#how did I not. realise til now. | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

Visit Blog

Explore Tumblr blogs with no restrictions, modern design and the best experience.

Fun Fact

130K people were victims of a chain letter scam that affected Tumblr in May 2011.

#how did I not. realise til now.

lessonincanvases · 1 year

Text

oh my god happy tenth birthday american blues

#oh man oh my god #how did I not. realise til now.#Alex talks #American blues #the star killers #julien baker

5 notes · View notes

jamminvroomvroom · 2 months

Text

no more mister shy guy.

OP x fem!reader

in which you can’t work out why he just won’t sleep with you

i am neither normal, nor am i hinged! i hope you guys get the vision, i literally wrote this last night possessed by some feral urge bc i just love oscar sm and i’ve been needing to write for him sooo baaad. enjoy! pls lemme know what you think <3

songs to set the vibes: delicate by taylor swift, good looking by suki waterhouse, my kind of woman by max demarco, feeling myself by wolf alice

warnings: 18+!! minors dni!! smut, pwp but also there is some plot? overstimulation, crying in a hot way, choking, unprotected sex (L bozo don’t do that!) the most minor moment of angst, fluff

2.8k words

you watch him make coffee, daydreaming, balancing your heavy head on your hand. you study him while your free hand taps against the kitchen counter, nails drumming a random beat. sunlight streams through a gap in the curtains, framing him golden. you don’t think he knows how pretty he is.

oscar is oblivious to the way your mind is ticking behind him, twisting the cap on the carton of oat-milk. you hear the plastic fall onto the counter and your tongue wets your lower lip as he reaches up into the cupboard, his back flexing beneath his shirt as he finds your favourite mug. you realise then how swollen your lip is, snapped out of the trance he had you in, the one that had you biting your lip so hard, completely mindlessly.

he’s bulked up over the winter break, filled out a lot over the course of his rookie season. he’s no longer the scrawny, anxious guy you’d met at your fathers work event a year ago, he’s broader, thicker in your hands, utterly delicious. as much as you like the way he looks, you like his mind a whole lot more. if only you knew what was going on inside it.

oscar is an enigma, quiet, hilariously dry, the kindest man you’d ever had the pleasure of meeting. you’ve been together since the start of the winter break, november, after awkward run ins and plenty of pining since the start of his first season. you’d travel to races with your dad, a mclaren sponsor, and run into the australian, stare at each other and pretend no one noticed. after months of teasing from lando, oscar finally got the kick up the arse that he needed and you’d said yes to dinner before he’d even finished asking the question.

it’s february now, a week til he needs to be in bahrain. the last three months had been serene, spent with a man made of sunshine, and you’re sad to see him go, as if you won’t be in the emirates a mere four days after him. you fear the way you’ll ache for him, having been inseparable since the dinner that started it all.

but then again, it can’t be worse than the way you ache for him now.

“sweetheart?” oscar is waving his hand in front of your face when you realise he’s been calling your name for a good 15 seconds, and you have, in fact, been staring. hm? you jump, staring at him bewildered. he looks amused. “you okay?” he coos, sliding the coffee across the island towards you.

“yeah, sorry, i, um, i just- why won’t you have sex with me?” you blurt, slapping your hand over your mouth as soon as you realise what you’ve just said.

oscar just blinks, mouth forming a little o, the permanent blush he seems to have increasing tenfold. you instantly feel guilty for ambushing him, but you were at the end of your tether. three months of nothing, nada, zilch. every move you made was refuted, ignored as if he was oblivious. you were ravenous for him, he’s so gorgeous! and you didn’t want to pressure him, but you were starting to feel like there was something wrong with you.

you’d wake up in bed with him wrapped around you, grinding against your ass in his sleep, and you’d revel in it, the rare times that he actually seemed to want you like that. you loved him regardless, of course you did, but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t need to be… dealt with. urgently.

“i- um- what?” oscar splutters, and the bottom of his mug blinks against the granite.

“is there something wrong with me? am i not pretty enough?” you whisper, shy. “do you just not… like- do you not want to do that?” you ramble.

panic fills his face, and he’s rushing around the island, by your side in an instant. he takes your hands into his, finding your eyes. they’ve grown watery, a mixture of guilt and desperation swirling in them which makes him feel ill.

“baby, no, god no.” he rushes the words out, desperate to convince you that it wasn’t you. “you’re the most beautiful person in the entire world, prettiest girl i ever saw.” he promises. “i’m just… it’s scary.”

“oh, osc.” your face falls, and you want to throw yourself off of the balcony. “i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to pressure you. if it makes you feel better, i’m scared too. but i love you so much, i just want to feel even closer to you.”

“you didn’t make me feel pressured, i’m just sorry i made you feel unwanted. trust me, i want you like that. drives me insane. but i’ve never had sex before with someone that i love. not the way i love you, anyway. scared that i won’t be good enough for you.” he murmurs.

you’re hung up on the part where you drive him crazy, the part where he loves you like that, and then you remember how vulnerable he’s being, baring his entire soul to you, and you rip yourself from the fantasy.

your hands smooth over his shoulders, until you’re softly fisting a clump of hair at the nape of his neck.

“i love you. insanely. we’ll go slow.” you state. he moulds further against you, and you quickly realise it’s for leverage, because the next thing you know, you’re in his arms. he has his hands hooked under your thighs and he’s kissing you so, so deeply that you’re dizzy. you don’t realise that you’re halfway to his bedroom until he pulls away.

“i don’t wanna go slow anymore.”

oscar places you on your feet at the end of his bed, the large, plush king-sized mattress that is currently calling both of your names. your blouse gets unbuttoned first, his hands shaking in a way that makes you melt, and his lips trail over every inch of bare skin that he uncovers. when it finally falls to the floor, his pupils are blown wide, his hands palming intricate black lace. your jeans are stripped away mercilessly, his hands shaking less now, and you take it as a sign to crawl backwards onto the bed.

he stands there, watching you, apprehensive again. you can see how hard he is, how desperately strained his cock is through the light grey of his sweatpants, and so you switch tactics. your hand grazes your tummy, skimming up your abdomen until you reach a bra strap. you toy with the elastic, holding the kind of eye contact that makes him twitch, tugging it until it hangs loosely off of your shoulder.

“i need you, osc. i trust you.” you utter, soft and enticing. one finger runs under the cup of your bra, flicking over your nipple. he can just about see the hardened bud through the lace of your bra. it’s not enough, though, and every ounce of self control depletes when you whine, “want you inside of me so badly.”

the elastic band snaps and he’s on top of you, rutting between your legs like a man starved. you drag his shirt up and over his shoulder blades, moaning as you feel each and every muscle under your fingertips.

“just wanna make you feel good.” oscar rasps, rolling his hips even harder into your core.

“take these off.” you beg, pulling at the waistband of his joggers. he somehow musters the strength to pry himself off of you, just long enough to discard the uncomfortable material of his sweats, but as soon as he looks down, his plans change.

painted over the crotch of them is a shiny pool of your slick, and when his eyes flit hungrily to your core, he sees where you’ve soaked through your panties. you’re panting when you see the stain, and you just want to get him inside of you, but his priorities have changed. oscar collapses between your legs, head buried, tongue exploring.

he groans, carnal and needy, into the fabric of your underwear, laving his tongue over the lace. your eyes widen as he dives in, licking over the wet patch until he grows frustrated. you hear the tearing of the fabric, feel his big hands pawing at your thighs to spread them as wide as they’ll go. his tongue slides right inside of you and he whines. he fucking whines. the vibration nearly makes you scream. you can’t believe this is your oscar, the same oscar that had quivered with nerves a mere five minutes ago.

“oh my god.” you chant, rolling your hips against his face. you must be all over him by now, what with the way he’s sucking and slurping, obscene sounds of wetness sounding around the room. you’d be blushing a deep red if you weren’t so turned on, shaking against his bedspread which will probably need changing once he’s done with you.

you thought that maybe he was inexperienced and that was the source of his fear, but if he was, you never would have known. he was a natural in between your legs, nipping at your clit to get you even louder for him.

you cum faster than ever, and he’s mumbling something incoherent into your pussy when you do. you’re riding the high, midway through the bliss, when a thick finger slips its way inside of you. oscar realises that he can easily slide another in, and he does. he doesn’t thrust them in and out, he grinds them against your walls, and your mouth falls open as a silent scream forces it’s way out.

you cum a second time, in record time yet again, and he still doesn’t let up. he’s hitting that spot relentlessly with his fingers, keeping your clit between his swollen lips, and you’re begging him. for what, you’re not sure, but you’re whimpering his name like you’re going to die. and what a good way to go this would be.

his eyes meet yours, and he looks unhinged. that’s when you feel it. that all consuming, belly twisting rush.

“oscar!” you try to warn him, but it’s too late, and he knows it. he makes you squirt, because of course he does. the shy guy who was scared that he wouldn’t be able to please you makes you squirt.

he pulls his mouth off of you but keeps his fingers buried deep, eyes fixed on watching the way your pussy convulses.

“holy shit.” you cry. you’re staring down at him like you’ve gone insane. he’s smiling innocently.

“was that good?” he almost sounds shy and you want to kick him.

“are you… are you serious?” you rasp. oscar just shrugs. “get up here.” you reach for him and complies, slotting himself between your legs once more.

oscar resumes the rolls of his hips, and the friction of the grey fabric against your core makes your eyes roll back.

“please, oscar, fuck me.” you whine, his head falling into the crook of your neck. he bites down, leaving behind the sting of his teeth and a faint purple splotch.

“fucking love you.” he slurs, his accent thickening in a way that makes him sound that extra bit fucked out already.

“i love you.” you murmur, forcing his sweats down his legs. his boxers are wet, just like your panties were, and you can’t help but stare. oh, it’s big.

his boxers are peeled down and you can feel yourself throbbing. his cock hangs heavy, red and dripping, painfully hard. you reach for it, looking at him to make sure it’s okay to touch, and he’s rapidly nodding his head. your small hand struggles but you make it work, and his head tips back, exposing his thick neck that you want to suck purple. your hand works over him a few times, and a visible shiver running through his body makes you stop.

“you ready for me?” he asks through gritted teeth.

“please.” you gasp, locking your legs around his waist. “however you want me, ‘m yours.” you breathe.

oscar’s eyes roll back in his head, your words sending his brain blank, and then he’s pushing home, slow and deep.

“fucking hell.” he groans, guttural. you’re so tight, warm, soaking wet. he feels like the biggest idiot in the world for waiting so long for this.

“oh.” you gasp, your eyebrows knitting together. he’s so deep. “so full.” you pant.

“can you take it, sweetheart?” oscar’s lips bump your jaw. “want you to take it.” you nod profusely, desperate to hear him run his mouth even further. your eyes clench shut when you feel him move, just the tiniest bit, readjusting.

“move.” you plead. he’s staring down at you, watching every single micro movement of your face.

oscar pulls out the smallest bit and thrusts back in, nice and slow. the drag drives you feral, the weight of him on top of you makes you weak. you want to stay like this until the end of days.

“good?” he hisses, trying to keep composed. he’s finally inside of you, claiming you as his in the most intimate way of all. he tries not to think about how many times he could have had you begging under him in the last three months.

“so good, so good.” you repeat, pushing your hips up to try and meet his.

“so pretty like this for me. always so, so pretty.” he rambles. he realises that he never quite made it as far as getting your bra off, and he needs to see all of you. the cups are tugged haphazardly down, and oscar stares at your breasts like he’s never seen tits before. you hear him hum, low and greedy, and then you feel the wet drag of his tongue across your nipple.

the animalistic whine that he rips from you makes him thrust harder, upping his pace a bit. he can hear how much wetter you get when he picks up his pace, and he changes up his rhythm, pushing all the way in and dragging out again at lightning speed. your jaw goes slack and your eyes are damp.

“baby, what’s wrong?” oscar slows to a stop, and you want to scream.

“no, no, no, keep going.” you choke out, your throat constricting with a sob. “it’s so good. feel so good.” you sound drunk, all for him, and he loses his mind completely.

he taps into that athletic stamina, fucking into you with a newfound vigour that you didn’t think was humanly possible, and you feel things that you didn’t even know you could feasibly feel. you see stars behind your eyes, his face, and nothing else but bright white. calloused fingers find your clit, and you wonder fleetingly if he’s trying to kill you when he rubs messy shapes into the much too overstimulated bud. his teeth graze your nipple, and everything seems to come together perfectly.

thick tears run hot down your cheeks, only to be licked away by eager tongue. your belly tightens, aflame for him; he’s wound your body up perfectly and you’ve never in your life teetered so dangerously over the edge.

“can feel you, baby. want you to cum, okay? ‘n then i’m gonna fill you up.” oscar grunts. you clamp down on him even tighter, thanking god for oscar’s filthy fucking mouth and birth control, and then everything snaps.

you think you scream, you know that you’re sobbing, and your throat is raw when the wave hits. oscar keeps going, intensifying your pleasure, and when he finally let’s go, it’s the most beautiful fucking thing you’ve ever seen. it’s surreal, the way his neck flexes, eyes clenched tight, brown locks flopping over his sweat damped forehead. and the sounds he makes, god. he’s muttering into your ear, lewd and shameless, and a fifth orgasm nearly takes you under.

“gonna need you everyday like this, tight fucking pussy, all mine. can’t live without this now. fucking perfect.” he’s rambling, burrowing deep into you one last time. you feel his warmth spilling into you, feel his hot breath fanning your face. he licks into your awaiting mouth.

“fuck.” you giggle, breathless.

“good?” he raises an eyebrow, grinning bashfully.

“more than worth the wait.” you whisper, mustering the strength to lift your head just enough so that you can peck his lips. “you better not hold out on me ever again though.” oscar laughs at that and you feel the rumble in your flushed chest.

“you promise?” there’s the shy guy again.

“osc, honey, that was the best. ever. ever. need you to be mr sex god more often.”

“only if you behave for me.” he smirks down at you.

“there he is.” you sigh happily.

when he snakes his way back between your legs, lapping up the mess he’s made, and then some, you wonder just what you’ve unleashed.

whoops? lol

taglist

@thegirlinthefandoms @mcmuppet @japanesekel @vinvantae @ggaslyp1 @dr3lover @smiithys @rachstash @infinitebells @fizzpopsnap101 @gaily19 @icecoldtires @mysticalnightenthusiast @thatchickwiththecamera @oyesmendes @disneydaydreameralways @canyouseethesainz @ferrarifwendvale @fcbformulaeri @tony-stank3 @maih23 @nokiaholland @soleilgrec @carolineworld @anthonykatebridgerton @allywthsr @iamasimpingh0e @ophcelia @lovelynikol16 @coffeehurricanes @jennx03 @blueflorals @lqvesoph @sidcrosbyspuck @better-dead-than-smeg @buendiabebeta @pjofics @kovalcin @wintergilmore3 @for-writing-shit @youdontknowmeshh @im-an-overthinker @jule239 @darleneslane @jazzy722 @weasleyswizarding-wheezes @therealone4r @pleasecallmeunhinged @theonlyadrienne @spideylovin @charli123456789

(run outta space on my taglist lol, lemme know if u wanna be added or removed)

3K notes · View notes

jongseongsnudes · 5 months

Text

ruin you

bff!jake. 1.6k words. smuttt.

“how long left til your date?”

“an hour.”

“perfect. that’s plenty of time.”

“for what jake- ahh-” your words turn into squeals when the man carries you over to his side of the car, literally manhandling you as if you weighed nothing to him.

guess his trips to the gym really were beneficial.

the man holds you still on his lap, facing him, while grounding your hips down so you can feel the growing tent in his sweat pants that you swore you had just helped get rid of back at his place.

“again?”

“what can i do?” the ends of his lips pull into a smug grin as he leans in to place a kiss on your chin, “you’re such a pretty, pretty girl.”

“sweet talk isn’t always going to get you what you want, mr sim.”

“just trying to help. i just want to get you ready for your date,” he shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly, the grin on his face however tells you that his next words were going to be anything but nonchalant.

“and how will you be doing that?”

your words seem to be the cue for him to lean in and kiss you sweetly. you loved these kind of kisses from jake, when he treated you so gently, as if you were his most prized possession.

you had spent the day at your best friend’s place, in his bed with his arms around you and his lips on yours for most of it. this was how you both spent most of your sundays, literally joined by the hip with heaps of what you and him liked to call, lazy fucking.

and usually, you’d stay there til the very next day and head off classes together but you had a date tonight. a blind date.

you and jake were best friends, have been for the past two years but a drunken mistake one night led to the beginning of your hook ups. with no strings attached of course. the man would go on dates and you would go on yours but by the end of the night, you’d be knocking at each other’s doors. like clockwork, a familiar routine.

it was a strange friendship but it worked and it had been for the past three months. you’ve always enjoyed the man’s fun company but you’d be lying if you said you didn’t love the dominant side of jake sim that only you got to experience.

like the him right now, sitting before you.

“my pretty, i’m going to ruin you. i’m going to make sure he’ll never be good enough. no one will.”

he kisses you again almost immediately, not letting you have a single say.

there was something noticeably different about jake today, something slightly off that you can’t pinpoint. your bestie never cared much about who you went on dates with but his words and his actions today told you different. maybe it’s because your blind date was supposedly the captain of the football team, someone good looking, smart and rich. what girl wouldn’t fall for that right?

the delusional side of you hoped that you were right, that you going on a date tonight did bother jake. but you knew yourself that it wasn’t likely, not when said man had hot girls lined up for him every week.

you were just an easier fuck whenever he needed it.

the coldness of his fingers on your skin brings you out of your stupid thoughts, only to realise what he was actually doing. trust him to already have his sweatpants down his knees and your panties under your dress slipped to one side. how he could be so fast still manages to surprise you, time after time.

the feeling of his cock rubbing at your bareness elicits a breathy moan from you. it drove you to almost insanity whenever he did this, your core desperate and screaming to be filled up by the man.

“will you let me put it in pretty?”

“yes jake please,” your words sounded more like whimpers, something he enjoyed a little too much with the way he was already grinning.

he knows you’re desperate for him and he was loving every bit of it.

he kisses you again while his hands are busy at your waist, easily lifting you up. every part of you is immediately put on overdrive as you slowly sink onto him, your wetness taking as much of his hard on as possible. and damn was that a full time job of its own.

“oh my god- jake-” you’re already seeing stars, your mind spinning and it was just the tip. no matter how many times you’ve done this, you always end up struggling to fit it. just proves how big jake sim really was.

“poor baby. need my help?”

you nod way too quickly at his question, causing the man to laugh. but you don’t care how pathetic you must’ve looked because you wanted him to help. it’s always how it went between you two anyway, with jake doing most of the work, manhandling your body like it was his own personal rag doll.

and you would never complain. ever.

because by the end of it all, jake always made sure you were satisfied first, letting you cum countless times before he would.

so you didn’t expect anything different this time either.

his arms circle your waist, hugging you even closer as he thrusts upwards, filling you. all you could do was whine at the feeling of him even deeper inside of you, his thickness almost breaking you in half. but you couldn’t care less, not when it felt this good.

you grip tighter onto his shoulders as jake pounds into you, your nails almost ripping the man’s poor shirt, similar to your dress strap that was currently hanging on for dear life.

“f- feels so good-”

“i know baby, i know,” he coos into your ear, his voice so deep, just like his cock that’s currently buried inside of you. his hands are now grasping your waist, holding you still in place so he could angle himself better.

of course fucking in jake’s car wasn’t at the top of your favourite places to do it but just something about it, perhaps the tight space or the high chance of getting caught or even the fogged up windows... turned you on a little too much.

“jake...”

“what do you want pretty, tell me. you know i’d give you anything right?”

“please... i want to cum-”

your body begins to fall apart when he hits one specific angle, an angle he had perfected only after a week. it was like he knew everything about your body already. where to touch, where to kiss, where to suck. the man was a fast learner and you were more than thankful for that.

“anything for my pretty baby...” his thrusts fastens almost immediately, causing your head to fall back against the stirring wheel. you have no idea of what’s what anymore, all you know is that you were going to have the best orgasm of your life.

your moans, his groans and the unholy sound of skin smacking continue to fill the small space as jake works you towards your high, his thrusts gradually becoming erratic.

his name is the only thing on your lips as a violent rush erupts through your body, your juices coating the man’s dick just as he also cums deep inside of you, filling you to the brim.

with no energy left, you lay your head onto his shoulder, your arms now weakly clinging onto the material of his shirt. you could hear him laughing lowly beside you as he begins to pat your head, something you’ve always loved him doing.

the smirk on his lips tells you just how pleased he is with how whiny you always become because of him. how pathetic and dishevelled you always looked when he’s fucking you, with hair so messy and with tears in your eyes.

that’s exactly what jake sim loved seeing. you being a complete mess for him.

just like right now.

“oh shit i- i have to go,” you barely manage to mutter with how exhausted you are, your eyes going to your wrist watch to see the time, “there’s only 20 minutes left. i need to go wash up-”

“or,” you can tell from the look in his eyes that he wasn’t about to let you go, that he wasn’t going to take no for an answer either. it’s always with that gaze, the one he knows for a fact always works on you, “we take a nice bath, have some take out and then we stay in bed all night. just me and you.”

“but jake-”

“come on,” he coos at you again, his tone more desperate than before if you could say so yourself.

of course you wanted to scream hell yes, but deep down you knew you shouldn’t. this secret, scandalous relationship between you and your best friend that was supposed to be no strings attached was becoming anything but that for you.

it all happened so suddenly, something you weren’t able to control. you didn’t even know when or how but you found yourself falling for him over time. you tried to go on dates, meet new people but no one could take your mind off jake sim. it was as if he really did ruin you for everyone else, both mentally and physically.

and what did you do about your feelings?

answer was simple, nothing, just so you could salvage your friendship.

so now that you’re given yet another chance to distance yourself from him, with a blind date, you knew you had to go. just like he would, if he had a date to go on.

“stay with me pretty.”

“i- i can’t jake... not tonight.”

end.

2023 © jongseongsnudes on TUMBLR. PLEASE DO NOT COPY, TRANSLATE OR REPOST.

3K notes · View notes

princessbrunette · 12 days

Text

kitty!reader is feisty, so naturally — jj is always coming up with creative ways to keep her in check.

the first time he did it, it was played off as a joke. just jj being silly. nothing new. you were bickering, getting in your man’s face merely out of bored and irritation — something he was all too used to.

“stop being mean.” you hiss, narrowing your eyes up at him making him jab you at your waist before yanking you closer.

“oh i’m mean? for not lettin’ you play with my dick in public, i’m mean.” he deadpans, raising his eyebrows like he was accepting the challenge.

“yes. you’re rejecting me! i’ll bite you.” you threaten, raising an eyebrow.

“first of all — no the hell i’m not. second of all — go for it, knock yourself out. it don’t bother me, sweetcheeks.” he shrugs making you glare harder up at him like you’d be able to make him explode with just your eyes. “aw now i’m really scared.” he dramatises, rolling his eyes.

“you want scary? okay how’s this — next time you fuck me m’gonna keep riding it and riding it and not let you pull out so you knock me up.” you stand on the toes of your shiny black mary-janes, getting all in his face ‘til he was pushing your jaw away with a gentle hand and a smirk.

“then you better take that plan b and stop playing with me.” you feel the threat in his voice, very vaguely. like — he was subtly jabbing you not to say things like that if you don’t mean it.

“and if i don’t?” you pur, sharp nails digging into his shoulders making his eyes flutter as he tries to ignore it.

“oh? well — i’ll have’ta just —” he reaches round you and you think he’s going to give you a hard swat on your ass, but instead, his hands dive right down the back of your skirt, grabbing a fist of your cotton underwear and yanking them up— the sound of the fabric stretching to a near tear. you gasp, falling into his chest and erupting into giggles.

“jay! let go, stop!” you squeal and surprisingly he does, dropping the material with a smirk leaving it hanging out the back of your waistband stupidly. he gives your ass a tap before stepping away.

“yeah, s’what you get for messin’ with papa J— remember that. i got new antics now.”

you don’t take it much to heart, so you’re blindsided the next time it happens. it becomes a habit of his, one slither of an attitude and he’s fisting at whatever underwear you got on and yanking it up so hard it hurts, nearly lifting your damn feet off the ground. “what was that? huh? say sorry. go ‘head. say it.” he’ll chant in your ear, like some kind of high school bully in an 80s movie robbing you of your lunch money. it starts to become less funny very quickly, and more of a way to humiliate you — especially when he threatens to do it infront of the pogues. you bite out a response just a little too irritably and the hand that was resting on your lower back will slither down the back of your shorts, twisting his finger round the black lace of your panties.

“hm? repeat that real quick?” he’ll taunt just for you to hear and you’ll immediately shrink, shaking your head.

but much like any other punishment, you eventually find a way to enjoy it — rendering it useless to the blonde as he’d thought he’d finally found a way to keep you on a tighter leash. it’s one night in your bedroom that you’re rolling around with him play fighting on your bedroom floor when you just take it that little bit too far, sinking your teeth hard into his arm to get the upper hand.

“ah—” he immediately disarms you with a sharp slap on the cheek, disorientating you as you groan and fall onto your back on the floor, the fluffy rug tickling your arm as you rub at your cheek. he hovers over you. “awww, what? did that hurt?” he coo’s unsympathetically. “already told you mama, i only play nice if you do.” he dusts his hands off as you pout before he’s eyeing you, sprung with his usual ideas. “matter’a’fact…”

suddenly he’s flipping you to lay on your front making you squirm as you realise what’s coming. straddling the back of your legs, he flips up your skirt and uses two hands to pull your baby pink panties up your back making you wince and mewl.

“ow! stop it!” you complain as he smirks, tongue parked sadistically in the corner of his mouth.

“nuh-uh babydoll. you asked for it.”

you find a way to roll onto your front beneath him as he still hovers above your knees, lots of fighting spirit left in him as you grin up at him victoriously. however, he finds a way to wipe that smile off your face fast when he grips the front of your panties — barely noting the pretty cursive ‘Kitten’ scrawled across the front as he yanks it up the same way he’d usually do to the back.

his own evil grin falters when he looks up to see your expression, jaw dropped and brows knitted at the sensation. it was different, the fabric forced to slide right up against your clit. your hips twitch and knees fall open.

“wow— seriously? this shits doin’ it for you?” he’s amused, giving the panties a couple more rough tugs upwards making you squeak.

“jayj— qu—quit it…” you try to shift, but any wriggling of your hips only makes it worse as your boyfriend has you pinned, continuing to pull up and down.

“i know you’re not tellin’ me what to do, kittycat.” he ticks his head with faux disapproval, not seeming to want to stop any time soon. your breath hitches in your throat and your socked feet kick out.

“jj— really y—you have to— s’gonna… m’gonna—”

he laughs and it’s mean, leaning forward a little as he continues with his repetitive ministrations.

“yeah? can’t get those words out now, huh? shit babe, only you could cum in your pretty little panties just from being bullied.”

#jj maybank prompt #kitty!reader #the way it’s not that weird and i’m just dramatic

560 notes · View notes

lilsluttyy · 9 months

Text

" mine only "

✪ Getou Suguru x male reader

✪ warning : possessive Getou , jealousy, rough sex-ish

✪ highschool au

+*:ꔫ:*﹤-----------------------------------------------

Getou felt his eye twitched as he sees how close Gojo and you were getting, the way Gojo was pressing his body against your back when you were on your phone irritated him. Gojo turned to Getou with a teasing smile " you should've introduce me to him earlier we would have make a cute couple no? " Getou's eyes darkened as he heard his best friend teased and stood up abruptly making both Gojo and you jump.

He walked past Gojo and gripped you hand before walking away dragging you with him.

" Suguru..where are we going " you questioned him but he didn't answer you until you and Getou arrived Infront of your dorm. He slammed the door open and entered, as you set foot in your own room he closed the door behind you " Suguru can you let go..it hurts " you whimpered lowly. Getou snapped out of his trance and realised what he just did he quickly soften his grip on your hand and bought your hand to his mouth. " 'm sorry baby.." he muttered then kisses the red marks that was painting your hand. You sighed softly and bought your other hand to his head " Suguru..are you jealous? " Getou stopped whatever he was doing and looked at you before nodding slowly.

" I was jealous how he was close to you..I hated how you two have the same interest I hate how people would think Gojo was your boyfriend and not me..." Getou whispered softly and placed his head on your neck. His hot breath against your neck making your breath hitched , you felt his hands snake around your waist and pulled you closer to him. " It makes me mad that I just want to fuck you so that people would know that you're mine...mine only " you gasped softly as you felt Getou kisses your neck softly. " I want you to scream my name when I fuck you.." Getou's voice deepened as he said that and hoisted your legs onto his waist and kisses you on the lips. The kiss was rough , you moaned as he shoves his tongue into your mouth. He then carries you to your bed and lays you on your back , his eyes was clouded with lust the way he scanned your body as he strips you off your own clothes makes you squirm. " Suguru... " You whispered as your hands unbuttons his uniform Getou let's out a small hum and looks at you. The glint of lust was still there in his eyes you were about to say something but was cut off by your own moan as he presses his finger on your puckered hole.

He chuckled huskily to himself " I haven't even entered and you're already sensitive just wait 'til I fuck you nice and rough... I'll fuck you until you can't even walk " he grinned slyly. He then pushes two of his fingers in scissoring you slowly making you whine " Suguru f-fuck me already ".

" fuck you're so needy...only for me~ " he then proceeds to pull out his fingers, you moaned from the loss of contact. Before you could whine even more he shoved his dick in you and groans. Your tongue lolled out and pupils shaped like heart. You panted softly as you were adjusting to his dick , Getou then starts moving softly.

Soon later he picked up the pace and fucks you faster and rougher,"S-SUGURU-UNGH♡ t-to fast~ " you mewled. His gaze flickered to your face after seeing the lewd expression on your face he felt pride filled in him and kept on thrusting into you. Your dick was being ignored as it was spilling with pre-cum , the only thing that was on your mind right now was you wanted to cum. Your hands slowly made it's way to your dick before you could touch it Getou decided to grab both of your hands and pins it above your head " you're going to cum by my dick only~ " he said while panting hard.

You were about to protest but he suddenly pulls out making you whine , " patient baby.." Getou then turns you over now your ass was perked up exposed to the cold air and your body pressed on the bed sheets.

You now sensitive dick was grazing against the sheets making you moan lowly, " Sugu-NGH..MMNG♡ D-DEEP...a-agh~ " you moaned loudly as he thrusted deep into you again you felt you vision darkened as you cummed. " atta boy..see why jerk off when I can just fuck you nice and rough " you were panting softly as Getou keeps fucking you harder. He spreads your plump ass to see his dick dissapear into your warm and tight hole , he groaned as your walls tightened on his dick. You could feel his pre-cum leaking into your hole " suguru~ p-pleumnh♡ cum in me~ " he grinned darkly as you begged him " whatever my needy boy wants I'll give it to him.." Getou then grips your hip and slams his dick deeper before cumming into you filling you up with his cum.

He then pulls out and you fell onto the bed panting and felt his cum seeping out of you , Getou looks at you leaking hole and smiled feeling proud of himself " rest up baby I'll clean you up " he whispered as he sees you slowly drifting off to sleep.

The next day you , Getou and Gojo were hanging out perusual but now you were clinging onto Getou with a daze look. Gojo sent a smirking look to Getou and whispered to him " looks like you wore him out " Getou scoffed and smiled slyly " It's the best way to show people what's mine " as he says that he pulls on you collar showing the red marks he left when you were asleep.

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

Hope this doesn't disappoint teehee :3

#x male reader #bottom male reader #jujutsu kaisen x male reader #sub male reader #getou suguru

1K notes · View notes

kelstey · 3 months

Text

get him back!

mattheo riddle x reader

warnings : none

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

i met a guy last summer and i left him in the spring

"hey," you shielded your eyes with your hand from the sun, squinting at the figure in front of you.

"hey," you replied. you allowed your eyes to adjust, realising that a literal god of a man was standing in front of you.

"i'm mattheo," he brung his hand out in front of him for a hand shake.

"i'm y/n."

he argued with me about everything he had an ego and a tempter and a wandering eye

"you're such a dick! you were fully undressing her with your eyes!" you shouted at him, heated, absolutely enraged he was gaslighting you.

"staring at who?! you're making things up," mattheo ran his hand through his stupidly soft, brown hair.

"oh making things up?" you laughed at the stupidity that was coming out of his mouth, "i have eyes! i could see you checking her out as if i weren't right next to you!"

"yeah, whatever," he scoffed and walked away

he said he's six foot two

"and i'm like dude nice try," you giggled to pansy, gossiping about all the juicy drama to her.

"you love tall guys, he seems perfect," you blushed at her words, knowing she was right.

but he was so much fun, and he had such weird friends

"why do you have a ferret?" you questioned mattheo.

"it's just draco, i'm taking him back to snape to see if he can fix him," he chuckled and handed the white animal over to you.

"and how exactly did he get in this predicament?" you giggled as the little thing tried to bite

and he would take us out to parties and the night would ever end

another song, another club, another bar, another dance

you were pressed up against mattheo, grinding on him as the music deafened you. his hands were glued to your hips, gluing you to him.

"another drink?" he shouted in your ear.

"fuck yeah!" you shouted back, heading over to the bar to order another 10 shots.

and when he said something wrong he'd just fly me to france

"c'mon darlin, drivers here and he's taking us to my family's villa," you stepped off of the plane in paris, feeling like some sort of royalty.

"i can hardly speak french," you giggled, heading over to the personal driver who was parked, awaiting your arrival.

"i'll speak it for you, sweetheart," he winked, opening the car door for you.

so i miss him some nights when i'm feeling depressed

you laid on your side, mascara smudged all under your eyes as you continued to stare off into space; your mind on one person, and one person only.

you rolled onto your back, staring at the still ceiling as you reminisced the times he held you in his arms, the way his soft lips felt against your lips - and everywhere else on your body.

til i remember every time he made a pass on my friend

your eyebrows furrowed, frustrating growing through your body when you remember the one time mattheo hit on astoria right in front of you.

"hey," you watched as his hand was placed on the arch of her back.

"hey mattheo," she smiled and you frowned.

"you look gorgeous tonight, mind if i get you a drink?" be was now dangerously close to her and you felt as if steam was coming out of your ears.

do i love him? do i hate him? i guess it's up and down

if i had to choose, i would say it right now i wanna get him back i wanna make him really jealous wanna make him feel bad oh, i wanna get him back

cause then again i really miss him and it makes me real sad

oh, i want sweet revenge and i want him again i want to get him back, back, back

so irerite bim all these letters and i throw

them in the trash

"dear mattheo,

i hate you, but i love you. and i hate you again. you're a piece of shit. i never want you to speak to me again but i don't want you to ever stop trying to reach out. you confuse me so much. i know we're bad for each other but you're the only one i want. cause i miss the the way you kiss, and the way you make me laugh."

yeah, i pour my little heart out but as i'm hittin' send

i picture all the faces on my disappointed friends

"you did what?!" pansy screeched in the middle of the hall.

"girl shut up! pineapple might hear! plus, i only wrote it in my notes. merlin, do you really think i'm stupid enough to hit send?" you scolded her.

"i wouldn't put it past you," she began walking again and you rolled your eyes, knowing she was right.

because everyone knew all of the shit that he'd do

"he's not the type of guy you should be with, y/n,"

theo spoke to you, his thumb rubbing circles over your hands as you told him the things he did.

"he said i was the only girl but that just wasn't the truth," you felt your eyes water, theo giving you a pitiful look.

and when i told him how he hurt me, he'd tell me i was trippin'

"you keep giving me mixed signals, mattheo," you were now beyond exhausted of the arguing.

"you're trippin'," he couldn't even look you in the eyes as he knew what you were saying was factual.

you titled your head, "you're a fucking cunt." you poked your index finger into his chest, pushing past him as you headed to class.

but i am my fathers daughter, so maybe i could fix him?

your fingers were tangled in his hair, calming him down as he had yet another argument with his father.

mattheo was laid on your stomach, his body between your legs, hands wrapped around your back.

"i just hate him so much," warm, salty tears fell from his face to your stomach.

"i know baby, i know. i'll do my best to help you."

i wanna get him back

i wanna make him really jealous, wanna make him feel bad

oh, i wanna get him back

'cause then again, i really miss him, and it makes me real sad

oh, i want sweet revenge, and i want him again

i want to get him back

i want to get him back, back, back

i wanna key his car

"c'mon, hurry," you waved pansy over, the two of you disguised with all black, baggy outfits, and balaclavas as you hopped over the riddle's manor.

"which one is it?" pansy pulled out her endless assortment of keys.

"that one," you pointed over at the black mercedes.

"posh twat," pansy muttered and tossed you some keys.

"i wanna get him back," you smirked. you carefully went over to the parked car, trying to make as little noise as possible.

quickly you began to run the keys across any surface area of the sleek black car, ruining it as much as possible.

"this is for making me listen to y/n rant about you 24 fucking 7," pansy mumbled to herself.

i wanna make him lunch

"hey love," you gave mattheo a sweet kiss on the cheek as you handed over the bowl of pasta, his absolute favourite of yours.

"you truly have my heart," you fake smiled at his

comment.

i wanna break his beart

you straddled theo's lap, his large hands going under your skirt as he massaged away at your ass. his lips were hungry for yours, the kiss was rough but it was everything you wanted and needed.

you had thought because of the dark lighting, and crowds of people, that mattheo wouldn't see. but oh he did.

his heart shattered, dropping at the sight of you with his best friend. he downed the rest of his drink (aka straight whiskey) before heading over to the two of you, ready to fuck some shit up.

you moved your hips against theo's, grinding on his boner, his lips still eager for more of you. he knew it was bad - betraying his friend. but you wanted to get mattheo back, and theo was only there for some very 'moral', moral support.

you were ripped away from theo, landing on the foor with a thud, you looked up to see mattheo going ham at theo, punching him over and over as the fight broke out.

you stared in horror - enzo pulling you away from the horrific sight.

then be the one to stitch it up

"hey matty," you walked into mattheo's room. he was sat at his window ledge, head in his book which he was reading intently.

"what do you want?" he didn't even glance up at you.

"i'm sorry about last night," you made your way to him.

finally, mattheo looked up at you. his heart nearly bursted out of his chest seeing you in his hoodie - the one you always wore when you stayed over.

"baby," his voice was now softer, his eyes staring at you in adoration as the memories of the nights you spent together came back to him.

"i'm really sorry," you pouted your lips, knowing it was all so fake.

wanna kiss his face

you held mattheo close, his face rested on your chest. you leaned down, peppering kisses onto his face 'lovingly'.

you smiled down at him, "i love you."

"i love you too," you said, he put his face back in your chest. you looked up, the smile wiped immediately off of your face.

with an uppercut

wanna meet his mum

just to tell her her son sucks

"hi mrs riddle," you smiled at the older lady as she opened the door.

"hi, and who might you be?" you tried your hardest not to let the disappointment take over as you realised mattheo clearly had never talked about you at home.

"i'm y/n, and i'd love to tell you all about mattheo. i suppose he's clearly not mentioned me then?"

oh i wanna key his car

"what the fuck?!" mattheo yelled, his arms flailed up as he stared at his car, freshly bought and freshly keyed.

"what are you - oh," his father stepped out of the house, face dropping at the scene in front of them.

wanna make him lunch

mattheo was crouched over the toilet seat, uncontrollably puking over and over as draco rubbed his back.

"mate what the fuck is wrong with you?" draco was both disgusted yet trying not to laugh.

"y/n made me lunch. think she's poison-" he threw up, yet again into the toilet.

"suppose she's got to get you back somehow." mattheo shot draco a glare. "apologies," draco held up his hands in defence.

i wanna break his heart

"hey tom," you wandered into mattheo's older brothers room.

"what?" he turned around from his desk.

"oh nothing," you held your hands behind your back, innocently walking over to tom. "just wanted to see you, is all."

you sat on his lap, fixing his loose tie. tom's hand supported you on his lap, a slight firm grasp on your thigh too. you finished sorting his tie, your eyes flickering up to his eyes.

"have i ever told you how much hotter than mattheo you are?" tom smirked at your comment.

"my very own brother, hm?" his face was close to yours, millimetres away from each other.

you nodded, looking from his eyes down to his lips. "i do prefer older guys," you closed the space between you and tom.

as if on cue, mattheo walked in.

stitch it right back up

"mattheo, i don't know what got into him! he just pulled me onto his lap and you just walked in," you explained to mattheo.

"do you promise me?" he looked up at you, sadness in his eyes. you felt bad, but he felt nothing when you were depressed over him for months.

"promise, sweetie, you know i'd never," oh yes you absolutely would.

wanna kiss his face, with an uppercut

"oops!" you covered your mouth with your hand as you accidentally 'nudged' mattheo's arm as he was mid falling asleep in class, his face hitting off of the table.

"want me to kiss it better?" you asked him.

"please."

i wanna meet his mum, and tell her her son sucks

"oh he did not," his mum was appalled, hand covering her mouth as you told her about the year long situationship with her son.

"oh he did, and then, he had the audacity to be like "you're trippin',", ugh the cheek!" you took another sip of your tea.

"oh and don't get me started on the time he was flirting with my friend in front of me! but then he got upset cause i kissed one of his friends as payback."

i'll get him, i'll get him, i'll get him, i'll get him back

get him back

i'm gonna get him so good, he's not even gonna know what hit him

he's gonna love me and hate me at the same time

he didn't know wether to hate you or love you. but what he did know, was that he was undoubtedly obsessed with you.

"please, y/n, i'll do anything," he was on his knees in front of you, begging for your forgiveness.

you really wondered how he even had feelings towards you - you keyed his car, made him lunch that was poisoned, broke his heart by kissing his best friend and brother, told his mum all the shit he did and how he sucked.

but here he was, willing to give up anything and everything for you.

you had finally got him back.

❃゜・。. ・°゜✼ ゜°・ . 。・゜❃

533 notes · View notes

taexual · 2 months

Text

sleepwalking ● 21 | jjk

pairing: jungkook x fem!reader

summary: due to unfortunate circumstances, you ended up managing your ex-boyfriend’s band. you thought you’ve both made peace with it, but suddenly he’s very eager to prove to you that first love never dies.

genre: rockstar!jungkook / exes to lovers

warnings: explicit language, suggestive themes, FLUFF!!, angst, SLOW BURN

words: 16.4k

read from the beginning ○ masterlist

chapter 21 ► love me 'til my heart stops, hit me like a freight truck

You didn’t have the courage to knock on Jungkook’s door when you woke up the next morning. Your mind had sobered enough to recall stumbling into his room after accidentally trying to pick his lock, and you did not want to remember anything else. The rest of the night was blurry anyway, but you deduced easily enough that Jungkook was the reason you woke up smothered under the warm covers.

You wanted to stay in your room for as long as possible, but your headache was so severe that, if divided between people, it could have knocked out a small village for two days. You needed water. Most unfortunately, the hotel had no room service, so you had to find your way out of bed.

The world had finally stopped twirling around you, but that wasn’t a big improvement because other things bothered you now, like the carpet texture under your feet. Or the light that burned your eyes. Or your satin dress, which had felt comfortable last night but scratched you all over this morning.

Lacking the energy to change, you drew the curtains to block out the late morning sunlight and threw on a robe. Then you hesitated in the middle of the room, trying to place your belongings. You thought you remembered having a jacket on yesterday, but as you scanned your room, you couldn’t see it anywhere.

To make matters worse, when you left your room and the door shut behind you with a loud click, you were forced to pause and strain your muscles to stay upright. Every sound felt amplified like a megaphone had been taped directly to your brain.

You took a deep breath and turned the corner towards the stairwell. Your morning got a little brighter just then—you saw Luna cross the corridor, looking almost exactly how you felt. Taehyung was at her side, pushing a water bottle into her exhausted hand as he led her back to their room. He noticed you and immediately shook his head in disapproval, first at you and then at his girlfriend (not for the first time, judging from Luna’s defeated sigh).

Just as you were about to speak up in your defence, you smacked right into something solid and recoiled in surprise.

Jungkook nearly dropped his phone from the impact. He grabbed the railing of the stairs for support and turned around.

“Shit—hi,” he said. “Didn’t expect to see you out of bed so early.”

The feeling was, obviously, mutual as your reluctant mind needed a moment to understand what was happening.

“What are you—why are you just standing here?” you asked, rubbing your forehead with your fingers. You had hit the clasp of his necklace when you walked into him, and the sharp pain began to pirouette around your head again.

“I was on my way downstairs for breakfast,” he said, a hint of amusement threading his every word as he observed your attempts to make sense of your surroundings. “But I wanted to text you first, so I’d know what to bring you.”

“It—thank you,” you replied, softer. Your thoughts had knotted into a jumbled, incomprehensible mess as images of Taehyung and Luna flashed through your mind again. “But I can go down. I think.”

“Are you sure?” he asked. He remembered you saying that last night, right before he’d half-carried you to your room. “Walking isn’t your strong suit when you’re drunk.”

You took a sharp breath. The mention of alcohol seemed to cause an unpleasant swirl in your already upset stomach.

You wondered briefly how noticeable your sudden nausea was, because Jungkook put his phone away and reached for you. You realised right then that you hadn’t even glanced in the mirror before you left your room. You could only imagine the state of last night’s makeup on your face right now.

“It’s clearly not my strong suit now either,” you said. “Sorry I nearly pushed you down the stairs just now.”

“It’s okay,” he said, snickering. One of his hands hovered over your arm in case you were planning to topple over. “Are you sure you should have drunk that much last night, though?”

“Of course I shouldn’t have,” you said, shielding your eyes with a weary hand as curious rays of sunlight filtered through the small windows by the stairs. “But what’s done is done. I think I’ve already embarrassed myself enough by breaking into your room last night, so that’s my punishment. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Jungkook said. He took a small step to the left to provide you with a shadow from the sunlight. “You didn’t do anything I haven’t seen before.”

You groaned. “That somehow makes it worse. But serves me right, I guess. I even lost my jacket.”

“You—” his laughter cut him off. You groaned again, only adding to his amusement. “Different shoes and no jacket. Sounds like quite the night.”

You wanted to shake your head but did not dare move it. Instead, you leaned against the wall, seeking additional steadiness that your stiff legs could not provide. Your ankles felt stretched out and twisted around, and the rigid hotel slippers did not help.

“Get something to eat,” Jungkook suggested, noticing your struggle to hold yourself up. “You’ll feel better.”

You closed your eyes. Your stomach was already churning precariously; you weren’t ready to eat yet.

“No, I just need water and I’ll be perfect,” you said. “I’m going—”

“I can bring it to you,” he offered promptly.

“I’ll walk,” you asserted. Then, realising that you were declining his kind intentions and he deserved an explanation, you cleared your throat and gestured around vaguely. “I brought this upon myself, you know? So…”

“So, you should punish yourself for having fun?” he questioned skeptically.

You shrugged. You did feel responsible for your splitting headache. But you also hoped that walking around would help ease your frozen muscles, which was, perhaps, a result of sleeping like a log all night. Although all that drinking and dancing probably added to the pain, too.

“Could you check on Maggie for me, though?” you asked, holding onto the railing nearby to keep your balance because the wall was not enough. The more you blinked, the more your body yearned to recline. “I’ve seen Luna, so I know she’s alive, but I haven’t heard from Mags.”

“Oh, yeah, of course,” he said, pivoting around you. He was evidently prepared to fulfil your request immediately.

You stopped him by placing an unsteady hand on his arm.

“I haven’t forgotten that we—we need to talk,” you said. “And our film.”

Jungkook turned around again. Despite the uncertainty that seemed to boil in his stomach at that thought, he liked hearing this – we need to talk. Our film. He thought he would have liked hearing about you peeling potatoes and parallel parking between two trucks together.

“Oh.” He looked at the small window in the stairwell; the stained glass was thick, but the sunlight behind it was too persistent. “Well—we don’t have to talk or watch anything today. You should—”

“No, no, we will,” you insisted. You said this with no additional pain on your face, and Jungkook took it as a positive sign. “Let me just grab some water, and—”

“I’d prefer it if you got some proper rest first, actually,” he said as you pushed yourself off the wall and paused to catch your breath after the exertion. “I can tell you’re not feeling well.”

You huffed again. Really, an average crow—one of those cawing in the trees outside the hotel—could have recognised that you weren’t feeling well. You wondered if you had enough energy to pretend otherwise.

“I’m—well, I’ll take something for my headache when I get back to my room,” you said. “And, if you wouldn’t mind, I could use a quick nap. And then we—”

“I’ll get us some snacks,” he decided, “so you can come straight to my room after you wake up.”

You managed a grateful smile. “Okay. That sounds perfect.”

He smiled back, and for a minute, the two of you lingered in the warm silence, watching each other as your silhouettes merged into one in the hazy sunlight. Once the realisation dawned that you were just standing here, staring at each other and grinning, the two of you erupted into bashful chuckles and looked away.

A new, unexpected feeling joined the heaviness in your stomach, replacing some of your nausea with a sensation oddly reminiscent of bliss.

“I’m off, then,” Jungkook said, waving his hand towards the corridor. “I’ll check if Maggie’s okay.”

“Thank you,” you said, “I’ll see you later.”

And it really was much later.

When you returned to your room with a water bottle, Jungkook texted you to confirm that Maggie was alive and well, albeit dying of thirst, which he helped her out with. Apparently, she also had your jacket.

Relieved that some of your concerns had already been put to rest, you finished your water, took some ibuprofen, and returned to bed.

And when you woke up, you were understandably startled to discover you had slept for over five hours.

You opened the curtains to get a better idea of the time, but the overcast sky made the hour seem even later than it really was. So you tried another approach and went to the bathroom to wash up, get rid of the pillow creases on your face, and fully wake yourself up.

By the time you knocked on Jungkook’s door, it was almost seven in the evening. You arrived armed with your laptop and dressed in appropriate film night attire: dark joggers and a hoodie. But so much time had passed since your encounter in the stairwell that you wouldn’t have blamed him if he’d found something better to do instead.

Actually, you realised while you waited for the door to open—or not to open—that two weeks ago, Jungkook would have probably gone out with Sid to avoid spending this time alone. But now he opened the door for you, smiling as if you had just made plans and he hadn’t been waiting for you for hours.

“Hey,” he greeted, stepping aside to let you in. “I was just about to check on you.”

“I think I went into a bit of a coma for a while there. Sorry,” you said, walking inside. “And, of course, I’ve got a headache again now because I’ve been asleep for so long. Should we go for something to eat, and maybe—”

You stopped abruptly when you noticed the snacks strewn across his bed—a mound of chocolate-coated dragées, an unnecessarily large fortress of chocolate-chip cookie boxes, and an entire trove of crisps and popcorn. It took you a minute to comprehend it all, and then another minute to come up with a possible explanation as to how he could have got all this; there were no grocery shops within five kilometres of the hotel.

Jungkook closed the door and followed your gaze to his bed.

“Oh,” he said, not responding to your unasked questions. “Maybe it’d be better if you had a proper meal—”

“Are you kidding?” You jumped on the bed with an energy you did not realise you had and reached for one of the brown bags of chocolates, nearly dropping your laptop in excitement. “We’re eating this, and absolutely nothing else.”

Jungkook knew you liked chocolate the most, but he did not want to brag about the three taxis he had to take to eight different shops to get it for you. To be fair, he had not expected your favourite brand to be so hard to find, but he was determined. He would have found the factory and made the chocolate himself if he had to.

“It’s probably not the best choice for breakfast, though,” he said, pulling his phone out of the pocket of his sweatpants. “Even if it’s, uh, seven in the evening.”

You waved away his concerns, your mouth already full of sweets. Smiling, Jungkook sat down on the other side of the bed and pulled out a box of gummy bears that you had overlooked while trying to take in the abundance of snacks.

“So, uh, how did last night go?” he asked as he meticulously picked out the red bears and accidentally scattered the yellow and green ones on the bed.

“You know how it went,” you said. “You probably know more than I do, actually. The last thing I remember is Maggie swiping someone’s feather boa off their neck.”

“Oh, so that—” He stopped picking the gummy bears from the sheets. “Y-you had a feather in your earring when you got back. I was—honestly, I was a little worried that the three of you had robbed a zoo and tried to bring back a peacock or something.”

You snorted. “We might have tried. Did you check my bag for any stray lizards?”

“You didn’t have a bag when you got back.”

You stopped chewing and turned to him. “I—I didn’t have my bag with me?”

Jungkook paused, too. He wasn’t in the right frame of mind to analyse what items you had with you when you showed up on his doorstep last night.

“You had your key,” he said slowly. “And—well, that was it. Are you sure you had your bag with you when you left?”

You tried to piece your fragmented memories together, but your mind struggled to reconstruct the precise sequence of events. You remembered having an umbrella because it had been raining. You also remembered sitting in your bathroom for what felt like half a minute but must have been longer because Luna and Maggie looked a little distraught when they found you there.

You set the candy aside.

“I might have—yeah, I might have left it at the hotel,” you said, realising. “After I talked to my mum.”

Jungkook finished chewing his handful of gummy bears in silence. Each calculated bite seemed to propel him toward a precipice from which there was no return. He hadn’t expected the two of you to get to this point so quickly, even if he was glad you did.

“And how—how’d that go?” he asked.

“Well, it—I mean, we talked,” you said, settling against the headboard of his bed. “She, um—I-I don’t know what I expected her to say, to be honest. I asked her to tell me about her relationship with my dad, and she—well, she certainly did.”

Jungkook took a moment to study the expression on your face, searching for something that he could point out to keep you talking.

“But, uh, you wish she’d said something different?” he ventured when you offered no further explanation.

A measured breath preceded your response. You wanted to explain but finding words proved almost as difficult as confronting your mum about this yesterday.

“I guess I wish it would have made more sense to me,” you finally started. “I had some time to think, and—well, I disagree with almost every single reason my mum had for getting back together with him. But I’ve realised that there’s probably nothing that either of my parents could say that would change my mind. I’m disappointed and angry, and I think I’ve felt this way for a while. I’ve tried not to feel that because it just seemed childish and immature—but I am angry. And that’s fine.”

You lapsed into a silence that Jungkook did not want to disturb. He could tell this was a pause, not a complete stop, and he was too nervous to speak anyway. He was afraid of the parallel between your parents and the two of you—especially in light of everything that Sid was currently sending to his phone.

“I-I mean,” you resumed and Jungkook made an effort to focus on the sound of your voice and not his thoughts, “the way my mum looked at her relationship—honestly, I do think she has a lot of courage. But she, um—she also has—her attitude just seemed a bit reckless. I don’t know. I guess I might never understand why she thought that getting back together with him once wouldn’t already be enough, but that’s—that was her choice. She explained it to me in a way that made sense to her, and I’m grateful she did. But sh-she seems to have blocked out everything that happened after each of their break-ups. She said she was now at peace because she had always listened to her heart. And I’m happy for her, really. But, well, I’m not at peace. This back-and-forth... it brought our whole family nothing but misery, and that does not seem fair to me, or to my brother.”

Jungkook did not think he would ever hear you realise the things he had realised long ago. You had always been so determined to help your mum heal that you’d closed your eyes on your own pain. But it was there. Feelings did not go away just because you wished them to; he knew this well.

And he felt relieved, he realised. No matter what else happened tonight, at least you finally accepted that you had a right to feel wronged.

“Is that why you feel angry?” he asked.

“It... well, mostly, yes,” you said. “Because on top of everything else, this significantly affected how I view my own relationships. I wanted my parents to be happy together. But they just weren’t. And I ended up convincing myself that their unhappiness was universal and inevitable. That anyone who tried to get back together again was bound to fail again. I wanted them to defy these odds, and when they didn’t, I thought no one ever would.”

He toyed with the gummy bear package, and only looked at you for no longer than two seconds.

“But that’s not true,” he said, his voice quiet, tentative.

“It’s not,” you agreed. “I get it now. I may not understand my mum’s choices, but that’s because I didn’t live her life. And that’s exactly it. That’s what helped me come to terms with it all. I got it. My parents’ relationship is not a rule. If anything, it’s an exception.”

Something was glistening on the very edges of his pupils when your eyes met. It struck you that he had been waiting for you to come to this realisation.

“Just because it didn’t work out for them,” you said, looking down, “doesn’t mean it won’t work out for us. That’s, um—that is the main thing, I think.”

Jungkook swallowed. It seemed to him that there were many things to say in response, and he could not find one that he needed. He sort of felt as if he were navigating a field of landmines only visible to himself—but instead of avoiding them, he deliberately tried to step on one. He needed the explosion. He needed you to say something more. But he didn’t know how to get you to say it.

“It’s—that’s good,” he eventually said, because it was all he could manage.

You weighed your next words as your headache doubled and receded in anxious, intensifying waves.

“I’m—I just want you to know that this is still the scariest thing I’ve ever done in my life,” you said. “Which makes me incredibly fortunate on the one hand, because, well, this is nothing. Right? But also it—well, I’m just scared. I don’t think that’s going to go away. I don’t think things will suddenly be better because we decide so. I think it’s going to be something we’ll have to work through.”

“That’s fine, though,” he said right away, and a tired weight heaved itself off your chest and rolled down, relieving an immense pressure inside you. Just like that. “I just want to try again with you. But better this time.”

Your teeth dug into the corner of your lip. You wanted that, too, but you didn’t think labelling it like this was right.

“Trying again,” you said, “implies that, um, we’ve stopped doing something, and now we’re doing it again.”

He gave you a puzzled look. “Right.”

“I—I’m not sure if we ever stopped.”

He took a shaky breath, uncertain if he ever released it or if it would remain trapped somewhere deep inside his throat.

“My mum… uh, she also told me about the songs,” you said and Jungkook looked up as though his conversations with your mum surprised him, too. “Why didn’t you say anything before?”

This was precisely why, Jungkook thought, turning away. Because you could not look at him when you talked about the songs he wrote about you, and he couldn’t look at you, either.

Rubbing the side of his nose, he said, “your mum, uh—she warned me that you might get physically violent.”

There was a sheepish grin tugging at his lips; he was joking.

Still, you shook your head. “But I mean when we were—when we started talking again. Not just at the bar in Oslo. Or at the hotel in Manchester.”

He coughed, feeling the sparkles in his lungs as they caught fire. You remembered, then—not just the two songs, but where you were, and what you were doing when he told you about them.

“Did you want me to tell you about the rest of them?” he asked, finally looking up. “You looked about ready to leap out of the nearest window when I brought it up.”

“I—okay, you’re probably right,” you conceded. “But, uh, my mum mentioned a new song you’re working on.”

Jungkook expected that to happen, but his stomach still churned anxiously as he smoothed the bedding with his palm. “Hmm.”

“Can I hear it?” you asked.

He brought his hand to the back of his neck. “Are you sure you want to?”

“Yes.”

He looked at you again, searching for a stronger confirmation in your eyes—and finding it there. He slowly rose from the bed and pulled out his phone from his pocket.

“It’s—I think it’s the most personal song I’ve ever written,” he said, and you held your breath. “Your mum warned me about it, which she’s never done before. Usually, she just gives me permission to release the song and sometimes offers a compliment.”

“She didn’t like it this time?” you asked while he unlocked his phone.

“No, she said she liked it a lot,” he replied, placing his phone on the bed. The screen displayed various voice notes: some with gibberish titles, others numbered. The newest one was labelled, PUDDLE_FINAL11. “But she also said that this is a song I should run by you first.”

You crossed your legs on the bed and hesitated awkwardly for a second—unsure if you could really listen to the song and sit still. Then, you leaned back against the headboard and closed your eyes.

“Let me hear it.”

Jungkook watched you get comfortable and bit his lip. He knew this was what you did when you were nervous or excited—crossing your legs on the couch when the film you two were watching got to the most interesting part; crossing them on the chair in the library when you were studying for final exams, crossing them on the passenger seat in his car when you were on road trips, playing Guess The Song (he always won, which he took great pride in).

“This is, um, the song that I told you I was writing in Oslo,” he said. Your heart was racing just like it had back then. “It’s what the band and I are working on right now. Yoongi, uh—he’s the one who’s working through the tone and the instruments, and—well, that stuff. I’m just kind of there to sing and look pretty.”

You opened your eyes again to give him a look. “You wrote the lyrics.”

“I—yeah, okay. And I wrote the lyrics.” He took a deep breath. “This is—it’s still a demo, though, so—you know. Keep an open mind.”

You froze as soon as he pressed “play” on the voice note. This appeared to be the eleventh version of the song, as indicated by the number at the end of the title.

The recording began with soft, but quick guitar chords. The song was not slow-paced and seemed much more postcore than the band’s usual music. Even though his guitar was the only instrument accompanying his hesitant but clear voice, you could easily imagine an overlay of drums and bass.

How I run when my phone lights up with a text /

My friends all know, “is that your ex?” /

They said I bet you want her, bet you love her, bet you can’t forget /

I don’t remember why I lied, why I agreed, why I made the bet

You turned to look at Jungkook, your eyes filled with graphic surprise, but he was staring at his phone, his lower lip trapped between his teeth. He was tugging on it so forcefully that his lip ring strained against his skin.

The music shifted into a rhythmic bridge—Jungkook had stopped strumming and began to tap the body of the guitar instead, mimicking the beat of Hoseok’s drums.

This feels like a disease I suffer /

Might break just thinking of her /

Can’t breathe, cannot recover /

I love her, I fucking love her

“The chorus is next, and—” Jungkook cut in over the music, “—it’s very simple, but it’s not done yet. It should still sound better with Yoongi’s guitar, and all the rest.”

Immediately, he returned to his own guitar in the recording, the chords rapid and eager as he sang—his voice louder, more forced, emanating from deep within his diaphragm as the song reached the chorus:

I can’t look you in the eyes /

When all I say are these stupid lies /

The memories of when you were mine /

Are playing in my tired mind /

Scared to fail, so I’d rather get high /

Yeah, but I have to stand up and try

The song slowed for the exit of the chorus and Jungkook sang it to complete silence:

And this is nothing fucking new, /

I’ve always been in love with you

You sucked in a breath and closed your eyes again. If your heart hadn’t been pounding so intensely, you might have been able to envision what the musical break that followed after the chorus would sound like once it was accompanied by Taehyung’s bass.

Before you could try to calm yourself, however, Jungkook began the second verse on the recording:

How I miss you and this feeling is all that inspires /

How this pain shifts, grows, how it turns into fires /

It will burn when I write, when I think, when I sing /

Flames will turn to ashes, turn to words, turn to ink

Right as the chorus started again—his voice growing more passionate as he lost himself in the song—Jungkook cleared his throat and commented over the recording, “I wrote that part in Oslo. While—after I asked you to come meet me at the bar.”

You nodded—or thought you nodded; all movement felt surreal right now—and listened in silence.

“The refrain,” Jungkook spoke again as the second chorus ended and the music began to speed up, “is my favourite part. It’s kind of pop-punk, largely inspired by blink-182, but it’s also just… it’s a way to get it all out.”

As soon as he finished talking, you heard the refrain on the recording—his words were rushed, the music barely catching up.

Biffy Clyro at a wedding, but we dance on separate floors /

Hotel bathrooms and champagne, we’re hiding there with open doors /

Years ago before I saw you, I was lost without a cause /

You changed my life from the first time that our paths had crossed /

I knew about you way before, I didn’t think this through /

I walked up to you after class, because our meeting’s overdue /

Years later we’re in Paris, I looked around and knew – /

It was always you, it was always you, it was always you

You focused on the screen of his phone as the song played and you did not dare to move—not even when the final chorus finished, and he reached over to stop the recording.

He asked, “what did you think?” and you realised that your mind was as silent as this room once the song ended.

You felt lost in the echoing recesses of your mind. There were so many things in your head and at the same time, there weren’t any at all. Because everything—from the first time he introduced himself to you after class, to Chloé and Kihyun’s wedding in Paris, to the bet he’d made with Sid and Jude—had just been said.

“I… think you are insane,” you said, glancing at him. “And also incredibly talented to manage to put all of that into a—into one song.”

“Yeah?” A satisfied grin was playing on his lips and you couldn’t take your eyes off it. “Did you like it?”

You shook your head, because this was too feeble—like. Sitting on his bed in this room, you doubted if you had ever simply liked anything when it came to Jungkook. Every emotion you felt for him had always been so much more intense and infinitely deeper.

“It’s—fuck, it’s a great song,” you said, tapping your palm against the bed. Jungkook recognised the beat and felt his heart soar. The whole room seemed to brighten, not at all threatened by the darkness outside the window. “It sounded good. The rhythm—it’s really good. I can see it becoming a crowd favourite.”

“Thanks,” he said but did not relent. In all the crowds in the world, he was going to search for you. “But what did you think?”

Watching him watch you, you said awkwardly, “I liked your voice.”

He laughed, finding the real compliment in your flustered expression and your struggle to answer his question directly.

“Alright,” he said. “I’ll take it.”

“Was this the song you played for Yoongi and Namjoon that time?” you asked, so you could avoid giving feedback about the way he captured your whole life in his lyrics, and now your heartbeat matched the rhythm of the song. “W-when Yoongi came to talk to me, worried about you?”

Jungkook still nursed a bitterness about Yoongi’s initial reaction to the song and pursed his lips.

“Yeah, um—at the time, I only had the second verse,” he said. “That’s probably why he was concerned.”

“Well,” you dropped a pillow onto your lap, “it doesn’t sound like a heartbreak anthem.”

He snorted. “I hope not.”

You did not say anything else for a while.

You were not in control of anything that was happening inside of you right now, so this was the best you could offer. A big part of your brain was preoccupied with keeping you seated on your side of the bed instead of reaching—lunging—for him, and an even bigger part was still processing the song he had just played. This left you with very little strength to be eloquent.

You liked the song. You liked his voice. You were worried the fire inside your chest would do irreparable damage to your heart. You wondered what went on in your mum’s head when she heard it.

“I can’t believe you sent that to my mum, though,” you voiced your latest thought. “The whole thing?”

“Yeah,” he said with a shrug because getting feedback from your mum had become a regular practice. He had continued to reach out to her even after you started to manage Rated Riot.

“With the curses and everything?” you asked, your nose scrunched.

He laughed again. You looked so beautiful like this, analysing his lyrics in your head. He didn’t know what to do with himself.

“She knows I curse,” he said. “She’s read most of my lyrics. Also, I am twenty-six.”

“Still,” you muttered. “There’s so much—you, um—you mention the bet in the song.”

His expression grew serious.

“Yeah. One of the first times I texted your mum, I…” he paused here, tracing his fingers lightly over his eyelids. “Well, actually, I was drunk, so I mostly remember this from the screenshots I took. I asked her if I could write a song that would bring you back to me. I was really—well, drunk and, you know. Sentimental. And she said—and I actually remember this part, because, somehow, no one else thought to say this to me—she said that I could, but I had to be honest in my lyrics.”

He fell silent, but it didn’t feel like an invitation for you to respond.

Looking up at you after a minute, Jungkook continued, “every song I wrote about you was honest. I meant every single word in every single verse. And I was hoping one of them would bring you back.”

It began as a faint buzzing in your chest and escalated into a gentle whisper, then erupted into a loud scream, filled with all the longing that’s been there all this time—mostly dormant, but restless. This longing wasn’t buried under mundane, daily tasks, it just existed right there in your chest, pushing sharply into your heart every time you thought you forgot, thought you moved on.

Every time you looked at him, every time you remembered him, every time you fell asleep, the longing was there, and it was growing, always growing—even more rapidly now that you and Jungkook began to spend more time together. By now, it had grown far larger than your chest could hold. And it was screaming.

“I’m—I don’t—I’m not sure I was ever really gone,” you confessed. “I think I... I actually called my mum with a decision already made. And I just needed her to say it was going to be okay. Because, you know. She’s my mum.”

There it was—the explosion he’d been waiting for. He could see the clouds in the distance but he hadn’t felt the impact yet.

“W-what’s your decision?” he asked.

“I want to try,” you said. “If you—if you’d—”

“I swear to God,” he interjected, his voice gaining volume as his heart rate gained speed. “If you're going to ask me if I want to be with you, I’m not sure I’ll make it.”

A smile flickered across your features, but you clutched the bedsheets underneath you tighter to control your expression.

“Let’s give this a chance,” Jungkook said, echoing everything that your heart demanded from you. “I know you’re scared of what this could mean for your job, and—”

“No,” you cut him off. “That—what happens with my job, happens. That feels—it feels like something we can figure out. But I want to try, and that’s what’s scary. Because this isn’t something we can solve, we either work out or we don’t. And I’m scared I won’t always be able to overcome my fear that we might not work. I’m scared I’ll still try to run away from everything.”

“I’ll find you,” he said, and your heart threatened to stop. “I’ll always find you.”

“You shouldn’t have to, though,” you protested weakly. “That’s not fair.”

“My love,” he said, sliding closer to you on the bed. You felt very light-headed. “Anything’s fair to me when it comes to you. Stay and let me make you happy.”

It was remarkable how his hotel bed managed to fit both of you and all that you’d carried inside you for all these years.

You shook your head.

“I’m happy,” you said. “This is right where I’ve always wanted to be. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jungkook looked at you, and he felt like he was nineteen again, watching you from across the campus quad. Thoughts of how to approach you—how to talk to you; how to look at you—were running rampant in his overstimulated mind. He had just left Sociology class where he’d doodled and daydreamed about you the whole time and now that he had a chance to talk to you, his legs had turned to stone.

He knew you liked Hayao Miyazaki, and he thought, alright, he would lead with that. And then in a frantic attempt to explain his determined stride towards you with a murderous expression on his face, he had ended up introducing himself as Neighbour Totoro.

Your smile in response should have been plastered on billboards; and was, on billboards, actually—all over the canyons of his mind. All he could do after that was just stammer about seeing you around campus, noticing that you shared a few classes together, finding it really cute when you dozed off during your professor’s philosophical rants, and wishing very much that the earth would open up and swallow him whole because what the fuck was he saying to you right now—and you’d smiled again. And the stones in his legs had melted.

You gave him your phone number and invited him to a party that someone on your floor was throwing that Friday. And you’d said, “I think it’d be really cool if you came,” but all that he could hear had been the violent pounding in his chest.

His heart pounded just as intensely now.

“Yeah?” he asked you, breathless and half-drunk as the rest of his hotel room drowned in your eyes.

He thought he could feel the earth move. He thought he could will it to stop, to pause for just a split second until you replied and he could—

“Yeah.”

He had arrived at that party back then, and you had found him right away. You’d spent the whole night talking until he finally mustered up the courage to ask you to hang out alone sometime. Maybe watch a film and have dinner? And you’d said yes.

You’d said yes seven years ago, and now you were here – saying yes, again.

Jungkook reached for you so quickly that you barely noticed the smile on his face, let alone the one on yours. His hands were soft on your cheek as he leaned in, pressing his lips to yours in a clumsy kiss—but your mouths needed less than a second to find a familiar rhythm.

His tongue met yours, and he tasted like the memory of every time you’d kissed him before and a promise of every time you’d kiss him in the future. He tasted like everything you’ve ever wanted and everything you thought you’d lost.

“Did you know,” he whispered, his words punctuated by heavy breaths and your lips smacking against each other, “that I dreamt about you—on the night before you showed up at the company—as our manager—?”

You pulled back slightly to be able to look at him, your lips parted in a surprised smile. “No. What did you dream about?”

“This, actually,” he said, kissing you once more and frowning when you pulled back again, waiting for him to explain. “Except neither one of us pulled away.” He paused here, looking at you very meaningfully. You pressed another kiss to his lips and he grinned, continuing finally, “I hadn’t dreamt of you in months, and I woke up from a text message in the middle of kissing you in that dream. I was obviously pissed. I looked at the text, and it was from Yoongi. He was saying, ‘we’re meeting our manager today, don’t be late’ or something like that. And I remembered debating just going back to sleep. But I forced myself out of bed, thinking that this manager better be worth it.”

Your smile was absurd. “Was she?”

He nodded, tracing his fingers down your neck to your collarbones, and bringing goosebumps to the surface of your skin.

“She was,” he said.

“You didn’t say one word to me throughout that whole meeting, though,” you pointed out.

Jungkook shrugged.

“I hadn’t seen you in two years,” he said. “I was afraid that if I opened my mouth, I would tell you how long I’d been waiting for you.”

You did not feel yourself respond with a defeated, breathless, “oh,” but Jungkook smiled when he heard it.

“Yeah,” he said, leaning in. “Hardly professional.”

“Mmhm—” your hum drowned in his kiss. “Hardly.”

There was something artificially sweet on his tongue when you kissed him back—likely from the gummy bears—and it made your hands instinctively reach for his shirt, pulling him closer. He wondered if you noticed the way his heart rate quickened at that; he found your need for him exhilarating.

You kissed him harder and remembered all your stolen kisses throughout this tour. This did not feel anything like it.

This kiss was not hurried—not until the five minutes you’ve allotted yourselves were up. It wasn’t secret—not until you had to leave your hotel room in Amsterdam. It wasn’t pretend—not until you had to admit to yourselves that you weren’t and could not be friends. And it wasn’t a dream, either—not until one of you had to wake up and realise that this had just been your subconsciousness, refusing to let go. To move on.

The kiss was slow. It was not rushed, and not hidden. It was true, and it was real.

Your heart finally returned home.

Then, Jungkook slowly pulled away, his pupils dilated and filled with something distracting that lingered on his mind.

“You didn’t say anything to me, either,” he said slowly. “When we started to work together, I mean.”

“I know,” you replied, letting go of him. It did not feel fair to touch him when he said that, but Jungkook felt lost for a moment after you pulled back your hands. “I wasn’t sure if I should.”

“Hmm.” He needed to find the string attached to the words he’d kept inside, and he needed to pull them out, but he could only do that by looking away. “I, uh—I get that now, but back then, I felt very, um—well, left-out, I guess. For lack of a better word. You talked to everyone else but me.”

You were struck by the immediacy and the clarity of these memories: how you’d made a deliberate effort not to talk to him unless it was necessary, because that was the only way you could stay professional. In hindsight, that should have probably been a hint. If you had to go to such lengths to avoid someone in order to remain professional, it likely meant you weren’t truly professional, just pretending to be.

“I know,” you said. “I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s—well, I could have said something, too,” Jungkook said. “But after a while, it seemed to me like we’d silently agreed to just ignore our relationship, so it didn’t feel right to bring it up again. I didn’t want to make things awkward.”

Your smile broke through the sombre atmosphere in the room. You couldn’t listen to this without pointing out his reactions to you in those first few days. Jungkook had been very loud about doubting your authority.

“You used to complain about me all the time in the beginning,” you reminded him. “You said you wouldn’t take orders from a kid.”

He grinned, remembering, too.

“Well, I had to say that,” he defended, a glint of mischief in his eye. Age had been his favourite argument against working with you. “How else could I hide that I still had feelings for you?

You looked away—he expected this, and his smile grew wider. You thought you had him there. But he knew that in all the years you’ve known each other, you could not find a moment where he didn’t love you. He couldn’t find one himself.

“Maggie told me you were the one who told her we had dated,” you said then.

Jungkook did not immediately remember. “I did?”

“Yeah,” you confirmed. “We were all drinking together, and you—”

“Oh, yeah,” he cut in, nodding. He recalled Maggie responding to him as though he’d told her he was an escaped convict. “In the parking lot. I don’t think she believed me at first, actually. I was very good at acting unbothered.”

You arched an eyebrow. “She said she came to check on you because Hoseok noticed that you seemed bothered.”

Jungkook clicked his tongue. “Well, Hoseok notices these things. It doesn’t count.”

You grinned, shaking your head.

Jungkook, meanwhile, remembered something else now that you’d mentioned Maggie. It was something he’d held close to his heart for years, and he was hesitant to bring it up now. He knew it was probably not real, but he held onto the ignorant hope that it might be.

“Did you… tell anyone on the staff?” he asked.

“Hm? About us?” you clarified.

He nodded.

“Just the band,” you said.

“Oh.” He held his breath as he considered how to explain this, and how to brace himself for your response. “Because, um—well, apparently, Maggie spoke to Jin after I talked to her. And then Jin talked to Jimin. And Jimin told me that he thought I just had a crush on you.”

“A year ago?” you clarified, a little uneasy about the timeline.

The girls had tried to reassure you last night that you and Jungkook were really not that obvious—but perhaps the truth was that you had wasted all these years just like you feared.

You put unnecessary strain on your heart because you’d convinced yourself that this was how things were meant to be. You’d convinced yourself that Jungkook really did not love you anymore. And when you realised that maybe he still did, you’d convinced yourself that second chances did not work, and it was better to suffer through the initial break-up for years rather than attempt to try again.

“Yeah.” Jungkook swallowed, getting to his point. “And, um—a while after that, Namjoon said he thought you might have a crush on me.”

You blinked, feeling your heart leap into a thrilled dance, each beat a self-assured I told you so.

“Namjoon said that?” you asked weakly.

“Yeah,” he said, keeping his eyes on you. “We were both drunk, trying to work on a song, and not doing so well. I was upset about something that day, so I thought he was just saying that to comfort me. Cheer me up. He said he noticed you staring at me during our meeting earlier that day. He said he thought it was meaningful. Said you didn’t seem to just be dozing off.”

I told you so—

I told you—

You remembered that meeting.

You remembered looking away from Jungkook and meeting Namjoon’s raised eyebrows. You hadn’t realised you’d been staring. But he had.

Right now, in the hotel room, you did not say anything, but Jungkook felt the bubble of hope swell in his chest, straining as it threatened to explode.

It was true, then.

You had been watching him during that meeting. So much so that it led Namjoon—a very smart, but arguably the most oblivious man in the country—to notice that something was going on.

You cleared your throat. “Did he—uh, did he know about—”

“He knew I was writing about you,” Jungkook replied. “The second he yelled at me and told me to stop writing about abstract feelings and start writing from my own chest, I pulled out three different songs for him. He always knew.”

“Hmm.”

A moment of silence followed, allowing the two of you to simmer in the sounds coming from your chests.

You thought you were trying very hard to ignore him and focus on your job, and you did, really. Especially when you first started to work together. But gradually, the less you talked about your relationship to each other, the more your suppressed feelings made themselves known: it was the way you always happened to stand next to each other at the label events. It was the way Jungkook was the only one who remembered where your office was in the labyrinth of corridors at the company building. It was the way you looked at him when you talked to him. It was the way he teased you at every chance he got.

“So, the roadies thought you were dating Namjoon,” Jungkook concluded, “while Jimin thought I liked you, and Namjoon thought you liked me.”

“Yeah. Apparently, we’re all twelve,” you said. “I love how that’s ongoing, too. We’re still a very hot topic.”

Jungkook chuckled, seemingly as entertained about this as Seokjin had been when he mentioned the bets the staff had going about the two of you.

“I know,” he said, trying to restrain his reaction for your sake. “But it—it’s just us. You know? We’re the only ones who really know about us. You and me. And about fifty people on this tour with us, but that’s—well, who cares?”

“Yeah,” you said with a shrug of your shoulders. “Not a big deal.”

He heard the sarcasm in your tone, but he still grinned. “Yeah.”

You looked down and brought your hands over your sweatpants, and his smile faded. He seemed to react to your next words before you even said them.

“I’ll have to, um—I’ll have to talk to the label about us,” you said. “I’ll have to tell them.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

Another silence stole away any remaining words. Jungkook wondered if the two of you were really as powerful as he’d imagined. He wondered if you had the authority to decide what you’d do.

“What do you think they’ll say?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you replied. There was a calmness in your voice that he wasn’t expecting. “We’ll see.”

“Should I—should I talk to them with you?” he suggested—and realised right away that this would not work.

“Probably not,” you replied gently. “It’ll feel a little like we’re talking to our parents. And not, you know, our employers.”

“Right.”

You glanced at him and realised that he appeared more worried than you felt. You thought that perhaps this was how it was between you two: one of you panicked while the other stayed level-headed to provide reassurance.

“It’ll be fine,” you said. “We got so far, right?”

“Yeah,” he said, chewing on his bottom lip. “But, I mean, what if they say this can’t happen?”

“Well, then we break up, of course.”

He gave you a long, questioning look. “I’m serious.”

“I am, too,” you replied, not serious at all.

He rolled his eyes. “Oh, now you want to joke about it. Okay.”

You laughed, and immediately made him smile, too. Leaning into him—almost reflexively—you placed a hand on his chest and gently pulled him down onto the bed until the two of you were lying face-to-face. Finally, he laughed, too.

The truth was, you felt nervous as well. But some innate balance required you to look on the bright side when he couldn’t. Surely, if you overcame yourselves, you could overcome external hurdles, too.

“I’m not joking,” you said. “It’ll be fine. We, um—we know our issues now. I think we can figure out what we should do no matter what happens. We’ve grown.”

Jungkook looked at you for a minute, then finally exhaled and reached out to touch your cheek.

“Alright,” he said, the tips of his fingers careful as they traced over the side of your jaw. “We have. We used to never talk to each other.”

“Yeah, that had always been the core problem with us,” you agreed, leaning into his touch and singlehandedly stopping his heart for a dangerous minute.

The two of you found it very easy to point out your flaws now—like teachers marking all the issues in a student’s essay: lack of communication, toxic friendships, parental trauma.

“None of that now?” Jungkook asked.

“None of that now,” you agreed, closing your eyes.

You felt him scoot closer to you on the bed as his palm replaced the tips of his fingers on your cheek.

“I’m not going to shut up about how much I love you, though,” he whispered.

You looked at him again, and your smile stretched from one corner of his hotel room to the other.

“I’ll take that over silence,” you said.

He responded with a shuddered breath and moved closer. His lips found yours blindly, but effortlessly. His kiss was soft, slow, and lingering because now you had all the time in the world and he was determined to savour every moment.

Pulling back slightly, he brought his nose to yours, and the air you exhaled as you chuckled softly made him close his eyes again. He kissed your cheek and the corner of your lips and the edge of your jaw, and somewhere along the way, he realised that he had wanted to say something else but now he forgot all about it. He kissed your lips once more instead. Then twice more—until you were smiling too much for the kiss to feel like anything other than a gentle peck.

He settled back on the bed next to you. He was so close that you could barely look at him without your eyes going out of focus. And he was beautiful like this—his hair falling in loose, messy curls around his face, his eyes alive with an energy so powerful that you could not look away from him once your gazes met. His lips were parted as he breathed steadily, running his tongue over his lower lip.

You watched each other just like you had earlier in the corridor, with the tips of your fingers locked onto each other’s skin as though transferring electricity from one heart to the other, and back again.

“I’m sorry I did not want to talk about our relationship,” you finally admitted, your voice a timid whisper. “I thought the safe choice would be to speak to you one-on-one as little as possible. And after a few months, it became easier to be in the same room with you without my hands shaking, and my heart—well, anyway. I didn’t want to ruin what little stability we had with each other. Even though for a long time—maybe even the whole time, I don’t know anymore—we were there, in the back of my mind.”

He exhaled. “We could have talked about us before.”

“We should have talked about us before,” you corrected.

“Right.” He rolled onto his back. “Instead, I drank three bars into bankruptcy in those first few months after you started working with us.”

He remembered Sid’s messages as soon as he said this, and for a brief, irrational moment, he waited for you to stand up and leave the room. Instead, he was startled when he saw you smile out of the corner of his eye.

“I know,” you said softly. “I was asked to pay off your debt at one of them.”

He turned to face you, his eyes wide. “No—w-were you really?”

“Yeah,” you said. “Sid called and gave me an ultimatum: either I came to pay for your bill or the bar owner was going to call the police on you.”

Jungkook had to really concentrate to remember anything, and he quickly felt embarrassed that he even tried. He could not remember his own name, that was how drunk he would get in those days. He couldn’t bring them back to his memory now, no matter how much he tried.

“Where was Sid, then?” he asked.

“I don’t know,” you replied. “Probably tripping on something in a random hotel. He never called me if he was still with you.”

Jungkook swallowed, his thoughts racing.

“Well, I mean—shit,” he said. “How much do I owe you?”

“You don’t,” you replied. “I came to the bar and told the owner your name was Isidore Mercer-Hastings, and that they should contact the police to settle the bill for whatever you drank that night.”

Jungkook raised his eyebrows. He thought he lacked Sid’s perpetual sneer to pass as someone from a conglomerate family.

“They believed it?” he asked.

“Well, they didn’t know who you were,” you said. “And it was resolved very quietly after that. I doubt the bar owner even managed to write a report after he mentioned the name at the station.”

“Someone in Sid’s family must have handled it,” Jungkook speculated. You thought so as well. “Sid never said anything.”

“I don’t think he expected me to fight back, actually,” you said. “In any case, I paid the price. After that, he started leaving you in all kinds of shitholes for me to find a lot more frequently.”

Jungkook realised that a ball had formed in his throat.

“I-I didn’t even notice it,” he admitted. “He—he had me by the throat, and I thought he just wanted to hang out with me.”

You didn’t want the topic to shift to Sid, but it felt inevitable. He was the additional burden on your relationship, he always had been.

“And he’s in London now,” you said, sighing.

Jungkook exhaled, too. “Yeah.”

“What are we going to do?”

He looked at you for only a moment, but his eyes were filled with an unexpected alarm.

“I’m—well, nothing?” he said. “I don’t know.”

“But—I mean, he has to be here for you, right?” you questioned.

Jungkook’s phone weighed heavily in his pocket.

“He probably is,” he said.

“So, he stalked you all the way to London,” you noted. “I think we should start considering the possibility of you getting a restraining order against him, or—”

Jungkook whipped his head to face you. “Isn’t that—uh, a bit dramatic?”

Frowning, you propped yourself up on your elbows and turned to him. “He is stalking you, Jungkook.”

He looked away and brought his finger over the bedsheets. If Sid had sent him only that one video, perhaps Jungkook could have handled it quietly. But Sid had kept them coming.

And Jungkook had already tried it before: this method of not telling you and hoping to find a way out of a predicament that he’d allowed Sid to put him in. It hadn’t been successful. He had no intention of trying it again.

“To be honest,” he said, sitting up, “that is not the only thing he is doing.”

Your stomach clenched with something it had come to know very well over the past few days – pure dread.

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“He, um—he’s sending me things.”

“Oh, God.” You turned away from him, groaning. “Don’t tell me he’s sending you the body parts of people he’s stalked before.”

“N-no, that—no,” Jungkook said and then paused to snicker at the thought. “He’s just—he’s sending me videos.”

You did not feel relieved. The way he said it made it sound like it was not just videos. It sounded like it might as well have been severed limbs.

“What videos?” you asked reluctantly.

He hesitated before answering, hoping—almost irrationally—that he would find a way to summarise the videos for you in a way that would diminish their significance. But he was worried he’d make it worse instead. He didn’t want to casually mention them or act like it was not a big deal, only to hear your negative response. You’d think he was still incapable of realising what he was doing, you’d think he hadn’t changed—and he had. He was sure he had. But his hands were shaking as he tugged on the bedsheets and refused to look at you.

“Of—of me,” he finally admitted. “Of us hanging out together before this tour.”

“Oh.”

He did not like the thickness of the silence around you. He didn’t want this to turn into yet another problem. And it wasn’t—it was a continuous problem that he’d willingly brought on this tour.

Jungkook couldn’t stop blaming himself for everything he did with Sid, and now he was convinced that his guilt wouldn’t even make a difference. He’d tell you about this, and the videos would be too much, and he would not be enough.

You’d warned him you were afraid; he didn’t want to add more doubts to what already seemed like a hesitant decision. Of course, he believed in your relationship too much to think that you were willing to try again just for his benefit. He believed you wanted this, too. But he was also rational enough to understand that you couldn’t just wish for your relationship to work out this time, and it simply would. You had to work on that. And he was sure that these videos would hinder the progress you’ve already made.

He decided he didn’t want to talk to you about this as though he needed your help solving this issue. He wanted to tell you about it with a solution already in his mind.

“T-they’re not good,” he added. “But I—”

“Why is he sending them to you?” you interrupted.

He paused, rearranging his thoughts. He wondered if you were intentionally avoiding asking him to show you the videos, or if you did not want to see them. He was not sure which option he preferred.

“He’s, um, threatening to show them to you,” he said.

“Unless you do what?”

“Unless—” He paused again. “I—I don’t know, actually. I don’t think he wants me to do anything. He’s just taunting me. I tried to block the number, but I assume he has multiple disposable SIM cards or something because I keep—well, different unknown numbers keep sending me videos from the same… situations.”

You looked away, absentmindedly patting the pillows on the bed.

You were certain that Sid had a goal in mind, he just hadn’t told Jungkook about it yet.

“Well, what’s in those videos?” you asked.

Jungkook shut his eyes. He was sure of it now—he would have preferred it if you hadn’t asked about the contents of the videos, after all.

“We’re—we’re drunk in all of them,” he said, his tongue catching on the dryness of his mouth. “Just doing dumb shit. Shit that I thought I left in the past. I know I left it in the past, I’m just—but with Sid pulling it all out now, it feels like—it feels like I’m still there.”

You frowned, puzzled.

“But you’re not still there,” you pointed out.

“I’m not,” Jungkook said, but his voice sounded distant. “But it—you were always the one who made sure that Sid and I didn’t damage the band’s reputation, or—well, anything else. I’m sorry about that, by the way. I-I don’t want you to think that all that you’ve done was in vain, and I don’t want you to think I’m still the same—I know I’m not—but it feels like—”

“Jungkook,” you said, cutting him off by placing your hand on his shoulder.

His distress reminded you of the night he told you that Sid was in Manchester with you. He was breathing heavily, barely able to choose his words. He thought, clearly, that you were going to blame him for this. He thought he’d let you down.

“Show me,” you asked.

And he showed you—because he knew he had to. He took a deep breath, sat down next to you, and played the videos for you, starting from the very first one.

But like he had yesterday, he cut the video off just as his hands reached out for his dance partner and he wrapped one of his legs around their ankles.

“Wait,” you raised your eyes to Jungkook’s restless gaze, “what happens next?”

“I, um—” he paused, attempted to inhale, and forgot all his words.

He thought he showed you enough. He thought showing you the rest of the video was going to be bad. He hadn’t considered how bad it would be if he had to recap it himself.

“I flip this person on their back,” he said, forcing himself to continue. He was going to tell you everything, even if he had to rip his heart out to do it. “We, uh—we make out. Or try to. It’s, uh—it’s definitely too much. But we’re drunk. Then a security guard comes to tell us we can’t do that here. I then declare that we’re getting married, so he can, respectfully, get fucked. And all of us get escorted out of the club.”

“Ah,” you said. “You must have been really wasted.”

Your voice sounded disconnected somehow—like you hadn’t fully grasped that he was the person in the video.

Or, he thought in a brief moment of lightness, maybe you had grasped it, but it made no difference because it’s been so long.

But Jungkook couldn’t hold onto this hopeful thought for too long. He felt he deserved stronger adjectives.

“Is this it?” you asked after a moment. His phone screen had gone dark after he hadn’t pressed on anything else. “Is that all he—”

“No,” he said. “That’s, um—that’s only the first one he sent.”

Then he played you the three newest videos—the ones he’d just received earlier today after he turned his phone back on.

All the videos were from days that he could scarcely remember. Sid had filmed him dancing, arguing, screaming, engaging in other activities that would earn a community label if the video got publicised, and drinking. Alcohol was featured heavily in all the videos.

You maintained a neutral expression through the first few clips but finally frowned when you watched the third one. In it, Jungkook was having a heated argument with someone outside what appeared to be a nightclub—the only indication was a bright neon sign behind the two figures on the screen.

Jungkook was visibly agitated in the video, hurling all curses known to mankind—and some only known to animalkind—at a red-faced man whom you did not recognise. The man remained silent, swaying slightly on his feet, frowning more and more with each passing second.

You attempted to remember this moment, trying to place the street where the video was taken—you thought Sid had asked you to pick up Jungkook from somewhere around here. But as you watched it, you could not remember Jungkook harassing a seemingly random person. And then you realised that this likely wasn’t a random person, and Jungkook wasn’t the one harassing him.

Turning your head to look at him, you were surprised to see the resolute defeat on Jungkook’s face. He appeared to be waiting to be sentenced.

“He cut the video,” you said, looking back at his phone, “to make you look intentionally aggressive. This guy—he approached you at the bar, didn’t he?”

Jungkook only hummed. It took him another minute to relax his muscles so he could speak—by that time, the video had already ended, and he snickered bitterly.

“Yeah. He used a few pretty slurs, so I told him we should take it outside,” he said. “Right after the video ended, he actually threw a vodka bottle at my head. It didn’t hit me, but we got into a—a fight, and I cut myself on a shard. No stitches, but, um, it bled like a bitch.”

“Fuck, that’s—I-I remember you bleeding,” you said, looking away. You’d wrapped your scarf on his hand when you found him behind that club, on the street from the video, sometime later. He’d refused a hospital and you had not slept the whole night after you dropped him off at his house. “What was Sid doing while that was happening?”

“Well, he watched,” Jungkook said, locking his phone. “He watched and filmed, and now he’s trying to make it seem like I picked that fight.”

You quieted. The videos had made it very clear that Sid was crafting a narrative about Jungkook—to make him look like an ungrateful, aggressive, alcoholic womaniser. Clearly, he was creating Jungkook’s fictional image after himself, and you would have pointed out the irony if you weren’t so annoyed.

“I know it’s my fault,” Jungkook added. “I shouldn’t have allowed him to get under my skin like that, but—”

“How long ago was this?” you interjected.

“I—it—a while,” he said, worried that this was the wrong answer. “I can’t remember.”

“Were you in Rated Riot?” you asked, hoping to determine a more specific timeline, because understanding when the videos were taken might help you figure out what Sid wanted. But you also just wanted to keep asking Jungkook for technical details to keep him out of his own head.

“I think so,” Jungkook said. “Because—I’m trying to figure out why Sid chose to send me these specific videos since I’m sure he has a lot of other great ones, you know what I mean? So, why these?”

“Why?”

“I think it’s because he called you to come pick me up at the end of these nights,” he said with an unsettling hollowness behind his eyes. “And you—well, I don’t remember, but according to what Sid told me later, you never asked what we were doing. You just pulled me out of these situations… and brought me home. A-and now he wants to show you that—he wants you to know what we were doing. What I was doing.”

“Okay,” you said. “But it—it’s been ages.”

He seemed taken aback by the ease in your voice, and his surprise was crushing. You realised he was expecting you not to talk to him again now that you’ve seen the videos.

To Jungkook, that would have made sense.

For years, his self-worth depended on how he was perceived and whether he lived up to expectations. And he balanced between wanting to live up to very different expectations from very different people: Sid, on the one hand. You and his grandmother, on the other.

That was why he didn’t tell his grandmother that he was friends with Sid. It was why he didn’t tell you about all his failed attempts at making your relationship special. It was why he refused to admit to Sid that he still loved you.

And, ultimately, it was why he did not want to reminisce about the nights in Sid’s videos. Nights when he knew he was making mistakes, but he needed to escape from his thoughts too much to care.

Jungkook realised all that. He understood. But there was nothing he could do with the voices, screaming at him in his head. They were telling him that his friends had all turned to reasons why you broke up that first time. He turned them into those reasons. And now those reasons were right here, on his phone.

“I know. But I just—it feels like this is something I can’t run away from,” he said. “It feels like Sid is telling me that this is who I really am. That I’ll always fuck up in the end, and that I’ll die trying—and failing—to be someone better.”

You were shaking your head, and Jungkook shook his, too, to counter your refusal to agree with him.

“No, look, I think that Sid means to use this to, well, to humiliate us,” he insisted. “Or—or just you. Like, ‘see what he was doing? And you still took care of him.’ So you would—you would realise what I’m—what kind of person—and you would change your mind about me—and about—about this. And then...”

He could not find the end of his sentence, but you knew what this was. Jungkook excelled in most things, but he had a throbbing Achilles’ heel – it was his fear of disappointing the people who mattered most to him.

The first time you learned this about him was at his twenty-first birthday party. Minjun, already very drunk, had decided to make a toast and told everyone a story about when he and Jungkook were fourteen. Among all of Jungkook’s friends, Minjun was the only one who’d actually been to his house, and on that day, they were riding bicycles around Jungkook’s front yard with Jungkook and his cousins. Jungkook wanted to perform a trick and he wanted Minjun to record it to brag to Sid later. But as soon as he lifted the front wheel off the ground, he ended up in his grandmother’s azaleas.

The story at the birthday party ended there, with everyone politely laughing and clapping, but Jungkook gave you the rest of it later.

Apparently, his grandmother had warned him about the flowers in advance; she told him not to bike there. And he had. He’d done what she told him not to do. Really, it was because he wanted to outdo Sid, so this could have been another thing that Sid had ruined—but Jungkook couldn’t even get to that part. He was already defeated by the sheer force of his guilt for letting his grandmother down. He was devastated.

He said she hadn’t even yelled at him after she saw how grief-stricken he was. But he still replanted the whole garden and watered the shrubs every day.

And as you listened to Minjun’s story at that birthday party, you realised that even then, almost a decade later, Jungkook flinched every time his friend mentioned azaleas. And he would keep flinching, as you would see in years to come, whenever his grandmother would bring up her garden.

Jungkook never forgot his mistakes, and they all weighed heavily on him. He could only escape them when he was surrounded by people, their voices drowning out his own.

He thought no one knew—he took a paradoxical solace in the belief that only he and the voices in his head knew about what went on inside him—but you’ve seen it over the years.

“No—but these things don’t make you a terrible person,” you said. It didn’t feel like enough, but the thoughts in your head were fast and frail—you could not find one to settle on.

Still, Jungkook looked stunned.

“I—they don’t?” he asked—with a genuine confusion that broke your heart.

“Jungkook,” you said, the edges of your voice desperate.

“No, I—I know,” he said, averting his gaze. “I know. But—really, this is my fault. I did that. I went out with him. It’s—”

“Your fault was staying with Sid for so long,” you interrupted. “That’s your only fault. But realising what was wrong with these people that you surrounded yourself with—that—that’s not wrong. That’s good. You’ve come a long way from the days in those videos.”

He heard you. But a sudden memory still resurfaced in his head: Taehyung had talked to him in the hotel corridor in Amsterdam. He had accused him of fooling around with you and reminded him that your relationship affected the whole band. Jungkook had told him he was serious. He wasn’t fooling around.

He’d meant it—but the bet had been ongoing. However much he wished it not to be, it was fucking ongoing.

And now Jungkook was all the more aware of the thin line between your decision to try this again with him, and the absolute recklessness of this choice. Had he come a long way? Was he different? Or was he really just running away from who he really was?

It would affect the whole band, Taehyung had said.

If he wasn’t good enough for you, he would ruin everything.

“But look how long it took me,” he said with a frustrated sigh. “I can’t—I can’t erase all the shit I did just because I suddenly decided to be a different person.”

“You can’t erase it,” you said, the conviction in your voice rivalling his anxiety, “but you can learn and move on from it.”

He shook his head again. “How can I do that when Sid won’t let me move on?”

“You can do it by accepting these videos as lessons,” you said. “But leaving everything in them in the past. You can do it by not letting Sid get to you anymore. I mean, you’re already doing it. You showed me the videos, which was what Sid threatened you with. You took away everything he was holding against you. You’re doing okay, Jungkook.”

He looked down and swallowed.

He wanted to believe he was okay so much. But there were so many weights on his chest and he could not shake them off. He could not escape them. He could not even pretend they were not there.

This was the reason, he knew, why he dreaded being alone and inevitably recalling every single time in his life when he could have been better, but wasn’t. When he could have been more, but chose not to. When he could have chosen you, but didn’t.

He longed for you in a way that he hadn’t longed for anything in his life before—so much that it hurt to think and his whole body felt grey and tense—but he’d already let you down. He’d let himself down.

“I hurt you,” he said after a minute, covering his face with his hands. “And, fuck, I don’t—I’m not saying this to guilt-trip you into forgiving and forgetting everything. I’m just fucking—I’m so fucked up. I love you more than anything in my life, but I-I can’t spend a single minute by myself without thinking about how fucking fucked up I am. And I’ve done so much stupid fucking shit. I don’t want it to hurt you any more than it already fucking has. And I know you’re the last person who should be comforting me about this. I’m just—I can’t get over those—”

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and pressed your chest against his, forcing him to still in your embrace and finally stop speaking.

After a breathless minute, he finally inhaled and you felt him lower his hands from his face and tentatively slide them around your waist, his grip tightening as he buried his face in the crook of your neck.

“I don’t deserve you,” he whispered. It was still his fear talking, you could feel it pressing against your chest as you pulled him closer until you couldn’t breathe, either. “I don’t think I can ever be enough for—”

“You’re you, Jungkook,” you cut him off. “That’s enough for me.”

He let out a shaky breath and closed his eyes; you felt his lashes flutter against the side of your neck.

“I love you,” he whispered. “I’m so sorry.”

You shook your head against his shoulder. “I love you.”

He held you and breathed you in for an amount of time that no clock could not keep up with, but it still felt insufficient. And when you pulled back slightly to look at him, he pressed his lips to yours in a kiss that expressed everything that words could not.

“Thank you,” he added. “For everything.”

You kissed him back—not to say you’re welcome, or no problem. You kissed him to tell him that you had finally made a choice. You were here. And you were staying.

He understood all of it as his lips pressed to yours, as your tongues touched and your breaths mixed together, as his hands settled around your waist as if they’d never been elsewhere. But you sensed his nervous heartbeat against your chest, even though he tried to fight against it.

“Promise me,” he whispered against your lips, “that you’ll tell me if I let you down again.”

Gently—but swiftly—you pulled away.

“I’ll tell you right now,” you said, the firmness in your tone contrasting with the tenderness of your touch as you held a hand to his chest and another one on the side of his face. “You let me down when you put yourself down. We make mistakes, we own up to them, we learn from them. We try too hard, we don’t always succeed, but we get through it together. That’s what we do. And we talk to each other about it all.”

The second you stopped speaking, he pulled you to himself with enough force to knock your breath out of your lungs. You rested your head against his, your heart pounding to the beat of his pulse.

“We’re very co-dependent,” he whispered and the tension in your chest finally eased at his light tone.

“Yes,” you stated. “It’s how we are.”

He snickered and lingered some more in your arms. You rested your hands on his back, rubbing gentle circles and steadily calming down his mind, his heart, and the entirety of his tired soul.

“Maggie, um—she took a picture of us in Amsterdam,” you said. “Did you know?”

He furrowed his eyebrows but allowed you to pull away as he thought about this.

“Wh—oh, in the bathtub?” he asked.

“Yeah. You’ve seen it?”

“Yeah, she sent it to me a while ago,” he said. And, overwhelmed by the honesty of the moment, he added, “it’s beautiful.”

That wasn’t a secret—he’d named his newest song after the moment you’d shared in that bathroom—but he still questioned if he should have said this right now. He could imagine your shock about the picture—that was why he chose not to show it to you when Maggie sent it to him.

But your expression remained gentle, almost pleased.

“Yeah, I liked it, too,” you said. “Well, after I got over the fact that we left the fucking door open.”

He chuckled softly, the sound straining against the cuts and bruises in his chest.

“But anyway, my point is, focus on things like that,” you continued. “That’s who you are. You’re not a video from fuck knows how long ago. Sid doesn’t own you, and he does not control you.”

Jungkook swallowed and lowered his gaze. He nodded his head a few times, but you still started to feel uneasy—was this enough? Or was Sid’s presence in his head still heavier than yours?

You looked around for a distraction, and quickly found one, partially hidden under a stack of cookies.

“We had a film to watch,” you said, pulling your laptop out and accidentally knocking down some of the candy towers he had built on the bed.

Jungkook glanced up and caught a bag of chocolates right before it hit him on the arm. “Oh—w-we had. But how’s your head?”

You had completely forgotten it existed at all, which certainly alleviated your headache. The pure adrenaline from being so close to him probably contributed, too.

“It’s good,” you said, opening your laptop and turning around to adjust the pillows on the bed for more comfort. “I’m great.”

“I still think you should get proper food,” he said, and it struck you that this pattern of worrying, comforting, and taking care of each other in turns was truly a regular occurrence between the two of you.

“I’m fine,” you said. “We’ve got chocolate and more cookies than we should be allowed to eat. I want to live out my nine-year-old fantasy and my dentist’s worst nightmare.”

He smiled at that, but still hesitated. “Okay, but—well, maybe you would rather sleep?”

“I—alright.” You pushed your laptop aside and crossed your arms over your chest. “Now it’s starting to sound like you don’t want to watch this with me.”

“I do,” he said, coming to sit across from you so he could push the laptop back towards you. “I’m just—”

“I’m fine,” you repeated. “I want to be here.”

Hearing that made him happy—the jump-off-buildings kind of happy, where he was glad to have you here or else he really would’ve had no way to keep it all inside himself—but he seemed to still wait for something. The air in the room was still thick with everything that you’d talked about tonight.

“Are you sure?” he asked. “We don’t have to do this—after everything.”

“I want to do this,” you said. And then, responding to the doubts he chose not to voice, you added, “I want to do everything with you.”

He watched as you leaned over your laptop to set up the film across the bed from him. He hadn’t realised he could feel so suffocated from the butterflies in his chest—his stomach could no longer contain them—and he was worried about opening his mouth in case they would try to escape. They’d fill this whole room with their fluttering wings, and the two of you would simply not fit.

“I love you,” he breathed out.

You raised your head and smiled at him—easily, effortlessly. Like you’ve done countless times before.

“I love you, too,” you said.

There wasn’t a building tall enough, he decided. Your voice resonated in his pulse and as long as his heart kept beating, he would always land on the ground perfectly safe.

“Alright,” you said, interrupting his very productive Staring and Smiling. “Let’s watch the film.”

“Alright.”

He returned to his side of the bed and managed to settle on the very edge of it. He watched the paused screen of your laptop and twiddled his thumbs. It took him half a minute to notice you were watching him.

“What?” he asked then.

“You’re comfortable?” you questioned. “Your grandma is going to be disappointed if you tell her that you watched the film but couldn’t even see the screen.”

He looked away. “To be fair, my grandma would be disappointed if she found out I had you in my room and I was across the bed from you.”

You tried everything to suppress your smile, but it crept onto your face in blatant defiance and chose to stay there.

“Well, what’s stopping you from coming closer?” you asked.

“My heart, I think. It might really stop this time.”

You laughed, and he was forced to acknowledge that he did not need to be right next to you for his heart to stop. All it took was this.

He wasn’t sure if he was ever going to recover from the fact that he could finally do this again—sit on the bed with you, watch films together, listen to you laugh, kiss you, tell you he loved you and hear that you loved him, too. And no one could text him and wake him up from this dream.

“Come here,” you said, raising your arm over the pillows to make space for him by your side.

He was beaming. Neither Sid, nor any voice inside his head could ever taint this moment or take it away from him.

Jungkook scooted closer to you, seemingly determined to make you regret your invitation. He immediately draped a hand over your waist and a leg over yours, his body warm, his touch inescapable. You started the film on your laptop, but doubted, suddenly, if you’d be able to watch anything with him so close.

One of your hands had come to rest on the back of his head, gently teasing the strands of his hair as he lied on his side next to you, almost half of his body thrown over yours. His fingers toyed with the edges of your hoodie, and he kept humming an unrecognisable tune under his breath. You weren’t sure if he even realised it, because every time you glanced at him, especially during your favourite parts of the film, he was diligently watching the screen. The only times he looked up at you was if you stopped playing with his hair.

Then, once the film ended about an hour and a half later, Jungkook pulled back a little to be able to see you in his dark room.

If not for the tapping of his leg against yours, he would have looked like an ancient sculpture with the contours of his face illuminated by the glow of your laptop screen. It felt exceptional, somehow, to be able to witness him like this, and you came to the same realisation as you had in Stockholm while walking down empty streets at night with him, and in Amsterdam, when he lied on the hotel bed next to you. You realised how effortlessly poetic he looked. How otherworldly.

And you realised you loved him far more than words could describe.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed.

His expression darkened, but he did not move to check who’d texted. He was determined to stay in the dream he was having.

Within seconds, before either of you could say half of a word about the film you’d just watched, his phone buzzed three more times.

Finally, he exhaled. He did not need to look at his phone; you both knew it was Sid.

“I told Minjun about this earlier today,” Jungkook said, reaching over to grab the device from the other side of the bed. “He thinks I should ignore him, but I’m not sure if that’ll work. I, um—I had hoped Sid would forget about the bet and just leave me in peace, but he saw how bothered I was, and that brought him joy. He never forgets anything that brings him joy. And this is something else that—”

“Reply to him,” you said.

“I—hmm?” He blinked. “What?”

You shrugged your shoulders. He appeared even more perplexed by your apparent nonchalance.

“He’s clearly anticipating it,” you explained. “Text him that I’ve already seen those videos. Add a heart.”

Jungkook was not sure what to make of this. Last night, you had tried to stop him from doing the very thing you were now suggesting.

But then he looked down at his phone in his hands—several new notifications about video attachments from unknown numbers were on his screen—and he thought he understood what had changed. He could see how your responses to Sid had been building up to this point. The bet was just one of many instances, a small drop in an endless ocean of shit that Sid came up with and encouraged. All of it had brought you and Jungkook to this moment: with the videos on his phone looming over him.

Sid may not have been the sole cause, but he had reinforced Jungkook’s already prominent reliance on external validation and his subsequent isolation anxiety. He even played a significant role in exacerbating these issues. Jungkook was aware of it, even if he couldn’t help it. And you were aware of it, too.

While he wasn’t sure how deep inside of his mind you could see, Jungkook looked at the determination in your eyes, and he understood. You were on his side, and after everything you’d talked about tonight, you were angry.

He considered your suggestion again.

“Won’t that antagonise him further?” he asked cautiously.

“Sure it will,” you replied simply. “But what else can he do?”

“I’m not sure I want to find out.”

“Well, he wants you to react,” you said. “He’ll continue to spam you with everything he has in his gallery unless you show him that he’s got nothing to win. You said he’s taunting you, he’s threatening to show me the videos. Well, I’ve seen them. He can’t do anything about that now.”

The more Jungkook thought about this, the more his heart rate increased.

“But then,” he said because he’s known Sid for most of his life, “he’ll find a different way to get under my skin.”

You shook your head. You were convinced that the only reason why Sid got so far, why he had such a tight grip on Jungkook’s thoughts, was because Jungkook allowed it.

“He won’t have that much power,” you said, “if you won’t give it to him.”

Jungkook was still hesitant—his habit of blindly following Sid’s lead was very hard to kill—but he unlocked his phone.

“Alright,” he said. “But—okay, I guess he might not believe me if I tell him you already saw the videos. So, what if I—”

“I’ll text him.”

His stomach sank in horror.

“You—no,” he disagreed, panicking as he got up on his knees on the bed. “No, no—w-we don’t even know these numbers he’s using.”

“I don’t need them,” you said, taking out your phone. “We know it’s Sid. We’ll strip him of all his courage by exposing the anonymity he believes he has.”

Jungkook watched you in helpless awe—as though you were doing something truly impressive rather than simply sending a text message. He leaned in closer to be able to get a better view of your phone screen as you selected Sid’s contact (saved as “ASS #1” on your phone—with Jude following as “ASS #2,” of course), and typed: “I already know about the videos, thank you for thinking of me 🖤”

Then, you put your phone away and turned to Jungkook. He was still biting his lip, evidently doubting and regretting at least half of his life.

“There’s a second part, you know,” you said.

“Hm?” He glanced at the black screen of your laptop. “Of the film?”

“Mhmm. He’s escaping from LA this time. Do you want to watch it?”

Jungkook felt a little dizzy. This was over, then. You sent the text, and that was it.

He was forced to accept that even though he had cut his ties with Sid, he could still feel the phantom grips of Sid’s collar around his neck. He wasn’t sure if he would have believed in himself enough to send one text and be done with it. He needed a deeper provocation—like Sid’s descriptions of you before he punched him—or someone actively supporting him all through it—like Minjun and Taehyung, when he gave his Katana up.

And you, he thought. He was thinking of you during all those times.

“I—well, yeah,” he said finally. “Let’s watch it.”

You nodded and returned to your laptop to prepare the second film. You had your back turned to him, so he could not see the slight tremor in your hands. You did not enjoy texting Sid, but he was using you to get back at Jungkook, and you were tired of sitting down and taking it.

“Do you think,” Jungkook said, leaning back against the pillows, “I should get an anaconda tattooed on my stomach?”

Your relief was so strong that you didn’t even realise you had started to laugh. Kurt Russell’s character had a very prominent shirtless scene in the film, and you had been waiting for Jungkook to mention it.

“That was a cobra,” you said. “And no.”

“I think it—wait, why not?” He leaned forward to look at you, offence prominent on his face. “It looked cool on Snake.”

“You’re not cool enough to pull it off,” you replied. He raised his eyebrows, and you shook your head to hide your smile and to emphasise your point. “It just wouldn’t work.”

He nodded slowly, his lips twisted ironically. “Oh, I see, okay. So, what would work for me, then?”

“Maybe a cute little rabbit.”

“A rabb—oh, sure.” Crossing his arms over his chest and pouting, he looked very much like the tattoo you were imagining. “Go ahead and mock me.”

You squinted your eyes. “A rabbit with a lip ring?”

“Mhmm.” He tilted his chin up. “I will get a cobra tattoo out of spite now.”

Snickering, you hit the spacebar on your keyboard and started the film.

“Let’s watch the second part before you decide rabbit or cobra,” you said.

“I’ve already deci—”

Your phone vibrated on the bed, cutting him off. A familiar anxious shiver ran down your spine.

You glanced at him, and just as before, the two of you quickly came to the same conclusion, and the radiant smiles on your faces suddenly clouded again.

Breathing a little heavier, you paused the film after less than a minute and picked up your phone.

There was a new text message from Sid. He had sent you a link to what appeared to be an Instagram post. His message underneath it read, “Okay :) and do you know about this? x”

You had a feeling what was coming even before you clicked the link; your subconsciousness had made the connection before it should have realistically been possible.

The link directed you to Sid’s profile and the picture he’d posted four minutes ago: it was the black-and-white bathtub shot that Maggie had shown you at the bar last night. Sid had captioned it, “so happy for you!”

Jungkook cursed softly on the bed behind you.

You were not sure if you were breathing.

“Fuck,” Jungkook said again. “He—he must have got it from my phone. Maggie—she sent me the picture, and Sid—”

“This piece of fucking shit,” you swore. Your hold on your phone remained firm, despite the device shaking in your frustrated hands. “He’s definitely not just taunting you, he’s targeting us both.”

The Rated Riot fans knew who Sid was, they saw the picture. Jungkook glanced at your screen once more as you clicked on the likes. They were pouring in too quickly, and the total number—which Sid had not made private, of course—could not refresh in time.

Neither you, nor Jungkook said anything. Neither of you drew any obvious conclusions. Simply watching as the image spread online was already enough.

People said a picture was worth a thousand words, and you wondered about the value of this particular one.

You hadn’t even talked to the label; you’d barely talked to each other about your relationship. How would this look for you? What would you do?

“This is what he wants, then?” you asked, staring at your phone. The usernames on the screen blurred together. “For us to break up? He’s that miserable?”

Jungkook felt a knot straining in his stomach, and he could not respond.

“And why do it like this?” you questioned further. “What the fuck is wrong with him, aside from the obvious? What does he gain from any of this?”

Jungkook thought he knew what it was. He could feel it that night when he handed Sid the keys to the Katana. But he hoped—he really fucking hoped—that Sid would get over it. He got his way, after all.

“He won the bet,” Jungkook said, “but I did not lose anything. He can’t stand the thought that I’m—h-he needs me to know that I’m not better than him.”

You groaned. “Fuck—fuck him. Fuck his immature shit, and his fucking ego. Whatever it is that he wants, he’s not going to get it. He’s already done enough.”

You got up from the bed, and Jungkook watched you move around his room with a quiet purpose that he could not decipher.

“What…” he cleared his throat, “do you mean?”

“I don’t know yet,” you said, and your pacing increased. “But we’ll figure it out. He’s not getting his fucking way.”

Jungkook felt a little foolish as he asked, “you’re not mad?”

You stopped in the middle of the room and looked at the uncertain arch of his brows, the slight pull of his lips. You wondered if you would have had it in you not to strangle Sid if he was in the room with you right now. Really, Jungkook wouldn’t even have to do anything. Maybe dig a hole later.

“At you?” you asked, returning to the bed. “Why would I be mad at you? I—I’m angry in general. But I think Sid would have found some kind of a picture of us and posted it anyway. At least we managed to get on his nerves a little first.”

You sat down beside him, and he ran his fingers through his hair, half-nodding, half-shaking his head.

“Yeah. Yeah, okay,” he decided. “We might have, uh, actually pushed him into doing this without thinking it through. He didn’t even tag us in the picture, right? And I mean, I know it’s us, but we’re completely in the dark, and—”

He stopped talking when you abruptly jumped up, scrambling to unlock your phone again.

“W-what is it?” he asked, alarmed once more.

You returned to Sid’s profile, clicked on the picture, and refreshed the post.

He hadn’t tagged you.

Jungkook was easily recognisable in the picture if you expected to see him there. However, it was likely that besides Maggie and Luna—who already knew it was you because Maggie had said so—no one else could identify the other person in the bathtub.

“Shit, you’re right,” you said, your heart speeding in your chest. “He didn’t tag us. If I hadn’t texted him, he might have posted the picture later, after thinking it through better, and—but he hadn’t. Fuck, this is—we can fix this. I—oh, we will fix this, and I’ll fucking make sure this is the last game he plays with us.”

Right away, just from the tone of your voice alone, Jungkook knew that Sid had lost. He’d lost and he didn’t even know it yet.

You hadn’t broken up. You were together—seemingly even more together now than you were hours ago, when you’d first entered his room.

Finally, Jungkook exhaled in staggering relief.

The two of you had already won.

chapter title credits: normandie, “blood in the water”

prev ○ next

379 notes · View notes

blingblong55 · 5 months

Text

Matilda- Simon 'Ghost' Riley

Photo creds:@ave661^

Based on a request:

Ghost finding out his s/o has a bad family, who she doesn’t keep in contact with but talks shit about and is like. Pretty open about how fucking awful her past was? if it’s too much I get it but like- I used to love your angst posts :3 they were so yummy! --- F!Reader, 18+, angst, comfort, family issues/trauma, mentions of SA/rape, mentions of eating disorders, toxic!family, mentions of child abuse, so...trigger warning!! ---

A/N: this is me trauma dumping so I'm sorry if it isn't perfect

Simon knew, he knew well that you weren't so open to starting a family with him for reasons he knew best to respect. But, one day, without him even realising he asked the question, you sat down and told him the story your teary eyes held for so long. As he listened to you explain the stories, he noticed how he wasn't speaking to his wife but to the little girl, his wife once was. The one who was left in a cruel world to people who shouldn't have had kids. "So, they...abused you?" He carefully asked and when he noticed you pause, he knew the answer you didn't. "I...I don't think so," your soft words spoke.

Nothing about the way you were treated seemed especially alarming 'til now

"What I know is that they were mean, evil to me. I was a kid...how was I to know right from wrong so easily?" You held his hand, support you failed to have as a child. Then, you told him the story of a young R/N. "I don't remember the exact age, but I could've been 5 through 8. I was there, he took me to his room, I thought we were going to play and he said we would so would I have known, you know?" Your innocent voice spoke the fear he held. "I don't remember much of that day but in glimpses, if I look too deep, I can see his hands between my thighs, and how he...well...you know," you couldn't explain, it was like a knot in your throat prevented to cause your heart more harm. "And you didn't tell your parents?" His voice is soft. You shake your head, "No, I...as a kid, they never believed what I said," you chuckle out of coping with it all.

"There was one time when my older sister tried to suffocate me, I didn't do anything to deserve it, all I did was watch cartoons and she annoyed me but I knew best and didn't feed into what she wanted from me." You pause and wipe some tears away. Your gaze never fell on his, afraid to break down too easily if you stared at the man who became home to you so long ago. He was that, he was comfort and home and you knew that if you stole one glance, you would be sobbing the stories. Your hand held his tighter, he knew well it was for comfort. "She pressed the pillow tight on my head, I was sick and my stupid lungs couldn't take the fact I had pneumonia, so of course killing me would be easier," you chuckle again. His gaze never left your delicate face and even he had to admit he cried as you told him these stories.

After a long sigh and pause you continue, "I somehow pushed her off me and ran to my parent's room, knocked loud and when my dad opened the door I swore I finally felt safe until I didn't," You know he was ready to ask why but you just laid your head on his shoulder. Looking off into the distance you continued, "My sister told them I pushed her, told her that I hated her, which is not true because hate is strong and she is my sister," you shake your head. "I cried when they didn't believe me, and had a panic attack in their room. and when I backed into a corner as my mother and father yelled at me...that's when they took my sister to the hallway and my mother stayed with me, she tried to hug me but I didn't need none of that...not from her." His hand rubbed your arm, knowing what you needed from him. You wipe some tears away, your breathing hitches and he wraps both arms around you. "I didn't hurt her Simon, I swear I didn't but no one believes me, no one," you whisper the last part. "I know you didn't, my love," he kisses your head and continues to rub your arm.

"I believe you, I'll always believe you before anyone else," he reminds you. "I...my mother gave me water and sent me to my room, told me to just sleep it off," you stop and cry. "Oh my love," he whispers and carries you onto his lap. The pouty frown broke his heart more and more. The cosy home he and you made for the years of your life, warming up his belief that slowly, he will replace all those bad years. The fireplace radiates heat on the snowy winter day. "In this world, I'll always believe you, no matter what, okay, my love?" He looks down and you nod. "That's my girl," he says and places a blanket over you both. "Do you want to continue, my love?" He asks, rubbing your back with his warm touch.

"I do," your voice is small. It was best to open about this and then burn it and let the ashes fly away than to keep it locked in for eyes to see. "I...as I grew up, I knew I had no place in that house. My mother shamed me for my body, and so did everyone in my family." Your head nuzzling onto his chest like a cat finding comfort. "So, I starved myself to be the perfect daughter. I did try to be perfect, I tried to get an I love you, a simple smile or hug." He nods, understanding where you came from. "One time, my mother grabbed my stomach, she told me I was fat and looking back at how I was at that age, I...I was healthy, nothing was ever wrong with me, nothing," you repeat in a whisper.

After a long time of comfortable silence, you speak again. "As I grew older, they made me feel terrible about all of me, how I dressed, if I did my makeup, my hair, my body, the stretch marks that decorated my body, all of it and even I wasn't allowed to have one bad day, not one." He shook his head and in that instant, he understood why all those years of loving you, you always avoided starting a family conversation. You were afraid to be like them, to persist in a cycle of never-ending trauma. He knew you loved him, he knew how much you yearned to be a mum, to watch him and you become parents and do foolish things for and with your child.

"I never understood why I was so insecure over my thighs or why I hated when people touched them, but as I grew older and noticed that I was...you know... I..um.." You could never be admitted, never say you were raped as a child, not when you were scared to acknowledge it again. "I know love," he responds so you don't torture your heart anymore. "But...when I realised what happened to me, that's when it all hit me and there was a time in my young life that I knew I would never forget," you kept holding onto his torso. "It hadn't been long after what that...person...did to me when my mum and sisters pinned me to the ground, they knew then that I disliked people touching my thighs so they pinned me to the ground and touched them," you shake your head, trying to forget the moment. "They...th-they touched my body as I cried and begged for them to stop and not once did anyone stop or help me. My father walked by and he...he just laughed and kept walking...how...how can you do that?" You cried. "How can a parent do that? I was a kid, Simon...a child," you broke down.

"And don't get me started on why I felt like Christmas was just not a happy holiday anymore." Your mind went to a past Christmas, your family yelling, your father accused of his cheating, never denying, just lying and yelling at your mother. You hid in a closet, grabbed headphones and played music loudly. Hours passed and your mother saw fear within her eyes as she cried to you, why can he love me? she asked as she cried, you played strong. Your father drove away, leaving his family scared and cornered in a bathroom, crying as they listened to stories.

"My dad used to hit me, well, my entire family really," you confessed. His eyes widened, he knew they were bad, but not this bad. "My dad had a belt he used to hit me with, my mother and sisters used to watch. One time, they added more fuel to the fire as they told him more lies to get me into more trouble, part of me thinks they loved to watch me cry and get hit." You so innocently say, "When I was a kid and even as I grew older, my mum and dad would hit me and tell me they did it because they loved me." He shook his head, "Never...never in your life do you dare think that way. If I even dare to lift my hand at you, you leave me, my love. Because no matter how much you or I love the other, abuse doesn't equal love," he cups your face. You nod.

You learned one thing from Simon as he listened, that he was calm after the bad storm. He had his troubles, yes, but never would he be like them. He and you healed the other after all those years of a bad life you lived. You and him, sunshine to the other even in the darkest of the night. He has become light and a new beginning. Family. And as you admire the soul who can tell which smiles you are faking, you know that the little girl in you is finally safe. She has packed her dolls and sweater, moved to the countryside, grew up and fell in love with a man. A man who is home, a man who became the grown-up little R/N runs to when scared. For he is home, he is light and he is love. He is your man, your safe place and the one you find comfort in.

I don't believe that time will change your mind In other words I know they won't hurt you anymore as long as you can let them go

"No more," he told you, you looked up at him in confusion. "No more?" you asked and he shook his head. "From this day on, you are not their blood, you are a Riley, you are R/N Riley and never will you be associated with them." He cupped your face. His tone was stern as he tried to make you listen to him. "They are not family, my love. They are strangers you lived with. And me...I am your family, we don't need another shit Christmas, we can...hm...we can have dinner here, or maybe get takeout and watch your favourite movies all day and night. Hey, who knows, maybe that Santa Clause man will come in the night as we sleep and hopefully you've been nice my love because I want him to bring you some good gifts," he chuckles as he cups your delicate face. You laugh a little, "Hey, look who's back, that cute laugh of yours my love," he kisses your lips and pulls you to him, closer than you already were.

You can start a family who will always show you love You don't have to be sorry for doing it on your own

In this lifetime, you will learn many things and you will meet many people. Most of which will come and go. Those who stay, you may ask? Well, they become a family, maybe not a biological one but it's not blood that relates two strangers. It's memories, it's understanding, growing, living and loving. Family is him, family is the old lady or that professor you bonded with. Family is people who make you feel safe and at home. For if you are lucky, in this life you will find your Simon Riley. The person who wraps you in a warm blanket and loves you a little more when you hate the reflection in the mirror. And if you get even luckier, you will find that not only will it be Simon Riley who heals your old wounds and covers them in kisses and caresses. You will find yourself, maybe in ten years, getting covered in glitter, mud, and stickers and having the walls of your home drawn on by Simon's child. The love child that was created on a warm Christmas morning. The same one that wakes you up at six in the morning to go and see what the big red man brought them for Christmas.

And if you are lucky enough, you will find peace. The same one you looked for since age 5, the same one you cried for throughout the years. Maybe it won't come this year, but if you are patient enough, you will find it and when you do, appreciate it because you cried for it many moons ago.

You don't have to be sorry, no

A/N: the tears I shed as I wrote this made a river. Anyway, thank you for letting me dump years of trauma with this one, love you all <3

Tags:

@ghostslillady @liyanahelena @sans-chara @siwwayouu @allaboutirem0 @just3rowsing @mothcelestial @blankk3

458 notes · View notes

lovemly4 · 2 months

Note

Hey hope you have an amazing day! I realised that there's not much logan sargeant request here on tumblr and was wondering if I could request one? Just a very clingy reader and how she always reacts when he comes back to their home ❤️ fluff pls!

Hi darling!! I had an amazing day, what about you? You’re so right, Logan deserves more attention! I specifically wrote about him coming back home after a long time, and how much reader is excited to see him. Hope that’ll do!!

Back to You - Logan Sargeant

Word count: 970 ; Genre: fluff ; Pairing: Boyfriend!Logan x reader ; Warnings: none

It had been three weeks since the last time you saw Logan. Your job didn’t really let you had time to accompany him to the races, nor see him very often, and that caused your mood to drop inevitably.

Furthermore, your love language had always been quality time and physical touch, so being apart only fed your desperation to spend time together. You two video called each other every night, sharing news and tidbits, but no.

It wasn’t enough. You were feeling empty anyway.

‘Just two more days’ you thought to yourself, trying to soothe the painful sadness of his absence engaging in house chores or working compulsively ‘til late hours.

Little did you know, he was in the exactly same state as you. Being this far from you pained him, destroyed by the want to fill every single fiber of his body with your laugh and your melodious voice again.

‘Just two more days‘ he thought, trying to distract himself spending time with his team or walking in the city he was in. And everywhere he went he promised himself to return there with you, and show you all the places that took his breath way.

Two days passed, and you got to the airport three hours earlier.

You didn’t even realize it until you got there, and laughed at the sight of your screen displaying the early morning time.

You waited patiently, minutes feeling like hours, hours feeling like days, looking at people dragging their suitcases and the tired face of a mother holding her crying child.

Until you got the text that he finally landed.

You placed yourself in front of the exit, your eyes frantically sorting out each face, but none of them had his ice blue eyes that you loved so much.

You felt a pair of strong arms hugging you from behind and turning you around, his tall figure towering over yours for the first time in what felt like forever.

Your excited squeaks were muffled against his shoulder as his wide hands held your waist, allowing him to hide his face in the crook of your neck, your scent finally overwhelming him again.

When he crossed the doorway of your shared home he exhaled in relief.

Despite loving every single part of his job, coming back to you was his favorite part.

He left his luggage next to the door, completely ignoring it as he plopped down onto the soft fabric of your couch, your body following him shortly after.

You crawled onto his lap dying to sense his warmth under your skin, hands softly brushing over his short hair as he told you the most interesting parts of his trip and how the race went.

“I watched it, you know?” you told him softly and his eyes lit up, his reaction as something so obvious confusing you “if I can’t be with you, i should at least support you from home” you said with a pouty face.

He laughed out loud, your hands feeling his toned chest trembling with it as he took your hands in his, bringing them to his lips to place a devoted kiss to the back of your palms.

The sun set behind the horizon leaving the living room in a dark golden color, the long gone shadows replaced by the dim glow of the TV screen.

Logan passed out in the middle of the film the two of you were watching, right now being nothing more than a distant murmur.

His head was lying on your lap, soft exhales coming out of his mouth as your hand traced imaginary patterns along his exposed skin.

Looking down at him with a loving expression, you placed your other hand in his free one, lightly squeezing not to wake him up but just enough to make sure that he was actually real, and there with you.

But he was not completely asleep, and he felt his heart fluttered with adoration; despite his exhaustion, he refused to waste his time sleeping. He rathers being half-asleep, listening to your sounds in the peace of the night: your rhythmic heartbeat under your shirt, your breathy laugh as a funny scene plays on the screen, the sound that your feet make as you habitually tap them on the carpet.

The morning after, you woke up to the sound of pans slamming to the ground.

Logan was trying to make pancakes on his own, not succeeding much since there was flour on his nose, egg on the counter and sugar on the floor.

You hugged him good morning, examining his skills from behind.

“Here love, let me help you- you gently took the wooden spoon out of his hands, trying to mix what looked like a light yellow blob- scoop it with this motion” he copied your movements, joyfully smiling when the batter started to look edible.

He smacked a loud kiss to your cheek, transferring some of the flour to your skin.

“You know how to cook them, right?” you asked, cocking an eyebrow, “I know how to cook them… Of course” he huffed, heating the pan.

You placed the dishes on the kitchen island, as Logan transferred the food onto the ceramic plates.

You both tasted the first bite, not sure of what expression to assume not to show the actual impression.

“This is…” you start, Logan interrupting you

“Disgusting, it tastes like a sponge. It feels like a sponge. Please, don’t let me go near the stove ever again. Got it?” he asked, a disgusted expression on his face accentuating the little wrinkles under his eyes.

You bursted out laughing, his arms engaging you in a warm bear hug.

He looked down at you through his light eyelashes, his nose grazing over yours.

“Feels so good to be back to you”

338 notes · View notes

castiwls · 19 days

Text

champagne problems - d.w

Paring; dean x reader

Prompt; 'Sometimes you just don't know the answer 'Til someone's on their knees and asks you."She would've made such a lovely bride. What a shame she's fucked in the head," they said'

Requested; @arcticwisteria

Notes; No the first time i heard this song I IMMEDIATELY thought of dean :( Also this is quite sad oop but I kinda flipped the prompt so its not the woman saying no but instead its the man it just fitted better in my head. requests are open!

Masterlist | Taylor Swift masterlist

The tension in the room was thick. The clock ticking seemed to echo throughout the room getting louder and louder with each passing minute as you both sat in silence. For the first time in your relationship, you had no idea what to say or do. You felt helpless as you sat at the kitchen table, your hands clenching and unclenching rhythmically. “So,” You lay your hands flat on the table looking up at the man sitting opposite you. “This is it? Three years down the drain.” You nodded. You couldn’t help the bitterness that seemed to lace into your tone as you spoke.

The realistic part of your brain knew that it wasn’t his fault. It wasn’t Dean’s fault that his childhood had messed him up so much that now as an adult he struggled with any relationship. You’d know what you were getting into when you’d first began this relationship. You’d known the baggage that came with loving Dean Winchester yet you’d pushed it away because you were so utterly in love with him.

Yet in this moment, you were wondering if you’d possibly made a mistake. If maybe you’d been so blinded with love that you’d overlooked one too many things.

“Are you gonna say anything?” You flatted your hands on the table looking up at him. Dean’s gaze was locked on the wall behind you. “Dean! Say something…please.” Your voice broke off slightly at the last word. Dean’s eyes finally moved to yours and for the first time, you noticed the way his eyes seemed to glisten slightly.

“I can’t marry you. I…I can’t” He sucked his bottom lip between his teeth before letting out an airy laugh. “I thought I could. I’ve thought about it for so long but…”

“But you can’t actually do it.” Your hands played with the small red box in your hands. You’d found it on accident a month ago. He’d hidden it in baby’s glove box and that’s where it had lay, slowly collecting dust for the past few months. “You bought the ring, but you can’t actually ask me.” You stared incredulously at him.

Placing the box beside you, you reached out to grasp one of his hands. “What if I asked you?”

Dean stared at you for a moment. His expression unreadable. “No. He spoke quietly his gaze locked on your hands. “What?” You felt your eyes widen slightly at his bluntness. Dean took a breath before his eyes moved from your hands to your face. He placed his hand over you. “No. I can’t marry you. I thought…I thought the answer was a yes. Sweetheart believe me I did.” He softened his gaze as he watched your eyes slowly begin to fill with tears of their own.

“So what changed.” Your voice wavered slightly as you spoke. You wanted nothing more at this moment than to kick and scream to your heart’s content. “I realised I am far from husband material. That’s what.” A frown pulled at his lips.

“How do you know that? You are a perfectly good boyfriend. If you weren’t I wouldn’t be sat here right now.” You swallowed trying to hold the tears which threatened to spill back. Dean let out a breath before slowly letting go of your hands. “Because I know I’m messed up alright. And I refuse to burden you with that. Being your boyfriend means you can walk away, I can let you go.” Dean rubbed a palm across his eyes, wiping away the tears which were slowly beginning to fall. “If we get married i can’t let you go.” He finished, his voice dropping to merely a whisper.

You sucked in a breath, feeling the damn behind your eyes slowly begin to break. “Letting me go?” You shook your head. “No. No, I am not walking away from you Dean. I’m not walking away from us.” You said firmly feeling your face dampen with your tears.

You watched with bated breath as the man opposite you slowly rose from his seat and moved beside you. “Your gonna find someone else. Someone else who's gonna love you and who’s gonna get down on one knee and make you so happy.” He placed a hand on your cheek. “You're gonna get that apple pie life I know you’ve always wanted. But I can’t be the one to give you that.”

His thumb slowly stroked your cheek as his eyes slowly travelled across your face almost as if he was mapping it out. “I’m sorry.” He whispered before leaning forward to press his lips to yours.

Your hand gripped the front of his shirt, pulling him impossibly closer. After a moment he pulled back. “I love you.” Dean smiled at you, tears slowly falling from his eyes as he stood from his seat.

It killed him inside to walk away but he knew he had to. He could never be what you needed and with him in your life, you would never find what you needed.

#supernatural #spn #dean winchester #dean winchester x reader #dean winchester x you #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fanfiction #spn fanfic #spn imagine #spn x reader #supernatural x reader #supernatural imagine #sam winchester imagine #sam winchester x reader #sam winchester #jensen ackles #.mine #.spn #.deanwinchester

203 notes · View notes

sc0tters · 7 months

Text

In The Break | Mat Barzal

summary: the Barzal house is at its breaking point without their key member their to save the day.

request: yes/no

warnings: swearing, grammar that I think a four year old would use.

word count: 2.09k

authors note: this is officially probably one of my favourite (soft) things that I’ve written. Like I can’t get over how cute everyone is. But like weirdly enough I can’t tell if I acc like this so I’m just going to how that it had the luna stamp of approval.

You didn’t think would had ever been more excited to have Mat back home as you were in that moment.

Tilly had been teething and James wanted his father at every waking moment.

Your energy was practically nonexistent as your one year old wasn’t sleeping through the night and that meant that you weren’t either.

It seemed that all three of you were at your wits end and as both kids were sat in the playroom with Tilly sporting her red swollen cheeks. James had gone on about how he couldn’t wait to see his father you knew you were being stupid but it hurt you hearing his praise as he had done nothing but spew the negative words that were in your four year olds Arsenal.

You tried to brush his hair wanting to get him ready for the day “I’m home!” Mat called out as he opened the front door making both kids turn their heads in the direction of him.

Before you knew it you were shoved to the ground as they both seemed to finally behave as they stopped their negative moods “hi baby!” Mat cooed as he crouched down and wrapped his arms around the boy.

Tilly waddled after her brother causing her father to gasp at her improved abilities at walking “where is mama?” The hockey player’s eyes lit up as he saw you tuck your hair behind your ears.

A smile formed on Mat’s lips as he so effortlessly held the children to his sides “hi pretty lady.” It seemed that he didn’t take note of the dark circles that lay under your eyes “was thinking we could go get ice cream with them?” His words cause the kids to cheer as Mat kissed your lips.

That was honestly the last thing you needed to hear. Both kids had won the battle of avoiding nap time until their father got home “Til hasn’t had her nap yet.” You pointed out with a sigh.

You weren’t expecting any shut eye during this time as Mat had been gone for two weeks and you did miss your husband. But you knew that if both kids didn’t try for their naps you would be the one to truly pay the price later on “they won’t be that bad.” As all three sent you a smile you couldn’t help but sigh as you nodded conceding defeat.

It was almost like you could have been a fortune teller. Tilly had cried herself to sleep as she was so grumpy without her teddy that not even Mat’s arms could put her mind at ease.

And your sweet little James had been sat on his fathers lap with every chance he could get.

So now you were not only sleep deprived but you were also feeling neglected.

Mat loved seeing how his kids looked up at him but as he held James in his arms and had Tilly in the carrier as you walked ahead of them to the front door.

Getting Tilly to sleep was easy as you simply placed her in her cot where Mat offered to take over in changing her into her pyjamas. James on the other hand began to have a fit as he realised that his father was nowhere in sight as you sat down on his bed with a book “daddy daddy daddy!” He complained kicking his legs “J daddy is with Tilly right now.” You sighed opening the book.

Yet that seemed to aggravate your son further “I want daddy not you.” Again you knew that James didn’t know the gravity of his words but in that moment you wanted to just break down.

You tried to ignore him as you began reading “I hate you momma where’s daddy!” Having children was another moment of learning how to bite your tongue and you had been doing so much better “you think I want to be here either!” You yelled back finally letting your anger go “I’m tired and for the last two weeks you have treated me like I’m not here!” As James flinched your eyes went wide.

Not once in the four years of being his mom had you ever raised your voice “J I’m-” before you could reach out to apologise Mat walked in “daddy!” James cheered.

Mat sent you a look of concern as you got up “think he wants you to read this.” You mumbled shoving the book into his hands as you let the door shut behind you “momma always said this was a book huh?” Mat smiled as he nestled into the mattress as James rested against him.

Guilt drowned you as you sat with your hands around your knees letting the warm water from the shower land on your back before the droplets slowly dripped down your skin. Tears painted your cheeks as you so badly just wanted to wake up and see that this was all just some bad dream “baby?” Mat called out as he walked into the bedroom.

It didn’t take him long to realise that you were in the shower “shit y/n!” Your husband didn’t care that he walked into the shower with all of his clothes still on.

In one quick movement Mat helped you up before he pulled you into a hug “Mat!” You cried as the hockey player reached behind you to turn the shower off.

Your tears soaked his shirt as you realised all the things you are frustrated about, not being able to make Tilly feel better as she teethed, James deciding that he hated you and how you let it get to you. But most of all how Mat came in and ruined the schedule you set with the kids.

Usually you wouldn’t have cared if they missed a day but you were tired and felt unloved and for that you let it irritate you today.

So you pushed Mat away as he handed you a towel “baby?” He was surprised to see the glare you sent him as you wiped your eyes.

Mat stood there with wide eyes “you went against me today.” The only rule you had about being parents was that you two had to remain united and that’s kind of hard when he ignores your scheduling.

He remained silent as you continued “how am I meant to keep it together here when you come in and play god or some shit becoming their favourites all over again.” You knew you were being stupid but it made you want to cry as you thought about it when your throat grew tight.

The hockey player scoffed “sorry that when I don’t see the kids for two weeks I want to go do something fun with them!” He felt like your statement was beyond aggressive as it quickly turned into a screaming match “Mat I told you that they needed to sleep and you still went with what you wanted!” Before he could even think about his rebuttal the baby monitor went off.

Tilly’s cries pulled your attention away from your husband “I would go but I’d hate to fuck with her sleep schedule.” Mat’s words had you rolling your eyes as you wrapped the towel around your body “fuck off Mat.” You spat shaking your head as you walked out of your room and down the hall to hers.

Her eyes grew full as she turned her head to see you “hi my love.” You cooed picking her small body up letting her head rest against your shoulder.

Usually you weren’t one for picking her up and rather just showing her that you were there but tonight you needed a hug from someone who seemed happy to see you.

So you two stood like that for fifteen minutes as your gentle swaying of your body caused her to finally settle “good night my girl.” You placed her back into her crib before you brought your fingers to your lip kissing them before you let them press softly on her forehead.

The darkness of the hallway back to your room reminded you of the state that of chaos that you had left Mat in.

You nervously chewed at the inside of your cheek before you took a final deep breath and pushed the door open.

Mat seemed like a shell of himself as he had the baby cam in his hand as he replayed the footage of you humming some random rhyme as Tilly fell asleep “I never know how you do that with her.” Mat blurted out as you were always the one to save them when the kids woke up in the night.

It was a taken that Mat could never even fathom as he tried everything but most of the time their own tiredness would come back and bring them into a deep sleep.

Wanting to discard the towel you found one of Mats shirts that you had folded that morning so you put that on instead of your own clothes. You remained quiet as you brought the towel to the bathroom unaware of how Mat followed you “I don’t mean to always play good cop with them it’s just that I’m not always around in the season and-” Mat rambled on as he ran his fingers through his hair.

Now your guilt about lashing out at him came out “it’s fine babe.” You shook off his thoughts as you turned to face him “no it’s not.” It was clear that the hockey player wanted you and the kids around more than he got to see you “you’re their great mom and an even greater wife to me.” His hands wrapped around your neck as you hugged him.

Somehow that contact felt different to the one from thirty minutes ago. This time it was with love and care as he watched you smile when his lips pressed against your head “you deserve to be treated better than you are.” Mat had tried coming up with the lecture for James but he didn’t know how to do it without getting angry at his son.

Sure two years ago James was a total momma’s boy who refused to be with anyone who wasn’t you but Mat knew that if James spoke to him the way he had spoken to you, Mat would have lost it.

Maybe it sounded stupid but you had both gone through your insecure moments with the kids and you were now realising that “can we go to bed then?” You yawned finally wanting that sleep that you had waited so long for.

Mat laughed as he nodded “let’s go.” He watched as you pulled him out of the room back into your bedroom where your bed was a sight for sore eyes.

The next morning you woke up to the sound of giggles and Bluey blaring through the speakers of the tv downstairs. Mat wasn’t next to you so he had obviously woken up to spend time with the kids.

You yawned stretching out as you smiled to yourself letting your back comfortably rest on the mattress “momma?” A soft voice came from the door causing you to look up.

James stood there with his plushie that Tito had brought him back from Vancouver over the summer “hi J,” before you could say anything more your eldest was running into your room as he jumped onto your bed and quickly into your arms.

The sight warmed your heart “what is it my baby?” You cooed running your fingers through his hair “I love you,” James looked up at you with tears in his eyes causing you to frown.

Your finger wiped at his cheek “I love you so much love why are you crying?” You didn’t mean for your words to come out confused as you tried to soothe the boy.

James fiddled with your bracelet, a habit he picked up watching you do it when you were nervous “sorry I yell at you in room.” Your mom had told you that you were going to have moments where you knew you were a good parent and this felt like it was that.

You gave the boy a squeeze as you kissed the top of his head “I’m sorry too.” You mumbled with both you turning to the door as you heard someone walk up the stairs “you two got room for two more?” Mat asked as he pressed a kiss to Tilly’s cheek drawing a giggle from her lips.

The sight gave you so much joy as your heart felt full “always.”

#Mat Barzal imagines #Mat Barzal x reader #mat barzal oneshot #hockey imagines #hockey imagine #nhl oneshot #nhl imagine #hockey oneshot #imagines #oneshots #amber writes fics

666 notes · View notes

jaywonjuice · 7 months

Note

hiii! i saw your requests were open! i was wondering if you could write a jake drabble/scenario where the reader and him get into an argument and instead of making him sleep on the couch, the reader voluntarily does so instead and the aftermath (apologies) afterwards? hopefully that makes sense ☺️ thank you so much in advance and i’m looking forward to it!!

~ 🩵

aaa my first ever request !! :3 tysm for this, i thought it was a rly sweet idea and i rly rly hope you like how the piece turned out !<3

timeless. ~ s.jy

pairing bf!jake x gn reader

genre angst, fluff, oneshot

warnings verbal fight, physical contact, kissing, mention of drowning

wc 1.27k

[00:00] you watched as the alarm clock on your nightstand ticked over midnight and beeped into the darkness. you hugged your knees to your chest, feeling as if you were glued to this spot, huddled up in the middle of the bed. a lump began to form in your throat.

he forgot.

you and jake had been dating for a year now, and to be truthful, it was the happiest you had been in a long time. through all the low points he’d been there, from staying up to cuddle with you on the sofa after the long hard days at your stressful job, to wiping away your tears with his gentle touch, refusing to leave your side until he saw you smile again. you honestly had to pinch yourself sometimes to check you weren’t dreaming, that he was really yours - your gorgeous, sweet, golden retriever boyfriend.

but he forgot. he’d forgotten your one-year anniversary. and you knew that it shouldn’t matter to you so much but it did. you’d waited hopefully all day for him to text or call, and when your phone finally buzzed you’d rushed to read the message excitedly.

jake🩶

should still make tn but schedule’s running late, prob won’t get there til like half 12 xxxxxxx

your heart had sunk. you’d really thought he might have something special planned in secret, a surprise date at a fancy restaurant maybe, so you hadn’t brought it up just in case. but now you felt like a fool, hopes crushed. he clearly wasn’t thinking about you. maybe he just didn’t love you anymore.

your spiralling thoughts were cut off abruptly by the sound of the apartment door opening and then latching shut softly. shortly afterwards a shadowy shape appeared standing in the doorway of the bedroom.

‘hey baby,’ said jake with a broad smile. entering the room he flicked the lights on, casually running his fingers through his hair and letting out a contented sigh, as if he hadn’t just crushed your heart. ‘i thought you might’ve been asleep. why are you just sitting here in the dark?’

his smile faltered as he took in your expression. you were staring at him dully with tired eyes. he thought you looked smaller than usual, sat hunched there, blanket wrapped around your shoulders in the middle of the bed. concern flickered across his features. ‘baby, has something happened?’

you scoffed, turning away from him. ‘“has something happened?” no, actually, as a matter of fact absolutely nothing happened all day.’

he regarded you, puzzled. ‘baby i don’t understand,’

‘today was our anniversary, jake,’ you answered him cooly. ‘we’ve been together for an entire year and you didn’t even remember.’

you watched as the realisation crept over his face.

‘oh gosh, yeah, it totally slipped my mind!’ he furrowed his brow, thinking. ‘let’s go to the movies tomorrow, hmm? a proper date, to celebrate,’ he offered with a smile.

‘no,’ you shot back without a moment’s pause. ‘it’s not the same. we can’t just do it tomorrow. it won’t be special, we’ve missed our chance.’

‘what do you mean it won’t be special?’ he scratched his head, clearly growing frustrated with the conversation. ‘we’d be doing the exact same thing just on a different day, it doesn’t make any difference.’

‘jake, this was important to me!’ you were shouting now, unable to remain calm with how easily he seemed to dismiss your feelings.

‘hey don’t yell at me!’ he put his hands up. ‘we can just go tomorrow can’t we?! seriously what is the issue here, all i want is to just be with you-’

‘well i don’t want to be with you!’ you spat.

his jaw worked. something about his gaze shifted, and his eyes hardened. you knew then that you’d hurt him.

‘just forget it,’ you huffed, pushing yourself up off the bed and making to storm out of room. jake stuck his arm out to block the door. ‘look, if you’d just listen-’

‘forget it, i said,’ you repeated yourself, pushing his arm out of the way before adding, ‘you’re good at that.’ with that you left the room, your blanket trailing behind you.

.❦.

[11:44] when you awoke on the sofa the following morning, it was to a sore back and a throbbing head. it had taken you hours to fall asleep and you felt anything but rested. your cheeks felt tight with the stains of dried tears, and as you sat up straight the events of the previous evening flooded your mind.

jake. as you remembered the wounded look on his face at your hurtful words, your heart ached, adding to your long list of pains. ‘such an idiot,’ you groaned, head in your hands.

berating yourself did little to relieve your discomfort however, so you dragged yourself up off the sofa and made your way blearily to the kitchen.

as you reached for the medicine cabinet, something stuck to the fridge caught your eye. a little envelope was tucked under one of your little puppy fridge magnets. removing it carefully, you turned it over in your hands to find your name scrawled on the back.

you opened it up and read:

morning angel,

you know i’m not good with words, but i need you to know how much i love you, and how sorry i am that i hurt you.

i should never have said the things i said. i know now how important this was for you and i should’ve been more understanding from the start.

it’s not that i don’t care, honestly it’s quite the opposite. i just want to celebrate every day that i get to spend loving you. you see, i think we’re timeless baby, no matter how long i’m with you i’m always going to be crazily in love with you, until we’re old and grey. no matter when someone asks me, now or fifty years from now, i’m gonna be telling them that you’re my baby, forever and always.

yours,

jake

p.s. i’m really sorry this is all in writing and not in person, but i had things scheduled all morning that i couldn’t get out of :( i promise i’m gonna make it up to you

p.p.s. i’m also sorry for my atrocious handwriting (you’re right, it does kinda look like a drunk spider slipped in ink and danced across the page)

the sheet of paper trembled in your hands.

‘y/n?’

you looked up with a jolt to see jake stood watching you by the door, his face fraught with concern. your eyes filled with tears as they met his, and he dropped his bags to the floor and rushed over to you. he pulled you into his arms, wrapping them tightly around you.

‘jake,’ you were sobbing into his chest now. ‘jake i’m so sorry. i’m so so sorry.’

‘shhh, i know baby, i know,’ he stroked the back of your head gently. ‘i’m sorry too.’

still a sniffling mess, you continued ‘i do want to be with you, i want to be with you forever and.. i want to be timeless with you.’

you tilted your head up to face him, eyes shining. ‘please,’

he held your face in his hands as he leant in to kiss you, his thumb brushing against your cheek gently. the way he kissed you made you feel like you were both alive and burning all at once, like he was a breath of fresh air, like you were drowning. when he finally pulled away, he smiled, running his thumb along your puffy bottom lip, before replying softly ‘yeah, timeless sounds good to me.’

pls don’t hesitate to send me requests ! i love writing these sm ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

789 notes · View notes

satocidal · 7 months

Note

CONTINUING THE NSFW!!!

THE WAY HE WAS GRINDING JOGOS ARM BETWEEN HIS LEGS. IF HE WASN'T AND I IMAGINED IT THEN JUST IMAGINE HE DID.

this guy will deffo be too high after fights. high on HORNINESS.

imagine the nasty fucking after each fight like Zijdkdkrkekr i just want him to snatch me up and use me as he pleases til he comes down from the adrenaline

Nothing just a small analysis of gojo’s kinks<3

I’ll keep that ask in my inbox because it’s important to me now💀 gotta get those ideas in a fic sometime SOON

Part 2 Part 3

A lot of nsfw undercut ✨

Ok you know what this made me realise? I have a certain softened exhibit for satoru—like not baby-fied but yk yk? In the sense like I often imagine him softening up during sex—even if he’s being mean But nah. He’s mean through and through—menace teenage gojo? Yes that NEVER left him at all

No because he is SUCH a tease— and he coos at you too, praise always mixed with condescension like, “Awh look at my pretty baby trying her best to be my slut? You like that? Like being a toy for me to use?” —like absolutely eats and leaves no crumbs when degrading—hits all the right spots with his words

And be assured he’ll scold you too, not like get his tone high but—this is filthy I feel weird writing when replying to you💀—but I imagine him being the kind to have you stand naked for him and you’re shy? Well satoru is the kind to tell you to be ashamed of your actions rather than your bare cunt

And he can and will tease for hours!! And not the “I won’t cum until you do”—no baby, he’s shameless. He’ll cum and cum and cum as many times he pleases—he’ll cum until you get so desperate that even the thought of being able to assist him is enough pleasure for you.

Ofc Satoru loves making you cry—just, adores it. Big fat tears rolling down your puffy cheeks as his hands pull you deeper and deeper to the base of his cock—or when he slaps your pussy until you squirt for him—or even he makes you get yourself off at his thigh/boot

I imagine satoru to be teasing, cruel in his ways but not sadistic—like a good amount of sobbing and he’ll be soft—you’re his baby after all. Geto however 💀💀

Listen pissing gojo off is tough because he’ll piss you off more and he’s lenient—but like for comparison, Geto doesn’t even get mad and will still punish you 😭

I’m not sure onto how into subby gojo you are but I am✨so after every fight it’s a 50-50 onto who’s int control. Like most nights (this only after something decent gets him worked up) he’ll come home in a frenzy and fuck you on every damn counter until both of you are out of breath.

BUT also—he’s a sucker for being used by you. Don’t even have to fuck his tight little ass, just tease his cock until he’s crying for you, thrashing—but he’s so obedient so he’d never go against you. You know? Make the strongest feel helpless? Yes.

#from.jaaneman #☼࿐𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐄.𝐍𝐄𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐁𝐎𝐔𝐑𝐒 #jujutsu kaisen #jjk x reader #jujutsu kaisen x reader #gojo x reader #jjk #satoru gojo smut #gojo satoru x reader #gojo satoru #gojo x y/n #satoru gojo x reader #gojo smut #jujutsu kaisen satoru #☼࿐𝐈𝐧𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐢𝐧𝐠→#☼࿐ 𝐑𝐎𝐌𝐄.𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 #gojo kink analysis

449 notes · View notes

solar-powered-potato · 7 months

Text

My gran just sent me photos of my grandad putting his feet up to try out the new kilt hose I made him as a gift, after a busy day celebrating his 80th.

He's a size 15 and hasn't had new hose made since around '96 he thinks. I didn't realise how bad his old ones were til gran asked me to darn them for her last year as her eyes are too bad now (she was never much of a knitter but did teach me the basics to get me started). I didn't realise he couldn't just...buy new ones. Even at 80, he's still 6'5" and a size 15 UK shoe. So when the lady from their village who knew how to make custom hose passed away he just, stopped getting new hose made.

I am so proud of these. I've never made hose before! I read books! I designed them myself! I bought FOUR (4) different yarns to try! I made more samples than I can remember! AND. THEY. FIT.

I love my grandad so much, I'm so happy he is going to wear these to their diamond anniversary party later in the month.

#knitting #hand knitted #scottish #personal

481 notes · View notes

Last Seen Blogs

bradutz

Bradut Ulmanu

mamafrimp

MamaFrimp

suaine

The Magic Exists

thefewproudemo

transcredwaters

"YOU KNOW I'LL NEVER DISAPPEAR"