#am i lowkey tipsy

[notlongtolove]

like a lover

he doesn’t answer. he doesn’t even look at you again. he just shakes his head and walks into the bedroom. by the time you follow him, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it holds the answer to whatever’s boiling inside him. fine. If he wants to ice you out, two can play that game.

pairing: spencer reid x fem!reader (second person, no y/n)

genre: hurt comfort

content: student!reader gets drunk after a brutal final and spencer is beyond mad. very brief mention of abduction. lowkey spencer is in the right bc #safety but he made reader cry n for that he is found #guilty!!!

word count: 3.1k

note: based off this ask! random fact the last line of this fic was the inspiration for empty my soul but idk why i just couldnt fit it in there, anyways i hope you guys like it! (pls tell me if u do i was struggling with a resolution for this)

a line: Spencer thinks, for a split second, that he’d rather die than ever have to see you cry like that again.

I give you an onion. It is a moon wrapped in brown paper. It promises light like the careful undressing of love. Here. It will blind you with tears like a lover. It will make your reflection a wobbling photo of grief. I am trying to be truthful. - carol ann duffy

You probably should’ve stopped five drinks ago—maybe four if you were feeling merciful. That last Vodka cran? A spectacularly bad idea. But whatever. You earned this. You’re young, you’re fun, you look good, and for the first time in weeks, you have no deadlines clawing at you. The final had been a nightmare. You knew your fate was sealed the second you flipped to question three. What the hell is textual and symbolic environmentalisation? But it’s over now. That’s all that matters.

The wind bites at your bare legs as you stand by the curb, aimlessly kicking a pebble. You hug your arms close, fighting off the chill. Maybe you should’ve brought a jacket. Spencer had suggested it, but you’d waved him off. He’s usually right.

You frown, glancing up at the street sign. He said he’d be here. Right? Your phone’s dying battery blinks at you in its final moments, mocking you before shutting off completely. Definitely should’ve taken his offer of a portable charger, too. You sigh, shifting your weight from one foot to the other.

A man stumbles by, reeking of booze. You don’t need to look to know.

"Hey," he calls out, voice slurred and gravelly.

You keep your eyes down, pretending not to hear.

“Hey,” he says again, louder this time.

Where the hell is Spencer?

"D’you know when the bus starts running again?"

You hesitate, half-relieved that he’s asking something semi-coherent. "I—I’m sorry, I’m not sure."

He nods to himself, swaying on his feet. 

"I told you to wait by the bodega on 3rd," a familiar voice mutters. Spencer’s hand closes around your arm, already steering you away.

"Oh, hey," you say softly, relief washing over you. "Is this not—" You glance at the street sign overhead—4 Maple Drive. Shit. "I—sorry, I thought—"

"It’s fine," he says, but the sharp edge in his voice tells you it’s not.

The car ride is suffocatingly silent. When he pulls open the passenger door for you, there’s no trace of his usual warmth. No soft smile, no gentle tease about your perpetually dead phone. Just a click of the door and the quiet thud of it shutting behind you.

You hate this. Hate the tension humming between you, the way his jaw is set tight as he drives. He was so different this afternoon, greeting you after your final with those cupcakes he knows you love from the bakery on the other side of town, his lips brushing yours in endless, giddy kisses. This Spencer is nothing like that. 

"They played ‘Dancing Queen’ tonight," you venture, voice tentative. He knows it’s your favourite. Knows it always pulls you to the dance floor, no matter how tired or tipsy you are. "It was so funny—some guy bought us a round of shots—"

"And you drank it?"

The question lands heavy. His first words to you since he’d started driving. 

"Well... yeah?"

"What else did you drink?"

"Not a lot," you say quickly, tripping over your words. "Just vodka, tequila, a bit of wine—"

"You mixed?" 

The way he says it makes you bristle. There’s a hint of disbelief, maybe even disappointment. 

"Spence," you say softly. "I’m not that drunk, I promise."

Nothing.

His knuckles tighten on the steering wheel. The silence in the air is almost tangible, a crackling, oppressive thing. When he pulls into the driveway and kills the engine, he doesn’t move to open your door. He always does that. But not tonight. 

You’re pretty sure he’s mad at you, though you’re not entirely sure why. It’s not like you go out that often, and you can’t even remember the last time you let yourself get this drunk. Tonight was an exception, a celebration. He understands, doesn’t he?

You follow him inside, trailing behind like a shadow. He doesn’t head to the kitchen like he does after you get back from a night out—no tea, no toast, no quiet ritual of making sure you’re okay. Instead, he walks straight into the study, his back to you. Yeah, he’s definitely mad. 

"You’re mad at me," you say, standing in the doorway.

He doesn’t answer. His hands grip the back of his chair, his head bowed like he’s trying to gather himself. You’re not one to push, usually giving him the space he needs when he gets all broody like this, but the alcohol that’s running through your system is making it hard to practice patience. 

"Why are you mad at me?"

Still nothing. 

When he finally moves, it’s only to brush past you, heading for the bedroom without so much as a glance. "We’ll talk about this tomorrow," he says, his tone flat, clipped. "I can’t talk to you when you’re like this."

This. The word hits like a slap, sharp and dismissive. It irks you. 

"If you didn’t want to come, then you shouldn’t have come," you mutter under your breath, the words slipping out before you can stop them. "I could’ve gotten a ride—"

"You were slurring on the phone." He stops in the hallway, turning just enough for you to see the tight set of his jaw. 

"Yeah, no shit, Spencer. People slur when they drink," you fire back a little too harshly, the alcohol fueling your irritation as you cross your arms defensively.

"Don’t," he warns, his voice low, dangerous in a way that makes your chest tighten.

​​You glare at him, heat rising in your cheeks. "Don’t what? Don’t point out how ridiculous you’re being right now?"

He doesn���t answer. He doesn’t even look at you again. He just shakes his head and walks into the bedroom. By the time you follow him, he’s sitting on the edge of the bed, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor like it holds the answer to whatever’s boiling inside him. Fine. If he wants to ice you out, two can play that game.

You head to the bathroom without a word, your movements jerky as you swipe at the remnants of your makeup. You grab your moisturizer, fingers fumbling with the cap. A sharp tug and it goes flying out of your hands, clattering to the floor. 

"Fuck," you mutter, bracing yourself for a bout of instability as you bend down to retrieve it.

Before you can grab it, Spencer moves. He scoops it up, straightening with an ease that feels almost mocking. When you meet his eyes, they’re unfamiliar. It’s not the Spencer you know. Not the Spencer who covers your eyes during scary movies or kisses your forehead when you’re half-asleep. No, this Spencer feels distant, cold. 

"And I’m supposed to believe you’re not that drunk," he says flatly. Your chest tightens, a lump forming in your throat as heat flushes your face. He offers a hand as you steady yourself, trying to rise to your feet, but you brush him off, snatching the bottle from his grip with a bitterness you don’t try to mask. 

"What the hell is your problem?" you snap.

"My problem?" he repeats, incredulous. "I’m not the one blackout drunk on a Wednesday night."

"I’m not—"

"Would you—would you just stop!" he barks, the words sharp enough to make you flinch. "You’re slurring your words. You got the streets wrong. You couldn’t even get the damn moisturizer open," he snaps, gesturing toward you harshly with a mixture of frustration and exasperation.

Your knuckles whiten as you cling to the edge of the sink, unsure if you’re holding on for balance or just to keep from breaking. You spin back toward the mirror willing yourself not to cry. The frustration, the confusion, the ache in your chest—everything wells up at once.

"God, you’re being so—"

"So what?" he interrupts, his voice rising as he steps closer. His eyes bore into yours, daring you to say it. "So concerned? So worried? So—"

"So fucking mean!"

The silence that follows deafening. For a moment, he freezes, the hard edges of his expression softening into something else—shock, regret, guilt—but it’s fleeting.

"So what if I’m drunk?" Your voice cracks as the words tumble out, your frustration too overwhelming to contain. "And yeah, maybe—" You shake your head, swallowing the lump in your throat as you glare at him, "Maybe I’m slurring a little but forgive me for wanting a drink after the final I’ve been stressing over all fucking month."

He exhales sharply, running a hand through his hair, his frustration barely contained. "It’s not about you having a drink. It’s about you not knowing your limits—"

"Oh, for fucks sake," you interrupt, throwing your hands up. The movement makes you sway slightly, and you hate how it only seems to prove his point. "Newsflash, Spencer, I’m a university student. Sometimes we get drunk. You don’t get to make me feel like shit just because you don’t drink.”

You push past him, your shoulder grazing his as you move to sit on the edge of the bed. The mattress dips under your weight, and you grip the edge, willing the room to stop spinning.

"You were being reckless," he bites back, the word hanging heavy in the air. "You don’t see what I see. You’re out alone, you don’t—"

"I wasn’t alone," you say, your voice rising to meet his. "I had friends—"

"Yeah, friends who left you alone on a curb at 3am," he shoots back, cutting you off. The words land with precision, a calculated jab, but you refuse to flinch.

"Because you said you were on the way!" you fire back.

His voice is cold now, practically seething. "And what do you think would’ve happened if I hadn’t reached you just as that guy was coming on to you?"

"He was asking for the bus!" you shoot back, the words ringing out louder than you intended. You hate everything about this fight. You hate how unfamiliar he feels, hate the part of you that wonders if you’re the one who brought this out of him. "Nothing would’ve—"

Spencer’s expression darkens, his gaze narrowing. "Nothing?" He scoffs. "Tell that to Nina Radha. To Caroline Wrenley. To Mindy Denver. They were all ‘just waiting for a ride home’ last week. And now? All abducted. All dead." 

The room goes silent. Your chest tightens, and the fight drains out of you as his meaning sinks in. 

"You’re being cruel," your words are barely audible, trembling on the edge of your lips. The tears come faster now, streaking your face, but you don’t bother wiping them away. "Why—" you whisper, weak and watery, "Why are you being like this?" 

When Spencer finally turns to look at you, the sight of your tears stops him cold. They streak your face in uneven paths, and he feels something inside him splinter. Spencer never likes seeing you cry—he hates it, actually. It’s not just discomfort or unease; it’s a literal, physical ache. But knowing he’s the reason for your tears tonight? That’s pain in its most visceral form. It’s failure in its purest state.

"I—" he starts, his voice faltering. It cracks mid-sentence, and he stops, swallowing hard. His breath shudders as he exhales, trying to find the words, but all that comes out is a quiet, broken, "I was scared." 

Your tears have momentarily slowed, caught off guard by the sudden shift in his tone. The anger in his voice has faded, replaced by something softer, something raw—fear, tangled with guilt, with regret. He takes a tentative step closer, then hesitates, unsure of what to do. 

"I thought that… something could’ve happened to you, and I—I didn’t know how to handle it." 

After a moment, he lowers himself to your level, crouching in front of you. He lifts his hand, reaching out to wipe away the tears that stain your face. But the instant his fingers near you, you flinch, turning your head to avoid his touch. The movement is small, but Spencer’s heart shatters at the rejection all the same. He hates that he’s made you cry, hates that you won’t let him near you, hates that you won’t even look at him.

"I’m sorry," he says, the words low and weighted with sincerity. He knows it’s not enough, but it’s all he has left to give. 

Your tears fall, dripping onto your hands that rest limply in your lap. You shake your head, your shoulders tense, refusing to meet his eyes. The rejection stings, sharper than he expected, but he doesn’t blame you. He knows he deserves this. The room is still except for the sound of your quiet sniffles. 

Spencer tries again, his voice quieter now, almost pleading. "I just—" His breath catches as he exhales, his hand running through his hair in agitation, the movement more to calm himself than anything else. "When I saw you standing there alone—alone and with that man, I got scared. And I lashed out. I shouldn’t have. You didn’t— you didn’t deserve that."

The silence that follows is thick, but finally, you break it. Your voice is quiet, bitter. 

"I’m not them."

You’re still not meeting his eyes, still keeping that distance, but at least it’s something. 

"Those girls… I’m not them, Spencer."

"I know, I know. I was—", his voice is low, the regret weighing heavily on every syllable.

​​"That case was tough on you, I know it was," you interrupt, "And what happened to those girls, it was horrible. But I'm not them, Spence. I'm not…" Spencer watches helplessly as you furiously wipe away a tear from your cheek. 

"I'm not dead. I'm here."

“I was projecting, I—” His voice catches, “I shouldn’t have taken it out on you,” he admits quietly. You nod, grimly. Another single, heavy tear slips down your cheek and Spencer feels his heart break all over again. 

"I know you’re scared. How do you think I feel every time you go out into the field?" You take a deep breath, and say bitterly, "I get it." 

Each word is a struggle, but you say it with conviction. He can see how much you’re holding in, the effort it takes for you to keep your voice from cracking. 

You pause, swallowing hard as you steady yourself, "But you—You don’t get to talk to me like that." When your eyes meet his, they flash with both anger and sadness. "You don’t get to take that out on me." 

"I know, I—That was—I was being horrible, I was an ass," Spencer admits, his voice small. "You didn’t deserve that, honey. God, I’m just—I’m so, so, sorry." 

You look at him for a long moment, searching for any sign that he’s being sincere. All you see is regret, raw and heavy. And something else, something softer. Love. He reaches out, and this time you don’t pull away. Just getting to touch you is a brief, bittersweet, blinding relief. Spencer lets his fingers graze your cheek as he wipes away your tears gently, his thumb brushing over the wet path they’ve left behind. 

A soft, almost bitter laugh escapes you. "An ass is putting it lightly." 

Spencer’s chest tightens, a small breath of relief escaping him, though it’s quickly replaced with guilt. "M’so sorry sweetheart," he breathes out, comforted by the familiar bite in your tone. It lightens the air between you, just a little.

He shifts to sit next to you on the bed. "I didn’t—I really didn’t mean to," he says quietly. You rest your head on his shoulder, letting out a soft sigh, the fight slowly draining out of you. Spencer gently takes your hands, cradling them in his. 

"I—I never want to hurt you, never want to make you cry. Ever." Spencer's voice cracks slightly as he talks, fingers tracing your palm. "You know that, right?"

You nod, your voice small but steady. "I know."

Shifting, you tuck your legs beneath you, turning to face him fully. Your hands lift to cup his face gently, your thumbs brushing against the faint stubble on his jaw. The touch is tender, almost protective, as you guide his face to meet yours. His eyes can’t hold your gaze for long, shame clearly written across them.

"I was just—I was—" He stumbles over his words.

"Scared," you finish softly, filling the silence for him. 

"I—I’m sorry," Spencer’s voice falters, "I’m really sorry honey, I should’ve never—That was—"

Your hands guide his face back toward yours, coaxing him to meet your eyes. This time, he doesn’t resist, his breath shaky as he clings to the comfort you offer. "S’okay, baby. M’not mad anymore," you murmur.

"Sad?" he asks, his voice barely audible, like he’s afraid of what you’ll say.

"No," you smile faintly, shaking your head, "Not sad, baby," you whisper, leaning closer. Your thumb traces the curve of his cheek in silent reassurance. His shoulders relax just a little. "I just—" you sigh as you let out one last, quiet sniffle, "I really hate fighting." 

Carefully, he coaxes you into his lap, his arms wrapping around you. "Me too, honey," he says, his voice thick with emotion as he shifts closer. You don’t resist, letting your head rest in the crook of his neck, your breath warm against his skin.

"S’not nice," you murmur against him, your words muffled.

"I know, I know," Spencer whispers, his fingers tracing slow, soothing circles along your back. You let out a shaky sigh, sinking further into his embrace. “Was awful, wasn’t it?” he says, quietly.

"Mhm," you mumble quietly, your voice soft but pointed as you lean into his touch. "Made me cry," you say, looking at him through wet lashes to prove your point. Spencer thinks, for a split second, that he’d rather die than ever have to see you cry like that again. After a beat of quiet, he tilts his head just enough to press a soft kiss to your temple. 

"I love you, you know that?" 

You hum softly, nuzzling your face into his neck with a contented sigh, "Love you too."

"Love you so much, sweet girl," he says again, quieter this time, like it’s a truth meant only for you.

"Sap," you tease, lifting your head just enough to meet his gaze, the faintest hint of a smile on your lips.

Spencer grins, soft and boyish. "Always for you," he mumbles fondly, and before you can respond, he leans forward, pressing a playful kiss to the tip of your nose.

You stick your tongue out at him in mock protest, but he’s already chasing the moment. A kiss lands on your cheek. Then another on the other side. Each one dripping with easy affection. 

"Spence—" you laugh, the sound bubbling up. It spreads a warmth through Spencer’s chest. 

"My sweet girl," he says quietly, almost to himself. 

His smile only grows as he drinks in the sound of your giggles, tears long gone. He presses a fluttering series of kisses across your form until you’re laughing into his lips, each kiss softer than the last. 

One on your cheek, two on your shoulder, a thousand on your lips.

⋆✴︎˚｡⋆ hi if you're here! thank you for reading! feel free to like or reblog or comment or reply!

ᯓ★ song recs if you feel like it: false god by taylor swift moon river by frank ocean

[loganficsonly]

Logan smut where y/n and logan are basically insomniacs and hang out together in each others rooms in the middle of the night until one night they decide to break some tension👀 I’m talking friends to lovers and some rough kinky stuff

can't sleep love

trilogy!logan x f!reader, 5k WARNINGS/TAGS: SMUT MINORS PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT!!!, alcohol consumption, spanking, piv, creampie, public sex, mentions of reader's hair, friends to fuck-buddies to lovers (?), reader hasn't done it in a while, reader is a teacher with unspecified powers, slight grumpy x sunshine themes as i am wont to do... it's a reflex at this point, slight corruption?? like it's not even a kink lmao it's just FREAKYYY, a lot of logan's pov as usual, not proofread we die like senator kelly AUTHOR'S NOTE: you cooked with this ask, anon. i had to tweak it a little, hope you don't mind. also lowkey tipsy while writing this ehe

He didn’t realize this when he first got to the mansion. The moment he wasn’t snarling at every extended hand, he could see things more clearly. 

Ororo’s generosity and compassion. The unseen temper under Jean’s skin. How Scott is harder on himself than he is on others.

And then there’s you.

How everyone likes you. The softness in your gaze, the general ease about you, as if you weren’t also a mutant that people cast away. As if you never got hurt.

You are the opposite of him, and that’s what makes things awkward.

His face is nearly locked in a permanent scowl, while you smile at people effortlessly. Breeziness to his petulance. Clean cut to his rough edges. He feels like he shouldn’t be around you at all—like stepping into a prairie with bloodied boots on, afraid of crushing the daisies under his step and turning them red.

But proximity means he can’t not acknowledge you. What started out as polite nods in the hallway and short small talk when exchanging classrooms shifted into something more genuine.

As he finds safety within the mansion walls, he lowers his own. 

When exactly you became friends, he’s not quite sure. That would be akin to asking him on which day of the month spring turns to summer. You make it seem so natural, friendly as you are. Always warm—not the kind that is cloying or irritating, but one that’s ready to oblige, whether it’s sharing a pot of coffee for breakfast or staring off into the distance in the backyard.

Or training together, despite knowing you’d instantly have your back against the mat in a physical no-powers spar against him. God, you were so game, and he remembers how fun it was—something he hasn’t had in a long time. 

How the two of you laughed, yours louder than his, when an easy maneuver from him caused you to miss him and fall. He got you to yield multiple times after that first blunder, but you put up better fights with each round.

In the end, though, he got you breathless, sweat dripping down your brow. You were flushed.

“You got me,” you said with a smile, your tone airy and tired as you pushed your hair back. That was when he realized the color of your cheeks, and wished that he’d given you that rosy blush some other way.

…Okay, maybe he doesn’t know when exactly you became friends.

But that February day he trained with you, he realized he was looking at you the way friends didn’t.

You can’t sleep.

Resigning yourself to this fact, you sit up in bed. The past two hours or so of lying in it—counting sheep, doing breathing exercises, visualizing a still lake in the middle of nowhere—is evidence that tonight is going to be a restless one.

Trying not to be annoyed (that’s only going to make it harder to fall asleep), you slip out of your bedroom, not bothering to change out of your old T-shirt and shorts.

It’s warm, you think to yourself as you walk silently in the hallway. May is around the corner, but it feels like the temperature is hiking up more than it should for spring, especially at night. Maybe a glass of ice cold water is what you need. The thought of it makes you aware of the dryness of your throat.

A glow at the end of the hallway where the kitchen is. Someone’s up, too. You can feel your heart rate picking up as a little voice in your head hopes to find a certain someone who’s prone to being awake at this hour…

“Hey Logan,” you call, alerting him of your presence. His back is towards you, but you don’t need to know it’s him. You’re acquainted with how he fills up that gray tank top. He turns to look, not appearing the slightest bit surprised, heightened senses probably alerting him way before you arrived.

“Hey,” he replies, voice low and quiet, “why’re you up?” 

You move next to him, trying to get a glass from the top shelf. “Just can’t sleep.”

“Join the club,” he says, sipping on his drink.

Narrow eyes look at him while you fill your glass with water. He doesn’t reek, but there’s a sharp scent in the air. “Is that alcohol?”

A rogue smile from behind the rim. “Depends. You gonna snitch?”

You laugh quietly, shaking your head as you take a seat at the island, staring into a bowl of tropical fruits. This man and his contrabands.

“Not if you share your stash with me.”

He slides up to sit across the way. “Getting naughty, aren’tcha?”

You give him an unimpressed look that has him smirking, as if he won something. Gaze softening, your eyes roam his face, catching the paleness of his face and the slight dimness in his eyes. He looks tired.

“Another nightmare?” You venture quietly, not wanting to cross a line.

Logan’s expression hardens—you can tell from his jaw—and for a second you think he’s going to brush it off, or worse, leave.

A small nod as he downs more of the stuff in his opaque mug. You press your lips into a thin line, relieved he isn’t evading but displeased at the truth.

Having to helplessly hear your friend down the hall groaning in nightly terror is akin to torture. The Professor did a great job working on restoring his memories, and so did recent events at Alkali Lake, but the nightmares seem to remain. A stubborn remnant of the past.

When you first confronted him about it, he sternly demanded you to leave him be, fearing a replay of what he accidentally did to Rogue. You remember how terrified he was at the accident. 

“They’re not as bad now,” Logan's murmur cut the silence. He’s not meeting your gaze. You nod, quietly acknowledging his words, not knowing what else to do. 

You choose to place your hand over his, thumb stroking his knuckles. He feels a touch too cold.

Something flashes in his eyes. You don’t catch it, preoccupied with unmarred skin where claws would come out. He has nice hands.

“You gonna go back to sleep?” He asks.

Your answer is a noncommittal shrug as you make eye contact again. “You?”

His answer is a grunt. Something to the effect of unlikely, according to your Logan dictionary—a language you learned when he started opening up to you.

A string of words bubble in your throat. Maybe it’s a stroke of loneliness, but you think it’s mostly because it’s him who’s sitting in front of you.

It's him you want to spend time with.

“Want to hang out?”

Hazel eyes on yours make you feel more awake than ever. What you're asking is certainly pushing the boundaries of your relationship: keeping each other company past midnight, fresh off a bout of bad dreams and sleeplessness. You're not just being friendly to a colleague anymore.

When he doesn’t answer immediately, you add, not wanting to scare him away.

“You don’t have to talk about it. Your nightmare, I mean.”

He gets up. Your eyes are glued on his figure as he circles the island, and you’re still not sure what he’s doing until he gestures with his chin for you to come with, mug of alcohol still in hand. Biting the inside of your cheek, you follow.

That was the first time. The two of you sat on the living room couches for a while before Jones wandered in. The very young technopath is often sleepless as well. In this school for Gifted Youngsters, you’re not the only night owls around.

He had the cheek to ask if the two of you were having some kind of secret rendezvous.

“Who taught you that word?” Logan retorted, but the two of you dispersed anyway, feeling strangely like trespassers in the presence of little Jones as he flicked through the television channels silently.

You seek refuge in the backyard, but after a while, the bugs got much too annoying. The balcony wasn’t that much of a difference.

That’s how you ended up in his room for the first time. 

It was very simple on his part. “Want to go to my room?" He asked. Equally simple for you to say yes.

And that’s how he ended up in your room the next night.

The night after that, you're in his room again.

The two of you seek solace in each other’s quarters, escaping sleeplessness by talking to each other. Despite being in private, the conversation is hushed, like you’re afraid somebody could hear. Once there’s nothing left to talk about, you’d say good night and return to your rooms.

He occasionally brings his poison into these meet-ups, sharing some with you, until eventually he keeps part of his stash in your room. 

“You’re complicit now,” he teased.

It started out with the two of you sitting on the rug next to the bed, head tipped against the plush surface as you talk about all sorts of nonsense except for the reason you’re awake. Now, the two of you are comfortable enough to be in each other’s beds—platonically, of course.

Logan recalls the night you gave up being on the floor. You climbed into his bed, sitting languidly with your head propped above your hand like you were some kind of painting.

“Do you mind?” You asked that night, citing the need for relief in your back. He shook his head, eyes darkening at the sight of you on his bedsheets.

The things you wear to go to sleep. Lord, help him. As summer begins to inch closer, Logan notices how your pajamas begin to shrink. T-shirts become tank tops. Shorts turned into short shorts, your legs on full display. Logan remembers a time you opened the door to your room, wearing a baby blue pair that looked so soft and a tank top that betrays the curves of your chest—he felt his mouth water.

It’s damn near impossible to separate the comfort of your company from the carnal want in his adamantium bones. He doesn’t mean to defile your so-far-wholesome nightly conversations, but he can’t help it. And he has a feeling that you’re not entirely oblivious to the tension, either, what with the way he catches your gaze dropping to his exposed biceps every now and then.

Like tonight. You’re sipping on some Tennessee whiskey from his stash, lovely eyes dropping to his hand enclosed over a mug before expertly meeting his hazel ones in the low light of your room.

Maybe you don’t realize you’re looking at him. Maybe you do, and you don’t realize he’s fully aware of your gaze. 

Either way, it’s taking a lot not to pull you into him and take a bite out of you.

He fights the urge with every fiber of decency in him. Yes, he’s the Wolverine, animal mutation intertwined with his own DNA, but he wouldn’t be here if not for your shared trust and vulnerability. You’re probably his closest friend at the Institute. Maybe ever, a little voice whispers. 

Tonight, the two of you are in bed. Your bed, to be precise. He’s come to memorize the scent of you, all the notes of it, and even after paying many visits to this sacred place, he still finds it intoxicating. You started playing a boozy version of ‘never have I ever’ about ten minutes ago, despite his initial complaints—the two of you have long drained deep conversations and are left with the dregs, it seems.

He doesn’t like the game, but credits it for what it’s worth. It lets him see glimpses of you he hasn’t seen before, while making you drink with stupid statements like “never have I ever worn a dress”.

“Your turn,” he says. He’s lying next to you, stealing a glance at you while you look up at the ceiling.

You hum, thinking. A sentence brews in your head. Hopefully this one wouldn’t be too weird? The two of you ventured quickly into sexual territory almost as soon as the game started, but it was mostly trying to get each other to drink with cheap shots.

You try to think of something less… risqué, but it’s too late. The thought is stuck.

He looks at you expectantly. You look into your cup. It’s nearly empty, but you feel strangely sober. You gather your voice—the last thing you want is to sound pathetic.

“Never have I ever… had an orgasm by someone other than myself.”

He’s supposed to drink, but you delivered that semi-truck of a sentence with the stability of a weatherman declaring all sun and shine for the entire week.

When you look over at him, he looks almost mad that you’re afraid you’d offended him somehow.

“You should drink—”

“No one’s ever made you come?” 

The weight of his question hit you, and the way he worded it makes you flush a little. Was it too weird to say that after all, in a ‘never have I ever’? You shake your head as a wordless answer. 

“Jesus, what kind of assholes did you hook up with?” He asks, face contorting, eyes glued to yours. You stop breathing for the second you see a simmering anger. He really was mad.

“I… didn’t hook up a lot,” you offer tentatively, though you aren’t lying. Life was largely unpredictable, especially as a mutant. Exploring your sexuality with another person becomes a privilege, a luxury that was fundamentally inaccessible when it’s already difficult to find people to trust. By the time you arrived at Xavier’s, your time was devoted to serving and educating others.

There is a single moment of quiet as you see Logan appearing to calm down, though the intensity of his stare doesn’t let up. 

In a smooth movement, he places his cup by the nightstand before taking yours out of your hands, doing the same, not breaking eye contact. You don’t exactly know how he got on top of you, his large palm on your jaw making sure you look up at him. Darkening eyes flicker down to your lips, a thumb pressing down and parting them ever so slightly. Your heart nearly stops.

“Want me to show you?” He asks, voice deep as he hovers over you. He can’t stop himself. How could he, when he knows he can take you to heights unimaginable—when he wants to, so badly? The things he wants to do to you, the thoughts that plague him as a sinful substitute to his nightmares, they all flash in his mind’s eye for half a second. 

His sense of control frays to a single thread.

You look up at him with half-lidded eyes. The hazy warmth clouding you might be just the whiskey’s doing, but that's a lie. This is something else that’s been brewing for a while. Perhaps since that time in the kitchen when you put your hand on top of his.

Perhaps even before that.

Steeling yourself, you nod at his question. He groans, lips against your ear. That alone makes you shiver.

“Ah—”

He says your name sternly. “Words. Tell me you want this.”

He doesn’t part, can't. He takes your earlobe in his mouth. You let out a soft moan. 

“Logan, want you…”

It’s enough for him to snap, his lips pulling away from your ear before crashing against yours in a wild kiss. Your breath hitches, hands flying to his shoulders as he devours you, teeth almost clashing in a storm of desperation. You’re dizzy as he latches onto your neck, hands traversing your body like he’ll die if he doesn’t feel you. 

To a certain degree he feels like he’ll die either way. The outline of your chest over your light tank top, the plump flesh of your thighs, they’ve occupied too much of his mind for him to act like this is just some other conquest. With every brush of his hand against your skin, he stokes the primal part of him, the beast purring, pleased but wanting more. 

Meanwhile, a fog takes over you, lowers your inhibitions as Logan continues to touch and grope, moving you against some pillows until you’re sitting up slightly. A quiet noise escapes you when you feel his teeth sink into your neck, leaving the first of many marks as a hand moves up under your tank top. Dancing past ribs, reaching your chest.

“Oh, God,” you sigh as calloused fingers pinch your nipple. Pulling. Circling. He growls against your skin, letting go so he can watch the outline of his hand under the fabric of your top.

“When was the last time someone touched you, sweetheart?”

You look back at him, the nickname making your head spin as you attempt to find the right answer.

“I don’t know, a while,” you pant.

“Yeah, can tell,” he rasps as he paws at your shirt. “Need to take this off.”

When he does, you shiver, both at the initial hit of cool air on your skin as well as the way he stares at your bare, heaving chest. He’s studying you, the way your nipples harden as he brushes a finger against it. His other hand keeps yours above your head, a loose grip on both your wrists.

“So fucking pretty…” He murmurs, sitting between your legs as he watches your face while his fingers toy with your chest. The measured movements are nearly criminal. You bite your lip, trying not to make so much noise at this dead of night, but it’s hard when he’s looking at you like a man starved.

Like he’s wanted this for a while.

He lets go of your wrists to prop himself up over you, lips descending to your collarbone, then sternum. Then, slowly, as if to give you space to say no, his warm breath is over your chest, and your hands are flying to his shoulders. A wordless response, telling him you want this just as much.

His eyes are already pinned on your face when he latches his mouth to your nipple. A sound of pleasure escapes you.

“Ha-ah—Logan,” you pant, unable to take your eyes off him.

Tongue works on a hardened peak, sucking and nibbling with just an edge of roughness to distract from the hand snaking down your body while his mouth switches to your other breast. Your eyes widen, feeling him cup you through your shorts before fingers easily find their way in, circling your dampening panties.

A hum around your nipple when his hand is fully underneath your shorts. You arch, eyelids fluttering close as his thumb brush against your clothed clit.

“God, you’re so wet, sweetheart. For me, hmm?" He leaves a languid stroke over the gusset of your underwear, groaning at the feel of your cunt, the way the fabric sticking to your flesh accentuating the shape of you.

It doesn’t take long till he has you completely naked under him, sleeping clothes forgotten somewhere on the bedroom floor while he’s two fingers deep in your pussy, his other hand on your thigh, keeping you open. You cling onto his back as he pumps steadily into you, drinking in every single shift in your expression.

When he hits a spongy spot in you, somewhere your fingers could never reach, you cry out, forgetting your attempts to maintain the quiet of the night. 

He grins.

“You like it here, pretty?” 

His thick digits move in and out of you more fervently, eager to exploit your sensitive spots. He knows he’s doing a good job because your responses are becoming less verbal, unintelligible noises escaping you, eyes glossed over as they stare into his.

You’re slipping into an abyss of pleasure, the wet sounds of your juices as his fingers plunge into your core making it impossible for you to think. How did you get here? What were you doing before this? Do you really care, when Logan is whispering filthy things against your ear, your slick coating his fingers, dripping down his hand?

“You hear that?” A loud squelch as he sinks in. “That’s your pussy making that sound. Taking my fingers so damn well, sweetheart.”

Electricity zaps down your spine as he brushes a different spot, making your eyes nearly roll back. He watches, stills, then drives into it again.

Your hand flies to your mouth to muffle the cry that you can’t help but let out as he exploits your body, but his other hand shoots out quickly, caging your wrist by the side of your head. 

“Don't hide those noises,” he groans. “Wanna hear you when you come. You’re close, huh?”

“P-please—”

Hips begin to buck, a soft stream of noises escaping you as he plunges his fingers faster. Your heavy breathing tangles with his as you feel the knot in your belly threatening to unravel. Fingers try to warn him of your impending release, digging crescent moons onto his back that disappear as soon as they form.

When you come, it’s a silent scream. He watches you climax, admiring the way your body shivers and spasms, quietly growling at the sensation of your cunt squeezing him in. His ego preens, basking in the fact that he is the first man to make you orgasm.

His fingers are soaked when he pulls them out, dripping on the sheets, and he makes sure that you’re watching when he sticks them in his mouth.

One lick. They emerge clean. 

“Tastes so good,” he growls, and before long his face is between your legs, hands pushing them open for him.

He makes you come on his tongue once before putting his cock in you.

The sight of it makes your stomach churn. There’s a reason he acts so cocky, and the reason is the thing he’s pushing into your core, girthy and veiny and ready. He looks down, unable to take his eyes off the debauched scene of your cunt swallowing him whole. 

“Oh, fuck,” he sputters, feeling your plush walls suck him in, voice wavering just a touch. “So fucking tight.”

You mewl, gripping his biceps as his hands hold onto your hips, making sure you stay still. It’s a little while until he’s all the way in. You feel so incredibly full, as if he’s up against your stomach, big and pulsing with heat. It’s overwhelming. Almost painful. Would be, if he didn’t prepare you as much—considering how long it’s been for you, it’s a wonder he even fit.

“Does it hurt?”

“No, just need to… get used to you,” you whisper, hands on his shoulders.

He looks down at you, eyes boring into yours. His jaw is set with restraint, face contorted with pleasure as he feels you cling to him. Chest heaving, you take deep breaths. Not long after, the immense stretch of his cock stirs a want within you, enough for you to tell him.

“Can you move?” You ask softly. He lets out a strained laugh.

“Can I?” He growls. “Been dying to, baby.”

The first time he pulls away slightly, only to slide back into your heat, the two of you moan. 

“Oh my God,” you gasp, the friction making your head tip back. His eyes flash with wanton determination, arms by the sides of your head, bracing before he moves his hips. Slowly at first, thrusts shallow. 

Your hands snake up his arms, caressing his shoulders and moving down to his chest. His heart is hammering under your palm, the very pulse that you feel in your core from his thick length. He gradually moves out of you more before sheathing all the way back in.

It’s like he’s trying to get you to memorize the shape of him.

And you do—your body does, cunt swallowing him easily. He looks down where you’re joined, licking his lips at the way you’re absolutely drenching him.

“More?” He asks, slightly breathless. You nod.

He shifts. You move your arms to wrap around his neck, anticipation coiling at the bottom of your gut.

Then he fucks you, slow but harder at first, faster and wilder afterwards, pounding your brains out. You’re a moaning mess, fingers scratching down his back. He thrusts, filling you up completely to make you a vessel for only pleasure—pleasure he’s giving you. Sounds of flesh slapping against flesh echo in the room, a constant staccato over his grunts and your whines.

You come with a gasp of his name not long after he places your legs on his shoulders, plundering the deepest parts of you. He follows soon after, hot spurts of release on your stomach, oozing out of him almost endlessly. It slowly drips down to your mound, as if marking you his.

A sight he’s not going to forget anytime soon.

If Charles so much as brushes your minds with his powers, the two of you would be fired on the spot for indecency.

That first time did nothing to quench your shared hunger. It worsened it. And not just because the two of you always had the best sleep after sex.

Both he and you find it difficult to exercise restraint. It was mainly you who tried, wanting to be decent in an environment filled with children, but you soon gave up thanks to his diligent temptations. You don’t understand how a simple look from him can be so full of explicit promises. 

As for Logan, he thoroughly enjoys stripping you of your steadfast propriety with every visit he pays to your bedroom, taking you in all of the ways he imagines. He thanks whatever God is out there for the fact that there are empty rooms between your quarters and the next occupied one, and that no one gets to hear the beautiful cries that escape you. Your little “ah, yes,”es and “Logan, please”s are for him alone. 

It’s dangerous, is what it is. You occupy every nook and cranny of his brain like some kind of drug. Smoking his cigar in the backyard of the mansion between classes, his mind easily turns to you.

In particular, the bounce of your breasts as you rode him, face red and thoroughly fucked out, a bit of drool escaping the side of your lips as his large hands on your waist helped you move up and down his cock. 

“Logan, so big,” you whimpered, head lolling to one side. He called you his good girl then for taking him so well, one hand moving to tuck your hair behind your ear.

He grunts, feeling the obvious discomfort in his jeans. Seven minutes to kill that boner before his next class.

Neither of you remember how it began, but your surreptitious activities spilled outside the privacy of the night and into broad daylight. He starts to take you in the mornings, too, gentle and slow, basking in how husky your voice sounds after a night of doing the same deed. How could you resist, when you wake up in his arms under the sheets, warm and comfortable? 

And then it slowly seeps outside of the bedroom.

The brush of his hand down your arm when you pass each other in the hallway. Your lips innocently pressed against his knuckle. A kiss that’s a second too long. 

Seemingly chaste encounters quickly turn into wicked ones.

Once, most of the children are out for a day of sports under a blue sky. Logan dragged you into an empty classroom and bent you over the teacher’s desk, hand shoved up your sundress. He pulled your lace panties to one side, making you wet with his fingers. 

“Look so good like this,” he rasped into your ear as he finally took you from behind, a hand against your mouth to muffle your moans, smearing your lip gloss, the other gripping the flesh of your ass. A resounding smack and a moan follows—yours, as you feel your skin burn pleasurably from his hand.

At this point you’ve been doing it so much that you started taking the pill—something he’s eternally grateful for, because it lets him spill his cum inside of you, filling you up to the brim. He loved watching it leak out of you, only to use his finger to push it back in, plugging you full before pulling your panties up.  

“Want you to think of me all day, pretty,” he pressed a kiss on your temple as you slowed down your breathing, “want you to remember who’s got you filled up. Whose cum is it inside you, princess?”  

“Yours, Logan,” you mewled weakly in response, knees shaking.

It’s not like the others don’t know that there’s something between the two of you—they just don’t know the extent of it. How much of your bodies are intertwined.

How he owns you, and you him.

Evidenced by the way you still talk like you used to. Yes, most of the talking has been replaced with fucking, but sentiments of friendship remain. It remains in the way he’ll save coffee from the pot for you in the morning, in the way you’ll sit with him in the backyard and stare into the distance.

Things you did in the very beginning. 

And when he catches a glimpse of you in the hallway after class, saying something to your students that makes them laugh out loud, a different feeling emerges in his chest. It’s tight, like a string wrapped around his heart and pulled taut for a second or two. A feeling that makes him weak in the knees.

A feeling he knows can be spelled out with four letters.

He exhales a shaky breath, feet frozen in place with realization, though it’s not a surprise.

If anything, it feels like it’s been there the entire time, waiting for the right moment to ensnare his reality with the finality of it. As his gaze softens, watching you give high-fives to your younger students, he knows there’s no escape.

What started as a cure to one condition is turning into another of a much deadlier caliber. 

This one, he doesn’t mind being sick with.

Maybe he’ll tell you tonight, before bed.

i spent so long working on this it's not even funnyyy lol

divider by cafekitsune. thank you!

[kurikive]

sticky | kim minji

things between you and minji are... sticky this summer.

— childhood friends to lovers, summer trip, soccer player!reader, slowish burn, lowkey bromance, futchish READER 💜

contains : cursing, kinda slight makeoutism, a lot of bro and dude, just a little bit of angst but i promise its literally nothing, NOT proofread at all i am tireeeddd

wc: 13.7k words

inspired by : Sticky — KISS OF LIFE

You're not really sure how you got here.

You’re watching the sunset at the beach with Kim Minji, your hand in between hers and the sand below you, your face two inches from her own, your lips two seconds away from colliding.

Actually, let's rewind.

It’s summer! It's been 3 long years of being away in Seoul. A soccer scholarship was always great, and you were having a fantastic time with your teammates and classmates, but you were completely burnt out after these exhausting last 6 months.

Korea University Anam Tigers proudly win 3rd place in the U-League for the first half of the season. 5 wins, 2 draws, 3 losses. Not too bad. You did better last year, but you're sure you'll recover and bounce back during the second half. Or maybe it was the alcohol and smell of grilled beef that was making you emotional.

After you finalize your amazing speech with a broken voice and a tear threatening to leave your eye, you realize you're actually quite drunk. The applause of your teammates startles you, and they may be mocking your sentimental state with their laughs and ‘aww’s and teasing pushes, but they cheer you on anyway.

“Han Y/N!” One of your teammates, Hsu Nientsu, also pretty tipsy, nudges your left arm as you sit back down, “Don't get so sensitive with us now!”

“Our Y/Nie gets emotional when drunk, huh?” Central striker Ahn Yujin, leader of the team, pinches one of your red cheeks from across the table, action to which you groan at.

“I just…” You sigh, drowsy and teary eyes block your vision yet you can still tell all your teammates are looking at you. “I really love our team and want us to do our best…” You make a mental note to never get drunk with your team again when they coo at you for a second time.

“Well then,” Oh Haewon starts pouring you another shot (she usually would make you pour it yourself, but your flimsy arms and hung head bring out the instinct to take care of you instead), “Let's climb up the leaderboard for Leftie!” She declares as she leaves the small glass of soju on your side of the table.

You hate the nickname. Nientsu came up with it the first year of your scholarship because when you were supposed to be in central midfield you spent most of your time on the left side of the field, for some reason. Her broken Korean and teasing nature muttered the name in an attempt to mock you and everyone started repeating after. You can't complain much about it. It stuck too well.

You take the shot and grimace at the bitter taste of alcohol. You're still not used to it even after countless team dinners.

Won Haneul, your roommate, best friend and goalkeeper, laughs at your expression. The other girls have already picked up their own conversation, yet she seems very entertained at your drunken state, “Unnie, are you sure you don't want to go?” You've told her multiple times to drop the formalities, it's a one year difference; she keeps refusing.

You look to your right and you (hardly) see her looking at you worried, but still smiling. It takes a couple seconds for you to process her words. “I… I think I should go.” You slur, you're sure you'll die if you take another shot.

Haneul nods, understanding as always. “Guys, I think me and Y/N unnie are gonna head back now!” You hear your teammates complain and whine but you can't make out anything they're saying.

“I'm too drunk!” You try your best to scold them, “And I have my last class tomorrow…”

A soccer scholarship didn't mean you were just in Seoul to play soccer and get drunk with your friends. You also had to study and attend classes, like everyone else. Maybe you would've had it easier if you had chosen Physical Education as your major. But no, you had chosen Media and Communication for some reason.

At least it was the last class before break.

“Go then! Quick! Get away!” You hear Jung Sunhye drunkenly shoo you two away. It makes you giggle. You wave goodbye to your teammates with your frail arms, it makes you look like a car rental inflatable. You hear a chorus of ‘sleep well’s and ‘Bye Y/N’s.

Haneul holds you as you walk out of the BBQ place, and then a cold wave of air hits you right when you realize you have to go up the hill to get to your dorm. You don't know if the chill you get in your spine is from the cool late night air or the dread of borderline hiking while drunk.

“Haneul, I'm sorry.” You don't even want to look at her in fear of getting dizzy. You're only a few steps up the hill but you're already breathing a little heavy. However, your apologetic expression is enough for her to understand your feelings.

“It's okay, unnie!” She's such a joy to have around not only as a teammate but as a friend. You hope her kindness never leads her to getting taken advantage of. You and the other girls would ruin the life of whoever could even dare.

“I'm really grateful for you, y’know?” You probably shouldn't talk while you're rapidly growing out of breath, but you're already sentimental.

“I'm flattered.” She says with a light laugh while pushing you from behind, making it easier for you to walk upwards.

“Are you going back to Suwon this summer?” You ask after a while of more heavy steps. Haneul had also gotten a scholarship and moved from Suwon to Seoul, therefore getting to be roommates with you.

“Mhm! Gonna go see my parents.” Her voice turns a little softer and you notice even when you're mostly out of your conscious mind. “What about you, unnie? Are you gonna stay here?”

It's been three years since you left your hometown and replaced the ocean with the river. Three years since you left your friends behind. Three years since leaving your mom and dad.

Of course you missed them. How could you not? It's not like you were avoiding them, the last summers were just filled to the brim with practice and studying and everything got tangled and you didn't even leave time for yourself.

That's over, though. You can already see yourself on the shore.

And then you're at the bus terminal. Hands shaky and heavy steps, just like the ones you took walking up the hill of your dorm building. You carry your backpack at your front and hold your gym bag on your left hand. You wait in line to step inside your bus and you think you're ready to fall asleep for the whole ride.

But once you're settled in your seat, your thoughts leave you restless.

There's a fear in the back of your mind that your friends will treat you differently when you arrive.

You've been gone for 3 years, and you talk slightly less now. But the group chat is still active, and you talk with them when you're allowed the time to. It's not like you've gone completely radio silent and disappeared from their lives.

It's just scary to be back.

But the scariest thing by far is the fear of being proven wrong. The fear of still liking her.

See, ever since you were a kid running around with a ball between your feet, you've had a crush on Kim Minji.

Neighborhood pretty girl. Class president in elementary, middle and high school. Best grades in your year. The most crushable girl ever.

You remember the first day you met her. You actually think about it a lot.

You were 7, playing soccer with your friend Gyuvin on the beach at sunset hours. There was no real goal to kick the ball towards, you were just trying to steal the ball from each other and keep it as long as possible. But then Gyuvin gets a little too close to taking the ball, and in panic you pass it to your right. 

But there's no one to your right. And you realize you've just kicked it towards three girls about your same age building a sandcastle.

You see the ball roll away further and further away from you and Gyuvin, and closer and closer to the castle, and the girls don't seem to notice.

You don't know why you're frozen. You could've stopped the ball by now if you had run after it. Gyuvin notices your lack of movement and becomes the one who shouts instead, “BALL!”

It seems to wake both the girls and you up from your daze, and suddenly you're running as fast as you can to catch the ball before it collides with the sand clump. And you manage to catch it.

You had thrown yourself into the sand, and the ball gets stopped by your arms. But your head crashes into the sandcastle instead. It doesn't collapse completely, and it didn't hurt that much, but it suddenly knocked you out for a few seconds.

You hear Gyuvin’s voice behind you when your mind is back in its place. “We're really sorry! We'll help you patch it back up!” You shake of the sand from your head when you sit back up, and you can finally take a good look at the three girls.

They looked pissed.

The smallest of the girls speaks, “I guess you can help. You're lucky it didn't fall on your head.” She points at you and you feel guilt engulf your cheeks with its warmth.

“Great!” Your friend helps you shake off some of the remaining sand off of your head, “Let's get to work, Y/N!”

You're confused at his enthusiasm, you were just playing soccer with him a few seconds ago and now he wants to build a sandcastle with some girls you just met? “But… we were-”

Gyuvin cuts you off, “It's the least we can do. We almost destroyed it.” It makes sense, but you're still a little reluctant. You grab a shovel anyways.

Your friend is already introducing himself when you start digging a hole into the sand, “I'm Kim Gyuvin! What are your names?”

The short girl with short hair that spoke to you before is the first one to answer, “I'm Hanni Pham! I'm from Australia but we moved here a year ago.”

“Your parents like fish, huh?” The boy's joke makes Hanni's mouth open wide and her eyes dilate a good amount.

“How did you know?!”

“I'm Seol Yoona.” Says a girl with a voice so quiet you have to ask Gyuvin what her name was right after she said it, “What did she say?”

“Seol Yoona.” He repeats, and you get back to digging with a nod, not before you give an apologetic smile to the girl.

The last girl introduces herself, “I'm Kim Minji.” You notice three things about her. Her voice is deeper than the other two girls, her eyebrows are really pretty, and she's wearing a blue clip on her hair.

All three of the girls are pretty, but if Gyuvin asks you later who you thought was the prettiest you are sure you'll say Minji.

Said girl notices you've been doing nothing but dig since you started introducing yourselves. “What's the hole for?” She says.

“I'm gonna put water in it to make wet sand. It's going to make it easier to build and harder to collapse.” And right after you say that you stand up, bucket in hand, ready to go and fetch water from the shining ocean behind you.

But just as you're about to go, the girl with the pretty eyebrows calls out again, “What's your name? You never told us.” Right.

“Han Y/N.” You tell her with a smile.

“Han Y/N.” She repeats your name back to you, like you're not supposed to know it already. It sounds pretty coming from her. 

The sunset glow crashes in the sea and bounces back into the eyes of the girl. You see them glisten as she looks into yours. Your heart starts beating as fast as it was when you were running around earlier.

“Don’t ever play soccer near my sandcastles.”

You look like an idiot, laughing by yourself in your seat. It's already night when you feel the bus stop in its tracks. You realize it's slightly warmer than when you departed, even at these hours of the night.

You're here. And you're not laughing anymore.

Everything you dread is getting closer by the second, and you don't want to face it.

It's been three years since the last time you saw your friends, since you saw Minji. Three years of only speaking to her in the group chat. Three years of believing you've gotten over her when in reality you were just getting distracted.

Because if you had truly moved on you wouldn't be worrying about moving on.

You step out of your bus and smell the scent of the ocean. Your worries fade away for the rest of the night. You'll worry about that tomorrow.

You're home.

It’s around 10:30 P.M. Knowing your parents they wouldn’t be asleep right now. They’re probably watching replays of soccer matches or some strange animal documentary. Even after three years you can tread lightly towards your home. Not much has changed.

The street lights are dim, and the wooden floor boards of the port are not much louder than the last time they squeaked beneath your feet. You take a picture of the moon watching over the dancing waves, then keep walking.

You wish you don’t run into any of your friends on the way to your house. It’s not like you don’t want to see them, but it’s late, and you couldn’t catch even a wink of sleep the whole ride. You just want to see your parents and sleep in between the warmth of their bodies like you did when you were just a kid. You chuckle at the memory.

You step into your neighborhood. Most of the lights are turned off, but you can hear a couple of things as you walk deeper into the block. Crickets, waves, and a couple different TV stations. 

You get closer to the neighboring house from yours. Gyuvin’s house. The lights in the first floor are off, but there’s a dim light coming from the window of the bedroom facing the street. It (probably still) belonged to Gyuvin himself. You don’t really know what he’s doing at this hour of the night, but you won’t bother him right now, even when you get the urge to text him something like ‘look out ur window’.

You hear the voice of a commentator from outside the door of your house. They were watching replays. Knew it. You think about what to do next. It’ll be too loud if you ring the doorbell, Gyuvin might notice you’re here and come around to investigate, And then you get a sudden, bright idea.

You set your gym bag on the ground and start typing your mom’s number to call her, clicking on her contact when it shows up. You take a big breath and wait for her to answer, it doesn’t take her long.

“Hello, baby! What’s going on?” There’s a twinge of worry in her voice but she always answers so happily when you call her. You chuckle deviously, mischief is about to begin.

“Hi mama! I sent you guys a surprise, I’m calling to make sure if the package arrived safely. Sorry about the time, by the way.” You try to mask the smile appearing on your lips as you talk.

“A package?” She seems confused, “I.. We didn’t get anything.” She sounds a little more concerned.

“Really? Can you check the door? Maybe it came late.”

“I don’t think it’d come this late, darling.”

“Just check, ma. Please.” You hang up. You feel a little sorry for leaving your mother bothered and confused, but you try to telepathically tell her it’ll be worth it.

Your heartbeat starts picking up its pace when you hear the door unlock. You put your phone in your pocket and pick your bag up again.

 When the door opens, the first thing you notice is your mom’s disheveled hair, probably from laying on the couch and watching TV. The second thing you notice is that her eyes immediately fall on the doorstep, and she frowns when she finds nothing. The third thing you notice is that, even before she realizes you’re there, she’s already taking out her phone to call you again, but she sees a pair of shoes in front of her before she gets around to doing that.

Her eyes travel from your old sneakers to the top of your head, and then they fall back at your face. Her jaw drops and her eyes look like they hold the moonlight in them when she realizes it’s actually you.

“Y/Nie…” She’s a little breathless when she says your name, and you laugh at the sound of rustling behind her. Your dad probably heard her.

“Hello!” You simply greet. Your father appears shortly behind your mother and you send a wave at him when you see he’s making the exact same expression as her. “Am I going to be outside all night? That’s how you greet your daughter?”

Your mother throws herself at you with a hearty laugh, it makes you happy too. “When did you get here?!” She asks, a little too loud for your liking, but you won’t complain. You pull away to greet your dad, who was frozen on the doorframe.

“Just now, actually.” Your father is in shock, but he does his best to hug you back, and the hug gets tighter when he finally understands it’s really his daughter. You giggle a little at his lack of words, then tap his back a little rougher when you start struggling to breathe, “Hey! Not so tight!”

He lets go and you hear him laugh more calmly now. “Let’s go in. Gyuvin doesn’t know I’m here yet and I want to surprise him tomorrow.” Your mom closes the door behind you, and then hits you on the back, quite roughly for your taste.

“How dare you not tell us you were coming?!” She rubs the same spot where she hit you when she hears you hiss at the pain, “It was a surprise!” You argue.

“Did you have dinner?” Your dad asks already in the kitchen, and your stomach growls even before you can respond. You giggle shyly at the noise, “I’ll take that as a no.” He says, “Go sit with your mom and watch TV with her. I’ll heat up something.”

“Oh, we’re not watching anything. You’re gonna tell me everything you’ve been doing.” Your mother taps the seat beside her on the couch, which you gladly take. “How was the season?”

You’re so happy to be back.

You wake up with the sunrise.

You fully expected to open your eyes and be hugging your mom while your dad was already up in the kitchen. And that did happen, except you wake up with your back sore from falling asleep on the couch. Your dad is in the kitchen, making breakfast for you three.

You rub your eyes and yawn. It wasn’t that late, you woke up pretty early actually. 8:27 A.M. Maybe it’s because your body is used to waking up early. Your dad looks back at you and laughs at your messy hair, smiles brighter when he sees one of your mom’s arms sticking out of the couch. “Rise and shine!” He says brightly.

“Morning…” The sound of your croaky voice seems to wake up your mom, as she’s already rubbing her face.

“Smells good.” She says in the same tone as you. “Is it almost done?”

“I just finished. Come take a seat.” Your dad turns off the gas from the stove. The scent of kimchi jjigae fills your home, and it makes you feel a lot more energized even before having a taste of it.

You run your hand through your hair to try and make it more presentable. Your mother goes up to your dad to ask for a taste, he waits for her approval. You start setting the cutlery and it makes you think of the mornings before school, but rather than getting sentimental, you enjoy the moment with a smile.

“Y/Nie, do you want apple juice?” Your mom asks with the fridge open, you just nod as you sit down.

When the three of you sit down to finally eat, you start to realize how much you actually missed this. You spent your mornings in Seoul either eating a quick and not-really-filling meal, or eating an energy bar and a vending machine kimbap with your teammates before practice. You don’t remember the last time you had a hearty breakfast.

The sound of laughter and birds chirping combined with the smell of a home cooked meal and the warmth of a seaside morning couldn’t compare to any of the emotions that crossed your heart whenever you won a match. 

Your mom and dad gossip to you about your neighbors and everything you missed while you were away.

You don’t find it hard to believe when they tell you that the weird old man that used to drink his nights away at the port got arrested. One of your neighbors' sons dropped out of college to be a model, Kim Sunoo apparently. Good for him, you always thought he had a pretty face.

Supposedly, Minji keeps her title as the number 1 student even in college. You’re not surprised, but you do feel full all of a sudden. There’s just a little bit of stew left when you groan, “Ah… I’m full…”

Your mom raises an eyebrow, “Already?” She looks at your bowl and laughs, “Nevermind, you finished pretty fast.”

“Do you eat well in Seoul?” Your dad asks. You feel a little flustered at the question and stutter when you answer, “I mean… not in the morning, but I eat pretty healthily the rest of the day. Me and Haneul prepare meals when we have afternoon practice. I’d say we’re pretty good cooks.”

Your parents laugh, “I guess we’ll put you to the test one day.” Your mom nudges you, “And it’s ‘Haneul and I’, by the way.”

The correction makes your eyes roll as you stand up to wash your dishes, “Yeah, yeah, grammar queen. I’m gonna go take a shower and go to Gyuvin’s to surprise him, ‘kay?”

“Aye aye, captain!” Either your parents planned to do the same move and say the same thing at the same time beforehand, or they’re literal soulmates.

You get out of the shower and choose a simple outfit- some baggy, ripped jeans and a graphic tee that you found in your closet (you asked your mom if it was clean enough for you to wear, considering the closet looked a little dusty; she said it was fine). The shirt felt a little tight around the arms and it was quite smaller than you expected, but it wasn’t uncomfortable at all. If anything it made the outfit more interesting.

So you stand outside your friend's house, with nothing in your hands but a smile on your face. You’re not really sure if it’ll be him or his mom answering the door, but you hope either of them will be happy to see you.

You ring the doorbell, and immediately hear footsteps get closer from inside. You don’t know if your heart is going to race everytime this happens, but you just hope you get used to the feeling. The door opens and you're met with a familiar face, Ms. Kim, Gyuvin’s mom, dressed up and ready to go to work. It’s summer, though?

“Y/Nie?” She looks delighted to see you, and yet quite surprised. “You came back!”

You give her a bright smile after you bow in respect, “Good morning, Ms. Kim! How have you been?” 

She steps back in a manner to invite you inside, “Oh, I’ve been well, dear. Gyuvin told me you weren’t able to visit these past years. We all missed you very much.” Her words surprise you, and you feel a little guilt squeezing your heart for two seconds.

“I’m glad to hear that, Ms.” She walks around the kitchen, packing what seems to be a lunchbox into her bag, yet still giving you her full attention. “Are you heading to work?” You ask curiously.

“Oh, yeah.” She looks a little agitated, “They don’t give me breaks, baby. I work for the news now!”

“Oh! How has that been going?”

She stops in her tracks, “Honestly, quite great.” She says, and you both laugh together. “Does Gyuvin know you’re here? I imagine he’s who you came to see.”

“He doesn’t.” The woman looks quite surprised. “I wanted to surprise him. I arrived just yesterday.”

“Oh honey, you’re gonna give him a heart attack.” She laughs and you chuckle, “I hope not!” You say,

“He’s in his room. He’s probably still asleep, but he’ll wake up if you knock hard enough. Make sure he doesn’t think you’re me, then he won’t get up.” The woman unlocks the door, coat hanging from her arm and bag over her shoulder, when she sees you nod. “I heard you won third place this half, right?”

“That’s right, ma’am.” You proudly say.

“Go Tigers!” Is the last thing she says before she walks out of the door. What a charming woman. You smile at yourself before walking up the stairs to your friend’s room.

Knock knock. No answer.

Knock knock knock. A groan.

KNOCK KNOCK KNOCK. A louder groan.

“Kim Gyuvin, I will bust your door down.” You yell, “You think my legs haven’t gotten stronger?”

Fast stomps and the sound of a clutter of objects falling on the ground startle you slightly. The door opens so roughly you wonder if Gyuvin himself has also gotten stronger.

“Y/N?!”

“What fell on the ground?” You chuckle. He hugs you, possibly tighter than your dad. You didn’t quite expect it, but you welcome it anyway.

He pulls away like he’s checking if you’re not a hologram. You laugh the hardest when he pokes your cheek. He looks relieved, then mad. “Why didn’t you tell me you were coming?! When did you get here?!”

“I got here yesterday. You were still awake, I think. But I wanted to greet you properly, and I was really tired last night.” You explain with a little bit of remorse.

“Dude!” He hugs you once again, “Bro, I can’t believe you're back!” You hug him just as tightly. “I’m really happy I’m here.”

He pushes you lightly with a smirk, “Don’t get sappy on me.” He teases, “Congrats on third place, tiger.” You cringe at the nickname and push him back.

“Eww!” You both laugh, and you notice the bundle of things he has on the floor of his room, “You dropped all that?”

Gyuvin looks back, and pushes you out of his room, closing the door in shame. Unbelievable.

You hear him pick up the things and put them back in place, until he finally opens the door again. You’re right where he left you. “Get dressed. Your mom made you breakfast.”

“Wait, help me pick an outfit!” You’ve been here for less than a day and he’s already being annoying. Like always.

“Bro, I’m wearing a shirt that’s too small for me, I am not the one to ask for fashion help.”

“That’s your fault for getting swole!” You hear him yell while you go down the stairs. Maybe nothing's really changed.

You’re back at the kitchen. You look at the lonely plate at the table, it doesn’t look very appetizing. It’s not like it’s a bad meal, it’s an omelet and toast, but when you touch it it’s abnormally cold. Fuck you Gyuvin. He was probably supposed to wake up a while ago.

You take the plate and place it in the microwave, one minute should be fine. You open the fridge and snoop around to see if they still- yup, they still have a box of the triangle juice boxes you and Gyuvin always shared at school. Apple was your favorite. You’re sure he or his mom won’t mind you taking one while you wait for the food to heat up.

You take the little plastic straw attached to the juice box and stab it into the designated hole. Just as you close the fridge, you hear the shutter sound effect from a phone. You turn around and see Gyuvin already dressed up and smiling at his phone.

“Did you take a picture of me?” You ask. The microwave beeps, “That’s your food.”

“Check the group chat.” He says as he walks past you to the microwave. You take out your phone and rest your elbows on the counter when you open up the group chat. Gyuvin named it “Beach boys”, even when he himself was the only male.

You’re immediately met with a picture of you from your side, stabbing a hole into your apple juice box. You looked at yourself in the mirror this morning, but you only realize how tight the sleeves of your shirt look when you stare at the photo. “Damn…” You mutter

“Ow! Ow! Hot!” Gyuvin yelps as he walks beside you, plate in his hands. He sits down at the table while you scroll back up to check the other messages.

gyuv | 9:44 A.M.

guys Y/N got so swole its actually insane

sully | 9:44 A.M.

Well yeah shes an athlete what were u expecting

henny | 9:44 A.M.

did she post something on ig?

where is this coming from

minj | 9:44 A.M.

Good morning first of all

gyuv | 9:45 A.M.

yeah but ud expect her legs to get bigger or her thighs idk

tell me why this absolute gremlin has bigger biceps than me

i feel threatened

this feels like a bro code violation

henny | 9:45 A.M.

this feels more like you just being insecure

i checked her ig and theres nothing?

sully | 9:45 A.M.

Vin are you hallucinating be honest

minj | 9:45 A.M.

Why gremlin

If anything the gremlin is hanni

henny | 9:45 A.M.

literally so out of pocket

what compelled you to say that

gyuv | 9:46 A.M. 

[1 attachment]

henny | 9:46 A.M.

Gyuvin is that ur fuckign house

is that han Y/N in your fucking house.

minj | 9:46 A.M.

What the hell

You | 9:46 A.M.

hi guys!

henny | 9:47 A.M.

Han Y/N are you in gyuvins fucking house

You | 9:47 A.M.

possibly

gyuv | 9:47 A.M.

[1 attachment]

guys im shaking theres a uleague third place winner in my kitchen

im so honored

sully | 9:47 A.M.

Omg she did get swole

Hiii Y/N

gyuv | 9:47 A.M.

RIGHT

IM SAYING LIKE

U DONT EVEM USE UR ARMS IN SOCCER

henny | 9:47 A.M.

Y/N when the FUCK did u get here

im gonna start vrying omg

You | 9:48 A.M.

i got here yesterday at night

i wanted to surprise u guys but ig gyuvin got too excited

pham hanni DO NOT CRY

hi sullyyy !!

henny | 9:48 A.M.

ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS

You | 9:48 A.M.

stop cursing so much omg

minj | 9:48 A.M.

This is actually crazy

How could you say nothing to us

I feel lowkey betrayed Han Y/N

You | 9:48 A.M.

IM SORRY???

so surprises are the worst thing in the world now huh

gyuvs mom was so much happier to see me than you guys fr

going back to seoul

it seems im not welcome

henny | 9:48 A.M.

Y/N actually stop playing rn

where do we meet

You | 9:49 A.M

me and gyuv will pick u guys up

were going to the soccer field

but i got money from the scholarship so we can buy stuff on the way

gyuv | 9:49 A.M.

guys just to be clear i had literally no idea she was here

she showed up at my house 20 mins ago

sully | 9:49 A.M.

Omg we can go to that antique shop thats close to our high school

henny | 9:50

literally how r u so calm abt this

minj | 9:50 A.M.

Maybe ur just abnormal

You cackle loudly at Minji's last text.

When you arrive at Yoona's house, she's already waiting for you two on her porch. She looks a little taller than when you last saw her. Her eyes light up when she sees you arrive.

“Y/N!” She runs up to you and hugs you so tightly your breath falls a little short. What's with everyone and suffocating you lately? “I missed you so much!”

“I missed you too, Sully!” You smile at her when you pull back, and the first thing she does is poke your arm. Her jaw drops in awe at the toughness of the muscle and it makes you laugh.

Gyuvin comes up behind you both with his arms open and a silly smirk, “Where my hug at?” It's quite awful. Yoona gags and sends him a distasteful look, which quickly shuts him down

You missed this. And it’s like this - full of banter and laughs - the whole way to Hanni’s house, the three of you take turns at making fun of each other, with the brief recurring tease at your job as an athlete.

Your friends like to brag about you being a college athlete, and a good one at that, but they certainly enjoyed sitting you up on a pedestal as a joke. They talked about you like you were the main star of the national team when in reality most people had little to no idea who you were even on campus, with the exception of the Yujin fans who tried using you to get close to her.

“Y/N, I promise you, when you make it on the national team, there’s gonna be a ton of fan accounts for you.” You’re in the middle of pushing Gyuvin away and blushing at his comment, about to contradict him when you hear a voice calling you.

“Han Y/N!” You don’t even realize you were already at Hanni’s house when you look towards the sound and two girls are waiting for you at the steps of a big house.

The first thing you notice is Hanni’s hair. She cut it, a fuckass (affectionately) bob that looked exactly like the one she wore the first time you ever met her.

The second thing you notice is that Minji is right beside her, already smiling at you. She stands up from the steps she and Hanni were sitting on and shakes off the dust from her pants. She wears a simple white graphic shirt and oversized blue jeans, beige puffer jacket hanging off her arms, and she looks so much taller than how she did when she was 16.

(That’s weird, shouldn’t she have stopped growing by then?)

The third thing you notice is your heartbeat suddenly racing when her eyes and yours meet for the first time in three years.

It beats at the same pace it did when the afternoon sun hit her face when you were 7. It beats at the same pace it did when you stared at her sitting by the window in middle school. It beats at the same pace it did when she sat beside you on the bus and fell asleep with her head on your shoulder.

Nothing has changed. Nothing at all.

It hits you like a bullet through your chest, but you try your best to ignore it as Hanni runs towards you. 

“You asshole!” She yells with a smile on her face, and it contaminates your lips when she hugs you. She doesn’t hug you as tightly, but it’s longer than you expected. When she finally pulls away from you you touch the short strands of hair that cover her ears.

“What happened here?” You ask, watching in awe at the striking change.

“I kind of had an existential crisis last night.” She responds shyly while caressing her trimmed locks. “Minji helped me make it look better. It did not look good when I did it. They didn’t know either!” She points at the two behind you, both of them with their jaws hanging when you look back.

“Dude, you literally look seven again.” You say. You don’t mean it in a teasing way, she genuinely looks younger, but you reconsider telling her that when she hits you in the arm. Hanni widens her eyes at the unexpected roughness, “What the hell… you did get swole.”

“Can we stop talking about that?” The topic of your arms is starting to tire you, but it’s mostly embarrassing, so you groan at the mention.

You hear Minji laugh when Hanni goes up to the other two and they immediately start touching her new hair. It makes you laugh too, but you gasp a little when you feel a hand touch your shoulder.

“Hey.” She says, her god-damned pretty eyes look at you so sweetly, and her voice is so soft, and-

“Hey!” You say before thoughts about her take up your brain and you awkwardly freeze.

She smiles right before she hugs you, and it’s surprisingly warm, but you’re sure most of it comes from your own blood rushing everywhere inside you.

Everything about her is gentle, her eyes, her voice, her embrace. It’s a complete one-eighty in contrast to the tightness of everyone else who’s put their arms around you for the past two days.

“I missed you.” She says so delicately, almost quiet, even if she says it right next to your ear. And you’re about to melt, and she has no idea, so you hug her back, a little less soft than how she does, and say “I missed you too.”

It comes out a lot more calmly than you expect it, and you internally praise yourself for not making a fool out of yourself. It’s not like you want to pull away, but you might start sweating if you don’t.

You take your arms off her back and her warmth suddenly fades away. When she looks at your face again, there’s a small grin painting her lips, “Congrats on the win.” She pokes at your shoulder and you laugh at the gesture.

“It’s only third place. I want first.”

“Oh wow!” Her amused smile makes you dizzy, “Didn’t know you were so ambitious.”

“People change, I guess.” You giggle with her. But you haven’t really changed at all.

“Well, you better get first place, tiger.” She teases and you groan even louder at the nickname as you get away from her to join your friends. Maybe getting over Minji won’t be so hard.

Getting over Minji is going to be fucking impossible. Matter of fact, you're sure it’s never gonna happen. You’re going to be 45 and still think about her, and it’s going to slowly kill you.

You stare as she holds a little cow plush in her hands, inspecting it carefully. Her round eyes shine just like the glossy buttons of the doll. You think of a believable excuse before you take your phone out of your pocket and open the camera app.

You zoom in and despise how your fingers tremble before you snap a photo of the girl, unbeknownst to her.

Gyuvin comes up behind you, his voice is quiet yet it still startles you, “What’s the pic for?”

You look at him with widened eyes and bring your hand to your chest. “Just… memories.” Truth lies within your (not quite) excuse. “I want to look back on things like this when I go back to Seoul.”

The boy narrows his eyes at you and smirks, “So sappy.” He teases, so you zoom out the camera to 0.5 and take a bad close up of his face, “Hey!” He laughs.

You get away and put your phone back in your pocket to look at more of the items in the store. Many things catch your eye, small, shiny, weird, big, you could buy it all if you had the money to.

You walk around the shop, your eyes examine all the items on the old wooden tables and your fingers lightly brush on some of the more eye-catching trinkets. You stare at the little ceramic figurines of dogs and cats and other animals and mentally consider buying the little calico cat on the far left.

There are some cute keychains with little black and white designs as you pass by. You add them to your roster too. Hanni’s voice catches your attention from a few steps away.

“Y/N! What do you think of this cardigan?” She’s in the clothing section of the store, sporting a vintage cream colored wool cardigan with little brown stripes on the sides of the sleeves. It’s a little big on her, but oversized is trendy so it’s fine.

“It’s cute!” Your eyes glance towards some of the clothes behind her, “I like that one better though.” You point at the blue-gray checkered sweater behind her and she frowns in confusion when she looks at it, “Y/N, that’s so ugly.” Guess you don’t have an eye for fashion.

“Oh well…” You sigh and keep looking for more artifacts.

As you walk around, you accidentally bump the top of your head on some of the ornaments that hang on the ceiling, the sound of multiple wind chimes emerge a little before your quiet “Ow!”, which grabs the attention of Yoona and Gyuvin.

“You okay?” The girl asks in concern, but you can hear her hold back a laugh between her teeth. Gyuvin isn’t so subtle, his laughs resonating on the walls of the shop.

“Yeah, I’m fine.” You assure Yoona as you rub your forehead with your eyes closed, turned away in embarrassment. When your eyes open again, they land on an item that makes you freeze a little.

A small, pale blue hair clip. It looked oddly similar, if not exactly the same as the one Minji wore on the first day you met. The clip she lost on that same day while the five of you swam in the ocean together.

You remember her being so upset when she realized it wasn’t there anymore, so much she cried silently on the way back to your respective houses. She was over the sadness of losing it in less than a week, but it stuck with you after Hanni told you in a whisper that it was the first time she ever saw Minji cry.

You immediately take the clip in your hands, the first item you’re certain you will buy. Actually, you buy it in that same instant. Thankfully, none of your friends seem to notice your quiet purchase, too engrossed in their own item search.

The five of you spend around 40 minutes in total in that damn shop, and you could kind of tell the owner was getting sick of Gyuvin’s constant questions on how he acquired the items. “They’re mostly donations or things I find on trips. I don’t know anything else.” He says.

In the end, you bought a few more things apart from the hair clip. You did end up buying the little calico cat figurine, a silver necklace with a spiral pendant, a pack of stamps with really cool designs, and a love letter.

There was a cardboard box sitting on a chair in one corner of the shop with a sign that said “Old Love Letters, ₩300 Each”, and not only is it something you’ve never seen anyone sell before, but it’s also cheap. How could you not buy a chance to snoop around in unknown people’s love lives? 

You put your stuff in the little tote bag Yoona had bought for you. She said the design made her think of you (it had three monochrome fish painted over it).

Now you’re making your way towards the nearest soccer field. You used to play there all the time with Gyuvin, sometimes the other girls joined, or some of the other kids in the neighborhood.

The five of you walked with you right in the middle, like you were the center of a K-pop group. It definitely made you stand out to the locals of the neighborhoods you passed through, and some of them even recognized you and went as far as to congratulate you.

Did your parents tell the entire town about your rank in the league?

“It’s like I’m walking with a celebrity.” Hanni voices just as you get back from shaking hands with one of the old men of the neighborhood. As much as you enjoy the praise and congratulations, it’s a little embarrassing to acknowledge you’re gaining a lot more fame within this town. You imagine this is how famous soccer players feel everytime they go out in public.

“Microcelebrity.” You clarify, “Aren’t you an influencer?” You recall Hanni spamming the group chat one time in the first year of high school because one of her Instagram posts had gone viral. After a while of her videos getting more and more views, she started gaining a small following and could be considered a daily-life influencer.

“Yeah, but most of my followers aren’t from here so I don’t get recognized everytime I go out.”

“To be fair, this is the first time this has happened to me. My parents probably told the whole town about this.”

“Oh, they sure did. Even my mom found out.” Minji states, to your surprise. Minji’s mother was well known for not liking any sports at all, and it’s not that she hated them, she just wasn’t interested. She didn’t even know who Messi or Ronaldo were.

“Wow… I knew they liked to gossip, but that’s… crazy.” You scratch your nape shyly. Your parents are known for finding out everything, but you didn’t know they also told everything they knew.

“She didn’t really know what anything meant but she was very happy for you.” She says with a smile.

Oh! There’s a strange giddy feeling that shows up as a smile on your face you can’t hold back. You’re not really sure what to say, but you don’t even have to worry about it, because before you realize you’re already at the field, and when the boys that are playing there take notice of your presence, all you can hear is screams.

Sounds of “Y/N Noona!”, “No way it’s Y/N!”, “You’re back?!” get closer as the match pauses and they start running towards you. Most of them are your high school classmates, some are your younger neighbors or underclassmen you played with during recess.

You get closer and they bombard you with hugs and questions, with countless reminders of how much they missed you. One of them complains about you not answering his texts, and another boy defends you by excusing your forgetfulness on being busy.

“Okay, okay. I’ll make it up to you with a match, okay?”

You end up playing for two hours straight, the first half with your friends as a team, but after a while it seemed like the only one with energy left was you. Not even Gyuvin could keep up your pace.

“No wonder she’s an athlete.” Hanni says, fanning herself under the shadow of a tree that trespassed the field enclosure. Your friends were all sitting down on the ground, watching attentively at the match you played against the boys while chatting.

It was 5v1 and you were winning 4-2.

Minji watched carefully at the way you carried yourself on the field, so graceful and yet not passive at all, a different perspective compared to how you usually are.

There's a little bit of sweat that glistens on your forehead, and after playing for such a long time you only now start to look slightly tired. “I pray everyday she makes it to the national team and gets rich.” Gyuvin says.

“Same.” Hanni answers, laying down on a blanket over the warm grass and resting her head on her bag and it makes Yoona laugh when she grumbles at the discomfort of feeling all the crystals she bought on the back of her head.

The boys score another goal at you, so you decide to get serious and start playing like you would at a normal university match. Minji stares when you run faster and slide through the opponents so easily. She kind of wonders if she could calculate your speed mentally.

Field length = 55 meters, Penalty area length = 9 meters

You were around 9.2 meters from the halfway line and traveled around 18 meters in a straight line, Minji counts 4 seconds.

18/4 = 5 m/s, 1 m/s = 3.6 km/h, 5 * 3.6 = 18 km/h

Han Y/N’s speed in that one moment was 18 km/h.

The average maximum sprint speed of La Liga athletes was 30 km/h, according to an NLM article (don’t ask Minji how she knows that; she isn’t even studying medicine).

Suddenly Minji feels the need to see you play an actual serious match.

“I don’t think you need to pray.” She says with a smirk, standing up from the ground and wiping away the bristles of grass stuck to her jeans. “She has it in the bag.”

The others notice her taking out her wallet from her pocket, “Can you buy me a Fanta?” Gyuvin makes puppy eyes at Minji, even while knowing they never work on her, or anyone for that matter.

She gives him nothing but a wave and walks away, “She’s not getting you shit, dude.” Hanni kicks Gyuvin in the back with the tip of her foot and Yoona laughs at the scene.

The grocery store is not far away at all, only a block from the field, and Minji treads lightly with her mind made up on what to buy. A bag of chips and two glasses of apple juice, and maybe a strawberry lollipop for Hanni, NOT cherry, she notes.

The owner is an older lady who used to babysit Minji’s mom. She’s seen her countless times in her life so it’s easy for her to greet her brightly. “It’s been so long, Minji!” The woman greets her, her aged features morphing into a kind smile.

It’s true, it has been a long time. She doesn’t really come here that often anymore unless she’s taking a walk out of boredom or walking the neighbors dog when she’s out of town. She used to come here all the time when you all went to play soccer, but the matches got less and less frequent after you left, mostly because the only one who actually wanted to play was Gyuvin.

Minji makes her way to the drink section of the store and lights up when she sees the chilled glasses of apple juice right where she remembers them being. She was honestly surprised you hadn’t brought a water bottle with you when you left, and maybe just water would be healthier and hydrate you better, but she’d rather make you happier with your favorite drink.

(You would’ve been happy enough even if she just brought you water.)

The glass is cold when it reaches her hand, a nice contrast from the heat of the afternoon sun. She was starting to get a little hungry so maybe instead of chips she’d get a sandwich. Maybe she’ll get two.

She excuses herself in her mind, she’s not excluding her other friends! It’s just… this day is about you, of course her focus would be you. And maybe tomorrow. And maybe the whole time you’re here. She laughs at herself while walking up to the counter. She meant it when she told you she missed you.

“That would be ₩4,200 but I’ll give to you for ₩4,000 because I missed you.” The woman beams her a warm smile and Minji can’t help but return it. She hands her 4,200 won anyways and is out the door before the woman can complain. “Bye, Mrs. Do!”

Minji walks back with a smile on her face, the wind hits and blows her hair back. Some leaves and dust get blown her way too but she doesn’t have to squint her eyes because they already do that when she smiles. 

The sun isn’t as bright and the rays don’t burn her skin anymore. She hears louds screams just as she’s getting closer to the field, and when she looks through the gaps of the metal enclosure she sees Gyuvin running up to hug you while the boys you were playing with fall to the ground in defeat.

She missed your win. Minji puckers up her bottom lip and sighs, shoulders shrugging helplessly.

You hadn’t even realized she had left until you see her enter the field again, so you send her a light smile she almost doesn’t catch. She looks back to the other girls and when her eyes meet Hanni laying on the grass she realizes she forgot her strawberry lollipop. Oh well.

She sits down next to Yoona and takes her sandwich out of her bag.

“What’d you buy?”

“Just stuff. Nothing for Gyuvin.”

Yoona laughs at the comment. “The apple juice is for Y/N, right?” Minji nods as she looks at you tap the boys on the back to cheer them up, “You can have the other one if you want.”

Minji was just about to open the packaging of her sandwich when she sees you and Gyuvin walk towards her. She quickly stops her actions and takes the other cold glass from the plastic bag, struggles a little to open the lid, and just as you take your last step she holds the cold apple juice to your face, or the closest to it her arm could reach.

You’re a little taken aback, but luckily you don’t blush at her act. Instead you just smile at her, mirroring Minji’s own kind smile and take the glass from her hand. “Thanks.” You say before you take a sip.

Both of your hearts feel full, yours at the flavor of apple that fills your tastebuds and calms the thirst of running for hours, and hers at the fact she made you even just a little happy with such a small action.

You gulp down probably half the glass down and end it with a “Ah~” that makes your friends laugh. “You still do that?” Hanni sits up and rests her hands behind her on the grass.

“What do you mean?”

“You’ve done that since you were a kid.” Minji says and your eyebrows raise,”Really?” All your friends nod.

“I never noticed.”

Minji goes back to her sandwich as you and Gyuvin sit down in front of the other three. You’re tired now, but you don’t wanna lay on the grass because you say it makes you itch, so you try resting your body weight on Gyuvin, to which he adamantly pushes you away, “You’re heavy, Y/N!”

“What the hell, bro. I’m literally not?” You pout at him to try and get him to surrender but he just pushes you away harder every time you try to lay your back against him.

“Go lay on Minji or something, not me.” He says as he pushes you for the last time, you hear Hanni laugh.

You look at Minji and she’s already putting away the plastic bag she had on her lap. Oh, okay, yeah, no biggie. No problem at all.

You do a great impression of acting normal and move to sit next to her. “The shadow is better on this side anyways.” You fake whine at the boy as Minji grabs your shoulder and guides you to rest your back on top of her legs.

You turn your body so that you face her and hope she can’t tell your heart starts beating faster when you notice she’s already looking down at you. It’s a beautiful scene.

Minji’s face, the green leaves of the trees behind her and the sun peeking through the gaps, the wind blowing her hair a little to the side, the way her eyes smile at the same time she does. “Hey.”

“Hey.” You answer.

Everything about this is normal! You have to close your eyes so you believe it, and you start to after a few seconds. Everything about this is normal. It feels so normal and you love it.

It’s soothing. The wind caresses your face and you lose focus on the conversation your friends were having beside you.

And then Minji starts running her fingers through your hair and you lose focus on anything that’s not her.

Your heartbeat picks up for a few seconds and then it doesn’t. And then it’s all calm again. Your eyes are closed but your mind pictures Minji so vividly, smiling at you sweetly while her eyes. Her loving eyes.

God, you hope you’re not blushing, because you can already feel yourself getting warm all over. Thankfully, the gentle breeze is there to save you when you need it.

 And then there’s a moment where everything, the breeze, Minji’s hands caressing you, and the sound of playful conversation, all merge at the perfect moment and you experience a calm that feels heavenly. Almost divine, and it sends you into instant slumber.

You don’t really remember every detail of what you dream of, you just remember it being about Minji, Seoul and snow. Either way, you know it had something to do with her confessing her feelings to you after you win nationals. You remember that you froze after she kissed you, then called your name after she saw you not move.

“Y/N! Y/N!” You hear your name being called out, then your body being shaked roughly. “Y/N!” You hear loudly before you wake yourself up.

“Sorry!” You don’t know what you’re apologizing for until your body jerks away and your forehead almost hits Minji’s. “Oh, sorry.”

“You fell asleep.” She states the obvious with a giggle.

“No shit, queen.” You hear Hanni laugh loudly at your response. “How long was I out for?”

“It’s 5:25.” Yoona says behind you, only then you realize they were already packing up and it was time to go. Where? You have no idea.

“Shit. Sorry guys.” You sit back up and stretch your muscles before you can stand properly.

“My legs fell asleep, you know?” Minji announces, and when you look back at her she has a teasing smirk on her face.

“Yeah, well, maybe blame Gyuv for that.” You answer sassily, but you can’t help but feel a little guilty.

Said male goes to grab the tote bag Yoona got you and the half finished apple juice you left behind and holds the bag it to your face while you’re still stretching, “Hurry up, girl. We gotta go to the beach before sunset.” He throws the bag at you and you catch it just in time.

“Careful! I have a cat in there!”

You arrive at the beach at exactly 6:00 P.M. and as soon as you get to the sand Gyuvin is already taking his shoes and shirt off. You look at everyone, confused on the plan you never actually listened to.

“We were going to swim?”

“Do you not want to?” Hanni asks.

“I don’t know…” You look at your friends with a sorry expression. You were already worn out from the whole match, and even after you slept a whole two hours on Minji’s lap, you still felt a little tired. “I’m kinda drained guys.”

“Bro… How could you?” Minji looks at you like she’s so betrayed and you laugh at her annoying little face that’s also so pretty and cute and annoying

“Bro… I’m sorry.” You play along. Calling the love of your life “bro” is crazy.

Okay, “love of your life” is an exaggeration (it’s literally not, in every sense of the word literally).

“I’ll watch your bags and take pics!” You tried bargaining, and they look at you like you’re crazy. “Guys, please, we can come swim tomorrow. The beach is not going anywhere considering we literally live beside it.”

Then Yoona gets real close to you and whispers, “You’ll pay for this.” then takes off her shoes.

“What the hell, man.”

Gyuvin and Yoona are already running at the sea and splashing each other, they don’t actually care about you not joining. Hanni hands you her bag with a strange force and you don’t know where it came from, “Take care of my babies.” She says.

“Your… babies?”

“My crystals.”

“Oh, right. I will.”

Minji walks up to you when Hanni walks away and hands you her jacket and another bag, this time plastic, “There’s one sandwich left in there. I told Gyubin not to eat it and I didn’t think he was going to listen but he did, surprisingly.” She tells you with a smile.

“Thanks. Very thoughtful of you man.” Alright, pack it up.

Minji sends you one last smile before she leaves and your heart beats when her eyes squint too. You watch her disappear into the waves and smile. You take out your phone and take a picture of your friends all swimming and playing in the water, their silhouettes clashing with the sun that was just about to set. It’s so pretty you make it your lock screen immediately.

You take out a blanket from Hanni’s bag, the same one she was laying on in the soccer field, and spread it on the ground to sit down. You take off your sneakers before they get filled with sand and take comfort in the warmth of the sand beneath you.

You stare at your friends for a bit, a beautiful picture presented just for you. You’re so happy to be back. Your stomach lets out a loud grumble before you even get to tear up. What a way to ruin the mood.

You take the bag Minji gave you and take out the sandwich. Ham, bacon, cheese, lettuce- oh, who cares. You take a bite out of it and it tastes like home. She definitely bought it from Mrs. Do.

It eases your hunger quite well. You hear the waves crash and Minji’s laugh from far away and, what a beautiful sound. What a beautiful person. You think of Minji and think of beautiful, not just from her appearance but her soul. What a beautiful soul.

You take your last bite and your stomach feels full, but you feel a little empty and can’t pinpoint what it is. You feel like you’re forgetting something. You reach for your new bag and search for whatever it seems you're forgetting.

Oh, right, the letter. Suddenly you feel excited.

The sun starts just in time. What a way to set the mood. You take out the white envelope and notice it still has some scent remaining. It kinda smells like something Minji used to wear, jasmine and liquorice. You didn’t smell it on her today, though.

You notice the envelope doesn’t have a sender or recipient name anywhere on it, nowhere at all. Maybe they didn’t plan to send it, or they changed the envelope at the shop. Eager to know more, you rip the envelope, careful not to damage the letter itself.

You take it out and take a deep breath to prepare yourself. You’re probably a little more excited than you should be, but whatever. You’re excited to intrude on a stranger's possibly failed love confession.

Except when you unfold the page, it’s not from a stranger.

You panic and fold the letter closed just as fast as you had opened it. You must have misread, right?

You open it again and the top says “Kim Minji, 23rd of June, 2021” like it’s a diary.

It must be another Kim Minji. There are hundreds of thousands in South Korea. It could be anyone. Anyone at all. So you keep reading in hopes it’s someone who’s not the girl swimming in the sea just a few meters away from you.

Dear Y/N,

It’s not a stranger. It’s Kim Minji. Your Kim Minji. You’re reading an old love letter from Kim Minji. You bought a love letter from Kim Minji for 300 won.

Wait, why is it addressed to you?

Now, you’re more confused than shocked. Now, you have to find out. You were going to put it down and not read it to not intrude and break your own heart, but now you have to find out why on Earth the first two words are Dear Y/N written in Kim Minji’s handwriting. So you keep reading.

Dear Y/N, I hope this finds you well. If you’re reading this, I gave this to you on the 24th or maybe even earlier on a strike of confidence. I hope you’re not keeping yourself up to read this at midnight. I wanted to tell you something I’ve been keeping for a long time before you leave for Seoul. Maybe it’s a selfish thing to do, and it won’t keep you from departing, but I think it would be worse to tell you this through text and I can’t bring myself to say it to your face.

I have feelings for you. Real romantic feelings. I like you a lot.

I like possibly everything about you and it’s killing me that I’m so scared and unable to tell you. I don’t even know what I’m so afraid of, really. Probably rejection, but even if you did like me back I still have to live without you for four years. My wish of you coming to visit me will probably depend on how harsh your rejection is, but I’d still like to see you back regardless.

When you first told us you got that scholarship for Korea University, I was so happy and proud of you. In a perfect world I would have kissed you and told you how happy I was for you and maybe even gone with you. But it’s not a perfect world and I just told you “Congratulations!” and you’re leaving tomorrow, without me. 

I’m not one to take pictures, if anything that’s you, but right now I wish I had an album full of photos of you, of us, because I don’t know how I’ll make it without seeing you everyday. I think I won’t, actually. I hope you consider letting me borrow the photo album full of the countless pictures you take, even if they’re not of you they might fill the void you leave in my heart.

Anything from you will suffice, I think, but just your memory is not enough.

I kinda wish you could stay, but I also know you’re going to do your best over there and I hope you fulfill your dream of being a professional player. When you said you were going to choose to study mass communication I thought “that must mean she’s going to communicate with us a lot!” I hope it does. I hope you don’t miss us too much, but I do hope you miss me a little bit more.

I’ve never written a love letter before, if you could even call this that, so excuse me if this is not a good one, I’m sorry. I should probably state what I like most about you, but I don’t even know where to begin.

I love the way you’re driven to do your best even at the smallest of things. When we first met, you built us the best sand castle I had ever seen in my short life of seven years. The sandcastle was still standing when we went to visit it the next day.

You do your best at school, even when it gets hard for you, and I love that you’re not afraid to ask for help when you really need it. I kind of envy that if I’m honest. I hope you become the best student in your major.

I remember the time we babysat Ms.Yoon’s daughter and you were the only one who knew how to change her diapers and at what time to feed her. I also love how good you are with kids and sometimes it makes me think of very inappropriate thoughts of building a family together, but I won’t get into that because I don’t want to be weirder than I’m already being right now.

I love the way you always try your best to make me smile when I’m upset or stressed and even just the thought of you going out of your way to care is enough for my heart to melt. When I got sick in middle school while my mom was out of town you came to my house every day and made me chicken soup. I think that was the day I started thinking of you as more than just a friend.

I love the way you look when you put your hair up in a ponytail. I used to stare at you the entire time we watched you play during recess in middle school.

I love the way you’re clumsy and you’re never embarrassed about it. You always get up when you fall and you don’t pretend it doesn’t hurt when you scrape your knees. And I love the way you still try to smile when I’m patching up your wounds.

I love the way you always want the best for us and encourage us to be ambitious. I wouldn’t be on top of my class if it weren’t for you.

I love the way you like cats and they like you back. They always hiss at me unless you’re around. Maybe it’s a sign that we should be together all the time.  

I love the way you say Ah~ when you finish drinking water after playing soccer.

I love (you) the way you love apple juice. I hope you feel the same. – Kim Minji

P.s. if you don’t i also understand and you’re free to do whatever you want with this letter.

You have no idea at what point you started to tear up, but you only realize when a tear falls from your eye into the paper and blurs the ink in the last “Minji”. 

You don’t even process anything around you at that point. All you can think about is that Minji liked you 3 years ago and never told you and now you don’t even know if she still likes you.

No matter how much you think about it, you would’ve absolutely given her your photo album, if only the letter had actually gotten to you when it was supposed to.

“I saw you open the letter from over there, I came here to be nosy.” You can’t tell anything she says because you’re so entranced but you can tell it’s Minji’s voice. You freeze when she sits beside you.

“Is it any good?” She asks before realizing you’re completely paralyzed. “Hey, are you crying?” She touches your shoulder in concern, and it wakes you up a little bit, but the only thing you can do is hand her the letter.

She stares at you for a few seconds before she finally takes the page and mutters, “Oh.”

You don’t really want to look at her, and you don’t know what comes over you that makes you turn your head anyways. The red sun rays hit her face in a way that makes her tan skin glow. Her hair is damp and her shirt is stuck to her body but you don’t dare to look.

She’s clearly just as shocked as you are to see the object in her hands. And she still looks so beautiful. “Y/N, I-” You wipe your tears and sniff before she turns and see them in your eyes.

“Was this the one you bought?” You nod, and she looks back at it with her mouth hung low. “I… was wondering where this went. I thought I lost it.”

“You didn’t send it? At all?” Minji shakes her head. Wow, this is so great. “Why didn’t you?”

“I was supposed to give it to you before you left. I was hoping it would make you stay, but then I thought I was being too selfish and… just didn’t.” There’s clearly some regret still left in her face and the wind starts to blow. You hand her the jacket you put down next to your friends’ bags. “Thanks.” She says as she puts it on. You turn away to look at the sunset and gather your thoughts.

There’s no expression on your face for Minji to read, and for some reason she starts getting worried. “Y/N… I- It’s been three years, you don’t have to worry about-”

“Do you still?” You ask while looking away at the sea.

Minji stays quiet.

“Do you?”

She still keeps quiet. You turn to face her.

“Please tell me the truth, Minji.”

There’s something about how the sun makes your eyes glow and how you say her name that sabotages Minji at not giving in.

“Yes.” She speaks out with a sigh, “I do. I still do.”

You don’t know if your heart is beating faster or slower, but you feel it beat stronger. You turn away to get your bag, Minji just watches, her eyebrows slightly furrowed in distress and curiosity. The only thing she wants right now is to know how you feel.

You reach inside your bag for something, and Minji can’t really tell what it is when you take it out.

Finally, you extend the pale blue hair clip in your hand, “I have liked you since we were seven, Minji.” The girl looks at the clip then at you, her round eyes widened in disbelief.

“Are you serious?”

You hold your hand closer to her, urging her to take the gift before you sniff once again, “I saw this and thought of you. It looks like the one you had when we first met, that’s the day I started liking you. I haven’t stopped since.”

Minji takes the clip from your hands and feels herself tear up, says nothing, stares at it, then stares at you.

“We’ve known each other for thirteen years and I’ve loved you for thirteen of them.”

“I had no idea.”

“We had no idea.”

“We knew nothing about everything.” It’s now Minji’s turn to sniffle but still smiles as she wipes away the tears that threaten to fall from her eyes.

“How could you never say anything? Thirteen years, Y/N.” Minji complains while caressing the blue clip in her hands like it’s a precious stone. “Thirteen.”

“I got distracted with soccer.” Minji laughs with you and pushes you away by the shoulder. “Every goal I’ve ever made has been for you, though,”

“That’s so cheesy.” Minji giggles to herself as she pops the clip open and places it on her hair, it snaps shut with a ‘click’. “What do you think?” She says, turning to you. She tries to ignore your eyes and how sweetly they look at her.

“I think I love you more than I love apple juice.”

That’s the last thing you say before Minji smiles and gets shy, she looks away but her hand searches for yours and you help her by placing yours over hers. She fights back by taking it back and placing hers on top of yours. It makes you laugh.

The sound of your laugh takes her attention and now she stares directly at you, a smile on her own face. Her cheeks now take a reddish color, and her eyes shine like the reflection of the sunlight on the water. It feels like a deja vu.

You think you could stare at Minji’s face all day and not complain. You think maybe she thinks so too with how intensely she’s looking at you.

You raise your eyebrow when her eyes trail down from your eyes to your lips, and she seems to notice when your lips form a smirk. “What?” She giggles at herself, her already red cheeks turn an even darker shade.

“I saw that.”

“Weren’t we about to?”

“So straightforward, You should’ve been like that when sending that letter.”

“Oh my god, shut up.”

Is the last thing she says before she leans forward, she hesitates a little bit and her eyes go from your lips to your eyes, a shine of expectancy as if asking for permission, even when she already has it.

She’s about to close the gap when the both of you hear a chorus of gasps from the sea. It takes your attention. Hanni, Gyuvin and Yoona are all pushing each other giggling and gasping, hands on their mouths. You hear a faint “It’s finally happening.”, You can’t tell who it’s from though.

Minji is visibly annoyed, yells “Look away!” and it bounces in the waves. It’s actually insane how dumb she looks, red cheeks, furrowed eyebrows, pouty, perfect lips. It takes you everything to control yourself and even then you still can’t help grabbing her face gently and turning it towards you to finally, once and for all, kiss her.

You don’t really care if your friends actually turned away or not, because you can’t really tell with how glorious it feels to kiss Minji. It almost feels holy. You feel like you died and went to heaven in five minutes.

It’s a new feeling, a new experience, and it feels so familiar at the same time. Like flowing with the waves, like dancing with the wind, like drowning in apple juice, drowning in love.

Your lips dance like that for a while. At one point Minji’s hand goes up to your face and it’s such a warm feeling it makes you smile into the kiss. You start running out of breath and you don’t even notice. You could die happily if it meant dying with Minji’s lips on yours.

But then your stupid survival instincts kick in and it’s such a shame you have to pull away.

Both of your breaths are heavy and you burst out in laughter at the same time when your eyes meet. When your laughs die down your eyes fall on the pale blue clip that adorned Minji’s head. “You look so cute.”

“Says you.”

And then you hear cheering from the beach again. “Finally!” Hanni yells. You watch in astonishment, “Did she know?” You ask Minji while the both of you watch the three of your friends jump up and down in the water.

“I have no idea. I didn’t tell her. She might’ve noticed.” The cogs start to turn in your brains.

“They all did.” You and Minji say at the same time, then laugh at the same time. What a friendship of thirteen years does to you. And when you see Gyuvin and Hanni get up from the water and get closer to you, you realize you’re about to be ambushed.

“Oh, hell no.” You mumble right before you stand up and grab your bag. Minji just looks at you confused, “Come on, get up. They’re wet.” But Minji doesn’t seem to cooperate.

“Dude!” You grab her hand and pull her up as you run away as far as possible from your friends. You don’t even realize where you’re going, but laughing with Minji while running on the sand at sunset feels heavenly.

You look back and Minji struggles to keep up. Gyuvin and Hanni don’t look anywhere close and they probably decided to just let the both of you go, so you stop running.”

“We…” Minji rests her hands on her knees as she catches her breath, “We didn’t have to run that much. I’m not the soccer player here.”

You send her an apologetic smile, “Sorry…” 

Minji now can stand up and breathe stably. She looks back and there’s no one behind. “So, where do we go now?”

“Home. You need to get changed or else you’re gonna get sick.” You walk towards her to touch her shirt, “It’s still damp.”

“Isn’t your house nearby?” She asks, “I live further away, and it’ll be night by the time we get to my house.”

You squint your eyes at her, “My clothes won’t fit on you, they barely fit on me.” You flex your bicep and the sleeve gets so tight it’s going to cut your blood flow if you keep it like that. “And I haven’t seen your mom yet.”

“And I want to have dinner with your parents.” She confesses. “My first official meeting with them as your girlfriend.” You never actually established that but it’s not like you’re going to refuse the offer.

“You’re actually so annoying, bro.”

“Says you, bro.”

“I’m your girlfriend, bro.”

“No shit, bro.” Minji holds her hand out for you to take it, and you gladly do. You start walking in silence for a little bit.

“Also, my mom won’t let us make out at my house.”

“Okay, that’s enough, bro.” You take your hand back and walk faster to get away from Minji. She immediately sprints to catch up and stick to you.

“I was kidding!” She tries to grab your hand but you refuse it and take it back. “Hey! Hold my hand!”

You look at her and wouldn’t you know, she’s making puppy eyes at you. It makes you give in, it never fails. “You’re so sticky.”

“You wanna know something?” She says as you start walking together again.

“What?”

“When you kissed me it tasted like apple juice.”

end.

🗒️ probably one of my favorite things i've written i giggled a lot and had fun writing this.. there's probably lots of mistakes here and there but i beg u pls ignore it bc im dizzy i can't look at words anymore. Minecraft coming soon! love u guys 🫂

[pintrestgrl]

loved your bsf!jj drabble!!!!! maybe a little drunken love confession from bsf!jj … and reader thinks its lowkey too good to be true bc she’s been yearning forever… but when they both sober up jj is like !!! i meant wtf i said !

hi i wrote this and then it completely disappeared. sigh. also im sorry if this is bad, i was half asleep bc i spent forever writing it the first time.

also i’m sorry for being inactive yesterday i was so so stressed nd had cramps and was dying… but hi !! hope u like this anon 🥹

note: after writing this, i rlly don’t like it. but i pray u guys do 😞

drunk!bsf!jj x pogue!reader.

“here, drink this.”

you spoke, shoving a glass of water into jj’s chest, sitting down next to him on the couch of the chateau.

he was clearly very wasted, and you were only a slight bit tipsy.

you two had both went out to the boneyard together, the rest of the group out doing god knows what.

he rambled on about not wanting to drink it, before giving in and chugging the clear liquid.

“thank god, you’re annoying when you’re drunk.”

“no, ‘m not. you are.”

“at least i’m not sloppy wasted, unlike somebody.”

“whatever. guilty by association.”

he spoke, slurring his words and laughing drunkenly.

“i’m not associated with you, you wish.”

“you’re my bestfriend, of course you are.”

he spoke, rolling his eyes amused at your denying.

you managed to let out a fake chuckle, silently cringing inside as he called you that. were you really only his ‘friend’ to him?

you wished to be so much more, and he had no idea whatsoever.

you were snapped out of your thoughts by his voice, drunkenly rambling again.

“thanks for the water. that was like, kinda sweet.”

“sweet?” you question, laughing as you furrowed your brows.

“yeah. you’re a sweet girl, i swear.”

you opened your mouth to protest, before being interrupted before you got the chance.

“you’re kinda pretty too.”

you froze at his words.

pretty?

that’s the last word you thought jj would use to describe you; at least to your face.

“what?”

“actually, no. you are pretty. very pretty.”

“jj, you’re drunk.”

“yeah, i am. and you’re pretty. probably beautiful if i could think right now.”

“you don’t mean that.”

“no, i do. i definitely do. i don’t know why you don’t have a boyfriend. or why i’m too dumb to ask you out.”

you were completely baffled at this point, trying to find any truth in his words. and to your surprise, he sounded genuine. drunk, but genuine.

you had liked him forever, and this was the most he’d ever showed any reciprocation.

you were always too scared to say anything, afraid of his rejection and what it would do to your friendship.

so, you opted for having some of him, rather then none at all.

“do you even understand a word you’re saying?”

you spoke, desperately needing to know if he was just drunkenly saying bullshit, or revealing the truth of how he felt.

“yeah, i do. you’re a sweet girl who is too pretty to not have a boyfriend. i mean, god. your face is perfect.”

“jj, shut up. stop.”

“no, you shut up. let me talk. i think i like you.”

“i’d hope so, considering i’m your bestfriend.”

“no, no. like actually like you. like seriously.”

you desperately were trying to deny his words, convincing yourself this was a dream and you needed to wake up.

“you think you like me?”

“no, i actually know i do. like a lot.

“jay, you’re joking.”

he scoffed, rolling his eyes.

“can you let me be serious about one thing in my life? i mean, god. i’m not joking. i’m serious. serious about this, about you.”

you could tell he was probably getting agitated the way you kept denying him, the way his mood shifted from amusedly drunk, to pissed off.

“why don’t you sleep the ‘liking me’ off, yeah?”

it took a while, but you convinced him to just go to bed. and as he layed in the next room over, you couldn’t get over his words.

was he trying to get in your pants because he was wasted, or was he serious about liking you?

you knew the thought would keep you up all night if you let it, so you decided to drop it from your brain, drifting off to a light sleep.

next morning

————————————————

you woke up groggily, a slight hangover lingering on your body. once you registered everything, you decided to go to the room next door, consisting of a likely just as hungover jj.

you opened the door, sitting on john b’s his bed, silently shaking him awake.

you knew he’d probably get all mad, but you needed him to help you clear the lingering thought in your head.

he groaned, mumbling a sleepy short sentence.

“what do you need?”

“can we talk?”

“speak or forever hold your peace, stupid.”

you rolled your eyes at his tired insult, reluctantly continuing with your words.

“uh— last night, you told me some stuff. like that you liked me, thought i was pretty and stuff. were you serious?”

he shot up as the words spilled out, immediately sitting against the headboard.

“i told you that?”

“yeah, you did.”

“shit— um, well yeah. kinda. in a way.”

“kinda?”

“no. not kinda.”

he said, rubbing a hand over his face.

he spoke again, sounding embarrassed.

“yes. i did. i meant it. every word. ‘m sorry. i didn’t mean to— jesus, fuck.”

“no, it’s fine, uh— i ‘kinda’ like you too.”

you said, letting the words come out before you thought about their weight.

“kinda? you’re serious?”

“yes, i’m serious. and not kinda, i didn’t mean that. i like you a lot.”

“shut up.”

“i’m serious, i do.”

“well, why the fuck didn’t you tell me?”

“i don’t know. i was nervous.”

a silence filled the room, not awkward. just waiting for someone to figure out the right thing to say.

finally, jj spoke.

“uh— i’m like really hungover.”

you rolled your eyes at the subject change, finding it just like him to do something like that.

“that’s what your gonna say?”

“no, fuck—sorry. can you just sleep in here with me so i can think straight after?”

“you could’ve just said that.”

“well, i just did, didn’t i?”

“i guess. and yeah, i can. scoot over.”

he awkwardly listened to your demand, not used to the feeling of you knowing about his thoughts of you.

you both fell unconscious soon after, unknowingly shiftinging your bodies closer as you slept.

you slept for another hour or two, limbs tangled and intertwined together as your mind tried to decipher if this was a dream, or if your head was really resting on your bestfriends chest.

[predestinatos]

we so lowkey - OP81

pairing: oscar piastri x fem!reader (x tiny bit of charles at the beginning)

summary: "the game is called truth or dare for a reason" | 5k words. warnings underneath. MINORS DNI.

tags: smut, sort of stoner!oscar, jealous charles to drive the plot, college student reader, dirty talking.

warnings: drugs (weed), cigarettes, (consensual) unprotected sex, backshots, a lot of dirty talking, oral (male and female receiving), double orgasm.

notes: sorry for the delay, i have been on a writing slump (ignore the fact that this is 5k words long...) and trying to enjoy my last days with my bf before he leaves on erasmus!! but i hope you guys like this one. lmk your thoughts and thank u for ur patience always!

"I am not getting drunk today" you said, putting your foot down. "I can take tipsy, but not drunk" your friend laughed at your comment but nodded in agreement, both of you acknowledging the fact that you had to calm yourselves down now that exams season approached. "It's just a small get together either way" your friend replied, shrugging. your clothes scattered across your clean room, an off-putting contrast you couldn't avoid. "You know a 'small get together' usually means at least 30 people" you applied lipstick in front of your closet mirror as you observed your friend through it. "He's here" your friend whispered as you entered the living room of the dorm room heavily decorated with alcohol and LED lights. She needn't say who she was referring to, for the name sounded forbidden yet that's what made it so enticing. grabbing yourself a drink and glancing around the room, you realized it really was a rather small group. it seemed comprised of around 20 people, the girl to boy ratio very balanced. if you didn't know better, you'd say this was planned. the first sip of alcohol touched your tongue and you swallowed happily, moving slowly to the rhythm of the music along with your friend. "Will you hate me if i leave you for a second?" she asked, lips close to your ear in nervous secrecy. you merely looked at her brown doe eyes and smiled, the best answer you could give her. You were both in college for more than grades - you were there for the full experience. the regrets, the bodies, the hands, the flirting, the waking up with a headache - it was all part of this phenomenal journey that lasted around 3 years, and you'd enjoy every single one of them. so as she left to go talk to someone, you knew you'd be fine. Of course you would, because as if he was waiting, Charles approached you, all strong perfume smell and smug attitude approaching you. "Didn't know you were coming" his eyes look down at you as he remains close but without touching you, daring you to make the first move. "Me neither, or I wouldn't have come" you spat, eyes shotting up at his, expression unchanging and unaffected, almost please with the reply. cocking his head to the side he brought his hand to your chin, stroking it softly yet teasingly. "You were never good at that when it comes to me" he said, clinking his plastic cup against yours, mocking you in a frustrating yet attractive way. you we're supposed to be having fun, fucking around and getting to know how other bodies fit in your bed, yet for the entirety of this year Charles Leclerc had been the one fulfilling that duty. It frustrated you, how you were so addicted to how he felt and made you feel, how the two of you had more than chemistry, creating friction during lectures and letting it all out during the night.

You weren’t exclusive, nor did you discuss feelings – something the both of you appreciated, since this back and forth between you two was pleasurable enough and it had absolutely zero strings attached. Breathing in deeply, you decided to simply strike him back the way you two enjoyed “what can I say, I’m a good actress.”

He exhaled through his nose with a smile that recognized your humor and your momentary win, a ‘touché’ leaving his lips in perfect French, attractive enough to make you take another sip of your drink in order to focus on something else.

Minutes pass with the music blasting and you and Charles going back and forth between dancing and teasing each other, your mutual attraction clear to everyone around. Yet, after a while, the volume lowered as someone announce “truth or dare! Everyone gather in a circle on the floor please!”

Everyone complied – easily so, given the fact that there weren’t that many people in the room, making it extra personal and giving everyone a chance to talk and meet each other, something you didn’t particularly do. After around 2 minutes, everyone sat enthusiastically, talking to each other with slightly lightheaded giddiness that only came after the right amount of drinks. To your left sat your best friend, side eyeing you disapprovingly at the person to your right – Charles. “Way to meet new people” she said, ironically. Pretending to be mad wasn’t her forte, as she laughed slightly at your predictableness and you shrugged, “c’est la vie!”  “And now you’re speak French?”

The host – a beautiful girl with the most amazing curly hair and prettiest eyes you’d ever seen, sat down and clapped her hands, an “alright!” coming out of her exhale. “We will spin this bottle twice: first chooses truth or dare, second gives the truth or dare. Be interesting, please!” she explained, causing everyone to laugh excitedly.

The bottle spun, landing on a boy who you were sure had had a thing for your friend for the longest time. “Dare” he decided as the bottle spun once again, landing on Charles. “I dare you to text ‘I miss you’ to the 6th person in your contacts” he said smuggishly. Everyone ‘oooh’ed as the boy grabbed his phone and searched for said contact. “Fuck-“ he exhaled, frustrated, “it’s my ex.” Charles merely laughed as he said “those are the rules!” nonchalantly placing a hand on your upper thigh without even a glance. Before you could ask, the boy’s voice exclaimed “done!” as he showcased his screen to everyone in a circle, the hand on your thigh disappearing as fast as it arrived.

A couple of rounds went by, you asking one person about their shittiest sexual experience and more drinks being poured as people kissed each other after being dared to, when, around the 9th time, the bottle landed on the dark brown eyed boy you and your friend always found adorable. His name was Oscar, and he usually kept to himself, coming to these get togethers and hanging out with his own friends shyly, occasionally smoking but never getting too drunk or too high. “Truth” he said, his voice deep and sweet like a caress, contrasting with the way he fidgeted nervously in his seat. For the second time, the bottle landed on Charles, who rubbed is hand in a mockingly villainous way. “Oscar… Who in this circle have you had fantasies about?”

Oscar instantaneously blushes, hand running through his hair nervously with a shy smile across his face, revealing an adorable set of teeth that made you smile as well. “Fuck’s sake…” he exhaled softly, before downing his drink quickly in order to provide him with some confidence to reply. “I’m gonna regret this” he repeats, everyone jokingly complaining about the suspense he was creating. “I’m sorry in advance, Charles” he exclaims, before his arm lifts towards you and your eyes cross. Still bushing but with a darker expression, almost as if reviewing some thoughts he had, his gaze pierced yours making you feel as if he could show you his own thoughts. Everyone ‘oooo’ed once again, clapping and drinking, despite Charles’ body tensing slightly as he said “sorry for what?”

Oscar merely shrugged, “for anything”, an apologetic smile showing up, one you couldn’t ignore.

The game lasted only a few more rounds until the small crowd distracted themselves with each other, getting up to get more drinks and not returning due to slightly drunk forgetfulness. However, even that small amount of time was enough to feel the palpable tension whenever Oscar’s eyes crossed yours, a quick glance away and joke throwing making you almost believe like you had imagined everything. His nonchalant persona combined with the knowledge that he had thought of you in other contexts drew you in, the same way your instant shyness and inability to look away only intensified his desires.

The boy next to you, however, was tenser than you had ever seen him, despite his great attempts at hiding it. Even before you could confront him about it, Charles’ excused himself, claiming that he had an exam first thing in the morning. Eyebrows furrowed, you knew that wasn’t true, but he merely kissed your cheek goodbye and closed the door behind you.

You were frustrated. In more ways than one, your body still very much coherent to take things lightly and carefree. Your leg shook up and down nervously as your best friend sat next to you in a couch, talking to an attractive girl she had her eyes on for a while. Tapping her shoulder lightly, you motioned the ‘gonna smoke’ sign with your hands, to which she smiled in recognition.

Opening the closest window to the balcony that oversaw the city, cold air hitting your lungs, you let your back hit the wall and let out a much needed breath. Grabbing a cigarette, you placed it between your lips as you searched for your lighter, the closeness of the relief imminent in your veins. The technicolor lights shone bright, cars moving like fireflies dancing to the rhythm of the song.

It was white noise that calmed you, the muffled sound of the music restarting in the house as you took more drags of your cigarette. You were so immersed in the sheer act, as if it was a meditation technique, that you barely noticed the light brown haired boy opening and closing the window, placing himself next to you, with a respectable distance between your bodies.

“Have some light?” he asked, and you jumped at the sound of his voice, the realization he was there. You nodded and handed him your lighter, and he thanked you as he lit up a perfectly wrapped blunt. “Sorry, by the way” he exhaled, along with the smoke that got out of his mouth, eyes roaming through the landscape in front.

“No problem, I get startled easily” you replied, admiring his side profile. His features were both hard and soft, eyes shining brightly in such a relaxed expression it mesmerized you, the way he let out a soft chuckle at your response. “I’m not apologizing for that,” he started, filling his lungs once again. “I’m apologizing for earlier.”

This time, he turned his head towards you, and you noticed his flushed cheeks, slight embarrassment still showing even as his body and mind relaxed. “For saying you fantasize about me or for saying sorry to Charles?” you asked, daringly. It had offended you, hurt you, even, that he had apologized to Charles as if the guy owned you, as if that answer needed to pass some sort of approval from him before becoming valid.

Oscar merely shrugged, “both, I suppose.” His eyes seemed a bit sleepier already as they rather shamelessly roamed your body, followed by his head resting against the wall as he looked up. You felt the tension, electrifying both your bodies already, shivers invading your body – maybe from the cold, maybe from the sheer presence of his indifferent frame.

“Was it true?” the question hung the air for a few seconds after it left your lips, your cigarette now almost over. “Depends on if you want it to be true or not,” a dazed giggle mixed between his words.

“I wouldn’t be asking if I didn’t” you crossed your arms in front of your chest after putting out your cigarette in the ashtray next to the balcony. His gaze turned to yours, lowering towards your chest before moving back to your eyes. “The game is called truth or dare for a reason” he answered, leaning sideways against the wall so he could look at you fully.

You rolled your eyes at his sarcasm, though you couldn’t deny how attracted you were to how he played out this nonchalant persona, the indifference contrasting with his words making your body burn.

 “And that,” he started, the hand holding the blunt pointing towards you, in a upwards and downwards movement. “That’s exactly why I have them.” Confusion invaded your mind as you failed to understand what his words meant, although his brown eyes remained on you as if revisiting every thought he ever had. “What?”

“You’re a tease without even realizing it,” he started, closing the distance between you a bit more, eyes glued to your lips as if fighting the urge to kiss you. “Describe them for me” you whispered, using your closeness to your advantage.

“How about I show you?” he whispered back, breath hot against your ear as his index finger ran along the exposed skin of your neck. Though you tensed, feeling your entire body respond to his suggestion, mouth watering, you wanted to play a bit more.

“What about ‘sorry, Charles’?” you mouthed, irony laced all over your smirk as you looked up at him lustfully. Oscar’s gaze scans the inside of the apartment quickly, more figuratively than literally, before turning back to you. “I don’t see him here now, do you?”

His index finger brushed your chin, forcing your gaze towards yours once more. “If I were him I would’ve made sure you only craved me.”

“How?” your voice was hoarse and breathy, your thighs slowly clenching at the need for touch. “Let’s just say my name would be the only thing you’d be able to utter.”

Your eyebrows raised and your breath got stuck in your throat as his lips brushed against you. You felt almost embarrassed at the effect his words and demeanor had on you, requiring little to no touch to get a reaction out of your entire body. This was not the Oscar Piastri you knew from a couple of shared classes, who sat at the back and always left first, who remained in his own zone at parties, interacting with a couple of closest friends. The fact that he was showing a more daring, direct and sexual attitude towards you felt like a compliment, exclusivity being silently attributed to you.

“Didn’t take you for such a fuckboy” you commented, almost as if making sure that this wasn’t actual his usual move, something everybody knew but didn’t talk about, a party trick he commonly used. He chuckled slightly, so close to you that you could see his throat bobbing up and down in though and feel his scent – some very light perfume that faded slightly due to the smell of the joint he was now finishing. “And I’m not,” he smiled, “I just know what I want. And I’ve been wanting you for so fucking long…” he trailed off, his eyes scanning every inch of you with lust, dropping to your lips for a few seconds longer than anywhere else, before returning to your eyes.

Before you knew it, his lips were on yours, ravenous and hungry for you. Your hands were on his soft hair, tugging it ever so slightly as his tongue teased yours and his breathing increased. Gripping your waist, Oscar pinned you against the balcony wall, the people on the other side of it disappearing from both of your minds as soon as you touched. His kissed matched him so well – so careless yet not aggressive nor bad, just confident and slow paced, as if possessing all the time in the world to enjoy every part of you. You couldn’t help but moan at the novelty of it, how different he was, how his touch left your body burning with freezing need for more.

His lips curved into a smile upon hearing you, an aroused gleefulness displayed in between kisses, fueling an ever growing necessity inside both of you. One of his hands rose to your neck, his thumb caressing your cheek sweetly, that touch so opposite from his grip that claimed you as his for a moment.

As soon as that moment came, it went away, his face distancing from yours, one of his hands attempting to fix the mess you had made of his hair. “I need you so bad right now” he whispered, cursing to himself at the loss of composure he ensured he had built. You merely stared at his disheveled look, frustrated desire written across his body as his brown eyes seemed to darken as time went by. You did not dare to speak, afraid no words would come out, brain foggy from sharing the absolute same wish as his: to continue what you started, to finish it completely.

“My dorm room is literally right above this one” he said after a few seconds, steading his breath in order to seem calmer, more relaxed and casual about the clear tension between you. You knew what he meant and knew he wouldn’t be elaborating any further. Knew he would simply go to his room and wait, watching tv as if you showing up – or not – wouldn’t influence much of his night. Like whatever was happening wasn’t happening, like he didn’t just say he needed you.

You replied with a nod as he opened the door and climbed inside, knowing that when you entered that kitchen he wouldn’t be there anymore. You waited a few more minutes, smoking another cigarette as you considered your options, tried to clear your head and think rationally, yet it was hard as every part of your body ached for more of him, your legs weak just from the kiss you shared on the balcony. Finishig your smoke, you climbed inside the kitchen, where people remained unaware of what happened outside, as if you belonged to two different channels that now intertwined.

You searched for your best friend, wanting to let her know where you were going, reassuring that she needn’t worry but that you’d be just one floor above in case she needed something. Finding her was harder than you thought, minutes passing with you growing more nervous at the prospect of Oscar having given up on you, thinking you had done the same with him. Had he more options? Was he this open with every woman he found attractive? These thoughts clouded your mind as your eyes crossed with your best friend’s and she ran towards you. Tipsy, but not drunk. Good. You both filled each other in on what you had missed during the short time you weren’t next to each other, promising to be close if any of you were in need. Her good luck wink gave you all the approval you needed to leave that dorm room and head towards the upper floor.

The floor vibrated with the music underneath – Oscar wasn’t lying when he said it his room was right above – every beat pulsating with energy that matched your own beating heart. Your nervous hands knocked on the door, your mind too aware of your stance, wondering what would be considered normal in a situation like this. But all those thoughts evaporated your mind as the door opened and you were greeted with the mesmerizing view of the boy you had just made out with.

His hair was slightly damp, indicating that he had taken a shower, or was in the middle of one, as you noticed some droplets running across his smooth skin and a towel lazily wrapped around his hips. You felt hypnotized by his slight smirk and unpreoccupied appearance as he step aside to let you in. “Was starting to think you wouldn’t come” he commented as he pointed towards the sofa in the middle of the apartment, sitting casually next to you. “Hence the look” he continued, giggling slightly.

You were too aware of how naked he was and how little he seemed to care about it. He kept a comfortable distance between you, as if allowing you to stand up and leave were you to change your mind. But that wasn’t even an option to you as his eyes landed on your lips, lingering in there before he gently shook his head and looked up at the ceiling. “God, you have me wrapped around your finger” his tone was half joke, half truth, as if he couldn’t believe it himself, how you seemed to so effortlessly produce such an effect on him.

“Well, I was promised something” you shrugged teasingly, your confidence growing as you realized how much he craved you, how this was something he actually wanted for a while. With your comment, his eyes shot back to you, and his body quickly followed, hovering above yours, droplets of water falling delicately on your face as he looked down at you, hands placed on each side of your head. You couldn’t help but bite your lip hungrily, crossing your legs tightly trying to relieve some of the need you were feeling.

Oscar’s eyes remained on your face as he stopped your legs with his own. “No” he whispered with assertion. “You want me to show you want I imagine doing to you, then you’ll have to play your part and look pretty while at it.”

You were shocked at his words and actions and how they affected you, making it so the only thing you could do in response was nod. Your eyes wanted to wander to where the towel threatened to unwrap himself, but Oscar’s soft finger lifted your chin towards him. “Eyes on me” despite it being a command, his voice indicated anything but that. It was calm and reassuring, confident but not cocky.

His thumb grazed across your lower lip, fondling it gently before opening your mouth subtly. He inserted his index and middle finger inside your mouth, pushing smoothly against your tongue. You took it upon yourself to wrap your lips around them, sucking on them, your tongue playing with his skin as you maintained eye contact. “Fuck” he cursed, muscles trembling from trying to keep his position and composure.

After some seconds, he removed his fingers from your mouth, replacing them with his own lips, hungrily possessing you. As he did this, causing your brain to go lightheaded and register little to nothing at all apart from his touch and tongue caressing you, his hand slid down your exposed stomach to the inside of your jeans. Your arms were around his neck, trying to pull him closer despite the impossibility of it – but you needed more. More of him, of his touch and of his body on yours.

His finger caressed your clit softly, satisfying your needs in part, but simultaneously leaving you more frustrated. You couldn’t help but whimper, trying to grind against his teasing hand, hips moving almost instinctively, which caused a sensuous chuckle to leaving his lips. “You sound even better than what I imagined,” his finger dipped lowered towards your entrance, teasing it, playing with your own desperate hunger. “And you’re wetter, too.”

You moaned at his words, and despair invaded your brain, your hands rushing to unbutton your pants and giving Oscar all the liberty of movement, a silent plea for the feeling of him inside you. Your walls clenched around nothing when he pulled your top up, revealing your exposed breasts. His eyes lingered on them as he tasted you, placing his fingers in his mouth while his other hand removed the towel from around his waist.

Finally, you thought, throwing your own jeans on the floor, red lace panties covering little to nothing of the lower half of your body.

His erection sprang free as he dropped the towel as well, the tip glistening with pre cum, its entire length throbbing. His hand wrapped around it as he took the entire sight of you in, eyelids revealing a drunken thrill as his breath became more irregular.

“I thought about this so many fucking times” he started, not with longing but with a primal urge to have you, a matter-of-fact tone in his voice that caused your whole body to erupt in need. “Come here”

Oscar positioned himself on his knees at the edge of the couch, continuously stoking himself as you moved towards him on all fours, not daring to look away from the sheer sight of him. Pulling your hair, he directed your face towards his erection, pressing it against your lips. You opened your mouth and enveloped him slowly, savoring the salty taste of him as your tongue explored his length. Each one of your caresses made him groan and sigh in pleasure, your head bobbing up and down underneath him.

The sight of you was beautifully overwhelming to him, especially as you started grinding your hips against nothing at all. “Fuck, if I knew you wanted it this bad I would… I would’ve done this earlier” he struggled to say, mesmerized at how your eyes looked up at him, ecstasy-filled.

You moaned against his cock, vibrations traveling throughout his body as he jerked his hips up, deeper into you, more than what you thought possible. You teared up with the suddenness of it, though it made you dizzy with pleasure.

That pleasure was short-ended as his hand pulled your hair softly, an indication for you to stop. As he removed himself from inside your mouth, a string of saliva connected you both, your lips now swollen and red, shiny with spit.

Oscar lowered himself in order to kiss you while laying you on the sofa once again, his mouth leaving wet marks all over your body until it reached the area underneath your bellybutton. He blew softly on your skin, and goosebumps invaded your body as he pulled your underwear down and off of you, hands now placed around your thighs, opening them with fervor. Before you could register the coldness hitting your now exposed skin, his face buried in between your legs, licking you softly as his damp hair touched the skin on your thighs.

The warmth of his mouth contrasted with his still-wet hair, your mind clouded by wanting to wrap your legs around him and the instinct to pull away from the cold. He grinned against your wet pussy before sucking your clit, your hands flying towards his hair, pushing him against you.

“So needy…” he whispered, readjusting himself so he could bury two fingers into you and keep his attention on your clit, devouring you. His tongue sent your body into frenzied shivers, his name escaping your lips incoherently. His fingers intensified their pace, sliding in and out of you and curling inside you. “Fuck, you taste so good” he mumbled, “and my name sounds so good when you whimper it” he now looked at you intently, analyzing your pleasure with so much attention it almost made you blush – were your cheeks not red due to the heat of the desire. It was all so much, so much you couldn’t focus on it all, your body erupting into an orgasm, walls pulsating around his fingers, his gaze adoring your body and all of its movements.

Your chest rose and fell almost as fast as your heart beat, and you giggled, actually giggled, from how lightheaded you felt. “I need to see and hear that again” he stared, more than asked you, although he remained in place, only his hand slowly pulling out from inside you, covered in your juices. He wasted no time in wrapping it around his own erection, now even more visibly hungry for something – someone. You.

“Please” he pleaded, suddenly looking so greedy, so needy and desperate. For some reason, this reignited the desire within you, and although your body was still recovering from the intoxicating orgasm, you were ready to do it all again.

“Do I keep going in your fantasy?” you asked, voice hoarse and breathy. His eyes widened slightly, the pace of his movement as he worked himself up increased as he nodded. “Then why are you asking me?” you told him, the fact that you consented implicit in your tone, your legs spreading apart for him to gawk at.

He barely needed two seconds before positioning himself between your legs once again, the tip of his cock rubbing against your entrance. “You’re soaking” he tried saying, stumbling across some vowels due to his own excitement. “I don’t know if I can last much” he slowly entered you, savoring as every inch buried deeper inside you, “you drive me fucking crazy.”

Your eyes rolled the back of your head at how he filled you up, at his praise as he did so, at how good he sounded when incoherence and pleasure laced his words. His hips moved, at first in a slow, consistent, pace, which quickly changed after some seconds, along with his breathing.

His eyebrows furrowed as your nails dug into his back, the sudden pain feeling so thrilling when mixed with the pleasure of being inside you. “Turn around” he said, pulling himself out of you for less than a second, giving you only time to lay on your stomach with your ass in the air.

That position allowed for him to go even deeper inside you, to hear you scream in pleasure as your own hand touched your clit in desperate need for more release. “You like that?” he asked in between breaths, knowing he could barely hold it any longer.

You tried saying the word ‘yes’ but even that failed you, your vision cloudy and your head foggy as you felt him close to release. His moans increased in loudness and intensity, your name being one of the few coherent things he could say before pulling himself out of you and orgasming, his cum spread across your back.

You couldn’t do anything but succumb to your own pleasure erratically, the simultaneous nature of your orgasms driving you into your own craziness.

Your body collapsed on the couch as his pressed tightly against you, both of you trying to gather your thoughts. Lying on his back, his head now looking at the ceiling, Oscar turned to you softly. “Want to sleep over?”

Your plan was not going to work.

[pandapetals]

Guys Night

Logan goes out with the guys getting wasted making me a big softie.

professor logan howlett x professor fem!reader - married couple, cute, fluff, teasing, no y/n used, no reader description, your an english professor, logan is a history professor - imagine days of future past logan with the white streaks in his hair

a/n: Okay yes i know it’s lowkey impossible for logan to get drunk but idc i need him to just be a cutie and plus i loved writing girls night so whatever.

read on ao3 or find more parts for the series: here

divider credit: @enchanthings

Logan had slowed down on the drinking after meeting you. What had once been a daily habit—a crutch to get him through the long, empty nights—had become more of an occasional indulgence. His healing factor made it nearly impossible for him to get drunk anyway, but the act of drinking had always been more about comfort than effect. A familiar ritual he could hold on to.

But when you woke up at 1:28 a.m. to the unmistakable sound of raucous laughter and slurred shouts echoing through the mansion, you knew something was off.

The soft click of the hallway light flickered on as you slipped out of bed, still groggy but now very awake with confusion. Opening the bedroom door, you stepped into the hallway just in time to see Jean doing the same, her brows furrowed as she looked down the stairs.

"Do you hear that?" she asked, her voice hushed but tense with curiosity.

You nodded, falling in step beside her as the two of you headed toward the source of the commotion. The muffled sound of laughter grew louder as you descended the stairs, and by the time you reached the bottom, the scene unfolding in front of you was... well, chaotic would be an understatement.

There, in the middle of the living room, stood Logan—or, more accurately, half stood while being supported by Bobby, Scott, Kurt, and Hank. Logan’s usually stoic and composed figure was now swaying precariously, his arms draped over Bobby and Scott's shoulders while his head lolled back with a dopey grin on his face.

"Logan, man," Bobby was saying through his own laughter, struggling to keep his balance under Logan’s weight, "you gotta be quiet, dude, or you’re gonna wake up the whole mansion!"

You and Jean both stopped short at the edge of the stairs, taking in the absurdity of the scene. Logan, who could barely get tipsy on the strongest whiskey, was absolutely, unapologetically drunk. His cheeks were flushed, his eyes glassy, and he was laughing—a loud, booming, uncharacteristic laugh that you hadn’t heard in... well, maybe ever.

"Oh my God," Jean whispered, her eyes wide with amusement. "Is that Logan?"

You shook your head, though you couldn’t suppress the smile creeping onto your face. "My Logan," you corrected, watching in mild disbelief as he tried and failed to take a step forward, his knees buckling under him, sending Bobby and Scott staggering.

"I love you guys," Logan slurred loudly, throwing his head back again. "Yer all... yer all great! I don’t say it enough... but I mean it. You're... you're my family." His words were barely coherent, each sentence slurred into the next.

Kurt was biting back laughter as he supported Logan’s other side, his tail flicking with amusement. "Logan, you’re very... affectionate tonight."

Scott, on the other hand, wasn’t quite as amused. "He weighs a ton!" he grunted, trying to shift Logan’s arm more securely around his shoulder. "Why am I doing this again?"

"Because you love me!" Logan announced, his voice far too loud for the middle of the night. "C'mon, Cyclops, admit it—you love me!"

Scott's face twisted into a mix of frustration and laughter. "Let’s just get him to the couch before he takes us all down with him."

Before they could manage that, Logan spotted you standing by the stairs. His entire face lit up in an almost childlike way. "Hey!" he called, his voice practically a shout. "There’s my girl!" He tried to step toward you, nearly pulling everyone down in the process, before Bobby and Scott yanked him back.

"Logan!" you exclaimed, hurrying over to him. "What the hell is going on?"

His eyes found yours, and for a second, the chaos seemed to fade as he focused on you, his grin growing impossibly wider. "You’re the best thing... the best thing that’s ever happened to me," he slurred, his words heavy with sincerity. "I love you... I love you so much, darlin’."

Your heart softened for a moment, but then Logan, seemingly overwhelmed with emotion, suddenly became teary-eyed, his expression shifting from joyous to oddly vulnerable.

"And I never told you about that time," he started, his words blurring together, "when I... when I broke Hank’s favorite mug by accident, and I blamed it on Bobby... I’m sorry, Hank! It was me!"

Hank blinked, clearly surprised, though amusement danced in his eyes. "Noted," he said, shaking his head.

Logan hiccupped and continued, completely unbothered by the tears spilling down his cheeks. "And that time I ate all of Jean's cookies and said it was an emergency ration!" He looked over at Jean, who was covering her mouth, trying not to laugh. "I’m sorry, Jean... they were so good."

By this point, Scott and Bobby were both cracking up, barely able to hold Logan up as he continued confessing all sorts of things—half of them making no sense.

"You’ve got to be kidding me," you said, half laughing, half exasperated, as you walked up to him. Gently, you brushed your hand against his cheek, wiping away one of his tears. "Logan, why did you let them get you this drunk?"

"I didn’t," he mumbled, looking adorably confused. "I just... I was just gonna have a drink... then Bobby bet me I couldn’t finish five bottles of whiskey."

Bobby raised his hands in mock surrender. "Hey, I didn’t know it was actually possible!"

Logan hiccupped again, his glassy eyes focusing back on you, and without warning, he pulled you into an awkward, lopsided hug, nearly knocking you off balance. "I love you, sweetheart," he whispered dramatically, his words slurring against your hair. "You’re perfect. I don’t... I don’t deserve you."

You couldn't help but smile, your heart melting despite the ridiculousness of it all. "Alright, big guy," you said, patting his back. "Let’s get you to the couch before you start confessing more stuff."

Logan blinked down at you, his expression suddenly serious as he sniffled. "You’re gonna marry me, right?" he asked, his voice soft and vulnerable in a way that made your chest ache.

You looked up at him, gently guiding him toward the couch as the others helped ease him down. "Logan," you said, your voice soft but full of love. "We’re already married."

He smiled and then promptly passed out, his head lolling to the side as his body went limp on the couch.

The next morning, Logan was a mess. He stumbled into the kitchen with a massive hangover, rubbing his temples as if the slightest sound would split his skull. His usual gruffness was turned up a notch as he poured himself some coffee, avoiding eye contact with everyone in the room.

Of course, no one was going to let him live it down.

"So," Scott stated, smirking from across the table, "how are you feeling this morning, buddy?"

"Shut it, Summers," Logan muttered, wincing at the sound of Scott’s voice.

"Oh, and Logan?" Jean chimed in, barely suppressing a grin. "I think you owe me some cookies."

Logan groaned, putting his head in his hands as the rest of the team burst into laughter.

You leaned against the kitchen counter, a cup of coffee in hand, watching the whole exchange unfold with an amused grin. Logan sat hunched over at the table, his head in his hands, and looked like he wanted to disappear into the floor.

"Rough night?" you asked, your voice laced with teasing, as you took a sip of your coffee.

Logan grunted without looking up, clearly in no mood for jokes. "Don’t even start," he muttered, his voice hoarse.

"Oh, I’m not starting anything," you said innocently, stepping closer to the table. "Just wondering if you remember anything from last night."

He groaned again, finally lifting his head just enough to squint at you through bloodshot eyes. "I don’t remember shit," he said, grimacing. "All I know is I woke up on the couch with a headache the size of Canada and everyone won’t shut up about it."

You couldn’t help the mischievous smile that spread across your face. "Oh, so you don’t remember the part where you confessed all your deep, dark secrets? Like that time you blamed Bobby for breaking Hank’s favorite mug?"

Logan's eyes widened slightly, and he looked at you in mild horror. "I... said that?"

You nodded, doing your best to keep a straight face. "Mmhmm. And the cookies. Don’t forget about the cookies."

Jean chimed in from the other side of the room. "Still waiting on those replacements, by the way."

Logan groaned again, sinking back into his chair. "Hell."

"But, you know," you said, leaning over the back of his chair, your voice softening as you teased him, "the best part was when you got all emotional."

Logan’s brows furrowed in confusion, and he glanced up at you, still squinting from the pain of his hangover. "Emotional?"

"Oh, yeah," you said, nodding solemnly. "You were crying—crying, Logan. Full-on tears."

Logan’s expression was one of complete disbelief. "No way," he muttered, shaking his head. "I don’t cry."

You grinned, raising your eyebrows. "You did last night. You were telling everyone how much you love them... even Scott."

At that, Logan looked downright mortified. "I said I loved Summers?" he asked, his voice filled with dread.

Scott, still smirking from across the kitchen, gave him a mocking salute. "Love you too, Logan."

Logan’s face twisted into a grimace, clearly regretting every life choice that had led him to this moment. "Kill me now," he muttered, rubbing his temples like the hangover was suddenly the least of his worries.

You couldn’t hold back your laughter any longer, the sound spilling out of you as you wrapped your arms loosely around his shoulders from behind, pressing a kiss to the top of his head. "Oh, don’t worry. It was adorable," you teased, your voice playful but warm. "You even pulled me into a hug and told me how I’m the best thing that ever happened to you."

He blinked up at you, clearly trying to process everything. "I said all that?"

You nodded, a soft smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah, you did." You paused, leaning down so your lips brushed his ear. "And it only made me love you more."

For a moment, Logan’s expression softened, his eyes meeting yours with something vulnerable in them. He let out a quiet sigh, his hand reaching up to rest over yours, pulling you closer. "You’re messin’ with me, aren’t you?" he asked, though his voice was quieter now, less gruff.

You laughed softly, brushing your fingers through his messy hair. "A little," you admitted, "but you really did say all that. And for the record, I thought it was sweet."

He groaned again, his head dropping. "I’m never drinkin' again," he muttered, his voice filled with regret.

"Oh, I don’t know," you said with a smirk. "It was kind of fun seeing you like that. So... open." You leaned down to kiss his cheek, feeling the warmth of his skin beneath your lips. "Plus, it’s not every day I get to hear you confess all your feelings."

Logan huffed, but you could see the hint of a smile tugging at the corner of his lips. "Guess I can live with that part," he mumbled.

"Good," you whispered, your lips brushing against his ear again, "because I plan on reminding you of it every chance I get."

Logan let out a low growl, his hand tightening on yours as he pulled you around to sit in his lap. Despite his hangover and his grumbling, there was a softness in his eyes as he looked at you, one that made your heart flutter.

"You’re trouble, you know that?" he said, his voice a rough murmur as his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you close.

You smiled, leaning into him, your forehead resting against his. "Only for you, big guy."

"Love you too, sweetheart," Logan whispered, the words gruff but real, the softness in his voice all for you.

[wolverinesleftclaw]

passenger princess +18

warning : kinda dark at some points, age gap, kinda public sex, afab, age gap, fem!reader, peachesxlogan, slight manipulation, dacryphilia kinda, pure smut, little plot, spitting, choking, fingering, breeding kink, creampie, dom!logan, kinda mean logan, not proofread!

a/n : wrote this sitting by the pool today, makes me think i’m solar powered or something cause i cooked lowkey.

written for my dear : @journal3sposts 💌 word count : 1.5k

you’d been here before. tipsy after a night out with ness and wade, in the passenger seat of logan’s car basically begging him to fuck you. the man had self control for the gods and you hated it.

the age gap between you and logan was substantial, you being the young age of twenty three. logan may not have looked a day over forty-five physically but sexually he had a hard time keeping up with you. especially when alcohol got involved.

you’re argument whenever he’d bring up how much you need him being ‘have you seen yourself? you’d want to fuck you too’

tonight was no different. except for the fact that not matter what happened he was fucking you in this car.

you turned in your seat to face logan pulling his hand higher on your thigh.

‘cmon lo, please jus’ wanna feel you’ you beg running your hand up his muscular arm to his neck turning his head toward you.

logan’s eyes stared down into you intimidatingly a small smirk gracing his beautiful face.

‘no’

roughly moving his head out of your hand facing the road again. huffing your cross your arms turning your body to face the window trying to hide your mischievous smile.

‘your seriously turning me down’

‘yes peaches i am’

‘i would’ve taken one of those guys from the bar home then if i knew you weren’t going to fuck me’ you snark out shaking his hand off your thigh ‘their young too, could probably keep up with me. i know you saw the way they all stared at me, at least someone wants me’

you don’t miss the way his hand flexes around the steering wheel and his jaw tightening before looking over at you.

‘you’re being a brat’ he bluntly states

‘yea and what are you going to do about it’ you sass out keeping your gaze locked on the outside view, your thighs clenching together for friction.

‘i’m gunna bring you back to the bar so you can go get one of those guys’

you’re head snaps up to look at him in panic watching him take a left turn instead of the usual right turn.

‘wait what’ you question

‘cmon you can’t be that dumb doll, i’m taking you to find someone who can keep up with you’ he glares

‘no lo, i was just kidding’ you rush out grabbing his forearm in protest ‘only want you’

‘mhm’ he hums, you notice the bar coming back into your line of vision your grip getting tighter on his arm.

‘please baby i promise i don’t want any of them’

you always did this. talked yourself into a hole and then couldn’t get out. one thing you knew for sure is that there was no other man for you.

‘i don’t know…’ his tone borderline mocking, not that you notice too caught up in the way he pulls the car around the back of the bar.

‘i promise lo’ you beg as he puts the car in park.

logan turns his whole body to face you, his broad shoulders blocking your view outside his window. he stares at you the tears lining your eyes from frustration, the pleading look adorning your soft features.

fuck it turned him on.

you loved playing your games, he knew that. but he wasn’t an idiot he could play the games too. i’m his opinion he could play them better.

he knew how to manipulate you to get you to do whatever he wanted, and in this moment he wanted you to beg for his forgiveness, not because he did anything wrong but because he wanted you to remind that you couldn’t live without him.

he could hear your heart, the never ending fast paced rhythm almost irregular at this point.

he could smell your arousal, how even though you were a nervous wreck thinking he was leaving you here you still wanted him bad enough.

he liked that.

true to his nature in that moment you were his prey, sitting pretty on the leather seats in his car.

his favorite fantasy.

eyes blown wide you waited for his next move, you feared it would never come.

you were surprised when his rough hands grabbed either side of your face roughly kissing you, grabbing you by your waist pulling you into his lap.

you clung onto him as if you let go he’d disappear. your movements desperate, grinding down onto his growing bulge.

you moan out when he bites your lip harshly drawing blood, you hands run up his neck and into his hair breaking the kiss ‘need you so bad’ you mumble out

‘you’ll always need me huh peaches?’ he grunts out bringing the bottom of your dress just above your hips ‘no panties tonight’ he questions

nodding your head and biting your lip with a smile on your face he groans.

‘what am i gunna do with you’

‘fuck me’

‘no i don’t think you deserve that yet’ he hums his hand finding solace on your upper thigh is fingers tracing small circles all the up to where you needed him most.

bucking your hips in a poor attempt to get him to touch you he withdraws his hand entirely looking at you with a raised eyebrow.

‘what do you want’ he asks his hand moving to your face his finger tracing you jaw.

you heavy breathing only stirring him on more as you breath out ‘i want you to touch me’

he chuckles lightly shaking his head ‘yea? where?’ he says.

your cheeks turn red as you bury your face into his neck leaving kisses in your wake. ‘please don’t make me say it’ you beg

his hand runs up your bag finding it’s place in your hair tugging hard removing your head from his neck, he turns your head downwards to face him. ‘say it’ he demands his eyes darkening at your defiance.

‘want you to touch my pussy please lo’ you cry out as soon as the words leave your mouth, him plunging his middle and ring finger into your tight cunt.

‘like this’ he questions never stopping the never ending curl of his fingers inside you.

‘yes, oh god’ you moan out your hips meeting each thrust of his fingers, his lips moving from your jaw to your neck.

you moan out when he sinks his canines into the side of your neck roughly. ‘gunna cum for me peaches?’

unable to form a solid thought you nod your head throwing his back closing your eyes.

‘gotta look at me when you cum around my fingers darlin’ he speaks roughly bring my head back to focus on him.

the bubble in your lower stomach tightening enough that it sends you over the edge, your hips freezing their movements, your grip tightening on the man before you as you come undone for what’s most likely the first time tonight.

holding you tight against his chest logan lights you up enough for him to free his cock from its confines. letting a string of spit fall onto his member he throws his head back as his moves his hand around the head.

‘m gunna fuck you now peaches’ he grunts out before slamming you down onto his member. not even giving you the chance to adjust to his length before he’s pushing you up and down making you take all of him.

you couldn’t form a single thought other than how no man will ever be able to satisfy you in the way logan does.

his name leaving your mouth like he was your god and you were on you knees for him.

his hand finds it place on your neck squeezing both sides of it cutting off your air supply.

‘this is what you wanted huh peaches? for me to fuck you like the whore you are in the parking lot where anyone of those boys can see just how good i fuck you’ he speaks roughly, his grip never letting up, his thumb pushing under your chin so you were looking up at him.

‘open’ he commands collecting his saliva in his mouth loosing his hold on your neck.

you oblige, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out ready for him.

he spits harshly in your mouth, the grip on your neck tightening again ‘swallow it’ he continues his assault on your cunt.

you felt the familiar warmth spreading throughout your body as your obeyed him swallowing. the tight band flexing beyond its limit as you clench unrelentingly around his cock.

‘that’s it’s peaches you gunna cum with me huh?’ he grunted his movements turning sloppy ‘gunna let me fill you up huh? give you my babies so you can never leave me’

his words throwing you over the edge as you scream out his name clamping down on him with shaking legs as he cums inside of you, grunting and groaning in your ear as he comes down from his high.

breathing heavily he throws his head against the head rest, still inside of you he gives you a lazy smile.

‘can’t keep up with you? not sure if your gunna be able to keep up with me, cause we’re not done here peaches’

taglist : my bby @cevansbaby-dove @rogueinmymind @rosewine-5 @caramelatae @catastrophe8866slut @barnes1487d @lexiway121 @ms-e-com @nayyomi @spookyfunhottub @megangovier @aphestina @txtgojou @its-not-about-angels @sammysvers @modrooli @twinky-wink @orisquirrelking @car1er @sseleniaa @nudziaraaa @pinkfloydsimp @scarlett-witchhh @shiawaseorii @sephirothhh @sturnizd @chaoticweirdogeek @magpiemayhem @hearts4suri @f4tnu663ts @tvdxavatarxst @vivas-xiv @k1t-k4ts @hettie1spam @sssprivlmaoo @rockytheluver @saturnluvvr @mysticpidge @sl4sh3r @ginamcflurry @malavera @reynaandeny @rissararity @angellreads @xoxoloverb

[divab0dy]

after party

patrick zweig x gn afab reader

contains: smut MDNI, awkward! pat, lowkey sub!pat, switch!reader, piv, unprotected sex, fingering, friends to fuckers, porn with very very little plot, 3kish words

authors note: this is my first upload to tumblr ever so i hope it all goes well and please give me advice of i actually suck or something

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you were at some dinner for some tennis thing. you had no idea honestly. just tipsy enough to not be paying attention to anything else around you. pat had invited you the night before, not having the capacity to remember even the important stuff.

someone had gotten some award for something at some tennis match, and you weren't sure that pat and art would be able to fill in the details for you either after that pregame. but it didn't matter, you were just happy to be there.

right now the party was winding down, the three of you celebrating with some marlboro reds out front of the venue.

"you ready do go?" pat asks, flicking his cigarette to the ground and stomping it out.

you reach up to take his hand as he pulls you up off the front stoop.

"will you guys walk me back? it's late." you ask.

"fffffuck no" art shivers. "sorry but i am running back to our dorm" he taps pat on the shoulder.

"i'll walk you" pat reassures. "i'll see you back at the dorm then" he turns to art as you guys walk.

"see ya" art says before turning and jogging across the street towards their dorm.

"he's so drunk maybe you should've walked him home" you smile.

"he'll make it back just fine, it's you i'm worried about."

"and why's that?" you look up at him, still walking.

"you just couldn't listen to me when i told you to bring a jacket could you?"

"please im fine, it's southern california."

"it's night and it's winter. and you're shivering."

"stop worrying about me, worry about yourself big shot. maybe next award show, you'll be getting the award." you smile up at him.

"yeah i don't think so" he slides his jacket off of his shoulders.

"no pat" you push it back towards him as he holds it out for you.

"okay good because it's really fucking cold." he slides it back on.

"i knew you weren't a gentleman."

"not to you" he laughs.

"oh pat i'm sure you take all of your women out before you fuck them." you sigh. "or men."

"i am not fucking art" he laughs. "i don't know how many times we have to have this conversation."

"yeah sure you're not patrick 'i'll see you at the dorm' zweig."

"i will! i will see him back at the dorm, what's wrong with saying that."

"i'll see you back at the dorm, ya know when my dick is inside you. pat we both know what you meant by that."

"stop before i decide to let you walk home on your own." he says playfully.

"sorry sorry no more talking about your boyfriend." you laugh. "isn't it kind of stupid to drink the night before a match?" you switch conversations.

"it's an afternoon match, and i didn't drink that much, not as much as art."

"oh and here his name comes up again." you jab.

he laughs as you approach your dorm building.

"you wanna come in? i redid the place." you beam.

"yeah sure" you both enter the building and make your way up to your dorm.

"sooo this is the place... see i moved the bed. more feng shui or some bullshit."

"i like it." he seats himself on your bed.

"you gonna stay a while?" you wonder.

"yeah" he breathes, laying back on your tiny twin. "if that's okay" he adds, straining his neck to look at you.

"well you've already made yourself at home."

he laughs and sits up on his elbows. you take a seat on the bed next to him, sitting up higher, back against the wall. he turns to his side, still propped up on his elbow to look at you.

"you looked good tonight, i don't know if i said that already." as he speaks, he looks away.

"i don't think you've ever said that."

"i mean it you look good. not just tonight either."

you blush and look away. "you're drunk pat."

"no i'm not, i barely had anything to drink."

"don't... don't compliment me weirdo." you push his shoulder.

"sorry for trying to be nice." he sighs, turning away from you to look at the ceiling.

"you have literally not once complimented me."

"bullshit i compliment your backhand all the time. wish i fucking had it."

"i meant my looks, and your backhands good too to be fair."

"well you do look good, maybe i don't say it enough." he drops his head back on the bed.

"what's with the sudden rush of affection, hm?"

"i don't know, maybe i'm feeling extra nice."

"you look good too" you blurt, feeling the embarrassment immediately preceding your words.

now it's his turn to blush and look away, turning his head to the other side.

"what's a matter patty? can't take a compliment." your hand comes to cup his jaw and turn his head.

"don't..." he looks into your eyes.

suddenly you can't help the question that surges out of your chest. "why did you invite me patrick?"

he knows he can't lie to you. not when you're looking at him with those soft eyes. "i wanted people to think you were coming as my date." he breathes, eyes still laser focused on yours.

"was i?" you smile down at him.

"we're you?"

you ignore his question and lean in to kiss him, craning your neck.

you take his top lip in between yours, your noses smushing together. he sucks on your bottom lip before trying to pry your mouth open with his own. you get the point and let him in, his tongue immediately licking into your mouth.

as he sits up you take the hint and climb into his lap, pulling back.

"are we taking things too fast?" you lace your fingers into his hair.

"no, please no." his begging lips look so appealing.

a smile grows on your face. "good because i want you so fucking bad right now." he smiles in response. your hands tug at his shirt.

the top button of his polo is undone in an instant and he pulls it over his head. fuck he looks good.

your needy hands find their way to his chest trailing over toned muscles. its not that you haven't seen it before, its just that this is so, so different.

he takes the initiative, flipping you over onto your back, now onto top of you and you can't help but wrap your legs around him.

"how long have you wanted this?" you whisper, looking him in the eye.

"so long, please just let me..." and you can feel him pressing against your inner thigh as he trails off.

"you can do anything you want" you smile up at him.

"don't... don't tell me that." he takes your hand from his chest and squeezes it.

you smile up at him and sit up, sliding your shirt off.

"oh fuck" he sighs, leaning back down to kiss you.

the kiss is passionate, more rushed than before. tongues shoving into each others mouths as he shamelessly begins to rut against you. he pulls back, panting into your mouth.

"you need more pat?" you whisper.

"please" he groans, still grinding into you.

"why don't you take these off hm?" your fingers hook on his waistband.

"yeah" he breathes, shifting to tug them off. you sit up as he does. the room suddenly feels like its on fire and you're burning up watching him. it's nothing new, seeing him like this, he is a slut to be fair. walking out of the shower, or lounging around the dorm in the hot summer. but the way he's looking at you, soft, almost nervous eyes, and the way his chest is rising and falling so quickly is unfamiliar.

"can i..." he looks up at you suddenly, almost forgetting you were there.

"what?" he says softly, cheeks rosy.

"can you take these off?" you ask, grabbing at his boxers.

he lets out a low sigh and nods as he lifts his hips to tug them off. as gently as you can, you place a hand on his shoulder, afraid that if you move to quickly, he'll decide he doesn't want this after all.

deciding that if he won't ask, you'll just do, you start to unbutton your pants. he inhales sharply, watching you with careful eyes.

"you're so pretty," his helping hands come to assist you with the zipper, pulling your jeans and underwear down your legs.

"you too" shaky hands lace into his hair as you lay back down, pulling him on top of you.

"stop talking like that" he lets out a breathy laugh.

"talking like what?" you smile, hearing his laugh.

"like you like me" he says playfully.

"i do like you."

"well stop talking about it, it's making me nervous."

"you can touch me ya know... or is that going to make you more nervous?" you laugh softly.

"no" his hand finds your waist, stabilizing himself on his forearm next to your head.

"i didn't mean like that." you laugh and shake your head, taking his hand from where it is, moving it up to your mouth. as you push his middle and ring finger into your mouth you can feel him shiver. looking up at him with soft eyes, he fucking moans, watching you take his fingers in your mouth.

"oh fuck don't look at me like that."

popping his fingers out of your mouth, you giggle. "you don't want me to do anything."

"everything you do makes me nervous." he sighs as you guide his hand down.

"all the time or just now."

"all the time, it's just worse now because you can see my dick."

"that's making you nervous?"

"obviously."

"why? i like it."

"see that's what i mean... don't... don't say that." he sighs.

"i can't say i like you're dick when you're literally on top of me naked? patrick do you know that we're about to fuck?"

"stop talking you're making me nervous." he sighs, letting you continue to guide his hand.

"okay patty." you guide his fingers to press up against your clit gently, shuddering as he applies pressure. he moves his fingers down, prodding at your entrance. "fuck pat be gentle with me."

his eyes squeeze shut and he takes a deep breath. "yeah, okay." starting gently with his already wet fingers, he slides his middle finger inside of you, curling it.

as he hears you let out a breathy moan, he gains confidence, adding his ring finger. "is that... is that okay?"

"i didn't mean that gentle pat, i've fingered myself before."

"yeah... sorry." he continues, adding his thumb to rub your clit slowly.

"it's okay" your hands move to tug at his hair and he whines. "still nervous?"

"less" he sighs, his fingers picking up a rhythm.

"feels good pat..." you moan, your ees fluttering shut. he groans in response, speeding up the pressure on your clit but keeping his fingers at the same place.

"why didn't you say anything?" he asks, quietly.

"what?" you goan.

"why didn't you ever say that you liked me?"

"fuck- pat, i thought... i thought you didn't like me..." you manage.

"of course i like you."

"keep- stop... stop talking i'm close."

he nods, fingers speeding up.

"keep doing that please im gonna- fuck." you finish, shaking on his fingers as you let your orgasm wash over you, clenching down on him.

"fuck you're so pretty" he sighs, taking his fingers out. bringing his hands up to his mouth, he sucks on his fingers, letting his eyes fall shut.

"pat if you don't fuck me right now i'm actually going to strangle you." and how could he say no to that? how could he say no to anything when you look like that.

he nods. "i can do that... yeah."

wrapping your legs around him, you squeeze his waist with your thighs. as he guides himself to press against you, you both moan.

he starts pressing it inside, very slowly as you open up around him.

"fuck pat you're so big" you hiss as he nudges inside of you.

he pauses to squeeze his eyes shut at your words, needing a moment. he continues, slowly, his eyes flicking from your face to where your greedy pussy is taking him inch by inch, so, so fucking good.

he's searching your face for an ounce of discomfort and doesn't find any when he bottoms out.

"just... just stay like that for a minute please?" your face screws up, getting used to the stretch.

"yeah it's okay, as much time as you need." he sighs, so very grateful that you're asking him to stay put so he doesn't have to tell you that he won't last if he moves.

you take a moment as he breathes into your neck, panting softly.

"okay i'm ready" you breathe. he pulls out, as gently as he can, trying not to hurt you. he groans as you clench down on him, already overstimulated from your last orgasm.

"fuck you're so tight" he sighs into your neck.

you tug on his hair. "want to look at you" you whine. both of your eyes meet and he looks like he could cry as he ever so gently pushes back into you. "i can't believe it took us this long to do this."

"you should have told me you wanted this earlier." as he reaches for your hand, he keeps eye contact, grabbing your hand and squeezing it hard.

"you should have told me," your heals dig into the backs of his thighs, pushing him as deep as possible and he groans loudly. covering his mouth with your hand you whisper. "you've gotta be quiet pat, people are still awake," his pleading eyes meet yours.

"fuck i'm not gonna last if you keep looking at me like that" he keeps up with the same speed.

"then don't."

he groans, picking up the pace at your words. his hips meat yours over and over again. the only sounds in the room are your heavy panting, his breathy moans and the soft sound of skin clapping. breath fans over your face as he gains even an ounce of composure, something he so desperately needs. you can smell the natty light, the cigarettes, the gum. you can feel the callouses on his hands, the sweat, the neediness of his grabs. you can hear the moans erupting from his chest, somewhere deeper than anything you've heard of him playing tennis. it's all so real. you can feel it all at once and it's almost too much.

"fuck you feel so good, i can't believe you're letting me do this" his eyes never leaving yours.

"i can't believe you're fucking me like this... shit- i should have told you sooner, i'm sorry patty."

"fuck stop... stop squeezing me like that i'm not... fuck" he groans, his hips slowing down.

"what-"

"i don't wanna cum yet, i wanna get you there first."

"fuck you're doing so good."

he changes the angle as your legs pull him in. now he's hitting in all of the right places, the pleasure near doubling as he fucks you like he needs you. like if he doesn't you'll both die. like if he stops, you'll fade at his finger tips. he hits a particular spot that makes you squeeze his hand and gasp out a choked moan. he begins abusing it, like it's his to use, which it is. you'd let him do anything to you if he keeps looking at you with those soft blue eyes.

"fuck i'm so close" you gasp.

"please cum, i need to- need to feel it... fuck-" his hips are stuttering.

you reach your hand down to start rubbing over your clit at a rough pace, already so, so fucking close.

"i'm cumming pat fuck i'm-" your moans are pornographic as you shake and clench down on him, gasping for air as your body rocks with ecstasy.

"i can't- i can't pull out, fuck- it's too good, i'm gonna- fuck, thank you, thank you." his words are barely comprehensible as you can feel him cumming inside of you, chanting your name with his hips rocking into you as far as they can.

you sigh toying with his hair as he rides it out, hips lazily grinding into your body.

he practically collapses on top of you.

"was that okay? i'm sorry i can buy you-"

"it's okay i'm on birth control."

"thank you" he's pulling out and getting off of you, rolling to the side and suddenly you feel so fucking empty.

"for what?" you laugh.

"for letting me..." he trails off, becoming shy to his own words.

you laugh, not exactly knowing how to respond. "so how long have you wanted to fuck me?" you ask as you stand up.

"like two years... wait you don't think that's all i want right?"

you look back at him, cocking an eyebrow.

"i mean i like you, actually as a friend... wait no not... like i have romantic feelings for you, i want you, more than to... hook up with."

"aww," you throw on some old shorts, climbing back onto your bed next to him. "i like you too pat."

"okay good." he lets out a sigh of relief.

"i told you... like twice."

"i know but i just didn't want it to be something that you said in the heat of the moment, and didn't actually mean it." you slide under your covers, pulling them on top of both of you. the bed is so small that you're practically atop him, not unlike you were just 15 minutes ago.

"no never," you shift to your side, , letting him wrap an arm around you as you're now eye to eye with him. "you're spending the night right?"

"yeah of course."

"wow you're finally a gentleman, maybe next time i can even get the jacket." you flick your lamp off and shut your eyes.

"only if you let me take you out."

"mhm, anytime."

"goodnight."

"goodnight patty cakes."

[yeahhwons]

genre: platonic fluff :> pairing: scoups x gn! reader warnings: mentions of an ex and exes, drunk! cheol

bestie! cheol ✦彡

is the kind of best friend to share everything with you 

need a ride? he’s got you. 

don’t have cash when you’re out to eat? he’s got you. 

you say you wanted to watch a movie? he’s already bought two tickets online and pre-orders popcorn in the flavor you like so all you have to do is pick it up when you get to the theater. 

isn’t the most expressive when it comes to how much he appreciates you or likes your presence for that matter, but worries about you a lot

knows you more about you than you think…. always leaving you floored because you’re always surprised by how attentive he actually is

lowkey knows you better than your own family,,,,,

right! he’s the kind of bff to share everything with you - and i mean everything

to him, you’re his “i wouldn’t be able to live without you” kind of friend so there are random moments where he does let you know exactly that 

(mostly when he’s drunk because he’d be too prideful and stubborn to admit his feelings to you when he’s sober) 

but always gives in and owns up to what he says when you tease him in the morning; which ends with both of you having a really heart-warming conversation 

even though cheol is stubborn (has a hard time expressing his gratitude and love toward you), you still love him a lot and he loves you

and you both just know 

he’s very much you’re “i wouldn’t be able to live without you” friend too : ( 

drabble under the cut ! | wc. 1.2k | (y/n) - your name

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“cheol, you’re drunk.”

“am not.” 

“then why’d you text me to come to soonyoung’s party to pick you up, if you weren’t?”, you say with a smile. 

to your surprise, cheol’s mouth breaks into a smirk and he says “because i knew you’d come get me.” 

“were they here? was your ex here?”, you furrow your eyebrows in concern and push cheol’s bangs out of the way. the smile on his face still lingers. “or any of them for that matter?…. hmm, are you okay, cheol? should i take you home?”, you say and rush to put on your seatbelt as you take your eyes off of cheol in the passenger seat for just a moment.  

“they were, but you know what - it was better than i expected.” 

“okay, how much did mingyu give you to drink to make you feel as if it was better-“

“(y/n), i’m not drunk-“ 

“yes, you are.” he puts his hands up in surrender, and takes one of your flailing hands in his, “fine i’m tipsy if that’s what you want me to admit!” 

you sigh in the driver’s seat, setting up the bluetooth so that at least you’d have a banger playlist on amidst his drunken babbling. cheol’s always been like this, you tell yourself, but today something seems different… because he hasn’t let go of my hand. 

“don’t take me home just yet.” he says quietly as he starts fiddling with your fingers. you pull your hand away from his, and he lets out some sort of whine in response. “i don’t want to be alone!” 

you laugh, quite literally, to his face and tell him “what happened to, it was better than i expected?”

“i mean… it hurt a bit, seeing them there but i didn’t feel the pull to be close to them anymore. i think i’m getting better (y/n).” he looks at you with such a sincere look in his eyes, you can’t help but smile fondly at your friend. 

“like you said, i think i’m making more room for someone else to love now. i thought it was impossible before.”

“but with time it isn’t, right?” 

“what would i do without you, (y/n).” he says quietly before resting his head on the closed window as you drive out of soonyoung’s driveway, and leaving the party behind.

 “what was that cheol? you hungry? want to go get mcdonald’s?” 

“i said—“, normally he’d brush off your requests to repeat himself but tonight is different. he doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol, or the fact that you so willingly came to get him from soonyoung’s party, or the fact that the playlist you chose to play in the car right now was the one he was a collaborator on, but his heart blooms into such warmth when he finally says: “i said what would i do without you, my (y/n).” 

it’s tempting to step on the brakes to hug your usually nonchalant and prideful best friend, but a smile creeps its way onto your face instead. 

he giggles a bit before falling asleep in the passenger seat, a smile gracing his face. you can’t help but think about how cute he is right now, and how grateful you are to have him as well. 

“what would i do without you, my cheol.” 

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the next morning, cheol wakes up in a mountain of blankets atop your living room couch. 

you’re in your tiny kitchen, brewing some hot water in a kettle and toasting some bread for you guys to eat. 

his head feels like its splitting in half - partly,(a) because of how you so brutally opened the blinds he remembers you closing as he fell asleep last night and now he is face-to-face with the harshest sunlight he’s ever experienced in his lifetime but also because (b) of how much he drank last night. mingyu is going to get an earful from me later, he thinks to himself before glancing in the direction of your kitchen, which you have since left. 

“good morning, my cheol.” you tease, appearing in front of him with a tray consisting of a plate of warm and toasted bread, butter, strawberry jam, and two cups of orange juice which you put on the coffee table at the foot of your couch’s tiny pull-out couch.

he face-palms in response, “i did it again, did i?” 

you laugh in his face, much like you did the night before, “mhm! yes, you did and i found your confession this time very cute.”

he lets out some sort of sound of frustration before letting his curiosity get the best of him, “what did i say this time?”

“i’ll tell you if you ask nicely, and attach ‘my (y/n)’ to the end of it.” you say sweetly, clearly pushing his buttons while smiling at him with your brand of mischief that he knows all too well. 

“oh god, did i really say that?”

“if i remember correctly—“, you tease because you and him both know you remember what he said last night very clearly, “you said something around the lines of ‘what would i do without you, my (y/n)’ and something about me being right about getting over your ex.”

something blooms in seungcheol’s chest, a kind of warmth he knows is only associated when he spends time with you, or is near you for that matter. while you busy yourself with doctoring up two pieces of toast for each of you with butter and jam, he looks at you with such care and fascination. seungcheol seemed to be friends with everyone, but didn’t let anyone get too close - say less for a few of his guy friends whom he grew up with. that was the case, until he met you. at that moment he realized how truly lucky he was to have you, and how much your friendship exceeded many of his past failed relationships. 

he didn’t need to love you like a lover in order to feel loved. and it made him even softer to know that he still cared for you all the same. he couldn’t imagine the space of you in his heart as empty, in fact it pained him to think that. 

he couldn’t imagine a life without you by his side. as his best friend. as his (y/n). 

and sure, he was bound to fall in love and settle down sometime. and you were too, it was what you deserved. who else is more deserving of love in this life than they are? he realized how much he asked that to himself constantly. 

snapping your figngers in front of his face, you ask “earth to cheol? the toast is going to get hard if you continue to just stare at it.” 

he looks at you gratefully, pink dusting his cheeks. 

he couldn’t remember what he said exactly last night, but he did remember where he was coming from. and he was going to tell you now. 

“thank you for this, my (y/n).” he says casually, before taking a bite of the toast you were referring to. “and thank you for being here. with me. for being my (y/n).” 

it’s now your turn to smile, and your heart’s turn to bloom with something equal to the warmth of the sunshine on your skin at this very moment. 

“of course, my cheol. forever and ever.”

“forever and ever.” 

♡━━━━━♡━━━━━♡━━━━━♡━━━━━♡

💌 : might turn this into a series! hope this one gets a lot of love <3

📦 ... yeahwons (2024) | 🏗 [masterlist - soon!]

[freshlyrage]

Running Like Water

Chapter 35

pairing: Javier Peña x OFC (written as xReader)

fic warnings: NSFW Explicit Smut (18+ MDNI) language, strained family relationships, mentions of drug abuse, discussions of insecurities and body image issues, daddy and mommy issues

fic tags: Best friends younger sister, Life-long crush, Friends to lovers, Unrequited love, slow burn, Push and Pull, Small Town Dynamics, Secret Relationships, latina MC, Fluff and Angst, OFC!Jessica Alba face claim, sorry Lorraine I'm bringing you into this, Time jumps, 2 year age gap, pre-canon

word count: 4.7k

A/N: Happy New Year! This is a double update. This is the first of the two. Chapter 37 will be our last chapter. I can't believe it and I'm lowkey in mourning. I hope you enjoy.

Things are weird. 

Your mother fixes her jaw and exhales when you come home in Javier’s oversized shirt. Thankfully she ignores it. You quickly realize you guys became that couple. That couple that could never get their shit together and made everyone else suffer with anticipation. 

Well, you weren’t a couple just yet. But still. 

You shrug and continue to have a surprisingly decent time with your mother. You laugh even. Granted, she had a glass of wine to loosen. Still, you laughed and leaned into each other and you didn’t feel hurt, or alone. You wonder if maybe this was the way to feel good. To intake your family in moderation. She even compliments your cooking. 

Dinner is lovely, your mothers husband is quite the storyteller. An unserious man, your mother covers Sol’s ears a few times and tosses a napkin at him. Vein in the middle of her head pressing tightly from her laughter. 

When Sol is put to bed by her father, you and your mother clean the kitchen. It reminds you of your junior year. It was just you and her in the house. It was a year where you felt like it was good between you two. You had a boyfriend, you had friends. You were distracted. She had just started seeing James. The two of you were effectively out of each other's paths until dinner. You’d eat, then you’d do the dishes together, shoulder to shoulder. With the water running and pruney fingers you were able to forget the pain associated with being her daughter. 

You’re twenty four now, and it's hard to be distracted.

You suppose it’s hard for her too. 

“I’m sorry for the way I handled everything with your father. A few years ago.”

Your brows furrow, lips chapping. Still scrubbing a dish, she’s holding the next one. You look at her briefly, proceeding with caution, “oo-kay.” 

“I never knew how to be your mother. I was cold to you– I am.” She clears her throat and her tipsy eyes disappear. A sober thought. “I feel like I pushed you away. You never want to be here.”

You nearly scramble to tell her it's okay, that she had done nothing wrong. Blame yourself a little. Hug her, wipe her wet eyes and hug her again. That's the part of you that's still weak, that still wants a mom. But really, she had done wrong. And you’re a big girl now. So you nod and continue the dishes.

“I don’t like being here. It’s too painful of a reminder.” You wring the sponge when your hands get soapy, moving another plate to the dish rack. A sniffle comes from your right. 

“I can't fix it now. I don’t even need you to forgive me. But I’ve noticed that you call me less, that you reduced visits to once a year. I haven't made it easy. Your father was–um-” Her voice breaks and you finally look at her. She’s got more wrinkles around her eyes, age spots growing. Her brown hair peppered with gray curls. Time moves fast, she’s getting older. She looks young when she cries. “I know that you and Javier…I don’t know if you were together but– I know that you love him, then he came here after you met your father  and It clicked, how much he cared-”

You cross your arms. “Then you helped him marry another woman.” 

“I was angry– it’s not an excuse but at the time the way he spoke to me made me irrational. He hit me with a reality I was too selfish to accept. I was spiteful. To me… your father was my Javier. I don’t need you to feel bad but I need you to know.” She shakes her hands off in the sink, grabbing a hand towel and turning just like you. Shoulder to shoulder still, just with your backs to the sink. Your silence is read as an invitation to keep talking. And it is, your mother wipes her nose.

“James has been making me go to a therapist. He made me go because we took Sol to the park and we were watching her… and he asked me, I bet you miss when Andrea was this small, I bet you miss taking her to the park.”

“You never took me to the park.” You whisper, voice cracking despite your protests. 

“I never took you to the park.” She responds. “He made me go after that. When you were born I was in so much duress from your father that I couldn't nurse. My body was shutting down and I couldn’t even get up to look at you in that little incubator they had you in. They said I had Postpartum depression. I–I was– I am a woman of god, I grew up in the church and on the island– that medical talk of depression– I rejected the help.” She takes a deep breath in. “Then I stayed spiteful, and angry and distant. None of it was your fault but I felt so– I saw you and then I saw your father and I would feel the pain I felt when I caught him doing drugs. Andrea, estaba tan perdida. El tiempo pasa rápido y sólo quiero ser parte de tu vida. Te pido disculpas hija.” She sobs and the sound is awful.

Not even you are immune to the cries of your mother.

You place your hand on hers and let her cry.

Yeah, it’s fucking weird. 

It’s weirder when you stay up the entire night avoiding thinking about the conversation with your mother. 

Editing your welcome back lesson plan, a draft in your hotel room and the sheets feel itchier than ever. And everything seems to bother you and you nearly shut your notebook, rev up your rental and speed over to Javier’s house. 

The two of you did not sleep before your dinner with your mother. Instead the two of you just chatted in whispers. Nails circling his chest, fingerprints tight on your arm. Then, in bed with him, you have a thought that’s weird. 

That scares you. That you banish in the moment and shift closer into his ribs. So close he grunts with a laugh. 

But alone on the floral sheets of a room so foreign it comes back. 

What if the chase is over and he realizes that you could be anyone? What if you aren’t all that he made you up to be. 

What if it’s all said and done and he’s no longer excited. He loves you, but it isn’t the same. If he changes his mind when he realizes a future with you entails no mess, an easy love. What if the broken parts of you are only fun when you have to keep his attempt to heal you a secret? 

You don’t want the chase anymore but what if he’s fallen in love with the chase?

Then you feel like shit. Wanting to pinch yourself at the silly thought. Hasn’t he shown you how badly he wants this?

Then you wonder why it hasn’t worked the first 100 times. Then you wonder if this whole thing, you, putting him on trial is just another way for you to keep the chase. You realize you’re more afraid than you put on. You’re afraid that when he has you, you won’t be worth staying with. You won’t be worth coming back to. 

You wished you knew your therapist's number by heart. You needed her last night. 

You cried the entire night. It was one of those nights where you stared at yourself until you felt sad and spiraled and thought of all of the pain you feel. 

You thought of Lucas of course, of your father. You no longer felt the need for him but the stain of his absence bleeds into every decision made, into every negative thought. 

He was your Lorraine. 

Never present but somehow in control of your life. God you fucking hated that. 

You don’t think of these things back in New York. Sure, you’re reminded when you’re sitting across your therapist but it’s detached. You aren’t anchored the way you are here. When you’re home it all feels so real, it’s in the fucking air. Yet you still call it home. You call Laredo home before New York. You have another scary thought. 

You wonder if Javier in New York will keep you anchored in the trauma that comes from being home. 

You want to scream at the thought, the guilt you feel is probably fear. You’re afraid, so your brain is making excuses and thoughts that never existed before. Yet, it still makes you heave. You hold yourself to sleep.

You cry so much that when you wake up the next morning you feel hungover. Headpoudning, lids sore to the touch. The sort of breakdown that makes you embarrassed when you wake up. Your feet are cold against the floor when you graze the room aimlessly, forcing yourself to shower. 

You close your eyes and picture his hands running over your shoulders, down to the front of your chest. His big rough hands contrast the softness of your breasts, the way you’d pebble against his palm. Left hand parts you. You touch yourself and finish quickly with his name on your lips. 

It’s the 30th and you’ll be on the road to  Houston tonight. You hope to God these foolish thoughts are banished by then. You just want a break from all these thoughts. You want it to feel like Louisiana. 

The shower does not wash the dread. 

You reach for the phone. 

Javier’s room never gets this sort of light. It’s delightful but also tells him just how fucking dusty this place is. It also exposes him, quite rudely, to how childish the place is. He cringes a bit when he pictures his body over yours on that full sized bed. Rutting into you, your legs over his shoulder. Then he thinks of how it used to feel to be inside of you and he doesn’t give a fuck about how his room looks. 

Against the wall is his bed, pictures scattered on the arch of the ceiling. The part of his room he likes best, his low lofted vaulted ceiling where he placed posters throughout his adolescence. He thinks of the nights you spent in his bed, your feet pressed against the ceiling to “stretch”. There’s a rip on the corner of his Queen poster from your toes. You squealed and apologized but Javier couldn’t stop laughing at your concern for a little rip. He kissed you to sleep that night, kissed you until you dropped your legs from the ceiling. 

You had so many days like that, just together. So many nights sneaking around, library dates, picking you up from work. Those two months were bliss. He wants more, he wants his whole life to be those moments of nothing. Those tiny poster ripping and giggling moments with you. 

He doesn’t have to pack much, it’s just two nights. It’s not like he unpacked completely anyway. He moves three outfits into a duffel bag, cigarette dangling from his lips. Grunts when he stands and makes his bed. 

Floorboards creak and there’s two knocks at the doorframe of his room. Javier turns and beckons Chucho in with a head nod. His father has been distant lately, not in a way that bothers him but in a way that he’s proud of.

 Javier loves his dad, but man was he always in his damn business. Always home, always making a face when Javier would leave the room after sneaking you out. Laughing and going back to his crossword. He’s been seeing some lady which Javier’s actually quite pleased with. Her name is Michelle apparently, she’s a widow who has been struggling with up keeping her land since she lost her husband back in ‘86. They met 3 years ago, he’d come by and help, for free. This year he asked her to dinner, which he called Javier about whether or not you wear a tie to that sort of thing. 

Now he spends most nights in her home. 

Javier sits down onto his bed because his father has that face on him. That face he gives him when he wants to talk. He grunts the same way Javier does when he pulls out Javier’s desk chair and sits. He looks at Javier’s duffel bag then at the cigarette between his son's fingers. 

Chucho taps the worn wood. “You just got here.” 

Javier fights the urge to sigh, but he sympathizes with him. It does feel strange to leave home when he’s been gone for so long. “It’s barely two days.  I’ll be back around six in the afternoon on the first.” 

He gives a quick nod, “I’m getting old.” Javier’s brows furrow.

“Don’t look it.”

Chucho chuckles, shaking his head. “Are you going alone? To Houston.”

He thinks he knows where this is going. One of those warning talks, you can’t do this to her again Javi, I can’t allow it. Javier doesn’t care for those talks anymore, he’s working too hard. “Andrea is coming with me. I’m picking her up from her moms place at seven.”

His father presses his lips together and leans further into the chair with a slow nod. The sun passes behind some trees and makes the room dark for a second. Javier’s brow quivers, confused by his fathers body language. 

“What?” Javi snaps. 

His father sighs, “Nothing, I’m just getting old.”

“You’re only sixty-two– why do you keep saying that?” 

“I’m saying that because I want to at least have working knees when you have grandchildren.” Javi leans forward still in confusion so his father lets out another sigh, “Jesús Cristo, I’ve been watching you and that girl run in circles for almost eleven years. Even though my opinion doesn’t matter, obviously, she’s the only person I’ve ever wanted you to be with. I thought it wasn’t the best idea a few years ago, you know, seeing how hurt she was but she was only that way when you were apart. This is looking like your last chance son, she’s leaving this time.” 

Javier brushes his jaw, sometimes he forgets that everyone else has witnessed their little love despite their best efforts to keep it hidden. The silence lingers, thick and heavy, Javier thinks of what his life would look like without you and it’s dark, his stomach pits in a way that terrifies him. 

“I-“ Javi begins but he’s unsure of what he wants to say. But he knows that there’s no wrong answer under his dads watch. So he speaks from somewhere else, “She’s it for me. I’ll do anything in my power to make it work. She’s accepted me at my worst, she has taken care of me I-I can’t bear to be without her. Ella es mi vida.” It’s from that organ that keeps him alive, from that spot that aches when she—when you’re not around, that spot beats for you. He feels no fear and the face of his father softens greatly. 

It seems as though he gets younger with this look, “Well then, I have something for you.”

Now, if someone would have told you, say, three days ago that you’d be in your childhood bedroom with your brother and your mother talking about Javier— Hah! You’d cackle straight in their face.

Well, desperate times. You needed to clear your mind and also you wanted to raid your old closet of clothes for some last minute packing before Javier comes to get you. 

You called your mother back at the hotel. You asked if you could come over, and she was, well, still Melissa Diaz.

 Complaining, frantic about her dinner plans she made with some ladies at the church but ultimately said —“Whatever, bring wine.” 

You laughed to yourself. 

You’ve always sympathized with your mother. Despite her cold demeanor and strange moral code, you felt for her. 

Being apart from her felt good, fuck it, it was good. Your brain was clear of all the shit she put you through, you nearly forgot all those side comments she made to you growing up by being away from her for less than a year. She will never be a true mother to you. The only parent you’ve ever had was Chucho Peña, you’ve created peace with that. He’s been one hell of a parent. 

The conversation with your mother last night  shocked your system for a few hours, left you confused and then at peace. You imagined leaving, coming home maybe in March and making dinner with her a few nights. Then being able to pick up and go again. You pictured this possible relationship, one where she isn’t forgiven, but one you could grow with. Not to be an asshole, but with a personality like your mothers you wonder how anyone puts up with her for more than 7 hours at a time.

You won’t let her hurt you. 

That’s what you concluded, she can’t hurt you anymore. She’s trying to help herself and if you feel unsafe, if you feel fourteen again, you could always leave. That makes you feel secure. 

Then it terrified you, the thought of stability when all you’ve known is turbulence. 

So yes, you spiraled last night and cried and wondered if Javier would get bored, if he would leave and fuck, fuck, fuck you woke up this morning with such a headache. 

Your therapist suggested once to just–say it out loud, when you feel like your thoughts are crazy, tell it to someone so they could snap you out of it. 

The last person you ever thought you’d practice this with would be your mother yet somehow, despite being, you know, your mother, would have a fresh pair of ears. Because she truly has no idea what’s gone on in your life. 

And you invited Frankie too, because he was there and you needed someone to decipher how much of your recollection was delusion and how much reality. 

So, you’re all sharing a bottle of red wine on the carpeted floor of your bedroom. 

Just minutes earlier, Frankie pulled you aside while you uncorked the wine. 

Since when do you willingly make plans with me mom? 

You shrug and say, Don’t know. 

There’s that. 

“Okay, okay. Forgive me but I am confused. Javier was still— he was still with that girl? With Lorraine?”

You and Frankie groan in tandem. Your mother was a shitty listener sober, tipsy is a whole other story. You started off telling your mother and brother that you and Javier are trying this out again. Taking it slow, Frankie works his jaw but two minutes into your tangent he softens. 

I tried to give other people a chance, I just knew it would be one of those things. Where I'd find a good guy, someone who’s probably perfect and it would be easy. I know I would live my whole life grieving and feeling fucking—sorry mami—empty and alone and unhappy knowing Javier is out there somewhere either alone or with someone else. It would make me sick, physically I wouldn’t be able to recover. 

Frankie had cast his eyes to his lap, basking in the guilt he felt from keeping the two of you apart with his judgment and smothering need to be in control of those around him. Especially his sister and his best friend. It felt strange to say this to your mother and brother of all people, not because of the concept of a mother and brother. Not because it’s awkward to talk romance to family members. But because of the way they played the role of mother and brother, when you needed them most, they weren’t the safe spaces you’d hoped they’d be. 

Your mother on the other hand narrowed her eyes at you and for a moment you anticipated her to just ruin the whole thing. 

“Perdóname, pero ¿alguna vez... te metiste con Javier?” She says in a whisper that’s half slurred and half very very serious. Melissa’s shoulders are slumped like she’s trying to hide her question from your brother. 

Your brows raise to the top of your forehead, mouth agape your head snaps to look at your brother and his face is doing the same. 

And you burst out laughing. A laugh that probably could wake your sister and step-dad. But you and Frankie don’t care, you’re having that sort of laugh that has you physically rolling and heaving. Nearly knocking your wine glass over and then laughing at that. 

“Que!” Your mother exclaims, “What? Why do you laugh at me?!” She slaps Frankie's head. 

You wipe tears from your eyes.

“Mami.” You furrowed brows, “Really?”

“Yes… really.” She mocks you, “I was left out of the loop, you were always lying to me so I stopped caring!” 

“Jesus Christ.” Frankie exhales with another chuckle. Melissa pinches his arm. “Ow! Sorry!” 

“So I’m telling the whole thing then?” Your mother nods, while simultaneously rubbing the spot she just pinched on your brother's arm.

 Frankie nods too, “It’s not like I know all that went on either.” 

“Alright then.” You cleared your throat, taking a sip of merlot. You look at Frankie and point, “You aren’t allowed to get mad that a lot of this involved hiding things from you, okay?”

He put his hands in the air, “Water under the bridge nena.” 

“Obviously I had a crush on Javier when we were all close. It was childlike and fun to have for the most part but it felt very real for me. It feels real still,you know then he started dating Lorraine. I liked her, she was nice to me–”

“To your face. She would really pick fun at your crush behind your back.” Frankie cuts. You shrug, sipping again. Your mother shakes her head, muttering something under her breath.

“Yeah… I know that. Anyway, I never crossed any lines. I was… exploring… on my own but Javi was always there confusing me, flirting with me and just being around and there for me when I was alone. I was alone a lot and yes, we did kiss but that's all we did and it was when Lorraine cheated on him and they were broken up for a week.”

“She cheated?” 

You almost want to roll your eyes at the shock from your mother’s voice, she says it as if she knew her so well.

Frankie furrows his brows and turns to your mother, “I feel like I told you this.” 

She just shrugs, “I guess I forgot. Andrea, continue.”

You nod, “They got back together soon after, I had no idea he was leaving–none of us knew he was moving away. I just felt so tugged around those few months, so confused and uh–um I’m sorry.” You feel it again, you're there, in the kitchen and you’re only sixteen. Gripping onto the sink. You feel the brush of his thumb over your wrist and his eyes are searching your face. You wipe your tears that escaped. Your mother pats your ankle “On your graduation day Frankie, Javi told me that he would stay if I told him to. Genie is the only person I told about this. He put me in such a fucked up position, he knew how badly I wanted to be with him but I couldn’t do that to Lorraine. Now I wish I was selfish, it would have prevented so much pain if I just thought of myself for once. But I’m plagued by the need to be a good person. So we didn’t talk for six years and I dated Xavier– and mom, I know you liked him but he was horrible to me.” You run a hurried hand through your hair and peek a glance at your brother who stares at you with a set face of compassion. He hadn’t known about the night of his graduation and what really went down between the two of you and why you locked yourself away those first few days of summer. 

Your mother doesn’t argue with you, they have nothing to say now.  

Your tears don’t fall when your mind grazes that summer almost four years ago. Being together, really together. Kissing him, your illicit affair. A little love for the both of you. “We were together the entire time he was here in 1986, he came home and we knew, you know we had a plan for when he would go to Colombia.” Your mother still has that face of surprise that turned to revelation. Her mouth opens to speak but you get to it before her. “Yes mami, all those times you thought someone was in my room it was Javi. Especially the time when you came home and saw his car in the driveway.”

“Huh. And you called me crazy!”

“I had a feeling that whole time, I would call his house and he’d never be there.” Frankie laughs and you can’t believe this is the place you’re at. Your mother only making lighthearted comments and your brother laughing off this big secret that once wracked your heart in shame. 

“Yeah I lied a lot that summer. I wanted to protect what we had and after your wedding we were going to tell everyone and just be public.”

“Then Lorraine came home.” Frankie replies, and the room feels colder than it did a few seconds before. Your mother frowns, in your heart you hope she’s thinking of the ways she may have made that time harder for you. You hope she regrets it because no matter how clueless she makes herself out to be, she knew she was hurting you. You laugh because if not you’d be crying.

“Then she came home, so yeah. You all know how that went, and now he’s here for good. And I’m only here for a few more days.” And now you’re here, asking for advice without really asking for it. You just bring your knees to your chest hoping they can read your mind. Your glass is empty and you feel exposed in front of them, suddenly, embarrassed to let it all hang loose. 

There’s my story, although you’ve hurt me, please tell me how to end it. 

Your mother purses her lips and sits up straight, “So… Now you're with him?” 

You blink twice, “No, but me and him have… slept together- we are trying to figure it out.”

“Ew.” Frankie squeezes his eyes shut and your mother rolls her eyes.

“Grow up.” Your mother swats him again, “Why don’t you two just get it over with, you obviously love each other. I don’t think he’d mind moving with you.”

“It’s hard–it’s just there’s so much we have to work on… individually and he’s working on himself and I am too but there just feels like so much more– I just– we’re going to Houston tonight and I want to have a good time but all I can think of is how it–”

“Andrea.”

“-how fucked up this all has been. I know he’d leave with me now if I asked but what if we’re there living alone and he realizes he made a mistake –”

“Andrea.”

“He’s the only person I can ever-”

“Andrea!” Your brother shouts.

“What?” Your voice is shaking and you’ve lost track of the room it seems. 

Your mother has a pitying look and your brother’s eyes are blown out, he leans back into the wall and he closes his eyes for a moment in disbelief. “You are overcomplicating this. You’re doing that thing you do–”

“What-what thing?”

He sighs at your immediate defensiveness, he knows nothing, “That thing where you stop yourself from getting a good thing because you’re afraid–”

“I-I’m not afraid.” You lie.

“Andrea.” His tone is full of exhaustion, “Please, mom back me up.” He looks over at your mother and this feels ridiculous. What do they know? They barely know you they–they are only just learning.

“Si mija, from what you’ve told us and from the way he’s always been with you there's nothing to be worried about. This seems like the moment.”

Your lips feel chapped and your eyes blur over. Things are falling into place around you yet your mind is telling you things are still falling, you feel disconnected and heaviness in the middle of your chest.

 “I don’t know–”

Three loud beeps silence the room. You rush to your feet, nearly knocking over the wine bottle to your left and head to your bedroom window.

In the driveway, Chucho’s truck.

[wooahoe]

fresh off the boat — rocket line + uji + aerie oneshot

fob/fresh off the boat adj · sometimes-derogatory phrase or term used to describe immigrants who have arrived from a foreign nation and have yet to assimilate into the host nation's culture, language, and behavior, but still continue with their ethnic ideas and practices (paraphrased from wikipedia) <- very common in asian american circles — “you know eunyoung, right? she’s such a fob!” twinkie noun, slang · an ethnically korean (or east asian) person who is whitewashed; refers to being “yellow” on the outside but “white” on the inside; typically used in a joking manner but is generally a derogatory term; banana is also used in the same manner — “she tries to hide it, but we all know she’s such a twinkie! have you heard her accent? she doesn’t sound korean at all!” aerieverse mlist — 🎧 saranghey❕dory’s playlist

cw: author is lowkey a twinkie ㅠㅠ, swearing in general, konglish (both romanized and not), angst(?), discussion of race and culture, alcohol consumption, sexual innuendos and insinuations, very very self indulgent !! aerie is sometimes referred to as “shroomie” + variations of mushroom-related nicknames (i thought it was cute cuz aerie = fairie = mushroom circles? bro idk), 1.4k-ish words

a/n: IM WORKING ON THE SERIES I SWEAR❕here’s the aerieverse 미국 line in the meantime

this fic is very much based on my own personal experience (at least aerie’s part, not vernon’s cuz i’m not whasian) and i felt like josh and vernon would be the perfect people to rant to about this sort of thing (uji’s my bias there’s no justification for him). I AM NOT TRYING TO BE A 검머외 PLS UNDERSTAND 🙏 also based off of my rant from this post

— ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

aerie lee was having a relatively shitty day.

the party that chan had convinced her to go to had turned out to be far too loud for her liking, and after one too many ‘sorry, i’m here with my soulmate’s, she was left alone in a house full of asians, alcohol, and her thoughts. which, unfortunately for aerie, tended to spiral easily, especially when she was already uncomfortable and not allowed to drink.

after about five hours of pure torture, she managed to get a very intoxicated seungcheol, jun, mingyu, soonyoung, and chan back to a very disgruntled minghao and seungkwan with the help of an only slightly tipsy hansol, before driving back to her own shared apartment, where she, joshua, jihoon, and hansol lived.

once she stepped through the front door, she immediately kicked off her boots, tossed her purse onto the counter, grabbed two drinks from the fridge, and flopped onto the couch dramatically.

hansol laughed at her position, taking a seat next to her and raising an eyebrow quizzically.

“was the party really that bad?”

she sighed, and took a long drink from the bottle in her hand before sending a muffled groan into the couch cushion.

“what’s wrong?”

“have you ever felt like you’re not actually korean enough?”

at this, joshua and jihoon emerged from one of the bedrooms, both thoroughly disheveled, one looking slightly confused and the other worried. joshua shot a questioning glance at hansol, who shrugged, raising an eyebrow back at the elder’s appearance, getting up from his seat and making his way to the kitchen.

“have you been drinking?” joshua asked.

“what happened to hi, hello, how was the party?” hansol questioned.

“그런니까. and what the fuck were you and hoonie doing while we were gone?” she added, doing a once-over of both of them, a slightly incredulous look on her face.

jihoon crossed his arms and rolled his eyes, pink beginning to spread from his ears to his cheeks. “hi, hello, how was the party, we were studying. answer the question, rin, because what kind of question was that?”

she snorted, taking another sip of her drink. “studying my ass, it’s three in the fucking morning, why are either of you up?”

joshua shook his head endearingly, and scolded her lightly.

“it was nothing like that, hoon was helping me go over something and we got sidetracked. but seriously, aerie, what do you mean by that? and why are you sitting like that? are you sure you’re not drunk?”

hansol’s laugh and his ‘sidetracked’ is crazy! could be heard from the kitchen.

aerie laughed before replying, “no, josh. i’m sober, i swear.”

he looked over at her, furrowing his brows. she was laying upside down on the couch, with her legs hooked over the top and her head hanging down near the bottom.

sober, indeed.

hansol, coming back from the kitchen with a pair of beers, a coke zero, and a package of girl scout cookies, let out a snort. “we were literally at a frat party with the hyungs and channie, like, twenty minutes ago. sober, my ass.” joshua pressed a kiss to his temple in greeting before accepting a beer.

“yeah, sol, and i was the dd. so no, i’m not drunk. not even tipsy.”

“you literally have two sojus next to your head,” jihoon retorted, taking a seat next to her upside-down head.

she swiveled her head to the side opposite jihoon, and sure enough, there was a pair of peach sojus sitting at the base of the couch, right next to her ear. one of them was empty; she’d somehow managed to finish the whole bottle before the older two had sat down in the living room.

“oh.” she let out a huff, and then waved her hand around flippantly. “just answer the damn question.”

joshua, who had taken a seat on the floor opposite hansol, let out a quiet sigh, and took a large swig of the drink that the younger had handed him before meeting her gaze.

“what happened at the party, shroomie?” he asked, tone gentle.

she raised an eyebrow before maneuvering her body so that she was sitting upright, and slid off the couch to lean against jihoon.

“왜? what makes you think something happened?” she scoffed, bringing the drink to her lips.

jihoon set his cola down and flicked her forehead lightly.

“yah, why else would we think something happened? it’s not like this came out of nowhere.”

she frowned, pouting a little (most likely from the alcohol, or perhaps spending a bit too much time with seungcheol), but stayed quiet, sipping her drink.

hansol, who had stayed silent for most of the conversation, spoke up.

“yeah, when i was younger, i kinda did. not as much when i was living in new york, but after moving to hongdae…it was kinda hard, y’know?” he bit into a samoa before continuing. “i mean, my mom’s genes definitely came on stronger than my dad’s, and surprising people with your ability to speak korean wears off after the first few times. but i guess i never really felt…not korean? like, english isn’t hard for me, but korean has always been a little easier for me, and i’m more used to the culture in korea than i do here.

“but i don’t feel, y’know, not american either. i guess after a while i stopped caring about what people thought.”

joshua nodded, then tilted his head to the side, as if considering his words.

“i think i felt that after coming to korea, too, for the first showcase that we did. it’s not like i couldn’t speak korean, but it’s a little daunting. almost nobody called me jisoo at home, and so for everyone to start calling me that once we got to seoul…it felt a little awkward. like i was pretending to be someone that i wasn’t.”

jihoon hummed in agreement.

“it’s weird when you’re used to being called a certain name and then all of a sudden you’re being called something else.”

the three of them shot him a confused look.

“ji, your name is korean,” joshua said, tilting his head in confusion.

“yeah, but going from jee-hoon to 지훈 was kinda 이상해. having everyone pronounce my name properly was 이상해.”

aerie snorted.

“when we came back home, though, i went back to being joshua. and that probably would’ve been weirder if you and hansol hadn’t called me josh during the trip,” joshua finished.

aerie hummed, staring at her drink again, as if processing everything her boys had told her.

“are you okay?” jihoon asked, placing a hand on her knee.

during the conversation, joshua had moved to lay on his back in front of the two, with hansol shifting to lay his head against aerie’s thigh and his legs on top of joshua’s, the drinks and cookies long forgotten.

she merely hummed again, and ran her hand through hansol’s hair before responding.

“it’s just…i don’t know. nobody ever uses my korean name except for, like, jeonghan; everyone just calls me 애리. which isn’t, y’know, a bad thing, but…” she sighed, reaching over jihoon’s lap to grab her soju, “몰라요. and my korean is pretty…well, it’s not ass, necessarily, but my accent is so terribly american that junnie can barely understand it. i’m literally a twinkie at this point.”

hansol frowned. “who told you that?”

“nobody.” she took a sip of her soju before pursing her lips and opting for a cookie instead.

“shroomie.” she looked up and saw the three of them staring at her.

“what?”

“who the hell called you that?” jihoon asked, frowning.

“nobody, hoon.”

“then why—”

“it’s just frustrating.”

joshua nodded, reaching over to squeeze her hand.

“it’s like i’m…stuck. not entirely american, evidently, because i’m too asian, but not fobby enough to be fully korean. stuck in this weird limbo, y’know? i’m 외국인 wherever i end up.”

then the four of them fell silent, the only noise being joshua’s hum of agreement.

“is this because the showcase is coming up?” hansol asked.

“응, 맞아.”

“괜찮을 거에요. 안게 될 거야.”

“그렇게 바라요, 우지야, 그렇게 바라요.”

— ✧˚ ༘ ⋆｡˚

a/n: bro i love samoas so much…

[selfishdoll]

❛favorite groupie...❜ ━━ ft. vamp! sukuna

SUMMARY ೀ ׅ ۫ . ㅇ

the last thing you wanted to do was go to a vampire bar just because your best friend’s favorite fanged band was playing. but you did.. and met a certain pink haired drummer whose way too cocky for his own good. luckily, you just love matching energy.

CONTENT WARNING ೀ ׅ ۫ . ㅇ

vampires so mentions of blood, bloodsucking, period blood, etc. | self-indulgent asf (reader wears glasses) | semi-public sex | sukuna is a drummer & vampire | ooc sukuna | mean dom! sukuna | praise & degradation | use of the word “groupie” to mock at first but later used as a term of endearment(?) | “pet names” (pretty, doll, minx, sweetheart, etc) | strangers to lovers(? there may be a part two to this) | rough sex | manhandling | throat fucking | sukuna comes on reader’s glasses | pussy drunk sukuna & cock drunk reader | tipsy sex (buzzed really) | sukuna & reader match energy fr. try to see who folds first | denied orgasms | spanking | fingering | etc. if i forgot something tell me please.

NOTE ೀ ׅ ۫ . ㅇ

this story is heavily inspired by the old show “true blood” that i am currently obsessed with. that’s where i get the idea of a vampire bar & the term “fang-banger.” you will see several vamp fics because they’re literally my favorite supernatural creature. also, sukuna is gonna be ooc cause i’m sensitive & can’t make characters too mean 😞. also this got longer then i wanted it to so it’s like 5k+ words. as always please excuse any typos & grammar mistakes.

Arabian Night burned upon the decorated holder rested on your vanity, the subtle notes of hyacinth and carnation tainting the atmosphere— warming the area around you. Your dark eyes were glued to the mirror, staring back at yourself delicately gliding the tube of mascara along your lashes, careful to assure no product got into your eye.

“I can’t believe you’re really making me go to a vampire bar.” The words left your glossed and lined lips in a hiss, eyes rolling the moment you heard your friend attempt to defend herself on facetime. To be frank you didn’t hate vampires. There weren’t many differences between them and humans. They were both beings that simply fed on other things to survive.

A hamburger to a human was no different then blood to a vampire.

But, you still did your best to avoid them. Which was easy since they were limited on when they come out and most establishments didn’t allow them in. Your friend knew this, knew your justifiable fear of being some vampire’s next meal— yet urged and lowkey manipulated you to going to a vampire bar.

“They’re only here for a week! We’re the first place they’re touring— we have to go!”

Through many days of urging, guilt trips, and puppy eyes you caved; declaring it would be cool to see a vampire’s world or even interact with them. You were still scared but the fear was sure to melt, right?

You rose from the plush pink chair, stepping back into the view of the full body mirror pressed against your wall. Placing your glasses back on, you looked over your form, searching for any imperfections. The outfit was simple; a red cropped edhardy jacket, your lacey white bra poking out from underneath. You wore dark blue jeans with a red belt, white thong straps resting high on your hips. You pursed your lips a bit, gliding your fingers through the honey brown lace you wore, watching the curls bounce perfectly. With another glance over and a push of your glasses you were satisfied, sliding your sock covered feet into some white sneakers— grabbing your other necessary belongings shortly after.

You exited your home locking up behind yourself and heading towards your car. You would have driven with your friend but there was a chance she would end up under the arm of some hot vampire.

“Fang-banger..” Was the simple word that escaped your glossed lips, grinning just a tad as you turned the engine over. She would be pissed to hear you call her that.

After about fifty minutes of driving you arrived to the bar, the entrance surrounded by people. You bit the inside of your cheek, feeling the anxiety rose. Sure humans were welcome and you’ve heard relatively good things about this particular establishment.. but there were still vampires.

A being that could end you in a single bite.

The thought alone caused you to shiver, shutting your car off and squeezing the steering wheel. You gave yourself a few moments before pulling your hands away, releasing a deep breath and opening your car door. Exiting it, you closed and locked the vehicle; turning in time to see a bubbly woman rushing towards you.

You instinctively opened your arms, eyes rolling as she practically tossed herself into them. You grumbled as kisses were pressed to your cheek, your best friend thanking you over and over again for coming.

“Yeah, yeah— whatever.” You mused, ignoring her hands groping your ass. Your hands lowered to her shoulders, pushing back a bit. “The band is gonna start soon, right? Come on.”

“Oh, right!” She grinned, pulling away whilst locking her hand around your wrist. You were then tugged towards the bar entrance, your free hand gripping your sleeve nervously. Your eyes peered up at the woman beside the door, her red colored lips pulling into a tiny grin at the sight of you and your friend.

A very toothy grin.

“IDs?” She questioned in a velvety tone, eyes focused on you for a split moment— as if sensing your nervousness. You breathed, reaching into the handbag you carried and grabbing your wallet. There you grabbed your identification, passing it to her while your friend did the same.

The woman glanced over the cards for a moment before nodding, passing them back to you two. “You’re all set, have fun girls.” She winked, stepping to the side to let you both inside.

Your friend giggled excitedly as you entered the bar, your eyes dancing around the area. It was a normal bar really; regular tables, a medium sized stage, and a dance floor. People of many different ethnicities — and species — danced and conversed, enjoying drinks and each other. Seeing a vampire feeding in real life was completely abnormal to the point you couldn’t look away.

“Don’t stare so much, it’s rude.” Your best friend whispered, stealing your attention from the scene. You went to apologize, her only smiling and shaking her head. “Here, let’s get some drinks.” She led you over to the bar, the two of you sitting down as she gained the bartender’s attention. She ordered two simple shots, the man nodding and getting right to them.

“I just.. never expected something like this.” You murmured, eyes dancing about. You did your best on not focusing too hard on a vampire sinking their teeth into someone’s neck or a couple basically humping on the dance floor; instead finding interest in the gothic decor and paintings that depicted the bloodsuckers. You turned back to your friend after the once over, giving a nervous smile. “I expected something bad, I guess.”

Your friend shrugged, flashing a gentle smile— thanking the bartender once your drinks were placed down. “A lot of people do. They hear vamp bar and think the worst.” She spoke softly, grasping her shot glass, watching you grab your own. “Even though I forced you.. I’m really happy you came.”

You rolled your eyes playfully, clinking your glass against hers. “Whatever slut.” You downed your drink, listening to the small snort that escaped your friend before she downed her own.

During this the lights on the stage flicked on, members of the bar shouting in excitement. Your friend did the same, turning in her seat at the bar with the widest grin. “They’re here!”

You could only smile at her excitement for her favorite vampire band known as Malevolence. You forced yourself to listen to their most recent music to appease your friend and while you didn’t hate the songs, it just wasn’t something you could get into.

Sigh.. the things you did for friendship.

You rested against your palm, watching as four individuals trudging on stage. Your eyes traced their forms, not overly impressed until you moved onto the last member. The drummer. He was.. better looking then the other three. Tall with pink hair and a black undercut. He wasn’t slim but wasn’t large either, right in the middle. Along with his physique were tattoos along his arms, the rest of his body covered in a black muscle shirt, baggy pants for bottoms.

“Who’s the drummer?” You questioned, eyes glancing at the bartender and requesting another shot. Your friend blinked as she turned, flashing a smile.

“His name’s Sukuna!” Her smile morphed a bit, a little coy now. “He’s not well liked by the media. He’s a little mean.”

You believed her, given how he scowled at a few fans that shouted his name. Even snapping at his bandmates for something briefly. Any interest you had melted away in that instant.

You straightened as they finished setting up the stage, the guitarist stringing his instrument a few times. You smiled at the bartender as he passed your shot, thanking him and taking a swig.

Soon enough, Malevolence started its first song of the night— the bar singing along to the rough voice of the band. You had to admit, it was nice to hear live and see humans bond over their shared love for the music.

You didn’t totally regret coming here.

The band played for about an hour and a half, fans close to the stage attempting to touch and or be touched by the fanged members. It was all entertaining to see, you and your friend taking several videos for your social media.

They closed out their show around ten o’clock, thanking the audience. You cheered along with the others, grinning and turning to your friend. “That was a lot of fun. They sound so good.”

“I know right!” She giggled, completely geeking out about the band. You listened to her ramble intently, the buzz of the alcohol lighting your senses. During her words, however, she suddenly placed a hand onto her stomach. “I’m sorry, I’ll be right back!”

“Take your time.” You waved the girl off as she rushed over to the bathroom, body turning to face the bar. You unlocked your phone, scrolling through your social media for a moment, simply waiting.

That was until you heard the chair two seats down be moved, followed by an annoyed voice.

“Piss off already. I’m not interested.”

It was no surprise your nosy self turned to spot the one and only Sukuna sitting at the bar, waving off a few girls that surrounded and attempted to touch him. The dejected expressions that clung to their featured nearly saddened you, if amusement didn’t interrupt the emotion.

You took a long stare at the man, watching as he instructed the bartender to pour him a glass of some liquid in a tall dark bottle; not even thanking him once he was served. You hadn’t realized your eyes were still on him until the man turned in his chair, facing you.

“You need something? I already said I’m not interested.”

You blinked a bit, snapping out of your trance whilst placing your arm against the bar. You sucked your teeth, turning. “Do I look like a fang banger to you?” You questioned, tone a little rude. From the corner of your eye you spotted the man taking a sip from the glass, tongue gliding across his bottom lip.

“No.” Sukuna started softly, fingers tapping against the short glass. “More like some needy groupie.” His tone was mocking, watching in amusement as you turned to face him with a subtle snarl.

It took a moment for you to reply, raising your shot glass and downing the rest of the alcohol. The burning sensation covered your body, melting your usual filter away. “Even if I was a groupie, I would try to fuck the singer— even the guitarist.” You murmured, knowing his inhuman ears would pick up each word. “Not some vamp that beats on the drums.”

His eyebrows rose, releasing a breathy chuckle as he took another gulp from his glass. You watched carefully, breathing the moment you noticed the hint of red staining his fangs. How his tongue glided to collect the residue, clearly enjoying the liquid you now realized was blood. Sukuna’s eyes landed on you once again, the glass clinking against the bar the moment he placed it down.

“You got a lot of mouth.. defending yourself pretty hard too.”

“And you’re implying?”

Sukuna gave a crooked grin, tapping the counter to which the bartender stepped over to fill his glass back up. “You’re just trynna convince yourself you don’t want me. Scared of being a fang banger?” The vampire’s tone was mocking again, enjoying the way you glared and snarled.

“Please.” You hissed softly, shifting in your seat, ignoring the warmth flooding through your body. “Ain’t shit to be scared of. Vampires are no different from a human man.”

To your surprise the man began to laugh, hunched over the bar with his forehead nearly pressing against the brown wood. You felt your cheeks flush with warmth the moment eyes turned to your spot at the bar, sinking into yourself.

“Sweetheart—“ He begun, laughter ceasing into nothing more than a snort. “I assure you I’m different than any other human man that you’ve been with.”

“Why, because you’re cold with no beating heart?”

“No, cause I’ll fuck the attitude out of you permanently.” Sukuna responded far too quickly, watching you gape like a fish for a moment, finally deciding to keep your mouth shut and turning to face the bar. He smirked at this, leaning on his elbow and tilting his head. “Cat got your tongue?”

You closed your eyes, breathing softly. You weren’t a fang-banger, you tried to convince yourself; attempting to ignore how much you were closing your legs together— avoiding his eyes that just highlighted he knew what you were abstaining from.

But as a moment of silence passed you felt that restraint dwindle. Whether the alcohol, Sukuna, or just you being fucking reckless— any logical part of your brain was rendered useless.

So, while pushing your glasses up you turned to face his awaiting gaze. “Prove it.” You dared softly, tilting your head at him.

Sukuna’s mouth quirked, tongue running along his bottom lip as he turned to the bartender. “Put it on my tab. Hers too.” He spoke, rising from his barstool. His hands found his pockets, motioning for you to follow with a tilt of his head. Rather quickly — embarrassingly so — you grabbed your things, following close behind him.

“My name is (Y/N), not her.”

“Think I like sweetheart better.” Sukuna spoke, leading you towards a door stationed beside the stage. You shouldered your bag as the two of you entered backstage, coming to a hallway. Three doors rested on the walls, you following the vampire who lead you to the one at the end of the hall.

He turned the knob, pushing open the door to reveal a simple room. A black vanity, a red sofa, with a black coffee table in the middle. Sukuna closed the door behind you, watching you for a moment as you bent to place your phone and purse down.

You turned, breathing softly the moment he stepped close to you. Your eyes traveled from his chest up to his face, licking your lips nervously. The man tilted his head with a little smirk.

“You were so damn cocky at the bar.. thinking of backing out?”

The nerves seemed to melt in that moment, stepping a bit closer, rising up to allow your lips to brush. “Sukuna.. are you gonna fuck the attitude out of me, or are you gonna keep talking?” Your eyes flicked between his lips and his dark eyes, gasping the moment you felt a cool hand rising to the back of your neck.

Wordlessly he leaned down, planting his lips against your own. His kiss was rough, stealing your breath away all while his tongue bullied it’s way past your pretty glossed lips. The wet, long muscle curled and slid against your own, licking into your mouth and claiming it as his own. The messy sounds of your lips surrounded the room, your soft moans following.

Sukuna’s hand moved to rest on your throat, thumb pressing against it just to feel you gulp. You pulled away for air, hissing the moment his fangs dragged across your bottom lip, nicking the sensitive skin. He chased your lips for another kiss, licking away the little droplet of blood whilst moving you backwards.

Your hands rose to grip his body, feeling your back press against a wall. You gasped in his mouth as you felt his hand slide down your body, catching the zipper of your cropped jacket and pulling it down your body. The cool air brushed your cleavage, moaning softly the moment his fingers found your hardened nipple under the thin fabric of your bra.

You pulled back, head resting against the wall; whining the moment he pinched your covered bud. “Sukuna, quit fucking teasing.” You hissed, chest rising into his hand for more. The vampire grinned down at you, removing his hand from your breast to instead trail down your body, flicking the belt you wore; buttons of your jeans following.

Now with enough space his hand was entering your pants, two fingers pressing against your wet, covered slit. “Already a fucking mess and I barely touched you.” The drummer commented, face pressing against your collarbone, dragging his fangs across your warm skin. You whined as his fingers found your clit through the fabric of your panties, legs widening and hips rising for more friction. Sukuna chuckled at this, fingertips pressing against the swollen bud, rubbing harsh circles upon it. “Opening your legs for a vampire like this— oh, what a minx you are.”

“Piss off.” You mustered, attempting to keep your resolve in tact. You cried out however, the moment he pinched your clit, the light pleasure and pain melding together.

“Still mouthing off huh?” Sukuna spoke, pulling away from your neck, hand rising to grab your cheeks. His thumb pressed against your lips for a moment before pushing into your mouth, pressing against your tongue all while his fingers entered your panties. The man didn’t tease this time, covering the digits in your slick before sliding them into your damp entrance. He wasted no time in curling the digits inside you, pressing against your gummy walls and growing closer to allow his palm to grind against your clit. A toothy grin was sent your way the moment he felt and heard your muffled moans, fingers scissoring inside your messy pussy, the wet squelches entering the room.

The muffled gasp of his name escaped you the moment he added a third finger, thrusting the digits quickly; stirring you up inside. Your hand fell to his wrist, pretty acrylics digging into his limb, clawing up tattooed skin. Your legs shook as the moments of pleasure continued, eyes pinched close as you felt your orgasm approaching.

Your toes curled, stomach tightening as you grew closer and closer; pussy spasming around his fingers so intensely, he actually added effort to his thrusts.

“Su—sukuna, fuck—!” You whined against his thumb, drool trickling down the corner of your mouth, gagging the moment he pushed the digit farther into your throat. You were so close, squeezing him so harshly that it hurt.

And yet, you weren’t pushed over the edge. Because just when you felt like you would break, the man stopped; withdrawing his fingers before you could even think of finishing yourself off.

Your eyes flew open, glaring at the shit-eating grin plastered across his face. The moment he pulled his thumb from your mouth you were hissing;

“What’s your problem? I was so cl—“

“Did you think you could mouth off like that and I’d would reward you with an orgasm?” Sukuna questioned, head tilted, eyes sweeping your form. The man’s hand rose, fingers pressing into your cheeks and pushing; watching your messy lips pucker. “Fucking needy, looking at you whining just for my fingers.” Sukuna released your cheeks to instead grasp your waist, moving you over to sit on the couch.

The moment your ass met the cushion you felt the heat rise around you, watching in excitement at his hands tugging on the waistband of his pants. Thumbs hooking on the elastic, the vampire pushed them down, black boxers following. His dick escaped the confinements easily, resting tall and thick, beads of precum resting deliciously on the tip.

You bit your lip a little, breathing the moment you felt his strong hand grab the back of your head. “Gonna use that pretty mouth of yours for something useful, yeah?” Sukuna grinned, watching how easily your lips parted, tongue sticking out. His other hand grabbed his shaft, inching closer just to side his tip across your wet tongue. The moment you tried to wrap your lips around his dick, he was pulling you back by the hair— ignoring the whine that you released.

“Impatient brat.” He murmured, instructing you to lay your tongue out. You obeyed, groaning the moment he tapped his dick against the muscle, shallowing fucking your open mouth with just the tip. After a few moments of the teasing, Sukuna was flicking his hips forward; enjoying the way tears sprung to your eyes, hands rising to press against his hips. With no care for your well-being, the vampire began to thrust in your wet cavern, your soft hair spilling through the gaps of his fingers as he gripped it.

Your tongue dragged across his shaft with each thrust into your mouth, eyes closed as you breathed heavily through your nose. The sound of your saliva, gagging, and wet thrusts carried in the room; your hand falling between your legs to rub your clit, moaning around his cock. Your jaw began to ache from the relentless thrusts, the combined mess surely tainting the bottom half of your face— concerns that you could care less about.

Sukuna watched you carefully, gripping your hair, enjoying the way your cheeks would puff with each thrust. The moment he noticed your hand however, he was shoving his cock deeper, leaning to snatch your wrist. You went to whine, the noise coming out as nothing more then a wet, jumbled mess. He grinned above you, continuing to fuck your throat; “Gonna cry about it? Go ahead.” Sukuna snickered, gritting his teeth the moment he felt his orgasm getting close.

His head tilted back, breathing as pink strands rested against his forehead. Sukuna’s hips never stopped, heavy balls slapping against your chin as his grip on your hair began to ache. “Fuck.. such a good fucking groupie, letting me use your mouth like this.” Sukuna teased, feeling the vibration of your moans around his length. He looked back down, pacing increasing, strings of groans and swears escaping him.

The vampire pumped inside your wet mouth a few more times before he was pulling out, making a mess on your face. His come covered your lips, cheeks, and glasses; you quickly sucking up air greedily, tongue gliding across your lips to lick away his mess.

You breathed as his hand found your chin, raising your face to get a good look at you. Sukuna was truly satisfied with his work, grinning down at you. His thumb wiped some of the milky liquid left on your cheek, moving over to your mouth and watching you lick and suck his digit clean. “Mm.. that’s a good girl.” He praised, withdrawing his thumb and pulling your glasses off shortly after.

His hand slid to your throat the moment he pressed your lips together, rising you up a bit while you held onto his wrist. Sukuna’s tongue invaded your mouth once again, making it an even bigger mess. Soon he pulled away, staring down at you.

“Haven’t even fucked you yet and that attitude is no where to be seen. Maybe I shouldn’t..“ Sukuna was pulling away before you could even respond, reaching as if going to pull his pants up. “— looks like I already proved myself, right?” You quickly shook your head, reaching over to grab his wrists. The vampire laughed at this, coming closer to trap your form between him and the couch. “C’mon use your words, sweetheart. What exactly do you want?”

You bit the inside of your cheek, staring into his eyes. You were sure if you didn’t say anything in the next few seconds he would turn and exit the room, leaving you high and dry. You swallowed your pride, rising up higher to rest your hands onto his chest. “You. I need you so bad, Sukuna— please.” You gasped out, crumpling his shirt into your hands.

Sukuna listened to your pleas greedily, a permanent grin painted across his face. Just when you thought it didn’t work he was grabbing your shoulder, turning and pushing you to lay across the couch. Your heart beat fast against your chest, feeling the cushion dip as kneeled behind you. In one swift motion he was pulling your jeans and panties all the way down, revealing yourself to him.

The moment you tried to close your legs, his palm slammed against your ass; causing a cry to escape you, pressing your face into the cushion. “Don’t even try that. Wanted this so bad, you better fucking take it.” Sukuna hissed, grasping his length as he lined up with your fluttering entrance, carefully pushing in.

The stretch teetered between pleasurable and painful, rising onto your hands and gripping the cushions underneath you as you could do nothing but whine, body shaking. Sukuna sneered at your withering form, gripping your hips tightly. “‘M not even all the way in and you’re already losing yourself..” With a final thrust he was all the way in, resting deep inside your messy pussy, stretching you so pretty. You cried out the moment his fingers gripped your hair, pulling you into a deep arch whilst hovering over body, lips brushing your ear.

“Still think I ain’t no different then a human man?”

“Fu..fuck you.” You whimpered out, breathing heavily the moment he adjusted his hips.

Sukuna snickered softly, “You already are, princess.” With the continued grip on your hair he was pulling his hips back until only the tip was inside, slamming back in. The movement caused your body to lurch forward, gasping out and greedily sucking the air back up. You opened your mouth to speak, shutting up the moment another thrust racked through your body.

And another.. and another.. and another—

His pace was relenting from the start, fucking you so harshly your body bumped against the arm rest of the couch; nails digging into the cushions as shameless moans escaped you. Each time you attempted to pull away, to run— he was grabbing you back, slapping your thighs, ass, anything he could reach. All while speaking to you in that mocking tone, ridiculing you.

“Had so much to say yet you’re running..”

You opened your mouth to defend yourself, the thought melting away as his thrusts ruined you. His cock dragged against your walls, fucking each and every thought out of your mind; replacing them with him. Your eyes were pinched close, drawls of his name and moans escaping your swollen lips. “Su—sukuna, fuck..!” You cried out, feeling yourself get close.

Sukuna’s hands kept a tight grip on your hips, bottom lip caught between his sharp fangs the moment you began to fuck back against him. Your ass shook with each bounce, the man zoned in on the erotic display. Fuck, you felt so good, way too good. The man sucked his teeth, hand falling to your ass cheek and slapping one, thrusting harder than before. “Greedy fucking pussy, clenching me so damn tight..” He dragged, a groan rumbling in his chest.

Tears sprung to your eyes, head going slack as a loud cry escaped you, creaming all over his length. The mess trickled down to his balls and the couch, soaking the cushion. Your tired body went slack against the furniture, feeling his thrusts slow, but never stop. A sudden tight grip on your hair had your reeling, whining as he pulled you back.

“I’m not fucking done with you.”

The vampire wasted no time and flipping you onto your back, pulling you down by your thighs and pushing them up to sink deeper inside you. Your hands clung to his wrists, crying out at the slight burn the stretch left you. You were given no time to think, the man resuming his fearsome thrusts at a completely different angle, ramming agonist a spot inside you that caused you to completely lose your mind.

Your hands went slack, lips agape as babbles and moans escaped your raw throat. Your eyes were meeting the back of your skull, makeup a mess with wet dark streaks running down your chubby brown cheeks. Sukuna enjoyed the sight completely, eyes flicking between your face and the way his cock slid inside your pretty pussy, the white foamy mess coating his length.

He leaned over your body, legs now held up by his shoulders as he continued to fuck you. “What a mess you are.” The man hissed, hand reaching to grab your chin. “Can’t even think straight can you? I’m fucking you too dumb huh?” He mocked, your sweet moans music to his ears.

Your hands rose to his back, gripping his shirt for leverage as you came again, painting his lower body with your mess. Sukuna laughed softly at this, still fucking you despite just orgasming. “Claimed you weren’t a fang-banger yet here you are, coming all over my dick. Such a liar, (Y/N).”

Your whines didn’t go unnoticed, the man’s hand falling to your waist and lifting you up a bit, drilling into you. His cock pushed against your cervix, the pain melting with each thrust inside. You barely even registered his fangs pressing against your skin until they entered your collarbone, a strangled whine escaped you.

The man sucked the crimson droplets that released from the wound, blunt fingernails digging into your skin; Sukuna slowly getting drunk off your taste. When he had his fill he was pulling away, licking up the residue and sealing the wound. His other hand grabbed the back of your neck, lifting your head from the couch to lock lips; the metallic taste of your blood causing you to groan— all while continuing to jackhammer into you.

The vampire was right, he was fucking the attitude out of you. You so pliable, gripping onto him as if he was a lifeline and you were in the open sea. Your legs were trembling, pussy clenching and clenching, as he swallowed the sweetest moans with his lips tainted with your blood. A fucking mess you were.

His mess, obviously.

A different type of clench entered your stomach, one that caused your eyes to fly open. You pulled back from the kiss to cry out, gripping him tightly. “Wa—wait, Sukuna— hah…— please slow down!” You somehow managed out, hazy eyes staring up at the clear distaste resting on his features.

He didn’t listen, slamming into you roughly, swatting the hand away that went to press against his hips. Sukuna tutted at the whine that escaped you, drilling you deeper and deeper into the furniture. “Make another mess, ruin this fucking couch.” He hissed, feeling his own end growing close.

You tried to hold it back, back arching from the cushions as black filled streaks continued to glide down your cheeks. Soon enough you could no longer contain yourself, the band snapping inside you as you screeched in pleasure; drenching the cushions underneath you, making a complete mess of the both of you.

Sukuna grinned at this, far too caught up in his own pleasure to release a snarky comment. Instead his face fell to your neck, thrusts becoming uncoordinated before he shoved himself deep, flooding you with his come.

The sound of your pants entered the space, your hands continuing to hold onto Sukuna. Your head fell back against the couch, eyes pinched closed and focused on regaining your breath.

Moments passed before the vampire rose, pulling his hips back, shushing the sensitive whine that escaped you. Once no longer inside, Sukuna’s hands dragged down to spread you more, watching pearly white beads trickle from your opening and down to your taint. The man smirked just a tad, eyes carrying back to your tired face.

“Looks like you’re a fang-banger now.” Sukuna spoke, watching you attempt at a frustrated face which melted away the moment his thumb slid across your slit.

“Fuck, Sukuna.. I’m too sensitive right now.” You whimpered, shying away from his touch. You gasped as he gripped your thighs however, dragging you farther down the couch.

Sukuna leaned over your body, resting on a forearm placed above your head. “You have seven minutes sweetheart.”

You rose an eyebrow at his words, adjusting yourself, “For what?”

The vampire grinned, curling a piece of hair around his finger. “If you thought I was gonna stop there, I fucked you far too dumb. I’m getting rid of that attitude permanently, remember?”

Your eyes widened, excitement and fear bubbling inside you. The man leaned down, stealing your lips in a deep kiss.

You were thankful you thought to send a text message to your best friend to leave when she wanted, given you didn’t leave the room until the bar closed.

reblogs & comments are appreciated <3

[skymagpie]

I recently read "The Last Guardian" and I am absolutely delighted by it, I feel like when it comes to Khadgar content this is a huge "must read" because the whole book is just so good-natured despite the fact that this sets off a never-ending series of deeply traumatizing events for Khadgar.

Here's some things that canonically happen in this book and that I just found so endearing or fun:

The Kirin Tor literally sends Khadgar off to Medivh because Khadgar kept wandering the halls of the Violet Citadel at night and being so nosy that he caught his professors on drinking binges, sleeping with students or trying to summon demons. Medivh knows that they sent him here hoping he dies because he knows too much.

Khadgar rambling and babbling and being delightfully awkward

Khadgar forgets how to talk when he meets Medivh and makes some strange sound to which Medivh asks Moroes if "the lad is ill."

Medivh having scheduled times for breakfast, lunch and dinner and keeping to them. Also he and Khadgar are just eating porridge with sausages for breakfast every day when he is around.

Khadgar having his inscription set with him that he carries all neatly packaged and tidied up, even though he is this scruffy dirty looking teen boy.

Lothar and Medivh both have this dad relationship with Khadgar, but Lothar is like the cool supportive dad who would take you to a soccer game and would support you at pride with the wrong flag.

During this particularly deep conversation about time and space, Medivh encourages Khadgar to have a bit of wine, Khadgar gets a little tipsy and then Medivh encourages Khadgar to live a little and try to levitate e mug with his magic even though he has been drinking - naturally it ends with Khadgar cleaning the floor afterwards.

When Medivh falls into a coma after their demon encounter at Stormwind, he entrusts Khadgar with handling his mail and Khadgar spends most of his free time sitting next to Medivh's bed and reading him the mail - especially the funny parts.

In the same situation when Medivh wakes up, he sees the startled Khadgar on the floor (after a vision of Sargeras) and softly asks him why he didn't ask Moroes to set up a bed for him there if he wanted to stay in his room.

Khadgar goes very quickly from "Guardian! There is an ORC in the tower!!!" to "Garona is my friend :)"

Khadgar and Garona spend a lot of time rebuilding the library after Garon thrashes the place in order to save Khadgar's life. They make a makeshift woodwork station in the stables outside Karazhan.

Khadgar has like a lowkey puppy crush on Garona and this is actually innocently cute.

Khadgar and Garona on the road when they flee from Medivh is such a nice sequence because they protect each other (from the orcs and humans who would hurt the other one) and also about the fact that they feel betrayed by Medivh. Also Khadgar just wants her to like and trust him 😭

Lothar gets Garona to wear the Stormwind armor by telling her that it matches her eyes and that Khadgar will wear it - and then Khadgar also tells her it matches her eyes and she looks good in it. Lothar using elementary school level tactics to get them to wear the Stormwind armor is so funny.

I just feel like this book was really fun and the pacing of the story was great between building up Medivh as an antagonist who genuinely cared for Khadgar, solving the murder-mystery around him and had the right amount of just daily domestic stuff between Khadgar and him and Khadgar and Garona. Not to mention the excellent parallels between Medivh losing his youth and waking up as an old man and Khadgar losing his youth while also going through what is a very sad coming of age story for him.

[iguessitsjustme]

4Minutes Ep 1 Drunk Thoughts

I have had A WEEK so I decided to get drunk this weekend and also liveblog something. 4Minutes won my poll so that’s what I’m watching. As you can probably tell by the fact that I am coherent, I am not yet drunk. Haven’t even started drinking yet. (I just had to go buy more alcohol because I don’t think my one bottle of wine was gonna be enough to get me drunk.) Drinking starts now and liveblog starts under the cut:

All I know about this show is I’m gonna be very confused and I’m gonna see a lot of ass.

Killer soundtrack jesus

Oh he’s dead. Goodbye friend. Dead.

BIBLE SPEAKING ENGLISH. Blessings to me.

Why is every noise currently happening all at once?

That’s just anxiety. You’re fine (I am not a medical doctor nor a time wizard but I am also ~right~

And that’s what claustrophobia feels like ladies and gentlemen

Fascinated by his necklace. I like it. I am not a huge jewelry person but if I had a necklace like that, I would wear it.

Well. Hate him now. What kind of jackass needs a car with an engine that loud (I live on a busy street and I suffer btw)

This is all very cinematic for some reason. I’m sure I will find out the reason at some point but right now I’m just vibin

I’m sure this investment department this man has never heard of but is the backbone of this company is very above board and is not gonna be the cause of any problems whatsoever…I should go find a snack.

Oh hit and run. What a dillweed.

I want cake. So bad. Do you know what I don’t have? Cake. But Great apparently can either travel through time accidentally or see the future. I…want cake.

This doctor with the glasses better keep his glasses.

I migh be tipsy but i’m still me and he needs his glasses or i’ll riot

Aahshhsdghlk don’t show me the surgery ahhahahhahh i am squeamish i don not like aahaha

Whatever is going on with this story, I can at least say the soundtrack slaps

I like Korn. Which worries me. Because like. He’s probably gonna die.

I do not like how cute these two are. Gonna hurt me.

Oh straight into sexy times I see

Ass count: 1

Why do all BL boys (do we count this as BL?) open condoms with their teeth? Stop that.

I…need more wine. I don’t mind high heat shows but they aren’t really my cup of tea so to speak.

Horny boys. Very horny. I think the burger and milkshake I rordered are here. Right as they almost start round two. God bless

Borger time chom chomp

Ominous thunder is ominous. Also the fuck is whit that cat?

Oh so Korn is Great’s brother. Got it. He gonna die and the brother I don’t like is gonna live. But he’s played by Bible so I forgive…for now.

Oh well these parents are shitty and actually I no longer dislike Great. No wonder he’s Like That. And given the second opportunity he did not do a hit and run. So he is redeemable at least

Korn has such older sibling energy

I love the sibling bond. This is gonna hurt me so bad I can tell

Korn is so niceys about Great smoking. If I ever caught any of my younger siblings smoking, I would have beat their ass (I cannot actually beat their ass I am not a violent person and also both of them would win against me in a fight howmstever, they would definitely never smoke again by the time I was done with them)

Listen. Listen. Drunk truth time. Tyme? Is that his nme? I don’t liek him. Sometimes about his voice just makes me think…do not trust this man. He lowkey sounds like First and maybe I’m still annoyed by Kant in THK and don’t trust him but my gut is saying Tyme only cares about himself and he pretends to care about others but he doesn’t not really. I could be completely and totally wrong. I’m just a drunk idiot. This is just how I am feeling

Overweight? OVERWIEGHT??? Fucking WHERE? Not that there’s anything wrong with being overweight but girl. GIRL. You are literally skin and bones. That’s like calling my overweight and I am tiny. TINY. I turn sideways and disappear. What in the ever lovin fuck…

Oh grandma’s gonna die. Cursed by the narrative. (sober Rae edit...I realize this is his mother..I think)

Psychic man. He sees his future sex life of course.

OOOOHHHHHH

I don’t know what’s going on. Time for episode two.

[mangionebabymama]

https://www.tumblr.com/mangionebabymama/778241268087128064/girl-i-wanna-fuck-jacob-so-badly-holy-fuck-omg-omg

Yas as in legal team Jacob 😫fuck! Yall bitches can fight over Luigi IDGAF no more, i need my man right now. Girl you in NY right? GET ME MY MAN👏❤️ong i need to sit on his face like idk… i love knowing my man isn’t locked up but trust, if i end up fucking this man, I’ll try seducing the guards and freeing lulu. Btw I’m tipsy so lowkey dk wtf I’m typing but drunk statements are sober thoughts and speaking of tips, i need Jacob to put his so far deep in my coochie that it comes out my mouth like yasssssss it’s giving covid test

Honestly, go fren. You go head now and take one for the team, ALL of us

I am not in NY, unfortunately, but if I was—I’d have you covered fr

[shakirawastaken]

dsmp if....it was taylor swift

i am the biggest swiftie dsmp blog here i am a swiftie i love taylor swift unless she sings new romantics at a show that im not at then i hate taylor swift

dream: paper rings by taylor swift (from Lover)  - i have written a one shot to dream for stay stay stay like a year ago. please read that too amen - i feel like this song lowkey fits him so well??? just like lowkey - cause like man is rich as fuck hes like a CEO and stuff  - BUT let me backtrack - you met him before he face revealed in the middle of the swamp in florida (orlando) - lets use my other post and say you met him in the grocery store SLAY - you “went home and tried to stalk him on the internet” - and obviously couldn’t find anything - but you reached out to him over text and he didnt answer you..bc he was like filming or smth and you were like bruh - but he eventually did answer you and you were like cool - you guys hung out ALOT  - as friends - to the mall as friends, to the cafe as friends, to the movies as friends - you even met his friends...and then you figured out he was Dream  - your relationship was like slaying at this point - you moved in with him! - and at this point now that you know Dream is Dream and is RICH - he showers you in gifts - expensive jewlery, trips to places, the mans love language is gift giving and he def has the $$$ to make that happen! - but one day he was like drunk or smth idk  - and he was like “wanna get married?” - and you were like “LOL sure” - and he, in his lovesick era, talked about the ring he would buy you in great detail - you were flattered ofc and laughed along - the next morning he woke up from his drunk era and was like “did you really mean it” - and you were like “yes!! i like shiny things, but i’d marry you with paper rings whenever you want dream” - and he was like “bet” - and he made paper rings and you drove to the courthouse and GOT MARRIED STOP IT THAT IS ADORABLE AND YOU HAD AN ACTUAL CEREMONY LATER CUTHE MF CAMERAS THAT IS IT THIS IS IT - I WANT TO WRITE THIS INTO A ONESHOT COMMENT “ceo of minecraft” IF YOU WANT IT - runner up song for dream was wonderland btw

george: gorgeous by taylor swift (from reputation) - now LISTEN i was gonna do London Boy - but im saving that for another thing - GORGEOUS FITS and its not just cause george is actually very pretty - this takes place in LA, george is here and you work here  - you also have a boyfriend - lets say you and some of your friends went out to a club one day - so did the dream team tm  - and you just came from a stressful day at work so you did what anyone would do and you drank - enough to get you a bit tipsy - and somehow all the stars and planets and fates aligned and you bumped into mr notfound - and you were like “sorry!!” - and he was like “oh its alright” but he said it british - and you were like “HAHAHAH YOURE BRITISH” and you mocked the way he talked  - you were tipsy alr - and he knows he should have been offended but he couldnt help but smile bc he thought u were cute - you two talk some more and you sober up through the conversation - its cliche but you forget everything else when u talked to him - including your very real boyfriend - and he shoots his shot “do you think i could have your number?” - your eyes shoot open wide and you just groan - “i got a boyfriend, he’s in the club and idk what he’s even doing.” and george is like “oh - but then you just keep going and youre like - “dude if you have a girlfriend im jealous of her” - and he laughed - “but if youre single thats honestly worse” - and he was like “how is that worse” - and you gathered all your confidence and was like “you’re so gorgeous it actually hurts” - and he smiled and said thank you - and you watched as his face moved to sadness - “i dont want to get in the way of your relationship, it was nice meeting you” he says as he walks away - DONT LET HIM WALK AWAY your mind yells at you - but you cant have him, bc youre taken - nothing you hate more than what you cant have - ding - why do all of these suck today guys im so sorry

OH SHIT I FORGOT I WAS GONNA DO STYLE WITH GEORGE UGHHH lmk if you want that

sapnap: you are in love by taylor swift (from 1989)  - you both start as best friends in this scenario - like best friends since high school middle school school  - you talked everyday , hung out everyday - it was natural that you would form a crush on the man - but then he moved to Florida - you totally understood why he did that - but the communication between the two of you died down - and so did your crush, it flickered out - but one day, he texted you - “hey! im coming back to texas for a couple weeks. are you down to hang out?” - and ofc you said yes - you two met up in a little diner, just to cach up  - and it was like you two had never seperated - you were joking around and laughing just like the old times - eventually you two were ordering coffee at midnight as he told you get in the car - he said “i have a surprise for you” - who were you to deny him? - so you got in the car and he sped off to the old dirt road or something where you used to go in high school - shoulders brushing as you two sit in the trunk, he tells you to look up at all the stars - but you looked at him instead, and all your feelings came crashing over you - all you could hear and think about while he drove you home, while you slept was that - “you are in love, true love” - god this SOng THIS SCENARIO - the weekend before he moves back to florida - you had spent the night over, wearing his old shirt as a pajama - burnt toast because he dont know how to work the toaster - you decide to make a move, to let go of your fears on how he’s gonna react - and you kiss him on the cheek - you two spend the whole day being a little more romantic than usual - holding hands, kisses on cheeks, etc - you spend the night over at his house again - then he wakes up in the middle of the night with this look of ?? on his face - you turn to look at him, staring him dead in the eyes - and he stares back, the moon reflecting onto his face - “you’re my bestfriend” he silently whispers, scanning your face for ANY reaction from you - and your heart starts rushing and your head starts beating and all you know is that he is in love with you. and you are in love with him.  - the night continues in a rush of kisses and rushed feelings - he of course had to go back to florida - but now he keeps a picture of the two of you in his wallet - and you see him in everything around you - you two facetime everynight and talk about everything with each other - because you are in love, true love - bonus: when sapnap gets home dream’s like “whats up with you” - and sapnap just shrugs and grins  - “spent some time w my best friend” - “IM NOT YOUR BEST FRIEND?” - dream LMFAOO - can you tell im in love with this SONG quackity (hits different from midnights (the till dawn edition)):  - I KNOW THIS SONG HAS A LOT OF DIFFERENT INTERPRETATIONS OKAY - im very aware of that its all i speculate and talk about - its like that one meme with the guy and the bulletin board and hes like “DO YOU SEE THIS” - but i interpret this song as someone singing to a person (bonus points if theyre a friend) they have a major crush on!!! except their crush is dating someone - and you can tell that the person they are dating aint it for them - its giving you belong with me - in this, you’re quackity’s neighbor - and you two have lived next to each other for a while  - to the point where you two have become kinda good friends! youd eat dinner together, have some movie nights, etc - you could say you know him pretty well - well ig you didnt know him as well as you think - one night you knock on his apartment door, looking for someone to hang out with whatever - ignore that you had a crush on him that you were actively suppressing - and his girlfriend answers the door all nice like “hi! how are you!” - and youre like “im good, are you?? who are you?” - and quack pulls up behind her and is like “OH meet my girlfriend!” - and youre like “oh! nice to meet you!” - then you shuffle back to apartment ASAP - suddenly it hit you that the person you had a crush on was unavaliable - and suddenly you felt the anguish that comes from him being in love with someone else - it made you wanna throw up - you call another friend up and meet up at a bar, ready to drink your sorrows away - and the bar you go to is playing the song you and quackity listened to everytime together - you groan and explain everything to your friend who’s just like “oh my! love is a lie, don’t worry - it happens to everyone” just to get you by - but you knew this wasn’t like any other time - youve been so willing to move on in the past - it hit different this time because it was him - you drink so much you start slurring his name and your thoughts are plagued by him - someone puts you into a car and sends you off to your apartment - you slump onto your bed, and fall into a restless fit - dreams of his hair, and his stare, and his sense of belief. of times you once believed he could love you.  - you dreamed of you melting his world like an argumentative, antithetical dream girl - the next morning, you hear a key turning in his door  - and you cant help hope but hes coming in to check on you - so you rush to open the door - he jumps and looks at you startled - “hey! my girlfriend and i heard you come in from the bar last night! must have been a wild night!” he chuckled, wishing you the best of health as he retreated into his apartment - you stare at the spot he was just standing out, letting out a big sigh as you groan, your hangover catching up with you - “catastrophic blues, moving on was easy for me to do. it hits different, it hits different cause its you”  - be glad i didnt pick “youre losing me” for this cause damn

karl (invisible string from folklore): - okay. i have already written a karl one shot. to holy ground by taylor swift. from red (taylors version) please go read after this. amen - okay - THIS OSNG THIS GOSNGS ITHSIGHSDJKFG - i cant get over the childhood best friends to lovers shit - but i dont think youre childhood besties - you just met when you were younger - its giving karl lives in a place where your family used to take you on vacation every summer - like to ur grandparents place or some white shit like that - every summer, you would go to the park, read and then go get fro yo at the shop near by - every year growing up, youd read stories of epic romances - and you couldnt help youd meet somebody there, sitting in that park - then, they year you were 16. you went into the fro yo shop. same as always - and there stood a 16 year old karl, in a teal shirt, asking you what you wanted to eat - there wasn’t anyone else in the store, so you two talked. and you two clicked instantly.  - you went back everyday for that year - and did the same every summer after that - until one summer, you told him that you were moving to LA. to pursue your career - and he finally gave you his number - when he finally got around to going to LA he called you up - and you two reconnected, just like the old times. ate at your favorite dinner spot and everything. you decide to try something more - so you date long distance - three years later, you two meet up at the old yogurt shop. and then got lunch down by the lakes - now, years later you two live together. in the same small town you vactioned in every year - you two walk the park you read at every day - karl owns the yogurt shop you two met at  - and you cant help but think that even through all the bad things that you had in  your life - the only good thing that was stringing along for most of your life was karl - karl made you less vengeful of the boys youve loved before - karl made you better. and you made him better - the both of you cant help thinking about the wonderous time, and how pretty it is to think about how “all along there was some invisible string” tying the two of you together - i feel like i coulda expanded here but i think its cute idk sorry guys

wilbur (begin again from red (taylor’s version)): - i think i got a different era for each person SCORE! - wilbur is sOOOO evermore and red coded - but not 22 or ikywt coded but all too well and the lucky one coded - you had recently gotten over a breakup and were ready to start dating again - and a friend of yours hooked you up with this guy from her office - who she said “does not do typical officer work” - you ready for anything, so you thanked her and took her offer - and now the date of your date is here, and you couldn’t help but be nervous - you critiqued and critized every small bit of you, just like your ex did - but now youve grown to love what you wear and what you look like - you blasted your favorite song that he seemed to hate as you walked out the door, as ready for this date as you could ever be - you walked to the cafe that you decided to meet up at, expecting wilbur to be late - imagine the soft surprise that took over you when he stood when he saw you, waving to you as he strode over to meet you halfway - “hi” you said breathlessly, surprised at the common decency he showed you - “hey” he said slyly, making small talk with you as he ushered you over to the table he saved - he pulled your seat out and everything, helping you take your coat off. he doesn’t know how nice that is - while you’re talking you tell some stupid joke, trying to ease your nerves - and when he throws his head back laughing like a little kid? youre done for.  - for the past 8 months you could only think about how love breaks and burns and ends - but on a wednesday, in a cafe. you watched it begin again - you cant help but smile back, agreeing to a second date - you meet up for a second date, this time in a record shop.  - you two talk about your shared love for music - and he’s like “ive never met anyone who as many los camp! records as i do” - and you were like “bet!” - turns out, you two have the same amount - you two walk around the city, exchanging stories about your lives when he suddenly teases you for being shyer than on your first date - you jsut blush and nudge him teasingly while rolling your eyes. and he laughs again.  - your ex never did that. he was never carefree, kind, and careless around you - but wilbur was. and your idea of love just grew and grew and grew - he walks you to his car, and the words about your ex are on the tip of your tongue. youre about to tell him about how different he is than your ex and how grateful you are for him - but then he cuts your thoughts off, launching into a story about him and tommy - and you find yourself wanting to talk about that instead - you can finally say what’s past is in the past - because on a wednesday, in a cafe, you watched it begin again.  i love taylor swift. i could do so many more of these. please tell me if you want