#IVE BEEN WORKING ON THE STORY FOR TWO YEARS WITH MY FRIEND | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

heeology · 7 months ago

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i want nobody but you | p.sh

synopsis → you and sunghoon have known each other your whole lives and although you've both dealt with jokes from classmates since elementary school on how you two would end up together, that never ended up happening; you two would brush it off and then move on. you never really thought about pursuing something with him romantically, especially since you like things with a more casual approach. but once sunghoon's girlfriend becomes a part of the picture, you can't help but feel these feelings consume you. being the way you are, however, you managed to push them down and you at least thought you got over them until you realize maybe they never left at all. or even worse: they were always there.

feat. → yujin (ive) & sungchan (riize)

genre → college au, friends to somewhat enemies to lovers, romance, smut, angst (eh, ig), slowburn (ig? srry lmao)

pairing → nonidol!sunghoon x fem!reader

warnings → MDNI, smoking !! (reader and sunghoon both smoke), drinking, cursing, mention(s?) of death, mention of hookups, reader is called and referred to (sometimes self referred to) as a: slut/whore; slutshaming, !! potential sh reference (pinching/hitting self; dk if that counts, but it's not mentioned after) !!, mentions of sex (obvi)

w.c. → 22.7k

a/n → long time no see lol. lmk if u would be interested in seeing some pics i took at the enha concert i went to :)) (i won't do vids because i was screaming like a baboon lmao) p.s. bear w me bc ik this is a long one, but i feel like i owe you all since i've been gone for practically a century, but pls give it a chance, i'm on my knees begging bc this took 3 days

disclaimer !! → i don’t ship any idols i portray as dating in this story irl nor do i have the intent to portray anyone in this story in a negative light, this is just for creative purposes, babes <3; this is all just fiction, take it lightly pls and thx

!!DO NOT COPY OR REPOST!!

Today has been a long day. You groan as you take a seat on a bench somewhere near the lecture hall you just left and you close your eyes as you lean back against it. You had originally thought your senior year of high school was torturous, but being a senior in college was far worse. Your eyebrows furrow a bit when you feel the weight of the bench shift a bit, meaning someone has taken a seat beside you. Your eyes open a bit and you turn your head to see Sunghoon next to you. A sigh escapes your lips and you turn your head away, closing your eyes again.

Sunghoon sits there for a moment, looking at you. Lately, you two haven’t hung out as much and although he admittedly forgot to text you for the past week and half, you were still his best friend. He could argue, though, that “the phone works both ways”, so you’re not exactly innocent either. He��s seen you around campus, hanging out with some members of the basketball team, mainly the captain: Sungchan. You didn’t seem bothered by the lack of contact between the two of you, either, so it didn’t bother him or make him feel guilty that you haven’t hung out in just a few days. No…not at all.

“Nice to see you, too.” he mumbles. You stay quiet, honestly close to falling asleep on the bench, especially with the warm breeze that is gently blowing. He narrows his eyes a bit and leans back against the bench. He does the same as you, closing his eyes as he relaxes, but he frowns to himself. “You and Sungchan seem to be close.” he says, not really even understanding why he brought it up in the first place.

This piques your interest. “What about him.” you say rather than ask, still keeping your eyes closed.

Sunghoon shrugs, still not really sure why he cares who you hang out with or how often or who they are or…anything like that. Maybe it upsets him to think about the fact that you might replace him with someone cooler as your best friend; maybe he was too lame for you. How juvenile, he thought to himself. But that’s what it felt like, to him, at least. “Nothing. I’ve just seen you guys hanging out a lot, that’s all.” Sunghoon replies.

“How would you know that; we haven’t really hung out or talked lately.” you reply, not meaning to sound snarky, but it most likely came across that way.

Sunghoon scoffs softly. “I have eyes; I can still see who you talk to.”

You open your eyes a bit and turn your head to look at him. “Stalker.” you tease.

Sunghoon opens his eyes, almost as if he can feel you looking at him and he rolls them, not amused. “Am not…I’m just trying to start a conversation or whatever.”

“About the people I talk to?”

Sunghoon shrugs. “About anything…” It stays quiet for a moment. “It’s just been a while since we’ve talked.”

“And whose fault is that?” You ask, rhetorically.

Sunghoon frowns. “Well, I’ve just been busy-”

You scoff, “Yeah. I know.” You reply dryly.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Nothing. Just that that’s what you always say whenever we don’t talk to each other for a while. Like, I get it, you’re dating Yujin, big whoop.”

You’ve considered the possibility that he has just been busy with schoolwork, but no matter how many times you would give him the benefit of the doubt, it always ended up being because he was hanging out with Yujin. You weren’t really mad, per say, just annoyed. Severely annoyed. But what could you do? Ever since they started dating freshman year, you’ve felt like you were on the backburner. Which, again, you can’t really be upset about that. Afterall, she’s his girlfriend, whether you liked it or not. There is nothing wrong with her, you two got along fine, even if you don’t really talk or are even friends. You don’t hate her, not for any valid reasons, anyway. Still, despite how many people you know, Sunghoon is your only real friend and always has been. But it’s times like these when it feels like he means more to you than you mean to him.

“She’s my girlfriend.” He says, matter-of-factly.

You roll your eyes at his statement. “I know that,” you retort with annoyance, “you only ever bring it up every chance you get.”

“You seriously can’t be annoyed that I spend time with my own girlfriend.” He responds with the same tone.

Sometimes, Sunghoon gets caught up in things. Like being with Yujin, for example. He’ll be with her and then it just slips his mind to respond to a text of yours or to ask if you want to do something, he can’t help it. He knows that he’s your best friend and he’s certain that you’re his, too. Sure, Yujin means a lot to him, but you mean more, whether he would admit that or not. He just wants to make everything balanced, for everything to work out. But a part of him feels like something has been off since he started dating Yujin. Sure, he’s had other girlfriends, but never one for longer than a few months. This relationship is important to him. What if Yujin is the one? He can’t screw it up and he’s afraid to, so he makes sure to spend as much time with her as he can. He thought you would understand, but apparently not.

You’ve met Sunghoon’s other girlfriends, none of which bothered you as much as Yujin. Maybe because this one seems more serious. Maybe because she seems more important to him. The thought makes your stomach curdle. This whole situation makes your stomach curdle. You shouldn’t care so much, but you do. You hate that. “Whatever.” you reply, honestly not having thought of anything better to respond with. What were you supposed to say to that? Of course you understood, but that doesn’t mean it doesn’t suck.

“Besides, like I said, you and Sungchan have been hanging out a lot recently. Don’t act like you’ve never blown me off to hang out with him.” Sunghoon says.

“Barely.”

“Not barely. A lot. ‘Oh, Sungchan invited me to his basketball game to watch’, ‘Oh, Sungchan invited me to a party,’ ‘Oh, Sungchan wants to hook up’, ‘Oh, Sungchan this and Sungchan that’.” Sunghoon mocks, annoyed.

You frown. “Why do you care? You’ve got a girlfriend, so just hang out with her instead.”

Sunghoon frowns as well. “That’s not the point. The point is that you ditch me just the same to hang out with a guy who you’re not even dating. You don’t talk to me sometimes when you’re with him or another guy, so why are you so upset that I do the same with Yujin, who I’m actually dating?”

“Stop rubbing in the fact that you’re dating someone. Good for you, who gives a shit? So what if I do the same? It’s only because you do it first!” you argue back. You grab your backpack and stand up as you put it on. You start walking away from him and he watches you as you leave.

“Great talk!” he calls out to you in a sarcastic manner.

He didn’t mean to make you upset or try to “rub his relationship” in your face, he would never try to intentionally make you upset. So, why did he care? He doesn’t, it’s as simple as that. Maybe you doing the same thing to him with Sungchan bothered him a little. Maybe you wanting to spend your time instead with someone else you’re not even dating bothered him a little. But it’s not like he actually cared or anything. He knows he can’t tell you what to do or who to see, so why does he care? He knows he blew you off, so why didn’t he just apologize? Why did he bring up Sungchan in the first place? Sunghoon sits on the bench for a moment, rethinking things. Why was he acting like you were ignoring him when it was kind of the other way around? He sighs and closes his eyes again. He’ll figure it out later.

You let out a long yawn as the dim glow from your computer screen shines on your face. It’s three in the morning, and sure, you have a class tomorrow, but you can’t sleep and figure you can just skip your lecture anyway. Even if your brightness was all the way down, it still hurt your eyes every so often, so you would close them to make them feel better while you listened to the show you were watching. You hear your phone ding and your eyes open, your hand reaching for your phone to see the text.

“are you awake?” Sunghoon texts.

He knows you are. You almost always are, which is why he knew you would see the message. Although, he did anticipate the idea of you ignoring him. You were good at things like that, things that required a stubborn attitude. He didn’t mind your stubbornness, though. He didn’t mind anything when it came to you. He waited a bit, sitting in the darkness with just the light of his phone screen, his thumb gently tapping it so it doesn’t automatically turn off as he waits for you to text back.

“yeah.” you text back.

It took you a few minutes and in all honesty, you almost didn’t respond. But you missed him, which even if he asks directly, you would deny. You wonder if he missed you too, but you shake that thought away.

“still pissy?”

This makes you laugh a little. Yes, you were, but you still found it a little funny.

“shut up.” you text back.

“wanna hang out?”

You sigh. Now he wants to? It takes you a while to reply with anything as you just stare at his message.

“can u bring the usual?” you reply.

He smiles at your text. “duh” he texts back.

You smile a bit, looking forward to actually hanging out with him. The whole argument was dumb anyway and you just wanted your best friend back. And after a while of waiting, you hear a knock on your dorm room door. You get up from your bed and unlock it, opening it as you step outside. He smiles softly when he sees you and you smile a bit back. You both quietly leave your dorm building before going outside and sitting on the curb. He sets the plastic bag he was carrying between you two and opens a bottle of beer before handing it to you. You take it and he opens his own, both of you taking a sip as a cool breeze blows softly.

“Sorry about earlier,” he says quietly, “and for not talking to you for a week. I just got caught up with Yujin, you know?”

You take another drink, not really interested in discussing this anymore. “It’s fine.”

“I also wasn’t trying to rub her and I into your face and make you feel bad or anything, it’s just…” he trails off. It’s silent for a moment as you both drink. “This week has been shitty.” he mumbles.

“Amen to that.” you reply. He chuckles softly and you both clink your bottles before smiling and taking another drink.

“How’s your love life going, anyway?” he asks, genuinely curious.

Sure, there were other things he wanted to talk about, could talk about, but this is what slipped out of his mouth first. He was actually curious, he truly wants to know. He just wants to see you happy.

You shrug, “The same; just hook ups.”

He looks at you for a moment. That’s it? You’ve been hooking up with people since the beginning of high school. Sure, you’ve dated some guys before, but they were all assholes; Sunghoon never liked them. He couldn’t stand them, to put it plainly. You deserve better, and he knows that. But he also knows you’re not into relationships. You like things to be simple and direct. But when it comes to how you feel, he knew you weren’t very expressive with that. Only when it comes to getting what you want. He kind of admires that about you.

“So…no one in particular? You just kind of…go after who you think is the hottest?”

You grin, “Something like that.” you take a sip, “So…how are things going with Yujin?”

You honestly hate that you asked. Why would you? Why would you want to hear about that? Surely, things must be going wonderfully if he’s so wrapped up in all that is her. But you’re still friends. It’s normal to ask these kinds of questions, right? Maybe he won’t really say much anyway and you’ll be a good friend for even asking. That’s what you’re hoping for, at least.

"Well... things have been kind of weird. She's been acting kinda distant recently; I don't know how else to explain it. She just seems really bored all the time. Like, the sex is good but it just seems like she's not into me anymore or something." he replies.

You give him a weird look as he brings up the topic of sex with Yujin. Gross. Just...Gross.

“Describing sex with your ‘girlfriend’ as good is never a good thing.” you say as you laugh a bit, taking a sip.

Sunghoon scoffs a bit. Why did it seem like you were happy to hear that? It irritated him a bit, but he brushed it off. “Well, I didn’t mean it like that. It’s more like…it’s become something that’s routine.”

“Yeah, that’s probably not a good sign.”

Sunghoon sighs. "I know... it's just so weird though. I mean, we've been together for so long, and she's never been the type to get bored like this. It just sucks. I'm worried if something happened between us that's making her not want to be with me anymore."

You look at him for a moment as he drinks. You hate seeing him upset and you know that Yujin means a lot to him, especially since this is his first big relationship. You frown a bit as you drink. “Have you asked her?” you take another sip, “Aren’t people in relationships supposed to communicate and shit?”

"Yeah, I asked her and she said everything was fine, but like... I don't know. I just have a feeling that she's not telling me something, and I've tried asking her multiple times, but every time, she always says everything's fine." he takes another drink. “That’s pretty much what I’ve been spending last week doing, just…trying to fix what may not even be broken.” he mumbles.

You feel bad now for getting upset at him for blowing you off. It makes sense and you just got defensive again, not really knowing what he was doing. You sit there for a moment, not really sure what to say. Sunghoon didn’t mind the silence, though. He was trying to focus on Yujin and figure out why things feel this way when maybe, they aren’t even that way at all. Maybe it’s him. He isn’t sure, but he is sure that he already feels a million times better being with you, even if it is just sitting next to each other on a curb in silence.

“Do you cum?” you ask.

Sunghoon chokes on his beer a little, hitting his chest a bit as he coughs. He looks at you, not expecting your question at all, and as for you, well, you weren’t really expecting to ask it. It kind of just…came out. Your initial thought process was to ask more about his feelings on things in the relationship, seeming more like a routine, but it kind of led to you wondering if he even cums. In your defense, you thought that if he doesn’t, then maybe the relationship is going downhill. You look at him, as if what you asked was totally normal, taking another sip of your beer. He looks back at you, seeming to have processed what you asked.

“...yeah, pretty much every time.”

“Does she?”

Again, not something you really want to know, but you do want to help him.

“...sometimes, but most of the time she doesn’t.”

You suck air through your teeth, “Uh-oh.”

“It’s not a big deal, you know, so what if sometimes we don’t? It’s not about that, it’s just about…connecting or whatever.” he mumbles as he takes a sip.

“So, then what? Do you guys just like…do it yourself?”

“Yeah, so?”

You laugh. You can’t help it, it’s just too funny. Not his obvious pain with his relationship kind of going south, but the fact that he finds this to be normal. You at least found that funny.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, pissed off, but also slightly embarrassed.

“Dude, I'm not a relationship expert, but like...shouldn't people who have sex, I don't know, finish every time? I mean, I have never really had that happen often with any of the guys I hook up with, but hey, what do I know.”

"Well... I guess, but it's not a big deal to me. As long as she enjoys it, that's what's important. And, it's not like it happens all the time. Sometimes she does finish, but it's just... well, not as often as I would hope..." he takes another sip.

You roll your eyes to yourself. Kind of out of instinct. If you’re going to be frank, you don’t give a damn about her.

You shrug, “I don’t know,” you take another sip, “you say you don’t cum sometimes, how come?”

“I don’t know…it just happens?”

You shake your head, “Nah, there’s a reason.”

“But the reason is dumb and I don’t want to talk about this anymore.” he takes another sip.

“Do you think she’s hot?”

What a stupid question. You wish you didn’t ask it. Why would you want to hear him talk about yet again how hot he thinks she is. It makes your blood boil and you would rather bash yourself over the head with your beer bottle than hear him talk about how perfect she is. But, there is a small, small part of you hoping for a certain answer. Only a small part.

“Of course I do.” he replies, simply.

“So, then, what’s the problem?”

“Sometimes I have a hard time finishing, happy? Jesus…” he mumbles as he drinks some more.

You roll your eyes. You’ve known each other your whole lives, you know when he’s lying.

“Mmm,” you take another sip, “no, you see, sometimes when I hook up with guys, I suddenly don't feel attracted to them, so then sometimes I don't finish. So do you just like sometimes not like her or something?”

He shakes his head, "No, I'm always attracted to her. But... sometimes I have a hard time finishing, and I don't know why that is."

“What do you think about?” you ask, kind of quietly.

A part of you didn’t want to ask that, besides, this conversation was becoming weird. But that small, small part of you was so desperately hoping for a certain answer. Fucked up? Yeah, most definitely, but that didn’t seem to stop you.

“About what?” he asks, actually clueless.

“When you’re having sex, what do you think about?” you ask again, taking a sip of your beer.

“...about her, that’s what you’re supposed to do, so,” he trails off, “Sometimes I…think about other things...” he answers, blushing a bit.

“Like what?”

“Just…random stuff. Why do you want to know anyway?” he asks, getting slightly defensive.

“Maybe that's what's distracting you. I don't know, spice things up with her or something. Or have an actual conversation with her about how you feel or whatever.” you mutter as you finish your beer.

He takes another sip of his beer. “Why are you acting like some sort of relationship counselor? You’ve never even really been in a relationship yourself.”

Maybe he wanted to piss you off with what he said, but only so you could back off. “Spice things up”? Yujin and him are fine, he’s deciding that right here, right now. He doesn’t want your help with this or to even discuss it anymore with you. It feels weird. Besides, he doesn’t want you to think that he’s…not good at sex. Not for any other reasons, just that…he doesn’t want you to think that about him.

You set your bottle down and look at him. “Because you’re my friend? I don’t know. Why do you care?” You hold your hand out, wanting him to hand the cigarettes he brought while your other hand digs into your sweatpants pocket for your lighter.

He reaches into the bag and hands them to you, knowing full well you could have grabbed them yourself, yet he still obliged. “So, in all of your hooking up, have you ever had feelings for anyone you hooked up with? And not those bullshit feelings for your douchebag exes, like actual feelings. Or have they all just been hookups?” he asks, hoping to change the subject.

You open the pack, “Hookups.”

“Every single one?”

“Mhm.” you answer, taking one out and putting it into your mouth, lighting it as you take a drag.

“So you’ve never fallen in love with anyone you’ve hooked up with?”

You laugh, “Fallen in love? How stupid.” you say as you take another drag.

“Okay, love might be a strong word, but like, have you never developed feelings for any of the people you’ve hooked up with?” he asks, finishing his beer.

“Nah.”

"Right, right. So, you're just all about hookups then, and that's cool, no shame or anything; I get it. But you've never felt even just a little bit of loneliness from it?" he asks as he sets his bottle down. You ignore his question, taking another drag. He knows by your reaction that he’s said something that bothers you. Whenever anything is mentioned that may reveal how you truly feel, you just block it off and move on. He sighs, not too sure why he bothered asking since you always ignore these types of topics. Sometimes, he wished you wouldn’t. He wished you would be more open with him. It feels like he can talk to you about anything and everything, even if sometimes he doesn’t want to, but he does anyway because you…well, you’re you. "I mean, it's gotta get kinda boring... always hooking up, never really connecting with anyone. Unless you don't care about that kind of thing."

“Love is stupid.” you reply flatly.

What a groundbreaking opinion. Truly, nobody has ever felt or thought the same thing. Great stuff. Sunghoon sighs at your answer, not really getting why you won’t just tell him. He wants you to. He can’t really explain why. It doesn’t have to do with wanting to get some satisfaction out of helping you or changing you, but rather, sometimes he feels like he knows nothing about you. You’re important to him, more than you could possibly understand, but still, sometimes, you seem so distant; like a stranger. He just wants to know that you trust him.

“So, just because love hasn’t exactly worked out in your life, you think love is stupid? I don’t really think that’s fair…just because your ex boyfriends were assholes doesn’t mean that true love doesn’t exist.”

For some reason, him talking about true love pisses you off. It pisses you off greatly. You can feel your skin crawl and anger boiling up inside you, so you take a drag from your cigarette, blowing out the smoke, wishing it was something else you were getting rid of.

“It’s not about them.” you take another drag, “Do you love Yujin?”

You think you know the answer already. No, you know the answer indefinitely. There is only one answer. Why would he have spent the past three–almost four years–dating her if he didn’t? You think about all the times he talked about her when they first started dating. You try not to, but your mind recalls all the details, how he said them, what he said, how he looked while he was talking. It made you sick.

His heart sinks a little when you ask the question. He stares at you for a moment, not responding to your question right away. He takes a long deep breath before he answers, “Yes.” You sit silent. You heard his answer, but you don’t want to acknowledge it. You take another drag from your cigarette, a longer one this time, blowing out the smoke slowly as you tap some of the tobacco from the butt of it off. “Do you…not believe me?” he asks, watching you. He can tell something is on your mind, you’re just having trouble saying it. He’s not asking to be snarky or anything, he asks in more of a gentle tone, just wanting you to open up or at least just say something remotely close to how you feel.

“No, I do.” you answer quietly. For some reason, it hurts to say that. It’s true, though; you do believe him…unfortunately.

Silence consumes the both of you, just sitting on the curb as time passes. Crickets chirp softly in the distance and the subtle burn of the tobacco from your cigarette fills it a bit, but not enough. He stares at you, both annoyed and concerned.

“Then what is it? Are you trying to say there’s something wrong with my relationship?” he asks, suddenly defensive. Even he, himself, doesn’t know why he’s suddenly so defensive about it, especially since he brought up the issue earlier, but he doesn’t like thinking that you think there is something wrong.

“Jesus, it’s not like that.” you respond, knowing full and well it is like that.

“Then spit it out; what are you trying to say?”

“Shut up.”

You take another drag and he rolls his eyes, annoyed. “You know, you’re so annoying sometimes.”

“So are you.”

“Yeah, I know, but you’re worse.”

You take another drag, genuinely wanting him to shut up, or for things to be normal. Or better yet, for things not to be complicated. “Go cry about it to your girlfriend.”

“Screw you.”

“Ditto.”

“Whatever.” he says, pissed off.

“Yeah, whatever.” you mumble as you take another drag.

He continues to look at you, pissed off at how you don’t seem to care about anything. He used to like that a lot about you, how you never cared about what people thought and are able to brush anything off. Maybe “used to” is a bit strong, he still likes that about you, but for right now, it’s incredibly infuriating.

“You know, I’ve noticed that you always avoid giving direct answers to questions. Maybe that’s why you’re so scared of commitment; Not willing to really speak your mind out of fear of hurting someone’s feelings or your own.” he says, hoping this would piss you off enough to just say how you feel.

You roll your eyes, “Shut up.” you say as you continue smoking your cigarette.

“No, I won't shut up. In fact, I'm gonna keep talking because this is one of the rare occasions where we’re actually having a serious conversation and not just talking about petty stuff.”

You roll your eyes again. “I don’t want to.” you reply, simply.

“Too bad. because I am really curious about it. So, I’m just gonna keep asking questions. Like, have you ever experienced real heartbreak before? Because you seem like the type that just throws people away and moves on with no remorse.” You become quiet. Sure, you weren’t answering before, well, barely, anyway. But this time, you feel like you’re shrinking. That type of quiet. The type of quiet you become when you feel like you got caught and you don’t want to admit to what you did. You just smoke your cigarette. “And you don’t just avoid answering questions about your romantic life, either. You do the same thing when it comes to family, friends, and anyone else. You just push people away and never actually let anyone get to know the real you.”

“You know the real me.” you say, looking at him. In all honesty, you were insulted. He was seriously telling you that he “doesn’t know the real you” after you guys have been friends since you were two years old? What does that say about your friendship?

“No, I really don’t. All I know about you is the surface layer stuff that you’re willing to share, but I don't actually know you. No one does. Because you never let anyone get close enough.” he says as he looks you directly in the eyes, meaning every word he says. Well, maybe not every word, but it is how he feels. He doesn’t want you to get frustrated, but if that’s what it takes for you to finally say how you feel, then so be it. You do feel yourself getting frustrated and you look away, taking another drag. “And don’t deny it, ‘cause you know it’s true. You just push people away and never let yourself be vulnerable, ‘cause if you did, then they could use that vulnerability against you. And god forbid anybody ever find out about your deepest insecurities-”

“Shut the fuck up.” you say, feeling anger seethe out of you. He sits there, somewhat stunned by your response. Not exactly that you became angry, but more so that he actually got a reaction out of you. He watches you as you put your cigarette out and stand up. “I’m going back to my room.” you mutter.

He stands up. “Seriously?” he says as he sees you start to walk away. He scoffs. “You’re just going to leave? Like that? Whatever.” he mumbles as he grabs the pack of cigarettes you put back into the bag (the pack he specifically bought for you and always buys whenever you guys hang out like this). He opens it and grabs one, lighting it as he sees you turn around. You walk back over to him and snatch the pack of cigarettes from his hand. “The hell?” he asks, annoyed, as he tries to grab it back.

You hold it out of his reach. “You don’t even like red Marlboros.” you say, almost tempted to take the one out of his mouth, too just to spite him.

“Give it back.” he says sternly as he takes a small drag from the one in his mouth, holding it between his fingers as he glares at you.

“No.”

“It’s my pack of cigarettes.”

“That you bought for me.”

“And I want it back.”

“Well, tough shit, I’m not giving it back.”

“Give it.” he says as he holds out his hand. You ignore him and turn around, starting to walk away. He takes another drag, grimacing because you’re right, he doesn’t like this brand, but he’s only doing this to spite you. He gets even more pissed off just seeing you walk away. “Why are you always such a pain in the ass?”

“Could ask you the same thing.” you yell back.

He quickly puts out the cigarette and puts the bottles into the bag before catching up to you. “I'm not the one who’s always being super mean and acting all mysterious about everything. Like, what’s with all the attitude and snarky comments? You’ve been extra shitty lately.”

“Fuck you.”

He scoffs, “Yeah, that’s what I thought. You know, you’re being shitty, you just don’t wanna admit it.”

You stop walking and turn to look at him, throwing the pack at him. “Then go away.”

He grits his teeth and grabs the pack from the ground. He looks at you, “Whatever. I'm leaving. But just know, one of these days, you’re going to actually push someone away for good.”

“Hopefully it’s you.” you say as you cross your arms.

“Yeah, me too. Because I am so fed up with your bullshit.”

“Great. Go away.”

He rolls his eyes and walks past you, his arm bumping into yours purposefully as he heads back to his dorm.

As Sunghoon makes his way to his lecture, he sees Yujin in the distance talking to some of her friends. He thinks about your conversation last night. He had hopes of confiding in you a bit more about how he felt, but of course that’s not the way things panned out. He had no time to focus on that, even if he was feeling even worse now that he possibly lost his best friend for good. Shit…did he really lose you for good? He feels his blood run cold, but he’s trying to forget it and focus on her. She’s his girlfriend, he has to remember that. He walks up to her, smiling a bit. She looks at him.

“Oh…hey.” she says softly.

“Hey…can we talk for a minute?” She nods her head and stands still. Sunghoon glances at her friends and then looks back at her. “...in private?” Yujin glances at her friends before following Sunghoon over into the library, taking a seat at a table near one of the back bookshelves, a little bit of space between the two of them. “Is there a reason you’ve been acting like this lately? Do you not…want to be with me anymore?” Sunghoon asks, just getting straight to the point.

Yujin is quiet for a moment. “Everything is fine.” she says.

He crosses his arms, feeling himself getting frustrated. Why can’t people just be direct like you? Yeah, you’re not really direct with your feelings, but you are when it comes to anything else. “Are you sure? Because you've been really distant. We haven't been talking as often, you barely want to spend time with me... and it feels like you're avoiding being intimate with me, too. I had to almost beg you to spend time with me last week. Is there really nothing? Are you sure everything is fine?” Yujin listens and stays quiet. Sunghoon sighs. "You know, couples are supposed to communicate and shit, right? If something is bothering you, just come out and say it." Sure, he took a page from your book with what you said last night and perhaps some of what you said rang true after all, but he’s not really looking to give you a “you were right” moment at this time.

“You being friends with her bothers me.” Yujin says as she crosses her arms.

Sunghoon freezes for a moment, taken aback by her response. “...are you being serious?” he asks, not totally sure if she’s just messing with him.

“You hang out with her more than me to the point that I had to ask you to stop texting her whenever we would hang out and you always say you’re “just best friends”, but I don’t believe you. Do you have feelings for her?”

“Do YOU think I have feelings for her?” Sunghoon asks, becoming defensive while also avoiding answering her question directly.

“Yes.” she answers, simply.

“What, do you think I’ll dump you for her or something?”

"She's a slut. You know it, I know it, everybody knows it. I don't care if you guys are close, I'm worried she is going to make a move on you and then you break up with me just for her to use you once and then ruin you; She's bad news." Yujin says.

He feels his jaw drop a bit at what she says. Did she seriously just say that? And so boldly? He feels himself become upset about the way she talks about you. He wants to defend you, he always has, but he frowns. What if this leads to Yujin breaking up with him? You did say last night that you two were done with each other, so why does it matter? He doesn’t agree with Yujin, but he wants to save this relationship…

“You really think I'm that naive? That I'd fall for a girl like her? Just because we’re close friends doesn’t mean I automatically get feelings for her and forget about you. You know I'm smart enough to not get mixed up with someone like her.” he says, feeling like his heart is breaking as he says it. He wants Yujin to feel reassured, but after saying this…it doesn’t feel worth it.

“So you agree.” Yujin says.

Sunghoon sits there, feeling like he’s about to throw up. Why is this so hard? Why can’t he just say ‘yes’ and move on? Why can’t he be happy with Yujin? He just nods his head. “I wouldn’t fall for someone like her.” he says extremely quietly, almost as if he never wanted those words to leave his mouth. But they did and it was too late.

Yujin smiles, satisfied by his answer. She leans in and kisses his lips quickly, “I believe you.” she says softly.

Sunghoon hesitates, not glad that she believes him. Not glad that she said those things about you. Not glad that he said those things about you. He’s just not happy. He gives her a small smile and kisses her cheek quickly. “I’m glad.”

You are sitting on a bench, scrolling through your phone as you wait for your next lecture to start soon. Sunghoon sees you as he exits his lecture hall and his gaze lingers on you for a moment. He sighs to himself a bit, feeling like he was being pulled in two different directions. The more he thinks about it, he feels as though Yujin was giving him an ultimatum to choose you or her. If she said it outright, there isn’t a cell in his body that would hesitate to choose you. He thinks back to his conversation with Yujin in the library and he feels sick; he knows he did something wrong.

He walks over to you and takes a seat next to you, just wanting to make up and move on. To his surprise, however, you get up immediately and take your bag before walking away. He sits there, confused, but figures you’re still upset about the argument last night. He gets up and he follows you before catching up and gently grabbing your arm, but you end up taking it away and start walking again. He bites the inside of his cheek before stepping in front of you, “Why are you walking away from me?”

“Get away from me.”

“No.” he said as quickly as the words left your mouth.

You look at him, feeling your eyes sting, hot tears wanting to form, but you blink them away. “You should probably go find your girlfriend, you wouldn’t want to be seen hanging out with a slut like me, right?” you ask rhetorically.

“Hey-,” he cuts you off, frowning instantly when you call yourself that. “Stop it…you know I don’t see you that way.”

“That’s a fucking lie; I heard you talking to Yujin. Or are you surprised about that too since you were in the library and someone like me couldn’t possibly be in a place like that.” you say as you cross your arms, swallowing as if that will help mask your clear frustration.

“...what?” he asks quietly, freezing as he realizes what you’re saying.

“I heard you. I heard you agree with her when she called me a slut. I heard you say you "would never be stupid to fall for someone like me". Well, fuck you. Go be with your perfect girlfriend, asshole.” you say before you push past him, swallowing again, but this time to stop yourself from crying.

“Wait-” he tries to grab your arm again, but you pull it away and keep walking. He feels his heart sink as he watches you walk away. The world felt as if it just collapsed. He feels like he’s sinking and as he watches you become further from him, he feels like he’s lost everything. He’s holding his breath, not necessarily realizing he is, almost as if he exhales, he’s not sure he has the strength to take another breath knowing he’s hurt you; he doesn’t deserve to.

Everything moves in slow motion, all voices muffled, as Sunghoon feels himself being dragged inside of a party by Yujin. He can hear and see her laughing and talking with her friends as they walk inside the loud and crowded atmosphere, but he feels as if he’s hollow. He stands there like a zombie as Yujin talks and greets some of her friends. He’s not sure how it happened, especially since it was almost midnight and he honestly just wanted to go to sleep, but he somehow ended up here. His eyes felt heavy as they looked around the room, but he subconsciously stood up straighter when his eyes landed on you. It was like he had been resuscitated, his heart beating rapidly as he sees you and then he sees him.

Sunghoon rolls his eyes, noticing how Sungchan was standing closely to you, how his eyes scanned every inch of your body with some stupid, smug smirk on his face. Sunghoon rolled his eyes again and grimaced at the sight. He sees how you whisper something into his ear, Sungchan grinning as he places his hand on your hip. Suddenly, Sunghoon’s heart stopped again as his gaze fixates on his hand. His hand grips Yujin’s tightly as he clenches his jaw and his other hand curls into a fist, his fingernails digging into the palm of his hand. His breathing becomes heavy as he sees you smile, smile in a way he’s never had you smile at him before as your hand caresses Sungchan’s cheek while you clearly flirt back with him. Sunghoon was livid. He feels like an extra in his own life as he watches you fall for someone like that.

“Baby…?” Yujin asks, loosening her hand and taking it away from him since he was practically cutting off her circulation.

“I’m fine.” he mumbles, hints of anger and annoyance clear in his tone. He doesn’t look at her as he answers and she catches on.

She looks to where his gaze is and then she looks back at him, upset. “Why are you looking at her?” she asks as she crosses her arms. “You told me you don’t have feelings for her. I’m your girlfriend, not her.”

“Stop, Yujin, it’s not like that…” he mumbles, annoyed as he keeps looking at you and Sungchan. He watches as Sungchan puts his arm around your waist and he feels like the air has just been knocked out of him. His tongue pokes the inside of his cheek as he glares at the two of you, wanting nothing more than to shove him off of you.

Yujin scoffs, “I don’t even see how you could have feelings for a slut like her.” she mumbles, taking a sip of a drink her friend brought for her. Sunghoon keeps his attention on you. How Sungchan keeps you close, whispers in your ear to make you giggle and you indulge in it, how he touches you, and how he looks at you as if he’s some sick animal that wants to devour you. “Did you even hear me?” Yujin asks, pissed off.

“Yeah, I heard you.” Sunghoon mumbles as he continues watching the two of you.

Yujin glares at him and then grabs his hand, dragging him away from her friends. Sunghoon just goes along with it and as Yujin starts dragging him upstairs, Sungchan leas in and kisses you. Sunghoon’s eyes widen as he continues going upstairs with Yujin, her dragging him into an empty bedroom and closes the door behind them. Sunghoon feels like all thoughts had escaped him when he saw that and he stands there with only one thing on his mind: you.

“Let’s have sex.” Yujin says as she looks at him.

Sunghoon snaps out of it and looks at her, feeling like this is his first time seeing her tonight. He looks at her in confusion, not wanting to since he only has you on his mind, but he doesn’t want to upset her any further, so he nods his head. Yujin pulls him towards her and kisses him. He hesitates, feeling himself grimace, but he tries to ignore it and kiss her back. He doesn’t want to be up here with her, he wants to be down there with you. As they continue to kiss, Yujin begins to undress herself and Sunghoon feels himself tense up. He tries to forget about you and focus on her, thinking maybe helping her undress would help, but it doesn’t. Not even a little bit.

Yujin moves them over to the bed as she keeps kissing him and he sits there, partially kissing her back and also sitting stiff as a board. He knows this is supposed to be hot for him, having a practically naked girl on him, but he only finds himself wishing it was you. Yujin kisses down his neck as she takes off his shirt and he feels like he’s zoning out, not moving a muscle. Yujin moves her hands along his chest and down his body and then stops kissing him as she looks at him.

“You’re not even hard.” she says as she frowns. Sunghoon just stares at her, not necessarily surprised, but he still feels bad. "What the hell do you even like about her? She's a fucking whore who opens her legs for any and every guy. She has nothing else to offer besides her fucking pussy, which probably is already stretched beyond repair." Yujin says, angry. "She's nothing! She's not even special and yet she always gets any guy she wants. Well, why does she get you too?" Yujin tears up. "I'M your girlfriend, not her! Do you even love me?" Yujin asks, frustrated.

Sunghoon knows her anger is justified and he feels awful for feeling like he wants her to be you instead. As he watches and hears her say all of these things, he feels bad for treating her like this, but he also becomes angry at listening to what she’s saying about you. He feels bad for saying it feels like he doesn’t know you, because he does, and he knows you’re nothing like who she says you are.

“Answer me!” Yujin yells.

“I do love you.” Sunghoon says quickly.

“...do you love her?”

He stays quiet. Does he love you? He doesn’t know how to answer that. He knows he cares about you more than anyone else, he knows that even when you two fight, he would never want anyone else but you to be by his side, he knows that you’re the only one who gets him, he knows he likes making you smile and laugh and sometimes when you look at him, he feels like he can just look back at you forever. But is that love? Then, what is it he feels for Yujin? Does he love you and not her? How come he never realized it before? Did he always feel this way?

"Why the hell did you even ask me out? Why did you even ask me to be your girlfriend if all this time, you've wanted her? If all this time you've been in love with her?" Yujin asks, furious.

What is he supposed to say? Has he always been in love with you? He thinks for a moment. He thinks about why he asked her out in the first place, about a week after you hooked up with some guy after you two just started college. Was that the reason? Was it because he just wanted something and he knows deep down, you don’t want the same, so he found it somewhere else? You…everything has always been about you, his whole world has always revolved around you.

Yujin gets up and gets dressed. "If you want to be with her so badly, fine. But just know, she's still a whore. She'll just use you and then toss you aside." Yujin says as she finishes getting dressed. "But by all means, go sleep with that slut. We're done." Yujin says as she leaves the room.

Sunghoon sits on the bed in silence. Just great. Now, he doesn’t have a girlfriend and worst of all, he still can’t have you. He sits there for a moment longer before getting up and putting back on his shirt. Screw this party, he shouldn’t have come anyway. He walks out of the bedroom and goes downstairs, feeling like his mind is in a different place as he walks outside. He stops and notices you sitting on the curb, smoking a cigarette. He feels relieved, not seeing you in Sungchan’s arms, and for a split second, he wishes he could just walk over and take you into his, but he pushes that thought away and just decides to take a seat beside you on the curb instead. You scoot away a bit from him, silence looming over the two of you and he feels even worse.

“You shouldn’t be sitting here, you know. Your girlfriend might get pissy.” you mumble as you exhale some smoke.

“I’m not with Yujin anymore.”

You pause for a moment, “...I saw you two go upstairs.”

“She just…got upset that I couldn’t get hard. I just had so many thoughts running through my mind…” he trails off, not wanting to ramble on about it.

“Whatever.” you say as you take another drag.

“I wish I never asked her out.” he says before taking a deep breath, feeling like he said something he didn’t even realize he was keeping a secret, not even from himself.

“Why are you telling me this? In case you forgot, I am not your friend anymore. Not after what you and her said about me this morning.” You take another drag, “It's one thing for her to call me a slut, I don't care about her, but you? You agreed with her. You made fun of me. You're supposed to be my best friend and you say I'm a slut and then that you aren't "stupid" enough to date "someone like me"? Fuck you, honestly. I was so pissed when I heard that. I know we fought the other night, but I never thought you would say that shit about me.” You take another drag. “So stop talking to me about your problems like we're still friends. You want nothing to do with "someone like me"? Well, then, you got it.”

Sunghoon stays silent, feeling as if everything around him is crumbling. You’re sitting maybe a foot away from him, but he feels like you’re on the other side of the planet. “I’m sorry.” he says softly, feeling ashamed to have talked about you like that.

You shake your head and continue smoking. “Whatever.”

“I miss you.” he says suddenly. “And, I shouldn’t have said any of that this morning. I was trying to reassure Yujin at your expense and…that was a big fuck up by me. None of what I said was worth any pain I’ve caused you.”

“Well, I don’t miss you. I don’t even care.”

Sunghoon stays quiet for a moment. “I have to fix this. Not because I feel like it will make me feel better to know I said sorry, because that doesn’t fix anything; that doesn’t make you feel better. I want to fix this because, even if you don’t believe me, I value our friendship more than anything in the world.”

You scoff and don’t reply, blinking away your tears as you continue smoking. “I don’t need you. Think what you want about me, I don’t give a fuck.”

“Hey…” he says tentatively as he notices you blinking away tears. He feels like he got punched in the gut and hates himself for knowing he’s the one that caused you to feel this way. “I know I hurt you…a lot.” he admits. He doesn’t know if you would want to listen to anything else he has to say, but he wants nothing more than for everything to go back to normal. To have you back. To just have you look at him. Anything.

You scoff, “You? As if.” you say as you put out your cigarette. “Don’t flatter yourself. Like I care about your opinion.” you say as you stand up. “I don’t need your pity and I don’t need your friendship. I don’t need you.” you say as you walk away and back into the party.

He doesn’t hesitate to follow you, not wanting to let you go. He can’t. He can’t bear the thought of you actually not being a part of his life, not for one goddamn second. He tries to catch up to you, but he stops in his tracks when he sees you go back over to Sungchan. It feels as though time has stopped and he was cursed with having to watch you be with him for the rest of his life. You whisper something to Sungchan, prompting him to grin and put his hands on your waist. Sunghoon feels like he’s about to collapse as he watches Sungchan whisper something back to you before taking your hand and leading you upstairs. He wants to do something, take you away from him, tell you that you mean so much more and are so much more than whatever Sungchan thinks about you. How you mean everything to him and watching you walk upstairs with some other guy feels as though you are taking away every piece of Sunghoon, breaking him apart. But he doesn’t and an hour passes before you walk back downstairs with Sungchan, his arm around your waist.

Sungchan whispers something in your ear before letting you go and walking over to his friends, all of them laughing and teasing him. You just walk back out of the party, feeling sick to your stomach; as if you just made the biggest mistake of your life; shame. As you walk down the sidewalk, the night suddenly feels much colder than before. You take out your cigarettes and start smoking another one. Sunghoon follows and catches up, “Can I have one?” he asks, not knowing what else to say, but wanting to say something. You stay quiet, but eventually extend the one you were smoking to him. You stop walking as he takes it, taking a drag as he stands beside you.

You hold out your hand, wanting it back and after he takes another inhale from it, he exchanges it back. You take another drag, staying quiet, as you extend it back to him. He takes it as you two share the cigarette and he hands it back to you, almost wanting to just hold your hand instead. You take a long drag, holding the smoke for a while before slowly exhaling. “...you were right.” you say quietly as you hold the cigarette out for him. “It is lonely.”

He takes the cigarette, feeling hopeful that this is the beginning of an honest conversation, and relieved that you’re opening up. He hands it back to you, “Are you lonely? Do you miss having a relationship?” he asks, softly, wanting to make sure he’s being cautious so he doesn’t hurt you again.

“Not the ones I used to be in, no. Those guys were…well, you know.”

“Yeah…” he mumbles. You sigh and take a seat on the curb. He follows suit, seeing if you’ll say something else, but deciding to break the silence. “So…what kind of guy do you want?” he asks, deep down hoping for a certain answer.

You don’t answer him and instead, ignore his question. In all honesty, you don’t know. Well, you do, but you’re too scared to admit it. “You were also right about me being a slut.”

“I-I didn’t mean it-”

“You know it, everybody else knows it…and I always knew it.” You take your cigarette back and take a drag. “Hearing you say it sucked, though, but I know it’s the truth.”

“I shouldn’t have said it. I was so caught up in trying to make Yujin feel better and fix things between us when it wasn’t worth it. Not when it came at your expense.”

“I know.”

“I should’ve still stuck up for you. It didn’t matter if she was my girlfriend, you don’t deserve to be talked about like that.”

You shrug and hand him the cigarette, lighting a new one for yourself to smoke. “I don’t care anymore. Hooking up with Sungchan just now made me realize it. Seeing and hearing his friends tease him for it…” you take a long drag, “I knew that’s what I am.”

He does the same and looks at you. “Did you want to hook up with him?”

“No.”

“Then, why did you do it?” You ignore his question and keep smoking. “Hey…” he says softly. He knows you’re avoiding his question, but he wants to hear what you have to say.

“What happened with you and Yujin tonight?” you ask, wanting to change the subject.

“Just…an argument.”

“About…?”

“That’s not important.”

“You wanted to tell me all about it earlier. You said something about you not getting hard and regretting asking her out. What the hell happened? I thought you loved her or whatever.” you mumble as you inhale more smoke, a part of you hoping it chokes you.

“I do love her. But I guess…it meant something different to her. She wanted things from me I couldn’t do.”

“Like what.”

“Like…her not wanting us to be friends anymore.”

You scoff before continuing to smoke. “You should’ve chosen her.”

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow as he takes a drag. “You think I shouldn't have chosen my friend who's been with me through thick and thin over someone who was basically controlling who I talked to?”

“She was just controlling that you don't talk to me. Can't blame her, she probably thought I would try to sleep with you or something. Besides, since when did us being friends for so long suddenly matter? It didn't when you agreed with her about me being a slut.”

“It matters to me.” He says, feeling his heart sink a little at your words. It seemed like you didn’t think your friendship meant anything. He takes another drag and sighs quietly before continuing. “You’re my best friend. I care about you more than anyone else.” You stay silent as you continue to smoke. “Do you really think I don’t care about you?” he asks, softly. You just keep smoking, not really sure how to answer. He sighs to himself as he does the same and his mind wanders to thinking about you and Sungchan again. He rolls his eyes to himself as he tries to push those thoughts out of his head.

“You asked me if I ever felt heartbreak when we fought that night, talking about if that’s why I have commitment issues or whatever.” you say as you take another drag. “Yeah…I have.”

“Was the heartbreak from…” he let’s the question linger in the air for a moment, “a relationship?” You shake your head. “So…what was it from then? Who broke your heart?”

You stay silent for a moment, just smoking “...i didn't realize I fell in love with him until he got a girlfriend, well, his first serious girlfriend. At first, I didn't really care, but then…” you go quiet for a moment as you keep looking ahead, not at him. “The way he talked about her, would smile a certain way when he was with her, like he's never smiled at me before...laughing at jokes they shared...seeing him kiss her, hold her hand…” you take another drag, “holding her hand..” you repeat, like you’re lost in thought. “It's something so stupid and simple, but I've never had a guy hold my hand romantically...but he held hers and I remember feeling like I couldn't breathe. I couldn't do a damn thing but suddenly wish I was his girlfriend instead. And then I realized. I loved him.” you take another drag, “I loved him and he was in love with someone else.”

He stayed quiet the whole time you talked. He took in every single word. He took in how you said every single word, how you looked as you spoke. He felt his heart break for you. The way you talked about it was nothing like he’s ever heard you talk about; so…innocent. “Did you ever try to tell him how you felt?”

You stay quiet for a moment as you swallow. “I almost did. One time. I just felt so tired from pretending and I didn't want to just hookup with anyone anymore. I wanted to be his more than anything in the world. I almost told him and then…” you take another drag from your cigarette. “He started telling me about how he finally had sex with his girlfriend. How hot she is. How he had never seen anyone so beautiful. How he couldn't believe he was so lucky to be dating her. Fuck-” you pinch your thigh to stop yourself from crying as you take another drag. “I felt so...gross. I had never had a guy say that about me, never had a guy be proud to be with me, but the way he talked about her and everything he was saying...I knew he would laugh in my face if I, just some slut, was in love with him; he would feel grossed out or whatever. No matter how close I thought we were, I knew right then and there I would never be like her. Never like the girl he wanted.” you take another drag, “So I didn't say anything.”

Sunghoon stayed quiet again, feeling awful. He hated that you thought about yourself that way. He hated that other people had made you feel that…him included. He hated this guy, especially, for making you feel this way. What a piece of shit. You deserve nothing but the best and this guy pulls this bullshit with you? He was about ready to punch him in the face. “And you’re still friends with him? After he did all of this to you?”

“He’s all I’ve ever had.”

“He’s not all you have, though. What about me?” he asks, intending to make something positive out of this all. He just wants you to know how precious you are to him because he cares about you so much.

This, doesn’t help whatsoever, and you feel like you’re about to burst into tears. You can’t tell if he’s the idiot or if you are; maybe the latter. But when he says that, you just feel like sobbing, curling up into a ball, and dying right then and there. You pinch your thigh again, to prevent yourself from crying because you absolutely loathe it.

He notices and immediately puts his hand on yours to stop you. He hates seeing you like this and he looks at you, not wanting you to suppress this anymore.

His hand on yours, however, makes you feel even worse. Worse because it makes your stomach do flips and you can feel your heart beat faster. Worse because you know it only carries the connotation of a friend comforting a friend…nothing more. You pull your hand away and continue smoking.

He doesn’t say anything and he doesn’t try to take your hand back. It hurts him to see you pull yourself away. He just wants to make you feel better, feel safe, feel loved. Feel nothing but happiness because that’s all you deserve. But you don’t. He wants to give you everything, and so, he tries again to comfort you. He reaches for your hand, gently taking it into his, it enveloping yours as he holds it as if it is the most delicate thing on earth.

“Don’t.” you whisper, taking your hand away.

You didn’t want to. God, you didn’t want to. His hand felt like silk against yours, but you felt like you didn’t deserve it. Compared to his, your hand was like felt, worth far less than his. You didn’t want him to hold your hand, not like this. You wanted it to mean something, have some sort of value. Not for comfort. Not because he’s your best friend. Not because he felt bad. But because he loved you. Because he wanted to hold your hand and be proud as he held it. Because he wanted to claim you as is. Because you wanted to be his.

He lets go of your hand and stays silent for a moment. It was as if a part of him died inside as you pulled away your hand. All the thoughts that he was having a few seconds ago were replaced by sadness. His hands tightened into fists from the frustration of being unable to comfort you or take away your sadness. He wanted so desperately to try again, but he knew that there was nothing he could do right now. Slowly, he takes another drag of his cigarette, and you do the same with yours.

“Did you cry whenever he would talk about his girlfriend like that? Did you cry anytime he complimented her?”

You don’t answer for a while. “Yeah. When he told me he loved her, I cried later. After that, I pretended like I didn't care. And for a while, it worked. I would just hook up with guys and I would still talk and hang out with him because he didn't treat me like what everyone else saw me as. He never did. And that's one of the reasons I fell in love with him, I guess, but then sometimes...he would start talking about her and then I just...felt worse. At some point, I just kind of felt numb about it, especially after he told me about the first time they had sex. He talked about it like it was so special...like she was so special...and I just decided then and there I couldn't love him. So, I just pretended and after a while, I thought I didn't love him anymore, but one night, he started talking about how he couldn't lose his girlfriend, how he wanted to make things with her work and I felt that same feeling again, like I was going to be sick. Then, I heard him say what he really thought about me and that was the last time I cried about him.”

“What did he say about you? Did he insult you?” he asks as he feels himself becoming angry, wondering what this jerk could’ve possibly said about you to make you feel this way. But, you don’t answer, you just remain quiet and that made him want to punch this guy even more. “Do you miss him?” he asks, quietly.

“...i miss being oblivious to the fact that I love him.”

He feels his heart drop when you say that. You still love him? He swallows, feeling like he’s choking and as if all of the oxygen has been sucked out of the atmosphere. “So…you do love him. You’re still in love with him?” Once you ignore him again, the answer is clear. “You do still love him…” he mumbles. Anger courses through his veins because you’re in love with someone so fucking awful. How could you give all of yourself to someone who is too blind to see how much you’re worth? How much you mean and value you provide to the meaning of life it’s goddamn self? He watches as you continue smoking. “So, you mean to tell me, after everything he’s done to you, you still love him?”

“He doesn’t know.”

“He doesn’t know you’re in love with him?”

“I told you, I never told him.”

This doesn’t help him feel any less bad for you. Some douche was out and about being happy and in love while you suffer on the sidelines? “Are you ever going to tell him?”

You shake your head as you look down. How could you? Especially since you’re delivering this whole pathetic monologue and he still isn’t taking any goddamn hint.

“Is it because he’s still with his girlfriend?”

“I don’t want to talk about this.” you say as you finish your cigarette.

He becomes frustrated, “Is he?”

“No.”

“So, they broke up.” You ignore his question once more. He waits a few seconds before speaking up again, “I’m taking that as a ‘yes’ then.”

“Why does it matter? Why do you care?”

“Why do I care?” he asks as if this question has the most obvious answer. He scoffs and takes another drag out of frustration. “Because I’m your best friend, dumbass.”

This only makes you frown as you pinch your thigh again to stop the tears threatening to fall. He frowns as well when he sees this and reaches his hand over again. “Stop.” he says as he grabs your hand. You look down at your hands and you take yours away again. He feels a lump form in his throat when you pull your hand away as a pit of sadness just keeps growing and growing in his stomach. “Why are you doing that? …do you honestly think I don’t care about you?” You just keep staring ahead of you, not looking at him once. He takes another drag and sighs. “Have I ever given you a reason for you to think that I don’t care? Have I hurt you like that guy did?”

His questions make you stay silent for a long time. You wish that you could just disappear. Or that you could go back in time and stop yourself from having these stupid feelings. Or…that you never met him in the first place. Maybe then things would be easier. Better.

“Just…answer me.” he says, pleading, almost. He wants you to understand that he is here for you, he always will be and nothing is going to get in the way of that anymore. He wants this to be clear, so he tries to hold your hand again to show his support, but you take it away once he does.

“Are you pretending or are you actually this clueless?” you ask, becoming frustrated, your voice having a hint of pain in it.

His stomach tightened when you rejected him once more. He doesn’t look at you, suddenly afraid to see your expression. He doesn’t know what to do, how to make you feel better. He stays silent for a moment and continues smoking. “Pretending about what?” he asks. You become increasingly frustrated and pinch your thigh again. He notices and grabs your hand again, “Stop.” he says sternly, but you pull your hand away.

“Jesus, you’re the guy.”

He feels himself freeze. “What the hell do you mean ‘I’m the guy’?”

“Are you dense?” you raise an eyebrow. “You’re the guy I’ve been talking about this whole damn time!”

“...i’m the guy?” he asks, completely stunned. You let out a huff of frustration and stand up, walking away. He doesn’t hesitate to stand up and go after you. He grabs your arm to stop you. “Wait, you can’t just leave…”

You keep pinching your thigh, a part of you believing it will wake you up from this nightmare as you avoid his gaze. You take your arm away from his grip. “Just forget it.”

“No. You just said I’m the guy, right? The one you’re in love with?” He asks, all of his focus on you. You ignore his question and turn around, walking away. He groans and he moves in front of you, stopping you. “You love me?” But you just avoid his gaze and don’t answer his question. He sighs, “I’m not letting you leave until you tell me.”

“No.”

He frowns. “Look at me.” he whispers. “Please…” he moves closer to you. “Do you love me?”

“Why does it matter?”

“You tell me. Why doesn’t it matter?”

You punch your thigh harshly a few times as you finally look at him. Your breath hitches as tears well in your eyes, despite you trying to ignore them. “Because I’m just a slut.”

He grabs your hand and stops you. He feels panicked, not knowing what to do or say. He doesn’t want you to cry or punish yourself. “Stop it. Stop with that bullshit. You’re not a slut, don’t you dare ever call yourself that.”

“You said it yourself. You agree with everyone else. I know you don't feel the same. I know you'll never talk about me the way you talk about Yujin or see me the way you see her. I know you said you guys broke up, but so what? I know what I am and I know that's all I'll ever be.”

He feels tears prick his own eyes as he listens to you. He shakes his head, “Stop that. Stop saying that I’ll never feel the same. Stop saying that you’re just a slut.”

“It doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter! It matters to me. You’re not just “some slut”. You’re my best friend.”

You frown as you feel the urge to cry become stronger. You take your hand away and you pinch your thigh again, just wanting the tears to go away. What he said made you feel awful. It’s not what you wanted to hear. You didn’t want to be just that…and he just kept reminding you that that’s all you are. “...do you honestly think that makes me feel better?”

He frowns, “Fine. Maybe it doesn’t make you feel better. But it should. Because it’s the fucking truth.”

“Are you even thinking about what I told you? Are you even thinking about how you're the guy I've been talking about? How every time you talked about Yujin, every time I saw you hold her hand, how you talked about her when you told me about the first time you guys had sex, that I just wanted to curl up and die? You don't get it. You calling me your best friend doesn't make me feel any fucking better. It makes me feel worse than when people call me a slut. But I don't want you to stand here and try to make me feel better, because if you think telling me you care about me because I'm your 'best friend' is going to make me feel better, then you haven't listened to a damn thing I've said.”

He stares at you sympathetically. He stares at you as he realizes just how badly he’s broken your heart. As he realizes he broke your heart.

“I don't want to be your best friend. I don't want you to tell me I'm your best friend.” You keep pinching your thigh harder, but tears roll down your cheeks anyway. “I wanted it to be me.” you say as you cry even though you keep pinching harder. “I wanted to hold your hand romantically. I wanted you to smile at me the way you did with her. I wanted you to talk about me the way you talked about her.” Your breath hitches as you cry and pinch your thigh harder, your nails digging into your skin. “I wanted to be special to you. I wanted you to tell me you love me. I wanted to be your girlfriend...more than anything in the world.” You cry harder even though you try not to and you dig your nails more into your thigh.

He’s never seen you cry. Not when you broke your arm, not when your pet goldfish died, not when your first boyfriend broke up with you, not even when you get incredibly frustrated. He has never seen you cry. But he hates it. He doesn’t want to see you so sad, so hurt, in so much pain…and he hated it even more because he–the one person you loved more than anything else–was the one who was making you feel this way. He pulls you into him, hugging you tightly, just wanting to take your pain away, just wanting you to…feel loved. But you push him away and wipe your tears, and he notices the imprints from your nails on your thighs. He doesn’t even realize it, but he reaches his hand out and gently touches the marks as he looks at them. He touches the ridges softly and your skin feels so smooth to him, so precious, but you push his hand away. His eyes travel up to meet yours and he sees you’ve stopped crying.

“Why wouldn’t you just have told me how you felt?” he asks, quietly.

“For starters, you had a girlfriend. The other reason: it doesn’t matter.”

“What if I never got with Yujin? What if I was single the whole time?”

“I didn’t realize I loved you until you started dating her…”

“Why her? I’ve dated other girls before, so why her?”

You shrug, “She’s the only one you really seemed to be serious about…the only one you told you loved. Besides…I’m not some sort of homewrecker.”

“I wish you told me.” he whispers. “You were never going to tell me?”

“No.”

“So, you were just hoping I would never find out?”

“Yes.”

“So, you were just going to keep that secret for the rest of your life?”

“Yeah.”

“So, you were just going to live with that pain forever?”

“Are you going to keep asking the same question?”

“I just want to know…” he says as if he’s desperate. “Why…why would you not tell me?”

“Because you were with Yujin! Because you kept telling me how much you loved her! How pretty you thought she was, how happy you were to be with her, how smart and kind and funny and fucking perfect you thought she was! You were happy. You were happy with someone who wasn't me and although that killed me, you were happy. I couldn't do that to you.” you say as your voice breaks.

“So that justified you suffering in silence? Why would you rather see me happy while you were in pain?”

You look at him like the answer was obvious. How does he not get it? You stare at him as you remain quiet, looking at him as if it’s your last time. “Because I love you.” you say, softly.

He feels like you’re looking at him as if he is the most special person to walk on earth. He swallows out of nervousness as he realizes you gave him your heart completely. “You love me so much that you were willing to put yourself through hell just to see me be happy?” He doesn’t feel worthy of that…but you seem to think he is. You love him.

“Wouldn’t you have done the same for Yujin?”

You don’t want to hear him answer this. You don’t want to know, but you feel like he doesn’t understand. You feel like you keep repeating yourself and he’s relishing in it.

He doesn’t know how to answer. Would he? Hearing how you describe your love for him, he realizes what he felt for Yujin maybe wasn’t love. Maybe it was comfort. Or security. Or the fact that someone wanted to be with him so seriously. Maybe he did love her, but…not the way you love him. This sounds like love. This sounds like what he was supposed to feel. “Yes…” he says, not really sure if that’s true. He wants to believe he loves her. He wants to believe he didn’t waste almost four years on something that ends up meaning absolutely nothing. He has to love her.

“Then you get it.”

“Did you just hope we would break up one day so you and I would get together?”

You sigh, “You still don't get it. I know you don't feel the same way. I know I am not the type of girl you want to be with. I'm not the type of girl any guy wants to be with seriously.”

How could you say that about yourself? Sunghoon doesn’t believe any of that, not for a single fucking second. “That isn’t true. You’re smart, kind, funny, and pretty.”

“Stop.”

“No. It’s true. Everything I just said is true. You think no guy would be able to fall in love with you, but they would. You would make an awesome girlfriend.” he tries to reassure you.

You don’t want any guy.

“You’re not making me feel better.”

“What am I supposed to do, then? Agree with the bullshit you’re saying about yourself? Because that’s not fucking happening.”

“What I want you to say…you can’t.”

“Try me. Tell me.”

You just look at him. He doesn’t get it. He isn’t saying it because he doesn’t feel the same. This realization makes you feel like you’re crumpling. You look at him, defeated. If you have to tell him, you know he would only say it to make you feel better, not because he actually wants to. That. That’s what hurts the most. He would say it because you’re his best friend…but you don’t want to be.

“...are you going to try and get back together with Yujin?”

He pauses. He thinks about it for a second. “Right now…I don’t know. I guess a part of me wants to try still. Does that make me shitty?” He’s not sure why he does. Yujin is the first girl he’s ever told he loved…and he doesn’t say it often. Maybe he’s like you, in a way. He doesn’t really like saying stuff like that. It felt weird when he said it. But he thinks that’s just because he’s never said it before.

“Why would I?”

“I feel like an asshole for even considering it after everything you’ve told me-”

“She’s the one you love.”

“I’m not so sure about that.” he says, truthfully. He just needs to think. He just needs one damn second to think.

“Then let me make it clear: be with her. From my perspective, she's the one you want. What I told you, how I so stupidly cried in front of you, that doesn't matter. I told you this earlier: you should've chosen her. So just, make up with her tomorrow or whatever and be with her.” you swallow. “...but I can't be your friend.”

He sees you giving up. He hears it. He hates it. His mind is running a thousand miles per minute, he can’t fucking think and it’s pissing him off. “It’s not that easy. I can’t just ‘choose’ between the two of you. I’m confused, I just…I want to be with whoever makes me happy.”

He’s always been happy with you. Sure, you two fought, but you always got over it. You make him happy. So goddamn happy. But he’s scared. He just gave nearly four years of his life to Yujin…what if it’s because he does love her?

“That’s her.”

“How are you so sure it’s not you?”

“I know.”

He groans in frustration. “So, I have to choose between the two of you?”

You. He chooses you. He’s not sure about the rest of it, but all he knows is that he chooses you. Four years with Yujin doesn’t compare to the years you and him have had together. Nothing else matters. You. Just you.

“Just be with her.”

“What if I want to be with you?”

He hasn’t thought about it. Maybe he chooses you only as a best friend. What if he doesn’t choose you for love? …does he love you? He recalls the teasing from classmates when you guys were younger, but he's never really given any thought to it possibly becoming real. Does he love you the same way he loves Yujin? Does he even love Yujin? He doesn’t know…he just doesn’t know.

“You don’t.”

“And what makes you so sure that I choose Yujin over you? What makes you so sure you’re ‘not enough’ for me?”

“...because you would’ve chosen me first.”

“I can still choose you.”

You sigh, “You're making this complicated. You know she's the one you love, stop feeling bad for me like I'm some lost puppy and just admit it. I don't want your pity and I certainly don't want you to say you ‘choose me’ because you're confusing your pity for feelings. Stop saying I'm this great girl and stop saying any guy would be lucky to have me, that makes me feel worse. So just make up with Yujin and get back with her. Reassure her that you love her because you do and tell her I won't be a problem anymore because you and I aren't anything anymore. Problem solved.”

Is this really what you believed? Is this really what you thought? He just needed some time, he can’t think. He doesn’t know what to think anymore. You were speaking as if it was impossible for him to love you, but what if he does? How is he supposed to know? How did he know with Yujin? He’s questioning whether he even loved her since he can’t even compare how he feels about you with whatever he felt with her. He just knows it’s stronger. But stronger in what way? He sees how you’re looking at him and he realizes the only way for him to succeed in making you feel better–which is what he truly wants–is to just listen to you. He doesn’t want to. But he wants to see you be happy, even if it means he isn’t.

“Are you really sure this is what you want me to do?” he barely asks, the words leaving his mouth without any fervor, as if he never wanted to utter them in the first place. As if he doesn’t want to hear your answer; see you walk out of his life.

You don’t answer him. You just look at him before walking past him. You hold your breath, knowing that once you exhale, you’re going to start sobbing. You felt so lonely. So lonely. You’ve always had him…and then you lost him to Yujin…and now, you’ve lost him for good.

He doesn’t turn around to look at you as you walk away, because he knows if he does, he will run after you and that clearly isn’t what you want. You want to let him go, at least that’s how he understands it. He doesn’t want that. He wants you. He knows that much, he knows he needs you. He’s not sure how things will look without you now. He never thought it would be like this, but here he is. …why does this feel so much worse than when Yujin walked away from him? Why does this hurt more than his actual breakup? The reason is one he doesn’t want to admit. He realizes the answer and he refuses to let it grow to fruition. He doesn’t know why it took him until now to figure it out, but he’ll realize that later. He wanted time…now, he’s got it.

Deja vu. That’s what this all feels like. Here Sunghoon was, again, at another stupid frat party around midnight. Here he was, again, with Yujin. He took your advice, he decided to apologize and get back together with her, and these past few months without you have felt like torture. Even using torture to describe it seems too dull. He has thought about nothing but you. He’s heard around campus about people you’ve hooked up with, but he doesn’t feed into it. As he stands here with Yujin at this godforsaken party, all he can feel is regret. He leans against a wall as Yujin talks with her friends and he practically chugs his drink. He doesn’t even want to leave the party because he doesn't think it's worth to waste any of his wants on anything but you. You make up all of his desires and he wants nothing more than for you to be back into his life. He finishes the rest of his drink and to his surprise, he does see you. He stands up straighter as he looks at you, but feels like his insides are on fire when he realizes you’re making out with Sungchan. On the couch. On the couch, you are making out with Sungchan. On the couch, Sungchan is running his hands along your hips and waist. On the couch, you let him.

You would be lying if you said you didn’t miss Sunghoon. A part of you went missing the night you walked away from him. You’ve seen him around campus with Yujin and eventually, it finally felt like you were over it all. Over him. You wouldn’t say you’ve been getting around quite frequently, but you won’t lie when you say that you did get with some guys to help get over him. It didn’t work. But you won’t admit to that. To you, at least, you’re over it. Over him. Sungchan helped a bit with some of the lonely nights, but you two aren’t anything serious. He’s not into that sort of thing and, hey, neither are you…so this is fine. He doesn’t lie to you about how he feels or what he wants and for that, you’re grateful. Although, you do have to admit, making out with him feels boring. Being with him feels boring. It’s not fun like it used to be…and even then, you aren’t completely sure it was even fun in the first place. Whatever, you’ll get into it at some point.

Sunghoon watches, now it really feels like deja vu. Is he dreaming? Or…is this him getting a second chance? Is this when he can finally pull you away from Sungchan and be there for you? Finally tell you how he feels? How he felt the whole time…? Suddenly, his spirits are slightly lifted, that is, until Yujin crosses her arms and scoffs before shoving him. Sunghoon is surprised and turns his attention towards her. Some people look at them, but Yujin doesn’t care, she just looks at Sunghoon, furious.

“Do you even want me to be your girlfriend?”

Maybe honesty wouldn’t be best right now. “I do…”

“Then stop looking at her.”

“Let’s…not make a scene.” he says, trying to calm her down.

“Just be honest for once: do you love me or her?”

He doesn’t know how to answer. He knows his answer, he’s had months to figure it out. But…you made yourself clear. You were done with each other. He sighs. “Can I get a moment to figure it out?” he asks, honestly a bit surprised he didn’t just cave and reassure her.

Yujin frowns and scoffs. “Let me ask you this, then. Do you wish that you were making out with her?”

He looks back at you and Sungchan, seeing him whisper something to you and you giggling before he kisses you again. He looks back at Yujin. “Yeah.” he swallows, gathering all of his courage. “But, that sounds…awful. It’s like you want me to admit I regret getting back together with you or something-”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” he answers without hesitation. He feels all of his muscles tense up. Did he really just say that? Well…it’s the truth, but he never thought he would say it. He feels…better.

Yujin quickly squashes that by slapping him, “We’re done.” she says before storming out, her friends following. Sure, the slap hurt, but as Sunghoon looks back at you and Sungchan…the pain from the slap seems so insignificant in comparison.

You decide to tell Sungchan you’re getting a drink, so you get up from the couch and go into the kitchen. You pour yourself a drink and once you do, you walk to the backyard and take a seat on the patio.

Sunghoon figures you want to be alone…but finds himself following you outside anyway. He walks over to you cautiously. You and him have spoken consistently for practically your whole lives, but he finds himself struggling to even say a simple sentence or ask a question. The time you’ve spent apart was multiple days…too many fucking days in his opinion. He can’t stand it. “Can I sit here?” he asks, referencing the spot beside you. You shrug as you take a sip of your drink. He feels relieved, baby steps, right? He takes a seat beside you and thinks for a moment on how to keep the conversation going. “So…what were you telling Sungchan?” …has he lost the ability to socialize or something because why was this the question he asks? He bites his bottom lip a bit in frustration at himself.

“Spying on me?” you tease as you extend your cup, offering him some.

Sunghoon chuckles softly and shakes his head. Hearing your voice for the first time in months makes him remember just how much he’s missed you. He feels like everything in his life is restored and he smiles a bit. “You guys were all over each other on the couch, is it really weird for me to wonder?”

You shrug, “I mean, just typical flirting and dirty talk or whatever. Why?”

He feels his breath catch in his throat. “Dirty talk”?...what the fuck? “Um…no reason…I guess I was just…curious or something.” he mumbles.

“Are you here with Yujin?” you ask as you take another sip of your drink.

He shakes his head. “Well, not anymore. She broke up with me so…I’m alone now.” he realizes how that might’ve come off. “Alone here now…not…me alone altogether…or anything.” he cringes and looks away from you, feeling completely stupid.

“What? Why did she break up with you?”

“She…saw me…looking at you and Sungchan…so she broke up with me.” he says, not really wanting to say the other stuff from the argument. You laugh in response and he frowns. “Don’t laugh.”

You nudge his shoulder, “It’s okay. If she broke up with you for that dumb of a reason, her loss.” You say as you take another sip.

He smiles slightly. It feels like old times. It feels like he has you back. It feels like you want him back. “Yeah, you’re probably right. It’s probably best I don’t have her constantly being suspicious about me and you.”

“Especially since we haven’t talked in months.”

He feels caught off guard by your blunt statement. Sure, it’s true…but it sounds like you didn’t miss him. “Yeah…we haven’t talked in a while.” You just take another sip of your drink and he looks back at you. “I’ve missed you.” He waited for you to say something back, but you didn’t. “I’ve um…missed talking to you like before. Like, before…everything got complicated and stuff-”

“I know what you meant.”

He nods his head a bit, everything now feeling awkward. “So…what have you been up to? Anything interesting happen?”

“Nope.”

“Really? Nothing? Nothing at all?”

“Yup” you say as you take another drink.

“So…for the past few months, you’ve done absolutely nothing interesting?” he asks, his tone being more lighthearted and joking to try and diffuse the tension.

“No offense, but I’m not really looking to ‘catch up’ with you.”

Sunghoon feels his heart stop for a moment, but he tries to play it off. “Okay, ouch.” he laughs nervously, “So you’re not even remotely interested in talking with me?”

You shrug, “I dunno. These past few months without you, I’ve kinda just been doing my own thing, I guess.”

Your response left him feeling worthless. Like, he didn’t even mean a single thing to you before. Which, he knows isn’t true…but you sound like you mean it. “So, you haven’t missed me at all? Not even talking to me?”

“At first, yeah. But don’t worry, I’m not in love with you anymore.”

“...you’re not…in love with me anymore…?” he asks as he feels his blood run cold. You just shake your head and continue drinking from your cup. His heart sinks immediately. He feels small; insignificant. His mind jumps back to Sungchan and he frowns. “Are you in love with him now?”

“Him?”

“Sungchan.”

“Eh,” you shrug, “we’re not dating, just casual, I guess.”

“So, you’re not exclusive with him?”

“No.”

“And you’re okay with that?”

“Yeah.”

He feels himself growing jealous and frustrated. How could you give yourself to someone who doesn’t love you? Sunghoon feels upset, realizing he unintentionally did the same thing, but still, not to this extent. He knows you. He knows you don’t want this…hopefully. But he sure as hell knows that you don’t deserve this.

“That’s ridiculous. How can you be committed to this?”

“I’m not committed.”

He groans, “That’s…not what I meant. What do you two even get out of this?”

You shrug, “Why do you care? I get you’re a relationship guy even though you’ve only been serious with one girl, but don’t shit on me and what I choose to do.”

The way you spoke got under his skin. “I care because I happen to care about the people around me. In case you haven’t noticed, I care about you.” But you just roll your eyes. “Don’t roll your eyes. I’m being serious. Why do you feel like this isn’t worth talking about?”

“Because we aren’t friends. We aren’t anything. I don’t need your input.”

It feels like you’ve slapped him in the face, and this time, it fucking stings. “What do you mean we aren’t friends? We grew up together, how the hell are we not friends?”

“Are you stupid?”

“Am I stupid?” he asks, offended and frustrated. He was starting to lose his patience. “No. I’m not. I still consider you as my friend. We grew up together, went to the same schools, hung out every damn day, how is none of that relevant?”

“We haven’t spoken in months.”

“So what?” he asks, feeling as though your friendship suddenly means less than nothing to you, somehow.

“I told you that night that I wasn’t going to be your friend anymore.”

He freezes. He knows. He also knows you don’t just say shit without it meaning anything. He knows you aren’t friends anymore, but he doesn’t want that. He doesn’t want you to be nothing to each other. He thought that if, maybe, he admitted he still sees you as his friend, you would admit the same. But you don’t. And now he feels that same empty feeling. “So…you’re just fine with letting us go without a second thought?”

You look at him, “Do you not remember anything from that night? Of course if fucking hurt; I was in love with you.”

“So it does matter.”

You sigh, “It doesn’t matter anymore; that was a long time ago.” you say as you take another sip.

He looks at you for a moment, feeling like his heart has become a punching bag and you were just taking any hit you could. Was this really the same person he grew up with? That he… “How could it not matter anymore? We used to mean the world to each other…how can that just…be…over?”

You look at him, “Because I had to get over you.”

“It’s not that easy. I spent everyday thinking about you. Everyday.”

“Why?”

“Because I love you!” He thought your question was so redundant, he honestly didn’t even realize what he said at first.

“But…” you sit there, stunned. He finally said what you wanted him to say for so long, even if it was with a frustrated tone, still…it counted. “What about Yujin?”

“She…she doesn’t matter. You do. She always suspected I was in love with you-”

“Well, this is news to me.”

He deadpans. “Are you being fucking serious? I get I never said it before, but…” he pauses; he sees what you mean. “Okay…but…you never once thought it was possible that I love you?”

“No. Because that night when I told you that I was in love with you, you just kept saying I was your best friend. You’re so full of it.”

“I’m not full of it! I just…for fucks sake, I just didn’t know. I thought…I don’t know, I thought maybe for you it was just passing, or something, I don’t know what I thought I just…I don’t know.”

“Right. So as I stood there, crying my eyes out as I told you how much I loved you, you thought it was one sided.” you say as you roll your eyes.

“I…” he feels like he did that night, like he can’t think. “I just didn’t know, maybe something was holding me back, I don’t know.”

“I know why.”

He looks at you, relieved, thankful that you understand what he means. “You do?”

“Of course you didn’t want to admit to that. How embarrassing for you to have a crush on one of the school’s biggest sluts.”

He frowns. “That’s not what I mean. You honestly think it’s embarrassing for me to like you?”

“Exactly. And you knew that. I don’t blame you, no guy wants their girlfriend to be a whore.” You take another sip of your drink and you look at him. “Look, I’m not mad. I got over it and I honestly don’t care anymore. I know what I am and I know that until we graduate, that’s all I’ll probably be. But it doesn’t matter. Yujin breaking up with you not too long ago was dumb, you’re a really great guy, but you’ll find someone else.” You take another sip, “I should probably head back in and find Sungchan.”

He felt anger wash over him. Not because you don’t believe him about being in love with you. Not because you were going to Sungchan. But because of the fact that you believe the things you say about yourself. You’re so special, so goddamn special, and Sunghoon is so scared as he realizes he may be too late.

“And what if I don’t want to find someone else? What if I don’t want anyone else but you?”

You look at him for a moment. “Do you remember how you would talk about Yujin with me? You may not remember everything you said, but I remember it all and I remember how you looked as you said it. You talked about her like she was the most special and most beautiful girl in the world. You had this smile that you only had with her…” you pause for a moment, “You may say you have feelings for me…but they're not like the ones you had for her, and that’s okay. I don’t want you to feel bad because you deserve to be happy, but you also deserve to find another girl that makes you talk and feel that same way…and I know that’s not me.”

You’re so wrong. You’re so fucking wrong and it was pissing him off. He wishes he just figured this out earlier. He wishes that he asked you out instead. He wishes that he told you he loves you that night. He wishes he kissed you. He wishes he held you and didn’t let go. He swallows, “You remember everything I said?” he asks, slightly surprised to hear that. Honestly, he doesn’t even remember what he said. Not anymore.

“Of course I do…I wanted nothing more than for it to be me.” you say quietly as you take a sip and sigh. “But like I said, water under the bridge.”

He feels tears begin to form. “Why did we have to grow apart? Why didn’t you just talk to me? Just one damn word. Something. I didn’t want to lose you.”

“I can’t be your friend.”

“Why not?”

You look at him for a long moment, just staying quiet. “...I’m only going to say this once…but if I stayed your friend, I would just keep hurting myself…I would still love you.”

He stays quiet for a while. Even the loud music and chatter from the people inside seemed to drown out as he looked at you; you’re all that matters; you’re all that deserves his attention. “...did it hurt when we would talk everyday?”

You sigh softly and shake your head. “Not until you started dating Yujin. Before that, everything was fine. But once she happened…it hurt like hell.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I told you. I couldn’t do that to you, you were happy.”

“I would have wanted to know. I would have wanted to be there for you…”

You laugh a little, “No, that’s weird.” You shake your head and still laugh a little, “It’s fine, I’m over it.”

“It’s not weird. It’s not okay for you to act like everything is fine.” he says, softly.

“Why are you trying to rehash this? There’s no point. Or do you like to hear about how I used to love you and it gives you some sort of ego boost or something?” you ask, not wanting to dive back into this…not again. He shakes his head, but he sighs. What is the point? You aren’t believing him and you’ve said it yourself…you’re over him. You stand up and his eyes follow you, “I’m gonna go find Sungchan. Later.” you say, not really meaning the ‘later’ part, but nonetheless, you walk away and all he can do is watch you leave…again.

He heads back into the party, wanting to find solace in getting batshit drunk or something, but he continues to torture himself by watching you dance with Sungchan. His eyes only focus on you, sure, he’s jealous and pissed off that you’re with Sungchan, but he only sees you. Sees how you move and he finds himself wishing you were dancing with him.

Sungchan pulls you closer, just whispering sweet nothings in your ear and you feel his hands grab your ass. You giggle a little and try to enjoy your time with him as he starts kissing your neck. You laugh softly as you dance with him and, unfortunately for Sunghoon, he’s bearing witness to it all. His hand practically crushes his red solo cup as fury ignites within him when he watches what Sungchan is doing. That should be him. Not that he would be so…vulgar with his actions, but it should still be him instead. He sees Sungchan whisper something to you as he takes your hand and starts taking you upstairs.

As he watched the two of you making your way upstairs, his whole body shook and trembled in rage. Every step that the two of you took together enraged him. He hated the way you casually held his hand and how he casually walked you up the stairs. He hated how he acted as if he had every right to touch you like that. He hated the fact that you were both so comfortable with one another at this point. He hated the fact that he was leading you away to his room…

You were so focused on following Sungchan, you were surprised to feel a tug on your other hand once you reached the top of the stairs. Both Sungchan and you stop and you turn to see Sunghoon holding your other hand.

Sunghoon felt at ease, like he was grounded when he felt your hand in his. This made him more confident as he tugged you towards him, wanting you away from Sungchan. This pisses Sungchan off and he scoffs as he looks at Sunghoon.

“The hell?” Sungchan says, not in the mood for any games. He tugs the hand he was holding, pulling you back towards him, but you find yourself only focused on Sunghoon as your heart starts to beat faster.

Sunghoon pulls you back towards him, his grip on your hand tightening. “Back off.” he says as he glares at Sungchan.

“You back off.” Sungchan says as he tugs you back towards him.

Sunghoon realized that you were just being tugged around, so he stopped, but he kept holding your hand. “Let go of her.”

“You let go of her.” He looks at you, “Who the hell is this guy?” Sungchan asks, annoyed.

“Someone who actually loves her instead of using her.”

You look at Sunghoon, surprised to hear him say that. Sure, he said he loved you earlier…but this time when he said it, he said it like it was what he meant to say; what he wanted to say.

Sungchan laughs. “You love her?”

Sunghoon glares at him. “Yes. I love her. Now back off.”

Sungchan scoffs and puts his arm around you. “Tell you what, bud, you can have her when I’m done.” Sungchan winks as he pulls you towards him.

Sunghoon feels enraged. This asshole was acting so entitled, acting like he won this argument when Sunghoon knew damn well he wasn’t giving up. The fact that he had the nerve to call him “bud” too made Sunghoon want to throw him down the flight of fucking stairs. How he treated you was disgusting, talking about you like that in front of you. Sunghoon tugged you towards him one last time and Sungchan rolled his eyes.

“Whatever.” Sungchan looks at you, “You know where my room is.” he says as he winks at you before walking away.

Sunghoon grimaces as Sungchan leaves, but feels better once he’s gone. The whole time, you were just looking at Sunghoon and you feel as though your heart is beating out of your chest as he holds your hand. After what he said. After all of this. He meets your gaze and he looks at you in a much more gentle manner.

“You deserve so much more…” he whispers, his breath lightly brushing along your face since you’re so close together. “I’m sorry. I’m so fucking sorry-”

“Stop.”

“No.” he says as he lets go of your hand and uses it instead to gently cup your face. “I wasn’t lying. You are all I’ve thought about for these past few months and you’re all I can ever think about. I’ve missed you every single damn second of the day and I’m sorry I was too scared to say it all before. I love you. And all this time, I’ve just thought about what you mean to me and the answer is everything; you mean everything to me. ...that seems like such a vague thing to say now that I say it out loud.” he chuckles softly, “But everything means nothing if you’re not with me. Eating, sleeping, breathing, blinking, are all pointless if I can’t spend one goddamn second with you. I’m not embarrassed of you and I only realized that night when you left that I’ve always been in love with you. Always. What I felt with Yujin is all meaningless when I compare it to how I feel about you. I love you. It was never her. Not for even a millisecond. You asked me if I would put myself through pain just to see her happy and I told you yes. I lied. I thought that was what I would do, but I realized I actually did that with you. I let you walk away because that’s what you wanted. I didn’t want that, god-” he takes a sharp inhale as he rests his forehead on yours, “It’s always been you…and I’m so sorry I never said it until now. I’m so sorry I put you through all of that shit. I’m so sorry, but please…” he whispers as he looks into your eyes, all of his focus only on you. “I love you.”

You feel your breath hitch slightly and you feel so tempted just to kiss him, but you hold yourself back. You smile a little bit and pull away slightly, feeling relieved. “...I need to smoke. You want one?” you ask as you take his hand, going into an empty bedroom.

He closes the door behind the two of you as you walk over and sit on the bed, opening the window beside it. He sits beside you as you take out your pack and he smiles a bit. “Yeah, I do.” he says as you hand him one. He watches as you light yours and then you light his for him. You both sit silently for a moment as you smoke, it being a comfortable silence until he speaks. “Thank you.” he says, mainly for lighting his cigarette, but he does want it to apply to you not leaving him again.

“I forgive you.” you say after a moment.

“You do?” he asks as he takes a drag and looks at you.

“Yeah.” you say as you take another drag yourself. “But you’ve got to get better at saying how you feel.” you tease.

He scoffs playfully and nudges your arm. “Says you.” he mumbles as he continues to smoke.

You laugh softly and shrug. “We’ll work on it.” you say before exhaling your smoke and he nods his head a bit as you both look out of the window for a moment. You glance at him and inhale from your cigarette before gently pulling him towards you. He turns his head to look at you and you kiss him gently, shotgunning the smoke slowly into his mouth.

His eyes widen a bit as his heart beats rapidly. He closes his eyes as he inhales, letting the smoke slowly fill his lungs while he leans forward to kiss you back, indulging in the feeling of your lips on his even if it wasn’t an actual kiss. After blowing out the smoke, you break the kiss and watch as he exhales the smoke. He does it slowly, feeling as though his lips are tingling, begging to meet yours again. He smirks a bit after he exhales all of the smoke and looks at you. “Damn…that was good.” he whispers as he blushes a bit.

You grin, taking another drag, “I’ve missed you.”

He takes a drag as well as smiles softly. “I’ve missed you, too.” It goes quiet, but this time, a comfortable silence as you two smoke. He blows some smoke out of the window and looks back at you. “Do you think…we could give this another shot?”

You follow suit and blow some smoke out of the window before looking at him. “Our friendship or…something more this time?”

“Something more. Both, hopefully.” he smirks a bit as he says this, taking another drag.

You smirk a little back and chuckle softly, “I really want that.”

“So do I.” he whispers as his eyes lock onto yours. He smiles softly, “We’re going to be official.”

He reaches for your hand and carefully interlaces his fingers with yours. You take another drag as you smile shyly. “Good…” you say, softly.

Your fingers seem to fit with his perfectly; everything about you is perfect and it was things like this that make him realize it all the more. You hold hands as you smoke silently, both feeling a fluttering excitement in your stomachs as your relationship dynamic shifts to one that you both have been longing for before you even realized it yourselves. He glances at you as he exhales some smoke.

“Good? Wow…I was expecting some more passion out of that.” he teases, gently squeezing your hand.

You laugh before finishing your cigarette and putting it out. You turn your body a bit to face him, “What about…fucking incredible?”

He laughs loudly at your new choice of phrasing. He calms down after a moment, “That’s more like it.” he says with a grin before smoking his cigarette again. His gaze lingers on you as he watches you smile at his reaction. Stunning. He leans in, letting go of your hand, placing his left hand beside you on the bed as his lips meet yours, kissing you.

You don’t waste a single second, kissing him back immediately as your hand makes its way to the back of his head, your fingers threading with his hair as you push yourself slightly forward, pressing your lips against his more. He inhales sharply as he moves his left arm around your waist, pulling you closer, desperately. He puts out his cigarette and discards it, using his other arm to wrap around you as well as he pulls you onto his lap. You part your legs, straddling his lap as you grin a bit into the kiss, both of your hands using their fingers to gently tug on the ends of his soft hair. You feel yourself fill with excitement, the fact that this is really happening after every inch of your body has desired this exact moment makes you feel restless.

Sunghoon runs his hands up and down your thighs, squeezing them gently, before moving them up to your hips, and then your waist. His hands suddenly felt so big against your skin, his fingers sending shivers throughout your whole body anywhere they touch. He opens his mouth slightly more and you take this as a sign to slip your tongue into it. He grins, this time, and he pulls you closer to him by gripping your waist; your bodies now pressed tightly against each other. He moves his hands to cup your face and you move yours to rest against his chest, your fingers tightly gripping his shirt in an attempt to somehow kiss him deeper. His tongue glides across yours as he kisses you with increasing desperation. The need for you grows every second that passes, he has to kiss every inch of you, he has to make you his, he has to make you feel loved; the only thoughts devouring his mind at this very moment consisted of nothing but you and his need to ensure you only ever want him.

The kiss becomes sloppy, both of your lips becoming covered in one another, and you feel yourself craving more. So much more. You bite his bottom lip a little, testing to see if this will make him decide to take initiative, resulting in him gasping softly and releasing a low moan. He liked it. He liked it a lot. He moves his hands back to your waist, pushing you down against his lap and his jaw loosens a bit as he loses his breath, feeling you finally press against his erection. You moan softly, enjoying the feeling of some sort of contact where you desperately needed it the most and it felt so good knowing he wanted you just as much as you wanted him. He couldn’t take it anymore, he had to have you.

One of his hands grips your thigh and his other arm goes back to wrapping around your waist as he picks you up a bit and lays you back against the bed, not once breaking the kiss; at this point, kissing you has become his oxygen supply. Feeling your hands on him is the only thing keeping him alive. His lips part from yours only to kiss along your jaw, just below your ear, and down to your neck. You gasp softly and your eyelids flutter closed as you relish in the feeling of his soft lips kissing your skin. He takes one of his hands and uses it to move some of your hair out of the way, placing it on the back of your head, pulling your hair softly to move your head back so he has more room to work with on your neck. You let out a soft moan, feeling him leave open mouthed kisses on every single inch of your skin, him making sure he doesn’t miss a single spot.

He opens his eyes a bit and looks at you, to see how he’s making you feel. He watches as your lips part slightly as you take in small gasps of air, as if he leaves you utterly breathless; you’ve never looked more beautiful. He watches to see what spot of your neck when he kisses it that you seem to like the most. Once he gets to a certain spot and watches you bite your bottom lip a bit, he smirks slightly against your skin and sucks gently on the area. His tongue laps the spot a bit as he sucks and nibbles on it; this was his spot now. You moan softly and you feel your breath slightly catch in your throat as he leaves a hickey. He leaves a few soft pecks on the spot a little after he’s left his mark and he smiles a bit to himself.

You feel the warmth of his body pull away from yours and your eyes open as you look at him. The moon shined a bit through the window, the light falling beautifully on him as he looked at you with a slightly flushed face. He looked back at you, seeing you laying on this bed, all for him, he felt like he was going crazy. He sits on his knees between your legs as his hands run along your thighs; he just keeps looking at you, admiring all of you. You lay there, looking at him, feeling your body become hot as he looks at you through hooded eyes, as if you leave him in a trance. Your breathing picks up in speed as he runs his hands painfully slow along your thighs and as much as you want to pull him back towards you, you feel as though you’re frozen.

He takes a slow, deep breath, as his left hand travels up to gently take your right hand. He holds it up softly, separating your fingers with his as he loosely holds your hand, his gaze now focusing on your hands. He raises your hand up and leans in, raising it to his mouth. He softly plants his lips on your fingertips, kissing them softly, up to your knuckles, trailing his lips to the back of your hand, then gently turning it to kiss along the palm of your hand. He closes his eyes as he kisses down your arm--slowly--and gently lays your arm back at your side as he kisses up to your shoulder. His hands move to the hem of your short dress, slowly sliding it up, you raising your hips to help him, and he stops, leaving it bunched around your waist as he goes back to kissing along your shoulder. He gently pushes the strap of your dress down your shoulder as he focuses on kissing your body, moving along your collarbone. He breathes deeply, pushing the other strap out of the way as he leaves open mouthed kisses on your left shoulder, down your arm, his hands gently holding it up as he kisses up to your wrist. You watch him, feeling as if your body is constantly shivering, still dressed (albeit, your dress is pushed up), yet feeling completely exposed. His hand envelopes over your left hand as he kisses your palm like he cherishes your entire being, the way he looks is as if he’s wanted to do this his whole life.

He kisses your fingers, knuckles, and fingertips, opening his eyes slowly as he lets go of your arm gently. He moves his hands back to your waist, pulling your dress up more and you sit up, realizing your body is shaking, and he kisses your forehead before pulling your dress off carefully, like he’s afraid if he does it too fast, you’ll break. He lets the dress fall to the ground, the fabric hitting the hard wood floor just as softly as he lets it go. It’s as if the room is silent, no muffled music from downstairs, no rolling of tires from the occasional cars passing on the streets, no soft wind hitting the curtains, nothing except the quiet breaths escaping from his and your lips. He feels his erection become even more painfully hard as he looks at you, and he swallows, honestly trying not to let out a moan just at the sight of you. His breath stifles a little as he places his hand on the small of your back, steadying you as he leans back in, kissing the top of your chest. He feels himself growing more desperate, desperate to feel every inch of your skin on his lips, on his fingertips.

He breathes in sharply as he presses his face more into your chest, his lips sloppily kissing along your chest as his need for you grows. His tongue trails along your skin and he shudders, his hands becoming shaky as he holds your waist, all his focus practically on making out with your chest. A low moan elicits from him and from the way he was kissing your chest with such desperation made you moan softly in response, one of your bra straps falling a little off your shoulder from his movements. It’s as if he senses it and just decides to unclasp your bra, still trying to let it slide off of you slowly and hold himself back, but once he sees you take it off, your bare chest exposed, he feels himself get so close to cumming in his pants. He gently lays you back on the bed, wasting no time, however, to wrap his lips around one of your nipples. Your breath hitches and you moan as he releases his desperation. Kissing, sucking, and fondling your breasts, small whimpers coming from him as he feels elated to finally be doing this. Spit covers your chest almost instantly as he licks and sucks, kneading your breasts, moaning as the soft flesh squeezes and molds beneath his hands. And it’s only until he feels his breathing becoming quick, his dick aching in his pants, is when he stops. He pulls away slightly, his hair slightly covering his eyes as he stares at them, his trembling fingers squeezing and spreading his spit along them, his thumbs pressing and circling your nipples, and you feel as if ripples just went throughout your entire body.

You gently push his hair away from his face and he goes back to kissing along your stomach, down to your panties. You can feel momentarily the thin layer of sweat covering his forehead when you push his hair away, running your fingers through his locks and he whines softly against your skin, his hands gripping your sides and finally moving to the edge of your panties. You wait in anticipation, expecting him to take them off, so you raise your hips slightly, but he pulls away. You pout–only slightly–as you look at him with a confused expression. He smiles sweetly, as if he’s not the one that caused you to quite literally soak through your panties. He’s noticed, god, he’s noticed, but it takes everything in him not to behave like some animal. So, with that, he moves his hands down to your feet, slowly taking off your shoes for you before setting them on the ground. He moves back a little, leaning down to kiss along your leg, stopping at your knee, before moving to do the same thing to the other leg, but this time, he kisses up your thigh, leaving open mouthed kisses on the inner part of your thigh, gently nipping at your skin, and up to your hip. He gazes at you through his eyelashes as he moves to kiss along the other thigh, closing his eyes as he moans deeply against your skin, his tongue running along your skin.

He takes in a shaky, deep breath, and you feel your whole body become stiff once you feel his warm breath scatter so deliciously on your core. He gently places his hand over your sopping panties and your breath hitches, your whole body feeling grateful for some sort of contact. His brows furrowed as he slowly rubs his middle finger along your clothed slit, a low groan escaping his lips as he feels even more of your wetness seep through the fabric as he pushes into it. His mind feels hazy; he has to taste you. He takes his hand away, licking his middle finger and he feels as if his whole body exploded. He moans quietly to himself, before gripping your thighs and sticking his tongue out, licking a slow, long stripe between your clothed folds to your clit. Your eyes roll back as you gasp and moan. His fingers dig into the skin of your thighs as he feels himself lose all sense of sanity. He wanted nothing more than to take his time, but fuck, he can’t do it anymore.

His lips instantly latch around your clothed clit, sucking and lapping his tongue as he starts to subconsciously rut his hips against the mattress. His saliva soaks your panties entirely as he presses his tongue more firmly, causing you to moan louder, gasping, as your hand makes its way to his hair, your fingers tangling in it. He moans and pulls away only a little before diving back in, pushing your panties to the side with his face as he makes out between your folds. His jaw is working overtime, his tongue lapping and picking up as much of you as you can give, His nose bumps against your clit as he loses himself in your taste, eating you out like a madman. He groans and moans into you, his hip movements stuttering as he licks all the way back up to your clit, moving his right hand off of your thigh before pushing his middle and ring finger into you, making sure to rub them between your folds before he does. He sucks and licks your clit, moaning and whimpering as he pushes his fingers in and out of you, not stopping until his knuckles prevent him.

You moan his name, gripping his hair, pushing his face against your clit more as your legs shake and you cum, moaning his name. He whimpers and the way you taste sends him over the edge as he feels himself cum in his pants, his jaw falling slack a bit, and he pulls his fingers out, desperate to lick them clean. You let go of his hair, trying to catch your breath and he sits up, his face slick and covered in you, and he tugs your panties off. You look at him, watching as he undresses himself and you feel your body become light as he reveals more and more of himself to you. His bare chest, his abs, god, his biceps, you were about ready to start touching yourself at the sight, desperate for him, but you managed to stay put.

He feels his ego boost a little bit, watching how you look at him, examining his body as if he is some work of art. He’s going to give you everything he knows you deserve and that thought alone makes him smirk. You notice as he takes off his underwear the wet patch from his prior release, making you grin a bit. He finally lets his cock out, it still being painfully hard despite him having cummed already, and you gaze at it. You feel yourself clench around nothing, wanting him so desperately to fill you up and he sees it. He smiles innocently, as if you both aren’t completely naked and horny before he grabs a cigarette and lights it. He takes a drag as he spreads the precum spilling from his tip all along his length and you watch his every movement, honestly feeling your mouth water at the sight. You sit up and he motions his head to the window as the cigarette sits between his lips.

You turn and face the window, propping your forearms against the windowsill as you look outside, the cool breeze honestly feeling nice against your flushed, hot skin. You feel his presence shift behind you as he takes another drag. He sighs softly, looking at yourself propped like this, he places his free hand on your hip, lining himself up with you. He moves that hand and gently brushes your hair softly to the side, exposing your back entirely, and you turn your head a bit to look back at him. He exhales some smoke and meets your gaze, gently brushing his fingers along your cheek.

“Relax…” he says before leaning to whisper in your ear, “and don’t be afraid to let the neighborhood know my name.” he says before kissing your cheek.

You feel your body shudder at his words and he holds the cigarette between his lips as he uses one hand to hold your hip, the other gripping his cock before he slides it up and down, teasingly, between your folds. You gasp softly and he smirks, pushing his tip against your clit and he hisses a little, more precum leaking from his tip. He guides his cock into you, needing to quickly grab his cigarette from his mouth due to his jaw falling slack as he bottoms out into you. Your fingers grip the edge of the windowsill, your jaw dropping as you feel him finally giving you what you want. You moan and become breathless. He takes another drag from his cigarette before moving his hand from your hip to your shoulder as he pulls his hips away and then thrusts himself back into you entirely.

He filled you up perfectly, and he was damn ready to cum just from the way it felt like you perfectly fit around him. So warm and so fucking wet. He thrusts in and out of you a few times, groaning as you moan, sounds of you coating his cock more and more each time he goes in and out of you. He takes a shaky inhale from his cigarette, his eyes rolling back a bit as he thrusts a bit faster, before taking the cigarette out of his mouth, gripping the back of your head, a handful of your hair between his fingers, as he pulls you up and turns your head towards him. You moan and whine looking at him as he kisses you, shotgunning you this time as he keeps a steady pace of thrusting into you. You felt like you were going to choke, but you inhale what he exhales and as he pulls away, you turn back and lean your forearms against the windowsill as you blow out the smoke, gasping afterwards and moaning his name.

“Good girl,” he groans and puts the cigarette out, putting both of his hands on your hips, thrusting faster. “Such a good girl.”

You moan at his praise and breathe quickly as all you can do is let out strings of long moans as you feel his cock press into you over and over, him somehow hitting every area that makes your knees weak and mind hazy. His fingers dig into your skin as his hips rapidly pound and slap against your ass, the sound of skin slapping becoming louder and louder. You moan his name loudly, and as a reward, he pushes further, you feeling his tip brush against your cervix and you gasp, moaning his name lewdly. He grunts, the way you just moaned his name almost made him cum automatically.

“Louder, sweetheart, come on.”

You gasp for air as he fucks you so goddamn good, and you try to arch your lower back a bit so he can go deeper. You moan his name as many times as he wants, whatever it takes for him to rut in and out of you faster, to which he obliged. His breathing becomes heavy and your legs shake as you throw your head back a bit, your jaw dropping as you let out a long moan, cum spreading all over his cock. He grunts and whimpers, wrapping his arms around your waist as his brows knit together, him leaning down and kissing your shoulder as he pumps you full of cum, a low moan coming from him and onto your shoulder. He moans your name softly as he lets out a few more shallow thrusts, making sure he gives you every last drop. You feel yourself shiver as the warm liquid pushes into you and you whine a little.

After a moment of him holding you close and staying inside of you, he kisses your shoulder softly again before pulling out and pulling away. He lays back onto the bed and you shudder as you feel his and your cum spilling out of you and trailing slowly down your inner thigh. He opens his arms a bit and you go to him, letting out a sigh as you rest your head on his chest and feeling content when his arms wrap around you. His hand slowly moves up and down your back before he kisses the top of your head. It’s silent for a while as you both lay there.

“So…we’re a thing now?” you ask, partly joking, but part of you was seriously asking.

He looks down at you and scoffs playfully. “After all of this, you still don’t get it?” he chuckles softly. “I want nobody but you.”

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cheriladycl01 · 4 months ago

Note

Hiiii could you write about Carlos Sainz that he has a secret relationship with an Arab Muslim girl (she doesn't wear hijab) 24 years old, Y/N and Carlos' little sister her friend because they go to the same university from Madrid and Carlos always bothered her, he was always around Y/N whenever she was talking with a boy Carlos made them run away and that's how they became a couple but secretly it was due to Y/N's religion and Carlos likes to annoy her by teasing her face to face or sharing a message by pinching her side because she is ticklish and she also annoys him.

Thanks youu 💖

Romeo to my Juliet - Carlos x Reader

Plot: After studying at the University of Madrid, and making friends with Blanca Sainz you were constantly around her older brother Carlos who was … obviously obsessed with you!

A/N: Ive done research before writing this on Muslim culture and struggles, however I am not a person of colour, and do not want to cause any offence when writing this! Also the wording of this request did confuse me a little bit so I’m hoping I’ve got everything that you’ve wanted in here!

Carlos and you were two people you wouldn’t pin together. You were quiet and reserved whilst he was loud and expressive. You were shy, whilst he was confident. But it was those differences that actually made you the perfect pair.

Being in a secret relationship with the Carlos Sainz wasn’t easy, and neither is the story that came with it.

It started when you first applied to university. You got into the University of Madrid and your parents couldn’t be more happy as your father had work in Spain taken from the Middle East, so it wasn’t a difficult family move.

You were a very stylish girl despite being shy and with your outfits it wasn’t hard to catch the eyes on campus. And that was how you met Blanca Sainz.

It was a colder day in Madrid, around November and you were in one of your favourite winter time outfits that’s kept you warm and cozy, still not completely used to the cold winters Europe have compared to the Middle East.

You had this Burberry scarf on, a gift from you father and a gust of win caught you, immediately your hands grabbed for your skirt leaving your scarf to fly off from around your neck.

“Oh my gosh” you gasp as you tried to reach out for it but it just flew off into the distance. You started to run after it, until you saw it hit a girl and practically strangle her.

“I’m so so so sorry! The wind … and it just … and oh my gosh I’m so sorry, it hit you!” You gasp at the girl who looks over you before laughing.

“It’s … a scarf I’m fine” she giggled.

That day you guys got coffee on campus before getting to know each other and you’d been fast friends since.

It wasn’t until the end of your second year in university, your mum and dad had moved back home to the Middle East. And you didn’t know what to do about summer break.

Blanca actually invited you to her family trip to Mallorca and to stay with her in her family home.

You felt bad, so you suggest the first few weeks are spent in your family home in Dubai. And she definitely didn’t want to turn that down.

So of course you guys spent the summer, tanning, in your pool playing games with your mum and dad when they were free and going to get ice cream.

“Your house is insane, what the hell does your mum and dad do!” She asked looking around the 6 bedroom Villa your family owned.

“I don’t actually know, but he’s a business owner of some sort” you giggle, always too bored to listen to your father explain his career.

“There’s an aquarium in your kitchen island …” she points at it, mouth open wide.

“Yeah, excessive i know but my dad adores his fish”

“And your house it on the beach! AND there’s a pool? I don’t even know if I want to see the garage!” She exclaims.

“Mmmmmm yeah my dads also a car collector. He actually left some in Spain in the house there” you offer.

“Your like so humble though! I - WHAT?” She asks in shock and you just laugh her off.

You guys definitely enjoyed your time in Dubai and your parents loved her, she was invited back for the Christmas holidays too.

Then when you got to Spain you met the rest of her family.

“Mum dad, this is my friend Y/N” Blanca offers as you enter the home which was a beautiful Spanish Villa.

“Ah Y/N we’ve heard so much about you from Blanca when she calls” her mother smiles. Ana comes running down the stairs immediately pulling her sister into a hug.

“Ah you must be Y/N? Yes, you are gorgeous! Where are you from!” She grins pulling you into an unexpected hug.

“I’m from Dubai!” You smile and that night guy guys all get to know one another through board games.

It got to just after sunset when you realised that it was time to pray for Maghrib. You calmly excused yourself from the family. Blanca at this point knew when you had to pray and was always very respectful and actually intrigued at the way it all worked. She would be with you on campus in the pray room, or in a random corner of a cafe you guys were studying in and offer you her coat to kneel on if you didn’t have one.

She was the sweetest and most understanding friend you’d ever had.

However, this was the time you met her older brother Carlos. You were just finishing up, in Blancas bedroom when someone came into the room.

“Sorry Blanca, I didn’t mean to be long if I was!” You smile turning round only to see a confused man behind you.

“Erm sorry can I help you?” You ask and he still stands there with his big brown chocolate eyes just staring at you.

“A-sorry you must be, Y/N right? Blanca’s friend that she brought home?” He questions and you nod standing up, reaching out to shake his hand.

He looks down at it smirking before lifting it up and placing a gentle kiss on the edge making you gasp and go wide eyed.

“Well, welcome to the Sainz household. Are you excited about Mallorca?” He smiles and you nod, of course you were, you’d be waiting all summer for it.

And it was an unforgettable summer.

Carlos was ALWAYS around. He was like this little lost puppy and the only time you don’t think he was around was when you showered or slept. He bothered you the whole summer, interrupting you and Blanca when you were trying to tan, or would splash you in the pool when you were lounging on a lilo. He was a menace, but there was a certain type of endearment to it.

He was also insanely protective over you. Whenever you all would go out to bars or restaurants or clubs, you got a lot of male attention, which to Carlos wasn’t surprising.

You were the most beautiful person he thinks he’s ever seen, and he wants you all for himself.

“Hey Bonita, why don’t you come downtown with me, and I’ll show you a good time?” A random guy from the island had said to you in a club.

“I’m fine thank you, I’m here with friends” you smile pointing behind you to the table where Carlos Blanca and Ana are sat.

“I’m sure they won’t mind, come on. ¡Vive un poco!” He exclaims looking over you.

“She said she was fine, and I would mind” Carlos said in a gruff voice coming to stand behind you and hand on your shoulder.

The guy swiftly left, seeing who it was. You’d gotten used to the fact that Carlos would be noticed in public, you tried to stay out of it as much as possible. Whenever a fan came over you’d practically glue yourself to Blanca’s side.

But all the guys that came talking to you Carlos had them running away for one reason or another. Whether it was just him, being Carlos Sainz, or the look he gave them or what he whispered to them when you couldn’t here. They always left.

That was how Carlos and you ended up together. You were a modern day Romeo and Juliet. You knew your parents wouldn’t approve of the Spanish race car driver, just based on all the tabloid articles about him.

“We should leave” he said in a huff, he was always like this and a lot of the times that you left was because of Carlos’ changed mood.

“But we didn’t get here long ago!” You offer and he huffs again, getting more frustrated.

“Just, let’s just go home!” He says again, not touching you but giving you a look as if to say, I will drag you out of here.

“We need to get Blanca and Ana, we can’t leave them!” You say as you start to look around the club for the two girls, hoping they would protest to Carlos wanting to get you to leave.

“They’ll be fine, let’s just go. They are pretty preoccupied anyway” he nods towards them with their boyfriends and how they are dancing.

Next thing you know Carlos was dragging you home, poking at your side saying how you broke your good girl demeanour just to leave the club with him.

“I was in a club, I can’t be that good of a girl” you tease him back and he looks over at you with a sparkle in his eyes. Maybe it wasn’t even there and it was just from the street lights, but he looked so happy and content in this moment that you couldn’t help but stare.

After this summer, you and Carlos hide your relationship from everyone, you hated hiding it from Blanca the most as he would often come find you in Madrid after race weekends to keep you company.

And don’t even start about him at family venues. Despite Carlos wanting to keep the relationship as secret as you did because of the media, and your parents, he wasn’t very good at keeping his gestures subtle.

“Carlos, I haven’t seen you for a while. And whose this, a girlfriend?” One of his aunts comes over seeing you together chatting at a family reunion his mother had hosted after his race win.

He pinched your side teasingly as if to say that you guys must look good together. And as you look up at his face you can see that.

“No this is Y/N Blanca’s friend from university” he offers keeping up with the secret. And your look down smiling to yourself. It was fun in a way keeping up a little white lie that you were with Carlos.

“Shame, she’s a dime and you two would look great together” she winks before fluttering off elsewhere in the house.

“See someone else who thinks we look great together” Carlos says leaning down to meet your eye level making you blush.

“Carlos leave Y/N alone, you tease the poor girl enough you’ll give her a heart attack one day. Come on sweetie” his mother guides you away, you turn round to catch Carlos’ eye before poking your tongue out in a childish manner.

He shakes his head with a slight chuckles as he watches his mum pull you away to a different crowd of people and introduces you.

When you and Carlos would admit your relationship was unknown, but you knew you’d never been happier than you were with Carlos Sainz Jr.

Taglist:

@littlesatanicassholebitch @hockey-racing-fubol @laura-naruto-fan1998 @22yuki @simxican @sinofwriting @lewisroscoelove @cmleitora @daemyratwst @lauralarsen @the-untamed-soul @thewulf @itsjustkhaos @purplephantomwolf @chasing-liberosis @summissss @gulphulp @starfusionsworld @jspitwall @sierruhhhh @georgeparisole @youcannotcancelquidditch @tallbrownhairsarcastic @ourteenagetragedy @peachiicherries @formulas-bitch @cherry-piee @spilled-coffee-cup @mehrmonga @blueberry64857959 @eiraethh @curseofhecate @alliwantisadonut @dark-night-sky-99 @i-wish-this-was-me @tallrock35 @butterfly-lover @barnestatic @landossainz @darleneslane @barcelonaloverf1life @r0nnsblog @ilove-tswizzle @laneyspaulding19 @malynn @viennakarma @landosgirlxoxo @marie0v @yourbane @teamnovalak @nikfigueiredo @fionaschicken @0picels0 @tinydeskwriter @ironmaiden1313 @splaterparty0-0 @formula1mount

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evansbby · 3 months ago

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an update from me :)

hey everyone, i know i haven’t been very active on here lately. and the reason is because a lot of things in my life have changed. i’ve been debating even sharing this but i feel like i’m in a good enough position to be okay with sharing it.

so these past two years, i had been super active on here (late 2022- early 24) and that was because, well, I didn’t really have anything else. that’s because I had graduated in 2022 and then i just couldn’t find a job in my field. like so many other recent graduates, it was just so hard and tough and it really made me lose all faith in myself.

i found myself to be in the worst mental state i had ever been. I cut myself off from my friends, felt like a burden towards my family, was having meltdowns and panic attacks almost daily, even started eating unhealthily and was just overall in a very bad place.

HOWEVER, i always felt like I could come on tumblr and that’s why i was so active and writing all these stories because honestly, they were almost like a crutch to me. like the ONE thing i had to look forward to in life during those times was the feedback I’d get when i posted a fic, and honestly it’s what kept me going. like i swear to god, on some days this blog and community was the only thing that i had to look forward to and keep me going, and writing felt like such a huge escape.

because i felt so USELESS. like i was wasting my life and not making any money or being able to kickstart my career after uni, and that it would be like this forever, so when I was writing it actually felt like I was doing something with a purpose. honestly on some days I would literally wake up early and go sit in Starbucks all day just writing my fics like i was cosplaying working or something just so I’d have a purpose. (I don’t go to Starbucks anymore lol boycott)

anyways, i never shared this on tumblr these past few years bc you guys don’t understand what a failure i felt like. i would sometimes get asks on here asking what i did for a job and I’d feel so embarrassed of my current state of being unable to find a job when it felt like everyone else who had graduated with me had one and obtained one so easily. like i felt ASHAMED.

i remember once i got an ask asking what my job was and I just said “fashion marketing” bc that was one of the things i wanted to do and id done an internship in that field so i just put that but it was a LIE i was unemployed and the most depressed ive been in my whole life but I thought maybe i could manifest it.

ANYWAYS, and you’ve probably already guessed it, but the reason I’m not so active anymore is because I did eventually find a job. a really good one that I’m enjoying so much and I’m so happy at. Finally, I’m feeling like myself again, like I’m living that life in London as a twenty something that I’d see everyone on tiktok living!! Like I’m finally just having fun, going out with friends, being active, having money to spend on fun things etc.

and it feels so surreal and crazy because when i was depressed and jobless, it made me doubt myself so much. Like the constant rejections and failed interviews made me doubt myself and lowered my self esteem so much and I thought I’d NEVER achieve this life that i have now! And I don’t want to jinx it but I literally thank God every day for finally granting me this because I really feel like I would’ve gotten worse and worse and IDEK.

But back to the main point, and so because of my new job I just don’t have that much time for tumblr anymore. But this isn’t a goodbye post… not at all! I find that when I’m super busy in life is also when I get the most motivated to write! Like for example in summer 2022 I was on here so much and that was the summer I had the most fun, was the most busy. I think when I’m busy in life, I get motivated to write.

Which I believe is the case right now, because I’m SO motivated to complete all my stories, I keep thinking about them and writing them slowly, so please don’t think anything is abandoned! I just wanted to make this post to be more transparent about what’s been going on in my life and what had been going on these past two years. That maybe someone else going through something similar can see that eventually, everything does work out.

Anddd I don’t really know how to end this. I just want to say, yall don’t understand just how thankful I am for having this blog, this platform, to write my stories. For having you guys. Because who knows how much worse my mental state would’ve been these past two years when I didn’t have ANYTHING else going for me, if I hadn’t had this blog it would’ve been so much worse.

Thank you so much for believing in me and enjoying my stories and always always letting me know how much you enjoy them. And I’ll say the truth; I know everyone says that engagement on tumblr has been bad lately but I can say that bc of you guys I have literally never EVER had this issue. And that’s not me being big headed, that’s just the truth and it makes me so happy and grateful. Yall always came through for me and still do now! Every time I think my fic is going to flop, you guys come through for me. I appreciate it so much. You guys have no idea how much you helped me when I was at my lowest. And continue to.

Many thanks

Me 🩷🩷🫶🏼🫶🏼

#my thoughts 💭#reallt felt vulnerable putting this out there

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ginnsbaker · 5 months ago

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fic: if i bleed (you'll be the last to know) (17/17)

Part Summary: “I firmly believe that when you do the right thing, everything will eventually fall into place. It might not turn out exactly as you hoped, but you’ll find a sense of understanding and peace with your decision.”

Pairing: Leigh Shaw x Fem!Reader | Word count for this part: 7.600+ | Tags/Warnings: angst, fluff, mentions of smut Author's note: Wow! Those five months went by so fast. Thank you so much for being with me on this journey. It's been my honor and pleasure sharing with you this story :)

“Tell me that your love is a sure thing” - Golden Vessel, Emerson Leif (“Hesitate”)

“Do you think I should ask Y/N to come with me?” Leigh asks, idly twisting a gold bauble between her fingers. She stares at it a beat too long, like she might find the answer in the curve of its shiny surface.

It's three days before Christmas, and true to Shaw family tradition, they're just now getting around to setting up the decorations. It wouldn't have happened at all if Amy hadn't taken the initiative to remind them. She was supposed to help, but she's vanished again to meet another “friend.” Leigh and Jules are suspicious, thinking their mom might be seeing someone in secret.

Jules, teetering slightly on the ladder, twists around to give Leigh a raised eyebrow. “To the Harrison’s bash for New Year’s? Hell yeah, why not? She’s a blast. Could shake things up a bit.”

“No, not that,” Leigh exhales, now regretting even bringing it up. “I mean the comic book tour for Matt.”

Jules steps down, one rung at a time, until she’s down to Leigh’s level. “Oh. That’s…quite a step. But, why not? Sounds like an adventure for you both,” she says.

Logan zips by, a sheeny red bauble in his mouth, set on a mission to place it next to his bowl in the kitchen. He keeps fetching or chasing after the scattered Christmas balls, sending them rolling all over the house. Leigh and Jules have been running around, picking them up and putting them back on the tree.

“It’s not just that,” Leigh says, glancing out the window where the first hints of evening are brushing the sky. “Asking her to come means asking her to leave everything here behind. Her life, her responsibilities. It’s different for her—she has a real career.”

“Hold up—what we do is a real career too. We’re improving lives with healthy habits, remember?”

Leigh laughs sardonically. “Come on, Jules, we're kinda just floating, working for Mom. Y/N is a doctor, owns her clinic, has staff. That’s...”

“That’s a big deal,” Jules agrees with a solemn nod. “It’s a huge ask, for sure.”

Silence hangs for a beat, the only sounds being Logan’s light panting as he settles down, ornament forgotten.

“Do you think she'd actually say no?” Jules suddenly pipes up, climbing back up the ladder to resume her decorating. Leigh spots a stray ornament a few feet away, points at it, and calls out, “Fetch!”

Logan springs into action, scampering to retrieve it. As he returns, triumphant, Leigh gives him a pat on the head and passes the ornament up to Jules.

“Actually, it’s quite the opposite. She’d jump at the chance,” she tells Jules.

“So, what’s stopping you?”

“She might regret it later,” Leigh says quietly. “And that could mean losing her.”

Jules frowns, understanding the bind her sister is in. She stretches out a hand, and Leigh takes it, their palms pressing cold and warm together. “I’m sorry.”

“And if I leave her here, I might lose her anyway,” Leigh adds, the heaviness of two futures making her shoulders sag.

Jules gives her hand a firm squeeze. “But what if you both end up regretting not taking the chance? It’s only a few months. Maybe Y/N can sort something out with her clinic?”

“It’s still too risky for her business. She’s poured everything into that place, Jules. Asking her to step away, even briefly—it’s…it’s selfish.”

“Life’s full of risky asks, Leigh. Sometimes, you gotta bet on what’s scary. Risk a little heartbreak on the chance it’ll bring you both something remarkable. Maybe this is one of those times?”

Leigh releases her hand and moves to another bare section of the tree. “Is that the kind of thinking that made you decide to look for your biological parents in Vietnam?”

Jules snaps the tinsel down, her response coming quick and a bit sharp. “Yes.”

Leigh winces slightly, realizing her question might have prodded an unintended sore spot. “I didn’t mean—”

“I get it,” Jules interjects, sighing as she tries to bring the conversation to a close. They’re both dealing with their own issues, and as much as she loves Leigh, she knows she’s not in the right headspace to offer solid advice—especially advice she’s not even sure works.

Leigh clamps her mouth shut. She doesn’t want this to turn into an argument either.

“Maybe just talk to her? See what she thinks? Who knows, maybe the biggest leaps make the most sense when you’re doing them for the right reasons... for the right person,” Jules says after some time.

“You really think so?” Leigh asks, her voice threaded with hope.

“I do,” Jules nods, her hands busy rewrapping the tinsel Logan has graciously returned. “Just talk to her. It’s either a ‘what if’ or a ‘what now.’ Better to find out which.”

Leigh comes with her mouth open, but no sound escapes. Her body trembles as she experiences what she knows is the best orgasm she's ever had—though she remembers saying the same thing about this morning’s quickie in your bathroom. It just seems to keep getting better each time.

You slowly climb up from her pussy, trailing soft kisses along her stomach. As you move upward, you let your tongue lightly trace a stripe across one of her nipples, eliciting a shiver from Leigh. She’s still catching her breath, but when you finally reach her lips, she pulls you in for a deep, consuming kiss. The way her tongue wrestles with yours tells you she’s already eager for more, her hands tangling in your hair as she holds you close.

You break the kiss, smiling down at her. “Hi,” you murmur, almost shyly.

Leigh, still a little dazed, brushes the strands of hair off your forehead and gently traces your lower lip with her thumb. “You know something?” she asks, her eyes wandering over the marks and lines on your face.

“Hm?”

She kisses the corner of your mouth. “You're kind of amazing,” she says softly.

“That good, huh?” you tease, a playful smile tugging at your lips.

Her hand, which has been cupping your face, slides down your neck before she pulls it back to herself, biting at her index fingernail.

“I’m sure you can tell,” she whispers, her voice low and sultry. To emphasize her point, she arches her hips, the slickness between her thighs evident against your skin.

“You’re going to have to give me a minute,” you sigh, letting your head fall to her sweaty chest. “You’ve completely worn me out.”

Leigh laughs, a soft, melodic sound. “Really? Getting tired already? What happened to your stamina?”

You don’t bother to retort, content just to lie there listening to the rhythm of her heart. “It’s hard work keeping you satisfied,” you say after some time, your voice muffled against her skin.

She tightens her hold around you, the gentle stroke of her fingers in your hair making every thought slow down. The security of her embrace makes everything seem right in the world, and it emboldens you to voice a thought that's been on your mind more and more lately.

“You know,” you start, lifting your head to catch her eyes, “I was thinking… maybe you should move in with me.”

Leigh stiffens just a bit, her eyes darting away for a moment, and you instantly regret how fast you’ve blurted it out. You sit up, trying to backpedal, “Only if you want to, I mean... it was just a thought. You're here most nights anyway, and your toothbrush is already—”

Before you can ramble on, Leigh leans in and silences you with a gentle kiss. “Slow down,” she whispers against your lips, her smile reassuring.

You chuckle, giving her a sheepish, lopsided smile. “Right, right,” you agree, settling back down beside her.

Leigh shifts to lie on her side, propping herself up on one elbow. Her eyes, still dark with want, sweep over your body—flushed, soft, and still quivering slightly from your efforts to pleasure her. She catches herself, though, and with a more composed motion, she pulls the blanket up to cover you, tucking it around your chest.

You look up at her, your expression ironically innocent, waiting for her to say what's on her mind.

“I’d love to,” Leigh finally says. “But do you really think it’s the right move?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, we’ve just started exploring what this is, what we could be, and I’m already planning to leave. It feels like I’m setting us up for...” Leigh doesn’t finish the sentence, but she doesn’t have to.

Matt's book tour looms over both of you, an ever-present shadow no matter how tightly you try to cling to each other. It's as if you believe that by melding into one with Leigh, you could somehow will her impending departure into nonexistence.

Though before you can say anything, your phone rings from the coffee table beside you. You reach over and grab it, your mom's name flashing urgently on the screen. A quick glance at the time sends a jolt through you—you were to pick her up at the airport but completely lost track of time.

Leigh sits up too, clutching the sheet to her naked torso. “What is it?”

You wince, the irony of the situation not lost on you. “It's my mom,” you explain hurriedly. “I should have left, like, half an hour ago to pick her up at the airport. She’s staying with me for a few days until right before New Year’s.”

A moment ago, you were discussing moving in together, and now you find yourself needing to ask her to leave.

Leigh raises an eyebrow, smiling coyly as she realizes the implications of your mother’s arrival. “And let me guess, she's staying here? In your one-bedroom palace?”

“Yeah,” you say, scrambling to get dressed. “Which means I need to air out the place, change the sheets... make it look like I live like a monk.” You stop for a second, looking at Leigh with an apologetic frown on your face. “And I kind of need to ask you to leave now. Please don’t be mad.”

“Mad?” Leigh laughs as she swings her legs out of bed and starts gathering her clothes. Once she's collected them all, she steps closer, gives you a quick kiss, and murmurs right next to your ear, “I’m furious.”

You kiss her hair gently before stepping in front of the mirror to check your appearance, making sure you don't look as disheveled as you feel.

“Gives us both some time to think about everything. The tour, us moving in, all of it,” Leigh says, slipping into her jeans.

“Absolutely,” you agree, watching her.

“Change those sheets well, huh?” she teases, zipping up her bag. “You know how moms can be.”

You grimace jokingly at her comment. “Please, don't ever use 'sheets' and 'mom' in the same sentence ever again.”

Leigh laughs again, clearly enjoying you squirm. She slings her bag over her shoulder, waiting for you to finish getting ready.

As you cap your lip gloss, an idea suddenly strikes you. Seeing Leigh's expectant look reflected in the mirror, you ask, “Hey, how about you join me to pick her up at the airport?”

Meeting your mom seems like another huge step in your relationship, but she doesn't hesitate.

“Is it okay with your mom?” she asks, a bit wary.

You shrug, taking her hand confidently. “Why wouldn't it be?”

Apparently, you’re the spitting image of your mother.

At least, that’s how Leigh sees it as she watches you both hug it out in the arrival section of LAX. As a fitness pundit, Leigh immediately notices your mom's excellent posture, despite her petite frame. It's the first thing she observes in anyone, and your mom is no exception. Beyond that, you both share the same quick smile and the way your eyes light up in laughter—deep brown, the color of rich coffee, which Leigh finds particularly striking. Even the gestures are mirrored; the way you both tuck hair behind your ear when nervous, or the confidence in your strides.

What distinctly sets her apart from you, though, is how intimidating your mom appears to be.

As you walk to the parking lot, holding your mom’s hand in one of yours and Leigh’s in the other, your mom chats animatedly about a hot spring resort she discovered near your hometown. Leigh keeps half a step behind, doing her best to stay engaged while keeping up with your pace.

“So, how was your flight?” Leigh asks, finding a moment to wedge herself into the conversation.

Your mom barely glances back, responding briefly before turning her attention back to you. “Long, but it’s always nice to spend Christmas with my daughter,” she says, squeezing your hand affectionately.

Leigh tries again. “It's pretty nice weather here, isn't it? I bet it's a lot colder on the East Coast right now.”

“Oh, it’s freezing out there, Leigh,” you chime in, completely oblivious to the awkward interaction between your mom and your girlfriend.

Your mom nods but doesn't elaborate, her focus still on you. “We should stop by that bakery you always gush about,” she says, eyes bright with excitement.

Leigh's grip on your hand tightens slightly, and she lags further behind. “Oh, that store closes at five. It’s seven already,” you say.

Desperate to connect, Leigh tries for the final time. “There are special light installations in the park for the holidays. Would you like to go see them?”

Your mom finally looks back, but her smile is thin. “I’m not much into these ‘light installations’. Too much walking.” She quickly shifts back to you. “How’s work been?”

“Work’s been busy, but manageable,” you say, glancing back at Leigh, who offers a small, strained smile.

The three of you continue to the parking lot, the conversation feeling increasingly one-sided. As you reach the car, you open the trunk and help with the bags, all the while trying to think of a way to include Leigh more naturally.

“Leigh and I were thinking of checking out that new restaurant downtown,” you say, making an effort to draw your mom's attention to her.

“Sounds nice,” your mom replies. “But actually, I'm not hungry—just a bit tired.”

Leigh’s expression falls just a bit, but she quickly masks it, helping with the last of the luggage. She figures that’s her cue to leave.

You can’t hide your frustration. Your plan was to have a nice dinner, a proper introduction. “Are you sure, Mom? It doesn’t have to be a long meal,” you push back gently.

“Let’s just get your mom home, she’s had a long day,” Leigh tells you softly.

You glance at your mom, silently pleading for her to reconsider, but she only smiles. “Maybe another time, dear.”

Reluctantly, you agree.

You lead your mom into the living room, urging her to make herself comfortable while you hurry to get the bedroom ready. The sheets need changing, the windows thrown open to freshen the air, and the whole space needs a bit of tidying.

“I’ll be right back,” you mumble, disappearing into the bedroom.

In the bedroom, you work quickly, stripping the used sheets and flinging the windows wide. You hustle, smoothing on fresh sheets, fluffing pillows, and straightening up—getting rid of all the evidence of what you and Leigh had been doing all week.

Meanwhile, your mom isn't one to just sit around. She takes in the scattered magazines, the couch cushions askew, and the dishes piled up in the kitchen. With a small sigh, she gets up and starts putting things in order. She straightens up the living room and moves on to tackle the kitchen. Before long, the sound of running water and clinking dishes fills your tiny apartment.

When she’s done setting things in order, she starts rummaging through your fridge and pantry. With only a few ingredients at hand, she decides to make do with what you have. Soon, she's boiling spaghetti and slicing hotdogs to toss into the mix. This dish was a childhood favorite of yours and remains a go-to comfort food. As soon as the familiar aroma wafts through the air, you find yourself irresistibly drawn toward the kitchen.

“Is that...?” you start, a delighted smile spreading across your face at the sight of the generous layer of shredded cheese melting over the thick red sauce.

“Sit down and eat while it's hot,” your mom commands with a warm smile.

You don’t need to be told twice. Fork in hand, you dive into the spaghetti as though you haven't eaten in days. Considering your usual diet of takeout and quick fixes, that's not too far from the truth. You chat about small, inconsequential things—the new coffee shop you tried last week, the remarkable cases you’ve encountered in the clinic this month, the shows you’ve been watching on Netflix.

Finishing your meal, you lean back with a satisfied sigh, feeling truly content for the first time in a long while.

“Mom?”

“Yes, dear?”

“So... what do you think of Leigh?”

“So that’s Leigh, huh?” Your mom pauses, setting down her cup of tea with deliberate care. “The widow of the guy you unknowingly dated for a while, not realizing he was married?”

“Yeah, that’s her,” you confirm, nodding slowly as your nerves start to build. The last time you brought up Leigh to your mom, you were almost ready to throw in the towel until she urged you to give it another shot. Now, more than anything, you're hoping she'll give her approval.

She nods thoughtfully, then with a sly grin, says, “Well, she's definitely out of your league.”

“Mom!” you exclaim, embarrassed.

She chuckles, clearly pleased with her little joke.

“Come on, be serious,” you plead.

Your mom clasps her hands on the table, and gives you that look—the one that means business. You can't help but roll your eyes at her theatrics, clearly aimed at getting a rise out of you.

“Leigh seems lovely,” she says. You can tell she’s sincere and that makes you sigh in relief. “And I really appreciate how she tried to engage with me earlier.”

You relax slightly, but then, as you replay the earlier interactions in your mind, you realize Leigh seemed frustrated and your mom wasn’t as welcoming as she usually is. Your face scrunches up as this sinks in.

“Wait, you were really standoffish to Leigh earlier!”

She holds up her hands in a half-shrug, her smirk fading into a more thoughtful expression. “Oh, honey, I didn’t mean to come off that way at all,” she says. “I guess I was just being overprotective. You know, considering how everything started between you two.”

You appreciate her motherly instincts but wish she'd given Leigh a fairer chance from the start. “I get it, Mom. But Leigh is really important to me now. It would mean a lot if you could try to get to know her better. For me?”

“Of course, sweetie,” she says. “What do you need?”

“Well, for starters…” you start, pausing as you try to find the right way to explain. You're about to share that you'll be spending Christmas dinner with the Shaws this year. It's always been just the two of you for the holidays, so you're not sure how she'll take the news of including others she hardly knows. “You’ll have an opportunity to bond with her the day after tomorrow.”

“What’s on Tuesday?”

“Christmas Eve dinner,” you reply. “At the Shaws.”

“Dinner at your girlfriend’s?” she clarifies.

You nod, your lip catching between your teeth. It still feels a little surreal—exciting, actually—being able to call Leigh your girlfriend. “Yeah, Mom. I thought it’d be nice for us to join them this year.”

Instead of giving an outright yes, she asks, “What should I bring? I want to make a good impression.”

You stand up and walk around the table to give her a hug. She wraps her arms around you and plants a kiss on your forehead. “Thank you,” you mutter into her shoulder. “Maybe bring your blueberry pie? Everyone loves that.”

“You love it,” she says cheerily. “Consider it done.”

Slipping back into old habits, you start clearing the dinner dishes, just like you used to when you lived with her. As you stack dishes and run water in the sink, your mom begins unpacking her bags in your bedroom. As you scrub the dishes, thoughts of following Leigh and leaving everything here behind start to overwhelm you. Once the kitchen is spotless and the last dish is put away, you realize you can't keep these feelings bottled up any longer.

You call out to your mother as you dry your hands on a kitchen towel. A few seconds later, she reappears in the living room, her face expectant.

“Hey, uhm,” you say, not knowing how to start. “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something.”

“Go on,” she urges gently.

You take a deep breath before continuing, “Matt’s comic book is getting published posthumously. The publishing company wants Leigh to join a tour to promote the book, and I'm… I’m thinking of joining her.”

Your mom's expression becomes inscrutable as she processes the information. She walks to the couch and takes a seat. After a long pause, she asks, “What will happen to your clinic here?”

You look down, fidgeting with the towel in your hands, and then meet her gaze. “I’ve thought about that,” you say. “I’d need to find someone to cover for me. It wouldn’t be easy, but... I feel like I need to be there for Leigh. This is important to her, and… she’s everything to me.”

You try to read her reaction, but every line on her face remains perfectly still and composed. “Is it because you want to be there for her,” she says slowly, “or because you're afraid that if she leaves, you might lose her?”

Your eyes drop to the floor, and that's answer enough for your mother.

“Come here,” she says, patting the empty spot on the couch next to her. Wordlessly, you oblige.

“It's okay to be scared,” she whispers. “Loving someone means taking risks. Just remember, you need to be true to yourself as well. Leigh is important, but so are you.”

“I just don’t want to regret not giving my all to see this through with her,” you say.

“You love her,” she states, not as a question, but as a fact.

“I really do,” you say quietly.

“I firmly believe that when you do the right thing, everything will eventually fall into place. It might not turn out exactly as you hoped, but you’ll find a sense of understanding and peace with your decision.”

Your mom's words stay with you throughout the night. As you lie in bed, you can hear her soft breathing, her back turned to you.

You’ll find a sense of understanding and peace with your decision.

Your phone vibrates gently beneath your pillow, and you smile when you see a message from Leigh.

Leigh [10:45 PM]: Can’t sleep. I miss you.

You [10:45 PM]: Miss you too.

She doesn't reply, but she fills your head well into the night. The future is uncertain, but one thing feels right: going with Leigh on her tour is the decision that brings you peace.

Christmas Eve dinner arrives sooner than you expected.

Pulling up to the Shaws' house, you're amazed by the decorations that the siblings have tirelessly worked on for the past two days. The house is transformed into a festive wonderland, with twinkling lights draped over every surface, garlands of holly framing the windows, and a towering Christmas tree visible through the living room window, adorned with shimmering ornaments and tinsel.

You watch your mom's reaction as you both step out of the car, seeing the lights reflected in her awe-filled eyes. You beam at her, proud of your girlfriend's decorating skills and holiday spirit.

You and your mom walk up to the doorstep. She clutches her much-loved blueberry pie, which you’re looking forward to having a hearty slice of tonight, while you carefully hold Leigh's gift—a Lego typewriter modeled after a vintage 1950s design. You feel a twinge of nervousness about how she’ll receive your gift.

Moments later, the door swings open to reveal Leigh, all dressed up, and for a moment, you're speechless. Leigh has always been beautiful. No matter what she wears—be it casual joggers, sleek dresses, or even just her underwear—she never fails to leave an impression. Tonight is no different; she takes your breath away all over again.

“Merry Christmas!” Leigh greets brightly. “Almost, anyway,” she adds with a nervous laugh.

“Your decorations are incredible,” your mom says, smiling at her.

“Oh, thank you!” Leigh replies, her cheeks flushing at the unexpected compliment.

“Where should I put this?” your mom asks, holding up her pie.

“You didn’t have to, but wow, that looks amazing! Come on in, I'll show you,” Leigh says, stepping aside to let you both in. She leads you to the kitchen, where the smells of holiday cooking are even stronger. “You can set it right here,” she points to a spot on the counter already laden with various dishes and desserts.

Just as your mom sets the pie on the counter, Amy walks in. Leigh introduces her mom, and the two women share friendly greetings before Amy’s attention quickly turns to the blueberry pie. They dive into a lively discussion about cooking, swapping recipes as if they’ve known each other for years.

Leigh turns to you, her eyes shining. “I'm so glad you’re here now,” she says softly, her fingers lightly brushing against yours. Craving more contact, you gently grasp her hand and guide her to the backyard where Logan is nonchalantly marking a geranium. With no one around now, you draw Leigh close and kiss her deeply. Leigh responds just as fervently, her hand coming to rest on your waist and then squeezing, making you moan into her mouth. She takes advantage of the moment, slipping her tongue in. Her other hand finds its way to your neck, pulling you even closer. You can feel her heartbeat against your chest, matching the rhythm of your own.

When you finally pull back, breathless, you rest your forehead against hers. Leigh's eyes are half-lidded, her lips slightly swollen, tempting you to lean in once more. Just as you're about to, she finally takes notice of the enormous box under your arm.

“Is that for me?”

“Yes,” you say, handing it to her. “I hope you like it.”

Leigh's eyes widen as she takes her gift, her excitement further lighting up her soulful green eyes.

“I've got something for you too,” she says, giving the box a little shake. “It's upstairs in my bedroom. Want to get it now?”

You shake your head, matching her giddy smile. “Maybe later. If you take me to your bedroom now, I can't promise we'll be back in time for dinner,” you say.

Leigh chuckles. Honestly, she feels the same way. “Well then, can I open this now?” she asks.

“Absolutely! Go ahead. I really hope you like it.”

Leigh quickly starts unwrapping your gift, her fingers deftly tearing through the wrapping paper. As the paper falls away, her eyes widen in pleasant surprise at the sight of the Lego typewriter.

“Oh my gosh, it's perfect! Thank you so much!” She carefully places it on the ground before wrapping you in a tight embrace.

“You're welcome,” you whisper, circling your arms around her waist and pulling her close.

When she pulls back, her eyes are brimming with happiness and something deeper—pure, unfiltered love. She stares at you, her gaze soft and intense, as if she's seeing you for the first time.

“I can't believe you remembered,” she says, referring to a conversation you had weeks prior. “This means so much to me.”

You smile, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. “I just wanted to make you happy.”

Something in your words strikes a chord within her. Without thinking, she blurts out, “Come with me to Matt's comic book tour.”

Her eyes widen slightly as she realizes what she's just said. But she doesn't take it back; instead, she buries her face in your neck, breathing in your scent. With each breath, she finds the idea of being apart from you increasingly unbearable.

“I want you to be there with me,” she continues with more conviction. “I can't imagine doing this without you.”

She pulls back slightly, needing to see your reaction. In your eyes, she finds the same depth of love she feels for you, mirrored back at her.

“As you wish,” you whisper, leaning in to seal your promise with a kiss.

Dinner is a success, largely due to Amy's and your mom's excellent cooking skills. The pasta prepared by Leigh and Jules wasn't a total disaster, but it had its mishaps. After the first batch turned too soggy—practically mush—Jules had to dash out in the middle of dinner to buy another pack of pasta.

Leigh’s father made a brief appearance with his new family, stirring a bit of awkwardness between the exes. Luckily, your mother defused the tension by suggesting a family game. It wasn’t long before laughter filled the room, with Jules energetically shouting clues at those struggling to guess the words on their foreheads.

In the middle of the game, Leigh volunteers to do the dishes. You offer to help, but Jules quickly drags you out of your seat to be the next one to guess the word. While you’re preoccupied, your mom quietly slips out of the living room and follows Leigh into the kitchen.

Leigh is surprised to see your mom. “I've got this,” she assures her with a polite smile. Despite your mom having considerably warmed up to her, Leigh still feels a bit anxious in her presence.

Your mom simply picks up some dinnerware that has already been washed and starts wiping them dry with a towel. “Do you know why Y/N became a veterinarian?” she asks casually.

Leigh smiles, recalling your story about Max, the first animal you ever helped. “Yes, she told me about rescuing a pup. It was really touching,” she says, her eyes softening at the memory.

Your mom observes Leigh, who has already returned to busily washing the dishes. “That’s right. But there’s more to it,” she says.

Leigh stops what she’s doing and tilts her head. “What do you mean by that?” she asks.

“Y/N did get into veterinary school,” your mom begins, placing a dry plate on the stack. “But she dropped out after the first semester. She had this deep-seated dream of traveling the world.”

Leigh listens attentively, wiping her hands on a dishcloth.

“Her father and older brother are both veterinarians, running a small clinic in our town. Naturally, they encouraged her to follow the same path,” your mom continues, “and while she loved animals, she also wanted to explore every corner of the world ever since she was a kid.”

Leigh's hands pause in the sudsy water as she absorbs every word.

“Her father gave her his blessing, and off she went. She traveled the world for two years.”

“What brought her back?” Leigh asks.

Your mom takes a deep breath, her knuckles whitening as she grips the towel more tightly. “H-Her father and brother were killed in a car accident,” she says, each word seeming to be painfully forced out of her.

Leigh's hand flies to her mouth in horror. “Oh no, I... I didn’t know,” she stammers, feeling a rush of guilt and confusion. Why hadn’t this crucial detail come up before?

“It was a terrible time,” your mom says quietly, “but it brought her back home.”

Leigh is silent, guilt gnawing at her for not knowing such a significant detail of your life. She’s been so caught up in sharing her own thoughts and plans, and you’ve always been the listener, never pressing her to ask about your past. She realizes now how little she’s asked about your family.

Leigh abandons her chore altogether. “W-What happened then?”

“After the accident, without their expertise, we couldn't keep the clinic running,” your mom replies, her voice steadier now but still tinged with sadness. “We had to put it up for sale. It was devastating to lose what they had worked so hard for.

“For a long time, Y/N was depressed. She blamed herself for not being there in the last two years, for putting her own interests first. And with the clinic gone, she felt like she had failed to preserve their legacy.”

Leigh is at a loss for words, her eyes growing bleary. “I’m—”

“Being a housewife all those years, I suddenly found myself needing to help put food on the table so Y/N could go back to school,” your mom explains. “For a year, she was just a shell of herself, hardly the vibrant person you know now.”

Needing a moment to process all these revelations, Leigh moves to the dining table and sits down. Her legs feel weak at the thought of you being so heartbroken. She knows grief all too well. Losing one person she loved nearly destroyed her; she can't imagine losing two at once.

“Y/N is the most… beautiful, wonderful and well-adjusted person I know,” Leigh says after a while. “I wouldn't have guessed she went through all that.”

“My daughter is a miracle,” your mom states with a soft smile.

“Thank you for telling me all this,” Leigh says sincerely. “It means a lot to understand what she’s been through.”

Your mom nods and says, “I'm not telling you this just because you're her girlfriend. I'm telling you because I know she’s planning to follow you and leave her practice here in LA behind.”

Leigh's breath hitches as she takes it all in. Learning about your father and brother, she realizes she nearly forgot what she asked of you just hours ago. It's not just a job or a business you're leaving behind—it's a dream that keeps their memory alive, a part of you where they still live on.

“Please, don't ask her to leave everything behind,” your mom says, her voice almost pleading. “Just promise her that you'll come back for her.”

It’s not an easy promise to make—or keep. The mere uncertainty of what lies ahead holds her back. She can't stand the idea of breaking a promise to you or betraying your trust in any way.

Leigh's silence stretches on, and your mom speaks again. “If you can't promise to come back for her, just end it. Don't let it drag on. She's tougher than she knows. It'll hurt, but she won't be alone—I'll be there, and so will her friends and coworkers.”

Leigh balks at her. “I don't want to rush into a decision.”

But your mom isn't listening. Her concern cuts through her caution, compelling her to share more. “After we lost half our family, she was never the same. She’d sacrifice everything for someone she loves, always skeptical of a second chance. She loves like there's no tomorrow.”

It’s the one thing your mother said tonight that rings truest about you. You do love as if it's the last thing you'll ever do.

Before Leigh can respond, Amy walks in, sensing the tension immediately. “Is everything alright?” she asks, her eyes darting between Leigh and your mom.

Leigh suddenly realizes she's been crying, and so has your mom. Your mother excuses herself to the bathroom, leaving Amy looking concerned and bewildered.

“What was that about?” Amy asks.

Leigh, shaken and overwhelmed, struggles to speak. “I-I need to get the gifts for everyone. They're upstairs,” she stammers, then quickly heads to the bedroom, needing to escape and collect herself.

Amy watches Leigh leave, then reaches for the blueberry pie, trying not to read too much into the haunted look in her daughter’s eyes.

It’s a cold January evening when Leigh finally gathers the courage to talk to you. Your mother flew back to Maine three days after Boxing Day, and the rest of the holidays passed by in pure bliss. The two of you are curled up on the couch, a blanket draped over your legs, the remnants of dinner still on the coffee table. She’s been avoiding this conversation, clinging to the hope that something might change. But the more she thinks about the family you lost when you were younger, the more convinced she becomes that your mother was right.

“Can we talk?” Leigh’s voice is soft, almost drowned out by the movie playing in the background.

You mute the TV and turn to her, a look of concern immediately crossing your face. “Of course. What’s on your mind?”

“I’ve been thinking a lot about us, about our future,” Leigh says slowly.

It doesn’t immediately ring any alarm bells in your head, but your heart starts to race. “Okay…” you murmur. You can't help but notice her hands twisting nervously in her lap. You reach out to steady them, and as she looks up, her resolve breaks.

“I love you. You mean the world to me, but…I don’t know if it’s right for you to come with me.”

You frown, eyebrows stitched together in confusion and denial. “Leigh, what are you talking about?”

She looks away, her hands slipping from your grasp as she inches further into her corner of the couch. “I can’t be the reason you give up everything you’ve worked so hard for,” she says.

“I’m not,” you reassure her, trying to keep calm. “It’s just for a little while, right? Less than six months on tour. And it's not like we'll be non-stop; the schedule allows breaks. We can come back home in between. We’ve discussed this, remember? We have a plan in place.”

Leigh grows quiet, her gaze fixed on a spot on the floor. She takes a long breath through her nose, as if preparing herself for something even harder to say. “That's the thing,” she whispers. “I might not come back.”

Everything around you stills.

“What do you mean, you might not come back?”

Leigh’s eyes remained glued to the floor. “For the longest time, I’ve thought about leaving. Now that Jules is embarking on her own trip to Vietnam, and Mom is planning a long vacation in Europe, it feels like the best time to explore what's out there.”

“Leigh, we've been planning this together. It's just a tour. We'll be back,” you reiterate in frustration, starting to grasp at straws.

She merely shakes her head. “Everything about this place reminds me of Matt—both the good and the bad memories. Maybe I—”

“Great. The Matt card again,” you snap.

Leigh bristles at your comment. She stands abruptly and begins to pace. Seething. “Card?” she retorts sharply. “This is my life, my pain—”

“And you’ve just been running away from it all!” you counter, standing up too. “Running away from me!”

“Didn't you?” she fires back, her voice breaking.

“What—”

“Didn't you do the same thing when you lost your—” Leigh can't finish the sentence. It hurts too much to even say it.

You take a step back, shocked. “How did you—”

“Your mom told me.”

The room certainly feels like it's closing in. Unable to stand any longer, your legs give out, and you collapse onto the couch, burying your face in your hands and massaging your temples. Leigh watches you for a moment, then sits beside you. She reaches out tentatively but pulls back, unsure of what to say or do.

Your hands fall away from your face, and you turn to her, your eyes filled with pain and betrayal. “You learned about me losing my dad and my brother, and your response is to... leave me as well?”

Leigh's eyes fill with tears again, and she looks away, unable to hold your gaze. “It’s not like that,” she whispers, her voice trembling.

“What if I promise that the clinic will be okay? Foreman can manage things while I’m away, I trust him,” you suggest, your voice wavering as the reality of the situation starts to consume you.

Leigh shakes her head, dabbing at her eyes with the back of her hand. “I can't,” she murmurs. “I can’t feel good about myself knowing I'm pulling you away from something important to you.”

“But you're what's important to me, Leigh,” you argue weakly.

“That’s not how it works, Y/N,” Leigh says, trying to fight more tears threatening to spill over. “It’s too imbalanced. We don’t need a relationship where one of us is sacrificing too much. That’s not healthy for either of us.”

You sit in stunned silence, her words sinking in. You've always been willing to sacrifice for the people you love, but now you see how it could be a burden for Leigh.

You swallow hard, trying to compose yourself, the words sticking in your throat. “And you think the best for us is to be apart?”

She nods reluctantly. “I think the best for you is to not have to choose between your love and your life's work. I can't ask you to put anything on hold, not for me.”

“But I choose you, Leigh,” you say, tears now streaming down your face. “Doesn't that count for something?”

Leigh can’t help herself any longer. She moves closer, needing to comfort you despite being the source of your pain.

“It does,” she whispers, gently wiping away your tears with her thumb. “It counts for everything. But I need to know that you're not losing yourself to be with me. I can't live with that.”

With that, she pulls you close. You hold each other tightly, falling asleep on the narrow sofa, clinging to each other as if letting go would mean losing everything.

But by the time the sun has risen high in the sky, Leigh is already gone.

There are days when you feel bitter about Leigh deciding to break up with you, especially with weeks still left before the tour begins. You oscillate between anger at her decision and a reluctant acceptance that it might have been the right choice for both of you. More often than not, the anger prevails, leading you to drink yourself to sleep, only to wake up the next day to discover that nothing has changed.

Leigh is still leaving.

To your surprise, Amy willingly provides you with Leigh's flight itinerary out of Los Angeles. In the days leading up to her departure, you find yourself constantly formulating and discarding plans. Will you show up at the airport and whisk her away? Convince her to change her mind? Perhaps even show up with your own suitcase, ready to join her if you can persuade her at the last minute that she’s making a huge mistake?

Ultimately, none of your scenarios play out. However, you do find yourself at the airport, arriving ten minutes before her boarding gate closes. There, you spot Leigh standing in the lobby with a small suitcase. In that instant, you feel like you’ve accepted—for real this time—her decision to do this on her own.

You watch from the shadows as her gaze darts around as if searching for someone. Your heart swells with a mix of hope and sorrow, realizing she might be looking for you. You stay hidden, watching as she pulls out her phone and dials a number. Your phone vibrates in your back pocket. With your eyes still on her, you answer it.

“Hey, it's me,” Leigh starts awkwardly, as if implying that you might not remember how she sounds. You haven’t spoken to each other in weeks.

“I know it's you,” you reply softly.

“I'm about to board,” she says, and you can hear the reluctance in her voice.

“I see,” you say, struggling to contain the emotions that might slip through the cracks of your nonchalance. “Did you pack some food for the flight?”

She laughs, a tearful sound that squeezes your heart. “Yes, I picked up some donuts.”

“Sounds unhealthy, Ms. Shaw. Try to order some broccoli in-flight,” you tease her lightly.

“I hate broccoli,” she deadpans, her voice layered with a stubbornness you know well.

Then, she asks the harder questions, “Where are you? What are you doing?”

You mull it over, caught between honesty and the need to protect her decision. “I'm just hanging out in the clinic,” you lie, unwilling to reveal that you are there, watching her last moments before departure. “Will you call me when you land?”

She sounds like she wants to protest, but you cut in, “I need to know you're safe. It would really help me to know you're okay out there.”

After a few seconds, she agrees softly, “Okay, I'll call.”

“I’ll wait,” you say. “However long it takes,” you add, leaving the meaning of those words open for her to interpret.

They announce final boarding.

“Listen, I—I have to go,” Leigh says quickly. “Please, take care. Goodbye, Y/N.”

“Goodbye, Leigh,” you manage to say, your voice catching as you watch her walk away.

You end the call and pocket your phone. Watching her wipe away a tear and head towards her gate is almost too much to bear. You allow yourself a moment, a small smile playing on your lips, proud of her courage and saddened by her departure. You’ll be waiting for her call, but if it never comes, you'll understand. These moments don't erase the past several months you've spent getting to know Leigh.

And you wouldn’t trade them for the world.

At exactly ten in the evening, Leigh calls you from Boston.

#unbetad #my writing #my fic #elizabeth olsen x reader #elizabeth olsen #leigh shaw x reader #leigh shaw x female reader #leigh shaw #sorry for your loss au #leigh shaw x you #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda maximoff x you #sorry i had to tag wanda x reader for visibility

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heesdreamer · 2 years ago

Text

skin on skin

PAIRING ➩ jake x reader

GENRE ➩ religious corruption au, church boy jake au, evil reader

WARNINGS ➩ heavy criticism of religion in an extreme exaggerated manner, manipulation, multiple smut scenes, the mc is straight up mean and evil and says mean things all the time lol. parental and spousal abuse… think that’s it maybe lol it’s an intense read

WC ➩ 20.4k (😵‍💫)

AUTHORS NOTE ➩ the spacing is a bit weird because apparently this exceeded the length amount in tumblr… i don’t care about your think pieces on religion or the way it’s discussed in this so please don’t try to educate me on the actual ways of christianity! it’s a story! that being said this is in no way making a mockery of jake and his religion. this is my favorite story ive ever done and i had a good time writing it which is rare lately so i really hope you enjoy it and if you make it to the end let me know what you think! hope you like it as much as i do

It wasn’t like you came out of the womb with horns and a little forked tail.

The nurses didn’t scream in terror and your mother didn’t faint at the sight of you, it wasn’t some grand discovery that anybody could see or anybody could plan for.

You made it through your formative years relatively normal, or at least as normal as you could be considering who your father was. But it wasn’t until middle school when you realized how different kids would treat you because of this.

Those were your favorite years you could remember. The half decade before anybody cared, or knew enough to care, what it meant for you to be who you were. Then you were old enough to have consciousness and design your own set of morals, something all the parents in your town dreaded.

Your town was barely that, more so a few neighborhoods sprawled across barren lands with more fields and trees than concrete and signs of the modern world that had seemingly developed everywhere, except for where you’d been born.

Sometimes you wondered if you’d been cursed to stay here forever. It seemed like everybody who was born here, died here, but unlike you they all seemed pretty content with this fact. Proud even, the elders stating the amount of years and generations they’d own their rusty old homes like it didn’t create a nasty pit in your stomach.

Time was frozen and the world had moved on, leaving all 2,000 of you behind to die and birth and die again until eventually the last generation killed themselves off in an act of sympathy, a mercy slaughter.

It was probably immoral to be thinking about your entire town dying whilst in church. But you didn’t think much about the implication of having sinful thoughts anywhere, regardless of how many crosses were currently burning stares into your back.

More than 70% of your life was spent inside these four walls, on this exact weathered seat on this same old pew.

See, when turned 12 years old and the kids at school made you aware of the fact your dad was the lead preacher at the only church in town, you figured this made you some sort of royalty.

Not once did you feel the overwhelming holy presence of god that everybody else seemed to be experiencing everyday after school and work when you all settled in together to listen to your fathers teachings.

You’d sit with a scowl on your face, turning around in the front row pew reserved for the preachers family and you’d observe the people around you. You knew everybody in your town, some more than others, but you always thought people looked different when they prayed.

The nice man who worked at the grocery store looked far more guilty and weathered with his eyes closed and the angry woman two blocks away who yelled at the kids riding their bikes too close to her sprinklers, looked peaceful like she was talking to an old friend.

Your mother would hiss under her breath in an attempt to catch your attention, sending soft pinches to your thighs until you’d begrudgingly turn back in your seat and plop down in your puffy dress, tuning out the sound of your fathers loud voice.

Looking back on it now, your mother seemed to notice the dark parts of you brewing before you even did. The two of you never saw eye to eye and despite the fact you were her only child, much to her dismay considering they tried for years after your birth to have another but to no avail, she never treated you with any sort of motherly warmth or kindness.

She’d glare at you from across the dinner table while her and your father conjoined hands and thanked the lord for the meal that your mother had cooked. You’d started to sit on your hands at dinner when you were 7 years old and what once was a cute misbehaving habit quickly became the warning sign of your future endeavors.

Still, part of being the preachers family was playing an act. So you’d all get up early in the mornings and wordlessly move around the house like the backstage of a play, dressing the part and giving bright smiles to each family that walked through the doorway on Sunday morning.

Your mother would stand behind you with a long stretched out smile, hands on your thin shoulders as she dug her nails down every time she felt you tense up at a greeting.

Then you were 16 and for the first time in your life, you heard her voice the thing you’d always assumed she believed. You stood in the hallway in your nightgown, standing stiff as a board to avoid the creaking wood of your old house, peering around a dimly lit corner to hear your parents conversation more clearly.

“She hasn’t done anything wrong Mary.” Your fathers rough low voice was flowing in your direction, sounding tired and agitated. You could vaguely hear the sounds of his rough hands rubbing over his unshaven scruff in frustration.

“She will.” Your mother sounded panicked and alert, desperate for him to understand her case. “I can’t explain it but she has this darkness in her, I’ve felt it ever since I was pregnant.”

Your breath caught in your throat as they spoke, understanding now they were referring to you. You were only slightly surprised, no grand feelings of fear or betrayal arising.

That nights conversation had ended with your mother in a fit of tears and your father uttering words of reassurance in an attempt to calm her down as you used the sounds of her loud sobs to sneak back to your room, getting under the covers and blowing out the candles by the time your father was opening your door to insure you were in bed.

He’d stood there for a few minutes, the door cracked with his hand on the knob. Do this day you wondered what he was waiting for. Maybe he was expecting you to talk in your sleep or he was trying to get some sense of the evil your mother was spewing about, but eventually you heard his tired sigh and the door shutting.

It’d been three years now since that conversation and you still hadn’t fully understood the evil your mother was referring to. You didn’t believe in god, that much had been clear to you from a very early age but you didn’t believe in the devil either.

You didn’t feel things maybe you should be feeling, sadness when an elder passed away unexpectedly or happiness when a new baby was born into the community. You didn’t feel pain when your mother shot you looks of disgust and you only felt slight jolts of satisfaction when she leapt in fear every time you entered a quiet room.

The seed of evil that was apparently inside of you never bloomed, no matter how much you waited for its arrival.

Until the day the Sim’s arrived to town.

It was extremely rare for somebody to move out of your hometown, and you’d been instructed to never speak about the families that left, to let yourself forget their names and faces. Forget any interaction you’d had with them now that they were gone.

But you’d never once contemplated the fact that it was possible to move here willingly. It hadn’t occurred to you that somebody would choose this place to live and that they’d be allowed to stay peacefully, and especially not given a grand welcome.

So you felt yourself uncharacteristically thrown off guard as you found yourself at church on a Saturday, typically your only day you weren’t required to be here. You’d spend these days down by the creek or riding around the abandoned section of town on your bike, trying to find something interesting to see.

As you stood near the stage, where your fathers podium was perfectly centered and polished, greeting the usual faces with a forced smile, your eyes landed on the most interesting sight you’d ever seen.

The Sim’s were a direct mirror of your family as they stood in front of you. Only three of them, a tall man giving your father a sturdy handshake and laughing like old friends and a small meek woman who was holding your mothers hand in both of hers, a thankful smile on her face.

Placed directly in front of you was a boy, seemingly your age, shifting back and forth on his feet as he waited for you to initiate any form of greeting.

There was people your age in town, your graduating class held 25 kids and over half of them were girls, daughters that were considered blessings for their special ability to continue on your towns population. You’d met boys, few handsome but handsome none the less but nobody who looked like the one standing in front of you.

He was taller than you, peering down at you from behind thin framed glasses and about double your width. You imagined you were hidden behind his shoulders to the view of the people stood in line behind him, waiting to greet your family.

His skin was tanned, something that you imagined wouldn’t last long considering you weren’t sure your town was blessed by the sun at all, almost constantly grey and dreary looking even in the peak of summer.

You took your time observing the boy, not feeling any sense of urgency at the knowledge people were watching and waiting, not even at the fact your mother was stood directly next to you and you could feel her stare on the side of your face. Her loss of attention seemed to make the boys mother nervous and she placed her hands on his shoulders.

“And this is our son, Jake.” She was chirping out and you almost wanted to laugh at how desperate she seemed to impress your family. The boy, Jake, was looking at you still for a second before his eyes shot to your mother and he gave her a nervous smile. “He’s shy at first but he’s a very good boy.”

His eyes flicked back over to yours as she spoke and your mouth quirked up in a small smile, finally sticking out your hand in offering to him.

You felt a strange feeling build up inside you, splattering against your ribs and painting your insides with something deep and powerful. As you held his hand in yours, your eyes caught onto your mothers and you could see the fear crossing over her expression at her own realization.

“Hi Jake.”

And the seed bloomed.

——

It wasn’t more than 30 seconds after your father finished his last word, the remains of it still echoing throughout the room underneath the chorus of ‘amen’s, that your mother was gripping your arm and dragging you back into his office space.

She closed the door swiftly and you yanked your arm out of her grip with a scowl, staring at her for an explanation about her sudden behavior despite having a slight inkling of what she was about to say to you.

“You can’t.” She spoke vaguely, an angry desperation in her voice like you were a feral dog with a hungry look in its eye.

“What are you talking about?” You lowered your agitation, doing your best impression of a confused and fearful daughter. She scoffed at your expression and held a hand to her mouth like she was genuinely amazed at your audacity.

“You leave that boy alone Y/N, or so help me God.” She was shaking her head at you and you felt a surge of annoyance at her tone, her voice shaky and weak.

You thought she was slightly pathetic. She’d spent her entire life treating you like the devil, implying your evil and avoiding you at all cost but the second you finally start to understand her concern and she’s immediately turned to pleading and bargaining. There was no fun in this for you.

Soft knocks against the door caught her attention and she looked over your shoulder, trying to ignore the fact you were still staring at her and not bothering to turn and face whoever had entered.

“Go home and get dinner started.” Your fathers voice was entering the room now in a hushed whisper, like somebody was still outside behind him. “We are going to have a welcome meal with the new residents.”

Your mothers eyes shot back in your direction at his words, like she was begging you to remember her previous warning and you offered her a small smirk before turning to face your father with a toothy grin, expression changing now.

“Of course father, whatever you need.”

——

You’d ignored your mothers glare the entire time you worked on dinner together, setting the table casually and changing into a less formal dress that gained a thumbs up of approval from your father.

When the Sim’s arrived, you greeted them similarly to how you did at church except your mother made sure to shake Jake’s hand for a prolonged amount of time so you couldn’t, only breaking apart when your father cleared his throat and ushered you all towards the polished dining room.

He took his seat at the head of the table and you briefly wondered what type of man Jake’s father was. He was larger than your dad, much larger and you noticed a hint of irritation in his face when he took a seat on the side. You imagined he sat similarly to your father at his own house and didn’t find great pleasure in the new arrangement.

There was three seats on each side and your mother had rushed to take a middle seat next to you, attempting to block anybody else from being seated beside you.

However your father cleared his throat subtly and sent the both of you a small glare, confused at the fact she hadn’t adorned her usual seat next to him. You were sure he realized it would be strange for her to sit a seat away from him, making them look distant or troubled.

She sent you a small angry look but shifted over a space so she was now sat in her usual place, leaning an empty chair between the two of you.

An empty chair that was soon taken by Jake, his mother sending him an encouraging smile and giving him a slight nudge in your direction. You remembered what she said about him being shy, not hiding the fact she was trying to create a friendship between the two of you.

His mothers face angered you more than your own. She was small and weak looking, constantly smiling with wide eyes like she was waiting to drop into a conversation at any time to force a connection, yet she rarely did throughout dinner. For the most part she stayed silent, nodding along obediently every time her husband spoke.

So you kept your attention on the boy for the most part, figuring the adults were too busy kissing eachothers ass’s to care about what the two silent teenagers were doing at the end of the table.

You knew he could feel the way you were watching him, sending you small glances out of the side of his eye and shifting uncomfortably in his seat every time he realized you were still looking.

He really was handsome you were deciding. You’d never really paid attention to boys before, understanding the difference between being attractive and not but it didn’t have any affect on you. You liked the slope of his nose and the way his throat bobbed with every nervous gulp he took.

Your father was seemingly noticing your mutual disinterest in the conversation, you watching Jake and him watching his empty plate. “Y/N honey, why don’t you take Jake to your room and show him some of your notes on our latest teachings.”

Both of your heads turned towards him as he said this, your eyes lighting up with excitement and Jake’s widening slightly.

“Oh..” His mother was starting and you resisted the urge to glare in her direction. “Jake isn’t… he’s never..”

Jake’s father sent her a sharp look and she snapped her mouth shut immediately, looking away from him. Your excitement only doubled as you realized she wasn’t comfortable leaving her son alone with a girl, leading you to believe he never had been before.

“Of course father.” You smiled at him softly, standing and flattening out your dress in a prudish manner. Jake glanced in your direction as you stood, clumsily rising out of his own chair as you headed up the stairs and down the hall to your room.

He followed wordlessly behind, still not speaking even when you stood in the doorway and let him awkwardly squeeze past you so he was stood stiffly in the center of your room. You closed the door behind you and he froze, eyes widening again.

“What are you doing?” His voice was high with worry and you realized it was your first time hearing him speak.

“What are you talking about?” You played dumb as you observed him, walking backwards until your legs hit your bed and you could sit carefully. He stayed standing as he watched you with confusion and worry.

“Mother says not to close doors.” He was shaking his head and it looked like he wanted to go and open it himself. He didn’t move however and you leaned back to rest on your hand, cocking your head in his direction.

“Do you always do what mommy says?” You questioned.

His eyebrows furrowed slightly at your condescending tone. You’d seemed nice enough at church and dinner, not speaking much but polite to your parents whenever you did. He was suddenly worried he had angered you.

“I guess she did say you were a good boy.” You quoted what his mother had said when she introduced him, voice carrying a faint mocking tone as you spoke.

He didn’t say anything after you said that, just standing there looking at you like you were some form of animal he’d never seen before. And maybe he hadn’t you were beginning to think, his speech was structured and tight like he was reciting lines and you were curious if he’d ever had a conversation with somebody his own age.

Your hand reached over to pat the bed next to you, raising an eyebrow at him and urging him to sit.

He watched you with that same look for a few seconds before looking back at the door like he was contemplating how fast he’d have to bolt out of it before you could sink your claws into him. He seemed to decide it wasn’t worth it, crossing the room and sitting down as far away from you as he could possibly get.

“Where’d you come from?” You didn’t plan to say that but the curiosity was driving you crazy, not quite understanding how he could be so sheltered.

“A village not far from here.” He was eventually answering with a soft shrug. He was sat perfectly straight on your bed, posture making him look even taller than he already was considering you were still leaned back on your palm.

You should’ve figured he was from a village, suddenly understanding why his mother was practically a house wife from the 1800’s and his dad looked relatively similar to a lumberjack.

“No girls at your village?” You were watching the side of his face as you questioned him, growing slightly agitated that he wasn’t looking at you. “Jake.”

He turned his face towards you when you addressed him, eyes widening like he was worried you were going to scold him from the sound of your stern call.

“I asked you a question.” When he didn’t immediately answer you assumed he hadn’t heard you, repeating yourself. “Was there no girls where you’re from?”

He was shaking his head swiftly, looking at his hands and then back towards you. “None like..”

“None like me?” You interrupted him as he started to trail off and your lips quirked into a smile. “So no pretty girls then.”

He frowned as you hummed and nodded your head like you’d made sense of what he was trying to say. He didn’t look like even he understood what the things you were saying meant and you almost pitied him as you slowly unlocked the full extent of his naivety.

“You’ve probably never even held hands with a girl right?” You kept your tone sweet despite your intentions.

He looked like he only slightly relaxed at your change of tone, glancing at you as he shook his head as a way to answer your question. He didn’t understand why you wanted to know this.

You were sitting back up straight, off your hands, and leaning sideways to get closer to him. He watched you with panicked eyes as you reached down near his lap and took his hand in yours, similarly to how you shook it at the church but the tension in the room was a direct opposite.

He made a strange noise when you touched him, a semi squeak at the suddenness of your contact and you smiled at him, scooting closer so you weren’t awkwardly stretching your arm in his direction.

“How does it feel?” You murmured, fighting the urge to lean against him and whisper in his ear. You didn’t want to scare him off just yet.

“I don’t think I should be in here.” He was shaking his head as he spoke and staring down at your conjoined hands or maybe the floor past them. They were resting in his lap, the back of your hand on his right thigh.

You frowned softly although he wasn’t looking at you, trying to keep up with your act. He seemed to be more pliant earlier when he thought he had upset you. “Jake.”

He glanced at you as you said his name, just like he had before, and his gaze looked guilty when he noticed the frown on your face. You squeezed his hand to try to bring his attention back to the fact you were touching him but he shook his head again.

“I really need to go Y/N.” He was still trying to sound polite despite his obvious discomfort and you almost smiled at the innocence of that.

“You don’t want me to touch you?” You let a small whine sink into your tone, really trying to drive home the idea that he was upsetting you and you felt him squeeze your hand absentmindedly.

He didn’t reply after you said that and the room fell into a strange silence. Then he was sending a heavy glance in your direction and your mouth parted in realization, understanding his inner monologue by the thick amount of guilt in his expression.

“You do want me to touch you.” You let your smile show now, not finding any reason to hide it now that he clearly took your bait. He squeezed his eyes shut as you said this and shook his head again, his hair messy now and falling into his face.

“What’s wrong Jake?” You were almost cooing at him, your hand sliding out of his and up his wrist, in result the back of your hand going further up his thigh. You kneaded at his wrist bone and he grunted at the almost painful sensation. “It’s just skin.”

He looked at you with a frustrated expression, holding eye contact for a few seconds much to your surprise. You were almost worried he was going to cry. You didn’t mind it personally, if anything you were thinking about how pretty he’d look with watery eyes and a red nose, but you imagined it would cause some level of concern with the parents.

So you released your grip on his wrist, taking your hand back and placing it on your own lap. You were still sitting far too close to him but he visibly relaxed at the lack of touch, however slightly confused why you had backed off.

Almost like the world had been paused for the entirety of your conversation and now played again, a soft knock on your door caused you to leap away from him and grab the bible your father insisted was kept on your nightstand at all times.

You were relieved to see his face when the door opened, knowing your mother would have most likely immediately sniff out what you’d been doing. Or at least attempting to do.

Your father looked between the two of you and the large space, nodding in approval when you flashed him a smile and opened to a random page in the book. He didn’t seem to notice how tense Jake was or the fact your door had been closed in the first place.

“Your parents are leaving Jake. You can stay a bit longer if you two are having fun.” Your father was saying in a welcoming voice but Jake was hopping off your bed before he even had a chance to finish.

“No, sir. Thank you but I really should get home and finish unpacking.” He was stumbling over his words and awkwardly shifting in place, waiting for your dad to move out of the doorway so he could make his escape.

Your dad shot you a confused look over Jake’s shoulder and you gave him a small shrug, fighting the urge to smile.

——

Guilt was eating Jake alive the entire ride home. He wasn’t quite sure what he had necessarily done wrong, what level of sin he had just committed, but his mother kept shooting him disappointed looks in the mirror.

“Will you stop looking at the boy like that.” His fathers gruff voice was mumbling from the drivers seat and his mom snapped her eyes back to the front window obediently. “It’ll be good for him to make a friend.”

“What type of girl leads a boy to her bedroom?” He was surprised his mother had spoken again, especially in the harsh tone she was using. She must’ve been angry enough at you and your behavior to forget the fear she held for Jake’s father.

He felt a bit strange as she said that. You were definitely weird and had made Jake feel something he’d never experienced, and he positively wanted to leave your room as quick as possible but he didn’t think you deserved such a mean comment.

He continued to feel strange for the rest of the night.

Jake laid in bed, hours past his usual bed time, and replayed your interaction in his head. Every time he got to the part where you grabbed his wrist in your tight hold, he squeezed his eyes shut and asked god to forgive him.

He could feel his stomach light up when he thought about your hand on his pants and he wanted to dig his nails into the skin as a self punishment for the thoughts brewing in his head, thoughts he had never had before and didn’t understand.

Rolling over in his bed, stomach to the mattress, he stuffed his face into his pillow and cried softly until he eventually fell asleep.

——

You felt giddy in the church pew the next morning after seeing Jake walk in with his parents. You immediately knew your plan had worked judging by his puffy face and swollen eyes. He’d clearly gotten no sleep and you could take a strong guess at the reason why.

A sick part of you was ecstatic at the fact you had something to do, something that actually managed to catch your interest.

If all it took to keep Jake up all night was you touching his hand, than you were preparing for more fun than you originally thought.

The morning had gone routinely as you remained in your seat for the entire sermon, not spinning around to try to catch a look at the boy despite the urge constantly in the back of your mind. You didn’t focus for a second but you did a solid job pretending until you heard a hushed voice behind you excusing themself.

You snuck a glance back to see Jake passing through his pew with muttered apologies and thanks to the people he was passing, smiling softly at them.

You watched him exit the pew and make his way down the main aisle, no doubt heading towards the bathroom hall since it was the only other part of the building outside of your fathers head office. You let him disappear from your sight and counted to 30 before abruptly standing and following his path before your mother could grab your hand in denial.

By the time you made it to the hall, Jake was exiting the bathroom with damp hands and a few wet strands of hair like he had splashed his face in an attempt to wake up.

His eyes widened when he saw you approaching and he glanced behind him like he was considering disappearing back into the bathroom so you couldn’t say anything to him. You smiled at this but didn’t move closer to him, leaning against the wall.

“What are you doing?” He watched you with careful eyes, not quite sure what you wanted.

You shrugged and furrowed your eyebrows. “What are you doing? You look tired, did you not get any sleep?”

He didn’t say anything as he looked at you, eyes heavy and guilty again like he was afraid you could read his mind. Unlucky for him, you didn’t have to read his mind to know what was happening in it.

“Were you thinking about me?” You pushed forward on his suspicions when he didn’t respond to you, tilting your head as you looked at him.

He didn’t respond again, letting out a small tired exhale before leaning against the wall opposite of you. The hallway was tensioned despite not being close enough to touch even if you stretched your arm out.

“I was thinking about you.” You suddenly confessed in an attempt to catch his interest or potentially get him to lower his walls enough for a solid conversation. It seemed to work considering his head was snapping up and he was looking at you with wide questioning eyes. “Is thinking a sin?”

He watched you for a few seconds, slightly embarrassed that you had somehow realized what his inner dilemma lead back to.

“Yes.” He answered matter of factly and you let out a small laugh.

You observed the way his lips awkwardly quirked up, like he was pleased he made you laugh despite being dead serious in his answer. His smile pulled at his cheeks for a second and you liked the way he nervously wiped his sweaty hands on his pants.

“What… what were you thinking about?” He squeezed the words out like they were painful after a silence fell between the two of you. You felt a bud of satisfaction at the fact he’d been curious enough to ask.

“Touching you.” You shrugged like it was a casual thing to say, watching his shoulders tense and his mouth part slightly in shock and disapproval.

“My hand?” You were a bit surprised that he asked a follow up question, voice dropping into a scared whisper like he was worried somebody was eavesdropping, maybe he was worried god could hear him.

You were watching him for a few uncomfortable beats, liking the way his cheeks turned red and he kept looking away from your gaze anxiously. Then you were shaking your head to answer his question, taking a step closer to his side of the hall.

His breath hitched as you kept taking small strides in his direction, taking your time with a loose smile on your face like you were out for a casual walk. You stopped next to him, turning and pressing your back against the wall he was leaned on so your shoulders were pressing together.

You wondered if he was planning to hold his breath the entire time you were touching him this time around, his face reddening even though your skin was separated by multiple pieces of thick fabric.

“Would you let me touch you again?” You leaned over slightly so you were closer to his ear, your chin hovering over his shoulder.

“You can’t.” He was immediately denying your request, stiff and agitated sounding. His voice was tight as he spoke like he was having to force the words out. “Please don’t do this.”

“Because you’re a good boy right?” You were even closer now, your lips touching the shell of his ear and he was shuddering against you, a frustrated whine in his throat.

He sent a sharp glare in your direction, at least as sharp as his features could get. You thought he looked cute when he was mad at you, eyes brows furrowed and his glasses sliding to the tip of his nose. Despite the way he was looking at you, he made no attempt to push you away or step apart himself.

“I want you to come to my house after church.” You whispered to him and he didn’t say anything, for once not shaking his head and just looking at you as you spoke your cruel demands. “I’ll tell my dad to talk to your parents about helping you catch up on his teachings.”

He looked amazed at your audacity, to not only lie to your parents but to lie about the lord and the Bible made his stomach turn in disgust.

Still, he almost couldn’t help but to lean his shoulder closer to yours and watch you with wide eyes and a parted mouth. He felt almost transfixed by you and your newness, the unique energy you gave off that made his head spin. He nodded his head slowly and watched you smile.

——

You’d waited for your mother to leave the house, a very rare occurrence for her outside of her weekly bingo nights at the recreational center in town, before you poked your head into your fathers office to request he calls the Sim’s.

You felt strangely jittery as you waited for them to send Jake over. Surprisingly, the Sim’s hadn’t moved into a house that far from you and you imagined he could probably ride a bike to your house in less than twenty minutes if the weather ever allowed it, rainy days an almost constant feature around this time of year.

It was only around half an hour before you heard knocks on the front door, followed by the low tone of your fathers voice and eventually the creaking of the steps as somebody made their way up to your bedroom.

Jake seemed thrown off when he saw you, dressed in far more casual clothes than he’d seen you in so far. He also looked momentarily relieved at the fact your door was wide open and you didn’t make any move to shut it as he crossed into the threshold of your room.

“Hi.” He politely addressed you with a slight bow and wave, avoiding looking at you fully where you sat on the bed. You gave him an incredulous look and sighed before patting the spot next to you.

He looked like he was dreading this but expecting it, only taking a few seconds of hesitation before he was shuffling over and sitting slowly down on your soft bed. You immediately scooted closer to him and grabbed his hand in yours.

His reaction wasn’t as intense as last time although he did immediately stiffen and his eyes snapped wide open, but he didn’t let out a small shriek at the feeling of your touch like he did yesterday.

“Are you going to let me touch you today?” You kept your voice low and he was suddenly very aware of the fact your door was completely open and your father was just a few feet away downstairs.

He slowly looked over at you, peering up from behind his long eyelashes and you wanted to grab his face with your nails. He looked like a puppy who had just done something naughty, big eyes unmoving from nerves as they darted around your face so he could avoid holding your strong gaze.

“This isn’t right.” He whispered back, eyes pleading as they finally locked onto yours. You almost felt sorry for him as he spoke, obviously so desperate to set you back on the right path in life. “Mother said I shouldn’t lay a hand on anybody, not even myself.”

You almost smiled as he said this, pleased at the new information he was unknowingly providing you with.

“It’s just skin.” You were reminding him again, slowly leaning against him so your chest was pressed against the side of his arm. His breath hitched at this and he glanced down at your upper body for a second. “You’ve never touched yourself?”

He shook his head immediately, face annoyed like he was offended you’d even suggest he would do such a thing. You liked that even though he was uncomfortable and denying his thoughts towards you, he still wasn’t seemingly capable of pushing you away. He’d still shown up to your house.

“I touch myself.” You were leaning forward more so you could talk into his ear again. A soft whimper left his throat when your lips grazed his skin again but he didn’t say anything, like he was waiting for you to continue. “On this bed, I touch myself every night.”

It was a slight exaggeration. You hadn’t really felt a strong need to touch yourself ever, never having a subject of attraction that left you longing enough that you’d roll around in bed late at night thinking about it, squeezing your thighs together in frustration.

But you were transfixed by the way he immediately tensed again, glancing back behind you towards where your pillows were and then immediately shooting forward and falling to the cross hanging on the wall in front of you both.

“It’s just skin.” You repeated to him again and he sucked in a shaky breath as you said it, bringing his guilty pained eyes back to you. You almost cooed at him, clicking your tongue and holding his chin softly. He leaned into the touch like he wasn’t meaning to and you wondered how touch starved he must be.

Your hand that wasn’t holding his face fell down to his lap, laying flat and still on his thigh as you let him process what you were doing.

He stiffened again and let out a low troubled groan, shaking his head again at himself. You wondered what he was thinking right now, if he was convinced he was heading straight for hell because of his thoughts alone so maybe it didn’t matter if he let you touch him. Or maybe he was seconds away from bolting downstairs and telling your father about what you’d been attempting to do.

“This isn’t right.” He was whispering and still trying to shake his head the best he could with your grip on his face. His repetition was starting to bug you, suddenly feeling impatient as he still hadn’t taken the bait fully.

“But it feels so good.” You purred into his ear, turning his head back to look at the cross and scooting closer so you were pressed tightly against his side. The sensation of this mixed with your hand on his leg was overwhelming and he felt slightly suffocated. “I want to show you Jake, let me show you how good it feels.”

He didn’t say anything for a few seconds and you considered letting him go, wanting to have him completely might mean waiting some time so you didn’t scare him off.

Then he was surprising you and looking back in your direction, your hand falling to his collarbones instead so he could decide what to do with his head. He gave you a soft nod, looking like he immediately regretted it when you wasted no time, pushing your hand forward onto the center of his pants.

He immediately lurched forward with a loud groan at the feeling of your hand on him and you shushed him softly, using the hand on his face to bring him back up to a sitting position and pet his face lovingly.

“You have to be quiet Jake.” You whispered in his ear and nodded towards your open door. He looked at you with a desperate glance, like he was pleading for you to close it despite his upset at that yesterday. You shook your head softly. “Can you be a good boy Jake?”

You started to slowly knead your hand against him, wanting to smile at the fact he was already hard before you had touched him. Light teasing and your soft hand on his thigh already had him bothered.

He was making small noises and you kept his face turned in your direction with your hold back on his jaw. You were sitting up straighter than him so he was a bit below you, having to look up through his eyelashes as he surprisingly held eye contact with you.

“Doesn’t it feel good?” You murmured excitedly, eyes wild and eager. He didn’t reply verbally, another small whine slipping from his throat and you pressed down hard on his cock through his pants. “I asked a question.”

Now he was nodding desperately, hands reaching out to grip your wrist in an attempt to lessen the pressure you were applying to him. “Good- feels good.”

His voice was strained and raspy like it was crawling its way out of his throat and you smiled with sick satisfaction, leaning forward so you were closer to his face. Your nose pressed against his and you thought about kissing him for just a few seconds, eventually deciding against it.

Jake was writhing on the bed now, desperately moving into your hand with small groans and whines, his hips lifting off the blanket in an attempt to chase your touch every time you removed it. He didn’t even seem to realize he was doing it, a dazed expression on his face.

He seemed out of it until your hand was leaving his face and sliding down his sweater covered chest. He didn’t seem to realize you were doing it until your hand was pressing on his stomach slightly, fidgeting with the singular button on his jeans and tugging on the zipper impatiently.

“No, no.” He was whining, grabbing your wrist to stop you from snaking your hand down his pants, touching him without any layers between. “You can’t do that.”

“Why?” You asked incredulously, leaning forward so you were hovering over him slightly. He leaned back on his hand a bit to avoid bumping into your face and you were a few inches from laying on top of him. “I promise it’ll feel so good Jake.”

The usage of his name made him wince, realizing he liked it far too much when you said it. He’d never really considered his name before, completely indifferent to it until he heard the way it rolled off your snake like tongue.

“You aren’t supposed to do that.” He practically spat the words at you but his tone lacked any anger instead sounding fearful and pained. “You can’t touch me there, you just can’t.”

You felt slightly sorry for him as he hiccuped, his voice breaking around the words as you watched tears collect in his pretty eyelashes. His eyes kept darting to the cross on the wall with a guilty expression.

You took your hands off of his lap, listening to his sigh of longing at the loss of contact. You weren’t quite sure what to do in this situation despite seeing it coming, eventually opting for sitting up further on the bed and pulling him into your neck, wrapping your arms around his shaking body in a hug.

He leaned into it and hesitantly wrapped himself around you, tucking his face into your warm neck and letting out a few sobs, tugging you forward slightly by your lower back.

You let him cry for a while, hushing him softly every few minutes just in case, although you were in a less compromising position now, you still didn’t think your father would be thrilled to find you half in the lap of a sniffling boy who was still hard against you.

“Jake.” You were eventually murmuring into his hair once his hiccups subsided slightly, he nuzzled into your neck further at the sound of your soft tone. “What if I didn’t use my hands?”

He picked his head up at this and furrowed his eyebrows at you, his eyes puffy and red with wet streaks still going down his face.

“I don’t understand.” He looked more puppy like than normal as he said this in a soft breathy voice, voice hoarse from crying and his lip almost jutting out into a confused frown.

“Can I show you?” You kept your voice soft as you spoke to him and he immediately nodded his head. He clearly had found some sort of comfort in your embrace, a connection being made enough for him to fall into this state of vulnerability, willingly to accept what you were wanting to give him now.

You felt a sick rush of adrenaline at his lowered walls, the sudden dumb eagerness in his eyes as he seemed to seek out any sign of contact from you.

You imagined it was a flood of emotions, a confusion and tiring feeling to suddenly be presented with a situation that went against everything your life had been carefully crafted around. Not to mention how addicting it must feel to suddenly learn what was on the other side and how good it felt, having unbothered access to it as the two of you sat huddled on your bed.

Kissing his cheek softly, you slowly slid off the bed onto the floor, suddenly thankful you had a thick rug on your bed side. He watched you in confusion, looking like he wanted to grab you and help you up before you shot him a stern look.

Your hands were back on his jeans now that you were fully situated and he looked like he wanted to object for just a second before lifting his hips off the bed so you could pull them down to pool around his ankles.

You took just a second to admire him, his pretty tanned skin overwhelming you a bit in its sheer amount. His legs were surprisingly thick, muscular like an athlete and you briefly remembered you didn’t know much about him at all.

That didn’t bother you at all, if anything it made you want him more when you looked up at him to see his nervous eyes staring down at you in concern. He looked humiliated and you imagined it had something to do with the fact he was still extremely hard, even after crying for so long.

If he was more stable in his emotions, less flighty, you would’ve made fun of him. You would’ve called him names and made him cry all over again and then taken his innocence without a second thought.

Instead you carried on the kindness act, leaning forward and pressing a kiss against his length through his underwear.

He immediately hissed and shot forward, not realizing what you were planning to do and not understanding why you were doing this. He started to stammer out in confusion and you shushed him again, sending a sharp glare towards the open door in warning.

“What are you doing?” He sounded absolutely blown away now, even more than he did earlier and it settled in your mind that he clearly had absolute no sexual knowledge, including blowjobs. “That’s dirty, you can’t do that.”

“Why not?” You were mock frowning up at him. “Did mommy say so?”

He knew you were making fun of him but he still nodded in response, not liking the sudden return of your mean tone. He forgot all about it when you were leaning forward again, this time touching your lips to him longer and sucking softly through the fabric.

“Mommy’s not here.” You were breathing out when you pulled away from him again, much to his dismay considering he immediately lifted his hips back in your direction. “And doesn’t it feel nice?”

He was nodding his head dumbly in agreement, feeling dizzy from the foreign emotions. He still didn’t understand what you were doing but it felt too good to keep questioning, forgetting momentarily about sin and how much punishment was going to come his way after this.

You were sliding your hands up his thighs slowly, stopping at the waistband of his boxers and glancing up at him for any sign of refusal. You didn’t care much for his discomfort but you weren’t going to force him to do anything, despite how much fun you were having with him.

He didn’t make any move to stop you, not even seeming to notice or understand what you were planning to do until you pulled on the elastic swiftly.

Then he was shooting back up from where he’d been leaning back, shaking his head again and covering himself with his hands. You smiled at him from your place on the floor and he looked at you like you were crazy.

You were getting slightly frustrated despite your pleased expression, wanting him to quickly understand what you were planning on doing. You gripped his wrist tightly and pulled them away from his lap

“What are you doing?” He was whispering in a panicked tone, his hands hovering above your head like he was debating pulling you away from him. He let out a yelp when you leaned forward and took the head of his cock into your mouth, watching him with hooded eyes. “T-that’s dirty, stop it.”

You wanted to laugh at his wording choices, sounding like he was a worried mother scolding their child for playing in mud.

“It’s dirty?” You frowned at him when you pulled back for a moment, his wide eyes falling on your wet lips. They squeezed shut just for a moment when you were licking up his full length slowly, humming at the taste of him and his weight on your tongue. “I should probably stop then right?”

He let out a panicked cry and ran a hand over his face in frustration. He wanted you to stop or at least he knew he should want you to stop. His mother had been right and you were not a nice girl, not the type of girl he should be around and he felt his stomach turn at the knowledge he was committing a very large sin by finding pleasure in your lust.

But the pleasure was prominent and overwhelming him to the point he couldn’t think straight.

He understood what sex was and his father had taught him about boyish lust, the kind that wakes you up from your sleep needing to change into a new pair of pajamas but he’d been warned from an early age to simply ignore the occurring urge.

He could still hear his mothers shrieks and cries when she caught him with a pillow between his legs in high school, could feel the welts on the back of his hands from the ruler his father had punished him with. Jake sometimes wondered if other people experienced this urge, this call to sin, as much as he did or if he was rotten inside.

But for the first time in his entire life, Jake couldn’t find it in himself to think about the consequences to falling victim to it. Not when you were touching him in ways not even his dreams could think to imagine.

When he didn’t answer you’d taken him back in your mouth, slightly impressed by how thick he was. He bucked forward his hips instinctively, pushing himself deeper into your mouth and you pinched his thigh roughly in warning.

You heard him cry out in a sob, his hands gripping the blankets so hard they were turning white and shaking at an almost alarming rate.

“Please.” He was begging and you weren’t sure he even knew what for, his voice coming out desperate and needy. “Please i-it feels really weird.”

You hummed around his cock in understanding, your hand petting his thigh and pushing his shirt up on his stomach so you could feel more of him. He didn’t even seem to register you touching him, the sounds of his soft cries and pleads distracting you slightly.

You tapped his hip bone a few times and he seemed to somehow understand the message, pushing his cock deeper into your mouth at a slower pace this time. You let him do what he wanted despite the urge to take control of the situation, knowing there wasn’t any chance he was lasting more than 30 seconds anyways.

He was slightly surprising you already, truthfully you’d expected him to cum before you even got his boxers off his thighs.

You imagined his inner monologue was causing him some issue as you listened to him cry softly from pleasure, little overwhelmed gasps and hiccups as one of his hands grabbed onto the one you were running across his stomach and squeezed it tightly.

“You need to just let it go baby.” You were whispering to him as you pulled off for a second when his hips started to twitch awkwardly, overwhelmed and not understanding what the feeling building up deep in his gut was. “Don’t worry about making a mess.”

The second you took him back in your lips he was following your instructions with a loud moan, completely forgetting you were meant to keep quiet as he came inside your warm mouth.

You winced slightly at the unexpectedness of it, leaning backwards on your knees as you waited for his hips to stop jerking forward.

He was shaking his head at you, eyes teary and his face red as he squinted his eyes in confusion. “What w-was -“

“You came.” You said matter of factly, standing up with a groan from your uncomfortable kneeling position and sitting next to him on the bed again. He leaned sideways into you, much to your surprise, and you resisted the urge to push him off you.

“Was I supposed to?” He whispered in embarrassment and pushed his face into your neck again. You were slightly uncomfortable at his clinginess but you let him do it, knowing he must be feeling a lot.

“Yes Jake. Maybe not all over my face though.” You were trying to joke with him to lighten the atmosphere but you sighed as you heard him let out a little cry into your neck, clearly upset and humiliated.

He was mumbling against your skin, repeated mantras that you couldn’t quite understood through his sobs but had a good guess in what they contained. You imagined reality was coming back to him now and he was processing what he’d just done without the hazy cloud of need cursing his judgement.

“Jake, you need to stop crying.” You were sighing and bringing your hand up to his hair, petting it softly to try to calm him down.

“Did I do a bad thing?” He pulled off your neck to look you in the eyes, his wide and desperate like he was fishing for any bit of reassurance that what you’d just done was okay, that he hadn’t just committed a sin so unholy. You could tell by his expression he was asking just to hear it reaffirmed, for you to tell him again it was just skin.

“My poor baby.” You were cooing at him, lips jutted out in a pout as your hands came up to hold his face, cupping it softly and wiping his teary cheeks with your thumbs. “Of course you did a bad thing.”

He froze completely in your hold and you felt a laugh bubble into your throat, holding it down with all your might so you could get the full extent of his reaction. He sat up slightly, attempting to pull out of your hands before realizing you were holding his face too tight. He gave you a confused and hurt look.

“What?” He was stammering out and his face was curling back into another sob.

“How could you let me do that?” You were tsking at him as you spoke, eyebrows furrowed like he had genuinely offended you. He watched you as panic settled into his eyes at the sound of you kissing your teeth and shaking your head softly. “We were supposed to be studying.”

“B-but.” He was shaking his head and holding onto your wrist, eyes filling with tears. “But you said that..”

He trailed off and you watched him with a raised eyebrow, waiting for him to pass the blame off onto you. Of course he didn’t, his expression hardening although you knew he hadn’t quite realized your motive. He was too innocent to believe you’d deceive him, too stupid to understand every action you did was a carefully crafted lie.

“Maybe it’s time you go Jakey.” You were nodding as you spoke, petting his hair and pushing it back out of his eyes.

He didn’t say anything else, his expression dazed out as he came out of such a vulnerable compliant headspace with a jolt. You watched him in silence as he gathered himself enough to get dressed awkwardly and walk out of your room, loose and tilting like he had just woken up.

You waited for him to be completely out of sight, the sound of the front door closing, before falling back on your bed with a big smile.

——

You’d fallen asleep soon after that without much thought on the situation, feeling only a deep satisfaction at the progress you’d made with Jake and a slight tinge of excitement for the next time you got to see him.

By the time you’d woken up, your mother was already in your room and standing staring down at you. You barely reacted to her presence although you were slightly unnerved and curious just how long she’d been watching you sleep.

“Can I help you?” Your voice was groggy as you sat up and pushed your bedridden hair out of your face.

Any other mother might have found your tired movements cute, maybe they’d give you an endeared smile and reminisce on when you were a baby waking up from naps.

However you were born with a very specific type of mother, maybe one of her kind. She was watching you with a nasty scowl, a knowing look in her eye as she did a slow pan around your room. “Your father said the boy was here yesterday.”

You hummed in agreement, tilting your head softly to try and get a further reaction from her.

“His mother called and said he won’t be at church this morning.” She spat the words at you, accusatory and nasty. “He’s sick.”

You could tell by the way she said that she knew it was a lie, wether Jake was the one telling it or his mother. At first you were slightly shocked he’d lie about being sick but you figured he might just be feeling so, driven by the extreme emotions he’d been feeling.

“What a shame. He seemed more than fine yesterday.” You put in a pity filled voice, shaking your head as you let the innuendo sink in for her, watching the way her face curled with disgust.

“Almost ready?” You father was suddenly in your doorway, observing the scene with a raised eyebrow as he buttoned the cuff of his sleeve.

“Father, would it be okay if I stopped by the Sim’s before heading to service? I’d like to bring Jake some soup for his cold.” Your voice was dripping with sweetness and you vaguely saw your mothers jaw tick with irritation.

“I can do it.” She was rushing to say.

Your father shook his head immediately and held a hand up to silence the both of you from speaking again. He finished buttoning his sleeve and cleared his throat before speaking. “You agreed to meet with the Lee’s today Mary. I think it’d be a good idea for Y/N to go, since they’re friends.”

You smiled appreciatively at him and he gave you a small nod before leaving the room. You glanced at your mother to see her stony expression but surprisingly she didn’t say anything, simply shaking her head in disapproval and following behind him.

It was strange to not leave for church with them, to stand in the window with the curtain pulled back as you smiled and waved watching the car drive off.

You dropped the grin the second they turned the street corner and hurried out the door to get on your bike and head over to the Sim’s house.

You hadn’t been there before despite your father pointing it out on your way home yesterday but it looked pretty much the exact same as the other houses in the neighborhood. It was large and eerie, the rainy atmosphere not helping it.

The door was opening before you could even dismount your bike let alone knock and you saw Jake’s mom standing in the archway with a small frown.

“What are you doing here?” Her tone was harsh and for a second you wondered if he had told her about what happened, confessed his sins in a fit of guilt.

You were so thrown off that you didn’t immediately respond, suddenly aware of the fact you didn’t bring any sort of soup or medicine like you had originally planned, too eager to get out the door to remember your cover story.

Lucky for you, Jake’s father was coming into sight now and a small grunt from him sent the rude woman cowering away.

You observed this with a curious expression and tried not to frown. Maybe Jake wasn’t as innocent and pure as he seemed considering he apparently had some familial issues, obvious in the way his mother showed a fearful obedience to the large man in front of you.

“You here for my boy?” His voice was low and gruff and it was a bit remarkable how different Jake was than his father.

You opted for a small nod, only slightly playing a part considering he actually did a good job at intimidating you. He let out a hum of approval and stepped aside so you could enter the house, not asking anymore questions.

“It’s good you two get along.” You were taking in the main living space as you entered, his voice picking up a conversational tone that sounded slightly unnatural. “I was beginning to think he’d never talk to someone his own age, let alone a girl.”

He had a typical mannish tone, one you’d heard in movies or from the gross men who sat outside the town bar in a drunken haze as they catcalled and talked at a volume far too loud for your small town. It lacked the usual religious hold you were more used to, he almost sounded pleased at the idea of his son being with a girl.

You glanced at him and held his stare. You wondered for a second if he was testing you now, waiting for you to reveal any sinful intentions you had so he could run back to your father and earn some brownie points for catching your sickness in the act.

He raised an eyebrow at you as you cocked your head, willing him to talk further and continue in his attempt at baiting you.

“Upstairs on the right.” He eventually said, your stare unrelenting. You unfroze your stony expression and gave him a small smile, knowing you probably looked crazy with how fast your face changed.

You were walking away from him before he could say anything else or before Jake’s mother could return, skipping a step at a time in your haste to get upstairs.

Without knocking, you pushed open his door and barged in.

He was sat up in bed, lower half under the covers, and he let out a small shriek of surprise at your sudden intrusion, furthered by a quick inhale when he realized who it was that had just walked in.

“W-what are you doing here?” He was rushing out as he watched you close the door behind you and sit down on the end of his bed.

“I came to check on you.” You said it like it was obvious, a soft shrug of your shoulders. “Since you’re sick.”

His mouth parted in confusion for a second before he seemingly remembered he was meant to be ill, looking awkward and guilty at the reminder he had lied.

You didn’t address his obvious reaction, telling you what you already assumed, and instead climbed up further on his bed. He made a strange noise when you got closer to him, pulling back the blankets and getting underneath them with him. You briefly caught sight of his plaid pajama pants before you covered the both of you up.

“M-my parents.” He was shaking his head and anxiously looking at the door like he was waiting for his mom to walk in any second. You watched his distress, wondering if he was possibly hoping for that to happen, before you heard the sound of the front door slamming.

A look of fear passed over his face at the realization his parents had just left him alone with you. You were a bit surprised yourself but you kept your face neutral, watching him to drink up his reaction.

“I came all this way and you can’t even say thank you.” You tsked and relaxed against his pillows with an annoyed expression. “Especially after what you did yesterday.”

He looked upset at the reminder and he was sitting up more now, the blanket pulling forward around his thighs and he practically kneeled and titled forward in your direction. He wasn’t touching you but his hands were clasped together as he practically did a full bow on his bed.

“I’m so sorry.” He started to say the words but his voice broke around them and he rocked slightly back and forth. You almost laughed at the fact he was already about to cry and it’d only been about five minutes alone with you. “Thank you for coming.”

You imagined he’d been doing a lot of crying since you saw him last, staying up all night running your words on loop in his mind. The sincerity in your voice when you told him he committed a disgusting sin.

“Get back under the covers.” You spoke in a calm voice and he picked his head up to look at you in confusion, face red and eyes teary. He looked surprised you weren’t scolding him, having seemingly forgotten you were the one who practically forced him to let you touch him.

He stayed frozen like that for a few seconds before snapping back to reality and nodding appreciatively, getting back under the blankets and pulling them up again so you were covered. He seemed to only now realize you were laying back against the pillows and he mirrored you, laying on his side so he could face you.

“I won’t tell anybody what you did.” You whispered to him now that his attention was fully on you. Your hand came up to hold his face and he tensed for a second at the contact. “Or maybe I will… I haven’t decided.”

He shook his head hastily, scooting closer to your body and grabbing ahold of your hand that was on his face, wrapping both of his around your wrist and squeezing it softly in desperation.

“Y-you can’t.” He urged and you felt his hands shaking around yours. “I mean you can b-but I’m really so sorry and my dad, he’d kill me.”

You shushed him as he started to ramble, petting his cheek and frowning deeply at what he had said. You figured Jake’s dad hurt his mother but you hadn’t considered it extending to his child as well. A strange surge of anger ran through you despite your own twisted intentions.

Scooting down a bit more so you were completely laid down, you put a hand on his back and pulled him towards you until he got the hint and curled into your side with a soft cry. He was stuffing his face back into your neck like he did yesterday and you rubbed his back softly.

You vaguely acknowledged the fact he was completely pressed against your side now, almost laying half on top of you in his emotional state.

“I won’t tell.” You whispered, his soft and messy hair tickling your face as you spoke. In his desperation for comfort he seemed to forget about not touching you, his arm coming up to wrap around your stomach, tugging you closer in a rush of thankfulness and your eyebrows raised in surprise. “But only if you answer my questions.”

He nodded immediately and picked his head up off your neck so he could look at you more clearly. He looked particularly cute like this you decided, his hair unstyled and still sticking up from where he’d slept on it and his soft pajamas that were rubbing against your legs.

“Did you touch yourself last night.” You held his chin as you spoke so he was looking up at you, his head almost resting against your chest as he peered with big wet eyes.

He was shaking his head as much as he could and furrowing his eyebrows like he did the last time you asked him. “I don’t- I wouldn’t. I don’t know how even.”

This fascinated you slightly. You figured he didn’t understand masturbating or its purpose outside of it being sinful but the fact he’d never once curiously touched himself was interesting. You wondered how many nights he laid in bed crying with confusion at the dull ache between his legs.

“Did you like being in my mouth?” Your voice dropped lower for the second question and an automatic whine slipped out from his lips, his face immediately flushing with embarrassment as he seemed to replay the memory.

He was nodding hesitantly much to your annoyance, you wanted to hear him say it but you figured you could take it easy on him today.

Maybe easy wasn’t the best way to describe your current plan for him considering the way you were suddenly pressing your thigh in between his legs, smiling at him when he groaned loudly and tightened his grip on you.

Your side burned slightly from the force in which he curled his hands up at the sudden contact.

“You’re hard.” You said matter of factly, telling the truth and not just teasing him. He was solid against your thigh now and you heard him whimper when you shifted slightly so his tight grip on you was more comfortable. “I barely said anything and you’re hard.”

He shook his head in disagreement but his hips twitched forward, rubbing his erection against you and making a low drawn out sound at the feeling.

“Did I say you could do that?” Your tone was harsh again and he immediately froze, groaning softly and tucking his head forward onto your chest. You let your hand go back to this hair, petting him for a second before gripping it tightly and tugging his head back up to look at you.

He winced at the pain, face contorted as he tried to scoot away from you. However he still didn’t remove his arm from around your stomach so he wasn’t able to go far, his hand still kneading against your side like he didn’t realize he was even moving it.

“Ask me.” You instructed him, still holding his hair in a tight fist. “Clear words, no crying bullshit.”

He looked momentarily taken back by you swearing and being so harsh but then he had a look of guilt like he was remembering the other day and he was attempting to nod in head in agreement.

“Please I want… I want you to touch me.” He settled on, not sure how to word what he needed. You smiled softly at him for his attempt but you weren’t convinced, deciding on helping him ask you properly.

“Tell me you’re disgusting.” You whispered, leaning your face forward so your nose was touching his again, like it did momentarily yesterday. “Say you want to hump my leg like a dog.”

He looked confused and overwhelmed at your words, shaking his head in refusal until you moved your leg again. It rubbed against him and you almost laughed at the fact he was almost harder now even after your tone changed. His hips chased the feeling and you tugged his hair again in warning, listening to his soft groan of frustration.

“I want..” He hiccuped softly and shook his head, trying to force the strange words from his mouth. “I want to hump your leg please please.”

You let go of his hair and his head fell back down onto your chest. He hadn’t completely fulfilled your request but it was good enough for now.

“Alright baby.” You didn’t need to say anything else for him to understand, immediately pulling you closer again and rocking against your side.

You listened to his soft little whines as he humped against you desperately, moving in messy motions as he tried to chase after the feeling he recognized from yesterday.

The feeling of his hand gripping your side was making your head spin a bit much to your irritation and you gripped it tightly, moving it off your waist. He seemed to misunderstand and instead placed it directly over your belly button where your sweater had ridden up, pushing down softly as he rubbed the soft skin of your stomach.

You let out a small groan and this seemed to ignite something in him because he let out a little cry and nuzzled further into you as he dragged his clothed cock over your hip harder.

“Tell me it feels good.” You instructed him and you felt more annoyance at the fact your voice came out breathy, not liking the effect he was having on you.

“S-so good.” He immediately responded and you felt his leg wrap around yours, trying to get closer to you despite it being impossible. “Going to die it’s good, it’s good.”

You laughed softly at his dramatic wording and pet his hair again, trying to get his attention. He slowed down the grinding of his hips to look at you and you nearly cooed at his hooded wet eyes, trying to focus on your face but struggling.

You were originally planning on teasing him some more, attempting to get him to repeat the words you wanted to hear earlier, but at the sight of his pretty overwhelmed face you couldn’t help yourself from leaning in and kissing him softly.

He yelped at the feeling, tensing up for a few seconds before closing his eyes and trying to kiss you back, failing miserably.

You laughed against his lips and you could feel him frowning, face getting red with embarrassment as he uncomfortably shifted against you.

“Come here.” You tapped his back softly and nudged him so he was fully on top of you, squishing you under him but making it so you could reach his mouth better. “Rub your cock on me while we kiss.”

He whined softly, nodding his head despite the flush on his face and you waited while he slowly experimented with the new position, practically in missionary now. When he started to move his hips again, his hard cock was now rubbing directly against your core and he faltered at the feeling, nearly collapsing on top of you.

You smiled at his reaction. You had full doubt that he knew what sex was or the fact he was basically imitating it but you imagine he could get the gist that what you were doing was wrong.

You leaned your head forward to kiss him again, easier now that he was on top of you and seemingly more eager to get it right this time. He was still sloppy, not really understanding how to move his mouth or when but you took over, moving your lips against his slowly.

He seemed to get the hang of it eventually and you could feel his thrust getting more desperate as the kiss got deeper and faster.

Your tongue was in his mouth before he even realized and he made a small startled sound, hips stopping against yours at the new feeling. He was letting out high pitched whines and moans as you licked into his mouth, him drooling slightly and desperately trying to keep your tongue where it was.

You could feel him sucking on it, twisting his head to try to get it deeper in his mouth and he instinctively gave a particularly hard thrust, causing you to moan into him.

This seemed to startle him, pulling back off your face with a wet chin and hooded eyes, looking down at you in amazement.

He did it again experimentally and you could feel the hard print of his cock directly against you, your back arching as your hand came up to grip his hair and stop him from doing it again. You were reminding yourself this wasn’t about your pleasure, you wanted to ruin him and nothing else.

But you couldn’t deny your attraction to him, almost the perfect boy for you if there was to ever be one.

It didn’t help he happened to have an impressive size on him, although you doubted he even realized he was bigger than usual or would know what to do if given that information.

You wrapped a leg around his side and he sucked in a breath, having better access now. He kept rolling his hips sloppily into you and moaning loudly, forgetting who he was or where he was currently at.

“What would mommy think if she saw you like this?” You took it upon yourself to remind him, whispering into his mouth with a pant and almost laughing at the way he immediately tensed and stopped humping against you. “If she walked it to see her son so desperate to sin.”

He was shaking his head and lifting it slightly to be able to look at you better, eyes welling up with tears as he glanced back over his shoulder at the closed door. You hadn’t been there long and you imagined church still had a few hours before it’d be over and they’d be heading back but he seemed to forget all this at the mention of his parents.

“I’m not.” His hair was messy in his face, bangs slightly damp from sweating and his previous tears. “I don’t want to sin, I don’t want to be bad. Please.”

You hummed softly at him, lips forming a mocking pout as you looked at him with gentle eyes. You stroked his cheek and he closed his eyes, leaning against your hand like a puppy.

“My poor baby.” You cooed and kissed him again briefly, he immediately chased after it when you pulled away and you tapped your finger on his cheek to stop him. “You have no idea what I’m going to do to you.”

He seemed confused at what you meant but too drunk on the feeling of your touch and lips, chasing after them again in a messy kiss that was mostly just him trying to get his tongue back against yours.

You indulged him and let him lick into it, letting out soft desperate moans and you were suddenly realizing how much you were aching for him despite managing to keep a cool demeanor on the outside.

You shifted your leg that was wrapped around his middle and he seemed to remember that he was currently on top of you and he went back to writhing against your body, his hard on rubbing against you an almost painful amount now that you were granting him more access with the switched position.

He wasn’t able to hold himself up, curling up on your chest while he moved his lower body with sobs of pain and need.

“God, I thought it’d take longer to break you.” You were trying to make fun of him but your voice broke in a moan at the feeling of him pushing himself against your sensitive clit. “You’re so fucking nasty, look at yourself.”

He was shaking his head and crying fully now, chasing after a high he didn’t even understand and you were almost feeling dizzy from the pace he was going.

“I’m good.” He was blabbering out and looking at you again, trying to lean forward for a kiss but letting out a sharp cry midway and falling back down with his head on your chest.

“You’re a good boy Jake.” You cooed at him, nodding even though he couldn’t see you and he felt sick at the constant changing of your tones. “My good boy right?”

He was suddenly sitting up again, pulling himself against you so he could look at you directly in the eye, if he could see through his tears. He was nodding his head in earnest and you felt your lip quirk up in a smile.

“I’m yours. I want to be yours.” He was rushing out, hands leaving your stomach to balance on either side of you. His tone was pleading and you wondered if he even knew what he was asking for or if he was just repeating what you’d said dumbly.

You kissed him softly and he let out a shaky breath of relief against your lips. However he started to frown when you were suddenly pushing him off of you and patting the empty space on the bed right beside where you were laying. He looked confused and hurt but he didn’t ask any questions, simply rolling over and waiting to see what you were attempting to do.

You watched him for a few seconds, taking in the change of appearance in such a short amount of time.

He was laid back fully on the bed, eyes hooded and cloudy. His mouth was parted slightly as he panted, his chest rising and falling at a fast speed as his arm reached up to try and push his messy hair out of his face. You liked the way he looked like this, especially the way his shirt was ridden up on his stomach, a sliver of skin showing.

He started making small impatient whines and groans so you took mercy on him, flipping yourself over slightly so you could situate yourself on his lap.

You sucked in a breath the second you did, quickly shutting your lips tight after so he didn’t catch sight of the display of pleasure. He was hard underneath and pressed tightly against your core as you sat on him.

“Oh my god.” He was crying out and his hands jutted forward like he was going to grab your sides, stopping midway and flailing around as he didn’t know what he was meant to do with them.

“Touch me.” You spat at him, reaching down to grab his wrist and put his hands on your ass as you leaned forward so you were in a similar position to his a few minutes ago, laying on top of him.

He froze as he touched you and you almost scolded him for acting so prudish with touching you like he wasn’t just trying to fuck you through his cute little pajamas. However you figured it was harder for him to deliberately do something versus acting purely on the overwhelming lust he was feeling.

You gripped his jaw harshly in your hand, your nails digging into his skin slightly as you used your thumb to pull his mouth open and hummed with satisfaction.

“Say you want me inside you.” You whispered, leaning down to talk into his open mouth. You watched his eyes widen in confusion but you rubbed your hips against him as motivation and he immediately complied.

“Want you inside me.” He moaned out, big fat tears sliding down his face. “Y/N please I need it please.”

He didn’t even know what he was asking for but he was overwhelmed and sinking back down into that fuzzy headspace, willing to do anything to get pleasure from you.

You kept his mouth open after he was done speaking and he opened it wider for you, although not understanding where you were heading with this action. He watched with wide confused eyes as you leaned over him and slowly spit into his open mouth.

He cried out, hips bucking up instinctively at the sensation of your spit on his tongue so directly and you almost fell forward from the roughness in which he fucked himself up into you. You smacked his cheek lightly and he snapped his mouth shut with another moan, eyes shut in euphoria.

You hummed at him in approval, leaning back down to kiss him again and lick into his mouth, letting him turn his head sideways in an attempt to get your tongue as deep as possible. You wondered if he was purposely imitating the blowjob you’d given him or if he was just that desperate to be consumed.

“I’m going to take you to hell with me.” You whispered, pulling out of the kiss and petting his hair softly. He shook his head and let out a small sob, this time not from pleasure.

“Do you want to cum?” You didn’t address his denial or tease him further for now, knowing now you had him completely hooked. He was addicted to you and the feelings you gave him and no mean words would be able to keep him away from you.

He seemed hesitant in his nod, now once again thinking about the sins he was committing and the fact he was skipping church to touch a girl inappropriately. But he did eventually nod his head, eyes still watering.

“Then fuck me baby.” You rolled back over as you spoke, flopping onto your back and rubbing his chest through his shirt, slightly surprised by the thick build he had. He was immediately on top of you again and you almost laughed at his haste.

You didn’t mean it literally and you didn’t fear him taking it as such considering he didn’t even know what it meant, he just knew you were cursing and being dirty.

You wondered if he even knew what you had inside your pants, scrapping that idea for another time instead so you didn’t get yourself too worked up thinking about how much it would ruin him to feel you.

He didn’t last long once he was back on top of you, only a few seconds passed before he was letting out a loud cry and hiccuping, his hips jutting against you a few more times in aftershock before he was collapsing on top of you.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” He was sobbing into your neck and you wrapped your arms around his back, rubbing it slowly with an eye roll. “I’m sorry, God please forgive me.”

——

Jake had fallen asleep on top of you shortly after that, exhausted from everything you’d been putting him through both mentally and physically.

You let him lay there on top of you surprisingly despite how uncomfortable it was and how much you kept readying yourself to shove him off of you and leave him without any comfort, you simply couldn’t.

You weren’t quite sure why, it wasn’t like being mean to him was going to ruin your plan and make him not want to talk to you anymore. He was trapped now with you.

Yet you found yourself staying and not only staying but watching him as he slept. He looked younger like this, despite always being very puppy like and boyish you couldn’t deny that Jake was a man and he could be an intimidating one if it wasn’t for his personality. His eyelashes were long and fluttering like he was having a vigorous dream and his back would rise and fall with every deep inhale he took.

By the time he woke up you’d been laying there for probably an hour or two staring at him or looking around his room with curiosity, you felt him shifting against you and almost pretended you were asleep before deciding against it.

He froze his movements when he realized where he was exactly, or at least who it was underneath him. Then he was rolling off of you onto his back with a groan and you were suddenly feeling very cold without his weight and body warmth.

“Did my parents come home?” His voice was low and groggy from sleep and crying and you turned your head to look at him now that you were laying side by side.

“Are you kidding? Like your mother isn’t going to run in here the first second the car parks and hose you down.”

He laughed softly at your words, almost a scoff and your lip quirked up in a smile at his casual reaction, knowing his guard must be down since he was still so tired.

“She wouldn’t do that.” He eventually whispered and you could feel his shoulder pressing against yours. “At least the hose part.”

“Is she as bad as mine?” You weren’t sure what prompted you to ask him something so personal or why you were even making conversation with him in the first place but you were suddenly curious.

“Not sure.” He was looking at you, you could feel it on the side of your head. “My dad is though.”

You hummed as a response, already figuring that from the times you’d interacted with him and the way Jake talked about him earlier. You felt a sudden wave of discomfort at your current situation and fidgeted in your spot on the bed.

“Are you going to leave?” His voice was a whisper still and he wasn’t looking at you anymore from what you could tell. He sounded slightly upset like the thought of you leaving wasn’t pleasant.

“You wanted me to earlier.” You scoffed softly but it was humorless, for some reason feeling offended at the reminder despite knowingly doing everything in your power to make him uncomfortable for your own satisfaction.

He didn’t say anything for a while and you listened to him breathing softly, wondering if he caught on to the hint of insecurity you were accidentally showcasing.

“Well… I guess I’ll see you tomorrow then.” He eventually said and you barely heard him considering how low his voice had gotten.

“See you tomorrow Jake.”

——

Tuesday’s were another day that your schedule was slightly shifted after church service. You had always been instructed to some form of community service on that day of the week, wether is be picking up trash or teaching a small class to the elders and children.

You didn’t mind this despite your distaste for religion. You got some sick satisfaction from watching religious people interact, like babies excitedly chatting about fairy tails and wishing for a big grand gesture to fix their own shitty lives.

Plus it got you out of your house and kept you slightly on the good side of your mother typically although you doubt with your recent actions you’d ever be on that side of the fence again.

So it was particularly annoying when you were tasked to clean the church basement, an area usually unseen by anybody in the town including yourself.

It was a mess of overfilled shelves and baskets stacked to the brim with old holiday decorations or donations from past families that were never put to use.

You’d been hesitant to agree, having to try ten times harder than usual to apply your usual fake smile towards your father when you graciously nodded and accepted the task. Luckily a handful of other volunteers had also followed you down the creaky stairs, one of them being Jake.

Not on his own volition considering the way his eyes bulged out of his head when his father roughly nudged him as you stood at the center of the stage requesting helping hands. He hesitantly held his in the air and avoided making eye contact with you as you smiled happily.

The same smile you held now as you stood side by side with him, taking things off the shelves and throwing them into a trash pile. He looked more anxious than usual, like he was genuinely worried you’d try to do something to him while people were watching.

“Miss Y/N?” One of the older women who had volunteered was approaching the two of you, holding a small basket of, what looked like, old arts and crafts. “I found this and was wondering if you thought your father might want to hang them up in the youth study room?”

“I think that’s a wonderful idea ma’am.” You were smiling widely at her, eyes soft and full of light. “You should bring them up to him.”

She was smiling appreciatively at you before turning and heading back up the stairs, missing the way your smile immediately dropped back into a blank expression.

Jake however, didn’t miss it and you heard him scoff from next to you as he observed the interaction. You glanced at him with a raised eyebrow and he shrugged.

“Don’t you get tired of doing that all the time?” He questioned and you faltered slightly. You hadn’t ever really considered it as something you were doing necessarily so his statement threw you off.

“I don’t know… I do it with everybody. I just do it.” You shrugged and awkwardly looked away from him, feeling confronted.

“You don’t do it with me.” He suddenly declared and you were reminded that you didn’t actually know Jake or his personality that well, completely caught off guard by his bluntness.

“Maybe because I knew you were just as bad as me.” You dropped your voice into a small whisper, leaning closer to him slightly as he glanced around to see which volunteers were over in your side of the basement.

He picked up an old toy and tossed it off in the distance, shaking his head in denial. “That’s not true at all.”

“Why isn’t it?” You cocked your head at him and stopped rummaging through the shelf, more interested in what he was saying. You turned your body so you were facing him and could lean against the wood.

“I believe in this.” He looked around the room as if to emphasize what he was referring to. “I love god.”

“Do you? Or have you just been told to?” You were already sure of the answer but you were curious what he would say about that, if he’s ever sat and thought that over or if his faith was really that unwavering.

“I never questioned it before.” He confirmed with a stern voice, sending you a sharp look so you would understand he was serious. “Not once in my life until we moved here. Not once until..”

He trailed off but the implication was heavy and he looked away with a bright flush on his face. He was obviously referring to you and you felt a small spark of satisfaction at the fact he was implying you were the first thing to ever make him doubt, implying that he was doubting at all.

He scowled slightly when he noticed the bright smile that was on your face, one you didn’t even realize you had.

“I’m serious Y/N. If anyone ever found out I…” He didn’t finish his sentence again but you could get the gist of what he was implying, your smile dropping into a frown.

“You think I don’t know that? The stakes are way higher on my side of things incase you forgot.” Your tone was harsher now but you were taking a step closer to him, not bothering to check if anybody was watching. “But you’re mine right? Like you said?”

He didn’t say anything for a minute, turning to face you and taking a big gulp when he realized you were practically close enough to kiss now. You waited for him to say something against your claim, to tell you he had been lust drunk or he didn’t mean it.

Instead he slowly nodded, eyes shooting down awkwardly to your feet. His shy expression was one you were more familiar seeing him with and your smile returned.

“Can you come over today?” You whispered and he looked back at you with a shocked expression, clearly not expecting you to say that. “I have something to show you.”

He was nodding again, not trusting himself to speak without stuttering and you grinned, turning back to the shelf and continuing with your sorting.

——

By the time church was over and Jake got to your house, you were already sat outside on the porch in a big sweater and a scarf wrapped around your neck.

“Are we not.. going in?” He was standing at the end of your driveway, putting his bikes kickstand down and watching you with a confused expression.

“I said I had to show you something didn’t I?” He watched you as you stood from the cement slab, grabbing your own bike from off the side of your house and walking it down towards him with a half smile.

He didn’t say anything as you both got on your bikes, following behind you as you rode off the curb and down the street.

The ride was long and cold, the sky grey as you passed by old houses and empty shops that’d been abandoned as the owners aged. Jake found the town sad a bit but he was curious what you were leading him too and slightly excited that you wanted to spend time with him in a different way than normal.

Eventually you were crossing the threshold of the city limit, a big sign with chipping paint that was welcoming you in or wishing you safe travels out.

After that it wasn’t long before you were slowing to a stop, surrounded by trees and a large field. Jake watched you get off your bike with a raised eyebrow, waiting until you looked back at him with a beckoning hand.

“It’s this way.” You urged and he hopped off, pushing the bikes alongside each other until you were on the other side of the muddy field, approaching a large river. The sound of it was loud as it rushed but not loud enough to block out the noise of the highway across from it, just off in the distance.

Jake watched it as you unpacked your backpack that he didn’t even realize you’d been wearing until now, unfolding a thick blanket and laying it down on the wet grass.

“They can’t build houses over here because the river always overflows.” You started to explain, pulling out a thermos and something wrapped in paper towel as you talked. “The water levels higher than usual because all the rain we get.”

“Sometimes I wonder if they even know we are over here.” You continued with a scoff, sitting criss cross on the blanket now and looking over at Jake who was dropping his bike.

He sat down too, carefully keeping his wet and muddy shoes off of the fabric.

“Do you come here a lot?” He was muttering what felt like his first words of the day, looking around the area and seeing virtually no signs of civilization other than the highway. He wondered for a second if you had even been able to hear him over the sound of it.

“I guess. There isn’t much else to do if you haven’t noticed by now.” You were shrugging as you spoke, you stuck one of your legs out so it nudged against his.

“I’ve been pretty occupied since I’ve gotten here so I guess I didn’t.” His words made you laugh although he was being serious, only having gone from home to church to your room.

He didn’t say anything as you laughed and he still didn’t when you were suddenly moving out of your sitting position, crawling towards him on all fours until you could press yourself against him.

Every part of you was touching as you sat side by side, both facing the rushing river and trying to not focus on how cold it was outside, the sky slowly darkening now since it was around dinner time. That reminded you that you had packed sandwiches and you were leaning forward slightly to reach them, handing him one and watching him unwrap the paper towel in confusion.

His cheeks turned red when he saw what it was, glancing at you and nodding softly in appreciation before taking a bite.

“Why are we here?” He was breaking the silence the two of you had fallen into as you ate and passed the warm thermos back and forth, watching the highway and the building traffic.

“I don’t know.” You felt strangely vulnerable at this question, not really knowing yourself why you’d taken him to such a private place. “Don’t think too deeply about it.”

Your sudden change of tone made him frown and tense against you, a harshness seeping into your words as you reminded him what type of relationship you had going here.

To further prove your point that this wasn’t anything being sin and attraction, you were quickly turning your upper body so you could face him before leaning forward and pressing into a kiss. He froze completely for a few seconds, brain short circuiting at the sudden contact.

Then he was closing his eyes slowly and kissing you back, a low him of appreciation slipping through your lips and vibrating against his.

You turned your body more so you could climb over his legs, straddling him and making a small noise of surprise when his hands were immediately on your lower back, tugging you in tighter against him.

The two of you kissed like that for a while, you sitting comfortably in his lap and feeling him grow hard underneath you embarrassingly quick. He felt strong and sturdy under you but he was letting out little whines and whimpers and he kept trying to pull you in closer, almost like he was trying to merge the two of you together.

Then you were sitting up on your knees and tugging your long skirt up so it was bunched around your hips, mouth parting slightly at the feeling of the cold air nipping at your bare skin. He watched you with confusion, eyes darting around your legs so fast he felt dizzy.

You sat back down on his hard on, now only separated by his jeans and your underwear and he let out a low moan, shooting forward and ducking his head forward into your neck.

“Y/N.” He whined out and you shushed him, petting his hair and rocking your hips slowly against him, liking the way his mouth parted against your skin as he took deep shuddering breaths.

“I want you to feel me.” You were whispering into his hair and he picked his up in alarm, shaking his head and glancing down at your exposed lap.

“I- I don’t know how.” He was rushing out and you laughed softly, reaching down to grab his wrist off the blanket and pick his hand up.

You placed it against your stomach like it was the other day when he was pressing on it absentmindedly, letting him feel the smooth skin above your underwear line for a while before pushing his hand down slightly past the elastic and listening to his gasp.

You were still rocking against him but slower now, letting him feel you for the first time at his own pace and trying not to overwhelm him.

His hand was shaking fast, from the cold and nerves. You imagined he could feel his own hand pressing against his cock as he kept moving it down, trapping it between the both of you. You dipped down again when he hesitatingly stopped moving it once he was fully in your underwear and he let out a cry at the feeling of your wetness against his skin.

“W-what?” He was crying out in concern, eyes shooting up to look at yours. “Are you okay? Are you bleeding?”

“I’m wet.” You explained to him with a breathy voice despite the fact you knew he didn’t understand what that would mean or if it was good or bad. “Means I feel good, you make me feel good.”

That seemed to alarm him more than the idea of you bleeding, his hand instinctively twitching and pressing against you. You leaned down to kiss him again and he reciprocated, forgetting his hand was on you for a few seconds before you were lowering your hips again.

He wasn’t doing anything but just the feeling of his large hands cupping you was making you feel dizzy, rocking against him again despite the strange noise he let out.

“Touch me baby c’mon.” He looked up at you at the sound of your urging, eyes big and wet. He looked nervous but he hesitatingly moved his fingers, curling slightly and pressing against your clit. You let out a cry and he immediately froze, mistaking it for pain. “No Jake, it’s okay do it again.”

He didn’t look sure but he followed your instructions anyways, curling his hand up and being amazed by the way you threw your head back in a small cry.

The two of you seemed to forget about your surroundings, about the rushing lake or the freezing air that was only making the cold grass more bitter to sit in. You almost forgot who you were or the fact you were only a few minutes outside of town, practically riding Jake in a field visible to anyone who cared.

“You’re so pretty.” You remarked and he frowned at your gentle word causing you to lean forward and kiss him softly. “I want to keep you forever.”

You were too lust drunk to think about the heavy implication of your words or the fact saying them went against everything you’d previously been attempting. The whole reason you’d even started touching him today was to distract him from the fact you’d taken him to a place personal to you, to make him forget your act of kindness.

“You can keep me.” He was stuttering out in a high voice, not really sure if you meant what you were saying considering how confusing he found you, how strange this whole situation was.

Jake had accepted at some point that his life was changing now and for some reason, god had put you in his path. At first he figured you were some type of test of faith, if he could just ignore you and your evil nature then he’d be able to prove he was a good man, a holy man. But he began to wonder eventually if you were truly as terrible as he originally thought, as his mother kept remarking every time his father wasn’t in the room.

You made him cry and you occasionally would say terrible things to him. And it was no doubt you had a habit of sinning and making him sin, even when he didn’t want to.

But he thought you were kind at other times and he could tell by the way you zoned out in church during service and were nice to the young residents or helpful to the old, that you didn’t have no emotion. Maybe you were right, although you had a twisted way of teaching him about it.

You were leaning down to kiss him again and he was taking his hand out of your underwear, wiping it on his pants briefly before cupping your face in both his palms and keeping you there.

“Did I ruin you?” You were muttering against his panting mouth with a small smile, hands petting his hair affectionately.

“Almost.” He answered with a slight laugh, kissing you again.

——

By the time you and Jake had left the field, giggling together while you stuffed the wet blanket back into your backpack and jumped over mud puddles, the sun was set and gone.

You followed the streetlights home, walking the bikes side by side the entire time so the 20 minute ride turned into an hour walk.

You went a few streets without talking for a while, listening to the sounds of your tires rolling over gravel or the music nature provided from the surrounding woods just off in the distance. By the time you were crossing back into city limits and setting your sights on the abandoned buildings on the outskirts of town, your curiosity was weighing on you.

“Why did you move here anyways?” You were mumbling on accident so you weren’t sure he had heard you until he cleared his throat.

“A council member caught dad hitting mom.” He said it casually and you wondered if he was used to it or it was a practiced tone. “I guess they thought it’d look bad to punish him there so they sent us away.”

“Does he hit you too?” You weren’t sure why you asked that considering you were already pretty positive of the answer.

“Yeah sometimes.” He shrugged and tried not to fidget at the feeling of you watching him, kicking at a loose rock in the gravel road. “I think he’s mad I’m not very manly.”

“I think you’re manly.” You were frowning and furrowing your eyebrows, only deepening when you heard him let out a disbelieving scoff. “I’m serious.”

And you were. Despite Jake’s outwardly timid personality and the way he basically turned into a nervous obedient puppy everytime you got your hands on him, he was clearly a man. Both in his broad athletic build and in his day to day actions and personality. He was blunt and honest, telling you what he felt even if he thought it might anger you.

“Yeah, whatever.” He was whispering, still not trusting what you were saying and you froze in your tracks, stood directly under a streetlight. He slowed to a stop when he realized you were walking anymore and looked back at you in confusion.

“You wouldn’t have picked on me if I was manly.” He was explaining once he caught sight of your frustrated expression. “You probably wouldn’t have even noticed me.”

“You think I’m picking on you?” You ignored his second statement for now, eyes darkening at the implication of the first.

You weren’t sure why it struck a nerve within you considering he wasn’t half wrong. You had originally sought him out as a victim for you, an experiment or a game. Maybe even a way to further upset your mother, but you didn’t think he thought you were picking on him entirely.

“I don’t know what to think.” He was shaking his head and his eyes looked sad. He started to push his bike again and you rushed to catch up with him. “This is just confusing.”

“Well I’m not.” You kept your voice firm in an attempt to assure him and he didn’t say anything else, sparing you a long glance before looking back forward so he didn’t accidentally hit a pothole.

The two of you didn’t talk anymore after that, walking in a comfortable silence as you slowly got to a more familiar area for him and he realized you were slowly approaching his neighborhood. You must be planning on dropping him off before making you own way home he decided.

Those plans were quickly halted when you turned the corner of his street and saw your own parents car in his driveway, right next to the Sim’s. You both froze in place and stared in front of you in horror.

“Maybe it’s a coincidence.” He whispered and you jumped at the sudden sound of his voice, the words shaking slightly. “We can tell them we got caught up studying at the park.”

“If they’re here they already know.” You immediately stated in a flat voice, having a sick gut feeling as you looked at the two cars. The lights were on in Jake’s living room and you could vaguely make out multiple shadows walking around inside. “I don’t understand.”

“Maybe your dad heard something the other day.” He was rushing out in a hush, looking at you and your uncharacteristically frozen figure. He’d never seen you scared before and it made his skin crawl. “Or that lady in the basement.”

“No that’s not possible, I was-“ Your words faltered and you sucked in a panicked breath, trying to recall the two incidents he was talking about. You had been so caught up in your giddiness to talk to him that you hadn’t paid attention to your surroundings this morning at all, saying damning idiotic things to him in the church of all places.

His hand was coming up and brushing against your arm that was covered in goosebumps. “Go home. I’ll think of a cover for you, I’ll handle it.”

You looked at him with big eyes, suddenly overwhelmed by his presence and the fact he was willingly to lie for you so easily, willing to sin to both his parents and yours so you could be spared from punishment.

“I can’t leave you with them.” You were shaking your head in earnest and he deflated, understanding immediately there was no way of talking you out of it.

You both stood there for a few more beats, staring at each other under the street light and you briefly wondered if you’d see him again after this. You weren’t sure what your parents knew or if they were just following a strong hunch but you knew it didn’t matter. The second they suspected anything, atleast the men, you wouldn’t be allowed to see Jake anymore.

Eventually he took the first step, setting his bike down at the corner of the street and nudging for you to follow suit although you gave him a confused glance.

Following closely behind him, you tried to match his slow casual pace approaching the door and almost felt like you were going to throw up on the porch when he pushed it open without knocking, deciding to not give them any warning you were approaching.

The sight was just as dreadful as you imagined it would be, your parents sat on the Sim’s old couch while his were standing at attention and listening to whatever it was your father had been saying before your arrival.

All heads turned in your direction when you entered, half looking surprised you were together and the others showing no reaction. Your mother was immediately leaping up from the couch and approaching you with a scowl.

You felt her hand hitting your cheek before you even processed she was crossing the room, your head shooting sideways as your own palms came up to grasp your face in shock. Despite your differences, your mother had never directly struck you.

“You’re a disgrace.” She spat, literally, in your direction and you vaguely saw Jake flinch in your direction like he wanted to grab you. “No more games little girl, they finally see what I have all these years.”

One glance in your fathers direction told you she was telling the truth. He’d never been a good father but he wasn’t cruel, choosing religion over warmth and parenting. So upon seeing his cold stare you automatically knew things were too far gone.

“And you.” She was turning to sneer in Jake’s direction now and you were slightly surprised to see him square back his shoulders, jaw clenching. “How can you be so stupid?”

“Mary, please advise yourself on how you speak to my son.” Jake’s mother was piling up from the couch “I thought we agreed that your daughter is the one at fault here.”

“What?” Jake was spitting out and your eyes widened, wanting to tell him to shut up and let it run its course. “It was as much me as it was her.”

“No it wasn’t.” You were shaking your head at lightning speed, taking a step forward but rocking back again when your mother shot a glare in your direction. “It was all me.”

Jake was glaring at you but you knew he held no anger, only frustration that you were attempting to take the punishment for this. He was crazy to think you wouldn’t considering it was all your doing in the first place.

“It doesn’t matter.” Your fathers cool and calm voice was ringing out and everybody turned to look at him. “Tomorrow morning Y/N will be sent to a correctional school. I should’ve listened to your mother when she begged me to send you years ago.”

Your eyes were watering as you looked at him with pure betrayal. Despite your hatred for your town, for your longing to leave and never return you felt an overwhelming sense of panic at the thought of being sent away. You looked over at Jake to find him already watching you with the same panic in his eyes.

Then he was turning back towards your father with a shake of his head and a stony expression. “I won’t let you do that.”

Jake’s father scoffed, making his first noise of the night and you glanced over at his large frame. He was watching Jake with disgust and amusement but you saw a faint hint of a challenge in his eyes.

“And what will you do son?” He was approaching Jake with a sneer, looking down at him. Jake raised his chin to meet his stare, his hands shaking against his sides. “You can’t even protect your own mother.”

It was said in a whisper so only Jake could hear it but you were standing close enough to faintly catch it, mouth parting in shock at his blunt admission before opening further when Jake was suddenly moving faster than you could even pinpoint when he had started.

Jake was on his father before he even had a chance to prepare for it and you could hear the shrieks of the women, your own fathers grunts as he jumped off the couch to try and control the situation. You were standing on the side, hands out and trying to grip a hold of Jake’s jacket to tug him back when he glanced back at your hurriedly while his dad was disoriented.

“Go.” He mouthed the word at you and you felt your heart shatter slightly, shaking your head in denial before he gave you a firm nod and a soft smile.

You could do nothing but watch in horror as his dad took advantage of him being distracted, slamming Jake onto the ground, nearly blocking the front door. You took your chance to run before somebody realized you were going to and stopped you, sparing Jake one last look before heading out the door.

You aggressively wiped your tears as you ran down the street, sobbing as you could still hear the screams and grunts of pain from Jake coming from the door you’d left open. Your cheek was stinging still but you powered through it, letting the cold numb you as you hopped on your bike you’d abandoned under the light and started peddling so hard your thighs burned.

The wind was howling as you sped past your own neighborhood and the church, the empty buildings a blur through your teary eyes and you fell off your bike once you finally approached the field you’d been in earlier that day, landing in the mud with a cry.

You left your bike near the entrance, wobbling closer to the river with harsh sobs ripping through you, your knees and skirt dripping in mud.

For a moment you wondered if this was it. If you’d been wrong your entire life about religion and sin and this was god letting you know he was here and he was furious with you for the evil you let harvest.

If taking Jake and hurting him was all because you had done bad things and harmed the people around you. You let out a scream of frustration and looked up at the dark grey, wanting to tell him you didn’t care if he was watching and it wasn’t fair.

Instead you let yourself fall against the wet grass, curling into a ball and hugging your knees to your chest as you listened to the rushing river and the honks of traffic. You briefly remembered you were still wearing your backpack and it contained a blanket you could cover up with but you had no energy left to reach back to get it.

You weren’t sure how long you laid there crying, the sky getting darker and darker as you sat and waited.

You weren’t positive what you were even waiting for. Maybe for your parents to come searching for you so they could drag you away to some far away place or maybe the more hopeful part of you was waiting for Jake to come, to tell you he was okay.

The thought of him made you cry harder when you remembered the sounds he was making as you ran out and how furious his father looked about being struck. A man with an ego was dangerous especially when it got wounded.

Waves of guilt were rushing over you for dragging Jake into your twisted fantasies, for wanting to keep him even after you’d gotten what you wanted. For liking him despite not knowing you were capable of that until he arrived. You wished the river would fill up and swallow you inside it.

Over all the combined sounds you barely registered a few being added.

You didn’t hear the sound of the bike tires approaching, or the splashing of the mud puddles underneath hurried feet. You didn’t hear his worried pants or the desperate call of your name in the distance.

It wasn’t until he was there did you feel him, it wasn’t until he was reaching down to grab your arm.

Not until it was skin on skin.

#enhypen #enhypen drabbles #enhypen fanfiction #jake enhypen #heeseung #heeseung drabbles #heeseung x reader #heeseung smut #jake x reader #sunghoon enhypen #jake drabbles #jake au #jake smut #jake fluff #jake fanfic #jake sim #enhypen smut

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evercelle · 8 months ago

Note

You're very obviously into Genshin (and your art for it is absolutely gorgeous), but have you ever tried Mihoyo's Star Rail? One of the more recent main story characters is very Kokichicore, and feels like one you'd really like.

okay. so. here's the story. it is, that i played hsr on release at the pace of a lunatic, and i got to tb 65 in like a week and a half, BUT i swore a blood oath to be f2p in THIS hyv game so i tried REALLY REALLY hard to get blade on his first banner without opening wallet. naturally, i failed! so i quit bc i didnt have the energy to grind two hyv games at once

and now a year later my friends are trying to lure me back in with aventurine. unfortunately, it's working because i have a critical weakness for smiling knifecats with a death gambit. so. ive been scrabbling in the dirt for free jades with my wretchedly out dated builds. i just met firefly and the Thing That Calls Itself Sampo (i think). why are aventurine's eyes so beguiling? these soda dogs are kinda beating my ass. i have 50 pulls saved and a dream. i'll keep u posted on how it goes 😔

#ASK EVER #i beat SU 8-4 by the skin of my teeth... only clara and luocha survived...#and then i got my ass kicked in swarm disaster 2 lol #i have exactly (2) characters that have a full +15 set of relics #building units is so wretched. penacony better be as amazing as everyone keeps telling me to make it worth this agony #aventurines eyes are sooo pretty might be my favorite hyv eyes. LOVE me a neon pink and aqua. theyre so eerie... cute

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wisheslost · 6 months ago

Text

The white-eye warbles, the camellia blooms.

As a writer of Yae Publishing House, you have to visit the shrine for work purposes quite often— and it is on these shrine visits that you came to be even more acquainted with the yashiro commissioner, of whom you were previously known to only as that writer he had bumped into at the Irodori festival, in his sister's words; the most cliché way possible.

cw : mutual pining, friends/strangers to lovers, fluff, reader gets screamed at but its fine its not by ayato, no use of y/n, reader is technically an oc but is never referred to with a name. pls lmk if I should add more!

a/n : ive been meaning to post this but i kept stalling😭 sorry

wc : 5.4k

Kamisato Ayato is a smart man. The revered head of the Kamisato clan knows all there is to know about what's going on amidst the different commissions in Inazuma, but not a single clue does he have about the feelings you harbour for him, and who knows when he will?

You seldom had the opportunity to go to the shrine, and so, everytime you came down from the shrine, everytime you hurriedly made your way through Chinju forest, you did with the same intention in mind— to see Ayato. It didn't matter if he didn't notice you, just a glimpse of his face made your day better.

One of these very days, Ayato saw you pass, and much to your surprise, invited you in to have tea. In an attempt to be polite, and since you were done with work at the time, you accepted his sweet offer.

And so it continued — each time someone of the estate saw you passing by, they'd invite you in and offer you tea, while you tried your best to decline most of the time, sometimes it was just… not doable. Convincing Thoma was a hard job, but to persuade Miss Furuta to let you go was even more difficult.

Now, Ayato wasn't always there, sometimes he was out for a meeting or was doing work in his chamber ( the same chamber you found yourself too unimportant to enter, the chamber that felt almost suffocating to you the one time you went in there. ) but even when he was, if he heard of you having came, he'd offer you to tea with the condition that you had to wait till his work was done. You loved his company, so who were you to deny it?

And perhaps that love you had for the time you spent with him turned into the love you had for him.

You two weren't strangers. No, not at all. You bumped into each other during last year's Irodori festival, and in the most clichesque way ever, all your documents had fallen down, and being the gentleman he was, Ayato helped you pick them up ( obviously !).

Ayato found himself writing you a letter ever so often, and your reply to it that laid there among his official documents was the last to be opened of the day—but not the least, no, it was a way for him to conclude his day positively, or so he had told you. And as you two grew closer, you only found it easier to share your work with him, snippets of something you wrote that you were somewhat proud of , but that didn't make it into the published version of the story, a verse from a poem you gave up on writing, anything you thought he would like— you sent him, and eagerly waited for his reply.

You'd read him some of your poetry time to time— each time you came by his castle of a house, and each time he simply stared at you until you finished, and would then ask you why you used a certain metaphor to describe a certain thing, to which you'd happily answer, or commend you for having thought of something in such a different way, and at the end, he'd pass a rather funny comment, even if unintentionally, such as one like "I want this framed on my wall." to which you could do nothing but laugh, while he simply gazed at the beauty the sky harboured, seemingly deep in thought. Why he always did that, you did not know, and you could only wonder, what exactly did he think of each time?

Is showing your unpublished work to someone outside the Yae Publishing House breach of contract? No... Well, not exactly. You had agreed to abstaining from showing anyone anything that has to do with your unpublished literary pieces, but you knew the publishing house wasn't ever going to publish the poems you wrote on your own. They would say things like the topic's too vague, the metaphors don't make sense, and that the writing didn't flow, whatever that meant. So, what you wrote for the publishing house was what they demanded from you— quite different than what you actually wrote. Alas, they don’t understand your words when they're not catered to them. But it's fine, Ayato did, and what more could you ask for?

Actually, if given the chance, you would definitely ask for something more.

Kamisato Ayato understood social cues quite well, or atleast one would think he would, as that was a big part of his duty. So why he couldn't comprehend your feelings for him, was a mystery to you. But I guess understanding if someone likes you or not isn't really something listed in the skillset a Yashiro commissioner requires.

Now, what he could and couldn't understand was not your problem, and would no longer be, not after you confess your feelings to him. You figured it would be easier to do if you just played it out like one of your usual interactions, and so you wrote a poem. A poem you'd innocently read out to him one of those days you happen to stumble upon his house, and with it, he'd finally understand. Finally understand you liked him.

Something else popped up. A question much unappreciated. The worst outcome possible. “But what if he didn't like you back?” Well the poem isn't even for him then! It's from the point of view of one of my original characters— yes, that excuse is good enough.

But then the day finally arrived, you were finally there, sitting in Kamisato Estate's courtyard eagerly waiting for Ayato to be done with his meeting that had started just as you came, it was not often Ayato had meetings in his chamber, so it seems you just happened to have bad luck today. Sitting on the cushion, waiting for Ayato to be done, you found yourself making multiple revisions to that poem of yours, and in the middle of that, you were suddenly reminded of the meeting at Yae Publishing House you had this evening, but the thought soon slipped your mind as you thought of another line for the poem.

He had promised it would not take too long, but one hour had gone by just like that, and before you knew it, you were barely keeping awake, you couldn't help it, running on 2 hours of sleep from having worked all night, your mind was starting to shut down. Resting your head on the table was probably the first mistake you made that day— but one could argue there were plenty other mistakes made before that, such as not having slept in the first place.

You usually came to meet Ayato around the evening, not only because his workload was lighter that time of the day but also because the publishing house's important meetings and discussions of the sort were held most often, if not all the time, early in the day. And that was precisely why you had forgotten about that meeting you had this evening. Was it the two hours of sleep or the anxiety from the whole confession thing? whatever it was, it was just making your day harder and harder.

It had been an hour and a half since you arrived at Kamisato Estate, the hour spent waiting and scribbling, and the half spent peacefully sleeping as no one bothered to wake you up. It wasn't that the staff of the estate couldn't care less about you, in fact, everyone around noticed you having succumbed to slumber. But who dare to awaken you, Clan Head's possible significant other?

It's true that Ayato was unbeknownst to your feelings towards him, but those at Kamisato Estate weren't. It was easy to tell you had a thing for him, much too obvious that every time you saw him in the eye your heart skipped a beat, and practically every one of the estate's staff thought you two were together, and just trying to hide it. To them, the way you looked at Ayato, was the way he looked at you. His, a loving gaze that never lets go of your frame, and a soul that so desperately wants to tell the whole world how much he loves you(— but hell, he couldn't even fathom telling you) and Yours, a stare that quickly tries to focus on something else when noticed by him, a heart too heavy with emotions— emotions that cannot find their way through speech, and are expressed only through words.

And that serene and loving gaze was the first thing you saw being woken up, because in that whole house, no one except Clan Head himself would have the courage to wake you up.

It's not until Ayato's voice echoes in your ears accompanied by the faint pitter-patter of the rain that you realise your noses are barely inches away from touching as he knelt down to your level.

“Oh, my writer, it seems you've slept most wonderfully in my absence, and on Thoma's jacket, huh?” his tone had a bit of sneer in it, as if he was jealous of the fact you had used Thoma's jacket as a pillow. And there was that— “my writer”, it stemmed from an inside joke, wherein once when he was transcribing a poem you wrote, you called him ‘my personal calligrapher’ which warranted the “That would make you my writer, hm?” and you knew it was a joke but goodness, he called you that only when people weren't around, and the way he said it everytime, Oh Archons!

But wait— You weren't supposed to be swooning over Ayato right now! You should be at the publishing house, attending that meeting— and so you rose up frantically to leave, apologies leaving your mouth rapidly,

“Lord Commissioner, I'm so sorry but I must go, I had an important work thing and I- I'm sorry! I should hav-'' and that is when you get cut off by Ayato's forefinger upon your lips, if that was an attempt to shush you- it worked. “Just go. I understand.” he said, and the reassurance in his voice and the slight smile on his face brought you right back to your senses.

And so you hurriedly put on your shoes to make a run for it, uttering one final ‘sorry’ to him, much to his dismay. And as you made it out the door of the estate, you heard Ayato's voice calling to you- “Take an umbrella!” to which you could only respond— “I'll be fine! The rain's not that bad!” because right now, saving face at the publishing house was far more important than a few drops on your clothes.

Except it wasn't a few drops, you had greatly underestimated the power of the Hydro Archon, because by the time you reached the doors of the publishing house, you were completely wet from head to toe— and saving face was no longer present in your dictionary. In fact, you never even wanted to show your face again- and god, how many and who even were the people attending that meeting? because you were going to embarrass yourself in front of all of them right now.

The second you entered that room where the meeting was going on, as if your bad luck wasn't bad enough, you saw a figure too striking, bright pink hair.. fox ears.. and those eyes, those eyes that didn't take even a full two seconds to notice your presence and announce it to the whole room.

“Oh, look who's here! did the Yashiro Commission- er, reject you, my dear? or did you finally realise where your priorities should lie?” and right after she had said that, you could feel that theories about you and the commissioner had already began floating in the air of that room— whispers of a mixture of words like yashiro commissioner, head of the kamisato clan could be heard, and among them was that name a bit too familiar- Kamisato Ayato. How she knew about your yashiro commission shenanigans, you had no idea, but you weren't about to question her— Guuji Yae was no god, but people were convinced she definitely was omniscient, the way she never lacked information about the people she worked with.

You could swear on your life that the stutter after the words ‘yashiro commission’ was done on purpose, and you'd live. What she was trying to imply wasn't too obvious, in fact, the way she said it, it could easily be interpreted as something entirely different— but what was also true, only it wasn't something you were comfortable with everyone in that room knowing. You couldn't manage to respond to that, ‘tleast not in a way that would allow you to keep your job. And so Guuji Yae's lips spoke again, this time out of pity for you.

“But hey, better late than never.” she said, gesturing for you to come sit next to her.

And so the meeting went on like normal. You were trembling terribly from the cold, dripping wet still but there wasn't anything you could do about it, and as the guy sitting next to you took notice of that and offered you his jacket, you could feel watchful eyes throughout the room landing upon you two, waiting for your response. With the amount of writers present in this room, you knew this interaction was making its way into a light novel soon. Thinking of a response was hard, accepting it would give birth to more conspiracies, but not accepting it would blatantly prove Guuji Yae's previous comment about the yashiro commissioner right. And before you could think of a response to that awfully nice gesture, you were snapped out of your thoughts by your editor, who was currently explaining something on a whiteboard, something you failed to understand because of the preoccupations your mind currently had. “(Name), are you even paying attention !?” were his words, and as if enough people weren't already staring at you, now the whole room was. A nervously spoken ‘sorry’ was all you could let out, and it wasn't even a proper answer to his question.

The meeting dragged on for another 15 minutes— 15 dreadful, cold minutes. And when it was finally over and people were getting out of their seats and as if your luck wasn't already the worst, it only got worse-r as your editor called out to you right as you got up, “Not you. I still have to talk to you.” Did he not see you shivering? Looking like a sopping wet cat? Did he not have an ounce of sympathy?

As everyone else exited the room, you were forced to sit until who knows when. Guuji Yae was the last to leave, and before she stepped out the room, she called the editor over to speak to him, uttering something along the lines of what you thought was “Go easy on the poor thing, ok?” and was that poor thing in question you? most likely, yes. And good for that— he shouldn't think to disobey the owner of this whole establishment right?

But he did. Or atleast, the words that followed after she left did not seem like him ‘going easy on you’ at all.

The way he had his arms on the desk, the way his figure loomed over yours, that expression on his face… oh, you were about to be scolded big time.

“You, tell me. What exactly is your problem?”

“I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again, I apologise.” You couldn't even make eye contact with him as you spoke, and while your attempt at an apology was well delivered, it was terribly timed.

“If you were so fucking sorry as you claim to be, tell me, what the hell has been bothering you so damn much to arrive late to an important meeting when i had reminded you so many times the previous day!?”

Oh. That was a first— never before had you heard him swear like this, and you're pretty sure it probably falls under top 10 things you shouldn't do if you don't want to lose your job, but who were you to say? your job was being held together by a single thread made of miracles.

“I'm really sorry sir, it was just something personal- I can guarantee you, it won't ever happen again.” Ah yes, the infamous personal issue: the inability to manage a schedule.

“Did someone pass away?”

“..No.”

“Someone fall gravely ill?”

“..No”

“Family issues?”

“No-”

“Then WHAT the hell’s been bothering so much you show up late to a meeting with GUUJI YAE? Do you seriously not understand how fucking embarrassing it is? For the writer I had to practically beg for the higher-ups to not fire even though you kept being late and crossing deadlines, to show up late again?” He had yanked you out of your seat with his right hand midway through his speech out of the anger he possessed as of current, becoming physical when angry wasn't uncommon, but for someone who you always saw as calm and cool, for someone who always put up with you no matter what, the breaking point had arrived, and it was wholly your fault.

But you understood. Understood the reasons behind his furious reaction, for he was right, it was truly embarrassing, because that thread made out of miracles that was holding your job in place wasn't made out of miracles at all— it was made out of your editor's continued efforts to keep you in this organisation.

When you didn't, well, more like couldn't respond to him, and he realised the outburst he had just made, he let go of your upper arm, and his hand went back to the desk with his other arm, and as he regained his senses, looking down at the desk realising what he just did, he tried to apologise-

“I didn't mean to-”

“I-it's fine. You don't have to say anything.” Cutting him off was usually not something you would do, but at this moment, it felt right.

“I'm sorry, Please leave. And please, please don't tell anyone about this.” You could see the regret in his face as he sat down on his chair, head in hands refusing to make eye contact with you and instead choosing to stare at the hardwood floor instead, and you knew if anyone found out about this you both would be kicked out the publishing house together.

“I won't. Good night, sir.” and as you exited that room, you could hear a faint “good night” from your editor, who was too ashamed to even speak any louder.

And as you left, you failed to notice the bright pink figure of the Guuji beside the entrance of the conference room, who had eavesdropped on that entire conversation.

________

It had been 11 days since then. 11 days of Ayato wondering whatever it was that you wanted to tell him that day, hoping you would at least write him a letter. But no letter came, and neither did you.

While the Kamisato's days went by quite peacefully and ordinarily, yours were much, much different.

Back at Yae Publishing House that day, the Guuji held your editor back to tell him to get you to write some sort of romance novel around this plot– A careless writer who has amazing skill in writing, but barely manages to keep her job due to the troubles caused by her family, and her editor who has to beg the higher-ups to let her keep her job, who's also hopelessly in love with her.

While the plot is good, you weren't too happy having it recommended to you in that way. Does the Guuji think you have romantic feelings for your editor? or is it vice versa ?

Whatever it is that the Guuji thought, it didn't matter right now, because she demanded the first volume of the comic book that was about to be serialised be done in 15 days. With 11 days already gone by, and everything done on your part, you finally had some leisure time to enjoy, leisure time you were spending laying on the floor in front of the fan sipping cold lavender melon juice peacefully, almost on your way to dreamland.

That is, until you heard a knock on your door. When you went to open it, no one was there, or so you had thought, not having noticed the little kid dressed like a mujina at your doorstep at first, looking sleepy as ever.

“Oh, hello! What is it that brings you here to my doorstep, little one ?” as you bent down to greet the sleepy child, you felt a muscle in your back ache. Ah, the consequences of having the worst sleeping posture known to man.

“I'm not ‘little one’. My name is Sayu. I'm from the shuumatsuban, and Mr. Yashiro Commissioner sent me to relay an important message to you.” as she finishes her sentence, she hands you a little paper from her back pocket that says “I have something important to speak to you about. Come meet me. -your personal calligrapher”

Oh. You're done.

What could it possibly be about !? What could Kamisato Ayato, Clan head of the Kamisato Clan and the Yashiro Commissioner have to talk about that would be important to you !? Whatever it was, it was scaring you.

“Do I have to go right now?” as nervous as you were, you were also curious, what the hell was this man upto? and actually, was he even upto something, or was this just something to get you to come to the estate as quickly as possible?

“Yes, that's what he said anyway.” as she said this, Sayu sounded so, so done with you and Ayato that you couldn't really do anything. It seemed like if you didn't go right now, as soon as possible, Sayu would fall asleep right on your doorstep.

“Alright, then, let us leave. But wait- just one thing-” and so, you went to your bedside table to pick up that diary you always took to Kamisato Estate, the one you wrote that damnee confession in- but, it wasn't there? surely you placed it somewhere else when under the influence of fatigue and forgot.. Well, with Sayu's patience running thinner- you should probably just leave finding that diary to your future self.

Sayu was not at all interested in whatever it was that went on between you and Ayato, she kept quiet the whole way from your house to the Kamisato Estate, except for a yawn or two in the middle.

Your attempt at distracting yourself from whatever it was that Ayato wanted to talk to you about by looking at the flowers and the trees as you made your way to the estate was not quite successful.. for as the dew drops fell off from the roses, you could feel yourself perspire as well.

When you finally stepped foot in Kamisato Estate, you saw him, Kamisato Ayato, simply leaning on his balcony ledge gazing at the horizon, unaware of your resence and all he made you feel. You were quite sure this amount of sweating could submerge Jinren Island.

Jinren Island being submerged aside, no one was there at the estate except Ayato. Miss Furuta wasn't standing at her usual place, Koharu wasn't busy cleaning something that doesn't even look like it needs cleaning, and even Mr. Madarame was nowhere to be seen.

As you were busy analyzing the current state of the ground you were standing on, Sayu's voice spoke—

“Mr. Yashiro Commissioner, I brought them.”

Ayato turned around, his eyes finally meeting yours after what seemed to be an eternity to him.

“Oh, thank you Sayu. You may go now.”

As the man came to sit down, he signaled you to sit near him as well, contrary to how you would usually sit, on the opposite side of the table. “Sit here, you sure look like you need to.” his voice beamed, and you could feel your heart burst into eight thousand pieces upon hearing him talk to you again.

While you were most delighted to finally talk to him again, you couldn't help but wonder where the staff went, therefore naturally, you asked him as he poured his tea from the kettle into his little cup,

“So… where's all the staff gone?”

“Disappointed no one's here to give you free snacks, huh? Don't worry, I'm quite generous when it comes to my food, Here, want a sip?” and as his sentence came to an end, he offered you a cup of tea by raising it to your lips, which you pushed away as politely as you could. “You know I don’t drink tea, right? You asking me multiple times isn't going to change that..”

“Well, it was worth a try.”

“But seriously, where are all the staff? in all my days spent procrastinating here, I've never seen it so empty..”

“I told them to take a break as I was going to have an important person over to discuss some very important, urgent matters, and for that discussion, I need some privacy.”

“But then why not have the meeting in your chamber? Enough privacy there, no?”

“Of course, of course, but you see, this client of mine, they think my chamber is really stuffy and feels suffocating. So naturally, I decided to have said meeting here.”

“Oh, so uhm, when is this meeting of yours? considering the staff are already gone..It must be soon, yes?”

“Oh yes, yes.. Infact, for the staff, the meeting has already started.”

“Wait.. Am I..?”

“Go on, you're almost there.”

“Jackass, I'm the ‘super important’ person you were meeting, huh?”

“See, this is exactly why this meeting is being held. The way you address me, the way you talk to me.. it's not exactly the usual way I'm addressed.. Not even my friends behave this way with me.”

“You have friends?”

“Of course I- See ! that's my point, you talk so nonchalantly to me, what do you think people would think of you as when they see you acting like this in public ?”

“Disrespectful? Discourteous? Rude? Impolite? Ill-mannered?”

“My beautiful Oxford dictionary, that's not what I meant. Don't you think people would look at us joking around and think of us as lovers ?”

As soon as you heard that “beautiful”, oh goodness, you were done for. you had fallen so deep in love with this man it was beyond any find and rescue team to help you. you couldn't make an answer to that statement, no, you were busy in dreamland wondering if all these people at the estate saw you and Ayato talk to each other and thought, “oh, these two definitely have something going on.”

Snap. one snap of his fingers in front of your face, and you were thrown right back into reality.

“So?”

“Uhm, we don't go out much, actually, we've never gone out together, so that's not a problem as far as I'm concerned.”

“The way you say it.. it's almost like you're mad we never go out.”

“Well, we don't. I've never even stepped foot on the east side of the estate.. let alone go anywhere with you.”

“Hm? Let's go there then.” near the end of his sentence, he placed his teacup down and got up, walking to the same place he was standing before you came here, and so you followed.

As he leaned on the ledge of the balcony, his body facing the horizon, he looked at you, hands crossed, yours facing him.

“So? What do you think, are we qualified to go out now?” he spoke, turning towards you, and as he turned, he looked up at something and then smirked, his eyes returning to you. Goodness, he looked so hot— but wait, what was he staring at? before you could fully turn your head to face behind you, his left arm quickly got hold of the side of your neck that you were about to turn, “Why are you-”

“Answer my question first.” throughout this exchange, his hand was still there on your neck holding it from turning around.

“Yes, we can go out together, but what the hell is behind me that you don't want me to see?”

Leaning in towards your ear, he spoke. And to say his lips were one breath away from touching your temple is an understatement. “You remember the thing i told you about the staff, right? Well, they've all gathered near the first window of the second floor, and are currently looking at us, waiting for something to happen.” while he said all this, he was staring daggers into Thoma's soul, who, being the one who accidentally spread the rumour that Ayato was going to confess his feelings for you today, was awkwardly smiling at the slightly pissed off clan head, whose confession of love was about to turn into a source of entertainment for his staff, and of course, something to tease him about later for his sister, also present with the staff. Finishing his sentence, he finally pulled away from you.

“But.. waiting for what to happen..?” trying to get the butterflies in your stomach to calm down from what just happened, you focused back on the conversation.

“Waiting for me to confess.”

Stop the clock. He didn't mean confess his love, did he? Surely there's no way.

“C-confess what!?”

“That- ah, I can't believe I'm saying this in such an ordinary way, but listen, I'm not a man of poetry, or atleast, writing it. I tried to, believe me, but it just looked so awkward to me, nothing compared to what you wrote for me in your diary-”

“YOU READ THAT POEM?”

Ayato put his hands on your shoulders, and in an attempt to calm you down, spoke forth.

“Hey now! Let's calm down, alright? I didn't read anything beyond the 9th line because Ayaka snatched it away from me, so please, don’t be mad. I should have realised I was in no place to open someone else's very personal diary, and I don't even know if that poem was meant for me, but I just-”

“No.. Ayato, you're.. You're too sweet. I'm sure you had no ill intentions, I only freaked out because it was so surprising, and since it was indeed meant for you. And you can read the whole poem afterwards, but for now, please, please go on about what you were telling me.”

“I can't just go on like this, not after you've told me you wrote about me- Me, of all people! Me, after you've written about the sun, the seas, the sky, the surreal- after all that, you wrote about me. And so beautifully, too, I can't go on, not with my life, not with whatever it was I originally wanted to say.” his expression was one you had never seen before, so full of innocence, he looked like a wet puppy in the rain, like he'd die of a cold if you didn't shelter him right away, and you could swear you saw tears welling up in his eyes, and all this because you wrote about him, all this because his feelings were returned, all this because he finally felt loved.

You couldn't even respond, hell, you couldn't even choke back tears, and so as you were processing his words, you wrapped your arms around his torso and went in to hug him, sobbing into his chest. He returned the hug, one arm around your shoulders, and one running over your head, a tear dropping on your head as he did.

When you both pulled away from the hug, it was just laughter and wiping away each others’ tears, until you both were staring at each other fondly. And then Ayaka's voice could be heard from the back— “I told you they wouldn't kiss!” followed by a subdued Thoma, “my mora..”

“You know we can hear, right? And betting on my love life? Seriously?” As Ayato turned to reply to his sister, the staff scurried away, not wanting to be noticed by him, and as amused as you were, you didn't join in on the conversation, instead choosing to pull Ayato's collar towards yourself and pulling his lips onto yours. Before Ayaka could respond, Ayato leaned in to the kiss, cupping your face with his hands, and you could feel him smirk a bit.

He chuckled while pulling away from you, turning to a very surprised Ayaka and Thoma, mouths open in bewilderment,

“So... I guess Thoma wins?”

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