#Buy Exhaust Online
Explore tagged Tumblr posts
Text
New game interest unlocked
(crow in bottom right belongs to @patchwork-crow-writes)
#ramarl#phantasy star online#long tag warning lol i rambled#so i was introduced to phantasy star online#i think its safe to say i really enjoy the game#thank you mr crow for showing me this game :D i have new creatures to scribble now#there shall be more of these doodles#i promise you that#meant to post this wayyyyy earlier today but uh#my car broke down :') ....again :')#last week it wouldn't turn on and the headlights weren't working so we were like ''ok this is a battery issue and i need a new one''#because jumping the car didnt fix it#so we took my old battery to a shop and they tested its charge before showing us which new one we should get#but the battery had charge???????? so we went back home to troubleshoot#and then found the hooks(?idk what they're called) that connected the battery to the car had something corroded on them#so we grabbed a can of coke and scrubbed away#hooked the battery back up and bam car was working#so the issue was those hooks#until two days ago when my car didnt work again#looked at the battery again and the hooks came loose; tightened them up and bam car working again#and now at this point I'm scared to go anywhere cause what if i get stranded on my own??#so this morning i said ''alright I'm gonna drive myself to church just to be sure that my car works''#AND WOULD YOU GUESS WHAT HAPPENED#at this point i just wish the damn battery was dead and that i could replace it and move on from this#i know they're a bit pricey but jesus this is exhausting#but i can't just buy a new battery if im not sure that's the actual problem because then I'd have a battery and nothing to do with it#i hate having a car sometimes i just want a bus system#or a jeep#but preferably a bus system#sorry rambles thats a long way of saying i didnt post this earlier because ive been working on my car lol
25 notes
·
View notes
Text
tomorrow is my first day back to work and I'm a lil nervous
I haven't been able to get anything written for here bc I've been trying to get a couple other things written (updating my Bill Cipher redemption fic and starting a Gyutaro x reader x Daki because I make poor life choices)
but I'm on light duty for a month, basically just sitting at the register checking people out, unable to do any stocking or anything bc I'm not allowed to lift anything over 15 pounds so I can't lift totes, bend much, or reach much, so I'm allowed to bring something to do in between customers... maybe I'll get some writing done? I feel as if I'll be slacking off bc that's how my brain works
but you know what, I kill myself for that store normally, I don't work full time simply because I can't afford medical insurance if I did, but even working only part time I give my all while I'm there, I'm not someone who slacks off. so if I'm healthfully and approvedly permitted to slack off and take it easy for a month, I guess I'll take it (... plus, I mean, I'll still be working, just light duty, it's not like I'll show up and get paid to do ABSOLUTELY NOTHING, I'm still gonna be ringing out customers)
ANYWAY MY POINT IS-
get those last requests in! after I get home from work tomorrow, I'll be closing the askbox and won't open it back up till this batch is finished and I swear I mean that this time 😂
#mod post#should I have ordered Jessii Vee merch knowing I am not getting paid for two weeks bc I didn't work for two weeks ? maybe not#BUT DAMMIT THIS IS WHY I HAVE SAVINGS#'weirdness all the way ' button and YANA 'be kind' button and squishy pink gummi bear COME TO ME#... been uh. been doing a lot of impulse online shopping while I've been sitting at home bc idk it scratches a certain itch in my brain#and my mama has been nice enough to be buying most of my food when I usually buy my own just bc it's hard for me to walk around much rn#but I'm feeling a lot better physically I just get tired easily so hopefully I'm gonna be back to buying my own food soon#like I appreciate everything my mom and lil bro have been doing for me but MAN I don't like being UNABLE to do shit myself you know?#I took a shower this morning and it exhausted me and Mom had to be in there to help me the whole time in case I lost my balance or smth#it's better than it was the first week but I still hate feeling like I've temporarily lost some of my independence#I can't wait to shower by myself again and for it not to drain me#which is such a small thing to want and miss but like#OKAY TAG RANT OVER THIS RECOVERY IS JUST DRAGGING#I'm getting old tbh that's what it is I'm 30 and don't bounce back like I used to 😂😂😂😂
8 notes
·
View notes
Text
watching full grown adults online vehemently defend their right to [checks notes] Keep giving money to businesses who are being boycotted for supporting a genocide while slathering their statements in social justice buzzwords is so fucking. Wow you guys are fucking spineless. "yall cant even boycott chick fil a" is an evergreen statement isnt it
#vic.txt#people are losing their jobs for speaking up. having targets painted on their backs. but guysss not spending money is sooo hardd wahhhh#get a grip#and again u can tell they feel guilty abt it coz they feel the need 2 justify it online instead of just shutting up n spending their money#“allyship exhaustion” ppl worldwide have been shutting down arms factories n refusing 2 load weapons on2 ships headed 4 israel#but guysss not buying mcdonalds is so hard :((((((((( waahhhh#slugs and worms have more backbone than this
34 notes
·
View notes
Text
*snorts the concept of non consumerist self care like cocaine*
#i dont need to online shop every time i want to take care of myself#but brother i love it#i wish i could just sit in the sun and feel i took enough care of myself#but alas i wanna buy face masks and clothes#and at times and so fed up with work this is my number 1 fav exhaust valve#i love consuming#i hate that i want to consume
19 notes
·
View notes
Text
I want to be rich enough to afford my own business, then live off that so I don't have to work for anyone else and can make my job meet my own needs/comfort that other jobs cannot. getting and keeping a job as an neurodivergent and/or disabled person in a neurotypical and ableist society is so frustrating and overwhelming. they refuse to meet your needs, accommodate you, blame you for your struggles, and are hardly ever accepting, because you're a "burden" to them and don't meet their ridiculous expectations so you get rejected or fired! the only choice is to do it yourself!!!!! but even starting/running businesses seems to be greatly gatekept by them too 😭
one problem is that it seems only people who are already rich can start their own physical business, in this world today. only people who don't really need to work because they're born into money can make money off their own work. then they call it hard work and pulling their boot straps or whatever 🙄 so they just hire others to do all the work for them and take most the profits. then tah-dah, they have a successful business and only had to tell some people what to do and let them all do the rest for them. I can't afford anything that goes into my own business, especially the physical shop and hired help. my living situation makes it difficult to work from home because I live in a walk-in closet sized room with the entirety of my belongings squished into the small space. i'm trying my best to make things to cell (currently stickers, art prints, 3d anime/video game figures, etc) but it's so difficult and stressful.
or alternatively, get lucky, or have social skills and spoons, to get popular enough online so you can start online first or even full time. you usually have to be super social and interesting online to gain a following who supports you and becomes your fan. not everyone is lucky to have an enticing personality (I barely have one at all 😔) and the spoons to consistently keep up with the demand to keep people interested and continuously supportive. most people online treat it all as a competition and won't help others. they refuse to share your stuff or give advice or work together. they just care about themselves and their business.
the only real advice I got is "be consistent," which i'm sure any chronically ill, disabled, or ND person knows that's basically impossible. some days are good, some weeks are horrible and you can't do anything. that's why i'd work better with a team of others so we can fill each others gaps and stay seemingly consistent, if that makes sense. if there's multiple of us, at least one of us should have the spoons to keep things going! right???? but most online businesses are single-person run and they don't want to share and split anything, even if it's just a small collab for fun (I experienced first hand how gross fellow creaters can be to each other because they treat it as a competition instead of a collab and opportunity to enjoy working together and boost each other up. I will never forgive the bts fanart community for how snobby, childish, and bullying many of the "bigger" were behind closed doors! and smaller ones that licked their boots! ive also heard similar stories about other communities and places, like twitch, youtube, etc.)
then there's the whole business managing thing and promoting and all that. i'm a nobody on the internet, so even if I did online business only to start, no one will notice me or help! (I've actually tried before multiple times in the last almost decade and sold nothing but still struggled to keep up 😅) i barely have the executive functioning spoons to take a shower more than once a week 😭 running a business all alone with all the factors pitted against me? how! i can't hire help if no one pays me lmao
when i've asked for help before, even just asking friends to share my stuff, I get slapped with the whole "stop caring what people think about your work/numbers aren't important/do it because you want to and enjoy it/etc" and that's so insulting because it makes me feel like they're trying to say my work is horrible and worthless and I don't deserve to live off my hard work!!!!! (I'm no longer friends with these people)
what it comes down to is, I always feel like my only choice to actually work and possibly afford to survive is to start my own business????? I can't live off my parents forever and part time minimum wage jobs that I could *maybe* get (even if I was rejected from 200 of them in 2 months...) including the one I fo now are so painful, boring, unfulfilling, and/or stressful and not worth it! but no one will hire me for anything better because no experience and you need experience to get experience. or you need a degree and need money to get a degree but need degree to make money. and it's a whole paradox that is impossible for someone like me to get through. I get rejected at every interview for being autistic. i'm burnt out trying. I feel like i'm at a dead end and don't know what i'm supposed to do?
do any other autistic/ND/disabled people feel the same way?
I usually get told to "wait and it will happen one day" but this is life we are talking about!!! life doesnt wait!!!!! i'm not a teen/20s with ~my whole life ahead of me~ i'm getting older fast and have zero openings or paths that I can take alone. I know my disabled limits and it means I can't just make things happen like other people. I can't live independently or get a normal job, etc. I cant wait around forever and hope I get lucky. i've never experienced any luck so I don't believe it will help me. so I put in what work i'm capable off all the time instead of waiting, but see no useful results. I do my best despite what people on the outside see and tell me (I'm so fucking tired of hearing i'm Not Trying, Giving Up Too Easily, Being Too Negative, Refusing To Leave My Confort Zone, Not Believing In Myself and etc. it's NOT true. I don't care if that's how it looks. being disabled is NOT those things!!!! just because normal daily things takes more spoons and energy and effort for me than you, I need more help, and I dont have the ability to physically or mentally do certain things, (which means doing things beyond that is nearly impossible in most cases,) doesn't mean Those Things. no one understands how hard I try, how much I struggle, and how frustrating it is for it to all crash down, never work, and not matter. only very few people in similar situations understand and don't try to push me. I NEED SUPPORT not someone to remind me of how much I fail because I can't meet NT and abled expectations and do things THEIR way!
anyway, I fell into huge rant....is it possible for us to come together and make a ND/disabled-led business and only hire others like us? that would be cool and helpful. if I could start my own business, I want it to be mostly friendly/inclusive/accommodating to ND/disabled people. NTs/ableds have to follow our "rules" for once. a safe business/work space made for us, by us. it would be hard, but so beneficial to those involved 😭
#lee rambles#autistic#actually autistic#autism#adhd#neurodivergent#disabled#i want to move to canada with my closest friends who ACTUALLY WANT ME after visiting this month#theyre trying ti help figure it out but it's so hard when canada wants immigrant workers who can work skilled jobs and have degrees#and a ton of experience already. i am unskilled level 5 (lowest level) worker that does useless shit they dont seem to want 😭#my dream job there is to open a physical (and online) shop in a tourist mountain town and get tourists to buy all my shit lmao#they open pockets easily so it seems like the best place to open shop and its where my freiends live. in a tourist town.#but how to open and run business and afford it???? 😭#my biggest dream goal besides living with close comfortable found family is open a autistic/adhd friendly shop#where autistic/adhd and even ither ND and marginalized peoples can come and relax and be in a safe space#also ND friendly work!!! it will be owned and operated mostly by the found family but hire some other NDs/disabled people too!#and try our best to meet their needs and accommodate them and make it a great and fun place to work! its a family instead of a job!#why cant it be that simple tho 😭#writing this was exhausting and took a cpuple hours so not proofreading and hope it makes sense and not too many typos
6 notes
·
View notes
Text
G) as someone who works at a shipping warehouse I want yall shopping LESS online!!! Not more!!!
every time I hear someone say “we should just get rid of physical shops and have everything online” I get a bit angry because
a) physical shops are important for those who don’t have access to a computer/ internet/ ect
b) those “weird” and “niche” shops I love so much don’t have the same vibe online, they turn into just another website
c) I hate paying for shipping
#work has been so goddamn exhausting and its bc this is the time of year ppl buy a million things#like whatever go ahead and shop online thats fine#but dear god it sucks sooooo much to be loading a fucking PATIO into a truck bc someone wanted an online deal--#or was too assed to drive their fuckin SUV to lowes to pick it up themselves#i used to think shipping was too expensive but holy fuck if I got paid a penny less than what I make I'd combust
88K notes
·
View notes
Text
Would You Like to Know About Continental Tyres?
Many things need to be understood before buying Car Tyres Andover. Keeping all these things in mind, we have explained in this blog how Continental tyres will perform so that you have no confusion to get the right idea. Well, I would like to tell you that this is not an ordinary brand, it has won the trust of the public quite well even though its price is also quite high. So let's know what are the special features of the tyres of this brand.
#Winter Check Andover#Summer Check Andover#Continental Tyres Andover#Car Tyres Andover#Tyres Andover#Wheel Balancing Andover#Wheel Alignment Andover#Exhaust Repair Andover#Suspension Repair Andover#car servicing Andover#Buy Tyres Andover#Tyres Online Andover#4x4 Tyres Andover#Full Car Service Andover
0 notes
Text
I am sick and about to get my period so the sadness is quite literally eating me alive..
#I tried to find a little sth I could buy online to make myself feel better but even that seemed too exhausting#its bad
0 notes
Text
Being an autistic adult be like:
"I am going to buy clothes! Yay!"
-5 health
-5 health
-5 health
-5 health
*comes back after 6 hours with 1 item
#I went to the city centre to get clothes today and it took me 6 hours to buy 2 things#I came really prepared with a maximal problem minimising set up (easy to remove comfortable clothes#And shoes and noise cancelling headphones with my fav music#But still the amount of sensory input from the lights and the textures and the noise and the human beings and trying on things#Left me exhausted but proud that I managed to get 2 things lololol#Now I'm gonna shop online :3 it gave me confidence to do that#tumblr#idk#Fashion#Autism#Actually autistic
0 notes
Text
I don’t really want to wade into discourse too much today because I know everyone is extremely miserable online rn but I think if you want to give people genuine advice on what to do politically, “join a union/get involved in your current union/organise your workplace” or “join ACORN/a tenant union/etc” is much more actionable advice than like “build community.”
the problem with “community” is that it doesn’t have the same formal infrastructure / resources / political connections / organising capacity that allows your hard work to have reach far beyond your immediate circle (which is what a union has), and also because like, “community” is an extremely vague and abstract concept that can mean anything from a local restaurant run by your neighbour to a church to your dnd friend group. Reaching out and helping your neighbours is a good thing, lots of people are having a really tough time and helping people around you pay rent or take care of their family or etc is a good thing and you should feel good doing that, but in response to the complete institutional and political failure of electoral liberalism I think the next best option is to turn towards already existing national infrastructure that can mobilise people without requiring you to individually maintain dedicated personal relationships with everyone around you. In my experience + the experience of many long-time activists that I know, relying on interpersonal connections to organise and get things done leads to highly sectarian, disorganised, toxic, and unpleasant organising conditions. The cold impersonal bureaucracy of union membership is legitimately a good solution to this problem.
there are many little positions of power available in these organisation that become open to you for as low a cost as showing up to zoom meetings. I have personally been elected to positions in various unions/orgs literally because I was someone who showed up to meetings! Nobody goes to committee meetings! You get annual budgets! You get to pass votes, organise events, spend money on organising materials! You get to buy food for people! Organising is so much easier in these spaces.
And of course, you are going to face the same ideological resistance, apathy, ignorance, incompetence, and bigotry that you would at your local queer meet-up or community neighbourhood council, and I have no illusions about the institutional limits of unions (which can also be reactionary, bigoted, highly disorganised, incompetent, toxic, and so on), but if you want to avoid completely exhausting yourself and resenting everyone around you, you don’t need to build “community” from the ground up, there are already structures out there where you can do good work. For all the resistance there is to unions and union activity, you will face that same level of resistance with local organising but have none of the power, resources, or institutional legitimacy already secured by unions
6K notes
·
View notes
Text
Buy Exhaust Fans Online
Are you looking to Buy Exhaust Fans Online? If yes, Look no further. Breezalitfans is the most recognized name to manufacture a wide range of all types of exhaust fans for varied Industrial purposes at the best possible rates.
0 notes
Text
#GPR Exhaust#GPR Exhaust Systems#GPR Motorcycle Exhausts#GPR Exhaust Online Store#Buy GPR Exhaust in USA
0 notes
Text
0 notes
Text
The Reader In The House Across The Street From The Woman In The Window
Wanda Maximoff x Reader
Word Count: 3.9k .
You buy your new house without thinking it through.
It is perfect for a first time buyer, the realtor assures you. Good schools, friendly neighbours, quiet streets.
The problem is not the house. The problem is you. You live on your own. Suburbia is immediately lonelier than you expected.
Your neighbours smile politely at you as you move in. They do not welcome you any further into their community. You know it’s intentional. You feel their assessing gaze; they can tell that you don’t fit.
You work from home. You wanted to escape a boxy apartment, you wanted to have a spare room to write in. Suddenly, all that extra space feels unimportant.
The housewives of your neighbourhood gather throughout the day like flocks of birds. Small clusters huddle by fence posts. They each wear different clothes, different hairstyles. Somehow, they all look the same.
You spend the first few days trying to ignore them as you go about your usual routine. Sometimes, you glance out and see that they are nodding towards your house. You are the subject of gossip, conjecture.
Already, you begin to scroll through house listings online. You wonder how you could have made such a naive mistake.
Now that you’ve seen your neighbours, you are sure that this is not your neighbourhood.
.
You have not seen all your neighbours.
A week has passed. You are up very late, sitting in the spare bedroom turned makeshift office. The silent, empty street is reassuring as you try to finish an article for tomorrow’s deadline.
She catches your eye. You stop typing.
Her long, dark hair is haphazardly tied back. Her face is wan like the moonlight. She is dragging a heavy garbage bin out to the curb. She looks exhausted.
Her pyjamas only highlight the irony of her obvious tiredness. For a brief moment you wonder if she is sleep walking.
She walks back to her house. She pauses on her porch step. She runs her fingers through her hair, letting it fall loose and long. Then, she reties it just as messily as before. She is startlingly beautiful.
Before she reenters her house, the woman turns and looks up at your window. Your heart arrests when you see her small smile . You feel unsettled, as if she could sense you thinking about her.
She is ethereal, bathed in the dim light from her own porch.
She goes back inside, closing the door softly behind her.
You take her cue and go to bed yourself. You can’t stop thinking about her smile.
.
The next day has a different energy to it. You try not to stare out of the window. You try not to think about the woman. You speculate briefly that you might have invented some nighttime apparition. Then, you remember her eyes, how they took your breath away. You couldn’t have imagined her.
She does not join the flock of housewives during the day. You notice now that the group always face pointedly away from her house. Sometimes, they throw a scathing look behind them. You feel increasingly sure that she is not their friend. You like her more for it.
The weekend arrives and her quiet house seems more awake. You hear kids playing in her backyard.
You meet friends for a Saturday brunch. You drive back to the neighbourhood where you used to live. The drive feels too long. You feel out of the loop already, sitting quietly as your friends refer to a spontaneous get together that did not include you. You certainly don’t make up for your past absence today. You barely speak, picking at your food. Your friends keep up the conversation without you.
You wonder at how being surrounded by people can make you feel so lonely.
You have been looking for excuses to leave your house ever since you moved in. Now suddenly, you wish you were back home.
You try not to think about her when you drive back to your house. You try not to hope that you will see her again.
Your timing is, for once, perfect.
.
She is sitting on her front porch step, hands cupped casually around a large mug. Her eyes track two boys on bikes, racing each other enthusiastically down the street. Her hair is in a loose braid today.
She smiles at you as you drive past her house, turning into your driveway at a snail's pace. When you step out of the car, she nods her head familiarly, eyes locking momentarily with yours.
You can’t help yourself.
You walk over. Your heart races and you feel like a shy child again; palms clammy with nerves.
Her smile is a little forced when she anticipates your approach. She smooths it away after a moment, her expression turning neutral and polite.
You realise that she is bracing for a tiresome social situation. You realise that she does not want to talk to you. You feel desperately self conscious, unable to stop your feet moving forward.
You give an awkward wave when you are standing at the edge of her front yard. She lifts a hand from her mug and copies the action. Her fingers are unthinkingly precise. They catch your focus and you wonder at her delicacy, if she was a dancer in another life.
You press your hand to your chest, not knowing what else to do.
‘Y/N’ You introduce yourself.
‘Wanda.’ She echoes, mirroring your gesture again.
Closer to her now, you can see that weariness is etched in the light lines around her eyes.
You pause unsurely. You don’t know what to say.
You know instinctively that she doesn’t want small talk. You don’t want it either.
You think her smile in the moonlight said more than any small talk could. Maybe that’s why you feel like you already know her.
Wanda’s gaze flickers briefly to her children and then it moves back to you. She doesn’t try to break the silence.
After a moment, her head tilts slightly and you feel like she's daring you to speak. You understand suddenly why the other housewives do not like her.
You can’t help but smile. It is nice to not be the only outsider.
‘Can I sit?’ You ask simply, nodding at the porch step.
A flurry of emotions swirl behind Wanda’s eyes. Surprise is the only one you recognise.
In response, she moves wordlessly along the wooden step, leaving space for you.
You sit down next to her. Heat crawls up your neck at your boldness and at her sudden proximity.
You can hear her quiet breathing. Wanda ignores you and you try to copy her actions. She sips her drink and stares out at the street. You lean your head against the railing and pretend to do the same. You watch her shoulders relax as you settle into the moment together.
The near-silent introduction is unorthodox, to say the least. You can tell how much she likes it.
After ten minutes, Wanda clears her throat.
‘That’s Tommy.’ She tells you, pointing at the faster boy on a bike. ‘And that’s Billy.’ She continues, moving to the boy in hot pursuit.
Billy catches his Mom’s pointing. His face lights up, and he waves back eagerly. You watch Wanda’s face soften, her fingers curling back around her mug.
She takes a sip from her drink a moment later. Her mouth twists into a grimace.
‘It’s cold.’ She says as she stands up.
She pauses at her front door.
‘How do you like your coffee?’ She asks simply.
.
When Wanda comes back out of the house, she is carrying two mugs.
She has made your coffee just right.
.
You leave when the boys come inside for their lunch. Chattering excitedly, they pause only to say hello to you. Wanda brightens immediately at their presence.
Her eyes are filled with a warm kind of love. It is intense to see the sudden change in her countenance.
She shoots you an apologetic smile as you turn to leave. She touches your arm briefly in a silent goodbye.
Her fingertips are still hot from the mug. They leave a phantom imprint on your skin. Her touch follows you back to your own house.
.
You next see her the following night.
Only two houses have their lights on after midnight. Yours and Wanda’s.
You open your blinds when you sit down to write. You tell yourself that looking out onto the empty street helps you work. You think you might be lying to yourself. Wanda’s living room emits a soft golden glow.
It is 2 am when her curtain twitches. Any focus you had on your work evaporates immediately.
Wanda is sitting on her sofa, her TV is playing a sitcom rerun in the background. Her eyes are closed as she presses her temple against the cold window pane.
For a moment, you think that she is crying. Her pain seeps across the street and into your house. You turn away, trying to refocus on your work.
Your heart pounds in your chest, filled with an icy fear. A wish to never feel like her. A wish to pretend that her sadness isn’t true.
You know that you can’t pretend. Neither can she.
A minute later, you close your laptop and turn back to the window.
Wanda is staring unseeingly out at her front lawn. Your chest feels heavy with her despondency.
You think of the way she smiled at her children; she is someone else now.
She plays with the frayed edge of the curtain.
.
You startle when her eyes flicker upwards, catching you suddenly in her stare. You can tell that she is just as thrown by your presence.
Her eyes dart nervously, never quite landing on you. She leans back from the window, ready to shut the curtains again.
Unthinkingly, you lift your hand, acknowledging her with another awkward wave.
Wanda’s eyes soften. Her fingers hesitate at the edge of the curtain. After a moment, they lift lightly from the fabric and grant you a small wave in return.
You stand up and hold two fingers in a silent request for her patience.
You hurry downstairs to your own living room. You turn on your television, switching to the same channel as Wanda. The same sitcom rerun crackles to life on the large screen.
You lift your blinds and look back across the street.
A smile stretches slowly across Wanda’s face as she realises what you have done. She adjusts herself to face you, propping her chin on her hand.
Her eyes track your television through the window. Your eyes track her instead. You let your chin rest against the back of your sofa.
You think that she seems to be speaking to herself. Your head tilts automatically as you try to read her lips. After a moment, you realise that she is mouthing the lines along with the actors.
Your sudden grin is too bright for the darkness. Wanda’s eyes flicker to you and she ducks her head in self conscious acknowledgment.
Exhaustion hits you not long after. Reluctantly, you turn away from the window, settling down on your own sofa.
You should feel uncomfortable, knowing that she is looking in. Instead, it feels reassuring. You have never felt less alone.
Slowly, you succumb to the heaviness of your eyelids and the certainty that Wanda’s company is something you only want more of.
.
You dream about the sadness that is embedded in her eyes, even when she smiles.
.
The morning sun wakes you only a few hours later. You cringe at the painful brightness as you move instinctively to close the blinds.
Wanda’s sons are sitting with her in the front room now, both bleary eyed and in their pyjamas. They are eating bowls of cereal, captivated by the morning cartoons playing on the TV.
Your eyes sting painfully with lack of sleep. You wonder how Wanda is functioning at all.
You nap away the rest of the morning.
You wake properly at 11, filled with a new resolve.
You don’t give yourself the time to chicken out.
Before you know it, you are walking across the street. You climb Wanda’s porch steps and knock on her door.
Wanda’s guarded expression slips away when she realises it’s you. Her shoulders slump with a barely repressed exhaustion. She sighs quietly and gives you a tired smile.
You realise that you want to take another step forward. You want to hug her.
Wanda rests her head against her door as she waits for you to speak. The soft gesture brings another rush of affection from you. You try to ignore the shaky feeling in your chest.
‘Hi.’ You begin, clearing your throat.
Wanda gives you her familiar wave. You feel uncomfortably warm as your gaze accidentally lingers on her fingers.
‘Do you want to get coffee?’ You ask in a strangled voice.
Again, you get the impression that you have surprised her. Wanda straightens and she regards you thoughtfully.
‘You want to go out?’ She checks and you nod in response.
Indecision flickers across Wanda’s face. She looks behind her at the mountain of laundry, piled at the foot of the stairs.
‘I need to change.’ Wanda tells you determinedly, a moment later. You glance down at her plaid pyjama pants and try not to blush. You nod again, moving to wait in the entryway as she flits up the stairs.
Wanda returns quickly. She seems harried, nervous in a way that you haven’t seen before. She smooths her clothes unnecessarily. Her hair is tied back and it makes her look younger. So does her oversized green plaid shirt.
She is unassumingly beautiful. It arrests your heart like the first time you saw her.
She catches your lingering stare whilst she descends the stairs.
When she is standing close to you, Wanda looks self consciously down at her outfit.
‘I haven’t gone out much since my husband died.’ She confesses, pushing up the large sleeves of her shirt.
Her words reverberate inside you. Her eyes meet yours and all the air leaves the room.
You don’t know what to say. You don’t know what to do. You grab her hand and squeeze it suddenly.
‘You look good.’ You tell her, hoping it is enough.
.
You walk outside together, instinctively in step as you walk over to your car.
The drive to the coffee shop happens in silence. Wanda’s fingers tap against her leg.
The barista takes your order and you find a seat together by the window. A window seat is meaningless, there is nothing to look at. The coffee shop faces onto its own parking lot.
Wanda watches the outside world anyway, sipping her coffee. You are patient, letting the ambient music fill your mind for a moment. You need the coffee almost as much as Wanda does. Every time she brings the mug to her lips, her eyes close in a momentary expression of bliss.
You think that she is perfect.
Pale, weary and grieving. Your heart tugs with a feeling it cannot help.
‘You really liked that TV show last night.’ You comment randomly when Wanda finally puts her mug down.
‘I love American sitcoms.’ She tells you simply, with a nostalgic smile.
‘You’re not from here?’ You ask, curious at the phrasing of her answer. Your mouth widens in embarrassment when you realise your clumsy question.
Wanda laughs once. The sound sends a shiver down your spine.
‘No.’ She tells you. ‘I’m from Sokovia.’
She watches you expectantly, waiting for you to do the math in your head. To calculate that she was a child during the war there. She is right, you count back the years automatically.
‘That must have been hard.’ You say carefully.
Wanda’s eyes flash with sadness. In that moment, you are certain that her grief has never settled.
‘I have lost my whole family.’ She tells you in a tight voice. You don’t have time to speak before she shakes her head.
‘I have my boys.’ She corrects herself immediately.
‘You do.’ You agree softly. You remember Billy’s eager wave at his mother. You realise that he has likely lost his father. Your heart twists with sympathy for something that you can’t fathom.
‘What are they like?’ You ask instead.
Wanda takes a breath and then you watch a miracle happen.
Her words flow suddenly and easily. Her stories make you sure that she is as much their best friend as their mother.
Her fingers dance in front of her as she gestures unthinkingly, painting vivid stories from their childhood.
Her voice is like water and you feel it rushing over your skin.
For the next twenty minutes, you watch Wanda’s heart open in front of you. You are captivated.
When the barista comes to take your empty mugs, Wanda remembers herself. She smiles at you self consciously. Her face relaxes as she reads your expression.
She reaches across the table, she covers your hand with her own.
‘Thank you.’ She says. ‘This was nice.’
You know she is telling the truth.
Your shoulders brush as you walk back to your car.
Wanda tilts her head back against the car seat as you pull out of the parking space. The easy silence between you brings a rich comfort.
You next look over when you stop at a traffic light. Wanda’s eyes are closed. Her breathing is even.
You take the longer route back, letting her sleep.
Your mind is reeling. Your heart is not your own.
.
Your car creeps into your driveway. You know that you have to wake her. You feel guilty at the thought. Wanda has turned away from you in her sleep.
‘Wanda.’ You try gently as you reach out and touch her hand.
The flash of red light is instantaneous. Despite your seat belt, you are thrown against the car door. Your body makes a harsh thud against it. Wanda’s eyes are turned toward you now. They are glowing red.
A scream builds in your throat. Red energy is emitting from her, like some kind of radiation.
You scramble panickedly to unclick your seatbelt and escape the car.
It is the slamming of your car door that brings Wanda back to herself.
She blinks her eyes back to green as she looks around in confusion. You can tell that she does not recognise her surroundings.
She notices you at last, backing away from her in fear. You freeze, waiting to see what she will do. A voice in your head tells you to run.
You feel sure that there would be no point.
Wanda looks down at her hands as if they are stained. A tear slides slowly down her cheek. All at once, she seems human again.
You are still scared when she opens the car door.
‘I fell asleep.’ She says and her voice cracks.
You don’t remember how to speak.
‘I’m sorry.’ Wanda whispers and another tear falls down her cheek. She hurries back across the street, arms wrapped tightly around her chest.
.
You flee to the safety of your house as soon as her back is turned. You are sure that she can hear your shoes crunching on the gravel.
Your hands won’t stop shaking. You pace your hallway, unable to decide what to do.
Eventually, you slow down and start to cry. You sink to the floor and stare at the ugly wallpaper that you have wanted to take down since you moved here.
Wanda is a monster.
Goosebumps flare across your skin as the words ring inside your head.
You pressed the heels of your hands against your eyes as you cry harder.
There is an emptiness beneath your ribs like you have lost something. Fear begins to fill the cavity left in your chest.
You sit with the discomfort that somehow you still want to be near her. You feel trapped by her sweet smiles, by her tears and her tired eyes.
Reality hangs in an uncomfortable balance.
She is a monster and you have started to love her.
.
That evening, you don’t make any pretence at writing articles or meeting deadlines. You sit in your office, unwilling to shut the blinds and unable to look outside. Uncomfortable thoughts of Wanda still echo in your head as you try not to flinch when a car door slams outside. You hate your empty house. You watch the shadows lengthen against the undecorated walls and see them as symptom of what you are. If loneliness is a disease, you are undoubtedly contagious.
The small truth flickers, that this is what makes you dangerous to Wanda too. There is no cure for being left behind.
When the dark night is defended only by the streetlights, you find yourself walking to the living room. You leave your blinds open as you fall back onto your sofa.
The TV light flickers in a way that hurts your tired eyes. You do your best to ignore the needle prick sensation. You sit rigid with the temptation to turn around. Your heart thunders with an almost paralysing fear.
From behind, you sense the sudden weight of a stare that you are too scared to face. You switch the TV channel to American sitcom reruns.
You are dancing on a thin line.
In the early morning, you finally let yourself turn around. There is no one at Wanda’s window, but you can see the fading condensation marks of someone's breath against the glass.
.
You wake with a bright sun burning against your eyelids. There is a moment of disorientation when you see the digital clock display at the bottom of the TV screen. It is already afternoon. Time has begun to lose meaning.
You don’t let yourself watch out of the window as you pull yourself together for the rest of the day. You try to ground yourself in a semblance of reality. You convince your wandering mind to return to the task of your next looming deadline. You send half-hearted texts to your once important social circle.
You pretend to ignore the tremor that shoots through you when you hear a front door open and close across the street. Your fingers go still against the keyboard of your computer.
After a moment you take a deep breath and your ribs lift with an influx of something that's no longer fear.
You force yourself to look out of the window.
Wanda is sitting on her front porch step. Her hair is pulled back and the bright sunshine illuminates her pale skin. You breathe out slowly.
Wanda’s cheek is pressed against the railing, her eyes are closed with a tiredness that looks more like pain. There are no children playing in the street to keep an eye on.
You wonder if the rest of the neighbourhood is watching the same scene as you. You try to imagine the words shared in the houses surrounding you.
You leave your own house a few moments later. Wanda’s eyes flicker open at the sound of your door.
When her eyes meet yours, you recognise the fear. There has been a cavity beneath her ribs for much longer than you.
You lift the full coffee mugs you’re holding, in lieu of a greeting. Your steps are measured with the care of your task.
You watch relief pull her lips into an automatic smile. You see her fingers twitch against her thigh with the instinct to wave.
You sit next to her on the porch and offer her a mug.
Your shoulders touch.
You forget to be scared.
#wanda maximoff x reader#wanda maximoff imagine#wanda maximoff#wanda maximoff x you#scarlet witch x reader
293 notes
·
View notes
Text
WRAP ME UP: Dilf! Anakin x f!reader
synopsis: caught up in the Christmas rush, you took charge of buying all the presents to give your boyfriend a well-deserved break. But as the day winds down, you realize you’ve forgotten the most important gift—his. Determined not to let him down, you scramble to come up with a surprise that’s sure to make this Christmas unforgettable.
warning: MDNI, 18+, unprotected sex, pussy eating, dirty talk, implied age difference.
words: 4.1k
a/n: Hello there, hope you’re all having the best Christmas ever! 🥰💖 I whipped up this lil oneshot as a gift just for you, filled with all my love and holiday vibes 🎁✨ Sending hugs, kisses, and festive cheer your way~ mwah! 💕🎄
So why don't we just wrap me up? A little bow and ribbon, best thing you've been given Baby, come and wrap me up I'll be under your tree, hurry up and find me
Christmas always seemed to come with a whirlwind of chaos—the kind that swept through the house like a winter storm. There were decorations to hang, meals to prep, and endless checklists to tick off. Putting the kids to bed at just the right time so you could sneak the already-wrapped presents under the tree was practically an Olympic sport. Not to mention the milk and cookies the little ones had spent the day making; someone had to nibble on those and leave a convincing crumb trail.
Whew. Just listing it all was exhausting.
This year felt even more complicated, though. Add a divorce to the equation, and you had the perfect recipe for a holiday headache. Coordinating a peaceful gathering between your boyfriend’s ex-wife’s family and your own was no small feat. For Anakin, this was the first Christmas since his split from Padmé that would take place at his
He wanted everything to be perfect. Not for himself, but for his 10-year-old twins, Leia and Luke. He had insisted on getting a live pine tree—a massive, fragrant beauty that now stood proudly in the living room. He’d spent hours stringing lights and hanging ornaments, meticulously ensuring no branch was left bare. But let’s be honest, the finer, more delicate touches weren’t exactly Anakin’s forte. That’s where you came in, adding cute little details like hand-painted pinecones and glittery snowflakes.
Despite all his efforts, there was still so much to do. Anakin even took it upon himself to clean out the attic so Padmé and her new partner would have a place to stay—a task you eventually had to step in and stop. Watching your older boyfriend juggling it all—exhausted and overwhelmed—was enough to make your heart ache.
“Babe,” you’d said, placing a hand on his arm as he tried to untangle yet another strand of lights. “Why don’t you let me take care of the gifts? You’ve got enough on your plate.”
Anakin had protested at first, brushing it off like it wasn’t a big deal. “I don’t want you running around and tiring yourself out,” he’d said, his furrowed brow softening slightly at your concern.
But you’d been ready for that. “We already made a list,” you’d assured him with a grin. “Half the stuff is online—I can knock it out without even leaving the couch.”
That had earned a laugh, the kind that made his shoulders relax and his blue eyes light up, even just for a moment. “Sometimes I forget that,” he’d teased, shaking his head.
“You forget a lot of things, old man,” you’d shot back, your tone playful as you nudged him gently.
And so, the task had fallen to you. You’d tackled it with determination, checking off each name on the list like Santa himself. Leia’s little scientist kit, the one she hadn’t stopped talking about after a trip to the mall. Luke’s robotics kit, perfect for building his dream spaceship. For Padmé, you’d chosen an elegant set of rose-scented moisturizers, oils, and bath salts—practical but thoughtful. Even her date wasn’t forgotten; you’d picked out a bottle of wine that struck the perfect balance between classy and casual.
Each gift was wrapped meticulously in festive paper—greens, reds, stripes, and prints of reindeer prancing through snowy fields. Big, shiny bows crowned them all, turning the pile beneath the tree into a picture-perfect scene.
But as you stood back, surveying the neatly wrapped packages, a realization hit you like a snowball to the face. You’d forgotten the most important gift of all. The one for him.
Your heart sank, and the cheerful glow of the tree suddenly felt a little dimmer. How could you have missed it? After everything Anakin had done to make this Christmas special, after the hours he’d poured into creating a magical holiday for everyone, you’d forgotten him.
You spent most of dinner lost in thought, your mind racing to come up with a way to fix your mistake. Buying something online was out of the question—it wouldn’t arrive in time. The stores had surely closed by now, and even if they were miraculously open, you doubted you’d find anything meaningful enough to give him. You could still picture the chaos that had unfolded in stores that morning, people scrambling to grab last-minute gifts. No, it had to be something special, something that mattered.
“Hey, you outdid yourself, baby.”
Anakin’s voice pulled you from your thoughts as his arms wrapped around you from behind. His touch was warm, steady, and so familiar that it sent a wave of comfort through you despite your swirling anxiety.
You sighed, startled by his sudden presence. You hadn’t even heard him approach. “I could barely get Leia to sleep,” he murmured, his breath warm against your neck. “She wouldn’t stop talking about the scientist kit Santa brought her. And Luke?” He chuckled softly, the sound deep and content. “He’s passed out upstairs, hugging his present like it’s a long-lost friend.”
His satisfaction was evident, a proud smile curling his lips as he nuzzled into your neck. The light tickle of his growing stubble sent a shiver down your spine.
“That’s… that’s great,” you murmured, trying to match his warmth, but the weight of your forgotten gift tugged at you like an anchor.
“Baby?” Anakin’s voice softened, his concern breaking through the comfortable silence. He turned you in his arms, his large hands settling on your waist as he studied your face. His blue eyes, stormy yet full of affection, locked onto yours. “What’s going on? You’ve been quiet all evening.”
You hesitated for a moment, the words catching in your throat. Finally, you whispered, “I didn’t get you a present.” You bit your lower lip, the admission laced with guilt and shyness. “I—I forgot.”
Anakin’s reaction wasn’t what you expected. His smile widened, his features softening as he tilted his head. The corners of his eyes crinkled in that way that always made your heart flutter. “Baby,” he said, his voice low and full of warmth, “you’re my present.”
His words caught you off guard, the simplicity of them sending a rush of warmth through you. You stared at him for a moment, your chest tightening with love—and then, suddenly, inspiration struck.
“Oh,” you breathed, a smile spreading across your face as an idea took root. “Just give me a minute. I’ll be right back—I need to take care of something.”
Anakin raised an eyebrow, bemused but curious as he watched your sudden burst of energy. “What are you up to now?”
“You’ll see,” you said with a mischievous grin, your excitement bubbling over as you slipped out of his grasp and hurried toward the stairs. You moved quickly, your steps light yet deliberate as you tried not to wake the children. Whatever guilt you’d been feeling was now replaced by an eagerness to give Anakin a gift he’d never forget.
A few minutes later, with a few fewer clothes, you were ready. Calling out to him softly, you hoped he would like your surprise gift. The door opened, and Anakin's mouth dropped open in awe as he took in the sight before him. You were draped in red lace lingerie that caressed your curves like a lover's touch, hugging you in all the right places. A crimson bow adorned your curls, and satin ribbons were artfully wrapped around your body - a bow around your slender neck, another cinched around your tiny waist, and delicate strands encircling your hips and thighs. You looked like a tantalizing holiday treat, a gift just for him.
Anakin stood there, speechless, his blue eyes drinking you in like a man dying of thirst. A wolfish grin slowly spread across his face as he closed the door behind him with a gentle kick of his foot. "Merry Christmas, baby," he purred, his voice low and husky with desire. "And what a very naughty, very sexy gift you are."
You smiled coyly, tilting your head up to meet his heated gauze. "Merry Christmas," you murmured, your breath hitting as he closed the distance between you. His lips captured yours in a feverish kiss, the taste of rum-spiked eggnog mingling with the intoxicating flavor that was uniquely him. It made your head spin and your knees go weak.
"Fuck, I love you so much," Anakin groaned against your skin as he trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down the column of your throat. His teeth grazed your pulse point, making you shiver and arch into him. You could feel the evidence of his arousal pressing insistently against your belly, and it made you ache with want.
His hands roamed your body, mapping out every curve, every dip, every secret place that made you gasp and moan. He palmed your breast through the delicate lace, rolling the hardened nip. Anakin's hands continued their sensual exploration, his fingers dancing across your skin like a symphony of sensation. He cupped your face gently, tilting your head back to claim your lips in another kiss. His tongue delved into your mouth, stroking against yours in a tantalizing rhythm that left you breathless and wanting more.
"You're mine," he growled possessively as he broke the kiss, his blue eyes burning into yours with an intensity that made your heart race. "All mine, my beautiful Christmas present."
His hands moved lower, skimming over your ribs, your hips, the soft globes of your ass. He gripped your rear, pulling you flush against him, letting you feel how hard he was, how much he wanted you.
"I'm going to unwrap you slowly," he whispered, his breath hot against your ear. "I'm going to savor every inch of you, like the rare and precious gift you are."
His fingers found the bow at your neck, and with a gentle tug, the ribbon slipped free, fluttering to the floor. He kissed your collarbone, your shoulder, the swell of your breast as he worked his way down, untying each ribbon, baring more and more of your skin to his hungry gauze.
You trembled under his touch, your body singing with desire, wanting to be touched, claimed, loved by him. Each brush of his lips, each nip of his teeth, each caress of his hands sent sparks of pleasure racing through you, building the heat simmering in your core to a fever pitch.
"Please, Anakin," you whimpered, your nails digging into his shoulders. "I need you. I need to feel you inside me."
He groaned at his pleading words, his control hanging by a thread. "Patience, baby," he murmured, even as his hands made quick work of your lingerie, tugging it down your legs and leaving you bare, save for the ribbon cinched around your waist and the bow adorning your golden curls. "I thought you were my gift, not the other way around," he teased, a mischievous glint in his eyes.
Anakin guided you to sit on the edge of the bed, his large, warm hands on your hips steadying you. He knelt before you, his eyes dark with desire as he drank in the sight of your naked body. Slowly, reverently, he leaned forward and took your breast in his mouth, his tongue swirling around your hardened nipple.
You gasped at the sensation, your back arching to press more of yourself against his eager mouth. He sucked and nibbled, his teeth grazing the sensitive bud, sending jolts of pleasure straight to your core. He lavish attention on your breasts, his hands kneading the soft flesh, his mouth hot and wet against your skin.
Time seemed to blur as he devoted himself to worshiping your breasts, licking and sucking until your chest was flushed and damp with his saliva. Your nipples throbbed with need, craving for more of his touch, more of his attention. Soft, needy moans spilled from your lips, growing louder with each passing moment.
"Shhh, baby," Anakin whispered, his voice a low, soothing rumble. "You don't want to wake the kids, do you?" There was a note of genuine concern in his tone, even as his lips curved into a playful smile. "Can you be quiet for me?"
Nodding eagerly, you bit your lip, determined to stifle your cries of pleasure. Anakin smiled proudly, his eyes shining with adoration. "That's my good girl," he praised, pressing a tender kiss to your belly before trailing his lips lower, down, down, until he reached the ribbon tied around your waist, he undid it with his teeth, letting it gather the pile of clothes on the floor.
Anakin gently spread your legs, his hands firm but gentle on your thighs as he positioned himself between them. He looked up at you with a mischievous grin, his blue eyes dark with desire, before lowering his head and burying his face in your pussy.
His hot breath ghosted over your sensitive folds, sending a shivering through your body. Then, with a low groan of appreciation, he dragged his tongue along your slit, savoring you as if you were a banquet, his first meal in decades.
"Fuck, you taste so good," he murmured against your skin, the vibrations of his voice sending sparks of pleasure racing through you. "I could eat you all day, baby."
He lapped at you hungrily, his tongue delving deep into your wetness, seeking out every hidden crevice. He circled your clit with the tip of his tongue, teasing the sensitive bundle of nerves until you were squirming beneath him, your hips bucking against his questing mouth.
Anakin moaned in approval, the sound muffled against your flesh. He seemed to be enjoying this as much as you were, his enthusiasm evident in every lick, every suck, every nibble of his lips. He alternated between long, slow licks and quick, darting flicks of his tongue, keeping you on the edge of ecstasy.
His hands gripped your thighs, holding you open for his oral assault, his fingers digging into the soft flesh. He pulled back slightly, his eyes locking with yours as he held your gaze while he licked you, the intensity of his stare sending your arousal soaring.
"You like that, baby?" he asked, his voice rough with lust. "You like how I eat this pretty pussy?"
You could only whimper in response, your eyes fluttering shut as the pleasure built inside you, coiling tighter and tighter. Anakin grew in approval, his tongue redoubling his efforts, fucking you with it as he sucked hard on your clit.
"That's it," he encouraged, his voice a low, soothing rum.
"Fuck, baby, I'm, I'm gonna cum" You mumbled, the words getting mixed up and tangled in your mouth, the pleasure he was bringing you making everything else blurry and confused.
Anakin's eyes darkened with hunger as he looked up at you, your words spurring him on. He doubled his efforts, his tongue delving deep into your entrance, fucking you with long, languid strokes. He alternated between plunging his tongue inside you and circling your clit, keeping you teetering on the edge of ecstasy.
"That's it, baby," he murmured against your skin, his voice muffled but still filled with encouragement. "Cum for me. Let me taste you, feel you coming undone on my tongue."
He sealed his lips around your clit, sucking hard as he thrust two fingers inside you, curling them just right to hit that spot that made you see stars. Your legs began to shake, your thighs trembling against his head as the pleasure built to a crescendo.
"Fuck, Anakin," you cried out, your voice breaking on a sob of pure bliss. "I'm gonna- I'm cumming!"
Anakin groaned in approval, the sound vibrating against your sensitive flesh, pushing you over the edge. Your orgasm crashed over you like a wave, your pussy clenching around his fingers as he continued to lap at you, prolonging your pleasure.
You thrashed beneath him, your hands fisting in his hair, holding him in place as you rode out the intense waves of ecstasy. Anakin stayed with you every step of the way, his tongue working wonders, coaxing out every last drop of your release.
As the aftershocks subsided, he gentled his touch, his tongue still stroking over your sensitive flesh, soothing you down from your high. He placed a tender kiss on your mound before lifting his head, his face glistening with your juices, his eyes blazing with satisfaction.
"Fuck, you're delicious," he growled, his voice rough with arousal. "I could never get enough of you."
He crawled up your body, his hard length pressing insistently against your thigh as he captured your lips in a heated kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, the flavor mingling with the taste of him, creating a heady combination that made you feel like a shooting star, being burned and then reconstituted by his mouth.
Anakin gently brushed away the damp strands of hair clinging to your forehead, his touch tender and reverent. He gazed down at you, his blue eyes soft with adoration and still smoldering with desire.
"I still want to be inside you," he murmured, his voice low and husky. He pressed a trail of kisses along your neck, his lips adoring your skin. "Do you have the energy to ride me, or would you prefer me on top?"
You shivered at the feel of his warm breath against your sensitive neck, your body still tingling with the aftershocks of your intense orgasm. "I want to feel you deep inside me, but I'm not sure if I could get up off the mattress," you whispered, your voice weak but filled with need. "Please, Anakin."
With a low groan, Anakin settled himself between your thighs, the thick head of his cock nudging against your entrance. He paused for a moment, his eyes searching yours, seeking permission, making sure you were ready for him.
At your nod, he slowly pressed forward, sheathing himself inside you inch by inch. You gasped at the sensation, your walls stretching to accommodate his girth. He was so big, so hard, filling you in a way that made you feel complete.
Anakin stilled once he was fully seated inside you, his forehead resting against yours, his eyes closed in bliss. "Fuck, you feel amazing," he breathed, his voice tight with restraint. "So tight, so perfect."
He began to move, his hips rolling in a slow, deep rhythm. Each thrust sent sparks of pleasure through your body, building the heat simmering in your core once more. You wrapped your legs around his waist, urging him deeper, harder.
Anakin complied, his pace increasing, his thrusts growing more powerful. The bed creaked beneath you, the headboard slamming against the wall with each powerful drive of his hips. He angled his thrusts, hitting that spot inside you that made you see stars, that had you crying out in ecstasy.
Anakin's thrusts grew more urgent, more powerful, his hips snapping against yours with a force that had the bed frame shaking. He braced himself above you, his muscles flexing with each drive of his cock deep into your heat.
"You feel so fucking good," he groaned, his voice strained with pleasure. "So tight, so perfect. I could stay inside you forever."
You clung to him, your nails digging into the hard planes of his back as he pounded into you, chasing your pleasure. The sound of skin slapping against skin filled the room, mixed with your moans and his grunts of endeavor.
Anakin shifted slightly, changing the angle of his thrusts, hitting a spot inside you that made you see the whole galaxy. Your back arched off the bed, a silent scream of ecstasy tearing from your throat. He must have felt it too, because he smiled down at you, his eyes dark with satisfaction.
"That's it, baby," he croaked, his voice a low, sultry rumble. "Cum for me. I want to feel you coming apart on my cock."
He reached between your bodies, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles over the sensitive nub. The added stimulation was too much, pushing you over the edge.
Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave, your walls clenching around Anakin's thrusting cock, milking him for all he was worth. He groaned, his rhythm faltering as your pleasure triggered his own.
With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself inside you, his cock pulsing as he spilled his seed deep within your heat. He collapsed on top of you, his weight pressing you into the mattress, his breath hot against your neck.
"Fuck, that was incredible," he muttered, his voice muffled against your skin. "You're amazing, do you know that?"
You could only nod, too consumed by the afterglow to form coherent words. Anakin rolled to the side, pulling you with him, tucking you against his chest. His hand stroked lazily over your back, his touch soothing and comforting.
Anakin kissed your forehead softly, the lingering warmth of his lips like a silent promise. His strong, calloused hand rubbed gentle circles on your back, grounding you both in the quiet intimacy of the moment. The glow of the lights your boyfriend insisted on placing in every window in the house spread lightly throughout the room, casting a warm, golden hue over the space.
“You,” he murmured, his deep voice still tinged with the rawness of emotion, “are the best Christmas present I could have ever asked for.”
A lazy smile spread across his lips, his eyes heavy-lidded but filled with unmistakable love. He looked utterly content, his body still recovering from the tidal wave of pleasure that had swept over him. He leaned back slightly, letting his head rest against the pillows as he gazed at you.
You felt the strength of his arms encircling you, his larger frame cradling your smaller body like you were something fragile, precious. Your cheek pressed against his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat lulling you into a sense of peace you hadn’t realized you needed.
“You’re everything,” Anakin continued softly, his hand coming up to gently brush a strand of hair from your face. “Do you know that? You came into my life and turned everything upside down in the best way possible.”
You tilted your head to look up at him, your own smile forming as his words sank in. “I think you’re giving me too much credit,” you teased lightly, your voice muffled by his chest.
He chuckled, the sound low and rich, vibrating through you. “Not even close,” he said, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “You’ve given me something I didn’t think I’d ever have again. Love. Real love. Not just for me but for my kids, for this life we’re building together. You don’t know how much that means to me.”
Your heart swelled at his words, and you reached up to trace the sharp lines of his jaw, his soft stubble prickling under your fingertips. “I love you, Ani,” you whispered, the words full of warmth and certainty.
His lips curved into a wider smile, and his stormy blue eyes glistened with emotion. “I love you more,” he replied, his voice steady but soft.
For a while, neither of you moved, content to simply exist in the moment. The sounds of the house were muffled—the distant creak of floorboards, the hum of the heater, the faint tinkling of Christmas music still playing downstairs. It was as if the world outside your little bubble had melted away, leaving only the two of you wrapped in the comfort of each other.
Finally, Anakin shifted slightly, his hand trailing soothing patterns along your back. “You know,” he began, his tone lighter now, “we should probably get some sleep. Santa left a lot of toys under the tree that will need assembling in the morning.”
You laughed softly, the sound muffled by his chest. “You mean I’ll be assembling them while you ‘supervise,’ right?”
He smirked, brushing a kiss over the top of your head. “I think we make a pretty good team. Besides, I’m sure Luke will take over as lead engineer within five minutes.”
“Leia will be too busy experimenting on whatever she can find,” you added with a laugh.
Anakin’s smile widened, his eyes crinkling at the corners as he imagined the chaos that awaited them tomorrow. “And I wouldn’t have it any other way,” he said, his voice filled with warmth and pride.
You shifted slightly to look up at him again, your own smile soft and filled with affection. “Merry Christmas, Ani,” you whispered, your fingers lacing with his.
He tilted his head to press a lingering kiss to your lips, the gesture tender but full of meaning. “Merry Christmas, baby,” he murmured against your lips.
As the two of you settled back into the quiet comfort of each other, the warmth of the holiday filled the room, a gentle reminder of everything you’d built together. Anakin’s life, once marked by loss and brokenness, now felt whole again—with you at the very center.
#anakin skywalker x you#anakin skywalker x reader#anakin x reader#hayden christensen x reader#dilf anakin x reader#alternative wolrd#dilf anakin#star wars#hayden christensen#christmas#anakin smut#merry christmas#merry xmas
227 notes
·
View notes
Text
gif made by @dojaejung ! all credits to @dojaejung !
roses (m.) | jeong jaehyun
“it’s killing me to know there’s someone else out there buying you / roses, roses” OR where jung jaehyun is pathetic enough to be yearning after his beautiful ex-girlfriend, whom he reconnects with after awkwardly crashing her date with a new potential lover.
jeong jaehyun x ex-girlfriend! reader
warnings: some allusions to stalking and online harassment, some make-outage, oral (fem. receiving), some exhibitionism ig?????, some cussing, jaehyun is EXTREMELY down bad (he who yearns is he who earns amirite yall), svt as side characters for my caratzen agenda, also i’m still an awkward writer (in my opinion) so that warrants its own warning
This is why Jaehyun despises leaving his apartment.
For the first time in weeks, Doyoung and Taeyong, in their combined nerdy best friends power, have managed to make him go outside again. Although it’s the middle of the winter, each day inching closer to Christmas day, the bustling city is filled with people enjoying themselves despite the sub-zero temperatures. It makes him sick, really. Not people in general, for sure, but the sight of couples swarming about, their happy faces making sure every single person’s envious gaze is following them until they disappear around the corner.
Winter is sickening. Winter makes people too cozy, too cuddly, too loving. When spring comes, that love melts away, fleeting as it was. It dims out like the warm fire you stoke in the evening as you gather with your loved ones, in the morning long gone and forgotten with the loss of the guests. Jaehyun hates it. His friends knows he hates it.
So did you.
As Doyoung and Taeyong keep him in their middle, holding on to his arm on each sides as if they were old aunts bickering away, he reminisces about your shared hatred of the cold. You had hated snow, most of all, he remembers as he watches the thick, cold flakes swirl around in the air. It leaves a mist on the people passing by him, painting them in the lovely shades of the cold. Rosy cheeks, white smiling teeth, blue fingertips. If he closes his eyes, he can almost imagine it’s you clinging to him again, complaining loudly about the weather, scared of falling to the ground. You had always been incredibly clumsy, and unashamedly loud. Every passerby could not help but smile at your antics, but none smiled wider than the man you had wrapped around your littlest finger; Jaehyun, who had always stared at you instead of ahead. Jaehyun, who in the end always made you guys fall because he wasn’t concentrating on walking, he was concentrating on you.
You, the single star in his solar system he was orbitting around. He had felt himself collapsing, folding around you, as if he could ingrain himself in your existence in the very same manner you had immortalized yourself in his soul. How pathetic you had left him.
“Hey, earth to Jae! You’re not seriously upset we made you leave the house, right?” Taeyong’s hand forces itself into Jaehyun’s periphery as he waves it infront of Jaehyun’s face, trying to gain the man’s attention. Every finger was perfectly manicured, the tell-tale rings that signified Taeyong snapping Jaehyun out of his daydreams. Mentioned friend looks worried, but not regretful. “We were beginning to think you had fallen asleep in there, like some bear. You shouldn’t hibernate.”
“But bears got it so right. It’s so much better to sleep the winter away.” Jaehyun sounds exhausted, almost childish. He knew he was a grown man, not a teenager mooning over his first love. But it certainly felt like he had become the former. That was your effect.
“Dude.” Doyoung grasps his shoulder then, boring his gaze into Jaehyun’s face. He had been dreading that, actually; it’s hard to act like a complaining child when Doyoung makes you face yourself just like that. Almost unconsciously, Jaehyun straightens up. It’s almost like facing your mother, and he’s trying to avoid Doyoung’s fussing. “It’s been almost a year. I hate to be the one to be saying this, but you have to let it go at some point, man.”
You have to let it go at some point. Doyoung’s right, of course, but Jaehyun hasn’t yet reached that point of being reasonable. It’s not like the five stages of grief. Jaehyun is in the awkward process of trying to understand what has actually happened to him; why your relationship came to an end, why you were so kind to him despite it all, how you had finally cut him off. No one really knows why you did it, least of all Jaehyun. As you had broke it off with him after dropping him off at the airport before he flew to the first stop of his current world tour, there wasn’t exactly time to ask questions.
You had given him a letter and apologized (seriously, so not cool to explain in a letter just so you didn’t need to face him), and just as soon as the flight touched down at his destination and his phone had regained connection to his cellular data, you had changed your number, deleted your socials and disappeared from his life.
(Not like he immediately found you again when you re-debuted on social media. Johnny, as a true best friend, has forced him to limit looking at your instagram account to once a week, but how will Johnny know if he does it more? No one needs to know. Jaehyun would lose face if even anyone knew how much he misses you.)
Jaehyun lowers his eyes then, unable to keep looking at Doyoung. “Let go. Yeah.”
Doyoung and Taeyong exchange a worried gaze at that, before nudging him to a new direction. Their footsteps leave soft white traces, disappearing as quickly as they are made as fresh snow falls. “I got just the thing to cheer you up,” Taeyong quips then, and when he smiles at Jaehyun in an attempt to comfort him, Jaehyun finds the strength to smile back. Those are his friends, after all. If he weren’t so detached from his emotions, he’d find himself moved by their sincerity; his silly friends that loved and cared for him despite his habits and his weird coping methods. They didn’t judge when he sent them new song lyrics he had written in the middle of the night because the memory of you is still haunting him, scaring him off sleep because the comfort he gains from dreaming of you is as addicting as chasing liquor. They had let him ruminate in his apartment for as long as possible. It was time to face the world properly now. “Hot cocoa and waffles?”
Jaehyun snorted. “Like children?”
“Like children,” Taeyoung announces, his voice too earnest for the statement. Doyoung laughs, and then it’s difficult to not join in. Taeyong grins, happy to have drawn that reaction out of them. For the moment, Jaehyun feels normal again, and he offers to buy the waffles as Doyoung and Taeyong line up to buy the hot cocoa.
That’s the same moment where Jaehyun immediately regrets having left the house.
The sight of you physically knocks the breath of his lungs. For just a second, just seeing your face erases the feeling of all the pain that had been wrenching at his heartstrings, your beauty so all-encompassing it stuns him into silence. The cold season has kissed your face in the most pretty way - as you throw your head back in laughter, your (incredibly tempting) lips curve into his favorite smile of yours, the smile that has to be stolen out of you, so surprised by something that you laugh involuntarily. Honest. And earnest.
And beautiful.
It’s almost beautiful enough to make him not acknowledge the other man that you are gifting it to.
Jaehyun forces himself not to look, the effort incredible. He does not want to see who you have replaced him with, he really doesn’t, truly not, but then the dizzy envy makes him look so that he can bombard the man with death threats in his mind. Not that it matters. He could have been anyone, anyone at all. What did it matter if that was someone he knew or someone unknown, when the most damning thing about the situation was that it wasn’t him?
When he looks back at you to keep analyzing whether you like this man a lot, Jaehyun has come to the startled realization that you have noticed him, aswell. Your face has dropped, the shock painted over your face like an ill-fitting mask. “Jaehyun?” you say, the sweet voice carried over to him in the wind, and his knees almost buckle. (Jesus Christ, he’s a grown man.) Your partner notices, looking up to see whom you’re addressing, and Jaehyun’s nonchalant reaction to the irrelevance of the man’s identity disappears instantaneously.
Fuck you, he thinks hard at the dude, as if the sheer mental strength of his thoughts could reach him, for actually looking gorgeous. Fucking hell.
“Jeong Jaehyun?” You call again, robbing him off the opportunity to maybe pretend he hadn’t heard you. He forces himself to move forward.
“You know each other?” the guy asks then, and Jaehyun thinks to himself, No, idiot, I am the stalker that’s been breaking into her apartment and leaving her letters. But then he remembers how Johnny has admonished him for doing the social media equivalent and how often he visits your socials just for a glance at you, and the thought almost immediately sobers him up. “Jeong Jaehyun,” he introduces himself then, reaching out his hand to shake the other man’s, even though he’d rather bite it off. “We were…”
“Acquaintances,” you interrupt him almost immediately. The smile you sport now is nervous, to the untrained eye flawless. But Jaehyun knows every inch of your soul, and the look in your eyes pleads him not to acknowledge it. “Jaehyun used to be really close to my brother. You’ve met my brother, right?”
“Oh, Seokmin, right?” The stranger’s eye glint in recognition. “That means you must be cool, man. Anyone who’s in Seokmin’s good cards is good in mine. My name’s Junseo.”
“Nice to meet you, Junseo,” he makes himself speak, although the words taste like coal in his mouth, turning ashy as he pronounces them. He’s never been a good liar, always careful about choosing his words, but then, he’s never been in the situation where had to meet the lover that was going to replace him in your heart. He turns to you, your lovely face ripping into him. You stare back as if you are aware of the effort it takes him to remain friendly. You don’t look like you enjoy inflicting this havoc upon him, but ever since that day, he doesn’t truly know what you are capable of. “It was nice to see you,” he tells you, turning away as soon as the words leave his lips.
He never hears your “Jae”, the sound ripped out of you like an old instinct.
jaehyun
could you maybe at least warn me that your sister is back in town
dk 😁
yo
i didnt even know she was
can you let her know to bring milk to mom’s house we ran out this morning
jaehyun
. . .
no dk i cannot i almost collapsed when i saw her
can you say hello to your mom tho
Jaehyun drops the phone on the couch, the interaction having soured his mood just as much as the meeting with you. Seokmin was cool, and a really good friend, although a bit clueless. He had been firm in his support for Jaehyun, not picking sides, but not abandoning their friendship either, and had been one of the friends who had dragged him out for dinner once a week ever since the break-up to make sure Jaehyun was actually eating. Jaehyun doesn’t even think this happened to your dismay. You were way too nice, and even your fucking break-up letter had been kind, even though it hadn’t been enough to wipe the blank look in his eyes as he had read it.
“Okay, so that may have went worse than we thought,” Taeyong proclaims, the hot cocoa still steaming in his hand. Even though they had technically paid for the cup as a loan, taking it back home felt like stealing. Jaehyun couldn’t find it in himself to care. He was staring at the ceiling, looking at no one. “But hey, at least we found out who the mystery guy on her instagram was!”
Johnny, who had let himself into the apartment while they were gone, perked up at that. Very aware of your instagram due to Jaehyun’s influence, he knew that there had been an odd silhouette in your instagram story the past few weeks, almost a soft-launch and almost not. There had been theories whether the mystery guy had been a new lover. Jaehyun had almost thrown up when Mark had suggested the idea. “You did? She was with a man?”
“Yeah, Junseo what’s-his-name. Didn’t give a last name, though.” Doyoung sounds concentrated, probably too focussed on not breaking Jaehyun’s new coffee machine. “Jaehyun, coffee?”
“No,” Jaehyun deadpans. “I want death.”
The entire room groans at that. “Fresh out of death, dude,” Johnny tells him, bowing over the couch to throw a blanket over where Jaehyun was laying and Mark had fallen asleep. Johnny was his best friend in the entire world, and very used to Jaehyun’s antics. Throughout it all(the acclimatization to the celebrity life, the growing into a fully formed and actualized person in the public eye, the stabbing ache of heartbreak), Johnny had become a brother to him. It was Johnny’s hand pulling him along through life, his ears that were entrusted with every joy and worry in Jaehyun’s mind, his kindness that kept Jaehyun standing sometimes. “It’s coffee or nothing,” he continues after ensuring both men on the couch were covered with the blanket. And then, as he turns back to Doyoung: “Make him some coffee. He hasn’t touched his cocoa.”
The quiet bickering of his friends fade away then, forcing him to come to terms with what has happened. Seeing your face again felt like being struck down by God, to put it in blasphemous terms. You had always been the most beautiful person to him, including both his preference that came from loving you and his attraction to people in general. Jaehyun hadn’t been the kind of man to have an exact type before meeting you, but now he looks for you in every smile, every fluttering lash, in every face he meets. Looking for the traces of where your ancestors had painted their magic, the overarching connection between several generations, the hand reaching across time. Whoever crafted you had taken his time to ensure every single detail, and the love that had flowed into the shaping of you glinted across every feature. Having been starved of seeing you, this interaction had thrown him into cold water face first. Even the memory stung.
You hadn’t looked bothered to see him. If anything, you had been as sweet as always, even though you hadn’t expected to see him. He had thought being gone from your side had hurt, but seeing that Junseo was making him sick to the stomach. It was his job to make you laugh like that. It was his duty to ensure your happiness. To think of that fool doing it in his stead made him spark up with a fury that he had long forgotten, the feeling so unfamiliar it made him reach inside those spaces inside himself that he had abandoned for so long. During the separation every emotion had come to him so dull and muted - happiness, sadness, surprise, anger. But as if they had never left him, Jaehyun recognized that he was jealous.
Awfully jealous.
So that was the next step of Jaehyun’s alternative five stages of grief process. Instead of coming to terms with the ephemeral nature of his relationship with you, he’s pining over the one woman he cannot have. He raises his hands to cover his face, his fingers shaking - it’s crazy, how you unravel him. It’s been eight months and Jaehyun is still willing to go on his knees to beg just to make sure you stop seeing anyone else.
(At that point, he was very unaware of how near in the future that was going to happen.)
“Hey, dude.” Jaehyun is snapped out of his thoughts by the raspy voice of one Mark Lee. He lowers his hands to see Mark peaking his head out of the blanket, hair completely ruined from tossing and turning in his sleep, looking just like the lion that his friends affectionately nickname him as. Their friends are still bickering in the kitchen, arguing about how to handle the coffee machine properly, with Doyoung’s voice cutting through the others. “You alright over there?”
Jaehyun clears his voice. He suddenly feels glad that Mark doesn’t know yet that he’s seen you, as he doesn’t want to burden Mark with his worries. He’s only a little younger, but he’s the closest thing to a younger sibling Jaehyun has, and he treasures him to the point where he often wants to shield him from the shit that Jaehyun has going on. “Yeah, all good. Why did you wake up? Not sleepy anymore?”
“Your phone has been going off like crazy.” Mark points at the aforementioned phone before yawning. As Jaehyun reaches for the device, he sits up and looks into the kitchen from the vantage point he has of the kitchen. The screen lights up after a few quick taps, and Mark asks: “Something important? Sounds like someone’s spamming you.”
dk 😁
not to be the bearer of bad news but mom wants to have you over for dinner on saturday
😭 maybe i shouldnt have delivered your greetings bro
i think my sister has a date on that evening tho so maybe nothing will happen?????
i mean you can say no but you know damn well my mom loves you (because you kiss up to her) so
yeah
i get if you dont want to
Jaehyun blinks. Several times. Then, he drops his face into his hands again, sighing so loudly that even Mark seems astonished.
It seems like you’re not gonna leave his mind anytime soon.
The first time Jaehyun had met you, you had still been a junior in college.
He’s always known you existed, of course - the pretty-faced little sister that was off-limits to anyone, who had the most embarrassing haircut when she was still in middle school, who liked to receive flowers for her birthday instead of gifts. Seokmin doesn’t talk about you often, but when he does, there’s a gentle smile etched on his face that seems like the most jarring contrast to the way he bickers and fights with you in person. Jaehyun couldn’t conjure an image of you, but when he thought of your name, it filled Jaehyun’s mind with a sweet dream. He had been missing you in his heart before he had even met you, the soft tug of a red string around his littlest finger.
The request had been hastily asked and innocent in nature. Pick up my sister, please? An unusual request, as Seokmin never introduced his sister to anyone for your own privacy, but it didn’t bother Jaehyun to do it, especially since DK was a very good friend. You had been incredibly drunk, and uncomfortable at a party, and called for the person you trust most in the world. DK on the other hand, drunk out of his own mind at an entirely different party in his own dorm shared with his bandmates, had called a friend he knew he could entrust with the safety of his littlest sister.
Completely hammered and wobbling on your entirely too high heels, you had gladly clung to Jaehyun’s arm after realizing he had been the savior your brother had sent you. Your introduction came out loud and clear, and you had enunciated every syllable to make sure he heard it. When he correctly repeated the name back to you to ensure he remembered it, a dazzling smile had split across your lips in the cutest way possible. It had made his heart jump in a deliciously agonizing way.
“Can you walk?” he had asked you then, pointing down at your monstrous heels. He had truth be told been incredibly impressed with the way you had managed to leave the front porch of the party house, even though every step enunciated that you were incredibly intoxicated. You had waved off his worry and beamed at him with the innocent happiness only a drunk person could exude, completely free from all wordly burdens. “Don’t worry!” you told him, your voice as melodious as it was pleasing. “I’ve walked in worse heels! And I’m not even that drunk!”
Jaehyun had no intention of questioning you, but the exclamation did make him laugh. He had been awkward about the interaction the entire time he had driven here. Would you be able to even feel comfortable with him? What if you guys didn’t speak about anything? But your behavior had loosened up the tension inside his chest, and he found himself relaxing under your hold, gently guiding you back to his car. Your grip was tight, but not painful, and you had hooked your arm around his to keep close to him in a way that wasn’t entirely unwelcome to him. He had not expected to warm up to you so quickly. “So you’re able to hold your liquor? You must not actually be related to DK then. The guy can’t hold his liquor for shit.”
The joke tugged a surprised laugh out of you. It was a nice sound, the genuineness of it making a smile form around Jaehyun’s lips. So open, so friendly, so extroverted - so incredibly different from him, and yet a simple laugh from you made Jaehyun entranced with the existence of you. He wanted to relish the sound, making him wrap his fingers around the keys in his pockets to ensure they wouldn’t rattle when he pulled them out. “I’m sure he’s got that from mom,” you had explained to him while snickering, momentarily letting go from him as he opened the door for you. After clambering in and pulling the door shut, he had walked around the car to climb in himself. The door clicked shut. “I’m my father’s daughter through and through. We used to place bets at New Year’s parties with the family how much time it would take for mom to crash out after a single bottle of champagne.”
“And?” he asks. The engine of the car sprung to life with a simple press of a button, idling quietly while Jaehyun had put on his seatbelt. “Did you win the bet?”
Your expression in the rearview mirror was smug when Jaehyun checked his surroundings in it, pulling out of the parking space he had found near the house the party was in. “I was fifty bucks richer about half an hour later.”
Jaehyun couldn’t help but laugh - at your behavior, your teasing little remarks, the way you hiccuped before laughing because you were a little liar that couldn’t hold their liquor. By the time he had reached DK’s apartment building, where you had requested to be dropped off because you wanted to sleep over at your brother’s, your drunkenness had made you drowsy. Without even thinking about it, you had climbed over the console to envelop Jaehyun in a hug, shocking him to the core. Your floral perfume had been dizzying, but the near proximity of you had almost made him drunk himself. Jaehyun was an idol under the strict gaze of both his employer and his supporters. His resulting touch-starvation had made him grasp your soft waist with both hands, and he closed his eyes to soak in the warmth of your touch. It was startingly intimate. “Thank you for bringing me home,” you had murmured against his shoulder, momentarily resting your head on it, as if it belonged there - as if you had been made to be held by him. You lined up perfectly, like puzzle pieces, and for a moment, Jaehyun had felt complete in a way that made him question himself was my heart always hollow of you?
When you pulled back with your bright smile and your hazy eyes, a pink blush had dusted across Jaehyun’s cheeks that he prayed you hadn’t noticed. “You’re super duper nice,” you proclaimed then, not fully retracting from where you were leaning on his body. Not pushing his hands away, either. “And it’s way more fun to ride in your car than in Jeonghan’s. You drive like a responsible adult.”
“Are you saying Jeonghan doesn’t drive like a responsible adult?”
“I’m not sure he knows what that is.” Giggling, you untangled yourself from him, startling Jaehyun with the immediate ache for you. Get a grip, he thought to himself. Acting like a teenage virgin. “And I should know!” you enunciated. “The idiot tried teaching me how to drive. If DK hadn’t put an end to that, I would have never gotten my driver’s license.”
Jaehyun, still reeling from the affection you had graced him with, smiled shyly at that. “Well, I’m glad to have brought you home safe, like the responsible adult I am. Can you make it up on your own?”
You “mhm”ed loudly, noisily maneuvring yourself out of the car. Jaehyun winced quietly when the heels of your shoes clacked against the pavement harshly, almost sure one had broken. But you had straightened up with a grin, waving stupidly, shouting loud “thank-you”s and “get home safe!”s as he watched you walk into the apartment complex, running into your drunk brother and almost-brothers (as his bandmates liked to title themselves as, loving you like you were one of their own).
He had sat and waited for a long time for his erratic heart to slow down again. You were a miracle he hadn’t been waiting for, like a sudden blessing after a fervent prayer. He went to sleep thinking of your name, finally being able to connect it with a face, the yearning following him into his dreams.
It was that same yearning that woke him up in the middle of the night now, reaching for the empty bedside, remembering where you were.
Remembering that you weren’t reaching for him anymore, no matter how much you had loved him.
Jaehyun cleans up nicely, when he wants to. When he checks his reflection in the camera app one last time before ringing the door, he almost doesn’t recognize himself. Johnny’s girlfriend had helped him put on a little bit of make-up to cover the black shadows under his eyes and wished him luck, although he wasn’t sure what he needed the luck for. To see you? Not to see you? The question had been eating away at him on the way here, making his hands sweat to the point that the driver’s wheel had looked kind of disgusting afterwards. He can’t shake the cold fear that accompanies the thought of you these days. The desire to be in your presence was a knife turning in his guts, so sharp that even the pain seemed more welcome than another day without you. As he closes his eyes, he imagines you opening the door, welcoming him home, kissing all the exhaustion away. But when the door opens up after knocking at it, the sweet face of your mother receives him.
Not that the sight isn’t welcome. Jaehyun sees his mother often enough to not have to miss her, but the need for a motherly presence never truly leaves you, no matter how old you are. There is a part of him that will always be a child, reaching for his parents’ hands, knowing he will be safe there. Your mother fills that space often when his own cannot. “Jaehyunnie! I’m glad you made it, sweetling,” your mother gushes, hurrying to clasp his hands. The sight of her red, marred hands makes his heart hurt - has she been overworking herself? - but the pain is soon replaced with a gentle warmth spreading inside his chest at her motherly clucking. “Hurry inside, we made your favorite! You still like spicy pork, right?”
“Yes, ma’am.” He removes his shoes before stepping inside, feeling nostalgic. The first time he had met your parents, the house had been newly bought and hardly acquired, with your parents having haggled for an appropriate price for months. Over the years, the building had been renovated, filled with furniture, and changed as more and more memories had been made in this place. To see it now standing proudly and lived in made him happy, but also sad, as he wasn’t fully part of that experience anymore.
“Don’t be silly, boy! You know you call me mom here!”
“Yes, mom.”
“Mom,” rings out the complaining voice of Seokmin then. He’s standing at the foot of the stairs. His voice had been petulant, but there’s a very big grin on his face as Jaehyun approaches him in greeting, and they hug each other without hesitation. DK had seen him go through enough shit to not have to shy back from physical affection. “Don’t nag with Jaehyun before he’s properly inside. How’s it going, J? I heard your new album, it was awesome!”
Your mother nods enthusiastically. “You are hard-working as always, Jaehyunnie! The songs sound beautiful!”
Jaehyun laughs, bashful. He feels awkward and happy at once, to be complimented upon for his talents while simultaneously knowing that most of those songs had been written with you in mind. “Thank you for saying that,” he answers.
“It’s only right,” your mother tuts then. As she turns to walk back in the kitchen, she opens her mouth to say something again, but there’s another knock at the door, startling them all. The three exchange glances, both Seokmin and your mother seeming surprised by the noise. “Are you expecting someone, Seokminnie?” When DK shakes his head no in answer, she walks back to the door, humming to herself in confusion. “Maybe your father? But he’s not supposed to get off work until 8.”
Before your mother even opens the door, the dread of who could possibly be standing in front of that door tells Jaehyun what to expect. And as he turns over that assumption in that mind, the door opens to reveal you, clad in a red dress that hugs your curves and exposes your mid-thigh. “Oh, sweetie!” your mother exclaims. “But what are you doing here? Aren’t you going to dinner with that Junseo-ssi?”
You don’t answer, your eyes locked onto him. He recognizes the sight of slight panic and confusion in your eyes - apparently, DK hadn’t told you that you were visiting in the hopes that you wouldn’t see each other anyways. Although barely a second passes, it feels like eternity as you take each other in.
Fuck, you’re as beautiful as the day he lost you. He doesn’t even register that your mother is still chattering away as he drinks in the sight of you, the sinful silhouette and the angel eyes that have been accentuated by a skilled hand and your favorite eyeliner pen. The blood rushes in his veins, filling his ears with the sound of waves crashing, his desire lapping higher and higher until it makes his chest hurt. “Mom,” you manage to say. “He was called into work at the last minute. It’s pretty awkward to be the only one all dolled up here, so may I go up and change please? And not have to make awkward small talk in the salon?”
“Of course, sweetling, just go up! Seokmin will help me with the last preparations for dinner.” Your mother leaves at that, and the three adults remaining are crushed by the awkward tension in the room. Even more awkward for the third wheel in the room is that neither of both you and Jaehyun have looked away from each other ever since you walked in, and DK takes the chance to quietly slip out of the room to join his mother in the kitchen, leaving Jaehyun to his doom.
(Traitor.)
Jaehyun breathes out, struggling to fill his lungs with the air he needs. “You look stunning,” he says, his voice straining to pronounce the words. It’s pathetic how much he wants to press you against that wall and devour you. Even though his inner adult yells at him that he isn’t yours anymore, the thoughts do not stop coming. Truthfully, there can’t be any scientific explanation for how fast his heart races because of you, but it keeps on beating, jumping out of his chest. Falling to your feet.
You finally step out of the doorframe, into the house itself. The door quietly falls into the lock. You reach down to unclasp your high heels, the movement mechanic. You seem as dazed as he is. He entertains the possibility whether he has the same effect on you as you do on him, but he casts the thought aside immediately. You had left him, after all. “Thank you,” you answer, your voice meek. As if you were to strangers. “Are you … doing well?”
I hope that despite the way I’m ending things, you will be well. I pray that you are healthy, that you are eating enough, that you flourish in your career as you deserve to be. You are outstanding, Jeong Jaehyun, a flaming star lighting up the sky. I pray that you find it in yourself to forgive me.
“Well?” he echoes, as if that word was a joke. And then, almost in disbelief, he asks back, “Are you?”
You lower your gaze then. “I finish my master’s degree this year, so I’m a little stressed. But aside from that, I am fine, thank you for asking.” You straighten up, intending to walk past him. But Jaehyun, as if possessed, grabs your wrist; the touch makes both of you shudder, and you look up to see the absolute yearning in his eyes staring back at you. He doesn’t really know what made him do it, and he seems as shocked as you are; he had been thinking more quickly than he had been moving, and his muscles spasmed from the lack of communication between his nerves and his brain.
It’s written across his face, it must be. The intense wish to bow his head and lean against you, cage you against the railing of the stairs. To make you reach inside his soul and connect the broken pieces there that were the remaining shards of his heart. Jaehyun doesn’t want anyone else in the world to see inside him like that. He wants you, he wants to be your boyfriend. Despite it all. The good and the bad, the beautiful and the ugly. Are you well? Jaehyun’s hand slips lower, interlocking your fingers, the physical connection there setting fire to the skin. I pray that you are. “Take care of yourself,” he tells you instead of all the words that have been left unsaid ever since you abandoned him, all the tears that he has shed. He wants to tell you how his pride for your success makes him fly higher than any of his own achievements ever would, how soft his heart feels at the fact that you are so close to reaching your goals. How much he wishes to be a part of supporting you towards that. But he doesn’t.
You don’t break free of his hold, but it seems clear that you do not reciprocate the hurricane of emotions he is feeling right now. “You shouldn’t say that,” you tell him, tone polite, but your voice sounds hesitant. He wants to kiss the hesitation out of you, eat your laughter as he tugs at your lower lip. The proximity is driving him crazy. “I mean, I don’t wanna be rude. But I am seeing Junseo. You don’t have to worry about me, Jae. Jaehyun.” You cough awkwardly, as if that can erase the affectionate nickname, as if there isn’t something inside you still calling for him. You step backwards. If hitting the railing is embarrassing to you, you don’t let it show.
He lets go of you and steps back, then silently watches you go up the stairs. Your soft shuffling as you walk back to your room. The decisive shutting of a door.
Silently dreaming of what would happen if you graced him with your attention again.
The dinner itself is uneventful. You make polite conversation, thankfully sitting diagonally away from him, wedged in between your mother and your brother, whom Jaehyun sits across. But he sees the blush never truly leaving your face, and the way you throw glances at him when you think he isn’t paying attention. It makes him delusional enough to imagine that maybe, he wasn’t the only one still thinking about their ex.
Jaehyun glances down at his cleared plate, a half smile curling at his lips. Not truly a real smile. But not truly a lie, either.
@leey/n has started following you on Instagram!
@leey/n has liked a post!
The third time your paths cross, you truly think you are about to go crazy.
This is an art gallery, for crying out loud. You don’t think you’ve ever seen Jaehyun in a museum. Not that he’s uneducated or disinterested, mind you, but Jaehyun was the kind of guy to take you to places where you could etch your own memories across the place. The arcade in Busan where you won your first ever plushie and promptly gifted it to him, for one; the trip to Jeju where you had almost fainted and scared the shit out of Jaehyun; the high-end restaurant in Gangnam where you both can never let your face be seen again after having been thrown out for laughing too loud. You had spoken about the particular art gallery here once, debating about attending an event that was held in that month, but ultimately had the decision taken out of your hands after you unexpectedly had to go the hospital due to your appendix bursting. But here he was, looking like the most ravishing man alive in that stupid suit.
It should be forbidden to look that good. Genuinely. You think your heart stops momentarily when you see him, and then again when your gaze involuntarily drops to the exposed skin of his chest, displaying the vulnerable area due to the v-cut of his suit jacket. Hell. If you didn’t know any better, you’d think he was doing this on purpose.
You gather up the train of your dress and hurry over before anyone can recognize either him or you. He looks startled, and then that weird flash of desperation flits across his eyes before he hastily makes himself appear composed. You don’t for the life of you know why exactly his reaction to you is like that, but you suppose the time for complaining was over, since, you know, you broke up with him. You knew it had been a bitch move to write a letter, but you couldn’t exactly tell him the true reason to his face. Hey, I know this sounds stupid, but I’m afraid of ruining your career because netizens keep shit talking our relationship and tainting your reputation, have a nice day though!
No, he’d never understand. This was for the best. He’d been so close to completing his album, so proud of what he had achieved, and the grief of almost taking that away from him made you want to throw up. So you had decided to sacrifice yourself, in an as cowardly manner as possible.
No one would ever know that Jeong Jaehyun made your soul sing in the most exquisite way possible, and that your heart had been filled with so much joy that it almost burst. No one needed to know.
“What are you doing here?” You hiss at him. You turn your head to ensure that no one is actually looking, before tugging him to the side. Almost unconsciously, you take his hand and guide him to a different spot, a quiet corner where only strangers were staring at the art being displayed. Even the music was muted.
“Is this not a public event?” he hisses back, confused by your behavior. But he lets you do as you please, even lowering his head to yours to make sure no one hears. His fingers gently tangle with yours, swiping across your knuckles as he always does - did. It’s like your love runs deeper than human behavior, deeply embedded in your body’s instincts. You see it in the way the caution you display reflects back in his eyes, as if your secrets are still holier to him than his own. Even though he has no idea why you’re being so ominous. It’s one of the qualities you love most about Jaehyun; he never once tries to tell you what to do, always acquiescing your needs, letting you take the lead when necessary. It makes a traitorous happiness bloom inside your chest that he is still the kind of person who would always have your back. “Why exactly wouldn’t I be here? If it’s because you didn’t want to see my face, don’t tell me that. I don’t think I could handle it.”
“Jeong Jaehyun,” you groan, exasperated as you are. You hastily scan the area, always dreading that Junseo is about to turn the corner to catch you both. It had already been a surprise that evening had been made possible, since Junseo was a workaholic. Your friends joked around that he loves his residency at Seoul General Hospital first, and you second. You did not want to squander this opportunity of growing closer to him, a whim based on the fact that he was a pretty face and you desperately needed to move on. You weren’t serious, and you could count the amount of dates you had been on on one hand, but it worked its magic enough. Jaehyun only needed to believe that you were moving on. And Junseo only needed to believe Jaehyun was unimportant. Not like it’s forbidden to speak with an “acquaintance”, even if he did see you both here - but Jeong Jaehyun wasn’t an acquaintance, he was your ex-boyfriend for crying out loud, and if it weren’t for the necessary masquerade to appear as if you were moving on, you wouldn’t even be entertaining Junseo’s presence, no matter how charming he was. It was a stupid plan, concocted by an even more stupid Jeonghan. “Who would’t want to see your face? That’s not what I mean.”
The compliment slips out before you can hold it back. It’s so easy, so habitual to make it, to admire Jeong Jaehyun’s existence. You had never even met a man like him. He was sin made flesh, with his well-formed, strong body, the gorgeous face, the sun-kissed hair that switched colors from comeback to comeback. Jaehyun looks surprised to hear it. The dimples in his cheeks signal the smile that stretches across his lips, sweet and genuine and startled. It makes you sad, that he doesn’t expect those compliments; he is the kindest, sincerest, most attentive man you know.
(And if you were still in a relationship, you would have torn the clothes off of him and jumped him for looking that good in a suit. Not want to see his face my ass - you could stare at Jeong Jaehyun all day.)
“I thought we weren’t supposed to say stuff like that,” he says back, his voice low. It sounds deliciously rough, the way it sometimes sounded when you woke him from his sleep to kiss him, the sleepy yawns turning into soft moans when you rode him, his hands mapping out the space of your skin. You shake your head, as if you can shake off the memory. Your adoration for him went bone-deep. “Whatever,” you say hastily, as if that can erase the obvious pining you are displaying. “I mean, I don’t want Junseo to see us. I know you don’t like to lie, and I’m sorry for introducing you as an acquaintance, but I’d like it to remain that way. For him to believe there was nothing between us, I mean.”
“And is there?” Jaehyun’s voice sounds steady. It kills you to see the hope in his eyes, even now, even after you’ve hurt him after flaunting a new relationship. You remember his beautiful face on that day at the Christmas market, where the agony in his eyes had almost made you weep. You never ever wanted to be responsible for Jaehyun’s grief, not even now. “Nothing between us?”
You falter then, forgetting what you want to say. You can’t tell him the truth, you cannot - the truth being that when you look into Jaehyun’s eyes, your knees go weak and your hands yearn to claw at him and your kisses want to devour him whole, bones and all. You want to crawl inside him and live there forever, like the insane lover you are. You want to kiss him until you forget your own name, until the mornings become routine where you wake up next to him, where the sight of his beautiful face becomes the first thing you see after waking up for the rest of your life. The wish is so fervent it catches you off-guard, and it weakens your resolve. “There’s nothing, Jaehyun,” you say. Even you can hear the uncertainty. The atmosphere is so tense that you didn’t even notice the room has cleared out; the area is curtained off, a special exhibition inside the actual exhibition, for a yet-to-be-discovered artist who gained the space to present their art through chance. The few people who had mingled here had quietly left, identifying the situation as a lover’s spat. Anyone could walk in. Anyone. The realization makes your heart skip a beat. “You understand that, don’t you?”
Your words make sense, yet your actions don’t. You unconsciously inch closer to him. You shouldn’t, you shouldn’t, you shouldn’t. “You’re confusing me,” Jaehyun responds, sounding frustrated, but when his hands find your waist, his touch is careful. Gentle. Like a collector in awe of the precious rare item he has found. “I thought you hated my guts. You know, that’s the kind of interpretation a break-up letter entails.”
“Jaehyun,” you whisper. You want to rip his hands off, leave him here to come to terms with the realization that this relationship is over. It had been such a difficult situation, and so painful; to rip the band-aid off in the manner that you did. You hadn’t even told Jeonghan about the reason you broke it off, so afraid of the consequences, yet more afraid of the repercussions of your relationship to Jaehyun’s career. You needed to tell him off now, before you do something you would regret. You do none of these things, however. You let Jeong Jaehyun cradle your face in the middle of the gallery as if nothing has changed and the two of you are eternal and you have never been apart. Something inside of you reaches for his soul, across the gaping abyss that forced mythological Orpheus and Eurydice apart. You let him bring your face close enough that he can press his cheek against yours, mimicking Gustav Klimt’s The Kiss hanging in the hall outside. A sweet irony. It had always been your favorite painting, and you know there was a copy of it hanging in Jaehyun’s living room, bought by you for an anniversary long past. His lips trace the lines of your cheekbones, feeding the selfish ache inside you that is always desperate for Jaehyun. “It doesn’t matter. I’m with a different man.”
The answer makes Jaehyun draw in a sharp breath, but his ministrations continue on; as if his love for you was an instinct he was chasing after unconsciously. His lips trail a burning path across your face, his fingers curling at your nape. Lulling you in. Entrancing you. “At the risk of sounding like an asshole - I don’t care,” he murmurs against your skin, the words reverberating in your blood. “I would give anything for being able to touch you like this. Even if this is the last time.”
You screw your eyes shut. Even if this is the last time. Almost mechanically, you raise your arms to draw him against you, your bodies lining up perfectly; you had always secretly enjoyed how well you guys fit together. A perfect match. When you had dropped him off at that airport, you had been robbed of truly saying goodbye to him. Coming home late, almost oversleeping and missing his flight, riding in separate cars because the staff had piled into the seats of which at least one should have been reserved for you. You couldn’t even kiss him goodbye - you had let go of Jaehyun with a heavy heart, a mind full of anxieties turning over all the threats you had received not only digitally, but now even physically, and with a mouth full of lies. This is the last time. You look up at the same time as Jaehyun decides to throw all caution against the wind, bowing his head to inch closer. “Let me kiss you, please,” he whispers, the desperation in his voice so heady it makes you feel drunk. “May I kiss you?”
You draw in a sharp, shuddering breath, and murmur your assent. As if this had been a decision and not a stabbing, sharp need below your chest. “Yes. Yes, Jaehyun.”
Your lips meet his halfway, although meet is the wrong words. It’s a crash and burn, two stars folding around one another and exploding in a supernova; there is nothing human about the way Jaehyun hungrily devours the surprised gasp you let out. His kiss is all fire and blood and teeth, the messy clacking of two people who had been made to love each other once and then cut apart by fate. Your hastily sucked in breaths keep getting interrupted every time Jaehyun kisses you again, and again, and again. It’s a sweet torture, and a productive one. By the time he has dragged you against a wall you are lightheaded and out of it, your skin prickling with the feeling of Jaehyun mapping out his way. “Oh sweetheart,” he sighs out against your collarbone, his teeth painting markings across your chest. You barely even register him falling to his knees. “I could die tomorrow and be a happy man.”
“What are you doing?” You ask him, dazed. Your hands find his shoulders (has he become even broader? You seriously need to have a talk with Johnny and the gym routine he forces Jaehyun through). Despite your confusion, your body remembers Jaehyun. You barely even think about following his guidance, complying almost immediately when he taps against your waist so that you raise your leg and angle it over his shoulder. The belated realization makes you blush heavily; your addled mind cannot keep up with your body’s compliance. “Jeong Jaehyun! Are you insane?”
You intended to sound fierce and reprimanding, but when you finally look down to meet his gaze, your knees almost buckle. Jaehyun looks like a man starved, his eyes heavy-lidded with desire, the irises blown wide to ensure every detail of you is burned into his recollection. He looks like a worshipper, and his hands move across the supple flesh of your thighs as if in prayer. Blasphemous and heavenly. And incredibly dangerous. You can still hear the loud chatter of the other guests behind the curtain, just across the room. The nervousness makes your veins thrum. “Baby,” he says, sounding genuinely disbelieving. “Do you honestly think I won’t use this chance to taste you one last time? I don’t know what made you tolerate me suddenly, but I am not going to be the idiot that ruins the opportunity. You’ll let me go down on you, won’t you, sweetheart?”
The term of endearment makes you all fuzzy-minded and giddy. “I … yes … But anyone could walk in…” you nervously start, and yet you angle your hips forward so that Jaehyun can tug down your black lace panties, barely noticing that he tucks them inside his suit pockets. “And we’re not supposed to … I mean, I shouldn’t …. Jesus, Jae!”
In the middle of your feeble attempt of climbing back to the moral highground, Jaehyun had positioned himself right at your core; your hands fumble to hold on to his shoulders before he kisses your vulva way too innocently for a man who’s currently going down on you in the middle of a public art gallery. You barely remember to lean back against the wall for support before Jaehyun dives in like you are the last meal he is ever permitted to have on this earth, and he is determined to make it last.
You bite back a cry when Jaehyun finally laps at you, the torturous kitten lick lighting your entire body aflame with want. Although Jaehyun immediately follows it up by generously sucking at the sensitive bundle of nerves, you cast aside all pretense of decorum due to your greed and dig your fingers in his hair to direct him closer, much closer, and Jaehyun moans. The sound is so delicious it makes your veins burn with desire, the physical pain of craving him running almost hotter than your need to be pleasured. Keyword almost. You wanted to come all over his mouth just for that delicious fucking noise, but your stomach was tensing up, the quick arousal accomplished by the serious lack of sex and masturbation that the past few months had been for you. Jaehyun’s hands claw at your knees, climbing to your thighs, forcing your legs wide open to welcome his fingers where he drags them across your all-too-welcoming entrance. “So wet,” he groans against your core, and you whimper at the vibration, bucking against his lips. Even though he loves to run his mouth during sex, he gets it to work anyways. Jaehyun laps up your sweetness as it drips down, his thumb flicking at your sensitive spots until he has you keening and tearing at his hair. “God, sweetheart, look at what a mess you’re making. You’re fucking gorgeous.”
“Jaehyun,” you gasp when he finally dives his tongue into you, the muscle pumping in mock-fashion of what he would love to do to you. The compliments are doing insane things to you and your heart, your poor heart that is going to cling to this moment forever. While Jaehyun’s fingers work their magic, your own begin to spasm, pulling and tearing at him. Submitting to you and your feral hunger he finally adds a finger, his right hand busy with fingering you while his left hands continues to trace circles over your clitoris. The sudden penetration has you remembering that his own digits are way longer than yours, the memory accompanying the sensation of him reaching further and further until he finds the right spot that has you bowing over him with a loud moan. This is what you missed, what you were imagining when you were daydreaming about sex, daydreaming about the godly way Jaehyun pounded you into the mattress. He knows he’s got you now, speeding up his ministrations at every noise you make. You screw your eyes shut with a bone-deep shudder, the sweet tension inside your abdomen pulling tighter and tighter in a familiar tell-tale sign. “Jaehyun, slow down, fuck!”
He’s curling his fingers, eager for your approval, hungry for more noises - through your blurry eyes, you realize he’s watching you through it all, the gaze of a predator. Not once does he look away, continuing his sweet song of praise. “So beautiful,” he coos against your pussy, pressing close so he can speak the words into your skin, your soul. In your state, it almost sounds like Jaehyun is the only thing in your world, and hasn’t it always been? The miracle in your life that you surrendered all your worship to? You lurch forward when he sucks your clit into his mouth, seeing white for a second, the stimulation becoming too much. “Keep looking at me, please. Wanna watch you when you come.”
“I…. can’t!” you manage to babble, realizing you are edging closer to your climax. You’ve never once been this quick, not with anyone but with Jaehyun; the only man in your life that knew every inch of you, the very shape of your soul. Your body is as familiar to him as the back of your hand; more familiar to him than his own self. Jaehyun is too impatient to deal with your arguments, though. “You can,” he hisses against you, dragging his fingers more fervently. Your warm walls tighten around them, hungrily trying to keep them in, to keep going. The sudden clenching around his fingers makes it difficult. “Look at me and cum or you won’t get to cum at all, I swear it.”
That’s all it takes for you to finally let go, almost weeping with the overwhelming pleasure. Your orgasm washes over you almost too violently, forced on by Jaehyun’s overstimulation as he keeps going and going and going, and by the time you push him off your sensitive pussy there are tears falling from your eyes. But you drag him close and kiss him, kiss him so hard you think he’s going to bruise, and Jaehyun lets you; it is much sweeter and patient than the beginning of the altercation, so sweet on your tongue it has you melting against Jaehyun. This is it, that adrenaline you kept chasing; true, painful, but worth it love. You feel too sensitive and too aware and too alight, but you wrap your arms around him all the same, as if you can keep him forever. Your kisses reach inside of him, desperate for connection, heavy with the longing that had accompanied you everywhere ever since you left him. You think you were born to love Jeong Jaehyun, and you kiss him as if you are Eve reaching for the forbidden apple - knowing it’s wrong, wanting it anyway. You want and you want and you want. Your hands are on his soft cheeks, dragging against his shoulders, careless, loving. You love Jeong Jaehyun, love him so much that your very existence is exploding from the inherent triumph that accompanied witnessing him.
You think you would gladly go to hell for tasting divinity on Jaehyun’s lips. You’d rather be a sinner than apart from him for being a saint.
When you finally tear away from him, Jaehyun’s lips are swollen(your heart almost fails at the sheer pleasure that sight gives you). He lets you drag your thumb across the kiss-stained lip, wiping away the lipstick, tracing his jawline. “Such a beautiful face,” you tell him, watching as he preens from the affection. Your heart to yearns to give him more, but you finally force yourself to step away before you die from the overdosis that is Jaehyun. He watches you, completely out of it. “This is the last time,” you remind him. The lie comes so easily now, even though you are trying to memorize his gorgeous face, tattooing it across your mind palace. You will never forget this, no matter what illness or loss comes for you. Not Jeong Jaehyun. “The last time, okay, Jae?”
You place your hand over his heart, and he places his own above it. For a moment, the situation feels eternal. You were in love and you were both idiots, but it was okay because you were handling it together. Because you would face all the challenges together. Because you would work towards a future together. But the spell is broken soon, and you make the first step back, biting your lip at the sadness resurfacing in his eyes. Jaehyun, you think. The only man you’ve ever entrusted your heart with like this.
“Okay,” he finally answers, helpless. He holds on to your hand, though, making the last few steps to follow you before he is forced to let you go. You turn back at the last second before you enter the main hall, just to see if he is looking away, but there he stands, watching you.
His face is forlorn, softened by his quiet sadness, and your heart breaks again. You leave him there before you can do something else you regret.
When Jaehyun had fallen in love you, he knew he was in for some deep shit.
Picking you up had become a natural habit now. You had long since stopped calling your brother and instead resorted to texting Jaehyun first. It felt like an honor, to be entrusted with your care. That you’ve started to know him in a way that makes you rely on him. Picking you up had led to late-night-drives to sober you up, late-night-drives had turned into a shared breakfast the next morning when Jaehyun was worried about you having hangovers, and fussing over you had turn into regular meet-ups because Jaehyun could no longer deny that what he craved was not reassurance of your well-being, but you in person.
He remembered one morning where he had slept over after a particularly nasty crash-out. You had been laughing and weeping incoherently, your friend Karina aiding him with the information that you had failed your exam and drowned yourself in booze. He had texted DK a “FYI, your sister’s puking her guts out in my apartment” after deciding his home was closer than yours and you wouldn’t last long enough to throw up in your own toilet, before he had sat there with you and braided your hair back while you emptied out your entire stomach. The next morning, when he had woken up to you cuddled up to him still on the bathroom floor, he had carried you to his bed, tucked you in and walked into the kitchen to cook hangover soup, something he had mastered by this point due to the amount of times Mark had familiarized himself with that toilet just like you did last night. Having checked his phone, he read your brother’s only response: “LOL. didn’t even realize she left party”
You had wandered in shortly after, sleepy and pale like a ghost. The sound of your footsteps had startled Jaehyun, but his surprise had turned into a sudden happiness at the sight of your eyes lighting up when you saw him. The realization that his presence made you as happy as yours made him was invaluable. He loved the kind of person he was when you guys were together; existing felt like floating, a light cloud of pure contentment.
Even though there hadn’t been a lot of talking, you had both been deeply comfortable. That was the very first time he had kissed you; when you couldn’t stop singing his praises after claiming his soup was too tasty, he had simply leant over and shut you up himself. It was almost funny at how quickly you had dropped that spoon, tugging at his pyjama shirt to pull him closer, damn right pulling him over the counter. Not that he was complaining. He loved the way you made him feel, the way your touch made it feel like there were stars blooming below his skin. It made him feel like the brightest sun in the sky. “Why did you do that?” you had immediately asked when he finally pulled back. Jaehyun had cradled your face, realizing he was holding his entire world in the palm of his hand. “I just suddenly understood that I want to hold your hair back for you for the rest of my life,” he had admitted then, earning himself a slap to the shoulder. But you had laughed, that pure boisterous laugh that sparked with joy, and his heart had pounded in his chest: unable to handle the luck he was experiencing.
The mornings had blurred into days, the days into weeks, finally bleeding into the most happiest months of Jaehyun’s life. He’d never been cautious, but you had certainly made him braver. Sudden shenanigans in public, joking around entirely too loud during important events, having fun everywhere you guys were together. You had made him believe there were no honeymoon phases. Jaehyun woke and rose in the morning, and went to sleep in the dawn obsessed with you. There were rough patches, stressful and grieving periods when your private lives had been rocked particularly hard with a certain event, but he never once stopped adoring you. You were in every waking breath, every racing heartbeat.
Even now, as he wakes the day after your goodbye in the art gallery, he wakes up with the taste of hope in his mouth, of the shape of your heart on the tip of his tongue. He wakes still dreaming, always dreaming of you.
“So what you’re saying,” states Johnny, twirling a biscuit around in his coffee, “is that you had sex with your ex-girlfriend in a public museum, fully knowing she’s dating someone else.”
“Johnny,” comes the muffled response from where Jaehyun hides his face in his hands. It’s too beautiful of a day. It should be raining, to reflect Jaehyun’s mood, to encompass this entirely too awkward feeling of knowing Jaehyun was still in love with his ex. He had spent the entire morning racking his brain for ideas to get rid of the other man, feeling like Lana del Rey in her worst situationships. Jaehyun has reached a very new low, the kind of pathetic that makes him not care that he’s embarrassing himself by still being at your beck-and-call. “It wasn’t sex.”
Johnny waves the retort away. “Oral sex, then. Still sex.” The comment is too loud and earns Johnny some weirded-out looks, but the man looks completely unbothered. He had once watched Johnny talk about different sex positions completely seriously while standing in line for gelato in Little Italy, back when they had visited New York together. Johnny Suh did not know what shame was. “I never even knew you were freaky like that. Little exhibitionist freak. Maybe I underestimated you.”
“Johnny,” Jaehyun deadpanned. “Is this the time to be making jokes? Can we get to the point?”
“What point, dude? You basically went on your knees and asked her to take you back, and she didn’t. I didn’t realize you wanted me to throw salt into the wound.”
Jaehyun lowers his head to the tabletop, resting his too warm face against the metal surface. He doesn’t dare close his eyes, because the image of you is burned into his eyelids. He feels like an addict itching for a quick fix. It had been like this the entire week now. It was one thing to be ghosted by you and forced to move on by the lack of interaction, and another to be making out with you and getting his hopes up despite the fact you told him this was the last time. All it did was make him delusional enough to think he could convince you for it not to be. “She didn’t say no,” he tells Johnny, sounding pitiable even to him. “She just told me this had to be the last time.”
A few seconds pass before Jaehyun finally raises his head due to the lack of answer from his best friend. The look Johnny gives him tells him is answer enough, and Jaehyun pulls a grimace. He hadn’t expected of Johnny to be feeding into his delusions, but there had been some hope. Hope for you to call. Hope for you to come back. Hope for you to still want him.
You hadn’t unfollowed him yet; you hadn’t posted in days; and your brother has kindly snitched to him that you’ve even been blowing off Junseo. He knows you have finals coming up soon, but thinking rationally was something Jaehyun severely lacked at the moment. He had been entertaining the idea that the … meeting, for a lack of better words, in the museum had shaken you up as much as it did him. He kept replaying the memory in his head, the way your plush thighs had trapped him there on his knees, your pretty lips jutted in a pout, the tears falling from your eyes from the way he was making you feel so good … he almost felt himself get hard again, but quickly killed the boner by thinking of something else. “I just wish she’d be more clear,” he sighs out. At the sight of Johnny raising his eyebrows, he clarifies: “I mean that she’s playing hot and cold with me. I’m not stupid enough to not realize she does want to put an end to this. And yet she’s the one that followed me on Instagram, and kissed me, and made me fall all over again for her. I wasn’t doing well before I saw her again, but I was going somewhere.”
“Somewhere,” Johnny repeats, his tone mocking, but then he sets down the biscuit that had come with his coffee. This is what Jaehyun liked about him the most. He considered everything and thought about everything carefully before giving his honest opinion, and even though he sure as hell wasn’t unbiased, he still tried his best to be. “I guess,” Johnny concurs then. “I guess that’s true. I just think there must be a reason to this. I haven’t known her half as long as you do, but we were friends once, and she never once acted as irrationally as she did this past year.”
Jaehyun perked up at that. It was true, at least. In the weeks leading up to your break-up, as well as the months afterwards, you had been acting incredibly off, to the point that even your close ones had been questioning your case. He hadn’t realized how keen Johnny’s observations could be. “So you think she’s going through something that she couldn’t tell me?” he asks, his voice tentative.
Johnny shrugs. “That sounds like the most logical explanation to me. So you either hook up with her again and question her while you’re at it, or you start looking up ways to get rid of Junseo, I guess.” The suggestion makes Johnny’s face light up with excitement. “Dude, I actually always wanted to hire an assassin on the dark web. Do you think we can do that?”
“No, you idiot,” Jaehyun hisses back. But the gears in his head are already turning, chipping away at the past year, at your secret glances and your guilty letter and the sadness in your eyes when you had let him go. He had always thought that even though you had been decisive, you had at least been sad for not being able to love him in the way he deserved to be loved anymore. now he wonders how selfish he has been, and whether he should have been texting his ex all along instead of grieving what was.
Well. Jaehyun thought it couldn’t hurt to try.
Jeonghan sees him before you do.
It’s the way your best friend immediately starts cackling and turns back around to walk back into the library. You halt in your movements, looking at him imploringly. “Your ex, dude,” he tells you, visibly enjoying the way you immediately enter full-panic-mode. “You’re on your own.”
Your panicked “Hannie!” is drowned out by his snickers, and Jeonghan leaves you to your distress to pretend going to the bathroom. You met Jeonghan years ago, and even though he was older than you, you had become such fast friends that DK threatened to beat you guys up for laughing too loud whenever you were over at their dorms. He was your stupid older unnecessary brother that loved you more than anything, but he is also the most brutally honest one out of all of your friends. You do not go to Jeonghan for advice if you aren’t able to handle the truth. He cuts to the chase real quick and will call you out on your bullshit.
It’s also why he immediately told you that your plan wasn’t going to work out. “Let’s not pretend this is the most lovey-dovey you’ve ever been in your life,” Jeonghan had told you with a straight face. You wince at the memory; Jeonghan’s words are able to tear down buildings. “You love-love that man. You’re in deep, deep shit. Whatever it is you don’t want to tell me about, the thing that made you think up this idiotic plan in the first place, it won’t be able to amount to the feelings you have for him.”
Yes, you love-love him; you know just as much, and your heart sings with that knowledge. It pinches and tingles beneath your ribs, calling out a certain name. It rejoices at the sight of Jaehyun out there, in the rain, wearing not even a jacket but instead jeans and a hoodie that looks large even on him, and a bouquet in his hands. But you love him enough not to want to be selfish enough to endanger him.
The messages had blown up your instant message box for weeks then, each threat becoming more explicit. At first, you had resorted to deleting them. They were all the same at their core, anyways, the same hatred being spewed with different names. But then one persistent account had started attaching pictures to their messages, waking you up from the rose-tinted dream that was being in love with Jaehyun. Pictures of him at private events, including the other band members as well, even the youngest ones who were innocent. You hadn’t responded, but the fear had you making hasty plans; setting up everything carefully, writing the letter, while you prepared to leave Jaehyun in the most respectful way you could imagine because that is what you owed him. But then pictures of his own rented studio inside SM building had started popping up, a room you knew no one but Jaehyun and his aides should have access to, one single message with one ominous threat: Leave him or I’ll ruin the both of you. His life’s work being killed will be your fault.
Your lack of answer surely had made them furious.
You didn’t know whether to approach the managers, or even the police. Stalkers weren’t unheard of in the industry, one being caught and sued almost weekly by now, and Jaehyun had cycled through his fair share of them. No one had ever went for you in that way, though. You were certain that this wasn’t a singular threat, certain that this was someone who would pull out all stops to get rid of you. SM Entertainment was more tightly under lock and key than a literal jail. This person knew what they were doing. And so you did what you thought was right, at the cost of your own wellbeing. How much you had sacrificed and cried after distancing yourself from the man you considered your heart.
And yet here he was.
You shake the umbrella open before stepping out of the library, into the rain. In three quick strides, you’ve reached him. You try to convince yourself you’re just eager to be rid of him, but the corners of your lips quirk up way too happily for your brain to believe that. “Is this your equivalent of a boombox outside my window?” you question.
Jaehyun smiles, and it untangles the heavy knot of dread inside of you. The weather is awful, but you feel warm, spreading inside your chest like the soothing effects of medicine. “It kind of is,” he answers. He sounds like he is carefully weighing his words, but his voice is gentle. “I didn’t know which one your window was. And entering the building to go visit you in your apartment seemed creepy to even me.”
You tentatively reach out, brushing your fingers over the roses. They’re a deep red, plush and freshly bloomed. Expensive. Junseo has never even got you a three-dollar-bundle of flowers from the grocery store. “You know, I already have someone who’s giving me flowers,” you tell him, but the threat is empty. Every inch of you is bursting with happiness. Jaehyun is here, even though it’s the middle of the night and the weather is completely awful, just to give you roses.
(You never even make the connection someone must have told him you’re here. (DK was shitting himself for days in fear of you finding out he was the tattletale.)
Jaehyun hands you the bouquet, his hands covering your own as you grasp it. You watch him as he takes the opportunity to step closer to you, never once reprimanding him. His face is open and trusting, and the force of his loving gaze hits you right in the chest. “I know,” he retorts. “And the thought is killing me. It should be me. And so I will. I will keep buying you roses until you ask me to stop, sweetheart, because I don’t mind if you forget about me, but I was made to adore you. I can’t ignore my instincts.”
The confession does funny things to your heart, in a way that makes you beam at him for the first time in months. You haven’t smiled like this in so long, and your cheeks hurt from the lack of practise. Jaehyun, the damn fool; Jaehyun, the hopeless romantic; Jaehyun, the love of your life. “Killing you,” you muse, entertaining him. You are playing with fire, you realize, but you are coming to the understanding that even though you had made a decision for him in a completely unfair manner, because you felt threatened to do so, Jaehyun still chooses you. And he continues to choose you. He has respected your wishes, has kept his distance despite the grief you have caused him, and has only re-entered your life because you allowed him to do so. It was your own self-doubt about being the one for him that had forced your hand and made you not ask him for help about the threats; and despite the fact Jaehyun never understood why, he had still reassured you.
“Do you honestly mean that?” you ask him, even though you know what his answer will be. Even though your heart has always chosen him, this sweet boy who knew just what to say to cheer you up. Who listened when you talked. Who bought you gifts just because you mentioned liking some trinket in passing. Who remembers to kiss you every morning before you leave the house, even if it means dragging himself out of bed at 5am in the morning just to see you off because he knows he won’t see you the entire day. Who leaves little notes around the house for you to find when he is too busy to be with you. Jaehyun, your Jaehyun.
“I will always, always mean it,” he answers in the most earnest way possible. “I’ve been thinking about you all this time. I know how pathetic this sounds, but all this time, I kept envisioning you, and the thought of you kept me going even though I knew you weren’t a part of my life anymore. I like the person you made me become, sweetheart, and the way you have helped me shape my life into something I can be proud of. I just wish I had realized sooner that there was something bothering you - because there is, right?” His fingers gently squeeze yours in encouragement, and your little nod makes him press on. “I’m sorry,” he says, and surprises you. “I’m sorry for being so in love with your good and pure heart and failing to realize that it burdened you, despite how good and pure it was. You were going through something that you couldn’t handle, and I couldn’t see it, and I’m sorry.”
You tug at Jaehyun’s hands. His instantaneous, responding smile makes your heart skip a beat, and he lets you pull him down until you can press your lips to his soft, dimpled cheek. “You’re such a sore loser, Jeong Jaehyun,” you whisper then, but you loosen a hand from the bouquet and place it against his cheek to keep him there. To treasure him. “And such a sweet little idiot. You don’t have to apologize about a single thing to me.” He smells like home, like the only home you’ve ever known. Jaehyun hums, and nods in assent to the insults, and the agreement makes you laugh. You kiss his cheek again, and again, and again, until Jaehyun’s impatience makes him turn his head and kiss you so urgently that your head feels like it’s spinning. “Jaehyun,” you sigh into the kiss, feeling his teeth nip at your lower lip, feeling his hands close around your heart.
You have never felt so safe.
Jaehyun rests his forehead against yours, the pouring rain cascading around you both. “Does that mean I can kill your little boy toy now?” he asks, but you only smack him and smile shyly, your face radiant with adoration for him. “I am going to resolve some things first,” you tell him. “Until then, no murder.”
“And after that?”
“After that,” you say, “I am going to prove that my heart has always belonged to you, Jeong Jaehyun. Even when I made you doubt that.”
(For your information, Jeonghan has recorded that entire interaction and forwarded it to Johnny without context. Johnny had texted him back almost seconds later, asking, Who’s this and how’d you get my number? Hannie’s response, as you discover after he had confessed his betrayal, was I have my ways.)
Jaehyun,
I realize me writing another letter is cruel and ironic, but hear me out, please.
When I wrote my first letter, it was with the selfish intention of at least something of mine remaining with you. By the time you read this, I’ll hopefully have gathered enough evidence to explain my case to you and maybe have the guts to ask you to accompany me to the police, but what I first want to reiterate is: I love you. I love you the point of self-sacrifice. I love you enough that I turned my back on being selfless anyways and selfishly chose you, because you are the most important person in my heart. You will always come first.
When I wrote that letter to break up with you, I imagined a piece of myself embedding itself in the ink so that at least something could remain forever. In my mind, you were never ephemeral: no matter how many times I changed my paths and adjusted my future, it has always included you. I never once imagined building a life for myself that didn’t have you as its brilliant, shining center piece, the light of my life, my Jaehyun. I’ve always been afraid of falling in love head-first, always afraid of loving more than the other, but you have proven me wrong. And I love being proven wrong by you. I love the fact that you fiercely, sincerely, and lovingly pull me back to reality every time. Reality with you is more perfect than anything I could have ever dreamed of.
Since my first letter was supposed to be a goodbye, I want this letter to be proof that I choose to greet the future with you. I want this letter to be proof that I will never need a letter again. I want to spend the rest of my life loving you and telling you about it, and I will reassure you of that always, in the same manner as you have always me reassured me. You told me that my heart was good and pure, but I genuinely believe that I am constantly reflecting back what you give me: your kindness, Jae, your sincerity, your unbelievable humanity.
You are the only man I ever want roses in my life from, and that will never change. :) So if you finish reading this, stop creeping on my Instagram waiting for me to drop the other man and come bring me another bouquet so I can prove to you there has never been another. You are the only one in my heart.
With love,
your sweetheart
#not proof-read we die like men#i DESPERATELY wanted this out of my drafts#i had written this in a completely feral state after listening to jaehyun’s new album#and then normal me went ???? wtf am i supposed to do with this#not sure if i like how this turned out tbh!#(still not sure i like my writing)#(yes i sound like i am fishing for compliments but i honestly havent properly written something in MONTHS)#what jaehyun does to a mf#jeong jaehyun#jung jaehyun#jung yoonoh#nct x reader#nct#nct u x reader#nct u scenarios#nct 127#nct u#nct 127 x reader#nct fanfiction#nct 127 scenarios#jung jaehyun x reader#jung jaehyun smut#jung jaehyun fluff#jeong jaehyun smut#jeong jaehyun fluff#jeong jaehyun x reader#jung yoonoh x reader#jung yoonoh fluff#jung yoonoh smut#jeong jaehyun scenarios
360 notes
·
View notes