#TY AGAIN FOR ASKING this was so fun to write

[writeriguess]

I have kind of a hyper specific request if that's okay!

Prohero!Reader x prohero!Bakugo where they dated for a bit in hs and she had super long wavy hair, and they broke up like a year or 2 into being pros because she wanted him to be able to focus on his career. The breakup really fucks him up so he just throws himself into working his ass off and rising the ranks not because he has the time to focus on it now, but because it kept his mind off of her. Aside from the occasional collab mission with their agencies, they havent seen each other.

Years later at the reunion, Bakugo and reader meet again, reader cut her hair short and it's just a really bittersweet reunion, both of them changed so much but the love is still very much there. Afterwards, he insists on driving her home and then before going up to her apartment, she asks if he wants to come up and watch a movie or something. They like immediately end up having really passionate, loving sex, and then they talk about how they thought of each other all the time and confess they're still in love, then end up together again.

Ofc no pressure!! It's just been brain rotting in my noggin and I immediately thought of you because your writing is incredible <3

Love you sm ty for taking the time to read this! I hope you have fun and get lots of rest <333

Fading Echoes

You never thought that breaking up with him would hurt as much as it did. Then again, you never thought he'd bury himself in work the way he did, either. It felt like the more space you gave him to focus on his career, the more it pulled him away from everything else—everything that had once mattered to him. You had to go your separate ways, but it didn't mean it didn't tear you apart. You needed him to chase his dream. You couldn’t be the reason he faltered.

But the silence left behind felt like an ache that never fully went away.

When you first met Bakugo, his confidence was loud. Not just in his words but in everything about him. His every movement practically screamed that he was going to be someone, something important in the world. He didn’t need anyone to help him with that—certainly not you. But still, when he’d pull you close at the end of the day, hair still wild and face streaked with dirt from the most recent fight, you felt it. The way he would lean into you, his eyes soft, showing the side of him that only you got to see. The side of him that, even now, sits behind your eyelids, no matter how much time has passed.

You made sure he knew you loved him in every way possible. Every touch, every lingering glance, every shared quiet moment in between battles.

But your love for him wasn’t enough to make him see that his passion for being the best pro hero would take him away. You were there, his teammate, but you weren’t what he needed to be great. And you couldn’t let him slow down, not for you.

So, you broke things off.

He didn't take it well, even though he never said anything, not to you or anyone else. His pride wouldn't let him speak about it, so he threw himself into his work instead. He worked like a machine. No breaks. Just rising, ranking, moving up. Until it felt like it was the only thing that filled the empty space.

Every time you saw his face on a news report or heard his name on the radio, you felt it, the painful reminder of the relationship you tried to hold onto while doing what you thought was best.

But it wasn’t just his achievements that caught your attention. There were the little things—like the way his eyes would dart to your agency’s reports in every collaboration mission. How even when you were both surrounded by your teams, there was always that odd pull, a space between you two that no amount of work could fill. You weren't meant to be in each other's lives anymore, not like that. But somehow, you kept finding yourself searching for his gaze among the crowded halls, watching for his reactions in press conferences, hoping for a glimpse of that spark that had been there before.

But it never came.

You focused on your own career, pushing through the same hustle he did, moving up through the ranks and doing your part in the chaos that was the world of pro heroes. You had your missions, your team, your responsibilities. You couldn’t let his absence swallow you whole, no matter how much you wished you could see him again. Not for closure, not for old times' sake—but just to know that he was okay.

You wish you could tell him that, but what good would it do? He’s moved on. Just like you were supposed to. The silence between you both stretches out endlessly, neither of you willing to break it. And yet, the memory of him lingers in your chest, heavy as stone, constantly weighing you down.

It’s strange—how something so small, a decision that once seemed so clear and right, can ripple out into the world with so much weight, so much force. And now, all that’s left is the sound of silence, filling up the space between you both.

It had been years. Too many years to count on one hand. And yet, when you walked into the reunion, it felt like time slowed down—like everything, even the bustling chatter of old classmates and the clinking of glasses, paused when his eyes locked onto you.

Bakugo had changed. His hair was a bit shorter, his jawline more defined with age, but there was still the same fiery intensity in his gaze. The one that once used to soften when it met yours, now hidden beneath the polished exterior of a pro hero who had seen and conquered so much. And you... you had changed, too. Shorter hair, a clean, crisp bob that framed your face differently, and the same resolute look in your eyes. You were no longer the girl who was afraid of letting go of him. You were stronger. Still, a part of you couldn’t help but wonder—did he still see you the same way?

His eyes lingered on you for just a beat too long, and for the first time in a long while, you felt that familiar tug in your chest. Something between you two had never really faded, no matter how far apart you’d drifted. The love, the history... it was all still there, buried beneath the surface. Neither of you had moved on fully.

You both tried to act cool, pretending you didn’t feel that magnetic pull. Small talk ensued, polite and distant, but there was an undeniable heaviness between you both. It was like stepping into a room that was filled with things you were too scared to touch, too scared to face.

At the end of the night, when everyone else was leaving, Bakugo lingered by the door. He looked at you, his voice low but steady, a little more vulnerable than usual. “Need a ride home?” he asked, like it was nothing. But it wasn’t.

You swallowed, nodding, your heart beating faster than it had in years. "Yeah. I’d appreciate it."

The ride to your apartment was quiet, the air thick with unspoken words. Neither of you seemed to know how to break the tension, but there it was, unavoidable.

When he pulled up to your building, you both lingered for a moment, unsure of the next step. You hesitated, then looked over at him, searching his expression for some hint of what to say next.

"Hey," you murmured, voice shaky despite your best efforts to stay composed. "Do you... want to come up for a bit? Watch a movie or something?"

He didn’t respond immediately, but the look in his eyes softened, and without saying a word, he nodded. Something unspoken passed between you two in that moment—a mutual understanding that things were about to shift, and there was no going back.

Once inside your apartment, you didn’t even make it to the couch. The years of silence, the quiet longing that both of you had buried deep down, surged to the surface like a tidal wave. It started slow—an innocent brush of hands, a glance that held too much meaning, and before you knew it, he was kissing you, fierce and needy. His hands gripped you with urgency, as if he were afraid you’d disappear if he didn’t hold on tight enough.

You felt it all—his warmth, his desperation, the love he still had for you, pulsing through every touch, every kiss. You let go of everything in that moment—every bit of guilt, every hesitation—and just let yourself be consumed by him. By the way he made you feel like you were the only person in the world that mattered.

Clothes hit the floor, discarded carelessly as you both tumbled into your bed, lost in each other. The passion, the love, the fire—it was all there, just as it had been when you were younger, only deeper, more intense. There was no time for hesitation now. No more barriers. No more fear. Just you, him, and the moment you’d both been waiting for.

Afterwards, as you lay beside him, your breaths still shaky, Bakugo’s voice broke the silence. "I thought about you... every fucking day," he admitted, his voice rough, but full of that familiar vulnerability. "I tried to move on, tried to tell myself it was better this way, but I was lying. I’m still... I’m still in love with you."

You turned toward him, your fingers gently tracing the line of his jaw. "Me too," you whispered, the words feeling heavier than you expected. "I never stopped loving you. Not for a second."

Bakugo’s expression softened as he pulled you closer, his forehead resting against yours. "I’m sorry," he murmured. "I should’ve fought harder for us."

You shook your head, gently cupping his face. "We were both so focused on our careers. We didn’t have time for anything else. But we’re here now. And that’s what matters."

His eyes searched yours, and for the first time in a long while, you both smiled. It wasn’t just the relief of physical need—it was something deeper, something far more real. You weren’t just two pro heroes anymore. You were two people, rediscovering each other, reclaiming what had been lost.

And this time, when he kissed you again, it wasn’t filled with the urgency of past regrets. It was filled with hope, with the promise of a future together. A future where you didn’t have to choose between him and your career. A future where you could have both.

The past was behind you. The silence had broken. And the love that had always been there... was finally ready to grow again.

[odileeclipse]

hii! could you do a smc x fem!reader x vp (poly bcs why not) who wears a kimono always bcs of her culture and could you possibly write their reaction to reader wearing casual clothes for just one day? ty!! a mini scenario and some hcs will do

The absence of your kimono’s weight feels almost unnatural, like stepping onto a stage without a costume. Even though you chose this, the shift is unsettling. You pause at the doorway, fingers twitching slightly at the unfamiliar fabric against your skin. Pure Vanilla Cookie is the first to notice, his eyes widening just a fraction before softening into something unreadable tender, but thoughtful. He closes the book in his lap without a word, standing up and approaching you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear. “You…” His voice is barely above a whisper, reverent in a way that makes your stomach twist. Then, as if remembering himself, he exhales a quiet chuckle. “You look beautiful.” He reaches out, fingertips brushing the sleeve of your clothes not judging, just feeling, as if confirming you’re real. “Does it feel alright?” His concern isn’t about the change itself, but about you. Before you can answer, laughter spills from the shadows, light and almost mocking. “Well, well, well.” Shadow Milk Cookie lounges against his staff, a smirk curling his lips. “Has the grand illusionist finally cast aside their veil? Or is this just another trick?” He paces around you, slow and deliberate, like a cat circling something just out of reach. “I have to say, I never imagined I’d see you like this. It’s… disorienting.”

He tilts his head, studying you with his ever-watchful, mismatched eyes. Then, in a hushed whisper, he leans in close. “You look like someone I could almost mistake for ordinary.” The way he says it like it’s some kind of inside joke, a riddle only he understands sends a shiver down your spine. Pure Vanilla sighs, shaking his head but smiling nonetheless. “Shadow Milk, must you always be so dramatic?” “Must you always be so predictable?” Shadow Milk Cookie retorts with an easy grin. “Come now, I was the one blindsided today. Don’t I deserve a moment of theatrical grief?” You roll your eyes, finally finding your voice. “It’s just for today.” “Ah, so the stage resets tomorrow. Good, good.”

“But, I must admit… seeing you like this? I do like surprises.” His smile is sharp but genuine, like he’s enjoying this new puzzle you’ve given him. Pure Vanilla squeezes your hand, anchoring you in the moment. “No matter what you wear,” he says softly, “you’re still you. And I’ll always love you.” Shadow Milk Cookie hums, expression unreadable. “Hmm. I’d say something similar, but that would ruin the fun, wouldn’t it?” Even as he teases, there’s something else in his gaze, something thoughtful, almost possessive. He won’t admit it, but he likes knowing he’s seen you like this when no one else has.

Head canons

💛 Pure Vanilla Cookie

Doesn’t hesitate to reassure you. His first reaction isn’t shock it’s deep admiration.

Gently asks if you feel okay, not because he dislikes the change, but because he wants to know if you’re comfortable.

Loves the beauty of tradition but also loves seeing you explore new things.

If you’re uncertain, he’ll remind you, “You’re still yourself, and that’s what matters.”

His favorite thing isn’t the clothes it’s you.

🃏 Shadow Milk Cookie

Immediately makes a show of it. You’ve given him something new to latch onto, and he will not waste the opportunity.

Theatrical grief? Oh, absolutely. “My dear, I feel as though I have lost something irreplaceable!”

Won’t admit he actually thinks you look good at least, not outright.

The idea of you stepping outside of expectations? He loves it. You’ve intrigued him all over again.

A/N I finally got around to proof reading this enjoy <3

[chenyuvale]

Here you go

wudufusuehdjdhwjdheufhejswhjajshehfhwhdbwuahwurjwueuwueneuwheieuendwuhsuwrjdhwbsjaurjdbwudehejauajeufnwisjaheufjsisjwusjajwhdusnauwhssuehsjsjdeijawiiiejdjsufjejduefuejdjjwjeuduwuwueueusudhehshdwhsheuehsuahejdusjauwushswuhshwhdwusheudhuhsuwjs

i cannot formulate words very well to express to you how much i absolutely adore this wudhehdhebd

i just wanna print it out to stare at it on my door or something

[mercless]

does high noon talon indiscriminately enjoy human suffering or do they avoid certain kinds of people ( ex. children , the elderly , people with disabilities ) ? inversely , do they revel in any specific type of suffering , whether from a certain type of person , or a specific kind of emotion or tragedy ?

All is fair in the world of human suffering; everyone's got something making their life harder then it has to be. Seeing how they do - or don't - deal with it was... is, Talon's favourite pastime. The only thing worth of note that's different is that they don't often see too many kids out on the open road, more often than not it's with families who would rather keep them safe then help a stranger out, and just ride on by their act. Most kids need more time to experience life anyway, to understand what true suffering is and what to be afraid of. To fear death. They're a great tool for tormenting those who care about them, though. Beyond that, age doesn't mean much compared to their drawn out existence. Talon probably doesn't even know the average age a normal human can reach (looks at yone after rell calls him an old man, this is now what old means in human terms nods.)

Not one to make encounters with typical humans last too long beyond a few hours, let along have a history, Talon doesn't care too much to learn about their personal history beyond why they're out on the trail. Maybe get the latest news or fabled hearings their victim knows, though it's not their only way of keeping up with the times. Owing debts is an uncomfortable feeling to most demons, so once they've paid their 'saviour' in kind with whatever they see fit for typically the shared water or rations, Talon will make their finishing move.

Falling into typical demon nature, Talon prefers tormenting those that have a lot further to fall into despair, or those who haven't known what it truly means to be unlucky. Getting to cause their unluckiest experience, and get the most of their terror? Like a fly to honey. The sweetest tragedies is when someone is about to reach a new chapter in their life, a few steps away from finishing a goal. It's all the easier out on roads on their way to and from the larger settlements like Progress. People both ways with big ambitions. Their go-to trick of someone's act of goodness being their downfall hasn't lost it's touch in generations, thinking they're reaching out to help someone in need... Well, it might make something in their chest pang with a thing called guilt now, and their grin lasts for a shorter amount every time, but they'll think of something new when it's run its course. At the very least there's a new kind of confused terror when their corrupted form is revealed, their victims unsure just what kind of foul abomination is about to strike them down.

But still, there's gotta be some kind of bad deed out there that doesn't make them feel conflicted, right?

[cuz-reasons]

Surprise! Hope you're having a great day! If you'd like, share 5 headcanons and/or fun facts about your fics!

Thank you! I love talking so you will regret this lmao This will mainly be about Ingo and Emmet cuz you asked about my fics and also bonus thing about Mel and Nico cuz I've been thinking about them a lot due to the fic I'm currently posting having them in it

This is going under the cut cuz I like to ramble

One headcanon I was thinking about earlier today is that the twins don't think they look good in the other's colour. Like Ingo doesn't like white on him and Emmet doesn't like black. This confuses everyone on account of them being identical, but they genuinely don't see it

I know I've mentioned this before, but the file names for my fics are very rarely the same as the final name on ao3. Notable highlights imo are "egg" and "egg 2" for "An Egg in the Snow," "ingo doesnt remember shit when he wakes up" for "Fuzz and Family", and "that time travel switcheroo thing" for "How to Fix a Temporal Mistake"

Another headcanon I can't figure out how to make a fic about is that Ingo can do a really good metal singer scream. He doesn't do it all that often, but likes to bust it out as a fun party trick. Once he ends up in Hisui, he hears an alpha pokemon roar and basically goes "I can do that" and his party trick turns into a thing to scare alpha pokemon long enough to get away. He also still uses it as a party trick

Speaking of music, Emmet's a trumpet kid. I could also see him on the drums or like the baritone sax, but I think he'd fuck it up a trumpet. Ingo is on some sort of bass instrument, like a trombone or baritone (little tuba looking things). Man certainly got the lungs for it

Bonus Mel and Nico thing cuz I've been thinking of them a lot, I think their proposal was really lowkey and quickly turned silly. Like, they're just chilling one night and Mel's like "hey, do you wanna get married?" And Nico immediately turns into a bright red stammering mess cuz he was trying to get Mel's sister Zara's help with getting a ring ("would she even like a ring, Zara? She works with her hands all day! What if it gets broken or lost or smth!") to propose himself. Now Mel's worried she was too forwards and Nico's trying to explain himself and that he would love to get married. They eventually calm down and Mel says Nico can still propose later if he wants to. He ends up getting Mel and nice pendant to propose with and does so a couple weeks later at the campfire on a camping trip

[cerealmonster15]

Hi Cereal! Hope

Your day is going well so far! 9 and 15 for the fic asks? :)

HI ISA THANK YOU!!! i was waiting til i got home to answer!

9: How did you get into writing fanfiction?

I can't really remember EXACTLY, but back when i was a child in the early 2000s days of internet and on neoseeker forums, i liked seeing stories people would write in the forums dedicated to more creative things, be it fanfic or original stories. i read fics on ffnet, and my cousin even wrote some harvest moon fics that my other cousin and i would read and talk about lol. honestly it always comes back to harvest moon; i liked reading and posting in the threads/forums for harvest moon fics/roleplays [they were BAD bc i was like. 10 years old more or less lol, but i had fun and no concept of what good writing meant]

i don't really remember what got me into writing fics again more """seriously"""" when i got a little older. i never made a ffnet account despite reading and commenting anonymously for a good few years, and i dont remember how or why i made an ao3.

i was under the impression that rvb was what started it, but i remembered recently that like. i KNOW i wrote some homestuck oneshots back in the day. i very specifically can recall a silly croxy oneshot i wrote, but it's nowhere to be found on my ao3.... and there's even evidence of me having done a homestuck secret santa fic swap bc i have one in my gifts from someone and im p sure thats what it was from. so like, i THINK i mustve made ao3 during my homestuck era [bc that came before rvb; i got into homestuck in high school and i didnt know rvb until i started college] but i guess at some point i got embarrassed about my old homestuck fics and deleted them? which i dont really remember doing, so i have no idea when that happened lol. that or i only ever posted them on tumblr.... if i even posted them here? idr!

anyway. tldr: it always comes back to harvest moon / video game forum neoseeker / in general i just get possessed by The Madness and have to write it down. thats what drives me more recently lol.

15: Does anyone you know in real life know you write fanfiction?

jdkfhsklg. there's a small handful of people from irl that follow me here and i do cross post my fics to tumblr so i'd imagine yes, but none of them are into twst which is currently the only thing ive really been writing fics for these days. i also get too embarrassed if i think about it too long so i like to pretend no one knows LOL please dont perceive my antics....

but also when i got BACK into writing fics after like a year or two of not writing anything, when i started writing twst fics, i was just writing them in word docs and sending them to my friend over discord based on our inside jokes and au brainstorming we used to do in the dms bc we got into twst together and there wasnt really much of an eng fanbase back in the early days. and i still send her the google doc links when i write them even tho we dont really talk twst aus like we used to lol. ill just be like "i had an idea / ive been writing this a few weeks here" and then i go put it on ao3 lol jsdklhgksjd shes an irl buddy, so not on tumblr or ao3.

and then my partner. he knows. and he also knows everything i do in life makes me feel irrationally embarrassed so we often joke that my doodles and fanfiction are like, the biggest sin in the entire world. he'll jumpscare me in my room and i slam my laptop shut and hes like 🧍 what are you doing. you better not have been in the google docs. what da hell were you writing 🧍 but he also doesnt know twst outside of what ive told him / random stuff he makes up to try and get a rise out of me lmao so he's never read them. but he knows i write them.

aside from that. NO. and i would like to keep it that way fjksldjfklsjg only people that i think will be cool about it can maybe know and even then im. shy. fjsdklfjskldhlksdjkfl like it's hard enough posting my fics HERE!!!!! the second i hit post i get anxiety jitters and need to go walk around to distract myself from the everything.

i love talking for 900 years to answer 2 questions LOL

[question post🧡]

[actuallyitsstar]

WIP word game: Hope, unwilling, anxious, and unresponsive?

✨ send me a word & find it in my wip! ✨

And Maverick believes it with every shred of hope left in him, every piece of love tied in knots so tight he can’t quite untie them, but experience is a harsher, crueler teacher, and its lessons are much more easily recalled.

And, while Maverick is unwilling to lead when he’s unsure of how to reach the destination, he’s even more against letting their chances pass without making a grab for them.

Bradley often wants to insist that Mav should go to bed first, eyes always anxious upon his godfather, but he doesn’t- because how could such insistence seem appropriate in the wake of so many years of anger and regrets?

and regretfully i don't (yet !!!!!;) have anything for unresponsive!

[skelecentral]

Just saying I LOVE your drawing style, I just gotta say my favorites are Nightmare and Killer. Mainly because their designs look like there from a nightmare and look killer. (See what I did there?)

AAAAAA TYSM YOURE SO KIND!!! AND FUNNY AJSJNSJS!!! Softens my dusty old heart and makes me feel like a dream💞💞

[the-stove-is-divorced]

Hello! Just discovered you tumblr account so I thought I'd take the opportunity to ask a question if you don't mind.

Do you have headcanons about Bruce's ability to cook? Some say he burns water on the stove, others say he's a five-star cook but what do you think?

(Then there's this heartbreaking version I read once. It's about how Bruce actually just mimics failure in the kitchen because Alfred used to be a bad cook himself. The two would learn side by side and that was pretty much the only time they spent together, so Bruce would sabotage their recipes to squeeze out more time with Alfred. That backfired though because Alfred declared him useless in the kitchen and from then on just forbade Bruce to cook because he would find a way to 'burn water on the stove'. And since Bruce never voiced his desire for parental attention but did this sabotage tactic instead, he knows that revealing this to Alfred would devastate him, so he simply messes up anything he cooks intentionally from then on.

:((((( I'm unwell, your honor.)

( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡ OMG tysm for the ask!!! I love rambling, I don't mind at all!!! ♡♡♡ I absolutely have headcanons about Bruce and cooking, omg! I personally loathe the (popular, I believe?) headcanon he can't cook because that never made sense to me! (」＞＜)」 Mister overthinking, contingency planning, kind of paranoia can't cook? Ridiculous. You're telling me the guy who trained to be a vigilante, never learned how to cook a meal properly? The guy raised by Alfred? HOW??? o(>< )o Firmly in the Bruce can Cook and Cook Well camp.

I think one way of bonding for Bruce and Alfred was cooking. Firmly believe Bruce got some of his bad direct communication issues from Alfred, so while they struggled to show appreciation/affection verbally, bonding over cooking/meals/snacks etc was very common!

Plus, no one can't tell me Bruce wasn't the MOST curious kid. People watcher and avid book consumer, if there was a task existing in this world, he wants to know how you did it. Absolutely would help Alfred in the kitchen.

As Bruce got older, they would tackle trickier and trickery recipes and desserts! Nice sense of accomplishment, and again, really fun bonding for the both of them! They can cook and bake together pretty smoothly! Had their fun little chats, talked about their days, little jokes and the like.

Usually, Alfred enjoys cooking alone but Bruce? That's his son right there! Come join him in the kitchen this instant. Enjoying each other's company while they talk, or Bruce works on a case, or even younger Bruce doing homework??? Peak pleasant afternoons.

PLUS: Alfred also really enjoys cooking for Bruce, no matter how old either of them get. I think it could be fun teasing if Alfred called Bruce "bad" at cooking, when in reality he's good at it (largely because of Alfred) but just so happens do it exclusively with him, especially when considering how busy he can be, so the batkids never really get to see him to cook could come to that assumption.

BONUS IDEA: Bruce helping Alfred meal-prep at least once a week, and that's when they can chat the most! Usually very early in the morning so hardly anyone's awake!

Most self indulgent HC tho? In my heart and soul Bruce helps make the kid's lunches. Maybe puts notes in them. But it's Bruce, so stuff like "You did well on patrol" and "Looking forward to [insert upcoming event like a school showcase or parent teacher conference]." The kids can assume Alfred makes them, and Bruce writes the notes, but no, it's Bruce at like 4 in the morning.

That and while Bruce used to be a pickier eater as a kid/teen/young adult, once he did his whole Batman training, he forces himself to be able to eat anything even if he doesn't like it, but Alfred still keeps track of his favorite foods. I am a Bruce will indulge in a sugary sweet treat truther. It's a rare event but he is absolutely delighted by sweets. No one knows this like Alfred, though.

AND OOOO that's such a fun angst idea! Personally, I believe younger Bruce was too much of a perfectionist to sabotage himself in the kitchen (in my head, for Alfred, cooking/teaching Bruce how to cook was the easiest ways to spend time with the child post-parent death so it started when he was rlly young), but I think that can be fun too! I love a good angst idea, and the lack of communication skills and misunderstandings? Hell yeah.

Thank you so much for the ask, I love talking and rambling and stuff, haha! ( 〃▽〃) I have so many opinions about Bruce. Too many.

[lanternlightss]

a fake title... "sleepless nights and daydreams" ?? that sounds poetic, yeah ??

THAT SOUNDS SO COOL !!!

for some reason thinking about rosaria specifically for sleepless nights but also !! hm. amos staying awake and daydreaming about what could be…. perhaps………

percy in the lightning thief maybe……. wondering about his mom….. oooo or maybe a continuation of the au thing where sally accidentally gets eebie deebied??

indecisive </3. let’s see…. something along the lines of these?

(once again under the cut because !!! they got a little long, ehe…)

The tile is frighteningly cold, even with the boots on. Still, she trudges forward, pulling the hood of her cloak down further.

These nights are always the coldest—when He refuses to listen.

Everyone in the city is getting antsy, is getting reckless (she thinks not of the bard who has a rather unfortunate track record with jail, who continues to greet her with a startled, “Ah, Miss Amos! I promise I was trying to stay out of trouble!”)

She refuses to entertain the smile tugging at her lips. Looking out the arched window, it falls on its own accord.

He is…. trying different measures. He did not listen to her pleads to lessen the winds, as the crops are beginning to wilt, and the trades are beginning to falter.

No one wants to come near a whirling wall of wind. Yet He does not listen. So desperate to keep them all safe, to keep them from everyone and everything, that he has begun to tighten the bolts to their cage.

Amos sighs, a little frustrated, a little aggravated.

Walking up to the window, she lays a gentle hand against the still, and leans against one side. A particular biting breeze decides to cut past her, then.

How…. ugh, lovely.

She cannot help the crestfallen look that crosses her face. If… if only—

(Amos dares not to hope, but.)

If only things were different. If she could convince Decarabian to see her way, to see the people’s. They are slowly dying.

If… if she could convince him to bring down the walls. If she could convince him to step from that throne of his, to see the world as mortals do. If she could….

If she could see the ocean…. with them all.

See, this afternoon, she was talking with the bard, and the warrior. They had told her the reasons of wanting out of this city.

The bard, to see the skies and birds.

The warrior…. he had not given his reasons, truly, but the wistful look in his eyes as the bard talked…..

Perhaps he had wished to be able to travel again. He had once said he was something of a wanderer before.

And she… she, Amos, one of the best archers there ever was….

She had wanted to see the ocean, the forests. To see the waves as they gently crashed against the glittering sand of the beach! To see greenery of all kinds spread around her, of bushes and flowers and trees of all kinds!

She kept this to herself, but she wanted to see it all with them, too.

To see the bard play around and splash in the water, spraying the warrior. To see the knight stand off to the side, quietly laughing as the two of them chase the other around. To see the wisp distract the warrior by blowing his hair this way and that….

To even see… perhaps, Decarabian with them all, too. A distance away, she is not sure how the others would respond to him, but there all the same. Awkward and trying and telling her—

A shudder wracks through her body. She pulls the hood, and cloak, closer around her in an attempt to stave off any more cold.

Amos will admit to a bit of grumbling. (She will not admit to nearly shouting a curse to the heavens.)

Quite a cruel reminder, no?

—

No matter what, Percy can never quite get adjusted to the feeling of sand. Sure, it’s fun, and he’ll admit, even a little cool, but then it just gets everywhere and—

He groans, hopping on one foot to try and grab his shoe. Not again.

It’s popped right back on after a moment of shaking and shaking, and wincing at all the sand that falls out, but he’s right back to where he was—that is, he has no idea where he’s going.

Okay, a vague one. Percy wants to be at the beach, it’s… comforting. Especially now.

So the beach he goes!

He can’t find a place to sit down.

Maybe…. close to the water? That way, if anything tries to sneak up on him…. okay, yeah, mind made up.

Scanning the beach, he spots the perfect place—it even has a rock that he can put his shoes on, yes—and begins to jog right over.

Then, when he gets to it, with all the fanfare he can manage (which is to say, absolutely none), he flops right down onto the sand.

Not a good idea, by the way.

Yeah, you know how he was talking about sand getting everywhere?

He spits up sand. Gapes and frantically tries to get any out of his hair (he just took a shower, come on, dude. Spare him!) Eventually decides that tonight will be a double shower night, and goes back to laying sprawled out on the beach.

Admittedly…. he’s really tired. And the gentle sounds of the waves very nearly lull him to sleep.

So he pries those eyelids back open and stares into the sky.

It does remind him, though, of something his mom used to do—and, ah, does that remind him of why he came out here! His heart twists a little, and he reaches up to lay a hand over his chest.

Still….

When he was a kid, she used to put on this playlist—something called “Ocean Sounds To Sleep To, Ten Hours Long”?

It worked wonders, no surprise there. But he thinks that her singing might have helped, too.

His mom had an amazing voice. She did! And that’s not even his bias showing! (Okay, maybe a little.)

She always sung (sings, she always sings) so gently and…. melodically. It’s wonderful to listen to. Percy is more than grateful he got to hear it so many times.

Again, his heart sinks, and twists, and his face scowls.

He’ll hear it again.

He will, this is a promise he’s making. He will not let the Gods keep her, and he will not let them take her ever again.

Once this whole—thing is over with, he can go home to his mom, Smelly Gabe won’t be there, and….

She’ll hug him. And hold him. And won’t let go.

And he’ll hug her back. And hold her. And refuse to let go.

And she’ll sing, but there won’t be any waves to accompany it, but that’s okay because she has an amazing voice and—

Percy rubs at his eyes.

She’ll sing that one lullaby he liked, about that one hero who always got a happy ending. He had a name like Percy’s.

She sung it to him a lot, and he thought it was a little corny at first (really, he got the meaning behind it really early. He also did cry over his mom wishing he got a happy ending as well, even if he was a little confused.)

And it’ll be great.

No gods, no weird quest, no Gabe.

Just them.

He settles back into the sand. The stars twinkle, and waves continue to fall back and crash, gentle in their movements. As if they wish to preserve this moment of peace. (Silently, he’s a little thankful.)

Percy stares at the sky a little longer, trying to see if he could make out a constellation. Then, sighing and shrugging, he closes his eyes, and listens to the ocean, the sky, the land.

It’s good. It’s…. nice.

Well, that is, until wave crashes over him.

Percy will gladly and readily admit that he loudly called his dad a bastard for putting a fish in his mouth.

[skitskatdacat63]

6, 13, and 22!

Thank you for the ask!! I am feeling very talkative and hyper atm so I am very grateful <3

6. (What do you use to keep your place when you're reading a book?)

I have very pretty bookmarks which I really love and I try to use them but I inevitably always forget. So either those, hopefully, or slips of paper, like any paper that's in my surrounding area I'll use. Or just close the book and hope I remember where I was 🫣

13. (13. Do you prefer to write in pen or pencil?)

Depends on what I'm writing! I only use pencil for taking notes in class or doing homework, bcs I always inevitably end up misspelling stuff or like just writing the completely wrong thing bcs my brain short-circuited, and I cannot stand leaving it wrong, yknow? But anything else, like jotting down stuff or my F1 note keeping lmao, I love to use pen. Pen just feels so swoopy and smooth and fun to write with and I'm very dramatic with writing(because learning Russian cursive is just permanently in my brain and handwriting now), and pen is fun bcs you can be very dramatic with it, if that makes sense?

22. (Iced or hot drinks?)

I guess somewhat depends on the weather? But cold drinks mostly! I drink a lot of hot coffee at home but if I'm out, I only drink cold drinks honestly. I am the type to buy and drink a frappuccino or something iced while outside when it's literally freezing out 😭

[fourteenfifteen]

🌻 :)

aw hi jun what’s going on dude 💕

i’ve been having a lot of fun writing original fiction recently! finished a decently long short story like two weeks ago and have been picking at a couple other things since (including that writing prompt i did on here the other day). i love writing in general like it’s very calming and satisfying and makes me happy but it’s been fun to try out something new! it’s especially cool like the freedom that it gives me like ok obviously but also yeah it’s nice that i can do literally whatever i want and all that really matters is enjoying myself and trying to make the coolest shit that i can. mixed feelings bc i haven’t actually felt super up on the quality of my work the last little while lol and original fiction does a little bit feel pointless and/or like screaming into the void compared to fanfic but also seriously it is so fun. like actually sitting and working on it and making a little story that can be whatever i want it to be. it’s good stuff. definitely bringing out my creative ambition too like i feel very playful and experimental without like the knowledge that the thing i’m working on is gonna go on ao3 lol

[sysig]

what's your favorite part about making art?

Getting it out of my head (lol)

To give a more complete answer haha, each step has its own charm! Sketching is nice to have it Out of me, alleviates the itch of having a Thought or Feeling that just needs to be Out and onto paper already

If I'm drawing digitally, lining has gotten rather meditative, or if my sketches are particularly scribbly then it's like a puzzle haha

Toning on paper is a fun exercise in tool usage - I have specific pencils I switch back and forth between to get The Effect I'm looking for, or filling in with the same pencil for the whole piece is nice to just have it done all at once, it's satisfying both ways

Editing has kinda fallen by the wayside for me lately (as evidenced by my lack of uploads - I keep wanting to share, but there's a stopper in my brain that says "No, they're Not Done!" which is like......half correct? It's done when I say it's done, but they haven't been edited "properly" so) but it also has its good points! It took a bit to find the fun again because editing is definitely Not my favourite part of the process - it's not Creative or Exciting or Expressive in the same way as the other steps but it is something I can do for my art that makes it appear how my hand, eye, and brain want it to - my hand is messy, my eye is very particular, and my brain parses between the two, takes away the lines that muddle the final image until there's only The Picture left :) And sometimes it's all I have the energy for! Sometimes all I can do is take my backlog and make it pretty rather than make something new - but it's still Making Art :)

The only part I really don't like is scanning lol, it's just annoying, why can't my pictures be uploaded in perfect quality directly from my sketchbook to my computer haha

And most of this is to do with drawing since it's still my main art form, but a lot of the same applies to writing and papercraft and whatever else I try my hand at - it's nice to Have and Do and see where it gets me :)

I'm doing well! I've been writing more than - ever? I think? I think this is officially my up-to-now peak of Finished Writing by wordcount and time spent on it lol, it's been very fun!! And also a little overwhelming haha I still haven't quite found a New Normal about it, it being The Most haha, but I want to work towards that balance! More practice means more time to implement it so lol

[carnalcrows]

HOW TO STEAL A MAN (AND HIS GROCERY LIST)

pairing: gi-hun x top male reader

synopsis: When Gi-hun’s late-night cat-feeding routine attracts a stalker with a cart full of cat food and questionable social skills, chaos—and maybe romance—ensues.

content warnings: 18+, top male reader, stalking, blowjobs (reader receiving), missionary, unprotected sex, breeding, creampie, reader wants to get gi-hun pregnant asap, age gap (reader is in his 20s and gi-hun is in his 40s).

word count: 2.2k

A/N: ty anon for the request!! i had fun writing this one

Seong Gi-hun’s life wasn’t glamorous. Every evening, after whatever sorry excuse for a day he’d had, he stopped at the corner store, bought a packet of cheap cat food, and made his way to a run-down alley to feed a scruffy stray. It was the one bright spot in his life, and he looked forward to it more than he cared to admit.

What he didn’t know was that someone else looked forward to it too.

That someone was you.

You first noticed Gi-hun a few weeks ago while wandering through the neighborhood. At first, you thought he was just some random guy lingering in the alley, but then you saw him crouch down and pour food into a chipped saucer. His voice was soft as he spoke to the stray cat, coaxing it to eat.

It was... oddly endearing.

From then on, you couldn’t help yourself. You started following him—not in a creepy way (okay, maybe a little creepy)—but you were curious. Who was this man? Why did he care so much about a stray cat?

Your fascination grew, and soon, watching him feed the cat became part of your routine. But you wanted more than to just watch. You wanted to talk to him. To know him.

One evening, as you watched Gi-hun walk into the corner store, you got an idea. A foolproof, albeit slightly unhinged, plan. You hurried inside ahead of him, grabbed every single packet of cat food off the shelf, and went to pay, ignoring the cashier’s confused look.

When Gi-hun arrived at the pet aisle, you lingered near the exit, pretending to browse.

“What the…?” Gi-hun muttered, staring at the empty shelf. He rubbed the back of his neck, sighed, and turned to leave, only to almost bump into you.

You were standing there with a massive bag filled with cat food packets.

“Oh, uh, sorry,” you said, pretending to be startled.

His eyes narrowed. “You’re the reason the shelf is empty?”

“I feed a lot of strays,” you said innocently, though the amusement in your voice probably gave you away.

Gi-hun raised an eyebrow, clearly skeptical. “You think I could buy one of those off you? There’s a stray I feed every night, and now I’m empty-handed.”

You pretended to think about it, then smiled. “I’ll give you one… if you let me come with you. I’d like to meet the cat.”

He hesitated, his lips pressing into a thin line as he considered your request. Finally, he sighed. “Fine. But don’t scare it off, okay?”

That’s how it all started.

What was supposed to be a one-time thing turned into a routine. Every evening, you’d meet Gi-hun at the corner store, walk with him to the alley, and sit on the curb while the stray cat ate. Over time, you learned bits and pieces about him: his failed marriage, his gambling problems, and most importantly, his love for his daughter, Ga-yeong.

“She’s all I have left,” he admitted one night, his voice soft.

You nodded, unsure what to say. It was clear how much he cared for her, even if he didn’t always show it in the best ways.

As weeks passed, you also got to know Ga-yeong, who was surprisingly cool for a kid. She started teasing her dad about how much time he spent with you.

“Are you two dating yet?” she asked one evening, smirking as she watched you and Gi-hun prepare dinner.

Gi-hun spluttered. “W-what? No! We’re just friends.”

“Sure, Dad,” she said, winking at you.

You laughed, enjoying how flustered he got.

One rainy evening, you were at Gi-hun’s apartment again, helping him cook dinner. The kitchen was small and cramped, but it felt cozy with the two of you working side by side.

As you chopped vegetables, you glanced at him. “You know, you’re not half bad at this.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Don’t sound so surprised.”

“I’m just saying,” you teased. “You’re full of surprises.”

Gi-hun smiled, but when he noticed you staring, his brow furrowed. “What? Do I have sauce on my face or something?”

“Nothing,” you said, setting the knife down. “I just… I’ve been wanting to do something for a while now.”

Before he could ask what, you stepped closer, your heart racing. Gi-hun froze like a deer in headlights, his hand awkwardly holding a ladle full of stew.

“What are you—”

You cupped his face with both hands and kissed him.

At first, he didn’t move, his eyes wide with surprise. But as you pressed into him, his shoulders relaxed, and the ladle clattered to the counter. Slowly, tentatively, he kissed you back, his lips warm and soft against yours.

It started gentle, careful, like he was afraid to mess it up. But as the seconds ticked by, something shifted. He leaned into you, his hands nervously gripping your waist, pulling you closer. You smiled against his lips, enjoying how hesitant he was, even as his breathing grew heavier.

“Relax,” you murmured, your lips brushing against his. “You’re doing fine.”

“I—I don’t—” he stammered, but you cut him off with another kiss, this one deeper, more insistent.

Gi-hun let out a muffled sound of surprise, his hands fumbling as they slid up your back. His inexperience was endearing, and it only made you want to kiss him harder.

Somehow, the two of you ended up pressed against the counter, the dinner long forgotten. Gi-hun’s hair was an absolute mess from your hands running through it, and his cheeks were flushed a deep red.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he muttered breathlessly, his forehead resting against yours.

“Good,” you said with a grin, leaning in to steal another kiss.

The smell of burning stew eventually snapped the two of you out of it, but not before you got one last, lingering kiss. As Gi-hun scrambled to salvage dinner, muttering curses under his breath, you leaned against the counter, watching him with a satisfied smirk.

“I like you,” you said casually, making him freeze mid-stir.

He turned to look at you, his expression somewhere between flustered and incredulous. “You think?”

“I know,” you corrected. “And I think you like me too.”

Gi-hun sighed, his lips quirking into a small, shy smile. “Yeah... maybe I do.”

You laughed, reaching out to tug him back toward you. “Good. Because I’m not going anywhere.”

Your mouth found his once more, and you slowly lifted the man onto the countertop. He yelped in surprise, and you used the opportunity to slide your tongue, relishing in how he tasted.

His hands gripped onto your shoulders, while you held his waist, steadying him. You slowly trailed butterfly kisses from his jaw to his neck, stopping at his Adam’s apple before lightly nipping on his ear lobe.

Gi-hun was still quite unsure of what he was supposed to be doing, not having engaged in such…activities for far too long.

“You do want to do this right? We can stop the moment you tell me to,” you said to him, your tone soft. After a second of pondering, he gripped your shoulders with determination, and latched his mouth right onto yours.

You took it as a sign to continue, and slowly broke away the kiss to close the stew before continuing to have your way with him.

You slowly picked him up from the countertop and carried him to the couch, revelling in how surprised you were. Carrying those giant bags of cat food was worth it.

You laid him on the couch gently, its base creaking with the sudden weight. Gi-hun hastily pushed your pants down, tugging at the strap for a few seconds before it made way. Your cock sprang out, hard and leaking.

His eyes widened, and he looked up at you. Your eyes were soft, letting him know that this didn’t have to continue if he didn’t want it to.

Before you could say anything, he licks a stripe across your length, savouring the musk emitting from the base. You let out a groan, gripping onto his hair–but not too tight; not yet.

You let him experiment with your dick, leaving small kisses along the underside, while his hand moves up to clutch your balls, heavy with your seed. He wonders to himself on how your cum would feel inside him, and the thought makes his ears burn a bright red.

“Don’t take this long darlin’, wanna please you too,” you mumble, wanting him to speed up just a little bit.

He slowly wraps his pretty lips around the tip of your cock, making you let out a garbled moan. His mouth was just so, so warm.

“Breathe through your nose baby, that’s it,”you cooed, watching him struggle to take your length all the way.

He slowly bobbed his head up and down, savouring the precum hitting the back of his throat. Your moans were getting louder and louder, to the point where you had to muffle the noises with the back of your hand. The walls of his house were quite thin.

Tears pricked at the corner of his eyes as he struggled to swallow you whole. Your grip on his hair had gotten significantly tighter, as you push his head to take you all the way. His garbled mumbles did nothing but send vibrations straight up your dick, turning you on even more.

“So good f’me baby, I’m almost done,”you groan before releasing your grip on his hair and pulling out of his warm throat, before ejaculating all over his face. 

He looked up at you in shock, his face a mixture of tears, sweat and semen. It truly was a sight to see. Your dick stood right back up.

His eyes widened, but before he could say anything, you quickly turned him around on the couch, his ass up towards you.

You pulled his pants down, along with his boxers, to reveal his tight hole, clenching around the cold air. He hissed when he suddenly felt a finger at his hole, slick with lube (where did that come from).

“This might hurt a lil’ bit,” you said before slowly pressing your finger into his hole. His back arched with the intrusion, the pain mixed with the pleasure going straight to his cock, the tip red and weeping.

You slowly added another finger, watching as his ass practically swallowed them whole as you pumped them in and out.

After adding a third finger, you deemed that he was prepped enough to be fucked. He already looked out of it, that was a different thing altogether. His shoulders were slumped and his elbows were the only thing keeping him upright.

You positioned you cock at his entrance, and slowly slid in, groaning at how tight and inviting his hole was, as if it was made just for your dick.

Gi-hun let out a loud moan, it was almost pornographic. He had never felt this full in his life– your cock was almost ripping him in half!

You bottomed out all the way to the hilt, and you slowly started to move, whispering dirty nothings in the older man’s ear.

“How does it feel, getting fucked by a man half your age, hm?” Gi-hun could only blabber at this, his brain could no longer form coherent words as his mind was so focused on how your cock was hitting the right spot with every. single. thrust.

You felt his hole mould into the shape of your cock, and every time you hit his prostate, his moans got more high pitched. One of your hands caressed his stomach, and you were surprised to find his belly bulging with every thrust. He squealed when he felt it, his brain was feeling so empty. 

“Y’know Gi-hun, your daughter must be quite lonely, considering that she is an only child. Wanna give Ga-yeong a sibling?” you teased, to which he could only moan, his head filled with the thought of you making him pregnant with your seed. The thought didn’t seem too bad.

To this, you lifted him up and sat on the couch with him on your lap, his back to your chest. You lifted his legs up in such a way that every single time you lifted him up and dropped him back on your lap, your dick would hit places he didn’t even know existed.

He threw his head back, eyes rolling to the back of his head with the vigour of your thrusts, fucking into him like you were an animal in heat. At this point, it really felt like you were trying to get him pregnant. A man couldn’t biologically get pregnant, but all rational thought had flown out the window, and who said you couldn’t try?

As your thrusts started to stutter, you knew you were at a climax, so when Gi-hun came with a cry, painting his abdomen white, you pushed into him all the way to his imaginary womb before coming undone with a loud groan, painting his gummy walls a pearly white.

You kept your cock in him for a while, letting him relax. His hole clenched and unclenched around your dick, while only spurred you on even more.

Gi-hun turned around to face you lazily, but with surprise, as he felt your cock harden in him once again.

“We can’t stop yet love, I need to give you a baby after all,” you smirked before pushing Gi-hun back down onto the couch.

He was fucked.

And somewhere out there, a stray cat was probably wondering why its dinner was late.

© carnalcrows on tumblr. Please do not steal my works as I spend time and I take genuine effort to do them.

[thedensworld]

Black Card Issue | L. Jh

Genre: fluff, est. relationship, smut

Summary: after a fight, Jihoon didn't expect to receive notifications for a revenge. However, he's not complaining.

Note: having so much fun writing this with @hoshifighting please check lyla's blog here!

Welcome to the densworld woozi🧚‍♀️

Jihoon is a chill man. Very chill. He values his peace of mind so much that no one dares disturb him when he’s in the zone, writing music. His studio is his sanctuary, a place where time stops and the world outside becomes irrelevant. No one crosses that boundary. No one—until you came into his life.

A little bundle of surprise, Jihoon would say with a soft smile. You changed everything.

You love surprises. It’s something Jihoon figured out pretty early on, back when you were just dating. And now, after years together and tying the knot, he knows it’s not just something you like—it’s a part of you. You’re the kind of person who thrives on spontaneity. The joy in your eyes when you do something unexpected, whether it’s a small gift or a sudden change of plans, has become a familiar sight. Surprises are so integral to your personality that impulsivity became second nature to you, a habit you didn’t even realize you had.

And Jihoon? Well, he’s had to become well-trained in handling it.

It wasn’t always easy, especially in the beginning. Six months into dating, Jihoon was already struggling to keep his composure around you. You were a whirlwind of energy and unpredictability, and Jihoon was the type who liked things calm and structured—especially when it came to his work. But then you would send him something, like that photo on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, just as he was about to attend a critical production meeting. A suggestive caption accompanying a picture of you that left him flushed and flustered.

He spent the rest of that day with his head spinning, barely able to focus on anything other than you.

His team noticed, of course. They always noticed when Jihoon was distracted—because it was rare. They’d been with him for over ten years, watching him pour his soul into his music, dedicated and unwavering. But you? It took you mere months to have Jihoon wrapped around your finger. And the best part? Jihoon willingly let it happen. He wanted to be wrapped around your finger.

And as much as his members teased him, he didn’t mind. Jihoon had always been the calm one, the focused one, the one who could drown out the world when he needed to. But with you, he didn’t want to drown out anything. He wanted to hear your laughter in the background while he worked. He wanted to receive those random photos in the middle of his meetings, even if they made him blush.

Now, Jihoon finds himself in his studio. Not the one at home, but the company studio. It was unusual—his fellow producers were surprised to see him there at this hour. 10 a.m.? That’s too early for Jihoon to be at work, they thought, especially since he rarely left the home studio after getting married.

“Did you two fight?” Soonyoung asked, making a quick stop before his schedule.

Jihoon didn’t answer. He simply turned the volume up, drowning out Soonyoung’s voice. Soonyoung scoffed but left, convinced that the only reason Jihoon would be at the company so early was if you two had fought. He knew Jihoon too well.

"Stop working for a while, man. Give your wife a rest," Soonyoung muttered as he left the studio. Jihoon cursed internally. How could Soonyoung read him so easily?

The truth was, last night didn’t go well. It was one of those nights Jihoon wished he could rewind—just take it all back. He came home late again, far too late. The kind of late where the house was eerily quiet, and the only light on was the one in the living room. He didn’t even realize how long he’d been working until he saw the notifications on his phone—your texts, your missed calls.

His heart sank. The guilt hit him immediately, but exhaustion numbed him from fully acknowledging it. He braced himself as he turned the knob, pushing the door open, hoping maybe you had gone to bed. But there you were, sitting on the couch, arms crossed, your phone lying idle beside you. You weren’t saying a word, but your silence screamed disappointment. And Jihoon knew—he’d screwed up again.

He paused at the doorway, waiting for you to say something, anything, but you didn’t. The air between you was suffocating, thick with unspoken words. He could feel your eyes on him, and it made his stomach twist. He hated it when you looked at him like that, like you were waiting for him to care enough to explain himself.

But instead of apologizing, instead of doing what he knew he should have done, Jihoon snapped.

"I work for you! I work hard to afford the life you want! Why don’t you understand?!" His voice rose, frustration dripping from every word. He didn’t mean it to come out that way. He didn’t mean to make it sound like you were the problem, like you were the one pushing him to the edge. But in that moment, he was too overwhelmed to control it.

The silence that followed was deafening. He saw the way your face fell, the way your shoulders slumped as if his words had physically weighed you down. You didn’t even argue back. You just stood there, absorbing the blow, your eyes wide and hurt, like you couldn’t believe the person you loved could say something so cruel. Jihoon could see it—the disappointment, the pain, the betrayal in your eyes.

He knew you weren’t with him for his money. He knew that from the start. You never cared about his fame, his success. You never asked for lavish gifts or expensive things. What you wanted—what you always asked for—was him. His time. His presence. But Jihoon, in his frantic rush to meet deadlines and exceed expectations, had forgotten.

He was so tired. The stress had piled up to the point that it felt like he was suffocating under the weight of everyone’s demands. His work was relentless, the pressure from his team to deliver perfection was unending, and somewhere along the way, he started feeling less like a person and more like a machine. And in all of that, he had forgotten you were the one person who treated him like a human being. The only person who reminded him to eat, to sleep, to rest.

But last night, Jihoon saw something in your eyes he never wanted to see again—pain. He had hurt you, and the worst part was, you didn’t deserve it.

You didn’t even say a word as you left the room, walking away with that shattered expression on your face. He stood there, frozen, wanting to chase after you, to take back everything he’d said, but he couldn’t move. He couldn’t think straight. The weight of everything felt too much.

Jihoon ended up sleeping in his home studio that night, staring blankly at his laptop screen, his mind racing with regret. He didn’t get any work done. How could he? All he could think about was the way you looked at him, the way your lips trembled like you were fighting back tears, the way you didn’t even argue because you were too hurt to speak. He hated himself for it.

The guilt gnawed at him all night, so by the time morning came, he couldn’t bear to be in the same house. He thought if he went to the company studio, if he just got out, maybe it would clear his head. Maybe he could focus on work and forget how badly he had messed up.

But he couldn’t. You were all he could think about. Even surrounded by equipment and projects, even as he tried to drown himself in work, his thoughts kept drifting back to you. The regret kept replaying in his mind like a broken record, and the truth settled in his chest like a lead weight—he could never stop thinking about you. He never could.

And now, sitting alone in the company studio, he could still see your face in his mind, the hurt he had caused, and it tore him apart.

"Jihoon…" His manager knocked on the door, pulling Jihoon from his deep focus. He turned his head toward the reflection in the glass and saw someone entering. Quickly, he put down his headphones.

"The bank called me," his manager said, concern lacing his voice. "Someone's been making a lot of purchases with your account, and they couldn’t reach you. So, I got worried."

Jihoon blinked, realization dawning as he remembered he had turned off his phone earlier to avoid distractions. He hurriedly switched it back on, and as expected, notifications flooded his screen. Among them were a surprising number of texts from you.

Curious, Jihoon opened your messages, and his eyes widened. You had sent him a series of photos—shopping bags piled high, receipts for luxury items, and then… a car. You bought a car?

Jihoon sighed, rubbing his temples as he scrolled through the notifications of credit charges—clothes, electronics, and more. Why did you decide to buy all of this in one day?

"Everything’s fine. It’s just… my wife," Jihoon said, a little embarrassed as he reassured his manager. "No one’s using my card without permission."

His manager chuckled, seeming relieved, before leaving Jihoon alone with his thoughts.

Just as Jihoon exhaled, another text popped up. A photo of you in a jacuzzi, clearly in some luxurious hotel, wearing a brand new red bikini. The caption that followed made Jihoon’s breath hitch.

You: Want to give me the life I want? Come here. Turns out, spending your money doesn’t satisfy me enough.

Jihoon sighed deeply, his face growing warm as he hurriedly turned off everything in his studio. It was no use—he’d have to go get his black card back from you. Or maybe get something else.

*

You feel the dash of cold air hit your skin as you lay back against the heated tiles of the jacuzzi, legs lazily draped over the edge. You can’t help the little smirk pulling at your lips as you scroll through Jihoon’s texts. He’s gonna kill you. Well, maybe not kill, but he’ll definitely be pissed off. The shopping spree, the car, the photos—God, you knew exactly what you were doing. Pressing his buttons like that, getting him riled up on purpose, all because he had the audacity to shout at you last night.

But, you’re done with his bullshit excuses. He can whine about deadlines and stress all he wants, but you’re not here for that. You’re here for him, and clearly, he needs a little reminder.

The door to the hotel room opens, and even with the sound of the jacuzzi jets bubbling, you hear it. He’s here. Your heart skips a beat as the familiar, steady thud of Jihoon’s shoes echo in the space. He doesn’t say anything at first, but you can feel the burden of his stare on you, heavy and unrelenting. His presence is like a storm, silent but brewing.

You stretch your arms above your head, not even looking up, knowing full well he’s staring.

“Took you long enough,” You hum, voice saturated by fake innocence, like you hadn’t been the one who set the whole thing in motion. “figured you’d be quicker if i spent a little more of your money.”

Silence.

Then, the sound of him setting something down—his keys? maybe his bag? You don’t care. You hear the shuffle of his shoes being kicked off, and that’s when you finally open your eyes.

Jihoon stands at the edge of the jacuzzi, arms crossed, jaw tight, his eyes dreary and locked onto you.

“You’ve got some nerve,” he finally speaks, voice low, a growl almost. “what do you think you’re doing?”

You shrug, acting like you don’t feel the tension. “Just giving myself a little treat. After all, i am your wife. Don’t i deserve the best?”

Jihoon doesn’t say anything, just stares at you for a moment longer before his hands move to his belt. Your eyes widen, mouth parting slightly. “Oh, you think this is funny? You think you can just spend my money, send me those pictures, and i’ll come running?”

“Well, you did come running…” You mumble as if you were talking to yourself.

Jihoon moves, and before you know it, he’s crouched beside the jacuzzi, fingers hooking into the strap of your bikini top, pulling you closer to him with little resistance. “You know,” he murmurs, his voice rough, “this is the last thing you’ll be wearing tonight.”

Before you can even form a reply, he tugs at the fabric, and the red bikini snaps, tearing with a sharp rip.

Jihoon stands back up, the smirk on his face teasing you in a way that gets under your skin. His hand casually tosses the torn bikini top aside like it’s nothing, he looks at you, riling you up on purpose. He doesn’t rush; he takes his time pulling off his shirt, his pants.

You narrow your eyes, trying to keep the annoyance in check, but he’s pushing your buttons. “Really?” you ask. “You had to rip it off just to mess with me? You’re such an asshole”

“Yeah?” he murmurs, taking a step closer until he's right in front of you again. He leans down, pushing you back into the jacuzzi, the water sloshing as your back hits the edge. “You look mad, but I bet you’re dripping right now.”

You can even think of a response, his hand slips into your bikini bottoms just as he sits down. His fingers brush lightly over your clit, not applying pressure, just teasing, circling it slow just to watch you squirm. You twitch under his touch, your legs parting on instinct, hips bucking just slightly. He’s not giving you enough, and he knows it.

“You like to play these games, baby?” he murmurs. “Teasing me, spending all my money. What’s the real reason, huh? Just wanted my attention this bad?”

You bite back a moan, refusing to let him win so easily. “Shut up,” you manage to grit out, but the breathlessness in your voice betrays you. His thumb starts rubbing a little harder, making the bud throb on his thumb. You feel your body arching toward him, a needy moan escaping despite yourself.

“No...” he leans down, his lips brushing against your ear. “I wanna hear you say it. You knew I’d come running, right?”

His fingers press harder now, slipping lower, teasing your entrance without pushing in. Your hands grip the edge of the tub, eyes rolling back slightly as he continues torturing you.

“You’re so fucking annoying,” you hiss, your words catching in your throat as his fingers pick up the tempo. He’s still circling, still rubbing, but it’s not nearly enough. You need more, and he knows it.

“Oh, I’m annoying?” he growls softly, leaning his weight into you, fingers pressing harder, deeper, but still not giving you what you need. “What’s annoying is you buying cars and booking hotels like you don’t already have everything you want right here.”

Your legs spread wider, hips instinctively grinding down against Jihoon’s fingers as they tease your entrance. Your hand shoots up to grip his wrist, trying to gude his fingers in, but he stills the arm, cupping you. His other hand trails up your chest, stopping to toy with your nipples, flicking and squeezing them just enough to make you gasp. Then, wetting the valley of your breasts, his hand moves to your throat, wrapping around it in a firm grip, pushing your head back until it rests on the cold border of the jacuzzi.

“You’re so needy,” Jihoon mutters, watching as your mouth falls open, eyes half-lidded, breath coming out in shallow pants. You feel his thumb graze over your bottom lip, smirking as if he’s amused by just how desperate you’ve become. He hasn’t even given you what you want yet, but you’re already a mess for him.

Finally, his fingers push inside, just one at first, but the way your body responds—instantly clenching, your pussy practically swallowing his finger whole—makes him groan low in his throat. The water ripples around the two of you, splashing lightly against your skin as his movements grow rougher.

“God, you’re soaked,” he chuckles, voice almost mocking as his finger curls inside you, hitting that sweet spot making your hips jerk by their own. Even with the water swirling around, Jihoon can feel the heat between your thighs, the sticky slickness of your folds clinging to his fingers as he slides in another.

Your grip tightens on his wrist, trying to pull him closer, but he doesn't let up. Instead, his fingers work you harder, pumping in and out of you making the water splash with every push. The sound is obscene, the wet slaps of his fingers echoing in the room, blending with your suffered moans, and Jihoon's grunts.

You lift your gaze to him, lips parted, eyes pleading, practically begging for more. You look up at Jihoon with a needy expression that you know drives him crazy. But he just grins, slowing his movements slightly, his hand tightening around your throat.

“Aww, look at you,” he coos, voice soft despite the way his fingers are fucking into you hard, relentless. “Such a pretty little mess. You like this, don’t you? Me ruining you with just my fingers?”

You can’t form words, your head tilting back more as his pace quickens again, fingers curling deep, hitting the spongy spot that makes your vision blur. The water splashes harder now, droplets spilling over the edge of the tub as your hips buck in time with his thrusts. Your legs tremble, thighs shaking, and all you can manage is a soft whimper, your entire body arching toward him.

Jihoon chuckles again, watching you fall apart beneath him. “That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, fingers pumping in and out faster, thumb rubbing over your clit in quick circles. “You’re so fucking tight… taking it so well. What do you want, huh? You want more?”

Your breath catches in your throat, his words making your body ache. You nod frantically, too overwhelmed to say anything. The hand around your throat loosens slightly, giving you a moment to breathe, but he doesn’t stop. His fingers continue their brutal pace, fucking you deep, and you know he’s not stopping until you cum around his long fingers.

You feel your stomach flip when Jihoon curls his fingers and stills them, making your body arch off the jacuzzi edge as you instinctively reach for him, grabbing a fistful of his hair and pulling him down to kiss you.

The kiss is brutish, dirty—his lips smashing into yours, teeth clashing as his tongue slips into your mouth. He sucks your tongue hard, biting down on your bottom lip in that way that always makes your legs tremble. You can’t focus, the pleasure building too fast, making it impossible to keep up with the kiss. But you try, you desperately try, your hands clutching tighter in his hair.

It’s only a matter of seconds before your body betrays you. You moan into his mouth, the sound low and drawn out, muffled by the kiss. You pull him closer, your grip tightening painfully in his hair as the pleasure crests, your body trembling as your back arches impossibly high.

Your nipples graze his chest, the sensation of your sensitive skin brushing against his, makes him shiver, his breath hitching as your slick cunt clenches hard around his fingers.

Your moans become more frantic, desperate, and you can’t keep kissing him anymore. Your mouth falls open, head tilting back as you gasp for air, your body seizing up with the strength of your orgasm.

Your pussy tightens around his fingers, your thighs shaking uncontrollably as you cum, the water splashing violently around you from the press of your movements. Jihoon smirks down at you, clearly proud of himself, fingers still thrusting into you even as you come down from your high. “That’s it, baby,” he murmurs, voice soft but teasing. “Cum all over my fingers.”

Your mind is still swimming in the hangovers of your orgasm when Jihoon suddenly pulls his hand away. You’re left panting, trying to catch your breath, but he’s already manhandling you, turning you around and pressing you into the edge of the tub.

“Get on all fours,” he orders. You don’t hesitate, your body moving on autopilot as you shift into position, knees pressing into jacuzzi, hands bracing yourself against the edge.

Jihoon’s grip is firm as he presses you down, making sure you don’t slip on the slick surface. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you steady while he strokes himself behind you. You glance back, seeing him gripping his cock, pumping himself slowly, the tip flushed red and dripping with pre-cum, some veins popping up when he cuts the blood circulation. The sight makes your mouth water.

He lines himself up with you, the head of his cock teasing your wet pussy, but he doesn’t push in just yet. Instead, he grabs your bikini bottom—what’s left of it anyway—and yanks it harshly to the side, exposing your swollen, sensitive folds. You feel the fabric digging into your skin, tight and uncomfortable.

Jihoon watches, mesmerized, as your pussy clenches around nothing, your body still sensitive from your previous orgasm. Slowly Jihoon pushes inside. He takes his time, savoring the way your walls squeeze around him, they way you slick starts to coat him too, your body struggling to accommodate his size. You whimper, fingers clawing at the edge of the tub, trying to keep yourself stable as he fills you inch by inch.

He moans deep in his throat, the sound oscillating through his chest as he bottoms out, his cock buried fully inside you.

You bite your lip, arching your back even more, desperate to take him deeper. “Jihoon… please…”

But he just chuckles darkly, pulling out slowly, only to slam back in, making the water splash around you both again. “Oh, you’ll get what you want,” he promises. “Just keep taking it like that.”

His fingers tangle in your hair, tugging hard enough to make you gasp. The sharp pull has you arching back, your spine curving as he yanks you up against his chest, your back pressing flush against his front. The new angle makes his cock hit even deeper, your breath hitching as the tip grazes that swollen spot inside you.

Jihoon glances at the nearby mirror, his eyes glued to the reflection of your bodies. Your tits bounce with every thrust, soft and flushed, his eyes darken, watching the way your skin sticks to his, the way your body—though trembling—melts against him, sacrificing to the pleasure despite every nerve in your body wanting to tense up.

He moans suffered, his forehead dropping to your shoulder, feeling the warmness radiating off your skin. You’re burning up, both of you are, your bodies slick with sweat despite being submerged in water seconds after. Jihoon can’t help but bury his face against your neck, breathing you in, skin to skin, letting the sensation take over him.

“Fuck,” he mumbles against your shoulder, his lips brushing your skin, almost as if he's talking to himself. “I missed this. Missed you.”

His hips don’t stop, driving into you harder, your thighs shaking as you try to keep up, but your body is already on the edge. You’re clinging to him for dear life, your head falling back against his shoulder, mouth falling open as breathless moans slip out with every thrust.

“I’m sorry,” Jihoon suddenly murmurs, his voice softer now, tender. He keeps thrusting into you, but there’s an apology laced in every word, every snap of his hips. “I’m so fucking sorry… for everything.”

You don’t answer, can’t even if you wanted to. Your breath is caught in your throat, the only response you give is the way your body clings to his, melting further into his hold as his hands roam down your body.

He doesn’t expect you to answer. Maybe he doesn’t even need you to. He just keeps going, fucking into you like he’s trying to apologize through the way his body moves against yours. His grip loosens in your hair, his hand sliding down the curve of your waist, lower, until his fingers find the puffy bundle of nerves between your legs.

The second his fingers brush over your clit, your whole body tenses again, only to relax almost instantly as he starts rubbing teasing circles. You whimper, legs trembling, hardly competent to hold yourself up, and Jihoon groans into your skin, feeling the way you melt even more against him.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” he breathes, his voice raspy in your ear. “Always take me so well… fuck… so tight, baby… you feel that? You’re clenching around me.”

You don’t say anything, just a soft gasp escapes your lips, your head falling back further onto his shoulder, exposing the column of your throat to him. His fingers quicken their pace, matching the rhythm of his thrusts, every brush of his thumb over your swollen clit making you cry out.

“I know I fucked up,” Jihoon whispers, his forehead still pressed to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. "But I can’t stop… I can’t stop thinking about you. About this. About how good you feel around me.”

Your chest heaves with each breath, your thighs trembling uncontrollably as his hand continues working you, his other arm wrapping around your waist to hold you tighter, anchoring you to him. His fingers press harder against your clit, drawing tight circles that make your whole body twitch, every nerve ending alive and buzzing.

“Come on, baby,” he coaxes, his voice dipping into that familiar, filthy tone, the one that drives you insane. “Cum for me… I know you’re close. I can feel it. You’re squeezing me so fucking tight.”

You’re so close, your vision blurring as the heat in your core builds higher. Your body’s completely given in to him, to the way he’s fucking you deep and hard while his fingers expertly play with your clit, not giving you a single moment of respite.

And then it hits, hard and fast. Your back arches, body tensing as the orgasm rips through you, ripple after ripple of pleasure crashing over you as your pussy clenches tight around him. Your hands reach back, desperately grabbing at anything—his hair, his arms—trying to ground yourself as you moan out his name, breathless and trembling.

Jihoon groans at the feeling, his cock throbbing inside you as your walls pulse around him. “Fuck… that’s it,” he rasps, his hand slowing its movements on your clit, letting you ride out your high. He’s still buried deep inside you, his cock twitching, and he watches in the mirror as your body shudders against his.

He doesn’t pull out. Instead, he shifts you forward, placing you on all fours again, his hands steadying you as he lines himself up once more. His hand slides down to your ass, pushing your bikini bottom further to the side so he can watch as your tight puffy walls flutter around him.

Without delay, he starts thrusting again, his pace slow but deep, watching as your body tenses, clenching around him every time he sinks in.

Jihoon lets out a series of the neediest, whiniest moans you've ever heard from him, and it hits you differently—vulnerable, like you’ve broken through every layer he keeps guarded.

Then he sinks in fully and stops.

You slouch forward, your whole body going limp as you brace yourself on your forearms. You feel him pressed against your back, the warmth of his skin sticking to yours as his breath hitches in your ear.

And then it fills you—heat as his cum spurts deep inside you. Hot, thick, and it has you crying out, your voice breaking as your body quakes beneath him. You can feel every pulse of his cock as he fills you up, making your insides feel impossibly full.

Your back trembles under his weight, every muscle in your body quivering as his release continues to flood you. Your pussy clenches around him involuntarily, trying to milk every last drop from him, and it only makes him groan louder.

“Shit,” Jihoon breathes, his voice a wrecked, breathy mess as he leans forward, his forehead pressing into the back of your neck. His hands grip your hips tightly, like he’s using you to anchor himself through the intensity of his orgasm. “Fuck… you feel s'good.”

Your head drops onto your forearm, unable to do anything but take it all in. You can feel his cum dripping out of you, a warm, slick sensation as it mixes with the water around your thighs. Your legs are shaking, your core aching, but you don’t want him to pull out, you want to stay like this, to feel him deep inside you just a little longer.

Jihoon’s breathing finally starts to slow, his body still pressed flush against yours as his arms snake around your waist, holding you tight. You hum softly in response, his cum continues to spill out, and you can feel every slow drip as your pussy flutters, trying to recover from the relentless pounding he just gave you.

He pulls back slightly, just enough to glance down at the sight of your trembling back. A soft smirk tugs at his lips as he watches how your body reacts to him, still sensitive, still on edge. “Look at you,” he whispers, his tone soft but teasing. “You’re still shaking. Did I fuck you that good?”

You don’t answer him; just let out a shaky breath. Your body is completely spent, and you can narrowly keep yourself upright. Jihoon chuckles softly, pressing a kiss to your damp skin before pulling out slowly, the loss of him leaving you feeling empty and aching. The last bit of his cum leaks out of you as he does, and he watches, fascinated, as it mixes with the water beneath you.

He moves to your side, pulling you into his chest, his hands rubbing gentle circles on your back as you both come down from the high.

Jihoon gently lifted you from the jacuzzi, his hands steady as he wrapped a robe around your body, drying you with care. His touch was soft, and the tension between you started to ease with each moment. He laid you down on the bed with tenderness, his eyes flickering with a mix of concern and regret.

As he stepped away to quickly clean himself up, you could feel the weight of his emotions lingering in the air. When he returned, Jihoon slid into bed beside you, pulling you into his arms, his warmth pressing against your skin. His embrace was tight but comforting, as though he was trying to hold on to more than just the moment.

"I'm sorry..." His voice was barely above a whisper, yet the sincerity in it was undeniable. He rested his forehead gently against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the quiet space between you. "Please forgive me."

You could feel the vulnerability in his words, a side of Jihoon that he rarely showed.

You lay there in his arms, feeling the tension in his body slowly release as he held you close. His apology lingered in the air, filled with emotion you hadn’t heard from him before. For a moment, everything was quiet—the warmth of his skin, the sound of your breathing, and the beating of his heart against yours.

Jihoon pulled back slightly, his eyes searching yours for any sign of forgiveness. His brows furrowed, and he seemed almost afraid of what you might say. You reached up, your fingers brushing against his cheek, the familiar sensation calming you both.

“I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” you whispered, the weight of the past argument starting to lift. “But it’s hard sometimes, Jihoon. You get so lost in your work…”

He nodded, the regret still heavy in his gaze. "I know. I promise I'll do better. I can't stand the thought of losing you, or pushing you away."

His words tugged at your heart, and you could see how much he meant it. There had always been that side of him—driven, focused, and dedicated—but sometimes it made him forget everything else. Still, here he was, trying, apologizing, and making the effort to put you first.

Without saying anything, you leaned in, closing the distance between you, your lips brushing his in a soft kiss. Jihoon sighed against your mouth, relief and gratitude flooding through him as he deepened the kiss, his arms tightening around you as though he couldn’t bear to let go.

When you finally pulled away, your foreheads touched again, both of you breathing a little more steadily now.

“I forgive you,” you said softly. His eyes brightened at your words, and you felt the tension finally melt away completely. Jihoon smiled, a rare, gentle one that you didn’t see often enough, and he pressed a kiss to your forehead.

“Thank you,” he whispered, pulling you closer again, as though he couldn’t get enough of having you in his arms.

*

Jihoon sighed deeply as he glanced around your living room, cluttered with bags and boxes of things you'd bought earlier that day. His eyes scanned the array of items before he asked, half-jokingly, “Is it even possible to empty my bank account in a single day?”

You smiled, shaking your head as you tried to ease his worry. “Don’t stress. I can sell them all on the marketplace. They’ll be gone in two days, tops. I promise.”

Jihoon raised an eyebrow and picked up one item that particularly caught his attention—a pair of leopard-printed underwear for men. He held it up with a bemused expression, “Leopard print... for me?”

You grinned mischievously, “Yup! Oh, and I got you the hot pink one, too. Thought you’d look great in it.”

Jihoon groaned, his face a mix of amusement and disbelief. “You know it was a joke when everyone said i wear these kind of panties, right? There’s no way I’d ever wear these.”

You crossed your arms, stepping closer with a playful smirk on your face. “Oh, I can make you wear them,” you teased, your tone light but daring.

Jihoon chuckled, shaking his head at your persistence. “Is that a challenge?”

“Maybe,” you replied, your grin widening. “I have my ways. Just wait until you see how good you look in them.”

He rolled his eyes, but a small smile tugged at his lips. “You’re impossible.”

You stepped even closer, standing on your toes to whisper in his ear, “You’ll thank me later.”

Jihoon’s laughter filled the room as he pulled you into a hug, shaking his head. “You never give up, do you?”

“Never,” you said, wrapping your arms around him. "And trust me, you’ll look amazing in leopard print."

With a defeated sigh, Jihoon gave you one more playful glare, “Fine. But don’t think this means I’m wearing the hot pink ones too.”

“We’ll see about that,” you replied, your voice full of challenge and laughter as you leaned into his embrace.

[rosylix]

Hii! I've never requested but I can't get this idea out of my mind..

So basically Felix and reader have been college roommates for a year or two but Felix ends up falling for them and has to tell them cos it’s only a few months till graduation.

Totally understand if you can't do it, but thought I'd ask!

everglow

𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝒸𝓊𝓁𝒶𝓇 𝒹𝒾𝒶𝓂𝓸𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓮𝓍𝓉𝓇𝒶 𝓈𝓅𝓮𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓁

your best friend and roommate is acting especially sentimental tonight. you try to get to the bottom of it

pairing: felix × gn!reader

wc: 6.3k

content: college au, friends to lovers, feelings realization, shy felix, oblivious reader, they're nerds, fluff, light angst, crying?, pouty lix, kissing, mildly suggestive?, hopeful ending

a/n: my first fulfilled request?? i apologize if this was sitting in my inbox for forever.. i wasn't planning on writing a whole thing but then suddenly. i had an epiphany. ty for helping me out of writers block anon 🫶 i hope this is kinda how you were envisioning it!

[also read on ao3]

—

Your college dorm is a familiar sight, the mess of papers and coffee cups giving away the fact that the end of the year is fast approaching. You've been sharing this space with Felix for the past couple years, both of you working hard to keep your grades up and—hopefully, somehow—graduate?

…You're sure it'll be fine. As long as you do well enough on your capstone project, which is why you're sitting at Felix's desk, dutifully researching. Sometimes you take to his room when you need a change of scenery or just want company; though it's just you right now as Felix had to leave for class earlier.

You're just about to take a stretch break when you hear the front door open and soon enough, Felix trudges into the room. “Still here?” he says when he sees you.

“Unfortunately.” You set your things down and look over at him with a long sigh to convey your exhaustion.

“Dude, same,” he groans, tossing his bag on the floor before flopping down on his bed. “I don't think I've ever been so fucking tired in my life. Why did I pursue higher education again?”

That gets you to laugh a little. “Maybe for some kind of high-paying job and… a sense of accomplishment?” you suggest.

He lets out another groan, rolling over on his side. “But at what fucking cost? Sleep deprivation and a caffeine addiction?” He looks at you with wide, pleading eyes. “Remind me why I'm doing this again.”

You get up and walk over to his bed, sitting down on the edge next to him, a playful smile on your face. “Well, I seem to recall someone who said they wanted to be some hot shot computer engineer.”

He props himself up on one elbow to face you. “Ooh, you think I'm hot?” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

You give him a look that hopefully conveys how much of an idiot you think he is. “Hot shot, dumbass.” 

…Still, it would be dishonest to disagree: your roommate is attractive. Anyone with a working set of eyes can see that.

“Ohh, I see. You think I'm hot shit?”

You roll your eyes so far back it almost hurts. “As if you don't hear that enough.”

He grins, clearly amused and clearly not above shamelessly fishing for compliments. “Oh, but it's so much more fun to hear it from you,” he teases, leaning back against his pillow.

You give him a withering glare but he just reaches out and pats the spot next to him on the bed. “Come sit down.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “I am literally sitting down.”

“Okay, well, closer, genius.”

You sigh exaggeratedly, but you humor him anyway, scooting over closer to where he's lounging on the bed. You thought that was enough, but this is Felix, and you should have known better. He reaches out and grabs your wrist, gently but firmly tugging you down next to him.

He shifts so he's on his side facing you and grins, clearly satisfied. His hair is messy and there's a hint of dark circles under his eyes, but he still manages to look unfairly attractive.

You shake your head at his antics and let out a long sigh. “Well… You've already made it this far, you know,” you tell him. “Only a few months left of dealing with school, and then you're done.”

“...Yeah.”

He's quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting across your face, a hint of something almost like melancholy in his eyes.

“Why am I kinda sad, though?” he finally asks with a chuckle.

You blink. “Sad? About being done with school?”

He nods. “I mean, I want to be done, god, believe me I do, but…” He blows out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I dunno, it just doesn't feel as good as I expected it to. And I'm…” He pauses, clearly thinking his words over.

“I'm… gonna miss this, honestly. A lot.”

“This?” You gesture around the room. "You're going to miss this? Our tiny-ass, overpriced apartment?"

He laughs at that. “Not this place, I guess.”

“Then? The constant lack of sleep? Exams? The shitty cafeteria food?”

“Please,” Felix scoffs before taking a deep breath, looking somewhere behind you. “I'm… going to miss this." He looks back at you and pokes your shoulder for emphasis. “This. Us living together. Hanging out all the time. I'm going to miss that.”

You blink, a little taken aback at his earnestness. “Oh,” you say intelligently. “Yeah. I…”

You try to ignore the way your heart is suddenly in your throat. In truth, you've been doing your best not to think about it, how things will inevitably change after graduation.

“I mean…” you start. “It's not like we're never going to see each other again or something. We'll keep in touch, right?” But even as you say it, you feel yourself deflating. It’s not the same.

His expression reflects yours, his smile soft but a little sad around the edges. “...Of course we will.” He sounds like he's saying it as much to himself as he is to you. 

He's silent for another moment, his fingers gently running over the blanket, not quite meeting your gaze.

“It won't… be the same though,” he says, mirroring your own thoughts. “Like— you know? I'm gonna miss the convenience store we always go to at 2AM, I'm gonna miss our late-night study sessions and the shitty coffee you make, I'm gonna miss how you always use up the hot water in the shower and your annoying alarm waking me up at fuck-ass in the morning—” He suddenly cuts off, a flush rising in his cheeks.

He turns on his back again, slinging an arm over his eyes. “Ugh, I don't know, just shut up and let me wallow in my feelings.”

You're honestly a little speechless. All that, things he claims are annoying — he's going to miss it all that much?

“Hey,” you say gently, nudging his shoulder. “Hey, you sap, look at me.”

“No. I'm wallowing.”

You roll your eyes. “I can see that.” You poke his arm. Then again, harder. “Come on, look at me.”

Felix huffs dramatically, lowering his arm and turning his head to look at you from the corner of his eye. “What? I’m looking.”

Your heart clenches at the sight of him. He's pouting, looking a little petulant but still so endearingly cute, and you can definitely see the hint of embarrassment in his gaze as he peeks at you.

You let a smile spread across your face. “You're gonna miss me.”

Felix averts his gaze, his cheeks going a little pinker. “I mean, a little, I guess,” he mumbles, before letting out a heavy, dramatic sigh. “Ugh, why are you looking at me like that? Don't let it go to your head or anything.”

It's so obvious that it's more than just a little — but you decide not to call him out on it. Instead, you lean forward, propping yourself up with one arm. “Too late,” you tease, grinning widely. “You're gonna miss me so much.”

He groans, throwing his forearm over his eyes again. "Whatever. Shut up.”

You look at him silently for a moment, taking in his flushed face and his messy hair. God, he's so cute. You've always been aware of how pretty he is, but there's something about seeing him like this, completely unguarded and vulnerable, that's making your lungs feel tight.

You clear your throat awkwardly, shifting your gaze away from him. “Hey, come on, cheer up.”

“No,” he says, still hiding his face behind his arm. “I'll just lay here and wallow and die."

“So dramatic,” you chide, poking his side roughly, trying to distract yourself from your own thoughts. You're starting to feel a little flustered too.

He whines at the contact, swatting at your hand, but you notice he hasn't moved his other arm away from his face. “Ow, hey, violence,” he complains, curling away from your fingers. “Ow, ow, dude—”

You reach out and grab his wrist, pulling his hand away from his face. He lets out a half-hearted protest, but doesn’t get the chance to resist.

Oh. His eyes are shining.

You freeze. 

He's pouting again, but it's less childish now and more vulnerable, embarrassed. For a moment you just sort of stare, suddenly hyper-aware of how close the two of you are. His face is so close, so pretty, and your heart is doing something strange, beating rapidly in your chest.

“You’re—” You clear your throat, struggling with what to say. You… hadn’t realized how much this was impacting him.

He looks away and blinks hard, but his eyes are still a bit misty, unshed tears stubbornly sticking to his eyelashes. “Sorry. I'm being stupid,” he finally says, his voice a little quiet. “Ignore me, I'm just being weird, it's—” He swallows. “...I'm tired.”

Oh, god. You've been joking and teasing and making fun, but now you just feel like the biggest jerk, because he's actually really upset about this.

“Wait, no,” you murmur, suddenly serious. “No, it’s not— You're not being stupid. I—” You're having a lot more trouble than usual forming coherent sentences.

Your hand is still around his wrist, your fingers pressing against his pulse point. You squeeze it lightly. “It's okay.” You can feel the rapid beating of his heart, in contrast to the rest of him lying completely still. “It's not stupid. I’m— I'm gonna miss you too, idiot.”

He lets out a wet sounding laugh at that, rolling his eyes, but he doesn’t pull his arm away from your grip. “So mean,” he says. “Do you have to insult me to say nice things?”

“Well, yeah.”

The corners of his mouth twitch and you feel a bit of relief that you've managed to cheer him up a little.

“But you mean it?” He looks up at you with a shy expression. “You're gonna miss me?”

“Of course,” you say, suddenly struck by how much you mean it. “Yeah, I am. A lot.”

He lets out a low breath, eyes flicking over your face. “Yeah?” he says quietly. 

It's silent for a moment. Felix is still looking at you, a little shyly, and it's driving you a little crazy. He sighs, his brow pinched slightly, like he’s struggling with some internal conflict. You wait patiently, giving him space to express what he wants to say.

But he doesn't. Just averts his eyes and blinks harshly at the wall behind you.

“Please don't cry or I'll start crying too,” you say with a bit of a nervous laugh.

Felix lets out a shaky breath. “...I’m not going to cry.”

You give him a look. 

“I’m not,” he insists, using his free hand to rub his eyes. “I have allergies or something, I just— I—”

He hesitates, clearly trying to gather his thoughts. 

“Okay, look,” he sits up, pulling his wrist free from your grip and taking a deep breath. “It's just— I…” He stops, running a hand through his hair nervously. 

“Felix?” you ask, sitting up too. You're starting to get a little concerned. Why is the mood suddenly so weird?

He groans, burying his face in his hands, his voice muffled when he speaks. “This is embarrassing.”

It doesn't help your concern. “What’s embarrassing?” you ask carefully, trying to keep your voice steady.

“This,” he mutters, still hiding his face.

You hesitate a moment, not really knowing what to do, before tentatively reaching out and touching his arm. “Um… It's fine, you can talk to me.”

He lets out a frustrated breath before finally looking at you. “You’re not gonna like it.”

Oh. “Well… Did you… like, kill someone or something?”

Felix stares at you for a moment, clearly trying to keep a straight face but his lips twitch a little. “No, I didn’t kill anyone, you psychopath,” he says dryly.

“Okay, well, good,” you say, clearing your throat. “No illegal activities? The government isn't after you?”

“I… No,” he says slowly.

This conversation is taking a bizarre turn. “And you're not, like… secretly an alien sent to spy on humans this whole time? And… now you have to return to your home planet to plot the annihilation of Earth?”

That finally gets Felix to laugh. “You're— you're a fucking idiot,” he says through giggles. “Seriously.”

“I’m just checking,” you say, crossing your arms. “You're being all weird and shit and…” you gesture vaguely. “Maybe you're an alien. I don't know.”

That only sets him off giggling again. “Oh my god,” he says, leaning his forehead on your shoulder, his body shaking with laughter. “Why are you so dumb.”

You roll your eyes, just relieved to see him smile. He's much more relaxed now, the mood in the room lifted with his laughter. All part of your plan. You're more than happy to appear ridiculous if it means seeing him laugh.

He finally stops laughing, though he’s still smiling a little as he lifts his head and looks at you. He’s much closer than you anticipated, and you try not to be too distracted by the freckles around his eyes and the way his eyelashes flutter when he blinks as his gaze flicks across your face. He’s looking at you intently, and the air in the room feels charged, electric almost.

“You…” he starts, but hesitates, cutting himself off with a shake of his head. “Why are you so dumb,” he repeats.

Wow. “Now who's being mean?” you pout.

He laughs again, but it’s softer than before, a shaky, nervous sound. “God, I— this is so stupid, I—”

He lets out a frustrated breath, staring directly into your eyes, his expression intense and focused. “How do you not notice,” he mutters under his breath.

You’re frozen under his gaze, your heart suddenly in your throat. “Notice… what?”

Felix closes his eyes. “Nevermind. It doesn’t matter.”

What? “It seems like it matters since you’re…”

He opens his eyes again, looking a bit pained as he looks at you. “Just… just forget it.”

You don’t know what to say. You can feel your heart beating wildly in your chest, your hands shaking slightly. “Uh… okay,” you say. “Sorry for… being dumb…?”

He grimaces. “No, I didn't mean it like—”

He lets out a long, heavy breath, shaking his head. Then he reaches out and takes your hand, his fingers brushing against your wrist.

His voice is quieter when he speaks, looking down, idly playing with your fingers. “Just… you’re supposed to notice,” he mumbles, almost to himself. “It’s supposed to be obvious.”

You stare at him, confused and flustered and… honestly, a little distracted by how he's touching your hand. “What's… uhh, what?” Everything feels like it's too much all of a sudden, and your chest is really starting to do something weird.

He sighs. “Nevermind. Seriously.”

There's a moment of silence before he speaks again. “When we graduate,” he starts. “...Which I guess is really soon, huh.”

The way he says it makes your chest pang painfully. He’s still not looking at you. “I won’t see you anymore…” he murmurs, his voice so quiet you can barely hear him.

You grab his hand, stopping him from fiddling with your fingers, and squeeze gently. “Hey,” you say. “C’mon, it’s not like that.”

He huffs out a bitter laugh. “Isn't it, though?”

It kind of feels like you’ve been punched in the gut. This isn't like him, he's usually the one full of sunshine and optimism, reassuring you. But right now, the defeat in his voice is palpable.

The reality of the situation starts sinking in. Time’s almost up.

“Felix,” you say quietly, and he finally lifts his eyes up from his lap to look at you. His eyes are watery again.

He swallows, his voice breaking a little as he speaks. “Sorry, I’m being… I’m being unfair, I just…” He hesitates before continuing. “I don’t want to not see you.”

You frown, tears pricking your eyes now too. You don't trust your voice to speak, throat feeling tight and uncomfortable.

“And you’re just… so oblivious,” he continues, his finger tracing over your knuckles. “So stubborn, and dumb, and you’re probably the most annoying person I’ve ever met in my life and I seriously cannot believe I like—”

He cuts off suddenly, slapping a hand over his mouth.

Wait.

“Felix,” you murmur, and his eyes dart up to meet yours, a little panicked. He tries to jerk his hand away from yours, but you hold on tighter, keeping him in place.

“Felix,” you repeat, your skin buzzing from the way he’s looking at you. “You can’t just… leave me hanging like that.”

He looks away, face a brilliant crimson red. “Yeah, I can.”

You almost want to laugh. You didn’t realize he could be so shy, but you can’t focus on that now, because your heart is racing and you can’t tell if you’re going to pass out, or pass away.

“No, you can’t,” you say shakily. “When are you gonna tell me? At the commencement ceremony?”

He lets out a half-choked, almost hysterical sort of laugh, keeping his head turned away so he doesn’t have to look at you. “Yeah, something like that.”

He has to be joking. “That’s months away!”

“And?”

You shake your head, feeling dizzy. “I’m not gonna wait that long, are you insane?”

He huffs and glares at you, pouting. “Oh, well I’m sorry, would you just rather I shout it from the fucking roof tops then? Hey, everyone, I’ve been in love with my best friend since freshman year!”

What.

You blink, stunned speechless, your eyes wide. 

Your mind is spinning, the air in the room suddenly too thick to breathe. The words in love keep ringing in your ears, over and over again.

“You— you what?” you manage to get out, feeling a little faint. You must not have heard him correctly. You're hallucinating, or having a stroke or… something. He can't actually mean—

Felix winces. “...Fuck.” he mutters, dropping his head into his hands.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, brain still struggling to catch up to the situation. You’re still processing that he said the word love, when the last few words register.

“Wait— freshman year?” you say incredulously. “You’ve— since—?”

He’s clearly trying to act somewhat composed but the bright red on his ears betrays him. “Um. Yeah. Shut up. Stop talking,” he says, voice muffled from behind his hands.

You think about the past few years of your life, every interaction with him, and it’s like everything suddenly clicks into place.

The way his ears turn pink whenever you compliment him. The way you could always get under his skin so easily. You think about every time he got defensive, or huffy, or pouty at something innocuous you did or said.

…The way he's never really shown interest in anyone, despite the plenty of interest shown his way. The countless people he's turned down, for seemingly no reason. When you'd questioned him about it, he'd just laughed awkwardly and said he preferred to focus on his studies.

“Oh my god,” you say again.

Felix groans and hides his face further, his ears practically on fire. “Stop. Don't,” he mutters. “It's okay. Just… pretend you never heard that, okay, it's fine—”

“No.”

It’s silent for a moment, Felix still hiding his face, and your mind still swirling with thoughts. 

You kind of want to kiss him.

The realization is sudden, but not entirely unexpected. It’s not really a surprise, honestly, just another thing that feels natural. Maybe because deep down, of course somewhere along the line you've developed feelings for the person you can trust with anything, who gets you more than anyone else. Your favorite person in the world.

You’re only half in your right mind as you grab his wrists, pulling his hands off of his face.

“You ass,” you say, staring directly at him.

He looks at you with wide, panicked eyes. “I'm sorry—” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Can I kiss you?” 

He chokes, eyes going even wider. He opens his mouth, then closes it, clearly caught off guard. After a moment, he manages to find his voice, though it’s very high pitched and shaky. “What?”

You take a deep breath. “Can I kiss you,” you repeat, your head feeling fuzzy, your pulse pounding in your ears.

“…What?” he asks again. His face is bright red. “Are— are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” you murmur, leaning even closer, your faces almost touching.

His breath catches, and his eyes dart between your eyes and your lips. “Please say you’re not,” he manages to say, voice breaking.

“I’m not,” you say, feeling a little crazy. Insane, maybe. You can’t really bring yourself to care. “Can I?”

He doesn't give you an answer, letting out an incredulous breath before grabbing the front of your shirt and yanking you forward as he falls back so you land on top of him.

You’re about to protest at the continued lack of a clear answer, but then he’s kissing you and you forget how to speak.

It's not the most graceful kiss, you’re both a little clumsy, but it’s sweet and it’s Felix and that’s all that really matters. You figure it out quickly, getting into a rhythm, and he lets out a shaky breath against your mouth, his hand moving to tangle in your hair. You feel like you’re dreaming, or drowning, or both.

Felix is kissing you. Felix is kissing you. Your closest friend. He’s in love with you, and he’s kissing you.

It makes your head spin. After several moments, you finally pull away, panting and dizzy. You feel a little delirious, staring down at him, both of you catching your breath.

His head falls back against the pillow, face turning impossibly red as he blinks at you like he’s in shock. You laugh a little and he huffs, but his eyes soften.

“So… you, uh— You— Are you—?”

You cut him off with another touch of your lips, effectively shutting him up. He instantly melts into it, tightens his grip in your hair, pulling you further into the kiss, and you can’t think straight, everything is just Felix. 

After a while, you’re forced to break away again for air. Felix whines at the loss of contact, eyes half-lidded, his cheeks flushed. You only manage to get a few breaths in before he's pulling you down into another kiss, more urgently this time.

You let out a surprised noise, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. He seems to be determined to kiss you senseless, and it’s working. 

He bites your bottom lip, making you gasp into his mouth. He mumbles something in response, his thigh sliding between your legs, and your brain short-circuits.

Okay. You shiver. Okay. You should probably… You manage to pull away for a much needed breath and Felix tries to chase after your mouth, but you press a hand to his chest to hold him in place.

He groans, looking frustrated, but flops back against the pillow obediently. He blinks at you dazedly, his own chest heaving, eyes half-lidded and dark, but his expression quickly morphs into a pout. “Why… Why…?” he complains, trying to tug you closer again.

You huff a weak laugh, shaking your head, and he gives you a wide-eyed look, all innocence and sweetness, and that's not fair that he can look like this after all of that.

“Just— one sec,” you somehow get out, your mind still completely overloaded. “We should… uh…”

He’s still trying to reach your mouth. “What,” he mutters, breathing heavily against your neck.

“Talk,” you manage to say, even as his lips make their way to your jaw. “We should… we need to… oh my god—”

You cut off, stifling a gasp as he sucks on your skin. “Felix,” you say, trying to be stern, but it comes out like a moan instead.

“Mm?” he hums against your ear, completely unapologetic. “You want to… talk?”

“Yeah.” It takes all your willpower to pull away, ignoring how he whines in protest. You sit up and take a moment to compose yourself, willing yourself to ignore the urge to just give in to him.

Felix flops back onto the bed, throwing his arm over his eyes as he sighs, his voice sounding a little raspy.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his ears red. “Sorry, god, I've thought about this so much, I just—”

Oh. “You’ve… thought about…? How much…?”

He makes a strangled noise and covers his face more thoroughly, voice muffled. “Oh my god,” he groans, “I'm going to fucking die. I… a lot.”

…Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. Okay.

“...How much is a lot?” you ask, unable to resist your curiosity. And maybe you want to tease him about it. Just a little.

He groans again. “So, so much. An embarrassing and pathetic amount.” He’s not even trying to hide his pouting. “Can you please not make me say the actual words.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, but the way he sounds — breathless and embarrassed — it’s honestly kind of adorable. He’s always so confident in most aspects of his life that you kind of love seeing him so flustered.

“Please… don’t,” he mumbles, peeking at you. “I’m begging you…”

He's blinking up at you, the picture of innocence once again. He glances up at you through his eyelashes, all pretty and delicate and ugh, he's absolutely doing this on purpose.

“You’re distracting,” you say weakly, staring down at him. “Stop making cute faces at me.”

He does not stop making cute faces. He tries though, lowering his hands as his face drops into a scowl. “I’m not making a cute face,” he protests.

“Yeah, you are,” you say, raising an eyebrow. “You’re doing it right now. Your pouty thing.”

He sniffs. “I'm not,” he says petulantly, though there’s a hint of mirth in his eyes. “This is just my regular face. It’s not my fault if my face is cute.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

He opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off with a finger, placing it over his lips. His mouth instantly snaps shut, and you can’t resist a little grin as he looks up at you with wide eyes. 

You watch as he swallows, his eyes fixed on you, and, not for the first time, you’re reminded of how pretty he is. He’s always been gorgeous, in an objective sort of way, but you feel like you’re seeing him for the first time.

You move your hand away and take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. You need to talk about this while you’re both still somewhat coherent, or you’ll go absolutely insane.

“So…” You’re a little pleased with how steady your voice is, considering the circumstances. “You… love me.”

Felix coughs and covers his face again. “Do you have to say it like that,” he groans, his voice muffled by his palms.

“You never… you never said anything.” 

He just shrugs, still hiding his face. “I was scared to lose you,” he says with a shaky breath. “I didn’t expect you to want me back…” There's no bitterness in his tone, just disbelief.

You frown. “But you’re—” You bite your tongue. Felix was worried about you not wanting him?

You shake your head, a somewhat acrid feeling welling up inside of you. You've seen firsthand the sheer amount of attention he gets from people, from the random gifts and outright confessions and people slipping him numbers and notes everywhere he goes. There's never been a shortage of interest in him, from all sorts of people. Compared to him, you're… nothing.

“So… this whole time, you just… thought I was clueless?” You're still trying to wrap your head around it.

He sighs. “I mean, kind of,” he says, his eyes peeking through his fingers. “You’ve been completely oblivious to anyone who’s ever flirted with you.” 

Including me, he doesn't say, but you're starting to put the pieces together.

You wince, your face flushing. “I’m not that oblivious,” you protest weakly. “I just… I’ve never been particularly interested in… anyone.” 

Felix stares at you, one eyebrow raised.

“Like…” It's true that you've never really liked anyone very strongly in all your time at college. Some fleeting crushes here and there, but even the few people you had tried to go on dates with always felt lacking in some inexplicable way. You always felt much better as soon as you'd come home to your shared space with Felix, always feeling the most comfortable in his presence. Was that it? All this time, no one could ever compare to your best friend? 

And the constant attention Felix would get… It annoyed the hell out of you. At first, you would tease him, even encourage him to give them a chance, delight in the way his face would turn bright red. But it quickly became so annoying watching him have to navigate awkward conversations, politely turn people down. Sure, a part of you was probably a bit insecure always watching him receive so much attention. At least, that's what you told yourself. But beyond that, you think you're finally starting to understand the feeling for what it is.

Jealousy.

“Oh my god.” You’re starting to realize what a mess this entire situation is. “We're both idiots.”

Felix finally drops his hands from his face, giving you a dry look. “Speak for yourself.”

"Shut up," you say absently, not even annoyed. Your head is reeling.

This is… a mess. Felix is in love with you, you’re pretty sure the feeling has been mutual for a while, and you’re both leaving this place in just a few months. 

“So… you’ve never liked anyone before?” Felix asks. His tone is a bit teasing, though there's curiosity beneath.

You make a face. “Um.” Yeah, that's what you thought for the past couple years until now. How much do you reveal?

All of the puzzle pieces are clicking into place in your mind, making your head hurt even more. So much time wasted, you want to cry.

“I guess no one ever compared to you,” you say without thinking, and immediately slap your hand over your face.

“Oh.” There’s a second of silence as you both process the words.

Then, Felix starts laughing.

“Oh my god,” he mutters, struggling to contain himself, barely managing to keep his laughter under control. Your face is growing redder by the second, embarrassed and annoyed.

“Will you stop?” you whine.

“I’m sorry, I just—” he tries to get himself together, taking a deep breath before looking at you fondly. “This is the corniest fucking shit I've ever— holy shit. We're actually both stupid.”

“I told you,” you say, smacking him on the arm. 

He just snickers, grabbing your wrist before you can hit him again. He pulls you so you’re half-lying on top of him again, and you can feel his shoulders shaking as if he’s trying to keep from bursting out into another fit of laughter.

You let your head fall against his chest with a huff, still annoyed even as he wraps an arm around you, his hand rubbing against your back.

“You jerk,” you mutter.

He hums, sounding amused. “You love me.”

You go rigid, and he starts to laugh again, obviously enjoying the fact that he found an easy way to fluster you. 

“Shut up,” you grumble weakly, burying your face against him.

It isn't fair. He’s had time to fully realize it, years apparently. He’s had time to process everything. Meanwhile, you feel like you’ve been completely blindsided. 

He finally stops laughing and you’re both quiet for a few moments. You can hear his heart drumming loud in his chest.

“Wow,” he says suddenly. “We could have avoided a lot of stress if we realized earlier.”

You let out a snort of semi-hysterical laughter. “I know,” you agree, before pausing and wincing. “Oh god, I can't believe we've been… that we've been living together…”

“Yeeeahh… That's been torture by the way,” he says conversationally, as if he's discussing the weather, and your cheeks flare up. 

“...Torture?”

He squeezes your side. “Are you kidding? Have you seen yourself every day? Every time you wear my jacket, or… anything? Wearing those hoodies on movie nights—”

“I get it,” you cut him off, your face absolutely burning. “I get it, I’m—”

“Stupid?” he offers helpfully. “Oblivious? Cute?”

“...You never said anything,” you say weakly in an attempt to defend yourself.

“I wasn't going to make things awkward,” he protests. “Can you imagine if I’d actually said anything and you just… what? Said no? And then we have to keep living together like normal?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the guilt stirring in your stomach. You can’t even begin to imagine what it's been like from his perspective.

“...Sorry.” You shift so you can actually look at him, but he won’t meet your eyes, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he pouts.

“You really didn't notice?” he asks, finally looking at you. “Even a little?”

“No.” You feel a frustrated sort of laugh bubbling up. “We’ve been so stupid. We could’ve… we’ve wasted so much time, years—”

“Hey, hey,” he interrupts, seeing your expression, sitting up and gently placing his hand on your cheek, and you stop abruptly. “It doesn’t matter,” he says reassuringly. “We have time, okay? Plenty of time.”

You’re still struggling with the whole situation, trying to process everything as you stare at him. “But… we’re graduating.”

He gives you a small, unsure smile. “Yeah. We are.”

"And… I don't even know where I'm going. We could be—”

“Hey.” He cuts you off, placing a finger gently on your lips, and you bite your tongue, looking down at him. “Stop worrying so much. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

You try to take a deep breath and he leans forward until his forehead is touching yours. 

Your mind is still racing, your entire universe is completely tilted, and you’re not entirely sure how to deal with any of it. But Felix is close and his hand is still on your cheek and…

And you want to focus on that instead, ignore everything else for now.

“Yeah?” you say weakly, your eyes fluttering shut.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice a little more firm, and he brings his other hand up to cup your face.

“For now,” he continues, his breath warm against your skin. “Let’s just…” He lets out an unsteady laugh, his hands still gently framing your face. “Can we just…”

Your entire body feels a little shaky. You lean forward a bit, closing the distance, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“Yeah,” he breathes before slanting his mouth against yours.

It’s not very decorous. You’re both a little desperate, a little uncoordinated, trying to make up for years of lost time.

It’s messy and you can feel that he’s still a little nervous — as are you — but he's also determined. He pulls you closer, one of his hands sliding into your hair, tugging gently in a way that makes you gasp into his mouth.

Then he suddenly pulls back after a few moments, laughing when you whine pathetically in protest.

“Shh, hang on,” he says, slightly out of breath, and you open your eyes dizzily.

“...What?” you complain.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I… I just remembered that I…”

You watch, utterly befuddled, as he pushes against your shoulders so he can sit up. He gently lifts you off of him, answering your whine of protest with a quick kiss before his hand drifts away from your face, reaching for his phone.

You try to grab at him. “What are you doing—”

He laughs and dodges out of your reach. “Just gimme a second,” he says, turning his phone on as he settles back on the bed.

You sit there, feeling dazed and frustrated as he taps at his phone, his attention focused on the screen. After a few moments, he finally seems to finish what he’s doing, putting his phone down with a satisfied hum.

When he meets your eyes, he just looks amused at your expression. “Sorry, sorry,” he says with a grin, moving closer to you again.

“What was so important,” you pout.

“I was meant to meet with my group mates for our project tonight,” he says. “So, I told them I'm feeling sick.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Felix.”

He has the audacity to just smile innocently, already shifting so he can push you down against the sheets.

“What?” he says casually, hovering over you, his hands coming to rest on your waist. “I wasn't gonna be able to focus anyways.”

“Oh.” You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks again. “Is… that really okay…?”

“Don't worry,” he says, leaning down and pressing a light kiss into your neck. “I practically carry them anyway, they can live without me for one night.”

You swallow, feeling his hands slide up your arms, his touch leaving a trail of sparks along your skin. “Okay,” you agree, completely distracted now, your thoughts hazy.

“Mhm.” He sucks on a sensitive spot on your collarbone and you let out a shaky exhale. “Can we focus on something else right now?”

You nod. He moves up to kiss you and you know, with him, you'll figure out whatever comes next.

For now, that's enough.

—

a/n: me, a mech eng major.. ofc i had to make felix a fellow engineer. nerds 4 life (do not study engineering i crave death every moment)

also yes title is the coldplay song bc im actually uncreative as hell and name everything after songs. how do ppl come up with titles (T＿T) but anyway since it's one of felix's fav songs i thought it was especially fitting 🤍

tysm for reading 🫶