowley would finally open himself up and confess to Aziraphale - only to be rejected in the most heartbreaking way possible by Aziraphale, who's been dazzled by the idea of running Heavens along with his best friend as angels.

I've also seen people comment on how manipulative and cunning the Metatron was to 'orchestrate' the break up - and he was, no doubt about it. But how would the Metatron, as an angel, know how insulting and impossible a proposition that would be for Crowley? He'd have to be a fucking mastermind on top of being a master manipulator - two things he certainly didn't seem to be in s01. No, I'm sorry, but an angel would just assume a demon would WANT to come back into the fold. Only a demon would know better. And only a demon would go about breaking them up so cunningly.

And here's the good bit: the Metatron only turns up AFTER the Hell delegation has gone to report Beelzebub's treason to their master. Not before or during, but AFTER.

And what is one of the first thing he does when he walks into the bookshop? He asks Crowley if he recognizes him, of course. He doesn't ask because Crowley used to be a high-ranking angel - he asks because Crowley is a demon, and if he can fool Crowley, then he can fool anyone, can he?

And that leads us to the elevator scene. Notice how fast Metatron pushes the 'Heavens' button as soon as Aziraphale sets foot in? Notice the calculative looks he gives him from the corner of his eyes? They make perfect sense if Aziraphale just fell into a particularly devious and intricate trap - setting himself up as both an hostage and a tool for Satan to further extract revenge on Crowley and start Armageddon 2.0.

Oh, while ALSO providing Satan with his 'ride' to infiltrate Heavens, of course. Demons can't use the elevator without an escort, remember?

It all makes so much damned sense - and it scares the shit out of me for s03.

[dulcecherub]

Songs that reminds me of Rafia

Author’s note: A lot has changed for me in these couple of days. With my cat giving birth, I’ve been helping her take care of her little kittens. I’ve been also trying to not be on my phone as much and start reading more. I’ve been wanting to finish the 80+ books I have on my shelf and my ass keeps buying more. But also I hit a bit of writers block. So here’s this for now. I know there’s only two chapters left of Igual Que Un Angel. But I’m kind of anxious of ending it on a really bad note. Writing wise not plot. Just a little update.

I don’t imagine that Sofia moves on from Rafe quickly. Nor he moves on from her quickly. So this song perfectly encapsulates that. She can’t imagine anyone else holding her in the way he did. And he can’t help but be the same way.

I analyzed the song further and holy shit. Yeah. “There's no one like you/Baby, I promise/(I could tell you, but it wouldn't be right)/Nadie como tú/(We cried together when we said our goodbyes)/Yes, I'm being honest/(I'd like to hold you, God, I wish we could talk)/There's no one like you/(Down by the water where we used to get lost).”

The we cried together when we said our goodbyes reminds me of their proposal scene. When he leaves her to find Groff. And they literally cried in each others arms. The I wish we could talk reminds me of Sofia and her guilt. We probably might see her still in that state. Then the down by the water where we used to get lost. Maybe this is just me being corny. But most of their scenes are near bodies of water. I mean duh. But I thought this was a cute point to make.

“If you see me alone and sad/ don’t talk to me/ if you see me alone and sad/ it’s my fault/ life is a party that one day ends/ and you were my unforgettable dance” I translated it.

Like this is how I imagine Sofia feels about it. I feel like she’ll feel so guilty about it. She will just claim blame to everything she’s done. I know it’s eating her alive still. Even if he knows now. But I feel also once Rafe finds out why Sofia did what she did. He’ll feel the same way. Like oh so I was also a big reason why this ended so badly.

“At night, I can’t even sleep anymore/ all i do is dream of you.” I’ve made a blurb of Rafe dreaming about Sofia and this reminded me of that. Just wanted to circle back to that.

this song is so sexual and during their relationship. I can imagine they were always having sex. Like let’s be real. They were hooking up the moment she came on screen. I know they’re freaky. It’s more of the vibe of the song. I know he was like beginning to become sober around this time. So it’s more of the sexual nature of this song. Then that.

“Give me reasons we should be complete/You should be with him, I can’t compete.”

I feel like this is how Sofia felt with Rafe and the Kooks. She felt so left out. Even if she was always around them. She just didn’t feel like she fit in. We always saw her with Rafe, clinging to him. Unsure how to navigate this new world she was thrust into. I don’t think she liked it. She was doing it for him. To make him happy. The him in this case is the Kooks lol. I don’t think Rafe ever felt that way towards her. Not saying he was sure about her. But on his end he wasn’t insecure about being with her. More like people trying to define their relationship? I hope you get what I’m saying.

I do feel like Sofia was really insecure about her relationship with him. I don’t think they really spoke about their relationship much. Before he proposed. And before he confessed that he sees a future with her. She looked surprised when he mentions it. So before, I feel like she was a bit insecure. Like am I even good enough for this guy? Does he even really want me? I wouldn’t say she overcompensated by being really flirty. We saw from the jump that’s just how she is. But I think internally she was insecure about her relationship with him. That’s why she kept hovering with Hollis. And why she took that deal.

“It’s not true/ tell me I’ve been lied to/ crying isn’t like you.”

Oh I know Rafe, if he listens to Billie’s music felt that first line hard. I feel like this encapsulates how Rafe feels about Sofia. I feel like at first he feared how he felt about her. I wish we got to see him battling more with how he felt towards her. Because there did seem to be a struggle of him trying to save face. But also being in love with her. Like he hated Pogues. And then now he’s in love with one. It should have been explored more in my humble opinion.

[theophagie-remade]

I've been kind of following the Gundam lesbians vs Bandai controversy from the sidelines (ie: the main characters got married (offscreen) at the end of the series and the production team is supportive; Bandai censored the explicit mentions of marriage in a recent magazine and then said that everything is up to interpretation) and. In general it's a really good example of how oftentimes it's not authors who should mainly be blamed for the lack of unapologetic queerness in anime and manga (or anywhere else, for that matter), but those companies that they work for

Which leads me to

And as a side note I want to reiterate this but anyone who calls them "queerbait", "yuribait", etc is a stupid dickhead because Toga is bisexual and in love with Uraraka. THE QUEER IS THERE

At this point it no longer makes much sense to wonder whether the romantic undertones to Uraraka and Toga's relationship are accidental or not. I won't claim that they will definitely end up together together (although I've seen enough Japanese fans go crazy for how proposal-esque Uraraka got to, like, at least entertain the thought lol), but what I want to say is. Everything that happened between them is deliberately meant to be read as queer, romantic, and mutual. Uraraka may have not said "I love you" back to Toga in these same terms, but through her actions and words she has reciprocated her feelings. Yes, even if Those Assholes say that she's just lying, that anything that isn't spoon-fed explicitly confirmed is just a "delusional interpretation"

Even then, the supposed line between text and subtext is... a bit eyebrow raising, innit. Toga being bisexual and having feelings for Uraraka is text. Exchanging blood being equal to kissing to her is text. Her insecurities are text......... Uraraka wanting to give Toga her blood, thinking that her smile is beautiful, and that she's the cutest in the whole world is text. I feel like that strongly suggests something at minimum, no. And. Can we really call it subtext, or even coding, when characters do everything short of dramatically shouting "I gay-love you!" to each other? These are more of my personal feelings, and I know that this happens because We Live In A Society, so we tend to feel like things like these must be outright defined so that our queer interpretations can gain validity and the right to exist in the eyes of the majority (= the cishet audience), but... I do find this way of engaging with media rather stifling, especially because... people who hate us to begin with won't care if two manga girls declare their love to each other. Chances are that they will get angrier, actually, or that they will look for excuses to deny their love ("the author was pressured by crazy shippers", "akchually the wording is ambiguous", "the degenerate West is corrupting the purity of the East", you name it)

Still, I know. I know that there's a lot of hunger for undeniably canonical queer relationships (for obvious reasons! understable reasons!), but to circle back to the beginning of this post, pushing back against the system is hard. Bnha's ending is still a ways off, and no one can predict the future. We don't know if Horikoshi plans to stress even further/more bluntly within the manga that Oh, They 👭🏳️‍🌈, we don't know if Jump would allow him to, we don't know if such a thing would be met with opposition elsewhere/afterwards (see: what Bandai is trying to do now, after everything has been said and done).

Regardless, sought after explicit confirmation or not, they do have something, something that is very much there to anyone who's willing to embrace it for what it is: mutual, queer love. And they're sooo real 🩷💛