#I'm not drunk and blasting all this music and having a moment

[thelostconsultant]

The bet

pairing: Lando Norris x reader

summary: You and Lando got married before the beginning of the season, but no one knows you're together. You make a bet at the wedding, and Lando truly believes he can get through the season with everyone believing he's single.

fc: The one in the red hoodie is just a random girl from pinterest, while the other two are AI generated. Don't take it seriously. The other photo is also from pinterest.

“What?” you asked, although the question came out more like a bark than a well formulated question.

Lando had been watching you with that stupid grin of his for long minutes now, and you couldn't hide your annoyance any longer. You loved him, you really did, but God, was he annoying sometimes. As you waited for his response, he held up a finger and opened a video on his phone for you.

It was him at the last race weekend, standing on the stage with Oscar. Nothing new. But then he talked about being single, and after this part he quickly moved over to the comments. Everyone was either offering to date him or felt sorry for him, there was no in between. But you couldn't feel sorry for him. 

“You're still gonna lose,” you told him with a laugh.

With a thoughtful hum, he wrapped an arm around you and pulled you against his chest. “You read the comments. I'm the people's princess, they feel so sorry for me. No one suspects a thing. I'm safe,” he said with a confident smile.

Over half a year ago, on the day of your secret wedding at a remote part of the world, the two of you had made a bet. You said he wouldn't be able to keep this secret, that there was no way he could last this season without people finding out he was not only in a relationship, but married too. He begged to differ, saying he was pretty good at keeping secrets.

Now, after all those months, you sometimes had your weak moments when you were sure you would lose, although this was something you were under no circumstances about to tell him. His ego was already big enough when it came to the bet, the last thing you wanted was things getting worse in this sense.

If he won, he would get the right to decide when and how to announce your marriage. And if it was up to him, it would be a hard launch, like a wrecking ball crashing into a building to tear down the walls. He wanted chaos, he wanted everyone to know how much he loved you. It was flattering, really, but could he not?

Because Lando wanted a big, flashy event with all of his friends from on and off the grid, and he wanted alcohol to flow like water while the music blasted loudly around you. It would only come to an abrupt stop the moment he grabbed the mic and announced how much he loved his wife, only to cause the guest to murmur loudly as they tried to figure out if he was just drunk or dead serious.

If you won, it would mean people found out about you, so your prize would be something other than how you made this relationship public. But what could you ask for? So, in the end, you told him you would get to make a wish one day when you figured out what you wanted, and he couldn't say no when you asked.

As of now, people didn't know about you at all. You were just a nameless McLaren employee to them who sometimes showed up on photos with the rest of the team. To make sure you could stay in the background, he even asked one or two girls during the time you were still in the dating phase to pose as his girlfriends for a while. It would only come with a few photos and posts, sometimes appearances in the paddock. Nothing serious, really.

While you could wear your wedding band all the time, Lando didn't have the freedom to do the same. Sure, he had it, safely locked away with the rest our your jewelry until the day your marriage became public. Now he only had a necklace with a pendant you chose, your initials engraved into it with small letters so it wouldn't be so obvious on photos.

“I've been thinking,” you suddenly said, moving your head a little so you could look him in the eye. When he let out a questioning hum and flashed a smile at you, you reached out to play with his pendant. “Why don't we raise the stakes in our little bet?”

Lando kissed your cheek, then he said, “You hate it that I'm winning.”

Rolling your eyes, you let out a sigh. “No, I just had an idea for a little experiment. What if you wore your wedding band on the next race weekend?” you asked with an innocent look on your face.

It was mean, you knew that, because this would surely draw attention to him. Him wearing the ring could only result in losing the game. But you had to do something, you wanted to win. Well, you just didn't want your dear husband to win, but that was almost the same. 

“That would be too obvious,” he replied with a shake of his head.

“Buy a few more and say you're copying Lewis,” you offered with a cheeky grin. 

He shook his head with a laugh, then took a deep breath. “And what do I get if they don't notice?” 

You had thought a lot about this, because you knew it had to be something big, something he really wanted. And there was only one thing that came to your mind. “You get two kids,” you told him casually. 

But Lando wasn't stupid, he knew this was the moment to negotiate. “Hmm… You know I want a big family. Three and I'll do it.”

He would lose anyway, so why would you say no? “All right, three. But if I win, we'll only have one,” you reminded him.

He nodded before leaning down to kiss you. “I’ll win, so you can start picking names,” he said with a confident grin.

You: Sorry, babe, you officially lost the bet. <link>

A few seconds later your phone rang, and you answered Lando’s call with a satisfied smile on your face. You just wanted to rub it in his face, you wanted him to know he lost the bet. To be honest, ever since you’d seen this post, you’d been thinking about what to ask for, and a soft launch of your relationship sounded quite nice. 

“I didn’t lose,” he said right away. 

“You saw the post, someone spotted the ring.”

To your surprise, Lando started to laugh, a carefree sound that made it clear he was sure he was winning this. “Do you want me to remind you that you’re not here with me right now? And that video of us was recorded during the summer break in Greece. The bet was about me wearing the ring this weekend. So no, sweetheart, you definitely did not win this one,” he explained, and you could see that smug smirk on his face. 

“Still, the original bet–”

He tutted to interrupt you. “No, no, you changed the rules with the ring. I won. No one noticed it this weekend.”

“Let’s call it a tie,” you tried, although you knew he had you in a corner now. 

“I want to talk about the prize,” he began, waiting until he heard you hum to let him go on. “We agreed that if I win, we’ll have three kids, if you win, we’ll only have one. If it’s a tie, then fine, let’s settle with two.”

You remained silent for a while as you thought about this. He was right, it would be only fair to reach a compromise, and in this case it involved the number of your future children. If it was a tie, then two was the logical conclusion, there was no reason to argue with him. So, you took a deep breath that you let out slowly until you gathered your thoughts. “All right, fine. And what about us? I mean, our relationship. Do we keep it a secret, or…?”

“What do you want? If you’d rather not be in the spotlight, we can deny everything if there'll be a bigger buzz about that tweet,” he said kindly, his patience with you painfully obvious. 

But you didn’t want to hide, you wanted things to be out in the open now. “I’d say let’s do a soft launch with mysterious posts for a while. But if you have a different idea, I’m open to it,” you assured him. 

Lando let out a thoughtful hum. “We have a short break now, soooooo… Okay, we do the soft launch, but you come to the next race with me, as yourself, not disguised as a McLaren team member, and we’ll wear our rings and everything.”

“That’s pretty much a hard launch.”

There was a scoff on the other end of the line. “You get almost two weeks of soft launch, what more do you want? Come on, I need you by my side,” he begged you sweetly. 

You agreed. There was no way you could say no to him.

liked by oscarpiastri, martingarrix and 522,145 others

landonorris: My wife, the queen of the house 😍🥰❤️

tagged: yourusername

view all comments

yourusername: LANDO!

⤷ landonorris: Yes, love?

⤷ yourusername: You said you'll give me two weeks. That's it, you're sleeping on the couch when you get home.

oscarpiastri: What did I miss? Last time we talked, you were chronically single.

⤷ landonorris: I don't know what you're talking about, I've been happily married for over half a year.

⤷ user1: WHAT?!

user2: Lando being married was not on my bingo card.

maxverstappen1: My wedding invitation must have been lost in the mail.

⤷ landonorris: Sorry, it was just the two of us.

user3: I'm so happy, you deserve all the love!!!

user4: We have a new WAG, woo-hoo! I already like her. But please yourusername don't make him sleep on the couch 😭

⤷ yourusername: I'll reconsider that decision.

[lexabitxh]

S.W | Drunk Confession

summary: y/n gets a bit too drunk, and confesses her feelings unknowingly to sam winchester.

perspective: third person.

word count: 1837

The night was young and the Winchesters & l/n had finished up a case that took several days. It felt good to win. It was a pride and joy feeling they got to feel other than guilt and disappointment from other unsuccessful cases.

"Another round, on me."

Y/n said as she signaled the bartender and pointed at their empty shot glasses. It's been a long day and genuinely, they all needed this. A moment to unwind after a long week of hunting.

"You sure you haven't had enough?"

Sam said as he looked a little concerned. Y/n scoffed, "Now I understand why your brother calls you so uptight. Stop being such a chick, Sam" she said, while taking down another shot of rum.

Sam felt the need to be the one sober for the night. Usually he'd drink a few shared beers with Dean, but being that Y/n was tagging along, it required someone responsible to take care of the two. Dean let out a chuckled, "I'm starting to like her" he said, pointing at her while popping a fry into his mouth. Sam rolled his eyes in annoyance at the two's behavior, they always acted so childish.

•

"Dean, you're drunk-"

"I'm not drunk, I'm awesome" Dean slurred his words, laughing as he clinked his glass of beer with Y/n. They've been drinking for hours and slowly but surely they were starting to feel the effects of the alcohol. Sam shook his head in disappointment, not sure what to do anymore.

"Stop being such a party pooper, Sam and loosen up a little. Just have one drink with us." she insisted while playfully nudging his shoulder with hers.

You'd think since you can't beat them, you might as well join them... but being that Sam was... well Sam, he'd spend the rest of his night looking after the two, hoping they wouldn't get themselves into any trouble.

•

'Na-na-na, come on

Na-na-na, come on'

S&M was blasting through the speakers, while Sam drove the car back to their motel. Dean sat in the passenger seat, his window rolled down as he was swaying his upper body to the beat, bopping his head to the rhythm. Y/n sat in the back, her hands in the air while singing to the top of her lungs.

She could feel the liquor coming up to surface, but managed to contain herself together. She knew if she were to throw up inside the impala, Dean would kill her himself and dispose of the body without a sweat.

'Love is great, love is fine (oh, oh, oh, oh, oh)

Out the box, outta line (oh, oh, oh, oh, oh)'

Sam kept glancing from Dean to Y/n, laughing just a little. He's never seen this side of Dean before. It was nice seeing him all loose and happy, it's as if everything they've done in life so far, all the good and bad things had disappeared for the time being.

"'Cause I may be bad, but I'm perfectly good at it. Sex in the air, I don't care, I love the smell of it!!" Y/n sang while Dean tried his very best, but fail miserably as most of his words came out sounding gibberish.

Sam contained his laughter as he kept glancing through the review mirror, watching Y/n dance with a drink in her hand, her eyes closed for the most part, but even so, she looked enticing. The way she was feeling herself. Her lips, her eyes, the was she felt the music through her body.

At one point he lost control of the wheel, causing every one of them to jerk just a little. "Eyes in the road, buddy" Dean said as he took another swig from his beer. Sam looked back only to find that Y/n was no longer in his eyes-of-sight.

"Y/n?" He did a quick look-over only to find her slumped in the backseat, passed out. "Great."

•

Sam pulled into the motels parking lot, putting the car in park before turning off the engine. He sat there for a moment, watching Dean struggle to get out before in doing so. To his surprise, Dean had somehow managed to get inside their motel room without a problem. Sam shook his head and he got out to check on Y/n.

"Y/n?"

He had opened her side door and peeped inside, lightly shaking her awake, but she barely moved except making a few grunting noises.

"Mmh??"

"We're back at the motel... c'mon, let's go" he said softly. He knew he wouldn't get anywhere anytime soon with her current state, so with that being he helped her out. "Careful" he said as he grabbed her by her waist and wrapped one arm around his neck.

"Ok, ok, let's make this easier for you" he said as he scooped her up bridal style and carried her back inside. He used his foot to close the door on the way in, looking around for Dean before noticing him dead asleep on the floor.

"Alright... here we go..."

Said Sam as he gently placed her on her bed. He grabbed a blanket and placed it on her as he then removing her boots. Before he could walk away, Y/n grabbed him by his arm.

"Sam..."

Sam stood there awkwardly, looking down at her as the touch of her hand made him feel all sorts of feelings.

"Yeah?"

"Thank you..." she mumbled as she was trying so hard to open her eyes. "You're a good friend" she slurred, causing Sam to chuckle lightly. "Of course" he replied, "Get some rest."

"Also, you're a cute, Sam." she said, which caught him by surprise. "W-what?"

"You. Are. Cute..." she whispered, "and stupid." Sam was taken aback from her last comment, narrowing his brows together as he tried so hard not to smile. "But I like your stupid face. It's so stupid. It's so... I like it. Can I touch it?" she said while attempting to reach for his face, but was far from her touch.

He laughed a little. "You're drunk, Y/n" he said as he brushing her hair to the side.

"Yes I am. And I'm hopelessly in love with Sam Winchester... but it's a secret. Sam can't find out about this" She mumbled.

Sam could feel his cheek burning up about the confession. A smile so wide he could hardly contain his excitement. "Alright, it's our little secrete then" he reassured her.

"Pshhh"

"Shhhh"

He gestured as he smiled down at her.

"Goodnight, y/n" he said, hoping to get one in return, but she had quickly fallen asleep. He stood there for a little longer, watching her sleep peacefully. He shook his head, smiling like an idiot before going to bed. He figured he'd take the opportunity to enjoy the entire bed to himself, considering that Dean had taken the floor.

•

Y/n had woken up to the room spinning, her eyes having a hard time adjusting to the sunlight that shun in her face. She looked around the room. Dean no where to be seen and Sam sitting by the small table, who seems to be reading something off his laptop.

"What time is it?"

She said as she didn't remember how she gotten to bed last night. Sam looked up and smiled, "It's one in the afternoon. Don't worry, there's no case for the day" he assured her. "There's some ibuprofen and a glass of water right next to you" he pointed.

"You're a life saver"

She said, reaching for it as she popped the pills and swallowed it down with the glass of water. The water had quench her thirst, but she still felt hungover. "What happened last night?" She'd asked.

"You mean you don't remember?"

Y/n shook her head, "the last thing I remember was singing in the car to Rihanna. Which now thinking  back to it, that was pretty embarrassing" she laughed a little. "you have no idea what you did last night" Sam chuckled mischievously, causing Y/n to worry.

"Samuel. What did I do?"

She asked, unsure of what she might've done that could be so bad other than having a karaoke with Dean Winchester. "I was promised not to tell" he said while gesturing his lips sealed.

"Sammy!" She yelled in annoyance, kneeling on her bed as she was intrigued of what she had done last night. Endless of possibilities had ran through her mind, but none that she could remember of. Sam shook his head, a cheeky smile on his lips as he didn't say a word. "C'mon, Sam! Just tell me!" She pleaded.

Sam knew how'd she react if she knew what she'd done last night, and he didn't wanted to put her through that embarrassment. Though there was nothing to be embarrassed about because if he was too being honest, he felt the same way about her.

"Well, if you really wanna know..." he said as he closed his laptop, "you said my face looks stupid" he said pausing before going on. "And that you liked my stupid face."

It all came back to her. She felt her body go numbed and her cheek flush with a bright burning sensation of red. "You remembered now" Sam teased, causing her to grab ahold of a pillow and shoving her face into it. In that moment, she wanted to die.

"Oh. My. God!"

She cried as she got up from her bed. "Sam, I'm so sorry. I-I was drunk, and it felt easier for me to confess... I didn't want you to find out this way. How embarrassing!" She cried as she buried her face into the palm her hands.

Sam quickly got up. "Hey, it's alright" he reassured her, gently removing her hands from her face and holding them in his.

"I'm glad you told me. Cause I don't think I'd ever have the courage to tell you how I felt" he said. "You, too, have a stupid, cute face" he quoted her, laughing just a little. "And I like that" he added.

"You do?"

Sam nodded as he gotten closer to her, closing the gap between them. "I like you, Y/n." He said as he leaned down to place a soft kiss against her lips. All her worries had melted away in that moment of bliss. She'd dream of this very exact moment, but she'd never imagined this is how it'd happen. Over a drunk confession.

They were soon utterly interrupted by Dean, who had bursted into the room with bags of food. "Woah, what I miss?" He said as he had caught them by surprise.

Y/n and Sam looked at each other, a shade of pink on their cheeks as they held hands like kids in love.

[sturn-saturn]

The Vegas Affair

pairing: matt x fem!reader

warnings: drinking, dry humping, that’s it i think???

a/n: in honor of the triplets turning 21 me and @flouvela collabed on this little fic. be nice pls and happy reading!!

WORD COUNT: 1,803

people always say, "what happens in vegas, stays in vegas."

and boy, were they right.

the whole crew was here. me, sam, colby, tara, jake, johnnie, larray, nick, matt, and chris. we're all here in vegas to celebrate the triplets' 21st birthday. they originally weren't going to do anything, but you only turn 21 once, right?

we all got settled into our hotel, and i'm rooming with matt on this trip; while getting ready for the night, he got a call from the front desk saying the party bus was here to pick us up.

matt and i go out into the hall, knock on our friends' doors, and run to the elevator, telling them the bus is here. i'm super excited because i've never been to parties like this.

we finally pile onto the party bus as the music fills our ears. matt pulls out his digital camera, a relic in the age of smartphones. he's determined to capture every wild moment that happens tonight.

though their career is based on social media, and they put out videos every week, matt wanted to vlog something for him and his brothers to remember: a night with the people he loves.

larray pops the champagne, which catches us all by surprise. "alright bitches! it's time we take over vegas!" we all cheer and hold our glasses out for him to fill.

jake, being jake, gets up and messes with the stripper pole, with johnnie smacking his ass to hype him up while we let out a laugh.

tara and i were in charge of documenting the night for the three boys, taking turns to capture the moments they may want to look back on.

the bus suddenly stopped, signaling our arrival at the nightclub.

this nightclub felt like walking into another world. the strobes of light switching from side to side, the music blasting in our ears, the colorful, sparkly outfits the party girls are wearing, and so much more.

the crew and i stood still to take it all in, and we looked at each other. "i don't know about y'all, but i'm gonna get fucked up!" larray yells, pushing past us as he gets a hold of nick's hand.

after four rounds of shots, we are all completely drunk. i take a hold of matt's camera and turn it around to capture this moment.

"how you feeling party boy?!" i yell over the music.

"i f-feel fine." he yells back, stuttering. "holy fuck. y/n... AM I DRUNK?!"

"you absolutely are," i laugh at him.

he reaches into the pocket of his pants and pulls out his shades that he had on earlier in the day. he puts them on and smiles at the camera, crossing his arms.

"WOAHH LOOK AT MR. COOL GUY OVER HERE!" chris yells as i point the camera at him.

i'm not sure what it is; it may be the alcohol rushing through my body, or maybe the crush i've had on matt for years, but the tattoos that cover his arms, the all-black outfit he has on, and the shades resting on the bridge of his nose are making me feel the things i've been trying to ignore for so long.

"you look so hot," i mumble.

"what was that?" matt asks, as he stands up, hovering over my small frame.

"o-oh, i just said it's so hot in here," i let out an awkward giggle.

"wanna get some air?" he asks, tilting his head to the side.

"no, no, it's okay. i'll be fine," i say, smiling up at him.

matt and i catch up with the rest of our friends, and we have the time of our lives. at that moment, all i can think about is how grateful i am to have found such amazing people.

we returned to the hotel and hugged each other goodnight, heading to our rooms. i place matt's digital camera on the desk as matt and i flopped on our shared bed. i grabbed my head as i winced from the pain from hitting my head on the pillow.

"holy fuck, i feel like my head is about to explode," he slurs.

"i know exactly how you feel right now," i replied, eyes shut.

"hey, y/n," matt calls out. i looked at him, "hey, matt," i replied, copying the tone of his voice.

"you looked really pretty tonight," he says, looking at me.

my cheeks flush into a rosy pink as our eyes meet, my heart beating faster than ever.

"you just looked so carefree and so beautiful. i love seeing you have fun and just be you," he whispers, his hand reaching out to tuck my stray hairs away from my face.

"matty, are you confessing to me right now?" i joke, to cover up how nervous i am at that moment.

"maybe i am," his eyes, holding an intense gaze.

"you're drunk, you fool," i say, averting my gaze away from him.

"so are you, y/n." matt looks deep into my eyes and smashes his lips against mine. my mind took a second to realize what was happening before i kissed back.

he hovers over me as i hook my ankles around his waist, flipping him over. i straddle him, rocking my hips swiftly against his clothed cock, the friction of his jeans sending me to the edge.

he grabs my hips, rutting his cock against my pussy. i let out a choked moan, "feels so good." matt licks a stripe on my neck and i feel him smirk, "does it?" he repeats the same action, filling the room with sounds of heavy breathing and me chanting matt's name like it's a mantra.

unbeknownst to us, the digital camera is still filming and caught every sound we made.

"mine," matt whispers in my ear. the word echoing then the world turns black.

i wake up to the sun shining through the blinds of the hotel room. my head was pounding from all the alcohol i consumed last night. i turn over to see matt's side of the bed empty. i get up from my spot and walk to the bathroom.

"oh good, you're awake," matt says, as he spits the toothpaste in his mouth into the sink. "breakfast ends in an hour, so we should head downstairs soon."

i nod, feeling a little off. matt picked up on it and asked, "y/n, what's wrong? did you sleep alright?"

"i don't know but something feels... off? i don't know how to explain it," i replied, scratching my head as i sit on the bathroom counter, waiting for matt to finish his morning routine.

"maybe, you just need some food in you, sweetheart," he says, smiling softly.

"yeah, maybe," i reply, returning his smile.

after breakfast, matt and i decided to go to nick and chris' room with the digital camera to transfer the footage into nick's laptop. though they aren't uploading it we want to see the affairs from last night on a bigger screen.

"alright, this should transfer onto my laptop in like five minutes," nick claps his hands together.

once the footage is transferred, nick presses play, and we all sit on the couch of the hotel room with our eyes glued to the screen.

there she was, tara with a mic in her hands drunkenly singing the 90's song, "always be my baby" by mariah carey. we all laugh when nick picks up a mic and joins her.

the second clip is larray on the sidewalk, teaching sam and colby "his cool dance moves," as he liked to call them.

following clip was matt and i, attempting a makeshift dance routine and engaging in a heartfelt conversation about our friendship and the future.

"oh my god," matt groaned, burying his face in his hands as we all laughed.

"awh, matty, i'm glad you're my best friend too," i tease him, rubbing his back.

the next clip was matt with his shades on again and attempting to do some michael jackson moves with his leather jacket on.

"ok, guys, enough. this is so embarrassing," he says, laughing.

"wait, there's one more clip," chris says, pointing to the laptop.

we all shift our direction to the screen.

"wait, turn it up," nick says.

all our faces drop in unison as our ears are filled with moans and groans that obviously belong to matt and me.

"no, no, no, no," i say, getting up and running out of the hotel room.

i run to our room and locked myself in the bathroom, crying because of the embarrassment i felt.

i suddenly hear a knock on the door. "y/n... it's me, matt. can i come in?"

i unlock the door to let him in and he closes it behind him.

"y/n. what do you feel right now? hm?" he asks, crouching in front of me on the floor.

"i don't know. I feel embarrassed that your brothers saw that, and I didn't know the camera was still on. i'm so sorry, matt," i rambled as i sob into my hands.

"hey, look at me," he says, lifting my chin with his finger and wiping my tears away.

"you have nothing to be sorry for sweetheart. your feelings are valid. is there anything i can do to make you feel better?"

"i don't know. it's just.. i-i've liked you for so long, and maybe last night was a mistake, maybe it wasn't. if you want to forget about it, i can do that. i can act like it never happened."

"hey, hey, hey y/n. i enjoyed last night. i just want to make sure you're alright. the camera being on was just a mistake, i'm not upset about that, alright? and i've liked you for a while too, you know," he smiles at me, trying his best to comfort me.

we sit on the bathroom floor for a bit before we hear nick and chris on the other side of the door asking if they can come in as well.

matt unlocks the door to the bathroom and the other two walk in.

"are you okay, y/n?" nick asks.

"yeah, just a little embarrassed, i guess," i say looking down.

"well, you know what they say 'what happens in vegas, stays in vegas'" chris says, a smug smile on his face.

"oh, fuck off!" me, nick, and matt yell, looking at chris and we all burst out into laughter.

one thing i'll forever be grateful for is having these three boys in my life. we made a silent vow to cherish the everlasting memories we made last night with our favorite people.

well, i guess vegas have brought us all closer in more ways than one, if you know what i mean.

[woodle-isbae]

Could you please do anything that's male reader X Joost? There are almost no fics with male reader I'm dying out here 😭

One night only

Fratboy!Joost klein x fratboy!reader

Warnings: Frat boys! , drinking , smoking , smut , PiA , unprotected sex (wrap it b4 u tap it) , joost is a jock and reader is a theater kid , bottom!Joost , Top reader

Drunken bodies all over eachother , music blasting from the speakers and people basically black out drunk outside

You and a few friends hosted one of the craziest parties of the semester , free entry and plus ones allowed. You even had three? Four? Of your teachers there aswell , to "chaperone"

"You all enjoying the party!!?"

The DJ you hired hyping up everyone , including you , who was equally drunk as everyone else on the property

Heading to the kitchen to get another drink , moving past the drunk girls and horny couples grinding against eachother , slightly cringing at them

"They're fucking disgusting-"

You whipped your head around at the sudden voice behind you , it was a blue eyed blond man , not much taller than you but had some height.

He had to be a jock

"Oh..uh, yeah..but im not shocked , kinda expected it"

"Still disgusting."

There was an awkward silence between you two before he gulped down his drink and introduced himself as 'Joost'.

Joost Klein , played rugby - star captain- he's well known amongst the people in your year. An icon and playboy , usually hopping from girl to girl .

Unlike you , a total theatere kid , even for your little hobby you were very well known , basically on the same level as Joost in popularity

It was rare that you guys were near eachother , and even more rare for you guys to be talking

An hour passed of you guys talking and playing beer games , eventually settling down in your bedroom balcony, sharing a joint and taking in the cool summer air , the muffled sounds of music and cheers comming from downstairs

"Have you ever...nevermin-"

"C'mon Joostie , don't be shy"

Your interjection catching him off guard as he stared at you for a moment , huffing to himself as he turned a faint shade of pink , taking a gulp of his drink before he looked you in the eye , taking in a breath

"Have you ever had sex. . .with a guy?"

There was a silence between you two , his pink face turning red , embarrassed by his question , biting on his lip.

"I'm sorry it was a du-"

"Yeah , I have"

The silence returning before he continued his questioning

"How was it-? , like did you take it or-"

"I'm more of a giver , it's a fun experience tho"

"Ah..I see.."

You finally turned over to look at him , head resting on your hand , which was on the mini table , scanning his face for a bit.

"You wanna try it out?"

° ☆ °

"Okay..take a breath in , it's gonna hurt a bit"

"Y-yeah okay-"

You currently had him face down into the pillow , fully exposed and your finger lubed up.You gave him a blow job prior , just to relax his nerves a bit

You slowly prodded your finger inside him , pausing halfway to give him time to adjust before you put your finger in fully , giving him a few minutes to get used to the feeling

"Y'ready?"

He mumbled a shaky yes , nodding his heads aswell. His body jerking as you began to move your finger inside him , searching for that spongey spot.

"W-wait..ah-!"

He choked out a moan ,his body trembled and legs shook as he came.

There is it

"Haven't even finished stretching you out yet."

"What just happened-?"

He turned over to look at you , still catching his breath. . .only to be met with a sly smirk from you

"Don't stress it , just have fun"

He was slightly weirded out by how quick he came , allowing himself to relax once more and turn over , stuffing his face in the pillow as you continued stretching him out to your liking

"Okay. . .I'm gonna enter now..take a breath in"

Lining yourself up and slowly entering , his breath hitched as his body trembled

"You'll tell me when I can start moving."

Bottoming out in him , steading his hips against yours as you caught your breath , waiting for him to adjust

"You can-. . .you can move"

"I'll be slow"

You began moving your hips at a steady and slow rhythm , trying your best to make him comfortable.

After a while your movements became more erratic, your grip on his hips nearly bruising as your thrusts were animalistic , knocking a yelp and whine out of the larger man bellow you

"I-ah!-I'm gonna c..Um!"

The way he was barely coherent and rambling out profanities and pleading for more had you at your edge , his back resting against your chest while your hips continued their movement which was becoming unstable

"C'mon Joostie , let it out-shit.-y'can do it"

Your words of praise was just enough to get him to his breaking point , he shuddered and tightened against you , spilling all om the sheets underneath him before his body gave out and fell limp from overstimulation

You pulled out quickly and came on his lower back , catching your breath as you layed next to him.

The world comming back to the both of you , the cheering and music that was erupting from the party still going on downstairs

You went to go get a warm cloth and a bottle of water from your mini fridge, cleaning him up and helping him get his boxers back on , along with your own

"Y'have fun?"

"I'd do it again..definitely"

[daisyvisions]

Unspoken Words (Pt. 3)

➺ Pairing: best friend!Sangyeon x afab!reader x enemy!Hyunjae

➺ Summary: If someone were to tell you that you'd be in a fake relationship with the person you despise the most just to make your best friend jealous, you would've laughed in their face. But here you are... caught up in this exact situation.

➺ Word Count: 7.4K

➺ Warnings: Smut (18+, minors DNI) very angsty but with a happy ending, jealousy, confessions, some arguments, mentions of being drunk, heated makeouts, groping, unprotected sex, creampie, oral (f! receiving), slight masturbation, marking, neck biting, slight dry humping, pet names (sweetheart) lots and lots of sexual tension y'all (pls let me know if I missed anything!)

➺ A/N:  Okay hear me out... it wasn't supposed to take this long for me to write this I swear 😭 but life got in the way huhu but anyways WOW 7.4K words? this is the longest fic I've ever written! This is the last part of this series and while I'm sad it has to come to an end, I'm just very proud of this series as a whole! Proofread once, I hope you enjoy this last part!

➺ Part 1 | Part 2

➺ Network and tags: @deoboyznet @winterchimez @snowflakewhispers @aimeecarreros and the anon that reminded me to write for it bless you I hope you see this!

As your body sways to the rhythm of the music blasting through the speakers, you can't help but become immersed in the kaleidoscope of colors moving around you. You finally feel relaxed enough after a couple of drinks and slowly let everything around you move through you like an ocean wave.

It's been a while since you've been this loose, especially with all the college requirements piling on you like bricks. You needed this, especially since it was your birthday. You deserved to have a break and not think of any responsibilities for a moment and have fun with the person you adore the most… your best friend. Speaking of best friend, where the hell is he right now?

Your mind pulls you away from your reverie as your eyes frantically search for the man who was with you all night. The man who had your whole birthday planned out and dragged you to this place. And just like a moth to a flame, you spot him easily across the room sitting by the bar as he watches you with his warm eyes, the growing smile on his face as soon as his eyes finally meet yours.

Without hesitation, you make your way towards him, weaving through the sea of bodies. You stop right in front of where he sits, your body wedged between his legs as you place your hands on his shoulders for stability. His eyes grow wide as you slowly lean closer to him, wondering what you might do next.

"C'mon Sangyeon, dance with me!" Your mouth is dangerously close to his ear as you try your best to speak above the reverberating music around you.

"I think I'll pass. I'm good right here," he responds as his hand holds your waist to stop you from swaying.

"You can't say no, it's my birthday, remember?" you remind him, your tone playful yet insistent.

Sangyeon hesitates for a moment, his gaze flickering between you and the crowded dance floor. You can see the internal struggle playing out on his face. He lets out a heavy sigh, remembering that he was the one who set that rule for the evening to begin with. It was the condition he had suggested in order for you to say yes to going out tonight.

"Okay… let's dance," he sighs, quickly chugging down the rest of his drink before allowing you to lead him onto the dance floor.

As soon as you step foot on the dance floor, Sangyeon grabs your wrist and makes you twirl for him. You laugh at the silly gesture but continue to dance with him and let the music move through both of you.

He laughs at how loose-limbed your movements have become but still tries to match your energy nonetheless despite not being much of a dancer. Sangyeon can't help but smile as butterflies soar throughout his body.

He can't believe how lucky he is to have you in his life, wishing for moments like this to never end.

Later on in the night as you both walk back to your apartment, Sangyeon wraps his arm around you, trying to keep your balance as you yap about anything and everything. For some, this would be considered bothersome, having to be the caretaker of their tipsy friend. But to Sangyeon, it doesn't matter as long as it was you.

Aside from getting you home safe, all he can focus on is the beautiful sound of your voice and the way you hold onto him closely. The smell of your perfume was far more intoxicating than the drinks you downed tonight.

When you both finally make it to your front door, you suddenly spin around to hug Sangyeon tightly. "This was the best birthday ever, thank you so much Sangyeon," you mumble against his shoulder.

"Anything for my girl," he smiles, returning the same hug you're giving him.

His cheek presses against your head, taking all the strength he could muster to not kiss your temple. You both hug each other for a little while longer, not wanting this moment to end. As soon as you reluctantly pull away from one another, Sangyeon chuckles at the tousled appearance of your hair.

"Here, let me just—" Sangyeon's hand reaches for the loose strand of hair and gently tucks it behind your ear. You impulsively press your cheek onto his palm, letting the heat of his skin cradle you as you sigh dreamily.

You look up at him with these sultry eyes, and Sangyeon can't help but feel a shiver run down his spine. This kind of thing has never happened between the two of you. He tries his best to ignore the sudden warmth blooming at the back of his neck but fails as soon as his eyes gravitate towards your lips almost touching his palm.

"Sangyeon?"

Beep, beep, beep! The sound of your alarm rings as you wake up from your dream. You find yourself smiling as you open your eyes, but reality hits you like a lightning strike as you soon realize who was the male lead of your dream.

You aren't upset because the dream ended so abruptly, but rather the scenario reminds you of a time when you and Sangyeon were happy. When you two were still friends and not in the shit show you're currently in where he makes you feel like a total stranger.

Before you start wallowing in your own sadness, you rub your eyes and immediately get up from your bed, stretch, and check your phone. Today, you're assigned to check the inventory and the progress of everything the team needs for the play next week. While that sounds easy to do, it also means you have to quality check and sort out all the props, costumes, and other items before the tech rehearsal.

Today is definitely going to be a long one, but at least it will give you enough distraction from overanalyzing that dream, right?

You slowly exhale a sigh of frustration as you continue untangling the mess of rope on your lap. Not only have you been trying to straighten them out for the past hour or so, but you also start to feel a numbing pain in your tailbone as you sit cross-legged on the stage. It was a mistake positioning yourself here as you figure out this task, but at least you were a few more tasks away from calling it a day.

"Didn't expect to see you here—" A deep voice startles you. You were so focused on unraveling the rope from its tangled knots that you didn't pay attention to the creaking sound of the auditorium's entrance.

You clutch your chest, trying to calm your heartbeat while your eyes search for the source of the voice. You'd think finding who the voice belonged to would calm your nerves, but you suddenly feel your heart pounding harder than it did a few seconds ago when your eyes finally lock in on the other person's face. Oh god… Sangyeon.

"Uh—" You try to swallow down the non-existent lump stuck in your throat. "The rest of the team couldn't make it today so I volunteered to help…"

"I know, I signed up with you weeks ago to check on inventory, remember?" He awkwardly laughs. And in that moment, it only occurred to you that you did in fact sign up with Sangyeon for this weeks ago, the whole rift between you two making you forget that little detail.

"R-right…" You turn away to focus on the task at hand before he spots the embarrassed look on your face, quietly praying that he will decide to just leave you to your work.

But apparently, the universe had other plans for you today.

Sangyeon starts walking down the center aisle of the auditorium. The sound of his footsteps is so slow and gentle it's more nerve-wracking than any sound you've ever heard. You really do try your best to ignore him, but that alone starts to become difficult as the faint scent of his warm cologne starts to invade your senses.

"Need a hand?" Sangyeon offers, taking a step closer to the edge of the stage.

"No, I've got it," you quickly reply as your eyebrows furrow in frustration at a particularly difficult knot.

Sangyeon chuckles at your stubbornness, finding it cute rather than annoying. Suddenly, he places his hands on the edge of the stage and pulls himself up, his figure now closer to you than ever before as he sits right across from you.

"Here—" He grabs the tumbleweed of rope from your hands and starts to untangle the mess effortlessly.

"You were always a stubborn one, huh?" he teases, his eyes meeting yours for a brief moment.

"I only learn from the best," you reply, sharing a slightly awkward laugh together.

"Come on," Sangyeon says, his voice softer now. "I'll help you so you don't stay up too late."

At first, you were worried about how awkward it would be to have Sangyeon around you for a couple more hours considering everything that has happened between you two. But much to your surprise, it was like nothing happened at all, as if you two were just picking up where your friendship had left off.

The first couple of minutes or so were obviously weird, but as soon as Sangyeon made a joke about an incident that happened backstage weeks ago with two of the crew members, you couldn't help but burst out laughing. From that point on, you two were talking nonstop as you tried to untangle the rope together. And for the first time in weeks, you both felt that missing part of you become whole again.

By the time you both finished straightening out the rope, he asked you what other tasks you had left so he could work on some while you did the other half. You both got up to do your tasks and met back at the same spot where you sat cross-legged from one another to finish retouching the paint on some props.

As the night went on, Sangyeon couldn't help but steal glances at you as you focused on painting the item in your hand. A warm, fuzzy feeling engulfed his entire body, remembering how it felt to be around you like this again.

He suddenly snapped back into reality as you let out a loud sigh as you brush the loose hair from your cheek with the back of your hand. A light streak of paint smudges your skin, making Sangyeon chuckle at the sight of it.

"What's so funny?" You looked at him quizzically. Sangyeon couldn't help but smile at your confused face. Without hesitation, he put down the brush in his hand and leaned closer to you.

"You've got a little something—" He held your head steady with his palm as his thumb tried to remove the smudge of paint on your cheek.

You suddenly became aware of how close you were to Sangyeon. You could see every detail of his face. Your heart began to race as you realized he was staring at you intently, his breath catching in his throat.

"T-there. Just a bit of paint, that's all—" Sangyeon stammered, his eyes never leaving your face. Before he could lower his hand, you impulsively grabbed his wrist a little more firmly than you had hoped, instantly missing the warmth of his palm against your cheek.

You melt at the touch of his caress, eyes closing as his warm hand envelops your skin. You turn your head slightly for your lips to lightly touch his inner wrist. Your heart starts pounding out of your chest; it's as if this moment seems too familiar to you.

"Sangyeon?" You say his name under your breath, wondering if he could hear how loud your heart is beating in this moment. Wondering if his heart is also beating as loud as yours.

Sangyeon's lips part, his mind running a mile a minute as he tries to find the right words to say. How can he, especially when you look at him with deep longing? After everything that has happened between you two?

He sees your eyes falter with his lack of response as you try to slowly pull away from him. Regret starts to consume him, knowing that this would be the last time he'd ever get close to you again.

No, he can't lose you, not like this. It's either he does it now or regrets this for the rest of his life.

"Fuck it—" Sangyeon grips the back of your neck and pulls you towards him, your lips suddenly pressed against his.

You impulsively place your hand on his chest and push him away, scanning his face for his reaction. But all you can see is how dilated his pupils are, looking at you with an intense gaze you have never seen before. Suddenly, the air around becomes stuffy and surges with desire all at once.

Without a word, you grab the fabric of his shirt and pull him towards you desperately as you smash your lips against his once more. Sangyeon responds with the same level of desperation as he cups your face between his warm hands and presses a deeper kiss onto you. He groans at the sound of your faint whimper as he hastily pushes the props and other items that stand between you two to the side, not giving a damn if they get all messed up.

His body hovers over yours as he leans closer to you, gently guiding your back onto the wooden floor of the stage. Your hands try to cling onto his broad shoulders, but as soon as you lay completely flat beneath Sangyeon, you find yourself grabbing onto the back of his hair and pulling him closer than ever before.

He inserts his knee between your legs, causing them to split apart while he tries his best not to place his entire weight onto you. Your core accidentally brushes against his thigh as you both adjust yourselves, gasping into his mouth at the delicious friction below. Sangyeon wastes no time slipping his tongue between your lips, moaning at how your tongues move together so perfectly. He needed to taste more of you or else he would go insane.

As Sangyeon's lips pull away from yours, they start to make a trail from your jaw down to the column of your neck. Each kiss feels as if he's leaving permanent marks on you despite not actually sucking on your skin. Your faint whimpers and sighs of satisfaction encourage him to keep going. He was so lost in the moment that he had forgotten where you were. But that didn't matter to him at all.

All he could think about was having you in his arms again.

Just as things were starting to become even more heated between you two, a loud ringing echoes in the air. The source was coming from your phone, which was just a few inches away from Sangyeon. At first, you tried to ignore it, too caught up in the sensation of Sangyeon's lips on your neck, his hands inching dangerously close to areas that made your core throb in excitement. But when the phone kept on ringing, you couldn't avoid the curiosity any longer.

You reach for your phone, trying to calm yourself before answering so that whoever was calling you wouldn't suspect anything odd on your end (but that alone was difficult as Sangyeon deepened the kisses on your neck).

"Hello?" Your phone fumbles against your ear as you try to hold it steady. "Oh, Hyunjae, I was just—"

As soon as you said his name, Sangyeon froze. It was as if a bucket of ice water had been dumped over him, suddenly bringing him back to reality. He chuckles under his breath, mentally slapping himself for getting so carried away with you like this that he forgot the person thats between you and him.

Sangyeon lets go of your waist and abruptly gets up to straighten his clothes and hair. Without warning, he hops off the stage and walks towards the exit of the auditorium. You try to process what the fuck is happening all the while maintaining your current conversation with Hyunjae over the phone.

"I'll call you back, Hyunjae. Give me a sec—" You get up and try to follow Sangyeon quickly.

By the time you burst through the theater's doors, you see Sangyeon walking to the nearest fountain to take a sip and splash water on his face. You walk towards him carefully as he lets out a sigh of frustration and runs his fingers through his hair.

"Sangyeon?" you call out softly, reaching out to touch his shoulder. But he flinches away from your touch, causing a massive ache in your chest.

"This... this was a mistake. I shouldn't have come here," he replies, his voice cold and distant.

"What? Sangyeon, can you please just—"

"It's nothing," he interrupts you.

"It's not nothing. Tell me."

"Seriously, it's nothing. Leave it alone."

"Sangyeon, cut the bullshit," you snap, your patience wearing thin.

"What?" he asks, his tone defensive.

"You've been acting weird towards me ever since the day after my birthday, and I want to know why," you say, your voice rising with frustration. "Why have you been avoiding me? Making me feel like shit?"

Something in Sangyeon seems to snap at your words. "You want to know what it is?" he practically shouts. "Hyunjae. He's my fucking problem. Doesn't help that I see you two everywhere I go and practically hear you two at each other like animals!"

"I didn't even know you were coming over that day!" you retort. "This all wouldn't have happened if you had just not cut me off like that. It fucking hurt, Sangyeon. Then now you can't just suddenly walk into my life again like nothing happened, kiss me, and expect everything to be okay!"

"You wouldn't understand," Sangyeon says, his voice suddenly tired.

"Understand what exactly?" you press.

"I—" Sangyeon struggles to get the words out of his throat.

"That night, your birthday party," he says slowly, searching your face. "You don't remember anything at all?"

"Stop with the cryptic shit and just spit it out!" you say, your patience completely gone.

"Fine!" Sangyeon explodes. "You want to know why I've been avoiding you this whole time?"

You nod, bracing yourself for whatever he's about to say.

"You kissed me."

His words hit you like a train. "W-what?"

"And you wanna know what hurts the most? The way you looked at me the next day when I almost tried to kiss you again. You looked at me with this terrified expression on your face, as if you regretted what had happened." His voice lowers as he explains. You don't notice the tiny dots of tears forming at the corners of his eyes.

"W-why didn't you just tell me?" you murmur, the pieces falling into place as you realize your dream from last night was actually a forgotten memory.

"I panicked," Sangyeon admitted. "What if you didn't mean it at all and I just made a fool of myself? I didn't want to ruin our friendship. And I know how dumb it was of me to cut you off, but it hurt knowing that you didn't feel the same way and I would have to live with that memory every time I looked at you."

A numbing silence fills the air for a moment.

"I—I couldn't face you after knowing what your lips felt like, what it felt like to hold you. I'm a coward, I know that now. I should've apologized during the dance, but it was too late."

You stood there, frozen, as Sangyeon poured his heart out. Then he suddenly asks you a question that made your heart stop.

"If I hadn't kissed you just a while ago, would you still have talked to me? Would you have chosen me over Hyunjae?" Before you could formulate a response, your phone rang again. It was Hyunjae. Sangyeon's face fell, and he took a step back.

"Go," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll finish up the work inside."

You stand frozen as Sangyeon walks away. Everything suddenly feels too intense that you don’t even realize the tears that start to run down your cheeks. You need to get out of here or else you’ll drive yourself insane.

You grab your phone, fingers hovering over Hyunjae's number. At first you hesitate, torn between telling him the truth about your feelings for Sangyeon or seeking physical comfort to forget about everything. Your irrational brain picks the latter option instead.

“My place tonight? 😉”

Everything for you was completely a blur. One minute you're standing still outside the auditorium, the next you're pouncing on Hyunjae as soon as he rings your doorbell. You were so in over your head you had no grasp of time or any coherent thought.

"Looks like someone's missed me a bit too much, hm?" Hyunjae mumbles as he kisses you messily, pressing you against your front door.

"Just shut up and fuck me already, will you?" You breathe out, grabbing his hair in your hands.

"Yes, ma'am," he smirks before you both start hastily walking into the living room, leaving a trail of discarded clothes in your path.

To Hyunjae, this wouldn't be the first time he's seen you so worked up like this over him. But something about you right now seemed a bit off. Yes, seeing you incredibly horny like this was exciting, but your movements did not match the energy in your eyes. It was almost like you were on autopilot to him.

There's definitely something bothering you, he thinks. Or maybe you've been working all day and just need a way to relax. He'll probably check in on you later but for now, all he can think of is hearing those beautiful moans you make for him.

Too eager to get a taste of you, Hyunjae drags you over to your couch as he pulls you in to straddle his lap. He wastes no time littering your neck with kisses, groping your ass while you grind on his growing bulge.

"C'mere." He grabs your face in his hands, admiring little details of your face while he smiles to himself. "Tired from today?"

"Mhm." You hastily reply, wanting to not think of anything else except Hyunjae's touch. So you lean in to kiss his neck while moving your hips on his lap, your hands struggling to unbuckle his belt.

The way you answered just now threw Hyunjae off. There was definitely something wrong with you. How does he know? It was all in your eyes. Usually, you looked at Hyunjae directly when he called your attention. But now? It was like you were trying to completely avoid any sort of eye contact with him, and that was making him feel uneasy.

"Hey, uh—are you alright?" He calmly asks while gently holding your hips.

"Yeah, why wouldn't I be?" You mumble against his throat. Hyunjae thought he might be overthinking, but the more you struggled to unbuckle his belt (which was not a difficult task for you in the past), he couldn't continue on with you like this.

He calls out your name, hoping you'd stop to look at him, but you don't pay him mind. He says your name two more times and you still ignore him. Instead, he grabs your wrists and holds them up to finally get your attention.

"Talk to me, please—" He searches your face, trying to get a better look at you.

"There's nothing to talk about, Hyunjae." You huff out, irritated that he suddenly halted your movements.

"You think I'm dumb? There is clearly something wrong and you don't wanna say it," he says sternly, trying not to get too irritated with how you're acting towards him.

"I'm telling you there's nothing wrong."

"I don't believe that at all."

"Ugh, Hyunjae, can you just stop? It's none of your business!"

"It is my business if it's making you this upset—"

"Why do I have to tell you anyway?! It's not like you're my real boyfriend—" Your eyes widen as you suddenly regret saying those last words. And to add fuel to the fire, the way Hyunjae looks at you makes you want to vomit. You've never seen his face drop in an instant. The way the light in his eyes burned out so quick, too.

"Hyunjae, I— I didn't mean to, I'm so—"

"You're right," Hyunjae interrupts you.

"What?" You look at him confused.

"You're right. I'm not your boyfriend. But I am your friend. And I deserve to know what's been bothering you because I care about you so much I hate seeing you like this."

His stern but concerned voice hits you so fast you end up bursting into tears on the spot. Sobbing hysterically into his chest as you cry out all the pent-up emotions you locked away from tonight.

Hyunjae instantly wraps his arms around you and envelops you in a warm embrace. He gently strokes your hair while steadying his own breath, waiting for you to calm down until you feel better. You both sit in silence for a few minutes until Hyunjae's voice breaks the ice.

"It's about Sangyeon, isn't it?" He says calmly. Your head springs up in response.

"How did you—"

"The last time I saw you cry like this was when you were outside the gym during the dance." Hyunjae cups your face and wipes the remaining tears from your eyes with his thumbs.

"And well… if you were crying about me, we know it's for an entirely different reason." He smirks, trying to lighten the mood. You let out a faint laugh as he continues to stroke your cheek with his thumb.

"You should be with him—" Hyunjae says as he looks into your eyes. Before you can even ask, he continues. "That's who you want to be with, right? That's who you should be with right now, not me."

"Hyunjae, I—" You shake your head in disbelief. "What about you?"

"Me?" He asks with a surprised tone. "This isn't about me! It's about you. I'm not the one you need, we both know that. We both knew that at the very beginning. It was always Sangyeon." Hyunjae's voice starts getting weaker the more he speaks out the truth.

"I've always seen the way he looked at you and how you looked at him. It's clear as day that you both need each other more than you both realize it."

"But what about our agreement?" You ask him softly.

"Remember the first rule? If one of us wants to stop this thing at any given moment, the contract will end." He pauses his thought as he looks at you a little longer, taking you to memory before letting out a big sigh.

"And besides, our agreement broke a long time ago."

"What do you mean?" Your eyebrows knit in confusion.

"Well—" Hyunjae's cheeks start to warm up. "I fell in love with you the night of our first time." He faintly smiles. Rule number two, if any of us catch some sort of feelings for one another, the contract is immediately terminated.

"That night, you looked at me like I was the most important person in the world. That I wasn't the guy everyone in school knew as some kind of dick. You looked at me as Hyunjae, the real Hyunjae." He brushes a hair behind your ear. "How dumb of me to fall for those pretty eyes of yours." He sighs once more, trying his best to not let you see his lips quivering.

"I'm so sorry—" You start to tear up, knowing that this would probably be the last moments you have with Hyunjae.

"Hey, don't go all soft on me just because I said that, alright?" Hyunjae tries to bring energy back into his voice.

"I knew what I was getting into. You deserve to be happy, and if I'm not the reason for your happiness and you're stuck with me, that would break my heart even more."

He grabs your face so you could look him in the eye properly. "Got it?" You nod in response.

"Now c'mon. Be a good hostess and walk me out of your apartment." Hyunjae smiles before grabbing your wrists and pulling you up from his lap.

He helps you grab your clothes on the floor and even dresses you up and does the same for himself after. By the time he sets one foot out your front door, he suddenly turns around to face you.

"Can I just have one more request from you before this is all over?" he asks.

"Oh? What would that be?" You look up at him.

"Just one kiss goodbye." He smirks playfully. You chuckle before nodding your head to give him the go signal.

You close your eyes waiting for the warmth of his lips on yours for the last time, but instead feel it on your forehead.

"Don't be a stranger, alright?" he places his hand on your shoulder and gently rubs it for the last time before completely heading out the door.

For the last couple of hours, Sangyeon did nothing but lie on his bed and stare at the ceiling. He could still feel his heart pounding in his ears from your heated exchange at the auditorium earlier this evening. What made things worse was the fact he could still feel your lips on his, and your little sighs of pleasure were replaying in his head.

Where did it all go wrong? Was it when he offered to help you? Or when you leaned into his palm just like you did when you first kissed him? He couldn't stop mentally beating himself up for going off like that on you when you didn't even remember that night to begin with.

And now, not only did he pour his heart out, but there's also a guaranteed chance you may never speak to him again. He regrets this night more than keeping the truth from you.

2 A.M. was what was read on the clock of his bedside table when he turned his head. He hardly even noticed the time go by as too many thoughts and emotions were stirring in his head. His head started to ache from staying up too late.

It was difficult to forget everything that had happened between you two, but sleep seemed like the best option for him at the moment to distance himself from the issue. Sangyeon tried to close his eyes and count sheep; he could slowly start to feel himself drift into sleep until he heard loud knocks on his front door.

Pissed off, he groans and trudges to see who had interrupted his moment to fall sleep. Sangyeon swings the door open quickly, hoping to show the person on the other side his irritable mood.

"You better have a good explanation as to why you're here—" Sangyeon's eyes widen at the unexpected visitor.

"Hyunjae? What— what are you doing here?" he asks.

"Do you love her?" Hyunjae looks him in the eye.

"What?" Sangyeon's eyebrows furrow at the vague question.

"I said," Hyunjae sighs out of frustration, "Do you love her? Because she fucking loves you, man. And if you don't go over there right now—" Hyunjae takes a step forward, his figure almost towering over Sangyeon's.

"You will lose the greatest person that has ever come into your life," he asserted firmly. Out of nowhere, Hyunjae pulls a bouquet of flowers from behind his back and shoves it into Sangyeon's hand.

"No time to explain, just go!" Hyunjae increases his voice slightly.

Sangyeon stays still for a moment, trying to process what the hell is happening right now, then moves hastily to grab his phone, keys, and put on his shoes. As soon as Sangyeon locks his front door, he turns around to face Hyunjae.

"T-thanks, man. I owe you one," he humbly says. Hyunjae faintly smiles, nodding in return. A silent truce being made between the two.

Sangyeon drives to your place like a maniac, not caring if he has run any stop lights or whatever. He doesn't care at all. All he can think about is getting there in time to see you before it's too late to win you back. By the time he reaches your front door, he takes a deep breath before ringing your doorbell.

You open the door slowly, cautious about who could be visiting you at this time. The moment you peek and get a glimpse of Sangyeon's face, your face knits in confusion.

"S-Sangyeon? What are you doing here?" You look up at him. Sangyeon can see how red and puffy your eyes are; it almost makes him mentally beat himself up once more, but he will deal with that later.

"I came to see you," he matches your whisper. "Can I come in?" You nod and open the door wider as he takes off his shoes, lets himself in, and places the bouquet of flowers down on a table. You're slightly stunned as soon as you close the door and turn around to see Sangyeon standing close to you.

"W-what are you doing?" Your voice quivers as your eyes search his.

"What I should've done a long time ago—" he gently grabs your face in his palms, observing your reaction to his touch before leaning in to give you a light kiss on the lips. You try your best to kiss him back with the same firmness despite feeling incredibly weak from crying your eyes out the whole night.

When Sangyeon pulls away from the kiss, he then gently kisses your forehead and slowly litters your face with his kisses. You instinctively wrap your arms around his waist, pulling him closer while your eyes flutter shut and melt into his touch. Tears of joy start streaming down your face as your heartbeat slowly paces itself to a calm rhythm.

"You really hurt me, you know?" you croak.

"And I'll never do that again." Sangyeon looks deeply into your eyes. "I don't care if I have to spend the rest of my life making it up to you." He kisses your forehead once more before pulling you in for a hug, his arms wrapping around your hips while yours move to wrap around his neck.

You stay like this for a while, basking in each other's warm embrace. As Sangyeon opens his eyes for a moment, he catches his reflection staring back at him through a mirror nearby. When his eyes drift to the back of your figure, his heartbeat starts to rise intensely.

It did not occur to him that when you opened the door, you were wearing nothing but a short and very thin nightgown. Naturally, the silk of the nightgown bunches up as his arms hold your waist, giving him a tasteful glimpse of not only your lace underwear but also the fact that the undergarment you’re wearing shows your ass beautifully.

Sangyeon suddenly starts a coughing fit, trying to beat his chest to clear his throat while you're taken aback.

"Are you okay? What happened?" You hold his shoulder while he attempts to regain his composure.

"I—uh—" He scratches the back of his head, trying his best to avoid looking in your direction. But that fails when you catch him scanning your figure and his cheeks suddenly glowing a shade of pink.

"I—I can turn around while you grab a robe." His eyes look around your apartment. You giggle at his sudden embarrassment, finding it rather endearing more than anything. You take a step closer to him, your bodies practically millimeters apart.

"It's alright Sangyeon, you can look." You try to hide the smirk forming on your lips.

"I'm trying to be a gentleman here, okay?" He replies, still trying to avoid your gaze. But he is instantly brought back to face you as you pull his chin with your thumb and index finger to get him to look directly into your eyes.

"But… what if I don't want you to be a gentleman tonight?" you whisper.

"Oh, thank fucking God—" Sangyeon pulls you into a heated kiss. Your arms wrap around his neck once more as his hands travel down to the doughy flesh of your ass, groping and kneading it.

Your hands are all over each other as you both struggle to make your way into your bedroom, giggling in between kisses as he nearly trips over your carpet. Sangyeon eagerly plops you down on the edge of your bed, kneeling down to match your eye level as you pull him by his shirt to swipe the tip of your tongue across his bottom lip. He moans into your mouth as he opens up for you, intertwining his tongue with yours as his hands rest on your lap.

Sangyeon slowly spreads your legs apart and inserts himself in between, his hands gripping your inner thighs as his lips start to travel down to your neck. You sigh out dreamily, feeling the warmth of his lips make their mark on you.

You suddenly yelp at a particular spot that Sangyeon nips. He pulls away to check if you're okay. You nod, giving him the signal to continue. Before diving back in, Sangyeon notices the spot he had nipped was already red, indicating a mark had been made prior to his own.

Hyunjae… He can already hear that laugh ringing in his ears, but decides not to let the idea get to him and focus on you right now.

Sangyeon continues to litter your neck with kisses, leaving a trail as he makes his way to kissing your inner thighs. Your breathing starts to shake as his lips inch closer to your sex. Sangyeon wasn't even near your core, and he could already feel the heat radiating from you, making him smirk against your skin before giving a featherlight kiss to the wet patch on your underwear.

"Sangyeon, please…" You whine, desperate to feel his tongue wedged between your folds.

"Shh, it’s okay," he looks up at you as he kisses your clothed mound once more. "Let me take the lead."

His fingers pull your panties to the side, feeling his length throb at the beautiful sight of your slick glistening, enticing him to just dive into you. And he does exactly that as he kisses your folds before lapping his tongue between them, taking his sweet time to memorize what you feel like against his wet muscle.

You let out a loud moan as you lie back to enjoy the feeling of Sangyeon between your legs. He continues on like this for a moment until the tip of his tongue starts to circle around your sensitive bud, making your hands fly to his head to pull his face closer to your core.

His lips suck on your throbbing clit as he inserts two fingers into your entrance, curling them up to hit that spot that makes your eyes roll back. Your hips start to mindlessly move on their own as you grind yourself on Sangyeon's face. You sound incredibly hot; it spurs Sangyeon to lower his sweatpants down to free his aching cock and fist it harshly.

You start to feel your high approaching fast, the knot inside you ready to snap any second now. But the moment the vibrations of Sangyeon's groan ring against your core, you scream in ecstasy. You clench your thighs together, squeezing his head as your essence bursts in Sangyeon's mouth. For a quick moment, he thinks to himself that if he could choose to leave this earth, he would gladly go out by being suffocated between your legs.

He pulls his head away to check on you, your chest rising and falling heavily as you catch your breath. You couldn't believe the sight before you right now: Sangyeon's disheveled hair as he too catches his breath, the shine of your essence all over his mouth and chin, and the warmth of his cheeks flaring.

"T-that was—" You try to express your current state, but Sangyeon interrupts you as he quickly removes his shirt and gets up from his spot, exposing his glorious abs and his incredibly hard cock standing at attention. You were so mesmerized by his body you didn't even see him suddenly hovering over your body and kissing you like a man starved.

"Oh, I'm not finished with you yet, sweetheart—" he mumbles against your lips. He spreads your legs further apart with his knee and lowers his weight on you, the tip of his manhood nudging your sensitive clit in the process.

Sangyeon kisses your chest, busy distracting you with the way his mouth sucks on your exposed nipple. He swiftly grabs your legs to wrap them around his torso. And in one swift moment, his thick, veiny length fills you up entirely. You both moan as he starts to roll his hips into you, pumping himself in and out of your cunt as your walls grip around him tightly.

Your bodies begin to melt into each other the longer Sangyeon fucks into your heat, all the raw emotions that have been brewing between you finally free from their confinement. He buries his head into your neck as his thrusts start to become stuttered, the throb of his length inside you signaling his high approaching. You dig the heels of your feet into his lower back, locking him in place as you also feel yourself reaching for the stars once more.

"Let go, Sangyeon, it's okay." You moan into his ear, and instantly he lets out a guttural moan as he stills his movements. His warm release bursts inside you as your own high finally falls off the edge, your walls gripping his member like a vice as he embraces you tightly in the process.

You allow yourselves to stay like this a little longer, taking the time to process everything that had just happened before Sangyeon pulls out and gets up to grab a warm towel to get you cleaned up. He freshens up a bit in your bathroom before finally joining you under the covers. You lay your head on his chest as he pulls you in for a hug.

You sigh dreamily, looking up at him as he smiles at you. You both slowly kiss once more before finally drifting to sleep, both your hearts and minds finally put at ease.

The next day, you wake up with Sangyeon hugging you close. His lips are pressed on your forehead as you feel the warmth of his breath fanning you. You smile, recalling the events of last night and finally being in Sangyeon's arms again.

You slowly peel his arms off you as you get up to use the restroom and make yourself coffee. As you finish brewing your coffee, the bouquet of flowers Sangyeon had put down on the counter catches your eye. You gently grab the bouquet and find a good vase to transfer the flowers into. A sealed envelope tucked between the flowers falls to your feet.

You pick up the envelope and scan the item in your hand for a quick moment before opening the flap and seeing the card inside. You smile to yourself as soon as you read the note, a bittersweet feeling blooming in your chest as you read:

"Pretty girls like you shouldn't be crying anymore, okay? — L.HJ"

[indiee19]

From The Backseat

Alex Turner x reader

Summary: At a party, (AM!) Alex takes you to his car and fucks you

Word Count: 2,030

a/n: i missed writing so much. part 2 is being written at the moment. enjoy!!

✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑ ✿✼:*ﾟ:༅｡.｡༅:*･ﾟﾟ･⭑

The music was loud. The drinks were strong. And you were having a blast. You ended up at this L.A. party with three of your friends after they asked for you to join since you hadn't been out in a while. They were excited to say the least when you said yes to their request.

"Honey!!" Your friend Bianca shouted over the blaring music. "Are you having a shit ton of fun because I sure as hell am!" Bianca was one of the three friends you came with, the others being Naomi and Chloe.

You replied with, "Yes, B, I'm having a shit ton of fun." She smiled happily, hugging you. She absolutely reeked of whiskey and vodka. "How much have you had to drink?" You asked.

She giggled. "Oh, just a teeny, tiny amount," she said while pinching her fingers to show 'how little' she drank, slightly leaning on you. Bianca's head perked up though when she saw a handsome man staring at you. "Oh, honey, I think someone likes what he sees," she pointed at the stranger staring at you from across the room.

The stranger was wearing black pants, black boots and a white button up that had very few buttons done up on it. His hair was dark and styled back into a gelled quiff. He looked extremely fucking hot. In his right hand was a glass of what looked like whiskey. And a ring adorned one of his pinky fingers.

Just as he was staring at you, you began to stare at him. Your eyes met for just a split second and immediately you blushed and looked away. Bianca noticed. "And I can see that you like what you're looking at, too," she smirked.

The stranger smirked and placed his glass down on the table beside him. He began to walk over to you. The colored lights from the party illuminated him and his features, making his sharp jawline stand out even more. The lights accentuated his nose and you could see his biceps slightly through the material of his shirt. God, he was fine.

He finally reached you and leaned his arm against the bar behind you. "I'm Alex. And you are?" His voice was thick with a Yorkshire accent and that made him even more hot. You took a moment to answer him, still in disbelief that he was talking to you. But you eventually told him your name.

"And I-I'm Bianca, if you cared to know. Which you don't. So I'm just gonna go find Naomi and Chloe," Bianca said, embarrassed that she introduced herself like that. You and Alex laughed. "Have fun, honey," she said as she walked away. You were absolutely positive she sobered up just to say that and see your reaction.

"Sorry about Bianca, she's a little drunk," you laughed. He chuckled out, "It's no problem, me friends are a little drunk, too."

You laughed because of the irony. Neither you or Alex were drunk. Yeah, you'd both had your fair share of drinks, but you weren't drunk by any means. Hell, neither of you were barely tipsy. Yet, all of your friends were just a little drunk or tipsy.

"I seen you from across the room," he said.

"I saw you staring at me," you replied, a small smirk appearing upon your face.

"You were staring, too," he smirked back. Before, you couldn't really smell his cologne but now you really could. The smell of it and his voice was all you focused on as you looked at him and him only. "What about it?" You were quick to reply, trying to sound confident in front of Alex.

"Well, you see, we both have something in common," he raised his eyebrow at you.

"And what might that be?"

Alex leaned in closer. As he spoke you could feel his breath on your neck. "We both like what we see, and I think you and me both would like to act on it."

The way he spoke drove you mad. His voice alone got you wet. Your eyes met his and you bit your lip. "Would you like that, doll?" He asked, slightly deepening his voice. You sighed, "Yes." It was just loud enough for Alex to hear.

His free hand reached up towards your neck and he whispered in your ear. "Then, follow me so I can fuck the shit out of you." That did you in.

-

Mere minutes later, you were pushed up against a wall by the bathrooms. No one was around and you and Alex were too eager to wait any longer. His hands went to your thighs and forced you to jump and wrap your legs around his waist. He was about to carry you into the bathroom, and then he heard someone coming towards you both. "Fuck," he sighed. He had to think quickly and think quickly he did. He sat you down on the ground and grabbed your hand. "Follow me," he said.

You asked, "Where are we going?"

"To my car. I'm gonna fuck you in the backseat," he quickly replied. Fuck. The idea of getting fucked in his car riled you up. Fucking in the bathroom was one thing because there were walls and no one could see you. Fucking in the car meant that you could be caught just by someone walking past you both.

He was quick to lead you out to his car, more eager than you were to fuck. Quickly, he unlocked the black car and opened the door to the backseat. "Get in," he said, motioning for you to get in as quickly as you could. He followed and grabbed you by the neck. "The one good thing about fucking in a car instead of the bathroom is that you can be as loud as you want," he smirked. He pulled you in for a kiss and his hands went to work to get your blouse off. He pushed it off your shoulders and threw it into the front seat so it'd be out of your way.

You undid the few buttons on his shirt and threw it into the front seat as well. Alex's hands started to caress your chest and he pulled away and asked if he could take your bra off. You nodded and he was quick to do so. He started to caress your breasts and he dipped your head down to bring one of your nipples into his mouth. Your hand entangled in his hair, slightly messing it up, pulling on it. One of his hands fondled your other breasts, and the other went down to your shorts, tugging on the button as if he were asking if he could take them off.

He lifted his head away from your breast and he was quick to get rid of your heels. Then he unbuttoned your shorts, slowly pulling the zipper down, teasing you. Then he pulled them off along with your panties. "Fuck," he almost moaned. "You're so fucking hot."

He pushed you completely down on the seat and he went to kiss you, one of his hands going to tease through your folds. "Shit, you're so fucking wet. . . All for me?" He smirked.

"Y-Yes," right as you replied he pushed in two of his calloused fingers, slipping in easily from how wet you had become. You gasped at the push and closed your eyes. Slowly, he pumped his fingers in and out of you. In and out. In and out. Over and over again, getting you closer to the edge.

His head went to your neck, sucking on a spot as his thumb found your clit, rubbing circles on it. You tugged on his hair and started to moan. His fingers sped up, as did his sucking on your neck. Goddamn did he know how to use his fingers.

"I'm close," you moaned, pulling on his hair.

"Cum on my fingers, doll," he rasped out, pressing down hard on your clit whilst harshly pumping his fingers. The feeling pushed you over the edge. Moaning as your walls closed around his fingers, panting when you come down from the high.

He pulled his face away from your neck and looked at you. His lips were flushed and his hair was messed up from where you'd pulled on it. "Fuck, you're fucking hot," he said, quickly sitting up to unbutton his pants, pulling them down just far enough with his boxers to pull out his cock.

Alex was painfully hard and precum was leaking from the tip. He maneuvered himself just a little to be sitting over you before grabbing your legs and spreading them for him. One of his hands kept your leg spread open and the other went to line his cock up with your entrance. He began to push in and you were so wet that it took one thrust for him to be completely inside you.

You let out a loud moan and shut your eyes when he started to move. His hands were both now situated on your legs, holding them open and using them for leverage as he thrusts in and out. Alex was letting out loud moans, head thrown back, mouth agape. He took your legs and pushed them up as close to your chest as he could, making you feel him even deeper.

Your hands grabbed at his biceps and pulled him down to kiss you. And you don't know how, but he felt even bigger and deeper than previously. Your hands went to his back and started to scratch down it. He sped up when you did. "Fuck . . . fuck me, you feel good," Alex moaned. He pulled you over so that you could be on top of him.

He grabbed your hips when you were taking too long to move and he started to pull you up and down on his cock. Every time he pulled you down onto him, he thrust upwards, making sure that you feel all of him.

Then, his thumb went to your clit, rubbing hard and fast. "Oh, fuck," you said, hands gripping his shoulders. "I'm gonna cum," you said.

"Cum all on my cock, doll," he rubbed your clit harder and thrust as fast as he could. One final thrust and harsh flick to your clit was enough to push you over the edge. You let out a loud moan and threw your head back, tightening your grip on his shoulders as he kept moving you on his cock. Your walls fluttered around him and you collapsed against as he still kept moving.

"Fuck, I'm about to cum. . . Where do you want it?" Alex moaned.

"In my mouth," you said. He pushed you off of him and you got on your knees to take him into your mouth. "Fuck," he moaned out, hand gripping your hair and pulling it to move you up and down on him. Your mouth was warm around him, making him moan at the feeling.

His tip hit the back of your throat every time you bobbed your head. You hollowed your cheeks around him, licking his tip. "Fuck, your throat feels amazing," he moaned, starting to thrust his hips into your mouth. Then, you felt his cock twitch in your mouth, and he finally came, thrusting wildly into your mouth, holding you down on him.

Once he came down, he pulled you off his cock and pulled you in for a kiss. He began to deepen it before you pulled away to catch your breath. "Can't get enough of you, I swear," he said in a lower voice tone. "Would fuck you all night if I could."

You bit your lip at the idea. Alex noticed and lightly chuckled. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?" He smirked.

"Y-Yes," you said.

"Why don't we take this back to my place then?"

[green-alm0nd]

[Rex x Jedi!gn!reader]: Let me help you

----

----

Summary:

Jedi can't show feelings, yet your insecurities have not been really noticed by anyone. Except for the Captain of the 501st battalion, who happens to have feelings for you and can't stand seeing you hurt yourself.

TRIGGER WARNINGS: ANGST, MENTIONS OF SELF-HARM IN THE FORM OF SCRATCHING, AND CUTTING, lots of feelings, insecure reader, comfort, slightly suggestive in some parts, sad Rex hours, protective Rex, drinking, fluff, mild mentions of a panic attack, angst with a happy ending. Kinda self indulgent but that's not the point. Not proofread.

Enjoy!

A/N: I'm not really happy how this came out, but it's not the worst fanfic I've ever made. In my mind, it was supposed to go one way and when I wrote it it took a whole other turn. I'll probably edit it at some point.

----

"'Ner Nau', a Mando'a word that means 'light', or, 'My light'."

----

Rain fell over Coruscant, coating the planet in a translucent veil. The city lights and the sounds of speeders flying everywhere made it look more melancholic than it actually was.

79's was as busy as ever, having won a fight against a bunch of Separatists droids had the 501st bursting with confidence. Which was, of course, understandable. Twi'lek waiters and waitresses served drinks to the clones, some already drunk, others with slightly more tolerance. They danced, laughed and enjoyed since the night was still young.

There stood Rex, proud of his men, yet embarrassed at the sight of his squad acting like a bunch of kids celebrating their birthday. The clone took a sip of his drink, and awkwardly looked away whenever he received some sort of whistle or sway of hips coming from any of the waiters or waitresses. He shifted his weight from one leg to the other, uncomfortably staring at the doors of the bar.

You came through the door, looking exhausted. Rex's face immediately brightened, and he left his drink aside, walking towards you.

"General." He greeted, with a small nod. You were looking extremely attractive, despite you were wearing the same Jedi robes as ever.

"Captain." You greeted back, with a small smile.

When Rex looked back at you, he couldn't help but notice the bags under your eyes, and the overall exhaustion that you seemed to show: slumped shoulders instead of a confident pose, tired eyes instead of ones filled with determination, no one needed to be an expert to know something was up.

"If I knew you'd be this exhausted, I wouldn't have invited you here in the first place."

You shrugged it off.

"Oh, don't worry about it. Today's battle was tiring for all of us, except for you lot. I've never seen a squad with such energy." You remarked, smiling fondly at the celebration they were having.

Rex let out a light chuckle.

"Yeah, my boys are like this every time."

He motioned at the bartender.

"Want me to get you a drink?" He asked.

You shook your head no.

"Nah, I'm fine." You replied, still taking a sit next to his. Your hands rested on your lap, looking around the clone bar.

You had to admit, Rex looked extremely attractive under the lights of 79's. His armour hugged his body perfectly, and his face didn't have that frown he held in battle. His face was relaxed, and calm. While you were slightly, not to say clearly, tense.

Red, green, and blue shone repeatedly, in an almost overwhelming dance. Music blasted off the loudspeakers, someone with sensitive ears might've found it annoyingly loud.

Some clones approached you, and you kept a light conversation with them. Rex watched from the side, taking small sips from his drink as he stared in awe. Even though you looked exhausted and slightly uncomfortable, you made sure to talk to people. He admired how strong-willed you were.

Until, he saw them, that is.

He stopped for a moment, his smile instantly dropping and his brow furrowing. Your Jedi robes lifted up at the exact moment where he could see some spots on your hands and wrists that were in a lighter, pinkish colour.

He frowned, weirded out by the small spots on your hands. He knew what they were, it wasn't the first time he had seen them. He had a few scars on his own, war always left a scar. But yours...yours were different.

Yours were cuts. Yours were scratches. And they weren't old. They were clean cuts, and that scared Rex.

He stared at you, at your smile, which no longer seemed like the smile that made his heart beat faster. It was fake, false, so...not you.

His head started making up questions. How did you get them? Did someone do something to you? Did you inflict them upon yourself? Had this happened before?

Had he been so dumb he hadn't realised?

He didn't want to make you uncomfortable while you spoke to the other clones, so he waited. The taste of spotchka left bitter in his mouth, no longer craving for a drink. Eventually, you and Rex were alone again, and you felt his uneasiness through the Force. His signature was tense, and a tad agitated. He spun the glass with his hand, the drink following the lazy yet tense movement. His lip quivered slightly before he started talking.

"What are those?" He asked, his dark brown eyes piercing into yours.

You didn't have to ask what he meant, based on his rigid and stiff pose, his eyes never leaving yours. You tried puffing your chest, trying to look more confident as a defence mechanism.

"War brings scars. As a Captain, you should perfectly know what it means." You excused, heart beating in anticipation.

Rex shook his head. He gripped his glass cup. How could he have been so oblivious?

"I've met many clones, people and Jedi in my time. But none lied as bad as you are lying right now."

Your view shifted to the ground. You expected disappointment, anger, and discontentment. Yet, Rex's voice remained unreadable.

"What are those, Ner Nau?" He asked, no hint of anger nor disappointment. Just worry.

Your mind went into overdrive. Your gaze started darting around. Had others noticed? Were the other clones looking at you? Did they know? You felt yourself dissociating from reality, hiding your consciousness in the darkest corner of your mind. Your breathing became more erratic, and you found yourself unable to breathe. It was pathetic, you felt pathetic. A Jedi is supposed to keep their cool, to learn to control their emotions. However, Rex had always been able to break the glass that separated control from feeling. If all clones saw you like this, it could be bad. It was already bad enough that Rex was seeing you in a weak moment, you had to get out of there immediately.

Rex's words felt like a broken, dusty record. You couldn't make up the words, he seemed genuinely confused and concerned. Your senses came back, but your panic attack didn't leave as fast as it came. You felt dizzy from hyperventilating, and you needed some fresh air.

"I have to go." You said, before getting up and leaving Rex alone.

....

Rex was left alone. He wondered how you'd get back to the Jedi Temple with the pouring rain, though that wasn't even the main problem. He had seen something that filled his body with dread. And the person he felt the closest to refused to open up to him, and it saddened the clone.

He thought about it, wanting to chase after you. However, everything had happened too quickly, and the last thing he wanted was to make you more uncomfortable than you already were.

He took a sip of his drink before heading back to his headquarters, thinking about the recent events that had taken place, and if his question had ruined the friendship he valued the most.

....

Rain continued to fall on Coruscant, clouds covering the stars that orbited around the planet. The Jedi Temple was unusually quiet, the sounds of steps being the only thing that kept the sanction from complete silence.

You were in your barracks, preparing a few things as you were going on a mission. You felt truly embarrassed for what had happened the previous night, only making a fool out of yourself and Rex even more worried than he already was. You made sure to cover your arms well, though it had been hard to hide the scratches on your knuckles, fueled by the nervousness and the need for some sort of release.

You took a deep breath, and exited your barracks.

Jedi were walking around the temple, each focused on their own task. Most of the time, Jedi were egocentric, only focusing on controlling their emotions and not helping those who mentally screamed for help. It bothered you, yet you focused on other stuff, since thoughts like those could lead you to the Dark Side. Then again, at this point it felt better to let emotions release and not just bottle them up like everyone around you did.

On the way to the hangar, you felt a hand pull you to a room. It grabbed you from your sleeve, and slid you towards the right of the corridor.

Rex.

The door automatically closed, and you found yourself alone in the room with the clone you loved the most. He had left his helmet on a small table on the side of the room. His expression remained stoic, yet he seemed worried.

"Tell me. There's no one here. You can trust me, I won't tell the Council, I won't tell anyone." He said, almost desperately.

You were taken aback by his sudden behaviour, how this strong-willed clone Captain looked so worried and concerned for you.

"I know what those are. I've seen them before; why didn't you tell me? I could've- I could've done something."

You stared at him, trying to keep it together. You didn't want to break down in front of the person you loved the most.

"Rex, it's... complicated. It's a lot more deeper than you think." Your reply didn't seem to work on Rex, he felt guilty for not realising what you were going through.

The clone took your hands in his, butterflies erupting from your stomach at the mere touch. But that pleasant feeling in your stomach was quickly replaced by dread when Rex stopped in his tracks. He felt the slightly rough surface on your hands, scratches that could be quickly dismissed by saying it had been a loth-cat; scratches you had made yourself. Inflicted upon yourself.

He stared at you, a silent plea, waiting for the consent to see how far your pain went to.

You had nothing left to lose. After all, you already had the chance to lose his friendship. You looked away, letting him.

Rex carefully lifted up your sleeves. The clone braced himself for the worst, and slid your sleeves to your elbows. He felt as if all the air had been sucked out of his lungs by a punch. Clean, and somehow concise cuts rested on your skin.

You felt ashamed that you had left Rex see your arms in the first place. However, when you stared at him, he stared at you back, a pleading look in his eyes yet again. You knew he was trying to nonverbally ask for permission to touch your scars, and even though you risked your friendship even more, you allowed yourself to feel vulnerable.

His hands slowly touched one of the scars, slowly sliding down from your elbow to your wrist. His fingertips traced and rested on the bumps on your skin; some deeper, some not so deep, a constant reminder of the neverending pain you had to endure.

His eyes tried to search for yours.

"Ner Nau..." He whispered, caressing your scars. It wasn't painful, in any way, it was more of a temporary remedy that were his fingertips.

"You're wonderful. How could you even do something like this? Why didn't you ask for help? Why didn't you let me help you?" He asked, staring intently.

Your eyes widened, surprised at his question. You couldn't believe Rex's reaction. Yet there it was, no one else in that room, a worried friend trying to comfort the hurt.

"Asking for help doesn't make you weak." He assured, bringing his lips to your scars, trying to somehow ease the pain.

He kissed every single one of those small bumps, a silent support, and his acts, a comforting lull, making sure you felt loved.

"You matter. Don't do this to yourself."

That's when you finally broke.

Your eyes filled with tears, as you quietly sobbed. Rex slowly wrapped his arms around you, providing you with the comfort you needed at that moment.

"It's alright. I've got you now." He reassured.

And ever since that day, Rex became a lighthouse, a guiding spark that helped you out, that showed you were loved, and to show that the clone Captain loved you.

----

Not very satisfied with this one but I'm also working on headcanons ideas that I like more.

Reblogs and shares are highly appreciated!

My requests are still open!

[savvyreyes4587]

Never give me your back

(Pm!Dazai x Gifted!FemReader)

Nakahara Chuuya x Gifted!femReader (but not really?)

Summary: To say it was your plan to be at Yokohama's most famous hotel and in its casino\club wouldn't be true but what wasn't really in your plans was meeting a certain redhead and the baggage that came with him.

Author's Note: So here is the prologue and let's see how it works from here, also slightly edited so ignore any mistakes if you find one, also Dazai, Reader and Chuuya are 16 here.

Info: Wc(2k-ish) Violence, drinking, gun and bullets, I suppose.

Go to Life Waster Series

Dazai Osamu prided himself by how intelligent he was and how he managed to look beyond and see what others couldn't and that was exactly what had him frustrated in this very moment… What was it that he was missing?

The slug had told him that the sheep were looking for a certain someone, someone that Chuuya implied was like him in some aspects but to no avail, not the sheep, not the government… no one was able to find that person.

No matter how many paths Dazai followed, they all led to dead ends and now, he was faced with the choice of finding that person no matter the cost or it would be his end, at least in his eyes.

"Sir?" Someone calls for Dazai and he had half the mind to shoot whoever it was that broke his chain of thoughts but then his eyes drifted to the security cams on his desk, showing a live stream of the HQs casino slash nightclub and Dazai's eyes doubled in size when he saw…

He only thought to himself at that moment as his hand tightened around the gun in his hand… There is no way the slug figured it out before me.

Earlier that night

You regretted the decision you made the second you made it, why did you listen to Keisuke? That man didn't know shit about you yet he did but perhaps you should have stayed home instead of accompanying him to the meeting he had.

The Shady meeting he had if you might add because nothing about this meeting was normal in any shape or form and your gut feeling has been giving you signs since he told you about it but the nature of humans being the way it was… you ignored it.

Now, your ignorance had you sitting at the bar in one of the most expensive hotels in Yokohama, drinking scotch and questioning your existence… not a good combination by the way.

The other thing that had your stomach twisting with nerves was the fact that if anyone here caught wind of who you were… it would be over for you and whoever decided to tell on you.

You took in a shaky breath, hand barely able to hold the glass that contained your drink and you figured that the only way to calm yourself was probably to get somewhat drunk and loosen your nerves.

Without a second thought, you downed your drink, fighting against the burn that settled in your throat and the slight sting in your eyes and you had to close your eyes momentarily to steady yourself which also served as a reminder to why you didn't usually drink.

Everything suddenly felt heightend for you, the music was overwhelming, the speakers blasting, the movements of people around you and it made you feel like wanting to crawl out of your own skin, a sensory overload.

You needed to disconnect from all this, you had to but you also knew that the way your hand began clawing and scratching at your arm was no good sign… you had to stop… scratch harder… no, stop… draw blood…

The hand you used to claw at your arm was beginning to dig deeper, to draw blood but that's not what you wanted so why didn't it stop… Why wouldn't it stop?

Stop it! You are my greatest creation and I won't have your anxiety ruin it.

Shut up. Shut up. Shut the fuck up.

Go away. You're not here anymore.

I'm not yours anymore, I'm not-

You just realised that your hand was stuck, no longer sedating the unexplainable itchiness and you looked down to figure out what had it stuck but the moment you did you saw it.

It wasn't a what, it was a who. There was a gloved hand holding yours, keeping it away from your now red and angry arm and your brain didn't even comprehend the whole thing until the person who held your hand talked.

"Take it easy, Doll. Deep breaths." His voice was so… calm and relaxed and it somehow drowned the other sounds around you, making that dark cloud of thoughts disappear.

Your raised your head, your eyes meeting those cobalt blue ones that stared into your soul and you wondered if he could recognise how fucked up you were with the look he was giving you.

But something was still off about you and you couldn't for the life of you figure out what it was.

"Sorry to break it to ya but you kind of need to breathe, Doll." The redhead spoke again and you now understood what was wrong with you… you might have left the state you were in but your body was still in defence mode, where even breathing was barley allowed.

Slowly but surely you took one breath, then another and it almost felt like your lungs wanted to cry in relief at the feeling of air entering them again.

The embarrassment of the entire situation kicked in your brain as the gears started turning again and you felt your cheeks heat up in an instant.

"I-I'm so sorry, I don't know what happened, I-" You stuttered and stumbled over your words, adding insult to injury to this already embarrassing moment.

But when the redhead simply gave you an understanding smile and took a seat beside you, the embarrassment subdued at the thought that he didn't find what happened with you alarming.

He talked in that voice of his again. "No need to apologise or explain, Doll. I would get overwhelmed in a place like this, especially if it wasn't usually my scene."

He then tapped the bar and told the bartender to refill your scotch and ordered a new one for himself before he turned to you again.

A gloved hand was extended to you. "Chuuya Nakahara."

You pondered for a moment whether you should tell him your name or not but figured that it would be no harm to do so… like come on, what were the chances you meet again, right?

Shaking his hand, you told him your name before taking your glass of scotch and taking a huge gulp from it.

Chuuya downed the entire glass and it didn't look like he had the slightest issue with the burning sensation it left behind.

He tapped his glass for a refill before he turned to you, his blue eyes piercing through you. "So what brings you here, Doll? It's obviously not your scene."

Your fingers drummed against your glass, a habit you should have gotten rid of a long time ago but answered nonetheless and if you somehow screwed up anything, the alcohol was taking the blame.

"A friend of mine has a meeting here and thought it would be a good idea for me to come here too." You found your gaze wandering all over the man, from his face to his suit to that weird looking hat he had on.

Who was Chuuya Nakahara?

Chuuya said before he downed another glass. "Well, I'm glad he did, Doll. Otherwise, how else would I have been able to meet you?"

"But I'm also curious, what kind of friend leaves their friend alone in a place like this? I mean he must understand that some people wouldn't miss an opportunity to take advantage of you and hurt you." He questioned.

And that actually had you laughing, like straight up laughing out loud because he didn't just say that but he was excused, he wasn't aware of who you were, he didn't know that no one would be able to hurt you with what you had.

"Sorry, that was rude but trust me, Chuuya… no one can hurt me." You told him and you could almost swear you saw his eyes shine with a new light, as if he won the grand prize but as soon as you saw it, it disappeared.

He sighed. "Perhaps but sometimes we are the ones who hurt ourselves and you definitely seem the kind to do that."

Your body movement stopped all together and your blood ran cold in your veins while your skin paled. "I'm not--"

"Oh yes, you are. I know a haunted look when I see one and what happened with you a few minutes ago, it wasn't just about being overwhelmed… it was a triggered reaction but what exactly triggered you, Doll?" Chuuya asked and you felt your body kick into flight mode as you immediately jumped to your feet and went to walk away from the redheaded man.

But his hand caught your wrist and pulled you back to your seat and he looked you in the eye while his grip tightened on your wrist.

And he made the biggest mistake of his life when he asked again and said what he shouldn't have said. "What are you afraid of, Time Weaver?"

Your eyes burned blue and so did your body, you let the monster out as you stared him dead in the eye. "Certainly not you."

Blue ropes shot out of your body and slammed him to the nearest wall when you heard Keisuke call out for you. "Run! They want you!"

From the corner of your eye, you saw Chuuya get up and recover from the impact of the slam you gave him but you didn't comprehend that soldiers entered the club, with people screaming and running, it was hard to keep track.

Bullets rang in the air and you closed your eyes, knowing there was no way out of this, you just had to get Keisuke out and away from here then the rest could be solved or at least you hoped it would be.

Then everything went quiet and your eyes fluttered open and you took in how everything barely moved, the bullets directed at you were stuck mid air and Keisuke was stopped mid run to you.

You walked with slow and steady steps to him and shot out your ropes again, grabbing his body and walking up to the elevator, you put him inside and clicked on the G level before going back to the club.

A slight humming was what you let out while using your ropes, moving everyone and everything to suit your own purpose and a smile graced your lips as you saw the final image of the scenario you created before you went to stand behind chuuya.

With confidence you snapped your fingers and the world went back to its normal speed and you watched in amusement as the guards that were shooting at you were now in front of the bullets meant for you and how they fell to the ground as they got shot by them.

Chuuya was watching the scene with angry eyes and he looked left and right for you but didn't think about checking behind his back.

You had one rope out and almost… almost wrapped it around his throat from behind when you felt the cold bite of a barrel on the back of your head…

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you. He tends to lose his mind when he's angry." A nonchalant voice spoke behind, digging the gun deeper into your skull as Chuuya turned around.

His eyes widened when he saw you behind him but simply gave him a smile and was going to slow down time again when you sensed a hand holding the nape of your neck and suddenly you couldn't feel your ability… what the…

You turned around to look at the man who did something to you and stared into one uncovered eye as he smiled mischievously at you.

"Welcome to the port mafia, Time Weaver." Was the last thing you heard before someone knocked you out and everything went dark.

[sphireath-wisp]

Can you do Blue Lock Rin x female reader x Sae? The reader is a very sweet and kind girl. The Itoshi brothers are fighting for her love.

Sypnosis: The ask above!!

Warnings: Love angle, unclear ending, all characters are aged-up, mild cursing, messy interchanging grammar

Notes: You didn't exactly specify how you wanted the story to end. Neither did you say whether you wanted Rin to get with the reader or Sae to get with the reader? Thus, I made it more of a big situationship. (I didn't have much to work with and I wanted to stay in bounds instead of straying further from your ask and making my own story)

Featuring: Rin x F! Reader x Sae

"So, this is what you were up to, Sae?" Sae clicks his tongue at the sound of Rin's voice. He had hoped that dragging you alone with him to a booth near the back of the club would have let Rin off of his trail. This suffocating crowd wasn't doing him any good, especially when they failed to slow Rin down.

Rin, on the other hand, is irritated beyond words. Even with the bright lights in the club, he can still see the bright red flush of your cheeks and bare skin. You're wasted, drunk beyond comprehension and he can tell from your slurred speech.

You're on Sae's lap, forehead resting against his shoulder as his hands pretend to hold up upright - both Sae and Rin know Sae wants to hold you.

The sight alone causes Rin's hands to ball into fists. The blood in his veins feels like they've reached a boiling point, his gut churns uncomfortably when you give him that glazed-eye look. He's never wanted to be his brother so bad.

You feel a hand wrap around your wrist. "Come on, (Name). We're leaving." Rin declares.

"You're leaving. (Name)'s with me." Sae speaks up, hand holding your other wrist when Rin tugs you off of his lap. Sae's frown visibly deepens. He doesn't like you leaving - he realizes.

You stumble between the two. The world is spinning when you stand up and the ground looks distorted. The alcohol has its own strong effect on you, you can barely stand up and, unluckily or not, they take notice.

Rin takes action first, tugging you in his direction and allowing you to rest your head on his chest. His body has a mind of its own when his hand snakes around your waist. Sae, however, just had to intervene and pull you away from him just when he was getting comfortable.

"Fucking moron, can't you see she's wasted? I'm not leaving her like this. I'm bringing her home." Rin hasn't let go of your wrist.

"I know what I'm doing, Rin. Go home," Sae's words are firm, eyes narrowing at Rin and earning a glare from him. "Tugging her back and forth like a ragdoll, you don't know how to treat a girl right."

There's an almost deafening silence between you three. You're too disoriented to really hear the snarky comments exchanged except for the loud music blasting through the speakers. Chills shoot up your spine when Rin places his hand on the small of your back. Sae stands his ground and his hand find their space on your shoulder, fingers invasively going under the strap of your top.

"(Name)'s going home with me, Sae."

"You can't decide shit for her."

"What? You wanna ask her yourself?" Rin's tone is mocking, eyes rolling at his older brother. "If you have eyes, you can clearly see that she's drunk."

"She'd still want to stay with me, drunk or not." Sae's eye twitches. "Right, (Name)?"

You blink, dazed from the alcohol. Everything's a blur and you stagger back and forth. If it wasn't for them, you'd probably have fallen down by now.

"...Huh?" you blurt out after a moment.

"(Name)," Rin begins, speaking slowly so you can process things, "Do you want to go home with me or stay with Sae?"

[joelslegalwhre]

Hey anon! I love the idea, thanks for your request &lt;3

Just us

pairing ⁀➷ henry cavill x fem!reader

word count ⁀➷ 2.2k

summary ⁀➷ up in the ask

warnings ⁀➷ age gap (reader is in early 20’s, henry is 38), pure fluff, drunk Henry (but not in a bad way?), H/F means Henry's Friend, paparazzi

a/n ⁀➷ thanks for the request anon this was a blast to write!

Since an anon pointed this out to me; („paparazzi get called and scheduled“) they can also get their information about the whereabouts of a celeb from bartenders, spotters, etc… Please remember that I write fiction and not everything is like real life 100% of the time 🫶

Here’s my h.c. playlist

🥤my kofi if you’d like to leave a tip🩷

The night was truly not as you would have imagined it to be.

„Henry... c'mon bear, let's go home." you said, trying to get him off the barstool.

„You look beautiful.“ He slurred in your ear.

Goosebumps immediately spread over your entire body. You quickly kissed the corner of his lips, "Thanks. You look terribly handsome though, even drunk.“ you whispered with a chuckle, „That should be illegal."

His hands wandered to your hips, his fingers tracing shapes all the way up to your bra.

Henry was drunk as hell, and you had to get him home now before he did something in public, that he would regret later.

Luckily, one of his mates had your number and texted you about half an hour ago.

H/F: Hey Y/N can you please pick Henry up? We might have had a little too much of…. everything...

You: I'm on my way

You instantly hoped that there would be no press around.

You couldn't use paparazzi now, but they kind of always knew where Henry was. At any time of the day… or night.

Henry's friend had sent you the address of the club right after your last message.

Usually Henry wasn't someone who partied much. You spent your weekends together on the couch, walking Kal, or cooking together. But who never went out partying on a weekend?

"Kal?" you peeked through the door into the living room. His head lifted from his big dog bed, and he looked at you, panting.

"I'm going to pick up Daddy, will you watch the house while I'm gone?" Excitedly, he wagged his tail when he trotted to you as if confirming it to you to watch out. Lovingly, you petted him behind his ears. "I won't be gone for long."

"Alright." You muttered to yourself as the car came to a hold. You thanked the cab driver who would wait for you, and got out at the back entrance of the club. You wouldn't have found a parking space in front of the club by car, so the cab was clearly the better option.

Fortunately, it wasn't very busy, and you couldn't see any paparazzi. You took your ID out of your pocket and immediately received a few strange looks from the security guards. Sure, probably very few people came here in jeans, a hoodie and sneakers.

The club was loud and sweaty, and you could feel the bass of the music pulse through your body.

Just then you realized that you didn't know where they were, and the club was quite big, so you texted Henry's friend again.

You: I'm here, where are you?

H/F: At the bar, you have to get to the back of the club

You: Thanks

Making your way through the crowd, you began to sweat in your hoodie but couldn't take it off unless you wanted to walk around in only your bra, which you obviously didn't. You saw them just a moment later, all of them looking rather drunk. A chuckle left your lips when you saw Henry on a bar stool, resting his elbow on the counter. He was clearly drunk as hell. You wondered how they managed not to get the attention of the whole club by now, usually wherever Henry went the people recognized him. Right when you thought that, two girls walked up to them.

Henry didn't even see them, too interested to get the bartender's attention for another drink. His friends did though, just for the two girls to tap Henry's shoulder and flash him a flirty smile. He turned around by the sudden touch and drew his brows together. You couldn't hear what they were saying, but you grinned when he pursed his lips, shaking his head with raised brows.

He removed the girl's hand off of his arm, and his friends suppressed a laugh.

Just then, you finally reached them and immediately caught Henry's attention. „Hi, boys.“ you greeted his friends, and immediately got smiles and waving hands back.

„Excuse me, if you'd be so nice…“ You dryly said and squeezed past the girls, „l'm going to get this drunk mountain of a man home.“

„And who are you?" One of them asked with a deprecating look, eyeing you up and down.

„Mine." Henry answered for you. He grabbed the hem of your hoodie and pulled you to his chest. „Hey baby.” He purred as he put his big hands on your cheeks and kissed you.

You could taste the alcohol on his lips but didn't mind one bit. His curls were tousled, and you wanted to run your hands through them, to make them even messier. And as much as you wanted to keep kissing him, you broke away from him.

Henry still had his hands on your cheeks.

Your hands went to his and gently withdrew them from your cheeks. "You need a bed." you laughed lightly.

"Only if you are part of the bed too." He grinned and you shook your head, giggling. "Not today, Cavill."

Henry grimaced, „C'mon baby…..please".

„How old are you anyway?" one of them interrupted the two of you. „Yeah, are you even allowed into a club?" the two girls were still giving you deprecating looks,

„I'm old enough, thanks for your concern." you tried your best to sound as nice as you could.

„Henry... c'mon bear, let's go home." you said, trying to get him off the barstool.

„You look beautiful." He slurred in your ear. Goosebumps immediately spread over your entire body.

You quickly kissed the corner of his lips, "Thanks. You look terribly handsome though, even drunk.“ you whispered with a chuckle, „That should be illegal."

His hands wandered to your hips, his fingers tracing shapes all the way up to your bra. „Stop that." you lightly chuckled. Your hands softly grabbed his and removed them from your sides. „You can do that at home. When you're sober." you whispered into his ear, knowing damn right what it would do to him.

You turned to Henry's friend who had texted you, „Thank you." you chuckled, and he just raised his glass with a smile and nodded.

„Alright, let's go." you chuckled and took Henry's large hand. „Night, boys.

"They all gave an almost harmonic, and drunken, "Ciao, y/n", which made you laugh.

On your way out, you could still feel the gazes of the two girls on your back.

The same security guards that eyed you for your unusual choice of clothes when you entered the club, were now giving you the same looks. Not because of your clothes, though. You and Henry's hands were intertwined as you two exited the club, and he continued whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

You knew that look, it wasn't the „Omg, look that's Henry Cavill!“ , but rather the „She must at least be 15 years younger than him." look.

And even though there were almost 17 years between you and Henry, you looked even younger than you really were. Something the press absolutely loved, of course.

The moment you and Henry walked out of the club, you were greeted by blinding lights, dozens of shouting paparazzi.

Henry's grip on your hand tightened and no matter how drunk he was, he immediately switched to being your protector.

Almost everyone with a camera shouted his name, the few without were shouting various questions;

„How much younger is she?"

„Is this your girlfriend, Henry?"

„Who is she?"

„What's the name of the girl, Henry?"

And so much more that got lost in all the voices and shouting.

Henry let go of your hand to wrap his arm around your shoulder, protecting you from the paparazzi. „Give us some space, goddamn." you could hear how he tried not to sound as drunk as he really was. And you loved him even more for doing his best to keep you safe even when he wasn't feeling his best.

He pressed you against his chest and continued mumbling complaints.

Normally Henry was one of the most polite celebrities you knew, he smiled and gave them answers most of the time, but today they were definitely crossing a line.

He didn't stop walking, nor taking his arm from your shoulder when he grabbed the hood on your hoodie and pulled it down to shelter your face from them. In all the hectic and flashlights, you totally forgot that you could do that. Which once more showed that Henry might have been drunk, but he was still your protector, no matter what.

You helped him by guiding the way to the cab, still waiting for you outside the club. The paparazzi were following you until both of you got in, the car door shutting out their questions and the sounds of clicking cameras. „Fuck, I'm sorry, peaches."

„It’s fine, Hen. Don’t worry about it.“

Last night when you had made it home, Kal was impatiently waiting for you two. Whenever you didn't come home with Henry, which got rarer with each week, he got quite confused why his new mommy wasn't coming home with his dad.

Who was absolutely wasted right now. When he hit the soft bed, a moan left his mouth. „Wait a second before you fall asleep." you giggled, „l'll be right back." With Kal by your side, you went downstairs into the kitchen, getting Henry a glass of water and ibuprofen.

„Look at him, Kal." the dog looked at his dad and back up to you. A snort escaped your mouth. The mattress sank down next to Henry. „Babe... Hen." you lightly caressed his cheek. „It's better to take them now."

His eyes opened only so much to see you, he groaned but took the glass and the pill out of your hand.

You heard the door to the living room open and close, your head turning in Henry's direction. He blinked a few times, probably because the sun was still brightly illuminating the room. You looked up at him from were you were sitting on the floor, scratching Kal behind his ears, while Henry approached you. „Morning, bear." you smiled at him.

„Good morning, peaches." The sight of you and Kal together in his home was one of the things Henry loved the most. Thus, why he always wanted you to stay at his, so much so that it wouldn't take him much longer to ask you to move out of your own apartment.

He sat down on the couch behind you and patted his broad tights. He hugged your waist as you snuggled up to him, one leg draped over his thigh. „Thanks for the painkillers." he mumbled into your hair, breathing in the scent.

They smelled like peaches, and more so like home. „lt's an old trick my cousin told me about. The headaches are much less painful if you take them at night first and then again in the morning." you grinned at him. Henry kissed your forehead, keeping his lips there a little longer.

„l love you." he whispered.

„I love you too." your hands rested on his muscular chest. You just laid there for some time, Kal sleeping on his dog pillow, and listening to the birds singing outside.

„I bet the pictures are everywhere by now.”

You raised your head to look at him. A heavy breath escaped your lungs and Henry stroked your hair.

„Let them talk." you said.

„Who are they to tell us what to do and whom to date? Martin Freeman is married to Rachel Mariam, and she is 21 years younger than him." you played with Henry's fingers, „it's not like l'm underage.” Henry chuckled at your comparison.

„But you know what you are?" Henry asked with a soft smile. You propped yourself up on his chest, „What?"

„You are the woman I love. You are the only one I will ever love and the one I want to call the mother of my children. You," he stopped and looked at you with a look of pure love, „You're all I want."

With that, he had taken all the air from your lungs. Your mouth was slightly open and tears began to run down your cheeks.

"Oh baby, don't cry." Henry grinned as he wiped the tears from your cheeks.

"How am I not supposed to cry?" you sniffled. "That was the most beautiful thing I've ever been told. And all those things, everything, I want all those things with you and only you."

As if Kal had been waiting for his moment, he put his head on Henry's thigh, looking at both of you. You giggled as you gently stroked his snout. "You too, Kal."

“l'm glad they know." Henry whispered to your hairline.

„Me too."

He wrapped his hands around you and pressed you back against his chest. His warmth wrapped around you like a blanket, and slowly your eyes closed.

Henry took out his phone to take a picture of the three of you, Kal on his pillow, you asleep on his chest. One of your hands rested on his torso while the other was resting under your head. He smiled at the picture. The sun was still shining into the room, painting everything in a golden light.

With the caption „Just us" he posted the picture. Confirming it to the whole world.

༄ Don't copy, translate or republish any of my works on any app or other platform please. I only post my work on Tumblr and Wattpad.

Reposts are always appreciated, they really make my day🧡

[allthingsfangirl101]

Enemies to Lovers – Joe Keery

I have lived next to Joe Keery for two years and those two years have been hell. He has parties every weekend, trashes the hallway, blasts music, slams doors, smokes, makes passive-aggressive comments when I run into him, and is just a horrible neighbor.

"Up early and out early. Like always, Ms. Y/L/N," Joe said as soon as I left my apartment. I looked up and saw him unlocking his door.

"Up late and home late. Like always, Mr. Keery," I sighed as I locked the door. I turned around, my heart sinking into my stomach when I saw the bruise on his cheek and the bandage wrapped around his wrist.

"Are you alright?" I asked. My question made him freeze. He glanced at me before down at his wrist.

"Oh," he said slowly. He looked up at me and smiled softly, "I'm fine. Just a stupid accident on set that I made worse."

"How'd you make it worse?"

"I got drunk," he laughed. I smiled but quickly stopped.

"You should get some sleep," I said, clearing my throat.

"And you should get to work," he said, matching my tone.

I walked toward the elevator as Joe walked into his apartment. As I headed to work, I went back over my and Joe's strange interaction that morning.

I went through my day, forcing myself to forget about my neighbor. After a long shift, I happily left for the day. I got home, my entire body aching. As I unlocked the door, Joe left his apartment.

"We gotta stop meeting like this," he teased. I nodded but didn't say anything. "You okay?" He asked as I opened my door.

"Just tired," I shrugged.

"From shopping all day?" He smirked. I glared at him before walking into my apartment and slamming the door behind me.

Well, never mind. It looks like that moment of weakness Joe had this morning was just that. A moment.

* * * * *

I went about my normal week and it wasn't until the weekend that I noticed I hadn't seen Joe since the other day. I walked into my apartment Friday night with a fresh bottle of wine and some takeout.

The takeout was finished and I was working on the bottle of wine when there was a crash outside.

"Actor Boy is home," I mumbled. I sighed when there was another cash. "And drunk."

I started to stand up but giggled when I drunkenly fell back onto the couch.

"I guess I am too," I laughed. I jumped when there was a loud knock on my door. I sighed and slowly stood up. Once I had my bearings, I walked to the front door. I reached for the handle but froze when I heard his voice.

"Y/N! Open the damn door!"

I took a step back, my hands instantly starting to shake. Everything froze as he continued to pound on my door. I held my breath, silently praying for him to leave.

"Hey!"

My heart jumped into my throat when I heard Joe. I looked at my watch and mumbled under my breath, "What are you doing home? Please go back to work."

"Go away," my ex-boyfriend Scott laughed.

"Please go, Joe," I whispered. "I'm begging you."

"No," Joe said flatly. "What are you doing here? And why are you knocking on that door like an ass?"

"This doesn't concern you," Scott spat at him.

"Yeah, it does," Joe responded, his anger slowly rising.

"Oh, really?" Scott laughed. "Are you dating my leftovers?"

"You're the dumbass who lost a five-star meal."

I didn't know if I should be flattered or offended. Joe was standing up for me, but it kind of felt like an insult.

"I threw it out when it lost its flavor," Scott said through bared teeth.

That was definitely an insult.

"Wait, what?" Joe asked with the sole purpose of pissing Scott off. "I'm sorry, man. You kinda lost me. Are you saying you dumped Y/N?"

My heart flipped when Joe started laughing. "Yes," Scott seethed. "I dumped her."

"You see," Joe sighed, "I just can't believe that. I don't believe that you would dump a girl as gorgeous as Y/N. She would definitely dump you when she realized you were a piece of drunk shit that probably never got her to finish. . ."

I swung the door open, knowing that what Joe was saying was only going to end one way. And I was right. Scott had his fist clenched and his arm raised, but he stopped himself when he heard my door open.

"There it is," he said, breathing heavily as he turned around. I glanced behind him at Joe. He took a step closer, carefully watching me.

"What do you want, Scott?"

"I wanted to allow you to beg for me back," he slurred. Joe was watching us closely with his fists clenched.

"I don't want you back."

I gasped and took a step back when Scott's drunk glare darkened. "You don't want me back," he seethed. "Wow. You ungrateful little. . ."

He raised his hand again but he didn't stop himself. My eyes widened when I realized it was Joe who stopped Scott by grabbing his elbow.

"I know you weren't about to hit a woman," he threatened. "You sure as hell weren't going to hit that woman."

"I told you, Hollywood, this doesn't concern you." Scott tore his elbow out of Joe's hand and took a step closer to me. Joe didn't let him get any closer. My heart jumped into my throat when Joe instantly put himself between me and Scott.

"It concerns me when you're threatening a woman," Joe said, the tone of his voice changing again. "It definitely concerns me when the woman you're threatening is my neighbor."

"Neighbor," Scott laughed. "I'm sure Hollywood's Party Boy just loooves living next to Nerdy Stay-at-Home Bookworm. I bet she complains about your partying. How many?"

"How many what?" Joe asked through clenched teeth.

"How many times has she called the cops on you, Keery?" Scott smirked. "How many times has she demanded you turn down the music or stop leaving empty kegs in the hallway or having sex in the elevator?"

"The only woman I've hooked up with in the elevator is Y/N," Joe said making my stomach flip.

We have never done anything close to hooking up in the elevator or anywhere else in the building. He clearly said that for one reason and one reason only; to get under Scott's skin. And it worked.

"Y/N hates hooking up anywhere other than the bedroom," Scott said, his voice dropping.

"Maybe all she needed was the right guy to take her in the elevator," Joe smirked.

I gasped when Scott's glare darkened. I took a step closer to Joe, gently putting my hands on his shoulder blades. "Joe," I whispered, "Please don't push him."

"Alright," Joe sighed. "You're making my girl nervous so I'm gonna have to ask you to leave."

I was too scared of Scott's murderous glare to react to Joe calling me his girl.

"Leave?" Scott laughed. "I'm not going anywhere until I talk to her."

"Well, that's a problem."

"And why is that, Lover-boy?" Scott asked as he crossed his arms over his chest.

"Because I'm not letting you talk to her."

For once, Joe's tone made me nervous. I looked around and saw the glare on his face. As he stared down my ex, he reached behind himself and grabbed my hand.

"I'm only going to tell you one more time," he threatened. "Leave our place or I swear, you'll never be able to use that hand to pleasure yourself again."

"Our place?"

I caught on to that too.

"You two live together?!"

I knew it was going to happen before Scott even made a move. I guess Joe knew that too because he instantly reacted. He pushed me further behind him and hit Scott's jaw before he could do anything.

I stood there, frozen against my front door, as Scott fell to the floor.

"Guess I'm going to have to give you one last warning," Joe said, his voice dark. "Leave Y/N alone or you'll only be known as the loser ex who got his ass kicked by her current boyfriend."

Without looking at me, Joe grabbed my hand and pulled us into my apartment. He let go of my hand and instantly ran his fingers through his hair. I watched as he angrily paced back and forth across my living room.

"Thank you," I whispered with my arms wrapped tightly around myself. My voice made him look up at me.

"Of course," he said, his voice soft as he took a step closer to me. "Are you okay?"

"Yep," I said as I tightened my arms and focused on my feet. I held my breath when Joe's shoes came into view.

"Y/N," he said under his breath. "Look at me. Please?"

I took a shaky breath and struggled to hide my tears as I looked up at him. His eyes softened when he saw the expression on my face.

"Are you sure you're okay?" He asked. Before I could lie and tell him I was fine, he said, "It's okay if you're not. Talk to me, Y/N."

"It's nothing," I started to say.

"Come on, Y/N," Joe sighed. "At least tell me who that guy was."

Joe's face dropped when he figured it out for himself. He took a step closer to me and lowered his voice. "I was right," he whispered. "That guy is your ex."

I bit my lip as the tears started to spill even though I tried to stop them. Joe reached up and gently caught one.

"He used to hurt you."

He didn't say that like it was a question. Then again, from everything that just happened, it wasn't that hard to figure out.

"Listen to me, Y/N," he said under his breath, "he will never hurt you again. Alright? I promise."

"You can't promise that," I sighed. He reached over and grabbed my hands, making me look at him.

"The next time you see him, even if it's across the street, you call me."

"But. . ."

"Promise me," he cut me off. "The next time you see him, you call me."

"I promise."

We stared at each other, the tension thick. For some reason, I spoke up.

"You want a beer?"

"I could go for a beer," Joe chuckled.

* * * * *

Joe and I ended up drinking and watching a movie. As the credits rolled and my mind incredibly hazy from the drinks, I looked over and my stomach did some weird flip. I gasped when Joe looked over at me.

"You good?" He asked.

"You can go home now," I said, my heart sinking at those words. I looked at him to see him with an odd look on his face.

"Is that what you want?" Joe asked.

"I figured you'd want to go home," I shrugged. "It's been a weird and long night. You've already done enough. . ."

"I'm not going anywhere if you feel safer with me here," he said, gently cutting me off. His eyes widened like he just realized what he said. He opened his mouth to take back what he said, but I spoke up.

"I do." I paused before adding, "Are you okay with staying?"

"I'll stay for as long as you want me."

Joe's eyes glanced down at my lips. When he looked back up at my eyes, he slowly leaned in. I had my chance to stop him, but I didn't. Soon, his lips were pressed against mine.

Part 2

[wisedelusionalmarshmallow]

@jegulus-microfic, June 9th - Lip Gloss, M, Word Count - 802

CW: underage drinking, suggestive language

Past all the dancing and drinking and loud music blasting throughout the Gryffindor common room sat Regulus black. His chair pushed against the back wall. He had only come to what he had called 'the dirtiest party at Hogwarts' because Remus told him he might get to see James.

He was frustrated though because he wasn't told how much James he'd be seeing tonight.

Regulus thought he'd catch a few glances of the boy, standing talking to his friends, maybe finding him snogging somebody off to the side.

But James was hammered.

Absolutely wasted.

And turns out he was a party animal after a few too many shots.

Dancing on tables, letting his hips sway and his body roll with the rhythm of whatever was playing.

Dancing on the floor, bringing random people to join him and being a tad too touchy.

Dancing with his tongue, Merlin knows how many people he's kissed tonight and how many more he will.

Regulus had enough of it. Having already had a few drinks himself, he was going to just head back to his dorm and sleep. Tonight was a mistake anyways. He didn't need to be reminded of the boy he couldn't have. The boy who made his heart throb and who barely knew he existed.

He got up from his chair and was about to leave when he remembered he should tell Remus where he was headed, not wanting the older boy to worry. He remembers seeing him head upstairs to the dormitories, doing Merlin knows what, but Regulus just wanted to pop his head in and let him know he was headed out. Simple.

Right before he headed up the stairs though, someone grabbed his arm lightly.

"Regulus! I didn't know you were here!" James smiled behind him. Regulus had half a mind to shove him off and continue heading upstairs but the faint buzz of alcohol in his system made him stay.

"Potter," he greets.

"You know, I just love it how you say my name. It sounds so natural." Regulus could tell how far gone James was but he couldn't deny the way his words made him feel.

"Is that so?"

James nods. "I know Sirius said you're off limits but what I wouldn't do..." He smirks.

Regulus feels his face heat up at his admission. "Potter you're drunk."

"Tell me something I don't know, doll."

Regulus had to admit that he enjoyed drunk James much more than regular James. Even if it was because of his his own selfish desires.

James looks away from Regulus for a moment, his eyes scanning the rest of the party. "What do you say? Care to dance?"

Rolling his eyes, Regulus sticks out his hand. "I'm not good at this you know?"

The older boy grabs his hand and leads them to the dance floor, he laughs, "I'll teach you then."

Regulus can’t help but laugh along. He lets James drag him to the middle of the dance floor. “Now, all you have to do is lean in to my touch and follow my instructions okay?”

James places his hands on Regulus’ waist. Regulus bites his lip and tenses up.

James leans in towards his ear, “Let go doll, just listen to the music.” His words had Regulus blushing way more than those simple instructions should.

He listens though, closes his eyes and starts swaying his hips to the music, just like he saw James doing earlier. “There you go,” James whispers into his ear.

Regulus could get lost like this, James in his ear, holding his waist. Something about the repetitive movement is calming yet thrilling.

James’ touch disappears for a moment and Regulus’ eyes snap open, trying to see where the other had gone. The touch reemerges from behind him, James now standing with Regulus’ back against his chest.

Regulus leans back to catch another glimpse of the boy, his forehead sweaty and eyes red. He looked so carefree and content.

Regulus tried to stop himself. He really did, but seeing James like this… He blames it on the alcohol okay?

Standing on his toes for a moment, Regulus leans back just enough to catch James’ lips with his.

And it feels great, you know, Regulus really does enjoy the kiss. But he can taste someone else’s lip gloss on James. That fact quickly sobers him up.

He was just another body for James, another nobody in the crowd.

He’s not supposed to be here, not supposed to be dancing like this. Not supposed to be with James.

The other boy tries to kiss back but Regulus breaks apart before he can.

“I’ve got to go.” Is all James gets before Regulus tears himself away from the boy and exits the party, like he was going to in the first place.

[mncxbe]

Hello

Something similar to the post where Chuuya dragged Akutagawa out to a night club/bar, however Reader insists they go with them (keep an eye on Chuuyas drunk ass) and basically Chuuya walks off, leaving reader alone with Akutagawa and Chuuya ends up talking a lot with a girl that by pure coincidence looks almost exactly like reader. So she's just sat there jealous, like even the bartender starts being like "uh.. You okay, this is the 15th shot of vodka in the row—" or she just completely ignored the guy behind that just tried to grab her wirst (she ends up riding Chuuya for hours on end back at home overstimming both of them—) (maybe that reader and Akutagawa have a sibling like relationship)

Omg yes I absolutely love this idea anon and I had so much fun writing this. I also got a bit silly with it hehe. Hope you enjoy♡

°☆○

9:30♡

𝑪𝒉𝒖𝒚𝒂 𝒙 𝒇𝒆𝒎!𝒓𝒆𝒂𝒅𝒆𝒓

𝑮𝒆𝒏𝒓𝒆: smut♡

"What ya doing darling? Really think I'm gonna let you cum this easily after what you did tonight?" you slurred your words as you bounced up and down your boyfriend's cock, manicured nails digging deep into his shoulders.

Beneath you, Chuya let out a low groan. "Please baby just need to cum I'm sorry I'm sorry"

Your slender fingers travelled to the nape of his neck, entangling in his scarlet locks. "Well too fucking bad" you said as you swiftly tugged at his hair, ripping a moan from his parted lips.

What was supposed to be a fun night at the club with your boyfriend and best friend ended up being a complete shitshow. Within half an hour from entering the club Chuya got drunk and vanished in the crowd. A few minutes later you spotted him lounging on one of the red velvet round sofas, chatting with a woman.

"Do you fucking see that?" you asked Akutagawa, who was mindlessly gazing around the room. He's always hated clubs; with their roaring music that blasted through the speakers, sending vibrations through his entire body and the sweaty swarm of people that never ceased dancing.

"Huh, see what?"

You pointed in Chuya's direction and he followed your finger, his silvery eyes landing on your boyfriend.

"Oh damn. That's awkward" he said, squinting his eyes. "She kinda looks like you tho."

You took a moment to examine the woman; indeed, she had fairly the same built as you and the shade of her silky hair was alike yours.

"I can't believe this" you huff as you grabbed Akutagawa's arm and dragged him towards the bar. "Come on drink with me"

"Aren't you gonna talk to him about..?"

"Fuck no. If he wants to cheat I won't bother to stop him" you chimed in.

Taking a seat on one of the high chairs at the glowing bar, you ordered ten shots of tequila. The bartender raised a brow in surprise upon hearing your order but hurriedly poured the light-gold liquor in small glasses, topping them with a perfectly cut slice of lime.

He placed the ten shots between you and Akutagawa with a little smile.

"Oh thank you sir. Put them on Chuya Nakahara's tab, will you?" you cooed, flashing him a sweet smile before dividing the drinks between you and Akutagawa. "Here you go. Five and five. Cheers!"

With a grace that only comes from practice you downed the first shot, taking a bite of lemon right after. Your body shook a little.

"Wow that was strong" you laughed, urging Akutagawa to drink his shot too.

Three minutes after all the glasses were empty; your glassy gaze slid to the place where your boyfriend was, still talking to that woman. His brows were slighly furrowed, eyes half-lidded as he leaned in to whisper something to his companion. The girl chuckled lightly and pat his shoulder with an exaggerated saccharine gesture.

"Tch... Bartender! Another round please and a negroni."

Akutagawa's eyes narrowed in your direction.

"Hey I think that's enough for tonight"

"Nonsense. Just five more each and then we can stop. We're having fun!"

~

Ten tequila shots and a cocktail later your head started spinning. The flashing lights that danced around the room only made your headache worse, a feeling of nausea taking over you. Akutagawa left a few minutes ago so you were all by yourself.

Chuya was still talking to the woman and they were closer now, his hand loosely sliding up and down her tight. A wave of jealousy washed over you when the woman leaned in, placing a kiss at the corner of Chuya's mouth.

"Oh fuck this. This is enough"

You got off the chair and marched through the crowd, shoving away a man who attempted to take you to dance.

"What the hell are you doing, Chuya?" you asked in a low voice, arms crossed over your chest.

The man shook upon hearing your voice. "Huh? What?" he slurred as his gaze moved from you to the other woman.

"Wait... you're not my girlfriend" he eventually concluded, pointing at the girl next to him. A loud slap landed across his face.

"You didn't tell me you had someone asshole" she screamed in a high pitched tone before getting off the sofa and disappearing in the crowd.

Chuya held a hand to his reddened cheek, his skin hot under his touch. "Sorry baby I'm really drunk right now." he said as he got off the couch, struggling to stand straight.

"Nah you don't say" you spat, gripping his wrist as you pulled him towards the exit.

~

Half an hour later you were back home, hips grinding against his as you pushed your boyfriend closer to his high. His head was thrown back, lips slightly parted as little whimpers and lewd sounds fell off them; tufts of his red hair clinged to his damp forehead.

"Please baby I'm sorry" he moaned lowly, eyes shut tight.

"You don't fucking say." you utter between ragged breaths, riding him at a relentless pace; You felt his dick pulsate again and suddenly ceased your motion, hovering your hips just above his length. Your boyfriend let out a huff at the loss of touch; his hands gripped your hips in attempt to pull you onto him again.

"I'm so close love it's been too long. I can't anymore."

"I also waited while you talked with that woman tonight so stop bitching around."

His deep blue eyes met yours again. They were glossy and blurry, tears threatening to spill at any moment.

"I'm so sorry my love. You know I'd never cheat on you. You're my one and only and I'm so so sorry I was so drunk I didn't realize..."

You instantly lowered your hips onto his, causing him to groan.

"Please angel please." he moaned, his desperate sounds causing a knot to form inside you.

"Promise me you'll never do this again" you said between sobs of pleasure.

His expression suddenly softened and he cupped your face with his calloused hands, gently brushing his thumb over your lower lip.

"My love I'll never do this again. Never gonna make you feel like this. Please forgive me and let me make it up to you." His words were so sweet they caused you to squeeze tightly around his length.

"Mm come on baby just cum on me. Make yourself feel good." he stuttered, gripping your hips as his nimble lips trailed feathery kisses along your neck.

Slowly but surely the two of you reached your high, panting. Your head came to rest on his heaving chest; his arms snaking around your body.

"I love you Y/N. Please forgive me." he whispered softly, your name falling off his lips like a prayer.

"Of course I forgive you Chu. I love you too much to stay mad at you."

He chuckled lightly, the tips of his digits gently tracing loose cricles along the expanse of your back; goosebumps rising on your wet skin. The alcohol lulled the two of you in a deep slumber and you fell asleep entangled with one another, your heartbeats syncing as you breathed in the same slow rhythm.

[gojos-thot-patrol]

Now Presenting...

Starring Suguru Geto in a curseless AU set in the early 2000s.

Synopsis: Neither one of you are quite over your "Relationship" If you could call it that. You had been avoiding him since the breakup for that very reason. He was the last person you ever expected to see at this party.

The wind was bitterly cold. You blew the smoke out of your lungs, watching it swirl into the clouds and praying it would take you with it. You didn't want to be here. You hated parties. You hated this town.

"There you are!" Your friend groaned as she came outside. "God, you're way too good at disappearing. I've been looking for you everywhere." You took a moment to take her in. Her eyes were filled with worry for you, frustration etched into her eyebrows. You hated to admit it, but you liked that she worried. It made you feel loved again. A small smile tugged at your lips. 

"Yep. I'm here. You should have guessed," you chuckled, throwing your cigarette onto the concrete and stomping it out. 

"Come inside," she insisted, "it's freezing out here." She was right. October nights had always been bitter, but tonight had a particular edge to it. You nodded to her as you slipped your hands into your hoodie. 

"I'm coming." 

"Try to look like you don't hate it here" your friend teased, "miserable is not a good look on you." You disagreed. You thought misery was your default. It was glamorous. It was vintage. It was hand tailored for you. At least, that's how it felt these days. Since things had ended. It had only been six months since your relationship failed, but it felt closer to six decades. Suguru’s ghost clung to you, haunted your body and mind. It felt like you were never not thinking about him. You wondered what you’d do if you saw him again.

“Ah, but that's the thing,” you half laughed, “I do hate it here. Frat parties are for people who like other people. And that's not me.”

“While true, they’re also for people who want to get black out drunk and forget their ex, which is you.” Your friend argued. I mean, shit when she was right she was right. The two of you walked back into the party, the music blasting top twenty pop hits into the air and shaking your soul out of your body. You tied your hoodie around your waist, the heat becoming thick faster than you expected it to. Your friend yelled…something you couldn’t decipher into your ear before disappearing into the crowd. Fuck.

 You sighed and made your way through the ocean of college kids, all swaying, making  waves in time with the music. You found your way to the kitchen, mixing yourself a vodka redbull. You drank it far too quickly, made yourself another one, and got about half way through it before you took another breath. You tuned back into the music, just to roll your eyes. Who burned the CD for this party anyway? You were sure this party couldn’t get any worse. Then it did.

You made eye contact with him the moment he walked into the kitchen, looking tired and disinterested. Satoru was going on and on about something inconsequential, you were sure, and Suguru was looking for a drink to help make his best friend bearable. His corpse eyes found a light in them as they connected with yours. You were sure whatever light you may have had left in your eyes faded instantly. You finished your drink. 

“Dude, are you even listening to-..oh.” Satoru cut his own sentence off as he realized what, or rather who his best friend was staring at. Shit. There was a solid five seconds of the three of you just staring at eachother in a fucked up standoff. Each waiting for the other to make a movie while Brittnay sang about genies in the other room. He looked better than you were fully willing to admit, wearing tripp pants and an old Korn tee over a mesh shirt. Your breath felt heavy in your throat. Memories of the last night you saw him exploded in your mind like war flashbacks. The tears, the fighting, the begging. The goodbye. Fuck.

He made a b-line to you and you b-lined to the back door, your closest escape. “Dude, stop!-” You heard Satoru call, no doubt chasing after Suguru. You were thankful for him. He was rarely the rational one between the two of them, but he was normally able to bring Suguru back to earth when he lost his mind. Maybe that was why they worked. You didn't really care to give it much thought anymore honestly.

“Y/n!” you heard your ex call for you. Fuck he sounded close. You could hear the chains on his tripp pants rattle as he made his way to you. You started to run. You hated making a scene but you couldn’t see him. For all the times you wondered what you’d do if you saw him again, running wasn’t ever really one of the options, but you’re here now. You made your way out the back gate and to your car. Your salvation. You picked up the pace, unlocking your car and falling into the seat with a swiftness that shocked even you. You let out a sigh of relief as your car door closed behind you. Finally, safe. You took out your phone to let your friend know you were leaving.

“Y/n!” Suguru called out as he plopped down in your passenger seat, scaring a squeal out of you. What the fuck?!  

“Get out you bastard!” You yelled at him.

“I just want to talk!” He said back, not yelling, but definitely talking louder than he normally did.

“You’ve fucking lost it Geto!” You matched his tone, “This is breaking and entering!”

“I’m pretty sure that only applies to buildings, Gorgeous.” He grinned, and it was so charming you almost forgot you hated him. 

“Don’t call me gorgeous!” You hissed, “I have nothing to say to you!”

“I have so much to say to you though!”

“Too bad, get out of my car!”

“Give me five minutes!”

“No! I’m going home!”

“You can’t drive like this Y/n! You’re drunk.” You started to yell a comeback, but realized you didn’t have one. He was right. You were starting to feel the drinks of the nights, and we're definitely not good to drive. 

“Then I’ll walk home!” You scoffed. And he laughed. He actually had the audacity to laugh. 

“No you won’t.” He chuckled, “You live too far away. Plus, you would never leave your car unattended at a frat party.” He was right again. You hated how well he knew you. “Let me drive you.” He offered.

“No. you’re drunk too.” you scoffed.

“Am not,” He informed you, “I just got here.”

“Then what the fuck compelled you to just…get into my fucking car?” You asked, still flabbergasted by the audacity. The Suguru you knew would never have done that. He fumbled, looking for an answer. Truth was, he didn’t know why he did it either. 

“I miss you Y/n.” was the best he could offer. You sighed, a deep sigh that felt like it was pulled straight out of your sorrow and you threw your head back onto your headrest. You stared at the roof of your car. This was a bad idea. Suguru came with far too many emotions. Wounds that had barely had time to scab over were ripping open in real time, bigger than they ever were before. 

If you were smart, you would have gotten out of the car. You would have found Gojo to have him collect Suguru, and found your friend to have them drive you home. Or at least have them call you a cab. If you were smart, you would have told him to leave you the fuck alone. You would have saved your heart the extra heart break. You would have forced yourself to remember all the fighting that led you to where you were now, the pain, the heartbreak, the neglect. 

But, you weren’t feeling particularly bright that night. And all you could remember was the soft Suguru. The one that held you close at night, and asked before he kissed you. The one that took you out on late night dates in famous cemeteries cause he read it in a romance novel and thought it was just oh so romantic. You sighed and handed him your keys.

He gave a far too enthusiastic Yes! As the two of you changed seats. You settled into the passenger seat, already regretting your decision. You buckled up as he started the car.

“Are you hungry?” He asked, looking at you. You returned the look, though yours was laced with far more annoyance. 

“I’m annoyed.” you respond. He rolled his eyes.

“I’m just saying, food would be nice. Would probably help you avoid a hangover too.” A hangover sounded like a nightmare. Once again, you relented. 

“Fine, but you’re paying.” he grinned.

“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” He said, pulling out to the street. He turned up the radio, a smile spreading across his face as he heard the song. Everlong, by the Foo Fighters. It made you smile too. Suddenly, you weren’t in your car anymore. You were sitting on Toji Zenins couch, nervously fiddling with your hands as he weighed out an ounce of weed. He’d been your plug for a few weeks at that point, but you still hadn’t grown used to his aura. 

You jumped when there was a knock at his door, and he looked just as confused before a realization dawned on him. “Oh, shit. I think I okay-ed two people to come over on accident.” he laughed to himself. “Hope that's okay Y/n.” he said, going to get the door. It wasn’t, you wanted to leave. But, you didn’t say that. Sometimes you wished you did. 

“Heyy! Weedman!” You heard a now familiar, but then utterly unrecognizable voice. “Thanks for covering me on such short no- Oh, hello!” Gojo said as he walked into the living room, seeing you sitting awkwardly on the couch. Suguru was behind him, quietly observing you. He smiled softly, raising his hand in a wave. His long black hair perfectly framed his sculpted face. His kind eyes seemed mismatched with his almost mischievous smile. You couldn't help but be sucked into his orbit. You smiled gently and waved back. 

“Hi.” before you knew it, Suguru was sitting next to you while Gojo rambled about..something. Honestly, he was always rambling about something. You don’t know why you didn’t leave after you got your weed. Maybe it was because Toji offered to smoke with the three of you to apologize for double booking, maybe it was because Geto kept managing to catch your eye. Either way, the two of you hadn’t really spoken, Toji and Satoru speaking enough for both of you. 

Suguru passed a joint to you as Everlong came on the radio. Toji grimace. “Man, this song is shit.” He said, going to turn it off.

“Watch yourself Zenin,” Suguru said, pointing at Toji and stopping him in his tracks. “This songs hot as fuck, disrespect it again and we’re gonna have a problem.” You really liked Sugurus' voice. 

“Chillax man, this songs not worth trippin’ over.” Toji scoffed, “Especially considering it’s not good.”

“I like it.” You said, the weed making you feel bolder than usual. “I really like the Foo Fighters.”

“Not you too Y/n.” Toji groaned, finally stepping away from the stereo. Suguru looked at you and grinned. It made butterflies explode in your stomach.

“I knew you had taste.” He praised. It was the first thing he had ever said to you. 

“Here.” Suguru said, handing you your drink and jerking you off of memory lane. You grabbed the drink and thanked him. You realized the two of you were parked now. You looked at the burger he handed you and smiled. 

“You remember my order.” You commented. He scoffed as if that was almost insulting.

“Of course I do. I remember everything about you.” He muttered. The two of you started to eat, a pregnant silence filling the car. That pregnant silence, then gave birth to many other smaller but just as intense silences. Blink 182 played softly in the background, but no matter how many times Mark Hoppus asked what his age was, it didn’t cut through the awkwardness in that car. 

“Look, Y/n, I know I-” Suguru started. Rage and despair welled up inside of you.

“I don’t want to talk about it, Geto.” You said very bluntly, finishing your fries. 

“But I-” he started, but cut himself off. He didn’t want to push his already unbelievable luck. But someone had to say something. He smiled softly to himself. “Hey, do you remember when the Red Hot Chili Peppers dropped By The Way-”

“Album or song?” You cut him off to ask.

“Album,” He clarified, “And we raided 7/11 and drove around all night, listening to it on repeat.” You laughed because you did remember that. You remembered it like it was yesterday. You could still taste the blue slushy on your tongue as you tried desperately to analyze lyrics while Suguru insisted The Red Hot Chili Peppers were not the kinda band you analyze the lyrics too, they’re the band you get high to. 

Still, you remembered getting goosebumps the first time you heard Midnights, the opening verse of “Things will never be the same/Still I'm awfully glad I came/Resonating in the shape of things to come/Never waiting when I know there's only one” Speaking to your soul in ways you didn’t quite understand then, but felt like you did now. 

“Yea, I remember,” You giggled, “I think there's still a stain on my seat from you getting mustard on it.” You said, searching for said blemish, “Yea! There it is, right there!” The permanent mark he left in your car. 

“Hey, it is not my fault that you can't eat 7/11 hot dogs without mustard.” He laughed.

“No, but it is your fault you couldn't keep it on your dog, you dog!” You teased.

“I blame Anthony Kiedis.” He grinned with a shrug. This was nice. This felt like old times. This felt like the moments where he was actually him. 

“I think that album’s still in my car.” you muttered. 

One whirlwind later and you were getting slurpees at 7/11, the cashier looking at the two of you with disdain as you laughed and made a mess of the machine he just cleaned. Blue for you, red for him, just like it had always been. Suguru had to grab sour gummy worms and twizzlers. He still couldn’t leave a convenience store without them. He didn’t even like twizzlers, not really. It just ‘felt right’ to grab them. Whatever that means.

You were looking through your CD case when suddenly, he stopped you.

“We got to listen to a different album.” He said out of nowhere.

“What?” You scoffed.

“We can’t try to recreate the magic of the By The Way album release. It would be disingenuous.” He insisted.

“I thought that was the whole point!” You argued, before groaning. “Ugh, Fine! Umm…” You shuffled through CDs. “Fall Out Boy just released an album.”

“Who?” He asked, squinting his eyes in confusion. 

“They’re a new band out of Chicago. This is their debut studio album, it’s called Take This To Your Grave.” you said, holding up the blue jeweled case. Suguru looked…hurt. Like the cavalry had come and made it their personal mission to trample him into the dust.

“You’ve been listening to new bands without me?” He asked, starting the car. That bitter taste of resentment filled your mouth again.

“Well, yea. Life didn’t end because we did.” Besides, this album had been helping you more than you were willing to admit. He nodded in defeat, biting his lip as the two of you pulled onto the road.

“Play it.” he muttered. You didn’t know if you were thrilled with or deeply regretted your decision to play this album, but the opening verse was cutting. Light that smoke, Yeah, one for giving up on me/ And one just 'cause they'll kill you sooner than my expectations/ To my favorite liar, to my favorite scar (to my favorite scar)/ I could have died with you.

“Well fuck Y/n, Is there something you’d like to say to me?” He tried to laugh, but the humor didn’t make it to his voice. “Feels a little targeted.” you shrugged.

“We all cope in different ways.” you muttered. You thought back on your relationship. A backseat romance that belonged to parking lots and famous cemeteries. A relationship that existed on highways and at dingy basement shows, and always on his terms. It was fun at first, even you had to admit. And, maybe it could have stayed as just fun, if he wasn’t so fucking…sweet! He was always so tender with you in the afterglow of your nights together, even if that just met cleaning you up with fast food napkins in his back seat. He was a cuddler too, insisting on you staying the night with him after your nights together under the guise of it being late, when you both knew it was so the two of you could hold each other.

It wasn’t just the after care though, or the sex for that matter. It was him bringing you candy and setting up a movie marathon when he knew you were struggling with your classes. It was him giving you a copy of Rebecca that he annotated because he wanted to share his thoughts with you about it. It was him giving you a copy of The Color and the Shape album because it had Everlong on it, and that was “Our Song” according to him. How could you not have fallen in love?

It started to hurt. That he was so willing to be so sweet and tender with you behind closed doors, but the moment you wanted to be something more, he froze. Suddenly, he didn't know why you guys needed to put a label on things! You guys were having fun, why did you want to mess up ‘the dynamic’ whatever the fuck that ment. Yea, he was fun. But you were tired of being just another hook up in a dingy venue bathroom. Absolutely sick of having to sneak out of his bedroom window, because his roommates would start asking questions if they saw you there for the fourth time that week. He constantly promised he was going to make things official, he just needed time. But, it wasn’t like you were asking him to fucking marry you, just to change your fucking title and maybe take you out on a real date every once in awhile.

Doubts started to fill your head. There had to be a reason he wouldn’t commit to you, right? Was it another girl? Was something wrong with you? It all came to a head six months ago. The two of you were laying in his bed, Crestfallen by The Smashing Pumpkins softly playing in the background as the two of you shared a cigarette, pleasure still throbbing between your legs as you listened to the steady beat of his heart. 

“You’re beautiful, you know that?” He purred, gently petting your head. You hummed in response, not really believing it at this point. He picked up on your doubt, “I’m serious.” he doubled down. “You’re probably the prettiest girl I’ve ever been with.” He chuckled.

“That so?” You asked, taking the cigarette from him, “Then why aren’t I your girlfriend?” you asked, blowing smoke in his face. He grimaced as he waved it away.

“We’re doing this again? Seriously?” he seemed so…annoyed. Like this whole conversation equated to a nat he couldn’t quite seem to swat. 

“No.” you shut down, “We’re not.”

“Good.” he said, taking the smoke back, “I’ve told you before, we’re perfect as we are.”

“Perfect for you maybe.”

“Y/n.”

“What? You can’t seriously be shocked I don’t agree with you.” you scoffed, rage starting to bubble in your stomach.

“I’m not shocked. I just don’t get it. What could you possibly get out of a title that’s worth all of the fighting you’re doing for it?” you could feel yourself seething, your blood boiling over. Did he ever listen to you?

“Well, for starters I’d get the safety of knowing that you probably weren't out sleeping around with anyone willing to open their legs for you.” It was Getos turn to seethe. You could tell by the way his jaw clenched that you had struck a nerve deep inside him.

“Oh, is that what you think I’m doing in my free time? Just fucking anyone and everyone? That I’m so pussy motivated I just can’t keep it in my pants? Well if that's the case, Babe,” The word ‘Babe” had never sounded so dirty. You would have rather he called you slut, bitch, dumbass, anything. “What makes you think that having a “GiRlFrIeNd is going to magically make me loyal? Huh? What then, Gorgeous? And, not to be that guy, but you’ve let me fuck you in just about every venue, parking lot, and random bedroom this town has to offer, and I’m not even your boyfriend. So who’s to say you’re going to keep your legs shut just because we’re official, huh Sweetheart?” 

Suguru could make you feel on top of the world, or cheaper than dirt depending on his mood. That was the problem with English majors. They had a way with words and more often than not they used them for evil. Any heat you had left drained from your body, replaced only with an inescapable emptiness as you realized the Suguru you convinced yourself was next to you may not have even existed. 

And Geto knew he fucked up. He regretted the words as they were spilling out of his mouth, but he couldn’t stop himself and he couldn’t put them back now. The silence was heavy with all the words the two of you wanted to say to each other but couldn’t.

“Y/n-” Geto started, hand reaching for your shoulder, but all it did was break you out of your daze. You snapped, slapping his hand away as you got up and dressed.

“Don’t you fucking touch me. Don’t you ever fucking touch me again.”

“Y/n, wait, please, I didn’t mean that-” He struggled to defend himself, hurriedly putting on his pants. 

“You fucking said it Suguru! Lose my goddamn number, I am so fucking done here. It’s so good to know i’m just a fucking fleshlight to you.” you hissed, rushing out of his room.

“I never said that Y/n! You mean so much more to me than that, don’t go!-” he said, following you out.

“Clearly I fucking don’t!” You snapped. Oh good. His roommates, Satoru and Sukuna, were both sitting in the living room. 

“Yes you do Y/n, I love you!” He pleaded. He had never said that before. Satoru audibly gasped. Your entire body seized and seethed. You turned around and smacked him across the face without thinking, making Sukuna laugh,

“Don’t you ever fucking lie to me again Suguru Geto.”

“I’m not lying Y/n-”

“Shut up.” You cut him off. “I don’t fucking care anymore. You are the worst mistake I have ever fucking made.” You wanted to sound intimidating, but the tears in your voice gave you away. You rushed out of the door before he could see you cry, almost laughing at the “Have a good night!” Sukuna threw your way as you did. 

The sound of a car door closing snapped you out of your day dream. You were at another convenience store. When did you get here? Suguru had just plopped in the seat next to you, handing you a bag. 

“Hold these for me, will you, beautiful?” He asked. You did as he asked, looking into the bag.

“Suguru, these are four lokos.” You pointed out. 

“Yep. best flavors too.” While you may agree with the green apple, he also had a gold flavored one, which was just objectively wrong. Not the point.

“Dude, these will fuck you up, what do you think you’re doing?” You asked as he pulled into a park less than a block away from your apartment. The two of you had spent many a night here on the swings.

“Trying to get fucked up, duh.” He laughed as he took the bag. He handed you the green apple flavored can of death. You sighed as you took it, getting out of the car and moving to sit on the hood with him. You noticed he had turned off the CD, Like a Stone now drifting softly from your car speakers. You wondered when he finally gave up on it. You finally opened the green camo can, and winced as the drink electrocuted your now sober nervous system. 

The two of you fell into a comfortable silence as the alcohol saturated your systems. You wondered why you were here with him. What kept you coming back to Suguru Geto. Why couldn’t you just move on? Suddenly, you felt it in your bones when Chris Cornell groaned out “In your house, I long to be/ Room by Room, patiently/ I’ll wait for you there/ Like a stone” 

“I’m sorry.” He finally broke the silence. Your head whipped over to him. He was staring up at the stars. He looked so delicate in that moment. Like a gust of wind would shatter him into stardust. 

“What for?” You thought you knew, but you had to hear him say it.

“Everything.” Oh god, there were tears in his voice. It made you put down your four loko. “I’m sorry about all the shit I said to you the last time I saw you. I’m sorry I just tried to call instead of coming to face you, like a coward. And I’m sorry I couldn’t just man the fuck up and make you my girlfriend.” The words were tumbling out of him faster than he could process them, leaving him more vulnerable and honest than he would have liked.

It shook you. You weren't prepared for him to be so vulnerable with you that night. “It’s fine Suguru.” You muttered. He laughed and shook his head, finally looking at you.

“No it’s not. I hurt you.” He said matter of factly. “And then, I doubled down on it to make it all worse.” you were silent for a moment, staring at your dirty converse.

“W…why were you so against being with me officially?” You finally asked the question that had been weighing heavy on you for so long now. 

“I was scared.” He finally admitted. “I was so scared that if we put a label on it, things would change. That suddenly we wouldn’t be hanging out because we liked to be with each other anymore, that we’d just be doing it out of obligation.”

“Suguru, that's dumb.” You sighed, the booze making you a little more blunt that you otherwise would have been.

“I know that.” He laughed, bringing his knees to his chest. “I just…I don’t know. I thought if I kept you at an arm's length, I wouldn’t have to worry about it. There would be that space. But, I don’t know how to keep you at an arm's length. You’re like my favorite song, you get stuck in my head and I don’t even want to get you out. I just want you closer. So, I thought I’d maintain that space by just…not labeling us. And that clearly did more harm than good. When you left, I tried to just…let you go” he sighed, leaning back against the windshield of your car. He looked at you with love and adoration glimmering in his eyes. 

“I figured it was better that way, I tried to forget you. Yea, turns out that's a lot easier said than done. God, I can’t even think about listening to the Foo Fighters anymore. Which, Fucking Sucks because Everywhere But Here just dropped and I can’t bring myself to listen to it because you’re not there.” he laughed at his own stupidity, his palm meeting his forehead. He still couldn’t believe it took him losing you to realize how much you met. How cliche. 

You felt a lump in your throat. You had been wanting to listen to that album too, but couldn’t without him. It didn’t feel right. It felt like cheating. It was why you had picked up the fall out boy album instead. “You know,” You started, “You really hurt me. Like, you really fucking hurt me Suguru.”

“I know-” He sighed.

“But.” You cut him off, “I’ve also been a mess without you. It’s weird. You don’t really know how much you care about something until you’re missing it. And I thought I really cared about you even before the breakup.” You half chuckled to yourself. “And I mean, I want to still be mad about the fight. I want to hold it over your head. I wish I could hate you even half as much as I hate myself. But, I just can’t. I miss you.” you sighed, feeling foolish.

Suguru suddenly placed his hand on top of yours, pulling you out of your spiral. “I miss you too.” He confessed. Followed by a pause. “It’s not too late for us, ya know.” He finally said. “I’d really love to make you my girlfriend Y/n.”

🎵🎵🎵

Laughter filled the air as the two of you walked to your apartment building, deciding it was best to leave the car after the two of you had downed the alcoholic energy drinks. Buzzing with booze and caffeine was a different type of feeling. “Well, this is mine.” You smiled as the two of you walked up to your door.

“Sure is” Geto nodded, “Mind if I come in?” You couldn’t help but laugh at his sudden gentlemanly persona. 

“Was this your plan the whole time?”

“Not the whole time but it was definitely the end goal.” He admitted, and you couldn’t tell if his cheeks were red from embarrassment or alcohol. 

“And what was your plan if I said no?” You teased.

“Well, plan B was to see if you’d at least let me come in while I waited for Satoru to come pick me up.” He admitted. He really was one step ahead. 

“And if I said no to that?”

“Then I’d have one hell of a walk on my hands.” He laughed. You couldn’t help but giggle along with him. His laugh had always been infections. 

“Well, I’d hate to make you walk.” You chuckled as you unlocked your door, the two of you tumbling inside. In true Suguru fashion, he went straight to the stereo system in your room, looking to see what album you had been listening to. About a Girl filled the air of your small apartment. You chuckled softly as you joined him in your room. Of course he would play a CD he burned for you. 

You took a moment to actually take him in. mesh top clinging to his arms, an Alice in Chains shirt covering up the real action. His hair was messy from the walk, half up half down, and he now sported a slight stubble he hadn’t during your relationship. He looked good. He turned to look at you, dark eyes softening as he smiled softly.

“What?” He asked. You shook your head.

“Nothing.” you shrugged.

“Oh, so you wanna just keep eye fucking me? Ok, cool just making sure.” He laughed.

“And what's wrong with wanting to do that?” you laughed. He turned and smirked at you, moving to close the space.

“Why fuck me with your eyes when you could just fuck me?” He asked, a line you 're sure sounded way smoother in his head. You rolled your eyes as he wrapped his arms around your waist.

“Yea, real smooth there Cruzan Cassanova, you-” You didn’t get to finish your sentence. Sugurus mouth had connected with you, the taste of pineapple alcohol and cigarettes mixing on your tongue. You melted into him, your hands coming up to tangle in his hair. You felt your pulse quicken as the kiss heated up, the drinks of the night combining with his presence to make your head spin. He bit your lip, using the small gasp you let out as an opportunity to deepen the kiss. 

God, you missed him. Your body cleared up any doubt, if there was any, in that fact with the way it immediately reacted to him. You felt his hands start to wander, moving down your spine to grab your ass. You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying to pull him impossibly closer. Your body tensed as you felt his hand slip under the waistband of your jeans and the elastic of your panties.

“Look at you princess,” He pulled back to smirk, lust filling his eyes, “Already soaking wet. If I didn’t know any better, I’d say you missed me.” He never missed an opportunity to be condescending in bed, did he?

“Get fucked Suguru.” You groaned, your hips involuntary bucking into his hand as he pressed too fingers into your folds. You needed more.

“I assure you, I’m trying.” He grinned, removing his hand and making you almost scream in frustration. He kissed you before you could get a word in about how insufferable he could be. “I’m gonna take care of you Princess, don’t worry.” He assured you as he took your top off, “But it’s been awhile since I’ve been with my favorite girl. And I want to enjoy it.” he purred.

You weren’t sure how, but at some point he had gotten you on your bed and was taking off your pants. “Hey, no fair!” you panted as you realize. He paused what he was doing to look at you quizzically, trying to figure out when he had been anything other than fair. 

“You’re completely dressed and I’m basically naked.” You clarified sheepishly. Suguru held back a laugh at how cute you were. He finished his task, then took off his ratty band shirt.

“Better?” He asked. You felt like you were going to burn from the inside out as you looked at him. The mesh perfectly outlining every bump and crevice of his perfect body. Greek gods wished they looked like him. You nodded.

“Much.” you said as Suguru dragged you to the edge of the bed. You felt needy and helpless under him. He dropped to his knees in between your legs, kissing your inner thighs with intent to bruise. More than once he ghosted himself right where you needed him the most, filling you with frustration. “Suguru please..” You moaned out.

“Please what Princess?” He asked, smirking up at you.

“Please Sug, I need you to touch me.” You begged.

“But I am touching you Darling.” You almost kicked him.

“Suguru Please!” You begged.

“Princess, you can’t already be fucked stupid. I’ve barely touched you, Pretty-”

“Yea, that’s the problem!” you whined. He chuckled darkly at your pain, but relented.

“Where do you want me Princess? Right here?” he asked, fingers ghosting over your clothes core. Your breath hitched and you nodded frantically.

“Use your words Babygirl, you know the rules.” You took a deep breath.

“Yes, please Sir, I want you to play with my pussy.” You felt red hot saying all of those things out loud, but god the look in his eyes was fucking worth it. He was taking off your panties in an instant, marveling at the sting of slick that connected you to them until it snapped. 

“Fucking Christ.” He moaned to himself, one of his hands going to grind on his hard cock. “I’ve barely fucking touched you and you’re fucking gushing.” He chuckled, his hands finally moving to where you needed him to be. The moan you let out as his fingers finally found your clit was embarrassing. “Can anyone else do this to you Doll?” you shook your head almost violently.

“No, no sir. No one but you.” You panted softly, getting lost in the bliss currently filling your bloodstream. Shit, you 're not going to last long. 

“That’s what I thought.” He chuckled darkly, two fingers abruptly darting into your cunt and making your entire body tense. “My slutty girl only puts out like this for me, isn’t that right?” 

“Yes sir.”

“Good girl.” he said, rewarding you with a third finger. You gasped at the feeling, your soaking pussy taking anything it could get and more. He curled his fingers, sending a rush of electric endorphins through your body as he graced your g-spot. You moaned out his name, your hands curling into your sheets. 

“Just out of curiosity, what have you been doing for six months without me?” His eyes were dark, letting you know he wasn’t just asking what new books you’d read.

“Thought of you.” You moaned, a tight knot forming in your stomach. 

“Oh?” He asked, pausing his actions. He wanted details.

“I thought about you fucking me.” Right answer, he started moving again, “I thought about how good your cock stretched me out, and how good it felt inside me. I pretended it was you fucking me whenever I used my toys, but it wasn’t enough. Nothing feels like you do Sug,” You moaned out your sloppy confessional. His thumb had found your clit and was massaging it in time with his relentless fingers. His free hand groping himself through his jeans, needed even an ounce of friction. “I’m so fucking close..”

“You’re goddamn right nothing feels like Me princess.” he groaned to distract himself, least he cum in his jeans like a fucking teenager. You felt yourself speeding off a cliff, his words only aiding in pressing the accelerator. “You think a fucking toy could make you feel even an ounce of what I make you feel? That's naive at best Darling. You’re fucking mine nothing and no one is ever going to make you feel the way that I do. Cum for me Princess.”

A few strokes later and you came hard on his fingers, pussy clenching around him in beautiful ways. Suguru didn’t know if he wanted to watch your cunt or your face, but it didn't matter really. He didn’t plan on letting up anytime soon. He finger fucked you through your high, removing his fingers only after you had semi-calmed down. 

He moved over you, slipping his fingers into your mouth which you gladly cleaned off for him, always eager to show him how good you were. You pulled off with a loud pop, looking at him with doe eyes for approval. You assumed he approved, because he was very quickly freeing himself of his tripp pants and boxers with the efficiency only a mall goth could ever possess. He was in between your legs before you had even fully processed what was going on.

He leaned down to leave rough kisses on your neck, the blissful pain of the bruises forming almost distracted you from the feeling of his cock pushing into your soaking wet cum. Almost. Nothing could ever fully distract you from the euphoria of Suguru Getos cock stretching you out in ways only he could. You moaned out his name, hands flying to claw at his back through the mesh shirt. 

He faltered, letting out a shaking breath as he felt your warmth for the first time in what seemed like an eternity. “Fuck Y/n. I swear to whatever god there is this pussy was fucking made for me.” He said through a breathy laugh, pulling back just to push back in, stroking your g-spot beautifully and earning himself an embarrassing moan from you.

“So fucking good for me.” he groaned. Every stroke of his hips sent a new wave of electricity through your core, your body reacting to his every move and begging him for more. If Suguru Geto was a drug you were an addict. The pleasure sent your head swirling and your nerves on fire. 

“God you feel so fucking good,” he groaned as he rolled his hips into yours, “I can’t fucking believe you forgot you we’re mine.” He said, his movements suddenly becoming rougher, forcing you to yelp out his name. “You tried to leave me and then couldn’t even get yourself off Doll, it’s almost cute.” He mocked. “You’re mine do you understand? This cunt belongs to me, Do you get that?” you nodded, trying desperately to take in all his words while the coil in your stomach began to tighten again. He had never been so possessive before. 

“Answer me Slut.” He demanded with a rough buck of his hips. You nodded violently.

“Yes! Yes Sir.” You groaned. You wouldn't argue even if you could have. 

“Say it.” He demanded, “Say my name, say you belong to me.”

“I’m all yours Suguru, You’re and only yours. I’ll never leave again.” You said, your second climax coming on faster than you would have liked. Every stroke of his hips hit your g-spot dead on. He really did know your body better than anyone else.

“Damn right you won’t.” He groaned, his hind falling between your bodies to massage circles into your clit. Your entire body tensed with pleasure as you started to come undone again.

“Sug-”

“I know.” There was no mistaking the way your pussy fluttered around him. He knew you were close. “Cum on me, cum on cock.” You didn’t need to be asked twice. A few more strokes of his dick and you were coming undone all over it.

“You’re so pretty when you cum Princess.” He said darkly, somehow picking up his pace. He wasn;t worried about your pleasure anymore, you got yours. He wanted his. And you felt so good around him, warm and velvety. He could stay in between your legs forever and be happy. He moved your legs over his shoulders, managing to fuck you even deeper than he was before. Your overstimulated moans only adding fuel to his fire. 

“You’re so pretty whenyou’re fucked out, you know that?” He said, condescension dripping from his voice. “So fucking pretty, You’re gonna look even better with my cum dripping out of your pussy, you know that?” The way you moaned and the way you clenched around him was enough to send him over the edge, filling you to the brim and somehow still finding the energy to fuck some of it back into you before collasping onto you.

The two of you stayed like that for a while, him inside of you and holding you close to him. You felt more thankful than ever to be on the pill as you played with his soft hair.

“I…is fucking Closer playing? Nine Inch Nails?” You asked, suppressing a laugh as you tuned into the song. Suguru lifted up his head to listen, laughing as he registered Trent Reznors distorted growl. 

“Oh my god, I think it is.” He laughed, “I forgot this was on here.”

“Helluva song to hook up to.” You laughed. He nodded in agreement. 

“Yea, definitely not the best for a hookup. But maybe not bad for a round two?”

[hythlodaes]

and then came june

emile/leofard 9.2k words [read on ao3] explicit summary: modern AU. when leofard becomes friends with benefits with his university's star quarterback, he never expects to fall for him. (also ty @scionshtola for letting me borrow cori!! ♥)

Chapter One- Spring

Leofard has every reason to feel alone in this world.

He doesn't remember his parents, doesn't know what happened to them, only that he was left to grow up by himself. He used to wonder about his relatives—when other children would talk about grandparents, aunts, uncles, siblings, and he'd think, Where are mine? Why couldn't they take care of me?

He's long grown out of those thoughts. 

At nineteen, he loses the one person that he could call family. Not related by blood, Raimille still loves him as a son, still leaves him everything she has with only one request: that he graduates college. At nineteen, he moves across the country with the car he loves with all his heart, speakers blasting Nirvana the whole way. Years in foster care have taught him never to feel sorry for himself, only to chase the freedom that he finds out here. After watching Raimille waste away with sickness, he chooses life. 

And he never feels alone. He meets Stacia at orientation, and she instantly becomes the sister he always wished he had. Over the years he meets friends in classes, at parties, at work, and it becomes a new kind of family—silly, loud, and his. 

Then, early spring of his junior year, he meets Emile. 

—

It starts with a half joke between Leofard and Stacia at two in the morning, curled up on the couch of their apartment and barely awake after marathoning their favorite movies all day. We should throw a party, Leofard murmurs into the tv flashed dark, and Stacia—his usual voice of reason—doesn't say no. 

Their apartment ends up cramped with dozens of college students the next weekend, loud and messy and the kind of thing that makes Leofard laugh until his stomach hurts. He shines under the extra attention, his body warm from alcohol, and it’s the kind of happiness that feels just real enough. 

He runs into Stacia as the front door opens again. A bunch of tall, bulky guys spill through, and Leofard may not follow their school's football team the way Stacia does, but she's dragged him to enough games that he recognizes a few of them. 

She always says she comes from a football family, and well, that includes Leofard now too. 

"God, they're huge," he comments, and he's about to turn his attention away when his gaze catches the last of them ducking under the door. He’s a little taller than the rest, and dark brown hair falls to his chin but he tucks it behind his ear, big eyes searching the room before someone claps him on the shoulder. 

The guy smiles, eyes curving into half moons, and Leofard feels the corners of his lips threaten to raise. 

Stacia shakes her head. "Leo, I swear if you try to sleep with anyone on the football team..." 

"Who said anything about that?" he asks, but this time he lets his mouth pull into a grin. "I'm just appreciating the view." 

The night drags on, the music blurs from one song into the next. Leofard feels only slightly hazy—that sluggish kind of drunk that makes the room spin a little slower. He gives into it, hearing his own laughter as a loud and distant sound in his ears. 

He finds himself in the kitchen again, a full drink in his hand. Utata sits on the counter, singing along to the music at the top of her lungs, and Leofard keeps his focus on her for a moment too long. In hindsight, it's funny that he doesn't see it coming, but Leofard turns away, knocking into the person behind him, and the entirety of his drink spills onto their shirt on impact. 

He has to tilt his head back to meet wide brown eyes, shock evident in the gaze that looks down at him. Leofard recognizes him from when he came in, but he's even cuter up close, where he can make out the freckles on his cheeks, the pout of his lips as he glances down at his shirt. 

"Shit, sorry," Leofard says, wincing at the red splotch that trails from collar to hem. 

"It's okay," the guy says quickly. His voice is softer than Leofard expected and a little hard to hear over the music. He looks up over Leofard's head and into the kitchen. "I'll just rinse this off." 

Leofard almost laughs until he realizes he wasn’t joking.

"Hate to say it, but that's not coming out, baby," he yells over the music. "Come on, I'll get you a new one." 

"You'll—" he starts, but Leofard claps him on the back as he walks past him. He leaves no room for argument, and the guy follows him to his room. The door shuts behind them, quieting the party to a dull roar in the background. It grounds Leofard for a moment, steadies him against the blurriness of the alcohol in his system as he goes to his bureau. 

“You called me baby,” the guy says, and when Leofard glances over his shoulder, he’s looking around the room, pausing at his desk to pick up one of Leofard's records. He meets his gaze. “This is your apartment.” 

“Right on both counts," he answers, and the guy smiles at him. There’s a warmth in Leofard’s chest that has nothing to do with being drunk. "What's your name?"

"Emile." "I'm Leofard." 

"I know," he says, and clears his throat. "I've heard about you." 

Leofard’s hands still. "Really?" 

"Well...I've heard about your car." 

"Even better," he says, letting his lips split into a crooked grin. He turns his attention back to the bureau. "Given the obvious, I'm not sure if I have anything that'll fit you." 

"You really don't have to, I'm sure this will wash out." 

"As much as I enjoy the mental image, do you really want to walk around in a wet shirt the rest of the night?" he challenges, just as he finds an old band tee that's always been way too big for him. When he turns around, he has to smile at the pout on Emile's lips. It doesn't last long, but he continues to stare at Leofard for a moment before his shoulders slump in defeat.

Then he takes his ruined shirt off. 

Leofard has to bite down on his tongue—he should look away. He doesn't. His eyes roam along the thick muscle of Emile's chest and up to the line of his broad shoulders, back down the bulk of his arms. Lifting his gaze, he meets Emile's, who watches him watch, something not quite discernable in his eyes before he smiles shyly—it's the tilt of his chin, the curve of his lips... 

"Baby, you're something else," Leofard breathes out, and hands him the clean shirt. 

Emile rolls his eyes before he puts it on. It stretches around him—where it hangs loose on Leofard, it clings to Emile, but he doesn’t seem to mind. “Thank you.” 

"Don't mention it," he says, and he shifts his weight between his feet, unwilling to let the moment go. "So what’s this you heard about my car?”

“Oh,” he says. “Some of the guys were talking about it on the way over—said you could hear it halfway across campus.”

Leofard raises his brows, grinning helplessly. “It’s not that loud. Shit, I thought it would be something good.”

"Like what?" 

"Like what? I've worked on that car for the last six years of my life, it's perfect. A thing of beauty."

Emile laughs, watching him for a moment longer before he asks, "Will you show it to me?”

That single question sets his mind racing. For a moment, he can see it so clearly: Emile's long legs in the passenger seat, Leofard's hand on his thigh. He'd roll the windows down, stealing glances at his loose hair blowing in the wind while the Shins play over the speakers.

He thinks he’d show Emile anything, if he asked. 

"Play your cards right," he says. "I'll even take you for a ride." 

Emile laughs again, something closer to a giggle. He must be just as drunk, but he's so cute in Leofard's shirt, his big eyes bright with amusement. “You're flirting with me.”

“Well, you’re the one wearing my shirt.”

“You spilled your drink on mine!”

Leofard grins. “And I almost wish I did it on purpose.” 

A blush colors Emile’s cheeks as he turns his head away. “I wouldn’t say no,” he murmurs, and when he looks back, he doesn’t hide the way his eyes cast down Leofard’s body and back up to meet his gaze. He clears his throat. “You know—to a ride.” 

Leofard swallows hard. Everything in him says to move closer, to reach out, to touch him, but he holds himself back. “Come on, let's get another drink.” 

The sound of the party passes over them as Emile follows him out of his room. They walk down the hall together, but as soon as Leofard makes it to the kitchen, someone wraps an arm around his neck and yells into his ear. Leofard makes out half of the words, but as he looks behind him, it seems that Emile is similarly lost in the crowd. 

The stab of disappointment lasts longer than he expects it to. 

The night grows weary, the music still plays. Leofard is definitely drunk but it only makes him tired. There are a few times throughout the night when Emile catches his eye across the room, and a small smile crosses his lips. It feels like something secret exists between them—something merely waiting for the right moment. 

They collide again. 

This time it’s Emile’s hand on his shoulder, holding himself steady as his body sways closer, as he leans down. Distance is a second thought when he fixes those brown eyes on Leofard, lips curving up at the edges in a shy smile.

“I thought you were going to show me your car," he says, his soft voice loud over the music, but all Leofard can focus on is the strength of his grip on his shoulder, and as he blinks at him through the blurry lights of the living room, the only thought on his mind is touch him. 

This time he doesn't hold back.

He reaches out to wrap his arm around Emile's waist, hand grazing along his own shirt clinging to his body. He bites down on a grin at the way Emile shifts into his touch, the way his eyes widen when Leofard inches his fingertips beneath the hem, teasing at his warm skin. With their faces this close, Leofard just has to tilt his chin towards him to be heard, keeping his voice deep, quiet. “All you have to do is ask, baby.” 

“Please?” Emile murmurs against his ear, and Leofard closes his eyes for a moment. That single word sets the room spinning, keeping in time with the way his heart pounds in his chest. He turns his head towards him, noses brushing for a moment, breath ghosting against each other's lips, and he swallows hard as he pulls away. 

“Come on.” Fresh air sounds like a good idea. 

He turns his gaze to the door, and Emile is a step behind him as they head outside. There's a few people smoking on the front steps, but in the fuzzy dark they hardly pay Emile and Leofard any mind as they slip around the corner. The streetlights barely reach them here, washing the yard in gray light while everything sits muted and quiet. Only the distant sound of music from the house can be heard, a beat that sinks under the surface of the night.

It's cold, but Emile's body is warm as he crowds him against the side of the house, the excuse of seeing his car all but forgotten. Leofard touches the hem of his shirt again as Emile's head bends towards his, and there's a certain sway to them both, something hazy but desperate, lingering at the boundary line between them. 

Leofard crosses first, reaching up to wrap his arms around Emile's shoulders and pull him down into his space, where he meets his mouth with his own. Emile tastes like sugary punch, and he kisses him softly until he parts his lips. Leofard gasps against him, tangling his fingers in his hair as he deepens the kiss, a sound caught in the back of his throat as Emile's hands skim down his back and pull his body against his.

It's the right kind of messy—lacking just enough control to satisfy that desire in his chest. It says I need you without holding back, and Leofard hates how much he wants that from a stranger familiar enough to give it to him. 

He pushes further, hands seeking the touch of his skin beneath his shirt, and he moans when Emile slots his thigh between his, as a rhythm begins to build, heavy breaths warming the air between them, and—

"Hey, Emile, are you out here?" comes a voice from the dark.

They break apart. Leofard doesn't recognize whoever calls out towards them, but he keeps his eyes closed as he catches his breath. Emile’s touch shifts to his waist as he leans back in, his voice just above a whisper. "That's my ride home." 

Leofard cracks his eyes open. "You're kidding." 

“I wish I was.”

He has the thought to offer to take Emile back himself, but he's too drunk to drive. His next thought is to offer to let him stay the night, but he dismisses it the second it comes to mind. The thought of Emile taking his hands off of him is unbearable in this state, but he can't think of another way out. 

“Okay, Cinderella,” he relents, and he can see the stretch of Emile’s smile even in the dark. "This was fun."

"It was," he agrees, and for a moment Leofard thinks he's going to kiss him again, but he just shakes his head. "Goodnight." 

Leofard watches him walk back towards the lights of the driveway, where the silhouettes of his friends wait for him. Leofard just stares, his head in a daze as he blinks into the night. Emile opens the door to the passenger side of an old jeep, throwing one last look over his shoulder before he gets in. 

Headlights pass over the yard and then disappear down the street. Leofard tilts his head back against the house, willing his body to calm down before he goes back inside, where the party slows to a stop. Stacia raises a brow when they meet in the kitchen, but he merely shrugs a shoulder at her despite the disappointment in his chest. 

When he finally makes it back to his room, he has to laugh at Emile's stained shirt left on his bed. Cinderella indeed. He tosses it into his closet and crawls under the blankets. The room still spins even when he closes his eyes, but he thinks about the warmth of Emile’s body along his, the press of his lips, and what could’ve happened if they had a little more time. 

He lets his hand drift down his stomach—an echo of Emile's touch—but almost isn’t quite enough. 

—

It doesn’t stay on his mind for long. 

He’d be lying if he said he didn’t keep an eye out for Emile on campus—he’d be hard to miss, anyway—but a week goes by, then another, and Leofard lets go of the idea of running into him again. He never mentions it to Stacia, who would only make fun of him for it anyway, he merely chalks it up as a missed opportunity, something that wasn't meant to be. 

Where he's content to let it stay, until a few weeks later. 

Utata invites him and Stacia over on a Friday night. She says she's throwing a small party, but they all know better. She's one of his only friends that lives with her family off campus, which means whenever her parents are out of town, they have the whole house to themselves. 

Leofard walks over with Stacia—they meant to show up early but they're both perpetually late, and the party is in full swing by the time they get there. Cars line the street and the yard, and inside the lights are low, skimming over the crowd in a blue haze. It smells like smoke and like someone spilled punch, which makes him think of a stained shirt, and—

"I'm going to grab a drink," he yells over the music, and Stacia nods at him before she disappears into the packed living room. 

He navigates through the crowded hall, and it’s funny how everyone feels a little familiar at this point, strangers faces that he can pick out from classes over the years, from this same party he's been to time and again. It's always the same and yet they keep doing this, keep repeating it because it's the smallest break from the stress of school, from the stress of figuring out what they're supposed to be doing with their lives.

At the end of the hall, he runs into Cori. 

They’re bent down in front of Utata’s dog—Pickles, a fluffy collie that's currently nuzzling his face into her lap as they scratch behind his ear. Leofard’s used to seeing them at school, their similar majors all but guaranteeing shared classes over the years, but they've become something like friends at this point. 

Mostly they share the same love of cars, which—and he would never admit this to anyone, not even Stacia—Cori is far more knowledgeable of. 

"Hey," he says, and a wave of hair cascades over their shoulder when they glance up at him. 

“Hi,” they return. "No one was paying attention to Pickles." 

“It's a good thing you're here, then," he says. "I was just going to grab a drink, do you want any—“

His voice cuts off as he glances into the kitchen, where his gaze lands on the one person he thought he'd never see again. Big brown eyes curve into half moons as he smiles, loose hair curves around his chin as he talks, the light of the kitchen makes his skin golden. 

Emile is here. 

“Leo?” It’s Cori who says it, and Leofard barely registers his own name.

"Sorry, I—" he starts, but then Emile looks over, brows lifting when he notices Leofard. A small smile crosses his lips, but someone grabs him by the arm, pulling him out of the kitchen. He lifts his drink towards Leofard for a moment and then he's gone again. 

"Someone you know?" Cori asks. 

"Yeah," he answers, and he clears his throat, forcing himself to look away. "I'll catch up with him later." 

He tells himself that he'll let it happen naturally, that if they run into each other again then he'll talk to him, but it's just a few minutes later that he finds himself fumbling over an excuse to Cori before heading in the same direction that Emile left in. 

The music has definitely gotten louder, and the sound of laughter and conversation has risen to match it. The living room is a mess of people dancing and silver balloons that get thrown into the air, skimming along hands raised from the crowd. Emile shouldn't be hard to find, but Leofard doesn't see him anywhere. Maybe he left already—

"Looking for someone?" Emile asks, and Leofard turns towards the sound of his voice. There's something so bright about his brown eyes as he grins. "Hi, Leofard." 

"Hi," he returns, and he catches himself smiling back. "I didn't think I'd see you again." 

"Me neither. I owe you a shirt." 

"Don't worry about it," he says. "Looked better on you, anyway." 

Emile glances away for a moment before huffing out a laugh. "You're so..."

"What—charming?" he suggests. 

"Something like that."

"Come on, let's dance." 

He immediately shakes his head. "Oh, I'm not much of a dancer." 

"No one's judging, baby," he says. "Besides, everyone's too drunk to care." 

"Are you?"

Leofard didn't even stop for a drink. "Not yet." 

"Me neither," he says. "I have a meeting with my coach first thing in the morning, I shouldn't even be here." 

"Miss me that much?" 

Emile laughs. "Yes Leo, I've actually spent all this time looking for you." 

"Well here I am," he returns. "May as well make the most of it." 

Leofard watches him press his lips together, the way his gaze shifts over him as he considers it. His shoulders lower the slightest bit and Leofard smiles, knowing his answer already.

"Fine," Emile says. "One song."

"Before you turn into a pumpkin, yes I remember," he says, and he takes him by the hand into the crowd. 

He was right, hardly anyone even looks over at them as they begin to move to the music. The beat is fast and heavy, pulsing through him as he keeps his eyes locked on Emile. They move closer and closer and impossibly closer, and  Emile puts his hands on Leofard, long fingers pressing into his waist. 

More.

Leofard raises a brow before he turns in his embrace, moving back until he fits against Emile’s chest. Emile’s hands skim down to rest low on his belly, and Leofard covers them with his own as he rolls his hips against him. 

Blue dimmed lights, the kiss of balloons against the ceiling, he blinks in and out of a dream. There’s something possessive about Emile’s touch, and Leofard lets his head fall back against his shoulder as the music beats through him. Are both of their hearts pounding? Emile’s head lowers to his neck, and he can feel the warmth of his breath as his lips ghost against his skin—

The song ends. 

For a moment, neither of them move. 

"You know," Leofard says, turning to face him. "We have unfinished business, Cinderella." 

"What do you mean?" he asks, but his hands are still on Leofard, and they inch the slightest bit lower.

"I mean," Leofard starts. "I never showed you my car." 

Amusement makes a home in Emile's gaze. “I don’t think that’s what we were doing.” 

“No? Maybe we’ll have to try again.”

Emile glances at his lips for a long moment before meeting his eyes again. The next song starts but they don't move, still standing too close, faces angled just right—all it would take is the slightest effort to kiss. 

It's been weeks, but it's the same feeling crawling up Leofard's chest. 

"Come on," he murmurs. The music drowns out his voice but Emile's hand finds his as he leads them through the crowd. Going outside didn't work for them last time, and he knows Utata would kill him if he took Emile to her room. Still, they go upstairs where the house is emptier, the music is still loud but the sound of voices dims to the background. 

They slip into the bathroom. 

Silver blue light streams in through the window, echoing across the tiled wall. The silhouette of Emile steps ahead of him, and they stay in the dark, bodies moving closer. Emile is so big and solid and yet he yields to Leofard, lets him crowd him against the sink. It's quiet enough that Leofard can hear the hitch in his breath, the small sound in the back of his throat when Leofard puts his hands on him. 

In the dark, their lips meet. 

It's better than his drunken memory, sharper without the haze of alcohol blurring the lines between them. His heart races as they rush into it, his own desperation climbing as they continue what was cut short. He kisses Emile's jaw, lips brushing along warm skin as he works down to his neck, and he has to hold back a grin as Emile's hands bunch at his shirt, pulling him closer. 

"Isn't this," Emile breathes out, "a bit of a risk?" 

"Maybe," Leofard returns, but he lets his hand skim down to Emile's jeans, tugging at the waistband. "I can stop if you want, baby." 

Emile pushes his hips into his touch. “Keep going.” 

Leofard bites down on another grin before he presses his mouth to his shoulder, hand reaching lower to undo the button of his jeans. Heat surges through him at the sound of Emile's shaky breath, at the crack of his voice loosening into a moan as Leofard finally touches him. 

It’s like the rest of the room disappears. Leofard pulls back enough to watch his face, to see his brows push together, his lips part, the way his eyes shut as his head tips back. He does not hide his pleasure, and in the ghost of the moonlight, Leofard is transfixed. 

"Wait," Emile murmurs, and Leofard looks up in question when he puts a hand on his wrist to stop him. "I want to—with you." 

Leofard is about to ask what he means when he reaches over to tug at Leofard's jeans, a small smile on his lips as he looks up to meet his gaze. His hair is a mess, lips still parted, his big eyes wide as he watches him—Leofard doesn't stand a chance. 

He's already close, and he groans openly as Emile takes them both in hand. Somehow they find each other's lips again, and they kiss as their hips work together, the sound of the party all but gone as they pant into each other’s mouths. For a moment, all that matters is the rush of warmth through his body, building with each stroke until his breath catches in his throat.

They’re still kissing when they come. 

Leofard tilts his head back, eyes squeezed shut until the feeling begins to fade. The world comes back to him in pieces: the distant sound of music playing, Emile's hand steady on his hip, the room shifting into focus when he opens his eyes again. 

He catches Emile's gaze, and they both laugh.  

"Utata would actually kill me if she knew."

Emile shakes his head. "I won’t say a word." 

And then it's just the two of them in a dark bathroom. They clean up, taking turns washing their hands and fixing their hair and clothes. Leofard almost wants to put the lights on just to see the flush of Emile's skin, but once they're both ready, they slip back into the empty hallway, where a rare question leaves Leofard's mouth: “What if I asked for your number?”

Emile blinks at him for a moment. “Oh, I don't really date. It's kind of hard with my schedule, and I don't want to commit to anything if I'm not sure about it—not that I don't like you! I just don't know if it would be a good idea, or if I'm even in a place to figure that out..." 

His voice trails off and his brows push together as he watches Leofard for a reaction. 

Leofard laughs. 

"Relax baby, I'm not exactly boyfriend material either," he says. "I just wanted to hook up again." 

"Oh," Emile says, and he begins to laugh as well. "Sorry." 

"It's okay," he returns. "We can leave it like this, too." 

Emile bites his lip. "No—no, I'd like to see you again." 

"Yeah?" He fishes his phone from his pocket and opens his list of contacts before handing it over. He watches the way the light flashes against Emile's face as he enters his number. It makes his freckles stand out, and it's hard not to stare at the way they cross over his nose. He clears his throat. “I don’t date either, you know.” 

“Okay,” Emile says, and he lets their hands brush when he gives him his phone back. “So no expectations?”

“No expectations," he confirms. "We can just be friends."

Emile smiles. “Just friends.”

—

If Leofard knew, in that moment, that Emile was in love with someone else, he probably still would've gone for it. 

If he knew how easily his own heart could break, how this conversation would be the one he'd come to regret—

Well. 

Maybe that would've made him pause.

—

He sleeps in too late the night day, the sun bright behind his blinds and warming him even as cool air seeps in through the cracked open window. His blanket is in his fist, curled up beneath his chin as he takes in a deep breath and stretches his body out for a moment before relaxing back into his pillow.

He gives himself a few more minutes; it’s been a while since he's felt this good. 

It's noon by the time he gets up, and he shuffles into the kitchen with his blanket still wrapped around him. Stacia's at the table with a steaming cup of coffee and an open book, but she stares blankly at the space in front of her. It takes a moment for her to look up at him, and the looming afternoon light only highlights the dark circles under her eyes. 

“You good?” he asks. 

“Hungover,” she returns. “You?”

He bites his lip for a moment as he recalls last night, the phantom memory of Emile's hands on him, the new phone number in his contact list. “Just tired.” 

It’s a testament to her hangover that she doesn’t notice the tone of his voice—light and entirely too pleased with himself—but he leaves her to her coffee while he makes breakfast. Though he is prone to burning most of the food he cooks, he is more than capable of eggs and toast, and he pours himself a cup of coffee to sip at while he works. 

Sometimes it's like this: bare feet on the cool kitchen tiles, warm sunlight on his skin, the smell of coffee in the air—moments of the smallest, most simple happiness can happen so unexpectedly. 

When he sits back down, he takes a breath and asks, “What do you know about Emile?” 

Stacia's head pops up from her book. “Jenidaut?”

“Maybe?” he says, lifting a shoulder. He doesn’t have a clue what his last name is. Through a mouthful of toast, he says, “He’s on the football team.” 

“Yeah,” she answers. “He’s the best quarterback this school has ever seen. He’s a sophomore and there were already rumors of a Heisman this season.”

Leofard just blinks at her. 

“You've seen him play. Do you remember that playoff game last year?" she tries. "They put him in at the last second and he caught the game winning pass—I lost my voice from screaming."

See, he remembers actually going to the games, but as far as what happens during them? “I thought Emile was the quarterback...”

“Well not at first, but Varlineau injured his shoulder and Emile took his place,” she says. “You really weren’t paying attention, were you?”

“I pay attention,” he argues, but quickly relents at the look she gives him. “Just not that much.”

She shakes her head. “Why are you even asking about him?”

Hands on his body, head tipped back with a groan, the heat of his skin—Leofard clears his throat. "I might've hooked up with him last night." 

"What," she exclaims, and he has to laugh at the way she sits up, eyes wide, her hangover all but forgotten. "The hell, Leo, why wouldn't you start with that? Tell me everything!"

It starts in their own apartment, it starts with a stained shirt, it starts with kisses that lead nowhere in the dark. It leads to last night, to their dance, familiar enough with each other to push them over the edge. He brushes up against the details, skims past them, but he fails to hide his smile at the memory of the two of them slipping away from the rest of the party. 

He can tell that she notices, but all she says is, “So, what—are you going to call him?” 

“Probably,” he says, lifting a shoulder. The truth is, he can’t imagine passing up another opportunity to see him, but he just smiles before he takes another sip of coffee—

“We’ll see what happens.” 

—

He gives it a couple days. 

It crosses his mind while he partakes in his favorite activity—laying on his bed and staring at the ceiling, music playing too loud while he ignores his homework. He can't seem to focus, mind spinning between thoughts but unable to land on one, and he turns his attention to his phone laying at the other end of his bed. 

Emile would make a better distraction. 

Still, he stares for a long moment without moving, and the second he wonders if he's nervous, he gets up and makes himself call. 

It rings a few times before the soft sound of Emile's voice comes through. "Hello?"

Leofard smiles. "What's this I hear about you being a hotshot quarterback?" 

There’s a beat of silence, and then: “Leofard?”

"Who else?"

He hears him laugh. "And you call me a hotshot."

"Am I wrong?" he says. "My roommate was just talking about some play you did last season, thought I'd see if it’s true." 

“Yes, it's true,” he says. "Is that the only reason you called?" 

"No," he returns, biting down on another smile. "Let's go for a drive, I'll pick you up." 

"In the infamous car that I still have yet to see?"

"The one and only." 

"Alright," he says. "Give me a half hour."

He tells him where his dorm is, and Leofard gives himself approximately twenty minutes to look nice before he has to leave. One glance in the mirror, he ruffles up his curls and takes off his old sweatshirt and replaces it with his favorite beat up denim jacket. 

Stacia is in the living room when he comes out of his room, and she takes one look at him and raises a brow. "Off on a date?" 

"It's not a date," he says, grabbing his keys. 

"Off to get laid?"

This time he laughs. "I'll catch you later." 

"Be safe, have fun!" she calls out after him. 

Early evening means the campus is quiet. Leofard lived in the dorms his freshman year before moving in with Stacia, so he's familiar with them. He navigates across campus to Emile's building, biting down on a grin at the sight of him waiting on the front steps. 

Emile looks unfairly good, simply in a sweatshirt and jeans, hair falling loose from his ponytail. He looks up and waves. 

Leofard is in trouble. 

"Hey, gorgeous," he says as he gets in the car. 

“Hi,” Emile says, smiling in that shy way. His attention turns to the dashboard. "So this is it."

"This is it," he says. "What do you think?"

"It's nice." 

His voice tips up at the end, almost like a question, and Leofard can't help but laugh. “You sure about that?”

“I don’t know anything about cars,” he admits. “But it's pretty." 

"I've always been obsessed," Leofard says as he pulls out of the parking lot. "I got my first job just so I could buy it."

He worked every day after school. Raimille wanted to pay for it for him but he wouldn't let her, convinced he needed to prove that he could do it himself. Part of him regrets it, if only for how much time he unknowingly lost with her. 

"I like that,” Emile murmurs, the sound of a smile in his voice as they take to the tree lined streets, headlights coasting over gravel. "You know, I never actually learned how to drive." 

“Shit, baby, I’ll teach you,” he returns. "Why not?"

"I was just busy with football, I guess," he says. "And my friends were always willing to drive me." 

"So football is your thing." 

There's a long pause, but then, "Yeah, I guess." 

Leofard's brows dip down. "Not your thing?" 

"I don't know," Emile answers, and there's a slight laugh in his voice. "I don't love it anymore. Not the way I used to, at least." 

"Stacia says you're the best quarterback this school has seen."

"Stacia?" 

"My roommate," he says. "Which is an understatement—she's more like an annoying sister. And my best friend. She's the biggest fan in the world, drags me to your games sometimes." 

"You've seen me play?" 

"Don't get too excited—it's kind of like you and my car," he explains. "I don't know anything about it, but it's pretty to look at." 

Emile laughs. "You're such a flirt."

"And you've got a nice ass," he returns. "Are we just stating the obvious?" 

"Leo."

"Yes?"

In his peripheral, Emile shakes his head. "Where are we going?" 

"I don't know," he answers. The evening begins to settle into night, deep hues of the sky bleed into the orange sunset peering through the spaces between trees. Leofard smiles to himself. "Don't you ever just want to get out for the sake of getting out?" 

"That's usually when I go for a run." 

He glances over at Emile, getting the feeling that there's far more to him, but he won't ask. "Then let's see where it takes us." 

It takes them across town for ice cream, which takes them to an empty park. It's too cold to get out, so they sit in the parking lot, music playing softly while they talk. He learns that Emile's from Maine, that his eyes light up when he talks about his sisters, and that he's a music major. He brushes it off when Leofard asks, but he sounds more excited about playing guitar than he does about football. 

He learns that Emile is a good listener, even if the spoon at his lips is distracting, and Leofard ends up talking the night away. Everything from school to work to his car. He doesn't mention Raimille, doesn't mention family at all, because he never wants his loss to define him.

And then it's sugar sweet kisses in the dark, Leofard fumbling over the console to settle in his lap. It's cramped against the roof of the car, but nothing else matters when Emile's lips are on his, when his hands roam up his thighs as his heart picks up a beat, breath growing heavy as their kisses deepen. 

Emile reaches up to tangle his fingers through his curls, pulling him that much closer, and Leofard rolls his hips against his, grinning when he moans into his mouth. At twenty two, he feels like a teenager getting off in his car again, something secretive and exciting about it. Emile kisses his neck and he can't help but let his head fall back, giving into it as it overwhelms him. 

He stays in Emile's lap afterwards, head on his shoulder, face tucked into his neck. Neither of them say anything for a moment, but Emile's hands linger on his back, smoothing over him in an absent rhythm. It doesn't last long, but it's nice. 

When Leofard pulls away, they smile at each other as he reaches up to pat Emile's hair down, and they clean up the best they can before he scrambles back into the driver's seat. 

He turns the music up as they drive back to campus, the windows cracked and leaking in cool air. Each time he looks over at Emile, he's staring out the window, and Leofard can't tell if he's okay or not, but maybe he just doesn't know how to accept something peaceful. 

He pulls up to Emile's dorm, but Emile stays a little longer, looking over at him with a soft expression.

"You should call me again."

Leofard grins. "You can count on it, baby." 

—

It begins in a bathroom of a crowded party, and what starts as intermittent, becomes frequent.

They learn each other's schedules, and between classes and Emile's workouts and Leofard's job, they find time during the week to hang out. Since Emile lives in a dorm, they always meet at Leofard's apartment—Leofard either picks him up, or Emile will walk over—and in the privacy of his room, he finds out just how much better it can get. 

That first shirtless glimpse of Emile the night they met couldn't have prepared him for the sight of him stretched out naked in his bed. Leofard can hardly look away, can never keep his hands to himself, always tracing his fingertips along warm skin. They learn the ways their bodies fit together, how to say more and now through touch, through breathless gasps, through the way their eyes meet, tangled up and not letting go until they're whispering jokes and giggling into the small space between them. 

Whenever they finish, Emile doesn't leave right away. He never stays the night, but they always end up talking for hours, about school and friends and life, video games and tv shows, or stories about Leofard's job at the pizza shop down the road. One time they watched a marathon of Saved by the Bell while they ate leftovers from the fridge, and Leofard ended up driving him back to his dorm at three in the morning, Elliott Smith playing softly to fill the tired quiet between them: I’d say you make a perfect angel in the snow. 

Leofard has had friends with benefits before, but this is the first time it feels like they're actually friends. 

It's nothing more, despite what Stacia says. She's only run into Emile a few times in the apartment, but she always raises a brow with a smirk, always teases Leofard the next day about his boyfriend coming over. 

Leofard just laughs it off. 

He's too young to be tied down, too selfish to be good at a relationship. The thought of trying to make this romantic sounds exhausting, like a performance neither of them know the steps to. What exists between them is the easiest thing in the world—he couldn’t be happier with this arrangement. 

No expectations, they’d said, and it was a good idea. 

It begins to change with this:

Early May means finals, and with one year left of school, one year left of his promise to Raimille, Leofard needs to make sure he passes these classes. The only one that gives him trouble is his English paper—he's never been good at planning or gathering sources, and he keeps putting it off until he has ten pages due the following day, and maybe two done, at most. 

It becomes a marathon to finish on time, surrounded by stacks of books and a perpetually full cup of coffee at his side, but he gets frustrated with himself again and again as he loses focus. He stares at his laptop for so long that his vision feels a little blurry, so when his phone rings, he accepts the distraction for what it is. 

"Hello?"

"Hey," says Emile on the other end of the line, voice soft.

Leofard bites his lip as he stares at the ceiling. "What's up?" 

Emile is quiet for a moment, and then: "I was wondering if you're free tonight." 

Leofard spares a glance at his laptop. "Shit, I wish I was, but I’m going to be stuck working on this paper all night." 

"That’s okay," Emile says, and there's something distant and strange about his voice, but Leofard can't tell whether or not he sounds disappointed. "I don’t want to—we don’t have to have sex.” 

Leofard frowns at the ceiling. They've never hung out for any other reason. “What do you mean?”

“I’m just…” he trails off again. “Sorry, I’ve been having a really hard day, and I don't want to be alone. My friends ask too many questions and I—I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“So I’m an option because I don’t care?” he jokes.

“God, no, that sounds terrible,” he says quickly. “You’re just…easy to be around, Leo.”

Leofard’s left with the sound of his heart beating in his chest. For a moment, his thoughts blur together and it feels like he only hears himself say, “Come over." 

Emile lets out a soft breath. "I promise I won't distract you."

Something in Leofard's stomach twists uncomfortably, and he wants to tell him that that doesn't really matter. What comes out instead is, "Do you want me to come get you?" 

"No, I'll be okay," he says, and pauses. "Thank you." 

Leofard has a hard time focusing on his paper after that, unsure of why it bothers him so much. He gets a single sentence done by the time there's a knock on the door, and Leofard gets up to answer it before he can think better of his appearance. 

He regrets it when the door opens and Emile’s expression shifts into a grin. “I didn’t know you wore glasses.”

Leofard scrunches his nose as he looks down at his outfit—an old baggy t-shirt and sweatpants. “Sorry I didn’t get dressed up for you, baby.”

“No, I like this,” he says as he steps inside. “You look comfy.” 

It's difficult not to be affected by those brown eyes steady and warm on him, the softness of his smile. “Don’t get any ideas, I will indulge them.”

Emile laughs. “I’ll be good. Look, I brought my books so I can study too.”

He holds up his bag. Leofard shakes his head. “Do you ever get tired of being so cute?”

He lets him inside, and he ignores Stacia’s grin as she glances up at them from the couch. Emile stops to greet her while Leofard goes to his room, where his laptop is still open, books spread out everywhere. He cleans off a space for Emile on the bed, who merely raises a brow before settling in beside him. 

It feels oddly intimate. They work separately but they're merely inches apart, brushing elbows and passing books and stray comments. Leofard wasn't sure he'd get anything done with Emile here, but he finds it easier to focus with someone beside him. 

For the most part, Emile seems fine. Leofard finds his thoughts drifting towards what could've happened today that he's having such a hard time, but he can't ask—Emile specifically came to him because he won't ask. Still, it doesn't stop him from worrying. They know each other but they don't, their intimacy is limited to the physical, and that's all they wanted, right?

He doesn't know why he can't stop thinking about it. 

It becomes more obvious as the night goes on. Emile doesn't move for several minutes at a time. Leofard gets through half a page of his paper without Emile turning a single page of his book, and when he looks over, Emile’s gaze is fixed blankly at the space in front of him, worrying at his lip with his free hand. It takes too long for him to notice Leofard watching, but he offers him a closed lip smile when he does. Leofard smiles back.  

With two pages to go, it creeps past midnight. Leofard is ready to throw his laptop out the window when Emile's book slips from his hands onto the bed. He looks over to the dull light of the lamp casting shadows over his face pressed into his pillow, eyes closed and chest rising and falling in a slow rhythm as he sleeps.

Leofard stares for far too long. 

He half asses one more page, makes the margins and the spaces between lines bigger so that it goes onto another, and closes his laptop. Emile shifts but he doesn't wake up, and Leofard debates for a moment what to do. To wake him and send him home seems cruel, especially if he's having a bad day. To let him stay here feels...too close. 

Carefully, he gets up to brush his teeth, but by the time he gets back he still hasn't decided. He stands in the doorway of his own room, watching the late night shadows cast over the shape of Emile in his bed, and something tugs in his chest. He closes the door with a soft click and crawls back in beside him, pulling the blanket over them both. 

This time Emile stirs, eyes blinking open slowly. "Leo?" 

"Hey," he says, his voice whisper soft. "You fell asleep." 

“Oh. Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

"Just stay—it's too late to walk back and I'm too tired to drive." 

He doesn't think that either of these things are true. 

Emile is quiet for a moment, but then, "Are you sure?" 

"Yeah," he murmurs, voice drifting off. He reaches over to turn off the light. "Of course, baby." 

He can't remember the last time he shared a bed with anyone—maybe not since his second foster home, when the other kids would come to his room at night and he'd tell them stories until they fell asleep. He takes a deep breath at the memory, and watches the ceiling until his eyes grow used to the dark. Judging from the sound of Emile's breathing, he falls back asleep quickly, and Leofard lets his head turn towards him, foolishly wondering what it would be like to reach out and touch him. 

He closes his eyes and waits for all of it to pass. 

—

The sun spills into the room through Leofard’s cheap blinds, paled light that still stirs him awake. There’s a weight around him, something solid that seeps warmth into his body, and his brows furrow for a moment before it comes back to him.

Right. Emile stayed the night.

Leofard knows their size difference well, but for the first time he lets himself catalog it—the way Emile’s broad chest spans past his shoulders, his heavy arm curled around his waist, and his cheek pressed to the top of his head. Each point of contact says you’re safe, and to Leofard’s surprise, he doesn’t mind.

He’s never needed anyone. He’s never wanted anyone like this, but he isn’t awake enough to overthink it as he lets himself inch further back into Emile’s space, sliding his arm along his to cradle it against his chest.

Blinking through the dust dazed light, he breathes in time with him—something steady to pull him back under as his eyes fall closed.

Distance will be easier in the morning.

—

Except—then he's alone. 

He wakes faster this time, but the only evidence that Emile was here at all is the rumpled blanket beside him. Something in his chest pulls at the sight, but he refuses to call it disappointment. Leofard wouldn't have woken him to say goodbye either, if their roles were reversed. 

Putting on his glasses, he glances at the clock to see that he still has a couple hours to submit his paper, and he chooses to ignore his laptop in favor of coffee. 

He stretches out his back as he gets up, but there's a crick in his neck from spending all day working on his paper yesterday. It's forgotten the moment he opens his door and hears the sound of voices trailing from the kitchen. He frowns to himself, but when he turns the corner, Emile and Stacia sit at the table eating breakfast, so deep in conversation that neither of them notice him. 

"I trust you saved me some coffee?" he asks, interrupting. They both look up, and there's a sly smile on Stacia's face and an earnest one on Emile's. He doesn't know how to process the way it makes him feel. 

"Sorry, you're on your own," Stacia says. 

Emile laughs. "There's some left." 

Leofard still just blinks at both of them before he goes to pour himself a cup of coffee, his brain struggling to catch up with the situation, and for once in his life he's quiet as he listens to them talk about football. Stacia's voice is bright and more excited than he remembers it ever being, and Emile indulges her, going back over specific plays and explaining the story behind them. 

“That pass from Estinien,” she says, and apparently it’s all she needs to say. Leofard watches the twitch of Emile’s mouth, the way he looks down at the table as he runs a hand through his hair. 

“It was his idea,” he says quietly. The memory seems to come to him, and he smiles a little to himself before he looks back at Stacia. “We used to practice those kinds of throws together all the time—it only worked because no one was expecting it.” 

But before Stacia can say anything, he continues, "I should probably go, though. I have a final at noon." 

"I'll drive you back," Leofard offers before he can think about it. 

Emile glances at him, his expression soft. "Thank you. I'll go grab my books." 

Leofard just nods as he gets up and leaves the kitchen. He wants to ignore the look on Stacia's face but it's impossible with the way her lips curve into a smug grin. 

"Your boyfriend stayed the night,” she says the moment he’s out of earshot. 

"Stacia," he returns, not quite a warning but more of you know it's not like that. "He fell asleep, I wasn't about to kick him out." 

"Of course not." She takes a sip of her coffee, and just when he thinks she's going to let it go, she says, “I’m assuming you were the little spoon.”

“Stacia.”

She laughs, but then her voice turns a shade softer. "He's a sweet guy." 

"He is," Leofard lets himself admit, and he stares in the direction that Emile left, suddenly overwhelmed with the need to tell her we didn’t have sex last night.

Because there's a limit to their relationship. There is a defined boundary, and last night doesn't fit within that. He opens his mouth to say something, but nothing comes out. A moment later, Emile bounds back into the kitchen, bag slung over his shoulder and surely way too energetic for this early in the morning. Leofard just smiles. "Ready?" 

The drive back to his dorm takes only a few minutes, but Leofard can't help but sneak little peaks at him along the way. The windows are down because they’re always down, and Emile’s hair blows with the wind while music plays softly, morning light along his profile. Leofard tries not to think about his body curled around his, different from the way they usually touch, and ignores the thoughts that creep into the back of his mind. 

He parks outside Emile's dorm, and Emile turns towards him. 

"Thank you," he says, his voice so earnest that, for a moment, Leofard can't return his gaze. 

"Of course," he returns, and he thinks too hard about what to say next, settling on, "Did it help?"

"It did," he says with a nod, and he leans in close, sliding a hand along Leofard's jaw as he pulls him in for a soft kiss. Leofard gasps against his mouth but leans into it, letting his lips part against his and lingering for too long. 

“As a promise for next time,” Emile murmurs against his mouth.

“Next time,” Leofard echoes, opening his eyes as he pulls away. “Let’s celebrate when finals are over.” 

Emile smiles. "Good luck!"

He gets out, and Leofard is left to watch him go. Something stirs within him, a feeling that is both unfamiliar and unwelcome, and as the door to the dorms closes behind Emile, Leofard stares for a long moment before he looks back at the road. 

Under his breath he mutters, “What the hell...”

He goes for a drive.