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stargirllanaa · 4 months

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୨⎯ "Cruel World” - Rafe Cameron

❥ Masterlist

Warnings: Dark!Rafe, Noncon smut, toxic relationship, Abusive relationship, Domestic violence, Gun violence, Drinking, ex!rafe, Rafe is actually terrible, psycho ex bf Rafe

Summary: loosely, based on ‘Cruel World’ by Lana Del Rey, everything goes wrong when you spot your psycho ex bf at a New Year’s Eve party.

A/n ✎: Thank you so much for 100 followers! Ahhhh!!!! I’m so glad you guys are enjoying my work, I recommend listening to the song ofc but you don’t have too. Bold and italics are flashback. Enjoy <333

Wc: just under 3k

18+ MINORS DNI, YOU WILL BE BLOCKED

“Does anyone know where I put my eyeliner?” Your friend Nora asked you, as well as your other friend Violet.

You were all getting ready for some New Year's Eve party at Nora's boyfriend's house; everyone would be home from college for winter break, so you were excited to see all the people you went to high school with.

“No, but I know where the vodka is!” Violet chuckled,

“Come on, let's all take a shot!” Violet continued as she made her way over to you.

“Come on, y/n, are you going to pout all night? He might not even be there.” the brunette expressed as she sat beside you, bottle in hand.

She was referring to your ex, Rafe Cameron, and you knew for almost a fact that he would be there. Nora's boyfriend happened to be his best friend, Topper, and you and Rafe hadn't exactly ended on the best terms. The two of you had been broken up for about a month and a half; for the first two weeks, he would not stop texting and calling you, profusely apologizing, saying things like, ‘I'll go to therapy.’ ‘give me another chance.’ ‘I'll be better.’

It got so annoying that you had to block him; obviously, that wouldn't stop him. The thing was, Rafe was fucking crazy; he would always find a way to get to you, and if he didn't, he simply didn't want to.

“He's going to be there.” You said with a sign, “I'm just going to get fucked up, ignore him, and hopefully get some dick tonight.”

“That's the spirit!” Violet said as you tilted your head back, and she poured the vodka down your throat.

“Are you kidding me?” Your boyfriend asked you in a harsh tone as he stalked toward you.

“What?” you respond as you tried to take a wobbly few steps back.

His eyes narrowed at you, and his eyebrows furrowed.

“Well, aside from the clown makeup,” Rafe said, referring to your red lipstick.

“How many times do I have to tell you I don't like that dress?” Rafe interrogated as he roughly grabbed your waist.

“How many fucking times, y/n?” the blonde shook your body roughly. “For you to get it through your thick fucking skull?”

You were silent, frozen almost; whenever Rafe got violent, you didn't know how to react. You didn't fight; you didn't try to run; you stood wide-eyed in shock because if you did respond the wrong way, you knew it would make things 10x worse than they already were.

“Huh?” He asked you, shaking your body roughly again, waiting for you to respond.

“I- I don't know.” You mumbled weakly.

“You don't know,” he mocked with a dry humorless laugh.

“Go and change. Red looks trashy on you.” He stated before letting go of you with a harsh push into the wall.

All your friends knew that Rafe was bad, but they certainly didn't know how bad he was. You were so good at hiding it, concealer, color corrector, foundation, you name it; if it could cover a bruise, you had it. Every story you told them about your fights with Rafe were very watered down, and because of that, no one knew how truly scared you were to run into Rafe at this party. Not in an ‘Oh, no, my ex!’ way more in a ‘he might kill me way.’ But with every shot you took, you felt your fear start to fade slowly, and when you arrived at the party five shots in, in your little red party dress, you felt way more confident than you should have.

Your arm linked with Violet’s as your friend Nora lost the two of you to find her boyfriend. You and Violet stumbled through the house, passing through groups of people, trying your best to find the drink table.

“By the way, I love your dress,” Violet approved, looking you up and down. “Red is your color.”

“Thank you!” you smiled, taking the compliment to heart; she didn't know just how much that meant to you; you hadn't worn red since Rafe had told you it was ‘trashy’ on you.

“Fuck, is the Britney Smith?” Violet giggled, pointing at the short blonde girl.

“Isnt she pregnant?” you wondered as your eyes fell on the drink table.

“Oh my god, look who's right next to the drinks,” Violet says before covering her mouth with her hand.

“Is that Alex?” you replied, squinting your eyes to get a better look.

Violet nodded in response, eyes wide with excitement.

“Go talk to him!” you smiled at her. “I'll sit right over there,” you said, pointing at the elegant velvet couch.

As you sat on the couch, you couldn't stop thinking about Rafe. Your anxiety slowly started to rise, and you regretted every choice you made up to this point. First of all, you and Rafe had ended on horrible terms; second of all, you came to a party that you knew he would most likely be at, and now you are all alone and a little more drunk than you'd like to be.

You couldn't stop thinking back to that day, your breaking point, the last fight you had with Rafe before you ended things for good.

“Why are you following John B on Instagram?” Your boyfriend asked you as he looked up from his phone.

The question confused you a bit; you honestly didn't even know you were following him in the first place.

“I don't know?” you replied with a shrug. “Probably was an accident; maybe Sarah tagged him in something or-”

“Was it an accident when you smiled at him the other day at the wreck?” he cut you off.

Was he serious right now? John B had waved at you, and you simply smiled in return. You were just being nice; it was nothing more than that.

“Rafe, I-” You were going into very dangerous territory, and you knew that, even though Rafe was physically attractive, he was very insecure, which showed a lot in your relationship.

“If it's another bullshit excuse, I don't want to hear it,” he scolded as he stalked towards you.

He wasn't even giving you the chance to defend yourself, and frankly, it was pissing you off even more than his stupid questions.

“Rafe, I don't even know what you're talking about; I literally-” you plead with your boyfriend, taking a step back for every step he took forward.

“Of course you ‘Dont know,’ you never do.” Rafe hissed at you, moving closer and closer.

“That's what you do; you act all fucking innocent and then sneak around behind my back.” the blonde accused.

“Do you think I'm stupid?” He sneered, backing you against the wall.

That was the final straw; now he was accusing you of cheating from a simple smile and an Instagram follow. I mean, how delusional could he be?

“Are you fucking crazy?” you asked him, eyebrows furrowed.

You could tell he was shocked at your response by the way his eyebrows arched upwards slightly, but you could also tell you pissed him off by the way his jaw ticked.

“What did you say to me?” He asked; he heard you loud and clear the first time; he just wanted to see if you had the guts to repeat it.

“Are you fucking crazy? I follow him on Instagram. So what? I can unfollow him if it's a problem.” you argued, shocked that this was even an issue.

Rafe's hand shot forward without warning, delivering a sharp slap to your face. Time momentarily slowed as the impact echoed through the room. As the sting of the slap registered, a deep sadness clouded your features. You hated to say it, but you were used to rafe hurting you.

“Who do you think you're talking to?” Rafe asked you. Blue eyes are darker than their everyday shade.

“Huh?” He scoffed, laughing slightly.

“Calling me crazy…talking to me like I'm the one in the wrong?” your boyfriend shouted as he snatched a big chuck of your hair, gripping it tight enough to bring tears to your eyes.

“Rafe, I-” you tried to defend yourself as tears clouded your vision.

“No, I'm talking now.” His voice boomed as he screamed in your ear.

Rafe slammed your head against the wall behind you, using your hair as leverage; at this point, your ears were ringing, your head was banging, and you couldn't speak from the pain alone. And Rafe just kept going on and on about how important trust is in a relationship, but how could you even listen when he was gripping your hair so tight? But obviously, Rafe didn't see this as punishment enough because he dragged you by the hair to his closet, and even as he rustled through his sock drawer, clearly looking for something, he didn't once let go of your hair.

“Rafe! Stop-” You were cut off by the feeling of ice gold metal pressed against your temple; you were completely frozen, not knowing what to do; there was no way your boyfriend was pressing a gun against your head over an Instagram follow.

“If you even look at john b again, your fucking dead.” Rafe threatened coldly.

Your heart was racing; Rafe was impulsive knowing him; you could breathe the wrong way, and he would pull the trigger. That didn't stop your breath from fasting and your tears from falling, though.

“You hear me?” he asked, pulling your hair back just enough to make eye contact.

You didn't say anything; you had been sobbing ever since you felt the metal against your head in the first place.

“Do you hear me?” He shook you, demanding an answer, “I will fucking kill you.”

“Yes!” you cried out, hoping and praying for him to put the gun down and let go of you.

And when you left his house that night, you had never returned. Rafe did have his good moments, but was he worth your life? You broke up with him over text the following day, and you hadn't seen him since.

Since today, as soon as you looked up from your lap, lost in thought, you made eye contact with Rafe. You felt sick when you saw him; you knew he would be here, but you weren't expecting to see him this soon.

You stood up, making your way through the separate groups of people; you needed to find somewhere you could be by yourself because right now, you felt like you might have a panic attack.

“Excuse me,” you repeated over and over as you drunkenly stumbled to the stairs. No one was upstairs, other than maybe a few people hooking up, but other than that, it was pretty empty. You looked for a room, apologizing when you opened the door to see Nora and Topper making out. You stumbled through the halls until you found an empty room, sighing in relief as you closed the door behind you.

Your relief was short-lived because you didn't realize that Rafe was following behind you the entire time, and when he entered the room, you instantly regretted isolating yourself from the rest of the party and your friends.

“No.” you panicked, anxiety rising deep within your stomach.

He was intentionally standing in front of the door. There was no way out.

“Hey, Listen, y/n-,” Rafe said calmly, trying to calm you down.

“No! Get away from me!” you interrupted words slurring, not wanting to hear a thing from him.

You had no desire to speak to Rafe, not after all he had put you through in your relationship, not after you had been in therapy for the past month to heal the pain he had caused you. He wasn't just a regular ex, Rafe was fucking crazy, and you both knew it; you knew he was waiting to see you in person again, probably planning it, planning out exactly how he was going to get you back and what he was going to do if you declined his offer.

“Can you just listen to me!?” he snapped at you, slightly losing his calm demeanor. “I just want to talk-” He said through his teeth, walking over to you and away from the door.

“Well, I don't want to talk!” you barely even knew what you were saying; your head was spinning, and you regretted every shot you had taken earlier.

“So that's how it's gonna be, huh?” Rafe mumbled to himself more than you, fist clenching as he spoke.

As he got closer and closer, the room seemed easier and easier to escape; you knew you couldn't scream for help because of the loud music banging throughout the house; no one would hear you, and you knew you couldn't put up the best fight because you were drunk and Rafe’s also way stronger than you, he had proved this time and time again.

So you took the opportunity to run for the door while you still could. But two steps in, Rafe had already caught you and wrapped his arms around you, holding you tightly against his stiff chest.

“I didn't want to make this complicated.” he hissed into your ear. “But come on, y/n, it's almost like you want me to hurt you.”

You thrashed your body, wiggling side to side, trying to escape his grip.

“You’re fucking crazy!” You shouted as you continued to attempt to free yourself.

“Yes! I'm crazy,” Your ex admitted as his grip around you tightened, and his nostrils flared. “I'm crazy for you.” he dug his nails into your side.

“Get off of me!” you cried out, voice raw with emotion.

“You come to my best friend's party wearing the fucking dress I hate! Knowing I'm going to be here!” he criticized, pushing your body towards the bed. “It's almost like you want me to take it off.”

“Rafe, stop, I-” you were cut off by Rafe throwing you on the bed and wrapping his hands around your throat as he hovered over you.

“Shut the fuck up!” He sneered, looking down at you with dark eyes.

“You fucking left me!” His grip got tighter the more he spoke. “Not even a call, but a fucking text.” he scolded. “Do I really mean that little to you?”

You didn't end things the way you did because you didn't care about Rafe; you cared about Rafe so much, more than you ever wanted to, and that hurt; throughout everything he's done to you, all the pain he's caused you, you still cared. You broke up with Rafe over text because you were terrified; he had threatened to kill you over an Instagram follow; you couldn't imagine what he would have done if you dared to break up with him in person.

But you couldn't say any of that because he was choking you so hard that you couldn't breathe, let alone speak; all you could do was hit his hands repeatedly, hoping he would let go.

“You didn't care about my feelings. Why should I care about yours?” He asked you, looking deeply into your bloodshot, teary eyes with his blue angry ones.

Your mind was racing; Rafe was actually going to kill you. You saw this day coming many times throughout your relationship, but you didn't expect it to happen when you guys were finished. You had shared your body, your mind, everything with him, and you had been happy it was over; you finally were starting to feel like yourself again. But now he was going to take that all away from you.

Rafe finally let go when he started to see your eyes roll back as you started to lose consciousness.

You gasped for air in between coughs as you held your throat, desperate to soothe it from the pain he caused with his harsh grip. You had accepted death. You knew exactly who you were dealing with, and the thought of him killing you over a breakup wasn't too far-fetched.

“You have a lot of making-up to do after the stunt you pulled last month,” Rafe sighed as if he was inconvenienced by what he was doing to you.

The stunt you pulled? Your break up was serious, and for a good reason; he was lucky you hadn't called the police; if anyone had pulled a ‘stunt,’ it was him. He had pulled a series of stunts throughout your whole relationship. He was pulling one now.

Before you knew it, Rafe was tugging at your dress, attempting to pull it off you. If there was one thing you weren't doing, it was going down without a fight. You tried your best to kick him and scratch him, everything, but you were drunk, had just been choked, and Rafe was much stronger than you, so he pinned your wrist above your head with one hand and pulled the bottom of your dress up with the other.

“Remember this, y/n,” He said as he positioned himself up against your cunt. “Remember this feeling the next time you think about trying to leave.” He taunted before pushing into you roughly.

As he thrusted into you repeatedly at a rough and harsh pace, you sobbed. You thought Rafe was behind you; you told yourself you would never let a man hurt you the way he did again. You were so happy when he was gone.

“Fuck, take this off,” Rafe moaned as he pulled your dress over your head.

With every hash thrust, your cries got louder. Rafe didn't care about your pleasure or even his; he wanted to hurt you; he wanted to see your tear-stained face. This was your punishment, and he was succeeding. The only thing you felt between your legs was severe pain.

“HAPPY NEW YEAR!” you heard everyone downstairs scream in unison.

“Happy New Year,” Rafe smirked as he pulled you in for a rough, sloppy kiss.

Rafe was fucking crazy.

#dark!rafe cameron #dark!rafe cameron x reader #rafe cameron fanfiction #dark rafe cameron #obx fanfiction #outer banks fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #dark rafe x reader #obx imagine #rafe cameron imagine #rafe obx #rafe imagine #rafe outer banks #outer banks #dark!rafe x reader #dark!fic

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24-2-25 · 3 months

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❝YOU DID THAT ON PURPOSE!❞ ― sim jake

synopsis | you’re notorious for you’re bad luck in dodgeball. seems like the cute boy from your math class also has bad luck, considering he’s always there to keep you company on the ‘out’ wall.

wc | 1.1k

pairings | jake x fem!reader

genre | one shot, fluff

tw | dodgeball??

note | i wrote this in like 2022… it’s finally out 😼

you were notorious for your bad luck in the horrid hell game, also known as dodgeball. Everyone in you class knew it, your sigh can be heard through crowd when the game is announced.

As a person who isn’t a widely known dodgeball champ, you decide to a stick near the back where it seems the safest.

wrong.

lo and behold, as you stood near the back corner of the gym hiding from the treacherous foam balls, a purple ball comes flying and hits you hard on the shoulder.

“ow fuck!” you hissed holding your shoulder. your classmate on the other side cheers and high fives one of his friends.

ew teenage boys are all the same, prepubescent, smelly and far from mature.

you sat on the edge of the wall where all of hit students stayed.

you sat your back against the wall and as you got comfortable, a soft “hi” came from above you.

“oh jake hey.” you respond, still holding your shoulder from the impact.

“ah sorry about that! beomgyu gets a little competitive when it comes to pe class.” a sheepish smile appeared on his face as he apologized.

“nah it’s all good, it’s not like this was the first time.” you laughed it off.

his face brightened at your laugh, a pointy smile forming on his face.

“yeah you always seem to be on this wall. it’s almost as if there’s a reserved spot for you!” his cute giggles fill your ears.

okay you take it back, not all teenage boys were smelly and immature. especially not jake. he was the sweetest, kindest, most athletic and academic boy in your class. not to mention his insanely good looks and cute australian accent.

with that he was the most sought out boy of your grade, and you were glad that you could call him one of your friends. at least you hope he considered you a friend. after all he always talked and texted you.

“i’m surprised you’re here. you’re like so athletic.” you smiled at him.

“oh you know.. we all have our weaknesses.”

for example you, and he thinks that’s his biggest one.

jake couldn’t remember when he started to like you. your magnetic and captivating personality seemed to catch his eye the first time he saw you interact with your friends.

he couldn’t forget your pretty face and cute smile. and the sound of your laugh? best sound to ever bless his ears.

maybe it was when you offered to show him around without being told to when he first moved from australia. maybe it was your alluring kindness and generosity. he couldn’t tell for sure, but he did know that he wanted to be yours.

“that’s funny, who knew the most athletic kid would be bad at dodge ball.” you stated and he laughed and shrugged.

“you always seem to get hit around the same time as me though. it’s like fate.” you added, laughing.

he flushes a bit and laughs.

“i’d hope it is.” he whispers.

your teacher announced a jail break and you sigh, getting up from the wall and walking towards the back of the gym.

you had a good 5 minutes of peace before a dodge ball comes rushing and hit you square in the face.

“OW!” you screech. it was foam but damn the shit hurt. the person who threw that put his blood, sweat and tears in that.

“SORRY!” a your friend jisung screamed and ran up to you.

“han jisung you did not just hit me in the face.” you sighed annoyed holding your nose.

“my bad y/n. I’m sorry!” he tried comforting you.

you let go of your nose, then a red streak of blood came rushing out of your nostril.

“it’s fine-”

“shit y/n! your nose is bleeding!” he cut you off and screamed.

you wiped your nose with you finger and saw blood, cursing under your breath.

“i’ll help you and bring you to the offi-” he offered.

“hey jisung i can take her i’m out anyways!”. jake came running toward you guys. you didn’t care who came with you, you just needed to get there.

“okay thanks jake!” jisung smiled, getting back into the game.

“let’s go quick y/n.” he ushered you out of the gym. by then, your nose was bleeding on to your sleeves.

once you got into the office and sat with a tissue in your nose, you suddenly felt a rush of embarrassment.

“oh god that was so embarrassing!” you cried.

jake who was sitting next to you with a tissue box in hand giggled a bit. “no! it wasn’t.”

“you’re laughing!” you sighed, pouting at him.

“thanks for taking me here by the way. if jisung came with me he’d probably cause chaos in here.”

“nah it’s nothing.” he stated calmly, passing you another tissue.

“no you really didn’t need to do that.” you smiled while taking the tissue and changing it out with you old one.

“it’s funny that you got out at the same time though. again on accident i can’t believe it!”

“yeah on accident.” he sounded guilty?

“wait you did it on purpose?” you rose a brow.

“uh…no.”

“yes you did. why?” you questioned.

“because i wanted to be close to you.”

your mind was buzzing with questions and confusion. why would he want to be close to you? why would he lose on purpose? he loves sports.

“you see, i’ve kinda liked you since last year and i never really get the time to see you unless it’s gym or math class.” he suddenly got shy and avoided you gaze.

“huh? me? why?” you asked, confused. why would he like you? you didn’t consider yourself as pretty nor did he ever show interest in you before. where did this come from.

“it’s okay if you don’t like me bac-”

“i like you too.” you blushed.

“wait really?” his eyes widened.

“why wouldn’t i? you so sweet and smart and like amazing. why do you like me?”

“your just-“ he sighs almost lovingly and you immediately knew.

you laugh. “you’re silly! why would you lose purposely at a game to sit with me by the wall?”

“because i can’t talk to you otherwise, only on texts.”

“whatever goof, let’s go back to class.” you laughed again, getting up.

“fine, but only if you agree to a date with me?” he asked, extending his hand.

“sure, jake.” you smile, taking his hand and exiting the office.

maybe your bad luck in dodgeball wasn’t so bad.

#enhypen fanfiction #enhypen x reader #jake fanfic #jake sim x reader #jake x reader #jake enhypen #jake sim fanfic #jake x you #jake fluff #jake imagines #jake sim scenarios #jake sim fluff #jake sim imagines #sim jake x reader #✧― meimeiwrites!

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am-i-the-asshole-official · 5 months

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AITA for not supporting my best friend? (tw: suicide mention, sexual stuff)

so I(24 F2M) and my best friend Kat(28 F, not real name) used to date for 12 years, so a pretty long relationship and pretty much all of our teenhood and adulthood so far. We've lived together since I turned 18. About six months ago Kat left me for someone else she'd met, Carla(26 F). It was a nasty breakup but we made up and decided to remain best friends afterwards. I'm still very heartbroken over this, but I've tried to sit it aside for Kat's sake. Kat has since moved out to live with Carla but we still live close to each other and spend a lot of time together.

Our entire relationship, physical affection was a low. We tried having sex, but it ended up not working out and we refrained from doing anything else. A few years into living together we started sleeping in separate beds, and there was no kissing or cuddling. That was fine, I didn't want to pressure her into doing anything. The instant Kat and Carla started dating, she would not stop talking about how much she wanted to fuck her, hold her, and kiss her. Now that they're living together, it's all I hear. All of our conversations tend to be about Carla one way or the other. And that's fine, everyone needs a friend to chat to about their life, it was just hard for me to balance all this while still nursing a broken heart and feeling inadequate for being inexperienced.

I tried to tell Kat that these conversations were making me uncomfortable, but it made her angry. She was upset that our relationship had degraded to the point where we couldn't speak frankly about what was on our minds, and that I understand. I let her resume in earnest. I admit fault in this - after we broke up, I basically became a shut in. I have severe depression and I've attempted multiple times before, so I stopped communicating altogether for a while out of grief. I wasn't there for Kat when I should have been.

I ended up having a psychotic break that long story short ended in an attempt, and landed me in the hospital. Kat and Carla came to see me and sat with me for a while, and the conversation turned to their plans for marriage and children. Carla left for work and Kat continued on without her. I wasn't in the best state of mind, and I snapped at her that I don't want to hear this right now and that Kat constantly talking about her relationship with Carla with me wasn't helping me out. I didn't explicitly say it played a part in my attempt because I didn't want to send the message that I would have killed myself if Kat left me(it was multiple compounding reasons that resulted in the break that led to the attempt), but I may have sent that implication regardless. Kat seemed hurt, and I apologized and asked to be alone.

She then blew up at me, cursing me out, saying I was a horrible friend for not supporting her in her life and plans, that I was the one I she could trust and now she can't tell me anything because I'd react this way. It devolved into an argument where I admitted to her that I can't stand her talking about Carla so much and that while I understand if she chose her over me, I was still mourning the future I had with Kat and needed time to grieve. Things calmed down, Kat said she understood, and we had a few talks in-between nurse visits that eventually turned back into her talking about Carla in sexual detail. I just accepted at the time, but once I was discharged and tried to go back to living my life, I stopped talking to Kat more and more. She still leaves walls of text messages about her and Carla that I now ignore.

Where I might be the asshole: Ignoring Kat and getting upset about her trying to share her life with me post breakup. I don't like how I behaved and I should have supported her more than I did. She was in a period of her life where she needed me and wanted someone to share her joy with and I tried to take that away from her. I also might have implied that I attempted due to her leaving me for Carla.

Where I might not be the asshole: I wasn't in my right mind for a great deal of this, and Kat could have been more gentle with me when I was recovering from the attempt. I wouldn't outright call her an asshole for her behavior, I don't honestly think she did anything wrong - I agreed to talking with her about her life and supporting her, she was only utilizing that. Carla has absolutely nothing to do with this otherwise, and she's actually quite nice herself.

So, am I the asshole?

What are these acronyms?

#aita #am i the asshole #suicide cw

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mrs-lockley · 8 days

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Reach for the Moon | II. The Falling

PAIRINGS: (Slow Burn, Romantic) Jake Lockley x Southeast Asian Fem!Reader, (Platonic) Steven Grant x Southeast Asian!Fem Reader, (Unrequited) Marc Spector x Southeast Asian Fem!Reader, no use of Y/N, no physical description of the reader but coded to be very feminine

WARNINGS: Unrequited love (Reader is in love with Marc, Marc is oblivious but means well), mentions and discussions of food (cooking and baking), italics in dialogue indicates Reader and her parents speaking a foreign language (unspecified), brief mention of middle school and high school, so much yearning and fluff that you might get a toothache

WORD COUNT: 7.3k

Inspired by the 1954 film & 1995 remake of Sabrina, No Moon Knight AU.

SERIES MASTERLIST | PART I. THE BREAKING

CHAPTER SUMMARY: The wall begins to crumble, revealing the White Knight waiting on the other side. You soon learn there is more to the man beneath the armor, and see the heart that lies within.

TAGLIST: @soft-girl-musings, @venting402, @musing-magpie, @writefightandflightclub, @kezibear, @silverklaus, @badbishsblog, @marc-spectorr, @myhohastuff, @grumpyahjumma, @h4untedsp3ctor, @harv3sting

See end for author's notes

THE FALLING

The next couple of weeks were quiet, but eventful as the days grew shorter into the start of autumn. As the leaves changed from green to red and the air grew colder, you found solace in the change of seasons. A new season brought new beginnings, and life had a way of bringing you into unexpected places.

Since the success of your cousin’s bakery (the Mochi Flower Bakery and Café, as you and your cousin affectionately named it) in Singapore, your family considered expanding the business to New York. You exchanged ideas and recipes over video calls with your cousin, aunt, and uncle as your parents researched possible places to open up shop. It was all new and exciting, and in hindsight, distracted you from the heartache of being left at the market that summer night. There was no better distraction than trying to perfect the recipe for the most delicious lemon ricotta cake.

Marc texted you a few days later with an apology. He left you a voicemail as well (you were running errands when he called), and as you listened to his apology, you still could not find it in yourself to be upset with him for leaving you. How could you be angry with him when you still harbored an unrequited crush on him almost three years later?

When he offered to meet with you to make amends, you politely declined with an excuse that you were visiting an old college friend from out of town, but in reality, you did not know if you could face him again.

After that night, you carefully discarded the daffodils he had given you when he picked you up from the airport. Your heart was numb as you stared at the dried petals in the wastebasket, your eyes puffy and swollen for the next few nights. Could you truly mourn a loss if he was never yours?

You never told your parents or Steven the truth of the date, and you wondered if they knew. If they did, your parents never said anything, but your best friend —ever the perceptive man— seemed to know the truth, even when you tried to hide it from him.

It was a Sunday night when Steven was with you in the kitchen. While your parents were watching a drama in the living room, you and Steven wore matching aprons as he helped you bake a vegan blueberry cake.

“In the middle of my tour, I was talking about the Egyptian mummification process when one of the girls interrupted me and asked if I knew what it was like to be rejected from the Field of Reeds,” Steven told you as you frosted the cake. “Honestly, middle school girls can be vicious, especially when some of her friends laughed with her.”

You looked over at him, your eyes soft as you placed a gentle hand over his. “Kids can be brutal, but they’re just kids. I was a middle school girl once, and we aren’t all bad. People change.”

Steven smiled softly with a sigh as you finished frosting the cake. You wanted to replicate a vintage cake with different shades of blue and ivory cream, and you hoped that you were not putting too much buttercream. As pretty as vintage cakes looked, you did not like wasting the cream when you knew most people do not eat all of it. You were more accustomed to your desserts being on the lighter side of the sweetness scale, and ever since your return from Singapore, you had a hard time stomaching American pastries.

“You’re right about that love,” Steven agreed. Once you set the piping bag aside, he moved to start decorating the top with blueberries. “They’re just kids, but they’ll change and grow. But I admit, I was feeling a little sassy too.”

You lowered your hands and looked at him, an eyebrow raised. “What did you do?”

“Nothing!” You narrowed your eyes at him, lightly swatting his hand as he sneakily tried to eat a few blueberries. “I just told her that the souls in the duat would try to claim anyone who fell in the sand, and that she better hope that if I was rejected, I wouldn’t be the first one to eat her.”

“Steven Grant!”

Your best friend chuckled as you scolded him, narrowly dodging your wooden spoon. “She was being rather nasty throughout the tour, so I had to give her a reality check.”

You let out a dejected sigh as he grabbed another handful of blueberries from the basket. You did not have the heart to tell him to stop since you already finished decorating the cake.

For as long as you have known Steven, he was quite a character. Smart and quick-witted, he always fired back in the most eloquent manner.

“Okay, maybe she deserved it,” you told him, trying not to roll your eyes as he grinned mischievously beside you. “But I’m not condoning it.”

You moved over to the stove to pour yourself, Steven, and your parents a cup of tea. Throughout your life, your parents always liked a cup of tea with their dessert, and through the years, you got Steven into that habit as well.

Your best friend hummed quietly as he helped set the cups on the counter, his fingers lightly tracing the small teacup. It was one of your favorite sets, white with a dark blue floral design painted across the ceramic with a matching saucer and golden teaspoon.

“I don’t think I’ve seen this set before,” Steven mused as you placed the kettle back onto the stove. “When did you get this?”

Heat licked at your cheeks, your heart pounding as you looked down at the cup. The warmth of the tea burned your fingers slightly as you held the teacup in your hands, and if you pulled away, you wondered if the flowers burned onto your skin like a brand that would never heal.

“Marc got it for me for my birthday before I went to Singapore,” you answered quietly, your voice low. “I don’t remember where he got it, but he said he knew someone who knew where to find tea sets.”

A dull ache grew in the depths of your chest as you remembered your last birthday before you left for Singapore. Your parents took you out of town to celebrate the Friday before your birthday, and that weekend, your mother cooked your favorite noodles (“for long life,” she would always say) and your father commissioned one of his coworkers to bake a special cake for you. You celebrated one day with your family, and another with your old childhood and college friends. It was a wonderful sendoff before your departure, but you could not help but feel nostalgic at the memory.

One day, you lamented to Marc how much you wanted a matching tea set. A few times you traveled with your parents as a teenager to the Lion City where you admired your aunt’s tea sets that she displayed in their china cabinet. You remembered how much your mother pestered your father to buy any matching dinnerware whenever there was a sale at her favorite department store, especially when there were tea sets. While your family did not have much when they immigrated to the United States, your mother would tell you that her parents collected china and other sets as family heirlooms. She wished she could have taken it with her to New York, and you wanted to help her create a collection here.

A few days before your birthday, Marc dropped by your place with a gift box wrapped beautifully with a navy blue bow on top. Your parents were in the kitchen eavesdropping as you opened the gift on the living room floor with Marc at your side.

“Marc, it’s beautiful,” you told him. You held the ceramic delicately in your hands, sighing in awe as you turned it over. The dark blue floral design was nostalgic and intricate. “They look just like the ones that my aunt and uncle have back home.”

He smiled gently at you, his arms warm as you hugged him. “I’m glad you liked it. Happy birthday, kid.”

You placed your teacup down on the saucer and sighed. Out of all the tea sets you owned, you rarely used the blue one that Marc had given you. It was your favorite, and as much as your mother wanted to take it down from the china cabinet to use, you always told her that you wanted to save it for special occasions.

But since that night, you brought it down from the cabinet. Your mother didn’t say anything when she watched you wash the set in the sink, and you wondered if she knew the real reason you brought it down.

He was quiet as he spoke, his voice barely above a whisper. “Did Marc hurt you?”

You felt his eyes on you as you rolled the golden teaspoon between your fingers. You did not know if you had the courage to look at him.

Instead of answering, you shook your head. Steven sighed beside you, and you knew he did not believe you.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

Tears pricked your eyes, and you quickly brushed them away with the back of your hand.

“There’s nothing to talk about. He still loves her, and I have to move on,” you answered as you turned to him with a weak smile. “I have to grow up and be a big girl now.”

His brown eyes softened, but full of worry as he looked at you.

“Don’t blame yourself, love,” he comforted you. “He still cares about you.”

You knew that Marc still cared for you as a friend, but deep down, you knew he would never love you the way you loved him.

“I know,” you whispered. You wiped at your eyes again and sighed, trying to get your mind off it. “Let’s cut the cake and bring the tea in the living room for my parents. They’re too engrossed in their drama to get off the couch.”

He chuckled softly, and you were grateful he did not bring it up again for the rest of the night. For the rest of the evening, you and Steven sat with your parents in the living room drinking tea and eating cake as they explained the romantic drama they were watching. It was a show that you remembered watching with your cousin in Singapore, and you could not help but smile as you saw how engrossed Steve became with the plot and characters.

At the end of the night, you packed a few slices of the cake (with extra blueberries, per Steven’s request) for Steven to take home for Marc and Jake. As you walked him to the bus stop at the end of your street, he turned to you and pulled you into his arms, his voice soft and gentle.

“I am always here for you, love,” he whispered, “whenever you need me.”

Your heart ached as he comforted you, and you pulled him tighter into your embrace.

“Thank you.”

You sit in the kitchen with ink stained on your fingers as you look over the drawings of cakes, cupcakes, and different pastries in your sketchbook. Jake texted you earlier that afternoon if you wanted to join him in surprising his neighbor for her birthday. Taweret lived alone with the rest of her family back in Cairo, and she only had a couple friends with her in New York. There were a few times you encountered her whenever you visited his apartment (mainly to cook and exchange recipes with Steven), you became acquainted with the elderly lady. Whenever she saw you, she always requested to try whatever baked goods that you brought with you. Because of her, you always packed extra sweets, knowing how much she adored you and you, her.

Your parents were not too familiar with Jake, but they knew enough that he was quite old-fashioned and polite (and “reminiscent of the gentlemen of my youth,” your mother remarked to your father’s chagrin). You wondered if they were relieved that it was not Marc at the door when Jake dropped you off after your “date.”

True to his word, he was around much more than before and met with you often. In the times that you two met, they were casual outings where you would grab a bite to eat or a drink at the local coffee shop. Other times, you asked him to tag along with you as you ran a few errands around town. It was during those times he offered to drive you, especially when you were grocery shopping for ingredients to try new recipes to add to a possible menu. He never accepted gas money from you (despite all the sneaky ways you tried to bribe him), but you compromised and treated him —and Steven and Marc— to any baked goods you created.

Once you are satisfied with your revisions, you tuck your journal into your bag and take a seat at the kitchen island, your eyes locked on the oven window. While you are in charge of the cake, Jake is in charge of dinner, explaining he was going to try to make a traditional Egyptian dish. As he was already at the supermarket to pick up some groceries, he told you that he would pick you up since he would pass by your place on the way back.

Different ingredients scatter the counter between the two of you as you organize your supplies. While you have your powdered sugar and tray on one side, Jake has his supplies and containers on the other, including a tupperware of cooked elbow macaroni, tomato sauce, and a bag of store-bought fried onions.

Jake stands at the stove with his back turned to you. Even on a casual Thursday night, he is dressed in his usual white button-down dress shirt with the sleeves rolled to his elbows, revealing his warm tan skin. The only difference between his house clothes and outside clothes was the lack of his flat cap and tie, and his dress pants swapped with jeans and a plain apron to cover himself.

Curiously, you stand beside him and watch as he stirs the lentils and rice together in a pot. The smell of coriander and pepper welcomes you, and your tummy grumbles at the smell and sight.

“What are you making?”

“Koshari, I remember Taweret mentioning how much she misses eating it from back home. I watched a few tutorials and researched the recipe, and I hope I got it down,” he answers with a small smile.

Then, he leans over to the side and pulls out a spoon from the drawer to hand to you.

“Give it a try and let me know how it is, or if I’m missing anything. Once this is done, I just need to combine everything together.”

You grin as you dip the spoon into the pot. The tangy and spicy flavor fills your mouth in heat, but not too much that it would burn your tongue. It was enough spice to give the kick it needed.

“It’s a little spicy, but not too spicy. It’s delicious,” you tell him with an encouraging smile. “I’ve always been curious to try your cooking. Steven says you’re the best cook between the three of you.”

He pauses slightly as he turns to you. His face is slightly flushed, his brown eyes wide in surprise at your words. “He said that?”

You smile with a nod of your head. “He did. When I visited him at the Smithsonian last week for lunch, he told me you made vegan shakshuka for him and he loved it. He said it was better than the shakshuka he normally makes.”

You remember sitting on the steps outside of the museum last week when you stopped by to see him during his lunch break. It was a beautiful autumn day where the museum was not too busy on a Tuesday afternoon, and his boss was kind enough to give him an extended break after doing several grade school tours that week.

“I experimented and made some bagels last night, and I made a couple vegan ones for you,” you told him as you unwrapped the bagels on your lap. Your best friend smiled and thanked you as you handed it over to him. “I hope you like it, it’s my first time making bagels.”

“I know it’ll be great. Jake made a batch of vegan shakshuka for me and I think this would be a good match.” Steven opened his lunch and dipped the bread in his tupperware, even offering you a piece as you followed his instructions to dip your piece into the stew. “I don’t know how he did it, but he mastered it. I’ve been trying to make a decent version for months, and his version tastes better than all of my previous attempts. He’s the best cook out of all of us.”

As you look over at Jake, you are stunned to see his surprise. While you met Steven first and became friends with Marc second, it seemed that there were more layers to Jake than you realize. You knew that he was a private person who kept to himself, and you once believed he was an aloof individual who often kept people at arm’s length in the backseat of his car to keep his privacy. In the past, you only conversed with him from time to time, but over the past few months, you see that he is more sentimental than he appears to be.

A knowing smile kisses your lips as he tries to hide his smile from you. You give him the privacy to cherish the moment as you turn back to the oven to watch the cake slowly rise.

“Can I say something?” You ask.

He hums slightly and nods as he turns off the stove.

Wanting to help him, you reach for the bowl of chickpeas and heat them in the microwave. “You remind me of a tiramisu.”

He pauses for a moment with a soft chuckle, amused. “A tiramisu?”

You nod with a small smile. “Yes, a tiramisu. Before I got to know you, I used to think you were a bit detached with how private you are. I didn’t know much about you except from what Steven and Marc told me, and we only met a few times before I left for Singapore.”

At the beep of the microwave, Jake hands you the oven mitts to take the chickpeas out. You move closer to him as the two of you prepare to mix the lentils, rice, tomato sauce, pasta, and chickpeas together.

“What changed your mind?” He asks quietly.

You think about his words as you plate the rice and lentils. “Spending time with you,” you answer. “The more time I spend with you, whether it’s you taking me to the bodega or the Asian supermarket, or even moments like these, you’ve shown me there’s more to you than people think. You’re private, but you’re also very kind.”

Jake steps closer to you to place the pasta and chickpeas on top. You could not read his expression. Did he find you weird and strange? Was he upset or offended?

As you move to hand him the tomato sauce, his hands reach for yours, helping you and quietly telling you to be careful since the bowl was still warm from when he cooked it earlier.

His brown eyes flicker with amusement and curiosity as he glances up at you.

“I still do not see how this pertains to me reminding you of tiramisu, conejita.”

You laugh softly as you look down at the koshari on the plate.

“Tiramisu is like this dish,” you explain as he mixes everything together. “You may look a bit off-putting at first with how reserved and quiet you are, but that’s not a bad thing. The closer you look, there are different layers. They seem strange when they are all separated, but once you dig through the layers, you are very sweet like a tiramisu.”

Your eyes glance over at him, and you notice how his movements seem to slow as he waits for your next words.

“You made Steven shakshuka and you cooked Taweret’s favorite dish to surprise her for her birthday so she won’t be alone. You take care of people in a quiet way,” your voice grows softer as you speak, your heart aching slightly at the memories. “Twice, you found me crying and alone, and you were the one to bring me back home.”

His gaze softens as he looks at you, and for a moment, you are brought back to that summer evening when Marc left you at the night market. You still remembered the heartbroken look on his face, the pain in his eyes, and the fear in his voice when he left. He was in so much pain, and even with your heart breaking in front of him, you wished you could take his pain away from him.

Since that night, Marc left you a voicemail with his apology and wished to meet with you again, and as much as it hurt you, you kept your distance. It pained you how quick you were able to think of another reason why you could not see him. Perhaps with each text, you could finally cut those heartstrings, be a big girl, and move on.

Yet, the ache remained. It splintered deep inside of you like a tree taking deep roots in your chest, leaving a scar that you feared would never heal.

“How is he doing, by the way?” You ask quietly as your lips begin to quiver. “Is he alright?”

He does not say anything for a moment as his gaze washes over you, and you wonder if he knew about your feelings for Marc. If he did, he never showed it.

His voice is gentle as he speaks, his eyes soft.

“Marc is doing just fine,” he answers. “Steven and I are looking after him.”

You want to believe him, but a part of you hesitates. While you did not know the relationship between the three men, you did know one thing. Marc was perceptive, and he would worry. The last thing you wanted him to think was that he hurt you— you knew he would never forgive himself if he believed it.

To your surprise, Jake leans forward and moves closer to you, his breath tickling the shell of your ear. You blink in surprise and take a step back at his sudden movement.

“You have flour on your face,” he whispers. “Hold on.”

Suddenly, you feel the world stop around you as his hand softly caresses your face. You hold still, your heart beating rapidly in your chest as his thumb brushes the flour off your cheek. His touch is gentle and light, and he holds you as if you are a delicate thing. This was the first time Jake touched you like this and for a reason you could not explain, it was electrifying. It is as if he lit a flame and you are melting like candle wax under his touch.

Your head is still spinning when he pulls away. Your throat constricts as he looks at you, and for a moment, you forget how to breathe.

You do not know what has come over you. As his gaze meets yours, the two of you are quiet with the only sound of your flustered breath filling the silence. While he shared the same face as Marc and Steven, it is the first time you see him up close.

His eyes are just as brown, but there is a different softness to them in the kitchen light. A certain warmth fills his gaze—although intense—there is a sense of safety and familiarity as the corners of his eyes crinkle into a whisper of a comforting smile. A dark stray curl rests on his forehead, and if you look close enough, you catch slivers of starlight dusting at his temples.

You always believed Jake to be a handsome man, and in the past couple of months that you have gotten to know him, you see him differently. He is the kind of handsome that you read in your romance novels, the quiet gentleman who was always by the heroine’s side, and in that moment, you understand why people have always gravitated towards him.

You have looked at him many times before, but your heart begins to ache in your chest. He wiped away your tears before and has comforted you in your most heartbroken and vulnerable moments, so why would brushing flour away cause you to feel like you are sixteen again?

The sound of the timer interrupts your thoughts. You gasp softly and quickly turn away to grab the oven mitts, welcoming the distraction from your heated cheeks and your beating heart.

As you pull the cake out of the oven, you hear Jake pull away from you and the sound of a utensil scraping against the bottom of the pan. You set the cake onto the counter and are grateful for this moment—you are not sure if you had the courage to look at him yet.

With a deep breath, you glance down at the cake. The cake baked into a beautiful summer yellow with the edges a golden brown. It was perfect and exactly how you envisioned it.

His voice breaks your thoughts, and it takes everything in you to not look at him.

“What kind of cake did you make?”

“Lemon ricotta,” you answer softly. Your hands tremble slightly as you reach for the strainer and powdered sugar from across the counter. You feel his eyes on you, and as much as you try to hide it, you still feel nervous in front of him. “I made a lemon ricotta cake once a few months ago and Taweret said she loved it, so I wanted to make it for her again.”

Taking a deep breath, you ignore the way your hands tremble and begin to sift the flour and powder the cake with a light dusting of sugar for decoration. The two of you quietly work on completing your dishes with only the sound of a soft ballad playing from his vinyl record player in the living room.

Once you are finished, you set your tools aside and look down at the cake. Lemon ricotta was not your specialty as you only baked it a couple times, and you worried about how it looked. Would she even like the cake with how simple and plain it looked?

“I want it to be perfect for her,” you whisper softly. “Do you think she’ll like it?”

His footsteps echo behind you. As he stands beside you, your head begins to spin. The warmth of his body radiates off him, and even as he stands a few inches beside you, the heat of his touch lingers on your skin.

“That woman loves everything about you and adores you,” Jake assures you. “She’ll love it. I know she will.”

Warmth kisses your cheeks at his encouraging words. You never doubted your skills as a pastry chef, but hearing such praise from Jake strikes a chord in you. There were no words to describe your feelings at the moment. A foreign feeling tugged at your heart, reminiscent of butterflies that once fluttered in your tummy.

“Go ahead and set the table,” he instructs as he gathers your supplies. “I’ll clean up. I already texted Taweret and she’ll be here in a few minutes.”

He smiles encouragingly at you, and you move to set the table. As you arrange the plates and utensils, you spare another look at Jake and watch him set the pots and pans in the dishwasher. You have spent countless days and afternoons in the kitchen with Steven and Marc in the past, but this is your first time to be in the kitchen with Jake.

A few months ago when you returned from Singapore, you never would have thought that you would be baking by his side in the kitchen where you shared so many memories with his brothers. It was strange since you were not used to seeing Jake in such a domestic way, but it brings an odd comfort and warmth to you as he whistles in the kitchen.

You smile to yourself as you look down at the golden cake sitting at the edge of the table. In the past, you baked mochi for your family, lemon ricotta cake for Taweret, blueberry cake for Steven, and rocky road for Marc. There were so many layers to who he is, and you hope one day, you could bake Jake a sweet tiramisu.

The moon was high in the sky by the time Jake opened the passenger door for you to take you home. Not a single cloud was in sight, and the stars twinkled like pearls of light above you.

It truly was a beautiful evening. When Taweret arrived, her face lit up like the rising dawn. Without a second thought, she pulled you and Jake into her embrace. Your eyes began to mist when you felt a few drops of her tears fall onto your blouse, but you smiled warmly at her as Jake kissed her forehead and told her how much he loved her. You have only known Taweret for a short amount of time, but you were already fond of her and looked up to her as a mother figure.

Smiles, laughter, and memories were shared over dinner. As the three of you finished his koshari, Taweret spoke about her favorite childhood memories. You listened intently as she recalled not only her childhood, but her “wild youth” from running around with her girlfriends in Cairo and arguing with the university boys and rival sorority sisters. The three of you laughed until your ribs ached, your cheeks sore from smiling, and your tummy full from the warmth and love poured into the food that was shared.

And to your surprise, Taweret loved the lemon ricotta birthday cake. She patted your cheek affectionately as you served her the first slice with a gentle and warm smile on her face.

“Thank you, darling,” she beamed, “you always make the sweetest cakes.”

As you are about to thank her, Jake leaned in beside her, a knowing smile and wink as he sung the highest praises for you.

“She baked everything with love,” he told her, and your cheeks instantly heated at his kind words. “That’s her secret ingredient.”

Jake only smiled at you as you looked down at the yellow cake on your plate, hoping to find some solace on the finely dusted sugar sitting on top of your masterpiece. You barely heard them speak over the sound of your heartbeat ringing in your ears and the warmth kissing at your soft cheeks. This was not the first time Jake complimented your strengths, so why are you suddenly shy and bashful like a schoolgirl?

You vaguely recalled the last time you felt like this. Before you left for Singapore, you remembered sitting at a picnic bench with Marc as his way of bidding you bon voyage. He carried the picnic basket over to the bench and helped you arrange the pieces on the table.

“Since I’m also helping out with their social media and marketing, I might as well start practicing how to take the best pictures and videos for advertising,” you remarked as you finished taking pictures of the set-up. You had a blanket draped over the table with minimal cutlery and accessories. “Don’t you think?”

Marc chuckled beside you as you put your phone in your bag. You would edit the photos when you get home and send them to your cousin later for her to critique. “I thought your generation was tech savvy and grew up on the internet?”

“I’m on the cusp and was fortunate that the internet was still starting out. It wasn’t as crazy as it is now. Besides, I don’t have many social media handles for a reason,” you answered, “I don’t want people from high school finding me.”

“Oh?” He raised an eyebrow at you. “Why not?”

“I closed that chapter in my life. When I go to my high school reunion years from now, I want everyone to be surprised to see how much I’ve matured and grown up,” you sighed wistfully, imagining a romantic moment in your future reunion. “If they have any difficulty in recognizing their classmate, then I shall be the most sophisticated woman in the high school gymnasium.”

Your high school days were not the worst, but they were not the greatest, either. Your teenage days were not that far behind you, but you still had so much to look forward to in the years to come.

An amused smile shined on your friend’s face as he leaned forward and patted a piece of your hair.

“You are already a beautiful, intelligent, and sophisticated young woman,” he complimented you with a playful tap on your nose. “You will be the belle of the ball.”

But the days and nights you spent with Marc were long gone. Deep down, you grieved the chapter of your life where you were by his side. You convinced yourself into thinking the two of you were fated to be together for the rest of your lives, but life had its own way of cutting that invisible string you deluded yourself was tied between your fingers. The dried daffodils in your wastebasket was the evidence to the end of your fantasies.

Yet, the universe had a strange way of bringing things full circle. As you bury the thoughts of Marc aside, a sense of déjà vu washes over you with your heart feeling as hopeful as that night when Jake first found you on the steps outside of his apartment. It was odd to think that in the two years you spent away from home, Jake rarely passed your mind.

Now, your thoughts gravitated towards him. The ghost of his touch lingered from when he brushed away the flour on your cheek, and his praise echoed in your ears like a distant lullaby. It was as if your heart would burst from your chest with each moment you replayed in your mind and you wondered if you could trust yourself to open up again.

Before you could entertain that thought, the sound of his voice breaks the silence.

“Thank you for coming tonight,” Jake glances over at you with a small smile, one gloved hand on the steering wheel, the other adjusting the rear view mirror. “I know it was a short notice.”

You smile reassuringly at him from the passenger side. “It was no problem, thank you for inviting me. I’m happy that we were able to celebrate her special day.”

You do not see Taweret often, but after tonight, you promise yourself that you would reach out to her more. She was such a character, and you make a note to give her extra delicacies you create in the future, especially if it involves lemon ricotta.

Jake grins at you as he stops at the stoplight, his voice light and airy.

“She adores you and talks about you like you hung the moon.” He spares you a glance with a gentle smile. “And she loved every bit of your cake.”

“Oh—” your cheeks grow warm at his words. The thought of Taweret talking about you so sweetly made your heart swell, especially when you were so worried that her birthday cake was plain.

He chuckles softly. “If it’s okay to ask, when did you start baking?”

You think for a moment as the two of you watch a few college students cross the street. “I’ve always had a sweet tooth, but growing up, I did not like American candy as much. It was always too sweet, and sometimes I felt like throwing up when I had cake. Nothing tasted like the snacks and sweets I would get from the Asian supermarket.”

You smile fondly as you remember your childhood. Growing up, there was not an Asian supermarket near your neighborhood. Most weekends, you dragged behind your parents as they bought their groceries at big retailers, and the only times you grew excited were when they either brought you to the local bodegas so you could pet the owner’s guard dogs (who were surprisingly gentle with children), or the Asian markets that were out of town. It was only until high school when they established one a few blocks away and within walking distance, and you were finally able to grab your favorite Meiji snacks.

“I often had too much time on my hands during the summer breaks, so I experimented in the kitchen. My mom never liked baking, but I saved up to buy some supplies, watched tutorials on YouTube, and even chatted with my cousin for ideas,” you laugh lightly. “It started when I was in middle school when we had a bake sale for fundraising, and I fell in love with it since.”

The light turns green, and Jake nods as he follows along.

“What would you say is your favorite to bake? Or, what would you say is your specialty?”

Your heart flutters in your chest at his question. It is not often someone asks about your favorites, let alone your specialty. You are so used to taking requests and baking for others based on their favorites, but rarely did someone ask about yours.

“Strawberry cake,” you answer, thinking about the colorful pink hue of the cakes you made in the past. “Especially with buttercream.”

“Like strawberry shortcake?”

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s easy to confuse the two based on their names, but strawberry shortcake is different since that’s shortbread with strawberries on top. Strawberry cake—”

“I know,” he laughs with a slight shake of his head. “I meant the character.”

Oh. Oh!

Heat envelopes your face at the thought. You adored Strawberry Shortcake as a little girl and collected the books, plushies, stickers, almost anything with your favorite freckled heroine. Even though she is in the arms of another child, you remember your Strawberry Shortcake doll that you used to carry with you everywhere with her apron smelling just like freshly cut strawberries.

When you did not respond, Jake immediately tried to correct himself.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to offend you—”

“No, not at all,” you laugh. “She was one of my favorites as a child. Being compared to her makes me happy, so thank you.”

From the corner of your eye, you notice him smile in relief. You look down at the plastic bag full of tupperwares on your lap. As you cleaned the dinner table, you did not realize that Jake prepared extra koshari for you to take home to your family in extra tupperwares.

“And thank you for the food, too. I’ll have this for lunch tomorrow.”

He smiles at you, his voice soft. “You’re welcome.”

Life had a strange way of bringing things full circle. Filled with warmth, a sense of déjà vu washes over you with your heart feeling as light as that night when he first found you on the steps outside of his apartment. Not once, but twice he found you heartbroken, but since you returned to New York, your nights were spent with him where you would watch him from the passenger side. The wall that separated you two had begun to crumble, revealing the man dressed in white knight armor.

The fluttering of your heart confuses you when he parks in the driveway. Your pulse echoes in your ears as he opens your door with a gloved hand outstretched towards you, and your legs begin to shake with each step you take towards your front door. Why does the warmth of his glove burn your skin? Why does he suddenly make you skittish like a frightened deer?

It must be because he touched my face, you reason with yourself when you step inside. Your parents greet him with friendly smiles, and for unknown reasons, you feel a tug on your heartstrings when he lifts his hat at you.

As he walks away, you are left standing in the kitchen with a cold tupperware of koshari in your hands. Your parents kiss your cheek before walking up the stairs, and with each kiss, you imagine what it would feel like if Jake’s lips kissed your cheeks goodnight.

The early afternoon sunlight streams through your curtains when you wake that morning. Downstairs, you hear your father playing his favorite old songs on his speaker, the foreign language bringing you comfort and a sense of nostalgia. It was finally the weekend.

With a yawn, you force yourself out of bed and walk down the stairs. The love ballads grow louder, and you find your mother seated at the kitchen table with breakfast leftovers covered with a napkin.

“Good morning, baby,” she greets you as you smile sleepily at her. “Did you sleep well?”

You nod and rub your eyes while taking a seat in front of her. Last night, you spent a few hours on Messenger talking to your cousin about the newest addition they added to the Mochi Flower Bakery and Cafe. While the Mochi Flower was best known for matcha mochi cake, your cousin wanted to expand the menu to keep up with their local competitors. She shared with you the different designs that were shared with the class that included floral prints and a few beloved childhood characters like Hello Kitty. A couple months ago, she took a class from a masterclass baker on how to add such delicate designs to a sponge cake, and she’s been in love with it ever since.

Before you realized it, you were on Messenger for almost three hours. It was nearly three in the morning when you ended the call, your mind reeling from the designs she showed you. Both of your families considered opening a sister bakery in New York, and with each call you had with her over the spotty internet, the idea no longer felt like a dream, but a possibility.

“I did,” you answer, looking at the clock hanging on the kitchen wall. You did not realize it was past noon. “I haven’t slept in like this since my last semester of college.”

Your mother laughs, and you laugh along with her. The twelve hour time difference was tough, and you were honestly surprised her internet lasted that long with minimal interruptions.

At that moment, your father walks in and greets you good morning with a soft kiss to the top of your head as he places a bowl of cut strawberries in front of you.

Your eyes widen slightly at the vibrant hue. “Papa, did you go to the grocery store this morning? When did we have strawberries?”

Your father shakes his head. “I didn’t buy them. Your driver friend dropped them off this morning.”

Driver friend? You wonder, knowing your father often forgets the names of your friends. Did he mean Jake? You have not talked to him in a couple weeks, not since Taweret’s birthday.

“The gentleman with the hat,” your mother clarifies. “He came by this morning and dropped off a box of strawberries that he got at the farmer’s market. He said it was for you.”

Your heart skips a beat as she hands you a yellow post-it note. Across the page, you memorize the straight lines of Jake’s handwriting, softly tilted in black ink.

For your strawberry cake - J

AUTHOR'S NOTES: Thank you so much for your support! The idea of Conejita and White Knight!Jake has been floating around in my head for about a year, and with time, they finally came to fruition. Special thanks to @soft-girl-musings for listening to my ideas and late night texts on Discord. My laptop has been out of commission as of late, so I was unfortunately unable to post this sooner, but it's finally here!

To be honest, this series started when I was quarantined with COVID (part 1 was written when I had it the first time, part 2 the second time I had COVID, go figure lol). It makes me so happy to see that you have grown fond of conejita as well. I am a slow writer, and I want to thank everyone of you for your patience and support.

Originally it was going to be a trilogy, but since I am notorious for writing long fics, this series will most likely be four parts instead! I have a couple more characters I want to introduce. If you want to continue being on the taglist, please let me know. Stay tuned for updates and any future fics! I have a few more I want to put out this summer 🤍

Love, Celeste

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ilylovelyz · 10 months

Note

hi! read their past sakusa fics and the way they write kiyo is so hot and nice 😩 wondering if they could write more abt yandere / bully sakusa fics (or anyone in msby or all of them tgt tbh JSJJS) 😭

⍣ ೋ BEcause

˚ · . atsumu x afab!reader

: ̗̀➛ warning(s): noncon, gaslighting, manipulation, lovebombing, physical assault, physical and mental abuse, atsumu is a terrible person, cheating, forced solitude, baby trapping

until a man heals himself he'll be toxic to every woman who tries to love him.

yandere!atsumu, from the moment he met you, knew that you would be the absolute death of him.

yandere!atsumu, who verbally claimed you as his to anyone who could hear. a "cheerful" facade on his face while he boasted about you as if you were his girlfriend.

yandere!atsumu, who acted all understanding and almost apologetic to a guy that seemed to have a crush on you. he would pat the guy's back a little too hard, lightly giving him a "sorry, but i think she's taken." veins almost protruding out of his neck while he resisting the urge to choke out the guy just for showing interest in you.

yandere!atsumu, who is surprised when you confront him for spreading rumors about you, accusing him of being a creep. but you're quickly turned from being livid to blushing, as his charisma and charming demeanor is all too much for you. he apologizes for his actions, but denies the majority of it. as a way to make up for it, he formally asks you out to an expensive dinner.

yandere!atsumu, who violently assaults the whistleblower, not caring if it's a man or woman. he'll ram their head into the wall and kick them a few times while they are down, bleeding profusely. he'll spit on them as a cherry on top, condemning them to hell for snitching.

yandere!atsumu, who will act surprised when you point out his bruised knuckles, will literally say "how did this happen?" he'll brush off your concerns, and try to avoid using his hands the rest of the night.

yandere!atsumu, who even during the talking stage, is completely protective towards you and is hostile to anyone who even dares to talk to you. he'll act so sad and upset that nobody wants to be your friend anymore, comforting you when you cry that your own male best friend isn't talking to you anymore for some reason.

yandere!atsumu, who follows you home "just in case," memorizing your pad-code lock password and will eventually break in later that night, watching you while you sleep, "just in case."

yandere!atsumu, who walks around carefree in your house while you sleep, cleaning for you but also eating your leftovers. just for an extra measure, he'll bug your phone and send a text message to any remaining friends, saying that "you" don't want to be friends with them anymore, leaving nasty messages that will end up with you finding yourself blocked later that morning.

yandere!atsumu, who will kiss you so lovingly on after the sixth date, and ask you to be his official girlfriend. he feels relieved when you say yes, relieved that he won't have to beat common sense into you and guilt trip you into accepting.

yandere!atsumu, who will later jack off just at of the first kiss, mind already spinning at the thought of what he could do to you now that you're dating him.

yandere!atsumu who treats you and touches you as if you're glass, always "looking out" for you. you think his grip on your wrist is adorable, that his protectiveness is "cute." but really, he's just making sure that you're not going to run off or something.

yandere!atsumu who takes your virginity, and is absolutely doting and attentive the whole time, kissing you softly and whispering small "i love you"s against your skin. you don't notice the way his grip on your waist is bruising as he thrusts his cock in you so deliciously it has you coming multiple times. you don't notice the way his eyes are almost dead, jaw clenching at the thought of "someone else" potentially touching you after this.

yandere!atsumu, after successfully getting you attached to him will begin to show his true colors. the dates you two planned in advance seemingly "forgotten" by the pro volleyball player, as he's apparently so "busy" that he completely missed the date.

yandere!atsumu, who was really "busy" fucking some other woman while you waited patiently for him, food cold and ice melted.

yandere!atsumu, who will put the blame on you when you finally confront him about all the dates he's stood you up on and the way he's been distant and almost brushing you off everytime you text him. he'll call you manipulative and controlling, he doesn't like yelling at you, but it seems you needed to have a bit of an attitude check that day.

yandere!atsumu, who will only "forgive you" when you're on your knees begging for his forgiveness and apologizing for being "manipulative" and "controlling". he'll kneel down to your level, his face is morphed into one of concern, but his dark eyes say otherwise. he'll "forgive" you for the mess you created before taking a cold shower to relieve himself.

yandere!atsumu, who will realize that you're much of a tougher cookie than he thought when you confronted him with evidence of him cheating.

yandere!atsumu, who will slap you so hard you're tumbling down the steps of the apartment, the pain hitting you way before you realized what had happened. he'll grab you by your hair, dragging you across the rough floor and back up the stabbing steps of the staircase and eventually into the bedroom.

yandere!atsumu, who will force you into the bed and hold you down with his entire weight, yelling obscenities at you and threaten to kill himself if you try this shit ever again. he'll then remove all of your clothes, praising you because you're too scared to fight back when he forces himself onto you.

yandere!atsumu, who will point out the fact that he isn't using a condom and that you aren't on birth control. he'll ignore your cries of disapproval and pleas while he comes inside of you, unprotected.

yandere!atsumu, who will smirk down at you while you sob into the pillow, abused cunt leaking his cum, knowing you won't leave him if you're carrying his baby. who will you even run away to anyways? not like you have anyone left.

please like and repost with tags :)

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bangtanflirt · 1 year

Text

Not Like Other Girls (Part 2 of 2)

mainly angst, with some smut and fluff sprinkled in

Best friend Jungkook x Fem Reader, Hoseok x Fem Reader

NSFW. 18+

Part 1 > Part 2 (FINAL) > BONUS Part

Premise: Jungkook’s been your best friend since forever, and he loves that you’re “not like other girls,” as he puts it...so what happens when you decide you want to be like other girls?

Warnings: sexism, manipulative friendship, Jungkook and some other idols are just overall misogynistic assholes in this (all a work of fiction obviously, no way meant to represent these idols’ real life personalities), mentions of past internalized misogyny, one noncon kiss, slight physical intimidation, a fight, one more asshole jk warning because he amps it up a notch

____

Two weeks go by, with you ignoring every call and text he sends. Two weeks of you blaring your headphones and walking right by when he waits outside your residence hall or classes. Two weeks since you’ve left the group chat with him and the other two. Eunwoo and Yugyeom message you individually, each saying something along the lines of “Why are you being such a bitch to Jungkook?” You block them eventually. It was easy to block them. Jungkook, on the other hand, has not been easy to block. You’ve tried, fingers hovering over the button many times since the last time you’ve talked. However, something stops you every time. Memories of the past flood your mind: the little spot in the playground that the two of you claimed in fourth grade, the way he’d stayed up all night helping you perfect your science fair project in middle school, how he walked you home after your org meetings in high school. Everything would be so much easier if your mind could just forget about all the good things, but you can’t. The truth—however pathetic it may be—is that Jungkook is in too much of your good memories for you to just cut him off.

Not matter how much of a big game you talk, he still has a hold on you. Which is why, after two weeks of trying to fake indifference, your resolve breaks at the sight of him. He’s waiting in front of your residence hall again, but this time those sad bambi eyes rope you into stopping. He looks a mess with his disheveled hair and puffy eyes. It takes a lot in you to not immediately lead him inside and take care of his tired form. No y/n. Don’t be a doormat again.

“Can we talk in your dorm?”

“We can talk here. I’ll give you five minutes.”

“I’m sorry.” His shoulders are sagging as he looks down at the grass, unable to meet your gaze. You don’t say anything back.

“I shouldn’t have hijacked your birthday plans…and I shouldn’t have yelled about Hoseok…it was wrong of me. It wasn’t from a bad place, I swear! I just want to protect you. That’s all I’ve ever wanted to do, y/n. I can’t not have you in my life.”

“Your way of protecting someone is really shitty.”

“I can see that now, and I promise you I’ll do better. Just don’t push me out of your life, please. I can’t handle it.” His voice cracks at the end, as if he’s too overwhelmed with emotion.

It breaks your heart and your walls all too easily, and you’re embracing him in a split second. He starts sobbing softly into your shoulder. “Come up for a while.” You invite, and the boy follows with his head down. It takes a moment for him to stop crying in your room, spilling apologies while holding you close.

___

The next day is, thankfully, filled with the normalcy you’re used to with Jungkook. You two meet up for breakfast, talking about the most random things as you usually do. It doesn’t feel like two weeks have passed. It doesn’t feel like anything bad happened between you at all. The air is light, and the conversations are filled with laughter, just like your favorite moments with him usually go.

“Are you free to study this evening? I have a calc test coming up and I need moral support.”

“I’m actually studying with a few people from the frat party. We’ve gotten kind of close—especially this girl, Ara. But you should come study with us!”

“With Hoseok too?”

“Yes Kook, he’s not some evil villain, I promise. You’ll like him if you give him a chance.”

You still haven’t told Jungkook you didn’t sleep with the older man. You don’t see the point in bringing it up anymore, since it shouldn’t determine whether or not Jungkook respects you. You just want to move on from the topic and the fight altogether. You also don’t tell him about your make-out sessions these past two weeks, not in the mood for another lecture.

His features visibly tense. “Oh, um…I don’t know. It might be too much of a distraction, and I don’t really know them. I’ll just study alone.” You know Jungkook enough to know what he’s asking without him saying it out loud: Please ditch them and study with me. The plea is clear in his eyes, but this time you act oblivious to it.

“Oh please, I saw you study for that physics final in high school! If you can focus on rotational motion while Yugyeom and Eunwoo argue about which Super Smash Bros character is the kinkiest, you can one thousand percent study with us.”

The two of you giggle at the past memory, and Jungkook eases up a little.

“Alright, I’ll join, and Bowser is definitely the kinkiest!”

“Not when Wario is right there!” You laugh, taking a sip from your best friend’s milkshake as he throws a ‘I told you to order your own’ look your way.

“Speaking of the guys…when do you think you’ll unblock them?”

“No time soon. You’re still on probation too.”

His face falls, but he doesn’t prod further.

---

“Guys, this is Jungkook, my best friend. Jungkook, this is Ara, Namjoon, Hoseok, and Jisoo. I met Ara at the makeup convention and everyone else at the Beta Tau Sigma party after.”

You miss the icy glare he shoots at Hoseok. Hoseok seems to miss it too, being his usual friendly self while greeting the other man. Everyone greets Jungkook warmly except Jisoo, who seems a bit wary. She remembers when you ran to some guy and came back crying a couple weeks ago, and how that man looked a lot like this Jungkook guy. Suffice to say, she’s not as enthusiastic to meet him.

The study session goes by alright. Everyone’s stressed and engrossed in their work, but occasional banter and breaks keep you all going. You try to include Jungkook whenever you can, and your new friends—sans Jisoo—also try to strike up conversation with him. Jungkook, however, keeps his replies short and chooses to stay silent for the most part.

It’s only when he’s walking you home does he begin talking like his usual self.

“See? That wasn’t so bad, was it?”

He shrugs, “I didn’t have much in common with them. I think we should just study alone next time.”

You raise a brow, “That’s not fair, Kook. You barely tried. We were doing our best to include you in the conversation.”

Jungkook doesn’t exactly know why he feels so strongly, but hearing you use the term ‘we’ for you and your new friends puts him on edge. You and him are supposed to be a ‘we.’ These are strangers.

His tone gets snappier at your comment.

“Wow, thank you so much for trying to include me in the conversation y/n. Must be exhausting having to talk to me when your new friends are there.”

“Hypocritical coming from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“It means you basically treat me like I’m invisible when we’re with Eunwoo and Yugyeom.”

The rest of the walk is silent.

Hours later, when you’re about to go to bed, you get a text from him.

Kook: Sorry :( are you still mad?

You let out a sigh. He’s your best friend, but you wish he wasn’t so frustrating sometimes.

You: Kind of.

Kook: I’ll hang out with them again if you want me to.

You: Will you actually try to get along?

Kook: Yeah, I promise!!!

___

The next time you invite Jungkook out with everyone else is at another frat party. You don’t remember the name of the frat, but it doesn’t matter. There’s good music, godlike seven-layer dip, and an impressive variety of alcohol. You tease Hoseok at how Beta Tau Sigma needs to watch out or their ‘best party frat’ rep is in danger.

“No chance, wait ‘till you see the bouncy castle we’re getting for the next one!”

Jungkook’s jaw ticks at the way you lean close to the other man, laughing and talking as if the two of you are in your own world. It’s extra irritating considering your outfit for the night. You’d mentioned how you were borrowing one of Ara’s dresses, but he had no idea it would be such a tight one. Tight and short, with entirely too much of your chest exposed. It makes your birthday dress seem modest in comparison. He regrets meeting at the party instead of picking you up, wishing he could’ve talked you out of it before you left your dorm.

But he can’t do anything now, except watch Hoseok ogle you as you giggle and bat your lashes at him. It hasn’t even been twenty minutes yet, but Jungkook already wants to leave—and drag you out of there with him.

It’s after a few tequila shots and party games when Ara pulls you aside, asking you how things are going with Hoseok.

“We’re just friends!”

“Friends don’t look at each other like that.”

“Okay, we might be hitting each other up to make out now and then…and maybe I have a teeny tiny crush. But it’s not like it’ll go anywhere.”

“Why not?”

“Because he’s a total fuckboy!”

“Oh please,” she rolls her eyes, “those rumors are so out of proportion. I know Hoseok and I know he loves sex, but he’s not the ‘I don’t do commitment’ type. He just needs to meet someone he vibes with and he’ll turn into a mushy romantic in a heartbeat.”

“How can you be so sure?”

She breaks out into a giant grin, “Because he’s just like Joonie.”

You can’t help but grin too, tipsy Ara is especially cute when talking about her boyfriend.

“Fair, fair. Maybe I’ll give it a shot.”

“You think the two of you will break away from the rest of us again?” She wiggles her eyebrows.

“Not tonight. Jungkook doesn’t really know anyone here, so it would be pretty shitty to leave him.”

“Yeah he does look like a lost lamb” she motions in the boy’s direction, where his body language couldn’t get any more awkward.

“That’s my cue” you say after taking one more shot and making your way back to Jungkook’s side.

“Here” you say, holding a shot in front of his face. He downs it instantly.

“How ‘bout a dance?” You hope a little dancing can loosen the boy up.

The speakers blast High Hopes by Panic! at the Disco, and you two yell the lyrics while jumping up and down in proper party-dancing fashion. Jungkook gets more comfortable as the song progresses, and you can tell the alcohol is getting to him. The next hour is genuinely fun for both of you, and he seems less apprehensive when the others join—as long as your attention stays on him. The problem starts when a slower, sexier song starts playing, and Hoseok pulls you close. The man wraps his hands around you from behind, sensually rolling his body and guiding you to do the same. Your eyes are closed and you’re too lost in the moment to feel the daggers your best friend is shooting with his eyes.

You excuse yourself for a moment, stumbling into a random bedroom until you can find a restroom to pee. What you don’t expect when coming out, is Jungkook sitting on the bed. He stands up when you come out, making his way closer.

“Oh hey, were you looking for me?”

He nods, now less than an inch away. You take a step back, feeling claustrophobic, but he’s keen on closing the gap.

“Kook, what are you—"

That’s when his lips come crashing down on yours.

It’s barely three seconds until you register what’s going on and push him off. You look into his eyes with pure shock.

“Holy fuck, Jungkook. You’re drunk, aren’t you?”

“Maybe…” he leans back in, but you turn your head away. He’s not a fan of this.

“Why are you dodging?”

“Because you’re not in your right mind! I’m your best friend!”

“And? Isn’t this what you what? Isn’t it better to get it from me than some guy you hardly know?”

“Excuse me? What do you mean by ‘what I want’?” You step back again, bringing a hand to his chest to keep him arm’s distance.

“Don’t act innocent y/n. That dress…the way you’ve been dancing…you’re telling everyone you want to be fucked tonight.”

You push him back, rage coursing through your veins, “I am not fucking you, Jungkook!”

He seems just as angry, almost falling back. “So you’ll fuck Hoseok, but draw the line at me?”

“What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

“What’s wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you?! I’m trying so hard to be nice and understanding, but you’ve been acting like a whore the entire night. You want me to treat you like a whore, don’t you? That’s why you’ve been trying to make me jealous…get me all worked up so I can fuck you good.”

You fervently shake your head no, still processing the absurd things you’re hearing.

“You’re just drunk…that’s why you’re saying all these things. You don’t mean any of this, right? Why would you be jealous…you don’t think of me like that.”

“I don’t think of you like that when you’re being the usual you. But this new persona you’re trying on…you can’t expect me to not be curious when you’re showing off like this. I’m a guy, y/n.”

“No, get away from me! You don’t get to use the ‘it’s a guy thing’ excuse this time. It’s not because you’re a guy. It’s because you’re a complete asshole!”

You try to walk away but he grips your arm, unwilling to let go despite your visible distress.

“Let go!”

“Don’t leave me, please, you can’t leave”

Your distress grows as you try harder to shake off his hold, and you’ve never been more relieved to hear the sound of a door opening than in that moment.

“Y/n, are you in here—” Hoseok stills at the scene, Jungkook’s digging his fingers into the skin of your arm as mascara-black tears roll down onto your cheeks.

“Oh great” Jungkook lets out a dry chuckle, “he’s been looking for you, how sweet.”

Hoseok wastes no time coming between the two of you, prying Jungkook’s hand away and putting his body in front of yours in a protective stance.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but you need to stay away from her dude.”

The tension in the air is thick, too thick for even a blade to slice through. The way the men stare each other down has you squirming in anxiety.

“This isn’t your business.” Jungkook bites.

“I think it is.”

“Why? You feel obligated because she’s one of your sluts no—” his sentence is interrupted by a sharp right hook to the face. Jungkook falls flat on his ass, holding the hurt cheek in pain.

“Because she’s my friend you fuckface, and I thought she was supposed to be yours too.”

That’s the last thing Jungkook hears before the world becomes pitch black.

___

You don’t give in after two weeks this time. A month goes by, then another month, then another…and now you’re getting used to not having him in your life at all. It’s easier because, this time, he doesn’t try to call or linger around with those dumb doe eyes. He knows he crossed an unforgivable line and facing you now would have him breaking down in shame.

That night, once he came back to his senses and the world stopped spinning, he couldn’t believe what he’d done. His bubbling jealousy towards Hoseok, the fear of you drifting away, and the unhealthy amount of tequila shots all mixed together to make him do the most asshole thing he could. And now he’s lost you, for good. The days since then have been nothing short of hell, guilt eating away at his soul every moment he’s awake. That’s why he sleeps longer now, sometimes well into the evening—missing a lot of classes along the way. His grades keep plummeting but he can’t seem to care anymore. If you were there, you’d get so mad at him for slacking off; but you’re not there. It’s a month after the incident when Yugyeom drops by, worried because neither him nor Eunwoo get any messages back from him anymore.

“Dude, you look like shit. Will you finally spill on what exactly happened with y/n?”

“I fucked up, big time.”

Yugyeom stays silent as Jungkook spills out everything that happened that night, listening with worry etched on his face.

“Oh shit.”

“I know.”

“You went too far man.”

“I know.”

“I get you’re going through it, but don’t shut us out dude. Eunwoo and I are there for you, okay?”

It’s not long until Eunwoo hears about what happened, calling the day after Yugyeom leaves. His version of consoling is different.

“It’s not entirely your fault. You know that, don’t you? You went overboard because of the alcohol, sure, but your reasons were valid. She should’ve known what she got herself into when she decided that being a bimbo is more important than being our friend.”

Jungkook doesn’t know how much he agrees with that, but he does know that thinking of it that way makes him feel a little less shitty.

___

You don’t tell any of the others what happened, hell, you don’t even tell Hoseok the whole story. You can’t bring yourself to recount the incident without nausea overtaking your body. Thankfully, Hoseok doesn’t pry. He’s the one to walk you home that night, telling the rest you had a headache and need to leave early. He keeps quiet the entire walk.

He drops by your place a lot now, checking in on you. The first month is the hardest, you don’t want to even get out of bed. Thankfully, Hoseok is there to make sure you don’t waste away under your blanket (and that you’re turning in assignments on time). The rest of them can tell you’re different after the party, but you dodge their concerns every time. They still invite you places, even though you seem zoned out when you’re there. Ara, in particular, makes sure to come by with meals every now and again to ensure you’re eating okay.

It's the second month when you start feeling like yourself again. The zoning out and wallowing in pity is replaced with laughter and joy once more; no doubt thanks to your friends’ persistence. A realization hits you during this time: you’re truly free now. Free to explore what type of clothes you like best, wear the most dramatic makeup you want, and invest time in hobbies that make you happy. You’re free to do all of that without a cloud of judgement and insecurity looming over. And so you use this newfound freedom to your fullest advantage, raiding the dress and makeup aisles at the mall—with Ara, Jennie, and Jisoo by your side.

It's the third month when Eun-bi and Sol fly down to visit you, squealing at your new look.

“I cannot believe that you, Y/N Y/L/N, own this many skirts” Sol comments, going through your closet.

You giggle, “You like them better than the sweatpants I wore when I visited, don’t you?”

“It’s not the sweatpants we minded, more the ‘look at these whores’ look you would give us when we wore skirts.” Sol laughs back.

You cringe at the memory, glad it’s in the past now.

___

It’s another usual weekend with Hoseok’s hands in your hair and his mouth on yours, while some Netflix comedy special plays in the background. He pulls away earlier than you’d like him to, though.

“What do you think about going on a date?”

“A date?”

“Yeah…if you want to be more than friends who make out.”

You’re confused and it shows.

“Didn’t you sleep with that art major like two days ago?”

He lets out an embarrassed chuckle, “I’m just getting tired of the hookups. Been getting jealous of Namjoon a lot recently—of what he has with Ara.”

“I thought you said Namjoon became ten times more annoying after getting into a relationship?”

“Oh definitely—but he also looks a hundred times happier. If I have a shot at that with anyone, I think it’s you.”

You can’t help but fawn over the endearing look on his face, eyes brimming with sincerity. It’s by no means a grand romantic confession of love, but it doesn’t need to be. You can tell he’s serious, and that’s all you really need.

“I’d love to Hoseok.”

His heart-shaped smile widens to a toothy grin. He pulls you in for another kiss.

___

The next time Jungkook spots you, you don’t notice him. He’s on his way to the library and you’re on the lawn with all your friends. You’re wearing a flowy sundress and your hair is longer; you’re having the time of your life, with no regard for his presence. Hoseok’s by your side, and it seems he’s the cause of your never-ending laughter. Jungkook knows you’re with him—he’s the heard the gossip all over campus. Gossip is the only way he can keep up with you after being blocked on everything.

Bitterness boils inside of him at the sight: how easily you can be happy without him.

He thought he meant more, thought he was irreplaceable, just like you were to him. He knows he messed up that night, but part of him was still betting you’d come back. He was waiting for you to come back after Hoseok left you broken, and had planned all the words he’d say to assure you he could put you back together again. But it’s been four months since you and Hoseok became official, and you two look happier than fucking ever. He hates it.

But even so, he has hope. Hoseok is still Hoseok, and this happy ever after shit can’t last. He’ll wait for you.

___

Four months turns into a year, and a year turns into two, then three, until you’re walking down the graduation stage while your boyfriend cheers from the audience.

When the ceremony is over, you make your way to your friends, who are all rejoicing at the ending of a chapter.

“We did it bitches!” Ara exclaims, pulling everyone in for a hug.

“Couldn’t have done it without you” you refuse to let her leave your embrace. Your best friend only hugs you tighter, two of you now looking like boa constrictors in competition.

“Alright, alright, enough of Ara hogging. I want my hug” Namjoon pouts, pulling her away from you.

“We get it loverboy, you’re whipped” you punctuate with an eye roll.

He’s not one to let you have the last word, though. “If anyone’s a loverboy here it’s Hobi, mind you. He’s brought up the fact that you’re graduating with honors at least five times in the span of three hours.”

“That’s because everyone needs to know how impressive my girlfriend is!” Hoseok jumps in, chest puffed out with pride.

You laugh, playfully swatting your boyfriend’s arm.

“Ouch! What was that for?”

“You know compliments make me embarrassed!”

“So am I just not supposed to compliment my insanely smart, incredibly driven, badass girlfriend who graduated with honors?”

“Make that six times in three hours” Namjoon lightheartedly chides.

It’s in that moment you bump into someone, not unusual in the buzzing crowd of graduates. But this time it’s not a stranger—or at least not in the technical sense of the word.

“Oh I’m so sorr—”

He stills. He doesn’t think he can keep speaking even if he wants to, feeling the heat of Hoseok’s gaze.

“It’s fine, don’t worry about it.” That’s all you say, in the most nonchalant way possible, before turning around and resuming your conversation.

It’s like you never even knew him.

____

A/N: Another fic completed woohoo! Your comments and reblogs mean the world to me. All the interactions are such nice energy boosts to keep writing. Have a wonderful day lovely readers <3

Tag list: @namjooncrabs @starbtslove @gaby-93 @laurynne5

#jungkook x reader #hoseok x reader #bts angst #bts fluff #bts x reader #hopekook

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jazminrhode1 · 10 months

Text

A Tour Surprise Sturniolo Triplets x Reader One Shot

Summary: You're best friends with the triplets and you've flown across the country to surprise them on tour.

Notes: N/a

You and MaryLou had been texting to make sure that you can sneak into the venue without them or any of the fans noticing. As you pull up to the venue you can see a line of their biggest supporters circling around the block.

A guy dressed in black with a 'SECURITY' badge meets you at the back door and lets you in through the back entrance. "I'm in," you text MaryLou as you follow the security through a sketchy hallway.

You could hear music in the distance and the sound of excited chattering through the walls and your stomach turned as you held onto the hope that your visit would remain a surprise.

As the security guard opened a door near the end of the hallway, you saw MaryLou appear seemingly out of nowhere and pull you into a hug.

"They have no idea," she said, excitedly, "I can't wait another second".

She placed a lanyard around your neck with a card that said "TALENT- Backstage Access", took you by the hand, and led you toward the curtains on the other side of the room. You heard the chatter get louder and louder and as she pulled back the curtains you saw a long line of fans circling the room behind metal barricades that were keeping everyone safe.

You scanned the room and there they were. Chris was in the far corner with his back toward you, talking to a girl with a grin from ear to ear. Nick was at a table in the center of the room taking selfies with two friends that were wearing your favorite Fresh Love hoodie. Matt was talking to a girl and her Dad less than 10 feet away from you and you felt your heart begin to race.

MaryLou pulled you behind a bollard in the venue and signaled to the security on the other side of the room. He stood up on a chair and took a microphone in his hand, "Alright everyone we're going to take a 10-minute break if everyone could please remain exactly where you are, we have a surprise for the guys."

You could only imagine the confusion on their faces as MaryLou giggled in excitement and gestured for you to walk out.

When you did the fans standing in line saw you before the boys did. Some shrieked, others pointed, and a few slapped their hands over their mouths in disbelief.

"Y/n!" Matt screamed as he collided with you and pulled you into a hug.

Nick apologized to the girls he was standing with as he rushed over and swung his arms around you both. "What the fuck? How are you here?", he asked.

You peered over their shoulders and saw Chris across the room, his mouth hanging open in disbelief. He made his way toward you, his eyes fixed on you, slowly shaking his head.

"Get off. Get off!" he demanded and Matt and Nick pulled away. He grabbed your hand and pulled you into a hug. It felt like his whole body wrapped around you.

You could hear MaryLou giggling behind you. "I told you I had a surprise", she said.

"How were we ever supposed to guess this?" Nick demanded.

"I hope it's OK I'm here", you say. Only just now did you realize that they might not have wanted you here? They may have just wanted to focus on the work.

Chris squeezed you tighter, there was no sign that he would be letting go anytime soon. "We wish you were here all the time", he said reassuringly.

You all share in the excitement until the 10 minutes were up and the boys finally went back.

MaryLou pulled up two chairs for you both to sit at and wait until they were finished. She rubbed your back and whispered, "They needed this".

You couldn't hide your smile no matter how hard you tried. You were thankful to hear that they were happy to have you here because you felt the exact same way. You needed this too.

As proud as you were that they were following their dreams, you missed them so much when they were away and FaceTime just didn't cut it.

As you watched them meet fans and put smiles on so many faces, you couldn't help but think that if anything was going to take them away from home, from you, you were glad that it was this.

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toppersjeep · 7 months

Text

[Chapter 2] Pieces- George Russell X Charles Leclerc

Masterlist

Livs POV

“Where’s George” Dad asked. “He must be late” I said. “He didn’t show up with you” Dad asked. “No he was mad after the race” I said. “I just wanted him here you know” Dad said. “I called him he didn’t answer” I said. “Well he and I can discuss the contract” Dad said. I then got a text from Charles.

___

Charles: I saw George with some woman Olivia. He left with her at the paddock Liv…

Me: I’m not surprised anymore but he knew about this dinner and how important it is.

Charles: I don’t know why you keep putting up with this. And don’t say because he deserves his seat. He doesn’t

Me: Char…

Charles: don’t pretend that this isn’t hurting you I can tell it is. I know you forget that I do. I’m not gonna let him do this.

___

“Was it George” Lewis said. “Uhh no just Charles apologizing” I said. “Well that’s good on him” Dad said. “I think I’m gonna head out” I said. “Alright see you tomorrow” Lewis said. I left and went back to the hotel. I was about to walk to my room when someone grabbed me.

“Jesus Charles” I said. “Do you not listen he’s there with her” Charles said. “You saw them” I said. “Yes I did” Charles said. “What am I gonna do” I said. I then heard the door open. I saw her walk out. “So I’ll see you again tomorrow” George said.

“That’s it” Charles said. I tried to grab his hand. But he was already by George. “Charles” George said. “Are you fucking stupid mate” George said. “Stop” I said. “No Olivia he’s cheating on you and he’s not getting away with it” Charles said.

“Oh so that’s where you slept the other night” George said. “This isn’t about that” I said. “You know I tried to give you the benefit of the doubt” Charles said. “Because she’s my best friend and she loves you but not anymore” Charles said.

“Oh I think I see what this is the sneaky conversations” George said. “The staying at his place and defending him today” George said. “You see what” I said. “Your sleeping with Charles it makes so much sense” George said.

“Oh go fuck yourself” I said shoving George. “Please you wonder why I still do it” George said. “Your a prick” Charles said. “Please all you want is to get in her pants.. she doesn’t want you Charles” George said. I smacked George. “Okay.. enough” Carmen said shoving me.

“Don’t even start with me you little bitch” I said Charles pulled me away from her. George then threw my suitcase and bag out of the room. “Since you want him so much go” George said. “Fucking dickhead” I said pushing George. “Get away from me” George said pushing me but I tripped on something and fell.

“Are you mad or something” Charles said shoving George into a wall. Then doors opened. “Is everything okay” Lando said. “Yeah it’s fine” George said Charles let go of his shirt. “It’s fine” Charles said. George went back into his room.

“Are you okay” Charles said. “Fuck off” I said pushing his hand away. “Stop” Charles said bending down. “I.. hate him I just” I said breaking down crying. He then hugged me. “Olivia I’ll help you” Lando said grabbing my bag.

“She can stay in my room” Adelia said walking by. “Yeah that’s fine” I said. “But I thought we were cuddling” Daniel said walking out of adelias room. “It’s fine I can just get my own room” I said. “No no stay with me” Charles said.

I just agreed and stayed in Charles room with him. It was silent for a while.

“I’m sorry” I said. “This isn’t your fault” Charles said. “I think I’m gonna shower so” I said grabbing my clothes. “Yeah go ahead” Charles said. I went in the bathroom. I then got in the shower and sat on the floor of the tub.

Maybe Charles had a point. I didn’t deserve this. Finally all those months of lying hit me. And I just started crying. But I didn’t want Charles to hear me.

But he must’ve. I heard a soft knock on the door.

“I know you don’t wanna hear it from me but.. I’m really sorry” Charles said. “You didn’t deserve to be treated the way that he treated you” Charles said. “And I know that one day you’ll get the love you deserve” Charles said. After the shower I got out. I then laid in bed. Charles had put up some sort of wall between us. With pillows. He was already in bed. I shut the lights off and laid in bed. I then covered myself up.

But nobody was expecting what would happen in the morning.

Twitter had blown up overnight. With an anonymous dm to a drama account. And now everyone was wondering what was going on.

And I woke up to a million calls. But I didn’t wanna deal with it. So I just kept my head down and went to the race with Charles. Doing my best to avoid the media.

“Liv is it true George cheated” some guy asked. “Will you leave her alone” Charles said. He then walked me to the Mercedes paddock. I went up to my dads office. Since he texted me to meet him there.

He then came in and shut the door.

“Olivia please tell me that it’s not true” Toto said. “Do you want the truth or do you want me to lie” I said. “I want you to tell me the truth” Toto said. “He’s been cheating on me for a long time” I said he sighed and sat next to me.

“Why didn’t you tell someone” Toto said. “Charles knows” I said. “Is that why he defended you” Toto said. “Yes and I know it was stupid” I said. “Well then I’m done with this kid” Toto said. “Dad I can’t let you do that” I said. “It’s already done he signed it” he said.

“What” I said. “He came in this morning and said that he was done” Toto said. “But he won’t have a seat” I said. “Willams took him back” Toto said. “But I feel like this is my fault” I said.

“No he had this coming don’t blame yourself” Toto said. “But” I said. “No buts he’s done okay” Toto said. “Thank you” I said he hugged me. “Now I need to find a driver for next year” Toto said. “Dad..” I said. “Yes” Toto said.

“I have a person in mind” I said. “I’m listening” Toto said.

….

I went back into the Mercedes garage. Lewis was there with Roscoe.

“I heard you were down so I brought Ros” Lewis said u smiled. “Oh my little Roscoe” I said petting him. “He missed you” Lewis said. “Oh look how handsome” I said as he sat in my lap. “So I heard and ummm he’s a jerk” Lewis said.

“Yeah he’s something but I don’t wanna get into it” I said. “I understand but I’m here if you need someone or wanna get drunk” Lewis said I laughed. “I’ll take you up on the second one” I said.

“We can do that” Lewis said. “Olivia can I” George said. “No you can’t we are done” I said. “But I just” George said. “She said no” Lewis said. “What’s everyone here in love with you” George said. “Are you drunk” Lewis said.

“So what if I am.. mate she got what she wanted” George said. “Get him out of here” Lewis said. “I hope you are happy Liv I really do” George said. Someone the took him out of the paddock. “He’s gonna ruin his whole career” Lewis said.

“That’s his own problem” I said. “Liv can I speak to you” Charles said. “I’ll let you guys talk” Lewis said walking away. Roscoe then followed him. “Bye Ros” I said. Charles then sat down next to me.

“What’s up” I said. “How are you”Charles said. “Wishing people would stop asking me how I am” I said. “So.. I was thinking you can come watch the race at Ferrari” Charles said. “Of course I’d support my best friend” I said.

“Good umm… here” Charles said handing me a Ferrari cap. “But what if Carlos is my favorite driver” I said. “Doubtful” Charles said. “You aren’t giving your girlfriend your pass” I said. “I don’t have a girlfriend.. and the only girl I want there is you” Charles said.

“Oh well then I feel special” I said. “You are” Charles said I put the hat on. “How does it look” I said. “Like it suits you” Charles said I smiled.

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universallydestinytaco · 5 days

Text

Drowning My Sorrows (ONE-SHOT)

I felt like making a vent-y hurt/comfort one shot where after Charlie, Alan and Glep get into a fight, Pim fails to resolve it and sends strange texts over the group chat that have the gang scrambling to get there. Ends with an happy ending, I promise.

TW: PTSD, P*nic Att**k, Mentions of Ab*se + Victim Bl*m*ng, The Ab*se of Alcohol as an Unhealthy Coping Mechanism and an all-to relatable nightmare sequence. Read at your own risk.

The sun began to set for the day as Pim came inside his house after work as he usually did, turning on the lights and evoking a warm, cozy vibe for he was trying to feel for a sense of comfort, but he felt so drained after that bungled attempt to peacefully resolve that nasty argument between his co-workers ended on a sour, defeated note. He tried to take his mind off of it with a curling up on the couch with a blanket, a cup of warm tea and turning on one of his favorite shows with the little boy and his pastel-colored alien family…but on nights like this, it failed to break him of his shakes balms and his beating heart which was getting worse and worse as he ignored it.

“What do you know about it, squirt?! Keep your goddamn nose-er, whatever you have between your eyes out of it!”

The memory of the irritated Charlie telling Pim to back off reminded him of another memory that plagued him for years, when he finally forgot about it and began to heal it seemed to finally come back to haunt him after all this time. Whenever his mom would hear he got into yet another “fight” with another family member, he would be punished even if he did nothing of note to make them angry in the first place. Whether it be a long lecture that could be boiled down to “It’s your fault for being unhappy.” or among those lines, she would cherry pick anything to somehow make the connection that it was Pim’s fault and he deserved it all while hammering it over his head that it was immature to not be positive over even the worst things that happened to him. Did he really deserve all of that to happen to him merely for telling any of them to leave him alone when they started it? Pim tried to think of happy memories he had with his friends, taking yet another note from his mom…but always came back to what happened before he left work…..

Pim couldn’t take it anymore, he needed something to soothe the pain by making him forget. Pim promised himself he wouldn’t do it again, over and over, but the feeling of spacing out with alcohol was (even if temporary) a wash over of relief, simply forgetting about everything bothering him even if it would leave him throwing up with a hangover the next day. No wonder his mom loved her wine so much.

….

Charlie was playing Rust on his PC, accompanied by a bag of chips and his second ice-cold can of Monster, tuning reality out best he could in his crappy studio apartment…his flow got disrupted after he started hearing his phone blow up he tried to ignore it, but knowing the exact extent of his friends’ irreverence it had to be the funniest obscure meme from 2005 or something. He picked up the phone and opened up the group chat to be greeted to a wall of texts, where he started reading the first two initially figuring it was just going to be Pim apologizing for butting in him that verbal smackdown he and his other two coworkers had….the rest of the text, on the other hand, started to startle the yellow critter as it progressively got more personal. The last text was sent as he was reading the rest, and when Charlie read the last one, it sent him in a panic. He started spamming the chat begging Pim to respond, apologizing for his behavior earlier but despite Pim being marked as active, none of the texts that Charlie had been desperately beaming out from his fingertips were marked as read…after waiting five minutes or so, Charlie who was anxious with sweat finally received a message, but it wasn’t the one he was expecting.

Alan: The hell are y’all in the chat doing waking me up at this hour for? >:(

Charlie’s hopes of reaching out to his best friend were dramatically dashed, as tears pricked in his eyes. Charlie wasn’t the touchy-feely-type of guy, as he hid his emotions like a “true” alpha male but in this particular case, how could he not? He really screwed up this time, leaving Alan and Glep furious at him and Pim….he really shouldn’t have lashed out at the sensitive little guy. Sure he butt-in while he was trying to make a point but at least he was trying to peacefully bring him back to earth. Charlie felt the tense vibration of anxiety in his palm when texting Alan, typos and all.

Charlie: Sc r ol hp noq scroll yup noq shit scroll up now Alan: FUCK Glep: (=3=) zzzz (>0<) !! ???? Alan: EVERYONE MEET ME AT PIM’S HOUSE ON THE DOUBLE.

Charlie shoved his phone in his pocket, trying to hold back tears as he ran out of his apartment and zoomed out the door as he almost felt as if his world was crashing down right in front of him. Pim was the first true friend he ever had, if it weren’t for him he wouldn’t have gotten out of unemployment and while he never showed it all that much, he was deeply touched by all the thoughtful little messages Pim would leave for Charlie on a daily basis letting him know he was loved. He could have spent all that time an energy keeping up his stoic image to return the favor, then again he always had trouble communicating with meaningful words to those he cared about.

….

Sometime after his erratic breakdown, Pim blacked out. Everything prior was a blur to him, not that his memory was all that clear to begin with. His eyes were shut, but he could visualize how he felt: tied up in vines of roses and dangling upside down as the thorns pierced his skin and the blooms snickered, laughing and repeating in echoey siren calls reciting all the worst memories he had and the more he struggled while swinging to-and-fro, the thorns dug deeper and the siren calls spewing from the blooms got more colorful. Pim was in absolute agony, but as he would come to think of it, it’s always been this way. Even when he left that wretched household, he still couldn’t escape. The siren calls turned into his mother’s voice, chiding him for being so “immature” as to let all the negativity get to him, and why Amy or his brother Damien where far more grown up for repressing all their issues and not pushing them on anyone else and that Pim was just the spoiled baby of the family who had it easier than everyone else and was the last to be upset about anything. Pim felt his shattered heart pierce through his chest like broken glass and dripping all over the place. No matter how hard he tried with every trick in the book he could think of, he couldn’t stop feeling this way…his family was right, he wasn’t a normal functioning person, therefor he was a problem for everyone else. Who would want a mistake like him around anyway? If his own family saw him as lesser why would anybody give him the time of day?

….

Pim was in that weird stage between being awake and asleep, his eyes were closed while vaguely hearing all-too familiar voices whispering. For some reason he felt cold and damp, shivering on the floor…just what on earth did he get himself into this time? Once he opened his eyes he found himself wrapped up in a familiar red hoodie like a blanket, he found himself surrounded by unexpected company. Not only were two of his co-workers and a Mr. Boss where there and displaying worried looks, Pim looked up and witnessed the most emotional guest of all…he never saw Charlie this devastated before, tears flooded his eyes like a faucet as his stoic “alpha male” facade crumbled before his very eyes. Then Pim suddenly remembered everything that lead to this and once again Guilt, being the legendarily confrontational bitch it’s been long-fabled as, struck him in the heart with her shiny golden dagger. He was scared to say a word, knowing from experience he would be harshly scolded for acting out like that, but considering the people here where showing more genuine care for him, he knew they’d at least understand.

“…I’m incredibly sorry, I was being very selfish upsetting you all like that, you all deserve better and I won’t ever scare you like that again.” Pim sheepishly spat out while starting to cry…. just then all four of the guests immediately burst into tears with Charlie’s being the loudest and most pained in the room as the other four all rushed towards him in support for a rare group hug. Pim and Charlie cried themselves to sleep as the other three stayed at the formers’ place all night to comfort him. ….

That morning while Charlie and Pim where still asleep on the couch, the bigger critter still cradling the smaller, Alan whipped up an hearty breakfast variant of his iconic grilled cheese sandwiches as Mr. Boss was making cowboy coffee all while Glep was helping in-between. The two were awaken by the delicious aroma permeating the house. Everyone sat down in the living room to enjoy breakfast as more cheerful conversations recalling humorous past events lit up the room like a candle to a lamp, Pim wriggled out of Charlie’s hoodie feeling like a butterfly releasing from it’s isolating chrysalis to feast upon the meal of which was lovingly cooked up and served. “Feeling better?” asked Mr. Boss in a warm, Grandfatherly tone. It wasn’t like how his mother used to ask that same question, since it was less-so making Pim “back to normal” so that her mood wouldn’t be soured but rather out of genuine care and concern. For once Pim was aware how loved he was, and while it was normal for people to fight and have misunderstandings, unlike certain people Pim was aware he and his merry group where actually committed to listening to each other.

“I never felt better.”

#smiling friends #angst #hurt/comfort #fanfic #pim pimling #charlie dompler #alan red #glep #mr boss #smiling friends pim #smiling friends charlie #smiling friends alan #smiling friends glep #smiling friends mr. boss #adult swim

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pinkrifle · 1 year

Note

Hello!! It's me again, I love thinking about what it's like to be a big sibling to the boys, so.. What do you think it would be like to be Stan and Shelly's big sibling? Like being a comfort person to both of them, being able to calm Shelly down when she needs it.. I love thinking about that...🫠

- 🩷🩷

— being stan/shelly’s big sibling!!

cws/tw’s: none?

a/n: I LOVE STAN AND SHELLY THIS ASK IS SO REAL THANK UU !! i feel like i’m the ceo of big sibling hc’s for south park 😙🔥.. (which i have no problem being 🤞) and i do have a little bit of writers block so excuse the duration of time i’m posting these at :( thanks for your patience!

misc. notes: reader is g/n, writing is in hc’s since non specified,,, kevlly will be in purple text, and uhh thassit:3

your probably randy and sharon’s last fave, hence being the oldest. which kinda drives you crazy but it makes shelly feel a little bit better about herself!!

if wendy ever breaks up with stan (for the 500th time) you always welcome him into ur room to sob and have multiple amounts of ice cream 🤭 if shelly makes fun of him for crying you give her that 😐 look and she backs off.

when stan get’s the spooky fish and dead ppl start appearing in his room you are the first to help him and hug/cuddle him when needed 💔 your also the first to dig into aunt flo’s purse and find the adress of the pet store.

you love when kyle and kenny come over!!! not much cartman,,, you make all sorts of activities to do when kyle and kenny come over and you make it a little less fun when eric comes 😙… stan does get embarrassed your hanging out with his friends and he tells you to shoo

you do worry for stan when he hangs out with cartman incase cartman gets him or manipulates him into something terrible.

during shelly’s outbursts you always take her in maybe like the bathroom or her room just to calm her down and let her cry on your shoulder or yell at you, just wanting the best for your little sister <3

you do also treat her to ice cream since her braces do tend to hurt when she yells alot and you clean the spit off of her chest/shirt

when u and shelly were kids you wanted a pet pony so bad….. and when stan was born you guys tricked him into begging randy and sharon for a pony, your parents didn’t think it was that funny as you guys did 🤭

definitely give stan a bunch of advice on girls, boys, etc, if randy ever starts genuinely being a bad parent to you guys you’ll always spend as much time as you can with your little siblings.

if you guys ever were to get allowance you would divide yours amongst all 3 of you just to give them some extra, they are forever grateful (stan is jumping all over the place)

whenever shelly or stan get in trouble you always sneak up to them and try to talk to them if their upset, and you try to distract sharon/trick her into getting them out of trouble. you always keep them out of trouble anyways

when you babysit them it’s A RIOT, shelly screaming at stan, stan screaming at shelly, you end up just yelling at the both of them to stfu and sit down 😕 and that one time where shelly throws cartman against the wall while she’s babysitting him, you help him up (and slightly giggle,,,)

helping at tegridy farms when your siblings don’t wanna/can’t do it anymore, your still the least favorite child but with some dignity lol. (u definitely have tried some weed before and shelly n stan have smelled it on u, giving you a wtf look 😭)

always teasing them because your in higher grades than them, but u always help with their homework since you should already know it !!

if you and stan get into a fight he’s always the one apologizing (still upset but like, how upset could this guy be if u bring him dr pepper) and embarrassed the next morning. you forget about the fight and he takes a sigh of relief.

if you and shelly get into a fight, your always the first apologizing because she’s so damn stubborn. she tells you “whatever, it’s fine” and sends you out of her room, definitely acts like you didn’t even talk the next morning and gets all buddy buddy with you

whenever they wanna hang out with their friends, sharon tells you to walk/drive/watch them, it irritates all 3 of you because you just wanna relax, stan wants some alone time with his buddies (and not to get ripped on) and shelly thinks that she’s 13 so she’s old enough to be out by herself >:(

for my kevlly ppl (cuz i know i am <3) , when shelly brings kevin over your on cloud 9!! how could your sister, a meanie poo bag such an amazing guy? regardless, your happy for her and always bug the two of them, much to their dismay.

always “accidentally” walking into their room before a private moment and getting so happy when shelly tells everyone she and kevin had their first kiss 😙

you make them matching bracelets and they “hate it” (THEY DONT. ABSOLUTELY KEEP MAKING MATCHING STUFF FOR THEM 🤭🤭🤭)

a/n: I HAD SM FUN WRITING THIS WOOHOO!!! i thought i would be slacking off but no i think this is a pretty decent length!! :) i hope you enjoyed this and if you want something more complex then don’t be afraid to ask! keep requesting yo i love it

#（✿ ◞◟）🫧 marj writes! ﹒#stan marsh #shelly marsh #stan marsh x reader #shelly marsh x reader #south park #south park x reader #south park x reader platonic

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saucymalum · 1 year

Note

You said you wanted requests so here I go (you don’t have to write it) can you write an enemies to lover with Ashton (because that’s the best trope for him) where he finally makes y/n cry. And he goes to apologize and admits his feelings…..k bye 💖

What's This? (Consequences of my Actions) A.I

Ashton Irwin x Gn!reader (they/them pronouns)

Word Count: 2.6k

I am so goddamn sorry this took almost a YEAR. I finally made it tho!

I always knew he hated me. He didn’t hide it. He didn’t like that I was “Invading” his friend group. That I was getting along with them. He didn’t like me. It infuriated me how he acted like he was better than me. All I wanted was to be his friend and he didn't give me a chance. I couldn't understand how he could hate me for no reason. So I gave him a reason.

I tried to annoy him every time I could. He didn’t want me at a party so badly he would text me to not come and I’d arrive early with baked goods. He didn’t like me tweeting about his band so much that he’d intentionally be the only member not following me? I tagged them all in every tweet. I became his hell. Did I hate him? No. But I hated that he treated me like he was better. Like I was insignificant.

To the fans, I was their biggest fan. I’d cover their newest songs on my Instagram story and take pictures in their merch. Some thought I was even dating one of them, which was almost laughable. I truly loved them all. The party's welcoming environment they created pulled me in as Ashton stood in the corner. His hazel eyes look almost black in this light as he watches my every move. Watching me talk to everybody while he tries to keep up the small talk and savors his lemonade. His eyes left a burning trail down my skin. It became a game for me, how far I could push him.

I’d try to ask him questions in conversations, simply because I knew he didn’t want to talk to me. And that's when my plans started to crumble. I liked the guy. I thought he was fucking funny. Being antagonizing was so much easier when I didn’t know him. I wanted to be the asshole's friend. I kept trying to keep up my game, but I failed every time unless it was social media. It’s easy to fake things there. So I did.

I ignored my emotions, my guilt, and the rising feeling that I refused to acknowledge. I posted pictures of myself at their concerts; I posted their songs on my story. I was a good friend, but I avoided Ashton. And at the end of the day, it didn't matter much to him if I showed up to the parties. I saw the glares he’d given me that made me want to laugh in his face. I missed not knowing him.

I started showing up early at parties and sneaking out early. I’d avoid Ash even if I felt his eyes burn me. It seemed fine until he caught on.

I sat at their album release celebration, an hour in, and I zoned out and stared at a wall. People passed by and I sat drinking my now warm beverage. Blurs of people, laughing, smiling, dancing, pass around me. I can't believe I did this to myself.

The seat beside me dips and I look to see Luke looking expectantly at me. One eyebrow raised slightly and his blonde hair growing out from the bleach.

"What's wrong?"

"What makes you think something's wrong?" I laugh nervously.

He sits there, giving no answer, knowing i’ll break. And I do.

I spilled everything, beginning to now. Frustration pours out every word as the temperature in the room seems to rise. I don't want to be here anymore.

Luke sighs and I feel shame replace my relief.

"Why would you do this to yourself Y/N?"

"I DIDN'T WANT THIS! I JUST WANTED THE STUPID LITTLE PRICK TO BE HUMBLED. Or at least annoyed enough to stop being a dick." my breaths shake for a second "In no universe was THIS my plan. "

I fall into the back of the couch. "What do I do?"

"Talk to him."

I groan, "I forgot you're a 'communication is key' person"

Luke lightly shoves me, "So are you until you get scared and run away. You can't run away this time. Avoiding him means avoiding us and you know that."

“I know.”

“So what do you think you need to do?” He asks softly.

I take in a deep breath and straighten my back. My eyes find Ashton chatting up so girl in the corner. I let my feet guide me to him and without a word, too scared to speak, I grab his jacket and pull him out onto the back porch.

“What the Fuck, Y/N?”

“What is your problem with me? You refuse to talk to me, You hate my presence, and you constantly make an effort to show me you think im less than you. Why?”

“Maybe because you do shit like you just did without thinking about how it’d affect me.”

I scoff, “What a cop-out. You’ve hated me from the beginning. I want you to tell me why.”

He creeps further into my personal space. His height becomes increasingly harder to ignore when he looms over me. His breath fans over my face, and I want to cringe at the warmth.

“Has it ever occurred to you in your self-centered little head that not everyone likes you? You’re not some god or goddess Y/n. You grate my veins and you enjoy it. You TRIED to annoy me and you’re confused why I don’t like you? How into yourself can you be?”

Electricity pricks at my skin and the back of my eyes burn, “Don’t act like you didn’t hate me from the get-go Ashton. I know what it feels like to be disliked.”

“Then why does it bother you so much if i don’t like you? Huh? Sweet little Y/N just wants to be loved and cherished by everyone, isn't that right?” My breath shakes as the back of his hand brushes against my cheek. “Well, life doesn’t work like that. Some people will hate your grating voice and some people can't STAND your GODDAWFUL laugh. So get over it and be a fucking adult about it. Stop being a little baby.”

WARNING: description of a panic attack, stay safe and skip to the end of the trigger warning <3

He steps back and I quickly escape the cold night that suffocates me. My throat closes in on itself and my eyes water. I can’t breathe, I can’t BREATHE. I try to drag in breaths, but the effort is beyond fruitless. Through my watery eyes and past the blur and dizziness, I walk to the bathroom. I need to escape. I need to GET OUT. Everyone hates me, such a stupid baby who can’t even handle a man not liking them. How pathetic can you get? Everyone's eyes are on me. They’re laughing at me, aren’t they? I bet they are. The bathroom door’s soft close sounds like a thunderclap in my ears but that thunderclap is the most comfort I have felt since Luke and my conversation ended. My ears are ringing. I don’t know what to do.

I sink to the floor, and my back hits the cold tile, shocking my skin through my thin shirt.I've prepared for this. Ok, just find something you can smell. Ok, I can that. My mind wanders into my negative talk but quickly it snaps to the smell of the Febreze air freshener going off.

Good, good. One down four more to go, I can see the design in the ceiling, that's another.

My lungs slowly feel less pressure on them, not a semi-truck but maybe a minivan. I can hear yelling outside the door, maybe someone knocking, it's so hard to hear when I feel like I'm underwater.

I can feel the tile under my fingertips, the cold feels nice against my skin, the hot trails the tears leave sting and I almost want to press my face into the floor to cool them.

The sweet drink still lingers on my tongue. Good, I got all five. Now breathe. It's so hard when the hiccups interrupt but I practice these exercises every day.

The weight on my chest slowly releases and the tears go dry. I'm left exhausted. I want to go home. The room goes steady and I slowly stand on shaky legs.

I avoid the mirror as I cool my hands in the water flowing in the sink and press them to my cheeks.

WARNING OVER: Stay safe, loves.

The yelling outside gets clearer when I open the door, the house has been cleared away of any guests and the pounding of my heart gets a bit louder. Luke stands in front of Ashton yelling at him, words I barely have the energy to decipher.

“What the fuck is wrong with you right now, Ashton? You are a grown-ass man. What the hell would possess you to think talking to someone like that was ok?” Luke stands next to Sierra. She shoots a disappointed look at Ashton, but he ducks away.

“Oh don’t give me the disappointed parent act.” He scoffs.

Ashton walks over to the couch, closer to me, and I press my back closer to the bathroom door that I closed.

Luke chases after him, “Well, if you didn’t act so immature, maybe I wouldn’t have to Ash! What were you thinking!? You barely know her and you already decided to chase her away?”

“If she didn’t want me to hate her maybe she could have tried to not do everything I hate on purpose.”

“You gave them a panic attack! Nothing they did made them deserve that. We just want you to explain. Can you please just let us understand?”

Ashton pauses putting on his jacket and sighs, “I’m scared, ok?”

“Of what?”

“Luke, they remind me of Lacy, and I can’t get hurt like that again.” He turns around and his eyes meet mine. Shock and remorse fill his eyes, but he brushes past me and bolts for the door.

I take a shaky breath in and look at Luke and Sierra. “Luke who’s Lacy?”

We sat in the living room of Luke and Sierra’s house as they tried to explain it in the most delicate way. But really, how can you explain to someone that they reminded a person they considered an enemy of their dead girlfriend? That they reminded someone they thought hated them of someone they were in love with? I didn't think I could cry anymore. I was wrong. I reminded Ashton of a love that was ripped away from him. I hurt him by being around him.

I wanted to be mad at him. Hurt him for punishing me for something I had no part in but I couldn't.

I just wanted to go home and never leave.

And that's what I did. I stayed in bed, emotionally exhausted and numb. My self-destruction hit me like a brick, canceling my therapy appointment for the next day and turning my phone to do not disturb.

Ashton’s POV:

No one had heard from Y/N in almost a week. Seeing their face when I left made me feel like I swallowed a brick. A part of me felt glad that finally, FINALLY, they would feel just a sliver of what they've made me feel for months.

But the guilt…the guilt at that thought overwhelmed my brain quickly after. What kind of person would that make me to want someone to hurt the way I have? Even if it was someone who hurt that doesn't make it ok.

This guilt led me straight to Y/N's front door. My hand hovered over the door. What was my plan when I got here? I don't think I even gave myself time to make one.

Before I could attempt to knock on the door, it swung open with the image of Y/N's dark-circled eyes staring shocked at me.

"Oh Jesus!" they exclaim and hide behind the door a bit. The wrinkles in the pajama shirt clinging to parts of their body. A small smile creeps into the corner of my mouth at seeing them again. To see that they were at least still alive and kicking.

"I'm so sorry to just show up like this!" I step away from the door, giving them some space. "I want to check in."

Their bottom lip moves between their teeth as they chew at the loose skin. A mental debate wars on behind their eyes, no doubt wondering who asked me to come here.

"Who blackmailed you?" they ask.

A hesitant silence floats between us as I wonder if it'd be wrong to tell the truth.

A sigh passes my lips. "I felt bad."

Their eyes quickly widen again as they forget the effort to hide themself behind the door. They rush the 2 feet to me and place a hand on my arm.

"No! No, you have nothing to be sorry for! I was a goddamn asshole, Ashton! Why didn't you slap me earlier? I was so arrogant and antagonistic towards you. I can't believe it. You did nothing but try to avoid me because you were hurting and I made it ten times harder."

"Y/N, I said horrible things to you. I felt like a villain. I never want to feel like that again. I am so sorry for talking to you like that." My shoulders sink in a subconscious effort to get down to their level. To look them straight in the eyes. To maybe show them all the emotions that I felt the moment I left Luke's house."

Y/N sighs and releases my arm from their grip. They step out of the doorway, a silent invitation. Luckily, I'm not a vampire.

"Ash, what you said was true. I can't fault you for saying the truth."

How could they think that? That anything I said was true, calling them such stupid names in order to belittle them and make them feel small? What have I done?

“Nothing, and I mean nothing, I said to you was true. Yes, I was hurt and yes how you treated me didn’t help but none of it was true and keep telling you otherwise until you believe.”

They look away from my eyes to the ground. “Well, that's gonna take a while since I thought all of those things about myself long before you told me.”

A sour feeling rises in my stomach. Everything in me wants to protect them.

“Well, I’ll be here every time you doubt me.”

They scoff, “Like you’ll call me at 3 in the morning.”

“Who says I won’t” I shrug.

Their eyes glaze over with tears as they look hopefully into mine, “This isn’t how I wanted things to go, you know. I didn’t want us to hate each other.”

They turn away from me, busying themselves in front of their kettle. “I wanted to stop that stupid game months ago.”

My eyebrows wrinkle quizzically, “Then why didn’t you?”

“I couldn’t admit to myself I had feelings for you.”

Their shoulders tense quickly and the spin around to me, “Not that I’m pressuring you at all, I swear. I just-I just had to let you know I didn’t want to hurt you like this.”

“But you did mean to hurt me?”

“I thought you saw me as less than you. I wanted to prove you wrong. Now I know I was the one in the wrong.”

“Y/N I thought you were amazing. I was stupid and thought if I avoided you I wouldn’t fall for you.” I step forward into their space, “I didn’t think I could handle it.”

“Did you?”

The space between our bodies shrinks til we’re breathing the same air.

“Yes,” I whisper, my hand gravitating to their hip.

“And can you handle it?”

“With you, I think I’ll be more than fine.”

#5sos fanfic #5sos fic #5 seconds of summer #ashton irwin blurb #ashton fletcher irwin #ashton irwin fanfic #ashton 5sos #ashton irwin #ashton irwin angst #ashton irwin x reader #5sos #5sos angst #5 second of summer imagines #5 seconds of summer fic

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extratmnt · 10 months

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Title: Donnie hates feeling guilty

Universe: Rise of the TMNT

Pairings: Donnie and Leo, Donnie and his brothers

Word count: Finally a decent amount

Donnie was having a bad day. Nothing in particular made it that way, except for the fact that he was way too sensative right now. AKA snappy. AKA if-he-were-to-touch-something-with-a-weird-texture-he-would-scream. AKA overstimulated.

The worst part about being overstimulated is that you could be having a completely normal day, then out-of-the-blue here comes your nervous system attacking you.

Being overstimulated was kind of hard to describe, but if Donnie were to, he would say that the sound is eating your teeth, that your clothes are made of needles, and that every little light looks like the sun.

Maybe Donnie should have said something sooner, but he didn't. And now they were in a fight with the Purple Dragons.

Donnie did his best, he really did. But your best isn't really that great when you're in his condition.

He finally hit his limit when the movement of fighting caused his sweatshirt to move against his scales, and if you've ever been overstimulated you would know how horrible it feels.

Donnie gasped and deployed his jetpack. He had to get out of there now!

Kendra didn't hesitate to mock him. "Running away from the fight?! What, too cowardly?! Maybe you've just accepted that we're better than you!"

Sure, that hurt his feelings a little bit, but Donnie didn't really care at the moment.

Before he knew it, he was a quarter mile away from the fight.

Donnie found an unoccupied alley and sat down, leaning against the brick wall. He closed his eyes and covered his ears.

Finally, he could relax a little.

After a couple minutes, or a couple of hours, Donnie was calmed down enough to open his eyes. Oh, thank goodness it didn't hurt.

He then uncovered his ears and was immediately bombarded with the sound of his phones notifications. He looked down at it to find over thirty unread texts and fifteen missed calls.

Donnie sighed. He couldn't deal with this now. He stood up and proceeded to use his jetpack to get home.

As soon as Donnie got home, he heard yelling.

"We need to go find him!" Leo.

"I know!" Raph.

"Guys, arguing about it isn't going to help." Mikey.

Donnie tried sneaking over to his room to try and find a figit toy.

"Donnie!"

Or not.

He waved to them.

Raph rushed over to him. "Donnie, are you okay? Are you hurt? Do you-"

Mikey ran in between them and put his hands up. "Woah, Raph, give him a second to actually explain."

"Oh, right. Sorry," Raph apologized.

Mikey turned around to face Donnie. "Donnie, do you mind explaining what happened?"

Donnie opened his mouth and then closed it. What was he supposed to say? He was having sensory issues so he ditched them in the heat of the battle? Nope, not happening. He really was a jerk, wasn't he? So instead, he just settled for shrugging.

Mikey gave him a sympathetic smile. "That's okay. You can tell us later."

Raph looked scandalized. "No, we need to talk about it now."

"No we don't, Raph. Donnie obviously needs a break right now." Leo had made an appearance. He handed Donnie his figit cube. "Here. I think you might want this."

Donnie was amazed that Leo had figured out what he wanted so fast. Even he couldn't most times.

Donnie looked at him in confusion and started playing with the cube.

Leo chuckled. "Well, all the signs were there: non-verbal, excessive stimming, flinching at every loud noise. It just took someone to actually pay attention to see it."

Mikey hummed in understanding. "So, this is why you left? Because you were... having a moment?"

"It's not called having a moment, it's called overstimulation," Leo answered.

Donnie felt tears prickle into his eyes and he looked away. He felt so guilty for ditching them. How could he have been so selfish? They could have gotten hurt without him, and he was just sitting in an alley. He sniffed.

Raph gained a worried look after hearing that. "What's wrong, buddy? You still not feeling good?"

Donnie felt the tears make their way down his face. He whispered his response. "I feel guilty."

They didn't need to ask Donnie what he meant. They knew.

Leo hummed. "Well, you shouldn't. You have no reason to be. Your body and brain just work a little differently from everyone elses. You can't help it. Plus, you guys never hold it against me when I need a break, so why would we do that to you?"

Donnie smiled. Leo always knew that the best way to get through to him was through facts and data. "Thank you." After a pause, he added in a whisper, "I love you guys."

"We love you too, Dee."

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Send me an ask for any requests you might have for me to write!

#rottmnt #rottmnt leonardo #rise leo #rottmnt donatello #rise donnie #rottmnt michelangelo #rise mikey #rottmnt raphael #rise raph #disaster twins #rise of the tmnt #autism #neurodiversity #donnie is autistic #my fic writing #my fiction #my fanfic #my fanfiction #fanfiction

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liaromancewriter · 11 months

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Singled Out

Premise: Max and Sienna are in a predicament when their son is excluded from a birthday party.

Book: Open Heart (post series) Pairing: Sienna Trinh x Max Valentine (M!OC); feat. Noah Valentine (OC) Rating/Category: Teen. Angsty Fluff Words: 1,575 TW: Bullying, use of an ethnic slur

A/N: This fic was requested by @jerzwriter. Submission for @choicesjunechallenge prompt "children"

Noah Valentine was excited to start first grade and wear the navy blazer that was part of his uniform. It was like the ones his father wore to work, and it made Noah feel like a big boy. It was just too bad he didn’t have to wear a tie. Then he would really be like his dad.

On his first day at Briarwood Academy, he waved a hurried goodbye to his parents. He rushed into the classroom, sure that it would be the best day of his life. It was, and it wasn’t.

He supposed the teacher was nice but not as friendly as the ones in his Kindergarten with the colorful walls and ice cream on Fridays. He liked the kids in his class and was happy no one had stolen his crayons.

Aunt Cassie had warned him to be on the lookout for crayon thieves. His dad just rolled his eyes and told her to let it go already.

But there was one boy, Samuel, who kept staring at him. He was bigger than the rest, and the mean look in his beady eyes made Noah feel funny in his tummy.

When the bell rang, the teacher, Miss Penny, led them outside and told them it was time to play. Noah waited in line to go on the slide when Samuel pushed past, shoving him to the ground.

“Excuse me?” Noah said, expecting an apology the way his parents had taught him to do if he bumped into someone.

Samuel didn’t even look at him, just muttered something Noah didn’t understand. He puzzled over what ‘half-and-half’ meant but forgot all about it later when his parents asked him about his first day at school.

But from that day on, Samuel made it a point to pick on him, and Noah tried to ignore the bully. School tried his patience, he thought, remembering the word his mom often used after a long day at work.

A few weeks later, all the kids were bubbling in excitement as Samuel handed out invitations to his birthday party during the break. When Noah stepped up to receive his, the other boy stared at him with a nasty look.

“You aren’t invited to my party,” he sneered. “My parents say mixed blood is worse than being a Chink.”

Noah didn’t know what the words meant, but it sounded bad. He walked away, holding back tears until he was out of sight.

As soon as the school bell rang, he quickly left the classroom, ignoring Miss Penny’s voice behind him, telling everyone to have a good weekend. Tears slowly rolled down his cheeks, but he didn’t care who saw.

Mrs. Banks was waiting outside, chatting with their driver, Danny. She glanced over when he ran out the doors and down the steps, her face falling as it had when he’d skinned his knee in the park during summer break.

“Noah!” she exclaimed in shock and rushed toward him. “What’s wrong, honey?”

Noah threw himself into her arms, big, heaving sobs escaping. He shook his head when she questioned him again, and he heard her sigh. He felt Danny pick him up and carry him to the car while Mrs. B patted his back.

As they drove away, Noah decided then he was never going back to school.

Later that day, Sienna anxiously paced the floor before the elevator waiting for Max. He’d texted to say he was leaving the office. Sienna calculated the drive time, factored in traffic at this time of day and figured he should be arriving any minute now.

When the doors slid open, she breathed a sigh of relief that he hadn’t stopped along the way.

“Hey, you.” He flashed her a smile as he stepped off the elevator. “I wasn’t expecting a welcome party, but I’ll take it.”

Max leaned down to kiss her lips but stopped halfway, concern furrowing his brows. “What’s wrong?”

“It’s Noah,” she replied.

Needing comfort, Sienna slid her arms around his waist, rested her head on his chest and proceeded to tell him everything she’d managed to extract from their son.

Noah had been inconsolable since coming home from school. Worried he’d been hurt physically or worse, Sienna held him in her arms, gently coaxing him until the full tale of Samuel’s bullying and the birthday party snub had come tumbling out.

The latter didn’t bother her as much as the unkind words. She had hoped the world would’ve changed since she’d faced her share of name-calling, casually racist comments and discrimination. Perhaps she’d been naïve in thinking her children would be spared.

“…this has been going on for weeks. He didn’t say anything to me or Mrs. Banks,” she said, and her expression became crestfallen. “You had Man Day last week. Did Noah—”

“I would’ve told you, Sienna,” Max said, tilting her face up so she could see he was deadly serious. “He was quieter than usual but in good spirits.”

Sienna sighed, tears pooling in her eyes. “I knew our children would be biracial, but I really thought society had evolved enough for it to not matter anymore. What kind of parents tell their child it’s okay to say such horrible things?”

“I can’t pretend to understand what it’s like for you,” Max said, brushing his thumbs along her cheeks. “But our kids will always be part of two worlds, and we’ll have to teach them to navigate both.”

She burrowed into his embrace, seeking his strength, her voice muffled against the fabric of his jacket. “I’m a bad mom. I’ve been so busy with work lately that I didn’t notice our son was being bullied.”

“You don’t get to take this on yourself,” Max snapped, letting frustration leak before he controlled himself.

“Sorry. I’m just…” He inhaled and exhaled deeply. “Let’s go inside. We need to talk to Noah together and figure out the next steps. Informing the school and his teacher is step one, and then….”

Sienna leaned back in his arms, her eyes narrowing at the shrewd expression on his face.

“Why do I think you’re already planning retribution?” she said warily.

“The kid is six, Sienna,” Max said, rolling his eyes, amused. “His parents, however, are another matter.”

He unlocked the front door, and they walked inside. “It’s never a good idea to piss off a shark.”

That night Max tucked Noah into bed, handing him the stuffed dolphin plushie—a gift from Cassie—he refused to sleep without and switched on the night light.

“Hey, Dad,” Noah called out just as he started to close the bedroom door. “Were you ever bullied?”

Max turned back and sat down on the side of the bed. He reflected on the difficult conversation he and Sienna had with Noah earlier and thought being a parent was harder than anything else he’d done in his life.

“Yes,” he said. “Remember how Aunt Cassie and I lived in different places growing up?”

Noah nodded. “When you were little like me.”

“Yes. We were often the new kids in class, and sometimes that meant other kids would pick on us,” he said, keeping his tone deliberately neutral. “I remember there was this one kid who said we were lying about being twins because twins are always identical, and we were not.”

“Did you beat him up?” Noah asked with a frown.

Max grinned. “No. My dad taught me there’s only one way to handle people like that.”

“Grandfather Robbie?” he said in awe, eyes widening. His grandfather was one of his favorite people in the world.

At that moment, he looked and sounded so much like Sienna that Max felt his heart lighten. They had agreed before not to overwhelm Noah, but maybe it wouldn’t hurt for him to learn how to deal with bullies now.

“Do you want to know what your grandfather told me?” he said, smiling inwardly at Noah’s vigorous nod.

“Well, bullies like to see you react. It makes them feel powerful,” Max explained. “So, you ignore them. Turn your back and walk away, pretend you can’t hear them. They'll lose interest in you when they see their words can’t hurt you.”

Noah seemed to be thinking over the advice but didn’t say anything. Max lovingly stroked the side of his son’s face, adjusted the bedcovers and started to stand.

“I don’t want to go to Samuel’s birthday party because he’s mean,” Noah said, yawning loudly. “But all my friends at school are going, and I feel left out.”

“I know, and I’m sorry about that, Noah,” Max said gently. “Maybe we can do something special that weekend. You can invite your other friends, your cousins. Have your own party. Or we can go somewhere, maybe a weekend on the beach at St. T?”

“Can we go to St. T and Disneyworld?” Noah said excitedly. “It’s on the way, wouldn’t take long.”

“Both in one weekend? You’ve definitely inherited the Valentine overachiever gene, not to mention our art of negotiation,” Max chuckled. “But let’s pick one thing, buddy. Save the rest for another time.”

“Okay…” Noah yawned again and closed his eyes. “I’d rather have a party. And it’ll be even bigger and better than Samuel’s.”

Max coughed, swallowing back laughter at the stubborn determination in his son’s sleepy voice.

An overachiever and competitive to boot, he thought as he closed the door behind him. The kid was a Valentine through and through.

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All Fics & Edits: @annfg8 @bluebelle08 @coffeeheartaddict2 @crazy-loca-blog @doriopenheart @genevievemd @headoverheelsforramsey @lucy-268 @jamespotterthefirst @jerzwriter @lady-calypso @mainstreetreader @peonierose @potionsprefect @queencarb @quixoticdreamer16 @rookiemartin @socalwriterbee @takemyopenheart @tessa-liam @trappedinfanfiction

Submissions: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics

Max & Sienna only: @aallotarenunelma @storyofmychoices @kyra75

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