#like I don’t know why but that was my first thought

[bpmiranda]

hey could I request lumberjack Logan being known as all emo and solitaire at work but one day his gf shows up because he forgot lunch?

My Girl (Logan Howlett)

A/N: fluffy, lumberjack!logan, bubbly!gf, 20+ f!reader, grumpy!logan, suggestive content

When Logan spent most of the day chopping wood and hauling tree trunks, he wasn’t exactly in a chatting mood so the men he worked with didn’t really know much about him. Logan put in the long hours and he’d go home, he wouldn’t ever go to the bar with them, wouldn’t join in on the work gossip. His coworkers only knew two things about him; his name and what car he drove. Sometimes he would be dropped off and they only ever saw the silhouette of whom they could assume was a woman, but Logan never had her get out of the car.

“Who’re you hiding from us, Logan?” They would tease and he’d only smirk to himself, shaking his head as he continued his tasks.

You weren’t a secret, he wasn’t trying to hide you. Logan wanted to keep you safe, to protect you, and above all, keep you to himself. Some of the men didn’t know how to control themselves around pretty women and Logan believed you were the prettiest thing to grace the Earth. He knew he wouldn’t be able stand their ogling eyes on you, their cheap sweet talk making you uncomfortable, so he’d kiss you and tell you he loved you before getting out, he’d tell you to sit in the car as he grabbed his tools, and give you a sly wink as you backed out to head home.

It wasn’t your intention to drive up there without his knowledge, but he had forgotten his lunch and you couldn’t stand the thought of him working those long shifts without something to eat. As you scanned the yard for him among the others who were already taking their lunch break, one of them began to approach you with a small smirk, his eyes roaming over the backside of your jeans. When you spotted Logan, he was already sauntering towards you, the ax resting over his shoulder as you happily bounded over to him, unaware of the man now cowering below Logan’s sharp gaze behind you. “Don’t be mad. You forgot your lunch.” You say against his lips as he brings you into his side with an arm around your waist. You press a hand into his chest and hold tightly onto his lunchbox behind his back as he kisses you with such fervor it makes you dizzy.

It’s his fault he forgot it, left it sitting there on the counter on which he also had you sitting with his head between your thighs. It had been a rushed morning, but if he was going to choose whether to spend what extra time he did have packing his lunch or pleasuring you, he would choose the latter again. “Couldn’t ever be mad at you, baby.” He whispers against your lips, holding you so possessively you feel slightly out of breath. “You should go home now,” He urges and he feels your lips turn into a frown against his mouth which makes him chuckle. “Or would you like to stay with me during lunch?” He asks and you nod. “Just this once.”

The other men in the lumberyard understand why he’s always racing to get home. They understand why there’s no space in his life for work buddies or late night drinks at the bar. Logan’s in love. They see it in the way you two seem to be in your own little world as you sit on the hood of the car, yapping his ear off about the errands you’re going to run and the dinner you’re going to cook while he leans against the hood beside you, eating and listening with a content look in his face. “You don’t have to go through all that trouble, princess.” He tells you as he’s packing up his lunchbox.

“Well then, what will we have for dinner?” You tease as he moves to stand in front of you, leaning into you so he can kiss you softly, his hands firmly planted on the hood as you caress his bearded jaw.

“I was hoping for a dessert first type of evening.” He whispers, making your face grow warm as he mumbles into your neck, “Let me take you out for dinner.”

The idea of a night out so you can have a relaxing night in is quite appealing and you hum as his lips move to your collarbone. “What should I do until you get home then?” You ask, sighing as he bites your earlobe gently.

“Wait for me in bed.” He whispers, one of his hands smoothed down your back and he pulls you into him, pressing your chest into his own. “You don’t have to do anything else for me today, sweetheart.”

Logan was secluded, he wasn’t big on having drinking buddies, and there wasn’t much that he wanted in terms of things. With you, however, Logan was kind and doting and all he wanted was to keep you happy and satisfied, you were all that mattered. You were his little piece of heaven on Earth and he wasn’t going to allow anything to soil what you two shared, not in this lifetime.

🏷️: @dontfeedthebigbadwolf @peterparkernotfound @httpsells @evasmlp @ayatotiddies @thatlittlered @seasonofthenerd @littlemisscantloveyouback @scorpiosaintt @simpingfor-wakasa @spencerswh0r3 @thatweirdtheaternerd12 @shybluebirdninja @iamburdened

[luveline]

Hotch’s little sister x Spencer, they gang up on her about her safety or health or something, and she’s like “I’m happy you’re getting along, but don’t love getting ganged up on” 😂

You thought that when things between Spencer and Aaron finally became less awkward again, things would be easier. It was never your intention to drive a wedge between them, but perhaps it’s not your fault. 

After all, Spencer’s the one who chose to date his boss’s younger sister. That was his idea. 

Of course, you ate up his flirting and agreed to all your dates, but still. Spencer’s fault for sure. So why are you in trouble? 

“Honey, I’m honestly a little surprised with you.” Aaron takes a deep breath. “It was a completely unnecessary course of action.” 

Surprised with you is more apt than he realises. “Wait a second, what?” You’d known you were in for a scolding from his weird text, but you have no idea what he’s talking about. 

“You went for a walk in the city alone at midnight?” Aaron frowns. “Have you learned nothing from me?” 

“How do you know I went for a walk?” 

Aaron raises his eyebrows. You look out of the window of his office and straight into the guilty face of your boyfriend. He has the decency not to look away, at least. “Spencer told you that?” 

“He did.” 

You meet the big, soft, beautiful brown eyes of your lovely boyfriend and quirk a finger at him for him to join you in the office. 

“Don’t start, honey.” 

“Aaron, I’m allowed to go for a walk.” 

“In the city? In the middle of the night?” Aaron gives you another unimpressed eyebrow raise. You glare at him, not fond of being questioned. 

“I had my phone.” 

He pinches his brow. 

“Aaron, what’s up with you? I’m well within my rights to go for a walk. I wanted to clear my head. I didn’t go down any side alleys.” 

“You realise you’re being defensive with me because you know it was a silly thing to do.” 

You bristle. The door opens and honestly seeing Spencer’s little frown makes you more annoyed than you had been. “Spencer, why would you tell him my business?” 

“It came up in conversation?” he tries. 

“Spencer.” 

“I was concerned! You can’t just walk around at night in the city by yourself! Who knows what could’ve happened to you, and Hotch agrees with me, it’s too dangerous…” He bites his lip. “I didn’t mean to tattle, and I don’t want to tell you what you can or can’t do.” 

“But I can,” Aaron says. “We all know you’re aware of the danger you put yourself in. Please, don’t do it again.” 

“I feel like I just went back in time a hundred years,” you say. 

“It’s an antiquated attitude, but it’s, you know, grounded firmly in reality,” Spencer says, and you’re surprised to find he isn’t shying away from you now. “It’s reckless. I don’t want to see you get hurt.” 

“It would destroy me,” Aaron says without preamble. “Honey. Please, you can’t do that again, especially without telling someone where you’re going. What if somebody hurt you?” 

You pause to digest what he’s saying. He’d profiled you correctly before —you’re defensive because you already knew you were taking a risk, and you knew if he found out this is how he would react. You hadn’t suspected Spencer would rat you out, but it’s not like he’d been very happy when he learned about it for the first time either. 

“Is this how it’s going to be?” you ask. “You’re going to gang up on me whenever I do something stupid.” 

Aaron’s smile is forgiving and a little bit sorry, too, “I didn’t say stupid, did I?” 

“Reckless,” Spencer supplies. 

“Well. At least you’re both getting along again.” 

“That’s yet to be seen,” Aaron says quickly. 

You wave a hand at Aaron in the universal sign for shut up and turn your full attention to Spencer where he’s laughing in the doorway. You push him out by the chest, not bothering to wait for the office door to close before you start in on him. “That was confidential information, Spencer Reid, which you were privy to as a boyfriend, and not my brother's colleague and conspirator.” 

“I’m sorry.” He smiles, and he’s sincere. “I just knew you’d listen to him.” 

Ugh. Stupid profilers. “Sure, I’ve listened. Now I’m extremely upset and in need of lunch.” 

“Where do you wanna go? I’ll buy,” Spencer says immediately. 

That’s more like it. 

[sheyfu]

yappologist degree holder ༊*·˚

𝗧𝗛𝗘𝗜𝗥 𝗩𝗢𝗜𝗖𝗘𝗟𝗜𝗡𝗘𝗦 about you.

feat. dan heng, aventurine, luocha, jing yuan, gepard, jiaoqiu, argenti and moze (gn!reader)

cw. ooc (very); jiaoqiu talks a lot; [slight] sexual innuendos

note. TRYING SOMETHING NEW GRAHHHHHH i dont think i captured their personalities correctly but 🙏🙏 WE BALL LAMSDOASDI i hope you guys enjoy it >:DD reader is identified as [name] and uses they/them prns (GANG I TRIED MY BEST LAMSDOAMSD) if you see me use fem prns in this piece please tell me <3 lmk if you'd like a pt. 2 w other chars (WOMEN ASHDUASHDUH)

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ DAN HENG

about [name] [name]? what about them?

chat: significant other  [name] is my significant other. aside from the express, they’re one of the only ones keeping me grounded whenever i become… “emo”. their words, not mine.

chat: sleep sleep is something i found hard to come by; everytime i closed my eyes, visions of my past appeared. but now that [name] is by my side, it has become easier to fall to a peaceful rest.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ AVENTURINE

about [name] through a game of life or death is how [name] and i met. hm? unconventional you say? well, it’s one of the reasons why i fell for them.

chat: bet betting has become an integral part of [name] and i’s life. while it’s not a common way of expressing your love for someone, it’s how we do things. whether those bets entail having to have the other run errands or even give your own life up, it sends spikes of adrenaline up our bones resulting in a very fun game of cat and mouse.

chat: loss there are seldom games i lose — and most of the time, i still somehow come out as, partially, a winner. but for some reason, whenever i offer a game of chance against [name], i seem to lose every game we have. i can’t lie, i get somewhat annoyed at how i can’t seem to win a game against them. but then again, life would be dull if it were just an unending series of wins.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ LUOCHA

about [name] [name] is a travelling merchant i’ve come to know over the past years of my journeys as one myself. if i didn't have anyone to rely on before, i've got my dearest to thank now. 

chat: bargain as a merchant, it is important for me to know how to bargain, especially when deals presented to me are severely unfair for me. i must admit, i wasn’t very good at striking fair deals when i was starting off my path as a travelling merchant. but over the years, [name] has taught me a lot about this art. by observing their ways of negotiating, i am now able to attain very fair and valuable trades. 

chat: aromatherapy with [name]’s upbringing as an herb specialist, i get to experience their family’s aromatherapy service. with every scent i am presented with, i am able to clear my mind and slip in the embrace of solitude and calm. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ JING YUAN

about [name] [name] is someone who can ease my troubled mind with an embrace; the calm in my storm, the light of my life, and the heart of my soul.

chat: birds when little birds flock to my head, my spouse wonders if im this character called… snow white… *sigh* i am not sure as to who that is due to my upbringing as a military leader — i had no time for these trivial tales. but whenever they tell tales about this... gizney? no.. bizney? not quite right either.. ah yes, disney princess, the intent of me being dressed with robes of royalty are reflected in their eyes.

chat: mimi what was once a kitten, has now grown into a ferocious little lion. i remember when i first got her, [name] was all over the poor thing — smothering it with their love and words of praise — mimi didn’t complain though, she let herself get spoiled. and even up until now, she’s still that same, little spoiled lion she is. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ GEPARD

about [name] [name] is my significant other – how i was able to catch their eye? i don’t know. sometimes, i doubt my ability to love, especially with my role as the captain of the silvermane guards. but whenever those thoughts appear in my mind, [name] is there to quell my uneasy mind.

chat: family the way [name] treats lynx makes me feel… funny. i can’t really describe it but my heart beats whenever they entertain my little sister. oh, and don’t even get me started with how serval treats them. *sigh* what should i do to ease this beating heart of mine?

chat: de-stress ways on how to de-stress? well, after a long day i am usually greeted with the embrace of my beloved once i step into our abode… then after that i’m littered with- o-oh.. apologies. i was supposed to give advice. let’s start over again, shall we?

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ JIAOQIU

about [name] [name]? you want to now about them? well you see, as general feixiao’s doctor, it is important for me to have assistants whenever patients visit the clinic in a time when i am tending to duties involving her – this is where my dear [name] comes in. they’ve been with me from the start; us being classmates in the medicinal school we attended and all that. they’re easily one of the very dearest people in my life. most people only know them as my assistant due to their preference of upholding a “low-profile”; of course, i am very much alright with it. but when time comes and they’re ready to reveal our bond to the world, i’ll be the happiest man in the whole entire cosmos.

chat: sweets  oh? you liked the sweets i gave you? well, you have my dear [name] to thank. they’re quite the connoisseur when it comes to making them. speaking of sweets, i forgot to mention we have a pastry shop in aurum alley. if you’re able to drop by, i’ll consider giving you a bundle of sweets, and probably other pastries, free of charge.

chat: coriander whatever you do, please do not hand me a bunch of coriander. i will absolutely lose my mind having to deal with a coriander-obsessed lover. 

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ ARGENTI

about [name] my love for [name] transcends even the distant stars of the cosmos. my heart, my soul, and my own being belong to them. 

chat: roses roses are my beloved’s favourite flowers, as they are mine. every morning, i wake from my peaceful slumber to see my dear tending to the beds of flowers with a gentle smile on their face that makes me fall in love all over again. *sigh* i miss them so much, trailblazer.. please bring me back to my ship. i would like to sink into my lover’s embrace at this moment. 

chat: baking my beloved takes time to make my preference for thick baguettes each and every morning. while it warms me to receive such a valuable gift, i am not sure if i am deserving of their unconditional love for i am just a mere knight of beauty, idiotically searching for the goddess i’ve devoted myself to.

˚ ༘♡ ⋆｡˚ MOZE

about [name] i am [name]’s lover. i am bound to them by fate and affection which is why you shouldn’t come close to them — unless you’d like to request an audience with the weapon in my hand.

chat: shadow [name] gets frightened whenever i appear randomly — jiaoqiu tells me it’s a normal reaction as he too, gets startled whenever i show my face to him. although.. im not quite sure how my sudden appearance has them stunned...

chat: cleaning [name] and i share the same hobby of cleaning. whenever i am relieved of my duties assigned by the general, i watch them- no. they tell me of the rather… unconventional ways of cleaning our abode.

tagging: @ayrastv, @whatisnerotypical, @lia-loves

🐈‍⬛: thank you for reading! reblogs, comments, and likes are very much appreciated!

if you'd like to be part of my taglist, please access the gform below! thank you and hope to see you <3

© sheyfu on tumblr

[heart-eyed-love]

Your Stupid Little Fucker

Summary | Eddie teases you about a said stuffed animals that turns out you don't have anymore and he takes that to heart.

Contains | Fem!Reader, Friends-to- Lovers (eventually), Cursing…

Word Count | 1.3k

An | Soooo, I kinda want to make series of oneshots and drabbles and what not for a bestfriend!eddie and bestfriend!reader, so i think this will be my first installment of that… and i’ll write stuff for the timeline that will be put out, out of order but i’ll make a masterlist so everything can be ordered correctly @_@ (which is also heavily inspired by the way wheels-of-despair sets up her amazing evil woman series)

“And you still sleep with it?” Jeff laughs as he questions Gareth, whose face only seems to be getting redder. But you’re not sure whether it’s from embarrassment or building anger.

“No, I don’t sleep with it, Asshole.” Gareth glares over at the boy, “Just because I still have it doesn’t mean I sleep with it.” 

“Then why do you still have it?” Grant questions with a grin. As he lifted the stuffed animal off of Gareth's bed as he seemed to inspect it.

Gareth was 100% not enjoying the interrogation on the stuffed rabbit that he had had since he was a baby. If he had known that everyone would have ended up in his room after band practice he would’ve hidden the ratty old thing.

“My mom is making me keep it.” It was a lie, and obvious one at that, but just in time Eddie cut in. Ultimately it wasn’t to benefit Gareth, but rather to put you on the spot.

“Hey, don’t worry about it, man. (Y/n) still sleeps with one too!” He looks over to you with a smirk, teasing tone he knows will piss you off. And he’s proud to be met with a glare already staring back at him.

“No, I don’t.” The other boys giggle, but Gareth feels your pain so he stays quiet.

“So, you don’t still sleep with that stuffed bat?” He eggs you on.

Ah. The stuffed bat. One that Eddie himself had so proudly won for you back in your freshman year. He was pleasantly surprised with himself that night at the fair, an “athletic” game that involved him throwing? And actually successfully knocking down all the pins? Yeah, he was pretty stoked, he was able to pull that off on the first try. If he had missed those with you standing next to him that experience would have been all too humbling.

But no, he had successfully won you a prize. A stuffed bat he picked, and he turned to you with an overly cocky smile for a guy who had gotten lucky with his shots.

But the bat seemed fitting, something he’d selfishly hoped you would see and immediately think of him.

“For me?” You ask with a smirk as he hands the plush over to you.

“Yeah, well I don’t have much use for it…” He’s trying to act all cool about it, but he knows he only even purchased tickets to play that game for you.

“Well, thank you, kind sir.” You smile up at him.

“Yeah, whatever, dork.” He shoves your head playfully and turns away before the slight redness of his cheeks can be noticed by you.

To say the least, that night was a night both of you remembered fondly. One of your favorite memories is Eddie gifting you that stuffed bat, and now he’s using it to try to embarrass you?

“No, I actually don’t, Eddie. I got rid of that thing.” Lie, big lie. It currently sat smack dap next to the pillow you slept on but you weren’t going to admit that. It probably wasn’t the best thing to lie about but right now, you didn’t care, he was trying to embarrass you and you weren’t going to let him get the satisfaction.

But why should you be embarrassed? Is it weird that you kept it after all this time? Is it weird that you feel so attached to it because Eddie gave it to you?

But in the slight blinded anger you felt, the fall of Eddie’s cheeky, teasing attitude had gone unnoticed by you. 

“You got rid of it?”

“Yeah, kinda just outgrew it I guess.” He watches you shrug like it’s nothing, like he had won that thing especially for you.

And truthfully, as Eddie thought back to it he couldn’t actually recall if it had been in your room the last time he went in there, he really just couldn’t remember. 

Thankfully for you though, cause yeah, it was still in there then too.

The boys have already moved on to another subject, and Jeff and Grant recklessly went through Gareth's comics as he screeched at them to be careful snatching it away from Grant. You walk past Eddie and over to the boys, taking your own time to look through the piles, trying to forget lying directly to Eddie’s face.

He stood moderately frozen at the news you just broke to him, but he pulled himself out of it and rejoins the groups, staying rather quiet as he went through the comics.

Staying way quieter than Eddie normally would all the way until pulling back up to your house that evening. And you finally crack…

“What’s wrong?” You asked with a brow raised in confusion as you looked over at the boy. 

“Nothing, wrong. Why would something be wrong?”

“Cause you’re barely talking… and while I do love this peace and quiet…” you tease but to no avail, “it’s not like you…”

“Did you actually get rid of it?” He turns to you suddenly, and you’re partially surprised by the harsh tone.

“What?” You know exactly what but you don’t know how to get into this right now.

“Did you actually get rid of it? Like did you give it away or did you just throw it in the garage or something?” His tone becomes more annoyed by the second, and you actually fear you might have made him mad. Which wasn't what you had even wanted in the first place, you just wanted him off your back.

“I never said-“ But he’s quick to cut you off.

“Because honestly it’s kinda shitty if you did either way.”

Now you’re rolling your eyes and he’s widening his. Why don’t you care about this?

Why isn’t he letting you speak? Instead of even trying to explain you just slide out of the van as Eddie watches with furrowed brows. 

Were you actually walking away from him right now?

“Are you coming?” You ask over your shoulder as you approach your front door, and you stand there as you watch Eddie scrambling to turn his van off and hop out to meet you at the door.

You both walk to your bedroom silently, and Eddie trails behind you kind of confused but ultimately letting this play out. And as you open your bedroom door you walk a few feet in and you point to the soft plush sitting next to your pillow.

“Where it literally sits every single time you come over, where it sits every single day. I don’t know how you actually believed me.”

“Why did you lie…?” He asks softly.

“Cause you were obviously trying to embarrass me for still having it.”

“What? No! I was just messing around, I wasn’t trying to make you feel bad about it, (Y/n)…” He tries to defend, “Sorry… I’m glad you still have it, relieved actually.”

“Yeah, Well no shit, I thought you were about to start crying in the van…” You tease, lightening the moment.

“I was not about to cry.” He glares, “It’d just be pretty rude, considering I almost threw my back out trying to win that stupid thing for you.”

“Almost threw your back out?!” You cackle out at his dramatics, “Eddie, the pins weren’t even 10 feet away from you.”

“Yeah, I put my athletic abilities to the test for you and this is the thanks I get?” You pull fingers into quotes as he mentions his athletic abilities, and he rolls his eyes at you.

“You did all that just for me?” You tease with a smirk, “You really won that for me?” 

“Yeah, whatever. Thought it would be nice.” He rolls his eyes again and plops onto your bed, purposely knocking the stuffed bat off your bed, causing you to let out an audible gasp.

“Oh my Gosh, you did not just do that!” You screech as you dramatically pick him up and cradle him to your chest with faux shock.

“What? That stupid fuckers causing a lot of drama.” He smiles playfully.

“Yeah, well, he’s my stupid fucker.” You say setting the bat back down in its rightful spot. Smiling down at Eddie as you do.

And he can’t help but smile back. 

God, he hopes he can be your stupid fucker too.

[itneverendshere]

saw that jj is readers neighbor. and i see rafe absolutely hating him, until he realizes that you take care of him like he’s your baby brother, especially when things get a little rough at his house

omg yesssss! it's kinda funny that he's beefing with a teenager. thank you for the request! 🩵🫂 alsojj never met milo before bc he only showed up after the kid was already sleeping, cause luke had a tendency to get rowdier at night 😣.

you're on your own kid - r.c

pairing: rafe x pogue!reader (bartender!reader universe)

There’s no way in hell JJ Maybank is sitting on your couch while you’re cooking away. 

Rafe swears he’s lost his mind. Maybe he hit his head harder than he thought when he was out on the boat earlier because what he’s seeing doesn’t make any sense.

There’s no way JJ is sitting there, his legs propped up on your coffee table like he owns the place. Like he belongs here. In your place. Your sister's place.

For a second, he thinks he’s gotta be dreaming. But nope, it’s real. The smell of whatever you’re cooking from the kitchen hits him in the face, and JJ’s laughter echoes through the living room.

This is your house, your space, and somehow JJ’s sitting there like he’s been here a thousand times before. He’s gotta say something.

Rafe clears his throat, trying to keep his voice normal but it comes out tight, strained. “What the hell’s Maybank doing here?”

You don’t even look up from the stove, just wave a hand in his direction, like it’s no big deal.

Like he’s no big deal. “Relax, baby. He’s just having dinner.”

“Dinner?” Rafe practically chokes on the word.

JJ catches the look on his face and smirks, leaning back further into the couch cushions.

“What, never seen a guy eat before, Cameron?”

Rafe scoffs, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “Dinner? At your place? Since when are you and Maybank this close?”

His eyes narrow on JJ, sprawled out on the couch like he’s got nowhere better to be. The guy’s even wearing his boots, dirt probably all over your cushions, and Rafe’s practically grinding his teeth at the sight.

JJ just smirks, because of course he does. “Jealous or somethin’, Cameron? Didn’t think you’d care.”

But then you walk over with a plate and set it down in front of JJ, and Rafe watches in shock as you ruffle his hair, so casually it’s like second nature to you.

Like you’ve done it a hundred times before.

JJ’s eating like it’s the first meal he’s had in days, and Rafe’s brain is still trying to catch up with what the hell is happening here.

You and JJ? Since when? Rafe’s stomach twists at the thought, because why would you even care about a guy like JJ? 

The guy’s got that scruffy look, bruises on his knuckles and faint ones on his arms. Rafe’s seen it before, the evidence of fights and bad nights. He knows what goes on at JJ’s house. He’s heard the stories. The arguments that spill out onto the streets late at night, the way JJ disappears for a while and comes back worse than before.

And then it hits him.

You’re not just letting him crash here.

You’re taking care of him. Looking out for him in ways that nobody else does, making sure he doesn’t completely spiral with a father like Luke Maybank.

JJ speaks up, grinning with his mouth full of food. “Her food’s so good, you gotta try it.”

“I’m her boyfriend, you think I haven’t tried her cooking?”

He’s being ridiculous, knows he’s not really jealous of a seventeen-year-old. It’s not that he’s threatened by JJ—hell no. It’s more that...he doesn’t like sharing you. Even if it’s just dinner.

He’s proud of you, though. Always has been. That big heart of yours, helping out some kid who clearly needs it.

Rafe crosses his arms, leaning against the doorway. “Since when did my girl become a goddamn soup kitchen?” The words come out harsher than he means them to, but you just glance over your shoulder and roll your eyes.

You know him too well by now.

“Baby, it’s just dinner. JJ’s had a rough day.”

“Yeah, well, so have I,” Rafe mutters under his breath, but he doesn’t push it. He can’t really. 

He knows the guys has been through it, and yeah, his dad’s a piece of work. But that doesn’t make it easier to see him sitting here, all cozy in the life Rafe’s tried to build with you. Yeah, maybe you fucking spoiled him because know the mere thought of another guy being in your space makes his blood boil. 

JJ wipes his mouth with the back of his hand, “Chill, Cameron. You’re acting like I’m movin’ in or something.”

He remembers being that kid—lost, angry, with no place to feel safe. JJ might be annoying as fuck, a walking nightmare to be around, but Rafe can’t hate him for that. Not really.

“Yeah, well, don’t get too comfortable,” Rafe mutters. He looks at you, softening. “You’ve got a heart too big for your own good, y'know that?”

“I thought you loved that about me?” You tease, turning back to the stove.

“’Course I do.” Rafe crosses the room, sitting on the arm of the couch, close enough to you but still keeping an eye on JJ. He watches as you stir something on the stove, a soft smile pulling at the corner of his mouth despite everything. Yeah, he gets annoyed, but fuck if he doesn’t love you for exactly this. You just have a way of making people feel safe, even the ones that don’t deserve it—or maybe need it most.

JJ leans back, letting out a satisfied groan. "God, that was good. She ever cook like this for you, Cameron?"

Rafe shoots him a look, eyebrows raised. "Yeah, maybe when you’re not eating all my food."

JJ just laughs, completely unfazed. “You’re lucky, man.”

Rafe doesn't answer, just stares at him, half of him wanting to tell him to get out and the other half knowing how good it must feel for the kid to have a moment where he doesn’t have to worry about anything. Rafe’s been there—different situation, same lost feeling. He looks at you again, knowing it’s you that pulled him out of that place. And now here you are, doing the same thing for JJ.

With a sigh, he slides off the couch and walks over to you, wrapping his arms around your waist from behind. “You know you’re too good for him, right?”

You laugh, leaning back into him. “For him? Or for you?”

Rafe presses a kiss to your shoulder, smiling despite himself. “Both. Definitely both.”

His lips linger there for another second before JJ’s speaking again, “Alright, y’all don’t have to be disgusting while I’m sitting here trying to digest. Seriously, have some respect. I’m a guest.”

Rafe’s jaw tightens, but he can’t help but laugh under his breath, his forehead dropping against your back. “You gotta be kidding me.” He sighs dramatically, loosening his grip on you and stepping back, but he’s still got that smirk. “You hear that, baby? We’re offending the guest. Can’t have that.”

JJ rolls his eyes so hard Rafe’s sure he’s gonna get stuck that way. “Yeah, you two keep it up, and I’m gonna lose this amazing meal you just made. Not trying to see all that lovey-dovey shit.”

Rafe leans against the counter, arms crossed, shaking his head. “You know, most people would be grateful for a free dinner.”

You toss a dish towel at JJ, which he dodges with a snicker. “You’re welcome to leave, you know.”

“Nah, nah,” JJ says quickly, stuffing the bread in his mouth. “I’m good right here.”  He stretches out again, clearly getting way too comfortable. “But if y’all could just tone down the romance while I’m around, that’d be great.”

Rafe’s still grinning, even though part of him wants to wipe that smirk right off JJ’s face. “You jealous, Maybank?”

JJ gives an exaggerated shrug. “Nah. I got my priorities straight.”

“Yeah? Like what? Getting on my last fucking nerve?” Rafe shoots back.

JJ lifts his hands in surrender, still grinning like a kid who knows exactly how make him lose his temper. “Hey, I’m just saying. Don’t go making me regret this free meal, alright?”

He glances over at you, and you’re shaking your head, smiling like this whole thing is the most entertaining show you’ve seen all week.

“Yeah, well, don’t get used to it,” Rafe mutters, still eyeing JJ. “This is a one-time thing.”

JJ chuckles, unfazed. “Whatever helps you sleep at night. Just remember, I’m your girl’s favorite.” He flashes you a wink, and Rafe’s this close to tossing the bread basket at his head and tossing him out on the street.

JJ’s annoying, no doubt, but he understand, or at least he's trying to, that you’re doing it for a reason—helping the kid out, making sure he’s got a safe place for at least one night. And no matter how much he pisses him off, Rafe respects that. For your sake.

“You keep running your mouth and you’re both sleeping porch.”

Rafe turns to you, offended, “The fuck did I do?”

“You know exactly what you did,” you say, shaking your head. “Always making things competitive.”

Rafe scoffs, standing a little straighter.

“Competitive? Baby, I’m just protecting what’s mine.” He throws a glance at JJ, who’s still lounging on the couch like he owns the place.

“Man, protectin’ what?” JJ pipes up, laughing through his words. “I’m just here for the food and the show.” He gestures between the two of you. “Y’all could make a fortune if you charged admission. People love drama.”

Rafe rolls his eyes. “You’re lucky they’re not charging you rent at this point.”

He’s about to tell him to shove off the couch and leave, but the front door swings open. Monica walks in arms full of grocery bags. Little Milo is trailing behind her, clutching a stuffed dinosaur in one hand and a juice box in the other. The moment he sees Rafe, his face lights up.

“Uncle Rafey!” Milo yells, charging toward him with all the energy of a four-year-old hyped up on apple juice.

He bends down and scoops Milo up, setting him on his hip. “Hey kid. What’s up?”

Milo grins and holds up his juice box. “I got juice!”

Rafe chuckles, “Juice, huh? Sounds like a big day.”

Meanwhile, Monica’s busy setting the groceries on the counter, glancing at JJ sprawled out on the couch. She shoots Rafe a look, half-exasperated, half-amused. “Looks like we have an extra child in the house today.”

JJ, clearly not catching the jab, raises a hand. “Hey, Monica. I’m just keeping the couch warm.”

Milo tugs on Rafe’s shirt, completely oblivious to the grown-up talk. “Uncle Rafe, can I have a cookie?”

“Maybe after dinner, bud,” Rafe says, setting him down gently. “Go help your mom, okay?”

Milo pouts for a second but quickly gets distracted by the sight of JJ. He stares at him curiously, tilting his head. “Who’s that?”

JJ leans over the back of the couch, grinning. “I’m JJ. You can call me… your favorite new friend.”

Milo looks at him like he’s deciding if JJ is cool or just weird. After a second, he grins back. “Okay, JJ. Can I sit with you?”

“Sure, kid. Hop on up.”

Rafe watches as Milo clambers onto the couch next to JJ, giggling when JJ pretends to steal his dinosaur. It’s almost funny—if he wasn’t so good at making himself at home.

Monica, catching the scene, sighs and shakes her head. “Great, now he’s corrupted Milo.”

Rafe crosses his arms, unable to suppress a smirk. “He’s already got enough bad influences in his life.”

She raises an unimpressed eyebrow. “Yeah, starting with you.”

Rafe raises his hands in surrender, laughing. “Fair enough.”

You’re leaning against the counter, watching the whole scene unfold, and suddenly, it just hits you.

Rafe with Milo, the way he softens when your nephew runs up to him, lifting him like it’s the easiest thing in the world. Milo’s giggles fill the room and then there’s Monica, half-smiling at Rafe’s attempts to wrangle Milo, even with JJ sprawled out on the couch, egging the kid on.

Your heart feels so full, you almost can’t stand it. It’s one of those moments where everything just… clicks. You try to keep it together, but there’s this warm feeling in your chest, and you blink back the unexpected tears. How could you feel anything but love for all of them in this moment? 

Rafe catches you staring, his eyes softening when he sees the look on your face. He raises an eyebrow, but he’s already smiling at you, “What’s that look for?”

You shake your head, grinning despite the lump in your throat. “Nothing. Just... you guys. It’s... a lot.”

JJ, ever the clown, groans from the couch, “Oh God, please don’t get all mushy now."

But you can’t help it. You step closer to Rafe, wrapping your arms around his waist, laying your head against his chest. “I just love you. All of you.”

Rafe chuckles softly, kissing the top of your head. “Love you too.”

Monica glances over with a knowing look, shaking her head. “Alright, enough of this sentimental stuff. You’re gonna make me cry, and I just got home.”

You stay wrapped in Rafe’s arms for a moment, just soaking in the warmth around you. Monica’s pulling plates from the cabinet, setting them on the table with her usual no-nonsense efficiency. JJ’s somehow got Milo giggling uncontrollably, making goofy faces and pretending to steal his dinosaur every few seconds. The kid’s losing it, practically bouncing off the couch in fits of laughter.

Rafe leans down, his lips close to your ear. “You’re okay?” he murmurs against your hair.

You smile, nodding against his chest. “Yeah. Better than good, actually.”

He pulls back slightly to look at you, his blue eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to read every thought behind it. “You sure? You looked like you were about to cry a second ago.”

You laugh a little, wiping under your eye, even though the tears never really fell. “It’s just... this. All of this. It’s perfect, you know? I don’t know. It feels like family.”

“You really think so?” Rafe asks quietly.

You nod, feeling that same warmth flood your chest again. “Yeah, I do. I love it. I love us.”

He smiles, a little crooked but real, the kind of smile you don’t see too often, but when you do, it hits you in the heart. “I love us too.”

For a second, the noise around you fades, and it’s just you and Rafe, holding onto each other like you’re the only two people in the room.

Then, predictably, JJ ruins it. “Hey, lovebirds! Save that for later. You’re killing Milo’s vibe.”

You both turn to see JJ standing with his hands on his hips, looking dramatic as ever. Milo’s grinning, clutching his dinosaur to his chest like it’s his new best friend. 

“Yeah, stop kissin'!” Milo chimes in, giggling.

You rolls your eyes but pull away from Rafe with a chuckle. “Alright, alright. No more kissing.”

Monica smirks as she finishes setting the last plate. “Don’t worry, Milo. They’ll be gross later when you’re in bed.”

Rafe gives your sister a mock glare. “You’re hilarious.”

She pats him on the back, grinning. “It’s what I’m here for.”

[snowballseal]

How they react to you having a lot of tattoos

LaDS X Reader

Anon Request: I was curious if you would be willing to write the boys reacting to a partner with a lot of tattoos? I feel like MC is pretty covered up and as someone with full sleeves and a large back piece, it’s always interesting to see how people react to seeing them.

Note: Y’all killing me with these fun requests 🥺 I love this. I only have a few minimalist tattoos, but I want MORE. Thank you for the lovely request, anon. The scenarios were fun to think of.

Word Count: who’s to say 🤷about 1000 each

---

Rafayel

The first time Rafayel sees your tattoos is when you go on a date to the beach. You’re not even thinking about it as you change in the bathroom. When you decided to become a hunter, you knew you would have to cover up your tattoos. The policy, while being outdated in your mind, isn’t all that bothersome since you prefer to wear long sleeves anyways.

So it never occurred to you that Rafayel had never seen the full expanse of the ink on your body.

Which is why, when you step out and his eyes go impossibly wide as he looks at you, mouth dropping open, you’re first and foremost confused.

“What?” 

Wrapping your arms around yourself, you feel an inkling of insecurity curl in your chest as you look down at your two-piece. It’s nothing immodest, just a blue bikini that you thought was cute and also met your standards for support. It’s a little frilly, but a part of you thought he’d love that. 

“Do you not like it? I don’t uh, I don’t have anything else to wear…” Your voice comes out uncharacteristically meek.

That seems to snap Rafayel out of his daze. The artist shakes his head, the tips of his ears going positively red, as he still can’t rip his eyes from the lines decorating your skin. He reaches out, tracing the gentle petals of a flower on your waist.

“How come you’ve never shown me these, cutie?” He asks, voice touched with awe.

Oh. Heat creeps up your neck. So that’s what he was on about. You glance down at your body. You suppose it is a little jarring. It’s not like you’re covered head to toe, but you’re definitely a well covered canvas. Both of your arms have partial sleeves that curl up around your shoulders and continue along your collarbone. A large collection of flowers adorns the right side of your waist, traveling down your hip and turning into a pattern of vines down your leg. You have a few other ones, some silly, some heavy with meaning.

“Sometimes I forget I have them,” you admit a bit bashfully. Rafayel gives a low hum and your breath catches as his fingers continue to trace the lines on your waist, his touch warm and ticklish. “I’ve had some of them since before I started training.”

“I have to say, I’m a bit jealous that another artist has touched your body,” he murmurs, voice dropping to something low. His hand slips around your waist, drawing you closer so he can trace his lips over the intricate ink on your collar bone, ocean eyes glinting up at you with something possessive yet overflowing with adoration. “But even I have to admit this is beautiful work. Befitting my queen.”

Your cheeks go warm. As red at the tips of his ears. There’s something so reverent about his touch and it makes your heart flutter wildly, but you’re all too keenly aware that you’re still in public.

Not that it stops you from poking the fish.

“Would it make you feel better to know my newest one is for you?” You ask, reaching to touch his cheek with a teasing smile.

Rafayel’s face lights up. He draws back immediately, looking over your tattoos like an eager child until he spots the fresher ink on your left leg. You stifle a giggle as he drops to his knees, fingers curling around your ankle to pull your leg off the ground so he can get a better look. 

“Rafayel!” You bark out a laugh, balance stolen away. It forces you to lean on him just so you don’t fall over. “Geez, I could have just sat down, you know!”

“This is for me?” Rafayel, oblivious to your complaints, grazes his fingertips tenderly along your skin.

Shaking your head, you give his hair a playful fuss, “Yes, you impatient fish. It’s not done yet, but it’s about us.”

It’s the beginnings of an ocean scene. A beach circles right above your ankle, depicting the silhouettes of two younger kids, their hands clasped in a promise. As the ink continues up your leg, it transforms into what looks like a night sky, but instead it’s water, swirling lines of blue and purple, full of schooling fish, one in particular standing out, bright red among the cool tones. A familiar symbol. And on the back of your calf swims a graceful looking figure, reaching for the light, edges blurred between fish and man and water.

A lump forms in Rafayel’s throat as he touches the red fish, a familiar warmths spreading across his chest as the same symbol glows faintly. Seeing it on you fills him with an emotion he can’t quite explain.

“You do realize what this means, right?” Those ocean eyes flicker up to you. They glint like dark pearls, iridescent and beautiful, yet carry a depth of emotion that makes your breath catch.

“I do,” you answer unwaveringly.

Rafayel’s lips pull into a small smile. He never expected someone to do something like this for him. Though, of course you would. And it’s beautiful.

“It’s a stunning piece,” he murmurs eventually, leaning forward to press a kiss to your knee, right above the ink, his hair tickling your thigh, “Though I still think the canvas is the most beautiful thing of all.”

A snort escapes you and you bite your lip, heat rushing back to your cheeks, “You’re ridiculously corny, Rafayel.”

“I know.” His smile shifts into a wolfish grin as he stands up, scooping you into a hug. You squeal as he spins you around, holding on tightly despite knowing he’d never drop you. It’s only when you’re positively red that he stops, his mirthful eyes watching your face. “It’s worth it if I get to see this face. I swear, cutie, if you do more things like this, I might become unbearable.”

“You never could,” you giggle and loop your arms around his neck, “Though, I was thinking maybe next time, you could come with me?”

Rafayel raises an eyebrow, “Oh? You want to get matching tattoos? I’ll admit, I’ve never considered it…but if it’s with you, I can’t think of anything more fitting.”

“You’ll have to design it, of course,” you hum, tone turning a little more excited, “Oh, I can’t wait! It’ll be so fun! We can do it the next time I take a break, and after swimming season, obviously.”

Leaning in, Rafayel gives you a short kiss, laughing against your lips, “Anything you want, my lady. As long as it’s with you, I’ll enjoy every minute of it.”

---

Zayne

The first time Zayne sees your tattoos is when you reunite at Akso. You’re not sure how long it’s been, having only seen him every so often at Grandma Josephine’s for dinner. All you know is that he’s been busy, and is now one of the most remarkable young doctors in Linkon.

And also your new primary care physician.

“Knock knock.” 

You rasp your knuckles lightly against the door to his office, eyes lingering on the nameplate displayed prominently beside it. A strange sense of pride swells in your chest. To think, your childhood best friend would reach such heights.

“Come in,” Zayne calls, voice as aloof as ever.

You slip into his office and let the door shut behind you. The doctor sits at his desk, flicking through a file on his tablet. You hesitate on the edge of his peripherals, not sure exactly what to do or how to act. It’s been a long time since you two have been truly close, not since- But you’ve missed him.

A lot.

“My apologies, my previous surgery ran longer than expected so I am still collecting your records.” You blink, his voice drawing you back out of your thoughts. “You may take a seat if you’d like.”

“Okay.”

Maybe you’re the only one who feels weird about it. He seems completely unaffected, like you’re a normal patient, ever the professional. You awkwardly drag a stool a little closer to his desk, just far enough to not seem weird and so it doesn’t feel like you’re looking over his shoulder.

After the silence goes a tick too long, you can’t help but break it, fingers fiddling nervously with your sweater, “How have you been, Doctor Zayne?”

A faint smile ghosts across his lips. You haven’t changed one bit. 

“I’ve been well, thank you for asking. Work has become quite constant, so I’m afraid I haven’t been able to accept many of Josephine’s dinner invitations.” His eyes dart over to you briefly before focusing back on his screen. “You look like you’ve been doing well since we last saw each other.”

“I have,” you chirp, anxiety easing up a bit, “I’m really close to being finished with training and finally joining the Hunters Association. You should try to make it to dinner this week though! Grandma really misses you. She talks about you all the time.” You falter, cheeks warming a little. “...We’re all really proud of you, Zayne.”

Zayne’s fingers freeze against the tablet. An indecipherable look crosses his face, but he schools his features quickly and gives you a small smile.

“Thank you…you both have always been so kind to me,” he murmurs and finally turns to face you, “I’ll try my best to make it to dinner this week.”

Your face lights up, excitement sparking in your eyes. “Okay! I’ll let her know! She’ll probably make all your favorites. They haven’t changed, right?”

Zayne shakes his head, and you can’t help but kick your feet giddily. It’ll be nice to catch up. You have so many questions, and also so many stories to tell from your training days.

“Now that those plans are made, shall we proceed with your exam?”

“Right, right.” You almost forgot that’s what you’re here for. Nerves coming back, you shuffle on top of the stool. “What do you need me to do?”

“First, if you would remove your jacket, I’ll take your blood pressure and listen to your heart,” he instructs, voice settling back into something professional and neutral.

As Zayne turns away to fetch whatever tools he needs, you make quick work of taking your jacket off. The room is a little chillier than you expect. You wrap your arms around yourself to chase away the goosebumps that erupt across your skin. Your eyes stay glued on Zayne though, watching as he pulls a stethoscope and blood pressure monitor from one of his drawers.

“Do you usually do exams in your office?” You ask offhandedly.

“Not usually. As a cardiothoracic surgeon, I don’t often conduct general exams,” he hums, cleaning off the blood pressure cuff with a sterile wipe.

“Am I special or something, then?”

“With the rarity of your protocore syndrome, I thought it would be most effective to handle your care myself, yes. Though if it makes you uncomfortable we can-”

Zayne’s words cut off as he finally looks back at you. Surprise flickers across his face.

You freeze like a deer caught in headlights, though you don’t know why. Is there something on your face? A stain on your tank top? You glance down, finding nothing of the sort.

“What? What is it? Do I have something on me?” Your hands flicker up to your face, but you don’t feel anything.

Zayne blinks and shakes his head as if coming out of a stupor. The lightest blush warms his ears.

“My apologies. I just wasn’t aware you had so many tattoos.”

Oh. Holding out your arms, you look over the expanse of ink on your skin. You guess it’s a lot. It has taken you a few years, but you’ve effectively covered your arms and shoulders in art. Most of it is florals, with small, meaningful symbols or items hidden in the foliage. You also have a few others, though they’re covered by your clothes.

“I guess you wouldn’t have seen them,” you hum thoughtfully, “I wear a lot of long sleeves to Grandma’s dinners. And work requires us to cover them up.”

“They’re quite intricate.” He sets his tools aside, drawing his chair closer to you. His hand reaches for your arm, but pauses, his eyes darting up to yours. “May I?”

“Go for it,” you whisper, feeling a little bashful now that his attention is focused solely on you.

His fingers graze your wrist lightly, as if he’s scared to press too hard. You watch as he silently turns your arm over, taking in every minute detail of your tattoos. He lingers a little longer on the small, anatomical heart at the center of it all, surrounded by gentle jasmines. They’re incredibly well done, even he can see that, and they all look like they were done some time ago.

Something melancholic and sentimental settles in his chest.

“I remember when you were just a little girl, crying over her popsicle…You truly are all grown up now, aren’t you?” His voice is thick with something you can’t quite pinpoint, his touch turning impossibly tender as he traces the lines up your elbow.

Your heart flutters a little too wildly for your likings. “You’re all grown up too, mister chief cardiac surgeon. That’s a lot bigger than some tattoos.”

Another smile pulls at his lips, breaking his impassive facade.

“These have all healed well, though,” Zayne says, a spark of mischief flickering in his eyes as that strange emotion recedes, “You must have taken good care of them, and that alone is an impressive feat for you. That’s how I know you’ve grown up.”

A mock gasp escapes you and you pull your hand away to press it against your chest. If only to break the contact so he doesn’t notice your racing pulse.

“Doctor Zayne, I am deeply offended at your insinuation,” you insist vehemently, “I am a responsible person, soon to be an amazing hunter! I know how to take care of myself.”

“Says the woman who walked on a sprained ankle for a week out of pure stubbornness.”

“How was I supposed to know it was sprained?”

“I told you it was.”

---

Xavier

The first time Xavier sees your tattoos is after a mission that doesn’t go quite right. You come home with a bandage wrapped around your shoulder and chest, and the added instructions to change the gauze once a day. Which, of course, you can’t do yourself.

“Xav?”

Xavier glances up from where he’s sitting in the sun, a book long forgotten in his lap. Those sleepy blue eyes land on you questioning. You shuffle awkwardly in the doorway, a roll of gauze in your hand.

“Would you help me real quick?” You mumble, a soft blush warming your cheeks, “I can’t uh, I can’t change them myself.”

“Of course,” he hums immediately, standing and stretching languidly, much like a cat. “I am at your service, my lady.”

“Thanks,” you sigh, shoulders sagging, which sends a twinge of pain down your arm.

It was a nasty cut. You had been so focused on fighting one wanderer that you hadn’t noticed another smaller one appearing behind you. It was your fault, and thankfully it didn’t hit anything serious, but it was in just the right place to make moving your arm difficult.

Xavier silently leads you back into the kitchen. Taking the bandages from your hand, he pulls out a chair and motions for you to sit. You do so carefully, not wanting to jostle your body too much. The hunter sets the gauze aside and kneels down in front of you, his fingers finding the hem of your sweater and pausing, placid blue eyes turning up to you in question. 

Ever the gentleman.

A tiny smile pulling at your lips, you offer him a small nod. That’s all he needs to pull it off, his hands moving slowly, with the utmost care. Thankfully, the room isn’t too cold, the setting sun pouring through the window and warming the space. The fabric musses your hair as he slips it over your head, and you instinctively reach up to fix it.

Completely missing the way Xavier’s eyes go wide as he looks down at you.

There aren’t a lot of things that catch the hunter off guard. But the ink covering your skin certainly does. Even with the bandages, he can tell it’s expansive, curling around your shoulders, dipping down your upper arms, painting the entirety of your back. It’s reminiscent of Starry Night, hundreds if not thousands of strokes forming delicate lines that follow the natural curves of your body, flowing so beautifully that they practically beg his fingers to trace them.

And as always with you, Xavier has a startling lack of self-control.

You blink at the feeling of his fingers grazing your uninjured shoulder. His touch is so light, you could almost mistake it for a breath. Almost like he’s worried he’ll hurt you.

“Is something wrong?” You ask, voice twinged with concern as you try and twist to look at where his touch lingers against your skin.

“Stay still,” Xavier orders gently, and you freeze, brows arching in confusion. Realizing you're panicking a little, the hunter leans down to press a kiss to your forehead, offering a soft explanation, “You never told me you have so many tattoos. I simply want to appreciate them.”

“Oh.” Your nerves fizzle out, replaced with an embarrassed tinge of excitement. So that’s what this is about. “I forgot I haven’t shown you them yet. I guess I’m so used to them that I forget they’re there, especially since I have to cover them for work.”

Xavier shifts behind you, fingers following the lines over your shoulder. They bleed into a wash of color, dark blue and purple and pink splashes across your back. A small planet of light sits between your shoulder blades, numerous stars dancing around it. His touch lingers on the planet, a flicker of light spilling from his fingers as his evol reacts unprovoked.

“What made you choose this?” He asks, voice wavering imperceptibly. 

“I’m not sure,” you hum, shrugging your good shoulder, “I’ve always liked space. My grandma used to take me to the planetarium a lot when I was young, and I used to have dreams about it, of floating between planets and exploring the stars. I always felt drawn to this one planet, it was so pretty and it looked like it was made of light, but I could never reach it…”

Philos.

Something twinges in Xavier’s chest. How strange. You don’t remember the planet, that’s for certain, yet some part of you was still connected to it. To your home. To him. All this time…

“It’s beautiful,” he all but whispers.

Heat tinges your cheeks. That’s not usually what people say. It’s not for everyone, you know that. It’s a lot of ink, but you dreamt for so long about getting it. Still, most people usually just make offhand comments, not exactly rude, but not exactly compliments either. Like, oh that must have hurt a lot. Or, you must have saved a lot of money, huh?

Never beautiful.

And yet Xavier traces your ink with what almost feels like admiration. It makes your heart flutter with an uncharacteristic shyness, shoulders jolting up to your neck.

That’s when you remember your injury.

Letting out a low hiss, you drop your shoulder quickly as pain sizzles down your arm. Both of you had practically forgotten about it, caught in the moment. Xavier’s brow furrows again, an apology floating past his lips as he draws his fingers away - much to your disappointment.

“It’s okay,” you breathe, offering him a weak smile, “I just pulled it a little funny. We should probably check it, though.”

“Alright, I’ll be gentle,” he murmurs as he reaches for the edge of your bandage.

“...Thanks, by the way.”

You’re not sure what exactly you’re thanking him for. Helping you or his sweet reaction to the art decorating your skin. Maybe both.

And Xavier must know. He leans down, lips ghosting over your shoulder is an adoring kiss.

“Of course, my star.”

---

Sylus

The first time Sylus sees your tattoos is, of course, on the night you attend the auction. There’s no hiding the ink covering your body when you’re wearing a dress, after all. If anything, though, you think they’ll help you fit in a little better in the N109 Zone.

And you love the reaction Sylus gives you when you step out into the foyer.

For the briefest moment, his eyes go wide. Shock, perhaps the rarest emotion you’ve never had the pleasure of seeing on him, flashes behind those carmine eyes. In an instant, it disappears though, hidden with his usual cocky expression, one of his fine brow ticking up in amusement.

“I’ll admit, sweetie,” the man hums, “You’ve surprised me.”

You flash him a cat-like grin, satisfaction burning deep in your veins, and give a little theatrical spin, “Not what you were expecting, huh?”

Hardly a single part of your body remains untouched by ink. Most of the designs are artistic. Flourishing lines twisting and curling around your muscles, strangely reminiscent of the form his evol takes. They form a network of delicate webs across your body, sometimes forming shapes, sometimes with words written along the fine linework. 

It’s hauntingly beautiful. Sylus can’t help but let his eyes slowly rove over your form, taking in every detail. They’re like a map, and his fingers are itching to explore every part of you, to see just how far the ink slips below the hem of the dress. A dress which he bought for you yet can’t be bothered to even notice now, not with such a dazzling sight set before him.

“Who knew the kitten would turn into a tigress at night,” he murmurs, voice going low and teasing as he slowly circles around you, a predatory glint in his eyes.

Your boldness wavers. 

Sylus always seems to have that effect on you. Like a lamb straying from the herd and being found by the wolf. Prey before a predator starved, maw open and hungry, as if he could consume you whole. And all you can do is hold your ground, even if your legs shake, like that little lamb’s.

“Careful, Sylus,” you whisper, trying to appear unshaken by not following him with your eyes, despite the unease you feel not knowing exactly where he is, “This tiger has claws.”

You feel more than hear his presence come up behind you. A shiver traces down your spine when his breath skates over your ear, warm and far too intentional. In the same way, his fingers trace reverently down your arm, following the path of your ink, until they can intertwine with yours and draw your hand up to his lips.

“And that’s how I prefer you.” His voice is low, a mere rumble against your skin as he kisses your knuckles. Another shudder. “After all, it would be a shame to declaw such a beautiful creature. Even if she likes to scratch.”

God, you hate him.

You hate that it takes everything in you to rip yourself away from his enticing warmth. You hate that your heart is racing against your ribs, like it’s trying desperately to escape. And you especially hate the absolutely smug grin that plays on his lips (and the fact that you want to kiss it so badly).

“You’re teasing me,” you breathe unsteadily, putting space between the two of you.

Something dark flashes in his eyes, “Whatever do you mean, sweetie? I was merely giving you a compliment.”

“Then you give weird compliments,” you fire back, arms wrapping around yourself. “It sounds more like you’re making fun of me.”

Sylus pauses. Those ruby red eyes narrow on you thoughtfully, his lips pressing into a thin line. A tick of silence. Then his expression smoothes into something almost soft, and he takes a few measured steps towards you. Long fingers graze your palm again. A question.

And you give in far too easily, not fighting as he intertwines your fingers once again. His other hand skirts along your exposed shoulder, following the lines of your tattoo as they fade at your neck. You’re frozen under the sudden tenderness of his touch, your pulse racing against his fingertips.

“My apologies, kitten. That wasn’t my intention,” he murmurs, eyes boring into yours with an unnerving genuineness, “I simply meant that your tattoos are...befitting of your character. You are truly…” He looks you over once more, his gaze leaving a tantalizing heat in its wake. That dangerous smile curls his lips again. “Captivating.”

You inhale shakily.

No one has said something like that to you before. Not that you can remember, at least. It would sound cheesy from someone else, but from Sylus? The intensity of his tone leaves you feeling as unsteady as your heart. Lightheaded.

All you can do is blink up at him, eyes wide and doe-ish. No smart retort or comeback. Your mouth, in fact, feels remarkably dry. It fills the man with a touch of pride, rendering you so speechless.

Not one to let you stay dumbfounded for too long, though, Sylus lets out a smooth chuckle and taps your chin, “Careful, sweetie. If you look at me like that, I might just think you’re falling for me.”

Which of course works. Because he knows you better than you know yourself.

“I am not!” You squawk, face going up in flames. “You just surprised me, that's all! I didn’t know you were capable of such niceties.”

Sylus grins, drawing away as you swat at his hand, “Then it seems that we’re even.”

You scowl at him. So not fair.

“Now, would you like to accompany me to this auction, sweetheart?” He offers his arm. You keep your pout up for only a few seconds before giving in and slipping your hand around his elbow begrudgingly. Sylus hums in amusement, leaning in to press a ghost of a kiss against your cheek. “Looking like this, you’ll have no trouble getting the results you’ve been searching for, tonight. You’ll be the perfect distraction, my dear.”

“Well then, let’s not keep them waiting, shall we?”

---

Not gonna lie, Sylus' was probably my favorite. In my head I was kind of picturing the tattoos that Anthony Padilla has (from smosh, yes, sue me), and I just think he would totally call you a tiger since he likes calling you kitten.

Hope y'all enjoyed!

I'm really feeling some angst next possibly...

[hyunjins-orange-slice-too]

Hi can I request first time with chan with shy reader? 🥺👉🏼👈🏼

i’ll help you through it, yeah?

pairing: chan x virgin reader

genre: smut, fluff, friends to lovers

word count: ~2.6k

warnings: mutual pining, pet names, protected sex, praise.

authors note: i have this request in my inbox for other members as well, so look out for those in the future. i have so many requests (tysm btw) so it’s taking me a little while to get through them. i’m trying to do the oldest ones first because y’all been waiting so long. - not me blushing while writing this. i wish my first time was this sweet. lol

masterlist

"i’m just sick of it, ya know?" you complained. "i’m sick of feeling like this. like im unwanted and missing out on something."

your best friend looked at you, intently listening, but worry starting to mar his features. "are people being mean to you because you’re a virgin?" you could sense the anger threatening to rise up out of him at the thought of someone being mean to you.

"no. this is just pressure i’m putting on myself at this point. im too old to still be a virgin."

"i don’t think that’s true." chris said. "i thought you were saving yourself for someone you really loved? wasn’t that the point?"

he was right, you had always said that since you and chris were kids. you didn’t want your first time to be some fleeting, gross experience. you wanted it to be sweet and full of love. but, it didn’t seem like that was working out and you were tired of waiting.

"yeah well i don’t think that’s going to happen." you said, your voice soft, almost sad. "the person i love doesn’t love me, so im just going to have to give up on that." you chuckled sadly, the sound almost a scoff.

"i understand that. im in the same situation." he confided. "but i haven’t given up. i don’t think you should either."

you looked over at him, the space between you both on the couch was small. you could feel the warmth radiating off of him. that’s just how chris is. he’s warm. he’s warm and he’s safe and.. how could you not be in love with him? your heart longed for him to be the one to take your virginity. your heart ached with the thought of it.

he looked back at you with his big brown eyes, his curly hair tickling his eyelashes. and he thought you were the most beautiful person he had ever seen. why couldn’t you just see how in love with you he is? he hated himself for not being able to confess to you. for not being able to just come clean and tell you how you are the center of his universe. but he was scared. to have you as his best friend and to long for you but never have you was better than telling you and losing you all together. but maybe.. he could try to help you with your current problem? see how things went and then he could decide from there what he would do.

"i could maybe.. help you." chris said shyly, rubbing his sweaty palms together in his lap.

you were shocked. "help me? with this?" why would he offer to help you unless he also wanted to? you felt a small bit of hope bloom in your chest.

"only if you want to." he said quickly. "i’m not trying to push myself on you. i’m just trying to help. we don’t have to."

you thought about it for a moment, your body screaming at you to say yes. but your mind was telling you everything that could go wrong. what if he hated it? found you gross and laughed at your inexperience? you brushed those thoughts off. you and chris has been friends for over fifteen years. he would never do something like that to you. he was kind.

"i would be okay with that.." you said. "but it might not be very good."

"i’ll help you through it, yeah?"

you loved him. god you loved him. this was the right decision,you knew that.

he scooted closer to you on the couch, your thighs pressed against each other. he touched your face, turning you to look at him. he looked in your eyes before saying "if you want to stop, just tell me,okay? i won’t be mad." you nodded as he looked down at your lips. and ever so slowly, not wanting to overwhelm you or scare you, he leaned it. his pillow soft lips made contact with yours and you were done for. he moved his lips against yours, his hand moving to cradle the back of your head. your hands found their way around his neck, tangling in his curls.

this felt so right, but your stomach churned with worry. your body was still tense.

"sweetheart, relax." he whispered against your lips. "you know me." he kissed you again, his tongue grazing your bottom lip. you felt embarrassed. kissing chris felt like the first time you had ever kissed anyone,even though that wasn’t the case.he had you so flustered, your lips weren’t listening to your brain’s commands. you opened your mouth and let his tongue in. he tasted sweet.

he pulled away, admiring your flushed cheeks. "do you want to move to your bedroom?" he asked. you nodded, and he stood, offering you his hand. he led you though your apartment and to your bedroom, knowing the way by heart. standing at the edge of your bed, he pulled you close. he kissed you again, his hands finding their way under your shirt, tickling the skin of your tummy.

"can we take this off?"

your hesitation made him pull away, studying your face for any signs of wanting to stop. "would it help if i took mine off first?" you nodded again, thankful for his suggestion. "you want to help me?"

you grabbed the hem of his black shirt and pulled it up and over his head, discarding it on the floor. you looked at him, at his body. you had seen him shirtless multiple times over the years. summers spent together swimming and early mornings at his apartment after late night study sessions, but this was different. his chest was bare because he wanted you to see it. and that made your skin hot.

"now you.." he said, reaching for your shirt slowly, giving you time to protest. but you didn’t. you let him pull your shirt off, leaving you standing in front of him in your jeans and lacy black bra. his eyes grew wide, his breath catching in his throat. could he do this? you were so beautiful and he hadn’t even seen all of you yet. you were starting to squirm under his stare. his hands were warm and soft as they grazed over your skin, his arms wrapping around your waist as he moved to kiss you again. his fingertips danced up your back, until they unclasped your bra and it fell to the floor. he continued kissing you, not looking at your bare chest right away, giving you time to get used to being bare in his presence. you nipples brushed against his chest, growing harder. arousal pooling between your legs as his kisses moved to your jaw and then your neck.

he took his time with you, slowly placing wet kisses on your skin as he guided you to the bed. he laid you down gently, his body hovering above you. he kissed down to your collarbones, across your chest and down to between your breasts. he looked up at you, his lips still pressed to your skin. your cheeks were red, your mouth slightly open as you tried to draw in breath. he saw no signs of stopping in your eyes. no , they begged him to continue. his lips closed around one of your nipples, his tongue gently caressing the nub. his hand gripped your waist as he sucked on your nipple, your hands balled into fists at your sides.

"you can touch me if you want to, baby." he said, his breath blowing cold against the wet skin of your breast. "don’t hold back."

he kissed his way across to your other nipple as you brought your hands to his hair. he started to move lower, until his lips were against your belly button, and even lower still until his tongue was running along the top of your jeans. "can i take these off?" he asked, fingers grazing over the button and zipper. with your approval, he carefully unbuttoned them and slid them down your legs, revealing your panties that matched your bra. he looked up at you, his face only inches from your center. "you’re so wet, baby." he said. "i can see a little wet patch on your panties."

your face flushed and you turned your head, hiding your embarrassment in your pillow.

"hey.. hey.." he said, his hand finding yours, tangling your fingers together. "don’t hide, baby. let me see your pretty face." you did your best to look at him, trying not to focus on your insecurities, but trying to focus on him instead. you squeezed his hand, his kind brown eyes showing nothing but love. he kissed your hip, and across your skin until he was placing a gentle kiss on your clothed clit. you jerked slightly. "is that the spot baby?" you nodded, biting your lip.

he pulled away, standing up. he chuckled at your pout, your little whines of protest. "just let me take these off." he unbuttoned his jeans, and kicked them to the side. he was only wearing his underwear now, his erection causing the material to stretch uncomfortably. he admired your body from this angle. your arms wrapped around your middle, your legs bending, trying to cover yourself. "don’t." he said, grabbing one of your wrists in each hand and holding your arms out. "let me look at you, baby. god, you are so beautiful."

his hands found their way back to your breasts,squeezing slightly before his fingertips grazed down your skin to the elastic of your panties. he hooked his fingers around them. "can i take these off? can i see your little pussy?" you lifted your hips in answer, helping him slide them off. you were completely naked in front of him now but you didn’t have time to be self conscious about it. his lips were already back on your skin,kissing everywhere he could reach. "fuck you’re so pretty." he mumbled against your tummy. "been dreaming about this."

what did he mean by that? you wondered.

"can i see you too?" you asked, your voice sounding so loud to your own ears, having been silent for so long. but you were starting to feel more comfortable. he made you feel so safe.

"of course you can." he said, straightening again to take his briefs off. and now you got to admire him for a moment. the hard muscles of his chest and abdomen leading down to his hard and leaking erection. the first thing you thought was that he was big. but honestly, you didn’t really have much to compare it to.. so what did you know? "don’t worry baby. we’ll go slow." he said, sensing your hesitation.

he leaned down to kiss your lips once again, his fingers making contact with your wetness. he rubbed soft circles on your clit. you grabbed onto his shoulders, your small whimpers falling into his mouth.

"does that feel good?" he asked.

"yes.." you breathed. "so good."

his fingers traveled down through your folds and teased your entrance. "i’ve got to prepare you a little bit, okay? like this.." and he slid one finger inside of you slowly, pumping in and out. you had done this to yourself before but this was completely different. you had never felt like this before. "there you go, baby." once he felt you had gotten used to the first finger, he added a second. he moved them in and out slowly, his thumb rubbing softly on your clit. you could feel your orgasm building. you were embarrassed by how quickly it had come. but you had been waiting so long for him to touch you like this, you couldn’t help it. he could feel you fluttering around his fingers. "are you going to cum?" he whispered against your neck, his lips pressing soft kisses, his teeth nibbling.

"yes.. yes fuck." you panted.

"go ahead, baby. let go."

and you did, you clamped down on his fingers, his name falling from your lips as your body shook.

he had been fantasizing about you moaning his name like that for so long now that it took everything in him not to bust right then. he took a deep breath, pulling his fingers out of you. you watched as he brought them to his mouth and licked them clean, your pussy dripping and pulsing, begging for more. he leaned over the side of the bed and fished a condom out of his pants pocket.

"are you ready?" he asked, holding the condom up.

"yes please." you said, breathless.

"ooh so polite." he teased, giggling as he tore the foil pack open. you watched as he pumped himself a few times, precum leaking from his swollen tip, before sliding the condom down his length. he leaned down and cupped your face, kissing you softly. "remember, we can stop at any time. just tell me. okay?"

"i don’t want to stop." you said, desperate. "please don’t stop."

he smiled. "i won’t unless you tell me to." he knelt in front of you, his hands on your knees, spreading your legs. he lined himself up with your entrance before slowly pushing the tip in. you gasped and his head fell back, his mouth open. he slowly inched his way inside, giving you time to adjust. you whined under him, your eyes squeezing shut at the stretch. "i know, baby. i know." he said. "you’re doing so good." once you felt his thighs on the back of yours, he stilled. letting you properly adjust to his size. he could feel you pulsing around him, his cock begging to cum. "i’m gonna move now, okay?"

you nodded frantically. "yes. yes please, please."

he slowly pulled out and pushed back in, his pace increasing with each thrust. he wasn’t going to last much longer. he knew that. "fuck— baby you feel so g—good." he stuttered. his hands were digging into your hips as he pumped into you. his mouth open, his eyebrows scrunched together, his hair sticking to his forehead. "are you doing okay?"

"fuck yes.." you gasped. "gonna— gonna cum."

he could feel you squeezing around him. he fell down on to his elbows, his arms caging your head, his panting breath in your ear. he continued pumping in and out of you, the wet sounds filling the room. "cum with m-me baby." he said. "fuck- fuck-"

you squeezed him tighter as your orgasm washed over you, you vision going dark. his thrusts got sloppy and then stopped all together as he spilled into the condom. he collapsed next to you, his panting matching your own. he lazily kissed your jaw and your shoulder. "i love you.." he said.

you froze.

"shit- sorry." he said. "i- i didn’t mean to ruin the moment.. it slipped out."

you turned to face him, his brown eyes looking worried. "i love you too.."

his hand caressed your cheek, his thumb rubbing softly back and forth. "really? you’re not just saying that because your overcome with emotion right now?"

you shook your head no. "i’ve been in love with you for a while now.." you confessed.

he chuckled. "i’ve been in love with you for a while. guess we were both too scared to say anything."

you nodded, feeling blissfully happy. you nuzzled into his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist.

"are you okay?" he asked. "was that.. okay?"

"i feel amazing." you said, your voice muffled by his chest. "i’m glad i waited for someone i truly love."

"gahh my heart." he said, squeezing you tighter,

[bakugoushotwife]

in my opinion, gojo’s storyline has been handled so so poorly i can’t help but think it’s intentional. it is not bad writing to kill a character—even a beloved character. i know most people will dismiss my criticisms because gojo is so beloved to me and so many others. i’ve said before that i don’t mind if he died. does it hurt? of course, and i would still cry and be sad about it. but there is a beautiful way to do it. with respect and honor for his legacy—for what he has done for your manga, the characters in it, and audiences worldwide. but no…gege chose the path of horror and disrespect. at certain points i’d say to myself, well. this is a dark manga. but essentially gojo is the only character that receives this treatment. since the beginning—since suguru left him, he’s been wondering if he mattered because he was a person, or if he only mattered because he was powerful and useable. we certainly fucking answered that question. he is a weapon and nobody ever cared about him at all!!!

and we knew he was being used—he knew he was being used, but he is selfless. so he did it for his kids. for megumi and yuuji and yuuta—he wanted them to be safe. in these flashbacks it’s exceedingly clear that he knew he would die. again—that’s not my issue. gojo dying to sukuna makes plenty of sense and it would hurt to leave it there. but to give us an afterlife scene where he’s presented a choice—north and south—that concept lead nowhere, that’s truly fucked up. to leave all the subtle clues and hints for no reason but to keep people reading and theorizing his return is fucked up. to continue to use his imagery to promote your manga when you know he’s not even honored in your manga is fucked up. we don’t get a funeral or a grave for him. no one’s spoken about him in chapters despite him fighting for hours against sukuna and damaging him so much that yuuji could win, nothing. yuuta wearing him like a costume and no one is horrified about it. i thought his students WERE different. they weren’t jujutsu society yet. that’s why gojo was their teacher—shaping them into better human beings. how am i supposed to trust in their future when it seems they’re just as cold and heartless as everyone before them? no one has honored gojo in any way since the moment he died. and they’ve forgotten about him. he spent his entire life fighting and no one can even say thank you. gege intentionally used gojo to promote the end of his manga because he knows that gojo fans make up at least half of his fanbase so had we stopped reading when he died, he would have lost a lot of traction. he baited us intentionally, cruelly, and something that transcends storytelling. i’ve truly never seen a mangaka have this sort of vitriol for one of their characters and the people that love him.

we spent the entire last chapter talking about some random fucking mission when we have several unanswered questions and concerns. i thought gege said he wanted this ending to be shocking and something you didn’t see in shonen? tying everything up neatly where no one has any trauma or grief for what they’ve experienced, everyone comes back to life except the one character you hate specifically and choso, defying your own power structures and having everyone laughing into the sunset is exactly how shonen ends so what in the fuck is he talking about??

let me disclaim, this is not megumi hate at all. i love him very much and i am so happy he’s back with the group but like. he shouldn’t be able to even walk. he tanked unlimited void for over 6 minutes whenever that length caused irreversible damage to sukuna himself. not to mention the countless black flashes. so what the fuck? he doesn’t mention gojo at all?? the first time he laughs in this manga is after he reads a note written by his dead fucking caretaker about his dead fucking father? like i don’t believe. random open ended kenjaku/suguru mention just to piss me off, an absolutely no mention of gojos sacrifice or how they’ll miss him. i’m sick to my stomach. gege defiled his memory both in the story and outside of it. wow.

P.S. SUKUNA CARED MORE ABOUT GOJO THAN ANYONE ELSE (SUGURU IS NOT INCLUDED IN THIS I MEAN HIS STUDENTS AND SOCIETY)

[apollogeticx]

✧˚₊· ͟͟͞͞➳ LABOUR ♡·˚

— [♡] ; souls tied by fate will inevitably cross paths again. ｡°. gojo satoru

tags: endgame gojo satoru, afab!reader, slow burn, pregnancy, regret, hurt/comfort, angst, co-parenting, vulnerable gojo satoru, past suguru geto x reader, past rejection, longing, bittersweet, I'm dramatic so I write dramatic shit, chapter two of ten

wc. 2.6K

prologue | part 1 | part 3

The air in the room became impossibly thick as Gojo’s voice echoed through the hideout, his presence overpowering everything else. The tension was suffocating, your heart hammering in your chest as you stood frozen in place. Satoru Gojo—he was here, and from the look in his eyes, there was no mistaking the anger simmering beneath the surface. For the first time, you felt a tremor of fear—not just for yourself, but for what would happen next.

Suguru Geto turned slowly, his calm demeanor unwavering despite the sudden arrival of his former best friend. His dark eyes flicked toward Gojo, and for a brief moment, something flickered between them—na unspoken recognition, a history that hung between them like a heavy shadow. But Geto didn’t seem surprised. If anything, it was as if he had been expecting this.

“Well, well,” Geto said, his voice low and smooth, as if he were welcoming na old acquaintance. “I was wondering when you’d show up, Satoru.”

Gojo’s eyes never left yours, his piercing gaze locked onto you with na intensity that made it hard to breathe. The weight of his presence pressed down on you, making you feel like a child caught in the middle of a storm you had no control over. You wanted to speak, to explain, but the words stuck in your throat. What could you even say? That you had chosen to leave Jujutsu High, to abandon everything you once knew, to follow the man who stood before you?

“So,” Gojo said, his tone biting, “you’re joining him now? Is this what you really want?”

His question was sharp, cutting straight through you, and you couldn’t help but flinch under the accusation in his voice. He wasn’t just angry—there was something else in his eyes, something deeper, something that almost looked like hurt. But that didn’t make sense. Why would he care? He had rejected you, brushed you aside like you didn’t matter. So why was he here now, standing in front of you, as if your decision had somehow affected him?

“I… I made my choice,” you managed to say, though your voice was barely above a whisper. You stood straighter, trying to summon the strength you had felt just moments ago, before Gojo had arrived. “This is what I want.”

But even as you said the words, a flicker of doubt crept into your heart. Was this truly what you wanted? Or had you been so desperate to escape your pain that you’d latched onto Geto’s ideals without fully understanding the consequences?

Geto stepped forward, his presence grounding you as he spoke with the calm authority that had drawn you to him in the first place. “She came to me of her own will, Satoru. Don’t you see? She’s tired of being part of your broken world. She’s found something better.”

Gojo’s jaw clenched, and you could see the muscles in his neck tighten as he took a step closer, closing the distance between the two of you. His gaze flicked to Geto, and his voice was low, dangerously so. “You think you can manipulate her like this, Geto? Just like everyone else who follows you?”

Your breath caught in your throat at the accusation, and something inside you twisted painfully. Manipulate? Is that what Gojo thought this was? That you were too weak, too naive to make your own decisions?

“I’m not being manipulated,” you said, more forcefully this time, the frustration bubbling up inside you. “I chose this because I believe in it. I believe in what Geto stands for.”

Gojo’s eyes snapped back to yours, and for a moment, the weight of his stare was unbearable. “Do you really?” he asked, his voice quieter now, more measured. “Do you even know what he stands for? Or are you just running away from something you don’t want to face?”

His words cut deep, because somewhere in your heart, you knew there was truth in them. But you couldn’t admit that, not now, not when you had already come this far. You were trying to move forward, to leave the pain behind. But Gojo, with his relentless gaze and piercing questions, was forcing you to confront everything you had been running from.

“I’m not running away,” you said, though your voice lacked the conviction you wanted it to carry. “I’m tired of… of being nothing. Tired of trying to live in a world that doesn’t care about me. With Geto, I can be part of something real.”

Gojo’s expression darkened, and he closed the distance between the two of you in na instant. His hand reached out, but instead of grabbing you, his fingers curled around your wrist gently, holding you in place as if daring you to pull away.

“You think Geto cares about you?” he asked, his voice low and intense. “You think he’ll give you the life you want? He doesn’t care about people like you—he uses them. That’s how he operates.”

You tried to pull away from him, but Gojo’s grip was firm, not painful, but strong enough to keep you there, forcing you to look into his eyes. There was something raw in his expression now, something vulnerable that you hadn’t seen before. His usual playful, carefree mask was gone, replaced by a seriousness that rattled you to your core.

“He’ll break you, just like he’s broken everyone else who’s followed him,” Gojo continued, his voice soft but relentless. “And when he’s done, he’ll toss you aside. Is that really what you want?”

A lump formed in your throat, and for the first time since you had made the decision to leave, doubt fully seeped into your chest. You had thought Geto’s ideals offered freedom, a place to belong, but Gojo’s words made you question everything. Was Geto just using you? Was this really your escape, or was it just another trap?

Before you could answer, Geto’s voice cut through the tense silence.

“Let her go, Satoru.”

Gojo didn’t move, his eyes still locked onto yours, but you could feel the tension between the two men grow heavier. Geto’s calm demeanor was still intact, but there was a steeliness in his gaze now, a warning.

“This isn’t about you and me, Geto,” Gojo said quietly. “This is about her.”

“And she’s made her choice,” Geto replied, his voice smooth but firm. “Let her go.”

Gojo’s grip on your wrist tightened slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “You don’t have to do this,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper now, as if this was the last chance he had to reach you. “You can come back. You don’t have to go down this path.”

Your chest tightened, your thoughts spinning in every direction. You had come this far, had left everything behind. But now, with Gojo standing in front of you, his presence so overwhelming, his voice cutting through your resolve, you didn’t know what to do.

You could feel the weight of Geto’s gaze on you as well, though it was calmer, more patient, as if he knew what decision you would make. But did he? Did you?

Torn between two powerful forces, you stood there, caught between Gojo’s plea and Geto’s promises. This was the moment of truth—the moment that would define the rest of your life.

But which path would you take?

The silence in the room was deafening, the air thick with tension as you stood between Gojo and Geto, the two forces that had pulled you in opposite directions since you left Jujutsu High. But the weight of your decision had already settled in your heart. Gojo’s words, though laced with concern, had only deepened the wound he had inflicted on you from the start. He had broken you once—shattered your heart with his rejection—and now he stood there, pleading with you as if he could somehow undo the damage. But it was too late for that.

You looked down at the hand gripping your wrist, the heat of his touch sparking emotions you weren’t ready to feel. The words he spoke weren’t enough to erase the pain, the months of being invisible in his eyes. He wanted to protect you now, but where had that concern been when you needed it most? His sudden care felt like a cruel afterthought, too little, too late.

With a deep breath, you pulled your wrist out of Gojo’s grasp, stepping back from him. The look in his eyes twisted something inside of you—there was hurt there, masked beneath his usual confidence. But he had already broken you once, and you couldn’t allow him to do it again. There was nothing left for him to shatter.

“I’ve made my choice,” you said, your voice quieter than you intended, but firm. You looked at Gojo, holding his gaze, even though it was painful. “You were right… maybe I’m running from something. But I’ve already run too far to turn back now.”

The silence that followed your words felt like the calm before a storm. Gojo’s face shifted, the tension around his eyes tightening, his jaw clenching. He didn’t speak immediately, but the weight of his disappointment was palpable, pressing down on you like a physical force. His usual carefree mask was gone, replaced by something much darker, much heavier.

“Is that really what you want?” Gojo asked, his voice low, the sharpness in his tone cutting through you. “To throw away everything? To follow him?”

The anger simmering beneath his calm exterior finally surfaced, and you could see the battle raging within him—his protective instincts clashing with the hurt of your choice. But there was no going back now.

“Yes,” you said, your voice stronger this time. “I’m following Geto. There’s nothing left for me at Jujutsu High.”

Gojo took a step forward, his expression hardening. “You think this will make things better? Geto will—”

“He can’t break me,” you interrupted, your words laced with a rawness that surprised even you. “You already did that.”

The room seemed to freeze after that. For a long moment, neither of you moved. Gojo’s eyes widened slightly, a flicker of something—regret, maybe—crossing his face. But it was fleeting, gone before you could truly understand it. His hands, which had been clenched at his sides, relaxed for a moment before tightening again.

There was nothing more to say. You had laid bare the truth. Gojo had broken you in ways he didn’t even realize, and now you were too far gone to be saved. You weren’t the same person who had walked into his classroom with a gift and a confession. That person was long gone.

Geto, who had been silent through the entire exchange, finally stepped forward, his presence calm and steady. His dark eyes flickered between you and Gojo, and though his expression remained neutral, you could feel the satisfaction radiating from him.

“I told you, Satoru,” Geto said softly, his voice carrying a weight of certainty. “You can’t save everyone.”

Gojo’s jaw clenched, but he didn’t respond. His gaze lingered on you for a long moment, the intensity of it almost too much to bear. But then, without another word, he turned on his heel and walked away. The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing in the quiet space.

You stood frozen for a few moments, the weight of everything crashing down on you. Gojo was gone. You had pushed him away. It was over.

“Are you sure about this?” Geto’s voice broke through your thoughts, gentle but laced with a warning. “Once you walk this path, there’s no going back. Not even for you.”

You didn’t hesitate this time. The decision had already been made.

“I’m sure,” you said, turning to face Geto fully. “I have nothing left to lose.”

Geto’s eyes softened slightly, and for the first time, you felt something close to comfort in his presence. It wasn’t warmth or kindness—it was the understanding that came from someone who had already walked the same path you were about to take.

“You’ve been broken before,” Geto said, almost thoughtfully, “but that means you know what it’s like to rebuild yourself.” His gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he nodded. “Follow me, then.”

Without waiting for you to respond, Geto turned and began walking deeper into the hideout, his presence commanding as always. You followed without hesitation, your steps feeling heavier but more purposeful. Each one took you further from the life you once knew, the person you once were.

As you walked through the dimly lit corridors, you couldn’t help but think of Gojo one last time. His face, his voice, the way he had looked at you with both anger and something close to care—it all lingered in your mind like a ghost. But that part of your life was over. Gojo had his world, and you had chosen yours.

Geto led you into a small chamber, sparsely furnished but enough to serve as a living space. “This will be yours,” he said, his tone matter-of-fact. “For now.”

You nodded, setting your bag down in the corner. The room felt cold, unfamiliar, but there was a strange sense of comfort in that. This was your new beginning, no matter how difficult or dangerous it would be.

Geto lingered in the doorway for a moment, watching you closely. “You’ll train with us,” he said, “but more importantly, you’ll learn what it means to truly live outside the constraints of the world you’ve known.”

His words were heavy, and you knew that what he was offering wasn’t just strength—it was freedom, a chance to create something new from the broken pieces of your life. It was dangerous, yes, but you had already risked everything to be here.

“And remember,” Geto continued, his voice softer now, “this is your choice. No one can take that from you.”

You met his gaze and nodded. “I won’t regret it.”

Geto’s expression remained unreadable, but there was a flicker of approval in his eyes as he stepped back. “Good.”

With that, he left you alone in the room, the door clicking shut softly behind him.

You sat down on the edge of the small bed, exhaling slowly. The silence was heavy, but it was different from the silence you had known at Jujutsu High. This silence wasn’t filled with the weight of invisible expectations or the pain of rejection. It was simply… empty.

For the first time in a long while, the emptiness didn’t scare you. It didn’t hurt.

Because now, for better or for worse, you were free to fill it with whatever you chose.

And you would.

As you sat there, your mind quieted, and a sense of determination settled over you like a cloak. There was no turning back now. You were following Geto’s path, and in doing so, you were forging your own.

Gojo had broken you enough already.

There was nothing left for Geto to break.

notes: Guys~ thank you so much for all the kudos and comments! <3 if you wanna be tagged just let me know!

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©apollogeticx ⋆ all rights reserved.

[br0kenangel]

𓈒ㅤׂㅤ 𓇼 ࣪ 𝐒𝐭𝐫𝐚𝐲 𝐃♡𝐠𝐬 𓈒ㅤׂㅤ⭒⠀

Pairing: Plagued Aegon x Plagued Reader part 1

Summary: you were no longer a human. You were a rat. Something for them to experiment on for their own sick pleasure. You hate everything. God why it's always happening to you? What did you do to deserve this? But just beside you is a man. A man who don't even know his name and yet he's so hopeful. As if he believes you gonna be save...

Warning: torture, unknown virus, abuse, amnesia.

˚꒰♡꒱‧ Hi there! Before you read this, you should know that English is not my first language. And yes I'm inspired by The Plague Dogs. Original gif by @kieraknightley. Hope you enjoy!

The door to her cell clanged open, and she was yanked from the remnants of sleep. Her eyes shot open, the same as every other day, staring at the blank, cold walls around her, the air thick with the smell of rot. The guards entered with heavy, careless footsteps, their faces hidden beneath gas masks, those black eyes like hollow pits staring back. Always covered, always distant.

She hated them. Every last one of them.

The guard threw a metal tray onto the ground by the door, the slop on it sloshing onto the filthy floor. He didn’t even bother looking at her. None of them did. She glared up at him, her hands clenched into fists by her side. It took everything in her not to spit on the tray, not to lash out. The heavy door of Egg’s cell creaked next to hers, and she could hear him scrambling up, his voice weak, hopeful.

“Thank you!” Egg’s voice was filled with too much sincerity for this hellhole. She could hear him thanking them every day, like a child grateful for scraps.

The guards only laughed. One of them stepped forward and kicked Egg’s tray, sending it flying into the dirt and filth. She heard Egg's soft gasp, the shuffle as he hurried to clean up the food. "Pathetic," one of the guards spat, his voice muffled by the mask. "Still pretending to be grateful. Like we give a shit."

She glared at them, her heart pounding in her chest. Bastards. All of them. Their mocking words, the way they looked down at her and Egg like they weren’t even human anymore, burned inside her. She pulled her knees to her chest, locking her jaw, refusing to touch the slop they'd left her. The smell alone made her stomach churn.

“You should be grateful,” another guard sneered, crouching just far enough from her reach, “for the food, for us keeping you alive. Without us, you'd be rotting by now.” His gaze flickered to Egg’s cell. “Or worse, like that freak over there.”

He stepped closer to the bars, his breath coming in harsh, shallow bursts behind the mask. She could feel his gaze on her, even if she couldn’t see his eyes. “What’s wrong? You don’t want it? Worthless slut.” His voice was thick with contempt, the words dripping with that familiar venom.

Her jaw tightened. She could feel her pulse pounding in her head, the fury rising up through her like a storm. She wanted to lunge at him, rip the mask from his face, spit every hateful thing she’d ever thought right into his eyes. She wanted him to feel the same helpless rage she felt every single day.

But then, from the corner of her eye, she saw Egg.

He was watching her, his food forgotten for a moment, his wide, innocent eyes filled with worry. He shook his head, just the slightest movement, like a silent plea for her to stay calm. To let it go.

Her breath hitched. The anger in her chest twisted, turned into something else. Something that left her feeling hollow.

She bit her tongue hard, tasted the iron of her own blood, and looked away.

The guard laughed, his voice harsh and brittle. “Yeah, that’s what I thought,” he said, and then he was gone, his boots pounding away down the corridor.

They left eventually, their laughter echoing down the hallway. The door slammed shut behind them with a final, metallic thud. Her gaze lingered on the untouched tray in front of her. For a moment, she didn’t move. Just sat there, legs pulled tight against her chest, staring at the cold stone floor. Her heart was still beating too fast, the remnants of that anger still coursing through her veins like a poison.

Egg’s voice broke the silence. “It’s good today. Really good.” He was already eating again, his fingers picking at the slop, oblivious to the fact that it was barely fit for a stray dog. She could see him through the bars, see the way his face lit up at the smallest bite, the way he savored it like it was something real, something substantial.

Slowly, she dragged her own tray closer, wrinkling her nose at the smell. She poked at it with one finger, barely able to stomach the thought of even tasting it. The mush was cold, congealed. Bits of unidentifiable meat and vegetables floating in a grayish slop. It looked rancid. The smell alone was enough to make her sick. “You like this?” she muttered, glancing over at Egg, who paused with a piece of it halfway to his mouth.

He nodded eagerly, his pale eyes wide with that same, childlike innocence she never understood. “Yes,” he said, his voice soft, “it’s not so bad. Better than nothing.”

She stared at him, at the way he seemed almost happy, even with the bruises on his arms, even with his bald head and the rot creeping up his foot. He was breaking down, piece by piece, and still, he was grateful.

She sighed, pushing the tray toward the bars between them. “You want mine?”

His head snapped up, surprise lighting his face. “Really?” he asked, his voice full of that strange, childlike gratitude. “You’re sure?”

She pushed the tray toward him, not bothering to answer. What was the point? He’d take it anyway, with or without her permission. He always did. And part of her—despite herself—was glad for it. Glad that at least one of them could still find joy in something, no matter how small or disgusting.

She watching as he pulled it into his cell with a quiet, “Thank you.” He dug in, as if it were a feast, as if it were something worth eating.

She pulled her knees back to her chest, glaring at the wall across from her, feeling nothing but anger clawing at her insides.

She leaned her head back against the cold, rough wall of her cell, eyes half-lidded as she watched Egg devour the food like it was a feast. His thin fingers scraped at the last bits, collecting every crumb from the tray. She wondered, not for the first time, how he could still find joy in this place. This pit of cruelty, where people were thrown away like garbage, left to rot from the inside out. The scientists didn’t care. The guards didn’t care. No one cared. Yet here he was, thanking them for scraps like it meant something.

It didn’t make sense to her, but then again, nothing about him made sense.

She closed her eyes for a moment, feeling the weight of exhaustion settle in. The air in the cell was thick and sour with the scent of decay—her own body betraying her, just like his. Every day, the virus crept a little further into her, and she knew it was only a matter of time before she would end up like the others. Bald. Rotted. Forgotten.

“Sir, I’ve been hearing things,” she had said, standing stiffly in front of her commanding officer’s desk, the cold metal of her dog tags brushing against her chest as she shifted her weight. Her voice had been careful, measured, though she could feel the unease creeping under her skin.

“Things?” he’d drawled, not even looking up from the reports in front of him. He was a big man, intimidating, with cold, flat eyes that never softened for anyone. The room had smelled of cigar smoke and sweat, suffocating in its familiarity.

“About the virus. The researchers—they’re talking about using humans now. They said they needed criminals for the tests. But these people—” she hesitated, trying to find the words, “they aren’t volunteers. They’re just taking them.”

He hadn’t flinched. Not even a flicker of emotion crossed his face. Instead, his mouth twisted into a cruel smirk as he finally looked up at her. “And? They’re criminals. Who gives a damn what happens to them?”

She had stared at him, a knot of anger forming in her chest. “They’re still people, sir. They deserve—”

“They deserve nothing.” He had cut her off sharply, his eyes narrowing, his voice growing harder, more dangerous. “They’re trash. Nothing more. And if they die, then they die.” He laughed then, a hollow, humorless sound that made her stomach turn. “Good riddance.”

Her hands had curled into fists at her sides. “We should tell people, warn them. They could protect themselves, take precautions. It’s not right to keep this from them.” The words had left her mouth before she could stop them.

He had stood up so quickly the chair behind him scraped against the floor, his towering presence looming over her. The air had shifted, heavy with tension, with that familiar threat. And then—before she had even registered what was happening—his hand cracked across her face, the sting of it snapping her head to the side. Her skin burned where he hit her, but it was the coldness in his eyes that hurt more.

“You’re getting too comfortable, soldier,” he growled, stepping closer, so close she could smell the whiskey on his breath, feel the heat of his body pressing into hers. She had swallowed hard, trying to push down the panic rising in her throat. “You speak when spoken to. Nothing more. Do you understand?”

Her jaw clenched, but she had nodded, the sting of his slap pulsing on her cheek. He gripped her chin then, forcing her to meet his gaze, his thumb brushing the reddened skin he’d just struck. She had wanted to jerk away, to spit in his face, but she knew better. She’d learned better.

“There’s a good girl,” he cooed, his tone sickeningly soft as his hand moved down to caress her cheek, his thumb pressing too hard against her skin. Her stomach turned in disgust, but she stood rigid, swallowing the bile that threatened to rise. His face had been so close to hers, the distance between them shrinking until she could feel his breath on her lips. “You should know your place by now. I don’t need you thinking for yourself.”

Her skin had crawled at his touch, her heart hammering in her chest as she forced herself to stay still, to not flinch. His fingers were rough, calloused, every brush against her face a reminder of how powerless she was in that moment.

She had hated him. Hated every second of it, hated the way he looked at her, like she was nothing but a tool to be used, a piece of meat. And she had hated herself more for not pulling away, for not fighting harder.

God, I should have killed him there.

A scrape of metal on concrete pulled her back. Egg had pushed the empty trays toward the bars, wiping his hands on his tattered pants. He sat back against the wall of his cell, his legs folded beneath him, a small smile tugging at his lips. His feet, one of them wrapped in old bandages, were still raw and rotting, but he didn’t seem to mind.

“Thank you for the food,” he said again softly, more to himself than to her. His voice always held that strange, gentle tone. It was like he lived in a different world from her—a world where hope still existed.

She didn’t respond. She couldn’t. The bile rose in her throat just thinking about it. There was no hope here. Only survival. And even that was slipping away.

The silence hung between them, broken only by the faint dripping of water somewhere deep within the prison. She could feel Egg’s eyes on her, could sense his need to say something, but she wasn’t in the mood to hear it. Not today.

She opened her eyes again, staring through the bars at Egg. His pale face was turned toward her, his wide eyes still full of that same, infuriating innocence.

“Do you think…” he began, his voice soft and hesitant, “do you think today could be the day?”

She narrowed her eyes. “What day?”

“The day they let us out,” he said, almost hopefully. “Maybe… maybe they’ll find my family. Maybe they’ll come for me.”

She stared at him, her lips pressed into a hard line. He’d said it before—many times. It was always the same fantasy. That somehow, someone would find him. That his wife and children would come through those doors and save him from this nightmare. It made her sick to hear it.

“They’re not coming,” she said flatly, her voice sharp enough to cut through his delusion.

Egg blinked, his smile faltering for a moment, but only for a moment. He recovered quickly, nodding as if he hadn’t heard her. “I know,” he whispered, but there was a distant look in his eyes, like he didn’t believe it. “But maybe…”

Maybe.

She hated that word.

It was late, well past midnight, the lights in the barracks casting long shadows over the cold concrete floors. She had stayed back to finish some paperwork, her shoulders stiff from hours of tension, her eyes burning from the fluorescent lights overhead. The others had left hours ago, their laughter and chatter fading as the door clicked shut behind them. She had been alone for what felt like hours.

Then came the sound of footsteps behind her, slow and deliberate. She knew those footsteps—sharp, heavy boots that echoed down the hall.

Her fingers froze on the papers as she stiffened, already dreading the encounter. She didn't have to turn around to know who it was. His presence was always a weight, always something that pressed down on her.

“You’re still here?” His voice slithered out, the tone too casual, too familiar.

She forced herself to keep writing, focusing on the feel of the pen in her hand. “Finishing the report, sir.”

He moved closer, and she could feel his eyes on her back, like a predator watching its prey. “You work too hard,” he said, a mock concern dripping from his words.

The hair on the back of her neck prickled, but she didn’t turn. “Just doing my job.”

“You’re a good soldier, Y/N.” His voice was closer now, just behind her, and then she felt it—his hand on her shoulder, squeezing. “But you should know when to relax.”

She went stiff, her breath catching in her throat as his fingers dug into her skin, the pressure uncomfortably tight. She wanted to shrug him off, to pull away, but she stayed still, forcing herself to breathe evenly.

“Sir, I’d appreciate it if you—”

The slap came without warning, sharp and brutal, the sting of it blooming across her cheek as her head snapped to the side. The chair wobbled beneath her, and she barely caught herself before falling.

“Shut the fuck up, Y/N,” he snarled, the warmth draining from his voice in an instant, replaced with cold anger.

Her heart pounded in her chest, her pulse loud in her ears as she brought a hand to her face, feeling the heat of the slap still radiating from her cheek. She tried to push away from the desk, but he was on her in seconds, his fingers gripping her jaw with bruising force.

“Look at me,” he hissed, pulling her face up so she had no choice but to meet his eyes. The cruelty there made her stomach turn. “You think you’re special? You think you’re above this?”

“Sir, don’t—”

His grip tightened, and her words died in her throat as he leaned in closer, so close she could smell the whiskey on his breath, feel the heat of it against her skin. “You’re just a tool, Lieutenant. Just another fucking soldier. You don’t get to tell me what to do.”

Her stomach twisted as he dragged his fingers down from her face, trailing them along her neck, his breath hot and sour as he pressed closer. She pushed at him, but his body was a wall, unyielding.

“No one’s going to save you,” he whispered, his voice sickeningly soft. “Not out here.”

His hand moved lower, fingers slipping beneath the edge of her uniform, and panic surged through her chest. She shoved harder, desperate, but his hand wrapped around her wrist, pinning it to the desk with a force that made her cry out.

“You’re my bitch,” he whispered.

The pressure, the smell, the hands that wouldn’t stop moving—it was suffocating. Her world shrunk to the feel of him against her, the cruel grip on her wrist, and the terror that choked her.

And then—

She woke up with a sharp intake of breath, her body drenched in sweat, heart pounding like she’d just run miles. Her chest heaved as she blinked rapidly, trying to push the nightmare away, but the phantom touch of his hands lingered, the sound of his voice still echoing in her ears.

For a moment, she just lay there, staring at the filthy ceiling of her cell, trying to pull herself back to reality. It was just a dream. Just a dream. But it had never felt like a dream—it was a memory, twisted, haunting her over and over again.

She turned her head, and through the dim light, she saw Egg sitting up, his legs crossed as he watched her with that same innocent concern.

“Are you okay?” he asked quietly, his wide eyes blinking at her in the dark.

She clenched her jaw, pushing herself up to sit, wiping the sweat from her forehead. Her fingers still trembled as she raked them through her hair, her breath shaky.

“Shut the fuck up, Egg,” she snapped, not bothering to look at him. The last thing she needed was him asking questions.

But Egg, as always, just laughed softly, the sound too light, too out of place. “You’re so mean,” he said, his tone teasing but without any malice. He seemed oblivious to her anger, to the frustration simmering beneath her skin.

She didn’t respond, just kept rubbing her face, trying to shake off the nightmare.

“I miss my wife,” Egg said suddenly, his voice wistful, like he was sharing a precious secret. “She’s so beautiful, you know? And my three kids—they’re waiting for me. We live in a small house, but it’s cozy. We’ve got a dog too. You’d like him. He's real sweet.”

She blinked, slowly lowering her hands to her lap as she stared at him. He was smiling again, that same soft, distant look in his eyes as he raised three fingers toward her. “Three kids,” he repeated, like he was proud of it.

She frowned, unsure how to react. Part of her believed him—he spoke with such conviction, like he really did have a family waiting for him on the outside. A wife. Kids. A dog. A cozy little house.

But how could someone like him have all that? How could someone in this rotting hellhole dream of such things?

“What about you?” he asked, looking at her expectantly. “Do you have anyone waiting for you?”

She clenched her jaw, her body tensing again. Her life outside? What fucking life? She didn’t owe him that. She didn’t owe anyone anything.

When she didn’t respond, Egg’s brows furrowed slightly, his confusion evident. “You don’t have anyone?” he asked, as if that idea was impossible to him.

“Keep your head up your own ass, Egg,” she spat, turning away from him and lying back down, staring at the wall. She didn’t need this shit. Not from him.

Egg just chuckled, unbothered. “You’re so mean,” he whispered again, the fondness in his voice unsettling in its innocence.

She closed her eyes, trying to shut out his words, trying to pull herself back into sleep. But the memory of the dream clung to her, as did his quiet, persistent voice.

When she woke, it felt wrong. Everything felt wrong.

Her eyes fluttered open, but the world around her was hazy, distorted, as if she were underwater, drowning in a nightmare that refused to end. The light above her flickered一too bright, then too dim-casting eerie shadows across the room, dancing over figures she couldn't quite make out.

She tried to move, but nothing happened. Her arms were pinned, her legs too. A sudden wave of terror washed over her as the realization sank in-she was tied down. Strapped to a bed. Panic surged in her chest, her heart thudding painfully in her ribs. Her muscles strained, burning with effort, but it was useless. She couldn't move.

Her throat felt tight, like something was pressing down on it, and when she tried to scream, her mouth wouldn't cooperate. No sound came out. Not even a whimper. She couldn't breathe. She couldn't scream.

Her vision was blurry, but she could see the outlines of figures moving around her. They wore masks, their faces obscured, just shadows of men and women- scientists. She could hear their voices, muffled and distant, like she was underwater, the words coming and going in waves.

"Increase the dosage."

"Prep the subject."

"It vitals are spiking–"

A hand brushed over her arm, cold and clinical, and she shuddered inwardly, her skin crawling beneath the touch. She could feel the sharp pinch of something digging into her, like metal, slicing into her skin. Pain flared through her body, white-hot and unbearable. Her nerves Screamed, but her voice refused to come. She was trapped in her own body, her own skin, a prisoner in this nightmare.

What are they doing to me?

The thought was frantic, wild, desperate, but there was no escape. Every inch of her burned-her arms, her legs, her chest, her head. It was like her flesh was on fire, melting, tearing apart from the inside out. The sensation was unbearable. She wanted to thrash, to rip herself free, to claw at her skin until she could feel something else, anything else-but she couldn't.

They were talking, their words drifting in and out, but they might as well have been speaking another language. She couldn't focus on anything except the pain, the overwhelming, unrelenting pain.

A needle slid into her skin, and for a moment, everything went white. Her mind screamed, her body convulsing, and the world blurred around her, warping into something unreal, like a fever dream. She wanted to rip herself apart, wanted t scream, to beg them to stop, but her mouth wouldn't move.

She was suffocating. Her body was betraying her. The straps holding her down dug into her flesh, the pain mixing with the agony coursing through her veins. It felt like her skin was being torn off, layer by layer, exposed and raw, the air itself an assault on her senses. She could feel the sharp edges of instruments scraping against her bones, prying her open.

God, please stop! she screamed in her mind, her thoughts a frantic, wild plea. Please stop, someone, make it stop!

Her eyes darted frantically, trying to find anything to focus on, something that wasn't the excruciating agony tearing her apart. But all she saw were the masked faces, the glint of metal tools, the flashing lights above her. The lights flickered, fading in and out, casting long shadows that twisted into grotesque shapes on the walls.

Time lost all meaning. Minutes bled into hours, hours into an eternity of pain. She couldn't remember a time before the burning, before the tearing, before the relentless torture. The world outside of her agony didn't exist anymore.

They were cutting her apart, but nothing was bleeding. She could feel it-feel them pulling at her skin, at her bones, but she was still whole. It didn't make sense. None of it made sense. Her mind was unraveling, and she wanted to scream, wanted to claw at her own head to make it stop, make it all stop.

She could see their eyes through the masks一cold, dispassionate, like she was nothing more than a lab rat, just another experiment. They didn't care. They didn't care that she was in agony, that every part of her was screaming, begging for mercy.

And then-

The needle.

It swept over her, like a wave crashing down, pulling her under. Everything went silent. The pain was still there, but it was distant now, far away, like it belonged to Someone else. Her eyelids fluttered shut, the world around her fading into darkness.

And then there was nothing.

No sound. No light. No pain.

Just oblivion.

@ 𝒃𝒓𝒐𝒌𝒆𝒏𝒂𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒍 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒. 𝒅𝒐𝒏'𝒕 𝒄𝒐𝒑𝒚, 𝒓𝒆𝒑𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒐𝒓 𝒕𝒓𝒂𝒏𝒔𝒍𝒂𝒕𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒇 𝒎𝒚 𝒘𝒐𝒓𝒌𝒔 𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒆 𝒐𝒓 𝒂𝒏𝒚 𝒐𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒓 𝒘𝒆𝒃𝒔𝒊𝒕𝒆𝒔.

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 9

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , -

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

“You know, to be honest... no,” you said, your voice steady, cold.

Ian’s eyes lit up with delight, misinterpreting your words at first. But his expression quickly faded as you added, “I don’t trust you either.”

Ian hadn’t expected that. His brow furrowed, and for a moment, he was at a loss. He had been so sure of his position, of where he stood with you, that hearing your blunt confession shook him. Was this the same woman he had once admired? The one who had fought alongside him, standing up to injustice?

“I don’t trust anyone right now,” you continued, your voice low, carrying the weight of the burden you’ve been shouldering.

Ian’s lips tightened as he looked at you, searching for the person he thought he knew. “So you choose to stay with him.” The way he said it was both an accusation and a plea.

“It’s... complicated,” you replied, your voice wavering for the first time. But deep down, you knew it wasn’t just about survival—it was about winning. About showing Caroline and everyone else that you could rise above it all. The desire to shove your victory in their faces burned more intensely than your desire to leave.

Ian shook his head, disappointment heavy in his voice. “I’m disappointed in you. This isn’t the friend I knew. The person who fought for the truth, the person I admired and...” He stopped himself. He didn’t need to say it, but you knew what came next—'the person I liked.'

“Ian...” you started, feeling the sting of his words, but before you could say more, the mood shifted sharply. People suddenly began flooding back into the café as though nothing unusual had happened. You exchanged a confused look with Ian, his surprise mirroring your own.

Tim’s cheerful voice cut through the confusion. “You had your coffee?” He waved, sitting comfortably in his wheelchair, oblivious to the tension in the air.

Your eyes darted to Bucky, who was standing behind Tim, his presence dominating the space. Flanked by bodyguards, he stepped into the café like he owned the place. For a moment, you felt a strange sense of relief seeing him, though you knew better than to fully trust that feeling.

“Ian! What's up!” Tim added, offering a friendly wave, unaware of the storm brewing beneath the surface.

You quickly grabbed your coffee cup, walking toward Bucky and whispering, “I want to go.”

Bucky didn’t take his eyes off Ian as he responded, “Go with Tim.” His voice was sharp, calculating. Something was off, and he knew it. The uneasy feeling had only grown when Tim mentioned that you hadn’t returned from the café. That’s why he had come—to check on you.

You nodded, quickly moving to push Tim’s wheelchair, eager to escape the thick tension in the air. The moment you stepped outside, you felt the weight lift, but the knot in your stomach remained.

Now, it was just Bucky and Ian. The tension between them could cut through glass.

Bucky’s eyes stayed cold, his expression unreadable, but his voice was smooth, measured. “I understand you hate my family,” he said, folding his arms. “I’m not here to defend what my brother did. There are no excuses for his actions. But you should know...” He leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a near-whisper, “You don’t get to play God with this situation.”

Ian stared at Bucky, his jaw clenched. “Your brother ruined lives. And you let him walk free until it was convenient for you to throw him under the bus.”

Bucky’s lips curled into a small, calculating smile. “Let’s not pretend this is about justice, Ian. This is about revenge. Your brother was a tragedy, yes, but don’t stand there and act like your motives are pure.”

Ian leaned forward, his anger barely contained. “Maybe it is about revenge. But at least I’m not hiding behind the lie that this is all some grand scheme for the greater good. You sacrifice people for your ambition. You use them. Shawn. Me. Her.”

“But,” Bucky raised a single finger, his voice low but sharp, “you forget one thing. You can’t sue my family because the family that adopted your twin has already reached a settlement with us.”

Ian’s jaw tightened. “Money can’t replace my brother.”

Bucky gave a slow, measured nod. “That’s right. But the case is closed.” His voice was almost casual, like they were discussing a simple transaction.

“Do you really want to bring it up again and humiliate the adopted family that raised your twin? That couple is enjoying their pension life.” Bucky pulled out a photo, holding it up with a smirk. “Look, both of them are on a cruise. Carefree.”

Ian’s hands clenched into fists, his eyes burning with anger.

Bucky leaned in slightly, his voice dropping to a quiet murmur. “You’re trying to bring me down, Ian. But let’s be honest. We’re in different leagues.”

Ian’s voice was cold, filled with contempt. “Different leagues?” He took a step forward, not backing down. “You think power makes you untouchable, but everyone falls eventually, Bucky. Even you. The difference is, when you fall, it’ll be a lot harder than it was for your brother.”

Bucky raised an eyebrow, unimpressed. “You talk big for a man with no cards to play.”

Then, in a swift motion, Bucky snapped his fingers, calling the barista over. “You,” Bucky said, his gaze locking onto the young man behind the counter, “what did he offer you to get involved in this?”

The barista froze, wide-eyed and clearly caught off guard. His eyes flicked between Ian, who glared at him with barely restrained fury, and Bucky, whose calm voice cut through the tension like a knife.

“He—he knows I’m dealing drugs on campus,” the barista stammered, fear creeping into his voice. “I’m afraid if it gets out, I’ll be expelled from university.”

Bucky’s expression shifted slightly, a flicker of distaste crossing his face. “Drugs, huh? That’s a big no in my book.” He paused, letting the tension build before adding, “But… what if I make sure no one ever hears about your little side job?”

The barista blinked in disbelief. “Really?”

Bucky nodded slowly, his tone almost fatherly. “As long as you do one thing for me—never let this man,” he gestured to Ian with a lazy flick of his hand, “step foot in this café again.”

“Done,” the barista replied quickly, relief flooding his face. “And, uh, you’ve got my vote too.”

Bucky smiled, shaking the young man’s hand. “Thank you.”

Turning back to Ian, Bucky’s smile turned into a smirk, the satisfaction dripping from his voice. “Did you see that? That’s the difference between us. You blackmail people. I make deals that last.”

Ian’s glare deepened, his voice trembling with anger. “Politicians and journalists have one thing in common: information. You manipulate it, just like you did with this poor kid. It’s no different from what I do.”

Bucky’s laugh was low and amused, as if Ian’s words barely registered. “Oh, there’s a difference.” His eyes gleamed with cold certainty. “I have power. And the information I gather ages like fine wine. It only gets more valuable with time.”

Ian took a step closer, his voice bitter. “Just like the way you’re using her.”

Bucky chuckled, shaking his head as though Ian had made a naive remark. “That’s where you’re wrong, Ian.” He turned his back, walking toward the door without another glance. “This isn’t just about her, or you, or even my brother. This is bigger. But you’ll never see that.”

With that, Bucky exited the café, leaving Ian standing there, fists clenched, seething but helpless.

Outside, the air was crisp, and the low hum of the city wrapped around him like a blanket. Bucky strode to the car, his every step deliberate, his mind already shifting to the next move.

As he reached for the car door, he paused, surprised to see you waiting inside. He raised an eyebrow, a flicker of curiosity crossing his face. “I thought you’d already left.”

You glanced at him, your expression unreadable. “I just finished talking to Tim. Told him not to meet with Ian again.”

Bucky’s lips curled into a small smile, one that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Good.”

You leaned back in the seat, watching him carefully. “What did Ian say?”

Bucky slid into the car, the door closing behind him with a soft thud. He adjusted his cufflinks, his movements slow and meticulous. “He’s angry. Desperate. But that makes him predictable.”

You studied him for a moment, unsure whether to feel comforted or wary. “You really think he’ll just back down?”

Bucky turned to you, his eyes gleaming with that familiar intensity. “People like Ian don’t back down. But they also don’t win.” He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. “He’s playing a dangerous game. But I have the upper hand. Always.”

You crossed your arms, narrowing your eyes. "You're not afraid? Especially since he knows about our messy marriage."

Bucky leaned back in his seat, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. "I want to see him try."

"It'll affect the election," you pressed, your voice low but sharp. "Didn’t you say before that you're scared too, if it gets out?"

He paused for a moment, his gaze steady, then leaned forward, folding his hands on the table between you. "What I'm afraid of is how it'll affect you."

You blinked, caught off guard by the unexpected response, but he didn’t let you linger in the surprise for long. Bucky straightened his tie, that calm, calculating tone slipping back into place. "Come on," he continued, "nobody cares about the Vice President. Especially when Steve takes office. All eyes will be on him. I’ll be a shadow at best."

His nonchalance irritated you, but you could see the gears turning in his head, every word measured, every sentence layered with meaning. He wasn’t just dismissing Ian’s threat—he was planning around it, strategizing.

But you weren’t convinced. "And what happens when he digs too deep? When he finds something even you can't control?"

Bucky's smirk returned, his eyes gleaming with that familiar, dangerous edge. "Let him dig. The deeper he goes, the more he'll realize he's out of his league."

He got up, slipping his hands into his pockets, the image of absolute power and control. "This isn't a game of who's right, sweetheart. It's about who plays the board better."

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

The next day, Greg arrived early in the morning, pounding on the door without pause. The relentless knocking echoed through the quiet house, pulling you from your sleep.

You opened the door, eyes still heavy with sleep, and found Greg standing there, pale and wide-eyed, clutching a newspaper tightly in his hands.

"What's wrong?" you asked, a sinking feeling forming in your stomach.

Greg didn’t say a word, just handed you the newspaper. The bold headline hit you like a punch to the gut:

"SILENT DIVORCE SHOCKS PUBLIC: Y/N LEFT BLINDSIDED BY BARNES' LIES"

“Bucky!” you screamed his name, your voice trembling with disbelief.

Bucky, who was just finishing up in the bathroom, emerged with a calm demeanor, a towel draped over his shoulder. He glanced at you, then at Greg, his expression unreadable.

“What’s going on?” he asked, though he clearly already knew.

You pointed at the newspaper, your heart racing. “This... they know everything about the divorce. It’s out there!”

Bucky stepped closer, taking the newspaper from your hand and scanning the article with a level gaze. “I was expecting this,” he said matter-of-factly, unfazed by the revelation.

“Expecting it?” You felt a surge of frustration. “How can you be so calm? They’re painting you as the villain.”

He shrugged slightly, his posture relaxed. “This is Ian’s doing."

Greg shifted awkwardly, glancing between the two of you. “This could seriously damage your campaign, Bucky. We need a plan.”

Bucky nodded slowly, considering. “We turn this around. We don’t deny anything outright, but we frame the narrative. Make it about my commitment to you, how you’ve been resilient in the face of adversity.”

Then, as if a light bulb had gone off in his head, Bucky added, “Tell them she’s pregnant.”

You and Greg were dumbfounded, staring at him in disbelief.

“Are you serious?” you finally managed to ask, incredulity lacing your tone.

Bucky nodded, a small, confident grin spreading across his face. “Think about it. It shifts the narrative entirely. The public will sympathize with you, and it puts me in the role of the protective husband. We can spin this into a story of love and support.”

You shook your head, a sense of unease washing over you. “No, Bucky. I can’t go along with that. I won’t lie about something like that. It’s unethical, and what if they find out?”

“Then we’ll deal with that when it comes,” he replied, his voice steady. “Right now, we need to act fast. We can’t let Ian control this narrative any longer.”

Greg looked between the two of you, uncertain. “This is a huge gamble, Bucky. Are you sure you want to push this?”

Bucky waved a hand dismissively. “This is politics, Greg. It’s about perception. If we can manipulate the story in our favor, then we do it.”

“But it’s still a lie,” you insisted, feeling a knot tighten in your stomach. “I can’t just pretend to be pregnant for your campaign. It’s wrong.”

Bucky narrowed his eyes slightly, irritation flickering across his face. “It’s not wrong if it serves a purpose. This is about protecting your future, our future. We can’t let Ian tear us down.”

“By lying?” you shot back, frustration mounting. “That’s not how I want to do things, Bucky.”

He sighed, clearly growing impatient. “Tell them she’s pregnant, Greg. We need to control this narrative. The longer we wait, the more damage Ian can do.”

Greg hesitated, glancing at you for guidance. “Are you sure about this, Y/N? Because once we go down this road, there’s no turning back.”

Bucky's eyes remained fixed on Greg, unyielding. “Just do it. I’ll handle the fallout.”

You felt a wave of dread wash over you. Bucky’s resolve was intimidating, but you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was a path you weren’t willing to take.

“Survival only for you. Not for me,” you shot back, your voice steady but the tension in your shoulders betraying your inner turmoil.

Bucky leaned in slightly, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made your heart race. “I see you keep changing your mind. Didn’t you forget you wanted us to win?” He raised an eyebrow, a smirk playing on his lips, as if he reveled in the challenge of bending your resolve.

You felt a whirlwind of thoughts crashing through your mind, the weight of his words pressing down on you. You had dreamed of victory, of standing beside him in triumph, yet this wasn’t the way you envisioned it. The idea of lying about a pregnancy felt like a betrayal, not just to yourself but to everything you believed in.

“Welcome to the game of politics, babe,” Bucky said, his voice dripping with a mix of amusement and challenge, leaning back in his chair as if this were all a mere chess match to him.

His nonchalance only fueled the fire inside you, and you clenched your jaw, unwilling to let him see how deeply his words affected you. “This isn’t a game, Bucky,” you replied, your voice firm, trying to assert your stance amidst the chaos swirling around you.

He shrugged, an air of indifference surrounding him. “To me, it is. And you’d do well to remember that.” The corner of his mouth quirked up, as if he had already won this round, leaving you questioning whether you were truly ready to play his game.

“What, are you still calm? Don’t you worry this will affect Steve?” you asked, your voice laced with incredulity.

He chuckled softly, a glint of amusement in his eyes. “I love your innocence in this.”

You felt bewildered, the confusion evident in your furrowed brow. “What do you mean?”

“Seems like Steve hides his skeletons better than I do. Even you, a journalist, didn’t know,” Bucky replied, his tone casual but with an underlying intensity.

“What?” you pressed, leaning in closer, eager for clarity.

Bucky leaned back against the counter, crossing his arms, a confident smirk playing on his lips. “The other reason why Steve chose me is to distract everyone from him. That’s our deal.”

You blinked, grappling with the implications of his words, feeling the weight of the political game you were both entrenched in.

You swallowed hard, the realization settling heavily in your stomach. He’s right. This is all a game. Every move, every conversation, calculated like chess pieces on a board.

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[jeonscatalyst]

LET’S TALK ABOUT “ARE YOU SURE?!”

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

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

*Jimin listens to Jungkook

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

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

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

*Jungkook is more verbally expressive around Jimin.

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

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

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

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

*Jikook truly enjoy spending time together

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

*Jikook have an insane amount of Inside Jokes

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

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

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

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

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

It’s just the little things….

Little 5 year olds playing after lights out😂

*Jungkook loves making Jimin laugh

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

* Jimin finds Jungkook very endearing

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

*Jikook just get each other

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

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

(First clip from this compilation)

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

Touching his head

Playfully zooming into his face with the camera

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

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

* Jungkook likes zooming into Jimin’s face

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

*Jimin is Jungkook’s Jungkook!

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

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

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

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

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

* Jungkook loves to cook for Jimin

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

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

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

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

*Taekook and Jikook are NOT the same.

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

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

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

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

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

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

*Jikook are so domestic

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

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

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

Whatever this conversation was……

I don’t know what goes on in their minds

Whatever this was

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

*Jungkook is inlove with FOOD!

He looks at food like true love😂

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

Whatever this was…..

I mean….

This taken out of context…..

Hmmmmmm……

*Jikook like to bicker

They bicker sometimes like an old married couple

*Jimin and Jungkook loved their trips with each other!

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

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

[borathae]

↳ Index [Snippet #51 - Sad Boy]

"When Jungkook comes home sad from work and you cheer him up."

Genre: Fluff, Slice of Life

Warnings: mention of losing one's partner to death, Koo is a sad boi after work, but she cheers him up, he is a little shit and she is just as much of a little shit, hehe they're annoying <3, and sooooooo in loveeee!!!, casual non-sexual nudity, backhugs with non-sexual fondling of the teeds, he is just the cutest <3

Wordcount: 1.8k

a/n: i was struck by the random thought that ogc!koo would most definitely cry to his wifey if one of his customers had a tattoo wish with a sad backstory, so this snippet was born hihi he is actually the patootiestest <3 i luv him <3

You didn’t have work today and therefore made dinner. Jungkook should be home any second now and you are really excited for it. You made some of his favourite tonight because you wanted to make him happy. Not that there is a day where you don’t want to see him happy, but you felt like surprising him tonight.

Bam has been in the kitchen with you when his ears suddenly perk up. He lifts his head and sniffles, then suddenly stands up from where he was resting to run away. You know exactly what this means. Jungkook is home. 

Feeling like greeting him by the door tonight, you follow Bam. 

You find him and Jungkook in the hallway. The latter is kneeling, hugging Bam as tightly as possible. 

“Hey there, my sweetheart”, you greet him. 

Jungkook lifts his head, giving view to his teary eyes. 

“Did you cry? What happened?” you gasp, instantly jumping into worried mode. “Kookie baby, what happened?”

Jungkook stands up and closes the distance, “I had a really sad day”, he says, hugging you tightly. He lets out small sound, melting into you.

“No, I’m sorry to hear this. Did something happen that made you sad?” you ask him, holding him and rubbing the back of his head.

“Yes”,  he squeaks out, having to sob. 

“Noo Googie, I’m here. Let it all out.”

“___ you, you can’t ever die. You have to promise me to, to never die.” 

“I mean that’s a rather ambitious wish. Why are you asking me that all of a sudden?” 

Jungkook coughs out a sob, making a sad sound.

“Let’s sit down first, okay?” 

“Yes, okay”, he whimpers.

You guide him to the living room, sitting down next to him and holding his hands. The walk from the front door to the sofa gave him enough strength to finally tell you what made him so incredibly sad today. He does so with his head lowered and his sweaty hands clasping yours as if he needed your touch to survive.

“I had a customer today and, and he wanted a tattoo and it was”, his voice quivers in tears, “it was his wife’s star sign and then I started and he cried and told me that his wife died a week ago and that he wants to keep her with him always. It was so sad”, he whimpers, “he cried through the entire session and I cried with him and it made me so sad and made me think of how it would be lose you and, and you can’t die, ___ please you have to let me go first, I can’t go through losing you.”

“Oh Kookie, you sweetest person you”, you breathe, scooting closer to drape your arm over him, “this must have been such an emotional moment. I’m sorry that you had to go through this.” 

“It was so sad. I had to, to take breaks because I kept crying so much”, he drops his head on your shoulder, “my head hurts so bad and I have ringing in my ears. I’m sad, please can you promise me not to die before me?” 

“So I should deal with you losing you?”, you ask in a chuckle. 

“Yes.”

You laugh. He laughs with you, but sniffles vividly.

“You’re a doofus.”

“A really sad doofus.” 

You snicker, kissing his forehead.

“Mhm, I promise you that I won’t leave you for a long time. I don’t wanna think about this day for too long because it’ll make me sad too, but I promise you it’s still going to be a long time till it happens.”

“I promise you too. And I love you so much. You’re my soulmate and my best friend and my life partner. Everything I do, I do for you.” He lifts his head, cradling your cheeks. His eyes, although teary, are filled with love. “Life for me began when I met you. I knew from the very first moment I saw you in Seokjin’s diner that I loved you. And ever since that moment, everything I did was for you. I love you, ___, I always have.” 

“Oh god Googie, I love you too.” You cup his cheeks. “My soulmate, my best friend and my parter for life.”

Jungkook smiles, leaning into your touch.

“Also my cute, sappy doofus.”

He giggles, agreeing with a nod.

“If I didn’t tell you how I felt tonight, I would have imploded. Witnessing my customer grieve so deeply really hurt me. I felt his pain as if it was mine.”

“Of course you did. You have such an empathetic, loving soul. I’m sure that he felt deeply comforted to be understood this way. I’m sorry that it made you feel so sad though.”

“Thank you”, he mumbles and sniffles, “I feel better already. Talking about it really helped. Thank you for listening. I love you  so much.”

“I love you too and I’m always happy to listen. We’re a team, we go through everything together.” 

He nods his head, eyes softening. 

“Maybe we could die together. When we're old like in- Oh no I’m crying again - like in The Notebook. ___, I’m so sad”, he wails, throwing his head back dramatically. 

“Gosh you, come here”, you chuckle fondly, hugging him again. 

“They were so in love and went together. I can’t do this today.”

“Gosh you, it’s okay. I’m right here.” 

“I can’t do this, please just melt into me.”

“I’m trying, I really am”, you tease, ruffling his hair. “You know I love you, don’t you?”

“I love you too, so much.”

“And I made Tangsuyuk tonight with lots of different sides.” 

“Wow, Tangsuyuk”, Jungkook whispers, forgetting all about crying at the mention of his favourite dish. “My favourite. Thank you so much.”

“Of course, everything for you my darling.” 

He lifts his head, letting you wipe his tears and snot.

“No, don’t. It’s yucky.”

“It is. So yucky”, you agree and scrunch your nose, “you snotty baby you.” 

A shy smile washes over his face. It morphs into a shocked gasp when seconds later you wipe his snot into his shirt.

“Did you just wipe my snot on my shirt?”

“Mhm I did”, you grin, standing up to run away from him, “what are you gonna do about it?”

Jungkook feels his heart flutter. When you are being playful like this, he forgets all about his sadness. He jumps to his feet, chasing you all the way to the kitchen.

“Come here you”, he calls after you.

You squeak and increase your steps, making him laugh and do the same.

He catches up with you, swooping you off your feet. You squeal and cackle, throwing your head back in joy as he twirls with you. 

After the twirling he has the audacity to wipe his nose into your shirt, snickering boyishly at the yelp of complaint you let out. 

He sets you down, laughing giddily when you push him away gently.

“That was so much. Why did you have to do that? Eww I can literally see the slime stick to the fabric.” 

Jungkook laughs, throwing his head back and rubbing your waist. 

“Tch, you’re rancid”, you say, swiping his hands away. You pull your shirt over your head.

“Baby wow”, he gasps, eyes instantly landing on your bared chest. “No bra?” 

“We’ve been living together for how many years and you still get surprised that I don’t wear that shit at home?” you ask him, leaving the kitchen. 

Jungkook follows you. You take the stairs down to the cellar where you have your laundry room. It is a very beautiful and homely cellar and feels more like an underground living area than an actual cellar. 

“Your boobs never lose their power. Obviously I’ll keep being surprised by them”, Jungkook says.

You scoff in amusement, wiping some disinfectant on the fabric. Jungkook is going to do laundry tomorrow either way, but you just want to get rid of the worst. 

Suddenly you have two hands on your breasts and two arms around you, a naked chest against your naked back and lips on your shoulder. 

“What are you doing?” you ask him in a chuckle, leaning into his embrace. 

“Just making sure that you’re real”, Jungkook whispers, guiding his kisses up to your neck and ear. 

“And you had to take your shirt off for that?” 

“It was dirty too”, Jungkook says and takes your earlobe between his teeth to tug on it gently, giving your breasts a playful squeeze at the same time. 

You shiver and laugh at the same time, placing your hands over his’. 

“For someone who had a sad day, you’re being very touchy right now.” 

“I’m not trying anything just…” he sighs against your neck, wrapping his arms around you as tightly as possible, “...I get happy when you laugh. And if my goofiness makes you laugh, I keep doing it.”

“It does. You do. You make me laugh a lot”, you say, having to laugh a second later when he blows raspberries on your neck. “Not like this! I hate this, it tickles”, you squeal in giggles, fleeing him as he goes in for a second attack. “Jeon Jungkook, keep doing this and I’ll die right now out of spite.” 

“No, you won’t. I won’t let you”, he says, picks you up and sits you down on the laundry machine. He is between your legs, hands on your waist and lips claiming yours in a kiss. 

You smile and hum, tangling your fingers in his hair. He smiles as well, tugging on your lower lip before putting distance between your faces.

You cradle his cheeks, rubbing them softly. He leans into your touch, rubbing your waist. His eyes are spilling over with love and as he speaks, he does so in a soft voice.

“I just love being alive with you”, he says. He caresses your waist, your hips, your stomach and chest before landing on your face. “I love the way your skin feels, warm and soft. I love the way your hair falls, so beautiful and perfect. I love the way your eyes are so full of life and beauty and love how soft your lips are. You’re perfect and I love you.”

You smile, kissing his thumb as he guides it over your lips.

“I love you too, Kookie.”

“No but, I love you.”

“I love you too.”

Jungkook lowers his eyes shyly, “I’m sorry, it’s getting too much, right?”

You tilt his head back up, mirroring his adoring gaze, “this could never get too much, my sweetie.”

He smiles giddily.

“Although I do fear that dinner might be getting cold if we keep being so sappy.”

“Oh dinner! I totally forgot. Wow baby, I’m so happy to be home”, he says, widening his eyes dramatically and rubbing his own tummy, “I’m so ready to eat, wah baby seriously.”

You snicker, “me too, baby.” You jump off the washing machine and take his hand. “First I wanna put on a shirt though. I’m not down to get sweet and spicy sauce on my titties.”

“Why not? You have me. I can clean everything you get on your boobs. I promise, I’m an expert.”

“You’re a dork, that’s what you are”, you say in a chuckle and a fond roll of your eyes.

[sun-e-chips]

Wait…

Do the boys fluster easy? Like if y/n ever grew a backbone and said literally anything-

Like the smallest thing or like, taped a flower to suns rays or moons headdress (does it have a specific name please tell me if it does) how would the boys react?

I get a break because of the storm so I’m digging into my inbox! >:D

Great question! I would say yes to the boys flustering easy but they fluster differently if that makes sense.

Moon: Moon I would say flusters the easiest. Though he handles “flirts” from guests with ease, (giving a witty/charming one-liner to keep it professional and lighthearted) he knows it’s part of the job and nothing is serious, but if y/n did or said anything flirtatious to Moon he would freeze up XD

With guests this usually happens during luau’s between when he’s performing or working the bar. Moon realizes guests are just enjoying themselves and mean nothing inappropriate when they’re having fun with flirtatious banter, it’s part of his job to be engaging and pleasant so he doesn’t really mind. That’s why y/n showing any affectionate interest in him would come as such a shock, he never thought about someone being genuinely interested in him that way. Poor guy needs some time to adjust.

Sun: Now Sun is an oddball to me, I’m still trying to understand him and his emotions myself haha. Sun REALLY blurs the lines between platonic and romantic affection, he is in general a very loving guy. With guests personal space is a foreign concept to him, of course he is still very professional and can judge an appropriate situation/person, but he just has a talent for being able to connect with guests so their comfortable with his playful antics. With Y/N however his actions areeeeee a mixed bag I guess, (think of it like a magic fruit basket, Sun is giving you a variety of fruits in one package, if you choose to only take out oranges then it’s an orange basket, if you want to take out apples and oranges then it’s an apple and oranges basket, pick out whichever you like it’s all there but you don’t have to accept anything you don’t like, he’s letting you decide what you want your basket to be made up of) weird analogy I know but it’s what I thought of

Anywhoo for Sun to catch on that an act is flirtatious it has to be clear or at least catch him off guard! Little note here, Suns pupils disappear when he’s flustered from y/n. It’s a lil scary at first, in the illustrated instance this is the first time of this happening and it may be mistaken as Sun freezing but he was very much there and would have returned the gesture if not for the pool noodle -whack- lol

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Just One Reason: When We Met

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Lloyd Hansen

masterlist - to be added

Summary: A chance encounter at the sandwich shop doesn't end how you expect.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

As you approach the sandwich shop, another pedestrian comes up from the other side. You open the door and hold it for them, waiting patiently for them to go first. The place isn’t very busy, you can wait an extra turn to get your food. 

The man barely acknowledges you as he enters. You’re used to that. In the city, manners run down the gutters with the rain and litter.  

You follow him inside. As he stomps to the counter, poking his ear in agitation, you stand back in a single-person queue. You check the chalkboard menu for the soups of the day. Oh, cabbage. They make the best cabbage soup you’ve ever had. 

You bounce on your heels as your gaze wanders over the monochrome wall art over the handcrafted wood tables. You open and close the flap of your crossbody purse. Your father always said you flutter like a hummingbird. Never quiet still and a little skittish. 

Behind the glaze of your distraction, the man’s deep snarl breaks through. You blink and lean to see around him. The cashier bats her lashes and puffs out her cheeks, “sorry sir, we discontinued the Mexican wrap, but the chipotle is similar--” 

“I don’t want the fucking chipotle,” he cups his ear and growls as he pushes his head into his hand.  

“They don’t send us the cilantro lime sauce anymore, sir,” the employee explains. “But I could add some peppers--” 

“Can’t you understand me?” He snips. 

“Erm, if you... if you put a bit of cilantro on, it would be close, wouldn’t it?” You ask, cringing as your thoughts spill out without intention. 

The man glares over his shoulder as his cheek pits derisively. He squints and shakes his head. He throws his arms out and faces the cashier again. “Whatever. Give me the damn chipotle with cilantro. I’m starving.” He reaches back for his wallet, “some fucking week...” he mutters. 

He slides the leather wallet above his pocket but it catches and falls from his grasp. He growls and bends to retrieve it. “Another fucking thing...” 

You watch him pick up his wallet and finger his ear again. It seems to cause him pain. The cashier watches helplessly. You feel bad for both of them. It just seems like a miscommunication. 

“Um, excuse me,” you wave two fingers at the cashier. “Can you add a cabbage soup and I’ll for both?” 

The employee blinks and the man snaps up with a scowl. They both stand in silent surprise. He finally shakes his head. “Why would you do that?” His tone makes it sound like an accusation. 

“I don’t know. Seems like you’re having a bad day and I can?” You shrug and cautiously step forward, “can I also get an iced raspberry tea?” 

“Uhhhh, sure,” the employee keys in the items. 

“Sir, did you want a drink?” You twist back to the man as he stands aside with a leery squint. He just shakes his head. 

“Alright, that’s everything. No cookie today,” you dig in your purse. “Debit, please.” 

She hits total and you pay. The receipt juts out of the machine and you step to the side to wait with one last thanks to the cashier. You tuck your card away and slip your phone out as your hands long to fidget. You know the man is staring, you can feel it, but you don’t want to piss him off even more than he already is. 

The lull that follow is torturous. The man’s wrap is up first and you wait for him to take it. He hesitates and you hand it to him. 

“I hope it’s still good,” you say with a smile at his throat. You’re too scared to look him in the eye. 

“You know I have money,” he grits. 

“Oh, no, that’s not... it isn’t... just a nice thing. Like, maybe one day you can pay it forward. I don’t know,” you rock sheepishly and look behind the counter. 

He nods and backs up. The cashier puts your soup up and your iced tea. You thank her and take your food.  

“Have a good one, sir.” 

You shuffle away to the table in the corner. You sit, self-conscious as the man lingers. Is he mad? You don’t think you were rude. 

The man sighs and goes up to the counter, “hey, look, I’m... sorry,” his words are stiff as if he could choke on them. “Thanks for the wrap.” 

“Oh, uh, okay, sir,” the cashier sounds shocked. “Um, enjoy.” 

You stir the soup and blow away the steam. As you scoop up a spoonful, the man approaches. You look at the velvet toes of his loafers then follow them up. He sits without invitation. 

You stare at him and lower your spoon. 

“Thanks for the wrap,” he says. “I was being a—jerk.” The last word is stunted as if he meant to say something else. “Mind if I eat with you?” 

You look around. The place is empty. You shrug. 

“Sure,” you grab the iced tea and swirl the ice. “Be nice to have company, I guess.” 

He hums and shifts in the chair. He peels away the wrapper and you sip from the straw. You put the cup down and stare into your soup. Your eyes flick up again and you find him staring. 

“Lloyd,” he offers his hand across the table, “but you can just call me that jackass who yells at people.” 

You give your name in return, his change in tone soothing your nerves. 

“You been here before?” He asks. 

“Once in a while,” you say. “When I can afford it. It’s a special treat. They have good soup.” 

He nods and looks down at the wrap, “yeah, food is pretty decent.” He lifts the wrap but doesn’t bite into it. He hovers it before him. “You know, you didn’t have to be nice to me.” 

“You never know what other people are going through. Sometimes, they just need some kindness,” you say. “And if they’re just a butthole, well, you’re not going to change that by matching their energy.” 

His brows arch, and he tilt his head. He sucks in his cheeks thoughtfully, “well, I think I’m just a butthole, as you put it. Thanks for giving me a chance.” 

You don’t know what to say. It’s awkward. You usually eat alone. You don’t have anyone to eat with, not since dad passed. Still, not all change is bad, is it? You’ve already faced the worst kind of change. 

You lean forward and take a bite of your soup. Sometimes making someone’s day easier makes your own a little brighter. As of late, none of them have been more than gloomy. 

[mini-mews]

to the beat of your heart

enhypen lee heeseung x gn!reader

wc: 1.1k

summary: heeseung meets you outside after avoiding you at a house party, when you just happen to call him the wrong name that throws your whole relationship into question.

warnings: non-idol au, alcohol/drugs mention, heeseung is toxic, kinda situationship vibes- reader and heeseung's relationship is unclear, no happy ending

a/n: First off thank you so much to my lovely @inkchwe for beta reading and helping me edit. I want to turn this into a sort of series of toxic enhypen so please look forward to that!!

toxic love series masterlist ✰ heeseung ✰ jay ✰ jake ✰ sunghoon ✰ sunoo ✰ jungwon ✰ ni-ki

THIS DOES NOT REFLECT THE ARTIST'S BEHAVIOUR OR ACTIONS - THIS IS A WORK OF FICTION

✰࿒ ჻࿒ ჻✧࿒ ჻࿒ ჻✰

Loud music reverbs through your body as you try to stabilize your breathing. Tapping your foot against the patio, you wait for Heeseung to join you outside. It's been 10 minutes since you texted him, seeing him read and not respond feeding into your anxieties. A million thoughts a second come and go too soon, building onto an already nauseous feeling. Music seems to match your rapidly beating heart as it bleeds out from the house.

It was only after you saw him coming through the door, a girl wrapped around his arm that really made your heart sink. Heeseung turned back and gave her a sweet smile, saying something that you couldn’t quite make out before she lets go of him. She leans up to whisper in his ear, biting back a smile as he nods. 

He finally turns to you standing a few feet away, not before allowing his eyes to follow the girl swaying her hips as she walks back inside. You clench  your jaw as he walks up to you, a lazy smile playing on his lips, “What’s up sweetheart?” 

“Where have you been? I’ve been texting you for the past 10 minutes trying to find you. And I saw you leaving me on read…” Attempting to keep your voice stable, you meet his eyes. Heeseung gives a little shrug before pulling out his phone, “Oh yeah sorry, was catching up with some old friends, must not have heard it buzz.” Quickly dismissing you, he opens a chat and replying to someone else.

“It’s fine I guess, Hee. Can we get going? It’s already getting late and I have early classes tomorrow.” Suddenly his fingers stop typing, seemingly frozen as he stares at his phone. 

“Hee? Are you okay?” Stepping closer till your chests are almost pressed together, his eyes snap back to meet yours. 

“What did you call me?” 

Heeseung’s eyes are now boring into yours. His stare feels so intense you unconsciously sink into yourself a bit. “Uh I- I said your name?”

“You didn’t. You said something else. What did you say?” Heeseung’s voice comes out short and blunt.

He closes the distance, almost glaring down at you with how cold his eyes had become. The height difference had always been noticeable between you two but now it felt like he was towering over you, completely isolating you both from the rest of the world. The music buzzes into the background as your heart drums in your ears. 

“Hee? What’s wrong with you, I don’t unders—" "That's what's wrong, why are you calling me that?” 

The silence is deafening, suffocating. 

“What are you talking about? It’s your name! Am I suddenly not allowed to say your name? Seriously, I don’t know what's up with you, but I just want to leave, so can we—” 

“We?” Heeseung stares down his nose at you, eyebrows furrowed, “Listen you can go home if ya want, but I ain’t leavin’ yet. I got some friends waitin’ for me.” 

It must be the alcohol, that’s the only logical reason you can think of. Or maybe he took something? Heeseung was never known for his drug use, but maybe something happened tonight when you two got separated. “What’s going on with you? Did you take something?” Heeseung just stares down at you, eyebrows still furrowed. “What’s going on with you?” That question makes you stiffen up, his tone was ice cold as he looked through you. You had never felt so small in front of him. 

The few months you’ve gotten closer to Heeseung, he’s never been so cold with you. Always making an effort to be gentle towards you. It was one of the first things that drew your attention, Heeseung’s famously known ‘bambi eyes’. Eyes that held such comfort, now holding you down in place under his gaze. 

“Hee?” It was barely a whisper but something glazed over his eyes. “What makes you think you can call me that?” It feels like something snaps in you. Nothing's made sense this entire night. “I don’t understand what you mean! ‘Hee’ is your name!” Your chest aches as your throat constricts, emotions overwhelming your body.

Everything is whirling around too quickly, nothing is making sense. 

“I never said you could call me that. Why are you acting like you’re allowed to?” A cool breeze blows through you, the music from inside still pumps through your veins. “Are you being serious right now Heeseung?” 

His eyes widened for a second seemingly taken aback by your reaction. “I told you why are you—” “Told me what?! That I’m nothing to you!” Tears flood your eyes but you refuse to let them fall. It’s a misunderstanding.

“So all our time together was nothing? Everything we’ve said, done for each other, nothing. You can’t possibly be saying that.” Your breathing gets labored as he cuts you off. 

“I told you at the beginning of us that I don’t want anything serious, yet you were the one who didn’t listen. How is that on me?” 

It feels like a bucket of ice water was just dumped on your head. Goosebumps rise across your arms. Looking up at him trying to meet his eyes, Heeseung looks past you.

How could he say that so casually?

A choked sob escapes you as tears streak down your face, chest squeezing all the air out of your lungs. It sets a sense of emptiness in you. Nothing. You were nothing to him. All the time spent together, the quiet whispers of romantic feelings, intimate nights together. 

Nothing. 

Everything you gave for him, crumbling before you. 

He feels too awkward to look at you, drumming his fingers on his jeans waiting for something to happen, for you to say something. But it never comes. Heeseung never expected this reaction from you, he told you that he didn’t want anything serious, it's really not his fault if you caught feelings. 

Looking up as Heeseung stood stiffly in front of you, refusing to acknowledge you. 

Your chest rises and drops quickly, trying to calm your breathing. You will yourself to not let him see you cry over him. Whispering out, one last plea to him.  “Heeseung look at me, please” 

Heeseung looks down meeting your eyes, those soft bambi eyes looking back at you. Those eyes you fell so in love with, now causing the burn of regret and hatred within you. “You’re heartless Lee.” Your blunt tone catches him off-guard as you push past him, making your shoulders bump as you return to the party. You allow yourself to get lost in the drunk bodies dancing to the heartbeat of the booming music. Eyes slide shut as bodies surround you, the air heavy of smoke as the music drums on, leading your heart beat.

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