#all you get to know is I burnt off the ends of my hair. again
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take a bite
summary *. â âÂ·Ë your gf is spiderman, and she keeps getting hurt
warnings *. â âÂ·Ë sexual tension i think?? idk. no smut. a very slightly heavy makeout. ellie is hurt!! and there's a description of her wound that is quite detailed i think. the rest is fluff??? and no angst.
author notes *. â âÂ·Ë every penny i throw in a fountain is another wish for spiderman!ellie to be real. i was literally kicking my feet as i wrote this
Indulging in situations that are fabricated imaginations
Moments that cease to exist
Only want to fix it with a kiss on the lips
After a long night of patrolling, all Ellie wants to do is cuddle and kiss you. You're on your phone, lying on your bed, when she knocks on the window. You stand up to open it, letting Ellie come in, taking her mask off, and then jumping from the window ledge and landing on the floor with a huff. When she presses her hand to her stomach, you know she's hurt.
"Bad day, huh?" You ask as you close the window.
"It was good, I justâyou know, I almost got shot."
You wouldn't roll your eyes if this hadn't happened before, but it has. A lot of times, actually. Her reflex when she's fighting gets a little⊠slow. And by the time she notices the bullet, it's too late, and she's already getting grazed by it.
"You need to be more careful," you say, crossing your arms. "I've told you that before."
"Says you."
You scoff, walking to the bathroom, not even bothering to tell Ellie to follow you.
Ellie sits on the toilet lid, placing her mask on the side of the sink as you take out the first aid kit from the cabinet. She removes her arms off the suit, and then you help her to get out of the shirt she has underneath it, leaving her briefly exposedâonly with her sports bra. She's quiet the whole time, looking into your eyes as you work on tending the woundâcleaning and disinfecting. At one point, you end up sitting in her lap, her hands on your waist as you continue to take care of her.Â
Thank God it is not too bad, you think. There was a time when Ellie had come with such a bad wound you thought you might have to go to the ERâthe wound had been too open and she had been too pale and her face was covered in little cuts, her suit was full of burnt holes and her whole body was bruised. She asked not to go to the hospital, so you swallowed your fear and started cleaning the wound with shaky hands.
A part of you is still scared that she might knock on your window looking like that, or even worse. What would you do, then? Swallow your fear again and take it to your grave? What if something else happensâwould your hands be covered in her blood forever, carrying the heaviness of a guilt you don't know where to place?
"Hey," Ellie says, snapping you out of your thoughts. One of her hands on your hips raises your shirt a little, for her to rub your exposed skin with her thumb. With her free hand, she places it on your cheek gently, as her thumb gently pulls your bottom lip out of your teeth. "You okay?"
"Yeah," you whisper. Her touch sends shivers down your spine, and it's taking everywhere in you for not to blush. Her thumb starts caressing your lip as she looks at your lipsâthen back at your eyes, then back at your lips againâand then she lowers her finger a little, now midway to your chin, gently parting your lips as she gets closer.Â
She kisses you, and then it's heaven.
Your fears get lost in the moment, knowing she's right next to you. And that she's safe. And that one time was just one night and it doesn't mean it'll happen again.
Her hand on your hip moves until her hand reaches your bare back, and you hum in satisfaction, against her lips. The kisses get messier as you continue. At one point she goes through your bottom lip with her tongue, and you happily let her in. Your hands go to her hair, and she lets out a soft moan muffled by your mouth that has you wanting more. And suddenly, you make a sudden wrong move, and she whimpers, but in pain.
"Shit," you apologize quickly.
She lets her head on your shoulder and then her shoulders are shaking and you think she might be crying. But then you hear her laughter.
"You're so stupid," she mutters to your shoulder, letting both of her hands drop to your hips.
"You love me though," you say, as you stand up.
"Sadly, I do." She then exclaimed as you threw her shirt that was lying on the floor to her face, "Hey!"
"Take a shower or something," you said to her, organizing the stuff you used from the first aid kit.
"You'll join me, yeah?"
"You expect me to join you after you just called me stupid? Nuh-uh," you refute, putting the kit to where it was placed before. Then you walk closer to her, leaning down a little and giving her a peck on the lips, "I love you, too."
"Good to know," she says, jokingly. "Kidding. Love you."
There's another kiss, and then, "You should really take a shower, though. You stink."
"Oh, I do not!" She exclaims.
But after a shower, she smells her armpits and declares that maybe she needs to take another one.
#spiderman!ellie#spiderverse!ellie#ellie williams#tlou#fic#lesbian#the last of us 2#the last of us#ellie williams x y/n#emwrites ; â#fluff#ellie x reader#ellie williams fic#x reader
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I am bored bored bored bored bored and I donât want to write about the things actually on my mind or happening in my life so Iâm just going to critique this chart reading someone did for me a couple days ago
according to this person I AM going to get married just lateâŠ. like I shouldnât stress for about 4 more years. and tbh a part of me is like ânooooo I want to be a young and beautiful brideâ but if I shut that part up that sounds p ideal.
also told me to avoid dating anyone with Gemini placementsâŠâŠ girl everyone Iâve ever so much as had a crush on has Gemini placements. with the exception of my ex fiancĂ©. I vibe with Gemini moons almost exclusively. the girl I have a crush on rn has a Gemini moon and I think it was the same day I got this reading that she told me she wants to kill me over and over. literally HOW am I supposed to turn that down. Iâm only human faerie after all
mentioned that I need to be careful who I let close to me because a lot of people over the course of my life are very jealous/envious of me, particularly those with strong Sagittarius placements (which Iâve def found to be true). this is literally WILD to me like ik Iâm pretty great but what do I have (other than looks and brains and intrigue and force of personality, okay maybe I get it) that you actually want. actually being me isnât that great most of the time.
spouse will be sociable and emotionally intelligent and intelligent in general and religious/spiritual and âquaintâ and love travel. pretty standard 9th house themes. also said she will have an âunderlying intensityâ which, yeah I hope so otherwise what are we doing together.
apparently my Uranus/Neptune conjunction in 1st makes me come off as unreliable and my Pluto placement makes me seem controlling/manipulative and too intense for many people. and those two things combined are why people decide to write me off as a bad person. which I guess makes sense bc what happens is they like all of a sudden see something about me they donât like and then act scared of me??? even when there is genuinely no reason to be????? anyway apparently one of the big things Iâm supposed to learn that will help mitigate this is to treat friendships more causally and not expect everything to be a super deep connection. but I feel like I already DO THAT with a lot of people + also when I do that I end up playing with them like dolls or chess pieces. and itâs fun but not satisfying. well whatever I have astrological license to treat my friends worse I guess
ages 24-25 were supposedly years of great personal growth and healing for me but all I did in those years was get abused and lose all my friends and have everyone tell me that actually I was abusive and a narcissist with 17 personality disorders including one that is straight up not in the DSM. and go to a bunch of therapy that didnât work. and get addicted to weed and gain 30lbs and have everyone in my life collaborate on a giant gaslighting effort to convince me I was dangerously obese and they were worried for my health. and obsessively read r/amitheasshole trying to figure out the rules for Correct behavior. and cut myself to win arguments. and get kicked out of thanksgiving drunk in the middle of the night. and move to Spokane and have my first great love vow to hate me forever. and continue to get abused in Spokane, and meet some friends, and lose those friends bc I pissed off a serial killer dude, oh also I pissed off someone in the mafia I forgot that part, and get abused more and have a dead bedroom in my relationship and lock my entire personality up in a box and put it in a deep dark corner of my mind and give up on ever being happy. also I cried on my birthday both years. whereâs the growth and healingâŠ. I guess I hiked a lot in that time? and went to the gym but my heart was NOT in it
apparently I am v talented at communicating, networking, and making connections and can use my gifts to acquire money and power if I so choose. girl I so wish that were true
was also told what themes I will focus on during the next couple years of my life and apparently this year my focuses are: relationships, marriage, contracts, business partners, equality, sharing, interpersonal style. and I can see a couple of these but for the most partâŠ.. canât relate.
#you guys donât get to know the overarching themes anymore now sorry#all you get to know is I burnt off the ends of my hair. again
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Everybody knows that Iâm a good girl, officer.
Officer!Agnes x reader
Summary: After almost burning your house down because of your boyfriend you end up at the police office, being interrogated by your ex girlfriend.
Warnings: +18, smut, dom/sub dynamics, dom!Agatha, bratty sub!reader, handcuffs, chocking, hair pulling, degrading kink, praise kink, strap on, slight spanking kink, daddy kink, fluff.
Word count: 4k
A/N: this is my first fic so I hope you enjoy reading it as much as I enjoyed writing! Also english is not my first language <3
Masterlist
âââ âą âŸ âą âââââ âą âŸ âą âââââ âą âŸ âą âââ
You honestly didnât know how it happened, one minute you were screaming at your cheater of a boyfriend and his fucking side chick and the next thing you remember was running out of the house, trying to get away from the flames.
You sighed in relief, finally at home after a long and stressful day at work, your boss was being a bitch again and making you do extra hours just because she feels like it. God how you hated her, you just wanted to go home, have a nice dinner and watch some bad movie with your boyfriend.Â
As you reached your door, searching for your keys inside of your needlessly big purse you heard a sound coming from inside of the house, making you stop immediately, what was that? Again, another noise, was it⊠a moan? Pressing your ear to the door you heard it once again⊠and again⊠those were definitely moans âwhat the fuck?â Was he watching porn or something? I mean you couldnât blame him if he did, you were barely home, but then you heard it, someone moaning his name.Â
Your heart stopped for a moment, he could not⊠could he?Â
With shaky hands and ringing ears you carefully opened the door, the sight of candles all around the hall and into the living room making you shake your head, no, no no no no no, three years, three years of relationship, this couldnât be happening, right? He wouldnât throw it all away, not like that, right? Your mind was playing with you, it had to be that.
Slowly, you made your way to said living room, the moans and grunts getting louder, and your heart pace getting quicker, and then you saw it, you wereât crazy, it was really happening âYou motherfuckerâ your hoarse voice causing the room fall silent, your now, ex boyfriend, throwing the blonde girl off his lap, watching as she immediately put her clothes on and ran through the door, you didnât care a bit about her.
You only focused how he made his way to you, the noises of him trying to talk to you into a pit of lies sounded blurry.
âHoney, itâs not what it looks like I swearâ mhm⊠what a cliche lie,
âItâs her fault! She seduced meâ great try, another one,Â
âIâm so sorry, my loveâ huh, that was a good one⊠no,
âItâs not my fault youâre never home to get me off, I had to find someone else!â oh there was it, that son of a bitch.
Everything went red, you werenât conscious of what you were doing, throwing everything your hands reached at him, screaming how much of a stupid fucker he was, not even trying to hide it, doing it in your own fucking home! And you didnât realize one of the many things you threw at him was one of the big candles he set, hitting against the curtains.
It happened too fast, there was fire everywhere, and you stood there, frozen in the middle of the living room, staring at the burnt out wall, realizing what a stupid thing you did, I mean you didnât even love him, you never did, but you trusted him, and you felt fucking betrayed.Â
It wasnât until a big flame got into your view you got out of your shock and ran out of the house, a police car already waiting for you.
And now here you were, sat in the interrogation room, leg shaking with anxiety and your heel kicking the floor repeatedly, staring at the door as if someone would appear faster. Youâve been waiting like 20 minutes already, and you knew there was only one person in the police office at this hour so you didnât understand why she was making you suffer like this.
Itâs something she have always loved to do.
As those thoughts ran through your head the door opened, revealing the brunette woman, she leaned against the door after closing it, studying you for a moment, she tried to grasp everything around her head, trying to understand the reason behind all of this âIâm very curious⊠what made you burn your house down and nearly killing you and your boyfriend?â
You scoffed and the last word ânot my boyfriend, not after tonightâ your words sounded furious and⊠painful, you squirmed in the chair, feeling quite uncomfortable âI didnât mean to ok? You know Iâm not that crazyâÂ
Agnes and you had a⊠situationship in the past, you both wanted more, wanted a serious relationship but her work and schedule were a problem, you barely saw her once a week or two causing you to argue a lot, so you both decided to part ways and stay friends, it was the best for both of you.
Or thatâs what you wanted to believe anyway.
The older woman hummed, detaching herself from the door and sitting on the chair in front of you âI knowâ of course she knew, she knew you werenât capable of hurting a flower âthatâs why Iâm asking youâÂ
You looked up at her from your fidgeting hands âI caught that fucker cheating, alright? I-I got furious and started throwing things at him and maybe⊠accidentally, I threw him a lit candleâ replaying the scene in your head you let out a giggle, seeing his stupid face was worth it after all âbut honestly Agnes? I donât regret a thingâ
Well⊠maybe you were a little crazy.
She fought back a smirk, she couldnât blame you, he deserved it, she always knew that bastard wasnât good for you, and if she had found out about it before she would have done the same thing, or worse, no one but she can mess with her girl âwell, Iâm sorryâ she wasnât, at all âbut Iâm afraid you have to spend the night in the tankâ
What? No
No way you were gonna spend a second in that hell hole.
And just like that, an idea crossed your mind, it was risky but you knew very well it would work, for both of you.
âBut⊠Aggieâ you whined, looking at her with doe eyes, yes⊠you were playing that card âyou know Iâm a good girlâ she flinched in surprise, feeling your foot caress her leg under the table.Â
Those eyes, those fucking eyes.
You were playing a dangerous game, but oh⊠two can play this game and she hates to lose.
Without saying a word she got up, slowly making her way around the table, you watched her intently, like a prey watching her hunterâs next move, and then suddenly you let out a gasp, she threw your chair back with a kick, caging you between her arms, resting them on each side of the chair.
âAre you? Because I only remember you being a fucking bratâ she was so close, so close you could smell her woody perfume, her breath against your face, fuck how youâve missed her, every smell, every touch, every word of hers.
No one could ever compare to Agnes.
âAnd I remember you loving it⊠you loved to fuck the brattiness out of me, you loved to shut me up shoving your dick in my mouthâ your hand carefully ran up her leg, watching her breath hitch you never took your eyes off hers, and just as you reached her crotch you felt something hard, making you bite you lip âyou havenât changed a bit Agnes, always packing around with that purple d-âÂ
She didnât let you finish, grabbing you by the throat, shoving you up and against the wall, earning a huffed grunt from you and grabbing her wrist for support.
There she was, the rough Agnes you always loved, how she lost control of herself because of you, it made you weak on the knees, your mind already fogging into submission, but you had to fight it back, you wanted to test her limits, to totally break her, and let her break you from the inside in return.
On her end she knew she should tease you further, see how far you were capable of going but she was so weak for you, all this time apart from you, trying to find you in other girls but there wasnât anyone like you, she only wanted you, she needed you, like she knew you needed her.
âYouâre playing a dangerous game you know youâll lose to here, petâ
God, you loved when she called you that, her pet, her plaything, her doll to play around anytime and anywhere she wanted.Â
No.
Focus.
Break her.
âIs that the best you can do Aggie? Aww, maybe I was wrong, maybe youâve lost your sparkâÂ
Yes, yes, yes, that was the look you were searching for, that rough, primal look that sent you into a subspace without hesitation, you were ready to take whatever she wanted to give you.
Agnes pushed her leg between yours, pressing against your center, watching as your face squirmed in pleasure, she always found it fascinating how she could pull these kind of reactions out of you with such little actions âyou really think youâre in control here, hm?â
You both knew the answer, you both knew there was no way you could take control.
âA-Agnes, is this really the place to do this?â Your voice came out hushed and shaky, your mind fighting to get a hold of itself.
The older woman chuckled darkly at your state âoh please, donât tell me youâre chickening out now dollâ and she knew you were right, the interrogation room was no place for this but she knew too neither of you were gonna be capable of waiting another second.Â
She would deal with the consequences later.
Her hand on your throat loosened, letting you breathe for a bit, they travelled down your figure, stopping on your waist, her eyes burning into yours, you saw her expression change for a moment âyou have no idea how much I missed youâ
Shit, this wasnât in your plan.
You gulped, trying to loose the nervous knot in your throat âI missed you too, every fucking dayâ your voice came out in a whisper, as if you were telling her your deepest secret, and maybe it was.Â
Agnes pulled you close, her hands tightening around your waist as if you were going to disappear from her grasp, she had to make sure this was real and not just a dream.
Your lips ghosted against hers, your hands caressing her face, eyes still locked on each other, both of you trying to search for any sign of regret âare you sure you want this?â that made you nod eagerly âI need words babyâ
âYes, yes Aggie, I want you⊠I need youâ
And then her lips were on yours, it was slow and sweet at first, both of you trying to savour the moment after all these years apart, but just as a moan escaped your lips Agnes lost it, her tongue asking for entrance licking your lip, you immediately let her, submitting to her, letting her take control of the kiss.Â
You were always so good to her, always her good girl.
She walked backwards until her legs hit the table turning you both around âupâ she simply said patting your hip softly, causing your puffy lips break into a smile, and of course you obeyed her, hopping on the table before grabbing her by the collar and smashing your lips against hers again.
Your impatient hands deciding to rip her flannel shirt after various failing attempts unbuttoning it, the action making the older woman to laugh against your lips âyouâre buying me a new oneâÂ
You huffed âyou have plenty of those, officerâ she smirked at the new title.
âCute, but I like the old title betterâ her hands making their way into your pencil skirt, stroking your inner thighs, realizing how much she missed your soft and warm skin, how she missed having those thighs around her head, clenching and unclenching with every one of her touch.
âOkay⊠daddyâÂ
And just with that her whole mind went feral, grabbing the slit of your skirt she ripped it in two, making you gasp and looking at her in disbelief âwell, now weâre evenâ before you could spit back at her she cupped your cunt, your head falling back with a moan âfuck, did I make you this wet, pet?â She bit her lip, rubbing the wet spot on your thong with her fingers.Â
âYou know you always do, even only the thought of you doesâ That stroked her ego, thinking how you got this messy only thinking of her, after all this time, it made her even more eager to ruin you.
You watched her as she got on her knees, your breath hitching as she travelled your thighs with kisses, pushing your legs apart so she could tease you further but never where you really wanted her.Â
You knew what she wanted, teasing you like that, playing with the stripes of your thong with her fingers, but you just whined, grabbing her head attempting to push her to your center but she just sat back, looking at you with a raised eyebrow âcome on⊠itâs not that hard to ask me nicely if you want it that bad, dollâ
Groaning desperately, your mind trying to fight back the words you just stared at her with heavy breath, her eyes watching your every desperate move, knowing very well the fight that was going on in that pretty head of yours.
And she knew exactly how to get it out of you.
âDo it for me, pet, come on beg for daddyâ she then continued with her kisses, now starting from your ankle, watching as you gripped the ends of the table tightly âbe a good girl and beg for me to fuck you, sweet thingâ
Your jaw hanged low, your eyebrows furrowing in total desperation.
Come on, you just have to say the word.
Be a good girl.
Her good girl.
âPleaseâÂ
It came out shaky, her kisses stopping to look at you âplease, please fuck me Aggieâ
Yes, much better.Â
She had you just where she wanted you âthere you are, my good girlâ
Then you both rushed to discard your thong and the ripped skirt before she locked your legs around her shoulders, finally burring her head in your center, giving your clit a long lick that had both of you moaning, your hand flying to her hair, pushing her further into you, wanting to feel her even closer.
And she gladly did, wanting to get drunk of your taste, her skilled mouth nipping and sucking on your clit, loving every sound she pulled from you, holding your hips down as they desperately rolled towards her face.Â
Your back arched into nothing as you felt her two fingers tease your entrance âfuck, daddy pleaseâ your submission making the older woman chuckle only of the vibrations to go right to your core, causing you to let out a strangled moan.
And deciding to put your suffering to an end Agnes slowly pushed her large digits inside you, feeling your legs tense around her head, her pace painfully slow, to focused on your face and reactions, your head almost snapping back as she curled her fingers inside of you, making you struggle to breathe at the amount of pleasure she was giving you.
She could never get enough of you, your intoxicating taste and addicting sounds, she could spend the rest of her life between your legs, driving you absolutely mad with just her mouth and fingers, feeling your warm hole, how you clenched and unclenched around her fingers trying to last a little more only to have her like this.
Quickening her pace, her got up, pulling you into a deep kiss as her thumb continued the abuse on your clit, swallowing your whines and moans and letting you taste yourself, her free hand making itâs way inside of your top, finding your nipple and pinching it between her finger, she always loved how you went braless everywhere, making it easier for her to access.
And when she felt your core clench harder, knowing you were already close to your orgasm, all her movements stopped âw-what are you doing?â you whined out, tears threatening to spill from your eyes from the overstimulation.
âShh, itâs okâ she kissed your temple âopen your mouthâ
Without hesitating for a second you obeyed, her fingers slipping in, making you instantly close your mouth and suck, watching as her lips parted and pupils darkening in pleasure, your tongue playing with her fingers, cleaning them before she got them out, your mouth letting out a âpopâ sound.Â
She then suddenly pushed you off the table and turned you around, pressing your front against the cold surface, manhandling you in the position she wanted âyou better keep your hands thereâ she said locking your hands on your back.
âI will, daddyâ you bit your lip from giggling shaking your ass against the hard bulge in her pants, knowing the effect that action had on the woman.Â
There was silence for a moment, you could feel her eyes on you, and then-Â
slap!
You gasped in surprise, your body jumping forward âkeep that up and it wonât be the only oneâ you felt her deep voice right in your ear, her hand caressing you red and itchy bottom cheek.
You couldnât deny and say you didnât like it, on the contrary, it felt fucking good, but right now you just wanted her to fuck you raw, so just nodded keeping in mind to bring that side of her another time.Â
The sound of a belt unbuckling reached your ears, your heartbeat fastening in excitement and your legs rubbing against each other for some friction yes please, please, please, your hands twitched, needing to grab onto something, or to feel her under your touch âkeep. them. there.âÂ
It was easy, right?
Wrong.
You swallowed a whine in anticipation, feeling her hand running down your back, stopping on your waist, and just as you felt her rub against your entrance your hands flew to grab the table for support âoh⊠my poor petâŠâ she roughly grabbed your wrists, and after a second you felt something cold around them, and then a click âyou asked for itâÂ
Did she just put her handcuffs on you? Fuck, you shouldnât find it as hot as you found it.
She took advantage of that distraction to push herself inside of you, watching your whole body squirm in pain and pleasure while a loud moan escaped your lips, stilling for a moment, letting you adjust to her size, and it only took her seeing your hips start to push back into her to slide out almost entirely before roughly pushing into you again, the table cracking at the action âfuck!âÂ
She kept her rough but slow pace, the sounds of your moans and whines getting louder, oh how she missed having you like this, all fucked out because of her, your little brain only filled with her and the pleasure she was giving you.Â
You felt her hand interlock into your hair, and in a sudden move your back was flushed against her front, both of you seeing your reflexion in the mirror on the wall âlook at you⊠already so ruined and I just started fucking youâ you clenched around the strap, wishing she could feel how your body reacted to her words, but she could see it, she saw how your breath stopped for a second, how your eyes closed with a cute little frown on your eyebrows.
Her free hand made itâs way around your throat, squeezing it just the right amount to make your mind fog, your moans fighting to get out as her pace quickened, but it wasnât enough, you needed more âp-pleaseâ you managed to let out, looking at her through the reflexion.
Just like she could read your mind she removed her hand from your hair and painfully slow travelled down your body, rubbing and pinching your nipple, scratching your lower stomach, before finally making you roll your eyes back, pressing your clit between her fingers, while her dick hit that right spot it had you seeing stars.Â
The obscene sounds of your skin against hers and your strangled breath turning the older woman on more than she would admit, her praises in your ear as she abused your clit faster âGood girl⊠youâre doing so good for daddyâ
Your legs already shaking, the knot on your lower stomach getting harder to hold âd-daddy please, please let me cumâ your almost pornographic moans getting more desperate by the second âfuck- please Iâm so close!â
âCum for meâ it only took those words from her to reach your orgasm, your lips parting in an âoâ shape, summing all over her strap.
She slowed her pace, helping you through your orgasm, only stopping when your limb body fell on the cold table, making you shudder.
She let you catch your breath for a second, stroking your back up and down before she stood you up again, turning you around to see your fucked out face.
You opened your eyes to look at her smirking face, causing you to chuckle âhiâ you whispered, closing the gap between your lips, both of you humming âare you gonna uncuff me now, officer?âÂ
âNot yetâ she pecked your lips lovingly again before looking at you, with those demanding eyes âon your kneesâÂ
You stared at her for a second, your breath hitching once again in anticipation, and slowly you got on your knees before her, watching her with doe eyes âyou know what to do, clean your mess dollâ and that you did, your tongue darting out to lick her shaft from the base, never taking your eyes off hers, slowly taking the large, purple dick into your mouth.
Her hand rested on your cheek, her thumb softly wiping away a tear that fell from your eye, her shaft hitting the back of your throat âbreathe beautiful, through your noseâ she hummed as she held your face down, enjoying having you like this again, your mouth full of her, struggling to breathe and those beautiful tears on your face.Â
So fucking obedient for her.
When you started to cough around her she finally pulled out, helping you get up, and sitting you on the table while uncuffing you, her lips kissing all over your face as you recovered, your hands fisting on her navy blue tank top as soon as they were free âyou did so good for me, sweetheartâ she whispered against your lips, making you smile.Â
âThank you AggieâÂ
You rested your forehead against hers, both of you savoring the sweet moment, her hands tightly around your waist in a possessive and protective way.
These were the moments you missed the most, her sweet self taking care of you, making sure you were ok like she didnât just fuck your brains out a minute ago.
It was almost comical.
âSo⊠officer, am I still spending the night in the tank?â She laughed at that, kissing your forehead softly, you were insufferable.
âThinking about it⊠it will be the best if you spend the night at my placeâ you bit your lip suppressing a smile, you were too excited to wake up in the morning next to the older brunette woman âwhat do you think?â
âIâd love toâ you whispered before pulling her into a loving kiss.
She helped dressing up again, giving you a pair of sweats she had in her office, and when you were gonna leave her office she grabbed you hand, pulling you flush against her.
She stared at you trying to get the words out, you could see the fight she was having in her mind projected in those blue eyes, so you planted a soft kiss on her nose, your hands caressing her cheeks trying to calm her thoughts, and then she said it.
âBe mineâ
Your eyes locked, her eyebrows furrowing in worry as you took a second to reply, but when your lips broke into a smile she knew the answer.
âI have always been yours Agnesâ
#agatha harkness#agatha all along#agatha harkness x reader#agatha x reader#x reader#marvel#smut#fanfic#agnes x reader#agatha harkness x you#agatha x you#x you
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Well-placed Trust
As soldiers unpromptedly walk in on a maskless Ghost and you, your solution to protect his face is to shove it in your chest.
Tags: f!reader (boobs involved), civilian!reader, protective!reader, fluff + smut, Praise, Ghost is a menace (positive), boobs worship, 1k words.
Gaining Simon Riley's trust was not something you ever planned to achieve. However, now that you've had it, you were fiercely protective of it.
This would explain why, when you heard the door to Ghost's room randomly opening, and your eyes flew to the skull mask laying on his deskâ barely a meter away but it might as well have been on the other side of the oceanâ, your first instinct was to launch yourself at him. Bluntly shoving his face into your chest without warning, in hopes to conceal it from the newly arrived trespassers, and wrapping your arms around his head in a desperate attempt to hide his hair as well.
Nevermind that he's trapped right between your breasts.
You throw a mildly accusatory stare at the entrance, and coarse laughs ring out, followed by a barely believable apology.
âOops, sorry. Wrong door. Didnât mean to interrupt!â
You let out a relieved sigh as the door closes. However said relief is quick to vanish as you realize Simon hasnât reacted at all this whole time. Not a word, not even a grunt; not a move, not even to repel you.Â
You let go of him like you've been burnt, even raising your hands in surrender.
âSorry! Are you mad? I panicked, I was just trying toââ
Your waterfall of apologies brutally ceases when, after attempting to back away, you're stopped short by his embrace. You donât know when he wrapped his arms around your waist. His expression still out of sight, anxiety nags at you, despite the logical part of your mind emphasizing that if he was actually angry, there's no way he'd demonstrate it by hugging you.Â
So you insists.
âGhost?â
âMmh.â
The sound is raspy, unbothered. He idly rubs his face against your torso, and the motion is enough to make your crotch throbs with arousal. Inhaling sharply at the unexpected sensation, you clench your thighs together.
âSimon,â you call again, trying to sound severe this time.
You have absolutely zero reservation in granting all the hugs he might crave, but surely they could be performed in a less⊠compromising position. Lest you end this cuddle session squirming with want. And a burning face. And the imperative need to never cross the lieutenant ever again, for fear that you'd spontaneously combust with mortification otherwise.
ââM not mad.â
The gruff, familiar voice appeases your tension a littleâ the emotional one, that is. Not the physical one.
âYou're not? You have a right to bââ
âI trust you.â
Your heart skips a beat at the confession. You suspected it, hoped for itâ but hearing it out loud is another matter entirely. Simon Riley is a man of few words, but the ones he does pronounce are always sincere, to the point of bluntness. For him to feel the need to spell it out loud, it has to be important.
âYeah?â
âYeah. You've put my comfort over yours, no questions asked. Couldnât be more pleased, love.â
The gravel in his voice does funny things to your stomachâ why, why, why? It never had that effect before.
You try to ignore the signals sent by your body, instead passing a hand behind your neck in self-consciousness.Â
âOh⊠well. It was nothing. I'd do it again in a heartbeatââ
âYou've been so good to me, sweetheart. Don't ya think you deserve a reward?â
Your brain short-circuits. Your skin gets even warmer. Surely you misheard him.
He finally unsticks his face from your chest, resting his chin above your sternum, only to stare with the start of some impatience drowned out in warmth and fondness.
He's a vision, one that takes your breath away and causes heat to pool in your stomach.
Heavy-lidded eyes, disheveled hair, ardent stare, he's a languid, lascivious mess.
âI need an answer. Preferably in one word. Yes, no, fuck offâŠâ
In other, normal circumstances, you would have stayed mute from the shock, or helplessly stuttered, but the imperative desire to not disappoint him, to preserve the contentment he displays, takes over.
âFuck. Yes.â
The low chuckle that escapes him in reaction to the eagerness of your reply makes you bite back a moan. Your hands close into fists on the back of his shirt.
He lifts your shirtâ "hold this for me, love"â and effortlessly frees your chest from your bra. The second your skin is bare, he presses his face back into it, nuzzling against it with a blissful sigh.
With one hand busy grasping your top, and the other clinging onto his shoulder for balance, there's nothing you can do but submit yourself to his ministrations.
It's your turn to sigh in pleasure as he proceeds to kiss an invisible line between the bottom and the top of your breast, fingers stroking the curve between your ribs and your nipple.
âNever dreamed you'd let me get my face on those, love.â
Groggy, it takes a conscious effort on your part to register what he's saying.
âSuch a generous thing. It's only right you get payback.â
âYou're very⊠talkative all of a sudden.â
âS'that a problem? Think I'm not putting my tongue to use enough?â
Right after that, said tongue swirl around your nipple and you can feel yourself clench around nothing.
âOr maybe that's just not your thing,â he adds, casually, as if he hadnât been shamelessly gropping, kissing, licking and sucking your chest.
âI never said that.â
Your reply had been straight off, out of fear that he'd take offense and puts a stop to all this.
âYou know what to do to shut me up, anyway.â
You donât react to his provocative tone, but youâre tempted by the invitation nonethelessâ to muffle that smart mouth with your bustâŠ
Just as his focus on your breasts threatens to not suffice you anymore, his thumb insistantly rubbs the apex of your thighs, and you push back against it openly.
âEasy there, sweetheart,â he soothes you, but you can see how pleased he is by your eagerness. âM just gettinâ started.â
Soon enough he disposed of your pants, and he's parting your knees to nuzzle against your inner thigh the way he was against your chest mere moments ago. You canât help but close them partially, and instantly he's staring you down, eyes brimming with taunt.
âGonna smother me with your thighs, sweetheart? Like you did with your tits, mh? Better be prepared in case we get âinterruptedâ again.â
âFucking hell, Ghost,â you groan, half exasperated, half even more aroused, as he finally steers his head towards your crotch.
#simon ghost riley#simon riley x reader#simon ghost riley x reader#ghost cod#ghost smut#cod fanfic#cod fic#cod smut#cod fluff#ghost x reader#forced to repost đ#mine#1k
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pretty little wife | sorry, baby
joel miller x f!reader one shot collection
series masterlist | main masterlist | ao3 | âškofi âš summary: 4k words. Joel is stressed and busy with a big project at work lately. His pretty little wife makes it all better. warnings: 18+ MDNI! no apocalypse au, pre-established relationship/dynamic, sub/dom relationship, free use kink, oral sex (m receiving), cock worship (!! yes), unprotected piv, rough sex, dirty talk, pet names for reader, sir kink making a reappearance, bit of fluff mixed in, mention of food/eating, @ GOD WHY ISNT THIS ME a/n: I'M BACK. these two sick lovebirds are back đ i needed something sweet to write while working on smother so here's some cute domestic sucking and fucking from my favorite couple MWAH reminder i have no taglist anymore, follow @beardedjoel-updates to hear about my new fics!
Gonna be late again. Sorry baby.
Joelâs hurried text had pinged your phone a few hours ago, and you reassured him it was no problem, of course. You know that his company is contracting on a huge project in downtown Austin right now, and it required a lot of Joelâs attention. Heâd been giving so much you were surprised that he had anything left in the tank when he came home to you. But by god, so many nights he sure did, coming home in a frenzy to fuck you, taste you, finding you where you were when he arrived home - cleaning up dishes from dinner, the shower, already curled up in bed with a book on one particularly late night.
You relished in him releasing everything into you - the stress of his day instantly melting with a simple touch of his lips to yours, drinking in your curves and soft skin with rough hands and frenzied yet controlled movements. It always seemed like the more stressed he was, the more he couldnât get his cock in you fast enough, the more relentless he was in the ways he took care of you. Heâd leave you spent, dripping, and aching, letting you talk softly about your day as he stroked your hair afterwards, all sweetness and hushed tones until you two fell asleep.
You peer into the living room from the kitchen to see Joel walking in, looking generally askew and you frown. When his shoes are yanked off and placed in the closet he looks up to see you leaning on the doorframe, lips full and pouting, finger sticking up with a patch of cookie dough stuck to it to taste test. You stand in a long, threadbare t-shirt of his and pink cotton panties, just what Joel had set out for you this morning, and he makes sure to thank his past self for such a wise choice this morning. Youâd laughed at the lack of bra or any kind of pants, knowing it was no accident youâd ended up dressed without any bottoms on today. You aim to please, and the look Joel gives you whenever he sees you exactly how he envisioned you for the day always makes your heart soar a little higher.Â
He finds his way to the couch, sprawling out and giving you an exhausted look. You stick the errant finger into your mouth, sucking the sweet, sugary cookie dough off and licking your lips. Joelâs expression changes quickly, his interest clearly sparked, but the wearisome look doesnât leave his eyes.Â
âBaby?â you ask, your brows furrowing further with worry. This wasnât your husband, this wasnât Joel, and you always hate to see him have a tough day. It makes your heart ache when he works too hard, gives too much of himself and winds up burnt out. You certainly donât mind making it all better for him, thatâs what youâre here for, after all, but it pains you nonetheless.
âCâmon over here, little wife,â Joel murmurs, running a hand down his weary face. When he pulls it away, he gazes at you with heavy lids before propping his hands behind his head.Â
You saunter over to him, standing next to where he lays and reaching down to graze your fingers over his stretched bicep, trailing it inwards towards his face. He hums, fluttering his eyes closed for a brief moment and enjoying the way your gentle fingers work across his cheekbones and through his beard.Â
His hand slowly moves from behind his head to curve around your waist, drawing you nearer, the front of your knees hitting the side of the couch cushions now. His silent signals are obvious to you at this point, so you donât waste a moment swinging your leg around his body, tucking it in between his thigh and the back of the couch, settling in to straddle him. A hand runs gently down his chest as you tilt your head, studying his face in concern.Â
âWhatâs my husband need from me?â you ask quietly, letting your other hand bury itself in his curls, scratching at his scalp.Â
Joel lets out a pleasured groan, nearly shuddering at the feeling. âFuck, baby.â You feel his body shift underneath you, already squirming with the sensation of your fingers doing their work on him. âMake me feel good.âÂ
âLetâs get you more comfortable, then,â you coo, fingers already moving on the buttons of his shirt, making quick work of the top few to let his chest breathe a little bit. You take only a beat to admire the top of his chest poking out, curls of hair sticking out wild and messy before getting to work. You slither down his body, giving yourself enough room to undo his belt before pulling it out of its loops and tossing it aside.Â
âLift, please,â you say, keeping up your gentle, soothing tone as Joelâs hips lift off the couch and allow you the space to pull down his dress pants, wriggling them down to his ankles and then over his feet. âNow thatâs better, isnât it?â
âMmm,â Joel answers, a pleasant little hum from the back of his throat. You can feel how your ministrations have already gotten him hard as it brushes against your center when you settle back on top of his hips. A brief tease of your hips swirling on his sends Joelâs twitching, a sly little smile flashing on his lips. But youâre gone an instant later, moving down the couch and settling next to his feet, sitting crossed legged to face them before taking one into your lap.Â
âWhatâs this, now?â Joel asks, a slight tiredness to his voice now.Â
âEver heard of a foot rub?â you reply with a lifted brow. He chuckles and you watch his body rumble with the sound.Â
âGivinâ me mouth today, are we?â he asks playfully, the tired laughter still fading off as he speaks.Â
âI could,â you retort, pursing your lips and looking up from his feet to find his eyes peeking open, looking down at your delicate, innocuous smile with a plethora of hidden meaning behind it.Â
âSuch a dirty girlâŠâ he murmurs, neatly cut off by the groan he lets out when you press in on one of his arches with your thumb.
âSee? I know what you need, baby,â you coo, working your fingers into the tender spots on his foot, being sure to use just the right amount of pressure. You prop his foot in your lap, letting it hang there as you gently rotate his ankle, loosening everything up.Â
âChrist,â he breathes out as you start on the other foot. His breathing is a little labored, pain and pleasure mixing together as you continue to help his weary soles. You work each foot until he sighs contentedly, a good sign that your work is finished.Â
At least on his feet, that is. You run your hands teasingly up his thighs, settling them on his hips as you work your way back up his body, hips straddling his again. You lean down and brush your lips against his neck, peering up to watch Joelâs eyes flutter shut as he sighs again. The sound is music to your ears, anytime your husband makes that content, soft little sound you think youâve reached heaven. You suck and flick little patches all over his neck, starting a slow, steady grind of your hips.Â
âOh, pretty girl,â Joel starts, landing a firm hand along your hip. âI canât today⊠Iâm so fuckinâ beat. You know Iâd give anything to fuck my cock into youâŠâ He murmurs the words with a hint of frustration. You know this is hitting Joel harder than heâs letting on, seeing as his singularly focused task most days is to find a way to get himself inside of you.
âWho said anything about you fucking me?â you ask slyly, hands hooking into the sides of his briefs. You watch as Joelâs eyes pop open and look at you mischievously. âYou said to make you feel good, so thatâs what Iâm doing, my darling.â You keep your tone even and calming as you continue with your teasing, deft fingers playing under his waistband.Â
Joelâs smirk grows and he reaches a hand up to gently pet the back of your head before pulling you to his face, kissing you deeply. âGood girl,â he says as he pulls away, the words falling right onto your own lips. âDoinâ as youâre told.â
You slink lower, getting to the spot you know excites him the most, straddling lower on his legs to bring your mouth down to his clothed cock. You plant small kisses along the obvious bulge and Joel reacts immediately with a small hiss through his teeth. You kiss and lick and suck, letting the fabric tamp enough of the pleasure to drive him crazy.Â
âGod damn itâŠâ he grunts quietly, hips shifting as they spasm up towards your mouth when you suck another spot on the fabric, taking your sweet time, only a small form of torture for Joel. âYou tryna make me ask you to pull my cock out and get your pretty mouth on it? Cause you know, once Iâm not dead on mâfeet I might have to punish you âf thatâs the case.â His words tumble out slow and thick with his accent - that Southern drawl always comes out more when heâs tired and mumbling.
Your mouth curls deviously and you lick your lips. âWouldnât dream of it,â you reply in a low lilt.Â
âMhmâŠâ Joel teases, but you heed his warning anyhow, tugging his briefs down to free his cock, nearly enraged as it throbs and drips precum from the way youâd already been working on it. Your tongue finds the salty fluid at his head, lapping it with just the tip of your tongue and swirling it around. You start to practically nuzzle it, catching his cock in the corners of your lips, letting your tongue get a few tiny kitten licks on his shaft as you rub it along your cheeks. The smooth skin glides along your face and you start to get messier with it, letting his cock start to spread his precum and your saliva along your cheeks as you let the flat of your tongue run along it.
Joel lets out a loud, long groan, fingers gripping deep into the couch cushion. He can barely contain himself as your tongue licks a thick stripe up underneath his length, tracing the most prominent vein. His hips stutter forward as he gives himself to the moment.Â
âGod damn, honeyâŠâ he whimpers quietly, eyes shutting in the bliss of the moment.
Your hands rub his thighs gently, kneading into them as you start to bob your head on his cock, taking a little more each time until heâs at the back of your throat. You fight the urge to gag, a little noise coming out of you, sending Joelâs hand flying to the back of your head, his gaze watching the way his cock disappears inside of your warm mouth.
âThatâs it, choke on it like I like, pretty girlâŠâ Joel mumbles, eyes rolling back a little as his cock fills your mouth. âMy pretty wifeâŠâ he whispers with a reverence and respect, despite the degrading way heâs about to fuck your mouth.
You move with a little more urgency, your mouth stuffed and aching already, one hand coming up to grip the base of Joelâs cock and stroking there while your mouth works on him. Joelâs hand pushes down on your head, sending you a little further and you sputter, spit flying all around his cock and lap but it doesnât deter you. His hips start to move of their own accord into you, matching the rhythm of your mouth pumping on him. Your body gets hot and desperate for him, your praise loving nature alight just by seeing how much he loves the way you pleasure him. Your thighs wriggle as your cunt aches and drips now, begging you for relief that you know will have to wait.
âGod, fuck,â he cries out, âNeeded thisâŠâ Joel seems to be practically revived, a new energy filling his weary body as he grunts and pants, his cock sliding in and out of your mouth in faster strokes now. You can sense how close he is, you know your husbandâs body like the back of your hand now, his balls tightening and cock getting even harder on your tongue.
He grunts with the effort of sitting forward, yanking your head off of his cock and swiftly sliding his hands to your waist, hauling your entire body upwards so that your hips are above his.Â
âNeed this needy little cunt, look how soaked you are,â Joel coos with a genuine pity for you as he sees the wet stain on your panties.. His fingers tear your underwear to the side, giving enough room for his cock to position itself at your weeping entrance, giving you no time to even process it before he forces your hips to bear down on him.
You cry out in a long, wanting moan as he fills you up, the stretch of him burning in that familiar way that you love and crave so much. Joel is an addiction - your husband the one thing in life you could never get enough of, never filling you enough, never fucking you full and deep enough times that youâre fulfilled. He never fails to leave you satisfied, of course, but youâre always wanting more in the next moment, practically wishing you could live just like this - his cock stuffing you and stretching your pussy to its limits, sending that pain you live for deep inside of you until it turns to the most blinding pleasure. Gratitude overtakes you as you sink down completely, whispering out a fervent thank you as you feel yourself clench around him, eyes shut and head thrown back. Joel reaches to your chin, pulling your head to look down at him.Â
âWhat was that?â he asks teasingly, rutting his hips up into your as he speaks. You shudder again, pussy clenching around him as you feel his length pressing against your walls.
âT-thank you,â you breathe out. âThank you, sirâŠâ Youâre unable to say anything else, only look at him with half-lidded eyes and cry out wantonly when he pushes all the way in again, seating himself inside of you only to lift your hips up and do it all over again.
âYeah⊠knew beinâ stuffed full of my cock would make you my polite girl again,â Joel says arrogantly, sending a fresh wave of arousal right between your legs, gushing around his girth. You nod, blinking down at him, rolling your hips and chasing your pleasure. You lean down a little closer to Joel, bringing your chest more flush with his, the change in angle devastating the both of you.Â
âSo fuckinâ full of me,â Joel whispers in your ear, taking it upon himself to bend his legs and start fucking up into you. You moan in his ear, tears springing to your eyes as you feel him close to your cervix, each deep thrust sinfully delicious and bordering on painful in the way that makes your skin tingle in the best way. You want to be used, you want him as deep as he can possibly go, to feel you entirely wrapped around him.
Joel grunts, hot breath fanning next to your ear as he holds you close. Your bodies are intermingling with sweat now, your ass slapping down onto his thighs reverberating through the quiet living room. Itâs just this - the two of you, your shared breath, your intertwined bodies, nothing else matters or even registers to you now. Joelâs hips shift the slightest bit in angle and you cry out, your g-spot now overstimulated with attention as Joelâs cock pounds into you harder, brushing the spongy spot with each new movement into you.
You pant, clutching onto him and digging your manicured nails into his shoulder, scratching them along to his neck where you hang on for dear life.
âFuckâŠâ you murmur, feeling your body tensing, legs like jello as they shake on either side of Joelâs thighs. âLet me come, p-please, sir,â you whimper, holding back with every ounce of strength you have as the tingling warmth spreads, heat in your belly threatening to burst at any second.
âHang on fâme, baby, fuck, n-not yet,â Joel replies in a huff, clearly close to that high himself. âWanna fill you up right when youâre cominâ so pretty fâme.â
You bite your lip hard enough to draw blood, holding back as your body screams at you with need. This wasnât the first time Joel had you hold back your climax, and it certainly wouldnât be the last, but it never got any easier. You whimper, nearing a sob as Joel thrusts into you, your hips rolling and stuttering into his movements. âPlease⊠sirâŠâ you cry.
Joel grunts out a stern no and continues to slam his hips into yours, growing harsher by the second. Youâre a whimpering wreck, your body nearly about to betray you as Joel hits your g-spot again. Tears leak from your eyes with the psychological effort of holding back, but you know itâll be worth it. It always is.
âNow,â Joel says simply, âCome for me, little doll,â he adds, finishing the sentence with a grunt as you start to lose control, feeling like a dam inside of you is bursting, all the pleasure rolling over you in dazzling waves. You flutter around Joelâs cock almost as hard as you ever have, squeezing his length as he lets out a small whimper himself. Your breathy moans right in his ear send goosebumps along his whole body despite how stifling the air is surrounding you two.
âFuckâŠâ he moans, his hips jerking a few times before he starts to spill himself into you. You continue to shake, pulling every last drop from him as you ride out your own high, Joelâs name rolling off your tongue as you moan.
âGod, yeahâŠâ you whimper out, finally collapsing onto Joelâs chest as his legs go limp underneath you. You both lay in silence, chests heaving and small smiles on your faces. Joel strokes the back of your head and your smile grows. Neither of you seem set on moving, the combination of both of your climaxes a slick mess between the two of you as you settle into a more steady rhythm of breathing.
âMmmâŠâ Joel mumbles out the noise. âHowâs my pretty little wife today, hm?â he asks quietly, fingers tracing down your cheeks to your lips.
âYouâre late to ask,â you tease him with a laugh, typically hearing that question before anything else when he gets home. He uses his free hand to squeeze your ass cheek in warning at your bratiness and you grin. âBut better now,â you answer in the familiar response to your favorite question from him.
âThought so,â Joel says wryly, giving you ass a lazy pat before kissing the side of your head. Heâs quiet for a few moments before lifting your hips off of his, your body immediately missing the sweet fullness of him as you both sit up. Joel brings your legs over his and you rest your head on his shoulder, feeling like the most natural fit in the world.Â
ââM sorry about all this, baby - all the late nights and beinâ stressed and probably beinâ a grouch,â Joel says, his voice laden with guilt. He circles on your bare thigh with his fingers and you shudder a little, snuggling further into him. One of your hands wraps around his cheek, turning his head to meet your eye line and you give him a soft smile.
âYou think you just now started being a grouch?â you joke, knowing youâre pushing your limits on how much bratiness Joel will tolerate in one day before things escalate.
He growls deep in his throat and you giggle softly, scratching your fingers through his hair. âThin ice, babyâŠâ he murmurs.
âI love my grumpy husband,â you say sweetly, fingers moving down to run through his rough beard. âItâs okay though, Joel. Promise. I just miss you, but this busy and crazy time will pass like it always does, right? In the mean time...â you lower your voice, a finger trailing from his cheek to his neck and down his chest. âWe can just do that anytime you need it.âÂ
Joel chuckles, giving your entire body a squeeze against him. âThatâs my good girl. Always ready fâme.â You smile into his chest at his praise before he continues. âWeâll do somethinâ this weekend, the two of us anâ spend some time together, mkay? Make up for all this bullshit.â
You feel your heart squeeze inside your chest and your stomach flutter a little at the idea. Joel has typically been pretty good about planning dates over the years, but you know that itâs been hard with his extra workload lately, so youâve been missing the romantic evenings heâd plan for you two. Youâd tried to ask about planning one yourself, and Joel shut you down immediately in the sweetest way possible, claiming the responsibility fully for himself to do that for you.
âOoh, yes please,â you reply excitedly, hugging him close. Â
ââS a date then,â Joel confirms, leaning his head back onto the couch while you stay resting on his shoulder. You both fall into a comfortable quiet again, Joelâs breathing steadying as he dozes off.Â
âDo you want a cookie?â you ask into the silence, sitting up. Joelâs eyes creak open from where heâd been resting them and he glances down at you with furrowed brows.Â
âThat sâposed to be some kind of euphemism, darlinâ?â he asks groggily. You laugh, throwing your head back a little and shuffling yourself to sit up on the edge of the couch.Â
âCould be,â you giggle, âReal cookies this time, though. You can even sneak one before dinner.âÂ
Joel perks up a little, eyes opening a bit more. âChocolate chip?â he asks, a boyish glint in his gaze.Â
âOf course,â you nod, and Joel smiles tiredly, sitting up to join you on the edge of the couch.Â
âYou know youâre the best wife?â Joel says, nudging you with his shoulder and leaning over for a quick peck on your cheek before standing up and pulling his pants back on. He moans and groans while he twists his back and stretches his arms over his head for a few moments, and you know his knees must be flaring up as they do when heâs more stressed.
âJust one,â you warn Joel as you see him making his way to the kitchen trying to look like some kind of master sleuther on the hunt for fresh baked cookies. âIâm making dinner soon.â
âYeah, yeah,â Joel tosses over his shoulder at you before disappearing around the corner. When you make your way to the kitchen, you watch him take a bite off of a cookie from the cooling rack and you stand with crossed arms, admiring him. His eyes look you up and down with a similar appreciation, landing between your legs where he sees your underwear completely soaked and stained from your recent rendezvous. He smirks as he chews, stepping towards you.Â
âAnâ donât you dare think about changing your underwear,â he says in a low rumble, eyes flicking all over your face as he gets close to read if youâre going to keep up your bratty streak today. Instead, you give him a docile little upturn of your lips - heâs been through enough today - and brush past him to start working on dinner.Â
âWouldnât dream of it.â
#sorry for the wait i know its been ages#fic: pretty little wife#joel miller#joel miller smut#joel miller fanfiction#joel miller x reader#joel miller x f!reader#x reader#the last of us fanfiction
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cigarettes after sex
tags: mullet!stan pines, fem!reader, mentions of alcohol and smoking, nsfw, sexual themes, depression, ptsd, drunk sex, hurt/comfort, fluff and angst, inspired by cigarettes after sex songs, so I recommend to listen some while reading that :)
Stan hasn't been himself since the portal swallowed Ford up.
His life is ruined, his mind is ruined, everything is ruined. Every single night, heâs hunched over the journals, Fordâs stupid, cryptic notes that Stan canât figure out, canât understand, but wants to. It's like trying to read in the dark. He knows thereâs something in them, some answer, but itâs out of his reach and every time he thinks about his brother being gone, his chest tightens, that guilt slamming into him so hard he feels like he canât breathe so he drowns in his own tears.Â
Stanley knows heâs not the smart one, never was, and now it feels like heâs lost every chance to make things right. The lab is his prison. The cigarettes are his only escape, one after another until the ashtray overflows, the smell of smoke permanently clinging to everything in this place. His eyes burn from lack of sleep, the bags under them deep and dark and he doesnât bother to clean himself up anymore. Whatâs the point? Heâs all alone. Again. Â
Tonight, something changes. He canât sit in that goddamn lab for another second, canât stare at those useless pages with his head spinning. So, he stumbles out into the cold and ends up at the bar down the street â the only place still open this late.Â
When he walks in, heâs already halfway drunk and you spot him immediately from across the room. Itâs not hard; the guyâs a walking disaster. His coat is rumpled, hair a tangled mess, and his eyes are empty, hollowed out like heâs already lost something far more important than money. You've seen a lot of people sink to the bottom, but this guy sank even lower than most.
Stan doesnât notice you at first. He barely notices anything as he stumbles up to the bar, hands trembling as he grips the counter. His cigarette hangs loose between his fingers, half burnt and about to fall, but heâs too out of it to care. He leans heavily against the bar, head down like the weight of his own body is too much.
âWhiskey,â he grumbles. âwhateverâs cheap.â
The bartender glances at him, sizing him up with a frown. Stan looks like he hasnât slept in weeks, hasnât eaten much either. Itâs written all over him, the sag of his shoulders, the unsteady sway when he tries to straighten up.
The bartender slides the glass toward Stan, but before he even picks it up, heâs already mumbling something under his breath, little grin pulling at his lips. âDonât think I got the money for this, pal.â
He downs the drink in one go, barely wincing as the burn hits his throat and for a moment, you think he might get away with it. But the bartenderâs patience is wearing thin. He scowls, leaning in with narrowed eyes, clearly not in the mood to deal with Stanâs shit tonight.
âIâm not running a charity here,â the bartender snaps. âyou pay or you leave.â
Stan grins, and itâs the saddest, most pathetic thing youâve ever seen. âWhat, no freebies? Guess Iâll have to put it on my tab.â he laughs, but thereâs no humor in it.Â
The bartender looks about two seconds from throwing Stan out on his ass and for some reason, you find yourself moving before you even realise it. Sliding off your seat, you walk over. Stan doesnât notice you until youâre standing right next to him, and even then, his gaze is unfocused, blurry as fuck.Â
Before things get ugly, you step in, sliding a couple bills across the counter, âIâll cover it.â
The bartender takes the money without a word, though you can feel the tension of the situation, heâs definitely bothered and not in the mood. Stan looks at you, bleary-eyed, like heâs trying to figure out if youâre real or just another hallucination. His mouth twists into that lopsided grin again, but thereâs something softer about it this time, like heâs genuinely surprised someone bothered to step in.
Heâs too drunk to notice the bartenderâs scowl as you grab him by the arm, hauling him to his feet. He stumbles, almost dragging you down with him, but you manage to keep him upright, though just barely.
âHey, thanks, sweetheart,â he slurs, blinking at you like heâs trying to clear the fog in his head. âdidnât know Iâd be gettinâ free drinks tonight.â
He tries to stand up straighter, but the alcoholâs got a firm grip on him. His body sways dangerously so you reach out, grabbing his arm to keep him steady. Heâs heavier than you expected, way too much, his body leaning against yours as you pull him away from the bar.
âCome on,â you mutter, dragging him toward the door. âletâs get you out of here before you piss off anyone else.â
Stan stumbles along beside you, his steps unsteady, barely able to keep himself upright. Heâs mumbling something under his breath, words too slurred to make out, because heâs so fucking drunk, but you can tell itâs nothing good. Outside, the cold hits you both like a slap to the face. The winter air is brutal, biting through your clothes and cutting through the haze of alcohol thatâs been clouding Stanâs head.
âJesus, itâs freezing out here,â he mutters, blinking against the cold. His breath comes out in visible puffs, his flushed face suddenly looking even redder in the harsh chill. Then he looks at you. âSo what, you my babysitter now?
This time you have to shove him back against the wall just to keep him upright. His back hits the cold brick with a dull thud, and he lets out a low, drunken laugh, his head tipping back to rest against the wall.
âOhh, you gonna pin me here? gotta say, Iâm not usually into this kinda thing, but for you, sweetheart, I might make an exception.â his body sags, leaning heavily into the wall as he looks at you with half-lidded eyes. âor are you just waiting for me to do something stupid?â
Your brows furrow at that, irritation flaring in your chest. âWhat are you talking about?â
Heâs a mess, a complete disaster, but thereâs something about him that makes it hard to walk away. Maybe itâs the way heâs still trying to crack jokes, even when heâs clearly drowning in his own misery. Maybe itâs the way his hands tremble, even though heâs trying to play it off like he doesnât care.
Heâs quiet for a moment, his eyes half-lidded as he stares up at the sky. Stan chuckles. âWell, I could just. . . yâknow. Throw myself off a cliff. Put an end to all this crap. Whatâs one more dead Pines, huh?â
Heâs not joking anymore. Thereâs something raw in his voice, he sounds way too hurt, too honest, too broken that makes your stomach twist. You donât really know what to answer on that. You arenât that good at supporting people, but supporting drunk guy? Heâll barely hear what youâll tell him.Â
You pull a cigarette from your pocket, lighting it up with quick movements, because cold air stinging your fingers. Stan watches you through half-lidded eyes, his breath visible in the frigid air.
âHey,â he mutters. âmind if I bum one off ya?â
You hand him a cigarette without a word, and he takes it, his fingers still shaking from cold or. . . as he lights it. He leans back against the wall, the smoke curling around his face as he exhales slowly, closing his eyes for a moment.
Neither of you speak after that. Thereâs nothing to say. You donât know how to start a talk either. Is it even needed?
Stanâs a complete mess, the kind you don't want to get too close to. But as you stand there, cigarette smoke curling between your fingers, you canât tear your eyes off him. Heâs slumped against the wall, looking like heâs got the weight of the world on his shoulders or maybe thatâs just the whiskey. You wonder why the hell you bothered to drag him out here in the first place. Heâs a disaster and his weird comments arenât helping, they just disturb you.
You take another drag, feeling the bitter taste of nicotine hit your lungs, and for a moment, you think about just walking away. Heâs not your problem. Youâve done your good deed for the night and the cold air is starting to bite at your skin. Just leave him here. Heâll figure it out, or. . . he wonât. Either way, itâs not your concern.
But just as youâre about to turn and go, Stan mumbles something under his nose. Itâs faint, too quiet to catch.
â. . . shouldâve never messed with the damn portal.â
You blink. Portal? The word echoes in your mind, thatâs surprising, intriguing. What the hell is he talking about? You glance at him again, but his eyes are fluttering shut, his body slumping further against the wall.
âHey,â you say, stepping closer. âwhat did you just say?â
Stanâs lips move, but no sound comes out, heâs completely out of it. Your eyes widen in shock as you say âhey, manâ louder to get him back to his senses, but before you can react, his knees buckle and he collapses, dead weight against the cold ground.
âHoly shit!â you drop your cigarette, your hands immediately going to his shoulders, trying to shake him awake. His head lolls to the side, completely out cold
Of course. Of fucking course! Heâs drunk off his ass, hasnât slept, probably hasnât eaten anything substantial in days. You run a hand through your hair, staring down at him, your mind racing.
Youâre not sure what the hell to do with this guy. You donât even know him. But something in your gut twists, something telling you to stay, to not leave him lying here like this.Â
***
Heâs strange, sure. But why does that word âportalâ keep sticking in your head?
Days pass, but your thoughts keep drifting back to him. That night, his ramblings, the look in his eyes before he passed out. You shouldnât care. Heâs just some guy, a random drunk you stumbled across. But youâve always been a curious person. You keep thinking about how broken he looked, how utterly wrecked he seemed and you wonder what couldâve driven him to that point.
Youâre out in town again, aimlessly wandering the streets of Gravity Falls, and without even realizing it, you find yourself back at the bar where you met him. Itâs the same cold winter night, what makes your body shake from chill no matter how many layers youâve got on.
You stand outside with a cigarette, your breath mixing with the smoke. Your mindâs still on him, on that weird stranger. You canât help but wonder if heâs alright. Probably not? Guys like that donât bounce back easy.Â
You take another drag, exhaling slowly, your thoughts swirling. You think about how he stumbled around, barely able to stay on his feet, and for some reason you smile. Itâs ridiculous, really. Heâs such a loser. But there was something strangely. . . cute about it all. God, why are you even thinking about him
Suddenly, the door to the bar swings open, and a familiar figure stumbles out into the cold. You blink, and sure enough, itâs him. That drunk weird guy. Same red jacket, same disheveled look, but this time he doesnât seem quite as far gone. Still drunk, but not teetering on the edge like last time.
The bouncer gives him a shove, muttering something about not coming back without cash and Stan nearly trips over his own feet before catching himself. He stands there for a moment, muttering insults and then his eyes land on you. His gaze lingers, squinting through the haze of alcohol, and recognition slowly dawns on his face. He straightens up, well, as much as a guy like him can, and adjusts his jacket, trying to look somewhat presentable.
âWell, well, if it ainât my guardian angel,â he says with a grin.
You raise an eyebrow, flicking the ash from your cigarette. âdidnât know angels had to drag drunks out of bars.â
Stan laughs, but itâs more of a low chuckle. âdo I know you? I feelââ he hiccups. âfuck, feel like I should know your name. . .â
âI never told you, dummy.â
Stan stares at you for a moment, processing that, and then he smiles wider. âAh, right. Guess I canât forget what I never knew.â he winks, but itâs sloppy, and you canât help but smile back.
He takes a step toward you, leaning against the wall beside you. âYâknow, I gotta thank ya for payinâ for me back there. âSpecially since that whiskey was crap. Worst Iâve had in years.â
You snort, glancing at him from the corner of your eye. âYeah, and thatâs why you drank all of it, right? real convincing, man.â
He chuckles again, running a hand through his brown hair. âWhat can I say? Gotta give every drink a fair shot. Even the bad ones.â
You shake your head, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips despite yourself. The guyâs a mess, sure, but thereâs something oddly charming about his complete lack of shame. Heâs so human. Flawed and ridiculous, but human. And funny.
For a while, neither of you say much, just standing there under the night sky, the snow crunching beneath your feet as you walk slowly down the street. The cold bites at your skin, but it feels less harsh with him beside you, talking about nothing in particular. He rambles about the bar, about the bartender, about how heâs been kicked out of worse places, but thereâs an ease to it, like heâs just talking to fill the silence.
And for some reason, you donât mind it. His company is strangely nice. Despite everything.
As you walk, you glance over at him, still trying to figure out what it is about this guy thatâs gotten under your skin. Heâs weird, yeah. Definitely not what youâd call put-together.Â
He catches your gaze and smirks, a little lopsided but softer this time. âWhat, you like what you see?â
You laugh, shaking your head. âNot even close.â
***
Over time, you start to see Stanford Stan more regularly. It's never planned, never some formal arrangement. Heâs just there, outside that same dive bar, smoking under the dim streetlight or wandering down the streets with his red jacket pulled tight against the cold. And every time, you find yourself walking beside him, talking about nothing and everything.
Itâs not like youâre close, not really. He doesnât open up, never gives you much more than surface-level comments or dumb jokes to deflect anything too personal. You only know what he lets slip, and even that feels like more than you should. He insists his name is Stanford, though something about it always sounds. . . off.Â
Stanley thinks heâs idiot. Itâs a role heâs playing, a mask heâs not ready to take off, wonât take for for the next thirty years.
One night, after youâve met up for what feels like the hundredth time, you finally ask him why heâs always drunk when you see him. Itâs been bugging you for a while, how every time you meet, he reeks of whiskey and stale cigarettes, eyes glassy, speech slurred, sometimes flirting with you or winking dumbly at you. Youâve tried to ignore it, but tonight the question just slips out.
Stan pauses, cigarette halfway to his lips. You think heâs not going to answer, but then he takes a drag, exhaling slowly before speaking. âHelps me think,â he mutters. âkeeps the noise out.â
You raise an eyebrow. âNoise?â
He shrugs, leaning back against the wall, his eyes scanning the street. âYeah. The crap up here. Some people got quiet minds, yâknow? Not me. Gotta slow it down.â
Itâs vague, cryptic. You donât push for more. Youâve learned by now that pressing Stan doesnât get you anywhere. He only shares what he wants, and even then, itâs always layered in something else, sarcasm, a joke, some offhand comment that makes it hard to tell whatâs real and whatâs just him deflecting.
Nevertheless, there is something in the way he says it that does not leave you indifferent. The way he looks when he mentions his thoughts, as if there's something more hiding under the surface that booze and cigarettes can't hide. You wonder whatâs rattling around in his brain, what kind of shit heâs trying so hard to drown out.
Time passes, and your strange friendship, or whatever it is, continues. Nothing changes. You meet up, you talk, you walk through the streets of Gravity Falls, smoking and trading stories. Stan makes jokes, you laugh, and somehow, despite everything, you find yourself growing more comfortable around him.
But he never lets you in, not really. You can only guess at whatâs going on in his life, at whatâs driving him to the bottom of a bottle every time you see him. Itâs frustrating in a way, how closed off he is, how he seems determined to keep everything buried. Thereâs a part of him thatâs afraid to let you see the real him, afraid to show just how broken he really is.
You start to ask him more personal questions, though he always dodges them with some half-assed joke. Like the time you asked him about his hair. His mullet, to be specific. Itâs a mess, now unruly and overgrown, and you canât help but wonder why the hell he refuses to cut it.Â
âWhy donât you change a haircut?â you ask teasingly. âyou look like you havenât touched it in years.â
Stan just grins, flicking his cigarette into the street. âAh, what can I say? Chicks dig the mullet.â
What you donât know is that Stanâs too scared to look at himself in the mirror.
The way he avoids mirrors, the way his eyes flicker away if he catches his own reflection for even a second. Itâs not about the hair, itâs about something deeper. Every time he sees his reflection, itâs not his face he sees, itâs Fordâs. If he cuts his hair, changes anything, heâs worried heâll lose himself completely, that heâll become the brother heâs spent his whole life running from. Itâs not something heâd ever tell you, though. Thatâs way too deep for the guy who lives behind a wall of bad jokes and alcohol.
Stan never talks about his past. Youâve asked, but he always deflects with a joke or changes the subject. The most youâve gotten out of him is when something goes wrong, he drops something, or his stupid car wonât start, or even when he just stumbles over his own feet. Heâll shake his head, muttering to himself, âScrew-up. Always been a screw-up.â Itâs weird, like itâs the only thing he knows how to be.
It bothers you. You donât get it. Yeah, heâs a mess, but this weird obsession with calling himself a screw-up, like itâs some kind of mantra, doesnât make sense to you. You donât know where itâs coming from, but every time he says it, you see a flash of something bitter in his eyes, like heâs heard those words so many times theyâve become part of him.
What you donât realize is that those words are burned into him. His father used to call him a screw-up, over and over until it became his identity. And then there was Ford, his golden child of a brother, the smart one, the successful one. Stanâs always felt like the lesser of the two, never quite measuring up, always stuck in his brotherâs shadow. Heâs spent his whole life trying to live down to that title, like itâs all heâs worth. Stan was a kid, who heard those words over and over until they stuck, until he couldnât see himself as anything else.
You canât fix whatâs already broken. But that doesnât stop you from trying. Something about Stan makes you want to help, even though you know you canât. Heâs too far gone, too buried in his own mess. Still, you keep coming back. Maybe out of curiosity, maybe out of some sense of hope.
***
Another night, another round of drinks. The two of you sit at the bar, glasses clinking against the wood, the air is filled with the smell of cigarettes and alcohol. Stanâs already a few drinks in, and youâre not far behind. You laugh at something he says, probably another dumb joke, but youâre not really paying attention. Your mind is clouded, your body is hot from drinking, and before you know it, your gaze slides over his lips.
Itâs stupid. Youâre both drunk, and this is Stanford, the guy who can barely keep his life together, let alone maintain a relationship. But the way he looks right now, disheveled and messy, his lips curling into that cocky grin, makes your heart race.
His lips. Your lips. Apocalypse.
The kiss happens fast, messy, without warning. One minute youâre sitting there, and the next, his lips are on yours, rough and dry. Itâs not graceful, not soft. Itâs desperate, like heâs been holding something back for too long, and now itâs all spilling out at once.
The kiss deepens, but you donât care. His mouth moves against yours, hungry, needy, like heâs searching for something, like thatâs what he needed all those years. Human touch and someone else's warmth.
Youâre both drunk, of course. Maybe thatâs the only way it couldâve happened.Â
Stan tastes like smoke and cheap liquor, the bitterness lingering on your tongue as his hands slide up your back, pulling you in. You can feel the heat of his body, the way his chest presses against yours.
Somewhere in the back of your mind, you wonder if this is a mistake, stupid drunk accident. But then he kisses you harder, his hand tangling in your hair and all thoughts of logic fly out the window. This isnât about fixing him. You donât care about anything except the fact that Stanford, the complete disaster of a man youâve somehow gotten tangled up with, is kissing you like the worldâs about to end.
His hands are rough, clumsy as they cup your face, and itâs all heat and desperation, like neither of you know what the hell youâre doing, but you donât want to stop.
Youâre not sure how it happened so quickly, one second, you were sitting at the bar, laughing, your lips crashing into his, and now youâre pressed against the cold wall of the bathroom. The neon lights of the bar barely make their way out from under the door, flooding the room with a dim glow as Stan presses you against the sink.
Stan kisses like an animal, like heâs trying to lose himself in the moment, drown out everything thatâs weighing on him. Like heâs searching for some kind of escape. The alcohol has dulled his brain, but not enough to make him forget. He needs something more, something real to pull him out of the relentless spiral of thoughts, of portals, journals and the constant gnawing guilt.
Stan needs to lose himself in something, anything else. And tonight, that something is you.
His big hands are on you, one sliding up your back, fingers curling into your hair, tugging you even closer as he deepens the kiss. He groans into your mouth and you feel how his hard cock presses through his jeans as he pushes you against the sink in the bar's bathroom. You feel like youâre burning from the inside out, every nerve igniting under his touch, his mouth trailing down your jaw, leaving a scorching path along your skin.
You barely notice when the door creaks open, someone stepping into the small, dimly lit room.
âBathroomâs occupied, unless you wanna watch, but thatâll cost you.â Stan snaps, irritated as he glares at the stranger. The man stutters away quickly and the door slams shut with a loud bang.Â
Before you can say something, heâs kissing you again, hard, desperate, rough, demanding.Â
You moan into his mouth, tangling your finger in his brown hair, tugging him closer, and the word slips out between your breaths. âStanford. . .â
Stan freezes and that name seems to knock all the alcohol out of his blood. It feels like something heavy and wrong between you, Stan's gaze is blank, like he's not here at all. Itâs his brotherâs name, the one heâs stolen, the one heâs buried himself under. You look at him and see something in his eyes. Regret. Guilt. That endless pain thatâs been eating at him for as long as he can remember. You don't know what's going on, but you want to solve this damn mystery so badly. What's wrong with this man?
But then itâs all gone, replaced by that cocky grin.
âStanâs fine, sweetheart. Trust me.â
His hands fumble with your pants, yanking them down roughly, desperately, his fingers massaging and rubbing you through your underwear. Youâre already soaking, practically trembling from his touch, and he groans when he feels it, his fingers sliding through your wetness.
âShit, youâre so wet for me,â he growls. âfuckinâ perfect, baby.â
You moan, head tilting back, the sensation overwhelming as he slides two fingers inside you, rough and fast. Heâs not gentle, not tonight, thereâs no time for that, no point for that too. Heâs desperate and it shows in the way his thick fingers pump into you, the heel of his hand pressing against your clit in the most delicious way.
âSt-Stanââ you moan, looking down at his fingers thrusting into you.
âPlease, donât say it, donât say that name,âmeanwhile, Stan thinks, hoping your drunken mind has figured it out.
ââfuck me,â your last words make him breathe a sigh of relief. Good girl. And then heâs yanking your panties down as he have you bent over the sink, your palms pressing into the cold porcelain and you barely have time to register the sound of his belt hitting the floor before you feel the thick head of his cock pressing against your entrance.
âFuck,â he mutters as he lines himself up. âIâm gonna fuck you right here, right now. And youâre gonna let me, arenât you?â
You moan, nodding, pressing back against him, desperate for the stretch, to feel him inside you because your brain can't think of anything else but getting fucked hard in the bathroom of a bar. âPlease, Stanâ please, use me!â
And he obeys, slamming into you, burying himself deep in one rough, brutal thrust that actually hurts, but your drunk state doesnât care much. You gasp, his cock fills you so completely you can barely breathe, you cry out, your body arching, but Stan's hand is holding you back, pressing on your back to keep you in place and he groans. Itâs overwhelming you, a mix of pain and pleasure and you canât stop moans that escapes your lips as he starts to move, his cock sliding in and out of you with rough thrusts.
âHuh, oh jesus fuck, baby, yer tight,â Stan grits out between ragged breaths, his voice hoarse. He pulls back only to slam into you again, harder this time, his hips snapping against yours with a brutal rhythm that has you gasping.Â
âStaaannâ!â you whimper his real name again, your fingers gripping the edge of the sink for dear life, his cock so deep itâs like heâs claiming every part of you. âOh, fuck-fuck-fuck!â
âmy fucking god, baby,â he groans, his dick hitting that spot deep inside you that has your body trembling. His fingers find your clit, rubbing in quick circles as he fucks you harder. âyou feel so fuckinâ good, doll, so tight around my cock.â
Of course, there's a mirror hanging over the sink, and Stan glances up, wanting to see your fucked-out expression, how gorgeous your face looks when he's pounding into you like this. But, almost spitefully, his eyes land on himself instead. He wants to look away, he should look away, but something makes him stop. For the first time in years, the reflection staring back at him is someone else. Not his twin. Not his nerdy brother. No, not Stanford. Ford would never end up like this. Never get so fucking dirty.
Stan sees himself for what he is. What he's become. Hair disheveled, drunk, filthy, fucking in a bar bathroom. Ford would never be like this. Stan, you piece of shit, you're a disgrace to your brother's name, Stanley thinks.
But then your moans reach his ears, pulling him back, reminding him where he is. Thank God the bar music is loud enough to cover you. He blinks, realizing he's let the pace slip, and his hands tighten on your hips, his grip hard enough to bruise, grounding himself.
Youâre a mess of moans and gasps, your body shaking, your warm walls tightening around him as the pleasure builds. âStanâ fuck, Iâm gonnaââ
Stan leans into you as much as the position allows, one hand tangling in your hair, tugging hard enough to make the roots sting, though in your drunken haze, you barely even feel it.
âDo it,â he growls, his breath hot against your neck. âCum for me. I wanna feel you cum on my cock.â
And you do, the orgasm rips through you, your body convulsing as you cry out, your walls squeezing around him what makes Stan groan, his fingers digging into your hips, thrusting harder, faster, chasing his own release. You can feel him throbbing inside you and then heâs pulling out, his hand wrapping around his cock as he strokes himself, his cum spilling hot and thick onto your skin.
***
The days began to stretch into weeks. Time wasnât something you paid attention to anymore, not since that night. You could still feel him sometimes, his rough hands ghosting over your skin, the taste of whiskey and cigarettes lingering long after heâd left, his groans, the way he said your name. It hadnât been anything gentle or romantic that night, just bodies lost in drunken hunger. And after that, you hadnât seen much of him since, not like before.
You couldnât help but wonder if maybe that night had ruined something between you. Maybe it had been a mistake. Maybe heâd felt nothing, and youâd been stupid to think it couldâve been anything more. The way his lips had pressed against yours, hungry, desperate, hadnât felt like love. He was drunk, did he even know who he was kissing? Your anxiety was growing, your thoughts were fighting one another. It wasnât love. It had been something else entirely, it was raw and messy. You knew it wasnât love, just a night. It wasnât tender or slow; there were no whispered promises of endless love, marriage, kids, whatever âall happyâ people have. Just a desperate fuck, not some grand confession of feelings. Whatever had been between you before ïżœïżœïżœ it felt like it was ruined, as if that thing in the bathroom had burned everything else to ash.
Stanford had disappeared, leaving you with silence and your own thoughts, and you believed that he regretted it. Maybe it was just too much for him.Â
However, Stanley, he couldnât shake the feeling of your lips on his, the way they were so warm, because no one had ever kissed him with that kind of passion before. He wasnât used to that, to being touched like that. His entire life, he believed nobody really liked him. Not like this. Hell, even his own family had given up on him at some point. Except for his mom, sheâd always tried to love him, even when he couldnât love himself.Â
He tried to ignore the way his chest ached when he thought about you, tried to drown it out with more cigarettes, more drinks, he tried, but failed because nothing worked. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw your face. Stan was getting attached to you, he knew it, even when he didnât want to admit it. Even without alcohol, without the nicotine to calm his nerves, he knew he wanted you and your presence. It wasnât just lust. It was something deeper, something that scared the fuck out of him because he wasnât used to it. And maybe thatâs why heâd been avoiding you. Because how the hell was he supposed to deal with feelings he didnât even know how to name? Stan always felt that people didnât love him, they tolerated him.
With you, for the first time in a long time, Stan had felt like he mattered. Like he was seen.
It scared him a lot.
***
Spring came early that year, and with it, the world outside the window seemed to come to life. Gravity Falls blossomed with colors you hadn't noticed before â the world is painted in bright greens and soft pastel tones, flowers made their way through the ground, as if the whole town was shaking off the cold and waking up. And that's when you saw him again.
You werenât expecting to run into Stanford like this, not here, not in daylight, when spring is blooming around you. He was standing at the edge of the road, hands shoved into his pockets, a slight frown on his face like he wasnât sure if he wanted to be here. But then his eyes met yours and he didnât look away this time.
There was no alcohol, no bar lights casting shadows on his face. Just sober Stan, the man who had kissed you with so much need that it had nearly broken you.
âHey,â he called out and you immediately responded with excited âhi!â you smiled, he stood there, waiting for you to come closer. When you did, there was a long pause, neither of you quite sure what to say. His eyes flicked down nervously and you noticed it then, the subtle change, not too noticeable. Had he fixed his mullet a bit? It wasnât much, but it was. . . cleaner. Neater, like heâd put in just a little more effort. Like maybe he had been planning on running into you.
âUh, you wanna grab some coffee or somethinâ?â Stan asked, his hand rubbing the back of his neck, clearly trying to play it cool, but the way he shifted on his feet betrayed him. He was nervous. Actually nervous. You hadnât seen that in him before. âI figured we could, ya know, talk. Maybe. If thatâs somethinâ you wanna do, of course.â
You nodded, a soft smile playing on your lips. âYeah, Iâd like that.â
Thatâs how two of you ended in a small cafĂ© nearby, the conversation light at first, both of you avoiding that specific term about. . . Doesnât matter.Â
It was much easier to talk about the weather, or the weirdness of Gravity Falls, or how spring had made the town feel alive again. But every now and then, your eyes would meet and you exchanged awkward laughs and smiles.
âSo, uh. . . I gotta ask,â Stan started. âdid ya notice somethinâ different?â
You tilted your head, pretending to think for a moment before grinning. âYour hair? you mean you actually put effort into it?â
He smiled back at you. âYeah, well, figured Iâd try to clean up a bit. Yâknow, look a little less like a bum.â
You laughed, feeling warmth blooming in your chest. It was such a small thing, but it felt significant to you. Like heâd actually cared enough to try for you, impress you maybe. And that meant more than you could say.
***
Nights bled into days and days slipped back into nights. Time seemed to blur together, the moon swapped places with the sun over and over. And here you were, tangled in the sheets of Stanâs bed, staring at the ceiling, while the moonlight filtered through the triangle-shaped window, the soft glow of it lays over your face, feels like the world outside was holding its breath just for you.
Things between you and Stan had shifted in ways you hadnât expected. It wasnât quick or loud. At end, Stan let you get closer, but piece by piece, he was afraid you might notice if he let you too far in all at once.
The first time Stanley let you hug him, really hug him, was late in night. You werenât sure how it had happened, it wasnât planned, you reached for him first. You didnât even think about it, just pulled him close. You wrapped your arms around him, holding him carefully at first, waiting for him to tell you to stop. But he didnât. Stan stiffened at first, because the idea of being held was foreign to him, something he wasnât sure he was allowed to do. Then his face buried against your shoulder, and at first, you thought he was just tired, resting, taking what he needed and nothing more. But then you felt it. The dampness against your skin.
You realized with a sinking heart that Stan was crying.
It wasnât loud. No sobs, no gasping breaths. Just silent bitter tears soaking through your shirt, his grip tightening on you like he was afraid you might disappear, just like his brother. His body trembled slightly, now he couldnât hide anymore. It broke something in you, seeing him like this, this man felt so small in your arms.Â
He clung to you like a child, because no one had held him in years. No one, no one had hugged him like this since he left his family.
You sighed and held him tighter, feeling his tears soak into your skin. Stan wasnât just crying about tonight, he was crying for all the years heâd spent running, for all the times heâd pushed people away because it was easier than getting hurt. He was crying because, for the first time in so long, someone was holding him, and it wasnât just physical, it reminded him of what it felt like to be cared for. To not be alone.Â
Your hand gently stroking the back of his head, letting him melt into you like the child he probably hadnât been allowed to be in years. Decades, maybe. For the first time, Stan didnât feel like the tough man you knew him as. He felt small, fragile, like he was that little boy again, the one who had been left behind, pushed out of his family and told to figure it all out on his own.
Stanley pulled back, wiping his face roughly with the back of his hand, embarrassed as he looked down. But you didn't give him time to think again and regret his actions, you didnât let him feel that shame for long. You reached for the pack of cigarettes on the table, handing one to him without a word. Stan took it and you lit it for him, the soft click of the lighter the only sound in the room.
You sat together in that silence of the night, both of you smoking. You werenât drunk this time and that made everything feel more real, clear. It wasnât about the cigarettes, though. It was the quiet between you, the kind of quiet that didnât feel uncomfortable or awkward. Stan wasnât running anymore, he could finally relax, finally let himself breathe.Â
He looked up at the night sky, at the Milky Way stretching above you and smiled then, just a little, but it was there. A real, sincere smile. You hadnât seen that on him before, not like this. It wasnât the cocky grin he wore after dumb compliments or the smirk that followed some joke. This was softer. Stanley stared at the stars, his eyes reflecting the distant light and you wondered what he was thinking about. But while he was smiling, you were calm.Â
Stanford, real Stanford, heâs always been somewhere up there. In the stars, in the galaxies, in other world, always lost in science and mathematics, in things Stanley never really understood.
Nights passed like this more often, where it wasnât about the rush of everything. He didnât have to keep running anymore, didnât have to keep pretending he didnât care. Heâd gotten soft around you in a way that surprised both of you, but it felt right. He could relax now. He could let himself be vulnerable.
One night, after the smoking had long stopped, after the silence had stretched between you in that comfortable way again, the two of you ended up in his bed. Not in the desperate lust way you had before, but in a way that felt natural. Like this was where you both belonged, in each otherâs arms.
Stan was lying on your chest, his head resting against you as you calmingly ran your fingers through his hair, the brown strands slipping through your hands. He let out a long, contented sigh, relaxing into your touch.Â
You felt his breath against your skin, the slow rise and fall of his chest in sync with yours, and that made you understand just how fragile he really was. He never was the tough guy he always tried to be. Stanley Pines was was just a man trying to figure out how to feel again.
Stanâs arms wrapped loosely around you, holding on but not out of desperation this time. Just out of comfort. Out of need.
You smiled softly, your fingers still tangled in his hair. âIâm not going anywhere, Stan.â
And for the first time, he believed it and smiled.
***
It wasnât in Stanâs nature to lay everything out in some big, romantic gesture, not now. This will happen later when he gets older, much older. So there was no official conversation, no âwhat are we now?â that hung awkwardly in the air.
It happened one evening, at dusk, because at this time of day people always become more sincere and honest, the two of you sitting on the back porch, sharing the silence in the way youâd grown to love. He had that usual cigarette between his lips, the glow of the ember flickering in the dark and you were watching the stars. That's when he said it, which in his language meant âI love youâ:Â
âI think I like you best when youâre just with me and no one else.â
That was his way of telling you. You didnât need him to say the word love. You understood him well enough by now to know that what he felt was real and that was all you needed.Â
You didnât ask him to clarify, didnât push for more. Stan was never someone you could push. Instead, you waited. You knew he would tell you everything in time. He just needed to get there on his own, at his own pace.Â
Sometimes heâd disappear into the lab, working on some thing he barely explained, shrugging it off with that typical grumble about science and mathematics. âItâs all bullshit anyway,â heâd say, tossing his hands in the air. âI ainât ever understood that crap.â
âNot like my brother, heâs the smart one.â Stanley continued in his thoughts.Â
Then you started noticing the small changes. The way the bottles that once cluttered his desk and the corners of the shack were fewer now. He still drank, yeah, but not like before. He wasnât drowning himself in it anymore. It was like he was learning, little by little, how to exist without that forever haze of alcohol clouding his thoughts, feelings and memories.
Stan was still scared though. He was scared of a lot of things, scared youâd leave, scared youâd find out something about him and realise you couldnât stay. And then there were the nightmares. The ones he never talked about, but they were all the same, repeating every time. Youâd wake in the middle of the night to find him tense beside you, his breathing uneven, his hands gripping the sheets as though he was trying to hold on to something slipping away.Â
That haunted him. The portal, always the portal. Heâd never say it, at least not now. Heâs not ready yet. Heâs terrified that somehow, youâd be pulled into it too, just like Ford. That one day youâd be gone and heâd be alone again, abandoned forever.Â
But when your lips touches his in slow kiss, when you brush your fingers through his messy hair and kiss his forehead, all these fears are washed away. Youâd hold him close, feel his body relax against yours and slowly, slowly, his breathing would steady as the nightmares faded. There he stops dreaming about portals and disappearances. Instead, he sleeps deeply, peacefully, like a normal human being.
In the mornings, heâd stay in bed longer than you, his eyes still closed when you slipped out from under the covers. Heâd stretch, arms reaching out lazily, that rough voice of his so sleepy. âSweetheart, come right back,â heâd mumble. âiâve been waitinâ for you to slip back in bed.â heâd smile when heâd feel your warm body next to his.
Thatâs what made you fall in love with him harder.
The way he was always a bit softer in the mornings, not yet fully awake and not needing to be. He wasnât running anymore. Not from you, not from himself. For the first time in what felt like forever, Stan was learning what it meant to just be. To exist in the quiet moments. He still smoked, but it wasnât to escape anymore, it was just a part of him, something familiar, habit.Â
Stanley had spent so much of his life running, from his past, from laws, cops, states, from his brother, from his mistakes. But with you, for the first time, he wasnât running anymore. He was staying.
#stanley pines x reader#gravity falls x reader#gravity falls smut#x reader#gravity falls x you#stan pines x reader#stanford pines#gravity falls#stanley pines x you#stan pines smut#stan pines#stanley pines#grunkle stan#stan pines x you#stan pines x oc#gravity falls imagine#gravity falls fanfic#mullet stan#gravity falls fanfiction
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Haechan አPainted with You [M]
አNCT Dream Haechan x fem!reader አfeat.: short mentions of Renjun & Jeno አwords: ~15k አgenre: college AU, fwb to lovers, exes to lovers, fluff, slice of life, slow burn, pining, reader is a little dense, angst, humor, smut (switch!Haechan (but sub-leaning), oral (both receiving), hair pulling (idol receiving), unprotected sex, multiple orgasms, some begging, fingering, handjob, edging, orgasm denial (idol receiving), dry humping) አwarnings: alcohol consumption, depiction of anxiety and reader feeling burnt out, mentions of unhealthy coping mechanisms
Desc.: You and Donghyuck were a couple back in high school, each having your own reasons for dating the other, but ultimately what you seeked out in each other was a distraction. Now that you meet again five years later, you both come to realize that the connection between you is still there, and eventually itâs crystal clear that the people youâve become wonât be as easily separated as back then.
Author's note: aaaa I've had this in my drafts for sooo long avoiding to proofread it cause I wasn't happy with this at all... so now I finally came back to it to edit a bit and I think in the end it turned out quite okay^^ I hope you guys like it đ«¶
Thereâs a hint of victory in the smile he gives you when you sit down next to him. Like he knew it would come to this - that youâd get bored of exchanging mundanities with the others and eventually find yourself drawn to him as your only escape. And itâs not like you didnât know it too, it was clear from the moment you greeted each other with a hug that lasted shorter than it should have, and at the same time felt more familiar than you wanted it to. Yet his stance is inviting as he turns his whole body towards you in his seat, and the curiousity in his eyes is apparent.
âLong time no see,â he says, and it comes out softer than you wouldâve expected it to. And he probably had the same thought, because heâs clearing his throat now, talking more firmly as he continues, âWhat have you been up to?â The last time youâve seen each other was at your high school graduation ceremony, and since then itâs been almost five years. Which, as your former class president Renjun had decided, was about enough time to gather for a reunion.Â
âWell, you know. This and that,â you try to avoid an answer, but of course he wouldnât let you off the hook so easily. He knows you too well for that.
âCome on,â he snorts. âYou can tell me. My time wasnât spent in a purely productive manner either.â
âYou probably spent about 3 years total on just playing video gamesâŠâ you say with a grin playing on your lips, and you make him huff in disbelief, before his expression as well returns to a somewhat mischievous smile.Â
âNow that was just tactless,â he says, straightening his back now. âI quit uni to go to work, and then started again with a different major. So now Iâm a freshman!â He gives you a peace sign with his hand, sounding a lot prouder about the fact than he shouldâve been.
âFeeling like 19 again?â you joke.
âYes! Everyone automatically assumes Iâm their age,â he explains. âBut then I tell them Iâm older, so I can make them work for me!â An exaggeratedly mischievous laugh follows, and you can only shake your head at his shenanigans.
âYou havenât changed at all,â you say, turning away and facing the bartender working just a few seats away. Originally you were all going out for dinner and nothing more, but when some girls suggested paying a nearby bar a visit, nobody could refuse in the face of getting some booze into their veins. Maybe you arenât the only one whoâs getting fucked over by life.
âOne margarita,â you raise your hand and order, then you add, directed at Donghyuck, âAnything for you?â
âJust soju.â And so after placing both your orders, he adds, âStill canât drink the adult drinks?â
âExcuse you, it has alcohol in it, so it is an adult drink. But if youâre asking if I still hate bitter stuff - yes I do.â
âI see⊠anyway, Iâm not letting you get away without properly answering my question.â
âToo bad,â you respond. âWellâŠâ And then you hesitate. You remember what it was like between the two of you in high school. When you were dating, each for your own reasons and certainly not because you had feelings for each other. But he still felt like a friend you could entrust your deepest feelings with - you knew each other like the back of your own hand. And yet, you find yourself hesitating in the face of five years passed by without a word from the other. It wasnât like you had a fight or broke up on bad terms. Itâs just that you both agreed it would be better not to see each other again, for reasons that seemed smart at the time. But now that youâre looking at the person heâs become and how much he seems to have grown up, youâre not sure anymore what those reasons even were.
âThat bad?â Donghyuck interrupts your train of thought as he raises an eyebrow at you, and when you shake your head a short laugh escapes him.
âNo, just⊠Iâm also still in university,â you say. âI had to take a year off, so Iâm trying to finish everything now. Itâs not going great though.â
âOhâŠâ he looks away, directing his gaze at his hands that heâs hiding in the sleeves of his knitted sweater. âAre you managing though?â And thatâs when you suddenly feel the past and the present connect - the way he immediately becomes serious when the situation calls for it, just like he has always done, makes you feel safe to keep speaking, and to keep your heart open, just for a bit.
âItâs⊠difficult,â you admit. The bartender sets down your ordered drinks, causing another pause, and you acknowledge it with a nod. âIâm trying not to do too much, but you know whatâs it like living here.â
âYeah,â he says. âThat fucked you over before, didnât it?â
âYeah.â You fall silent after that, but not for long. Your conversation partner is Donghyuck after all, he wouldnât let an awkward silence get too long.
âI have changed⊠by the way.â You raise your eyebrows at him as he speaks those words, letting the sip of your cocktail slowly trickle down your throat.
âHave you?â you ask. âWell, I mean⊠youâve grown up.â
âOh?â Suddenly seeing him straightening his back as heâs overjoyed, you canât but giggle at the way his face is graced with a beaming smile now, but he glosses it over with a cough and a sip of his soju.
âBut you sure are still the same guy,â you add, a nostalgic smile on your lips.Â
âI guess,â he agrees, his features softening. Another pause falls upon you as you give your cocktail another taste, and this time itâs you who breaks the silence. Continuously chatting, youâre starting to feel a little tipsy from the sweet beverage after a while.
âI heard you got a girlfriend?â Donghyuck huffs, a wide smile meant to hide a bitter feeling appearing on his face.
âYeahâŠâ
âWhat about her?â you pry, sensing something off.
âDumped me,â he simply says, then pointing across the room and at Jeno, one of your former classmates. âFor that guy.â
âOuch.â
âItâs whatever,â he shrugs it off, pouring himself another glass and offering the shot to you instead. âYou sure you donât want any?â
âIâd rather have my own drink, thanks.â
âAlright. Then cheers.â He downs the shot, grimacing at the taste, and when he sets the glass back down, he adds, âI donât get why she went for him anyway. I bet itâs cause of all that muscle he got.â You canât help but chuckle at his words, and you hit his upper arm playfully.
âYou should hit the gym too and then see if you can get her back.â
âVery funny,â he replies dryly. âIâd rather die.â
âUnderstandableâŠâ you reply, taking another sip of your drink as well. âSo⊠youâre probably glad I finally came to you.â Donghyuck shoots you a questioning look and you explain yourself. âFor a distraction. Like in the old days, you know?â
âAhhâŠâ He merely lets out a sound, before staring at his empty shot glass.Â
âYouâre not doing that anymore?â you assume.
âI guess.â
âYeah⊠me too,â you say. âOr like⊠I stopped using people for it.â
You were dating back then, thatâs true, but you wouldnât go as far as to call yourselves high school sweethearts. You were both going through some stuff - for him it was a breakup with his first love, for you it was just life itself. When you were both at your lowest you started talking properly, and it soon became clear that you both wanted nothing more than to escape. And so you formed an alliance - as you used to call it, to everyone else you simply said that you were a couple now. You did behave like a couple, but just for the rush. The first time you held his hand you felt nothing, but when you made out secretly in the backyard of your school instead of attending class, thatâs when you were overwhelmed with excitement. It was a stupid idea, you know that now too, and it only worked for so long. You spent the summer of your junior year together, meeting up almost every day and talking, and eventually distracting yourselves by making out secretly in your or his room. And then your final year came, and as you started seeing yourselves forced to take life a bit more seriously, you gradually met up less, until you both agreed that breaking up would be the best decision, so that you could focus on your studies and try to get into a good university. At least for your part, you still have mixed feelings when you remember that day. Because you know you made the adult decision, but at the same time you always end up thinking back to what fooling around with him felt like when you have a bad day now, and youâd be lying if you said you didnât miss it at least a bit. But you found other distractions - obsessing over tv series, finding just the perfect kind of music to drown out your feelings, and sometimes, whenever you could find a good excuse to drink with friends, alcohol. Though youâre being careful with the latter, just as you are now. One drink is usually enough to help you relax a bit and not pay all the things stressing you out so much thought.
âSo when are we gonna start writing your redemption arc?â you ask nonchalantly, and he raises an eyebrow at you. âYour ex.â
âStop that, for real,â he says, and the way he remains serious tells you your joke wasnât well received.
âSorry,â you utter.
âItâs fine. I mean, itâs not fine, but you know what I mean.â
âYeah.â Heâs playing with the glass in his hands, thumb rubbing along its edge as he keeps staring at it, and you take the last few sips of your drink, before you too start spinning the cocktail glass around between your fingers.
âActuallyâŠâ Donghyuck speaks up, now throwing you an entirely different look. âHow about we get out of here. Maybe we could both use a distraction after all.â
âBut-â
âJust for today.â You stare at him blankly, blinking once, twice, then a third time. This sounds like a bad idea, but at the same time you know youâre probably not gonna see each other for the next five years, just like it was for the past five. So what would be so bad about taking his offer now?
âAlright,â you say eventually, having made up your mind. âMy place? Itâs nearby.â His lips are parted slightly as he watches you jump out of your seat and put on your jacket. As the air around you changes, so does the look in his eyes, and a moment later he gets up too, his arm wrapped loosely around your waist while he holds the door open for you as he walks you out of the place.
âYou really have changed,â you comment as youâre sneaking out, so none of the others would notice, and you giggle at your unnecessary secrecy once youâre past the entrance to the building.
âI can be a gentleman too!â he insists. âOf course a high school boy wouldnât think of that.â You catch the pout that forms on his lips as he adds the last part, and you inevitably laugh, pointing at his face.
âBut youâre also really still the same.â
You decide on going to your place, as itâs nearby, and you take a taxi there. Though you know this is only going to be a one time thing, neither of you seems to be in a rush. You take the elevator to the sixth floor, grinning at each other in silence the entire ride - maybe because this reminds the both of you a bit too much of the way you used to sneak off together all the time back in school. But once you arrive at your apartment, the atmosphere between you somehow changes, and as youâre walking over to your little kitchen to offer him a drink, he stops you, wrapping his arm around your waist. His touch is firm now, and he comes to a halt when heâs standing right in front of you, closer than a friend would, but leaving more distance between you than a lover would, and keeping his voice lowered, he asks,
âSo⊠are we going to go right to the distraction part? Or do we need to pretend that we still need to warm up to each other first?â You find him staring at your lips, then returning his gaze to your eyes as he waits patiently for your response. And you donât manage to come up with anything smart to say to him, so you simply take a step forward, wrapping your arms loosely around his shoulders, and you kiss him. His lips feel soft, just like you remember them, melting against yours perfectly. Yet thereâs a firmness to his kiss that feels new to you. He used to always kiss you with eagerness, too much of it at times, impatient to feel more of you and for you to take control. It was no secret between you two that he actually quite enjoyed being put into his place by you, and now that thereâs no such intentions apparent behind the way he moves his lips against yours, you find yourself having your breath taken away by the time you part.Â
âYou really did grow up wellâŠâ you mutter, barely an inch apart. âDid your ex teach you to kiss like that?âÂ
âWatch your mouth, Y/N,â he mutters darkly, another side of him thatâs not exactly new to you, but one that you havenât seen a lot in the past. And then he simply brushes his lips against yours again, softly and with care, quite in contrast to his sharp words. âI donât wanna ruin this with thoughts about people I donât know anymore.â
âRightâŠâ you whisper, and before you can add a mumbled apology, he presses his lips to yours again. In between short kisses that inevitably leave you longing for more, he steers you closer to the wall behind you, until he has you trapped against it. Your shoulders meet the cold surface gently, and as youâre slowly getting to know this different side of him, you feel yourself being swept off your feet like he never knew how to.Â
One of his hands resting on your waist, his fingertips creep towards your hip as youâre sharing an open mouthed kiss. A moan escapes you when he presses you up against the wall closer, and as he slowly parts from you, you can see the playful grin showing on his face now.
âYou changed too,â he comments, and again he closes the distance between you without giving you a chance to question his words. Your hands finding their way up into his short hair, your fingers get tangled with the strands and you carefully tug at them as he deepens this kiss as well. Heâs kissing you slowly as you let him have the lead naturally, and as you keep making out like this, you eventually find yourself burning up whole under his touch. He moves from your mouth to your neck eventually, and you lean your head back with a deep sigh as he begins scattering hot kisses all over the area. His hand thatâs been propped up against the wall now finds the back of your nape to support you, and when he comes back up, he whispers a question,
âDo we keep going like we used to? Or do you wanna go all the way this time?â Drunk on his kisses, you pull him in for another one on the mouth, and as you part you mutter,
âWeâre not kids anymore. Letâs go all the way.â You step aside and he lets you, and you reach for his hands to walk him over to your couch. Giving him a push, he lets himself fall back onto the sofa, leaning against the backrest as his curious gaze never leaves you. âDonât need this anymoreâŠâ you mumble as you pull off your shirt and throw it somewhere onto the ground, and then you crawl into his lap to straddle him. His hands find purchase on your hips immediately as he looks up at you with warm eyes. You cup his face in your hands and you lean in, capturing his lips in a teasing kiss. Sinking your teeth into his bottom lip, you lure a breathy moan out of him, and wanting to hear more, you keep kissing him like that. Feathery touches that would for sure make him want more eventually become overshadowed by you rolling his hips on top of him, and with each time he lets you hear his voice you become more eager. Itâs almost as if youâve become the one who canât wait, and heâs the one acting with patience.
âNever knew you could turn me on this much,â he mutters as you pull back, moving your hips at a leisurely pace. You can undoubtedly feel the bulge in his pants, and itâs certainly not leaving you unaffected.
âI grew up too, Hyuck,â you say, and then you bury your face in his neck. You kiss a trail up to the spot right below his ear as he leans back, and his hands wander up your sides and to your back when you start nibbling on his skin.Â
âMhm⊠you did, hm?â he answers. He finds the clasp of your bra and undoes it, and as the piece of clothing slides down your arms, you sit back so he can take it off you and fling it to the ground as well, somewhere in the general direction of where your shirt should be. He holds onto your sides as he takes in the sight in front of him, and as he draws closer to connect his lips to the skin on your chest, you can hear him saying,
âI know I never told you this as a boy but you look beautiful. I really regret not saying that to you.â He kisses his way up from the valley of your breasts to your throat and then back to your mouth, and just before he can connect his lips to yours, you whisper,
âItâs fine. I mightâve actually fallen for you if you had done that.â You laugh, and he does too, but his grin has a different meaning to it than yours.
âDonât say that. We donât want anything unfortunate to happen.â Connecting his lips to yours, he runs his tongue across them to ask for permission to enter, and without protest you let him deepen the kiss.
âNow youâre the one who said it,â you mumble a response in between kisses. âThatâs a stupid thought anyway.â
âRight.â His fingertips dance south along your spine, and he eventually tugs at your pants as a sign that he wants those off as well. And so you peel yourself out of his hold, and while youâre discarding your jeans, he slips out of his shirt, and both clothing items land somewhere on the floor, soon to be forgotten. He makes you lie down flat on the couch as he crawls on top of you, and when he leaves a trail of small kisses up your torso, one of his hands finds its way to your hips, thumb hooking under the fabric of your panties.
âThese too,â he says. âI want these off too.â You give him the okay to take them off as you comb your fingers through his hair once, and as soon as heâs gotten rid of the last piece of clothing on your body, he lowers himself to let his lips draw a map of your figure. Feeling his warm hands against your sides, you let out a sigh as you lean your head back and you close your eyes for a bit, just enjoying the way his kisses feel against your skin. Your hands fly to his hair again, and you find yourself massaging his scalp as heâs slowly going down on you. You let him lift your legs up onto his shoulders eventually, and when he buries his face between your legs, you canât but let out a small moan. Tongue lapping at your folds, he hums at your taste, and then he wraps his lips around your clit, sucking on it gently.Â
âThat feel good?â he asks, slurring his words a bit, and you nod, tugging at the strands of hair between your fingers.
âYeah. Keep goingâŠâ And so he does, alternating between teasing you with his lips and the tip of his tongue, and when he retrieves one hand to slide his fingers inside you, he comments,
âSo wet for me, hm?â
âY-yeahâŠâ You can unmistakably feel the knot in your stomach being tied tighter with every single touch of his, and when he pumps his fingers in and out of you at a frustratingly slow pace, you find yourself begging for more. âFaster⊠p-pleaseâŠâ Donghyuck simply hums at your plea, before he obliges, curling his fingers inside you just a little faster. Gradually picking up on speed, the way he flicks his tongue against your clit along with the waves of pleasure that run through your body with each time he hits that sweet spot inside you make you slowly lose your mind, and you let him know just how good heâs making you feel by moaning in tune with his movements.
âDonât stop⊠please donât stopâŠâ you mewl as you look down on yourself to find him already gazing back up at you, observing all of your reactions closely through half-lidded eyes. Just a few more repetitions and heâs throwing you over the edge, making you clench around his fingers as you throw your head back with a moan. âFuckâŠâ you mutter after he pulls out of you carefully, and he crawls back up to kiss you on the lips. You can taste yourself on his tongue as you share a lazy kiss, and once you part, you place your palms on his chest to push him off you.
âYour turn,â you simply state as you sit up and you make some space so you can comfortably kneel in front of the sofa. Getting the message, he hurriedly rids himself of his pants and boxers, and when he sits down in front of you, you donât waste another second to wrap your fingers around his length. Giving him a few strokes, heâs fully hard in no time, and he watches as he leans back, enjoying the attention.
âYou really have no patience anymore, huh,â he mutters, and you lick your lips before returning his gaze.
âWant me to torture you a bit? Make you beg for it? I can do that too.â
âI can beg if you want me to,â he retorts, the confident expression not being wiped off his face so easily, and you decide to keep that piece of information in mind. Just in case. But for now youâre not planning on making him wait - heâs right, youâve become impatient, and youâre dying to know what kind of sounds you might lure out of him with his dick in your mouth. You swirl your tongue around his tip a few times, watching him part his lips slightly as he lets you hear a deep sigh and a praise directed at you. âThatâs rightâŠâ he mutters, and when you take his tip into your mouth fully, he lets you hear a moan so sweet, you swear you could cum just from the sound of it. Slowly bobbing your head up and down and having your hand thatâs wrapped around his base follow those same movements, you enjoy the way he keeps moaning at your ministrations, until eventually you hum in approval and he whines from the pleasure.
âFuckâŠâ A curse escapes him when his tip hits the back of your throat and you gag a little, and you find yourself amused at how easy it is to make a guy whine as soon as you have him in a position like this. You go painfully slow, but he takes all of your teasing, and just when you start feeling bad for him because of how desperate his moans are, you speed up, making sure to take him in as far as you can.Â
âShit, Y/NâŠâ he calls out to you. âWait-â
âHm?â You come up at his words, letting him slip out of your mouth.
âWanna cum in your pussyâŠâ The request makes you grin.
âSo demandingâŠâ you mutter, shooting him a challenging look.
âPleaseâŠâ he tries to convince you, his pupils shaking as heâs awaiting your answer. But youâve already made up your mind on how youâre going to proceed, and so you merely throw him a grin, before taking him back into your mouth. He throws his head back at you sucking him off at a faster pace now, probably in a mixture of frustration and pleasure, and as more curses fall from his lips along with your name, you know heâs close. You hum at his desperation and at the way heâs twitching in your hand while heâs bucking his hips up into your touch, and the next time youâre sinking all the way down on him, he cums with a moan. You try to swallow everything as he releases into your mouth, and when you let go of him you lick your lips to get the rest of it too, all while he watches with a hazy mind. And then you crawl into his lap, leaving a trail of kisses down the side of his throat, and eventually you say,
âWhy not both?â You grab his face in one hand, gaze falling to his lips, and before he can say anything you kiss him to cut off his train of thought. âWe have so much time tonightâŠâ you mutter against his lips in between kisses, and he merely lets out small moans at your words. âWe can do all the things we want. But letâs move somewhere more comfortable first.â And so you hurriedly walk over to your bedroom, Donghyuck pushing you against the mattress as soon as youâre there, and he doesnât waste a single second to kiss you again. His lips nipping at your collarbones, you throw your arms around him, until finally you switch positions again, and you end up sitting on top of him, sinking down on his hard cock and biting your lower lip from how good it feels to be filled up like this.
âFuckâŠâ Now itâs you whoâs cursing, fingers intertwined with his as youâre pinning his hands down to keep yourself stable. You know heâs drinking up the sight in front of him as you start slowly riding him, and the way he looks at you only turns you on more.Â
âShit, you look so pretty like thisâŠâ he mumbles, completely taken aback, and he sits up, freeing his hands to hold onto your sides instead. âCan I kiss you?â
âYouâre asking that now?â you chuckle as you wrap your arms around his shoulders and he lets out a short laugh as he too realizes how ridiculous his question was.
âYouâre right,â he mutters, leaning in. âThen Iâll just kiss you whenever I want.â A rush of heat courses through your body as he presses his lips against yours, and you roll your hips on top of him just a little faster.
âPlease do,â you whisper, barely audible, before Donghyuck closes the distance between you again. You take your time making out, until both of you feel that youâre coming close again, and with one hand between your bodies, he starts rubbing your clit for you as you keep your pace.
âIâll help you,â he whispers, unable to take his eyes off your face as youâre both completely drunk on the otherâs touches.
âMhmâŠâ you moan, chasing your own high on top of him. Youâre the first one who comes undone, digging your nails into his shoulders and burying your face in the crook of his neck as your high shakes you.
âDonât stop, Y/NâŠâ His words sound desperate, and you do your best to keep moving despite feeling the overstimulation building up. He has both his hands on your back now, and you let out a moan when you feel him dragging his nails down to your hips. âShitâŠ!â Spitting out a curse, he releases inside you, and finally you come to a halt. You stay in your positions for a while, waiting until your heartbeats have returned to a normal pace in each otherâs arms, before you both lie down side by side, out of breath and grinning at the other.
âDidnât think youâd get that good without meâŠâ he mutters a comment.
âHey!â you shout playfully. âWhat was I supposed to do if you just disappear on me like that?â
âYou didnât contact me either,â he tries to defend himself, but you both know it was him who stopped replying to your messages, even though your conversations were already scarce after graduating. For now you decide to say nothing - your mind filled with bliss from what your night out ended up turning into, you wouldnât want to ruin the mood. Instead, heâs the one to break the silence.
âWanna keep going?â he asks, scooting over closer to you and making you lie flat on your back, kissing a trail down your jawline and placing a hand on top of your stomach. âI wanna keep going,â he adds, more silently, as his fingers are already wandering south.
âAlright,â you mutter, your hand up in his hair again as he drags his fingers down your folds, dipping inside once and then coming back up to your clit to draw circles onto it. âIf I walk weird tomorrow itâs your fault,â you add, laughing.
âYou just made me wanna see that,â he jokes back, before pressing a kiss to the side of your throat and letting his fingers take care of you.
You keep in touch after that, texting each other throughout the day - even on those days where you barely find the time or energy to be social, youâll at least send some memes back and forth - and meeting up whenever you both have some free time. It really feels like youâre continuing right where you had left off five years ago whenever you find yourselves unable to stop laughing because of your own bickering, or when youâre sitting side by side, having a more serious conversation and simply offering an open ear to the other. And at the same time something about the way you treat each other has undoubtedly changed. Of course you both grew up and youâre more mature than you were as high school students, but it seems thereâs something else lingering in the air during every interaction you have, you just canât really put your finger on what that is.Â
You also keep meeting up to have sex.Â
âSo? What does that make us?â you ask a question into the dimly lit room, staring up at the ceiling. Youâre both lying side by side on his bed, the sheets beneath you messed up as evidence of what youâve been doing, and the chilly air in the room hitting your skin lets you cool down a bit.
âWhat? This?â Donghyuck asks, turning his head so he could look at you.
âYeah,â you respond. âWeâre not just friends if weâre constantly hooking up, are we?â Your words are accompanied by a chuckle, meant to tell him that youâre not being as serious as you sound. Or maybe you are, but mostly because your other friends keep asking where youâre sneaking off so frequently these days, and why you donât seem to have the time to meet up with them anymore. And everytime you tell them youâre seeing a different friend, a part of you feels like youâre lying. Maybe thatâs because theyâve stopped believing you too, and they keep urging you on to finally admit that youâre dating someone. But youâre not dating Donghyuck, right?
âFuckbuddies?â He rolls onto his side, head supported by his hand, and he gives you a mischievous look.
âI guess,â you say, and after some consideration you add, âMy friends keep asking who Iâm meeting all the time. They think I have a boyfriend.â
âWell, what does it feel like when you kiss me?â Youâre too stunned to speak for a moment, not expecting him to pose such a serious question.
âI mean⊠youâre a good kisser?â You grin at him, rolling onto your side as well so you could face him, and as youâre drawing near, heâs already reaching out to capture your chin between his thumb and index finger.
âThatâs all?â
âI think so.â He lets his lips brush against yours, puffy and reddened from making out earlier, and you feel warmth wrap around you. You also feel safe with him, but thatâs not exclusively related to him kissing you, so you donât feel the need to mention it.
âThen I canât be your boyfriend,â he mutters when you part.
âSo friends⊠with benefits then?â
âYeah.â
âWell, great,â you say, letting yourself fall onto your back, sinking into the mattress. âI canât go around telling my friends that Iâm seeing a fuckbuddy.â Your friend giggles beside you.
âI mean you donât have to,â he says. âIf itâs easier to explain, you can just pretend youâre seeing a boyfriend. I donât mind.â
âI wonderâŠâ you mumble, more to yourself than to him. âThen theyâll want to meet you, so⊠anyway.â You sit up, letting your feet dangle off the side of the bed. âIâm kinda hungry. You wanna order something?â
âIâll make us some ramen. But we should shower first.â He sits up as well, and when you throw him a look over your shoulder, he cocks his head to the side, giving you another grin. âTogether?â You laugh at his suggestion.
âYou just want another round in there, donât you? Weâre never gonna get food in that case. Iâm going alone.â
âAwwwâŠâ he whines in defeat and it makes you smile. You crawl closer to him, placing a peck onto his pouting lips.
âWe kiss an awful lot for fuckbuddies, though,â you remark, and then you get up.
âI donât think weâre kissing nearly enoughâŠâ he mumbles an answer. Amused by his words, you shoot him another glance, and then you trot off to the bathroom.Â
âYou free Friday night?â You glance at your phone screen when it lights up to quickly read Donghyuckâs message that you just received, and as you let out a sigh, you return your focus to the notebook in front of you. Skimming through your handwritten notes from the lecture you visited every wednesday afternoon a year ago still gives you anxiety - youâre not sure what more youâre supposed to study than this and the materials displayed on your laptop screen, and yet you donât feel nearly prepared enough. Youâre in your last semester - or at least youâre planning for this to be the last one - and you finally forced yourself to register for the exam you keep postponing because you horribly failed it the first time. The worst part is that itâs an oral exam, so no turning back once youâve answered (or not answered) a question, even if a better response comes to you later on during the exam. And you hate that, because you know your brain tends to black out in stressful situations, and panicking while youâre supposed to recite your knowledge on a complicated topic doesnât exactly help with that. You tear your eyes away from the materials eventually, taking another sip of your coffee and then picking up your phone off the small round dinner table in your flat.
âSorry, I donât have time then ă
ă
â You press send, and it doesnât take long for your friend to reply.
âOn the weekend? Iâm busy Saturday but Sunday is fine!!â
âI donât think I can make time until Tuesday. Sorry. Difficult exam coming upâŠâ
âThen you should take a break!! Iâm sure youâve been studying all dayâ Heâs not wrong with his assumption, but still you canât bring yourself to set aside a few hours to fool around with him. You wouldnât be able to relax and truly get the exam off your mind anyway, so you refuse again, even if it hurts you.
Itâs been like this for a while now. The last time youâve seen Donghyuckâs face was almost three weeks ago - after that university and sending job applications have taken up all your free time, and the few hours you had in between to rest you simply spent alone in the comfort of your own apartment, feeling too exhausted to even consider making plans with someone else. You know it might do you good to get out more for other things than going to uni, but at the same time you know you simply donât have the energy right now - or you wouldâve already scheduled a meetup with friends. It sucks, and youâre hoping for some space to breathe in between your schedules sometime soon, but at the same time you know you will be busy with uni until your graduation, and from then on youâll be busy getting accustomed to work and proving yourself there. And the more you think about it, the more it starts to dawn on you that things will likely not change in the near future, and that somehow the life of a freshman and that of a senior donât really match well at all.
But you brush those thoughts off for now. The last thing you need right now is a distraction, and so you get back to revising the contents for the exam.
And then comes Sunday afternoon, and you can feel the panic coursing through your veins as if you were about to suffocate from it any second now. Youâve always had some kind of exam anxiety, but itâs never been this bad, and you have absolutely no idea what to do with it except endure and hope that tomorrow will pass quickly. Thatâs when your phone buzzes to let you know youâve gotten a message, and what you see when you open the chat room tips you over the edge.Â
âThis wouldâve been more fun if we had watched it together~â - along with a picture of a laptop screen showing the credits of a movie, the interior of Donghyuckâs flat showing in the background. Your hands are shaking as you read his message, your head spinning because suddenly the stress and a feeling of helplessness overwhelms you. You end up doing the first thing that comes to mind - you call him. He picks up after the first ring.
âJealous?â he teases you, and you stay quiet, your words suddenly stuck in your throat. Hearing only your ragged breathing, he sounds serious when he continues talking after a few moments of silence. âAre you okay?â
âNo.â
âWhatâs up? Wanna talk about it?â
â...the examâŠâ
âAhh⊠youâre freaking out because of it?â
âY-yeahâŠâ Tears well up in your eyes, but you fight hard to keep them from falling. You know if you start crying now, chances are you wonât be able to talk properly in order to explain yourself to him. âI studied everything but I donât feel like itâs enough⊠I have no idea how Iâm supposed to pass tomorrowâŠâ A sob escapes you at the end of it, and Donghyuck doesnât hesitate to answer,
âIâll come over. Just wait for me and hold tight, Iâll be there in 30.âÂ
And so thatâs what he does. He doesnât even give you the time to refuse when he hangs up, and sure enough roughly 30 minutes later heâs at your doorstep. Putting down his bags and taking off his shoes, the first thing he does is pull you into a tight hug.
âCome here,â whispered against the side of your head as heâs already holding you close, he hugs you until he can feel some of the tension leaving your body. When he finally lets you go, he picks up a paper bag he brought with him, holding it out to you and you take it from him. âI bought them on the way. I thought you could use some comfort food.â A glance inside the bag reveals a box decorated with the logo of your favourite bakery.
âOh my god⊠thank you!â you exclaim, and you give him another hug as he lets out a bit of an awkward laugh.
âAh, itâs fine, itâs nothing. Letâs have these while we go over your materials together, okay?â
âHuh?â You take a step back and raise your eyebrows at him.
âI came to help you study. So you can kick ass tomorrow!â Throwing a fist in the air in a victorious gesture, you cringe a bit at his childlike enthusiasm, but at the same time you feel thankful. Like you had been in free fall for the past days and finally someone came to catch you.
âOkay,â you accept his offer to help, and then you walk over to the small table in your living room where your laptop and your notes are scattered all over. Briefly organizing them, you skim through them together, and when youâve reached the end of it, Donghyuck starts asking you random questions related to the topic that he can come up with. And with every question that you manage to answer, you feel just a little calmer, until youâve gone through everything several times and itâs long dark outside.
âYouâre gonna do well tomorrow,â the guy sitting next to you tells you, throwing his hand up in the air to do some stretching and you do the same, your body aching for a bit of movement after sitting down for hours.Â
âYou think so?â
âOf course!â He seems almost offended at you doubting yourself now. âLook at all these things you memorized perfectly! Youâre gonna be just fine.â
âYouâre rightâŠâ you mutter. âI do feel more confident now.â Yet, you let your head hang.
âButâŠ?â he asks.
âBut⊠I know by the time the exam starts tomorrow Iâll be so nervous, I might forget everythingâŠâ He reaches for your hands, taking them into his and giving both of them a gentle squeeze as he looks intently at your face.
âThen you think about how well you just did and how long we just spent repeating everything you studied. With this much preparation, thereâs no way you would fail.â You know that realistically speaking, thatâs not necessarily true, but you decide to believe him for now. Putting trust into his words puts you at ease, so thatâs what youâre going to do.
âAlright,â you say. âItâll be fine.â
âOf course it will,â he says, laughing as if he had not a single doubt about it.
âButâŠâ
âAnother but?â
âItâs almost 2am,â you say.
âOh.â
âWanna stay over? It takes you ages to get home if you have to take the night buses, right?â
âItâs fine, Iâll just take a taxi,â he replies, adding, âI donât wanna stress you out more by staying over.â
âNo, I-â All the times you felt yourself forced to turn down his invitations to meet up during the past few weeks are suddenly fresh in your memory, and eventually you manage to say, âIâd actually be thankful if you could stay over⊠you know⊠keep the bad thoughts awayâŠâ
âSureâŠâ he responds, and growing very quiet suddenly, he gets up to wrap you into another hug. âIâll stay.â
You each take a shower and get ready for bed, him throwing on some of his clothes you had lying around at your place anyway, and when you get under the sheets together, it feels different than usually when you sleep in the same bed. Neither of you has any thoughts about having sex for a change, and instead he simply pulls you close to let you rest your head on top of his chest. You wrap an arm around his waist as you listen to his heartbeat, already feeling sleepiness overcome you as you snuggle up to him and you can feel him drawing mindless patterns onto your skin. You feel a sense of peace and safety washing over you when your eyelids simply fall shut, and as you fall asleep you almost donât register the way he presses a soft kiss onto your forehead.
When you open the email telling you that you got a C on your exam, the first thing you can think of doing is letting Donghyuck know.Â
âI passed!!!â You send him a message, and he surely doesnât let you wait too long for an answer, along with a little sticker of a bear wearing a gold medal and giving a thumbs up.
âI told you so!!â
âItâs all thanks to you,â you write. âWe need to go celebrate! Drinks on me.â
âSounds good~â
With a broad smile on your face you put your phone into the pocket of your padded jacket. It has become cold outside, and thereâs a thin layer of snow on the streets from last night. Itâs the beginning of December, and before Christmas and new years youâre still going to be very busy. You have two job interviews coming up, have to prepare for your final exams and in between you should find some time to work on your dissertation. Still somehow youâre confident that you would easily be able to find a date where you can go out for your little celebration with your friend, but when you run into him on campus a week later, reality hits you right in the face.
âY/N!â Donghyuck calls out to you as he spots you among a bunch of other students, and you fall behind to briefly talk to him.
âOh, hi,â you say, not having seen him at all.
âYou still didnât reply to my messages,â he remarks and you immediately pull out your phone, indeed finding that youâve left him on read two days ago.
âOh my god, Iâm so sorry,â you apologize as you remember that you clearly had the intent to respond to him, but then very obviously failed to do so. âAh, if we can meet⊠today?âÂ
âYesterday,â he corrects you. âBut I guess that didnât happenâŠâ You can unmistakably see the disappointment in his expression, even though heâs doing his utmost to hide it, and you furrow your brows at the sight in front of you.Â
âIâm sorry⊠I mustâve forgotten to reply while studying or something,â you say, unable to look him in the face. âYou know, finals coming up.â
âYeah⊠Iâm studying a lot too these days,â he says, quickly adding, âBut I guess as a senior itâs only natural that youâre even busier than I am.â His words sting for some reason, but itâs not like heâs wrong. Truth be told, youâve been studying every free minute for the past few days, and in between you had a job interview that you donât have the best of gut feelings about. You were so busy that you barely manage to have three meals a day, and yet you feel guilty about not being able to make time for him.
âIâm really sorry, HyuckâŠâ you say and he mutters an âitâs okayâ as an answer. âBut itâs not, is it?â To that he merely glances to the side, showing a sorry smile. And right then you have an idea. âYou know what?â As you reach out to take his hand into yours, he raises his eyebrows at you, taken by surprise by your sudden action. âLetâs set a date right now. Then we donât have to worry about me forgetting to reply or something.âÂ
âBut⊠that wonât change the fact that youâre super busyâŠâ he reasons, but you cut him off.
âItâs fine, I should be able to spare at least a few hours,â you say, opening your calendar app on your phone and scrolling through the days until exam week starts. âHow about next Friday? Friday night sounds like a good time for a little study break and having a celebration instead.â
âS-sure.â You barely notice how heâs atypically dumbfounded at your enthusiasm, only focusing on the fact that you finally found a date to see each other again.
âGreat! My place or yours?â you ask, already typing it into your phone.
âMine⊠you wanna bring the drinks? Then Iâll take care of the food,â he offers, now taking his phone out as well, probably to put the meet up into his calendar as well.
âSounds good,â you say in a rush. âThen Iâll see you Friday! Sorry, but⊠I really have to go now. I was gonna study some more at the library - you coming too?â
âAh, no, I⊠have class in half an hour,â he explains briefly, and as you wave your goodbyes and youâre already running off, you fail to notice how his shoulders are suddenly slouched over and thereâs a hint of disappointment in the way he looks at you as youâre walking away.
You sigh as you stare at the email you just received, and you immediately regret even checking your mailbox in the middle of studying in the first place. You got rejected for the last job you applied to - but at least you should be thankful that they let you know about it in the first place, right? After all, the last two companies didnât even do that much after your interview with them. You gulp, trying to swallow all the disappointment bubbling up inside and attempting to shove it back down to where it came from, and then eventually you cross your arms on the table, resting your head on top and you close your eyes for a while. Another sigh escapes you, and you feel the weight of your responsibilities lay heavily on your shoulders. Youâre trying not to beat yourself up over not having found a job for after your graduation yet - you know that everyoneâs struggling with finding employment these days. But you really donât want to take on a job youâre overqualified for, or one thatâs not in your field of studies at all. Youâve already made too many compromises because of this, like being willing to move to another city for your job, or expanding on what type of positions youâre applying to. And still, nothing. Itâs starting to get to you, even though you hate that it is, and even though you had told yourself to focus on your exams and your dissertation first and foremost. But all of these things stacked on top of each other have led you to lose your spark a bit, and thereâs no denying youâre starting to feel burnt out.Â
You tell yourself itâs fine, it will pass and eventually your life will get less stressful again. But for now you can feel that youâre at your limit, and you could really use some comfort.
âRight,â you mutter to yourself, lifting your head and looking at the date displayed in the bottom corner of your laptop screen. âOnly a few hours to go. Then I can see him.â Itâs Friday afternoon, and so you take a deep breath and bring yourself to study some more, before you can finally go to Donghyuckâs place, spending a full evening not having to think about any of this. Burying your head in your books and your lecture notes, you end up not realizing how fast the time is passing, and next time you check the clock, itâs already past 7.Â
âOh godâŠâ you quickly pick up your phone, seeing that your friend already sent you a message asking where you are. You were scheduled to be at his place at 7, but somehow you completely lost track of time.
âIâm so sory I didnât realize hwo late is is. Ill hurry!!â You type up that message as quickly as possible, ignoring the typos as you send it, and then you jump out of your seat to get ready.Â
Itâs almost 8pm when he opens the door for you and you apologize first thing as you hand him the tote bag with the alcohol you had promised to bring.
âAh, but you thought of the important stuff,â he says with a forced smile, trying to brighten the mood a bit before he invites you in and you kick off your shoes and take off your coat to follow him inside.
âIâm really really sorry,â you say once again when youâve made yourself comfortable on his couch. âI was studying and suddenly it was already this lateâŠâ
âItâs okay,â Donghyuck says as he carries over two glasses from the kitchen, handing you one of them. âWeâre both busy, itâs not like I donât understand.â
âBut youâre upset.â
âA little,â he admits without looking you in the eyes, and when he continues talking, he does his best to sound cheerful. âBut letâs not let that ruin the entire evening. We were both looking forward to today, right?â
âYeah,â you say. âYou wonât believe how glad I am to finally be here,â you add, and you feel the way your body relaxes just by being near him. You earn yourself a bright smile for that comment, before he lifts up the glass in his hand.
âI found the recipe for this a few days ago and wanted to try it,â he says. âI thought itâs your style.â You find a few ice cubes swimming in the beverage he handed you, along with a slice of lemon. The color is a dark shade of yellow at the bottom, and completely transparent at the top, and you nod at the presentation.
âIt looks good,â you say. âIâll try it. Cheers!â Each taking a sip, you agree that you like the taste, and the guy sitting next to you on his sofa explains,
âThe recipe says you should put a bit of mint in as well, but⊠I didnât have any.â
âI think itâs good the way it is⊠but, Iâm starving. Letâs order food?â
âMe too,â he answers, getting out his phone.Â
You order takeout, and while you eat and drink, you watch a movie that youâve both been wanting to see for some time. You end up chatting here and there during less interesting scenes, and even though you enjoy the movie overall, you enjoy talking to him more. Eventually, as your eyelids begin to feel heavy, you rest your head on his shoulder and he lets you, and you donât think anything of the peaceful smile he gives you upon feeling you so close to him. He puts one of his hands on top of your thigh, mindlessly rubbing his palm up and down, and by the end of the movie you canât deny anymore that his actions are affecting you. Credits still rolling, you turn your head to face him, and wordlessly you kiss him, his lips melting against yours. You part for a mere second in which you put your hand behind his neck, and as you let yourself fall against the backrest of his sofa, he hovers above you, distance closing again.Â
âHyuckâŠâ you breathe his name when you part the next time. âNeed youâŠâ
âLetâs go somewhere more comfortable,â he mutters into a sweet kiss, and then he gets up, taking you by your hands to pull you up along with him. As soon as you step into the bedroom you pull him in for another kiss, and you stumble backwards as he steers you towards his bed. He barely lets you lie down when heâs already on top of you, kissing you more deeply. Tongue running across your lip to ask for permission to enter, you allow it without hesitation, and you moan at the way he kisses you slowly but passionately.Â
âIâll take care of you,â he says after parting, âjust lean back, okay?â
âOkayâŠâ you answer and he lets his fingertips wander down your clothed body. Undoing the button of your jeans, he unhurriedly slips his hand inside them, and he watches you intently as his fingertips brush against your soaked panties, his voice sultry as he teases you, âSo wet already⊠I didnât know you were that desperate for meâŠâ Before letting you answer, he leans in to place a lingering kiss to the corner of your mouth, starting to rub up and down between your folds slowly.
âI thought Iâd go crazy without thisâŠâ you confess, arms wrapped around him and one hand up in his hair. You play with his locks as he teases you, and you whine, âMore, please⊠donât make me wait even longerâŠâ
âWhat do you want, baby?â he asks, and then he buries his face in your neck, leaving kisses there as you throw your head back.
âAnything⊠even if itâs just your fingers, please just get me offâŠâ you beg, only now realizing just how desperate you really are. Donghyuck gulps at your words, and he kisses his way up to your jaw and along it, until his lips are hovering right above yours.
âTell me how badly you need meâŠâ he mutters, pushing the fabric of your underwear aside so he could touch you directly. âI wanna hear everything.â As he starts rubbing small circles on your clit his lips go back to tending to your neck, kissing and nipping on the sensitive skin and making it that much more difficult for you to form coherent sentences. Still you canât but do as told.
âSo bad⊠need you so bad,â you mewl. âI tried to get off so many times, but nothing feels as good as when you touch meâŠâ He hums at your words, granting you a finger dipping inside your pussy for just a moment in return and gasping at just how wet you are.
âIâll make up for it,â he says. âIâll make you cum so good.â You whimper, and then you instinctively buck your hips as his finger ghosts above your entrance. You hear him curse through gritted teeth at how needy youâre becoming, and blood rushes to your head from the thought alone that your state could turn him on so much as well.
âPlease⊠just give me your fingersâŠâ you whine, and to your surprise Donghyuck doesnât drag out his teasing for longer. And so you cry out when he pushes inside, pumping in and out of you while watching your every reaction to his touch. âFuckâŠâ you hiss, already seeing your high approaching from far away. âIâm not gonna last longâŠâ
âItâs okay,â he coos over you. âWanna feel you cum around my fingers⊠can you take another one?â
âY-yes⊠yes pleaseâŠâ you say mindlessly, only being able to think about how you want to feel him more. The stretch is bearable when he pushes into you with three fingers, and when he presses his thumb against your bundle of nerves, fingering you skillfully, you think youâre about to lose your mind. âFuck⊠yes⊠donât stop, pleaseâŠâ you mewl as he slowly picks up speed until he can see the bliss on your facial features. At this point all you can do is moan his name and dig your nails into his shoulder blades as you cling to him, bucking your hips in chase of your orgasm.Â
âShit, youâre so prettyâŠâ you hear him mutter under his breath as he marvels at the sight in front of him, and next thing you know your whole body is shaken by the force of your high. You whine as he fucks you through it, right until your last aftershocks, and then you simply close your eyes as you lay back on his bed, feeling the exhaustion from the past weeks taking over you. Licking his fingers clean after pulling out of you, he then captures your chin between his thumb and index finger to make you look at him.
âWhat do you want me to do next?â he asks, his words sounding maybe even sweeter than usual to your ears, and you blame it on the way your mind is still in a haze from your orgasm. You think about it for a short while, and in the end you simply snuggle up to him closely.
âLetâs just⊠stay like this for a while,â you answer. âIf thatâs okay with you⊠I think I just need to be close to you.â
âSureâŠâ Donghyuck mutters, a bit taken aback by your response that mustâve come very unexpectedly to him. However, he doesnât hesitate to put an arm around your frame, making you feel safe in a warm embrace. âThat good?â he asks, and when you nod he presses his lips against your forehead, lingering there for a while.
You donât move, not knowing how much time is passing while youâre merely listening to the otherâs breathing and enjoying each otherâs warmth. At that moment, you wish you could stay like this forever, but as you close your eyes and begin to relax, all your thoughts from the past weeks about your situation with him catch up to you one by one. Deep inside you know it canât stay like this. And the longer youâre dragging this out, the more clearly you can see just how unfair this is on him. And so eventually, you donât see any other plausible course of action to take next than to start talking.
âThank you⊠for being by my side,â you mutter. Your hand having found its way into his, youâre playing with his fingers, eyes focused on that. âI donât know what I wouldâve done without you lately⊠really.â
âOf course!â he responds, moving back a bit to get a proper look at your face. âYou know Iâd do anything for you.â You chuckle at his exaggerated words, letting go of his hand and ruffling his hair instead.
âIâm glad to have met you again,â you continue. âBut⊠Iâve been thinking, you know? And I donât think we can go on like this.â
âWhatâŠ?â
âJust⊠Iâm only gonna get busier, you knowâŠ?â The exact moment that he sits up, his comforting touch being torn away from you as he stares at you with disbelief on his face, you inevitably begin to feel like you fucked up. But you started this now, and thereâs no way you could dig yourself back out of this mess, so you decide itâd be for the best to just see it through and be honest with him. âYou know that I could never pay you back all that youâve done for me⊠Hyuck.â You call out his name, but he barely even reacts with nothing but a blank expression in his eyes. You couldâve sworn youâve never seen him this pale. âIâm gonna graduate, Hyuck. Youâll still be a student when I start working. Hell, I might have to move somewhere completely different if I donât find a job in this city soon. And once I do find employment, Iâm gonna have to work my ass off to prove my worth. I wonât have time to fool around like this anymoreâŠâ
âFool⊠aroundâŠ?â he repeats, speaking slowly, as his expression suddenly reflects a hundred complicated feelings. âFool around⊠was all this is to you?â
âI mean⊠weâre friends too, obviously-â
âY/N,â he cuts you off, and the way he says your name stabs you like a knife. âI have feelings too, you know. You canât justâŠâ A bitter laugh escapes him. âYouâre going to tell me that itâs better if we didnât see each other anymore, arenât you?â
âNo!â you immediately refute. âI mean-... look, we can stay friends, but I donât know how much weâll actually be able to see each other-â
âFriends?â he repeats in utter disbelief. âYou donât realize it, do you?â
âRealize what-â
âIâm in love with you, Y/N. I love you.â
âWhatâŠ?â That is all you manage to reply to his confession. You really did never notice it, and so this comes as a shock to you. You realize that maybe him saying heâd do anything for you wasnât an exaggeration at all, but you didnât think heâd keep this fuckbuddy thing up if he had feelings for you all along. As if he had read your mind, he says,
âIâm sorry⊠I-... I didnât want to tell you like thisâŠâ he speaks, his head hanging low now. âNot when I know you have a thousand other things to worry about, but⊠I just couldnât⊠you said all these hurtful things. I donât think you know how much hearing all that just now hurts.â
âI-,â you begin, but you donât know what to say. You stare at him in utter disbelief for a moment, and then all of a sudden, from one second to the other, you feel like youâre going to suffocate if you donât get out of here as fast as possible. âI⊠I canât do this right now.â You get up off the bed and zip up your jeans. Your head is in chaos and your emotions are all jumbled up, but the one thing you can clearly feel is the anger burning in your veins. You truly are upset that he dropped such a bomb on you just before exams start and you need a clear head more than anything. âIâm going home⊠sorry,â you mutter under your breath, and without another look back at the guy who canât do anything but watch as youâre slipping out of his grasp once again, you walk out of the door.
âGood luck for your examsâ You let out a sigh as you finally delete the notification of the message Donghyuck sent you four days ago as youâre on your way to uni for your last exam. Itâs Friday noon and you canât wait for all of this to be over, the beginning of winter break feeling like youâre finally about to reach the safe shore after youâve been almost drowning for weeks.Â
You didnât talk to Donghyuck for the entirety of the week - of course, or you wouldâve long answered his message that he sent you on Monday. But you couldnât bring yourself to, you didnât even dare open the chatroom. Instead, you had focused on the necessities to get you through this week: sleep, eat, revise everything you studied, be on time for your exams, rinse and repeat. And now that itâs already the last day of this nightmare, you canât wait to simply crash into bed once you arrive home tonight.Â
Itâs true that youâve been feeling the relief after every single exam you finished, like some of the weight was taken off your shoulder with each time you walk out of a lecture hall. And yet you still feel the tiredness in your bones, but thereâs something else tugging at your limbs and trying to make you stop running from one task to the other. However, you donât let it. Too big is the fear of what you might find if you do stop and have a look, so you force all thoughts out of your mind that have nothing to do with your exams. And today as well your mind is empty when you take your seat and youâre handed the paper youâre supposed to fill out during the next one and a half hours, trusting your memory and your ability to recall the correct answers you have studied to each question.
As youâre leaving the lecture hall, finally done with the last one of your exams, somebody calls out to you. You turn your head to find one of your friends catching up with you, greeting you with a lively expression on her face.
âWeâre finally done,â she says. âNow we only need to wait for our final paper to be graded and then weâre free!â
âYeah,â you respond, trying to sound cheerful but inevitably failing. Youâre just tired at this point, and no matter how relieved you are that exams are over, you canât bring yourself to be happy.
âWhatâs with you?â your friend asks, concern in her voice. âDo you have to redo one of your exams?â
âNo, no, itâs nothing,â you assure her, but she doesnât buy it.Â
âThereâs something up with you. Did studying take that much out of you?â
âI guess,â you reply as you walk down the hallway with her, but then you hesitate. âActually⊠nevermind.â
âHm? Y/N, what is it? Youâre being really weird.â She steps in front of you, making you halt on the spot, but eventually she keeps walking. âItâs okay, I shouldnât pressure you to talk about it if you donât want to.â
â...itâs about a friend,â you admit finally.
âA friend?â she repeats. âDid something happen to them?â
âNo, just⊠we just havenât seen each other much lately, and⊠yeah.â You lower your head and she steps closer.
âThat must be a very good friend if you miss them so much,â she states, matter of factly, and thatâs when you feel a stab right to your heart, putting you in physical pain.
âRightâŠâ you mutter. Without you realizing, Donghyuckâs presence has painted your ordinary days in a color of hope, wrapping you in a feeling of safety whenever youâre with him and making you become way too comfortable around him. And now that itâs come this far, you donât know how youâre supposed to scratch off all that paint anymore. The thought alone makes you feel sick to the stomach - you shouldnât have been such an idiot. You knew where this would lead, and that you wouldnât have the time to fool around with him anymore once youâve graduated. A feeling of deep regret overcomes you.Â
You shouldnât have said yes when he suggested leaving your class reunion together.
When you get home that day, you finally let yourself feel the full consequences of the past weeks filled with stress and you crash into your bed immediately. You havenât planned to go to sleep this early, but at some point you simply find yourself drifting off, and the next time you open your eyes itâs Saturday morning.Â
Your body aches as you force yourself to get out of bed, and when you open the curtains and the sunlight blinds your eyes, you curse existence itself. You trod over to the bathroom, wash your face, and after finding yourself unable to look at your reflection in the mirror, you return to your little kitchen to get yourself a simple breakfast. Finishing it while scrolling through social media on your phone, you then get yourself back to your bed, plummeting down on it and grabbing one of the books stacked atop your bedside table that you never found the time to finish while uni has kept you occupied. You open it on the page you had left off weeks ago, and after fighting your way through roughly two and a half paragraphs, you give up and you put the book back to where itâs been resting untouched until now. Your mind just wonât let you focus on this now, so you pick your heavy body up off the comfortable sheets and decide to take a shower first of all.
Things continue like this for the next few days. Even though exams are finally over, you just canât find it in you to rest properly. Neither going out to have fun nor staying at home and having some quality alone time sound appealing to you, and soon enough you figure out why. No matter what you do or where you are, thereâs this constant pain in your chest dragging you down, because time and time again you find yourself impulsively wanting to tell Donghyuck about your day, or even just sending him a funny meme you found on instagram. But you canât. In a way this reminds you of five years ago, when you started spending less and less time together in high school and then eventually broke up with each other. You recall finding yourself in situations like this back when you started college as well, wanting to tell him about something fun or exciting that happened but feeling unable to, because itâs already been months since you had last talked. However, thereâs one significant difference between then and now.Â
Then, you merely found it a shame that you couldnât freely text him or talk to him anymore. But you had moved on, finding new friends to talk to about those same things. Now, itâs like someone had torn a chunk of yourself out of your chest, and youâre slowly bleeding out as your nervous system prevents you from doing anything at all, signaling you that there must be a more urgent matter to take care of first. And only once you come to understand that this matter has to do with nothing other than Donghyuck himself, thatâs when something finally connects in your mind. Your days have been painted with his colors, but maybe youâre not supposed to get rid of all that paint. Maybe youâre simply supposed to embrace it, because after all those years heâs become someone whoâs just right for you. And maybe heâs become someone you can even come to love.
No, heâs already someone you love, you just never realized it.
Without thinking, you open your chatroom with Donghyuck, his last message still unanswered, and you start typing.
âI need to see you.â
âNow.â
You stand on his doorstep, taking a deep breath. Donghyuck had texted you back eventually, offering to meet at his place, so thatâs where you are now, nervous to ring the doorbell. It was you who suddenly decided to come see him, so why are you so hesitant?
Another deep breath, exhaled shakily, and you reach out to press the bell button. Maybe 10 seconds later, the door opens, and when Donghyuck mutters a greeting with a distant expression in his eyes, itâs like a slap to your face.
âCome in, I guess,â he says as heâs already turning around, and you do as told. Taking your shoes off, you follow him a few steps inside, and shooting you a cold look, he asks, âWhat do you need to talk about?â
Youâve never seen him like this. Even when you broke up at the end of high school there wasnât such a dark expression on his face. At that moment you have no idea how to shake off the guilt anymore, and so all you can do is let the words burst out of you.
âIâm sorry⊠Iâm so sorry for doing this to you.â He watches you with a look over his shoulder and you let your head hang, hoping he isnât aware of the way tears are welling up in your eyes. âI canât imagine how much I mustâve hurt you.â You add those words through gritted teeth, afraid of a sob suddenly making its way past your lips if youâre not careful.
âThen why are you the one crying?â he asks, staying surprisingly calm.
âB-becauseâŠâ You gulp, and figuring that itâs too late anyway, you lift your chin to look at him and you use the sleeves of your shirt to wipe the tears from your eyes. âBecause Iâm an idiot. And I donât want to see the person I love suffer.â
âY/NâŠâ he breathes your name before turning around fully to face you. He steps closer, but still keeps a good distance between you two. âYou rejected me only a few days agoâŠâ
âI know.â Your words are merely a whisper now. âBecause I was scared⊠the future seems so overwhelming that I kept thinking I donât have space for something like this. But⊠that doesnât mean⊠that I didnât still fall in love with you.â Silence follows, the only sound disrupting it being the soft sigh Donghyuck lets out before he finally closes the distance between you.
âCan I⊠hold you?â You nod at his question and you let him come closer, until you find yourself safely wrapped into his embrace, his warm breath tickling your neck as he buries his face there.Â
âIâm so sorry for how I acted⊠you must really hate me nowâŠâ you mutter, and youâre almost startled when your friend lets out a laugh as heâs holding you.
âYes, because I always go around hugging my enemies like this,â he says with a tired yet cheeky grin on his lips, and seeing that expression on his face suddenly washes all your worries away.
âRightâŠâ
âItâs okay, Y/N⊠I know you had a rough time. I shouldnât have confessed to you so suddenly either,â he apologizes, but you immediately shake your head, vigorously.
âNo, donât say sorry! I⊠I kind of get it⊠that it had to get out,â you say. âEspecially after I said all those hurtful things to you.â He brings one hand up to your cheek, brushing his knuckles against the skin there and as his eyes scan your facial features you can unmistakably see how much he adores you. It makes your heart soar, and you part your lips as your gaze falls to his mouth.
âY/N,â he calls out to you. âDoes that mean⊠I can ask you to be my girlfriend now?â
âSureâŠâ you mumble, the urge to feel his lips on yours clouding your mind. âAnd when Iâm your girlfriend⊠can you kiss me then?â
âOf course,â he chuckles, and he takes a tiny step away from you so he could take your hands into his, intertwining your fingers. âY/N, would you be my girlfriend?â You canât suppress the smile that creeps onto your face as you listen to his question, and you nod.
âYes, please,â you answer. âLet me be your girlfriend.â And then he kisses you, slowly and carefully, and this time you arenât confused on what those feelings heâs pouring into this kiss are. This time you know that itâs all the love he has for you, and you let it wrap you into a veil of warmth and comfort, feeling safe with him.
âI love you,â you mutter in between kisses, and eventually your hands find their way up into his hair. You kiss him back as you comb through it, and when you hear him whisper those same words back at you in between kisses, you once again canât control the smile on your lips. You part to look at each other, finding an unmistakable desire for more behind his gaze, and so you begin moving as you connect your lips to his again.
"I'm sorry..." you mutter in between kisses, as you're steering him towards the bedroom, and he lets out a sigh against your lips in response. "I want to make it up to you."
"You don't have to," Donghyuck mutters with his hands on your waist, and you reach the bed, positioning yourselves so you could have him sit with one swift push against his chest. Crawling on top of him as he merely looks up at you, eyes half-lidded and lips slightly parted while he awaits your next kiss, he's already completely drunk on you.
"Then see it as me taking care of you?" you whisper, reconnecting your lips to his. Your arms wrapped tightly around his shoulders and him having his hands securely placed on your sides for stability, you merely keep kissing like that. Unhurriedly, because now you both know there's nothing rushing you anymore, nothing that would tear you apart.
"I love you." He mutters those words as you part, and when you open your eyes you can see him already nervously peeking up at you. You can't help but smile endearingly, cupping his cheek with one hand before you lean in for another sweet kiss to his reddened lips.
"I love you too, Hyuck," you say just when you pull back, and you let your fingertips wander down his upper body. Watching his face closely for his reactions, you pull his shirt off him, tossing it to the floor, and then you add, "Lie down for me, baby. I'll make you feel good." It comes as a surprise even to you to see him obey so quickly, and you let your palm glide down the bare skin on his chest and abdomen as he lies back. And then, when you reach for his wrists to pin them against the bed right next to his head, you can see a slight but still apparent blush creeping onto his cheeks, and he lets out a sound that's somewhere between a groan and a quiet whine.
"Fuck, you make me go crazy," you mutter as you press another kiss to his puffy lips, and when you sink your teeth into his bottom lip he moans into your mouth, the act alone sending heatwaves through your body. You instinctively roll your hips on top of his, earning yourself another small mewl from him, and then you trail kisses from the corner of his mouth to his throat. He leans his head back to give you better access, brows furrowed as he sighs in contentment. Forming his hands into fists, he digs his nails into his palms and whines some more as you continue grinding down on him, and the way you feel him grow underneath you turns you on as well. And then eventually you let go of his wrists to work your way down, peppering kisses all over his chest as he immediately throws his arms around your body, holding onto you tightly.Â
"Hyuck..." you call out his name as you sit up briefly, and then you continue trailing nips and kisses down his body. "Let me hear you." He curses as your hand ghosts above his core, watching you with an expectant gaze in his eyes. You pull down the sweatpants he's wearing, and then his underwear, both just enough so his hard length is exposed. You wrap your fingers around him, and you kneel above him now, one of his thighs positioned between your legs, so you could get a good look at his face as you start to slowly jerk him off.Â
"Look at me," you demand, and he does, the blush returning to his cheeks.
"Faster..." he mutters, barely audible, and you teasingly ask him to repeat himself. "Faster, please..." he begs through gritted teeth, and when you tighten your grip on his shaft just a little bit, he responds with a moan. "Can't take it..."
"Are you gonna let me hear more of those pretty moans?" you question, lips quivering in anticipation.
"Y-yes..." You don't know if your mind is tricking you or if his blush is growing just a bit darker as he answers, but either way you begin to move your hand faster, having him whining underneath you as he throws his head back. You watch with your lips slightly parted, and it's not like you've never seen him like this before, but there's just something about the way he gives himself up to pleasure when you have him in this kind of position that always gets you going. You move your hips in tune with the speed at which you get him off, grinding your clothed core down on his thigh, and he pushes his leg up just a bit to give you more friction.
"Shit..." you hiss, pleasure clouding your mind, and Donghyuck reaches down to wrap his fingers around your hand, guiding you into a faster pace. You collect the precum leaking his tip and use it as lube to glide down his length more smoothly, and as you can see on his face that he's about to lose himself to the sensation, you mutter a warning, "Don't cum yet."
"But-" he whines, and you take your hand away just before he can reach his high. "Y/N..." he desperately whines your name and you lean in to press a soothing kiss somewhere onto his chest, and then another one against his cheek.
"I wanna have you cumming inside me," you whisper, and when you sit back up you quickly rid yourself of all your clothes, in the end helping him out of his pants as well. You crawl on top of him, your hands placed on his shoulders for support, and you let out a curse as you roll your hips against him, his tip rubbing against your folds. And once again he whines, pressing his eyes tightly shut and digging his nails into your hips.Â
"Just fuck me already..." he breathes, but you have other plans.
"Be good and I will, baby," you coo as you repeat your motion without letting him slip inside you. He begins to squirm underneath you, visibly fighting to suppress his orgasm, and you swear you could cum from the sight alone. "Fuck... you're so fucking hot like that, Hyuck..." you mutter through gritted teeth, his repeated whines sounding like music to your ears.
"C-can't... hold back..." And once again you stop the stimulation just as he's about to cum, and with a frustrated groan he throws his head back into the mattress, dragging his nails down your skin. You reach for his hands, and as you intertwine your fingers you pin them above his head, and you can't but coo over the desperate look he gives you, and the way his cheeks are reddening again.
"You gonna cum right when I take you in, aren't you?" you ask, smirking at him after pressing a kiss to his forehead. "So desperate for my pussy..." And he can't do anything but whine at your words, because you both know you're right, and him denying it would just make him look stupid. "Then cum for me, baby," you mutter against his lips as you seal them with yours, running your tongue along his mouth to deepen the kiss. You sink down on him, taking in his size with ease, and the second you start rolling your hips he releases inside you as he moans into your mouth. Heat rushes through your veins when you part and you sit up, letting go of his wrists and combing the fingers of one hand through his disheveled hair instead.Â
"Didn't think you really would cum the instant you're inside me," you mock him, earning yourself another whine from him. "And I bet you're also gonna be hard again in no time if I keep this up," you mumble, rolling your hips on top of him slowly. "Such a sucker for when I'm in control, huh?"
"Yeah..." he breathes out, and you unexpectedly feel your heart swell at his answer. Usually he'd be fighting back by now, trying to battle you for dominance or at least being bratty, but today you really just have him at your mercy unconditionally.
"Is it because I finally said that I love you?" you conclude, as if he had heard your thought process.
"Huh?" You run your fingers through his hair again, and then you lean in for another deep kiss.
"Do you like it that much when I play with you like this, or are you being good because you're scared I'll leave if you're not perfect for me?" Donghyuck stares at you for a while as you sit back up, the blush on his cheeks fading, and when he finally reaches out to you to press your body against his for a tight embrace, he answers,
"No, I trust you. And I kinda like it when you sometimes use me." A storm of emotions washing over you, you bring some distance between you and him slowly, and after mustering his genuine expression for a while, you reach for his hands once again.
"Don't touch me," you order as you put them back into their place above his head. "And don't cum until I tell you to. If you wanna be my little toy you gotta be good, alright?"
"Alright." He gulps, taking you in as you're sitting on top of him, starting to ride him with one hand sliding down your body, fingertips reaching your core to give yourself some extra stimulation. Eyes dripping with honey, he keeps his hands in place, and the more you can feel him growing inside you, the more you can also see him struggling to keep his composure.
"Fuck, you're so sexy," he mutters eventually, and you hum a praise to signal him to keep going. "Feels so good... wanna be good for you..."
"That's right..." you mutter, your eyelids fluttering shut as you bounce on top of him, rubbing circles onto your clit. You position yourself so that everytime you sink down on him his tip would graze that perfect spot inside you, and along with listening to his words and the way his voice starts shaking from the pleasure has you seeing stars soon enough.
"U-use me, please... wanna feel you cum on my cock..." he sputters, and you moan at his pleas.
"Doing so well for me, baby... shit, nobody could ever make me feel as good as you..." He whines desperately as you keep your pace slow, in hopes of bringing him as close as possible to the edge as you're racing towards your own high. "Hyuck..." you mutter his name, your voice trembling. "Cum with me." Another moan falling from his lips and you feel yourself shaken by your orgasm, clenching around him as he spills inside you a second time.Â
"Shit..." With a curse you collapse on top of him, finding him wrapping his arms around you in a comforting motion, and you add, "You were amazing." He nuzzles his face into the side of your head, lips brushing against your temple, and once you've caught your breath a bit you give him a proper kiss. "I'm sorry... for trying to push you away like th-" Donghyuck puts his index finger across your lips, shutting you up in the process, and with a soft smile he shakes his head.
"Stop apologizing," he says. "It's okay now. Let's focus on the future, and how we can build it together." His hand cupping your face and his thumb brushing against your cheek make your heart skip a beat, and you simply nod.
"You're right," you respond, and you lie back down on top of him, nestling into his chest. "If we just have each other, we can make it through anything."
#nct smut#haechan smut#nct dream smut#nct 127 smut#nct oneshot#nct drabbles#nct scenarios#nct imagines#nct dream drabbles#nct dream scenarios#nct dream imagines#haechan x reader#nct x reader#nct dream x reader#nct 127 x reader#nct 127 scenarios#nct fic#haechan fic#nct oneshots#haechan oneshot#nct fluff#haechan fluff#nct 127 fluff#nct dream fluff#smut#oneshot
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Little "Love" Notes
Angel should really tell someone if they think somebodyâs breaking in but instead they do⊠this? For some reason.
very good idea
14 Days With You is an 18+ Yandere Visual Novel. MINORS DNI
đđ€đđ€đđ€
Quiet and quick as could be, [REDACTED] slowly opened your window by the fire escape. He climbed in carefully, a little astonished that you still werenât bothering to lock it after all these months. Their boots hardly made a sound as he took practiced steps over the hardwood floor of your apartment and headed straight to the kitchen. He didnât need to see to know which floorboards would creak or groan underfoot.
Just as they expected, the usual sight that had him even more excited to go on his now almost nightly break-ins was there to greet him. A handful of hastily scrawled, bright pink sticky notes were slapped across various surfaces.
At some point or another you'd gotten sick of things going missing. Sure, most of them turned up after a whileâand always right where you thought you'd left themâbut even still it annoyed you. So you started leaving silly messages for your supposed burglar. He chose to read them as love notes.
âDon't take anything in here you BITCH I'll be so mad!!â screamed one from its place on a kitchen cabinet. Your writing there was a little illegible from how fast you surely wrote it, but he found it endearing.
Another, on the side of some faded plastic-ware read, âI made these cookies for a friend but a lot of them came out wrong. You may have the burnt ones.â
âGive that ugly red shirt back it doesn't belong to me.â That was the last one he could find in the room for now, left on top of the counter next to the notepad and pen you always used.
As much as he wished to, the hacker usually didnât respond for fear of confirming your needless worries. They'd never want to harm you like a real burglar. But he always followed the instructions when he could. And he could do some of those tonight.
Since you'd so nicely asked, he left the bottom cabinet alone. They already knew what you kept in there anyway. He wouldnât tell a soul.
He took a few burnt cookies out of the container left on the counterânot enough that you'd notice. Some to eat once he left, and one to keep. It was another thing you offered up to him, after all.Â
But the sorry excuse of a shirt that your (worst) childhood friend had left behind was long gone. [REDACTED] had already given it a much needed vacation to the bottom of Lake Bluemoss, along with some other items that Leon had dared to leave among your belongings.
With the notes in the kitchen mostly taken care of, he set off towards your laundry closet. Only to find the small sliding door in the hallway closed shut with a note of its own smack dab in the middle.Â
âPlease don't take my comfy clothes anymore :c I know you always give them back but it'll be getting cold soon!! You donât want me freezing in the middle of the night, do you? Won't you forgive me? Pretty please? â„ â„â
Mind going a mile a minute, [REDACTED] had to read your beautiful handwriting again and again as if decoding a different language. Those tiny, black inked hearts at the end of the note were all he could understand in the moment. Your sweetly written, pleading love letter finally sunk in once he managed to shake away the haze youâd unknowingly swept him into.
This one was a risk that he was willing to take. Of course they wanted you to be comfortable. He gently peeled the note off so it wouldnât tear, and folded it away to tuck into his jeans.
Then, the dark haired man began to tug his favorite hoodie up and over his shoulders.
đđ€đđ€đđ€
You lazily pulled the folding door open in search of a blanket. It was just a little bit colder for some reason when you woke up this morning, so you needed something to keep you cozy while you waited for Violet to come over later that afternoon. You reached up to the middle shelf where you normally kept extra blankets, but something just below it caught your eye.
A huge, black hoodie sat folded on top of the pile of clean towels you forgot to take care of days ago.
You didn't recognize it, but it had to belong to one of your friends, right? They all formed a habit of leaving stuff with you once you moved back to town. Jae still hadnât picked up the roller skates he got for Mapleâthey were only used the one time.
Ignoring the blanket you meant to grab, you picked up the hoodie and slipped it on. The giant thing practically swallowed you, sleeves enveloping your hands and the hem falling well past your hips. The garish horror design that decorated its front didn't seem to be anything your friends were into, either.
But it was warmer than you thought possible. Plus, it smelled nice, like cherries and a little familiar comfort of something you couldn't place. Whoever it belonged to surely wouldn't mind if you kept it for a while.
You didn't bother to spare it another thought and hurried off to check the kitchen. Hopefully the cookies you'd painstakingly baked yesterday were still there.
#14 days with you#14dwy#14dwy redacted#14dwy ren#momo writing#yesterday was april fool's...#but redacted is a year round fool /silly#they are my fool i love them#also weird little freak angel love them too#anyways i said this for a haha funny joke but i thought about it a LOT#that is how all my redacted ideas start... why am i like this
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âă
€YU JIMIN â CATCH ME, I'M YOUR DISEASE
( read more ) synopsis â you might not know much, but one thing's clear: yu jimin is the one you want, the pretty girl who's been risking her life on a motorcycle for years. but, surprisingly, getting her to teach you how to ride is a two-way deal. warnings â female reader x motorcycle racer yu jimin headcanons, a little bit suggestive at times, fluff. text in bold is jimin's. inspired by this + this racer i love.
yu jimin has been motorcycle racing for years
and you've been watching her for a while
you look up to her so much that you get a motorcycle too
and you know she loves money
so you pay her to teach you how to ride and give you tips
she doesn't want more competition, but she's down for it
and deep down ( not at all ) she thinks you're cute
so she's there every saturday, making herself free for you
and in the first month, she notices you're a bit⊠clueless
in a way she finds endearing
you're not very experienced with motorcycles
so you're not being wise at all by wanting to race
but jimin is very patient with you
"you can't let your calves touch this or it'll burn you, okay?
they're called exhaust pipes. and they're evil"
"okay" you say. and you go and get burnt and cry
and jimin takes care of you so well whenever it's needed
because you burn yourself on that so many times
but she won't scold you for your mistakes
"no need to be scared, alright? just be more careful next time
because the faster you go, the harder it burns"
while she's explaining things to you, you tend to look down
and your hair sometimes falls around your face
and so she places it behind your ear
"look at me when i'm talking to you"
"sorry, it's just- it's easier to process things if i don't"
"hm? why?" she frowns
"you distract my brain cells a bit. they really like your face"
jimin loses count of how many times you make her chuckle
when she takes you for a ride, you keep yourself glued to her
"don't squeeze me like that, silly, i won't let you fall"
and when you squeeze her anyway, she holds your hand
the tightest one around her waist, and just keeps it in hers
"i'm telling you, you won't fall off the bike,
you just need to get used to the speed.
believe me, i don't wanna get you killed"
her voice through the helmet has you feeling things
her fastening yours for you does too
her holding onto your waist when you ride is just⊠too much
and she won't even take your money by the end of the month
nor will she let you race without making sure you're ready
and jimin will never let you skip your meals
"i usually just skip lunch, it's alright"
"but i bought you kimchi. i gotta keep you healthy"
and she'll have you squinting and blushing
"it's raining" she says on the phone one day. "we can't practice"
"ah, it's okay"
"you can come over, though. if you want. i can give you tips"
you're so in, and you take soju bottles with you
⊠on your motorcycle
and then she scolds you
because you're supposed to avoid riding in the rain
and you're sorry, and her worry makes your mood go down
so she starts speaking softly with you
then, when you get drunk, she thinks you're even cuter
when you play with the hem of her shirt, she melts
when you kiss her cheek, she feels stupid ( butterflies )
and time goes by so fast
jimin tucks you in her bed and attempts to sleep on the couch
it's late. so late. but drunk you would never let her sleep there
"i have no teddy bear. be mine. be my jimin bear"
she's overall so respectful and avoids being touchy with you
but she settles this time, being a bit tipsy as well
and she loves it. hugging you to sleep. you on her bed
it makes her feel so peaceful
and it's strange, the next day. because you're gone so early
when it's nighttime again, she feels empty
she calls you after pondering for a while
"can we practice tomorrow?" jimin asks
"we have nothing scheduled but⊠it'd be really fun"
"sure" you agree sweetly, calmly, but you feel beyond happy
that's what you wanted â to be close to her like that
she laughs so easily around you, despite her usually cold look
and when she fastens your helmet now, something's different
you sit on her bike, and she places herself between your legs
and lets her hands rest on them once she's done
and does this every other tutoring day
jimin starts dropping you off and picking you up from work
just to take you to her place after your shift's over
so you can drink and unwind together
and you're always together now
she keeps herself as close as she can for the helmet part
it's cute, the way you look at her every time
and thank her and fasten hers for her too
it's so cute she eventually gets lost in that. your look
"you're staring hard, ma'am" you point out
"start looking ugly then"
and you just chuckle. "you think i look good?"
"that's an understatement. but sure" jimin finally lets out
your breath catches in your throat and you're nervous
absolutely nervous all of a sudden, her eyes locked on yours
"can i kiss you?" her voice is low⊠your stomach drops lower
but you don't even reply, taking your helmet off
and you finally do as you please. and she pleases
and you pull her by her jacket
and kiss her with all the feelings you've been holding in
⊠which are many. strong ones. and fuck is all she can go
to leave a woman like jimin breathless you must be either god
or you. and both options give her heaven
you taste as sweet as you are
and kissing her feels as good as biting into a ripe cherry
tasty, the best kiss you've ever tried
and you're so lucky, you know you are
to be under the touch of such a godly woman
sitting on her motorcycle, biting her lip
and being worth everything to her
#your ira talks đŻ#RACER GIRL KARINA YES !!#yu jimin x reader#yu jimin fluff#karina aespa#karina fluff#karina#aespa#aespa fluff#karina x reader#aespa karina#aespa x reader#yu jimin
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hii!!! How are you?? Could you please write smth with angest to fluff for Pau Cubarsi?đđđ„° Thank you!!
Center of gravity â Pau CubarsĂ.
Pairing: Pau CubarsĂ x Fem!Reader
Summary: You and Pau had broken up a year ago, but somehow every time heâs stressed, he finds that you are the only thing that can ground him.
Word count: 1.0K
Disclaimer/s: Stressed(ish)!Pau so angst to comfort/fluff
A/N: Hiii!! Iâm quite exhausted myself but good nonetheless! thank you for asking <3 Iâm making my way through my requests and was listening to this song and was like omgg.
Rain splattered across your bedroom window, casting a gloomy feel across your bedroom. It had been raining on and off all day, which you usually did not mind, but for some reason you did today. You were grumpy all morning, and that only worsened as the day drew to an end.
You had finally gotten home from class, showered, ate dinner, and gotten comfortable in bed when your phone pinged. Picking it up, you exhaled slowly. The name âPauâ lit up your phones screen. Heâd had just as bad of a day, or seemingly worse (you assumed), considering he was texting you late at night. Like always.
Quickly typing back, you give him the go-ahead to come to your house. Your parents were out of the country for their anniversary, but even if they were home, they wouldnât have cared.
Pau and you had broken up nearly a whole year ago, but even then, you stayed in contact. He visits, has meals with your parents while he waits for you to get home, ect. Your house was just as much Pauâs as it was yours since youâd grown up together.
Even then, the breakup still hurt. He was busy, never had time for you, the list goes on. Though, you two still valued each other as friends, and hopefully one day, you could progress past that again.
Lost deep within your thoughts, you donât hear the door open and close or the heavy footsteps coming up the stairs. You only realize he was there when your door cracks open and he says through a tired voice, âyou decent?â
Jumping slightly, you let out a hmph. You sit up straight on your bed, scooting to make space for him. âYep!â
Pau walks into your bedroom, shrugging off his wet hoodie before joining you on the bed. He doesnât say a word until heâs laid down beside you, his arms looping around your waist as he lays his head on your stomach. âHey.â He sighs out and you can already tell heâs burnt out, although from what.. you couldnât be sure.
âHey.â You hum, fingers finding their way to his hair, brushing a few strands away from his eyes. âYour hair is getting long again.â
You feel a slight upturn of Pauâs lips against your stomach, making a smile grow on your own face. âI kind of prefer it longer, but if you say I need a cut..â
âI did not say I didnât like it.â You chuckle, twirling of piece of his hair around your finger. âSo..â You werenât sure how to approach the topic, so you trail off, wanting him to start it rather than have you grasp at straws.
Pau lifts his head up to look at you, his eyes fluttering slowly and you watch the way his long, thick eyelashes briefly kiss cheeks. âI donât want to talk about it, tell me about your day.â He almost whispers, his eyes too busy flickering around your face with a hint of uncertainty flashing across them.
âMy day was shit, but itâs better now.â You smile, tilting your head onto your shoulder as you meet his gaze. âWhatâd you do today?â
âPractice, practice, more practice, went home to do homework, did said homework, thenâŠâ He licks his lips, âyeah, thatâs pretty much it.â
You knew he didnât want to talk about what was troubling him, but you wanted to know. There was something different in the way he was holding you today, there was something hidden beneath his tired eyes when he looked at you, something you couldnât recognize but it made you feel warm inside.
âSounds tiring.â You finally reply, shifting around so Pau wasnât resting against you at an awkward angle anymore.
âIt was.â He murmurs, his hand trailing under your shirt to rest on your hip. He proceeded to draw miscellaneous shapes on it, his eyes solely focused on his doodling.
You couldnât help the smile that broke out on your face, despite how hard to tried to stop it. Memories of nights where you and Pau would skip out on fancy dates just to cuddle together, all the nights he found his solace in your warm embrace. In a way, it made you feel sick. Like this was how it was meant to be, but something was stopping you from achieving it again.
Pauâs doodles stop, causing your eyes to flicker to him in protest. You find he was already looking at you, his eyes soft and bright despite the fact that your room was only lit by a dull lamp on your bedside. âWhat?â You ask, reaching up to move another stray strand of his hair.
âI missed you extra today.â He shrugs, âIâm just thankful you let me come over, thatâs all.â
Your heart was pounding against your ribcage, and you didnât bother to hide your smile this time. âI miss you extra all the time.â
A small laugh escapes Pauâs lips, his head dipping down to hide his face in the crook between your waist and arm, where he placed a small kiss on the exposed flesh of your inner forearm. âWeâre so extra in general.â
By now, youâre laughing too. The situation was all too ironic. Exâs who see each other when they need someone to lean on, exâs who occasionally eat dinner with each otherâs families, exâs who cuddle, exâs who say things couples say. Exâs, who are still so obviously in love.
Pauâs head lifts to catch a glimpse of your laughing face, one heâd always adored, and he realizes if he just leaned in a little closerâŠ
âThatâs a bad idea.â You point at him, recognizing the look of longing. Your finger was mere centimeters from his face and the only thing separating the distance. But youâre not saying no, you would never say no. At least not to him.
Pau pushes your hand away from his face, âprobably.â He whispers. Despite both of your words, both of you lean into each other, lips colliding in a long awaited reunion.
Likes , comments , and reblogâs are all appreciated. Lmk if youâd like to be tagged in any of my future posts.
DTS , @halfwayhearted @spidybaby !
#pau cubarsi#pau cubarsi x you#pau cubarsi x reader#pau cubarsi x y/n#pau cubarsi angst to comfort#football#fanfic#fluff#angst#fc barcelona#fc barcelona fic
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HER | part four.
â§â synopsis: wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo canât see this going well. at all.
pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader word count: 22.5k genres/tropes:Â writer!wonwoo, university!au, plug!vernon + boyfriend!mingyu as prominent side characters, SLOWBURN (i am not fucking around this is my slowest burn yet), relationship drama, soul searching, strong angst/hurt (iâm coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.
(!) warnings: drug use (weed, cocaine, ecstasy), wonwoo has anxiety + anxiety attacks + fairly dark thoughts, prescribed medication, gambling, intense language, infidelity, throwing up.
â§â a/n: just some quick things i want to make apparent!
the fic is told from wonwooâs pov, not the readerâs!Â
all major timeline events are organized through chronological dates
any smut or potentially triggering scenes are NOT MARKED bc the content is already quite mature, so just plz be aware of that!Â
bolded and italicized text implies the characters are conversing in korean, tho it doesnât happen often!
the fic in its entirety is 140k, so it has been split into 6 parts.
here we goo. part four :o i can't believe it's already the fourth part!! i guess the last chapter ended on somewhat of a cliffhanger so may this quench your curiosity! but, beyond that...
this part has a punch of its own... dotdotdot...
âąÂ part one | part two | part three | part five | part six âą soundtrack for those curious! âąÂ read at ur own pace! :)
Wonwoo was lucky to discover an empty, spare guest bedroom down an off-shooting hallway for you two to refuge in while the volcano settled upstairs. Furthermore, he was grateful that you had relaxed enough to be released from his straightjacket arms, and even more grateful the room was quiet. The confrontation had shot his nerves. His hands were still trembling. As you took a seat on the bed, Wonwoo moved toward the window and stared into his darkly silhouetted reflection, taking paced breaths until everything stopped pressing down on him. Heâd already had his fair share of stalling fights between Vernon and other drunks at the downtown bars.
He had never anticipated stopping you from a fight.Â
âFuck, I feel like absolute shitâŠâ you groaned, and when Wonwoo turned around, he saw you crunched up, fingers digging at your hair while you sat at the very edge of the primly dressed bed.
âShould I get you anything?â He asked in a soft voice, coming over to crouch down in front of you. âDo you want some water?â
You wouldnât look at him, instead staring into your knees that were bent and flush against your chest. For a moment, there was nothing said, until you sniffed that very distinctive sniffle of someone whoâd just snorted a line. Rubbing at your nose, you nodded.
âPlease?â
âYeah, âcourse. Iâll be right back, okay?â
Wonwoo didnât know where to get water, though he did remember the bottle dropped at the bottom of the staircase. He practically ran to grab it. Coming back into the spare room, Wonwoo clicked the door shut as quietly as possible and joined you at the bed.
âHere,â he offered, uncapping it for you.
You sipped from it eagerly, gulp after gulp, then wiping off your lips when it became too cumbersome to swallow.
He took the bottle back, capping it again and throwing it somewhere random on the bed. Wonwoo could see with concern that you werenât entirely thereâjaded, from the drinking and smoking and intaking a dangerous substance you probably shouldnât have. Your face appeared so hazy, disconnected, as though you were staring off into a warm light buried in the distance that only presented itself to you.
âThat was a lot, wasnât it?â Wonwoo sighed into the dark room, rolling up his sleeves, unsure of what he should do or even say.
You sniffled again, and shook your head. âI feel sick.â
âI know, Iâm sorry... what do you want to do?â
Breathing out heavily at the small amount of labour it required to look backward at the bed, you nodded. âI want to lie down.â
âOkay,â Wonwoo said, feeling relieved, âthatâs a good idea.â
You smiled at him, though it was misted over and a bit loopy.Â
He watched you lean down, fiddling with the tiny buckle belonging to the right heel strapped over your foot. Afraid you might hit the floor like a flour sac if you stayed hunched over for too long, he instantly squatted down to help you, gently nudging your hand away.
âIâll take them off for you,â Wonwoo reassured, loosening the buckle enough to slide the expensive, black heel from your foot, doing so with the utmost delicacy, akin to sorting fine china.
Just before he removed the other heel, Wonwoo caught you staring down at him with a particular admiration behind those glassed eyes that made his entire chest become swollen. He tried to ignore the feeling, no matter how elated it made him on the inside.
âThank you.â
âUh, no problem,â Wonwoo answered, standing up and gesturing to the bed, âdo you think youâll take a nap?â
â⊠I donât know.â
âThatâs okay⊠should I get Princess to come stay with you? Or, I can always get Mingyu, too. Whatever you think is best.â
You were still looking back at the guest bed, unresponsive, and Wonwoo had wondered if you even heard him speak. The moonlight that cascaded in from the windows patched an intricate shadow overtop the quilt, and you started spreading your hand across it, as though you could pick up the silhouette and move it.
And then you glanced at Wonwoo again, smiled slightly. âWould you lay down with me⊠if I asked you?â
He immediately cleared his throat, âuh, lay down with you?â
âMmhm,â you nodded, âI need your company. Please?â
He clenched his fist tight, an index nail carving along the cuticle of his scarred thumb. Logically, Wonwoo should leaveâhe should march back upstairs and go search for Mingyu or Princess to help nurse you through your brain fog. Realistically, however, Wonwoo wasn't going to do any such thing. Realistically, Wonwoo was very high, and very delirious, and completely at your beckon.
Kicking off his sneakers, Wonwoo crawled onto the guest bed alongside you. He breathed out a sigh of comfort as his back was perfectly cushioned by the supple pillows organized against the headboard. If he thought about it for too longârelaxing on a strangerâs bed in a strangerâs home at two or three in morning beside a girl whoâd just snorted coke upstairs in the attic and nearly leapt on her friend in a fightâhis head would start to ache. So, Wonwoo didnât think about it. He let everything happen as it naturally desired to.
You tucked yourself close against Wonwoo, closer than what was appropriate for two people who were presumably friends, stretching your leg across his waist and latching it over his hip, an arm around his wide chest, your head settled cozily underneath his chin.
He couldn't care less about the morality.
Especially when he wriggled his arm beneath you, his knuckles coming to stroke up and down your bare, soft back, feeling along the subtle groove of your spine with every lulling, especially tender caress. Truly, Wonwoo didnât know why he cared so remarkably little about how wrong it was to touch you and hold you. Maybe it was your shallow and warm breathing that kept tickling his neck, or the weight of your leg against his pelvisâyou as a whole seemed to smudge his rationalityâhis own personal drug.
âCan you please tell me a story?â
âHm?â Wonwoo murmured, stilling his fingertips at the top of your shoulder blade. âTell you a story? Whyâs that?â
âBecause, my head hurts. And I want a distraction.â You then poked your face up from his neck, staring at Wonwoo through the clouds in your eyes, sounding sleepy enough to lose consciousness. âAnd I love the sound of your voice, and how it makes me feel.â
He proceeded to rub something off your chin with a few brushes from his thumb, and nodded, tucking your head back down.
âOkay⊠let me think for a second...â
âWaitââ you suddenly mumbled, awkwardly reaching behind you for his hand rested against your shoulders, ââI liked when you were going up and down. It felt good. Please, can you do some more?â
âYeah, sorry. I just stopped to think,â Wonwoo hummed with an amused smile, continuing to stroke his knuckles and hearing the heavy sigh you breathed aloud. Â
He thought a few moments longer for a story that he could tell you; something interesting, but not too detailed.
âIâve got one.â
He made a rumbling noise in his throat to clear it, staring off at the dresser mirror opposite to the bed, where Wonwoo could just decipher that vague, silvery thread outlining your entangled bodies.
âWhen I was around eleven, twelve years old, my family used to go to this waterpark every summer, like an hour car ride from our house. My brother and I made up this game. We called it lifeguard, or, like, swimming attendant. Basically, you play dead in the water, and whoeverâs the attendant has to save you. Anyway, it was a pretty stupid fucking game to play at a water park as you can imagine. But when we got there, the lifeguard wasnât in his chair. So, like, my brother, trying to be cool or funny, thought it would be a good idea to sit in the chair himself. I had to pretend to drown.
The problem with that, thoughâthe actual life guard was coming back. He sees me pretending to drown, thinks Iâm actually drowningâI donât know, I guess I was selling it super wellâand he dives right into the water, pulls me out and everything, lies me across the cement all surgical like. Iâm so fucking embarrassed, my brotherâs ran off somewhereâI just go along with it while everyoneâs watching, knowing damn fucking well Iâm a sham. My momâs panicking. She didn't realize it was part of some idiotic game we made up. I hated my brother for a week straight. Iâve refused to swim ever since.â
There was a chuckle against his neck, and Wonwoo felt your body vibrate with a soft fit of laughter. He hadnât recalled that story in years, though it dusted off the latent anger toward his older brother that he had never quit holding. Nonetheless, it was still rewarding to tell you. That water park was once his most cherished place to visit, admittedly during a much different period in his life, when the only thing he worried over was whether or not theyâd have his favourite ice cream flavour or if he might miss that gigantic bucket full of freezing water that dropped every half-hour.
âIâm sorry that happenedâŠâ you mumbled against his neck, your breath akin to a sweeping feather, âbut itâs a bit funny.â
âNo, I know,â Wonwoo agreed, grazing his hand low to the base of your back, âI can laugh at it now... even if Iâm still mad.â
âCan I ask you something, please?â
âSure.â
âI just want to know⊠when did you move here? Did you come here for university? Or, was it before that? And, like⊠did your family come with you? Did you move alone? Iâm just curiousâŠâ
âSo, I spent two years at a university in Korea, for something different than what Iâm doing now. It was accounting stuffââ
âOh, more boring.â
âYeah,â Wonwoo laughed, reaching his hand underneath the warm plump of your thigh to adjust it more comfortably against his hip, âI actually agree with you. It was boring, and I was⊠to put it lightly, miserable. Very, very miserable. So, I dropped it, had a really long and excruciating conversation with my brother about the whole thingâwhat I wanted to do, where I wanted to go. I have an uncle that lives out here. Not close to our school. Heâs hours away. But I figured, Iâm old enough. I need, justâI need a fucking change. Iâll move out, stay with him, find my footing. And, uh, I ended up here.â
You smiled against his skin, lips practically pressed at his neck, and then you exhaled, pulling a shiver along the length of his spine.
âHm⊠Iâm glad you made that choice.â
Wonwooâs fingers fleshed deeper against the underside of your thigh as he sighed into the still bedroom air, thinking back to the pressure, the bickering between himself and his parents, the desire to at last pull the pin and take a risk, even if said risk was going to crash and humiliatingly burn at his feet. In a way, it had. But with you, his reward was building back up again. It wasnât all fruitless.
âMe too.â
"Thanks for sharing that with me,â you murmured, snuggling impossibly closer into his body and breathing him in like the sweet, baked scent of pastries fresh from a hot oven, or the airy honeysuckle outside on a summerâs day. âI like knowing about you.â
For once, Wonwoo wasnât scared that you knew.
Maybe he should be scared. He wasnât being cautious enough, instead pouring more soul into his heart than his logic. But thenâwhy did it feel so good in that moment? Something he was terrified of had flipped on its head and turned into a real, tangible happiness. He continued to lay with you in the silence. The ceiling was full of shadows that he studied to keep himself awake while his thumb rubbed easy circles into your thigh. Your body was giving him heat.
If no one ever opened that door, Wonwoo wouldnât complain.
He could lay there until the earth caved in.
âWonwoo?â
âMm?â
âI want to try getting up now.â
Rubbing the heel of his palm against his eye, he massaged away the desire for sleep that had finally managed to catch up to him.
âYeah?â
âYes.â
âOkayââ he began slowly pushing himself upward, helping you in the process with an arm at your waist, ââIâll grab your shoes.â
âThank you.â
Nonetheless, he knew you couldnât stay cocooned against him forever, even if he wanted it more than his next breath. It felt awfully vapid to lose your warmth. The air around him was so much colder, like an icy metal. Wonwoo had nearly stumbled over his sneakers as he searched around the end of the bed, prompting him to squat down and shove his shoes back on. Next, he collected your lacquered, expensive high heels, which had practically blended into the darkness if not for the moonlight raining through the windows.
You were sat at the edge of the blankets, waiting for him.
âHow do you feel? Better?â Wonwoo asked while crouching at your knees and fishing up the right heel first.
âMy head still hurts a little. But I think Iâll be fine,â you admitted, allowing Wonwoo to softly touch at the back of your ankle as he helped guide your foot through the black loop. âItâs likeâI can feel it a lot more now. Iâm getting that weird, dreamy sensation, right before it really hits. And my mouth is kinda dry.â
âHm,â Wonwoo hummed, now helping to fasten on the other heel, âIâm sure thereâs more water upstairs. Is that too tight?â
You wriggled your toes and rolled your foot.
âNo, itâs perfect. Thank you so much.â
âShould we try standing?â
Wonwoo straightened back up, reaching out his hand for you to grab. Carefully, you intertwined your fingers with his, and then he accepted some of your weight as he gave you a supportive tug. At first, you wobbled, but Wonwoo was right there to steady you.
You complained about the dizziness, but after a few more steps it had gotten better, and Wonwoo let go of your hand.
âOhâuh,â he gently grasped your elbow, âbefore you leaveââ
Lifting up your arms, you watched rather cluelessly while Wonwoo pinched at the fabric of the very short, white skirt and tugged it further down your thighs, covering the sensitive areas where it had ridden up when you were stretched out against him. A hand latched into his shoulder for balance, and you sighed out gratefully.
âFuck, thank you.â
âYouâre welcome.â
âPlease donât tell me if you saw my underwear.â
He laughed, âI wonât.â
A manicured finger scratched your cheek.
â⊠Theyâre pink⊠with hearts.â
Wonwoo stayed quiet, but then he couldnât fight his smile.
â⊠I know. Cute.â
You seemed flustered at the offhanded comment, which came as a surprise to Wonwoo, because he truthfully didnât believe muchâif anything at allâcould fluster you. The phone in his back pocket buzzed with a text message and Wonwoo assumed it was Vernon asking him about where heâd gone. It was best to go back up to attic and reunite with your friends rather than dwell in the guest bedroom for an eternity. Though, Wonwoo didnât want to leave at all.
âUh, Wonwoo? Can you please wait one second?â
As you two paused at the door, his hand fell off the knob.
âEverything okay?â
Uncharacteristically, you fumbled with your fingers, tugging at the joints like they were disconnectable. He tilted his head at you, curious, and when your eyes locked with his he bit back a dumb facial expression at how wide your pupils had dilated, like an ocean abyss.
âUm, so, that girl Seokmin was talking about earlier? Sarah Gomez?â Sarah? He knew you meant Sierra, though he didnât bother correcting the mistake. âI chatted to Vernon about it. He said she likes you and was flirting and... well, like, I-I have no issue if you⊠if you like her and want to do something, andââ you took in a really big, long breath that felt like a reach for self-comfort, ââjust, if you two want to start hanging out, if you can still make time for our writing.â
Wonwoo stared at you for a second, blinking vacantly.
â⊠Oh, you thinkâno, Her. Itâs not anything. Itâs nothing."
âNothing?â
âYeah, nothing. I promise.â
And it was exactly that. Wonwoo would neverâcould never feel anything even half as strong as the yearning he felt for you. It was something unmeasurable, something bigger than the universe, and yet, it fit into the core of his own chest like a dense and heated star compacting in on itself. Despite being so numbed by heartbreak, and years of a growing apathy, and all that disappointment he harboured toward himself, Wonwoo had sensed each and every time you thawed him out. Youâa light, and yet a cold, awakening breeze.
The girl he was in love with.
Stupidly and utterly in love with.
Your shoulders began to sink as you relaxed at his remark.
Wonwoo shook his head. âSheâs nice. But Iâve talked to her once, and that was tonight, for like, two minutes at most.â
âReally?â
âMmhm.â
âOh, okay. Sorry. I justâI didnât want you to think that I hated it, or that I was going to jump her âcause of what happened upstairs⊠I donât want to talk about what happened upstairs, actually, but thatâs not whatâanyway. Sorry. And, uh, thank you⊠for being there for me. I didnât mean to ruin your night.â
âNo, no. Nothing is ruined,â Wonwoo reassured you, picking up your hand and giving it a squeeze. âIâm having fun. Itâs all a lot but⊠Iâm enjoying it. Iâm always going to be here for you, alright?â
You smiled at him. It was oddly shy, but Wonwoo loved it.
âSo, if you want to head back up, Iâll join you soon enough," he said. "Iâm gonna attempt to find a washroom in this place.â
âThereâs one by the staircase. Clara and Bells used it.â
He kissed his teeth as you giggled at him.
â⊠Oh. Right.â
After you disappeared back upstairs to the attic, Wonwoo locked himself in the washroom for a moment of quiet. He checked his phone, realizing the timeâ3amâin addition to the horribly spelt text messages from Vernon, saying that Mingyu had taken Bells on a walk outside to calm her down. He sighed, signing off on the texts with a thumbs up. The night was only getting louder. Wonwoo didnât know how much longer he could survive or who he would even call upon to get a ride home. Everyone was plastered or buzzed.
He had no desire to sleep here overnight, though if push came to shove, Seungcheol would likely have guest bedrooms to spare.
Turning on the sink faucet, Wonwoo set his glasses aside and cupped a handful of cold water against his face. It was a shock at first, yet it felt so refreshing, and Wonwoo couldnât help but splash some more water until he felt the drops begin uncomfortably running down to his elbows and nudged the tap back off. Once patting dry his cheeks and forehead with a towel folded through a rung secured into the wall, Wonwoo proceeded to sit down on the tiled floor.
Readjusting the glasses back to his face, he stared across the dimly lit room at the half-opened shower curtain and its patterned seashells. For a second, he didnât move at all. But then Wonwoo was getting up, walking over to the curtain and yanking it fully open. He returned to his initial position, sitting against the wall, and started counting all the different seashells. They werenât organized in rows like the yellow rubber ducks from his auntâs shower curtain back in Changwonâthey were miscellaneously placed, spotted more than organized, and Wonwoo counted all the shells at least three times.
âThirty-two,â he whispered to himself.
Deep within his pocket, Wonwooâs phone buzzed again.
[ Vernon | 3:09 am ]: h ey glasses where tf are yoi?
He decided to text his friend back, though he knew Vernon was most likely off his face and wouldnât notice for another hour.
[ Wonwoo | 3:09 am ]: Washroom. Be up in a few.
To his surprise, Vernonâs little typing bubble immediately appeared. Wonwoo developed a sick, squirmy feeling in his stomach for some reason, only to watch the bubble abruptly disappear and not return. Godâhe hoped the boy hadnât fucking fallen out the window or slipped off the billiard table in his inebriation.
Setting his phone down on the tiles beside him, Wonwoo raked his fingers through his hair and sighed aloud again. He didnât care much about messing up the very particular way heâd brushed and swooped it. Instead, Wonwoo thought about you.
He was just with you, and yet he missed you.
Unsure of when the feeling had ever started, Wonwoo began to recognize the ache for you some time agoâand like a little kitchen light in a prairie house that never burnt out, seen across meadows and rivers, even through the darkest nightsâWonwoo had felt the ache ever since. He thought it would die away quietly. It hadnât. It wouldnât. He thought that love would never again step foot inside the house that was his heart. But it had. And it was the little light.
His phone vibrated.
Wonwoo glanced down at the illuminated screen, skimming over the jumbled, misspelt words to Vernonâs text with little regard, thinking nothing of it other than how sky high his friend was.
Another text. He scooped the phone up, grumbling to himself.
[ Vernon | 3:12 am ]: yo I dont mean t be weird buthahha Iâm not gbnna lie u shud come upsrairds of u wanna see it
[ Vernon | 3:13 am ]: acyaully donât lol
Wonwoo had not a fucking clue what Vernon was rambling about and was half-considering it to be all hallucinations. Maybe another fight had broken out. Maybe you were dancing on the table and had kicked over someoneâs drink. There was a small cherry pit of curiosity in his stomach, though Wonwoo wasnât ready to get up. He sat on the washroom floor for another ten minutes or so, deciding that he would go back upstairs, pitch his goodbyes, and book an Uber.
It had been fun, tiring, enlightening even.
But Wonwoo had no energy left to give.
After playing with his hair in the mirror and smoothing out the pieces heâd disheveled, Wonwoo at last pulled open the door and emerged back into the warm corridor, the music still soaring underneath his feet. He began making his way upstairs and back to the attic space. There were at least ten new people to fill the smoky room, none of whom Wonwoo recognized, though he assumed most were Seungcheol or Mingyuâs friends. Vernon was seated on the couch, his arm sunk around a girlâs shouldersâthe girl that had almost bumped into him when leaving the kitchen hours ago.
Someone had cranked the music loud enough to rumble the speakers sitting on the desk. Wonwoo could hardly decipher a single word that came from Vernonâs mouth, forcing him to lean further down as he grasped onto his friendâs hand and announced his leave.
âAwe, youâre headinâ out?!â Vernon shouted into his ear.
âHave to,â Wonwoo replied, âmy brainâs gonna pop.â
Vernon slapped his shoulder. "All goodâhey, thanks for even cominâ along, yâknow? Stay safe. Text me when you get home.â
âYeah, will do. Uh, you seen Princess or Seungcheol?â He asked by Vernonâs head. âIâd be nice to see them before I leave.â
âNo fuckinâ clue where they went, to be honest!â Vernon answered, leaning back with a shrug. âOh! Fuck!â Heâd suddenly latched onto Wonwooâs arm. âDude, you missed it. But if youâre lookinâ for Herâno luck. Sheâs uh, a little busy right now.â
âHm?â Wonwoo mumbled. âI canât fucking hear.â
Vernon proceeded to jerk his friend closer, breath fanning hot against Wonwooâs ear. He turned frozen solid as he intently listened.
âHerâshe came back upstairs, high as a fuckinâ kite. Mingyu came back up right after. I donât know what happened, but, like, within a few minutes, they were on each other, man. I got scaredâthought they were gonna start fuckinâ on the table. But, nah, Mingyu took her to the bedroom down the hall. We all scurried down and listened for a sec. Holy shitâshe had to be gettinâ poundedâlike, mustâve been face down ass up, fuckinâ, gettinâ her guts rearranged or some shit. They were both so out of their minds. It was insane, yâknow. Youâre not gonna see her for a good while.â Vernon then sat back with a hopeless, husky laugh. âMine as well shoot her a fuckinâ text and hope she can still read when Gyuâs done with her!â
For a second, Wonwoo didnât believe him. Not at all. He thought it was a jokeâstaring at his friend, waiting for his face to break like sundried clay, not caring whatsoever that the girl tucked against his side was clearly annoyed at their conversation and waiting for Wonwoo to leave. It was all a stupid joke and Wonwoo wanted to hear Vernon say it. And then, he would punch him for it.
âFunny,â he chuckled.
But Vernon merely shrugged, folding an ankle over his knee. âHey, Glasses. Dunno what to tell âya! Sâall true. I saw it. So Did Seungcheol nâ Princess. Go down there! Listen for yourself!â
Wonwoo shook his head, beginning to laugh. âGo fuck yourself.â
âJeez! Iâm just tellinâ you the truth!â
âAnd you expect me to believe that?â Wonwoo shouted overtop the bass, smiling, even though he was feeling more and more enraged under the surface. âYouâre high as a kite, too, yeah?â
âI saw it, man!â
âYeah. Actuallyâgo fuck yourself. Night.â
Vernon stretched out a hand, attempting to catch Wonwoo by the elbow as he brushed past him, yelling something that was drowned to the humid, loud atmosphere. Wonwoo still believed it was a jokeâa very awful, incredibly distasteful joke that he would probably ignore Vernon over for at least a few days. Wonwoo knew he wasnât your boyfriend. He knew you most likely didnât reciprocate the all the same feelings with as much passion as him. But you wouldnât do that. You wouldnât discard him after heâd been so vulnerable.
He came to the corridor and gazed along the hallway.
Go down there. Listen for yourself.
Vernonâs words wriggled in a bold font to the forefront of his mind, even when he wanted to squeeze them out. But Wonwoo was exhausted, and now highly annoyed, and he knew the last thing he should do is excavate a truth that would be better off buried.
The thing wasâWonwoo had to know.
It was excruciating to not know.
And so, he walked up to each door, lightly attempting the handle or pressing his ear to the wood. He found nothing, and the relief that opened up and flowed throughout his body was equivalent to the freshest breath of air. Wonwoo was about to text Vernon that his stupid stunt had failed when he heard itâthat suspicious, croaked sound which prompted his fingers to stop dead in their typing tracks.
He stared into the door, focusing hard.
No, it was the music. It had been playing all night, anyway.
But then there was a thump. Once, twice, three times.
Wonwoo shoved his ear back against the crack in the threshold, one hand coming to rest ever so softly on the brass handle.
Thump, thump, thump, thump, thump.
Muting even his breath in case it interfered with or somehow warped the noise, he listened longer, his stomach twisting in knots.
âFuck! Mingyu!â
There was ice in his veins. All the blood froze so quickly. It was cold enough to turn his skin to frost but Wonwoo kept listening.
âIf I fuck you any harder, Iâll break this fuckinâ bed, sweetheart. Is that what you want, huh? Tell me, baby. Are you that much of a slut for me? Hm? Are you that much of a whiny slut?â
âY-Yes, Gyu! Mân-nothingâff-fuckâ!â
âAnswer me or Iâll stop!â
âNoânononoâmâsuch a slut for you! Such a whiny l-little... Fuck! Mmmâc-canât take it, Gyu! Sâtoo much!â
âMove your fuckinâ hand! Take it, just like you asked for. If youâre gonna act like such a slut then fuckinâ take what I give you!â
Wonwoo couldnât bear to hear a second longer. He knew it was your voice, your skin, your breath, your pleasure. It was entirely you at the rigid and exploitative hands of Mingyu. And Wonwoo felt sick. Something acidic surged up his throat in a stinging burn. With a hand latched over his mouth, Wonwoo raced toward the washroom, immediately locking himself inside before collapsing at the toilet and upheaving all the contents in his stomach. The nausea had never hit him so quickly before. His insides filled with even more dread.
But he wasnât actually sick.
It was merely the horrible, haunting anxiety that came with opening upâits effects reaping toxically into his flesh because it had all been thrown back in his face like a sloppy high school lunch tray. It was hearing the girl he positively loved moan and writhe and beg for another man who didnât care for her interests or thoughts or soul.
Heâd cut himself open for you, but it didnât seem to be enough.
âJUNE 16TH.
By the time Wonwoo woke up, it was five in the evening. His face was practically plasteredâno, moulded, into the pillowâwith a dried trace of drool streaked down his cheek. Wonwoo had never drooled before. The groan he released upon rolling from his stomach to his back was groggy and brittle, with his hand slapping cluelessly against the bedside table until he managed to grab hold of his black-framed glasses. He slid them on, and then wiggled further up the bed.
Before his irritable hunger, or the twisting of his full bladder, or the headache pulsing behind temples, Wonwoo felt a very gorged wound scissored into his heart. It was stinging raw, like sea salt from the ocean touching at an unbeknownst cut hidden somewhere sensitive on the body. Except, Wonwoo knew exactly where the cut was and how deep it ran and how much he was struggling to even breathe. He stumbled into the washroom, switched on the faucet, but Wonwoo couldnât even bring himself to stare into the mirror.
Instead, he crouched down to his haunches, hands shakily gripping at the edges of the stone-cold porcelain for stability while the water gushed above him. With his eyes pinched shut, Wonwoo focused hard on every breath he took, so hard that white smudges began blossoming against the pitch blackness of his eyelids. His mouth suddenly jutted open, and he inhaled the biggest breath he could manage, but it cracked somewhere in the middle and Wonwoo knew he was going to start sobbing.
Unable to hold the sink any longer, Wonwoo let go of its sharp edges and curled up tight on the floor, the tears sprouting unbridled and glossing to stain over the rouge of his cheeks. In his mind, it was the most pitiful sight. He thought he would have learned his lesson the first time about opening up and trusting another, yet, somehow, he was back in the same fucking place. He thought he was being cautious. Not cautious enough. He thought he was taking his time. Not enough time. Wonwoo never judged anything right.
âJUNE 17TH.
[ Vernon | 8:08 am ]: hey glasses
[ Vernon | 8:08 am ]: havenât heard from u since Friday
[ Vernon | 8:08 am ]: pls tell me u made it home alright
âŠ
[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 11:30 am ]: Hey Wonwoo! Itâs Seungcheol (got ur number from Seokmin btw)
[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 11:31 am ]: Really nice to meet you and glad you could make it out! Ur a super cool dude. Idk if you like pickup basketball but I always play on weekends at the uni B gym. If you ever want to come down or wtv let me know!
[ xxx-xxx-xxxx | 11:35 am ]: Princess says ur awesome
âŠ
[ Seokmin | 12:57 pm ]: Hey Won
[ Seokmin | 12:57 pm ]: Make it home alright?
[ Seokmin | 12:57 pm ]: It was nice to see you!!
âJUNE 18TH.
[ Vernon | 10:01 am ]: Seokmin and I r going mini-putting at that glow in the dark place I got fired from lol u in or nah?
[ Vernon | 10:25 am ]: helloooooooo? u there beautiful?
âŠ
[ Vernon | 3:45 pm ]: glasses are you fucking alive dude?
[ Seokmin | 3:50 pm ]: Everything okay? Did u get sick?
âJUNE 19TH.
[ Vernon | 7:13 am ]: okay haha itâs not funny anymore
[ Vernon | 7:13 am ]: wonwoo I swear if you donât fucking text me back in the next 12 hours Iâm breaking ur door down cuz wtf man im fuckin pissing my pants over here
âŠ
[ Her | 9:00 am ]: hey!!
[ Her | 9:00 am ]: I hope you made it home okay :) sorry I didnât text you. Iâve been sick as a dog omg but I feel better today
[ Her | 9:02 am ]: Iâm so glad u came even if it was a little tense or overwhelming at times lol. I loved seeing u there. donât quite rmbr everything that happened but Iâm sure it was fun
[ Her | 9:03 am ]: miss you a lot alrd
[ Her | 9:10 am ]: we still good to work on the book tmo?
Since he slept well into the afternoon, Wonwoo didnât notice any of the morning texts until much later, when he finally sat down at the dining table to slowly nibble a piece of strawberry jam toast. It wasnât that he was ignoring Vernon or Seokminâs texts, more so the fact he had been trying to stay off his phone altogether. It was just too much and he couldnât afford to worry about anyone else but himself, though, he supposed it might be time to answer poor Vernon.
Wonwoo had disregarded your textsâdidnât glance at them for longer than a millisecond or absorb one written word. At the moment, he didnât know where he stood with you. Saturday had been brutal, Sunday was stupendously worse, on Monday heâd called in sick because the thought of stepping one foot outside his apartment made him ghostly ill, and Tuesday, today, he was quite mopey, lethargic, and hardly contained enough energy to even feed himself.
But he still took another bite from his toast.
It was better than completely and utterly rotting.
[ Wonwoo | 1:42 pm ]: Sorry.
[ Wonwoo | 1:42 pm ]: Wasnât feeling the greatest.
[ Wonwoo | 1:42 pm ]: I promise Iâm alive.
He set the phone down beside his plate, continuing to tear at small sections of the toast to make it easier to eat. Wonwoo didnât bother replying to anyone else. If they were truly that concerned as to why he hadnât answeredâwhich he knew they werenâtâthen Vernon could disseminate whatever information he pleased.
Poking his glasses up with a pinky finger, Wonwoo saw his phone screen illuminate with a text from Vernon.
[ Vernon | 1:44 pm ]: jesus christ wonwoo
[ Vernon | 1:44 pm ]: donât scare me like that I legit thought something happened to u
[ Vernon | 1:44 pm ]: man check ur fucking texts lol
Wonwoo pushed the dish aside and picked up his phone.
[ Wonwoo | 1:45 pm ]: My bad.
[ Vernon | 1:45 pm ]: itâs ok
[ Vernon | 1:45 pm]: soz u got sick
[ Vernon | 1:46 pm ]: u feel any better?
NoâWonwoo had almost audibly laughed. He felt pulverised, like a piece of trembling jelly hardly able to walk. If he was lucky, he might be able to keep the toast down without his grief getting in the way and tormenting the nutrients back out of him. But it wasnât like his friend could do anything about it or make his nightmares end.
[ Wonwoo | 1:47 pm ]: Yeah, Iâm okay now.
You were rightâWonwoo really was a liar.
[ Vernon | 1:47 pm ]: good!
[ Vernon | 1:48 pm ]: yeah got pretty sick myself tbh
[ Vernon | 1:48 pm ]: next day was ass
[ Vernon | 1:48 pm ]: well uh if theres anything u need lemme kno im gonna b out today I could prob stop by whenever
After thumbing up the message, Wonwoo grabbed his plate, walked over to the sink, and tossed it in, hearing it crash into the stainless-steel emptiness. He didnât know what else he would do today. Probably nothing at all except lay in his bed and sleep.
[ Her | 7:00 pm ]: hey pls check ur messages <3
âŠ
[ Her | 8:09 pm ]: hey can u fucking check ur msgs
âŠ
[ Her | 10:15 pm ]: wonwoo this is embarrassing for me PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD CHECK UR MESSAGES!!
Hearing his phone ding for the third time that night, Wonwoo at last rolled over to drag the device aglow from the bedside table. As he lazily fixed the glasses over his face to squint across the fine print, his stomach dropped faster than the incline on a roller coaster. You were getting blatantly impatient with his lack of response.
The thing was, he always answered you. Even if he was in the middle of working, or blazed from his head to his toes, or half-asleep and hardly consciousâWonwoo would always make time to text you back because there was nothing more important in his life.
It wasnât that he was void of all desire to talk to youâit was that his body physically couldnât allow it. His fingers suddenly felt so stiff, like they were wooden, and his mind flashed blank with not a single word to spare. He was still devastated with you, and that was putting it fucking mildly. Breathing out all the conjured despair and pain through his nose, Wonwoo left the phone on his nightstand, rolling back over to his side in another attempt to sleep.
âJUNE 20TH.
[ Her | 8:02 am ]: wonwoo why arenât you answering me?
[ Her | 8:02 am ]: I was going to get rly mad at u and send a long nagging text or a voicemail but I feel like somethings wrong
[ Her | 8:10 am ]: weâre supposed to write today :(
[ Her | 8:35 am ]: Iâm starting to get worried ugh
âJUNE 21ST.
[ Her | 11:20 am ]: wonwoo can you please send me something so I know youâre okay? even just a thumbs up?
[ Her | 11:25 am ]: please
âJUNE 23RD.
[ Her | 9:30 pm ]: okay itâs basically been a week since the party and idk what to do. Iâm so fucking pissed off at you bc why canât you just answer me? Ik Iâm not blocked which leads me to think youâre not pissed at me? otherwise u would block me
[ Her | 9:31 pm ]: youâre reading my texts ik u are
[ Her | 9:34 pm ]: just why are you doing this I donât understand I feel like crying bc I donât know what I did or why youâre ignoring me?? if I did something can you please tell me I just hate this fucking guessing game and I hate you for putting me thru it
[ Her | 9:35 pm ]: fuck you honestly
[ Her | 10:36 pm ]: but I still miss you so much
[ New voice mail from Her | 10:58 pm ]
âJUNE 26TH.
Wonwoo felt the phone continuously buzz in his pocket for the third time that afternoonâhe was getting another call while at the pharmacy and at that point even his boss was beginning to take note. He hardly ever worked morning to afternoon shifts, but another staff member was sick and so Wonwoo was unfortunately hailed upon to take their place, though, he had realized it might be a good idea for him to experience the fresh, softer air against his face, which chiefly prompted him to accept. Even if he had thrown up his breakfast in the washroom just before his shift started, at least heâd tried to eat somethingâthawed out blueberry waffles with butter were still too much for his stomach. He should probably stick to toast.
As he stood behind the counter, marking down another bundle of vitamin bottles and their expiry dates from the clipboard, his boss was handing out prescriptions. Wonwoo was in the midst of a long, impossible-to-hide yawn when his phone started vibrating again, that stupid Sencha ringtone practically grating his ears.
âWonwoo,â his boss said, âI think you better answer that.â
âNo, itâs nothing. Iâll shut my phone off.â
Her reading glasses were poised at the tip of her nose as she typed some information into the computer, each click from the chunky keyboard notably slower than the last.
âWell,â she huffed, clearing her throat, âwhoever it is, that was their fourth time calling you⊠I do believe that warrants some attention. Now, if youâre sure itâs nothing at all, then Iâd rather you keep that phone in your locker, alright?â
He paused, staring down at the clipboard in his hands.
â⊠Can I take just five minutes?â
Glancing over the shoulder of her pristine white lab coat, his boss nodded, and Wonwoo left the clipboard sitting alongside the vitamin bottles. He slipped into the employee break room and out the heavy backdoor, stepping behind the building for the utmost privacy.
Wriggling out the phone from his pants pocket, Wonwoo stared at the four separate notifications, all spread out within the past hour. Vernon had been attempting to reach Wonwoo for whatever reason, though he didnât know what could possibly be so goddamn pressing that a text message wouldnât suffice. He didnât want to find out, either. But Wonwoo had already excused himself, and he didnât want to waste the precious five minutes heâd been anointed.
He dialed his friend back. The call was picked up instantly.
âVernon, what the fââ
âGlasses! Itâs about fuckinâ time you answered your stupid phone! Where the hell are you, anyway? Mars?!â His voice boomed through the staticky line like a boxerâs jab and Wonwoo immediately moved the device from his ear, taking a second to orient himself.
âIâm at work, dumbass. Use your fucking head.â
âWork?! Oh, give me a break. Work! Thatâs your excuse?!â
Letting his temple prop against the uncomfortable brick wall, Wonwoo rubbed at his nose, his eyes squeezing out the sunlight.
âJust tell me why youâre blowing up my phoneâŠâ
âHow about âcause I almost got mugged! Thatâs why!â
âWhaâmugged? Vernon, what? By who?â
âYour girlfriend, thatâs fuckinâ who!â
Wonwoo pushed off the wall using his shoulder, taking a few steps across the cigarette butt-littered walkway. He absolutely hated it beyond comprehension whenever Vernon referred to you as his girlfriendâeven more so nowâthough he was plagued by the thickest confusion and he needed Vernon to calm down in order to explain everything succinctly.
Taking a thorough breath, he stopped pacing.
âOkay, chill out, for just a second. And then talk to me. Because I donât have a clue what youâre yelling about. I told my boss Iâd be five minutes and Iâm wasting out the clock.â
âFuckâokay. So, I was gettinâ gas, alright? Mindinâ my own business when I see Her come outside the store. I thought, oh, hey, I know weâre probably not on the greatest terms yet but Iâll say hi.â He heard the boy cut himself off, and then laugh a bit, as though he were still reeling from the incident. âDude, the second she sees me, I think Iâm gonna die. She practically corners me at my Camry, like, askinâ me all this stuff: what happened to Wonwoo? Whereâs Wonwoo? Do you know whatâs goinâ on? Why isnât he talkinâ to me?â
At that point, Wonwoo had squatted down in the middle of the walkway, rubbing a hand dreadfully against his cheek. He didnât have a cigarette on him, but if he did, heâd be smoking it down to the pathetic nub. Vernon coughed and then started up his story again.
âI try to tell the chickâhey, Iâve got no fuckinâ clue! He told me he wasnât feelinâ well, we havenât spoken muchâlike, fuck if I know all the details to your goddamn life! She doesnât believe Iâm givinâ the full truth. I tell her again: look, heâs real private, he doesnât talk about much. If he is goinâ through somethinâ, just give him space and timeâblah, blah. She tells me Iâm a bad friend! Likeâwhat the fuck, first of all! A bad friend?! Sheâsâokay, anywayâ"
Wonwoo began to pull at some green sprigs of grass pushing up from between cracks in the cement, just to give his nervous, trembly fingers something to do. His heartbeat was climbing higher in his throat.
âShe thinks you hate her, o-or I donât know what she fuckinâ thinks, actually. What I do know is that she hates me ten times more than she did before, nâ that you need to get off your fuckinâ ass and talk to her! Do yâknow scary it is to have Her yellinâ at you?! I thought she was gonna light my hair on fire with the gas pump or some shit! Fuck. My heartâs like, still racinâ. And not to terrify you but she might stop by your place later todayââ
âWait, wait, wait,â he interrupted Vernon while shooting back to his feet, beginning to anxiously pace all over again, âyou think sheâll stop by my apartment? No, that canâtââ Wonwoo stumbled on a rock, then reared his foot to punt it hard across the cement, âI-I donât want to talk to her. I fucking canât. Itâs too much.â
âI donât know what to do about thatâŠâ Vernon sighed, followed by the distinctive spark of a lighter crackling in the background. âDidnât even know you were ignorinâ her⊠what happened, anyway? I mean, this shit seems real serious.â
The silence was so thinned but still unbearably long, and as Wonwoo listened to his friend ignite a blunt in order to mellow out, he felt that unmistakable pain twist at the pliable centre of his chest, like he was being carved into with a whittling tool.
Put simply, Wonwoo wasnât ready to see you, let alone have a civil conversation that could be separate from his bitter, hurt emotion. There was too much he needed to decide alone, and as the hot, stinging summer air around him became concerningly harder to breathe, Wonwoo had no other choice but to hang up on his friend and burst back into the employee washroom. Eventually, his boss had stopped by to knock on the door, to which Wonwoo answered with the most reluctant, pained, hoarse voice he could muster.
âS-Sorryâbe out soonâŠâ
â⊠Iâll give you a few more minutes,â she answered after a momentary pause, most likely realizing something was very wrong.
 But he couldnât hide it any better than that.
Wonwoo stepped inside the pottery shop, the bells overhead tinkling, and the attention of his landlord now piqued as she glanced up from the earth-coloured vase being washed by her paintbrush.
âBack from work?â She asked.
âYeahâŠâ he sighed, making his way toward the staircase, already reaching for the handrail, âcan hardly stand. Iâm exhausted.â
Sweeping some dried pieces of clay off her messy, weathered apron, she lent Wonwoo a sympathetic smile. âWell, rest up.â
He nodded at her.
Coming up to his apartment, Wonwoo was inexplicably relieved he hadnât run into you at any point. He clicked his lock shut with another sigh, a more distant one that arose from somewhere so dusty and cold inside his chest. Maybe Vernon was right, Wonwoo thought while kicking off his shoes. Maybe it would be best to get such an excruciating, uncomfortable conversation out of the way rather than ruminate over how awful it was bound to be.
He scrubbed his hands clean at the sink, then trudged into his bedroom to change from his pharmacy appropriate clothes.
But as he came to sit at the edge of his bed, thinking back to that nightâall the touches and tender glances and how foolishly he presumed it would be okay to open those clandestine, personal pages he always struggled to shareâWonwoo knew it was still too premature. If he were to speak with you now, nothing productive or relatively good would come from it. He leaned forward into his hands and raked them distraughtly through his hair, tugging against the black fronds until he worried about legitimately pulling them out.
You were obviously concerned and worriedâhe knew that, and part of him ached because it was due to his own ignorance.
It just couldnât happen yet.
Wonwoo was mad at you. He felt betrayed, disrespected, used. There was sadness, heavier than his body weight. So much emotion was blistering and alive inside of him with nowhere to go.
Collapsing backward, arms tossed beside his head, Wonwoo closed his eyes and hoped he might fall asleep deep enough in order to never wake up. That way, he would never have to face realityâhe would never have to stand in front of you and cough up some half-baked explanation that only served to protect himself.
Through the haze and mist of his bizarre dreams that whipped by akin to reels from old age movies, Wonwoo saw someone he didnât think would ever reappear in his subconscious againâJeanie.
He had no idea where he was, or what those disembodied figures were that shifted in the blurred distance. She was the only detail he could pinpoint. Wonwoo walked toward her, pushing through something invisible but notably thick, like molasses. He tried inconceivably hard to absorb the intricacies of her face, but when he stared for too long, her features would start moving, almost melting off her as though she was a wax figure in a sweltering auditorium.
Yet, he could hear something.
There were voices becoming louder in his ears, and the more intently he listened for them, the clearer Jeanieâs face became.
The girlâs hair was chin length, dark. Dark like timbre. Or very fine-grated flint. It looked soft to oneâs touch, if, in fact, one could possibly touch her without her shattering. I remember thinking that. The girl will shatter if I bump her, even if itâs an accidental thingâa gentle scraping sort of contact that wouldnât even disrupt a feather.
I remember her eyes, too. My brother owned a box of marbles when he was twelve years old. When I looked into the girlâs eyes, it was like I was eight again, staring over the discarded sewing tin that held my brotherâs smooth, large, galactic marbles he told me to never play with. I hated him for it. I think a part of me still does. But I donât feel that resentment when I look into her eyes. Rather I feel the mystery and curiosity I believed was permanently erased alongside my youth.
Then there were her lips, which were small but plump. They seemed almost stained. I thought an artist took a stroke of watery, blood red paint to her mouth. Itâs even hard to hear her when she speaks. I have to lean in so closely that my chest shrinks in on itself with coyness. I love it too much but I canât let the beautiful, quiet girl know.
Wonwoo knew every wordâhe could recite them endlessly, without a sweat or a hiccup. It was his own writing after all, from the book heâd attempted to write for her during their relationship. Finally, he could see Jeanie standing in front of him, at the edge of clarity. Close enough to embrace and kiss and beg so pathetically for forgiveness.
But Wonwoo was never given the chance.
The voices scattered in a mere instant, whisking away into the baby blue nothingness that engulfed him like a handful of sand grains on a windy beach. Instead, he heard knocking. It rattled his brain.
Knock, knock, knock, knock!
The atmosphere started to crumble. He was caught in that peculiar stretch of being half-asleep and half-awake, when itâs impossible to decipher reality from the reverie that doesnât quite want to let go just yet. Everything shuddered and swayed like a house on stilts.
âWonwoo! Open the fucking door! For fuckâs sake!â
And then, he was shooting up in bed, fast enough to prompt the dizziness that whorled the entire room into a confusing mélange of shapes and evening clementine colours. His heart was barraging against his chest, and Wonwoo had to settle a hand overtop the pulse to confirm with himself that the organ was still inside his body. As he wiped off the sweat that glistened by his temples, trying to mentally grasp the fading fragments from his dream, Wonwoo heard the knocking sound again. Louder. As though his door would cave in.
He knew it was you. You werenât going to leave, either, not unless someone had to drag you out the building by the ankles, or until you spoke to Wonwoo about his impromptu ghosting.
The thing was, Wonwoo was fucking pissed.
He was pissed that such a bittersweet dream had been ripped away from him like everything else in his lifeâmost often love and trustâand he was pissed that he never got any closure.
Wonwoo was just boiling over, tired of everything.
Knockknockknock!
Stumbling into the living room, Wonwoo approached the door that was currently receiving the abuse of a lifetime. His hand grazed the knob, though it was nothing akin to the first time heâd let you inside his apartment, so nervous, flustered, doubting himself. When he opened the door, Wonwoo opened it with an unwavering abruptness that presented you at the threshold, your closed fist left still in the air like you were a marionette frozen by your orchestrator.
With your mouth agape and soundless, Wonwoo wondered if you would even speak. The shock was slowly spreading throughout your face, adorned as usual with that picture perfect makeup.
But heâd assumed too quickly.
âJesus fucking Christ! So, you are alive!â
He stepped aside while you stormed into the apartment, and then he let the door swing shut, capturing the two of you in privacy.
You spun around to glare Wonwoo down.
âWhat the actual fuck is your problem?! Did you forget how to read?! Write?! Answer your fucking phone?! I mean, would it kill you, Wonwoo, to text me back? Even just one word? Or, is that too fucking difficult?! Itâs not like Iâm asking for a goddamn scripture!â
Since March, Wonwoo had known you. It was nearly July.
Never had he seen you like this before. Sure, there were times you had gotten angry and that short fuse inside would burst. It was always jarring, but you tended to regain composure within the next minute or so, shaking off the confining chrysalis of your rage.
This didnât seem so easy to shake off.
You were furious. Wonwoo watched you begin to pace the living room, your hands gesturing about wildly. There was practically a radiation that glowed from around you, red like singed charcoals.
âI canât believe the rollercoaster you have put me through this past week, you asshole! I mean, seriously! I've never been this baffled! At first, I just assumed you were sick! Becauseâwho wasnât sick after that night? But we had to write the next day, and you always get back to me, so when you didnât, my stomach started twisting up! I thought, something has to be wrongâWonwoo doesnât do this! He never stands me up! But I didnât want to pry, because you fucking hate when I pry, so I left it alone! I left it and then I still get nothing!â
A Rubikâs cube was sitting on the coffee table. For some reason, you snatched it up and started jamming at the panels while continuing to pace the living room. Your hands were fizzling firecrackers, surging with ample energy, needing a task to direct all that accumulated anger so the fingers wouldnât fly off your joints.
âBut I see Vernon getting gas! And, wow, everything is just so peachy for him! Life is so sweet and sugary for the local drug dealer who just milked hundreds of dollars out of some stupid rich kids and their latent drug addictions! And you know what I had to do? I had to back him up like a feral fucking cat just to wrangle some information about you! Because I thought maybe you were dead, or kidnapped, or you just suddenly hate me! I looked like such a psychopath!âÂ
You slammed the unsolved Rubikâs cube back onto the coffee table hard enough to dislodge a few pieces. They spotted his carpet like blood spatters. A tattered, deep breath was sucked up your nose.
âSo, here I fucking am, screaming my head off because I am so pissed at you, Wonwoo! I want an answer even if it kills me!â
The air was dead silent, and Wonwoo wanted to let the room breathe for just a minute at most. Every single word you had spewed was compressed into the spaces of his apartment and if he didnât give the atmosphere enough time to settle then his walls would undoubtedly burst. You refused to stare anywhere else but him. There was so much need and pain and agony behind those glassy eyes.
Wonwoo glanced down at his socked feet, swallowed hard, and then back at you. He had to speak. Nothing else would suffice.
â⊠Honestly⊠thereâs no answer I can give you that wonât hurt, or make you any less upset⊠I donât want to drag this out, either.â A subtle breath entered his mouth. âHer, we shouldnât do this anymoreâthe book. I donât want to help. You can finish it yourself.â
It was sharp, so meticulously sharpâa clean, smooth cut.
Though he was calm water on the outside, he felt a trembling behind his ribs. His heart was groveling with him to not be so cruel.
You laughed, titled your head. âWhat?â
âI canât continue to help you write.â
Again, the room was silent.
â⊠You⊠youâre⊠you what?â
Something wasnât connecting inside your brain. For some reason, you could not comprehend what Wonwoo was insisting. His patience was translucent and the longer he stood across from you in the living room, thinking about his interrupted dream and the vulnerability you stepped all over and the time he wastedâhe could only get angrier. His fingernail scraped over his thumb like a tooth.
You wiped something off your face and started to laugh again.
âGodâokay. ThereâsâIâm sorry but thereâs absolutely no way you just said that to me⊠I come here, sick to my fucking stomach, worried about you. Yes, Iâm mad butâI-I still care. And youâyouâre going toâfuck.â A hand then clasped over your mouth as you pointed your gaze to the shag carpet, and for a moment, Wonwoo couldnât decide if you were masking a laugh or a sob. âYouâre going to tell me that we should just⊠stop, in your words. Or, youâll stop, and I can keep trudging on. Am I hearing that right? Is that what you said?â
Wonwoo nodded.
He hadnât realized it, but heâd just detonated a bomb.
At first, there was not a single crease or wrinkle that ruptured your disturbingly placid face. But, surely enough, he was beginning to observe the slow, inevitable fracturing that started with a twitch in your upper lip, and then a wicked furrow pulling down your brow, and that irritable blinking of your eyes as though someone had just blown a cloud of dust into them. Wonwoo knew it was coming.
âFuck you.â
It was so spiteful, almost demonic.
âYou should go,â Wonwoo said, sighing.
Instead, your head rung back and forth.
âNo, actuallyââ you stepped toward him, fingers pinching at the thick, almost palpable air while your eyes fumed with every malevolent thought that burned inside you, ââfuck you, Wonwoo.â
He stared back at you, somehow unfaltering.
âListen, if you donâtââ
âIf I donât what?!â You screamed, your palms slamming against his chest and prompting him to stumble backward. âIf I donât leave, then fucking what?!â Even though it was just you shouting, it sounded like there were hundreds of anguished women behind each word.
Wonwoo felt the pin drop into his gut.
âYâknow what I think, Wonwoo?! I think this is just like that time at SRX, when you told me the same fucking thing! You just picked up all your shit and left! No explanation, no prelude, no nothing! Is that what gets you off? Huh? Treating everyone like theyâre pieces of scrap metal with no fucking emotion?! You can just do whatever you want! Doesnât matter! Who gives a fuck about whose feelings Iâm totally disregarding, whose time Iâm wasting. Iâm Wonwoo! I get to pull the plug on everybody because who cares!â
Your voice had employed a fake, mocking tone.
And while Wonwoo knew the better choice was to maintain his quiet, mature composure, it was much easier to disregard the guise altogetherâchuck it straight out the window like a browned banana peel because as much as heâd like to believe he was refined, evolved, and in control, Wonwoo hadnât ever been anything of the sort.
He shook his head at you.
âI disregard peopleâs feelings? Peopleâs time? Me?â
âYes, you!â
âThat is such bullshit.â
âOh, come the fuck on, Wonwoo! Donât be so damn deluded!â
âDo you even hear yourself? A single word that youâre fucking saying? I disregard peopleâs feelings? Well, what about you, then? Youâand, sorry if this puts a nick in the perfect, angelic image you have of yourselfâbut you just use people. And I donât want to be used anymore. Thereâs my fucking answer that you want so badly.â
You gagged at him, slack-mouthed down to the floor.
âI use people? Wonwoo, are you fucking insane?!â
âNo more than you.â
âHow?! Tell me how Iâve used you!â
He laughed at the demand, rubbing a hand across his scalp. âOh, come onâdonât make me spell it out for you, Her.â
âNo, please do! Please spell out in that scholar-kissed, prestigious vocabulary of yours how Iâve used you!â
Wonwoo paced over to the fireplace mantel, this light-headed, tingly sensation beginning to merge with his blood and flow to every crack and crevice of his body. He couldnât believe this was happening, but now that you two were shredding into each other, Wonwoo saw no point in sugar coating a damn thing. If you wanted the truth, then he would give you exactly thatâit mattered no less to him.
âThe book. How is that not obvious? I mean, for the last few months, thatâs all Iâve done. Is help you. You didnât even care about who I was before. You just wanted someone who could make your life easier and bend to all your whims at the drop of a hat. Iâm the one who has to put up with your obsessions and gripes and your crazy fucking mood swingsâI mean, do you even know how draining that shit is? You donât, because you care about you. You care about writing this masterpiece for Mingyuâwho, I should mentionâdoesnât give a fuck about you. But you know that, right? Youâre a smart girl, arenât you?
You know it when he treats you like a dumb object, belittles you in front of your friends, puts down and shows no support in your interestsâlike, really, Her? Thatâs who youâre in love with? Thatâs the man you want to spend the rest of your life with? Or do you just like him for his status? Is it because he pays for your coke and your clothes and your entire fucking life? And what about Seokmin? Your little puppy dog. Always so eager to do whatever you ask of him. He just does all the shit thatâs not worth your breath. So, instead of wasting your time, you waste his instead.
Bells and Clara? Why the fuck do you even keep them around? You treat them like they're insufferable. But you know they make you look betterâso much smarter, more organized, goal-drivenâtheyâre just the two annoying drunk girls that tag along because as much as you despise them you just canât deny how good they make you look. But thatâs what you do! You use everyone around you and no one ever says a fucking thing because youâre such a tyrant!â
Wonwoo was fully cognizant of how sadistic it all wasâthatâs what he intended. If every word was not going to lacerate or bite or sink so painfully deep into your tissue that it felt like a bony dagger, then there was no point in saying anything at all. You were across from him, vibrating like an excited atom, your fists clenched while every possible hue of rage spilt down the length of your hollow face.
Simple enoughâyouâd asked him to spell it out, and thatâs what heâd done. If could make it any clearer, he would. You then gulped, and there sounded a quiver to your voice that Wonwoo had never heard before. He stood tensely, awaiting your response.
âH-Hm, so⊠thatâs what you think of me?â The end of your question sharply pitched off. âThatâs your conclusion?â
âIt is,â Wonwoo answered, pressing up his glasses.
Rolling your shoulders and clearing your throat, you nodded, meanwhile you stared down at your hands which began to slowly unfurl. Wonwoo realized that your fingers were trembling like dry, autumn leaves in a soaring wind. Heâd never seen that before, ever.
âSo, actually, what I thinkââ you coughed, placing an elbow overtop your mouth to catch the spit, ââI think thatâŠâ
For a moment, Wonwoo thought it was over. Your voice was so quiet, hushed, with hardly an ounce of tenacity or grit. But he should have known better than to suspect you of being so spineless.
âWhat I think, Wonwoo, is that you love to write, and read, because the only person you can communicate with is yourself. You⊠you are so emotionally stunted that it should be fucking studied. That was the most Iâve ever heard you speak, and you used all of it to basically call me fake, manipulative, and shallow.â
âBecause you asked.â
âGod. You are so empty, Wonwoo. Youâre just a shell. You would rather exist inside your literary delusions than reality because there is nothing for you here. No real relationships, no real aspirations, nothing. And you know why that happened? You canât fucking talk about anything. Instead, you just hold it all insideâyou hold it and hold it until it starts seeping out and poisoning everyone around you. Itâs your own fucking fault, Wonwoo. You're gonna drive everyone away. And then have the audacity to somehow point the finger, like theyâre the one with the fucking problem. But itâs you.â Â
He could almost hear the clatter of the metal against the hardwood as you dragged out the metaphorical dagger. There was even a physical pain throbbing at his lower back, though, Wonwoo quickly began to accept the pain was aflame everywhere on his body.
Your lips were pressed together in a strict, firm line. If you opted to speak just one word more, then maybe the dam would break, and his apartment would transform into a sodden, soaked mess.
He watched your head begin to shake, and then you were swallowing down a gigantic, stinging lump. Of course, even at your most barren, emotionally exhausted self, you would get the last word.
âSo you can go fuck yourself.â
And Wonwoo was willing to let you have it.
He closed his door at the sound of your wrenched sob in the corridor. There wasnât much else for him to do other than click the lock shut, pick up the broken pieces from his Rubikâs cube, and walk back into his bedroom. Wonwoo whipped the curtains shut, crawled underneath the cold, thin covers that he stretched over his head.
In the isolating darkness, he slept.
Alone again.
âJULY 21ST.
It was some time in the evening.
A soft, nearly unsettling quietness engulfed the train station.
There was nothing even relatively stimulating that Wonwoo could do apart from aimless surfing through his phone, sparing the occasional glance toward the directory desk with its few uniformed clerks. A navy-blue suitcase was at his side, stuffed full of folded clothes and charging cables. As organized earlier in the year, Wonwoo had spent the week at his uncleâs houseâeven his older brother managed to stop by for a few days to celebrate Wonwooâs birthday.
For the most part, Wonwoo enjoyed his time there. The house was more like a cottage, situated on a fresh, small lake shaded over by the summer canopies of sycamore and evergreen trees. While he didnât dabble in any swimming, Wonwoo had liked stretching out on the webbed hammock down by the firepit, rocking himself back and forth using a long leg that he kept strewn over the edge.
He missed that peaceful feeling engendered by the lakeside wind and the rustling leavesâhow rejuvenating it all was to escape the monotonous hell that was his life back in the grey, stiff city.
Wonwoo clicked on his phone to check the time.
5:50 pm.
He would need to board his train soon.
Unfortunately, whether he liked it or not, Wonwoo had to go back and he had to pick up where heâd so painfully left off. No more pieces of refrigerated chocolate cake straight from the box or sitting outside on the maplewood patio to jingle a fake mouse at the paws of his uncleâs cat. No more packed joints beside the ebbing shoreline at midnight, or waking up to the most ethereal, golden light warming through the curtains as though the skies were made with honey.
Wonwoo sighed, plugging in the earbuds left dangling at his shirt collar. He scrolled through his music looking for a song to play.
Above all, it had nearly been a month since he last spoke to you.
Spoke wasnât even the right word. That day, Wonwoo had set out to ruin you, because he could not bring himself to steep in all that misery and vitriol alone, bearing its weight like he was made from pressurized diamond when in truthâhe was flaky and feeble.
The weeks that passed afterword were all blurred together. He talked to no one. Seldom saw anybody. Wonwoo had hardly existed.
A voicemail was still sitting in his inbox. You had sent it to him during a late night in June after the crazed party at Seungcheolâs family mansion, though Wonwoo never bothered listening to it because it was one of his biggest weaknessesâyour voiceâthe most beautiful sound in the world as you had once phrased to him back at the cafĂ© Wonwoo used to frequent. Then, heâd laughed it off, believing you were beyond full of yourself. Gradually, however, it became truth.
To hear you talk was to feel so in love that it physically ached.
âTrain to Lees Station will be arriving within the next five minutes. Please make your way to platform C for boarding.â
The announcement finished with a ding.
Wonwoo got to his feet and grabbed the suitcase handle, beginning to pull it behind him while following the small, silent crowd toward the elevator. It was finally time to go home. Although home didn't seem like much to him anymore, if not just an aimless place in a bleak city that had lost all its warmth.
10:48 pm.
Wonwoo couldnât sleep, or even take a nap.
When he would rest his head against the window, his eyes could only stay shut for no longer than a measly, frustrating minute. Heâd completely exhausted his playlists. By midnight, the train would stop at his station, anyway. There was nothing left for him to listen to⊠except that voicemail. It was an awful fucking idea, but Wonwoo hadnât been able to shake the temptation since it first crept into his memory all those hours ago.
Wonwoo didnât want to think about youânot until heâd stepped off that goddamn train and had fully left all remnants of his short summer vacation behind. When he was back amongst the ignorant city people, and those towering glass infrastructures, and the constant honking, beeping, and roaring of motorized vehicles, would he even probe the thought. Butâthen againâso much time had passed. So much time to regret, anguish, and loathe his actions.
â⊠So, umâI-I just want to say first and foremost how much you suck for doing this to me, actually. You⊠godâfuck, if I have to blow my nose one more time⊠you suck, Wonwoo! You justâyou fucking suck so much! You and your stupid privacy! I-Iâm not trying to invade your life o-or getâor pry into something I shouldnât beâI just want an answer, I want clarity, I want you toâI wantâI need you to be a fucking person and just talk to me so I donât hate myself! Because right now I feel like this is all my fucking fault!
⊠And it sucks because I donât even know who I can talk to about this. I want to talk to you. But I canât a-and⊠oh my god⊠we were supposed to write a couple days ago. At the park. I knew you werenât going to show up but I went there anyway. I tried so hard to put down a sentence. But I hated all of it. I looked back at everything Iâd written so far and I wanted to erase every single fucking word and blame you for it⊠f-fuck⊠Iâm running out of stupid fucking tissues⊠oh⊠whereâs the extra box?... Iâm such a wreck.
⊠And, um, oh my gosh. Yesterday, at the mall, I went shopping, and I saw this really cute shirt. It was so pretty. Um⊠dammit! Sorry, I just hit my elbow⊠that hurt, Jesus Christ⊠uhâright, so, I saw this shirt and it was so cute with little buttons on it. It was white and blue. A little bit of frills. I know you donât like frills but I promise it was just the right amount. A-And I have the perfect skirt to go with it. So, um, I put it on, and it fit really nice. I took a picture in the fitting room and I wanted to send it to you but youâre not talking to me right now. But, uh, I did buy it.
I was wearing it today. But then, like, the worst th-thing ever happened⊠um, it ripped. I ripped it. I donât even know how, I was just going through my closet and it caught on a broken hanger or something and then all I heard was a b-big rip⊠itâs totally ruined now. I donât know but I burst into tears. I was crying so hard and you were the first person I wanted to call but youâre not talking to me, a-andâfuck, I donât know what Iâm saying anymore⊠I justâIâm mad at you, Iâm so fucking mad but I still care andâplease, I miss you. I really, really miss you, Wonwoo. It hurts inside.
Iâm sorry this is so long⊠I think mâgonna stop talking because my sinuses are closing up and my throat is burning. Um, Iâll go n-now. Justâfuck you. Please text me or call be back. Please.â
The message blipped off.
For a moment, he was frozen solid, staring back at his reflection through the dark window at his shoulder. Iâm so fucking mad but I still care. Then, in an instant, Wonwoo had wished he never listened to the voicemail. He tore out his earbuds and bundled them up, shoving them into his pocket alongside his phone.
He was on the precipice of a horrifying change, but he didnât know exactly whatâjust that he was looking at something so smooth and grey and warmed up from the blistered sun.
He was looking at the rock.
âJULY 22ND.
By the time Wonwoo had returned to his apartment last night, he was dead tiredâa zombie, practicallyâscuffing his feet against the wooden flooring with his suitcase rolling behind. Face-planting upon the bed that hadnât felt the dip from his body weight in a week, he thought he would rest his drooping eyes and give himself a moment to settle. Except it wasnât just a moment, it was hours and hours of sleep that felt like a single second. When he woke up, his arm was completely numbed from being tucked under his cheek.
It had actually scared him. Wonwoo immediately shot up, staring down at the lifeless limb which he couldnât move an inch.
âFuckâŠâ he mumbled to himself hoarsely, squinting against the sunlight which blinded the bedroom. âHow long was I outâŠâ
Digging the latter hand into his pants pocket, he let the blood slowly tingle back into his other arm while checking the time on his phone. However, the device was dead. For all he knew, it was the year three-thousand and there would be flying cars and Blade Runner infomercials gleaming in the city smog. Once he was able to move his arm, Wonwoo slid off the bed and laid down his suitcase, beginning to zip open the compartment.
His charger was packed perfectly on top.
Letting his phone recharge on the bedside table, he returned to unpacking. His laptop, toothbrush, books, socks, pairs of underwear and oversized shirtsâhe stored everything back in its appropriate place, tossing the occasional article into his laundry hamper, until the suitcase was nearly emptied. The only item which remained inside was a small plastic bottle, translucent orange, baring a white prescription label with a few pills remaining side.
His venlafaxine.
Wonwoo had started taking the medication again, roughly a week after his fight with you. Upon completely losing his ability to sleep or eat or survive an entire day without crippling in on himself like the world was a sinkhole waiting for him to slip, Wonwoo came to the realization thatâwhat the fuckâhe didnât have to plainly suffer, and that all the time he spent ignoring the drug because he couldnât even value his life enough to swallow one tiny pill was a useless, cruel disregard for the body that tried so fucking hard to protect him.
Even when it didnât feel like it.
By the time Wonwoo ate breakfastâa simple piece of toast with peanut butterâhis phone was halfway charged.
1:01 pm.
Heâd slept for thirteen hours straight.
âGet over it, Wonwoo. Donât overreact... câmon, câmon, donât give me that sad little face⊠it was funny!â
âLeave me alone.â
âNo.â
âLeave me alone, please.â
âNo.â
âBohyuk! Stop!â
âStop what?!â
âYouâre poking me! BastardâŠâ
âOh, you just said a curse word. Mom is gonna be so mad. Kids your age arenât supposed to start swearing yet.â
âTell her. I donât care.â
âYou donât?â
âNo.â
âWell, what if she takes away your books? I bet youâll get upset then, wonât you? Or those weird little playing cards you have. What if sheâs so mad, she burns them! Youâll cry yourself to sleep like a little baby.â
âI said stop touching me!â
âOr what? What? Nothing to say?â
âNo.â
âFigures.â
â⊠I told you I want to be alone.â
âI know you do. And I let you sit here sulking. But now Iâm just trying to get you to talk instead of mope. When youâre in a bad mood, it puts mom in a bad mood, and then I have to suffer with both of you being all brooding and cranky. Talking is an important skill, you know? Especially when youâre all pissed off. â
âMom is always cranky.â
âAnd you double it.â
âShut up.â
âI really donât understand why Iâm the piece of shit, here. We always play Lifeguard at the water park. Now you want to throw a tantrum because, what? It was funny!â
âYou left me there, Bohyuk! Alone!â
âOkay, so what? Did you die, Wonwoo? Did you get banned from the park? Did you ruin your entire life?â
âNoâŠâ
âExactly. It was uncomfortable, and you didnât like the situation. I get that. But you put yourself in that position, alright? Stupid shit always happens when we play that game. You know the consequences. Weâve been over this before. Remember when you threw that life preserver on my head and almost gave me a concussion? I was pissed at you. But youâre a kid, and you werenât really thinking, and I shouldâve known. Thatâs why I didnât curse you out. Letâs say we both learned a lesson from this and call it a day, huh? C'mon, the bucket is filling up. Let's catch it before we leave.â
âJULY 28th.
Wonwoo was sitting in a wicker-back chair downstairs in the pottery shop, his laptop placed on the corner of a table that had been covered with a white, plasticky sheet. The white was hardly visible through all the smears and stains attributed to month-old dried paint and clay. His landlord had asked him if he would oblige to waiting for the mugs her last class had just sculpted to finish drying in the kiln while she ran to the bank. An egg timer was placed on the desk in her office, and Wonwoo could hear it ticking away in the background.
The door to the shop had been propped open using a mandala decorated rock, and while Wonwoo browsed along an online book on his laptop, he partly listened to the miscellaneous bits and pieces of conversation pushed indoors by the midday summer wind.
Initially, heâd dreaded coming back to the city after the week-long repose at his uncleâs, but in truth, Wonwoo was adjusting better than anticipated. Maybe because he was attempting to look after himself more than usualâhe was actually taking his medication and heâd weened himself from frequent, almost daily smoking to once every few days, though Wonwoo did realize his bud was getting low and the only person he knew to inquire for more was Vernon. He hadnât seen his friend in person since the party, and their texting had admittedly dwindled ever since Wonwoo fought with you.
That was just over a month ago now.
Wonwoo had gone an entire month without texting you, talking to you, seeing you. He was doing better, feeling lighter.
But there remained one core part of him that was still very incomplete and damaged. Suddenly, Wonwoo was shivering in his seat. The warm sun was brightening up the shop and reflecting its light off the stained glass windchimes dangling from the ceiling, though he chose to blame the chill on the breeze trickling indoors. Â
Deep down, however, Wonwoo knew heâd done something wrong. So, very, very wrong. Heâd hurt you like a bullet through bone.
âOkay, this is it, right?â
âYeah.â
Wonwoo glanced up from his laptop, where heâd been staring into the screen with a glazed over and distant expression. Instead, he saw a young woman, about his age, walk into the pottery shop hand-in-hand with a little girl who couldnât have been older than twelve. For a moment, Wonwoo didnât recognize the womanâs featuresâchin length, wavy hair, coarse and russet brown, tanned skin and a face polka dotted with freckles. Piece by piece, the memory rebuilt itself in his mind and he felt somewhat stupid.
âOhâjeez, Wonwoo! What the heckâyouâre like, the last person I would expect to run into here. Wow, itâs been a while!â
âUh, yeah. Since the party, I guess.â
Sierra, the girl whoâd fashioned together his drink.
âYeah. That feels like forever ago... whatâre you doing here?â
He pushed down on the laptop lid and sat up straighter in the wicker chair, accidentally looking into the eyes of the girl who was shyly clinging to Sierraâs side. She immediately glanced elsewhere.
âI live here, actually.â
âOh! Thatâs cool,â Sierra smiled. âYour family owns it, or?â
âNo. The lady who runs the pottery shop also has ownership of the units upstairs. She rents them out. I live up there.â He pointed his finger toward the ceiling as to emphasis his point.
âOkay, okay, that make a lot more sense. Still really cool.â
âWhatâre you doing here?â He asked, adjusting his glasses.
âOhâyeah. So, this is my younger sister, Cora,â Sierra explained, grabbing onto the petite girlâs shoulder. âShe was supposed to have her first class today, but she was feeling, umâwell, you know how kids are. Sheâs just a bit shy. Thereâs nothing wrong with that.â
âNo, of course not,â Wonwoo concurred, noting the resemblance between the two. âI was deathly shy when I was little.â
âRight? We were just gonna stop by to meet to the teacher ahead of her next class. I thought it might make everything easier.â
Wonwoo frowned. âShe left, actually.â
âShoot, really?â
âYeah, said she had to run to the bank. Iâm sitting down here because Iâm waiting for the pottery to finish drying in the kiln. I would give you an ETA, but I have no idea when sheâs coming back.â
Glancing down at her sister, Sierra ruffled the girlâs hair.
âThat sucks, huh?â
But she said nothing, just clung tightly to the back of Sierraâs yellow shirt, deciding to nod her head in response. Sierra shrugged.
âIs she usually here around this time?â
âYeah,â Wonwoo confirmed, âyou could try again tomorrow.â
âOkay, wicked. I would wait but Iâve got a list of errands for today and Iâm not even halfway through. And Iâm sure Cora wouldnât want to sit around, anyway. We just got a pool put in at the house.â
âSounds fun.â
âDo you swim?â
âNo, not at all. The most I do is dip my feet in.â
âAw, boo,â she said with dismay, shoulders sagging. âWell, it was nice running into you, Wonwoo. Andâum, it might not be your thing, but I work at the Honeymoon almost every nightâlike, six to midnight. So, if youâre ever in Centertown, you should stop by.â
âOh, good to know.â
âMâkay, later!â
Wonwoo waved. âBye, guys.â
Once they left the pottery shop, Wonwoo set his elbows onto the plastic-sheeted table and leaned into his cold hands, sighing heavily as the egg timer continued ticking. Sierra was polite. She seemed warm like the sunshine and beautifully sincere. Wonwoo could read from her tender brown eyes that she desired more out of himâa friendship, a relationship, maybe something blissful, blurred, and in between. Though, it was nothing Wonwoo could give her.
He thought about the comment she made in regards to their poolâif he ever swam. Wonwoo didnât swim, not since that horrible incident of Lifeguard all those years ago, back at the waterpark he used to attend alongside his older brother. Still, it got him thinking.
Reverting to his desktop, he looked for a folder.
writing.footage
It contained all the video clips heâd taken of you with the camcorder throughout your writing journey. He had every single one, from the grassy running ring at the high school to the footage heâd taken of the evening sky the day you two visited the beach.
His mouse hovered over a clip.
Fuckâhe really shouldnât do that. Every moment would sting like a red hot, peeling sunburn. The mouse moved away from the video clip and Wonwoo sat back in his chair, rubbing a hand against his face at the near torment. But⊠it had been so long. He missed you.
âWhateverâŠâ he sighed to himself, clicking the video.
It took a moment to start up.
âOkay! So, this is Mooneyâs Bay. It encompasses chapter three, andâWonwoo, you have to film my intro! Why are you filming the sand?â
âSorry, the lightingâs not good.â
âOh.â
âStand this way.â
âThose people will get in the shot.â
âWho cares? Theyâre far away.â
âIâll stand in front of them⊠okay, are you zoomed in?â
âYou told me not to zoom in.â
âNo, I didnât!â
âRemember when I zoomed in and you said I shouldnât do that because it doesnât capture the scenery properly?â
âWell, I said that because you were zooming in on me when you were supposed to be getting the ambiance shots! Thatâs why I said donât zoom in. You can zoom in for the intro. Is the light better?â
âYes.â
âOkay. Does my hair look good? Actually, do you think itâs too windy? Iâm worried about it being too windy, and then I canât hear my introduction. I have to be able to hear my introduction. Iâm really nervous. Waitâlet me take off my flip flops. Thereâs so much sand in them and I hate it. Okay. Am I covering the people?â
âYes.â
âShould I start now?â
âGo ahead.â
âOkay. So, this is Mooneyâs Bay, and⊠and⊠waitâoh no! I forget my lines. What was I supposed to say, again?â
âIâm not sure, itâs your script. Something about chapter three.â
âOh, I remember now! Okay, again from the top. Cut this out!â
He remembered that warm day as clear as the bayâs shiny waterâspecifically, the plethora of takes he had to film because you kept fudging up the script typed out on your phone. Wonwoo surfed through the rest of the clips pertaining to the beach, smiling to himself whenever you would fumble the words for the umpteenth time and groan in sheer frustration. Eventually, the backdrop turned from blue skies to an evening sunset. You two had spent hours there, and the filming had ended with tangy lemonade and watermelon.
He moved to a different assortment of clips.
âArenât you going to say anything?â
âLike what?â
âI donât know, introduce the flavour. Like show and tell.â
âOh, like a vlog?â
âYeah.â
âOkay. This is my flavour: itâs strawberry cheesecake. The red bits are the strawberries and those chunks are the cheesecake. I picked it because this is the flavour I got when I went on my first date with Mingyu. I love strawberries the most. Cheesecake is my favourite cake. Um⊠I donât really know what else to sayâŠâ
âWhereâd you get it from?â
âOhâfrom The Big Chill!â
âWhat would you rate it?â
âLike, seven out of ten.â
âNot perfect even though itâs your favourite things?â
âWellâbecause the ice cream is too hard. I like soft ice cream. If I waited like, ten minutes, then ate some, it would be higher.â
âThatâs disgusting.â
âOkay! Youâre not supposed to be inserting your personal comments! Youâre just supposed to say prompts and stuff. Donât make me revoke your camera privileges.â
âYou know anybody else with my camera operating skills?â
âSeokmin.â
âHe couldnât film his way out of a paper bag.â
âIâll be sure to tell him that.â
âItâs nothing I havenât already said.â
The abrupt end to the video made Wonwoo sink down in his chair with a dumb, wide smile. You did in fact, wait the entire ten minutes for your ice cream to significantly melt in the cup, then forcing Wonwoo to watch with unfiltered judgement as you stirred it up like a smoothie. You said it helped with your sensitive teeth.
He could understand that.
Knowing he wouldnât be able to watch much more, he chose one final clip to openâthe most recent one heâd taken. It was from the day you raced home in the rain after exploring the nature museum, right before Princess had swung by to pick you up. He had been fooling around with the camcorder while you two sat on the couch.
â⊠Um, so⊠do you care if I keep this shirt? Itâs a good bedtime shirt, and I donât really have any. I mean, only if you say itâs okay.â
âUh, sure. I hardly wear it anymore, to be honest.â
âOh. Whatâs it from?â
âA math competition thing. If you straighten that part out⊠thatâs Eulerâs number⊠this other one is your classic integral.â
âHm, yeah. Thatâs such a great conversation starter. Have you guys ever heard about the integral symbol? Such a classic!â
âYou jest but it got me quite a bit of recognition.â
âLike you want recognition.â
âYeah, thatâs why I stopped wearing it.â
âAh, okay. Â So if I wear it out, will I get random geeks coming up to me on the street asking about it?â
âProbably.â
âMm, okay. Iâll keep it.â
âYou want that, huh?â
âYes, so when they come up to me, I can say I have a really smart, talented, loser friend who owns it. So I can brag about you.â
âThatâs⊠nice, I suppose. Can you drop the loser part?â
âNo. Itâs to keep you humble.â
âSeriously? Life has already humbled me enough, I think.â
The clip ended, and Wonwoo was staring back at himself in the screenâs black reflection. He could recall that oddly hollow feeling which situated uncomfortably large in the pit of his stomach when he realized how much he missed you.
But how could he not yearn for you? When you were so captivating, and infinitely brilliant, and stubbornly hard-headed in a tantalizing way that made him feel completely alive and invigorated.
I fucked upâit was all he could think as he pushed his laptop away and buried his head into his armsâI fucked up, I fucked up, I fucked up and I pushed away the most amazing girl Iâve ever known.
Suddenly, the small egg timer that had been sitting on the landlordâs desk a room away erupted. It started rattling and clanging and while Wonwoo should have shot up from his seat to turn it off and check the sculpted mugs cooking in the kiln, he stayed in his seat.
He felt glued to it.
All he could think about was how badly he needed to talk to you, hear your voice, see your face, smell your scent. Maybe he didnât deserve itâWonwoo knew he didnâtâbut he loved you too much.
He couldnât let you fade into a deep, dark memory.
âJULY 30th.
Wonwoo hadnât been to his favourite cafĂ© on Sunnyside Avenue for almost two months. He was therefore quite surprised at their new interior upon giving into a last-minute whimâvisiting for a quick coffee. They had finally swapped their metal chairs for more cushiony seats, and the circle tabletops for square, wooden ones. The style of chalk writing on the overhead menu boards had changed, too.
He didnât even recognize the baristas.
Usually, Wonwoo only stopped at the café to work on his writing and indulge in a raspberry lemon scone that was supposed to be a treat for having been productive, though he always ate it before a single word would ever grace the paper. Since he began helping you with your book back in March, he frequented the café less and less. It brought a smile to his face, recalling the incident of you slapping your hand against the window and jarring him half to death.
He used to be so afraid of you. Never would he imagine the comfort youâd end up bestowing himâand the fact heâd lose it all.
âI can help whoeverâs next!â
Turning his attention from the corner where his old table used to sitânow occupied by two girls sharing a latte and giggling as they perused their phonesâWonwoo approached the barista he failed to recognize, waiting to take his order. Realizing heâd lost his metaphorical loyalty badge and that he could no longer just coolly toss out, âthe usualâ, Wonwoo had to remember what it was he even liked.
âJust an iced coffee,â he said, âand, uh⊠do you still have those scones with the raspberry and lemon filling?â
As the barista pressed something into the tablet screen, he shook his head. âUnfortunately theyâre not made here anymore.â
âOh, damn.â
âWe do have a new strawberry scone, though, for summer. Itâs got a confectionary sugar drizzle. Itâs pretty popular.â
âUh, donât worry about it, Iâll just take the coffee.â
âNo problem, man. Total is three ninety-nine.â
âCard, thanks.â
It might have been stupid, but Wonwoo couldnât think about strawberries without thinking of you, because you always smelled like a sweet, ripe, and vibrantly red strawberryâit was the scent of your skin, which he so pathetically missed feeling warm and velvet against his. He bet one-hundred percent you would have ordered that scone.
After tapping his phone against the card reader, Wonwoo stepped aside and waited for his coffee. It was a Sunday. He had work tomorrow. There wasnât much happening in his life.
âIced coffee, right here.â
The barista slid the cardboard cup across the counter. Wonwoo grabbed it with a polite thank you, and then settled an inspecting glance around the cafĂ© for a place to sit. He shouldnât have come in the afternoonâit was always their busiest hours apart from early morningâand it seemed the redesign had promptly boosted their relevance, because Wonwoo couldnât remember a time when the tables had ever been so filled. He stepped further into the seating area, though, someone familiar had just caught his eye.
Princess.
She was sat at a table close to some beautifully potted ferns and palm leaves, typing on a laptop while a plate with a half-finished sandwich and a plastic cup of matcha remained by her elbow. At the exact moment that Wonwoo saw her, Princess had also looked up, and as though by magic, their gazes caught without hesitation.
At first, Wonwoo panicked. The breath dropped out of his chest and he pondered waving to her, turning tail, and fleeing. There was not a single doubt in his mind that she was aware of the fight between you and himâshe was your best friendâand Wonwoo knew from the manner in which her lips apprehensively curled into a numb smile that Princess already knew everything. Still, she waved at him.
Wonwoo gulped, waving back.
Maybe it was an indescribably stupid decision, but Wonwoo opted to swallow the fear and dread and anxiety in his throat. If she didnât want him to sit with her, then he trusted that Princess would make such a boundary extremely clearâbut Wonwoo had to try. He had to make some sort of initiative, some form of amends, and above all, he wanted to know about you, even if the answer hurt terribly.
âUh, hey⊠how are you?â
Princessâ tattooed hands stilled on the keyboard. She flitted her round, deep brown eyes up at him, and he felt frustrated that he could extract little to nothing from their depths. Again, she smiled.
âIâm alright. Just working on some forms for work.â
Wonwoo nodded. âDo you, uh⊠do you care if I sit?â
She didnât speak, but continued to stare at him with a lip worried between her teeth, and it was then Wonwoo could realize the conflict swimming through her gaze. The panic started to build again, and the regret surged into his stomach like a tsunami.
âReally, I donât mean to make things awkward,â Wonwoo was urged to clarify, the cold cup feeling increasingly slippery in his clammy hand, âI can go. I donât want to cause any problems."
âNo, noââ Princess shook her head, meanwhile her tone remained strained and uncertain, ââitâs okay. Uh, yeah. Sure. Take a seat. I mean, itâs plenty full in here. Iâm not that busy.â
âAre you sure? Becauseââ
âYeah, Iâm sure. You can sit, Wonwoo.â
He exhaled softly, proceeding to pull out the chair. It felt quite nice sitting against a cushion rather than the hard metal he remembered.
Princess reached for her matcha, placing the straw between her lips and taking a long, heavy sip as though to prepare herself for the awkward nature of their incoming conversation. Wonwoo did the same. He didnât even know where to start. Was it better to burn off his nerves through small talk or jump straight into the heat?
She moved the long braids off her shoulder, heaved in a breath.
âWell, letâs just get the bulk of this talk out of the way. I know what happened. I know youâre not friends with Her anymore. I know the way it ended was super ugly. I know that she spent, like, three days at my apartment, miserable, in tears over you, Wonwoo. So, I do feel a certain way toward you. I hope you can understand that.â She closed the lid of her laptop and sighed. âBut, weâre adults. And I guess Iâd be lying if I said I wasnât curious about⊠some things.â
âNo, IâI get that.â
Already, he wanted to throw up. Despite all his repressing, he could still hear that choked, vulnerable, completely broken sob you croaked out the day you left his apartmentâhow mercilessly it had haunted him for the entire weekâmade him believe he was a monster, a masochist, the lowest form of human being. Wonwoo felt there was no excusing it. He would always hate himself for it.
âWhat are you curious about?â Wonwoo asked quietly.
Princess glanced down for a second, staring at the smooth, black surface of her laptop. She then clicked her nails together.
âI-I just⊠how could it⊠how could it go so wrong?â The girl wondered aloud, leaning back into her chair, seeming despaired at the aftermath. âFrom the second I saw her get defensive of you at Spring Street, I knew how much she cared. I knew that you meant something to her and for whatever reason, she wasnât going to let anyone screw it up. And she became so much lighter. Everything wasnât an attack. Everything she did wasnât so agonizing anymore.â
Wonwooâs knee wouldnât stop bouncing underneath the table, the nervous energy accumulating rather than draining away. He wished he had the perfect answer, but he couldnât yet find one.
Her head tilted, shoulders shrugging. âI donât know⊠I thought you could be so good for Her. She doesnât have anyone in her life thatâs like you. ButâI meanâfuck, weâre here, now, arenât we?â
âMmhm,â Wonwoo mumbled, staring straight into the girlâs shiny, unwavering eyes that held so much sentiments of angst and betrayal, like she herself was carrying your rage. âPrincess⊠I⊠I want, so fucking bad, to give you a good answer for why everything blew up. I do. Butâjustâevery time I try to look inward, every time I try to understand it at its core, I feel like itâs all shrouded. I know I fucked up. I know it. She madeâmakesâme happy, too. But Iâm not there yet.â
âYouâre not where?â She asked, pressing forward. âAt a place where you can understand what you did? Why you did it?â
Fiddling with his cup atop its cork coaster, Wonwoo nodded.
He then chewed into his bottom lip, feeling the skin break.
âCan I ask⊠what did you think of me? When she told you what happened? If you have to be brutally uncouth, I donât care.â
Princess abruptly laughed at the request, head tumbling forward into her gold-ringed hands. He wasnât sure if she would oblige, as the laugh sounded nervous yet tinged with disbelief, which led Wonwoo to believe she had thought some very unpleasant things.
âUm⊠letâs see...â she chuckled hesitantly, smoothing antsy hands along her dark skin, âI was definitely gagged, letâs start there.â
He furrowed his brow. âWhat do you mean?â
âI donât knowâI justâI didnât believe that you would be capable of being such a fucking asshole. I meanââ she collapsed back into the chair, throwing up her arms, ââcan you blame me? Youâre quiet, well-mannered, intelligent. Everyone loved you at the party. I think the fact you could turn around and be so⊠s-so cruel, so hostile, like you wereâI donât knowâtrying to gut her, just seemed impossible. But Her doesnât lie. She has no reason to make it up. I wasnât able to think much at all because I went comfort mode. I just wanted to focus on getting her mind off you.â
âAnd⊠afterward?â
âWell, I wanted to destroy you, obviously.â
â⊠Fair.â
âSo, can I ask you something?â
Instantly, his stomach dropped to his feet, and Wonwoo was certain his face had paled like a washed-out t-shirt. Princessâ gaze settled upon him with intense focus. Wonwoo scratched at his thumb.
âOkay.â
â⊠Do you love her?â
He didnât answer. Even if he wanted to, the words erased from his mind in a mere snap of oneâs fingers. Instead, Wonwoo stared at the girl while she politely waited for a sign, knowing his very loud, lacking response was an answer enough in itself if his eyes werenât already panicked and practically writing the narrative for him. To admit his true heart to another person was the most horrifying predicament Wonwoo could articulate. He was far from capable.
Princess raised her brow. âIâll take that as aââ
âYou canât tell Her. Please, please, please, whatever you do, whatever you think of meâjust, please donât tell Her,â Wonwoo blurted, the perspiration drenching the palms that sunk into his knees. âI-I donât know what Iâll do if she finds out. Really, Iââ
âWonwoo.â Princess reached under the table, and he felt her cool, soft hand settle overtop his. âIâm not going to say anything to anyone, okay? Just breathe. You look like youâre going to haveâ"
âDonât say it,â he exhaled shakily, âI-I knowâŠâ
He proceeded to close his eyes, draw in a long, deep, thorough breath, while his knee continued jittering and his chest felt so tight and twisted with fear. He closed his eyes and recalled the washroom belonging to his auntâs house in rural Changwon, with the bright blue shower curtain and its pattern of yellow rubber ducks.Â
Wonwoo counted all the rubber ducks on that childhood curtain, the number having been scorched into his mind like a scar, until he felt the world fall back into tune. The steadiness of Princessâ hand over top his was a gentle reminder that he was indeed alive and not a puddle of mistakes melted to the cafĂ© floor. Pushing up the glasses that had slipped down his nose, he reopened his eyes to see the girlâs the sympathetic, earnest face. Wonwoo cleared his throat.
âUm, yeahâIâm okay⊠justâuh, th-thank you.â
She pulled her hand away, smiling, âno problem.â
The two proceeded to sit in silence as Wonwoo further collected his bearings. He glanced around the cafĂ©, recognizing no one else amongst the crowd, and spotting more and more modifications that had appeared since his last visitâthe light fixtures overhead were different, the decorative wall art had been replaced, and the baristas were all wearing hats with a new, improved logo. So much had developed in his absence. So much had to change.
He looked at his iced coffee, which he took a sip from, and realized that he didnât prefer the taste quite like he used to.
Wonwoo sighed, pushing the drink away from him.
âPrincess?â
âYeah?â
âI know I donât deserve this. I know that me even asking this might seem so unprecedentedly stupid. Her probably doesnât want you talking to me, which I get, and I know you feel conflicted about me being here⊠but⊠fuck⊠Princess, I have to know something about Her. Anything. I donât care if itâs the smallest, most insignificant detail you could think of. Just one thing⊠thatâs all.â
The delivery was undoubtedly begging, perhaps pathetic, but he could not find it within himself to care. He missed you too fucking much, to the point it was becoming insufferable, unliveable.
Folding one leg over the other, Princess leaned back and grabbed onto her matcha, spinning it slightly. She was no longer meeting his eyeline, and that drowned his hopes in a watery grave.
He settled his elbows onto the table, his finger gripping at the air with every pleading word that he could somehow conjure.
âI know you donât want to; I-I know it. I know she fucking hates me, detests me, wishes we never met. But this is the most regretful Iâve ever been, a-about anything in my life. AndâI know that Iâm pushing youâIâm sorryâIâm so fucking sorryâif I can just know one thing, Iâll leave you alone. I-I mean, is she⊠did she get a new shirt, after that one ripped, on the hanger? Does she still go to the SSA meetings? OrâI donât fucking knowâis she writing? Is she doing something new? Have you seen her smile at all? Or heard her laugh? Genuinely laugh. The one where she canât even breathe and she grips onto you and buries her head into your neck? Is she still just as quippy? Constantly rambling over herself? I miss that so much⊠I miss all of it⊠everything about her⊠thereâs nothing I donât miss.â
Princess was biting her lip, refusing to say a word.
Wonwoo hadnât intended to barrage her. Nonetheless, he couldnât leave the cafĂ© without wholeheartedly trying.
âFuckâŠâ he exhaled, placing his forehead against the black wood of the table, breathing back the bitterness, the frustration, the tears. Princess was a boulder, it seemed. Heâd lost, picking his head back up after a moment of composure, and pushed out his chair.
âYouâre leaving?â She asked, her gaze heavy with sadness.
He nodded. âI justâI⊠yeah.â
âOkay⊠later.â
âBye, Princess,â he answered, his throat irritably tight.
â⊠Wellâo-okay, actuallyâŠâ
As her voice picked up amongst the cluttering dishes and drawls of conversation, Wonwoo turned around to see the girlâs remorseful expression and the hands shoved tightly under her arms. Princess paused, staring at the coffee mug heâd abandoned at the table.
â⊠She needs you.â
Wonwoo stiffened, then nearly scoffed in disagreement.
âShe hates me. What do you mean?â
But Princess shook her head, making a twisting motion at her lips like she was fastening the lock to a chest. It was her one thing.
And Wonwoo had no idea what to make of it.
It had been far too long since Wonwoo last texted, spoke to, or saw Vernon. When he left for an entire week to stay at his uncleâs cottage in the midst of July, he hadnât even shot the boy a message that he was leaving. As cold or uncompassionate as it may have sounded, Wonwoo never really considered Vernon to be that important or necessary to his life until he sat back and thought about their relationship: a studious loner with an unperturbed drug dealer who somehow formed a bond that hadnât predictably eroded.
Sure, it helped that Vernon became his plug and there was technically a reason for their symbiosis, but what Wonwoo hadnât taken note of was their closeness over the months.
Perhaps it was guilt, or the sting of losing you and having experienced Princess treat him like an ugly secret, or the simplistic, innate need for human contact, that Wonwoo finally decided to reach out and invite the boy over for a smoke. Vernon agreed, though it wasnât until the near cusp of midnight that he stopped by. Together they sat on the complex rooftop, two perfectly packed blunts between them, lit by their sparking lighters. The conversation drifted from topic to topic like a passive leaf being tugged through a breeze.
Wonwoo was able to realize how desperately he needed a moment like thatâno guards, no anxiety, no hyper-analyzing every little goddamn comment or actionâjust friendship.
And Vernon made it easy.
âNot to mention the fact that Seokminâhe fuckinâ sucks at mini-puttinâ by the way. Jesus Christ, man. There was a twelve-year-old girl a hole behind us who was makinâ shots like Tiger Woods, and then here we are, waitinâ for Seokmin to make a shot that is damn near impossible toâlike, okayâtell me why heâs got one leg on the fuckinâ rock and the other stretched halfway across the laneway like he's droppinâ into the splits? Why does it need tâbe that hard!â
Shaking his head, Wonwoo half-laughed, half-coughed into his elbow, the smoke instantly rushing back out his mouth.
âHoly fuck. I wish Iâd seen that in person.â
âNo,â Vernon deadpanned, rolling up his sleeves, âyou donât. At that point, just pick up the ball and move it into the hole, man. That twelve-year-oldâs got places to be and weâre over here climbinâ on rocks and crawlinâ under bridges like itâs a fuckinâ jungle gym.â
âIâm surprised they even let you in.â
âOhâme too,â he chuckled. âFuck someone once in the storage closet at glow-in-the-dark mini-put and suddenly youâre âa detriment to the company.â Like, get the fuck outta my face.â
âYou live, you learn.â
âWell, sheâs still there. Somehow.â
âRuby?â
âYeahâjust sold her like two-hundred bucks of ecstasy.â
Wonwoo threw his head back and cackled.
âYou still talk to her?!â
âNo, noâRubyâs chill! Always came to work stoned half the time, though. Dude, no. It was the other girl that fuckinâ ratted on us.â
âDamn⊠so, is Ruby the one?â Wonwoo teased.
As Vernon removed the joint from his lips, a swift trail of smoke ejected into the nighttime air. He huffed in disagreement.
âNah. Sheâs a good friend you can screw on the low. Know you guys wonât catch feelings. Makes it easy. Thatâs what Iâm about.â
âYeah. Simple enough.â
Scraping his thumb against the rough spark wheel of his favourite Bic, Wonwoo lit the small, dancing flame, bringing it close to his blunt and crisping the paper more heavily. He proceeded to draw in a long, smooth breath. The atmosphere was almost silent if not for the distant murmur of midnight traffic. Wonwoo watched the abundant smoke as it slowly streamed out his nose. It eventually dissipated against the blackness, existing just long enough for Wonwoo to appreciate that weightless sensation it gave him.
Vernon swept a hand through his hair, smiled at Wonwoo.
âOkay, so, feel free to tell me to fuck offââ the boy began with notable caution, taking a quick hit before removing the blunt from his lips ââbut, uh, what exactly⊠did happen⊠between you and Her?â
For a moment, the vigilantly placed question hovered in the cool summer air as Wonwoo breathed out another cloud. However, he didnât let the smoke disappear on its own, rather he blew into it harshly and forced the flurry to melt. One way or another, he knew this topic would surface. And Vernon was rightâhe completely had the right to tell his friend to fuck offâbecause no matter how much time had passed since, Wonwoo still felt the wound with all the freshness and intensity of that night. He remained stiff, thinking.
Sensing the reluctancy, Vernon abandoned his request.
âYâknow, it doesnât matter. Weâre havinâ fun, anyway.â
Wonwoo was going to agreeâyeah, letâs skip itâbut at the last second, he burned the reliable safety of his choice. The thing was, he hadnât really discussed the fight with anybody. Sitting down and talking to Princess didnât bestow the alleviation or closure that Wonwoo thought it would, especially considering her loyalty to you and the fact she hadnât desired that conversation more than she desired a hole in the head. He was able to relieve some tension upon visiting his uncleâs, but, ultimately, Wonwoo was doing the exact thing you had accused him ofâletting things sit and fester.
Shutting everyone out.
Poisoning himself, and those around him.
After tugging at the edge of his thick beanie, Wonwoo rubbed a knuckle against his forehead and decided to bite the bullet.
âUh, noâall good. Youâre curious, I get it.â
Vernonâs eyes widened underneath the moonlight and the warm, glowing radiance that crept over the building precipice. He nearly choked on the smoke.
âWaitâdude. Really?â
âYeah.â Wonwoo angled his face toward him, nodding.
âOkay, uh⊠wow. Wasnât expectinâ to get this far.â
âNeed a moment to catch your breath, yeah?â
âPshâshut the fuck up, Glasses⊠actuallyâno, yeah. Let me take a hit first. I feel like this is gonna be a deep-dish pizza, yâknow?â
âSomewhat, I suppose,â Wonwoo agreed.
He copied his friend, crisping the blunt one last time before pressing his lips around the paper and drawing in a big breath.
Right before the prickling could desiccate his throat, Wonwoo exhaled everything into the abrupt breezeânot just the smoke, but his fears, his worriesâwhatever might stunt or thwart him from understanding that it wasnât so terrifying to be candour.
Vernon shook out his shoulders.
âOkay, player. Youâve got my attention.â
Wonwoo swallowed.
How the fuck does one go about saying this?
âSo, uhâŠâ
Where does he even start?
âI guess the important part isâŠâ
Whatâs going to happen if he chokes on all his words?
âOkay, so, we basically⊠umâŠâ
Wonwoo, you have spent practically your entire life writing and crafting sentences and the most adolescent, tormented prose imaginableâhow is it that you cannot configure one thought?
âIâm⊠Iâm kind of in love with her.â
He thought about glancing at Vernon to gauge his reaction, especially when his friend didnât offer one word in response, not even a pointed hmph, or a sniffle, or something satirical to suggest that all his teasing had some actual truth and substance.
But Wonwoo didnât look.
Vernon was giving him the floor to keep going.
âAnd⊠that night, at the party, we had this really sincere moment⊠I mean, maybe it wasnât that sincereâsheâd just done a line of coke and had been sipping alcohol and smoking all night. But thatâs how it felt when it was happening. After the bullshit with Bells, I took her to a spare bedroom to calm down. She asked me to lay with her.â
Wonwoo paused to collect his breathing. Even just the memory of your body pressed against his was enough to rake up those buried emotions from his insides like old, autumn leaves. The memories of your heat, and the giggling into his neck, and the way your fingers would occasionally trace shapes on his chest as you listened to him talkânothing had ever felt so cosmically right.
âUm⊠yeah. I donât know why I agreed. I didnât care about if it was wrong or right. If Mingyu came barging in, or someone else, orâfuck, if the goddamn roof caved inâI didnât care. I just wanted to be with her so fucking bad. We didnât kiss or anything. We just laid there together, like, intertwined, you know? I told her some stuff. We were just talking⊠I think, in my mind, I just wanted to have this moment where I was something to her, more than a friend. And I justâI put this stupid fucking notion in my head that it was true.â
Eyes squeezed shut, blunt poised between his fingers, Wonwoo rode the high of another hit, ignoring the deep, sensitive pain cutting his bone marrow. He kept excavating despite the hurt.
âButâI-I mean, a girl like that?â He laughed, head bending down between his propped knees. âA girl like that, you know? She is soâsh-sheâsâI shouldnât want her at all. I should want nothing to do with her. ButâI donât knowâshe has drive, and things sheâs passionate about, and she can be so unrelenting and fucking bossy, but then so soft, and calm, and I just get drawn into her like a moth to a flame. I think everythingâs okay, you know? I donât get that⊠that dreadâthat feeling like Iâm constantly failing, and useless, and like everything is out to get me.â
Wonwoo hadnât glanced at Vernon once. He didnât want to.
That way, it felt like he was alone, talking to himself, maybe talking to the moon. It erased the veil of pressure and eased his typically constrained, rigid muscles. Feeling his glasses begin to slip, Wonwoo lifted his head, pushing the circled frames back up his nose.
âI donât know why itâs like that. I donât know why itâs her, specifically. Sometimes I wish it wasnât. She has Mingyu to love. And it justâit fucking frustrates me so muchâ" Wonwoo breathed out the irritation, licking his lips, ââbecause weâre having this sweet moment, and itâs so perfect, and right. But then all of a sudden, heâs justâheâshe's letting him fuck her. Like that moment we had was nothing, like I didnât just be the most open Iâve ever been with her. AndâI know, I knowâsheâs high as fuck and not thinking straight. So, what do I chalk us up to, then? A bad trip? A blur in time? A moment you live once and then just forget? What the fuck do I make of that?â
Something crackled inside him, akin to match being lit, palpable enough that it motivated the boy to his feet because this cramped, knees-to-chest position wouldnât suffice in channeling the energy he felt. Wonwoo moved the blunt to his lips, attempting to speak while it hung at the corner of his mouth, though he only left it there for a few seconds in his urgence for another hit. He started pacing.
âThat was such a dogshit moment, you know? Going down there, wanting it to be a lie, almost believing it, but thenâI hear it. I-I hear the way sheâs getting fucked and I hear her moans and her whimpers and I hear the way heâs using her.â Wonwoo kicked a stone off the edge of the building, one hand shoved into his sweats pocket while the other fed him a brief inhalation from the blunt. âIâve never felt that before. Awful. Like, indescribable devastation. I ran to the washroom to throw up because my body just couldnât handle it. It felt like such a kick in the fucking teeth. And I was mad at herâlike, fuck you for throwing back all that trust into my face, you know?â
He shook his head, then balancing at the rim of the complex like a fall from that height wouldnât leave him broken.
âI was so fucking pissed at herâŠâ Wonwoo muttered, staring down at the shadowed streets, âevery time I thought about it, I just felt sick⊠but, obviously, we have to hash it out. Thatâs why she jumped you, or whateverâI wasnât texting her back because I knew nothing good would come from it. Like I said, though⊠sheâs unrelenting. Shows up at my door, banging on it like thereâs a murderer outside. I was in a terrible headspace. I⊠I kind ofâŠâ
The words jammed on his tongue.
Wonwoo had to walk away from the ledge as a foggy sensation muddled his senses. Hands, beginning to tremble, pulled in torment down the back of his black beanie, the blunt caught between his fingers as he remembered the inexcusable maliciousness to his ranting. It echoed through his head like a gong.
He squatted down, rubbing at his wrinkled, aching brow.
âI⊠I basicallyâj-justâI tore her to fucking shreds.â
There was so much emotion clogging his throat. Every word was a struggle to enunciate, and each one burned and stung more tangibly than the last, as though heâd swallowed knives.
âIt didnât even feel good, you know? It wasnât cathartic, or victorious. I felt like⊠do I even deserve anything? She went into the hall and⊠that sob. Oh my god⊠bawling her eyes out because of my stupidity. Because of my inability to be a fucking person as she mentioned.â
Wonwoo stared at the grit covering the roof.
He reached out his hand, letting the small bits of rubble stick to his fingertips, thinking, about everything, how he destroyed it. You were just a panicked river, trying to heal and soothe, but the message was lost under the current. Wonwoo had been a scalding fire, one that charred everything the instant it touched his vengeful heat.
There were only ashes. He didnât know how to rebuild a relationship from something so fragile and ruined at his beckon.
The frustration was boiling in Wonwooâs gut. All his shortcomings, the ignorance to the flaws he buried, how he treated youâit was all bubbling together like some sort of poisonous, infectious brew and if he didnât somehow release pressure then he would crack like ceramics. Wonwoo maneuvered the thick blunt from his fingers into his palm where he crushed it, hard.
âUh, Wonwoo? Itâs⊠itâs okay, man. Youââ
âFuck!â
The tattered piece of crisped tobacco paper and grinded weed flew into the air, the breeze pulling the remnants somewhere unimportant. Vernon immediately smothered his words. He could only stare, frozen, as Wonwoo tore off his glasses, rubbing a sweater sleeve against the beginning pricks of tears that bulbed up from his eyes. He sucked in a long, shuddering, ragged breath.
âI fucking hate this, Vernon. I-Iâm everything she said I was. I do it to myself. I always do it to myself. I want to change so badly but it never feels like itâs happening fast enough, a-an-andâandâandââ
âGlasses, relax, okay?â
Vernon was on his feet in an instant, quickly brushing his hands off against the fabric of his jeans, the blunt now tucked behind his ear. Wonwoo continued rubbing into his eyes. His friendâs face appearing before him was nothing but watery smudging, almost like a ruined oil painting. Wonwoo hiccupped.
âNoâVernonây-you donât understand, youâI-I fucked up, alright? I fucked up so bad! Iââ he could hardly breathe, his glasses dropped somewhere on the roof, ââI just wrecked everything andââ
âWonwoo! Jeon Wonwoo!â Vernon gripped his shoulders and shook them sternly. âShut up! Youâre takinâ all the fuckinâ air!â
The abruptness snapped a wire in Wonwooâs brain. It was so unexpected that he almost wasnât sure if it happened. However, his torrent of seemingly endless anxious thought began to falter, with a very slow but gradual concentration toward the softness rosying his friendâs blurred face. Vernon rubbed against Wonwooâs trembling arm, and with a gentle tug, urged him to sit down.
âCâmon, get on your ass⊠there âya go. Awesome. Now⊠whereâs yourâoh, shitâtheyâre right here. Lucky you, huh?â
Vernon crouched down in front of him.
As Wonwoo busied himself with carving those scratches against his thumb, Vernon extended a hand to his friendâs cheek.
âLet me rid get of these tears⊠so you⊠can actually⊠seeâŠâ
With a grunt, Vernon fell back onto his butt.
âLetâs put these on, yeah? Are you okay with that?â
Vernon seemed to accept the quietness as him not quite being ready, and so the boy settled for resting a tattooed hand on Wonwooâs knee, familiarizing him with a grounding touch. In due time, Wonwoo was relaxed enough to properly swallow.
Vernon smiled at him.
âSo, does Glasses need his glasses now?â
Wonwoo sniffled, imitating a rumbling sound to clear his brittle throat, meanwhile there was a breeze ghosting along his exposed nape. It was just as comforting as Vernonâs touch.
âY-Yes⊠thank you.â
âHey, no problem. Iâm just glad they didnât get crushed.â
When his friendâs calm face clarified in the silver moonlight, with his unjudgmental eyes, and his compassionate smile, Wonwoo began to realize that⊠perhaps, being trusting and vulnerable and honest was not the worst thing in the world. There was merit and relief. There was a friend waiting on the other side with an open hand.
âVernon⊠I, um⊠Iâmââ
âListen, Glasses. If youâre gonna apologize to me, then shove it right back up your ass. Seriously. Thereâs no need.â
âWell, I meanâŠâ Wonwoo wiped his runny nose, âI kind of unloaded on you, and, I didnât intend for that. I really didnât.â
âI asked you a loaded question in the first place, didnât I? I ordered a deep-dish pizza and thatâs what I fuckinâ got.â
âWell⊠I-I⊠Iâm glad you can look at it that way.â
âGod, Wonwoo. Youâre actinâ like this was a total blindside. I know you, yâknow? Maybe not to a tee, but I know you.â Vernon kept his hand against Wonwooâs knee, dusting some grit from it. âAnd I know youâre gonna feel regretful about all this, but you shouldnât, alright? âCause, lookâyou did somethinâ that most peopleâthey go their entire lives without doinâ. You dug deep and acknowledged your flaws. And not just the pansy shit, likeâoh, Iâm bad at time management, I forget to put the dishes away, I donât fill up the ice cube tray, I never reply to textsâI mean the real stuff.
The really dark, uncomfortable stuff that we know is there but itâs so much easier to ignore. The stuff that gets in the way of our happiness, or success, or connectionsâbeinâ the sin-sincerest versions of ourselvesâitâs so much easier to pack all that bad stuff down. Itâs there but at least itâs not out here. But then, like, maybe one day it is out here. And itâs hurtinâ everything around you. And some people will still let it slide because thereâs always somethinâ else to blame. What is that bullshitâacceptance is always the hardest part? I donât fuckinâ know. Anyway, you should give yourself some credit, Glasses. Seriously. Iâm proud.â
âProud?â Wonwoo chuckled weakly, returning the warmth of his friendâs honeyed eyes. âThat's such a mom thing to say.â
Vernonâs hand shifted to whacking Wonwooâs arm. âDon't get smart.â
âNo, uhâIâm joking. Thank you, Vernon⊠really.â
âHey, I know Iâm your drug dealer, but I consider us friends, yâknow? And not every friendâs gotta be your support beam. But I think youâre someone worth supportinâ⊠heyâthat sounded pretty smart and eloquent, right? Iâm basically you, now.â
Wonwoo smiled. âYou're missing the glasses.â
âIâll just take yours,â Vernon chided, giving his friendâs chest a light push, âwhatâre you gonna do, anyway? Four-eyes.â
âI think if you wore these for more than five minutes⊠youâd get a migraine,â Wonwoo supposed, watching Vernon nod his head.
âDamn. Youâre probably right. Not worth it.â
âMmhmâŠâ
â⊠But, um⊠yâknow what I do think is worth it?â
Wonwoo raised his eyebrow.
Vernon paused, as though to contemplate his response, but when the words left his mouth, there was pure firmness behind them.
âMan, you need to talk to Her.â
Pressing his lips together, Wonwoo stared off into the corner.
Vernon nudged his arm, attempting to engage him.
âIâm serious! You know sheâs perfect for you, right? A bossy girl whoâs about her shit but can soften up for you is exactly what you need. Girls like thatâthey care so fuckinâ much, yâknow? And sheâs majorly into you. I saw how she hugged you at the party. How she got all smiley and sweet. I mean, she was gonna punch Bells in the fuckinâ face to stop her from makinâ a move on you. Sheâs got a man, I know. And Iâm not sayinâ be a fuckinâ homewrecker. But, like, I donât know⊠Mingyuâs all image and no substance. A fuckinâ airhead.â
Wonwoo massaged along his forehead, chuckling.
âI thought you liked him.â
âYeah, well, I liked him a lot more when he was handinâ me two-hundred âa Seungcheolâs bands. I know he just invited me to that party âcause I can get him nâ his rich friends high. Iâm not stupid. Keep your enemies close, and your friendsâwait, fuckâkeep yourââ
âFriends close and enemies closer?â
Vernon grinned, wide and gummy. âBingo.â
âGood advice.â
âYouâre insane if you donât do it.â
âIf I donât talk to Her?â
âYes! Donât let her go! Are you crazy, Glasses?!â
âWhat am I supposed to say? I-I was such a cunt.â
âI donât fuckinâ know, manâoffer to lick hers. Bet sheâll forgive you right there on the spot. Damn. Thatâs how Iâd do it.â
âNo, you wouldnât. Idiot.â
âEh, whatever. Youâll figure it out. I know you will.â
Wonwoo exhaled a large, solacing breath, glancing toward the moonlight that beautifully shimmered down in its pearlescent webs, bathing the rooftop akin to the blue mirages at the nature museum.
Vernon was right.
He couldnât let this be the end of your story.
âEND OF PART FOUR.
#seventeen scenarios#wonwoo scenarios#seventeen imagines#seventeen x reader#wonwoo x reader#svt fanfic#wonwoo fanfic#jeon wonwoo#svt scenarios#seventeen angst#seventeen fanfic#seventeen fluff#seventeen smut
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casual [iii]
"i hate that i let this drag on so long, now i hate myself, hate that i let this drag on so long, you can go to hell"
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pairing: natalie scatorccio x reader
summary: you're not just going to let her go, this time. after long enough, you arrive at the very obvious conclusion that you're in love, and there's very little else to be done about that
warnings: mentions of sex, cuss words, a bit of angst but i promise a happy ending :)
word count: 7.2k
A/N: all good things must come to an end. trust, i'll write for nat again. also i stayed in that airport so fucking long it was like purgatory, and i'm so sorry it took longer than i thought, i've had an exhausting past two weeks and just needed to stop and breathe for a minute
HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO THAT ONE ANON I FEEL BAD I'M LATE
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"Please tell me you didn't do it on my sheets," Lottie groaned, lip curled in disgust and eyes hidden by her sunglasses.
"Sorry," you said back from behind your own pair, without looking away from the crystal blue of her pool water. You both were splayed out on her sun-bleached deck chairs, with matching hangovers (and bathrobes) that made the bright, beaming sunlight a whole new level of awful.
Her house was in disarray around you both, with crushed beer cans and overturned chairs all across the pool deck. Some cigarette butts floated in the water and you were certain the sprinklers in her garden were misting a pile of vomit and washing it down the front of her lawn, but neither of you made a move to get up and deal with it yet.
At the far end of the Matthews' pool, there was a statue of a mermaid that doubled as a fountain, spitting water in a gentle stream. Someone had put a snapback that said 'I <3 BOOBIES' on her and a bit of lipstick around the area that water shot out, and though usually you would have laughed, you instead were a bit annoyed by how it was taking you out of what would've been a nice scene.
There was just something about waking up and seeing Nat had gone without any sort of indication, that sparked the sudden urge within you to reconnect with nature. So you were reconnectingâ more like broodingâ on Lottie's pool deck in a peaceful silence.
After what felt like thirty minutes but was probably more like five, she turned to you. "Do you wannaââ
ââTalk about it?â you finished, raising your eyebrows. You shook your head. âNo.â
She pouted. âI was gonna ask if you wanted to make pancakes.â
âOh⊠then yes.â
You both lazily trudged into her equally wrecked kitchen, with even more cans and spilled liquids thrown over her marble counters. There was a burnt bag of popcorn sitting in the sink and the garbage can underneath it was overflowing with paper towels, but Lottie's kitchen was big enough where you could ignore it entirely, jumping up to sit on the clean countertop near her massive range cooker.
When Lottie said 'make pancakes,' she really meant she would be the one cooking and you would be there for moral support, if anything. You were gifted in many things but cooking or anything of the sort had never been one of them. Instead you leaned your head against the massive stone hood, and watched her from the pair of sunglasses you still wore.
Nat had laughed at you, when you said you didn't know how to cook. Not an omelette, not mac and cheese, and barely a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Of course, you assumed the last one wouldn't be hard to figure out, but you hadn't ever made one before, and it made her laugh into your chest, where her head had been resting. It hurt a bit now, but you had the sunglasses to shield your eyes while you stared off into space.
"Chocolate chips?" Lottie asked, running a hand through her dark hair and combing out a few knots with her fingers. You nodded, and she turned back to the pan in front of her, grabbing a fancy looking bag from a stack of supplies nearby. "My dad brought fresh chocolate back with him from when he was in the Caribbean a few weeks ago," she said to you, sprinkling it into the pan and flipping it over.
"Is he going to be pissed you're using it for pancakes?" you mumbled, feeling your headache return.
"No more pissed than he'll be when he sees that Jeff and his friends cut off the leg on one of his horse-shaped hedges." You winced, hopping down from the counter and feeling your back still scraped raw from, well, Nat. Lottie shot you a look. "That heated, huh?"
You rolled your eyes, heading towards the kitchen island and grabbing some of the beer cans to toss in the rubbish. "She's made her decision clear. I'm honestly done with it. I don't care anymore."
Lottie didn't say anything, turning back to the pancakes and sliding them on a plate as you slid into the barstool at the other end of her island and rested your head on your elbows. "I mean, she called me selfish, Lottie, and then said she loved me multiple times, minutes later. Who the hell does that?"
"Mhm," she hummed, sticking her spatula and the pan in the sink and then moving to the walk in pantry to grab syrup and powdered sugar.
You watched her go, calling after her. "She disappears for days after she gets mad about me talking to people, and then I see her immediately with Bobby Farleigh of all people, and they're cuddling up! I'm done with it all."
"Okay," Lottie said, reappearing with her arms full and tossing them down on the kitchen island. She clambered up into the seat next to you and stole some of the plain ones for herself, before covering them in syrup.
"And," you continued, remembering something else as you began cutting up the pancakes and smothering them in powdered sugar, "she egged my fucking house! How could I even forget about that? I mean, what was I thinking? I don't want to talk about her."
"Oh yeah," Lottie snorted. "You really don't want to talk about her."
You shot her a glare, stuffing your mouth with an angry fork. "I'm serious, Lottie."
"You wish," she scoffed. "If you were seriousâ and I'm not trying to be meanâ but if you were serious, you wouldn't be ranting all about her. I know you keep saying it's impossible and it can't happen with her, but you sure as hell seem like you want it to happen with her."
You frowned, taking a forkful and stuffing it into your mouth. Right as you did, a couple sheepishly walked down the hall and towards the front door, clothes obviously messed up. They sent you an awkward wave and Lottie gave a quick nod in their direction, turning back to her plate. "Then why'd she leave?" you asked, when the door was shut behind them.
She shrugged. "Why the hell would I know? If anyone here would be the Natalie-whisperer, it would be you."
"Yeah well, apparently not," you huffed, shoving more pancakes into your mouth.
"I mean, it's not like you guys were on glowing terms before you... y'know. Wasn't gonna magically all be fixed, after." You groaned, leaning your forehead down onto the cool marble countertops. It actually felt nice, against your raging headache, but you still felt like crap.
"Would've at least been nice for her to wait until I woke up to go. No 'goodbye,' no 'we should talk,' nothing. When we were just hooking up and stuff, I at least always waited to say goodbye."
"So it's not just hooking up, anymore?"
"I donât know what it is, Lottie. You tell me, because apparently everyone knows but me." She shrugged, finishing her plate and pushing it away from herself.
"I have an answer, but you're not gonna like it."
"...No, I'm not in love with her."
"You absolutely are."
"I'm done with this!"
"You keep saying that."
"'Cause I am."
"Okay."
"I'm done," you frowned, attempting finality in your tone and coming far short.
"Right," she snorted, and then she stood to grab your now-finished plate too. "Can you help me?â
It took around three hours, to get the Matthews house back to its usual formality. You sprayed burnt and disturbed bushes with the hose, threw out bag upon bag of party rubbish, and vacuumed cigarette butts off the carpet of her living room, silently working while Lottie played some records on her grandfather's old gramophone.
Her dad usually put jazz records on it or snooty classical music, whenever you were over, but Lottie had Dancing Queen blasting throughout her house and was hopping around as she snatched stuff off the mantle and shoved it into bags, turning to you and yelling a lyric from time to time, along to the music.
This wasn't your idea of fun by a long shot, but you could appreciate Lottie trying to make it fun.
"So, how much convincing did you have to do, to get Laura Lee here at a party? I mean, with the alcohol," you asked with a snort, grabbing an almost empty bag of crisps and tossing yourself down in her father's leather armchair to finish them off.
Lottie flushed. "A really embarrassing amount," she admitted. "I kind of glazed over that part."
"I'll bet she was surprised?" you asked with an amused crunch.
"It wasn't even thatâ this guy from my third period started going at it with this girl right in front her. I had to literally stop her from going over there to talk to them about waiting until marriage."
You shrugged. "I mean, she seems to like you a whole lot."
"She does," Lottie nodded. "She's so sweet to me, and she has the best hand to hold, like, ever."
"Honestly, I'm surprised, but happy for you. You're in a big ol' throuple with Jesus Christ."
"Ha ha," Lottie rolled her eyes, sticking her tongue out at you. "At least whatever we have is holy. I don't even want to think about you andâ"
But whatever dig she would've said was cut off by her doorbell ringing. You sighed, letting your feet down from where you had propped them up on the side table and wiping the crumbs on your bathrobe.
"I'll get it," you grumbled, leaving Lottie to clean. When you opened the door there was absolutely no way you could've prepared to see her so soon.
Nat stood awkwardly in the entryway, looking just as surprised to see you as you were to see her. She wore a pair of blue shorts she practiced and slept in, and staring right back at you was the shirt you thought had gone missing weeks ago, barely hidden behind the ratty zip up hoodie she had over it.
Her eyeliner was still smudged from the night before in places, and you stared at her blankly, waiting for her to say somethingâ anything, really.
"I forgot my damn lighter," she said, casting her eyes to the floor after a moment.
"Oh," you replied, feeling a bit stupid suddenly, in your bathrobe and sunglasses, with your flip flops for shoes. You looked like you were mid-spa day, or like someone's drunk uncle on a cruise. Then, before you could stop yourself, you felt an annoyance twinge in your gut, and said "Is that all you've got to say?"
Her eyes shot up, looking challengingly at you, in what was a clear frustration. "What do you want me to say?" But the answer went unsaid, even as much as you didn't like it. That you came back for me.
"I don't know..."
"Great," Nat scoffed. She looked over your shoulder into Lottie's house, as if her lighter would appear behind you and jump right into her hand, and she would just be able to leave. "Can I just have myâ"
"âWhy did you egg my house?" you shot back, crossing your arms over your chest, trying to block the door a bit more. She raised her eyebrows at you, confused.
"What?"
"You egged my house, after our argument," you repeated, slower, feeling the tips of your ears burning.
"No the hell I didn't."
"Yes the hell you did," you argued back, leaning forward with your hands on your hips. "You're the only one with the gate code. I get it, you were mad, butâ"
"âFucking Christ, I didn't!"
"You wrote a giant 'fuck you' on my house. No one else would."
Nat glared. "I didn't invent it. Is it such an impossible thing for you to consider that maybe not everyone is Team (Y/n)? I don't mean to break your brain, but for once somebody might actually dislike you."
You rolled your eyes. "You're the only one with a history of breaking rules and doing shit."
"So, what, you think I would do that to you?"
"Maybe you would. Maybe you don't care about me at all. That's why you ran off, wasn't it?"
She narrowed her eyes at you. "I had to go, before my dad caught me out."
You shook your head. "Bullshit. You've stayed out, before."
"Oh, so now you're mad that I'm not cuddling up to you?"
"That's not cuddling, that's having me stick my fingers in you and then you run off. You were pissed at me a few days before, Nat, for literally the same thing."
"It's almost like it's confusing, (Y/n), when you get mixed signals. And no, I got pissed at you because you went shopping for girlfriendsâ which, I'm assuming because you're being an oblivious, self-righteous asshole, you're still doing."
"Yep, still looking," you glared at her. She glared right back, just as steely.
"Great."
"Great," you replied. It was annoying, how good she looked when she was frustrated. She was great at looking mad, and even better at looking good when she was mad. The furrowing of her eyebrows, wrinkling of her nose in anger; she had the face you wanted to kiss away. It was impossible not to wonder, if doing so would uncurl her fists and smooth out the lines on her forehead.
Then you stopped. Holy shit. Everything seemed awful, like a massive case of vertigo had just washed over you. You had had hangovers before, but this somehow seemed infinitely worse. See, a thought had finally self-realised itself within your little peanut brain.
I'm in love with Nat.
It made the ceiling feel like the floor, and Nat sent you a concerned glance and seemed about to question your change in expression, when Lottie came from behind you.
"Hey, Nat," she said with an awkward smile, brushing past you with a look and then handing her the lighter quickly. "Excited for nationals?â
"Yeah," Nat nodded, but her eyes were still glaring at you. She cleared her throat, finally looking off. "Thanks, Lot. Great party."
"Mhm," Lottie nodded, trying her best to seem at ease and not at all like she was walking in on a code-red situation. "Have a great weekend! Bye now! Get home safe! See you!" She rushed, tugging you from beyond the doorway and giving a wave, before shutting the door.
The moment the door was closed, she gave you an unappreciative stare, but your eyes were wide and your cheeks flushed.
"What?" asked Lottie, her eyebrows furrowed with concern.
"I...I think I'm in love with her."
===+++===
Your home was just as empty as it was when you had left the night before. Reginald wasn't even due to come in, since your mother and father weren't home and it was a Saturday. Even the groundskeeper and maid had the day off, and the groan you let out at finally returning home and falling onto the warm rug on your living room floor echoed against the walls of your empty house.
In your hand was the letter you found in your mailbox. A cool black and Princeton-orange colour. You already knew what it said, without even looking into it. Your father and mother went there. His father and mother, too. For years and years and years. And now, if you followed the rules set out in front of you, you too.
It was impossible not to wonder, when the fog of privilege would slowly cloud your brain. Would it be the law degree from a private school, or legacy admissions? The more frightening thing was that maybe Nat was right: it had already set in, and you unaware. You at least felt different than the rest of them. That made you different, right? You and Lottie?
The image of Nat seemed ever-prevalent. Glowering at you, like she had been in the doorway. In your shirt. With that frown. The frown that you wanted to kiss away, but would never be able to. A Scatorccio, of all people. Of all people, you had to be in love with the one person you couldn't have.
It felt simultaneously like life had resolved into something more clear and understandable, and something more depressing and doomed. You wanted to forget the realisation, and the acceptance as well. Maybe it was truly better when you were promising your friends that you felt nothing of the sort.
Your eyes flitted from where they stared at the ceiling over to the giant brown bookcase in the corner, stacked high with thick volumes of what your dad had once said were family records, but you had never grabbed one off yourself. The one that stuck out against the brown leather-bound books was a more sleek, grey memoir with your grandfatherâs name printed onto the hard cover casing.
That one you had readâ your father had made you read it, when you were fourteen, and your parents gave up on trying for another kid. It wasnât as dreadfully boring as you thought it would be, but it was still a memoir about a stuffy stockbroker from the 80s, with all the parts involving cocaine conveniently edited out, but not your grandfatherâs insane escapades with women.
Your father was in the process of writing his own edition, and had thereby implied that he expected you to write one for yourself. You didn't know what you could possibly write about, but then again there was the expectation you write about it anyway. You weren't a guy on Wall Street, you weren't an international businessperson. You didn't even know what you were going to school for, yet.
Next to the bookshelf in equal intimidation was a painting of your family that your father had commissioned years ago. It was back when you still had braces and acne, but thankfully the artist had removed both. You hadn't been allowed to smile for it, though that's what child-you thought you did for pictures. Instead, you and your parents' mouths were drawn into disapproving lines and hardened expressions, and the golden plaque at the bottom wore your surname in proud, powerful letters.
You sighed, sitting up onto the palms of your hands and then standing slowly, still a bit uncoordinated. You sent the painting a final glance before you wandered to the phone, grabbing the thing and checking your watch while you did it. You slumped down into the seat at the end of your dining room table, where your father usually sat, and pulled the antenna from the top, punching in the numbers absentmindedly as you stared out the window onto the garden and the pool.
The number was for your father's Monaco residence, and you waited with a jumping knee and wry expression while it rang. Eventually, though, your mother picked up. "Hello?"
"Hello, mother."
(Y/n), darling, is something wrong? You know to call Reginald first, in case of emerâ"
"âNo, nothing is wrong, mother. Look, I actually wanted to ask you a question."
"Well, go on then. We're about to go out to dinner."
"...Mother, do you have Julie Roosevelt's number?"
Silence on the end of the line. "Absolutely!" You didn't need to be there with her to hear the smile in her voice. "What for?"
You swallowed. "I think I'll try to take her out tonight."
"Well! Darling, that's just wonderful!" You nodded into the receiver, not like she could see it. "Make sure to wear your nice shirt, we don't want to upset the Roosevelts! I hope you know, I'm proud of you for this, really." You almost mentioned getting accepted into Princeton. Almost. But you decided not to mention it. It wasn't like you wanted to think about it anyways.
From the far wall, you could see the painting of the woman with the blue eyes staring at you.
===+++===
The local mini golf was always busy, but Saturdays were absolutely the busiest. There were couples upon couples who had the exact same idea, and were wandering around with their hands together and beaming at one another like they were living in a rom-com in the real life.
And yet you stood there with your hand in Julie Roosevelt's, and a massive frown on your face. It wasn't one that you'd let Julie seeâ every time she glanced in your direction, you'd quickly replace it with your best smile, showing her your teethâ but it was one that you knew you wore when she turned away.
"Sorry about the late notice," you said. You dropped her hand and went to grab a putter from the front, handing it to her and then grabbing one for yourself.
"It's okay, I was wondering if you were ever going to talk to me again," Julie laughed, a bit awkward. You winced. It's not like you could be honest, and say that you didn't intend to. The truth was, that while Julie was a bit shallow, she was also a bit too nice to deserve this one-sided thing.
Of course, there was the hope that you grew the love your mother spoke of. Maybe it would hit you, and alleviate you from Nat, who seemed to haunt your thoughts even more now, that you were aware she had captured your heart.
"I was just busy, this past week," you shrugged. "It's kind of a big deal for the Yellowjackets, and both of the teams are practicing and stuff...so."
"Wow. I guess you really like the Yellowjackets then, huh?"
"Uh...something like that, yeah. It's a big deal." She hummed, then took her things out onto the first green.
You let her go, standing behind her and watching with a grin and the scorecard in your pocket. Mini golf was something you took pride in being good at. But, then, of course, Julie let the ball drop, took a second, and gently hit the ball around the bend with a near perfect curve, and right into the hole.
"Yay!" she cheered, jumping up and down in celebration.
"Whaâ"
Julie put her hands on her hips with a teasing grin. "Captain of the golf team, remember?" You hadn't.
"Right..."
You played a terrible game, for the most part. You stood at the end of the second-to-last hole with the scorecard in your hand and a whole bunch of big numbers on your side of the table. Julie was beaming from ear to ear, though you weren't exactly sure why.
It had been pretty much silent, with the two of you failing over and over again to find an interesting thing to talk about. It wasn't the calm, pleasant silence like it was with... well, it didn't matter now. You filled in a four, two shots over the par, and made your way over to where Julie was crouching down, to get a better view of the final hole.
"Actually wait, there's a special way you have to play this one," you called out to her, and she turned to you with a puzzled expression.
"What do you mean?"
"It's kind of local tradition here," you shrugged. You weren't even sure if that was true, you just knew that it was what Nat had called it, when she taught you. "You have to swing really, really hard, and to win, you've gotta get it over the fence," you pointed, "and right into the back of that neighbourhood."
She blinked at you for a moment, and then Julie frowned, looking down to the ground. "That's mean, though. What if you hit someone's house? Or a window?"
"Bonus points," you shrugged. "I don't know, you can't really see where they go, once they're over the fence. It's fun."
Julie raised her eyebrows. "Don't you think it's a little immature? Why would I do that if I'm going to win for real?"
You opened your mouth to reply, then firmly closed it. "I guess you're right," you mumbled. It hadn't felt stupid when you suggested it, but Julie's disdain at the suggestion made you feel improper.
She did win, by a massive landslide, and you let her keep the scorecard with little protest. She was still beaming though, brightly at you like she had just had the best date of her life. Your stomach felt like it was tied up in a bunch of knots, but you smiled back at her nonetheless.
If love was something to be worked towards, you really hoped it would start working soon.
===+++===
You had only been home for about twenty minutes, when your phone started ringing. Off the hook. Over and over again. You knew who it was just from the ring, but that didn't mean you wanted to pick up.
After the disaster that was dropping Julie off at her house, you wanted to continue to staring at the ceiling. But after the sixth call back, it seemed Jackie wasn't giving up.
You picked the phone up with a frown, rolling over and smushing your chin into the bed. "Helloâ"
"âOH MY GOD, YOU AND JULIE?!"
You groaned. "Jackie I dropped her off like thirty minutes ago, how do you already know about this?"
"So it's true?! You're dating?"
You sat up. "What? No, we just went on one date."
"Really? Cause Julie told Margie who told Randy who told Jeff, who told me that you kissed her and you're going out!"
You pinched the bridge of your nose. "I didn't kiss her, she kissed me. And it wasn't even like an actual kiss, she like, pecked me, and then scrambled out of my car and up her driveway."
"Well, she's saying you're going steady."
"'Going steady?' The 40s called, they wanted their slang back."
"Ha ha," Jackie said back, and you could hear the eye roll. She went silent. "...I bet your mom is happy."
"Probably..."
"Are you happy? You're probably a shoe-in for prom court, especially since I'll be out of town. Your mom won't let you go to nationals, will she?"
"No. She'll want me and Julie to go to prom together."
"Well, I mean, at least you'll win, right? That's gotta be exciting?"
You looked over to your nightstand, where you had a polaroid of you and Nat that sat taped to the side. "Thrilled."
"(Y/n)? You okay, hubby?"
You took a sharp swallow. "Yeah, I'm fine. Julie's great."
"Right...," she paused again, "does Nat...does she know?"
"I don't think so... It's only been like, thirty minutes."
"She will soon, though. Monday."
"Yeah...I guess she will soon."
===+++===
Monday was terrible. It seemed Julie had taken the awkward attempt at kissing you as the sign that you were together. She was there at your car when you first arrived, grinning again while you and Lottie got your things for school out of the second row. Then, the moment you had locked your car, you were tugged along by a hand grabbing yours.
You didn't exactly have a good reason to be grossed out. Julie was beautiful, and if you had felt the same way for her, you would have been thrilled with the enthusiasm. Hell, if it were... well. So, you mostly let her drag you wherever she wanted.
There was about a week, to run for prom court. Your mother had promptly called you that morning to insist on prom, and insist on shopping for prom, when she returned home on Wednesday, from Monaco. It was all Julie would talk about, and you were starting to wonder how much of this was a political move for her too, rather than one of genuine interest in you.
You first saw Nat coming down one of the halls, and you hesitated a bit the moment you saw that she noticed you. Or, that she noticed you and Julie together. It was the walk of shame, frankly. You didn't belong to her, in any formal sense. But your heart did, and that was enough for it to hurt. Badly.
It seemed to hurt her too. She immediately frowned, tugging on Kevyn's sleeve and walking in the opposite direction. You wanted to run after her, but Julie had an iron grip on your hand and a smile so bright.
It was awkward enough at lunch, with Julie insisting to sit next to you and to bring her golf friends. A few of them were nice, and Jackie managed to chat them up well enough to make even more friends than before, but Lottie had a frown the entire time, and Shauna looked less than happy.
Nat wasn't staring at you at lunch anymore. It was a startling realisation, that you wanted her to be looking at you. If anything, you were looking more at her. You kept turning around, trying to seem like you were just scanning the cafeteria, but Nat was firmly looking down at her food, at the same table as always.
You felt like a runaway dog that had temporarily shrugged off its collar, trying to find home with a tail between its legs. Julie was nice, and smart, and talented. But she wasn't the one. Your one.
===+++===
"Hey, you ready?" you asked Lottie, finding her out in the hallway in front of the locker rooms. it was Friday, and you both had your soccer bags slung over your shoulder, and were about to head out to practice, but Lottie seemed transfixed on a poster on the wall. "Hey now, you've got nationals tomorrow, no distractions," you tried.
"Is she seriously trying to make it seem like you two are soulmates?" Lottie said with a grimace. It was one of the ones Julie had made in two days, and was now putting all over the school to really earn you both the win. There was a drawing of you and her on it, with a heart in the middle, and 'VOTE JULIE & (Y/N) FOR PROM COURT 1996.' It was an objectively good design, but Lottie didn't like Julie very muchâ or at least had started to hate her, the longer you and her were together.
"I think it's because she has a crush on you," Julie said once with a pout, after Lottie had been less than welcoming to her on a ride home.
"No she doesn't," you shook your head.
"She definitely does. You shouldn't hang out with her as much, or people will think you and her are a thing. I mean, I did at first."
The whole conversation had only made Lottie more and more annoyed with her, and that was saying a lot, with how Lottie was usually nice to most people.
"Come on," you said, gesturing with your head out towards the pitch. "Last practice before nationals."
Lottie still had a frown on her face, but she followed you out there with her arms crossed. It was still relatively early, only a few people were out. Coach Martinez's son Travis was up in the bleachers, watching, while you could see Trevor and Misty talking next to the water cooler and Jeremy and Mari passing a ball back and forth to each other.
"Hey (Y/n)," a voice called from behind you, and you could feel a similar annoyance to Lottie's washing over you. You turned to see Carter Avery, back from his suspension, with a cheeky smirk on his face. "Miss me?"
"Not even close," you scowled. He brushed past you and Lottie, pausing for a moment when he was directly in front of you staring down in an attempt at intimidation. He kept walking though, until he paused, right at the edge of the pitch.
"Oh, and (Y/n)?"
"What."
"I think I need to borrow some eggs. You got any for me?" Your eyes widened. "What about toilet paper, then?"
It was intended to create anger in you. You knew he wanted you to charge at him or something, or to scowl, but all you did was stand there, in a stunned silence. You had thought that Nat would do that. That Nat could do that to you. Of course it wasn't Nat. You felt stupid and you felt guilty, and you felt even worse that you couldn't do much about either of those things. You could try, though. And maybe that would be enough.
Lottie sent you a knowing look, but all you wanted to do was curl up into a ball and die. Maybe you could try to talk to her, after practice? It was a long shot, but it was worth a try.
The Yellowjackets' moods were infectious, and it was impossible to not have a great time, at that practice. Their emotions were high, along with their excitement, and you started to feel a little bit better, the more you ran and the more you felt the wind in your hair.
Of course, that's when everything decided to go wrong. A single slide tackle from Taissa, right into Allie's leg, and everyone was panicking and yelling. You could see the bone sticking out from it, and Misty was bolting in your direction, hovering over her and attempting to right it.
"Can I get two people to carry her?" She shouted at both teams, and you immediately raised your hand, stepping forwards while Allie began to cry. You didn't even see who was grabbing her other arm until you had made it into the locker room, and Allie was still crying with Misty following behind and a very clueless looking Coach Ben behind her.
You should've known, it was her. She was selfless like that, even though she'd rather die than admit it herself. And yet, there Nat was, on the other side of Allie, laying her down on one of the locker room benches and raising her leg up. Misty ushered you both out into the hall, and suddenly both you and Nat were regretting volunteering.
You had to wait until she came out, so you would be able to carry her to the front, where the ambulance could arrive to take her to hospital, but until then it just meant you and Nat were forced to stand there in awkward silence.
It stayed that way, until you tried to speak. "So...nationals, huâ"
"Don't even," Nat snapped, shutting you up. She was twitching a little bit, in discomfort, and you knew right now that if it were outside, or if she were to have her bag, she would be pulling out a cigarette.
"...I know it wasn't you who egged my house. It was Carter... I'm...sorry."
"Real genius, aren't you."
"Allegedly. Not in practice, apparently," you admitted, sliding to the tiled floor in wait. She eyed you cautiously, but did the same, sliding down.
"Man, if I had a nickel, for every time we've been in this hallway with a serious injury... I'd have, what, two nickels?" You hummed, leaning your head back against the wall.
"That's not a lot," Nat said, rolling her eyes.
"No," you nodded in agreement, "but it's weird that it happened twice."
She thought for a minute, then shrugged. "I guess." You both could hear the whistle being blown outside, to end the final scrimmage and indicate that it was time to circle up.
"Don't you want to go hear that? Y'know, for tomorrow?"
Nat shook her head. "I'd rather be here for Allie. Though she's kind of an asshole."
You snorted. "She's a total fucking bitch."
"...Just so you know, I really did have to leave, after Lottie's party... I, uh, kissed your forehead, before I left... I guess you couldn't feel it though. You were asleep."
You shook your head. "I didn't know that..."
"...Yeah... my dad was being an asshole... it was a whole thing." You knew it hurt more than she was saying, right now, and you so desperately wanted to scoot closer, like you would've before things had gotten so messed up. Back when you were on the cusp of happiness.
"I'm sorry, Nat."
She shrugged again, like it didn't hurt, but you knew all too well. "For what?"
You would've said for being scared. For being weak. For not realising sooner. Anything. But instead you were interrupted by the sound of shoes on the tile.
Of course, there Julie had to be. She took a single look at Nat who was covered in sweat and a bit red from practice, and grimaced, before coming up to you and standing right over you, expectantly.
"Is practice over?" she asked, checking her watch. "I finished my club meeting. We have to go dress shoppingâ I want you there to colour matchâ and I need you to drop Margie off at her house, cause I said you would yesterday."
You blinked. "I mean... It kind of is? I should probably stay a bitâ" you looked to Nat to see what she would say, but she was already standing up and walking off, taking the not so secret hint that Julie was telling her to get lost.
Julie watched her go, scowling behind her back and then spinning to you the moment the door clicked shut behind her. "What did she want with you?" she asked.
"We were just talking, Allie needed help."
"Well she's no good. She's one of those kids, y'know." You narrowed your eyes, getting up to your feet and wiping your hands on your shorts.
"What are you talking about?"
Julie tilted her head to the side, like she was confused by your confusion. "You must not have a lot of them, around here, but we had them all OVER, in Massachusetts. The town bicycles. Everyone wants a ride, if you know what I mean."
It was your turn to cross your arms. "No the hell I do not, Julie."
"Oh come on," she said, throwing up her hands. "She's trailer trash, at best. The delusional kind who thinks we'd look at her, like, ever. I mean, what's her body count, like over a hundred?"
"You don't know what the fuck you're talking about," you snapped at her, glowering.
"Okay, I know she's on the Yellowjackets, and she's clearly trying to get in your pants, but cmon. I'm your girlfriend, we can laugh about this kind ofâ"
"No, the hell you aren't. You're not my girlfriend, Julie, and you barely ever fucking were. That girl you just insulted is the best fucking person I know. She's selfless, she's kind, she makes me laughâ"
"Well then go sleep with her then!" Julie yelled, stomping her foot.
"Y'know what, I already have! And I fucking love her. So there!" And you turned right around and stomped back out onto the pitch.
===+++===
âIâm coming, Iâm coming,â you rolled your eyes, trudging down the stairs and calling out into the foyer. It wasnât like whoever it was would actually be able to hear you, through the thickness of your door, if anything it was more to air your grievance with having to get up so fucking late. Your mom was once more distraught, now that you had kept the "perfect" girl for a single week and then promptly dumped her. Another vacation was in order.
Rain was still pounding on the roof from above, and it filled the emptiness of your house with a faint white noise, that was immediately shattered by the person pressing the button again. You rolled your eyes, deciding to walk even slower to the door out of nothing but spite.
When you actually opened the door, though, you had to blink a couple times, seeing a figure retreating already, down your drive. However long you had took had made them rethink why they were here, and you would've been all too happy to let the door close. That was, until you narrowed your eyes into the rain, just barely making out the shape of a familiar leather jacket.
"Nat?" You called into the storm, loud enough that there was no way she couldn't have heard you. You crossed your arms, thinking about how she had been earlier that day. "I know it's you, Natalie. Why the fuck are you here? You have nationals tomorrow."
She stopped in her tracks, just standing in it. She gently turned, shoulders rising and falling and it was clear she was breathing heavily. Her mascara was running in massive streaks down her face and dripping in small, grey droplets, and her eyes were sensitive and red, as if she had been crying and rubbed them raw. You swallowed what felt like a lump in your throat.
"Thisâ all of this, with youâ Iâ I can't," she stumbled, looking like a sad, wet dog in the rain.
"What?" you furrowed your eyebrows at her, walking out further onto your large, covered doorstep.
"I can't see you with her, (Y/n), Iâ I just can't."
"With Julie?"
Natalie threw up her arms in frustration. "Yes, Julie. I know she's perfect, or whatever, butâ Iâ you can't be with herâ"
"âNat," you tried, stepping forward again.
"âBecause I love you," she continued. You stopped in your tracks. It felt as if the air had been sucked right out of your lungs, even in the freshness brought by the storm. "I know we argue," her voice shook, "and I know we fight, and I know I smoke, and I curse, and I get bad grades, and my dad's a shithead, and I'm kind of an asshole sometimesâ but I fucking love you, (Y/n). You.... Iâ"
"âShut up," you said, shaking your head and rushing forward, out into the pouring storm. You collided with her, cupping her face in your cheeks and kissing her like the world would end in ten minutes. It would have, if you hadn't done it, and you had no idea how you had survived so long without doing it.
You kissed her once, and then you kissed her again, and then, when she was crying harder, and you were crying too, and she was holding onto your arms like you would fall away, you kissed her forehead, and held her tight in a hug.
"I'm selfish, and I'm a mess, and I'm never good enough for my stupid fucking parents," you said, over the rain and just for Nat, "and I don't realise that I hurt people 'cause that's not what my family does, and for that, I'm really, really fucking sorry."
She nodded in her tears, looking up at you as you both got rained on together. "But, I agree," you said, voice shaking, "we're not casual. I'm really, really fucking sorry, but I also really, really fucking love you, Nat. And I'm sorry I was too scared and too stupid, and," you raised your voice, as if to the sky, "I DON'T WANT TO FUCKING GO TO PRINCETONâ" this time it was Nat who shut you up.
It was another kiss, but it was far more gentle than the first. It was a gentle press, and it took your breath away. When you pulled apart, you let your forehead fall against Natalie's. Even though the droplets were cold, you felt so warm.
After what felt like forever, but still wasn't long enough, Nat murmured to you, "should we go inside?" She still smelled like cigarettes and her perfume, just as she had in her trailer, and you intended to let the scent linger.
You shook your head. "Just stay out here a little longer with me. Please? Just let time pass."
She nodded, then smirked as she looked past you at the car on your driveway. "Fuckin' rich people."
===+++===
AAAAAND THAT'S CASUAL BABYYYYY! Finished at like 2 am. anyways, i'm tired and a little bit sleepy
#nat scatorccio x you#nat scatorccio x reader#natalie scatorccio#natalie scatorccio x y/n#natalie scatorccio x reader#nat scatorccio#yellowjackets
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 yandere!husband who loves you so much that all he has ever wanted is to make you his wife and have you by his side forever.Â
he just really loves you. and the fact that he gets to come home to his pretty little wife greeting him with a ââwelcome home honey!ââ makes his heart beat against his ribcage so loud that his almost sure you heard it too.Â
at first it was a little hard for him to get used to all this. you greeting him with a hug and a warm smile when he comes home, cooking him delicious food, feeding him with your own hands from time to time, cuddling him, and the fact that he gets to see your face first thing in a morning when he wakes up.Â
yandere!husband can hardly keep up with everything without blushing like crazy from the littlest things. poor man just loves his girl so much.Â
so it shouldnt come as a surprise when he just cant take things anymore sometimes and ends up fucking you like a dog in heat near the closest surface he can find.Â
its still hard for him to process sometimes that your his, he gets to have you, you agreed to be his forever. and his so grateful for it.Â
and he just loves to come home to you in the kitchen with an apron on, cooking him delicious food.Â
theres just something about you in an apron..that drives him insane.
just coming home to his pretty little wife in an apron..wow
he would come behind you and hug you securely from behind while your stirring the food. burying his face in the crook of your neck, sniffing it a little to inhale your scent. ââmhm...you smell so good sweetie..ââ he whispers as he places soft, gentle kisses on your neck that tickle you.Â
you giggle at his kisses as you tell him to stop but he just smiles and pouts with a ââno baby, let me give you my loveââ he says as he continues trialing kisses from your neck to your shoulder. slipping your shirt down on one shoulder where his trailing down kisses. he eventually starts biting you softly.Â
ââlove, whats gotten into you- mh- ah..your..uhm..please wait till the the food is done baby.ââÂ
he doesnt say anything, just keeps kissing, biting and licking your tender skin.Â
you reach your hand behind to grab his hair to somehow pull him away. and it does seem to work as he lifts his head up and comes to whisper in your ear, ââsweetie, dont be so cruel to your husband, dont deny my love and affection. it hurts meââ he says with a fake pout.Â
you sigh at his behavior, ââmhm, sorry love, i just need to get this done, you dont wanna eat burnt food now do you?ââ as much as you wanna give in you cant possibly do so when your cooking, you would hate to feed your dear husband brunt food after all.Â
his hands stay wrapped on your waist as he hums, as if his considering it. but then a smirk quickly makes its way to his lips. as he licks your earlobe and then whispers, ââthen..why dont you just turn the stove off and give me a little of your time darling? just for a bit, i promise. wont keep you for long baby.ââ he says as he places gentle feather kisses on your neck again. trying to slowly convince you.Â
you gulp, trying to fight the little voice in you head that tells you to just give him what he wants. ââcanât you wait a bit longer baby?ââÂ
ââcanât, canât wait anymore baby.ââ he responds
ââbeen thinking about you all day.ââ he says as he nuzzles his head into the crook of your neck.Â
ââdo you know what seeing you in this cute little apron is doing to me baby? do you know what its making me want to do?ââ he asks as he flips you around, lifting you up into the kitchen counter. as he leans in close to your face. both his hands on either sides of your thighs ââhm?ââÂ
you shake your head at his question. he chuckles when you do so. ââguess baby, guessââ he says with a smile, waiting for you continue.Â
ââits..making you really needy..isnt it, love?ââ you ask, giggling.Â
ââthats right baby, its making me so, so needy...its making me want to..take everything off besides the apron.. thats what its making me want to do.ââ he says sternly.Â
he smiles when he sees you flustered by what he said, a small chuckle leaves his lips, ââand tell you whatââ he pauses to look right into your eyes before speaking again, ââi dont think youâd stop meââÂ
ââaahh-! ah-! wait-! mh-mhmm..ââ you moan as your left hand tightens on his hair. pulling and tugging it. but his not moving an inch. his too lost in pleasure to just stop and give you a moment to breathe. this whole moment, situation, is so amazing to him he cant possibly just stop. especially right when your about to cum again.Â
ââmake a mess of my face baby...dont hold back.ââ he says as he moans into your pussy. sending vibrations through your cunt and making you shiver.Â
ââgonna cum...âam gonna cum-!ââ you warn as tears spill down your cheeks.Â
yandare!husband only hums with his face stuffed between your thighs as he sucks and licks your pussy messily with two fingers stuffed into you. his cock twitching and leaking in his boxers from your screams, moans, and whines. everything about you is just so beautiful to him.Â
it doesnt take long before your squirting on his face without a second warning. he tries to take every second drop inside his mouth desperately, like his a starving man. he licks you clean as he holds both your thighs apart.Â
ââso sexy...i didnt know you could squirt like that..ââ he chuckles as he looks up at your face. such a fucking mess youâve become. your huffing and panting with sweat drenching your face.Â
#yandare#yandare smut#smut#jujutsu kaisen#gojo smut#gojo#nanami#nanami smut#toji#toji smut#sukuna#sukuna smut#OBEY ME#obey me smut#one piece smut#diavolo smut#mammon smut#satan smut
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đđŻđŻđđ«đ€đąđȘđąđ«đ±đ° (part III) | frater imperator x reader
(part I) (part II)
đ đ„đđđ±đąđŻ đ°đČđȘđȘđđŻđ¶ | your first trip together ends on a sour note as some of your suppressed concerns about your relationship begin to show, but a delayed wedding reception might turn it all around.
đŽđŹđŻđĄ đ đŹđČđ«đ± | 6.7k (fucking hell)
đ đ„đđđ±đąđŻ đŽđđŻđ«đŠđ«đ€đ° | jealousy/insecurity, MORE heathers references for some reason???, alcohol consumption/slight intoxication, nothing too bad but I swear the slowburn is almost... burnt, or whatever just bear with me
The next day of your visit to Brussels was mostly boring meetings; you almost wanted to ask him why you both had to travel all this way to do the same things you always did, but ultimately you did understand the value of this trip even if it wasnât especially exciting. And though you werenât really capable of assisting with any of the business side of things, you figured out after a while that you were mainly here just to be hereâ because it would be weird if you werenât. Because it would be, for lack of a better word, suspicious if a newly-married couple were traveling separately.
So, you were here, sitting beside him as he and the clergy of the local church discussed various important topicsâ mission work, ministry, how best to spread the message of Satan and bring in the age of the antichrist⊠you know, the usual.
His hand rested on your leg againâ maybe a little higher than before? You weren't certain, but it made you smile to yourself as you tuned out the boring conversation going on around you.
You glanced down at the leather-covered hand by your knee, his fingers moving slightly; the silver grucifix embossed on the back shined in this light. Absent-mindedly, you traced it with one finger, not even noticing that it made him look over at youâ not even really appreciating that his hand was still under there, and could probably feel you drawing shapes over his skin.
âFrater,â a clergyman interjected sternly, âdo you have a response?â
You'd both totally zoned out, and were quickly brought back to reality; Copia jolted in his chair and cleared his throat as he sat up straighter. Worst of all, he took his hand off your leg to clasp them both together in his lap. âI-Iâm sorry?â he coughed. âI fear I lost my train of thought, could you repeat the question?â
âDonât ask Frater Imperator so many complex things so early in the morning,â Comis scolded his fellow cardinal, âhe didnât get much sleep last nightâ non?â
He wore a lopsided grin as he playfully elbowed Copia in the side, who nervously reached up to run his fingers through his hair. âOh, wellâ ehâ I just lost focus for a moment, is allâŠâ
âSure,â Comis agreed sarcastically. âMaybe we should take a break, anyhow. Give us all a chance to stretch our legs.â
âThat sounds nice,â you agreed quickly, mainly just jumping on any chance to get out of this stuffy room and personal conversation.
The meeting room had a sort of lobby outsideâ or maybe it would be called a parlour? A sitting room? You werenât really sure, but it was fancy; there was tea and little cakes and things, the whole place was so detail-oriented like that.
Copia was busy making small talk with some clergymen and women, while you were nursing a cup of lemon-water just to have something to do with your hands.
You heard someone coming up the stairs but didnât think much of it at first. âSister Imperator,â a Sister greeted youâ though you didnât really process it until she reached out and touched your shoulder, making you turn around.
âConsortia,â you added once you realized she was addressing you. âSister Imperator Consortia. Sister Imperator was my mother-in-law.â
âOh, yesâ Iâm so sorry for your loss,â she offered gently.
You realized they were under the assumption that you knew her much betterâ maybe you wouldâve if youâd been dating Copia before marrying him like, you know, most people do. Instead of trying to explain, you just accepted her sympathies with a nod; it was a loss, after all, just not as personal as she mightâve imagined.
âI thought you might want to visit our convent,â she suggested.
âO-oh, um,â you stalled, nervously glancing over your shoulder at Copia as he sipped on a glass of water, âIââ
âHeâll be just fine,â she promised, leaning into you and lowering her voice. âHe knows meetings like the back of his hand.â
And heâll probably fare better without me touching the back of his handâŠ
Nodding in agreement, you slipped out of the sitting room and followed her.
The woman introduced herself as Sister Nomina and guided you through the winding hallsâ Cardinal Comis had shown you the wing that housed the convent the night before on his tour, so you knew where it was, but you hadnât been inside yet. Â
âWe keep a garden,â Sister Nomina explained, âand we have some outreach programsâ an orphanage, a literacy program. But nothing compared to what your church is doing!â
âOh, yes,â you replied, âI suppose our reputation precedes usâŠâ
âIt must be very exhilarating, being in the Church of Ghost,â she presumed with a wide smile.Â
âWell, I wish I could take more credit for all the work that's been done,â youÂ
The two of you arrived at the convent; visually it was similar to the one you'd been living in up until recently, but the inhabitants were quite different. For one, they dressed a bit differently, and seemed to be more lenient with uniform (Sister Imperator would've never let that fly back homeâŠ). And for another thing, they were much more excited to see you than anybody in your convent would've been on any given day.Â
Actually, a group of nuns flocking to you excited reminded you of that day of the fateful clergy meetingâ it felt like a lifetime ago already.
âLadies, Sister Imperator Consortia from Linkoping,â Nomina introduced you to the group of women surrounding you, before reversing to introducing all of them to you. âSisters Mila, Lascivia, Camille, Perita, and Triette.â
âLovely to meet you all,â you nodded, smiling warmly.Â
âGive her some room, ladies, please!â Nomina scolded gently, shooing them back with her hands until they took a few steps away from you. Admittedly, you appreciated the extra breathing room.
âEverybody's been looking forward to your visit immensely,â Nomina justified. âI hope you don't mind answering a few of their questions.â
âOf course not!â
Sister Camille piped up quickly: âAs Sister Imperator Consortia, what responsibilities do you have?â
âW-well, I'm not qualified to serve on the clergy,â you explained, âbecause I wasn't nominated by the clergyâ I was nominated, well, by my husband. So, mainly my job is to support himâŠâ
âDid you grow up in the church?â Sister Perita asked politely.
âWell, yes and no,â you replied. âI wasnât raised a Satanist, so not in the traditional senseâ but I ran away to join the church when I was still just a teenager⊠ever since then, up until rather recently, I was living in convents much like this one.â
That seemed to surprise Sister Triette. âYou really were another Sister of Sin, just like us?â she observed.
It wasnât until then that you realized they didn't just find you interesting, but that they looked up to youâ a role model of sorts, a Sister like them who was perceived as achieving some kind of greatness; it was sweet, even if you felt their admiration was misplaced. âYes, I was,â you nodded.
âDid you work closely with the Papa?â Sister Mila asked.
âNo, my role mostly involved stewardship, administration, occasional gardeningââ
That seemed to confuse them. âSo, then, how'd you fall in love?â Sister Perita wondered.
Your eyes widened; maybe you should've seen some of these questions coming and had answers prepared, but you were completely caught off-guard in that moment. âO-oh, um, it's not a very interesting storyâŠâ
âNo no, please! We've all been dying to know since we heard you two were coming!â Camille insisted.
The Sisters leaned in excitedly in anticipation; you hadn't realized the news of your marriage had so much impact. Then again, Copia was technically a celebrityâ you just weren't used to his popularity outside of your own church. âYou're not all just trying to get pointers to seducing clergy so you can get a promotion, right?â you wondered with a frown.
âNo! We just want to hear how you two met,â Perita explained, âand how you realized you loved each otherâ and how he proposed!â
They all clapped and giggled excitedly, but all you could manage was a nervous grin. The real story was definitely not going to satisfy them; you felt guilty imagining disappointing them with some clinical explanation of it all. âW-well, how we met is sort of⊠obvious, I guess. We met in Mass, when he was the Papaâ he served me communion. I didn't know him as a cardinal, I hadn't moved to his church yet, but he⊠well, I was pretty intimidated by him. You can't blame meâ it's the Papa, after allâŠâ
Up until then, you had told the truthâ but you started, for lack of a better term, winging it at that point.
âThe first time we spokeâ it was an unexpected thing, you see. We bumped into each other, literally; I wasn't paying attention and he was rushing to get to a clergy meetingâ I helped him pick up some books heâd dropped.âÂ
ClichĂ©d? Absolutely, but you felt like that was ultimately what they wanted to here: a too-good-to-be-true story about how an ordinary Sister was swept off her feet by such an important man. Why the Papa would be running around carrying a stack of books is an absurd question for another dayâŠ
âWe got to talking⊠we had more in common than we expected. We bonded overââ you fought back a smirk as you figured out an easy lieâ âslushies, actually. He said that traveling with the band meant hardly ever being in the same place, but that there was almost always a convenience store with slushies wherever he was. They became a comfort, I suppose.â
You decided not to go on and say that the two of you had played strip croquet together⊠probably too obvious of a reference.
âWe were just friends for some time, but eventually we started to grow real feelings for each other,â you concluded simply.
They broke out into a collective aww; âWhat's he like? You know, when he's not in front of so many people.â
âUm⊠he's not that different, I guess,â you mumbled, âmaybe not as dramatic. But he's so sensitive, too, and gentleâŠâ
âIâve always thought he would be that way,â Sister Lascivia agreed, âbut intense, too, you knowâ like, dominating.â
You choked on your own throat for a second. Why were you thinking about him at all? âU-um, what makes you say that?â you wondered.
âI donât know,â she shrugged, biting back a grin, âhe just seems that way.â
âY-you mean, on stage?â you pressed, but the line of questioning shifted suddenly when Sister Perita interrupted.
âAnd the proposal? It must have been some fantastic gesture!â she assumed. âOnly fitting for a rockstar, right?â
âYouâd think, but he doesn't really act like that⊠he's so humble. Actually, it was very intimate,â you decided. âHe knows I can get a little overwhelmed with those big crowds, so instead we went out in aâ um, little rowboat onto the lake nearby our church, right around sunset, and watched the stars come out⊠he played a little guitar for me, just to be nice because he knows I love how he playsâ and then under the full moon, he told me that, uhâŠâ
Why was your heart racing? Why could you picture it so clearly in your mind, as if you werenât just making it all up as you went along?
âThat meeting me had made his heart whole,â you concluded. âThat he couldn't go on unless he knew we were going to spend the rest of our lives together⊠and he showed me the ring andâ and, you know, all that. Of course, I said yes right away.â
âOh wow,â Sister Mila cooedâ she looked as close to having heart-shaped irises as youâd ever seen anyone in real life.
But of course, another had to chime in as well: âAnd you don't get jealous, knowing how popular he is? Plenty of people would kill for your spot, you know.â
You willed your eye not to twitch. âHe's, um⊠he's never given me any reason to be jealous,â  He's loyal, he always has been, even when we were just dating. B-but we didn't date very long before we marriedâŠâ
You realized you couldnât retroactively ascribe some kind of fidelity to himâ after all, heâd been a rockstar (as Perita had put it) on tourâŠÂ
And heâd been to this church before. Your heart almost stopped as the sick thought entered your mind that he couldâve, potentially, hooked up with any of the people in this room; certainly Sister Lascivia wouldâve probably jumped him if she got the chance, but she was far from the only candidate. Come on, he was Papa fucking Emeritus the fucking IV, he had his pick of the litter if he so desired.
You knew it shouldnât make any difference to you, you knew it was none of your business and you had no right to worry about itâ but just the idea of him with one of themâ with anyoneâ
âI guess he married you so quickly because he loves you so much,â Sister Nomina smiled.
You smiled back, even if you felt like you were still trying to keep bile down. âYes, I guess so.â
âAnd now youâre married to the head of the clergy; itâs like a fairytale or something!â Sister Mila beamed, clutching her hands together.
What kind of fairytales is this girl reading? âIt all really has nothing to do with his statusâ Frater, Papa, Cardinal, he could be a janitor for all I care,â you assured her. âI married him because he's the most patient, talented, generous manââ
You noticed the way many of them seemed to straighten up suddenly, the way Sister Peritaâs eyes widened, and you spun over your shoulder to see Copia sauntering up behind you. He had a good poker face, but there was an obvious smugness to it. âWhatâs that they say? Speak of the devil?â he mused as he leaned against the doorway.
âOh, hello⊠dear,â you blurted outâ seems youâd used up all your creativity on that fake meet-cute and proposal, didnât have any left for a good term of endearment. Â
âYouâre not telling stories again, are you?â he asked, approaching you slowly, the slightest swagger in his step.
âEveryoneâs very curious about you,â you explained.
âNo, I donât think so,â he denied, âthey already know about meâ theyâre curious about us.â
Us sounded so nice when he said it like that. He touched your shoulder for a moment, sliding his hand down to clasp at your upper arm. Paradoxically, he acted more confident with an audience; you couldnât tell if this was for your benefit, or theirs.
âDonât go running off without me, hm?â he scolded sweetly.
âYes, Frater,â you answered politely, wondering afterwards if it was too formal.
It didnât seem to deter him: he brought his hand to your chin and held it delicately, keeping your head tilted up towards him. âI worry when I lose sight of you,â he explained. âWe have to get ready for Mass soon, will you meet me at the chancel before the service begins?â
âOf course,â you agreed, smiling a little as he looked down at you so⊠lovingly? Could that be the word?
You wondered if he would kiss you right thenâ you hadnât kissed in public since your first kiss, and you thought you wanted to keep it that way⊠but wouldnât it be a little fun, to show him off just a bit in front of these ladies? Wouldnât it be the best way to rub it in that he chose you?
Instead he only stroked your jaw with his thumb for a second, before letting go of you and stepping back. He gave only one moment of attention to the women around youâ with a quick bow of greeting and a polite âSistersâ â before spinning on his heel and departing.
You pressed your lips together and kept your eyes on the door even after he was gone; there was a heavy silence until the echoes of his steps down the hall faded. Then they all broke into the squealy, girlish reactions you were expecting.
âGreat Belial below!â âHeâs so sensual!â âYou can tell heâs completely enamoured with you!â
âO-oh, enamoured?â you repeated sheepishly. âI donât know, heâs justâ like thatâŠâ
But your face warmed and you had to reach up to partially cover it with your handâ you didnât want them to see your growing smile, in case someone asked why you were so giddy over a small interaction with your own husband. Â
You departed from the convent not too long after that, knowing you didnât have much time before Mass began and wanting to give yourself time to navigate to the chapel. A walk through the church alone wouldâve been a nice opportunity to clear your head, if your head was actually capable of clearingâ but no, instead it was swirling with memories. Memories all the way back as that first time he served you the body and blood, when heâd apparently taken an interest in you which eventually lead to this; memories as recent as the way heâd touched you just before.
Did it still make you feel a little nauseous knowing Sister Lasciviaâ and likely tens of thousands of other peopleâ were somewhere out there thinking about how dominating he must be? Yes, but you also felt a little proud of yourself⊠because thatâs all they had, their thoughts. You actually had a shot at finding out for yourself.
If you ever found the nerve, that is; regardless, you tried to push that thought process aside and actually listen to the priest as he officiated Mass that evening. Of course, you really werenât able to do that until being mentioned by name got your attention.
âAnd we have some visitors this Mass!â the priest announced. âFrater Imperator and Sister Imperator Consortiaâtheyâve come all the way from the church of Ghost in Sweden! Give them a warm welcome, will you?â
As the congregation applauded, Copia stood up; you followed suit quickly, getting a good look at the sea of people in pews all looking at you both. You hadnât seen a crowd like this since your wedding. Â
Your smile was genuine but flustered when Copia placed his decorated hand on your shoulder; it already made your heart tremble when he did it in front of a few Sisters of Sin, this was on a whole new level. He guided you a little closer to him, tucking you into his side, and you looked out over the massive crowd before glancing at the glove on your shoulderâ namely, the wedding ring on it.
Then you looked at his face, at how polite and distinguished he looked standing before all these people. âWhat do I do?â you asked your husband in a whisper.
âHm?â he pressed, only briefly glancing at you.
âWith all this attention,â you clarified, âwhat am I meant to do?â
âJust smile,â he encouraged. âAll they want is to see you. Just give them a smile, maybe a little wave if youâre feeling generous.â
He was a showman, he knew what he was doingâ you tried to copy him, with moderate success. It was comforting, somehow, to see him in his element. Unfortunately, how comfortable he was here only served as kindling for the flame of insecurity in the back of your mind. Because heâs him, and youâre just⊠you.
And there in that sea of congregation members were plenty of those people youâd had mentioned to you before: the ones who would kill to have your spot.
~
âYou should be proud of yourself,â he grinned as he took his seat across from you on the jet once againâ it felt like so much had happened since the last time you were here. âYou shouldnât be so adverse to social engagements, youâre a natural.â
âNo, definitely not,â you laughed a bit, âbut I didnât hate it as much as I thought I would. You made it easier for me.â
âThey love you already, darling,â he promised, and the casual affectionate name made you smile even more, though you tried to hide it from him. âSo does everyone back at our churchâ anyone who knows you would, really.â
Your heart swelled, but you just hummed and looked away in lieu of responding. Â
Of course, as soon as your heart was happy, your brain had to pop in and ruin it: that smile on Sister Lasciviaâs face, the way she was so clearly picturing your husband in some kind of compromising way. And the horrible, sick idea that maybe she didnât have to just imagine it.
Copia was already prepared for a quiet flightâ he had his legs crossed and a book open in his lap, his chin resting on one of his hands as he read. You looked at him for a moment, appreciating how calm he seemed to always be; sometimes it was hard to believe he was the same man with that rockstar reputation, but you knew it was too naive to assume just because he could be quiet that he must not have lived to the fullest in his time as the Papa.
You managed to distract yourself by watching out the window as the jet took off, but once you were high enough to break through the clouds, the view was basically just white light and was not nearly interesting enough to keep your mind occupied.
It shouldnât have even mattered! So what if he was a bit more intimately acquainted with someone youâd met on that trip? It didnât make any difference now. Yet, it was all you could think of, and even knowing it would only bring you pain, you compared yourself to herâ she was quite pretty, after all, even with that habit covering up most of her. Maybe she was more his type⊠maybe she was exactly his type.
By that point youâd basically convinced yourself it was true, without any evidence at all.
You swallowed the lump in your throat, but for some reason you couldnât seem to hold back the words forming there. âDo you know any of the Sisters there?â you heard yourself ask before you could stop yourself. âI-I mean, did you know any of them before today...â
âEh⊠no, I donât think so,â he mumbled.
âBut youâve been to the church before,â you recalled, âyou know Comis.â
âWell, yes, heâs their main ambassadorâ Sisters come and go, you know.â
You nodded, and he looked back down at his book. You let the moment rest for a few seconds that felt like an eternity. âItâs just thatââ
He sighed a little and shut his book.
âThey seemed to be so fascinated by you,â you explained. âI think you had quite a few fans there.â
âFans? You mean, the band?â he raised an eyebrow, and you nodded. âThen thatâs not me, is it? I just sang for a whileâ Iâm interchangeable, by design.â
âBut stillâ you were, are, so popular.â
âEh⊠if you say soâŠâ
âCome on,â you tilted your head, a bit of frustration leaking into your tone, âdonât be like thatâ you know what youâre doing.â
He looked a little confused, if not almost hurt by the implied accusation of deceitfulness. âWhat are you asking me about?â he pressed, narrowing his eyes.
âDid you fuck any of them?â
Your eyes widened when you heard yourself say itâ you really couldnât believe youâd just word-vomited it out like that. He seemed a little shocked, too, but much more amused than anything. You didnât like it at all, the way he smiled; it made you feel even more stupid for asking it, for thinking it even.
âIâm sorry,â you said instantly, âI shouldnât haveââ I shouldnât have started this conversation while weâre trapped together for four hours, for one thingâ âitâs not my place. Forget I asked, it doesnât matter.â
âNow now,â he cooed, âif it concerns you, then it matters.â
He was teasing youâ dangling it in front of you. âIt doesnât concern me,â you assured, âin every sense of the wordâ itâs none of my concern.â
âYou look concerned.â
âYes, but⊠that's my problem, not yours.â
He sighed, looking at you as if he were a little disappointed for some reason. âDo you remember our vows, tesoro?â
You swallowed thickly. Not really, I'm pretty sure I was in the middle of an anxiety-induced blackout. âUhâŠâ you stalled.
âWe agreed to care for each other, to share our hearts forever,â he reminded you. âThat means that if something upsets you, then it upsets me. Even if you think it's sillyâ and from what I can tell, it's not.â
âOf course it is,â you rolled your eyes. âIt's silly to ask a famous musician if he slept with any fansâ of course you did.â
âI did,â he admitted, âbut surely not with the frequency you're imagining. And not with anyone in Brussels, if that's any comfort.â
You crossed your arms over yourself self-consciously, looking out the window even though the cloudy scenery hadn't changed much.
âOf course I've had lovers beforeâ you have too, I know. I hope we won't hold that against each other.â
âYes, of course,â you sighed. âObviously I never expected, or even wanted, either of us to be virginal or something, Satan forbid. And there's nothing wrong with you meeting women on the road, either⊠it's just⊠is it wrong that thinking about it makes me kind of want to strangle someone?â
He laughed; âNo,â he assured, âI don't think so.â
Unfortunately, he was rightâ that talking about it made you feel a little better. Â
âIs it wrong that I think you're especially sexy when you're jealous?â
Your throat caught and you looked away from him quickly, holding your face in your hand as an excuse to cover it, but he obviously noticed the way you crossed your legs tightly. His eyes raked over you, you could feel it somehow even when you were refusing to actually look back at him.
âI donât think you have much right to be so shy, after asking me such personal questions,â he purred. Â
âI-Iâm not being shy,â you denied in a mumble, âI just didnât expect you to say that.â
âI hope it doesnât offend youââ
âNo! No,â you assured quickly, letting go of your heated face to look down into your lap. âYouâre being sweet, thank you.â
âItâs only the truth,â he insisted. âLetâs always tell each other that, alright? Just the truth.â
You nodded in agreement, finding the strength to meet his gaze again; the look in his eyes was just like the one heâd had when he found you in the convent. It must not have been just for show, thenâŠÂ
âPromise youâll get some rest while we fly,â he sighed, âwe wonât be landing until the late evening and we have quite a day ahead tomorrow.â
You only remembered it right then: your wedding reception. As if you hadnât had enough excitement for a lifetime in this week already.
~
It was a unique reception in a number of ways, probably too many to count. First of all, most receptions happen right after the wedding, of courseâ but late night Masses left little time for that. Secondly, receptions usually have speeches and sentimental things for the families of the betrothed; while Copiaâs family of phantasms were in attendance, they didnât have much to say, and what could they say? They didnât even know you. So, instead, your reception was much more of the good stuff: dancing, eating, drinking, and good old-fashioned partying.
And then there was, you know, the demonic statues and sacrifices. But that, to you, wasnât so out of the ordinary.
You were seated at the head table with him, watching the crowd in all their merriment, feeling an odd sense of prideâ of responsibility for all this joy. It wasnât like youâd planned this, it was a gift from the clergy who had done the work of putting it together, but technically you were half of what was being celebrated.
Maybe it was just appreciation for home, after your trip to Brussels. It was always nice to see familiar faces filled with joy.
He leaned in closer to you so you could hear him over the music as he spoke, and you felt his breath on your shoulder. âI'm sorry we didn't have time for this sooner,â he said.
âOh! I wouldn't have known what to do if we'd done it any sooner,â you admitted with a laugh. Not that you especially knew what to do nowâ but you at least, by now, knew how to fake knowing what to do.
âAnd Iâm sorry we couldnât do something a little more traditional,â he added.
âTraditional?â you repeated with a laugh.
âWhatâs that American thing, where they feed each other the wedding cake?â he raised an eyebrow. âMaybe we should have done that⊠Iâve always thought it looked sweet.â
You had no idea he had any opinions about things like that; it was endearing to imagine he ended up watching wedding videos at some point and wanted something like that for himself. âWell, we can still do that another time,â you offered, âwhen there arenât so many people watching.â
Again, you didnât quite put together how that sounded until he cleared his throat and his cheeks pinkened at bit; of course it sounded suggestive when you phrased it like that, how could you have not seen that coming?!
Before you could correct yourself, thoughâ or decide if you actually did need to correct anythingâ the ghouls on the chancel began playing a familiar song.
It didnât sound the same, of course, with another singer filling in, but you could so easily hear Copiaâs voice in those words: You'll soon be hearing the chime, close to midnightâŠ
He stood up suddenly, and you looked up at him. âMay I have this dance, cara mia?â he asked with an extended hand.
You took it with a smile; âI think one of the privileges of marriage is that you don't have to ask me that.â
Guiding you to the dancefloor, it felt like one of those movie scenes with the way the crowd parted for you on their own. Was there a spotlight on you or was that just your imagination?
One of the few things you'd known about him before marrying him was that he was quite a dancerâ what you hadn't known until now was how much you enjoyed dancing. He made it easy, guiding you through the moves so well that people would probably think you had more experience than you did.
You had every right to be nervous, and you were, but for the first time it felt sort of⊠good? Surely the alcohol in your system was aiding you, but it wasnât just that. Your heart was racing but you didnât feel the urge to run and hide; he was smiling at you, he was pulling you closer, and for just a few moments you were suddenly fearless.
I just wanna be, wanna bewitch you in the moonlight
I just wanna be, wanna bewitch you all night
He spun and dipped you, making you laugh with exhilaration. When he pulled you back up, the look in his eyes almost took your breath away⊠so determined, yet romantic and vulnerable. A look you felt like only he could pull off.
If the songâs lyrics were some sort of manifestation, then it was working: you were totally bewitched by him. It was just the two of you and the music playing, it was just his hands holding and guiding you, it was just this perfect moment that you could hardly believe was happening to you. Werenât you just an ordinary Sister this time two weeks ago?
You knew when the song was nearly over, and when he spun you one more time and pulled you into him, your hand came up to the side of his face, your leg lifted to slightly straddle his side⊠your eyes drifted down to his lips.
Just one more split-second and you wouldâve kissed him. Not just any kiss, you wouldâve kissed him like you never had beforeâ like nobody ever had before. Â
But the crowd of people around you instead began to proudly clap and cheer, and it tore you out of the moment; honestly, youâd sort of forgotten you were surrounded by all the guests. You looked away from Copia and smiled at the people who had watched you dance, hardly even noticing that he never stopped looking at you.
It went by too quicklyâ not just the song but the whole night. All too soon, you were back in your room; ears still ringing, heart still thumping, and (less enjoyably) feet still a little bit sore from dancing in new shoes despite having changed into your night clothes and comfy socks already.
As Copia walked to his side of the bed in his own signature embroidered pyjamas, you fell back on the bed limply, laying your arms out wide and staring up at the ceiling with a sighâ a happy sigh of course, a does this night really have to end? sigh. âThat was wonderful,â you announced with a beaming smile. âI didn't think I'd enjoy it so much, but it was perfect.â
âI hoped you would,â Copia agreed. âYou've seemed so tenseâ I'm not sure I ever saw you looking so relaxed, and joyful⊠you look so beautiful that way.â
âY-you don't have to flatter me,â you mumbled, pulling your arms back in towards yourself as tilted your head back to look at himâ upside down, but still at him.
âOf course, I never would,â he assured, laying down carefully on the bed beside you. âIt's just the truth. I bet everyone was as taken with you as I was⊠but only I got to dance with you.â
You smiled a little more softly, admiring how sweet he could beâ a side of him you felt privileged to see so close. You wanted to say something, but you really had no idea how to respond to a statement like that, or even how to just take the compliment.
âCan I tell you something?â he asked quietly.
âO-of course,â you answered, âyou can tell me anything.â
âI-I'm a little embarrassed,â he admitted with a soft laugh, âbut I⊠I've seen Heathers.â
You tilted your head, laughing in confusion.
âI don't know why I lied to you before,â he shook his head, âI know it quite wellâ I saw it in theaters when it was released! I justâ I thoughtâ I'm not sure. I guess I liked you explaining it to me.â
Your heart jumped, and you looked down at the bed under you sheepishly, as if your finger tracing the pattern on the quilt was fascinating all of a sudden.
âI wanted to give you an excuse to talk to me,â he added.
âYou⊠you could've just⊠talked,â you told him quietly. âIt wasn't like I would've ignored you.â
âYes, I know,â he sighed, âbut the moment never felt right.â
âHow does the moment feel now?â you asked shyly.
âOh, tesoro, everything about tonight feels perfect.â
Your heart skipped a beat; everything?
You wondered, of course, if he would try something again; it was hard not to imagine that, since this was such a similar set of circumstances to that very first night. But it felt so different, tooâ it felt less terrifying, for one thing, and less confusing.
But instead of letting yourself wonder about that for too longâ afraid heâd somehow see it on your face, and know what you were picturingâ you sat up a little bit and propped yourself up on your elbows.
âI asked why you chose me already,â you began, âbut I never asked the bigger question, did I? That is, why you got married at all.â
He sighed shortly before he answered. âMy mother, she asked me to get married. At first, I thought it was just the will of the clergy. I understand now it was much more than that.â
âShe wanted you to be happy,â you assumed.
âYes, yesâŠâ he trailed off, looking to the side. âShe knew I didn't want to be alone anymore.â
Your heart twisted a little; âI figure the Papa himself never has to be alone,â you mumbled through a sheepish smile. âYou could take anyone to bed you wanted, a new companion every night.â
He chuckled a little. âI think you know that's not what I meanâ I learned better than anyone that being by oneself and being alone are different things,â he explained. âEven if I did find the time and energy for a thousand lovers, I would've still been lonely without a real partner⊠something to call my own. But I never had the timeâ or, I told myself that, to justify why I didn't have anyone.â
You understood that better than he could knowâ better than you wanted to realize.
âMy parents loved each other, but spent most of their lives apart,â he explained. âI don't want to be like that. I don't want to have something beautiful and let it go to waste.â
He looked at you right then, and it seemed like it meant something but you wouldn't let yourself imagine what.
âCould I kiss you again?â he asked softly. It sort of completely caught you off-guard, not what he said but the way he said it: the unsureness in his voice, the slight flush on his face.
You didn't answer with words, you simply reached up and brushed your fingers through the hair at his temple, where it was turning silverâ another reminder of how long he'd been alone.Â
You moved your hand in to cradle his face, leaning closer.
There was something shockingly comfortable about it, like you'd known each other for years. You had grown to care for him, you couldn't deny that, but you surprised even yourself by how you pulled him closer as he kissed you.
It brought back memories of your wedding night, of course, and you couldn't decide if it felt like just yesterday or months ago. All that fear and anxiety you'd been nearly crushed by thenâ it was only a distant memory, to the point that it was almost hard to believe you were the same person who had felt all that.
In some ways, you weren't.
His hand gently rested on your side, before carefully moving around to your lower back to keep you pressed against him. Why did that feel so perfect? His head tilted a little more, his kiss deepened a little more, you sighed a little heavier.Â
As he pulled away, he looked into your eyes; you saw something new and totally indescribable in them.
If he kisses me again, I won't be able to say no to him, you realized.
He only smiled at you gently, his fingers brushing over your cheek. âGoodnight, darling,â he offered quietly.
You were still in shock just a bit as he kissed your temple softly, before pulling back and turning to face away from you as he climbed under the covers. Blinking quickly, you wondered if you would've asked him not to stop if he'd given you a chance.
Slowly laying down yourself, you faced towards him and sighed a little as you looked at the back of him.
You stared at him for so long that night, watching him sleep, willing yourself to just reach over and wake him; to run your fingers through his hair until he stirred and turned to face you. And then you wouldnât have to say anything, you could just kiss him and heâd understand. All you had to do was lift your hand and touch him⊠then his arms would be around you, his lips would be on you, his weight would press you into the bedâŠ
You fell asleep before you ever found the nerve. But thatâs not to say you fell asleep quickly; no, not at all.
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i canât find the post anymore but i saw a vid on twt that was a guy smoking a cigarette while a girl blew him and at one point he grabbed her hair, pulled her off his dick, ashed his cigarette on her tongue, then made her keep going even after it burnt him a little and iâ patrick zweig core is all i can say
I'm not strong enough to entertain the mental image of patrick zweig with his legs spread, one hand lazily cupping the back of your head while the other holds a cig he takes hits from every now and then. god help me, help me god. his submissive little slut, you'd let him do anything to you, huh? just worshipping his cock like you can't fucking get enough of it. slurping loudly around him tunneling in and out of your throat because the salty tang of him on your tongue is so good - it's so him. you could suck on him for hours, happily.
patrick is flushed al the way down his chest - sweat gleaming, curling the hair on his chest and around his ears. the room is hot - the tight suction around his cock is hot - shit, it's good. he picks his head up from the back of the couch and watches you lazily as smoke curls from his nose. shifts his thighs apart to give you more room to work - "you like that shit. fuck - show me how much you love that dick, baby. just like that -" he curls his fist in your hair, twists it like a leash and uses it to pull you on and off at a faster pace. fucks your throat on his cock a couple times and then holds you at the tip - "look how you made my shit wet." talking about the sheen of spit and drool coating him, he lets you tongue at his slit before he's grunting, "back down." and feeding all that thick dick back into your throat. holds you at his base while you choke and sputter because it feels so fucking good around him - the spasms around his length as your throat struggles and rebels. spit dripping down his balls. he jiggles your head like a joystick back and forth against his crotch, jostling his cock in your throat and bullying your esophagus to it's limit.
he lets you up when you're fully about to spit up, tears spilling down your face and you cough and sputter and it's the hottest shit patricks seen in his life. he takes another hit from his cigarette and and brings your head close, his wet cock sliding against your cheek lewdly, the other side of your face nuzzling his fuzzy thigh. "look up at me." he tells you, and you do. big wide eyes full of adoration. he twitches against your face. "put your tongue out."
you slide it out easily - pink and wiggling. he brings his cigarette down to it, taps the end of his stick and ashes it down on your tongue. you hiss as it hits your sensitive tongue, eyes filling again, but you don't pull away. he thinks about pressing the tip of the cig fully against the muscle, putting it out - knows you'd let him. maybe another time. he wants to fucking nut. "that's good, baby."
he drags you back down over his dick, leans his head back against the couch, the cigarette back between his lips as he sinks inside that tight, warm hole. "make me fucking cum with that throat."
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situationship(s)
eren x black!reader (chubby reader)
âr-renâs enough⊠too much,â and when you say that he thrusts his hips a bit harder, making you really feel the way his tip pokes at your cervix. it makes you an idiotic mess, blabbering, stuttering and moaning as eren fucked you relentlessly from the back.
just real nasty toxic!eren who shoots your flimsy resolve down with terrific accuracy as he makes it his mission to shit on your ex, mid stroke, cause heâs a damn narcissist. itâs always shit about how bad your ex was; how he was an asshole, coniving, that sneaky sone of a bitch. he really was an asshole, so much so, he made jaeger look like a saint.
âwas he as big as me? how many times did he make this pussy cum in one night?â
his words? they stung bad like the newly formed tears in your eyes, that you blinked away. they smushed your brain in between the palm of its invisible hands as his hips slam against your ass over and over. like a paddle to a ping pong ball, eren. didnât miss. a. single. hit.
he didnât miss the way your thighs trembled and your body would go all limp, as you moaned into the sheets to get rid of all that pent up sexual frustration. it ripped at your insides during the day, but burnt like a warm bonfire, steadily growing as you threw things at it. but you also missed the way how this â all this contact felt on a day-to-day basis when you two were together, once a normal couple.
âall this squirming, baby? ex wasnât fucking you good enough, huh? left this pussy aching for some real dick. you just needed me to dig this pussy outâ
mhmm
he reaches for your arms, locks them together behind your back with both of his arms. now he can really control everythingyouâre back arches up, your body trembles and you pull yourself off his dick. mumbling some things about him being too rough, being too mean, and something âbout, âstoo hard, daddy-â sniffles, â,âgentler please.â
eren silently complies, but while he has you in his grasp, he will enjoy his time. you made him come all this way, and he will leave with something.
he stretched your ass cheeks apart and spat a nice wod of spit onto his thumb and rubbed its way right into that other hole, it felt so tight but erenâs thumb just slipped right in, hooking into you as he stretched his fingers around the suppleness of your ass and the fullness of your hips. and when you pulled your hips away, scared cause you didnât know how long you could go with eren digging into you making you damn near pass out.
heâs rolling his eyes in annoyance, blowing a strand of hair out his face, and tracing his hands down your back.
âyou donât wanna cum on my dick? youâre hurting my feelings, babyâŠâ
his voice rang like church bells in a desolate ghost town left for caravans and wonderers to salvage. the baritone octave and slew of words spilling out of his throat as if he just learned them; literring complete nonsense into your ear.
then the most heart achingly, sweet pout form on his face. heâs forcing your back into a deep, pretty arch, your back rolls stretch and squish back as your body conforms and relaxes. then his fingers slot themselves into the space between your hips and stomach, bringing your ass back, thrusting his dick in between your ass cheeks before he stuffs your cunt full, again.
hitting just right against the spot that hides deep in the back towards, up at the top, you scream, and end up cumming on his dick. âyeah, iâll go slow, ma. jus-just keep cumming on this dick. i know when youâre lying, talking âbout someâtoo hard.â you gasp out, whining as erenâs soft groans of mockery send shivers through your body, making you cum even harder, trembling as your orgasm hits harder the slower his strokes become, your little fingers ball up the sheets.
your pussy hugs him, it keeps his dick nice and warm, so soft and inviting that small spurts of cum shoot right out of his tip. hips stuttering as your pussy squeezes and squeezes to milk his cock. sucking tighter at the tip, the farther he digs in then winding down as your poor hips bucked along his length. you canât manage a single word, youâre droolinâ and winding your hips. making it clap, bouncing your ass back, âlike that mamas, bounce it on my dick, good girl.â
and here you were listening. feeling delighted from the addiction. when you think youâve managed to get over him, youâre running back. taking his nonsense, and his dick like a packaged deal. when youâre telling him how shitty of a boyfriend he was⊠though you tend to do it during inopportune times. your favorite time being when heâs got all eight inches of his dick in you.
eren knows you all too well, because heâs the one who was on the receiving end of all those phone calls youâd make when your boyfriend fucked up. maybe you shouldâve stayed with him, oddly it seemed like he wasnât fully lying when he said youâd always come back to him.
the way he treated you throughout your entire relationship, meaning nothing â tossed to the firey flames of an incenerator. lighting a quick flame that distinguishes with the flip of a switch; your heart. it could also be your brain, but these days differentiating them seemed highly inattainable.
there was rarely peace of mind.
so youâre stuck coming back for a bed to lay on, and a dick to fuck. heâs just a shitty, asshole⊠narcissist? thatâs what it is. and you blame yourself for parading along such witty ego. it was a complete drag, ripping you up and tying you by your ankles. the fucking worst.
#eren x black reader#eren x reader smut#eren x black reader smut#eren jaeger x reader smut#eren jaeger smut#aot x reader#eren jaeger aot#eren smut
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