#kaleidoscope series y/n

[greycaelum]

I have another question, sorry if I'm spamming 🫣 but I was wondering if Kouki has ever attended meetings with his parents as the heir to the Gojo family? And how are Reader, Kouki, and Saiki treated in the world of Jujutsu Kaisen as the wife and children of the "strongest" ?

Kaleidoscope Series—Clouds and Mochi Chapters: { Field Trip }

—Gojo Satoru X Wife Reader

𑁍 Genre: traditional clans, politics, parenthood

𑁍 WC/CW/TW: (1.2k)—/timeline where Satoru managed to accomplish his goal of resetting the jujutsu society, remnants of traditionalist clan, politics, Y/n's role as the Madame of Gojo Clan, Kouki and Saika are candidates for being the next clan head—/

𑁍 A/N: will be catching up to the piled-up asks one by one~

If someone told you a decade ago you will be seated in meetings of the Gosanke, meet and discuss matters with the prime minister regarding matters with the jujutsu society, or the one overseeing the Gojo Clan in Satoru's stead, you would laugh at them and tell them they got their heads in the clouds.

Yet perhaps, one cannot really talk with finality because fate seems to always like bending what seems to be impossible to possible.

After all what would they expect from a human with a not so significant amount of curse energy to manage the top family of the jujutsu clans? Much more to be the drive behind movements in the Gojo Clan, resulting in movement in the stagnant jujutsu society.

Many traditionalist clans spited Satoru for such "preposterous" action. While the minority saw it as progress. Either way, they have not much of a choice but to address you accordingly as the Madam of the Gojo Clan and treat you as the wife of Gojo Satoru.

"If you don't feel good, you can excuse yourself and go with Yuta Onii-chan. He's guarding outside." You held hands with an eight-year-old Kouki who is wearing his light blue traditional haori and hakama with the Gojo Clan crest whereas you wear a kurotomesode with five Gojo Clan crests signifying the formality of this meeting. "Whatever you hear in the meeting must stay in that room and will never be brought out, do you understand, sweetheart?"

"I will be fine. I will sit beside you and protect you, Mama." Kouki looked at you with a determined look on his face so much as if you were looking at Satoru.

"Really? Mama feels safe having you beside me today sweetheart." You gently pat his head and motion for your bodyguards to stand outside as you enter the meeting chambers of the Three Great Sorcerer Clans and the Higher-ups.

You walked in with a stolid greeting to everyone as you found your seat on the round table and Kouki sat one step behind you in an impeccable seiza form he perfected in his etiquette classes.

It seems no one has expected the young scion of the Gojo Clan today and didn't take long to point out your son's presence. The others greeted Kouki as he returned them politely, the others took some time to eye the son of Gojo Satoru before turning to you.

"This isn't a playground for kids to easily enter."

You glance at the vicious tone of a minor clan head, one of the few traditionalists who survived the crusade.

"He is eight years old, and done with his hakama-no-gi." You glance at your son wearing his kimono like any adult in this room, then back to the older man. "Borrowing my husband's words, it's a field trip."

"Gojo Y/n, this meeting is not for kids to attend. This regards confidential matters of the Jujutsu administration. What are you trying to do?" An elder man seconded the motion.

"Young as he is, my son is one of the candidates as heir to the Gojo Clan. He needs to learn. Unfortunately, my daughter is still young so she cannot attend yet." You smiled.

Kouki saw the disagreement and unsatisfied looks of the people around them.

This is probably why his father always looks haggard when talking about this formal stuff. Clenching his fists he kept his mouth shut and looked at the people around the table, imprinting their faces in the back of his head. If he wants to protect the people he loves, then he will need to do better than this. He needs to protect his Mama.

"Oh, Kouki. Are you here to accompany Y/n-san?" Maki, in her hakama and haori with the Zen'in Clan crest, entered the room and was surprised to see the kid sitting behind you.

"Maki-san, good morning." Kouki promptly nodded at his elder sister who sat beside his mother after ruffling his head.

"Y/n-san, good morning. The hamburger steak you sent yesterday was very delicious. Thank you." Maki smiled brightly at you and looked at the people around the table with narrowed eyes.

"The Daiginjo Sake you sent last week was so good too Maki-kun." You chuckled at the younger girl and whispered. "Satoru was knocked out with just one shot."

With the landscape of the Jujutsu clans extensively reformed from the succeeding wars and tragedies that rocked the society's long-term traditions and foundations, it has also been quite rocky but more open for change regarding the stigma and decisions the higher-ups must execute for more viable options regarding the non-sorcerers and sorcerers welfare.

You were focused in the meeting and had long discussions with the people present. Sooner or later you know Kouki will grow bored and you don't fault him if he wants to leave, after all, no matter how good a kid your eight-year-old son is, he is still a kid, too young to sit on seiza for hours straight.

"Kou-kun? Do you want some onigiri?" Yuta sneaked in a rice ball on the boy who sat straight with his hands on his thighs. "We can go out if you want."

"I will stay with Mama." Kouki couldn't fully understand what the elders were discussing but all he cares is that he can see you work and hold your ground in front of all these people so gracefully. You look so effortless as you handle the matters being thrown at you regardless of how heavy the topic is. You've always been a good communicator, unlike his Papa who can be very nonchalant.

An hour later the session took a break and everyone went out to get some fresh air.

"Sweetheart, your legs must hurt from all the sitting, let me see." You were surprised that Kouki managed to sit through the meeting without being fussy.

"Mama, when I grow up, I'll be like you." Kouki scrunched his nose when he felt how numb his legs had gotten from sitting like that. Your surprised eyes met his determined ones.

"Like me? You're gonna handle clan matters, Sweetheart?" You chuckled and took some snacks for Kouki and Yuta to eat.

"No... I'm gonna be calm and smart like you." He met your eyes. "And I'm gonna protect you."

"You don't wanna be like your Papa?" Satoru popped out of the corner, one hand tucked in the pockets of his slacks, the other carrying your four-year-old daughter with her glittery backpack and frilly yellow dress. "Don't you wanna be strong and handsome like Papa too, Kikufuku?"

Satoru walked by your side and set down Saika who immediately ran to hug you.

"Mama! I missed you."

"Satoru..." You hugged Saika but then sighed at your husband. "Why did you bring her here?"

Satoru shrugged, pulling up his blindfold, and exchanged it with his black glasses. From the slit of the glasses, he swept a sharp glance over the spectators who gathered on the corners since he came with his daughter. It was enough to turn them away. He's just making sure no one would bother you and his son and at the same time make a statement to anyone that would dare that he's watching over his family.

Satoru looks back at you and puts an arm around your waist. He glances down at his son who notices the people watching them as well. The boy certainly is observant more than what's expected of him. Good boy... He returned his eyes to you and just grinned.

"For field trip..."

Footnote:

Hakama-no-gi: Five year old boys celebrate this. When wearing a kimono was commonplace, boys would start wearing the hakama and those boys from a samurai family would wear a haori (jacket) over the hakama. This signifies that the boys have started their journey into adulthood.

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out the Masterlist for more

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned images(s) and songs(s) used, belongs to their respective owner(s)

General/Kaleidoscope Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @gummy-dummy @tender-rosiey @lexiene @nevermoresworld @loml-riri @pelicanpizza @emichou-chan

[moondirti]

animalic (3)

← chapter two // series masterlist

pairing: miguel o'hara x f!reader rating: mature word count: 2.2k summary: he's got a plan that neither of you like warnings: enemies to lovers, predator/prey dynamics, biting, bondage, temporary paralysis, concussions, miguel is not nice, no use of y/n notes: this was supposed to be longer but the cut off at the original point was super awkward. this chapter is super exciting for all you fang lovers out there

You really can’t catch a break. 

The city bustles with a verve rivalling your own, a kaleidoscope of luminescence dancing upon the glass facades of its skyscrapers. Their spires pierce the ink-dark cloak of night, and if you weren’t so busy running for your life, you’d stop to admire the way their aviation obstruction lights mimic the stars back home. 

(Everything has a trade off, you suppose. You remember what it was like as light pollution gave away to reveal the cosmos above, the beauty of it lost upon your own grief.)

Now, it’s fear – clinging like a shadowy spectre to your heels. The pavement is unforgiving beneath you, each step sending a jolt of energy through your bones. Despite it, you can’t go any faster. Sidewalks crowd with the humdrum of everyday life – people filtering out from work and bodegas, dressed in a slightly odd fashion, their clothes a reminder of your unfamiliar landscape. Car horns blend into one another, providing an unsteady tempo to the race of your heart. 

It’s disorienting, all of it. Times like these, you wish you’d been given the opportunity to hone your abilities. Stamina, flexibility. Web shooters in particular would have proved handy in avoiding the bustle of the ground. 

Of course, he has that advantage on you too. 

You can’t see Miguel, but you sense his proximity. It prods you, nipping at your flesh in a constant assault, intensifying goosebumps and raising hairs. Your spider sense usually doesn’t last this long, solely serving as a warning for immediate danger. Yet that’s just what he is, immediate. Dangerous. Predatory eyes track your every move, sourced from all directions. He’s everywhere; atop buildings, within alleys. Neon signs morph into twisted apparitions; serrated talons, red skulls. 

How did he track you down so fast? 

The day pass? 

You wonder if he’d brought back-up – whether there are other spider-heroes here who trust in his noble cause. Your anxiety triples, and passerby’s begin to warp too. Their hurried footsteps now strike discordant notes, amplifying your isolation. You think you see some tense their wrists, or unbutton their coats, ready to reveal their tailored suits and ensure the capture you’ve managed to evade thus far. 

It’s luck. It’s only ever been luck, and that fact changes depending on who you ask. You’ve never outsmarted him, never disabled him. You just so happen to have the power of being a pain in his ass. 

Something itches at you, though. A nagging sense of foreboding. His presence in the past has spurred chagrin, annoyance, and – admittedly – arousal. But the genuine terror that lights your nerves now is new. Perhaps because you understand him, are far more familiar with his pride than most. The logical part of you can predict that he won’t let you off so easily, not after your stunt with the kiss. You won’t – can’t – get away this time, even if it damn well nearly kills him. 

Any hope you had of a bargain dissipates, rolling back from shore and into the depths of an elusive sea. You jerk the rubber band off your wrist, throwing it into some undisclosed corner.

In a then desperate bid to throw him off, your path loses cohesion. Like a leaf seized by a tempest, you turn based on split-second instinct, weaving through the labyrinth of New York’s grid. Your body sways in frenzy, bolstered by pure adrenaline, which works to dim everything else. Your ribs haven’t fully healed yet – they’d taken a pretty bad beating upon your last fight with Miguel – but you can barely feel the ache as you focus purely on the task at hand. 

Your determination surges, recklessness taking hold of your rationale. Veering abruptly, you just about collide with the racing line of cars that flow at a green light. In fact, you think you do. Your skin prickles, and a taxi runs straight through you, blearing a loud honk all the while. Some vehicles break off, drifting around your form at the last minute. In your peripheral, you can see the glowing red of your pursuers web, stretched across the gap between two apartment complexes. 

Chest tightening, your breathing loses depth at the sight, shallowing to leave room for the distress that torrents up your system. You clamber up on the hoods of parked cars, using a mast arm pole to propel yourself forward. It’s a fruitless effort. You know it’s too late – have known it since he walked into that convenience, prowling in search of one thing. 

(A lion only catches its prey a quarter of the time. But that twenty-five percent?)

Your ankle is the first victim to his hardwearing web, wrapped in the silk and pulled out from underneath you. The back of your head smacks into the concrete below, a high pitched ring reverberating through your skull upon impact. The collision sends a shock wave of pain throughout your being, and in that harrowing moment, everything stutters to a crawl. Spots speckle behind your clenched eyelids, metallic warmth flooding your mouth.

Well, fuck. 

To add insult to injury, your atoms rip apart and splice into one another, a consequence of your abandoned day pass. The glitch aggravates the headache that begins to pound at you. You’d allowed yourself to forget how bad it could be. 

The willpower that had just played a forefront in your mind steadily starts to trickle out, absorbed by your humiliation and the ground below. 

“You really gonna give up that easily?” 

Yes. 

You make a point to never lie to yourself. In truth, you won’t ever get enough of Miguel’s cadence. Deep and resonant – it smoulders with a charred ruggedness. Commanding attention, rumbling like distant thunder, an unmistakable authority woven into each word. Yet, even amidst the rough contours, there lingers a softness, a subtle grace that soothes the edges of his threats. 

(Sharp claws, sharp teeth, sharp cheekbones. Soft voice.)

More webs bind you, erupting from an unclear point to circle your legs, chest, and secure your arms behind your back. You’re diminished to little more than an aggravated caterpillar, ensnared in a spider’s web. And, just as his little game of bondage draws to a close, said spider stalks within view, splitting through the crowd that quickly forms around the commotion. 

With his mask on, he stands as completely impenetrable. You, on the other hand, try to reduce your quivering the best you can, afraid of relaying how truly pathetic you feel. 

“Maybe I’m biding my time.” You bite back, calling on a complete bluff. “I’m sure you know how good I am at that?” It’s a low blow. Even if you could control when and where to phase out, you wouldn’t get very far before he catches up to you again. 

But Miguel doesn’t waver in his closing in – not until he towers over you, looking down at your incapacitated state. Space buckles under the gravity of his existence; you, too, can feel yourself sinking, drawn in closer by the credence that bubbles off him in flares. You wish you had a cover – your pair of makeshift goggles, a face mask, anything that could elevate you to a degree relative to his. But you’re bare, figuratively naked, and you’ve never hated him more. 

He lingers, assessing you, weighing his options. The moment he turns to survey the mass of people who look on inquisitively, you wiggle upward into a sitting position, then throw your head forwards, aiming for his crotch. His wrist gets in the way, though, blocking your pitiful attack on his only defenceless area. Your forehead cracks against his dimensional travel watch, shattering its screen. 

“Tu puta madre!” Miguel hisses, snapping back to survey the gadget while you begin to slink away. He seems to have an eye on you, however, because you’re tugged back just as soon as you make the effort.

Like a naughty cat. You shift uncomfortably at the thought. 

“Are you gonna spend all night deciding what to do with me, then? I have plans, even if you don’t.” 

“Plans. I have plans alright.” The low timbre of his threat slices you where it hurts.

With a calculated flex of his shoulders, he crouches down, gathering the webs around your arms. They serve as leverage when he hauls you upward, exercising his muscles – of which you’d suspected had been padding up to this point – with one swift motion. The world upends on itself, nausea enveloping your senses with its oppressive weight. It allows space for little else; not the uncertainty, not the trepidation. You divert all your efforts on keeping your scarce lunch down, accepting the possibility of a concussion by product of his less-than-refined manhandling. 

The journey to wherever he takes you is not at all long enough for you to recover. Before you know it, he’s busting through the creaky door of an empty storelot, carelessly tossing you to the floor. Your vision doubles. 

Yeah. Definitely a concussion. 

Like you could afford one right now. 

“You’ll stay, and you’ll listen.” He points an accusatory finger. 

“Sure. Until I’ve had enough, that is.” 

“And where would you go, exactly?” 

“Nice try, O’hara. Like I’d tell you,” Snickering, you let your head roll to face the ceiling. The action sends you back to earlier, to the robbery you’ve been seeking to suppress. How careless you’d been, letting your fortune to date trick you into thinking that any collateral was safe too. You’d killed that woman. You. “Maybe I’ll fall right through the floor. That way, you’ll never have to worry about seeing me again.” 

The notion makes him pause mid-pace, hands on his hips, tilting his head to look at you with what you imagine is the most earnest glare. The air bobs, suspended in static tension, a crackling constant that only unravels once he seems to make up his mind. 

Marching forward, he drags you along with him to a nearby wall, upon which he then pushes you upward until you have to look down to meet his eyeline. Your bound legs kick forward, but the struggle hardly affects him. 

“I didn’t want to resort to this.” 

You assume he means treating you like a toddler does its shiny new toy, hurling you across this playpen of a city. “You really didn’t have to, then.” 

He stays quiet, fists clenching tighter around you. 

“I suppose we’re past the courtesy of letting the other recover from the last fight before starting a new one? My forearm is still fucked, thanks to you. Maybe if you’d given it some time, I would’ve proved more of a challenge today.” Your words, whilst never your most steadfast allies, betray you in lieu of this restlessness, tumbling forth with unruly incoherence.

Miguel's mask pulls back, the nanotech collapsing to just above his adams apple. Your mouth moves faster. 

“Okay, I get it. The fate of the multiverse and all that. I’ll listen, whatever you want, but at least try and make the lecture original.” 

His hand cups your jaw, tightening around your chin to firmly guide it upwards. Your throat stretches taut at the motion, its smooth expanse spread across the wall – an evening repast for a party of one. The imagery breaks down an all too sobering realisation into fragments small enough for you to register. His talons rest against your cheek, bordering perilously close to your waterline. 

Traces of that patchouli aftershave hit you. His skin looks especially bronzed in the dark, highlighted at the edges from the phosphorescence outside. His curls droop where they’re plastered to a sweat slicked hairline. 

You can’t help it. Your gaze flickers down to those plush lips.

Fuck. Fuck. It’d felt so good to kiss them. 

Please let this just be a kiss. 

“O-Or go with the… the usual, y’know. I don’t–” 

Miguel lunges, sinking his fangs into the fleshy sinew of your neck.

Christ.

Your jaw hangs open, but no breaths filter in. Shock wedges itself at the site of his bite, implacable, steadfast as a barrier between logic and uninhibited emotion. Your reasoning plays no part in this, provides absolutely no valuable contribution to the series of reactions you undergo. 

It’s physical, first. The cold slither of paralytic venom distends through your nerves, neurotoxins striking their functions, rendering them useless beyond the point of sensation. Which, you’d say, is the cruellest part. Miguel’s poison doesn’t stop you from feeling anything; not the puncture, nor the burn. You can truly feel it, trekking its graceful path to all muscles in your body, taking hold of the tissue, suppressing their vitality. Your back arches, your body doing its very best to fight what it cannot prevent. It cracks up your bone, down your spine. Your toes unfurl, fingers loosening to hang lamely at your side. 

And, when you lose all executive authority over yourself, you’re pulled in to centre on his mouth again. His canines slowly retract, tongue taking their place. It’s warm – so fucking warm – and dextrous, covertly lathering the blood that beads down your nape. 

Your last proper breath is wasted on a whine; a loud, keening, absolutely wanton whine. After it, you can do nothing but hold your flat inhales to cycle in as much oxygen as possible – diaphragm weak, your resolve weaker.

Miguel draws away, letting you slump to the floor, heavy and just as useless as a sack of flour. He wipes the excess carmine from his chin, kneeling to regard your glassy eyed stare. 

“Fall through now, and you’re as good as dead.” 

(You might as well already be.)

chapter four →

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[cupid-styles]

daisy 3 - the epilogue (english profrry x quiet TA!yn)

the final part!! sorry it took forever for me to finish this series. I really hope you guys enjoyed it and like this little part that wraps everything up :)

part one | part two

word count: 2.9k

content warnings: inappropriate relationship, minor age gap (4 years), not ramadan friendly

main masterlist | talk to me

. . .

Y/N and Harry shift into a relationship — or what feels like one — faster than either could have ever anticipated. 

In hindsight, Y/N supposes it makes sense. They’d been suppressing romantic and intimate feelings for each other and now that it’d all come to a peak (no pun intended), tangled between Y/N’s cotton sheets, it felt oddly… natural.

The entire thing made her warm with happiness, a busy kaleidoscope of butterflies fluttering through her tummy every time she even thought of waking up next to Harry. They hadn’t had another sleepover since that evening, and admittedly, she’d been a bit scared that she would wake up to rushed apologies and explanations of “I need to get out of here, this was a mistake”, but it had been quite the opposite. 

The following morning, when her sleepy eyes cracked open, she felt a warm weight pressed up against her back. It took her a moment to come to, but when she did, she remembered the strenuous activities from the night prior, and blushed and rolled over to find the object of her affection waking up from his own deep sleep. 

“Morning,” he’d croaked before smiling through puffy eyes. “Can I make you breakfast?”

That had been two weeks ago, and it seemed like the cotton candy cloud they were floating on had yet to touch the ground.

It went without saying that they were still extremely careful on campus — however, now that the temperatures were shifting into a more comfortable number, jackets were being shed and bright tulip bulbs and crocuses were beginning to pop up from the moist soil. They were telltale signs that spring was steadily bolting their way, which meant that the end of the semester was, too. Between the hopeful weather and the pastel-hued beginnings of a relationship between the two, it was enough to pull Y/N from the inklings of her seasonal depression and Harry from his own existential dread. 

In short: It was good. Things were finally good, even if they hadn’t talked things through or officially decided on what they were doing yet. Y/N thinks she was okay with that, as long as it meant she was on the receiving end of Harry’s gentle kisses or his sweet goodnight texts. 

Yeah. She could most definitely live with that.

. . .

“I found a kitten last night.”

The words make Y/N blink her eyes open. Their lips hadn’t even been fully disconnected by the time his words were ghosting over the seam of her mouth, an apparent eagerness to verbalize this new development from the past 24 hours. 

“Oh?” Y/N asks with a quirked brow, fingertips focused on the feeling of his soft knit cardigan. 

“When I was taking the garbage out,” he quickly explains. “She was hiding behind the trash cans.”

“She?”

Harry shifts from foot to foot and Y/N immediately identifies his body language as nervousness — he’s nervous to tell her about this cat he found near his building complex, and the thought, for some reason, makes her body bubble with giggles. 

“I looked to see if she had a collar or tag or anything and she doesn’t. I took her in and washed her off. She was starving, but I was thinking of taking her to the vet when I leave campus today.”

Y/N hums, “Well if she was starving and dirty, it’s a good thing she found you.”

A pinkish flush flowers over Harry’s cheeks and he shrugs his shoulders. “The vet in town is always swamped with college kids impulsively adopting animals. I was thinking of taking her to the one a bit further away.”

“Oh, that’s smart,” Y/N nods, tugging the strap of her tote bag a little closer to her body. Harry normally isn’t so slow in his goodbyes to her, and she really needs to get to the library to work on an essay outline. 

“Will you come with me?”

Her eyebrows nearly fly up to the ceiling. They’ve never done anything in public together — not since they saw each other at Target a few months back, and that doesn’t even count because they weren’t seeing each other back then. It was something that made Y/N toss and turn at night. She knew that in the eyes of the university, their relationship was forbidden — neither of them were that dim to understand that — but in any other context, there was no reason why a couple of their age couldn’t be together. It sometimes made her wish that they did meet under different circumstances, like at a bar or even swiping right on a dating app. 

“I was thinking maybe you could stay over afterwards, because the only appointment they had available for this evening was at 7 pm and I’m not sure how late we would get back,” Harry tacks on, and the addition only makes her stomach continue to swarm with nervous butterflies. “You can say no. I just thought it would be nice. A stay-at-home date, maybe.”

She’s nodding like a robot before her brain even allows her the opportunity to think it over. And yeah, call her childish, maybe, but the thought of him calling it a date — she supposes this is the closest they can get to one in the near future — makes her heart skip a beat.

“That does sound nice,” she agrees with a smile. “Do you want to pick me up at 6? I’ll… I can pack a bag and we’ll go from the vet to yours later on?”

He nods, mirroring her own enthusiastic grin. “Okay.”

. . .

After a marathon at the library (she was in the beginning stages of doing research on a comparative essay on Emily Brontë’s work), Y/N trekked back to her apartment, stuffed some food down her throat, showered, and packed a bag for Harry’s. 

She was a little nervous — okay, maybe fairly nervous, considering the last time they did anything close to this, it had all been very spur of the moment. Things weren’t awkward because of it (it was the opposite, actually), but the rest of their relationship had been spent in Harry’s tiny office. They played footsies while they graded, ordered takeout to the English building while they spoke about their days, and snuck loved-up smiles when they passed each other on campus, but this felt more… finite, maybe. Real. Like they could exist outside the confines of their university.

Harry texts her when he’s on his way and then when he’s downstairs at 6 o’clock on the dot (here xx, which makes Y/N’s heart flutter). She has her usual purse on one shoulder and a tote bag on the other, where she’s packed pajamas for the night, an outfit for tomorrow, and all of her toiletries. She swallows as she locks the front door and turns to see the familiar navy sedan parked right outside, biting her lip when she sees the curly haired brunette in the driver’s seat. 

“Hey,” he greets the second she gets in the car. She flashes him a smile, though his own facial expression exudes an air of nervousness, “Do you know much about cats?” 

“Um, my sister brought a stray in when we were kids. We only kept her for a few days, but I guess I know a little.”

Harry nods, “I’m scared she’s anxious back there. I tried to make the carrier as comfortable as possible for her, but she’s probably nervous, right? She’s in a weird guy’s car and she doesn’t know where she’s going.”

Y/N breathes out a laugh as she twists her body to look in the backseat. Low and behold, there’s a brand new carrier with a small kitten inside. She coos at its salt and pepper fur as she unlocks the gate, gently reaching in to grab the cat. She can’t be larger than a few pounds, and Harry’s right about her being nervous — she’s trembling, whether it be from the confusion of the situation or an issue the vet will likely tell them about. 

“Here, I’ll hold her for the ride,” Y/N murmurs, pressing a delicate kiss to the top of her head, “She just needs some love, hm?” 

“She kept slipping on the hardwood floors in my apartment last night. I felt so bad.” Harry replies as he puts the car in drive, a slight pout on his lips. Y/N laughs lightly at the thought, stroking her forefinger over the kitten’s back. 

“Poor baby,” she glances up at Harry, blinking when she realizes he’d been glimpsing down between them and the road, “Did you think of any names for her?”

He coughs and flicks his right signal on, “Um, yeah. I thought of a few. Haven’t really decided on anything yet, though. I guess it depends on whether or not the vet thinks it’s a good idea to keep her.”

“Sure,” Y/N hums, though she can already tell from her brief knowledge of pets that the likelihood of this little kitten having a home is slim. She’s tiny and underweight and doesn’t have a collar, which means she probably isn’t chipped, either. “I think you’d do well as a cat dad. Maybe you can adopt if this little one doesn’t work out.”

“You think so?”

A small smile cracks at the edges of Y/N lips. It’s apparent that Harry’s scared and needs some sort of reassurance from someone, and she’s happy to be the provider. “Of course I do. I think you have a lot of love to give, Harry.”

She watches as his throat bobs before his own lips form a gentle smile. 

“Yeah. I think I do, too.” 

He reaches over and carefully intertwines their fingers together. When she gives his hand a small squeeze, she thinks she sees his body visibly relax. 

. . .

As Y/N anticipated, the kitten Harry found doesn’t belong to anyone. 

The vet does a thorough check-up and the results are relatively positive; she’s just on the malnourished side and will need a lot of food, love, and care to get her to a place where she’s considered to be healthy. She advises Harry to bring the cat back in a month to do another weigh-in just to make sure her diet is nutritionally-dense enough, and he has no problem agreeing. 

Y/N scoops the kitten up and gently scratches and pets at the back of her head as Harry talks to the receptionist, supplying information about his name and phone number for the follow-up appointment. It’s only when he’s asked for the kitten’s name that he somewhat freezes. Y/N peers up, assuming he’s just nervous because he hasn’t settled on anything yet. It’s understandable, she supposes — if her parents had let her and her sister keep that kitten from their childhood, they probably would have named it “Princess Muffins” or “Little Lady Kisses”, which Y/N just thinks is embarrassing for the cat.

“Ophelia,” he murmurs lowly before coughing into his hand. The receptionist doesn’t question it as she quickly types it in, but it makes Y/N’s eyebrows raise. She continues scratching at Harry’s newly named cat, using her blunt fingernails to slowly rub the patches of fur behind her ears. She’s not sure if she’s being too fussy and self-centered, but if she remembers correctly, the first time she and Harry met, they talked about how Ophelia from Hamlet was a big inspiration for Y/N’s capstone project. She shrugs it off, especially when they’re done at the vet and they step into the low light of the evening. Silently, they walk side-by-side and back to Harry’s car. 

Daylight savings, despite being a stupid concept, arrived just a few weeks prior, which means they’re now privy to a few more hours of daylight before night stretches over the sky. It’s nice — spring hasn’t completely sprung up yet, but there are little reminders here and there that it’s coming. It isn’t freezing tonight but there’s a slight chill in the air, so both she and Harry are bundled up beneath cozy crewneck sweatshirts. He pulls the sleeves of his over his knuckles and the small action makes Y/N’s heart squeeze.

“Are you fine to hold her on the drive back?” Harry asks once they’re back in his car. She nods happily, content with having a small, cuddly kitten curl up on her lap for the next 30 minutes. The evening sunlight bathes the interior of the vehicle as Harry pulls out of his parking spot, flicking on his left blinker to take them back to his place. 

“D’you wanna get Thai for dinner?” Y/N asks, suppressing a yawn as she turns her head to look at the male beside her. Again, she watches as his muscles melt a bit, less rigid than they were just a moment or two before, and a smile edges at his lips as he nods his head. 

“That sounds great. Could go for some pad thai.”

“Mm, me too,” she agrees, taking her phone out to pull up the ordering app, “Can we split some dumplings, too?”

“I’d love that.”

She smiles to herself and they chat aimlessly and quietly about their respective orders, each of them deciding on noodle dishes (Harry opts for a veggie-only option while Y/N picks shrimp) and an order of mushroom dumplings. She asks if he’s vegetarian or trying to be — she presumes it’d be a rather important thing to know about the person she’s… dating? Casually seeing? What were they doing? — but he shrugs noncommittally, as he does for many questions she asks. It’s almost as if he’s not used to people asking him about his likes and preferences, and she thinks that’s dumb. She wants to know everything there is to know about him. 

When she prods him about his vegetable forward habits, he finally explains that no, he’s not a vegetarian, but he likes to eat meat-free when he can. This prompts her to ask him about his other tastes: His favorite ice cream flavor (Ben & Jerry’s Phish Food, which she approves of), his favorite flowers (pink tulips because his mom used to grow them), and his go-to drink when he goes out (“I never go out, I’m an old man, but I am partial to a tequila soda”). 

Her time playing 20 Questions is finally up after he picks up their food and they arrive back at his place. By now, the sun has fully retreated and Ophelia is sound asleep in Y/N’s lap. When he puts the car in park, he stops her before they go inside. 

“Why are you asking me all these things?” he asks with a wrinkle between his eyebrows. She resists the urge to reach out and smooth it with her thumb.

“I just wanna know. I’m curious.” she replies, shrugging.

“You wanna know about the first album I ever bought and how old I was when I had my first kiss?”

“Of course I do,” she pauses, confused. “Why? Do you not want me to know those things?”

He shakes his head. “No, no. I just… I don’t know. I’m surprised.”

“I don’t know how much more forward I can be with my feelings,” she says softly, nibbling on her bottom lip, “I know this is technically against the rules or whatever, but… I like you. You know that, right? That what I feel for you goes beyond sex and some silly fantasy.”

She watches as he swallows tightly. 

“I like you too,” he murmurs, reaching out to take her free hand into his. “I’m sorry I let my insecurities get the best of me but it’s just… odd, I guess, to imagine that you really, truly like me. I sound like a middle schooler, god—”

“Don’t do that.” she quickly shakes her head. If it weren’t for Ophelia still perched atop her thighs, she’d reach forward and take his face between her hands. “Don’t belittle yourself. I like you, Harry. So much that I’m willing to risk my status as a student. You get that, don’t you?”

“Of course,” he nods swiftly, “And you understand what I’m risking, right?”

It’s not meant to be a one-up — it’s genuine and it’s real, and she nods her head and swallows the small lump of tears that’s developed in her throat. It’s the reality of their relationship and it’s necessary to address, especially if either one of them wants to go any further. 

With Harry, he has more to lose. He’d be fired, of course, but his degrees could be taken into question, too. His license as a professor. Everything he’s worked for, all potentially wasted on Y/N.

It’s a heavy weight for her to wear.

But, as if he can read her mind (or maybe he can just read her facial expression), he gives her hand a squeeze. 

“And you’re more than worth it, Y/N.” he says with soft eyes. 

“Will you be my boyfriend?” she blurts out without thinking. Her eyes immediately widen while Harry’s crease with happiness, and she’d contemplate taking back if not for the massive grin that stretches across his face. 

“Truly, I thought you’d never ask,” he replies cheekily, and Y/N responds with a gentle swat to the chest. He laughs. “I did name my cat after you, after all.”

. . .

That night, when Harry has Ophelia tucked into one side and Y/N into the other, and she’s half-asleep as they watch another episode of whatever docuseries she convinced him to turn on, after they’ve eaten themselves into a Thai food coma and talked about the latest books they’ve read with promises to exchange them, he realizes he’s never been so happy in his life. 

Y/N can comfortably say the same. 

[p4p1l0nn]

triple lee; naughtier the better.

── part one. two. three. mlist. wc: 9.1k

pairing: plug!haechan x plug!mark x stoner!reader x stoner!jeno

content warning: 18+ unprotected sex, humping, thigh riding, masturbation, explicit smut, etc, mdni.

a/n: introducing the first part of the triple lee series! starting off slow, but trust me, it gets better. happy reading ♡

like any other friday night, the air in the dimly lit room was thick with anticipation and the pungent smell of marijuana. you stood amidst a throng of people, their laughter mingling with the pulsating beat of the music.

neon lights danced across the walls, casting ever changing shadows that seemed to mirror the shifting moods of the partygoers.

your senses were alive with the sensory overload of the party — the taste of the cheap beer on their lips, the rhythmic vibrations coursing through their body, the kaleidoscope of colors swirling before their eyes — a flashback revealed how it all began.

earlier that day, you had been lounging on your couch, enjoying a rare moment of peace, when your phone buzzed with a text message from haechan.

“party at my place tonight. you better be there or else,” the message read, accompanied by a string of emoji depicting various threats, including a clown face and a pile of poo.

rolling your eyes, you fired back a response. “thanks, but i think i'll pass tonight.”

haechan's reply came swiftly, filled with exaggerated indignation. “absolutely not. you're coming, and that's final. besides, we haven't seen you in ages. it'll be fun, i promise!”

just as you were about to protest further, another message from haechan popped up on your phone. “oh, and by the way, mark’s gonna be there too, with his new stash, sure you don't want to come?” he added with a winking emoji, knowing full well that you had a soft spot for quality cannabis.

grumbling to yourself, you couldn't help but feel a twinge of curiosity at the prospect of trying out some new strains. with a resigned sigh, you typed out a reluctant response. "fine, fine. i'll be there. but you owe me big time for this."

knowing full well that haechan's version of "fun" often involved copious amounts of alcohol and questionable decision-making.

and here you are, finding yourself swept up in the chaos of the party, surrounded by friends and strangers alike. you can't help but shake your head at the absurdity of it all. if only haechan hadn't resorted to such drastic measures to ensure your attendance. but then again, where's the fun in a quiet night at home?

cursing under your breath, "that shithead," you're suddenly interrupted when someone taps on the right side of your shoulder, earning your attention. turning to see who it is, you're met with the mischievous grin of your friend, mark, who's known as one of the infamous plugs in town. “well, well, well, look who decided to grace us with her presence,” he teases, a playful twinkle in his eye.

you roll your eyes at his comment, but can't help but smile at his familiar antics. "yeah, yeah, laugh it up," you retort, playfully nudging him with your elbow. "what's up, mark? selling your goods at the party now?" you ask with a smirk, knowing full well his reputation as the go-to guy for quality cannabis.

mark chuckles, reaching into his pocket to produce a small pouch filled with an assortment of colorful buds. "you know it," he replies with a wink, "got something special for you tonight. it's a new hybrid strain called 'purple haze dream.' trust me, you're gonna love it." intrigued, you lean in closer to get a whiff of the aroma, already feeling a sense of anticipation building within you.

"purple haze dream," mark begins, his voice taking on a more serious tone as he delves into the details. "it's a hybrid strain, a cross between purple haze and dream queen. the aroma is something else - hints of sweet berries and citrus with a subtle earthy undertone. when you take that first hit, you'll notice how smooth it is, no harshness at all."

you nod, listening intently as mark continues. "as for the effects, it's a balanced hybrid, so you'll get the best of both worlds. the purple haze brings a euphoric, uplifting high that'll have you feeling creative and energized, while the dream queen adds a calming, relaxing touch that'll melt away any stress or tension."

you can practically taste the flavors and feel the effects just from mark's description alone. "sounds amazing," you reply, a hint of excitement creeping into your voice. "can't wait to try it out."

mark grins, clearly pleased with your enthusiasm. "you're gonna love it, dude, trust me. just let me know if you need anything else."

"thanks, mark. really appreciate it," you say, genuinely grateful for his assistance. "i've been meaning to catch up with you anyway. it's been a while since i've restocked."

mark nods, a thoughtful expression crossing his face. "yeah, it has been months, hasn't it?" he replies, a hint of curiosity in his voice. "you used to be one of my most loyal customers. what happened?"

you pause, taken aback by the question. "oh, you know, life gets busy," you respond with a shrug, trying to play it off casually. "i've just been trying to cut back a bit, you know?"

but the truth is, it's not just about cutting back on cannabis consumption. it's about the struggle to make ends meet after your three roommates moved out to live with their partners.

living alone for the first time in years, you're faced with the daunting task of shouldering the rent and bills all on your own. gone are the days when splitting expenses with your roommates made everything easy. now, every dollar counts, and you find yourself scrimping and saving wherever you can. you even took up odd jobs like dog-walking and freelance writing to make ends meet, but it's still not enough.

you shake off the weight of your worries as mark's next words draw you back to the present. "cutting back, huh? or maybe you've found a new plug?" he teases, a playful smirk tugging at the corners of his lips.

you can't help but laugh at his suggestion. "oh, please," you retort, shaking your head in amusement. "as if anyone could ever replace you, mark."

mark chuckles, seemingly satisfied with your response. "that's what i like to hear," he replies, his tone lightening once more. "but hey, no hard feelings. just know that i've always got the good stuff whenever you need it."

you nod, a faint grin playing on your lips. "sounds good. i'll keep that in mind. might have to restock sooner than i thought." you pauses, considering your next words carefully. "by the way, if you ever come across any new strains or anything interesting, let me know. always up for trying something different."

mark lets out a hearty laugh, his grin widening. "always on the lookout for something special for my girl," he says with a playful wink.

"smoke break?" mark suggests with a nod towards the balcony, his eyes twinkling with mischief.

you chuckle to yourself, muttering, "man will always be man," before nodding in agreement. "sounds good," you reply, feeling a sudden urge to break away from the crowd and enjoy a moment of solitude.

as you make your way to the balcony, you can't help but feel a sense of relief wash over you. the chaos of the party fades into the background as you step outside into the cool night air, the sounds of laughter and music muffled by the distance. leaning against the railing, you take a deep breath, feeling the weight of the world lift from your shoulders.

reaching into your pocket, you retrieve the pouch of "purple haze dream" that mark gave you earlier. with trembling fingers, you carefully roll a joint, savoring the ritualistic process as you grind the buds and wrap them in paper.

it's been too long since you've indulged in such a simple pleasure, and you find yourself growing increasingly excited at the prospect of experiencing the effects of the strain firsthand.

chugging down the last of your drink, you flick your cigarette butt off the balcony and light up the joint, taking a long, slow drag. the smoke fills your lungs, sending a wave of relaxation coursing through your body. closing your eyes, you let out a contented sigh, feeling the tension melt away with each exhale.

the flavors dance across your palate, exactly as mark had described earlier - each puff of the joint a symphony of sensations. the sweet berries and citrus notes burst forth, tantalizing your taste buds with their vibrant intensity, while the subtle earthy undertone adds a depth and richness that lingers on your tongue. it's a truly exquisite blend, unlike anything you've ever tasted before, and you find yourself marveling at the complexity of flavors with each inhale.

as the smoke swirls around you, you feel yourself being transported to another world, a realm of pure bliss and euphoria. your senses are heightened, every sound, every color, every sensation amplified to almost overwhelming levels. it's as if you're floating on a cloud, weightless and free, with nothing but the warm embrace of the night air to anchor you to reality.

but even as you revel in the intoxicating effects of the cannabis, a part of you wonders if it's just the smoke itself that's making you feel so high, or if it's the combination of the drinks you've been consuming for hours now. either way, you couldn't care less. in this moment, lost in the haze of smoke, you feel alive in a way you haven't in ages.

with a contented sigh, you take another drag from the joint, letting the smoke fill your lungs and wash over you in waves of pure euphoria.

"well, that was hot," mark remarks from beside you, his voice cutting through the silence of the night.

you open your eyes to see mark smirking at you, his eyes twinkling with amusement. chuckling, you pass the joint to him. "you wish," you retort playfully, enjoying the easy banter between you.

mark takes a drag from the joint, exhaling a cloud of smoke into the night air. "hey, a guy can dream, can't he?" he replies with a grin.

you laugh, shaking your head at his antics. "dream on, mark," you tease.

before mark can reply, his phone suddenly rings, and he pauses mid-sentence, locking eyes with you as he reaches into his pocket to answer the call.

"yo, what's good?" mark says into the phone, his tone shifting to a more business-like demeanor. as he listens to the voice on the other end, his expression grows more serious, his brows furrowing in concentration.

studying him intently, you realize just now how good looking mark is. his chiseled jawline, piercing eyes, and confident demeanor make him stand out in any crowd. you understand why he's the infamous plug in town - with a face like that, a body like that, it's no wonder he's so well known and respected.

or maybe it's the effect of the smoke or the drink or whatever it was. trying to rationalize the sudden intensity of your attraction towards mark. but damn, he's breathtakingly beautiful and hot. sexy, if you may add.

as your thoughts wander, you can't help but imagine what it would be like to be with him intimately. you picture his strong arms wrapped around you, his lips trailing kisses along your neck as he whispers sweet nothings in your ear. the mere thought sends shivers down your spine, igniting a fire deep within you.

you wonder how it would feel to be pressed against him, skin against skin, feeling the heat of his body mingling with yours. you imagine his hands exploring every inch of your body, sending waves of pleasure coursing through you with each touch.

and then, your mind drifts to more dangerous thoughts - how skilled he must be in bed, how he knows just the right buttons to push to drive you wild with desire. you can almost hear his voice, husky with passion, as he whispers promises of pleasure and ecstasy.

shaking your head to clear away the daring images, you take another drag from the joint, hoping to banish the fantasies that threaten to consume you. but deep down, you know that the allure of mark's undeniable charm and charisma will linger long after the smoke dissipates, leaving you craving more of his intoxicating presence.

"yeah, i’m a bit strapped for your regular at the moment,” mark admitted, his tone casual. “but hey, i can hook you up with someone else– you really need it, huh?” he added, chuckling lightly. “alright, meet me at the usual in fifteen.”

turning his attention back to you, mark offers an apologetic smile. "sorry about that," he says, his tone sincere. “got a customer who’s eager to meet up. can’t leave them hanging, you know how it is,” he glanced at his phone, typing out a quick message to confirm the meet up. “would you like to come along? figured it might be a nice change of scenery.”

you nod in agreement, feeling grateful for the opportunity to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the party. "yeah, that sounds like a plan," you reply, mustering up a smile of your own. "i could use some fresh air."

the drive wasn't long, taking about fifteen to twenty minutes to reach the destination. you find yourselves in a quiet neighborhood, the streets dimly lit by the occasional streetlamp. the houses are close together, with narrow alleys snaking between them. it's the kind of place where you can imagine secrets lurking in every shadow.

as he pull up to the curb, you notice a figure standing on the sidewalk, dressed in a hoodie and a cap pulled low over their face. despite the dim light, you can see mark's face light up with recognition as he eagerly greets the man, extending his arms for a bro hug.

it's fascinating to see another side of mark, one that exists outside of the party scene and the role of the infamous plug in town.

just as mark points in your direction, signaling for his friend to see you, your phone buzzes with a notification. pulling it out of your pocket, you see a drunken text from haechan, filled with typos and nonsensical ramblings.

"heyy y/n! m missing u at the partyy :( wen r u coming back? we need more of ur dance moves lololol," the message reads, accompanied by a string of laughing emojis.

rolling your eyes at haechan's antics, you quickly type out a reply before slipping your phone back into your pocket.

just as you're about to look back to where mark was, both he and the mysterious figure have vanished into the shadows. you're about to shrug it off when suddenly, the door to the driver's seat bursts open, startling you.

you let out a yelp of surprise, instinctively jerking away from the sudden intrusion. heart racing, you turn to see mark slipping into the seat beside you, a mischievous grin on his face.

"mark, what the hell?" you exclaim.

mark chuckles, his laughter filling the car. "should've seen the look on your face," he says, wiping away a tear of laughter from his eye. "priceless."

you can't help but join in his laughter, feeling a surge of adrenaline coursing through your veins.

as you catch your breath, mark reaches over and pats you on the shoulder reassuringly. "sorry about that, dude," he says, his tone genuine. "just couldn't resist messing with you a little."

you shake your head, unable to suppress a smile. "yeah, yeah, very funny," you reply, playfully rolling your eyes at him. "just don't make a habit of it, okay?"

mark chuckles at your response, the mischievous glint still dancing in his eyes. "no promises," he teases, winking at you before pulling away from the curb.

the feeling of fuzziness settling over you, a lingering effect of the smoke and drinks from earlier. despite the cool night air streaming through the open window, you can't seem to shake the foggy sensation clouding your thoughts.

"actually, mark, do you mind if we skip the rest of the night?" you ask, your voice tinged with exhaustion. "i'm feeling a bit fuzzy, and i think i just want to head back home."

mark nods understandingly, his expression softening with concern. "of course, i got you, dude," he replies, his tone gentle.

as you finally pull up to your apartment building, you thank mark for his kindness before stepping out into the cool night air. however, just as you're about to close the door, a sudden thought strikes you.

"hey, mark," you call out, leaning back into the car. "before i forget, how much did you say the goods were?"

mark grins, reaching into his pocket to pull out a small notebook. "ah, right," he replies, flipping through the pages. "for you, i can do a special deal. how about fifty for an eighth?"

you nod, impressed by the offer. "that sounds pretty reasonable," you reply, "and how soon could you have it ready for me?"

"i can have it ready for you by tomorrow afternoon," he assures you, "freshly harvested and ready to go."

you smile, feeling a surge of excitement at the prospect of stocking up on such a high-quality strain. "sounds perfect," you say, reaching into your pocket to retrieve your wallet. "consider it a done deal."

the next day starts off hectic as you wake up to find a letter slipped under your door. your heart sinks as you read the words written on the paper. it's a notice from the landlord, reminding you of your pending rent and warning of potential consequences if it's not paid soon.

feeling a wave of stress wash over you, you sit down on the edge of your bed, clutching the letter in your hands. how could you have let things get this bad? with your mind racing with worries about eviction and financial struggles, you realize that you need to find a solution - and fast.

just as you're about to spiral further into despair, your phone rings, interrupting your thoughts. it's haechan, calling you just in time, as if he were a heaven-sent messenger.

"babe," haechan exclaims cheerfully. "listen, i was just thinking, do you happen to have enough room for three grown men?"

you can't help but laugh at the coincidence of his question. "actually, haechan, funny you should ask," you reply, your voice tinged with relief. "i could use some roommates right about now. things have been a bit tight lately."

haechan's excitement is palpable through the phone. "bingo! i've got the perfect roommates in mind," he says eagerly. "i'll send them over to check out the place later today if that's alright with you."

you nod, feeling grateful for haechan's timely intervention. "sounds good to me," you say, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders. "thanks, bud. i owe you one."

"yeah, you do, because i'm part of that three grown men," haechan replies, his voice full of mischief. "see you later!"

time ticks by quickly as you go about your day, running errands and tidying up your apartment in anticipation of your new roommates' arrival. you're lost in a whirlwind of activity, barely noticing the hours slipping away until you're jolted out of your thoughts by the sound of the doorbell ringing.

with a quick glance at the clock, you realize that it's already later than you expected. hastily wiping your hands on a dish towel, you rush to answer the door.

as you swing the door open, you're taken aback by the sight of the first person standing on your doorstep. he gives off a slightly cold aura, his sharp features accentuated by the dim light filtering through the doorway. his veiny arms are visible under the sleeves of his shirt, adding to the intimidating presence he exudes.

"uh, hi there," you greet cautiously, unsure of what to make of this unexpected visitor.

the man's lips curl into a faint smile, "hey," he replies in a low, husky voice. "i'm here about the room."

you nod, trying to ignore the unease creeping up your spine. "right, come on in," you say, stepping aside to let him enter.

as he steps into the apartment, you can't help but study him discreetly, taking note of his piercing gaze and the way he carries himself with a certain confidence. there's something mysterious about him, something that makes you curious yet wary at the same time.

"make yourself at home," you offer, gesturing towards the living room. "i'll go get you something to drink."

as you retreat to the kitchen to fetch a glass of water, your mind is still occupied with thoughts of the man who now occupies your living room. what caught your attention the most was his stance - it looked oddly familiar, yet you couldn't quite put your finger on it.

you pause in the kitchen, leaning against the countertop as you try to recall where you might have seen someone with such a commanding presence before. was it at a party? a chance encounter on the street? you're not sure, but there's something about him that tugs at the edges of your memory, begging to be remembered.

returning to the living room with a glass of water in hand, you cast a curious glance at the man who now sits on the couch, his cap still covering half of his face. you can't help but feel a sense of frustration at not being able to see his features clearly - it's like trying to solve a puzzle with half of the pieces missing.

"here you go," you say, offering him the glass of water with a polite smile. "sorry, i don't have any coffee made yet."

he accepts the water with a nod of thanks, his gaze lingering on you for a moment longer than necessary. there's something intense about his stare, something that sends a shiver down your spine.

"thanks," he replies, his voice low and gravelly. "no worries about the coffee."

as you watch him take a sip of water, you can't shake the feeling of unease that settles over you. internally, you curse haechan for not providing more details about the man who were supposed to rent the room. if only he had been more specific, you might have been better prepared for the strange encounter unfolding before you.

feeling the awkward tension thickening the air, you try to break the silence with some small talk, hoping to ease the discomfort of the situation. but before you can utter another word, he beats you to it with a blunt question.

"how much is the rent?" he asks, his tone plain and rude.

taken aback by his abruptness, you falter for a moment before composing yourself. "uh, well, it's $300 a month for each room," you reply, trying to keep your tone even despite the growing sense of irritation.

the man nods, as if considering the information, before setting the glass of water down on the coffee table with a thud. "alright then," he says curtly, his gaze flickering towards the door. "i'll take it."

you can't help but feel a surge of annoyance at his dismissive attitude, but you suppress it as best as you can. after all, you need the rent money, and beggars can't be choosers.

"great," you say, forcing a smile. "i'll get you the paperwork to sign."

as you retreat to your room to fetch the rental agreement, another doorbell rings, jolting you out of your thoughts. with a sigh, you swerve to the door, but before you can reach it, again, the man beats you to it, opening the door as if he owns the place. technically, he does now, but his sudden display of ownership still catches you off guard.

to your surprise, he seems positively excited as he greets the guest at the door, his demeanor a stark contrast to his earlier dismissive attitude. confused by his sudden change in behavior, you hurry over to the door to see who it is.

as you approach, you're greeted by the sight of mark standing in the doorway, a wide grin on his face. "yo, dude! you didn't tell me our roommate is gonna be jeno? this is sick!" he exclaims, his excitement palpable.

confused by his words, you furrow your brow and ask, "our?"

mark's grin widens as he steps further into the apartment. "yeah, our," he replies, clapping you on the shoulder. "i'm also renting the room. i'll explain later, but for now, let's just say it's gonna be lit."

you blink in surprise, processing the sudden revelation. so mark was also going to be your roommate. you can't help but wonder what other surprises the day has in store for you.

"have you two already introduced yourselves?" mark asks, glancing between you and the jeno guy who now stands in the living room.

still feeling a bit stunned by the revelation of mark's own rental arrangement, you shake your head slightly, silently admitting that you haven't exchanged names yet.

mark clears his throat, breaking the silence. "alright, enough with the awkwardness," he says with a grin. "y/n, meet jeno. jeno, meet y/n. you two are gonna be roommates from now on."

you exchange brief nods of acknowledgment, the tension in the air dissipating as mark's straightforward introduction breaks the ice. with the formalities out of the way, you can't help but feel a sense of relief knowing that you'll be sharing your living space with familiar faces.

mark then adds with a chuckle, "oh, and by the way, y/n, jeno here is the guy you and i met last night."

the realization hits you like a ton of bricks, and everything suddenly falls into place. jeno, the mysterious man from last night, the one who needed a restock — now he stands before you, not as a stranger, but as your new roommate.

you can't help but laugh at the absurdity of the situation, "well, isn't this a small world," you remark, a wry smile playing on your lips.

just as you and jeno share a glance at each other, the sound of raucous laughter and loud footsteps echoes through the hallway. before you can even process what's happening, the door bursts open, and in stumbles haechan, looking more disheveled than you've ever seen him.

"yooo, what's up, party people!" haechan shouts, his words slurring together as he teeters on the edge of drunkenness. "hope i'm not too late for the shindig!"

you can't help but raise an eyebrow at him. "haechan, it's barely noon. are you sure it's time for you to be drunk?" you quip.

haechan stumbles forward, his balance faltering, and you quickly reach out to steady him before he falls flat on his face. "whoa there," you say, managing to catch him just in time. "looks like you've had one too many already."

haechan grins sheepishly, his cheeks flushed with alcohol. "eh, you know me," he says with a careless shrug. "just trying to make the most of the day, you know?"

you shake your head, flicking haechan's forehead lightly before giving him a warning glance. "well, just try not to break anything," you reply, guiding him over to the couch where he flops down with a contented sigh.

"looks like we've got ourselves some deals to discuss," you say to the three men, your tone playful but firm. "i'll bring in the paper for you to sign and give the landlord a call to make it official."

you can't help but shake your head at the chaos that's sure to ensue with three men living under one roof. the thought of navigating their varying personalities, habits, and quirks fills you with excitement. but deep down, you know that life with mark, jeno, and haechan by your side will never be boring.

with jeno's mysterious aura, mark's laid-back charm, and haechan's unpredictable antics, you can already envision the countless adventures and misadventures that await you in your new living arrangement. from impromptu parties to late-night conversations and everything in between, it's bound to be a wild ride.

but amidst the chaos, there's a silver lining — having two seasoned plugs under one roof means that restocking your supply will be easier than ever. gone are the days of waiting anxiously for your dealer to respond or trekking across town to meet them in some shady alley. now, with mark, jeno, and haechan just a few steps away, you can refill your stash with ease, knowing that your cravings will always be satisfied.

months pass, and life in the apartment with the triple lee becomes a routine. but as familiarity settles in, so does an undeniable tension that simmers beneath the surface.

whenever you light up a joint, it seems like there's always at least one of them eager to join you. the air becomes thick with smoke, swirling around you in lazy tendrils as you pass the joint between your lips. and as you inhale deeply, you can't help but notice the way their eyes linger on you, their gazes burning with an intensity that sends shivers down your spine.

at first, you brush off the lingering stares as mere curiosity, but as time goes on, you begin to feel something more. it starts with fleeting glances and subtle touches — a hand brushing against yours as you pass the joint, a lingering gaze that lingers a little too long. the tension between you and your roommates — mark, jeno, and haechan — reaches a fever pitch.

and before you know it, you find yourself drawn to them in ways you never imagined possible. that leave you breathless.

mark, with his devilish grin, fuels your fantasies with thoughts of rough, passionate encounters. you imagine him pinning you against the wall, his hands roaming your body as he whispers dirty promises in your ear. with each passing day, the desire to feel his touch grows stronger, igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume you whole.

jeno, with his quiet intensity and smoldering gaze, awakens a primal hunger deep within you. you picture him taking control, his touch gentle yet commanding as he explores every inch of your body with a reverence that leaves you trembling with need. in your fantasies, he's the epitome of restraint, unleashing a torrent of pent-up desire that leaves you begging for more.

and then there's haechan, with his playful charm and infectious laughter, who ignites a wild, untamed passion within you. you envision him pushing you to your limits, his touch leaving trails of fire in its wake as he leads you on a journey of ecstasy and abandon. with him, it's all about letting go of inhibitions and surrendering to the raw, primal pleasure that courses through your veins.

how could you resist envisioning them naked when you're so used to seeing them walking around half naked, their toned bodies on display for all to see? it's a constant temptation, one that grows stronger with each passing day.

one evening, as you make your way to the bathroom, you're startled to find mark already inside, his shirt discarded on the floor as he stands before the mirror, shirtless and unapologetically confident. "oh, sorry," he says, flashing you a charming grin as he moves to step aside.

but instead of retreating, you find yourself frozen in place, unable to tear your gaze away from his chiseled physique. the sight of him, all lean muscle and taut skin, sends a jolt of desire coursing through you.

with a playful smirk, mark steps closer, his gaze smoldering. "you sure you're okay, love?" he asks, his voice low and husky as he reaches out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "you seem a little . . . distracted."

his touch sends shivers down your spine, igniting a primal hunger within you that demands to be satisfied. without thinking, you lean into his touch, your body craving the warmth of his skin against yours.

"i . . . i'm fine," you stammer out, your voice barely above a whisper as you struggle to maintain control. but deep down, you know that you're anything but fine. in fact, you're on the verge of losing yourself completely to the overwhelming desire that consumes you.

mark's teasing grin only widens, his eyes darkening with desire as he moves closer, closing the distance between you until you can feel the heat radiating from his body.

"are you sure about that?" he murmurs, as he trails his fingers lightly along the curve of your jaw, sending electric sparks dancing across your skin. "because you seem awfully tense, y/n. maybe i can help you relax."

his words send a shiver of anticipation coursing through you, your breath catching in your throat as you feel his warm breath ghosting over your lips. with each movement, he inches closer, his proximity setting your senses ablaze with longing.

you can feel the heat of his body pressing against yours. and as his lips hover just inches from yours, you find yourself powerless to resist the magnetic pull of temptation.

"mark . . ." you whispered, your voice barely a breathless sigh as you lean in closer, your lips dangerously close to his.

just when you think he's about to close the distance between you, brings his free hand to your back while his lips still hover close to fetch the hairdryer.

"got it," mark says with a mischievous smile, his eyes dancing with amusement as he breaks the spell, stepping away from you. "you can have the bathroom, love. i'm done anyways."

he winks at you before disappearing into his room, leaving you cursing him under your breath as you're left standing there, your senses reeling from the dizzying whirlwind of desire that he's left in his wake, his teasing leaving you feeling flushed and unexpectedly horny.

"fuck you, mark lee,"

all you can do is help yourself, your mind consumed with thoughts of them as you seek relief through self-pleasure.

despite your best efforts, the ache of desire persists, lingering in the depths of your being like an insatiable hunger that cannot be satisfied. even as your fingers work tirelessly to bring you to the brink of release, you find yourself yearning for something more, something deeper — a connection that transcends the physical act of pleasure.

but still, you press on, knowing that even if your touch alone isn't enough to fulfill your needs entirely, it's a temporary reprieve from the relentless onslaught of desire. and in this moment of desperation, you'll take whatever relief you can get, no matter how fleeting or inadequate it may seem. for now, it's enough to quell the raging fire of horniness that burns within you, if only for a fleeting moment.

shaken from your reverie, you blink rapidly, the harsh fluorescent lights of the grocery store aisle glaring down at you. reality comes crashing back in waves, and you realize with a start that you've been standing in the same spot for who knows how long, lost in the depths of your own thoughts.

embarrassment floods through you as you glance around, hoping that no one noticed your momentary lapse in awareness. hastily, you grab the item you came for and make your way to the checkout counter, eager to escape the prying eyes of the other shoppers.

as you wait in line, you can't shake the lingering feeling of arousal that still pulses beneath your skin, a reminder of the fantasies that had consumed your mind just moments before. with a shake of your head, you push the thoughts aside, determined to focus on the task at hand.

finally, you pay for your items and make your way out of the store, the warm afternoon air washing over you like a welcome reprieve. with each step, you feel the weight of the day slowly lifting from your shoulders, replaced by a sense of calm and clarity.

as you head back home, you make a silent vow to keep your needs in check, knowing that indulging in them would only lead to more trouble than it's worth.

reaching into your bag, you fumble for your keys, the weight of the metal reassuring in your hand as you approach the door to your shared apartment. with a twist of the lock, you step inside, greeted by the familiar sights and sounds of home.

until, the faint sound of a groan catches your attention, a low, throaty sound that sends a shiver down your spine. you freeze, your heart pounding in your chest as you strain to identify the source of the noise.

your mind races with possibilities, each one more harder than the last. could it be one of your roommates, lost in the throes of passion with a lover? or perhaps it's just the creaking of the old floorboards, a trick of the imagination brought on by the late afternoon and the dim lighting.

but even as you entertain the possibility of your roommates enjoying their intimate session behind your back, a nagging doubt gnaws at the edges of your mind. after all, as far as you know, none of them have ever brought girls back to the apartment without letting you know beforehand.

could they be sneaking around behind your back? the thought stirs a mix of anger and hurt or maybe even . . . jealous?

although it's none of your business, a sudden surge of protectiveness washes over you, urging you to intervene. you're not sure why this sudden urge to meddle has taken hold of you. could it be jealousy, bubbling up from deep within? or perhaps it's just a sense of duty to your roommates, wanting to ensure everything is okay.

whatever the reason, you can't ignore the pull to investigate further.

following the sound, you made your way towards the living room, curiosity driving you forward. and as you stepped into the room, your eyes were met with a scene that both shocked and aroused you.

seated on the couch was a guy with pale skin, his toned body visible as his t-shirt lay on the floor. his sweatpants were pulled down, and he was stroking himself. he had his head tilted back, letting out small moans of pleasure.

as you blinked in disbelief, you realized it was lee jeno, your roommate, caught in this intimate moment. his movements were slow as he continued to stroke himself, his breath coming in shallow pants. veins stood out on his neck, pulsing with desire, while his flushed cheeks betrayed the intensity of his arousal.

the same guy who had been rude and distant, you couldn't help but feel a surge of conflicting emotions. memories flooded back of the time you bumped into him after his shower, his damp hair tousled and his skin glistening with droplets of water. you had been unable to tear your eyes away from his toned body, and he had caught you staring, teasing you in his straightforward manner, a smirk playing on his lips.

"like what you see, princess?" he had remarked, his tone laced with amusement as he arched an eyebrow at you. the teasing glint in his eyes had only fueled your embarrassment, leaving you flustered and at a loss for words.

another memory flooded your mind, sending a jolt of heat through your body. you remembered vividly how jeno had "accidentally" pressed his erection against your backside while you were cooking.

his excuse had been flimsy at best — something about trying to reach for a plate while you were in his way. but you knew better.

you felt it — his hardness pressing against you right where you craved to be filled the most. the only thing that stood between you and him was the thin barrier of fabric, but even that couldn't hide the unmistakable bulge.

instead of anger, you felt a surge of desire coursing through you, driving you to the brink of madness. it left you wondering just how big he actually was, considering the brief but intense contact you had felt.

and now, the opportunity is right in front of you, and you're not about to let it slip away again. but then again, you've never been particularly close with jeno, and the thought of making a move feels daunting.

yet, the neediness coursing through your veins outweighs any reservations you might have. your heart pounds erratically in your chest, and a sticky heat begins to pool between your legs.

jeno's gaze meets yours without a hint of shame, and a smirk tugs at the corners of his lips as he tilts his head back, letting out a low, guttural moan. "enjoying the show, princess?" he asks, his voice laced with a teasing edge as he continues to circle the flushed tip of his cock.

his voice drops to a husky whisper as he moans your name, sending a shiver down your spine and igniting a fire in the pit of your stomach.

realization hits you like a truck as you hear him moan your name. your name, uttered from his lips in a voice thick with desire, sends a surge of heat through your body, leaving you breathless and dizzy with need.

as you stand there, unable to feel your legs as they wobble beneath you, you realize just how fucking hot the scene is.

shakily, you call out jeno's name, your voice barely above a whisper as you're overcome with desire. in response, jeno moans your name again, the sound sending a shiver down your spine as he praises you, his words fueling the fire burning inside you. your mind becomes hazy as you stand there, torn between making a move or waiting for his instructions, unsure of what to do next.

"c'mere princess," he whispers, his voice sending shivers down your spine. "be a good girl and help me out."

with a shaky breath, you step closer to jeno. his words send a jolt of electricity through you, and you find yourself drawn to him like a moth to a flame.

as you stand before him, you let him guide your hand to his hardened cock, feeling the heat and hardness of it under your touch. you can't help but feel a surge of excitement coursing through you.

you kneel in front of him, you take a moment to admire his cock, thick and veiny, pulsing with need. with a boldness you didn't know you possessed, you wrap your hand around him, feeling him throb with anticipation.

you're not sure why you suddenly feel so bold. maybe it's because you've spent the whole week teasing yourself, unable to find satisfaction with just your fingers or your toy. and it doesn't help hearing haechan on the other side of the thin wall, making you even more desperate for release.

"you like watching me jerk off," he murmurs, his voice husky with desire.

"i did," you reply, your voice barely above a whisper as you lean in closer. with a slow, teasing motion, you begin to stroke him, relishing in the way he responds to your touch.

despite the pleasure your touch brings him, jeno is not known for his patience. he craves more, yearning for the feel of your lips, your skin against his.

with a swift motion, he stands up, pulling you to your feet and pushing you back onto the couch. as he hovers over you, his eyes lock onto yours, a mischievous glint dancing in them.

"you know, princess," he says, his voice low and teasing, "i'm not one to wait around. and right now, all i want is you."

your response is equally teasing as you whisper back, "then what are you waiting for?" the words seem to ignite a fire within him, making him even harder as he leans in closer, his breath hot against your skin.

"should i kiss you?" he murmured, his lips hovering near yours, a mischievous grin playing on them. you nodded eagerly, craving his kiss after his teasing.

with a smirk, he leaned in, and your lips met, fitting together seamlessly, eliciting a soft whimper from you. the kiss quickly intensified, leaving you gasping for air.

he trailed kisses along your neck, diverting your attention as he positioned his leg between yours. pressing his firm thigh against your warmth, he felt the dampness through his pants. a soft groan escaped his lips as you instinctively moved your hips against him.

you started grinding against him without needing any prompting, the rush of pleasure making you moan softly. his lips kept moving on your neck, leaving small marks that would turn into bruises later.

your wetness soaked through jeno's sweats, making them cling to him, but he didn't mind as he pressed harder against you. he pulled his lips away from your skin to watch you ride his thigh desperately. your movements, the way your chest rose and fell with every moan, the way you tugged on your nipples through your shirt, made him moan in response.

"my naughty little princess," jeno growled, his eyes locked onto you as you moved against him. you whimpered, the friction between your wetness and his sweats driving you wild. pleasure surged through you, sending shivers down your spine and leaving your skin slick with sweat.

jeno bit his lip, watching you grind against his thigh with desperation. he was consumed by the desire to make you cum so hard you couldn't even think straight.

your distant, lust-filled gaze drove him wild. all he wanted was to push you over the edge, to hear you scream his name in ecstasy.

"i want you to cum all over my thigh, baby. be a good girl for me," he whispered.

you gripped onto the man above you, your nails digging into his arms. he winced but didn't pull away. as you started to slow down, overwhelmed by the intensity, he took control, gripping your hips tightly and urging you to keep going.

you screamed his name, throwing your head back as your body tightened. then, you were falling over the edge. your body shook with the intensity of your orgasm, leaving you unable to make a sound as waves of pleasure washed over you.

"come on, princess, let it out," jeno whispered, his voice deep and close to your ear. "fuck- that's it, good girl . . ."

as you started to calm down, your vision clearing, jeno's hands traced along your body, murmuring sweet words to ease you. he kissed you deeply, pulling you back from your daze. you gripped his hair, eliciting a moan from him.

you lay beneath jeno, spent and limp, while he smirked down at you, enjoying your disheveled look. despite his arousal evident, as hard as a rock, he focused on you with a commanding gaze.

"what's on your mind, princess?" he demanded, his voice firm.

"now," you stuttered, pulling your shirt off and revealing your bare breasts. "put that dick in this cunt."

"shit, just hearing that could've made me cum," jeno muttered, pushing his sweats down to his knees and kicking them off the couch. “been waiting for this for so long.”

he gripped your thighs firmly, parting them to reveal your still throbbing core. taking hold of his erection, he trailed the tip along your slick folds, coating himself in your arousal. in that moment, you were struck by the sheer size of his cock; long, thick, and oozing with precum that made your mouth water.

but then, a sudden panic washed over you as you remembered the presence of your other two roommates. you whispered urgently to jeno, reminding him of the others.

jeno's reply came in a low voice. "fuck them, princess," he said, his eyes smoldering with intensity. "let them hear how good i make you feel."

he guides the tip of his cock to your entrance, feeling how wet and ready you were for him. unable to resist, he pushes his way inside you. the sensation is intense, unlike anything you've ever felt before — a mix of pleasure and slight pain that has your eyes rolling back in ecstasy.

"fuck fuck fuck," he groaned as he went all the way in. you've never felt anyone so deep inside you before, and your thighs start shaking. "you're so tight," he moans.

he pulled back until only the tip was inside you, feeling your walls tightening around him. with a groan, he thrust back in firmly, causing the couch to creak and both of you to moan loudly. your nails might have been leaving red marks on his back, but it only seemed to drive him to go harder.

"i'm gonna cum, shit," he said, his voice sounding strained.

"already?" you teased, earning a glare and a hard thrust from him. "thanks to you, i've been on edge for hours," he growled, biting your shoulder lightly and chuckling at your whimper.

"didn't you already—"

"no," he growled, thrusting deep and holding still, keeping you filled and squirming around him. "i waited for you to come back from shopping to catch me."

"well, shit," you mumbled, moving your hips against him, a hand trying to find your clit. but jeno grabbed your wrist, stopping you, a wicked grin on his face.

"uh-uh" he said firmly, holding your arm above your head. "you're going to cum from my cock alone or not at all, princess."

you whimpered, your eyes pleading as he ground deeper into you, hitting your sweet spot. "please, just let me cum."

"such a good girl, begging like that," he murmured, his lips moist as he licked them, but he kept your arm pinned. he slowed his pace slightly, still thrusting hard but not as fast, prolonging the torture for both of you.

you could feel an orgasm building up inside you, the tension in your stomach almost unbearable. unlike before, you weren't sure if you could cum from just his cock alone. it was a new feeling, one that left you both anxious and excited, wondering if you could reach that peak solely from his touch.

usually, you had to take care of yourself during or after. but seeing how determined jeno was, you felt a flicker of hope ignite within you. you trusted him to take you to heights you hadn't reached before, to give you the stars and beyond.

"don't worry, princess," jeno reassured, releasing your arm and gently cupping your breast. "i'll make sure you reach it."

with his promise, he increased his speed, hitting just the right spot that made you cry out in pleasure and arch your back. unexpectedly, he pushed down on your stomach, triggering an immediate orgasm that was unlike anything you'd ever felt before.

"fuck, princess, you're doing great," jeno praised, maintaining the pressure and speed. "i can feel myself deep inside you," his words were dirty, fueling your orgasm even more.

your eyes rolled back, spots dancing before them, and your head spun. you felt like you might pass out from the intensity, your orgasm overwhelming you as his thrusts continued unabated.

his voice echoed in your ears, but you couldn't make out the words; all you knew was the pleasure was overwhelming, and everything felt soaked.

you felt a cool cloth wiping away the mess, and when you opened your eyes, you saw a small smile on his face as he cleaned your thighs.

he's smiling, you thought. you can't help but think how beautiful it is. it's a rare sight, a genuine expression that illuminates his features with warmth and kindness. his crescent eyes sparkle with a softness that tugs at your heartstrings, and for a moment, you find yourself mesmerized by the sight.

you wish this moment could last forever, etching his smile into your memory as a reminder of the gentle side he rarely shows.

but reality soon sets in, reminding you of the undeniable barrier that exists between the two of you.

despite the fleeting intimacy you shared, you both know deep down that you're nothing more than that — a temporary escape, a means to fulfill each other's physical needs.

"let's take a quick nap," he said, lending you a hand as you struggled to sit up, feeling like your back had turned to jelly. "sucks to be them."

“who?” you ask, feeling a pang of unease creeping into your voice.

"nothing, just . . . " jeno replied with a casual shrug, avoiding your gaze as he busied himself with straightening the cushions.

you frowned, sensing there was more to his comment than he was letting on. "what do you mean by that?"

before you could dwell on it further, jeno's gaze softened, and he reached out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. "we should probably clean up," he said, his voice slightly hoarse as he glanced around the room, avoiding your eyes.

you chuckled weakly, feeling embarrassed. "yeah, wouldn't want to give them a show," you said, attempting to lighten the mood as you glanced at the closed door, wondering if anyone else was lurking around.

"hey, y/n . . ." jeno's voice was soft, almost a whisper, and you turned to him, waiting for him to speak. when he hesitated, you prompted him, "what is it, jeno?"

"i don't want you to think i’m taking advantage of you," jeno stated plainly. “trust me, that’s the last thing on my mind.”

true, it was quite unexpected for the two of you to fuck. you both hadn't really planned on it, but things just escalated quickly. maybe it was the adrenaline, the thrill of doing something risky, or maybe it was just the heat of the moment that led to it.

“it's okay, jeno,” you replied gently, sensing his hesitation. "we all have our needs, and sometimes, certain situations arise to fulfill them." pausing for a moment, you continued, "you were about to say something?"

"i mean," he started, his tone earnest, "i want us to . . . you know, do this again. and not just for sex, but . . . i want to get to know you better."

as you listened to jeno's unexpected confession, memories of your interactions with him flooded your mind. unlike mark and haechan, who were always easy to talk to and had been your friends for years, your relationship with jeno had always been distant.

you recalled the times when you crossed paths in the apartment, exchanging little more than nods or brief greetings. even when you smoked out on the balcony, jeno's presence was accompanied by an air of indifference.

he would join you, wordlessly asking for a lighter and rolling his own cigarette. sometimes he'd linger, but more often than not, he'd disappear without a word, leaving you alone.

around you, jeno remained aloof and reserved, rarely showing any warmth or interest in engaging with you beyond what was necessary. his demeanor was cool and distant, his words carefully measured, as if he was always keeping you at arm's length.

it was as if you were both skipping crucial steps in the process of getting to know each other, rushing into something that felt both exhilarating and unsettling.

now, amidst the aftermath, you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of awkwardness creeping in.

with a soft sigh, you finally broke the tension. “i’ll see you around, jeno.”

stay tuned for more chapters coming soon!

— a.

[sunflower-lilac42]

✧ 𝐖𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐍𝐞𝐰 𝐘𝐨𝐫𝐤 || luke hughes♔

album & song: 1989 ; welcome to new york (taylor's version)

summary: y/n comes to visit her boyfriend and they venture around new york when she surprises him with some news

pairings: luke hughes x reader ; jack hughes x platonic!reader (minor)

warnings: airplanes/airport (very minor), crowded spaces, fluffy

notes: hey guys, I'm back! this was really fun to write but I did end up cutting out the second verse because I didn't really know what to write for that part. anyways, I loved how this turned out and i'm so excited to share it with you so I hope you guys enjoy it as well. let me know what I should write next for this series however I think I'm either gonna write a fic that doesn't pertain to any event or celebration or one for my 150 celly next. hope you guys had a good holiday and I will see you all in the next one! by the way, you guys can pick where you are oging to school but to make it easy I just picked somewhere (that being Hofstra becuase they really want me so I picked them in spirit). add yourself to the taglist ➺ taglist!

1989 masterlist | nhl x ts masterlist | nhl masterlist | main masterlist

'Welcome to New York, it's been waitin' for you Welcome to New York, welcome to New York Welcome to New York, it's been waitin' for you Welcome to New York, welcome to New York'

It had been a month since the two had last seen each other. They had been lucky enough that their schedules overlapped this year. For Thanksgiving break, Luke had a game the day it started in Detriot so she drove there to see him, spending some of Thursday with him before he had to head back to Jersey. For Winter Break, the day after exams ended Luke had a game in Columbus so once again she drove down to see him before leaving for Jersey with him to spend her break with as they had a homestand till Christmas (and maybe for a while after…)

Luke wrapped an arm around y/n, sitting on an airplane because they knew they wouldn’t hear the end of it if Luke went with the team. He leaned over and kissed her head, “Welcome to New York, babe.”

Y/n looked over at him and smiled, “I can’t tell if you’re trying to make a Taylor Swift reference and are mocking me,” she showed him her phone which had ‘Welcome to New York’ showing that it was playing on it. “Or if you’re being serious and are just saying it.”

Luke shrugged, “Maybe both?”

She laughed and hit him playfully, snuggling into his side as they landed. 

✧༺✎༻∞

'Walkin' through a crowd, the village is aglow Kaleidoscope of loud heartbeats under coats Everybody here wanted somethin' more Searchin' for a sound we hadn't heard before'

Y/n had begged her boyfriend to go walking in the city across the river to look at their Christmas lights. It didn’t take long for him to say yes as he was pulling on his shoes grabbing the keys from the table and yelling goodbye to Jack who still sat curled up in his room. 

The two walked hand in hand as they strolled through Rockefeller Center, looking at the tree, “We should’ve brought skates.”

Luke gave her a look, “I play professional hockey for a living, you think I don’t carry skates in my car?”

“Lukey, I was joking. You skate for a living, don’t you ever want a break.” She pulled him past the rink, heading towards a hot chocolate stand, rubbing her hands together. 

He grabbed her hands and held them between his own, “No.”

She rolled her eyes and Luke let go of her hands for a brief moment to pay for the hot chocolate before placing one back in hers. They continued to walk around the city, y/n pointing out things in amazement and Luke watching her with a dazed look on his face. 

“Look, that one kind of looks like you’re looking through a kaleidoscope.” He didn’t respond as he had spaced out looking at her smile, “Luke. Hey!”

“What?” He snapped out of it and looked down at her, his eyes readjusting and focusing on her eyes, “I’ve been talking to you for the past two minutes and you have not said a word.”

“Oh, sorry.”

“It’s okay, are you okay?”

He nodded but she knew that wasn’t the case, something was bothering him, “Seriously, Luke. What’s wrong?”

“Do you ever,” He paused before restarting, “Do you ever wish we could be together?”

“What do you mean? We are together.”

“I meant like all the time. Like you were there when I came home from roadies, or you were at all of the home games when you could be. Or you were there when I woke up every morning.” Luke sounded sad as he spoke.

“Of course, I do, Luke. And you know that.” She wanted to say what she wanted but it wasn’t the right time, “Just give it a little bit and everything will work out, okay? I promise.”

He nodded but still had an unsure look on his face. She reached up and kissed him, wrapping her arms around his neck and he retaliated with his arms around her torso. To keep his spirits high, she allowed them to head to the rink and rent some skates, which they could’ve spent hours on but only stayed for an hour before heading to get something to eat, picking up something for Jack for when they got home. 

✧༺✎༻∞

'Like any great love, it keeps you guessing Like any real love, it's ever-changing Like any true love, it drives you crazy But you know you wouldn't change anything, anything, anything'

It was the eighth of January and y/n knew that Luke would start getting suspicious. None of her bags were packed, most of her belongings were strewn about in Luke’s room, and she hadn’t made an effort to start packing them either. She also hadn’t told him when her flight back to Michigan was which was odd because Luke would’ve dropped everything to take her to the airport, especially with their upcoming road trip.

The Devils had a four-game break before they had to head to Tampa on Thursday, they had just played the Canucks and everything seemed to slow down for a minute. Luke came into his room seeing his girlfriend sitting on his bed with her legs crossed under her and staring out the window, “What’s up?”

She snapped her head over and looked at him, “Do you want to go out for dinner?”

Luke shrugged, “Not really. I’m kind of tired.”

Y/n sighed and redirected her gaze to the window again. Luke sat behind her and wrapped his arms around her waist, “Do you want to go out for dinner?”

She nodded, “I kind of wanted to talk to you about something.”

“And we need to go out to dinner to do that?”

Y/n rolled her eyes, “I just thought it would be nice to.”

The boy agreed finally, the two sitting there in silence before watching their show on y/n’s laptop. They watched Supernatural as they waited for a good time to start getting ready. They got through 6 episodes before they finally decided to get ready. 

Luke drove to the restaurant and they made small talk along the way, talking about Luke’s upcoming games and y/n deflecting any questions her boyfriend brought up about school. They walked into the restaurant, got a table for two, and looked over the menu. 

After their waiter brought their appetizer and took their main course order, y/n looked at Luke seriously, “So, I need to talk to you about something.”

“If you’re breaking up with me this is a very cruel way to do it.” Luke drew his hand away from hers and held it in his lap, nervous about what was to come of the conversation.

“Luke, I’m not breaking up with, quite the opposite actually.”

Luke tilted his head in confusion, his spirit raising slightly at her words. She reached her hand out once more and he gladly took it, tightening his hand a little once hers was in his grasp again. 

“You know how at the beginning of the break you asked me if I ever wished we could be together all the time?” He nodded his head, not connecting any dots, “And you know how I said it would all work out someday?”

Once again he nodded and she fidgeted nervously, “Well dreams are about to become a reality.”

“What?”

“I didn't want to tell you at the beginning of the break in case something went wrong but I’m transferring to Hofstra, which is only an hour away from East Rutherford.”

Luke’s gaze widened at the news, “You’re what?”

“Yeah, and Jack has been helping me find an apartment for us that’s halfway between here and the campus so we both wouldn’t have to commute that far. He also kind of helped me already paid for it so I hope you like it because if you didn’t that would be embarrassing but you not even being on board with this whole plan would be horrible because I already kind of drove myself crazy doing this. Of course, you’re not a fan of this plan, you’re just starting your rookie season and this must be a lot, this changes everything. Ugh, what am I doing chasing after-”

Luke kissed her in order to get her to stop talking. She grunted at the impact but kissed back before pulling away and looking at him, “I’m sorry.”

“Y/n/n, take a breather.”

Y/n took a breath in and let it out slowly, eyes wandering around in an effort not to make any eye contact with her boyfriend. 

“Of course, I want to move in with you. It just took me off guard.” He smiled at her and she smiled back. 

“How long have you been planning this?”

“Since the first week of school.”

Luke looked at her with a wide-eyed gaze, “Are you serious?”

She nodded, tears coming to her eyes, “It was really hard that first week, I wasn’t able to see you every day which was a huge change. It got worse during hockey season because they all had practice and besides the girls, I didn’t really have anyone to hang out with. I mean, the guys always reminded me of you and how you guys would always hang out. And then it would remind me of the time I first met them.”

“I think they liked you more than I did, which wasn’t possible but they acted like it was.”

“Ethan was so excited.” The two chuckled at the memory before locking eyes once again, “I started looking at Universities that weren’t too far from here because I didn’t want you to have to commute that far.”

“If you wanted to go to somewhere two hours from here I would’ve done the drive if it meant I could live with you.”

“Trust me, I know, Jack said the same thing when we were talking about it, which is why I didn’t tell you.”

“When did you have time to find an apartment?”

“Well I asked Jack about it in late September and early October and he was able to start looking at places for me, which also probably explains some of the days where you guys had off days and he was gone for a while. He facetimed me when he thought it was something I would really like. And then that one day when I said I wanted to go shopping for you but I didn’t want to go alone? Yeah, the two of us went out to look at our apartment.”

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

“So are you two looking for this apartment together?” The realtor asked as they stood at the entryway to the apartment.

“No, no, no definitely not. He’s my boyfriend’s brother. I’m surprising him.”

The realtor nodded her head and opened the door. They spent a little time walking through the apartment, y/n planning out where everything would go in her head as they peeked through the rooms. She smiled at the space when they circled back to the living room.

“I really like this one, I think it could be it. Jack?”

Jack nodded his head in agreement, “I like it, I think Luke would too.”

They finished talking to the realtor, going over the costs and the other essential things. They walked out of the apartment complex, heading towards Jack’s car where they got in and y/n made him crank the heat up. 

“Do you think he’ll actually want to move in with me?”

“Of course he will y/n/n. I haven’t been able to go a day without him bringing you up in conversation. I love you, but it gets annoying.”

She laughs but nerves are still evident on her face, “Hey, listen.” Jack turns his body to face his, in his words ‘future-sister-in-law’, “I can promise you, without a doubt, that my brother would be over the fucking moon if you offered to move in with him. He wouldn’t care where it was, or what it looked like, as long as you were happy and he got to live with you. That man is in love with you and anyone can see it.”

She nodded her head, “Thanks, Jack.”

“Come on, what are future-brother-in-laws for?”

༶•┈┈⛧┈♛

“Our apartment?”

She nodded, “Jack paid half and I paid the other because I certainly wasn’t going to let your brother pay for our apartment, my pride wouldn’t be able to handle it. If it was Quinn, maybe, but definitely not Jack.”

He laughed at the thought, “You know how to keep me on my toes. But I wouldn't change it for the world.”

“I try my hardest.”

“So, when can we move in?”

✧༺✎༻∞

'It's a new soundtrack, I could dance to this beat, beat forevermore The lights are so bright, but they never blind me, me'

Instead of the depressing music Luke and y/n would be listening to right now, they were listening to their productive music, moving boxes from the truck to their new apartment. When they finished, y/n started to unpack the things for the kitchen, dancing to ‘Welcome to New York’. 

Luke came barrelling in from their new bedroom, sliding on the wood in his stocks, “Hey!”

She turned around and looked at him, plates in hand, “What’s up, Lukey?”

“We should go shopping for new furniture. I mean we have like nothing in this place.”

He was right, the only pieces of furniture they had were an old couch from y/n’s parents, a mattress that they had blown up as they waited for their new one to get here, and a TV that sat in their room. She nodded her head, “Let me put these last plates away and we can go.”

Luke jumped up on the island and looked at her, listening to the music, “Isn’t this like, your thirteenth time listening to this song?”

“So what? It’s a good song. Are you hating on Taylor Swift, Luke Warren Hughes?” 

The boy held up his hands in surrender, a somewhat scarred look on his face, “No. Of course not.”

“Good.”

The two went out shopping, stopping for food on the way back. When they got back it was late at night, the bright lights of New York City streaming into their apartment window. They sat on some cushions they had gotten in the living room, their new TV not yet on a mantle as neither of them wanted to build it yet. 

They watched whatever game was on at the time, Luke commentating most of the time on actual technical things as y/n just yelled when someone she knew, or liked, did something stupid. When the game was over, the two yawned simultaneously, cleaning up their garbage and making their way to the room. 

Laying in bed the two looked at each other, the lights from outside still coming in through the window, “This is so surreal.”

“Hmm?” Y/n’s gaze moved from their hands that were intertwined to his face, “Being with you, in our apartment, in our own, well bed for now.”

She agreed with him with a subtle nod, “You know, I’d always get annoyed when I was at my dorm and the lights from outside would come through the curtain, but now that it doesn’t really bother me.”

Despite the heat in the room, y/n moved closer to Luke as she was still cold. Luke wrapped his arms around her, placing her head on his chest, “And why’s that?”

“Because you’re here.”

“You’re so cringy.”

“But you love it.”

“I do. And I love you.”

She looked up, “I love you too.”

Placing a kiss to her lips and then on the top of her head, Luke adjusted his arms so the one wouldn’t fall asleep but he was still able to hold her, finding it almost impossible but didn’t really care in the moment.

𝑻𝑨𝑮𝑳𝑰𝑺𝑻 ˏˋ°•*⁀➷

if your name is crossed out it means i couldn't tag you

@prettyinsatiable | @dancerbailey3 | @boliversworld | @if-my-heart-bleeds | @hearts-4-luke | @sarawinson78 | @pucks-goals-penalties | @elegieseulogise | @crazycat-ladys-blog | @privatemythss | @5secondsofonedirection222 | @piavettel33 | @bohemianrapshawty | @mikayladavis | @klkennedy | @hockeyboysarehot

[greenorangevioletgrass]

fever pitch (b.b) - prologue

soundtrack: mastermind - taylor swift pairing: footballer!bradley x popstar!reader synopsis: Bradley shoots his shot in public, but will he fumble when he meets you in person? warnings: language, drinking, meet cute notes: my first series in a while! this is shamelessly based on the epic Taylor Swift/Travis Kelce saga currently happening rn, and combine that with my innate love of football (the kicking kind, not the NFL kind) and... voila! I hope you enjoy this. Let me know what you think in the comments, reblogs, and asks. Happy reading! <3 ✨I do not have a taglist. Please follow @ficsbygreenorangevioletgrass and turn on the notification to get the latest update on my fics✨

Soccer Sensation Bradley Bradshaw Fails To Shoot His Shoot With Y/N At Her Concert?

Arsenal captain Bradley Bradshaw may be among his club’s top scorers this season, but even he misses a chance in romance like the rest of us.

The 29-year-old athlete spoke about his missed opportunity with the multi-platinum songstress Y/N while speaking to his former teammate Héctor Bellerín on the latter’s podcast, “More Than A Footballer”, earlier this week.

When asked about any fun stuff he did last weekend, Bradshaw replied,

“I went to the Y/N concert at Wembley [Stadium]... it was awesome. It was pouring rain, but it was amazing. I don’t remember Wembley ever being that electric aside from, like, cup finals. She was sensational.”

Bellerín nods in agreement, having heard great things about the famed singer-songwriter’s live concerts.

Unprompted, the American midfielder then continued,

“If you’ve heard about the tour, there’s this tradition of trading friendship bracelets. And I actually made one with my number on it, hoping I could give it to her after the show…”

The Cockney-raised Spaniard cackled in surprise and teased him, “But she didn’t wanna see you, bruv? [That is] legend!”

“No hard feelings!” Bradshaw raised his hands in defense over the Zoom call. “She needed to dry off and get warm. Gotta make sure she stays healthy, protect those vocal cords. But yeah, I was a bit bummed out about it.”

Bellerín laughed and jokingly addressed the camera, “Y/N, if you’re watching, give my boy a chance, will you?”

Mononymous pop sensation Y/N is hot off of her Kaleidoscope North American Tour, which wrapped in September. Her six-show run at Wembley Stadium this November officially kicks off the European leg of her sold-out tour. 

Will they be the next pop royalty and conquer the stadiums with their own crafts, or will this fizzle out as this week’s viral anecdote? The ball is in your court, Y/N.

Y/N’s representatives have not responded for comment.

***

Your Miu Miu heels click and clack against the ground. The pavement gleams after the rain and glistens under the streetlights. Everywhere you look, your eyes hurt. Down, and you worry about slipping into a puddle and falling on your ass. Forward, and a million camera flashes are ready to give you an aneurysm.

All in the name of reporting your night off of work, performing live in front of 90,000 people in a stadium.

In other words, all in a day’s work.

There’s a moment of reprieve, when the silvery white blitzes disappear into the dim tangerine lighting of the lobby. The flight down the stairs is so dark, you’re seeing green. It takes your eyes a moment to adjust, but as soon as they do, the thumping bass line of some dance music hits your ears. Clashing perfumes doused on the dancing, dressed-up bodies that you have to weave through.

You are seriously regretting your girl friends’ invite to a night out. You could’ve just had them over to your hotel, open a bunch of red wine, and you would’ve still had a blast. But no. You had to say yes to going to the Cuckoo Club with Lacey, Amara, and Jo.

And this evening is making you feel quite cuckoo.

There’s champagne at your booth and you’re much too eager to take a glass and start a toast. “Cheers, bitches!” you yell over the music, clinking your glass against theirs before downing the whole thing in one go.

It’s nowhere near enough.

There’s not enough buzz to dull the assault to your senses—not even after the three glasses of wine at dinner earlier. Everything is still too loud, too bright, too crowded, too… much.

“Hey!” you nudge Amara, who is sitting right next to you. “Let’s do shots!”

She turns to you, eyes widening at the slightest. “I thought you wanted to take it easy tonight!” 

“Changed my mind,” you shrug, as you get up to the bar.

While you make your way through the crowd on the dance floor, Bradley Bradshaw looks up from his booth and does a double-take at the girl who just walked by. Even in a high-end club full of the well-dressed and well-heeled, people still get starstruck. And why wouldn’t they? You’re about as famous as an iPhone. 

His eyes widen and immediately whips out his phone to shoot a text to his oldest and most trusted friend Natasha Trace.

‘Dude, I’m in the club and Y/N just walked in. What do I do??’

Natasha thankfully texts back almost immediately. Then again, maybe being a Communications Director for a major company requires her to be a good texter. ‘Wdym what do you do? Just go talk to her.’

‘You were supposed to introduce us!’ Bradley replies, eyes darting between his phone and you at the bar, conflicted.

Natasha is a mutual friend of yours, too, and when the Bracelet-gate clip went viral, she laughed in his face for a full 5 minutes before deciding to set the two of you up. But the schedule never really aligned, so he hasn’t got a chance to see you. Not even after he went to your concert with a friendship bracelet and a dream.

And now, seeing you here in the same room at the same time as him…

‘What do you want me to do, get down there and do it for you?’

‘...Can you?’

He senses the judgment even as the three dots appear on his screen. 

‘Stop being a pussy, Bradshaw. Let me Netflix and chill with my gf in peace.’

Bradley scoffs, half-annoyed and half-fond. ‘Asshole. Have fun.’

The dance floor clears up, just enough to see that you’re right there. Leaning against the bar in your dress like a dirty daydream, talking to the bartender, and he couldn’t just let you go without a word. He thought about it, and he simply couldn’t.

“Oi, where are you off to?” His teammate Martin hollers, while the others watch him make his way to the bar in determined strides.

He squeezes past patrons across this jungle of a club, hoping to God that somebody hasn’t beaten him to talk to you yet, or you haven’t ducked out completely. Oh fuck. You’re still there, though. Good. You’re still at the bar, still glimmering under the mirrorball. Just a tap on the shoulder away. You can do it, Bradshaw…

“Excuse me, I—”

You feel the hand on your shoulder just as you turn and stand up, and in a flurry of miscoordination, looks up just as the other person moves in.

In a stroke of dumb luck, Bradley feels the top of your head slamming up against his nose and he groans in pain. “Ohh!”

“Shit! Oh my God…” you gasp, reaching out to the man in front of you. He’s tall, very tall, and you can’t quite see his face with his massive hand clutching his nose. “I’m so sorry…”

“No, it’s okay. My bad…” It really doesn’t seem like it, so he lets go of his nose and smiles sheepishly. Gosh, he must’ve looked stupid right now.

But you see it differently. What you see is a dashing man in a sleek tieless navy suit and a well-groomed mustache, straight out of a Cinemascope flick, ever so handsome despite his reddened nose from the way you just accidentally headbutted him. “No, that was totally mine. Are you okay?”

Your eyes are crystal clear even in the dim light, the concern is palpable in your gaze—and rightly so. It’s just that he’d take the headbutt any day, if it means he can look at your beautiful face. “I’m… I’m swell. Y/N, right?”

There’s a shift in your gaze. First, alert—you’re assessing how much of a potential threat this person is, whether they’re gonna be weird about you— and then it relaxes. Not a threat. Then a slightest hint of mischief, like she wants to know what kind of dynamics they would have. “Have we met?”

And boy, can he.

“We haven’t, actually. But I went to your show at Wembley earlier this week. You were amazing.” He offers a handshake. “Bradley Bradshaw.”

You didn’t quite catch his name over the blaring music, although you shake his hand anyway. “Sorry?” 

He leans into your ear, “I’m Bradley Bradshaw.”

You don’t know which one makes your heart skip, the sudden close proximity, the warmth of his timbre, or the whiff of his perfume.

“Right. Nice to meet you, Bradley Bradshaw.” You accept his handshake, hoping he doesn’t see how flustered you are in the strobing purple light.

“Likewise.” He nods with a smile. “And may I just say… you look stunning.”

“What, this old thing?” You brush down the art nouveau-inspired Balmain dress on your body. You’re just being modest, of course; you know you’re dressed to the nines. You have never been much into facial hair, but somehow that mustache suits him very well. “You don’t look so bad yourself. You remind me of a… young Robert Mitchum. Or Paul Newman— or one of those Golden Age leading men.”

His face lights up. It’s hardly the first time he received that kind of compliment, but when it came from you, it feels… different. It feels special. It makes him just a little bolder. “Yeah? Maybe after a few drinks, I’ll be quoting lines from Butch Cassidy. Or would you prefer Cat On A Hot Tin Roof?”

This piques your interest. A man of culture, it seems. But of course, you can’t be too sure. “I’m more of a Paris Blues kinda gal, I’m afraid.”

Gosh, you don’t swoon so easily and he likes you so much for that. “Makes sense.”

“How so?”

“It’s a good underrated musical movie, for the musically gifted… And Sidney Poitier was just fantastic in that.”

“Huh.” You raise your eyebrows. You honestly thought he was just spouting the famous titles. But the fact that he has likely seen this hidden gem might just mean he’s really into it. “Aren’t you full of surprises.”

He leans in to speak in your ear yet again. “If you stick with me for a bit, I might show you another surprise or two.”

The music drowns out your racing heart just barely, and the bartender places a whole set of tequila shots on the bar top, and it snaps you out of your reverie for a moment. 

“Wanna get some air?”

He seems surprised, but of course he wasn’t gonna throw away this shot. “Sure. Why not?”

You instruct the bartender to send the shots to your booth, not even spending ten seconds to ponder staying in this deafening hell hole. Not when this man looks like peace. Perhaps an undercurrent of mystery underneath, but his whole demeanor is as calm and comforting as those old-school movies you put on to fall asleep. At the same time, something about this person pulls you in, it’s almost magnetic, and you can’t help wanting to see this through.

[ghost-proofbaby]

SO SCARLET (IT WAS MAROON)

CHAPTER EIGHT: LOML

AND I'LL STILL SEE IT, UNTIL I DIE - YOU'RE THE LOSS OF MY LIFE.

☆ pairings: rockstar!eddie munson x fem!reader

☆ warnings: no use of y/n, strong language, angst, consumption of alcohol, (overly poetic) smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, technically unprotected sex even after the idiots discussed protection, minors dni

☆ WC: 3.9K+

☆ A/N: extremely sorry for the shortest chapter in this series yet. also, out of all the songs referenced for the title of chapters, this one might be the most on the nose. i kid you not, i cannot explain how perfectly loml encapsulates reader/sugar's emotions during this chapter. if you'd like the extra hurt, 10/10 recommends listening as you read. :)

thank you to my love @hellfire--cult for the divider!

masterlist

 “Can I kiss you, Sugar?” 

You’ve made your fair share of dumb decisions in your life. Plenty of moments have slipped right between your fingers due to hesitation that you’d later regret, you have a catalog of embarrassing encounters to serve you a lifetime. You’ve said yes when your answer should have been a resounding no, you’ve made promises you knew were impossible to keep, and you’ve always had an unexplainable habit of digging yourself into graves that will surely bury you alive. 

This moment is no different. 

The correct reaction is to tell him no, to push him away and end the night here. You should leave before either of you make any mistakes and ruin whatever fragile thing resides between the two of you any further. There’s a million other options you should be taking, but at the end of the day, you still nod your head. 

Not even a second later, Eddie’s lips are on yours, and it’s hard to call it a mistake when it’s the first time you’ve felt like you could properly breathe in two years. 

He tastes like bourbon, and mistakes, and regret, and a youthful type of love impossible to grasp onto. A vague memory you never get to hold, but always learn to miss. When his hands travel slowly to your hips, you’re only pressing closer, deepening the kiss with the desperation of someone starved. Someone stained. 

You were an idiot to think it wouldn’t end this way. You were in his apartment, and you were drunk. You were brimming with bad decisions. It was always going to end up this way. 

Your knees somehow end up digging into the sofa cushions on either side of his hips, your recollection of how you climbed into his lap nonexistent. Had it been his doing, his own needy hands guiding you here? Or had it been you? You, with an ache that rang throughout your entire body, soothed only by sharing each of his breaths with him when he finally pulls back from the kiss. 

“Are you sure you want thi-”

“Don’t ruin it,” you beg, silencing him as you look into those deep autumn eyes, memorizing rivets of soft auburn that never really changed. An ever changing kaleidoscope, but there were simply parts of Eddie he’d never be able to hide from you,to change, “Not yet. Please.”

You don’t know if you’ll want it come morning. You can’t estimate just how deeply the regret will burrow once it’s all said and done; you’re not in the mood to think sensibly. No hypotheticals, no curiosity for the future. 

You just want him. Right here, right now. Far beyond just sex, and far beyond casual touches. But it’s the only way you can have him, the only way he can have you, for now. 

His fingers are more skilled these days. More deft and nimble as they race up and down your sides, quickly undoing the button of your jeans and easily sneaking beneath your shirt. Two years could be two seconds with the way he still knows you and your body, knowing exactly where to apply more pressure as he plucks on every string beneath your skin that makes you sing out for him. Hums, gasps, moans – they all sort of blend together at some point, don’t they? 

“I’ve missed you,” you swear you hear him mumble against the skin of your neck when his mouth begins to wander, “I’ve missed this.” 

You convince yourself he didn’t say it just to avoid ripping yourself apart any further.  

Instead, you busy your mouth with kissing him harder, faster, more desperately. You’re all but burying yourself in him. Your hips grinding against his, your lips swallowed in his, your hands finding themselves tangled in his hair. 

You’re drunk enough that you convince yourself that this is it – this is home. 

It feels natural to let him run you down this way. It’s instinctual as he takes his shirt off and your hands roam over bare skin that whispers with the ridges of paths you’ve traced before. You know that scar on his right hip from when he got his appendix removed as a child, you know that lightened patch of skin on his left thumb from when he’d managed to burn himself with a lighter while cutting class one day with you. You know him – so much better than you’d let yourself believe these last few weeks. 

“Do you have a condom?” you pant, and you both pretend like your words are choked up from gasping to recover the air you’d offered to the kiss, and not the emotions rearing their ugly heads. 

He does. Of course he does. He’s a rockstar now – he has women throwing themselves at him constantly. Of course he’s prepared. 

It happens somewhere between him pulling the condom out of his wallet, and managing to pull his own shirt off. At some point in which you’re left in nothing but your undergarments, hips grinding down on his in sloppy circles, he lets out a low and drawn out moan. All your movements stutter, nearly halting, as that sound rings out around you. You swear, it echoes off the walls of your own head and not the eerily empty apartment. 

You break as you gasp out, “Fuck, Eddie.” 

Another dumb decision for the books. All it takes is you sighing his name for him to flip the entire script. Suddenly, you’re no longer straddling his lap, no longer biting his lip and gripping onto the back of the sofa for balance. 

Your back collides with the cushions below and he hovers over you, kissing with more intent and purpose this time. Each press of his lips is followed by the nipping of teeth, desperately trying to mark you up along your chest, completely oblivious to the way he’s already left his stain. 

You’re convinced if he presses his lips just hard enough, if he bares his teeth just sharp enough, he’ll see right through you. Your skin will become all but cellophane and he’ll see all those blooming violets and deep maroons still left behind in the shape of his mouth. He’ll see the way another has never followed these paths, not after him. 

All the failed rebounds, all the failed distractions. There’s never been another person capable of taking your mind off of Eddie Munson. No one’s kiss ever made you bleed the way he’s capable, no one’s touch could ever erase the mark of his. 

The wine still makes your head swim as your chin tilts to the roof, giving him all the room possible to paint whatever picture he’s vying for on your skin. You let him leave his physical mark; you let him leave a physical reminder of something to regret. 

“Do you know how many times I played this moment back over in my head?” his voice is a murmur that vibrates against your sternum, words not quite slurring, “Do you know how many times I swore-”

You don’t know – and you never find out what exactly he had sworn time and time again as the trill ringing of a cell phone shatters the entire atmosphere. 

One moment, Eddie’s lips are painting portraits along your chest and neck, the acceptance of making a mistake settling deep into your bones. And the next, he’s lifting up, looking wildly towards his kitchen, where you’re sure that it’s his phone buzzing erratically on the counter. 

“I-” he looks wildly between you and the distant phone, pupils blown out and lips swollen, “Fuck, I-”

All the air leaves your lungs.

There will be no mistakes tonight. 

“Go answer it,” you whisper, deflating as you accept the interruption. The moment’s over, fading in between the lipstick marks on your wine glass and the glow of the lamps scattered throughout his living room, “It’s fine.” 

It’s not fine. It’s written plainly across his face that this is the furthest thing from fine at this moment. But duty calls; his phone is ringing, your mind is buzzing, and the moment is simply gone. 

It has to be fine. You have to be fine with it. 

“I’ll be right back,” he swears as he lifts himself up off the couch, but you know he won’t be. 

Your shirt is already back by the time he’s reached the counter, laptop already tucked safely back into your bag as he answers the call. 

“Hello?” he asks, eyes flitting over to you as he watches you gather your things, picking up the wine glass that had been yours the entire night in order to carry it over to the sink he leans against the counter next to. A bit of chatter comes from over the line, and Eddie’s entire face twists, “Am I busy? Yeah, yeah – as a matter of fact, I am.” 

Just as you sit the glass into the sink, you bring a hand to his bicep, letting it rest there selfishly. Feeling his bare skin one final time, drinking in the heat he radiates through your palm, giving yourself one last chance to memorize it. 

You’re not busy, you mouth to him with a sad smile. 

He’s not. Because there will be no mistakes tonight. 

You go to pull your hand away, prepared to somehow call an Uber or taxi, but he’s quick to wrap his fingers around your wrist just as your skin slides from his. It’s not forceful, but simply firm. Clinging with a desperation you can’t recognize. 

Stay, he mouths back, the person over the line clearly continuing to speak without Eddie paying them any mind.

You almost do. You falter and consider dropping your bag then and there. You nearly stay, wait out the phone call, sit pretty and patient until he returns to you just as he had promised. 

But he had left you with a promise of later once before, and he hadn’t kept his promise then. 

“Oh,” you whispered, disappointment gripping your lungs, “Oh, that’s fine! Go, they need you.”

“Yeah,” he chuckled. You missed hearing that in person, that soft laughter in the shell of your ear over inside jokes and one too many glasses of wine. “Rockstar duties and all. We’ll talk more later?”

Later had never found its way back to the two of you all those years ago – why would it now? 

“I’ll see you tomorrow, Eds,” you whisper, soft enough to guarantee whoever was on the other side of the phone call wouldn’t hear you. The fall of his face is almost enough to make you take back the words and swallow them back down. 

“Wait-” he’s not whispering, almost as though he’s forgotten about the call entirely. You can hear the silence over the line, probably in confusion, as you walk away, “Wait- No- I-”

You motion to the phone still pressed to his ear and cheek, trying to remind him that someone else can hear. 

He removes it and ends the call before you can protest.

“Eddie-” you start to scold, but he refuses to hear any of it. 

“No, no,” he sounds as though he might be begging. And you can’t tell if he’s begging you to not reprimand him, or if he’s begging you to not leave, “I don’t care. It was just Matt, he can wait till morning.” 

It doesn’t answer the question of what he wanted from you. 

“It’s getting late, anyways,” you’re still trying to detect your escape route, the longer you spend in the aftermath making your chest tighten more and more.

You can’t do this. 

You can’t stand in this room with him and pretend that it’s all okay. You can’t act as though the wine’s effects are slipping away from you and you can’t brush off the feeling of his lips across your chest. You have no patience left to act as though your lungs aren’t shriveling up in your chest, unable to get enough air when he’s too close all while being all too far away. 

It would have been a mistake, and you’re both better for the interruption. 

Eddie shakes his head, letting out a dry laugh, “We aren’t doing this again, Sugar. We aren’t going to just pretend that didn’t happen-”

“Why not?” you challenge him, “This… it’s better this way, Eddie. If we kept it up, we both would have regretted it, and it’d just be another mistake-”

“Who’s we?” he cuts you off. 

We. You, me, both of us. We’d both regret it, wouldn’t we? 

But you still didn’t regret kissing him. You still didn’t regret sitting in his lap and drinking him in, you still wouldn’t take back whatever moment was shared prior to the phone’s interruption. 

All your regrets are spoken in future tense. All the mistakes are somewhere ahead of you, your mind running to things that haven’t happened yet.

How do you know if you’d regret it? How do you know if he’d regret it?

Your hold on your bag begins to loosen, “I- Both of us. We’d both regret it.” 

“I wouldn’t regret it. I don’t think I could ever regret you.” 

This is the part you walk away. You sling your bag onto your shoulder, you tell him to have a goodnight, and you leave. You’ll see him tomorrow, and you’ll pretend this conversation never happened. 

Except you don’t.

Your bag falls to the ground, a muted crash that probably pisses off his downstairs neighbors. The toes of your shoes knock into the worn bag, kicking it to the side with more gentleness than you should be capable of right now. When he reaches out a hand to hold you, you take it. 

You let him get his hot palms back on your body. You let his lips find their way back to yours. 

You finally just let the mistake happen and take the chance on finding out if the regret is nothing more than shadows in the closet, make-believe once you turn the light back on. 

The couch isn’t the destination this time. You’re almost sad that you don’t get to admire any of his decor as he drags you down the hallway, but you also doubt there’s even a sliver of the ghost of the man holding onto you in any of it. He’s not on the walls, he’s not in the pictures; he’s right in front of you, kissing you heavily and desperately, letting his feet stumble right over yours as he finally reaches blindly for the knob of the door behind you. He’s in the rings pressing into the skin of your hips and he’s in the wavering cologne that bursts from his sheets as he carefully drops you back on a bed far too large for one man. 

He’s in the shadow hovering over you, he’s in the slide of his leg as he spreads your thighs to find home between them. He may not haunt this apartment, but he haunts you. Your body, your mind, your senses. 

Always have, always will. 

Alcohol isn’t clouding the moment anymore as each kiss is gentler, retracing the bruises already forming across your collar bones. He’s taking his time, enjoying himself, no longer rushing through the process of getting to know you again. The loss of your shirt and the unbuttoning of your jeans is done with shaking hands this time. Less sure, but far more determined. 

Your own hands are steady, though, as you undress him. You’re sure. This is your mistake to make, your mistake to regret. And maybe he had a point – maybe it is impossible for either of you to regret each other. For all the tears shed and all the nights spent cursing his name, it’s never once crossed your tongue that you wanted to erase him. You think if someone were to try and take him, take all that you two had shared together from you, that they’d be met with white knuckles and deathly screams. A rancid animal foaming at the mouth, refusing to let go of the one thing it had ever managed to sink its claws into. 

You’d forgotten just how well you know him. 

It was beyond superficial scars and childhood stories. You still remember the exact pulse point that makes him moan out with just a brush of your mouth against it. You can still find that spot above his hips that spasm when your hands grip them, encouraging him to grind down onto you. You know his body, you know his past, you know his mind. 

Words are no longer necessary as it finally happens. 

Prayers of each other’s name, ignorance in the way this entire moment was becoming too gentle for two fools rekindling. A practiced dance you once only ever dreamt of swaying to with him. 

You would have given him everything. You did give him everything. Your youth, your future, your aspirations, your daydreams of a glittering gem on your sacred finger and a list of baby names the two of you had argued over endlessly. All those things still belong to him, even now. Even as this new version of him hovers over you, lips trailing with purpose over your abdomen, making his way down to your core. 

You can’t tell if he’s a stranger when he places a hot kiss over the cotton of your underwear. You can’t tell if you ever spent two years away from him as his hands hold down your hips when they buck in response. 

“Eddie,” you beg, fingers lacing into his curls just as they had earlier, gripping onto him for dear life. You’re looking down at him between your thighs, refusing to blink on the off chance that he’ll simply vanish when you do, “Please.” 

“Please what, Sugar?” 

“Touch me,” you gasp out as his fingers toy with the waistband of your underwear, colossus course against soft skin, “Kiss me, fuck me- I just-” 

No further explanation is needed. Your wish is his command. 

Your panties are tossed to the hardwood floor at the edge of the bed as if they always belonged there. His mouth ravishes you as if this was just a nightly routine between the two of you. As if he didn’t have to second think what pace you might prefer, or when to add the first finger. Or the second. He plays you beautifully, crooking his fingers and nipping at sensitive skins and nerves alike, listening to the way you only seem to remember his name. Like you don’t remember the sound of a dial tone instead of declarations of adoration, like you don’t remember the excuses for him denying you all his attention. 

You wish you could just stay in this moment forever. Him, buried between your thighs. All hurt and all stains forgotten when he builds you up to the edge, when he murmurs against your clit about how pretty you look for him right now. 

Cheap wine soaking Halloween costumes. Hazy rooms, smokey with youthful desires and incense. Dancing in an apartment filled with boxes not yet unpacked. Whispers of something being real. Late night trips to the gas station and all the pride in your eyes as you heard his song played on public radio for the first time. The terrible waiting, the messy kisses of more teeth than lips. A simple necklace adorned with a simple ring, burning with more promises than either can comprehend, still gathering dust at the bottom of your jewelry box to this day. 

Just in case. Just in case he ever came back; just in case you ever returned. 

By the time he’s climbing back up your body, you have one foot in the past, cleaving yourself in two as you cling to him like water. 

“Look at you,” he whispers when his face is back above yours, lips still slick with you, “You’re fucking beautiful, you know that?” 

You swear, for just a moment, his eyes are mirrors. And you can see that dazed look you wear, the face of a woman still trapped by her past. The face of someone who can’t let the dead stay buried. Someone you wouldn’t describe as beautiful, but Eddie would. 

You should have left. You should be regretting this. You only pull him closer. 

His boxers bunch at his ankles, your fingernails dig into his back. When you feel him press against you, the tip of his dick just barely tapping against your clit, your entire body tenses. This was it. This was the mistake you had taken responsibility for, this was the choice you’d decided was worth damnation. A simple slip up, a quick fall backwards, and you’ll be right back where you started two years ago. 

“You still want this?” he sighs into your ear, clearly feeling the way you’d froze up. 

Your breath catches for just a second. More memories, more images that cut straight through you. Every careless afternoon, every serene morning. Every haunted night. 

“Yeah,” your entire body relaxes, muscle by muscle, “Yeah, I still want this.” 

You mean more than just the sex. 

The press of your heels into his lower back is all the encouragement he needs to finally push into you. The stretch burns, but it’s welcome all the same. Just an aftereffect of years of emptiness, of failing to ever find something that could make you feel as whole as he does. 

The moan he lets out as he’s wrapped in your warmth sends shivers down your spine. You swear, laced in it, there lies a gasp of relief. A sigh of coming home after a long tour, the huff of an exhale just before he crosses the threshold of a front door and has you in his arms again. 

You don’t know when the tears started. 

But between his thrusts, between all his wanton groans and your own quivers of excitement, your cheeks turn wet. 

“Then I say let it burn.”

You can’t tell if it’s sweat or his own tears seeping into your skin as your bodies press together harder, your head thrown back in ecstasy. 

“I love you so goddamn much, it hurts. I can’t believe this is real.” 

You find your hands tugging on the roots of his curls even harder as you try to tether yourself back to him, but it’s no use. 

“When I get back, all I care about is you.” 

It all comes crashing down on both of you as his face is buried in the crook of your neck and your thighs squeeze around his hips – all the love that was there, all the love that was lost. All the love that still remains. 

“Something for you to always have as a reminder that I’ll come back to you. You’re it for me, sweetheart.”

He’d always warned you this would happen. That one day he’d come back to you. That he’d only ever come back for you. 

It doesn’t matter how deep of scratches you leave across his back, or how many hickies he paints your skin with. There will never be enough bloodshed between the two of you to wash away the truth. It’s not a mistake, it’s not something to regret. You wish it was; you wish it were so simple. No, this moment was one thing and one thing only – inevitable. 

They always did say that your life would flash before your eyes right before you die. 

And flash it does – a lifetime of love that was had and love that will never come back to you – as Eddie brings you both to your graves from the most cursed of little deaths.

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[cherryslyce]

Second Son (III) | Regulus Black

Series Synopsis: Forbidden from contacting Harry over the summer, you opt to explore the eerie halls of Grimmauld Place where you stumble upon a lonely portrait of the House's second son.

— Chapter Synopsis: The school year begins and all seems lost when Undersecretary Umbridge is assigned as the new DADA professor. That is until Hermione and Ron approach Harry and Y/N with the idea to form Dumbledore's Army (Regulus disapproves, naturally).

Part II / Part IV / Series Masterlist

Pairing: Regulus Black x GN!Reader

Notes: Cursing, Not Canon Compliant

The talk with Sirius and Co. was tiresome. Actually, talk was a lenient way to put it, it was much more of an interrogation. Apparently, Sirius and Kreacher got into a spat (what a surprise) and the house elf let it slip that you had "found Master Regulus".

Hermione and Ron tried to dissuade Sirius from making it into a big deal, but alas they were unsuccessful (not to mention they wanted answers as well).

Luckily, Sirius had very little faith in Kreacher and you only told him that you found old photos of Regulus, and Kreacher happened to stumble upon your discovery.

Kreacher was very willing to corroborate your story in order to get back in your--Regulus‘, good graces.

For now, your explanation satisfied the others, but you knew that Harry had an idea that there was more to the story than you were letting on. Fortunately, Harry had always been a loyal friend and he wouldn't push you to tell him anything if you didn't want to.

It seemed you had a penchant for finding reliable friends.

Regulus was displeased with the turn of events and looked ready to scold a mournful Kreacher, but opted to just let out a disgruntled sigh.

"It doesn't matter anymore, I knew you'd be able to take care of it." Was what he told you after Kreacher left with a grateful cry.

Summer receded off the coast and autumn began to roll onto London, first painting the trees in kaleidoscopes of oranges before bringing tides of cool wind.

Your fifth year at Hogwarts was about to kick off and you were practically bouncing around at the prospect of being able to bring Regulus with you.

"Harry's hearing went just as I presumed it would."

"Oh? Looking to take up a post as Hogwarts Divination Professor, Reg?"

The boy merely rolled his eyes, deciding to grace you with the gift of an answer despite your smart mouth.

"It was obvious that Fudge would aim to discredit Harry. But, Dumbledore is quite the political force, and many are still willing to side with Harry even if they think he's lying about the Dark Lord. Harry may not feel it though. Bad press will always stand louder than uncertain support."

Ever the intellect.

"I guess so. Harry's still riled about it, but there's not much he can do since he was cleared of his charges. Merlin forbid he was expelled. I can't even imagine how dismal Hogwarts would be without everyone's favorite lion."

You continued to pack away your textbooks in your school trunk, murmuring tiredly under your breath at the idea of the inevitable increase in workload and the studying for O.W.L's.

"Are you excited?"

"Reg, you do understand that we face a new threat every single year, correct? Of course I'm excited."

There was no sarcasm in your tone, and you were being completely honest. Threats to your life would only serve to teach you further about the constraints and possibilities of magic. After all, you were certain the Dark Lord would stop at nothing until you were all dead, so you might as well learn as much as you can in the meantime.

"Just be cautious."

"Are you getting soft on me, Reggie? If you keep going I might think you actually care for me."

"Don't be daft, you know how I feel. Now, don't forget about the pouch I gave you."

You weren't going to antagonize him because you were almost certain he did care for you, but you weren't sure if you'd live long enough for him to actually tell you.

Reaching for the emerald green pouch laid atop your bed, you eagerly pulled it open. You never got the chance to examine its contents due to being interrogated by Sirius, but you were sure it was something important because of Regulus‘ insistence that you take it with you.

Reaching inside, you feel around the velvet interior until you feel something cool press against your fingertips.

Pulling it out, you gape as you realized it was a ring. A thick silver band with two snakes wrapping around it.

"Reg?"

"It's a gift. It was the ring I usually wore around in my youth. It's charmed to heat up when someone tries to use legilimency on you or when you're near poison. It served me well, now it will help you."

You twirl the band around your fingers and a small smile paints your lips as you try to suppress the burning in your eyes.

"Thank you Reg. I'm touched that you trust me so much with your possessions. I guess now I really have no excuse if I die."

"Exactly. So try your best--no, you have to live." His eyes were hard with conviction before they softened again when you nodded, "Good. You should put it on later, Sirius will definitely recognize it."

You couldn't find it in yourself to move on from Regulus‘ gift, even now as you were weaving around people.

The ring pressed gently against your chest as you walked with Harry down King's Cross, your new precious item was hidden away underneath your shirt on a necklace chain.

Regulus was tucked away inside your jacket like usual, the rectangular frame occasionally hitting against your ribs as you moved.

Sirius was paces away in his animagus form, too reluctant to let Harry leave with a simple goodbye at the door. You were happy that Harry had such a supportive adult figure in his life, but a part of you couldn't help but want him to leave quickly so you could slip on the ring.

The dog-man quickly trotted into an empty seating room, Harry leaving your side to talk to his godfather. As Moody and Tonks guarded the doorway of the room, you opted to give the aurors a brief nod before making your way to the platform first.

You admired them both to a varying degree, but you couldn't quite warm up to Moody after your Fourth Year debacle with his death eater imposter.

It was still hard to get the image of him, or rather the image of polyjuice him, making Neville uncomfortable in class.

Navigating your way around the swarm of people, soon you found yourself on the familiar platform.

Reaching into your shirt, you pulled out your necklace chain, twirling it around your neck before unclasping it and sliding Regulus‘ ring out.

It was a pretty thing, and you found yourself imagining the two snakes on the band as you and Regulus.

Propping your trunk up against one of the brick pillars, you fix your necklace before slipping the ring onto your left index finger, spelling it to fit you.

Thank merlin for magic.

Raising your hand up towards the sky, you observe the way the sunlight reflects off the silver. As you continued to admire it, you realized that someone's stopped beside you.

"Merlin! Harry?!"

The boy in question jumps at your exclamation, the distant look in his eyes being drowned out by realization. It was apparent that he was only present enough to recognize you in the crowd, but too lost in thought to realize what was going on.

"Oh, sorry. Should we board now?"

Without waiting for an answer, he reaches behind you and lugs your trunk behind him, starting to get lost in his head again as he walks towards the train.

As the both of you sit and wait for Hermione and Ron, he wordlessly reaches into his pocket, pulling out a folded photo. He hands it to you with a forlorn look in his eyes, watching as you carefully unfold the paper.

Are those?

As if reading your thoughts, he supplies you with a quiet answer, "My parents. And the Order."

"Fuck. From Sirius?"

"Yeah."

"Fuck."

Running your finger over the smiling faces of Lily and James Potter, you send a silent thank you for their sacrifice.

Your concern for Harry only ceased once you arrived at the castle.

Sitting down in the dining hall brought a surge of serotonin through your body. It was the closest thing you had to a home and being able to greet the cold walls and aged windows after every summer brought you great joy.

Looking in Harry's direction, you frown in concern as you see him eyeing the staff table in shock. Your confusion is swept away as a high-pitched voice cuts through Dumbledore's welcome speech.

A woman who was strangely reminiscent of a toad carefully made her way around the table and towards Dumbledore. From the way Harry began to furiously whisper to Hermione, you were certain that she was the reason for his sudden change in behavior.

Dumbledore and Snape looked faintly displeased with her interruption and your eyes started to hurt from the abomination of pink monotone that made her stand out.

You had an unfortunate feeling that the source of your fifth year misery had arrived.

And you were correct. Of course.

It had only been a week into your classes and you were seething violently, much like the rest of your friends.

"And do you know what she said Reggie?"

"What?" He mused in curiosity, his eyes alight at your foreign frustration.

"We're only going to be learning the theories! Because apparently if we know the theories well enough, the application of spells will just magically come to us!"

Your hands were flying around wildly as you recalled her words, your body bouncing around on your bed due to your gestures.

Regulus chuckled at your despair, eyes twinkling brightly like he had just received the best news of his life.

"Yeah, yeah, laugh it off. I'm glad my misery is enjoyable to you, but I'm being serious! I just don't know what we should do! The DADA curse is really screwing us over here."

Seeming to take pity on your genuine distress, he begins to placate you, "Y/N, it's fine. I'll teach you if you want. Just tell me what spells and theories you're covering and I'll guide you."

Oh?

The grin that stretches across your face almost hurts and you fall back onto your bed, letting his offer run around your head with a content sigh.

"Y/N? Have you died?"

"Still here." Your answer comes out muffled as you bring your hand to cover your bright smile.

"Don't seem too happy, I'm a strict teacher."

"Yeah, yeah. Reg. I could kiss you right now! Seriously, thank you, you're too good to me."

Regulus doesn't respond to your words and he was sure that you weren't even aware of what you were saying, but he was glad you couldn't hear the way his heart was racing.

"No matter, just get some sleep."

"Hm? What will you do then? It's still pretty early."

"I'll just watch over you like always. Prop me up on your nightstand would you, I want to see outside."

"Yes, yes. Anything else you require my liege?" Your teasing is met with a deadpan look as you carefully rest his portrait frame against the stack of books on your nightstand.

"Y/N, sleep."

You let out an indignant huff and turn your body towards your bedside, facing Regulus as he begins to gaze outside your dorm window. Luckily, your nightstand was on the far end of the dorm room and would be out of view from anyone coming through.

"Goodnight, Reg."

"Sweet dreams, Y/N."

Luckily, slumber came quickly that night.

You should have known that your brief period of rest would soon be interrupted. It was basically the first warning that came attached to being involved with the Golden Trio. You just didn't realize that your peace would be disturbed the very next day.

"Are you positive that this is a great idea?"

"If Umbridge refuses to teach us, we need someone who will."

You stare at Hermione in consideration, "And that person is Harry?"

She nods confidently, her eyes blazing in determination. Clearly, they were going to move forward with this plan whether or not you were in.

"Okay. So Hog's Head then?"

"Yes. We can't possibly manage to keep this under wraps inside the castle walls. We'll come by and get you tomorrow."

"Merlin ‘Mione. I hope that this turns out well. For all of our sakes."

"It has to. Sirius said it himself, You Know Who is on the move."

Bloody Dark Lord and his murderous agenda spoiling your years of childhood.

There wasn't much that needed to be said after that and you both bid each other a quick farewell. You quickly headed to your dorm and let out a sigh of relief to see the room empty.

Plopping down on your bed, you flip open the charms textbook Regulus recommended, eyes darting around for a possible communication charm.

This was going to take forever, might as well get some help.

Fishing around your robes, you pull out Regulus‘ portrait and beam down at his unimpressed face.

"There's no way you're actually considering running along with that ragtag defense club now, are you?" Isn't he just pleasant today.

"Nice to see you too, Reg. Hermione's idea sounds interesting enough, besides friends need to support each other's endeavors."

Regulus looked like he was a few moments away from releasing a snort, but just shook his head. His neat curls jumped around his face and you had to stop yourself from getting too entranced by the sight.

"I suppose that makes sense, after all I would do the same for you. Though, you are already learning from me, no?" Regulus‘ words made your heart skip a beat, but you tried your best to play it off.

"Yes, and as much as I love Harry, you will always be my number one teacher." He looked all too pleased by your words and you shook your head fondly, "Don't let it get to your head though. Now, let's read through this book together, shall we?"

And as you both read through the pages of the book, you couldn't help but selfishly want more. You couldn't help but wonder how different everything would be if Regulus wasn't a portrait, but rather alive and well and attending Hogwarts with you.

It just added to your fury towards Voldemort. He had taken enough from the world, and you couldn't wait to drive a curse through him and live the rest of your life in peace.

tag list: @krazyk99 @venomsvl @valsarchives @bunny24sstuff @novella12nite

[kingofbodyrolls]

My Heart's Home (m) | pjm | five

🐴Chapter summary: You return home to the ranch, and finally get to call it home again. Jimin helps you move your stuff and you gradually feel yourself fall more and more for him.  🐴Chapter title: Our Home, Our Place 🐴Pairings: jimin x reader (main), jungkook x reader (only happens once in the first chapter), jungkook x OC (jessi), namjoon x OC (jessi), yoongi x hoseok, namjoon x oc, seokjin x oc, taehyung x oc 🐴Characters: female reader (isn’t mentioned by name and no “y/n”), Jimin, Jungkook, Namjoon, Yoongi, Hoseok, Seokjin, Taehyung and four female original characters. 🐴Genre/AU: ranch!au, slice of life!au, soulmate!au, cowboy!au + smut, humor, fluff, romance, slow burn and angst 🐴Rating: mature/explicit/R18 – this is mature/explicit content, so minors, please do not interact!

🐴Disclaimer: I do not own BTS or know them personally and this work of fiction is purely fictional and for entertainment purposes only. The actions and personalities described in the story do not reflect those of BTS— it’s just fiction. Also, if you would kindly read the tags/warnings before reading, that would be lovely: and if you don’t like whatever is described in the tags, just hit return and find something else to read. Thank you 🌸 🐴Chapter warnings: fluff with fluff on top 🤭 Also, there’s a piano that deserves a warning 👀 🐴Status: completed (the epilogue is in the works!) 🐴Word count: 11k 🐴Taglist: @kookswifesblog, @kiki-zb, @babejinnie, @ownthesunshine, @allie-is-a-panda, @glllhjh, @bergandysam, @13-manggaetteok, @jeonsbabygirlsworld,

*tumblr isn’t letting me tag you! There could be a lot of reasons for that, check out this lovely post about it.

🐴Now playing 💿 “This is Home” by Kate Voegele. [Wanna listen to the serie’s playlist?] 🐴Author’s note: MWAH! There’s just so much sexual tension in this, it is so damn fluffy and I loved writing it!! The tension was so palpable that I was so fucking close to giving in and let them have some well needed fun and a release (read= smut)— but no!!! Not yet 👿 I really hope you like this one!! Please let me know, okay? 🥹✨

Also, I am fully aware that this isn't Monday (at least in my timezone), but I just really wanted to post it and I've been thinking about changing the post days...

It’s been cross posted to AO3 if you prefer to read there. Wanna see the book cover?

← previous | s.masterlist | m.masterlist |  next →

“Don't give up Try one more time We won't give up Let me help you Let me care Walk beside me I'll be there So don't give up Don't walk away” - ‘Don’t Give Up’ by Rebecca Lavelle

The tires of your car dig into the sandy dirt road with an unwavering resolve, each groove in the rugged terrain a testament to your journey. Your hands firmly clasp the steering wheel, the same determination coursing through you as it did months ago, yet this time, the air is charged with a different energy. You traverse the landscape, carrying not burdens but tidings of joy, and the road ahead unfolds like a welcoming embrace.

The sand and dust perform an ethereal dance before the windshield, a choreography of particles that somehow feels like nature's celebration. As you welcome the familiar landscape with open arms, the mountains maintain their majestic stance in the distance, towering sentinels against the canvas of the sky.

The car becomes a rolling symphony, pulsating with happy melodies that mirrors your newfound joy. An upbeat song reverberates through the vehicle, harmonizing with the rhythm of your contentment. 

Yet, beneath the surface of your happiness, there's a current of nervous anticipation, a symphony of emotions playing as you approach the threshold of home.

Anticipation tightens its grip on your heart as you ponder the impending reunion with Jessi. 

Will she swing the door open with open arms, or will it slam shut in rejection? The possibilities dance like shadows in your mind — a kaleidoscope of emotions waiting to unfold. 

Will her reaction be a thunderous scream, a fiery expulsion, or a demand to go, leaving the echoes of your past behind?

You fervently pray that won't be the case, your fingers tightening around the steering wheel as if clinging to the last shreds of hope. The grit in your resolve intensifies, bolstered by the weight of the positive news you carry back with you. 

In your heart, the fervent wish lingers: that this return won't be met with closed doors but with the open arms of a hopeful tomorrow. You reassure yourself, whispering to the wind, that the news you bear will be the bridge to mend fractured ties.

You cling to the steering wheel, fingers entwined, desperately yearning for Jessi to embrace your decision with the same warmth that radiates in your heart. 

As you drive, the memories encircle your mind like cherished echoes, their weight lifting off your shoulders. These fleeting recollections become comforting companions, guiding you home with a gentle embrace.

Your car, crammed to the brim with suitcases and bags, feels like a mobile vault of memories and possibilities. The notion of retrieving the rest of your belongings, perhaps with the help of a horse trailer, because you sure do have a lot of stuff!

The sign with your family name emerges like an old friend, triggering a cascade of memories that swirl around you – the carefree days of childhood, laughter echoing with your sister, the enduring camaraderie shared with Jimin, and the intricate tapestry of your adult life woven with triumphs and missteps, a testament to the journey of growing up and finally finding your place on the ranch.

As you draw near to the ranch, a hint of uncertainty flits through your thoughts, but amidst it, a resolute confidence surges within – you reassure yourself that not only can you navigate this return, but everything will unfold seamlessly, and everything will be fine.

Fueled by unwavering determination, you approach the ranch with a mindset that Jessi, with all her emotions, won't sway your resolve. This time, there's no room for surrender; you've learned from past experiences, and the echoes of your previous retreat will not repeat. You're here to stand firm and face whatever challenges lie ahead.

Embracing a resolute spirit, you skillfully guide your car along the serpentine path that descends towards the heart of the ranch.

As the well-known scenery unfolds before you, a subtle unease snakes through your veins. Jessi once demanded you to depart; will she repeat the gesture? 

Yet, your heart clings to the hope that this time, the news of your decision regarding the inheritance will elicit a different reaction, one of understanding and happiness.

The ranch stands unchanged, a testament to time, yet this visit, the burden of yesteryears no longer drapes over you. Instead, a vast sea of possibilities stretches before you, offering a chance to forge a new life, to reconnect with your roots, and to weave a reconciliation with the chapters of your past.

Bringing the car to a halt before the main house, you silence the engine with a decisive twist of the key. A nervous and heavy sigh escapes your lips, intertwining with the palpable anticipation that hangs in the air. Inhaling deeply, you draw in the essence of the moment, your fingers clenching determinedly against the steering wheel. 

This is your moment, and you can do it.

This time, you don't linger in the car to muster your determination. Swiftly, you swing the car door open and inhale the familiar scent of the land you once called home, hoping it will embrace you again. 

Your heart quickens its pace as your sneakers connect with the rugged ground. This is your chance to reclaim what was lost. 

You can do it.

Trekking the uneven terrain in your sneakers becomes a seamless journey. Approaching the imposing front door, you assertively deliver a knock as a polite gesture. However, unlike before, you don't linger in anticipation, choosing instead to take charge of the moment.

With a confident grip on the handle, you assertively push your way into the familiar space, a subtle declaration of ownership echoing in your every step. After all, this is rightfully yours now.

As you stroll down the corridor, a nostalgic echo of your arrival weeks ago, you casually poke your head into the kitchen. To your surprise, Ha-rin is diligently at work, and your sudden appearance startles her, causing a mix of both surprise and curiosity to dance across her features.

An eruption of excitement escapes Ha-rin as she exclaims, “Oh my god! You’re back!” 

Giggles and near-screams accompany her joyful dance, abandoning whatever task held her attention. In an instant, she abandons her work, rushes toward you, and engulfs you in a warm, hearty hug. The embrace becomes a haven, her familiar scent working its magic to soothe your jangled nerves. As you reciprocate the hug, her ebony locks playfully tickle your cheeks, creating a comforting cocoon of familiarity.

Her voice echoes with genuine joy, “We missed you! The others are gonna be so happy to see you back!” Each word resonates with enthusiasm, and she steps back to survey you. Dressed for ranch life, not like you were weeks ago, no heels this time, just your trusty sneakers. Jeans and a shirt complete the ensemble, a departure from the dresses of yestertime, signaling a readiness to embrace the authenticity of ranch living once again.

“Even Jessi?” An arched eyebrow accompanies your question, a low chuckle escaping your lips. You inquire, teasingly probing for details about the reception awaiting you from your sister.

“Yeah!” Her affirmation resonates with genuine warmth, and she continues, “She actually wanted to call you, but I guess she was too stubborn…” 

Ha-rin rolls her eyes as she shares this tidbit, and you feel a subtle acceleration in your heartbeat. Could it be that your sister has genuinely missed you?

Before you can linger on that intriguing piece of information, Ha-rin eagerly ushers you outside, pulling you along as she navigates the yard in search of the rest of the girls.

Ha-rin practically yanks you towards the stables, and as you step inside, you discover Soo-ah and Ara diligently tending to the horse stalls. At the sound of your entrance, they abandon their shovels, rushing towards you with shouts of your name echoing through the stables.

“I hoped you'd be coming back!” Soo-ah exclaims, enveloping you in a warm and tender hug, and Ara follows suit, creating a trio of affectionate embraces. Laughter bubbles up as the three girls express their joy at your return.

Anxiety courses through your veins as you inquire, “Where's Jessi?” 

The anticipation hangs heavy in the air, and you're eager to confront this part of your return.

“I think she’ll be back soon. She’s with Jungkook,” Ara informs you, and Soo-ah and Ha-rin exchange amused glances, their mischievous smiles leaving your face a silent question mark.

Sensing your silent inquiry, Ha-rin shakes her head, “Not like that.”

Not that you mind if that happened. After all, you have no claim over Jungkook, nor do you want one. Your interests and heart lie elsewhere. Still, you'd be genuinely happy for them if they ever get together—though you highly doubt it given how similar they seem, and the fact that she’s currently with Namjoon.

As your laughter resonates through the barn, the rhythmic beat of hoofbeats draws near. Before long, Cinnamon and your sister appear at the barn doors. Jessi's hat sits atop her head, and her brown curls cascade gracefully as she guides Cinnamon to a gentle walk and then a complete stop.

Her eyes fix on you, and an unexpected vulnerability creeps over you, as if you're laid bare for inspection, wondering how she'll respond. However, her gaze remains silent, devoid of anger, and a hint of happiness even appears to dance in her eyes.

Dismounting Cinnamon with effortless grace, she leads him into the barn, drawing closer to you. “Hi,” she greets with a simple nod, her actions speaking louder than words as she proceeds past you, focused on the task of untacking her horse.

“Hey,” you greet, a touch of nerves in your voice despite your determination. 

“I was hoping we could talk?” 

The request hangs in the air, your attempt at steadiness wrestling with the nerves coursing through your veins.

“Absolutely, I'd like that,” she replies, focused on removing Cinnamon's bridle. “I just need to put Cinnamon out in the pasture, and then we can grab a beer on the terrace. You go ahead, I'll join you in a moment.”

“Alright, sounds good,” you reply, a wave of relief washing away most of the nervous tension. You give a friendly wave to Soo-ah and Ara, leaving them to complete the stall cleaning as you and Ha-rin make your way back to the house.

“Jessi seems happy,” you start the conversation while descending towards the house, and Ha-rin glances at you with a warm smile. “I told you she’s been missing you. She’s happy to see you,”  she shares as both of you step into the kitchen.

“I just thought she hated me,” you confess, your voice wavering slightly as you locate and retrieve two beers from the fridge.

“Can't vouch for the past, but ever since you left, she's been doing a lot of thinking about you,” Ha-rin confides with a gentle gaze, returning to her food preparations. You offer her a grateful nod before making your way out to the terrace.

The red-brown wood deck of the terrace is adorned with inviting lounge chairs, and a spacious table surrounded by eight chairs sits proudly in the backyard. A metal wind chime dangles from the ceiling, silent in the absence of wind.

Seated on the terrace steps, you patiently await your sister's return. Your eyes wander across the backyard, where a myriad of bushes and trees creates a captivating display of lush greenery. Amidst the natural beauty, you ponder on how she will respond to your news. A mix of hope and uncertainty lingers in the air. Despite her earlier demeanor, you find solace in the belief that, at the very least, she may not react negatively.

Jessi emerges into view, the glistening beads of sweat on her forehead bearing witness to the exertion from the stables. You extend the cold beer to her, and she grabds it graciously, taking a seat beside you on the terrace. 

As the refreshing hiss of opened beers fills the air, you gather your courage and broach the topic, “There's something important I've been wanting to discuss with you—about my inheritance.”

A fleeting tension tightens her shoulders momentarily, a subtle reaction not lost on you. Yet, she eases into a composed stance, nodding in silent permission for you to proceed.

“I've had a change of heart about selling it,” you start, a newfound lightness pulsating through your chest. “Keeping the ranch feels right, and…”

“Can I make a home on the ranch, if you'll have me?” The words tumble out, a mix of question and declaration. Nervousness creeps back as she gazes at you, caught off guard by the weight of your words.

She exhales, shoulders dropping, “I'm relieved you're not selling your inheritance,” she says. The rhythm of your heartbeat pounds in your ears, and your eyes widen. The tone in her voice leaves you uncertain; it doesn't sound like an invitation for you to stay.

“And this place is as much yours as it is mine. So, of course, you can stay,” she offers a soft smile, and all her features seem to relax, a stark contrast to how you've seen her before during that time you spent here last.

You feel a flood of reassurance washing over you, her words finally reaching you. “I want you to stay too,” she adds before you can finish your thought, and a big smile creeps onto your face. You can't help it, just like you can't help the tears that threaten to escape.

“I've genuinely missed you,” she admits, her words accompanied by the subtle gesture of bringing the beer to her lips for a sip.

Your heart swells with affection and love, and you open up, saying, “I’m so sorry about how I behaved last time— all those times I fucked up, and how I mishandled the situation with the inheritance.”

You savor a sip of the beer, relishing the moment as the warmth of the conversation with your sister pairs perfectly with the soothing hues of the sunset in the background.

“It’s fine. And it’s natural to mess up, and I’ll try to be better at not grilling you for your mistakes. And you really shouldn’t feel so bad when you make them,” her words offer a refreshing breeze, a promise of understanding, and the teasing pat on your shoulder feels like a gentle reminder that even in the realm of mistakes, there's room for laughter and forgiveness.

“We’re sisters, you know? We should stick together and help each other. Not bring each other down,” as the sun dips lower, casting hues of warm orange across the sky, her words resonate like a melody of reconciliation.

“That would be nice,” your voice carries a wistful tone as you express the longing for the dream of sisterhood to become a reality. The prospect of working together, mending what was once broken, tugs at the strings of your heart, echoing the echoes of a childhood dream that's now within reach.

“I’m also sorry for how I behaved,” in that moment, the sincerity in her gaze is palpable, and as she gently clasps your hands, a shared understanding seems to bridge the gap between past regrets and present reconciliation. 

“I’m happy you didn’t give up on this place or on me.”

As joyous tears cascade down your cheeks, her words resonate with a profound truth that rekindles the warmth of a long-lost friendship. Squeezing her hand in a shared moment of understanding, you draw her into a heartfelt embrace. The sensation is transformative, a healing balm for the wounds of time, and an assurance that, from this point onward, things can only evolve for the better.

As you prepare to meet up with the guys at the local bar, a sense of relief washes over you. This time, you're comfortably clad in your own clothes, steering clear of any daring ventures into your sister's wardrobe. You vividly remember what went down when you borrowed her clothes— and you certainly don’t want a repeat of that!

Jessi takes the wheel, embarking on the two-hour journey, the atmosphere inside the car is charged with contagious laughter and joyful giggles that resonate throughout the entire ride.

Soo-ah's eyes sparkle with anticipation as she inquires, “Do you think Hobi will be there?” 

Ara, turning around with a sheepish look, responds with a hint of playfulness, “Why wouldn't he be?”

“I don’t know,” Soo-ah chuckles nervously, uncertainty lingering in her eyes. You offer a reassuring squeeze to her leg and assure her, “He'll be there, don't worry.”

As you pull into the bar's parking lot, the sight of both Jungkook and Jimin's pickup trucks quickens your heart. The vibrant blue hue of Jimin's truck captures your attention, and an unexpected wave of nervousness causes your palms to sweat. You subtly fidget, praying that Soo-ah beside you remains oblivious to the sudden surge of emotions.

Entering the bar, the boisterous laughter of the guys instantly guides your gaze to a larger table, where they've gathered. A symphony of hearty laughs reverberates through the room, and as you approach, you can't help but notice their hats carefully placed on the table. A warm smile spreads across your face, ready to join the camaraderie.

As your sister claims a chair beside Jungkook and Soo-ah smoothly secures a seat next to Hoseok, Ara and Ha-rin settle in beside Yoongi. With a subtle gesture, Jimin deftly pulls out the empty chair next to him, a silent invitation for you to join the circle.

“Thank you,” gratitude colors your words as you offer a soft smile, yet beneath the surface, your heart quickens in the magnetic pull of Jimin's presence, settling into the chair with a hint of anticipation.

“Welcome back,” Hoseok quips, a playful smile lighting up his face as he raises his beer in a toast to celebrate your return. The others swiftly join the gesture, already having ordered a beer for you in anticipation. A chuckle escapes you, appreciating the friendship, and you seamlessly join in with your own beer.

“You know, you really should be thanking Jimin,” you remark after taking a sip, directing your gaze toward him with tender eyes and a soft smile. 

The others exchange curious glances, signaling that they might not be aware of Jimin's visit to the city—an aspect you assumed was common knowledge.

A blush creeps up on your cheeks, and all eyes, except Jimin's, fixate on you with expectant curiosity. In a hushed tone, you confess, “Jimin came to visit me in the city.” The revelation resonates loudly, met with gasps of ‘oh's’ that hang in the air.

“So that's where you went,” Jungkook teases with a sly smirk, raising his eyebrows suggestively. A synchronized eye-roll between you and Jimin follows, a silent agreement against the mischievous banter.

You catch Soo-ah whispering to Hoseok, disbelief evident in her hushed tones. A chuckle escapes your lips, finding amusement in their reactions.

You turn to face Jimin, his cheeks adorned with a subtle blush, his soft features inviting and his plush, slightly chapped lips capturing your attention. “Thank you, Jimin, for bringing me back,” you express, your voice carrying a weight of affection and gratitude. In those words, you hope he senses the depth of your appreciation for his kindness and the significant impact it had on you.

He grins, a warm and expansive smile that causes his eyes to disappear into the contours of his cheeks. 

“Anytime. I'm glad you came home,” he replies with genuine warmth, his words echoing the sincerity that radiates from his expression.

“Yeah, I'm glad I came home too,” you murmur in a breathy tone, the air heavy with unspoken emotions. For a moment, it feels like an intimate exchange, a shared secret between just the two of you, the world narrowing into tunnel vision. Reality snaps back, and you remember you're not alone, the rest of the group observing you with curious eyes.

“Well, let's toast to that too then!” Hoseok exclaims with infectious mirth, prompting the group to raise their glasses for another sip of beer. 

You shift your gaze back to the table, yet the sensation of Jimin's eyes on you persists. His stare carries an inviting warmth, and a longing tugs at you, wanting you to plant your head on his shoulders, reminiscent of the moments in your apartment when you leaned into his sturdy frame. You remember how your heart echoed the rhythm of his, creating a sense of belonging and familiarity that made you feel truly at home.

Laughter swirls around you, but your thoughts orbit in a distant realm. As you attempt to refocus on the conversation, a peculiar dynamic unfolds between your sister and Jungkook. Their interactions carry a subtle awkwardness, an unspoken occurrence concealed beneath forced smiles. Tension simmers between them, an invisible thread tying knots of secrecy, yet the exact nature eludes your grasp.

Averting your gaze from the enigmatic exchange, you catch the collective scrutiny of the girls fixed upon you. A blush ignites your cheeks, and you involuntarily inhale sharply. Their sly smiles and approving glances make your embarrassment intensify, and you find yourself momentarily breathless, struggling to swallow even a sip of your beer.

As the liquid spurts out, leaving you panting for air, Jimin swiftly places a warm hand on your back, sending an electrifying jolt through your entire body. 

In that moment, you feel like you're both on fire and gasping for breath, a peculiar combination of sensations that leaves you caught in an unexpected whirlwind. 

Great, you think, struggling to regain your composure amidst the chaos.

Concern etches his features as he anxiously inquires, “Are you okay?” 

Your breath continues to dance erratically against his palm, the warmth of his touch providing a comforting anchor in the midst of your momentary struggle to regain composure.

As you finally regain control over your breath, a self-deprecating chuckle escapes your lips, a feeble attempt to divert attention from your momentary lapse. The group seamlessly resumes their conversations, allowing you a moment to collect the tattered shreds of your dignity. 

Why does it always seem like you're destined to make a fool of yourself?

Jimin's touch lingers on your back, a tantalizing journey that ventures perilously close to the curve of your ass, sending a subtle shiver down your spine.

Jimin's warm smile graces his face as he extends an invitation, “We're throwing a party at our place in a few days, and you're all invited.” Meanwhile, his hand continues its subtle dance, now gently rubbing your lower back, creating a magnetic connection that adds an intriguing layer to the invitation.

No. No. That’s dangerous to think about, you reprimand yourself.

His touch, gentle and warm, sends a wave of sensations through you, igniting a rush of memories and desires. The mere brush of his fingers on your skin catapults your mind into overdrive, recalling the comforting closeness you shared. Your thighs involuntarily clench as you silently curse the intensity of your own lingering thoughts. 

Damn it.

Suddenly, he withdraws his hand, leaving an unexpected chill in the space it once occupied. The absence of his touch sends a subtle shiver down your spine, a stark reminder of the warmth you had grown accustomed to in that fleeting moment.

“Absolutely, count us in!” Jessi exclaims, her face lighting up with enthusiasm, and she dives back into conversation with Jungkook, the topic eluding your grasp.

Your thoughts are a whirlwind of Jimin—his gentle tousled blonde locks, the memory of his firm thighs, how both strong and inviting they felt—and you snap back to reality, realizing you might be wearing your infatuation like a neon sign. 

Damn it.

Pull yourself together; you can't afford to be practically drooling in front of everyone.

Summoning determination, you refocus on Jimin. “Jimin, there's something I want to ask you,” you start, a soft smile masking the nervousness that makes your palms slightly sweaty.

He responds with a smile and a chuckle, clearly aware of your flustered state. “Go ahead, ask anything,” he encourages, his warmth providing a comforting backdrop to your nervousness.

Your gaze meets his, hopeful and sincere, as you muster the courage to pop the question. “I was wondering if you could lend me a hand moving all my stuff from the city back home to the ranch?” The subtle widening of his smile and the softening of his eyes tell you that your request has found a welcome place in his heart, and he leans in.

“Do you need a pair of strong hands to lift heavy furniture?” His playful tease sends a flush of embarrassment to your cheeks, your mind racing with thoughts of his strong biceps and thighs. 

Chuckling at your reaction, he leans in, making your heart race even faster. 

Gathering your composure, you respond with a playful retort, “Well, I do have a lot of stuff, and I need you to drive with a horse trailer. Your muscles would be a huge bonus.” The words tumble out in a rush, a mix of nervousness and a desire to keep the conversation between just the two of you.

His laughter fills the air, clearly enjoying the playful banter. “Absolutely, I'm in. Just let me know when you want to get the show on the road,” he says with a grin, his willingness to help evident in his warm and teasing tone.

As you exhale, returning your attention to the group's conversation, a sudden surge of warmth envelops your thigh. Your breath catches in anticipation, your body responding to the gentle caress as if it were a spark igniting a flame.

As Jimin navigates his blue truck down the rustic dirt road, a horse trailer trailing behind, he turns to you with a warm smile. Leaning comfortably against the seat, one hand effortlessly steering, the other casually resting on his thigh, he inquires, “How much stuff are we bringing back?” 

His eyes twinkle with a mix of curiosity and readiness for the adventure ahead, as if the journey is not just about transporting belongings but weaving a story between two souls on the open road.

Oh heavens. Your gaze unintentionally lingers on Jimin's dangerously enticing thighs, you inwardly scold yourself—those legs are a hazard, a potential downfall for you at any moment. A shaky breath escapes you, a silent reminder that Jimin is awaiting your response to the question he posed.

Your smile holds a mix of determination and anticipation as you respond, “All of it. I've canceled my lease on the apartment, so everything needs to come with us back home.” 

As the cold air from the conditioning unit gently tousles your hair, you welcome the refreshing breeze, a stark contrast to the heated and lingering thoughts that play provocatively in your mind.

“Cool,” he says, a charming smile gracing his lips, yet his gaze lingers a moment too long, a silent undercurrent of unspoken words hanging between you two, before he diverts his attention back to the winding road ahead.

You've sensed his lingering gazes for weeks, and there's a magnetic pull that suggests his childhood crush may not have faded. The feeling is mutual— oh boy do you feel it, your heart echoes his sentiments. Does he sense your reciprocation? Uncertain, you contemplate subtle ways to convey your emotions, crafting a silent symphony that resonates without uttering the words aloud.

As your gaze involuntarily drifts to his thighs once more, a daring notion plays in your mind—should you dare to venture a touch? 

Lost in contemplation, you're oblivious to his subtle amusement until his hand, warm and reassuring, lands on your thigh. His chuckle, a shared secret between you, unfolds a world of possibilities along the open road.

In a heartbeat, a cocoon of warmth engulfs you, igniting a familiar flame within. His touch possesses an enchanting power, a spell that renders you warm, giddy, and teetering on the edge of desire every single time.

With a sheepish smile, you gently place your hand over his calloused one, settling back into your seat. In this moment, everything feels just right.

The remainder of the lengthy drive unfolds in a serene silence, allowing both of you to bask in the comforting presence of the other, not needing words. There's a certain beauty in the simplicity, especially with his warm hand resting so reassuringly on your thigh.

As the towering cityscape looms into view, a nostalgic pang tugs at your heart. This bustling metropolis has been your home for countless years, a backdrop to the chapters of your life. Now, faced with the daunting task of packing up, you're about to embark on a journey back to your roots. The skyscrapers and imposing buildings seem to reach new heights on the horizon, and with precision, Jimin expertly navigates the road to secure a parking spot right outside your apartment complex.

Exiting the truck, you're greeted by a wave of stifling, humid air that carries the city's unique blend of pollution. The atmosphere seems almost suffocating as you make your way back to the trailer. There, Jimin is already in action, deftly opening it and lowering the ramp, setting the stage for a smooth and efficient loading process.

“Ready?” Jimin's infectious smile lights up the moment as you approach your apartment, your heart pulsating with anticipation, matching the rhythm of each step you take together.

With a sense of purpose, you had pre-packed your belongings in sturdy boxes before your return to the ranch, fueled by a fierce determination to make it your permanent home. Now, alongside Jimin, the only task at hand is to efficiently load the carefully packed boxes and furniture into the waiting horse trailer.

Amidst the sea of packed furniture and boxes, Jimin shoots you a bemused look, his chuckle echoing through the apartment. “Did you expect that Jessi would say yes to let you stay at the ranch, before you came back?” he teases, his eyes dancing with amusement.

Smirking playfully, you retort, “Well, I like to be prepared. If Jessi had told me to leave, I would've just unpacked it all.” A chuckle escapes your lips, accompanied by a nonchalant shrug as you snatch a box.

His eyes playfully twinkle as he suggests, “You grab all the small boxes, and let me do all the heavy lifting, okay?” His gaze surveys the cluttered space, finally settling on your substantial couch.

You nod in agreement, a subtle pang of guilt flickering in your chest. The thought crosses your mind that he might exhaust himself, particularly his right leg. Perhaps you can repay the favor with another leg massage later?

In just a few hours, you manage to load the trailer and Jimin's pickup truck with all your belongings. As you lock the door to your apartment, the weight of finality settles in. With a click, the door is secured, and you slip the key into the mailbox for the landlord.

Jimin's voice carries a comforting warmth as he suggests, “Let's head back home,” wrapping his arms around you in a tender embrace. Inhaling his musky scent, memories flood back from the night he stayed over. A hopeful anticipation lingers, wishing for more moments like those to come.

Jimin ushers you back to the truck, courteously opening the door for you. You offer him a soft smile as you slide into the seat. Observing him as he circles the vehicle, his worsened limp catches your attention. 

The realization sinks in—Jimin pushed himself too hard, his usual grace overshadowed by the toll of exertion, all for your sake, and a gentle frown forms on your face.

Jimin secures the trailer with a confident click, then slides into the driver's seat. A warm smile graces his lips as he turns the key in the ignition, setting the engine humming to life. With a smooth shift into first gear, he directs the car forward, his eyes meeting yours in a silent promise of the journey ahead.

As the soft strains of music fill the car, a subtle unease creeps over you. Anxious thoughts dance in your mind, a symphony of guilt echoing within, knowing that Jimin might be in pain, all because of you.

“Does your leg hurt?” 

Biting your lip, you seek reassurance, even though the truth is already etched in the lines of his face. 

“Yeah, a bit,” he confesses, briefly straightening his leg before a fleeting pause on the gas pedal. A momentary interruption in his driving, a subtle acknowledgment of the pain he endures. The rhythm of the road resumes, but you sense the underlying strain in his voice, a melody of discomfort beneath the surface.

Slowly, your hand ventures across the center console, finding its place on his solid thigh. His surprise is evident in the brief flicker of his gaze, but he remains silent as your fingers press and massage, the rhythmic motion a silent dialogue between you. His eyes fixate on the road ahead, while your touch weaves its soothing spell on the taut muscles beneath your fingertips.

You playfully prod your fingers into the fabric of his denim, kneading his thigh as though sculpting a pliable material. A subdued moan escapes him, and you catch the sight of him nibbling on his lower lip, a subtle sign of the sensations your touch ignites.

Your hand glides with a purpose up and down his sturdy thigh, sensing the subtle tension in his muscles. With each ascent, you feel the clenching response beneath your touch. 

Moving higher up his thigh, his breaths become shallower, a rhythm resembling both panting and anticipation.

He shifts his gaze toward you, a mixture of plea and vulnerability in his eyes. 

“Please stop.”

As if seared by an invisible flame, your hand freezes in place, but you resist pulling it away immediately. There's a silent plea in his eyes, and you sense there's more beneath the surface, waiting to be revealed.

He exhales a prolonged moan, his voice carrying a hint of urgency, “I might lose focus on the road if you keep that up.”

Your gaze lingers on the subtle bulge in his pants, eliciting a gasp that quickly turns into a relaxed smile as you recognize his pleasure. With one last tantalizing squeeze, you withdraw your hand, offering him a soft, knowing smile, your eyes revealing the unmistakable presence of desire.

His laughter fills the air as he acknowledges your efforts, “Your massage worked wonders. I must admit, I do enjoy your touch,” a mischievous smirk playing on his lips.

You accept the compliment with a subtle grin, savoring the fact that he's visibly affected. There might be a chance to pick up where you left off later, but for now, he needs to concentrate on the road.

“This is seriously not ranch wear!” 

Protesting against the impracticality of your footwear, you let out a groan as your sneakers get swallowed by the soft earth, your feet sliding uncomfortably inside them.

Amidst the shared laughter, Soo-ah's hands expertly reinforcing the fence with a tool, she suggests with a playful grin, “Perhaps it's high time for a trip into town to snag yourself some proper boots?”

“Absolutely,” you confirm, gripping the fence firmly as she expertly weaves in fresh wire to mend the spots where the cattle had left their mark.

“We can go town later, yeah?”

You watch the beads of sweat cascade down her forehead as she channels her strength into securing the wires to the fence. You nod in agreement, realizing the practicality of having a sturdy pair of boots, especially considering your decision to make this place your home.

Soo-ah takes charge of the heavy lifting, skillfully securing the wires while you provide the essential support by steadying the fence posts. Together, you form a seamless partnership, ensuring the fence's resilience under the weight of teamwork.

“Let’s head back home, I’m tired,” exhaustion paints Soo-ah's words as she catches her breath, prompting the decision to retreat home. You both make your way back to the horses, gracefully mounting them before embarking on the journey back to the ranch, where the promise of rest and respite awaits.

After dismounting the horses and securing them in the stable, a parched sensation lingers in your throat, coaxing you towards the house in pursuit of a refreshing gulp of cold water. The relentless heat persists, a reminder that perhaps bringing water along during the fence repair would have been a wiser choice.

Announcing your need for a wardrobe change, you declare, “I have to swap this drenched shirt,” and with purpose, stride towards your room—the guest room that has cradled you since your arrival months ago. However, upon entering, an uncanny realization dawns—your belongings have vanished. 

Surveying the room, the neatly made bed flaunts unfamiliar sheets, an unsettling cleanliness pervades the space. Panic prickles as you frantically wonder, where's your stuff?

As you retrace your steps to the terrace where Soo-ah is seeking solace from the sweltering heat, you can't help but voice your growing concern, “Do you have any idea where my belongings are? My room is stripped bare.” 

The words hang in the air, and as you glimpse a smile tugging at the corners of her lips, an unsettling curiosity tightens in your chest.

Her words leave a trail of mystery in the air, and you feel a surge of anticipation. “Head upstairs and check the room next to Jessi's,” she suggests, a knowing smile playing on her lips, her fingers delicately pressing the cold glass of water against her flushed face. 

With a mix of curiosity and apprehension swirling within you, you follow Soo-ah's suggestion and ascend the staircase. Navigating through the familiar halls, you finally reach your sister's room and, with a tentative breath, reach for the handle of the door adjacent to it. The wood creaks softly as you push it open, revealing a room transformed, yet oddly familiar.

You slide into the room, and your jaw practically meets the floor at the sight that unfolds before you; every piece of your belongings thoughtfully arranged in the space, a harmonious blend of familiarity and newfound warmth. A cream-colored box takes center stage on the bed, bearing the elegant letters ‘Ariat,’ and you can't help but feel a rush of intrigue coursing through you.

As you lift the lid, a pair of exquisite brown boots adorned with intricate stitching and a touch of regal purple captures your gaze. Instantly, a wellspring of emotion threatens to spill over, and you find tears welling up in your eyes as your fingers delicately trace the supple contours of the leather.

The unexpected gift of boots sends your heart into a joyous swell, an exquisite gesture that leaves you touched. Overwhelmed with gratitude, you make your way downstairs, only to discover your sister and Soo-ah sharing the terrace.

“You got these for me?” Clutching the boots in your hands, you can't help but show them to your sister and Soo-ah, your face adorned with tears of pure joy. 

Soo-ah and your sister share conspiratorial smiles as Jessi unveils not just the boots but also a classic dark brown cowboy hat. “Now that you live here, you need those, and also this,” Jessi declares. You accept the hat, its simplicity resonating with you, and a genuine smile spreads across your face as you hold it in your hands.

Overwhelmed, you stammer through your gratitude, “This is too much. It’s not even my birthday. And you did all this for me? Also my room?” 

A choked sob escapes, your emotions a mix of gratitude and sheer happiness.

“Yeah. You deserve a bigger room too!” Your sister exclaims, pulling you into a tight hug that feels like a warm embrace of love and acceptance.

Overwhelmed by the unexpected warmth of their gesture, you can hardly believe the kindness and thoughtfulness they've poured into making you feel at home.

As you and your sister embark on a journey to the paddock near the Bell Ranch, the air is filled with a sense of purpose, the truck's engine humming in harmony with the anticipation of nourishing the cattle with extra hay.

As you draw near, the figures of Jungkook and Yoongi come into focus, silhouetted against the backdrop of the sprawling ranch. The boundary fence becomes a canvas for their hard work, their foreheads glistening with sweat and hats serving as valiant protectors against the relentless assault of the scorching sun.

You bound out of the car, adorned in your newfound boots and hat, the sensation of the leather against your skin adding a touch of invincibility to your step. The prairie wind whispers around you, playing with the edges of your hat, as if welcoming you into this new chapter of ranch life.

Observing the unspoken tension between Jessi and Jungkook, a myriad of questions flutter in your mind, but you resist voicing them just yet. 

Your sister redirects your focus, breaking the silent inquiry with a practical suggestion, “I'll take the wheel while you stand in the load of the truck, guiding the hay distribution. Deal?”

You agree to your sister's plan, a subtle unease crawls over you, intensified by the lingering gazes of Yoongi and Jungkook. 

A fleeting concern flits through your mind – is there a flaw in your attire that's drawn their attention?

“Nice boots and hat!” Jungkook's enthusiastic shout reaches you from the fence, accompanied by a sly smirk and an appreciative lift of his eyebrows. Yoongi, on the other hand, acknowledges you with a subtle nod, his gaze holding a mysterious intensity that leaves you intrigued and slightly puzzled.

“Thank you,” gratitude echoes from your lips as you balance atop the car, skillfully pushing chucks of hay out while your sister maneuvers the truck with deliberate precision. 

Jungkook's voice carries over the sound of hammering as he secures a fence post into the ground, his biceps flexing beneath the snug fabric of his t-shirt, “Are you joining the party tomorrow?” 

“You bet!” Your sister's voice resounds from the car, the windows rolled down, carrying her enthusiasm through the sun-soaked air.

As you prepare for the party at the guys' ranch, your hands eagerly discover the lovely dress that Jimin gifted you during his visit to the city. You pull it out, your fingers delicately tracing the intricate flowers adorning the fabric, knowing instinctively that this is the perfect choice for tonight.

In no time, you transform into a vision of elegance, applying a subtle, natural layer of makeup that enhances your features. A pair of low heels elegantly complete the ensemble, adding a touch of grace to complement the beauty of your chosen dress.

You step out into the yard to join your sister and the girls, all of you radiating a collective aura of elegance. Jessi stuns in a baby blue summer dress, a perfect match for her vibrant personality. Soo-ah confidently rocks a short, red mini dress that accentuates her curves with subtle allure. Ara's tall figure is accentuated by a flowing, regal purple satin dress. Ha-rin opts for a chic midi-length black dress, exuding a timeless charm. Together, you form a stylish and captivating ensemble ready for the night ahead.

“Is everyone set?” 

Your sister's anticipation fills the air as she swings open the car door, taking command of the driver's seat. The excitement is palpable as you and the others pile into the truck, eagerly embarking on the journey toward the Bell ranch.

As you pull up, a sea of cars and pickups fills the yard, resonating with the lively hum of distant music and the chatter of the party. The festive ambiance hits you the moment you swing open the car door, setting the stage for a night of celebration.

Anticipation courses through you as you approach the lively gathering, eager to unravel the mysteries of the party unfolding. Yet, amidst the pulsating music and animated crowd, it's the mere prospect of locking eyes with Jimin that quickens your heartbeat, infusing an electrifying rhythm to your excitement.

You step into their abode, a wave of conviviality envelopes you, the air resonating with the symphony of laughter. Jungkook, Jimin, Yoongi, and Hoseok form a relaxed quartet, engaged in easy banter, their beers in hand. 

Your eyes catch the vet, Namjoon, accompanied by a stranger with shoulders broad as mountains, his laughter infectious. Amidst the female company, drawn close to Jungkook, the atmosphere pulsates with an undeniable magnetism.

As your gaze collides with Jimin's, a soft and profound smile graces his lips, causing an inexplicable flutter within you. It's astonishing how this man effortlessly wields the power to turn your insides into a tender mush with just a simple yet enchanting smile.

“Hey, thanks for coming,” Jimin's warm voice resonates as he clasps your hand, a surge of electric energy coursing through your veins. You return his gaze with a smile, grateful for the invitation and the electrifying connection that lingers between you both.

“Oh, you're wearing the dress. You’re stunning,” he appraises you, his gaze tracing the contours of your figure, a playful smirk dancing on his lips. A subtle lick of his tongue adds a hint of mischief. Your legs momentarily waver, yet determined, you stride beside Jimin, delving deeper into their vibrant home.

The room exudes warmth, a comfortable fusion of wood and inviting furniture strategically placed. A sprawling couch beckons, adorned with a small table, a TV nearby. A grand round dining table, surrounded by wooden chairs boasting vibrant red upholstery, catches your eye. 

As you take in the scene, a piano near the couch intrigues you, sparking a curiosity you're eager to explore. 

Before you can inquire, the music volume surges, inundating the room with lively beats, setting the tone for the night.

As the lively tunes envelop the room, a spontaneous dance floor emerges, and Jimin gracefully sweeps you into a slow dance. Despite any reservations about your dancing skills, Jimin effortlessly dissolves them with his reassuring presence. His own mastery on the dance floor is evident, accentuated by the perfect fit of his pants and the tantalizing view offered by a slightly unbuttoned shirt, teasingly revealing his collarbones. 

In the rhythm of the music, you find yourself lost in the enchantment of the moment, guided by Jimin's skillful moves and the magnetic connection between you both.

With a deft twirl, he sends your dress swirling around you, a kaleidoscope of colors catching the ambient light. As you gracefully land in his arms, his hands intuitively find their place on your hips, guiding and swaying your body in perfect harmony with the pulsating rhythm of the music. 

As the music envelops you both, your heart races in tandem with the intoxicating rhythm. 

Jimin is so close that his scent permeates the air, clouding your senses and setting your mind and body ablaze. Desires surge within you, an undeniable yearning that intensifies with every breath, a silent plea echoing in the pulsating energy of the moment. 

You crave him, an insatiable hunger burning through your veins.

You nestle against his shoulder, inhaling the heady essence that is uniquely Jimin, an electric current courses through you, awakening a primal desire. His intoxicating scent envelops your senses, igniting a passionate flame that flickers within the deepest recesses of your being down to your core. 

A soft, involuntary moan escapes your lips, a testament to the overwhelming allure he holds over you.

In this enchanting moment, cocooned in the tender embrace of Jimin, it's as if the world has melted away, leaving just the two of you in a dance of intimacy. Yet, the pulsating energy of the party swirls around you, and as you lift your gaze from Jimin's shoulder, you catch a glimpse of your sister entwined in a dance with Jungkook. Their connection is palpable and sparks igniting an unspoken dialogue between them, drawing your attention to them.

You nestle your head into Jimin's chest, seeking refuge in the cocoon of warmth and strength that surrounds you. The rise and fall of his pectorals and shoulders provide a comforting rhythm, his touch on your hips guiding your every move with a gentle precision. With each sway, you're attuned to the reassuring thud of his heart, a steady drumbeat against your face.

This is pure bliss, a moment suspended in time where the world fades away, leaving only the warmth of Jimin's embrace cocooning you. In his arms, everything feels perfect, an oasis of serenity where the outside world ceases to exist. The notion of staying like this forever whispers through your mind, tempting you with the idea that in this moment, nothing else matters.

An unexpected interruption pulls you from the enchanting dance with Jimin as you feel a gentle poke at your shoulders. Raising your eyes from the comforting haven of Jimin's shoulders, you discover his brother, Jungkook, extending his hand toward you. 

A soft smile graces your lips as your gaze momentarily lingers on Jimin before shifting back to Jungkook, acknowledging his presence with a subtle nod.

“May I have a dance?”Jungkook extends a hand toward you. Raising an eyebrow, you chuckle at the unexpectedness of the situation. Jimin, rolling his eyes playfully, releases his hold on your hips. The absence of his touch sends a chill through you, making you realize how accustomed you've become to his warmth. 

Despite the surprise, you accept Jungkook's invitation, placing your hand in his with a playful grin.

You allow him to whisk you into the swirling throng of dancers. A swift glance around the room reveals Jimin now twirling your sister on the dance floor, and Yoongi seated at a table observing Soo-ah's graceful moves as she dances with Hoseok.

“Beautiful dress,” Jungkook's compliment resonates as he gracefully twirls you around, mirroring the enchanting moves Jimin bestowed upon you moments before.

Gratitude colors your smile as you share, “Thank you. Jimin got it for me.” 

Pressed against Jungkook's chest, you sense the rapid thud of his heart beneath your hands, leaving you curious about the unspoken rhythms pulsing through him.

“He has good taste. I actually wanted to ask you something,” his words drip with a blend of confidence and mischief, the edges of his smile flirting with a smirk. Tingling sensations cascade through your body as he hints at something more, leaving you on the precipice of anticipation.

“How’s Jessi been?”

His unexpected question catches you off guard, and as you pull away, you're momentarily flabbergasted. The realization of why he's asking dawns on you, and a laugh escapes your lips, dancing with a mix of surprise and amusement.

“Happy,” happiness fills your voice as you whisper the word, swaying in rhythm with him to the beat of the music.

“Good. I talked to her after you left, you know?” His words hang in the air, and you catch a mischievous glint in his eyes. He smiles, chuckling softly, the warmth of his breath sending shivers down your spine as he leans in, speaking softly into your ear after dropping the bombshell.

He did? You didn’t know that. Surprise colors your voice as you inquire, leaning in slightly to catch every detail. 

“What do you mean you talked to her?” You press, your curiosity piqued, eager for him to unravel the mystery he's hinted at.

“I just told her she shouldn’t be so hard on you and that you’re sisters and that’s important, you know?”

Heartwarming warmth floods your chest at his words, and you find yourself captivated by his genuine concern for your relationship with Jessi. His comforting smile, revealing a hint of sincerity, assures you that he genuinely cares about the bonds that connect you both.

“Ah, so you’re the one I should thank,” amused by the unexpected ally, you laugh, realizing Jungkook's subtle intervention played a part in smoothing things over.

“No, I just—” His words hang in the air, but you swiftly interject, unwilling to let him complete his sentence. 

“You've been spending more time with Jessi, haven't you?” You pry, a knowing smile playing on your lips. It's amusing how effortlessly he crumbles, a subtle dance of emotions flickering across his face. He tries to conceal it, but the transparency of his expressions betrays a tale he's unwilling to share.

He appears to be fumbling for words, caught in the delicate dance of secrecy. Perhaps he's reluctant to share, so you playfully add, “I've noticed you haven't batted an eye at any other girls at this party,” a teasing smile dancing on your lips. His reaction is priceless, a momentary lapse where he feels laid bare and exposed.

Silence hangs in the air, and you decide to let him off the hook, allowing him a moment of peace. However, you can't help but find it endearing that your sister wields such a powerful influence over him. There's a touch of amusement in the revelation, a whimsical twist in the dynamics that brings a smile to your lips.

Abruptly, the music mellows, drawing your focus to the soulful melody of a piano gracefully dancing through the air.

Unexpectedly, the enchanting notes of a piano fill the air, and you're startled to discover that Jimin is the maestro behind the captivating melody. His fingers delicately caress the piano keys, producing a hauntingly beautiful melody that captivates the entire room. 

The lively dance floor comes to a hushed standstill as the mesmerizing notes draw everyone toward chairs and the couch, creating an impromptu audience enchanted by Jimin's musical prowess.

His fingers glide with exquisite grace across the keys, coaxing a melody that feels both familiar and utterly enchanting. Drawn to the magnetic pull of the music, you find a seat on the couch, positioning yourself close to Jimin, eager to immerse yourself fully in the magic he's weaving with each delicate keystroke.

As he plays, he transcends the ordinary, bathed in an ethereal glow, his tousled blonde hair cascading gently around his face. With closed eyes, he immerses himself in the music, fingers gracefully pirouetting on the keys. A nervous nibble on his lip is followed by a rhythmic sway of his head, perfectly attuned to the piano's cadence. 

Then, with a voice as soft as a whispered secret, he begins to sing, weaving familiar lyrics into the air, each note carrying a tender reassurance that wraps around you like a warm embrace.

A hushed reverence blankets the entire room, each note from the piano and every word that escapes Jimin's lips a mesmerizing symphony, weaving a spellbinding silence that captivates the collective breath of everyone present.

In the tender embrace of the piano's melody, Jimin serenades the room with the soulful lyrics of a John Legend song, each word an intimate confession that resonates with the universal longing for acceptance and love. 

“‘Cause all of me loves all of you. Love all your curves and all your edges. All your perfect imperfections. Give your all to me, I’ll give my all to you,” his voice, a velvet caress, turns the lyrics into the very essence of romance materialized, casting a spell on every heart in the room.

Your heart dances to an erratic rhythm within your chest, intoxicated by a flood of emotions that defy definition, a kaleidoscope of love and sentiments swirling through your being.

He effortlessly continues to serenade, his voice a sublime melody that transcends beauty. Each note carries the weight of raw emotion, a soulful outpouring that echoes the depths of his soul and leaves you spellbound, as if he's baring his heart for the entire world to witness.

Emotion swells within you, threatening to spill over in the form of glistening tears, yet you valiantly resist the urge, determined to savor every precious moment of Jimin's soul-stirring performance. 

His voice, a gentle caress, and the delicate piano notes intertwine, creating a tapestry of emotions that resonates deep within your being.

As the final notes gracefully fade into the air, a thunderous applause erupts, reverberating through the room like a shared heartbeat. The resounding cheers and admiration affirm what you already knew — Jimin's musical prowess is a revelation, an ever-unfolding enchantment that leaves everyone, including yourself, captivated and yearning for more.

Jimin rises from the piano, the resonance of his final chord lingering in the air like a sweet melody. He strides purposefully toward you, his fingers gently entwining with yours. A magnetic pull between your hands beckons you to a silent adventure, and as your eyes lock onto the point where your skin meets his, he murmurs, “Please, come with me.”

With a determined grip, he whisks you away into the cool night air, attempting to drown out the exuberant hollers and shouts of the gathering behind. Despite your efforts, a subtle blush creeps onto your cheeks, responding to the playful symphony of sounds that trails behind you.

Beyond the backdoor, on their terrace, he envelops you, arms forming a gentle yet assertive barrier against the wall, creating an intimate space where the world outside ceases to exist.

Your breath quickens, and your thoughts race to catch up with the whirlwind of sensations. Time seems to accelerate as his lips draw near—is this the moment he's about to capture you in a kiss?

His scent, intoxicating and divine, envelops you as his lips playfully graze your cheek. A breathy sigh escapes your lips as he leans in close, his voice a tantalizing murmur in your ear, sending delightful shivers down your spine.

“Brothers talk,” his hushed words in your ear send an electric jolt through your entire body. Your mouth falls agape, a rush of warmth flooding your core, and your heart races at a dizzying 200 beats per minute. Wait— did he just say that?

The air outside suddenly feels stifling, as if the temperature has spiked, and every breath you take is saturated with Jimin's intoxicating musky scent, leaving you deliciously dizzy and struggling to catch your breath.

His words hang in the air, a provocative challenge that leaves you breathless. The danger of his statement lingers, creating a charged atmosphere filled with uncertainty and anticipation.

“I know you slept with Jungkook,”  as his words caress your ear, you remember the look on his face when he saw you pressed up against the barn with Jungkook’s dick deep inside your cunt, and the thought sends a jolt through your entire being. Somehow you feel guilty, you don’t know if it’s because he witnessed something he definitely shouldn’t have or because you just shouldn’t have slept with Jungkook in the first place. 

His figure presses against you, and you struggle to maintain composure, your heart's rapid beats echoing the intensity of the moment. The fine line between vulnerability and acceptance blurs, and you grapple with the consequences of his whispered revelation.

He positions one of his solid thighs between yours, applying a subtle yet deliberate pressure against your core, causing an involuntary gasp to escape your lips. The electric tension in the air intensifies, as you find yourself ensnared in the grip of a desire that threatens to unravel all sense of restraint.

And in a breathy whisper, he confesses in your ear, “And I don't mind. I like you.” 

His words, a symphony of desire, reverberate through your being, finally acknowledging the unspoken connection that has woven its way between you.

With a tender touch, you draw his upper body back, craving an unhindered view of his face. Your eyes lock with his, passion swirling in those blown-out orbs. The perfection of this man captivates you. 

“I like you too, Jimin,” you confess in a breathless murmur, your words tinged with a subtle lick of anticipation.

In the charged silence, your eyes lock in an unspoken understanding, the air thick with desire that could be sliced with a knife. 

You find yourself entranced by the sight of his soft, plush lips, and he mirrors the sentiment, slowly closing the gap between you. Inch by agonizing inch, the magnetic pull intensifies, promising a moment of electric desire. However, the spell is abruptly broken as the door swings open, startling you both and freezing his movements in their tracks.

Jungkook's eyes widen in surprise as he catches sight of you, a sheepish chuckle escaping his lips. “Oops, my bad,” he admits, an apologetic smile tugging at the corners of his mouth.

As the tension dissipates into laughter, the night seems to lighten around you. Jimin's laughter intertwines with yours, creating a symphony of joy. In the darkness, his eyes sparkle with mirth, and Jungkook, making a swift exit, leaves you and Jimin bathed in the glow of shared amusement.

“Should we go back inside?” 

Jimin's gaze lingers on you, his question hanging in the air like a promise. His soft smile invites you to rejoin the lively atmosphere inside, and with a subtle step back, he extends a hand, a silent invitation that speaks volumes, allowing you to catch your breath in the sweet aftermath of intimacy.

You draw in a breath, letting the weight of the night settle on your shoulders before exhaling a sigh of surrender. 

“Yeah,” you respond, the word carrying the echo of unspoken thoughts and the unexplored tension lingering in the air.

You're gearing up Marshmallow for a ride with Jessi, the anticipation building between you two as you prepare for a sisterly escapade, just the rhythmic sounds of hooves and shared laughter ahead.

Jessi swiftly readies Cinnamon, her determination matching the spirited horse, while you expertly secure the bridle on Marshmallow. Together, you step outside the barn, ready for the open trail that awaits, the promise of adventure lingering in the air.

“I’ll show you a river that’s close by,” your sister's eyes light up with excitement as she swings her leg over Cinnamon's sleek body, her enthusiasm contagious. Eagerly, you mirror her actions, mounting Marshmallow with a sense of anticipation, ready to discover the hidden wonders she promises by the nearby river.

Your horses pound the ground beneath them as you gallop together, the exhilarating rush of wind tousling your neatly braided hair. 

The rhythmic percussion of hoofbeats serenades your ears, echoing amidst towering trees that frame the distant silhouette of majestic mountains. Following Jessi's lead, the breathtaking revelation of a picturesque river emerges, its beauty captivating your senses with an awe-inspiring allure.

The expansive river unfolds before you, adorned with subtle cliffs in the distance. As you guide your horses down to the water's edge, the radiant sun bathes you in its warm embrace. Dismounting, you find a peaceful spot on the grass, surrounded by the tranquil symphony of nature's melody.

Jessi turns to you, her eyes filled with warmth, and confesses, “I’ve really missed you, you know?”

You respond with a gentle smile, “I’ve missed you too.”

As she absentmindedly picks at the grass, the horses peacefully grazing nearby, she continues, “Not just since you came back. I've missed you since your dad took you away.”

Her words tug at your heart, resonating with the pain you've long carried since your dad took you away. It's a shared ache, a silent acknowledgment of the wounds that time couldn't completely heal.

In a tender embrace, you whisper through tear-filled eyes, “But we're together now,” sealing the unspoken promise of shared moments, mending the fragments of time lost.

Her smile brightens as she leans into your sideways hug, asking, “Yes. I was actually wondering if there's any project on the ranch you'd like to take on. Anything that sparks your interest and passion?”

Excitement bubbles within you as you pull away from her, sharing, “Oh, yeah, there is something. Sometime ago, Jimin mentioned those wild horses Yoongi's working on. I think that could be a fascinating project.” Your smile radiates with genuine enthusiasm.

Your sister returns your smile, saying, “Yeah, just talk to Yoongi, and when the wild horses come back, you can go with him.”

“I also long for our time together, just staying close and catching up,” you express with tears welling in your eyes, your voice carrying the weight of genuine emotion.

“I’d like that too,” she responds warmly, enveloping you in another heartfelt hug.

Time seems to waltz away as you sit in companionable silence beside your sister, the rhythmic grazing of your horses creating a soothing melody. It's only when Jessi finally breaks the tranquil stillness that you realize how deeply immersed you both were in the moment.

A knowing smile plays on your lips as Jessi gently broaches the subject, “I noticed you and Jimin,” she starts, and you respond with a subtle nod.

A playful poke to your shoulder accompanies Jessi's words, “He's genuinely into you,” she declares, her smile carrying a warmth that hints at her approval of whatever there’s blossoming between you and Jimin. 

With a light laugh, you confess, “I like him too,” accompanied by a gentle rub to the spot on your shoulder where Jessi playfully poked you.

“But it's still kind of strange, you know? I mean, I slept with his brother. Won't it just make things awkward?” You sigh, laying bare the complexities of your thoughts. As much as you're drawn to Jimin and appreciate his assurance that it doesn't bother him, the idea of ‘brothers talk’ lingers in your mind— whatever that means. You're determined to avoid any comparisons, not just for their sake but for yours as well.

Jessi bursts into laughter, her high, infectious giggles prompting you to turn your head toward her. “Okay, I partly understand. But come on, they're only half-brothers. We're all just people here; it's not like it's something incestuous or anything.”

You sigh, conceding that she might be right. 

Then, you catch on to her words. ‘We’re all people here,’ you repeat, leaning in closer to her. 

“You and Jungkook?” You inquire, a glint of understanding in your eyes, and she responds with a knowing smile, “We’re just friends though. I’m still seeing Namjoon.”

“So you don’t think it’s weird that I slept with Jungkook?” You inquire, genuine curiosity lacing your words.

“No. Jungkook has slept with so many people, why would I care?” Jessi laughs, and after a moment of contemplation, you offer a nonchalant shrug, conceding that she might have a point.

Nestling into her embrace, a gentle sigh escapes your lips, “Thank you.”

Her gaze meets yours, confusion etched across her features, “What for?”

A gentle chuckle escapes your lips, and a surge of warmth fills your chest, “For being my incredible sister.”

Author’s note(2): Thank you so much for reading! 🌸 I would very much appreciate it if you reblogged the chapter, if you liked it ✨ A small review or a comment would also mean a lot to me, and even a like. But please, don’t be afraid to let me know what you think; your kind words makes me extremely happy 💜

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[millerscoffee]

dancing is a dangerous game | part two

i've got a few years on you, baby, that's all.

5.6k | joel miller x f!reader

this is part 2 of the "dancing is a dangerous game" series | other parts below:

part one | part two | masterlist

rating: 18+ MDNI

warnings (for this chapter): post-outbreak au. no ellie. no clickers. character development and plot!, age gap (joel is 56, reader is late 20s or early 30s), soft!dom joel, masturbation (f), eye contact, trauma recall (reader and joel), grief, mentions of sarah, pining, kissing, angst, fluff. no use of y/n.

summary: joel is a survivalist who (after putting you in your place™️) has invited you to stay at his homestead for one (1) month, so that's cute

A/N: ok hi, bee here! reminder that this fic is inspired by "cowboy like me" by taylor swift. i couldn't stay away from these two! this is... a loose adaptation of post-outbreak world in all honesty. i enjoy writing fluff and angst a little too much to always incorporate the heavier topics such as clickers or things of that nature. maybe it'll come to me! i hope you enjoy this chapter, it's been a fun adventure so far. thank you so much for all of your kind comments!!! ♡

Still, you wake to the smell of Joel making coffee. It’s years old, but it’s coffee. You sit up from the couch, hair in different directions. "Hey, I'll have some of that." "Where’re your manners?" "Hey, I'll have some of that… now?" Your eyes are sheened from sleep, but you're almost certain that pulls a grin from him. You hear an exhale through his nose that translates something along the lines of fine. The sound of pouring fills another cup.

Dreams like these come to you more as flashbacks. The ones of your father, of his death – most of the time in different places than where it actually happened.

At the shoreline of a beach, on top of a mountain, in the bottom of a cave. This time your night terror happens exactly where it took place.

It wasn't nearly as poetic as you would've wanted it to be for him.

An abandoned town with old buildings and a valley just outside of it.

You can feel the heat of fire even in your slumber.

Your legs twitch in your sleep. Tears crawling out the sides of your eyes as they spill and expand into kaleidoscopic shapes on Joel's couch.

Even in your dreams, your hands shake. You can make out his face tonight. The sorrow painted on his features. The end he knew he had to face. You raise your loaded pistol.

You wake up and you don't remember it.

---

The first day you wake up in Joel's cabin, it takes you a minute to know where you are.

A gasp of air brings your awareness to the surface, a sudden need to fight as your hypervigilance snaps your eyes open.

"Oh...," you mutter, subconsciously, too groggy to make connections but you ease rather quickly. A chill comes over your sweat-covered body.

From your perspective, your eyes fix on the ceiling. The pattern of wood, the feeling of your teeth against the inside of your lips. Your body unconsciously doing everything it can to regulate itself.

You didn't expect to fall asleep the night before, much less so easily, considering you were under a stranger's roof. So it caught you off guard to be so... warm under the blanket Joel gave you that smelled like him. Despite the slight stickiness of sweat. From a dream you now aren't aware you even had.

Then again, it helped the said stranger wasted no time in getting to know you. The insides of your thighs ache, a clear marker for that moment in time.

Your stomach felt like things were working in reverse. The situation so complex you don't know how to approach it.

Still, you wake to the smell of Joel making coffee. It’s years old, but it’s coffee.

You sit up from the couch, hair in different directions.

"Hey, I'll have some of that."

"Where’re your manners?"

"Hey, I'll have some of that… now?" Your eyes are sheened from sleep, but you're almost certain that pulls a grin from him. You hear an exhale through his nose that translates something along the lines of fine.

The sound of pouring fills another cup.

When you begin to move up to get the cup from him, Joel makes a grunt signaling you to stop and you sit back on the cushions. Your hands reach up to grab the hot liquid, ignoring the rush of blood pool towards your middle when you brush your fingers against his.

Too early for this shit.

You grumble a satisfied sound when the hot, bitter, old liquid reaches your tongue and your shoulders soften. You take a contemplative gaze into the cup. At the black. You wonder if the indulgence of milk ever graces Joel's mouth in a place like this.

Strange thought, but it passes.

In reality, you're doing anything, thinking of anything to distract yourself from looking up. It's inevitable, and when you do, Joel seems to be using the same tactic you are.

Very interested in a cup of coffee rather than initiating conversation.

Both of you finding easier to go with physical gestures than unraveling or understanding the other's personality. Much less small talk.

You clear your throat to break the silence.

"Thanks." You chew at your cheek. Joel's orbs pour into yours and it's more fervent than you'd like it to be.

Like you were just coming to your senses from the nights sleep you had, and he was fogging it all over again.

You look past his temple at the wall instead and he mumbles something resembling you're welcome.

It's quiet for five more minutes.

There's something about it, though, that is easy fall into.

It's not intolerable the longer you sit with it. Feels like there's no pressure to do or be anything, and that sends an unfamiliar sensation through your nervous system.

You decide to lean into it than see it as a threat. Somehow, it works. Between the rare sniffs into the air and slurps, it doesn't feel necessary to speak and you find yourself sinking into the armrest of the lumpy, yet comfortable enough, couch.

"You need help today?" You finally ask. You're here for a reason, after all. Joel needed help with... well, something. You're weren't quite sure as he was vague about it in his proposition to you, but you weren't one to take handouts.

You didn't take handouts, but you did steal them.

No need to owe anyone that way.

"Uh," Joel clears his throat, a bit jarred at the break of silence as he precedes his words with a nod, "Yeah. Stables need cleanin'. That could be a good start."

"Alright then."

Joel looks over at you with a raised brow, wondering if you had fewer words than he did. The thought washes away, and soon you're both on your separate duties.

---

Joel walks out with you to the stable where a lone, but sweet looking black horse greets you. She looks fed. Actually, she looks rather taken care of and you can tell Joel has spent a lot of his time in making sure she lives a comfortable life.

You become aware the stall could use some work – there’s some wood missing, hay is scarce, but the horse seems happy enough.

"Does she have a name?" You ask, hand tempting out for the animal to engage with. Your mind quiets at the touch of her nose brushing against your skin and your eyes gaze over the large ones she has.

Her personality is a lot like Joel's in the quiet moments you spent with him this morning: calm, kind, but generally disinterested. That tugs a grin to your cheek.

"She don't have one," Joel says behind you, his voice laced with a backstory and soaked with a mysterious pain. "Don't wanna get attached."

You don't think you've heard something so relatable.

You leave it alone.

Most of your morning is spent hammering planks of wood into the gaps of her majesty's stable while Joel takes her for a joyride. Ensuring she has plenty of exercise for the day.

She's a fairly young horse, but Joel has to makes sure her joints are warm in case he needs to go somewhere. You come to learn he does this every day. Early in the morning, he makes sure she's fed and brushed. Groomed at her feet when it's needed and exercised.

When he comes back, he hums appreciatively at the work you've done. "Looks good." You deny the way his shoulders broaden in this taut position before he climbs out of the stirrups. The way his thighs tighten in their straddle.

And you barely acknowledge his civil words, much less the tightening at your jaw from them.

"Seem pretty attached to me."

"Shut up."

A sound so unusual hits your ears and vibrates your chest. You laugh. Genuinely, not the awkward one you let out when you were undressing in front of him. Not when his eyes were fucking you. A genuine, hearty laugh.

---

You promise yourself: one month and that's it. You're out of here.

It's not that Joel has made it unbearable. In fact, it's the opposite.

There's this sense of calm at Joel's. Like even though something bad could happen at any moment, it's tucked away from the pain. Like Joel made a determination in keeping one solid buoy amidst the world of chaos. Joel made that his home.

Part of you gathers you interrupted his peace by being there. Maybe the violence you brought? Nah, couldn't be.

Yet there's another part of you that can see glimpses of his gratitude in your presence. How he cooks for the both of you, not just himself. How he's taken the time to learn your name.

Lets you use his hot water for you to take a shower. Pawning it off under some snide comment on how you needed one. You see the playfulness caper around the age in his eyes.

He shares with you what he saved all those years ago and things he's acquired now.

It's in the small nods of acknowledgement when you go out of your way to make sure he has the supplies he needs, or when you both sit on the porch only to not say a word.

Then within that there's a third, silent part of you that selfishly doesn't care whether or not he cares because he invited you, and you want to soak up every moment of these simple comforts while you can.

You dance the scales of balance. Nothing and everything at once.

---

In your time at Joel's, you learn the layout of his cabin. It's a simple thing, open layout. The living room and kitchen are side by side, bathroom around the corner.

Upstairs, 'well more like a ladder' you'd hear Joel say, that leads up to his loft bedroom. The sheets are dark, the bed is humble. But it's safe up there and he has a good lookout for any danger.

There's a second door downstairs to a make-do basement that is mostly dirt and smells of sawdust. It has supplies he's collected over the years. Things he's picked up, tools, equipment, non-perishables.

This is guarded by endless locks, and hidden by a bookcase. You find it on accident somewhere in the middle of your first week staying with him. The bookcase was off to the side, the door was open. You were already looking for him, so when you walk downstairs to find him working on something it causes you both to jump.

"Sorry! I'm sorry... I just, I was looking for you. Did you need me to till the garden?" Your question is asked quickly in a heated rush, too many words flowing from your mouth to make up for how undeniably in trouble you were.

You see Joel's eyebrows drop like you weren't supposed to see this. Not supposed to know all of his secrets. But he keeps the door cracked for ventilation when he's down there and you were supposed to be busy doing something else.

"Yeah, go ahead." His voice booms. You turn around and make a beeline back up.

He doesn't like that you know, but now you do. And it's either shrug it off, or kill you. The apathy grates at your nerves considering these are things he'd probably fought over at one point.

You take it personally that he doesn't punish you in some way for finding it out, forcing you to reflect on how fucked up that is.

You go for a walk instead.

---

You sleep on the couch the first week you're there.

The two of you haven't touched each other and it’s such a stark difference from Joel having his hands in your hair, his cock buried in your cunt the very moment you two are confronted with each other.

Confronted. That's the appropriate word. Unsure if the interaction were predator versus prey, predator versus predator. Prey versus prey.

It was animalistic and visceral when the memories flood you after the two of you say goodnight. In the dark you feel comfortable enough to explore your body, even if it’s only to touch.

It feels like a luxury to let your body be soft.

You try to not think about it too much. It happens slow.

Joel's snoring just adjacently above and it gives you incentive to traverse into your pleasures.

Your hand pushes past your shorts, languidly prying your folds apart just to find release. A soft sigh from your mouth when at touch your fingertips brushing against your clit.

You think of Joel. It's hard not to. His stupid frown, the way he takes things seriously, but holds space for you. It's easy for you to get aroused by the things he does, but more difficult to think of how undeniably attractive he is.

How everything he does sends your blood racing straight to your core. His staggering breath when he works during the day, the sweat at his brow.

You want desperately to see the sweat at his brow from between your thighs. Want his mouth to work your cunt, tongue flick and swirl at your nub of thousands of nerves that you're rolling quicker and deeper in circles.

In your wandering mind you recall seeing Joel shirtless one morning. The event caused your breath to snag while you were making breakfast. It was so out of the blue considering when the one time the two of you did have sex, he was clothed. It felt intimate. That you got to see his scars, the hairs that adorned his chest.

Like he was letting you know not only did he want you, but he was waiting for you. That it was your turn to make a move. You really wanted to, but you weren't sure you could.

Your fingers run over your slick folds, over your clit harder at the thought of how the next move would go. If you were brave enough.

Maybe you'd ride his cock, your back to him. Let him get a good view of his cock buried inside of you. If you close your eyes, you could almost feel the stretch you felt a week ago. His warmth, the scent of sawdust and musk. The skill he had in making your toes curl.

Just like they were in this moment. Biting your free fist, the rush of heat greets your climax. You try to cut the whimper from the air, but it's a struggle.

"Joel," your whisper of a moan cuts the air and you hold your breath when you feel rustling from the loft. Which really sounds like a whine, and it doesn't help much at all.

You hold your breath at the peak of your orgasm, shuddering and rolling out of it when Joel's thick voice with sleep fills the space.

"Y'call me?" There's a yawn in there, too.

Your body is spasming, coming down, and the urge to exhale is so strong it stings your lungs. Your breath hitches on the way out.

It takes you precisely 45 seconds to respond.

"No, I'm fine."

Your voice sounds broken. Fucked.

"Alright." Joel doesn't seem to phased by it. Sounds annoyed he got woken up more than anything. "Hope it was good."

That leaves your cheeks redder than they could have by touching yourself.

You roll onto your side, sleeping off the wave of embarrassment.

---

"Up. Gotta go fishin'."

You groan, stretching on the couch and he tosses your pack in your direction.

"Quit whinin', y'did that enough last night."

You groan a whine more in humiliation. "Shut up," you yawn, not quite at the point of clarity where you can fight back.

"Whatever you say. Need food. So if you wanna eat, gotta work."

You've walked pretty far out from Joel's place. You know of the river he's referring to when he says he wants to go fishing, but the two of you hadn't been there together and you certain hadn't seen the collection of fishing gear the way Joel had.

Though he only brought enough for the two of you in case of raiders. In case of someone akin to yourself, your guilt reminds you.

It's not long before you're at the riverbank. Your eyes mesmerize over the water, the presence of Joel warm at your side.

He's physically closer to you today, and you know why. Your core flutters at the thought and frustration is its close friend of your nerves. Because why would it take him so long to be this close, and why did it take something slightly humiliating happen to you for him to want the proximity.

Joel tugs at your pack that's on your shoulders and you make a slight noise of surprise. The way he thinks he can have easy access to you like that, even for something simple like putting things in your backpack, sends your mind in a yo-yo.

Going back and forth between he likes me, he likes me not. You aren't used to this, and it makes you feel weak. Like you are under his whim. You grow increasingly vexed at the thought.

When you turn around you see him holding a can of corn, and it makes sense. Cordyceps and insects don't really mix with the need to eat. Opening a can of corn, Joel baits his hook with it then yours and you scoff.

"I can do that, you know." You roll your eyes, sending your line out into the water.

"Oh, you can? Thought your wrist might be out of commission. Was doin' you a favor, really."

"Month can't go by fast enough."

"No one's makin' you stay."

That's when you're quiet, your frame facing his as you hold out your rod with one hand. You look at him like he said something he shouldn't have. Like he knows you couldn't just leave now.

"I still have my gun, you know."

You threaten. It's all you've ever known how to do.

"Jesus Christ." Joel shakes his head, averting his gaze from yours.

You don't speak much after that, deep in thought of why the idea of him running you off evoked such strong emotions within you.

Neither of you have much luck which makes you both irritated that so much effort has been put into something that is clearly proving not to work today.

Worse yet, you're proving to be distracting to Joel. Especially with events from the night before burning in his mind.

He could be stoic all he wanted to, but he's not immune to the way you fill out your jeans. The curves that accentuate your frame as you send lines out. It causes his cock to stir, come to life at the thought of him pinning you against some tree. Of slipping those jeans down just enough to slide himself inside you. To stretch you.

To get you to shut the hell up.

He shifts to conceal himself.

Yet he remembers, still, of wet you were the moment you met. How eager you were to submit to him.

Joel could feel himself being called to you, and that made things... complicated. Made it harder to just fuck you. This challenged a certain lifestyle he spent years cultivating. He couldn't touch you. Not yet.

When you get back to Joel's cabin, you're both quiet. More annoyed with each other than anything. You're sweaty and your arms are sore and come back with one trout that you have to share.

Joel cleans it, you cook it, and you barely make acknowledge each other during dinner.

---

At night, you hear Joel moan something in his sleep. His body shuffles from the loft above you while you're tucked in and he sounds scared. Heartbroken. Like his world collapsed on itself. "Sarah, baby." Even in his sleep, you can hear the pain his voice.

You don't know who that is, but she must have been important. Must have been hard to see her go, if that was the case.

For yet another reason, you find resonance with Joel and it erases your tough day with him. Somehow.

The bed rattles as he flips from what you assume is his front to his back. The sounds of his night terrors pervade the night until slowly they resolve to silence. That almost seems more unnerving, but sleep takes you with him anyway.

You don't mention it in the morning.

---

In the evening, it's the last day of your first week. Somehow you made it through, you sarcastically think to yourself. Joel, despite his rough night, seems downright chipper. Like he wants to hang out with you outside of the routine you both have inadvertently created for yourself.

So you break open a bottle of whiskey and stack wood for the fire.

Although there's a generator that allows power, most of the time Joel uses candles and fire to save up on the supplies he has. The generator takes work and requires things that quite honestly are beyond your comprehension. He's obviously smart (annoying), and it shows in the things he tries to teach you – as if you'll be here longer than your verbal agreement.

It would feel like a dream if not for the constant worry someone or something could attack you at any moment. Especially when more times than not that person is yourself.

The location is pretty remote, but that doesn't mean much for the world you live in. Everything abandoned, including most people's empathy. Maybe even your own. Shame creeps up your spine to remind you just how you got here in the first place.

Taking the stout glasses from the cabinet, you take note of how soft your hair feels for the first time in a long time when you tuck it behind your ear. Focusing on not pouring the liquid anywhere but the glasses. Bringing the amber liquid over to Joel, your make it a point to brush your fingertips over the warm but solid hand that takes from you.

"Thank you, honey." You make it seem casual as you hold onto the edge of the couch to keep your knees from buckling at the term of endearment. Fuck him, he's not playing fair.

Like cat and mouse, when you think you have him, he buckles you under. Make you understand that he has more control over you than you care to realise.

A tangle that begs to be undone.

By the fire, you curl your legs when you sit on the couch and though at first it is quiet, by some weird miracle the two of you get to talking. The whiskey doing its job, you write off.

Joel keeps his cards close. That's plain to see.

So when he brings up the past, it blindsides you. He brings up his past. On his terms.

When he mentions life before all this, it's brief. No mentions of the people that would fill out spaces in your mind. No Sarah. It was more of what he did. Construction company. Football on Sundays. You see a genuine smile fall over his face, and he almost looks peaceful.

As the fire turns to embers, his gaze stays focused on the dull-orange glow and he looks tranquil.

"Enough about me, tell me 'bout you," Joel's eyes twinkle against the flame, and you'd give up the rest of your time here just to see that for a little while longer.

His voice sounds thicker like this. When he drinks. Like honey stuck inside his throat, the southern words are easy to string sentences together fluidly. You don't hide how it causes your heat to tilt to the side before realising just how hard-hitting that curiosity is.

A puff of breath exhales from your puckered lips when you lift both eyebrows. "Loaded request," you swallow the rest of the liquid courage and don't react when it stings your throat.

You tell him where you're from, parts of where you've been.

"Well. 'Was born a few years before... everything. Don't know much outside this type of life. This is probably one of the nicest places or... experiences I've ever had. You really know how to treat your bandits."

Even more indistinct than he was. Doesn't seem to bother him much.

Joel's toothy laugh startles you initially, but you soon register it's safe to do the same and your eyes gleam in response to each other. He keeps that contact with you as he finishes off his own drink to match you.

"Guess I got a soft spot for ones like you."

"Like me? What type of one might that be?"

"Nosy. Tender. Too mouthy."

You brush at your cheeks, exhaling a laugh and quiet slips again between the two of you. You're unsure of what to say, of how to keep the conversation going.

Your lips press together while you scan the room.

"You know, I've been here a week and I ain't seen you use that thing...," you wander off, changing the subject as you point at the record player collecting dust.

"That's 'cause it's for special occasions."

"Sounds to me like the 1988 Texas Longhorns NCAA National Championship should be a special occasion enough."

"Nosy. Mouthy."

"Inquisitive. Communicative. Tipsy, maybe."

"Definitely the latter."

You get your way.

Both of you stand from the couch to walk over to the record collection, and you see him pull out a record like it was made of glass.

"Texas's very own," Joel says with pride while gazing over the worn vinyl sheet of some Waylon Jennings record. The singer has a cigarette hanging from his lips in the picture and you stifle a giggle.

"What?" He asks, instantly defensive.

"Nothing! Just not used to seein' this type of stuff."

"You're in for a treat, babygirl." Shit. Your cheeks grows hotter if the whiskey didn't do it already.

Crackling starts off as the record adjust, and there's a part of you that feels sadness over the fact that you don't remember the last time you really heard music. Produced music before the outbreak.

You both sink into the couch again. The start of the record is upbeat, and equally your taste but not your taste at all.

You see the satisfaction slip over Joel's face though, and that makes it easier to get into as you pour you both another round.

"Neil Young wrote this song," you hear Joel drawl, unusually giddy and if you weren't at the edge of your seat hanging onto every word before, you are now.

Because you're getting a lesson and you're seeing him come alive. There's a part of you coming alive too, and you don't even get weirded out by the fact that this type of enthusiasm reminds you of your dad. It feels safe, familiar, and enjoyable to be around.

And so uniquely Joel, you don't get lost.

A completely different individual that somehow has entered your life and flipped it upside down.

If you weren't caught up being wrapped up around his finger, you could see yourself getting emotional over the ease of this interaction.

"Yeah?" you press, fist curling in your chin as you take a swig of your drink.

"Part of Harvest right after 'Heart of Gold'. Waylon changed the lyrics a little bit. He was known to do that."

You don't realise it, but you are grinning from ear to ear.

Like you detonated something you can't undo. Like you're watching the man's mind work in real time.

"That's pretty cool. Sounds like he did what he wanted to. Texan trait?"

"Somethin' like that." Joel grins, going back to his stillness and while you respect it, a part of you wants to say something to get him back on that train. You don't.

Joel turns the record and it's not long before you approach the end of it, a song that seems to resonate to him on an instant note causes him to close his eyes. Causes him to take in the music.

You begin to wonder what it's like when his fingers strum over a melody. If it's anything like what you just witnessed.

Whether it was the whiskey or attraction, Joel stands up. His hand reaches out for yours, and it looks so small in his hand when accept.

Joel doesn't give you much say in if you want to dance or not because he's pulling you to him, overwhelming your senses as your lips brush against the fabric of his shirt. You tiptoe to just graze his shoulder. "Ooph," you flush at the feeling of his head heavy against your own shoulder.

His arms wrap around you and you both sway. Your hands finding his hair, arms snaking around his neck. You don't move your feet very much. Instead, it's more you're holding each other. Like the drinks are kicking in and you're able to feel without the looming presence of consequence at your door.

The lyrics feel pointed, like they're saying everything he can't.

- I've got a couple more years on you, baby, that's all. -

Joel's chest vibrates at the response of his humming when his nose brushes against your hairline. Your skin heats, palm soft against the flesh of his neck and you know, unmistakably, that causes him to shiver.

Neither one of you able to look at each other yet. Despite it all.

Despite the obvious sign rearing its head.

- That's not that I'm wiser it's just that I've spent more time with my back to the wall. -

You tempt your cheek to brush against his. His stubble tickling and poking your skin at once while your thumb preoccupies the other side of his face. Against his temple, the shell of his ear.

Your eyes close because you feel so overwhelmed, all you want to do is memorise the way his body feels against you.

The solidity of his chest. The way his exhales filter through the hairs of his mustache. It causes your fingers to move from the side of his face to twist in his hair, pulling it gently if only to hold on tighter to him.

This stirs something within Joel. Makes him turn to face your neck.

There's a sort of dichotomy in the pound of your heart and how delicate it feels against the very ends of his lips. It takes you back to when you met. How he wouldn't touch his lips to the structure holding your head, and now he's brushing against it. Like he's wanting to be let in.

Even though it's feather light, it causes you gasp quietly. Your face goes crimson, moving your chin to face him.

Your lips now a sliver between each other.

You could run. You could scream. You could kiss him and let the throes of this take you under.

Definitely the latter, you decide. Pushing your mouth experimentally against the plush set, your ears ring in a way you weren't sure how they ever could.

- Saying goodbye girl don't ever come easy at all, but you've got to fly 'cause you're hearin' them young eagles call. -

Joel's lips chase yours, one hand cupping the side of your face and you feel the heat from it along your chin all the way up to the side of your head and behind your neck. It's inviting and feels discernibly uncomplicated for something the two of you resigned would be very complicated.

When the song ends, you pull away from him. You don't notice it straight away, but his arms have wrapped around you so tightly you can't get out of his grasp. And it doesn't feel overpowering, it feels tender. Joel's eyes soft like a doe's. Like the song absorbed into his blood. Like he feels that way about you.

You don't want him to let go, but there's an understanding when you pull back so does he and his grip is fleeting. Even if you objected, he still would back off. Leaving you warmed by the ghost of where his heat was.

The touch of him stays through your clothes.

There's two songs left on the record, but you aren't sure either of you are really listening to it. Joel turns around in the direction of the record player and is even more cautious than he was before in putting back the album, enveloping it in its label. Label in the sheet.

His hands careful, delicate amongst the thickness and roughness of them. You shudder, knowing he was this way with you. Protective.

When Joel back turns around, his eyes are dark. Like he's thirsty, but would only drink if you let him. He's deliberate in brushing past you on his way up to the loft, his presence lingering just at the end of the stairs.

"Come to bed."

It's simple, and what you come to learn, is Joel's way of asking. He don't. But he gives you room to make the choice.

You don't recall your eyes even scanning the living room. They only land on the broad frame in front of you, and you follow it like a beacon of light.

Beginning your second week, you don't sleep on the couch anymore.

---

It's in what you don't know. How Joel wakes up the night you hear his dream – covered in a cold sweat from a loop he has continuously gone through for years. What he could have done differently, how he could have positioned his body. Flashbacks.

His hands bracket over his eyes as he rubs them. Silently begging for peace. An end. Something.

You don't realise it, but the sight of you makes him calm. Even in your stubbornness and unwillingness to let him in. Even within his own set of inabilities to trust.

A true stillness invades his mind that hadn't experienced since the very subject of his nightmares.

He doesn't quite believe in fate, but if he did, Joel would be willing to bet she sent you.

Even more, he'd be willing to bet she would have liked you.

A/N (con't):

"a couple more years" by waylon jennings is the song they dance to. the lyrics the lyrics – cries in joel coded

[greycaelum]

Hi, Grey! Could you write some cuddling with Satoru after a long day with the Kaleidoscope series Reader? Preferably the current timeline where the Reader is pregnant with the 2 babies if that's alright ❤️ Thank you in advance!

Kaleidoscope Series—Clouds and Mochi Chapters: { Blankets }

—Gojo Satoru X Wife Reader

𑁍 Genre: fluff, pregnancy, domestic life, parenthood

𑁍 WC/CW/TW: (2.5k)—/overprotective Satoru and his love for his wife, kids, implied suggestive hints, implied negative traditional perceptions on twins—/

𑁍 A/N: I've always done angst stuff over the past Oct 31st... For the third time I'm spending this Oct 31st with him... this time it's fluff.

"They're sleeping," Satoru mumbled in a hushed tone. You sat on the recliner while he sat on the floor, his ear pressed to your growing baby bump with your hand brushing through his soft, fresh-cut hair. Which, by the way, you're very proud of because you managed to cut his hair perfectly, showing off the undercut you're obsessed with.

"Papa... I want to hold Mama, too." Saika jumped up and down, begging her father. Her hair is still like a bird's nest after waking up from her afternoon nap.

"Wait a second, Cat, Papa is still... Oh! They kicked!!! Honey, they kicked!" Satoru eyes widened. Blown out of his mind, he shot up and looked at you with a face as if he had won the lottery.

"I want to feel too!" Saika whined and hugged your arm.

"Me too! Me too!" Kouki came rushing when he heard his Papa from the kitchen.

Satoru shushed his kids as he laid his head again on your belly, waiting for more. As much as he loves his kids, he rarely catches the Little Sunshines moving around your tummy. Meanwhile, whenever he comes home, he hears the two munchkins bragging about how their little siblings kick when they are around.

You shook your head as your three cats crammed around your belly, hoping to catch the little ones' movement in your belly. But after a few more minutes, no more kicks came, and eventually, Satoru looked at you with a pout, hoping he could've felt more kicks. The two munchkins returned to what they were doing, leaving you and Satoru in the engawa watching the small inner zen garden while Satoru stayed on his knees waiting and waiting.

"You can't do this to Papa, munchkins... Don't you like my voice? You know I will be the one changing your diapers when you come out, so you have to be kind to Papa." Satoru poked your belly and smothered his face to your bump, tracing the past stretch marks and kissing them more. "Maybe I should give you a lotion massage so they'll get used to me holding you more and more, Honey." Satoru looked up to you with pleading eyes. "You know, as a father-child bonding!"

"Love, even if they don't keep kicking when you're around. I'm sure they know who you are... You are their Papa." You chuckled and pinched his nose.

"Who knows... they don't kick around much when I'm near, unlike others..." Satoru pouted. "I'm always working, so I wanna feel them kick too when I'm home."

You chuckled at his sentiment, finding his little jealousy more endearing than annoying.

"Mother and babies are connected... so I'm sure they know how much I love their Papa... Right Little Ones?" You caressed your belly and kissed Satoru's head.

With your pregnancy hitting the middle of your second trimester, your work in your cafe and the Gojo Clan dwindled even before you could ask for rest. Your parents often visit, bringing lots of food, and sometimes they take the two munchkins out so you can have a break. Your parents-in-law have also kept sending you tonics, and much to your mother-in-law's delight, she can visit almost any time of the day and see her grandchildren; your father-in-law took it upon himself to lessen Satoru's workload as the clan head, so you two could have as much time as you can knowing how sensitive your pregnancy is right now.

"I think... we should stop accepting gifts... You think so, sweetheart?" You sighed and hugged Kouki, who opened the newly arrived gifts from friends and acquaintances in congratulations for your pregnancy.

"You don't like gifts anymore, Mama?" Your son, sitting between your legs, looked up to you. You really have to convince him to cut his hair soon. It's longer than yours and Saika...

"Well... It's too much, and I doubt we can use all these gifts. Besides, it's tiring to keep opening them every day. They don't end." You sighed.

Kouki shrugged and pulled out another maternity pillow, the sixth one you received over the months.

"I can't wait for my baby brother and baby sister to come out," Kouki mumbled and looked up to you with a smile. "I'm gonna give them lots of squishmallows." He excitedly declared.

You cannot help but chuckle and pepper Kouki with kisses. The only thing he got from you is his eyes. The rest... He's just like his Papa. Mischievous yet turns to a cottony fluff around you.

"Mama... I hope my little sister and brother come out with your hair." Saika inhaled the scent of your hair and hugged you from the back. She begged to comb your hair for you in your girl's day out.

"Why? I like your hair too, sweetie~ It reminds me of Papa." You kissed his chubby cheeks, making her giggle and pepper you with her kisses.

"Mama's hair is so pretty!" She exclaimed and hugged you as you both looked at the mirror with matching bright smiles.

"Cramps?" Satoru murmured in the middle of the night as he felt you moved away from his arms. "Let me..." He immediately helped you lean on the headboard and gently eased your tensed muscles, earning you a slight whine of pain. "How long? You should've woken me up, pretty girl."

"I thought it would go away quickly... Besides, you were tired, Satoru. It's not as bad as last week." You exhaled and sighed as you watched your husband slowly massage your legs until the cramps subsided. Satoru held your ankles and played with your little toes until he saw you yawn.

"Baby... Let's go on a date tomorrow?" Satoru hummed and went back beside you so you could lay your head on his chest, and his arms wrapped around your shoulders

"If I feel better..." You nodded and quickly slipped back to sleep while Satoru was left to caress your seven-month-old belly. Sometimes, he wonders where you get the strength to hold two babies after you made him try the watermelon challenge... It made his hips cry in pain, carrying that weight around in just three hours...

"Don't give your Mama a hard time, okay?" Satoru hopes his little ones listen to him. If he's asked one thing that he's so proud to pass on to his kids, it would probably be his unconditional love for you... Whenever he sees his children surround you with love, his heart swells with pride, knowing he's doing a great job reflecting how much he loves you. It means a lot to see his children love the love of his life... "I love her so much to let her be in pain... so be good babies and behave inside your Mama, okay?" He poked your tummy.

Surely enough, the next day, Satoru brought you out to buy several maternity dresses, not that you needed them because you've had so much from Kouki and Saika. Still, knowing Satoru and his splurging tendencies, you find yourself getting dragged along the boutiques, fitting anything that catches your or his eyes.

"Let me help." He kneeled on one knee with your feet on his other knee as he fit the flat sandal in your foot. "Is it soft? Walk for a bit. If it's hard, we'll find another one." Satoru looked up to you and waited for your opinion. He switched from his blindfold into the Raybans. This time, you could easily see his eyes than usual so you don't miss the soft glint in his eyes when he subtly massaged your swollen ankles as he fitted the sandal.

At this point, the saleslady is just standing beside you, watching you and Satoru dreamily. It was as if Satoru became a professional shoe critic as he rummaged for the best sandals for pregnant women.

"Is it your first child, Madame? Sir looks so meticulous about everything." The saleslady made small talk as Satoru told you to wait while he paid.

"No, it's actually our third." You laughed, making the saleslady look at you in disbelief.

Satoru held your hand with the other sprawled protectively over your hips as he led you to the food court, knowing it was time for your orange juice.

"You know... We always get asked if it's our first child. Probably because you never seem to calm down and chill like the dads who were already done with their first baby." You sipped on your orange juice, filling your daily need for the sweet fresh juice paired with a guilty extra-large cheeseburger and fries. "I want to each purple yam milk tea..."

"Honey... You haven't even finished your food yet." Satoru opened his mouth for the fries you offered. "And we look so young, that's why. Pretty husband means pretty wife." He winked at you, making you roll your eyes.

You pursed your lips and continued eating anyway. Satoru does look younger for his age. Ijichi looks older than your husband. It's worth noting that it's Satoru's fault that his kouhai always looked so stressed.

"Have you thought of the names, Baby?" Satoru sipped on your juice, thanking whatever deities were watching over him right now that you didn't have a cranky moment when he drank from your drink. Pregnant women and their pet peeves...

"Yeah! I did!" You smiled brightly. "But don't ask. I'll surprise you when they're born." You giggled.

Satoru names Kouki and Saika. This time, it's your turn to name your babies.

Babies...

"They're not twins, Mother..." You sighed for the nth time. "And even if they are, I don't see any problem with it."

Your Mother-in-Law came over to chat. You can't blame her; despite being luxurious and vast, the Gojo Estate can be very dull to stay in.

"Yes, I know they aren't." She sighed. "But you know I just cannot help but worry for them, for you. You know how the remaining elders still hold the traditions even with the new administration. It is easy for them to label your children twins and isolate one or perhaps both."

Of course... Japan could be one of the most superstitious societies for a technologically advanced country, leaning more toward the conservative traditions passed down from the old days. It's the undercurrent Satoru has been going against for most of his life.

"Our children will be fine, Mother..." Kouki and Saika have been adjusting reasonably well between their everyday lives and those in the jujutsu society. "They don't have to join the jujutsu world if they don't want just because we are their parents."

Even Kouki doesn't have much interest in jujutsu besides his training with his Papa, which he enjoys well. Saika... She's just four. Aside from her liking to stay with Shoko and learning in the infirmary, there's nothing much to worry about.

You smiled at your Mother-in-Law. "We can't be with our children forever, but Satoru and I will ensure they will be strong enough to face their problems."

Satoru came home early. He has been so over the long run. A world where he's not the only pillar, a generation that can par his strength. He would love to lose the title of "the strongest" if it means he can also rest like this. It gets lonely on the top. And he's at the age to start worrying more if his daughter has a suitor or which boy has enough guts to face him and block any of them from snatching his little princess away rather than growing premature white hairs from staying up late because of overtime and chasing some ugly curses... not that his hair isn't already white...

He prefers chasing his wife in the bedroom...

His head pressed against your eight-month-old baby bump as you cuddled on the bed. Years ago, this simple dream of coming home as early as 5 in the evening seemed so far-fetched, but now it's a staple of his day. To lie down with you, to eat dinner with you, to take a bath together with you, and sometimes with the kids... to actually talk before one of you falls asleep first.

"When the kids are a little older, let's go on a trip..." He looked up to you. "Y'know, just the two of us..."

He could already imagine spending days in Basel, Switzerland, with you—the simplicity of the countryside, with green meadows and fresh air. Or hopping through boutiques and boutiques in France or him teaching you to surf in the wild waves at Bali...

"You're not tired of jumping from one place to another?" You chuckled.

"That's different." Satoru shrugged. "I go because it's work, and you're usually not with me. It's not like it's that fun roaming in the countryside of London to exorcise a banshee."

You laughed loudly. It's pretty accurate. Since you've birthed Saika, the times you went with Satoru on his overseas trips have dwindled from every week to twice in three months or even a little less. Having two children to look after, cute ones at that and naughty too, has drawn you to prefer the comforts of the home than hopping from one place to another.

"I'm sure their grandparents will be most happy to babysit for them while we're on a trip." You closed your eyes and stroked his head as he kissed your belly bump.

Satoru smiled at the sweet tone of your laugh as you lay your head on his chest, his arms carefully tucked you by his side, and pulled the soft quilt he bought last week after you mentioned that the previous blanket was too heavy and thick.

"Honey...?"

"Mnnn?" You opened your eyes and looked up to him.

Satoru gazed into your eyes. People who have seen his eyes often say they were breathtaking sapphires. But he begs to differ. Your eyes have always been his favorite. They were unclouded... and filled with love that his heart could not help but melt every time you looked at him with your tender gaze. He couldn't help but wish the coming little munchkins would have your eye color.

"Thank you for giving me Kouki, Saika, and these coming little munchkins." He's not the person who gets sentimental, but he has moments like this when it's only the two of you in the security of your home, in the confines of this simple bedroom.

"You are their father, Satoru, just as much as I am their mother.  We couldn't have had them if not for each other." Your noses met each other, and you playfully nuzzled against his, making him laugh as well.

A hand was placed at the back of your neck, and with a gentle tug, he kissed you softly, feeling the smile on your lips as he made sure you knew how much he adored you with every fiber. of his being.

—GreyCaelum

PLAGIARISM IS A CRIME

Check out the Masterlist for more

All rights and credits of the Jujutsu Kaisen character(s) mentioned images(s) and songs(s) used, belongs to their respective owner(s)

General/Kaleidoscope Series Taglist: @ice-icebaby @aeanya @gummy-dummy @tender-rosiey @lexiene @nevermoresworld @loml-riri @pelicanpizza @emichou-chan

[currentfications]

Reasons | Part 2

Pairing: Bada Lee x Reader, Felix x Reader?

Warning: Swearing, angst, toxic relationship

AN: I am going through some shit and will be taking it out on Howl and probably Felix (I do not have a personal vendetta against him except for the fact that he’s from Australia and I have an affinity with writing fellow aussies unlike with Howl oooo I’m telling you that shit is personal all I asked is for one chance Bada just one chance please). Thank you all for reading it still :)

Previous | Next

The streetlights blurred into one kaleidoscopic spell as y/n rested her head on Felix's shoulder in the steady car ride, still dizzy from all the excessive sobbing. The sharp pain from hours ago has since dulled, now throbbing against her temple.

It was around some four years ago when she first met Bada. She'd been invited to a dance class by her friend, who received a last minute work call. "Y/n I need a massive favor," she sounded out of breath as she hailed down a cab.

Strolling through the shops on a lazy Saturday afternoon, y/n glanced towards the address sent to her phone, blissfully unaware of the cruel joke fate was about to pull on her. JestJerk Studio- y/n couldn't help but fight back a chuckle fueled by childish humor. "I thought you said you were looking forward to this class? Something about a hot teacher- everything alright?"

"Yeah," a disappointed sigh was soon followed with a relieved one when she finally managed to hail down a ride, "I'm on call is all, didn't think they would actually assign me an overhaul flight. I mean it about the hot babe teaching the class by the way- when I land in 16 hours I better have a few pictures of her to help me acclimate to the jetlag."

Y/n breathlessly chuckled at her phone, checking the distance from the mall to the studio. "You're lucky I'm close by. You owe me a big one when you get back- I'm using my one day off a fortnight to attend your class-"

Y/n was cut off. "-and send pictures."

"I will send pictures," y/n reassured. "Now go have a safe flight, text me when you land!" Huffing a sigh, y/n wrapped up her shopping spree and headed towards the studio.

The flight attendant was right, the dance teacher was hot. Really hot. As a trainee, she was pretty much surrounded by pretty faces- but this, this is different. Maybe it's her height, or maybe her smile, or or maybe the way she moves. To say y/n was captivated was an understatement.

"Bada?" y/n tentatively approached after the lesson with a tightlipped smile, gripping her phone in her clammy hands as she remembered the promise she'd make.

The older girl's face lit up as she noticed her star student of the day approaching her. She too, had seen plenty of trainees come and go, but if there's one thing that taught her, it's the ability to recognise idol quality when she sees one. Plus, the fiery red hair is hard to miss. "Hi, y/n was it?"

Brimming with excitement when recognised by Bada, y/n nodded dumbly. "I- uh, c-can I please have a photo?" Fumbling over her words, y/n raised her phone to gesture instead.

"Yeah, of course!" Bada motioned the redhead to approach as she chirped sweetly, a warm smile fixed on her lips.

Y/n opened her mouth as if to say something before snapping her jaw shut, shuffling over to take a selfie with the older dancer. Bada reached a palm out to ask for the phone, before turning the phone over to snap a few selfies with the back camera. Heads tilted towards each other, the girls beamed at the series of shutter clicks, y/n's hand on Bada's shoulder to hoist herself slightly upwards for a better angle, Bada lifting the hand not used to hold the camera into a finger heart.

"Actually," y/n finally spoke up after the photo session, "my friend is wondering if they can have a picture of just you?" Recoiling at how awkward the request is, y/n slowly trailed off.

Letting out an incredulous chuckle, Bada handed the phone back to the shorter girl and took a step back to have her own pictures taken. "Remember to autograph them and send it to me," Bada teased, when y/n finally tucked the phone back into her pocket. "It'll be worth a lot of money once you're famous."

Y/n wonders if Bada still has the signed copy she eventually hand-delivered to the studio.

Squeezing her eyes shut at the fond memory, y/n pressed her head further into Felix's shoulder. Sensing the shuffle, he glanced over and ran a hand down her hair, an attempt at soothing the girl. She had long stopped crying since he found her curled up in the alleyway, but somehow the lack of tears in her eyes made her look more vacant. It pained him to see her like this.

"I thought you fell asleep," unsure of what to say to y/n, Felix continued to absentmindedly fiddle with a strand of her hair, the chemical treatments that all trainees' and idols' hair received had turned it brittle as y/n mental state right now. Fitting. "You should get some sleep," his voice barely above a whisper, lulling y/n into a daze. Her exhaustion is close to taking over but she still managed to shake her head a little.

Felix sighed. What happened? Y/n had always been a ray of sunshine for as long as he knew her- bubbly, charming, absolutely adorable; so what’s changed? His expression darken as a name came to mind- Bada Lee.

Bada Lee, the famous celebrity backup dancer turned choreographer, choreographer turned internet sensation following Street Women Fighter 2, internet sensation turned heartbreaker. All previous admiration he had held for the dancer crumbled with a glace towards y/n’s sulking feature. His hand dropped from y/n’s hair towards the corner of her eyes, wiping at the trail of evaporated salt water, glistening as the streetlights flicker past. Tracing a finger down her cheeks, stopping at her chin, Felix lifted y/n’s face to him with the knuckle of his finger. 

“Hey,” Felix’s coffee brown eyes met hers, faces inches apart, “she missed out. She fumbled the biggest bag in town- heartthrob of St. Patrick’s, finest trainee, and soon to be this town’s biggest débutée.” Y/n let out a halfhearted chuckle and pushed the brunette away, only for him to return his grip on her with palms on either side of her face. “I mean it. You deserve the world- don’t roll your eyes at me- you deserve someone who’d be proud of you and cherish you.”

Y/n let out a muffled protest, attempting to defend Bada. She’d say something along the lines of ‘she just needed some time, not everyone is ready for the world to perceive them as who they really are, especially in this conservative society’ if she was able to. 

As if reading her mind, Felix tutted and pulled her face even closer, “keep defending her and I’ll have to shut you up.” 

Felix slowly closed the last bit of distance between y/n’s and his faces, still cradling her face between his palms; he waited for a sign from the girl to recoil or push away, but as she docilely fluttered her eyes closed with a silent permission, Felix practically slammed his lips against hers. Truth be told, between the strict management and busy schedules, it has been a while since he last got to first base with anyone. 

The rustyness was not lost on y/n, who finally cracked a smile for the first time that evening (early morning) into the deepening kiss, no thanks to Felix's clumsiness. The rebound had proved himself useful. Biting down on his bottom lips, y/n buried a surfacing thought about Bada as she wrapped her arms around the neck of the boy to pull him closer. The dreaded feeling was shoved further down as Felix finally got a hold of himself and jammed his tongue into her gaping mouth, passionately licking off the taste of Bada from y/n’s mouth and replacing it with his. 

A gut wrenching wave of nausea washed over y/n as she wonders if Bada is doing the same with Howl.

[dmitriene]

— brighter than the sun.

ᴀᴜ ꜱᴜᴍᴍᴀʀʏ: Leon Kennedy, a former USSTRATCOM agent who is now on vacation and found his home as a gardener in a country village, and whom you will meet due to a completely random coincidence in an attempt to escape from the bustle of the city. ᴄᴏɴᴛᴇɴᴛ: re4! leon x fem! reader (this chapter is gn) ᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀ ᴛᴀɢꜱ: fluff, comfort, using of y/n, mention of kissing. ᴀᴜᴛʜᴏʀ'ꜱ ɴᴏᴛᴇ: hello! this is my first attempt in the series and some kind of completely my own story that was suddenly born in my head, i hope that i can make a good second part out of this and that you enjoy this work! please enjoy your reading) 🍵

next ch.

 ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌«i wanna take the train with you / i wanna run away with you»

 ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌  ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌ ᠌᠌ «come on run away / run away with me»

The bustle of the city is a thing from which after a certain time you want to escape, it is an eternal kaleidoscope of loud sounds and unnecessary movements that falls on the inhabitants of large cities, like you, like an endless stream, exhausting not only physically but also incredibly emotionally.

In this bustle, people become links in an endless chain where work responsibilities are woven, some of their family obligations and a desire, mixed with need, in order to maintain their social status.

The morning hours begin every day with big traffic jams on wide asphalt roads, where everyone tries to escape from the thick of the crowd and be in time for the beginning of the working day, then, refusing to work in the office, people are immersed in an endless stream of calls and emails, urgent meetings and the pursuit of time, which, as it seems, is never enough.

The lunch break turns into an attempt to escape from the working atmosphere, but even in a restaurant or cafe you can’t avoid calls and messages that strongly remind you that the world does not stop, after which you return to the office again, where the struggle with papers, numerous projects and deadlines continues until late evenings.

Lunchtime hours of work are most often the hardest, because all thoughts will be captivated by the thought that this will all be over soon, and as soon as the sun slowly reaches the horizon, painting the nearby high rises surroundings in a crimson color mixed with golden stripes of the last visible rays of the sun, as everyone immediately scatters, noisily and relieved, collecting their things in order to leave work as soon as possible and go home.

Thus, the city has always been for you an inexorable whirlwind of noise, approaching deadlines and heaps of stress, which, after time, began to drain you as much as possible, squeezing out all the feelings and emotions as if you were nothing more than a sponge.

And so, when the opportunity presented itself to change from the cacophony of beeps and sparkling screens to the silence of a rural village, a place that promised solace and family warmth, you took this chance with both hands.

(...)

It all started with a phone call, a sharp ringtone cutting through the monotonous hum of a typical work day, making you curiously look in his direction and notice with surprise the flashing name of your grandmother on the screen.

You haven’t talked to her for a long time, let alone seen her, the demands of a busy city life and work often left little time for such contacts, so with a smile on your lips, you answered the phone, wanting to hear her familiar voice.

— «Hello, grandma!»

you warmly greeted, and your heart fluttered at the sound of her gentle laughter on the other side of the line, forcing you to instantly distract yourself from everything else

— «Oh, dear, we haven't talked in so long»

she reproached playfully, once again making your heart clench at her warm, effervescent laugh, a smile intuitively finding its way to the corner of your lips.

— «How are you?»

The conversation proceeded without much effort, a truly soothing balm for your tired soul, when suddenly, among family stories, laughter and shared memories, your grandmother made a rather unexpected invitation, uttering in a fluttering voice

— «You know, dear, the village is now blooming with the most beautiful flowers..»

her voice is gentle and warm, against the background of the call, her steps were heard and after that your ears were enveloped by the sounds of loud chirping of birds and fleeting conversations, as she continued to speak, her voice, warm and with a touch of excitement, carried along the line

— «And I have a spare room.. why don't you take a short vacation and visit me, we haven't seen each other for such a long time?»

The invitation hung in the air, an oasis of calm amidst the chaos of your life, the thought of leaving the noisy city for the serene embrace of your grandmother's village was enticing, a chance to finally forget and rest that touched the strings of your heart.

A vacation in the countryside sounded like a dream, and the prospect of reuniting with your grandmother as well as escaping from the chaos of the city was irresistible, so with a surge of enthusiasm, you responded instantly

— «You're right, it sounds wonderful, granny, I'll arrange everything and come to you as soon as possible»

(...)

A few days later, you found yourself packing your bags eagerly, already letting your fantasies paint the deepest recesses of your head with pictures of what was to come.

The urban frenzy seemed to recede with every thing you put in your suitcase, replaced by a sense of calm anticipation, and the thought of reuniting with your grandmother made you smile, while the prospect of exploring the countryside added to the excitement.

Packing things for you was like orchestrating a symphony of excitement and long awaited anticipation, a dance between practicality and whimsy as you carefully choose the essentials, allowing yourself to dream of the adventures that await you.

Every item you put in your suitcase becomes a tangible reminder of the journey ahead, a physical manifestation of the excitement that flows through your veins and makes you even a little worried that something will go wrong, or maybe the trip will not be as cheerful as you expect.

The process of packing really becomes a reflection of your full anticipation, a physical manifestation of the emotions seething inside you with every thing that you put inside bags and a small suitcase.

As soon as you zip up your suitcase, anticipation reaches its climax, the soft click of lightning is like turning a page in a book, signaling the start of a new chapter, while your heart flutters with a mixture of nervousness and excitement, like a child on the eve of a new adventure.

Stepping away from your neatly packed suitcase and small bag, you look back with a smile, your mind already wandering to the places you might explore and the people you will meet, whereby the burden of everyday duties begins to subside, replaced by a sense of liberation at the imagining of the journey that looms on the horizon like a once empty canvas.

The night before departure is restless dreams full of hopes and expectations, your sleep is an absolutely fleeting companion while your mind is in a hurry with thoughts of new sights, sounds and experiences, you imagine the excitement and awe that lies in anticipation in your head from the realization that tomorrow everything will gradually begin change.

Morning comes and with it a feeling of cheerfulness, your bags on top of your suitcase are ready at the door, a physical manifestation of your willingness to accept the unknown and surrender to a spontaneous decision, but the excitement seething inside you is palpable, it is a mixture of nervousness and joy from which the heart is beating wildly and the blood is flowing much faster than usual.

As soon as you walk out the door, the outside world seems different, filled with the promise of adventure, and the air seems fresher, the sun is brighter, and the sounds of the city are noisier than usual, as is the expectation of the long awaited vacation that you are closer to with every packed bag in the trunk of your car, before you slammed it shut as you got behind the wheel and pulled out of the garage.

(...)

The journey was scenic, the scenery changing from towering skyscrapers to rolling hills and open skies, the closer you got to the village, the more your heart seemed to expand with a quiet sense of belonging to your surroundings, memories of childhood visits to your grandmother's quaint cottage danced through your mind in the circle — the aroma of freshly baked apple pie, the soft creak of a wooden swing on the porch and the warmth of her quivering embrace.

The verdant landscapes and flower fields were a breathtaking canvas, and your anticipation grew with every kilometer you drove as anticipation swept through your mind as soon as the village appeared beyond the horizon of your view.

(...)

When you finally arrived in the village, you were instantly overcome by a feeling of nostalgia, pleasantly pressing on your heart.

The quaint cottages lined the cobbled streets, adorned with wildly growing plants and flower pots, creating a sense of enchantment and a sort of fairy tale that was hard to resist, the air was crisp and carried an earthy scent of nature with a hint of wildflowers in stark contrast to artificial aromas of the city that seemed to you more familiar than clean air, caressing the lungs with its lightness.

Parking your car in front of Grandma's cottage, you breathed in the silence for a moment, unable to help smiling at the sight of her meticulously manicured garden whose bright flowers painted a colorful tapestry and the gentle rustle of leaves seemingly welcoming you with open arms before you climbed the small stairs in front of the cottage doorstep, looking around a small wooden swing on the porch, when suddenly the front door opened just at the moment when you were about to knock and you were immediately greeted by the beaming smile of your beloved grandmother.

Her eyes shone with joy as her arms wrapped around you in a warm and tight embrace, her presence a reassuring confirmation that some things never change, no matter how much time passes.

In her hands, memories of the summer spent here flooded instantly — laughter, homemade pies and love, which seemed to envelope every corner of the small village, and reunion with her fluttered in your chest, a warm feeling spilling through your veins.

Wrinkles indicating her wise age adorned her cheeks, and her eyes sparkled with joy even more as her embrace became gentler, as if more comforting.

— «My dear, how I've missed you» she whispered in a soothing melody.

Tears of happiness welled up in your eyes as you wrapped your arms around her and hugged her in return, her embrace was like a warm cocoon protecting you from worldly cares and allowing you to bathe in the love that only a grandmother could offer, the comfort that a family can offer.

For a while, you stand like this, as if there is no longer a village, no human fuss, and even no sounds, enjoying only the warmth of the long awaited reunion and the beating of each other's hearts until her warm hands fall off you, gently wrapping around your shoulder and leading you inside the cottage, saying

— «Let's get inside my dear, i'm sure we have a lot things to talk about»

(...)

The days that followed were a blissful spot of relaxation and reunion on your life, pulling into it's rhythm as you helped your grandmother tend her garden and your fingers found solace in the slightly damp earth as you grew plants together.

The sun drenched days were spent in the company of bright flowers and the sweet singing of birds, and the calm beauty of the village penetrated your soul and brightened up peaceful everyday in the circle of this life, bright flowers and fragrant herbs in the garden seemed to sing a welcoming choir, and their beauty testified about your grandmother's caring touch.

And it was on one of those peaceful evenings that your paths crossed with Leon Kennedy.

You were caring for a bed of fragrant herbs, studying them and inhaling their pleasant aroma, watching how well groomed the plants were and their even row on an earthen ridge, when suddenly a friendly voice broke the silence, forcing you to raise your head

— «Hey there! Need a hand with those?»

Standing next to you was a man with startling blue eyes that sparkled with the charming rays of the sun at sunset, reflected in his eyes as if in mirrors while a slight smile played on his lips, and his hand combed back strands of his fluffy blond hair.

His attire, which was a beige apron and a strap with various scissors and spatulas, indicated that he was a gardener, and his presence radiated a sense of calm that matched the surroundings.

— «It would be great)» you responded with a smile, welcoming his offer of help.

Leon knelt beside you as his fingers worked deftly throughout the entire time as he harvested herbs with practiced precision as you worked together, the conversation flowing effortlessly like a gentle stream winding through the landscape of the village.

— «Name's Leon, by the way, Leon Kennedy)»

he said in a genuinely friendly way, giving you a smile, making you politely mutter back

— «Y/n L/n)»

Leon talked about his role as a gardener in the village and how he is a former agent currently on extended leave, as well as working with your grandmother to grow medicinal plants on her property, as she needed both them and help, his passion for growing plants and the welfare of the village were evident in his every word.

The sun began to go down, flooding the garden with warm light as the initial awkwardness gave way to a pleasant acquaintance, and when you two shared stories and laughed, it was like new feelings and future sensations were born, Leon's laughter was infectious, and his tales of events in the villages and its inhabitants painted a vivid picture of life in the area as he enthusiastically shared the therapeutic properties of the various herbs he grows both in his garden and at your grandmother's.

When the evening painted the sky in shades of pink and gold, warming the horizon and numerous glades with warm rays, you and Leon exchanged smiles and parted, the promise to meet again was in the air and the warmth of his presence was still felt next to you in the air, making you look forward to next meeting with him.

(...)

Days turned into weeks and your interactions with nice guy — Leon, became a part of your new routine as you explored the village's hidden gems, overlooked its charming shops and enjoyed the simple pleasures it had to offer, his company was a source of solace, and his light and chesty laughter is like a balm for the soul.

One evening, as the sun set in a glow of scarlet and pink, blazing in the background, you and Leon found yourself by the village pond, a quiet and small oasis that reflected the serenity you found in each other's presence, his bluish jacket resting on your shoulders, being previously offered to keep you warm.

The water shimmered like liquid gold thanks to the iridescence of different shades of red and gold, reflecting the shades of the sky in its depths of a transparent surface through which one could even see some of the pebbles at the bottom.

— «It seems to me that such moments make you appreciate the beauty of simplicity»

the velveteen tone of his voice interrupted the rustle of leaves in the light cool breeze and the slight sound of water, forcing you to look at Leon and tilt your head slightly to the side.

You nodded in agreement, captivated by the peaceful scene in front of you, speaking softly as a smile curled up on your lips

— «Absolutely, it’s a nice transition from urban chaos»

Leon suddenly turned to you, the warmth of the reflecting sky playing in his glassy eyes that sent chills down your spine as you slowly studied how the bright orange light of the beams emphasized his features and fluffy strands of hair that seemed to glisten under the sun.

— «You know, since you arrived, the village has been like a breath of fresh air»

Your heart skipped a beat, and his words lit a gentle blush on your cheeks almost the color of a pinkish sunset in the sky, the connection between the two of you really deepened over time, turning into something with a promise for more, but you didn’t like to think and rush, especially given that you are not in this oasis forever.

— «I feel the same way.. your presence has brought me a sense of comfort and joy that i have been missing, Leon»

You admitted in a soft but confident tone of voice, watching as in the soft embrace of the fading light, Leon's smile was a beacon of confidence and your general silent confirmation of the emotions that blossomed between you two.

When the first stars appeared on the night canvas of the sky, as if an artist had shaken white paint from a brush onto a canvas, Leon stepped closer, and his fingers found yours in a gentle embrace of the slightly tingling touch of fingertips and gentle strokes on the knuckles.

— «You made this village even more special»

His voice is a gentle whisper in the form of pure recognition, while the world around you seems to have disappeared, leaving only the two of you under the gaze of the milky stars.

And exactly at that moment, with a gentle rustle of leaves and a distant chirping of crickets as the only witnesses of everything that happens, you leaned over and touched your lips to his in a sweet and tender kiss, tenderness played on the very tip of your tongue like a cloying sweetness, a whirlwind of butterflies gathered below your belly.

This kiss was like a new kind of conversation and communication between you, talking about sharing laughter and new experiences, peace of mind in the feeling of something beautiful and warm, while your lips parted towards each other with a sense of formed belonging, a feeling that you both found a place where you can drown in the peace of the heart and its rhythmic heartbeat.

In the serene comfort and tremulous embrace of the village, you found solace not only in its beautiful gardens and secluded paths, but also in the depths of this man’s heart, finding in him such comfort and peace that you lack while your fingers continued to intertwine in silent dialogue, and his lips endlessly sensually covered yours, pressing the top of your head against you in between and studying your deep gaze hidden under a fan of eyelashes.

This chapter of your journey will be imprinted in your memory as a cherished memory that suddenly bloomed in the heart of the countryside, but until then, you will not think ahead.

© dmitriene - my masterlist

please, don't copy my works as your own, and if you want to post them somewhere else - contact me.

reblogs, likes and comments are very much appreciated, thank you for reading! ♡

[zapreportsblog]

↱ beneath the waves ↰

➘ summary : the princess of mermaids explores a strange cave and ends up in a completely different world far away from the sea and her people, will she be able to find her way back home or will she forever be trapped here? Plus, will being trapped here even be the end of her life or will something come along and help her on this journey, perhaps someone?

➘ a/n : imagine Ariel but like in pandora? Hopes that helps. Honestly I have no clue where I got this idea but I seen a picture of the new Ariel movie and was like I’m “imagine the possibles” there will be a twist on the character though, also since I don’t know much about avatar the way of water this will be completely random and not follow much of the movies storyline, some details might be wrong but bare with me please, thank you! Oh and btw this will be a series

➘ avatar the way of water x reader

In the fathomless depths of the marine trench, hidden from the world above, lay the mermaid kingdom. Its opulent palaces shimmered with a radiant beauty, and its denizens lived in harmony with the currents and the creatures of the deep. Yet among them, (Y/N), the princess of the mermaid kingdom, possessed a uniqueness that set her apart from the rest.

Her skin bore a hue that was both enchanting and uncommon – a shade that resembled the interplay of sunlight and shadows on the ocean floor. Her eyes were captivating, appearing to emit a faint, ethereal glow in the darkness that surrounded them. They held a depth and intensity, reflecting the myriad mysteries of the ocean's abyss. Her hair flowed like liquid silk, cascading in waves of a color that mirrored both the shifting tides and the midnight sky.

(Y/N) embraced her differences, finding solace in the thought that her features were a testament to her royal lineage and a reminder of the uncharted wonders lurking beneath the surface. But despite her self-assuredness, a curious spirit burned within her. She yearned to explore the hidden corners of her underwater kingdom, to uncover secrets and unveil the enigmatic stories that her ancestors whispered through the currents.

One day, her heart brimming with curiosity, (Y/N) ventured far from the heart of her kingdom, swimming toward the outskirts where the coral gardens gave way to secluded underwater caves. The cold currents whispered secrets, and the distant songs of the whales echoed in the background. As she swam deeper into the cave, her surroundings grew dimmer, and a sense of excitement pulsed through her veins.

Suddenly, her gaze fell upon an extraordinary sight – the walls of the cave adorned with luminescent rocks, casting an otherworldly glow that painted the darkness with hues of cerulean and aquamarine. The colors danced around her, illuminating her unique features in a kaleidoscope of shimmering light.

Guided by the mesmerizing hues, (Y/N) swam on, the thrill of discovery pushing her onward. At the end of the cave, a beckoning light awaited, casting its gentle radiance like a beacon. Drawn to the promise of something new, she swam closer, her heart pounding with anticipation.

But as she neared the light, the enchantment in the air shifted. Unbeknownst to her, the light concealed a magical gateway, a passage to a realm beyond her imagination. The light grew brighter and brighter, until the brilliance became overwhelming. A feeling of dizziness washed over her, and before she could react, darkness swallowed her consciousness.

In a heartbeat, (Y/N) tumbled into a void, her body weightless as if suspended between worlds. The sensation was disorienting, as though time and space themselves had been unshackled. The swirling darkness enveloped her, and her consciousness began to slip away, surrendering to the enigmatic magic that had engulfed her.

And so, (Y/N)'s journey into the unknown began, her fate uncertain, and the depths of the magical passage beckoning her onward. As she drifted between realms, the tendrils of darkness cradling her form, the mermaid princess remained oblivious to the world she was about to encounter, unaware that her tale had only just begun.

As (Y/N) began to regain consciousness, her surroundings shifted from the abyssal darkness to the soft embrace of a forest floor. The air was thick with the scent of foliage and earth, and the gentle rustling of leaves whispered secrets of the natural world around her. She felt disoriented, her body lighter than before, and her senses attuned to new sensations.

Blinking her eyes open, she realized with astonishment that she now possessed human legs. The strange limbs were a deep shade of blue, reminiscent of the ocean depths that had once been her home. They felt foreign and yet somehow natural, as if they were meant to be a part of her.

As (Y/N) tentatively moved her legs, she felt a strange sensation at her lower back. With a start, she twisted her body to look behind her, her eyes widening at the sight of a smaller, fish-like tail attached to her. It was a stark contrast to the majestic mermaid tail she had once possessed, but there was an inexplicable charm to its uniqueness.

Pushing herself onto her hands and knees, (Y/N) crawled toward a nearby puddle. As she gazed into the water's reflection, her heart skipped a beat at the sight of her transformed features. Her skin was now a shade of blue adorned with delicate white strip-like patterns that adorned her arms, torso, and legs. Her hair, just as before, cascaded like liquid silk, but now it was even longer, brushing against the forest floor.

Her eyes, once a mesmerizing blend of colors, now shimmered in hues of blue and exchanged, as if a piece of the ocean had been captured within her gaze. The realization that she was no longer a mermaid but something entirely new – a hybrid of land and sea – sent waves of both wonder and trepidation through her.

A soft breeze rustled through the trees, carrying with it the sweet fragrance of blossoms and the earthy scent of the forest floor. The forest itself seemed like a world untouched by time, a sanctuary where vibrant flora and towering trees flourished in harmony. Rays of sunlight pierced through the leaves, casting dappled patterns on the ground. Strange creatures, both tiny and colossal, moved through the undergrowth, their calls echoing in the air.

In the distance, (Y/N) caught sight of vibrant bioluminescent plants that illuminated the forest like scattered stars. The soft glow they emitted created an ethereal atmosphere, casting a luminescent haze that made the surroundings seem almost magical.

As she absorbed the beauty of the forest around her, (Y/N) couldn't help but feel a mixture of awe and uncertainty. She was in a world unlike anything she had ever known, a place that seemed to defy the boundaries of imagination. And in her transformed state, she had to navigate this new reality, discover her place in it, and unravel the mysteries that had brought her here.

With each step she took, her blue feet pressing against the forest floor, (Y/N)'s journey into this captivating realm had only just begun. The forest whispered its secrets to her, the foliage cradling her like a silent guardian, and the mysteries of Pandora awaited her exploration.

[bbkissme99]

Gojo Dad Au fic recs part 2

Family Formation’s - Chronological Masterlist

Family Formation Masterlist

✎ LOVE ENTRIES — an anthology | gojo satoru

ᴜɴᴡɪʟʟɪɴɢ ᴛᴇꜱᴛ ꜱᴜʙᴊᴇᴄᴛ - ꜰᴀᴍɪʟʏ ꜰᴏʀᴍᴀᴛɪᴏɴꜱ

a few times when Satoru was proud of his little son achieving his milestones

If there’s one thing that Gojo and Megumi have in common, it’s that they don’t know how to comfort girls.

husband gojo x wife!reader

POPSICLE  RELATIONSHIP: MEGUMI & GOJO AS FATHER AND SON

Megumi

Every time your daughter outgrows a onesie,Satoru sheds a tear

reader and gojo have a daughter

Kaleidoscope Series Masterlist

family rules-verse ⋆☆˖

some random dad!gojo headcanons

gojo satoru as a dad

in which you're worried about how he'd react to you carrying his baby

moments like this were few and far between.

what, am i not allowed to look at you

satoru spoils his daughter

the snow falls

right where you left me

recess

trouble comes twice

dad!gojo being away on a business trip

gojo with a baby

Gojo Satoru being a heartwarming dad.

Soft Spot

Satoru's wife and his daughter gossip about him.

Baby megumi with gojous s/o and gojou getting jealous of all the attention

how I met your mother

fushiguro... you never told me your mom was so hot!

invisible string (gojo x you)summary: the story of the first time megumi used ten shadows.

Gojo despises the titles put to his name

grip and giggle — gojo satoru x f!reader

Satoru’s newborn son felt like a feather in his arms.

little lunch mishap - s. gojo x reader

If there is one person he unquestionably respects, there's only one person in his mind.

First Words~ Gojo Satoru

smack, smack — gojo satoru x f!reader

slip up — gojo satoru x f!reader

butterfly — gojo satoru x f!reader

missing – gojo satoru x f!reader

team up — gojo satoru x f!reader

girl dad — gojo satoru x f!reader

to protect — gojo satoru x f!reader

Gojo seeing his newborn son or daughter for the very first time after his wife gets through delivery!

𝐆𝐎𝐉𝐎 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔... never thought that in a million years he would be using his six eyes to play hide 'n seek with little kids.

𝐃𝐀𝐃 𝐒𝐀𝐓𝐎𝐑𝐔 𝐕𝐈𝐒𝐈𝐓𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐎𝐋 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐒𝐓 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐃𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑

Megumi being big brother figure to gojo and y/n’s kids

[8:31 AM] PAPA!GOJO

GOJO SATORU || FAMILY

GOJO SATORU || LIFE WITH A SON

GOJO SATORU || HIS S/O BEING PREGNANT

every rose and its 'twin prickles'

that funny little girl ෆ also known as, papa! gojo satoru who takes bath time so very seriously, he cries about it.

Summary: The kids get to play with their cousins, Nanako and Mimiko.

・✶ ｡ﾟ[7:13pm] — gojo satoru. dad!au, gojo satoru was a sap.

daycare/ girl dad! gojo hcs

MINI ME

Just Satoru being absolutely smitten with his little girl &lt;3

papa's scary face

Gojo holds baby Hotaru and something unexcepted and wholesome happens.

your daughter's favorite routine in the morning is definitely waking her daddy with kisses all over his face.

SATORU GOJO IS A GIRL DAD.....

every rose and its 'twin prickles'

𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐝𝐚𝐲 𝐢𝐬 𝐡𝐢𝐦 𝐛𝐞𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐬𝐭 𝐠𝐢𝐫𝐥 𝐝𝐚𝐝

round one: babies vs dad

your friend's getting married and you were invited. the there of you, actually. you, satoru, and your daughter.

His little princess

Mini Gojo

[thewidowsghost]

Seeing the Beauty (Jackson!Reader x Piper McLean) - Chapter 1

Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist

Jason wakes in the backseat of a school bus, not sure where he is, sitting beside a girl he doesn’t know. He shakes her head slightly, rubbing his eyes, trying to think.

A few dozen kids sprawl in the seats in front of him, listening to iPods, talking, or sleeping. They all look around his age . . . fifteen? Sixteen? Okay, that’s scary, he thinks, closing his eyes. I don’t know my own age.

The bus rumbles along a bumpy road and Jason’s eyes open again, he looks over at the girl he’s holding hands with. The girl was cute, but he doesn’t know who she is or what he’s doing there. Outside, desert rolls by under a bright blue sky. Jason is pretty sure that he doesn’t live in the desert. He tries to think back . . . the last thing he remembers . . .

The girl squeezes his hand. “Jason, you okay?”

She is wearing faded jeans, hiking boots, and a fleece snowboarding jacket. Her chocolate brown hair is cut choppy and uneven, with thin strands braided down the sides. She wears no makeup like she is trying not to draw attention to herself, but it doesn’t work. She is seriously pretty. Her eyes seem to change color like a kaleidoscope - brown, blue, and green.

Jason lets go of her hand. “Um, I don’t -”

In the front of the bus, a teacher shouts, “All right, cupcakes, listen up!” The guy is obviously a coach. His baseball cap is pulled low over his hair, so the students can just see his beady eyes. He has a wispy goatee and a sour face, as if he’d just eaten something moldy. His buff arms and chest push against a bright orange polo shirt; his nylon workout pants and Nikes are spotless white. A whistle hangs from his neck, and a megaphone is clipped to his belt. He would’ve looked pretty scary if he hadn’t been five feet zero. When he stands up in the aisle, one of the students calls, “Stand up, Coach Hedge!”

“I heard that!” the coach scans the bus for the offender. Then his eyes fix on Jason, and then the girl sitting right in front of him.

A jolt goes down Jason’s spine. He is sure that the coach knows he shouldn’t be there. He was going to call Jason out, demanding to know what he's doing on the bus - and Jason would have no clue what to say.

But Coach Hedge looks away and clears his throat. “We’ll arrive in five minutes! Stay with your partner. Don’t lose your worksheet. And if any of you precious little cupcakes causes any trouble on this trip, I will personally send you back to campus the hard way.” He picks up a baseball bat and makes like he is hitting a homerun.

Jason looks at the girl next to him. “Can he talk to us like that?”

She shrugs. “Always does. This is the Wilderness School. ‘Where the kids are the animals’.” She says it like it is a joke they’d shared before.

“This is some kind of mistake,” Jason says. “I’m not supposed to be here.”

The girl in the seat in front of him turns to meet his gaze. Jason starts slightly at the girl’s features, sea-green eyes, close cropped (H/c) hair, and scars littering her face.

“Same,” she meets Jason’s gaze with the same unsteady look he figured was gleaming in his own eyes.

The boy beside the green eyed girl turns and laughs. “Yeah, right, Jason. We’ve all been framed! I didn’t run away six times. Piper didn’t steal a BMW. (Y/n) didn’t flood four school bathrooms.”

The (H/c) haired girl’s, (Y/n), Jason supposes, eyes widen significantly.

Piper blushes. “I didn’t steal that car, Leo!”

“Oh, I forgot, Piper. What was your story? You talked the dealer into lending it to you?” he raises his eyes at Jason like, Can you believe her?

Leo looks like a Latino Santa’s elf, with curly black hair, pointy ears, a cheerful, babyish face, and a mischievous smile that told people right away that this guy shouldn’t be trusted with matches or sharp objects. His long, nimble fingers wouldn’t stop moving - drumming on the seat, sweeping his hair behind his ears, fiddling with the buttons of his army fatigue jacket. Either Leo is naturally hyper or he is hopped up on enough sugar and caffeine to give a heart attack to a water buffalo.

“Anyway,” Leo tells Jason, “I hope you’ve got your worksheet, ’cause I used mine for spit wads days ago. Why are you looking at me like that? Somebody draw on my face again?”

“I don’t know you,” Jason says, meeting a wary (Y/n)’s eye.

Leo gives him a crocodile grin. “Sure. I’m not your best friend. I’m his evil clone.”

“Leo Valdez!” Coach Hedge yells from the front. “Problem back there?”

Leo winks at Jason. “Watch this.” He turns to the front. “Sorry, Coach! I was having trouble hearing you. Could you use your megaphone, please?”

Coach Hedge grunts like he is pleased to have an excuse. He unclips the megaphone from his belt and continues giving directions, but his voice comes out like Darth Vader’s. The kids crack up. The coach tries again, but this time the megaphone blares: “The cow says moo!” The kids howl, and the coach slams down the megaphone. “Valdez!”

Piper stifles a laugh. “My god, Leo. How did you do that?”

Leo slips a tiny Phillips head screwdriver from his sleeve. “I’m a special boy.”

“Guys, seriously,” (Y/n)’s eyebrows are furrowed with confusion. “What am I doing here? Where are we going?”

Piper knits her eyebrows as Jason nods. “Are you two kidding?”

“No! I have -”

“No! I have no idea -”

“Aw, yeah, he’s joking,” Leo says. “He’s trying to get me back for that shaving cream on the Jell-O thing, aren’t you?”

Jason stares at him blankly. “No, I think he’s serious.”

Piper tries to take his hand again, but he pulls it away. “I’m sorry,” he says. “I don’t - I can’t -”

“That’s it!” Coach Hedge yells from the front. “The back row has just volunteered to clean up after lunch!”

The rest of the kids cheer.

“There’s a shocker,” Leo mutters. But Piper kept her eyes between (Y/n) and Jason, like she can’t decide whether to be hurt or worried. “Did you hit your head or something? You really don’t know who we are?”

Jason shrugged helplessly. “It’s worse than that. I don’t know who I am.”

(Y/n) lets out a grunt of agreement.

. . .

The bus drops the students off in front of a big red stucco complex like a museum, just sitting in the middle of nowhere.

Maybe that’s what it is, Jason thinks, the National Museum of Nowhere.

A cold wind blows across the desert.

(Y/n) hadn’t paid much attention to what she is wearing, but she’s glad for how warm it is: black jeans and sneakers, a tattered orange t-shirt, and a black bomber jacket.

“So, a crash course for the amnesiacs,” Leo says, in a helpful tone that makes Jason think this is not going to be helpful. “We go to the ‘Wilderness School’”- Leo makes air quotes with his fingers. “Which means we’re ‘bad kids.’ Your family, or the court, or whoever, decided you were too much trouble, so they shipped you off to this lovely prison - sorry, ‘boarding school’ - in Armpit, Nevada, where you learn valuable nature skills like running ten miles a day through the cacti and weaving daisies into hats! And for a special treat we go on ‘educational’ field trips with Coach Hedge, who keeps order with a baseball bat. Is it all coming back to you now?”

“No.” Jason glances apprehensively at the other kids: maybe twenty guys, about a dozen girls. None of them look like hardened criminals, but he wonders what they’d all done to get sentenced to a school for delinquents, and he wonders why he belongs with them.

Leo rolls his eyes. “You’re really gonna play this out, huh?” he questions. “Okay, so the three of us started here this semester.” He looks over at (Y/n). “You’ve been here forever, you were like, twelve, when you arrived.”

(Y/n) blinks confusedly. That doesn’t feel right, she thinks.

“We’re totally tight,” Leo continues. “You do everything I say and give me your dessert and do my chores -”

“Leo!” Piper snaps, seeing the devastatingly confused look on (Y/n)’s face.

“Fine. Ignore that last part. But we are friends. Well, Piper’s a little more than Jason’s friend, the last few weeks -”

“Leo, stop it!” Piper and Jason’s face goes red. Jason thinks that he’d remember that he’d been going out with a girl like Piper. “They’ve got amnesia or something,” Piper goes on. “We’ve got to tell somebody.”

Leo scoffs. “Who, Coach Hedge? He’d try to fix them by whacking them upside the heads.”

The coach is at the front of the group, barking orders and blowing his whistle to keep the kids in line’ but every so often, he’d look at both Jason and (Y/n) and scowl.

“Leo, Jason and (Y/n) need help,” Piper insists. “They’ve got concussions or -”

“Yo, Piper,” One of the other guys drop back to join them as the group is heading into the museum. The new guy wedges himself between Jason and Piper and knocks Leo down. “Don’t talk to these bottom-feeders. You’re my partner, remember?”

The new guy has dark hair cut Superman style, a deep tan, and teeth so white they should’ve come with a warning label: Do not stare directly at teeth. Permanent blindness may occur. He is wearing a Dallas Cowboys jersey, Western jeans and boots, and he smiles like he was God’s gift to juvenile delinquent girls everywhere. Jason hates him instantly.

“Go away, Dylan,” Piper grumbles. “I didn't ask to work with you.”

“Ah, that’s no way to be. This is your lucky day!” Dylan hooks his arm through hers and drags her through the museum entrance. Piper shoots one last look over her shoulder like, 911.

A girl wearing jeans and a pink top and enough makeup for a Halloween party stalks over to (Y/n).

“Come on, cutie,” the girl places a hand on (Y/n)’s bicep. “You’re my partner.” The girl, Isabel, pulls (Y/n) by the arm.

. . .

The students walk through the building, stopping here and there for Coach Hedge to lecture them with his megaphone, which alternatively makes him sound like a Sith Lord or blares out random comments like, “The pig says oink.”

Leo keeps pulling out nuts, bolts, and pipe cleaners from the pockets of his army jacket and putting them together, like he has to keep his hands busy at all times.

Jason is too distracted to pay much attention to the exhibits, but they are about the Grand Canyon and the Hualapai tribe, which own the museum.

Some girls keep looking over at Piper and Dylan and snickering, one of which happened to be (Y/n)’s partner, Isabel. All the girls were wearing matching jeans and pink tops; Jason presumes that they are the popular clique.

One of them says, “Hey, Piper, does your tribe run this place? Do you get in free if you do a rain dance?”

The other girls laugh; even Piper’s partner Dylan suppresses a smile. (Y/n)’s jaw tightens angrily.

Piper’s snowboarding jacket sleeves hid her hands, but (Y/n) gets the feeling that the brunette is clenching her fists. “My dad’s Cherokee,” Piper says. “Not Hualapai. ‘Course, you’d need a few brain cells to know the difference, Isabel.”

Isabel widens her eyes in mock surprise, turning to (Y/n) and grasping her bicep again. “You wouldn’t let her talk to me like that, would you, hun?” Isabel squeezes the muscle a few times, smirking to herself.

(Y/n) raises an eyebrow, ripping her arm from Isabel’s grasp. “I think Piper can talk to you however she likes.”

The group shuffles on, but the girls keep calling out little comments to Piper.

“Good to be back on the rez?” one of them asks in a sweet voice.

“Dad’s probably too drunk to work,” another says with fake sympathy. “That’s why she turned klepto.”

Piper ignores them, but (Y/n) is ready to punch them herself. She may not remember Piper, or even who she is, but (Y/n) knows she hates mean kids.

. . .

They reach the far end of the exhibit hall, where some big glass doors lead out to a terrace.

“All right, cupcakes,” Coach Hedge announces. “You are about to see the Grand Canyon. Try not to break it. The skywalk can hold the weight of seventy jump jets, so you featherweights should be safe out there. If possible, try to avoid pushing each other over the edge, as that would cause me extra paperwork.”

The coach opens the doors and all the students step outside. The Grand Canyon spreads before them, live and in person. Extending over the edge is a horseshoe-shaped walkway made of glass, so they could see right through it.

Jason has to agree. Despite his amnesia, and his feeling that he doesn’t belong here, he can’t help being impressed.

The canyon is bigger and wider than anyone could appreciate from a picture. The students are so high up that birds circle below their feet. Five hundred feet below, a river snakes along the canyon floor. Banks of storm clouds had moved overhead while they’d been inside, casting shadows like angry faces across the cliffs. As far as Jason can see in any direction, red and gray ravines cut through the desert like some crazy god had taken a knife to it.

Jason gets a piercing pain behind his eyes. Crazy gods . . .Where had he come up with that idea? He feels like he’d gotten close to something important - something he should know about. He also gets the unmistakable feeling that he is in danger.

“You all right?” Leo questions. “You’re not going to throw up over the side, are you? ’Cause I should’ve brought my camera.”

Jason grabs the railing. He is shivering and sweaty, but it has nothing to do with heights. He blinks, and the pain behind his eyes subsides. “I’m fine,” he manages. “Just a headache.”

Thunder rumbles overhead; a cold wind almost knocks Jason sideways.

“This can’t be safe.” Leo squints at the clouds. “Storm’s right over us, but it’s clear all the way around. Weird, huh?”

“All right, cupcakes!” Coach Hedge yells. He frowns at the storm like it bothers him too. “We may have to cut this short, so get to work! Remember, complete sentences!”

The storm rumbles and (Y/n)’s head begins to hurt. Not knowing why she does it, she reaches into the pocket of her jeans and pulls out a ballpoint pen. The cap is blue, and τσουνάμι is engraved on the side in blue writing. (Y/n) doesn’t even take a minute to translate the Greek - Tsunami.

(Y/n)’s gaze follows Jason as he walks across the skywalk. (Y/n) shoves the pen back into her pocket and shoves the worksheet at Isabel, before jogging over to Coach Hedge and Jason, who’d just arrived next to the coach.

“Did you do this?” the coach asks them.

Jason takes a step back. “Do what?”

(Y/n) thinks it sounds as though the coach thought that they had created the thunderstorm.

Coach Hedge glares at them, his beady little eyes glinting under the brim of his cap. “Don’t you two play games with me. What are you two doing here, and why are you messing up my job?”

(Y/n) and Jason exchange glances. “You mean . . . you don’t know us?” Jason asks. “We’re not your students?”

Hedge snorts. “Never seen either of you before today?”

(Y/n) is so relieved she almost wants to cry. At least she isn’t going insane - she wasn’t supposed to be here. “Look, sir. I don’t know how we got here. We both woke up on the bus. All I know is I’m not supposed to be here.”

Jason grunts in agreement.

“Got that right,” Hedge’s gruff voice drops to a murmur, like she is sharing a secret. “One ‘uh you two’ve got a powerful way with the Mist, if you can make all these people think they know you two; but you can’t fool me. I’ve been smelling monster for days now. I knew we had an infiltrator, neither of you smell like a monster. You smell like half-bloods. So - who are you, and where’d you two come from?”

Most of what the coach says doesn’t make sense, but (Y/n) decides to answer honestly. “I don’t know who I am. I don’t have any memories. Y-you’ve got to help me.”

Coach Hedge studies (Y/n)’s face as if he’s trying to read her thoughts; then he studies Jason.

“Great,” Hedge mutters. “You’re being truthful.”

“Of course we are!” Jason replies. “And what was all that about monsters and half-bloods? Are those code words, or something?”

Hedge narrows his eyes. Part of Jason wonders if the guy is just nuts, but the other part knows better.

“Look,” Hedge says, “I don’t know who you are. I just know what you are, and it means trouble. Now I have to protect four of you rather than two. Are you the special package? Is that it?”

“What’re you talking about?” Jason and (Y/n) ask in unison.

Hedge looks over the storm. The clouds are getting thicker and darker, hovering right over the skywalk.

“This morning,” Hedge says, “I got a message from camp. They said an extraction team is on the way. They’re coming to pick up a special package, but they wouldn’t give me details. I thought to myself, Fine. The two I’m watching are pretty powerful, older than most. I know they’re being stalked. I can smell a monster in the group. I figure that’s why the camp is suddenly frantic to pick them up. But then you two pop up out of nowhere. So, are you two the special package?”

The pain behind (Y/n)’s eyes gets worse than ever. Half-bloods. Camp. Monsters. She doesn’t know what Hedge is talking about, but the words give her a massive brain freeze - like her mind is trying to access information that should’ve been there, but isn’t.

(Y/n) stumbles, and Coach Hedge catches her. For a short guy, the coach has hands like steel, (Y/n) thinks. “Whoa, there, cupcake. You say you got no memories, huh? Fine. I’ll just have to watch you guys, too, until the team gets here. We’ll let the director figure things out.”

“What director?” Jason asks. “What camp?”

“Just sit tight. Reinforcements should be here soon. Hopefully nothing happens before -”

Lightning crackles overhead. The wind picks up with a vengeance. Worksheets fly into the Grand Canyon, and the entire bridge shutters. Kids scream, stumbling and grabbing the rails.

“I had to stay something,” Hedge grumbles. He bellows into his megaphone, “Everyone inside! The cow says moo! Off the skywalk!”

“I thought you said this thing was stable!” Jason shouts over the wind.

“Under normal circumstances,” Hedge agrees, “which these aren’t. Come on.”

Word Count: 3227 words

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@p-taryn-dactyl​

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@pink-widows​

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