#will there ever be happiness for me anymore..

[jaylaxies]

CALL ME WHEN YOU HATE ME LESS

PAIRING: lee jeno x fem!reader (ft. jaehyun and jaemin)

GENRE/CW: smut, angst, eventual fluff, porn with plot, unprotected sex, cunnilingus, fingering, choking, blowjob, using panties as a gag, spitting, edging, squirting, mentions of fighting, blood, usage of nicknames, slowburn if you squint, emotional trauma, lmk if i missed anything!

WORD COUNT: 18,321 words. (18.3k)

PLAYLIST: here.

SYNOPSIS: Jeno Lee was a walking academic hazard—hot, broody, and failing just about everything that wasn’t football. Enter you, his new tutor: organized, overachieving, and absolutely not here for his attitude or his annoyingly perfect jawline. But between late-night study sessions, petty insults, and one very inconvenient almost-kiss, things start spiraling—fast. He’s supposed to be you project. You are supposed to hate him. Instead, you both are one sarcastic comment away from either a breakdown or a makeout—and honestly, it could go either way.

WARNING: 18+ content, minors dni (the full fic will include smut).

A/N: hihi, angels! i'm finally back with a jeno fic aaa thank you my girls @jaeminvore @hoondrop @gojosmojodojo for giving me ideas and listening to me losing my shit over this fic <333 i hope y’all enjoy reading it <33 all likes, comments, reblogs are highly appreciated! it keeps me motivated! iloveyou all and happy reading <33

Chapter 1: Raised in Shadows, Told to Shine. 

Comparison. 

The core of all insecurities. The onset of overthinking. The path to self loathing. 

That’s what comparison does to a person—drive them to the edge of insanity in hopes of turning into something; into someone the others will look up to, compare themselves to. 

It was a bad thing per se, but it was motivation enough for Jeno to work harder in order to leave the country, to get away from his family. 

The reason? His mother ever so conveniently happened to have fallen in love with a rich guy, someone who never knew what struggle meant, and Jeno was just four back then. It didn’t take much time for him to settle into the lifestyle, however, no matter how much he could have prepared to face his step-brother, he simply couldn’t bother looking him in the eye. 

Why? Because he was known to be the epitome of perfection. Jung Jaehyun was the son every parent wanted, the student every teacher was fond of, the doctor every nurse wanted to work with. 

The sweet dimple on his cheek was a great asset in melting the hearts of everyone in his proximity or afar. 

Jeno on the other hand, wasn’t quite sure why he wasn’t considered to be enough, especially when he got decent grades throughout his school life, he wasn’t a bother, kind to those who were around them, but it changed. 

It changed when he got daily reminders of how he wasn’t even close to how amazing and successful his step brother was. 

That’s when things started looking down for Jeno. He stopped caring about the grades, he wasn’t sure why he was supposed to put up a I’m so good, so smart act in front of others when there was no reason for him to do that. 

Others didn’t bother doing the same for him. 

Rather, he tried to work upon the only thing he was passionate about, the only thing that mattered to him—football. 

Despite winning several trophies for playing the sport, his parents labelled it to be useless, which broke the last fragment of his heart, shattering it to the point of no return. 

Which would explain his current demeanor—moody, permanent scowl on his perfectly sculpted face and no care for the others around him. His sole focus being football, which is also the reason behind his current dilemma. 

“Being an excellent player in the sports team does not guarantee you your scholarship, Mr. Lee,” Jeno’s teacher incharge spoke up, taking off her specs right after reviewing his annual grade report, “you’re failing three out of five modules, and if you don’t start getting back on track soon, then I’m afraid you won’t be able to play in the team anymore.” 

Fuck. 

Jeno had been neglecting his studies, he admits, yet he never thought that he’d reach this point. It’s not that he wasn’t smart, he simply had no motivation to go on with his studies. His parents could easily pay the university to keep him around, however, he wanted nothing from them, which also explains why he got himself a scholarship in the first place. 

“I’m sorry if I’m late.” Jeno’s eyes snapped wide open, turning back to see his step brother entering the teacher’s cabin. 

“Why are you here?” Jeno asked, a muscle in his jaw twitching but Jaehyun only smiled. 

Jeno’s professor was equally stunned, probably even more with her jaw wide open at the appearance of such a handsome young man. 

“I called him in since your parents were busy,” his professor said, handling Jeno a letter, “go and find your tutor in the council room, she’ll be helping you with the upliftment of your grades, Mr. Lee, and now if you’ll excuse us, I’ve got to fill in your brother with your current situation,” she said the last part awfully sweetly as Jaehyun sat down in one of the vacant chairs, smiling at her kind tone. 

Jeno scoffed, the demeanor change around Jaehyun went crazy and he wasn’t a fan of it, especially when he was called in to complain about his mistakes. 

He simply wanted to leave the university and never come back. 

He waited, taking deep breaths before punching the wall, not being able to contain his anger. The impact did hurt, yet he paid no heed to it, the blood dripping as he walked towards the council room to get over with the day. 

The name written on the sheet wasn’t unfamiliar to him, rather it only wearied the already infuriated boy as he knocked on the door of the student council room, which was empty except for you sitting there, working on a few papers which appeared to be the newsletter for the month. 

“Come in,” you allowed, not looking up as Jeno made his way inside the room, observing the surroundings where he’s never been before. 

Then he looked your way, taking in your appearance. You looked cozy in your university varsity jacket, your specs sitting on your nose as you buried yourself in reading whatever it was that you were reading. He couldn’t deny you looked pretty in a way that’s comforting to eyes. 

With no words exchanged, he pushed the letter towards you, which finally made you look up at the source of disturbance, your eyebrows raising slightly as you most certainly did not expect the star football player to visit you in the council room, which he’s never been to before. 

He simply stood there, hands shoved into his pockets while still looking around, and you took a second to grab the letter, skimming over to read and understand that the letter was given by Mrs. Kim, the teacher in charge of your department, requesting you to take up the few teaching sessions you had applied for, Jeno being the student you’ll have to teach for the same. 

You clicked your tongue, folding the letter exactly as it was before pushing it his way, your arms folding across your chest as you finally spoke up, “I reject. I don’t wish to teach you.”

His eyes were quick to snap towards you, finally staring right into your own eyes, irritation clear as he pushed his tongue on his inner cheek, eyebrow raised. 

“Aren’t you supposed to kiss your professor’s feet, given that you’re in student council? And here I thought you’d be a good girl.” Jeno rasped, resting his arms on your table, leaning down to your level. 

You chuckled, expecting the exact response from him, “this is exactly why I don’t want to waste my time on you—you athletes don’t wish to study, you just require a passing grade, for which I don’t have time to spare.” 

“What the fuck do you mean waste your time?” 

“Lee Jeno, you’ve got more money with you than your bank account can handle, so I’m sure losing your scholarship won’t do you much harm,” you said with a sickening smile, “you’ve got no interest in studying, your attendance record states that oh so proudly.” 

“You don’t know shit about me,” Jeno seethed out, messy hair strands falling over his eyes. 

“I know everything I need to know about you. Now excuse me, unlike you, I actually have work to do,” you said, passing him a tight lipped smile, not letting the proximity faze you. 

“You—” 

Jeno’s sentence was cut short with two sharp knocks on the slightly ajar door, a head peeking in, successfully garnering your attention. You could feel your mood doing one eighty with the sudden intrusion of this stranger—whom you didn’t wish to be a stranger around anymore, your eyes softening, lips parting as you stared at him in awe. 

Meanwhile, if Jeno thought that the day was done being a bitch to him, then he was wrong because the level of irritation that bubbled up in him the moment he saw the change in your expressions. 

“Sorry to interrupt, may I get in?” Jaehyun asked, smiling his usual dimpled smile, which had you swooning in record time. 

You could practically see veins of frustration popping out on Jeno’s neck, “no. Your work is done, you should head back home,” he groaned, but Jaehyun only looked you way, continuing to get in, looking your way. 

“I’m Jaehyun, Jeno’s elder brother. I can’t thank you enough for agreeing on giving him tutoring lessons, especially with how busy you must be with council duties,” he spoke up, shaking your hand, which was smaller in his warm, big hands. 

Jeno scoffed, “she’s not—”

“Of course, Jaehyun! It’s my pleasure to help him out, and it’ll only help me better with my extracurricular credits! It’s no problem,” you nodded, a gentle smile on your face as your eyes practically twinkled with excitement, taking in the beauty that Jaehyun beheld. 

It was ridiculous. 

It was absurd how just two sentences; paired with a sweet smile from his brother, were enough for you to change your decision, in the span of two seconds at that. 

He tightened the hold he had on the strap of his black bag, “no fucking need. I’ll find another tutor,” Jeno deadpanned, walking out of the room, not paying attention to Jaehyun who called out his name in the background. 

He wouldn’t let you use him to get to his brother. 

With that thought, he decided to detour and make his way to the gym, trying to blow off steam by practicing punching, each one getting progressively stronger as his mind replayed the difference in your behaviour when it came to him and his brother. 

It didn’t bother him that his knuckles were bruising, he knew he needed this extrinsic pain to get rid of the obvious hurt he felt each day. 

And he couldn’t understand why he felt so affected by your actions, especially when it was the first time you had met. 

Jealousy was indeed a bitch. 

Chapter 2: Surrendered to the skirt. 

Two days passed by and Jeno’s mood showed no progress in terms of improving, rather, he felt worse each time the memory invaded his brain. He tried his best to sit down and open the first module of the unit he had to study. 

It’s not like he was bad at studying, he was just a bit out of practice, and well, his mental health wasn’t doing much to help him get any better. 

Just when he was about to actually get a hang of getting into the topic, the doorbell rang. His parents were out for business, as usual, and his step brother was busy doing morning shifts, which meant that he was alone at the mansion, minus the myriad of worker staff they had to take care of the place. 

Essentially, he had to get down to see who it was at the door, only to spot you leaning against the doorframe as one of the attendants had asked you to wait. He stopped, observing you from the staircase as you typed something on your phone. 

Why were you here after clearly rejecting him? Why were you here when he’s clearly told you he doesn’t want you to be his tutor?

Scoffing, he walked down the stairs and towards you, standing right in front of you, clearly invading your personal space as he decided to lean against the same side of the thick door frame with his brows raised.

You took a second to take in his appearance as he was clad in casual gray sweatpants with a black tank, which honestly did nothing to hide his muscles. 

“Why are you here?” Jeno asked with a bored tone. 

“I’m here to teach you, remember?” You gave him a pointed look. 

“And I clearly told you I don’t wish to study from you, it’s better if you leave now. I’ll just tell Mrs. Kim that you taught me,” he said, almost turning back to go inside. 

“And have them wondering how you failed even after getting tutored by me? Yeah, I don’t think so,” you shook your head, inviting yourself in without second thoughts. 

“Y/n, I’m not fucking kidding, you should leave. Besides, the one you came for isn’t at home at the moment,” he muttered bitterly. 

That caught your attention, “oh? Busy with a job then?” You asked, looking around the exquisite paintings hung at the entrance of his place. 

“Are you gonna leave or do I have to call the guards to escort you out?”

You chuckled, “you really don’t want the previous year questions I have? The council students get them each year you see, they’re bound to guarantee you good marks,” you explained with a smirk. 

Jeno groaned, his lip bitten as he tried to think if tolerating you would be worth the questions, but his football career was at stake and there was no better option but to accept it. 

“What’s the catch?” Jeno asked after a few seconds, sighing with defeat. 

“Nothing at all. We both know that you need these papers to get the grade that you wanna achieve and I’ll get my extra credits,” you reason. 

“You just wanna meet my brother,” he said dryly, “either way, you won’t get to see a lot of him, he’s always at the hospital, working and being the perfect son he is. Plus, he’s definitely not into uni students,” he looked you up and down, soon gulping and looking elsewhere. 

You were clad in a pretty skirt which showed off your legs—which you did wear in hopes of crossing paths with Jaehyun, but you completely missed how Jeno was staring at your body. 

He wasn’t sure if it was out of hatred that he stared at you, or it was admiration because you were one of those people he despised—overachievers.  

You were in the student council, got good grades and professors favoured you, it wouldn’t be a surprise if your parents loved you for being the ideal daughter. It most certainly didn’t help that your appearance seemed as if you were the sweetest, kindest angel on earth, which wasn’t the case when you were around Jeno though. 

“I’ll manage,” you shrugged, “so, I need your final word, Mr. Lee.”

“I am sure I can find better tutors than you,” he raised his brows, challenging you and you didn’t look fazed at all. 

“I am quite literally the best, professor Kim asked me to tutor you for a reason, besides, no one’s gonna agree to help you out with exams being only one month away,” you made your point, extending your hand for him to finalize his decision. 

Overconfidence. He sighed. 

Jeno stared at your extended hand, thinking of the bigger picture here. He’d get tutoring and would be able to score decent grades if he gets back to his usual routine of studying. 

Downside? He’d have to face you each day. 

Sighing and keeping his feelings in check, he simply nodded, taking your smaller hand into his as he accepted the offer, suddenly aware of the warmth of your palm and how it leaves a tingling feeling behind as you shake his hand firmly with a smirk. 

“So, where are we gonna study?” 

Chapter 3: Silent room, a loud mind. 

Turns out, it’s not that easy to sit down and just teach Jeno. 

Given the amount of classes he had missed, or rather, the amount of classes he had managed to attend, it was clear that he didn’t even have the basic idea of the syllabus for the semester modules. 

Moreover, you had already pissed him off by mentioning how you didn’t expect him to have such a clean and organized room, as if you had already decided that he was going to be a messy human. 

Moving forward, you both sat down next to each other with your laptop open in front of you as you made him write down all the topics he needed to cover for the next month, forming a sort of timetable of a kind. 

It was surprisingly peaceful between you two, as if you both wished to get over with it as soon as possible, behaving as civilly as you could but there was this one thing that Jeno couldn’t stop doing. 

Overthinking. 

It’s the way you looked his way with disappointed and concerned filled eyes whenever he messed up, the way his jaw clenched when you told him to do better, the way he couldn’t help but stare at your glossed up lips as you looked around his room, eyes settling on his childhood pictures which were framed. 

It was also new to him to actually interact with people outside of his football team, especially girls. He couldn’t remember the last time he had talked to one. He wondered what was going on in your mind, he wondered if you were silently judging him through it all.

That’s all what people in his life did anyway. 

“You were cute as a kid, what happened to you now?” You joked, chuckling as you looked his way, only to find his mouth slightly agape.

He hadn’t expected you to say that, and he certainly didn’t want to retort back with something that would ruin his mood, “I grew up to be hot is what happened to me,” he replied smoothly. 

“Oh, so you do know how to joke around,” you raised your brows in surprise. It was indeed the image he had formed over the years. The image of him being nothing more than a rude jock who wouldn’t even reply to someone nicely. 

Now that you were actually interacting with him, you were going to find out how many of the rumors were true about him. 

He only leaned closer at your statement, you could see his muscles flexing as he rested one arm on the table in front of you both, “it’s not a joke, love. I am hot.”

You scoffed at the term of endearment, suddenly aware of his scent now that he was so close to you, “and egoistic too,” you helpfully added. 

“Rightfully so.”

Your childish argument was interrupted that very second as the door to Jeno’s room swung open, revealing the exact man you came to see. 

Jaehyun was smiling, dressed in black slacks and a button up shirt as he welcomed you here, and you were quick to notice Jeno’s mood turning fowl that very second. 

“Thank you so much for coming here, Y/n. Let me send a few snacks and drinks for you both while you study,” he smiled, and you rushed up to stand, not even bothering about the pen that fell down as you did so. 

“Jaehyun,” you walked up to him, much to Jeno’s dismay, “oh, you don’t have to do anything,” you smiled sweetly, and he only shook his head softly, grabbing your arm. 

“Don’t worry about it, just sit and relax, okay?” He squeezed your arm, going downstairs and you sighed with a smile. Even his scent was perfect to you. 

“You done daydreaming?” Jeno asked, deadpanning once his brother had left. 

“You done solving the question?” You retorted. 

He sighed, as if his energy was drained already, “yeah, just check and get this over with,” he said, handing you the binder and looking elsewhere. 

It was probably the first time you actually paid attention to his dejected tone, as if he didn’t have the energy to fight back, and you obviously didn’t wish to irk him more, especially when he looked so frustrated right now. Thankfully, a lot of his answers were indeed correct, which was another surprise to you. 

He was smart, he just simply didn’t wish to study. 

“Something wrong?” He asked, cocking his brow and you blinked, “you’re actually not as dumb as you portray yourself to be,” you mumbled, checking everything thoroughly. 

It should’ve been insulting to Jeno per se, but even the slightest amount of approval was a big thing for him, causing the corner of his lips to curl up. He felt insane, the amount of emotions he felt in a single day was perhaps the reason for the same, courtesy of you. 

He was glad Jaehyun didn’t enter the room again, sending in a servant staff to give you the snacks instead, which maintained the peace throughout the session. 

You couldn’t help but notice how well he concentrated once there was silence in the room, your eyes focused on his hand gripping the pen, making it seem more veiny than it already was. 

Also, you didn’t miss the hint of a smile ghosting his face when you told him he did a good job right before leaving, which made you think of a few things, one being— 

He looked beautiful with a smile. 

Chapter 4: You can’t read my mind, so read my lips. 

As much as Jeno loved the comfort of his room, he really wanted to avoid you bumping into Jaehyun again.

Even the thought of your interactions, your fake sweet smiles, made him wanna punch the wall. Jaehyun really had it easy and Jeno never understood why, it was no joke that Jeno was decent looking as well, talented in his own way, and a kind hearted person who just happened to have a protective wall around him so as to not get hurt any further. 

Which is why you had been tutoring him in the library from the past ten sessions, his own personal request to avoid having privacy with you. 

Heck, even Jeno didn’t know it was his own mind trying to protect him, which is why he couldn’t let anyone in, anyone.  

Which made this situation far from ideal as he had you pressed against the library wall, no distance between you both as you closed your eyes in pure distress. 

“What the actual fuck is he doing here?” Your question was directed more to yourself, which confused Jeno further.

He poked his tongue into his cheek, annoyance creeping through, “what the fuck is going on?” He asked. 

“Shhh, not so loud,” you pressed your palm against his mouth, “just hide me.”

He rolled his eyes, grabbing your wrist effortlessly, pinning it above your head, “you don’t tell me what to do, yeah?” He mumbled, flustering you under his gaze before your eyes travelled back to where you were looking initially. 

He sighed in annoyance, looking back at the direction of your supposed fear. 

Na Jaemin. Another of Jeno’s football teammates. 

“Why are you hiding from Jaemin,” he asked, brow raised as he leaned into you. 

“Ugh,” you groaned, “he’s my ex, he shouldn’t even be in the library, he’s never here!” You were stressed and Jeno smirked devilishly. 

“Fucking hell, you’re the girl he keeps on stalking and crying about?” He chuckled, “let me call him,” he turned away for a second. 

You used your free hand to grab his nape, “don’t fucking move,” you mumbled. 

Perhaps you were too harsh with the grabbing, also not calculating the proximity enough, because Jeno’s nose was brushing against yours, lips close to the point of touching, and a low groan escaping his lips as your name rolls out his tongue in the most angry grunt ever, “what the actual fuck are you doing?” 

“J—just let him leave,” you mumbled, gulping and closing your eyes, his mint breath fanning your face as heat crept up your neck, up till your ears. 

“What will I get out of it,” he asked, his free hand resting on your waist now, “why should I help you?”

“I’m literally helping you study, Jeno,” you seethed out.

“Look at me when I’m talking to you,” he groaned, making you open your eyes, staring into his deep ones now, suddenly feeling small under his gaze, and well, his body. 

“What?” you asked, looking away to check if Jaemin had left, pushing Jeno away the second you confirmed it. 

Jeno, however, wasn’t having any of it. 

With a scoff and the shake of his head, he grabbed your wrist again, twisting it behind your back, not putting too much pressure so it just hurt but still made it clear how he would not let you go so easily, “you can’t run from me.”

“Let go, I fucking swear—” you let out, squirming around and pushing him, he didn’t budge at all sadly. 

“You do realize I’m a lot stronger than you, right?” He chuckled. 

“Fuck—what do you want me to do?” You rolled your eyes, jaw clenching as you looked at him. 

Before he could answer, your eyes widened in fear yet again as you yanked his arm so forcefully, he had no chance to balance himself, a yelp leaving his mouth as you ran and he was following right after you. 

Jaemin was back and you could just not deal with his ass anymore, hence the overwhelming response. Fight or flight? Flight for sure. Dragging Jeno into it might be a stretch but hey, whatever helped you run away from the gremlin, right? 

“Y/N,” Jeno hissed yet again, once you stopped by your seat, gathering both yours and his belongings scattered across the table from when you were studying a few minutes back, before getting up to find a book, before seeing Jaemin roaming around the halls of the library. 

It was quite amusing to Jeno if he was being honest, a mix of feelings as you grabbed his wrist effortlessly yet again, your eyes set on the exit door leading to the parking lot where Jeno’s Ferrari Purosangue stood proudly. 

“Get in!” You screamed even though you were far from the threat (read: Jaemin) now. 

“That’s my car in case you forgot—”

“Now.” 

“So fucking annoying—” He grumbled, with a small smile playing on his lips. 

You looked so bothered as if you were chased by Ghostface and not Jaemin, even though you probably wouldn’t run away from the prior. It was comical regardless, the long breath you exhaled once you were comfortable on his premium quality car seat, head leaned back fully. 

You opened your eyes after a few seconds only to find Jeno’s eyes on you, face curved into an amused look. You stared at one another for a second, two seconds, three seconds—and he burst out laughing. 

It was probably the first time you saw him laugh like that—so freely, without any care in this world. It was loud but breathless, making his eyes crinkle with small crescents forming, his perfectly aligned pearly teeth showing as he went on, laughing at your disheveled state and crazy response to everything that happened the past twenty minutes. 

You were calm and composed for the most part, it was rare for you to look this frustrated over anything, which came as a surprise to Jeno, the whole situation seemingly pure comedy to him. 

You observed him so carefully, your own lips twitching into a smile and before you knew it, you were laughing alongside him so normally as if two friends were laughing over a joke. 

A weird sort of warmth spread over your body, it made no sense honestly, you were pinned to the wall just a few minutes back and Jeno looked as if he’d burst into flames with his anger, and now he’s laughing at your disheveled, non-composed state. 

Once Jeno caught you staring back at him with glittering eyes, and a little smile, he froze. It was easy for him to come back to his senses (read: put his walls back up) which only made your smile drop too. It was awkward, both of you looking elsewhere while clearing your throats, definitely not something you expected. 

“Uh—sorry about that, yeah,” you mumbled, playing with the loose threat of your sweater sleeve. 

“Yeah, no problem,” he retorted, turning the car engine on to start driving. 

Why was it awkward? Because you laughed together like two absolutely normal individuals? Because you had Jeno pinning you to the wall to avoid your ex? 

Or because you almost kissed. Almost. 

 The ride back to your apartment was silent, no songs playing in the car, just the small buzz of engine, and the nail tapping on the screen of your phone—to avoid any kind of conversation happening, also clearly missing out on how Jeno glanced at you every few seconds, the speed of his thoughts running faster than his own car. 

“I’ll—see you tomorrow then?” Your voice cracked as you said so, wincing slightly at your own tone. 

Jeno was about to chuckle again, yet he covered it with a low cough as he mumbled a yes, as you opened the door once he stopped in front of your apartment. 

That’s it, you were leaving, and his eyes didn’t leave you till you disappeared into the apartment. 

He gripped the steering wheel tighter, groaning as he banged his head into it, a low horn sound only frustrating him further. It was hard for him to drive after, the scene of you being so vulnerable yet glaring at him like a scared little vixen trying to look brave, replayed in his mind. 

No, he couldn’t drive, couldn’t focus on the road anymore, stopping the car at a random parking lot of a fast food chain, grabbing his phone to pull up Instagram, specifically Jaemin’s account. 

He didn’t have to scroll much to find the picture he was looking for—his teammate, Jaemin, standing right next to you with his arm resting on your waist. Jeno didn’t know why that picture left a bitter taste in his mouth all of a sudden, knowing well how badly Jaemin fucked up when he cheated on you. 

And now the asshole is running after you again. 

You didn’t deserve that, you deserve someone better—someone perfect like you. 

He went back, not having it in him to look at the picture again, instead, going to your account now. It looked professional, all your posts being highly calculative to make your feed look pleasing. Your highlights, however, had this one particular picture—a picture of you smiling without a care in the world, so raw, so genuine, so beautiful. 

Beautiful. 

Jeno thought you looked beautiful, and it made him angry. 

He was angry—because deep down, he desired to be the reason for your smile. 

Chapter 5: Pretty in pink, but my head’s in the dark. 

Jeno made you smile. 

You did know that laugh was contagious, however, you didn’t think you’d actually give in to Jeno’s sweet chuckles. 

Sleep didn’t come to you easy when the constant reminder of the study session poked the back of your mind, not to mention what happened in the library earlier, where you and Jeno almost kissed—

No. 

You shook your head. Such niche experiences never falter you, so why was this such a big deal? 

Another groan left your mouth, but alas, your body was relaxed enough to sleep so you woke up energetic the next day. It felt oddly friendly when you saw Jeno at the University, and he threw a two finger salute your way, you waved back before going your way. 

“You’re zoned out, again.” Karina, one of your classmates, pointed out and you sighed as she rambled about how you needed to let some guy in, quite literally, to blow off some steam, which you clearly weren’t doing, hence the stuck up energy. 

Being descriptive about it didn’t help either—yet another reminder of how Jeno’s body was pressed against yours this hour, yesterday. 

Heat crept up your neck, urging you to pack up and leave the room. It was hot, stuffy almost for you to do anything, which is why you found yourself studying at the empty seat of the University park. 

You had to face him again, of course, there was no escape to that, and as if the universe was testing you, the time passed by way too quickly for your liking and soon, you found yourself standing in front of the main door of Jeno’s place. 

Before you could even ring the bell, the door opened to a huffing Jeno, almost as if he ran downstairs, but how did he know—

“Hey,” he whispered, looking around. 

He didn’t wait for your reply, simply grabbing your wrist and dragging you inside, your skin burning at the unexpected touch, but you didn’t shake him off of you, only asking in a low tone, “what are you doing?” 

“Shh,” Jeno mumbled, as though he was trying to avoid someone, or rather, trying to hide you from someone. His efforts were futile, however, once he heard that stern voice of his mother booming through the walls of his mansion. 

Now you get why Jeno was in a hurry, the look on her face had a chill going down your spine. 

You felt Jeno stiffen alongside you, his hold on your wrist now tighter, uncontrollably so. 

“You must be the new tutor for Jeno,” she said, scrutinizing every bit of your existence, Jeno’s jaw clenched at her unwavering gaze. 

“Yes ma’am, It’s a pleasure meeting you,” you tried to say, only for her to cut you off. 

“Trust me, darling. There must be no pleasure in helping Jeno, but I do hope he learns a thing or two from you—you look like a smart young lady, hopefully, a positive influence on him.” 

You looked at her with your mouth open slightly, not believing the sight in front of you. No mother should look down on their children like that, ever. 

“Mrs. Jung, I hope we’re talking about the same Jeno because he is amazing at studies, he grasps concepts faster than I do, and then I believe I’m the one who’s learning from him right now!” You smiled, full of enthusiasm, feeling Jeno’s hand dropping down from your wrist. 

“In fact, I’ve never seen anyone play football so perfectly while also being so brilliantly academically smart, I firmly believe his grades will shock you this time. Now, if you’ll excuse us, it’s time for our tutoring session.”

You passed her a small smile, the shock clear on her face, before grabbing Jeno’s hand and taking him along with you—to his room. You didn’t look back, simply closing the door as you breathed out with a pissed expression. 

Jeno’s heart was beating fast, he wasn’t sure if he had words to speak at this moment, so staring at you was all he could do. 

You spoke for him. 

You defended him. 

No one’s ever done that, no one cared enough to understand, moreover, it didn’t help how you looked angrier than him at the situation. 

“W—Why?” Jeno couldn’t keep his voice in check, “you didn’t have to—say all that.”

That’s when you turned around, facing him. All your anger disappeared once you focused on his face, so vulnerable, so confused, so desperate to know your answer. 

“Jeno,” the gentleness in your voice only made him gulp and look down at the floor, “I hope you don’t believe a word she says, because that’s not true,” you spoke, inching closer. 

You were not one who was good at making people feel better, Jeno of all people at that, however, this gave you an insight of why Jeno is the way he is—closed off, hence the lack of words from your side, but you knew you had to say it. 

That’s the thing, we judge people too quickly, you always had snarky remarks for him, not knowing how deep they cut him. He looked shaken right now, traumatized, especially because you experienced a part of his life which he never wanted to share with anybody. 

“Jeno, you’re doing so well, you know that right?” You whispered, as genuine as possible, your fingers grabbing his own, which made him look up at you finally. 

He was shaken, not from his mother’s words—he was used to them—but from yours. 

“No one’s ever said that,” he spoke so silently, you almost missed it. You held his hand tight—being almost angrier than him while answering his mom back—he isn’t sure if he’ll ever be over that. 

Jeno didn’t realize his eyes were glistening. 

“What?” You breathed out. 

He gulped yet again, jaw clenched now as he struggled to get his words out, the floor being the most interesting thing to him, “defended me. No one’s done that.”

“I—is that why you hate Jaehyun? Because people only see him?” You asked, wincing at the question when you saw him stiffen again, a sharp pang in your chest once he brushed your hand off of his. 

“Don’t. Don’t fucking go there.”

“I didn’t mean—” 

“Oh I fucking know what you mean. Everyone sees him fuck—you see him, because he’s perfect, right? That’s what he is, perfect,” he seethed out, “you don’t know what it’s like—to live in someone’s shadow,” there was a flash of pain in his eyes. 

You stayed mum, letting him speak. 

“Every place, every room, every fucking person just sees him,” he muttered, “I need to better, but it’s never enough, because he already did it—Jaehyun did it better. You look at him the same way as others do, and me? The afterthought—the failure.”

Your heart broke a little, guilt settling in because unknowingly, you fueled the same anger and trauma for him. 

“Jeno,” you mumbled, “you’re not a failure.”

“You don’t know me.”

“I’m starting to,” you spoke, and he looked up, “and thank god you’re not Jaehyun,” you chuckled, fingers ghosting near his jaw, your touch featherlight, making him suck in a deep breath. 

“Why?” He asked, voice barely above a whisper, eyes hopeful, which scared him. 

“Because you’re real, you don’t fake your emotions. You don’t smile at somebody who you don’t care about, you get angry, messy, you let yourself be shown how you are,” you lip twitched slightly as you said so, your own heartbeat rose at the sentences you so easily uttered, “that’s what makes you a human, Jeno, a human who’s trying his best, which is what matters.”

He blinked. 

He wanted to speak, but he couldn’t, simply leaning into your touch with his eyes closed. 

“You’re you, the stupid jock who’s not scared of anything, yeah?” You tried to make him smile, which helped as you saw his lips curving up. 

Midway through your sentences, you genuinely questioned yourself about why you even like Jaehyun, it was honestly just your mind playing games with you. 

“You scare me,” he muttered. 

“Why?”

“Because you say things so convincingly, it makes me wanna believe you.”

“Then why don’t you?”

“Just—don’t say it when you don’t mean it.”

“I do,” you said in a breath, his eyes on yours now, more intense than ever, “I mean every word.”

He stared a little longer, staring at you unamused as if you’d laugh in his face right this second. You didn’t. 

“You’re serious,” he said, voice hoarse. 

You nodded softly. 

Jeno took a single step forward, the air around you so tight, it felt like a rubber band stretched to its max, on the verge of snapping back. 

You inhaled sharply once Jeno’s cold hand brushed the hair on your shoulder, grazing against your bare skin, moving up your nape. 

“Do you have any idea what you just said to me?” He murmured, eyes locked on yours, turning you around easily to pin you against the wall—something he liked to do, apparently. 

“Tell me,” you mumbled. 

If someone told you two days back that you’d be in Jeno’s room, calming him down before getting into a compromising position with him, you would have laughed in their faces. It was reality for you now, something that made you feel so unconventionally flustered. 

The way he brushed his thumb along your jaw, slow and deliberate, made you shiver, “you’re making me forget that i’m supposed to hate this—feeling anything.” 

You were hanging on the last bit of your sanity, drowning in Jeno’s scent, his nose brushing against your cheek, hand gripping your waist, heat radiating off of your body. 

“Jeno—”

“Say it again,” he whispered. 

“Say what?” You breathed. 

“That you’re glad I’m not him.”

You chuckled under his hold, your voice still shaking, “I’m so glad—so fucking glad you’re not him.” 

His breath sounded like a curse, lips hovering a breath above yours, you could feel his hesitation against your skin. He wasn’t sure if he had the right to touch someone as perfect as you, yet you didn’t stop him, the space in between you was so tight, it might as well elicit electricity. 

You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t blink, only leaning into his touch, resting your hand over the top of his on your jaw. The touch was faint, yet you could feel it everywhere. 

You held your breath as he leaned in—

Knock. 

Jeno swore under his breath as you flinched, it physically hurt him to step back. 

“Jeno?” Of course, it was Jaehyun who had to interrupt you two. 

Your hands trembled as Jeno moved to the door, and you quickly turned towards the desk, rushing to sit down, pretending that nothing had happened—that you didn’t almost kiss Jeno a few seconds back. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, eyes furious with a hint of daze in them. “Yeah?” His voice came out strained as he asked Jaehyun through the door. 

“Mom wants to talk to you,” He said.

“Be right down,” he answered, shaking his head, staring at your way one last time, holding eye contact for a second, letting you see just how much he hated this situation, veins popping in his neck.

Then he opened the door, closing it behind him and disappearing from your eyesight. 

You stayed there, overwhelmed, lips tingling, pulse racing. 

A truth burned your skin in an excruciating pain. 

If he had kissed you, you wouldn’t have stopped him. 

Chapter 6: I can go from A to Z, but U is what I want. 

Jeno hadn’t texted you all night. 

Not that you waited, except, you did. 

He never came back to the room after Jaehyun called him out, you waited, till you couldn’t anymore and had to rush out before your mind drove you to the edge of insanity. 

So you grabbed your bag, rushing to the first place you thought of—the courtyard behind the Science block. It was calm, no student in sight, thankfully. 

Your five minutes of calm ended a second too quickly, a voice calling out your name in its full glory. You cursed the universe for treating you like this and you didn’t have to turn around to figure out who it was.

Jaemin. 

“I gotta admit, I didn’t peg you to fall for the broken type.” He stepped out smiling as insane as a villain who hasn’t moved on does. 

“Still stalking me?” You rolled your eyes, “get a fucking job.”

“I call it being invested,” he smirked, shoving hands in his pockets, “it’s honestly a downgrade, going from me to Jeno.”

“Not again,” you muttered, grabbing your book which you had just taken out. 

“I mean, trading me for Jeno?” Voice full of pity. 

“As if you were an option, Jaemin,” you turned sharply. 

That shut him up for half a second.

“I just don’t get it,” he said, voice colder now. “He’s always angry, I was angry, I made you feel something, can he say the same?”

Your head was hurting by now, as you mumbled yet another shut up, only to be stopped by Jaemin as he grabbed your arm. 

“What? He’s the angry, tortured type. You’re into hopeless projects now?”

“I’m into honesty,” you snapped, “something you don’t offer.”

“What does he have that I don’t?”

“Self awareness maybe,” a voice came from behind you, low, cold, almost lethal. 

Jeno was here. 

“Let go of her,” he said, dead-eyed, he was ready to snap. 

And Jaemin did, a scoff leaving his mouth before he smirked, “great, speak of the devil.”

Jeno raised his brow, “you done?”

Jaemin chuckled, “not even close.”

You sighed, “of course not,” this day couldn’t get worse. 

“You really think this is love or whatever?” He said, looking at Jeno but his words were directed to you instead, “he’s gonna burn you someday, and you’re gonna let him.” 

Oh god, you were not having any of this, why was this conversation even happening? It made absolutely no sense. 

Jeno moved faster this time, but you blocked his chest with your arms, “enough,” you said sharply. 

“Ask him to leave.” Jeno said, voice low. 

“Jaemin, just leave,” you said, turning to him. 

But he didn’t, and so Jeno did, shoving past you as you rolled your eyes, Jaemin’s sinister smile only widening, getting so close to him, he had to lean back slightly. 

“Don’t test me, and don’t come near her again, or else I won’t be this patient.” Jeno spoke. 

“Aw? You’re gonna hit me in front of her, Jeno?”

“I don’t need to, she already cut you deeper than I ever could.” 

Jaemin blinked, clenching his jaw, before turning to you, maintaining eye contact, “she’s not your girl, Jeno.”

“You don’t know that,” he gritted his teeth. 

“You’ll come back,” Jaemin’s jaw ticked as he said so. 

“Hold your breath until I do,” you replied.

That was it, he left. It wasn’t silent, nor dramatic, but with enough tension to let you know that he will be coming back. 

Once he was gone, you shoved Jeno, hard. 

“The fuck was that?”

“What? I came here trying to find you, only to witness you talking to him.”

“I didn’t want it to happen either, but the world hates me,” you mumbled, grabbing your bag and walking away with Jeno following you behind. 

“I fucking hate that he still gets to talk to you, why does he have access to you?” His voice rose and you prayed no one would hear him, thankfully this area was empty. 

“He doesn’t, and why do you even care?” You asked, with distress clear on your face, “pretending like I mean something to you in front of Jaemin is just as worse, Jeno.” 

“I—”

“No, you won’t even talk about last night, as if it didn’t happen,” you snapped and he froze, “you didn’t even come back to your room.”

His silence was your answer, and you knew this conversation wasn’t gonna go any further, Jeno couldn’t do that—he was scared of opening up, and he was scared of answering those questions, so even though you were hurting on the inside, you let him be. 

“Tomorrow, library, at five. Be on time.” You mumbled, leaving him behind you. 

“Fuck—fuck!” Jeno punched the wall next to him. He didn’t want you to go—the first person who ever tried to understand him, took his side, defended him. He was beyond scared of letting his guard down, so he groaned, sliding down the wall. 

“How do I even tell you I want you?”

Chapter 7: I stayed, even when it was easier to run.

The library was too quiet for how loud your mind was. The sound of your pen dragging across the paper felt almost intrusive as you tried to finish your assignment. 

It had been three nights since the library fiasco. 

Two nights since the almost kiss. 

One night since the blow up with Jaemin.

You almost didn’t wish to come here, yet here you were, with the sample test papers ready, clad in your little black skirt, a cardigan too loose for you, waiting for Jeno to show up—hoping he would. 

The clock ticked. He was a solid nineteen minutes late now, another minute and you’ll get up to leave. That’s when you heard the lazy footsteps approaching your side, the farthest corner of the library. You expected him to sit in front of you, yet he opted to sit right next to you, so close you could feel the fabric of his jeans brushing against your thigh. He took a seat without permission, like he had the right to be, like nothing had happened. 

He came in like guilt personified, shoulders hunched, hoodie loose, hair an unbrushed mess of indecision. And when he saw you?

He hesitated.

You didn’t look up, simply sliding him the sheet of questions to solve, the air around you turned weighted. His pen scratched, your leg bounced, you sipped water and he watched the corner of your mouth, practically burning holes into you. 

It was unbearable. 

This tension—it’s not a war but there’s rarely ever any peace. Catherine and Heathcliff reincarnated, except you weren’t on a moor, you were in a library, trying not to fall apart across the wooden study table. 

Just yesterday, he burned through Jaemin like jealousy was oxygen. 

He couldn’t stop staring, yet he solved the questions for forty minutes, sliding the sheet back to you for checking, expecting some sort of conversation now, anything, even a little hum of acknowledgement from your side, but none of it happened. 

He watched you scribble your pen over the margin, circling a few things, ticking the others, lip bitten in concentration. He observed you so intensely, how your eyes flicked across his answer sheet, but you didn’t look his way, not even once. 

“You won’t even talk to me now?” He asked, keeping his voice in check. 

“Four answers wrong, you did pretty well, can do better still,” you mumbled, passing him the paper. 

“Y/N,” he sighed, tired, he was afraid of this happening—letting you down, and that’s exactly what he did. Running away from his problems was what Jeno always did, he wasn’t perfect, he knows it, but he wants to try and be better, better for you. 

“You came late,” you said, still not looking up. 

“I didn’t sleep last night,” he exhaled, jaw clenched. 

“Not my problem,” you retorted. 

“I was thinking.”

“You should study instead.”

“You hate me now, huh?” Jeno leaned forward, voice flat. 

You blinked. The question hit out of nowhere.

“I don’t hate you,” you replied carefully. “But I don’t know how to deal with you either.”

“That’s not an answer.”

“No, Jeno. It’s the truth. And that’s more than you’ve been giving me.”

He looked at you then, really looked—eyes narrowed, jaw tight, like he was keeping a war behind his teeth. His eyes were empty, yet so full of you. 

“I don’t know how to do this,” he said, quietly. “I don’t know how to be—good at this, with you.”

“And yet you’re good at disappearing. You’re good at leaving me hanging like none of it mattered.”

You weren’t yelling. You didn’t need to. Your disappointment was louder than any raised voice.

Jeno sat back in his chair, breathing shallow. “You kissed me back.”

Your throat tightened, “you didn’t kiss me at all.”

“Exactly,” he muttered. “Because I would’ve ruined it. Ruined you.”

You shook your head slowly. “No, Jeno. You didn’t kiss me because you’re scared of how much you want to.”

His hands balled into fists. “And you’re not?”

“We’re not talking about me.” You looked away. 

He scoffed, turning to look at you fully, leaning in with his hand now resting on your thigh, burning the skin with his touch. 

“You want honesty, huh? So here it is—I’ve been thinking about you, about everything that’s happened in the past few days, no one’s ever messed with my mind so much and it fucking scares me. You’re messing me up—”

You couldn’t hear more, not when he was so close, not when he poured his heart out to you. Nothing about you two was normal, even your heartbeat was synced with how abnormally high they were. 

“Shh,” you mumbled, covering his mouth with your palm, and even the rude gesture calmed him down—your touch calmed him down. 

“You have an exam tomorrow.” You said and he stared, “study, pass the exam, and we’ll talk, yeah?”

He blinked, almost as if you showed him mercy, and gave him a chance to do something, to prove that he’s worthy of being near you. His scholarship, football, future—everything was at stake, but did he care? No. He cared about not letting you down. He wanted to prove himself to you. 

“You—you promise?” He asked, gripping the extra sheets and notes you passed his way.

You nodded, eyes softer now. You didn’t wanna hurt Jeno, you could see just how hard he tried to fight with his demons, but this time, you wanted him to win.

“I’ll be waiting.” 

You turned to leave then, leaving Jeno with his thoughts as he watched you leave, eyes on your legs. He gulped, looking back to the paper to find a line scribbled in your handwriting. 

You already know the answer, you’re just afraid of getting it wrong. 

It wasn’t about the question, it was about him. 

He just wanted to be worthy enough to stand in front of you and say I didn’t fuck this up this time. So he started, he worked all night, solved as many sample problems as he could, everything felt like a punch in the gut but he couldn’t give up, not this time. 

Jeno couldn’t sleep at night, 

I’ll be waiting. 

That’s what you told him, and he was looking forward to it, because for the very first time in his life, someone wasn’t waiting for him to fail. 

He woke up before his alarm had the chance to ring, didn’t care about his mother’s remark on how he woke up on time for once, or how Jaehyun gave him a long, unreadable look. Jeno didn’t react, he had bigger problems to tackle today. 

You were just as restless as him if not more, checking your phone every few minutes as if you’d get any text from Jeno. He must be busy studying, you hope that was the case. 

He walked into the exam hall calm, focused, terrified. He didn’t skip questions. He didn’t zone out.

He solved the final problem two minutes before time and rechecked every line like his life was hidden in the margins.

When he walked out of that room, his shirt clinging to the back of his neck from sweat, his palms aching from gripping the pen too hard—he knew. He’d done it. Or at least, he hoped he did. 

Yet, he didn’t text you, he wouldn’t until he got the results. 

Chapter 8: Jealousy is but a red thread around my throat. 

You waited, not loud, but silently. 

Two whole days, you held your breath, even planned on visiting the football practice to just get a glimpse of Jeno, yet you couldn’t muster enough courage to do so. God, you were so affected by everything he did, and this felt so very suffocating, waiting on someone. You knew what you felt, there was no point in denying it, however, you couldn’t figure out how it happened, so quickly at that. 

Heck, even Jaemin was more present in your chat inbox, even though you never replied to him, it just made you wonder if your time with Jeno was just a hoax. 

Did you imagine it all? 

On the other hand, on the other side of the city, sitting in a dim room with sunlight pouring in, Jeno was drowning in darkness. 

The exam portal was open in front of him, he refreshed the page every two seconds, not being able to sit still. His hands were shaking, not from fear but from want.  From the feeling of your voice telling him that you’ll talk to him once he proves himself. 

He gave up the wait, the result wasn’t out the whole day. It was three in the morning when the notification woke him up like a jolt. 

Results were out. 

He rushed to check it, the numbers stunning him as his jaw hung open. 

83%

Not perfect. But more than enough.

Enough to pass. Enough to stay on the team.

Enough to say, Look. I did it. I’m not a fuck-up. The first thing he thought of was you. So he typed—just two words.

Jeno: I passed.

Because he didn’t know how to say what he really wanted to—I passed, and all I could think about was your voice. I passed, and I still don’t feel whole unless you tell me you’re proud. I passed, and it’s not enough if I can’t show you.

Your reply came back six minutes later.

You: I knew you would. 

It was soft, gentle. But was it enough for Jeno? No. It should’ve been enough, but it wasn’t. 

He didn’t reply, he didn’t text you again. He opted to skip the lectures for the day and stay in his room, blinds closed, only darkness consuming him. 

You knew it was hard for Jeno, you knew you shouldn’t wait for his reply or him approaching you—he was too scared to do that, which is exactly why you grabbed your bag and went to his place the first thing in the morning. Maybe Jeno needed time, but you had to check. 

You rang the bell, your heart pounding as you did so, expecting Jeno to open up and see you. Once the door opened, your pulse stuttered. 

Jaehyun. 

Of course, it had to be him. 

“Y/N,” he said your name smoothly, “didn’t know you were coming by.”

You hesitated with a small chuckle, exhaling the breath you were holding, “is Jeno home?” 

He nodded, stepping aside to let you in, “yeah, he’s in his room, didn’t come out this morning at all.”

“Oh,” you said softly, wondering if he was alright. 

There was a pause, an awkward silence after that, you felt heavy, wanting to go upstairs but you weren’t sure if you were allowed to. 

Jaehyun closed the door behind you. “He’s been off since the results,” he said, voice low. “I thought passing would help, but I don’t know. He kind of shut down again after telling us he passed.”

You gulped, chest tightened at the revelation. 

“I came to check up on him, I’m not sure if he wants to meet though.”

“He’d want to see you.” Jaehyun said, smiling sincerely, “you’re good for him.”

Your eyes widened at that, “I’m not sure he thinks that.” You tried to smile, “can I go to his room?”

“He locked the door, I think he’s sleeping,” Jaehyun said apologetically. 

“I don’t wanna bother him.” You smiled sadly, “those are good pictures,” you mumbled, looking at the wall full of frames, particularly the ones with Jeno in them.

“Yeah, I took most of those,” Jaehyun replied with another smile, he knew you wanted to talk to Jeno so he suggested something, “Maybe if you take him something to eat? I can give the breakfast he skipped—”

“Oh no, I can run to the bakery and get something—”

Then you noticed a movement in your peripheral vision, you turned around to find Jeno. He was standing down the hall, his fluffy hair a mess, eyes wide as if he didn’t expect you to be here—especially with Jaehyun. 

“Hey,” you breathed out. 

No reply. 

“Y—you didn’t reply, I came to see you,” you tried speaking again. 

However, his expression didn’t change and suddenly, you felt like you shouldn’t have come here at all. He was frozen even when you said you wanted to make sure he was okay. Then he came back to his senses, clearing his throat. 

Jaehyun left the room, letting you two be alone. 

“Why didn’t you ask for me?” He whispered, just sadness in his voice. 

“I did, that’s what I came for,” you tried to explain.

Jeno stared at you, he was so broken inside he couldn’t let himself believe it. You dressed up, all pretty, your eyes so soft, your lips turning into a pout of disappointment. You looked perfect, and you came here for Jeno? He just could not believe it. 

“You were talking to him,” Jeno said, referring to Jaehyun, his voice broken. 

“He opened the door, what can I do?” You shook your head, trying to explain, “you didn’t even text back, Jeno.”

“I don’t know what to say,” he replied, “I’ve never done this before. I’ve never had someone wait for me and mean it.”

Your lips parted to reply but he wasn’t done. 

“You said you’d talk to me after the exam,” he went on, voice sharper now, “but when you showed up, you let him open the door. You let him tell you how I was.”

“I didn’t—” your voice faltered, “I didn’t come for him.”

“Didn’t look that way.”

That hurt. You flinched. “Jeno, why are you doing this?” 

“Because I waited for you,” he snapped. “I sat in that room like a fucking idiot thinking you’d come to see me. Not make small talk with my brother or compliment his photography.”

“You heard that?” You froze, it wasn’t your intention to do any of that. 

“I heard everything, every second you spent without taking my name,” he said. 

Just like that—he hurt you. Every conversation was about Jeno, every single one. He just couldn’t see it. 

“I thought I was getting better,” he admitted, quieter now. “I thought passing the exam would mean something. That it would be enough.”

“It was,” you whispered. “Jeno, it is. I am proud of you.”

“Then why didn’t it feel like it?” His voice broke on that line. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing a step away, then back, like his own body was a prison.

You stood frozen. Every word hit somewhere different.

“I wanted you to come,” he said, softer now. “Not to check in. Not to ask if I’d eaten. I wanted you to come for me. Just for me. You don’t get it, Y/N.”

“No,” you stepped forward. “You don’t get it. You think everything is about being chosen or abandoned. But not everyone’s trying to leave you, Jeno. Sometimes people show up. But you keep slamming the door in their face.”

He turned away. “Then go.”

“I came for you.” You said one last time, your eyes watering, not being able to contain the hurt you held in them. 

“Well, maybe you shouldn’t have.”

That one landed like a punch.

Your mouth opened. Then closed. You nodded. Just once.

“Fine.”

You turned.

And you left.

And this time, he didn’t stop you.

Chapter 9: I know that I’m hard to read, but you got me here to stay 

You spent most of your morning crying alone in your student council room, but it just wasn’t enough, not when you were being wronged every second of the day, not when the person you wanted kept running away from you no matter how hard you tried. At least you did. 

You couldn’t run away though, you had an important meeting with your council at six in the evening, by that time, you had done everything to make yourself look normal again, but your mind was entirely elsewhere, in another realm, a realm where things were different. 

Jeno, on the other hand, left his room as soon as he realized how wrong everything had gone. All afternoon his own words replayed in his mind, how he asked you to leave and how you left a single tear drop on the floor before you turned around and left. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have.

It felt like biting into something rotten, saying that out loud to you. Like watching the one and the only thing he wanted turn and walk away. You didn’t yell back, you didn’t beg, you went still, and left. He saw you leave—he made you leave. 

And he let you go anyway. Because that’s what he did. Because pushing people away was easier than asking them to stay.

Until now.

Now he was pacing in his room like a caged animal, hoodie still damp, heart in his throat. He kept hearing your voice in the hallway. Kept seeing your face. Kept remembering the way you reached for him and he didn’t reach back.

His chest felt tight, his limbs tense. He couldn’t stay here, not in this house, not knowing you might never come back.

He had to find you.

So he ran. He ran to the courtyard, not caring about the rain pour, soaking him up from head to toe. You weren’t in the library, not in the council room, the classrooms were empty. He was panicking. 

That’s when he heard a voice, turning around the corner of the athletic department, he walked straight into one of his football teammates he couldn’t stand at all—Minjae, a loud-mouthed asshole, smiling like a madman. 

“Fucking hell, Lee Jeno, you look like shit.” He grinned. 

Jeno didn’t answer, he was in a hurry, he had to find you, to make things right with you, he was about to push past Minjae when—

“Oh, by the way,” he smirked, “Jaemin told us a lot about how you finally landed his ex, the pretty goody two shoes, Y/N.”

Jeno froze, jaw clenched at the mention of you and Jaemin in the same sentence, coming from an asshole at that. 

“Didn’t think you’d have a go at someone like her. She seems to like guys who have more brains than biceps.” He laughed at his own joke. 

“The fuck did you just say?” 

Minjae laughed. “Chill, man. I’m just saying—props to you, seriously. Girl like that? All polished and pretty and loyal? I mean, not that it’ll last. Girls like that don’t stay with guys like us. She’ll figure it out eventually.”

Jeno’s vision turned black.

“Say that again,” he said, voice like static.

Minjae raised his hands. “Relax. You don’t need to get all—”

The punch landed before he could finish.

Minjae hit the ground hard, water splashing up from the impact, the rain pouring down heavier now. He tried to shove Jeno back, but to no avail as he bent down, his fist colliding with Minjae’s jaw again.  

Jeno wasn’t fighting Minjae per se, he was fighting every single voice that told him he wasn’t enough, that he could never live up to his brother, that he could never be with someone as perfect as you. That’s what he believed too, till you actually became real for him. 

His mind was elsewhere when he took a blow to his jaw, lip bleeding now, Jeno stumbled but scoffed before punching him again, and again, till his knuckles were shredded, a throbbing in his jaw which almost felt like fire. 

It was only when someone pulled him off of Minjae, Jeno stopped, spitting out blood in the rain slick grass. Everything hurt, but not as much as his burning chest. 

“Are you insane?” Someone yelled his way, “what the fuck is wrong with you?”

Jeno didn’t bother answering, pulling out his phone and rushing away, typing out texts to you. 

Jeno: where are you? please say something i’m so fucking sorry Y/N i didn’t mean it  i didn’t mean any of it i swear Y/N please 

No response. His messages were just there, unread, and unanswered. He simply didn’t know why. 

He didn’t know how you had been in the private meeting room for the past hour, student council prep being a whole scheduling disaster, handling arguments about clubs and their out-of-the-worldly budget demands. 

You were half awake at best, distracted by the storm that brewed outside. Your phone vibrates once, then again, and when you finally pull it out to check the numerous missed calls—your screen goes dark. Perfect, just on the day you didn’t bring your charger or powerbank. 

The feeling in your gut—it wasn’t good, which is why you excused yourself mid meeting, something you never do, to rush back home. You were soaked as you ran to your apartment, close to the University, thankfully. You plugged your phone in to charge as you rushed to take a shower, hoping the hot water would soothe your nerves. It didn’t. 

You kept thinking about Jeno, about the fight at his place earlier, how he asked you to leave with the saddest look in his eyes, and how badly it hurt you. You were out of the shower in fifteen minutes, toweling your hair with one hand and rushing to check your phone with the other, not expecting a myriad of notifications. 

17 Missed calls. 

6 Voicemails. 

26 Unread texts. 

The last of which made your blood run cold. 

Jeno: Y/N please  i’m outside 

You rushed to the front door, and he was there—leaning against the wall beside your entrance, hoodie clinging to him, hair wet and plastered to his forehead, eyes closed and him wincing like he couldn’t hold himself up anymore. Like it hurts too much to exist. Hands bruised, lip split, and he opened his eyes—bloodshot, glassy. 

“Jeno,” you gasped out loud, “w—what happened?” You said, going close to him. 

“I tried to find you,” he said, voice wrecked, “I tried but I couldn’t, I thought that maybe you blocked me.”

“No—I was in a meeting and my phone died, god I’m so sorry—fuck, come inside.” You shook your head in distress.

“Y/N,” he groaned, and you gently helped him when he didn’t move, like he wasn’t allowed to, “I fucked up.”

“Shh, come inside, it’s cold,” you whispered and he nodded after a moment of hesitation. You tried to be calm, you tried to take control of the situation for once and he listened, this time he did when you took him to your room. 

You didn’t ask how this happened to him, only guiding him to the bathroom, “you’re soaked and bleeding, take a shower, i’ll put your clothes in the wash and dryer.”

He opened his mouth to say otherwise, but you didn’t let him, grabbing a fresh towel and handing it to him. 

“Are you sure you want me here?” He asked, vulnerable. 

“I wouldn’t have opened the door otherwise, Jeno, I do.”

He nodded, swallowing hard as he disappeared into the bathroom without another word and you worked your washing machine and dryer, sitting down right after, exhaling and letting your guard down, hands shaking with worry. 

You were glad Jeno was taking his sweet time inside, because you had no clue how to go on with this situation. Jeno stalling coming out simply because he was ashamed, also consumed in how good your shampoo smells. He was at your place, in your bathroom, all bloodied up, why? Because he couldn’t be normal for once and let you in. 

His walls came crashing down each time you came closer to him, but this time, he didn’t want them to go back up the second he touched you, this time, he wanted you inside with him. 

His clothes were dry very soon and you kept them in your room, waiting outside by the sofa, letting him come out all dressed up. The water stopped soon, the door creaking as he came out, and you were sitting on the sofa, hair still wet. 

Then Jeno opened the door, you stood up at the noise, and he looked your way in a silent plea to ask you if he could sit next to you, and you nodded. He held up the bloodied towel, “I’m sorry,” he whispered, and you smiled softly, taking it away from him. 

The silence was too loud after as you both sat next to each other, you waited for him to say something, waited for the reality of tonight to settle in—to make sense, to stop trembling beneath your skin. And then he spoke as you took out your medicine kit, gently grabbing his hand to take a look at his bruised knuckles. 

“Y/N,” he took your name as if it was the only thing he knew. 

He watched you kneel in front of him, your eyes not angry, just steady, quiet, and unbearably kind. His fingers trembled in yours, you gently pulled the sleeve back, pressing a warm damp cloth to the wounds, making him wince slightly at the contact. 

“Sorry,” you breathed out. 

“I deserve worse,” he breathed back. 

“No, you don’t,” you said, looking up at him. 

He laughed under his breath, “why are you so kind to me? I don’t deserve it, Y/N.”

“You don’t get to decide what I give you, Jeno,” you replied, “you’re bleeding, again.”

“Not my first time.”

You gripped him tighter, “and that’s supposed to make it better?”

“No,” he said, voice low, “just means I’m good at it by now.”

You didn’t answer. Just ripped the antiseptic packet open a little more forcefully than necessary and pressed it to the bruised line of his knuckles. He flinched.

“Good,” you muttered. “Means you still feel something.”

“God, Y/N—”

“No,” you snapped, trying your best to act normal but you both were far from that, “not yet.”

You cleaned the split in his skin with the kind of precision that only comes from anger—controlled, careful, but deeply furious.

“You don’t get to act like none of this mattered,” you said, eyes locked on his wounds. “You don’t get to disappear into your guilt and then show up bleeding and say I didn’t know where else to go. That’s not enough.”

His jaw clenched. “I didn’t come for a reward.”

“Good,” you said coldly. “Because you’re not getting one.” You wrapped gauze around his hand slowly, tight enough that it would sting.

He didn’t pull away.

“I came because I thought I’d lose you,” he said through his teeth, “I came because I’m fucking terrified that I already did.”

“Who’s fault is that?” You said, standing up, “you keep doing this thing, you pull me in, let me see you and then the very second it gets real, you shut the door in my face.”

“I know,” he said. Loud. Frustrated. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t see the way you look at me when I say the wrong thing? Like you’re trying so fucking hard not to walk away?”

“You told me to go!”

“I didn’t mean it!”

“Then don’t say it!” You shouted, “don’t look at me like I’m everything one second and then act like I mean nothing the next!”

“I didn’t think you’d stay.”

“I stayed!”

You were both breathing hard now. Staring at each other like you didn’t know whether to cry or kiss or throw something, You still stood in between Jeno’s legs, him looking up at you.  Jeno ran a hand through his damp hair, pacing a few feet before turning back to you, eyes wide and glassy.

“I ruin things,” he said, “I always have. I don’t know how to love something without fucking it up. But I wanted you anyway—I still do.”

Your throat tightened. “And I’m supposed to what? Carry all of that? Be your exception?”

“No,” he said, stepping closer. “I just need you to see that I’m trying. Even if it’s ugly. Even if I’m bleeding and loud and afraid. I need you to see me, and stay anyway.”

You stared at him.

He looked like someone who hadn’t slept in days. Someone who’d gone through hell and walked straight into another fire because you were at the center of it.

Your voice cracked, “you don’t make it easy.”

“I know.”

You looked down at your hands—his blood still faintly on your fingertips. He reached out slowly. You didn’t move. Not when his fingers curled around your wrist. Not when he pulled you in his lap, not when his forehead leaned into yours like he was holding on for dear life.

“I hate that I hurt you,” he whispered. “But I’d rather burn with you than freeze without you.”

“I wasn’t gonna leave, Jeno.”

“I know.”

“Then why—”

“Because I’m sick,” he said suddenly. “Sick of being the one who’s always too much. Too angry. Too wrong. I get one thing right—one fucking exam—and even then I screw it up by throwing a punch at someone who talks shit about you and then picking a fight with the only person who’s ever actually looked at me like I could be more.”

Your breath hitched. You grabbed the gauze, wrapped it around his hand. Tighter than needed.

“Then be more, Jeno.”

He stared at you.

“Be more,” you repeated, “because I’m tired of being in love with someone who’s so determined to hate himself.”

That silenced him. Fully. Until he spoke again.

“You’re in love with me?”

The words dropped like a bomb between you.

You froze. Swallowed. Refused to take it back, chuckling to yourself at how easily you let go and told him that, “yeah—god help me, I am.”

Then you tried to move back, only his arms wrapped around your waist tighter, holding you in place, “you don’t get to say that and walk away.” He growled. 

“Who said I’m walking away?” You mumbled, holding onto his shoulder for support. 

It was unreal, how close you guys were but still not close enough, it was never enough. 

“You’re mad at me,” Jeno stated. 

“I should be mad.” 

“I’m mad too,” he added. 

“Good,” you rolled your eyes, trying to move again.

But he didn’t let you, not this time, his thumb brushing your cheek. 

That was it. That was when Jeno finally let go. He couldn’t delay this anymore, not again, not when you were right in front of him, not when your soft lips brushed so tenderly against his bruised ones, not when you told him you were in love with him—not when he knew he had to have you. 

He surged up and into you—hands gripping your face, mouth pressing against yours like it was the only way to breathe. It wasn’t gentle, it wasn’t neat, it was everything you’d been holding back.

Lips slotted together, you could taste blood on your tongue from where he was hurt before, which only made you groan into the kiss, he was frustrated, so frustrated, not having it in him to let go for even a second. 

You gasped, arms flying up to clutch at his shoulders, pressed chest-to-chest, his body was warm—too warm—and you could feel his tension in every line.

You broke the kiss first, panting, eyes wide. “You shouldn’t—” you tried to say, especially when his body was hurting. 

“I have to,” he breathed, leaning in again. “Let me, just once. Please.”

You didn’t stop him, grabbing his nape and pulling him into you once again, because when Jeno kissed you again, it felt like pain, penance, and pleasure all in one. It was as if he was trying to earn your forgiveness with his mouth, trying to pour out everything he couldn’t say to you, groaning into your mouth when your hips shifted over his lap. 

“I fucking—” He said midway the kiss, “god I—”

You shushed him gently, “you don’t have to say it.”

“I love you,” he breathed out, forehead pressed against yours, eyes earnest and full of life for the first time since you saw him, “I don’t care if it’s too early, I can’t fucking not say it, I love you, I—”

Before he could ruin the moment with the spiral in his throat, before he could pull back in fear, you pressed your lips against his like it was the only thing anchoring you to the earth.

He responded like he’d been starving. Mouth hot, desperate, hands gripping your waist like the world was falling apart and he only had seconds left to memorize you. The kiss was brutal in the way it made you feel, there was no choreography to it, no elegance—just lips, teeth, breath, and aching hunger.

His mouth was swollen. Your lips, bruised from how much he kissed you like he didn’t know how to stop.

“Tell me to stop,” he breathed.

You stared at him. “I don’t want you to.”

Then you grabbed his jaw once you heard him wince, “does it hurt?” You asked, pecking his jaw, trailing kisses all over. 

“It’s the only thing that doesn’t hurt,” he whispered, letting your lips take over, tracing every bit of his face and neck, his eyes closing with the fire that you ignited within him. 

“This feels like a dream,” he whispered.

“It’s not.”

“But it could be,” he added, almost to himself. “You���like this, in my lap, in your apartment, touching me like I’m not a monster.”

You cupped his face again, guiding his eyes to yours, “you’re not a monster, Jeno.”

“You don’t know the things I’ve thought.”

“Then tell me.”

His voice cracked, “I thought I’d die if I didn’t see you again. I thought that maybe I’m already ruined and maybe I don’t deserve you but I can’t stop loving you anyway. I thought—”

You kissed him again. Slow this time. Deep and aching, “then stop thinking,” you whispered, “just be here—with me.”

His fingers trembled as they curled into the hem of your shirt.

“Can I?”

You nodded.

He pulled the fabric up carefully, reverently, and you helped him, raising your arms until it was off. His breath hitched. Not because of how you looked—but because he was looking at you like that.

Like something sacred.

You grabbed the back of his hoodie, tugging. He hesitated for a split second before pulling it over his head. The sight made your breath catch.

His torso was littered with bruises, some dark purple, some fading yellow. His ribcage dipped where the muscle was taut with tension. You reached out, fingertips grazing over a particularly harsh mark near his side.

He flinched. “That one’s from earlier.”

Your jaw clenched, “you shouldn’t fight because of me.”

“I wasn’t,” he said, “I was fighting every voice in my head that said I wasn’t worth your love.”

You kissed the bruise.

He gasped.

“I hate that they ever made you feel like that.”

His hands slid back up to your sides, lips brushing your jaw. “You make it go quiet.”

“I want to,” you whispered.

Your kisses grew slow again, heavier with emotion than desire. You could feel his heartbeat where your chest pressed into his, your hands in his hair, his head tilted just enough to deepen the kiss. You rolled your hips slightly in his lap, and he groaned again, burying his face in your neck.

“Fuck, Y/N—”

“Jeno,” you murmured, your nails dragging softly along his back, “look at me.”

He lifted his head. His eyes—wild, glassy, full of everything he couldn’t say.

“I love you,” you said again. “I’m not afraid of it. So don’t be either.”

He leaned forward, pressing your foreheads together. 

“I don’t want to lose you.”

“You won’t.”

“You’re so fucking pretty, did I ever tell you that?” He mumbled against the skin of your neck, brushing his lips all over before placing open mouthed kisses over the expanse of your clavicle, “so fucking pretty.”

Jeno wasn’t gentle anymore, not when he’d been craving your presence, craving you. He couldn’t help but treat you like a reward, like he finally had won the only thing in life that actually mattered to him. 

He was quick to grab your waist and flip you over, getting on top of you on the couch that was too small for things he had planned in his mind. It was almost like a dam breaking the way his mouth was on your neck, biting, sucking, claiming you. 

“Jeno—” you mumbled, your back arching as you felt his body pressing into you, fingers wrapped around his wet locks as he marked your skin with every ounce of desperation he had, his fingers mapping out every inch of your body as if he’s afraid he’d forget it—as if he could ever forget anything about you. 

The warmth of his hands brushed over your bra clad nipples, a whimper leaving your mouth. Jeno wasn’t undressed yet you could feel him getting hard, and god you wondered just how big he was, grinding into you as if he was already inside your cunt. 

“I hurt you so fucking much,” Jeno mumbled, lips ghosting over your tit, “now I’ll hurt you in the way you want me to,” he said with dark eyes, yanking your bra down enough for your nipples to show, latching his mouth to you all in light speed. 

All his life Jeno couldn’t take control of anything, but seeing you shiver under him just made sense to Jeno, he had to take control—he had to make you feel so good, you wouldn’t ever look at anyone else. 

“You’re fucking crazy,” you whispered, already disheveled with how needy you were, wetness pooling in your panties, soiling the new pair you had put on not too long ago. 

“Yeah? You drive me crazy, baby,” he chuckled, and that sound went straight to your pussy. Jeno was hot, so fucking hot, but him using nicknames on you with his deep tone—only god knows how you would survive this. 

You bit your lip to conceal your moans, which only infuriated Jeno, biting your nipple harshly to make sure you scream, “don’t fucking hide your pretty voice,” he said. 

His hands went to your other breast and he gave it a tight squeeze, your eyes were on him as you watched his lips parting, letting his tongue make contact with the tip of your very hardened nub. He bites down on your nipple, making you cry out, but quickly soothes it with his tongue before switching to the other side, he wants to drive you wild with pleasure, to possess every inch of your body.

Lost in the haze of pleasure, you surrender yourself completely to Jeno’s possessive touches, letting him have his way with you. The room fills with the sounds of your moans and his desperate sucking, a symphony of carnal desire. In this moment, there is nothing but you and Jeno, and the burning hunger that consumes you both. 

Jeno’s hands roam across your body, his touch electric against your skin. He grabs your hips, pulling you flush against him as he claims your lips in yet another searing kiss, tongue delving into your mouth, hot and hungry, making you more hungry for his touch—for him. 

“I—can’t,” you whimpered, wanting more of him. 

Jeno chuckled, “can’t even speak now, hm? What happened to the feisty lil’ girl who couldn’t shut up?” 

“Fuck, shut up,” you mumbled, tugging on his hair harder, which only made him groan and squeeze your tits harder, coming up to brush his lips against yours, hot breaths intertwining as he smirks, hand travelling down your body, very close to the hem of your shorts. 

“Want me to shut up?” He asked, squeezing your neck with slight pressure, your mouth opening in a gasp—he took the opportunity to spit in your mouth, watching your eyes widen as watches you gulp it down, “good fucking girl,” he mumbles. 

You were too gone to function anymore and you had just started, but you knew one thing—whatever Jeno wanted, you’d let him do it to you. 

That man was no less than a Greek god with how sharp his features looked, especially in the dim light of the room, muscles flexing, abs on full display as he held himself up on top of you to press kisses all over. 

In a swift second, he pulled you up to unclasp your bra, throwing it away somewhere to continue pressing hot mouthed kisses down the valley of your breasts, and down your tummy, caressing it with the pad of his thumb, spending a good few seconds covering the expanse of your skin. 

You breathed harder once he reached the waistband of your shorts, his hooded eyes, almost drunk, looking up at you before he swiftly pulled them down, throwing them on the floor somewhere.

He couldn’t be gentle even if he tried, not when he was this thirsty, holding your legs open as he settled in the limited space that the couch held for him. Madman—that’s what he was and you couldn’t help but moan when he got closer to your panty clad cunt, burying his nose in the wet fabric, sniffing the scent of your arousal, groaning as he locked your thighs under his arms, which flexed harder now. 

You moaned his name as if a broken record repeating the same thing over and over again and he only mumbled things you couldn’t hear in your cunt, licking the already wet cloth, biting his lip at the first taste of you, “fuck—you’re so fucking perfect,” he says licking you harder, kissing your inner thighs alongside, leaving bites all over—he was feral. 

He slid your panties to the side, and the sight he had in front of him drove him to the edge. Jeno was an impatient man, yes, he was messy, he was not the softest, but seeing you like this just made him realize how much crazier he could be. 

That first taste emboldens him and he dives in like a man starved, lapping at your folds like he’s trying to consume you entirely. 

His desperate tongue delves deep inside, fucking you with rapid strokes and curling to hit your sweet spot. You cry out sharply at the intense sensation, fingers tangling in his tousled raven hair to hold him in place. He grips your thighs tightly, holding you down and open for his onslaught as he devours you. 

Jeno zeroes in on your clit, flicking and circling the sensitive bundle of nerves rapidly. Your back arches off the couch as he suckles hard on the throbbing bud, two fingers pumping inside your clenching hole.

“Fuck—Jeno, I’m gonna cum!” You wail, thighs trembling violently around his head as your climax approaches rapidly. He doubles his efforts, fucking you harder with his fingers and lashing your clit mercilessly with his tongue.

He curls his fingers to stroke your G-spot with every thrust, drawing out more of your copious arousal to lap up greedily. Your walls start to flutter and clench around him as the pressure builds unbearably.

 Jeno chuckled, the vibrations sending shockwaves through your body. “You like that, baby?” He practically purred, before sucking your clit into his mouth, flicking it with his tongue. 

“Fuck—yes,” you gasped, your head falling back against the couch. Jeno was relentless, his tongue exploring every inch of you, driving you closer and closer to the edge. 

“Don’t stop,” you pleaded, your thighs trembling as you stared at the ceiling with your mouth open, desperate for air. 

Jeno pulled back for a moment, looking up at you with a wicked grin, “you want more, kitten?” He teased, running a finger along your slit, “go on then, beg for it.”

You groaned in frustration, but you were too far gone to care, “please, Jeno,” you begged, fueling his ego. 

“Shhh, be a good lil’ kitten for me, yeah?” He mumbled into your core mindlessly, sending shivers up your spine as your thighs shake. He didn’t stop, but just when your ecstasy was about to crash—

He stopped. 

You let out a frustrated groan and Jeno only got up with the essence of you sprawled over his chin, his hard on begging to be freed. 

“Fuck?” You asked, trying to get up on your elbows, looking at him incredulously. 

He only gave you a once over, tongue poking his cheek from inside before he came closer, swooping you up in his arms easily as you yelped, eyes wide as he carried you to the bedroom, “no patience, huh?” He asked. 

He was proud of himself for making you this weak, for cracking your high wall down so he could see you, so he could ruin you. Jeno was possessive, especially after knowing what you and Jaemin went through, he wanted you to have the best, and he was willing to be the best for you. 

“I—I was gonna cum!” You said, holding on to him for support.

“Did I say you could?” He replied smoothly. 

“What—Jeno what the fuck?” You whined and he only chuckled.

“Be patient, love, or else you won’t be coming all fucking night, yeah?” He said as he let you get down on the bed. 

You looked so innocent, eyes watery, hair messy, looking up at him like an angry little kitten trying to look tough. He climbed the bed and you moved back, till your back hit the headboard and he hovered above you, caressing your cheek as he cupped your jaw, tilting your head up to look him in his eye. Your heartbeat speeding up yet again, and good lord you loved being manhandled by Jeno. 

“What are you thinking?” He asked, thumb pushing on your lower lip. 

“Nothing.” You mumbled. 

He leaned in closer, “not thinking of my cock inside your pretty little cunt, hm?” He asks, watching you shiver at the thought, “by the time I'm done with you, you’ll be begging me to let you cum.”

Your jaw clenched as you slide your hand up Jeno’s torso, tracing all the way from his abs to his neck, his own body reacting to your touch, cock twitching inside his pants by the time your hand rested on his nape, pulling him even closer so your noses were touching. 

“You know, Jeno, you talk big game. Don’t make promises you can’t back up,” you mumbled to rile him up. 

Jeno’s eyes flashed with a mixture of lust and irritation at your challenge, “oh, you’re going to regret those words,” he whispered, his hands gripping your hips possessively. “I’m going to make you beg for my cock, baby.”

He punctuated his statement with a sharp thrust of his fingers, two of them plunging deep into your sopping wet pussy. You gasped, your back arching off the bed as he worked them in and out, stroking along your sensitive walls.

“Fuck, you’re so tight,” he panted, his thumb rubbing firm circles on your clit. “I can’t wait to feel this perfect little cunt wrapped around my cock.”

You moaned, your hips rolling to meet his hand as he fucked you with his fingers. “Then stop talking and do something about it,” you shot back, your voice breathy with desire.

Jeno chuckled darkly, withdrawing his fingers only to bring them to his mouth. He sucked them clean, his eyes never leaving yours as he savored your taste. “Mmh—delicious,” he purred, “but I’m not done playing with you yet.”

Before you could protest, he was pushing your thighs apart and settling between them. His tongue delved into your folds, lapping at your arousal like a man starved. You cried out, your fingers tangling in his hair as he devoured your pussy with single-minded intensity.

He worked you over mercilessly, his tongue and lips and teeth finding all the right spots to drive you wild. You bucked against his face, your thighs trembling as the pleasure built inside you. Just when you thought you might burst, Jeno would back off, leaving you desperate and aching for release.

“Jeno, please,” you whimpered, tugging on his hair in a futile attempt to guide him back to where you needed him most, “I need to cum. Please let me cum.”

He lifted his head, his chin glistening as he looked up at you. “Not yet,” he shook his head, his fingers continuing their maddeningly slow circles on your clit, “I want to hear you scream first.”

“I fucking can’t!” You breathed out, trying to control your moans again, “someone’s gonna hear and—ah—complain about it,” you said, which only made him scoff. 

“Is that it, hm? Have it your way then, princess,” he mumbled, yanking your soiled panties down all the way, balling it up in his first to make a gag out of it and shoving it down your mouth, “now you can scream all your want, Y/N.” He said, taking your name in his deep voice. 

And if you weren’t crazy before, now you had reached your limit of madness, even a poke from his side was like a pleasant burning wound to your skin, his actions also made you realize just how hungry Jeno was for being the one in control. 

You squirmed beneath Jeno, feeling utterly at his mercy as he continued his torturous teasing. The gag in your mouth muffled your moans but couldn’t silence them completely, much to Jeno’s enjoyment. Your body arched, yearning for more, desperate for release.

“Such a needy lil’ thing, aren’t you?” Jeno growled, his fingers still circling your sensitive bud, “I can feel how wet you are, taste how wet you are, dripping for me, hm?”

His words made you clench, fresh arousal coating his fingers. He gathered some of your slickness and slowly dragged it up to your throbbing clit, applying just the right amount of pressure. Your hips bucked up in hopes of seeking more contact.

“Hm—so responsive,” Jeno purred, looking pleased with himself, “I could do this all night—keep you on the edge, begging so desperately for me.”

“Please—” you tried to say around the gag, your eyes pleading, you were so close, teetering on the brink of an explosive climax. Just a little more.

But Jeno seemed determined to deny you that satisfaction, easing off right as you were about to fall over into your state of euphoria, frustration bubbled up inside you, mingling with the overwhelming lust coursing through your veins.

“You’re going to have to do better than that, baby,” Jeno taunted, nipping at your inner thigh, “I want to hear you scream my name—let everyone know who you belong to.”

His fingers circled, feather-light touches that drove you wild with need. You thrashed beneath him, incoherent noises of desperation spilling from your lips. Jeno just chuckled darkly, clearly enjoying your plight, removing your gag to hear you gasp loudly, his name on the tip of your tongue. 

Jeno was cruel, so cruel the way he denied your orgasm yet again with a smirk playing on his face, a whole one eighty from how he was an hour back and you were crying by now, something he seemed to enjoy too as he licked your face, tasting the salty teardrop you let out, “this makes me wanna ruin you more, y’know?” 

“Fuck—Jeno, let me cum please,” you sobbed as he took you in his arms. 

“You wanna cum, hm?” He asked as you settled on his lap, his hard on pressing against your thigh as you nodded, “fuck, you look so pretty crying like that for me, like a doll, a doll for me to use, hm?”

You couldn’t take it anymore, getting off and undoing his pant buttons as he watched you with amusement how you struggled to take off his pants and boxers, only to find his cock waiting for you, hard and proud. 

Jeno’s cock was throbbing, hard and ready to burst, as you took him into your mouth, your tongue swirling around his tip in a teasing manner. You could taste the salty beads of precum leaking from his slit, the flavor sending a jolt of desire straight to your core.

“Fuck—baby,” Jeno groaned, his fingers threading through your hair as you bobbed your head, taking him deeper into your throat. “Your mouth feels so good. Keep going just like that, good girl.”

You moaned around his length, the vibrations making him shudder. Your own arousal was dripping down your thighs, coating them with your slick essence. The wet sounds of your slurping filled the room, mingling with Jeno’s heavy breaths and grunts of pleasure.

“Shit—fuck, take it easy, I won’t be able to hold back," he panted, his grip on your hair tightening, “I’m gonna fucking come down your throat if you keep sucking me like that.”

You redoubled your efforts, eager to taste his release. Your tongue flattened against the underside of his shaft as you sucked harder, determined to milk him of every last drop. Just as you felt him start to swell, signaling his impending orgasm, you pulled away with a pop.

Jeno’s eyes jolted open, a mix of confusion and frustration flashing across his face. “What the fuck, baby? Why the fuck did you stop?”

You just smiled coyly up at him, licking your lips. “Because I want you to come inside me. I want to feel you fill me up with your hot cum, or are you too much of a coward to fuck me?” You teased, your grin making him scoff. 

God he loved you. 

Jeno growled, a predatory gleam in his eyes. In a flash, he grabbed your hips and flipped you onto your side, your back pressed firmly against his torso. 

Before you could even process the sudden change in position, he was lined up at your entrance, the head of his cock nudging your slick folds.

“Teasing me will only get you punished,” he warned, his voice low and husky with desire. “I’m going to fuck you so hard, you won’t be able to walk straight for a week.”

With that promise, he slammed into you, burying himself to the hilt in one powerful thrust. You cried out at the sudden intrusion, your back arching as he filled you completely. Jeno set a brutal pace, pounding into you with wild abandon.

You let out a sharp cry as Jeno’s thick cock stretched you open, filling you so deeply that you could feel him bulging through your lower abdomen. The feeling of his hard length pulsing inside you sent shockwaves of pleasure through your body, making you arch your back and press your ass against him.

“Lord—ah yes,” you gasped, grinding against him, “you’re—so fucking big.”

Jeno grunted in response, his fingers digging into your hips as he continued to pound into you at a furious pace. The sounds of skin slapping against skin and your needy moans filled the room, mixing with the creaking of the bed frame beneath you.

“Shit, your cunt is so tight,” Jeno mumbled, his breath hot against your neck. “Squeezing my cock like a desperate doll—you were made for me, baby. Made to take my dick and milk me dry.”

His filthy words only heightened your arousal, making you clench even tighter around him. You could feel your orgasm building again, the tension coiling in your core as he hit that special spot deep inside you with each thrust.

“Please don’t stop, not this time,” you pleaded, your nails digging into his thighs. “Fuck me harder, Jeno. I’m so fucking close.”

He was quick to flip you over again so you were resting on your back, his hips settling in between you as he held your thighs up, your legs resting on both his shoulders with ease as he snapped into you harder, plunging his cock with more need, as if he was a monster hungry for lust and only lust.

Jeno snarled, his hips snapping forward with a newfound vigor. One hand moved around to rub firm circles around your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge. Your body began to tremble, your breath coming out in short gasps as you found yourself on the brink of ecstasy.

“Cum for me,” Jeno demanded, pinching your clit hard, “I want to feel you cum all over my dick, baby.”

With a scream of his name, you practically exploded, your pussy clamping down around him like a vice as your orgasm crashed over you. Your body convulsed, your back bowing as wave after wave of intense pleasure washed through you, which shocked Jeno because you weren’t just having an orgasm. 

You were squirting all over his cock. 

Jeno followed shortly after, his cock pulsing as he spilled his release deep inside you, as he breathed hard, watching you with surprised eyes.

“Fuck,” he groaned, grinding against you to prolong your shared climax, “you’re so fucking hot, so fucking mine.”

You whimpered at the feeling of his hot cum painting your walls, the sensation making your pussy flutter around his shaft. Jeno held you close as you both rode out the aftershocks, his softening cock still buried inside you.

“You’re mine,” he mumbled, “say it.”

“Yours—I’m yours,” you breathed as best as you could. 

“Again.”

“I’m yours, Jeno.”

“Fuck—again.”

“So so fucking yours, I’m all yours Jeno.”

“Mine,” he whispered, so possessive. 

After a few moments, Jeno carefully pulled out and rolled you onto your back. He pressed gentle kisses along your jawline and down your neck, his touch soothing and tender in contrast to the rough passion from moments before.

“That was intense,” he murmured, nuzzling against your collarbone, “I don’t think i’ll ever get enough of you, baby. You’re fucking addictive.”

You smiled up at him, reaching up to cup his face. "I could say the same about you. The way you fuck me, it’s like you’re a fucking beast.”

“Was I too harsh?” He asked, placing soft kisses all over, “I’m sorry I just lost control—you have no idea how badly I need you, I don’t think I can stop,” he confessed. 

You kissed him again, “then don’t stop, just don’t.”

That’s all he needed to hear for the night, that you were finally his, and he was yours. He smirked, the night was just getting started. 

Chapter 10: Hate me less? You love me more. 

You don’t remember how the night ended, not when Jeno kept his promise of how you wouldn’t be able to walk anymore once he was done with you, and he was precise about it. He was far from done when he made you fall apart on his cock so many times, you lost count. 

It was a crazy switch up once you both were done, he took care of you, almost like he was made for it, helping you clean up in little bathtub which was definitely too small to fit the both of you, yet he helped you bath, a faint blush on his face as you laughed once he tried to act sly, touching you again when you were so sensitive and overstimulated. 

Turns out, Jeno can be super clingy when he has to be, also not letting you go once you get out of the tub, helping you dry your hair, helping you moisturize your body, helping you smile by kissing you every few seconds. 

He held you to sleep, not before hearing you say you actually want him and it’s not a dream. Jeno doesn’t remember if he ever felt this way before, this warmth called happiness that you provided him so easily. 

“I love you,” he mumbled to your sleeping figure, he was whipped, already thinking of your future together. Yeah, maybe it all happened too quickly, he still wouldn’t have it any other way. He wouldn’t mind getting through all the hurt again if it meant that he’d wake up to you sleeping next to him—to you loving him. 

It was perhaps the best day of Jeno’s life. 

The air felt different today.

Not because of the weather, which was finally warm and breezy after days of storm and stress, but because Jeno was walking beside you—not behind, not ahead—beside you. His fingers were laced with yours, his thumb brushing over your skin every few steps like he was still checking if this was real, he still couldn’t believe it. 

It was.

You passed the main quad slowly, in no rush. The two of you didn’t need to say much. Conversations dimmed as you walked through. You could feel the glances, the whispers.

Someone definitely said your name. Then his.

And then, clear as day, they whispered. 

“Wait—are they actually holding hands?”

Jeno didn’t flinch.

Not like he would’ve, weeks ago. Not like the boy who couldn’t stand being seen, being known. Instead, he just grabbed your hand a little tighter—casual, sure, and completely unbothered. His expression said it all—Yeah, and?

You chuckled. “Think they’re combusting?”

“Oh, definitely,” he said, tugging you closer with a smugness he barely bothered to hide anymore. “Especially that one girl who’s walking with me, who swore she’d never even look at me.”

“She wasn’t entirely wrong,” you teased. “You were kind of a menace.”

He groaned, tossing his head back, “were?”

You laughed, and it made him smile, soft and full, the kind of smile he used to hide and now gave you freely.

“You’re doing that look again,” he said, side-eyeing you. “Like you’re psychoanalyzing me.”

“Maybe I am. Can’t help it. You’re a walking dissertation, y’know?”

“Yeah? What’s the title?”

You looked up at him with a shrug. “How to fall for someone you’re supposed to hate.”

That made him stop walking.

You blinked, startled, but he was already turning to face you, his hoodie sleeves pushed up just enough to show the fading bruises on his knuckles—old reminders of the version of him you never gave up on.

“I’m glad you did,” he said. “Fall for me. Even when I made it so damn hard.”

You smiled slowly, the kind of smile that made his breath catch. “You still do.”

“Yeah, well,” he squeezed your hand, “at least I’m hot.”

You were too busy rolling your eyes to realize you’d just walked past Jaemin and his friends until the entire bench went awkwardly quiet. Jaemin looked up, eyes flicking from your joined hands to your face, and then to Jeno—who didn’t even spare him a glance.

He was too focused on you. Too content stealing a bite of your ice cream like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Let’s go,” you muttered, trying not to laugh as you nudged him forward.

Jeno followed. No hesitation.

Because this, the hand holding, the quiet teasing, the stares that didn’t matter anymore, this was normal.

And for the first time in his life, Jeno finally understood: Normal didn’t mean boring.

It meant chosen. It meant enough.

It meant being yours.

THANK YOU FOR READING!

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[chloe-skywalker]

You Know This Guy? - Bucky Barnes /Alexei

Bucky x Fem!Reader

Alexei x Daughter!Reader

Warnings: none

Word count: 659

Summary: Bucky called you to help manage these guys, he didn’t know Y/n would personally know Alexei.

Authors Note: Part 2 ? I wrote this before the movie came out so once I see the movie part 2 would be possible to write. Okay so I wrote this in february and didn’t find out till articles came out and said it in April but this fit almost the mental health theme of the movie. Definitely want to do a part 2.

Masterlist

Avengers Masterlist

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

“Ah Y/n!” Alexei exclaimed in pure excitement at seeing the young woman enter the room with Barnes. Y/n and Bucky immediately looked towards the man in question and Y/n stood in shock and Bucky in confusion.

“You know this guy?” Bucky tilted his head towards Y/n but kept his eye’s on Alexei. Bucky didn’t trust anyone in this room, besides Y/n.

“A long time ago.” Y/n answered Bucky as well as copying him and keeping her eye’s on the man she hadn’t seen in a very long time. Not since she was a child.

“Oh my sweet, Y/n.” Alexei smiled as he approached her wrapping her up in his arms lifting her off the ground, hugging her to his chest.

“Okay, let me down.” Y/n squeezed out at how tight his hold was and she didn’t particularly like being lifted off the floor.

“I’m so happy your here. And you know Barnes!” Alexei put her back down on her feet moving his hands up to cup her cheeks, squishing them in the process.

“Yeah, yeah I know Barnes.” Y/n answered with a nod as she reached up grabbing his wrists to lower his hands from her face.

“Fantastic.” He clapped smiling looking between her and Bucky.

“May I talk to you for a sec?” Bucky asked placing a hand on Y/n’s lower back to get her attention, but to also provide her with comfort having noticed how tense she had become.

“Uh huh.” Y/n nodded leaning back into his hand as they left the room.

“How do you know this guy?” Bucky nodded back towards the room where they had left everyone else as he referred back to the burly man weathering a to tight suit. A suit neither one of them was sure ever really fit that man.

“I know pretty much all of the Bucky. John from when we helped Sam, Yelena from the Red Room-” Y/n started listing how she knew a couple of the people in the other room, but she was actively avoiding giving a straight answer to his question for as long as she could.

“How do you know Alexei?” Bucky clarified knowing her well enough to know she was stalling.

Y/n sighed, she didn’t like bringing up the past, especially this. “I was part of that undercover family with Nat and Yelena when we were kids.”

“Yeah you told me.” Bucky knew the story, she had told him before. It was the only family experince the 3 girls ever had for most of their lives.

“He was our undercover father.” Y/n stated biting her lip and let out a shaky breath.

Bucky’s eyes widened a she lifted his arm and pointed back to the other room in shock, needing extra comfirmation. “He was?”

“Yeah. A decent one to.” She nodded looking away, she didn’t like the feelings that were coming up when talking about it sure she told Bucky about this before, but not into to much detail.

“Are you going to be okay with this?” Bucky was worried with how being around Alexei could effect Y/n menatly and emtionally.

“Do I have a choice?” Y/n shrugged, it’s not like they really had a say in the matter.

Bucky hated that he felt helpless in this situation. “I don’t want you to feel-”

“We don’t have any say in the matter Bucky. I just have to. . . be okay with it.” Y/n cut him off shaking her head as she does so. There wasn’t anything they could do.

Bucky rubbed his none metal hand down his face not liking their lack of options. The only thing he could think of was to get their job done as fast as possible. “Let’s get this done fast so we can go back home.”

“Yeah.” Y/n agreed hoping they wouldn’t hit anymore snag’s so they could go home.

Taglist: @padawancat97 @maryvibess @gruffle1 @starkleila

[gay-dorito-dust]

You love kissing Bob/sentry’s face or reminding him that you loved him, the way his entire face seemed to brighten upon hearing you say it, his eyes shining with happiness it was impossible for him contain anymore.

‘You do?’ He asks.

‘How could I not?’ You combated his question with another question as you fiddled with his hair, in this moment there was nothing you desired more then being able to relax with Bob like this, no interruptions and no impromptu missions to go on; just the two of you reiterating your deeply felt feelings towards one another.

‘Even if-‘

‘Even if and all the if’s that you think will make me love you any less.’ You cut him off by pressing a kiss to his nose, hearing him sigh in relieve as he personally leant further against you in a attempt to receive more off your affection, having become addicted the moment you had caressed his face in an attempt to calm him down when he tried to tell you of all the bad that would come with loving him.

Yet here you were months later and never once had you ever felt like you were forced to say ‘I love you’ to Bob/sentry, not when every single one of them was real and as genuine as the one that has come before with the love you felt for him increasing the longer you’ve stayed with him. It was the one thing Bob was extremely grateful for as he felt himself a honoured man for finding someone like you to have and to hold at the beginning and end of each and every night.

He had wished everyone had someone like you in their life, yet he was the lucky one for having you in his life and reassuring him and his thoughts, silencing his mind when it got too much to handle at times while looking into his eyes. Such simple things you do and yet they truly meant everything to him, every single last one of them he wouldn’t ever dare forget.

Bob/sentry felt like he belonged here in your arms, it just felt right and he didn’t want to be anywhere else as he further sunk into your embrace. ‘I sure am lucky.’ He says mainly to himself yet not minding the fact that you heard him, he wanted you to regardless.

‘And I sure am lucky too.’ You replied softly, kissing his forehead. ‘Super lucky even.’ You added as placed one last kiss to his nose before dragging him into a shared slumber where nothing bad could ever touch either of you, so strongly cuddled up together in a protective embrace.

[satorella]

“𝐈 𝐡𝐚𝐭𝐞 (𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆) 𝐲𝐨𝐮.”

You watched as a bead of sweat dripped down the side of 𝐒𝐚𝐞’𝐬 temple. You guys have been at this for what felt like forever.

“You think you’re so fucking cool. Don’t you, Itoshi?” You taunted, with a mischievous grin forming on your face. “Just because I’m a girl, you think you’re better than me? I made it this far in the academy, same as you. Asshole.”

“You gonna keep hogging the ball, L/n? Hurry up and pass it to someone already so we can call it a day.” Sae sighs, his usual bored expression on his face.

His nonchalance spikes your goddamn blood pressure.

You grit your teeth, “Why? So you can just steal it from whichever loser teammate of mine? Fuck you.”

“Ah great, here we go again…” You hear the other players whine in the background.

That was the last time you saw Sae Itoshi, before you got scouted by your dream team overseas.

Madrid was quiet. Too quiet without you. He realized then, that the challenge wasn’t as fun anymore… if it wasn’t with you.

He wondered how you were doing. If you were happy with your new team and friends. If you were content with how your life was going right now.

If you’ve thought about him at all…

Wait. Is that what this feeling is? He misses you? Nah, can’t be him. You guys were rivals. You guys have hated each other since the day he arrived at the academy.

Well… you did, anyway. He never actually hated you. How could he, when you were the only form of entertainment he had there? The only one who could get his heart pumping… in more ways than one.

His thumb hovered over your contact.

Would you even answer?

Fuck it. Only one way to find out. And if you didn’t answer, he’ll just say it was a buttdial. Boom.

He pressed the call button.

After a few rings, you still hadn’t answered. Damnit, he shouldn’t have done this. He was about to cut off the call, when…

“Hello?” You finally answered, groggy from sleep.

He was silent for a second. He didn’t think you’d actually answer. But fuck did he feel a bit relieved.

“It’s me.” Was all he managed to get out. Idiot.

“Um, yeah? I know?” You pulled your phone away from your ear to double check the contact name. “Did I wake you?” He mentally facepalmed himself. He totally forgot about the different timezones.

You rolled onto your back and rubbed your eyes, “Y-Yeah…” He pinched the bridge of his nose, “Sorry. I’ll let you go-”

“Did you need something, Sae?” You cut him off, surprisingly not wanting to end the conversation just yet.

He blinked up at the ceiling. This was the first time he’s ever heard you call him by his first name, or spoken to him in a softer tone in general…

“Sae?” You called out to him again, snapping him out of his thoughts. “How’s your new team?” He clears his throat, his usual stoic tone returning. Though it didn’t annoy you this time.

You sat up in bed, fully awake now. “Good enough for me, as I knew they would be. My dream team after all, heh.” He nodded, even though you couldn’t see it. Good, you were happy.

“What about you? How are things?” You asked, genuinely curious. “Honestly? Boring.” He sighed. “How so?” “No one challenges me anymore. Not like you.” He spoke before thinking his words through. “Oh? Don’t tell me you miss me.” You joked. “I do.” He says bluntly. Your eyes widened, “I-I was kidding!” “I wasn’t.”

“…Did something happen, or?” You could hear your heart thumping in your chest. “No. Just wanted to hear your voice.” “You really don’t hold back, huh?” You chuckled awkwardly.

How were you supposed to respond? The guy hates your guts…

Right?

“Do you miss it?” He asked. “Eh? Miss what?” “Shit talking me every day. Glaring at me every chance you get.” He elaborates. You thought for a moment.

“Well I mean, my blood pressure doesn’t spike as much now that you aren’t around.” You joked again, “But… yeah. I miss beating you at your own game and all.” “Shut up,” He clicks his tongue, “I’m being serious.”

This conversation was making you… feel things. Things you tried to deny and hide away.

“…Yeah. I do kinda sorta… miss you. Just a teeny tiny bit. But don’t let that get to your head. Asshole.” Ah, and there it was. He was starting to think you’d gone soft.

“Come see me.” He blurted. Shit.

“W-What?” You tried not to sound surprised. “It’s off-season. And you’re clearly not going anywhere or visiting your family. So come visit me instead. I’m sure the bartender at that one bar downtown would have a kick at seeing us together… not trying to kill each other for once.” The last part made you giggle.

Sae Itoshi actually managed to make you laugh. Not a menacing or angry laugh, but a cute laugh.

Maybe moving overseas did make you soft…

Or maybe missing you, made HIM soft?

When you didn’t say anything for a while, he spoke up again. “I just emailed you the plane ticket.” You blinked at nothing, “What?!” You quickly rolled out of bed, stumbled over to your desk, opened your laptop, and logged into your email.

Sure enough, there was an email from him. “S-Sae you didn’t have to pay for my- huh? Day after tomorrow?!” “It was the last and soonest flight. Perfect right?” You could tell he probably had a smug expression on his face right now. “I didn’t even say yes!” You scoffed. “True, but I knew you would have. Anyways, I’ll let you go back to bed now. See you on Friday.”

“W-Wait!” You quickly called out before he could hang up on you. “What?” “I, um…” He waited for you to continue, “…I-I hate you.”

He let out a barely there, soft chuckle.

“I hate you too, Y/n.”

© 𝐒𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐥𝐚 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟒-𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓. 𝐀𝐥𝐥 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭𝐬 𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐫𝐯𝐞𝐝.

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[fairytaleendingss]

That's So True

Summary: You love James but he loves Lily and all you can do is watch as he drifts away.

Pairing: James Potter x fem!Reader

CW: Lily Evans slander (I'm sorry! I love her so much but it just made sense for the context of the story!!), unrequited love, no happy ending.

In honour of the Gracie Abrams concert I'm going to tomorrow!

This turned out much sadder than I was intending. Let me know if I should write a part 2!

--

He was laughing. Really laughing, with his head thrown back and that signature goofy grin plastered on his face. Your brows furrowed as you watched them across the common room over your textbook. He was leaning in towards her, his eyes alight in a way that no one else but Lily could insight.

Lily Evans was the bane of your existence. She was perfect. Beautiful, smart, apparently funny too. She'd been the apple of James's eye ever since he started going to Hogwarts and the cause of your anguish for just as long.

James Potter was your best friend. He had been for some time now. Ever since you were paired together in Care of Magical Creatures in third year, the two of you just seemed to click.

It wasn't until two years later when you noticed the butterflies that began to flutter in your stomach when he was around, or the pulse of electricity that jolted through you when you touched. It was no secret that James was attractive, one of the most attractive boys in the school, in fact. And you found yourself more often then not getting caught up in admiring him whenever you spent time together as of late.

The only problem was, Lily. Beautiful, perfect, wonderful Lily. He loved her and you couldn't blame him. She was everything he could ask for and more. And the worst part was, you couldn't even hate her for it - as much as you wanted to. She'd been nothing but lovely to you.

"Hey, are you okay?"

You looked up to see that Remus had come to stand beside you. His gaze was following yours to where it fell on the happy couple. He sighed, his eyes filling with a pity that you didn't need or want from him.

"I'm fine," you told him stoically, shifting your gaze away and forcing a smile.

Remus could see right through it. He had a way of doing that. Of looking at someone and just somehow knowing what was going on inside their head.

"He's just another boy, you know," Remus muttered. "There'll be others."

"I know," your eyes shifted to the ground. "Doesn't make it hurt any less."

--

"Y/n wait!"

You were walking from your last class of the day, intent on taking a stroll through the grounds to clear your mind. School work had been hitting you hard recently, with NEWTs just around the corner. And the distraction of everything going on with James and Lily hadn't helped.

You sighed as you turned to see Lily rushing to catch up with you, James in tow. Your blood boiled as she sent you that sickeningly sweet smile of hers.

"James and I are going to study in the Library and we wanted to know if you'd join us."

You forced a grin and did your best to contain your contempt for the situation.

"Thanks for the offer but I already had study plans for this afternoon."

"Oh come on Y/n. I know you don't," James remarked. "Besides, we haven't had the chance to spend much time together recently. I miss you."

You sighed once more. He wasn't wrong. Once upon a time, it was you and James that studied together. You'd spend most of the time joking and laughing and complaining about how boring all the classwork was. But ever since he and Lily had gotten together, there hadn't been much time for any of that anymore.

He was spending all his time with her now, and you had fallen by the wayside in the process. It hurt almost as much as the heartbreak and if you were being honest, you missed him as well.

"Please!" Lily pleaded with you, noticing the look of hesitancy on your face. "We'd really love you to come with us."

"Okay, sure," you gave in. You didn't stand a chance when James gave you that hopeful look of his. The one that reminded you of a puppy ready to play.

"Yes! I knew you'd come around!" James cheered and absentmindedly threw his arm around your shoulders as the three of you turned and made your way to the library. Little did he know how much that one small action could make your heart race.

--

The Library was empty save for the three of you and the tension so thick you could cut it with a knife. James was sat beside you, a book on Charms shared between the two of you. Lily sat across the table, writing her potions essay.

They kept glancing up when they thought you weren't looking, making eyes at each other every time you turned away. They thought you didn't notice but you did.

You noticed everything James did. Every soft, stolen glance, every pout that lined his lips, every time he ran his hand through his mattered curls when he was feeling overwhelmed. And you knew the look he gave her. It was the same look you wore when you looked at him.

Lily giggled and whispered "James, stop!" as he played footsies with her under the table. You swallowed the urge to roll your eyes. It was so disgustingly romantic. Everything was with James.

With a shallow breath you slid your chair backwards. You couldn't take anymore of this.

"What's going on?" James asked, wide eyed as you gathered your things.

"I'm just not feeling so well all of a sudden. I think I'm going to go."

You couldn't bring yourself to meet James' eyes. You knew they'd be full of worry and you couldn't afford to collapse to his will anymore.

"Are you okay?" that was Lily. Ever sweet and kind and gentle. You couldn't hate her. You shouldn't but you did.

"Yes, I'm fine." you mustered a smile even as tears began to burn in your eyes. You looked down at them, their expressions filled with concern and confusion as you made for a swift exit. They looked perfect together. Not even you could deny that.

"I'll see you guys later."

And with that you were gone, hurrying towards the library doors, hoping desperately to make it back to your dormitory before the tears began to fall.

Part of you had hoped that James would run after you. Grab you by the wrist and pull you into his arms, whispering that everything would be okay. But he didn't.

You looked back towards them once more. Lily had moved to take you chair beside James. She was brushing a strand of curls from his eyes the way you always used to.

The door fell shut behind you.

--

In the days following, you did your best to avoid James at all costs. He and Lily were practically attached at the hip and you couldn't bare to be around them anymore. He now stood as a reminder of everything you couldn't have and you knew your heart could no longer take it.

You didn't think he'd take much notice anyway. He had someone else to think about now.

You spent a lot of time crying. More time than you were happy to admit. Remus and Sirius had been good supports. Peter too, but he didn't really understand what was going on. Why your friendship group had suddenly been torn apart.

Instead of walking to classes with James, you'd get there early, taking a seat right up the front where you didn't have to look at him as he sat beside her, her hand gripped tightly in his larger one.

During lunch, you'd sit with Dorcas and Marlene. You'd laugh at their jokes and talk about mindless, unimportant topics and do your best to take your mind off him.

You no longer went with Remus to watch him and Sirius at Quidditch practice. He had someone else to cheer him on now, you were sure.

He wouldn't even miss you, you told yourself.

Little did you know, he did. He missed you so much it hurt. And no matter how many times he went over it in his mind, he still had no idea what he'd done wrong.

He'd tried to chase you down after class but you always left before he had the chance. He'd pleaded with Remus and Sirius to tell him what was going on, hoping his best friends had an insight into your mind but they told him they didn't know - even though he knew they did.

He saw you hanging out with other friends, looking lonely and lost and tired, but no matter what he did, he couldn't seem to fix it. You were avoiding him at every turn.

Everyone could see what it was doing to him - what it was doing to both of you. They could all tell that without each other, the two of you were just husks of your usual, vibrant selves.

Lily in particular could feel it. She saw her boyfriend wilting in your absence. And she felt powerless knowing she couldn't do anything to help.

--

You were sitting by the lake. There was a chill in the air. The icy wind whipped against your face but you didn't feel the cold.

In the distance you could see a storm brewing. Dark, rain clouds circled in the sky, reflecting off the crisp water of the Black Lake.

You came out here sometimes to think. Just to sit in the nature, away from the hustle and bustle of the castle. You didn't know how long you'd been there but it had been a while. You sat, by yourself, knees pressed against your chest, just observing.

"James told me I might find you here."

You looked up to see her.

She was standing in the grass beside you, her auburn hair flowing in the wind like she was a character in a movie. She was striking against the gloomy grey backdrop of the Scottish winter.

"He knows me well," you stated unemotionally, turning your gaze back to the water.

"Can I sit?"

"You can do whatever you like."

She hesitated for a moment, before taking a seat beside you. The air around you was frigid and cold and unwelcoming.

"What are you thinking about?"

She wasn't looking at you. She stared out at the lake and the sky and the mountains in the distance. As if the weight of her gaze was too invasive and privacy lingered in the lack of seeing.

"Nothing important," you told her. And it was true. He wasn't important anymore. Not now that he had her.

Silence hung heavy for a moment. A million unspoken words floated in the space between you.

"He misses you, you know?" her voice was soft and gentle, like she was scared to say the wrong thing and push you away.

"I don't see why he would."

"That's ridiculous. You're his best friend."

You sighed, turning to look at her finally. Her gaze was sad and pleading.

"Not anymore," the words fell from your lips like grains of sand in an hour glass. They trickled out quickly and easily and were swept away in the wind. "He hasn't had any time for me since he's been with you."

Lily didn't know what to say to that. Guilt was beginning to pool inside of her at the thought that she might have been the cause of all this chaos and discomfort.

"I'm sure he didn't mean to leave you behind."

"Yeah, but he did," your words were solemn and you couldn't stop the few tears that escaped as you said them. Like saying it aloud meant it became real. This really was the end for the two of you.

"He can fix it," Lily choked out, looking on the verge of tears herself. "He loves you."

You sighed, feeling drops of rain begin to fall on the top of your head.

"Not in the way I need him to."

With that, you stood and began to make your way back to the castle, away from Lily and away from these feelings that had been hanging over you for so long, like rainclouds threatening to burst and shower you in a downpour of emotion.

Your wiped your eyes as you walked. You were tired of feeling this. You were tired of being sad, of being jealous, of being in love.

Remus words rang like a bell inside your mind.

"He's just another boy."

That's so true, you thought to yourself.

[yourmessagehasbeendenied]

~LITTLE DEATH

tw; MDNI, nsfw content ahead, insecure!reader, chubby!reader, smut, masturbation, BTW IF YOU KNOW ME IRL NO YOU DONT SHUT UP

Were you living or just breathing? You couldn't decide anymore. It was fairly familiar to the older stories you read in books, except for one fact, - It didn't have a happy ending so far, no boyfriend or prince charming.

You considered giving up your life to be a nun, at that point. But you can't do that, cause you're not a virgin anymore. Though with the amount of experience you had? You could be considered one. People pretend they have happy lives for the sake of pretending, to keep up a facade, for some reason it's much more important than actually being happy. You weren't into that thing. You felt how you felt and always showed it, that was the good part about you. You've gotten the same thing your whole life. "No, you're.. A good friend, I just.. Wouldn't date you, in a million years." From all your friends. Until him, anyway. A strong military man as your neighbor? You bet your ass you were gonna drool over him. Who wouldn't? Those muscles, that mask you had a strange thing for, and the way he dressed, his silent nature, he was like the whole package! There was only one problem. You knew he would never go for you. Life was boring at all times. No boyfriend to keep you occupied, just a stupidly used vibrator and your hands. No sex, a dead-end job, minimum wage, and an apartment that wasn't exactly the best. Not that it was the worst, either, you couldn't exactly complain. You didn't see Simon around much, as much as you would've liked to. He had missions to go on, debriefs, he left for weeks, months. The only times you've ever seen him around was rare occasions, like holidays. But on a certain night, that changed. You were out at a bar, with your friends - figuring you could loosen up a bit. The clock hit midnight and figuring you wouldn't get laid anyway- you headed home.

And there he was, in the elevator, with you. But it was different this time around, you felt him looking at you. When you looked towards him, he looked straight into your eyes. Silence erupted the small elevator and it broke like glass being slammed on the floor when he spoke, "Your tits are half out in that. I wouldn't wear it again if I were you. I could practically rip them off of you with a finger." He said, and looked at you, still stared, like he said nothing to you.

And it flustered you. You haven't had sexual interactions with a man in years- how wouldn't it? You blushed, and tried to open your mouth but all that came out was a measly, "thanks" but what you were thanking him for? You had no fucking idea, and hoped he wouldn't ask. The elevator shortly after arrived and he went to his, and you went to your door. This was the first sexual sentence probably you've ever gotten from a man whom you actually find the most attractive, and it made you feel a certain way. So even if it wasn't with a man, you knew you'd have fun that night. All by yourself.

Or so you thought. ~~ Laying on his bed, watching the damn TV and trying to find at least one good show or movie to pass the time with, Simon was unsuccessful of finding anything worth his time, so he found the show he usually watched- Dr. House, re-watching for the 6th time this week.

Halfway through the episode, and he heard it. Faintly, more of a distant echo rather than something that's loud, but it caught his attention. It made him interested, it made him feel a certain type of way. Did he hear it right? Was he hallucinating things, too desperate? That's when he heard it again. Sweet. Honey-like, a fucking addiction that sound was, and in that moment he cursed the walls for being so paper-thin, where-as he could hear your moans. He felt like a fucking creep, listening and actually enjoying hearing the nice cute lady next door touch herself- but he couldn't help himself. He lowered the volume of the tv, only slightly so he could hear more - he figured if he could hear your moans, you could hear his TV. He didn't wanna make things suspicious - and he SURE as hell didn't want you to stop. He swallowed. He leaned up against the wall, and he felt pathetic for having his head back against it, listening to your moans, the vibration sound coming from your bedroom. And fuck, he hated it, he hated how turned on it made him- how aroused he was. He swore- he would just listen, there's no harm in that, right? But that idea was quickly ruined when you turned up the speed and moaned louder- figuring he couldn't hear or care- getting more confident. He started hating himself even more when he realized his cock was getting chubbed up just by the sound of your moans. Was he really gonna get hard over nothing? And especially over you? He can't help it. You sounded like a fucking pornstar, and that outfit you wore today just made everything worse. It made him feel so much worse, but he just couldn't stop his hands from reaching in, from reaching his boxers- and inside. He told himself- this isn't his fault, right? It's yours, yours and you should be punished, punished for reducing him to do this, for not making a move. But he was wondering, what the fuck were you imagining? But the thought made him angry- jealous, what if it isn't him? It made him feel strange. He brushed the thought off and listened to your moans, the rhythmic vibration- and he decided to match the pace. It felt more intimate, more deep- and it also made him feel like an absolute pervert, a dickhead, but it felt so good. He imagined you, your plump body, your tits, and how he would touch them. Hold you down, sit you on his lap in front of a mirror when he pounded inside you. Going faster. ~ Vibrations fastened up and your moans were louder than before, and as much as he started loving your moans more, he started hating himself more with each passing moment. Snapping out of it while touching himself- he swallowed and looked down at his body. "Fuck, what am I even doing? This is insane." He pulled his hands out of his pants, ready to button up- stop this madness because of his guilt. That's when the question in the back of his mind got answered- hearing it, faintly- but still his ears picked it up as the loudest sound. "Simon~" And all the guilt was suddenly forgotten when he practically gripped himself, he was sweating hard, blushing, did it suddenly get too hot in his room? Was it the air conditioning? He swore it was- he had to get it fixed. It definitely wasn't the fact he was touching himself to his sweet little neighbor who's the type to bring cookies and pretend everything is fine. He touched himself, to your rhythm again- to your moans. Imagining he was there with you- it made him feel less guilty knowing you did the same. Because fuck, he would love to be, he figured he'd just slam your door open in a few minutes to go over and fuck you himself- but he couldn't. He wasn't a creep after all, right? ..More like, not brave enough. Definitely a creep enough.

Your moans were heavenly for him. He couldn't hold it for too long anymore- he swore he almost came in his pants even when he heard you moan his name. He cursed under his breath, "Fuck, like a teenage boy," He whispered as he looked down at himself, entire body sweaty, red, hot. He should've stopped. He should stop. But he can't. "Simon, please take me. Please fuck me, please, please, make me yours, all yours-" God fucking damnit, was this a cruel joke on him? He swallowed. His hand worked faster than before and he was on his peak, when he tried to slow down- guilt creeping up again just slightly but not enough for him to care. He heard your moans, and he swallowed. Your begging. He wants to take you more than anything. He tried not coming in 5 seconds after that moan- and he was doing good, and that's when you fucked it up for him. You came. He heard you come- and he heard you scream practically. "Sir- y-yes, just like that! T-thank you sir!" You screamed like he was the one doing it to you, not the vibrator- and it fueled his god complex, his ego. He swallowed and that's when he hit. Head thrown back against the wall. He was breathing heavy, he was fucked up, sweaty, and his mouth fell open as he couldn't find an alternative fast enough to cover his own mouth, so he simply let it out. "Fuuuuuck baby, that's my good girl.." He came. It felt like death, like his mind was numb, like he was drowning. A little death - this was the hardest he's ever come. Silence, full on fucking silence- and for the first time he felt afraid. Did he fuck up? Did you hear him? Odds are you did, but if you didn't - he'll start thanking god on his knees. But even if you did, there was nothing he could do other than clean his own pants and the bed he made a mess on, and get ready for bed. He had a long night. And so did you. ~~ The next morning, you were in the elevator- coming home from buying groceries. Well, awkward, because he also was just doing the same and getting in. When he saw you go in he debated to just let the elevator pass and go on the stairs- but he realized that would just make it more awkward. So he swallowed and got in the elevator, holding his bag, while you held yours. He cleared his throat, staring at you up and down and looking away. This time you spoke, and it was like a knife cutting through the tension. "...So, rough night, huh?" He didn't even hesitate before he immediately without a second of breathing said, "For fucking sure."

A/N: yeah nah idk anymore, possible part 2 might be coming, also for my babies who dont know, just search up the meaning of little death, love yall

[f1daydreamer]

I Believe in You

---

You knew something was off the moment Kimi walked into your apartment.

He always tried to hide his emotions—stoic as ever, calm on the outside even when he was on fire inside. But you’d learned to read between the lines: the way he kicked his shoes off a little too fast, the quiet click of the door behind him instead of the usual slam, the way his bag landed on the floor with a heavy thud instead of being placed neatly on the hook.

You peeked up from the couch where you were curled under a blanket, your laptop softly humming beside you. "Hey," you said gently. "Long day?"

Kimi stood there for a moment, frozen like he didn’t know what to do with himself. And then, he nodded—barely. His blue eyes flicked to yours for a heartbeat, glassy with something he didn’t let out often.

"I signed," he finally said. His voice cracked in the middle.

You blinked. "Signed?"

He nodded again. "Mercedes. It’s official."

Your heart skipped a beat. "Wait—Kimi, are you serious?"

He gave you the tiniest smile, like it hurt him to do it, like the weight of the world was sitting on his chest. "Yeah. Toto called this morning. We signed. I’m in for next season."

You were on your feet in an instant, blanket forgotten on the floor. "Kimi! Oh my God!" you gasped, rushing over to him. "That’s amazing!"

But when you threw your arms around him, he didn’t hug you back right away. You pulled back a little to look up at him. That’s when you saw it—the tension in his jaw, the worry swimming in his eyes, his shoulders drawn up like he was waiting for someone to yell at him.

Your hands slid up to cup his face. "Hey. What’s going on? This is good news. Isn’t it?"

He exhaled, his voice small. "I should be happy. But all I feel is... pressure. Everyone’s expecting me to be the next Lewis or Michael or—God, even George. And I’m not. I’m just me."

You felt your heart shatter at the rawness in his voice.

"You’re not just anything, Kimi," you whispered.

He looked away, eyes glued to the floor. "What if I’m not ready? What if I mess it all up? What if I crash in my first race? What if—"

"Stop." You said it softly, but firmly, pulling him closer by the collar of his hoodie. "Kimi Antonelli, you are one of the most talented, hardworking, insanely driven people I have ever met. Mercedes didn’t choose you by accident. They see what I see. What everyone sees. You belong there."

He finally wrapped his arms around you, burying his face into your neck like he was a kid again, desperate to be held. You felt his body tremble slightly as he exhaled. Maybe relief. Maybe fear. Maybe both.

You ran your fingers through his dark curls, holding him tight.

"I’m scared," he admitted.

"I know," you said, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "But that doesn’t mean you’re not ready."

"You were the first person I wanted to tell," he mumbled into your shoulder. "Even before my parents. Before anyone."

That made your chest squeeze with something so soft and warm it almost hurt.

"You’re the first person I wanted to celebrate with. But also... the first person I needed to tell because I knew you’d understand if I wasn’t jumping up and down."

You pulled back just enough to cup his face again, brushing your thumbs under his eyes. "Of course I understand. You’ve been dreaming of this since you were a kid. It’s not just about driving anymore—it’s about pressure, and expectations, and cameras, and headlines. But Kimi, listen to me: none of that matters right now. What matters is you wanted this. You earned this. And you’re not alone."

His eyes softened, and for the first time since walking in, he looked like he could breathe again.

"You really think I can do it?"

"I know you can. Because I’ve seen you drive in the rain, in the chaos, in the worst conditions. I’ve seen you keep your head when everyone else loses theirs. And I’ve seen you come home after a bad race and still be kind. Still be good."

You took his hand and placed it over your heart. "You have this, Kimi. Right here. Every step of the way."

He pulled you into another hug—tighter this time, like he was holding onto an anchor.

You stayed like that for a long time, swaying a little in the quiet of your apartment. The soft hum of the radiator filled the silence, but it wasn’t awkward. It was the kind of silence that felt like home.

Finally, he pulled back and gave you a small, real smile. "You always know what to say."

"It’s part of the job description. Girlfriend, number one fan, and designated speech-giver."

He chuckled. "You forgot professional shoulder to cry on."

"And cuddler. And celebratory cake baker. Speaking of—" You perked up. "We need cake. This is huge, Kimi."

His smile grew, and he nodded. "Can it be chocolate?"

"For the future Mercedes driver? Anything."

You tugged him toward the kitchen, your hands still linked. But just before you reached the doorway, he stopped you.

"Wait."

You turned, surprised.

He looked at you like you were his whole world, his thumb gently tracing over the back of your hand.

"Thank you," he said quietly. "For being proud of me even when I’m not sure I deserve it."

You leaned in and kissed him softly. "You always deserve it."

And that night, you made cake together—badly, with flour in your hair and cocoa on his nose—and he laughed more than he had in weeks. And when you curled up in bed later, wrapped around each other in the dark, he whispered into your skin:

"I think I can do this."

And you whispered back, with all the love in the world:

"You can. And I’ll be here for all of it."

---

[magickizu]

So I was reading something in a fanfic about Conner kryptonian name and had to google it, to see if it's true and it is...

And now I can't stop imagining Superman shitting bricks of pure fear whenever he sees Danny, after said person finds out. Why? Let me set the scene and paint the picture:

Of course when Ellie told Damian and Jon about their actually half-dead status and her being a clone, Jon lets the fact slip that his big brother Connor is actually also a clone and Ellie is ecstatic and wants to meet him. Danny tags along, because he's curious too. And hey! Conner is really cool! A completely normal, good big brother until the topic of his name comes up.

Jon and Connor are piece by piece learning bits and pieces of Kryptonian culture from Clark, at the start only Jon, but now that Conner and Clark's relationship got better overtime he started teaching him too... Except he fell silent with a look of shame, now whenever Connor asked about the name Clark gave him. Danny asked about it, having learned kryptonian from Walker and his face fell when Conner said "Kon-El*" with this happy tone in his voice, that meant he truly head no idea. Before Connor knew it, Danny put his arms around him, held him tight and just whispered "...you have every right to be here, to live and breathe and exist. To be who you what to be. Please don't ever, ever let no one, anyone tell you otherwise, kid." Conner is confused but still so touched that Danny held such kind words for him, even if he doesn't know why.

Then Danny seeks out Clark, currently in the watchtower in full Superman gear. Danny's first words when he saw the hunk of a man was: "Kon-El*!?? Are you fucking kidding me or something!?!? What the fuck is wrong with you?!" There he stood: 5'7" black hair, blue eyes either a new protege of the bat since it's adoption material but the fact that he can speak Kryptonian makes Supes shiver slightly. At least he looks nothing like him, that's a plus- no wait, that's Jon's new friend's brother right? ...what is he doing in the watchtower!?

"H-how did you..?" He looked confused, Danny was sweet and kind, if mischievous young man. Then it dawned on Clark, he knew Kryptonian and his confusion turned to guilt. There's a reason he didn't like calling Connor by the name given by him anymore. "...so you-"

"Yes, I know and don't you dare, use that kicked puppy look on me when you know you fucked up, dogrhys*." Clark watched in growing disbelief at Danny crossing his arms. His stands unwavering. Slowly Clarks opinion changes and so does his temper, looking at at Danny in a mix of incredibility and slight offence.

"Okay. You little sister and my son are friends, yes but how did you get here and what gives you the right to insult me like this? Are you even Kryptonian?" Okay, yeah, maybe he was a bit to harsh, but Clark is working on himself! He's been thinking of giving Conner a new name or rework the meaning of his current one. Suddenly a light flashes Infront of him and Danny is glowering at him, clearly floating and and in a knew colour palette too; purple skin, pointy ears, white floaty hair, neon, kryptonite green glowing eyes that are a tad bit to wild for a human and a mouth that's forming a scowl with decidedly too many sharp teeth. A crown of fire floating over his head. Staring eye to eye on the same level now.

"Call me King Phantom of the infinite realms and I dare you... I said nothing, because it's your responsibility to right your wrongs, but be careful or I will make sure you regret your childish decisions Kal-El*." Clark froze up, the temperature in the room fell noticeably even for him as He growled dangerously. Uncomfortably slow, a shudder of terror made it's way down Clarks spine, as he griped the extend. It's phantom, as in :dokhahsh*. Then with a king of the infinite realms, which Constantine explained as the home dimension of ghosts, as in vrrosh :dokhahsh*. It seemed apparent what Danny- what that demon wanted, because he grined way too wide and toothy and sharp "...I see, then take care. Now." And with that he vanished, phased right through him and into a portal he opened just outside the tower in the middle of the vacuum of space.

That was the moment Clark's knees gave in and he fell to the floor... He should tell the others, that a literal demon king is housing in Gotham, but doing so would have to make him admit his cruel and childish mistake to the whole league and he can't, he just can't... Well... At least, Clark knows that for some reason he is kind and protective of the innocent. So it shouldn't be a problem, right?

Well, imagine his face when Batman calls in an important meeting to introduce someone who wants to ask the JL for help and to his absolute horror it turns out to be the devil in person.

_Glossary:_

Kon-El - Conner's Kryptonian name; in the old 52 Clark explained it was "the name of one his cousins", in the new 52 it was mentioned that it meant something like "Abomination of house El". Yes, exactly. That's why Danny snapped.

Dogrhys - as far as I understood, can be used as slur, kinda like "faulty asshole" or "fucked up in the head" I could be wrong though

Kal-El - Clark's Kryptonian name, meaning something like "Star Child", you probably know it already but just to be orderly.

:dokhahsh - Literally "Phantom". Also used to describe bad ghosts, demons, basically every evil spirit and overall just very negative connotation.

vrrosh :dokhahsh - "Phantom Zone, the dimension of ghosts". I am not kidding, you can look it up.

Basically, Danny introduced himself as "demon king of the bad afterlife" to Clark, who now has it out for him XD

Just thought it funny and wanted to share!

[honeydippedfiction]

Him & His Pretty Words {JB9}

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Synopsis: Sometimes trust and feelings are revealed when things go wrong, maybe being friends with benefits actually benefits Joe and Y/N for the better aside from the mind blowing sex.

Warnings: Suggestive/Spicy Scenes, SMUT (like very detailed), Strong Language, Alcohol Use, Mature Themes, Mild Public Attention, Mild Sexual Innuendo, Sensual Physical Closeness, & Implied Departure/Emotional Tension. MDNI🔞

Themes: Romantic Intimacy, Separation & Longing, Playful Banter & Teasing, & Comfort & Soft Domesticity

WC: 23.9k

A/N: whew... got a little spicy with this one

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• you DO NOT have my permission to copy my work, upload as your own, translate, or repost on any other website •

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Two months had passed since Y/N had cut off Joe from their arrangement. She'd been busy—finishing up her album, rehearsing for the release party, working on her music video, and just trying to move forward. But despite her best efforts, she couldn't shake the memories of what she'd shared with Joe. The laughter, the late-night talks, the chemistry that had been so undeniable… and the way he made her feel in ways no one else ever had.

She had kept herself busy, but at night, in the quiet of her thoughts, it all came rushing back. His touch, the way his lips felt on her neck, the warmth of his body pressed against hers, how he made her feel like the only woman in the world. That intense pull, that magnetic connection—there was no one else who did it quite like Joe. It was frustrating, and Y/N hated how much she missed it.

Tonight was supposed to be a celebration—her album release party. She was supposed to be happy, ready to move on, but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was missing. The party was going to be a huge deal, and she had a long list of people to thank and a list of celebrities and influencers to impress. But all she could think about was Joe.

As she stood in front of the mirror, making final adjustments to her outfit—a sleek black dress that hugged her curves just right—she couldn't help but picture Joe in her mind again. His effortless charm, the way he carried himself with confidence and swagger. And those blue eyes. God, those eyes. She could still feel them on her, that steady gaze that could make her knees weak.

Kayla was in the other room, likely already riling herself up over the fact that Y/N had extended invitations to both Tee and Ja'Marr. “You really invited them?” Kayla had asked with that disapproving tone she always got whenever Y/N did something she didn’t agree with. "Girl, you're gonna regret that."

But Y/N hadn’t been able to help herself. She had made her decision. As much as she wanted to be done with Joe, she couldn’t pretend like he hadn’t left a mark, in more ways than one. The more time passed, the more she realized it wasn’t just the sex that had her twisted—it was the way he made her feel alive. She didn’t want to admit it, but she missed that feeling. She missed him.

Kayla was right about one thing, though: she wasn’t about to play games with her own heart anymore. She had to focus on herself. She was on the verge of a new chapter—her album release was a huge milestone, and it was time to prove to herself and everyone else that she was stronger than any hold some good dick had, no matter how hard he had tried to break through her walls.

But that didn’t mean she couldn’t still miss the moments they shared.

She picked up her phone, staring at the message thread with Joe. The last thing she had sent him was a simple, final, cold text that had ended their interaction. He hadn’t replied. He’d given her the space she’d asked for.

But now, as she glanced at the screen, she found herself wondering if she'd made the right choice. If it was too late to even reach out.

Kayla knocked lightly on the doorframe, dragging Y/N’s attention away from her phone. “You good? You ready to slay tonight?”

Y/N glanced up at her friend, who was now wearing an outfit that screamed “I’m here for the drama.” Kayla had come to terms with her role as the ultimate hype woman, and tonight was no different.

“Yeah, just... thinking,” Y/N replied, setting the phone down and turning toward her friend with a sigh. “You think I did the right thing?”

Kayla’s expression softened, and she crossed the room to sit next to her on the bed. “I think you did what you needed to do,” she said, her voice firm but comforting. “He hurt you, Y/N. He lied. He didn’t deserve your heart. But that doesn’t mean you can’t take control now and move forward. You’ve got this.”

Y/N nodded, appreciating Kayla’s support. "I just miss him, you know? Not just the physical stuff... everything. The way he made me feel."

Kayla raised an eyebrow. “You sure it’s not just the sex?” she teased.

Y/N gave her a dry look. “Okay, that part too. But seriously, he was different. And I hate admitting it, but I miss him."

Kayla’s face softened in understanding. “I get it. But remember—he's not the only guy out there. You don’t need him to feel good about yourself. You’re on fire right now, and tonight, everyone will see it.”

Y/N smiled at her, feeling a little lighter. “Yeah, you’re right. I just wish it were easier.”

“I know,” Kayla replied, giving her a quick hug. “But we’ll handle it. You focus on being a superstar. Let everything else fall into place.”

Before Y/N could respond, her phone buzzed again, the familiar name flashing across the screen: Joe.

Her heart skipped in her chest, but she quickly silenced it before Kayla could see. She wasn’t ready for that conversation tonight. Not yet.

“Don’t you dare let him distract you tonight,” Kayla warned, reading her face like a book. “He can wait. This is your night.”

Y/N exhaled a shaky breath, trying to shake off the lingering thoughts of Joe. “You’re right. Tonight’s about me.”

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Hours later, the venue was packed, the energy electric. Y/N felt herself starting to settle into her own rhythm. She was on stage, mingling with friends and industry people, feeling the heat of the spotlight once again. She was finally back to herself—strong, confident, and ready to conquer whatever came her way.

But then, just as she was talking to one of her producers, her eyes caught a glimpse of a familiar face across the room.

Joe.

He was standing with Tee and Ja'Marr near the bar, and the moment their eyes met, something shifted in Y/N. Her heart hammered in her chest, and despite all the effort she’d put into moving on, she felt that old pull—the connection that had always been there.

He looked at her with a mix of something unreadable, his expression softening when their gazes locked. He didn’t approach her right away, almost as if waiting for her to make the first move.

Y/N stood frozen for a moment, caught between the urge to walk over to him and the reality that she wasn’t sure if she was ready for this. She had told herself she was done with him, but that damn pull was hard to ignore.

Then, from the corner of her eye, she saw Kayla heading straight for her with a scowl.

“Don’t you even think about it, Y/N,” Kayla warned under her breath as she reached her side. “He’s not worth it. Not tonight.”

Y/N glanced at Joe one more time, her heart a tangled mess of conflicting emotions. She had worked so hard to get to this point, but now, standing in the middle of her album release party, she wondered if that chapter with Joe was truly over... or if it was just beginning again.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The party was in full swing now, the kind of vibrant, electrifying atmosphere that only an album release could bring. The chatter of guests blended with the pulsing bass of the music, and the neon lights that dotted the venue created an almost surreal glow. Everyone was dressed to impress, but Y/N’s eyes kept drifting to the bar, where Joe was standing, effortlessly charming people, his tall frame unmistakable in the crowd.

Kayla had noticed the direction of Y/N's gaze, and she wasn’t having it. She slid in front of her, subtly blocking her view of Joe. "You’re not doing this tonight," she said, her tone sharp but full of care. “We talked about this, Y/N. We agreed. You focus on your career, not him. Stop thinking with your coochie.”

Y/N exhaled slowly, eyes flickering between Kayla and the man across the room. “I know. I’m fine,” she said, though her voice didn’t sound as confident as she tried to make it. She caught herself watching Joe again, his relaxed posture, that easy smile he always seemed to wear. He looked like he belonged, like he could slip into her life with no effort at all.

But Y/N couldn’t let that happen. Not now. Not after everything that had happened.

Kayla leaned in, her voice low but firm. “No. You are not going over there. I don’t care how tempting he looks, or how much he makes your knees weak and your coochie wet. You stay far away from him, and I’ll be right here, making sure you do.”

Y/N rolled her eyes, though she knew Kayla was right. “I’m not gonna go to him, Kayla. I’m not that stupid.”

Kayla’s eyebrows shot up. “I’m not so sure about that. You’d be surprised how quickly people forget about ‘boundaries’ when you throw a little chemistry in the mix.”

Before Y/N could respond, her phone buzzed in her pocket. She pulled it out, and the name Joe flashed across the screen. Her heart skipped a beat. She almost didn’t want to look at it, but Kayla was right there, eyes already on her. She didn’t even get a chance to swipe before Kayla snatched it out of her hands.

“Let me guess," Kayla said, tapping the screen and reading the message out loud. “‘Hey, I miss you.’” Kayla scoffed, shaking her head. “You’re gonna keep playing this game with him? After everything?”

Y/N felt a flare of frustration rise in her chest. “Kayla, I’m not a kid. I know what I’m doing.” But even as she said the words, she wasn’t entirely sure she believed them. There was something about Joe, something magnetic that made her feel like she couldn’t turn away.

“I don’t care how much you miss him,” Kayla said, handing the phone back. “You’re not getting caught up in this again. You owe it to yourself to not let him mess with your head.” Her tone softened. “Trust me. He’s not gonna change, Y/N. You can’t let him.”

Y/N bit her lip, glancing again toward the bar where Joe was laughing with some industry people, his body language relaxed, casual. It was so him. And in that moment, her resolve cracked just a little. She could feel the pull again, that ache in her chest.

“I’ll be fine,” Y/N said, though she wasn’t sure if she was convincing Kayla, herself, or anyone else. She turned her attention back to the crowd, but there was a part of her that couldn’t stop thinking about what Joe might say if he came over here. She didn’t know what she wanted from him, but part of her couldn’t help but feel like this unfinished business between them needed closure.

Suddenly, she felt the heat of someone’s gaze on her. Her skin tingled, a sensation she knew all too well. Slowly, she turned her head.

And there he was. Joe. Standing across the room, looking directly at her. His eyes locked with hers, and for a brief moment, the noise of the party seemed to fade into the background. It was like time slowed, and it was just the two of them in that room, the tension between them thick and undeniable.

Kayla didn’t miss it. She instantly stepped between them, putting herself between Y/N and Joe as if to shield her from whatever energy he was sending her way.

“No,” she said firmly, shaking her head as she caught Y/N’s eye. “You’re not doing this, remember?”

Y/N wanted to argue. She wanted to step forward and ask him what the hell he was doing here, why he was staring at her like that after everything, but something kept her glued to the spot. She wasn’t sure if it was fear or desire—or both—but all she could do was stare back at him, holding his gaze, trying to figure out what the hell he was thinking.

Joe didn’t move. He just stood there, watching her. No words, no gestures. Just that quiet, intense gaze.

“I’m gonna go get a drink,” Kayla muttered, giving Y/N a stern look before turning to walk off toward the bar, but not before giving Joe a glare that could’ve burned through the walls. “You better not make any moves towards Joe.”

The moment Kayla disappeared into the crowd, Joe finally moved. Slowly, deliberately, his steps seemed to carry the weight of the tension in the room. Y/N’s heart was pounding now, her pulse quickening, but she forced herself to stand tall, to not let him rattle her.

He was getting closer.

When he finally stood before her, the crowd seemed to move around them like they were in their own bubble. She could feel the heat of his presence, the magnetic pull that had always been there. But there was something else—something dangerous in the way he was looking at her.

She could smell him before he even spoke, the familiar, intoxicating scent of his cologne filling her senses. It took everything in her not to close her eyes and inhale deeper, her pulse racing as she tried to stay composed. Why did he always do this to her?

“You look... incredible,” Joe’s voice rumbled low, sending an unexpected heat through her. She hated how effortlessly he could make her knees weak, but she refused to let him see that effect.

Her chin lifted slightly, trying to mask the way her body was reacting to him. She was angry, confused, and a whole mess of emotions, but she wasn’t about to let him know that.

“Really? Is that what you’ve got now?” Y/N sassed back, raising an eyebrow. “Compliments? Thought you had more substance than that.”

Joe’s lips curled into a knowing smile, but he didn’t answer right away. His gaze swept over her with that same intensity, lingering just a bit too long, making her skin prickle under the weight of it.

“Don’t play coy, Y/N. You know what you do to me,” he said quietly, his voice thick with that same desire she could feel vibrating in her chest. “You always have.”

Y/N held her ground, but internally, she was struggling to breathe normally. His words had a way of sinking into her skin like fire, and despite everything that had gone wrong, she couldn’t shake the pull between them. The way he made her feel—alive, electrified, desired. It was like he was calling out to a side of her she couldn’t control.

“I don’t know what you think you’re playing at, Joe,” she replied, forcing the words past her lips, though her heart was hammering in her chest. “But this… this? It’s not gonna happen again. You made your bed, now lie in it.” She shot him a look, daring him to challenge her.

But Joe didn’t back down. Instead, he took a step closer, closing the gap between them. She could feel the heat of his body now, could hear the slight change in his breathing, and it made her all too aware of how much she wanted him, even after everything.

His voice softened, like he was trying to draw her in again. “You can’t tell me you don’t feel it, Y/N. The way you look at me, the way we... are when we’re together. Don’t pretend you don’t miss that.”

She felt her resolve starting to waver, and she quickly shook her head, forcing herself to take a step back. Focus, Y/N. Focus. This wasn’t what she needed right now. She wasn’t about to let him worm his way back into her life like this.

Just as Joe took another step forward, Kayla appeared out of nowhere, her protective instincts kicking in immediately. She didn’t say a word—she just slid between Joe and Y/N, effectively cutting him off.

“Not today, buddy,” Kayla snapped, glaring up at Joe. “You’ve done enough damage. I suggest you run off before I make you.”

Joe opened his mouth, clearly about to say something, but Kayla was having none of it. She grabbed Y/N’s hand, pulling her away from Joe with a firm tug.

Y/N barely had a chance to look back at Joe, who was watching them leave, that unreadable expression still firmly in place. She didn’t know whether it was anger or frustration, but she wasn’t interested in figuring it out.

Kayla didn’t say a word as they moved further into the crowd, but the tension in the air was thick. Y/N could feel it—the same pull, the same desire for Joe that had been lingering in her chest since the moment they first crossed paths. But she couldn’t let herself fall into it again. Not after everything that had happened. Not after he had chosen to play games with her heart.

Once they were far enough away from Joe, Kayla let out a breath she’d clearly been holding. “I swear, that man’s got some nerve. Don’t let him drag you back in, Y/N. You’ve got too much going for you now to let him mess with your head again.”

Y/N didn’t answer right away, still processing everything. She hated how Joe could make her feel so alive, but she wasn’t going to let him take control of her emotions again. Not after what Michelle had done. Not after everything she had been through. She wasn’t some distraction for him to play with.

“I’m fine, Kayla,” Y/N said quietly, though the words didn’t fully convince her. But she would make it through this. She had to. She had a future to focus on, a career she was building, and a part of her was determined to not let Joe be a part of it.

Kayla eyed her carefully before nodding, but there was something unreadable in her gaze. She knew how much Y/N was struggling with this. But at the end of the day, Kayla wasn’t going to let Y/N forget who she was. And she wasn’t going to let Joe take advantage of her heart again.

They walked back to the party, but this time, Y/N was more determined than ever to keep her focus where it belonged: on herself and her future. Even if Joe was standing somewhere in the background, watching her with those damn, intense eyes of his.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The music was still thumping in the background, and the party had only intensified since Kayla pulled her away from Joe. The energy in the room was charged, everyone enjoying themselves, but all Y/N could feel was a growing tension, suffocating her. She could barely breathe with the weight of Joe’s presence still lingering, even though he hadn’t been near her for what felt like hours.

Kayla, ever the vigilant guard dog, was right by her side, always keeping an eye on her. But that only made Y/N more anxious. She needed air. She needed space.

She slipped out of the house, into the cool night air, her heels clicking against the pavement as she walked briskly away from the house. The stars overhead did little to calm her nerves, and the bustling noise of the party seemed miles away.

Just a few minutes of peace, she told herself. No more thinking about him. No more wondering what he’s going to do next.

The night had stretched on, and the party inside the mansion was reaching its peak, but all Y/N could feel was the suffocating tension. The music, the laughter, the chatter—it all blurred into the background as she walked toward the garden area outside, desperate for space, for air.

Kayla had been hovering, like a protective hawk, ever watchful for any more interactions between Y/N and Joe. Y/N had felt it—Kayla’s subtle glances, the way she kept nudging her away from the path that led to the man who had stirred something she wasn’t ready to confront. Y/N couldn’t blame Kayla. She was being a good friend, but Y/N felt like she was losing herself in the midst of it all.

Once outside, Y/N let out a long breath, the cool night air brushing against her skin, trying to calm the burning inside her. She stared up at the stars for a few moments, feeling the weight of the day settle on her shoulders. Why is this still happening? she thought, her mind whirling with emotions, unanswered questions, and him.

And then, of course, there was the sound of footsteps approaching.

She didn’t have to turn around to know who it was. That signature scent hit her before anything else—the familiar musk of his cologne, mixed with the warmth of his presence. Her body tensed before she even turned around. She had known it was coming. Of course, Joe would find her. He always did.

Her heart thudded painfully in her chest as she slowly turned to face him.

“Y/N,” Joe’s voice broke the silence. It was low, almost hesitant, as if he wasn’t sure if she’d walk away again. He stood there, several feet away, his eyes dark and stormy, those damn blue eyes filled with an apology that didn’t quite reach the rest of him.

She took a step back, her gaze cold. "I don’t have anything to say to you, Joe."

Her voice was steady, but beneath it, a layer of something unspoken—a vulnerability she had been hiding even from herself. She didn't know if it was anger, hurt, or the remnants of that intoxicating pull she’d felt every time they’d been close. It made her tense, and it made her want to run.

Joe’s expression faltered for a second, then he took a deep breath and took a step closer, but not too close. He kept the distance between them, almost as if he was waiting for her to stop him, to demand that he leave. But she didn’t.

“Y/N, please,” he said, his voice desperate but calm, the urgency threading through his words. “Just let me talk, and after that, I swear I’ll leave you alone. I just—I just need you to understand what happened.”

She rolled her eyes, already feeling the frustration rising again. “You don’t get it, Joe,” she muttered, turning slightly to look away, her arms crossed. “I don’t care what you think I need to understand. I’m done with all of this.”

But Joe wasn’t backing down. He stepped forward again, his eyes never leaving hers, and this time, his voice softened, almost pleading. “Please, Y/N. I need you to know the truth. It’s not what you think, and I swear to God, if you just let me explain—”

She stood there, frozen for a moment, caught in his intensity. Her chest tightened as her mind screamed at her to leave, to walk away, but her feet wouldn’t move. It wasn’t just him—it was her too.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, Y/N sighed, her shoulders slumping in resignation. “Fine,” she said, not meeting his gaze. “Talk. But after this, it’s over.”

Joe exhaled a breath as if he had been holding it for too long. He pulled his phone from his pocket and unlocked it, tapping on the screen before turning it to face her. He didn’t say a word at first, just let her look at it.

The first video that played was from inside Joe’s living room. It was a clear shot of Michelle, who looked upset as she packed her things. The scene was raw, the air thick with tension. Joe was sitting across from her, his face hard but calm as he spoke to her.

“You need to leave,” Joe’s voice came through the speaker. “This isn’t working. It’s over.”

Michelle’s face twisted, her lips curling into a sneer. “So, you’re just throwing me out like garbage now, huh? Just like that?”

Joe’s expression faltered for a second, a flash of guilt crossing his face, but he maintained his ground. “It’s over, Michelle. I’m done.”

Y/N’s stomach churned. She had no idea that it had been this bad between them. She had no idea that Joe had actually ended it with her, let alone the intensity of that conversation.

The next clip was of Michelle in a more heated moment, speaking directly to the camera. “I’ll make sure she knows who Joe really belongs to. This isn’t over.”

Y/N felt her anger rising again, but there was something else now—a sting of betrayal.

Joe’s hand tightened around his phone as he looked at her, watching her reaction carefully. He seemed almost apologetic, but his voice was steady when he spoke. “Michelle… she’s crazy, Y/N. She manipulated me. She took my phone, and when you texted me, she called you pretending to be me, pretending that we were still together. I didn’t know what she was doing until it was too late.”

Y/N stared at the phone, her mind trying to process the information, the images, the sounds. But all she felt now was the weight of everything that had happened—and how much time she’d wasted letting it go on. She’d trusted him. She’d let herself fall into it. She’d ignored the signs, and for what?

She lifted her eyes from the phone and met his gaze. The emotions swirling in Joe’s blue eyes were almost too much for her to bear—guilt, desperation, and something else. Something raw.

But all of that faded as something else took over. The ache, the desire, the undeniable pull that had always been there.

Without thinking, without worrying about the consequences, Y/N leaned forward and kissed him.

The kiss was urgent, messy with a mix of emotions. It was a collision of frustration, longing, and a desperate need to feel something, anything but the confusion that had been clawing at her insides for too long. She felt the weight of Joe’s hand on her back, pulling her closer, as if the kiss alone could fix everything.

When they finally broke apart, her breath was ragged, her pulse racing. Her fingers were still tingling from where they had touched his skin. She couldn’t quite look at him, her eyes darting away.

“I—” she started to speak, but her voice caught in her throat. What was there left to say?

Joe’s arm slid around her waist again, pulling her back to him. Their eyes met, the air crackling with unspoken words and unresolved tension. There was no turning back now, not from this, not from what was happening between them.

He kissed her again, more urgently this time, as if trying to say everything they couldn’t put into words. The kiss was a storm of pent-up emotion, frustration, and desire. It was the culmination of everything that had been simmering beneath the surface, finally breaking free. She arched against him, every touch igniting a fire that threatened to consume them both.

Joe’s hands were everywhere, exploring, claiming, as if he was trying to make up for all the time they had lost. She gasped as his mouth traced a path down her neck, his teeth grazing her skin. It was too much and not enough, a chaotic blend of pleasure and need.

Her hands tangled in his hair, pulling him closer, refusing to let go. He groaned against her lips, his hands roaming her body, desperate to touch every inch of her. She felt his fingers trace the line of her spine, sending shivers down her back.

As they kissed, the world around them melted away. Nothing else mattered but the heat between them, the way their bodies fit together like puzzle pieces. His lips were hungry against hers, and she met that hunger with equal fervor, nipping at his bottom lip, tasting the salt of his skin.

When they finally pulled apart for air, their breathing was ragged, and Y/N's lips were swollen and sensitive. She looked up at Joe, her eyes heavy with lust, and he gazed down at her with the same intensity.

“Not out here,” she whispered, her voice husky with desire.

Joe nodded, his eyes never leaving hers. He took her hand, intertwining their fingers, and led her towards his car. But before they could get in, he pulled her close again, his lips crashing against hers in another passionate kiss.

His hands slid down her body, one coming to rest on her hip while the other slipped under the hem of her dress, tracing the sensitive skin of her inner thigh. She gasped against his lips as his fingers inched higher, his touch igniting a fire within her.

She was already wet for him, and when his fingers brushed against her panties, he groaned, the sound vibrating against her lips. “Fuck, Y/N,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “You’re so wet for me already.”

She whimpered in response, her body trembling with need. He deepened the kiss, his tongue sliding against hers as his fingers continued their exploration. She felt him push her panties to the side, his fingers sliding through her slick folds, teasing her clit before sliding lower.

“Joe,” she moaned, her hands gripping his shoulders as he teased her entrance. She could feel how wet she was, how ready she was for him.

“God, I need you baby,” he growled against her lips. “I want to be inside you, to feel you come around my cock.” His words sent a jolt of electricity through her, and she nodded eagerly, unable to form words.

He pulled back slightly, his eyes blazing with desire as he looked at her. “Get in the car,” he commanded, his voice low and husky. She nodded, her legs trembling as she moved to open the door. 

The SUV was spacious, with ample room in the back for them to maneuver. The perfect amount of space for Joe to worship her.. Y/N climbed in first, laying down on her back and propping herself up on her forearms, her legs dangling out of the car. Joe stood outside, watching her with hungry eyes, his chest rising and falling with rapid breaths.

“What’re you doing?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper. She felt exposed, laid out before him like this, but the thrill of it only added to her arousal.

He didn’t answer immediately, his eyes tracing every curve of her body, from her swollen lips to her heaving chest, down to where her dress was bunched up around her hips. She could see the desire burning in his gaze, the way his hands twitched at his sides as if he was fighting the urge to touch her.

“I’m going to take my time with you, Y/N,” he finally said, his voice low and gravelly. “I’m going to show you how a woman like you deserves to be treated.”

He climbed into the car then, kneeling between her legs as he shut the door behind him. The click of the door closing seemed to echo in the silence, and suddenly the space felt smaller, more intimate. She could smell the faint scent of his cologne, mixed with the musk of his arousal, and it made her head spin.

He leaned over her, bracing himself with one hand on the seat as the other trailed up her leg, pushing her dress higher. His touch was electric, sending sparks of pleasure through her body. When he reached the apex of her thighs, he hooked his fingers into the waistband of her panties and slowly, torturously, began to pull them down.

“Lift your hips,” he murmured, and she obeyed, her heart pounding in her chest. As he slid her panties off, he pressed a soft kiss to her ankle, then her calf, then the inside of her knee, each touch sending shivers through her body.

When her panties were finally off, he tossed them aside and spread her legs wider, his eyes fixed on her wet, glistening pussy. “God, you’re beautiful,” he breathed, his voice full of reverence. “So fucking perfect.”

She felt a blush creep up her cheeks at his words, but it quickly turned into a gasp as he lowered his head and pressed a kiss to her inner thigh. His stubble tickled her skin, and she could feel the warmth of his breath as he inched closer to where she wanted him most.

He teased her for what felt like an eternity, kissing and licking every inch of her thighs, her hips, her lower stomach, but never quite touching her where she needed it most. She squirmed beneath him, her hands fisting in the seats as she tried to control her breathing.

“Joe, please,” she begged, her voice trembling with need. She felt his smile against her skin before he finally, finally, gave her what she wanted. His tongue traced a path from her entrance to her clit, and she arched off the seat, a moan tearing from her throat.

He groaned in response, the vibration of it sending shockwaves of pleasure through her. “You taste so good,” he murmured against her sensitive flesh. “Like heaven.”

He licked and sucked at her clit, his tongue working magic on her body. She felt like she was melting, her thoughts scattered and incoherent as he brought her closer and closer to the edge. When he slid one finger inside her, curling it just right to hit that perfect spot, she cried out, her back arching off the seat.

He added another finger, pumping them in and out as he continued to lavish attention on her clit with his tongue.

God, she had missed this — missed the way he knew how to play her body like an instrument, bringing her to heights of pleasure she hadn’t known were possible. But this time was different. There was a desperation to his touch, a hunger that went beyond physical desire. He couldn’t get enough of her, of her taste, her sounds, the way her body responded to him as if it was made for his touch.

As he worked her higher and higher, she could feel his groans vibrating against her sensitive flesh, sending waves of pleasure through her body. She looked down, meeting his heated gaze, and the intensity of his desire for her was almost overwhelming.

“Joe…” she breathed, her fingers tangling in his hair as she tried to pull him closer. She needed more, needed everything he could give her.

He moaned against her clit, the sensation sending a jolt through her body. His eyes met hers, the blue of his irises almost completely swallowed by his blown pupils. She could feel his fingers moving faster inside her, his tongue swirling around her clit with perfect pressure and rhythm.

His eyes rolled back as he felt the way her thighs trembled, trying to close around his head as she got closer to her orgasm. He could stay there forever, buried between her legs, her juices coating his tongue. He was addicted to her taste, to the way her breath hitched when he found the perfect spot.

When she was close, so close he could feel it in the way her muscles tensed, he suddenly pulled back, leaving her gasping and whimpering at the loss of contact. “Joe!” she cried, her hands reaching for him, but he was already moving, his body covering hers as he kissed her deeply, letting her taste herself on his tongue.

She writhed beneath him, her hips bucking against his, seeking friction, seeking release. He could feel how wet she was through his pants, and it took every ounce of his control not to rip his clothes off and bury himself inside her right then.

“Not yet, baby,” he murmured against her lips. “God I can’t get enough of you. I’m going make you forget any doubts you had about us.” His words were a dark promise, filled with the desperation of a man starved for her.

Y/N moaned at his words, her body aching with need. “Please, Joe. I need you.”

He kissed her again, hard and demanding, before pulling back and flipping them over. Now she was straddling him, her dress still bunched up around her waist, her wet pussy pressed against his cock through his pants.

He helped her sit up, her thighs trembling on either side of him, and then maneuvered himself so that he was lying down with his head between her thighs. She gasped as he gripped her hips, pulling her down onto his waiting mouth.

“Come claim your throne, baby,” he said, his voice muffled against her pussy. And then he was feasting on her again, his tongue and lips working her with renewed fervor.

She cried out, her hands braced on the ceiling of the car and the window as she ground against his mouth. He was relentless, his tongue swirling around her clit before dipping lower to spear her entrance. She could feel herself getting closer and closer, her muscles coiling tighter and tighter.

Joe shook his head from side to side, a deep, guttural moan escaping him as Y/N began grinding her pussy against his face. The sweet scent of her arousal was intoxicating, making him dizzy with want. “Yeah, that’s it, baby. Take what you need.” He murmured the words against her inner thigh before diving back in.

He was determined to make her feel everything, to erase every doubt and every moment of pain she’d endured. His arms wrapped around her thighs, holding her in place as he devoured her, his tongue working her clit in perfect, relentless circles.

“Fuck, Joe, I—” Her words were lost in a breathy moan as the pleasure turned molten, her toes curling as her body shook with the force of her orgasm. The windows fogged around them, the only sound was her gasps and the wet sounds of Joe’s mouth on her pussy.

He continued to lap at her, drawing out her pleasure, his nose brushing against her overstimulated clit as he thrust his tongue into her entrance. He groaned at her taste, at the way her walls fluttered around his tongue, wishing it was his cock she was clenching around. But he wanted this moment, this memory, of her coming undone on his mouth, her essence coating his chin and staining his shirt. It was a mark of his devotion, a promise of the pleasure he would continue to give her as long as she let him.

When her tremors finally subsided, he gently lowered her to the seat, coming up to capture her lips in a searing kiss. She tasted herself on his tongue, the flavor mingling with the unique taste that was Joe. As they kissed, Joe’s fingers found the zipper of her dress, pulling it down slowly. The sound seemed loud in the enclosed space, but neither of them cared about anything but the feel of each other’s bodies. He helped her shimmy out of the dress, tossing it carelessly into the front seat.

His hands roamed her body, not just exploring, but memorizing every dip and curve, every stretch mark and so-called imperfection. He wanted to know every inch of her, to worship her as the goddess she was.

Y/N felt like her body was a live wire, every touch sending sparks of desire through her veins. She needed him, needed to feel him inside her, filling her completely. She tugged at his shirt, wanting it off, wanting nothing between them. In her impatience, she grabbed the top of his dress shirt, ripping it open, buttons scattering around them like tiny projectiles.

He chuckled against her lips, the sound reverberating through her chest. “Eager, aren’t we?” he teased, but there was no judgment in his tone, only amusement and shared desire. She responded by nipping at his lower lip, her hands pushing his ruined shirt off his shoulders.

The air around them felt electric, charged with the intensity of their need for each other. Joe trailed kisses down her neck, his teeth grazing her collarbone before moving lower. He took one nipple into his mouth, sucking gently before moving to the other, his hand rolling the wet peak between his fingers.

Y/N arched above him, her fingers threading through his hair as she guided his mouth where she wanted it. She felt him smile against her skin before biting down gently on her nipple, sending a jolt of pleasure-pain through her body. “Joe,” she breathed, her voice a mixture of a plea and a demand.

He released her breast with a soft ‘pop,’ looking up at her through his lashes from where she was straddling his lap. “Yeah, honey?” he asked, his voice a deep rumble that seemed to vibrate through her entire body. His hands continued their teasing exploration, moving from the globes of her ass up to her hips, then back down again, each touch leaving a trail of fire on her skin.

Y/N couldn’t take it anymore. His voice, his touch, the way he looked completely wrecked beneath her—all of it was too much. She could feel his cock throbbing through his slacks where she was grinding against him, and it wasn’t enough. Not nearly enough.

With a strength borne of desperation, she slid one hand up the back of his neck until her fingers tangled in his curls. She tugged, not gently, pulling his head back until he was looking up at her, his neck arched, exposed. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, his pupils dilating at the flash of dominance in her eyes.

Her lips brushed his neck, then his ear, as she whispered, “If you don’t take these pants off right now, I swear to God I will get out of this car, go find Ja’Marr, and have him finish what you started.”

Something flashed in Joe’s eyes then, a mixture of surprise and a darker, more primal desire. His hand, which had been teasing her hip, came down hard on her ass, the sharp crack of the slap filling the SUV. Y/N gasped, her head falling back as the sting bloomed into heat that pooled low in her belly.

Before she could recover, Joe’s other hand wrapped around her throat, not squeezing, just holding her in place. He used his grip to pull her back down so they were nose to nose, his breath mingling with hers.

“If you wanted me to ruin you, all you had to do was ask,” he growled, his lips a breath away from hers. “Not act like a fucking brat.” His words were punctuated with another slap to her other cheek, the heat from both sides melding together in a delicious blend of pleasure and pain.

Y/N’s response was lost as Joe crashed his lips to hers, his hand still wrapped loosely around her throat. The kiss was fierce, possessive, a battle of wills and tongues as they both fought for control, for dominance. It wasn’t rough, not exactly, but there was an edge to it, a desperation that bordered on violence. She bit his lip hard enough to taste blood, and he responded by squeezing her throat just enough to make her head spin.

When they finally broke apart, both breathing heavily, Y/N reached between them, her fingers finding the buckle of his belt. She made quick work of it, pulling it through the loops with a swift movement that left Joe hissing as the leather bit into his hips.

“Off,” she demanded, tugging at the waistband of his pants. “Now.”

There was something in her voice, a thread of steel that left no room for argument. Joe, for all his bravado, all his teasing, obeyed. He lifted his hips, helping her pull his pants and boxers down in one swift move. His cock sprang free, thick and hard, a bead of pre-cum glistening at the tip.

Y/N wrapped her fingers around him, her touch firm but her skin soft against the heated silk of his arousal. She stroked him slowly, base to tip, twisting her wrist just under the head the way she knew he liked. Joe’s head fell back, a guttural groan escaping him.

“Y/N,” he breathed, his hips canting into her touch. “If you keep that up, this will be over before it starts.”

She smiled then, a smirk that spoke of power and satisfaction. “That’s the idea,” she murmured, squeezing him tighter before releasing him.

Confusion flitted across Joe’s face for a moment before Y/N was moving, shifting her body until she was kneeling between his legs. His confusion turned to shock, then raw hunger as she leaned forward, her breath ghosting over his cock.

“Y/N, you don’t have to, this is supposed to be about—” he started to say, but his words died in his throat as she took him into her mouth.

Her tongue swirled around the head of his cock, tasting the salt of his pre-cum before she took him deeper, her lips stretching around his girth. Joe’s hands flew to her hair, not to direct her, but to anchor himself as his world tilted on its axis.

“Fuck,” he hissed, his hips jerking involuntarily as she took him to the back of her throat. She relaxed her jaw, letting him slide deeper, her nose brushing against his pubic bone. Then she swallowed around him, and Joe thought he might lose his mind.

She bobbed her head, taking him deep with each stroke, her tongue pressed against the underside of his shaft. Her hands moved to his thighs, her fingernails digging into his skin as she held him in place, not allowing him to buck or thrust.

Joe was helpless, reduced to a creature of pure sensation as Y/N worked his cock with her mouth. He felt her moan around him, the vibrations sending shockwaves through his body. He was getting close, too close, and as much as he wanted to let go, to spill himself down her throat, he wanted inside her more.

With a Herculean effort, he tugged at her hair, pulling her off him slowly. She came reluctantly, her lips releasing him with a wet ‘pop’ as she looked up at him, her eyes glazed with lust, her mouth slick, red and swollen. Joe swore the sight alone could kill him.

“Fuck. Come here,” he growled, pulling her up until she was straddling him again. He claimed her mouth in a fierce kiss, tasting himself on her tongue, the flavor mixing with the unique sweetness that was Y/N. His hands gripped her hips, lifting her slightly before lowering her onto his cock.

She was so wet, so ready for him, that he slid inside her with one smooth thrust, burying himself to the hilt. They both groaned at the feeling, the perfect stretch of her around him, the tight, wet heat that enveloped him like a glove.

“Joe,” Y/N breathed, her forehead resting against his as she adjusted to the feel of him inside her. “God, you feel so good.”

He didn’t respond, couldn’t respond, as he was too busy trying to maintain what was left of his control. She was tight around him, her pussy fluttering as she lifted herself up before sliding back down, her pace slow and torturous.

Joe’s hands moved to her hips, guiding her, urging her to go faster, but she resisted. She set the pace, rising up until just the tip of him was inside her before sliding back down in an excruciatingly slow glide.

“Y/N,” Joe grated out, his fingers digging into her hips. “Baby, please.”

She leaned forward then, her lips brushing his ear as she whispered, “What’s the matter, Joe? Not used to a woman taking what she wants? Claiming you?”

Her words, combined with the tight, slick heat of her pussy and the way her teeth grazed his earlobe, sent Joe over the edge. With a growl, he gripped her hips tight enough to bruise and slammed her down onto his cock, setting a brutal pace as he fucked up into her.

Y/N cried out, losing her rhythm as Joe took control. He pounded into her, each thrust hitting deep, pushing her higher and higher. She wrapped her arms around his neck, holding on as he ravaged her, the SUV rocking with the force of his thrusts.

“Yes, Joe, yes!” she cried, her voice high and breathy. “Just like that. Don’t stop.”

He couldn’t stop if he wanted to. He was driven by a primal need to claim her, to mark her as his, to make her forget any other man that had come before him.

When he felt her walls start to flutter around him, signaling her impending orgasm, he reached between them, his thumb finding her clit. He pressed down, rubbing tight, quick circles that matched the rhythm of his thrusts.

“Come for me, Y/N,” he demanded, his voice harsh with his own desperate need for release. “Let me feel you come on my cock.”

His words, combined with the relentless pressure on her clit and the unyielding pace of his thrusts, sent Y/N tumbling over the edge. She came with a scream, her back arching, her pussy clenching around him so tight he saw stars.

Joe managed a few more thrusts, prolonging her pleasure as her orgasms wracked her body, before he was following her over, emptying himself inside her with a deep, guttural groan. He filled her, painting her walls with his cum as his hips jerked involuntarily, drawing out their mutual pleasure.

They stayed like that for a long moment, bodies intertwined, breaths mingling, as they both came down from their highs. Slowly, carefully, Joe lowered them down until Y/N was lying on top of him, her head resting on his chest, right over his thundering heart.

He wrapped his arms around her, one hand stroking her hair as the other traced soothing patterns on her back. They didn’t speak, didn’t need to. The air around them was filled with the scent of their passion, the taste of each other still lingering on their lips.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Outside, the city buzzed with life and the album party continued rocking the building, but in that moment, in the warm cocoon of the SUV, nothing else mattered. They were lost in each other, found in each other, and that was all there was.

Y/N's head rested against Joe’s bare chest, his skin still flushed from their desperate reunion. His fingers continued drawing lazy shapes on her spine, grounding them both in the silence, until he finally broke it.

“I’m sorry,” Joe said quietly, his voice low and rough, laced with something between guilt and longing. “For not telling you about Michelle sooner. For not catching what she did fast enough. I should’ve—”

Y/N shook her head against him and pressed her fingers gently to his lips, silencing the apology before it could stretch into something heavier.

“No,” she whispered, her voice soft but sure. “I’m sorry too. I jumped to conclusions. I let my pride—and my hurt—take over before giving you a real chance to explain. I told myself I didn’t care, that this was casual, but…” She paused, eyes searching his. “I think I cared more than I ever admitted.”

Joe let out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding, forehead dropping gently to hers. “I didn’t expect you,” he admitted. “Didn’t expect this. I was good at keeping things simple. Controlled. But you came in and flipped all that upside down. In the best and worst way.”

She smiled faintly, their noses brushing. “You mean chaotic and inconvenient?”

Joe chuckled. “That too.”

Their smiles lingered, tender and tired, the kind of softness that only came after stormy nights and emotional trenches. Y/N curled closer, arms looping around his waist. “I still don’t know what this is… or what it’s going to be,” she said honestly. “But I’m tired of pretending like it didn’t mean something.”

Joe tilted her chin so she’d look up at him, blue eyes blazing with sincerity. “Then don’t pretend,” he said. “We figure it out. Whatever this is, whatever it becomes—we do it real. No secrets. No pretending.”

She nodded, lips barely brushing his again. “Okay… real.”

And just like that, the heaviness cracked open, letting something warm and new settle in. The SUV continued to sit in the parking lot outside, lights flashing by in a blur from the party in the venue, but inside—held in each other’s arms, vulnerable and seen—they weren’t running anymore.

Their lips met again, slower this time—soft, reverent, like they were sealing a pact neither had fully spoken aloud. Joe’s hand slipped into her curls, gently cradling the back of her head while Y/N leaned into him, the weight of everything that had happened easing into something warmer, something dangerously close to tender.

His other hand rested just beneath her ribs, his touch feather-light and full of promise, drawing a soft sigh from her. The kiss deepened for a heartbeat longer, charged and intimate, both of them teetering on the edge of something they’d already fallen into too many times before.

And then—

BANG. BANG. BANG.

The SUV rocked slightly from the force of the banging on the tinted window.

“Y/N! Open this damn door right now before I call your mama!” Kayla’s voice rang out, high and exasperated. “I KNOW you’re in there, and I KNOW you’re doing exactly what you said you weren’t gonna do!”

Y/N froze mid-kiss, forehead dropping to Joe’s chest with a dramatic groan. “I swear this girl has a sixth sense for my bad decisions.”

Joe chuckled, clearly amused. “That’s definitely a best friend ready to throw hands.”

Another bang hit the window. “And you, Joe Burrow! I know you hear me too! I will take my heel off and swing it like a boomerang!”

Y/N burst into quiet laughter against his collarbone. “Okay, okay,” she muttered, pulling herself together and sitting up slightly, still catching her breath. “Before she actually does break this window.”

Joe gave her a lazy, satisfied smirk, brushing a thumb across her lower lip. “Rain check?”

“Maybe,” she teased, pulling her dress back up. “If you survive Kayla.” Joe helped her, his fingers brushing against her back as he found the zipper and pulled it up, the sound oddly loud in the silence of the vehicle. He was pulling his pants back on, buttoning them with slightly trembling fingers, when Y/N sat up, looking around for her thong.

She was about to ask Joe if he’d seen them when she caught sight of him out of the corner of her eye. He was holding her underwear in one hand, a smirk playing on his lips as he looked at her.

Y/N narrowed her eyes, reaching for her thong, but Joe moved them out of her reach. “I’ll be keeping these,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument.

She huffed, shaking her head at him. “You’re such a horny bastard, you know that?”

But she was smiling as she said it, a soft, sated smile that made something in Joe’s chest tighten. He grabbed his ruined shirt, shrugging it on, but not bothering to do up the remaining buttons.

They both laughed as the SUV door clicked open, and outside, Kayla stood with her arms crossed, one eyebrow raised, looking like she was ready to deliver a TED Talk and a sermon all in one breath.

This was far from over.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Kayla’s fury was palpable as she stormed toward the SUV where Y/N and Joe were still standing, their earlier moment broken by the chaotic noise of the parking lot. She barely took a moment to compose herself before launching into a tirade, her voice loud enough to echo in the night air.

"Are you seriously out here doing this again?" she shouted, eyes blazing with anger. She jabbed a finger at Joe first, her voice dripping with disbelief. "Joe, really? You think it's okay to just waltz back into Y/N’s life after all that mess with Michelle? After everything she’s been through with you, you're out here acting like it’s no big deal?”

Y/N flinched, guilt flooding her chest, but before she could respond, Kayla shifted her fury to her.

“And you, Y/N?” Kayla’s tone softened slightly but didn’t lose any of its intensity. “After everything I tried to warn you about—everything I begged you to see—you’re out here letting him back in, just like that? I watched you struggle, trying to get over him and now here you are, back at square one like none of this ever happened.”

Y/N's cheeks burned, and she opened her mouth to speak, but Kayla was relentless.

“I told you. I told you he was no good for you. I told you he was gonna mess with your head. And now look at you—letting him pull you right back in. You didn’t even get the full story, and you’re just letting him walk all over your feelings again,” Kayla ranted, practically shaking with frustration. She threw her hands up in exasperation, pacing back and forth in front of them.

Joe stood still, his gaze steady on Kayla as he took her scolding, but his expression was tight, the guilt there too. He didn’t say a word—he knew he deserved every bit of Kayla’s anger, and then some.

“And you,” Kayla finally turned her anger on Joe, her voice ice-cold. “You really think I’m just gonna stand here and watch you waltz back into her life like you didn’t mess it up in the first place? She’s over here, trying to move on, and then you—you—just had to come in and complicate things.”

She pointed at him, her voice shaking with disbelief. “You think Y/N doesn’t deserve better than this? That you can just play around with her heart like it’s a game?”

Joe finally spoke, his voice quiet, regret-filled. “Kayla, I didn’t mean for it to get this way. I made mistakes, okay? But I’m trying to fix things.”

Kayla wasn’t having it, though. She folded her arms across her chest and glared at him, the words spilling out with scathing precision. “Fix things? Oh, it’s a little late for that, don’t you think? After everything that happened with Michelle and the press, you think you can just show up like it’s all fine and dandy?”

She turned back to Y/N, who was standing frozen in place, arms wrapped around herself, looking torn between frustration and disbelief. "I don’t get it, Y/N. I really don’t. You were doing so well without him. Why are you letting him back in now?"

Y/N, who had been silent for the duration of the rant, finally took a deep breath, her posture shifting slightly as she stepped toward Kayla. “Kayla, I know you’re trying to protect me, but you need to stop treating me like I don’t know what I’m doing,” she said, her voice calm but firm. “I made my own decision to let Joe talk to me. I needed to hear him out.”

Kayla threw her hands up again in frustration. “So what, Y/N? Now you’re just gonna let him walk all over you again? Like he hasn’t already ruined your trust?”

Y/N shook her head, her jaw clenched. “It’s not like that. I’m not stupid, Kayla. I know what I’m doing.”

But her words didn’t seem to settle anything in Kayla’s mind. The protective instinct burned too brightly, and Kayla’s next words were nearly a growl.

“You’ve always been the strongest person I know, Y/N. But I’ll be damned if I let you throw yourself back into something this toxic just because he’s got you confused and dickmatized. You deserve so much better than this bullshit.”

Y/N’s chest tightened, her stomach a knot of emotion. She understood Kayla’s anger, but in that moment, the last thing she needed was to be told what to do. Not anymore.

Y/N's voice rang out, firm and resolute as she turned to Kayla, her patience wearing thin from the constant back-and-forth. "Kayla, back off," she said, her tone cutting through the tension like a knife. "If I didn’t want anything to happen, we wouldn’t be standing here right now. You know that.”

Kayla opened her mouth to protest, but Y/N’s gaze was steady, unwavering. She took a deep breath, crossing her arms, her stance showing just how serious she was. “I’m a big girl, Kayla. I can make my own decisions. And right now? I need you to trust me on this one.”

Joe, still standing nearby, could feel the tension building. He could see the crackling energy between Y/N and Kayla. He knew Kayla only wanted what was best for Y/N, but he also knew Y/N needed space to process everything on her own. He could see her frustration, the battle in her eyes, the need to reclaim her agency and stand her ground.

As Kayla took a step forward, ready to fire back with another argument, Joe instinctively moved between them, placing a gentle hand on Kayla’s arm. “Kayla, just—just give her a moment,” he said, his voice calm but firm. “Let her talk. She’s right. She knows what she’s doing.”

Kayla’s glare was sharp, her hands planted firmly on her hips as she eyed the pair still standing closely together, clearly tangled in the aftermath of the passion that just went down. She started with Joe, her finger jabbing toward him like she could pin him to the spot with sheer force of will.

“Joe Burrow, you—” Kayla began, but Y/N interrupted, letting out a tired sigh.

“Kayla, please... not now,” Y/N muttered, feeling the heat rise in her cheeks.

But Kayla was on a roll now, and it didn’t matter if Y/N tried to silence her. The words just spilled out.

Kayla scoffed and shook her head, but the fire in her eyes softened, her arms folding across her chest as she crossed the distance to Y/N. “I just don’t want to see you hurt again,” she said, her voice quieter, though still laced with concern. “You’re my best friend, Y/N. And I can’t just sit here and watch you go through this again with him.”

Y/N’s shoulders softened, and she reached out to touch Kayla’s arm, offering a small, understanding smile. “I know you’re looking out for me, and I love you for it,” she said, her voice gentle now, but still firm in its conviction. “But I have to do this my way. I need to figure out if I can trust him again, Kayla. And I need you to let me.”

“You think I didn’t see y’all sneaking around like that? The world doesn’t need to know everything, but this? Right here, in the parking lot? Really?” Kayla’s voice grew louder as her eyes flicked between Y/N and Joe, scanning their disheveled appearances. “And Joe—really? You couldn’t have taken her inside like a respectable human being? You just had to do it right here, huh?”

Y/N was still holding onto Joe, her hands gripping him lightly, her body pressed into his as if grounding herself against the inevitable storm. Joe just stood there, speechless for a moment, wearing a lazy grin that was pure mischief as he glanced down at her.

“You look cute when you’re mad, Kayla.”

This, of course, made the already heated Kayla’s blood boil just a little more. “Don’t start with me! You’re a professional athlete, not a teenager trying to sneak away from the party. And you—” She shifted her focus back to Y/N, eyes narrowing in that protective best friend way. “Girl, you really gonna let this man have all the power? Look at you both standing there like you’ve been caught in some kind of trap. You know better than this.”

Y/N, who had been silently squirming under the tension of the situation, finally had enough. She turned to Kayla, breaking away from Joe slightly, but still close enough that her hand grazed his arm.

“Kayla,” she started, trying to keep her voice level despite the flush of heat spreading across her cheeks, “can we just... not do this right now?”

Kayla threw up her hands in frustration. “I’m just saying! You’ve got the whole world on your shoulders, girl. The fans, the media, and now... now you’re letting him keep you in the shadows. How long you gonna hide like this, huh?”

Joe stayed quiet for a moment, shifting on his feet. He looked between the two women, clearly caught in the crossfire of Kayla’s protective tirade and Y/N’s obvious discomfort. “Kayla, I get it. You’re just lookin’ out for her. But—"

“No,” Kayla cut him off, rolling her eyes with an exaggerated sigh. “You two are killing me. Y’all could’ve at least had some decorum and class to fuck somewhere that wasn’t the parking lot." She threw her hands in the air like the universe itself had betrayed her, her expression full of exasperation. “I swear... You don’t see me messing around in front of all of Baltimore, do you? I keep it classy.”

Y/N’s jaw dropped in disbelief, the tension breaking in an instant. She couldn’t hold it in anymore, laughter bubbling up from her chest. She turned her face into Joe’s shoulder, trying to hide her grin. The moment was ridiculous, but she couldn’t stop herself. Kayla, with her fierce protectiveness, had absolutely no filter.

“I swear,” Kayla muttered again, throwing her hands up in the air. “I might have to just let y’all have this. But I’m keeping a close eye on you, Joe.”

Y/N, still trying to compose herself, wiped a tear from the corner of her eye as she managed to speak between giggles. “I’m sorry, Kayla, we’ll... be more discreet next time.”

Joe leaned in, his breath brushing against Y/N’s ear as he whispered, “There’s no one else I’d want to be caught with.”

Kayla groaned, clearly at the end of her patience with them both. “You two are impossible. Absolutely impossible. Let’s just get back to the party before I lose all my faith in humanity.”

Y/N’s grin faded a bit, and she turned to Joe, giving him a look that was a little more serious now. “Maybe we should... keep things a little more private for a while. At least until things calm down.”

Joe nodded, his expression softening. “I agree. I don’t want to make things harder for you.”

Kayla, not missing a beat, dramatically threw her hands up in defeat. “Oh, for the love of God, can we just get inside before I throw myself off the balcony?”

Y/N exchanged a quick look with Joe, her gaze soft and understanding. She couldn’t help but chuckle under her breath as Kayla stormed ahead, muttering to herself. She took Joe’s hand, and they followed after her, the air between them a little lighter now. Whatever happened next, at least they’d be facing it together.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The low thump of bass drifted up from the venue below, a steady pulse threading through the concrete bones of the building as Y/N and Joe stepped through the tall glass doors. Warm air greeted them like a sigh, tinged with champagne bubbles, perfume, and the undercurrent of city life humming beyond the terrace windows. Inside, the afterparty had hit its stride—music mellow but insistent, velvet couches glowing under soft pools of neon, servers moving like clockwork with trays balanced on poised hands, their flutes of gold fizz glinting like tiny celebrations.

Y/N paused just inside, letting the atmosphere wrap around her. The moment outside still clung to her skin—Joe’s voice, the impossible weight of what he’d finally said, the proof he’d finally shown. It hadn’t erased the ache entirely, but something inside her had exhaled. Slowly. Tentatively.

She smoothed her dress along her hips, adjusted the neckline, shoulders squaring with deliberate grace. This wasn’t for the cameras, nor the onlookers who might recognize her. This—this centering, this reclaiming—was for herself.

Next to her in a new shirt, Joe's hand lingered in hers for a second longer than expected. He gave her a gentle squeeze, grounding her before letting go. The unspoken signal passed between them like smoke.

“We’ll talk later?” he asked, his voice a low current beneath the music.

“Yeah,” she replied, her gaze steady. “Later.”

Their eyes held for a beat—just long enough to feel the weight of everything unsaid before the rhythm of the room swallowed him back up. He gave her a small, lopsided smile—more real than polished—then turned, disappearing into the velvet blur of chatter and flashing camera phones and industry small talk.

Y/N barely had time to exhale before a flute of champagne was pressed into her hand by a server with a practiced smile. She accepted it with a grateful nod but hadn’t even taken a sip when Kayla appeared beside her like clockwork, eyebrow raised, mouth pulled into a look that was equal parts curiosity and controlled judgment.

Y/N barely had time to take a sip from the champagne flute a server handed her before Kayla was by her side, shooting her a tight-lipped look that somehow said “we’ll unpack this later” and “thank God you didn’t make out in front of a camera” all at once.

Y/N snorted, a soft laugh escaping before she could help it. “We didn’t.”

Kayla gave her a look. “Barely.”

A laugh, this time fuller, slipped past Y/N’s lips. “Shut up.”

“You love me.”

“I do. Unfortunately.”

They clinked glasses, the tension between them eased for the moment by familiarity and friendship. Around them, the party pressed on—guests moving like galaxies in orbit, music shifting to a silkier beat as the DJ adjusted the rhythm for the later hour.

Across the room, under a copper pendant light that reflected off his glass like liquid fire, Joe rejoined his circle with the subtle awkwardness of someone who knew he’d been noticed missing.

“Look who finally made it back,” Tee drawled, lifting his drink lazily like a toast.

Joe didn’t bother pretending. “Shut up.”

“Don’t ‘shut up’ me,” Ja’Marr chimed in, his grin already spreading. “Man disappeared for twenty minutes, comes back looking like the lead in a Netflix rom-com.”

Joe groaned, rubbing the back of his neck before pinching the bridge of his nose. “You two seriously need hobbies.”

“Oh, we have hobbies,” Tee said, mock offended. “One of them is analyzing your tragic love life like it’s a case study.”

Ja’Marr leaned in, lowering his voice as he added with a conspiratorial grin, “Be real. That was her, wasn’t it?”

Joe didn’t answer at first. Instead, he took a long sip from his glass—something amber and biting—and let his gaze drift past the crowd. He found her easily. She was standing beneath the soft glow of string lights, surrounded by Kayla and a few others, her laughter—soft, almost shy—cutting through the hum of the party.

It wasn’t the bold, carefree laugh she’d given onstage earlier that night. But it was real. Close. And that felt like something.

“Yeah,” he said finally. “That was her.”

Tee’s eyebrows lifted. “You good?”

Joe nodded, a quiet certainty behind the motion. “Getting there.”

There was a beat of silence—rare for their trio—before Ja’Marr asked, “So… what happened? You finally talk to her, or did you just give her the patented Burrow sad eyes and hope for the best?”

“I showed her the footage,” Joe said simply.

“Damn.” Tee blinked. “You really went there.”

“I had to. Should’ve done it sooner.” He paused, voice softer. “It’s not all fixed. But it’s a start.”

Ja’Marr clapped a firm hand on Joe’s back. “Took you long enough.”

Tee raised his glass again, this time with more sincerity beneath the sarcasm. “To slow learners.”

Joe rolled his eyes but lifted his drink. “To second chances.”

Their glasses clinked, a sharp note that cut through the low beat of the music for a moment.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

As the night unfurled into its quieter hours, the city beyond the windows pulsed with life—traffic lights blinking in rhythm with the DJ’s slow groove, skyscrapers blinking like beacons in the dark. The air in the room had shifted: looser now, softened by champagne and familiarity. Conversations deepened, laughter came easier, the sharp edges of the evening sanded down by time and trust.

Y/N turned her head slightly, the corner of her eye catching movement near the bar.

There he was.

Joe was laughing at something Tee had said, but as if sensing her eyes on him, he glanced her way. Their gazes met, not urgently, not expectantly—just long enough to acknowledge the delicate thread that still tied them together across the room.

A quiet recognition passed between them. Neither smiled. Neither looked away.

Not everything had been forgiven. The damage still lived in the cracks between words, in the silence of all the things that hadn’t yet been said. But something had cracked open tonight—just enough to let in a sliver of light.

A start. A chance. A maybe.

And for now, maybe that was enough.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The Morning After - Kayla's Apartment

The soft spill of morning light filtered through the half-closed blinds, washing the kitchen in that pale, golden hue that made everything look gentler than it felt. The air was still—thick with quiet and coffee steam. Y/N sat alone at the kitchen island, her fingers curled loosely around a warm mug, eyes distant. The coffee had gone lukewarm half an hour ago, but she hadn’t noticed. Her mind was stuck on replay.

The rooftop. The lights. His voice. The truth.

She blinked down at the surface of her drink, watching the faint ripple where she'd stirred it too long ago. Her phone, screen-side up on the marble counter, buzzed quietly. The name Joe flashed once, twice. A single text. She didn’t open it.

Instead, she reached forward and tapped the screen until it went dark again, the message blinking away like it had never happened. Her thumb lingered for a second longer before she pulled it back, pressing the pad of it into the handle of her cup like she needed something to hold onto.

She wasn’t ready—not yet.

The quiet was broken, suddenly and dramatically, by the sharp creak of the front door swinging open.

Kayla stormed in like a gust of wind, tossing her bag onto the couch without ceremony. Her heels clicked loudly across the hardwood floor as she beelined straight for the kitchen, her expression already halfway between concern and full-blown interrogation.

Y/N didn’t flinch. Didn’t even turn.

“Don’t even start,” she muttered, eyes still fixed on the countertop.

Kayla came to a halt just a few feet away, arms folded across her chest like armor. “You went back to him?” she asked, incredulous. “After everything?”

Y/N inhaled slowly through her nose. She set her mug down, the soft clink of ceramic against marble sounding louder than it should have.

“I had to,” she said quietly.

Kayla’s eyes narrowed. “Had to? Had to?” She scoffed. “After he—”

“I know what he did,” Y/N interrupted, her voice suddenly firmer, more grounded. She finally looked up, meeting Kayla’s gaze head-on. “But Michelle lied.”

The words hung in the air like a dropped glass.

Kayla blinked. “Lied? About what?”

“Everything,” Y/N said, standing now. The movement seemed to give her momentum. “She made it sound like Joe and her were still together. Like I was some kind of side chick.”

Kayla’s jaw tensed. “And you believe him?”

Y/N held her ground. “Yes.”

A long beat. Then—disbelief giving way to frustration—Kayla tilted her head. “Why?”

“He showed me the footage.”

Kayla’s brow furrowed. “Footage?”

“Security footage,” Y/N clarified, walking slowly around the island. “From the house. From the night he ended things with her. Time-stamped, clear audio. It shows everything.”

Another pause. The air felt heavier now, like the truth was trying to take up more space than the room allowed.

Kayla stood motionless for a second longer before finally lowering her arms. She looked away, then back, then let out a reluctant breath as she slumped into one of the barstools.

“Well,” she said slowly, her voice losing some of its edge, “of course there’s a damn video. This man’s got receipts like he’s running a return policy the day after Black Friday.”

Y/N let out a shaky laugh, the tension in her chest easing just a little.

Kayla shot her a look. “And you—you’re just fine now? Back on the Burrow Bandwagon?”

“It’s not like that,” Y/N said, brushing a hand through her hair. “It’s not fixed. There’s still... stuff.”

Kayla raised an eyebrow. “Uh-huh. And by ‘stuff,’ do you mean emotional baggage, unresolved communication issues, or the fact that I heard an actual symphony of moaning coming from that SUV last night?”

Y/N choked on her coffee. “Oh my God, Kayla!”

“What?” she said innocently, propping her chin in her hand. “Don’t act surprised. You were practically glowing when you walked back in. Don’t act like I didn’t see it.”

Y/N covered her face with one hand, groaning. “You’re the worst.”

“Wrong,” Kayla corrected, grinning now. “I’m the best bad influence you’ve ever had. And you know it.”

Y/N laughed, in spite of herself, lowering her hand just enough to peek at her friend through her fingers. Kayla’s face had shifted—still teasing, but there was something warmer beneath it now. Understanding. Loyalty.

“Fine,” Y/N said, straightening. “Maybe we—maybe things happened. But it wasn’t like that. It wasn’t just... sex.”

Kayla snorted. “Oh please, no one has that kind of sexual tension after a months-long cold war and just walks away from it. That man looked like he wanted to devour you whole. And you—”

“Kayla!”

“What?” she said, laughing. “I’m not shaming. I’m admiring. Also—you’re welcome for making myself scarce.”

“You weren’t scarce, you were literally standing in the window when we were finished.”

“Observing,” she said with a shrug. “With love.”

But Kayla was just warming up. She clasped her hands dramatically over her chest, tossing her head back and letting out a loud, theatrical moan. “Oh, Joe, right there! Don’t stop!” she cried, mimicking Y/N’s voice with exaggerated fervor.

Y/N grabbed the nearest throw pillow and lobbed it at her. Kayla caught it easily and hugged it to her chest with a mock-sentimental sigh.

“You hate me now, but someday you’ll thank me for always keeping it real.”

“I already do,” Y/N admitted, voice softer now.

Kayla’s teasing faded just slightly at the edges. She watched her friend for a moment—really watched her. “You’re okay?” she asked, more serious now. “Not just about Joe. About everything?”

Y/N paused, then nodded. “I think I will be.”

A quiet moment passed. The morning light shifted, warming the gold in the countertops and catching in Kayla’s curls as she stood and stretched.

“Alright,” she said, slinging her bag over her shoulder again. “Let’s go. I need greasy breakfast food, and you need carbs to soak up that residual man drama.”

Y/N laughed, grabbing her keys from the bowl by the door. “Pancakes?”

“Obviously.”

They stepped out into the late morning sun, the door swinging shut behind them with a satisfying click. The world outside was already in motion—cars humming down the street, someone walking their dog, birds chirping like they hadn’t just lived through an emotional hurricane the night before.

And maybe that was the point.

Life kept going.

And so would they.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The brunch spot Kayla had chosen was one of those effortlessly curated places that made people feel cooler just for finding it. Tucked neatly into the corner of a sun-dappled downtown block, it had exposed brick walls softened by dangling greenery, matte black fixtures, and indie music floating just beneath the hum of conversation. The kind of place where no one asked questions, and nobody cared if you stayed too long. It smelled of espresso, vanilla, and whatever magic they put in their biscuit batter.

Y/N sat across from Kayla at a corner window table, her legs crossed beneath her chair, sunglasses perched lazily atop her head. The table between them was already cluttered—two sweating glasses of iced coffee, a half-demolished stack of pancakes drizzled in syrup, and a plate of bacon that Kayla kept nudging toward the center like a diplomatic offering.

The morning rush had died down, leaving behind a pleasant din: soft jazz playing through hidden speakers, the clink of forks, the occasional burst of laughter from another table. Outside, sunlight bounced off windshields and filtered through the trees, dappling their table with fractured light.

It could’ve been any Saturday. But it wasn’t.

Y/N had just finished buttering a slice of toast—methodically, like it gave her something to do with her hands—when her phone buzzed beside her plate. The screen lit up with a message, and her fingers hovered for half a second before she picked it up and unlocked it.

Her face didn’t give much away. But her smile did.

Kayla, mid-sip of coffee, squinted over the rim of her glass. “Who is it?”

Y/N didn’t answer right away. She just angled the phone toward her friend without a word, the message sitting bold and plain on the screen.

Joe: Can we talk later? Just you and me.

Kayla stared. Then let out a theatrical groan, dropping her head back like the very sight of his name had physically wounded her. “Oh my God, again?”

Y/N pressed her lips together, trying not to laugh. “What? It’s just a text.”

“‘Just a text,’ she says.” Kayla reached across the table, stole a piece of bacon with the flair of a prosecutor presenting evidence, and waved it like a gavel. “That man doesn’t do casual texts. He does texts with loaded subtext. This is ‘Let’s talk’ code for ‘Let me emotionally dismantle you and then put you through a mattress like it’s therapy. You two can’t keep your hands to yourselves for five freaking seconds.’”

Y/N’s smirk curved slowly upward. She leaned in, elbows on the table, voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. “You wouldn’t keep your hands to yourself either if you had a man with a big piece after you.”

Kayla dropped her fork with a loud clatter.

“No, you didn’t,” she whispered, scandalized, eyes wide. She looked around as if someone might call the manager. “You did not just say that over breakfast.”

Y/N just sipped her coffee with a wink, completely unapologetic.

Kayla slapped the table with both palms, nearly knocking over the syrup. “OH MY GOD. You’re disgusting. We’re literally ten feet from a toddler and a man who might be a priest!”

Y/N wheezed with laughter, doubling over as her shoulders shook. “It’s better than saying member, okay? That’s just... wrong.”

Kayla mock-gagged, clutching her chest like she was about to faint. “If you start quoting stats—like inches, girth, or God forbid, velocity—I will walk into traffic.”

Y/N couldn’t stop giggling. “I’m just saying,” she said between sips, “he’s got stats. On and off the field.”

Kayla gave her a long, withering stare that eventually cracked into a crooked grin. “You’re impossible,” she muttered, but there was warmth beneath the exasperation. “And I still think he’s got some proving to do—but damn it, I almost get why you keep falling into that man’s gravity.”

“You don’t fall,” Y/N replied, slicing into her pancakes. “You kind of get thrown.”

Kayla snorted into her coffee, nearly spilling it.

The chaos ebbed after that, giving way to the kind of silence that only existed between best friends who’d seen each other at their most unfiltered—ugly crying at midnight, laughing until they snorted, confessing things over too much wine that couldn’t be unsaid. The kind of silence that didn’t feel like a gap in conversation, but a comfort in its own right.

Outside the window, someone walked by with a golden retriever in a baby stroller. Across the room, a couple argued halfheartedly over who’d ordered the last croissant. Life moved on, even if theirs still felt slightly paused.

Y/N’s phone buzzed again.

Another message from Joe.

Joe: I’ll be outside after soundcheck. Just say the word.

She didn’t smile this time—not the same way. The corners of her mouth curved upward, yes, but it was softer now. Not breathless. Not giddy. Just steady. Like someone who’d been tested and come out clearer on the other side.

Kayla caught the look but didn’t say anything right away. She leaned back, sipped her coffee, and let the silence stretch just enough.

Y/N finally glanced up. “Relax. I’ve got both feet on the ground.”

Kayla arched a skeptical brow. “I’ve seen your feet in the air, sweetie. Don’t play.”

Y/N laughed. “I know what I’m doing.”

“Mm-hmm,” Kayla replied, chewing her last piece of bacon. “Just make sure that the next time I walk past your bedroom, I don’t hear you scream the word ‘ground’ in a whole other context.”

Y/N choked on her coffee, coughing and swatting at her friend with a napkin. Kayla, unbothered, grinned like a cat who’d just knocked over a wine glass for fun.

“You’re evil,” Y/N wheezed.

“Correction,” Kayla said, tossing her napkin onto the plate. “I’m the friend who’s gonna tease you mercilessly, and be there at 3 a.m. when it all falls apart again. You’re welcome.”

Y/N smiled, heart full. “I know.”

And she did. No matter how complicated things with Joe got—no matter how tangled or high the stakes—Kayla would be there. With sarcasm, sass, and the kind of loyalty that didn’t flinch.

The check arrived. Kayla grabbed it before Y/N could.

“Don’t argue,” she said. “It’s on me. Consider it an emotional damage fee.”

Y/N rolled her eyes. “At this rate, I owe you a yacht.”

“Just name it something slutty and we’re even.”

They stood and walked out into the late-morning sunlight. The air smelled like cinnamon from a nearby bakery and fresh asphalt from a city trying to fix itself one crack at a time.

Kayla followed her gaze and sighed. “Well. Go get your quarterback.”

Y/N smirked. “You’re gonna make fun of me forever, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

But her voice was warm. Steady. Proud.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Atlanta – Green Room

The green room buzzed with a warm kind of chaos. The hum of lighting rigs being tested, the muted murmur of the crowd beyond the heavy curtains, the rustle of sequins and synthetic fabric as stylists made last-minute adjustments—it all blended into a rhythmic pre-show noise that pulsed just beneath the surface.

Y/N sat on the velvet couch near the far wall, the dressing mirror lights casting a soft halo over her features as she scrolled through her phone with a distracted thumb. Her glam was done, outfit on point, but her heart was still somewhere else—hovering in the space between clarity and confusion.

The door creaked open.

“Hey, superstar,” Kayla called, sauntering in like she owned the place. She tossed her tote onto a nearby chair and flopped beside Y/N, radiating her usual blend of sarcasm and affection. “Ready to rock the stage?”

Y/N glanced up, offering a faint smile. “You know it.”

Kayla nudged her playfully with her shoulder, eyeing her over the rim of her latte. “Sooo…” she started, stretching the word out with suspicion. “What’s the deal with Joe? Still playing hot-and-cold or are we officially entering the ‘man redemption arc’ chapter of your life?”

Before Y/N could answer, a knock came at the door—three soft, deliberate raps.

Kayla’s eyebrows arched. “Speak of the devil,” she whispered with a grin.

Y/N stood, brushing invisible lint off her outfit. “Can you give us a minute?” she asked quietly.

Kayla blinked once. Then smirked like she’d won a bet with herself. “Oh, so now you’re kicking me out? Fine.” She stood with an exaggerated sigh. “I’ll go flirt with the hot tech guy. But don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.”

“That narrows the field by, like, two percent,” Y/N muttered with a small smile.

Kayla gave a dramatic bow and slipped out the door just as Joe stepped in.

He closed the door behind him, his tall frame momentarily backlit by the hallway glow before it dimmed to the room’s gentler lighting. He looked good—too good, Y/N thought bitterly, for someone who’d left a trail of confusion and mess in his wake. Baseball cap low, hands shoved in the pockets of his hoodie, eyes scanning her face like he didn’t know where to start.

“Hey,” she said softly.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice rough around the edges. “I know you’ve got a show to do, and I won’t take long. But I needed to talk to you. Really talk.”

Y/N nodded once, her face unreadable. She gestured to the open seat beside her. “Sit.”

He did.

There was a beat of silence. Long enough for the muffled thump of the bass from the arena to seep through the walls. Joe exhaled, rubbing the back of his neck, like he’d been holding this conversation in for too long and didn’t trust himself to say it right.

“I need to explain everything,” he started. “No deflecting. No half-truths. Just... facts. No more confusion. No more guessing.”

Y/N didn’t speak. Her gaze stayed steady, letting him fill the quiet.

“Michelle and I broke up the day after Christmas,” he said. “It wasn’t clean. I told her it wasn’t working and hadn’t been for a while. We were just... coasting. And I knew that wasn’t fair. To her or to me.”

He looked down at his hands, fingers absently rubbing at a callus on his thumb. “I didn’t parade it around or post anything about it because… well, I’ve never been that guy. I like to keep the personal stuff personal. But that gave her room to twist it when it suited her. I didn’t think she’d go as far as she did.”

Y/N’s voice was quiet, steady as her jaw flexed. “She called me, Joe. Told me you were still together. That I was some secret. A mistake. Hell, that I was the other woman.”

Joe winced like she’d slapped him. “I know. And I hate that you had to hear that. I should’ve seen it coming. I underestimated her, and that’s on me.”

He turned to face her more fully now, his voice gentler, more vulnerable.

“But I swear to you, Y/N, I never lied. Not once. You were never the other woman—you were the only one who made any of it feel real again. And I haven’t been able to stop thinking about you since the night we met in Baltimore.”

Something shifted in her expression. Subtle. Like a window opening an inch.

“That night,” Joe continued, “you walked in and cracked something open in me. I didn’t even know what the hell it was at first. You just sat there, talking like you owned the room, and I remember thinking, damn. There she is.”

He smiled, faint and sincere. “I couldn’t look away. I still can’t.”

Y/N looked down at her hands, at her fingers twisting the edge of her sleeve. Her voice was quiet, but there was no mistaking the honesty in it.

“You came in like a storm, Joe. Flipped my whole world upside down.”

He let out a soft breath, a half-laugh full of affection and relief. Joe smiled faintly, something sad and hopeful flickering across his face. “Yeah,” he murmured. “You did the same to me.”

And for the first time in what felt like weeks—since that call from Michelle, since the headlines, since everything exploded—the space between them softened. The wall she’d been holding up cracked, just a little. The tension that had once sat like stone in her chest began to loosen, thread by thread.

She finally looked at him. Really looked.

There was no performance here. No quarterback charm. Just a man trying to tell the truth, maybe for the first time in a long time. There was no doubt in his eyes—just clarity. Something real. Something worth navigating the chaos for.

“I don’t know what this is,” Y/N said, her voice low. “But I know it’s not nothing. And I know it’s not finished.”

Joe nodded slowly, something vulnerable flickering in his eyes. “Me neither. But I know I want more of it. Of you. I want to do this right.”

Silence settled between them again—but this time, it wasn’t strained. It was full of possibility. Full of them.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Pre-VIP Session: The Green Room

The green room hummed with the usual pre-show energy—technicians making last-minute adjustments backstage, stylists putting finishing touches on outfits, and the faint sound of the crowd beginning to filter in from the venue. Y/N stood before the full-length mirror in the corner, inspecting her reflection with a critical eye.

She was dressed in a wine-colored leather halter corset that tied at the front, accentuating her curves and giving her an air of confident allure. The black jean mini skirt hugged her waist, and the white pleather calf boots added a modern edge to her look. Her usual natural curls were replaced with a chocolate brown body wave wig that cascaded down her back in glossy waves, framing her face with a sultry, polished appearance.

As she adjusted the corset, ensuring every detail was perfect, she heard voices from the couch behind her. Turning slightly, she saw Joe and Kayla engaged in a heated debate.

Kayla was practically bouncing on the cushions, her tone passionate. "Bucky is the most complex character, Joe," Kayla argued, her tone passionate. "He literally went from being a sidekick to Captain America to having his own arc of redemption. He's a warrior and a survivor—plus, the arm is badass."

Joe, lounging with a smirk, shot back, "Please. Iron Man is the heart of the MCU. He built everything from the ground up, and without him, there’s no Avengers team. Plus, the guy’s got charisma, money, and suits that are literally a walking arsenal. He's the real deal."

Y/N leaned against the doorway, crossing her arms as she observed the back-and-forth with amusement. "You two are still arguing about this?" she asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm as she pushed off from the doorframe and walked toward them.

Kayla threw her hands up dramatically. "Of course, we are! It's the greatest debate of all time!"

Joe, noticing her approach, smirked. "Hey, she’s finally making her grand entrance."

Y/N raised an eyebrow, eyeing Joe with a knowing smile. "Yeah, well, unlike you two, I actually need to get to work." She paused, letting the tension of her teasing hang in the air for a moment. "But first, I need your opinions on something." She twirled around, showing off her full outfit. "How do I look?"

Joe and Kayla both stared at her for a moment, their mouths briefly hanging open at the sight. Y/N was fierce in her wine-colored leather corset, every inch of her oozing confidence. The boots clicked against the floor as she took a few steps closer to them, waiting for their reactions.

Kayla broke the silence first, her eyes wide with exaggerated admiration. "Okay, damn, girl. You look hot. Like, seriously, I don't know if I want to be you or date you right now."

Y/N let out a soft laugh, feeling a rush of pride at the compliment. She turned to Joe, her lips curling into a sly smile. "And what do you think, Mr. Iron Man?"

Joe, still a little stunned, cleared his throat as if trying to regain his composure. "You look… incredible," he said, his voice deep with admiration. "Definitely gonna need to keep the fans in line with an outfit like that." His eyes darkened for a split second, the unspoken intensity between them palpable.

Kayla snorted. "Oh, I can already hear them screaming for you in the front row, Y/N. Damn, I think I’m in love with you right now, too." She shot a playful wink at Joe. "But you know, I have to say, you might just make Iron Man look really good right now."

Joe rolled his eyes. "Yeah, yeah, whatever. But can we get back to the most important question? Who’s the better character?"

Kayla gave him a sassy look. "You’re never gonna win this argument, Joseph. Bucky’s too much of a legend."

Y/N threw her hands up in mock exasperation, shifting back to the task at hand. "Okay, enough with the Avengers debate, you nerds. I’ve got a show to put on." She shot them both a teasing look. "But I appreciate the compliments, seriously."

Joe and Kayla shared a look, both smiling at the playful energy in the room. Kayla stood up, stretching her arms as if to signal the end of their argument. "Fine, I’ll let you go do your VIP thing. Just... don't forget, Bucky is still the best."

Joe chuckled as Y/N rolled her eyes. "Alright, alright, I’ll let it go. But let’s just agree that you’re both wrong and I’m right," he said, standing up to pull her into a quick hug. “Good luck out there. You’re gonna kill it.”

Y/N grinned as she pulled away, her eyes twinkling. "Thanks. But I’ll kill it better if you two can keep it together for five minutes."

Kayla rolled her eyes. “You’re so dramatic.” She gave Y/N a wink. “Go blow them away, girl.”

As Y/N walked toward the door, she gave Joe one last lingering glance. "I'll see you after, yeah?"

Joe nodded, a soft smile pulling at his lips. “I’ll be right here.”

With one last wave, Y/N stepped out of the green room, her boots clicking down the hallway as she made her way to the VIP section. Behind her, Kayla and Joe resumed their playful bickering, but for Y/N, the night was just beginning. And whatever happened next, she was ready for it.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

VIP Lounge

The hum of anticipation filled the VIP room like a low, steady rhythm. Warm lighting bathed the sleek interior in a golden glow, catching the sparkle of sequins and excited smiles. The air was charged with something electric—part fan devotion, part curiosity, and part magic that only music, connection, and maybe a hint of romance could bring.

Y/N stood just outside the entrance, taking a deep breath before stepping through the threshold. Her heels clicked against the polished floor as she entered, immediately drawing every eye in the room. The applause was immediate and enthusiastic. She was met with a chorus of cheers, phone screens lighting up to capture her arrival.

Her heart swelled at the sight. These were her people—the fans who had followed her journey through late-night songwriting sessions, live-streamed acoustic sets, album drops, heartbreak lyrics, and cryptic Instagram captions. The ones who didn’t just stream her music—they felt it.

“Alright, let’s get started!” Y/N called out, her voice clear and full of energy. She smiled wide, eyes dancing across the crowd. “Welcome to the VIP experience—my favorite part of the night.”

A ripple of applause passed through the crowd, and she gestured toward the small photo area that had been set up with soft lighting and a backdrop of moody blues and golds—mirroring the cover art of her latest album.

“First up, photos! So get those smiles ready—I want to remember each of your beautiful faces.”

One by one, the fans came forward, and Y/N greeted each of them with a genuine warmth that never felt rehearsed. She asked names, cracked jokes, hugged them like old friends. A few even teared up, overwhelmed to meet someone whose lyrics had been a lifeline during dark times. She listened intently, responding with the kind of attention that made people feel seen, not just acknowledged.

When the final shutter clicked, and the last selfie was snapped, she stepped back, brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear.

“Now, for the part where you get to grill me,” she teased, walking over to a cozy seating area near the center of the room. Plush chairs and twinkle lights gave the space a campfire intimacy, and she plopped down with a laugh, mic in hand. “Time for the Q&A.”

Y/N took a seat in the middle of the room, a relaxed smile on her face as she scanned the eager crowd. Kayla had taken her place beside the refreshment table, arms crossed, her usual teasing grin in place as she listened to the fans get comfortable.

“Alright,” Y/N said, scanning the sea of raised hands. “You in the front row—what’s your question?”

The fan stood up shyly, clutching a notebook like it might steady her nerves. “Um... okay, I have to ask. We’ve all seen the rumors about you and Joe Burrow. Is there, like... anything to them?”

And just like that, the room collectively leaned in.

Y/N froze for the briefest of moments, her practiced calm slipping as her cheeks began to warm. Here it is, she thought. The question I knew was coming but still wasn't ready for.

Her gaze flicked toward Kayla, who raised a single eyebrow and mouthed, Told you.

Y/N took a slow breath, then let a soft smile spread across her lips. “Joe is… a great guy,” she began, choosing her words carefully. “He might seem like your typical closed-off, all-business football player, but that’s not really who he is. Not completely. He’s incredibly passionate about what he does—and more than that, he’s loyal. He shows up for the people he cares about. I’m really grateful to have someone like him in my circle.”

Her voice stayed even, but her blush betrayed her. There was something fragile and unsaid hanging between the words—something honest. Fans murmured softly, absorbing her answer like it was a lyric with hidden meaning.

Y/N’s words were genuine, but the subtle blush that crept onto her cheeks told a different story. She had to admit, there was something about Joe that kept drawing her in, even though they weren’t “official.” But the connection was real, no matter what label they put on it.

“Aw,” someone whispered. Another fan nodded, whispering something to the girl beside her, eyes wide.

Y/N could see the curiosity in their eyes, but no one pushed her for more. They respected her boundaries, and she appreciated that more than they knew.

Before the moment could pass, another fan, clearly emboldened, raised her hand and smirked. “Okay, but we have to ask,” she said with a mischievous glint in her eye. “Your song ‘Heat In The Sheets’—that wasn’t just fiction, right? It’s got real vibes. Is it about anyone in particular? Like... someone special? We know it’s not about Ja’Marr. And that cover? Very… steamy.”

The room burst into light laughter and playful gasps. Kayla let out a dramatic sigh of satisfaction, practically rubbing her hands together.

Y/N’s eyes widened slightly as she tried to keep her cool, but it was no use. She felt a heat rush to her face, and she knew she was blushing. The fan had asked the one question Y/N had been dreading all night. She glanced over at Kayla, who was already trying to hold in her laughter, her eyes twinkling mischievously.

“Oh this is going to be good,” she said, cackling. “I knew someone was gonna go there.”

Y/N gave her a look—equal parts exasperation and amusement—but couldn’t help the smile pulling at the corners of her lips. “Seriously, Kayla?”

Kayla just grinned wider, leaning in conspiratorially. “Hey, I’m just here for emotional support.”

Y/N turned back to the fan and took a deep breath. “Well… ‘Heat In The Sheets’ is a song about intimacy, about chemistry that you can’t fake. It’s vulnerable, raw—even a little dangerous.” She paused, letting her words linger. “And while I’m not naming names... let’s just say the song came from a very real place. The inspiration was… layered.”

“Layered?” Kayla echoed, eyes twinkling with mischief. “That’s what we’re calling it now?”

“I swear to God, Kayla…” Y/N laughed, her hand flying to her face to hide the deepening blush.

“But honestly,” she continued, composing herself, “yes, the cover art was meant to be provocative. I wanted it to convey the intensity of the song. I wanted the visuals to match the energy and vibe of the music—how consuming it can feel. It’s not about one person. It’s about the feeling.”

A fan near the back called out, “So you're saying Joe makes you feel things?”

That earned a wave of chuckles, and even Y/N couldn’t stop the giggle that escaped. “I’m saying… the music speaks for itself,” she replied with a wink. “And that’s all you’re getting from me tonight.”

The laughter died down into fond murmurs, and Kayla threw up her hands in surrender. “Alright, alright, I’ll give her that. But I better get the director’s cut later.”

“Only if you promise to behave,” Y/N shot back, her smile warm but her eyes still dancing with embarrassment.

Eventually, the questions shifted toward safer ground—favorite tour moments, her writing process, whether there’d be a deluxe edition of the album—and Y/N was grateful for the change in pace. Still, she couldn’t help glancing toward the side door now and then, half-expecting a tall figure in a hoodie and backwards cap to step through.

She didn't see Joe though. But that didn’t stop her from thinking about him.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

After wrapping up the Q&A, Y/N stood and clapped her hands. “Alright, time for a game! Don’t worry, I’m not gonna make anyone sing karaoke or anything.”

Cheers erupted, and the room broke into teams for a round of music trivia—everything from lyrics to behind-the-scenes facts only the truest fans would know. The competition was fierce but fun, and Y/N even jumped in to help one struggling team, claiming she was only “moderately cheating.”

Finally, the lights dimmed just slightly, and a stool was placed center stage beneath a soft spotlight. The room grew quiet, expectant.

Y/N stepped forward, now holding her acoustic guitar. She took a breath, fingers brushing the strings.

“This next part is my favorite,” she said, her voice softer now. “No production. No auto-tune. Just us, and the music.”

She strummed the first chord, and the melody floated into the stillness. Her voice was rich and textured, intimate in a way that filled the space without overwhelming it. Every lyric felt personal, like a secret confession whispered into the dark.

When the final chord faded, the silence lingered for a moment—long enough to take your breath.

Then came the applause, not wild but reverent.

Y/N looked out at her fans, her heart full. Whatever this thing with Joe became—whether it turned into a love song or another what-if—she knew she was grounded in something real.

Music. Connection. Truth.

And tonight had been all of that and more.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Backstage - Green Room

The green room pulsed with a quiet, simmering energy—the kind that always settled in just before the lights dropped and the first note echoed into an arena full of screaming fans. It was a strange kind of calm, a silence that throbbed with anticipation. Time moved differently here: slower, heavier, each second another heartbeat closer to the stage.

The air was thick with familiar scents—warm hairspray hanging like mist in the atmosphere, the faint tang of setting powder, a trace of sweat beneath the glam, and the electric hum of stage lights warming up in the rafters above. It was intoxicating in its own way. To some, it might feel claustrophobic. To Y/N, it felt like home.

She stood in the center of the room, her body moving fluidly through her vocal warmups, every note weaving effortlessly with the soft rhythm of her pre-show track playing through the small overhead speakers. Her arms stretched upward, her spine curving like a dancer’s, hips shifting to the subtle beat only she seemed to fully inhabit. The movement wasn’t choreographed—it was instinct, her body tuning itself like an instrument before the storm.

Her outfit was already on, and it was a showstopper. Midnight black sequins clung to her like starlight, the bodysuit cut to perfection—plunging neckline, sculpted sides, sheer long sleeves catching the light with every flick of her hand. Her boots, thigh-high and razor-sharp, completed the silhouette: commanding, untouchable, divine. A woman at the peak of her power.

Her hair—a glossy, chocolate-brown body wave wig—tumbled over her shoulders like velvet. It framed her face like a halo of seduction and strength, offsetting the silver gleam of her outfit with a softness that made people look twice. She looked like a storm, and moved like fire.

“Hold still,” came Sariyah’s voice, low and precise.

Her makeup artist hovered at her side, gloss wand in one hand, the other steadying her jaw. The gloss caught the light as it touched her bottom lip, turning it into a mirror of molten glass.

“You’re already glowing,” Sariyah murmured as they added a final sweep of highlighter to her cheekbones. “But we’re going full-blown spotlight goddess tonight.”

Y/N chuckled under her breath, lips parting slightly as she looked toward the mirror. “Is that the technical term?”

Sariyah smirked. “I’ve got a license in cosmetic divinity. You’re welcome.”

Y/N rolled her eyes fondly but didn’t protest. Her gaze lingered in the mirror—half on herself, half on the familiar rhythm of the routine. But then, just beyond her reflection, she saw him.

Joe.

He was slouched on the green velvet couch in the corner, legs spread comfortably, elbows resting on his thighs. His phone lay idle in one hand, screen dark, completely forgotten. His attention was locked on her, unguarded and intent. There was something about the way he looked at her—something reverent, almost stunned. He wasn’t smiling. Not yet. He was just...watching. Like he didn’t want to blink and miss anything.

He wasn’t supposed to be there, not really. He had meetings earlier, team things. But he’d shown up anyway, slipping into the room without making a sound. Now he sat quietly, a shadow in the corner, like her secret. Like her favorite secret.

She caught his gaze in the mirror, her brow lifting playfully. Their eyes met, and she let a teasing smile curl her lips before she winked.

Joe’s response was immediate.

A grin—slow, lopsided, boyish. The kind of smile that made you believe in summer again. He didn’t try to hide it, didn’t look away. He didn’t need to say anything. That look said it all: Damn.

Sariyah, still focused on the finishing touches, noticed the silent exchange and rolled their eyes dramatically.

“Jesus, the tension in here could fry a circuit board,” they muttered, pulling back with a satisfied hum. “Y’all trying to set off the fire alarm before curtain?”

Y/N snorted. “Focus, Riyah. I need to be a spotlight goddess, remember?”

Sariyah stepped back, hands on hips, appraising their work like a sculptor admiring their masterpiece. “You’re not just a goddess, babe. You’re a whole-ass constellation. Now go out there and remind the world who the sky belongs to.”

Y/N stood, letting the gravity of the moment settle into her bones. The mic pack clipped neatly at the back of her suit hummed softly as she adjusted the strap. She rolled her shoulders, breathing in deep—finding that familiar center she always reached for before stepping into the light.

Her adrenaline was starting to build, curling hot and alive in her chest.

But before she turned toward the door, she let herself look at Joe again.

He hadn’t moved.

Still watching. Still smiling.

“Hey,” she said softly, just for him.

He stood immediately, his six-foot-four frame unfolding with quiet strength as he crossed the room. His movements were deliberate, unhurried. There was something about the way he walked—confident, grounded, like he didn’t need to prove a thing. Not to anyone. Not even to her.

He stopped just in front of her, eyes sweeping down and back up. “You ready for this?”

His voice was low, a rumble that settled somewhere behind her ribs.

Y/N smiled, that unshakable fire returning to her gaze. “I was born for this.”

And she meant it. Every word.

Joe didn’t say anything else—just nodded, his eyes lingering on her face a beat longer before stepping back. He wouldn’t get in her way. He never did. He knew she didn’t need anyone to hold the door open for her. She was the one who built the door.

As the stage manager called the five-minute warning, the green room buzzed into motion. Assistants hurried through final checks, walkie-talkies crackled, and the sound of the crowd beyond the walls grew louder, more insistent. The world was waiting.

Y/N took one last glance at the mirror. She looked like a storm. She felt like fire.

And she was ready to burn the whole damn place down.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The arena was already alive.

Even before the music started, before a single spotlight snapped to life or a lyric kissed the air, the space thrummed with electricity. Tens of thousands of fans packed every row, the buzz of anticipation crackling like static beneath violet lights that shimmered across the crowd like magic dust.

From her place just offstage, Y/N could feel it—that feeling. The one that never got old. The floor itself seemed to pulse beneath her boots, the intro track rumbling up through the soles like a second heartbeat. She stood surrounded by organized chaos—technicians communicating through headsets, cords trailing like veins across the ground, dancers doing last-minute stretches, and fog machines beginning their slow, ghostly crawl across the stage.

Kayla, to her left, rolled her shoulders and shook out her limbs like a prizefighter about to step into the ring. Her braids were pulled high into a snatched ponytail, her stage face already on—focused, fierce, unflinching. She caught Y/N’s eye and smirked.

“Let’s go shut it down,” she said, her voice calm but electric with purpose.

Y/N grinned, breath steady even as her heart picked up pace. “Say less.”

The house lights dropped to black, swallowing the arena in velvet.

And then—

BOOM.

A thunderclap of pyrotechnics exploded into the rafters. Gold and crimson flame visuals erupted on the LED screens behind the stage. Smoke bled across the floor like rolling thunderclouds, lasers slicing the dark in time with the downbeat.

The crowd went feral.

And in the middle of it all, she rose.

The stage lift brought Y/N up from the underworld in perfect sync with the first bass drop, light catching on the sequins of her bodysuit like scattered stars. Mic in hand. Legs braced. Shoulders squared. Head tilted just so. Eyes blazing.

She didn’t need to say a word.

The moment she appeared, the arena detonated.

The first note of “Private Party” dropped like a sledgehammer, and she was already moving. Her voice—sultry, sharp, crystalline—cut clean through the haze, commanding and controlled. The choreography burst around her like lightning strikes. Each move practiced to perfection, but never mechanical. Kayla flanked her to the left, hitting every beat with deadly precision, her body an extension of the rhythm.

They were synced like twin flames, like muscle memory made real.

Y/N’s body told the story before her voice ever did. Every flick of her wrist, every slow grind of her hips, every smirk that curled across her lips was deliberate. Seductive. Dominant. She wasn’t asking for attention—she owned it. Her gaze swept the crowd like a queen surveying her kingdom.

And through it all, her eyes never faltered. Not until they landed on one corner of the VIP pit.

There he was.

Joe stood near the back, just off to the side, tucked among a few members of her team. He didn’t move. Didn’t cheer. Just watched.

Unblinking. Devoted. Hypnotized.

She didn’t smile. Not yet. But her heart kicked in her chest as if it knew he was watching. That look in his eyes—quiet, reverent—wasn’t the look of a man watching a performer.

It was the look of a man watching his heart beat outside his body.

The show rolled on.

One high-octane number bled into the next. The dancers were locked in with her, the stage lighting changing like a living organism—pulsing reds, flashing whites, deep ocean blues. She transitioned into “Body Electric” next, its shimmering synths turning the arena into a galaxy of sound. The tempo slowed, sensual and smooth, and the lighting dropped until a single spotlight circled her.

She stepped forward. Alone. Mic held close. Her breath caught for just a moment before she belted the bridge.

The high note hit like a wave, her voice unwavering as it soared to the rafters.

From behind her, Kayla kept the motion fluid, but somewhere mid-spin, she caught Joe’s eye.

And winked.

Because she’d seen it too. The way he looked at Y/N like he was witnessing something sacred. Like gravity had shifted, and the axis of his world was now singing into a microphone under a burning white light.

Y/N kept going—track after track, outfit change after outfit change, sweat slicking her brow and collarbone, her voice never faltering. There was fire under her skin now. Adrenaline and art braided into one unstoppable force.

She slipped into the acoustic section, a sharp contrast that hushed the crowd instantly. No pyrotechnics. No dancers. Just her, a guitar, and the hush of 20,000 people holding their breath.

Her voice dropped into velvet.

“Can’t Keep Me Quiet” was a fan favorite, a rebellion wrapped in honey, and tonight, it landed differently. Midway through the second verse, her eyes searched the crowd again—drawn like a magnet.

She found him.

And her voice caught—just for a second. A tiny crack in the glass.

Joe saw it. Felt it. Because he wasn’t just listening. He was reading her.

She recovered immediately, pushing forward with that same fire. But the moment hung there, suspended. Like a secret whispered in the dark.

The audience didn’t miss a beat. They swayed with her, arms waving, flashlights dancing in the dark like constellations. But Joe? Joe heard the break. And it gutted him in the best way.

When the time came for the encore, Y/N returned to the stage with her full company. The arena was already in frenzy, and she didn’t disappoint.

“Heat in the Sheets” bled into “No Halo” in a seamless mash-up. The bass rattled the bones of the building. Fire cannons flared with every downbeat. The choreography was feral now—untamed, joyous, relentless. Kayla flipped her braids like whips, mouthing the lyrics like a woman possessed.

And Y/N…

She was fire incarnate.

Glowing. Glistening. Gone.

Her body moved like it had no limits, every lyric a spark, every breath a roar.

She ended it with one hand raised, mic in the other, hips cocked, lip curled, spotlight catching the fire in her eyes.

Blackout.

The crowd exploded.

Screaming. Crying. Chanting her name. Applause so loud it shook the rafters like thunder.

Y/N stood in the center of it all, chest heaving, lungs burning, the thrill of it crashing through her like a tidal wave. Kayla ran up behind her, throwing her arms around her shoulders, both of them laughing breathlessly, their adrenaline still climbing even after the last note had dropped.

Backstage, the crew scrambled—some preparing for breakdown, others lining up to congratulate her, to capture the moment.

But Y/N wasn’t thinking about the afterparty.

She wasn’t even thinking about the crowd anymore.

All she could think about was the way Joe had looked at her.

Like she wasn’t just a star.

Like she was his.

And somewhere deep in her chest, beneath the glitter and sweat, something wild and warm stirred. A flicker of something unspoken. Something real.

Tonight was hers. The lights, the noise, the thunder of a thousand voices screaming her name.

But maybe… just maybe…

She wasn’t performing for the crowd anymore.

Maybe now, she was singing for him.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The final notes of the encore still echoed like aftershocks in the rafters, the stadium vibrating with the residual energy of twenty thousand voices screaming her name. As the last burst of pyrotechnics fizzled out, the lights dipped low once more, signaling the end of the show.

Y/N stepped off the stage, heart pounding, skin slick with sweat, and soul buzzing like a live wire. The moment her boots hit the backstage ramp, she was swallowed into a sea of hugs, cheers, and high-fives.

“Let’s gooo!” someone shouted behind her.

“You snapped, girl!”

One of her backup dancers slapped her on the back while a tech handed her a towel and a water bottle. She barely had time to breathe before Kayla barreled into her, wrapping her in a tight, slightly sweaty hug that smelled of hairspray and adrenaline.

“You killed it out there!” Kayla beamed, her voice muffled against Y/N’s shoulder. “Like—lights out, no survivors.”

Y/N laughed, breathless and high on the rush. “Thanks, Kay.” She pulled back, their foreheads still nearly touching. “I couldn’t have done it without you.”

Kayla grinned, brushing a damp curl off her own forehead. “Damn right you couldn’t. Now go get your flowers before I steal them all.”

As her crew moved around her in a joyful flurry—dancers grabbing robes, stagehands dismantling the set, stylists prepping for the post-show cool-down—Y/N slowly turned her gaze toward the far end of the corridor.

And there he was.

Joe.

Leaning casually against a steel beam with one foot crossed over the other, arms folded, that familiar half-grin tugging at his lips. He was still in the dark jeans and hoodie he’d worn when she last saw him and the backwards cap hiding his curls, but now his presence felt different—charged, somehow. He hadn't cheered. He hadn’t needed to. He’d watched her the way a storm watches the sea.

Their eyes met, and the chaos around her seemed to muffle and fade, like someone had turned down the volume on reality.

She reached behind her, unhooking the mic pack with practiced fingers, then pulled her in-ear monitors free, letting them fall into the waiting hands of her assistant. With each movement, her body loosened—still humming with performance energy, but no longer holding tension.

Y/N took a breath, brushed a damp strand of hair from her temple, and started walking—confident and unhurried, like the stage was still hers.

Joe pushed off the pillar, straightening as she approached. He met her halfway.

Close up, he smelled like leather and clean cologne, a grounding contrast to the sensory overload of stage fog and flashing lights. His gaze, steady and unguarded, held nothing but open admiration. And something else. Something warmer. Hungrier. He extended a hand, and she took it without hesitation.

“You were incredible,” he said, voice low, rough at the edges like he hadn’t spoken in a while.

Y/N’s smile softened, her heart stuttering at the gravity in his tone. “Thanks.” She reached up to push her hair behind her ear, suddenly aware of every inch of skin he was looking at. “But honestly? I couldn’t have done it without my team. They hold me up.”

Joe tilted his head, a glint of mischief breaking through his reverence. “And maybe a little help from your biggest fan?”

She laughed then, bright and real, her shoulders relaxing as the tension gave way to something softer. “Is that what you are now?”

“Don’t act like you didn’t know.”

She arched a brow, stepping just a little closer. “I thought you were supposed to be all reserved and unreadable.”

“I make exceptions,” he said, eyes dropping momentarily to her lips. “For you.”

Heat prickled across her cheeks. She tried to play it cool, but her pulse betrayed her.

“I think you might be my biggest distraction,” she murmured.

Joe grinned, unabashed now. “I can live with that.”

They stood there for a breathless beat, locked in that liminal space where time stretches and contracts, where things don’t need to be said out loud to be understood. The buzz of the crew melted into the distance, replaced by the low thrum of shared energy between them.

She finally broke the silence, her voice softer, more vulnerable. “So… what did you really think?”

Joe stepped in just a little closer, the warmth of his body brushing against hers. He leaned in, slow and deliberate, until his lips hovered just beside her ear. His breath sent a shiver down her spine.

“I think…” he said, pausing long enough to make her breath hitch, “...you’re even more mesmerizing up close.”

Y/N swallowed hard. The heat between them thickened, the air charged like the seconds before lightning strikes. She turned her head slightly, enough to meet his gaze again. There was no room for second-guessing here. No cameras. No crowd. Just them.

“Maybe,” she said, voice low, teasing, “we should continue this conversation somewhere quieter.”

Joe’s smile was slow and sure. “Lead the way.”

She didn’t have to ask twice.

With a final glance around the backstage madness—people still celebrating, still riding the high—Y/N reached for Joe’s hand. He laced his fingers through hers without hesitation. It felt natural, like they’d been doing it for years.

They slipped away together, weaving through the corridors until the music was only a ghost in the walls, and the only sound left was the rhythm of their steps and the undercurrent of something new forming between them.

Something real.

Something that didn’t need a spotlight to shine.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

Back in the green room, the electric pulse of the show had long since faded into a quiet hum of post-performance satisfaction. The harsh lights had dimmed, and the roar of the crowd was now nothing more than a distant memory, swallowed by the insulated walls of the room. Y/N had shed the weight of her performance, feeling the cool relief of a freshly drawn shower. The water had washed away the sweat, the glitter, the aftershocks of her set—but it hadn’t taken away the glow from her skin, or the spark in her eyes.

She’d traded her stage outfit for something more comfortable: an oversized gray hoodie that swallowed her whole and a pair of soft black shorts that teased at her legs. Her damp curls, now dry and soft, were tucked neatly beneath a satin scarf, leaving only the faintest hint of makeup on her face. Her skin still carried the warmth of the stage lights, but it was now a quiet warmth, settling into the peacefulness of the moment.

Joe was beside her on the couch, his arm draped lazily around her shoulders. His hand, cool and steady, traced idle patterns along her arm, sending soft tingles up her spine. Y/N leaned into him, her cheek resting gently against his chest, savoring the silence. The world outside this room could be as loud and chaotic as it wanted, but here, with him, everything was still.

“This might be my favorite part of the night,” she murmured, her voice low, almost lost in the calm.

Joe’s breath ruffled her hair as he tilted his head down to speak. “The cuddles?” His voice was teasing, warm.

She grinned, her eyes half-closed in contentment. “The silence. But yeah... the cuddles don’t hurt either.”

Joe chuckled softly, the sound reverberating through his chest. Y/N smiled to herself, feeling his heartbeat steady beneath her ear. They were both still vibrating with the energy of the show, but in this small, quiet space, it didn’t matter. There were no cameras, no fans—just the two of them, tangled together in the aftermath of something incredible. Something real.

For a long moment, the room was just them. No pressure to speak, no need to fill the air with anything more than their presence. The energy from the performance still hummed faintly in Y/N’s bones, but here, in Joe’s arms, it softened. Slowed.

The peace, however, didn’t last long.

The door swung open with a sharp creak, and a familiar voice cut through the stillness.

“Please tell me they’re dressed for once,” Kayla groaned, her hand dramatically covering her eyes as if she’d just walked in on a scandalous affair.

Y/N's laughter bubbled up instantly, light and easy. “We’re dressed,” she said, her tone teasing, though she couldn’t quite wipe the smile off her face.

Joe’s arm tightened around her waist, pulling her just a little closer as he smirked, looking far too satisfied with himself. “What’s the problem? We’re in perfect post-show relaxation mode.”

Kayla peeked between her fingers, just enough to see them. “Oh, thank God. I can only walk in on you two so many times before I need therapy.” She collapsed into one of the nearby chairs with a playful roll of her eyes. “I swear, if I walk into one more green room and see y’all...” She shook her head, as if she could barely finish the thought.

Behind her, Carmen—Y/N’s ever-efficient manager—entered the room with a tablet in hand, her usual sharp focus softened just a little by the faintest smile tugging at the corners of her lips. She looked between Kayla and Y/N, raising an eyebrow at the situation.

“You know I could’ve scheduled this debrief for tomorrow, but someone”—Carmen’s eyes flicked pointedly to Kayla—“insisted she couldn’t wait.”

Kayla tossed her head back in mock indignation. “I just wanted to make sure we didn’t walk in on a live taping of After Hours with Joe and Y/N,” she quipped, a smirk dancing on her lips.

Y/N rolled her eyes but the smile never faltered. “You’re so dramatic.”

“Dramatic?” Kayla scoffed, flipping her hair over her shoulder as if she were offended. “Girl, please. I’m just mentally preparing for when TMZ catches y’all sneaking out of a hotel at dawn again.”

Y/N groaned, her hand resting against her forehead. “Oh God. Don’t even joke about that.”

Carmen chuckled under her breath, though even she couldn’t entirely hide the amusement behind her professional demeanor. She shot Kayla a look but kept her tone business-like. “Anyway,” she said, clearing her throat, “I’ll keep this short. The show was a huge success. Social media’s on fire. And that VIP acoustic set? Massive hit. But,” she glanced down at the tablet in her hand, where her gaze shifted momentarily to the next leg of the tour’s press schedule, “I do want to discuss press strategy for the upcoming shows. We’ll need to hit a few more key interviews, and I have some thoughts on how we can improve engagement leading into the next arena run.”

Y/N slowly shifted out of Joe’s arms, sitting up straighter on the couch. She felt the weight of the conversation settling in, the familiar pulse of her professional persona returning. She stretched her arms above her head, but as Carmen dove into the details of their next moves—logistics, dates, deadlines—Y/N reached out instinctively for Joe’s hand, her fingers brushing against his.

Without missing a beat, Joe’s hand closed around hers, his touch solid and reassuring. She glanced at him, catching his gaze—soft, warm, and filled with something deeper than simple admiration. There was no stage lights here. No cameras. No audience. Just them.

He squeezed her hand gently, and she felt that quiet pride in the way he looked at her. It wasn’t the pride of a fan or even a friend. It was something else, something entirely their own.

Y/N squeezed his hand back and gave him a small smile, her heart fluttering in her chest. In this room, in this moment, everything felt brighter.

For the next few minutes, Carmen spoke, but the words seemed to blur, fading into the background. Y/N’s attention kept drifting back to Joe, to the way he watched her as if she was the only one in the room. It wasn’t about the performance anymore. It wasn’t even about the crowd or the press or the next leg of the tour. It was about her. And him.

She leaned back into the couch again, a soft sigh escaping her lips. Joe followed her lead, shifting closer as she nestled back into his side. She closed her eyes for a moment, just breathing in the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath her ear.

Somewhere in the distance, Carmen continued talking logistics, Kayla was cracking jokes in the background, but for Y/N, it was all white noise. Right here, right now—this was the part of the night she’d remember.

This quiet, tender space where, for a few moments, everything was hers.

And Joe’s.

♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧♡+:•∴”:♡.•♬✧

The soft hum of the tour bus rumbled beneath them, the gentle rocking motion of the wheels on the interstate lulling the world outside into a sleepy haze. Dawn had barely broken, casting a pale light through the curtains that lined the windows. Yet inside the dimly lit bedroom at the back of the bus, time seemed to have slowed to a crawl—held hostage by the warmth of shared quiet moments.

Joe was flat on his back, eyes half-lidded, his body still heavy with the weight of sleep that clung to him like a familiar blanket. But if he were being honest, the real reason he wasn’t getting up was the weight of the woman wrapped entirely around his body.

Y/N.

She was a tangle of limbs—arms wrapped tightly around his torso, legs intertwined with his beneath the covers, her face pressed into the crook of his neck, as though trying to absorb every inch of him. It was a human octopus situation, and Joe didn’t have the heart to complain. There was something about the feeling of her so close, so entirely wrapped around him, that made him want to just stay like this forever. But... duty called.

“I really have to get up, babe,” Joe murmured, his voice still thick with sleep as he shifted slightly beneath her, his body unwilling to give up the warmth and comfort. “Flight’s in a couple hours.”

Y/N didn’t budge. Her lips barely brushed the skin of his neck as she mumbled, “No.”

Joe couldn’t help the small chuckle that slipped out. He tried to wiggle free, only for her grip to tighten around him like a boa constrictor. “I gotta be at practice. You know, for the actual football team I play for?” he added, a teasing edge to his voice.

“No,” she repeated, her voice muffled by the warmth of his chest, refusing to let go.

Joe raised an eyebrow, amusement flickering in his sleep-heavy gaze. He shifted again, this time with more effort. “You know I can pick you up, right?” he asked, already knowing what would come next.

“Oh, I know,” Y/N purred, the playful tone of her voice making him shiver slightly. She lifted her head just enough to smirk down at him, her dark eyes glittering with mischief. “You trying to pin me to the wall, Burrow? That’s a little naughty of you so early in the morning.”

Joe laughed softly, shaking his head in disbelief, though his grin was quick to follow. He let his eyes close again, feigning exhaustion. “Jesus, you are a menace.”

“Mmhm,” she hummed, settling back into the crook of his neck with a satisfied little sigh. “You like it.”

“I do,” he admitted quietly, his lips curling into a fond smile. “But I really need to get up.”

She still didn’t move.

“The quicker you let go, the quicker I’m back with you,” he tried again, shifting, trying to slide from beneath her. But it was no use—Y/N had him firmly trapped. He wasn’t sure whether to be amused or impressed by the fact that she could hold him in place so effectively without even breaking a sweat.

"You know I don’t want to go, but I have to,” Joe whispered.

Y/N grunted as she held onto him tighter. She was not ready to lose the warmth.

“Let me hold him at least, before you go,” she said with a pout.

Joe huffed in amusement. “Oh, him, huh?” he questioned.

She nodded her head that was laying back on his shoulder. “Yeah, him. Not you.” She said as her hand traveled down to the elastic band of Joe’s sweatpants.

“How can you deprive a girl, Joseph?” she whined when he lightly slapped her hand away from teasing his waistband. “You do that and I’ll miss my flight,” he said. She let out a sigh of defeat and rested her hand onto his cock through the fabric of his pants.

“Not my fault you have me hooked, baby. Now pull him out,” she demanded.

“When did you become so insatiable?” Joe chuckled.

“Come on, I can feel him getting hard and I want to see him before you have to leave." She begged.

“You know this could be considered kidnapping,” Joe said, shaking his head in disbelief. How could one woman be so demanding? He thought to himself.

She shook her head. “Nope. You enjoy being around me too much for that. Besides, I’m not holding onto you to keep you here forever. Just a little longer,” Y/N said as she once again tried to sneak her hand down the front of his sweats.

Joe groaned playfully. “Y/N! Damn, I’ve spoiled you too much,” he said as he grabbed her hand again. “No, you can’t see him,” he said sternly, but she knew he was enjoying the attention.

She pouted and went back to holding onto Joe. He couldn’t leave her like this.

“Are you really gonna pout like a child?” Joe asked as he looked down at her.

“No,” y/n said, but she was really pouting like a child. She didn’t want him to leave.

“Not even a quickie?” she asked, lifting her head to look at him. Her eyes were pleading for him to give in and stay a little longer.

“You literally had me not even an hour before. You’re going to wear me out,” Joe said with a laugh.

She just stared at him for a second. The silence between the two was deafening until y/n finally spoke up. “So?” she said.

Just having him against her and looking at her was driving her wild. She needed to have him again. He was her drug of choice, and she needed another fix.

Joe shook his head, trying to fight the urge to give in to her. “What about 69?” she asked.

“Come on, Joey, work with me here, please,” she begged. She could see Joe fighting every urge in his body that was telling him to take her. God, he wanted to, but he couldn’t risk missing his flight back to Cincinnati.

“You have to be the most selfish girl I’ve ever met,” he laughed, shaking his head.

She smiled. “I’m only selfish when it comes to him,” you said, pointing towards the tent in his sweatpants.

Joe rolled his eyes and went to speak.

But then—chomp.

Joe yelped slightly as Y/N, still not letting go, decided to bite his shoulder, not hard enough to hurt, but definitely enough to make her point clear.

“Seriously?” he laughed, still trying to shift, though the laughter made it hard to do anything but enjoy her playful retaliation. “You bite people when they leave?”

Y/N lifted her head just enough to gaze at him with mock innocence in her eyes. Her lips grazed the faint red mark she’d left on his shoulder. “Only you,” she said sweetly, leaning down to press a soft kiss to the spot. “You keep trying to escape, I gotta defend myself.”

Joe’s lips twitched, a slow, fond smile spreading across his face as he stared down at her. “You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered, shaking his head.

Y/N waggled her eyebrows, her voice a low whisper against his chest. “But what a way to go.”

His heart swelled a little at her words, the teasing and the warmth coiling in his chest like something he wanted to hold on to for as long as possible. He reached up, tucking a stray curl—damp from the shower and still slightly wild—behind her ear. His hand lingered there, just for a moment, as if to memorize the feeling of her close, of this moment.

“You really don’t make this easy,” he said, his voice softer now, more vulnerable than he would have liked to admit.

Y/N beamed, practically glowing with pride, before leaning up to kiss his jaw. “That’s because I don’t want you to go.”

Her words settled between them, quiet but heavy. Joe could feel the weight of it—the sincerity in her voice that spoke volumes. He swallowed thickly, his chest tightening as he let his eyes flutter closed. He didn’t want to leave either. But he had to. The demands of his career, of his responsibilities, tugged at him relentlessly.

But right here, right now... this was what he wanted.

“I don’t want to go either,” he said, his voice thick with the truth of it. And for a fleeting moment, the space between them felt almost too small for the emotions he could barely put into words.

Y/N, sensing the shift, nestled back into his chest, her breath evening out as she relaxed against him. She wrapped her arms around him again, her head resting just below his chin.

“Five more minutes,” she murmured, her voice still tinged with sleep.

Joe exhaled, his fingers tracing small patterns along her back as if to mark time in a way that didn’t require a clock. “Five,” he agreed with a soft chuckle.

But they both knew—it’d be ten. At least.

The outside world continued on—trains passing, cars honking, and the rhythm of the road beneath them. But in the back of that bus, under the heavy blankets and amidst the quiet hum of the engine, time seemed to stretch.

It wasn’t a goodbye. Not yet.

Just five more minutes. And then ten. And maybe, just maybe, they'd steal a few more before the world called for them both.

JB9 Taglist: @lilfreakjez, @dasia21, @superanastasia1981, @gg-trini, @wickedfun9, @irishmanwhore, @danielle143

[anakinstwinklebunny]

PAIRING: sam monroe x pregnant!reader

author's note: it actually was a request!

FLUFF ❦

The late afternoon sun bathed the garden in a soft, golden hue, casting long shadows over the freshly bloomed tulips you've planted the last summer. They swayed gently in the breeze while the laughter echoed from the yard—a familiar, heartwarming sound.

You leaned against the doorway, watching as Vinnie, or more suitablyVincent, crouched on the grass, helping his toddler balance as they toddled forward on wobbly legs in searching for the chocolate eggs you spend over an hour hiding with Sam. His wife sat nearby, leg-crossed on the freshly cut grass, laughing as their little one shrieked in delight, chubby arms reaching out toward the flowers where one eggs was hiding.

Your breath hitched. It felt like a lifetime ago that Vinnie was the one taking his first steps on unsteady feet, holding onto Sam’s fingers for dear life. Now, he was the one steadying someone else, guiding them, protecting them.

Your hand tightened around the doorframe as tears stung your eyes.

You didn't hear SAM MONROE’s quiet footsteps as he approached from behind, letting his hands sliding around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder. "What’s goin’ on, huh?" he murmured, voice low and gruff but laced with concern, as if he already knew something was off about you

You didn’t answer immediately, just let your eyes linger on the scene outside. The way Vinnie scooped his child up, spun them around until their laughter turned to squeals, until watching the happiness unfolding before you was too much to bear.

"He’s so grown up," you finally choked out, voice breaking.

Sam pressed a kiss to your temple. "Yeah. Kid’s doin’ good, though," he said softly.

You nodded, but the lump in your throat only grew. "Better than us," you whispered with your voice trembling. "He’s… such a good man, Sam. Better than we ever were. So patient, so kind."

Sam stiffened slightly, hand slipping under your shirt to rest on your stomach, stroking the skin there. "Hey," he muttered, voice softening. "Don’t do that. Don’t sell yourself short. You raised him. We raised him, and we definitely weren't that bad" a scoff left his mouth

"But he’s more than I ever imagined. And now he has his own family, and it’s like…" voice cracked, befofe you let out a shaky breath. "It’s like he’s slipping through my fingers, Sam."

Sam’s lips pressed against your neck, lingering there, before gently pulling away "He’s not slippin’ away," he said firmly. "He’s just… growin’ into his own. That’s what we wanted, wasn’t it? For him to be happy? To have this?"

You sniffled, leaning back into his chest, finding comfort in his presence. "I just miss him being my little boy," you admitted, hand reaching up to clutch his. "I miss when it was just us."

Sam was quiet for a moment, thumb brushing soothing circles against your skin. "Yeah," he said finally with his own voice barely holding onto a thin line before cracking. "Me too. But he’s still ours, y’know? Always will be. Even when he’s someone else’s, he’s still ours."

"Remember when he peed on you that one time you tried to change him?" you said with a shaky laugh, tears now streaming down your face. "You were so mad, but he just giggled like it was the funniest thing in the world. And his first word," you choked out, your shoulders shaking. "It wasn’t ‘dada’ or ‘mama.’ It was ‘mine.’" your hand flew to your mouth, hoping to quiet a sob that escaped. "And now… now I can’t even hold him on my lap anymore," you whispered, the grief of time’s passing clawing at your chest. "I can’t scoop him up and kiss his chubby cheeks, can’t hear that little shriek he used to make when I’d tickle him under his chin."

Sam’s grip on you tightened, his other hand sliding up to cup your face, turning you towards him. "Hey," he said firmly again "Don’t do this to yourself."

"I can’t help it," you sobbed, burying your face in his chest. "He’s not my baby anymore, Sam. He’s a grown man with a wife and a child, and I—I don’t know when it happened."

Sam’s hand cradled the back of your head, his lips pressing against your hair. His eyes searched the area before him, as if silently hoping something or someone will suddenly pour smart words into his mouth "It happened slow," he murmured. "One day at a time. You just didn’t notice ‘cause you were too busy lovin’ him." Your tears soaked into his shirt as you clung to him, feeling how the weight of years hung low and pressed you down over your chest

Outside, Vinnie’s toddler squealed, and you glanced up just in time to see Vinnie lift them into the air, spinning them around the way Sam used to spin him. The sight made your knees weak, and you leaned more heavily into Sam.

"Look at him," Sam murmured. "That’s the boy we raised. That’s your baby out there, makin’ memories like the ones you’re cryin’ about now."

You nodded, tears still falling but your heart aching a little less. "He’s a good man," you whispered.

Sam’s lips pressed to the corner of your mouth before moving to your neck, his touch lingering, tender. "He is," he said softly. You sobbed gently against Sam's chest, feeling his calloused hand stroke and pat your back in a comforting manner. The sound of Vinnie’s toddler squealing again brought your attention back to the garden. You just couldn't help it. The sound was so so familiar to the one that rang in your ears as memories replied in your head. You watched how Vinnie caught your eye through the window, flashing you a grin that was so achingly familiar it made your chest tighten again.

Sam kissed your cheek, his other hand slipping lower, grounding you. "C’mon," he murmured "Let’s go out there before you start cryin’ all over me." You laughed wetly, swatting his arm, but let him lead you outside. Watching Vinnie with his child, surrounded by love and laughter, you couldn’t help but feel a pang of bittersweet pride.

TAG LIST: @kingdomhate @divineani @haydensprettyprincess @skyguys-princess @catnipaddictt @heartscone @haydensbbg @inneedsoffanfics @jediavengers @babybell-cheese @anisluvrgirl @slutforfinnickodair @xhunnybeeex @fuckmyskywalker @gallerygourmet @ysrjune @anakinskwkler @cookybananas @emotionallybruisedx @diorvalentina @sevinax @throughparisallthroughrome @aniiuv @ritosparty @ninastyless @lily-strnlo @thesassypadawan @awhhayden @sydkneez @anisangeldust @l1ttle-misssunsh1ne @anakinca @rubiesarepretty @luluartpop @cloverina @nikiloveshayden @cherriies-snake @skywalkerssgirl @fredswrite

[joelsmorgan]

ఇ - joel miller masterlist, part two.

✦ one shots.

oh, baby | strangers to lovers, single parents - by @/oldsoul007

you're a daydream, stay a while | strangers to lovers - by @/dilf-docks

sweet recipe | established, secret relationship - by @/hellishjoel

outage | neighbors to lovers-ish, pwp - by @/taeslarityy

listen to that fireplace roar | established relationship, pwop - by @/keeryhours

innocent slip of the knee | partners to lovers, pwop - by @/starzlightsx

taking what's mine | established relationship - by @/eveomo

save a horse | pwop - by @/siriuslylantsov

a firm partner | pwop - by @/whocaresstillthelouvre

texas morning | established relationship - by @/maybvalentine

just this once | neighbors to ?, dbf!joel - by @/punkshort

watching | partners to fwb - by @/worhols

oh, your love is sunlight | partners to lovers-ish, pwop - by @/joelspeach

forbidden fire | established, secret relationship, dbf!joel - by @/joelspeach

i'm happy where the devils are | dbf!joel - by @/dilf-docs

world's worst chauffeur | dbf!joel, pwop - by @/ilikeevilblondes

when the leaves turn | acquaintances to lovers - by @/pandapetals

tongues and teeth | strangers to lovers - by @/pencil-n-pen

this is me trying | established relationship - by @/majerstyverlasting

still here with me | savior!reader - by @/layaispunk

stormy night | babysitter!reader, pwop - by @/cinnxmxngxrl

back pain | established relationship, pwp - by @/greenwitchfromthewoods

✦ series.

mine | strangers to lovers - by @/moeswriting wondering why we bother with love - chapter one. we were sitting there by the water - chapter two. we'll never make my parent's mistakes - chapter three. you saw me start to believe - chapter four. you are the best thing - chapter five. braced myself for the goodbye - chapter six. she is the best thing that's ever been mine - chapter seven. i can see it now - epilogue.

ma'am | partners to lovers, pwp - by @/mssalo ma'am - part one. after hours - part two.

if i ever were to lose you | strangers to lovers - by @/joelspeach chapter one. chapter two. chapter three. chapter four. chapter five.

i couldn't want you anymore | fake dating, enemies to lovers - by @/stylesispunk prologue. chapter one. chapter two. chapter three. chapter four. chapter five. chapter six. chapter seven. chapter eight. chapter nine. chapter ten. chapter eleven. chapter twelve.

last christmas | exes to lovers - by @/stylesispunk part one. part two.

family matters | idk how to tag this atm lol - by @/daryltwdixon part one. part two. part three. part four. part four point five. part five. part six.

total count: 28. (63 links)

more on the last of us | joel miller, part one | ellie williams | abby anderson | jesse

my masterlist of recommendations.

i’m going to keep updating this list as i read more!

last update: 2/05/2025

[yunazxxx]

only know you love her when you let her go — megan skiendiel

she tried to convince herself it wasn’t that bad, i mean, all good things must come to an end right? so why did she still miss you so much.

(📓) angst , breakups , misunderstanding / miscommunication , megan thinks you’re happier without her , cursing , etc maybe?

(🧦) i’ve been in such an angsty mood when it comes to megan i really cannot do this anymore. smth with comfort, or fluffy angst w her is js in my mind.

(wc) 0.7k — prev katz works

—

"i think you'll be happier this way" — those words rung through your head like an annoying tune, those were the last words you heard from megan when she broke up with you. it's been two months by now, and you still haven't let her go.

megan hasn't let you go either, she loved you so much but after a while she began to feel like you wanted something better than her so she let you go. — which wasn’t the best idea.

ever since she last spoke to you, she couldn’t operate the same. every second of the day she was thinking of you, thinking if you missed her, if you loved her, if anything that happened between you two was real.

it began affecting her personal life not even a week later, you weren’t blocked from her socials so she’d see your friends posting you out with them and it made her heart ache.

she was happy you were fine, you had been stressed for months now, but she couldn’t let go of that fact that she couldn’t help you. — that she wasn’t the one to make you happy. it made her feel even worse now seeing you post breakup, happy and smiling.

but she saw your note, the one on instagram, the weird new “status feature” and it said — i miss you so much meimei — honestly, you had a nickname for one of your pets, you called her meimei, it was the cat you and megan adopted. but megan just assumed that’s who it was for.

she tried staying off of her phone, knowing that would kinda be the only time she’d ever see you, but then while walking the streets of los angeles, she bumped into a familiar person.

“god, i’m so sorry” megan said, not even looking up, but reaching her hands out to help the person up. she picked up whatever was on the floor, an awkward smile plastered on her face when she looked up to hand the papers over — “megan?”

she just looked into the eyes of the person, those eyes were way too familiar. “hey!” she said, trying to play this off but it was so awkward..

somehow she ended up in a cafe with you, and you guys had the long awaited talk, what happened. — “you know, that day” you started, “it was hard for me, imagine getting that text from the one person who you loved” you said, a dry chuckle coming out of your throat but you just sighed, looking at megan.

she was nervous — if that wasn’t already obvious, her fingers were fidgeting, biting the insides of her cheeks, legs bouncing, her eyes darted across the room. “mei..” you softly said, pulling her attention to you.

your hand rested on hers, “you know, i still love you right?” and she nodded, “tell me that you know that, please” you begged, honestly you swore to yourself you’d never beg anyone to love you back or believe you loved them after your previous relationship played you but there was something with megan you couldn’t just let go.

"i love you too y/n, i just felt like you didn't want m-" you shushed her, "megan, what are you talking about? i love you, so much. you're my entire world, god, i was fucking living for you, and only you" you said, a tear sliding down your cheek.

megan began to frown, she still hated seeing you cry, it was one of the worst experinces she's ever had, "(y/n), i'm sorry i was overthinking i just thought you didn't like me anymore. i love you so much too" she said, bringing her hand to your cheek before using her thumb to wipe your tears.

"you're so precious to me, you know?" she softly said, she held your hand tighter, "please, can we just restart? try again and make things right this time?" megan asked, you could hear in her voice she was on the verge of crying, forcing herself to speak clearly to you.

"yes, of course. i love you, i can't say no. i can't do this anymore, not without you." you softly whispered, bringing her hand to your lips, planting a small kiss.

[xmads-omensx]

Pairing: Noah Sebastian X Reader

CW: mentions of exhaustion, feeling overwhelmed, mentions of feeling overstimulated, crying, comfort, Noah is a sweetheart

Tags: @shayeanna-ashlie @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @supersquirrel1996 @dontwantthemoney @tosoundlessdarkistare @bloody-spades @klutzy-kay24 @heyyoplayer @lacy1986 @collidewiththesav @kenjipepsi1 @follow-me-down-to-wonderland @chey-h @thisbicc @fadingangelwisp @heyyoplayer @dsireland86 @missduffsblog @overmydeadbodysblog @dominuslunae @littlebear423 @blade-dressed-in-red @rumoured-whispers @eclipseeetop @xxkittenkissesxx @theanarchymuse95 @blackveilomens @lilgarbitch @lil-garbitch @concretejunglefm @museonfilm @death-ofpeace-ofmind @xxkatsatwatwafflexx @kissestomyomens @flowery-mess @athenexe @oobleoob @dollieomens @astronoids @pipidoll

Noah knew your schedule better than his own at this point in your relationship.

You hadn’t been together long at all but there was just something about your routine that clicked for Noah.

Anyway.

You were away at university all day that day, until 4:30pm when your final class ended and you usually got home for about 5:00pm.

However, when you came through the door at 2:30pm, Noah was instantly on high alert.

Your movements sounded slower and heavier than usual as you made your way into Noah’s house where you usually found yourself on a Friday evening so that you could stay the weekend.

He heard you kick your shoes off haphazardly before you dumped your bangs to the floor with a loud thump.

He cautiously made his way down the stairs to see you in the entranceway, gathering up your wallet, pencil case and a few papers that had fallen out of your bag.

“Hey you’re home early.” Noah greeted with a smile, walking over to you to kiss and hug you as he usually did.

Calling his space your home was his favourite thing ever. He had even begun considering asking you to move in full time.

His place was closer to campus and that coffee shop you liked to stop off at on your way in anyway.

“Yeah.” You replied simply with a sigh.

“Hey… what’s up?” He asked, reaching out to tuck a strand of hair that had come loose behind your ear.

“I just…” Noah could see the tears beginning to well up in your eyes.

Without so much as a second thought, Noah placed his large hands on your shoulder and pulled you in close to his chest, hugging you tight as the tears began to flow.

He rested his cheek on the top of your head, telling you that you’d be ok as your body was wracked with sobs.

“Overwhelmed?” He asked quietly. You nodded.

“The library was… too hot… and the cafe was.. too loud.” You said between sobs.

“Oh honey.” Noah replied, rubbing your back.

“And the strap on my beg kept rubbing. And then the books got too heavy. Then my shopping bag ripped. There were too many people and it was all too much and I can’t do this anymore cause it was too hot and my top didn’t feel right anymore and-“

Noah cut you off with a gentle kiss.

“Baby breathe.” He instructed.

You followed his directions as your heart rate slowed and your breathing evened out.

“Thank you.” You whispered.

“Don’t need to thank me Princess.” Noah replied. “It’s what I’m here for.”

You spent the rest of the night decompressing as Noah held you tightly to him when you needed it and left you to starfish out on the bed when you needed to feel the coolness of the sheets on your body.

He didn’t mind.

As long as it kept you happy, safe and healthy, he was willing to let you cope however you needed.

After all, you were his to protect.

And god did he love protecting you.

[lost-in-thoughts03]

Falling for you // Hwang brothers

Previous part:

Summary: The late-night conversation with In-ho and a reflection on the conflicts you have witnessed between the brothers. You are already finding the answers, and all you need is a little alone time before letting go.

" And I'm terrified for the first time and the last time in my only life."

Warnings: Angst, reflection, heartbreak, self-doubt, hesitation, crying, guilt, clarification, confession, grammatical errors

Your phone buzzed in your hand, the name Mr. Angry bird (In-ho) flashing across the screen. You stared at it for a moment, debating whether to answer.

After the conversation with Ji-hye, your mind was a mess, and you weren’t sure if you were ready to hear his voice.

But you answered anyway.

“ Why the hell are you calling me so late?” You grumbled, flopping onto your bed.

A low chuckle came from the other end. “ Missed me already?”

You rolled your eyes. “ Not in the slightest.”

He hummed, unconvinced. “ Then why’d you pick it up?”

Damn it.

You had no comeback for that.

Instead, you groaned, rubbing your forehead. “ Ugh, whatever. Since you’re here, let me ask you something.”

“ Go ahead.” He said, amused.

You hesitated for a second before blurting out,

“ Why me?”

Silence.

Then, a slow, exasperated sigh from In-ho. “ Here we go…”

“ I’m serious, In-ho.” You pressed.

“ Why…” You close your eyes, holding back the ache in your throat,

“ Why didn’t you make a move before? All those years…you were always there but you never…said anything.”

“ Why did you keep choosing me even after all the times I pushed you away? Why…did you stay?”

The line goes quiet. You hear a shaky exhale from his end.

“ I was scared.” He admits, his voice breaking.

“ You were so young back then…and me? I was already…older. I fell in love with you at the worst possible time.”

“ You were just this… bright, lively young adult chasing dreams. And I— I didn’t want to be the selfish bastard who ruins that.”

You bite your lip hard, tears filling your eyes.

In-ho continues, “ I kept thinking…what would everyone say? What would the world say if a man like me…dared to love someone younger? I didn’t want to be that person.”

“ So…I hid it. Every damn day, I buried it. Every time you smiled at me, every time you ran to my side…I wanted to hold you, tell you how much I loved you. But I couldn’t.”

His voice cracks. “ I couldn’t risk your dreams…or you looking at me like I was some…creep. So, I stayed where I thought was safe—for you.”

Your lips trembled, “ Then why didn’t you give up…when I kept pushing you away?”

“ I tried.” In-ho laughs bitterly,

“ God, I tried so many times…but every time I walked away, I’d find myself worrying about you. Wondering if you ate, if you cried, if you were happy. I couldn’t stop.”

“ No matter how much it hurt, I loved you more than my own pride.”

Silence falls, heavy and suffocating.

“ You always choose me…” You whisper, tears streaming down your cheeks.

“ Even when I didn’t deserve it.”

“ I chose you then, I choose you now…and I’ll choose you every damn day.” In-ho breathes, voice breaking,

“ I don’t care about the world anymore. I don’t care if they call me names or judge me…All I care about is you…living. Smiling. Happy. Even if it’s not with me.”

Your sob escapes before you can stop it.

“ In-ho…don’t ever say not with you…don’t…” You plead, voice cracking.

He stays quiet, but you can hear him crying too.

He chuckled. “ Are you crying?”

“ No.” You lied.

“ Liar.”

You huffed, sniffling. “ You’re really annoying, you know that?”

“ And yet, you haven’t hung up.”

You sighed, pressing your forehead against your pillow. He was right. You could have ended the call at any time, but you didn’t.

Because despite all the confusion, despite the mess in your heart, there was one undeniable truth.

You didn’t want him to go.

“…Can I ask you something?” You murmured.

“ Of course.”

You hesitated. “ If I choose you…are you sure you won’t regret it?”

His response was immediate.

“ I’ve never been more sure of anything in my life.”

A long silence stretched between you, filled only by the sound of your breathing.

Finally, you whispered, “ Okay.”

“…Okay?”

You exhaled. “ Okay.”

And though it wasn’t a confession, though it wasn’t the grand answer he might have wanted—In-ho smiled.

Because for now, it was enough.

The silence that followed your quiet "okay" felt different—heavy, but not suffocating. It was like the weight of uncertainty was shifting, making room for something new.

Something that scared you just as much as it intrigued you.

On the other end of the line, In-ho let out a slow breath, as if he had been holding it the entire time.

" Okay." He echoed, and you could hear the faintest smile in his voice.

" I can work with that."

You scoffed, rolling onto your back. " You sound too smug for someone who just got the vaguest acceptance in history."

He chuckled. " I'll take what I can get. Besides, you're not exactly the easiest person to convince, you know?"

You bit your lip.

He wasn’t wrong.

Your mind was still a mess, tangled with memories of Jun-ho and the feelings you had held onto for years.

But then there was In-ho—always there, always waiting.

His patience, his persistence…his unwavering certainty in you.

Maybe your heart wasn’t fully ready yet, but maybe…just maybe, it was trying to be.

" Y/n." He murmured, his voice softer now.

" I’m not rushing you. I just want you to know…I'm not going anywhere."

A lump formed in your throat. " Yeah, I know."

" Good." He said, his tone lighter again.

" Now, are you going to get some sleep, or do I have to come over there and tuck you in myself?"

You snorted. " You wouldn’t dare."

" Oh, I would. You underestimate my commitment to annoying you."

Rolling your eyes, you sighed. " Fine, fine. I’ll try to sleep."

" Try?"

" Shut up, In-ho."

He laughed, and somehow, the sound felt like home.

" Goodnight, sweetheart." He said, voice softer this time.

You closed your eyes, a small smile playing on your lips.

" Goodnight, In-ho."

And for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel so lost.

The call ended, but his words lingered—

“ I choose you now…and I’ll choose you every damn day.”

You sat there, phone resting on your lap, staring blankly at the floor as his voice replayed in your head—raw, vulnerable, full of years’ worth of love he tried so hard to hide.

And that’s when it hit you—hard.

It wasn’t Jun-ho who stayed.

It wasn’t Jun-ho who saw every version of you—broken, angry, hopeless—and chose to stay even when you pushed him away.

It was In-ho.

You used to believe that first love meant everything.

That the person you fell for first would always own the biggest part of your heart.

But…what did that even mean anymore?

What good was a love that stood still—paralyzed by fear, selfishness, or timing—while someone else bled for you every single day without asking for anything back?

Your chest clenched as fresh tears spilled, but this time…they weren’t just from heartbreak.

They were from guilt.

From relief.

From finally seeing the truth you kept blinding yourself from.

It was In-ho all along.

The man who chose silence over ruining your dreams.

The man who stood at the sidelines, loving you quietly, waiting for you to grow into the person you are now.

The man who, even now, was ready to disappear just to save you.

Your fingers curled into your chest as if trying to hold your heart together.

You sobbed—not because of the pain—but because of the realization:

You’ve already found your home. You’ve already found your person. And he’s been there this entire time...waiting.

You whispered into the empty room, voice shaking,

“ I…I’m so stupid…I kept chasing someone who didn’t stay, while the one who did…I kept pushing him away.”

The moonlight cast soft shadows across your face as you closed your eyes, breathing deeply.

For the first time, you weren’t confused.

You weren’t torn.

You knew who your heart was calling out for.

“ In-ho…it’s you. It’s always been you.”

You smiled through your tears, gripping your phone tightly, whispering into the night—hoping he’d hear you somehow.

“ Wait for me…I’ll tell you soon. I promise…I’ll choose you too.”

...

In-ho sat on the edge of his bed, phone still clutched in his trembling hands. His heart was pounding—not from excitement, not from relief—but from fear.

Your words replayed in his mind, over and over, like a puzzle he couldn’t solve.

" Why didn’t you make a move before?"

" Why do you keep choosing me, even when I pushed you away?"

He answered honestly.

But something about the way you asked…it didn’t sit right with him.

Like there was something you weren’t saying.

With a deep, shuddering breath, he ran a hand down his face, trying to clear his thoughts.

The weight of everything—of you, of Jun-ho, of the years he spent loving you in silence—was suffocating him.

A soft knock at his door broke through his spiraling thoughts.

" In-ho." His mother’s gentle voice came before she pushed the door open.

She carried a small cup of steaming tea, the familiar scent of chamomile filling the air.

“ You’re still awake?” She asked, setting the cup down on his nightstand.

“ You look…troubled.”

In-ho let out a dry chuckle, rubbing the back of his neck. “ That obvious, huh?”

His mother sat beside him, hands folded neatly in her lap, her eyes—soft, understanding—watching him closely.

“ Something’s on your mind.” She said simply.

“ And I have a feeling I already know what it is.”

In-ho swallowed.

His mother had always been perceptive.

There was no use hiding it.

With a deep sigh, he leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees. “ Mom…what if…what if I’m setting myself up to lose?”

His mother tilted her head. “ Lose what, my son?”

In-ho let out a shaky breath. “ Her.”

Her expression didn’t change, but he saw the way her fingers twitched slightly—like she had expected this but still wasn’t sure how to approach it.

“ I love her, Eomma.” He admitted, voice barely above a whisper.

“ I loved her then, I love her now, and I—” His voice caught, emotions swelling in his chest.

“ I don’t know what to do anymore.”

His mother sighed, reaching over to place a warm hand on his knee. “ In-ho… I knew.”

He lifted his head sharply, eyes wide. “ You—”

“ I knew.” She repeated with a soft, bittersweet smile.

“ I saw it before you ever said anything. The way you looked at her, the way your whole face changed when she was around. You never had to tell me, my dear. A mother knows.”

In-ho exhaled shakily. “ Then you also know…she loved Jun-ho first.”

His mother’s expression darkened slightly, sadness creeping into her eyes. “ Yes.”

“ Then tell me, Eomma…what do I do?” He pleaded.

“ What if—what if after everything, after all these years, she still chooses him?”

His mother took a long moment before responding.

She reached out, taking his hands in hers.

“ In-ho…love is not about winning or losing.”

He clenched his jaw. “ Then what is it?”

“ It’s about giving.” She said softly.

“ Giving, even when there’s no certainty of receiving. You have already given her so much, my son."

" And if she chooses you, it will not be because you fought for her—it will be because she wants to be with you. That is love.”

In-ho’s breath hitched.

“ But…” She continued, hesitating now.

“ I also know that Jun-ho…he struggled with this too.”

In-ho stiffened. “ What?”

His mother’s expression was pained.

“ When he saw you two kiss…he was devastated. He came home drunk, crying, rambling about how he should’ve known, how he should’ve realized sooner."

" And then… he told me.”

“ Told you what?” In-ho demanded.

“ That you love her.”

Silence.

His heartbeat thundered in his ears.

Jun-ho knew.

He had known.

Even before In-ho admitted it to himself, even before he gathered the courage to act on his feelings, Jun-ho knew.

“ He was hurting.” His mother murmured.

“ And when I saw the bruise on your face after…I worried. I worried that my sons were breaking apart over love.”

In-ho clenched his fists. “ We were. We still might be.”

His mother shook her head. “ Not if you both choose to hold onto what truly matters.”

In-ho swallowed thickly, his throat burning. “And what if what matters most to me…is her?”

His mother’s eyes softened even more.

“ Then you wait. You wait for her to find her way. And if she chooses you, In-ho…it won’t be because of guilt, or because you pushed her."

" It will be because she truly wants to be with you.”

A tear slipped down In-ho’s cheek before he could stop it.

He was so scared.

Scared that you’d choose Jun-ho.

Scared that he would lose his brother again.

Scared that the love he carried for so many years would never be fully returned.

His mother squeezed his hands gently.

“ Whatever happens, my son…love her in a way that doesn’t make her feel like she’s a prize to be won. Love her in a way that makes her feel free.”

He closed his eyes, breathing deeply.

And for the first time in a long time…he let himself believe that maybe—just maybe—love wasn’t about who deserved whom.

Maybe it was about who stayed—who fought, who endured, and who was willing to love without conditions.

And he already knew his answer.

N/A: Y/n and Jun-ho met when they were 16. In-ho, on the other hand, began to like her when she reached her legal age—around the time Y/n was in her twenties. (I need to clarify this to avoid misunderstandings between the characters)

Y/n and Jun-ho's age right now: 23 (College students)

In-ho's age right now: 30 (I need to lower down his age to make it more accurate)

Tags: @maah-sama @colorwastaken @astronomicalastro-blog1 @nina357 @frontwomann

See u in part 22! 🔥

[redrumrose]

Now for the actual question:

Pavel, what's the longest and shortest one of your ex-nurses has lasted? Care to share what went wrong?

"Papa's busy at the moment, and even if he wasn't, he seldom talks of his past failures. But I'd be more then happy to answer."

"Number 1 was by far the shortest lived nurse because she was far too curious. You know the old saying about cats and curiosity? Well it happened to her."

"Number 2 was far too confident and hardly heeded warnings, which is foolish in papa's hospital. Never know what could be stored in these old labs."

"Number 3 succumbed to auntie's odd serums. After such an incident, papa banned auntie from experimenting on his assistants."

"Number 4 was too hesitant with things. And while that's good to some extent to keep you safe, too much hesitancy can be just as dangerous. Especially when dealing with the things papa creates."

"5 barely listened to papa's important lessons, and if there's one rule you should always listen to, is to always listen to papa's lessons. He dropped her to the lower levels of the hospital where all patients become useful one way or another."

"Number 6 became too disturbed by something she saw I suppose. She vanished in terror into the night, never to be found again… or maybe she was."

"And 7, poor 7. We cats of Hospital 11 loved her so, but the lab equipment didn't love her as much it seems."

"Finally Number 8… had such promise, but she upset papa and auntie the most. She stole their notes and knowledge, and attempted to flee with it before papa caught her. Why? Well no one will ever know now."

"After 8, papa and auntie swore not to take on anymore assistants, but there's something about number 9 that made them reconsider. I suppose I see it, she gives the best chin scratches and serves the best diner to us cats. But now only time will tell if she becomes another folder in Hospital 11's files."

"And our longest surviving nurse? She was actually never papa's assistant. Katya was originally auntie's assistant, but she was also too frightened of the goes on around here. Her scaredy-cat nature must be what's kept her around... I completely relate! Now she spends most of her days just assisting in simple surgeries and keeping Tchaikovsky, the hospital lobby cat, company."

"From one cat to another, I hope that satisfies your curiosity! Now if you'll pardon me, it's time for a nap."

[musette22]

Sorry for my rambling but the resurgence of ppl who hate Steve’s ending on TikTok got me thinking again.

Why do people insist Steve was still a man out of time 10 years into the MCU and he didn’t adapt to the future? Why do they keep pretending like Steve loved living in the past bc “it was the past society he was missing” and not bf he woke up all alone and confused, PTSD’d to hell 70 years in the future, ALONE.

Chris said it himself when he said Steve finds his found family in the future. He has Sam, Natasha, treats Wanda as a lil sister. Then he does everything, including defying all governments and becoming a criminal to get his best friend back. Steve is very much adapted and he doesn’t long for the past. Sure, he misses people. The commandos all died and he never got to see the . Peggy aged and got sick (and let’s be real, he pretty much says goodbye to her in tws and she tells him to move on and live his own life and then suddenly in endgame BAM he’s not over her again? When he’s been just fine the past few movies?? Like sure her death was sad for him but hes not longing after her? All he is focused on is *checks notes* saving Bucky and defying the government.

It’s just such a superficial and lazy read of Steve’s initial “man out of time” schtick to keep reducing him to someone who could never adapt to the progressive future when he is in fact the most progressive avenger. Steve does not long for the past because he thinks it was a better time but bc he was abruptly ripped out of it. But not once do we ever see him struggle to adapt again. He does not even long after Peggy and is happy she got to live her own happy life. Where does this “Steve needs to live in the past to be happy” trope come from, and why did the Russo brothers fall for it too? How is Steve not a man out of time again in the 50s when he’s already used to the future?

Steve “the past is for fossils” Rogers’s final ending is to retract all his progress and fuck off to the past and ditch his found family, sure

First of all, people on tiktok are talking about how terrible Steve's ending was? That's great, gives me back some hope for that app lol.

And second of all, PREACH. All of this, a thousand times over. You're absolutely correct and you should say it, thank you very much. I genuinely agree with all of this so much, and I could go on and on about it, but I don't want to spend more of my precious energy dwelling on that dumb movie anymore than I already have.

Just about this bit, though:

"How is Steve not a man out of time again in the 50s when he’s already used to the future?" - THIS, plus he never actually lived through the 50s because he was in the ice from 1945 onwards, and he spent the years before that at war in Europe, so that would just another time jump/displacement for him?? He'd just be DOUBLY out of time: displaced both from the future which had very much become his present and his home, and also his past, which he never would've actually wanted to go back to anyway, LEAST of all without Bucky (and his friends/new family), and definitely not for Peggy, who he'd already said goodbye to and knew to have lived a good life. Jesus Christ. Literally the stupidest fucking ending anyone could've come up with for Steve, congratulations you marvel numbnuts.

ANYWAY. I'll always be angry about this, but I should probably also mind my blood pressure lmao so I'm just going to forget about this whole fiasco again now and think about how happy Steve and Bucky currently are together 🥰