#I was on break and someone with a question was like “do you work here?” and like. bestie? I do not look like I work at a hardware store

[latin5mamii]

5:42 am

genre: JudeBellingham x you; cute and fluff

summary: After a whole night of no-sleep, you decide to help your boyfriend forget about his overthinking for once.

author's note: Cute and fluffy! Didn't want to make it too depressing so i added a bit of humor; i know this is work is unexpected but i'm getting a lot of inspiration rn!

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ

˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ˚₊˖ ᡣ𐭩 ⊹ ࣪ ౨ৎ

The world is still asleep when Jude wakes, moving with the careful precision of someone practiced in not disturbing the peace. His hand reaches for his phone on the bedside table, and he shifts cautiously to sit up on the edge of the bed.

The room is dark save for the faint blue light creeping through the curtains, a soft haze that makes everything feel slower, quieter.

He doesn’t hear you stir behind him.

The mattress dips slightly as you roll over, and he freezes. For a second, he thinks you’ll fall back asleep, but your voice—soft and warm like the blankets tangled around you—breaks the silence.

"You're already up"

It’s not a question, and there’s no frustration in your tone—just a quiet understanding. Before every match, he could never sleep. He���d toss and turn, get up for water, but he could never settle—especially now, with so much to think about.

Jude glances over his shoulder, a little sheepish as he meets your sleepy gaze.

“Didn’t mean to wake you,” he murmurs. His voice is a whisper, rough from the early hour.

“You didn’t.” You stretch slightly, the movement slow and lazy. “You never do.”

He smiles at that—small, almost imperceptible in the low light. You sit up halfway, leaning on your elbow as you watch him tug on a sweatshirt over his T-shirt.

“Don’t go just yet,” you say, voice still quiet but carrying a softness that stops him mid-motion. “Come back here for a minute; you have so much time left. ”

Jude doesn't hesitate even for a second as soon as he sees you—still cocooned in blankets, your hair messy and your eyes heavy-lidded but bright. It’s not a hard choice, not really.

He slips back into bed without a word, settling beside you. Your arm loops around his waist instinctively, and he leans into it, letting his head rest against yours.

The silence in the room is thick but comforting, punctuated only by the faint hum of the world outside—a car passing, the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. Jude’s breathing evens out as he melts into your embrace, the tension in his shoulders softening. You run your hand gently along his back, tracing patterns you don’t think about but that he seems to feel, leaning into each movement.

“You think too much,” you whisper, your voice barely audible but close enough that he hears it.

He doesn’t respond right away. Instead, his arm drapes over you, pulling you closer. His face is buried in the crook of your neck, and you feel him exhale deeply, as if the weight of what you said has settled somewhere in his chest.

“I just want to get it right,” he murmurs, finally. The words are small but heavy, like they’ve been sitting on the tip of his tongue for days.

“You always do.”

The response is automatic, and you mean it—every syllable. You wish you could pull his thoughts away, fold it neatly into something manageable. But for now, all you can do is hold him.

Jude pulls back slightly, just enough to look at you. The dim light softens his features—his dark eyes are wide, thoughtful, his lips parted as if he’s about to say something but decides against it.

“You okay?” you ask, brushing a hand through his hair, which is still slightly messy from sleep.

Jude lingers in the embrace a moment longer, his face tucked against the curve of your neck, the warmth of your skin drawing out a softness he didn’t realize he needed. But when he finally shifts, there’s something lighter in his expression. He nudges his nose against your cheek, playful, and murmurs,

“You’ve turned me into a morning person, you know.”

You laugh, low and easy, your fingers pausing in his hair to tap lightly against the side of his head. “I don’t think you get to claim that title until you actually enjoy mornings, Jude.”

He pulls back enough to look at you, an exaggerated pout forming on his lips. “What if I just enjoy mornings with you?”

“That’s sweet,” you tease, your smile brightening the dim room. “But you still groan every time the alarm goes off, so I’m not sure it counts.”

“Details.” He grins, leaning in to press a quick kiss to your forehead before sitting up. The bed shifts under his weight, and you watch as he stretches, the hem of his sweatshirt riding up slightly. The sight makes you laugh—something about the way his early-morning dishevelment feels so ordinary and yet so utterly him.

He glances over his shoulder at you, catching the amused tilt of your smile. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say, shaking your head, though the laughter still dances in your voice. “You’re just...cute like this.”

His ears turn a little pink, and he rubs the back of his neck, feigning nonchalance. “Yeah, yeah. Come on, let’s make some coffee before you embarrass me even more.”

“Embarrass you? Never,” you shoot back, but you’re already sitting up, tossing the blankets aside. The cool air hits your skin, and you shiver slightly, reaching for the oversized sweater draped over the chair beside the bed. Jude is already standing, holding a hand out to help you up.

The two of you move quietly even though you're alone in the house, the soft shuffle of your steps the only sound. Jude goes straight to the counter, pulling out the coffee beans and the grinder.

“You want tea, right?” he asks over his shoulder, already reaching for the kettle.

“Mm-hmm,” you hum, leaning against the counter and watching him. He moves with a kind of easy precision, his focus shifting between the coffee and the kettle like it’s a little morning ritual he’s perfected. You can’t help but smile—it’s a far cry from the nerves that had him tossing and turning earlier.

“What’s funny now?” he asks, catching your expression as he sets the kettle to boil.

“Just you,” you say, your voice light. “All serious about coffee like it’s a science.”

“It is a science,” he replies, mock-indignant. “And you’re lucky I’m good at it, or you’d be stuck drinking whatever shit they call coffee down the street.”

“Oh yeah?” you shoot back, barely suppressing a laugh. “Says the guy who puts honey in his coffee.

Jude shakes his head, chuckling as he stirs the honey into his mug. “Is it that bad?” he asks, raising an eyebrow at you.

You shrug, fighting back a grin. “I mean, I wouldn’t say bad. Just...no okay it's actually bad.”

Jude groans dramatically, hand over his heart as if your words wounded him. “Wow. First thing in the morning, and you’re already coming for me.”

After a moment, you set your mug down and glance at him. “What do you want for breakfast? Or are we just surviving on caffeine today?”

Jude’s lips curve into a small, thoughtful smile. “Surviving on caffeine sounds very me,” he admits. Then, after a beat, he straightens and adds, “But pancakes sound better.”

“Pancakes?” you say, arching a brow. “Aren't you the man who claims he doesn’t need breakfast?”

“I’m evolving,” he says, feigning a look of mock importance. “Also, I think we have chocolate chips in the pantry.”

You laugh, reaching out to ruffle his hair affectionately. “Chocolate chip pancakes at dawn? I really am impressed.”

He nudges your side playfully, grinning. “Come on, let’s do it. We’ll make them quick. I’ll even let you flip them.”

“Generous of you,” you tease, already moving toward the pantry.

The only sounds are the soft clatter of bowls and utensils as the two of you work together, gathering ingredients and mixing the batter. Jude insists he’s got the perfect pancake recipe memorized, but you end up adding a little extra milk to the bowl when he’s not looking, just to mess with him.

“What did you just do?” he asks, squinting at you suspiciously as you stir.

“Nothing,” you say innocently, biting back a grin. “Just making sure it’s not too thick.”

He narrows his eyes, but he doesn’t argue, instead grabbing a ladle and heating the pan. “Alright, let’s see how this goes.”

The first pancake comes out a little lopsided, and you burst into laughter as Jude flips it onto a plate with exaggerated precision.

“Hey,” he says, pointing the spatula at you, “it’s not about how it looks—it’s about how it tastes.”

“Sure, Chef Jude,” you reply, still laughing as you lean against the counter, watching him pour the next one.

The second pancake is better—golden brown and perfectly round—and by the time the stack is finished, the kitchen smells like warm batter and melted chocolate. Jude sets the plate on the table with a triumphant flourish, and you grab two forks, sliding into a chair beside him.

Jude nudges your foot under the table, catching your eye as he chews his first bite.

“Not bad, huh?” he says, grinning.

You smile back, warmth spreading through you that has nothing to do with the pancakes. “Not bad at all.”

You pause eating and carefully set the little fork down on your plate. Looking at him, you offer a gentle smile, hoping to ease the weight of the long night.

“You’re going to do great today. I just know it.”

He slowly reaches out, his fingers brushing your nose and then your cheek. After a moment, his hand settles softly on yours.

"I hope your predictions are right, then"

[skzhocomments]

Interview with my Ex - Bang Chan Oneshot Fanfic

General Masterlist

Request me a story

---

Pairing: Bang Chan (Stray Kids) x OC/Reader (Story is written in 2nd person, OC is called Eun-ji)

Genre: light angst, strangers to lovers to exes (to lovers?)

Word Count: 8.8k

Warnings: swearing, non-explicit mentions of mature themes

Summary:

You have been invited to participate in a show titled ‘Interview with my Ex’ together with Bang Chan. Will you go and confront him for breaking up with you one year ago, or will you miss out on this opportunity?

This is just a story that doesn’t describe Bang Chan or other mentioned Stray Kids’ members true characters in any way. It’s just a product of my imagination and should be treated as such.

This story is also on Wattpad (click here) and AO3 (click here)

---

A/N: As any other writer out there, I would appreciate reblogs and your comments on this story. Please let me know if you enjoyed it, and most importantly, have fun!

© all rights reserved by skzhocomments (Tumblr), skzho (Tumblr)/ storminsidemycore (Wattpad), storminsidemycore (AO3)

---

Interview with my Ex

---

What the heck is this?

Your eyes are stuck on the screen, unable to believe the E-mail you’ve just received.

---

“PROPOSAL to Mrs. Eun-ji Park

You have been invited to participate in our show titled ‘Interview with my Ex’ together with Bang Christopher Chan.

The show is scheduled to be filmed on XX.XX.XXXX. You will be able to talk openly to your ex about your relationship and your break-up through a series of questions we’ve prepared.

Please let us know if you are interested in this proposal and if you are available.

Thank you,

The ‘Truth Behind The Scenes’ Team”

---

Reading through the lines, your eyes widen in shock.

You look up the E-mail address the message came from and find that not only is it legit, but they have a YouTube channel with millions of subscribers, which would explain why your ex – Chan – would be invited to it and would want to participate.

Although you haven’t kept up with what he’s been doing, you know that he is preparing to release an album to launch his solo career, and he’d probably want to promote it as much as possible.

But still, isn’t it a bit cruel to invite you to something like this? Would he really promote this album at your expense, after knowing how much he’s hurt you?

It’s been more than a year since you’ve broken up, but still, your heart still hurts whenever you read his name. You don’t think you’d be able to face him without feeling pain creeping in from every crevice of your body.

You miss him terribly, and ever since he left, you weren’t able to fill the hole he left behind. Once in a while, you wonder if he’s ever tried reaching out and you almost unblock his number, but quickly change your mind because the possibility of talking to him again scares you.

You are scared of your heart swelling up with hope in your chest again, you are scared of confessing that he was the best thing that’s ever happened to you, and you are scared he most likely doesn’t feel the same.

Still, you are curious. Maybe it wouldn’t be a bad idea to participate in this show – to talk to him more or less openly about the whys and the hows, so you eventually decide to reply to the message, and you clear up your work schedule for that day.

~

As the day approaches, you get more and more anxious about having to see him. Initially, you decide to dress to the nines, to show him what he’s been missing out on, but the more dresses you try on, the more uncomfortable you feel.

Why should you try to be someone you’re not just to try and impress a man who’s left you?

You shouldn’t.

You don’t care to impress him anymore. You should just be you, and you should wear something you’re feeling good in, even if that’s just a plain black shirt and some matching black jeans and shoes.

You decide to do your make-up as you’d usually do for work – a soft glam paired with a glossy lip balm, and glancing once more in the mirror, you sigh to yourself and get out of your apartment, taking the bus until you reach the address you’ve received in the last message the Truth Behind the Scenes team sent you.

As you reach the filming studio, someone takes you inside a room with a table and two chairs, and Chan is already there with his back turned to you, speaking with someone you don’t recognise.

Your heart skips a beat at the sight of him, and you hesitate for a little while, but eventually decide to approach the table with a soft smile.

“Hey.” You say, and seeing you, Chan immediately stands up and smiles brightly.

“Hey! I wasn’t sure you’d show up.” He chuckles, taking you into a hug, and oh, how much you missed his embrace, even if it’s short.

“Yeah, I wasn’t sure either.” You reply honestly. “But here I am. So, how does this work?”

“Well, I thought we would have a conversation of some sort, but apparently there’s some questions on those cards each of us has to draw from those two boxes-” he points towards the table, “and the other has to reply.”

“I see.” You nod and sit down, and he follows soon after.

The team instructs you to draw the first card, and as you do, you begin reading:

“How did we meet?”

“Oh, alright. Well…”

---

Rubbing his tired eyes, Chan looked in the corner of his computer screen and cursed out loud when he noticed how late it already was.

3:52 AM.

“Shit.” He leaned back and closed his eyes tightly, and when he opened them again, they started stinging.

He rubbed them again while contemplating if he should go back to the dorms or just sleep on the sofa in the studio. Although uncomfortable, it would do until tomorrow at 10 when he’d have to be back to the building.

After some more minutes and deep breaths used to try and calm him down, he eventually decided against sleeping on the sofa and getting God knows how many neck cramps in the morning when he’d wake up.

He got up and shut down his computer and his laptop, of course after making sure a million times that he’s saved the progress made on the track in the past few hours of the night. He had a good feeling about this new song, even though it would probably not see the light of day in a few years.

Still, it’s better to work in advance and be prepared, especially in an industry as competitive as the one he works in.

Walking into the hallway, he eventually reached the elevators and called one of them. He glanced one more time left and right, and made his way inside, thinking of how peaceful the company is so late into the night. This was probably the only thing he enjoyed about staying up late cramped in his studio: the quietness, the emptiness, the fact that he can take the elevator all the way down uninterrupted-

“Oh.” A woman’s voice pulled him out of his trance, as he stood bewildered looking at the elevator’s doors that opened on the 6th floor. “Wasn’t expecting someone else to be up and about at this time.” The woman continued, and Chan smiled out of courtesy.

You got in and pressed the button to close the doors, and the elevator started moving again, until it suddenly came to a halt.

The lights followed, leaving you in complete darkness.

“What the fuck…” Chan mumbled, taking his phone out of his pocket.

What a great day to have 2%.

He turned the flashlight on, nonetheless.

“Is this a blackout?” You contemplated out loud. “Ouch.”

“Oh, I’m sorry!” Chan apologised, putting the flashlight down. He unintentionally blinded the poor woman. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Great.”

“Tell me about it… What do we do?”

“Is there anyone you could call to tell them we’re here? I forgot my phone on my desk. Shit.”

“Yeah, let me try and call my manager. He’ll probably kill me tomorrow morning for interrupting his precious sleep, but he’s our only hope.”

“Okay.”

Chan searched up his manager’s name and dialled his number, but before the call could connect, the phone shut down.

“No more battery.”

“No way. Are you fucking kidding me?” You asked, but despite the harsh words, there was no annoyance in your tone. Instead, Chan was able to hear slight amusement.

“I always charge it.” He mumbled once more under his breath.

“Do you think the power went out in the whole building, or is it just the elevator?”

“Hmm. Not sure. Probably the whole building.”

“So, we’re stuck.” You concluded, and Chris started hearing a slight shuffle. “Might as well be comfortable. I’m down here.”

“On the floor?”

“No, dummy. On the ceiling.” You laughed.

“Okay, okay. It’s 4 AM, be a bit more lenient on me for the stupid questions.” Chan laughed as well and sat down, hoping he wouldn’t accidentally sit on you.

“I’m Eun-ji, by the way.”

“Chris.”

“Nice to meet you, Chris.”

“What are you doing here so late?”

“Same as you, probably. Working.”

“Damn, what department are you in?” He asked, trying to keep the conversation going.

“Financing.” You shrugged, although you knew he wasn’t able to see you.

“I see. I’m from Stray Kids.”

“Yeah, I know.” You chuckled at the absurdity of the situation. Of course you knew, since you were up so late because of this guy and his team’s never-ending resources for their million albums, merch and tours.

“Really? How so?” He asked, as if taken aback.

“Uhm, I mean… you’re one of the stars of the company I work for. It would be kind of weird to not know, don’t you think?” You asked plainly.

“I guess so, yeah…”

“So, do you think we’d be here for long?”

“God, I hope not. I’m so tired I could sleep right here.”

“Do it, then.” You shrugged again. “Do you want to put your head in my lap to be more comfortable?”

“What?”

“I asked, do you want to put your head-”

“No, I heard what you asked.” Chris chuckled. “I was just taken aback.”

“Well, you don’t have to. It was just a solution to the problem.”

“Then, you should be the one to do it and get some sleep, I bet you’re as tired as me.” He countered.

“No, I’m fine. Sure, I’m tired, but I have a day off tomorrow, so I can sleep in once I get home.”

“Oh… do you live far away?”

“Just a couple blocks over.”

“I see.”

“You?”

“Same…”

You hummed and nodded, and the two of you stayed silent for a few moments, until Chris started speaking again.

“So… do you like your job?”

“What?” You chuckled. “That was so random.”

“I’m trying to make conversation!” He retorted.

“I can’t say I dislike it, but I also can’t say I like it. It’s just a means to a way, I guess.”

“Mhm.”

“What about you, Chris? Do you like your job?”

“Yeah, a whole lot.” He smiled, and although you couldn’t see it, you heard it from the tone of his voice.

“Isn’t it stressful, though?”

“It is, but it’s also very rewarding. I wouldn’t pick anything else for the world.” He continued with the same excitement.

“That’s incredible. I wish my job and I had the same relationship honestly.”

“Hey, does your offer still stand?”

“Sorry?” You asked confused, and then realised what he was referring to. “Oh, yeah, of course. Come here.”

You found his shoulder in the dark and raised your hand until you found his nape, guiding his head towards your lap.

“There you go, are you comfortable?”

“Yeah, I am. Sorry about this, I’m just very tired and feel like I might pass out.”

“Don’t worry.”

You placed your other hand on his head and figured out he had a cap on, which you haven’t noticed earlier when you could see him.

“Mind if I take this off?”

“Why?” He asked immediately.

“Just figured I’d massage your scalp to help you sleep better?”

“Oh, no. I haven’t washed my hair.”

“So what?” You chuckled. “You’re such a kid.”

“I’m not a kid! Okay, fine, whatever. Take it off.”

“Good. Now, don’t get worked up and focus on sleeping.” You chuckled again and took off his cap, starting to scratch his head softly, and not even a few minutes later, you heard his steady breathing, signalling that he must’ve fallen asleep.

You wondered how long this power outage was going to last, and time seemed to pass by extremely slowly, and you eventually ended up dozing off as well. The next thing you remember is waking up blinded by the strong white lights inside the elevator, with Chris still sleeping peacefully in your lap.

“Hey.” You nudged him awake, and as he sat up, he looked more confused than ever.

“What’s up? Is the power back on?”

“Apparently.” You smiled softly, yawning.

“Thank you for being my pillow.” He said and stood up, putting his cap back on, then gave you a hand to help you up as well.

“No issues.” You chuckled and accepted his help.

“Need me to drop you off?”

“No, don’t worry about me. I live really close by. Besides, I still need to go back upstairs and grab my phone, so you get going and get some more rest.”

“Alright. Good night, Eun-ji.”

“Night!” You waved as he exited the elevator, unable to believe the interaction you just had, but still way too tired to think too much about it.

---

“That was one of the best sleeps I’ve ever had, believe it or not.”Chris says with a laugh as he recalls the memory.

“Yeah, you mentioned about it a whole lot and always made me scratch your head before sleep whenever you’d come over.” You laughed as well with a shake of your head and watched as he grabbed another card from the deck.

“When was our first kiss?” He asks, and you tilt your head to the side.

“You mean, the date and time?”

“I think it’s more like… if you remember how it happened?” He replies, quite confused as well.

“Ah, I see. Of course I remember.”

“During our first date?”

“No.” You chuckled again. “I told you before that you don’t remember that one time!”

“Ohhhh!” He exclaims. “Yeah, sorry, I think I was drunk out of my mind when that kiss happened.”

“You make it sound like I took advantage of a poor drunk man.” You joke, and Chris laughs as well.

“No, no, nothing like that. But come on, tell the story.”

“Fine.” You playfully roll your eyes.

---

“I can’t believe we’ve been invited to this party!” Your co-worker exclaimed happily as she applied and reapplied her lipstick, making you laugh at her antics.

“Why? It’s literally just a Christmas dinner, babe.”

“No, Eun-ji. It’s not just a dinner, everyone will be there. Everyone.”

“No clue what this means, but whatever.” You chuckled again.

“It means, even the idols! I told you I met Yeji last week and she was such a sweetheart! I wonder if she remembers me!”

“I doubt it, with how much foundation you’ve put on, babe.”

“What, am I not beautiful?” She pouted.

“You are extremely beautiful, but you look very different compared to your day-to-day look. Wait, your lipstick smudged a bit. Here, let me wipe it off.” You grabbed a napkin and carefully worked around your coworker’s lips, making sure the lipstick looked cleanly applied.

“Thank you so much! You’re dressed so plainly, though. You should always dress to impress, Eun-ji! Let’s get you in a dress!” She exclaimed, but you were quick to shake your head.

“No, thank you. I’d much rather feel comfortable. Besides, it’s just a dumb dinner. It’s not like I’ll meet the love of my life or anything like that. I don’t care to impress anyone either.”

“You’re literally impossible. Fine, wear your lame-ass black shirt and jeans, then!” She stuck her tongue out, and you replied in the same manner, before you two ended up making your way towards the elevators.

A few floors up, the elevator stopped, and the doors opened, revealing two men.

One of them, you knew.

“Oh, hello! Eun-ji, right?” Chris spoke, and you smiled slightly.

“Hi.”

“Are you girls going to the last floor too?” He asked, noticing the striking discrepancy between how you and your co-worker were dressed.

“Yeah, we are.” You replied, trying to ignore how hard your co-worker was gripping your arm. You were sure she was freaking out and in dire need of help, since she couldn’t seem to keep her cool in front of these two.

“This is Felix, by the way.” Chris introduced him.

“Hello!” The other man replied in a low tone with a nod and a sweet smile, and you acknowledged him with a short nod.

Of course, you also knew who Felix was, but it was never a big deal to you that they were famous or whatever. They were still people, just like you and your co-worker, who didn’t seem to think the same way, however.

The elevator ride was short, and you got to the last floor in no time, waving goodbye to Felix and Chris and heading towards your assigned table.

“You didn’t tell me you knew freaking Bang Chan!” Your co-worker scream-whispered in your ear, still gripping your arm.

“Because I don’t.” You retorted with a shrug.

“Yeah, you do! He even knew your name! How did that happen?”

“We just happened to meet in an elevator and got stuck for about two hours or so.” You shrugged again.

“What? When?”

“A few months ago, maybe?”

“How could you not tell me? I thought we were friends!”

“Because there was nothing to say!” You replied slightly annoyed, and she rolled her eyes, just as you reached the table.

~

The air was so stuffy in the large room, you could barely breathe. There were too many people – most likely almost everyone in the company, be it idols or mere workers.

It was so hard to hear your thoughts over the loud music, that you decided to simply make a run for it and disappear. It was getting late anyway, and you were tired, and quite honestly sick of the noise.

As you got back to the elevator and reached over to press the button and call it to your floor, your hand collided with someone else’s.

“It appears we meet again.” Chris chuckled.

“Yeah, what’s with us and this damn elevator? I don’t get it.” You laughed as well as you both stepped inside, and you pressed on the ground floor.

Chris also reached out to the buttons and pressed on another floor, but you didn’t pay it any mind.

The doors opened and he got out with a little smile and a “Goodbye!”, but then, just before the doors closed again, he placed his hand in-between them, making them reopen.

“Yes?” You asked in surprise.

“Do you, uhm… do you wanna come see my studio?”

“Why?”

“Might be cool to see.” He shrugged. “I have a bomb song idea and, you know, the creative process and all is quite interesting.”

“The creative process.” You chuckled. “Alright. Why not? As long as it’s quiet.”

“It is, it’s the best room in the building, trust me.” He smiled excitedly and turned around, so you followed him out of the elevator and into the studio.

“It’s so cramped!” You exclaimed the moment you saw it.

“Yeah, but it’s cosy, and it’s mine.” He smiled and offered you a seat on his sofa, which you were quick to accept.

Chris initially sat down at the desk, but after a little while of him pressing buttons and you admiring every corner of the room in silence, he decided to stand back up and come sit on the sofa next to you.

“No more working?”

“No more working.” He shook his head. “I can’t focus.”

“Oh, is it because I’m here?” You replied, slightly embarrassed. Maybe you shouldn’t have come.

“No, of course not! It’s because I’m drunk as fuck and nothing on my screen makes any sense.” He replied quickly with a warm laugh.

“Oh. It’d be best to head home and sleep, then.”

“Eun-ji, I’ll be blunt. Your lips look so incredible right now…”

“Wh- what? My lips?” You immediately put your fingers on top of them. “Must be this new lipbalm I’m using. It’s called-”

“No, it’s not that.” Chris chuckled. “I just wanna…” He grabbed your hand softly and dragged it away, his body coming closer to you, until your lips collided.

For a few seconds, you were taken aback by what was happening, but as the kiss deepened, your hands found the back of his head and you brought him closer.

His tongue was hot on yours, and in no time, you found yourself sitting in his lap, still making out like you were thirsty and his mouth had the only water left on Earth.

One of his hands travelled under your shirt on your naked back, and the other went down to your bum, squeezing it softly, and you let out a moan muffled by his mouth on yours.

---

“Yeah, thinking about it, it was you who initiated that kiss, so you can’t blame me for your drunken mistakes.” You chuckle.

“That was anything but a mistake, Eun-ji.” He replies with a smile that you couldn’t quite read, however, there is a slight longing in his eyes, which makes your heart skip a beat. “And it was quite funny, really. I literally couldn’t remember that we made out, but the next thing I know, I’m looking at my phone and see that we have a date planned in the next few days.”

You chuckle again at the memory, remembering how confused he was when you messaged him to confirm the details about the date.

“Alright, it’s my turn.” You say, deciding to stop pondering on your first moments as a couple and ignore his expression, as you aren’t sure you’d be able to keep a straight face for much longer if he keeps looking at you that way.

He looks at you as if he’s still in love, which makes no sense to you whatsoever. It’s been a year, and even though you are probably still very much in love with him, he is, after all, the one that got away.

You draw a card and read out loud.

“What’s your most treasured memory with us?”

“Oh, tough one.” He replies quickly, his brows furrowing.

“Why? You can’t think of any of them?” You ask, slightly dejected.

“No, it’s not that, Eun-ji. It’s just that… I treasure all of our memories.”

“All of them?” You counter back.

“Yes.”

“Even the fights?”

“Even those.”

As he replies, you don’t know what to say any further. You want to ask some more about it, but before you get the chance to formulate a proper question in your head, he begins talking again.

“If I were to pick only one, however… I think I’d go with that one time you surprised me by coming to our concert in Europe.”

---

“Thank you! You were great tonight, and we can’t wait to come again!” Chris shouted in his microphone before heading off-stage, completely sweaty but still high on the adrenaline from being on stage in front of such a large crowd.

No matter how many times he’s done it, he could never get used to it.

“Good job, boys.” He complimented his team members with a large smile plastered on his face. “Are you ready to party for the rest of the night?”

“Oh, Chris. The manager just informed me that you have to go back to the hotel. There’s apparently something wrong with your room.” Felix frowned slightly as he approached Chris, but was unable to contain his excitement for long, so he made sure to turn around just in time for him not to notice the large smile on his face.

“An issue with my room…?” Chris contemplated with a shake of his head but decided to take the driver anyway and go back to the hotel.

After all, he could always meet up with the boys and the staff later and party, after he fixed whatever was wrong with the room and saw what the emergency was about.

He inquired about the issue at the reception, but they only informed him to head upstairs, and so, he followed suit and went to his room.

As he opened it, however, he noticed that there wasn’t anything wrong. In fact, it was the exact opposite.

There you were, in his room, sitting leisurely on the bed and smiling gleefully at him.

“You’re finally back!” You exclaimed getting off the bed, and Chris just stood silent in the doorway, as if unable to believe his eyes.

“Eun-ji?!” He asked, confusion plastered across his face. “But… how? You told me you couldn’t get off work!”

“Yeah, well, surprise! My co-worker finally agreed to switch shifts with me, so I’ll be here until you leave to the next city!”

“That’s, oh my God, I’m freaking out!” He exclaimed, immediately running towards you and hugging you tightly against his chest, peppering your face with kisses.

“Eww, you’re so sweaty!” You joked and pushed him away.

“Let’s take a shower together! How does that sound?”

“Don’t be lame, Chris. I already filled the tub, let’s have a bubble bath instead!”

“Damn, you’re the freaking best.”

“Damn right.”

You two made your way towards the bathroom, slowly undressing each other in-between kisses, and when you were completely naked, you went into the tub and washed Chan’s back, kissing his neck slowly and hugging him from behind.

“By the way, Chris, you were amazing on stage.”

“Don’t tell me you’ve also seen the concert!” He exclaimed surprised.

“Of course I did! Well, some of it, anyway. But you know what? I’m quite pissed at you. I should be the only one who gets to see these.” As you replied, you moved your hand lower until it reached his abs.

“You’re the only one who gets to touch them, baby.”

“That’s not even true. Your make-up staff touches them all the time.” You pouted, and Chris started laughing at your antics.

Although he couldn’t see you, as you were still hugging him from behind, he knew you well enough to know the face you were making.

“I missed you.” You whispered.

“Me too, baby.” He replied and turned around, making sure to splash a ton of water on the floor in the process, and kissed you again. “Wanna get out so I can show you how much I’ve missed you?”

“Hell yeah.”

---

“That’s a good memory, yeah.” You chuckle, your cheeks growing slightly red remembering the steaming night you two shared, and the morning sex afterwards.

You couldn’t deny that Chris was the best you’ve ever had in every way, and your body already got hot at the thought of him touching you like that.

“So, I guess that makes it my turn.” Chris says with a clear of his throat, and you wonder if he is thinking about the same things as you.

“Go ahead.” You smile and point him towards the cards on his deck.

“Have you slept with anyone else since we’ve broken up?” Chris reads out loud, but before taking his eyes away from the card, he continues by saying: “Wait, you don’t have to respond to this. Can we skip this question?”

He looks at the staff members and places the card down, but you don’t have anything to hide. It wouldn’t have mattered anyway if you slept or didn’t sleep with anyone else. It’s not like it’s any of his business to care and get affected by your reply.

“I didn’t.” You say quietly and reach towards a new card but decide to ask as well. “Have you?”

“Eun-ji…” He frowns.

“Sorry for asking.” You shrug and then turn your card up. “The next questions reads-”

“I haven’t.” He cuts you off and averts his gaze, moment when you look at him confused.

“What?”

“I haven’t… slept with anyone else.” Chris confesses, leaving you utterly speechless.

“Oh. Alright… uhm… the next question says… what was the worst part about our relationship?” You tuck your hair behind your ear, a habit you have whenever you get nervous.

“Oh, that’s an easy one.” He chuckles. “It was definitely me.”

“What?” You frown. “Chris, you know that’s not true.”

“But it is… the fact that I was never there when you needed me…”

---

“So, I went shopping today. What are you wearing on Saturday? If you wear a tie, we need to get one in the same colour as my dress.” You spoke in a breath, kissing Chan's cheek.

“Saturday? What’s on Saturday?” He asked, genuinely confused.

“What?” You chuckled in disbelief. “My childhood friend invited us to her wedding, remember?”

“Oh, right!” He exclaimed. “Wait, let me check the date real quick.”

He stood up from the bed and ran to the living room, picking up his phone and opening his calendar.

“Shit. Babe…?” He smiled sheepishly.

“Don’t tell me you have other plans.” You frowned.

“I talked to our producer, and we are supposed to record some parts from that new song I told you about on Saturday… but it’s okay! I’ll make sure to finish in time so we can still go to the wedding! Don’t worry!” He immediately responded and apologised.

“Chris, the wedding is 3 hours away by car. I promised her we’d be there at 2 for the ceremony as well, not just for the party afterwards.” Your frown only deepened.

“Do we really need to go to the ceremony, though? Aren’t they… I don’t know… boring?”

“Are you being serious right now?” You sat up, annoyance plastered in your tone. “Chris, she’s my best friend. Of course we have to go to the ceremony too!”

“Eun-ji…” He started, and you got even more annoyed. It was like he wouldn’t take accountability for anything.

“I told you six months ago, Chris. How much time ahead do I have to tell you to make sure you’d clear up your schedule?”

“I’m so sorry, baby, but you know that our release schedule is really tight…”

“Why can’t I be a priority at least once, hm?! At least for a weekend!” You felt your eyes watering up. You knew his job was the most important, however, you were getting tired of always being put in second place by your boyfriend.

Hell, you were so disappointed right now. You asked him to clear up one single weekend, and he couldn’t even remember to do that.

“You know what? You’re right. I’m going to call up the producer right now and reschedule for next week, okay?” He pleaded with you, but you were already beyond disappointed with this situation.

He’s already made sure not to prioritize you, so you decided to just stop bothering him about it altogether.

“You know what? Don’t worry about it. I’ll just go on my own.”

“Eun-ji-”

“Besides, you don’t know anyone there, anyway, whereas I’ll just catch up with all my friends from school, so don’t worry. Go record your song.”

You got out of bed and made your way to the bathroom, turning on the water and hopping into the shower, trying to wash all the tears away.

---

“That was certainly… one of the lowest points in our relationship.” You reply, remembering the event with bitterness.

You ended up going alone to the wedding, and despite having fun and catching up with your old friends, having to go there on your own and having people ask you about where your boyfriend was truly hurt you.

“Mhm… I agree. I was such a dick. I’m so sorry, Eun-ji. If I were to turn back time, I would’ve never done those stupid mistakes.” He smiles apologetically.

“It’s fine… it’s all in the past anyway.” You return the same pained expression as he draws another card from the pile.

“Why did you accept to come here today?”

“Is that the question?”

“Yeah.”

“Hmm, I guess I was just… I don’t know, even though we’ve broken up on relatively good terms, if you could say that... I guess I just wanted to talk to you again?” You smile briefly and draw another card. “Do you think I was a jealous partner?”

“You?” Chris chuckles. “God, no. If anything, I was the jealous one.”

“You were?” You laugh as well.

“Yeah… You, however, were never jealous, no matter how many people I’d interact with. Even though it was never inappropriate, I really appreciated that you trusted me, no matter what.”

“Of course I trusted you.” You smile. “You never made me doubt you, not even once.”

Which was true. You knew that he truly loved you during the brief two years of your relationship, and he’s never put himself in any compromising position with anyone else to make you jealous.

“Anyway… the next card reads: Why didn’t we work out?” You read out loud and wait a few seconds for Chris’ reply.

“I think the first time I started to doubt if our relationship was fair to you was when you got fired from the company because… because you were dating me. That’s when I knew that something was fundamentally wrong with us being together, because instead of me giving you anything positive, I just ended up causing you pain.” Chris speaks slowly, letting out a long exhale at the end.

“It was… a really tough time for me. Although my job was not ideal, it was something I worked very hard for, and once our relationship became public and suddenly everyone knew about us…” You shake your head.

It was a very difficult time for you to put yourself out there and find another job when the whole country was aware of your relationship with Chris.

“However… no matter how hard it was, I could get through it only because you were there with me.” You frowned. “I never blamed you for my job, or anything like that… ever.”

“I know… But still, how could I not blame myself? I felt so guilty… Heck, even now, a year after we broke up, I’m still sending you money to help you out with rent, even though I know you have a new job and all.” He chuckles.

“And I always send it back.” You smile.

“Wait, you do?” He frowns. “Really?”

“Mhm.” You nod, and he pulls out his phone and opens his bank app, and his expression only becomes more downcast.

“Eun-ji, why?”

“It’s alright, Chris. I really don’t need it. You’d better spend it for something else.”

“But I-”

“Really, stop it. Read the next card.” You blow him off, dismissing his words, and he lets out a sigh.

“What was our worst fight?”

“Hmm… I think the most soul crushing one was when I got that new job…”

“Right, I was also thinking of that one. See? I told you I was the more jealous one in our relationship.” Chris chuckles with a shake of his head.

---

“Thank you for dropping me off.” You smiled sweetly at one of your new co-workers, who offered you a ride home in his car since you were on his way.

Ever since you got fired from JYPE, you were struggling to find a new job, but thankfully, an opportunity came your way, and you didn’t think twice to accept it.

However, the new job was quite far away, and the hours were longer. You missed your short commute home, but you were simply unable to find anything else in the area.

You got out of his car and waved him goodbye, and when you turned around, there was Chris, with an angry expression on his face.

“Who was that?” He asked immediately.

“Is this how we say hi to each other now?” You tilted your head, unable to understand why he seemed so pissed at you.

“Eun-ji, answer the question, please. Who the hell was that, and why is he dropping you off so late? Where were you?”

“At work. I started a new job, remember?” You frowned, not understand what he was trying to accuse you of, or why.

“It’s almost 9 PM, and I see a random man dropping you off home. Do you think I’m stupid or something?” He fired back, angrier than before.

“Excuse me? What are you insinuating?” You retorted.

“I’m not insinuating anything. I’m just asking you a damn question, Eun-ji.”

“And I’m answering!” You almost started shouting but decided to take a deep breath in and ask Chris to talk inside.

He followed you upstairs, but his demeanour was cold, which gave away the fact that the fight was far from over.

“Alright, we’re inside. Care to explain now?”

“There’s nothing to explain, Chris. That was just my co-worker.”

“Just your co-worker. Okay, sure. And why the hell was he giving you a ride home?” He continued to ask in an accusatory tone, which pissed you off to no end.

“I don’t know, Chris. Maybe it’s because my boyfriend is way too busy to make the time to come pick me up or at least send me a damn cab!”

You found it hard to keep your composure any longer, so the way you replied came out a bit too loud, and so began a screaming match between you two, and by far the worst fight you’ve ever had, which ended in Chris leaving your apartment and you crying your eyes out until 5AM.

---

“I am not proud at all of how I acted that night…” Chris closes his eyes and breaths in, and you can almost hear the pain in his voice.

“I can’t say I handled it too well either.” You sigh. “I mean, I always gave you my unconditional trust, and there you were, doubting me because I decided to accept a ride from my co-worker. It was really shitty of you to do that…”

“I know… I’m sorry.” He apologises, and you draw a new card.

“Who broke up with who?”

“It was me... I knew how much I was hurting you, and I just… I guess I decided that breaking up would be better for the both of us.”

---

“Are you mad at me again?” You frowned, hearing the 10th sigh getting out of Chan’s lips in the past 5 minutes.

“No, I’m not mad at you.”

“That’s what it looks like.”

“I’m just so incredibly stressed, Eun-ji. Can’t you understand that?”

“No, Chris, I’m just a child, I need you to spell it out for me.”

“Now you’re just mocking me again.”

“What the hell is wrong with you? It’s like the only thing we do lately is fight.”

“You’re right.” He let out another sigh. “I wish we wouldn’t fight anymore.”

He stood up and cupped your cheeks, pressing a firm kiss against your lips.

“Me neither. I love you, Chris. I really do.”

“I love you too, Eun-ji.”

You continued kissing slowly, your hands exploring the other’s body, and your clothes started disappearing one by one, your naked bodies collapsing on the bed on top of one another.

You made love and kissed each other again and again, until there was no space on your bodies that the other’s lips haven’t touched.

Then, you laid your head on Chan’s shoulder and closed your eyes, almost falling asleep before the sounds of a whimper stirred you awake.

“Hey, you okay?” You asked, concern plastered across your face.

“Eun-ji… I’m so sorry baby.”

“What for?” You frowned.

“I think…” Chris started, his voice immediately cut off by a cry as he separated himself from you and sat up on the bed, not even looking at you.

“What’s wrong?” You sat up as well and placed your hand on his naked back, caressing it softly.

“I think we should break up, Eun-ji.”

As he said this, it felt like your whole world collapsed around you. His words took your breath away, and as he stood up and got dressed, you began shaking your head repeatedly and trying to talk some sense into him.

“Chris… no. No, no, we can’t. What do you mean, break up? No…” You stood up and followed him out of the room and into the hallway, watching helplessly as he began putting on his shoes.

“I’m so, so sorry. But it’d be better for us to break up. All we do is fight, and I… I ruined everything…” Chris cried, and so did you, as you hanged onto him for dear life, hugging his back and trying to stop him for going through that door.

“Please, no. Please stay.” You begged. “We don’t have to break up. We can make it work, hm?”

“No… No, we can’t. We’ve been trying for so long, and yet… I put you through so much… you’d definitely be better off without me, Eun-ji.”

“You’re so fucking selfish!” You shouted, crying your heart out. “I love you so much, and yet…”

“I’ve never loved anyone as much as I love you, Eun-ji. But…” As he said this, he chocked on a sob, coughing slightly and wiping his tears away rapidly. “I just think it’d be best to stop this before I end up hurting you more, hm?”

"I'm the one who should decide if you're hurting me, Chris, not you!" You countered back, but he wouldn't hear any of it.

He turned around and hugged you tight, and the only thing you could do was beg him not to go.

He didn’t listen to you, and he left, and the house felt unbearably cold, and your bed was so empty, you loathed looking at it, knowing that just hours prior, you’ve made love on top of those sheets, and he loved you, and you loved him.

You tried calling him numerous times for the next week, but his calls would instantly get redirected to voice mail. At first, you left messaged for him, raging from disappointed, to sad, and even angry as the days passed and he wouldn’t return any of your calls, and after two weeks of no news from him, you understood that his decision was final, so you decided to finally block his number, and you haven’t looked back since.

---

“You were so incredibly cruel about that.” You reply, feeling tears well up in your eyes. However, you swallowed back the lump in your throat and didn’t allow yourself to cry in front of him again.

“I don’t know what I was thinking… To be honest, I’ve been considering breaking up for a while, but… the way I did it was indeed way too cruel, and that’s something I still regret. I just ended up hurting both of us in the process…”

You let out a bitter smile at his confession. You wanted to tell him how much it still hurt, how the break-up was still fresh in your mind even a year later, and how much you wish it never happened, but you couldn’t say anything.

You point him towards the cards, and he draws one and reads:

“Who do you think had the harder time after we broke up?”

“Honestly?” You chuckle. “I’ll selfishly say it was me. Did you have a hard time at all?”

“God, you have no idea.” He chuckles as well.

“Really?” Your eyes grow large. “But you didn’t even return my calls.”

“And when I did, I found out you blocked my number, so…” He scratches his nape.

“Oh.”

“Yeah…”

You don’t know how to react to this new information. You’ve been wondering all this time if he’s ever reached out, and now that you found he did, you heart broke.

Maybe coming to this show was really a mistake, because your heart doesn’t seem to heal at all – it’s quite the opposite. It’s weighing heavier in your chest, and it hurts so much, and it doesn't seem like you'll get any closure.

You draw another card, but the question gets cold on your tongue, and you barely find the strength to ask it.

“Did you… uhm… did you ever see yourself marrying me?” You clear your throat and look at Chris, who’s showing you the most compassionate expression, so full of love, like you haven’t broken up a year ago.

“Yes.” He replies plainly, and this finally breaks you.

You avert your gaze as you feel your eyes swelling up with tears.

“I’m sorry, can I please have a moment? I need a break.”

You take in a few deep breaths and refuse to look at Chris anymore, because you can’t help the growing feelings in your chest and the pain ever-present in your heart.

“Alright… when?” You ask after a little while, trying to wipe away any tears that might’ve fallen on your cheeks.

“I fell in love with you quickly, but… I think I knew for sure that I wanted us to… uhm… to be more than just a couple… when you first met my family.”

---

“I’m so anxious! What if they won’t like me? What if they’d think I’m not good enough for you? Oh my God, Chris, where are the presents I bought??? Did you forget to pack them? I explicitly said-”

“God, Eun-ji, calm down.” Chris chuckled. “It’s just my parents. And I put the presents right there in the bag, just as you’ve asked me to.”

“I’m so anxious, I can’t help it!” You pouted. “Where exactly?”

“Here, let me look for them.” He offered, and you plopped on the bed in Chan’s old room, almost on the verge of crying.

You were thankful that his parents were away for a few hours to some sort of event, which gave you a little time to settle in their house and mentally prepare yourself for the impending meeting.

“What?” Chris asked puzzled.

“What?” You immediately sat back up, watching as Chris looked confused.

“I’m sure I packed them. Is this the wrong bag?” He tilted his head to the right, and you just about died.

“This can’t be true!” You exclaimed as Chris closed the bag and examined it.

“Shit, I thought you said I should put them in the blue one.”

“Chris!” You grabbed a pillow and threw it at him, and he started chuckling.

“It’ll be okay, babe, don’t worry.”

“No, it won’t! I came empty handed and they’re going to hate me, and-” You sniffed and buried your face in your palms, but Chris grabbed them gently and pushed them away, grabbing your face with his hands.

“They won’t hate you. They will see how much I love you, and they will love you too.”

“I put so much thought into those presents, though.” You pouted, thinking of the matching jewellery set you got for Chan’s folks that took you ages to decide on.

Before Chris got the chance to say anything else, you heard the front door open, and your heart stood still in your chest.

“Looks like they’re here. Come on, let’s meet them.” He dragged you up from the bed and you reluctantly followed him, and there they were, in the doorway, with large smiles on their faces at the sight of their son.

Chris introduced you and they immediately made you feel welcomed by taking you into a large hug, and then you had lunch together, when you talked and told them lots of funny stories from work and from your childhood.

Chan’s mother was more than happy to hear these stories and shared some of her son’s growing up as well, with a large smile spread across her face, and you had such a pleasant time together, hours ended up passing by, and day turned to night in no time.

By the time you were back in bed next to Chris, you wondered why you worried in the first place. These people were as lovely as him, and they apparently adored you too.

---

“My mom still asks me about you.” Chris chuckles.

“I also think about them often. How are they doing?” You ask with a soft smile, remembering the good times.

There were a lot of downs in your relationship, but more than anything – bigger than the pointless fights and sleepless nights –, you had some amazing moments together that you’d do anything to relive.

It truly doesn’t feel like a whole year went by with Chris not being in your life.

“They are doing well. Like usual.” He smiles back. “I believe we have two more questions to ask.”

“Yeah, it appears so.” You reply, unable to believe that a whole hour has passed already.

“My question reads: what have you been up to ever since we’ve broken up?”

“Hmm… you know me, just hustling here and there. I’ve found a new job that’s closer to home, I started going to the gym more or less regularly, I made some new friends and tried out some hobbies – which I ended up being too bad at to pursue.” You chuckle.

“Really? Like what?” Chan’s eyes sparkle with excitement as he’s placing his elbows on the table and his head steadily on his palms, showing you that you have his undivided attention, and it feels like no time has passed at all.

If you weren’t totally sure of your feelings until now, if you had the smallest doubt in your mind that you still loved him, watching him look at you like this made it clear.

You are very much still in love with Chris, and despite everything that went down, you wish things would be different between you.

You dread the hour being over and going back home to your life, devoid of his presence.

“Uhm, don’t laugh at me please.” You start, and Chris already lets out a chuckle. “I tried dancing, painting, boxing-”

“Wait, dancing?” Chris immediately erupts into laughter. “Eun-ji, you can’t be serious!”

“And why not?” You frown jokingly.

“I mean, you were always so bad at it whenever I’d try to show you any moves!” He continues laughing.

“Well, that’s your own fault for having hard ass choreos, not mine!” You retort, laughing along. “Besides, you promised me you wouldn’t laugh!”

“I didn’t promise anything!” He raises his hands in front of him in fake defence, a large smile adorning his face.

“Oh, fuck off!” You exclaim with a chuckle, drawing the last card from your pile. “Why did you invite me here today?”

“Oh.” Chris immediately turns serious and scratches his nape in slight embarrassment. “Uhm, you might know that I have a new album coming out… a solo one?”

“Yeah, I’ve heard something about it.” You nod.

So, after all, you were right, and he only invited you here to promote it.

“I don’t know what that has to do with me, though.” You continue, feeling your heart grow heavy.

“The album is about you, that’s why.” He smiles softly. “Would you maybe like to… listen to one of the songs in it?”

“Sure.” You nod again, your heart beating harder.

“It’s called Eun-ji.”

As he says this, he pulls out his phone and presses play on the song, and the calm beats begin surrounding you two, and soon enough, Chan’s pained voice.

It’s a sad song about a missed love, about regret and pain, about every unspoken feeling Chris had ever since you’ve broken up, and you found yourself tearing up and needing a few napkins to go through the whole thing.

Chris also begins crying, wiping his tears away repeatedly until the song is over, and when it is, he clears his throat and places his phone back in his pocket.

“Eun-ji, I… I’m still in love with you. Do you think that maybe... you would ever see us getting back together? Do you think you could ever give me another chance to fix my mistakes, to fix us?”

As he confesses this, you cry even louder and decide against replying. Instead, you stand up and go directly towards him, plopping yourself in his lap and hugging him tightly, and he immediately welcomes you, his arms circling your frame and pulling you tighter against him.

“I love you too, so, so much, Chris.” You whisper as you draw back, and his hands find your cheeks as he wipes away all the tears that are falling.

“My love, I was so, so wrong and selfish.” He frowns.

You shake your head, not wanting to think about it anymore, and press your lips against his.

Your first kiss after a whole year apart is long and sweet, and he hugs you even closer, and oh, how much you’ve missed him and everything about him. How much you longed to have him again…

“I missed you so much.” You confess, and he buries his head against your chest and sobs quietly in your arms for a few moments.

“Do you… uhm… do you want to get out of here and have some lunch? And maybe dinner, too?” He asks looking right in your eyes, and you nod, so he helps you up and grabs your hand, and without a word more, you two exit the studio together with the silent understanding that you’re back together, willing to work on your mistakes and to make it work this time around.

~The End~

[familiarscars]

Lost In Control | Bad Omens | CHAPTER 05

adult content | minors do NOT interact.

⋆ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆. Bad Omens X ex-girlfriend and singer!Reader.

⋆ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒. You and Noah had a difficult ending but you still need to support each other for the band.

⋆ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆(𝐒). melancholy, ex-boyfriends, difficult relationships, alcohol abuse, bad words, drug addiction, violence, betrayal.

It's okay to not agree with the characters' attitudes during the fic. It's good to remember that the story is fiction from the author's sick mind and of course they will make dubious decisions according to my fantasies. Nothing is done to be compared to reality.

If they thought you weren’t lucid enough to make decisions, now they could be certain of it. But the truth is, you had never been so sure about anything. All you wanted now was to quiet the storm of voices inside your head, and the environment you were in wasn’t helping much.

“Please, boys, give us some privacy,” Gerard, the executive, requested, never stopping the pen spinning between his fingers. Apathetic gaze, controlled breathing, minimal facial expressions. Let’s just say your current boss wasn’t an easy man to read between the lines.

The gum in your mouth gradually lost its flavor, and the rubbery texture sticking to your molars seemed stiffer with every chew. It matched the tension in the room as glances crossed over the table, both of you waiting for the boys to leave.

“This must be some kind of terrible joke.”

“At no point did I say it was a joke,” you replied simply, eyebrows raised, making it clear how little you cared about the conversation. “I want to go back to Richmond.”

There were things you had learned from Noah without much effort, and one of them was hiding everything behind a blank face and short sentences.

“Can I know the real reason you’re acting so high and mighty, throwing away your career and, as a bonus, sabotaging my band, where I’ve invested money, time, and effort?” he asked, tapping the pen against the wooden table. “But I mean a real reason, something I should actually take seriously. Not your tantrum with one of your colleagues after he got tired of screwing you!”

His words seemed deliberately harsh, and you had expected this, knowing that any weapon he had to hurt you, he would use. But nothing moved you so easily, and he would need to try a little harder.

“Gerard…” His name left your lips almost like a song. “I’d like to remind you that this band you’re so eager to protect when you throw in our faces every dollar you’ve invested belongs to me and the boys, nothing more. I don’t remember seeing you in any of those dark attic meetings when Bad Omens was nothing!”

With utter calm, you adjusted your posture in the chair and crossed your legs, never breaking eye contact.

“It’s so easy for you to come in now, after signing a piece of paper that grants you rights to four albums and a percentage of the merchandise, and act like that makes you the owner. But that’s not how it works,” you continued, leaning toward the table. “Bad Omens owes you the last album, which I just contributed to by writing the song. So my part is done. The tour can go on without me; Noah can handle it.”

Gerard listened attentively to every word, tracing an invisible line on the table. A raspy laugh escaped him, and it was impossible not to furrow your brows, wondering what the hell the old man found so amusing.

“Someone here didn’t read their own contract, did they?” Something about that question wiped the expression off your face instantly. “When you signed with the label, there was a clause in bold letters about all members remaining until the end of the contract. The absence of one results in a breach, with a penalty of up to 40% of the band’s earnings to date.”

“You…” you spat out in disbelief. “How dare you say that when you’ve spent the last few years sabotaging our band to favor your son’s? We can’t have our own marketing team, our social media is controlled by you, and we can’t even choose our release dates!”

If the band had ever played at big festivals, the credit should go to the connections they made along the way, using them as stepping stones. From the way Gerard spoke, it almost sounded like they did an excellent job and the members were ungrateful.

Five starry-eyed kids, elated at the possibility of someone finally betting on their band. All intoxicated by the promise of a better life and being heard, with zero knowledge of how things actually worked. Easy prey for a man like him.

“Me?” He pointed at himself, spinning his chair until he was facing you again. “You want to destroy the band, the same band you arrogantly claim as yours. But let me tell you, outside that door, you and those four idiots own nothing!”

He snapped his fingers in the air.

“Most of the money you’ve earned would be spent on penalties. The name Bad Omens belongs to me until the contract ends, as do the rights to the last three releases. Noah wouldn’t be able to sing Just Pretend even in the shower without paying me for every line. Got it? Or has the crap you sniff already rotted your head?”

Your fists clenched so tightly on the table that you could hear the joints crack from a distance. Gerard had never mentioned anything like this before; nothing had ever threatened you until now. From this vantage point, you were beginning to see a different side of him.

He walked around the table until he was beside you, and the warmth of his breath stirred strands of hair on your shoulder as he leaned in close to your ear.

"If you leave, the band ends. That’s the simplest outcome. But do you really think that’s what they deserve?" he taunted. "If my memory serves me right, it’s you who owes him. Isn’t it?"

"Get away from me," you growled through clenched teeth.

"I’ll admit, this isn’t exactly a desirable prison for me either, given the mediocre artist you’ve turned into over the past few years. You ruin your own performances, bring nothing new, and are declining in every sense." His voice was laced with scorn as he gave you a pointed once-over. "Your exit would definitely be a win for the band, but that idiot Noah doesn’t see it that way, and I’m not in the mood to cancel another tour because of you two!"

Back to square one.

The band had gained traction in recent months, but not enough to make money a non-issue—especially with Gerard overloading the schedule with more shows and commitments than anyone could reasonably handle. You had savings, but doubted they’d cover even half the cost of a breach-of-contract fine.

"You’d rather keep me working against my will, even though I’m visibly showing signs of physical and mental exhaustion?"

Like an overheated device forced to run nonstop without a break or a chance to be unplugged, that’s exactly how you felt. When the weariness in your mind seeped into your body, causing pain in every part you could name, it was like a flashing red warning sign in front of your eyes.

"If we’re being honest? I don’t care what you really want. I don’t care if you have to drown yourself in drugs to keep standing on that stage. I don’t care if you wreck your skin or drink yourself into oblivion after another fight with him, as long as it leads to you writing a decent song." He sighed, almost satisfied. Gerard pulled something from his pocket—a vial with a white substance—and placed it in your hand. "Keep your word and don’t be selfish by destroying your friends’ dreams. If you truly love Noah, you know what needs to be done. He already knows you’re weak; you don’t have to prove it all the time."

The entire conversation spun in your head like a rollercoaster of words. You wanted to punch him, to shove his teeth inward and make him swallow every personal insult he’d hurled about your life and your damn history. Seeing the triumphant smirk he wore after renting a space in your mind wasn’t part of today’s plans.

Clutching the vial tightly in your hand, you turned your back on him and slammed the meeting room door behind you. Leaning against the other side, you processed everything again, forcing yourself to search for the smallest crack you could cling to in order to flip the script. Being in his grasp was suffocating, like being suspended by thin strings against a wall.

Your spiraling thoughts were interrupted when you sensed someone’s presence. The scent reached you before he did, and your eyes closed as you clenched the vial tighter before shoving it into your pocket.

"I need to talk to you about what happened today, and don’t even try to tell me—" The harsh tone Noah used dissolved in a fraction of a second, his eyes shifting from furious to melancholy. "Are you crying?"

"Do you mind getting me out of here?" you pleaded, watching as Noah nodded slowly.

He walked beside you through the entire floor, waiting for you to step into the elevator before following close behind. During the descent, there was the sweetest silence, but you knew him well enough to tell he was agonizing over the words piling up inside him.

For some reason, he continued to respect your wish to say nothing.

As you reached the building’s exit, your steps froze, and Noah looked at you in confusion. When his eyes followed yours across the street, you heard him murmur something with a heavy sigh.

In a swift motion, Noah removed his cap and placed it on your head, pulling up your hoodie and sliding on a pair of sunglasses. It wasn’t perfect, but it was what you had.

Across the street, you counted six girls wearing the band’s T-shirts. They seemed like ordinary fans, phones in hand, but any group of fans had started to terrify you over time. You never knew how they’d react to seeing you, and that paralyzed you in place.

Wrapping an arm around your shoulders, Noah tried to provide as much reassurance as he could, pulling you closer into his hoodie. It shouldn’t have been this hard—just a few steps and you’d be in the van. Nothing could go wrong.

"Noah! Noah! Noah!" one of the girls shouted excitedly as you walked in a straight line. "Can we get a picture?"

"Girls, would you mind giving us some space?" he said gently, almost surprisingly. "We really can’t stop right now."

"But we just want a picture with you!" she insisted, her tone hardening.

"And I just want you to let us pass!" he snapped, dragging you along to keep moving.

"Noah would never refuse to take a picture. It’s all her fault!" she muttered to the others. "Every time they’re close, she pushes them away from the fans!"

The last straw broke the camel’s back.

A sigh escaped your nose as you ripped off the cap and sunglasses with the same speed you broke free from Noah’s hold, spinning around to face the group.

“WHAT?” You dared to ask again, as if you hadn’t understood.

“Exactly what you heard! Every time you come back, you drive him away from the fans! Your mother is right when she says you’re a disgrace because you don’t just ruin your life—you’re ruining Noah’s too!”

“GO TO HELL, YOU FUCKING BITCH!”

Everything happened too fast. After screaming, you pounced on the girl like a leopard on its prey. Your still-injured hand, cut from smashing the mirror earlier, struck her face, the same face you relentlessly hit with blow after blow.

The flashing cameras capturing the scene didn’t faze you. You’d escaped the cage, desperate for the release of your fury. The metallic scent of her blood filled the air as she squirmed beneath you, but you pinned her torso down with your legs.

“Yes! Show them who you really are!” she shouted in between the slaps that turned her head from side to side. “A deranged lunatic who shouldn’t be allowed in society because you act like an animal.”

A strong grip on your waist yanked you back, forcing you out of your dominant position despite your resistance. Overpowering your screams, Noah threw you over his shoulder and stormed toward the van with long strides. You fought to break free along the way, but with no fans left around, he ensured you couldn’t return to the battlefield.

In the backseat, you focused on pressing the blood-soaked bandage against your fists, deliberately adding pressure. The sharp sting of pain and the remnants of glass shards still embedded in your skin kept you awake, the sensation clashing with the adrenaline surging through your chest.

“You’re going to need a stronger bandage for your hand,” he said, looking down at you. Noah was holding back a laugh with considerable difficulty. “And guess what? Everyone else left, so you’ll have to accept my help.”

“Fine.”

Noah hesitated, clearly surprised by how quickly you agreed, undoubtedly questioning if he’d heard you correctly.

“Huh… well, that wasn’t so bad. Actually, I’m impressed you still have decent reflexes,” he teased, nudging you with his elbow. “What did you say? POW! POW! POW!”

The way he pitched his voice high and reenacted the fight scene made you burst into a long laugh. Slowly, you shook your head, denying that you were giving in so easily, but there were exceptions when he reminded you of the old Noah.

“Wow!” he said, raising his eyebrows. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen you smile at me like that.”

“Well, it’s not like you give me many reasons to.”

The van stopped in front of the place you’d called home since the breakup—a small space with furniture still wrapped in plastic, its windows sealed like no one lived there. Noah scanned the area, inspecting every detail, including the pile of unopened mail. Something on the wall seemed to catch his attention.

“You still have this,” he remarked, a faint smile tugging at his lips as he touched the lightning bolt keychain hanging among your keys. He used his index finger—the one adorned with the ring you had given him. “It was the only thing my money could buy back then. A stupid keychain.”

It was never just a stupid keychain to you.

“When you moved out, some of my things came with you, and if it’s not too much to ask, I’d like them back.”

Your mind tried to sift through what he might be referring to. Clothes, records, books—maybe even his glasses. Yes, plenty of things had come with the move.

“I…”

The words lingered, dying at the edge of your lips.

“I got rid of everything that was yours.”

“Everything?” His eyes cracked like poorly cut crystal, his voice betraying a shift in tone. “You didn’t want to keep any part of me?”

And in that moment, Noah wasn’t talking about material possessions.

“No, Noah.” You clutched your palm as if it could hold you up, resisting with everything not to let your voice break. “I didn’t want any part of you.”

Reluctantly, he smiled, but his tearful eyes betrayed him as droplets rolled down his cheeks. Sniffling to fend off the emotion, he wiped his face quickly, inhaling deeply as he straightened and looked at the ceiling.

“Thanks for today. I’ll manage from here,” you assured him firmly, taking a step back. Noah nodded and adjusted himself to head toward the door but hesitated, stepping back as if he’d missed something.

“If your plan to leave the band failed, unfortunately, I’ll see you at rehearsal tomorrow,” he said, his expression shifting as quickly as a gust of wind. “But I expect you to value my time this time. I can’t deal with your lack of professionalism anymore, and I won’t let it slide from now on.”

At last, he turned his back, and the door closed as you allowed yourself to collapse into a fit of sobs, sliding down the wooden frame. Through your gasps, you thought you heard something on the other side—a sound so similar, just as anguished, slicing through the walls of your chest without anesthetic.

⭑ @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard ; @anarchydomainglory ; @iluvmewwwww75

[wannabanauthor]

Tim Minear, here's a hint for you:

For BuckTommy, you don't even have to get them back together as a couple immediately.

You can bring Tommy back to give Buck some closure, and Buck can suggest they just be friends because he misses Tommy's company.

So they still hang out with each other and Eddie, and Buck finally feels ready to start dating again. He doesn't mention it to Tommy, but maybe one day someone lets something slip about Buck going on a great date with this amazing guy, and Tommy overhears it.

Since he broke up with Buck, he knows he can't really question Buck about it, but it still irks him for the very obvious reason that he's still in love with Buck but doesn't think it's fair to ask for a second chance after breaking Buck's heart.

But the slight twist is that Buck is genuine friends with the new guy he's dating, and they like to sleep together on occasion, but it's not an actual romantic relationship. Neither one of them are looking for something serious, but they enjoy each other's company. However, that's their own private business, so Buck hasn't told anyone else the details of his situation. He just allows everyone to believe he's dating.

He knows Tommy will find out eventually, but he doesn't want to tell him or bring it up because it'd be awkward.

Tommy is noticeably irritated and a little curt with Buck on the inside, but he maintains his mask perfectly so that Buck never catches on.

Until one night, they're about to leave for a movie, but Buck's "friend" calls and Buck has to cancel his plans with Tommy.

Tommy leaves, very upset and irritated, but he doesn't even make it to his car before he turns around goes back up to Buck's loft. He knows that nothing is official with Buck's friend, so he knocks on the door, and Buck answers it.

Tommy kisses him hard and closes the door behind him. Buck is in shock, much like the first time Tommy kissed Buck.

Tommy then just lets it all out. He tells Buck that he loves him and misses him, and he hates himself for ending things the way they did and for breaking both of their hearts. He says he thought he could handle Buck dating again, but he can't. He's still in love with him and wants him back. He's willing to do anything: seek counseling, starting over, even moving in with Buck on a trial run basis.

Buck starts crying and releases all the emotions/thoughts he's had/felt since Tommy broke up with him. He's angry, rightfully so, that Tommy hurt him and that it took seeing another man in Buck's life for Tommy to make a move. He asks why Tommy waited until now to really say anything. He talks extensively of all the ways Tommy hurt him when they broke up.

Then his final questions for Tommy are "Why now? Why are you willing to make an effort now and not months ago? Do you actually see a future with me? Or are you scared of being alone if I move on?"

Tommy confesses that he's always wanted a future with Buck, but he's scared of getting hurt again. But he acknowledges that Buck is not at fault for the way past partners have treated him, and he should have stayed and talked things over with Buck instead of ending things and walking away.

Buck kisses Tommy and says he misses him and loves him too. Tommy wipes away Buck's tears and kisses him again and again.

After a few smooches, Buck pulls back and clarifies that he's still angry and hurt over the breakup, but he wants to work through it. Tommy promises not to run away like that again, or at the very least tell Buck when he needs space to think something over before making a decision.

Then they work on their relationship until enough time has passed for them to be happily ever after.

Tim Minear, this storyline alone could last you a couple seasons since Tommy is a guest recurring character.

I'm throwing you a lifeline here, so take it and make something with it. Do what white men are known for and steal this idea and make it yours. Come on, you can do it. Prove to folks that you're not just a mediocre white man who skated by on privilege instead of talent.

Because the queer people of color in this fandom are doing a better job of explaining your mess than you are.

That is all.

[shibaincubus]

How to stop being a doormat.-

-> . . . ⇢ ˗ˏˋ [By a healed people pleaser] ࿐ྂ

Being nice to others is not a bad trait, but becoming THE NICE GIRL is.

Excessive people pleasing brings you nowhere and makes you vulnerable to becoming a doormat, disrespect, and sacrificing yourself.

People pleasing isn’t just about being nice to everyone all the time; it actually messes with your head and how you think about yourself deep down. 

We can look at people pleasing from an conscious and subconscious side.

Conscious People pleasing

This is what we typically associate with people pleasing:

You can't say no: Every request feels like an obligation.

You prioritize others over yourself: Your needs take a backseat.

You apologize for everything: Even when it’s unnecessary.

You avoid conflicts: Peace at any cost, right?

You make yourself small: Shrinking your presence to fit in.

Subconscious people pleasing

This is the impact people pleasing has on your mindset and behaviours

While breaking people pleasing one should focus here more

Servant mindset -> catering to others drains your energy.

Emulating others ->  You lose sight of who you truly are.

Seeking validation: "I need to be ... to get validation 'love' from others

Ignoring your feelings: Suppressing your emotions to keep the peace.

Feeling judged: Worrying about what others think of you.

Anxiousness about acceptance: "Do they really like me?"

The Why of People pleasing

The first step in breaking free is understanding why you engage in people pleasing.

Here are some common reasons:

You might be people pleasing because of...

Anxiety: fear of disappointing others or rejection

Low self esteem: "pleasing others is the only way to get acceptance and love"

Past trauma: can link others' needs to safety and affection

Cultural or family expectations: Pressure from those around you.

Perfectionism:  The need to be flawless in the eyes of others.

Insecurity: Doubting your own worthiness.

Avoidance of Conflict: Preferring peace over confrontation.

To get the exact cause you should also utilise journaling.

Use 15 min. for three or more of these journaling prompts each

Does People pleasing really help me? How do I feel when I please people? Happy or drained?

Do I get something back by pleasing people. Is it one sided?

What is my earliest memory of people pleasing? Why did I decide to please people at that time?

How do I perceive the people that I please in reality? Do I even like them.

What is the thing I really want in this situation that I might feel too scared, vulnerable, or ashamed to ask for?

What is one thing that I'm scared people will think of me, and how is this actually true and useful for me?

What do I want to change about my people pleasing habit

This reflection makes it clear why we do it and what caused people pleasing to be ingrained in us in the first place.

Recovering from People pleasing

Start small.-

Begin by setting boundaries in low stakes situations

declining invitations to events etc.

declining requests that you don't have time or desire to do

Gradually work yourself up to more significant situations practicing assertiveness along the way.

Learn to tolerate discomfort

Recognise that asserting yourself and setting boundaries may initially feel uncomfortable or cause anxiety

Embrace the discomfort as a sign of growth and remind yourself that it's necessary to prioritize your own well being.

Strengthen your sense of self

When we are people pleasing we are placing our self worth on another person

With journaling, self care, setting personal goals and new hobbies, you can construct and identity independent of others opinions.

The Intention Interrogation

Ask yourself a specific question before agreeing to a request:

"Am I doing this because I genuinely want to, or because I'm afraid of potential consequences?" 

This can delay automatic people pleasing reflexes

Cut toxic people off

If someone is using you for their gain, it’s time to create distance.

Limit your availability and emotional investment

Create space between yourself and toxic relationships

And Trust your instincts

The 24-Hour Rule

Make it a commitment to not immediately respond to requests.

Give yourself a full day and then decide if you actually want to do this.

Get therapy

If people pleasing has a deep impact socially or otherwise on you consider therapy

It's really helpful against people pleasing if nothing else helps

That's it lovelies

People pleasing is a destructive social mechanism of ours that we developed in young years.

Unfolding these behaviours and taking a stance against pleasing others frees ourself for positive change and levelling ourselves up

[demigodpolls]

what are your thoughts on jasico (jason x nico)? love your blog its so much fun!!!

hope you guys don't mind if I redirect you over to my main blog for questions like this! I'm happy to provide my input on this blog regarding things like the PJO fandom, the poll results, and the books themselves, but for my personal opinions on characters/ships, I think it's best they're reserved for my own blog. I'm so happy that you enjoy the polls, though!! - demigodpolls

[soft-serve-soymilk]

help I’ve started listening to my chemical romance 😭

[leslieseveride]

i need lucy to be taken care of. she always goes so far out of her way to help others in need and i love that about her, but i don't think she's had a real break since her recovery from being kidnapped and so much has happened to her since then that i just need her to be hugged and taken care of. not only by tim, but by everyone else too. 🥺💗

[depresseddepot]

oughhhghh where is that "don't trust anything you think abt your life past 9pm" post when you need it

[cuteniarose]

Me: *creates an OC*

Me: *heavily implies OC will meet a bad fate*

OC: *meets bad fate*

Me:

(Alternatively, I may have started it, but @katkastrofa enabled me and now I’m losing my mind)

[nikosheba]

A couple job interview hacks from someone who has to give a job interview every single goddamn day: (disclaimer: this goes for my process and my company’s process, other companies and industries might be different)

1. There are a few things I check and a few questions I ask literally just to figure out if you can play the game and get along with others in a professional setting. Part of the job I interview for is talking to people, and we work in teams. So if you can’t “play the game” a tiny bit, it’s not going to work. Playing the game includes:

- Why do you want to work here? (just prove that you googled the company, tell me like 1 thing about us, I just want to know that you did SOME kind of preparation for this interview)

- Are you wearing professional clothing? I don’t need a suit just don’t show up in a ratty t-shirt and sweatpants.

- Are you able to speak respectfully and without dropping f-bombs all the time? Not because I’m offended but because I don’t want to be reported to HR if you wind up on my team.

- Can you follow simple directions in an interview?

2. Stop telling me protected information. I don’t want to know about what drugs or medications you’re on, I don’t want to know about you being sick, I don’t want to know if you’re planning to have children soon, I don’t want to know anything about your personal life other than “can you do the job?” 

3. When we ask, “What questions do you have for me?” here are my favorites I’ve heard: - What does the day-to-day look like for a member of your team?

- If one of your team members was not performing up to his usual standard, what steps would you take to correct that?

- What can I start doing now to accelerate my learning process in this job?

- What are some reservations you have about me as a candidate? (be ready for this emotionally....it will REALLY help you in the future, and I’ve had people save themselves from a No after this, but can be hard to hear)

- In your opinion, what skills and qualities does the ideal candidate for this job possess?

- What advice would you give to a new hire in this position/someone who wanted to break into this industry, as someone who has worked here for a while?

Those are just my tips off-the-cuff. I work in sales in marketing/SAAS, so these can be very different depending on the industry, but I wish the people I interview could read this before they show up. 

[not-neverland06]

Kid?

Logan Howlett x fem!mutant!reader A/N: I haven’t watched X-Men since I was a child, so I can’t promise this is going to be canon-compliant. I haven’t watched DP & W either, I’ve just been influenced by that one gif where Hugh Jackman shakes his head like a dog. I feel FERAL Also, I am not good at superhero names or coming up with creative powers. So you’re a mutant with matter manipulation and they call you Flux. I mean, superhero names are inherently ridiculous so I think this works. (Don’t judge me, I’m just here for the sexy man) Summary: You walk in on Logan and Jean in a compromising position and feel your heart break. You really thought he loved you, you were so wrong. (Or were you?)

It was your own fault, you should have knocked before you busted through the door. You only have yourself to blame as you struggle to catch your breath and swallow down the lump in your throat. The image of Logan standing between Jean’s bare legs is going to haunt you for a while. Their faces will keep you awake at night, cringing at yourself while you remember the humiliating moment. 

You rush towards the door, a stupidly giddy skip to your step. You were a mutant, a superhuman, and getting a chance to talk to your crush should not have you giggling like a schoolgirl. Still, you’re blind to all logic when it comes to Logan. 

You turn the corner, spotting the medbay and nearly ramming into the door you know he’s lurking behind. Charles had told you where to find him. Of course, you hadn’t paid attention to the odd tone of voice when he had very clearly warned you to knock. All you’d heard was Logan’s name and you’d zoned out for the rest of the conversation. 

And, of course, you don’t knock. You grab the door’s handle and bust in, “Hey!” Your eyes widen and your stomach plummets with a depressing plop to the floor. Your eyes nearly bug out of your head when you see the way Jean and Logan are entangled in each other. He’s leaning over her, the muscles and veins in his neck pulsing with strain. Normally, that sight would have you nearly drooling. 

Instead, all you can see is the flush on Jean’s cheeks and the way her pupils are dilated with want. Her nails are digging into his back, bare legs twined around his waist. There’s no way to misinterpret this. No way for you to later assure yourself that this was all just a misunderstanding. 

The words stumble out of your mouth in a disjointed mess that even you can’t decipher. You stand there, jaw opening and closing like a fish out of water before you finally get it together. “Charles,” you stutter out, his name sounding like a question. You wince and finally tear your gaze away from them. “Sorry,” you chuckle, trying to play off your hurt as humor. “Charles needs us all for a mission.”

You don’t give them a chance to respond, you slam the door closed, ignoring what you think might be someone calling your name. 

You shake off the mortifying memory and groan. Your head falls into your hands and you grip at your face until the pain distracts you from the embarrassment. It’s not too hard to push it all down, to pretend what happened didn’t make your heart crumble away into nothing.

Maybe it’s because you’re a mutant that you’re so used to rejection. You’re used to constantly being disappointed by people around you. Your childhood was nothing but cruelty, your crush not liking you back can’t compare to half of what you went through. 

That’s what you tell yourself, at least, to try and pretend it doesn’t hurt as much as it does. You shove it down until you think you can’t feel that dull ache anymore. And when Jean and Logan walk into the room, looking more put together, you smile at Logan like you always do. It doesn’t turn down at the corners, your eyes don’t water. You take in a deep breath and look utterly unaffected. 

He sits down beside you and leans towards you. “I can explain-”

You cut him off and shake your head. “Forget about it. I should have knocked.” You turn towards Charles who wheels himself to the front of the room. You dismiss Logan and ignore the way his stare burns into the side of your head. 

Charles looks to Jean and Logan, a smile starting. Then his gaze drifts towards you and your chest deflates when you see the look on his face. He knows, the old miser probably coasted over your thoughts and he knows. He sends you a sympathetic look that makes you feel like a little girl who just got told unicorns don’t exist. “Jean, Logan, glad that you’ve finally joined us.”

Logan nods and leans back in his chair. But his eyes remain fixed on you and it makes you wish you could stab a fork into them. You let out a short, irritated huff of air and frown at yourself. Maybe you were a little more angry than you would like to admit. 

You blame Logan for that. You never would have fallen so deep into infatuation if you hadn’t believed there was even a sliver of a chance with him. Always speaking so kindly with you when he would barely spare anyone a second glance. Constantly doing checkups on you after a particularly harsh training session with Charles. 

Your mind runs over all the small things with him, everything you’ve done together. And you’re hit with a sudden nauseating thought. Oh my god, what if he sees me paternally?

You force yourself not to physically react but inside your throwing up and fucking freaking out. You feel a sudden spark of alarm from Charles and quickly do your best to fortify your mind so he doesn’t see your major mental freakout. 

You’re not that much younger than him. Well, it’s not illegal, your crush on Logan. But what if this entire time, when you’ve been falling harder and harder for him, he’s just been platonically taking care of you? You’ve seen him do it plenty of times for the younger kids, as reluctant as he is to admit it. 

You’re spiraling further and further into panic. So much so that you have no idea what’s even being discussed or what’s going on. You get onto the jet and have to ask Storm what you’re doing. She gives you a confused look but tells you nonetheless. Just some recon on a potential mutant trafficking ring. Nothing out of the ordinary, as depressing as that is. There shouldn’t be much violence, which is why your group is particularly small today.

You nod your head, moving like you’re in a daze as you throw yourself onto a seat. Logan sits beside you, an alarmed look on his face. “You alright, kid?”

The nickname, which is used to make your stomach flutter, makes you want to throw up. How have you missed it for this long? It was laid out so plainly before you. Of course, he doesn’t want you. Not when he has perfect Jean. Bile rises in your throat with a vicious ferocity when you glare over at Jean. 

There’s a sudden petty, vindictive rage fueling you. The type you should have abandoned in high school, especially now that you’re grown. Instead, you feel like giving into Logan’s idea of what you are. You feel like reacting to all of this petulantly. 

You ignore Logan and instead catch Jean’s eyes. Slowly, and with as much intention as you can force into your gaze, you look from her to Logan and then Scott. Her eyes widen and Logan scoffs beside you. She shakes her head minutely, silently begging you not to say anything. You smile at her and stand up.

You take a step towards Scott and Logan calls out an irritated, “Kid.” You ignore him and Jean eyes you warily as you approach. She stands like she’s ready to fight you and take the jet down just to keep you quiet. You reach Scott and can hear the way Jean takes in a sharp breath. 

“Scott,” he looks up at you with his brows raised. There's a pause before you speak. Dragged on too long for Scott not to realize you’re planning something. 

Jean takes a step towards you and you grin, “Mind checking my cuffs?” Scott gives you an odd look and his confusion only gets worse as Jean slumps onto the seat beside him. She’s not even trying to hide her relief. Scott shakes his head and holds his hands out, fingers gently probing around the cuffs on your wrists. The ones that keep your powers in check. 

You’re still new to welding them. And they’re too entwined with your emotions for you to just have free range with them. If you hadn’t had the cuffs on this morning, you’re afraid you might have just turned everything around you into nothing but dust.

“They look fine, Flux.” His tone betrays his thoughts. He doesn’t know why you’d come to him for this when it’s Charles who usually deals with it. But this stupid, petty little display wasn’t for poor oblivious Scott. It was for the woman sitting next to him. The redhead whose still drilling holes into your skull. 

You’ve got leverage over her that you’ve never had before. Scott wouldn’t take her little foray with Logan very well. And all it would take is a flick of your wrist to give him a very clear image of exactly what you’d seen. Then, her picture-perfect relationship would be over in a matter of seconds. You’re sure Logan would be more than pleased. But he doesn’t seem to understand that Jean just wants to have fun with him, she’d never choose him over Scott. 

“Thanks,” there’s a bite to your tone that you’re not used to. You usually keep your emotions relatively in control. That way you won’t have to wear these cuffs one day. But you feel volatile today. You’re channeling your hurt and turning it into misguided anger. 

You drop your wrists to your sides and stalk toward the front, hovering behind Charle’s and Storm’s chairs so you don’t have to look at the others. It doesn’t take long for you to feel the floor trembling under heavy booted steps. 

Logan’s arms rest on the headrest of the chairs, bracketing you in between them so you can’t escape. He leans forward until his chest is pushed against yours and you can feel every ridge of his muscled torso pressing into you. You try not to suck in a breath, try not to play into the cliche of instantly forgetting why you’re angry when you’re faced with those muscles of his. It is hard, though, because he’s so handsome and so warm and you just want to melt into him. 

“Wanna explain what the hell that was?” His voice is so low, whispering against the shell of your ear so only you can hear. You feel the vibrations of it against your back, his tone more gravelly than it should be. 

You glance over your shoulder at him, face placid and blank. “What? Just needed some help.” Storm looks over at you both and rolls her eyes. 

Logan opens his mouth to say something but she cuts him off. “Put a pin in the lover’s spat, we’re landing.” Using just a bit of your power, you push Logan off of you and head towards the back of the jet. There’s a slight jolt as you land and then the ramp opens up and you’re practically running into the snowy forest. 

You don’t know where you are, mainly because you weren’t paying attention, you just know it's fucking freezing. The leather of your suit isn’t doing much to help fight against the chill. Charles stays on the jet and reminds you all that this is only meant to be recon. You’re partnered up with Logan, and as much as it irritates you, you’re not stupid enough to argue against it.

You have to put aside your personal grievances for this mission. You can’t risk the safety of mutants because the guy you like likes another girl. Logan seems pleased about it, stubbornly staying by your side even when you make it clear you want space. 

You both linger behind the other’s as Storm leads you through the forest. Jean is being more touchy with Scott than normal. Either to assuage her own guilt or to rub it in Logan’s face, you’re not sure which. You nearly gag as you watch them whisper to one another, you glance over at Logan to see if he notices. 

You’re startled when you see him already staring at you. His lips tick up into something mischievous when he catches your eye. That smug smirk on his face as he leans in towards you. “Wanna tell me what’s got you so pissed off?”

You roll your eyes and tamp down the rising tide of anger. “Nothing,” you bite out, jaw clenching the longer you stare at the back of Jean’s head. You’re surprised you haven’t chipped a tooth with how hard you’re grinding your teeth together. 

He scoffs, not believing you for a second. He doesn’t say anything, just gives you an expectant stare. You can taste the words forming on your tongue, an irritating urge to just spill your guts overcoming you. Before you can stop yourself you blurt out, “I’m a little surprised that’s all.”

“Oh yeah, ‘bout what?” You hate how amused he sounds, the chuckle just lying in wait under his words. Like your anger is funny to him, like he didn’t just break your stupid fucking heart. 

You stop walking, not feeling as intimidating as you want while you shiver and huddle into yourself. He seems perfectly at ease in his leather jacket and beater, still refusing to wear the uniform. He leans back and looks at you with a fondness that you can’t tell if you love or hate. “You and little Miss Perfect.” You spit the nickname with enough venom to make both of your eyes widen. 

Logan rolls his eyes and takes a step towards you, again, Storm interrupts you both. “Guys, really?” Everyone turns around to stare and you will the heat in your face away. “Not the time,” she scolds and you brush past Logan to catch up with the others. 

You come upon a warehouse, it’s nearly camouflaged under all the snow. You see two guards waiting outside the metal doors and you all disperse behind the trees. Storm glances towards Jean who focuses on the guards. They drop to the floor and you wave your hands, their guns melting into puddles of metal. 

Logan and Scott move forward, sliding the large metal doors open. You wince at the loud screeching as the rust flakes off the sides. There’s a collective quiet as you all hold your breath, waiting for them to give the all-clear. Once they run inside and run back out, you and the others quickly get to your feet and rush into the warehouse. Logan closes the doors again as you make it inside. 

“No one here?” Storm checks. Scott shakes his head and you frown. That doesn’t make any sense. Why would there be guards if there was nothing inside?

Your question is, unfortunately, answered a minute later. You find a pile of metal crates stacked on top of each other. A large beige tarp covers them. You tug at the corner, letting the fabric slide off. Your eyes flutter with disappointment, “Guys! Over here,” mutants sit inside the crates. Each of them stares at you with varying degrees of mistrust and fear. 

As awful as it is, you’ve gotten used to these quiet depressing missions. There aren’t usually many mutants in one place. They don’t like to keep the product in one spot for too long. There are only four kids here. The youngest is eleven and the oldest is seventeen. There’s nothing physically telling about their abilities so you assume it must be psychic powers. 

They don’t want to come with you until you all give them a demonstration of your powers. Proving that you’re not just trapping them and taking them somewhere worse. You’re nearly out the door when Charles's voice rings loudly through all of your minds. 

You wince at the volume, hands coming up to grip at your hair as he shouts, “Behind you!” A gunshot rings out, something hot rips across your wrist and you gasp in pain. There’s a clatter of metal as your cuff drops to the ground, the bullet having destroyed it. Without them both, they’re useless. One won’t work without the other. 

You glance up at Logan, a panicked look on your face. You can already feel the tidal wave of power thrashing and building in your chest. It’s been so long with the safety net that you forgot how bad it gets without the cuffs. 

“We need to get you out of here!” He shouts over the gunfire. He herds the group behind a cluster of metal shipment boxes. It provides enough cover for you all to try and figure out an escape plan. 

You listen to the other’s worried voices, each of them trying to console the kids. You don’t know their powers yet. Don’t know what might go wrong if they get too scared and can’t control their abilities. 

You can’t speak, breaths coming short and fast as you clutch your wrist to your chest. You know it’s delusional, hoping that if you keep a tight grip like the cuff you might be able to control yourself. You can already feel the energy leaking out of you, the ends of everyone’s hair stands on end. The wall in front of you warps and cracks like it can’t decide if it’s liquid or solid. 

You grit your teeth and look only at Storm. “You need to get out,” you force the words out. It causes physical pain to try and keep everything at bay. You can feel pressure building in your forehead, pushing out until you think you might explode. 

“We’re not leaving you,” Logan snaps. There’s shouting going on behind you, a pause as they all reload their guns. 

“Wasn’t a question,” you grit out. You look towards Jean and there’s a moment where you both put aside your differences. You both know how stubborn he is, how much he’ll fight against leaving you behind. Regenerative powers or not, it's dangerous to even be close to your gift now. You can see them all straining against the ebbing flow of your powers. Their skin shifts unnaturally like you’re already altering the atoms of their being. 

This is why you’re only allowed to train with Charles and Jean. They can get in your head, shut it down when you can’t. You’re not sure you’re going to survive yourself. Logan glances between the two of you and practically growls at Jean, “Don’t you fuckin’ dare-”

His words trail off into an unintelligible slur as he slumps forward, Jean having knocked him out with her powers. Scott grabs him and grunts under the weight of his body. “I’ll cover you,” you gasp the words out. Anything but focusing on your powers causes physical strain that makes you feel like you’re being tugged in a hundred different directions. “Just get them out,” you nod towards the kids. 

Storm nods and you slip out of cover. It isn’t hard to push your powers in one direction, to solidify the air in front of you so the bullets ricochet harmlessly off. You listen to the whine of the metal door and wait for the others to be gone. 

“They’re in the jet,” Charles's voice rings out. “Don’t do this,” he warns. You can’t think of a response, you’re not even sure what you would say. You never thought you would be able to approach death this calmly, or that this would be how you die. It feels almost pathetic, dying because you lost control on a recon mission. 

At least those kids are safe. It’s not a bad reason to die. Just not great. You glance down at the other cuff on your right hand, the air around it fluctuates until it melts off your wrist like liquid metal. With the last barely there tether off your powers, you close your eyes and release the tidal wave. 

It feels like a dam exploding. It doesn’t leak fluidly from you, it rips through you like a hailstorm of knives. Tears apart anything in its path and rewrites the molecular build of everything in its path. Screams echo through the air as men’s bones turn into brittle dust and their hearts morph into something inorganic. You’re blind to everything around you, vision clouded by the horrific release of energy. 

You can feel warmth leaking down your face. Blood still pours from the wound on your wrist, and fresh blood from other wounds you can’t even feel. You don’t know when the screams stop, or when you’re finally drained. But you feel like an empty husk as you drop to the floor, your head bouncing harshly against the cement as everything goes black. 

“I’m gonna kill you,” Logan says with a grin, glaring at Scott even though it’s Charles who is holding him back. He’s got a firm mental grasp on Logan, keeping him locked into place while he focuses on the warehouse. 

They’re waiting for the all-clear. The others know there’s always the possibility that they’re going to be collecting a body. But none of them are willing to say that, not with the look on Logan’s face. His muscles look ready to pop out of his skin with how much he’s fighting against Charles’s hold. 

Scott backs away from Logan with a scoff. He stands near Jean, but she can’t take her eyes off the restrained man. Nothing had happened this morning, Flux had seen to that. Interrupting them just as they’d started. Seeing the way he’s acting now, she’s starting to believe that nothing is ever going to happen. 

He’d looked like he was about to dismiss her when she started making a move. She can see the anger on his face, it seems he’s only ever pissed off. But underneath that, as much as he hides it, she can see the fear. He’s terrified that they're going to walk in there and you’re going to be dead. 

Jean can feel the fear of the others as well. They’ve only seen you lose control once and that had almost leveled the mansion. Charles had stopped you then, but the loss of the cuff had been so sudden Jean just barely had enough strength to keep the others blocked from your powers. She didn’t have enough time to shut you down. 

Jean, as much as she’s tried to deny it and dismiss her suspicions, can’t look Logan in the eye and ignore it anymore. It’s never been her that he’s wanted. The way he trails along beside you, always prodding and poking until you’re pissy and mouthing off. It’s not done because he finds antagonizing people fun, it's because he loves seeing you all worked up and passionate. He doesn’t view you through the same platonic lens he does the others. You’re something else to him, something she doesn’t want to name, afraid of the bitter taste it will leave on her tongue. 

Charles slumps back in his chair and Logan suddenly lunges forward. He looks a little surprised by the sudden freedom of movement, but before any of them can stop him he’s running out of the jet. “Logan,” Jean tries to call after him but he’s already a distant blur. 

Scott sighs and starts down the ramp. “Come on,” he mutters. He’s the last one who should be coming along. If anything is wrong with you, he’ll end up being Logan’s punching bag. Jean follows reluctantly, she’s not sure she wants to see what’s happened. 

Your powers are too similar in their volatile nature. The way they rule you and come so close to destroying you when you use them too much, is too familiar to Jean. She doesn’t want to see you lying dead on the floor and be reminded of her own mortality. But someone needs to make sure Logan is stuck on a leash. 

They reach where the warehouse should be. It’s nothing but a pile of rubble now. Throughout the wreckage, Jean can make out odd pools of liquid, some writhing, others still. She can only assume that these had been the men shooting at them. She doesn’t see your body, none of them do. But Logan isn’t giving up. 

He lifts different pieces of metal and tosses them off into the forest. Jean doesn’t sense your presence anywhere but she doesn’t have the heart to tell Logan to give up. After a few minutes of searching, she almost tells him to quit. But she can’t see him anymore. He’s disappeared somewhere behind a particularly large pile of roofing. A moment later, Logan stands up. His jacket is gone, wrapped around the body in his arms. None of them are close enough to see if you’re breathing. And he doesn’t say a word as he brushes past them, just keeps going back to the jet. Ororo, Scott, and Jean all share a silent look. None of them prepared for the potential fallout that’s going to happen after this. 

The first thing you feel is two familiar bands of metal around your wrists. The comforting feeling of the cuffs is enough to have you sinking further into the pillows surrounding you. Then you hear the beeping in your ear, feel the cool blow of AC, and become startlingly aware of the fact that you’re in a bed you don’t recognize. 

You groan, eyes peeling open painfully as your lashes get stuck on your skin. You reach up to rub at your face but your arms feel too weak to lift. You give up on the thought, instead staring up at the ceiling and waiting for your vision to refocus. 

A throat clears in front of you and you nearly jump out of your skin. Sitting at the end of your bed, arms crossed and a fierce glare on his face is Logan. His feet are propped up on the small table beside you. He quirks a brow and gives you a sardonic grin, “Finally awake, princess?”

Normally the name would have you up and doing somersaults, but there’s something distinctly negative and disappointed lacing his tone. It squashes any and all butterflies in your stomach. You grimace as you try and sit up. Logan is up in an instant, an annoyed look still on his face as he helps you up. 

You can’t help your dopey smile at how gentle his hands are on you. Even pissed off, he treats you so kindly. Maybe it’s the drugs relaxing you, or the fact that you almost died, but you can’t remember whatever made you mad at him. You can only feel the slide of his calloused hands against your arms, the way you shiver under his touch and crave more. 

He pulls the chair closer to you with a loud scratch of metal feet on the linoleum. You groan at the loud sound and he huffs, throwing himself down in the seat. “How do you feel?”

Your head sinks back against the wall and you finally realize you’re in the medbay. It’s why everything smells so sterile. “Like I got hit by a semi.”

He barely lets you finish your thought before he spits out, “What the fuck were you thinking?” He doesn’t ease you into this at all and you frown. You’re not sure why you would expect him to ever beat around the bush. That’s not his style, he’s always been blunt. Even when others wish he wouldn’t be. 

“What else was I supposed to do?” You ask, voice weak. Your throat feels like it’s been ripped apart. Idly, you wonder if you had been screaming in the warehouse or if this was just general strain from the whole ordeal. 

“Not put yourself at risk like that.” He leans forward, voice stern and bordering on shouting. You know he’s holding back. As much as he wants to lay into you right now, he’s stopping himself from going completely out of his mind. You appreciate it, but you almost wish he would just yell at you. You wish you had a reason to resent him, to finally get over him. “Not have Jean knock me out like that. You don’t get to make those decisions for me.”

It’s completely inappropriate and horrible timing, but you can’t help but scoff at the mention of Jean’s name. Can you not have one conversation that’s not tainted by the mention of the redhead?

Logan’s mouth snaps shut and he glares at you in disbelief. You squeeze your eyes shut, not willing to face him as embarrassment washes over you. No wonder he always calls you kid. You’re not exactly acting like an adult. You’re being a brat and for such a stupid reason too. 

Just because you like him doesn’t mean he has to reciprocate. You can’t just force your feelings on someone. “Logan,” you whisper his name, “Sorry. I’m sorry-”

He cuts you off before you can finish. Some of the anger, but not all, has ebbed from his expression. He almost looks like he’s smiling. “Jean? That’s what this is about? Jealous or something, sweetheart?”

You sputter, shocked little noises leaving you but no words. After a solid minute of restarting a sentence you don’t know how to end you finally land on a squeaky, “Who?” If you weren’t so mortified, you might have just thrown yourself out the window. Out of every cop-out you could have gone with you chose to just pretend you didn’t know who she was. Maybe you could make this work, like selective amnesia. 

Your shame only builds as Logan laughs. You cover your face and wish you could bury yourself six feet deep and never come up. You feel two rough hands wrap around your wrists, tugging your own away from your face. You don’t have the energy to fight back, so you keep your eyes on his chin. Too afraid to meet his gaze. 

“Come on,” he mutters, gently nudging your chin up until you’re forced to look at him. You're caught off guard by the look in his eyes. You recognize it, but you’d only ever seen it directed at Jean. It’s the same way you’ve always looked at him. Pure unguarded want and desire. 

The hand on your chin drifts back, fingers tangling in your hair and gently resting on your jaw. He tugs you forward until your lips are nearly touching, breaths mingling with every exhale. “Only ever wanted you, darlin'.’”

The kiss catches you off guard. It shouldn’t, deep down you knew it was coming, but the intensity behind it, the way you can practically taste how bad he wants this, wants you, catches you off guard. You lean into him, wrapping your arms around his neck and letting yourself melt into his hold. 

His free hand drifts to your waist and clutches the flimsy hospital gown until you hear it tear. You part your lips, deepening the kiss so you can finally taste him. It’s cigars and whiskey, something you should hate but is entirely intoxicating when he’s holding you so tightly. Fireworks are going off in your mind, sparks darting between your fingers as the cuffs struggle to contain all the energy suddenly pushing out of you. 

He can feel you holding back, squeezing you like it’s a promise he can take it. Take everything you throw at him. You let go as much as your cuffs will allow you. Let the energy blanket you both so you can’t hear your heart monitor going off like crazy. So you don’t feel anything other than each other. You think you’re going to devour each other like you’ll just keep kissing until neither of you can take it anymore. You don’t want to let go of him, don’t want to lose this moment. 

But you have to breathe. You don’t get to just keep living the way he does. You pull away from him slowly, every part of you dreading separating from him. His forehead drops against your own, his laughter playing along your lips as he finally hears the monitor going haywire. 

You groan, flicking your wrist and shutting it off so it can’t betray how flustered you are anymore. He gently nudges you aside so he can sit beside you on the bed. You don’t waste a second before you’re draping yourself across his chest and siphoning his warmth. He chuckles, arms coming up to wrap around you. 

“Can’t believe you were jealous of Jean.”

“Shut up,” you snipe. You look up at him and glare, “How else do you explain what you two were doing?”

He leans forward and gives you a smug grin. “She came onto me, sweetheart.” Your face screws up in distaste and jealousy. She’s going to need to learn to keep her hands to herself. He seems to feel the way you tense up, he huffs in amusement and rubs your back. “Relax, you’re gonna blow your fuse again.”

You glance down at your wrists and nuzzle further into him. You can’t believe you could have been laying on him this whole time. You never want to use a blanket again, not when you’ve got him. “I’ll be fine now that I’ve got my cuffs.”

His hand stills on your bicep. He squeezes it before his hand drifts up to your chin and he tilts your face up again. “I don’t ever want to see that again.” You’re a little surprised by the sudden shift in tone, but you knew this was coming. 

“I had to, Logan. I either took you all down with me or I went on my own.”

Logan frowns and takes in a deep breath. You place a hand on his arm, giving it a gentle squeeze. He smiles down at you, “Next time, take me with you. I’m not fucking dealing with Summers without you.”

You can’t help but chuckle. Your face grows warm and your chest expands with some odd gleeful feeling as he laces your fingers together. “Deal,” you whisper, still smiling at him. 

A/N: Okay, this might be shit, I’m not sure. I sort of rushed the ending because as I was writing this I had another idea for him. I guess I’m officially off my hiatus. 

end. — I do not own the characters or the comics/movies Wolverine/X-Men, but this writing is my own all rights reserved © not-neverland06 2024. do not copy, repost, translate & recommend elsewhere.

[mostly-imagines]

Banished

jason todd x fem!reader

aka jason misses his girlfriend

warnings: extremely mild angst, he’s just mopey (he’s fine)

Jason sits slumped over the kitchen island, head lying in his crossed arms. His now soggy cereal disregarded after barely a few bites.

Dick’s been rummaging through the cabinets for the better part of twenty minutes and Tim sits atop of the nook table shoving donuts in his mouth for the better part of thirty.

Damian trudges past them to the nook bench, taking out a knife and beginning to whittle away at a block of wood.

He glances at Jason with a scowl. “If you’re going to be so miserable, can’t you do it in your own home?”

Jason just grunts.

He wishes. You and Bruce had conspired to trap him at the mansion for the week so he could heal from injuries sustained during the last mission without risk of him suiting up and sneaking away from you in the middle of the night.

It’s not even the fact that he’s basically being babysat that’s got him so disgruntled. He wouldn’t mind it at all if you were here too. But you were dead set that the manor was too far out of your way for work, so you’d stay behind. A lose-lose for Jason.

“He’s just mad his girlfriend kicked him out,” Dick teases, swiping through the fridge.

Tim snorts from the doorway, “Me too. He’s a lot more depressing on his own.”

Jason kept his head down as he blindly reached for the spoon in his cereal and chucked it at Tim’s head.

Tim catches it without thought, continuing, “A lot more irritable, at least. Why isn’t she here?”

“She’s gotta work,” Dick says, scanning through the pantry.

Damian peeps his head up from his project. “But Todd has a rather large supply of less than legally obtained money, does he not?”

“Yeah, but she said she wants to pay her own rent, I think,” Dicks hums, finally giving up on his quest for a snack.

Damian pauses.

“So she wants to live in a tiny apartment?” He asks, a mixture of confused and horrified.

“Watch your mouth,” Jason mumbles.

“It was a genuine question!” Damian protests, face screwed up.

Jason finally lifts his head up, turning to his little brother with a raised brows. “And I’m genuinely going to break your nose.”

It’s an empty threat, maybe. But it was enough to shut Damian up anyways. Jason turns back to his cereal and swishes the bowl around.

Dick rests his arms on the counter across from Jason and speaks lowly. “You know, it is just a few days. She’s coming back.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

Jason was never one for showing his feelings—let alone talking about them.

He misses you, plain and simple. Dick could see that much clearly, though the longing looked unfamiliar on Jason.

Bruce lingers in the hallway, just past the island, listening.

He’ll admit (to himself) that he’s worried about Jason. It’s been three days and Jason has yet to show a crack in this demeanor. And while it’s not uncommon for him to stow himself away, there is something quite wrong with the way he hasn’t countered his brother’s jabs at him or teased them.

And while he could do without the blatant threats, he’s proud to hear his son defending his girlfriend, even over trivial things. It’s one of the few moments where he feels like he did right by him as a father.

And now here’s his son, caring about someone else more than he cares about himself. Someone who’s a good person, no less. It had been your idea to trick Jason into staying at the manor, you were scared that he would push his body past its limit when you couldn’t do anything to help.

Bruce knew you didn’t feel great about basically banishing him for the week but he could see that you just wanted what was best for Jason. He could see it so clearly. Maybe Bruce could never have been a perfect father, could never have given his son everything he needed despite having more money than he could ever use. Maybe he couldn’t help him, even now.

But you could.

Bruce peers around the corner, leaning up against the doorframe.

He watches Damian give up on carving at his block and start into the leg of the table.

He watches the bickering that broke out after Tim grab the last glazed donut, which was apparently the only thing Dick could possibly fathom eating.

And he watches Jason.

As Jason’s phone lights up on the counter next to him. He glances down at it with a frown before his face absolutely lights up.

He scrambles to pick the phone up and starts typing away. A quiet action that catches the attention of all of his brothers.

He types and types, waits for ten seconds for a response and types and types again—smile on his face.

The Waynes didn’t need to be the greatest detectives in the world to know who he was texting.

✨ reblog fics or face the block button ✨

[reidrum]

close to home | s.r

pairing: spencer reid x reader

a/n: this has been rotting in my brain for days now i hope you enjoy the angsty comfort this brought me <3 my requests are open (guidelines in pinned!) or if you wanna just chat hop in my ask box :) gonna hopefully work on a smut fic in the next week so keep an eye out hehe

cw: angst, hurt/comfort, protective!spencer, afab!reader who uses she/her pronouns, non bau!reader, cm type violence, reader sustains injuries from unsub, vague description of injuries, maeve mentions, derek being a good friend, spencer being so in love with reader, this takes place probably a year after maeve, inconsistencies with tls and characters but who cares

wc: 2.4k

summary: the bau is working a local case when their unsub strikes again mid investigation, hotch tells reid and morgan to go check it out but spencer finds the address of the crime to be a little too familar

_______________________________________________

whenever the bau has a case based in the dc area, it’s always a little easier on the team. familiar stomping grounds, ease of resources, no major time difference, and everyone can sleep in their own beds. the hard part about home cases is knowing there’s a serial killer in the place they know deeply, with people they cared about deeply.

spencer and callahan are in the middle of the bullpen staring at the giant white board with all the evidence they have so far. the unsub has been killing women in their mid 20s in the local dc area, with the mo currently unknown. there had already been two victims, both killed in their homes. spencer was currently trying to analyze all the information the case had alongside with what garcia was able to provide, and he was still hitting a dead end. morgan had joined them at some point too, trying to offer what he could remember from the crime scenes but to no avail. he felt his eyes straining and dropping so he decided to get more coffee, but was stopped by hotch and garcia entering the bullpen.

“police just got a 911 call about a break in, but there’s a witness this time. she was home when it happened and it looks like he didn’t expect that and tried to knock her out before escaping. i think it sounds like our unsub. morgan and reid i need you to go check out the scene and interview the witness, see what she remembers.” hotch explained.

morgan and reid nodded as garcia spoke up, “i just sent the address to your phones, it’s a house on hillcrest so it's not that far from here.”

spencer froze. he had to have heard wrong, she did not say hillcrest, “did you say hillcrest?”

“yeah hillcrest drive. it’s like, a 15 minute drive it’s not that bad.”

he felt his heart drop to his feet, a sinking feeling building in his gut. that was the street you lived on. he tried to ground himself with logic, the probability of it being your house is only 10%, but he was dreading asking the fated question.

“garcia, what’s the house number?”

“reid, i already sent it to your pho-“

“garcia, what is the house number,” he spoke again. 

please don’t say 1159 please don’t say 1159 please don’t say-

“1159.”

fuck. the color drained from his face, and the nausea was building to a head quickly. spencer hurriedly tried to think through the last time he spoke to you, last night? this morning? he doesn’t check on you as much as he does when he’s not on a case, but oh my god why can’t he remember the last time he saw you.

“reid,” hotch bellows, finally breaking spencer out of his trance, “what is it? what do you know?”

he shook his head,  “nothing. morgan, let’s go.” he grabbed his jacket and booked it out the door.

morgan, garcia, and hotch all looked at each other in concern, before morgan spoke up, “i’ll see what’s up.” the latter two nodded softly, though the worry didn’t let up in their eyes.

morgan walked up to the car to find spencer repeatedly trying to call someone on the phone, clearly unable to get through and getting really frustrated.

spencer was alerted by morgan’s presence hearing the car unlock but he didn’t even look at him, just immediately got in the car and strapped his seat belt. morgan joined him in the drivers seat giving him a wary look before turning the car on and pulling out of the bureau.

“okay reid, spill it. it’s obvious you know who lives here.” morgan speaks up.

“just drive, please.”

“because if you know something, something that could help the case, it would be helpful if we knew.”

“morgan, just drive.” he borderline yells.

he raises his eyebrows at his raised voice, “listen kid, i’m just trying to help you. i can see you’re upset but we’re on the same side, you know that.”

spencer takes a shaky breath, feeling another shade of guilt at yelling at one of his friends, for something he didn’t even know about. he’d kept you a secret for many reasons— your relationship with him was still new, and he just wanted to keep you to himself for a bit. after what happened with maeve, he felt especially more responsible at keeping you safe and making sure you didn’t get tangled up in his line of work.

some job he did of that.

the one thing he regrets about how he handled the maeve situation, was not asking for help until it was almost too late. for not doing anything about her stalker when he was part of one of the most famous fbi teams built to find people like that. he’d always live with that guilt, but he vowed not to do that with you.

he loved you so much. you were so kind, and smart, and beautiful. a breath of fresh air after feeling lost in a dark tunnel for so long. you were so understanding when he explained what he did for a living, and what had happened to him and people he cared about as a result. he still remembers what you said to him when he told you that you could have an out, if you wanted.

“any risk is worth taking if getting to be with you is the consolation prize.”

tears welled up in eyes thinking about the memory. if you were willing to take any risk, then he should be able to as well.

he cleared his throat, and morgan’s ears perked up, “my uh, my girlfriend lives there. where the unsub, at- attacked.” he voiced softly.

morgan looked at him for a beat while driving, spencer missing the way his face dropped. he tightened his hands on the wheels, and didn’t hesitate to turn the lights and siren on and shift gears to speed up.

__

the car pulled onto your street and the first thing spencer sees is the flashing light of the ambulances. morgan doesn’t even put the car in park before spencer’s bolting out hoping he can find you quickly.

he’s asking all the paramedics he’s passing if they’ve seen you or know if you’re being treated, were you transferred to a hospital and he didn’t know, the tunnel vision slowly overtaking him until he hears a voice breaking through like sunlight call out his name.

he whips his head in the direction he heard it come from, and he’s never been more grateful to be met with the beautiful sight of you. you watch his eyes widen and let out a sigh before running over to where you were sitting in the back of the ambulance. he’s definitely not thinking when he goes in to hug you, not even knowing the extent of your injuries. he’s overtaken by the desperate need to hold you in his arms so he knows you’re safe and okay.

“hi,” you choke out muffled, “funny seeing you here.”

he pulls back to inspect your face, taking note of a small cut above your left eyebrow and the beginning splotches of a bruise forming on your lower jaw. his heart aches so much looking at you, knowing what happened to you and who did this to you.

“hi, honey,” he lets out tearfully, “are you okay? i mean, of course you’re not. but what did the paramedics say? did they give you anything? are you sure they checked all your injuries? you know what, let me go call the guy over. i’ll be literally two seconds.” his panicked ramble fading off as he rounds the truck you’re sat in to find the emt.

upon his extensive questioning of the man who treated you, he found out that you had sustained a minor concussion from when the unsub swung at you with an umbrella, superficial cuts caused by a broken vase you threw to defend yourself, and a dislocated shoulder from getting shoved into the wall.

you were okay, but at what cost.

the emt leaves you two and spencer sits himself next to you on the rig. he wraps an arm around your waist and pulls you as tight as he can and the other hand cradles your head into the crook of his neck, holding you so tight he’s hoping he can squeeze the bad memories out of you. it’s at this moment of feeling safe and sound in his arms when the adrenaline of your attack wears off.

spencer hears a small whimper and feels a few hot tears trickle down his neck, your breathing gets faster as you’re attempting to beat your body’s fear response. the slow build up of sobs starting to rack your chest, and he immediately holds you tighter.

“it’s over, baby, they won’t hurt you anymore. i promise.”

you sniffle, “i know, i just can’t believe this happened. to me, to us. it’s not fair to you.” trailing off the last two words.

“to me? wh- what do you mean?”

you take a deep breath, “i don’t mean to bring it up again, i just know how eerily similar this is to a past experience you’ve had. and i hoped that i wouldn’t be in a position to make you feel that way again. i don’t know why this happened, i'm sorry.”

he looked down at you incredulously. genuinely unable to believe that you were sitting next to him on an ambulance, beaten up with bruises and scars after a home invasion attack, worried about how he would feel when he got to you. it was enough to finally let the swell of tears saved up in his eyes fall.

“oh sweetheart,” he chokes out, realizing you’ve been trying to be brave for him this whole time, “what happened is not your fault, do you understand me? my job is to always worry about you and your safety. when garcia said the address i…i couldn’t even process it, i don’t even know how i got to the car,” he shook his head, “but i am the last person you need to push your emotions down for. i will always take them in stride and love you even more for that, okay?”

“okay,” you take a shaky breath, “i love you.”

“i love you.” he leans down to press a kiss to the crown of your head.

both of your heads look up at an approaching figure, who you quickly recognize to be ssa derek morgan. you knew spencer hadn’t told the team about you yet, so you tried to sit up independently as fast as you could before he came over and suspected something.

spencer’s grip didn’t let up when he bent down and whispered, “it’s okay, he knows.” you look up at him with wide eyes when derek finally reaches you.

“reid, i already talked to the detectives and we’re good to go when you’re ready,” he turns his body to you and gives you a comforting smile, “hi sweetheart, i’m derek morgan, it’s nice to meet you.”

spencer rolls his eyes at the nickname while you giggle softly, “hi derek, i’ve heard so much about you. it's nice to finally meet you too.”

“i wish it were under better circumstances,” he sighs, “listen, i know it’s all still really fresh for you, but it might help the case if you’re able to come in for a cognitive interview, or even talk to a sketch artist.”

spencer doesn’t miss a beat before protesting, “absolutely not. we can do it later, it’s fine.”

“reid-“

you look up at him placing your hand on his chest, “spence, it’s okay. i want to help, please.”

he rests his hand on top yours and gives it a light squeeze, “okay, but i’m not leaving you alone for a second.”

“i didn’t think you would.” you smile.

“alright lovebirds, you can have your private time later, we should go now.” derek teases.

spencer groans, “see this is why i didn’t say anything.”

“you think i’m bad? wait till penelope meets her.”

__

the three of you pile into the car before starting the drive to spencer’s apartment so he could get you a change of clothes and other things you might need. you end up falling asleep in the back seat, the final stage of your shock sinking in like a rock. spencer checks on you from the rear view mirror and sees you passed out, and smiles.

“she’s cute,” derek starts, “can i ask how long?”

“nine months.” he replies, fishing for something out of his pocket.

“pretty boy hid a girl from all of us for nine months? maybe we’re not as good profilers as we thought.”

“imagine that,” he laughs, and gestures to the item in his hand, “look.”

spencer’s holding out a well loved photo booth strip with three pictures, of you and spencer from the time you went to a local county fair. you’re sitting in his lap, mostly due to the cramped space and the expansive limbs. the first picture is the two of you holding up finger guns attempting to be as back to back as you can. the second picture, you intended it to be a normal one where you both smile at the camera, but spencer couldn’t take his eyes off you and the picture captured the love struck gaze he had on you. the last one you were about to tell him the idea for it, when he grabbed your face and pulled you closer to kiss you, neither of you knowing when the final picture snapped.

the edges were worn out and frayed, clearly broken down by the oils on his fingers from pulling it out frequently. it was his most treasured item, a constant reminder of what was always waiting for him when he got back from grueling cases, and how lucky he was to have you in his life.

“you look really happy, kid.” derek says, thinking about the many times he’s seen his friend at rock bottom, the things that have been so brutally taken from him, and the suffering he’s had at the hands of his job. his heart warms for his friend, who seemed to finally catch a break.

“i am.”

[nanaslutt]

oh my god please make another part of gojo teaching us that was so good holy shit

Gojo teaches you how to touch him<3

Pt. 1 here

contains: fem reader, guided jerking off, experienced gojo, size kink if you squint, so much dirty talk, corruption kink, overstimulation, first time making out, gojo walks you through everything, cum eating

MDNI

°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔*:･°❀⋆.ೃ࿔

“Wanna learn how to touch a dick?” his question rang in your ears like a flash grenade had gone off. He was referring to himself right? You had to remind yourself how to breathe at how anxious his question made you. Touching yourself had made you embarrassed and self aware enough as it is, so touching someone else? The thought made you feel mortified.

Gojo must’ve picked up on your anxiousness because he used his big hands to rub comfortingly up and down your forearms, “Hey, if you’re not comfortable we can always stop here, you’ve already done so good.” He comforted.

Gojo might be unserious 99% of the time, but when it came to making you feel safe, he really nailed it. You came to the right person in asking for help with this kind of thing.

"N-no, I think I want to its just.. I dont know what im doing." You confess, even though he already knew. Gojo giggled, making the weight on your shoulders lift a bit at the sound, "Baby, I know, thats why Im gonna teach you, if you’ll let me." He smiles, leaning his body forward so you could see his face-- the visual of him smiling eased your nerves slightly.

"Right.. but what if I'm still not any good?" You say, shyly. "I almost came in my pants just watching you cum so.. I'm pretty sure you will do juuust fine." He confessed, making you huff out a laugh. "O-okay, what should I do?" You asked, turning your body so you were facing him, reaching over to grab your previously discarded panties while you waited for him to answer.

"The first thing you can do is forget about these," Gojo took your soaked panties from your hand, making you scoff as he twirled them around his finger before pocketing the fabric as quick as he snatched them, "The view of your little pussy is so cute, don't want these to get in the way of this eye candy." He praised, making you blush and look away from his intimidating gaze.

He brought his hand up to your face after pulling his hand out of his pocket-- caressing the side of your cheek comfortingly, "Come here." He instructed, sliding down on the headboard so he was propped comfortingly against the pillows, "On my lap," He adds when you hesitate to move twords him.

You situated yourself comfortably on his thighs, right under his crotch, you placed your hands on his lower stomach, staring at his intimidating bulge while you waited for his words to come. "You wanna start by touching it over his pants, just like you did for yourself." He instructs, speaking generally.

You picked your hands up from his stomach, hovering them a couple inches over his crotch before taking a deep breath and biting your lip. "How should I.. touch it?" you ask uncertainty laced in your words. "Wrap your hand around it the best you can and rub," He tells you, placing his hands on your thighs and rubbing his thumb on your skin for comfort.

You held your breath before you made contact with him, making him hiss air into his lungs through his teeth at the feeling of properly being touched after so much tension. You softly rubbed him up and down, gulping at how big he felt in your hand. "You can rub a little harder, it's not gonna break," He laughed, making you blush and whisper out a quiet 'sorry' as you briefly made eye contact with him, quickly averting your gaze back down to his crotch.

You gripped him through his pants, stroking him rougher now but still slowly, up and down. You took a peek at his face from under your lashes, watching him lick his lips and blink rapidly, his eyes focused on your hand at work on him.

"Yeah, yeah, just like that." He praised, keeping his eyes glued down between the two of you. You felt your face heat up when his cock jumped against your hand, it felt so hot even through his pants. The thought of seeing a real dick, unobstructed by fabric was making your head spin.

The man underneath you truly thought he would've came the second you touched him, it was a miracle from the heavens that he had managed to hold back and not bust in his pants at the first contact.

Your inexperience turned him on to no extent. He just loved the idea of corrupting you, showing you all of the amazing things you could feel, everything that you've been missing out on. He swore he would ruin you for anyone else—make you addicted to him so you never even thought about doing this with anyone else.

"D-does this feel good?" You ask genuinely, you had noticed his expressions and reactions to your touch—and they seemed like good ones—but you had no idea how someone was supposed to react when you touched them like this, hence why you asked for his confirmation.

"Feels better than you know." He grinned, his body running warmer the longer you stroked him over his pants. "It feels so big." You confessed, unaware of how your words went straight to his head and dick.

"Yeah?" his smirk grew as he felt his own ego inflate at your words, not like he needed that. "Yeah.." You meekly replied, "It keeps twitching too," you told him like he was unaware. "I know baby, means you're doing a good job." He praised once more, making you pull your bottom lip between your teeth.

"Wanna see it?" He asked after he deemed that you had been touching him outside his pants for an adequate amount of time. You swallowed hard, stilling your hand on his cock as it continued to jump under the weight of your palm. "Yes, please." You answered, sliding your hands up his shirt and feeling his hard abs before you slid them back down to hold onto the hem of his pants. "Should I take your boxers off too, or?" You question, hesitating.

He smiled at you, giving you a short nod. You grabbed his pants and boxers alike, beginning to pull them down his body— gojo lifted his hips up to aid your efforts, jaw dropping in an open-mouthed smile when his hard cock sprung up and slapped against his abdomen.

Your mouth opened in a small o shape, running dry at the sheer size of his now unobstructed cock. There was a string of pre that had already dropped down against his abdomen, connecting the two.

It looked as thick as it felt, a nice upwards curve to it, and the tip was flushed a pretty pink color. It was the prettiest and only dick you’d ever seen.

“You like what you see, cutie?” he teased, making his cock jump as you stared between the appendage and his penetrating gaze. “Fuck.. y-yeah.” you confessed, feeling yourself start to throb between your legs at the new visual.

“Go ahead an touch it, the same as you did before.” Gojo instructed. You slowly reached out, wrapping your hand around his length, noticing that your fingers couldn’t wrap all the way around his girth.

The man underneath you couldn’t resist as he thrusted his hips up into your hand, biting his lip at the direct contact. “Your hand is so fucking soft” He praised, “Go ahead and spit on it for me, it doesn’t feel very good when it’s dry.” he told you.

The gears in your head were still turning at what you were actually doing right now. Without saying anything, you leaned down a bit, collecting the saliva in your mouth before you spit right onto his cockhead, making him gasp.

You brought your hand to his tip, rubbing it around in circles before sliding your hand down the length of his cock and coating it in your spit, easing the slide. “Fuuuck, just like that, shit-“ Gojo cursed, tipping his head back against the pillows and squeezing his eyes shut.

“S-squeeze harder at the tip,” he instructed, remembering he was supposed to be teaching you, so staying silent and moaning probably wouldn’t do you much good. “T-the tip is more sensitive than the rest of the cock, so make sure to pay more attention to it.” he tells you.

“Is it kinda like the clit?” You ask, which makes him giggle before he responds, “Sorta..” he answeres, staring at the ceiling in thought before he continues, “Yeah actually, pretty similar, but if you spend too much time on just the tip it can get a little too sensitive.” He explains.

“Sensitive how?” you ask, continuing your slow but heavy strokes on his cock, using the knowledge he just told you in squeezing harder against his tip. “Why don’t I show you?” he says.

“Take one hand and keep stroking me just like you’re doing, with the other, lay your palm flat- yeah just like that- then curl your hand over the entirety of my tip, and rotate your wrist in circles.” Gojo instructed, digging his nails into your thighs prematurely as he braced himself for the intense overstimulating pleasure that was about to come.

“This won’t hurt you right?” you ask, getting your hands into place but keeping them still as you awaited his answer. “You’re so sweet~” he cooed, “I’ll stop you if it’s too much.”

With that, you started, quickly jerking the length of his cock while rotating your wrist over his dick in quick circles. Immediately his body started reacting, back arching and abs clenching uncontrollably as he bit his lip and dug his nails deeper into your skin to keep himself grounded.

“K- haaah- keep g-going-“ he moaned out, his legs jerking and twitching underneath you as you kept up your antics. “Fuck! f-fuck-“ The white haired man squeezed his eyes shut as his body spasmed without his permission.

Your cunt was throbbing at how you were able to bring a man as strong as Gojo to this state. “Ngh~” he was whining and moaning against the sheets, head thrashing back and forth as he tried to keep his voice down.

You never wanted this to end, you finally understood what he meant when he said he was worked up from just watching you play with yourself, as you felt your cunt clench, slick dripping down your leg from your tight hole.

His large hand came down to stop your wrist, panting heavily he spoke, “O-okay, okay- fuck, that’s enough.” He groaned when the pleasure quickly became too much. "S-sorry, are you okay?" you choked, once again making him smile at how sweet you were. "I'm just fine baby, it's just a little overwhelming," He said, releasing your wrist and placing his hand back on your thighs.

"Did so fucking good though, listened just like I told you to." He smirked, gripping your thighs and making you look up at him through your lashes. You pouted out your bottom lip a bit in embarrassment, trying your best to not look away from his intimidating gaze. "Alright, class is back in session, go ahead and pick up where you left off." He continued.

You released your hand that was caressing his tip, going back to jerking him off steadily with the one hand. "Don't forget about the balls either, you just wanna massage them softly," he instructs after a couple seconds of your continued ministrations. You nod, acknowledging his words before you spit on your other hand, and bring it down to his warm balls.

"Oh shit- haha- didn't even have to tell you to spit." He says, amazement laced in his words, "You had n-nothing to worry about, you're doing so fucking good." He reassured when you started to expertly roll and massage his sack in your hand, timing your motions perfectly with the jerking of his cock.

"Cmere baby," He asked, growing needier and needier at the more stimulation you provided him with. You tilted your head at him, confused, making him laugh. "Come give me a kiss, pretty thing." He clarifies. You hesitate slightly, You've kissed one or two people before, but you've never made out with anyone per se, which is what you were assuming Gojo wanted right now.

"Follow my lead, I'll show you how to make kissing feel as good as sex." He boldly said, making you blush. You released your hold on his balls, opting to place your hand against his hard chest for stability as you leaned forward, not stopping your ministrations on his cock. He gave you a toothy grin, his big hands coming up to grab your waist before he opened his mouth, huffing out a small laugh before he pressed your lips together.

He immediately took the lead, moving his lips against your own, massaging his soft lips with his. He groaned into the kiss, which made you reciprocate the sound, whining into his mouth. Where you normally would've pulled away by now, Gojo instead opened his mouth against you and pressed another kiss to your lips, repeating the action, and continuing the kiss.

You unawarely squeezed his cock harder at the stimulation, you had no idea that kissing could feel so erotic. When Gojo felt your fist tighten up around him, he pulled back half an inch from the kiss, panting slightly against your lips before he spoke needily, "Faster baby, give it to me faster." He rushed before conjoining your lips once more, rougher this time.

You felt him poke his tongue out and lick against your lips, "Open your mouth for me, baby," He said to you between kisses, to which you complied. He took this new opportunity to lick his tongue into your mouth. You thought French kissing would feel gross and unpleasant, but this was nothing of the sort, it really felt like he was fucking your mouth. He expertly massaged the inside of your mouth with his warm appendage, making you throb between your legs.

You remembered his words; which had told you to follow his lead; as you reciprocated, darting your tongue out and intertwining it with his, and it felt even better. "Mmmmm" Gojo hummed against your lips when he felt your tongue join the fun. Hips lips suddenly attached to your bottom one, slowing down the kiss briefly as he sucked it into his mouth and bit it between his teeth, smirking before he let it go, chasing your lip as it bounced back to your face.

You had switched up your technique on his cock just seconds ago, rotating your wrist over his entire cock, and pulsing your grip to imitate your pussy walls, giving him harder strokes when you slid your hand down him; you were having fun with it, and it must've been working.

Gojo pulled away from the kiss, allowing you to sit back up as he panted heavily, his cock was steadily dripping more and more pre onto your fingers, easing the slide against his cock while you jerked him off. "Did you like that?" He asked, referring to the kiss. "Y-yeah, I didn't know kissing could feel so good," you replied honestly, making him smile.

"I know~ made your pussy feel all needy again, huh?" he said, having noticed the wetness that was coating your inner thighs, his words sending a wave of sudden awareness through you, making you want to cower away. "Aww, don't get shy on me baby, look at me," He started, "I'm the one getting my cock jerked off, about to fucking burst," The man giggled, "If anyone should be embarrassed it's me~"

"You're about to cum?" You asked, those words being the only ones that made it into your dizzy head. "Yeah, and it's all cos' of you, didn't even have to give you that much i-instruction, you're a pro." he praised, making you look away from his gaze and instead focus on his cock in your smaller hand. "You wanna make me cum?" He asked.

"Wanna watch you cum.." You replied, making him laugh breathlessly as he felt your words go straight to his balls, "Oh don't worry, you will," He informed you, tipping his head back once more against the pillows, and letting himself really feel as you stroked your fingertips along his lower abs, while keeping the steady and mind numbing pace on his cock.

"Fuck, wish I was cuming inside your pussy," He suddenly moaned, catching you off guard with his words as he gripped your hips with his large hands. "Would fill you up so fucking full." He babbled, inching closer and closer to his high with every stroke, slightly thrusting up into your warm hand.

proofread-----

"If I try hard enough, your little hand starts to feel like your perfect fucking cunt," He groaned through his teeth, "but I just know you would be so much warmer and wetter- fuck-." He moaned at his own words, working himself up as he dropped his chin forward to look at your hand on him, his jaw opened in a small o shape.

"You want that? Huh? Want me to split you open on my cock and fill you up with my cum?" His words had gotten so filthy and shameless, and so fast, it was giving you whiplash. You nodded meekly, not trusting your voice right now as his words alone made you feel like you were going to cum. But that wasn't good enough for Gojo. "Gotta hear you say it baby, need you to tell me you need it." He groaned through his teeth, making your body move above him as he thrust his hips upwards, helping you fuck his cock with your hand.

"Y-yes Satoru I want it." You said, meaning every word, "What do you want?" He rushed out, trying to hold back from cumming to hear you say those magic words. His balls and shaft alike were twitching so strongly against your hold, getting ready to release his seed. "W-want you to come inside me, please give it t-to me." You blushed at your own words, the embarrassment worsening when he groaned shamelessly at them. His pretty eyes rolled back in his head as his orgasm crashed down on him. "Fuck- coming-" he warned before you felt his warm seed start to cover your hand.

Long rope after rope of his cum coated your hard, making you moan with him at the erotic sight. His abs were clenching under your hand, body twitching and back arching slightly, similar to how your own did when you had cum, as you fucked him through his high. You kept jerking him off even after the spasms of his body ceased, and his cock started to soften in your hold.

His large hand shot up and gripped your wrist harshly. "C-careful," He laughed, heaving air into his lungs, "It's so fucking sensitive right after we cum." He said.

"Shit s-sorry," You blushed, releasing his dick from your soiled hand as you stared at his seed that covered it, amazed by how much there was. "Don't be sorry baby, I haven't cum that hard in my life, and all just from your hand" He laughed, rubbing his large hands up the length of your torso while he let himself catch his breath, his soft cock resting against his tummy.

An idea popped into your head, remembering how he had sucked off your cum from your own fingers after he made you finish, and it made you wonder what he tasted like too. Absentmindedly you brought your hand up to your mouth, not paying attention to the man below you as he watched your every movement with bated breath, knowing exactly what you were about to do.

You let your tongue poke out from your open mouth, licking up his seed at tasting him on your tongue. It was bitter, but not overwhelmingly so, there was something almost sweet about it, which made you suck your fingers completely into your mouth, swallowing his seed that coated them.

Gojo watched with a slack jaw at the show you were putting on, his cock twitched to life as he watched you eagerly lick up his cum. "Fuuuck." He drew, bringing your attention back to him as you popped your fingers out of your mouth, giving him a small smile that made his brain short-circuit.

"I have so much to teach you." He grinned, caressing the side of your face as you closed your eyes, and leaned your face into his hand.

pt.3

[neverendingford]

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