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[chocosea]

Article Title: プリキュアの“恋愛描写”は20年間でどう変わった？　「彼氏」すら表現できなかったプリキュアがわんぷりで「カップル誕生」を描けるまでに至った理由

What has changed in 20 years of Precure's depictions of romance? Reasons behind the change from seasons that couldn't include boyfriends to the birth of a couple in Wonderful Precure

Some basic summary of this post written by Kasumi, the guy who keeps track of Precure sales and makes handy graphs and whatnot.

The beginning of this article is summary of Wonderful Precure's Satoiro developments.

Later in the article, there's some quotes from Narita. Summarized: After the first few seasons, the response they got from parents was that they would prefer not to have romance because the girls watching this were like 3, 4 years old. So it was a taboo to write about romantic relationships.

The first few seasons were about falling in love with older boys shoujo manga-style, then we have Fresh's whole "I'm not telling you my answer" ending.

In Happiness Charge Narita was uncertain about whether they should do romance as one of the main themes but Nagamine wanted to go for it. So they did a love triangle as one of the main writing setups. Narita still asked multiple times if it was okay to write what she was writing. When Megumi lost in love at the end of the series it became a big topic.

After Happiness Charge they took a step back again and romance barely features besides crushes that don't go anywhere.

This changed in Hugtto when Homare gets turned down by Harry, and Hana's whole thing with George (aka her future schrodinger's evil husband).

None of these depictions are like focused on romance as something that actually leads to a mutual, intentional relationship.

Tropirouge was made specifically to have 0 romance

Black Pepper was created with the idea that he was supposed to work with the girls to save each other rather than just saving them from a pinch. His feelings were only written in to add a bit of spice to the show. But he signals a shift from possible love interests being a prince you admire to a partner that fights with you.

Every season that has served as a turning point in Precure's depiction of romance has had Narita in charge of series composition (Happiness Charge, Otona, and Wonderful).

Article mentions that while before it was unthinkable for idols and actors to have romantic partners, in the 2020 era it's become more normal for actors and TV talent to declare that they're dating and for idols to continue their idol work while being married.

プリキュアでも、かつては「コクる」「彼氏」という言葉1つだけでも保護者から大ブーイングだった時代がありました。

In Precure as well, there was an era where the words "confession" or "boyfriend" were met with loud booing from guardians.

But the times and mindsets have changed so now we have a married Precure and a Precure with a boyfriend.

梅澤　実は大ブーイングでした。「コクる」「彼氏」というセリフも評判が悪かったです。中学生だから、必然性があるから、大丈夫というわけじゃない。両親が観せたくない作品になっては『プリキュア』じゃない、と痛感しました。 ぴあ『プリキュアぴあ』（P87）

This quote is basically what was just summarized above. In addition to the booing thing, Umezawa (producer for Fresh, Heartcatch, Suite) says that he realized that if they wrote things that parents wouldn't want to show their kids then it wouldn't be Precure

So I guess parent opposition is indeed a big reason why they've been avoiding romance. But nowadays:

Satoiro has been massively popular with elementary school girls.

The target range for Precure has risen now also with the cosmetics and the like, ranging from elementary schoolers to young women.

We should expect to see more depictions of romantic love in Precure in the future.

"Change is Precure's strong point."

[avirael]

FFxivWrite 2024

Day 11 - Surrogate

"Laqa!", a woman’s voice scolded. "Didn’t I tell you to leave the boy alone?"

A tall woman with long white hair stepped closer and sternly looked at the cheerful blonde boy, who had introduced himself as Laqa. Her voice lacked sharpness though and her dark eyes sparkled with amusement.

"But mommy! A‘viloh seemed so lonely!" Laqa protested and A’viloh thought that she didn’t look like his mother at all. Painfully he was reminded of his own mother’s lifeless green eyes staring through him while her blood, as red as her hair - as red as his hair -, had spread across the sand. Stifling a sob, he buried his face at his knees, which he had pulled to his chest and embraced with his arms.

"A’viloh?", she asked confused. "Is that his name? Did he speak to you?"

Laqa nodded, obvious to the fact that the red-haired boy hadn’t spoken a single word to the Miqo’te women the whole way back across the desert. "But he says we can call him A‘vi and that he would like to stay with us. We can be his new family, right?"

This had mostly been the blonde boy’s interpretation and nothing A‘viloh had actually said but he didn’t care enough to protest.

The woman thoughtfully tilted her head and looked at both of the boys. Then she knelt down with a sigh and gently put a hand on the crying child’s back, carefully rubbing in circles.

"If it was only this easy… Besides, your father has the last say on this matter. He wants to see him first before he decides what to do with him."

"You can tell him to allow A‘vi to stay!", Laqa insisted. "He will listen to you."

"Maybe…", she mused. "Now go play with your siblings while I speak to your father."

The blonde boy put his arms on his hips and shook his head. "Uh-uh, I‘ll go with you! If he doesn’t listen to you, he will surely listen to me!"

"Laqa…", the woman said a little more sternly. "Do as I tell you or the only thing your father will listen to is your crying when you are grounded for a week."

Alarmed the boy hurried away and the women looked after him for a moment shaking her head, before returning her attention to A‘viloh and stretching out a hand for him to take.

"Now, A‘viloh - if this is your name - follow me, please…"

Anxiously he stared at her hand.

"There’s no need to be afraid anymore, you are safe here.", her voice sounded so soft and soothing, and a kind smile appeared on her face. Somehow the little Miqo’te believed that he could trust her.

Carefully A‘viloh reached out for her hand and let her help him get to his feet. With tiny, weak steps he climbed down from the small platform of the aetheryte and almost fell while doing so.

"Oh, you poor thing. Come here, I‘ll carry you…", she said and picked him up. The warmth of her body surprised the boy and with tears welling up in his eyes again, all he wanted to do was to cling to her, pretending she was his mother, and cry until he fell asleep.

But that wasn’t granted to him yet.

"Just a little longer and then you can rest, I promise.", she explained gently and brushed the tears on his face away with her fingers. "Try not to cry now, will you?"

Faintly A‘viloh registered that they entered a building, then a deep, loud voice spoke up. "Can the boy not even walk himself? Isn’t he a little to old already to still be carried around?"

A‘viloh was still too young to put a name to the mockery in the man's voice but it was clearly there.

Reluctantly he let the the woman put him down again but still he held on to hear leg and tried to hide behind it.

Angrily she addresses the man at the other side of the room.

"You can certainly see how weakened he is, he probably hasn’t eaten anything in days."

"Indeed, I can see he is quite weakish…", the man stated bluntly. "Give me one good reason why I should burden our hunters to feed one more hungry mouth instead of just sending him home."

"He is just a child, Odh!" the woman exclaimed pleadingly. "I told you his whole family was slaughtered by the lizards! Women! children! There was a dead baby barely a year old if at all! I know you’re not this heartless!"

"I‘m not heartless.", he said unmoved. "Just pragmatic. He‘s not one of our own and the tribe always has priority. We should think carefully about wasting our precious resources on outsiders."

Annoyed the woman growled. "You‘ve been listening a bit too much to my old father‘s antiquated nonsense it seems! Weren’t you an outsider yourself once?! Sure, he will have to be fed but don’t worry about your precious supplies! I will take care of and hunt for him all on my own if that’s necessary! I love you, Odh, but make no mistake, sending him away would be nothing but cruel and I don’t remember you treating strangers that way when we met! But if you decide to send him away anyway, know that I will go with him!"

It was an empty threat of course, she could never abandon her children and taking them with her would be too dangerous. But the implication alone had the desired effect.

A smirk appeared on the man’s face, he was visible amused by her emotional outburst. "Of course you are right, my love. How could I deny you any request. He can stay. At least until he is old enough to take care of himself or until he proves his right to belong to this tribe…"

She nodded. "That is all I am asking for, thank you. I will make sure you won’t regret this decision…"

Then the man focused his attention on A‘viloh. "Come over hear, boy! Let me take a look at you."

The women encouraged him to go but only reluctantly he stepped towards the man.

"What is your name?", the deep voice asked. A’viloh didn’t dare to look at him and just stared to the ground shaking, his ears flat at his head and his tail between his legs. Somehow this man scared him.

"Laqa says his name is A‘viloh.", the Miqo’te woman explained.

"Is that so, boy?", the man asked him.

Weakly A‘viloh nodded but didn’t dare to look up. Then the man reached out to him, put a big rough hand below his chin and turned his face upwards so he had to look into his face.

"You should look at people when they speak to you, you know…"

His eyes were bright and piercing and made A‘viloh feel uncomfortable. The man smiled but his smile didn’t look kind for some reason. The boy’s fearful eyes, swollen and red from crying, evaded his gaze, tried to look anywhere else but not at him directly. Finally his eyes landed on one of the windows at the back of the building and he almost gasped in surprise.

Through the glass the curious face of the blonde boy from the aetheryte plaza peeked into the room. As he noticed A‘viloh looking, he grinned and waved, before diving for cover as the two adults followed A’viloh’s surprised look.

For a moment there was silence.

Then the woman stepped beside him and kneeled down with open arms.

"Come, A‘viloh. You must be horribly hungry and tired. And we need to find new clean clothes for you too."

Without protest he let the woman pick him up again but held on tightly to the soft green scarf around his neck. He wouldn’t let her take it away no matter what.

He was glad to get away from the unfriendly man but still threw one last glimpse over his shoulder as they left, back to the window where a pair of blonde Miqo’te ears and curious, warm, golden eyes peeked over the windowsill.

Weakly A‘viloh smiled and cuddled closer to the friendly woman’s warm body.

[sheep-from-rad]

Idea! Neglected bar singer darling.

The joint they sing in is on the very outskirts of Gotham. The bars in the basement of a restaurant.

Its pretty clear darling is saving up money to slowly inch away from Gotham and from there neglectful and sometimes (often) cold family.

So they dress as a Him/femme/them fatale and saunter up to the stage and sing there lil heart out and get both the thrill of all the attention in a room being on them and the money in there tip jar to boot.

Imagine what happens when a clip of darling singing goes fucking viral. (I'd like to think it's would be "be your baby tonight" give it a listen if you want. I like norah jones' cover)

What I'm saying is there is no way any of the batfam would approve of darlings career choice.

I love this kind of asks!~ Requests are now open again but we warned, I'm a snail paced writer T__T This took a while because I have this habit where I write it down first on paper before typing it. Like I make a draft first and reread before typing it to see if I should add more or remove some. First fic about singer reader: here and part 2 here. 😅

**DC characters belong to DC and I don't give permission to feed my writings to AI. Thank you**

Masterlist(Batfam)

Masterlist (All of my other fics)

divider by: @k1ssyoursister

Okay okay, here me out. I know you said secret bar under a restaurant but my brain read the word ‘bar’ and ran away with it 😭. 

You know what this smells like? Scandal and maybe even a disaster waiting to happen too. You know what's a famous bar in Gotham? The Iceberg lounge that is run by Mr. Cobblepot (Penguin) and  is frequented by rogues  such as Riddler. 

Life in the Iceberg Lounge isn't that bad, maybe intimidating at first but it became a small comfort. Mr. Cobblepot lets you keep the tips, the lounge beauties (Raven, Lark, and Jay) are great companies, and workplace harassment? You don't really have to worry about that. If you ever get flirted on or harassed by small fries and drunkards and then rest assured a bigger, scarier person at the back of the crowd will beat the harasser and throw them out. They might be villains but they have standards and harassing the lounge’s songbird is a big no no! 

The clip of the singer reader went viral for a ton of different reasons: (1) The singing and the amount of simps you raked 24 hours after the clip has been posted. I have a headcanon that Mr. Cobblepot will nickname you as either Nightingale or Songbird to fit the crew because the lounge beauties are nicknamed after birds.(2) People can see villains just chilling at the background of the video. Riddler's nursing a whiskey at the counter, Two face is playing chess with Penguin who is multitasking in helping mix some drinks. Hell, even Harley and Ivy are in the background having a moment with the strippers.

(3) Why is Bruce Wayne’s kid at the Iceberg lounge? I have a teeny tiny headcanon that even though the reader was neglected they are still forced to attend galas once or twice because Bruce won't and then it will be like a big media scandal. Also reader's public appearances with Bruce or with the other Wayne children might be low but they still have hundreds of followers. The Wayne name alone is basically a celebrity name because of Bruce being heavily revered by the public. Think of it like nepobaby shit. (4) That stage presence and sheer seductiveness. Being a Wayne, I'm sure the reader was taught etiquette by Alfred and was taught how to dress properly. They are also taught how to behave. However on that vid, you look like you were dressed by the Gotham sirens (Ivy, Harley, and Selena) themselves. All those good boy, good girl, good child stuff are out of the window. If the reader was just blending in the background before and the video is the opposite. It's almost commanding every viewer to look at them, pay attention to them, worship the very ground they walk on, and love them! At this point just expect simps. 

The family loves the video but at the same time they also hate it. They had their copies downloaded and saved and then they'll immediately task Barbara into scrubbing the video off of the internet but it's too late. The video has been re-uploaded to hundreds of different accounts and some  news outlets had already published articles about it. The articles ranged from sweet ones like praising the reader for their awesome stage performance and singing to downright insane clickbaits like ‘Bruce Wayne secretly allied with Gotham rogues?’ 

The whole thing is very stressful and I pray to the DC gods that Bruce Wayne is very healthy because this guy's blood pressure might as well go high up. Imagine trying so hard to keep up with the ditzy playboy public persona to hide your vigilante secret identity only for your kid to be filmed singing and being cozy at the Iceberg lounge. Not only that! You also placed yourself in danger too! It's not a secret that a lot of rouges knew Batman's real identity (Joker knows it, he just doesn't care. He's so cool for that). Sure they don't attack Batman when he's Bruce and sure they are a sweet pseudo-family to you right now but who's to say that they won't use you when push comes to shove? 

While Bruce deals with the media, Barbara and Tim work on the damage control and tracking every video, expect heavy guilt tripping and interference from Damian, Dick, and even Alfred (in his defense, he wants you safe and will only ask for you to get a better job or at least work in a place not frequented by villains). Dick will be actively poisoning the well. He'll make you sit down and read the crime archives with him (starting from the heaviest crime down to the pettiest crime) and will tell you stories about their encounters with each of them. Damian will try to keep you from getting to work and will try to keep you in your room if you haven't moved out of the estate. He'll ask you to go around with him, feed his pets with him and even asked you to watch him train (he doesn't know how bonding works, please be understanding). If you had left the estate and then expect him to show up and walk in your place like he owns it. He's one of those cats that you feed once and then suddenly shows up and won't leave you alone anymore. 

Oh, you still won't come home? You still wanna continue that dangerous job of yours? Pick your poison then. Do you want them to call Jason to get to the bar and take you home, knowing him some heads will sure go flying. Or do you want the family to stage a stakeout, infiltrate the bar, and capture and lock up all the villains forever. Go on, go choose. 

[aethelwyneleigh27]

Baby fever Scenarios and Headcanons with Husband!Simon "Ghost" Riley (Ghostie)

Thank my baby godson for this one, if it hadn't been for him having me take care of him for the whole day then I wouldn't have anything to write because as of now I have no motivation or ideas to continue my past wips. Render credits are all to the lovely @ave661 who keeps feeding us. My little godson still sleeping on my chest, drool, snore and all as I'm writing this. I can't move, please send help. This is so short too, sorry to disappoint you guys 😭

Y'all CANNOT tell me I'm the only one who thinks of Simon "Ghost" Riley having baby fever from his own children (I would give him more, all he needs to do is ask 😭). Also these are basically moments of Simon with Ghostie, just a bit more general in terms of the baby's gender since some of y'all want boy!dad Simon but originally Ghostie is a girl.

My CoD Masterlist

Taglist: @wishesforyou @puff0o0 @simping4konig @blingblong55 @azereus @rustic-guitar-notes @shadofireshinobi @thesnowurzikdjinn @09maruchan @anonymuslydumb @skeletalgoats @icarustypicalfall @ghosts-cyphera @cutenote @connorsui @capuccino192 @miss-gms-and-the-rotten-womb @celestialhole @trepaika @starryylies @everlastingmoonlightsworld

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who loves to toss the baby up in the air, simply just for amusement and both of them needed entertainment. Safe to say Soap never did that until the little one was a lot older because when he did it, he ended up with a glob of drool on his face.

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who is always so vocal with his baby, you could just tell the influence of him talking to the baby. Just the rumble of his voice sends the tiny one into a fit of giggles while they're on his chest.

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who was influenced by you to do that viral thing on the internet, people throwing a slice of cheese on their crying baby to make them stop. It worked and they ate it.. now he keeps the fridge stocked with sliced cheese for that reason.

❥ Babyfever!Husband!Simon who was determined to assemble everything, baby's crib, the car seat.. though the bottle sterilizer was something he needed your help with. Both of you trying to figure where the missing piece went only to find your little one chewing on it.

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who comes home late at night yet his little one follows him like a mother duck, as much as he wants to, Simon refused to have contact until he's out and squeaky clean from a shower. Always worrying about how they might catch something from outside while the little one is directly outside the bathroom door waiting for their dad and peeking from the little space underneath the door, knocking every 3 minutes for dada to come out.

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who has the time of his life teaching the baby CPR, it started as a joke between the 141 and now your baby knows the word and knows what to do in response to it, the bunny stuffie is the one receiving the medical attention with the little crisp giggle after Simon praises them.

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who you find laughing his ass off at Soap who was forced by the puppy eyes of your little one to wear a pink tutu that was on the verge of breaking from his size, glittered fairy wings that were made of wire and horrid quality of pink mesh fabric, a plastic tiara and a light up fairy wand. They forced him to do ballet. (Gaz definitely had that as his phone's wallpaper for a month)

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who love cherishing little moments of how the world reminds him of how naive, dumb and gullible his little one could be. Having a leash kid yet for a completely different reason from misbehaving and being too hyperactive. Walking on a bridge with him over a river as a little family outing at the park when your little one pointed at the aggressive stream of water underneath, Simon jokingly asking them if they want to be tossed in and without a word they turn to you with their arms up and wiggling for uppies. When that didn't work they turned to their dad doing the same thing, making Simon chuckle so much that he almost coughed as they slowly let their arms drape back down to their sides, little pout in disappointment. You playfully glared at your husband, having to explain to a toddler why they can't swim in a strong stream of dirty water.

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who is very much amused about how the baby likes his stuble, hoping he won't cause a rash to them because of how much they press their face into his. He makes sure it's extremely well kept after the very first time it happened 😭.

❥ Babyfever!Dad!Simon who loves seeing his toddler in their sleep shirt which is basically just his shirt drooping on the floor because it's too big for them but the they're chunky enough to keep it on themselves. Just thinking of Simon hearing the loud stomps of footsteps approving their bedroom, the short pause of silence before the frantic sound of the door knob jingling, he always knew who was about to enter the room. Holding their bunny stuffie while pulling on the blanket of their dad's side of the bed to ask him for help to climb up.

[silkscream]

bullfight of love

ੈ✩ choso x reader

ੈ✩ tags: flirting, masturbation, porn watching, vaginal sex, riding, soft sub!choso, 2000s au, coworkers, workplace relationship, film bro stuff

ੈ✩ wc: 4.7k

ੈ✩ a/n: i wanted to write choso being a weirdofreak pervert boy that's all. this is part of my fics for gaza <3 there will be a part two for this. do not ask me about a part two because it's already being made

Maki could kill you for being late again. Five missed texts, the final exaggerated with periods and exclamation points – and she never used proper spelling, let alone punctuation. It wasn't serious the way she made it out to be. 

Toji never cared about your track record. The bastard was never in the shop anyway, probably high off his ass in whatever shed of a place he lived in. Maki already hated her cousin enough for the rest of the crew, running that stupid video store like it was a real family business. It was a summer job to you and nothing else.

She sighs when she sees you walk through the door, handing you your name tag without a word before fucking off to the storage room to look at the new shipments.

“Don’t give me the silent treatment!” you yell after her. In response, you only get a middle finger, chipped black nail polish with half a skeleton decal hanging on.

It’s always slow on Mondays. Considering the new cinema that opened across the street, it's slow every day. You should’ve taken a job there, scooping buckets of buttered popcorn instead of telling off porn-stached men who continually mistook the shop as the old adult video store. 

You mindlessly watch Reservoir Dogs on the CRTV, shaken by the sudden flood of middle school students paving their way to the used video game section. Fumbling with the remote, you meet a hard-faced Maki once again. 

“You can’t put on Tarantino, dude. Kids are in here.”

“It was already on,” you shrug. 

Maki rolls her eyes and points to a small stack by the register – some John Hughes VHS tapes. Sixteen Candles. The Breakfast Club. Most shit that both of you hated.

“Gotcha.”

“Can you deal with the new kid, today? Toji didn’t scan all the new shit in like he was supposed to last week.”

“New kid?”

“Uh, yeah. Goth-ish. Like he got spit out of a Hot Topic or something,” she snorts. “No hazing.”

“I should be saying that to you.”

She scoffs at you before rushing back. You’d had a crush on her when you started working there, back when she still had an eyebrow piercing before she let it get infected. She had that Silent Hill look about her for lack of better words. Resting bitch face with a raspy pout. 

Your head swims a little, pounding from dehydration. The morning joint didn’t help, either, nor did the fact that you had to train a newbie today. 

It’s quiet after the kids leave, snatching up some forbidden R-rated movie that’ll traumatize them during a basement sleepover. You nearly doze off once the clock hits three, but loud footsteps bring you back to life. 

A boy that couldn’t be much older than you stares into you, narrowed eyes boring into your soul. You see the dark birthmark across his nose first, as if someone had slashed him with a blade in one straight swoop. He smells like cigarettes and his eyes are decorated with some reddish eyeshadow. Either that or he had the complexion of a sickly Victorian child. 

“Hey,” you deadpan. “Can I help you?”

“I’m the new hire,” he says. His voice is low. He reminds you of the goths that would hit on you at high school parties. He's prettier, though. 

You give him a once-over quickly – he’s taller than you expect, for some reason, and you notice the blooming swirls of abstract tattoos peeking from beneath his sleeves.

“You don’t sound so sure about that,” you smirk. 

He rolls his eyes and introduces himself. Choso. You repeat his name, tasting it on your tongue. He has half a mind to shake your hand but pulls away awkwardly. You take note of the silver rings adorning his fingers.

You tilt your head. “I like your, uh, space buns…”

“Uh, thanks,” he narrows his eyes.

“Okay, so… have you ever used a cash register?”

“Yes.”

“Great. That’s basically half the job.”

You show him the ropes – how to make sales and deal with teens. Cash drops and tracking inventory. You ask him what attracted him to the idea of working at a run-down video store and he says he likes movies and easy money. His brother liked the place, too. 

“You got the Human Earthworm series, boss?” he drones, bored.

“Yeah, think so. You like romance-horror or just terrible practical effects?”

He snorts. “My little brother likes it. Wants to have a marathon with me.”

“Cute.”

Hours pass and he’s gotten the hang of it. If anything, there are more customers than usual today, because you suppose that Choso is conspicuous in appearance and the teenage girls that hang around at the food court need something new to play with. 

It stirs something uneasy in your gut, the waft of saccharine perfume in the air. Girls with tongue piercings, lollipops staining their lips as they bend over the counter to talk to Choso. Ripe girls.

They probably thought he could buy them alcohol, take them for a joyride. He’d only offer them an aloof, blank stare in return. It makes you almost giddy. By the time night comes around, you tell them to fuck off like flies.

“Closing time.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Choso mock-salutes, an amused smirk on his lips. Half-lidded eyes like a cat, maybe a stoner, though he didn’t smell like it. You saw him on his break anyway, sipping down an Asahi Super Dry in the back as if you weren’t looking.

He already knew his place, knew that you wouldn’t rat him out. It was the way something flickered in his eyes when you caught him. A taunt, a quiet challenge. 

You watch him count cash. Chipped black fingernails looked odd on his veiny hands like they were painted in a rush by a child. You notice scrawled pen on his pale skin. Smudged phone numbers.

“Getting hit on already?”

He glances at you and shrugs, hiding a smile. “Half were just from bored teenagers. Other half bored single mothers.”

“Any takers?”

“Wouldn’t you like to know.”

You narrow your eyes. 

“Ha. Don’t be jealous.”

“I’m not,” you snort. “As long as we get customers I guess.”

“Oof. You’re cold. You don’t care how I get these people to buy these movies as long as they buy ‘em, huh?”

“You’re not whoring yourself out by being a cashier. Relax.”

He shrugs on his jacket. Crumpled leather, the kind that held the smell of smoke over generations. It made him look like Takuya Kimura in that way, maybe if his hair was down.

He grins when he finds you staring.

“We done for the night, then, boss?”

You roll your eyes at the nickname. “Uh-huh. Night, newbie.”

He smiles sardonically, looking out and noticing the rain. He curses inwardly, knowing that skating home would be a bitch, and the next bus to his side of town wasn’t for another half hour. He clears his throat.

“Leaving already?”

“Yeah. What, don’t have a ride home, kiddo?”

“Fuck off. I’m not a damn kid. I’m just not someone with a car,” Choso mutters dryly. “I work at a movie rental place for a living. I take the bus everywhere.”

“Sucks to suck then,” you smirk, saluting him goodbye. You throw him the keys. “I trust you to lock up then, yeah? See ya.”

He lets out a frustrated scoff but doesn’t bother to convince you, opting to watch you go. Once you’re out of reach, he sighs and turns, shoving his hands into his pockets and looking around the dim store. 

Yuuji was probably out with that sea urchin–haired punk again. He had to remind himself to save up for a car instead of constantly having to share their parents’ beat-up Toyota.

He could take advantage of the shitty TV in the office, maybe. Watch a stupid re-run while he waits, because he sure as hell isn’t going to wait out in the rain. He walks in and settles on the black leather couch straight out of an amateur porno. He snorts and looks through a fat stack of DVDs in the corner. 

His mouth twists when he picks up something with a racy title. His eyes widen when he realizes it’s an adult film.

“Holy shit,” he mutters, scoffing. He lets out a low whistle, glancing around the office as if someone’s out there, ready to jump him. It’s eerily quiet. He can’t even hear the pitter-patter of rain from in here.

He skims the back cover. It looks crude, but Choso has never really been one to turn down something raunchy. He liked stupid movies, gory ones, art films with weird unsimulated sex. He’d gotten off to In the Realm of the Senses when he was thirteen. Skimming through something this cheap shouldn’t hurt. It wouldn’t arouse him — it would be as entertaining and silly as watching a sitcom for him.

He inserts the disc into the DVD player and waits for it to load. There are no cameras in the office, he notices. Figures. The way you talked about the owner made it seem like the place was barely being held together if not for you.

And then, he thinks of you. He immediately thought you were pretty, not that he’d ever let you know that. Plainer than his usual type, but something was alluring about the curve of your mouth, the way you spoke. He liked that you didn’t take shit most of all. It was probably the hottest thing about you.

He knew better than to fuck around with a coworker, however. It never ended well and resulted in petty drama. He was too old for that shit, wasn’t in high school anymore — he was a man.

When the intro to the film finally loads, a woman in a skimpy, barely-there dress appears on the screen. It’s something vintage, for sure, given the grain. She’s in a love hotel. 

Choso fast-forwards through blurs of messy kissing, colored lights illuminating a heart-shaped tub. He pauses on a frame of the girl riding, her mouth wide open in ecstasy. He presses play.

After about ten minutes, he finds himself in a trance watching with rapt attention at the way the actress moves. His cock twitches when he realizes that she looks a little too much like you. 

She moans particularly loudly and his mouth parts. Something snaps inside of him. 

He has to pause it again. Jesus.

Choso feels like a pervert. No, he’s a man with urges, needs. It’s a pure coincidence that the actress in the porno looks like you of all people. It’s not like he sought her out himself. A movie like this shouldn’t even be in here.

He grits his teeth, hands clenching around the couch leather until his knuckles are white. He takes a breath before pressing play again and his eyes widen when the girl gets even louder.

Ah, fuck it.

He mutters under his breath, shifting on the couch. Glances at the blowjob lips on the screen, soft and plush. He thinks of you and swallows. He bites his cheek, conflicted.

Maybe he shouldn’t.

Then again, no one has to know.

He lets out a shaky exhale, trying to resist the pressure building inside him. It feels like trying to contain a geyser with a cup, and he hasn’t even touched himself yet. 

After contemplating for a beat, he sighs and unbuttons the fly of his jeans, using his other hand to press play again. A gasp escapes his lips as he watches the girl on the screen. The curve of her back, the bounce of her tits. She looks soft. He wonders if you’d be as —

No. No. He’s not doing that.

He spits in his hand and strokes himself, his breathing starting to come out in short, uneven pants. There’s a rush of heat in his gut as he watches. His head tilts back slightly, eyes roaming the ceiling before closing them as he attempts to calm himself down. It’s no use.

His breath hitches, eyes glued to the screen. He’s memorized by the slick flowing out of her. Fuck, he hasn’t gotten laid in a long time. It’s killing him.

It’d be okay if he pretended it was you. It’s not like you would find out. He could imagine fucking your face the way the guy was doing right now in the video, making the bitch gag and moan. Whimpering at being called a good girl. 

“Oh, god–” he mutters, his voice a strangled gasp. She really did look like you. Disturbingly so. When he’s done, he’ll have to wash his hands for five minutes straight from the shame. 

He pants, his grip on himself firm as he squeezes his shaft. Precum smears over his tip and he groans at the sound of the woman’s whimpers getting louder and louder. It makes his lungs seize. He’s getting close.

He doesn’t even register the jingling of the doorknob.

Choso’s head jerks up, his eyes widening in shock as his head turns to see you in the doorway blinking at him. 

“Oh.”

His throat’s dry. What a cruel fucking joke from the universe. There’s no coming back from this. Not when the video’s still going and he’s still half dressed, hand on his fly in mortification.

You tilt your head, smirking. “Nice cock.”

Choso’s at a loss for words, staring at you with embarrassment and utter daze. What the fuck?

“I, uh…” he chokes out, his voice rough and more high-pitched than usual. Face burning. 

He’s going to get fired. No – he has to quit before you even get another word in, save the little dignity he has, maybe convince Yuuji to move to another shitty town with him so he never has to see you again —

“Forgot my wallet,” you say, snapping him out of his thoughts. 

You walk into the room, peering at him. Your eyes fall on the TV, which is still going. The moans feel cheap and tacky now that he’s back in reality. 

Choso scrambles to press the stop button on the remote, his other hand moving to put a pillow on top of his leaking dick. His eyes flicker wildly between your face and the screen.

“You find that in here?”

“Uh… yeah… I, um—”

You snort. “Forgot to tell you that this used to be an adult video store.”

“That explains the selection,” he mutters sheepishly. 

You eye him carefully. He blushes. “Didn’t finish?” you taunt.

He feels too fucking humiliated to say anything, so he mutely nods instead. He fumbles with the zipper of his jeans underneath the pillow.

“Need some help?”

He gapes at you for a moment before looking away. You look amused as you scan his face. Was he hearing you correctly? Was he dreaming?

“Are you— are you offering?” he gasps out, dumbfounded. 

“Wouldn’t be the first time I’ve done something like that in here.”

Choso’s jaw drops. 

He stares at you for a moment at a loss for words. Curiosity begins to win out over embarrassment.

“With… who?”

“None of your business,” you chuckle.

He doesn’t like that answer. His jaw clenches, knowing that it’s stupid that it hurts his ego a bit for no reason at all. It doesn’t matter. He doesn’t press the issue as his gears turn back to your previous offer.

“Then you… uh… want to…? With me?”

“You want to, right?”

He swallows nervously, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. He looks at your body shamelessly for a bit. He’s still so fucking hard. Finally, he nods shyly.

“Okay. Take your clothes off, then.”

For a moment, he wants to protest. This is the last thing he expects from you. Maybe it was a blackmail situation — if he doesn’t let you fuck him, would you fire him? 

He realizes that he doesn’t care either way if he gets to fuck you.

He pushes his jeans down with his boxer briefs, shoves the pillow in his lap away with a blush. Slowly, he strips off his t-shirt, leaving him completely exposed. He can feel your gaze on him, raking his chest and arms, the tattoos on his skin. He looks up at you again almost desperately. 

“I meant it,” you drawl. “You do have a nice cock.”

“Th-thanks…” he croaks. 

“Why so nervous?” you tease. “You were flirting with me all day.”

“Yeah, but–” he mutters, huffing defensively. “I didn’t think you’d actually—”

“Wanna fuck you?” you finish for him.

You say it so bluntly that it catches him off guard. He hadn’t really given it too much thought. You were somewhat receptive to his advances if he could call it that. It was mostly him being himself. His sarcasm was meant to be flirting, but none of it was that serious. He found you hot and interesting. He liked that you could keep up with him. 

When he started touching himself with you in mind, everything was thrown out the window. He wanted you, and would probably dream about you when he got home, but the guilt and shame of doing something so depraved in his place of work made him embarrassed. He wouldn’t have been able to face you on his next shift, and then you decided to barge in and ruin everything. 

And now, you’re offering yourself to him on a silver platter. It was absurd.

He narrows his eyes. “What’s in it for you?”

“I think you’re hot. Isn’t that enough?” 

“You… you actually wanna… uh–”

“Yeah, Choso,” you roll your eyes. “I wanna fuck you.”

He shifts on the couch, eyes roaming hungrily over your body as his breaths grow labored. He swallows a lump in his throat.

“Then… do it,” he mumbles.

You grin, moving to straddle his lap. His hands flex and he has to remember to not appear so eager. This is just a casual hookup with a coworker. One born out of bizarre circumstances, sure, but he needs to play it cool. He grips the edge of the couch.

“Don’t wanna touch me?”

He feels even more meek, if that was possible. He hesitates, throat bobbing as he swallows. He’d had girls in his lap before. Bouncing them on his cock until they cried. For some reason, he feels like the submissive one here just because you’re on top of him. 

“Uh,” he stammers. His voice is quiet, nervous. You think it’s cute. “I didn’t know if I was, uh, allowed to—”

“Go ahead.”

He holds back from kissing you. Instead, he smoothes his large hands over your hips, the curve of your waist. He lifts his hands to the edge of your shirt and hooks his fingers into the hem, slowly tugging it upwards. The reveal of skin is tantalizing, makes his mouth water like a man stranded in a desert. 

Sparks jolt the length of his spine as his fingers brush over the bare skin of your stomach. Fuck, you’re soft. He knew you would be. He pulls the shirt over your head and ogles stupidly at your chest. 

“Someone’s worked up,” you tease, playing with his hair. You undo his buns, leaving his hair down.

“Of course I am,” he mutters, his voice strained. “You’re sitting on my lap, looking like that—”

“Can I kiss you?”

His eyes widen. 

“Please,” he breathes. It almost comes out like a desperate whine. “I mean— yeah—”

You raise a brow, laughing. It makes his face heat up down to his neck. 

“Begging already? Thought you’d be more of a dominant type.”

You’ve thought about me?

“I— I am,” he grumbles. 

“Uh-huh. I’ll let you prove it later.” You lean in.

“Promise?” He looks at you with something eager in his gaze and your eyes soften. 

“Mhm.”

Finally, he captures your lips with his. You sigh into it and it makes his cock throb underneath you. He takes that as an invitation, his tongue immediately pushing past the plush of your lips. He reaches up to grab the back of your head and tangles his fingers in your hair as if he’s done it all before. It makes you moan a little in his mouth.

He moans back, pulling you flush against the hard planes of his chest. You pull back slightly, leaving him to chase your lips for a moment as he lets out a small huff of protest. When you look at him, his eyes are half-lidded, lips slightly parted and shiny with spit.

“You’re pretty,” you say without thinking. “Real pretty.”

He flushes, unable to form words. His expression immediately floods with disappointment when you get off his lap to stand. 

“Where are you going?” His voice would be whiny if it wasn’t so gruff from desire. 

“Relax, idiot.” You unbutton your pants, sliding them down slowly. He assumes you’re teasing him, which he doesn’t particularly mind. You’re a sight to behold. His cock twitches as his eyes look at your smooth thighs. 

“Get over here,” he huffs. You laugh, moving to straddle him. 

He doesn’t have time to react before you lean in to immediately nip at his neck. He lets out a moan, hips bucking involuntarily. You can feel his pulse quickening, the vibration of his moans underneath your lips. 

“Fuck,” he gasps. His fingernails dig into the meat of your waist. 

He can’t stay still. It takes him everything in him to not rock his hips up into you. It doesn’t help that he can already feel your wet heat hovering over his cock. His brain nearly short-circuits. He preens under you, grabbing at you like you’re going to fly away. 

“Be patient. Wanna play with you first,” you mumble.

Choso’s eyes flutter closed as you speak. You sound so fucking sexy right now, he can’t stand it. It’s better than the stupid filler plot he scrubbed through in that damn porno. Miles better. 

“Play with me,” he grits. “Fuck — later.”

“Oh, yeah. Forgot you were pregaming this before I walked in.”

He glares at you. It’s entertaining watching the expression melt off his face when you lift your hips and immediately slam down on him. The moan he lets out is guttural. His hands immediately find your hips.

“Hah – fuck,” you breathe. “You’re bigger than you look.”

Choso lets out a strangled chuckle, head falling back on the couch. It makes him look even hotter, the way his tattoos flex with his collarbone. 

“Told you I wasn’t a kid.”

Your laugh tapers off into a moan when he gives a small, tentative roll of his hips. Testing the waters. You’re so fucking tight that it’s making it hard for him to even think. When he hears you gasp at being filled by him completely, his eyes widen.

“Shit,” he gasps. “Wanna make you do that again—”

“H-Huh?”

His eyes lock on your face as he grins, grinding into you slowly. 

“That noise–” he groans, his throat taut and dry. “You made this little gasp—”

“Ah–”

“There it is,” he snickers. His eyes gleam. “Just like that.”

Your eyes roll back, mirroring the roll of his cock inside you. Your cunt clenches around him and it feels like fucking heaven. He can feel all your wetness drool into his lap. He had the urge to push you into the leather, cant his hips up like something rabid. 

It feels like his brain was going to fall out of his nose, the head rush in tandem with the blood pumping into his cock. Impossible tightness. Snug cunt, petals closing into a bud. 

When you wrap your arms around him, it almost feels romantic. It’s dangerous.

He kisses you, then. Quivers when he feels you getting lost in it, tasting nicotine in your swapped spit. He whimpers as you start to move your hips with more intention. You smile wryly at his reaction, pulling away, eyes fixed on where your bodies meet.

You’re a fucking wet dream while you’re riding him. The way your hair brushes messily over your jawline, the way your mouth parts with a gasp every time he feels you pulsate on his cock. Choso grabs your ass greedily and kneads it, mesmerized at the softness of your flesh. 

“God, you look so fucking good right now—”

His eyes flash as he watches you move. He tries to match your tempo, rutting up into you with frenzied effort. His cheeks are flushed as he nearly unravels himself for you, his expression raw and hungry. He leans in to suck on your tongue, descending his wet mouth down to your jaw, your tits. Oral fixation.

You can feel him deep in your stomach, buried in you. It’s as if he could pierce you through the throat. You’re sure that you’ll ache everywhere by the time you get home. You’d never taken a cock quite this big, never been this wet, your insides swirling around like a washing machine. Your guts all muddled with something that felt too warm for just lust.

“So fucking hot,” he mumbles, hands pressing into your bare thighs. 

All his preoccupations with you had disappeared. He didn’t care if you thought he was a pervert, since you were one too, in a way. Letting him fuck you like this when he barely knew you at all, yet a repressed part of his brain made his heart flutter at the thought of you. It didn’t help that he could practically feel your heartbeat with his cock.

It isn’t romance — it has to be the sex. He can’t think about it too much right now. Not when he’s in a state of delirium inside your cunt.

“Choso, I’m close,” you whine.

“Yeah?” he rasps. “Fuck, me too.” 

His hair is tousled and sticky. Eyes glazed, chest rising and falling rapidly.

He grabs at your hips, guiding them to grind on him faster. Your wetness makes it all so smooth — all buttery, no resistance. You feel full.

He feels like he’s being squeezed to death, to heaven. It sends him over the edge at the same time he feels your pussy clench around him. You tremble in waves as you gasp out a moan. It’s more like a choked breath. He can’t stop watching you as you come, the way your eyes roll back. 

A whine escapes his throat as he cums. Everything that seeps out is slick, feels like something new and primordial at once. Seraphic, he’d say, if he happened to be drunk. He certainly feels drunk.

Choso doesn’t expect you to kiss him so sweetly after such a vulgar affair. He lets out a long exhale into your mouth with eyes closed, letting his head fall back a little while your hands cup his cheeks. His body is all melted limbs, languid sex. 

“Jesus,” he mutters. 

“Hey.”

He opens his eyes and gazes at you through sleepy lids. He lifts a hand lazily, brushing the hair away from your face.

“Yeah?”

“Did you pick an actress that looked like me on purpose?”

He freezes. His hands tighten around your waist as he looks away.

“No,” he scoffs. “Just thought she was hot—”

You chuckle.

“I didn’t pick it, I found it,” he gruffs. “I’ll admit that… she looks like you… I guess.”

“Was I as good?” 

He scoffs again, his eyes flashing with a mix of playfulness and irritation. You were as much of a little shit as he was.

“You’re better,” he rolls his eyes. “I already told you what I think, dumbass. Real pretty.”

“Oh, did you?”

There’s a hint of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips. “I’d be pretty pissed if you weren’t better than some stupid video—”

“Idiot. Those girls are probably like, Olympians at fucking. Porn isn’t like real sex anyway.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know,” he grins. He pauses for a moment, suddenly looking timid. “It’s just… a decent placeholder for when I… y’know.”

“Just call me next time.”

Choso’s eyes widen slightly, unable to hide his surprise. He sputters for a second.

“What? I’m, uh— not gonna call you every time I—” he groans, “That’ll be way too many times.”

You raise a brow.

“Wait, no— that came out wrong. I’m not some horny freak or something—”

“I mean, given how I found you…”

“That’s—” he stammers, unable to complete a sentence without his brain completely blacking out every millisecond. “That was a one-time thing.”

“Hope so. I don’t wanna fire you, newbie,” you grin.

His pulse quickens at your smile. 

“Like hell, you will. You’re too understaffed to fire me.”

PART TWO

[writtnbyhan]

NFWMB.

PAIRING: bang chan x female!reader

TAGS: protective chan, idol!chan, non-idol!reader, established relationship.

WORD COUNT: 1945

PROMPT: person a gets into a heated argument with someone. person b starts threatening them, so person a picks up person b and carries/drags them out of the room before anyone gets hurt.

warnings: what the prompt says, lol — arguments (not between chan and reader). very very minor violence (arm grabbed), bruising, swearing. Let me know if I missed a warning.

author's note: well, baby's first post. I really hope someone likes this ? my goal is to participate in nanowrimo in my own way so expect weekly posts from yours truly. I was nervous about what to write about bc of it being my first post but I needed to write something or I'd never do it. starting with chan feels right, though I wish I can get to write more fluff soon 😭 this was fun tho! I really like protective and possessive chan&lt;3

You didn’t intend for him to hear. Mostly, because you thought you could handle things on your own, but also because you knew it would somehow end up like this.

You have been visiting the building where the boys work for as long as you remember being in their lives. It’s not your fault, given that they spend almost every waking moment there, working. And the one whose time was taken the most by it happened to be your boyfriend. It was a Saturday and he was working, which wasn’t uncommon, but it also wasn’t healthy. You let it slide sometimes, when you knew time was pressing on him and he needed to be there, for his own peace of mind. But everything was ready for the comeback, there was absolutely no reason for him to spend his weekend locked up in that so-familiar room.

So, you did the only logical thing: went there to drag him out, knowing only you where capable of doing so. No amount of puppy eyes from his kids could do what you could with just asking — you were his girlfriend, after all, it was expected that he’d have a soft spot for you.

You felt the problems creeping on you as soon as you stepped foot in the building. There were new people there, new workers. You hated when new staff started working, because they were still too nosy, and because they would ask too many question, some of which you wouldn’t be able to answer without one of the boys by your side to prove your credibility. It was okay, though, you could only imagine how many girls could go to the front desk and claim what was your truth — “I’m looking for my boyfriend”.

Luckily, the girl at the front desk, Sun Hee, already knew you. She only smiled at you when she saw you enter the building, and her tired smile should’ve been warning enough. You walked to her with a matching smile of your own, she knew you were there to pick up a overworking boyfriend, but you still needed to sign your name in the records.

“hi, lovely! what’s got you tired today?” you asked, curiosity so strong you couldn’t help asking.

“new staff’s first weekend. sometimes I wonder how they got hired in the first place”, she answers truthfully, sighing. She sends you a look you know it’s a warning — beware, idiots walking around feeling entitled!

You sigh, too. That’s going to be troublesome, especially today.

“hope I don’t get to met them today, at least until I find Chan. The boys didn’t warn me, or I would have brought one of them with me”

She showed a sympathetic smile, nodding.

“Prince charming is on studio 3, same as always”, she rolls her eyes playfully.

It says something about your overachieving boyfriend that not only the staff knows where he is all the time, but also that you have almost made friends with said staff. God, you needed to convince him to spend less time working.

After thaking Sun Hee and promising to chat more later, you walked to the elevator, setting to find Chan. You could amost picture him — black hoodie, black beanie hiding his messy curls, and headphones in. You smiled at the image in your head, a much too familiar one, one you loved so much.

Smile still present in your face, you stepped out of the elevator on the corresponding floor, checking different doors that had lights on. You were here to pick up Chan, yes, but you didn’t rule out finding Hyunjin or Felix overworking themselves too. The blondes were quick to follow their leader to the building any day, claiming they always “needed” the extra practice. Jeongin would be just as annoying as they were to you, if it wasn’t for his baby status, which meant everyone took a little more care of him (Minho more than anyone, checking that the boy didn’t overwork himself regularly).

Of course, checking every room as if you didn’t know where you were going to may have looked suspicious, you will give the man that. You were glad he was doing his job, just — well, maybe you were at the wrong place at the wrong time, or maybe he was.

“Excuse me, miss, who are you and where are you going?” He was at least 30 cm taller than you, and he was almost as buff as Changbin. You weren’t intimidated at first, you knew your presence had been cleared for, you had a right to be there, and you had got through the entrance desk, so he must know you were allowed there, right? Maybe he was just trying to help.

“Oh, hi! I’m Y/N. I’m looking for my boyfriend and checking to see if one of his friends is here as well”, you explained.

He stepped closer, almost invading your personal space. You took two steps back.

“Who are you looking for?”, he was eyeing you as if you were suspicious, a threat even. You, who was dressed in a skirt and probably looked like a mouse next to him.

“My boyfriend”, you repeated, “Christopher Bang Chan. He is in one of those studio rooms”, you added matter-of-factly.

“Ma’am, I’m going to have to escort you outside. You shouldn’t be here.” The man said, loudly, like he wanted to be heard. Ah, you thought, he is one of the new ones. It was common, you have seen it happen one too many times — new staff is always trying to prove themselves as good.

You smiled, though you were a little intimidated now. After all, you were alone in a hallway with the man who kept getting closer.

“Why is that? I am allowed here”, you tried to keep calm.

“Look, I don’t know how you passed the front desk, but fans should not be inside the building!”, the man yelled at you, his arm reaching out until he could take you by the wrist, his hold tight enough to bruise.

“Hey! You’re hurting me, stop it. Let me go!” You started struggling, trying to force your arm out of the man’s hold.

“Stop fighting or I’ll call security”, he threatened. You were about to tell him to do so, you’d wait by him until security came there and showed the man that your info was in the system and you were, actually, allowed there. You didn’t get a chance, though, for your boyfriend’s voice reached your ears as soon as the man stopped talking.

“You let her go or I’ll call security myself”, Chan’s voice showed his anger, and as he got closer you saw the determined look in his eyes that made you worry a little. You didn’t doubt Chan was capable of hitting the man if he didn’t let you go right now.

The man, apparently, didn’t notice that, for he did not let go of your wrist.

“I’m so sorry, sir, I’ll have her removed from the building immediately, I don’t know how she got inside.” He was tugging at your wrist, to which you kept quiet. If you expressed how much it hurt, the situation could escalate more than you wanted it to.

“She got inside because she’s allowed to. Now, I said: let her go.” Chan’s voice was ice cold, almost spitting the words at the man’s face. Finally, your arm was free, and you rushed to take your own wrist so as to cover the red marks, evidence of the strong hold the man had on you.

“Why doesn’t she have a pass, then?”

“She doesn’t need one because she’s not a guest. Did you even care to ask about that or check the system? You know, that type of irresponsible behaviour could get you fired — you can’t just go around the building threatening and grabbing people by force!” Chan’s voice got louder near the end.

“It’s okay”, you quipped, putting a hand in Chan’s chest as an attempt to calm him down. He was protective, you knew as much, but he was also a lovely person who you knew didn’t want to get anyone fired. Still, you knew he’d do something like that for you if you asked for it.

That was a wrong move, apparently, because it meant letting him see the marks on your arm.

“what the fuck?” his words were whispered, but it was obvious the anger that came with them. “Man, what is wrong with you? You should have checked before bruising her arm like that! What gives you the right to decide who is and isn’t allowed here?! That’s the front desk’s job, if she’s on the fucking third floor, then I think it’s fucking obvious she passed security. I need your name for I will have to file a complaint about this, grabbing someone like this is violent and no excuse of security can make it right because you are not supposed to even touch here — if you think she is not allowed here, you call security, you do not bruise my girlfriend’s arm.”

Chan’s voice is loud, and he is so close to the man you could tell it is some kind of threat, or maybe show of strenght. The man’s jaw was tense, as if he was ready to argue with the idol himself. You looked around the hallway, not knowing what to do or how to stop this. The man that had grabbed your arm clearly felt too entitled for his own good, and you worried that he might try to turn things physical.

Lucky for you, he didn’t even get a chance to answer before you heard a door open and close quickly, someone rushing out of one of the practice rooms.

You think you have never been happier of seeing the freckles in Felix’s face.

“Chan, everything okay?” sunshine boy asked, putting his arm around you as soon as he was close enough. His voice seemed to get Chan out of whatever state he was in, for he took a few steps back, still not breaking eye contact with the other man.

“Yeah, this dude just grabbed y/n’s arm and bruised her wrist because it’s apparently his first week here and he already feels too entitled.”

Felix looks at you, looking for something in your eyes, before getting closer to his friend.

“Okay, let’s go grab our things and go home to see if she needs to put some ice on her wrist”. He doesn’t let Chan answer before taking his hand with his smaller one, intertwining his fingers and almost dragging him out of there. You’re quick behind them, taking Chan’s other hand to give him some peace of mind.

Felix looks back at you and you smile in thanks. You know your boyfriend is way too protective, but a situation like this had never happened before. It’s good to know he’d do anything to defend you, but you still didn’t want him to get in a physical fight in his workplace.

“Don’t you dare think this gets any of you out of the hook for working on one of your free days, boys.” You reprimand them, hands still intertwined while entering the studio. Chan’s calmer now, his cheeks blushed with what you guess is something akin to embarrassement; you know he doesn’t like getting like this, but sometimes his emotions overpower him. You kiss his cheek, deciding to not comment on the subject until he does so himself. After all, you achieved what you came here to do — collect whichever stray kid had wandered their way to work on a weekend and get them home.

[hughiecampbelle]

The Boys Preference: Being Becca and Butchers Child

Requested: Firstly HAPPY BIRTHDAY GIRL!!!!!! ﾟ+.ヽ(≧▽≦)ﾉ.+ﾟ. Secondly, could u write like some headcanon about being Butcher's child (like who is two years older than Ryan) and how other members from the boys (+ maybe Soldier boy, cause of season 3 and how he would interact with them :3) - anon

A/N: Thank you my love!!! In the headcanon I made reader 10+ years older so they'd be at least 18 by the time they found out about Becca and Ryan, I hope you don't mind!! That way they can be part of The Boys and grow up with them, if that makes sense? I also had a very similar request of a headcanon so I'm basing it off that so there's some background :) I love this request!!! Feedback is always appreciated 💜💜💜

Headcanon Pt. 1 / Headcanon Pt. 2

Butcher knew he couldn't take care of you. He was getting drunk every night, picking fights at bars, searching the city for your mom. Your perfect grades were slipping, you were getting into fights at school, you were emulating him. He knew how dangerous that was. First with your Aunt, then your Great Aunt, until you tracked him down all these years later. He still has a picture of you in his wallet, a baby picture that's creased and faded. You and Becca. You've grown up since then, though. And you're angry. He insist you go back to Judy, pretend you never saw or heard what you did, but you refuse. You want to pick a fight with him. You want to yell and scream and get out eight years worth of grief. He understands where you're coming from, he does. He never wanted to be like his father and yet, in so many ways, that's exactly who he was. Your relationship will never be what it is. That's not possible anymore. You have to learn to deal with one another now, in the present, instead of the happy kid you used to be, instead of the dad he used to be. It hurts you both to think about the past, who you could have been instead of who you are.

Hughie isn't really sure what to do with you. There's no doubt you're Butcher's kid. He's still relatively new to the team, so he just assumed this was something else Butcher hadn't shared with him. When he realizes no one knew about your existence, he's shocked. You, like your father, gravitate towards Hughie for reasons you can't put into words. You'll let him sit next to you when you're watching TV and maybe even talk to him if you're in the right mood. You don't shoot daggers at him like you try with everyone else. Similar to a cat, he's someone you can stand to be around. He comes to your defense a lot, especially when you stumble in drunk and pass out for the day. He's sure if any of them had been raised by Butcher, or at least the outside relatives, they would have turned out exactly like you. He can't blame you for being angry, or pissed, or hurt. He can see the hurt better than anyone else no matter how much you try to hide it. He thinks you just need some time and empathy to get straightened out. The least they can do is offer that, right?

Annie has no idea what to do with you. She tried smiling and talking to you, but you didn't want anything to do with her. She reminds you too much of your Aunt. She always said you should be happier, bubblier, that you were so smiley as a kid. You couldn't live in the past like her, with her. Too much had changed. Hughie assures her it's nothing against her, you're just getting used to things. She thinks it's sweet how you're attracted to Hughie. He's the only one you mildly respect and even, once in a blue moon, listens to. She doesn't take it too personally considering you're ready to rip your fathers head off. It could be a lot worse. Over time you see that Annie and Hughie are together and that definitely earns her some points. Annie can't imagine what your life must have looked like, all those years mourning your mother and father, all those years spent with relatives just doing their best. She understood why you were so angry all the time, so cagey and spiky. She doesn't hold it against you.

M.M. feels conflicted. Betrayed isn't the right word, but it's the closest thing he can come up with. He never 100% trusted Butcher. He was always going behind everyone's backs, doing what he wanted despite the good of the team, etc. He was destructive, combative, and spiteful. But, he thought they knew each other better than that. When he met you he couldn't deny you were Butcher's. Your mannerisms, the crazed look in your eye when you were upset, it all matched your father. He can't help but see you like how he sees Janine, even if you're much older: a victim of Vought. A generational curse. You're stubborn, and angry, and distant all because of what's been done to you, all because of Homelander. If your mom had been around, if Homelander had never done what he'd done, you'd still have your perfect family. He feels this need to protect you the same way he does with your father, even if you both fight him on it, even if you don't want or deserve it. He can't help it.

Frenchie doesn't trust you the same way he doesn't trust your father. He especially doesn't like that you and Kimiko are so close. She doesn't tell him anything about your conversations, knowing it would completely break your trust if she did. He believes Butcher would hide something as big and important as a child. He knows what your family can be like. Lying, drunken, selfish, vengeful. You're only a few of those things, not that he can tell the difference. You know Frenchie isn't your biggest fan, so you love messing with him, teasing him, rubbing it in his face that you and Kimiko are close. Similar to your father, Frenchie thinks this isn't the kind of place for you. You have no idea what you're getting yourself into. M.M. might feel fatherly towards you, but Frenchie sees you as a Mini Butcher, just another handful no one on the team can deal with. You yell and scream and fight and drink. That proves to him you're still a child despite it all.

Kimiko adores you. Despite the difference in circumstances, she sees a lot of herself in you. Ripped from your family, angry and hostile and doing everything in your power not to get hurt again. Besides Hughie, you'd warm up to her second. You're actually incredibly smart despite never applying yourself and pick up the signs pretty quickly. Whatever you can't sign, you write to her, wanting your conversations to stay secret. You show her the pictures of your mom that you kept all these years, telling her all about the good times you had before she disappeared. When you see Butcher you instantly grow hostile, angry all over again, and the person she saw, the person she was just talking to who was kind, and thoughtful, and smart totally disappears. When you blast your angry music she never minds. In fact, she quite likes it, adding it to her own playlist. She doesn't look at you like you need fixing or, worse, need to get out of here.

Bonus! Homelander always knew about you. Becca was more than willing to talk about you and Billy to co-workers. He even remembers taking that picture with you that one Christmas. He's kept an eye on you through the years, but you never seemed like the vengeful type. You never knew what happened after your father abandoned you. He does, however, use it as leverage against Becca. Remember the kid you left behind? Seems like she's got favorites. Becca agonizes over leaving you, but she was caught between a rock and a hard place. He uses you to keep her there, in her place. He gives her updates, usually to make her feel bad. You're kid drinks way too much, did you know that? Of course you didn't. He loves to tell her that Butcher abandoned you all those years ago. He loves to see that it absolutely kills her. He's not worried about you coming after him. You've got to work through your issues before you get to him and therapy for a lifetime couldn't get you an Butcher on the same page.

Bonus! Soldier Boy would actually get along with you. I think you'd have a Worst Dad Competition and though you're close, you definitely think you win. You two share a drink and you tell him all about your dear old dad. "No wonder you turned out like this." Ben says, pouring you more. Hughie urges you to slow down, but you have a high tolerance. Ben, to piss of Butcher, will always take your side in arguments and uses what you told him against him. "You dumped them off and never looked back. Now you're parenting?" Butcher absolutely hates it. You tell him about your mom, how much she loved you, how she was killed. You don't mention Ryan though, knowing Ben's go to answer would be to seek revenge. You have a lot of complicated feelings around your brother, but you still have a burning Hatred for Homelander. You make Ben promise he'll kill him. He does, even if it means killing his son. You two bond really fast. Neither Hughie nor Butcher trusts it or him, but you do.

[sports-on-sundays]

people change / CL16 / Part 1

Summary: dad!Charles x French!ex!reader - You wish you could just forget about the relationship. It's hard when you had a son together.

Warnings: 'Y/s/n' means 'your son's name', you are free to imagine the son as whatever age he acts because I leave that unspecified, mention of breaking up/divorce, broken family, censored cussing, getting drunk, toxic relationship, me sucking at writing kids (how do they even act???)

Requested?: No.

Author's Note: This was heavily inspired by the song People Change by for KING & COUNTRY at the end there especially. I listened to it while writing. So you're free to look that up and have a listen. Link to part 2 / Link to part 3

"Hey, sweetie," you say as you buckle your son into the car. "How was your day at school?"

"Fun... But Mama, I didn't know what to do."

"Hm? When didn't you know what to, love?" you ask, concerned.

"Well, we did papers and pictures about our mommies and daddies and our houses and stuff and I didn't know, Mama..."

You stop after he says this, pulling your hands away as they tremble. Your heart, at those words from your son, feels like it's being wrenched out of your chest, and you cough into your arm. "O- Oh, sweetheart..." you clear your throat. "Well, why don't you first draw pictures and write about me and my house, and then you write and draw about your daddy and his house..."

Your son does a pouting face at this. "Mama..." he complains. "Why can't you and Daddy be like other kids' mommies and daddies?"

"Love, I don't think this is the time to be talking about this. Let's just get driving home now." You hate to shut him down, but he's asking too many questions that you just can't answer.

He's asking too many questions that are making you feel too confused and guilty.

"Hey, buddy. What's up?" you smile as you get out of the car to help your son pack his bags into the trunk, and then get in the backseat. You're doing this right outside Charles' house. You're picking him up from his weekend with his dad.

The little boy shrugs as you buckle him in. "I want my grey bag, Mama! Daddy gave me some food for the ride."

"What do you say?"

"Please!" he pouts.

You nod, and give him his bag. Charles is always sure to equip Y/s/n with a bagful of healthy snacks for the hour and forty-five minute drive back home.

The whole ride, Y/s/n is unusually quiet. Even when you try talking to him, he gives short answers and makes no effort to continue the conversation. Which is very unusual from the usually frisky and excitable little boy.

When you get home and go inside, he immediately goes to his room, still not saying anything.

You sigh, feeling worried.

Did...

Did Charles do something?

Even though the two of you separated for big reasons, you've never felt too worried about Y/s/n going to see him every other weekend, except for maybe at the beginning. Over the years, you're pretty sure that Charles has gotten more responsible than how he once was.

"Dinnertime, love!"

Silence.

"Love?"

"I'm not hungry!"

You sigh, the worry sinking deeper. "You should have saved some of your dad's snack for later, then! I made dinner for you!"

Silence. Again.

You walk down the hall and knock on his bedroom door, before gently pushing it open. The little boy is sitting on his red bed. In his hand is his Ferrari hat. He's blankly staring at it.

Oh God no. What did Charles do? What did Charles say? Doesn't he understand the unspoken boundaries about this?

"Y/s/n?" you say gently, sitting down next to him. "What's wrong, sweetie? You know you can tell me. I'm listening."

The boy looks older than he is right now. You feel a sharp pang in your chest as he murmurs, "Why do you and daddy live in different countries? How come I have two houses, two bedrooms... two everything? How come, Mama?"

It takes all you have to not tear up. You wrap your arms tightly around him at this. He leans against you, hugging you back.

"Andre and Alex have a mommy and daddy who live in the same house. How come you and Daddy don't?"

"Y/s/n, it's really complicated, love. But, can I ask... What has got you thinking of all of this, love? What has got this on your mind?" You speak in a very gentle tone, rubbing his back. Obviously, this is upsetting him. Really, though, what kid wouldn't be upset?

Your son looks at you in hesitation. "I'm not allowed to say..."

You feel another pang of worry. "Love, it's okay. You can tell your mama anything."

"But Daddy told me not to."

You swallow nervously. "You're not doing anything wrong by telling me. I'm giving you permission. I can't have you feeling this upset, love. You can tell me anything that's bothering you, even if your father told you not to." Y/s/n is too much of a good kid. You don't know where he gets it from.

You wipe your son's watering eyes, trying to reassure him. He sniffs, before saying, "You won't tell Daddy?"

"Tell Daddy what?"

"What I'm gonna tell you."

You bite your lip. "Of course not, love. I won't tell your daddy."

He nods, before saying, as he starts to really cry, "Daddy cried, Mommy... I wasn't allowed to know but I couldn't sleep because Daddy forgot to read me my story. So I was going in to tell him to snuggle me... because I couldn't sleep. But Daddy was crying..." Y/s/n sniffs, and continues blubbering, "Daddy was talking to someone on the phone and he was really sad... I don't know why Daddy was crying, Mama. He said he was sad because he missed you and me to the person on the phone. Daddy was so sad so I don't know why we don't make Daddy happy and why can't my mommy and daddy be like my friends' mommies and daddies?" He lets out a sob, snuggling into you. You're speechless as your son continues, "I went and gave Daddy a hug because he was sad. He said he missed you. He asked me why I was up and said I was in trouble and said I wasn't allowed to tell you he was sad and crying. He said even daddies cry sometimes," he sniffs and lets out another sob. You hold him tight, eyes wide. "I asked him how come he was sad and he said he didn't know and he loved me and then we went to bed. I don't get it, Mama."

You try not to tremble.

Fighting off tears, because the last thing Y/s/n needs is to see his mom cry on top of it all. Not sad tears, though. Angry tears.

Why can't Charles just let go? He's so possessive and obsessive. F*ck him and his Monaco flat and his boat and his Ferrari and everything f*cking else. Why would he let his son see him so vulnerable. Doesn't he care? F*ck him.

Why can't he just let go?

You walk down the hall of the mall, your son's little hand in yours, heading to the food court because eventually, Y/s/n's complaining about how 'I'm hungryyyyy!' got too annoying, and you gave in.

Suddenly, though, his little hand slips out of yours. You look down at him in confusion, starting to say his name. He starts running away. You're about to go after him, but suddenly freeze when the little boy shouts, "Look, Mama, look! It's Daddy! Daddy! Hi, Daddy! Hiiiii!"

And sure enough, Charles Leclerc stops as soon as he sees his son, a grin spreading across his face. He adjusted his cap to be lower on his forehead, clearly trying to go incognito here. But he bends down, and the moment little Y/s/n reaches Charles, his father scoops him up into his arms, standing up with an, "Auwgh," noise, as if it were really hard for the strong man to pick up his light son. Charles holds him tight, in an embrace, before saying, "What's up, buddy? Where's your mama?" Y/s/n points, and Charles looks up.

Your eyes meet. And everything stops. The voices, the music, the whir of the escalators, the lights, heating, and air conditioning all making their own sounds, the people walking past- everyone else living their own lives disappear.

And it's just you and Charles, eyes locked, staring at each other.

Heartbeats or seconds or minutes, you don't know. You feel a certain electricity that hurts. Shocks you. Maybe Charles likes how it feels though. Maybe he loves that, with his adrenaline seeking lifestyle. Because, after all, he doesn't look away.

But in the same way, you don't either.

Finally, it's your son that breaks the trance you seemed to go into with your ex-husband, by saying suddenly words that stress you out and tear you apart at the same time: "See, Daddy?" He pats his father's cheek, which has a little bit of facial hair. "You don't have to cry anymore... You don't..." Suddenly, he looks a little scared, realizing he wasn't supposed to say that, but finishes softly with, "You don't have to miss Mama anymore, Daddy, because she's right here..."

There's almost a pleading in your son's eyes. A longing. You feel yourself start to tear up, but you strive to hold them back. Y/s/n. He loves us. He loves his parents so much. He just wishes they would love each other.

Charles shakes his head in surprise, stroking Y/s/n's hair, "Buddy, it's okay. Don't worry. I'm okay. I don't-" he falters for just a moment before finishing quickly, glancing to you nervously, "I don't miss Mama anymore. Don't worry."

"But I miss Mama." At this, both of you look at your son in confusion.

"But Y/s/n, Mama is right here," Charles says carefully, taking more steps closer to you. "See? Do you want to go with M-"

"No!" your son suddenly snaps, and says as if it is the most obviously thing on earth, "When I'm with Daddy, I miss Mama. When I'm with Mama, I miss Daddy. I don't wanna miss you guys!"

All the sudden, it's too much for you. All of it. Before Charles can do anything else you say quickly, your voice obviously cracking and your breath shaky, "Charles, can you take him home today? I'm sorry-"

"Of course, Y/n. I-"

You turns, jogging away. You need to get out of there.

But as you run out, you hear Charles call after you, "Y/n! Y/n, wait! Y/n, we're going to talk on the phone tonight, okay? There's things we still need to go over!"

At around 3:00 A.M., Charles calls. While you're worried to answer, you're also relieved. The fact that you're still awake at 3:00 A.M. shows how much anxiety you've been feeling about getting this call from Charles.

When you pick up, you murmur softly, "Hey, Charles."

"Sorry I'm calling at this hour. God. I just had to make sure Y/s/n was sound asleep. I'm, uhm," he pauses to clear his throat awkwardly, and continues in a softer, more delicate voice, "I'm sure Y/s/n told you about the phone call the other weekend..."

"Y- Yeah, he did. What did you do? Did you scare him into not telling me? He was crying," you say, your voice becoming harder and harder as you speak.

"What?! No! I just asked him please not to tell you. That was it. Maybe he was crying because..." Charles trails off.

"Because why?" you snap, although the sinking feeling within tells you exactly why.

"Y/n..." he sighs loudly. "Because our son loves us and doesn't get why... w- we... don't- don't, uhm.... love each other." The facts that he falters so much on that last phrase, that it's so hard for him to get out, sends a pit in your stomach. Of dread, and anger.

And without another hesitation, you just say it. "Charles... you still love me, don't you?"

There's silence over the phone. Sickly, disgusting, terrible silence. The anger rises up in you higher and higher, like a pressure, trying to push you on your tipping point. So finally you snap, probably way too loud, "Charles, what the hell! F*ck you. I hate you, you f*cking asshole. You're too much of a f*cking coward to even say it! Just like you've always been!" Your voice gets louder and louder. "Just like you've always been! Too much of a f*cking coward to admit anything! You tricked me! You had me thinking everything was peaches and cream, but it wasn't! You were being a terrible person and played innocent, and whenever I asked you anything, you did the same exact thing you still do. You just keep silent. Charles, I know you'll never grow, I hate that my son has to see your sorry ass every other weekend, and if I knew it wouldn't break his sweet little heart, I would wish your pathetic silent self would just fall off the face of the earth so I didn't have to ever have to listen to your stupid, pathetic silence ever again."

"Y/n, I-" You hang up. Charles doesn't try to call back.

Years ago.

Charles came in and stumbled into your arms, as if you were the one that needed to take care of him. You were tired, having stayed up with your fussy baby boy nearly all night, with no help, and you wanted to cry. You didn't want Charles to stumble in, drunk, right into your arms, as if he was the one who needed help. No. He was the one causing the problem. He had reeked of alcohol. He didn't get drunk this often, and you knew exactly why he was doing it now, although he'd been too scared while sober to admit it to you. It was the argument you'd had, and his way of coping was going out, getting drunk, and coming home to his wife and baby at three in the morning, wasted. Now, while drunk out of his mind, he was able to murmur, his words slurred tremendously, "Y/n... I'm sorry, love... You should've come with me tonight. I had fun... We could... make up for that argument..." He had a sickly seductive tone in his voice.

You felt rage fill up in you. Did you forget about your son? The son that you and I created together? Did you forget about that? Instead of letting any of that rage escape you, you just brought him to the bedroom and helped him into bed. You left him, walked to the living room, sat down on the couch, and held your aching, tired head, pulling at your hair, as tears escaped your closed eyelids.

Your world was spinning. Everything was wrong.

The argument. You had started it. And yelled at him. About how he was a coward and never told the truth. Even though you loved him. You thought. You must've. You... You had a son together. You yelled at him for telling you he was working when he wasn't. You yelled at him that he wasn't helping you at all and that you were going out of your mind. You said you felt like a single mom because he was never around, never helped, and never tried to. He lied and told you that an event he had mentioned that you were excited for was cancelled because he had found out more things about the event that he didn't want to deal with himself. He was becoming more and more selfish, showing who he really was more and more every single day. It just made you think- what is he doing when he gets drunk? What else is he being dishonest about?

Eventually you stopped loving him. You loved your son much more, so you broke it off. The final tipping point was when you suspected he had cheated, although nothing had ever proved that. But that was when you finally broke it off.

He was heartbroken. He held onto you. No, Y/n, please don't do this. I'll try better. I'll try better. You had told him that he had been saying he'd try better for the past year.

He had cried. Maybe even sobbed. You only saw him sob twice. Once was one time when he was drunk out of his mind, and the other one was that night when you told him you were breaking it off. I guess Y/s/n has seen him sob a third time, though.

He had said to you that he still loved you. You had said if you loved me, you wouldn't have done this. And that was the end of it.

Or so you thought.

You can't believe you're here. You can't believe he convinced you. You set up for your mother to watch Y/s/n while you drive into Monaco and.

Well, yeah. Go to Charles' God-forsaken house. To meet with him. 'Have a talk' as he put it. 'In real life.' So he can 'see your face and expressions.' And 'understand better.'

Charles opens the door. He's wearing a black t-shirt, grey jeans, and has his usual assortment of different bracelets on his wrists. And a disgustingly expensive watch. As you walk into his (beautiful) flat, you see that it hasn't changed much since you left and moved a couple hours closer to home, back in France. Just a little cleaner. But just like how it was when you lived here, there's still a stray toy on the floor here and there. As if reading your mind, he bends down, picking up a few of them, before putting them in a basket in the corner of the room. He runs his hand through his messy, wavy brown hair, looking a little awkward. "Why don't you sit down?" he asks softly, gesturing to the couch by a nod of his head. "Make yourself... comfortable... Uh... I made some cookies. Consider it a peace offering. And I... I really tried to make them good, too. I'm just going to go grab them." And before you can think or react, he's walking out of the room to grab them.

When he returns with the cookies, he sits down next to you, holding the little plate out to you. You hesitantly take one, nibbling off a little bite, nervously glancing to Charles. "It's fine..." you say. In your taste, too sweet (and slightly gooey) but besides that, alright. "But I just want to get this over with, okay? Charles can we just... have this talk? So I can go?"

Your ex husband stared down, before nodding slowly. "Yeah... Of course." He falters, before murmuring, "I love our son just as much as you do. And it hurts me to see him-"

"My God, Charles, shut up. I know what this is about. It's about you being selfish," the bitterness in your voice surprised even yourself, "You're being selfish because for some twisted reason, you still want to be with me, and you're using my son's pain as an excuse. You're just as you've always been- selfish, lying, and making excuses."

"Y/n, no it's not!" he snaps, his eyes pleading. "I- I- I want the best for our son."

"Charles, do you still love me?"

He stares at you. Hesitates. Falters. He inhales a shaky breath, before looking down at his hands in his lap. "All these years I've never dated another woman. All these years the guilt has crushed me."

"Shut up!" you spit. "It's not guilt, Charles, of hurting me your or son. It's guilt because you wouldn't wanted to be with me longer. It's selfish. You're f*cking selfish!"

He practically begs, "Please, babe, just listen-"

"What did you just call me?"

He stares in surprise at what he just said. He swallows. "I'm sorry- It- It just came out..."

You glare, and shout, "You still love me, you dick! I hate you! You- You cheated on me!"

He cuts you off by grabbing your arm suddenly. There's a desperate look in his eyes. "Y/n... No, I didn't... I swear it on my life.. On my job, on everything I love... I would..." You're shocked to watch as a singular tear gently rolls down one of his cheeks. He's holding back more. The salty, warm tear drops right onto your palm. You wipe it off. Charles eyes plead with you as he murmurs, his voice cracking, "I would never cheat on you..."

You stare, trying to form more words, not knowing what to say.

But Charles continues, "I don't know where you got the idea I cheated on you... I know it was hard and I was being..." Suddenly there is guilt and grief openly painted all across his face. "I was being a terrible person... Giving up the most lovely, sweet wife and baby I could've ever asked for... I was young and stupid, Y/n...Y/n... I'm sorry... I'm sorry... I swear I mean it...

"I would do anything for this to work."

Another tear falls.

"Y/n... just listen... I need you to hear me out..."

He sniffs. He seems so broken. Vulnerable. Honest.

"It's all my fault, Y/n. I know. I know. I'm sorry. And I get if you're afraid... I would be, too... but, Y/n... I wish you could just understand that... that...

"Y/n, people change."

Author's Note- Just wanted to say if you guys liked this and want a part two, I'm totally open to writing that! Let me know if you want a part two, and if you have any ideas, shoot! Like should I end this happy? Or not...? And in what way? If no one gives me ideas, I'll just come up with it, but you guys are extremely welcome to let me know!!! Thank you! <3

[rlimagi]

Eyes

Pairing: Uma x Reader

Request: Hi !! Can I please have a fluff Uma x reader fic ? Reader is Uma’s longtime girlfriend 💙 I’m so excited there’s an account for descendants fem x reader !!!!! I’m so excited to read your writing !!

Genre: Fluff

Warnings: I don’t think there’s any.

Note: I started writing this since a few days ago but I kept rewriting it because I didn’t feel satisfied with the ending. So this might have a part 2 if my brain wants to work with me again.

You were Mal’s twin sister, which meant you had the utmost unfortunate experience of having Maleficent as your mother. You never experienced the motherly love you’ve always craved for, so you didn’t know what love felt like until you met her.

At a very young age, you found your love in books. Fairytales about princesses and magic were your favorites because they’ll always end up living happily ever after, and you wanted that so badly. But your love for what many other kids claimed, ‘nerdy’ became the reason you would always find comfort alone in your room instead of doing things a villain should do. Which meant you were a total loner.

You were a disappointment to your mother and as for your twin, you guys had always been close, though being polar opposites. Mal and Jay were the only friends you had and it stayed that way for years until one night.

You had just returned your books back to the library, if you could even call it that, the area was dark and you couldn’t see the paths clearly so you stumbled on an unfamiliar alley.

It was full of older kids, most of the kids on the isles were trouble makers but the kids there were the oldest of the bunch and the worst of them all.

“Hey! Isn’t that Maleficent’s kid?” An older boy shouted out, walking towards you as his gang backed him up. Those kids were pirates, you weren’t sure how that worked out since the isles had no open water for them to sail and rob other ships, but you weren’t going to question them.

It was ironic that you’re the daughter of one of the most evil villian, yet you could barely make eye contact with people who aren’t your sister or Jay, nor fight.

“Shouldn’t she have purple hair, like her sister? Why is it blue?” An older girl spoke up this time but she was as scary as the rest of them. You stood still as she took a few strands of your hair and examined them.

“What should we do with her? Do you reckon it’ll be a good idea if we kidnap her and ask for ransom money?” Another boy smirked, his crooked teeth showed as he cracked into laughters like the rest of his crew.

You were terrified for your life as the rest of them surrounded you but then a voice called out.

“How about you leave her alone, Henry?”

You turned around to see a girl your age but her eyes showed no fear, only confidence and dominance.

“Uma, you’re no fun. Imagine all the money we’ll get from her mom and don’t you hate her sister?” The boy she called Henry shook his head as he placed his dirty hand on your hair and messed it all up.

“Hands off or I’ll tell my mom that you’re the one who broke all her tables last week.” The pretty girl clapped back as she glared at the older boy.

Henry sighed in annoyance before gesturing to the rest of his crew to follow him out. “You’re lucky Ursula’s your mother.”

Your eyes followed as you watched them kicked everything in their way, probably out of annoyance that they got dominated by a kid 3 years younger than they were.

“Thank you.” You muttered, face reddening up when she smiled and nodded. You’ve never seen such a beauty like her before, not like you’ve met a lot of girls.

“No problem, they were annoying me all week anyways…but hey, what’s your name? I’ve never seen you around here before.” Uma smiled, her eyes were dark yet it was so sparkly for some reason.

“Oh I’m-“ You were about to introduce yourself when your sister and Jay, came out of nowhere.

“Yn! We were looking for you everywhere, where have you b-“ Mal rushed to your side, face filled with worries but she abruptly stopped mid sentence when she looked at the girl standing beside you. “Oh it’s you. Hey Shrimpy~”

Your eyes widened up in shock at your sister’s reaction to Uma. You knew your sister was a bully in a way, to other kids but it was just shocking to see her like that with your own eyes. Especially to the girl who had just saved you only a few minutes prior.

“Why are you here with her sis? You’re going to turn into a shrimp if you stand too close to her.” Mal’s grimace turned into a smirk as she pulled you away from where you were.

Uma’s smile turned sour almost immediately after Mal and Jay came. Without saying anything, she gave them both a nasty glare before running away.

“That’s so not cool, Mal.” You pushed your sister away before heading home on your own, ignoring the shouts from behind.

After that night, you secretly went out late at night looking for her. You didn’t want to look for her when the sun is bright because your sister or Jay might find out. Eventually, you found her sitting alone on a dock.

That night, you gave her the biggest apology for your sister’s behavior and asked her to be friends. Luckily, she didn’t have anything against you and agreed.

That was the day your love story started to blossom. After a year of secretly being friends, Uma she asked you to be her girlfriend and of course you agreed.

But fate separated you both after the 3rd year of your relationship, because you were invited to Auradon. You were ecstatic since all your life you’ve always dreamed of getting out of the isles, and you might have a chance of having a happily ever after like those fairytales you’ve enjoyed so much. But will you actually ever find one if your lover won’t be there with you?

When you told Uma that you won’t be going if it meant that you’ll never see her again, she got upset that you’re throwing away your dream, just for her. She didn’t want you to sacrifice your happiness like that, so ultimately you agreed but with a promise that you’ll try everything in your power to see her again.

Your life on Auradon was great, the people were nice, the food was spectacular, and it was a breath of fresh air and eventually you started to forget the life you left behind.

“Yn, can we talk?” Your older sister rushed to your side as you were lying against a big oak tree, trying to read a book.

There were a few decent books back in the isles but it couldn’t compare to the ones Auradon had. After arriving at Auradon Prep, you’ve gain a lot of friends but got close to Jane the fastest after she discovered your love for books and introduced you to a few of her favorites.

“Oh, sure! What’s up?” You smiled before patting on the grass next to you, gesturing her to sit there. Pulling your attention away from the book, you noticed Mal’s sullen expression and you knew all too well what it meant. “Spill.”

Mal sighed before the look on her face turned on into a slight frown. “I’ve just had a disagreement with the other VKs and Ben. They just don’t get me. And I tried to find you first but I swear you’re everywhere yet nowhere at the same time.”

You chuckled, patting her shoulder before asking. “You know I can’t stay still. Well then, what did you talk to them about? It can’t be that bad right?”

“No, but it’s just…” Mal stopped for a moment while her eyes drifted off to the distance, to where the isles were.

“Okay, I think I get what you’re thinking of. You want to head back and they don’t?” Mal was a hard person to read, but luckily you were her twin who could read her like an open book. Even without the spells.

“Yes! I just miss being…bad, no rules, no people throwing microphones into your face and asking invasive questions. I just miss being me, you get it right?” Of course you understood her, you could see it from miles away.

You saw how she had been dealing with her new title as Ben’s girlfriend and soon the future Queen of Auradon. It was a lot of responsibility being thrown on her, you knew she would break soon enough.

“I get it, I do miss beating up nasty old men, stealing candies, and...” the thoughts of your girlfriend flooded all over your head. “Her…” you whispered.

“And?” Mal looked at you, confused. You’ve never told any one of your friends, even Mal about the relationship between you and Uma. Mal hated Uma and the feelings were mutual with Uma, they hated each other’s guts and honesty it was hard hiding the fact that you were dating the girl your sister used to bully.

You blinked, getting caught off guard before faking a cough. “Umm, nothing!”

Mal nodded but you knew she was still a bit suspicious but chose to let it go anyways. “I think, I’m going to go back.” Mal claimed confidently as she abruptly stood up. Not even a second later, she looked at you back with vulnerable eyes. “Should I? I don’t think I’ll be coming back and I don’t want to leave if you’re all going to be mad at me for doing so. Especially you, you’re my twin and your words means the most to me.”

You sighed, following her action. “Mal, .you’re my sister and as your sister, I say you should do whatever the hell you want. No matter what, and no matter what we will always be sisters.” you wrapped your arms around her shoulders. “You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“Thanks, I really needed that. Do you want to come with me, maybe?” Mal chuckled before punching you jokingly.

Your breath hitched, immediately thinking of Uma. You did promise that you’ll find a way to see her again.

“Thanks Mal, but I do need to return these books back to Jane first. You go a head and I’ll find you there after I’m done.” You smiled before pointing to the piles of books that laid next to you. “I’ll know where to find you.”

“Got it.” Mal nodded. “Talk to the others for me okay? They don’t know I’m leaving, at least not yet.”

“Of course, you can always count on me.”

When you arrived at your shared dorm with Evie and Mal, a freaked out Evie rushed to your side. “Yn! There you are!” She exclaimed, pulling you inside before handing over a note. “Did you know about this?”

You looked at Mal’s goodbye note before looking back at your best friend. “Of course, she talked to me right before she left.”

“And you didn’t stop her?!” Evie gasped, pulling you to sit down on your bed.

“Nope.” You replied casually before popping a few gummies into your mouth. Your table always had sweets in stock for you to munch on. You’ve never had any sugar before but after arriving at Auradon, you’ve never gone a day without them.

“I’m planning to go too, now if you’ll excuse me.” you muttered before walking past Evie to grab a notebook which you had written down all the useful spells on. Honestly, you were cursing yourself for not thinking of a way to meet her until now.

“Wait what?” Evie asked in shock before blocking your way as you were about to head out. “Well you can’t leave, not alone anyways. We need to tell Ben about this, he’ll know how to get her back.” Evie said before pulling you with her.

“Slow down Evie! She’s just giving little old home a visit and if she decides to stay there then, well we can’t do much about it!” Your voice echoed across the halls but went unheard as Evie dragged you into Ben’s office.

The next thing you know, you were pulled into the Limo with Carlos and Jay sitting beside you. The ride to the isles wasn’t too long, but you were nervous extremely nervous yet excited at the same time. You haven’t seen her in 6 months, what if she found someone else while you’re away?

Your worries never washed away, even when you bumped into Gil after landing. He was the only person in the world who knows about your relationship with Uma. How he knew didn’t happen on person.

During your second year anniversary, you and Uma had sneaked out to go on a date late at night on top of the roof of your school’s building. It was sweet and romantic but then Gil for some odd reason was there and walked in on you two making out. He swore not to tell anyone and luckily he kept his words.

“Ben, before you go in and talk to her…you need to prepare yourself for the worse outcome, alright?” You called out to Ben right before he walked up the stairs. He frowned slightly but nodded anyways.

“This is what Mal needs, no offense you’re great and I love you for her but sometimes she just needs to get back to figure things out with this side of hers…alright you can go now I won’t stall any longer.” You patted his shoulder before pushing him slightly.

“Thanks Yn, and don’t worry. Whatever Mal decides, I’ll respect it.” Ben said before rushing up the flights of stairs.

You nodded and looked back at your other best friends who all shared the same nervous looks. Not too long after, Ben came down looking devastated and ran off into the darkness. You knew that he would get lost being all by himself so you left the VKs and followed after him.

“Ben?” You called out but got left with no response, you swore he was just there a minute ago. “Ben, buddy. Is that you?” You asked once you saw a figure walking up to you.

The alleyway was dark since there were barely any light source so it was hard to identify who it was. Not too long after, you found yourself losing consciousness.

You woke up to the sound of people yelling and running around your surroundings. “Hey, Yn! Wake up!” you felt a hand nudged yours and suddenly you were finally aware of where you were. Uma’s territory.

“Ben!? Is that you? Why am I tied up? Why are we tied up? What the hell is going on?” You whispered back, squirming as you tried your hardest to get the ropes to loosen up. Of course it didn’t but it was worth a try.

“I talked to Uma who’s like the captain here, I really messed up by forgetting about the other kids who didn’t get picked” Ben replied, deeply regretful for forgetting his main goal for the future of Auradon and the kids who were punished because of the faults of their parents. “It was my goal to bring every kid to Auradon. But then I got so busy with being a King that I had forgotten about all the innocent lives out here.”

“Wait Uma was here? Never mind, don’t blame yourself. You are an amazing person and King, we’re all forever grateful that you gave us a chance to figure out who we are. And it wasn’t your fault for forgetting, you’re still a kid who became King and suddenly got handled all the responsibilities.” You had always thought of Ben like a brother and he was amazing.

Ben was different than all the other royals, he didn’t have to care but he did by bringing 5 villian kids to Auradon and giving them a chance.

Everyone was outraged, but Ben didn’t care. He wanted change, and it’s starting to happen slowly but surely. “You can always make your goal happen, it’s never too late for anything.”

“I promise the first thing I’ll do when we get back to Auradon is find a way to get more kids out of here.” Ben said in determination. After exploring the island for a while, he could see how terrible the conditions were.

“I know you will.” you replied before everything went quiet. All the pirates stopped at their places and you could hear someone untying Ben and before you knew it, Harry walked past you with Ben being pushed towards the plank.

“Boo!” Someone whispered in your ear, scaring the living soul out of you. Then you heard a laugh, the voice of the only person you’ve ever loved. Uma.

“Hey baby, did you miss me?” Uma smirked as she moved to stand right in from of you. Her hand held up next to your face as she teasingly pinched your cheek. She had always adored the way your cheeks reddened up whenever she did that.

“Do I?” You teased back, enjoying how she acted annoyed whenever you played with her but you knew that she secretly loved it. “Kidding, of course I do! Now can you please untie me?”

“I kind of like it when you’re tied up though, that way you can’t go anywhere else.” Uma replied back jokingly but you could see it in her eyes that there was some truth in that. Ever since you guys became a couple, you had never gone a day without seeing each other at least once. And ever since you got sent to Auradon, you have been apart for longer than 6 months.

“Uma, I really wish I could bring you to Auradon with me.” You said sincerely as she untied you from the pole.

Uma stopped for a moment, looking at you with a smile before leaning in. Her hands trialed from your neck to your face before pulling you in for a much needed kiss. Even after kissing her so many times, the same spark and fluttery feeing from the first one will always reappear.

The way she looked at you, the way she touched your lips, the way it made you feel like you were floating, it was everything. She was everything.

“I know, but don’t worry. You’ll be able to bring me with you after Mal gives me the fairy godmother’s wand.”

You looked at her in confusion. Uma and Mal were clearly not on good terms so why would your sister willingly do that. “What are you saying?”

Your question was left unanswered as Uma broke eye contact, her smile turning into a mischievous grin after seeing visitors stepping in her territory.

You were confused by her sudden change of demeanor before looking the same way she was heading to, Mal and your friends were there.

You knew that it would not end well, at all.

[littleroaes]

To All The Boys I’ve Loved Before, tbz

PAIRING ⏵ ( 2nd pov, you ) fem!reader x lee hyunjae, lee juyeon, ji changmin, kim sunwoo, eric sohn

at the last two weeks before the semester; your younger brother leaked your old love letters. when you return to university, you work as a part time assistant for the hockey team. the charming crush of your youth has read your letter and makes a deal to not spread it if in return, you'll be his fake girlfriend for the upcoming house party. that night sets off an event with all five letters.

GENRE ⏵ FLUFF, college!au / university!au, setting around 2013 ( 2010s!au ), 2000s!au ( childhood ), to all the boys i’ve loved before!au, summer!au, some angst since we do only have one end game, childhood friends2lovers, hockey player!hyunjae, playboy (with a soft side)!hyunjae, short fake dating!au side plot, boy next door!eric, frat!eric, rich kid!eric, flirty but shy!sunwoo, old summer love!sunwoo, reader is an medical assistant, lots of pining, mutual pining, cats!!!, nerdy oblivious juyeon, literature major!juyeon, history major!changmin, changmins bad at sports (sorry bub), 3 different types of parties!, a pool party, a house party, a beach party (i don’t even like parties irl!)

WARNINGS ⏵ reader is good at sports ( volleyball ), hyunjae is a little mean/ manipulative at the start, reader gets drunk twice, sunwoo once ( oufff ), swearing a few times ( fuck, shit ), some jealousy, bad dancing (specially from reader), reader's zodiac sign is a capricorn (for a joke), kissing, pet names ( angel, princess ), proofread once ( i feel like ive forgotten something but hope not😭 )

WORD COUNT ⏵ 19 k

playlist i listened to while writing

this is my fic for @deoboyznet the love letter collective event ! if you specifically want to know which members will have more romantic storylines and who reader will end up with; i have written it out at the end of the post! ( if it being your bias is important for reading ex ). though all five will have cute/ flirty moments with reader! i changed to 2nd person pov for no reason😭 i hope you don’t mind here’s a 500 word teaser before commitment ( it’s in 3rd pov for now! )

like and reblog are highly encouraged !

01 . CHAPTER ONE 

IMAGINE THIS; ONCE UPON A TIME, FATHER OF YOURS SAID THAT TO SCOUR THE EVIL THOUGHTS OCCUPYING YOUR YOUNG MIND, ONE ONLY HAS TO WRITE LETTERS. What a magical solution to all the finite problems of youth! That’s what you thought even as you started to come of age and the inevitable falls of love. Each time, when your innocence was consumed, little by little, by the harsh realities of romance; you spit it out on a piece of paper, enveloped it, stored it in a box (extra security measures) and sheltered underneath your bed. 

And now, you’re in university. Back home for the last two weeks before the autumn semester. Laying against the bed–it reeks of school mornings of 2005–and still holds those letters beneath. The pink hues on the pillows are still there, maybe a little washed out. All butterflies stickers from magazines are plastered on furniture that shines, just slightly, when the sun goes down underneath the neighboring roofs, lucent through the open windows. 

You’ve hung out with Eric, a childhood friend. Bicycled down the gravel paths fenced in lines through houses. Side by side, always trying to one up the other like you always did. Take a swim in the same lake, in the same spot those old pictures show. Like those days; the sun never falters until it all stands on the edge between diagonal roofs. 

And amidst your childhood lies your younger cousin. Bare arms touch each other as you lie side by side with feet over the pillows, and noses –the paper box of letters. She told you about a longing crush she has for a boy in the parallel class. When overconsumed by nostalgia; you couldn’t refrain from dusting off the old box. And that’s how you ended up back with the letters you swore to withhold. 

There are five of them. 

The first one is Lee Jaehyun, a three year older popular student who you had a trivial crush on in middle school ( together with everyone else). In all honesty you didn’t know much about him; just that he was cute looking. There’s a sort of emotional torment in recalling the one sided adoration while leaned out the school window to see him play football. Even his name haunts you still in uni as your roommate had a crush on the shining hockey player the entire two semesters.

In short, everyone liked Lee Jaehyun. 

Next is Eric Sohn, your childhood friend, the boy next door, even first love? He has many titles you realize. He lived in an impressive house north from here, one that hosts many parties every time his parents take the trip to their summer resort. At some point, it felt like he knew every kid in town. Luckily, you have never been the jealous type. Despite being each other’s ride or die since ten, you never confessed the secret ways you looked at him back in the sandbox.  

Third is Sunwoo–just Sunwoo; you never got his last name–from summer camp who you even ( jokingly ) got married to. Your first summer at thirteen, away from parents, with kids the same age. When recalling it all back, that summer feels as if taken out of a movie, and you fell head first, three meters deep with the boy. Sunwoo always stood in the center ( bad and good…mostly bad tbh ). You got paired up for the kayak; it pissed rained and your coordination couldn’t take you ten meters. But you remember every word he said as butterfly inducing nonetheless. After that, at night you snuck out of your cabins to watch the stars. And when that summer too ended, you swore your heart shattered into million pieces.

The fourth is Lee Juyeon, a boy you had never seen before until his cat got pregnant by yours. Scuba Steve ( long story ) had been gone for some days until another family came up to their door with him. For half a year, it felt like you saw Lee Juyeon everyday. He was just as enchanted by kittens as you ( if not more ) and you two would visit each other just to cuddle with them. The teenage heart used to rush with the mere presence of him and together you named all the kittens–until they were sold off. Then they eventually stopped seeing each other. Though he still lurks around as a poet’s ghost around campus ( source Eric ). 

The last one, Ji Changmin, the son of your mother’s friend. He teached you calculus for a while in high school. To be fully transparent, you didn’t learn much from him that year because all you did was leaning on the kitchen table while adoring him until the rims of his glasses slipped. He always scolded you endearingly when you didn’t listen ( which was the majority of the time ). Ji Changmin always wore cute polos with neat pants–now when thinking about it, mother might have approved if you got together. But it’s too late. He went to uni; and simply left you with a newfound thing for glasses ( still wearing cute polos in uni ). 

And that’s all. You sometimes wonder if it was a mere symptom of youth that resulted in those letters. Since uni–outside a campus crush or two-–that compelling yearning for someone has never come back. 

Eventually the bird’s cease to sing once the sun swallows entirely by the horizon, and cicadas can be heard through the open windows. You leave the letters as the two of you close the door. Mother asked if you and your cousin wanted to go with the rest of the adults down to the green field at the center of the neighborhood, you said yes. 

When the heavy door shuts against the frame, voices from your younger brother’s room at the highest floor seeps through the windows.

( next morning ) 

“Mom, you haven’t seen some letters?” You stand at the stairs to look down the kitchen counter where mother and your brother turn from the pantry light. 

“Three’s blue and two pink envelopes?” You ask again. 

Mom shakes her head, “No, I haven’t?” 

You sigh, sprint up the second floor. 

“Y/n?” 

Call of your name echoes through the frame into your room. To look over the bed and see your younger brother centered at the white rectangle. His fringe like curtains reluctant to open as he looks elsewhere. You come up completely. 

“What?” 

“The letters…” 

Your ears perk up, “You’ve seen them?” 

“No, I took them…” He says guilty and starts tearing off paint from the wall. 

“The guys wanted to prank you yesterday, we sent them, I’m really sorry.” 

He looks up again, “But I told them to not do anything more.” He reassures, but his voice trails off as you neither alienate or sigh at this confession. Eyes, lifeless as the posture in your arms hanging off your stale corpse. 

“You did what?” You ask; wishing you heard incorrectly the first time and he crashed a vase instead. 

“We sent your letters..” He says hesitantly with eyebrows knit. 

You close your eyes. Take your hands up your face to cup it and breathe in. Autumn semester starts in exactly 13 days and you know at least half of the letter receivers attend. And definitely all five live in the city. 

To breathe out, hands fall in your lap. He cocks an eyebrow at what one could guess is a meditation session before you open your eyes. 

“I’LL KILL YOU!” 

02 . CHAPTER TWO

( tuesday afternoon ) 

The letters were out; an existential dread running on two bags of pure sugar surged within you. A sensation you were oblivious to existed. First week went, and you hoped the mail man had fallen over and left the letters on the highway, doomed to get run over til their unreadable. But those wishes perished the very moment Eric Sohn came chanting underneath the window. The characteristic bird chimes and mowers intertwined in green leaf rustle; his voice echoed through open glass. You told mom not to tell him you were here; that you had already taken the train to the city. 

Destiny was in your favor for once, and your mother did lie when Eric came to the front door. 

So far, none crossed fate with the receivers of your letters has ensued. Eric was the only established friend in your life, hence you held yourself far, far away from any business major hot spots. Though, just after achieving three days. The first afternoon at the start of your part time; rulers leave you forced to stare eye to eye with receiver number one.

“This is Y/n, she will work as your athletic trainer assistant for this semester.” The trainer lifts hands to his side to make it even clearer than it already was. It is damn cold beside the ice rink–which you thank god for since your face would be blistered red otherwise. As he presents for all tall men in thick layers of hockey protection, they stare; you’re left to make a timid jazz hand motion with a strained smile. 

“I’m Y/n.” Hands fall back to your side and concentrate all might to look at the other eight people–not the one to the right. 

“She will be helping me with equipment and aid; so you’ll see her around a bit.” 

The players wave past you in turn; to introduce themselves in a mere identical manner. The last name pains deeply as you pretend to find shoelaces loose. 

“Jaehyun.” 

You can’t see his expression, not even when eyes come up. Only his back covered in blue jersey greets you as he steps off the plastic flooring and onto the ice. 

Though, it is an immediate opportunity for breathing room when all players go to practice. The plastic walls become solid and you look over the formations on ice. Maybe you got yourself free from this one? Maybe Hyunjae also thought it was so damn awkward that it’s easier to ignore it. You hope deeply while taking off one glove, as sultry temperatures rise beside the rink. 

Followed by the 30 minutes of relocating equipment around the center, the next time you come back into the ice hall, the trainer greets you with sweat outlining his sideburns. You knit your eyebrows before taking eyes off him and onto the player in navy; halting out the rink. Turns out Coach yelled two different instructions, followed after one another; which resulted in a collision of two players. 

He tells you to take him, who limps to the clothing rooms. By immediate compliance you approach his silhouette; leaning on the plastic divide. You can’t make out the exact expression as he faces the ground, but when you ask him if he needs help walking. That horribly handsome face from your childhood looks up. Breathing heavily, but smiles through the fringe. 

“Yeah.” 

You purse your lips into a thin line. To force sight away from him. You look at the entrance to the ice hall while taking his arm over your shoulders. Come to the clothing room after taking off his ice skates. The two intentions of your own conscience fought while walking. Nothing would be more awkward than looking at him again, on the other hand, the concern over his weak state is true as the continuous breath sounds loudly beside your ear. 

Hyunjae’s now on the bench before one side of the lockers. He watches attentively as you round the sport’s bags to take the first aid kit on the other side. The ventilation is the loudest thing in the room. At some point it becomes bothersome as you hold his clothing. You haven't made eye contact since the rink, but senses his gaze fixed over your scalp.  

He talks suddenly.

“You know Y/n, I got your letter.” He says while looking down at your hand; securing the bandage around his ankle. 

Fuck. 

Fingers stale from suspension for a moment on the bandage edges. The material loses around his ankle and you force it towards you. 

A sigh, still looking down, “Listen; it was my br–” 

“It’s appreciated Angel, but it will never happen.” His lips curve higher at one opposite edge, leaving his eyes on you with pleasure like he knows something wrong. 

You let go off his legs; weight from your hands fully on your knees as you observe–rolling your eyes. 

“I know, okay.” You breathe in, “What I was about to say was; my little brother sent it, it was not meant to be seen by you.” Another sigh before you force yourself up from the floor; coming in greater height than Hyunjae. 

“Also; I wrote it when I was like 11.” To turn to the first aid kit, “So don’t get your ego too high, Ice God.” 

“Sure, if that’s what you say, Angel.” Hyunjae takes his palms on the bench surface; leaning against the locker. Arch of his lips might rewrite your life when he proceeds to stare.  

“Why do you even call me that?” You return to the opposite side and cross arms; to perceive him roughly as if to build similar strain in him. But it leaves to no avail. 

“Why?” He quotes, “You’re sitting here healing us, our team’s little angel.” He shrugs his shoulders. 

You look away as to not blossom of rose pigment–instead start organizing the materials in the aid kit. 

“Either way, Jaehyun. You can go now, it’s done.” 

No length of his voice waves via the dead locker ocean. After eyes set on the sections of the green bag; you glance at his bench. And to make you uncertain, his white bandage leg is still in frame. After you pull the zipper and leave the kit in your lap; you stare at Hyunjae who, with the usual smile, stares back. 

“I said you can go…” Quietly and tilt your head towards the door. 

“I know.” Hyunjae voices in the same tone as before. 

You side eyes him still and sits up. 

“I have a deal. Would you like to hear it?” He says suddenly, causing a rupture across the room and stacked tension weighing on your shoulders.

“Okay…” There’s an uncertain principle, written like a formula over your expression, layered in your voice. 

“You go with me as my girlfriend for Jeno’s party this Friday.” He says monotone. 

The first aid kit frees from your hands. Eyes drifting between two points and you’re left looking eyebrow knit at him two meters away. Then, forced to turn when he smiles contempt. You swiftly bend down to take the aid kit before returning gaze. Hyunjae sees in center of two bags hanging; your lips sunder to shove down the offer. Right through the concrete to the core mit. 

“--Or else I’m putting up your letter for the whole campus to see.” 

You immediately shut sealed and eyelids folds half over the curvature. He smiles so hard it borders on comical. And with his arms crossed over his jersey, you only wait for them to fall and see him burst out laughing; tell you he got you. But the silence prevails your thoughts and you start to believe he’s actually serious. 

“I don't believe you.” You look tired at him. 

“No, I’m serious.” Hyunjae still nonchalantly crossed armed and slack raised shoulders. 

As another passage of ventilation comes through, beckon time like the minute visor. You finally sigh and sit down at the bench again. 

“Why even me? Can’t you just ask someone else?” Frustration over the seemingly complex idea for a deal when he could make it ten times easier for himself.

His expression falters for a second after the question. Hyunjae holds his lips sealed; unaltered high posture cause he hesitates to give away his shortcomings. But on the other hand, just a little empathy might do it. 

“I’m actually in a bad position, Angel.” He leans forward, voice quieter.

“Everyone knows I’ve got a girlfriend, but she broke up with me before the semester. They want to finally see her, but I got none” He pauses and leans his chin on his hand and pouts a little, “--just you.”

The withered corners of your face perks slowly up as he ends his sentence. Hyunjae smiles harder, believing he a white winged victory, but it disappears the very second you laugh in his face. Your back comes against the support of the bench while eyelids close to the bottom of laughter.

“She dumped you?” Hands gather in your knees. 

“Too bad, too bad.” 

It’s Hyunjae’s turn giving stale eyes. Though, just as fast; he gathers himself back and leans onto the lockers again. 

“Yeah, is it a deal or not, Angel?” 

You breathe in and look at him still. Hyunjae is more foolish than his appearance gave off, you don't have faith in first impressions. He might as well scan your lost letter and create a chain mail across campus. Partying wasn’t on your list for the first weekend of the semester, but maybe you could get away with lurking against the wallpaper?

You swing your left foot and finally look back at him, “Okay, deal then.” 

Hyunjae smirks. 

“Just this, then we're equal. No grudge, no obligations.” 

“Sure.” He nods. 

You tilt your chin down, “...I don’t trust you, Jaehyun.” 

He lets his hands up, “Look, I’m keeping my promise. I told you my dirt too.” 

“Like not having a girlfriend is as embarrassing as a love letter written in 2002.” 

( friday evening ) 

“Okay, should we go in then?” You take a step forward but get pulled by the shirt. Shoulders come up against him and the arm sleeve of his clothing folds against your nape.

From your first encounter until Friday; you were forced to persevere through charming–bordering on foolish–remarks. The weekend prophesied as projection on the glass entrance that Friday. And it shattered the very moment Hyunjae’s voice echoed from the changing rooms. That he’ll wait for you outside the women’s dormitory. With not a twitch in own expression, he disappeared behind the frame with a wink. 

One of your two roommates was also invited to the house party. The thought of having someone else other than ice god settled some relief. But as you stood waiting in the summer heat of night; the first bus went and fifteen minutes later, you saw a familiar silhouette to the left of the stairs you sat on. 

He didn’t say anything when you refused to sit up and just glared tired at him. 

“What’s with the face, Angel?” He had asked laughing lightly, “We’ll miss the bus.”, you are forced to stand. 

“You’re late, Ice God.” You muttered and started walking towards the bus stop. Hyunjae ran up beside.  

Both talked while the streetlights behind the glass window became all the more distant. Though, it didn’t become hopelessly quiet, as it was a loud friend group behind. You cursed your half sleeve arms when Hyunjae didn’t know the way to Jeno's house from the bus stop. Forced to traverse between bushes when he pointed at mindless directions. Swore that he knew the “shortcut”. And ants might as well have climbed up your toes and into your underwear. 

Now, as either stands before the three stairs and the entrance door in the midst of the front yard. You're pulled against his chest (still covered in leaves). 

“Not so fast.” 

Though he’s out of peripheral vision; the self satisfied tone at every articulate visualizes his smile. His hands like a thin veil across your shoulders–you take a step back from them, to face him fully. 

“Okay then? What’s the plan, Ice God?” You cross arms to build some fence–to match his pride. But either only shares an instant of eye contact before you press your lips and look towards the sad flowers hidden in the corner. 

Hyunjae has always enjoyed teasing people. Of course, a bit apprehensive to strangers, but nonetheless; he waits no time to poke at the first friend closest in sight. He himself has probably no thought about it, but he has a thrill for watching people’s reactions. You were no different. Like the sun; secret behind the trees, it’s always so obvious. You were flustered by his turns of nicknames and comments; so much that you feel to defend your blemished garden. There’s something endearingly professional about you, he thinks. 

“You have a lip balm or something?” He cocks an eyebrow. 

You look at your belongings; eyes looking as narrow threads when apprehensive. To wait for his signature laughter but instead nods his head. You roam around the bag; hands helping to widen your vision, but not enough to notice his fingers below the tender sprout against your head. You look up to see him with one of your two hair clips. Curious what he’ll do; you try no fence when he sets it on his fringe. 

“Now I’m yours.” He smiles. 

Hyunjae comes down to you slightly before returning; taking his eyes off and onto the entrance before brushing past your shoulder. Because of the evening shades, the red pigments on your cheeks withers out with skin as you look behind your shoulder to see Hyunjae’s figure let the deafening conversations from inside, out. He doesn’t look back towards you, and you knit eyebrows before taking double steps up the stairs and into the house. 

With one step you push yourself off the wallpaper; feel shoulders brushing up against your own as the living room opens. 

Hyunjae held your hand for the first half an hour. He then let go when something happened between the friends (you didn’t know). But even then you tailed after like some home cat. Though, as anxiety arose after seeing a group of Eric’s friends in the same room, you cautiously backed into the corner. Some stranger did the rest for you when they collided with the table and Jeno’s grandma fell lid first and shattered on the floor. It became a bit quiet when poor grandma(s ashes) laid there, all spread out. 

After Jeno panicked and some helped clean up; the chamber of incomprehensible conversations started again. 

There’s cliques scattered between the couches. You reach on high toes to see past all the height and hair to locate the frame you came in from. Soon you fall back to your heels, just as the chorus waves through the walls. The crowd suddenly opens up before you when two people walk away. You’re left still and see the open door to the hallway. Shoulders come down in height just as you breathe out. Relieved to take a step to finally leave; but your feet barely touch the wood until eyes widens and air asphyxiates in your throat. 

At the end of the high walls; Eric stands half a meter from the door frame. A lamp shines from behind him, lightning up his half body. Like the sun; he becomes the very essence of the narrow square. 

You turn in a desperate attempt for survival. This season heat and packed building; it all bends backwards through the grass field in all four directions. 

Immediately you see diagonally behind, a staircase up to the second floor. You don't even look back to Eric before colliding with someone's back and sprint up. There’s no lighting up the wooden stairs, just Earth’s wailing moon through the pier glass. 

All those voices–through speakers or chords–wanes like the full to crescent moon month. 

There’s closed doors around. It burns pace from behind and you take the handle of the door left to the stairs. Without letting it open even half way; you slip past the glimpse and lock it shut.

You lean close to the door; feel the cold wood on your left cheek. The party’s over on this side. Like the melancholic memory of falling asleep to the adults in the other room. 

When you expect nothing; a clear voice from behind reiterates peculiar sentences. 

Not strong enough to take your chin off the door; you look past your shoulder to see someone in the bathtub with a damned annotated book. 

It takes about three seconds from first contact until the bathtub guy flinches, “Ah!?” 

“Oh my god!” Your eyes widen while your shoulders contract as wings. 

It echoes between the tiles when his book lands on the bathtub floor. To face the sudden him, distressed; your hands come up in height with your wing like bone. 

“Sorry.” You deadpan. 

“No, it’s okay.” He answers, soft spoken. Eye contact stays fleeting as his fringe–like curtains–falls before the mirage window when he reaches for the book. He mends the awry strands into place; scour the wordy dimensions to where he left off. 

You recall his soft silken halo. Hands come down to its sides and you lean off the door. Like a main character from an academic tale; he looks deeply dreamlike–always somewhere else. The guy feels your presence still as above the title cover; his eyes peeks. 

At this point, you look at him with wide eyes horror; ready for him to either aristocratically roast your fourteen old writing, or condense into second hand embarrassment and hide under the bathtub. 

Lee Juyeon sits in the damn bathtub of a house party. 

As you’re deep in fourth dimensional torment; Juyeon speaks first. 

“Oh, Y/n.” 

He smiles, still holds the book before him. 

You refuse to move, “Hi…Juyeon.” 

“That was a long time.” He switches between your eyes and the next sentence. 

The tension in your frame aids in turn for every second. Juyeon doesn’t mention any letters, but still, you eye him suspiciously. 

“Yeah.” You agree awkwardly. 

“Why are you here?” You ask. 

Juyeon pauses in sentence once again to shift his fringe and look up. You had nearly forgotten the patterns of silence and speaking he so often followed. Back when they always met; they spent so many seconds simply waiting for him to talk. 

“I would ask you the same thing.” He sort of tilts his head attentively. 

With your lips pursed instead of answering, you look to the mirror above the sink. Water in delicate droplets dive in while he turns the next page. 

“Escaping things?” He asks, still reading.  

You nod. 

“We all do.” 

You see him through the mirror reflection. His eyes bent like a faint wave from shore; reassures her lone presence. 

As he closes off himself again; you figure he doesn’t mind their shared space. There’s no sign of knowledge about your letter. Juyeon always reeked of innocence, so maybe you’re wishing. 

But Eric’s still one floor below (taking the safe option). 

You take a seat on the bathtub edge. Shoulder faces Juyeon who leans his back on the discolord cream white tiles. . 

“Should I read something for you?” He asks soothingly. 

You hesitate before letting your hands comfortably down the edge, “Okay.” 

“You want some?” He reaches out the green glass bottle. 

Your shoulders scoff when your mind affirms, “Thank you.” 

Juyeon asks suddenly, “How’s Scuba Steve?” 

Truly the only thing left that protects from not spitting out the alcohol is embarrassment. You do an expression tainted by drinks or unease, and let the bottle down your lap. 

To wonder how in the passage of all years; Juyeon recalls your insignificant house cat that mated with his own (or maybe it’s not that weird when you think after). 

There’s a sort of foolish–bordering on stupid–touch in your chest that he actually never forgot Scuba Steve. One could guess we live on, assuming we’re the only one that remembers. 

“Oh, he’s dead.” You deadpan.

“Oh.” 

The room reaches–what resembles closest to silence– in a house party. Both their lips are pressed in thin lines as they view the tiles above each other again. 

“You then?” Silence starts to torture you briefly in your fingers.

“How’s…” Your face contracts in parallel to the ceiling when scattered bleached cuts from that black little cat sleeping on his floor. 

“Mindy?” He says. 

“Oh, Yeah.” 

They both laugh. 

“She’s still alive.” He lets the book down for the first time (excluding the jumpscare), “She’s with mom and dad. Though she's getting very old now, she eats less and doesn’t even go out anymore.” 

As they sat there talking about cats and poetry; eventually the boundary past the toilet door ceases. You didn’t leave that end of the bathtub (aside from running down the kitchen with Juyeon for more alcohol). 

Now they lie on opposite builds against the cold edge. It’s been sometime since you drank, specifically this much. You can’t talk for Juyeon, but he seems pretty damn wasted too. Your eyes dares to fall while Juyeon’s shirt climbs up his chin as he comes deeper down the tub. 

“I can’t wake up here.” You mumble. Either to yourself or decked out Juyeon; you don't know. He answers something incomprehensible back as a bottle in the scattered line before the bathtub falls. While you grasp for the handle, you turn barely to Juyeon who has his eyes half open. 

“Bye, Juyeon, it was epic.” You wave your free hand, “Tell Mindy I said Hi.” 

“I’ll do.” He tiredly answers back. 

The alcohol withers boundaries within your body. Turns it weak for the downstairs crowd, like poison inducing nausea. In line with poison; You walk as if zombie apocalypse smitten down the stairs without holding onto the railing. Somehow reaches the ground floor and passes through the living room. 

Whatever mechanisms your mind built to defend its dignity from Eric; it took the place of the alcohol in its glass bottles. You’re in the hallway, three meters from the entrance. It’s overheating–worse than a sauna–in the house. Mere presence of tepid air has your hands trailing along the walls. 

A warmth presence dividing the you and outside blocks. In a desperate drunk attempt you push against it and complain. 

“Out the way, you’re fucking hot.” 

“I am?” 

It speaks back, in a tone rather mischievous than what your state calls for. With a shift of the inner lightning; you realize you have your hands on a uni jacket. The logo turns and you would accuse him of motion sickness. 

From your face-low angle, his hands are tied between the blue pockets. You lean harder on the wall to force your chin where his head is tilted with a smile to the same degree. 

“You’re still here.” You still complain and his face drops. Eyes fleet between your face, the opposite wall, and the entrance door to return. 

“That wasn’t a compliment, right?” His fingers directed to his chest. 

“No, Einstein.” Eyebrows knit when realizing you’ve drifted off the main mission. Two shoulders on opposite ends collide as you hastily drag along to the frame. 

“Woah, woah.” The male student takes your wrist lightly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea.” 

“I think it’s a great idea.” You defend without knowing. 

“You’re gonna fall down the stairs.” 

His voice is strangely worried which you would have been touched by, if it wasn’t for the drunk state. 

Mid temperatures of night may have transpired any senses as you don't answer. He takes this to come up in line with you; one decimeter away from the first stairs. 

There’s two people, solitude in a hammock to the right, and prey like shadows of two around the grass. Music from inside is still too loud, and it probably hides someone puking at the other end. 

“I’ll help you, okay? I’m not a weirdo.” 

You turn your head to side eye him. Either promise respect or sacrificially bow down, he throws his hand up. To then gently lie it on your shoulder, lead you down. 

“That’s what a weirdo would say.” You mumble without working against him. 

Gravel scratches underneath their feet and the male student takes his hand off your shoulder; though still twined by the wrist. 

He starts, “I need your name, I should call–” 

“Sunwoo!” 

It seizes pulsations from inside, and the male student takes his head from you. Features on his face and the blue jacket is immediately recognised by the one below. The student's eyes are wide and Sunwoo’s eyebrows hold a neutral position above. 

“Jaehyu–”

“She’s my girlfriend!” Hyunjae takes your wrist from him. 

“Why are you still standing here?” He agitates before wandering off the gates with you. 

Sunwoo shoves his hands up in height with his chest once again; not risking to start fighting with the reigning hockey player while he’s half drunk, half angry.

“I don’t think I’m allowed in here.” Sounds tense. 

“It’s not like you’re here to hook up.” 

“They don’t know that.” Hyunjae deadpans. 

After both left Sunwoo at the stone stairs, Hyunjae coursed through the shrubbery once again. You seemed confused over the interaction; he doesn’t think you even realized the hand on your own changed. He thought you would sober up during the train ride, but you still took irregular stepping patterns down the warm lighted gravel path. 

While down the glass entrance to the soaring female dormitory; Hyunjae motioned you to walk in. But as fast he let go of your shoulder, you stumbled three steps back. 

“What should we do then?” Hyunjae asks, frustrated. 

“I don’t know, it was your idea to go the party.” You cross arms. 

“And yours to get so drunk that you can’t stand.” He spits back. 

The night pulls them close when they wait lonely, as if exiled. Summer cicadas swallow their venom words and when one street lamp flickers; Hyunjae sighs and takes a seat down the stairs. You follow. 

Once the peaceful moon renders all its light, leaving it to its bones; your head falls to his shoulder. While you carve shapes in its craters, your arms mindlessly pull him close. The strands of your hair accumulate on his neck, and while filed under the same sky, your breath sounds like a soundtrack to him. 

Like the passage from day to night; he notices his heart like it’s vastly alive. How many eyes have looked at him adoringly, but he can’t even anxiously look down your side. It’s familiar yet strange, he refuses to acknowledge it. And still you are oblivious, can’t even see his blushing face. 

“Shouldn’t you go home?” You ask softly. Tired and slow in contrast to the previous sentence. 

“I can’t leave you here.” He finally looks down at you. 

“Then you're going to be tired tomorrow.” Guilt visually lines your sunken silhouette. 

Hyunjae smiles, “You’re gonna be too.” 

He speaks gently again after silence, “Sober up a bit more and you’ll walk up.” 

03 . CHAPTER THREE

( saturday midday )

Not because you thought you were immortal anyway, but the next morning came crashing through the roof. While grieving your roof (it wasn’t broken), you swore the ceiling fan was up to mock you in its circles. All while last night lingers as a supercut. 

Your two roommates had woken up earlier, they were supposed to go out. Where? You can’t remember; at that point you were still trying to figure out who you bickered with outside Jeno’s stairs. 

Either way, the bottom line is; you didn’t throw off your clothes, and no texts from Eric. 

The campus is idyllically still in late summer. Bird whistle intertwines with the wind who walks like you through the grass, under the same gravel path Hyunjae led you yesterday. Sun drenched tree crowns and your eyes yearn through the gaps. 

There’s a yellow haze over the world and when you take another step; charge in gravel comes from behind. How your legs sway towards the grass border, fleeting levels with your eyes over your shoulder. A bicycle comes half a meter before; stops it with his right foot.

“Oh–Hi, Y/n.” 

“Oh, Juyeon?” 

He jumps off the saddle and they fall in same line. 

“You look a bit tired?” Juyeon asks in a voice, perfect sync with the bird song. Once again the world falls so dream-like behind him. 

“Yeah, yesterday was…stressful.” You take a palm up to your forehead. 

Juyeon’s smile falters, anxiously tilts his head, “Did I do something last night?” 

“No,no–something else happened…not you.” Hand between the open space which you wave reassuringly. His eyes become concerned and yours only redder. Hyunjae’s touch still lingers on that half of your body; you’re afraid Juyeon can see it. 

You ask something else instead, “You then? You’re not tired?”

He laughs softly, “A bit.” “But I’m supposed to meet a family friend.”

You nod. 

Leaving the last tree behind; the blue sky opens up, just in time for his revelation. Juyeon turns to you fully. Merely one can make out the contour of a light bulb above his head. 

“She bought two of our kittens; Lemon and…” He knits his eyebrows, unable to see your eyes, brilliant with curiosity. 

“I forgot.” He laughs, “They’re big now, I see them sometimes.” 

“Really?” 

Juyeon hums, “Do you want to see them?” 

“Of course!..if it’s okay for your friend?”

“She’s a lady my mother knows.” Juyeon takes one leg over the bicycle saddle and tilts his head–so that his hair too–points to the rack. 

“Jump on.” 

To exchange his eyes with the bicycle rack; you purse your lips and walk behind. Hands immediately cling to the metal frame, but as Juyeon weighs forward, you hold onto his shirt. 

Juyeon looks back and smiles as you struggle, “Hold my waist or you’ll fall off.” 

At this moment, you’re so deeply relieved he hasn’t read your letter. It eases the touch in your hands as they come to his front. Shirt folded above your clasped hands lies like a veil.

That feeling, of when a perfect alignment of past and memory presents. It washes over one as soften, melancholic, whiplash. You hadn’t thought about his scent in years, but as they chase the sun yet never pass it, his shirt touches your cheek. In his home where they used to sit on knees beside each other. It flutters your heart tenderly. 

At the high end peak you felt burdensome. Juyeon reassured you while weighing onto the pedals standing. He seemed to quietly persist in breathing through his nose, even when he was audible panting. 

He led the bicycle to the front, beneath the shadowed roof; you cast your eyes over the asphalt end. The wind rushes through nature up here. As such the foreground, alive, before the still concrete and bricks. 

Juyeon called your name to where he waited beside the door. With a half a shoulder hidden by his own, the bell goes off. A lady opens and smiles instantly as she sees Juyeon. Her wrist in rose patterns reaches out for his shoulder, comforts it gently. Since you’re a stranger; you’re left to awkwardly observe and retell like a narrator. 

“Oh, you have a girl with you?” She smiles at Juyeon, which he returns. He introduces you to the lady while she weakly widens the door gap. 

She still talks when three cats come to the hallway rug. Curiously they silently circle your legs, but they too can tell you’re no threat. 

An orange cat, clothed in layers of orange fur, brushes its head against your calf. You immediately bend down to pet it. To figure out if this fox-like complexion existed in your past too; you tilt your head. But your cat’s were more like crows than foxes. 

Apparently something must have shown because Juyeon says from beside. 

“This is Belle, they had their own kittens here. Ours are probably resting on the couch.” 

You look up, “Oh.” 

The old lady goes to the kitchen to take out tea and biscuits. Meanwhile Juyeon guides you to the living room where three other cats lie in the cushions of a worn down brown couch. Their socks tenderly span across the clear floor, and it must have woken them up. You smile briefly when they instantly seem to recognize him; reach their heads up for touch once he sits. All weights deeper down the material once you sit beside him. Touching shoulders to see a cat lick his finger in his lap. 

Like a jet black scarf in his jeans pattern; it contrasts from the faint white mark–like a moon at night–on her head. 

“She’s so big now.” You say when visions from those evenings before the TV playing Sailor Moon. You called out her name–Luna–that day when you saw her cramped between her siblings. 

Juyeon also named a kitten after a TV show he watched..

“Is that Mum Mew?” 

Now in direction towards the floor; a larger cat, half underneath the couch, half on your feet. 

Juyeon laughs, “He’s Oscar now.” He leans closer and whispers, “I don’t think I’ve ever told her that was his original name.” 

They sit there until the lady comes out again. 

“It’s so lovely that you got a girlfriend, Juyeon.” She puts down the plate and the two look at her, “I’ve all actually thought about you a lot. I’ve been thinking about calling your mother to set you up with someone, I started to get a bit worried.”

The lady has an attentive x on her face. The skin on her forehead hides nothing as it folds, deeply contemplated. Only with your head down and suppressed smile, can you clearly notice the plates against wooden surfaces. Juyeon scratches his nape frantically while laughing. 

"Yeah, uhh–” He stammer. 

“You know, by your age, I was with many guys.” She sits down on the opposite chair. 

“We got together, then we broke up. I had a guy in Paris who I really liked.” She leans forward, “Back then I was so in love I wanted to stay. I thought he was perfect! Kind, handsome, sex–”

“What’s the type of cookie?” Juyeon suddenly bursts out. Leaned over the table pointing at the brown one that’s obviously chocolate. But the lady doesn’t seem to bother. 

“Oh, you see!” 

You press your lips, the color might have vanished. Though it was painfully awkward; Juyeon was just adorable enough to turn the situation endearing. She still describes in detail over her mother’s mother recipe; and Juyeon from the side nods his head attentively, like he always does. 

After another conversation, the topic returns. 

“So when did you meet?” 

Turns to exchange question marks between you. His eyes don't say much and you guess yours neither. 

Juyeon scratches his nape, “We’ve been friends for sometime.” 

Lady nods, “Since when?” 

“Like…” He looks at you for confirmation, “...fourteen or fifteen?” 

“Did you confess, Juyeon? Or Y/n?” She smiles and looks at you, “Juyeon is a bit shy, I’ll be surprised if he confessed.” 

He retreats back to the couch; sinks down the heavy material. You laugh lightly at how his shoulders, swallows by waves of brown textile. 

“Y/n actually liked me first back then.” He points out gently.

You freeze. 

“Then I confessed in university.” 

The old woman does a sweet smile; hands patterned of life lie like a cover over her heart as she looks at both. 

For the longer you’re in someone’s presence; one starts to adjust to the traits. But even how many conversations went on and the sun above crossed her roof; your shoulders hardened. Like irreversible death does to your physical state, you seem unable to look to Juyeon’s side. By all stars in the universe; you’re suddenly transparent. Obvious, translucent piercing glass. 

You looked out the window at the old woman’s house; terrifyingly, the sky was pink. All the world disappeared at fatal speed when they bicycled back to campus. There must be a sort of brilliant snow, in a color out of our spectrum, that rains down on Earth in summer evening. It leaves the landscape quiet and calm. Cicadas sing when everyone else ceases to. 

None of you felt like going to the dorms just yet, instead; you now sit in the auditorium. Though either laugh echoes throughout the wide open space, there’s a dissolving acid in your lungs, begging to drink all air. 

All those characteristics of a person reveal to the open world after all these years. Because you can’t remember Juyeon being so persistent in apologizing. They came in on the “girlfriend” incident; he smiled embarrassingly, felt guilty for forcing you in on it. You told him it was okay. 

After echoing silence; it soars through the auditorium. Juyeon reaches down his backpack with all its scattered papers. There’s a velvety pulse keeping the space next to you occupied while he’s elsewhere. Once Juyeon comes out of the canvas material; your eyes widen in terror, contrasting the melodic decoration of red velvet and wood. 

Your conscious runs desperately from this room, but physical state is in the same seat. 

Juyeon holds out a blue letter with your handwriting on it. 

“I should’ve said it sooner, I’m sorry.” He says in that gentle tone he always speaks to you with. Maybe a soft arch at the end of the sentence. Nonetheless, you imaginary stabs the mind resting in your bone cradle. 

“It’s okay, it’s okay.” You look at him once before turning to the empty seat and make an expression. One of deep second hand embarrassment that comes from the very narrow part of ‘me’ and sends like shivers. 

“I understand.” Juyeon follows your movements, “You were not supposed to see that letter, they shouldn’t have been leaked.” 

Worried you might have genuinely caused borderline trauma for the poor guy; you turn to him, “I’m really sorry.” 

“No.” The corners of his lips turn into leaves of a red apple. His eyes clouds the color round the pupil and his height convulses barely as he leans into the seat. 

Parts of us never veins, and in front of you, he’s the same boy who patted kittens and was deeply sad when they parted from their mother.  

“I’m honestly very touched by it.” He admits. 

He was back in his childhood home for the last week before semester. When folding the navy sheets of his old bed; his mother came up. A letter in her hand with turquoise color and bubble arch letters in pink ink. Already, it couldn’t be something written in ‘today’. 

And Juyeon is truthful towards you. He read it on the train back home. Always oblivious but grateful nonetheless. Used the window like a passage to the time where you sat beside him on the bedroom floor. 

“Really?” You say surprised. 

He nods, “I’ve never gotten a love letter before.” 

You would scoff and tell him he’s lying, but as his appreciative eyes blur with the blue envelope; you don’t. 

“You know, I think you should join the writer’s club here on campus.” Juyeon smiles at you suddenly. 

“What?” You lean away. 

“Really.” His eyes shapes of honest o’s, “Like–of course there’s some grammar mistakes and you spelt ‘desperatly’ wrong, but you got the feeling!” 

Still the same skeptical expression answers him back. 

“I’m really serious Y/n.”

Own hands in your lap trail towards each other like opposite poles, “I’ll think about it.” 

You watch how he timidly holds the edges and opens the envelope again. Lips shaped in pout like he wonders. 

“Does it bother you if I keep it?” He asks. 

Head shake, though still confused, “No, you can keep it.” 

“Thank you.” He smiles endearingly and tucks it back between the papers and folders. 

A revelation wasn’t as horrid as you thought. Hyunjae’s was deeply embarrassing, but there’s a brief space for contemptment in your heart where anxiety wandered before. Like a visual sight of the butterfly; you look up at the auditorium and ponder over the hidden connections.

You didn’t expect anything from Juyeon; that time has passed. But his now grown up presence seems to fulfill this daily life too. 

“Did others get letters?” Juyeon breaks silence. Like always, his expression paints past the physical boundaries, and one could make out white lines of curious cat ears. 

You figure he means the “they shouldn’t have been leaked”. 

You nod and he tilts his head. Visual intrigue and anticipation from his seat, but you close off in rose pigment like tired flowers. 

“I'd rather not tell you, it’s a bit embarrassing.” You laugh and Juyeon leans back, reassuring. 

This anticipating silence doesn’t cease. It exists as a continuation, a ‘more’ before the ‘end’. One person can’t seem to leave the edge undiscovered, rather, you wait for the red thread to tie its last loop. 

“You know Eric has been looking for you? He seems to miss you a lot.” Juyeon finally says. Tone serious than anything else that left his lips. 

A stone grows between your throat, not acid. There’s no dissolving, just constant aching as you try to move. 

Juyeon continues to talk as you’re silent, “I don’t know what it is, but he’s very understanding…”

He pauses, “...and you know, cause you know him better than I do.” 

04 . CHAPTER FOUR

( tuesday, morning )

“Where’s the psychiatrist?” 

“At the library.” 

“No, I can’t talk to Juyeon anymore.” He groans. 

To drift from the flat roofs outside the window; Eric looks at Sunwoo, further the beige walls. Sunwoo’s head is deep tucked beneath the bedding; Eric crawls over from his own bed to the end of Sunwoo’s. When the weight leans towards Sunwoo’s feet, he closes the pink envelope and lets the navy sheets hide it. The cover comes off Sunwoo’s head by Eric. His face like the moon causes an eclipse over the sun and Sunwoo stares unenchanted back at it. 

“Y/n still haven't answered my messages, it’s been like three weeks!” Eric forces the pillow down. 

“I wouldn’t answer you either.” Sunwoo pats bedding over his chest while Eric throws the pillow at his side. 

They just became friends at the end of the last semester and decided to room for this year. As one’s social circles opens up in double doors whenever Eric comes; your name was one of the first he heard. Sunwoo immediately leaned intrigued at the name, but figured it was just a mere coincidence. He was bound to grow from youth and twine old names with new faces. 

Either way, destiny doesn’t exist, and he won’t take a bait from the universe. Though, Sunwoo threaded over that principle the week before uni started. He worked at the old summer camp and a letter came during the closing week. 

“To Sunwoo”, nothing else. Curiosity took the best of him and he opened the letter to see “From Y/n'' at the end of a massive paragraph. 

The universe got him this time, he admits. In how many positions has he reread the letter and dreamt of the yellow filtered summer from when he was thirteen. In truth he reminiscenced about you those summer’s after. Once reaching adulthood, he realized there was no point in yearning, it’s been years. But this late season has turned into the car ride home from that camp, still with you in vision, so close but not here.

At this point ‘Y/n’ feels like a mere fragment of his imagination; therefore he wont tell. Keep your name from any seekers and contemplate. 

After laughter; Eric plummets to the bed and looks up at the ceiling, feeling Sunwoo’s legs at his elbow. 

“I just don’t understand why she can’t talk to me.” He murmurs. 

“Did anything happen?” 

Only Juyeon knows about the letter Eric received from his best friend. A confession he has longed for since he lived in his castle (big house), but never would be granted. 

Eric thought their connection was stronger than this. Why did you send it if you weren't seeking answers? Why now, this place at this time? 

He has traced every curve of your letters; stared at facebook and mail box. Even the refrigerator at night for answers. 

Though everything the roommates did this summer; Eric can’t tell him, not yet. It’s the luminous memories coming to his ruins. Sunwoo is his presence. 

Silent melancholia climbs above the horizon together with the bleeding sun at the football field. Lines of the goals, rigid and angular, separate the pink-orange growing fragments. Breeze from east colds your heated heart while waiting on the bleachers for Hyunjae. 

You were forced to wake up; not following the united routine of the dormitory when he needed help for a training pass at dawn. But he’s not in sight. 

Half asleep leaning on the backpack, center of your lap; waiting for something holy to run past. 

World’s colors fade into abstraction behind the pupil and a small figure crosses the field. You don’t notice how it leaves the red tracks, closer to the bleachers. Same breeze that touched you passes through its shirt and by mere coincidence. He turns his head opposite from the sunrise and sees you lone illuminated. 

Sunwoo recognises the person despite different clothing. There’s an unconscious underlying characteristic in posture. Sunwoo has been entranced by his own world, but he did think a lot of the pretty girl who fell drunk out of the entrance at Jeno’s party. 

Slowly his feet take him further from the white lines. 

“You’re okay?” His voice tears the plaster away from your vision. 

To look up from the bleacher, a ruler higher than the green grass, they make eye contact. It takes a pattern of blinking but at last you speak. 

“What?” 

“I saw you at the party last Friday, I just wonder if you’re okay?” He repeats. 

A sort of second hand deja vu like nausea, spreads from the visual, coming back. Forces the parallel expression to the feeling, down and instead scratches your head. 

“Oh.” Eyes widen, “Yeah, I’m okay now, thanks.” 

Solitude pushes down into the field with the next breeze. The two of them linger in the same place though the conversation seemed to have ended long ago. You who tie eyes on the far tower of the male dormitory, look back towards him. He stands with barely knit eyebrows, two meters away. It’s not an uncomfortable stare whatsoever, rather curious as the sun rising above the world. 

You smile, “You’re trying to place me…” 

Trying destiny runs through him but nonetheless he’s taken by the sudden realization. You see how the expression unravels and a single shooting star passes the brown coloration of his left eye. 

“You’re Y/n; Y/n from summer camp?” 

You don't react as quickly and are now left blaring into the past and present and the same time. 

“We went kayaking together, don’t you remember?” He points at himself, “I’m Sunwoo.” 

The star falls in east and transcends pink orange shine throughout the campus. For a second; you would have fallen from first row down the grass field with knees bruised of embarrassment, but just in time, you realized that the address written on the letter wasn’t his, just the camp. 

“Sunwoo?” Your posture folds higher to come into view with his own. Truly there’s exciting nostalgia within. 

“I didn’t know you went here.” You say slowly. 

“Me neither.” Sunwoo laughs. 

While in awe over the struck of fate; eyes momentarily drift to the right. Another shadow cuts through the horizon and appears closer while jogging across the field. All light still shines in your eyes while standing up. They come in equal footing and quietly watch each other. He looks over behind and sees Hyunjae. Sunwoo doesn’t quite feel like leaving yet; wished they were stored a moment longer. 

His arms just barely lifts off his sides to embrace you, but the sharp sequence of Hyunjae and you strikes him at the spinal cord. Not wanting to disrupt your relationship again. 

You’re left with wide eyes as Sunwoo runs off the direction he appeared from. 

“Bye Y/n, see you around!” 

It all just played as if at two times speed. One hand lifts to wave from your side of the world while the last strands disappear beyond the goals. 

By peripheral vision, Hyunjae traces Sunwoo. Once more, there’s a torturous sensation growing between marrow bone and heart. When you look his way he feels your eyes held down on him only. 

“You never take water with you, Ice God.” 

While still a meter across, you throw the water bottle to him and he captures it perfectly. Hyunjae looks up with eye-framed windows like staring at the sun. 

“You’re close with Sunwoo?” 

Your bag falls to the ground, “We went to summer camp together, I didn’t know he studied here.” 

Briefly nod while his bag too comes down the grass. You lucid leaning onto the bleachers again–until Hyunjae starts sprinting in one place. The end strands of his hair in parallel motions and his child-like smile shine between the pauses. 

“Let’s run.” He says. 

“I have a volleyball match later.” Back falls to the second and third row as you complain. 

He laughs and takes your wrist, “Running helps with stress.” 

White ribbons knitted along the green corners; they jog the red track field and do a few rounds. Each passage closest to the bleachers you see the shadows diagonally downgrade across the seats. 

Despite having their lungs barely reaching air; Hyunjae persists in conversation. It presses from Earth towards your upper body as you unconsciously choose words before steps. But Hyunjae too seems incredibly out of breath for someone that trains as much as he does. 

You won’t admit it just yet–if ever–that his company is actually enjoyable. 

He lingers across the sport’s center until the shift has ended, and talks to you in insignificant states. In one way; your long shadow at the end of your feet feels guilty. An idea of a self serving dude with too much attention. In truth; he laughs a lot. 

“When’s the game?” Hyunjae asks as their feet come out of synch. 

They stand still catching breath. 

“At three.” You sigh and start walking to the bleachers. 

“Then, I’ll skip this lesson.” Hyunjae stands next to you. 

He takes out the water bottle you gifted him. Presence from your side lingers on him as he drinks, and he raises his eyebrows at the long look. 

“You don’t have to come though.” The lines above eyes cross in a slight perplexed X. 

“You were at my game last time, I should come to.” Hyunjae smiles gently. 

( tuesday, afternoon )

“Need to go to the toilet; nervousness makes me pee.” 

‘21’ in bold font disappears behind the bended wall. You direct towards people in fitted shirts as patterns before the teal walls.

It’s not usual for you to be nervous before games; nor to be completely absorbed by else’s. Now you’re unconventionally a bit more dreamy. The halo in your eyes, up at the sky and shoulder’s slack as if moon-touched. Your teammates pointed it out too when you didn’t answer after ‘Y/n!’. 

Sunwoo reentered your life this morning. The boy that had caused such a heartbreak it was unbelievable. And despite your time changes, you found yourself counting the star constellations he told you that summer. 

This sort of unending chase starts again, that the letters dated to the old camp will find its way to him. Like a foolish child's secret. 

You also wonder why Hyunjae was so persistent on going to your match. One could thread through the interactions and guess he’s become comfortable in your life too. But there’s a brief self reflection. You neither rejected him to come or encouraged. Maybe you want someone up on the bleachers shouting your name, even if it’s not Eric. 

Wooden floor reflects the studio lights like water. Eyes wanders immediately from teammates up to the bleachers. Blue plastic seats on row, to the very windows where it barely collides with the roof. There’s a few silhouettes in groups up on the high rows. Everyone waving their hands to someone, not you. 

When you see number 21 stop before the white line and bring her arm high up to one standing; you suddenly regret not messaging Eric. Though, just as fast; he maybe wouldn’t even have showed up? 

One loud whistle comes from the left; your head directs off the green line tracing vertically. Sees teammates reach their hand out for you to the ring building at the side of the rectangular room. On the opposite, mirrors like theirs in green shirts, they gather.

Thin water like bubbles trace down the narrow row from your temples. All these bubbles that have accumulated beneath the shirt, down knees and threading your throat like a transparent necklace. 

Once the last whistle soars across ceiling; you return to the corner of teammates. Someone touches your arm while running for water; a teammate smiles sincerely but exhausted. 

When shoes are in line with the white painted diagonal; your name chants above all noise. From the floor, your eyes see Hyunjae coming down the blue seats. You aren’t able to reiterate his name before arms of his own wrap around shoulders. 

The invincible spot of cologne sits beneath his shoulder blade. Evoking gently as your chin, supported by the broad shoulder. You hesitantly hug him back and try to look at his face but only reaches his ear. 

Suddenly you feel a bit insecure. 

“I’m really sweaty, Hyunjae.” You laugh awkwardly. 

“Yeah,” His hands retrites without walking back. 

Lips curve to gentle his face and the eyes like porcelain. 

“, and it fits you.” 

A strand falls before your eyes; tucked in by his hands like a dove’s wing. 

Once the match heat flush red, another round of pigment paints your cheeks. There’s no hinder above your eyes left, but still you shake your head and cough; all while Hyunjae still smiles. 

“Thank you, Jaehyun.” 

His expression, more blinding than the long lights above. It’s impossible to not curl up before. You have a certain love for looking away when adoration blooms like spring season on him. Somehow you seemed to have missed when he came to the bleachers too. 

It’s quiet, but Hyunjae still feels like hearing your voice. 

He starts, “You did grea-”

“Y/n!” 

A voice so deeply teared apart and assembled within your mind, that it exists stored in the furthest corners. There’s a certain nerve created just to react to that tone fall, you believe. 

With eyes widened and fingers loosen from each other; you pierce towards the blue door. People still run past your double vision, but for a second the world stopped. 

Eric stands with hands in the blue frame. The universe must’ve heard that wish you prayed before, and in some way, full of relief and exhaustion, you’re happy it did. Eric is visually as hesitant as you, bearing fear and soft in heart pulses. 

“Sorry, Hyunjae, it’s something important.” You jog up to the double door determined. With one last glance to the bleachers, “See you later! …Thanks for coming!” 

Confinement exists excruciating; you hoped it was just the sunbleached walls with square hole windows that trapped them. But not even the open atmosphere, heaven to the infinite universe could save them from what’s been left unsaid. 

Eric asked while passing doors “I have messaged you for two weeks, why didn’t you answer?”. You could only look at him for a second before turning to the open field. His expression begs of confusion, but truly you think he knows why. 

It’s silent. Wind from east campus brushes between the grass. You become the only thing stagnant along the heavy constructions weighing down on Earth as Eric walks up the bleachers. Blue faded denim pockets console his hands as he holds sight on his converse before white plastic. 

“You didn’t even tell me you had a game today.” He refuses to make eye contact. 

Head falls low; everythings to remind you that guilt is the heaviest matter on Earth. 

Theoretically, it’s supposed to be useless feeling alone or unloved with a person like Eric. Sometimes you catch yourself staring in mirrors to search for another pair of eyes. But it’s hard to be miserable when Eric’s been a phone call away. 

It was lonely without you, but I pushed you away. 

“I’m sorry.” You finally say. 

It’s the only thing you get out as you walk up the bleachers. Together on the second row; they watch the green grass and its maroon building boxes. A mellow sun on the edge of disappearing while the land continues flat forever. A wind of different temperature while the concrete still radiates warmth. 

“I’m sorry for ignoring you Eric.” You speak again. 

Their shoes in different font over the white row; you look at them before his side appears in the same position as you. They make eye contact in what feels timeless and it trips on your heart. 

“I was-” 

“It’s oka-” 

There’s silence as they stare at each other; anticipating the other. Though the ink period of the passage becomes laughter as their shoulders collide like the southern and north pole. It ends up being Eric who speaks. 

“You’re forgiven.” He smiles and Earth sighs of relief with you. 

The two poles of their angular edge bind them gently. North and south diasporas sit in silence, whispers of the flat city come from all directions and it smells like grass or nothing in particular. 

A closed connection where everything flows freely without hinder; you had nearly forgotten about that feeling. 

Courage drapes whatever embarrassment was left in you. To breathe in before honest confession. That you love him deeply still, though any romanticized visions are of the past. 

As you think of it; a part of the old self frees and runs with you back towards the grass field. 

“I actually like you too, Y/n.” 

It hitches in your throat. 

“You don’t have to answer yet.” His smile reeks of cotton candy, and the hand on her shoulder before he leaves radiates in puddles like theme parks. 

“I’ll wait for you, princess!” Eric shouts with his hand in his pockets before turning his back. The same nickname he’s called you since seven, never understanding why. 

The stark contour of the real world fades as he disappears towards the dormitory until he’s just a mere dot. 

It’s still warm, but summer has made one privileged. You feel like wearing a jacket as your old self now takes the empty space beside. 

05 . CHAPTER FIVE 

( thursday, afternoon )

Ji Changmin has never been great at sport, and that’s never with a big N. Last night the breaking news of a 2 day beach party got delivered by the infamous friend group, and of course, everyone would be playing the mandatory volleyball games. 

Changmin took his backpack and ran, hoping Eric would be too busy arguing with someone else to notice the empty chair. But at last, Changmin walked up the dormitory corridor with Eric hanging from his left calf like chained. Desperately begging that it wouldn’t be the same if everyone doesn’t come. 

One thing led to the other and every dorm heard a passing march of footsteps to the other end. Changmin was running after Eric whilst he screamed of absolute terror (traumatized from the year before when changmin chased him down the campus, drunk). In a last attempt of escape; Eric jumped Juyeon’s room and made a borderline olympic leep down the bedding before Juyeon processed the door had been opened. 

Like the unofficial therapist he is; Juyeon told Changmin he has a friend in the volleyball team that can teach him this afternoon so as to not embarrass himself completely. 

And that’s how you stand in the same hall; wide eyed and chills growing like rose stems it might strangle you. Though, you could’ve been more embarrassed as Changmin looks about the same. 

With an aggressive tilt to your shoulder while eyelids reach your eyebrows; a firm stare directed at Juyeon. Quietly it signals “what the fuck didn’t you tell me it was Changmin?!”. 

He doesn’t get it. 

“...and he’s really bad.” Juyeon ends while smiling. 

“I’m not that bad.” Changmin side eyes the taller one; also in search for some backup. 

“Yes, you are silly.” His eyes crease in turn with the ends of his lips. From the right side, his hands come up to ruffle the sprout of Changmin’s head. 

All three compiled the net up. You had no interest in bringing up the letter for either Changmin or Juyeon; therefore you rigid and pale served the first shot. 

But thankful for Juyeon’s excitement and obliviousness (surprising) to the reunion he just set up; the tension wore off Changmin’s shoulder and your pigments returned. 

All would rotate between the two sides of the net. You would purse lips to a thin line and turn the plastic of your shoes on the hard floor before running up to Changmin to show him how to serve. At first you stood a little less than a meter behind him; shoved gestures in the air to somehow manipulate his own body to do the same movements. But at last you went up to him, held his hand like gentle rain. 

There was not a bruise or patterns of shades on his palms. Either he’s absolutely addicted to hand cream or those text books of his must enchant his skin while turning pages. 

Changmin felt fragile like all ancient history when you showed him. He tried to be quiet, shyly only talking to Juyeon, but couldn’t help but let out shrieks every time he missed or won. It was just like board games at the dinner table when their parents whispered in the other room. 

You suddenly shout, “Move!” 

Juyeon’s on the opposite side of the two and forced the ball up to the roof with neck breaking power. 

You see how Changmin doesn’t; instead glued to the floor with knees rigid and his hands come up in chest length as if it will save him. You desperately swing your shoulder to the right, but all actions are in vain when their foreheads collide. Force acts up on them and leads them to the ground. Swear it was visible stars circling both heads. 

As the collision wears off and presence hits you as a second impact; terrified you watch Changmin between own two arms down the floor. Legs have his stomach tied to the flooring; 

where in all directions you are. And when they both blushes of embarrassment; Changmin’s hands come a little higher up his chest. 

“You’re supposed to chase the ball.” You stutter and hastily push up from him but miserably fails as the clothing material slips on the floor. 

“I’m sorry-” 

Changmin, just as terrified, apologizes while pushing himself off the floor. One way and two directions; they shut their eyes painfully as the point between their eyebrows hit each other again. One step further down his stomach.

“You didn’t even tell me we had started.” Changmin complains and holds his forehead, looking at Juyeon who climbs under the net. 

You slide off him; knees supporting any weight while at the end of his calves. Great silence from the tunnel system in the high ceiling expands over the yellow walls. It scratches in their throats that you cough. It was enough to crack the tension layered like a glass dome. 

“I don’t feel the same, Y/n.” Changmin sits up. 

“Yeah, I know.” You sigh because you know what he means without asking. Fingers left racing the floor.

“Old story; you were not supposed to get it, I’m sorry.” Guiltily purse lips in, “Also, sorry for falling on you.” 

Suddenly gentle, his legs come over in crisscross and he leans closer to your figure. 

“Yeah…it’s fine.” He confirms in same tone, “Though, I appreciate it. The letter.” 

He pauses. 

“...I had no idea.” Changmin admits.

You laugh, “Really? I was super obvious.” 

“You think so?” He skeptically smiles. 

To bring your arms to an imaginable table and articulate, “I literally held my arms over the textbooks to lean over to you..” 

“I just thought you were a bad listener.” Changmin smiles, bothered, like he always does.  

They both laugh. 

Another shine made by the sun outside draws with a ruler down the yellow wall. It has an angular cut in where it has a darker wooden frame just above the floor. Like the highlight is a window to the midsummers of one’s childhood; you dare to hold eyes open and watch. 

They used to sit at the dining table where the pattern cloth folds at your knees. Because you were way too shy to invite him behind your room door. Sometimes, laughs loud enough for them to hear came from the living room where both their mom’s sat. Mostly they whispered; never understood why. 

When they were younger, he was mostly intimidating. So much taller and just his glasses felt like a sign of great intelligence. But truly his personality held some sort of shine you believed was a leftover from some ancient spell along the yellow fields. 

With their families having dinner sometimes; the two of them used to play board or card games late into the afternoon when the adults still sat along the dinner table. You didn’t want to invite your brother when you finally had time to talk to Changmin without it being about math, but he was way too nice to leave him out. 

“Is your cat good?” Changmin asks suddenly, “Or is he dead?” He knits his eyebrows. 

“Yeah, he’s dead.” Smiles and thinks of how Scuba Steve, in his orange white complexion used to jump into Changmin’s lap while he was tutoring. And when he talked to him so sweetly and petted him along the long fur; her teenage self used to dream about their future (delusion). 

“It feels like he liked everyone more than me.” You admit while leaning into your palm. 

“I’m sure he liked you too.” He laughs. 

“Are you going to the beach party?” Changmin suddenly asks, “You’re close with Eric, right?” He knits his eyebrows, “Aren’t you together with Jaehyun too?” 

“No, no, no, I’m not with Jaehyun.” You fall back to the floor and hands melt down your face. 

“Don’t tell him I said that though.” You add, “But no, I’m not going.” 

“Why not?” 

Visions from the past weeks pass like a bad trailer and you close your eyes. Sunwoo and Eric run across the field in a sort of evangelical light and Hyunjae in the far corner.

You sort of lie, “It’s complicated. I don’t want to meet Eric.” 

Changmin stands up, “I’m only going if you do.” 

“Don’t do this.” You complain. 

“No, whatever’s going on, we’re fixing it now.” He takes your shoulder and forces you up. You whine again and try to make the weight fall back to Earth. 

“I’m fighting volleyball and you’re fighting Eric, great!” He cheers.

There was a lot more than Eric you had to fight this weekend. 

The ball goes flying in their direction again. It lands on Changmin’s head and forces his glasses to the floor. They both look to the right and see Juyeon stand awkwardly upright, hands hanging like leaves as he longs for the ball. 

“I missed.” He deadpan. 

You take the ball and look at Changmin. He smiles knowingly before you both rush at Juyeon. 

( friday, morning )

“Do you want some?” 

Your head turns to the right where the sun shines through the glass brighter. It ceases through the back of his loose strands like the tree crowns from summer camp. 

When you came down to the bus station, Changmin waved at you from a stack of backpacks piled like a mountain. Juyeon stood slightly behind and followed the shoerter’s movements. You asked them if they plan on moving with that; Changmin answered it was Juyeon’s and Eric’s bags. He had–while straightening his posture–just taken the necessary. 

When all had arrived, you got a third row seat at the back beside Sunwoo. You had met again on campus. It turned out between all those words that both were going to the party this weekend. You mentioned how you’re mainly here as Changmin’s emotional support.

Sunwoo– a little horrified– told you he’ll have eyes in the back of his neck for this trip. Hyunjae, Eric or anyone else for that matter could come up from behind and throw hsi poor body in the water. With both in desperate situations, they jokingly built a pact to have each other’s back on this trip. 

So when you sit beside Sunwoo, and look down the space created against the armrest where he reaches out a pink package. He shakes it and you smile before taking a hand off the backpack. 

“You stole my pocky?” 

Tearing away from that space; they look behind the red seat to see Eric leaned over the two. He pierces down at Sunwoo with a dumbfounded O of his lips and starts pointing at the roots of Sunwoo’s hair which he ducks away from. 

“I didn’t steal it.” He defends. 

“It’s mine, I bought it this morning.” Eric looks at you, begging for sympathy, “Now I have no snacks.” 

“You said you weren’t going to eat them.” Sunwoo hides them. 

“They’re mine!” Eric hangs down the seat. Immediately you take the edge of his sleeve as if he’ll fall on you. 

“You’re gonna eat them now?” Sunwoo taunts, “Take the jelly grapes.” He throws out a plastic package from his bag while still chewing. 

“Let’s split it.” Eric deadpans while holding out his palm. 

“I’ll buy you one later.” Sunwoo repeat. 

Eric laughs from above, “You literally just asked Y/n!” He points. 

Sunwoo gets quiet for a second; looks up et Eric, before back at Y/n. 

“Can’t you just eat the grapes?” He shakes the package up in Eric’s face. 

Feet fall back to the floor, the row behind them and Eric, still dumbfounded, points at Sunwoo while stunned searches for assent in you. 

“He’s shameless.” Eric sits down. 

Where the dense complexes only ends when shore starts, the bus ride isn’t long. Despite constant traffic, conversations over the unconscious roaring of the bus engine; you resisted the falling weight of eyelids but at last, gave in. The last minutes when blue hues start to form between the windows and houses lined up against the sand. Head falls onto Sunwoo’s shoulder. 

Changes surprises him, but just as immediately he gently falls back into his seat and your head comes between his neck like the last piece of a 100 puzzle. How could he describe the violent but gentle flutter that grows from a part in his chest and blooms into all directions. And when each stem leaves its youth and creates rosen petals at his fingertips; the playlist in his headphones changes song. 

A melody of 80s slow paced rhythm and a voice soft like silk; lies over the muted woven chorals and yellow of the beach houses. Tiny flowers in perfect composition, like a trail across each street and when he sees the roof of the largest beach houses, just below the shore; Sunwoo wishes the bus would take one more round. 

He dares to look down.  He has seen this image before. All those movie nights in the dining room at summer camp evening. When he rushed to take the seat beside you before anyone else. And towards the end of the long hour you couldn’t keep your eyes open and leaned just like now, on his shoulder. It’s been so long but it doesn’t feel like a season has passed since that summer when he sees your hand lightly touching his own. 

“You need sunscreen, Jaehyun!” You wave the blue plastic tube while slipping down the sand. Hyunjae looks over his shoulder, smirking questionably to her while you come closer. 

“You’ll get skin cancer.” You squint when the blue sky shines behind him. 

“You do it then.” He smiles. 

Holding hands above your eyes, hoping it’ll cease all rosen blushes, “I’m not your mom.” 

“Please, Y/n.” He shakes your forearms, pouting. At first your own hands come up to his chest to force him off, but retrites like touching a hot stove as he’s shirtless. 

“Okay, okay.”

Overarching sand, up to the wooden porch, frees from the rest when they walk up. Hyunjae quickly takes the lead when he jumps up on fixed ground and takes a seat on the edge of the porch. How he wiggle his legs like an excited child while smiling so brightly; you didn’t know he could. You fall to knees behind him and awkwardly look over his hair. 

“Can’t you just do it yourself?” Sun highlights his skin from above. The sharp points of his shoulders, down to his arms, seem soothing against the sharp sand. That specific smell of sunscreen, so deeply ingrained into summer, trace along the porch. Your palm hesitantly moves back and forth between the flexed spot of his shoulder. 

“Just do it, Angel.” Hyunjae looks back at you encouragingly, but you quickly lie the cold sunscreen on his skin to divert him. In the clear summer sun spotlight, your cheeks luminates of struck pink. 

“Ah, it’s cold.” Hyunjae’s shoulder rises up and you continue soothing it in one hand. 

“Don’t complain.” You try to sound normal. 

They got along more than you originally thought. Hesitant to calling people friends, but you guess that's what they are. Though, friends shouldn’t blush of nervousness from innocent touch, right? Especially when Hyunjae leans back further into your hand, and you wonder if it’s wrong. 

At the same time; Eric peeks from the doors to the beach house. He tries to convince himself he’s longingly looking at the open shore, but it’s merely a background to Hyunjae and you.

It’s not that you’re lying, he thinks. You looked more than authentic that day, he asked if they were together and you denied. It’s not a competition, but still he feels a burn coming from another direction than the sun when your hands go to his neck and Hyunjae laughs from tickling. 

“Y/n!” 

You turn from Hyunjae and see Eric coming closer. All that in one motion, you forgot about the painfully obvious red of your face. It isn’t until Eric’s eyes widens and he falls in height to take your left cheek. 

“You’ve burned yourself, Y/n.” Eric traces with his thumb the rose colors of your essence and  to feel it coming off your skin, embarrassingly paint your soul. At this point,  nervousness would leak out from your skin, but by Eric’s and Hyunjae’s wide eyes and open mouths; they’re completely oblivious to their work. 

“N-” Stuttering out the beginning of a no; you stop suddenly as there’s no good excuse for the color. 

“Let me help you.” Hyunjae reaches for the tube down the wood and you immediately try back from Eric’s gentle palms. 

“No, no, no, it’s just heat.” 

“Water.” Eric wants to get you on foot, take you to the kitchen. 

“You need a cold bath.” Hyunjae says quickly after and without looking at Eric takes you in bridal style. Hand lets go of Eric’s and he’s left standing as you in panic tries to convince Hyunjae to turn away from shore. Hyunjae laughs while shouting that you’ll overheat.

It’s a dark seemingly normal, but guilty jealousy Eric watches the older one throw his best friend down the water. You’re quick on your feet again, and start chasing Hyunjae further down. Laughs come from that side while Eric tears his eyes off the new waves; clench his fist because frustration might visibly leak out his skin, and turn back to the house to take his mind off. 

It was only a limited amount of sups, you shared one with Changmin. They had agreed to alt the paddle in interval, but it was you who ended up dragging them both along the surface while Chnagmin sat behind, criticizing the solo sups. 

His victim was mainly Juyeon who traversed the first ocean layer for a good minute playing God until he lost balance. The entire group laughed while he tried to climb up. At the same time Sunwoo laughed so hard he was second to fall in. 

Changmin did well, all things considered, when it was beach volleyball. Juyeon and you cheered on him. That brought him enough confidence to stand at the front. Which wasn’t his greatest moment as he fell head first into the net. 

Sun’s, fleetly asleep above the horizon. All those hours of shine still left like a memory in the sand while four of them still play, the rest swimming, taken a seat with the group who grills or in the house. Laughter with the waves collide, creating a divide of foam. Breeze ensues their hearts. 

It smells of garlic smoked marinade from behind once the ball comes over again. Though at first refusing to go, you’re still thankful for Changmin who desperately forced a game over either way. 

Soon there’s food and you sit on the porch once again. Sunset like a filter over the shore and its houses, maybe the heart too. 

“I have some for you.” 

You look up at who you thought was Eric, with a brightly printed paper plate, gathered of the same choices since childhood. But you blink once, realize it’s Sunwoo. He takes the space beside where only vague music accompanied earlier. 

“Oh, thank you, Sunwoo.” You smile and take the second plate. 

“No worries.” He bends down to eat a bite of his own food. 

A scenery in fleeting composition, scattered of dust passes through the peripheral. 

“I remember you used to take food to me back then too.” Unconscious of the tender light you hold while tracing the oil leaking across plastic shine. 

“Yeah,” He looks at his chicken, “Cause you were always busy sorting stones.” 

You scoff, “Why? You’re judging my hobbies?” 

“No,” He answer truthfully, “It was cute.” 

“My stones?” You tilt. 

“You.” 

Sunwoo’s voice is monotone like it wasn’t supposed to blemish your heart like the orange and dark blue sky divide. The bones across your shoulders and hover over chest convulse in like wings of the delighting butterflies. 

Sunwoo looks up from the food, “I don’t really remember how your stones looked.” 

You smile and take a bite, “I guess that’s why I married you back then.” 

Still confined between your own frame to prevent any sheer wings of escape; you miss how his ears perked up together with his horrible posture. Him in his sharp complexion becomes adorably curious. 

“You remember that?” He says surprised. 

“Of course.” She says as if it’s obvious. Sunwoo looks down at the sand as if to see the smitten reflection of his face in them. 

“I actually didn’t think you’d remember.” He says quietly. 

Another song on the playlist comes on and a group of people rush beside them. Jumping off the porch; their silhouettes darken in pink contrast as water evaporates on their burnt arms. 

Sunwoo dares to look to your side; still eating and it further reminds him of times in circles when they sat next to each other. Something absurd with seeing you again like this. For some nameless reason you have lived all these years as a little girl in his memories, constantly visiting when summer’s approaching. Now you're here, finally at the same age. 

He knows he shouldn’t advance, shouldn’t take a step closer on the porch. Since behind him just some meters further, Hyunjae sits. How adoringly he thinks of Hyunjae because he has you unconditionally by one side. 

“I remember you told me about the stars.” You suddenly say. 

Sunwoo looks at you then the skies, vaguely guilty that there's nothing's left to see yet.

He smiles,  “Damn, I can’t see them, otherwise I would’ve told you about them again.”

You hold head tilted at his side while his eyes still squint for a light away to hit them, “You can show me later.” 

 You don't know what has crawled into you lately, but it’s dependent and has zero abstinence. 

As if the hangover from last week wasn’t enough to convince you; you’re drunk once again (this time in the kitchen). Juyeon worriedly came over, asking if you’re always this bad with alcohol. In turn you took his shoulders dramatically and said no, shaking him. 

And you weren't the only one. In the same vein, at another window by the house; Eric found Sunwoo staring dead into the reflection. When asked what he was doing, Sunwoo simply replied he’s staring at bird shit and laughing like it was the funniest thing. 

Most people are still outside. Fairy lights might look like fireflies in this state as it cradles lightly from night weather. As people cross the sand it changes patterns. It lays a plastic cup further away which Eric runs to pick up. You don't know what song is playing when the high frame expands as walls in all directions, but you think it’s good. 

“Can you dance?” You look at Sunwoo. He turns confusingly with bad posture from the bird shit. An awkward beat drop passage muffled by the walls takes the silence. 

Suddenly you jump up to him in another rhythm than the beat. Smiles wholeheartedly while waving arms.

“I can’t.” You answer your own questions and do a spin. 

Sunwoo’s hangs down its sides like towels over the branches. You reflect in highlights by his porcelain eyes. He must look extremely out of it as the pupils can’t concentrate on the shifting lights and his amused smile. But you couldn’t tell. 

You force his tired arms up in an awkward rocking-back-and-forth swing. He laughs that his teeth show when you start complaining how he’s stiffer than the expensive couch behind them. 

“Let’s tango.” You take his arms and they start circling around the room with either hand on their shoulders and next in each other’s clasp, straight forward. Sunwoo’s laugh overpowers the music as they nearly collide with the couch. Through the window frame they must look like a middle school couple. 

And as if galactic alignment was truly divine; the next song on the playlist slows to a vintage soundtrack as if from an old romcom. They’re still laughing when the circles haste and all weight stills on the carpet lining. 

They’re so drunk, Sunwoo can’t hold himself when your face comes so close. 

“You know…” He starts. 

“No.” You deadpan.

“Don’t speak.” Sunwoo complains and you fall one step backwards from laughing. 

“You know, we’ve reached our 11th marriage anniversary.” He smiles drunkenly, “I think I deserve a kiss for surviving our long distance.” 

“You haven’t even shown me the stars yet.” You whine and curl his hand in a weird way. 

“I know, I know.” He screws his eyes, it looks like it hurts.

“Just give me a kiss and we’ll go outside.” He purses his lips out. 

“Can you even name the constellations still?” You knit your eyes. 

“Of course, there’s Little bear.” Sunwoo points at your nose. You contract your head and watch his finger tip with big eyes. 

“I’m actually a Capricorn.” 

Sunwoo’s lips curve harder as his head falls between the space created from their chests. You watch the root pattern of his hair before he comes up again. 

“You’re really cute.” He smiles. 

You can’t help clasp his hands and twine fingers even harder, “Really?” 

He nods that his fringe follows. 

“Am I cute too?” Sunwoo asks, leaning in.

You think, rolling your eyes slowly, “No.” 

He pouts with big eyes. 

“Again,” He flicks your nose lightly. 

“Me or the flowers?” Sunwoo points at a vase beside the couch. You turn over your shoulder to see the arrangement of pink blemishes with white roots. 

You pretend to think, “Hmm.” 

There’s a anticipation like a butterfly on the last leaf, flickering its sheer patterned wings before taking off. Just like that, it pulses of thousand wings in both your hearts. All as Sunwoo lean in closer. Fingers laced through the other like silk and he pulls you closer by them. When the heat accumulated in the chests collide, with your lips merely touching his own. The tension weighs heavy, it might impend on the room. 

The door from the kitchen beside them forces open. 

Both Sunwoo and you loosen the lace and throw yourself onto the couch. A painful thud erupts from the back rest when Sunwoo crashes nape first. Your condition is in dangerous state, therefore you land about 10 centimeters too short and glide off the couch to the floor. 

When the outer door closes and Eric passes by the frame, he sees Sunwoo decked out; arms hanging lifelessly and his mouth opened, supported by the backrest. 

The cup in his hand nearly topples over when he rushes to stand it on any flat surface. It pulses through the floor when Eric comes down to you. A cold hand from all the ice soothes your forehead and you look up to see Eric’s fringe like a sheer curtain before his eyes. 

“You’re okay?” He asks worriedly, “How much have you drunk?” 

Eric takes your arm and scolds you gently. As you stand up you incoherently try to defend yourself, but quit abruptly as Sunwoo comes into the story. 

Eric guided you up to the bedroom’s at second floor, leaving Sunwoo to die. 

“Eric?” You lie down. 

“Mm?” He flatten out the sheet above you. 

“I forgot.” 

Eric snorts, “Really?” 

“Mm.” You insist. 

Two essence divided between the mattress line in the mit; still staring at the same ceiling. Eric never leaves your side; instead insists on talking about nothing and everything while time wraps in a 4th dimension of one's mind until you can’t rhetorically answer “Mm?”. 

Eric finally ceases to babble when shifting his head to your side. The pillows bud like a flower on his cheek when his body completely draws to your field. He knows you will probably feel like shit tomorrow morning, but for now you lie neatly above the creases like white flower of a heaven’s cross field. 

The incredible magnetic field of your essence seems to draw in more admirers than just himself, Eric understands. He barely convinces himself that the letter is an eventual sign of their destined love, but just barely. 

I can’t know who you dream about as you sleep soundly right now, he thinks while admiring. A face or two flashes before him and Eric sits up. Quietly look at the framed picture on the wall before back down at you. 

For now, he’s in denial. 

Eric takes one hand off your side to lay on your stomach. His bare fingertips dare to soothe out nothing’s on the cheek just to feel your warmth. He hesitates for a second, but before fully walking off the bed and closing the door; he bends down to kiss your cheek, just gently. 

06 . CHAPTER SIX 

( monday, midday )

The day has finally come–or not come as in an anticipated date set in stone from the past–rather Hyunjae woke up and felt courage. The last weeks they’ve seen each other nearly every afternoon, and for each time he imagines himself having persuaded you a little closer. And the last beach party seems to have been the silver lining for his confidence to finally confess how he feels. 

This afternoon they will meet on the track field for some regular training, but what you don't know is that he will be asking you to be his girlfriend, seriously this time. 

Though, between the lecture times, staring at strangers from the row tables; he consciously realized he doesn’t quite know what you like. Or of course, he knows you like astrology, biology, cat’s, exercising but just enough that you can walk guilt free home to the bed. That you always walk around with a first aid kit, and like a mother bandage burnt skin or wrecked ankles. 

But none of that is of use when your heart is supposed to flutter at his mere sight this afternoon. 

So at a table in the cafeteria; Hyunjae takes the opposite chair of a round table where Eric sits alone. Enticed in his own world; he jumps when the chair creaks of his weight. 

Hyunjae figured it was just to ask Eric, your best friend for advice. The older may stand a ruler inferior in emotion to Eric than Juyeon, but nonetheless they have spent many house parties together, jumping off the high roof or throwing pillows at the third. 

Eric always looks at him with a smile, nearly identical to his own. But right now, the red blisters' contours wave lower than what it usually does. His eyes adverts between the sad glass divide over the sandwiches and Hyunjae. But the older forces it in an identical manner to the left. 

Eric nonchalantly told him he doesn’t know what you would romantically like from him. Hyunjae complained saying he should know since they’re best friends, but Eric reiterates his line, “Yeah, just friends.” 

Hyunjae doesn’t cease from the chair, neither his voice. Eric looks at the sandwiches again and guilty bruises his fingers underneath the table. In Eric’s eyes; Hyunjae could win over anyone by just slowly articulate every crook of their name. 

It’s not to admit that he’s threatened, Eric thinks. To rationalize the frustration he theorize Hyunjae hasn’t taken enough of a time to get to know you. 

Eric’s never been evil. His moral compass holds him on the sane lane; even when emotions begs to pull the other way. But right now, while in silence, the magnetic field of the Earth pulls on the arrows. 

“Okay.” Eric puts down the drink. Hyunjae leans in attentively. 

“She wants a big, HUUGE confession. You know, those in rom coms where the guy comes out with a huge boombox and gives her flowers and has a big sign.” Eric takes his arms up in the, above his chest in height with his hair. To visually stun him he waves his hands down like confetti and shakes a hypothetical boombox. All while Hyunjae’s expression all visually gets more nervous.

“Okay.” He walks up without looking at Eric. Head deep down the floor as if thinking. 

( monday, afternoon )

The white streaks wrapped as a present lining across the field is the same as every time he walks past. But even when the scenery is familiar to his conscious, the heart anxiously breathes in quick patterns. It causes invincible scratches at the inner side of his hands while his eyes can’t hold a scene for longer than a second. There’s a couple walking past the fields down the west campus; Hyunjae’s head follows them until their backs are a mere blemish along the sidewalk. 

With his hand tightly knitted behind his back he looks at the grass growing up from under his shoes. Suddenly he looks up again. 

Like the world just ended; the sun’s growing, tearing all the accessible and it rounds the golden halo. You’re just left in trance watching how it all beautifully collapses. That’s what your presence does to his troubled heart when your upper body comes up the staircase. 

You wave with your free hand as you see him at the center of the rectangular land. Hyunjae doesn’t mirror it, instead refuses to change any position. You tilt your head in wonder for a moment, but nonetheless carry on towards his figure, until there’s just a meter across. 

“Hi, Jaehyun.” You say gently. 

“Hi, Y/n.” He shifts his head so that a part of hsi fringe falls forward. 

You turn to see his side profile, as if he’s sick. With concerned woven shape of your face, you ask, “Are you okay?” 

An awkward tenderness in his fronting psyche. To touch his shoulder might cause it to splinter in its frozen preserved state. Hyunjae clasps his hands that’s still behind; gaze your face as if though you were the first he’s ever seen. 

Silence insists to frustratingly exist after your question. 

When a scene of the entire world, flipped in your eye; he breathes in and falls with one to the grass. His hand trails as if cold to the pocket and takes out his phone, turning the speaker outlet in your higher direction. 

“Will you make me the happiest man in the world, Y/n?” 

A bouquet in pastel silk tightly concealed in a ribbon of a darker shade. 

“Hold on.” Hyunjae drops the mobile to the ground; the music practically disappears as it swallows by the grass. 

All eyes on the thin space of his front pocket as he struggles to let loose the bits of red paper. At last some gather in his palm and he throws it up in the air as enthusiastically one can without a canon. The flowers now fully extended as the last bits of craft paper adorn his head. 

A sore spot on his left knee aches under this weight. The teeth of his smile, slowly together as he bear witness to your expression, blinking cause your lips are opened but stunned. Though he can’t read good or horrible. As he starts tilting from instability he clenches the flowers tightly. 

“I didn’t find a boombox, and the party store was closed.” Hyunjae looks behind you instead of up. Embarrassingly wonder if you would have wanted a grand confession in the college cafeteria. He won’t say it, but in all honesty he didn’t have the guts for that. 

It feels like you’ve seen this scene before; in some movie lost to time, you’re sure it has crossed you once. The sad petals taken by the wind, fallen on his shoulders or thread beneath your feet. But still might be the most soft of all thousand interactions of your life. 

Hyunjae seems embarrassed, you can’t fully tell; he looks at you from passages but sways towards the right at the end. How the past and present crashes at once to see him fully and clearly without cover. He’s such a vision that this should flutter all the lonely parts in the arch marrow body, but nothing goes off. 

It’s like standing on the fourth of may, but no fireworks light up. 

You finally smile gently, still eyes on Hyunjae. His expression waits for even a whisper, but instead a hand crosses between the fragile space. Yours takes his wrists, behind where the fingers cross the stems. Gently tugging him up from the grass as the last bits of paper rock down his shoulders. 

“It’s really lovely, Jaehyun.” You smile and he’s finally up. 

The space opens again. 

“But I can’t.” You look at him as both lips synchronize withers. 

“I’m sorry.” 

A heavy wind brushes past; lies a weight on your hearts. Hyunjae, who has never once been the one pushed away, hears lone footsteps echo in the boned structure. It’s a bit embarrassing, it’s a bit sad; he feels like he maybe shouldn’t have said anything. 

You see in full vision how his mind travels elsewhere. Still with flowers and the barely audible mobile that now has changed track to a mellow love song of 80s nostalgia. How depressing everything suddenly became. 

“I still like you, Jaehyun,” You break the silence, “You were honestly a lot nicer than I originally thought.” 

He looks up. 

You smile weakly, “When I saw you on campus I thought you flirted with every woman and acted all big.” You gesture with your shoulders and Hyunjae laughs slightly. 

“But you’re actually very kind.” 

He reaches out the flowers once again. You look up at him with eyes, x-ed expression. 

“It’s still your flowers, I want you to have them.” He says gently. 

You hesitate but he shakes them in front of you. Once loosen on the tensioned shoulders; you take one hand out for the stems and look at them closely. Deeply pink with faded inner circles. 

( wednesday, afternoon ) 

That table at the cafeteria where they always meet has been occupied two days in a row. You come by between classes and yearn through the window, but at last; there’s always a shirt in a color Eric wouldn’t wear sitting in his place. 

At the changing distance through the evening, at the lone table beside your bed; all those papers in painful yellow highlight, tire sore eyes and vision yearns for the computer at the other side. Watch the letter box they communicate through everyday, but is now quiet. 

You’ve messaged Sunwoo through facebook; asked him why Eric ceased from Earth. He answered through digital letters that he’s busy, but truthfully Sunwoo knows better than anyone Eric scatters to avoid you. Eric won’t fully admit why; the closest to a confession Sunwoo got was a bleak understanding of inner guilt over something. 

“You’re sad.” 

You turn to the left where Juyeon sits with curious eyes before the library shelves. Side by side at the communal computers; he has watched you stare at the search page for four minutes without intervention. 

“Do you want to go and see the cats?” He asks gently. 

You sink down on the table. Hands curl up at the keyboard while the wooden surface catches your chin. 

“No, but thank you, Juyeon.” You say tired. 

“Is it Eric?” He asks, leaning down. 

You nod. 

“I don’t want to hurt him, I’m afraid we won’t be friends anymore.” You pause, “I don’t want to hurt anyone else.” 

“You should tell him that.” Changmin peaks from behind the computer, opposite you and Juyeon. 

“Honesty is always valued.” 

“You know, whatever it is..” Juyeon speaks from the right side, “at least having it said will lift the weight off. You have an assignment next week, right?” Juyeon points at the screen. 

“Eric would make fun of you for worrying about boys instead of studying.” 

You smile weakly. 

07 . FINAL CHAPTER 

( saturday, evening ) 

Edges of sharp stone scratches against your old bicycle. Those few streetlights with meters in between emits across the gravel. On the path from your old house, it was quiet like it always is in family neighbourhoods. But as you come closer to Eric’s old house; ruptures in form of music and laughter leak out the open windows. 

You had to stay longer in the library working. Time passed like it never does when one’s bored, and suddenly you had missed the first train and waited for the other. It isn’t too far out your old neighbourhood, just a few stations that with each passing minute gets dimmer and dimmer because of lack of lining lamps. 

Running the last passage to your front door to take the bike, and now you’re standing at his post. The same sign that hangs on the door, rusted of all year’s weather, intimidates you serenely. 

At last, with one foot you force down the supporting metal where all other bikes stand. Close eyes on the handle while the laughter is still muted. 

It has never felt so hard knocking on his door. 

The blurred window at the roof of the door; you stare at it when finally knocking. Anticipation hugs your knees painfully as you take a step back. Look at all places except the white door. Drag your hands along the clothing fabrics as if it’ll obscure you. 

Speakers frees from the door while you feel like running towards the woods. 

“Welcome in!” 

You don't recognize the man holding this door you’ve walked through since five. His expression contrasts your neutral one. There’s a red cup in his hand, he asks if you want some; you thank him, but reject. 

As you come in line with each other through the hallway with mountains of shoes, you look at his back, insecure, before speaking. 

“Do you know where Eric is?” 

He turns, “Hmm..” Scratching his nape and leaning toward the opening frames of all the different rooms. 

“I think he’s in the living room?” The guy points further into the apartment, you thank him. 

Despite all open windows and meters of space; the air is horribly suffocating. People sit two and two, talk in five’s, and a path like pattern goes through the crowd. You let it take you, hoping it somehow brings you to Eric. 

Your feet, that still have shoes on, cease to motion diagonally towards a large couch group. Between all those mere strange faces you’ve may seen once; a face so deeply dissected and remade sits in between. He’s at the center like the sun itself, and people gravitate towards him. 

Somehow you would go back to your corner, sink down quietly. But you’ve been running for too long. Hand behind your back, wrists rope tied while your conscious threats to slaughter from behind, push you forward. 

“Eric?” You say above the laughter, and his couch group turns towards you. 

You swallow when his expression changes to something calmly unreadable, “I need to talk to you.” 

A filter falls like a sheer cover of snow when he closes the door. They’re alone behind the house, blue illumination like an upside down universe highlights you from below. Neither Eric or you had said something, but it wasn’t noticeable until the world ran out of sound too. 

Eric’s silhouette leaves your side and sits by the edge of the pool. With his barefoots into the galactic mirror, his face shades and colors like the moon. You too walk to the edge, sit by his side and see his legs make waves throughout the water. 

He’s unfamiliarly quiet; similar to when you know something someone else doesn’t. 

“I think I like someone, Eric.” You say gently without wasting. 

He looks at you, soft and tender, “You do?” He smiles. 

You smile too and nod. 

His feet make water soar before becoming whole again. Your fingers tear at the concrete lining the pool. 

“...and I’m not sure he likes me back…therefore it can’t be you.” 

Heavy silence like the Universe itself weighs over them. World’s full of life, yet there’s an empty echo in the marrow arch of your cathedral body. 

Eric gazes at the transparent surface of the water, smiling weakly because it’s the only thing right to do.

“Though, I still love you, Eric.” You lean towards his shoulder. Tear his side profile like you beg it is not the last time you see it. 

“So much as you can possibly love someone, and a little more.” 

He looks up, fringe falling, “It’s okay, I know.” 

Voice fragile, so heartbreaking against the smile that could light up the entirety of the solar system. He’s like the pool beneath, a galactic universe tightly compacted into a pond. 

His mere existence makes your eyes glisten and words frail, “I’m sorry.” You whisper.

He smiles and takes your wrist, “Why are you saying sorry, princess.” 

They both sit there for a moment. The constellations pass a centimeter above the bended celestial before you walk up. Half disappear behind the wall while Eric is left at the pool edge. You can’t bring yourself to leave; having one eye on his back as if it'll fall when you go. 

Eric looks back to your wall suddenly, like he knows. 

“I’m sorry.” You say it again, nails exhaustingly tearing at the house. 

Eric shakes his head, waving you off gently before speaking quietly, “Go get your prince.” 

Stones shatter beneath the weight of two tires. All houses are drowned in nightshade glistens of warm lighted windows like the stars above, that is childhood. 

Grass divided into squares lined with fences; streamline, down the gravel path until it opens up in a wide circle. You know this place because here’s where everyone always met. 

All those gravel paths, identical to the one you just left maze down to a grass circle. The very heart of all these houses, a meter lower than the rest. You pass the path contouring it and all these strokes of green nature hinders you down. You stop with one foot off the pedal and lean your weight while standing up. 

Where all distance creates a perfect cross; a boy much familiar to you lies. His own bicycle stranded a meter or two from his still body. Laying on his back with his head tilted on its forearms. Sunwoo’s completely still like midnight around him. It calms you just how water drains from head down after sunshine, but heart tears at its veins. 

You found him. 

To let go of the bicycle; forcing down the metal to leave it standing. Eventually you walk towards him, slowly as if you’ll scare him away. 

About three meters from his feet; Sunwoo suddenly looks away from the star fields and up to you. 

“Oh, hi Y/n.” He says like he always does. 

You cease to stop, “Hi, Sunwoo.” 

He can’t quite place why you’re here. You seem to come up in unexpected moments; take him by heart like a sudden season though he’s been admiring the trees for an eternity. It begins with your hair; how it seemingly floods down on your shoulders. Just like the jewel reflection like glitter under your eyes . 

“You’re crying?”

You’re taken back by his question; taking a hand to the cold skin beneath your vision. Liquid dried tight to your complexion.  

“It’s a long story,” You stutter; head turns to the ground before your expression becomes decrepit, but poetical. 

“I’ll tell you later.” 

After silence, you sigh; lending a bit of your worry to Earth. All the heavy mountains, all heavy oceans.

You start, “I have something to tell you.” 

Grass stands in between his fingers when they lie flat against the ground. Sunwoo forces himself up while observing your expression. You neither walk closer or further; chin falling in patterns as pupils pierce onto the sight behind him or the grass beneath his feet. Only in mere passages eye contact lasts. 

You open your mouth to speak, but realize you have a bad habit of coating everything in a thin layer of sugar as if feeding your words to a child. But there’s a certain bitter aftertaste in being honest. 

“I love you, Sunwoo.” The words free from a deep part within. Tears off the inner skin and momentarily aches the body cathedral. He doesn’t say anything. Sitting in place, whether it’s of shock or horror, one can’t tell. To expand the details of his expression, but there’s always two possibilities to his wide eyes and space between lips. Hurriedly you continue. 

“I really like you Sunwoo, I’m sorry.” You look down to the left, “I just needed to say it.” You open your arms, not like a hug, rather an impediment. 

“So do what you want, Sunwoo.” You breathe in heavily while searching for the world reflected in his window. 

“Just break my heart if that’s what you have to, please, just–” 

“I love you too.” 

“...do–what?” Your arms fall to their sides and the pupil without dimensions expands across the pearl, reaching the far edge of its colorization. 

“I love you too.” He stutters more this time. 

Every cosmic mass bulging on your shoulders and tearing your back convulses from behind. It like everything eventually does; changes form and frees for the roof without limit. It has compressed your lungs into tiny pulses, you didn’t even notice. Yet the milky way’s worth of celestial bodies frees from you; only eyelids show movement. 

You breathe heavily while looking at Sunwoo with parted lips. He looks just as cosmically affected as you. 

“But aren’t you together with Jaehyun?” He suddenly says. 

You’re quiet for a second before bursting out in laughter. 

“No…no.” You take your hands up before your chest and smile “You’re still there?” 

Sunwoo’s still crossed brow of confusion. Neither laughing nor speaking. 

“I was his fake girlfriend for the parties, but we’re not like that.” 

You pause. 

“We could never be like that…” You hold your arms behind your back, titling your head when a star aligns with his position. 

“Not when you exist.” 

He admires you deeply in the same way, one layer below. Knees have come up to his chin and he hugs them slightly while hypnotized following the last season’s breeze across your face. 

You’re not sure what is supposed to happen now. But truthfully, you could live adoring the opposite like this for an eternity longer. 

Though, Sunwoo has other plans. 

The surface of his shoes bend down the grass as he stands. The last meters dying to collapse cease from existence; all before you even lift your head from your shoulder. Just as your eyes widen he’s against you gently. Sheer touch of his fingers across your lower face before he tilts. At last you touch and love-soul bitten sensations fill two hearts. 

You look at him again after the kiss; his face so beautiful you believe he could overthrow the world. 

© littleroaes, written and all

a/ n : i kind of broke my own heart by writing reader and juyeon just being friends 😭 it took all my will power

love spectrum spoiler

have flirty/ cute dynamic in the beginning but becomes friends : juyeon, changmin

romantic storylines but do not end up with : eric, hyunjae

end game : sunwoo

tagging : @darcymariebraun-blog @sungbeam @tbzhub @sanaxo-o

[redtsundere-writes]

Ride or Die | Sukuna Ryomen

big brother!sukuna ryomen x f!reader Sypnosis: Your troublemaker bestie, Yuuji, gets into a fight, so you had to call his big brother, Sukuna, to rescue both. Contents: Yuuji and you are 18. Sukuna is 19. High school/Modern AU. Friends to lovers. “Who did this to you?” vibes. SMUT. MDNI. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Warnings: Depictions of violence and animal abuse. Word Count: Author's Note: Thanks for helping me pick which fic to write first on my last poll! I hope you guys like it! :3

Sukuna likes you. Yeah, yeah… His ego is so up his ass that he can’t confess his feelings towards you, we all know that. I mean, you are gorgeous, smart, and kind, how could Sukuna not fall in love with you? There’s a problem, though. A pink-haired, stubborn and over-friendly problem. You were Yuuji’s best friend. His little brother’s best friend.

Sukuna knew that Itadori had a big crush on you because you two were inseparable. If he fell for you when you first met, Itadori definitely fell harder. Sukuna knew it by the way his lil bro smiled, giggled and focused on you every time you hang around. Sukuna could be a player, but he wasn’t Mr. Steal-Your-Girl.

One day, Sukuna was taking a nap after work. He was well off until he heard his phone ringing. He picked it and the sleepiness went away once he saw your name lighting on the screen. This was unusual. You sometimes text each other, but the conversation always revolves in Yuuji’s location or well-being. You never called him because you knew how snarky he can be, so you always decided to text him. Naturally, he picked up quickly.

“Yuuji is getting his ass beat! Please, come!” You begged through the phone. That was enough for Sukuna to jump out of the couch and pick his car keys.

Yuuji was always in some kind of trouble. He wasn’t a bad boy, he was more of an avenger. He didn’t want to understand that bad guys just exist in our society without consequences. Yuuji always felt the need to do something about it. He was damn good at fighting, so he used that to give out justice. He usually never needs help kicking ass, but this time it was different.

Yuuji and you were hanging out in a park after classes as usual. Yuuji saw a group of evil guys kicking around a starving dog, so he had to do something about it. The pink fury rushed to punch every single one of them. The thing that Yuuji didn’t count on was that he was out numbered. It was a 5 vs. 1 fight, obviously he couldn’t take them all. You called Sukuna when you saw your friend struggling.

Sukuna drove to the location you sent him, and he saw red once he saw the scene. Yuuji and you were being kicked on the ground by the five guys. You were covering your head with your arms in fetal mode. Don’t worry, the poor dog escaped once he could. You tried to stop them a couple of times, but you were thrown back to the ground. Sukuna didn’t hesitate to jump in and starting knocking out high schoolers.

Sukuna spit on the pile of dipshits once he finished the job. “I hate dealing with kids” he groaned, even thought he is just a year older. Sukuna kneel by your side to help you stand up. You were covered in dirt, bruises, and shame. He kept asking you if everything move correctly as you stood up, holding you by under your elbows. Sukuna was still shaking in anger but tried to stay calm.

“What the fuck you were thinking?! You can’t just start fights for damn dogs like that!” Sukuna screamed at Yuuji once all of you got in the car.

“But they were kicking the poor doggy!” Yuuji screamed back. You were just staying still on the backseat.

“I don’t give a shit about the reason! Y/n’s safety is your priority every time you hang out! Fight whoever you want alone, but when she is around, no fighting! Do you hear me, little shit?” He asked, furious. Yuuji looked briefly at how hurt you ended up. He hates to admit it, but his big bro was right. He save a dog but put you in risk instead. Yuuji nodded in understanding and Sukuna started the engine.

Sukuna drove you to their house. After getting his bruises treated, Yuuji went straight to his room to sleep off the pain. You were left alone with Sukuna. This wasn’t the first time. When Sukuna was still a senior in high school, you used to hang out with both siblings often. Sometimes you ate at McDonald’s with both, other times you would just study with Yuuji alone, and a few times you would walk home with Sukuna.

Sukuna tapped the top of the kitchen counter so he could treat your bruises. You obeyed and let him do his thing. He asked you how you were doing in your senior year, and you asked him how he was doing at his job as a guard at a local club. It was a while since you two talked alone.

Maybe you were used to hanging out alone, but you weren’t used to feeling each other so close. Sukuna was in awe while rubbing your smooth and tender skin with the ointment. He never thought of feeling you in this way. It was a bummer that the first time touching you so tenderly was in a situation like this.

“Do you like Yuuji?” he asked boldly while rubbing ointment in your arm. You blushed upon the sudden question.

“Why would you ask that?” you asked, confused.

“I always wondered if you and Yuuji were just friends, you know, since you are always together” Sukuna asked without making eye contact with you. Not because he was focused on treating you, but because he was too afraid of your answer. You felt so good under his touch, he didn’t want to hear that your heart belong to his little brother.

“We are always together because he needs backup sometimes. We are just ride or die, like you and I” Sukuna paused for a second and looked up at you after hearing that statement.

“We are?” He smirked.

“Duh. I’m always there when you need me, and you are there for me” You explained. Sukuna grabbed some more ointment and rubbed a bruise on your thigh. He used the opportunity to knead your whole thigh with his big hand.

“For anything I need?” He asked in a seductive purr. Sukuna grabbed both of your thighs and slowly started to split them. You blushed after deducing what he wanted from you.

“Anything” You declared before taking a leap of faith. You took his face in your hands and kissed him. He felt like he was melting under your touch. He was a living fire, and you were the only one who could extinguish it.

We know Sukuna was crazy for you, but he didn’t want to admit it. He wasn't the only one, though. You were crazier for him. Yeah, you like to hang out with Yuuji, but you loved being alone with Sukuna. He was a player and a bad boy during high school, but you noticed he was nice only with you. He would buy you drinks out of nowhere, walk you home when Yuuji couldn’t and recommend you bands you might like. For the longest time, you thought that he only did those things because you were Yuuji’s best friend.

Now, that Sukuna was sticking his tongue inside your mouth while rubbing your pussy over your panties, you knew how liked you back. Maybe not for a serious relationship, but you didn’t give a damn right now. He made you feel so good, like no one has ever before.

Sukuna was drifting into madness every time your knee brushed past his pumping bulge. His dick just wanted to rip his pants so he could be felt by you. Sukuna pulled you closer by your thighs while devouring your lips desperately. You pushed yourself closer to him to wrap your arms around his neck and pushed your breast on his chest.

Sukuna pulled your underwear to the side to finger you good. You let out a moan but stopped once you remembered that Yuuji was on his room, and you were openly getting finger fucked in the kitchen by his older brother. Sukuna noticed that, and he challenged himself to make you moan his name out loud. You bit your lower lip to restrain yourself, but his long fingers reaching your deep end made it really difficult to do so.

“Fuck, you are so damn wet” he whispered on your ear while rubbing your wet clit in circles. You tried to close your thighs, but Sukuna made sure to keep them open for them.

“Sukuna, I want you in so bad” you moaned as low as you could. Sukuna didn’t need another queue to pull his cock out. It was big, a throbbing. Sukuna dreamed about this moment since Yuuji presented you. He couldn’t stop looking at your beautiful face, your plump thighs and adorable breasts.

He carefully put your panties to the side and stuck his dick inside of you. You both moan in a whisper once he slowly pushed all the way in. He started thrusting slowly to make sure to not hurt you more with all those bruises. He was moving slow but still passionate, making sure you could feel every inch of his thick cock.

Your toes curled every time Sukuna thrust in you. He felt better than you thought. You hide your face in the crook of his neck and bite his shoulder to stay quiet. “You are so fucking tight, bestie” he groaned under his breath.

His thrusts speed up once Sukuna made sure he wasn’t hurting you. He pulled your legs up so he could dig deeper in your insides. You covered your face with your arm and just take it like a big girl. “Oh Sukuna I can’t take it any longer” you whispered.

“I am about to cum too, baby” Sukuna grunted before orgasm at the same time. His thick milk swayed in your insides. You smacked his chest as a scold. “Sukuna, what the fuck!” you muffle.

“I’m sorry, it’s not my fault you felt so good” he smirked. After cleaning you and himself up, he drove to the closest pharmacy to buy Plan B.

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Masterlist.

[silaslich]

Could you plz write more Ghost x amab!reader (maybe some angst and internalised homophobia/catholic guilt?) I just read your recent fic and its so good!!??? Its so difficult finding any x male!reader stuff </3

Firstly- thank you for the love on the last ghostxm!reader fic! It was very therapeutic to write I can’t lie. Secondly- I hope I did this justice as I know it’s going to be sensitive and sorry that it’s so short for this reason! Ily <3

Tw - internalised homophobia, religious guilt, 18+, blowjob, homophobia [parental+peers]

There’s that everlasting fight between your head and your heart. Knowing how you feel but also knowing how others want you to feel.

Pretending had been easier when you were younger. There had been the absence of those awkward questions over the dinner table when family visited or the knowing looks people gave you when everyone was around for the holidays.

You had always thought you were so solid in your beliefs when you were a kid. Attending Sunday school and church summer camps; wearing a cross around your neck and never taking it off no matter how much your mum told you to because it would tarnish.

Every night you’d kneel at your bedside and place your hands together, muttering as you closed your eyes tightly. Praying for happiness and health for yourself and your family.

You’re kneeling by your bed still- but instead of being pressed together in prayer your hands are braced against Simon’s thighs, tears stinging your eyes as he fucks his cock into the wet-warmth of your mouth. You gag around the girth of him, listening as he slurs your name. Part of you feels the way your stomach blooms with need, a deep rooted craving to be ruined at the hands of this man; the other part of you recognises the shame that strums away in your chest- ever present.

He leans forward to brush his thumb over your cheek, feeling where his cock sits through your skin. You have to squeeze your eyes shut, not wanting to catch the look in his eyes. He hisses through his teeth when you press your tongue along the underside of him, taking him further into your throat. It’s a reoccurring thing - drawn into him only to wish the time away. If Simon’s noticed he hasn’t said a thing. You’re not sure that he would but either way you’re grateful of it.

Simon cums in your mouth and makes a show of watching you swallow it, you preen at his praise and he smothers his mouth to yours. You still in his hold when he tries to pull you into him, into your bed. His eyes dart across your face, reading your expression and his face falls; he lets go of you completely and you can’t even look at him anymore.

It often ends like this. Cut short for no apparent reason. Whether it’s wrong or right- you can’t help it. There’s no explaining it on your behalf, not really. Even if you know, you don’t want to admit it to yourself. That would make it real, it would prove everyone right and your pride couldn’t take that kind of hit.

It takes you back to being fourteen again. Wondering why something feels off. Confused as to why your friends are giddy and sheepish when they tell you about a girl they fancy. You’d never really thought about it. It takes another year before you finally understand. Watching as a boy in the year above you plays rugby out on the school field, covered in mud and sweat and looking different that he had done just yesterday. Thats the first time you’d understood your friends, but it was a real life horror when you learnt that it wasn’t normal to feel that same giddiness about a boy. You had been foolish to let it slip, to tell your friends about your crush when they were telling you about theirs. They’d laughed and laughed until tears sprung their eyes - and then they’d jumped you outside of the school gates as soon as it came to home time. You’d limped home with a cracked tooth and a swollen face, expecting your mother to clean your wounds and tell you it would all be okay- she didn’t. Instead she shut you out. Told you that you were no son of hers. She’d been in utter denial for years, as had your father. He’s confused. It’s a phase. He doesn’t know what he’s saying. He’s just trying to be defiant he’ll grow out of it. God will help cure him honey. Let’s pray.

You lay staring at the ceiling. Replaying their voices over and over again in your head. It’s all you can hear when you look at Simon. Their taunting voices about your confusion and your faith. They told you how God wouldn’t follow you down this path you were treading, that all you had to do is beg for his forgiveness and repent. Horseshit.

The cross laying on your chest feels as though it burns, despite it all, you hadn’t taken it off. Perhaps it’s because you still believe in God, even though you don’t pray or go to church you still believe in some divine power of some sort - even if it’s just a little bit. It’s that little bit of hope that you know you’re doing the right thing. That no matter who you’ve lost along the way, you’ve found yourself.

You suppose you can’t be mad at people for not understanding. Even if they’re the ones who should love you through anything and everything - you can’t be mad at them for trusting what they know more than what they’re afraid of. Because that’s what it is. They’re scared that you’ll go to hell, that your sexuality defines your worth and whether or not you’ll reach those pearly gates. The thought makes you scoff, because it sounds ridiculous, you suppose you think that because you’re not exactly a believer. How can you believe in a God that would abandon you for the simple reason of loving someone?

It sparks something in your chest. It spreads like wildfire until it crawls up your throat- suffocating you.

There’s suddenly rapid knocking at Simon’s door and it startles him awake, he’s a light sleeper as it is. Simon reaches the door quickly and before the door is even open fully you’re on him. Smothering your lips to his. He’s frigid for all of three seconds before his fingers are rooted in your flesh. Curling into your clothes and pulling you closer.

Beliefs and beloveds be damned. If God abandons you, there’s no chance that Simon Riley will.

[tiredfox64]

I was wondering if you could write about Smoke and the reader have already been married and they have kids of their own (2 or 3) and Kuai Liang and Harumi decided to give them a break by watching the kids while Tomas and the reader go on a date night and when they come back they see Kaui Liang and Harumi look exhausted and lost while the kids are being rambunctious? Lol

Never Again, Not Even for Cake

Prior notes: I’ve babysat my niece once. I ended up telling my fiancé my baby fever was gone. Still looking for it. (I’ll get to the other requests soon)

Pairing: Tomas x Afab reader

Warnings ‼️: A child (no)

Ah yes, life’s pleasures. Fall in love, get married, have yourself a little family, the good stuff. Ah but hey, did anyone tell you have difficult kids could be?

Well, Tomas was a child once, but that doesn’t help. You did come from a large family, that helps. It was like living with bunnies. Even if you were the youngest there was always a cousin, niece, or nephew to help with. So you got the hang of this.

The first were a pair of twins, god help you. Two rambunctious boys who went behind their father’s back and learned smoke magic themselves. They aren’t skilled but they like to use it for pranks. And when they turned five, what do you think happened? That’s right! You fell pregnant again! This time with a baby girl.

So now you and Tomas have a family with a pair of six year old twins and a one year old baby girl. Take a guess, when was the last time you ever caught a break? Long time ago. That’s why Kuai Liang and Harumi stepped up and decided to babysit. That’s what good godparents do. You were a little skeptical since you never really knew how good they were with kids. But they constantly said it won’t be bad, you two need a break, you guys haven’t had a date in a while, etcétera etcétera. You caved, now the lovely couple stands in your home, ready to babysit.

“Are you sure you two can do this? You do realize the twins are sneaky? The little one found out she can grab things now.” You kept blabbering and Tomas had to reassure you.

“My love, I’m sure they will be fine. Kuai Liang helped raise me so I’m sure he can deal with the boys.”

“But-“

“We know the milk is in the fridge we just need to warm it up. She is teething so there are frozen teething toys in the freezer. The boys will eat anything and they like to sit down to watch Power Rangers.” Harumi quickly shut you down by going over some of the key points you told them.

“I still don’t think your use of the television is a great idea when calming the boys down.” Kuai Liang critiqued as if he has any say.

“It’s just a tv, Kuai Liang. Other parents do worse you have no idea.” You snapped back.

“Okay, love, I think we should get going. They look like they can handle themselves. Goodbye! Thank you again!” Tomas thanked his brother and sister in law before dragging you out of the house.

Finally a moment of freedom.

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°���══💤══

A simple dinner alone was already a treat itself. Not having to force the twins to sit down, stop fighting, and just eat their food was a relief. Or your baby crying in the middle of the meal and having to listen for a good minute to figure out what she wants. The worst is when she’s just crying for no reason and you can’t do anything but let it pass.

There was none of that. Just you and Tomas having a yummy meal. It took you back to the time when you two were just dating. You could never really sit down since Tomas seemed paranoid he would be caught sneaking out of practice. He’d always scare you by popping out of no where from a puff of smoke. It wasn’t ever a big deal and he’d take your hand to go get some food. You commonly would steal from his plate whenever you could but you would give something back in return. A trade. He was happy to see that you still do that even when you guys are now married. You haven’t changed a bit and he was happy with that. Not even becoming a mother could suppress your personality.

You still look as gorgeous as the day he met you and he still looks so handsome. You never doubted your relationship with him. Never doubted marrying him or having kids with him. This date shows that there is a still a strong spark between you.

Not even when the dinner was done did the date truly end. You guys walked, talked, and laughed together. Never even a mention of the kids. Oh that’s right, the kids.

“It’s getting pretty late. You think we should start heading back? We did tell that that we would be out for three hours.” You suggested.

Tomas took a moment to think about it. Yes, it was getting pretty late. Late enough that the kids might need to be put down for bed soon. But…

“Nope, I think they will be okay with us being out for another hour. It’s not like the kids have anywhere important to be tomorrow so they can stay up late.” Eh, good enough, may the date go on!

══💤══╡°˖✧🦊✧˖°╞══💤══

You and Tomas felt more rejuvenated. All smiles and laughter. You even felt good enough to get Kuai Liang and Harumi a whole cheesecake as another thanks for babysitting. You of course had to get the twins their own slice or else they won’t even shut up.

What you didn’t expect is to walk into was pure chaos. Your motherly instincts kicked in the moment you heard the baby crying. A cry of pain, probably the teething. Ah but Harumi looks like she’s in more pain. The baby had a tight grip on her long hair. That’s what you forgot to tell her. The baby yanks so she should put her hair up. Well at least Kuai Liang was safe from that.

…never mind the boys got him. He looked like a shell of his former self. His bun was so close to unraveling. At least nothing was on fire so that means they didn’t trick him into using his powers.

You placed the desserts on the kitchen table before running to Harumi. You forced your baby girl to open her hands and let go of Harumi’s beautiful black hair. It looked all messy now when it’s usually all smoothed down. You opened the freezer door and popped in the first frozen teething toy you could see. Immediately the crying stopped and she was satisfied once more.

Poor Kuai Liang, the twins are yanking at him and asking him to do more tricks. What is it with boys and arson? Tomas came over quickly to yank them off him, holding them by the back of their shirts. Looking around you could see the living room was in shambles.

“What in the world happened here?!” You yelled out.

“Why didn’t you say anything about them using smoke magic?” Kuai Liang asked in a tired voice.

“We told you they were sneaky.” You said.

“That’s not-!” He stopped himself from screaming at you.

Tomas placed both boys down on the ground again before scolding them into apologizing and cleaning the living room up.

“I mean look, you lived. You still have head on your hair,” You pointed at Harumi, “And you still have your sanity in tact.” Referring to Kuai Liang.

That was a lie they look utterly exhausted. Traumatized even. You’ve never seen these two that disheveled before. Hell, not even you looked this way after giving birth to the twins. Though their looks didn’t stop Tomas from asking for something else.

“Thank you so much for taking care of the kids, Kuai Liang,” he pulled his brother in closely to whisper something, “Could you come back next week? I want to take her out again.”

Kuai Liang damn near looked like he would kill his brother. He didn’t say anything. He just took Harumi’s hand and went out the door. They didn’t even take the cheesecake. Oh well! More for the family!

After notes: I’m sorry if this seems disfuncional. I ended up crying during my speech today so I feel off. I’ll be done with this semester soon. Only three weeks to go. Adiós!

[ashwhowrites]

I know your request are closed, so please feel free to take your time on this one. You are the best at angsty, so I had to come to the queen. Reader and Eddie have never been close friends, but have always been very flirty and soft with one another. After the kids join Hellfire, and Eddie starter hanging out with the crew, they grow closer sometimes hanging out one on one to smoke and stuff. But neither makes a move despite obviously being in love with one another. Eddie has been some what quite, and one night hanging with the crew he shows up with another girl that he met at the hideout. Reader is more quite towards him that evening, and it's killing Eddie because even having another girl he still puts mainly his attention on Reader and can't stop looking at her. You can finish it however you want my love!

Hi! So I did really like this idea so I kept it, but please in the future - keep all requests locked up until my inbox is open :) I'll be happy to write them out once my box is open. I feel more respected that way <3

I hope this is what you were looking for and that you like it :)

All we needed was communication

Y/N wasn't sure where she stood with Eddie. They had a friendship, but they weren't best friends. They didn't have deep conversations and knew everything about each other. They had more of a flirty situation. She found him incredibly attractive, and she voiced that out multiple times. She wasn't afraid to flirt with him, just more afraid to ask what he thought about her. And ask him out.

They hang out alone, they smoke, and watch movies. She thought having that time alone would give Eddie the chance to make a move or just do something. But he never did.

Y/N was with the hellfire group as they waited for Eddie to show up. It was strange for him to be running late to their Friday dinners. Y/N chatted with Gareth as the younger boys suck down their drinks and goof around. She was mid-story when she caught Eddie, but he wasn't alone.

"Hey boys, Y/N." He greeted them with a big smile, sliding into the booth across from her. A girl on his arm, as she slid next to him, across from Gareth. Dustin scooted away in a silent protest when she sat beside him.

The group fell silent upon seeing the new stranger. All for different reasons, or maybe they all knew Y/N's night was ruined.

"This is Hydi, and Hydi this is hellfire!" He greeted me, he sounded so excited and it crushed Y/N. But she put on a small smile and tried her best to welcome the new girl. The rest of the group slowly greeted her and then went back to their conversation.

"So where did you come from?" Gareth asked, a light tone in his voice, as he kicked Eddie from across the table. Eddie flinched and glared.

"Sorry, I was picking up Hydi but her house was harder to find than the other night," Eddie explained, opening his menu as Hyde looked over his shoulder. Y/N was trying not to look and stare. But that girl was close enough to smell his cheap cologne and the smell of his shampoo. She's resting on his leather jacket, her body able to make contact with his. Y/N was jealous and she could taste it on her tongue.

"Well, last time I was there to help." Hydi giggled, and Eddie laughed with her. Like their little inside joke was comedic cold. A smirk on his face as he winked at her, throwing his arm around her. He scooted down in the seat, spreading his legs further apart. Y/N felt herself staring. She always found him attractive. But the way he sat with dominance and confidence wiped her mind clean. She felt herself craving to place her hand on his thigh, imagining sitting next to him. But reality set in when Hydi 's hand made contact with his dick. Y/N jumped and looked away instantly.

She almost felt like she was going to be sick, but didn't need the extra attention on her. Gareth looked at her worriedly, "Y/N, you okay?"

The concern in his voice caused Eddie to snap his eyes at her. The same look as Gareth.

"Yeah! I'm okay." She said, nodding to convince them further. But they weren't convinced. Eddie kept his eyes on her when the table ordered, when everyone was eating, and when the bill came.

She felt squirmy all night. His eyes locked on her so intently was giving her goosebumps. She just didn't know if they were good goosebumps or bad ones. But she knew her heart hurt watching his date. She was gorgeous, and she hated how great she looked on Eddie's arm. Y/N would never look great with him like that.

But her heart raced at the way he was locked on her and just her. Hydi was a lost thought in his head for the rest of the night. Every word went unheard as Eddie stared Y/N down.

She took a deep breath of fresh air when she made it back to her house. Thankful that she could escape from the world.

But it didn't last. Within the next hour, Eddie was at her house and pounding at her window.

She covered herself with a blanket as she walked to her window. She wanted to be selfish and make him leave, but in the end, he didn't do anything wrong.

"What are you doing here?" She asked as he sat on her bed.

"You were a ghost throughout dinner. I wasn't going to just ignore that." Eddie said, his voice stern. "Talk to me."

"I was just caught off by Hydi, but that's all!" She explained she did not want it to be a big deal.

"What do you mean?"

"I don't know...I feel like we've been flirting and stuff. Then you showed up with someone." She shrugged

"She isn't anything and she won't be," Eddie explained. "It was dumb to bring her around. I don't have a good reason. I'm sorry for putting that on you. I enjoyed our flirting but I just didn't know if you did it because you liked me or because it was fun. I guess I wanted to see if I could move on and forget about it."

"I enjoyed our flirting too. I was hoping you'd make a move or something. And now I'm confused about how you felt after seeing you with Hydi" She explained

"I still like you, and knowing you like me and have been wanting me to make a move. I wish I knew before I messed it up. I would have kissed you." Eddie admitted. "I'm sorry for not communicating with you and making dumb decisions instead."

"I appreciate your apology. I should have talked to you about how I felt. I think we both messed up a bit." Y/N smiled. She couldn't be mad at him, neither know where they stood.

"But I'd pick you." He said, stepping closer.

"Maybe you can try that kiss now?" Y/N said, stepping into him

Eddie smiled and pressed his lips against hers. She wrapped her arms around his neck and shuddered as she felt his arms wrapping around her waist. His hand slipped to land on her ass as he slipped his tongue into her mouth. The kiss got heated fast, and Eddie walked her to the bed. Both fell on it as his tongue worked against hers. His hands went to slip under her shirt, and that's when she stopped him.

"Wait!" She gasped, he pulled back immediately,

"Shit, what's wrong?" He panicked

"Are you and Hydi still a thing?"

"Fuck no. She dumped me the second we left the restaurant. Said it was disrespectful to look at you the way I was." Eddie laughed

"You were staring." She giggled

"shut up." He teased, smashing his lips back on hers.

Tags!

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[whytheylosttheirminds]

A few questions about Don’t Call Me Kid (my obsession 🤩🤩🤩):

1. What argument did Rafe and Carter have their senior year?

2. Has Rafe really always have feelings for reader? If so, why did he seem to be embarrassed by her when they were in high school?

3. Does Rafe understand reader’s high school experience? Like does he see now how much him being hot and cold to her and the others picking on her made her how she is now?

Omg thank you for these thoughtful questions! Sorry it took me so long to reply, I typed out a whole thesis paper and then my app crashed and I lost it 😩

Gonna put my answers under the cut because there’s some spoilers for the final chapters 🫶

1. There will be a flashback to the argument in chapter 7! It’s a big piece of the puzzle that reader is missing which gives more context to how Rafe really felt about her in high school.

2. I don’t think it’s really a yes or no answer. Part of the reason I like writing for Rafe is that in any universe whether he’s a literal murderer or just an aggravating frat boy, nothing is ever black and white for him, even though he wants it to be. He wants to know if he’s a good person or a bad person, if he’s in love or if he’s not, if he’s making the right choice or the wrong one, but it’s never that simple and he gets frustrated, usually resulting in dumb, impulsive decisions. DCMK Rafe is going to reckon with that in the last few chapters and he’ll be more frustrated than ever that it isn’t so simple. Still I think at the end of the day, yes. He loves her and he always has, but his underdeveloped teenage boy brain was more concerned with being well liked and maintaining an image and at the end of the day, he chose that image over her.

3. I don’t think he does fully. I think he knows she liked him and he was certainly aware that she wasn’t considered “popular” but I don’t think he understands how his actions and the actions of others affected her long-term. He sees her now, self-assured and thriving and he doesn’t fully understand that something else could be going on under the surface (don’t worry, she’ll tell him 🙂‍↕️). If anything I think he’s actually jealous of her for being able to leave it all in her past when he feels like he carries everything around with him like a weight on his back (another trait of Rafe in every universe).

I’m hoping to tie a lot of these loose ends in the final few chapters! Thank you so much for reading and being invested in I these lil characters, they mean a whole lot to me 🙏💖

[fan-goddess]

Yes sir…

Thank you @succnfuccubus for inspiring me to write this and convincing me to actually do this

Summary: After another rejection, Billy’s feeling a little down in the dumps. But after meeting with your friend that morning and looking at a unique source material, you get a very unique idea on how to hopefully cheer him up.

Authors Note: Gave the friend a name as it was just easier. I loved the idea, but I don’t like this for some reason

Taglist: @valeskafics, @humanpurposes, @watercolorskyy, @omgbrcat @blue-serendipity @arcielee @targaryenbarbie @anjelicawrites d

Warnings: Smut books, p in v sex, m oral, praise kink, power imbalance role play, role play, angst, comforting, sad boy Billy Washington, the economy, begging, cuddling (if I miss any let me know)

Billy had never been a particularly avid reader. The most he’d ever voluntarily read probably being the required reading for secondary school English. You on the other hand, even before you’d stumbled across the smut section on the internet, had always been a common bookworm.

When your friend Lya first began to lend you books from her so called private collection though, now that’s when you became a woman possessed. Soon, most of what you were reading involved some sort of dark romance filtered in. Whether that was mafia, pirate, or just a simple brother’s best friend romance. You read it all with an expressionless face.

Yet when you’d begun to date Billy, you must confess to the amusement of Lya, who you’d been borrowing books from for all these years, that you hadn’t been borrowing and reading as many of those sort of books as you used too. Since now, you had a real life romance novel in front of your very eyes to carry out. It wasn’t exactly the dream romance kids pictured after watching a Disney movie, but what sort of relationships were these days?

The last few days, you and Billy had been unable to have sex due to a sudden difference in work times. Well, your work times and Billy’s interviews. Still, whilst you were used to this happening at some random times, your pussy had taken a sudden hit with the recent dry streak. Now, you were beginning to crave one of those novels of yours in your hands again. Desperate for a new sort of fiction that’d get brain stimulated and your cunt working.

So you called the best smut dealer you knew.

“Hey bestie!” You grinned, picking at your nail while your other hand was busy holding the phone. “I need a favour…” She’d laughed when you’d asked her for a new recommendation, yet to your relief, you and her had managed to agree to a meet up the next day to, exchange the goods.

The morning you were supposed to leave, you remember kissing Billy goodbye as your adorable half asleep boyfriend was still laying in bed all cosy and pretty. “Where are you going?” He’d grumbled, so cute with a small tired pout on his face that it almost made you want to strip back down to nothing and pounce on him there and then. The lack of sex it seemed was really getting to you right now.

“Visiting one of my friends for a morning drink. Nothing much baby. Remember though you’ve got that interview at 3, so don’t forget!” You smiled, giving him another deep kiss before you go that left Billy’s cheeks flushed from bashfulness. He’s so effortlessly fucking sexy it was utterly unreal…

When you got to the cafe you’d planned to meet Lya at, she eagerly waved at you from a discreet corner of the room. She may be honest as hell about what she reads, but she sure as hell knows how to act like a fucking dealer about it.

“Hello darling!” You smile, moving so you could give her a quick hug before sitting opposite her. “How’ve you been?”

“I’ve been alright thanks babes! Stocking up on my little novel collection, which reminds me!” She gives you a mischievous smile, and from her bag produced a book with quite a different cover than what you thought it’d be. As she places in front of you what looks to be a copy of great expectations.

“Think you’ve mixed up the books Lya!” You laugh, giggling in amusement when you see her look at you with such disappointment.

“Course I haven’t idiot!” She sighs, moving to grab the book and remove the book cover, before showing you the back of it. Where much to your surprise, you find the blurb for a very different book. Called ‘Unbuttoning the CEO’. “I read it last week and thought it’d be perfect for you!”

You laugh at the title and place the secret cover back on, before placing it in your bag. You don’t bring the book up again the rest of the catch up convo, but at the end when the two of you have eaten your cakes, drunk your coffees and were saying your goodbyes, you made sure to let Lya know what you thought of the book when you read it.

When you get back home, you head to the bedroom first to see if Billy’s back or not. The bed you can see is unmade and ruffled, yet when you feel it you can tell it’s cold to the touch, telling you Billy left a while a go. You head to the living room and sit on the sofa with a small sigh, praying Billy didn’t decide to head to the pub before a job interview.

You’re still for a couple minutes trying to think of what to do to occupy your time while you wait for Billy, and your eyes can’t help but be drawn to your bag, where the book practically taunts you from inside it. Before you even know it, you’re curled up on the sofa with the book in your hand and your lip between your teeth.

Words blur as you read sentence after sentence, but your eyes certainly eagerly tune in when you get to the actual sex part, which wasn’t even very far in to be honest.

The ceo takes the assistant on his desk, and you can’t help but clench your legs together when you read about how later on the assistant helps the CEO to ‘destress’. You take a small break to make yourself a quick drink, and can’t help but find your mind drifting to the idea of you and Billy in those scenes, playing those characters. You can’t help but forget about even making any sort of drink as you imagine exactly how you could help Billy destress from the recent unfair influx of job rejections.

You eagerly get back to reading though, and by the time Billy comes back home around 5, stinking slightly of cheap lager, you’ve already finished the book twice and reread your favourite scenes about three times over.

“Hey baby!” You smile, making note on how Billy nuzzles his body into yours as much as he can as soon as he gets close enough. Your pretty little teddy bear… “How’d it go?”

“Said I weren’t what they were looking for…” He murmurs into the length of your neck, as you kiss the top of his head softly. “Another fucking failure to add to the list…”

“Don’t say that!” You firmly say, placing both your hands on the side of his face to force his eyes to meet yours. You hate the way he looks so broken in that moment. So beaten by the world that all you want to do in that moment is wrap your arms around him and keep him safe from everything and everyone. The assholes who hurt him hurt him good and deep, and if you could, you’d beat them to death yourself. Maybe even with your porn book that’d be a right sight you must admit… “You are fucking amazing! You’re my favourite person in the whole world and I will not have you bring yourself down! Do you understand me Billy Washington?”

He gulps, and for a second you swear you can see tears build up in his eyes before they’re quickly blinked away.

“I-I underhand darling. Thank you, for being there for me. For everything.” He says, before bringing you in for a hug. Practically crushing you with how hard his arms lock around your waist and his head stays tucked in the skin of your neck.

The two of you stay there for what feels like hours. Holding each other while the time goes by. The only reason the two of you even break away from each other is because your phone rings so loudly all of a sudden and shocks the two of you into remembering the situation at hand. You quickly move to switch your phone on silent, and yet your eyes somehow manage to drift to the book peeking out from behind a sofa cushion, and an idea makes it way through your mind.

“Hey Billy…” You begin, smirking when you see Billy’s usual shy persona breaking through his shell once more when he sees that smile of yours. “I wanna try something tonight…”

“What is it?” He asks, raising a brow and stepping back slightly when he sees the grin on your face.

“Just something I read recently. Wanna see how you’ll like it…” You purr, placing your hands on his shoulders and dragging him to the edge of the sofa, before pushing him slightly so he falls backwards with a small gasp. His eyes open wide as they stare at you with such awe and admiration that you can’t help but find yourself blushing slightly.

You slowly lower yourself between Billy’s legs, which seem to open as wide as they can automatically, and with innocent fluttering eyes, lay your head on the side on his leg.

“Can I please suck your cock sir?” You beg, a pout on your lips to mimic pure desperation as Billy practically seems to have a heart attack above you. He appears breathless as you spring this sudden fantasy upon him, and yet by the way you can see and feel his trousers move and strain with his quickly swelling cock, you can tell with certainty that he definitely seems to be enjoying this.

“Yes…” He eventually murmurs with a heavy breath. “You can suck my cock….”

“Thank you sir, I promise I won’t let you down!” You smile, moving your hands to undo his belt and shimmy down his trousers and his underwear. When Billy is left sitting naked before you, as he’d claimed to feel silly if he was sitting in just his shirt, you can’t even stop yourself from admiring your boyfriends erect cock that stands proudly before your face.

“Such a pretty cock sir…” You murmur, before opening your mouth and taking it in your mouth as far as you can before your nose hits the small soft patch of hair lying at the base of Billy’s cock.

You can hear him keen and whine above you, and you’re very sad you can’t see the way his eyes no doubt roll to the back of his head. You slowly move your head back and forth, keeping a steady pace that leaves Billy practically shaking and whining above you.

“Please….” You hear him beg. A noise you love more than anything, and yet at this moment it’s not what you want. You want him to feel in control for once. To know how much you worship him and adore him. To know that he has the ability to make you become so needy and desperate for him that you’ll do anything to please him. That is, with the right words of course.

“Please darling!” He continues, his whimpering so delightful to your ears that you almost throw your plan out the window so you could give him as many earth shattering orgasms as he deserves. But patience is a virtue, so you continue to suck at Billy’s cock in a leisurely pace. Drawing all sorts of noises from him that leaves your own lower half aching for a release.

“Take control of me Billy…” You eventually say, admittedly growing tired of the lack of communication between the both of you. “Take hold of me and do whatever you want to me sir…”

It seems your words finally made it into his pretty little head. Since as soon as you try and go back to putting your mouth on him after saying those words to him, you feel a strong hand wrap itself between the strands of your hair, atopping you from getting anymore closer to his cock than what you already are. It makes your pussy admittedly wetter as you’re now effectively eye level with Billy’s weeping member, and yet am unable to touch it at all. Forced to stare at it while it weeps a single drop his precum and watch while it trails down his erection. It’s absolute fucking torture.

“Please sir!” You find yourself begging, an actual pout on your lips as desperation claws up your whole body. “I wanna make you feel good sir! Wanna warm your cock in my mouth and feel your cum trickling down my throat!”

You can feel the grip his hands have on your hair tighten, and before you know it, Billy’s cock is hitting the back of your throat and your eyes are rolling to the back of your head as your used like a pathetic fuck toy. You let your body go limp as you allow Billy to use you however he decides, yet he doesn’t seem to exactly have that part figured out yet, as he focuses on moaning and groaning about you like a porn star while he uses you to his current hearts content.

For a while, you almost find yourself unable to breathe. Gasping for air whenever the opportunity appeared. Yet still, you persist in your willingness, eager to see the usually so submissive man in front of you break.

“Fuck I’m gonna cum!” He groans, moaning as he further tightens his grip on you and forces you to work harder and faster on his cock. You moan wantonly and work your tongue harder as you feel his tip become drenched in a delicious mixture of both your spit and his precum, and feel his entire length throb under the weight of your efforts. It’s actually quite flattering really, seeing how fast he’s about to cum from your suggestions.

“Fuuuuuuck please swallow baby please please please!” He whines, that inner submissive of his still lingering as he holds your head down firmly on his cock while you feel his cum shoot down to the back of your throat, and practically choke you with how much you feel quickly filling your mouth. You cough slightly as you try and obey Billy by swallowing what you can, yet you can’t help but have a few drops of his essence flow down your cheek as you struggle swallowing the first few drops.

“Here you go baby…” Billy murmurs, using his fingers to pick up the stray dribbles and put them in front of your lips. Admittedly you feel quite bashful as you avoid his eyes while sucking the remaining taste of him off his fingers, but as soon as you finish, those same now spit covered fingers rest under your chin and force your head up so your eyes can meet.

A silent gasp releases under your breath as you see an uncharacteristic carefree yet somehow cocky smile on Billy’s face. That submissive man you saw not even five minutes ago gone as this new, changed man sits before you. Like some sort of strange sexual butterfly.

“You were a good girl for me.” He simply says, allowing you to bask in the feeling of his dominance that makes your legs weak at the knees. “And good girls if I’m right, get rewarded. You taught me that pretty girl. So please, get naked, and get on the bed for me arse up, so I can reward you for being so good for me.”

Fuck you’ve made a monster. A sexy one yes, but still a sexually dominant monster.

You do as Billy says to a T. Stripping yourself quickly so that your clothes are all over the bedroom floor, and placing your body on the bed in Billy’s desired position. You wait with bated breath for what feels like hours while your skin erupts in a multitude of goosebumps, and you swear you nearly jump out of your skin when you feel Billy’s warm skin suddenly against yours. You feel his half hard cock rubbing almost pitifully against your arse, and you realise with a very sick thrill that you can actually feel him getting harder the more your juices seem to coat him.

It seems though you were so caught up in your thoughts, that you miss the sounds of Billy’s own clumsy movements of stripping.

“So pretty…” He groans. A beautiful sound that leaves you wanting more more and more. How greedy of you… “You want to be fucked by me don’t you? By your boss?”

“Yes sir!” You whine, your head going dull as you stay focused only Billy’s body and nothing else. On the way he makes you feel so effortlessly, and without meaning. “Want you to make me yours! Want me to make sure everyone knows I only belong to you!”

You can hear Billy deeply grunt behind you, and with a gasp you don’t even at first realise belong to you, you feel Billy thrust his cock deep inside you. An intense feeling of fullness hitting you as you close your eyes and grip your hands desperately at the sheets in an attempt to ground yourself.

He gratefully allows you to get used to the sudden intrusion, but before you know it, Billy is quickly thrusting himself quickly in and out of you while you moan and keen for more beneath him. Your eyes screwing shut as your lower belly slowly tightens harder and harder.

“So good!” He groans, unexpectedly yet cautiously smacking your backside with his palm that causes an absolute pathetic sound to leave your lips. “My sweet little slut. All mine to fuck!”

An abundance of yeses comes quickly and brainlessly as you answer Billy’s statement with a high pitched moan. All you want right now is to cum. And by the way you can feel your cunt clenching and fluttering hard around Billy’s cock, you can guess it won’t be long before you do.

“Fuck sir I wanna cum please let me cum for you sir I’ve been so good!” You whine, your mouth hanging open in a silent scream as Billy somehow manages to move himself faster against you. The sound of his skin smacking at such a fast pace against your own to your ears sounding like an erotic symphony.

“Yes… you have been good…” Billy groans. His voice so strained it’s as if he’s struggling with all his strength to say them. “So you’ll continue to be good… by taking my fucking cum in your perfect cunt!”

You take that as your queue, and with a loud unwavering yell, you cum hard around Billy’s cock. Coaxing forth his own orgasm as he clutches hard at your skin and pushes himself as deep as he can to you. Moaning as you focus on the feeling of his hot cum filling you.

You can also feel his pubic hair stimulating your swollen clit, which leaves you silently gasping against the mattress and your aching pussy clenching against Billy’s softening cock.

The two of you stay where you are as you allow each other to breathe and calm down, yet it’s not long before the two of you are cuddling under the bed covers, with Billy’s cock still inside you.

“Did you like that baby?” You can’t help but murmur. Anxious on whether Billy was happy over you pushing him out of his usual comfort zone.

“It was different…” He summarises. You cannot see his face to make any assumptions. Given that your man has gone back to his roots by putting his head in the curve of your neck. “But I liked it. I liked it a lot.”

You may not be able to see it, but even so, your ego swells massively when you realise you can feel Billy’s bashful smile against your skin. It almost makes you want to have your wicked way with him again. That is though, before you realise with a warm feeling chest that Billy has steadily fallen asleep against you. With his softened cock still inside you, and your arms wrapped firmly around his body ensuring his safety.

“Sleep baby…” You murmur, kissing the top of his head with a smile. “You were such a good boy for me baby… we’ll see about rewarding you later….”

You may have imagined it, but you swear you can feel Billy smile against your skin. Yet you push the thought away and instead choose to close your eyes, and allow your own exhaustion to overcome you. You and Billy’s breaths and hearts synching as you hold each other with as much love as a sleeping person could handle.