#I would take it if it meant my voice dropped but it hasn’t

[mcnuggyy]

ugh maybe I should just give in and start voice training :-/ few months on my new dose and still no changes waaa… I know my voice is already naturally a bit deeper but it still feels sooo high pitched to me 😞 misery

[priniya]

˗ˏ` EMOTIONS! 🍵 ´ˎ˗

pairing. theodore nott x reader

summary. theo never handled his emotions right, and when his girlfriend shows up in a wrong moment, things escalate and theodore doesn’t know how to fix it.

THEO HAS BEEN A TICKING BOMB LATELY and you knew that. it’s been bothering you, but every time you tried talking some senses into him, he brushed it all off, saying something too stupid and reckless for you to hear, so the topic was dropped sooner than it was brought up.

it was one of those times again, when a recurring thought was planted into your brain that you didn’t know your boyfriend like you thought you would. theodore hasn’t been himself lately, which made you worry tons. he’s been smoking much more and getting into fights more often as well as getting into trouble with the teachers, losing the points for your house, which… well, you didn’t care that much about it. what you cared for was theo’s wellbeing.

since it’s been a christmas break, you had gone home to spend time with your family, which meant your contant with theo was limited to a few letters that he was doing somewhat fine, yet you’ve been smart enough to know that spending christmas with his father and grandfather could never make him feel fine, not even a little bit. it was the breaking point in you that you’ve decided it’s the end of brushing you off.

“riddle, berkshire – out.” you barged into the dorm, glaring at your boyfriend’s dormmates, causing the first one to groan in annoyance.

“jesus, can’t be in your own room anymore.” mattheo rolled his eyes at you, yet he knew it was coming, so he dragged his ass up, patting theo’s back. “good luck with that one, nott.” he muttered before leaving the room with lorenzo, who just sent you a sympathetic smile.

theo, on the other hand, just glanced at you for a second, knitting his eyebrows together. “what do you want, l/n?” he asked, his nose still burried in between pages of a book you gave him for christmas.

“oh, last name basis, al–fucking–right.” you grumbled, grabbing the book away from his hands, your body trembling with fury. you hadn’t had a proper conversation in over two weeks, yet he couldn’t bring himself to be a decent man towards you. “what’s going on with you, nott?”

“get off my dick, y/n, really.” he rolled his eyes, expression matching the one his roommate had a few moments earlier. “i don’t have fucking time for this shit.” theo added, clearly agitated.

“well, you want it — you have it, i’m not getting on your dick anytime soon.” your voice was thick with emotion as the mention of celibacy earning you a look. ��i know something’s going on. i know that, because i’m your girlfriend and i care about you. just trust–” you started, but the sentence wasn’t meant to be finished, because nott cut you off.

“then don’t. merlin, i don’t need a fucking babysitter, hoovering over my ass all the time. you’re not my bloody therapist, l/n. i don’t fucking need you to stick your nose into my business 24/7.” theodore stood up, his nose almost brushing yours before you took a step back, startled at the sudden outburst. “and sex? don’t amuse me, for merlin’s sake. i could leave the dorm right now and find someone to bone if i wanted to.” his tone was harsh, while his words were like knives thrown at you as a reward for being a caring girlfriend.

your boyfriend looked at his knuckles, his gaze focusing on the ring as he begun to take it off, making your pupils widen. “go. give it to someone who’s gonna be crazy enough to put up with your obsession about emotions. i’m not doing that anymore.” he muttered, pushing the ring into your palm.

“fine.” was the only thing that came to your mind after his words. your body continued to tremble and at this point, you couldn’t have been sure if it was your annoyance or broken heart that he just broke up with you. “just keep your promise and stay away from me. maybe join the death eaters too, for all i care, you’ll fit in perfectly.” with that, you left his dorm, slamming the door behind you as you fought with tears flowing down your cheeks.

“troubles in paradise?” mattheo grinned at you playfully, not noticing your tears-stained face as you were storming through the common room to the exit of the room.

“go fuck yourself, riddle.”

it wasn’t even five minutes later, when mattheo entered his shared dorm, his expression utterly confused as his mind was doing its best to connect the dots. “what’s with that gal of yours?” he asked theo, plopping down onto his bed, lightning up a cigarette right after.

“she’s not my gal anymore.” nott mumbled in response, almost untouched by the entire thing that just happened and that took his best friend by surprise.

“what do you mean she’s not your gal anymore?” he asked, his frown deepening. “lad, don’t tell me she broke up with you, you love this girl to death.” riddle added, scanning his friend’s face for any sign of uneasiness or a clue to understand all of it.

“i broke up with her.” theo replied with a shrug.

“merlin, man, why?” mattheo asked another question, this time being left without an answer as nott shut the curtains of his bed, putting on a silence spell.

IGNORING THEODORE ALL WEEK HAS BEEN EASY as you weren’t in the same year as him. you’ve been grovelling inside about the break-up, but from what your mother had always told you, when you were younger, you remembered that all the teenage boys were shitty and you couldn’t — by any means — let him know how much hurt you were. ignoring him was easy, all because, in your eyes, he didn’t even take any effort to show you remorse for what happened, from what you’ve known, he didn’t even look at you once.

the worst part of loving theodore nott was not being able to brush off all the concerns and worries that lived rent free in your mind, whenever you’ve noticed him walking through the hallways. nevertheless, he didn’t want you to care about him at all, so that was what you were planning on doing. kept your head high and your feet steady on the ground.

what you didn’t know, was that it wasn’t pride that made him keep his eyes away from you, but guilt. from the moment he woke up the day following your argument, his organism was flooded with guilt and shame to the point, where he couldn’t look at himself in the mirror.

he fucked everything up just like his father always told him that he would. he broke the promise he’d made to himself that he wouldn’t drive you away, wouldn’t hurt you like his father hurt his mom, yet he did. you were the only person in his world that made him feel like a normal human being, one, who could love and be loved, but he had to ruin it all, because his pride wouldn’t let him to open up to you.

it’s been already a week since the biggest mistake of his life, as he called it, and theo’s entire body hurt. he was popping pills with blaise like candies, because sobriety and consciousness made everything worse. he couldn’t stop thinking about you — about your expression, when he broke things off with you, the hurt in your eyes and the way you were holding yourself after that.

people, not close enough to you, might’ve been fooled by the facade you’ve built around you, though not theo. he’d known you for years prior to your relationship, he’d seen you both happy and miserable and now? now, you were beyond miserable. you might’ve kept your head high with the biggest smile on your face, but he’s known. he always would — whether you wanted him to or not.

quidditch practices were the worst, all because you were always there, yet never watching him. it wasn’t even up to you to be there and theo was certain of it. you were there, so your best friend wouldn’t have to sit through an entire practice alone, while she watched lorenzo with starstruck expression all the fucking time.

“lad, you have to apologise to her, sort it out.” enzo sighed, putting a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. “aoife’s worried about her. ‘m not really surprised, though, she started smoking weed on daily-basis again. aoif’s saying she can’t remember, when she saw her sober for the last time, but it’s better than bawling her eyes out over some asshole, aoif’s words, not mine.” having a friend, who was also somehow close to you and your best friend was a blessing in disguise. lorenzo kept him updated, not leaving out all the insults aoife lynch threw at him for breaking her best friend’s heart.

a loud sigh left theo’s lips as he leaned over the table, his forehead falling onto the wooden surface as he let out a groan. “i don’t even know what to do, enzo.”

“my suggestion? get your shit together.” mattheo chimed in, a playful grin on his face. “i mean it, theo. the gal of yours keeps showing up to my spot and i can’t deal with her tears anymore. get your shit together and fix it.”

“the problem is, matt, i don’t know how.”

the opportunity, although being totally… stupid, occurred at the end of another week during a game with hufflepuffs. theo’s entered another stage of grief and has been going around the school angry at everything. so, when the game came, he was playing rougher than usually, because he needed an outlet to the built-up anger.

of course, you’ve noticed. how couldn’t you? you’ve been keeping an eye on him for the entire two weeks. despite your promise to aoife, you couldn’t let it go. no matter who he was, your boyfriend, a friend, a stranger or an enemy, you couldn’t stop worrying about him and doing your best to look out for him. so… when he was forcefully pushed off his broom by diggory, you were running down the stairs before he even hit the ground. you needed to be beside him or it would kill you.

he was unconcious for almost two more days, making it a sixteen days without hearing his voice and you were going crazy, spending every single second, occupying the tabletop placed next to his bed. his hands in between yours as you kept it close to you. did he deeply pained you with his words? yes. would you let him be alone in the hospital wing? of course not.

“y/n/n.” he whispered suddenly, his voice breaking. “i’m so sorry.” nott let out and you weren’t sure if it was some kind of sleep talking or your delusions leading you on. “i’m so sorry, baby.” he repeated his words with a term of endearment, squeezing your hand weakly.

“theodore…” your words hitched in your throat as you moved the hair aside from his forehead. “don’t think about it now.” you whispered in a coy manner. “it doesn’t matter.”

“i can’t.” he coughed out. “i can’t stop thinking about it. about you. i’ve acted like a dick, but i didn’t mean it. you’re my world, baby, i’m so, so sorry. you were right all this time, i build up my emotions inside of me and let it get the best of me in the worst moment. i’m so sorry i hurt you, i swear i hate myself for—” he continued his rambling, slowly opening his eyes to have a look at you.

“hey, teddy, please, don’t think about it now.” you pleaded, still holding his hand. your thumb caressing his palm. “just rest, okay? please. we’ll talk about once you’re well-rested and out of here.” your voice was gentle.

he shifted in his hospital bed, hissing as his ribcage hurt immensely. “no, cara, please.” he muttered, bringing his lips to your palm. “listen, i can’t get over what i told you. i’m so fucking sorry, baby.” he whispered.

“teddy…” you started, but he cut you off.

“no. i’m sorry i said all those things to you, you didn’t deserve all the shit i gave you.” he let out a sigh, rubbing his forehead. “you need to hit me. for all the pain and suffering. oh god, and the tears. you should just kill me at this point.” theo muttered, and honestly? he did deserve the beating for what he’s done, but the three days of unconsciousness due being knocked off the broom, you could let it go. it could be his fate share of beating.

“just shut up, will you?” you sighed, planting a tender kiss on his lips. “we’re fine.”

[odoraful]

𝐂𝐇𝐎𝐂𝐎𝐋𝐀𝐓𝐄.ᐟ (𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐦𝐨𝐫𝐞 𝐢 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐲𝐨𝐮, 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐠𝐞𝐭)

zayne is known for enjoying desserts, but there’s a sweet he hasn’t tried yet that he’s been craving.

⟡ content: zayne x gn!reader; early stage of the established relationship; first kiss; very sweet (both literally and figuratively); reader being flustered and zayne being bold; you basically live in zayne's mind 24/7; sfw; 1.6k

⟡ a/n: i was listening to day 6's song chocolate and inspiration struck me (>\\<) like "i often imagine when i kiss you, i'm curious about how it would feel... i can't control my heart, i think there's another me inside me" WAAH i thought it was fitting for zayne!

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It wasn’t typical of Zayne to be indulgent. Everything was done with careful moderation and consideration, from purchasing clothing to committing to exercise. However, when it came to desserts, all the rules he set up were scrubbed from his memory. No one suspected that the cardiac surgeon had such a strong sweet tooth. That was until his co-workers saw him at the bakery near the hospital one day, contemplating seriously about which new flavour of cake to get. To everyone’s surprise, he had ended up buying a slice of each one.

Anything sweet had a way of bypassing his self-control, which, naturally, meant you as well.

Taking a moment to himself in his office between appointments, Zayne reached for the cellophane bag of cookies sitting by his computer. The red string around the bag also held a tag with careful handwriting. It read:

Roses are red, jasmines are white, I made these with love, I hope you’ll take a bite.

Beneath the message was a cutely drawn face of you winking. Even though he had read this about 20 times since you dropped it off to him before you went to work, he still breathed a small laugh and shook his head. He unravelled the string, putting the tag safely in his pocket. The cookies inside were shaped like snowflakes and frosted blue and and white. He admired the design for a moment before taking a bite.

Imagining you preparing this made him smile. You had probably woken up earlier than usual to bake them fresh, putting on your apron with a determined look on your face. Each ingredient would be carefully measured, and as much as you would want eat the raw dough, his voice of caution would pop into your head about the dangers of uncooked eggs and flour. Once they were baking, you would finish by making the icing, dying it blue. He could imagine how you’d dip your finger into the bowl, bringing the mixture to your mouth. The blue would be a contrast against your rosy lips as you licked them to savour the taste.

That image of you stayed in Zayne’s head for longer than he intended.

He finished off a second cookie. It had a satisfying texture, the icing sugary and smooth.

Would your lips taste as sweet as this?

The thought came so naturally that he didn’t think anything unusual of its presence. There would probably still be some icing left on your lips, and he would simply lean in to—

Zayne cleared his throat.

The sound broke the silence of his office and banished the trespassing thought.

Only two weeks into this relationship, and he was fantasising like a high school boy at his work. You always had been a permanent fixture in his thoughts, but now it all felt so real. He no longer thought of you as his partner in hypotheticals. Being able to kiss you, and taste the sweetness on your lips wasn’t a dream anymore. Now, the real concern was the appropriate when and where.

He tied the bag closed, saving the rest to bring home. His break was over, and he had to continue on with work. Though he had finished his dessert long ago, the taste of vanilla icing lingered on his tongue for the rest of the day.

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”Earth to Zayne~ can you hear me?”

Zayne turned to you. Your head was titled to the side, an expectant look on your face.

Though it was a weekend morning, both of you were on the sofa completing the remaining piece of your respective work—him finishing his recommendations for a patient, and you filling out a case report for your recent hunter excursion.

“Yes, I can hear you,” he replied, matter-of-factly.

You narrowed your eyes in playful suspicion. “Hm, and what about the past two times I called you?”

Zayne adjusted his glasses. “I must have been focused on my report.”

His reason would have been convincing enough, if not for your keen senses. Despite his unchanging expression, you weren’t mistaken seeing the tips of his ears turn red.

You sorted your documents back into the folder, and placed it to the side.

“You stopped typing on your laptop and sort of stared into your screen for a minute. It was very un-Zayne like I must say,” you remarked as a half-joke.

Seeing just how observant you were towards him filled him with inexplicable pride.

“Is everything okay?” you asked, tone softening.

He paused for a moment, considering his next words. Closing the window to his document and shutting his laptop, he gave his full attention to you.

“Actually, something has been on my mind.”

With a concerned frown, you crossed your legs together, sitting in a more comfortable position to listen to him. Though, you could have never predicted what your boyfriend would say next.

”I was thinking about moving our relationship to the next stage.”

Heat rushed to your cheeks. Stuttered sounds came out of your mouth. When you realised you could form no words, you covered your face with your hands. What could he possibly mean by that!? Suddenly, you felt quite conscious about where you were seated. If Zayne reached out to his left, he could easily wrap his arm around your waist. And, you knew the purple loungewear you had on wasn’t the most alluring clothing you had.

“The next stage?” you repeated in a much higher pitch than you intended.

He nodded, giving no apparent indication that he noticed the fluster you were in. He seemed too calm. Perhaps you were drawing the wrong conclusion too quickly.

“If it’s alright with you, I”—Zayne stopped his sentence short. “Could you… close your eyes for me?”

You blinked at him.

“Ohh,” you sounded with understanding, “is this some kind of surprise? Are you giving me a present?”

He pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “One might call it that.”

Even though his reply to your question was quite ambiguous, you happily closed your eyes. You heard a small sound to the side, guessing that he had placed something on the table. Of course, it was natural for couples to give gifts that signified the seriousness of the relationship. Maybe he bought some jewellery or a precious keepsake, you innocently pondered.

Zayne took a last look at your awaiting face. Eyes closed, lips glossy from the balm you just applied.

The sofa shifted. The weight of his body dipped the cushion beneath you. His close presence made your senses prickle. The jasmine and mint scent of his cologne now enveloped you.

When is he going to let me open my eyes?

“Zayne.”

You breathed out his name before you felt warmth against your lips.

Your eyes shot open.

Zayne had taken off his glasses (which you now realised was what that previous sound had been) and he was kissing you. Kissing you for the very first time.

Your brain and body were at odds with each other.

Your muscles froze, but you also didn’t want to pull away. Not when he initiated something you had spent so long daydreaming about, but never had the courage to do. Noticing this, Zayne raised his hand to your face. His thumb gently caressed your cheek. A silent signal that communicated a message of reassurance. It’s alright, you can relax, you seemed to hear his smooth voice in your head. Tension melted away. In exchange, your heartrate picked up. Closing your eyes once again, you let the sensation wash over you.

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Time seemed to stand still and move too fast all at once.

Zayne slid his hand down to rest at the base of your neck. Your skin felt hot against his cool fingertips.

Admittedly, he was out of practice, and the worry of doing this wrong flashed in his mind. But, when you eased into his touch, lips parting to invite more of him in, everything fell into place.

Vanilla frosting… I was right, he thought.

You were sweeter than any dessert he had tried in his life. One taste would not be enough after this. You had become a dangerous craving to him now.

Zayne withdrew, staying close to your face. Your eyes fluttered open, blinking slowly as if waking from a stupor. You were greeted with his green and amber gaze, his clear satisfaction illuminated by the morning sun pouring through the curtains behind you. Before you was a version of him you had never seen.

“Y-you’re too bold, Zayne,” you murmured.

The breath you had held during the kiss caught up to you. Your exhales lightly brushed against his skin as he stared at your lips—flushed like the colour of raspberry sorbet. He scanned every part of your expression, desperately needing to memorise your face in this moment. Everything about you was utterly perfect.

“I’m sorry for catching you off guard.”

You shook your head, the bangs of his hair brushing against your forehead. Only Zayne could blindside you with such a storybook kiss, and then apologise for it.

“You occupy my thoughts all the time,” he continued, a rasp in his voice as he whispered. “It’s unfathomable and quite distracting.”

You chuckled, the sound melodious to his ears. “I didn’t know a chief surgeon could be so easily distracted.”

Zayne smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling with mirth.

“When the surgeon has someone he likes a lot,” he closed the distance, leaning his forehead against yours, “he often wonders how sweet they would taste.”

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[catboyieejeno]

gameboy :: p.js — two

genre: gamer! jisung x gamer! reader, college au cw: female reader, fwb to lovers, explicit smut, pervy jisung, male masturbation, oral (m and f receiving), unprotected sex, inexperienced jisung, cum play/breeding kink, pet names, slight humiliation kink, size kink, creampie, probably more. not proof read wc: 14.963k

[one] [two]

18+ minors do not interact!

“Is that my cardigan?” 

Forget distraught, forget embarrassed, forget every possible synonym for the word humiliation. Not a single one would do what he’s feeling in this moment even a sliver of justice. Jisung is convinced his soul has left his body, that he’s passed on or that the ground has swallowed him whole. In fact, he’d prefer it that way. He has never felt more panic in his life as you quickly approach the cum-stained cardigan that he took from you, that he pleasured himself with countless times, that he still hasn’t washed…

“You dropped it in class, and I-I meant to give it back to you, you know, a-after I washed it, but then—” 

As you turn the material over in your hands, taking note of and examining the stains, Jisungs breath completely cuts off. You spin slowly on your heel, facing him. There’s an unreadable expression on your face, and it takes every bit of the little pride he has left to not squeeze his eyes shut. 

“Are these—” His voice is no more than a sputtering squeak, “I’m sorry, I’m so, so sorry. Fuck, you must think—” 

“Jisung.” 

“I didn’t mean to keep it for so long, or-or at all, really, it’s just—”

“Jisung.” He’s pretty sure you can hear him gulp. “Were you using my cardigan to get off?” 

“I-” 

“Were you?” You ask sternly. 

He sucks in a breath, unable to look at you any longer as the faintest of yeses leaves his pouty lips. 

There’s a moment of silence. A terribly long, excruciating moment of silence where Jisung can think of no way to make this up to you. He’s beyond ashamed, palms clasped together and sweating, face red with horror, inside of his cheek clamped tightly between his teeth, the whole nine miles. So much for mulling over how he’d reveal who he was to you, and so much for all the overthinking he did, all the times he planned out exactly what to say to you and how. Now, it’s all coming to an end because of this damned cardigan. He should’ve just washed it and given it back to you after the first time—no, he shouldn’t have used it at all. His mind is filled with thoughts of everything and nothing at the same time, and he’s already beginning to mourn the loss of your friendship when you say the unthinkable: 

“Show me.” 

Jisung works his jaw to gather some spit to swallow, since his mouth has managed to run completely dry in record time. His breathing has picked up significantly too, at your words and the way they drip from your lips with silky lust, or venom—he can’t tell which yet, since he’s not entirely sure he heard you correctly in the first place. For all he knows, they may be one in the same, and that would make him quite the textbook masochist; to be so humiliated and simultaneously, so fucking flustered. 

The reddening tint on his face pales suddenly as he realizes that he has yet to respond and the seconds continue to pass. With a shaking voice, he chokes out a single word: “...What?” 

There is no beat, no single pause before you speak. Similarly, there’s no hesitation in your words that spill seamlessly from your smooth lips. “Show me how you get off using my cardigan,” you repeat loudly, clearly. 

There isn’t an ounce of playfulness in your voice, much less in your stature, upright and commanding. Your expression is unreadable as you stand in front of him expectantly, holding out your cardigan with its new (and not so new) decorative additions for him to grab ahold of. 

With a heavy gulp, Jisung lowers his head. “You already got me to admit it. You don’t have to embarrass me any more.” 

“I’m not trying to embarrass you,” You explain, taking a few cautious steps forward until you’re but a foot away from him where he sits on the edge of his bed, “If you’re feeling embarrassed, that’s not because of anything I’ve done.”

He gulps again. 

“I just wanna know what you did as you…” Your index finger finds the underside of his chin, tilting it up so that he’s forced to look at you, “...thought of me.” 

Oh. 

Oh. 

For a brief moment, he can’t construct a response, only gawking at you speechlessly as he attempts to process whether or not you really mean the words that are coming out of your mouth and their twisted implications. Then, his length gives a twitch and he fully wishes the ground would swallow him whole because, how could he have so little shame? 

“Ji…” you start, and his attention is fixed on you once more. The heat in his cheeks returns as you brush your fingers through his hair, pushing all the strands back to allow you a clear view of his face. “It’s kinda pathetic, you know. Having me so close and still using my cardigan…”

His stomach churns, his dick leaks, and his hands grip the bed sheets as you use your index finger to push him back on his chest until he’s resting on his elbows against the mattress. 

“If only you would’ve let me know sooner…maybe I could’ve helped you.” 

“You can help me now,” the words are tumbling from his lips breathlessly, “please.” He isn’t above whimpering any more, or begging. You have him wrapped around your finger, you have for the last few months, and he’s pent up and desperate. There’s nothing he wants more than to have you sink down on his length at this very moment—and he can't believe how plausible that reality actually seems. Still, you have other plans. 

“Tell me what you thought about, baby.” 

He gulps, taking a leisurely glance over your body now that the situation allows, each and every thought his imagination previously concocted coming up to the tip of his tongue where it sits idly, unable to be uttered. He’s so embarrassed, so turned on, so conflicted. 

You give him an encouraging nod, casting your eyes down to his lap where his length strains against the fabric. 

“Can I?” 

Jisung nods eagerly, and you pop off the button of his jeans, sliding down the zipper so slowly that the buzzing is the only sound either of you can hear for a second or two. The next sound that echoes around the small dorm room is a hiss from Jisung’s drooling lips, elicited when your hand brushes his hard on. He can tell your actions are nothing less than methodical when you reach for his hand. You place the black cardigan in his fist, then lay it over his lap. 

Then, you spin around, bringing his desk chair over and taking a seat expectantly. 

When he still doesn’t respond, horny and frozen in shock, you smirk. 

“Need me to walk you through it?” 

Oh, God. He could come undone just from that thought alone.

“Please.” He squeaks out. 

“Take off your pants, Ji.” You instruct, leaning forward to rake your nails along his thighs, “I want you to tease yourself as you tell me what you thought about.”

”Fuck, I—” he glances at your hands that rest just inches away from his length, “I wanted you—I want you so bad.”  

You scoff. “Not very obedient, are you?” 

“Sorry—“ he clears his throat, hoping that of all times, his voice doesn’t betray him now. Following your directions, Jisung hurriedly slides his joggers down so that they’re resting at his knees, before speaking up, “I thought about you, what you looked like. Thought about your body in some pretty little outfit like the one you’re in now.” 

“You thought about me wearing clothes?”

”I thought about you taking each piece off, one by one. Just for me,” he adds. 

Perhaps, it’s a reward for his compliance, or maybe it’s a punishment; regardless, you lean back, sliding the shirt he had lent you off so that you’re sitting before him in nothing but a lacy black piece. 

If he thought your breasts were spilling from your top at the party, it’s nothing compared to the way they sit in your bra, constrained by the lace and begging to be held in his greedy palms.

You hum for him to continue, and he has to remind himself he isn’t dreaming. Subconsciously, his hand has begun to squeeze his cock over his boxers and you don’t miss the way the action makes his lips part.

”I pictured you touching me, like it was your hand instead of mine.” As he mumbles this, he slides his left hand into his underwear and gives himself a generous pump, then another, a shuddering breath making his chest heave.

“Like this?” 

Jisung freezes as you reach in to chase his hand, grabbing a hold of his length for yourself. Instantly, he throws himself back onto the mattress, covering his face with his palms as he moans. 

“Nuh-uh, baby,” you scold him, “You have to look, otherwise you’re defeating the purpose.” 

“Feels so good,” 

“I know,” you coo, letting your thumb swipe along his slit. The prettiest sounds leave his lips in the form of whimpers and whines, and he forces his eyes open to watch how you pull him out from his boxers. 

“Can you tell me what I did next?”

”You—fuck,” Despite his best efforts, his voice cracks, “you used your mouth.” 

“My mouth, huh?” You lean in, pressing a soft kiss to his head. Some more precum leaks, coating your pouty lips, and Jisung thinks he may have actually died and gone to heaven. 

It takes everything in him to keep his head up, especially when you wrap your mouth around him. Your nails dig crescent moons onto his bare thigh and Jisung croaks out a throaty groan as he feels himself poke the back of your throat. There’s a bit of drool gathering at the corner of your mouth, and he brings his thumb forward to swipe it away. With the salty taste of him

on your tongue, you blink at him appreciatively, coming up for air with a gasp. 

His dick is so red and swollen that you can’t help the praise that leaves your lips. “So pretty,” 

“You should see my view.” 

His reciprocation only makes you more eager, and you kiss him again. Teasing him is creating a mess between your legs and the only relief is the way the friction feels when you roll your hips against his desk chair. 

You hum contentedly, tongue poking out to kitten lick his flushed head. He shudders and rolls his head back for the nth time, gripping his sheets. 

“Shit, you’re driving me crazy,” 

You bat your lashes at him, taking him into the warmth of your mouth again. You hollow your cheeks to suck on his head, eyes fixed on his and watching for a reaction—and boy, does he give you one. His jaw goes slack, brows dipping down to hover over his half-lidded, glossed over eyes. As his thighs tremble, he watches you intently, wary of your every move you make and anticipating your next one. The sensation of your wet tongue, and the inside of your cheek, and your tightening throat that swallows around him—it’s almost all too much, and it has him using absolutely all of his self control to keep from bucking up. He wants to enjoy this, to soak this in; he needs to.

But his balls already feel so heavy and tight, and when you moan around him, he feels the vibrations in the form of tingles at the end of his spine. He can barely get a warning out quick enough before he’s releasing a load down your throat.

“Oh, fuck—I’m coming—“ 

You lift your head off of him with a pop, but not without sticking your tongue out to catch the spurts of white cum that dribble and shoot from his spent cock. A string of strained purrs and whimpers fall from Jisung’s ‘o’ shaped lips as he sees this, right before his vision whites out and his nerve ends go numb. His arms fall limply at his sides as the waves of pleasure drag on and through him, till he’s emptied every last drop into your waiting mouth.

You can tell from the way he’s shaking that he’s starting to become sensitive, but your hands don’t stop stroking him, nor do they let up on their pace—not until he takes them into his own and grips them over his abdomen, chest red and heaving. 

His ears are ringing by the time he comes down, the only feeling being your lips that kiss at his thigh and the thumb that swipes along his knuckles. He blinks down at you in awe and mentally professes his love and devotion to you, courtesy of the insane head, though on second thought, he realizes it might just be a side effect of post-nut-stupidity. 

“You’re too fucking good at that.” He lets out breathlessly, wiping some sweat from his chest. 

“Thank you,” you laugh. The moment you retract your hand from his hold to swipe at the cum and drool that sticks to your chin, Jisung shoots up, cheeks reddening again at the mess he’s left on your face. 

“Shit, sorry. Here.” Somewhat awkwardly, he shimmies his joggers back on after tucking himself into his boxers with a wince, then runs to the other side of his room where he gets you a pack of wipes, some tissues, and a fun sized water bottle from his mini fridge. 

“Are you hungry? I’ll make you some instant noodles or—“

“I’m fine, Ji.” 

“Ji? What happened to Sung?”

You ponder for a moment, then give him a little smile as you wipe away the mess of fluids on your face. 

“Ji suits you more.” You decide, “I called you Sung before I knew you, like, really knew you. And now that I do, I think Ji is more fitting.” 

He’s lost count of how many times he’s gone red in your presence, but he can’t help it. Not after the way the night unraveled, and certainly not when your cheek presses into his shoulder. You’re still not wearing a shirt, and the night’s makeup has started melting off around your cheeks and lips, but for whatever reason, you’ve never looked better. He’s glancing down at you warmly, lost in thought as he tries to decide which feature of yours is his favorite. 

It’s a pointless battle, and a decision he gives up on quickly, because there’s no way he’d manage to decide on an answer. Your eyes that looked up at him from between his legs just moments ago are filled with the most extravagant mix of light and mischief, and every time they meet his, he thinks he could float away. Your lips are velvet, he can confirm since he’s felt them now, albeit not on his own. Nonetheless, they’re pillowy and soft and wonderous, and he can’t wait for the moment he gets to taste them. 

As he watches you rub your legs together, he’s confronted by a mix of emotions: Firstly, he feels relief, because this could only mean you were worked up, and more importantly, because of him. Then, he’s instantly grieving the fact that he hadn’t asked to return the favor, and now you were needy and helpless. But no matter, because he clears his throat, mustering up a bit of boldness from the alcohol that still swirls through his system. 

“Let me eat you out.” 

“What?” 

”Let me eat you out, please.” he tries again, and instantly grimaces at the poor attempt at rephrasing. 

This is why you’re bitchless, Jisung.

You don’t seem to mind, though, letting out a light laugh as you straighten up beside him. “You don’t have to,” you whisper shyly, but you barely get the words out before he’s interrupting you. 

“I want to!” He corrects quickly, and you flash him a sweet smile. 

“Not today,” You can practically see the way he deflates, so you quickly explain,“I’m on my period.” 

“Oh.” 

“But that just means you owe me next time, right?” His eyes instantly light up at your proposition, and you can practically see the way his pupils dilate.

Oh. 

“There’s gonna be a next time?” 

You feign offense, “You’re already going back on your offer?” 

“No!” he answers quicker than he means to, clearing his throat, “I mean, no. Definitely not. Like, really. I can’t wait. I mean I can wait, but—”

He can’t even process the moment your lips press against his because just as quickly, they’re no longer there. A peck, and then you’re mumbling “good” against his mouth and going in for seconds as his brain starts buzzing. 

He acknowledges that this gesture was to shut him up, but he doesn’t care. His mind is numbed by your taste and the way your tongue glides against his teeth. If this is how you intended on getting him to be quiet, he’d never stop running his mouth. It doesn’t help that he can taste himself; that thought on its own is almost enough to give him a semi. 

You pull away with a small smack between your lips and instantly, Jisung feels himself melt, leaning into your hand that comes up to caress his cheek and mess with the ends of his hair at the side of his head. 

“I should head out.” You sigh, and he thinks he’s never been so disappointed after hearing just four words. 

“It’s cold out.” He protests, trying not to sound too whiny.

“Am I supposed to stay here?” He knows it’s a rhetorical question, but he still has to bite back the urge to ask you to do just that. “You can just lend me a jacket. I mean, that would make us even, right?” 

When you pick up the end of your cardigan as a notion, Jisung grimaces, but decides that ultimately, if it wasn’t for this cardigan, he might’ve never ended up where he is now: with your hand in his hair and the taste of his cum still lingering on your tongue. 

“You want me to walk you home?”

“Please.” 

And so he does, with his jacket wrapped tightly around you. He drops you off in front of your door, with an endearing wave of his hand and the plan to see you again after class on Monday set in motion. 

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

“This is convenient.” 

“What is?” he perks up, watching as you sit criss-crossed on his bed, a stack of astronomy books piled up on your lap. You don’t look up, but gesture around.

“We can just study at yours,” you say as if it’s obvious, “we don’t have to worry about booking a lab.”

Jisung hums in agreement, gleeful at the idea that you intend to spend more and more time with him, and even more importantly, in his room.

Here, where he can only remember the way your mouth felt around him, and the countless times he’s pleasured himself to the thought of you. Here where you lay, on his bed, in a skirt that’s definitely too short for the harsh winter season, which could only mean you wore it for him. Here, where if he leans back, he can catch a glimpse of the cotton, light blue panties you’re wearing under the hem of polyester. 

After he returned from walking you home, Jisung collapsed into his bed, overjoyed and buzzing with energy, and so grateful there was no class the next day—Since he was not sure he’d be able to work himself out of bed with his mind still in a haze. By the time he managed to stop kicking his feet and replaying the night in his mind, the clock had striked six and the sun was beginning to peek over the hilltops. 

He can’t stop thinking about what the two of you had agreed on doing the next time you hung out, especially not when your pretty legs are bare and exposed. 

It’s a shame they’re not wrapped around his head. 

Nonetheless, he remains hesitant to make a move because: what if you had forgotten? Or perhaps, it was the alcohol talking that night and you really didn’t intend to do anything else with him—a totally plausible reality, as much as he hates to admit it.

Although he had gotten the go-ahead with you, and his dick is already growing at the thought of how your cunt would taste, his crippling fear of rejection still managed to choke him. A single, suggestive brush of his hand against you could make you uncomfortable, since the line between sexual and friendly intentions is so blurred, and that terrifies him. 

Very quickly, however, he realizes that’s not the case. 

“What do the books say about Castor and Pollux?”

“Well,” you start, “for starters, it’s more detailed than all the stuff we’ve found online.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah. Like, for example,” your leg unfolds from its position tucked away under you, and stretches out to rub along Jisung’s thigh. That’s how it starts. 

“In the book it goes into a lot more detail about the battle which inevitably leads to Castor’s death.” 

He can barely register what you’re saying, because with each word, your foot, adorned by your tantalizing knee-high socks, is rubbing shamelessly over his bulge. You watch out of the corner of your eye as his jaw goes slack, his gaze tracking every move you make over his lap. In fact, the only time he glances up at all, is when you lay back against his pillows and prop your legs apart, granting him a clear view of your panties that now showcase a wet mark. 

Jisung sucks in a breath, “Y/n, I think we should take a break��“ 

“Did you know that Pollux gave up half of his immortality so that Castor could live?” 

To put it bluntly, Jisung really couldn’t fucking care less.  

“Mhm?” He hums, except it’s practically a moan, because now your legs are fully spread, and your leg is restless, rubbing against him with no remorse. He’s fully hard, so hard that it’s beginning to hurt, but he feels stuck in place. 

“Fuck, we need to stop, I can’t focus if—“ 

“We should add some of this stuff to the presentation.” 

You’re playing some kind of game, and he’s happy to take the bait. Your eyes that hover over the top of the book flicker up to his for a split second, glossed over and sultry, revealing just how needy you actually are. 

And so, he breaks. 

Your leg is flung off his lap as he leans forward, settling his shoulders between your knees and attaching his lips to the plush of your thigh. Wet kisses make a path toward your core before he turns to give some attention to your other leg. It’s indescribable, how soft your skin is under his puckering mouth and how riveting the view of you is from this angle. 

You’ve moved the book a bit to the side, giving him full visibility so he can watch the way your eyes roll back for a split second when his big hands push your skirt out of the way, the material bunching up at the small of your waist.

Despite the fact that you’re clutching the pages of the book so tightly that your hands are turning white, you maintain your composure. “When Castor was revived, Zeus turned them into the constellation. Then–“ 

He tunes you out, squeezing your skin like a stress ball as a newfound determination manifests. You’re only acting unphased—the growing wet patch on your covered folds giving you away—and he’s dead set on breaking your facade. 

As bad as he wants to taste you, he won’t; not yet. Not until you’re writhing and shaking and desperate to be touched. 

He keeps working his kisses up to your center, then pulling away, alternating between using his teeth to nibble and tug at the more giving parts of your skin, and licking at the firm areas, like your hip bones and below your navel. 

Him nuzzling his nose into you tickles, especially since you can feel his breaths as they grow more uneven. Your view isn’t so bad either; you can make out the way his hips rut into the mattress and his hair flops as he moves to kiss across your skin. You only dare to steal a glance when you know he’s not looking; otherwise, you’re reading off the page in the steadiest voice you can muster, though your patience is slowly withering. 

When he finally gives any attention to your core, it’s over the panties, nose digging into your clit and breathing you in. His next breath is full of you, and all he can feel is your thighs as they slightly tighten around his head. 

The slight friction is ruinous, and it almost manages to make you stammer over your words, but Jisung interrupts you with a groan and misses the way you stifle a whine.

“Put that book down so I can make you come on my face, baby.” 

“Y-you’re distracting me. We’re supposed to be studying–“ you argue, but the book is already hanging loose in your hands, moments away from being discarded to meet the rest of the pile. Jisung catches this, and he doesn’t entertain your resistance any longer. You’re about to snap, he can feel it—he can practically taste it. 

And so, his tongue pokes out to lick a long stripe from your entrance, up to your clit. His pace is menacingly slow, he still hasn’t moved your panties aside, but somehow, the action rips a moan from your throat and causes your hips to buck.

Humming in satisfaction, he does it again, and the small whimper you let out the second time around almost makes him bust in his pants. 

“Ji..” 

With his arms hooked under your thighs and his palms situated over your abdomen, he hums in acknowledgement of his nickname and presses his face further into you. Your heels dig into his shoulders to tug him closer, but he tuts, flickering his narrowed eyes up to you. 

“Is something wrong?” His tone is teasing and cheeky, and you take your lip between your teeth. 

“No–I just,” you huff out, reddening cheeks filling with air, “please–“ 

“Please?” The single syllable is dragged out, encouraging you to elaborate, but all you can manage is another helpless moan.

“Just tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you, angel.”

“I–please, I need your mouth or–or your fingers. whichever,” you pant, “fuck, Jisung, I don’t care–just touch me—“

You don’t have time to finish your babbled plea before he hooks a finger on the material of your panties and pushes them aside. His tongue darts out to lick your clit, and he instantly, both you and Jisung moan in fervor. When he dips the muscle into your entrance, your essence coats his taste buds, and he decides then and there that he’s never tasted anything better. 

He’s also never seen anything better than the sight of you arching your back and digging your hips down to push your aching folds closer to his mouth. And it works, because he gets a mouthful of you and he begins to suck on your bud contentedly. 

Forget reading about the constellations, you were practically seeing them. 

They swirled over your eyelids when you closed them and swam around the room when you managed to peek them open for a glimpse of the boy laying between your legs. Any time his eyes flicker up to yours, the pleasure peaks, and you have to clasp a hand over your mouth to contain yourself. 

He hopes you can’t tell that he’s never done this before; by the looks of it, you have no idea. Your moans are growing louder by the second, with every swipe of his tongue against your slit, and your fingers have long forgotten the book you were clutching earlier. Now, they tug on Jisung’s hair, scratching at his scalp affectionately and pulling on the locks at the root anytime he does anything a tad too well. 

He laps you up again and again, replicating everything he had ever seen work in porn videos, until your toes are curling and you seem to be running out of air. Broken cries fall from your parted lips, with an occasional call of his name that has him rutting into the bed at a pace that almost provides as much friction as he desperately needs. 

“So pretty like this,” he manages to sputter into your core, and you instantly shiver, pressing him closer to you with your heels—if that’s even possible. 

You breathe out a series of phrases, all incomplete and taking after a whine more than anything else: “I’m gonna–“ and “Feels good–“ and “Keep going–“. 

No part of your brain is composed enough to form an actual sentence while Jisung’s tongue buries itself into your hole, but he seems to get the memo. He devours you like he’s famished, and when his hands reach up to grab ahold of your breasts, your efforts to contain your moans become obsolete. 

Your orgasm crashes into you as he returns his attention to your clit. His fingers busy themselves pinching one of your nipples and his deep hums vibrate at your core, and you find your vision going dark until there’s no choice left but to squeeze your eyes tight and reconcile with the ecstasy that has no means of stopping. For a second, your legs begin to shake, but as the feeling of coming from his swirling tongue becomes overwhelming, they fall limp, held up only by Jisung’s shoulders. 

And he doesn’t stop, until he’s completely sure that you’ve taken everything and have started to come down. His face is flushed red from the effort and a bit of sweat shines like gloss on his forehead, when you’re finally able to open your eyes and take him in. 

Secretly, he’s both surprised and proud of himself that he’s managed to make you come—for some reason, he wasn’t as nervous as he thought he might be under this pressure—mostly put on him by him. If he couldn’t manage to give you an orgasm, he’s not sure how he would have faced you again. 

“Holy shit.” Your voice is thinned out and dreamy, and you don’t hesitate to grab the collar of his shirt and pull him up to you for a kiss. He moans into your mouth, slick covered lips disappearing between yours as you make out with him.  

“Damn,” You mumble as you break apart, “You eat out all your friends like that?” 

His eyes that were shut dreamily flutter open at once, and his brows pinch in slight confusion that he refuses to address for the moment.

 Technically, you aren’t wrong. 

Technically, the two of you are friends. 

But that title is the very last one he expected to and wanted to hear right about now. 

He can’t spare it another thought, because just quickly as the words leave your mouth, he’s lost again in your kiss. The feeling of your soft lips is so invigorating that it makes him salivate, and as he situates himself properly between your thighs. A few brushes of your wet cunt against his bulge and he’s releasing into his boxers with a groan, emptying himself as you continue to taste his spit and your release on his tongue, hips grinding down to stimulate him further. 

He comes hard, considering the compromising position he’s in, but just the idea of his member being so close to your pussy, especially after he’s tasted it, is enough to tip the scale. 

“Mmph..” 

“Feel good?” 

“So good,” he nods, rutting until every last drop has been expelled and his tip is too sensitive to touch. Then, he collapses into your arms that wrap around him, palms smoothing through his hair and down his spine. 

“Gimme a kiss,” You plead softly, and he looks up at you, peeking through the strands of hair that cover his eyes until your fingers move them away. He happily puckers his lips to place a gentle peck on yours. He’s almost smiling into it, until then and there, in the back of his mind, he thinks back to your choice of words. Do friends kiss like this? He supposes they do, in a talking stage of sorts. When the lines between friendship and more have been blurred, as they have here, and some sort of romance is blossoming, friends can kiss.

Typically, though, that blur is discussed and some boundary is set. Considering his dick has been in your mouth and he just gave you head until you and him both came from the effort, he figures some of those rules don’t necessarily apply here. 

He decides he’d rather not overthink. It got him nowhere when he wanted to come up to you before, and now that he has you, he’s sure it won’t help him here, either. 

So instead, he melts into your touch and relishes you until the moment you pull away and remind him of the half-written notes on his laptop that lie discarded since long ago. This gets him to regain focus for the rest of the night, and the two of you manage to get a decent amount of work done without ripping off each other’s clothes. He’s only slightly regretful of that, but the soft look of content on your face is enough. 

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

The project had gone off without a hitch. It seemed that the trick to being productive when it came to you two, was releasing some pent up sexual tension; then, your buzzing neurons would reward your efforts and get to work—like the time you met up at the library, just three days later. 

Barely fifteen minutes of little-to-no productivity had passed before you found yourself bored and pressing your thighs together to give your slick-covered pussy any bit of relief. And Jisung, hyper aware of you as always, noticed. It took one lustful glance from him and you were crawling onto his lap, leaning into his side, and nibbling softly on the lobe of his ear until his dick was so hard it almost hurt. His hands flew to your hips, pinning you down until your cunt was rubbing against him. He had barely half a mind to keep you quiet, because the computer labs had no lock on the doors. With his hand clasped over your mouth, you rolled yourself against him until both of you came in your clothes, eyes rolling back and chests heaving with exasperation. That day, you wrote over three thousand words on the constellation—talk about post-nut-clarity. 

The powerpoint that came hand in hand with the essay was an idea that came to be at your apartment. He found out Karina was your roommate during his visit, and she had invited Heesung over so they could work on their assignment, too. It wasn’t long before Jisung noticed your dissipating patience, and the overwhelming relief on your face when the two of them announced they would go grab coffee as a pick me up. You pulled him into a kiss almost instantly, discarding your notes and forgetting about the due date that was closing in. 

All that mattered in that moment was being close enough to Jisung to breathe him in, and who was he to complain? He wanted nothing more than that sweet bliss—sharing your air, tasting your spit, squeezing your skin, making you come.

He was only denied the last of the four today, because as his tongue sunk into your hole and lapped you up, the door clicked and both of you rushed to straighten out your appearances. Karina and Heesung didn’t seem to suspect anything, only mildly reminded the two of you were in the room after finishing their own sweet interaction. 

Karina gasped when the coffee she sipped burned her lip, and Heesung popped off the plastic cap of the cup, blowing the steam away at once and scolding her for not being careful. The scolding was more endearing than anything, and Jisung found himself being jealous at the way Karina’s pupils practically became hearts, gawking at Heesung as he cooled down her drink before returning it and giving her a kiss on the forehead. It became clear as he watched them that you had never really looked at him that way, though he tried not to think too hard about it or the stinging in his heart would get worse. 

That’s when he suggests the powerpoint, which both of you finished that very same night. As a reward for his ingenious contributions, you dragged him out into the hallway to “say goodbye” later that evening and palmed him until he ruined his third pair of underpants this week. 

Professor Hwang seemed to be more than pleased with your finished product, because when she spontaneously announced the scores for the project would be curved, the two of you got the highest marks in the class—and this called for celebration. 

You had to attend your Literature class, but promised to come by his place later, which left Jisung just enough time to do the absolute bare minimum: clean his room, take a shower, make a playlist. 

After his shower, the boy spent the better part of an hour obsessing over which cologne to put on, or if any of the three he owned were even pleasant enough for you, at which point, Mark knocked on his door with complaints about how the bathroom on his side of the hall got flooded. 

“What do you want me to do about that?”

“You’re an RA, no?”

“Yeah, but like, RA’s don’t fix toilets, you know?” Jisung shrugs.

“Dude–then, at least let me use your bathroom—”

“Yeah, go ahead. I’ll call—“ 

“Hey!” 

Your sweet voice calls out from the end of the hall, making both Jisung’s and Mark’s heads turn your way. You look ravishing today, a huge grin plastered on your face and the newest book you’d be analyzing in your Lit class clutched in your arm. Your hands hold two coffee cups, and you stride down the hall to meet the two boys where they stand.

Quickly, you place a kiss on Jisung’s cheek, direct and short but very bright “hello!” at Mark, then step inside his room with a decisive and upbeat pep on your step. Jisung knows why, of course, but as he turns back to Mark’s dumbfounded, and quite shocked expression, the smile on his lips instantly falls. 

“Was that–“ 

In less than a second, Jisung closes the door to his room and grabs the boy beside him, dragging him down the hall and out of earshot from you as he turns back to glance suspiciously at the wall you stand behind.

Jisung gulps, holding him still, “Mark–“ he knows what’s coming, but even then, he can’t mask the dread on his face.

“It was, wasn’t it? Jaehyun’s ex?” Mark’s eyes are so large, they look like they might roll out of his head.

“Yes, but–“

“Are you crazy?”

“Keep your voice down!” Jisung scolds, but Mark just lands a hit on his shoulder, disbelief written over his features. 

“What the hell are you doing with Jaehyun’s ex? You realize he’ll kill you if he finds out, right?”

With a nervous reluctance to his tone, Jisung begrudgingly sighs out, “We’re just friends.”

“Yeah, cause you and I kiss all the time when we say hello.”

“Okay, we’re a little bit more than friends, but–why does it matter?”

“It matters because you don’t mess with your friend’s ex, dude..” At this, Jisung’s lips press tightly together.  He can’t think of anything to say or argue in an attempt to defend himself, so Mark continues, “If it was Chaewon? Man, I don’t think I could even look at you again.” 

“He won’t find out.”

“Dude, not the point!”

“I know, I know. I’m just–“ I’m in love with her “–nevermind. you don’t get it.” 

“No, I don’t.” He echoes, “Figure it out before Jaehyun puts the pieces together.”

“You don’t think there’s even a slight chance he’ll understand?”

“If i’m being honest with you man…” He pauses, and the hope in Jisung’s eyes dwindles as Mark casts his own eyes away and sighs. “No. I don’t.”

Mark gives him one last look before striding past him and to the bathroom. 

Meanwhile, Jisung drags his feet back to his room, only slightly mulling over Mark’s words and the likelihood of their truth—but the guilt dissipates the moment his hand twists the doorknob and his eyes land on you. You’re sitting on his bed, evidently anticipating his return because you aren’t on your phone, or with your nose in your book. 

You’re sitting up, hair tucked behind your ear, eyes wide and looking his way as he closes the door behind him and moves closer. 

Perhaps, it’s the overwhelming lust or like or even love that he feels every time he looks at you—or maybe it’s a bit of his frustration from the devastating inconvenience of your affiliation with Jaehyun, he’s not sure—but he finds himself taking long strides to close the space between you and him. 

“I got you coffee–“

You don’t manage to finish your sentence before his lips are on yours, swallowing down the surprised whimper you let out before reciprocating his affection. In less than a second, he’s crawled onto the bed with you, hands holding you wherever they can. 

Your thighs grow sticky almost instantly as he draws moan after moan from you, rushing to peel off every last article of clothing that obstructs him from feeling your warm skin. It’s not long before you become as ravenous as him, only breaking your kiss to pull your shirts over your heads or readjust so he can crawl between your legs as you lay back. 

When he finally has expended every last bit of oxygen in his lungs, he moves back to take you in, finding that, for the first time, you’re fully naked before him—and god, are you a sight for sore eyes. 

He can see your chest heaving, the action slightly bouncing your curved breasts that sit prettily, spread from laying on your back. Your nipples are eager and perked up, inviting his tongue to run over them, which he takes a mental note to do in just a second. Your smooth stomach, tightened in anticipation, leads down to your messy wet folds, and your thighs, soft under his big hands, tremble as you grow shy and unsure under his gaze. 

“Ji? W-what’s wrong?”

“Literally, and I mean this with every fiber in my being, baby—nothing is wrong. You are so,” he leans down to kiss you softly, completely unlike the kisses you shared earlier, “so,” he travels down your chest, “so beautiful.” 

“You think so?”

“Yes, baby. God,” he huffs, “I need you so fucking bad.”

“So have me then.”

His movements stutter for a moment, and he snaps his head up to look at you. “You mean?”

“Yes.” You nod, “Please.”

When your fingertips dip into his boxers, he nuzzles his face into your neck and sighs out dreamily, allowing you to pull his fully hardened length out. 

“I want you so bad, Ji… Need to feel you inside of me.”

Your words send shivers down his spine so intense that he practically shudders, and he knows for a fact you can feel his dick twitching incessantly your palm.

Jisung clears his throat, leaving back to look into your eyes. 

“Let me eat you out first, yeah?” 

“It’s fine, I just-“ 

“Please,” he basically whimpers, “I love tasting you so much,”

“Fuck.” 

Your legs spread expectantly for him, but he takes his time, stopping at your lips again as if he can never feel them enough. Then, he makes his way down, licking and nibbling, pausing to lap at your nipples as he so desperately wanted to do earlier. 

“Jisung, holy shit–“ 

“So pretty, so good for me always.” 

“Baby–“ you gasp out as his lips come off your tit with a pop, and in an effort to quiet yourself down a bit, you take his index and middle finger into your mouth, swirling your tongue around them and muffling your cries of pleasure. At this, he has to peel your moving hand off his cock at the risk of coming into it. 

He can feel how the layer of sweat coating bus skin, and he can feel the way it’s sticking to yours, slick and wet. 

“Your pussy is so perfect,” he purrs, lodging his shoulders under your thighs and settling down between your legs where he belongs. 

He dives right in, molding his mouth over you in a way that has you arching your back and squeezing your eyes shut. He can feel your cunt pulsing under his tongue, all wet and gushing with your arousal. It’s dizzying, your taste, your smell, you, all of it has his mind spinning and him melting further into you. 

You can hear the sounds of him devouring you, as well as the noises he’s muttering into you, indiscernible strings of praises that have you on the brink of undoing. 

The moment his tongue slips in you, you pull his fingers from your mouth, reaching your own towards his hair. “How are you so good at that? Please, Ji, I’m so close–“ 

“Please,,” he echoes desperately, “come for me.” 

That, and his finger slipping into you has you grinding down onto his tongue and hands, dissolving into your orgasm that he so willingly paints out for you, using every little tactic he’s noticed you like so far, like curving his finger to hit your sweet spot, or sucking on your clit until you’ve got tears prickling at your eyes. 

You come on his face, writing and shaking and gripping his locks for dear life as bliss bubbles through your nerves. You’re soaked and breathless by the time he lets up. 

“So good,” he reminds you, making his way back up to your lips so you can find out for yourself just how intoxicating you are. 

Your hands reach for his hips and tug him closer, and the two of you yelp into the kiss as his length brushes your still sensitive folds. Jisung can no longer think straight, especially with the way your glossy eyes blink up at him sweetly. The realization of what’s to come dawns on him at once. He doesn’t intend to tell you you’re his first, because that’s pathetic and embarrassing, but nonetheless, he can’t hide the nerves. 

“Are you sure you still want to… you know? We don’t have to if you’re not comfortable. We can do something else, yeah? I’ll just take care of myself really quick in the bathroom and we’ll–“ 

“Ji, baby.” he gawks at you. You smile and brush a few hairs back from his eyes, not even minding when your hand brushes against his slightly sweaty hairline. “Who’s the talkative one now?” His cheeks glow at your attempt to lighten the mood, and you kiss them generously.

“I’m so sure I want this,” you start, “I’ve never wanted anyone this much.” 

And that makes his heart beat so fast and swell up so much inside his chest, he thinks it may just burst from within his ribs and land right in your hands where it belongs. 

His head bobs in a soft nod, and he swallows down the spit in his drying mouth. Between your bodies, one of his hands spreads your legs a bit while the other guides him towards your slick. He rubs his head between you, lathering his dick up in your cum, eyes never leaving yours in fear of missing the way your jaw goes slack at the sensation.

“Okay,” he nods again, “Then I’m all yours.”

“Good.” You whisper back.

“Let me know if you need me to stop, yeah?”

Unlike some of his friends, Jisung has never been addicted to porn—addicted to masturbating? Maybe, but that was partly due to his addiction to you. For the first time ever, he realizes how useful a porn addiction might have been right about now, even if it did build unrealistic expectations. Simply because then, he’d know what to do in this situation. The expectation part doesn’t concern him, you’ve already surpassed all of his anyway; the only thing eating him up is whether or not he’ll be able to please you. 

For his own sake, he gulps down his nerves and focuses on the pretty girl lying before him, with watering eyes and drooling lips who’s shaking in anticipation each time his head teases her entrance. He’s twitching in his own hand, clumsily bumping into your clit, but you seem to like that, reaching for and squeezing his arms with every accidental brushing.

And finally, when he sinks into your sopping walls, it’s like a breath of fresh air. 

Your hands slither around his shoulders, willing him closer until the two of you are chest to chest, and his hips push in far enough to bottom out within you. 

“Oh, my god..” The words leave you in a whisper, cock stuffing you full and balls pressing against your ass. The stretch is notable, though not painful, and given that you already came once today, you can’t help the way you clench down on him, making him hiss. 

“You okay?”

“Yes.” you nod, leaning up for a kiss.

Slowly, he starts rocking his hips, reminding himself to slide almost all the way out of you before thrusting back in. That’s what he’s supposed to do, or so he thinks. Your moans start as little hiccups, soft and airy, but as his rhythm continues, they get louder and whinier, and so he matches their pace and enthusiasm, speeding up in tandem. 

After leaving a wet kiss on your neck, Jisung sits up and looks down at where the two of you meet, pushing your knees up until they’re together on your chest. Every time he glances up at you through his brows, you squeeze him instinctively, and the new position just amplifies the pleasure for both of you.

Each graze of his fingers on your face or boob or arm, the weight of his hands keeping your thighs still, it’s all so satisfying that you feel your inevitable orgasm well on its way. It only takes a few more seconds of him fucking your soft, warm walls, before his fingers find your clit and start rubbing it. Instantly, your head is thrown back and you’re calling out for him in pleasure. 

As you come again, Jisung has a moment to take you in. 

You’ve infiltrated all of his senses: he can see you, hazed and fucked out and staring back at him with an infatuated look—the same one he saw on Karina’s face when she looked at Heeseung, and the very one he’s been longing to see on you. He can smell sex in the air—taste you still on his tongue from when it was in you just moments ago. He can hear your loud moans and pleas, every syllable of his name as it slips from your lips. And finally, finally he can feel you, stretching out around him and sucking him in deeper still with every thrust. You’re gushing so much that your thighs and his are covered, and his sheets have grown darker in the spot below where you’re connected. 

“Ji, please–“ 

“Please what, baby? Just tell me and it’s yours.”

“Fuck, don’t stop. Don’t stop, please.” 

He wouldn’t dream of it. 

Each drag of his cock through you solicits a new wave of pleasure, and you’re coming so hard that you’ve gotta grip his arms to keep from floating. Your nails dig into his skin and Jisung moans, pounding into you faster and keeping his fingers at work until he’s sure you’ve begun to come down. Only then does he slow with you, leaning down to capture your lips in a kiss. 

“Good?”

Through tear-brimmed eyes, you blink up at him, feeling drunk. “ So good.” 

He hums into your mouth when your tongue finds his, fingertips losing themselves in your hair. 

“Mm, lay down,” you start, slurring, though he catches every syllable you utter with ease, “I wanna ride you.”

His eyes snap open to find you giggling at his reaction, and he doesn’t realize his mouth is hanging wide until your gentle palm reaches up to hold his chin and close it. 

“Is that something you’d like?” your thumb tugs on his bottom lip, and he presses a kiss to it before answering quickly.

“God, yes.” 

You laugh again, giving him a kiss for his endearing reaction. When he doesn’t budge, still slightly in shock, you prop yourself up on your elbows, pushing him back and guiding him to lay down where you were just a second ago.

The moment your plush thighs settle on either side of his, his hands go limp by his sides. It takes your patient ones to grab ahold of them and place them on your body, one by your waist, the other holding your boob. You keep your hand over his and squeeze, encouraging him to the same, and he does, letting his fingers swipe over and play with your pretty buds. 

“You just dicked me down and suddenly, you’re nervous?” You hum, swirling your hips over his length. 

“I don’t think I’ll ever stop being nervous around you.” 

“Baby…” You coo, wiping some of the sweat from his cheeks, “You think I don’t get nervous around you? Every time I know I’m gonna see you… You should see how long it takes me to pick what to wear.” 

“I mean, you look perfectly fine like this, too.” 

“I’m sure you think so.” 

Jisung starts to laugh, but it turns into a hiss as you sink yourself down on him. The feeling, he realizes rather quickly, is absolutely incomparable to anything he’s even felt or anything he might ever feel. He’s balls deep, completely hugged by your gummy, wet walls. Your skin pressing against his and your weight on his lap feels so, so right. 

“You feel amazing,” he whispers, and you ready yourself to move but he stills you, “God, hold on. Please, just—“ 

“What? What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing—It’s just,” he pauses, looking anywhere but at your eyes. “I-If you move right now, I might...” 

“Oh.” The skin on your cheeks goes hot. Part of you wants to teasingly roll your hips anyway, but the furrow in his brow tells you he’s not bluffing and he really will blow his load if you so much as clench. So, you give him a few seconds, leaning down to kiss his chest until he bucks up into you as a go-ahead to start moving. 

“So good,” he repeats, and you moan back a similar phrase. Each time you take the entirety of his length, his tip kisses the smooth spot inside you and you can’t help but mewl into his neck, giving him back every babbled praise he manages to spew to you though his tightened voice. You start bouncing yourself on him, with your hands resting on his chest for balance, until you feel the pit in your stomach begin to turmoil again. 

”I’m really close,” he warns you. 

“Me too..” 

“Shit, I have to pull out or I’m gonna-“ 

“It’s okay. I’m on the pill.” You whisper, and his eyes widen, “I want you to come for me.” 

He can barely mold his mouth to form the beginning of an “Are you sure?” before your walls squeeze him and he’s spilling himself inside of you. He lets out a guttural groan as he does so, clutching your hands in his as you milk him for all that he’s worth. The sounds you’re making are absolutely delectable and the grip your pussy as on him makes his ears start ringing so bad, he’s convinced he might pass out. 

“Ji, I’m-“ his release triggers your third one of the night, just as you lose yourself in his arms and in the whimpers he’s releasing as he grows more sensitive. You can see his eyes through a sliver, finding them to be dazed and adoring and admiring all that is you.

So you grind against him until you’re both left sweaty and spent, holding on to each other until the pounding in your chests simmers down. 

You naturally collapse on top of him, face near his neck with his hand petting the back of your head. For a few minutes, the two of you stay like this: breathing in each other’s scent and basking in the aftermath of what happened. Both of you are sticky with sweat and cum and spit, but neither seem to mind for the time being. 

It’s only when your ringtone blasts through the room that either of you move to get up. With a heavy sigh, you pull yourself off of him and waddle over to your bag to find the disturbance. 

“It’s Karina.” You announce, and Jisung lays back down with his arm tucked behind his head, admiring your naked body pacing around his room before you swipe to answer and tuck your phone between your cheek and your shoulder, reaching for his shirt to slip it on. 

“Hey… Tonight? Oh, you mean like right now? Uh… Yeah, it should be fine.” You glance over at him to find him raising a brow, “Oh… Oh. Okay, I see. Yeah, no worries. Tell me about it after, yeah? Alright! Bye!” Your shorts are tugged on as you spin around to face him. 

“Um…” You start, and Jisung sits up instantly. 

“What’s wrong?” 

“Nothing, it’s just…” The corner of the mattress dips as you take a seat, “Heesung is over.” 

“Oh.” 

“And he and Karina are gonna…” 

“Oh.” 

“Yeah.” 

He remembers the layout of your room, two beds in one open space. It’s a standard room, like Mark and Chenle’s or Jeno and Jaemin’s. The only reason he scored a solo dorm is because he’s an RA for the floor, a blessing at times like this, where he can confidently say: 

“You can stay the night here.” When you don’t answer, he clears his throat. “You know, since they’re gonna…” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, of course,” his hand reaches for yours, pulling you towards him. “We can watch a movie, or study…” 

“Or…” you tease, “we can do something else…” The moment you climb on his lap, it clicks for him—what you mean. And when your lips find themselves on his neck, a shudder goes down his spine. 

“Thank you, though.” You smile and he looks down at you and quirks a brow. 

“For what?” 

“For letting me stay over. You’re such a good friend.” 

It’s instant—his stomach dropping before the last syllable leaves your mouth. His hands are on your shoulders to push you away and his stomach is tied into a dozen knots as he blinks, repeating what you’ve just said over and over in his mind. For a moment, he thinks his lunch is starting to come back up, too, and he’s sure he’s gone drastically pale. 

You’re absolutely oblivious and confused as you meet his eyes. “What–” 

“You don’t mean that.” He insists.

“Ji–” 

“You can’t mean that. Right?” When you tilt your head, still lost, he purses his lips, and this time, his question comes out with much less assurance. “Right?” 

The disorganized sheets are shoved off of him in an instant, and he’s up and tugging his sweats back on, spinning around as to not look at you for a second. His heart, which he holds his hand over, starts beating faster. 

“Y/N. Please tell me you’re joking.” 

“I–You are a good friend. I do mean that. But–why– I’m so lost, Ji. What’s wrong? Was it something I said?”

‘Was it something I said?’

He hates this. He hates everything about this. The look on your face, the nerves in your voice, the way your hand is shakily reaching for him—there’s nothing he wants more than to forget how that word feels each and every time you utter it. He wishes he could brush it off, and crawl back under the sheets with you and mess around until the sun rises the next day. 

But it stings, and it burns, and it fucking aches that you insist he’s nothing more than a friend, reminding him for the second time now that he can’t have you as his—and that’s the only way he intends to have you, for the sake of his poor heart that beats only for you. 

He didn’t hallucinate. You looked at him the same way Karina looked at Heeseung that night; he saw it, there was something there. 

He thinks back to what Mark said earlier. Friends don’t kiss—and they certainly don’t fuck the way you two just did. If he could just get you to admit that…

“Do you do that with all your “friends?”” 

“No, of course not!” You shake your head quickly, and he can see the offense flash across your features at his implication. Still, he insists.

“Then what are we?” 

He sees you physically deflate, but he retains his composure. “Ji…” 

“You’re telling me that after all that, and after everything we’ve done this semester–”

“Jisung–“ 

“–and after all the time we’ve known each other.. You don’t see me as anything more than a friend?”

“I…” That’s it. That’s the only word you manage to mutter, because your thoughts are tangled together and working against you to, for the first time since he’s known you, render you speechless. “I don’t know what to say.”

A pricking sensation in his eyes commands him to turn around, because simply put: he refuses to cry in front of you. 

“I like you. A lot, in case it wasn’t painfully obvious.”

“I-I like you, too but—“ 

“But you still like Jaehyun?” Truthfully speaking, he doesn’t even know where that came from. But the words have already left him, and even though he can’t see your face, the fact that you’re hesitating tells him all he needs to know.

“It’s not like that,” you start after a pause, “It’s just—how do you even know about that?” 

“It doesn’t matter. I-“ He takes a shaky breath, “Fuck.”

“Jisung…” You mumble cautiously, quietly, too nervous to approach him any more. 

“I like you,” he repeats, “so, so bad.”

“I do, too.” You whisper. It’s no use, and you discover that quickly—the moment you see him tear his doubtful eyes away from you and towards the ground.

“Stay the night here. I’ll be down the hall.” 

He grabs a random shirt from his drawer, since you’re occupying his, and puts it on as he makes his way towards the door.

“If you need anything,” he adds quietly, “just message me.” 

He steps into the hall and shuts the door behind him as you call out his name, storming down the ugly carpet that looks uglier than usual today, until he’s reached Mark and Chenle’s.

He hesitates before knocking as he realizes the tears he’s been fighting to hold back really will start rolling any second. So he passes their door angrily and barges into the bathroom.

He’s careful not to step on the filthy water that covers most of the floor, verifying Mark’s claim that the bathroom had indeed flooded, and navigating the dry patches with his slides to get to the sink. He turns on the faucet and washes his hands, then cups them and brings a decent amount of water to splash some on his face. It washes away the stray tears that managed to escape, and he repeats the process over until his eyes are no longer bloodshot, but not without a few broken sobs escaping his parted lips. 

Whether it’s hurt, frustration, or both, he doesn’t know, but before he knows it, he’s fully crying over you, until his throat is dry along with his eyes. 

After a lazy once over in the mirror, no longer regarding his looks, he treads carefully back to the exit and toward his friends’ room. 

He can hear them through the wall as he gets closer, tapping his knuckles on the wood. They sound like they’re watching the play-offs. He’s not sure, but anyway, he’s never cared about basketball, and he can’t bring himself to care about much now. 

It takes him knocking one more time before one of them hears him, and the door opens. 

“Oh, it’s you. Hey did you call about the toilet—“ 

“You look like shit.” Chenle interjects. Jisung just rolls his eyes and walks past them. 

“Can I stay the night?” 

The two boys look at each other, then back at him. 

“Uh… Not that I don’t wanna have a slumber party but… Why?” 

“Y/N is staying in my room.” 

At the same time, both of their eyes bulge. 

“Oh.” Mark says, but Chenle quickly shakes his head. 

“You have a girl in your room? Like a real one? No way.” At this, no one cracks a smile, “Why do I know that name, though… Y/N… Y/N…” 

”I thought it was going well, though,” Mark inquires, “How did you get kicked out of your own room?”

”Y/N…. Y/N who…” 

“We fucked and I asked her what we were.” Jisung regretfully admits. He had no time to mull over how much detail he wanted to share, but confiding in his older friends sounded more helpful than not. 

At this, Mark doesn’t reply, but the way he purses his lips is more than enough for Jisung to let his head swing down and he catches it in his hands.

”Y/N… Wait.” Having reached an epiphany, Chenle shoots up from the couch, “Y/N as in Jaehyun and Y/N?” 

“I don’t get it…” Jisung sighs, muttering mostly to himself, “everything was fine.” 

“So what went wrong?” It takes him a second to ponder Mark’s question, but the answer sits at the tip of his tongue. The hesitation in actually speaking it out loud—a sliver of embarrassment that shows in the way he stutters. “She k-kept calling me a friend and well, I don’t know. I just… ran my mouth.”

“If she made it clear you guys were friends then why would you ask her if y’all are a thing?” Chenle wonders, raising a curious brow. Mark gives him a shove.

”Because,” he starts, “We’ve been hooking up almost the whole semester. And not just hooking up. Talking all night, flirting… meeting up between and after classes.” 

“Yeah, that’s not friendly.” Mark agrees. 

“She does like you.” Chenle says with some level of astonishment, earning another shove from Mark and a gesturing glare that alerts him of Jisung’s obvious dishevelment.

“Chenle’s right.” Mark says, in a more gentle way, “She wouldn’t do any of… that if she didn’t. Maybe,” he puts a hand on Jisung’s shoulder and the younger boy looks up through wet eyelashes, “she was just a little overwhelmed by your confession.”

“She called me a friend.” He shakes his head, “I just had sex for the first time and she called me a friend.”

Mark quickly interjects before Chenle considers saying something insensitive, “Okay. But you have to remember: her and Jaehyun dated for two and a half years—“ 

“That’s not what I wanna hear, man.”

“—And,” Mark continues, “they only broke up earlier this year. You and her are new, and she’s probably just getting used to that. Besides, you only confessed after you guys… hooked up—nothing was established before.”

“If you liked her, you should have asked her out first.” Chenle sighs..

“So this is all going wrong because I didn’t do things by the book?”

“Yes.”

“No.” Mark glares at Chenle who at this point, gives up, leaning back to watch his game in silence. “I think if you would’ve made your feelings clear before, she might have reciprocated. She assumed you two were still friends because… you technically are still friends. Maybe she didn’t want to assume and have you freak out or something.”

At this, Jisung nods slowly, processing Mark’s words. 

“What are you studying?” Chenle pokes the older boy.

“Engineering. Why? Also, we’ve lived together for two years and you don’t know my-“

“Drop out. Become a relationship counselor.” Chenle pats him on the back. Mark quickly shoves him off and turns to Jisung again who has shot out of his seat with a newfound confidence. 

“I’m gonna go and apologize.” He decides. “Thanks.”

“You’re welcome,” Chenle replies without looking up from the screen. Mark just sighs.

“Yeah. Let me know how it goes.” 

When Jisung knocks on the door to his room, he hears no answer. When he pushes the door open, he finds his room empty, with you and your things nowhere to be found. 

The first thing he feels is worry, because where did you go? Not back to yours, because Heesung was there. He knows you have other friends, but he doesn’t know if you’re close enough to any of them to stay the night at theirs, and it was almost 11PM at this point. 

He considers calling you, but if you didn’t answer, he would be shattered, more than he is already at the thought that you might have been hurt by what he said. So he settles into his bed that still smells like sex and you, and curls up on his side, legs restlessly shifting in a failed effort to get comfortable.

He spends the better part of an hour planning what to say to you tomorrow after class, or the next day, or whatever day you decide to give him a chance to explain himself and apologize for some of the things he said. Eventually, he drifts off, clutching to his chest the pillow where your head laid. 

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

Absent.

You were absent. 

You have never been absent from astronomy before. Your seat besides his is empty, and you’re absent from class. 

All morning, Jisung went over his speech as he paced around his room. He changed his sheets after finding some cum stains on it as he recited his confession, his apology. He planned how he would explain his mistake and how he would relay his understanding for your confusion. 

He went over scenarios in his head on how to possibly get you back, because truthfully, that’s all he wanted. You were all that he wanted.

And now, you weren’t here. 

Karina and Heeseung were, but the two didn’t even look his way, and had sat near the front of the class—an act which worried him, because: had you told Karina what happened? Did you go back home upset and interrupt them? Were they mad at him now, too?

Inevitably, class went by slowly. Painfully slowly. Unable to focus, all that Jisung could think about was you, so when the bell rang and all the students left the lecture room except him, he didn’t notice. The only thing that caught his attention finally, was your name being called out in Professor Hwang’s sharp tone. 

“Huh?” He looks up from his laptop.

“I asked,” she starts, not too happy about having to repeat herself, “If you knew the reason for Ms. Y/n’s absence.”

“Oh.” He mumbles. As he looks around and notices the lack of classmates at his side, he starts packing his things. “No. Why do you think I would know?”

“Because, Mr. Park, the two of you are attached at the hip.”

“Well, I don’t.” He swings his bag over his shoulder and jogs down the stairs, “Maybe Karina does.”

As he’s about to pass her, Professor Hwang points her pen at his chest, stopping him. 

“When you run into her, let her know her absence will count against her unless she has an excused note. And,” she slides her glasses off, folding them and tucking one of the legs to the neckline of her shirt, “I hope the two of you make up.”

“I-“ He’s speechless, “H-how did you know?”

“Educated guess.” she states simply. 

Jisung nods once, and she lifts her pen to allow him to pass. He heads for the door, pushing it open and making his way to the quad so that he can go home. 

He’ll just message you. That’s what he decides. He’ll just ask you to meet up with you, he thinks, that shouldn’t be too hard. 

But the moment he hits the send button on a message he so carefully crafts for you and looks back up, he sees you from across the huge field of green. 

A smile almost breaks out on his face, because he sees your hair and the pretty outfit you’ve chosen today, layered to keep you warm with a scarf tucked under your chin. But he doesn’t quite get to smile, because you’re accompanied by the last person he’d like to see you with right now. 

You pause your conversation with Jaehyun to look down at your phone, presumably to check the message Jisung just sent you. Without replying, you quickly tuck it away into your pocket. 

Jisung watches as you and Jaehyun stop and sit at a bench on the quad, engrossed in what looks like a serious conversation. 

Now: he doesn’t want to be dramatic. It’ll get him nowhere and he knows that. That being said, he still pulls your contact up again, and writes you another message, rereading the one from earlier, too. 

To: Y/n :3 

hi. i noticed you weren’t in class today…  i hope you weren’t avoiding me. i want to apologize to you in person for what happened last night. can we meet up if that’s okay? Sent at 2:10 PM.

To: Y/n :3 

i’ll be at my dorm in 10 so just pass by when you have a chance. please. 

Sent at 2:17 PM

He presses send and watches, as you pick up your phone again, read the message at lightning speed, and put it away. 

Fuck. 

•.¸¸☆*･ﾟ

Jisung feels absolutely fucking ridiculous. 

Why time seems to circle around you and waiting for you to come over so can apologize, he doesn’t know. The rest of his day is meaningless; he doesn’t eat, doesn’t study, doesn’t shower, doesn’t play video games, doesn’t call his mom, doesn’t do any of the things he normally does. 

You don’t pass by today, meaning you read his messages, and willingly ignored them or put them off. Doesn’t mean he didn’t think about you or thought about you less; your continuous absence gave him more time to think and dwell. 

He’s tired and feeling wide awake at the same time, missing your scent that he can no longer find on his sheets. Maybe he shouldn’t have washed them, even if they were filthy. He’s done worse things, like go to class with dried cum on his stomach, or used your cardigan to jack off. Your cardigan, that’s still by his desk, would have remnants of your scent, but he doesn’t have the energy to get up to retrieve it. And, even if he did, he would probably get hard and he definitely did not have the energy to jack off right now. 

So he tosses and turns restlessly until he passes out with his mouth half open and his leg half hanging off the bed. 

That night, he dreams of you. The next morning, he wakes up to someone continuously knocking on his door. 

“I’m coming,” he grumbles into his pillow, quite literally rolling out of bed and in the process, getting tangled up in his comforter and falling on the carpeted floor of his dorm with a thump.

Jisung lets out some sort of distressed moan before struggling to his feet and wobbling over to the door. His left hand rubs his elbow which braced his fall, while his injured arm reaches out for the doorknob.

The knocking hasn’t stopped, so when he opens his door, his eyes are narrowed with sleep and annoyance. 

“What?”

“Dude, why haven’t you called about the bathroom? I had to take a piss in the middle of the night and I stepped on toilet water. In my socks.”

Jisung only rolls his eyes at Mark, turning back to his bed and plopping down on it with a hiss as the rest of his body feels the damage of his fall. 

“Have you talked to her?”

“No.” Jisung grumbles.

“Okay.” Mark sighs, “Well, when are you supposed to see her again?”

Jisung looks at his phone for the time. “Right now.”

“What? Is she coming over? Should I go?”

“No, you’re good. I have astronomy with her right now.”

“When?”

With a pause, Jisung rubs his eyes as he calculates, “47 minutes ago.”

Mark huffs, “so you just didn’t go to class?”

“Nope.”

Mark steps further into the room, looking around. “Is she supposed to come over at all?”

“Hopefully.”

“Alright, then. Get up.” His eyes bounce around the room until he finds a trash bag behind a clutter of Jisung’s things, then repeats himself a little sharper. “Get up and start cleaning.”

Instantly, Jisung groans, rolling over and getting under his comforter that seconds later, is yanked off of him. He starts to complain but Mark just shoves a bag in his hands.

“Non-negotiable. You think you’re gonna win her back with your room looking like a rat’s nest? Tidy up a bit, man.”

“Okay, mom.”

Reluctantly, he follows Mark’s lead, throwing away empty water bottles and cans that littered his room, as Mark focuses on any other pointless trash like empty packaging boxes. 

“Where’s your hamper?” He asks, and Jisung extends a finger towards his closet. 

“Dude.” Jisung turns to him. “When’s the last time you did laundry? This shit is overflowing.”

“Haven’t had the energy.”

“You had plenty of energy before this week. Here,” he kicks it over carefully so it doesn’t tip, then points at the clothes that litter his room, “Put it all here and go wash it. I’ll make your bed and throw out the trash.”

Jisung has never missed his mom so much. Sure, she’d nag him about his mess for days on end, but she was his mom, so eventually, he’d come home and everything would be tidied up for him. He definitely took her for granted,  that much is painfully clear now as he gives Mark a long look of disdain. The older boy doesn’t budge; he only shoos Jisung away from the edge of the bed so he can get to work on spreading out the comforter. 

Jisung does as instructed, too tired to argue or form a fuss, especially when all Mark is doing is helping him. That being said, he does do it in a very Jisung fashion: shoving all clothes, clean or dirty, into the hamper and literally dragging it down the hall to the laundry room. That includes your cardigan, which he gives one last glance to before tossing in the washing machine. It’s about time he gave it back to you anyway.

He watches his clothes spin around and around in the cycle for two different reasons, the first being that he’s generally zoning out, thinking about you. The second being that he’s making time before going back to his room, cause despite his friends best efforts and even better intentions, he does not want to clean. 

But eventually, those two mix together, and he realizes Mark does have a point—if you came over and his room was a mess, that’s just one more thing he’d be embarrassed about. 

So, he leaves his things in the washer and sulks all the way back to his room where he finds Mark accommodating the clutter at his desk. 

“What a difference, huh?” Jisung wishes he could just shrug, but Mark’s eyes are filled with expectation. 

“Yeah, thank you.”

“Don’t mention it!” He grins, grabbing his phone from the dresser. “I’ll leave you to it. Take a shower and try texting her again.”

Jisung nods once. 

He checks the time and notices that you’d be out of class shortly, and if you didn’t come over, he’d have to stop by yours later. Regardless of how, the plan is to talk to you today, because Jisung simply can’t keep existing with his even-waking thought being you. The minute that class wraps up, he types out a message to you as he walks over to the shower. He makes a quick call to maintenance for the bathroom down the hall before turning on his ringer in case you reply and stepping into the shower. 

For a while, he lets the water run over him, hissing as the temperature fluctuates between an acceptable barely-warm and an icy cold that matches the weather outside. The building’s heating system isn’t consistent or reliable, especially as the temperature drops more and more in the winter months, so he ceases his stalling and washes himself quickly before the water decides to stop cooperating.

He types away into his phone after wrapping the towel around his waist. 

“We… really… need… to,” he reads out his text as he writes it, sighing out the last word, “talk.” 

But as he walks down the hall to his room with the towel still hanging loosely and his hair dripping over his chest and shoulders, and consequently, the innocent carpet of the hallway, his feet skid to stop. Just as his finger presses send, he hears the ‘ding’ of the receiving end. 

Both of you look up from your screens at the same time. As Jisung jumps in surprise, his towel drops, and you yelp. 

“Sorry!” You spin around and cover your eyes as frantically looks around the hall to make sure no one else saw the mishap. He picks it up and ties it around himself again, securing it in his grip this time. 

“No– I–It’s fine. You… You can look.” It’s not like you haven’t seen it before. 

Cautiously you spin around, peeking through your fingers to check before peeling your hands from your face and dropping them at your sides. The air between the two of you is thick for a minute, until you sigh dejectedly. 

“I got your texts.” You smile weakly, and Jisung can’t help but mirror your slightly embarrassed expression. The moment is awkward and bittersweet, and neither of you move until Jisung realizes he’s still standing naked in the dormitory hallway. 

“Oh, right.” He shakes his head and moves to unlock his room door. “Here,” he gestures, and follows you inside. 

You move cautiously through the small space, glancing over at his bed and chair before deciding you don���t wanna take a seat. 

“I came over because…” you sigh again, “well, because we have to talk.” 

The only word he can utter is “yeah.” as he watches the way you shift your weight between your feet, not knowing he was doing the exact same thing. 

“Do you wanna wanna maybe…” 

He follows your gaze as it reaches his towel, and he almost jumps out of it again. 

“Right! Sorry! I-” he huffs, “could you just…” 

Wordlessly, you turn around and opt for twiddling your thumbs as he waddles over to a drawer and finds a pair of shorts and shirt to slip on, but not without glancing over his shoulder to make sure you aren’t looking. 

There’s no hiding the red in his face and ears as he spins back around with his lips pursed. “I’m done.”

There’s a pause as you spin around slowly… and another pause as both of you debate the right moment to speak up. It’s so awkward that his skin crawls and his mouth runs dry. There’s no noise, only the creaking of the floor as he walks to his bed and offers you a seat beside him.

“No, I-I’m okay with standing.”

Another pause.

“Jisung–”

“Y/n–

“You first.” You both reply, and you sigh as you realize you should probably go first, seeing as you’re the one who came over to talk in the first place. 

“Okay.” With a shaky breath, you nod to yourself once before speaking, your voice coming out quieter than intended. “I came to talk to you because… Well, I saw your messages and… I don’t like how we left things off, Ji.” 

“Me either.” He admits, looking down at the floor as his mind swarms him with all the possible things you may or may not say. 

“I talked to Jaehyun earlier. He’s my, uh,”

“Ex.” He says at the same time as you, and both of you make eye contact.

Jisung’s heart pounds as you stand before him, voice tentative and unsure. When you say, “It wasn’t fair of me to downplay everything between us. I just… I got scared,” he can’t help but clench his jaw. He wants to be understanding, to remember that you’re figuring things out too, but the memory of you calling him just a friend gnaws at him. How was he supposed to take that?

“So… was it just comfort for you, then? Convenience? A quick fuck?” he blurts, his voice tight. “Because I thought I meant something to you.” He doesn’t intend for it to sound so raw, but the words slip out anyway, his vulnerability laid bare.

You look up at him finally, eyes wide. “You do. You mean more to me than anyone ever has, Jisung,” you say, looking at him with a mixture of guilt and longing. His heart stutters. 

You take a shaky breath. “I talked to Jaehyun about us.” Jisung’s eyebrows shoot up. You talked to Jaehyun, that much he knew. But about him? He swallows thickly, nodding for you to continue, bracing himself for whatever you’re about to say.

“He told me that… that you’re a good guy,” you continue, voice soft. “He said I’d be lucky if you… if we…” You trail off, biting your lip, and Jisung’s heart tightens. 

“So… Jaehyun’s okay with what happened between us?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, looking at him with an intensity that makes his heart race. “He is. And he’s right, Jisung. You’re good to me, and I don’t want to push you away. I didn’t want to call it something more because I was afraid I’d mess it up. But now… I don’t want to ignore it anymore.”

He lets out a shaky breath, feeling the weight of your words. He takes a small step toward you, closing the distance, his hand lifting almost on instinct to brush against your cheek.

“Are you serious?” he asks softly, his voice barely steady. “Because if you’re in, I’m in. I’ve been in this whole time. I’ve wanted us to be more, and if you’re ready, I’m… I’m here.”

You nod, relief and a hesitant smile lighting up your face. In that moment, Jisung’s fears and doubts melt away slowly. He pulls you into his arms, holding you close, as if he’s finally found his way through the maze of emotions you both have been lost in.

In the warmth of his embrace, you whisper, “I’ve got you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

Jisung holds you close, but there’s a hesitation in his touch, like he’s afraid this might disappear if he lets himself fully believe it. His fingers press into your back, grounding himself in the feeling of you, warm and real against him. He swallows, his heart heavy with the months of wanting, wondering, hoping, and fearing. Finally, he lets his eyes close, murmuring, “I thought I’d have to keep pretending forever, you know? Like maybe if I just waited long enough, I’d be okay with just… us as friends.” He laughs softly, the sound more fragile than he intends. “But I was never okay. I don’t think I ever would’ve been.”

You pull back slightly, your heart aching at the vulnerability in his voice.  You search his eyes, looking for the hesitation, the doubt that lingers in his gaze. 

“I know,” you say quietly, your voice soft but full of sincerity. “I wasn’t fair to you. I didn’t give you the chance you deserved. I was so afraid of what it could mean, of what I could lose, that I… I pushed you away.”

Jisung’s jaw tightens, and you can see the struggle in his eyes. “But now you’re here. Saying you want this… with me,” he whispers, his hands shaking slightly as he cups your face. “How do I know… how do I know you won’t change your mind again?”

“I don’t know,” you admit softly, your voice quivering. “But I do know that I’m not running this time. I’m here.”

And then, almost imperceptibly, you both laugh. It’s soft at first, a tiny giggle that slips out between the quiet, and it catches both of you off guard. The sound is shaky, like it’s laced with the bittersweet relief of finally breaking the tension that’s been building between you for so long. 

“God,” Jisung chuckles, his hands moving down to your shoulders, giving you a soft squeeze. 

The smile between you both widens as you inch closer, drawn by the gravity of each other’s presence. Slowly, almost cautiously, you lean in. And when your lips finally meet, it’s tender and slow. 

The kiss deepens, and this time, there’s no hesitation. Jisung pulls you closer, his hands resting at the small of your back, guiding you into him as if he wants to feel every inch of you, to make sure this is real. You respond just as eagerly, wrapping your arms around his neck, allowing yourself to melt into the warmth of him, the gentleness that’s always been there beneath the surface.

His lips move against yours with a tenderness that makes your heart swell, as though he’s savoring the moment, soaking in everything that’s been unsaid for so long. The kiss is slow, deliberate, and full of promise. There’s no rush—just the sweet, simple taste of your mouth on his. 

When you pull back, both of you are breathless, grinning at each other. His hand gently cups your face, his thumb brushing over your lips, still tasting the lingering sweetness of the kiss.

You laugh softly, resting your forehead against his. “I’ve always been here. I just needed to realize it.” You tilt your head back slightly, locking eyes with him.

With a gentle pull, Jisung brings you in for another kiss, this one more playful, less tender, but just as full of emotion. 

You pull away first, your lips tingling, and look at him with a teasing smile. “So, what now?” you ask, a little shy.

He raises an eyebrow, his grin matching yours. “Now, we take this one step at a time, but together.” He wraps his arms around you once more, pulling you into him with an ease that feels natural, “And maybe…” he starts, voice teasing as he buries his face in your neck, “we make up for lost time.”

You gasp out softly, tilting your head to give him room to continue to kiss and lick at your throat, “sounds… good to me.” 

He turns his head, his lips brushing the edge of your ear, “Let me lay you down, yeah?”

You nod, ‘Mhm…”

Jisung pulls you closer, his hands sliding down your back as the space between you both shrinks. The air feels thick with anticipation, and the playful teasing that once filled the room fades, replaced by something deeper, more pressing. His touch is gentle yet urgent, guiding you toward the bed with a quiet confidence, the two of you knowing exactly what comes next. 

The world outside this moment feels distant, irrelevant. There’s nothing but the heat of his skin against yours, the way your bodies fit together so naturally, as he realizes, he finally got you. 

*. * ·

[blimpintime]

jade green prologue

azriel x reader

in which Azriel has a personal healer, and she needs to be saved.

word count: 830 words

warnings: light angst, head injury, rhys is an asshole!

unedited

Being a traveling healer meant a few things; one, knowing how to defend yourself is the most important thing next to healing. Two, paying attention to new science and healing techniques will always benefit you and your patient. Lastly, being kind to everyone you meet, will get you further than having people fear you. 

Well, for the most part. Sometimes defending yourself and staying kind contradict one another hence why you are running, no, rolling down a snowy mountain trying to outrun some bandits. 

The snow is wet and mushy, not quite the firm snow that Illriya gets further into the cold season, so you are having a hard time grasping anything to regain balance and stability. Your winter gear is starting to become soaked with the cold and wet ground you have been sliding in, and eventually, you are wet head to toe when you slide into a river with no way to slow yourself down or stop.

Your head reemerges from the frigid water rushing around you, face freezing and refreshed at the same time. The sky is a bright white reflecting off the snow on the mountain making it hard for you to see. At this point, you have no idea what direction you are even facing or heading towards, and your body is dropping its temperature rapidly. 

“Shit.” You manage to cough out, your bag of healing items now long gone in the river.

 You try swimming toward a branch you see floating near you but get swept by the current and smack your head on the branch instead, causing everything around you to go dark.

There is not much that will get a reaction of Azriel but seeing one of his close friends (who he hasn’t seen in years)  floating lifeless in the Sidra was a scenario that made his stomach drop to his feet. 

He isn’t sure how he recognized you, floating face up in the water and blueish gray, but he is glad he did because he quickly shot down to where you were and ripped your frigid body out of the painfully cold water his hands going numb with pain. Your hair glowing around your face no doubt your healing abilities trying to save your body a little, but it is clearly having a hard time considering you still have a large gash on your forehead dripping sticky blood. 

He lifts your lifeless body into his strong arms and winnows to Madja’s healers’ cabin. He feels your pulse faintly but at least it is still there. A bit of panic flushes through his body when he realizes how long you have been in this state. And then anger washes over him, who could do this to someone so kind? He thinks harshly to himself.

Where are you, brother? A voice appears in his head, Not now Rhys. He responds sharply. 

Oh, at a pleasure house? Finally, taking up my advice? Don’t forget about family dinner. Rhysand quips back in a joking tone, to which Azriel blocks him out completely. 

He could not care less about family dinner more than he did right now. You limp in his arms freezing cold with blue lips and eyes faintly closed with what looked to be ice crystals around your lashes and eyebrows. You who have saved him from the brink of death on more than one occasion. You were all that mattered in this moment. 

When Madja finally helped you in, you were lying there with your chest softly rising on the bed. He couldn’t leave your side nor did he want to. 

“It is good you found her when you did,” Madja spoke to him. “She was getting to dangerous levels of freezing. Without her abilities, I am fairly certain her blood would have frozen.” 

Azriel winced and ran a hand through his hair, “I don’t even know what she was doing here. I have never met with her in Velaris.” He responded softly.

“You know her?” Madja asked in the same tone.

“Yeah.” He cleared his throat, “Long time friends.” 

She nodded in response. “She should wake when she is warm enough. If there is anything else I can do just yell for me, but I will be in my office.” With that, she walks off and closes the door gently.

Azriel for once does not know what to do, sitting there feels like a waste of time when he could be hunting those down who did this to you. However, he does not want you to wake up alone and confused.

Then he thinks about how he is expected to be at family dinner with his happily mated brothers and the girl he thought he was infatuated with. He felt guilty for a moment thinking about his family being happy when you were lying here lifeless, but then felt anger towards someone he calls a brother. A pleasure house? He scoffs verbally. His soul aches for companionship but right now all that matters is when you wake up. 

a/n: it is a little guy but welcome to the prologue!

[jflemings]

— loose lips sink ships pt7

pairing: jessie fleming x reader

synopsis: a light begins to shine at the end of the tunnel

warnings: shorter than i wanted it to be 🥴

୧ ‧₊˚ 🍁 ⋅ ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚

jessie rounds the corner slowly, almost like you’re going to bolt. her face softens and she leans her hip on the counter “i don’t… i don’t know if i have one”

you visibly deflate at jessie’s words. on one hand, you’re relieved to know that she didn’t do it out of malice, but on the other, the way a simple lie slipped off her tongue so easily didn’t feel good. you didn’t want to question your whole relationship with jessie, but you were beginning to think that maybe you had too.

you sighed. “is there anything else you’ve lied to me about?”

she tucks her wet hair behind her ear “other than birthday presents, surprises and the few times i’ve had to lie to you about what time an event started so we could arrive on time? no.” she says with a small smile “i’ve been nothing but honest with you through our whole relationship. every time i’ve told you that i love you, that i would do anything for you, that there’s no one else in the world for me. i meant it. i don’t have an excuse or an answer you want and, i’m sorry for that, but it was never my intention to lie to you about my previous relationship.”

you take in everything she’s saying, listen to every word intently, and pause for a moment. she looks more confident standing in front of you now — unlike how she was when you first walked in — and you can’t help but begin to relent.

sitting on a bar stool, you drop the charger and your keys onto the counter, propping your feet on the footrest. for the first time since you walked in you take in the appearance of your shared apartment and your girlfriend. there’s a few dirty dishes in the sink, the shoe rack by the front door is in disarray, and if you look down the hallway you think you can see dirty laundry on the bedroom floor. then you look at jessie, and begin to notice how worn she looks. her eyes aren’t lively like they usually are and she looks like she hasn’t slept. you purse your lips.

“have you slept?” you question abruptly with your eyes narrowed at her

jessie squirms under your gaze “uh— no. not really”

you nod towards the barstool that’s opposite you and kick it out from the bench so she can sit down. the canadian hesitates for a moment before doing as you wordlessly asked, keeping the towel secure around her as she sits and shuffles to get comfortable.

“have you eaten?”

“that’s irrelevant”

“jessie” you level her with a look and hook your foot around the leg of the stool, dragging it towards you.

jessie looks towards the fridge “i was just about to make myself something”

silence once again begins to suffocate you. you don’t know where to go from here, especially after she told you that there was no rhyme or reason for her apparent mistake and as you sit in front of her, you don’t know if you want to kiss or kill her.

you’re angry at her for something so careless so early on, for telling you a lie about something and somebody so important to her. this wasn’t a college fling — this was jessie’s first love.

“you never answered my question about your old feelings resurfacing” you say quietly.

jessie looks into your eyes “there’s no romantic feelings” she says without missing a beat “none at all”

“why didn’t you just tell me that before?”

“because,” she rubs her hand over her brow bone “what i felt when i saw her again was hard to explain. it wasn’t love, but it was a sense of nostalgia. i hadn’t seen her since before i left for london and, i don’t know, i couldn’t really pin point what i was feeling at the time”

“i don’t think i understand” your voice cracks “how can you be nostalgic over a past relationship but feel nothing towards her?”

jessie pauses in contemplation for a moment before grabbing your hand and holding it firm in her own. “because by the time olivia and i split up i had fallen out of love with her. we had held on for the last few months until i started getting offers from clubs overseas but it was clear to the both of us that it was over”

she squeezes your hand “she was my first love, that’s true, but you are the one i want to be with for the rest of my life. i’m sorry that my actions made you doubt everything, and i’m sorry that i let you walk out without even trying to give you a real explanation, but please believe me. i don’t feel anything towards olivia”

your eyes glass over as you tip your head back to look at the ceiling. you believe her. you know you believe the love of your life. but you just can’t shake the way you felt when you walked out on her. the way the betrayal caved in your heart and made it hard to breathe was something you never want to experience again, especially not as the hands of someone as warm as jessie.

“you really hurt me, jess” a shaky breath stutters it’s way out of your throat as you look her in the eyes again “and i never, ever, want to feel that way again”

“i never want to make you feel that way again,” she squeezes your hand again and tears brim her eyes “and i’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you give me the chance”

“i think i’m still going to stay at sam’s, at least for the rest of the week”

disappointment flashes across jessie’s face before she gives you a small smile “okay, just let me know if you need anything for the rest of the week”

“i’m gonna grab some clean clothes whilst i’m here”

jessie nods and stands “okay. i’ll just be getting changed” she jerks her thumb back towards the bathroom “don’t mind the state of the bedroom”

jessie retreats back to the bathroom whilst you grab your duffel from the couch and head for the bedroom. you were right, it was a bit of a mess. at least by jessie’s standards.

it was weird to see the room in such general disorder considering the fact that your girlfriend was so good at keeping her space clean. you pick things up off the floor and throw them into the dirty washing before beginning to pull out your own clean clothes, grabbing at least three more day’s worth of things you’re going to need.

you also straighten up the bed and throw the small amount of rubbish that has accumulated before jessie comes back into the bedroom, a look of apology already on her face. her eyes go slightly wide when she walks in.

“you didn’t have to clean up my mess. i can do it myself”

you shrug and zip up your bag once you’re sure you have enough pairs of socks “yeah, but i was in here anyway and you do the same for me all the time”

“thank you” she says, stuffing her hands into the pockets of her hoodie “and you should take the ice pack, you know the one you fill up instead of freeze? it’ll probably be more comfortable on your nose”

your eyes soften “i will” you step towards her and put a hand on her face softly, searching her eyes before giving her a quick kiss on the corner of her mouth. her face goes ablaze. “i love you,” you say to her softly “and i’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”

jessie’s hand cups yours “okay”

you pat her face lovingly and pull away, heading out of the bedroom before you look over your shoulder “please eat something”

“i will” she responds, a blush still dusting her freckled cheeks.

your heart flutters as you leave the apartment as quietly as you came, the weight lifting off your shoulders with ease. your relationship wasn’t back to where it was before, but you no longer felt like jessie was beginning to be out of your reach like you had for the past few days. at the very least you knew that she still loved you and for the moment, that’s all that mattered.

[lilyswritings]

late.

synopsis: your boyfriend’s superhero antics give you a fright, and it’s up to him to reassure you of his well-being when he returns home from the fight. 

author’s note: i’ll admit, this has been sitting in my drafts for the longest time... likely since no way home came out! but i’ve been trying to get back into the swing of writing, and i figured it was a good idea to start with finishing up some works in progress before diving into anything new. so here’s some peter angst and fluff, just like the good ol’ days. enjoy!! 

wordcount: 1,613 

18. “It’s late. Shouldn’t you be asleep?” 25. “What the hell were you thinking?!” 48. “Why are you crying?”

Peter Parker x Reader

      The window to the bedroom slides open, a figure in blue and red quietly stepping through the frame and carefully sliding the window shut behind him, all the while listening intently for any signs of life in the apartment beyond. Satisfied that he hasn’t woken his aunt, Peter turns around only to be startled by a figure sat in the darkness of the room, criss-cross on his bed. 

      “Shit.” He curses, huffing out a laugh when he realizes it’s only you. “It’s late,” Peter starts, tugging his mask off and tossing it onto his desk as he turns towards his closet to grab a t-shirt and sweatpants. “Shouldn’t you be asleep?” 

      He doesn’t notice how silent you are until you don’t respond, when he turns around mid-unzipping his outfit to find you staring at him — like you’ve seen a ghost. Later, he’ll blame the shadows in the darkened room as why he didn’t immediately notice the shine of dried tears on your cheeks, or the way you’d bitten your nails down to the skin like you always did when you were panicking. 

      For now, though, he’s too focused on getting out of his suit and into comfortable clothes, the events of the evening still making his brain run haywire as he runs everything that he did that went wrong through his mind, planning for next time. 

      “Look, I’m sorry for returning so late,” He begins, tugging the suit off. “I lost track of time, I meant to text you but I think my phone got smashed in the fight and I’m probably going to have to at least replace the screen if not the whole thing.” He rambles, until finally, he’s changed entirely into casual clothes, and he lets out a sigh. When he turns around, finally, your expression has morphed from one of shock into anger, and he frowns at the sudden shift in emotion. 

      “What?” He asks, immediately wracking his brain for what he could have done to piss you off in the last few minutes. In response, you push yourself up and off the bed, coming to stand face-to-face with him as you take in his injuries, brow furrowed and arms crossed.

      “What was that?” You ask, gesturing vaguely to the window in reference to his escapades of the night.

      “Oh, it was just that Rhino guy again, turns out he escaped from prison and was trying the same ol’ shtick of—”

      “Rhino?” You cut him off, hands moving to your hips, and Peter winces, realizing his error. 

      “Yeah, uh, I know I said I wouldn’t take him on again by myself, but he was actively driving away with some radioactive materials and the police weren’t even close to him at that point so if I hadn’t stepped in chances are he would have gotten away and—”

      “So you went alone? What the hell were you thinking?” You demand, not letting him finish, watching his eyebrows tug together as he becomes defensive. 

      “Hey, come on, I can handle myself. I’m Spider-Man.” Peter retorts with a cocky smile, although still evidently confused, and you shove at his chest. “What the hell—” He begins to argue, smile dropping.

      “It’s not funny. You could have been killed!” You hiss, barely containing an angry shouting match as you try to keep your voice down to not wake Aunt May up. 

      “Are you— Why are you crying?” Peter asks, finally, and you freeze, only now noticing the feeling of tears running down your cheeks. He steps forwards delicately, hands up, and you step back, watching his expression morph into one of hurt.

      “What’s going on with you?” He asks, obviously confused, and you fling a hand out towards your open laptop as your other hand comes up to hastily scrub at your cheeks, as if to erase the tears altogether. 

     Peter, still looking at you with concern in his eyes, hesitantly sits down on the bed and turns the laptop on. The blue glow of the screen lights up his face as he reads the open article, mouth opening slightly as he pieces together your reaction. 

      The headline ‘Spider-Man: Gone For Good?’ stares back at him, along with an attached video of himself in his costume being smashed into the side of a building and remaining there, unmoving, until the video cuts out. ‘Spider-Man severely injured... Worried crowd of onlookers... Has the city’s hero been defeated?... No sign of hero since the incident...’ Peter’s eyes skim the article, before he turns to face you with a softened expression, noticing that you haven’t stopped crying, though you’re frustratedly scrubbing at your face in hopes of wiping away the evidence.

      He stands up from the bed and approaches you, and this time, you let him place his hands on your shoulders as you wipe at your face. “I’m so sorry,” He starts, voice quiet, moving to tilt your chin up with his hand. “That must have been really scary for you.”

      You swallow thickly, taking in a shaky breath as you lock eyes with him. “It said you were dead.” You whisper, voice breaking slightly on the last word. “The video—” You stop yourself, tears beginning to well up anew in your eyes, and Peter winces.

      “I’m sorry. I didn’t know there was a news station, I was just— I needed to rest for a minute, that was it. I had no idea...” He curses himself internally — he should have been on the lookout for cameras, what if he’d taken his mask off? He never wanted you to see him in a fight, let alone see him get hurt that badly. 

      You nod, hand coming up to rest on his cheek, eyes skimming over the bruise on his cheekbone that seems to be disappearing with each passing second. Yay healing powers, you think sarcastically. “Okay. I’m sorry for snapping at you.” You take in another breath, this time less shaky. “I was just so scared.” You admit, and there you go again, fresh tears falling as you curse and look down at the floor.

      Peter takes that as his cue to envelop you in a hug, tucking your head into the crook of his neck and tugging you closer, arms locked around you protectively. “I’m here. I’m okay.” He utters the affirmations into your neck, pressing a feather-light kiss there as if to prove it. 

      “It’ll take more than that to get rid of me.” He huffs into your hair. Though his words are obviously meant to lighten the mood, the cocky attitude reminds you one again of your initial frustration, and you impulsively pull away and launch your first forward to punch Peter in the shoulder. 

      Of course it only ends up startling him, and the impact feels like you just punched a wall — curse you, superhero muscles — and you pull your hand back with a muttered curse. His dark eyebrows tug together as he holds a hand over the spot you hit. 

      “What was that?” He asks, eyes darting from your fist to your face, tone concerned although you detect a hint of amusement in his soft brown eyes at the instant repercussions for your outburst. 

      “It’s not funny. You fucking scared me.” You grumble, cradling your now-throbbing fist against your chest, and he huffs out a short laugh. “Don’t laugh at me.” You scold, though your anger is dissolving by the second just due to his reassuring presence. 

     “I already said I’m sorry—” You frown at his casual attitude. “—don’t punch me again—” He interjects hurriedly. “—but I am sorry. Really sorry. I’ll be more careful next time, I promise.” 

    “You’d better.” You frown, still trying to eradicate the image of his prone form lying among the rubble, no sign of movement or life. “Or at least fucking text me, or, or call me, or— send a Spider-signal or something! Next time your phone breaks, I want you to use a payphone.” You decide, nodding, and he laughs under his breath. 

      “Okay,” He concedes, stepping closer to you and kissing you on the forehead. “I’ll build a little pocket into the suit to hold some quarters.”

      You roll your eyes at the sass, but your smile betrays you as you lean into his touch, his arms coming up to encircle you. “Don’t be a smartass.” You mutter into his shoulder, and he laughs. 

      “Can we go to bed now?” He asks, pressing a kiss to your temple, and you nod. “I’m wiped, and I think you might be too.” You nod again, sighing and going to pull away from him, but he holds you tighter and your brow furrows in confusion. 

       “I thought you wanted to go to bed—” Your words are cut off by a squeal of surprise and he holds you fast to his chest and shoots a web at the wall above his bed, tugging the both of you onto the bed in one swooping motion. 

      You land sideways, eyes wide, and erupt into a stifled laugh at his antics. “You’re insane, it would have taken us all of ten seconds to walk over and get in bed!” You scold, and he finally lets you go and shrugs, pulling the blanket up and over the both of you.

      “And this way, it took us one second.” He smirks, and you smack him on the chest. 

      “Okay, Spider-Man.” You retort, voice mocking, but he smiles and presses a kiss to your forehead, wrapping his arms around you once more. The room goes quiet, your breaths slowing and deepening as you lie in Peter’s arms, and just as you are about to fall into a deep sleep, you smile as you hear him utter three lovely little words.

      “I love you.”

[minarinnn]

content/trigger warnings: angst, tlt spoilers!!, slight manipulation, yelling, aggression, implied relationship, inspired on favorite crime but not really that noticiable

you knew. you knew from the start that luke was the lighting thief. even worse, you helped him.

you knew that it was wrong, that he was wrong. that the path he was taking wasn’t the right one. but how could you tell him that when he so lovingly asked you to help him with his plan??

it was torture for you, having to keep such a thing from everybody at camp. watching the new kid, who seemed so sweet and innocent, be blamed for it and sent on a dangerous quest. one that would likely kill him. then finding out from luke that they suspect clarisse, one of your closest friends, to be the lighting thief.

“luke, hasn’t this gone too far? i mean, what if something bad happens to clarisse??” you asked, completely worried for your friend. afraid of the god’s wrath, for they are not know for showing mercy. “too far?” luke scoffed, turning to look at you “you wanna be a slave for the gods until you drop dead?”. he was clearly offended by your statement. “there’s bound to be collateral damage”

you sat in a secluded part of the forest, barely crossing the camp border. everyone was celebrating percy’s accomplishment, y’know, stopping the war and all. luke had told you to wait there, he didn’t tell you what he was going to do, he never did. but you sure knew what you were gonna do.

it was time to get away from this mess. even if it meant losing luke, you didn’t wanna be a part of this. and to be completely honest, you’re not sure that was your luke anymore. he’d gotten so different, and you were so worried when you first noticed the change. but after he told you and asked you to join him, could you really say no?

what seemed to be a portal opened up from a nearby tree, luke stepped out of it. he was panicked, almost scared, sweat rolled down his forehead and his eyes were almost glossy. you got up so fast it was almost instinct. “luke?” “we’re leaving, right now” he spoke urgently, frantically looking around.

“i’m not going with you, luke” you felt your breath escaping your body. luke froze, as if he couldn't believe what he had just heard. his eyes are practically glued onto your face now, even more hurt than they were a moment ago. “what?” he breathed out, eyes and eyebrows narrowing at you in disbelief.

“i don't want to turn my back on my friends and watch them suffer" you could feel a lump building in your throat as you stare back at luke. "i know how much this hurts, believe me. but this path you're taking it’s.. it's not the right one. and deep down, i think you know that too..”.

luke’s face contorts into a mixture of pain and anger. "you’re wrong" he spat out "you don't understand. we’re fighting for something bigger than ourselves. we’re fighting for our freedom” you took a step back, trying to protect yourself from his anger and desperation. "i understand that" you said “but i just don’t think that this is the way to do it. you’re hurting people, people who used to be your friends.. you're putting yourself in danger”

luke let out a bitter laugh, his hands clenching into fists, knuckles practically white. "danger?" he scoffed "danger is all around us— we’re demigods, for heaven's sake! danger is part of our life. but at least i’m doing something about it, instead of just sitting back and waiting for inevitable death”

you shook your head, tears threatening to spill from your glossy eyes. luke stares back at you in and his eyes soften, his expression shifting from anger to sadness. "why do you have to make this so hard?" he whispers, voice breaking slightly “just come with me and we’ll finally be free from all of th-“ "i can't be a part of this anymore, luke.. i’m sorry”

"i thought you loved me" he spoke with sadness and bitterness in his voice, taking a step closer to you while his eyes travels through yours. “i do love you” you exclaim, tested finally streaming down your cheeks “and that’s exactly why i cant watch you do this to yourself”

luke’s expression froze as he processed your response. he was clearly hurt, but perhaps more so by the realization that he had lost your support. he had been so sure that you would choose to go with him, that you would stand by his side no matter what. but now he saw the hesitation in your eyes, the resolve within you.

"i see..” he says, voice barely above a whisper. his hands travel up to the side of your face and he pulls you in for one final kiss. the kiss is sweet yet the only thing you could both feel was regret, regret of leaving the person you love most behind.

“stay.. please, stay” you whisper. his sad eyes answer for him, and you close your eyes in disappointment. "i’ll miss you” he added, kissing the top of your head.

luke turned and disappeared through the portal, leaving you alone in the forest. as he walked away, you catch’d a glimpse of tears in his eyes, but he didn’t look back. you feel a pit in your stomach, a mix of guilt and anger, as you stand alone in the forest, unsure of what to do next. in your point of view, you were just collateral damage to him.

© MINARINNN 2024 - please do not plagiarize or upload my content on any social media platform.

[blenselche]

insert for ch2

"Finn, come on."

background items: Marcy Acoustic set poster from Scream Queens, Fern's leaves pressed between glass, Finn's Candy Kingdom diplomat pin, the cash he won in a bet in the comic Marcy & Simon, the dimensional sword, root sword. I wanted to add more but thought it'd get too busy.

closer view and excerpt under the cut

He finds himself before the sink, mussing up his oily hair and disheveled beard to rid himself of wood chips, splashing water over his face and coughing after breathing deep off a stale cigarette. The cherry fizzles back at him against the aluminum as he taps it off into an empty. He tugs at the bottom of his eyelid — the whites of his eyes are yellowing again. Pressing his forehead to the mirror and staring at his reflection he sees Martin's eyes, jaw and brow. He sees his maladjusted view, understands now what he meant, in the end.

He can't look in a mirror without seeing the man staring back at him, and it only gets worse with age.

“You’re fine. Today was just a bad day,” he recites just as he’s been told to, loyal tool of the kingdom that he is, a coping mechanism PB calls self affirmation. He leans back, scoffing, “in a long line of bad days.”

His feet carry him to the stump set before his wood stove, and the air toasts his frozen fingers and melts away the pins and needles in the skin that his port connects to. Anxiety bubbles its way up his esophagus and he drowns it with a long pull off his homebrew, eyes flickering from the bottle to his prosthetic, foot tapping furiously. He sighs and gives into the itch at the back of his brain, taking the wish out and reading it over again, biting more teeth marks into a pencil already shredded down to the lead.

It’s something to look forward to. Something he can put off, hoping ‘it gets better’ but it hasn’t and he’s almost certain it won’t. A morbid form of motivation to get more built, work harder, save more people, hoping against hope he’ll wake up happy before he has to spirit himself away. But none of it matters without fulfillment, sat alone and suffocating under his own melancholy in this empty space, only a facsimile of a loved one on his chest for company. He wants to see his brother, he wants to see his mom. He wants from the bottom of his being to go back and smack himself for being dumb, deaf and blind in the face of his own wants and needs. He hunches more in on himself and clutches it harder, it crinkles back at him, threatening another rip.

Slim, sage colored fingers enter his vision and pluck the precious slip of writing from his hand.

“I’ll give it back if you clean yourself up and go to bed.”

“I have it memorized,” he sighs. “I thought you believed in nihilism, anyway, Miss nothing matters and the wind makes my decisions.” Their eyes meet and he can’t help himself but to smile, though it doesn’t reach the rest of his face.

“I believe in natural predeterminism inscribed on our souls by our great earth mother, not in being a sad sack with whisky dick.”

“Ouch. My ego,” he drones, throwing his palm to his chest in faux hurt. “Like I’m disappointing anyone these days. Cot’s closed, sweetheart.”

“So not why I’m here.” She rolls her eyes and holds her hand out, motioning for the bottle.

“If you crack it open against my floor you owe me a face cord of firewood.” He hands it over by the neck and she takes a fifth straight, wiping her mouth with the back of her glove and gagging. “Christ, bad day?”

“Not yet.” She sighs deeply, clearing her throat of the burn and takes a seat on the floor next to him. “You’re going to be pissed with me. I thought saying anything would just upset you, but you’re still set on doing this,” she waves the wish in her hand, “so. It might help. I don’t know.”

“What are you talking about?” His voice drops decibels, adam’s apple bobbing as he gruffly clears his throat.

“I swear to you I didn’t keep this from you on purpose.” She huffs a sigh and peers up at him guiltily. “You know, Fern crashed in my woods with LSP, but we never spoke. Not until the war.”

“…” his breath gets caught in his lungs, burning.

“I forgot. There was so much going on, back then.” She blinks at him, brows steepled, and covers his hand with her own. “What he said— when I did remember I thought it would just break your heart all over again, so I’ve kept it to myself.”

His hackles raise and defensiveness floods his veins, skin hot and starting to prick with nervous sweat. “Excuse me?” he asks, resistive.

Her eyes hold his though, expression full of pity unchanged. “Finn. Come on.” Her thumb brushes against his knuckles and he shakes her off.

His anger speaks for him, misplaced and protective of his brittle heart. “It’s been a decade and you think I’m like this over some kid I knew for half a minute when we were teenagers?”

“He wasn’t just some kid, I‘ve seen you- you know. Lurking in his tree. It’s a contributing factor in your whole bummer lifestyle because you never processed his death. Or are we still pretending that he has nothing to do with us?” Her voice is gentle but firm, not entertaining his usual evasiveness.

“I'm not doing this,” he snaps, shutting down. He stands and walks to the door, holding it open even though the cold night air will chill the space again. “I am sorry, ‘Tess, for— for whatever you think you know. I can’t rehash it. I’ve buried that shit deep, and it’s gonna stay there.”

“I asked him what he was fighting for. He was dying, falling apart under me, I was just trying to keep him distracted," she barrels ahead anyway. “He looked me in the eye and said ‘same as you.’ Maybe he opened up to me because of what was happening to him, or because he knew we had— you in common, I’m not sure.” She looks at him with such compassionate sympathy that it makes him nauseous. “He adored you, Finn—“ his knees buckle, “—he said he was happy to die for you if it meant he could 'make up for everything that happened after you left him behind’.” She stands and reads the wish, scrutinizing. “If you truly need to do this to be happy… knowing that can’t hurt.”

How he’s able to remain upright he doesn’t know, but a flash of devastation covers his face before he can recover.

“Please, don’t tell me his business,” he rasps, voice wavering. “I can’t,” he begs, croaking out the words through the raw vice of emotion choking him. “I can’t think about it.” He closes his eyes, pleading with his whole body.

He feels a hand brush against his cheek, and her lips press to his softly, whispering “I’ll miss you.”

When he opens his eyes again she’s gone. Bottle and paper placed neatly on his stool. He closes the door and leans against it, hugging himself and breathing hard, face hot with upset. The more he tries to calm himself the closer he comes to hyperventilating, and when the tears start his breathing only worsens. He crams his fist against his mouth and takes a shuddering gasp in, close to wailing over it.

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Never Meant to See You Again

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

Summary: Your ex-boyfriend, Jake Seresin, confesses how he really feels. Meanwhile, it's raining, so he looks sexy af doing it.

CW: ANGST - sorry, my loves. I know it's Valentine's season but sometimes you just wanna hurt so good.

WC: 1600+

This fic was written for @roosterforme's love is in the air tgm challenge! Inspired by the song I Wish It Would Rain Down by Phil Collins.

Masterlist

“Hey!” you hear the desperation in his voice even with the deafening wind. “Y/N!” he shouts when you don’t stop walking. “Will you just” – he pleads, the sound of his voice growing closer despite your quickening pace – “Just for one second, just” –

You feel his hand close around your arm and you whip your head around. Jake watches you with a grimace as the wind pummels his face. “What?” you ask aggressively.

Jake lets go of you and shrugs, spreading his arms to indicate that he hasn’t thought this far ahead. “We have to coexist, Y/N.”

“Great,” you respond. “Let’s do that.” You start walking again – briskly because the sky is darkening and your hair is starting to escape its bun and swipe violently at your face.

You hear him sighing just before a boom of thunder drowns out his approaching footsteps. He falls in step with you despite you trying to keep your distance. “We’re on the same team,” he says, loudly enough that you can hear him despite the howling wind.

You glance up at him distrustfully as he slows his pace to meet your gaze.

“Y/N,” he starts again.

“Don’t.” You shake your head, tearing your eyes away from his overgrowth of stubble, still walking.

“Look,” he says, taking a hold of your arm again to get your attention. “I know that you don’t need me,” he pauses, watching you steadily. “You don’t need me in your life.” He sighs, regret stealing over his features. “But you might still need me up there.” He points up at the rolling clouds overhead with the same hand that’s holding his helmet, because his other one is still firmly wrapped around your forearm.

You glare at him mutely. Jake Seresin might have been a shitty boyfriend, but he’s a hell of a pilot and you know that he’s right.

Jake lets out a resigned breath. “Wasn’t my idea. I never meant to see you again, babe.”

“Don’t call me that.”

“It’s temporary,” he says and you wonder if he’s referring to the mission you’ve both been called back for or him calling you ‘babe’.

“We should go inside,” you say stoically as the weather that’s put your training on hold for the day deteriorates further.

Jake nods, his eyes still lingering on yours, stalling. He takes a moment to run a hand through his hair, longer these days but no less obnoxiously becoming. “I’m sorry,” he whispers.

“Not now, Seresin,” you say flatly, starting for the hangar again. You feel the first drop of rain land on your forehead.

“Y/N,” he says.

You turn to see him standing there defeatedly, watching you with a miserable expression. You can tell that he’s still hurting and, despite utterly hating his guts, it isn’t easy to see him in pain. The year of distance has tempered your loathing, much to your dismay, and now you find yourself almost feeling sorry for the man. Almost. “Was there something else?” you ask, trying to keep your breathing steady as you meet his gaze.

He gives you a small smile. “Just that, it’s good to see you.”

You exhale sharply as his words send a jolt through your body. “It’s starting to rain,” you state, wavering on the spot while Jake stands perfectly still. Further down the flightline, the maintenance crews are retreating after having secured the last of the equipment before the storm.

Jake takes a step forward while you focus on remaining upright against the gusts of wind. But his growing proximity isn’t helping you feel steady on your feet.

You let him come right up to you before finally taking a step back. “I’m not getting caught out in this storm,” you say, retreating.

Jake glances up at the skies as though he’s welcoming the impending shower. “It’s just a bit of water,” he says as the rain starts coming down harder. “It’ll be over soon enough.”

But he knows as well as you do that you aren’t one to wait around, hoping that the storm will pass. You don’t have that kind of patience. “I can be civil,” you call, walking backward as the downpour intensifies.

Jake watches you through the heavy rain pelting the tarmac. You try to catch your breath as it washes over your face and trickles past the collar of your flight suit, soaking your undershirt. “Me too,” he responds.

You flex your hands, curling them into fists as your pace slows to a halt when you see that Jake isn’t budging. When he finally takes a step forward, you sigh, trying to summon the hatred you once felt toward him. Unfortunately, all you can muster is despair.

Jake is moving slowly, as though he’s half-expecting you to run, but the truth is, you can’t move a muscle because you’re entranced. It’s ridiculous how attractive he looks with rainwater dripping from his soaking hair. He approaches cautiously, his eyes meeting yours as he presses his lips together solemnly. “I let you down,” he says, his eyebrows converging as he frowns. “And I don’t deserve your forgiveness, I know that. I’m not expecting it.”

You clench your teeth to keep your mouth from trembling as your eyes well up. Finally, the pouring rain exhibits an advantage – masking your falling tears.

“But I need you to know that I am sorry,” he continues, his eyes searching your face. “I’m an idiot for ever letting you go.”

You lower your gaze, blinking through the water – whether it’s tears or rain is irrelevant at this point. Jake’s hands come up and he places them on your arms, so gently that you wouldn’t feel them if you weren’t watching them in action. You let out a shaky sigh as he takes another step forward and, when he presses his lips to the top of your head, you squeeze your eyes shut.

“God, I missed you,” he breathes as his mouth moves to your forehead.

You shake your head, lifting your face to grace him with a reproachful look. You’ve spent an entire year getting over him. Twelve months coping with the pain of losing your best friend. Three hundred and sixty-five days adjusting to his absence. And he has the nerve to tell you that he’s missed you? “Come on, Jake,” you say, not quite able to suppress the hint of malice in your tone. “Doesn’t look like this rain is going to be letting up anytime soon.”

Jake studies your face. “One day, maybe.”

You scoff. “Meanwhile, it’s getting uncomfortable.”

Jake smiles sadly. “I don’t mind it,” he says. “As long as I’m with you.”

You take a step back. “You’re not.”

“I know.”

You let out another frustrated sigh but you can’t seem to hold it together any longer. Dropping your helmet into the puddle at your feet, you break down in tears.

Immediately, Jake closes the gap between the two of you and takes your face in his hands, his eyes flitting between yours urgently despite the wall of rain between you. “Please don’t,” he begs, his face contorted as he tries to hold back tears of his own. “Please.” He rests his forehead over yours.

You push at him and back away. “Then stop!” you yell, your words barely audible over the pouring rain. “Stop making me hurt!”

Jake bows his head, running a hand over his face as his shoulders start to shake. When he glances up at you, his eyes are red and shining. “I can’t stop, Y/N,” he croaks, his voice breaking when he says your name. “I love you.”

You roll your eyes and let out a spiteful laugh but, when Jake steps forward again, cupping his hands around your cheeks, you bite into your bottom lip, falling silent.

“You might not need me anymore,” he says, “but I still need you. And I know that’s selfish, and I know that it’s never gonna happen, but I’m not gonna stand here and pretend to be okay. I’m not okay.”

You watch him solemnly, trying to subdue the trembling of your body. Whether it’s the rain or his words causing you to vibrate uncontrollably is anybody’s guess.

“I’m never getting over you,” he whispers, his lips hovering just over your mouth.

It’s taking all of your strength to hold back a sob; to keep from falling into his arms and letting him shelter you from the rain. Jake has always been an expert at testing your self-control. “We should go,” you mutter. “Before this storm gets any worse.”

Jake sighs over your lips. “It’s just rain, baby,” he whispers. “It’s always gonna pass.”

You close your eyes, feeling yourself submitting to his pull. “It’s getting cold,” you counter.

“I can warm you,” he breathes.

And suddenly, you’re letting out a whimper and grabbing a hold of his flight suit and drawing him impossibly close. At the same time, Jake lifts your face, finally locking his lips with yours. His kiss is so needy, so fevered that it’s making your head spin. His hands leave your face as he wraps his arms around your neck, moving further into you as your fingers clasp behind his back, squeezing him against your body.

You aren’t thinking about the past when his tongue is pushing urgently against your own. You aren’t thinking about the future when your palms travel up his chest, slipping up the wet skin of his neck until your hands are on his face, your fingers stroking the stubble on his jawline. The storm is far from over but perhaps you’ve got what it takes to ride it out.

Jake clutches your waist as he layers your mouth with kiss after kiss. “Oh, baby,” he mutters apologetically. “Baby, I swear I never meant to see you again.”

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[lazydoodlesandfanfic]

A Better Father (Loki X Stark!Son!Reader) *PARENTAL

Characters: Loki X Stark!Son!Reader

Universe: Marvel, Avengers

Warnings: Parental negligence, bad relationship with parent, mention of drugs and underage drinking

Request: could you do a tony x son!reader, in their live, tony was always cold to him (but eventually take him in with pepper) and then Peter Parker show up and take that away, Loki see him in reader (like with odin and how he treat Loki and Thor) and decide to adopt him, teach him magic, reader happy again 😊.

Notes: I wrote this and completely forgot it's meant to be male!reader until it came time to post- I think I've corrected it, but if you spot I've accidentally used the wrong pronouns please let me know so I can fix it. Thanks!

“I’m going out!” You announced, already at the front door, pulling your shoes on and your jacket, before grabbing your bag, hand on the door handle before you got a response. 

“Where to?” Pepper asked, rounding the corner, arms crossed. 

“My friend is doing a school project and wants my help with it.” You excused yourself, being careful not to go into any details. 

“Do you need a ride?” She asked. 

“No, it’s okay, there’s a bus that takes me right outside their apartment. I don’t know how long I’ll be, since we have a lot to do, if it gets late I’ll call you to let you know I’m okay and I’ll stay over, is that okay?” You asked her. Pepper walked a little closer, her expression clearly troubled.

“I’ll have to ask your father…” She commented, and your shoulders slumped, you turning to face her. 

“You know he’s not going to care, Peps. In fact, I’m going to predict what he’s going to say, something along the lines of ‘yeah, yeah, whatever’.” You mimicked, Pepper frowning, knowing you were right. “I appreciate you actually trying to make up for him, I really do. It’s why I go to you instead of him for permission- because you actually care. Please don’t waste your breath. If he actually wants to know what his son is doing, he’ll do it himself.” You pointed out. 

“I know… he should be better, and I want him to be better for you… and I also know you’re lying to me.” She pointed out. You felt your heart drop into your ass, and you sighed. “I told Peter about one of your prior projects with friends, and he looked into it- wanting to see if he could help as well, but then found out that your friend doesn’t even exist.”

“Has he told Tony?” You asked. 

“No. He hasn’t. I made him promise to wait, told him I’d deal with it.” She explained. “Peter also cares about you, even if he doesn’t have much time to actually spend time with you.” She pointed out, and you just nodded. You’d accepted that even though Peter was Tony’s favourite despite not actually being his kid, when Peter got an idea od the dynamic between you and your father, he tried his hardest not to play into it or make it worst, though he often realised after events that he actually had and had not realised it. He always apologised for it, always tried to spend time with you in school, and on more than one occasion, he’d covered for you or even claimed something you did that your dad didn’t like was his idea, knowing Tony wouldn’t punish him and it would stop your relationship with your dad somehow getting worse. You appreciated him, he was like a brother in a way, and at this point, more like family than your dad, like how Pepper was more of a parent than Tony was, despite you not being related either. Same with Happy. Same with… 

“I’m sorry for lying to you. And Peter… I just…” You fumbled. 

“What’s going on, Y/N? Where are you going?” She asked, her voice soft and welcoming, a silent promise that no matter what, she wasn’t going to yell, turn on you, that she actually cares and just wants to be there for you. 

“I’ve been going to meet someone… not romantically or anything!” You told her quickly. “I’m not doing drugs or anything like that either.” 

“That’s good, so you’re being responsible with this person… why have you been hiding this person from us then?” She asked. You thought for a second on how to break the news, and in that time, Pepper started to pry a little more. “Are they… older?” She asked. You nodded. “So not a teenager? Out of school?” She asked, and you nodded again. “How old are they?” She asked, tilting her head. Another hard question, and you bit your lip, and sensing you weren’t confident answering, she changed her question. “What do you two do? It’s not illegal, so what’s so bad you have to hide it?” She asked. 

“He’s… mentoring me.” You told her. 

“Oh, so he’s like a professor? A teacher? What’s he teaching you?” She asked with a smile, seemingly suddenly relieved, getting the idea that you were getting one on one lessons for something you were interested in as a future career, and she was ready to support you from the jump. 

“Magic. He’s teaching me magic.” You admitted, which made Pepper’s eyebrows press together. “And not the cut a woman in half or pull a rabbit out of a hat kind of magic.” You clarified, and she had a moment of realisation. 

“I know two people who know magic. One is Strange, who your father gets along with and so learning from him wouldn’t be a problem, which means… Loki? You’re going to see Loki? He’s teaching you magic?” She asked, and you nodded. 

“Please don’t tell Tony! I promise, Loki’s been nothing but kind to me! When we’re not doing magic, we just read books together- or go on walks or stuff!” You explained. 

“What kind of magic?” She demanded. 

“How to teleport, how to create an illusion, today he’s teaching me a spell that translates both written and spoken languages!” You explained to her. “He said for a treat for my birthday he’s going to teach me a spell that lets me understand animals because apparently what they say is really funny and cute and he thinks I’ll like it.” You explained to her. She clearly wasn’t convinced, and you sighed. “We do other stuff to.” You told her. 

“Like what?” She asked. 

“You know when Tony’s in a bad mood or I do something he doesn’t like and we get into an argument and I go for a walk to cool off and don’t come back for hours? Loki walks with me. He makes sure I don’t do anything stupid… I feel so safe with him, that I feel comfortable and safe enough to actually cry.” You admitted. You watched Pepper’s concerned expression fall. You never cried- at least not at home. Not at school either, according to Peter. You didn’t cry in front of her, or Peter, or Happy, and sure as hell never in front of Tony, no matter what he said or did. “And he knows what I need when I cry. He hugs me, he just lets me cry, he doesn’t shush me or try to make me stop. If anything bad happens, I go to him first. Like when I went to that party last month and got wasted and realised I didn’t know how to get home- you and dad thought I left with a stranger and stayed with someone who I didn’t know and then came home when sober- instead I called Loki and he looked after me during the night, he rubbed my back when I threw up, hugged me and promised it was gonna be okay when I was crying, he made this really nice tea which instantly made my hangover go away, and promised if this ever happened again he’d do it all over again, and then he took me home when I felt well enough.” You admitted to her. 

“Where do you two hang out, usually?” She asked. 

“He has a little apartment, there’s probably a hefty amount of magic to make it so the other tenants can’t notice the door to it since it defies the floor plan of the entire building, but it’s so cozy, and warm and I have my own bedroom there- which is where I go whenever I have any ‘sleepovers’, though I do make him watch movies, especially bad ones.” You laughed. It felt so good to finally be able to talk about this- about everything you and Loki did, because time with Loki was your happy time. 

“Okay… I have two questions.” She said, and you nodded, gulping. “Why…Loki? If you wanted to learn magic, why not go to Strange, and why is Loki so willing and…” She didn’t say the word, but you knew what she wanted to say. Fatherly. 

“Because when he looks at me, he sees himself.” You admitted. “He told me himself… Loki didn’t have a good relationship either with his father. Thor's the golden child, Loki was the one pushed to the back, forgotten. He knows how it feels to be unwanted, to not be thought of by the person who is supposed to love you. He knows how it feels to want to be loved and no matter how hard you try, not getting it, because in your dad’s eyes, you’re not worth it. He sees me, and he sees his own childhood, and he hates that, so… he decided to do something about it.” You explained to her. “Loki… Loki’s like a dad to me. He certainly acts more like one than Tony.” You pointed out. Pepper looked devastated, but understood. “What was your other question?”

“Inevitably, Tony’s going to find out about this. I won’t tell him, I’ll feign ignorance, but Peter’s going to find out somehow, and you know that even if he wants to protect you, that boy can’t keep a secret to save his life, especially from Tony.” She pointed out. “What’s your game plan for when he finds out?” She asked. 

“I’ve already got that figured out.” You reassured her. “Loki set up the bedroom for me for the worst case scenario… I graduate next year. I’ll graduate, start going to college, and I’m going to move out and live with Loki- he might move his apartment to be closer to whatever college I want to go to. If he doesn’t know by then, I’ll tell him I just have a roommate and we know he’s not going to come and visit, and after college, I’ll just slowly drop contact, keep my distance, away from him, happy, learning magic, living my own life. I’ll come visit you and Peter and Happy, regular phone calls, if you need me, call me and I’ll be there… and if Tony finds out before then? I’ll go anyway. I’ll be okay, no matter what. Loki has my back.”

“...And so do I.” She added. You two stared at each other. You weren’t sure what she was thinking, what exactly she was going to do. Ban you from seeing Loki? Tell your father? Treat you like a criminal and monster even if you’ve done nothing wrong? Be locked away? Somehow become even more of an outcast? Lose the few people you actually consider family? Lose Loki? “I won’t keep you waiting. Keep me updated on what you’re doing, if you want to stay the night let me know, okay? I’ll tell Peter something that is easier to swallow and then we’ll tell him the full truth after you graduate. I’ll explain to Happy, maybe he can also help you… please just… don’t do anything stupid. Behave. No more secrets from me, okay?” She asked. 

“Okay. Thank you.” You told her, nodding with a grin. “I love you, I’ll see you tomorrow!” You told her, finally opening the door and dashing out. Pepper sighed, wondering what she was going to tell Peter to help keep in calm and not accidentally tell Tony, how she was going to get Happy to go along with this, how she’s going to look Tony in the eyes and feign ignorance, lie to his face about where his son is and who he's with. But then she remembered every time she could recall when she would come to Tony’s place and find you home alone when you were a young child, thinking it was normal, how you used to try to get his attention and him brush you off or even yell at you to go away and then slowly stop trying and instead go to her and Happy who actually cared. She remembered how utterly overjoyed you were when your dad actually came to your birthday after he was kidnapped, seeming to realise how precious life was and wanted to make up for lost time, and things were going well until Peter came into the picture, and he lost his way, his sole focus being Peter, you once again forgotten and neglected. Except this time you weren’t upset, just disappointed. You gave up on him, and instead adjusted, adapted, and found a new family. Pepper was your new mother, Peter was your brother, Happy your uncle, and Loki was your new, and much better father. You were making up for lost time with someone who actually cared and wanted you as a son. If Tony had a problem about it, he should have done something about it a long, long time ago.

You arrived at the apartment complex not long after leaving, heading up to the top floor, going to the door at the end of the hallway and letting yourself in. Loki peeked up from the book he was reading and smiled. “There you are, had me worried.” He joked. You sighed as you kicked your shoes off, dumping your bag on the floor and hanging up your coat. Your lack of an immediate response was weird for Loki, and he placed the book down, standing from the settee, and stepping closer to you. “What happened?” He asked softly, locking his hands behind himself. You turned to look at him finally. 

“Is it that obvious?” You asked, and he smiled sadly. “...Pepper knows. She’s covering for me, so I guess she’s okay with it, it’s just… what if Tony finds out and massively blows everything out of proportion?” You explained to him. 

“Well…” Loki crossed his arms, thinking. “Knowing you, your first thought is to run and start afresh.” He pointed out, and you nodded. “Or… I could talk to Thor. You and Pepper and him talk to the others, explain everything, we lay everything out, and then we tell your father. No secrets and being honest might work more in our favor than just upping and leaving, Y/N.” He pointed out. You squinted at him with suspicion. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be the God of Mischief and Lies?” You asked, making him crack a smile.

“I may be, but it means I also know when’s a good time to actually tell the truth, and I think this might be the time. Pepper knows, she has your back, Thor is, as you describe it, a loyal labrador and will be happy I’m behaving, those two alone can be the brains and the brawl to help keep the situation under control.” He reassured you. 

“Okay, if you think so… but can we do that tomorrow? I want to learn that spell so I can finally read your Asguardian books.” You begged, making him chuckle. 

“Of course we can, go make some tea, then we’ll start.”

Hope you like it! If you have any questions, please send them in!

*Not my gif

TAGS: @klanceiscannon14 @marvelhoeingismyhobby-blog @bellamyblakemorley @dummiesshort  @freyathehuntress @abbybills22-blogg @mutantjediavenger @theoraekensnotsosecretlover @alicedanganh @sleutherclaw @sleepy-coffee-bean @stawwpp @rebellionofthecattle @hello-love-youre-pretty @werosemagic@courtneychicken  @graysonmalfoy @bellero @originalpottervengerlock @supernatural-pan @esoltis280 @lady-of-liess @lenaswritingandstuff @macbetheliza @mandywholock1980 @cdwmtjb8 @caswinchester2000 @determinedpines @huntheimpossible @automaticbakeryfreakshoe

[buckysgrace]

The Do Over

Closer to My Heart Masterlist (one chapter to go!)

Single Dad!Billy Hargrove x Fem!Reader

Billy invites you to meet someone, meanwhile you feel your relationship changing.

Theo was having a rough day.

He had spent most of the morning with his head down, his face resting pitifully between his tiny palms and his eyes forced down on his desk as he refused to join circle time with each session. He only seeped deeper into his blanket of sadness. 

Coloring pages had been passed out, but he remained in his same position. His blue eyes glazed over, filled with little tears before he quickly wiped at them again. Your heart hurt as you slowly approached him, squatting down so you could get a better look at him before he quickly turned away.  

“Theo,” You questioned gently as you were tucking his soft curls behind his ears, “What’s wrong? My giggle box hasn’t even smiled today.” You told him teasingly, recalling how he was usually one of your louder laughers. 

“Noting.” He sniffled, slowly accepting one of your tissues before he held his head down once again. He had been asleep when Billy dropped him off this morning, perhaps he was upset about not seeing his father leave. 

“Are you sure?” You pried gently, not liking to leave your students so upset. He gave a bitter nod before he inhaled deeply, his bottom lip quivering as he pulled his tiny fingers into a fist. 

“Mhm.” He mumbled, sniffling as he wiped at his eyes with the tissue you’d given him. His little hands shook, his nose scrunching up as he tried to keep from crying. It hurt you a little bit, watching him resist so harshly. 

“Because we can talk alone if you need to,” You offered gently, “My ears are always open.” You reminded him, brushing your fingers through his hair once again. He turned towards you, features wrinkled in despair. 

“I miss my mommy.” He said at last, his voice breaking as the tears fell forth. He cried as he covered his face, his bottom lip wobbling as he continued to messily wipe at his face. 

“Oh,” You stalled, completely lost on how to approach this subject. This was the first time you had ever heard Theo bring her up before, “I’m sorry. It’s tough to miss someone that you can’t see.” You nodded your head in agreement, bringing another tissue up to wipe at his face

“Mhm.” He pouted as you pulled him into your arms, giving him a little squeeze. His head fell to your shoulder as he trembled, holding onto you tightly as he let his sorrows out. You held him just as tightly, waiting until he was done before you pulled away. 

“How about you help me pass these papers out?” You questioned him, watching the way he held his fingers out a second later, “Thank you.” You smiled, watching as he slowly went around the room with the papers. You inhaled deeply, trying to figure out if this was something you should call Billy about. You decided against it a second later, not wanting to disrupt his day again. Perhaps everything would be fine after this event. 

Theo stayed by your side the rest of the day, content on taking over your helper role. He crawled onto your lap whenever he could, which you allowed for the time being. He needed some sort of comfort, you wouldn’t push him away. 

And you weren’t really showing favoritism. You held all of your students in a similar way when they were upset, but Theo was perhaps just a smidge different now. Billy was special to you, so that meant Theo had to be as well. 

“What do you think you and your dad will do tonight?” You asked him once everything was packed up and you were both waiting at the front door. He had crawled onto your lap as soon as you had sat down, shoving his thumb into his mouth. He wasn’t supposed to do it, but you didn’t feel right correcting it either. 

“I no know.” He sighed as he dropped his head to your shoulder again, closing his eyes as he held onto you. You rested your chin on the top of his head, wishing you had some better encouragements for him. 

“It’s the weekend,” You replied gently as you rocked him back and forth, “I bet you’ll go to the park again.” You set up the scenario, peeking down at him to see if you could get a reaction from him. 

“I wanna swim.” He mumbled softly, pulling his thumb free from his mouth as he looked at you seriously. You smiled in agreement. 

“That sounds fun too.” You told him seriously, rubbing his back as you tried to get some sort of smile from him. 

The sound of the front door opening rattled you both, startling you as Theo hopped from your lap with incredible speed. Billy barely had his foot through the door met he looked towards him in surprise. 

“Daddy!” He cried instantly, holding his arms up over his head as he sprinted towards Billy. He was fully crying again, sobbing like he used to do on the first few days of daycare when Billy would drop him off or pick him up.

Billy’s sunglasses nearly toppled off of his head with the quick way he lifted Theo up into his arms. He looked over at you curiously, to which you only shrugged in response. You didn’t know what to say to him. 

“Rough day?” He mumbled as he rocked Theo back and forth, cradling his hand over the back of his head. He gave the side of his head a soft kiss. You stood, slowly making your way towards them. 

“He spoke about missing his mom,” You whispered softly, unsure if it would make Theo more upset, “He’s just been sad all day.” You mumbled as you rubbed your arm.

Billy looked at you surprised, like he wasn’t expecting that answer. You hadn’t been either. You hadn’t known Theo to ever bring her up before. You were just as clueless. 

“Maybe tonight isn’t the best time,” He sighed as he looked down at Theo, referencing the date you had planned, “I’m sorry.” He apologized, but you weren’t offended at all. His son definitely needed him more at the moment. 

“I’m off tomorrow,” You said slowly, “Maybe we can do something then.” You gave his arm a soft squeeze, feeling a little reassured to do so. 

“We were going to visit Annie’s resting place tomorrow,” He said softly, making you nod along as you realized why he was probably so upset, “Theo was asking yesterday.” He gave the toddler a little bounce, only to earn a whine in response. 

“Right,” You nodded your head softly, “I’m sorry about your loss. It must be hard.” You watched the way he gave Theo a soft kiss on the top of his head again, his blue eyes filled with considerations. 

“Sometimes,” He paused for a moment, “I want you to go with us.” He stated as he drew his eyes up towards yours, leaving you stunned for a moment. You opened your mouth then shut it again, trying to process what he had said. 

“What?” You shook your head, sure that you were hearing things as you blinked in confusion. You weren’t sure if that was necessarily appropriate, but there wasn’t a rule book on how to do it either. You weren’t even sure if you were really official with Billy. 

“Come with us,” He said again, “I want you to meet her.” His lips curled into a soft smile, but his eyes were insistent. Like it was really important to him. 

“Okay,” You replied, a little unsure about the situation, “Is that appropriate?” You asked him seriously, worried that you may end up offending her. Or anyone else. You didn’t want to seem like you were pushing yourself into their lives. Especially if Theo wasn’t ready for that. 

“I don’t see why not,” He shrugged his shoulders softly, “It would make me feel better about everything. I think she would’ve liked you if she had gotten the chance to know you.”

“I see,” You nodded your head slowly, still uncertain but willingly to do it for him, “Of course, I’ll go.”

“Hi,” Theo said brightly the next morning, eyes twinkling as his better mood radiated in the car, “I’m seeing my mommy!” He told you as he kicked his little shoes together, lips pulled into a wide smile. Billy pulled his hands away from your hips, apparently satisfied that you could climb into the car on your own. 

“I heard,” You replied as you buckled up, then turned to face him with an eager smile, “Are you excited?” You questioned, glancing over as Billy entered into the driver’s seat once again. Your eyes drifted for just a moment, drawn in by the way the majority of his shirt was unbuttoned and showing off his golden skin. 

“Mhm.” Theo hummed along as he chewed on the rest of his banana, looking content as you turned around once again. At least he was content. You were glad Billy had found some way to make him happy. 

“Thanks for joining us.” Billy spoke up this time, glancing towards you as he rested his sunglasses back over his nose. He took off, a little faster than you were used to but you didn’t complain. And Theo seemed to enjoy it by his little giggles that he spit out from his carseat. 

“Of course,” You nodded as you held your palms over your knees, “Thank you for inviting me.” You told him, pretending like you hadn’t spent half the night up thinking about this whole situation. You decided that as a support role it was fine. But you were definitely overthinking things once again. 

“You’re not uncomfortable, are you?” He cocked an eyebrow as he glanced at you, like he already knew. It was intriguing to you that he seemed so good at reading people, yet you couldn’t get anything from him. His thoughts were buried away and locked up tightly. 

“I’m a little nervous,” You admitted, “I don’t know why.” You shrugged your shoulders softly as you stopped playing with your hands, knowing it was a silly thing to be worried about. Billy wanted you there. Even Theo seemed to want you to come. 

“It’s just Annie,” He replied seriously, “She had that effect.” He laughed to himself, even though you felt your eyes growing several sizes too big. You really hoped this wouldn’t be disrespectful to her. 

The cemetery wasn’t a long drive away and the car ride had been filled with Theo belting out the lyrics to every song on the radio. Even if he didn’t know them, he made up his own. He was even cuter outside of your classroom. 

Billy had gotten out of the car first, leaving you with no time to process arriving before he held the door open for him. A quiet thanks had left your lips as you looked around. It was peaceful out, the sun was high in the air and the grass was a healthy green. Maybe that was a good sign.

Theo celebrated his freedom by stretching out his little limps, then wiggling in between you and Billy so he could grasp your hand and Billy’s at the same time. He babbled off about what he was going to do later, apparently hungry as he continually brought up fish sticks. 

“What should I do?” You asked seriously, coming towards a halt as Theo sat himself down in front of a headstone. You were being cautious, trying to be as respectful as you could possibly be.

“It’s not like she’s going to get offended,” He chuckled, “Well, maybe.” He said teasingly as he glanced towards the sky, squinting his eyes playfully like he was searching through the clouds. You gulped.

“That’s not funny.” You replied as you shook your head, not wanting to be rude to Annie in any possible way. Even though she was dead.

“Trust me, she would’ve thought it was hilarious.” He chuckled as he rubbed the back of his neck, his eyes glistening like the ocean as he turned towards you.

“I’m nervous.” You replied as you pulled your lips into a tight smile, feeling like you were intruding despite being invited.

“I share a story or two with Theo, only the good ones,” He added quickly, smiling knowingly, “Then some pictures. He wanted to bring a drawing that he created. I let him do his own thing, you know? I don’t think he understands fully.”

“He’s little.” You said in agreement, watching as Theo traced his tiny fingers across her engraved name. It made your heart hurt a little bit, wishing he could touch his mother’s warm skin instead of a cold stone.

“Too little,” He nodded his head softly, “I wish I had more answers for him.” He shrugged his shoulders, looking like he had gone through many different ideas and thoughts. At least he wasn’t pretending like she didn’t exist.

“I think you’re doing just fine.” You told him seriously, knowing that Theo would appreciate this even if Billy couldn’t see that.

“This my mama,” Theo smiled as he tilted his head, standing near the headstone this time, “We got flowers!” He shouted quickly, eyes wide as he pulled his bag open hurriedly to pull some daisies free. “They’re very pretty,” You told him honestly, “Did you pick them out?” You questioned, straightening out the makeshift bouquet.

“Mhm,” He nodded his head along, “Me and daddy.” He grinned proudly, making you hum in appreciation.

“I bet she’s very happy with them,” You replied as he twisted the flowers between his fingers, “She’s very lucky.” 

“Daddy,” Theo turned his head towards Billy, squinting his eyes as the sun danced onto his skin, “You have the pictuwe?”

“Of course,” He smiled as he passed it off to him once Theo had sat down and crossed his little legs, “He likes that one.” He held it out towards you, pressing it into your fingers gently. 

Annie was pretty. Really pretty. Dark hair and eyes, tanned skin and full lips. Theo was tiny, itty bitty in her arms as she stared down at him. There were tired lines around her eyebrows, a pained expression on her face. But in her eyes there was only love. Full adoration that you figured only came from fighting to bring something so precious into the world. 

“This is a beautiful picture,” You whispered softly, glimpsing at Theo’s full head of hair and the loud cry that was frozen on his lips, “I think she’d be happy with how you’ve raised him.”

“Right,” Billy snorted, smiling before he handed the picture off to Theo, “Here you go, bub.” 

“Tanks.” He smiled gently as he sat back in front of the headstone. He whispered this time along, like he was telling her secrets.

“Are there any more pictures of them?” You asked curiously, wondering when her time of death had aligned. You had always heard it had been right away, but perhaps there had been time between her and Theo. Precious moments.

“No.” He stated as he pulled a cigarette free, taking a moment to light it up. He tilted his head, keeping a close eye on Theo.

“I’m sorry.” You told him honestly, glancing back at the toddler who was proudly showing off his drawing now. You wondered if it would always be like this.

“It’s not your fault,” He replied as he shook his head, “She always thought things happened for a reason.” He shrugged his shoulders and blew a cloud of smoke out towards you playfully.

“Sucky reasons.” You agreed with him, truly wondering if Annie would’ve liked you or not. Hopefully enough that she didn’t feel as if you were stealing her place.

“Yeah,” He sighed as he took another long drag, “But I can’t change anything about that.” No one could, you just hoped that Theo would be fine with that.

You both continued to watch Theo for a few minutes, listening to him babble excitedly towards the tombstone. He finished by leaning forward and giving the tombstone a soft kiss, looking content before he stood and ran back towards Billy. 

“We’re having a fancy lunch today,” Billy started, grinning as he helped you into the passenger seat again, “Fish sticks and french fries.” He proclaimed, glancing back at where Theo had been buckled in. 

“Yummy!” He cheered from the backseat, eyes bright as he clapped his hands together. He tilted his head back and forth, giggling loudly before he began to make car sounds once again. 

“Sounds delicious,” You smiled, looking back towards Theo, “Can I join?” You asked kindly, grinning at the way he scoffed. Definitely his fathers son.

“Yeah, siwwy!” He smiled as he played with one of the trucks on his lap, distracting himself as the music blared to life.

“How about you stay over?” Billy suggested as he turned towards you, slowly sliding his sunglasses over his nose. You exhaled roughly.

“The night?” You asked, rubbing your ears as if you had heard him wrong. Did he trust you that much? Perhaps it wasn’t necessarily taking any big steps forward. But maybe it was. You sort of hoped that it was. 

“Somethin’ wrong with that?” He asked you as he pulled out of the parking lot, making you shake your head. You just wanted to be sure that you were both on the same page before you gave your heart out to him. 

“No,” You replied quickly, “I just don’t have spare clothes.” You grinned as you motioned towards your outfit, making him chuckle underneath his breath. It was nice. Really nice. You felt like you were in a good place for the first time in a long time.

“We can get you some.” He promised as he reached across, his large palm resting against your bare skin. You breathed in deeply, trying to ignore the sparks that spread through your body. 

“Alright,” You answered gently, feeling your heart flutter roughly inside of your chest, “Sounds like a date.” 

Tags: @cassandracorvo @marshmallowgem @shes-an-odd-bird @stormy-stardust @highwaywildflower @amberpanda99 @sssstarstruck @zoexme @missingbillyhargrove @let-love-bleeds-red @empath-bunny

[shinyac0re]

━━ 𝑺𝑯𝑨𝑻𝑻𝑬𝑹𝑬𝑫 𝑯𝑬𝑨𝑹𝑻 ¡! 𝐠𝐨𝐣𝐨 𝐬𝐚𝐭𝐨𝐫𝐮 𝐱 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫 ━━━

( note: pls remember englisch is not my first language and there may be some grammar mistakes !)

★ angst, fighting, bad language, based on my smau „ Them still being in love w their ex !¡ “

Your heart was beating fast, too fast. You thought it was going to leap out of your chest and fall to the floor just right before your feet. Your body didn't move at all, as if it was no longer under your control. As if someone had pressed the pause button.

Your eyes starting slowly to burn and form crystal clear tears. One or two tears even made their way down your cheeks. Leaving a trace of smudged mascara with them.

Your heart broke into probably a million pieces. And you knew no glue in the whole world could stick them back together. Not even Satoru, who would always make sure to take care of your heart and put a bandage around it if it was hurt, could put the pieces together this time. Because he is the reason your heart broke in first place.

Your hand trembled. But not just your hand. Most likley your whole body. Still holding the thin piece of paper which caused your world to breake.

You never knew why everybody around you would glaze at you with that guilty eyes. But now you know. Because everybody knew and no one told you about it.

They knew the way Satoru would look at her. As if she’s the brightest star in the dark blue night sky. Just as if they were meant to be.

You would rather put the letter there where it was hidden, instead of talking with Satoru about it. You wanted to pretend not knowing about it.

But now it’s too late. Your tears already dropped onto the thin paper sheet. Causing the ink to smudge or completely disappear. You couldn’t turn back, no matter how much you wanted to.

Your carefully let your eyes wander all over the letter again. Only being able to see half of it since your view was blurred thanks to the tears. But maybe it was better this way, otherwise it would’ve just hurt to much.

„…please contact me again…“

„… sometimes late at night I still sit at our fav spot…“

„… I hope we meet again. But this time, the right time…“

„… I never wanted to lose you…“

„… I still think about you when I smell your perfume in public places because someone is wearing the same one as you…“

„ …In love, your Satoru…“

It was clearly his handwriting. You just knew it to well. The way he‘d put a little wing at the end of his name has betrayed him.

How could you be this blind?

Not being able to see that the person you love, loving someone else. You now knew Satoru would never love you as much as he loves her.

You suddenly hear the door shut. Which must’ve caused your body to be under your control again. » Baby? You home?« You hear his voice. Not answering you stand still at the place you found the letter. Y’alls bedroom.

» Hello? darling?« you hear his footsteps coming closer. With every step closer, you’re getting more nervous and anxious about what is to happen. You would love to run out of this situation. But your legs won’t move.

The door opens and it feels like it’s happening in milliseconds.

You see his white hair, the light pink lips, his sharp jawline and the cheeky grin he‘d always wear on his face in the corner of your eye.

» Hey why didn’t you answer?« he asks. He straight goes to his closet. He hasn’t seen yet that your standing there silently crying. Gripping that letter to find some hold, even tho it feels like the paper is burning into your skin. Just like the words Satoru wrote on it are burnt into your brain.

» Love is everything alright?« he comes near to you, trying to look at your face. But you can’t stop looking at the wall. His eyes slowly move to your Hand. The letter almost completely crumbled because of how thight your grip is.

» May I ask what your holding onto like your life depends on it.« he laugh’s. Not knowing he got caught.

Not knowing that Y/n is crying, because he can’t see her face. Her hair also hiding it like its a curtain and Y/n tries to hide behind it.

But suddenly your curtains moves. Revealing your red eyes and crying face. You can’t overhear how Satoru suddenly sucks in air as if it were his last breath.

» Hey love, what’s wrong?« he looks at you all worried. But the fact that this is all fake won’t leave your head. How should that even be possible.

You still stay quiet. Swallowing down all the words laying on your tongue. You can’t find the perfect words. Maybe because they don’t exist.

» Hey, you know you can talk with me right? I‘m not a stranger, we‘ve been together for over a year know.«

…“we‘ve been together for over a year know.“ those words replay in your head for a continuous loop. For over a year he‘s pretending to love you, when he was still in love with her. Telling you everyday, he loves you more than anything, knowing it was a lie.

Finally your able to move. You just show him the letter. Holding it directly into his face.

He needs some time to realize what your‘re holding in you’re Hand. And when he does, his ice blue eyes widen in disbelief. His mouth open without saying anything.

And now the anger takes over Y/n. » We‘re done.« is all you say before going to the closet they both share to get some of your stuff. Satoru just watching you unable to do anything because of the shook.

» Y/n wait! Please let me explain!« you stay quite. Shaking your head as an answer. » Please Y/n I‘ll explain it to you! You know- the letter is really old!«

You close your eyes. Trying to hold back tears. You won’t allow them to stream down your face. This is ridiculous. Is all you could think about. » Satoru, it’s over. Should I spell it for you?« you ask him with a tone of anger and disbelief.

His eyes are filled with tear’s. You laugh a bit because of that. He never really loved you, at least not as much es he loves her. But he still as tear’s in his eyes. » I can’t believe you did this.« you mumble to yourself while packing some of your clothes into a bag.

As you’re finished, you’re about to leave. » Satoru move.« you say and watch him not moving. He’s staying in the doorframe. » Y/n please, we can talk about. You know, like always when something bad happens.«

Your heart cracks a little more. Your sure you could hear it loud and clear in your ear. And if Satoru listened closely he could’ve heard it to. His words brought memories back to your mind.

How the two of you sat at a park bank together. The night sky filled with stars. He handed you his jacket as soon as he saw you were freezing. You talked about how scared you are because of his job. Because what if he wouldn’t come back one day.

This was your biggest fear. Getting a call from nanami. Telling you Gojo didn’t made it. He would never entered your house again or come to your bedroom to cuddle you. You were scared he wouldn’t comeback just for you to leave him now.

You take a deep breath. » No, there is nothing to talk about. You love her. Why would you want me to be in a one-sided relationship?—« you arch your eyebrow. »— You have two days to pack all of your shit, then I never want to see you again.«

This were your last words to him. Letting him stand there in silence while leaving him forever.

━━━━━━━━ ★ ━━━━━━━━━

| likes n reblogs r appreciated ! request always open !

[lovelyhan]

— inflection point ⟢

pairing: jeonghan x reader x seungcheol

summary: things make a turn for the worse (or the better?) when jeonghan leaves you with the most insufferable person on earth. but maybe a few weeks alone is exactly what you and seungcheol needed after all.

word count: 8.3k words

tags: unresolved emotional tension, established relationship, angst, smut

warnings: implied alcohol consumption, graphic sexual content (minors dni!!)

notes: here's part two! this is mostly cheol and mc unknowingly picking up the pieces from their past breakup while jeonghan is away. nothing like getting to know someone you used to love all over again, right?

additional notes: the first part has been flagged so it's virtually invisible now :| you can go visit it in my masterlist if it still hasn't showed up in the tags!

part one - part two - part three | masterlist

To say that you’re nervous is a terrible understatement.

Today is the day you’re supposed to meet Jeonghan’s boyfriend, who’s technically your boyfriend as well, now that you’ve agreed to this odd arrangement. You fidget with your phone beneath the table when Jeonghan excuses himself to fetch him from the restaurant’s entrance. 

It should be fine, right? Your boss already took you to dinner before, and he has a knack for setting an atmosphere comfortable for everyone in attendance. Jeonghan just has this charismatic air to him that makes him easy to be with. A mediator of sorts. 

He reassured you before you both left the office today that his lover is the most accommodating person you’d ever meet. Though, Jeonghan hasn’t really mentioned his name at all—saying he wanted his boyfriend to tell it to you himself. 

So there you are, not-so patiently waiting for them to return to your table. 

When Jeonghan finally comes back with another person in tow, you perk up with curiosity, running over all the introductions you practiced in your head.

Hi, it’s nice to meet you! Thanks for letting me exclusively join your relationship!

Fuck. That already sounds so bad in your head, what more if you say the words—

“Here he is,” Jeonghan says, while pulling out the vacant seat on your table, smiling fondly at his lover. “I really do hope you get along.”

Five minutes ago, you hoped that, too.

Except when you finally see the face of the other man you’re supposed to be in a relationship with, your heart nearly drops into your stomach. 

“Hi,” Choi Seungcheol says with that stupid dimpled smile of his. “I’m Seungcheol. It’s nice to meet you.”

What’s the protocol for when you unexpectedly land yourself into a relationship with the same person you spent literal years getting over? You have no idea. What you do know is that, from the hopeful smile that Jeonghan flashes at the both of you, and the obviously practiced grin plastered on Seungcheol’s face, the former isn’t privy to your relationship with the latter.

Erm. Past relationship.

You take a deep breath through your nose—forcing down all those years of heartbreak and longing and loneliness—and give him a smile of your own.

“It’s nice to meet you, too,” you say, and if either of them notice how your voice cracked, they don’t say anything about it.

“Let’s take care of each other, yeah?”

…

“So what you meant to say is,” Jihoon starts, and it takes every ounce of willpower to keep holding his accusatory stare, “the guy who dumped you after taking your virginity, the legendary shitty ex, is the same guy you’re dating with Jeonghan now?”

“Say sike. Like, right now,” Soonyoung scowls once Jihoon lays out his deduction, but you can’t really take the guy seriously with his cheeks stuffed with popcorn.

“I would if I could, and you know it, Soonie.” 

In your defense, you didn’t mean to come clean about Seungcheol’s identity to them during game night at their apartment. But one of the reasons why you begged them to hold your monthly hang-outs here is that Jeonghan is leaving for Busan tomorrow morning, and you’re a little over your head with the fact that you’re spending two weeks alone with Seungcheol.

Sure, he’s become marginally less of an asshole after upgrading the furniture in their bedroom to cater to you specifically, but you’re not about to let your guard down. God knows when Seungcheol will switch back to being the prissy jerk that’s been tormenting you for the past two months. Especially with Jeonghan out of the picture, your sanity is free fucking real estate.

“Okay, let’s skip the part where we talk about how weird that is, and what a small goddamn world we live in.” Thank the heavens for Jihoon, really. Always the logical one. “But why didn’t you tell us your ex-boyfriend is a star football player. What the fuck?”

…Or not.

“Really? After everything I just told you, you’re choosing to focus on that ?” You shoot him a grimace before dipping your hand in the popcorn bowl for a quick bite. “For the record, I haven’t heard anything about Seungcheol until he walked into that restaurant and introduced himself as Jeonghan’s boyfriend. I only found out that he was a big shot athlete a week after we started dating, too!”

“Isn’t that a good thing, though?” Soonyoung wonders before kicking his feet up on the coffee table. “Never mind the fact that he’s the same guy that took you ten years to get over, but you’re dating two filthy rich, and ridiculously hot men now! What more could you ask for?”

You groan, burying your face in your palms. “Did you two seriously not listen to a single word I said? Jeonghan has no idea that we’re exes, and we have to act like we don’t hate each other whenever he’s around!”

Jihoon raises an eyebrow. “But didn’t you say Seungcheol explicitly told you last night that he doesn’t hate you?”

“Oh, so you were listening after all.” You huff.

“We listened to the whole thing, you know.” Soonyoung pouts. “But honestly, all I heard was ‘I’m an idiot who can’t swallow her pride, so I’ll just act like I despise him because it’s easier than having to admit that I’m still in love with him.’” 

Jihoon practically cackles as he leans across the couch to give Soonyoung a high five—like the bestest fucking friends in the universe. You shoot both of them a chilling glare with your tail between your legs, not liking how they dissected your dilemma in under five minutes.

“Okay, okay. We’re sorry,” Jihoon placates, offering you some more popcorn as a peace offering. “It’s just that you’re probably making this whole thing more complicated than it actually is. I mean, yeah, he was kind of a dick for ditching you like that, but weren’t you also a dick for deciding that you could only choose one or the other? Seungcheol or Seoul?”

“Yeah, haven’t you heard of long distance relationships?” Soonyoung wonders before snapping his fingers like an idea just occurred to him. “Actually, maybe you didn’t have to keep up the LDR for long? He ended up living in Seoul just like you did, right?”

Once they’ve laid those ideas on the table, Jihoon and Soonyoung both cast you another round of disbelieving stares—making you want to crawl under their couch and just rot with the dust bunnies. 

“Fine! I was a bit too hasty back then, I admit that!” You chew on your bottom lip, unable to come up with anything in your defense. “But, but…”

Soonyoung rises from his seat with a long sigh, walking over to your spot to engulf you in a tight hug. You resist his affection for a few seconds, not wanting to give in too easily, but you end up caving into his touch either way.

“Hey, you fucked up, and that’s okay,” he murmurs as he smooths down your hair. “But don’t you think it’s unfair for Seungcheol if you keep acting like he’s the only one who messed up? It’s just like Jihoon told me once: relationships are a two-way street. Well, a three-way street in your case, but that's not the point.”

You sniffle, surprised at the tears that are pooling along your lashes. “But he always acts so hostile. It didn’t make sense to me when he said he didn’t hate me because whenever Jeonghan isn’t around, it’s obvious that he still hasn’t forgiven me…”

“What if he’s just giving you back the same energy you gave to him?” Jihoon hypothesizes. “Be honest, who fired the first shot?” 

“...Right after we had dinner at that restaurant, I kind of told him I’m only doing this for Jeonghan. Might not have been too nice about the delivery either.”

Again, your two best friends share a look—like they don’t know what to do with you anymore. 

That makes three of you then.

“Okay, from what you’ve told us, I can say for sure that Seungcheol probably wants to fix things with you,” Jihoon offers with a reassuring smile. “One hundred percent. The only thing that’s stopping him is…well, you.”

Soonyoung nods. “He can’t make things right if you don’t let him, silly.”

“It’s actually better that Jeonghan is going away for a while ‘cause the two of you can have some time to sort everything out.” You’re about to sharply ask how in the world that makes things better, but Jihoon puts up a hand to shut you up. “If Jeonghan is there, you two will be too busy trying to butter him up with lies to actually sit down and hold a proper conversation.”

“Just…just try to hear out what the guy has to say, yeah?” Soonyoung suggests while squeezing you in his arms again. “While you’re at it, you can explain to him that you were young and hasty and overly-emotional—”

“Hey!”

“—and let’s see where we can go from there.”

Silence fills the room as your best friends stare at you with equally expectant looks—hoping that you wouldn’t fuck this up now that a rare second chance has been granted. You sigh as your gaze lingers on the forgotten UNO cards on the coffee table. 

Still, maybe going to them for advice might’ve been the best decision you’ve made so far.

“Okay, I’ll try,” you grumble as you push Soonyoung away. “No promises that I’ll do it without any blunders though…”

“And that’s more than enough for us,” Soonyoung says cheerily before picking the cards back up. “Now let’s team up and destroy Jihoon this round, yeah?”

...

You absolutely despise having to get up and out of bed earlier than the time your alarm goes off. But when the day of Jeonghan’s business trip finally comes, you find it easy to prepare for work despite the fact that it’s only four in the morning, and you don’t have to time in for another four hours. 

Jeonghan texts you that they’re right outside your apartment, and it only takes one glance at your window to confirm the presence of Seungcheol’s car idling by the curb. After going over all the things you’re set to bring to their house, you text him back, saying that you’ll be down in three minutes.

“Morning, sweetheart,” Jeonghan greets from the passenger seat with a relaxed smile. “You really didn’t have to come. I know how much you hate getting up early.”

“I’d hate it even more if I didn’t get to kiss you goodbye, though,” you chuckle as Seungcheol takes your travel bag and helps put it inside the trunk. 

The moment he pulls it shut, you blurt out:

“Good morning, Seungcheol.”

He looks so surprised, you wonder if what you said was remotely offensive. But after reminding yourself of how you’ve treated each other for the past two months, you suppose the reaction is completely warranted.

Baby steps, you muse. You’ll both make things right one day. For Jeonghan and for yourselves.

“Good morning,” he grumbles, and for some reason, his words send a fluttering sensation blooming across your chest.

Okay, what the fuck?

You think you did a pretty good job ignoring the strange reaction that Seungcheol unknowingly pulled from you in the next thirty minutes. Well, mostly because you spent the entire ride to Jeonghan’s station fast asleep, but that’s besides the point.

Though as you drift in and out of consciousness, you can hear bits and pieces of conversation coming from the front. Not like you’re conscious enough to make sense of any of their words, though. 

“You sure you’ll both be okay while I’m gone?” Jeonghan pouts when you’re literally right in front of the entrance—looking more like a needy puppy than the boss of a reputable corporation. “Call me if anything comes up, okay?”

You roll your eyes playfully. “Weren’t you the one who insisted that we’ll be just fine, Hannie? Now, get in there before you’re late for boarding.”

Jeonghan continues to surprise you by pulling you closer by the waist, pressing a long, fervent kiss on your lips. Your eyes widen at the suddenness of his gesture, but this is Jeonghan. You can never resist him if you try. 

“I love you,” he murmurs against your lips. “Try to get along with Cheol while I’m gone, yeah?”

You shoot him a puzzled look before pressing another kiss on the corner of his lip. “What do you mean? We get along just fine.”

He flashes you a tight-lipped smile before turning to Seungcheol. “You, mister, are going to take care of our princess here. Got that?”

“Copy,” Seunghceol lets out a low, deep laugh before pulling Jeonghan closer to plant a soft kiss on his forehead. “Take care over there. Earn us enough money for a comfortable retirement for three.”

“Oh, you bet I will.”

You and Seungcheol linger by the entrance until Jeonghan disappears into the bustling crowd of commuters en-route to other, far-away places. But you only notice how closely you’re standing next to each other when he catches your attention by tapping your wrist.

“What is it?” you ask, swallowing awkwardly. 

Seungcheol takes a moment to glance at his smartwatch, 5:24 A.M flashing on-screen.

“You want to grab breakfast before I drive you to work?”

If he asked you the same question a month ago, you would’ve spat something along the lines of in your dreams before stomping off to the nearest taxi bay. But you remember that you’re a fully functioning adult who still has mistakes to make up for. 

So, with a deep breath, you say:

“Sounds like a plan.”

…

By ‘breakfast’, you expected Seungcheol to just drop by a McDonald’s Drive Thru so you could both munch on burgers and stale french fries in the parking lot. But you’re reminded of the fact that he literally earns about seven digits’ worth of won whenever he’s playing in a season. 

You’re suddenly grateful for having enough foresight to dress smart casual—not the oversized hoodie and sweats you intended at first—because Seungcheol thought it was a good idea to bring you to a five-star restaurant at the crack of dawn. 

“Mister Choi, it’s nice to have you back,” the waiter at the front desk greets with a bow. 

Seungcheol nods. “Table for two. Al fresco.”

“Understood. Some of our staff will be with you shortly.”

You’re not completely unfamiliar with all these fancy settings. Your line of work requires you to follow Jeonghan and his secretary, Joshua, around for a lot of pretentious business dinners. This is just one of the many places you’ve felt out of place, but you like to think you’re already used to blending in.

When a waitress leads the two of you towards the balcony, where you’re granted a panoramic view of the city just before dawn, you nearly forget to breathe.

“Nice view, isn’t it?” Seungcheol’s voice suddenly snaps you out of it as he helps you into your seat—making your cheeks glow red with embarrassment. “Our coach likes coming here whenever he needs to meet us. Thought you’d appreciate the ambience, too.”

“Gotta say, it’s a huge upgrade from those old ice cream parlor dates,” you tell him a bit too loosely, and when you realize what you just said to him, it’s a little too late. 

You try to gauge Seungcheol’s reaction from the corner of your eye—looking for any signs of offense—but if anything, he even looks pleased by the reference. The lanterns hanging overhead bring forth the small smile on his lips, and you don’t like how Seungcheol is starting to make your heart race the same way Jeonghan does.

The same way he used to all those years ago. 

In a poor attempt at dismissing these strange sensations, you bury your nose into the menu instead.

You wonder what’s wrong with you all of a sudden. You’ve spent weeks fueled by anger alone whenever you and Seungcheol are at each other’s throats. But now that you’ve psyched yourself out with the determination to make things right, you’re at an impasse.

With the disdain that you wore like armor having been stripped away, you’ve never felt more vulnerable. Seungcheol isn’t even doing anything except scrolling through his phone, but you feel like your heart’s going to explode in the next few seconds.

Suddenly, you’re a teenager again, but this time the boy you're catching feelings for is actually a fucking football player who can buy out your entire existence.

“Stare at me any more, and you might just put a hole through my skull,” Seungcheol says without glancing up from his screen—making you flinch and hide your face behind the menu again. “Oh, and if you can’t decide on what to eat, their waffles are pretty good.”

That makes you raise an eyebrow, lowering your makeshift shield. “How would you know? Don’t you hate waffles?”

Seungcheol shrugs. “Don’t you love them? I’m just saying because one of my teammates gave me a bite last time, and it wasn’t too bad.”

You try not to think about the implications of why both of you still remember that about each other, flipping through the pages of the menu instead. When you do spot a delectable preview of the waffles, though, you’re immediately sold.

The waitress comes by to take your orders a few minutes later. As she asks if both of you wanted to order coffee in advance, Seungcheol speaks on your behalf.

“Just one coffee and your best hot chocolate.”

Your mouth hangs agape even when the waitress makes her leave, and Seungcheol glances at you with brows raised. “Oh, shit. Do you not prefer hot chocolate over coffee anymore?”

“No, I still do,” you mumble. “I was just…surprised you still remembered.”

Seungcheol doesn’t reply, but you don’t miss the way his ears turn red as the dark sky begins to light up behind him.

There’s nothing remotely romantic about that breakfast run, really. The waffles are good, so is the hot chocolate. But not even those little recollections from the past could ease you and Seungcheol back to normalcy so easily. Worst part is, this is the first time you’ve eaten outside without Jeonghan, so the entire meal is spent in the most awkward of silences.

But…when the sun finally rises in the far east, you and Seungcheol find a momentary common ground. Both of your gazes are trained on the way it peeks above the high rise buildings and skyscrapers—the iridescent rays breaking through both the clouds and the darkness of the night.

Before you knew it, it was a brand new day.

The fascination brought about by the sunrise doesn’t last all that long. You and Seungcheol are back to finishing your food in the ear-splitting silence like usual. However, you can’t help but sneak a few glances every now and again—especially with how the sunlight makes him look even more vibrant than he already is.

No one would catch you admitting to it, but he looks gorgeous like this. Gorgeous enough to make you wonder where everything went wrong.

Except you do know, and you’re hell-bent on fixing…whatever this is before Jeonghan comes back.

“If you don’t mind me asking…”

Seungcheol’s dark eyes flicker to meet yours with an inquisitive stare. “What?”

Chewing the inside of your cheek, you continue, “When did you move to Seoul? Actually, when did you even start playing professionally?”

He swallows down his food before reaching for a glass of water. You try not to pay too much attention to how his throat bobs with each gulp. It’s way too early to get your head into the gutter—

“Right after college, I got scouted to train under the professional league in Seoul,” he explains. “I only started playing in official games about…three years ago, though.”

You nibble on your bottom lip, unsure of how he’ll take your next question.

“Why didn’t you come find me then?”

There it is—silence even more awkward than the last. Seungcheol affixes you with an unreadable stare that makes you want to squirm beneath his gaze. But instead of prolonging your suffering, he simply lets out a soft sigh. 

“I didn’t think you’d want to see me again after what I did,” he says honestly. “Besides, it’s been…years since we split up. I thought you would’ve already moved on by then.”

It took me ten fucking years to move on from you but okay.

You nod before taking a sip of your hot chocolate. “I see. How did you meet Jeonghan?”

“Friend of a friend,” Seungcheol tells you. “Kind of thought he was a nuisance at first, but you know how he gets when he wants something.”

That, you can agree on. “Unstoppable.”

“I was at his mercy,” he attests with a soft laugh. “It took a while, but I fell in love with him eventually. Then we moved in together. Then—”

“He suddenly brings up the fact that he’s attracted to one of his employees?” you supply with an uneasy smile.

Seungcheol shakes his head. “Jeonghan has more tact than that, you know. But he was honest about how he felt about you, and asked if I was open to the idea of going for the set-up we have now.” 

“Were you?”

You thought he’d exercise some caution answering that. Or at least show you a hint of hesitation. But Seungcheol is surprisingly not taken aback by your question, and answers with, “Strange enough, yeah. Normally, I’m really possessive of him, but when he came up to me that day and proposed the idea…I was completely alright with it.”

Your brows scrunch together. “Is it because you knew it was me?” 

“God, no,” he sighs. “If I knew it was you, I would’ve disagreed right away. When I saw you at the restaurant that day, I had to keep myself from running back outside.”

“Ditto,” you chuckle. “It was like the universe giving me the biggest fuck you in existence.”

For the first time in years, the two of you share an easygoing laugh—the morning light making you feel even warmer than you already are. 

You and Seungcheol finish up with the rest of your meals after that. It’ll take a while for you to reach the office since this particular restaurant is a bit out of the way. You don’t blame Seungcheol for his urgency as he leads you back to the parking lot, seeing as you only have about an hour left before Joshua marks you off as a latecomer.

The drive back is quiet, but it’s, by no means, awkward or uncomfortable. Seungcheol talks to you every now and again, asking if he should sort out your stuff for you once he takes your suitcase home or if you wanted to organize it yourself. His thoughtfulness flusters you so much, you end up not giving him an answer at all.

When you’re finally in front of your office building with ten minutes to spare—never underestimate rush hour traffic—Seungcheol tugs on your elbow before you get out of his car.

“Did you mean it?” he asks. 

You tilt your head, confused. “Mean what?”

“When you said you were only doing this for Jeonghan?”

Oh. He still remembers what you said at the restaurant, the first time you saw him after years.

You consider it for a moment—only a moment, since you’re burning daylight here. Back then, you’re sure you meant every single word. You were shocked and hurt by Seungcheol’s mere presence in front of you, but because you loved Jeonghan so much, you were willing to make a few compromises just to be with him.

Now, though?

“I…don’t know,” you admit. 

There’s a first for everything—and this is the first time you’ve ever seen Choi Seungcheol’s face light up in the face of uncertainty.

…

Your arrangement is pretty simple. 

Seungcheol drives you to and from work whenever he doesn’t have games, and you agree to cook him some dinner as compensation.

Tonight, though, your chaperone has a practice match that’s running a little late, so you decide to hang back in the office even later than Joshua, who’s usually the last person who times out for the day. You reassure him that Jeonghan is going to keep you company through FaceTime while you wait for Seungcheol to come pick you up, and it seems that your boyfriend’s secretary is more than convinced with that line of reasoning.

“He took you to that fancy breakfast place?!” Jeonghan squawks from the other side of the screen. “He hasn’t even taken me there!”

“Well, whose fault is it for going on a sudden business trip?” You stick your tongue out at him as you do some last-minute paperwork on your laptop. “Better luck next time, Hannie.”

“Hmph. I’ll go there by myself when I get back to Seoul! Who needs companionship anyway?”

You roll your eyes, stifling a laugh of your own. “That’s funny coming from a guy who has two partners.”

“...Okay, good point.”

Jeonghan always proves to be excellent company even when he isn’t physically here with you. Your boyfriend does an excellent job in keeping you entertained—from stories about who’s having an affair with who in the conference he’s attending to all the delicious food he wants to eat with you and Seungcheol one day, he tells you all of it.

But about an hour into the call, Seungcheol still hasn’t texted you, and your eyelids are starting to droop. 

“I think you should take a nap first, sweetheart,” Jeonghan suggests, concern lacing his delicate features. “Go on, I’ll keep watch.”

“As if you can do anything if some lunatic tries to murder me in my sleep.”

“Hey, I’d still be an important eye witness if that was the case.” He chuckles. “Now go to sleep. I’ll tell Seungcheol to text me once he’s there so the guards can let him up.”

Normally, you would’ve argued but…

“Fine…”

…

Seungcheol has only gone inside yours and Jeonghan’s office building twice in his life. The first time was to surprise him on his birthday, and the second was after an argument so bad, they almost broke up.

On his third time, the other employees have long since left the building. It’s only the security guards and…well, you.

He didn’t mean to make you wait so long, really. But what was meant to be just one practice match turned into three as extra preparation for his game tomorrow evening. Seungcheol felt a familiar bout of déjà vu at the thought of having to make you wait longer than you’re supposed to. 

In short, he didn’t like it, and when his teammates requested for a fourth match despite it already being ten o’clock in the evening, Seungcheol was ready to bail. 

Even the guilt that roots itself into his chest once he sees you dozing off in front of your laptop is familiar. He doesn’t deserve your patience, really, but he’ll gladly accept it.

To his surprise, he notices that you’re in a FaceTime call with Jeonghan, who he just texted a few minutes ago so he could come fetch you from the office. His lover waves at him from the other side, casting him a smile that Seungcheol has grown to miss with each day he’s away.

“She waited for two hours, you know,” Jeonghan scolds.

“I know. I’ll make it up to her later,” Seungcheol laughs before leaning closer to wake you—

“Cheol?”

Perking up at the sound of Jeonghan calling his name, Seungcheol glances at your phone with a puzzled expression. “Yeah?”

He opens his mouth as if meaning to say something, only to close it again and shake his head.

“It’s—it’s nothing,” he laughs, almost like he’s embarrassed. “I love you. Both of you.”

Seungcheol feels his chest pang with warmth, eyes flickering from Jeonghan then to your peaceful form, hunched over the desk. 

“I love you, too,” he says, voice barely above a whisper.

“Both of you.”

…

Jeonghan [5:15 P.M.]: love, can you bring cheol his favorite energy drink before his game?

Jeonghan [5:15 P.M.]: it’s kind of his pre-game tradition, but they won’t let food deliveries past the gates. gotta give it to him in person.

Me [5:20 P.M.]: sure thing. cheol already asked me to do that tho, so i told joshua i’m timing out early. 

Jeonghan [5:21 P.M.]: ah, that’s great news <3 take care on the way!

Jeonghan [5:30 P.M.]: wait. cheol ASKED you to?

...

Like Jeonghan had requested, and like you promised to Seungcheol, you handed him his favorite energy drink—a niche brand that wasn’t available in any of the vending machines, picky little bastard—ten minutes before they had to do their warm-ups. He stared at you like he didn’t expect you to actually follow through with what you said, and nearly killed you with a bone-crushing hug.

“Thanks,” he whispered breathlessly into your ear before planting a wet kiss on your cheek. “I’ll clean up quickly after the game so we can go home and have dinner.” 

Immediately after, Seungcheol bolted at the sound of one of his teammates calling for him, leaving you standing there, red-faced.

It’s almost the same thing each time you meet him before all of his games. Seungcheol spends a few seconds convincing himself that you’re not a mirage before taking the drink you personally got for him. Then, like some sort of good luck ritual, he kisses your cheek and heads back to the field just in time for warm-ups. 

You honestly didn’t think you’d be so willing to run all these errands on his behalf. Hell, you didn’t think you’d find yourself seated amongst thousands of spectators as one of your boyfriends kills it on the field. 

You’ve been to Seungcheol’s games back then, so you thought you were already prepared for the audience’s loud cheers once you settled into your seat. But you completely overlooked the fact that the open field in your old high school is insurmountably different from the biggest indoor stadium in the country.

So when Seungcheol’s team rakes in victory after victory, you feel just the slightest bit of pride swelling in your chest. Who knew that the same guy who often ditched football practices to go on dates with you in the past would become such a rising star in only a few years?

On their last game for the week, Seungcheol gets hailed as the MVP of the season, and you tell yourself that he absolutely does not have to know that you nearly screamed your lungs out when his name was announced on the big screen. Definitely not.

Seungcheol ends up finding you before you can find him once the awards ceremony has been concluded—making a show of biting the piece of 24-carat gold hanging from his neck. You roll your eyes before taking out something you’ve expertly hidden in a wide tote bag.

“Congrats on beating their asses, I guess,” you say sheepishly before handing him a perfectly arranged bouquet of—

“Gladiolus?” Seungcheol smirks when he accepts your gift. “You sure did your research, huh?”

“Hey, the info is easily accessible on the internet,” you huff, yet still pose accordingly when Seungcheol fishes out his phone to snap a picture. “Not much effort was required to pull this off.”

“Sure it didn’t.”

When he finally stops teasing you about the present you got for him, Seungcheol proposes to have dinner somewhere fancy—an idea you might’ve flat-out rejected at first, but choose to consider. Just this once. 

But before you can give him the green light, a couple of his teammates come up to the both of you with congratulatory smiles. You recognize them as Kim and Jeon—two players who also caught your eye on the field. Seungcheol introduces them as Mingyu and Wonwoo respectively, and out of the blue, Mingyu invites the two of you to the team’s victory party happening at a nightclub just across the street.

You expect Seungcheol to immediately agree. After all, he’s the star of the season. His presence there is practically tantamount. But instead, he glances at you with a questioning look. 

“We don’t have to show up if you’re tired,” he says. “I know my games have been keeping you up late.”

Wonwoo nods in agreement. “True. Besides, we can have more exclusive celebrations once our coach has given us this season’s payroll. Tonight is more of a free-for-all than a victory party, actually.” 

“No, I’m good.” 

Mingyu cheers at your response, while Seungcheol’s eyes widen just a fraction. “You sure?”

You know he’s only being this way because Jeonghan probably told him about the Myeongdong Incident, A.K.A., an office party from a few years back, where you made an absolute fool out of yourself for downing one weird shot too many. Your boss-slash-boyfriend hasn’t let you live it down since.

“I’ll be fine,” you reassure him. “Besides, this is your night. What kind of fiend would that make me if I hog you all to myself?”

Wonwoo lets out a very loud wolf whistle that has the tips of Seungcheol’s ears turning pink with embarrassment, and it takes all your self-control to keep yourself from snapping a pic.

“Fine,” he sighs. “Don’t expect me to take care of you if you go overboard, though. Got that?”

…

Except he does take care of you when you inevitably go overboard.

Like in every instance where you find yourself wasted beyond belief (move over Soonyoung, someone has taken the crown), the details are a bit muddled in your brain. You just remember seeing a bunch of women in skimpy outfits crowding your boyfriend right after he gave his MVP-of-the-season speech, and it was all over for you. 

You’re not very sure, but you might’ve put on a bit of a…territorial display out there. You also might’ve done a body shot on Seungcheol before kissing him in front of everyone just to prove a point. 

Again, you’re not sure, so you’re innocent until proven guilty.

“Cheol, ‘sso hot,” you mumble as he props you upright on the king-sized mattress back home. “Turn on the…air conditioner, please.” 

You hear him laugh. What’s so funny?

“Baby, it’s twenty degrees outside,” he says. “That’s just the alcohol. Come on, drink this so you can sober up a little. You can’t take a shower if your head’s still spinning.”

Your eyes are still screwed shut, so you don’t know what exactly it is he’s offering. Still, you say, “Don’t wanna.”

Seungcheol sighs. “Please? Jeonghan said your hangovers get worse when you don’t freshen up before sleeping.”

Jeonghan… The mere mention of your lover has you writhing on the mattress, chasing after the remnants of his scent on the sheets.

“I miss Hannie…” you whine, unconsciously letting Seungcheol prop you back up as he places whatever drink he’s forcing you to ingest in your hands. “When’s he coming back?” 

“In a week or so, baby,” he reassures. “Now, drink. Please?”

You’ve never felt more thirsty at that first drop of water in your mouth, downing the entire glass like you did with those shots back at the party. Seungcheol chuckles again, and you open your eyes a bit to shoot him an unamused look.

“There we go,” he commends. “That’s my good girl. You want some more?”

Oh… You might be in the ninth circle of intoxication right now, but you heard those words come out of Seungcheol’s mouth loud and clear. And they are not doing your poor underwear any favors.

If you were sober, you think you would’ve had an internal meltdown about that…inappropriate reaction you had to Seungcheol’s completely harmless words. But you tell yourself not to overanalyze every single thing for once and just let your not-ex-boyfriend take care of you.

“Yes, please.”

About an hour later, you’re fresh from the shower and tucked in bed—body still weighted by both fatigue and the leftover intoxication. You don’t see it when he does, but Seungcheol’s stare lingers a second too long once he climbs on the other side of the mattress.

King size is huge, especially without Jeonghan sharing the same space with both of you. But Seungcheol hasn’t tried to close the distance that your lover’s absence has introduced. He doesn’t want to be the one to come onto you, especially with the way he left things between you in the past. 

But on nights like this, when he hears your soft snores on the other side, he wants nothing more than to reach out and hold you in his arms. Just like he used to.

Before he lets those introspective thoughts consume him, Seungcheol turns off the lamp on the bedside table—hopefully turning off his brain in the process.

In the right time, maybe.

…

You can’t sleep. 

The burn of inebriation has long been flushed out of your system, but your skin still feels like it’s on fire. When you turn to the side to face the man you’re currently sharing this too-massive bed with, that’s when you realize that your body is being engulfed by a different kind of heat.

Eyes parsing through the darkness, you figure that Seungcheol is still fast asleep as you move over to scoot closer to him—taking your pillow and comforter with you. 

You would’ve been more reserved with your actions on any other day, but now you wrap your arms around the broad circumference of his bicep—breathing in the fresh scent of his shirt like a well-known comfort. It helps you relax a little, but you know this isn’t nearly enough to address the throbbing between your thighs.

Fuck.

“Baby? What’s wrong?” 

Your heart lurches at the realization that you woke him up. Seungcheol moves to glance at you with sleepy yet concerned eyes—wondering what on earth possessed you to cling to him like this. You can’t even bring yourself to meet his gaze without crumbling from embarrassment.

“I…”

He hums. “What? I didn’t hear you.”

“I can’t sleep,” you mumble. 

Seungcheol nods. “Okay. Why?”

You press your forehead into his arm, letting out an internal scream.

Are you really going to tell him?

“...’m aching.”

“Aching?” he asks, brows raised. “Well you kinda danced your heart out earlier. Where does it hurt? Maybe I can help.”

You take what might be the deepest inhale you’ve taken in your entire life before untangling your arms around Seungcheol’s—using your free hand to guide him lower, lower, until his hot fingers are resting above the apex of your thighs.

“Here.”

He’s quiet—maddeningly so. 

You don’t think your pride can handle it if he gets out of bed and leaves you again. In fact, you might just flee the country altogether. Change your name, and start anew in some faraway land. But Seungcheol is quick to recover from the absolute stupor you just subjected him to. 

The next thing you know, he’s manhandled you in a way that has you trapped between his broad frame and the bed—gaze boring into you so intensely, you nearly moan.

“Look at me,” he commands sternly. “Are you serious? You’re not still drunk, are you? Do you really want to…?”

Despite yourself, you roll your eyes. “Cheol, if I was drunk, I would’ve already jumped you without a second thought.”

“That doesn’t answer the question.”

God, you forgot how insufferable he can be. 

Now that the drowsiness has long left your body, replaced by something more untamable, more volatile, you lace your fingers around Seungcheol’s neck—pressing your foreheads together.

“Choi Seungcheol,” you whisper. “I can’t sleep because I’m horny as hell. If you don’t do anything about it, you’re sleeping on the goddamn couch.”

That’s all the confirmation he needs.

Seungcheol smashes your lips together like he’s been deprived of your kiss for lifetimes and more—one hand going to the back of your head, and the other beneath your waist so he can press your hips impossibly closer. You thought those makeout sessions back in the high school locker rooms were the hottest ones you’d ever get to experience from him, but apparently, marinating in ten years’ worth of longing charges the air with enough sexual tension to make you dizzy. 

You breathe his name against his lips as he explores every inch of your mouth—mapping it out with his tongue as if relearning something he never thought he’d get to relive again. When you feel him grinding his hardening length against your thigh, you take his bottom lip between your teeth in heady anticipation. 

You want him so badly. Wanted him all this time, and you’re just realizing how much of an idiot you were for depriving each other for so long.

“Cheol,” you whimper, mouth still hot against his as you roll your hips. “Need— Need you.”

“I’m right here, baby,” he whispers. “I’m never leaving again.”

In your lust-drunk daze, you couldn’t completely comprehend the meaning behind those words, but your heart responds in kind—racing in your ribcage so quick, you thought you’d pass out.

However, Seungcheol is intent on keeping you wide awake and completely aware of every single thing he’s going to do to you. He’s quick to take off your shirt, and you’re an all-too willing accomplice. A rush of pride surges through you when Seungcheol groans at the sight of your bare tits. 

“You have no idea,” he starts, voice husky with arousal as he peppers your breasts with hungrry kisses, “how much I missed these. Knowing Han gets to play with them while I can’t drove me fucking insane.”

“They’re all yours now, Cheol,” you chuckle before your breath hitches all of a sudden once he bites down harshly on your skin. 

“All mine,” he growls.

His shirt is gone the next moment, and the reaction you have to seeing him completely shirtless isn’t so different to how he took the sight of your breasts for the first time in a long time. This man is fucking huge—all bulging pecs and rock hard abs. You would’ve laid him down on the bed just to take your time to worship his ridiculously fit body (thank God for their tireless training), except Seungcheol doesn’t look like he has any plans on relinquishing control tonight. 

Not after he’s waited for you all this time.

Even if you tell him you’re too goddamn horny for foreplay, Seungcheol isn’t having any of it. He splays himself between your thighs—a sight that’s all too new to you. Back then, you’d simply experimented on occasional fingering and a handjob, but oral was foreign territory. 

And just thinking of having the mouth that just won’t stop running on you is enough to drive you up a wall.

Seungcheol doesn’t need any words to make you feel good. Once he’s bruised the inside of your thighs with his rough, biting kisses, he tears through your underwear before tossing it to the side. Before you can even utter out a single word in complaint, though, he’s flattening his tongue along your slit—licking a long, broad stripe that has you preening on the mattress.

He spreads you open with his fingers, making sure there’s no inch of your pussy untouched by his greedy tongue. When Seungcheol moves to press a single finger at your entrance, the sound you let out is unholy. You nearly hide your face out of shame, but Seungcheol reprimands you the second you move away.

“Keep those eyes on me, baby,” he growls. “Watch how I fuck you on my fingers. Watch how I’ll make you fall apart with my mouth.”

You practically buck your hips along with the shallow thrusts he makes with that long, thick digit. You can’t even begin to imagine how good it’ll feel once he sticks his throbbing cock inside of you, but you tell yourself that patience is a virtue. Seungcheol has always had a mean streak, and you’d rather not get teased to death tonight.

When he slides in the next finger, you can already feel the stretch. Seungcheol distracts you from it with his tongue—flicking it against your clit in a way that has your toes curling with the preciseness of his movements. It makes you wonder how many women he’s done this to get this good, but the thought leaves a sour taste in your mouth.

Still, you can’t complain. After all, you’re reaping all the benefits from whatever past experience he’s had over the last ten years. You’d be a fool not to take complete advantage of that.

“So fucking wet for me,” Seungcheol sighs before spitting on your cunt—lathering his spit with your dripping essence—and the sight makes you tug at his hair in your horny delirium. 

“You’re going to kill me,” you whisper hoarsely.

Seungcheol snickers condescendingly before pulling out his fingers from your sopping cunt. Then, he raises them to your lips. “Open.”

You part your lips to make way for his fingers a bit too easily, lathering the underside with your tongue as the tangy taste of your essence fills your senses. There’s a dangerous look in Seungcheol’s eyes as you lick his fingers, and something tells you that, despite the heavy fatigue from his past games, this one still has a lot more vigor to offer.

Seungcheol moves to discard his boxers, and you try not to look too desperate for his cock—pressed firmly against his toned stomach before he pumps it with his fist. 

“On your knees, sweetheart,” he sighs. “Raise that ass for me.”

“No.” 

He frowns, obviously not used to his authority being tested in bed. “And why is that?”

Like a bullet straight through his skull, you rest back on the plush comfort of the pillows, spreading your legs so tantalizingly, Seungcheol almost pounces at you without thinking. You’re posed so sexily on the same bed he’s dreamed of taking you on countless times—offering your sweet cunt for him to take.

“I want to see you, Cheol,” you tell him with a bossy undertone that makes him fall in love with you all over again as you beckon him closer.

“So are you just going to stare at me all night, or are you going to fuck my soul out of my body?”

You’re so fucking daring. And Seungcheol is so fucking whipped.

There’s something so new yet so familiar with the way Seungcheol handles your body. Each touch is imbued with all the time he wishes he could have spent with you; each moan, a timeless rendition of all the words he wanted to say to you. You can’t even let yourself go to the feeling of him ramming his thick girth into your pussy because you’re overwhelmed by the surge of emotions he quietly imbues into your body.

When Seungcheol notices you crying, he immediately halts each and every movement—panic eclipsing the hunger he’s been keeping down for weeks. But when he realizes the tears aren’t from pain, his eyes soften.

“I’m sorry,” you sob, tugging him back down into a messy kiss. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”

Fuck. He isn’t sure what to feel right now. Bliss because you’re clamping down on his cock so deliciously tight? Relief because he doesn’t seem like the only one who’s still tormented by the past? 

I love you, he wants to say. I never stopped, and I never will.

But he won’t say it. Not yet. He doesn’t want you to think he’s saying it in the spur of the moment, or because his emotions are especially high-strung now that he’s balls-deep inside you. 

He’ll tell you when Jeonghan is back, and the three of you can all start this strange, strange relationship from scratch. 

When you finally reach the high you’ve desperately been clawing after—as evidenced by the angry red marks on Seungcheol’s back—he commits the sight of your eyes rolling to the back of your head in the pinnacle of release into memory. It renders him completely fucking wrecked for you, spilling into your awaiting heat as he fucks himself into completion.

You’re both sweaty and sticky by the time Seungcheol collapses back on the mattress, but you don’t care. Though he’s frayed every single nerve-ending beneath your skin with that blistering orgasm, you let yourself bask in the encompassing warmth of his body. 

For the first time in years, you fall asleep in Seungcheol’s arms—like a quiet forgiveness you’ve decided to afford both him and yourself.

…

Jeonghan arrives back in Seoul a week ahead of schedule. 

After hearing about all the records that Seungcheol has broken for himself this season, he wanted nothing more than to hop on the first train back home and be with the two people he cherishes the most. 

So, like the natural schemer he is, he asked his beloved secretary if there was any way to cut this gruesome business trip short. Long story short, after learning (through completely legal means!) that his annoying business partner has a troublemaking son that’s been laundering money behind his back, Jeonghan is quick to pull some strings. 

Once the news reached said business partner, he was immediately apologizing to Jeonghan for having to postpone the deal because of a personal matter. 

Now, he’s back home—closing the front door to their house as quietly as he could. 

It’s no later than six in the morning, and while you’d usually be up and about as you got ready for work by this time, he remembers that it’s Saturday, and how you loved to sleep in. 

As Jeonghan places his luggage somewhere in the living room, however, he notices that the flower vase on the coffee table—strategically placed for aesthetic, yet is usually empty—has an assortment of colorful blooms spilling out. 

Gladiolus flowers. Seungcheol’s birth flower.

When he opens the door to the bedroom with curious eyes, his heart is put at ease at the sight before him. You and Seungcheol lie there without an inch of distance separating you—limbs tangled together with the sheets in a way Jeonghan has only dreamed of seeing.

He breathes out a soft laugh, smiling to himself.

“It’s about time, my two beloved idiots.”

part one - part two - part three | masterlist

[hallietblr]

here with me | j.fisher

a/n: first post!! a mini tsitp angtsy fic just because:) i hope you all have an amazing and beautiful day<3

warnings: cheating, swearing, angst.

—

“y/n, wait!” i can hear him exclaim behind me as i quickly walk adjacent to the fisher’s summer home and away from the pool.

my heart is thumping loud in my chest and there’s a slight ringing in my ears as i sniffle, trying to prevent the threatening tears from falling. i tuck the hanging pieces of hair behind my ears as i silently beg for my legs to move faster, rushing to the empty streets of cousins.

unfortunately, the golden curled boy was much taller therefore quicker than i was despite him being in his pool for a night swim… with her. i struggle to take a deep breath as his footsteps approach from behind.

“please, baby” jeremiah pleads, attempting to grab my wrist, “it’s not what it looks like, i promise.”

i stop in my tracks, my wrist in his larger hand. once he realizes that i’m no longer going to try to run from him, his grip on me slowly softens. at this point, the two of us are in the middle of the road. only sounds of crickets filling the air and the shimmering summer stars up above keeping us company.

i don’t even dare to look him in the eyes, his beautiful sky blue eyes that i adore. i know the second our eyes connect, that i will break. the cries that i have been trying to keep down will arise.

i look down at my beaten white converse, “then tell me what it was, jeremiah.

because to me, it was very clear that i just caught you hooking up with belly in the pool.” i spat out, my voice laced with betrayl, “it’s always been her… hasn’t it?”

i turn so our chests are facing one another, my gaze slowly crawling up from my shoes to his stunned expression. the tears are welling up in my eyes and i don’t even try to hide it anymore — he’s at a loss for words, his eyes dancing across my face as he searches for something to say

“i-” he stutters out. my head drops, slowly shaking in disbelief to myself,

“i always knew it. ever since we were seven, you’ve only had eyes for her but a part of me always hoped that you will notice me someday.” i say sadly, “all i ever wanted was for you, my best friend, to see me.”

his hand gently grazes my arm before settling onto my shoulder, “y/n, love… i do see you. you’re my girlfriend after all.”

i scoff in response, “right, so i’m your girlfriend but i’m not enough for you since you’re kissing belly.”

the moonlight shines brightly on his caramel curls, highlighting the lighter features of it that it got from being in the summer sun. every inch of my body wants to melt into his strong arms — but i know that if i allow myself to do that, that i’m giving a piece of my heart away to someone to clearly wants someone else.

how could i be so stupid? thinking that after eight years of jeremiah loving belly, that his feelings would suddenly change and love me instead. at the same time, it felt so real.

it was last summer, when the three of us were fifteen, was when he confessed to me on the beach. we had just finished a morning surf session, something only jeremiah and i would do together. he and i sat on the soft sands of the beach, completely alone as the entire world was just waking up. we watched the waves, my head on his shoulder like always when he put his hand on my cheek.

jeremiah told me that since our last summer at the beach house, he couldn’t stop thinking about me. and not just in the best friend sense. he said me that he wanted us to be together, that it was just right. how it was always meant to be us two in the end, how it was written in the stars.

it felt so… real.

we have been together since, tagged as the it couple of cousins. we surfed together, partied together, played volleyball together, essentially been attached to the hip. susannah, laurel, and rachelle (my mother) claimed they always saw it coming since we were babies. they say they always knew that their children will end up being together, or maybe that’s just what they dreamed about so that they will be sisters officially.

i snapped out of my trance of reminiscing our relationship, i look at him. my jeremiah. i could tell behind his eyes that he knew exactly what he had done, what was missing from his eyes was the sight of regret. something i had silently begged to see, because maybe, just maybe we will be able to recover from this.

“jere…” i sigh, his hand brushing small strands of hair out of my face so he can see me better. a tear slips from the corner of my eye, travelling down my cheek, “tell me that it’s hasn’t always been her.”

“y/n”

this was the make it or break it point. i pray that if he tells me that it genuinely meant nothing, then we would maybe be fine.

my lip quivers, “please just tell me that i’m the right one for you, that’s it’s just you and me until the end.”

his mouth opens slightly, but then closes.

shit.

i sharply inhale, trying to collect the racing thoughts in my head, “jeremiah, please… for us. just tell it meant absolutely nothing and that you don’t have feelings for her still.”

“y/n…”

“you owe this to me,” i cry, the tears falling faster than ever as i feel my heart starting to break, “just tell me you don’t see her like that anymore. i swear, if you just say that you only want me, i promise i’ll drop this all.

i will never mention this again. we can forget about this a- and we can go surfing tomorrow, we can take the jeep to get th- the muffins for everyone” i beg him, his thumb swipes the tears away from my cheek as his head drops, “just say you’re here with me.”

“you know i can’t say that” he whispers, almost as if he’s scared that someone else will hear him. or maybe because he knew that this was the ending point.

broken.

i step away from him. i stare at him, the boy i love more than anyone — but it’s not him. my legs feel like jello and my knees feel like they’re about to give out,

“i knew it.” i breath out, swallowing sharply, “god, i’m so fucking stupid.”

i can feel his eyes on me, but he says nothing. any ounce of our relationship that could possibly be saved if he could just say something to pick up the broken pieces.

but, nothing.

“i’m sorry, y/n.” jeremiah says sadly, “i never wanted to hurt you like this, sunshine.”

i roll my eyes as tears continue to roll, “you have no right to call me that. don’t even think about calling me when belly tells you that she doesn’t see you like that. you and i know goddamn well that she loves conrad. she only kissed you because he’s been brushing her off.”

with that, i turn away from my ex-lover and start walking away back to my own home. without even a glance back at where he stood alone on the empty streets, knowing that he had just lost the best girl he would ever have.

[flowercrowngods]

part 1 | part 2 (these make one big story, you won't understand this part without the others)

day 03: first kiss

a/n: not sure if I vibe with this part, but I hope it's okay. also don't think you're getting fluff

A broken heart is such a thing that will make you live either in the past or in the future; never in the present moment. Lovesickness feels like a virus is attacking the very fabric of your universe, distorting time and space and leaving you floating; directionless and hurting. 

That is how Steve feels as he goes through the motions of his life, getting his kids ready for finals, for their oral and written exams, or planning end-of-year school trips. While school provides a great distraction and he has mastered the art of switching into teacher mode almost effortlessly, he feels like he’s just an inch or two beside himself. Beside where he should be. 

He’s dwelling in the past or mourning dozens of possible futures, an infinity of them that will end up unrealised, unlived, unloved. His heart is heavy all the time, his head hurting, and his phone chiming with an endless string of messages that go unopened, unreplied. 

It’s been a few weeks since the engagement party, since he last saw Eddie — who asked if he was okay, who has been asking to see him again, to hang out, have a drink, just catch up. But every time he does, Steve just hurts, and he finds excuses. 

— Sorry, it’s finals season, I’ll be spread thin for the next few weeks :(

Eddie had replied with a litany of sad, brokenhearted emojis that were at equal measures ridiculous as they were exactly what Steve was feeling. Is feeling. Will probably always be feeling, for the rest of his life and beyond. 

So far, Eddie hasn’t asked him to be his best man. Steve sort of doesn’t want to give him the opportunity for that. He’s cowardly enough to wish he could avoid Eddie forever if only that meant he wouldn’t have to see his face fall and crumble when he tells him, No. 

No, I can’t be your best man. I can’t make it to the wedding. I can’t make it, I can’t do this, I can’t stand by and watch as you show me and the rest of the world that your dream life is not with me. Never with me. I can’t hand you over when all I wanna do is hold you. Hold your hand. Walk you down the aisle and then sweep you up in my arms, just to run out, run away; anywhere, as long as it’s with you. 

It doesn’t make sense. There won’t be an aisle, there won’t be any sweeping, there won’t be a future for them. Never has been. Not like this. 

Although there was a brief moment in time where their futures almost aligned. Almost. The timing was never right, though, stumbling through the motions and currents of two lost boys’ emotions. But it was almost there, almost enough.

And it's what's been on Steve's mind all week, playing and replaying, tearing at him from the inside out, leaving him with a jigsaw puzzle of infinite pieces of could have beens, would have beens, and what ifs.

"You know," he tells Robin one evening, who has practically moved in now, claiming that broken hearts are best nursed together. "I was actually Eddie's first kiss."

To her credit, Robin doesn't drop the carton pizza at Steve's non-sequitur. She just swallows hard and looks at him in that careful way she has now, where she's trying to read him and ask his eyes to tell her what it is that she should say next. It's frustrating. It's the greatest kindness anyone has ever shown him. It makes him want to punch a wall, and it makes him want to wrap her in the warmest hug and never, ever let her go.

"You were?"

Steve just nods, his lips trembling as his throat closes up again.

"No," she says in the gentlest voice, taking his hand as she guides him to the living room couch. "I didn't know that. Do you wanna talk about it?"

He shakes his head, tucking his feet under her thigh and leaning sideways against the backrest of the couch. His head is heavy and he's tired. He's always tired, even though he doesn't cry as much anymore. It's been four weeks since the engagement party.

"No, I just, uh– Just wanted to say that."

She nods, her eyes boring into him for two, three, four seconds before she finally turns to her pizza.

He looks past her, his eyes unfocused as his mind travels back to that day when they were still in high school.

~*~

The day that Eddie told him he was gay. And Steve had asked how he knew, because he'd been wondering about his own sexuality.

"I don't know, I just know."

"Well, have you ever kissed a boy?"

And Eddie had blushed a little, charred with his feet in the dirt like he always did – still does. "No."

"Okay."

And Steve, ten years ago, had thought, why not kill two birds with one stone. "Would you like to?"

"Huh?"

"Well, I mean, I'm kinda on the fence about it? Sometimes I think I might like guys, but then other times not so much. But I've never kissed one either, so," he shrugged. "If you, like, want to? We can."

"You want me to kiss you?" Eddie sounded incredulous, but his eyes were very big, very dark, very vulnerable. And it was not a no.

"Only if you want to."

A grin split Eddie's face then and he raised his eyebrows suggestively, but there was something forced about it. "Well, what If I fall madly in love with you, Steve Harrington, hm? What then?"

"Oh, please," Steve had only snorted; the thought that Eddie would fall for him out of all people was just too absurd.

And then something had shifted between them, the air turned into something sizzling as Eddie's smile fell and he stepped closer to Steve, raising one hand to his cheek.

"Here goes my first kiss," he murmured.

"Ever?"

"If we discount Lisa from kindergarten, then yes."

Steve huffed, looking down at Eddie's lips, the moment strangely intimate – but not uncomfortably so. Being this close to Eddie wasn't something new, Steve was used to his friend's tactile nature. "Fuck Lisa from kindergarten."

"I'd really rather not," Eddie smiled before finally, finally leaning in and capturing Steve's lips in a kiss.

To this day, Steve is not sure why he went and deepened the kiss like he did. Was it because he knew this was Eddie's first and he wanted to make it good, make it last? Was it because something deep inside of him knew that he liked boys, too, and that he liked Eddie, even though that realisation wouldn't come for another year at least?

He doesn't know why, but he feels it on his lips still, the memory of their first kiss. Their only kiss. A spectacular one that ended with twin smiles after Steve showed Eddie how to move his lips, how to tilt his head, how to open his mouth to let him in. How to capture the little sigh that he would make.

Eddie had looked at him, a little dazed, and Steve grinned at him, delighted at his expression more than at the kiss itself.

"A-And did you," Eddie started, pulling his hands away from Steve and shoving them deeply into his pockets. "Did you get any closer to, uh, to finding out?"

"If I like guys?"

Eddie nodded.

Steve thought about it; about the kiss and how it wasn't as soft as making out with Nancy or Allison. How he would swallow their moans and run his hands along their soft bodies. Eddie wasn't like that. Eddie was just Eddie.

"I think I'll just stick with girls for now," he shrugged with a smile, patting Eddie on the shoulder and squeezing lightly when the other boy began to sway a little.

"Suit yourself, Harrington," Eddie said, shoving him a little. "But you're missing out."

Years later, Eddie had drunkenly confessed to him that he'd had a crush on Steve back then. For years. And Steve had wanted to ask about it, ask if it's still there, that crush, that connection on a deeper, closer level; but then Eddie told him, "Remember Chrissy? We're official now."

And all the words had died on Steve's lips. All those questions, or the confession that, Yeah, me too. Though Steve's crush on Eddie was much later, years after their first kiss, – and it never really ended.

Still hasn't. And it's not a crush. It's more. It's everything.. He's in love. In it. Caught, stuck, trapped inside, while Eddie and everyone else is on the outside, just watching him struggle.

~*~

Later that night, on his umpteenth re-run of the First Kiss Episode that's keeping him from falling asleep, leaving him frustrated and sad and wondering, his phone rings. Eddie's name pops up on the screen, the impersonal Eddie Munson feels like a knife through his heart. He couldn't bear any of the silly nicknames that Eddie's always had in his phone, and needed to go back to a clean slate.

It hurts, though. He watches, considering to let it go to voicemail – but he hasn't talked to his... to Eddie in four weeks. Barely even talked to him on his engagement party.

And even though there's a chance opening for Eddie to ask him or to talk about his wedding, Steve answers the call.

"Stevie," Eddie says, somewhere between a sigh and a hum, and immediately takes away Steve's breath.

"Hi," he rasps. His heart is racing, his hands begin to tremble and he's shaking even under the thick, warm blanket.

"Did I wake you?"

He hums a negative, not trusting himself to speak, and it comes out a pathetic croak, because God, he missed Eddie. Part of him was missing – part of him will always be missing now, he knows –, and it makes him cry. It's not a sob, not a wail, not anything that Eddie can hear or something that would alarm Robin in the other room.

They're silent tears, and he presses his face into the pillow. He should hang up.

"Stevie?" Eddie asks again, his voice so small, so gentle, so worried. "Are you okay?" And after a moment of Steve being unresponsive because he can't catch his breath without gasping, Eddie asks, "Are you crying?"

And just like a kid that tries to be brave through the pain after falling down, but breaks the moment someone asks if they're hurt, Steve lets out a tiny, broken little sob.

"Oh, Stevie baby," Eddie sighs, and he sounds so sad, so compassionate, Steve never wants to hear his name like that ever again. "Do you want me to come over?"

"No," he croaks pathetically, hitting himself once, twice, three times for not keeping it together. For not being strong enough.

I can't do this.

"What do you need?"

"Sleep," he sniffles, stupidly.

"Okay. Then I'll stay here and be silent company, yeah? Don't need to be alone. Is Robin there?" He hums again, affirmative. "Good. Want me to say something? Read to you, tell you a story? Play you some music or–"

"Eddie," Steve manages. I love you. "Just silence? But you don't have to."

"Nah, I'll stay with you," Eddie says before Steve even finished his objections. "Until you've fallen asleep, yeah?"

Steve just nods into his pillow, even though Eddie can't see or hear it.

He's watching the seconds turn into minutes as the time passes. He's so tired, but he doesn't want to let go yet. Not when Eddie is right there. Not when there's still the phantom feeling of his lips capturing Steve's, a memory that is ten years old and still as strong as the very first second.

He should have known, then. Should have leaned in for another kiss, should have told Eddie that he knows he's into boys now, too, and ask Eddie to keep kissing him.

He shouldn't have taken years.

He should have created a new world just for the two of them, with an infinite amount of futures, and all go them happy. All of them SteveAndEddie.

But he didn't. And he wants to apologise. For being so slow, for not knowing until it was too late. For pulling away these past few weeks when that's the last thing he ever wants to do. For not being strong enough; for being too weak.

I'm in love with you, he thinks. Over and over and over. Mouths it voicelessly into the silence between them. Says it out loud when after almost two hours, Eddie hangs up with a quiet, "Good night, Stevie. I miss you." He says it when Eddie's gone, the beep of an empty line the only response he gets before that cuts out, too.

And then he's all alone again.

tagging: @sexymothmanincarnate @mcneen @livsters @eddiemunchondeeznuts @abstractnaturaldisaster @steddie-as-they-go @hyperfixationgoddess @goodolefashionedloverboi @stxrcrossed186 @imzadidragonfly @eddiemunsonswife @bidisastersworld @ghost-ly-s @romanticdestruction @walkingaftermidnight07 @anaibis @rainydays35 @mightbeasleep @sunfloweringstories @korixae and thanks to everyone who said nice things about this 🤍🌷

come back tomorrow for: here come the tears (and hurt/comfort, maybe) | read part 4 here