#there’s no feeling of potential regret or uncertainty

[bonny-kookoo]

Jungkook

Princess | Limits [Final]

There's only so much he can take.

Tags/Warnings: Wolfdog Hybrid!Jungkook, Showdog Hybrid!Reader, Enemies to lovers, Angst, Fluff?, Brat!Reader, Jungkook has major brat tamer energy, misunderstanding, smut, (slightly) mean Dom kook, a slap to the thigh, uh, knot is mentioned, it's nasty, unprotected but MC is mentioned to be on birth control, he holds her by the throat? Idk he also has his fingers in her mouth-

Length: 5k Words

There is no taglist for this fic.

-> Masterlist

A/N: This will act as a final chapter. The main story is therefore wrapped up- but as always, if you want drabbles, you can still request them.

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Jungkook has never understood the phrase of your ‘heart stopping’- because how could it ever? You’d be dead in that case. But right in this moment, he finally gains the knowledge by experiencing it first hand- eyes wide open and body frozen.

Why are you in his bed? Barely dressed, snuggled up to him who’s only in his underwear?

He thinks through the whole process of yesterday to make sense of this. Did you both get potentially drunk last night? No, not at all. You and him had simply packed your things to drive you to your parents hours away, after having contacted them and told them about everything. He remembers driving you there himself, unloading your bags, leaving you there after waving and driving off. And added to that, that was not last night. It was almost an entire week ago.

He hasn’t seen you in days. So what are you doing here?

It’s not a dream either, clock on his nightstand ticking away, world outside going about its day as the window isn’t all closed to let some fresh air in at night. And yet, you’re there- bare legs entangled with his, arms holding onto his.

He doesn’t really feel alarmed by the fact that you somehow entered his apartment- you know where he lives after all, and you know the passcode to his door, so it’s not really surprising at all. But what he is questioning is why you’re here- and why you’re in his bed, most of all. Has he forgotten some conversation you might’ve had? Or has something happened to make you so upset that you were craving the comfort of him at any cost?

Now he’s worried.

Shaking you a little to wake you up seems to not be very effective- because you just frown, slap his hand away and bury your face right back into his shoulder as if he’s nothing but an annoying fly. “I know you’re awake.” Jungkook tells you, and at that you actually open one of your eyes, looking up at him with your tail wagging beneath the covers. “What’re you doing here?” He asks, and you frown again turning onto your back to look up at him who’s sat up by now.

“Why do you sound so upset about that?” You complain with almost a pout in your tone, arms crossed. “I thought couples love reuniting.” You say, and he looks at you, confused.

“Couples?” He questions, and you nod, now visibly unsure as well.

“Well, yeah?” You say, attitude fading and being replaced by uncertainty. “I mean.. we haven’t said the L-word yet, but like.. I thought..” you start, scanning his face for any sign that he realizes what you believed you two were. “..since you uh.. called me baby in the car..” you drift off, and still- there’s no sign of anything on Jungkook’s face as he thinks, and digs around in his memories for the correct moment he might’ve said that. He did, maybe. But he doesn’t remember.

“did I?” He asks, and regrets it the moment he watches the shame visibly wash over you- from the way your ears pin back to the slight change in your gaze, he knows he fucked up by saying it loud- and he’s a little too late as you roll out the bed and run for the bathroom after picking something up from the floor, hiding away now. “hey- wait.” He asks, getting up to walk towards the bathroom floor, knocking on it just to not get an answer. “I’m sure it’s just a misunderstanding-“ He starts, trying hard to calm you down- but it’s clearly not working as the door opens, and you slip right past him to run towards the door where your shoes are. “Hey no- stay, let’s talk-“

“Nuh-uh, nop, this is so embarrassing-“ You rant, visibly frustrated over the shoes not closing fast enough as your hands are too shaky to really tie them. So you just make a simple knot and stuff the laces into the corners, before a tattooed hand snatches your other shoe from you. “give that back!” You bark, not looking at him however as you reach for the shoe he’s holding too high for you. “stop-“

“stop, exactly. Don’t run off now, I’m sorry if I said something that made you think we were more than we are.” He explains, and you visibly deflate at that, ears down low just like your tail. “let me get dressed, and we can talk, okay?” He asks again, and you just shrug.

He sighs as he puts down the shoe and leaves to tug a shirt and pants onto himself- before he realizes his mistake too late-

Door already slamming shut, your jacket the only thing you left at his place.

Fuck.

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He’s been knocking since forever it feels like- but even at his third visit today, you refuse to open the door.

You still got a week left in your apartment- but he knows from first hand experience that you got almost no furniture at all in there anymore, so this can’t be an option for you to sleep at. He doesn’t want you to be upset at him- and in hindsight, he really could’ve worded things a bit better, but he’s still new to this as much as you are. “please let me in.” He requests once more as he’s done so often today, sighing. “I missed you too, you know?” He tries this time around, and to be honest, that’s not even a lie.

Its odd how at first glance, he never thought he’d ever get along with you. But having you gone for almost an entire week, he really felt the way you’d somehow snuck into his heart- every task back to being mundane without you causing a little chaos in his daily life here and there.

“That’s a lie.” You say, door open just a crack to glare at him through.

“Its not.” He denies. “I just think we never actually talked about what we want to be- so I was surprised to just.. have you turn up out of nowhere in my bed.” He chuckles a little, and you just look down to the floor in shame.

“M’ sorry.” You apologize. “won’t happen again.”

“What if I want it to happen again?”

Your gaze snaps up at him at that, confused. “I was just a bit caught off guard, and honestly worried. Did something happen at your parent’s?” He wonders, and you sigh, opening the door to let him into the almost entirely unfurnished apartment- a pile of clothes and a blanket being the last items that were probably used as a makeshift resting spot for you today laying in the corner of the main living room. You sit down there, before letting yourself fall to the side as if exhausted, before you shrug, Jungkook sitting on the floor across from you. “it was.. I don’t know.” You admit. “I love them. And I was really super happy to see them again, and spend time there..” you explain, before you pull the blanket between your fingers to have something to hold onto while you stare into nothingness. “But it was.. really a lot.. I don’t know how to explain.”

“I guess that’s normal. You know, being overwhelmed with it.” Jungkook sympathizes. “I’m exhausted too after spending a day or two with my entire family-pack. Nothing to worry about.” He explains, and you just nod, still avoiding eye contact. “I think what’s important now then, is what we are to one another. You can’t just break into my apartment and sneak into my bed without formally asking me out, you know?” He jokes, but your glare is filled with embarrassment.

“Now I don’t want to anymore.” You huff, before you turn around- and at that, Jungkook feels an odd rush underneath his skull, fueled by your subtle and underlying confession in your words.

“You love me though, don’t you?” He asks, leaning in closer as he sits near you now, a hand on your shoulder. “all you need to do is say it.” He chuckles, as you curl up more into yourself as if that would hide you.

“And then what?” You huff. “You’ll-“

“I’ll say it back.” He cuts you off. “or I’ll say it first, it’s no issue. At this point it’s pretty obvious that I’m starting to fall in love with you.” He easily spills, and you freeze before you slowly unravel, turning to look at him over your shoulder with a face full of wonder.

“You are?” You ask hesitantly, and he smiles, before he nods.

“I am.” He responds, confirms his words and you sit up at that, facing him now. “are you?” He wonders, and you nod.

“I am.” You answer, and he laughs.

“See? Nothing to be scared of. Now come on, I’m not letting you sleep here.” He says, standing up with you to pick up your stuff-

Unaware of the absolute Rollercoaster he just signed himself up for.

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Jungkook did not know what he got into when basically confessing his growing feelings.

His mundane life is pretty much over at this point, with you always around and currently basically having moved in until you can figure out if this works or not. After all, you’re not used to living with someone else- and it’s clear that no matter what, you’re the opposite of an angel, still trying your tricks on him to make him dance around like you want him to.

But Jungkook isn’t this easy to control. And in a way, it’s a little fun to see how much you can get away with.

“Jesus christ, put some clothes on.!” Jungkook curses as be spots you laying on your stomach on his couch, in nothing but a simple top and underwear, tail wagging. The wolf hybrid has to turn away, distract himself with the task of turning the volume of the TV lower, while you just don’t understand what his fussing is all about, game on your little console in your hands on pause.

“Why?” You ask because of that, not sure why he’s being so overly dramatic in your opinion. It’s just your legs, maybe your butt. So?

“because- just put at least some pants on.”, he groans, and you roll your eyes, before you continue your game instead.

You’re not listening. And he’s not sure if it’s your character- or if you think his decreasing patience is funny to watch.

“Do I have to turn the wifi off to get your full attention?” jungkook asks a little irritated, and you shrug.

“Don’t care.” You respond, eyes on the little screen between your hands. “the game doesn’t need internet.”

Suddenly however, the console is taken out of your hands, as he saves your current progress, and puts it into the charging station near the TV. “Hey!” You complain, getting up now to rush towards him- and as he makes sure you can’t get to your precious game again, he notices that God fucking damn it, you’re not wearing a bra beneath this very flimsy shirt.

You’re really testing him.

“Put pants on.” He says, and you have the audacity to laugh.

“Nah.” You deny, stretching before you step away from him, walking towards the bedroom. “I’ll just take a na-“ you don’t get to say much else, as he suddenly tugs on your tail with just enough force to make it count- but nowhere near enough to hurt. “Hey!” You turn around instantly, just to be basically cornered by the wolf hybrid, who’s backing you into a wall in the living room.

“You’ve got a real smart mouth there.” He simply says, but it sounds like a threat almost-, a very specific kind of threat that makes your skin shiver. “But you tend to forget when to shut it, clearly.” He scoffs, as your back hits the wall, making you swallow your own saliva nervously.

But he can sense, smell, that this is affecting you not in the direction of fear- but something else entirely.

“You’re so lucky, you know?” He asks, somewhat- and you look at him with question. “I’m not usually patient like that.”

“What would you have done?” You ask, unable to really keep it in as you know that if you hesitate for just a second, you’ll never be able to say this out loud, ask for such things. You want them, but you’re also nervous, considering you’ve never actually gotten this far with anyone before. “Put me in timeout?” You almost challenge, tail beginning to sway a little with newfound confidence, when he just shrugs it off, and shakes his head.

“No.” He denies. “Brats like you need something that.. Lasts longer.” He words out, and at that, scenes manifest inside your head that make you visibly shy.

You’re not sure if he realized it yet, but a lot of the things you do, you do on full purpose. You like this game of push and pull, you think its exciting and fun- so you hope that with words like that, he means them as such, because that would mean that he’s both aware of the little game you’re playing, and also a willing participant in it.

You don’t want him to just feel like you’re made of porcelain, possibly breaking at the slightest touch.

“Such as?” You ask, and he leans in closer at that, almost unbearably so.

“fuck around and find out, Princess.”

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Turns out you can be sickeningly sweet almost when you really want to- currently happily laying on his stomach after helping him cook and wash the dishes after, awfully nice today and in a good mood.

It makes him wonder. Are you up to something? Or are you simply not who he thought you were? It would be just a slight bit disappointing, if he was to be honest- considering he’d actually grown quite fond of the idea of you with your ass spanked bright red, Jungkook basically having to work for your submission. But maybe you’re just all bark and no bite- just yapping around, nothing more than that.

Even that would be fine at this point, as long as he’s got you.

It’s when the male lead kisses the female love interest in the admittedly boring drama you both watch on TV, than he notices you staring at the scene. He’s notice too that at this point in time, one might think you would’ve kissed by now- but that’s not the case, neither of you seemingly brave enough to make that step towards the other. But it’s clear from the way you look at the scene in front of you with a shy sense of longing, that you want it- he just needs to find the perfect moment for it.

After all, he doesn’t just want to be any partner for you. He wants to be the one and only.

“I’m tired.” You yawn and stretch, arms above your head before you look at him. “can I get a goodnight-kiss?” You boldly ask, and Jungkook laughs, before he moves to basically lean over you entirely, hands pressing into the cushioning of the couch below you.

And then he finally leans in to peck your lips- or at least that was his intention. You chase after his lips and even move your hands to pull him back, making him act on instinct as he pushes them back, pins them down with his fingers around your wrists. But he has to admit, either the lip balm you’re using is sweet as honey, or he’s surely found the perfect person to kiss in you-

Because he doesn’t want to stop either.

“You said you’re tired.” He hums in when you break apart for just a second, and you shake your head.

“not anymore.” You deny his claims, making him chuckle.

“Not anymore?” He repeats, teasingly escaping your advances. You shake your head, as your legs move to rest around his waist, signals sent pretty clear to him as he watches you try and seduce him. “You’re right.. You’re clearly not yet tired.” He mumbles, as he leans down to kiss you again, letting himself be swept away by the moment, as you both just enjoy each other’s presence.

“Jungkook..” you whine impatiently, hips squirming around in search of any form of friction, while he just laughs under his breath.

“What do you want?” He asks. “this is our first time, after all. I don’t know what you like- or what you can handle.” He teases- though it’s clear that there’s an underlying truth to his words. This is indeed clearly going in a very obvious direction, and you feel warm inside knowing that he actually cares this much about your experience during this.

“I don’t know..” you admit. “I just.. always do it myself, so I don’t know.” You tell him, and he nods, accepting that as his kisses move to your neck, where he makes sure to leave his marks.

Because he wants you to be his, and his alone.

“how far do you want to go?” He asks, pausing his advances for a moment to look at you.

“All the way.” You tell him, and he nods.

“You sure?” He questions, and again, you nod- this time visibly serious.

“There’s no one I’d rather be with like that than you.” You say, and he soaks those words up like a sponge, before he leans back down to kiss you- softer now, more gentle, as if he’s savoring you and your open appreciation for him in this moment.

And he does. He really does.

And you know, through the softness of his touch and the slow and gentle manner in which he undresses you, that tonight, he’s going easy on you.

Tonight, he’s just going to show you real love.

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Something clicked into place last night.

As if he’s finally committed himself to you, he’s relaxed, comfortable and most of all; confident. And you’re strangely excited about this new side of him, because it’s unbelievably entertaining to play around with him now that he’s not holding himself back any longer.

Youre currently all laughing, some friend’s of Jungkook’s having spotted him at the grocery store with you, eager to get to know the girl who made him catch feelings. And you’re having a lot of fun hearing some embarrassing facts about your now boyfriend- who’s also laughing along, despite being the butt of the joke. Even when you make jokes about him too he doesn’t seem bothered-

Until a hand finds the back of your neck, fingers pressing down a little to make sure you know he’s got a good grip on you. And like a cat grabbed by its weak spot, you freeze, one look at him making you almost cower in public as his dark eyes gaze down at you. “yeah- but I think we’ll better head home now.” Jungkook decides to his friends, casually smiling while he says goodbye to his friends. And even when his hand leaves you, you’re strangely affected- waiting for something to happen, as he calmly brings the groceries to the car.

You must’ve gotten away this time, since he seems pretty relaxed on the way back home. Good thing you were in public.

However, once back inside your now shared four walls, things take a turn again when, instead of helping him unpack the groceries, you lounge on his sofa- TV instantly turned on as you watch, and Jungkook makes sure to put everything where it belongs by himself.

Your punishment follows late- but you know when it’s time.

The TV is wordlessly turned off, but you stop mid-breath trying to complain about it, because the smile he sends you is none of pure kindness. He looks almost like a villain ready to move on with his sinister plans, as he approaches you. “You think it’s funny, don’t you?” He asks, and when you don’t reply, he clarifies further. “you love getting on my nerves.” He states, and you have the audacity to shrug.

“What’re you gonna do about it?”

That was definitely your last mistake made- challenging him, well aware of how he will potentially punish you.

He’s quick to grab at your hips, no matter how fast you’d wanted to dash off. His grip is tight and secure as he carries you unto the bedroom, where he closes the door with his foot, putting you down on the big mattress. And there you sit- waiting, not sure what his silence means.

“Early bedtime, huh?” You scoff, trying to appear unimpressed.

“Its what you make of it.” He however answers. “this is your last chance to get on my good side, Princess.”

“or what?” You ask with an attitude, still not believing in hit bite at all.

Jungkook sits down at that, back against the door, eyes reflecting a little in the darkness of the bedroom. He’s a wolf, deep down, even if he’s mixed- he’s got time, and patience, and he knows it. He’s well aware that after yesterday’s endeavors, you’ve been trying to ‘seduce’ him all day long- wanting more, wanting it again, because as you’d told him last night, you ‘can’t do it the same he does’. It’s normal, as a hybrid-

And as someone like you in particular, who craves everything pleasurable in life.

You’re still sitting there, waiting, adjusting your position a bit, squirming under his watchful eyes. You’re not sure what he’s aiming at here, but it makes you a little uncomfortable-

Mostly because you can feel the way your underwear is soaking up your arousal over this entire situation.

“Go to sleep, baby.” He tells you with fake gentleness in his voice. “it’s late, isn’t it?”

“I don’t want to sleep.” You respond, and he chuckles.

“I know.” He tells you.

“Jungkook..” you whine, hoping this will be enough to break him. “I’m sorry..” you admit, ears drooping low, as you look at your lap in shame.

But he’s not fooled.

“try again, princess.” He simply says. “I know you’re not sorry.”

Fuck. What else could you do to get him to crack?

Manipulating him into doing what you wanted him to has worked in the past, so it shouldn’t be this hard. And he’s already seen you naked yesterday, so you don’t have to have shame about what you do next- moving your legs to give him a bit of a teaser to your soiled underwear beneath your skirt, feet digging into the bed below as you try and get under his skin this way.

“…can you help me?” You wonder, noticing how his eyes were captured by the sight for just a second.

“I can.” He nods, getting up to walk over to you- and your tail wags, triumph yours to claim. It’s still so easy to make him dance around like a puppet on strings, because down the line, he’s just another guy who’s quickly caught up in his own lust-

His face is inches from yours, eyes piercing into yours as he still got that wolfish smirk on his lips.

“But I don’t want to.”

Wait- that’s not part of the script.

“do it yourself, puppy.” He laughs, opening the bedroom door. “You know how to-“

“No!” You call out, making him turn his head over his shoulder to look at you. “I want you!” You argue, making him laugh.

“too bad.” He denies, and at that you get up, one leg out of the bed already. “get back on the bed.” He demands, and you huff.

“so you really putting me in timeout?” You scoff, stepping out with the other leg as well.

“You want to act like a brat so I’ll treat you as such.” He explains. “get back on the bed until I’m done cooking.”

“No.” You deny, walking closer.

He says your name, low and clearly in a warning, but you don’t care.

It’s then that your world turns upside down for a second, before you’re thrown back onto the bouncing mattress. You can’t help the sound that escapes your lips at his display of strength over you, a hand still on your arm to push you down. “does pissing me off make you that horny?” He asks, almost in a demeaning tone. “gushing into your panties just because you’re getting on my nerves, huh?” He continues, and your tail still wags.

“Its funny.” You admit, giggling, when a hand slaps your inner thigh, skirt having risen up to cover basically nothing anymore. “ah-!” You call out in surprise, making him laugh.

“it is.” He agrees. “it’s funny how you think you can play me.”

The next second, he’s tugging your underwear off of you, strings of sticky arousal still trying to hold onto the soiled fabric for a good stretch before the piece of clothing is thrown somewhere. “gotta get you off to make you listen?” He asks, agitated, hand between your legs a complete contrast to the gentle way he’s helped you reach highest pleasure last night. “gotta fuck you stupid so you’re finally a good girl for once?” He questions, and you just nod, frantically, overwhelmed by the way he pushes two of his fingers in already, thumb rolling over your most sensitive spot.

“Please-“ you start, but he only laughs down at you.

“Please? That’s a new sound.” He mocks you. His ruthless acts down settle down at all however- instead, he takes his hand away from you, and wipes it on his pants. You’re left alone, watching him, unsure what’s happening. “You ready to listen?” He asks. What an asshole. He knows exactly that in your state you’d accept anything-

“Why did you stop?” You whine however, and your downfall has been sealed.

Only moments later, as you try and escape, he’s on top of you, using his entire body to cage you in, hand around your throat- though he’s gentle enough to not hurt you at all. The hold he has still arches your back, pushes your behind right into him. And considering the fact that you’re on birth control, he doesn’t need to search for any other contraceptive right now, able to just pull himself out of his cotton pants, not needing much to get himself ready.

You whine in complaint when he pushes in. He knows it’s a bluff.

“oh shut up.” He growls into the back of your neck. “You can take it.” He states, well aware that you can. And it seems like finally, you’re quiet and compliant- if only after his fingers press down on your tongue, occupying your mouth with something other than whining. “so this is what it needs to shut you up?” He mocks you. “my cock inside, and my fingers in your mouth?” He purrs against your neck, and you just whimper pathetically.

His pace is steady, but he doesn’t even need to move anymore he notices- you’re for once doing all the work for him, bouncing on his lap like you’ve done this a million times already.

Your stamina does however not match up with his, as your thighs quiver, orgasm approaching you and causing you to lose tempo. Something he catches up on- taking over as he rolls his hips into you with dancer’s precision, while you emit sounds of pleasure the second his digits leave your mouth. You fall forward once he lets go of you entirely, spent.

“I’m not done with you yet.” He however days, as he manhandles you onto your back beneath him, hands tugging on your legs to move them exactly where he wants them. “wants to be fucked stupid but can’t even keep up with me.” He teases, shaking his head as he pushes his length through your thighs, remnants of your own arousal making the movement easy and slick. Your hands reach out sleepily, fingers touching the very tip every time it appears between your legs, and you giggle, visibly out of your mind.

But he notices something else too.

You look entirely relaxed, not even a glimmer of any of your usual insecurities present. You’re just existing in the moment, enjoying this, enjoying what he offers you, and nothing else.

Your head must really just be TV static.

You open your legs again, whining once more as he watches you reach for his hips- one orgasm not enough still, or maybe you just want to please him the best you can. He’s going easy on you this time, he decides, complying with your wordless demand to get back inside you, a wish he happily grants.

You don’t hold back, only shutting up when he leans down to kiss you, needy and chaotic, tongue and bitten lips. But once his hand is between you both, pushing you over the edge alongside him, you squirm once more- his release spilling inside of you, something swelling that you didn’t feel yesterday.

It’s him. He’s locking himself inside you to make sure you don’t spill any of it.

Which isn’t all that easy, since he appears to be a but of an overachiever- some of it already escaping you the second he softens up, cunt pushing out the translucent white as he pulls out of you.

You’re a mess.

Clothes somewhat still on, skin sweaty, opening between hour legs still gaping, clenching around nothing as your body calms down.

But, to be fair-

You also, finally, shut your mouth.

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“You can be so gentle!” You complain as he helps you put lotion on your skin after your shower, already back to your old self not even a couple of hours after.

“I can.” He laughs.

“But something tells me that you like it rough.”

Oh-

How right he is.

[ijustmissyouraccenths]

I Want To Kill Her (Part 2)

Au where Y/N and Harry are neighbors who find out their spouses are cheating with each other.

Based off Fortnight by Taylor Swift

Part 1

CW: Smut, cursing, unprotected sex, emotional abuse.

Word Count: 10,085

The months following the gut-wrenching discovery of Teddy's affair were a chaotic storm of emotions and turmoil. The idea of my spouse, the person I trusted most in this world, being unfaithful was unbearable. But without any concrete evidence, doubt enveloped me like a thick fog, suffocating me as I struggled to regain my footing. Though I desperately wanted to believe he wasn't cheating, the blatant signs and whispers from those around us made it impossible to deny the painful truth.

Rage and heartbreak battle within me as I struggle to forgive Teddy, to find a way to salvage our relationship. But each attempt is met with the painful memories of his infidelity, burning like acid through my veins. I'm terrified of losing my British citizenship, my sense of identity and belonging, if I leave him. And even worse, I dread the thought of calling my family and confessing the truth - that not only did Teddy betray me with another woman, but in some sick twisted way, I am also to blame. My family adored him like a son, and he gave me a life beyond my wildest dreams. How could I ever reconcile these conflicting emotions?

Harry's sudden decision to divorce Rosie sent shockwaves through the once peaceful fortress of their home. In just a week, he had packed his bags and walked away, leaving behind a cold and empty shell that was now up for sale. As new potential buyers roamed the halls, I couldn't help but feel a sense of betrayal from Harry's abrupt departure. The last time I saw him was in a dingy motel room, where we spent a desperate night together before he vanished without a trace. His disappearance was calculated and cruel, fueled by his seemingly endless wealth and power. Meanwhile, I was left with nothing but uncertainty and the option to return home to Florida. But Harry's resentment only grew as I hesitated to make a final decision. He wanted me to walk away with no regrets, but real life is messy and complicated - far from the neat and tidy ending he desired.

I was trapped in a prison of a house, held captive by a man who claimed to love me but had truly only created a tangled web of chaos and pain. We forced ourselves into therapy every week, desperate to salvage something from the wreckage he had caused. But even after all the sessions, I still felt like I was drowning in the suffocating grip of his selfishness. It was never enough, and I could feel my sanity slipping away with each passing day.

Evenings rolled into nights and days blurred into months. Each moment seemed agonizingly long as I begged time to fly quicker, to wash away the stale taste of betrayal and deception from my existence. The house that once echoed with laughter and love now felt eerily silent, its walls whispering Teddy's betrayal during the quietest hours. My heart ached in ways I never knew possible, each pulse a reminder of the pain he had caused. 

In a bid for relief, I threw myself into cooking elaborate meals, organising closets, watering the drooping plants Teddy had once loved. Yet every activity was tainted with the memory of him - his laughter rings in my mind as I repeat chores we used to do together. It was a desperate plight to keep myself sane amidst the storm that threatened to break me down.

Teddy's unfaithfulness took its toll on my spirit, but Harry's abandonment shattered me entirely. I played over our last night together again and again in my mind. There was something feral about that night; lust mixed with desperation and an underlying tone of finality. He left without any explanation, disappearing like a ghost only leaving behind the faint scent of his cologne and a raw wound that refused to heal.

The cracks were beginning to show. Laughter seemed forced, smiles rarely reached my eyes. The weekly therapy sessions felt more like an interrogation than relief, talks of my own explicit night replaying session after session. Hours spent scrutinizing every detail of our dysfunctional relationship only amplified my misery. Every shared secret, every stolen glance, every whispered promise – all now seemed meaningless and distorted under the harsh scrutiny of reality.

In the end, it was not Teddy who broke me; it was me who had allowed myself to be broken by him. My judgment clouded by love hindered me from seeing the man he truly was – a master manipulator cloaked in charm and charisma. The truth was painful to accept but liberating in its own cruel way. I was no longer in denial. I was no longer the woman who would bend over backwards to accommodate the whims of unfaithful men. I was stronger than my heartbreak, stronger than their deceit. And most importantly, I learned the toughest lesson of my life – not all love is meant to be cherished; sometimes, it's better left discarded.

As I sat in the therapist's office, the stark white walls closing in around me, my voice cracked as I attempted to verbalize the turmoil within me. "I just don't understand how it got to this point," I admitted, tears threatening to spill over.

Dr. Richards leaned forward, her gentle gaze meeting mine with empathy. "It sounds like you've been through a lot of pain and betrayal," she said softly. "But remember, healing begins with acknowledging the truth."

I nodded, wiping away a stray tear that escaped down my cheek. "I know, but it's so hard to let go of everything that was once so real to me."

Dr. Richards offered a kind smile. "It's okay to feel that way. It's all a part of the process." She paused before continuing, "Have you considered what you need to do to move forward from this?"

I took a deep breath, the weight of the question settling heavily on my shoulders. "I... I think I need to start by forgiving myself for allowing this to happen. For not seeing the signs sooner."

The words hung in the air between us, heavy with unspoken pain and regret. Dr. Richards reached out and placed a comforting hand on mine. "Forgiveness is a powerful tool, both for yourself and for others," she said gently.

I closed my eyes, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. "But how do I forgive someone who shattered me into a million pieces?" I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Dr. Richards' voice was steady and reassuring as she replied, "Forgiveness doesn't mean forgetting or excusing their actions. It means releasing the hold they have over your heart and mind."

As I sat there, grappling with the weight of forgiveness, a million thoughts raced through my mind. Dr. Richards' words lingered like a balm on my wounded soul, but the path to healing still seemed daunting.

"I understand that forgiveness is crucial, but how do I even begin to untangle the mess he left behind?" I asked, my voice wavering with uncertainty.

Dr. Richards leaned back in her chair, her expression thoughtful. "It's a process, one step at a time," she said gently. "Start by acknowledging your pain and allowing yourself to feel it without judgment."

Tears welled up in my eyes as I nodded, the emotions swirling inside me threatening to spill over. "It's just so hard to let go of the anger and hurt," I confessed.

She nodded in understanding. "Anger is a natural response to betrayal, but holding onto it only prolongs your pain. Remember, forgiveness is not for his benefit, but for yours."

Her words struck a chord deep within me, resonating with a truth I had been avoiding. "I want to move forward, but I don't know where to begin," I admitted, feeling lost in the sea of my own emotions.

Dr. Richards reached for a tissue and handed it to me with a gentle smile. "Start by being gentle with yourself," she advised. "Forgiveness is a gift you give yourself, a release from the burden of carrying someone else's actions."

I took the tissue gratefully, wiping away my tears as her words sank in. "I never thought of it that way," I murmured, feeling a glimmer of hope amidst the pain.

She gave my hand a reassuring squeeze. "You are stronger than you realize. Forgiveness is not about condoning what he did; it's about setting yourself free from his grip on your heart."

As I sat there, enveloped in Dr. Richards' compassion and wisdom, a sense of peace washed over me. The road to forgiveness may be long and arduous, but with her guidance and my own resilience, perhaps one day I could truly let go and embrace the healing that awaited me.

The following weeks were a whirlwind of emotion, a rollercoaster of highs and lows. I spent many sleepless nights replaying old memories, wrestling with anger and regret. But with each passing day, the burden on my heart felt lighter. I began journaling my thoughts, pouring out my hurt into ink instead of letting it fester within me. And despite the painful contents, there was a strange sort of relief in seeing my emotions spelled out on paper.

"Writing can be therapeutic," Dr. Richards had suggested during one of our sessions. "It provides a safe space to confront your feelings, as raw and as tumultuous as they may be."

Within the quiet sanctuary of my mind and the solitude of my room, I started to delve deeper into myself; into the wounds that had been inflicted upon me and the ones I had unknowingly inflicted upon myself. The process was painful but cathartic. For each tear that fell onto the pages of my journal, there was a tiny piece of pain and bitterness being released.

Days turned into weeks, and slowly but surely, I found myself becoming less consumed by his betrayal and more focused on my healing. I started attending group therapy sessions where I met others who bore similar scars – our shared experiences bound us together in a circle of empathy and understanding.

In those group meetings, I realized that pain was universal but so was resilience. Listening to others narrate their journeys of recovery ignited a spark within me. I saw mirrored in their stories my own strength and determination to rise above the ashes.

One day, while looking at myself in the mirror after another group therapy session, something remarkable happened. Staring back at me was a woman who looked familiar but different—a stronger version of myself; a survivor. My reflection no longer showcased the woman betrayed by love but instead revealed a woman who had found strength amidst despair.

“I am not just a victim,” I whispered to my reflection, the words filling the room with a newfound determination. “I am a survivor.”

The following week in Dr. Richard's office, I found myself recalling this moment with a sense of pride. "I am starting to see changes," I admitted, a small smile tugging at the corner of my lips.

She returned my smile, her eyes filled with warmth and encouragement. "Change is a testament to your strength and resilience," she responded. "You're embracing this journey with courage, learning to forgive not just him, but yourself as well."

Her words felt like a beacon of hope guiding me through the foggy path of recovery. While the pain still lingered like an unforgotten ghost, each day it seemed less potent than before. I was indeed learning to forgive—forgive him for his betrayal and forgive myself for my blindness to his deceit.

As our session ended, I left Dr. Richards' office feeling lighter than when I had come in. With every step away from her office and every step towards home, I was journeying farther from the woman who had allowed herself to be broken by betrayal and closer to the woman who had found strength in her own resilience.

Journaling had become my safe haven, a place where I could pour out my deepest thoughts and emotions without fear of judgment. But that sanctuary was shattered when one day, in a rush to make it to therapy on time, I left my journal open on the bed. My heart stopped when I returned to find Teddy holding it, his eyes scanning the pages filled with my most vulnerable moments. In an instant, my privacy was invaded and my trust was broken.

The tense silence in the room shattered as Teddy's furious voice pierced the air, causing my heart to skip a beat. I watched helplessly as he held my journal in a white-knuckled grip, his eyes scanning the pages with growing anger. "What the actual fuck is this?" he bellowed, his face contorted with rage.

I stood frozen, my mind racing to find the right words to diffuse the escalating situation. "Teddy, please put that down," I pleaded, my voice barely above a whisper, but he ignored me, his expression dark and menacing.

With a sharp intake of breath, I lunged forward to grab the journal from his hands, but he deftly sidestepped me. The tension crackled between us like electricity, each heartbeat echoing in the turbulent silence that enveloped the room.

"You've been writing about our sessions? and Harry?" Teddy's voice was laced with accusation, his gaze burning into mine with searing intensity.

I felt a surge of defiance rising within me as I squared my shoulders. "It's none of your business," I shot back, my tone sharper than intended, but I refused to back down in the face of his intrusion.

His jaw clenched as he took a step closer, his towering presence casting a shadow over me. "None of my business? You've been documenting our private moments, our struggles! How you also fucked the neighbor?" His voice rose with each word, reverberating off the walls like thunder in a storm “As if that little fucking photo he sent while fucking you, my wife, wasn’t bad enough”.

I could feel my own anger building, fueled by his violation of my privacy. "You have no right to invade my thoughts like this and last I checked, you were the one who started cheating," I retorted, the words dripping with resentment and hurt.

The atmosphere crackled with tension as we stood locked in a battle of wills, neither willing to yield ground. The air grew thick with unspoken accusations and grievances left festering beneath the surface.

"You think you can just hide behind your journal and play the victim?" Teddy's voice was laced with contempt, his eyes boring into mine with an intensity that sent shivers down my spine.

My fists clenched at my sides as a surge of defiance coursed through me. "I am not playing anything! This is my way of coping with everything you've put me through, let’s remember who started this mess," I shot back, my voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside me.

His laugh was harsh and bitter, cutting through the charged atmosphere like a blade. "Coping? Is that what you call it? Writing about how I've destroyed you? This is pretty much a sex book." His words were like daggers aimed straight at my heart.

The room seemed to shrink around us as we faced off in this battle of words and wills. Every breath felt heavy with unspoken truths and buried emotions that threatened to erupt like a volcano on the verge of eruption.

"I trusted you," I whispered hoarsely, tears stinging at the corners of my eyes as the weight of his betrayal bore down on me like a crushing weight.

Teddy's expression softened for a fleeting moment before hardening once more. "Trusted me? Look where that got you," he sneered, a cruel twist to his lips betraying the depths of his callousness.

The walls seemed to close in around us as the fight escalated into a tumultuous storm of emotions and accusations. Each word exchanged felt like a blow to an already fractured foundation that threatened to crumble under the weight of our shared pain.

The rumble of thunder outside echoed the turmoil inside as our voices rose in a crescendo of anger and hurt. The room pulsed with an energy so charged it felt as though lightning might strike at any moment, igniting a fire that would consume us both.

"I'm tired of being your punching bag," I declared, my voice firm with newfound resolve.

Teddy's face contorted with fury. "You think you're innocent in all this?" he shot back, his words like venom dripping from his lips.

The air crackled with electricity as we faced off in a battle neither willing to concede. It was a clash of egos and emotions, each word exchanged fueling the fire burning between us.

"I won't be silenced by your guilt-tripping," I retorted, my voice cutting through the charged atmosphere with precision.

Teddy's eyes blazed with rage as he took a step closer, his breath hot against my skin. "Guilt-tripping? You've been playing the victim since day one," he accused, his voice dripping with contempt.

The room seemed on the verge of imploding as our tempers flared and our voices clashed in a symphony of discord. It was a battle of wills and wounded pride, each unwilling to yield ground in this war of words.

"You'll never own up to your mistakes," I accused, my voice tinged with frustration and anger.

Teddy's fists clenched at his sides as he glared at me with unbridled fury. "Mistakes? You're the one who shattered everything we had, we could’ve come back from this. You didn’t have to fuck the first guy you saw!" he roared, his words echoing off the walls like thunder on a stormy night.

The fight raged on like an unrelenting tempest, each word exchanged adding fuel to the fire burning between us. The air crackled with tension as we stood face to face in a battle that threatened to consume us both.

“You know what? I’m done,” I seethed, my voice rising to a fever pitch. "I'll find a place to stay and it sure as hell won't be here!" My fists clenched at my sides, nails digging into my palms as I glared daggers at the person in front of me. The fury coursing through my body threatened to consume me, but I welcomed it, fueled by sheer determination to escape this toxic environment.

I took a deep breath and tried to steady my shaking hands as I dialed Bella's number, she was the first close friend I had made in London. The phone rang for what felt like hours before she finally picked up.

"Hey, Bella. It's me," I said, trying to keep my voice steady despite the turmoil raging inside of me.

"Hey, what's up?" she asked, her voice filled with concern.

"I need a place to stay for a while. Can I crash with you?" I blurted out, not wanting to beat around the bush.

Bella didn't hesitate. "Of course! What happened?"

"It's a long story," I replied, tears threatening to spill from my eyes again.

"Don't worry about it. Just come over whenever you're ready," she said reassuringly.

I thanked her and hung up the phone before splashing some cold water on my face in an attempt to compose myself. Taking one last look at myself in the mirror, I unlocked the bathroom door and made my way back to the living room.

Teddy was nowhere in sight, probably still seething from our argument. I quickly grabbed my backpack and stuffed some clothes and toiletries inside before heading out the door.

The fresh air outside helped clear my mind as I made my way towards Bella's house. As much as I wanted to stay strong and not let Teddy get to me, his words still stung like open wounds.

I couldn't believe how things had escalated so quickly between us. We used to be inseparable, but now it seemed like we were nothing but strangers living under the same roof.

My thoughts were interrupted as I arrived at Bella's house. She greeted me with open arms and led me inside as Bella and I settled down on her cozy couch, surrounded by the warmth of her living room, she handed me a mug of hot tea. The familiar scent of chamomile filled the air, soothing my frayed nerves.

"So, spill it. What happened between you and Teddy?" Bella asked gently, her eyes reflecting genuine concern.

I took a sip of the tea, feeling its comforting warmth seep into my bones. "It's just... we had another one of those fights about the cheating. The same patterns repeating over and over again. I don't think we can fix this anymore," I admitted, feeling a heavy weight lift off my chest with each word spoken.

Bella nodded knowingly, her empathy palpable. "Sometimes things reach a point where they can't be salvaged, no matter how much we try. It's okay to walk away if it's for your own well-being," she reassured me, her words like a balm to my wounded spirit.

Tears welled up in my eyes as I gazed at my friend, grateful for her unwavering support. "I just feel lost, you know? Like I don't even recognize myself anymore in all of this chaos," I whispered, the vulnerability raw in my voice.

Bella reached out and squeezed my hand reassuringly. "You're not alone in this. You have people who care about you, who want to see you happy and thriving. And remember, sometimes in letting go, we find the strength to rebuild ourselves," she offered with a gentle smile.

Her words resonated deep within me, a glimmer of hope flickering in the darkness that had clouded my heart. I wiped away the tears that had escaped and mustered a small smile in return.

"Thank you, Bella. For everything," I expressed sincerely, feeling a sense of gratitude wash over me for having such a supportive friend by my side.

The early morning light blazed through my window, a stark reminder of the emptiness that awaited me. With a heavy heart, I resolved to find a job, anything to fill the void left by my crumbling marriage. But even as I searched for employment opportunities, my thoughts kept drifting back to Harry. My desperation to know how he was doing gnawed at me like a festering wound, but there was no way to reach out and ask. As I sat in silence, I couldn't help but imagine the different path my life could have taken if I had chosen Harry over Teddy. The image of us together haunted me, a cruel reminder of what could've been. But now it was too late, and there was no turning back from the pain and regret that consumed me.

My fingers danced across the keys of my laptop, typing and retyping cover letters and resumes. The monotony of each hopeful submission echoed the emptiness in my heart, seemingly endless echoes spiraling into a void. To distract myself, I brewed a strong cup of coffee, the familiar smell offering an odd comfort in the chaos that was now my life.

As the day wore on, my efforts bore no fruit. Each potential employer remained a stranger to me, their responses automated and cold. As darkness began to creep into the room, a sense of defeat washed over me and I closed my laptop with a sigh.

I poured myself another cup of coffee, this time opting for the solitude of the balcony to nurse it. The city below shimmered with life just as it always did, indifferent to the turmoil of one seemingly insignificant inhabitant. Despite the layers of concrete and glass that separated us, I felt strangely connected to those anonymous lights - distant beacons in the abyss.

A haunting melody wafted up from somewhere far below, a soulful duet between an old saxophone and an even older piano. The notes danced through the fragmented night air, weaving stories of love lost and found again. Each note was a phantom whispering bittersweet tales into my ear.

Just then, an unexpected sound cut through my thoughts - the shrill ringtone of my phone nudged me back into reality. My heart clenched as I saw Teddy's name flash across the screen. He hadn't called since our fallout; what could he possibly want now? Nervously biting my lip, I answered it. On the other end of the line Teddy’s voice trembled with an emotion I couldn’t quite place; regret perhaps—or was it desperation?

My heart raced as I hung up and blocked Teddy's number. It was a small act of defiance, of reclaiming control over my life. But in that moment, it felt powerful.

I took a deep breath and leaned against the balcony railing, feeling the cold metal press against my cheek. It was a reminder that I was still here, still alive despite the pain and chaos swirling within me.

But even as I tried to convince myself that cutting off all contact with Teddy was for the best, doubts crept into my mind. What if he really did want to talk? What if he wanted to apologize and make things right?

I pushed those thoughts away, refusing to let them cloud my judgement. I couldn't afford to let him back into my life, not when I was finally starting to move on.

With new determination, I went back inside and resumed my job search. As midnight approached and exhaustion began to take hold, I allowed myself a moment of weakness and checked my email one last time.

A spark of hope ignited within me as I read the email from my job recruiter. It informed me that there was a hiring event happening downtown tomorrow and I had been invited to attend. My heart raced with excitement - this could be my chance to finally land a job.

I quickly confirmed my attendance and began mentally preparing for the event. As much as I hated the thought of going out into the world and facing potential rejection, I knew it was something I had to do.

The next morning, after meticulously picking out an outfit and rehearsing what I would say, I set out for downtown. The bustling streets were a chaotic blend of people rushing to work and tourists taking in the sights. As I walked among them, a sense of anonymity washed over me - just another face in the crowd.

Eventually, I reached the building where the hiring event was taking place. After taking a deep breath, I stepped inside and made my way towards the designated area.

The event was packed with job seekers like myself, all eager for a chance at employment. Despite my nerves, I felt emboldened by their determination and pushed forward to talk to employers.

One after another, I introduced myself and handed out resumes with practiced ease. Some showed interest while others dismissed me without a second glance. But instead of feeling defeated by rejection, I soldiered on with renewed purpose.

Hours passed in this manner until finally, just as hope began to wane, someone took notice of me. It was an HR rep from one of the top companies in town, Pleasing.

My heart pounded as I realized this could potentially lead me down the path to seeing Harry again. But I quickly pushed those thoughts aside and focused on the present moment.

The HR rep from Pleasing seemed impressed by my credentials and asked me to come in for an interview the following day. I couldn't believe it - this was exactly the opportunity I had been waiting for.

As I walked out of the hiring event, my mind raced with excitement and nerves. Part of me couldn't help but wonder if Harry still lived in the area, but I quickly shut down that line of thinking. It didn't matter - all that mattered was that I had a chance at a job.

The next day, I arrived at Pleasing's office early, dressed in my best professional attire. The receptionist greeted me with a smile and directed me to the HR department.

I shook myself out of my reverie as the HR rep called me into their office for the interview. Despite my nerves, I answered their questions confidently and highlighted my experience and skills.

As the interview progressed, I could feel the HR rep becoming more and more impressed. The questions became increasingly challenging, but I faced them head-on, demonstrating my knowledge and quick decision-making abilities. 

Slowly, the discussion moved on to my potential role in Pleasing and how I saw myself contributing to the company's future. Here, I outlined a comprehensive plan that included innovation, team synergy, and a commitment to meeting corporate objectives. The HR rep listened attentively, occasionally interjecting to clarify or probe deeper into my responses.

The interview concluded on a positive note and I was told that they would get back to me in a week's time. As I left the building, I felt a sense of accomplishment but there was also an underlying excitement - the possibility of crossing paths with Harry and being able to leave Bella’s to find my own flat.

A week passed in a blur of anticipation and anxiety, each day inching closer to the call from Pleasing. When it eventually came through, my heart skipped a beat. They were pleased with my performance during the interview and wanted me on board.

And so began my journey with Pleasing - a journey that was filled with arduous tasks, demanding projects, and incredible opportunities for growth. The work environment was fast-paced but rewarding, pushing me to work harder each day.

One afternoon, a couple of months into my role at Pleasing, I saw him from afar. It was Harry - my former neighbor and one night stand. He looked just as I remembered him: sharp-witted and focused in his tailored suit, there was an air of high authority about him.

My heart raced as I watched him stride through the office, making his way towards the executive level. Memories of our time together flooded back to me - the late nights he spent on top of me, the way he felt, the way he touched me, how he smelt expensive.

Lost in my thoughts, I suddenly realized that I needed to find a way to meet with him. But how? As a junior employee, I didn't have easy access to top executives like him.

Determined not to let this opportunity pass me by, I approached my manager and asked if there was any way I could have a meeting with Mr. Styles. She gave me a skeptical look but promised to see what she could do.

A few days later, she called me into her office with a smile on her face. "I spoke to Mr. Styles' assistant and they have agreed to give you 15 minutes next week," she said excitedly.

My heart skipped a beat at the thought of seeing Harry again after all this time. But what would I say? What would he think of me now?

The day of the meeting arrived and I nervously made my way up to the executive level. As soon as I stepped into Mr. Styles' office, my nerves disappeared - it felt like no time had passed between us at all.

As I cautiously entered his dark office, my heart pounded in my chest. The scent of tobacco and whiskey filled the air, mingling with the intense aura emanating from Harry's piercing green eyes. I could feel his gaze burning into me as I made my way to a chair by his desk.

"Y/N," he growled, his voice low and dangerous. "I saw the name and couldn't believe it was you, bloody hell."

A chill ran down my spine at the iciness in his tone. Memories flooded back of our tumultuous past, the love and betrayal that had torn us apart. But now, standing in front of him again, I couldn't deny the powerful pull that still existed between us.

"Harry," I managed to say, my voice barely above a whisper. "It's been a while."

He leaned back in his chair, studying me with an intensity that made my insides churn. "Indeed it has, Y/N," he remarked, his eyes never leaving mine. "I must say, I never expected to see you here."

I shifted uncomfortably under his gaze, feeling the weight of unspoken history hanging between us. "I didn't expect to be here either," I admitted, my voice tinged with a hint of regret.

He raised an eyebrow, a flash of something unreadable crossing his face. "And yet fate has a funny way of bringing people back together, doesn't it?"

I nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirling inside me - longing, apprehension, and a spark of unresolved desire. "It seems that way," I said softly.

Harry leaned forward slightly, his expression softening imperceptibly. "Tell me, Y/N," he began, his voice quieter now. "What have you been up to since we last crossed paths?"

I took a deep breath, trying to gather my thoughts amidst the whirlwind of emotions his presence evoked. "Well," I started hesitantly, "I've been working here at Pleasing. It's been challenging but rewarding."

A flicker of interest sparked in his eyes. "Impressive." He paused for a moment before continuing, his tone contemplative. "And what made you seek out a meeting with me today?"

I met his gaze squarely, steeling myself against the vulnerability creeping in. "I wanted to reconnect," I confessed quietly. "To clear the air and maybe... find closure."

Harry regarded me thoughtfully for a moment before speaking again. "Closure," he echoed softly. "Perhaps that's something we both need. And Teddy?"

My eyes drop to the ground, avoiding his penetrating gaze. "It's a messy situation, but I had to leave. I've been crashing at my friend Bella's place until I can scrape together enough money for a divorce."

His voice drips with insinuation and I feel my skin prickle with unease. "Oh, how convenient," he sneers. "I knew eventually you would come to your senses, although I thought our night together would have been enough to break you free." My stomach churns at his words.

The atmosphere in the room grew heavy with unspoken tension as their words hung in the air like charged lightning bolts ready to strike.

"You had no right to think that one night could define me or my decisions." I spat.

Harry's eyes flashed with a mix of surprise and something darker as my words cut through the tension between us. "And what right did you have to enter my life again after all this time, Y/N?" he countered sharply, his jaw clenched in frustration.

I squared my shoulders, meeting his challenging gaze head-on. "I didn't come here seeking your approval, Harry," I retorted, my voice steady despite the turmoil inside me. "I came for myself, to find closure and move on."

He leaned forward, his expression unreadable as he studied me intently. "Closure," he repeated, the word hanging heavily between us. "Is that truly what you need? Or is there something else driving you here?"

A flicker of vulnerability crossed my features before I could stop it, and I felt exposed under his piercing scrutiny. "Maybe it's both," I admitted quietly, feeling the weight of years of unresolved emotions pressing down on me.

Harry's gaze softened slightly, a hint of understanding creeping into his eyes. "I see," he murmured, a touch of regret coloring his tone. "Perhaps we both have demons to face before we can truly move forward."

I nodded slowly, acknowledging the truth in his words. "Maybe so," I agreed, a sense of resignation settling over me. "But facing them together might be easier than doing it alone."

Silence enveloped us for a moment, broken only by the sound of our breathing mingling in the charged atmosphere of the room. Finally, Harry spoke again, his voice softer now. "I never stopped thinking about you, Y/N," he confessed quietly. "Despite everything that happened between us."

My heart clenched at his words, memories flooding back with a force that left me breathless. "I never forgot you either," I whispered, a bittersweet ache settling in my chest.

A myriad of emotions played across Harry's features - longing, regret, and something else I couldn't quite decipher. "Then perhaps we owe it to ourselves to confront the past and see where it leads us, Pleasing has a nice legal plan I can lend to you for a divorce." he suggested tentatively.

I met his gaze, seeing a glimmer of hope reflected in those intense green eyes that had once been my undoing. "Maybe we do," I agreed softly, a sense of anticipation stirring within me.

I stood outside the courtroom, my heart racing with a mix of nerves and anticipation. Today was the day I had been waiting for - the day I could finally end this marriage and start a new chapter in my life. But as I took a deep breath and stepped inside, my eyes were immediately drawn to the sight of Teddy sitting at a table with his lawyer, confidently flipping through some papers.

Next to him sat Rosie, her perfectly styled hair and expensive outfit standing out like a sore thumb among the drab courtroom surroundings. She smiled smugly in my direction as if she knew something I didn't, and suddenly all my confidence wavered.

My lawyer squeezed my hand reassuringly as we walked towards our side of the court, but I couldn't help feeling like an underdog in this battle. How had Teddy managed to go back to Rosie so quickly while still begging for me just a few weeks earlier? And how long had this been going on?

As we began the proceedings, I listened half-heartedly as their lawyer presented their case - painting me as an unfit wife who refused to support her husband's successful career. The lies stung, but I held back from speaking out.

It wasn't until it was my turn to speak that I found my voice. My lawyer had prepared a strong case for me - highlighting all of Teddy's infidelities and emotional abuse throughout our marriage. As I spoke about his controlling behavior and manipulation tactics, Rosie's smug expression faltered.

But when it was time for Teddy to speak, he denied everything with such conviction that even I started doubting myself. His words were smooth and calculated, painting me as an unstable woman who couldn't handle his success.

I felt my anger bubbling up inside me - how dare he twist the truth like this? But before I could say anything, Rosie jumped in with her own version of events. She talked about how supportive Teddy had been during their brief affair, and how I was just a jealous ex who couldn't move on.

As Rosie spoke, her words felt like sharp knives twisting in my chest. The betrayal and deceit were too much to bear, she was the one who was sleeping with my husband. I clenched my fists, trying to hold back the flood of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. But then, a familiar voice cut through the tense atmosphere.

"Objection, Your Honor!"

I turned to see my lawyer standing up, his expression firm and determined. "These allegations are baseless and unsubstantiated. My client has provided ample evidence of Mr. Teddy's infidelity and emotional abuse. I request that these false claims be stricken from the record."

The judge nodded solemnly, looking at Teddy and Rosie with a steely gaze. "I will not tolerate false accusations in my courtroom. Stick to the facts."

Teddy shifted uncomfortably in his seat, a flicker of uncertainty crossing his face. Rosie, on the other hand, remained composed, a smug smile playing on her lips.

"I have evidence that will prove my client's case, Your Honor," she declared confidently. "I request permission to present it."

The judge nodded again, signaling for Rosie to proceed. She stood up gracefully, producing a stack of papers from her briefcase.

"These documents show that Mr. Teddy was out of town on the dates in question," she began, flipping through the pages with ease. "He could not have been at the locations alleged by Mrs. Y/N."

I felt a sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach. Could it be true? Had I been mistaken all along? Her proof was just texts from Teddy to her saying he was out of town. Which proves nothing, if anything it was more incriminating.

But then, just as doubt started to creep in, a sudden realization hit me like a bolt of lightning.

"Your Honor," I interrupted, my voice trembling but resolute. "I have proof that Mr. Teddy and Ms. Rosie colluded to fabricate alibis and deceive me. They were working together against me all along."

The courtroom fell into stunned silence as I presented the evidence that exposed their treachery. Teddy's face drained of color, while Rosie's mask of composure finally cracked.

"I-I can explain," Teddy stammered, but it was too late.

The judge slammed his gavel down with finality. "Case closed. Divorce granted in favor of Mrs. Y/N. You are to pay her a monthly settlement of alimony."

As I walked out of the courtroom, a weight lifted off my shoulders. It was finally over - the lies, the betrayal, the manipulation. I could start anew with a sense of freedom and clarity.

And as I glanced back one last time at Teddy and Rosie, their faces twisted with defeat, I knew that justice had been served. 

Waiting outside of the courtroom was Harry with a grin, he did a sassy wave to Rosie and Teddy.

"Congratulations, Y/N," Harry said, wrapping an arm around my shoulders and kissing the top of my forehead. "You did it."

I couldn't help but smile, feeling a sense of relief and satisfaction wash over me. "I couldn't have done it without you, Harry. Thank you for everything."

"Always, love," he replied with a gentle smile.

As we walked out of the courthouse hand in hand, I couldn't help but feel grateful for having Harry by my side. 

"I'm so glad this is all over," I said with a sigh, leaning into him as we reached his car.

"Yeah, me too," he agreed, unlocking the door and helping me inside before making his way to the driver's seat.

As we drove away from the courthouse, I couldn't help but feel a sense of closure. My marriage may have ended in betrayal and deceit but now I was free to move on and start over.

"So what's next for you?" Harry asked as we drove through the city streets.

“ I think we should celebrate.” I looked at him with a playful smile.

"Celebrate?" Harry raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. "And what did you have in mind for this celebration, Mrs. Y/N?"

I grinned mischievously, leaning over to gently tap his knee. "Oh, nothing too wild. Maybe just a quiet dinner for two at a cozy little bistro."

"A quiet dinner, hmm?" Harry's smirk grew wider. "And what about later, when we're no longer 'quiet'? Any ideas for that celebration?"

"Well," I purred, eyeing him up and down playfully. "That all depends on how good of a date you turn out to be."

"I'll have you know," he countered confidently, "that I'm an excellent date."

"Oh really? And what sort of things do excellent dates do to impress their partners?" I challenged him with a teasing glint in my eye.

Harry chuckled softly before leaning closer to me. "I believe the key to impressing you, love," he whispered against my ear, sending shivers down my spine, "lies somewhere between your pasta and your dessert."

"And exactly how do you plan on pulling that off?" I asked skeptically but with undeniable curiosity piqued within me. 

"Oh," he smirked wickedly as he brushed a strand of hair away from my face. "I'm sure I can come up with something...tasty."

We arrived at the bistro and Harry led me inside, his hand resting on my lower back. The smell of freshly baked bread and spices filled my nostrils as we were greeted by the friendly hostess. She guided us to a cozy booth in the corner of the restaurant before handing us each a menu.

As we perused through the options, I couldn't help but feel grateful for this moment with Harry. Despite the chaos that had been my life recently, he was there to make me smile and forget about all my worries. I was grateful to be able to be like this with him.

"You know," Harry said, breaking the comfortable silence between us, "I haven't had a proper date night in ages."

I smiled at him. Soon after the waiter came to take our orders and after much deliberation, we settled on sharing a few appetizers and ordering our own entrees. As we waited for our food to arrive, Harry reached across the table to take hold of my hand.

"I'm proud of you," he said sincerely, giving my hand a reassuring squeeze. "You handled everything with grace and strength."

I felt tears welling up in my eyes at his words. It meant so much to have Harry's support and encouragement through everything I had been going through.

"Thank you," I replied softly, unable to find any other words to express how much his words meant to me.

Our food arrived shortly after and we dug into our dishes with enthusiasm. We laughed and joked as we shared bites of each other's meals, savoring every moment together.

After dinner, Harry insisted on treating me to dessert at a nearby ice cream shop. We walked through the bustling streets hand in hand, enjoying each other's company in the warm summer night.

As we sat on a bench outside the shop, enjoying our ice cream. 

My voice trembles as I stare at Harry, regret and guilt weighing heavily on my chest. "I should've left Teddy that night after the motel," I confess, tears welling up in my eyes. "But I was scared. Scared of losing my residency, scared of facing my family's disappointment. I thought I could endure it for a while longer, or that he would be the one to leave first." My words choke in my throat, coming out as a desperate plea for forgiveness.

"I'm so sorry, Harry," I continue, my voice shaking. "I never meant to hurt you or lead you on. I was just...lost and confused."

Harry's expression softens as he takes in my words. He reaches out to brush away a tear that falls from my eye.

"You don't have to apologize, love," he says gently. "I understand why you stayed with him. But I wish you had told me sooner."

The guilt bubbles up inside of me, threatening to drown me in its heavy weight. How could I have been so blind and selfish? How could I have hurt someone who cared?

"I'll make it right, Harry," I promise him, wiping away the tears from my cheeks.

Harry's eyes light up with hope as he grasps my hand tightly.

"We'll face this together," he says firmly, determination evident in his voice.

And just like that, the burden on my shoulders feels a little bit lighter knowing that I have Harry by my side.

"It's okay," he whispers soothingly, kissing the top of my head. "You did the right thing.”

We finish our ice cream in comfortable silence before heading back to Harry's flat.

"Can I ask you something?" I say, breaking the silence.

"Of course," Harry replies, squeezing my hand reassuringly.

"Why did you never tell me your feelings before?" I ask, feeling a little hesitant.

Harry pauses for a moment before answering. "I didn't want to pressure you or make things awkward between us," he admits. "I wanted you to be happy and if that meant staying with Teddy, then I accepted it. So I left, I couldn’t see you in that situation."

Tears prick at the corners of my eyes as I realize just how selfless and understanding Harry has always been despite his hardened appearence. He truly cares.

"I'm sorry for being so blind," I say softly.

"It's okay," Harry reassures me. "We all make mistakes."

My heart was pounding as we entered the safety of his flat, my senses heightened by the lingering scent of his cologne. Our fingers traced each other's as he deftly made two cups of steaming tea, every touch sending sparks dancing up my arm.

"Would you like a touch of cream?" Harry asked seductively, a teasing smile playing along his lips. His sultry voice sent trepidating waves through me, igniting an insatiable desire that twisted in my belly.

The sight of him leaning casually against the kitchen counter, bathed in soft light, stirred a primal need within me. I watched as he poured a dash of cream into my cup. The way it swirled and mingled with the dark liquid mirrored our own dance - two intricate beings melding to form something far more tantalizing. 

"Thank you," I murmured, accepting the warm mug from his hand. My fingers brushed against his, eliciting a delicate shiver that rippled down my spine. "I couldn't have asked for anyone better..."

As we navigated our way towards the plush sofa, our bodies brushed together, the heat between us flaring like a bonfire on a cold night. The taste of our shared dinner still lingered on our tongues as we sipped on our teas; notes of cocoa and warm spices cascading over our taste buds.

He leaned back onto the couch, pulling me with him until I was nestled comfortably against his side. A silence fell upon us as we enjoyed our drinks; comfortable and yet teeming with an unspoken promise of what was to come.

"There's no rush," Harry purred into my ear, allowing his fingers to trace lazy circles around my wrist. His hot breath fanned out across my heated skin, setting off tremors beneath my flesh. "Let's just enjoy this moment."

His words washed over me like scalding water, igniting a yearning that threatened to consume us both. I finished my tea swiftly, setting the empty cup on the coffee table before turning back to Harry.

"Harry," I breathed out, staring into his deep emerald eyes. They were dark with desire, a mirror of my own want. "I want you...now."

With those words, our evening took on an entirely new flavor - one more intimate and fervently carnal than the most decadent dessert. And as I let go of all inhibitions and allowed myself to drown in Harry's love- the guilt and fear felt like distant memories.

Where there had been tears earlier now blossomed laughter and sighs of pleasure, echoing off the walls of Harry's flat. The heat between us couldn't be contained within mere cups of tea. It was a passionate flame that ignited every sense, searing through every inch of our bodies as we began to explore each other with newfound fervor and desperation.

The room seemed to shrink as my words echoed around us. I could feel myself growing wetter by the second, my heart pounding in anticipation of what was to come. Without another word, he stood up and pulled me close, our bodies pressing tightly against each other.

My hands found their way to his strong shoulders, digging into his skin as he claimed my lips once more. I moaned deeply into the kiss, tasting the tea we just drank on his tongue as he explored every inch of my mouth. His hands traveled down my back, over my ass cheeks, until they reached the hem of my dress.

I gasped as he lifted me off the ground with ease, carrying me towards the bedroom. My legs wrapped tightly around his waist, pulling him closer still. As we entered the room he kicked the door shut behind us, locking us in together.

As he backed me towards the bed, his cock growing hard, he paused to look down at me. His eyes dark and hungry as he took in the scene laid out before him. "You look so fucking sexy like this," he growled out, his voice rough with desire. I moaned in response, my fingers curling into the sheets beneath us as he lowered me onto the mattress.

His lips trailed hot kisses down my jawline and across my collarbone before moving southward. He nipped at my sensitive flesh while his hands explored every inch of my body, tracing patterns around my tits through the lace fabric of my bra. My breath hitched as his warm mouth hovered over my nipples, making them stand at attention.

"Please," I whispered, arching into him as he teased one of my hardened nubs between his fingers and thumb. His tongue circled around it before finally drawing it into his mouth, sucking on it with such force that I cried out in pleasure.

He pulled away slightly, looking down at me with a smirk that made my stomach do flips. "I'm going to fuck you so good, baby girl." His eyes bore into mine as he slowly undid his pants, revealing his already hard cock straining against his boxers. My mouth watered at the sight of him; all 8 inches of thickness glistening with pre-cum that reflected the light in the room.

I reached up to grab his shirt, pulling him down towards me as I wrapped my legs around his waist again. He groaned into the kiss, deepening it as he lowered himself onto the bed between my spread legs. His teeth grazed against my bottom lip before trailing hot kisses down my neck and chest.

"Fuck," he muttered under his breath as he reached behind me to undo the clasp holding together my bra. It fell away from me revealing puckered nipples begging for attention which he eagerly obliged by taking one into his mouth while pinching the other between two fingers causing tiny whimpers to escape from deep within me. 

His lips trailed down my stomach, stopping momentarily to press kisses to my belly button before continuing their journey south. I shivered with anticipation as his fingers hooked into the sides of my lace panties, pulling them down and off of me in one swift motion.

He took a moment to admire me, spread out before him, completely exposed and vulnerable. His gaze traveled over every inch of me, causing goosebumps to rise on my skin.

"God, you're beautiful," he murmured, before diving back in between my legs. His tongue flicked against my clit sending shockwaves of pleasure through me. I gripped onto the sheets tighter as he continued to tease and lick at my most sensitive spot.

I could feel myself getting closer and closer to the edge, his expert mouth bringing me to the brink. Just when I thought I couldn't take it any longer, he pulled away with a smirk on his face.

"Not yet," he said huskily, crawling back up towards me. He kissed me hard on the lips while positioning himself between my legs. I felt his tip brush against my entrance and I lifted my hips in response.

The room around us was hazy from the scent of our arousal, and I couldn't help but feel like I was in a dream as he continued to tease me. With every lick and nip, his touch sent shockwaves of pleasure through me. My body arched off the bed in response to his expert ministrations, my breasts pressed against his strong chest.

"You taste so fucking good," he groaned, his voice dark and rough with need. His hands slid up my thighs, teasingly close to my aching desire before moving away again. It was driving me crazy!

"Please," I begged him. "I can't take much more."

He chuckled deep in his throat, the sound sending shivers down my spine. "Oh, you think you can handle me?" He leaned down and flicked his tongue gently over my clitoris again, making me gasp in surprise at the intense sensation. "We'll see about that."

I couldn't believe how turned on I was by his dominance. As he continued to tease me, I imagined what it would be like to fully submit to him—to let him take control of my body and pleasure me however he saw fit. It was terrifying yet exhilarating all at once.

It felt like hours (or maybe just minutes?) before he finally eased himself into me, filling me up with his thick cock. I gasped at the sudden intrusion but moaned in delight as he began to move slowly inside me. Every thrust sent violent shudders through my body as we found our rhythm together—his hard and demanding possessions; mine willingly given submission underneath him amidst silk pillows and warm blankets scattered across the sheets beneath us.

I wrapped my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper into me, wanting more, needing more. His hands gripped onto my hips, holding me in place as he continued to thrust into me with increasing speed and force.

I could feel the pleasure building inside of me, growing and swelling until it was almost unbearable. My nails dug into his back as I cried out his name, consumed by the intensity of our union.

He leaned down and captured my lips in a fiery kiss that only added fuel to the fire burning between us. Our bodies moved together in perfect synchronization, reaching higher levels of ecstasy with each passing moment.

The bed rocked beneath us as we gave into pure primal desire. He was an unstoppable force, taking everything from me and giving it back tenfold.

"Fuck," he groaned against my lips, his voice thick with need. "You're so tight."

"Oh, God," I moaned, my toes curling against the sheets. "Don't stop."

He didn't listen to me of course; instead, he continued to pound into me relentlessly, driving me towards the edge again and again until I couldn't take it anymore. My orgasm crashed over me like a tidal wave, consuming every ounce of my being and leaving me shaking in its wake. He followed close behind with a muffled groan as he spilled himself inside of me. He collapsed on top of me, both of us gasping for breath as we came down from our high.

We lay there tangled together for a few moments before he rolled off of me onto his side. He pulled me against him, his arm wrapped tightly around my waist.

"Wow," I finally managed to say.

We lay there panting for several minutes afterward, our heartbeats echoing in our ears above everything else around us.

Finally, he disentangled himself from me and collapsed next to me on the bed, both of us spent and covered in a sheen of sweat.

"Fuck," he breathed out as he ran a hand through his damp hair.

"That was..." I trailed off unable to find the words to describe the intensity of our union.

He let out a bitter, exhausted chuckle laced with satisfaction. "I swore I'd never marry again, but if this is what life could be like on a regular basis, I may have to reconsider," he muttered through gritted teeth. The thought of committing himself again brought a surge of both fear and longing, but for the first time in years, he felt alive.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the landscape, he turned to me with a mix of vulnerability and determination in his eyes. "I never thought I'd find someone who could make me question my own convictions," he said softly, reaching out to gently touch my hand.

I looked back at him, her own eyes filled with understanding and a hint of mischief. "Maybe it's time to rewrite those old promises," I suggested, a smile playing on my lips.

A sense of peace settled over him as he realized that maybe, just maybe, he was ready to take a chance on love once more. With a hopeful heart and a newfound sense of purpose, he whispered, "Maybe it is." 

As the last rays of sunlight slipped beneath the horizon, their eyes locked and they both felt an electric current surge through their bodies. It was a sign that their journey together was just starting and would be filled with endless twists and turns, but they were ready for the challenge.

[seungminsbaldspot]

Six Years, Five months and Two days | FIVE X READER

pairing: five hargreaves x reader

Word Count: 3843

Genre: angst

General Notes: Lila x Five did happen here folks :/, sexual themes, crude language, this does not correlate with whatever happens during seasons 4 other than Lila and Five jumping into a different timeline together for seven years, Reader is referred to as female and wife

Trigger Warnings:, Infidelity: References to a character cheating and the emotional impact it causes, Emotional Betrayal: Feelings of trust being broken and the pain of betrayal, Toxic Relationship Dynamics: Depiction of a complicated and strained relationship, with emotional manipulation and conflicting feelings, Emotional Turmoil: Intense emotions of anger, sadness, frustration, and regret, Unresolved Grief: Characters grappling with loss and the potential end of a long-term relationship, Verbal Conflict: Arguments and heated exchanges between characters, Emotional Manipulation: Attempt by a character to sway or emotionally influence another through their actions or words, Physical Intimacy Amidst Conflict: Depictions of physical closeness that occurs within the context of unresolved emotional pain, Feelings of Guilt and Shame: Characters experiencing intense regret and self-blame for their actions, Unwanted Advances: Physical intimacy that happens despite conflicting feelings, creating a sense of discomfort, and Psychological Distress: Expressions of mental strain, confusion, and fear of loss.

Author’s note: only one more part left !!

Taglist:(comment if you wanna be added) @fate-posts @zukki33 @nightfurya @lethergy @wingoodlilboymyway @hxllhxund @stxrg3m @bigbobass

Spoiler: All you get is, there will be a part 5

Click here for the next part, Part Five, The finale!

Click here for the previous part, Part Three!

The break has honestly been strange. Five and you no longer speak, but the echoes of what you once had still linger. The house feels emptier, quieter, as if the absence of his presence has created a void that you can't quite fill. It's not just the lack of his voice or the absence of his touch—it's the way everything feels muted, as if the color has drained from your world.

Every day, you find yourself staring at him for far too long. When he's in the same room, it feels like an invisible tether pulls your gaze toward him. You catch glimpses of his familiar profile, the curve of his jaw, the way his hands move when he's deep in thought. There’s a haunting familiarity in his every gesture—a painful reminder of all the moments you shared, now tainted by betrayal and uncertainty.

He avoids your eyes, and you do the same, but the awareness of each other is a constant, almost unbearable presence. When you do accidentally meet his gaze, there’s a flicker of something—a brief, intense exchange of emotions neither of you can fully articulate. It's a mixture of longing, regret, and an unspoken understanding that things will never be the same.

Sometimes, you see him lingering in the hallway or catching a glimpse of you from across the room, his expression unreadable. You wonder if he's feeling the same emptiness, the same strange, hollow ache that you do. You wonder if he misses you—or if he’s relieved that you're giving each other space.

At night, you lie awake, listening to the silence, the emptiness of the bed beside you a stark reminder of what you’ve lost. You think about all the things you wish you could say to him—the questions that plague your mind, the confessions that weigh heavily on your heart. But the distance between you feels like a chasm, and you’re not sure how to bridge it.

You try to focus on other things, to distract yourself from the constant pull towards him. But it’s hard when he’s always there, just out of reach. It's like trying to forget a song that’s been stuck in your head for weeks—you can’t help but hum the tune, even when you don’t want to.

You sigh, trying to busy yourself in your room, cleaning, organizing—anything to occupy your mind. But no matter how many times you rearrange the shelves or sort through your clothes, you can’t escape the thoughts that consume you. Every task feels hollow, every moment a reminder of what you’re trying to avoid.

The days stretch on, each one blending into the next, a monotonous blur of empty hours and restless nights. You find yourself staring out the window, watching the world go by, feeling disconnected from everything around you. The silence in the house is deafening, broken only by the sound of your own thoughts, circling endlessly in your mind.

You try to focus on anything other than him, but it’s hard when his presence is everywhere. You catch glimpses of him in the hallway, the way he lingers by the door as if waiting for something—maybe for you to speak, maybe for a sign that things could go back to the way they were. But you’re not sure if that’s even possible anymore.

You hear a knock on your door. You sigh, a wave of nausea rolling over you. It seems like every time someone knocks at your bedroom door, that feeling of dread rises up in your throat, threatening to choke you. You already know who it is—there’s only one person who would bother to knock softly, who would linger just outside, hesitating before making his presence known.

For a moment, you consider ignoring it, pretending you’re not there. Maybe he’ll go away, maybe he’ll take the hint. But another knock, a little firmer this time, breaks the silence again, and you realize he’s not going to leave.

You drag yourself to the door, each step feeling heavier than the last. Your hand hesitates on the doorknob, your heart pounding in your chest. You take a deep breath and pull the door open, bracing yourself for whatever comes next.

Five stands there, his expression uncertain, his eyes searching yours for any hint of what you might be feeling. “Hey,” he says quietly, his voice strained and tired.

You nod in acknowledgment, standing awkwardly with your hand still gripping the edge of the door. The silence stretches between you, heavy with everything left unsaid. You want to ask him why he’s here, what he wants, but the words stick in your throat. It’s like every time you see him, your heart remembers both the love and the betrayal, and it’s paralyzing.

Five shifts his weight, glancing down at the floor for a moment before looking back up at you. “I—um, Lila got the paternity test done,” he stammers, the words hanging in the air like a loaded gun.

Your breath catches in your throat. “And?” you manage to ask, your voice barely above a whisper, dreading the answer but needing to know.

Five swallows hard, his face tense. "It’s Diego’s," he finally says, his voice soft but steady. "The baby... it’s Diego’s."

A rush of relief floods through you, but it’s quickly overshadowed by the complicated mess of emotions that follow. Anger, hurt, betrayal—they’re all still there, simmering just beneath the surface. You don’t know what to say, what to feel.

You release a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, your grip loosening on the doorknob. “Okay,” you whisper, your voice shaking with a mix of emotions you can’t quite name. Five takes a small step forward, his eyes searching yours, hoping for some sign of what you’re thinking.

“Is there... is there any chance we could try to start over?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper, filled with a mixture of vulnerability and longing. You scrunch your eyes closed, a sigh escaping your lips. “Five, we’ve been together for decades,” you say, your voice heavy with emotion, “and you threw it all away for a few years of mistakes.”

He sighs, his shoulders slumping slightly. “I know. I know all too fucking well,” he replies, his voice thick with regret. The silence that follows is charged with the weight of everything unsaid, the enormity of what’s been lost hanging heavily between you.

After a long, tense pause, he finally breaks the silence. “Am I going to lose you?” His voice trembles, a raw edge of fear and desperation cutting through his words. You close your eyes, thinking.

You close your eyes, the weight of his question settling heavily on your shoulders. He’s your first—and only—love. He’s your husband, at least for now. The history you share, the memories, the years of life intertwined, all come rushing back, making it nearly impossible to think clearly.

You take a deep breath, trying to sift through the tangled emotions. “I.. Give me a reason not to leave.” you say, your voice trembling with a mix of hope and desperation.

Five’s eyes widen slightly, a flicker of relief mixed with uncertainty crossing his face. He takes a step closer, his gaze earnest and intense. “Because I’m still in love with you,” he says softly, his voice cracking with emotion.

You shake your head, your resolve firm despite the turmoil inside. “That’s not good enough,” you reply, your voice tinged with frustration.

He sighs deeply, the weight of your words sinking in. Without hesitation, he steps forward and wraps his arms around your waist, pulling you gently towards him. His touch sends a jolt through you, a mix of familiar comfort and renewed uncertainty. You want to push him away, to maintain the distance you’ve worked hard to create, but your body betrays you, leaning into his touch despite your better judgment.

“Then prove it,” you whisper, your voice trembling with a mix of challenge and longing. “Show me that you’re willing to fight for us, to rebuild what we’ve lost.”

His grip tightens slightly, his gaze locking onto yours with an intensity that speaks of his determination and desperation. “I will,” he promises, his voice raw with sincerity. “I’ll do whatever it takes. Just... please, give me a chance to show you.

You sigh, the weight of his plea settling heavily on your shoulders. You nod slowly, the gesture filled with a mix of reluctant hope and cautious optimism. Five’s eyes soften with a flicker of relief, and before you can react, he leans in and kisses you.

The kiss is both tender and desperate, a blend of old familiarity and new vulnerability. It’s as if he’s trying to pour all his regrets, his hopes, and his love into that one moment. You feel a whirlwind of emotions—familiarity mingling with unresolved pain, love clashing with hurt. His lips linger against yours, seeking connection, reassurance, and redemption.

When he finally pulls away, his gaze is steady, filled with a mixture of hope and fear. “Thank you,” he murmurs, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll show you—I promise.”

Before you can fully grasp his words, his lips are on yours again. His kiss deepens, passionate and urgent, as if he's trying to convey all the words left unsaid. You find yourself responding, your body remembering the familiar rhythm of his touch. This kiss is different—it's not like those nights when your anger and lust drove you to call him to your room, at least it didn't feel like it.

He pushes you back into the room, closing the door behind him with a soft click. His hands move to the hem of your shirt, fingers grazing the delicate fabric as he lifts it gently. The rustle of the material and the cool air against your skin send a shiver down your spine. His gaze is intense, a blend of desire and reverence as his eyes meet yours, silently asking for permission to proceed.

You hesitate for a moment, your heart racing with a mixture of desire and uncertainty. But as you look into Five's eyes, you see a depth of emotion that makes your resolve waver. Slowly, you nod, giving him the permission he seeks. His hands move with a gentle reverence, carefully lifting your shirt over your head, his fingers trailing along your skin as if rediscovering a long-lost treasure.

It’s different, different from then when you’d fuck him out of anger.

This time, there's a tenderness in his touch, a vulnerability in his eyes that speaks of regret and a desperate desire to make things right. As he leans in to kiss you again, you feel the weight of your shared history, the pain of recent betrayals, and a flickering hope for redemption all tangled together. His lips move against yours with a gentle urgency, as if he's trying to convey all the words he couldn't say, all the promises he wants to keep.

His hands move with practiced ease, cupping your covered breast with a gentle yet confident touch. The familiar gesture sends a shiver down your spine, a mix of anticipation and lingering uncertainty. With deft fingers, he skillfully unclasps your bra, the soft click of the fastener echoing in the charged silence between you. The fabric falls away, exposing your skin to the cool air, and you can't help but feel a flutter of vulnerability.

Five's touch is a paradox - both achingly familiar and thrillingly new. His fingers trace delicate patterns across your skin, each caress charged with a potent blend of longing and silent apology. The pads of his fingers find your nipples, pinching them with just the right amount of pressure. It's a testament to your shared history, to all the intimate moments that have led to this perfect knowledge of your body. He's learned exactly how you like to be touched, during your time as fuck-buddies.

His lips begin a slow, sensuous journey down your neck, leaving a trail of soft, feather-light kisses in their wake. Each press of his lips against your skin ignites a spark of pleasure, making you shiver with growing desire. Despite the turmoil still swirling in your mind, your body responds to him instinctively, arching into his touch, seeking more of that exquisite contact.

Five's hands continue their gentle exploration, tracing the familiar contours of your body with a reverence that feels almost sacred. His touch is both an apology and a confession, filled with a passionate yearning to make things right. Each caress is an unspoken plea for forgiveness, as if he's trying to mend the fractures between you with the softness of his fingertips, attempting to rebuild the trust and intimacy that’s been shattered.

As his lips move against your neck, pressing soft kisses along your skin, you find yourself drifting back in time, remembering the first time you met. It hadn’t been like this. Far from it. You were rivals then, each too proud and stubborn to admit any attraction that simmered just beneath the surface of your bickering. You had hated him for his arrogance, his sharp wit that always seemed to cut too deep. But underneath all that resentment was a spark—one you had tried so hard to ignore.

And now, here you were, years later, both of you changed by time, by mistakes, by love, and by loss. The spark that once ignited between you had turned into a raging fire, burning everything in its path, leaving nothing untouched. You wonder if it’s possible to start over, to rebuild from the ashes of what was lost, or if this is just another attempt to grasp at something that can never be fully restored.

You think about the hurt—the betrayal that cut deeper than you ever thought possible. He slept with someone he’s known for far less time than he’s known you. The fucker made you his wife and still never touched you until after he had been with someone else—during your marriage, no less. The thought twists in your gut like a knife, the pain raw and fresh.

Your eyes clench shut, trying to push away the memories, the images that flicker behind your eyelids like a cruel reminder. The way his lips move against your skin now, the softness of his touch—it starts to burn. What once felt familiar and safe now feels foreign, wrong, tainted by everything that’s happened. You want to lose yourself in the comfort of his arms, to forget the betrayal, but the reality of it is too stark, too present.

The conflict within you intensifies with every passing second, each touch from Five a painful reminder of the two worlds you now inhabit—one built on years of love and shared memories, and the other tainted by betrayal and broken trust. His hands move with a tenderness that used to soothe you, but now they only stir up old wounds. You’re caught between the familiar comfort of his embrace and the urge to push him away, to protect yourself from more pain.

Your breath quickens as you try to make sense of the whirlwind of emotions. You can’t just forget what happened, but the thought of losing him entirely is terrifying. You’re not sure if you can keep doing this, living in the middle ground between love and hate, between wanting to forgive and needing to protect yourself.

“Stop,” you whisper, your voice shaky. You press your hands against his chest, pushing him back. He stops immediately, his brows furrowing with confusion.

“What is it?” he asks, his voice soft, cautious.

You struggle to find the words, your chest tight with emotion. “I don’t know if I can do this,” you finally say, your voice barely more than a whisper. “I don’t know if I can forget... or forgive.” Five looks at you, his expression earnest. “Come on, can’t we just, I don’t know, move on? People make mistakes, right?”

The words hit you like a slap to the face. Your eyes widen in disbelief, anger bubbling up inside you. “Move on?” you repeat, your voice rising. “Are you fucking serious right now? You think I can just ‘move on’ from you cheating on me?”

Five’s face falls, realizing his mistake, but he tries to backtrack. “I didn’t mean it like that—”

“Then how did you mean it?” you snap, your anger flaring. “You think this is something I can just get over? Like it’s some minor bump in the road?”

He opens his mouth, but no words come out. He looks lost, like he’s trying to find the right thing to say but is coming up empty. “I just... I didn’t want things to stay like this,” he finally mutters, sounding defeated.

You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “Of course you didn’t. It’s inconvenient for you, isn’t it? Dealing with the consequences of your actions.”

He steps back, a look of guilt and frustration crossing his face. “I know I fucked up, okay? I’m trying here, I just... I don’t know what to do.”

“Maybe start by not saying something so fucking stupid,” you retort, your voice sharp.

Five winces, his eyes dropping to the floor, shame evident in every line of his posture. “I’m sorry,” he mumbles, his voice barely audible. “I didn’t mean to make it sound like it wasn’t a big deal. I know it is. I know I hurt you.”

You shake your head, feeling the sting of fresh tears threatening to spill. “You still don’t get it,” you say, your voice cracking with a mix of anger and pain. “This isn’t just about hurting me, Five. This is about breaking something I thought was unbreakable. And you think I can just...move past that?”

He runs a hand through his hair, a frustrated sigh escaping his lips. “I don’t know what else to say,” he admits, his voice strained. “I’m trying to make this right, but I keep screwing up. I don’t know how to fix this.”

You let out a bitter laugh, wiping away a stray tear. “Maybe you can’t,” you reply, your tone blunt and unforgiving. “Maybe there’s no fixing this. Maybe you’ve already done all the damage you can.”

Five’s face crumples, a mix of frustration and desperation etched across his features. He opens his mouth to speak, then hesitates. You can see the internal battle playing out in his mind, his jaw clenching as if he's holding back something important. Finally, he lets out a breath, his shoulders slumping as he confesses, “I... I still have feelings for Lila.”

The air leaves your lungs as if you’ve been punched in the stomach. You take a step back, your hands trembling. “What?” The word comes out barely above a whisper, but it’s loaded with shock and disbelief.

He raises his hands in a placating gesture, panic flaring in his eyes. “It’s not what you think—I don’t want to be with her, but after everything… I don’t know how to just shut off those feelings. I thought maybe if we could move on, if I could focus on us—”

You cut him off, your voice rising with a newfound fury. “So that’s it? You think we can just ‘move on’ while you’re still hung up on her? That’s your big plan?” Five shakes his head quickly, stepping toward you, but you hold up a hand to stop him. “No. Just… don’t. I can’t believe you thought you could fix this by just ignoring what you feel for her. You’re so fucking insane.”

He flinches at your words, his face crumpling in a mix of guilt and frustration. “I’m not saying it’s easy!” he snaps back, his own anger flaring up. “I’m trying to deal with it, to make it right with you—”

“Deal with it?” you interrupt, “You don’t just ‘deal with’ something like this, Five! You think I’m supposed to sit around and wait for you to figure out your feelings for someone else?” He sighs heavily, running a hand through his hair, his expression torn. “I don’t want to hurt you anymore. I’m trying to be honest—”

“Honest?” you laugh bitterly, shaking your head. “You don’t get to call this honesty. This is called you being so very fucking selfish. ”

Five's face tightens, his frustration boiling over. “What do you want me to say? That I’m perfect? I’m not! I’m trying to do the right thing here. There’s so much fucking stuff on my mind- I know I messed up—”

You don’t let him finish. “Messed up? You fucked someone else, Five! You betrayed me, our marriage, and now you’re telling me you still have feelings for her? That’s not just a ‘mess up’—that’s a choice! And now you expect me to just stand here and take it?” Five looks desperate, his eyes pleading with you to understand. “I’m here with you, trying to fix things with you. Isn’t that what matters?”

You shake your head, tears of frustration and hurt streaming down your face. “No, Five, that’s not enough. You don’t get to decide what’s enough. You don’t get to make me feel like I have to compete for you. Not with her, not with anyone. If you can’t figure out who you want, then maybe you don’t deserve either of us.”

He looks at you, stricken, his face pale. “I never wanted to lose you,” he whispers, his voice cracking with emotion. “I’m so scared of losing you.”

You let out a shaky breath, your heart breaking all over again. “You should have thought about that before you fucked Lila. I’m not your backup plan, Five. I’m not something you can just fall back on when things get complicated.”

You take a step back, your hand on the doorknob. “If you really want me, you need to prove it. But I’m not waiting around for you to decide. I’ve been hurt enough.”

And with that, you turn and leave, your heart heavy, What the fuck is wrong with you Five Hargreaves?

[luvolani]

𝗦𝘆𝗻𝗼𝗽𝘀𝗶𝘀- 𝗺𝗲𝗴𝘂𝗺𝗶 𝘅 𝗿𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗲𝗿!

Warning(s) fluffy romantic elements. Reader discretion is advised due to mature fluff and and potentially triggering situations. Highschool romance!.

In the quiet halls of Shibuya High, where whispers of upcoming prom echoed among the lockers, Megumi fushiguro found himself entangled in a whirlwind of nerves and longing. His heart beat a little faster every time he saw her—Y/N Nakamura—the girl who had unknowingly captured his attention from the moment he first saw her in freshman year.

Megumi wasn't one to be bold. In fact, his friends Nobara and Yuji often teased him for being the quietest boy in their group. Yet, there was a fire in him, a desire to ask Y/N to prom, to spend an unforgettable night with her, to finally muster the courage to let her know how he felt.

Days turned into weeks, and prom drew nearer with each passing day. Megumi found himself rehearsing imaginary conversations in his mind, imagining scenarios where he would ask Y/N to be his date. But every time he saw her, words failed him, and he retreated into his silence.

Nobara, with her outgoing personality, and Yuji, with his infectious optimism, tried to encourage Megumi. "Just go for it, Megumi! You'll regret it if you don't," Nobara would say, while Yuji added, "You got this, man! She's been waiting for you to ask."

Their words were like sparks in the dark, flickers of hope in Megumi's hesitant heart. But still, he hesitated, unsure if he could handle the possibility of rejection.

It was on a quiet afternoon, during the time when students were tasked with cleaning the school, that Megumi finally gathered his resolve. He had picked a bouquet of flowers from the garden behind the school—a mix of wildflowers and delicate roses—and with shaking hands, he approached Y/N who was wiping down desks in an empty classroom.

She looked up as he entered, surprise flickering in her eyes at the sight of him holding flowers. Megumi cleared his throat nervously, his heart pounding in his chest.

"Um, Y/N," he began, his voice barely above a whisper. "I... I wanted to ask if you'd like to go to prom with me?"

Y/N's eyes softened, a smile playing at her lips. She took the bouquet from Megumi's hands gently, the scent of flowers filling the air between them. "Took you long enough, Megumi," she teased lightly, her voice warm with affection.

Megumi's cheeks turned pink, a shy smile tugging at his lips. "I... I wanted it to be right," he admitted quietly.

Y/N stepped closer, reaching up to kiss his cheek softly. "It's perfect," she whispered, her breath warm against his skin. She pulled back slightly, meeting his eyes with a knowing look. "I've been waiting for you to ask."

As she walked away, leaving Megumi standing there with a stunned yet elated expression, she glanced back at him over her shoulder, her smile brighter than ever. Their eyes locked for a moment, and in that gaze, Megumi felt a rush of courage and joy surge through him.

"Jesus, you're gonna be the death of me, Y/N," he murmured to himself, a grin spreading across his face.

Prom night arrived, a night filled with laughter, dancing, and stolen glances between Megumi and Y/N. As they swayed to the music under the soft glow of fairy lights, Megumi couldn't help but feel grateful for his friends' encouragement, for Y/N's patience, and for the courage he finally found within himself to take a chance on love.

And as they shared a slow dance, with Y/N's head resting against his shoulder and her hand in his, Megumi knew that some things are worth the wait, worth the nerves, and worth every moment of uncertainty

[lila-lou]

✨ His only exception - Pt. 21/? ✨

Summary: 12 months ago, Butcher went above and beyond to have you join his team. You had a simple office job at Supe Affairs. The same thing every day, working from 9 to 5 and watching Butcher and his team defeat one renegade after another. One evening, however, something changed.

Pairing: Soldier Boy x Reader

Warnings: Language, angst, hurt

Word Count: 3377

A/N: This is part 21 of “His only exeption”.

English isn’t my first language, so please be lenient. 💙✨

As you stood there in the bathroom, staring at your reflection, the tumult of emotions swirling within you threatened to overwhelm you. Jay's presence in your life had brought moments of joy and comfort, but now faced with the prospect of intimacy, you found yourself grappling with feelings you hadn't fully acknowledged.

Your mind wandered back to Ben, his absence palpable yet his memory hauntingly present. Could you truly move forward with someone else, knowing the lingering shadow of Ben hung over you?

The sound of Jay's voice outside the bathroom door broke through your reverie, a reminder of the present moment and the person waiting on the other side. Part of you longed to confide in him, to share the inner turmoil consuming you, but another part hesitated, fearing his reaction and the potential fallout of your honesty.

"Hey, are you sure you're okay?". His tone was gentle, laced with concern. "You seem… off. Is there something you want to talk about?".

You hesitated, the weight of his words sinking in. Jay's genuine concern only served to amplify the turmoil within you. How could you explain the maelstrom of emotions churning inside your chest without delving into the depths of your past?

"I'm… I'm fine", you replied, your voice betraying a hint of uncertainty. "Just… dealing with some things".

There was a moment of silence before Jay spoke again, his tone softer now, filled with understanding. "You know you can talk to me, right? Whatever it is, I'm here for you".

His words tugged at something deep within you, a flicker of hope amidst the chaos.

"I know", you murmured. "I just… need some time to sort things out".

You stepped out of the bathroom, your eyes red.

"C´mere", he whispered.

Feeling Jay’s arms envelop you in a comforting embrace, you let out a shaky breath, momentarily finding solace in his warmth. But his next words shattered the fragile calm that had settled over you.

“I just… I can’t shake this feeling”, Jay murmured, his voice barely above a whisper as he held you close. “It’s like… I’m all in, you know? But sometimes it feels like you’re… not as committed to this as I am. I know we haven't been together that long, but it feels like you don't really want the whole thing”.

His words hung heavy in the air, a weighty reminder of the unspoken tensions simmering beneath the surface of your relationship. You swallowed hard, the guilt of withholding your true feelings threatening to suffocate you.

“I’m sorry”, you whispered, your voice tinged with regret. “I don’t mean to make you feel that way. It’s just… complicated”.

Jay pulled back slightly, his gaze searching yours for answers. “Complicated how?”, he asked, his tone a mixture of curiosity and apprehension.

You hesitated, unsure of how much to reveal. But as you met his gaze, the sincerity in his eyes urged you to be honest.

“There’s… someone else”, you confessed, the words tumbling out in a rush. “Was someone else, I… I don´t know. It´s someone from my… past, I guess. And I… I’m still trying to figure out what that means for me… for us”.

Jay’s expression faltered, a flicker of hurt crossing his features before he masked it with a forced smile. “I see”, he said quietly, though his eyes betrayed the turmoil within. “I guess I always knew there was something more”.

You reached out to touch his arm, a silent plea for understanding. “It’s not that I don’t care about you”, you insisted, your voice trembling with emotion. “It’s just… complicated”.

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the weight of your confession hanging heavily between you.

Feeling Jay’s gaze fixed on you, you took a deep breath, steeling yourself to share a glimpse of the tangled web that had ensnared your heart.

“We had… a connection, a deep one. But things didn’t end well”.

Jay listened intently, his expression a mix of concern and curiosity as he leaned back against the wall, his eyes never leaving yours.

“And now”, you whispered, the words barely “now I’m here, with you. But… but part of me still feels tied to him, to what we had”.

Jay looked down at you, his gaze searching yours with a mixture of compassion and uncertainty.

"Are you sure you're ready for a new relationship?", he asked. "I mean, if part of you still feels tied to him… it's okay to take more time to figure things out".

Your heart ached at his words, the truth of his question hitting you with a force you hadn't anticipated. Were you truly ready to move on, to fully commit to a new relationship?

You shrugged, unable to meet Jay's gaze as a pang of guilt washed over you. "I don't know", you admitted. "I want to be, but… it's hard".

A flicker of hurt crossed Jay's features at your words, his shoulders slumping slightly as he struggled to mask his disappointment. "I understand", he said quietly, though the pain in his eyes betrayed the depth of his feelings. "I just… I want you to be happy, whatever that means for you… for us".

Tears welled in your eyes as you reached out to him, desperate to ease the ache you had caused. "I'm sorry", you whispered, your voice choked with emotion. "I don't want to hurt you".

Jay enveloped you again in a gentle embrace, holding you close as if trying to shield you from the pain of your own indecision. "It's okay", he murmured against your hair, his voice filled with a quiet resignation. "We'll figure it out together, okay?".

And as you clung to him, the weight of your uncertainty pressing down on you.

With everything swirling in your mind, you felt as though you were losing yourself in the chaos. The person you once knew, the one who had made promises and believed in love, seemed like a distant memory now.

After letting yourself in with Ben, you were pretending to be someone you weren't. And now, with Jay, you had thrown yourself into a new relationship, hoping to find solace in his kindness and affection. But in the process, you were hurting him, and the realization cut you to the core.

As Jay held you close, offering comfort and understanding despite the turmoil within you, you couldn't shake the feeling of guilt gnawing at your insides. How could you continue to deceive him, to pretend that everything was fine when you were barely holding yourself together?

More tears welled in your eyes as you buried your face in Jay's chest, seeking refuge from the storm raging within you. "I don't know who I am anymore", you confessed, your voice trembling with emotion.

Jay held you tighter, his own heart heavy with the weight of your pain. "It's okay", he whispered, his voice filled with compassion. "We'll figure it out together. Just… be honest with me, okay? That's all I ask".

You nodded against his chest.

Jay held you close, his arms a comforting embrace as he gently brushed his hand over your back, soothing the ache that had settled deep within you.

"Hey", he murmured softly, his voice a gentle caress against your ear. "When was the last time you visited your mom, or your family? Or at least met with some friends?".

His question hung in the air, a stark reminder of the isolation that had gradually encroached upon your life in recent weeks. You thought back, trying to recall the last time you had reached out to anyone outside of your interactions with Jay, but the memory eluded you.

"I… I don't know", you admitted. "It's been a while. I've been so caught up in everything… I guess I lost track of time".

Jay's embrace tightened slightly, a silent acknowledgment of the loneliness that had crept into your life unnoticed. "Maybe… maybe it's time to reach out to them. They care about you, you know?".

Again you nodded against his chest, the weight of his words sinking in.

Jay pressed a tender kiss to the top of your head. "Come on", he said softly, his voice tender as he gently pulled away from your embrace. "Let's go back to the living room".

As you settled back onto the couch, Jay wrapped his arms around you once more, pulling you close as if to reassure himself of your presence. His touch was gentle, yet persistent, as he continued to brush his hand over your arm in a comforting gesture.

With each stroke, a sense of calm washed over you, the weight of your worries momentarily lifted by Jay's unwavering affection. Just like it has been for the last few weeks.

As you nestled into his embrace, Jay let out a soft sigh, his voice barely above a whisper as he spoke.

"I think… I think you need to figure out your feelings", he murmured, his words tinged with a hint of uncertainty. "I don't want to push you into anything, but… I really like you. And… and I do not want to lose you. Whether as a girlfriend or just a friend".

His admission hung in the air, a vulnerable confession of his own desires and fears. You turned to look at him, finding solace in the warmth of his gaze as he continued.

"So maybe… maybe we can take it slow", Jay suggested, his voice tentative yet hopeful. "We don't have to rush into anything. We can just… see where things go".

His words resonated within you, a gentle reminder that healing and growth often came with time and patience. You nodded in agreement, a sense of relief washing over you as you leaned into his embrace.

"Thank you", you whispered, your voice filled with gratitude. "For understanding".

Jay smiled softly, his fingers kept tracing soothing circles on your arm. "Always", he replied. "I'm here for you, no matter what".

In the days that followed, Jay and you spent countless hours talking, sharing stories, and getting to know each other on a deeper level. His presence became a source of comfort and stability, grounding you in the midst of uncertainty.

With each conversation, you felt pieces of yourself falling back into place, like a puzzle slowly being reassembled. Jay's patience and understanding gave you the space to explore your feelings and rediscover the person you once were.

One day, feeling a newfound sense of confidence and belonging, you suggested visiting the team again. Jay readily agreed, eager to meet the people who had played such a significant role in your life.

After introducing Jay to the others, everyone told you about the latest events, gave you an update on Homelander, and told you what it was like in the executive suite at Vought. Despite the distance and time apart, the bond you shared with them remained as strong as ever.

As the evening stretched on, you found yourselves gathered at a cozy bar with Hughie, Annie and Jay. Annie told you about her temporary leading position at vought.

You listened with admiration as she described the challenges and triumphs of her new role, marveling at her resilience and determination. Despite the pressures she faced, Annie seemed to thrive in the leadership position.

Meanwhile, Jay struck up a conversation with Hughie, the two of them quickly hitting it off. They exchanged stories and shared laughs, bonding over their mutual interests and experiences. You watched with a smile as Jay's easygoing charm drew Hughie out of his shell, the two of them becoming fast friends.

After a while, Annie led you to the bar to get some new drinks, the lively chatter of Hughie and Jay faded into the background, leaving you alone with your thoughts. As you waited for the bartender to take your order, Annie leaned in, her voice low and conspiratorial.

"So, what's the deal with you and Jay?", she asked, a mischievous glint in her eye. "I have to say, I really like him. You've definitely hit a good one".

You smiled weakly, grateful for Annie's support but unable to shake the weight of your own uncertainty. "He's great", you admitted, your voice tinged with hesitation. "But… I'm still trying to figure things out".

Annie nodded in understanding, her expression sympathetic. "I get it", she said softly. "But just know that Jay really cares about you. And if anyone can help you through whatever you're going through, it's him".

You sighed, the weight of her words settling heavily on your shoulders. "I know", you murmured, a pang of guilt tugging at your heart. "I just wish things weren't so… complicated".

Annie let out a sigh, her frustration evident as she leaned in closer, her voice tinged with exasperation.

“You need to forget about Ben”, she insisted, her tone firm. “He’s not worth your time or your heartache. You have someone amazing right in front of you, someone who genuinely cares about you”.

You nodded, knowing deep down that Annie was right. But as much as you wanted to let go, the pull of your feelings for Ben remained stubbornly strong.

“I know”, you replied softly, your voice filled with resignation. “But it’s not that easy. Ben… he made me feel things no one else ever could, or ever will”.

Annie rolled her eyes, her disdain for Ben evident in the way her lips curled into a frown. “Yeah, well, he was also a huge dick most of the time”, she muttered under her breath.

You couldn’t help but chuckle weakly at her bluntness. “That’s true”, you admitted with a rueful smile. “But despite everything, there was still something about him…”.

Annie shook her head, her frustration evident as she reached out to squeeze your hand in a gesture of support. “But you deserve someone who treats you right”.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself for the difficult conversation ahead. "I know Ben wasn't always ideal", you began, your voice tinged with emotion. "But he… he literally risked his life for me so many times… We, he, was special. We had something special".

"If there was really something special, he wouldn't have just left", she said bluntly, her words hitting you like a punch to the gut.

The truth in Annie's words cut deep, stirring up a whirlwind of conflicting emotions within you. You knew she was right, that Ben's departure had left a gaping hole in your heart that seemed impossible to fill. But despite the pain, a part of you couldn't let go of the memories, the moments of connection and intimacy that had once brought you so much joy.

Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled to find the words to respond."But… it's not that simple…".

Annie reached out to you, her touch gentle as she wiped away your tears. "I'm sorry", she said softly, her voice filled with empathy. "I didn't mean to hurt you. I just want you to be happy, that's all".

As you walked back to the table with Annie by your side, you couldn't shake the weight of her words echoing in your mind. With a heavy heart, you stole a glance at her, a silent plea for comfort and understanding.

"He didn't even say goodbye", you mumbled, the bitterness of the truth lingering on your tongue.

"He's just an asshole", she said, her tone leaving no room for argument.

"But he… had his reasons", you replied quietly, thinking about russia, though even you weren't entirely convinced by your own words.

Annie shook her head, her frustration evident as she linked her arm with yours. "Maybe", she conceded, her voice softening. "But that doesn't excuse the way he treated you. You deserve better than that".

In the apartment, Butcher, MM and Frenchie sat in tense silence, each lost in their own thoughts.

Frenchie shifted uncomfortably in his seat, his brow furrowed with worry. “I don’t like lying to (y/n)”, he muttered under his breath, his voice tinged with guilt.

Butcher let out a frustrated groan, his frustration palpable in the air. “If (y/n) knew we had captured Soldier Boy, she’d be on the next flight to free him”, he grumbled, his tone laced with bitterness.

MM glanced between his companions, his expression grave. “We can’t risk it”, he said firmly, his voice a quiet reminder of the stakes at hand.

Frenchie let out a frustrated grunt, his unease bubbling to the surface. "If that ever comes out, (y/n) will hate us all", he muttered.

Butcher's jaw tightened at the thought, his frustration boiling over into anger. "She won't find out", he snapped, his tone harsh and uncompromising. "No one is spilling the beans, understand?".

MM nodded in agreement, his expression solemn as he met Butcher's steely gaze. "We'll keep our mouths shut", he affirmed. "He wasn't good for her, Frenchie. He just used her".

But Frenchie shook his head adamantly, his brow furrowed with disagreement. "I don't think so", he interjected, his voice firm with conviction. "I think he really did love her".

Butcher scoffed at Frenchie's assertion, his skepticism evident in the way he narrowed his eyes. "Love? That's a load of rubbish", he retorted, his tone dismissive. "He's a bloody supe, Frenchie. They don't know the first thing about love".

Frenchie bristled at Butcher's words. "Clearly you didn't see the way he looked at her", he countered. "There was something real there, I'm telling you".

MM glanced between Butcher and Frenchie, a troubled expression crossing his features. "Maybe", he conceded reluctantly. "But even if he did love her, it doesn't change the fact that he's a liability now. We can't afford to have him jeopardize us".

Turning back towards Annie, you couldn't shake the nagging question that had been gnawing at the back of your mind. "But don't you think it's strange he didn't even say goodbye?", you asked, your voice tinged with uncertainty. "I mean, we were kinda friends, right?".

Annie raised a skeptical eyebrow, her expression incredulous. "Friends?", she echoed, her tone laced with disbelief. "You're for real, (y/n)?".

You flushed slightly, taken aback by Annie's reaction. "Well, maybe not friends exactly," you admitted sheepishly. "But we… we had something".

Until now, you hadn't told anyone how much had actually happened between you and Ben, even if everyone could already guess.

Annie let out a sigh, her frustration evident as she shook her head. "I don't know what you had with Ben", she replied, her tone softer now. "But whatever it was, it's over now. You deserve better than someone who would just up and leave without a word".

Despite your best efforts to move forward, being back with the team brought a flood of emotions rushing back, intensifying the ache of missing Ben. Every corner of the room seemed to whisper his name, every familiar face a bittersweet reminder of the bond you had shared.

You found yourself lost in memories, replaying moments spent with Ben in your mind like a broken record. His absence felt like a gaping hole in the fabric of your reality, a void that no amount of distraction could fill.

And as you navigated through the days, the longing for Ben weighed heavily on your heart, casting a shadow over even the most joyous moments. Despite the passage of time, the pain of his absence remained raw and unyielding.

And as you struggled to reconcile the past with the present, you couldn't shake the feeling that despite your best efforts, you were still trapped in a cycle of longing and loss.

———————————

A/N: I hope this chapter makes you feel a little better :D There's still so much planned guys, just wait. Please let me know what you think.🥰

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Part 22

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Taglist: @deangirl96, @thatgirljayy, @suckitands33, @deans-spinster-witch@mimaria420@kaz11283@uncle-eggy @jackles010378 @vxnilla-hxrddrugs @meowmeowyoongles @sarahgracej @zemosdarling228 @leila22rogers @mostlymarvelgirl @emily-winchester @blacknoirr @onlyangel-444 @seasonofthenerd @staple-your-mouth @artemys-ackles @selfdestructionandrhum @mystic-mara

[hearts4hughes]

trouble in paradise | luke hughes

(luke hughes x fem! reader) + (jack hughes x platonic! reader)

a/n: finally finished it!! i feel like i write so much for luke now, but hey i’m not complaining!!

request: hi, could i request an angsty fic with luke dating jack’s best friend? maybe they have an argument and jack is caught inbetween? thank you! <3

you stand before luke, your heart racing and your voice trembling with a mixture of anger and hurt. the room feels smaller, suffocating, as the weight of your argument hangs heavily in the air. the person you saw as your rock, your confidant, now stands before you as a source of frustration and disappointment. this is a moment you never thought would come – arguing with luke.

every word you say is laced with frustration, each syllable a knife cutting deeper into the fabric of your relationship. your once shared dreams and laughter seem like distant memories, overshadowed by the mounting tension that has consumed you both. he stares back at you, his eyes a mix of defiance and pain, his own words a response to your accusations.

“it’s like you don’t even care anymore,” your voice is cold, the warmth it usually holds nowhere to be found. “it’s like i’m no one to you, luke!” your voice cracks, showcasing your insecurities.

“i’m the one who doesn’t care?” he huffs out a sarcastic laugh, causing your heart to crack ever so slightly. “you’re the one who spends more time with jack than her own boyfriend!”

your senses are overcome with betrayal. your relationship with jack - your best friend and luke’s brother - was anything but romantic. you were best friends from birth. ellen and your mother always joked you two were ‘attached by the hip’; however, you never thought anything of jack in a romantic way. your friendship was strictly platonic, and you made sure to tell luke that when you began dating.

in this anguished moment, you wonder how it came to this. how the person who once brought you joy and comfort has become a source of turmoil. you question whether love alone is enough to sustain a relationship, or if it takes something more, something you fear may be slipping away.

“jack is my best friend. i’ve known him since i can remember, and you’re going to use that against me? fuck you, luke!” you yell, your feeling of betrayal quickly turns into rage. “you’re just insecure because jack and i have a healthy relationship without even trying, but you and i can’t because you ruin everything! that’s what you do, luke. you ruin everything you can touch.”

the hurtful words flow freely from your lips before you can stop them. silence consumes the room. your mouth hangs agape. you never thought you were capable of saying something like that to luke - your soulmate, the love of your life, your everything.

your words hit him like a sledgehammer. shattering both his heart and his confidence. his once angry features have now fallen into sadness and anxiety. did you really think that about him? did you really think he destroys everything he touches?

he opens his mouth and you expect to be yelled at or even scolded, but he only manages to croak out, “why don’t you go date jack instead, then!”

before you can even process what had been said, he exited the shared bedroom and the apartment, making sure to slam the door. you’re left standing there, the weight of his departure pressing against your chest. tears stream down your face, a mixture of regret and longing. the house feels empty and the reality of his absence crashes down upon you. for a moment, you're overwhelmed by a wave of uncertainty and fear. the weightiness of the dispute bears down heavily on you, leading to doubts that stain your thoughts. have you crossed a line that can't be undone? is this the point of no return? uncertainties whirl in your mind as you struggle with the potential of losing him.

as sobs leave your tired body, you fall to the floor, tucking your knees to your chest and hiding your face in between them. your cries almost drown out the soft knocks against your door. “i don’t want to talk to you, luke. go away.” you say, your voice holding utter exhaustion.

“it’s jack, not luke,” his voice is muffled from being behind the door, “can i come in, please?”

in the midst of the heated argument, you had completely forgotten jack was home, listening to the whole thing. a few months after you and luke started dating, you both talked of moving in with each other - considering you were at jack and luke’s apartment everyday anyway. with open arms, they both invited you to move in with them. jack even redid the guest bedroom for you (even though you claimed luke’s room as yours too).

you rise from your place, wiping away your tears, and open the door to find jack standing there, concern etched across his face. he doesn't say anything. he simply steps forward and envelops you in a tight, understanding embrace. you find comfort in his arms, feeling the weight of your burden begin to lift ever so slightly. you know that you can trust him with your pain, your fears, and your deepest vulnerabilities.

“he’s not coming back is he?” you say in between uncontrolled breaths, “i ruined everything, didn’t i?” you nuzzle your face into the crook of his neck as he tightens his hold around you.

“he has to come back, y/n. his airpods and phone are still here.” he jokes, trying to cheer you up and break the tension. you pull away from his neck, shooting him a glare that reads ‘not the time’. “ok sorry but he’s definitely coming back. he just needs time to cool down and chill out before he talks to you. and, you didn’t ruin anything. all relationships have their ups and downs.”

“but what if this isn’t just an up or down? what if we break up?” your voice is barely above a murmur. voicing your insecurities is something you don’t do often. you were taught at an early age that it’s best if you keep your doubts to yourself instead of showcases them for everyone to see.

jack rests his head atop of yours, “believe me, you won’t break up. luke loves you too much, y/n/n,” he pauses to take a deep breath, “however, you did say some pretty hurtful things. i’m not defending luke by any means because he was being a total dick, but you should apologize as well.”

you nod softly in agreement.

-

luke came home a few hours later. he went out fully convinced he would get drunk, but he didn’t - he couldn’t do that to you. instead, he ended up driving around, attempting to forget the words that cut through him like a knife.

the bedroom door swung open, revealing a exhausted luke. his eyes met yours, and a mix of relief and sorrow washed over his face. his once happy and confident demeanor now showed signs of sadness, his shoulders slightly slumped, and his gaze filled with remorse. the tension between you hung heavy, suffocating, as the weight of your argument lingered.

the bedside lamp illuminated your tired features and tear stained cheeks. guilt washed over him as he looked at you. hesitantly, he walked over to the bed, sitting besides you. silence continued to fill the room.

unable to bear the silence any longer, you took a hesitant step forward. your voice was barely above a whisper as you said, "luke, i... i didn't mean those things i said. i'm sorry."

his eyes met yours, searching for sincerity. slowly, he closed the distance between you, bringing you into a bone crushing hug. the room seemed to hold its breath as he nuzzled his face into the crook of your neck, his touch sending a jolt of warmth through your veins.

“do you really think i ruin everything?” his voice cracks as he asks. your heart breaks at his vulnerable state. if only you didn’t say such hurtful things, this wouldn’t be happening. if only you dropped the disagreement instead of turning it into a fight

“of course i don’t, lukey.” you coo, bringing your hand to entangle with his curls. “i was just angry and saying things i didn’t mean. if anything, you do the exact opposite of ruining things.” you pause you take a deep breath, “you can make anything better no matter what. that’s why you’re the perfect boyfriend and i love you so much.”

"i’m sorry too," he finally spoke, his voice filled with remorse and regret. "i shouldn't have said hurtful things either. i love you, and i never wanted to hurt you." the weight of the argument began to lift, replaced by a renewed sense of hope and the promise of healing.

every relationship has it’s own bumps in the road; however, what really matters is how you overcome those bumps with the strength of your love.

[a-d-nox]

More on human design ya-hoo!

human design: the throat

the throat is an energetic hot spot - a motor center for quite a few people. it's the center where creation happens, manifestation occurs, and expression takes place. this is our voice. this where are dream occur and where we determine if we are going to take action to make them happen. this is the place where teaching, leadership, education, and knowledge are at a forefront.

defined: speaking your mind, expressing your emotions, conveying your emotions with ease and sincerity, active, creative, communicative, consistent, confident, making things happen, storytelling, opinionated, good listener, etc.

undefined: chatterbox, struggling to get the point across, dominating a conversation, interrupting others, inconsistent, speech impediments, anxious, silence is power, etc.

gates

8 - contributing: involved, inspiring to others, promoting ideas, honest, constantly wanting to help or have something to add, dislike for being on the sidelines, needing to be in the action, wanting to make a difference, taking charge, directing others, human glue, loyal, respected, etc.

12 - stillness: cautious, shy, concerned, unsure of your own feelings, warning others, wariness, dreamer, idealistic, seeking evolution, procrastinating, moving others, etc.

16 - selectiveness: has foresight, seeing potential, enthusiastic, withdraws, hypercritical of all things, thinks collectively, enthusiastic, a chaser, etc.

20 - grounded: is in the now, thinks about the present moment, limited to no regrets, resents very little, no stress regarding the past, lets go of high expectations, hopeful for the future, watchful, contemplative, etc.

23 - assimilating: bringing dramatic change to the world, shakes life up, seeks new perspectives in all things, radicalism, new approaches, straight to the point, authoritative, sounds knowledgeable/factual, direct, blunt, has profound insight, truthful, etc.

31 - influential: has authority, is hard to ignore, is a leader, reliable, logical, future thinking, gifted director, organized, encourages others, etc.

33 - escapist: storyteller, reflective, succinct, straightforward, meant to experience a lot in this life time, mulls over the past, sharp mind, great memory, chronically fatigued, etc.

35 - progressive: every last drop, opportunistic, a tempest, volatile at times, impatient, expansive, dislikes boredom, seeks experience, love of learning, fears regret, "what if", restless, glass half full, easily frustrated, feeling drained, etc.

45 - together: regal, astute, wealthy, wanting the best for the whole, penny pincher, etc.

56 - wanderer: traveler, wants to broaden their horizons, storyteller, fascinating, constantly feels lost in life, seeks reassurance where they can, dramatic embellishments, human bs detector, stimulated by all things, etc.

62 - detailed: conscientious, broad understanding of all things, hard to be misunderstood, preceptive, factual, logical, thorough, authoritative, compelling, convincing, detached, objective, etc.

no gates: expressive, understanding of all things, can do anything they put their mind to, getting caught up in everyone else's stuff, etc.

channels that connect from the throat to the mind

channels that connect from the throat to the self

8 -> 1 - inspiring: creative, influential, leader, guide, takes charge, has a strong sense of self, trustworthy, motivational, makes things happen, product of their environment, empowering others, etc.

20 -> 10 - aware: has a strong sense of self, loves life, sees beauty in all things, empowers others, shares candor with others, dreams of the world becoming a better place, etc.

31 -> 7 - leader: born leader, know they have purpose despite uncertainty, stands out, recognizable, logical, authoritative, radical, positive change, etc.

31 -> 13 - trustworthy: lead witness, enduring, experiences many things, natural reporter, wise, great listener, talkative, confidante to many, magnetic, the shoulder to cry on, seeks reassurance in many things, nostalgic, sentimental, can read people easily, perceptive, empathetic, etc.

channels that connect from the throat to the heart

45 -> 21 - rich: capable of attracting wealth, comfortable in the material world, likely to be in a position of power, prestigious, freedom, autonomous, etc.

channels that connect from the throat to the spleen

16 -> 48 - talented: creative, masterful, diligent, "everything is just so", perfectionist, wants to get it right the first time, "body electric" by lana del rey, etc.

20 -> 57 - impulsive: intuitive, expressive, one step ahead of everyone else, perceptive, twitchy, thinks on their toes, intrusive thoughts, interrupting others, talking over others, anxious, worried, etc.

channels that connect from the throat to the emotions

12 -> 22 - openness: emotional, has character depth, empowering, vulnerable, unpredictable, makes great things happen, "i took the path less traveled", innovative, calm, self assured, passionate, understanding, mood swings, wants to succeed more than anything, etc.

35 -> 36 - versatility: wants to experience everything, transient person, everything is short lived, has an urgency for living, jack of all trades, master of none, passionate, thrill seeker, makes drama for entertainment, wanderer, etc.

channels that connect from the throat to the sacral

20 -> 34 - bees: active, happiest at work, gets fully immersed in everything they do, unstoppable, capable, charismatic, energetic, to-do lists, empowers others, etc.

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© a-d-nox 2024 all rights reserved

[five-rivers]

Season of the Skies

I started playing a game called Sky: Children of the Light recently, and although this isn't a crossover, it's definitely inspired by the vibes of that. It's a cute game!

Also, based on the feedback I got on AO3, there seems to be a significant overlap between the Phandom and Sky: Cotl players? Is that the case?

.

Reality had broken a month ago, and Danny was having the time of his life.  

He leaped lightly from rooftop to treetop and back again, gravity a dreamy afterthought.  The tiles and bark were rough beneath his bare feet, but not so rough he regretted not wearing shoes.  His impacts shook loose pollen, glitter, and a few stray petals, but did the trees no harm.  On the roofs he was silent, and no one came out to yell at him, but the window glass chimed with flashes of light.

The colors around him were bright and soft. Easy to look at, easy to fall into. The sky above was marbled with dawn-colored clouds and stars caught among distant nebulae.  Light and color were some of the first things to break, and Danny wasn't sorry to see light pollution go.  Most Everything glowed, now, and stargazing would have been terrible if eyes still worked the same way.  

At his next jump, this one taking him up a good ten feet, the feather-soft edge of the shawl he was wearing flared out behind him, brushing his arms.  The shawl was huge on him.  An old project of his great-grandmother's, it had been made with the typical Fenton girth in mind.  Honestly, it fit him more like a cape than a shawl, but he liked it that way.  

He landed safely and straightened the cape.  His dad’s needlepoint hobby had been inherited from her, so the dark blue fabric was covered in fine embroidery, lace, and tiny glass beads in shades of clear, pale blue, and white.  Great Grandma Fenton hadn't been into ghosts the same way the current Fentons were, but she'd been into something, so the patterns were strange.  Icicles, snowflakes, stars, clouds, and trees competed with lightning, runes and sigils, and strange, spirit-like creatures.  

“Hey!” shouted someone from the street below.  “Hey, Fentwerp!  What the hell do you think you're doing?”

Ah.  Dash.  Charming.  Danny leaned over the edge of the roof.  “What does it look like I'm doing?” he asked agreeably.  

“Getting your dumb nerd self killed is what it looks like,” said Dash, glowering up at Danny, his face turning red.

There.  See.  That's what Danny didn't understand.  No one else seemed willing to experiment with how the world was now.  They were all operating under the old rules, or, worse, looking for ways to fix things, as if the new world wasn't better than the old.  

Sure, it had been scary the first few days.  The suddenness.  The uncertainty.  The way systems they had relied on for so long had stuttered or failed outright.  Danny knew people had been hurt, that, in some places, they were still getting hurt.  He had been one of those people, having been in the hospital when the change rippled through the world, a result of an equipment malfunction in his parents’ lab.  

Maybe his opinion would be different if he was still getting hurt.  But as it was… why would he ever want to go back to how things were?  Why would he want to leave this world, where the colors were soft and bright, and the light sang?  Why would he want to leave this world where the air itself seemed to bear him up?  Where the possibilities seemed limitless?

There was so much more potential for good, with the world as it was than as it had been.  So much less potential for harm.  This was a more finished version of the world.  All the rough edges were gone, and filled with wonder.  He could feel it.

“Get down here!” demanded Dash, when Danny didn't respond.  

“No,” said Danny.  

“Get down here or else.”

“Or else what?” asked Danny, genuinely curious.  Dash couldn't get up here.  No one else could, as far as Danny knew. They hadn't taken the time to work out the new rules for gravity. 

Dash clenched his hands into fists, then stooped to grab a fairly large rock.  Danny, seeing no reason to just let Dash throw it at him, left.  

“Hey!” shouted Dash.  “Hey!  Freakton!  Get back here!”

Names like that were a lot less distressing when the people using them had no power to hurt you.  

Danny continued on his path upwards, touching on higher and higher buildings.  It was tough to get the proper amount of momentum to make some of his jumps, especially since he'd stopped to talk to Dash, but he managed to make all of them, and soon he was standing on top of the tallest building in Amity Park.  

In the center of the roof was a small tree, a sapling.  It hadn't been there the first time Danny had made it up here, and it had grown rapidly since then.  Next time he came, it'd probably be taller than he was. 

For now, though, Danny knelt to check the roots where they grew through a widening crack in the building's roof.  He'd warned the people in the building (he had warned everyone in buildings that had suddenly found themselves with roof trees), but he hadn't heard that anyone had done anything about it, and the roof trees felt friendly to him, so he hadn't pushed the issue.  From the descriptions and pictures Sam had given him, this one seemed healthy enough.  

He pulled a bottle from his backpack and gave the tree a generous sprinkle.  Then he stood up, gave the crown of leaves an affectionate ruffle, and made his way to the edge of the roof.

The city spread out in all directions below him, vibrant and changing.  Towards the edges of town, some buildings had lifted off their foundations, becoming floating islands.  Across the viridian, iridescent forest to the north, he could see blue-bright-gray flashes of Lake Eerie.  Fentonworks was easily visible off to the west, silver dishes and spires chased with green halos.  The parks bloomed with flowers both alien and familiar, vines trailing up into the air, trees growing explosively fast.  A breeze from behind turned his attention south, and he saw high clouds letting down shimmering curtains of rain.  

It wasn’t like Amity Park had been drab and horrible before, but why would anyone want to go back?

He looked away, back down at the street far below him.  Steeling himself, he grasped the edges of the shawl, he spread his arms wide.  

“Time to lift off,” he said, quietly.  “T-minus ten, nine, eight, seven, six, five, four, three, two–” Where he would have said one, he instead inhaled deeply.  Where he would have said zero, he jumped.  

For a heart-stopping moment, he wondered if he’d made a terrible mistake, if he’d made an error in his calculations, if reality had chosen that moment to reassert itself and he was about to drop like a rock.  

The moment passed quickly.  He was flying.  Or, at least, gliding.  

He laughed, and flapped his ‘wings.’  The shawl snapped behind him and gave him a small amount of lift.  

He was doing it.  He was doing it.  

And now that he was doing it, it felt as natural as breathing.  All that planning, all those calculations, all that running, climbing, and jumping–

He could fly.  

Oh, maybe it wasn’t as impressive as it would have been in the old world, where gravity was a cruel mistress.  But it was still flight, unpowered, human flight, and no one he knew of had done this before.  

He laughed, and banked to the side, flying in spirals.  He wasn’t brave enough to try a loop, yet, but he would, eventually, when he learned more about this.  

His spirals took him over the park, the school, the mall, even the Nasty Burger.  But he was losing altitude, his arms were getting tired, and he knew that if he got too close to the ground, gravity would get him again.  Not to the point of hurting him at all, but he didn’t want to land just anywhere after all this work.  

He tipped his wings westward, and started gliding home, pumping his ‘wings’ as infrequently as he could get away with.  He didn’t quite make it all the way back to his front door, but he got close, just a few houses down the street.  He rubbed his shoulders.  That was going to leave him sore.  He’d have to work out and practice more if he wanted to fly any real distance.  He'd also need a way to take off that didn’t involve climbing the tallest building in town. 

The front door of Fentonworks slammed open, revealing a pale Jack and a furiously pink Maddie.

“Daniel James Fenton!  What do you think you're doing?”

Danny looked down at his bare feet, then back up at his parents.  “Walking?”

Maddie sucked a breath in between her teeth.  “Inside,” she said

Danny hurried to obey, taking the steps up to the door two at a time and squeezing past her and Jack to get into the house.  Maddie closed the door behind him. 

“So, um,” said Danny, shuffling from foot to foot.  “What, um.  I thought you guys were going to be working all day today?”

“On the Ops Center,” said Jack.  “Not in the la– Not downstairs.”

Danny made note of the near-slip but didn’t comment on it.  He was already in trouble.  He didn’t need to remind them that the lab didn’t exactly exist anymore and make their mood worse.  

“Oh,” he said.  “What were you–?”

“Never mind what we were doing.  What were you doing?  What were you thinking, jumping off a building like that?  You could have died?”

“Or been seriously hurt!”

“But I wasn’t!  I’m fine.  I planned it all out, and it worked.”

“And it shouldn’t have!” shouted Jack and Maddie at the same time.  

Danny blinked up at them.  “What?”

Jack explained.  “We’ve been tracking the changes to gravity, too, Danny.  We’ve been measuring it, measuring all the changes, to see what those darn ghosts did.”

Danny held back a sigh.  There still wasn’t any sign that ghosts had done this, or even that ghosts existed.  

“Gravity might have changed a bit,” continued Jack, “but not enough to keep a human being airborne like that.”

“There are whole buildings floating,” said Danny.  “I’m a lot smaller than a building.”

“The rules seem to be different for different masses, as well as different altitudes,” said Maddie, making a face.  

“Yeah!  It’s really exciting.  We’re trying to measure the ectoplasm levels– It has to be related, but we haven’t been able to detect any yet– Those ghosts are tricky, son–”  

“Well, yeah.  But the rules are also different for things that are alive.”

“Really?” asked Jack, leaning close.  

“Uh, yes?  Otherwise I wouldn’t have done, um.  That.  I tested it.”

“You tested it?  Did you write it down?”

Danny nodded, cautiously.  Jack swept him off his feet.  “Our boy has been doing science, Mads!”

“He’s been jumping off of buildings!”

“Putting his research to practical use!”

“He’s been jumping off buildings without being peer reviewed!”

“Oh, yeah, son, you should have had someone check your work.”

“You never get peer reviewed,” said Danny, scowling.  

“That’s different,” said Maddie, quickly.  

“If anyone else believed in ghosts, you’d be sure we would be!”  

Hanging limp in Jack’s arms, Danny grumbled.  

“Danny,” said Maddie.  

“Yes?” he mumbled.  

“No more testing theories without checking in with us first.  Safety first.  You should know this by now.”

Danny hunched his shoulders and tried not to think too hard about his scars.  They weren’t very visible, and the doctors had said that they’d fade away, probably entirely, eventually, but they were still there now, if you knew where to look.

A month ago, reality had broken.  

A few days before that, Danny had almost died.  Lab accident.  It turned out that his parents thought portals to other dimensions which may or may not exist needed a lot of electricity and chemicals to function.  Danny had been curious.  He’d wanted to explore, to investigate.  He’d stepped on a loose wire that had led to a capacitor.  He’d been horribly electrocuted, and then exposed to a chemical cocktail.  Sam and Tucker, who had been in the lab with him, had called for an ambulance, and he’d been brought to the hospital.

At least, that’s what he was told, later.  He hadn’t woken up until he’d been in the hospital for a few days.  Of course, when he had woken up, he did so because a bunch of the medicines going into him had started to do weird things while reality restructured itself, and that had been… incredibly unpleasant.  Everyone had been grateful that only a very few things - like whatever Danny had been on to take care of the chemicals he’d picked up in the lab - had acted like that.

Later, Jazz had told Danny that for a brief period of time between the accident and reality breaking, Jack and Maddie had sworn off ghost hunting.  Presumably forever.  But once the laws of physics, chemistry, and biology started to rebel and twist, they’d taken it back.  Well, to be fair, apparently they didn’t take it back until the lab disappeared.  And the Fenton Stockades.    

Although, to be fair in the other direction, it was more a case of everyone’s basements disappearing and being replaced by weird misty caverns than ghosts specifically targeting his parents.  It was a whole thing. 

(Personally, Danny was glad to see them go, although it had sounded like Sam was mourning hers.)

“Danny,” said Maddie, “tell us that you understand.”

“I understand.  I don’t test theories without you,” said Danny, grudgingly.  “Not even about cool things like flying.”

Maddie scowled.  Jack beamed.  

“Great!” shouted Jack.  He whirled Danny around again.  “Let’s go see your data!  Where is it?”

“Upstairs,” mumbled Danny.  “I’ve got a notebook.”

“A notebook, Mads!”  

Maddie sighed.  “Alright, let’s see the notebook.”

[austinswife]

ALWAYS YOUR SECOND CHOICE - ‘Buck’ Cleven

PART 01 || 02

SYNOPSIS — After walking away from Gale “Buck” Cleven, leaving behind the love you thought you had, Buck is sent on another mission during the war. Though you thought your relationship was over, a letter from Buck arrives before his departure, forcing you to confront the unresolved emotions and the difficult choices you’ve made.

WARNING(S) — Themes of heartbreak, regret, and unresolved tension, emotional turmoil, reflection, potential reconciliation or heartbreak.

𝜗𝜚 ALL FEEDBACKS, IDEAS SUGGESTION — TO AUSTINSWIFE

The days had dragged by since you walked away from Buck, the man you thought you would spend your life with. You had never imagined your relationship would come to this—a painful, confusing ending that left you questioning whether it had ever been real at all. The ache in your chest was constant, a dull pain that never fully went away, no matter how hard you tried to push it down.

It had taken every ounce of strength you had to leave him, to walk out the door and force yourself to believe that you deserved better, even if your heart hadn’t fully accepted it. You had convinced yourself that you were doing the right thing, that staying would only mean more heartbreak. But now that he was gone—off to war, with no guarantee that he would return—the uncertainty felt suffocating.

Every day, you found yourself wondering where he was, what he was doing. If he was safe. If he was thinking about you the way you were thinking about him. But you tried to push those thoughts aside. You had made your choice, and you had to stick to it. There was no point in holding on to false hope, not when the pain still ran so deep.

One morning, as you were finishing up chores on the farm, the mail truck arrived. You didn’t think much of it until you saw the letter, your name scrawled across the front in Buck’s familiar handwriting.

Your heart skipped a beat as you stared down at the envelope, your hands shaking as you carefully tore it open. For a moment, you weren’t sure if you could bring yourself to read it. What could he possibly have to say after everything that had happened? But curiosity—and the unresolved feelings you still harbored—won out.

You unfolded the letter, the familiar weight of his words pressing down on you as you began to read.

Y/N,

By the time you read this, I’ll be gone on another mission. I don’t know how much time I have left to write, but there are things I need to say—things I didn’t say when you stood in front of me, tears in your eyes, asking me to choose you.

I know I hurt you. I know I’ve let you down in ways I can’t even begin to explain, and I don’t blame you for leaving. You’re right—I haven’t made you feel like my first choice, and for that, I’m sorry. I’m so goddamn sorry.

When I was with you, everything was easy. You never asked for anything more than what I could give. But that’s what makes it worse, doesn’t it? You deserved so much more, and I failed to give it to you.

I don’t know how to fix what I broke, and the truth is, maybe I can’t. You told me that you wouldn’t be waiting for me when I came back, and I understand. You deserve more than the man I’ve been. But I need you to know something, Y/N. I need you to know the truth.

I love you.

Maybe I didn’t show it right, maybe I didn’t say it enough, but I love you. More than I’ve ever loved anyone. More than her. And I know what you’re thinking—why didn’t I prove it? Why did I always run to her?

I don’t have the answers that will make this right. The only thing I can say is that I’ve been a fool. I was trying to hold onto the past because it felt like something I needed to protect. But the more I held onto her, the more I realized I was losing the one thing I couldn’t live without—you.

I’ve been selfish, and I didn’t see it until it was too late. I know I may not get the chance to make this right. I don’t know what’s waiting for me out there, but I didn’t want to leave without telling you this.

If I don’t come back, I need you to know that I never stopped thinking about you. About us. About what we could’ve been if I hadn’t been such a coward.

I wish I could be there with you right now, telling you all of this face-to-face, begging for your forgiveness, but I can’t. I just hope that when this war is over, and if I’m lucky enough to come home, there’s still a chance. Even if it’s small. Even if it’s broken.

If I come back, I want to try to be the man you deserve.

But if this is the last letter you ever get from me, then I want you to know that you were the love of my life, Y/N. Always. I’m sorry I didn’t realize it sooner.

Be safe. Live your life fully, even if I’m not there to see it. You deserve that and so much more.

Yours always, Buck

You stared at the letter in your hands, Buck’s words blurring as tears welled in your eyes. You hadn’t expected this. You hadn’t expected him to say the things you had been so desperate to hear when you were still together. The apology, the confession of love—it was all there, written on the page like a final plea for your forgiveness.

But what hurt the most was knowing that he had only come to these realizations after you had left, after it was too late. After you had walked out that door, heartbroken and certain that you could never come back from the betrayal.

Your thoughts drifted back to that day, the moment when you had finally confronted him. You had stood there, spilling your heart out, telling him how much it hurt to feel like a second choice. You had reminded him about the time you were in the hospital—how sick you had been, how scared. You had asked him to come, needed him by your side more than ever, but he couldn’t.

You understood that he couldn’t leave the base. You had accepted that… until Marge called. She had needed him, and without a second thought, he dropped everything and ran to her. That had been the breaking point—the moment when you realized you couldn’t keep being the one left behind.

"It hurt so much, Buck. Too much for me to handle. I don’t even know if I’ll ever heal from this, because the more I love you, the more it hurts."

You had said those words through tears, your heart breaking even as you spoke them. And now, here you were again, crying over the same man, the same wounds.

But his letter… it was different. It wasn’t enough to erase the hurt, but it was something. It was the truth, finally. He had admitted to everything you’d been afraid of, and while that should have made it easier, it only made it more complicated.

Because despite everything, you still loved him. No matter how much he had hurt you, no matter how much you told yourself that you were done, you couldn’t stop loving him. You couldn’t turn off that part of your heart, no matter how hard you tried.

Buck had said he didn’t know if he’d come back. The thought of him not returning from the war sent a wave of panic through you, an emptiness settling in your chest. What if this was the last letter you ever got from him? What if he never came home?

You couldn’t shake the feeling of dread, the uncertainty of war hanging over both of your heads. But there was something else there too—a small, fragile flicker of hope. He had said that if he came back, he wanted to try. He wanted to be the man you deserved.

But could you give him that chance? Could you let yourself hope for a future where things would be different, where you wouldn’t always feel like second best? Or would the wounds run too deep to ever fully heal?

You didn’t have the answers. Not yet. All you had was the letter, and the words he had written—I love you. More than her.—echoing in your mind.

For now, all you could do was hope he came back safe. Hope that maybe, one day, you could have the conversation you had both been too afraid to have. And maybe, just maybe, you could find a way to rebuild what had been broken.

But for now, you would wait. Not for him, but for clarity. For a future where you could make the choice that was right for you.

It had been weeks since Buck’s last letter—weeks that felt like an eternity, stretched taut with fear and uncertainty. Every day that passed without word from him made your heart ache, the silence becoming more unbearable than anything you could’ve imagined.

The last letter from him had left you reeling. It had been filled with apologies, admissions of his failures, and confessions of love, all wrapped up in the kind of raw vulnerability you hadn’t seen from Buck in the months leading up to your breakup. And now, there was nothing but empty space where his words should’ve been.

You had told yourself you were done with him. That after everything—the constant running to her, the feeling of being second best, the hurt that had built up like a wall between you—there was no going back. You had told yourself that walking away was the right decision. But your heart… your heart didn’t seem to care.

It had been weeks of trying to distract yourself, of throwing yourself into the farm work, keeping busy, and pretending that you weren’t waiting for him. But every time you saw the mail truck drive by, your heart would skip a beat. Every time you saw the sky, clear and blue, you’d think of him up there, flying, and you’d wonder—where was he? Was he safe? Was he thinking of you?

And then, one cold afternoon, just as the sky was turning gray with winter clouds, the letter came.

You hadn’t expected it—weren’t even sure you could handle it—but when you saw the envelope with his name scrawled across it in that familiar handwriting, something inside you twisted. This wasn’t like the other letters. The paper was worn, dirt-smudged at the corners. The handwriting was different—uneven, hurried.

Your hands trembled as you tore it open, your stomach churning with both fear and hope. The moment you read the first line, your breath caught in your throat, and the world seemed to tilt on its axis.

Y/N,

I don’t know how this letter will reach you, but I hope to God it does. I’m writing from a German POW camp. My plane was shot down on our last mission, and I’ve been captured. There’s no easy way to say this, and I hate to think of you reading this, worrying about me even more than you probably already do.

I’m not hurt, not really, just tired. Tired in a way I can’t explain. But I’m alive, and that’s something, right?

I think about you every single day. Even more so now that I’m here, in a place where everything seems so far away and unreal. But you—you’re always with me. I still have your picture, the one you gave me before everything went wrong. I keep it tucked in my left jacket pocket, right over my heart. I put it there the day you left, and it hasn’t moved since.

There are nights when I pull it out and just stare at it, thinking of you, wondering if I’ll ever get the chance to see you again. I remember how it felt to hold you, how you laughed, how you’d roll your eyes at my stupid jokes. It’s what keeps me going, even here, even now.

I know you might still be angry. Hell, I’m still angry at myself. I keep thinking about what I did, about how I didn’t deserve the love you gave me. But it’s all I have now—your love. Even if you don’t forgive me, even if I never get to fix what I broke, I want you to know that carrying your love with me is the only thing getting me through this.

I’m not asking for forgiveness in this letter. I’m not asking for anything, really. I just wanted you to know that if I make it out of here alive, it’s because of you. I’m still fighting to come home to you.

I love you, Y/N. I love you more than I’ll ever be able to say.

Yours always, Buck

The letter fell from your hands as you pressed your palm to your mouth, tears filling your eyes as you let the words sink in. He was alive. He was still out there, somewhere, thinking of you, carrying your picture in his jacket—next to his heart.

He had been shot down. Captured.

Your heart pounded in your chest, fear coursing through your veins as you tried to imagine what he must be going through. A Prisoner Of War camp. The thought alone sent chills through you. You didn’t know what conditions he was in, how dangerous it was, how much time he had left. But he was alive. And that was something.

But more than that… he still loved you.

I love you more than I’ll ever be able to say.

You stared down at the letter, reading and rereading those words, your chest tight with emotion. All this time, you had tried to convince yourself that you were done, that you had moved on, that walking away from him was the right choice. But deep down, you knew the truth.

You hadn’t stopped loving him.

Buck’s words brought back memories—memories of the man you fell in love with before everything became so complicated. The man who made you laugh, who held you when the world felt too heavy. The man who could make you feel like you were the only person that mattered, even when everything else was falling apart.

But those memories were tangled up with the hurt, the betrayal, the constant running to her. You had wanted to be his first choice, but it had always felt like you were second. Even now, those wounds hadn’t healed. You didn’t know if they ever would.

But in this moment, none of that seemed to matter. All that mattered was that Buck was still out there, still fighting to come home. And if he was still fighting… maybe you could too.

You had never written him back after leaving, but now, for the first time since you’d walked away, you felt ready to speak. You pulled out a piece of paper and sat at the small wooden table, the pen feeling heavy in your hand as you began to write the first letter since you had said goodbye.

Buck,

I don’t even know where to begin. I’m sitting here, rereading your letter, and all I can think is, thank God you’re alive. Thank God you’re okay. I’ve been so afraid, Buck. I’ve been terrified that I’d never hear from you again, that I’d never get the chance to say what’s been in my heart since I left.

It’s hard for me to put into words how I’ve felt these past few months. You hurt me in ways I didn’t think were possible, and I won’t pretend that those scars have healed. But reading your letter, knowing that you still carry my picture with you, knowing that you’re fighting to come home to me… it’s brought everything into perspective.

I still love you, Buck. I never stopped, not even after I walked away. It hurt so much because I loved you so much. And that love hasn’t gone away. I can’t deny it anymore.

When you told me you were running to her because she needed you, it felt like a betrayal. Like I would always come second in your life. I needed you too, Buck, but you weren’t there. And that broke me. I won’t lie to you—it still breaks me.

But despite all of that, I’m sitting here writing to you because my heart refuses to let go of you. You’re still a part of me, even now. And I want you to know that if—when—you come back, I’ll be here. I’ll be waiting for you.

I’m not ready to say I forgive you, not yet. There’s still a lot to work through, a lot that needs to be said between us. But what I can say is this: I love you. I’ve always loved you, and I’ll keep loving you, no matter what happens.

So come back to me, Buck. Please, come back safe. We’ll figure the rest out when you’re home.

Yours, Y/N

As you finished the letter, you folded it carefully, your hands trembling with a mixture of hope and fear. The fear of losing him again was overwhelming, but the hope—the hope that maybe, just maybe, you could have a future together—was enough to keep you going.

You sealed the envelope and handed it to the postman the next day, your heart heavy with all the things left unsaid, yet lightened by the chance to say what truly mattered.

The days after sending the letter passed slowly, the uncertainty gnawing at you as you waited, hoping for some kind of word—some kind of sign that Buck was still holding on. You pictured him pulling out your photo, keeping it close as he faced each day, and it gave you the strength to keep going.

You didn’t know if he would get your letter, didn’t know if he would make it back to you. But the one thing you did know was that love—your love for Buck—was still there. And no matter how broken things had been, no matter how much hurt had passed between you, that love was still worth fighting for.

Now, all you could do was wait. Again…

[strnsvt]

lee chan — a journey beyond playground.

you were 7, and so was chan, as he observed you always accompanying your older brother, soonyoung, to the playground. where you would sit on a bench, with a stray cat on your lap, observing your brother play football with his friends.

seated in your familiar spot, you would find solace in the routines of watching and the comforting presence of the stray cat amidst the playful chaos of the field.

then suddenly an accident occurred — the football flew over to you, hitting right on your head, causing the startled cat to hiss and run away, as you instinctively pressed your palms against where the football hit you.

your brother ran towards you, hurriedly asking if you were alright, cupping your face to look at your head. as you winced from the sudden impact, another concerned figure darted towards you— chan, rushing to your aid. "you ok? im sorry," he says, worry evident in his voice. you just looked down, tears falling from your eyes as your brother consoles you, "don't cry, don't cry,"

reaching out a tentative hand, unsure of how to comfort you. chan's eyes searched for a solution, a way to erase the mistake, but at that moment, his presence alone offered a strange reassurance. your tear-filled gaze met his, and a wordless understanding passed between you.

you stopped accompanying your brother to the playground then after and chan's remorse weighed heavily on his young shoulders, blaming himself for your absence from the playground. days turned into months, and the field felt emptier without your presence, a void chan couldn't shake off.

chan was 9, and so were you, when soonyoung invited him to your house. chan felt a mix of nervousness and anticipation as he followed soonyoung to your house. the memories of the accident weighed heavily on his mind.

upon reaching your doorstep, soonyoung rang the doorbell, the sound echoing through the silence. as the door creaked open, chan's heart raced with uncertainty. he glanced up, meeting your gaze as you stood in the doorway, a mix of surprise and curiosity flashing across your face. "i've got chan along,"

while soonyoung excused himself to the bathroom, chan and you sat on the sofa, the living room filled with silence. so chan starts — he calls your name, asking you why you don't join your brother to the playground. you simply shrug, telling him that you've found football boring, and that you've found a hobby to entertain yourself with. as soonyoung returned from the bathroom, the conversation shifted to lighter topics.

chan's visit became a catalyst, planting the seeds of a potential return to the playground, and perhaps, the rekindling of a friendship that had been paused by an unexpected accident.

you were 12, and so was chan, when you two had become good friends, or more. chan would hold your hand and take you to his secret hideout.

once, chan, took you to his hideout and kissed you on the cheek. overwhelmed by shyness, you slapped him. your cheeks flushed red with embarrassment as you quickly averted your gaze, feeling flustered by the unexpected turn of events.

chan, taken aback by your reaction, immediately pulled back, his eyes widening in astonishment. "i'm so sorry...i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable," he stammered, regret and concern evident in his voice.

the both of you go to college now. you being busy with your academics and a goal in your mind to top all your classes, didn't interact with chan or any of your friends.

sitting across from each other, chan and soonyoung ate in a rather uneasy silence. chan sighs, "what is it hyung?"

soonyoung simply takes a bite out of the bread.

"hyung, you're making it worse,"

"lee chan. . .do you like y/n?"

soonyoung's question hung heavy in the air, the silence amplifying its weight. chan, taken aback by the directness of the inquiry, paused for a moment, his gaze shifting uncomfortably before meeting soonyoung's eyes. "what?"

"im serious, chan, my sister doesn't need a distraction from her studies."

"you're treating her like she's seven." chan scoffs, "hyung, we've grown now. you know you should stop being so overprotective to her."

"i know what im doing. im her brother, you brat,"

"i get it, hyung. but it's not the same anymore. we've all grown up, including y/n," chan replied, trying to convey a sense of maturity in his perspective.

soonyoung's protective instincts clashed with the reality of your maturity and growth. "i just worry that distractions might affect her,"

"i promise i won't be a distraction,"

"what?"

chan cleared his throat, feeling the weight of soonyoung's scrutiny. "i mean, i'd be there for her, support her with her studies. not be a distraction but, you know, be by her side when she needs it. as a friend," he shifted uncomfortably, his attempt at clarification still sounding ambiguous.

soonyoung studied chan for a moment, contemplating his sincerity. "alright, but if you hurt her—"

"i won't," chan interjected firmly, meeting soonyoung's gaze with earnestness. "i care about her too, hyung. i won't do anything to jeopardize what matters to her."

the days following that breakfast conversation felt different for chan. he attempted to strike a balance between his studies, social life, and keeping an eye out for you without being intrusive.

days turned into weeks, and chan and you found yourselves engaging in lengthy conversations whenever they managed to steal moments away from your busy schedules. chan, eager to maintain your connection, often initiated your talks, showing genuine interest in your life beyond academics.

"y/n," chan said, leaning in closer, wrapping an arm around your shoulders, "imagine the adventure we could have out there."

"hm?"

"you wanna sneak out for a long drive?"

"what?"

"im serious, y/n,"

"chan, you know my brother-"

"im not afraid of him. i could never be afraid of someone who genuinely believes that he is a tiger,"

"dont make fun of him,"

"sorry, sorry," he chuckles, "but im serious. we'll be careful, i promise," he assured, a mischievous grin playing on his lips. "besides, when was the last time you did something spontaneous?"

"...never?"

"exactly,"

the same night, chan helped you sneak out of your bedroom window. "ready?" chan asked, his excitement contagious.

you hesitated, "but where would we go? and won't we be missed?"

"we'll be back before anyone notices, i promise," chan reassures, his eyes sparkling with enthusiasm. "trust me, it'll be unforgettable."

and it was. playing music out loud with the windows rolled down as the wind blew through your hair. as the night unfolded, the road stretched ahead, lit by the moon's gentle glow.

under the moonlit sky, chan and you found solace in these stolen moments. each night brought new adventures, laughter echoing through the quiet streets as you both embraced the thrill of spontaneity. the world felt alive, and so did your connection.

one night, as you sat on the hood of chan's car, gazing at the stars, he turned to you, his eyes filled with sincerity. "y/n," he began, "the moon is beautiful isn't it?"

a soft smile played on your lips as you say, "these nights mean a lot to me,"

"me too," he says with a smile of his own.

he watched you looking up at the moon. a soft breeze played with your hair as he leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss on your cheek, making you look at him. "god, i've always wanted to do that,"

"i know,"

"you know?"

"you kissed me when we were like...twelve. that too at that hideout you always took me to,"

"yeah but even before that,"

"before that?"

"yeah. since i was nine...or seven,"

"seven? that young?"

"movies influenced me, what can i say?"

as the laughter subsided, chan's gaze remained fixed on you. the moonlit night held an air of quiet understanding, and you found yourself closing your eyes as chan leans in to place his lips on yours in a chaste kiss-

is what should have happened. instead what you got was a call from your brother.

a/n: super duper rushed ending im sry😔

[barelytolerabled]

Hi sorry this is rlly depressing but can you do a Spencer x wife!Reader where reader had a miscarriage or something idk

Fragments of Healing

Spencer Reid x wife!Reader

Summary: ⬆️

Warnings: miscarriage, grief

WC: 1.624

Taglist: @envraijesaispas @rosecentury @taygrls @thisismeraki @thenerdthatwrites @bigbunnygucci @jordie-gvf @twdgviolets

The house was too quiet, the stillness settling heavily upon your heart. Sitting on the edge of the bed, you clutched your stomach, aching with the knowledge that something was wrong. A mix of fear and worry coursed through your veins as you dialed Spencer's number for what felt like the hundredth time that day. Voicemail. He was away on a case, and it seemed like he was unreachable.

Days had passed since you started feeling off, but Spencer had convinced you it was just your nerves. His brilliant mind, always so logical and rational, couldn't fathom the possibility of anything going wrong. But deep down, you knew something wasn't right. With each passing moment, your unease grew, and now it had become a relentless torment.

Desperate for support, you reached for your phone and dialed JJ's number, praying that your friend would pick up.

"JJ, please," you pleaded, your voice wavering. "I can't take it anymore. I don't know what's happening, and Spencer's not here. I need you."

JJ's voice, laced with concern, filled the line. "I'm on my way. Just hold on. You're not alone."

You clung to the phone, feeling a glimmer of hope wash over you. JJ had always been a compassionate friend, and you knew you could trust her. In your fragile state, the mere thought of facing Spencer's potential reaction terrified you.

Minutes felt like an eternity until you heard a knock on your front door. You hastily wiped away your tears and opened it to reveal JJ, her eyes filled with concern.

"Hey, are you okay?" JJ asked, pulling you into a comforting hug. "What happened?"

"I don't know," you whispered, your voice barely audible. "I've been feeling off, and the pain... it's unbearable."

JJ guided you to the couch, settling you down with a gentle touch. "Let's get you to a hospital, okay? We'll figure this out together."

Tears streamed down your face as you nodded, grateful for JJ's unwavering support. The drive to the hospital was a blur, and soon you found yourself in a sterile room, surrounded by doctors and nurses who worked tirelessly to assess your condition. JJ remained at your side, her presence a constant source of comfort in the midst of your fear and uncertainty.

Hours turned into eternity, until finally, a doctor approached you with solemn eyes. Your worst fears were confirmed in that moment. You have lost your baby.

The world crumbled around you as the doctor explained the details. Your heartache was overwhelming, and a fresh wave of grief washed over you. You clung to JJ, who held you tight, offering a silent solace in your darkest moment.

Meanwhile, Spencer's mind raced as he traveled back home, eager to see his beloved wife after the long and grueling case. He anticipated sharing stories of his triumphs, unaware of the impending devastation that awaited him.

Arriving at the familiar threshold, he noticed the eerie silence that enveloped the house. Panic gripped him, and he called out for you, hoping for a response that would dissolve the knot of anxiety tightening in his chest. But the only response was the echo of his own voice, as if the walls were mocking him.

Frantic, Spencer searched every room, his heart pounding in his ears. His gaze fell upon the missed calls and voicemail notifications on his phone. As he listened to your trembling voice, describing the anguish that had transpired, a cold wave of realization washed over him.

Tears welled up in Spencer's eyes as he understood the depth of his failure. He hadn't been there when you needed him most, leaving you to suffer alone. Guilt and regret threatened to consume him, his hands shaking with sorrow and remorse.

His trembling fingers dialed JJ's number, praying for answers. JJ hesitated before answering, sensing Spencer's anxiety.

"JJ, where is she? Is she okay? Why isn't she answering her phone?" Spencer's voice cracked with worry.

JJ's voice softened, knowing the difficult conversation that lay ahead. "Spencer, She... she needed me. She's with me right now."

Silence hung heavy on the line as Spencer tried to process the information. Concern mixed with confusion and fear. "Why? What happened? Is she hurt?"

Taking a deep breath, JJ gently explained, "Spencer, she had lost it. She needed support, and she was scared of how you'd react. She needed time to process everything."

Spencer's heart shattered into a million pieces, the weight of his absence crashing down on him. Guilt and grief washed over him in a torrent. He felt the overwhelming urge to be by your side, to hold you and share in your pain.

"I need to see her, JJ," he managed to say, his voice strained with emotion. "Please, tell her I'm coming. I... I love her so much."

JJ assured him that you needed time, but promised to pass along his message. She knew that healing would take time, but also believed in the strength of your love.

Finally, the moment arrived when Spencer stood outside JJ's door, his hand trembling as he raised it to knock. The door swung open, revealing a tired and sympathetic JJ. Her eyes met his, filled with unspoken understanding.

"She's upstairs," JJ said softly, leading Spencer to where you were seeking refuge.

As he climbed the stairs, Spencer's heart pounded in his chest, the anticipation of seeing you mingling with the fear of what he might find. He pushed open the door to JJ's spare room and saw you sitting on the bed, wrapped in a blanket, your eyes red and puffy from crying.

"Honey," Spencer's voice was barely a whisper, choked with emotion. "I'm here."

You looked up at him, your gaze filled with both pain and a glimmer of hope. "Spencer..."

Without hesitation, Spencer crossed the room and enveloped you in his arms, holding you tightly against his chest as you both wept. The weight of your loss settled between you, an unspoken bond formed through shared grief.

"I'm so sorry," Spencer murmured into your hair, his voice filled with regret. "I should have been there for you. I should have listened."

You clung to him, finding solace in his presence despite the pain. "We'll get through this together, Spencer. We have to."

He nodded, his grip on you never faltering. "I love you, I love you so much. And I'm here for you, now and always."

The drive back to your house was filled with a mixture of anticipation and apprehension. Spencer's grip on the steering wheel tightened as he glanced over at you, his eyes filled with worry and uncertainty. He couldn't shake the guilt that weighed heavily on his shoulders, knowing he had let you down when you needed him most.

As you pulled into the driveway, the familiar sight of home brought a bittersweet ache to your heart. It was a reminder of the life that was supposed to be, now shattered by loss. But you also found solace in returning to a space that held memories of love and comfort.

The front door creaked open as you and Spencer cautiously stepped into the house that had once been filled with joy and anticipation. Now, it felt haunted by grief and loss. The air was heavy with a mix of sorrow and tentative hope.

As you entered the familiar space, Spencer's hesitance was palpable. He kept a respectful distance, giving you the space you needed to navigate this painful return. It was evident in his every movement and the way his eyes lingered on you, searching for any sign of your comfort.

Silence hung in the air as you both stood in the living room, the weight of the past few days bearing down on your weary shoulders. You took a deep breath, summoning the strength to move forward, but uncertainty still gnawed at you.

The two of you slowly made your way upstairs, hand in hand, the quietness of the house amplifying your footsteps. In the bedroom, Spencer helped you settle onto the bed, arranging the pillows for your comfort. His touch was gentle and tender, as if he feared causing you any further pain.

Once you were situated, Spencer began to gather his belongings, preparing to retreat to the couch, intending to give you space to rest and heal. But before he could step away, you reached out and caught his hand, your eyes pleading with him.

"Please, Spencer," you whispered, your voice filled with vulnerability. "Stay here with me tonight. I don't want to be alone."

Spencer's gaze met yours, his hesitation giving way to a deep understanding. Without a word, he set aside his belongings and gently climbed onto the bed beside you, ensuring he maintained a respectful distance.

"I'm here," he murmured, his voice laced with tenderness. "I won't leave your side."

A sense of comfort settled within you as you curled up against Spencer, his warmth and steady presence a balm to your wounded heart. With his arms wrapped protectively around you, you felt a glimmer of peace amidst the pain.

The room was enveloped in a quiet stillness, broken only by the soft sound of your breathing and the occasional brush of Spencer's fingers through your hair. The night stretched before you, an expanse of time to heal and rebuild.

In that moment, you knew that while the road to recovery would be challenging, you would face it together. With Spencer by your side, his commitment to supporting you unyielding, you felt the flicker of hope reignite within your weary soul.

As you drifted off to sleep, cradled in Spencer's embrace, you held onto that hope tightly, trusting that love would guide you through the darkness and lead you towards a brighter tomorrow.

[mytheoristavenue]

MHA Mezo Shoji x Reader - Make Believe - III

Summary: You ask Shoji to pretend to be your boyfriend for a dinner with your parents.

Warnings: long, muli-parted, mutual pining, fake dating trope, fem!reader

Embarrassed, you both disembark from the train, stepping onto the platform, Shoji's arm still securely around your shoulders for stability on clearing the gap. There's an obvious elephant in the room, but it's almost as if it's a secret, even for the both of you, neither wanting to speak on it for fear of the other being unaware.

Eventually, you feel his touch begin to slip away, making your heart sink, missing it as you both begin to walk toward the train station exit. Finally, you break the silence. "My parent's place is pretty close by, just a few blocks from here, actually."

"Living so close to the tracks must be difficult," he thought allowed eyes stuck forward.

"It isn't so bad, once you get used to the noise. Before I moved to the dorms, it was like I couldn't even hear it anymore." Shoji could care less for the idle chatter, his mind still on the ride here. He was never one to beat around the bush, so he decided to speak up.

"Hey, (Y/N)? Why did you say that this was a bad idea on the train?" He asked, voice calm, but with a hint of somberness. "Do you regret bringing me?"

You glanced up at him, surprised by his genuineness. "What? Shoji, no! It's nothing to do with you, you've been perfect!" You confess, stopping on the sidewalk, and staring down at your shoes. "I'm the problem."

"How so?" he asked, eyeing you with uncertainty.

"I feel like I should have planned this out more..." you admitted. "I mean, what am I gonna do when the holidays come around? I could just say we broke up but if my family likes you, they'd be sad, or they'd belittle me for bringing someone home before the relatsionship got serious-"

Your rambling was put to rest by a sturdy, comforting hand on your shoulder. "Hey, calm down," he soothed, stroking his thumb over your skin. "We can cross that bridge when we get to it. For all we know your parents could hate me and be overjoyed to hear we broke up." he laughed, comforting you.

"That won't happen..." you said, awkwardly rubbing your arm. "I...I picked you because you have all the qualities they'd love to see in a partner for me. You're strong and protective, kind and gentle, intelligent... You're a walking green flag."

Shoji could help but avert his gaze, cheeks aglow from your praise. "T-That's not true," he dnied, weakly, secretly hoping you'd continue to disagree, and to his delight, you did.

"No, Shoji, I'm serious," you persisted. "You're caring and passionate about your friends, you're handsome... You'd be the perfect boyfriend to anyone... I'm just sorry you're having to waste that on me."

"I don't consider it wasted..." he confessed bashfully. "But, for the record, I'm willing to be your fake boyfriend as long as you need. Even if it means coming back for the holidays."

"Shoji..." you mutter at his words, stunned by what they could potentially mean.

"Please, call me Mezo," he corrected, wrinkles forming beside his eyes, indicating a sweet smile under his mask.

"M-Mezo..." you stammered, unsure of whether or not to let the words fall off your lips. "There's another reason I asked you over anyone else..."

"Oh?" he stiffened a bit, offering you space to continue. "What is it?"

"Well...I think I might have a little cru-"

Suddenly, you jump at the sound of your phone ringing, startling you both. Taking it out of your bag, you notice that it's your mother calling. Anxiously, you slide the button to the right and answer the call. "Hey, Mom-"

"You didn't miss your train did you?" she immediately asks, worried.

"No, Mom, I made the train on time." You groaned lightly.

"Was it delayed?"

"No, Mom-"

"Well, did you make it to the station?"

"Yes-"

"Well, what's taking you so long? Did you get lost? Do I need to send your father to pick you up? Where are you-"

"Mom, please," you begged with an annoyed sigh. "We're like a block away, we'll be there in a few minutes."

"We?" she asked, confused before squealing. "Oh, you brought your boyfriend?!"

"Yep," you replied, nonchalantly.

"Well, hurry up and get here, we all can't wait to meet him!" Your heart suddenly sank. There were only supposed to be a few people there, what did she mean 'all'? Before you had a chance to ask, she spoke again. "Listen, I gotta go, honey, the soup needs stirring! Hurry home, love you!" With that, the line fell dead. Slumping your shoulders, you turned to face Shoji again.

"My mom says to hurry home..." you trailed, wishing to pick up the conversation where it left off. "And I think she might have invited more people than she told me. I'm sorry in advance."

"Don't be," he smiled. "I'm sure they can't be that bad." Reassuring you, he offered an arm for you to take as he began to walk forward again. you took it gratefully, not even caring about touching him anymore, you were just happy to have a comforting gesture from him. Within minutes of walking, you crested a hill, and your parents' apartment building came into view. It was a tall complex with many floors, the eighth being the one you called home. Stepping into the front entrance, you were greeted with a familiar smell which gave you a warm feeling of nostalgia as you made your way to the elevator, followed by your 'boyfriend'.

"What floor?" he asked, stepping forward to push the button.

"Eighth," you replied with a smile. "Thank you." You stood stick straight, hands clasped in front of you, overly chipper grin plastered on your face.

"Are you alright? You seem anxious." He noted, inching closer to your side, wrapping an arm around you, something that was beginning to feel like instinct at this point.

"I am a little," you admit, smile faltering as you glance up at him. "I want this to go well."

"You don't think they'll believe it?" he asked, tilting his head as he looked down at you.

"Not that," you sighed, perfect posture crumbling against him. "The last time I saw my parents, it didn't go well..."

"I see," he realized, nodding. "I won't push, but if you'd like to talk about it, I'm all ears." he offered, morphing all his extra limbs into ears. "Literally."

You snickered, shining a bright and genuine smile. "Maybe another time,"

"There she is," Shoji teased, ers morphing back into hands and lightly tickling your neck. "Knew I could make you smile. Your real smile is so much prettier than your fake one."

It was moments like these that made you question the reality of your relationship with him. If this all was fake, would he say things like that? Would he say them if they were real? Though the honeyglow in your cheeks and butterflies in your stomach were hard to ignore, his sweetness confused you so much. Before you could bring it up, a chime filled the air as the elevator slowly ascended to a crawl before stopping entirely. Glancing at him for reassurance, you stepped out of the elevator when the doors opened and turned left to make your way to your parent's door.

Standing in front of it, you glanced at him again, this time finding him already staring back. "Well...this is it, I guess?"

"I guess it is," he smiled, bringing up his fist and knocking firmly before stepping back. His warm embrace retracted from you in order to take your hand in his. He thought it'd be a better look for him to be holding your hand when the door opens, rather than having his arm around your shoulder, though he couldn't explain why.

Within moments, the door opened revealing a woman that looked remarkably like you, though a little more than twice your age. Excitedly, the woman threw her arms around your neck, hugging you tightly. "Honey, you're finally home, I've missed you so much!" As the woman's eyes fluttered open again, they landed on Shoji, prompting her to squeal. "Oh, and this must be that Shoji boy you're always telling us about!"

Your cheeks burned at the revelation, but you were too stunned to say anything.

"That would be me, ma'am," Shoji, bowed, offering her his hand as she released you. "And you must be (Y/N)'s older sister,"

The woman shrieked again, giving her hand for him to shake."Oh, stop!" she gushed. "Hun, you didn't tell me he was so charming!"

"Yep," you gulped, nervous about what to say next. "He's my prince charming!" Anything would have been better than that, you cringed. "A-Anyways, Mezo, this is my mother, Mom, this is Mezo Shoji, my boyfriend."

"A pleasure to finally meet you, Shoji, welcome to our humble home!" your mother greeted, bowing her head slightly.

"Please, the pleasure's all mine."

[transform4u]

Transform me from a Southeast Asian Urban Design student/nerd into a typical Dutch Jock. Tired of caring about those folks, might as well join their ranks

You know, manners are everything. This reads less like an ask, and more like a demand. Can't say the powers will take too kindly to that.

You’re hit with a visceral shockwave, a loud snaaaaaapppp that reverberates through your brain like a thunderclap. In the echoing corridors of your mind, memories cascade with a feverish intensity—football games where you were the star, grueling training sessions where you pushed yourself to the limit, and the electrifying thrill of flirting with girls. Each recollection fuels a transformation, muscles bulging and hardening with every echo of a cheering crowd and the thrill of victory.

But amidst the roaring triumph, a sharp, jarring craaaaaaacccck cuts through, like the splintering of a fragile shell. This new sound ushers in a wave of memories that hit harder and heavier. You're suddenly transported back to that fateful game during your sophomore year of college, the sharp pain of your knee snapping, the sensation of your future slipping away. The memory is vivid, almost visceral—the fracture, the tumble into uncertainty. It’s intertwined with another crushing realization: flunking out of college, feeling like you could never quite put two and two together, stumbling through academic challenges that seemed insurmountable.

As the past plays out in your mind, there’s an unsettling slow-motion effect. Your brain feels as though it's dragging through thick fog. Thoughts become clunky and fragmented, with memories replaying the most trivial and embarrassing jokes, their humor flat and forced. You find yourself living in a cramped, crowded apartment in Dallas, Texas—a far cry from the potential you once had.

There’s a growing bitterness in your thoughts, an anger directed at those who seem different or who espouse values that clash with your own. This simmering resentment becomes a part of your identity, mingling with the changes that are happening to your body. The muscles you once proudly built up start to soften and expand, slowly transforming into layers of fat. Your physique, once a symbol of strength, now feels like a burden, a constant reminder of lost opportunities.

Your once-defined arms, capable of throwing a perfect spiral or lifting heavy weights, lose their firmness. They grow flabby and cumbersome, the skin sagging where taut muscle used to be. The biceps that were once admired now bulge inelegantly, their shape obscured by a growing layer of fat. Your chest, once proud and sculpted, expands into a thick, sagging mass that hangs heavily, each breath feeling labored under its weight.

Your waistline follows suit, widening noticeably. Where there were once ridges of abdominal muscles, a soft, unyielding bulge now protrudes, pressing uncomfortably against your waistband. The once-flat stomach now forms a pronounced roll, spilling over your belt and leaving you perpetually uncomfortable in your own clothes.

Now, you see a person whose body is a constant reminder of missed opportunities and a life marred by regret. The formerly muscular physique has become a burden, a physical manifestation of your inner turmoil and bitterness. The muscles that were once your pride are now hidden beneath layers of flesh, a visible sign of how far you’ve fallen from the person you once aspired to be.

You slouch into your routine, drinking cheap beer, scarfing down greasy junk food, and reminiscing about the so-called glory days that seem more distant and unattainable with each passing moment. The weight of your body feels oppressive as you struggle to turn on the TV. The glow of the screen is filled with reruns of shows like Family Guy, their humor dull and repetitive.

A pervasive odor lingers around you, a mix of sweat and neglect, as if you haven’t showered in days. It’s a reminder of how far you’ve fallen from the person you once hoped to be, a stark contrast to the vibrant, ambitious individual you used to be.

"Unf fuckkk…" You let out a groan as you feel your cock stirring beneath the couch cushion, desperately hoping to sink back into some tight young cunt from your glory days. Memories flash through your increasingly mushy brain - lashing a sloppy make-out session in the school hall closet with a bubbly senior named Tiffany. Unbuttoning her skirt with a lustful grin and slipping a hand up to feel those smooth virgin panties.

Suddenly, your newfound self-hatred smashes down like a jackhammer blow. What an idiot you were! Laying claim to her back then and blowing her, sure. But you'll need a lot more than one lame piece of tail. Your fingers reach out of instinct and open the lid of your phone from where it lies scattered around on the coffee table, illuminating a stack of gaudy advertisements - "Get hard! Find hookups near you!", "Gay and In Bisexual Men: Download Now Free!" Shaking your head, you fire up Tinder and begin scrolling with uncharacteristic discretion… Swipe, swipe. Right, right. But no one was going to match with a fat slob like you.

[seapiglet]

hm

I've seen a LOT of shaming going round at the moment, both here and on twitter, of people who are seeking out good omens spoilers, mostly by those who have watched the new episodes in advance. despite what neil and david and michael may have said on the subject, it's rubbing me the wrong way! so I feel the need to make a potentially unpopular post about

✨SPOILERS AND NEURODIVERSITY✨

(and accessibility) 🤚🏼

now I cannot speak for everybody here but as an autistic person with ocd I actually !prefer! being spoiled ahead of time and will frequently read the entire wiki article for a show I'm about to watch (though weirdly CANNOT skip ahead with books?) in order to alleviate anxiety around the unexpected. trust me when I say that knowing what will happen in advance *enhances* the experience for me and I have yet to regret being deliberately spoiled, even when it comes to my absolute favourite things on earth, things I may have been waiting months and months (or in this case years) for. in fact, the longer I've had to wait, the more the feeling of gut-twisting anxiety and uncertainty beds down in my system and makes itself a very unwelcome house guest.

it's all very well insisting that everybody just be patient and ~wait and see~ but for a lot of neurodiverse folks this can be a very unsettling prospect. personally, I don't like surprises! I don't crave the sensation of being shocked by an unforeseen twist! it makes me do a panic! even the thought of it makes me feel deeply uncomfortable.

we're not simply throwing our toys out the pram because we WANT something and we WANT IT NOW (shout out to verruca salt). there is a soothing comfort and stability to predictability that is difficult to explain to somebody who doesn't experience this.

at this point I should mention that OBVIOUSLY not all neurodiverse/autistic/diagnosed-ocd people feel this way but that doesn't negate the fact that a lot of us do and there's not much we can do about it.

I'm aware that everybody's currently moralising about the rightness/wrongness of illicitly distributing and trading nuggets of forbidden information like crack-laced pokemon cards* (surely in this fandom everything should exist in a grey area?) but please don't jump on this as an opportunity to prove who's the most terribly righteous and which of us gets to wear the Super Duper Bestest Fan Neil's Favourite prefect badge for the day. devolving into needless factions and one-upmanship so near to the official airdate does nobody any good.

on another personal note (this is the 👂🏼♿accessibility♿👂🏼bit) I was due to attend one of the screenings and now can't due to the apparent lack of subtitles. pleeeeeaase think of accessibility, amazon. please? some of us have severely messed up ears and/or auditory processing disorders - it's not hurting anybody to have the words up on the screen but it excludes many of us if you don't.

again, if you think it's terrible and wrong to want to be spoiled or to share spoilers you are well within your rights to think that, and of course I encourage anybody who is participating in a bit of blackmarket spoiler dealing to utilise ALL the tags you can think of to keep it secret (keep it safe), or simply leave it to the DMs, but I really don't see the good in shaming others who feel differently.

uhh thank you and good day 🎩

(*hopefully that still scans - my references are as ancient and ephemeral as my knee cartilage)

[haunted-radishes]

Hey, you seem to be a Wen Ning enjoyer, can you tell me what you like best about him? I feel like he has a lot of potential that isn’t really explored enough for him to be a fave so I’d like to hear your POV on him!

Honestly, right from the beginning he has always just made me happy :D

But to delve into it, the first thing that struck me about him was how kind he is. He's a sweet guy! I started with The Untamed, only reading the novel later, so my primary impression of him is the version that sneaks down to the dungeons to take out the evil dog and give Wei Wuxian some medicine, so he's going behind his sect's back to do what's right as soon as he has the opportunity to do so. I love how he's timid and gentle, but has the backbone of steel to risk it all to do the right thing.

But he's also kind of. Odd. Sometimes it ties into his hidden nerves of steel, like when he drugs the entire cohort at Lotus Pier to help Wei Wuxian and co. Like, it was an incredible act, but he just. Fucking. Drugged them. No hesitation. Absolutely wild behavior. Especially in the novel where he had only met Wei Wuxian once before this! I do prefer the drama version where his actions make more sense, but his devotion is at least a little unhinged no matter the version. But also, even besides the obsessive devotion, his energy is just. Endearingly strange and off-putting. Like when he decides that the best way to quietly contact Wei Wuxian is to dangle upside down outside his window. Or feels absolutely no need to make himself less terrifying when he power walks towards the tied-up juniors with a sword.

And then! The unexplored depths and unexamined tragedy! You're left to wonder so much about him! How DOES he feel about the whole fierce corpse thing? About his compromised autonomy? Would he have turned against his sect even if Wei Wuxian hadn't charmed him? Does he regret any of his actions before killing Jin Zixuan? How deep do his grudges run? Is there anyone from the Wen sect outside his established circle of family and cultivators who he misses or secretly mourns? What does he think about the other great sect members, especially the leaders? Plus so many more questions we'll never truly know the answers to, because he tucks his problems away and never speaks of them! The closest glimpse we get of his inner turmoil is his verbal evisceration of Jiang Cheng with the core reveal, and that does show us some interesting things about his character! For the first time, we see him choosing to be as hurtful as possible, showing how much he clearly resents Jiang Cheng, but how much of that is personal dislike, how much is anger on Wei Wuxian's behalf, how much is blame for the deaths of his family, and how much is gall at him benefiting from dear late Wen Qing's genius and service without even knowing it? Also, what is he going to do after canon? What is left for him?

Also he's relatable, lol. That awkward uncertainty he always carries with him is very endearing in an "oh, me too buddy" kind of way. He has so much going on inside his head, but all that comes out is, "oh! Excuse me >.<" People are having massive emotional moments right in front of him, and he's just..... There.

Anyway, Wen Ning! Love that guy! Makes my brain go "brrrr"

[bleedingichorhearts]

𝕳𝖔𝖒𝖊 𝕮𝖆𝖓𝖎𝖉:

𝕬𝖚𝖙𝖍𝖔𝖗: I’m sure he planned it out.

𝕿𝖆𝖌𝖌𝖊𝖉: @kit-williams, @egrets-not-regrets.

𝕬𝖈𝖐𝖓𝖔𝖜𝖑𝖊𝖉𝖌𝖊: Be 𝐑𝐞𝐬𝐩𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐢𝐛𝐥𝐞 for/of yourself. Even it’s just a tiny cut. I also don’t ᴄᴏɴᴅᴏɴᴇ these 𝙰𝚌𝚝𝚒𝚘𝚗𝚜.

TW // Slight SMUT/NSFW? Yandere Themes.

Glittering white stretched across the landscape for miles. The sun casting a warming glow against it as it slowly set across the horizon. Its lasting rays giving warmth to my bundled up body.

Looking down, I watched the snow crunch underneath my boots before continuing on. My breath becoming steady clouds into the settling day while I thought about how long it would take me to get back home.

My estimate would be not for a few hours at least, as I was one to lose track of the time, and wander farther than I should.

Though, It wasn’t unusual for me to venture far out from the property borders of my home. I would always do a “routine check,” but decided that today I was going to push it a little and discover what lies just beyond my usual route, and it proved to be very… peaceful.

The snow was smoothed out perfectly, no slush to be seen from winding roads. The sun was casting its last earthly glow of the day, creating a beautiful ambience of warm and cold colors against the shimmering snow. There even was the smallest of critters running about like the snow fox, hares, and oh! Now even a lynx!

Slowly maneuvering myself down on the ground as not to startle the lynx. I watched as the small feline slowly stalked up to a plump bird on its branch. How its big, fluffy paws didn’t make a sound on top of the surface of the snow. It's praying eyes keeping track of its next dinner, sometimes pausing to make sure the bird didn’t spot them, then the lynx sprang! Catching the bird between its maw. A successful catch for the feline to sedate its stomach until their next hunting session.

Startled by a sudden peculiar sound. The lynx snapped its head up, its ears twitching while looking up at me before running off with its catch.

Confused, I looked back, the hairs on the back of my neck standing up. My eyes scanned the treeline for anything suspicious like a leopard or a mountain lion that could be blending into the environment; stalking me, but I didn’t see anything. No movement.

Slowly getting back up on my feet. I carefully kept my eyes on the treeline with uncertainty. Trying to figure out if I should go investigate it or not. Should I be like a stupid person or a the lucky one in those horror survival movies?

Wiping off some excess snow from my coat. There could honestly be a predator in there trying to lure me into its trap, but what if there was a hurt animal and I just left it to die? To bleed to death? Wasn’t that dishonorable or something? To leave something; someone to bleed to death?

I sighed, another warm cloud passing through my ski mask before I carefully moved toward the tree-line. My mind, telling me just to go back home, and forget about the potentially injured animal. It was long gone by now. No use in saving it, but I pushed through the unforgiving thoughts. Every sense, and nerve ready to spring out of there at the slightest movement.

Going forth, I nearly tripped over something in the snow. Noticing how this thing barely moved when I did. My foot buzzing at the unexpected impact. Looking back, I followed the rather big object I have tripped over up to an even bigger object, posted on a trunk of a tree. It looked like it was shaped like a very big human was just resting here, underneath a blanket of snow. Unless this was a very oddly shaped tree? Bush even?

Stepping a little closer. I brought my hand up to wipe off some of the snow off the object. Feeling how smooth it was under my gloves rather than a rough texture of a tree or some prickly bush. Wiping off some more. My heart jumped in my chest when I noticed it was armor, and not some weird tree or bush. This was Astartes armor.

Quickly wiping off more layers of the snow off the armor. The armor color was like a light blue-ish gray with a wolf-like insignia on its pauldrons meaning I just have found a suit of a Space Wolf, but why was it all the way out here in the middle of nowhere? Wouldn’t their brethren take it? Was there even an Astartes inside of the suit?

That was something I really didn’t want to check, but what if his warband didn’t know that he was missing? What if they have been looking for them? I didn’t want to leave his warband hanging, if he had one.

Slowly sliding my hand onto the sides of the helmet. I stood there tense for a moment. Calculating my options, wondering if this was a really good idea or not. What if he was simply sleeping? It really wouldn’t be out of the books for a Space wolf to do so.

Inhaling, I held my breath and quickly took the helmet off. Fully expecting to have a skeleton in the armor or decaying body jumping out, right at my face, but there wasn’t.

Instead, there was a living, breathing Astartes inside that looked to be an older one than the young ones I've seen around. He had this long platinum blonde hair tied back into a man bun to keep his helmet from catching on it, and had the same color of platinum blond for his classic full beard that fit absolutely perfectly on his masculine face.

Damn, the people weren’t lying when they said they looked like Vikings, and very handsome too.

My breath caught double time in my throat as the Astartes' eyes flew open while I took a step back in surprise. His icy blue eyes staring down at my smaller form despite him being sat on the ground. He still towered by another head or two.

His mouth slowly opened to show his absolute canines that looked like they could shred through flesh. His pink tongue swiping across them before he shot forward.

I didn’t have enough time to even attempt a run away. His teeth piercing through my clothing with ease, aiming for my shoulder while my body landed backward onto the snow, little shimmers of snow flying up. A silent scream leaving my mouth. Shocked of how quickly this Astartes came forward.

Was I going to die by this Astartes ripping out my throat? Was I his next feast? Was he going to leave me to bleed? Why the hell was I dumb enough to check out a damn noise?!

It wasn’t until I felt the pain of him completely latched on my shoulder. His teeth piercing through my skin, did I get out of my shock. My hand desperately pawing at the Astartes armor above me to let me go. A whine leaving my throat as everything became dizzy; foggy.

Lycus didn’t let go until she went limp underneath him. His tongue shooting out between his teeth to lap at the bloodied mark he left on her between her clothing while purring. He didn’t think he would find his bonded right in front of him. Her sweet scent waking him from his slumber, but then again. He has found her before, wandering her set perimeters around her nest.

He rumbled, savoring how her blood tasted on his tongue while he lifted his bonded from the ground, picking up his helmet while he was at it, and carrying her back to her nest. Wondering why she was so far from it. Not that he's complaining much. He got a good opportunity out of it. One that neither of them can let go.

He was waiting for the day he could just snag her, and she made the perfect moment to do so. To sink his teeth right into her skin and claim her.

He knows that he should’ve done it properly. Sniff around for her soft spot. Pamper her before doing so, but he’s seen the eyes the other pups that looked at her with. He felt the need to do it quickly before any one of them even had the idea to advance before him.

His head came down to nuzzle the top of her head. His tongue running over his teeth to resist bitting her again while making sure that his mark took effect, and if it didn’t?

He wouldn’t mind nibbling a little bit more into her soft flesh. Marking her up all over the place to ensure it. Preferably with her crying out beneath him, but he can go both ways. It’s not like he was going to leave her side now.

She was his as he was hers, and that’s not something he’s willing to let go.