#-the only thing i can so it just reblog posts and stare at the ceiling and die gay style

[starheirxero]

did u guys know i love love loveeee robots. so much ^_^

[mahgyu]

Ex-husband!Nanami who even after so much time since the divorce, can only empty his balls with the memory of you.

Unconsciously, he opens that specific folder on his phone titled "my dear love" and scrolls through the numerous photos and videos of you until he finds the same video he always uses to relieve himself. Surprisingly, it's nothing obscene, but just a video he recorded of you while you were spending a homemade afternoon together. Your eyes so bright as you look directly at him instead of the camera lens, your subtle smile gradually growing along with the blush on your cheeks as his voice echoes in the background of the video.

Nanami already has his hand around his semi-hard cock, a weak sigh escaping him as he squeezes the tunnel formed by his hand around the pink head and slides down without loosening the grip, letting out a moan that sounds almost gasping. With the phone in his other hand, he doesn't take his eyes off your image, admiring every pixel on the small screen as if you were truly in front of him.

Nanami always feels his heart will leap out of his chest when he hears the same words that always push him to the edge: "I love you, Kento. And you don't need to record me saying this, you silly. We have a lifetime together for me to repeat this to you as many times as you want." Warm, viscous, and whitish jets stream down Nanami's abdomen where his now soft cock rests. He struggles to regulate his breathing and start to stare at the ceiling after putting the phone down beside him with the video already ended.

And even though the guilt for doing something so dirty with your image overwhelms him as he comes down from his peak, the greater guilt that Nanami truly feels is not having fought harder to keep you by his side. Only Nanami knows how much he would be willing to face the world just to hear you say those things to him directly once more.

Yeah, I have a certain arousal for depressed men AND SO WHAT?? Just a brief pause in the smut + audio series to post this thought I had. It's not corrected so please ignore possible errors.

Your interaction is very important to me, reblogs and comments are always welcome 🫶🏻💕

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Crash and Burn 2

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Tony Stark

Summary: a powerful man comes crashing into your life. Literally.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

“Darlene, you never did have sense!” Your grandmother yawls.  

Your eyes roll to the ceiling and settle on the wall. Your mother snarls back, “it wasn’t my fault!” 

“It never is your fault, is it? But it’s always my mess to clean up.” The old woman barks. 

You sigh and turn off the lamp. Despite the devastation of your home, the rest of your life remains in place. You have a shift at the deli and you can’t afford to miss a single minute now. You know your grandma won’t put up with you for long. You don’t think you can stand her either. 

The venomous back and forth continues as you pull a pillow over your head. It’s impossible to drown out. When it stops, your mom crashes through the door and stomps around. Your adrenaline spikes again. You haven’t really calmed down since the trailer folded into dust. 

She flops onto the bed and scrolls through her phone. The brightness seeps in below the edge of the pillow. The double futon isn’t very spacious. 

The speaker crackles and she cackles at some shitty video. The noise has you rolling to face the wall. She’s so oblivious. Or maybe she doesn’t give the shit. It’s not so different than the trailer. She never did try to keep it down. 

You get no peace even as she falls asleep. She snores like a broken lawn mower. You toss and turn as your grandmother’s cigarette smoke tickles your throat. 

Your life wasn’t grand before. The double-wide was no palace but it was better than this. You huff and give in to insomnia. You stare at the ceiling as frustration boils to rage. 

You can still hear his laughter. Tony Stark is in his fancy robotic suit with his overpriced haircut and blatant nonchalance. He didn’t give a shit that he just destroyed a home. To him, the idea of living in that is laughable. And laugh he did. 

The echo of his amusement irks you until you can no longer lay still. You shimmy to the bottom of the bed and climb off. You snatch your phone from the charger and pace around. The floor creaks under your feet. 

Didn’t he say he’d replace it? Maybe some things can’t be bought but you still own the lot, at least for another month. You just need something to put there. He said so. He owes you. 

So, where the heck is your trailer? 

You push your thumb down without thinking. You type, letting the vitriol stream out of your thumbs.  

‘Tony Stark destroyed my home and my life.  

Right now, I’m at my grandma’s house. Again. Me and my mom have been forced to seek refuge in her guest room. The smell of tobacco and cat piss is so pungent I could choke. I can’t sleep on the futon shared between the both of us and in the morning, I’ll turn in for a minimum-wage job and when I get my check, I still won’t be able to replace what he ruined. 

Four walls. That’s all we had and now we have nothing. Because that playboy, billionaire, douchebag didn’t look where he was flying. He may have saved New York but he has burnt our life to the ground. Literally.’ 

You attach one of the photos you snagged of the wreck. You took as many as you could hoping that the park might be able to use it for an insurance claim. Your heart thumps as you hit post. The little blue line fills up and the check mark flashes. 

You feel better. It’s always nice to be able to vent your problems and you can’t do so with your mom. She’ll just pick apart your words until it’s your fault. And your grandma can’t be bothered to listen either. She would only rant about how she’s stuck with a bunch of losers. 

You plug your phone back in and crawl back onto the futon, fitting in between your mom and the wall. You can get a few hours in before you have to drag yourself to the deli. Tony Stark can take whatever he wants but he won’t steal any more of your sleep. 

After another bout of restlessness, you sink into a shallow haze. You awake with a stone behind your forehead. You take some Advil as you climb out of bed. Your mom continues to snore as you dress in the musty clothes borrowed from your grandma. She’ll begrudge you those along with that the water you use to shower and brush your teeth. 

You leave the house in silence. You yawn and light up your phone on the way to the bus stop. You have to transfer from this route to your usual.  

Huh. That can’t be right. 50k? That’s absurd. You press down on the notification and it brings up your post. 

Oh. It’s real. Your post has blown up. Fifty-thousand. That’s pretty good but it’s hardly viral. If anything, the fanfiction girlies probably think it’s a fic preview. 

You put your phone away as the bus approaches. You dumb a handful of change in the machine as you board and find a seat near the front. Your head bobbles as your eyes droop. Now you can sleep. Huh. 

You open the deli as usual. You set to slicing the days orders and get the breads in the oven. The doors unlock just after eight and the usual customers mill in. When John gets there after ten, you step aside to check your phone. 

No way. A million. It’s impossible. 

It doesn’t matter anyway. A post on the internet isn’t going to get you your trailer back. It will die out soon enough. Maybe you should just delete it. No, that feels wrong. A shitty thing happened and you have a right to be unhappy about it. So, you will and you’ll scream it at your phone screen. 

You put your phone back in your apron and go back to work. The virtual world doesn’t matter. Esther wants her turkey breast. 

[bsdawgz]

「 ✦ Waiting for You ✦ 」 Bungo Stray Dogs, Port Mafia: Nakahara Chūya

a/n: hiiii everyone!! first, i wanna say thank u all sm for all ur support! this fic is a follow up to a thought that crossed my mind one day after work lol. i didn't expect that one post to have as many likes/reblogs as it ended up having, so here's a continuation of that little scenario for my fellow chūya stans. i hope i did ok!

genre: f!reader who's a lil bit bratty; nasty with a sprinkle of fluff cuz it's established relationship!

content warning: MDNI! cunnilingus (he is pussydrunk omg😭), fingering, unprotected sex + he cums inside (she is on birth control), lots and lots of praise and pet names (babe, baby, doll), he says "fuck" like 1 billion times in this (this is canon tho and you can't change my mind about it BAHAHA) and uhhh and he gets a bit rough and overstimulates you (and himself) at the end as well hehe!

summary: after a tough day at work, there's nothing you want more than to be dicked down by your boyfriend, chūya ♡

from just outside your bedroom, you hear a ‘click’ of metal as the front door closes. the sound is followed by a familiar voice grumbling incoherent complaints and a quiet shuffling of shoes. it could only mean one thing: chūya is back from work.

hurriedly throwing on your house slippers, you rush out your room to greet him in the foyer of his apartment, singing his name excitedly for no reason other than the mere joy of seeing your boyfriend after a day spent apart. he chuckles at your liveliness, catching you as you throw your arms around him. you’re always a breath of fresh air after the grueling day-to-day work that is being a port mafia executive. his body, tense from being on-guard all day, relaxes into your touch slowly as he lets his defenses fall for you. pressing his lips to your hair, chūya relishes in the scent of your mint shampoo as you nuzzle into his chest.

“'missed you, doll.”

you had been waiting on your boyfriend for a little over two hours since your shift ended, but the short span of time felt like forever… and you knew exactly why.

you had spent one hour just laying in his king-sized bed. that one hour, you spent thinking, staring up at the ornate ceiling, tracing the details of each unique tile in your mind.

the next hour, you spent laying in that same bed, staring up at nothing, tracing the details of chūya in your mind –

that auburn hair that falls into his eyes, those curls that descend down the base of his neck,

the expensive cologne that lingers on his shoulder, that telling smile on his lips that speaks only your name;

those slender fingers that grasp your neck ever so slightly while your nails rake down his naked back...

the mattress creaking under your bodies as he fucks you –

the thought made you ache.

“ugh, work was such shit today. you’ll never believe who decided to stop by again.” chūya scoffs, snapping you out of your little fantasy. his hand brushes past your waist as he snakes past you to hang his hat up by the door. you feel your body become uncomfortably warm at his innocent touch. you're embarrassed at how flustered you get, your cheeks reddening as another dirty thought enters your mind. oh god… chūya can be so oblivious sometimes. honestly, wasn’t it obvious from the way you jumped at him that you want him to make a move right now? for a man who could be so aggressive with others, he could be awfully passive with you.

“that mackerel dazai is always trying to screw me over… i’ll show him.” he grits his teeth, balling his hand into a fist as he mumbles about work again.

on most days, you would listen to chūya completely. you’d let him talk your ear off, in fact. chūya knew you were his #1 supporter –

but today was different. today has been an exceptionally stressful day at work for you, too.

it started with a power outage at your apartment, which led you to miss not one but two trains at work and consequently, being bitched at by your boss in front of the company president for tardiness… as if being shortchanged on a daily basis wasn’t enough to have you always in a foul mood. in other words, you weren’t feeling up to exchanging pleasantries with chūya today.

now, “sorry, chū~” is all you could muster as you loop your finger on chūya’s waistband, pulling him closer to you by the hips. “work’s not over yet… i need you in the bedroom, now.”

for a moment, your boyfriend just stares at you in disbelief, blinking. that mouth of yours never fails to disappoint – you can be so unassuming at times. a faint blush appears on his face as he looks away in embarrassment, surprised at your directness. there’s that cute face of his, you think to yourself. then, a flash of confidence spreads across his face and his lips curve into a knowing smirk. "i didn't realize my girl would be so needy today," he whispers in your ear in a low voice, suddenly unconcerned about work. guiding your hands, he moves them lower until you're groping him through his pants. "come, i'll give you exactly what you want."

in the bedroom, he’s gentle, loving. trailing his lips down your neck, he pampers you with soft, kitten kisses, undressing you carefully as he pulls the tank top you’ve changed into over your head and slips you out of the fuzzy shorts you’ve left at his apartment for sleepovers. what you really want for him to do right now, though, is to bend you over and manhandle you – but your boyfriend has a habit of treating you like you’re fragile, and you can’t help but wonder if he’s holding back.

unbuttoning his vest and shirt, you discard his clothes in a pile on the floor as he closes in on you, laying you down gently on the edge of the bed and smoothing his hands down your stomach. fingers play with the waistband of your cotton panties as his lips trail down your navel. "you waited so patiently for me... i oughtta reward you for being so good..." he teases.

you whine, feeling arousal collecting between your thighs as his hands inch lower but never touch you where you want him most. you throw your head back in a tantrum, grabbing at his hair. "c'mon chuuuu, just get on with it already," you complain at him. "don't bullshit anymore, please?"

yup, you’re his girl, alright –

“oy–!" he snaps at you scoldingly, rolling his eyes. "honestly, you’re so impatient–”

then, just as you’re about to protest again, you feel that sweet, overwhelming wetness – the heat of his mouth enfolding you as his fingers dig into the flesh of your thighs. he moans into you and you forget all your qualms as he grabs you, holding you still as you spasm. “c-chūya… oh, god…” his name spills out of your lips and you gasp in pleasure, your hands getting tangled in his hair as he delves his tongue between your folds. his movements are skillful; he teases you with long licks and flicks of his tongue, exploring your taste as his slender fingers gather the arousal inside of you and rub circles at your clit.

“fuck, babe… you’re so fucking wet right now… this all for me?”

“all for you, chū~” you moan shamelessly in response, stealing a peek at him in between shaky breaths. there’s this wicked grin that's snuck its way onto his lips, a hunger in his eyes as he laps up your wetness, soaking in the stunning sight of your writhing under him. diving back in between your thighs, you hear him groan lowly against your bare skin:

“tastes so fucking sweet, babe… better cum for me…”

and you need so much more of it.

burying your hands in his hair, you force his face deeper into you, as if he can burrow himself into your body. you plead for more, desperately grinding yourself against his tongue, crying out his name as he holds you in firmly against his eager mouth. “chūya, please… please, chūya…”

then, just like he promised he would, chūya gives you exactly what you want —

he eats you like he’s starved, unrelenting, until heat sears through your entire body and your mind mind goes completely blank. your orgasm comes in waves. you convulse beneath him, his name spurting from out from your lips, your insides clenching the fingers that are still buried inside you.

“fuck, you’re hot.” — you hear him groan under his breath.

the sight of you so desperate and needy for him, gagging for him to fuck you dumb, has flipped a switch in him. he’s far from finished with you. “you’re still on the pill, right?” he asks, out of breath, and you nod.

stripping, chūya frees himself from his boxers. you lick your lips at him seductively, looking up at him with these lustful eyes that are waiting to return the favor. he's hard from watching you come undone and leaking with his own pre-cum. for a moment, he considers having you suck him first – but the desire to be buried deep in your heat is just so overwhelming. he needs to be inside of you right now.

“i’m just gonna put it in this time, fuck it,” he swallows, grabbing your hips and positioning you in front of him. “be a good girl for me, alright, doll?”

“always am, chū~” you quip, reaching for him as you blink your eyes at him innocently, this playful grin on your face. all he can do in response is smirk at you and shake his head at your persistent teasing, all too aware of the the fact that you have him wrapped around your finger. as you guide him inside you, you hear him inhale sharply, then you look up to see the long column of his neck as he sighs and throws his head back, sinking himself inside of you.

"damn, you feel good... if i knew you'd be treating me tonight... 'woulda come home sooner..." his fingers caress your cheek, his thumb circling around your lips as he glances back down to see how your body meets his. your slickness is sucking him right in – you're so warm and so, so very wet that it's taking no time for you to adjust to him tonight. as he pushes your thighs apart until you're on full display for him, his eyes wander down your body intently. his gaze is hot and full of nothing but pure admiration as he takes in the view of you desperately waiting to be fucked. "can't believe you're all mine too," he mumbles adoringly, stroking your hair with his hand, the strands slipping through his fingers as he grinds his hips slowly against yours. then, he starts moving, thrusting into you steadily until you're crying out his name again, begging for more.

“feels… s’good chū~ please… harder… chū, please… go harder…”

picking up the pace, he throws your legs over his shoulders and snaps his hips into yours faster, faster, faster. your mind is flooded with nothing but thoughts of chūya – being filled by him completely, his name overflowing from your lips, and the sound of your skin against his drowning out your moans. you feel his fingers squeeze the sides of your neck, then his hand wraps around a cluster of your hair and he pulls your head back, forcing you to look into his eyes once more as you gasp for breath.

"fuck, baby, you're so pretty right now. do you even have any idea how sexy you are?" he's panting wildly, this insatiable look glistening in his gray irises as he fucks you brainless. that damn look of pure bliss on your face, those filthy moans of yours, and your bouncing breasts are all driving him insane. "god, kiss me–" he growls, crashing his lips into yours. teeth collide with teeth as your noses bump together; you feel his saliva mix with yours and your tongues intertwine. "turn around for me, babe. lemme get behind you."

you nod, and he tosses you on your knees recklessly, then pulls you back against him fast and hard. you feel a firm slap to your ass and you yelp out his name. "fuck, babe, i'm not gonna last much longer. i'm gonna cum inside–"

“faster chū… faster… cum inside me... i want you to…”

"oh shit... fuck, baby–" he twitches inside of you, grabbing your breasts roughly as he empties hot spurts of cum inside you. you think he's finished with you – but then he buries his fingers into your hips again and starts fucking into you harder, nearly collapsing as he slams into you. you tangle your hands into his hair from behind, sobbing out his name as you shove your hips back against his, helping him ride out the last moments of his high.

“oh my god, chū… feels fucking good…”

finally, you feel him pull out, leaving your core throbbing and your legs trembling as his hot seed leaks down your thighs.

"jesus, i made a mess." there's some irritation in his voice as he catches his breath, raking a hand through the beads of sweat in his hair. "i guess new sheets are coming out of my next paycheck," he mutters. then, pressing a kiss to your shoulder, you feel his arms wrap around your waist as chūya pulls you tight against his chest. "c'mon doll. let me run a bath for us."

…

sitting between chūya's legs in the bathtub, you scrub shampoo bubbles through his hair as your boyfriend pours out another glass of expensive wine. "oy – don't get carried away. you know you're a lightweight," you tease.

"–am not!” he mutters defensively, rolling his eyes at you. then, bringing the glass to your lips, he parts your mouth with his thumb. "taste it, you'll like this one."

taking a sip, you savor the flavor on your tongue before passing the glass back to chūya. "oh, yeah, you said you had a bad day at work, right? what happened?"

"honestly, i can't even remember now," he sighs, putting the glass down and pressing a kiss to your temple. "how ‘bout you, doll? how was your day?"

you think for a moment, then scrunch up your nose in disgust as you recall the day's events. "don't even get me started–!"

© BSDAWGZ 2024. Do not steal or repost ANY of my works! That’s plagiarism, and it’s mean. :(( Beautiful dividers by @ v6que~!

[antiquarianfics]

Shower

Sometimes it's all you can do to breathe. Sometimes you need a little help--even with the basics. Bucky's happy to help.

A/N: This is a completely self-indulgent comfort fic. Genre: Fluff / Rating: PG Pairing: Bucky Barnes x Fem!Reader Warnings: Themes of mental illness, nudity. Note: I do not own the character Bucky Barnes or any other Marvel affiliated characters.

You do not have permission to copy or repost my work; however, feel free to like, comment, and reblog.

---

If you were being perfectly honest with yourself, you knew this was pathetic: lying on the bathroom floor, nibbling on a half eaten pop tart, and listening to the shower run.

“Not only am I gross,” you think, “I’m wasting perfectly good water.”

You sigh, willing yourself to stand up, to shower, to not eat on the bathroom floor. But you can’t.

Depression is weird like that, taking seemingly simple, inconsequential tasks and turning them into battles. You certainly didn’t lie on the bathroom floor, eating pop tarts, while listening to the shower run when you were mentally well.

The truth was: You just got back from a mission. A run of the mill recon mission. You were in, you were out. You did your job. But now you were sweaty, and sore, and unable to do anything for the benefit of yourself. Helping other people? No problem? Helping yourself? Mission: Impossible.

You groan, pulling your towel under your head for minimal neck support as you stare at the ceiling. You can see where condensation slowly develops and drips from the fan, and if you turn your head, you can see the fogged up mirror.

“I’ve been here a while,” you note.

You pull out your phone, checking the time. 9:04 PM. You don’t know when you got back, when you turned on the shower, when you dropped to the floor. The time tells you nothing.

You groan again, throwing your arm across your eyes. You’re tired, and you’re positive you could fall asleep here on the bathroom floor. You know you shouldn’t, but you could… and you haven’t been sleeping in your bed… and you let yourself drift off.

Banging. You wake to banging. No—knocking. You wake to knocking. As you come to, you realize someone is knocking on the bathroom door. You don’t have it in you to stand and open it. You never undressed anyway, lying on the floor in your tac suit, so you call out “unlocked!” and watch as the doorknob twists and the door is cautiously opened.

“Y/N?” The intruder calls softly with concern lacing each syllable of your name.

You groan in response, letting your arm fall from your face as your eyes flutter open. You look up to be met with the ever so concerned blue eyes of your best friend: Bucky Barnes. As he makes eye contact with you on the floor, eyes drawn downward at your groan, eyebrows scrunched in confusion, he opens his mouth to say something before seeming to think better of it.

“Can I come in?” He asks cautiously after a moment.

You nod and he slips into the bathroom, gently closing the door behind him. He lets himself sink to the floor beside you, pulling your head into his lap both to accommodate his large size in your small bathroom and in an attempt to comfort you. He lets his hand fall to your hair, quietly playing with it. You hum contentedly, eyes fluttering closed again, and you’re grateful he hasn’t begun interrogating you even though you know he’s confused.

Maybe 5 minutes pass in silence. Your mind is finally somewhat at ease from the comfort Bucky brings you, but you know he deserves an explanation as to why he’s on your bathroom floor holding you while the shower runs.

“I…” you start, trailing off before clearing your throat nervously and trying again. “I know this is weird. I can explain.”

Bucky shakes his head, raising an eyebrow. “You don’t have to, Doll. Lord knows I don’t always explain to you the weird things I do when I…” have an episode, he was going to say. He doesn’t want to call this an episode, though. He’s still not sure what this is. “We all deal with post-mission stress differently,” he says instead.

You huff. “I wish I was doing this because of mission stress.”

Bucky doesn’t respond, just watches patiently as he continues to run his fingers through your hair. He refuses to force anything out of you you’re not ready to share; after all, you never force him to spit his feelings out.

“Bucky, I… I’m not doing well.”

The admittance takes you off guard. You hadn’t even acknowledged to yourself that you weren’t doing well. You’d been avoiding that simple truth, that small detail.

“Yeah. Healthy people don’t generally run up the water bill while they snack on the floor,” Bucky teases gently. You are aware there’s no malice behind his words; he’s just trying to lighten the mood. You cringe, though, when you realize he had noticed the pop tart wrapper and the clear lack of pop tart. Bucky notices you cringe, though, and his light smile drops.

“How can I help, Doll?”

You shake your head. “You don’t have-”

“I want to,” he cuts you off.

You swallow nervously, but nod. You’ll let him help you.

“I, uh. Can you…” you scrunch your eyes, grounding yourself despite your embarrassment. “Can you help me shower?” You choke out the words, hoping he maybe missed them and will leave you on the bathroom floor to sulk.

Bucky smiles encouragingly, not showing any signs that he is bothered or uncomfortable with the request. Instead of running and leaving you to your self-destructive tendencies, he helps you sit up before standing himself, grabbing your hand and pulling you to your own feet. Gently he helps you out of your tac suit that clings to your body uncomfortably from sweat both from the mission and the steamy bathroom. Once your suit is removed, he helps you pull off your sports bra and shimmy out of your underwear. It’s intimate, yes, but it’s not at all sexual. You can’t help but curse yourself for letting the first time he saw you like this be under these circumstances. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. You bite your lip anxiously, closing your eyes as you wrap your arms around yourself in a self conscious hug.

Bucky’s gaze is 100% respectful. He keeps his eyes on your face, or the back of your head when you’re turned around, only letting his gaze drop to help you out of your constricted clothing.

He finally helps you step into the shower, pulling the curtain closed as you step in. You let yourself stand under the water, staring at the wall in front of you. Your thoughts are running a million miles an hour and are also nonexistent at the same time. You wish you knew how you could think about everything and nothing at the same time.

You hear a soft clinking sound that you’re sure is Bucky unbuckling his belt. Then you hear the sliding of his jeans down his legs, and the gentle grunt he lets out while he takes off his shirt. You’re not sure because you can’t see, but you’re pretty sure you hear him fold his clothes and yours to set neatly on the counter. Finally, he pulls the shower curtain back a little to step in himself.

He smiles reassuringly at you, keeping his eyes on yours. You force a small smile onto your own lips in response.

He’s still in his boxers, protecting his modesty for your sake. You can’t help but feel a little disappointed but you shake your head, chasing those thoughts out of your mind. He’s just your friend—your best friend—and he’s only doing you a favor. As a friend. Not his girlfriend.

Bucky’s eyebrows scrunch together in concern as he watches you shake your head, obviously distraught.

“Hey, hey. Sweetheart, look at me,” he says, resting his palm on your cheek. You look at him. “Are you alright?” He asks, searching your eyes for any indication that you’re not.

You only nod. He eyes you suspiciously but drops the subject. Instead, he reaches behind you for your shampoo, squirting some into his hand, before letting his hands fall into your hair, slowly massaging the shampoo into your scalp.

Bucky quietly washes you, stepping back only to let you wash your more intimate parts. His hands on your body are intoxicating. His right is calloused and rough from decades of use and his left is smooth and and warmed from the water, but they’re both so gentle as they run along your body. When he finishes bathing you, he lets his arms drop to his side, and you immediately miss his touch. He looks anxious and unsure of himself for the first time since entering your bathroom, and you realize it’s because he suddenly isn’t sure what to do with himself. Without thinking much about it, you give him a new task.

You step forward into him, wrapping your arms around his torso and resting your cheek against his chest. The action surprises him, but he almost immediately wraps his own arms around you, holding you close. He plants a soft kiss to the top of your head.

“I’ve got ‘ya, sweetheart,” he assures. “I’ve got you.”

[lalal-99]

If You Don't Know {h.h.} | Afterglow Series

©July 2023 by lalal-99 Part of the Afterglow Series Taglist for series

Hyunjin x afab!reader | trope: break up sex, lovers to exes | smut, angst | wordcount: 6k

Synopsis: “You know, if it weren’t for my job, I wouldn’t go. Right? I would never leave you like this voluntarily.” Hyunjin understood. Obviously, he did. Your job came first. It had always come first and would always come first in the future. Just as it did for him. It was the one thing he respected most about you. “And you know if it weren’t for mine, I would leave everything behind and come with you, right?”

Warnings: explicit content | dni if your under 18

Smut Tags: Angsty Porn with Plot | Sex with the Ex | Break-up Sex | Vaginal Sex | Oral Sex (f. receiving) | Semi-Public Sex | Toys | Overstimulation | Edgeplay | Mild Painplay | Crying during Sex | Emotional Sex

Note: I'm very emotional. Don't talk to me (comment though). Just listen to the playlist, it's self-explanatory. Also read the other stories in this series. I'm going back to crying now.

Taglist: @skzho @bubblelixie @flakywig @itsallaboutkey @avyskai @mekuiikore @joonghands @changbiddies0325 @knowleeknow @sensitiveandhungry @shincode @svintsandghosts @snoozeagustd @tinyarsonist @fxckedupbitch @rachabreathing @haneuljisung @goblinracha @maknaeswrld @michbang02

Tumblr works on a reblog system. Please consider reblogging this post so that it can reach more people. Thank you :)

Please don't flag as mature - Thank You!

There it was again. The heart-wrenching, soul-shaking pain that made it so very harder for Hyunjin to breathe. To live. To look at you.

He had never imagined ever being this hurt by you, unable to look at you longer than a few seconds while at the same time respecting every decision that had led you here. Not you. Not the person he had planned his whole future and spent the majority of his adulthood with.

The two of you were meant to be together; had decided so after only months together. Because no one could ever get you as much as Hyunjin did, and vice versa. You were the perfect match of similarities and differences. For everything you had in common, there was something you could teach the other about. For every fight you had – bickering over something unimportant – you agreed on a much more intense matter. The perfect back and forth, even after years together.

He still remembered the first time he saw you at that rooftop party one of his friends had held a few years back. He noticed you while talking to a guy he so desperately hoped was your brother or cousin. Or best friend. Anyone, as long as he wasn’t your boyfriend. He recalled the first time you made him laugh, just seconds later, when you let out an unintended snort while laughing at something your brother/cousin/best friend had said. And his own hearty giggle in response to your amusement ultimately induced the first time you noticed his existence. The world had stopped around Hyunjin as you caught his gaze – embarrassed redness warming your cheeks as you realised he had witnessed your weird laugh.

It had taken him about 20 more minutes before he couldn’t take it anymore and approached you. He knew he would never forgive himself for not hearing the sweet sound of your voice or seeing the mesmerising spark in your eyes up close at least once.

Hyunjin also remembered the exact moment he fell in love with you. Staring at you with heart eyes when you told him you were an artist, too. A painter, just like himself. Why ever this was what did it for him, Hyunjin had never questioned. Although he knew, as he laid in bed that night, eyes painting pictures against the white ceiling, that he needed to see you again. If only to talk about your favourite artists and art museums for another 3 hours.

Hyunjin recognised – and had done so way before – that he’d never forget any of those precious moments.

Like when you went to the fair on your first date and won him a stuffed dumpling, already aware they were his favourite food. Or how you were forced to cut your date short moments later when you noticed the first person wearing Stray Kids merch. And obviously, he would always hold that day dear in his heart. Despite the unfortunate ending of your date, you had called him minutes after he had dropped you off at your apartment to tell him that you already couldn’t wait to see him again. He had turned around, sprinting back and ringing your doorbell, overwhelming you with a kiss once you opened the door for him.

Or the time you went to the beach, chatting endlessly with your feet dangling over the water. The moment Hyunjin pulled away from your lips, moonlight sparkled in your irises, catching them in the perfect lightning. He blurted ‘Please be my girlfriend’ quicker than his brain could process, heart only settling once you caught his lips again, whispering a content ‘Yes’ against him.

The first time you told him you loved him was engraved in his brain, never to be forgotten. You exclaimed it (just as unintentionally as he did when he asked you to be his girlfriend) while cuddling in bed, laptop playing your favourite Disney movie. It was merely background noise as his heart skipped multiple beats, lips curving into a shit-eating grin as he repeated your words back to you before kissing you, his body soon hovering over you as he worshipped every possible edge of your figure.

All these moments, everything he had hoped to one day tell his children and grandchildren about. Every memory that came back to him made him so unbelievably content he could cry. And still, as his eyes focused on your back, he was hurt. He understood, but he was also in unbearable pain.

“When did you get back?” Hyunjin had watched you for a minute before finally speaking up, stepping onto his balcony to join you. With the shrinking distance, so shrunk his pain. Even if just slightly.

“A while ago.”

After storming off about two hours ago, you took time to walk it off. While unable to reach you, Hyunjin had taken the same time to talk about what had happened to the one person he never imagined having such deep talks with within his household. He had been searching for Chan or Changbin, knowing how busy his hyungs usually were, and unsurprisingly found neither. He was about to call either of them, crying his heart out over the phone, hoping they would take pity and come home to comfort him when he bumped into Jisung.

Although their conversations never reached beyond the unserious topics of food, hobbies, or embarrassing memories, Jisung turned out to be the one person Hyunjin needed right now. Listening was his strong suit, allowing Hyunjin to spurt out all the thoughts in his head without judgement or advice. Jisung’s incapability to lead Hyunjin the way left him no choice but to do the thinking and solving himself. Just talking about the situation and rambling about how unfair life was turned out to be exactly what he needed.

“We should probably talk about it, right?”

“Yeah, probably,” you agreed with a sigh. Hyunjin came to your side, his hand hugging yours on the railing as he gazed into the distance. “The things you said- that really hurt me. Like... I know I’m the bad guy here, but still.”

“You’re not the bad guy. We always knew this day could come.”

You love me? Well, you have a shitty way of showing it!

“And I’m sorry. I keep replaying it in my head, and I didn’t mean it. I just- needed to react.”

His words kept ringing in his memory as much as he tried drowning them out. It had taken saying them out loud to Jisung a gazillion times to finally realise how wrong he was. How unfair he had treated you.

Go ahead, then! Rip my heart out! Show me what the love you claim to have is all about!

He had said them to your face. Like an absolute asshole.

“I- fuck. This just really sucks. Like, so much.”

“It does. And I’m sorry.”

He knew you were. You had said so, so many times he had lost count. And he knew he’d be sorry too, had it been him leaving. He had left you in the past, multiple times, for that matter, and he had felt so guilty every time. But it wasn’t him this time. It was you. And it wasn’t just weeks either. You were looking at a year, maybe more. That didn’t compare to all the times he had to leave for tour – two weeks, four, sometimes six.

“You know, if it weren’t for my job, I wouldn’t go. Right? I would never leave you like this voluntarily.”

Hyunjin understood. Obviously, he did. Your job came first. It had always come first and would always come first in the future. Just as it did for him. It was the one thing he respected most about you.

“And you know if it weren’t for mine, I would leave everything behind and come with you, right?”

A tiny smile appeared on your face, although it was just as much a loving one as a hurting one.

“So, what now? Are we just supposed to end things?”

Is this what love is all about? Loving and letting go? Finding someone and losing them? An endless cycle?

You shifted your weight to lay your head onto his shoulder like you had done all those times before. Though this time, your head felt much heavier.

“I think so, yes.”

Hyunjin laid his spinning head onto yours, kissing your temple before focusing on the horizon again.

“What if-” It was a spontaneous outburst, his mouth betraying his brain like it did when he had asked you to be his all these years ago. Hyunjin didn’t know where he was going with it anyways, but you interrupted him before he could find out.

“Don’t do this,” you warned, pulling away to find his eyes. The sadness in his was heartbreaking, tears forming at the edges. He hated the realisation that despite the moonlight catching your irises, they didn’t sparkle. It was more like a glimmer caused by the liquid drowning them. “Don’t try to save this. Let’s enjoy the time we have left instead of clinging to the future we imagined for ourselves.”

Hyunjin was in the same parts frustrated with and respectful of the rationality you handled this situation with. Especially knowing this must break you as much as it did him. That’s what your face told him, brows furrowed and eyes dimming, to prevent the overflowing pain from spilling over.

As much as he wished to find a solution, he knew better than to waste whatever hours the two of you had left together. He wanted to spend every second of it loving you, touching you. The faster he accepted the inevitable, the sooner he’d get to just live.

Hyunjin held your face in his hands, your cheeks pushed between his palms so adorably squishy as he tried memorising every pore. That distinct mole on the bridge of your nose, those beautiful eyes he had spent weeks staring into, the pout of your lips as you looked up at him. He used to love all of those features that had become the muse of his work, drawings and every day. Now, looking at you, wiping a stray whiplash off your cheekbone, filled him with unease.

“I know we just broke up,” a tear escaped your eye at his words, running down your jaw and caught by his thumb. Saying it out loud made it so much more real. “But I really want to kiss you right now.”

Your chuckle was met with a lip bite as you leaned up to catch his mouth in a heavy kiss.

The sensuality of the kiss almost made him forget what had just happened, tongues soon finding each other.

“I’ll so miss those lips.”

Hyunjin smirked at your words, drawing away but keeping his hands on your cheeks. “Not just the lips, I hope.”

“No. I’ll also miss braiding your hair. And painting your nails.” Tilting his head, your heart almost combusted at how adorable he looked. “Fine. I’ll also miss the man behind all those things.”

“But most of all, my lips?”

“Exactly.”

“What will you miss most about them?” His lower lip wandered between his teeth as he watched the blush creep up your neck.

“I’ll miss kissing them. Tasting you-”

“Just kissing them? Nothing else?“

“I’ll miss their plumpness and how they feel against my- my- neck.” As on cue, he tipped your head back with the push of a finger against your chin, mouth meeting your main artery. His kisses were hot against your flushed skin, tracing the veins until he reached under your ear. His wet tongue darted out to lick over the sensitive part of your neck.

“Your neck, huh? Anywhere else?”

You weren’t stupid. You knew what Hyunjin was doing. And you would have been lying had you claimed you weren’t entirely on board with it.

“My chest,” you answered breathlessly as his hands followed his lips, eventually circling your neck to keep you in position. You reached for his long locks, entangling and pulling at their blonde roots as he kissed your cleavage. Hyunjin moaned against your skin but didn’t let go. He was entirely caught up in the moment, tranced by the smell of your perfume and your body’s reactions. His kisses always made your senses blur and your brain fog. “My stomach.” Hyunjin’s hands graced your arms, down your sides, until his fingers grasped your shirt. Pulling it up, he exposed the skin. Soon enough, you felt his lips against your navel.

“Go on.” His words were almost silent, moaned against your flesh.

“My- my-”

“I’m listening.”

“My thighs,” you ended your thought, breath hitching when Hyunjin sank to his knees. Hadn’t your hands been in his hair, you wouldn’t have noticed. Not until you felt his lips exactly there. On your thighs. Kissing every fibre of them. Licking over the skin. Closing in on your centre.

What a day to wear a skirt.

That you were still on the balcony of his apartment had completely slipped your mind. How couldn’t it with how utterly overwhelming his kisses were?

Small bites led his way all over your flesh, tongue darting out every few kisses to capture your taste. That’s everything he could think of at that moment. To capture your essence, fill his head with all those details about your smell, touch, and body.

Pushing your skirt up, he slowly unveiled you for him. Not like he didn’t exactly know just how you looked under it. He had spent hours, days – weeks, probably – getting to know your body and every one of its details. Your beauty marks, your stretch marks – which he found just as beautiful – your erogenous zones. Hyunjin knew how sensitive you were on your thighs, playing with that knowledge to his and your hearts’ content.

“Baby…” His heart jumped at your pet name, the next bite extra deep, making you groan.

“I love it when you call me that.”

His fingers wandered around your body to your ass, nails pushing into your skin as he kneaded it. Mouth wandering even further up, he soon reached your panties, tongue dancing along the hem.

As much as he wanted to take his time, he let himself be urged by your quickening breath and fingers pulling his hair. Wrapping his teeth around the elastic, he dragged it down your thighs, exposing your heat to his longing gaze. He intended to worship you, devour you, until all you could say – or scream – was his name. And there was no doubt that he knew how to achieve his goal.

“Hyunjin…”

“Say it again,” Hyunjin pleaded, tongue tiptoeing centimetres over your core. “Call me ‘baby’.”

“Fuck, baby. Please. I’m begging you.”

The absence of a verbal answer was forgotten as Hyunjin dove in, muscle pushing between your folds to softly run over your flesh. A dark moan escaped your lips, head falling back against your neck as you threatened to suffocate.

One thing to know about Hyunjin was that he was a Soft Boy™. Everything about him was gentle and calm – midnight pillow talks, painting beside each other, making love. He never went full force right at the get-go; or in the further stages, for that matter.

His tongue was precise, the sharp tip toying with every nerve ending between your tiniest crevices. As though he was worshipping every fibre, taking his sweet, sweet time.

Despite being surrounded by fresh air, you got ridiculously hot, moans tumbling out of you loosely. Had the balcony not been shielded from the neighbours on either side, they would have easily spotted you. Although, you doubted they wouldn’t have figured out your evening shenanigans if they were to overhear. The sloppy noises from Hyunjin’s mouth on you mixed with your sounds of pleasure were more than self-explanatory.

His tongue leisurely roamed around your core, dipping into your hole before passionately prodding against your clit.

You grew even hotter, fingers running through Hyunjin’s hair while your head lolled from side to side.

You could already tell you wouldn’t last as long as usual, only reinforcing that feeling when he pulled one of your legs over his shoulders. With your back pressed against the railing, one of your hands came to the metal bar to stabilise your body. Hyunjin was rocking your body in the most literal sense, lips wrapping around your nub as the new angle allowed him to devour you even more reverently.

Looking down at him was possibly the worst decision you could have made, the sight of him between your thighs heavenly. He looked like an angel as he made out with your heat, eyes closed in concentration and desire.

You were so in love with the man that the pure vision of him eating you out, gaining as much pleasure from it as you did, was leading you closer to your impending high.

“Fuck. Hyunjin.” Your whimper was met with a squeeze of your plush thigh, a smile spreading on your face as you instantly understood the indication of his action. You quickly corrected yourself to please him, “Baby. I’m so close.”

Spreading your folds with two of his fingers, Hyunjin focused the movement of his tongue on your clit, gently stroking it back and forth. He opened his eyes to note your reaction as you had long gone back to gazing at the night sky, sight blurring as you savoured the moments before your inevitable orgasm.

Your breath quickened with every single one of his movements. You could almost taste the sweet release as your ab muscles mildly contracted. Hyunjin must have noticed a particular reaction in your figure, a grin appearing on his face as he pulled at your nub one last time before withdrawing.

It took you a couple of seconds to gather that he wasn’t resuming his actions, a sigh leaving your lips.

“Don’t be mad.” Joining you at eye level, Hyunjin pushed his lips against yours, letting you taste yourself. “We have all night. You’ll get to come. Eventually.”

After spending many years with each other, you knew Hyunjin liked to tease and edge you. For some reason – be it overpowering you or his sadomasochistic tendencies – he had always loved making you go crazy for him. Since your first time together, the process of making love solely lengthened. Rarely did your shared time last for less than a couple of hours at a time; your record standing at an all-nighter on your anniversary a couple of months ago.

Despite the situation being sadder than the celebration of your relationship, you could already tell that this wouldn’t be a quick goodbye. Frankly, you didn’t expect to get any sleep tonight. Hyunjin’s intentions were transparent as he took your hand and guided you into his room. All it took was a sharp twist of his wrist, and you were situated on his bed, body pulled all the way to the edge as he glided into place.

Thus began the most excruciating hours of your life, Hyunjin locking his mouth to your body and tossing the key.

Somewhere between the 10th and the 15th maddening edge, you believed you had lost consciousness for a while. You still remembered Hyunjin pulling out your rabbit, placing it between your thighs to offer you something to clench around as he concentrated on your clit. Nibbling. Sucking. Craving.

When you came to, Hyunjin had repositioned you at the headboard. His mouth was on one of your nipples, teeth gently sinking into it as a sea of whimpers washed over your tongue. Had you still had any sort of power to talk, you’d have told him to finally fuck you. That all you needed was to be around him, clenching around him instead of the vibrating silicone.

At last, after around another 30 minutes of Hyunjin slowly travelling up your trembling shape, he finally landed in eyesight. His lips around your neck sucked at your bruised skin, breath shallow as you swore you started seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.

“Please.”

Even your voice had become so frail it barely reached above a whisper. Hyunjin arrived at your eye level, body held carefully above yours to not crush you. His lips were swollen red, blood pumping through them as though they were his most vital organ. When you noticed the blurriness in his eyes – from either being in a trance or crying, you couldn’t tell – another whimper left your lips.

“Please, what, baby?”

His voice also broke, though still a lot less fragile than yours.

“Please…” Words. What even were words? You could barely put together multiple letters, let alone syllables. “Baby, please…” Focusing your eyes on the ceiling, you felt your abs weakly contracting as the vibrator still pumped away inside you. So steadily inside you. Inside you. Inside. Inside. “Inside. Please. Baby.”

You knew you couldn’t get closer to what you were trying to ask him to do. Tears of relief rolled down your cheeks when finally, after possibly the most prolonged foreplay you had ever received, he pulled the toy out of you with a smile.

“Anything for my baby.”

“Baby,” you repeated his words, your head rolling forward to watch him enter you.

And enter you he did. With an agonisingly slow-paced movement, Hyunjin slid his length into you, rubbing the numbly swollen walls until he couldn’t go any further.

Feeling you instantly clenching around him, core so delicate from hours of teasing, Hyunjin waited a while – possibly minutes. For what felt like an eternity, he merely kissed you, lips still not surrendering. You had no mind questioning how he wasn’t entirely spent like you.

“Can I move?”

You nodded, eyes immediately closing in pleasure as he retracted. With how tender you had become, it felt as though every single one of his movements was lighting your nerves on fire. Hyunjin kept unwinding inside you, but you had already reentered that wonderful place between serenity and desire.

“Baby, you’re so tight.” Yeah, no shit. You wanted to yell at him and tell him that’s what comes from hours of stimulation without release. Too bad you still couldn’t talk. Or move. Or think.

Everything felt so good. Like Hyunjin was stimulating every part of your body simultaneously. You couldn’t remember another time you had felt this close to him, physically; bodies morphing into one as he panted above you. You breathed the same boiling air, let out the same delicious sounds, and looked at each other with the same amount of pure, unwavering love.

“I love you so much. All of you. Forever.”

The words Hyunjin had repeated so many times to you throughout your relationship were what broke you.

The tears that had previously signalled your relief – eventually able to have all of him – turned to ones of sadness and despair. It took around 10 seconds for Hyunjin to realise you were crying, movements haltering abruptly.

Remaining still inside you, Hyunjin brought his fingers to your face to brush away the salty liquid.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” he questioned compassionately, irises boring into your own through the veil of sorrow. “Did I hurt you?”

“No. M-” Your voice broke away, hands coming up to shield your face from his view. Here you were crying during sex, having Hyunjin so worried he had hurt you. “Me. I- I hurt you.”

It all came to you now. Yes, you had been feeling guilty for the past few weeks. Ever since you found out you would be leaving. Leaving your home. Leaving him. But now, it finally hit you. You wouldn’t just be exiting his life. You would be leaving him in pieces. He loved you so much. All of you. Forever. And you loved him just as much. Maybe even more.

You never meant for it to end this way. You had been in denial about your departure since it was decided. And now that it had moved so very closely, you doubted every decision you had made.

“I hurt you. But I love you. So much.”

“I know.” Hyunjin seemed calm, as though he was trying to stay strong for the two of you. Like you hadn’t shattered his heart by revealing you had chosen your career over him. “It’s alright, baby. I’m okay.”

He brought your trembling hand to his mouth, kissing every knuckle before brushing your fingers over his face. His skin was soft, courtesy of the dozen skin products he used every day. Oh, how’d you miss putting sheet masks over his smooth, handsome features and massaging the cream deeply into his pores. He always smelled so much like flowers afterwards that, at some point, your subconscious had saved it under ‘home’ in the databank of your mind.

“See? I’m just like always. I’m okay.”

Even if he was right now, you knew he wouldn’t be. No matter when it would happen – tomorrow, next week or once you were gone. Eventually, he would realise the pain you had caused him and how he couldn’t act nonchalant forever. And then he’d break. Because of your actions. Because of what you did. To him. The love of your life.

“Okay.” You echoed his words, hoping he would eventually be just that. Okay. Get over you and be okay.

There was no way of knowing.

“Okay.”

Meeting your lips, Hyunjin gave you a soothing kiss. As though you would break under too much pressure – like porcelain.

He resumed his previous movement; sliding out of you before sinking himself entirely back in. After the sudden change in atmosphere – a more bittersweet taste coating your tongue – Hyunjin sped up. It didn’t take much of you to figure out that he was trying to distract you from your pain.

And it probably would have worked just fine. Hadn’t it been for that one tear slipping from the corner of his eye. Rolling down his pink cheek and falling onto yours, joining your own as they rolled down your neck.

That’s when you realised. He wouldn’t be okay.

The sun kissed Hyunjin awake in the morning, rays tickling his bare skin as he opened his eyes. He brought his hands to his face, rubbing his eyelids with the back of them. A tired yawn left his mouth as he stretched his arms over his messy hair.

He couldn’t remember when he had fallen asleep. That he had felt calm enough to rest even slightly was a miracle in itself, his mind wide awake most of the night as he tried to get used to the idea of you leaving. Definitely not a nice thought, but he couldn’t let it get to him just yet. After seeing you breaking down mid-intercourse yesterday, he needed to stay strong for you. So you wouldn’t feel as guilty for leaving.

Hyunjin looked to his side as reality slowly caught up with him, finding the rest of the bed deprived of your presence. He figured you had already gotten up, the shower in the next room hitting the tiled wall softly.

Deciding to get a headstart for the day Hyunjin had planned, he left his bed, pulling a pair of sweatpants over his thighs as he looked for the shirt he had worn. It took him a couple of seconds to realise that you must have taken it, grabbing a new shirt out of his dresser with a satisfied smile playing on his face.

Waltzing into the dorm kitchen, Hyunjin discovered Changbin and Jisung’s rooms empty, their doors wide open. They must have gone to the gym already, and knowing Chan, he probably was at the studio. Either already or still – Hyunjin could never be quite sure.

Even though the dorm was empty most days, he never complained about having all this extra space. Especially not today, as he had already painted a mental picture of the last few days with you by his side. Staying in and spending time with each other was at the top of his list, so having the whole living space to yourselves was more than perfect.

After retrieving two fresh cups from the dishwasher, he left them to fill under the coffee machine while searching the fridge. He barely remembered the last meal he ate, so he was positively starving. Some leftover dinner from either of his roommates was stored in containers, and since he knew they wouldn’t be back in the near future, he decided to take it and place it in a clean pan to heat up.

“Baby? I’m making breakfast. You want something?” When there was no answer, Hyunjin repeated his question, approaching the bathroom until he could knock softly on the door. The shower had stopped, but maybe you couldn’t hear him over the sound of your own thoughts. It wouldn’t have been the first time, anyways. “Baby?”

The door opened a second later, his smile fading as he realised it wasn’t you in the bathroom but rather a slightly shorter, definitely broader member of his band. Droplets of water landed on Hyunjin’s face when Chan ruffled his hair under his towel, another sitting low on his hips.

“No baby. Just me.”

Hyunjin could tell so much.

“You know where she is?”

“I haven’t seen her,” Chan replied, leaning against the door frame as Hyunjin hurried to the other bathroom. He knew you preferred the one he shared with Chan as it was bigger and, most importantly, cleaner. Perhaps you had moved to the other one as this one was occupied. “I did hear the front door earlier, though. But that could have been the kids.”

When Hyunjin found the other bathroom as well as the remaining two bedrooms empty, he sped back into his own.

“Jisung told me what happened. Did you make up yesterday?”

“We did. At least, I think we did.” Once out of his room with his phone in hand, Hyunjin found his friend’s eyes. “She’s still leaving, and we broke up. But we talked about it. I thought we were spending the last few days together.”

Hyunjin unlocked his phone and turned off aeroplane mode, his thumb hovering over the call button next to your name. He was about to press it when he noticed a red icon at the bottom of the display, hinting at a new voicemail. Weird, seeing he hadn’t gotten a voicemail in what felt like at least 5 years.

Playing the voicemail instead, he brought his phone to his ear, listening to what he interpreted as your footsteps and a door closing. Finally, your voice appeared. It wasn’t until he heard a sniffle that his heart sank into the pits of his stomach.

“Hi-” your voice broke as you were crying. “I’m so- sorry. I know I said I was okay, but I’m really not. I miss you so much already… I can- can’t.” Whatever you meant, it couldn’t have been good, or else you wouldn’t be so obviously losing control over your emotions. Hyunjin checked the time stamp, realising you had recorded it about 15 minutes earlier. “Fuck. I should have definitely thought about what to say…” A small, sad chuckle followed. “I know we talked about this, and I told you I would leave in two weeks… But I can’t stay. Not when I know how much I hurt you…”

Looking into Chan’s eyes as his heart broke, Hyunjin realised the meaning of your words. You were leaving. Not in two weeks, not tomorrow. Now. He couldn’t let this be the end without getting to at least say goodbye properly, so he sprinted back into his room. He grabbed a pair of sneakers and a jacket, pulling them over his body as he kept your voice right by his ear.

“I’m staying with a friend for the next few days before catching an early flight. All my stuff’s gone anyways, so there’s nothing holding me in my apartment… You’re probably on your way out already, and I obviously can’t dictate what you do. But I’m asking you anyway. Please don’t come after me…” Hyunjin stopped dead in his tracks, Chan’s eyebrows furrowing. “Please don’t make it harder for me or you. This is already breaking us. I don’t think I can handle seeing you again… Not when I know that it will be the last time.”

A single tear escaped Hyunjin’s eyes as he fell onto the couch, eyes focused on a random spot on the blank wall. Chan immediately came to his side, strong arms wrapping around his shoulder.

Hyunjin didn’t react. Couldn’t possibly react when his whole mind was on you.

“I don’t even know why I called you. I just… You deserve a proper goodbye, I think. Even if over the phone… God, I’m such a bitch doing this over the phone, aren’t I? Maybe I should turn around.” You stopped for a few silent seconds, peaking Hyunjin’s hope. But all was for nothing when you picked your pace up. “But I won’t. I’m really sorry. I know this is egoistical of me, and believe me. I hate myself for this.”

Why would you hate yourself when Hyunjin loved you so much. Despite you leaving him. Despite you choosing your career over him. It had always been a possibility; both of you were well aware things could end, given the opportunity. Now that it had, why would you blame yourself?

“I’m…” Again, silence fell over the line, giving Hyunjin a chance to breathe. He hadn’t even realised he had held his breath until the oxygen finally filled his head again. “I love you so much. All of you. Forever. I hope you know this. I don’t think I’ll ever be able to love someone like this again. Not in this lifetime.”

Why didn’t he run after you? Because you had told him not to? No. Perhaps it was the awareness that nothing he said, and nothing he did, could change reality. You were leaving, one way or another. So, why would he ruin what was basically the perfect goodbye? Not this call, obviously. But the last night. Being with you. Loving you. It couldn’t become more perfect than this.

“I will never forget any of the memories we made. I don’t think I can, even if I tried. I won’t forget the way we could talk about art all night. About anything, really. I will forever remember listening to all those songs, singing along, and crying to them. I won’t forget how you always looked at me with so much love. Much more than anyone’s ever given me. The smell of hugging you. The taste of kissing you. All of it is imprinted in my brain. Never to be forgotten. This sounds so sappy, I am very aware of that….”

The laugh escaping your lips – your perfect lips that Hyunjin could never quite stop kissing – made him smile. Even if just for a second, it somewhat healed a piece of his heart and left about 999 others for later reassembling.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is… You are my person. That won’t change. Ever… I love you.”

By now, his whole face was red, swollen from the tears streaming down his cheeks. The only thing holding him together was Chan’s physical support. And your voice. He would listen to your voicemail countless times throughout the next few weeks, though he didn’t know it yet.

You pulled the phone away from your ear just to bring it back once more.

“Oh. And I took your shirt. You know, the one I always borrowed. I hope you’re not too attached to it.” Another smile on his face that healed another broken piece of his heart. No, he wasn’t attached to the shirt. He was attached to the person wearing it. “Okay, that’s it. Bye.”

And just like that, the voicemail ended.

Check out all the other stories in this series here!

Masterlist Leave feedback!

[siennafrxst]

🎄₊ ⊹ ~֒ a christmas surprise

pairing: loki laufeyson x female reader

universe: mcu (marvel cinematic universe)

word count: 0.5k words

cw: domestic christmas fluff

click here to visit my fanfic masterlist.

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

The house is filled with Christmas decorations — ornaments on the artificial tree, luminous lights hanging from the ceiling, and instrumental Christmas melodies surrounding the room — all part of your surprise. Loki claims that he has never celebrated Christmas, however, you, on the other hand, has never missed one day of it. You wanted Loki to experience the warm and merry feelings that fill your heart as you celebrate the iconic holiday.

Suddenly, the entrance door creaks open, causing you to turn towards the sudden disturbance. You smile warmly when your eyes lay on the god of mischief stepping into the house.

“Merry Christmas, love.” You get up from the couch, heading in Loki’s direction.

As Loki closes the door behind him, he admires the unusual additions his girlfriend added to their house. It was nothing he had ever laid his eyes on before. “Darling, what is all this? I thought I already explained this to you on multiple occasions—I do not participate in the celebration of Christmas.”

When he meets your gaze, you promptly respond to his question. “I know, but, I just wanted you to have the opportunity to experience this holiday. Even if it’s just this one time.” You place your hands on the side of his arms, rubbing them gently.

He smiles gratefully at you, seemingly delighted with this unexpected surprise. “Oh, alright. I guess it wouldn’t hurt to try. Especially since you participate in the damn thing.”

You chuckle lightly at his response, relieved and thrilled that you get to spend this Christmas with the person who matters the most in your life.

“So, how shall we begin? I heard that you receive presents. I sincerely hope that presents are involved.”

You giggle at his amusement. “Yes, in fact, there are giving and receiving of gifts. But, we’re still going to do that later.”

Loki frowns at you, giving you a disappointed look. “But that’s the only reason why I’m interested in the absurd holiday!”

“Aww, be patient, love. I promise you that we’ll get there later.”

“How about we do it now?”

“Loki, no!”

“Okay, fine.” 3… 2… 1. “Now?”

“Really, Loki?”

Suddenly, Loki leans in for a quick yet passionate kiss, not even letting you kiss him back. He pulls away, leaving you in shock.

“Now?”

You glare at him flustered and surprised, completely unable to respond from the sudden kiss.

“Darling, I need you functioning to be able to answer me.”

You finally let out a sigh, staring at your desperate boyfriend. He was the God of Mischief, after all — with a touch of romance that only you got to enjoy.

“Okay, how about this: we drink some hot chocolate by the fireplace, maybe listen to some Christmas songs, and then we can get to the gifts. Sound good to you?”

“Hmm.. fine. But no more any longer than that.”

“Okay, I promise.”

You both grin at one another, embracing each other’s presence. You lean in for a tender kiss, Loki finally letting you kiss him back. Your arms instinctivelu wrap around his neck as he pulls you in from the waist.

As you pull away, you connect your foreheads together, silently treasuring this special moment and the moments to come after.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, my princess.”

◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤◢◤

found this old fic lying around (in fact it was my first ever loki fanfic), so I decided to post it bc I’m running out of content.

likes and reblogs are vv appreciated.

[justalonelyslytherin]

Legacies | Nine

Previous Chapter | Masterlist | Next Chapter

Pairing: Jake ‘Hangman’ Seresin x Kazansky!OC

Summary: It's the middle of the night and Jake can't find sleep. In a way, it's a good thing since he'll have to say an unexpected goodbye to Ana, who leaves Top Gun behind in the middle of the night.

Warnings: military inaccuracies, mentions of dying, mentions of parental death/parental loss

Wordcount: 1.5k

If you enjoyed reading this, please consider leaving a comment or reblogging. I don’t allow for my content to be copied, translated, or reposted on other websites/apps. Please don’t steal my work.

A/N: It's Sunday, I know. The chapter is up a day early. The reason for it is that I'm unable to post it tomorrow and I didn't want to be behind on schedule. So instead I'll be ahead of it! If you've read this chapter you can already guess what the next chapter will be about. It's one last, small moment of quiet and peace before shit will hit the fan. Enjoy it <3

Taglist: open, message me or comment to be added, will be put as reblog

1:35 am, Base Lodgings

Everything was quiet. The hallways lay deserted and shrouded in darkness. It was the middle of the night, yet Hangman was awake in his dorm room. On his back, he stared at the ceiling in silent contemplation. His head was cushioned on the arm he’d crossed under his head. His thoughts were keeping him up.

She was keeping him up. 

Images of Ana crying on the tarmac and him holding her resurfaced. They danced across his inner eye, closely followed by her angry expression after the altercation with Rooster. 

It was a drastic contrast. One moment her eyes glistened with unshed tears, her vulnerability evident, laid out bare and open before him. The next her eyes were blazing with a fire that wanted to rage and destroy everything around her, she was guarded and turned away from him. Hidden.

Jake hadn’t been able to stop thinking about either moment since they happened.

It was those thoughts that cost him the valuable sleep he already had little of. Over the years in service he had learned to fall asleep quickly, no matter what had happened minutes, hours, or days before.

Trapped in this loop of memories, Hangman almost missed the noise coming from the hallway. Almost. When there was a clatter coming distinctively from just beside his room, he decided to investigate. Walking over he opened the door into the hallway, expecting it to be empty. 

Looking out Hangman came face to face with the reason for his insomnia. There she stood cursing under her breath, fumbling around in the dim hallway.

“Ana?” Her head shot up, startled by his voice. She must have missed him opening his door.

“Did I wake you up?” Hangman shook his head and stepped next to her into the hallway.

As he closed his door behind him she noticed his state of dress. He was only wearing boxers and a faded shirt from Annapolis.

“What are you doing? It’s the middle of the night.”

Ana had a hard time parting from the view of his strong arms and legs to diverge her attention from back to his face. As his words settled over her, she bit her lip and turned away. The subtle gesture was enough for him to notice the bag sitting in front of her feet. It was her travel back.

The sight alarmed Hangman. With it came a sort of tension quickly building in his body. As he took a step closer to her, his body felt taut enough to rip. At first, Ana refused to look at him. Only when he stood directly in front of her and reached out with his fingers to lift her chin did she look at him. She could barely hold eye contact. 

“You are going.” It wasn’t a question. Hangman was stating the obvious. He sounded upset, his jaw was tensely clenched as he looked at her.

“You quittin’?” The words were nearly poisonously spat out.

Realizing you couldn’t do something and admitting it was a noble act but quitting for no reason was for cowards. Normally Hangman wouldn’t spend a thought on those that quit, they weren’t worth his time and effort. But the prospect of her quitting was making him strangely angry. 

The anger consumed him for a moment, it made him blind to the shaking of her shoulders at first. His anger dissipated instantly when he noticed, taking in her shaky breath. Jake mellowed, he softened at her vulnerability. The whirlwind of emotion in her eyes as she looked up at him nearly threw him off his feet.

“My Dad–,” her voice threatened to give out. He took a step closer to her, his hand itching to reach out. “My mother found him in his study. He was unconscious and not breathing…They–”

“Hey,” he called out softly as her voice gave out, “Take a breath.” Guiding her through the motion until she was able to continue, he never took his eyes off her.

“They managed to bring him back but it doesn’t look good. He has gotten extra oxygen and some medications to ease his breathing but he is rapidly getting worse. The doctor doesn’t think he has much time left. Hours… at maximum a day or two.” 

There was sadness and hurt in her eyes mixed with dread and hesitation. Jake’s heart clenched, he recognized the fight her conscience was fighting.

She wanted to be with her father, she had to be, to spend his last moments with him. But there was the awareness of the mission. How important it was and what little time they had left to prepare for it.

Jake nodded, even though he was aware he couldn’t know how she must be feeling at this moment. “It’s okay.” And while it wasn’t truly okay, the situation was shitty and she wouldn’t be okay for a while, he didn’t know what else to say. “It’s going to be okay. You are not alone in this.”

There they stood, looking at each other, both not knowing what else to say. It was then that Ana’s phone vibrated. She turned to crouch in front of the bag and pulled the phone out.

“I have to go.” 

Standing up she grabbed for her bag. Jake was quick to take the bag from her, muttering “I’ll accompany you out.” It was the least he could do. 

And so he carried the bag for her as they walked down the empty and dark hallways in silence. In front of the dormitory building they stopped. In the distance the headlights of a car could be seen driving up the road toward them.

Jake set the bag down at their feet. They were standing side by side in awkward silence. The car drew nearer and with it Jake’s heartbeat spiked. He felt like he had to say something, to do something, before it arrived and she would go. 

Without thinking about it, he stepped closer to her and drew her into his arms. Ana’s body felt warm and soft against him as his arms were wrapped tightly around her back. The motion had surprised her but after a moment she returned the hug. Jake could feel her head lean against his shoulder, feel her breath graze his throat. 

He was wracking his brain to say something, to cheer her up if possible, to tell her his condolences or even to ask if she would be returning – if he would see her again – but no words would leave his mouth. Swallowing felt impossible, there was this lump in his throat that wouldn’t go away, no matter how much he tried.

And then it was too late.

He heard the door of the car open, causing Ana to end the hug. Even if hesitantly, she pulled away, her hands letting go of him. The warmth of her body against his vanishing left him feeling cold.

Ana looked at him and it took all in Jake not to pull her back into the building, to have her stay, and to talk about what happened just before that between them. She hadn’t talked or looked at him since the altercation with Rooster, no matter how much he had tried to pull her attention. Now she was going before he could make it up before he could explain himself and get her to see what he had tried to do.

“I’ll see you,” Ana mumbled tentatively. It was more of a question than a statement. The uncertainty in her voice made him ache. This couldn’t be how they parted, how they saw each other for the last time possibly. Against everything in him, Jake simply nodded, tense and rooted to the spot.

He watched her pick up her back and walk down the steps. Ana reached the last step when Jake finally found the strength to move. Bounding down behind her, he grabbed her hand. In surprise, she looked back at him.

“I’m...sorry.” He told her, earnestly and honestly. Heavy emotions swam in her eyes, tears clouded the pretty color of them as her bottom lip wobbled. She couldn’t speak, couldn’t answer him, too choked up, but what she could do was squeeze his hand. There was the barest quip of her lip in what was the closest she could muster to a smile in this heavy situation.

Jake understood, nodding and squeezing back. The moment ended too soon with their hands pulling apart. His fell to his side as he watched her turn around. 

Ana walked with quick feet toward the car, where another person stood and waited for her. They took her bag, putting it into the trunk as she entered the passenger's side. Before she sat down and closed the door, she looked back once more at him. Jake still stood there, motionless. He couldn’t quite see her expression but he felt her eyes on his once more.

The click of the door was quiet, the car quickly driving off.

Jake watched it drive away until he no longer could see it in the dark.

[something-tofightfor]

Competing For Christmas 5: Holly Jolly Christmas (The Date)

Pairing: Modern Din Djarin x Female Reader

Word Count: 11,872

Rating: M. Specifically for language and a few vaguely sexual situations.

Summary: Helping Din pick out his first Christmas tree is the perfect beginning to your first date ... is the rest of the night the same? 

Author’s notes:

Had to split this chapter into two - but let’s be honest, the date itself is the most important half of it. 

Questions, concerns, comments? My inbox is open!

Thank you all so VERY much for the support and interest in this story - it’s been my happy place for the last few weeks, and I’m so glad that it’s been the same for so many of you. 

To get alerted when I post new chapters/stories, follow @somethingtofightfor-shares​ and turn on post notifications - you can also ask to be added to my tag list (link in bio or at the top of my taglist reblog)

Mando’a translations at the end!

Masterlist  / Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4

Despite the fact you you and Din had blown past the hastily drawn lines of your friendship the previous weekend, both of you were extraordinarily busy at work the week following the cookie event and didn’t have much time to talk while at the office. 

And after hours, your evenings were filled with Christmas prep - a little shopping, wrapping presents with a glass of wine and by the light of your tree, making and freezing your appetizers for the Christmas Eve celebration at your aunt’s, and organizing and beginning to write out your Christmas cards. It was a lot, and it kept you occupied until it was time to climb into bed every night. 

But just because you didn’t see Din, that didn’t mean that you didn’t talk to him. 

The two of you texted back and forth often, sending back typed and voice messages throughout the afternoons and evenings, and even though neither of you could stop and talk for more than a few seconds at a time, you made it a point to say hello in person each day, the man’s bright smile and the deep dimple in one cheek lightening your mood more than you’d thought possible. 

You’d excitedly sent him the updated ranking on the competition site as soon as it was posted on Monday, your team name at the top and in first place, your lead fifteen points. He’d sent back a message showing you the contents of his shopping cart, the top basket filled with a variety of dog treats and toys and captioned “someone’s gonna enjoy our winnings” with a winking smiley face at the end. 

You were glad that Din was taking your suggestion literally and spending the money on Grogu, and so when, later in the week, you’d gotten another picture of the dog stretched out on the floor and sound asleep with a large bone tucked between his paws, you’d immediately saved it - and then spent the next few hours randomly opening it to look again and again. 

You had it bad for Din, and you knew it. The kisses you’d shared the previous week had only made you more aware of your feelings, and despite the fact that things hadn’t gone any further, part of you wished that they had. 

Not because you wanted to rush into anything with him, but because it had felt right to be in his arms, the man’s lips moving with yours until you’d both needed to breathe. He didn’t push for more, either. 

You laid in bed on Thursday night, staring up at the ceiling in your darkened bedroom - and like the previous nights, you thought of Din. 

You thought of Din and how understanding he was, of the way he’d been respectful of you, even when it was clear that he’d wanted to touch you and continue kissing you, though he’d pulled away and insisted that he leave instead. You imagined what it would be like to lay next to him, to fall asleep with the heat of his body warming you instead of your heated mattress topper, and you understood how dangerous those kinds of thoughts were to have about someone that you barely knew - only a month and a half out of what had been a serious relationship for you. 

I can’t help it, though. Rolling onto your side, you reached out for your phone, groaning as you saw that it was after midnight. “I’m going to be so tired tomorrow.” And you didn’t want to be - you wanted to be well rested for your date with Din, alert and aware of what was happening, even though you’d be spending almost two hours in silence in the confines of a darkened movie theater. I’ll still be with him. 

Checking one final time that your alarm was set, you went to put your phone down when a message came through, the vibration startling you - though the name at the top of the screen didn’t surprise you as much as it should have.

Hope I’m not waking you up, but I wanted to tell you I’m looking forward to tomorrow night. 

It made you smile, and even though you knew that you shouldn’t have replied, you couldn’t help it. 

Not sleeping. I’m excited, too. 

It took a few seconds but his reply made you grin, your eyes squeezing shut as you tightened your grip on your phone. 

Good. A second message came through almost immediately, another single word lighting up the screen. Goodnight. 

“Goodnight, Din.” Darkening the screen with one push of the side button, you set the phone down and pulled your blanket up to your chin, the smile still on your face. 

You were asleep moments later, and didn’t wake up until your alarm went off. 

— 

To say that Friday had been a difficult day at work would have been an understatement. 

By the time you were shutting everything down and heading for the doors of your building, you were rapidly reaching your breaking point, trying to get out of the office before anyone else could ask anything of you. 

But before you made it to the parking lot, you heard someone calling your name. What now? When you turned, expecting to see one of your coworkers chasing you down, you were met with the sight of Din hurrying toward you, his coat flung over one shoulder. Oh, thank God. “Hey, Din.” Leaning against the wall, you smiled at him. “What’s going on?”

“Wanted to catch you before you left.” He wet his lips, running his free hand through his hair. “We still good for tonight? Is he trying to cancel? 

“Yeah. I’ve been looking forward to it all week.” Blinking rapidly, you sighed. “Why? Did something -” 

“It’s been…” He blew out a breath, closing his eyes. “It’s been a really long day, and I just wanted to make sure.” 

“Din.” Straightening up, you, gestured for him to put on his coat and follow you outside. “Tonight is quite literally the only good thing I’ve had to think about all day today.” 

“Yeah?” His smile was broad, the man zipping up his jacket as the two of you crossed the parking lot. “OK, good.” When you reached your car - parked only a few spots down from his truck, you both stopped, Din saying your name. “So the trees tonight. Are … can I bring Grogu? Are they precut? Do I need to bring an axe or something?” 

“Yeah, you can bring Grogu. There are some that are pre cut, but others you can chop down. They have tools at the place if you need them, so no you don’t need to bring anything.” Shivering, you pulled your coat tighter around your body. “The tree place is on your side of town, so if you want me to come over there so we can leave from your house, I can do that.” 

“Ok.” He wet his lips. “What time? Figured we could grab dinner and go to a late movie, since the snowman thing isn’t until tomorrow night.” 

“I’m meeting Cara and Stacy at noon tomorrow to shop, so that works.” You cleared your throat. “So I’ll go home and change, and then head over?” 

“Can’t wait.” He smiled at you, glancing up at the sky, the clouds gray and threatening snow, even though it hadn’t actually started yet. “Text me before you leave your house?” You assured him that you would and then reached into your bag, grabbing for your keys. 

Din stopped your motion, though, reaching for your elbow and tightening his fingers around it. “Din?” 

“I really … am excited for tonight.” He swallowed, lines appearing on his forehead when he frowned briefly. “I hope you don’t think that I’m not.” Why would I think that? 

“Haven’t been this excited for a date in a long time, Din.” Leaning in, you angled your head so that you could kiss his cheek, his grip on you tightening further. “Now let me go home so I can get ready.” He grumbled but released your arm when you pulled away from him, unlocking your car. “See you in a little while, Djarin.” 

He stood next to his truck while you backed out of your parking space, the man raising one hand in a slow wave that you returned before you drove off. 

The kiss had been a bold move on your part - a show of affection that you didn’t know if he was comfortable with, despite the fact that he’d actually kissed you in the community center the previous weekend. He would have stopped me if he didn’t want it. You nodded as you stopped at a red light, eyes closing briefly. And he didn’t even move this afternoon. 

Twisting the knob on your radio so that you could actually hear the music playing, you didn’t even try to keep the smile from your face at the realization that in less than two hours, you’d be on an actual date with Din - one that didn’t involve planning for the competition or attending an event. 

— 

When you pulled up to the tree lot, you were pleased to see that it wasn’t as busy as you’d thought it would be. Probably will be tomorrow. Grogu bumped into the seat behind you as he moved to look out the window, and you heard a quiet whine coming from him, the noise the first that he’d made since the three of you had gotten into the truck ten minutes earlier. 

“You ready?” Din grinned at you from the driver’s seat, turning his head to look at you. “And something I forgot to ask is whether or not they sell tree stands here, because I don’t have one of those.” Ah, shit. 

“They usually do.” Rubbing your hand over the top of your knee, you nodded. “Maybe not the ones that actually have the place for the water in them, but that’s easy enough to fix with a bowl or a baking dish.” 

“You’re going to teach me so much.” His smile grew into a grin. “I knew I asked the right person to come with me.” Laughing, you agreed and then reached for the door, Din’s hand shooting out to stop your movement. “Hey.” 

Pausing, you looked back at him, staying quiet. Yeah? 

“After last weekend, I don’t know what the … how we do this.” Gesturing between your bodies with one hand, he continued. “I know you kissed me earlier, but is … can I… are we…” 

“Are you trying to tell me that you want to kiss me again, Din?” Cocking your head to one side, you bit the corner of your lip. “Because I definitely wouldn’t be opposed to it.” You’d been thinking about it all week - wanting more of what had happened in your kitchen and in the hallway at the community center, and with your permission, Din didn’t keep you waiting. 

Leaning over the center console, Din raised one hand to cup your jaw and bring you closer, the warmth in his eyes visible even though it was fully dark out, the cab of the truck illuminated only by the parking lot lights and the bright white bulbs stretched out above the trees. “I was hoping you’d say that.” He mumbled the words before he pressed his mouth to yours, a quick inhale through your nose all you managed before he began to kiss you in earnest. 

He didn’t deepen it, but his mouth did move, lips closing around your bottom one and sucking gently before he grazed it with his teeth, his hand sliding back and toward your hairline, the tips of his fingers curling slightly. 

Before it could intensify, a shout from outside startled you, Din jumping backwards and straightening up, his eyes wide. “What w-”

“A kid.” You pressed your lips together and closed your eyes, the heat in your cheeks making you shiver. “Probably saw all the trees, and couldn’t help themselves and…”

“Well then we should get out and make sure they don’t get the best one on the lot.” He sighed, releasing an unsteady breath. “And so we don’t spend the next few hours in here with -”

“We do have plans to get to.” Wrinkling your nose, you reached for the door again. “And I am going to be hungry, so…” 

Moments later, the two of you were walking across the parking lot side by side, Grogu’s leash held tightly in one of Din’s gloved hands. “Where should we start? He pointed. “Cut your own? Pre-cut? The barn?” 

“Why don’t we go to the cut your own first?” You touched his arm, fighting the urge to reach up and brush snowflakes off of his shoulder. “Lots of the families with kids steer clear of that side because wrangling a kid and an axe at the same time is kind of difficult, so…” He laughed but let you lead him off to the right, the freshly-fallen snow crunching beneath your feet. “I told you we’d have snow for the snowmen.” Bumping his shoulder with yours, you went on. “Have you seen the area they roped off for it?” 

“No.” He was eyeing trees as you walked down one of the aisles, his attention moving between them and Grogu, the dog pulling on the leash as he veered off to sniff the pine needles  on every tree you passed, his tail wagging furiously. “Have you?” 

“They posted pictures. I’ll show you later.” The event organizers had blocked off a large section of land in the park area at the center of town, dividing it into eight smaller sections and secluding them from view at the beginning of the week. “But all the snow we’ve gotten this week is perfect. And if we get a couple more inches tonight and tomorrow, it’ll be even better.” 

“You’re the expert there.” He whistled, the sound sharp. “Norac, Grogu.” The dog listened immediately - coming back to stand next to Din’s leg as a large family passed you, one of the younger children pointing at Grogu and squealing loudly. “Jate bora.”  

You kept walking, reaching out every so often to touch the needles on the branches, but you were determined not to lead Din into choosing a tree, hoping that the man would find something that he liked on his own. He followed you closely, eyes remaining on you the entire time you walked, but neither of you stopped until you reached the end of the third row, Din saying your name quietly. “Hmm?” 

“I have no idea what I’m looking for here.” He wet his lips, running a hand over his chin, his yellow-tipped black leather gloves catching your attention. “All these trees look the same, and -”

“Pick one that you like the shape of.” You sighed. “Pick one that doesn’t have a big bare spot, and that stands up straight. One that you can hang some lights and ornaments on.” Wait. “Do you have lights and ornaments? If this is your first tree…”

“I bought some from the store. They’re getting delivered tomorrow.” He nodded, looking pleased with himself. “Couple hundred lights, a few boxes of ornaments.” Ok, good. “Which one would you pick?” He moved closer, eyes on your face. “I know you have a fake tree now, but -”

“Din this isn’t my tree, though.” Your heartbeat quickened, lips parting at the implication of his question. “It’s -”

“I’m asking you for help.” He wet his lips. “And I don’t like asking people for help.” 

“Alright.” It was snowing harder, the flakes collecting on the branches, and your attention was drawn to Grogu, the dog sitting on his haunches and gazing up at the sky, nose twitching as he sniffed the chilly air. “Alright, Din. Let’s pick you a tree.” 

You started walking again, but instead of trailing behind Din, you walked next to him, pointing trees out as you passed them and stopping a few times to circle some, Din and Grogu following you closely. He reached out, touching your back and arm on more than one occasion, the man leaning in to smell the needles over your shoulder, the scent of his cologne overwhelming your senses. God, I like this. 

“Should we go to the other section?” You were back where you started, the crowd of people also looking for trees getting larger the later it got. “Neither of us saw anything that we really liked.” 

“Yeah.” We have to find something. We have to pick a tree. “The precut ones might be a better option, since you can see how they’ll sit when they aren’t still in the ground.” 

And so you did - the three of you heading over to the area where the trees were already cut and ready to be baled, Din immediately heading over to one that was just under 8 feet tall, the needles a deep, dark green. “How’s this one? I like the shape.” 

“It’s nice. But did you see this?” You stepped toward the back, pointing. “There’s a big bare spot.” You watched his face fall, Din nodding in resignation. “You could always turn it toward the back,” you went on, peering at it. ‘And I could show you how to hide it with lights, and -”

“You could.” His expression changed into a smile, Din pulling a glove off with his teeth to trail his fingers over the pointed ends of the branches. “If you wanted.” 

“I…” You did want. You wanted to very much, the idea of helping the man decorate his first tree something that you hadn’t even previously considered. But now it’s going to be all I think about. “I’d like that, Din.” Swallowing before you spoke, you took a deep breath and met his eyes. “I’d really like that.” 

He stared at you for long moments in the softly falling snow, and without thinking, you stepped closer to him, reaching out with one hand - like you were going to take his. But before you could, your boot caught a slick patch on the ground - a frozen puddle that was coated with a thin layer of snow - and you felt yourself falling, both arms flailing as your mouth opened in a gasp of surprise. Shit. 

Before you hit the ground, though, Din’s arms shot out and caught you, one arm curling around your waist and the fingers of the other hand - the one that he’d removed the glove from - twisting into the material of your coat and keeping you upright. “Cuyir ulyc! Careful!” He shouted the word, Grogu barking as the leash slipped from Din’s hand to around his wrist, his eyes never leaving your face. 

“Din, I -” He held you close, the toe of your boot finally finding purchase on the solid - non slippery - ground. “Thank you. That would have sucked if I’d gone down.” 

“You’re welcome.” He took a deep breath, pulling you closer. “No way I would have let you fall.” You believed him - the man’s strong arms and broad chest reinforcing the fact that he could back up what he was saying. I wish there weren’t so many layers between us. “If I let you go, are you alright to stand?”

“Y… yeah. Sorry.” Rolling your eyes at yourself, you covered your face with one hand as you straightened up, clearing your throat. “I’m usually not so clumsy, but the ground’s slippery, and…”

“I trip all the time.” He laughed, beginning to walk forward and away from the first tree. “Sometimes over nothing, so the fact that it took ice to get you off your feet? Impressive.” It made you laugh, relaxing you at the same time. “At home, when it snows, it usually doesn’t take too long to clear the streets and sidewalks, but something like this?” He gestured at the lot, glancing over to meet your eyes again. “We don’t have anything like this, so I have no idea how it’d be there. “ 

“Where’s home, Din?” It slipped out before you could consider the question, your eyes still scanning the trees as you stepped through them. “You’ve mentioned that you’re not from here a couple times, but never really said where you lived before.” He stayed quiet for a long time, and just as you opened your mouth to tell him not to worry about answering, you heard him sigh. 

“I’m from a small country overseas, but I spent a lot of my childhood traveling. My ali- my family is in politics, so we moved around a lot.” Oh. I wasn’t expecting that. “But the language that I taught Grogu in? It’s called Mando’a, and it’s a language that my… that the people in my country use.” 

“That makes sense.” The two of you stopped again, next to a sturdy looking Balsam fir tree and faced each other, Din’s expression once again worried. But why? “Why’d you leave?” That hadn’t been what he was expecting - you could tell by the way his eyes widened, but Din’s answer came smoothly, the man shrugging his shoulders. 

“Needed a change. Like I said, my family’s been in politics my whole life, and I didn’t want any part of it, so I left Mandalore and came here.” Mandalore… hmm. 

“I’ve never heard of Mandalore, Din. I’m sorry.” 

“It’s really small. Not many people have.” His smile came back, though it was more subdued than it had been earlier. “That’s actually where I went over the summer. Home. Had a little bit of a family emergency, and they needed me there to handle it.” 

“So I was partially right.” You grinned. “I’m glad you got it taken care of and were able to come back.” 

“I am too.” His attention shifted back to the trees briefly. “If I was home right now, we wouldn’t be here with you.” His words hit you hard, and to your surprise, Din reached out with one hand, draping his arm over your shoulders. “I like this one, by the way.” 

“Yeah?” He nodded, slipping Grogu’s leash from his hand and passing it to you before removing his arm. “It does have a good shape.” You tightened your hold on the handle of it, glancing down at the dog, who was watching Din, tongue lolling out of his mouth. 

“It does.” He stepped away from you and circled the tree, both hands reaching out to shake the trunk gently. “And there’s no bare spot back here. Looks straight.” He peeked at you from behind the tree, the smile back and taking over his entire face. “How’s this one?” 

“It’s your tree, Din.” You liked it too, the top almost a perfect point, the triangular shape one that you would have gravitated to as well. “But I approve.” He nodded, still looking at you from behind the branches. “Do you want me to go and -”

“No. Hang on.” He disappeared for a second and then reappeared - the tree still between you. “Here.” Din held his phone out. “Take a picture of me with this. I want to send it to my friends. They still can’t believe I’m doing all of this Christmas stuff, and …” Din trailed off and you took his phone from him, opening the camera app and snapping a few pictures of him standing next to the tree, one hand on his hip. “Grogu. Olaror.” 

Dropping the leash, you let the dog go, taking a step back so that you could get both of them in the picture before snapping a few. “Got ‘em, Din.” You flipped back through the images, eyes on the screen. “I think there’s a couple of …” You trailed off as you accidentally scrolled back one image too far, your face popping up onto the screen. What is… “Din? Why do you -”

“You weren’t supposed to…” He swore, bending over to grab the leash again and then moved to stand next to you, reaching for his phone. “I was…” He has a picture of me on his phone. And it’s not the one from the competition website, it’s one from my Instagram, and that means he … “After I sent that one of you and the cookies to Fennec, she said she wanted to see what you looked like, so I found that one, and …” 

“Did you tell her you kissed me under mistletoe, too?” Smirking at him, you arched a brow. “Or that I kissed you in my kitchen?”

“Yes.” Din didn’t look away. “Told another friend about that, too. About you.” Din blinked slowly, but you were frozen in place, staring at the man. “Fett says that it’s a surprise, but …” Fett? What kind of a name is that? It has to be a last name. “That he’s happy for me.” 

“I haven’t said anything to anyone.” You whispered the words, blinking to clear away snowflakes that had settled on your lashes. ‘I didn’t think -” 

“He’s my oldest friend. And I trust her with my life.” Din stepped back toward you, Grogu following. “But yes, they know about you.” I didn’t know that there was anything to know except that we’re partners but maybe I … “I hope that’s alright.” 

“Yeah.” Warmth bloomed in your chest beneath the layers you wore, the cold and snowy night suddenly much less so, and you stepped closer to Din again, careful to keep your footing. “Yeah, that’s fine, Din.” 

Leaning in, you kissed him gently - lips pressed to his, your hand settling against his chest. This feels too easy. It’s too fast. It can’t.. It can’t be this simple. When you pulled away, Din was smiling, the expression reaching his eyes. “Good.” He opened his mouth to continue but then his eyes darted away from yours before they came back, the happiness in them shifting to a look of apology. “There’s a bunch of people coming. Stay here with our tree while I go and get one of those carts.” Our tree?

Instead of questioning him, though, you nodded, absently reaching for Grogu’s leash again as Dn turned to walk back toward the cashiers and the barn. “He’ll be right back, Grogu.” Kneeling down, you rested one knee on the wooden frame that supported the trees, keeping it off the ground. “Are you having a good time, pal?” The dog looked up at you and then rose onto his hind legs, paws on your knee. “I like your dad, buddy. I like him a lot. And I think he likes me too.” 

Grogu inched closer, sniffing your face before he licked it, and you laughed at the sensation, grinning as you wound your arms around his neck and ducked your head to pull him closer. “He doesn’t usually like that.” Din spoke up from behind you, laughter in his voice. “I can’t believe he’s letting you do that.” 

“It’s a Christmas miracle.” Separating from the dog, you stood, turning to look at Din, the man gripping the handle of one of the metal-framed transport carts. “I’m glad there was one of those free. Carrying this thing all the way to your truck would have sucked.” He nodded in agreement and moved closer to where you stood, patiently waiting for a couple and their small daughter to pass. 

“The guy at the front said he could come help, but that if I didn’t need it, I could just lift it myself and wheel it up there.” 

“Yeah, the tag’s color coded for the price.” You pointed to the plastic orange ribbon near the top of the tree. “Here, let me get him out of the way.” You tugged on Grogu’s leash, the two of you stepping into the empty space that had been occupied by an already purchased tree. Keeping your eyes on Din, you watched as he stepped forward and then reached down, sticking his hands between the branches so that he could grip the trunk of the tree and lift it. 

It moved easily in his hold and you sucked in a breath at the sight of him hoisting the tree off of the base, the man grunting as it came free. He’s lifting that like it’s nothing. Din turned, the tree still in his arms, and let it drop into the cart, which was more like a dolly with a small basket at the bottom for the trunk to rest in. “Maker that’s prickly.” Fighting back a laugh, you and Grogu moved to stand next to Din, one of your hands reaching out to touch the branches. 

“It’ll be worth it though. This is going to look good in your house.” Wonder where he’ll put it. 

The three of you headed back down the path and toward the pay station, Din once again lifting it onto the table so that the employee could push it through the baler, the man setting it back onto the cart as a second employee talked to Din about payment for the tree and a stand. 

It was still snowing while you made your way back to Din’s truck, fat white flakes that dropped almost lazily from the sky and while he loaded the tree into the back of the truck, you turned your face up, a small smile tugging at the corners of your lips. “We should go.” Din stood next to you, the pressure of his hand at the center of your back surprising you. “Gotta drop the little guy and the tree off, and then I need some food.” 

“Yeah.” Turning your head toward him, you  agreed. “Dinner sounds amazing right now.” 

The ride back to Din’s place was a quiet one, Grogu curling up in the back seat almost immediately and Din’s focus on the road, the headlights from oncoming cars highlighting his features as they passed. 

But even though neither of you said much, that didn’t change the fact that the moment you’d both been settled into your seats and buckled in, one of Din’s gloved hands had reached for yours, your fingers slotting together - and staying that way.  

---

The tree fit perfectly in the room with the fireplace, though it was set up a safe distance away. 

Once the two of you had carried it and the stand inside, you’d worked together to get it situated on the base, Din following your advice and using a drill to make a hole in the center of the trunk to help it absorb water. He needs a tree skirt. You made the decision as you stepped back to make sure it wasn’t crooked, Din bent over and tightening the eye bolts against the trunk. “Looks good, Din. You might want to turn it a little bit, but you can do that when you put the lights on.” 

“When we put the lights on.” He stood, brushing his hands off on his pants. “You said you were going to help me.” I did, didn’t I. Agreeing, you raised your hand to the back of your neck, staring at the tree in front of you. 

“You might want to put a sheet down around the base until you get a tree skirt, otherwise you’ll have needles everywhere.” Gesturing to the floor, you looked over at Din. “Unless you ordered one with the lights, because if you did, it should be alright for one night.”

“I didn’t.” He frowned. “Shit.”

“I can grab one while I’m shopping tomorrow, if you want, and give it to you when I see you tomorrow night?” Crossing your arms over your chest, you turned your entire body to face his. “Give Grogu something soft to lay on?” 

“You don’t have to do that. I can go to the store tomorrow and get one.” He pushed his sleeves up, the tendons in his hands flexing with the motion. “Maybe grab some extra ornaments because I really don’t think I ordered enough.” 

“I have extras.” Your smile widening, you held up a hand. “Boxes of them, Din. They’re ones that got passed down to me but that I don’t use because I never have room on my tree.” Wrinkling your nose, you shrugged. “They’re nothing special, just round, multi-colored glass balls, but they’re good filler.” 

“Thank you.” He glanced over at the tree and the back at you. “I’d appreciate that.” 

“Don’t mention it.” You turned your attention back to the tree, both of you going quiet. The silence was interrupted a few seconds later though, the sound of Din’s stomach rumbling loud. “We should do something about that.” He looked embarrassed but nodded, checking the time on the clock above the mantle. 

“Lunch was a long time ago.” It was. “Let me put some food out for Grogu and then we can go.” 

You followed him into the kitchen, slipping your coat back on and zipping it while he filled the food and water bowls, though Grogu didn’t move from his place on the recliner, his body curled into a tight circle and his nose resting on his paws. 

The snow had stopped by the time you were heading back out to the truck, both of you sliding into the still-warm cab and getting settled. “Tonight’s been great.” You leaned your head back and then looked over at him, watching as Din reversed into the street. “I hope you’re having fun.” 

“I am.” He didn’t try to take your hand again, instead keeping both of them on the steering wheel. “I guess I never really thought about doing anything like this before, but after the last couple weeks, I’m really glad that I am.” 

“I was just talking about tonight, but I’ll take it.” He snorted, but didn’t say anything else. “I’m glad we’re doing this, too.” I really am. 

When you parked at the restaurant a few minutes later, you were happy to see that the parking lot wasn’t too busy, Din able to pull into a spot close to the entrance. That was a good thing, since it had started snowing again, much lighter than it had been coming down earlier - but the less distance you had to cover, the less likely it was that you’d slip and fall again. 

After being seated, you explained to the server that you were there to use your prize from the trivia contest. Once she knew who you were, she outlined what the overall limitations of the prize were before she stepped away from the table, leaving you to look over the menus

Forty minutes later, Din spoke up and voiced the thoughts you’d been having the entire time you were in the restaurant. 

“You know, I was figuring we’d get an appetizer and entrees plus a drink, but…” Din gestured to the spread in front of you - head shaking back and forth. “This is almost too much food.” 

You agreed. Each of you had ordered an appetizer along with an entree, and you had dessert coming, too. “I mean, it’s a good way to try more of the menu, but still…” Pushing your plate away, you closed your eyes briefly. “I probably didn’t need to order so much.” 

“It’s going to be really hard to sit through a movie after eating all of this.” He groaned, swiping his thumb over the corner of his mouth. “We didn’t plan well.”

“No.” You sucked air in through your teeth, eyes on him. “We did not.” You wanted to see a movie - wanted to continue the night with him, had no desire to separate … but also knew that the moment the lights went down, there was a good chance you’d fall asleep. “Din…

“Maybe we should go and see that movie some other time.” He frowned, a look of disappointment flashing in his eyes. “I hate to -”

“We could always watch a movie while we decorate the tree?” You picked up a french fry, taking a bite and chewing thoughtfully. “It won’t be the same, but at least we won’t risk falling asleep or being uncomfortable, or…” He leaned closer, eyes on you. “Or wasting the tickets because neither of us are paying attention.” 

“We’ll still have the tickets, though. So that means -” He took a sip of his drink, pausing for dramatic effect as he swallowed. “That means you’ll have to see two movies with me.” 

“I don’t think I’d mind that much.” Tapping the tines of your fork on your plate, you kept your eyes on Din. “I like spending time with you.” It was the right thing to say, the man’s soft smile turning into a full-blown grin. 

“You’re just saying that because I’m a good competition partner. If we’d lost trivia, you’d be somewhere else right now.” 

“You’re right.” You leaned closer. “Because if we’d lost trivia, we wouldn’t have gotten to come back here and eat for free.” Din laughed at your words, tilting his head back and exposing the column of his neck to you, your eyes drawn to the smooth expanse of skin. “I don’t know why you’re laughing, it’s true.” 

“I know it is.” He looked at you again before closing his eyes and nodding. “Damn, this is …” He swore quietly, taking another drink. “Is it always this easy?”

“No.” You answered truthfully, picking up your napkin and twisting it between your fingers. “It’s not, Din.” He swiped a hand over his face, dragging it over his cheeks and chin, but Din never looked away from you, the man’s eyes locked on yours. “Can I ask you something?” 

“Yeah.” He waited, hands flat on the table. Do you really want to ask this? You weren’t sure, but knew that you needed to, for your own sake. 

“Why me? Why after all these months, did you say yes to me when I know damn well that plenty of women have tried to ask you out since you’ve been here and you’ve turned them all down?” He took a few seconds to think, but when he replied, the response wasn’t what you expected. 

“I wanted to ask you out a while ago, but I knew I couldn’t because you were with someone. I didn’t know it at first, but after working here for a month? I knew about James. I knew you’d been with him for a while, and so I figured I’d keep it professional.” But that doesn’t answer my question. “I didn’t come here to try and date someone. I wasn’t… I’m not looking for quick and meaningless. I just wanted …” He trailed off, looking down. “I wanted to see what it was like being over here and having a normal job and making friends, and …” 

Scooting your chair in, you kept your eyes on the man. “That still doesn’t answer my question, though. Once you found out that I was with someone, there were a ton of other people to choose from. And I’m sure most of them wouldn’t have wanted to just … hook up or whatever, Din. Especially after getting to know you a little.” 

“You’re probably right.” He shrugged, the motion of his upper body casual, though his voice was not. “And there were a couple times I almost said yes to women when they asked, but it just never … when I thought about it, I didn’t need to date anyone.” No one needs to date anyone, Din. 

“Ok, but -” 

“And when you asked, I said yes because I wanted to. I knew you weren’t just trying to sleep with me, and I thought … fuck, it makes me sound so damn selfish.” He rested his elbow on the table and then leaned forward, rubbing at his forehead. “I thought we could get to know each other and keep it … friendly.” 

“Oh, I plan on keeping this very friendly.” You reached out, laying your hand on the one of his that was still on the table. “Haven’t I done that so far?” 

“I can honestly say that I haven’t ever kissed one of my friends the way you kissed me in your kitchen last week.” Din winked at you, his lips twitching into a smirk for fleeting seconds before settling back into a neutral expression. “Maybe that means I have a lot to learn about living here, but … I don’t think so.” 

His words made you laugh and after a few seconds, Din joined you, flipping his hand over to squeeze yours. “I’m perfectly fine with going back to how it was, Din. Just say the word, and -” 

“Nayc. No.” He ran his thumb over the inside of your wrist, moving it slowly. “I don’t know why you are different. I don’t know why after so long it felt right to say yes when you asked me. But I wasn’t lying to you when I said that I just wanted to see you happier again.” He let go of your hand, bringing his up and dragging his fingers through his hair. “And it seems like you have been.” 

“I have.” Admitting it wasn’t as difficult as you thought it would be, the words flowing out of your mouth without pause. “When James and I broke up, there was a week or so where I thought we might get back together. I missed him, or at least I thought I did. But then I realized…” You picked up another fry, dragging the end of it through a puddle of ketchup on your plate. “I just missed spending time with someone and enjoying it, and the more I thought about that, the more I realized I felt the same way even when I was with James.” 

It was the first time you’d admitted that, and it felt good to say it out loud. “What would you have done if he’d asked you to marry him?” He picked up his glass again, the ice cubes clinking against his teeth as he took a long sip. “Three years together is a long time, right?”

“It is.” A really long time. “Everyone was surprised we weren’t married or engaged, but I don’t … I don’t know what I would have said, and I think it’s because a part of me always knew he wouldn’t ever ask.” 

“You don’t deserve that.” Din said your name, a long pause afterward. “No one deserves to be led on for that long in a relationship.” 

“It is what it is, Din. And look…” You finished your drink, holding the glass in one hand as you continued. “It was a learning experience, and -”

“Bullshit.” He rolled his eyes. “A learning experience doesn’t take that long.” It shouldn’t. ‘If you’re with someone for that long, you know whether or not you want to be with them. And if you don’t see a future…” He shrugged. “You tell them so they can move on and find someone that does.” 

 “So you’d take less than three years to propose to someone?” He nodded. “Lucky woman.” It slipped out before you could stop yourself, but as soon as the words left your mouth, you raised your hand to cover it, eyes going wide. Shit, I just … Oh no. “I just mean…” 

“I know what you mean.” He inhaled, nodding at you without looking away. “If you know you want to be with someone, why wait until enough time has passed?” 

“And you know what?” You finished your fries, pushing your plate to the side. “Like I said before, it’s not even that I need to get married, or need that type of commitment. I just … I guess I want to know that the person I’m with… that they’re thinking about a future with me in it.” Wait, though, he might think you mean this, too. “But.” You held up a finger, trying to lighten the mood. “That doesn’t mean I wouldn’t want to date casually. I’m not naive enough to think that you just end up with the first person you date, or that sometimes things won’t work out even after you’ve been together for a while. I just…” 

“You don’t need to explain yourself.” He leaned back in his chair, still watching you. “You just want to know someone isn’t wasting your time.”  Yeah. That’s exactly it. “I have no interest in wasting anyone’s time.” He spoke quietly, leaning back in toward you. “I hope you know that.” Oh, I… 

You stiffened, unable to do anything but look at Din, but that passed quickly, allowing you to draw in a deep breath. “Thanks for that.” But that means you need to be honest with him, too. “Din, I just want to let you know that I don’t want to waste your time, either. I don’t… I don’t know what I’m ready for, or what I’m looking for, or -”

“I know.” He sucked an ice cube from his glass into his mouth, nodding. “It’s only been a couple weeks, right? We’ll get there.” Does that mean… Despite your growing closeness - the kisses and touching, the late night text messages and the increased time spent together, part of you had still doubted that what was going on with Din could ever be more than anything casual. Because he’s never acted like he wanted anything like that with anyone. “You have to get to know someone before you figure out whether or not you can be with them, right?”

“Right.” That put you at ease - Din wanted to get to know you, and was aware of where you stood when it came to what you eventually hoped for … and he was still sitting across from you, watching you with a kind smile on his face and genuine interest in his eyes. “Din, I never meant for it to -”

“I’m glad it did.” He wet his lips, the tip of his tongue flashing pink against them. “And by the way, I consider this an actual date, so…” 

“Good.” Laughing nervously, you tapped your fingertips on the table. “I do, too.” 

Din’s mouth opened as he started to reply, but the man was cut off by the return of your server, two plates of dessert in her hands. “So, since your meal’s been taken care of tonight, whenever you’re finished with these, feel free to go.” She smiled at you first - and then Din, her eyes lingering on his face. “If you need boxes or refills on your drinks, just wave me down, but if you don’t, then thanks for coming in.” 

“Thank you.” Din nodded, head turned to look up at the woman. “Appreciate it.” She didn’t linger, leaving the two of you alone, and even though there was more to say in relation to your previous conversation, Din took a different track with what he said next, clearing his throat as he picked up his fork. “So tomorrow… tell me about this snowman thing.” 

“Well.” You took a bite of your dessert, groaning quietly at how good it tasted. “Like I said, they block off enough space for everyone to build. We do it in secret, so that people can’t tell who makes what, and then when we’re all done, they take down the walls and reveal the snowmen.” He nodded, his eyes on your plate. “You can try it if you want, Din.” Pushing it forward, you gestured with one hand. “It’s fine.” 

He didn’t hesitate to reach over and take some, your eyes on him as he lifted the fork to his mouth. “Shit, that’s good.” It is. “Want some of mine?” You did, repeating the same with his plate, and after a few seconds of comfortable silence, Din spoke again. “So then who judges?” 

“There’s a panel, like with the cookies, but there’s also a public vote, so the people that are walking through the park get to decide.” 

“What if someone cheats and tells people what they’ll be making? Or people can tell based on -”

“That’s just a risk of joining the competition.” You shrugged. “I’d like to think that people wouldn’t cheat like that, but…” But it could happen. “You’re not allowed to make snowmen that could identify you. So like, we couldn’t make us and Grogu, for example. We’ll be given a theme at the start of our time, and then have to make something based on that.” 

“A theme? How do you make themed snowmen?” His confusion was endearing, and as you finished your dessert, you rubbed your hands together. 

“They’ll have accessories there to go along with the theme. One year, it was a tropical theme, so there were a bunch of Hawaiian shirts and straw hats… coconuts and seashells… stuff like that.” He nodded. “It’s to even the playing field, so that everyone’s doing a variation of the same thing and has to work with the same props.”

“Alright.” He sighed. “Well, I guess that we just have to wait now, right?” Right. “How are you feeling?” 

“Full.” Groaning, you stared down at the table. “I’m ready for a nap.” 

“You can hang out at my place for a while, if you want.” He sounded hesitant to suggest it, and you wondered if it was because he thought you’d say no, or because he was just nervous, but either way, it was endearing. “There’s not much to do, but…”

“I’d like that.” Turning your head toward the window and squinting, you sighed. “As long as it’s not snowing too hard. I don’t want to get stuck in a Baby It’s Cold Outside situation, and -”

“What?” He interrupted you, blinking. “I have no idea what -”

“Oh.” Laughing, you pulled your phone out and typed into Google, sliding the device over the table toward him. “So the song goes back and forth between a man and a woman, switching between them every other line.” 

He picked it up, eyes scanning the screen, and a few seconds later, Din laughed, covering his face with one large hand. “I’d just drive you home if it got bad out and you really didn’t want to stay.” Of course you would. “They played this one at trivia, right? I remember hearing it.”

“They did.” You took your phone back from him, nose wrinkling. “And I was just trying to make a joke, I keep forgetting you don’t know all of the little… anyway. Yeah, Din. I’ll stay over for a while if you want me to, since I planned on being out kind of late anyway.” He looked relieved again, and when, a few minutes later, the two of you were back in the parking lot, coats completely zipped to ward off the cold, you were happy to see that it had stopped snowing, the sky above you littered with twinkling stars. “I’ll have to take you up to the lookout sometime, Din. It’s cold, but the view’s amazing, especially this time of year.” 

“The lookout?” He moved closer, turning his head to look at you. “I think I’ve heard a couple guys at work talk about that.”

“I’m sure you have. It’s really popular.” He unlocked your door, his hand trailing over your shoulder as he stepped back. “Teenagers go there to make out all the time, and -”

“Oh, so if we go there, is that what you’re expecting?” Turning to face him, you watched as Din crossed his arms over his chest, the silver of his coat glinting under the streetlights. “Maybe it’s me that needs to be singing about having to leave early to get home.” You lost it at that - laughing so hard you doubled over, eyes squeezing shut. Oh, Din. 

“You caught me.” Gritting your teeth in a faux-wince, you straightened back up. “Dragging you off to somewhere dark and secluded -”

“Tell me the night, and I’m there.” He winked at you, the man uncrossing his arms and reaching out, his knuckles brushing over one of your cheeks. “No dragging required.” 

You felt it then - the scales dangerously close to tipping over in a direction there’d be no returning from, but instead of letting it happen, you turned your head to the right, your lips grazing over his fingers briefly. “Alright.” 

And then you pulled back, taking a deep breath and turning back to face the car door and gritting your teeth for real. Don’t get ahead of yourself. It was hard not to - the conversation that you’d had over dinner giving you a better idea where you stood with Din, the man’s admission that he liked being straightforward and didn’t want to waste time aligning with exactly what you were looking for.  But it’s too easy. It’s too easy, too fast, and I can’t… I can’t let myself get lost in all of this. 

You gave yourself the reminder as he slid into the seat next to you, the truck rumbling to life. You and Din talked on the way back to his house, though it was mostly inane conversation, centered on work and people that you both knew - words meant to pass the time and nothing more. 

When he pulled into the driveway and parked next to your car, you were the first to get out, closing your eyes and taking a deep breath, the cold air filling your lungs. “I don’t know how you can do that after eating all that food.” Din’s voice interrupted your thoughts, the man coming up next to you. “I feel like I’m going to be sick. That cheesecake was not the best idea.”

“But it was so good!” You reached over, pressing your hand against his chest. “You liked it!” 

“I did,” He laughed, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “But that doesn’t mean that I shouldn’t know my limits and not…” He moved as he spoke, his hands going to your hips as yours remained on his chest, the other one hanging by your side. “... not stop myself from taking things too…” 

You didn’t even try to stop it - the man’s head angled and dipping toward yours, the way your eyes moved from his and down to his lips, your focus on his cupid’s bow, the center of it over the fullest part of his lower lip. I don’t want to stop it. He kissed you, pulling back at the last second and softening the contact, lips pressing to yours almost hesitantly.  

He held you there for long moments, your second hand rising to curl your fingers around the back of one of his elbows. And then Din walked you backwards, only stopping when you made contact with the surface of the garage door, but even then he didn’t pull away, a quiet huff escaping through your nose and a matching one from his as the kiss continued. 

Fisting the material of his jacket against your palm, you kept him close, even after Din pulled back to breathe, resting his forehead against yours and inhaling shakily, his hands still on your hips. “Got carried away there. Sorry about that.”

‘Din…” It came out breathily, a puff of air visible on the following exhale. “Don’t ever apologize for kissing me.” Muttering that he’d remember you saying that, he tilted his head and kissed you again, that one short and a little more forceful. 

“Time to go inside. It’s cold out here and we’ll be out for long enough tomorrow.” Yeah, we will. 

So you followed him into the house, peering around the corner in time to see Grogu lift his head up and over the arm of the chair to look in your direction before laying it back down, his eyes closing again. “Smell that?” Inhaling deeply, you closed your eyes. “Nothing like a fresh cut tree. Give it a couple days and the whole house will smell amazing.” I’ve gotta burn candles to get that smell in my place.”

“Yeah?” He’d taken his jacket off, hanging it over the back of one of the kitchen chairs. “I like it.” 

“Me too.” You took your coat off, too, picking another chair, and then stared at the man, waiting to see what he said next. It was the first truly awkward encounter between the two of you, and you couldn’t quite place why that was the case. But the longer  you stood there, the more you understood. 

It was awkward because neither of you knew where to go next. 

It would have been easy to step forward and take his hand, to pull him toward you and tell him that whatever happened was fine with you. It would have been easy to grab for your coat, pulling it back on and telling him that you’d had a great night but you needed to go. But with either of those options, the hard part would be tomorrow. It would be the rest of this - 

“Want to watch something on TV?” He scratched the back of his neck, shuffling his feet on the floor. “Gotta be something good on, right?” The middle option. 

“Yes.” He moved with your agreement, leading you down and into the room that Grogu was in, and after letting the dog outside, Din sat down next to you, leaning forward and reaching for the remote. “Maybe we can find one of the Christmas specials on somewhere. Have you seen any of them?”

“No.” He leaned back, remote held up in front of him. “I know what they are, but I haven’t seen any of them. Which one do you like the most?” It took you a second, but you were able to give him an honest answer. 

“The original Grinch. It’s animated and it’s really old, but it’s …” You leaned back and then tucked your feet beneath your body. “It’s got charm. Rudolph is great, too. All of the old animated ones are… they remind me of being little.” 

“Yeah?” He looked over at you, smiling just enough so that you could see it. “Are there Christmas movies that aren’t cartoons that you like, too?”

“Plenty.” You cleared your throat. “Have you seen Die Hard?” 

“I have.” That shocked you, but it resulted in a conversation that wasn’t at all stilted, the two of you talking about other Christmas movies for the next twenty or so minutes, Din only getting up to let Grogu in and go into the kitchen for water. 

He brought you a glass without you asking, handing it over and then heading for the tree and trailing his fingers along the ends of the branches while you stayed on the couch. I never thought I’d be here with him. 

Din stood in front of the tree, his back to you, and even though there weren’t any lights or ornaments on it, it still felt cozy, dispute the tentative way he touched the branches. “You’re not gonna hurt it, Din.” Climbing off of the couch, you moved to stand next to him. “When we had a real tree when I was a kid? We used to shove our arms in between the branches and shake it, just to get rid of whatever needles were going to fall out before we started decorating.” 

Pulling your sleeve over your hand, you did just that, gripping the trunk and shaking it hard, looking down in time to see a few needles settling on the carpet. “You weren’t kidding.” Nope. 

“You picked a good tree, Din. It fits in this room.” Pausing, you pulled your hand back, making sure that the entire thing wasn’t going to fall over. “And -”

You stopped mid-sentence, though, when Din’s arm went around you, urging you closer. What is he doing? “It’ll look even better when it’s decorated.” He took another breath, tightening his hold on you. “Right?”

“Right.” Just go with it. Go with it, because the other option is walking away and … I don’t want to. “Did you go with colored or white lights?” 

“Multicolored. I really like the way yours looks, so I got those.” That made you smile, even as you ducked your head down to hide it from him. “When did you want to come over? Tomorrow night? Sunday?” 

“If I come over Sunday, that means you’ll have seen me every day for a week straight.” And then next week at work, too. You tried to play it off as a joke, bumping into him with your shoulder, but Din didn’t laugh, keeping his arm around you though he turned to face you, too. 

“And? What’s the problem with that?” 

“I don’t want you to get sick of me.” It was happening again, the two of you moving closer together, his hand sliding over your back to settle at your hip, the other one traveling slowly but purposefully up your opposite arm. “Din, I -”

“How could anyone get sick of you?” You licked your lips at that, opening your mouth to reply, but he didn’t let you, his fingers closing around your shoulder before they moved up, Din’s large hand pausing against the side of your neck before it moved back so that he could tilt your chin up. “That’s not possible.” 

“You don’t know me well enough yet,” you mumbled, but there was nothing behind it. “You -” That was as far as you got, Din whispering your name before he kissed you.  

It started out slow, like the others, but quickly changed into something more - the earlier kisses from that night acting as the kindling for the fire sparked by the touch of his lips to yours. And you made the most of it, your hand rising to the back of his neck and then settling there for a few seconds before you broke apart from him for a moment, a breathy “fuck it” all you managed before you dove in again, crushing his lips with yours and sliding your hand up, fingers tangling in his hair. 

Din groaned into your mouth when you tugged on it, the strands soft and curling around your fingers, and when he shifted his hands on you, the hold turning into him gripping the back of your neck and the hand at your waist pushing up and taking your shirt with it, exposing a strip of your skin to the open air of his living room, you gasped, the opening apparently exactly what he was waiting for. 

He slipped his tongue past your parted lips moments later and all you could do was nod at the action, encouraging him wordlessly when you met it with your own, your grip on his hair still tight. There was urgency in the kiss for the first time, the movement of your mouths turning sloppy the longer it went on, but you didn’t care. 

When you paused to breathe, chest pressed to Din’s and heaving, you looked up, opening your eyes. He was watching you, searching your face for any sign of hesitation, and when you didn’t give him one, he grinned and swooped in again, nodding before closing his lips around your lower one and sucking, the softness replaced with teeth moments later, the edges of them dragging over your lip. 

You continued to touch him, too - fingers loosening in his hair and instead stroking it, the movement made easier when Din broke away from your mouth and pressed a trail of kisses across your cheek and then down, following the line of your jaw. Oh, shit. I… Your body responded before you even realized you were doing it, head tilting away and exposing more of your neck to him - and Din took full advantage. 

You kept your eyes closed and took a long, deep breath as he latched onto the thin skin where your neck met your shoulder, the rasp of his beard raising goosebumps at your throat. Din stepped backwards and you followed, almost certain that he was leading you toward the stairs. And that’s fine. That’s -

A loud squeak startled you and you jumped away from Din, eyes wide. “What the -” 

But he was laughing, the man’s mouth open as he tilted his head back. What was … You figured it out as soon as you glanced down, Grogu off of the chair and attempting to pick up the toy that Din had stepped on, paws spread apart as he nosed at it. “Dank farrik.” Din groaned and you raised both hands to your face, covering it with them. Shit. 

 “Din, I -” 

“We got carried away.” He said your name and you peeked through your fingers, heart still racing as you attempted to calm yourself down. “We got carried away and I didn’t mean for …” 

“I’m sorry.” It was second nature to you to apologize, but as soon as the words left your mouth, you felt Din’s hand at your elbow, urging you closer. 

“I’m not.” His eyes were blazing, focused on your face. “It’s a good thing we stopped, but I’m not sorry.” Pulling on your hand, Din led you up the stairs and into the kitchen, Grogu finally getting the toy into his mouth and then following you, the quiet click click click of his nails on the hardwood stopping only when he laid down, the toy securely between his paws. “Wanted to do that all night, actually.” 

“Yeah?” Leaning your against the edge of the counter, you watched as Din faced it, lowering his head to grip the edge of the sink with both hands. “What took you so long?” 

“Didn’t know if you wanted it, too.” Turning his head, he shrugged. “Now I do. But.” He sighed, looking down, and you watched his shoulders rise and fall, the man squeezing his eyes shut. “I don’t … it can’t go further than that. Not now. Not yet.” 

“OK.” Confused, you stepped closer and put your hand flat on his back. “I don’t expect you… or us to… Din?”

“I meant what I said when I told you I don’t want to waste your time.” He said your name, looking back at you, and for the first time, you saw genuine anguish in his eyes, the man’s uncertainty almost tangible. “And until I know for sure I wouldn’t be, it’s not a good idea for us to … take this further.” 

You had no idea what he was talking about or how he could possibly be wasting your time, but you chose not to question it. He wouldn’t say it if he didn’t mean it. He’s got to have a reason, and … “Does that mean you don’t want to see me again? Or finish the -”

“No, not at all.” He straightened up, reaching for you and encircling your wrist with his fingers. “Competition is still on. And of course I want to see you again, we’ve got a tree to decorate. But this…” He squeezed your arm and then reached for you with his other hand, running his thumb over your lips. “We’ve got to slow it down.” 

It was disappointing - not because you expected the man to take you to bed, or because you’d even imagined that that’s where things were going. But to hear him lay it out and say that it couldn’t happen was like a knife to the heart. But he’s still touching me. He’s still right here, and he’s still… “Alright, Din. If that’s what you want, I’ll be… more mindful of -”

“It’s not what I want but it’s what has to happen.” He rolled his eyes, thumb dragging slowly over your collarbone. “For now, anyway.” He paused, frowning. “Do you trust me?”

“I have no reason not to.” It was a dangerous thing to place your trust in a man that you’d only really been getting to know for a few weeks - and you knew it - but that didn’t change how you felt - or the sincerity in your words. “I should probably get going though. We’ve already proven we can’t keep our hands to ourselves.” 

“Not sure how anyone can around you.” He smiled, the look in his eyes changing back to one that was more relaxed. “And I mean that.” 

“Thanks, Din.” You were reluctant to pull yourself out of his arms but you did it anyway, reaching for your coat and pulling it on. “Meet me tomorrow at 4 at the park? Do you know where the lot is?” 

“I do. And that works.” He scratched at his cheek, nodding. “We never decided on a day for the tree.” We didn’t. “Unless you’d rather not help after tonight. And I’d understand, because -”

“How about this.” You stepped closer, arms crossed over your chest. “You have a fireplace and I don’t. Why don’t we decorate tomorrow night after the snowman thing? You can light a fire, and it’ll help to set the right mood … and it’ll warm us up after hours in the snow.” 

“I can do that.” He blew out a breath, eyes darting off to the side so that he could look at the clock. “Easy.” 

You were prolonging the inevitable, and so you made your move for the door, Din following close behind you - and Grogu behind him. When you reached it, you grabbed for the handle, pausing and deciding to turn back around. “Make sure you dress warm tomorrow. Boots and gloves and a hat… it gets cold out there. They have warming tents, but sometimes…” 

You thought back to the first year you’d entered with James, and how cold you’d both been before the end of it - your gloves dripping wet and his boots soaked through. “I told you. I like snow. I’ll be fine. Thank you for the reminder, though.” 

“No problem.” Digging through your bag for your keys, you nodded. “Ok, Din. G’night.” 

“Hey.” He said your name again, caution in his tone. “I promise I’ll explain everything when I can. Thank you for understanding.” Yeah. Yeah, it… 

“I’m just trying to come to terms with the fact that kissing me got you so distracted that it took you stepping on a squeaky toy to come to your senses.” He grinned at that, both of you looking down at Grogu and then meeting each other’s eyes again.

“I would have stopped myself.” He reached for you, curling his fingers under your jaw. “I was distracted but still wouldn’t have let myself get completely out of line.” 

“Good to know.”

It was happening again, the pull between the two of you making you lean in, the subtle change in the position of his hand telling you exactly what was going to happen moments before it did. 

Din kissed you once and then turned his head to the side, lips landing on the corner of your mouth and lingering. “Get home safe.” He whispered the words before pulling away, the tip of his nose dragging up and along your cheek before he stood up straight. “And I’ll see you tomorrow.” 

“Yeah.” Swallowing hard, you reached behind you and twisted the doorknob, the gust of cold air bringing you completely back to the present. “Thanks for tonight, Din. It was …” Perfect. “You know.”

“Yeah. I do.” 

Stepping onto the porch, you headed for your car, only looking back at Din when you were sitting in the driver’s seat. He was standing in the doorway, eyes on you - and when you put the car into reverse, he nodded his head once in a silent goodbye - you lifting your hand to wave in return. 

—  

Norac: back

Jate bora: good job

Cuyir ulyc: be careful

Olaror: come

Nayc: no

Tag list coming soon! 

[skzoologist]

Stray kid

word count: below 500 words

warnings: none, just a flirt at the end

summary: The boys really should just put Bae on a leash, given that the male in question got lost once again.

Please let me know if I left a warning or anything out, I will add it in! Reblogs, likes and feedback are greatly appreciated!

!I don't condone anyone stealing my work and posting it anywhere without my permission, or feeding it to AI!

!This is just fiction, my interpretation of Stray Kids. By no means is this how they are and how they behave in real life!

·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙

·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙·͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙⁺˚•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙˚⁺‧͙

He really had no clue how he got there.

He followed the others, looking away for one second to check something on his phone, then suddenly, he was all alone. There was no one there to ask for help either; panic quickly boiling in his stomach at the thought.

Looking around, he only saw walls and everyday things, the place relatively dark from the lack of the usually bright ceiling lights. He couldn’t help raking a hand through his mid-length hair, unease kicking in.

Nothing really indicated a way out, no signs, nothing.

His legs gained life of their own, taking a few steps back and forth, eventually settling down near a wall so he could lean onto it. His hand never leaving his hair, the other holding the phone and shakily typing away.

His boys were already alarmed, searching for him, but he couldn’t help them in the matter. He didn’t know where he was, and if he moved away, he could potentially get even more lost. The only thing he could think of doing was to apologise over and over again in their group chat, soon stopping even that as the others pointedly told him to shut up.

A chuckle bubbled out of his chest, on edge and strange.

“Bae hyung?”

His body startled, phone almost falling to the ground, were his grip any less tight on it. He whipped around and met the owner of the familiar voice, five pairs of eyes staring back at him.

Oh, it was TXT, a group they met back at an event that was similar to today’s one, different k-pop bands mixing and mingling together freely.

“Bae hyung, what are you doing here? Is everything okay?” - Soobin asked, voicing the question that sat on everyone’s faces.

Bae just rubbed his head in shame, gaze drifting towards the boys’ legs, rather than their faces.

“I uh… I got lost.”

Sure enough, the laughter he awaited arrived, dancing around him mockingly. Warmth flooded his cheeks, only strengthening the laughter until they were shushed pointedly.

“Hah, seems like even the Glacial Prince has his flaws, hm? That’s fine, we like ‘em a little silly.”

Oh that comment didn’t really help his cheeks to cool down.

“Yeonjun, come on, this is not the time for that. We need to help him, you ass.”

“But I can do both, so why not? Anything for my Bae.”

Sure enough, the younger took his arm and led him away, the others shouting and stumbling after them hastily.

What a silly little group they were.

[afatallovesong]

you!!! write!!! so!!! well!!!!! I've come back to your writing 3 times today just because it's SO GOOD. pretty please could you do another anything of luke? ngl I'm an absolute sucker for a friends/bffs to lovers trope so that would be fantastic if you could write another. sending big waves of love your way!!!!! x

Thank you so much for your kind words, I'm honestly so grateful to anyone who reads, likes, reblogs or even requests and whatever else you do on this site. I hope you continue to enjoy my posts, thank you for being here.

Okay now for the good stuff! Soooo, I decided this was going to be a 2-part piece because I also received another Luke request and there wasn't much of a prompt with it. I also just wrote way too much for this concept, so it needed a good chop in two. Oops.

ANYWAY... I will go back and edit in the link to part 2 here when it's done. I hope you enjoy your half first though :)

Not Yours

A Luke Hemmings one shot (except not really)

18+, Smut, NSFW

Part 1, Part 2

Word Count: 6871

“It’s not that big of a deal, you caught me in a compromising position, we can move on now.” He’s not even blinking an eye; he’s not doing much of anything actually. Maybe it’s his years of keeping his lip tight for the sake of the band, never letting a secret spill for the gossip that would entail. He’d been working on his poker face for over 10 years, and you were ashamed to say it was working on you. You couldn’t see a single glimmer of guilt cross his chiselled features and it’s not like he should be ashamed of his sexuality, he was entitled to it as much as anyone. That wasn’t what irked you. What was bothering you, however, was that you just noticed the small smile that crept onto his lips whenever you stared at them for too long.

“Are you fucking kidding me? I caught my best friend with his dick down some poor girl’s throat.” You stood up from the chair to emphasise your frustration, how very not okay you were with the events of the previous night. You hadn’t set up a schedule for the room share, you hadn’t enforced any rules at all to prevent things like this from happening. You honestly hadn’t felt like you’d needed to. You were sharing a room with him over a long weekend. Just 3 nights and 4 days. You were actually dumb enough to think that booking a room with one 1 bed would finally be what bought you closer together, smashing the boundaries between the two of you that normal circumstances never could. You’d never anticipated those same boundaries being broken quite like this.

The image of him sat right on the edge, rutting his hips up into her mouth. You couldn’t forget it. Nor the hand he had gripping her jaw whilst simultaneously gripping the sheets on your side of the bed too. Just rubbing the material back and forth between his thumbs like a comfort blanket. He didn’t even look at her while she took him, no. His head had fallen back, face positioned towards the ceiling. His eyes clasped shut, lips barely puffing out air. He looked lost in her touch but not enough to vocalise a damn word. He was silent. Just chasing that high without any means of an end. It was unsettling. His jugular was so bare too. His Adams apple gulping down the air you failed to see him take in. Maybe he’d stolen it from you since the sight was so frustratingly breath-taking.

“You make it sound like I forced her.” His confidence wavered but only for a second, his hands fiddling with the rings on his fingers, sliding them back and forth as he fought his case and you instantly felt regretful for the way you’d phrased it. “I didn’t mean it like that.” You held your hand out steady to reassure him. You really didn’t, he wasn’t like that. Even in his hardest partying days you don’t think he could have forced anyone. One look into the salted ocean of his eyes and you’d be willing to do just about anything to stay a while, take a swim, dive in, and surround yourself in the clearness. Only because you wanted to, no other reason.

“I’m sorry. I just-.” You go to sit down beside him on the bed but think better of it. You hadn’t slept in it at all. Another reminder as to how he couldn’t convince someone to do something they hadn’t wanted to. You’d actually wanted to drop your clothes and slot beside him as if nothing had ever happened. When he’d held your hand and almost begged you to stay you nearly broke to pieces and crumbled beside him like the remnants of a midnight snack before bed. You just didn’t want to share the same bed he’d used with her. Even if that meant opting for the sofa that night and then Ashton’s bed the night after. “They’ve been cleaned you know.” He refers to the hygiene of the bedsheets beneath him. He sighs before standing up to let you sink down into the sheets in replacement of him, you now felt less ill thinking about touching them with your own palms. Even if they hadn’t been cleaned daily, did you really think he was that much of animal that he’d followed through after you witnessed him? The sheets were as pristine and unused as they were when you arrived.

“It was just a shock.” It was a shock to you to slot your key card in the door, stumbling through, shedding your boots from your ankles as you trickled in from the hotel bar. You’d held them in your hands as you walked the short hallway past the reasonably sized bathroom, towards the bedroom. You dropped them with a double thud when your eyes fell to the girl on her knees. It was a shock for a lot of reasons. 1, it meant you couldn’t move for a while, feet cemented in place, creating your own personal hell as you watched the scene play out in front of you. 2, it meant you had to announce yourself somehow or make a heady escape, but you’d doubted you were quite sober enough to retreat without making a single sound anyhow. 3, because of the impending doom of your friendship with both Luke and the others because they came as a packaged deal, nothing more and nothing less. 4, as it was only fitting to have quadruple the trauma. It meant that it hurt like hell cause you wanted nothing more than to be that girl you were referring to. To be the one taking him instead of witnessing him giving himself to someone else. That was the biggest shock. You hated that you still desperately wished it had been you.

“Can we just please forget this?” He fucked up the moment he attempted to get his kicks from someone else and it didn’t take a genius to know why. His hand wasn’t enough, the hands of the girls he chased, who also chased him, weren’t enough. Hell, maybe he was asexual or something, maybe sexual gratification just wasn’t it for him, could never fix his little problem though he’d like to argue it was actually far from little but for the sake of punishing himself further, sure, a “little “problem. But then he let his mind wander to you. If he just pictured you, imagined you, like he did that night, that night when he closed his eyes and thought of you so hard, he thought he’d summoned you there himself when he opened his eyes to the sight of you stood in the doorway. The only thing that was wrong with the scenario was that it wasn’t just a fantasy of his, you wouldn’t push her out the way and finish the job for her. You were there and you were horrified at what you’d seen. He didn’t think he’d ever have it in him to get hard again. It was what he deserved after all.

“I can take the couch tonight.” He threw his phone down onto it to show he’d claimed it for the evening. “You’re too tall for it, even I had to curl up and I’m at least 4 inches shorter. Take the bed, I’ll see about getting my own room. Maybe reception have had a cancellation or something.” You felt too guilty to ask Ashton for the second night in a row. He needed a good night’s rest more than anyone after the shows he’d played. He insisted that he hadn’t minded, that he quite enjoyed not being alone, but you couldn’t impose, especially when you felt how much he tossed, turned, and had to hold himself back from rolling into your side accidentally. Even his subconscious knew he needed the space.

“Then I’ll sleep on the floor or something.” He’s already grabbing the couch cushions, throwing them down on the lush carpet, ignoring most of what you’d just said. “Luke you really don’t have to.” He’d mess up his back if he stayed down there, you weren’t going to let that happen. “Just take the bed.” You grab his wrist to prevent any further preparations he could make. For a moment you thought you felt a static shock from the contact, you block the memory and release him. “You’re cute when you’re bossy.” He attempts a smirk; however premature it may be. “That why you test me so much?” You take over, grabbing the pillows from your side of the mattress to assemble with the others at the foot of the bed. Luke bites his tongue when he wants to say more. He instead walks towards the wardrobe vaguely remembering the sight of spare pillows and a few top sheets in case of a colder night. “Thank you.” You smile as you take them from him.

“That’s not so bad.” You clap your hands together, proud of the little bed you’d made. The couch cushions forming a makeshift mattress, the one blanket draped over as a sheet. The pillows both spare and from the bed were lay around to catch your body if you tossed and turned in the night which you definitely would be doing, you always did when you felt stressed, today was no different. The last blanket was there to cover you as a makeshift duvet. It looked like the beginnings of an excellent fort, not so much a comfortable night’s sleep but it was the best you could do in your newly found confinement. “That’s the worst arrangement I’ve ever seen.” You scowl at him, and he ignores it. He’s kneeling down, shifting the pillows already before halting his movements, retreating from the carpet as quickly as he’d crouched there in the first place. “I’ll be back in like 5 minutes.”

You stand there knowing exactly where he’s gone. He ran to the next room; you hear his heavy fists on the door through the wall. You roll your eyes at the way he runs to his friends for help at every turn. I guess they were more like brothers at this stage, but it didn’t make it any less adorable, and moderately annoying if you were being brutal, and you were. He couldn’t just solve a problem by himself, never had to. He needed the nurturing, the second, third and fourth opinions. The council of his band. Maybe that’s why it was so hard to sweep this fallout under the mat. He was trying to fix it independently without turning to them. He wasn’t even asking you if there was anything he could do, even if you wouldn’t have helped him to figure it out, he never asked you anyway. That’s all you really wanted too, to be the one he could go to, for anything, not entirely without judgement but closely enough. Before you thought about it any longer, he was back with more sheets and more pillows, nearly tripping over the fabric and his own feet to transport them to you.

You took some of the load from him immediately and he smiled at you genuinely for the first time that day. He felt like he’d earned the right to show you some more kindness and he was taking the opportunity gladly. “Okay so what’s the plan then?” You let him lead you, shaking your shoulders out, ready to out yourself to work as if this was such a strenuous task. “Okay so-“ You spent a little while pacing back and forth over the space before moving ultimately decided to deconstruct and set up camp elsewhere. The extent of the collected materials proving too large for the designated area at the end of the bed. Instead, you’d incorporated the sofa into his design, altering the original structure completely. You’d taken the sheet he’d wrangled from Michael’s linen closet, placed it over the couch and tucked it behind where it met the wall to keep it in place. You’d then draped the opposite end over the two chairs that were once beneath the desk and dressing table the hotel provided creating a roof-like effect.

Luke then moved beneath the newly erected structure, layering the pillows with some blankets to create a cushiony base large enough to be considered a twin sized bed (the best Luke could manage with the space). All before adding the couch cushions now covered in fresh sheets as a headrest for more pillows to build on top. He’d even managed to enhance the practicality of the fort so that there were a couple of free plug sockets for you to access to charge your phone and other items while you lay inside. He’d clearly had too much experience working with hotel resources when he was living in them from week to week. You felt both sad at the thought of him having to entertain himself that way but also a little jealous of the idea that he might not have been as lonely as you pictured him. You may not be the only girl he’d built a fort for. You weren’t the only girl he’d chosen to do a lot of things with. You might have been the only girl he’d really cared for though; you just didn’t really know that yet and that was hard enough. All that your new home was missing was another blanket and it didn’t surprise you when he leapt up again to scrounge one from someone else, after already bleeding them dry. You had to be a little impressed with his efforts at an apology, he’d tried so hard for you.

When he came back, he sank to his knees at the base of your little palace, sweat gathering on his brow, breath exhaling and inhaling rapidly enough that you’d thought he might pass out. “Where did you steal that one from?” Judging by the flustered look of him, he’d ran home and back. “Nearly killed housekeeping when I just about wheezed my request.” Your hand flew to your mouth to cover the snort that released itself. He’d never been happier to hear such a dorky sound shoot out of your nose. It may have been embarrassing for you, but for him it was the sweetest sound. He didn’t have a weird fetish or anything, he just knew that you had to be comfortable or really, thoroughly enjoying yourself, to let a sound like that out without wincing in shame afterwards. It meant you were relaxed with him; your walls had rained down against the ground and you weren’t fighting with him or your urge to stay composed any longer. When your tearful eyes met his, tearful with happiness and rib-aching laughter over sadness by the way, he wanted to kiss you.

You wanted to kiss him too. You didn’t. You just thanked him instead. “You might have a future in decorating Mr Hemmings.” You shuffle back under the fortress, lying yourself back, testing the comfort of the bed he’d made. You beckon him in with your finger and he gladly complies, joining you with just enough space between you to settle your hands down without them touching. “Only kid’s rooms though.” You add. “I think this is the dream house for any age.” He argues and you disagree. “For about a week until you start to get claustrophobic.” He couldn’t deny you there. He was already starting to feel it, he could have sworn it was bigger than this.

He sits himself up, looking back down towards you before sending himself out. “Well, I hope you enjoy your new home.” He shuffles on his bottom to get himself to the singular exit. He doesn’t make it very far when your soft hand traps his wrist against the cushions they still lie on. “You don’t have to go yet.” He argues. “Technically I’m not going anywhere, same room and all.” You roll your eyes; you finally show him some normality and he chose to annoy you. “Lie back down.” He doesn’t dare to escape you now. “Yes ma’am.”

He lays himself down, heart suddenly hammering when he notices you’re hand still holding onto him. He smiles to himself uncontrollably the longer it stays there, your thumb starting to stroke over his skin anxiously, further confirming that you were touching him on purpose, that it wasn’t just the accidental impulse it started out to be. “You can hold my hand you know.” His mouth feels drier than the Sahara as he says it. Probably because he had no business suggesting anything for you to do. “I don’t know where it’s been.” You couldn’t resist the dig, even if it actually churned your stomach to let it slip. It still stirred anxiety within you, the thought of him actually being with someone else. “Hilarious.” He scolds before his breath catches, your hand gently prying his fingers open to let yours slip between them like flowing silk.

“I was working up to it.” You admit, turning your head to face the side of his. He felt your gaze, but he didn’t meet it. He wasn’t sure he’d be able to hide his excitement if he did. He opted for the sheet above instead, soft, simple, and pure. Pure enough to absorb his expressions and not reflect them but conceal them instead. “Luke, I think I was jealous.” You drop the bomb on him, exploding the neutral scenario he’d created for you so painstakingly hard. He shoots to sit up, nearly deconstructing the damn thing he spent so long building in apology to you. “Well, you didn’t have to react quite like that.” You retract your hands, pulling them over your lower tummy prodding at the butterflies to quieten them down as you do damage control. “I know it's bad okay, you don’t have to say anything. I already know.” It’s a good thing you let him know because he didn’t think he had it in him to utter a single word right now. His body was short circuiting before your eyes. Jealous. Jealous of him, jealous of her, jealous of what exactly?

“I think- “You cut yourself off, to start again. “I guess I- “No, not quite right again. Maybe you should just throw caution to the wind, you’d done enough pussyfooting around.

Throw. Caution. To. The. Fucking. Wind.

“I booked a single bedded room Luke, what the fuck did you think that meant?” You didn’t think it would come out quite so aggressively, but you weren’t about to take anything back now. His wires were finally uncrossing, his head clearing, he was fully functional once more and recognising his colossal idiocy. “I’m a fucking idiot.” He doesn’t even move. He’s facing forward, palms flat against the blanket, shoulders slumped as the words sink in. “You think? I mean come on, did you think we were gonna top and tails it?” You laugh as you even mention it. “It used to be my favourite trope actually, only one bed, but I guess I see the flaws in it now.” He’s shaking his head to react to your words. “I’m so dumb.” You snort. Yeah, you said that already, you think. This time he doesn’t find your laughter so adorable, this time he hates the sound because it’s just you mocking him and although he thoroughly deserved it, he wanted, no, needed, you to shut the fuck up.

He turned himself around, sitting on his knees, facing you with all the confidence he had left. “Tell me I have another shot.” He’s looking at you and you’re looking away and he’d lift your chin to bring your attention in his direction, but he doesn’t dare overstep physically since his words were doing quite enough of that already. “Tell me I can have another chance.” You can hear his heart pounding in his chest. Good. “Or what?” He’s so close to just slamming your back down and shutting you up in every way he could. “Or I take the not-so-subtle hint,” he nearly winces as he nods towards the bed he’d stupidly ignored before finishing his sentence, “and I don’t ask again.” You know he’s not moved an inch, but it feels like his drifting from you. “I want you to ask again.” He’s about to scream with excitement. “Ask me Luke- “He’s leaning forward carefully, making no real effort to close any gap, just meeting you in the middle, the rest of the distance was yours to close. “Do I have another chance?” You’re not saying a damn thing back and the silence is deadly. “Or do I have to take it from you?” Your eyes meet his briefly before rolling back at the intensity of his words.

His hands float towards your hips, shuffling your body closer to him. You feel as though you weigh nothing at all when he lifts you with such ease. “Need your permission.” His forehead is almost leaning into yours but he’s too frightened to touch you more than he already had just in case you disappeared the moment he stepped it up a notch. Your permission is granted by a kiss to his neck. His eyes fly shut when your lips caress his skin. He never expected any of this, you both knew that he’d made it abundantly clear, but he certainly never would have thought you’d kiss his throat before you so much as pecked him on the lip. It felt like more of a punishment than anything else he’d gone through with you. Luke craved you. He’d sell his soul for a real kiss from you, in his mind he already had done because in what world did he deserve your lips trailing down his chest? The buttons of his shirt flying open without his realisation because he’s so lost in thought deciphering if he’d been imagining the whole ordeal. “Shit, Luke you’re solid.” He’s coming to his senses, his hips rocking up into your hand. The second he opened his eyes he nearly creamed his pants seeing your eyes go wide, lips wet with your salivating at the sight of his fat cock begging to be released from the confinement of his jeans.

You rub over the hardened lump with a morbid curiosity for how long it would take to get him begging you for more. You also can’t help but wonder how easy it was for his previous endeavour to get him like that. He’s pressing his crotch into your hand, his teeth nearly piercing his bottom lip as he melts under your lacklustre touch. He knows he could cum from it but that didn’t mean he couldn’t aspire for more; it wasn’t nearly enough when he knew what you could be offering him. He wants to beg you, but the hoarseness of his dry throat has him whimpering and whining gruffly instead. “I wanna see what the hype is about.” You breathe as you unbutton his jeans, the zipper falling down by itself, your brow arching in surprise. “Jeans too tight?” He curses as he’s nearly freed. Your fingers immediately prod at a peculiar wet patch in the fabric of his underwear and for a moment he wonders why the fuck you’d ever think to touch him like that until he opens his eyes to view for himself.

He’d leaked a substantial amount of precum into the grey cotton of his pants and you didn’t have to be a genius to spot it and know exactly why it was there. “Fucking kill me now.” He threw his head back, hands covering his face before you could spot the redness of his cheeks. “It’s flattering Lu, nothing to be ashamed of.” Your eyes are transfixed on the area, unfazed. “Need to get these off you.” You tug at the waistband of his jeans, wiggling it as much as you could by yourself. You pout when you can’t quite manage it. Luke peaks at you through the gaps he’d made between his fingers. His hips lifted before he even thought about it. Your pout fades, lips parting to gasp instead as not only the denim but the material beneath had slid down to his mid-thigh, leaving him completely exposed to you for the first time.

This time you have to catch your jaw, closing your mouth before you really do dribble at the size of him. His tip is blushing red, leaking with arousal so vastly, its pooling onto his stomach. He’s thicker than you thought he’d be. You knew he felt fat in your hand, but you assumed the fabric assisted the image but no, it was all him. His cock was so thick you’d never be able to take it all at once, not without training anyway. He wonders what’s going on in your beautiful little mind as you stare down at him, not moving a muscle. “Baby please.” Before he could whine much more, you outstretched your tongue to lick the liquid silver he’d left against the soft flesh of his tummy. You vibrate a moan against him at the sweet taste of him and his cock doesn’t just twitch, it practically leaps at vision of you. You’ve shocked him speechless. He starts to wonder if you intentionally avoided the places he needs you the most or if it’s all your own sick little game of revenge.

His hips lift from the floor once more and you use both hands to force him back down before you assault his pretty tip with kisses and kitten licks. You knew they did nothing but frustrate him, barely stimulating him enough to please him, but you were just getting started on this little love letter of yours. You wanted to show him all you had, let him forget anyone else who ever dared to try and compete. You licked over the sensitive little slit at the centre of his tip and he gripped the sheets so hard his knuckles turned white and cracked from the pressure. He needed to remember how helpless you’d made him feel just then, like he could have finished instantly into your mouth.

You hummed an unidentifiable tune as you sucked the first inch of him into your mouth, moaning as an unexpected squirt of liquid shot onto your tongue, more of his early arousal. You never thought you’d ever get him this good. Not before you even took him whole. His body was practically coming alive under your touch, he’d have nothing left to give and you hadn’t even gotten halfway down his length yet. “Oh fuck.” He’s groaning desperately as you retreat from him. You remove all touch, letting his cock slap back against his stomach. He’s never felt so exposed in his life, and it was exhilarating for him. He was completely at your disposal. But you don’t leave him like that for long, even if you’d wanted to. You were about ready to hump the pillow strategically placed beneath you, you were that turned on by the idea of tasting him.

You spat in your hand and gripped the base of his cock before dragging the wetness over him, slowly mixing it with the lubricant he’d already provided. “You’re so hot.” He’s putty in your hands. You smile, not towards him, just down at his cock as you drag your hand firmly over him. You hope to create a torturous pace, nowhere near fast enough to get a release but just enough to keep his hips stuttering, tip leaking and him close to begging for your lips. You were concerned to take him whole and thankfully with your hand wrapped around him, you may not have to. Even if that were difficult for you to accept when you’d needed him so bad. You’d never felt a hunger like this before. You’d never wanted anything in your mouth as much as his cock and there was no point denying either of your urges, this was your chance.

You were so greedy as you took him in your mouth this time. Your hands fisting tightly around him, tongue slurping up his juices as you inched your way down him. “So, fucking greedy for me, fuck baby.” You dare to glance up through your lashes to see him leaning against his elbows, watching you with his jaw slack, tongue swiping over his bottom lip. The moment your eyes meet, he swears he can’t take it anymore and he pushes your head down over him. You let out a strangled moan and he panics at the sound vibrating against him, now terrified he’d hurt you, gearing himself up to pull you back where you were. You fight his hands, surprising him yet another time that evening. You force your lips down until they reach the hand you coated his base with, and he hits the back of your throat with a grunt.

The noise Luke made could be compared with one he’d release if he were punched in the chest, sounding both winded and in pain. You suck hard on as much of him as you can before pulling back and throwing yourself down again. “Shit, just like that, oh fuck, use that tongue.” He’s gripping your hair tightly in one hand and fighting himself strongly to avoid pushing you down again with the other. Instead, he tugged on your locks as a form of encouragement, and it had your stomach doing somersaults.

The noise of you slurping, choking, and gagging around him was a symphony of pleasure and he’d half the mind to record it and keep it forever if he could but he couldn’t fucking move from you if he tried. If he left you for even a millisecond, he’d never forgive himself. He was finally, exactly where he needed to be, tightly packed into your hot little mouth, his new place to call home and what a glorious home it was turning out to be. He belonged there.

Scratch everything, he previously thought about never being satisfied in bed. He’d never felt more wrong in his entire life. He would eat his words as you ate him, gulping down whatever he could give you. His cock had never been harder, never been so happy. There wasn’t a better way for him to describe it when you sucked on him like that. He had to fight himself to keep his eyes open, to remain here with you, knowing that you were everything he’d been waiting for.

You looked so gorgeous taking him too. He wanted this image tattooed on his eyelids. He felt like his cock might burst when you started rocking your own hips while you inched back and forth over him. You’d loved his cock so much you couldn’t prevent yourself from getting off over it. Right in front of him, you humped your hot little cunt into the sheets as a desperate attempt to release the growing tension between your legs. “If you don’t keep your hips still, I’m gonna cum down your throat, do you hear me?” You furrow your brows, turning your attention to his face. He’s sweating, its dripping down his cheeks so nicely you almost mistook them for tears. You can’t help but be shy about his accusations. You didn’t intend to do anything. You instinctively chased a feeling against your will and if it was anyone’s fault it was his. You were aching for him to fill something more than your mouth. No matter how good he felt pressing against the walls of your throat, no room left to breathe or utter a sound, you wanted his size elsewhere.

You continued to take him, this time consciously stilling your hips but huffing every now and then when you felt the urge to move. You may have swivelled a little, but you’d hoped he’d be kind enough to let it go amiss. You weren’t that lucky. Luke’s hands leave your hair, and you were whining without the feeling of him coaxing you on until you simply couldn’t whine anymore. His hands had slinked down to the column of your throat, linking beneath where the two of you were already connected. He applied a pressure to the edges, blindly but cautiously trying not to harm you or block your air way completely. He clamped down little by little until not a peep was heard from your perfect mouth and he used your silence to pull you down until your nose was meeting his pelvis, till he felt his own cock pulsating down your throat whilst in his hands. He let out the heaviest pants as you tried to gag around him. That’s when it hit you.

When you saw this gaping mouth, his usually light eyes darkened like the night sky, his cheeks burning hot like a furnace. You came without a single touch, a slither of friction, not even a weak attempt at conversation. As if he was in your mind, knowing what had just happened to you through some unbreakable bond, he released you from him, hands shifting to pat your head, smooth his fingers through your hair and settle you down from this insane high of yours. You choke out a moan and your head crashes against his torso. You’d never known yourself to come undone like that. You were a giver and always had been. It was no secret to you or anyone you’d fucked, just how soaked the act got you but to cum from that alone. To finish with his cock filling your mouth. You felt your cunt continually spasming.

“What the fuck?” You question yourself breathlessly, ashamed of yourself for letting your guard slip like that. It was Luke who was meant to cum first, not you. It was him who needed to know just what he’d been missing. Your body had betrayed you. It was mortifying. You hid your face to escape the mockery you knew would be coming. You were so prepared for it, so distracted from the original task at hand, you’d stopped touching him all together. If he weren’t so ridiculously in love with you, he’d be telling you to get back to it. He was so on edge it wouldn’t take more than a couple flicks of your wrist to finish him anyway. Because that, that was the most incredible thing he’d ever witnessed.

You were hiding away from him, shying away as if it were something he’d judge you for. If anything, he was blessed by it. You’d literally wanted his cock down your throat so badly you couldn’t stop yourself from finishing when you felt it there. You had fucking ruined him. He would never look at you the same way again. He’d think of this moment, the bulge in your throat when you couldn’t contain him, the tears staining your cheeks from the fullness, the hand wrapped around him tight like a vice because you had to just touch him with more than just your mouth. He adored you so much you’d never, ever understand just how much.

Luke nudges you gently, hand slipping under your chin, lifting you up, the rest of your body deciding to go with it. Your red and puffy eyes meet his pathetically. “Gotta let me take you baby.” You find yourself nodding, even if you didn’t really know what he meant. He had been taking you. He’d had your mind, body, and soul, what more could there be? “Gotta get these clothes off for me.” His hands stroke over your shoulders, still coated in a t-shirt now dampened with sweat. You nod lazily before reaching for the hem to grip onto and lift. “Wait.” He pushes his forehead against yours, hands preventing yours from following his instruction. “Can I kiss you?” You stare dumbfounded. You’d done a lot more than kiss him now and yet he still had to ask. “Taste like you though.” You mutter. “Think I can live with that.”

His kiss breathes life back into your aching form. You feel like you can straighten your back again, sit tall, sit confidently without gripping his thighs for support. Luke kisses you slowly, not slow in a disappointing manner, not too vanilla to take away from the passion of the moment. It’s just pleasantly slow, soft, and serene. His lips feel nice. You decide you quite like the plumpness of his bottom lip in comparison with the sharpness of his top. You sink into his mouth, hand cupping his cheek as you glide your own over his.

His hands wander to your waist, grabbing a handful of flesh before fleeing further south. Your tongue licks a stripe over his bottom lip which he takes as a sign to part them. You slip your tongue into the warm cavern of his mouth, and he tastes himself with a whimper. His palms smack down on your ass hard enough to echo it like the sound of a cracking whip. The erotic sounds of your tongues dancing with each other should put you off but it just doesn’t. The wetness is invited, the warmth is accepted, the sensation had your hips rolling again and God there must be something wrong with you. You couldn’t fill your void with enough of him. He just smiled into your kiss because he’d felt exactly the same way.

“Gotta- “he tugs your shirt, “take- “lifting it clumsily above your hips between kisses, “your- “you start to feel the coolness of the exposure as it climbs higher, “these- “it’s becoming an unbearable taunt, “fucking clothes off.” He pulls back to watch you discard the material as fast as you could so you can throw yourself into his lap. He’s halfway through removing the remainder of his jeans when you start to remember the rest of you is also still clothed.

You both fumble to remove your trousers and any other barriers separating you from each other. You don’t have a single drop of energy left to allow yourself to feel self-conscious when his eyes wrack over your body. It’s hard to feel anything other than perfect when his top responses are to wrap his own hand around his cock and suck his bottom lip between his teeth. “You’re so pretty Luke.” You sigh and he whines, gripping himself just that little bit tighter at the tone of innocence in your voice. “Yeah?” You nod in confirmation before flicking his hand away, replacing it with your own. He fucks up into your hand unabashedly, too swept away to care, too comfortable with you to reconsider the impulse.

“Need you to touch me.” You mewl, swiping your thumb over the throbbing head of him similarly to how you did it with your tongue before. “Where baby?” He knows exactly where. “Touch you where?” He needs to hear it; he’s vibrating just considering it. “You know where.” You match him. “No, no, gotta tell me.” You slow your movements, hand loosening around his cock causing his smile to falter. “Where do you need me?” You curse him. “You fucking know where.” You glare at him before you lie yourself down, arms crossing over your bare chest, sick of how ridiculously needy you were that you would put up with this childishness for the sake of another orgasm.

“How can I know I’m right if you don’t tell me?” His fingers have moved to your hip as he lay on his side, watching you closely, walking his fingers over your scorching hot skin. “Playing games now baby?” You pout towards him in a final attempt to win him over. You could just kill him for giving you as much of a fight as you did him. The two of you too stubborn for your own good.

“Where do you want me?” He asks again, voice shifting, dripping with a power that had you weak. “Same place I’ve always wanted you.” You soften your tone to reel him in and for a moment he believes he’ll never win this fight. Then you speak again. “My pussy, need you inside me, please Lu, please baby, waited so long.” You plead for your life. His cock is actually hurting it’s so fucking tight and hard right now. “Your pussy?” He offers as a question, and you hardly notice it until he speaks again.

His hand slips between your legs, swiping his index finger through the hot, sticky mess made between your thighs. “You think this is yours?” He continues to pry. “It’s not yours babe.” You open your mouth to ask what he’s alluding to, but he silences you, slipping a finger into your hot cunt, you clamping down on him immediately. “Not yours baby, your pussy’s fucking mine.” The noise you made was unholy but the look he gave you even more so. “See,” he coos, “you know it too, bucking up into my hand like that, such a good girl for me.” Unsurprisingly to you, that simple term of endearment, that affectionate little name, is the straw that broke the camel’s back. Any morsel of self-respect you’d ever had left was fucking desecrated. “Spread your legs for me angel.”

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Don't Speak 45

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as dubcon/noncon, obsession, stalking, manipulation, reclusive behaviour, disordered eating, dissociation, and other possible triggers. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: Reader is a reclusive loner who ventures down to the library on a simple mission. Her task is complicated by the man she meets there. (f!short!reader)

Character: librarian!Andy Barber

Note: took a while.

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me 

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!)

Love you all. Take care. 💖

When Ann leaves, you don’t move. You can’t. The ceiling light shines down on you, glimmering with your tears as they tremble along your eyelids. 

Naked and used, you melt into the mattress, a part of it, a thing just like it. You don’t know how long you stay like that. The white ceiling turns your vision spotty as your eyes go out of focus. No sounds can reach you as your ears close to the world. Your existence is empty. You are the toy Ann claimed you as. 

Your eyes close out of sheer exhaustion. Your head thumps with the shallow sleep that falls upon you. It’s less than restful, more an unfeeling trance, as you stay torturously chained to your reality. 

There’s a creak and a click. You feel a shift and something warm touches your arm. A rustle sends a shiver across your body and warmth settles over you. Your eyes roll open as a figure sits at the edge of the bed. You wince as Steve’s large hand closes around your shoulder. He squeezes as he gazes down at you. 

“You need anything, sweetie?” He asks softly. 

You don’t answer. You just blink. He exhales and lets you go as he stands. He turns on the lamp and retreats to shut off the overhead light. He returns to you as a hazy shadow. 

He lowers himself again, the bed dipping beneath him. You struggle to move your stiff arms, hugging yourself beneath the blanket as your teeth chatter. He tickles along your forehead and hums. 

“I’m sorry about Ann,” he says, “she shouldn’t have said all that.” 

You stare up at him. It’s okay. Is it? You don’t know. 

“I... you know you’re more to me than that, right?” He pets your cheek. His touch doesn’t make your skin crawl like Ann’s. His body heat melds into you, enshrining you. You can’t help but lean into his hand. “You liked it, didn’t you? You wanted it? I felt you. I felt how much you liked it.” 

You lower your lashes and wiggle your nose. You nod. Even then, a flicker of the thrill rises in you at the though of him inside of you. It wasn’t bad at all. Scary but not bad. Not compared to Andy. 

“I shouldn’t have run away like that, honey--” 

You flinch and grab his hand. You latch on tightly and shake your head, “don’t... don’t call me honey.” 

His cheeks dimple and his eyes brows slant. His expression softens and he nods, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” 

“It’s okay,” you croak, clinging to his hand as you feel his thick fingers. He’s so much bigger than you but it doesn’t scare you. 

“I meant to stay. I wanted to. To hold you but I... Ann can be a lot, can’t she?” 

Your eyes round and you clamp your lips shut. You don’t say a word. He curls his fingers around the tips of yours. 

“Did she hurt you?” He rasps. 

You look at him. He’s so handsome. Just as handsome as always. 

“A little,” you murmur. 

His face falls and he dips his head down. He lets out a long breath, “I won’t let her do that again.” 

“Okay,” your eyes wander over to watch his hand. The way he holds onto you makes your insides dance. 

“Sweetie,” he intones, “can I.... can I hold you now?” 

Your gaze flits back to him. You quiver as you bob your head up and down, “please.” 

A soft smile curls his lips. He shifts carefully and reluctantly untangles his hand from yours. He lifts the edge of the blanket as he angles his body straight, parallel to yours. He wears only a pair of boxers and a dark red tee. 

As he rests on his shoulder, he leans back to the lamp and flicks the switch. The room darkens as he rolls back to you. He slides his arm beneath you, jostling you just a little. He presses flush to your side and rests his other hand on your stomach. 

“How’s that, sweetie?” 

You shiver and turn onto your side. You loop your arm around him and nestle your head against his chest. You wiggle closer, desperately holding onto him as you close your eyes.  

“I like it,” you inhale his scent, the faint medley of cologne and his sweat. 

“I like it too,” he runs his hand up and down your back.  

You press your hand to his back, “next time... can it just be us?” 

He’s quiet. You can hear his heart beat and your own. His hand crawls up to pet your head. 

“Sure, sweetie, we can figure it out.” 

🕊️

You’re awaken as Steve lets in a flow of cold air. Your arm slips limply onto the bed as he stands in the pale dim, the curtains lit by early morning. You murmur and rub your sleepy eyes as you sit up. 

“Sweetie,” he reaches to tug the blanket up your torso, “you should cover up.” 

You hug the blanket in embarrassment and keep it above your chest. He pushes his hair back and sniffs, inhaling deeply before huffing it out. You shimmy to the edge of the bed as he backs away. 

“Steve?” You babble dumbly. 

“Gotta get breakfast for the kids,” he keeps his voice low. He stops near the foot of the bed, “you should stay in here. I’ll bring you some.” 

“Oh?” You utter. 

“You had a long night,” he says, “and they’re loud in the mornings. Once Ann takes them off to school, we can... we can be together.” 

You hang your head, “okay.” 

“Promise,” he avows, “you need to sleep, huh?” 

You nod and lay back down. He clears his throat and you listen to his footfalls retreat to the door. He opens and shuts it softly. You curl up on your side and watch the shadows that line the baseboards. 

You just need to wait. That’s all. He’ll be back and then you can be together. Just you two. 

Your breath catches as the night before flood into your mind. Ann’s dusky voice tickles up the shell of your ear and her words make you shrink. The way she spoke, not just what she said, it made you feel so small, like nothing. To her, you were just a thing to be used and that’s what she did. 

You close your eyes and pull the blanket tight. You think of Steve and the warmth of him chases away the icy memories. You remember how his cheeks were slightly rosy and the way he felt buried in you. You made him like that. You made him grunt and groan and then he... finished. Inside of you. 

You reach down between your legs and delve your fingers between your folds. You bite your lip and hum. You press your fingers against your clit as it thrums and clamp your hand between your thighs. You keep it there as your body relaxes. Thoughts of Steve coax you back into a half-sleep. 

Between fantasies of his hands and his chest and his smile, you hear voices. Some chirpy, some even, all muffled on the other side of the walls and your subconscious. You sway on the tide of your fatigue, letting it carry you away from the turmoil storming at the back of your mind. 

When you’re next awoken, it’s Steve. As promised, he has breakfast. He sets a plate on the night table and pulls open the curtains tot let in the day. You sit up and the blanket once more unveils your nakedness. It doesn’t bother you like it used to. 

“Sweetie,” he sighs. 

He goes around the bed and finds your duffle on the chair. He takes out one of your shirts and brings it to you. You look down meekly and pull it on. 

“Hope you like pancakes,” he says as he sits on the edge of the bed and takes the plate. He puts it in your lap as you grip it by the edges. You look down at the little flapjacks stamped with the image of a cartoon dog. It makes you feel strange. He has kids... 

“Yeah, I like them,” you sniff and let the plate balance on your legs. You take the cutlery and cut into the fluffy batter. 

“Admittedly, I’m a low effort cook,” he chuckles as he puts his hand on your knee, squeezing through the quilt, “but the syrup’s from Quebec and the blueberries are straight from the grove. Ann and her ladies go berry picking on Sundays.” 

At the mention of his wife, you shrink. You focus on eating as you stomach strips itself from the inside. Before, your appetite was barely a tickle, now it’s vociferous. You’d mostly pushed around the dinner they served last night. 

“That’s nice,” you wisp. 

He’s quiet, rubbing your leg as you chew. 

“What’s going on? You okay?” 

You swallow and take another bite. You need time to figure that out. You don’t think you’ll do that any time soon. 

“I just want to be with you,” you say as you raise your chin, your eyes meeting his. 

He considers you, his lips thinning and slanting. 

“I know. And... I know this isn’t exactly how you pictured it.” 

“Why didn’t...” you begin, pausing to cute another square of pancake. You dab it in the syrup as you bite down on your courage, “why didn’t you tell me you’re married?” 

He’s quiet again. You peek up at him as he stares down. You look at his hand. A golden ring wraps around his finger. You point the fork at it. 

“You never wore that.” 

He tilts his head and takes a deep breath. He meets your eyes. He looks afraid. Of you. No one’s ever looked at you like that. 

“I know. I don’t wear it during session. I’m supposed to ask the questions so I try to be a non-entity with my patients. I’m there to listen,” he pinches the band and twists it, “and it’s... lighter without it.” 

You shove more pancake into your mouth. You frown. You look around the room; a house, a wife, kids... you don’t fit into any of it. 

“I should go home,” your voice cracks with the statement. It’s his turn to wince. 

“Home? You can’t go back to Andy.” 

“No, not there,” you say. 

A vee divets between his brows, “to Amber? No, I don’t think you’re ready for that.” 

“But this place--” 

“You’re welcome here, sweetie.” 

You deflate and poke at the pancakes. You’re not hungry anymore. You scrape the tines of the fork so the flapjack shreds to fluffy strips. 

“I’m just the same as I was anywhere. A burden.” 

“You’re not--” 

“I don’t want to do that again,” you snap. “Last night was... was.... scary.” 

“I know it was new, sweetie, but you had fun, didn’t you?” 

You part your lips and shrug. 

“You came. I felt it. You felt me too, didn’t you?” 

You gape at him. A tingle flows through you as you barely save the plate from sliding off your lap. You grasp it and close your mouth. 

“You did,” he affirms, “you want to be together, don’t you?” 

“Yes,” you whisper. 

“This is how we can be together.” 

“But Ann...” 

“I don’t think you’re seeing this the right way, sweetheart,” he reaches for the plate and you let him take it. He puts it on the table and sidles up the bed. He takes your hand and pulls it towards him. “Don’t look at Ann as just my wife, okay? She’s ours. All three of us are a unit. Think about it.” 

You suck in air and hold it in. Your pulse beats in your temple as you scrunch up your face. You let out the breath slowly as your eyes fall to his hand on yours. It didn’t feel like that when Andy held your head. That felt like a snare, like a cuff around your wrist, a chain tying you down. But when Steve touches you, when he just looks at you, you’re giddy and bright and safe. 

“Really?” You look up at him, “how does that work, though?” 

“Well, she’s my wife but you could be my wife too,” he explains, “and she’s your wife, I’m your husband but I’m hers too. There’s just three of us, sweetie. That’s all. And the kids, they love you.” 

“B-but...” you gulp, “but they’re not mine and... you can’t have two--” 

“Maybe not legally but that’s just paperwork. What right does the government have to tell us who to love,” he covers your hand with his other, rubbing it, “how about tonight, we’ll take it a bit slower, huh? I'll tell Ann to take it easy. It’ll all be up to you, sweetie, okay? You’re in charge.” 

“I... I guess I could... try?” You sputter. 

“Good,” he purrs, “you know, Ann really loves you.” 

“She does?” 

“Oh yeah, of course, and I know you can love her too,” he raises your hand and kisses your knuckles, “because I love both of you.” 

You stare at him, fixating on his lips as he lets your hand back down. You don’t care about all that other stuff, the touching, the licking, the rutting. You just want the little things. 

“What?” He asks, “did I miss something?” He pulls a hand away and wipes his chin, “I kinda scarfed everything down with the kids.” 

“No,” you breathe, “Steve?” Your eyes ping up to his, “I just... I just... I want a kiss. From you. I—It's all I ever wanted. I dreamt about it--” 

“About kissing me?” He giggles. 

“Mhmm,” you nod as you bite your lip. “Ever since... well... I shouldn’t say it.” 

“Since?” He prompts. 

You grin devilishly, “...Thanksgiving.” 

“Thanksgiving?” He repeats, “wow, well, can I tell you a secret?” 

“What?” 

“That’s all I could think about too,” he shifts, moving closer, “come here.” 

He brings his hand up under your chin. He leans in and you quiver, closing your eyes. His lips meet yours and sparks fly, all doubts dissipating. You touch his chest, feeling along the cotton of his shirt. You open your mouth and he accepts the invitation, his tongue invading hungrily as he eats you up. You tilt your head back as you hook your other arm around his neck. 

He parts, his forehead against yours and you puff up at him as he licks his lips, “mm, maple.” 

[amidstnamjin-and-binchanlix]

i don't wanna look at anything else (now that i saw you)

Warnings: Uhhh. Not much. Just some v v light angst, and Jackjack being a teeny tiny bit of a dumbass lil shit. Mentions of alcohol and getting drunk fuk yeah no don't do too much alcohol, kids. body and image insecurities, too.

Pairings: Jackson Wang/Reader

Plot: In another lifetime, another universe, your happy ending has always been in front of you all along.

Genre: light angst, eventual happy ending

And I can still see it all (In my mind)

All of you, all of me (Intertwined)

I once believed love would be (Black and white)

But it's golden (Golden)

And I can still see it all (In my head)

Back and forth from New York (Sneaking in your bed)

I once believed love would be (Burning red)

But it's golden

Like daylight, like daylight

Like daylight, daylight

I don't wanna look at anything else now that I saw you

(I can never look away)

I don't wanna think of anything else now that I thought of you

(Things will never be the same)

I've been sleeping so long in a 20-year dark night

(Now I'm wide awake)

mixtape: all i have left to give - part 1 - part 2 - part 3 - ending 1

Oooooooohhhhweeeeeee

This is crazy

So much has happened since I last posted.

i got psychiatric help so guess who's on meds now? yay (not)

i mentioned here before that when I write the mixtape series, it's not necessarily in chronological order. I already have a rough draft in my mind of how it would go, and I am already planning to write the prequel to the first part, but it won't necessarily mean that it will come first. I also have an idea of what will happen for the ending(s?), but I have yet to muster the energy to write continuously right now bc so much has happened irl

With that being said, my next part will be a glimpse of one of the "what-if" endings. If it irks you that my writings are all over the place, I'm so sorry but I rly cant force my brain to write at one linear pace. As I always say, I hope I don't disappoint, and I'm so sorry if I do.

Thank you so much for loving my babies and for giving them the time of the day. Every time I get a notification of likes/reblogs/kudos/bookmarks, it warms my heart bc wtf it is more than I ever hoped for

thank you so much once again! this part is for those who are rooting for my babie jackjack because hey, he's a fuckin sweetheart and i love him to bits

just a little trigger warning for some insecurities because this is kinda self-projecting, i'm so sorry T_T

🌅

Soft morning light greets you when you open your eyes.

You've always relished in these times—the seconds or minutes of blank bliss and silence in between waking up and lucidity. These are times of peace before facing the storm of the day.

You stare at the ceiling of the room, the cream-colored walls, then the photos that line up your drawers.

So much has happened these past few months. Sometimes, you still can't believe that you've survived through it, that you powered through it. You genuinely thought it would end up killing you, and that you'd die hurting inside out.

But you lived, and you're happy now.

You turn your head to the side to find him, still slumbering. You take a deep breath and dig your fingers into your palm, afraid that this will all be a dream, and that you'll wake up with sweat on your forehead and blood on your lips and sheets.

You honestly would never have made it without him.

The one and only constant in your life, your ride-or-die.

Jackson.

He had been there through everything—the treatments, the hospitalizations, the relapses, and the recovery. He was there to see you fall apart at 3 a.m., see you struggle with breathing at random times of the day, there to see you bleed out from the love you had (have) for the other men who were supposed to love you back unconditionally.

He was there through everything, and he never once let go of your hand.

Sometimes, you think how it would be if you ended up with them; what would happen? Would you be happier? How would it be different from how it is right now?

But then, you think, they never loved you the way you wished to, the way they should've until you were on the brink of death. There would be too much resentment, too much guilt, too much pain. You would never be truly happy.

You feel guilty thinking about these things. You are genuinely happy— happier even—than you've ever been. Jackson never made you feel like you have to be someone else, like you have to live up to someone's high expectations. You never have to cry again, except when he goes on tour and you miss him, or when you're so happy with him that tears just can't help but make confetti in your eyes.

But then, you and Jackson both know that it is inevitable, that the love for the seven men who were once the center of your soul would never really go away. And he's okay with it, you're both okay with it. You've both made peace that they will always be a part of your life. All that matters is Jackson is your home now, that he's the one that you'll come home to. He's the one that you will make a space for in your heart, and the only one that will occupy it and stay for good.

Jackson is home, and he always will be.

You reach out and carefully brush Jackson's hair away from his still-closed eyes. Moments like this you miss the most when he's away on tour and you can't go with him. It gets lonely, but his coming home with the biggest and proudest smile on his face makes everything worth it.

He is worth it, and he always will be.

You scoot closer to his sleeping figure, wrapping your arm around his waist. Februaries are always cold, so his body warmth is heaven-sent. It is also one of the things you miss during times apart. You grew up in a non-affectionate household, touch-starved to the point that you became touch- repulsed. But after getting to know how Jackson feels like home, you can never get enough of his touch. You can never go for too long without it, and you can say you almost reverted to being touch-starved.

You shift to wrap yourself around him, slinging your leg lightly over his. You hear him groan as you bury your face in the crook of his neck, trying not to miss him already. You still have two weeks left before he leaves again for his next tour, but you can already feel the creeping sadness and pit in your stomach.

You're getting separation anxiety again. Maybe it's time to talk to your therapist.

Your fingers find themselves curled on his arms lightly, tracing shapes and absently doodling on his skin. 

"You're up early," comes Jackson's sleep-laden voice, his arms wrapping around your shoulders.

"'m not up yet," you grumble, subtly inhaling the scent of his skin. "And it's already seven AM; not early."

Jackson chuckles. "Okay, okay. No need to get pouty."

You huff. "I'm not pouty," an irony as you can actually feel yourself pout more when he says that. "It's really just not early."

It is early, you actually know it. But you want to spend more time with him before he sets off to wow the whole world again while you stay behind and wait for him to come home, so no, it's not really early.

You feel him kiss your hair. "Ah. I'm still here, but you already miss me." He laughs lightly. "What would you do without me?"

You know it's a joke, but your abandonment issues have been seriously acting up for a while now. You have to swallow before answering.

"I'd die without you," you blink rapidly to stop yourself from crying, trying to keep your tone light. "Terribly, so."

"Hey," Jackson tries to push your shoulder gently to look at your face, but you don't want him to see your crumpled expression.

"Hey, don't cry. It's too early for you to cry." You sniff, not wanting to let go of him. "I'm joking. You can never get rid of me at this point."

"But you can get rid of me," you fail to not sound miserable. "You can find someone else and settle down with them, someone whole."

A pause.

"Someone not broken."

"No." This time, Jackson's tone is firm, almost angry. "I don't like you talking about yourself like this, and I won't get rid of you. Is that what you think of me?"

"No, but you—"

"'But I ' nothing '," he says. He sits you both up and he puts his hands on your shoulders. "I fought nail and tooth just so I can have my happy ending with you. I fought with the law, I fought your soulmates, and I will fight all over again just so I can have this until we grow old and wrinkly. Why would I get rid of someone I've wanted my whole life? That's fucking stupid."

Your lips curl in a slight pout, trembling with all the tears that want to escape. You absently touch your chest, used to the phantom pain that came with the soul-scraping before. It's gone now, but all the things you used to do, used to go through, as well as the painful memories are still here.

"I..." You start, voice hoarse. "Sorry, I just don't want a repeat of that, you know?"

"I know."

"And I know you're not like them, but there are so many reasons things don't work out. And not to be dramatic or what—erm—," you clear your throat, "but I won't survive the next time I go through that again." Not if everything goes into plan, that next step you are planning with him. "It'll kill me."

You won't survive another soul-scraping, you just won't.

"You won't. I won't leave, I promise." Jackson presses a tender kiss on your lips, running his thumb on your cheek as he cradles it gently. "As I said, we'll grow old and wrinkly. We'll be that meme on Facebook where we grow old together and play bump cars with wheelchairs."

You snort softly. "If you damage my rhetorical wheelchair, I'm using yours. You crawl on the ground."

He grins, a lovely sight on his pretty face. "I'll always crawl my way back to you," he croons.

Jackson leans in and captures your lips in a gentle kiss. His hand finds its way inside your top and you flinch unintentionally. He tenses, then pulls away.

"I'm sorry," you hurriedly say.

"Hey," he says, eyes searching your face. "No need to apologize. I'm sorry. We don't need to do anything you don't want to."

"No, no. I want to." You pause, biting your lip. "It's just... my scar." You absently trace your myectomy scar. He looks at you, willing you to go on. "It's ugly." Among all other things.

"You will never be ugly." You open your mouth to retort but he silences you with a serious look. "I love you, scars and all. But as I said, we don't have to do anything. I just want to spend my time with you, and I'm good."

God, you think, I really think I'll marry you.

You surge up with a fierce kiss to his lips, taking your top off before you can change your mind.

"Wait, wait." Jackson puts his hand on yours, stopping you from taking your shirt off. "No."

"No?" You swallow thickly.

"No, not like that," he says hurriedly, seeing your mood shift. "Is it a good day?"

You know what he means, and it is not.

"No," you agree in a small voice. "It isn't."

You've gotten far from your insecurities, but they sometimes come back sneakily, like they did yesterday and today, of all days.

"We can keep your shirt on if you'd like?" he offers.

You take one look at him. Yup, you'll definitely marry him.

"Please?" You implore with your eyes.

He smiles softly. "Then we keep your shirt on."

His smile turns wicked.

"Won't stop me from eating you out from under it, though."

---

"Mark!"

"No," Mark says flatly. "You're not backing out of this."

"But—"

"Do you love him?" he asks.

"Yes!"

"Do you want to marry his ugly face?"

"He's not ugly, but yes!"

"Do you want to spend your lifetime kissing his ugly face?"

"Again, my Jackson is not ugly, but yes, I do!"

"Did you change your mind then?"

"Y—no, I did not!"

"Then why are you backing out?!"

"Because what if he doesn't want to?" [Name] bursts out to which Mark snorts impatiently. "What if doesn't want that for life? That's a lifetime of commitment, Mark. I can't undo that shit."

"You think he would want to?" Mark asks, almost angry, his patience growing thin. He rolls his eyes to heaven when he sees you in near tears.

"He wants to marry your equally ugly face," to which you splutter a 'hey!', "he talks, breathes, and sleeps nothing but [Name], [Name], [Name]." He sighs.

"Do you really think he would let go of you now?"

You know at this point that your fear is redundant and irrational, but you can't help it. Not when your own (ex-)soulmates didn't want you. It took you almost dying, and choosing your dignity and self-respect before they turned around. And even then, it was too late. Your soul is having none of it.

Mark softens at your silence. "Did you talk to your therapist about this?"

You nod. "Yeah. He said that I should start forgiving myself and moving forward and that I should believe that not everyone is like them. Not everyone will leave me."

"He's right. We won't leave you. We're stuck with you, just like how you're stuck with us. Okay?"

"Okay."

"Okay, good. Now, give me my hug because I just got from a long tiring flight because someone didn't want me to ride her private jet." He glares at you.

You laugh. "I told you, I need to fly here earlier than you since you can't cancel your meeting."

"You could've—I don't know—waited for me, maybe?" He pulls you in a tight hug.

Before you two can pull away, however, you both hear the sounds of Jackson's voice and the door opening.

Oh, shit.

You two freeze on your hug. You don't understand why you did but you just feel guilty, like being caught with your hand down your pants. You and Mark pull away from each other quickly.

"What's this? Hugging without me, huh?" Jackson jokes, but you can hear the slight insinuation in his voice, one that Mark does as well.

"Yeah, I'm stealing your girlfriend, Wang. Watch out." Mark smirks lightheartedly.

This bitch!

Jackson's eyebrow twitches. "You wish." They embrace in a brief hug before he turns to you with a soft smile on his pretty face.

Wow. Years in and you still can't get your heart to shut up over his smile.

"Hey," he says softly. "This is a very nice surprise."

"I missed you and the bed was cold," you pout slightly. "So here I am."

"Ah, I knew it. You just want a bed warmer." In the background, you can hear Mark fake gag, and Jackson gives him the finger.

"No, I want my Jackson not an electric blankie, smartass."

"Your Jackson, huh?" Mark fake gags again, and you smile at Jackson's 'fuck off, Tuan'.

"This is not what I signed up for, so I'm leaving you lovebirds to it."

"About time." This time, it's Jackson who grumbles, and you and Mark both laugh. "Shut up."

---

The next few days of the tour see Jackson busier than ever, and so are you. With the tour coming to its end, you scramble to get the last steps of your surprise into place. After all, Jackson deserves the best, and you don't want to give him any less.

This also means that you both get to see less of each other. You miss him and it sucks, and Jackson sometimes gets to receive the burnt of it, unfortunately.

"Hey. It's okay, everything's going to be okay," he says. You are so close to bursting and just saying fuck it, but you can't, so you let out a frustrated growl.

"It is not, stop saying that again and again." It is not. The local producer and local venue producer are being tough nuts to crack for some unknown reason, and are uncooperative. They are the only remaining people you need in on the plan, so it is taking too much time and effort on your part. Not that Jackson is not worth it, but the headache is just a bitch to deal with. "It really isn't so I ask you to kindly fuck off, Jackson. I don't need you patronizing me right now."

"Hey," he says firmly, his jaw heavy set. "I'm not doing anything, so don't take your shit out on me."

Ah, shit.

"Jacks—"

"Is it because I'm taking much of your time?"

"What?"

"Is it because I'm taking your time away to be with Mark?"

Your jaw drops. "Excuse me?"

"You think I don't see how you spend your time with him? How close you two seem to be nowadays?"

Aw, hell no.

"Jackson, no. What the fuck?"

"No, no. It's okay. You don't need to explain, you know? If you want to be with Mark-hyung, it's fine. I'm not gonna stand in the way."

"What are you talking about? Are you saying I'm cheating on you?" you ask in disbelief.

Jackson shakes his head. "I'm saying that if you want to be with him, you don't need to start picking fights just so we can break up." His eyes turn sad. "I'll let you go, you just have to ask."

Your chest hurts at that, stirring up old feelings you thought you'd never be able to feel again. "And you're gonna let me go, just like that?"

Silence.

You laugh humorlessly. "Wow. And you think of me that way, too."

"[Name]—"

"No." You thank whatever fuck there is that you had the foresight to book a separate room to plan your surprise (not that you sleep in it, with you opting to always sleep beside Jackson since arriving) and take your bag from the chair by the window of the suite.

"Thank you for clearing that shit up. At least I know now where I stand."

Jackson grasps your wrist delicately. "Sweetheart—"

You pull your wrist away from him. "Don't 'sweetheart' me, Jackson." He stops at the sight of the brimming tears in your eyes, the hurt painted in it.

"I trusted you with shit, you knew how I abhor those things you accuse me of. You knew how I hated my mom because of the things she did, and yet you dared think I am like her."

"I didn't—"

"Yes, you did, Jackson. Because if you only knew how full I am of you since the day I let those bastards go from my life." You sniff. "It's only and always been you, you, and you. Everyone knew that; everyone knows that."

"I don't—"

"Yeah, you don't. So I'll spare you the time and just leave you be. I never plan to force myself into something or someone, and I don't plan to start now."

Jackson tries to refute that it isn't the case, but you slam the door shut in his face behind you before he can even get a word in.

[ah, these kids. what do i do with you two?]

Jackson looks at the door you just slammed shut in his face, then to the dresser in his suite that you never opened. You two had always been intertwined, but you always gave him his space and privacy. He walks towards it, opens it, and takes the velvet box with the sparkling ring in it.

All I can say is you two are idiots, and everyone will agree with me.

---

"You what?!"

You grumble, shielding your bottle away from Mark. "Please don't shout at me, I'm already having a hard time as it is." You try to pull off your pitiful face, but Mark only makes his own face at you.

To be fair, Mark finds you pitiful, but not in that way. And he kind of wants to punch Jackson in the face right now too because seriously, you and Mark? It's like him and his sisters, what the actual fuck?

He can't blame the man, however. Everyone in the circle knows how Jackson has been wounded by the relationships he was in before, so it's easier for him to switch to defense mode. Jackson has always been prone to leave before he gets left when he feels like the other party is slowly losing interest.

But the dumbass has always been prone to the dumbest dumbassery in the group. And this? This takes the cake, Mark could roll his eyes to heaven.

"And you didn't bother to, I don't know, explain shit to him?" he asks with the patience of a saint.

You pout. You had the audacity to pout and Mark feels the patience slowly slipping away from him. "No. It's not gonna be a surprise anymore if I do."

Holy fuck.

"Are you shitting my dick right now?" he mutters. You only snort and Mark pulls away the bottle from you.

"Hey!"

"Listen to me. It's not gonna be a surprise anymore if you two break up because there'll be no one to surprise. You know he is a dumbass and you decided to be a dumbass too?"

"Hey! He accused me first! I didn't accuse him anything when he shot that sexy ass shoot with the ashes and stuff—"

"—Cruel." Mark supplies helpfully.

"Yes, that. I didn't do that with the main dancer when they've been cute and friendly and shit off cam, and yet he accuses me with you." You belch and gag, and Mark steps away slightly from you to avoid any impending projectile vomiting. "Like 'ew'."

"I agree with you, but how dare you, bitch? Are you saying I'm 'ew'?"

You level him with a look as much as you can with your drunk face, and Mark has never had the urge to headlock a woman before.

"Anyway," you say forlornly, "at least I know where we stand now." You sniff, and Mark feels bad for you (a little).

"No, you really don't. I thought that by now, you would know how he is."

"You weren't there when he said it!" You burst out angrily. "He means it! Do you know how it feels standing there and being practically told that he knows I'll leave him for other people, and that he'll let me?" You burp loudly again. "Me, of all people? When he knew how I detest that shit. With all the things I went through?"

And then you burst into ugly sobs.

[ah, jackson. you really are one dumbass.]

"Hey, hey, no," Mark says, wrapping his arms around you. "Don't cry. You're not allowed to cry. Doctor Im told you you're still healing; you're not even allowed to drink."

"Yet here I am," you say with a shaky laugh that morphs into another sob. "Again."

You're not sure if you're just talking about drinking or the fact that you're on the brink of losing yourself again over lost relationships. It's tiring, really. But it is what it is, as they say.

"Can you—can you please get my bag?" you ask Mark. "By the door, tossed it earlier," you slur.

You've never really shown Mark the ring you want to propose to Jackson with. Mark assumed that it is flashy, and you're never one for flashy things, so you're embarrassed about it.

That's not it, however. Completely the opposite, actually. The engagement ring is totally simple, a silver band encrusted with small diamonds on top. The only flashy thing about it is the bigger diamond heart in the center and the smaller gems that surround it on both sides.

The smaller gems are the highlights, you think. You took them from the necklace with both the birthstones that were gifted by Jackson to you during your first year anniversary and had them cut delicately to fit the ring you had in mind. On the right heart side are your birthstones, while on the left are Jackson's. You know some might find it too feminine, and Jackson might not be able to wear it that much in his line of work, but the ring is the most beautiful thing you have ever created in your life.

And now, Jackson won't be able to see it. That thought brings you to a fresh round of tears.

"Too girly, isn't it?" You ask Mark, who is silent. "And it should be the other way around—he should be the one asking me to marry him. I still would've asked him to marry me with this, Mark. That's how I don't give a shit. I just wanna marry his ugly face, but now I can't."

"You wanna marry me?" Comes a soft voice behind you and Mark. You jerk away, and Mark gently unwraps his arms around you as Jackson steps forward.

"I'll let you lovebirds talk," Mark says as he pulls away, but your wide eyes (as wide as bloodshot eyes can be) are only trained on Jackson. Mark pats Jackson's shoulder with a low 'we'll talk later', and Jackson only nods. It is silent until Mark closes the door behind him.

"You wanna marry me?" Jackson asks again. "You're gonna ask to marry me, [Name]?"

You can only nod, your eyes shut as your tears don't stop falling.

"Stay here," he only says. It's not like you're going anywhere, so you stay put. However, when five minutes turn to fifteen, then to twenty, you start to think that Jackson has either gone to sleep or gone off to god knows where. Before you can even think about getting up and running after him, the door to your suite opens.

"Come here, stand up." Jackson takes your hand and helps you stand up. He wipes your face with his hand, then with the cold cloth that someone hands him (whom you recognize is one of his staff). Other staff start to fuss over you as someone turns on the overhead lights.

"Wait, what?" you ask as someone starts to powder your face. "What's happening?"

You turn to Jackson, who's being ushered into a suit. You are ushered yourself by the few staff he had roped into helping into the other room to change into a tulle sweetheart dress.

"We're getting married."

---

"So, Jackson..." You hear the host through the speakers start his next question as you wait backstage with Mark. Even with the elopement, you're still going through with your plan.

That other plan.

"No," Mark says flatly. "You're not backing out of this."

Here we go again, but this time, Mark is a little less pissed and more exhausted with your shenanigans.

"No, I'm just saying. Maybe I should do this in private instead? This is the equivalent of putting a girl on the spot with marriage proposals, which, for the record, I absolutely detest because fuck having choice and not cornering them into whatever they want, right?"

"While I do agree with you, he'll pee his pants and probably hump you if you do this than to be put off, trust me," Mark says. "And besides, everything is ready. All it needs is the execution."

Mark has a point.

Before you can wimp out again, you hear your name being called to an uproar of cheers. You're lucky Jackson's fanbase is mostly supportive of your relationship since you two came out a few years ago, though it is not without some minor hiccups and a few outrage from the unsupportive ones. What matters however is you lucked out, and you can never be more grateful.

"[Name] [Last Name], ladies and gentlemen!" You hear the host say as you see Jackson's blinding grin when you step out from the backstage.

Oh, you swoon. My smitten darling [Name].

Steady, girl.

"So, Miss [Last Name]—"

"It's Mrs. Wang, actually." You hear gasps from the audience, and Jackson's blinding grin turns lovelier and wider. "We actually got married in secret, and you forgot this at home." You hand him his ring as you grin mischievously.

"Okay, Peeta Mellark." Jackson rolls his eyes good-naturedly as he slips on his ring. "What a way to break it to them."

"My, my." The host fans himself with a wide smile. "Is this what you meant when you told me you'll be getting me a high rating?"

"I hope so," you say sheepishly. "If it doesn't, then no worries. I still have another trick in my hat. Don't you worry."

You look at Jackson and can't help but laugh inwardly at his clueless smile.

Oh, dear.

The interview goes without a hitch, with it mostly centered on your married life. You were originally nervous about how it would turn out, but it had been so far so good. Nobody threw shoes, and all that happened was a little 'booooo' when asked if you had had your honeymoon yet (which not yet, because you were both busy for a while after his tour).

"So, [Name]," the host asks again with a little waggle of his eyebrows. "What is this other trick of yours you mentioned earlier?"

Ah, shit. Here we go.

"Ah." Your smile turns a little serene, and you see Jackson sit up straighter in his seat. Nobody would notice it if they are not in tune with him, but he practically owns your whole soul, and you'd like to think that you do his, too, so you notice it.

"Have I told you my story about my soulmates?"

The host shakes his head. "Pray, do tell."

"Well, not everyone gets lucky with theirs. Everyone knows that." You smile sadly, the audience turning quiet.

"Yes, of course. A very sad fact that everyone is very well acquainted with." The host smiles sympathetically at you.

"I used to think it was the end of the world when mine didn't want anything to do with me. I kept thinking that something was wrong with me, that maybe I was really not worth their time. That maybe I was meant to suffer and die hurting."

You pause, then you look at Jackson. "But then I realize, I have you," you say softly.

You look back at the host.

"What more can I ask for when I have him?"

Your smile turns happier as the audience lets out a quiet 'aww'.

"I really like doing things unconventional and my way so..."

You bite your lower lip as you look once again at Jackson, who has his eyes trained on you and hanging on to every word you say.

"Would you give me the honor of being my forever soulmate, Jackson?"

It was like a time warp. The moment he said yes, cheers erupted, and everything blurred and warped in your ears. All your fears, all the hurt and pain? It was gone.

This is your happy ending, you deserve it, my dear [Name].

Go live it.

---

Meanwhile, somewhere a thousand miles away, a group of young men smile sadly at what could have been, and what was lost. Their chests perpetually ache with the loss of a piece of a soul they can never get back.

[zukkacore]

you reblogged that director's cut ask meme and i KNEW exactly already the scene. towards the end where it starts with:

"Disappointment. “Look. Whatever fantasy you’re trying to cling to, I don’t want any part of it. If you need anything, get another me to do it for all I care. I’m just—done playing house, Porter.” to "How ridiculous."

OR anything about the pomegranate tree which. i put my phone down to stare at the ceiling when the pomegranate tree was mentioned.

HIiiii!!!!! Thank you so much for sending me this honestly you picked a good one.

Ok. this scene is crazy bc i think it was the flashback scene that felt the most necessary to include. Not the one i fought the hardest for (jace good/bad teacher you have my heart ended up making sense but for a long time i was like cut that shit. You know you just want to be indulgent. Until i realized the ratgrinders haunt the narrative). Nor the one that feels the most. Obvious I guess? Or the most evocative? (The one where they're at Porter's house feels like so vivid and real to me not like necessarily bc of my writing its just like real in my mind like if Jace is reading Porter's memories there's definitely something in there that is just Precious and Heartbreaking and Deeply Ironic and almost simplistically affectionate in its portrayal of the Old Jace.

Anyway. This scene in the backyard felt. Necessary I guess? But i also worried i was trying too hard to make it work. It actually wasn't even really originally about Frosty Fair. Like. Jace still was walking out bc of a fight abt the ratgrinders but it was more abstract? I think the fact that its like ruben was getting attacked by grix is a throughline though for jace taking damage for TRGs in the forest. The ratgrinders were not originally going to be this like chekovs gun and like i honestly felt kinda bad that i was like. hm. awfully convenient for Jace to forget abt them so quickly in favor of getting. some dick but also like that's the whole POINT. I was like. Well i can at least highlight how absurd that is by making him ashamed but not really altruistic enough to do anything about it. But its like. Kinda the throughline now.

Originally I was like. Honestly rly embarrassed bc i felt like Jace taking damage in the forest was such a contrived way to get him and Porter to hook up like oooooh patching up injuries how original. But I feel like. There's a whole subplot kinda ABOUT jace taking the damage now. Now the whole story is about how he cares.

And post-Jace HATES that that's the reason Porter brought him on b/c he's so alienated from that version of himself, and he's disgusted with himself for feeling like he's never doing enough or caring enough. For being neglectful and running away. So when Porter grabs his wrist in the memory,

“I don’t think so, Stardiamond. You want this to work. You care, you always have. I know that’s who you still are.”

it's like. He's not seeing Jace for who he is. He's still clinging to the past. But also don't think he's completely wrong. Because jace does take that damage in the forest. He always had that capacity to care in him.

Anyway. I'll backtrack to the. Top of the scene tho.

Disappointment. “Look. Whatever fantasy you’re trying to cling to, I don’t want any part of it. If you need anything, get another me to do it for all I care. I’m just—done playing house, Porter.

Ok so this comes right after the whole. Jace wants Porter to acknowledge what he means to him. & Porter only mentioning his utility to The Plan. So. In my Mind the fantasy that Porter clings to about Jace and the fantasy Porter clings to about the house of sunstone heir of the cliffbreakers thing is made of the same stuff. It's all a glorious past that has been lostt to him. It's all something he's desperately trying to cling to.

There's also the fact that Jace says "I'm done playing house, Porter" (which i know is epilogue coded what can i say we get metatextual up in here). But. To me that's about. This idea of family. Porter feels he's been denied something of his lineage. In his mind he's doing this for his family as well as himself. I really wanted there to be something in there about Jace basically saying like. Why do you need to do this for your family. I'm your family. But it felt too on the nose and maybe not true to the character. B/c like. What family? The whole Jaceporter and the ratgrinders make up like a shitty fucked up fall of the house of usher type family is so real to me. But the thing is. That's a fantasy. Most of the ratgrinders are shatterstarred. Porter is clinging to something that doesn't exist.

And he says "if you need anything, get another me to do it for all I care." which. I think I needed to justify something within the text... But besides that. "get another me to do it" is so like. I think there's two things in there. 1) Jace is talking about his own replaceable nature within the plan. Calling attention to the fact that Porter actually COULD replace him, he just doesnt want to because he wants it to be jace. He just won't say that he'll say i need you you're so important blah blah. 2) obviously that's a bit of a jaceclone reference. He's saying literally another me, and long as I personally get that distance from you idc.

already talked abt the you care line so I'm gonna skip past it.

Another swing of Bigby’s Hand. This time, it’s a miss, and it dissipates—too rattled to concentrate. Jace seethes. “I don’t give a fuck what you think of me, or about who your Jace was. I’m —”

Ok. So like. I've talked about this a little bit, but I actually I do have a soft spot for the guardians of the galaxy 3 i actually think its pretty good and i don't like peter and gamora really but i think gotg3 uses them in very interesting ways b/c Quill keeps trying to insist that this gamora (a gamora from another time who never experienced the movies) should live up to the gamora from his memories. The line i actually really like is "What are you so afraid of within yourself that you need me to be something for you" which AAAAGGGGHHHH i feel sick about is very jaceporter to me. (The other scene that is very them is gamora saying “you know. I’m still not who you want me to be” and him going “yeah but who you are ain’t so bad” “I bet we were fun” “like you wouldn’t believe.” PORTER YEARNS FOR OLD JACE BUT ALSO ?? DID OLD JACE LOVE HIM TO THE POINT OF INVENTION?)

I don't think Porter would ever refer to the old jace as His Jace but I definitely think this jace conceives of it that way. & this is even more fucked bc PORTER put him here. That shit just happened to Gamora. PORTER is the one that wanted to actualize and use Jace but also misses who he used to be. And porter isn't wrong that this jace has the capacity to be as "good" at the old jace, but he's definitely not willing to acknowledge the harm he's caused or the pain this jace is in. I almost ended the exchange with "I'm Jace" but i felt like that also would be too on the nose. The fact that the name Jace is inherently a little bit silly does take a bit of the bite away. Sorry bestie beloved but its true ur name is ridiculous.

I think so much of this fic is Jace reconciling that he wants to be loved but he doesn't know in which way. Like. On the one hand he's saying please love as I am—as a person who has undergone irreconcilable trauma, different and the same. On the other hand he's saying please love me as I am— as the doggish, devoted frankenstein's creation that can't help but love his creator. And I think there's a little bit of both here. A little bit of Why are you asking for the old jace when i am what i am, the person you made, someone else, and i'm RIGHT HERE. And its a little bit of Why are you asking for the old jace expecting me to be something i no longer recognize, can you at least acknowledge that this trauma has changed me, that i feel different, that i feel as if i can never go back. But maybe those are the same thing

I also want a brief sec to talk abt that bigby's hand. I just wanted something that would leave a large impact i think? Like. this is such a WEIRD pull but i was watching that dirty laundry w/ brennan in which he talks abt getting in a car crash where the car trenches a hole in the grass and stops just shy of a woodchuck hole and he starts laughing in shock. I thought abt that a lot in the scene with the Motivational Poster bc of the laughing of shock but i also liked that imagery i guess of trenching a crater.

Pain, as the rage crystals and untamable arcana course through his veins—he can feel it in the present, too—and then the Jace in the memory surges so bad that he passes out on the lawn, but not before frying the nearby pomegranate tree to a crisp with a jolt of lightning. Jace turns away from that one as if flinching from a raised hand. Despite everything, he wishes most of all to apologize about the tree. He could laugh. How ridiculous.

Im playing a little loose with sorcery stuff but aint that the sorcery way i guess. Anyway I like in other fic when Jace has a hard time controlling his sorcery due to being shatterstarred as a way of being like yeah he's discordant with himself. Its sooooo good. I think the rage here is a little bit his and Porters. I don't know if thats how it works in the text but i made the call that jace's rage can also incite the crystal to act up.

OK SO lastly. THANK YOU FOR BRINGING UP THE POMEGRANIT TREE JUST BC ITS FUN even tho its literally is like. Yeah I love Hadestown and Jaceporter are soooooo persephades / orphydice coded. I liked the imagery of his surge being so bad that it kills the something dear to Porter in the garden, and I was like. Frying a tree sounds cool. And I was like. Well if its gonna be a fruit tree of COURSE it can't be any old tree it has to be a pomegranite tree. OF COURSE. And it's not stated but i do think it kinda was the centerpiece of that garden. And of course like. A pomegranate on its own already means a lot. In terms of like. Death n rebirth Persephades and this idea of the cycles of the seasons and leaving n returning and the overlap with this idea of like, corruption and a Fall from grace

Also a shoutout to my ability to neglect real world facts. "Lily, white, and Poppy red. I trembled as he laid me out. " Yeah, Porter decimated the poppies in the fight. They're completely out of season but we can play pretend.

I do think him wanting to apologize for the tree is like. Such a funny moment. I think after i wrote what happened to the tree i felt bad for said tree. There is something really sad abt that. So i think Jace would feel bad about destroying something that takes so long to grow, that Porter cares about, and find away to blame himself even tho Porter is the one who started everything.

Anyway. This scene felt. Necessary bc i think there needed to be some semblance of showing them in like. Actual conflict. at the time i actually did NOT know that THIS would be THE FIGHT in the exhange that Porter was talking about earlier. When he said "i thought you meant it this time". i mean. its not explicit but I do think there's a finality to the interaction that implies that yes. Jace was fucking serious this time. And again there's that throughline of the ratgrinders haunting the narrative. About Jace caring and feeling like he's never caring enough.

Like, so much of the story is ABOUT Porter looking right past jace and i felt like there should be scene that. Says it outright. But also. Not being completely wrong. IMO. B/c I also think Jace was threatened by the version of himself that porter sees. And he thinks he doesn't live up to that. he COULD never live up to that. (And in some ways he does. In some ways. He's might even be perfect in his own way. He kinda loved Porter to the point of invention so)

[viisator]

The Prince of Elfhame

Tittle: The Prince of Elfhame

Pairings: Nishimura Riki X F!Reader

Genre: Fantasy

Summary: Niki is the only son of Jude and Cardan Greenbriar, and he has a human maid, but his maid and he don't get along pretty well, and he has this secret crush on her that he's bitter about, he couldn't believe he's liking a human maid, it's just not on his ligue.

Warning: none

Not Proofread

Short scenario • • •

INSPIRED BY "The Folk Of The Air" by Holly Black

– Can I have a request, please? After/before you read this(thanks for checking this out btw) like or reblog, or both; is really appreciated!! And it will help my blogs reach other ppl too!! Thank you!! Have a good time reading!! –

(I CAN FINALLY SHOW MY LOVE FOR THE FOLK OF THE AIR!!!)

(The devil's contract isn't finished yet, that's why I wrote this so the wait is quite worth it...and it's been a lot of months since I posted the teaser and until now I haven't finished the story:'( I really really am sorry)

• • • • •

Y/n have been walking upstairs of the palace where she would be serving his highness the prince, a cup of his afternoon chocolate tea with a strawberry on top. 

Ever since she'd been to Elfhame, all she ever felt was a surprise; and it's been four years since she'd been there. The first thing she was shocked with was her Majesty the Queen, she never thought a human would be ruling a kingdom of faeries; she often wondered if the Queen was ever been afraid, and the fact that humans can always be harmed by glamours, but she still stands so tall whenever they stumble upon each other; but what surprised her the most was that the prince- son of the king and queen- was always been kind with everyone except her.

They first met at the ball, the very first ball she ever attended on Elfhame. There was dancing and laughter with singing, and people who only care for free food. There was a loud bang in the hallway on the outside when the knights on the stand announced that the prince has come. Everyone cheered - the loudest was the king - and girls heave deep sighs as they hear the name 'prince' when the door opened and a tall young man, hair as black as the night, lips lump with rose tint, pointed ears, and a kind smile that convinced everyone that he should be loved; and Y/n was caught by it. She also heaves deep-long sigh and all she could ever think is that he looks more majestic than any other creature she has encountered here in Faerie.

That night didn't end up the way Y/n had dreamt of, the prince- Nikael Greenbriar - seems to not like her face so much. The first encounter was at the table of sweets when Y/n grabbed a strawberry tart with extra cream and microwaved(seem so) strawberry on top, and Nikael -mostly known as Prince Niki- grabbed her hand tight and shoots her a glare that almost poked through her eyes. They stayed staring at each other for a while then the price yanked away the tart from the girl's hand and walked away. And that's how everything ended at the ball.

One day, Minji, one of your faerie friends, told you that the palace needs one more worker for the laundry work, and that's the start of your getting promoted as the prince's maid. But everything just didn't work well, and it seems like the prince hold grudges since the night you stole his tart.

As you open the door, Niki is laying down on the couch while he's staring up at the ceiling.

"You spend two hours making tea?" He gave you bored looks and a sigh, unfortunately, your attention is on the tea; and when you finally put the teapot down, you straighten your back and answered him.

"Fourty-three minutes your highness. It was never an hour or more." He hated the way that you smile with so much sarcasm. He hated that you stares back at him with no slight bother. And he hated you the most because you always make him feel powerless, but of course, he'll never tell you that. Not anyone.

He answered you with a short eye roll and a groan. Three minutes had passed and you're standing still at his side as he consumes his tea very slowly, waiting for his next order.

"Do you hate me?" After three minutes long of silence, you were surprised by what he asked you. You barely know what to say.

"Why would I, your highness, my prince? I've no complaints even though I have more than a hundred, I still have no complaints, and I should never hate you. And that is because I don't-"

-like you? Was that it? you don't like me?" He shift his look to you, his brows meeting each other as you gave him another sweet smile.

"Your highness, I will be very honest. I hate you with every inch of my being." Your stare was intense, it made him put his teacup down and look at you fully. He was very much surprised you could say such things that never, not even one had ever told him.

"How about you, your highness, how much do you hate me?" He did not answer, but instead, he got up and walked out and shut the door loudly.

The next thing that happened is at the dining hall, when the king, queen, the queen's sister and her child, prince Oak, and prince Niki are eating dinner. You were standing at the side with the other maids when Niki keeps on looking at you, but when you make eye contact he abruptly changes his view, either to his food or to his uncle who keeps on talking. Niki is very loud whenever he talks with his uncle, but always quiet when the King is in view. So when the King talks and brought out a topic concerning Niki, he slams his utensils down and got up from his chair and walked out. And you guess he loves to walk out whenever he's mad. And nobody stopped him.

The next scene was in the garden when the Queen asked you to follow him and let him talk of what had offended him with his father's word. You see him by himself sitting on the well-cut grass, while you were standing close to his back.

"Why did you walk out again?"

"He said something about what a prince should do. But he never saw my efforts! that I always try to be a better prince and all he can see are the things I did not do. The things I couldn't do!" You were a little surprised he said those openly in front of you without hesitation.

You sit down beside him and you listen to his thoughts until it's nearly daytime.

"It's nearly time for bed...thank you Y/n, I never had someone to talk to either than my uncle. And it's been a while since I let someone hear my concerns." The morning sunlight that hits his face was yellowish red, his side view was the most beautiful view you've ever seen. He looks so majestic. The most beautiful faerie you think there is to live.

"Why do you hate me?" It was an inch distance between you two, and you were lost in his eyes that you think it was glamour that made you advance more and put your warm lips into his plumpy rose red lips and he gladly return the kiss.

His question was never answered, and after that night when the sun finally stands tall, you both got to bed, and the next day, everything seems to be normal again with your daily dose of bickering, but it seems different from the previous fights because he doesn't smile or laugh after the arguments before. But he'll never say he likes you, and so do you.

(I hope you liked it<3)

Masterlist

©® Viisator 2023

[bitchin-beskar]

i can't link The Post but i found this

First Kiss

Rating: M Pairing: College!Athlete!Roommate!Paz x Fem!Reader (Bunny) Warnings: First kiss between best friends, inherent attraction that comes with that, unresolved (for now) sexual tension, lil bit of grinding/groping over the clothes Word Count: 1.8k A/N: Ok so @catsnkooks sent me this post and @maybege reblogged it too, so I reblogged it from her, if you wanna look for it it's under the tag #car!paz vibes. But the gif above is from the post, to give u a little hint of what we're working with. This takes place back when Paz and Bunny are still in high school, so before anything I've posted so far and before the first chapter of The Roommate Arrangement which will be posted very soon 😏 So this is before Paz and Bunny have started having sex, and before they're even in college.

"It's so frustrating!" You moaned, flopping back dramatically on your best friend's bed. "I swear, I've gotta be the only one!"

"Now you're jus' being dramatic, rabbit."

You rolled your head to the side, shooting a glare at the back of your best friend's head from where he sat on the floor by the headboard, his back leaning against the mattress.

"I am not Paz." You whined petulantly. "I've gotta be the only girl at our school who hasn't had her first kiss yet. I'm a junior for Maker's sake! It's embarrassing."

He'd been fiddling with something in his hands, but he set it down and turned to rest his shoulder against the mattress, looking at you with his gorgeous green eyes. His dark brown hair flopped over his forehead, giving him a boyish look even though puberty had very clearly marked him as a man now.

"This is really botherin' you, huh?"

You huffed, rolling your head back to look up at his ceiling, eyeing the glow in the dark stars the two of you had put up years and years ago. You let the silence hang for a moment, before you sighed, unable to keep anything from him, like always.

"My sister was bitchin' at me about it," you muttered, a small frown on your face. "I dunno how she knows, but she does. Keeps makin' fun of me." You sniffed, trying very hard to hold back tears.

Paz said your name softly, but you resolutely refused to look at him. He was right, you were being dramatic, it was such a stupid thing to be upset about.

"Rabbit, look at me."

There were gentle fingers on your chin, turning your face to see Paz kneeling at the side of his bed, his face soft and concerned. Your tears began to slowly slide down your cheeks and he sighed softly.

"C'mere, you."

You scrambled off the bed and into his waiting arms, legs landing on either side of his thighs as you settled in his lap and wrapped your arms around his neck, burying your face in the fabric of his hoodie. His own arms came up to wrap around your back, holding you securely against him as you stifled sobs in his arms.

He didn't say anything, just softly rubbed your back while you let out the bottled up hurt from your sister's cruel words. Paz was no stranger to comforting you when your family spit cruel barbs or harsh words, their insults always working their way under your skin and settling like weights, holding you down like an anchor when you're trying to not drown at sea.

You sniffled, pulling back and rubbing at your eyes to get rid of the last of your tears. You hated crying, but Paz never made you feel lesser for it. He never judged, or made fun, unlike your family.

His fingers were warm and sure against your cheek, tilting your head up slightly to look at him. He had a determined look on his face, the kind you'd seen whenever he'd set his mind to something that he wanted desperately to accomplish.

"Do you want it?"

A crease appeared between your brows, and you tilted your head slightly. "Do I want what?"

"Your first kiss."

You blinked. Was he not listening to you? You'd just told him–

"Cause if that's what you want, I can give it to you."

Freezing, you stared at Paz with wide eyes. He can't have possibly just suggested what you thought he did. Sure, he was your best friend, but offering to be your first kiss, that had to be crossing some kind of line, right?

Although, the more you thought about it, the more you realized that if there was anyone you trusted with something as important as a first kiss, it'd be Paz. He'd been by your side your whole life, a steady, reassuring presence. And you may have wondered what it'd be like, to kiss him. He'd had girlfriends before, and you'd heard whispers in the halls. So sue you for being curious.

"A-Are you serious?" You asked, voice breaking slightly. You already knew the answer, it was written plain on his face.

He answered you anyways.

"Of course I'm serious, rabbit. I promise I'll make it good for ya."

You gulped. Maker, were you really considering this? Your mind was screaming at you that this was a bad idea, a horrible one even, that the only thing that could come from this was a ruined relationship with your best friend. But your heart wasn’t listening, and your heart is what answered for you.

"Okay," you whispered, wide eyes flittering over Paz's face, watching very closely for his reaction. You were hoping, praying, that this wasn't some kind of cruel trick.

He smiled, all teeth, a little crooked, but beautiful. This was your best friend, and you trusted him with everything. You didn't have anything to worry about.

He leaned forward, his forehead pressing gently against your own, his nose brushing yours, his eyes dropping to stare at your lips before they fluttered shut, and then he was kissing you.

His fingers spread wide against your cheek, gently tilting your head back as he pressed his lips to yours, gentle, like the kiss of a butterfly's wings. Your eyes were hooded, but still open, unable to close them for fear of him disappearing if you did, like a mirage, or a whisper of a dream.

All too soon he pulled back, and your lips parted slightly as though to complain or maybe to beg him to do it again. You didn't get the chance when he pressed back in, his tongue peeking out from between his lips and darting briefly between your parted lips, flicking up to brush over your upper lip.

Your breathing was shaky, eyes still partially open even as Paz's stayed shut, his nose brushing repeatedly against yours as his tongue painted your lips with a glossy sheen of his saliva.

He pressed his mouth fully to yours again, the kiss much wetter now, the sound of his lips sliding against yours audible in the stillness of his room. It felt like time was suspended and the two of you were floating inside a bubble, and that the tiniest interruption could shatter this perfect moment.

Paz pulled away again, gripping your face between his forefinger on your cheek and thumb against your jaw as he tilted your head the opposite way and leaned back in. This time, you let your own eyes flutter shut, wanting to fully immerse yourself in the feeling of your first kiss.

He kept kissing you and then pulling back, like he was testing the waters, and you were growing more desperate, longing for something more, but you didn't know what.

Then, Paz crooked a finger under your chin and slowly parted your lips again with the soft press of his thumb. When he sealed his mouth over yours he let his tongue dart inside. He didn't pull away this time, instead tilting his head more and slotting his mouth more fully against yours. At the first flutter of your tongue against his, tentatively reaching out to meet him partway, he groaned deep in his chest.

Abruptly, the arm he had banded around your waist hauled you forward, so close that there was no space left between your bodies. His waist was cradled in the vee of your thighs, and the pressure between your legs caused a soft noise to escape your throat.

Paz slid his other hand that wasn't tangled in the fabric of your shirt around to cup the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair. He used his new grip to tilt your head further to the side, further opening you up to him. The feeling of someone else's tongue in your mouth was definitely different, but you could taste the sweetness of the vanilla milkshake Paz'd had after school, and another underlying taste that had to be purely him. It was far more intoxicating than you were expecting.

Truly, the sounds were far more obscene than you thought they'd be, and you were feeling a strange tingling in your gut. Unconsciously, you ground your hips in a little circle, trying to relieve some of the tension. The action made Paz jerk his head back and stop kissing you for a moment to let out a moan, the sound sending bolts of pure heat through your veins. You repeated the motion, desperately wanting to hear that noise from his lips again.

The growl that Paz let out when you brushed over the rapidly hardening bulge in his sweats was purely animalistic and unlike any noise you'd ever heard him make before. He surged forward to kiss you again, even as his hands fell to your hips to pull you down more firmly into his lap. Your own hands gripped tight to the front of his sweatshirt, eagerly opening your mouth this time, not waiting for him to try and coax you to open up again.

Your head was spinning, the lack of oxygen and the heady feeling of Paz's taste on your tongue sending you further into a state of bliss. You couldn't concentrate on anything except for the press of his body against yours, his hands hot and heavy on your hips, his lips sliding wetly against your own.

The loud slam of the front door from downstairs made both you and Paz startle slightly, and Paz's lips separated from yours with an obscenely wet pop! that you knew you'd be replaying in your head for days to come. Your eyes fluttered open to see him studying your face with an inscrutable look. But when your eyes connected with his, his expression softened, and he cupped your face with one large hand, his thumb brushing softly over your cheek.

You were still out of breath, your head still clouded by the fog that had overtaken you, but you also felt a pure joy bubbling in your stomach. Your lack of a first kiss had been weighing on you far more than you wanted to let on, but you should've known Paz wasn't going to let you wallow in self-pity if he could help it.

Unable to help yourself, you leaned forward to press a small, chaste kiss against Paz's lips, a barely there brush of skin, him barely having the chance to exhale before you were backing away and sliding off of his lap.

"Thank you, Paz," you said, a genuine smile on your face as you turned to clamber back up onto his bed where your neglected homework lay.

With your back to him, you missed the pained look of longing that flashed across his features before he schooled them back into that cocksure, attitude filled look, a smirk on his lips.

"No problem, rabbit. No problem at all."

Here's the link to the post that inspired this ask!!