#and i was listening to the song the other day so i just thought of this

[amoristt]

the night falls like heaven

「 ✦nam-gyu/reader ✦ 」 tags: sfw // hurt/comfort, pining, nam-gyu's pov, lots of angst in an edgy way, very light drxg mentions,

a/n: this'll be a 2 part mini series! so excited to get this started ugh tysm to anon who requested this word count: 9.2k | songs i listened to (x) (x) original request (x)

・❥・Nam-gyu was not a man of many regrets. 

If he had to count, he could fit them all on one hand. Mostly from when he was a teen. Younger and somehow even more impulsive than he was now, drinking through money like water and getting into fights he’d never remember. The worst of them all, however, was one he hadn’t thought would really eat at him. It was unlike himself to get hung up over a girl of all things, but good lord, he was hanging. Strings and all, like a marionette, bleeding and sore at the joints. 

Tough to swallow couldn’t even compare to the feeling of when that specific regret suddenly pops up in the same room after years of abandon. If he hadn’t been so down bad, the sight of you would have only ruffled up his feathers enough to remind him of a better time, but in God’s honest eyes, those feathers of his had been ruffled since the dawn of the very instant you left. The door hadn’t even had a chance to hit you on your way out, nothing but dust and tears in your wake. He was stuck fast, left to his own devices, bouncing between wondering why he let it go so bad and whilst also begging God himself to make you stop being such a bitch. 

But the worst part, the worst part is that even now you still carry this aura of over it all around you. Self-respect colliding with the want to be loved was never an easy tango to dance, all steps just pulling and pushing and trying to snuff out useless feelings and red hot passion. But you twirled until he did what he did best and nudged you to the brink of your breaking point. All that sweet, sweet adoration drained from your face and he saw it- dignity. He saw it on you on your  way out of his apartment, storming past him with biting tears in your eyes. And now, years later, he gets to see it again from across the room.

You’re sitting on a high, high bunk you’ve claimed as yours, people watching. Other than the initial moment you’d seen him in the bubble of people, you haven't bothered sparing him a second glance. It was a beautiful moment- your eyes widening, stopped dead in your tracks before you were on the move all over again. He’s sneaking glances through the corners of his eyes, watching you over his shoulder, and you can’t even give him another second of your day. And the thing that really bothers him is that he knows he can’t stop. 

Out of everyone in this room, your distant presence is a fiery beacon in the darkness and he’s an angry, bitter moth. It’s in his very nature to circle and flutter one step behind, seeking the light, burning at its touch. Singed wings and an endless sneer. If only he could just stop touching the heat, he would surely move on. But he just can’t, and the fact that you can pisses him off so much it makes him lose his breath at times. 

He wished, with the very core of his entire being, that you were weaker. Or, at least, stupider. Maybe then you would have lived up to his expectations and showed up to his door, or at his club, teary eyed and lonely without his superior presence around. He could see it behind his eyes at night, the waver in your voice when you’d beg him to come back into your arms, and more importantly, back into your bed. 

I told you so, he’d say, with that shit eating grin and a hand on your waist guiding you out from the cold.

A forlorn, guideless sheep in need of your shepherd. He could be that for you. If only the word boyfriend didn’t make him shudder with every last fiber of his being. If only that specific little thing wasn’t your breaking point. Your face haunted him- that halo around your irises fading into something far away and charred when he’d had the nerve to actually laugh at you for it. You were grabbing your things and leaving, and he sat watching every moment in clips. It wasn’t anything, back then. You were just mad, in a few days you’d be right as rain climbing into his lap and peppering kisses along his throat. You’d be back, he was sure of it. 

But then the days turned into weeks. And then, to his distaste, those weeks faded into months of silence. He started to catch himself looking for you in crowds, visiting places you’d frequented at just to linger around like an awkward ghost in case he spotted you through the shifting crowds. But you were gone- vanished.

Fine. You’ll never see me again, asshole. 

Those words had been etched into the very walls of his cranium since they’d left your lips in a scathing hiss. Such nasty words, but they shook with every consonant. 

Among your pride was a healthy blend of honesty. You had been true to your word- he really did never see you again. Wiped your slate spotless of anything Nam-gyu.

And it drove him fucking crazy. It made him sick to his stomach in a way he did not think was possible. It was out of control- he couldn’t stop thinking about you, you, you. He missed you more than he didn’t, and he was angrier at himself than he’d like to admit. So instead of admitting, he funnels all that anger into the very shape of you. Drags in the idea of you, his memories of you and shoves them down, down, down, until he truly did think he hated you, after all. 

Until he’s clenching his fist so tight he’s drawing blood and telling himself he’s better off now, without some whining bitch in his ear begging him to stick that boyfriend pin into the thinness of his skin. Thinks that without you hanging on his arm all the damn time, he could really go out and have some fun. He thinks, and he thinks and he thinks until he’s thought too much and suddenly he loves you again and he misses you so bad it’s crushing him under the sheer weight of your absence. 

So, Nam-gyu does what Nam-gyu does best once again, and he drowns himself out with the bitter taste of drugs on his tongue and the sear of alcohol in his blood. 

It all stops.

For a time, anyway. 

You always found ways to seep back into his mind one way or another. Songs that would only make it a second in before he was mashing the skip button. A tv show you’d watched together surviving on the screen roughly a whole minute before it’s switched off. Sometimes it was when he saw something he knew you’d like- a shitty video or meme. Other times you came to him in whispers while he laid out on his own living room floor, out of his mind watching the blank ceiling above him twist and writhe under his spotty vision with a needle poking out of his arm. 

But, most times… Most times you would slither your way to the forefront of his mind just before bed. The touch of you, the smell of you. 

The shape of you underneath him. Hands and quiet breaths. He could still hear the noises you made ringing in his ears, stored away in his memories just to taunt him when he was indisputably alone. Soft skin, even softer thighs. Always so warm, and so wet. So willing. You would come to him while he curled over himself in bed, drunk on porn and memories. 

And afterwards, when Nam-gyu had finished, he would throw his head back onto his pillow and ignore the way it felt like there was a lump in his throat. And that would piss him off even more, because fuck, you should be there with him. Laying by his side running your hands through his hair until he’s falling asleep balancing on the fine line of afterglow and dozing off. 

But you aren’t. You’re doing fuck all with who knows in places he’s never been to, places you probably begged him to go but he couldn’t even remember the name of. You hadn’t answered a single one of his texts, you hadn’t picked up a single call and everytime he hears the first couple seconds of your stupid voicemail he wants to crush his phone in his hands. Vexation was a slippery slope into the fires of fury- rage was like a parasite under his skin, eating away at what little rational thinking he had. 

Voicemail after voicemail. Text after ignored text. Anger was the hardest stage- rage grew horns on the crown of his head and it turned him into something he couldn’t recognize. Or, something he refused to recognize- desperate and heartsick. 

It was supposed to be you. Not him. 

He filled the endless gaps of you with drugs often and women when he could. For a short time it would work and he would wonder why he ever let someone else get him so, so low. But then the drugs would wear off. The random woman in his room that he never bothered to learn the name of would grab her clothes and saunter out the door. He stopped letting them stay the night. He could never sleep, stared at the ceiling until 5am wondering why he still felt like shit. He would be right back where he started, sitting on the couch, staring at the door watching you leave over and over again.  

You stopped updating your socials, quit hanging out with the few people that bounced between his and your crowd, successfully scrubbed him of your life entirely. After a year, he resorted to asking around if anyone had seen you. The answer, as always, was a firm no. It was a corrosive feeling, a constant churn and thrum within the cage of his ribs. It made him even more unrecognizable to himself. Made him invite women into his lap just to shove them away when they didn’t smell like you, or sound like you. Or laugh like you.

It had been so, so perfect before. It was fun, and it was hot all the time, and sex with you felt like heaven was a place on earth. Why couldn’t you see that? Why did you have to go and ruin it with your words and pleading eyes? Nam-gyu doesn’t roll like that. You knew that. He’s a free spirit, he tells himself. No chains, no labels. No holding him down. Even if it was at the feet of this gorgeous, gorgeous body and a honey sweet voice that just always seemed to know what to say. Beautiful eyes that always watched, a smile so saccharine, whispering words against his ear so dirty it made him shiver just to think about. 

The world was too vast to be held down. 

But, truth be told, he was held down. 

He is held down. 

When you walked out of his apartment those years ago, he never left that spot, chewing his nails and anxiously spinning the ring on his finger, watching you go. He started seeing it behind his eyes. Replays it, changes the course, wonders where he’d be right now if he’d just said something different. 

Finding you at the games was like divine intervention. It had to be. Some higher power had crossed his path and plopped you right in front of him. With rolling eyes and a deadpan stare at anything except for him, sure but you were there and you weren't going anywhere anytime soon. God had heard his drug induced prayers of stupor. 

Now it was all about waiting. Waiting for the right moment to dive in and recapture you within him and he’d be right back to drinking you in at every chance he had. He’d do it differently this time, do it right so you’d cling to him and wonder why you ever wanted to leave at all. Make you wonder why you were so stupid to have been so stubborn when everything you could ever need was in the palm of your hand. He was sure of it. That strong, bullheaded expression would blitz is something vulnerable in his hands. A lurch of excitement riveted under his skin among the nerves. 

For now, he waits, and watches. Your presence could never go unnoticed by his dark eyes. 

It’s unfortunate for him that Thanos takes a notice to you, too. It’s hard not to, really, when every time he follows Nam-gyu’s locked line of sight it always leads back to you- this little sweet thing perched up at the peak of the bunks alongside the back, watching the room with this bored stare between mundane yapping with other players. 

“Someone you know?” Thanos’s voice had this subtle drip to it, this underlining excitement that Nam-gyu picks up on almost instantly. His expression stays cool, mostly uninterested despite the way he can’t seem to pry his eyes away from you even as he answers.

“Yeah.”

“Who is she?”

And then he’s stuck. Because his mouth opens for a split second to say, my ex, but he can’t quite say that, now can he? But he also can’t say an old friend either, because you simply weren’t. What you two had was something else entirely- a new plane he struggled to navigate, lovely when things were good, a hellscape when they weren't. The lines were always so blurred, fuzzy with sex and warm laughter.

He decides on something mostly true. “Someone I used to hang out with.”

“Girlfriend?” Thanos’s brow raises with his chirp, leaning forward with clear interest. 

“No.” It comes out quick- too quick, and too heavy. Tinged venom with more baggage than even he could handle at times. Thanos catches it on impact and whistles. 

“I see. So you won’t care if I go chat her up? Hm?” 

“Don’t bother. She’s not like that.” Nam-gyu’s scoffs before he can stop himself, this unsettling seed of jealousy planting itself in his chest. 

“Hm… I guess we’ll see, huh?”

You’re dismounting from your bed and climbing onto the stairs when Thanos jumps to his feet, and Nam-gyu can already feel that itchy panic starting to blotch away at his skin. His hands, his cheeks. That seed takes its place within him bearing vicious roots. 

“Man, don’t bother,” He’s touching at Thanos’s sleeve, his shoulder, anywhere he can to try and gather his friend’s attention. “She can be kind of a bi-”

All it takes is a swat to Nam-gyu’s chest to stop him dead in his tracks, words dying his throat. Shut down, watching his friend take quick steps to you, Nam-gyu following close behind to witness.  If only he could be firmer, never demanding, always suggesting. Always rolling over and showing his soft underbelly at Thanos’s whim. Instead, he lets his lips press into a tight line and let’s it all happen right before him. 

You’re on the bottom step and taking a seat, and you see the rapper approaching before he gets a word in, but your eyes skip over him entirely and settle onto Nam-gyu’s. Distress is building in his muscles, but he’s making damn sure to keep himself in check. 

“What’s a pretty girl like you doing all alone? You want a friend?”

Up closer now, sharing your space, he sees all the things he’d been missing so deeply throughout the years. You still look just as he remembered- still bearing this expression of bemused coolness, still having these all seeing eyes that seemed to cut right through him. 

“A friend?” you hum, and your voice threatens to pull him in like gravity. “You wanna be my friend?”

If jealousy could sprout through his skin, it’d be an ugly beast of horns and claws. But it can’t, so instead, it takes shape in the way Nam-gyu’s eyes are flicking between yours and the rappers, hands wrapped up in his sleeves. 

“Stick with me, yeah? I promise to keep you safe. My number one priority.” And Thanos is patting his chest, flashing those painted nails. Makes Nam-gyu’s chest tighten, his stomach growing sicker by the second. 

Damn, you can see it, too. There’s no denying the way he’s cringing behind that distant smirk, and he doesn’t think to hide the way he’s twisting his rings on his fingers. When you click your tongue, he knows what's coming. 

“Stick with you, hm… Sorry, but I try to work alone. Partner’s tend to, how do I say…” Those eyes of your slice through him all over again, honing into him when you finish your sentence. “Disappoint me.”

Fuck. Disappointment. Oh god, how that sears into Nam-gyu’s skin. The way you look the rapper up and down, visually sizing him up, would make his heart leap into his throat if he were under that same scrutiny. He never understood how you could always be this intense with such a sweet, sweet face. Kindness was certainly a luxury and he missed it, that never ending fire that kept him warm.

“I can change that for you,” Thanos sings.  “I’m a legend here for a reason.”

“Legend? I’ve never heard of you.” Your brows raise in amusement. 

“You will. Thanos.” He puffs his chest out and nods, a half cocked grin playing over his lips. “Guy’s like me, we don’t disappoint.”

The man actually finds the nerve to reach down and pluck your hand, bringing his knuckles to his lips. Nam-gyu feels red hot scorching through his face but he’s locked in place, watching it like a car crash. Relieved when you yank your hand free and shove it into your jacket’s pocket. It’s the only good thing out of this entire interaction, he finds, especially so when Thanos’s smirk falters into a tight surprised line. 

“Don’t go and do all that. Guy’s like you will always disappoint me.” You lean back against the wall of the step, vexation evident over your features. “How about you talk to me again after the next game, yeah? Maybe I’ll feel different. Thanos.”

You always were so good at slamming the door in people's faces, always brought Nam-gyu joy to witness you shut down the advances of some poor loser trying to gain your affections. Thanos knows he’s been hung out in the cold, too. Barking up the wrong tree in the wrong neighborhood in the wrong country. So, he takes a loose step backwards and shrugs. 

“Your loss.” He sighs, and Nam-gyu follows him all the way back to his bunk in brooding silence. 

Wringing his fingers, he can’t help himself when casts a glance over his shoulder to find you one last time before you’re obscured behind metal frames and moving bodies. When he does, he feels a rush of heat in his cheeks when you’re already stuck fast staring right back, watching him go. He’s silent when he sits down at his little corner of the dormitory, silent when Gyeong-su is harping praises at Thanos. Silent, even, when Thanos says he’s determined to bring you to his side of the map. 

However, he noticeably tenses when Thanos mutters, “What a babe, huh? I should go visit her after lights out.”

Almost immediately there’s hands on his shoulders, pushing and nudging him, demanding his attention. The deepest of sighs leaves the rapper, ducking his head to find Nam-gyu’s eyeline. 

“Come on, man. Don’t be pissed, it’s in my nature, boy. Be honest. You into her?”

“Me and her…” Nam-gyu swallows. “We used to mess around.”

“Lucky you.” Thanos’s is shoving Nam-gyu’s shoulders again. “You cut her lose?”

No, she cut me loose. But Nam-gyu can’t bring himself to say that, the words lost and barred at the tip of his tongue. In the silence, Thanos takes it as confirmation. 

“That’s so cold. If I had her, I’d never let her out of my sight. Sheesh.”

Nam-gyu can’t even form words at all, anymore, irritation and envy wrapping tendrils around his throat and snuffing him out. Your earlier words spin through his brain like a carousel- come find me after the next game. Were you being serious? Were you just saying that to mess with him? He knows you- he knows your tone better than he even realizes, but he suddenly can’t decipher what’s honesty and what isn’t anymore. Jealousy blinds him, thick lenses leading him in all sorts of binds. 

He should have talked to you. He should have made the first move and made sure the first time he was breathing your air was alone. Now he’s anxious, he’s resentful, and he’s humiliated for some reason he can’t quite place. It doesn't help when he can’t resist the urge to look at you one last time, just one for the road, and you’re chatting idly with a man lounging on the other side of the steps you’re currently sitting on. There’s a five foot gap between your bodies but Nam-gyu doesn’t care- the anger that rips through him is blind, you may as well have been fucking the man right in front of him. 

It’s all he can see, tunnel vision encompassing him all the way until the moment lines start to form for lunch. Stewing in his jealousy, a bitter taste blooming over his tongue, he doesn’t jump in line because he’s got an appetite, but simply because you were rather eager to fill your belly. He tails you, matches every step and still has to jump out in front of a random player from taking the spot directly behind you. 

You notice him with a fleeting look tossed over your shoulder, eyes darting from the corners of your eyes and then forward, still as a statue. Desperate to not interact. 

Nam-gyu can’t help himself.

“You into Thanos?”

You audibly laugh at him, and the sound makes him shred the inside of his cheek.

“Maybe. What’s it to you?”

Everything. It’s everything to me. 

You look up at him over your shoulder, watching him through your thick lashes with scorn written all over those beautiful irises. There’s a flash image of you- a memory, tangled between the bedsheets, looking up at him with those gorgeous eyes and tear stained cheeks with his hand wrapped around your throat. It’s quick but it hits him like a sucker punch right to the gut. He sucks in a sharp breath. He wants to touch you- he almost does, but the line moves forward a beat and you’re moving with it away from his hesitating fingers. 

“I’m just asking.” He’s trying to be coy, but you can see right through him. 

“You worried, Nam-gyu?” 

That hits him like a sucker punch too. He’d forgotten how his name sounded on your tongue, how it rolled off so perfect and pretty even when you were pissed at him. Sometimes specifically when you were pissed at him, this bubbling anticipation running through him in waves, your passion always the spark lighting the fire in his belly. 

“I’m not worried.”

“You are.” Clocked him, again. Peered into the windows of him and saw that angry ocean of spite and regret behind his eyes. “I know you are. I can see it on you.”

“Not worried.” Nam-gyu shrugs, but he can’t meet your eyes anymore. 

Another sigh ghosts from your lips, but it’s quieter, defeated, almost. 

“I’m not interested in your friend. I’m not interested in anyone.”

And then, he says it. Quietly, as if he doesn’t want you to truly hear.

“...You seemed interested.”

“So you are worried.” You’re crossing your arms and he stares down into your hair, shoving his hands into his pockets. “What if I was? You clearly had nothing to say about it. You were right there- you didn’t tell him we had history? Or did I mean that little to you?”

You’re mad. Holy shit, you’re still so mad at him. But then his brain scrambles to tell him the good side of things- anger is not indifference. So in some ways, maybe more than others, he’s still in that little dome of yours ratting around amongst your thoughts. Means that if he does this right, it would mean something to you to be better this time. 

His lips press into a tight line. He should have talked to you, and now it’s biting him in the ass. It seemed like everything always bit him in the end. And he always let it happen, watched and never interfered. You drive the nail you’d plunged into him even deeper when you throw his words, from all those years ago, right back in his face. That last thing he had said to you before you, or the idea of you, had become a black hole.

“You know what, Nam-gyu? What was it you had said? Oh- uh, why don’t you focus on yourself and I’ll focus on me, yeah?”

It stings. It stings so bad that he physically recoils from the sound of his voice on your tongue, words spilling that just don’t seem right coming from you. Bitter resentment rises in his throat, this reflexive coping mechanism to bite back overtaking his senses. He wants to say I shouldn’t have said that. He wants to say, hear me out. But what ends up leaving him is just as ugly as the rest of his feelings. 

“Jesus. You’re still a bitch.”

The very instance those words tumble from him, he’s already regretting it with every fiber of his being. Even more so when you pluck your bento box from the guard and spin on your heels to glare absolute daggers into the very pits of his soul.

“Get over yourself. I’m glad we had this talk, it was very refreshing.”

This time he does jump to stop you, shaking his head and squeezing his eyes shut. “Just listen-”

“No.” 

He doesn’t hide the way he watches you scamper off to your little ledge, hopping up onto your bed and enjoying your vantage point above all else, focusing on your meal. The man you’d been chatting with earlier is in the bed next to yours and that’s just fucking great. The guard has to pry his stare off of you, and a bento box is practically shoved into his chest, urging him out of line. 

Nam-gyu hates the stone anchoring in his guts. Almost as much as he hates how his appetite never quite returned. All food tasted the same when you left, nothing compared to what you’d used to make him. 

The bento box was no different. 

That night, sleep avoided him. There was something keeping him awake- buzzing under his skin no matter how many times he’d rolled over and shifted himself into a new position. Of course he knew what it was- it never really left him, after all. The fact of knowing you were across the room, all alone in your bed, was this incessant knock in the back of his skull tapping him back into reality whenever he found himself comfortable enough to doze off. His mind was stuck on you, as always, wondering what you looked like right now. 

Did you sleep the same as before? Laying on your side, hair messed over the sides of your face and splayed over the pillow, those heavy lashes of yours kissing along the bone of your cheeks. He always told himself that it was you who was attached, that he was some great being and you simply touched the stars through him. How wrong he had been to think that, when the entire time he’d fit so perfectly against you, he a piece to your puzzle. 

How wrong he had been, because when he’s staring up idly at the ceiling, he thinks of the better days in his life. Always, always, it was you. Thinking of you sitting pretty in his passenger seat, watching out the window as the world blurred by in rushes. The wind blowing through your hair, your necklace catching the glint of the sun. You’d feel his eyes on you and you'd turn and smile at him so darling, so lovely, that he thought it could heal. Remembering when you’d walk into a room, shining like a beacon just for him. You’d find his lap, find his hair, find his lips against your own and you’d cry his name like a prayer. 

He was an idiot to have thought he was the something in the nothing- it was you. 

Even when he finally drifted off into sleep were you still infecting the very membrane of his mind. In his dreams, you were just as warm as you had always been. Bated breaths, hanging onto every word that left his lips, fingers that longed to touch and stroke and feel. His heart slowed to a peaceful beat, and his body curled into his pillow and blanket, trying to recreate the shape of you in his arms. For a time that evening, it worked. 

But then he woke up, and Thanos was leaning over his bed asking him if he was dead, and all those wonderful moments he’d relived were gone in a rush of bright lights and endless chatter bouncing off the walls of the dormitory. Like an addiction, the first thing he thought of when he sat up, was you. Thought about you all the way through the winding staircases and into a giant room with rainbow’s painted over the hard floor. So lost in thought that he almost misses it when the speaker starts instructing them- a 5 player minigame race. 

Teams of five. Okay, he could do that. Easy. Gyeong-su, him, Thanos. That was already three. 

It’s natural instinct when he starts to search for you in the bubble of people, his fourth member, even though he’s more than sure you’re all too excited to send him packing. The way you had looked at him at dinner the day before, he wasn’t sure if you’d even entertain a conversation with him at all, let alone join their team. But this is beyond an argument- beyond him trying and failing to lull you in, this is life and death. 

“Hey, there’s your girl again.” Thanos spots you first. He follows Thanos’s line of sight and sure enough, there you are, standing with your hands shoved into your pockets with this far away expression he can’t quite read. 

His girl. It would make him shiver, if he wasn’t already on the brink of tweaking. 

“Let’s go see if she’s changed her mind.” 

Thanos is running his hands through his hair and popping the collar of his tracksuit, a particular bounce to his step when he bounds right for you. Just as the first time, always on the lookout for yourself, you spot him coming before he gets to you. Already you’re annoyed.

By the time Nam-gyu slithers up beside him, you’re already turning Thanos’s first wave of advancements down, a snark to your tone and a glint in your eyes. 

“I’m good, thanks though.”

Thanos blinks, looks left and then right. “You’re good? I don’t see a team?”

“I’ll find one.”

“You got one right here,” He pats his chest again, before he slings his arm over Nam-gyu’s shoulder haphazardly. “Come on. You’ll be safe.”

The intensity in which you roll your eyes is fierce- an expression Nam-gyu really had only thought he could draw out of you. To make matters worse for his friend, you don’t even bother with saying no again. Instead you merely wave a dismissive hand and turn on your heels, meandering into the crowd. 

“You were right, Nam-su.” Thanos’s face drops and he unwinds his arm from Nam-gyu’s shoulder. “Not getting anywhere with that one.”

Nam-gyu is so focused watching you, that all he murmurs is, “It’s Nam-gyu.”

“Yeah. Nam-su, Nam-gyu. Look over there.” He has to force himself to look away, following Thanos’s point in the other direction you’d gone. A girl with short black hair stands off to the side, eyes traveling and sizing up all her potential team mates. Thanos pops his collar again, a hound dog chasing a brand new scent. “Let’s go see what she’s up to.”

For the first time, Nam-gyu doesn’t follow him. He says, you go, you go, and lets Thanos wind himself up all on his own before watching him go. He’s much more concerned with you and your team, this sense of anxiety starting to bud in his gut. 

He finds you like a moth to flame. Your shoulders slump at the sight of him, tired and irked. 

“Not this again.” You groan. “What, do you think you’re gonna come sweeten me up and I’ll say yes? I’m not playing on your damn team.”

Nam-gyu shakes his head and steps in front of you when you try to turn away again. His nerves are on the rise, and so is his temper. You draw it out of him like nothing else, he can’t stop himself. 

“Why not?” He asks, looking down at you with furrowed brows. You cross your arms, barring yourself from him. 

“Because I’m not.”

“This is no time to be stubborn. You don’t know what the next game is. You might need guys on your team.”

“I plan on it. There’s other men here other than you and whatever the hell his name is.”

Other men. Nam-gyu’s mouth dries up, his fingers already wringing in his sleeves. His jaw tenses with his temper, teeth grinding. 

You didn’t need other men, not when he would do anything under the sun to keep you safe. Anyone else may just let you die. Can’t you see that? 

“Why are you being-... Being like-...” He stops himself. Holy shit, his brain actually fires off the warning shot and he stops dead in his tracks staring at you in bewilderment. You adopt this expectant glare, a spiteful uptick to your lips that darkens your eyes. 

“Say it.” You sneer. “Go ahead, say it. I’m being a bitch, right?”

The word fights against his lips to get out. You’re waiting for it, at the edge of your seat, fully ready to take it in and chew it up and spit it out right back at him. But he bites it back and he swallows it down into his chest because this means something to him. Because it might mean something to you. 

“Being like this.” He stammers. “I’m trying to keep you alive.”

Your eyes widen just a fraction. “Keep me alive?”

“Can you really trust anyone here? You know me.”

“I do know you.” A flash of something provoked and somber rivets within your eyes. Anger mounting, your heart colliding with your brain in real time right before him. “That’s exactly why I won’t be on your side.”

If he’d had his foot in the door before, you were properly shoving it back outside. He doesn't know what to do, so he does the first thing he can think of as a creature of impulse, and unfortunately when it came to you that meant he was all hands. 

“Wait-” He catches you just as you’re turning away, tries to bulldoze over your defiance and smooth out all the harsh edges of your protests with the broad flats of his palms. Fingers clutching your tracksuit at your shoulders and then he’s realizing that he’s touching you for the first time in years. Your skin from underneath your jacket is just as warm he remembers, your eyes are just as doe-like at his touch too. Stubborn and ornery but overflowing with passion and static energy that settled into his bones. He needs it, he needs it. The obsession of you hits him in waves of yearn. 

He needs you more than air, he thinks. 

“Get your hands off of me, right now.” But you aren’t tearing him away- so maybe that’s progress. 

“Come on.” He ducks his head, shoulders slumping, and it physically hurts him to feel this desperate. “Stay with me.”

Oh, you don’t like those words one bit. They hit your eardrums and your eyes narrow in slits, and then yeah, you’re reaching up and catching his wrists in his iron grip before ripping his paws off your jacket. It takes a long moment for you to speak, but when you do, he swears he can hear the devil amidst the heartache. 

“You know that I can’t stay with you. Never again.”

His hands twitch to touch you again- anything to keep you there for a moment longer. 

“Come on.” 

Sadness like pits swirl in your eyes, drags your lips into a frown. “You gotta’ stop Nam-gyu. I can’t do it.”

An awful, awful mass grows in his stomach when you turn your back on him. Gets bigger with every inch you build between you and him, threatens to take over entirely and swallow him whole right in the middle of that room. If it did, and he was to be gulped up by the void, perhaps he wouldn't have to feel like this any longer. And he wouldn’t have to watch you disappear behind all the moving bodies. 

He was weaker than he was three years ago. You made him weaker. Back then, if you’d been so sure of yourself he found it rather easy to deter you. A beastly way about him when he would have just ripped you by the hand and brought you over to his team and made you sit the hell down and just stay with him. Something possessive, something under his skin at the thought of you sharing the same air as anyone other than him. You used to be so malleable in his hands- but he knows, now more than ever, that that was truly never the case. You let yourself be pliable. You let yourself fall to him. He could never, not even now, make you do anything. Not really. 

That’s the part that burns him to the peaks of his soul. That strength about you. You’re so much stronger than him, with an energy iron so it’s like running headfirst into a wall when you’d no longer graced him with your softness. Such a double edged sword, that will of yours. That attitude and the passion made him feel alive. Cold and disposed after you’d properly slammed the gate right in his face. No leverage, no space for him in your heart any longer. 

It’s cold, Nam-gyu finds. Lonely without you. 

And then Thanos goes and invites some random girl with a poor attitude (that isn’t yours) and an even weaker buddy. He tries to tell him- remind his friend of the potential disadvantage but like always all it took was a dismissive wave to get him to screw his lips shut. Rolled over, tongue caught in his throat, weakened. 

He spends a majority of his time waiting for his teams turn arguing with Se-mi and tossing gazes over his shoulder to keep a very keen eye on you, only to find a sneer growing on his features after seeing you chatting with the same player as earlier, the man with the bed next to yours. Laughter and smiles roll from your lips as natural as breathing air, and he’s nudging you with his arm and you’re letting him with this expression of pure amusement. 

That should be him. 

That ugly face of betrayal peeks through the cracks all over again, with guilt and anger and regret following in tow close behind. Sitting on his shoulders like little devils, spinning and racing through his body in waves. If you saw his face- you’d never suspect it, but his hands shake in his lap. His jaw tenses so tightly his teeth could burst into powder. Squared shoulders and an endless drag to his lips. Something in the sight of you enjoying that guys presence is reminding him of all these shitty feelings he’d been faced with when you two were together- well, no, not together, he remembers- and then he’s even angrier. Angry at you, angry at that random ass player you were talking up, angry at himself for letting it get here in the first place. 

Thanos pops open his necklace beside him and draws a fun little pill from its contents, and Nam-gyu makes it a mission to get his hands on one of those sweet little pick-me-ups. The pill is bitter on his tongue but he swallows it down in delight. And it works, too, because the moment the colors start to glow and fuse together and all sounds become this echoing fishbowl of noises, you’re vacated from the corners of his fuzzy mind. For a time, he’s at peace all over again, lost in the blurry joy. 

By the time he comes down, he’s already back in the dormitory. 

Though it takes a moment for him to realize it, he’s taking inventory of all the surviving players. One by one, watching them fill the room and find their creaky beds or their little groups. Most were distraught, though some were particularly perturbed. It takes a couple teams before he understands that what he’s really looking for, naturally, is you. He’s always searching for you, even when he knew you weren’t searching for him back. 

That’s the change, and it dawns on him like a rapture. He’d never had to care before- you were always this constant in his life, something that would always bounce right back if he tossed you aside. He didn’t give a damn if it upset you, he didn’t give a damn if it ate away at you like termites through wood. But now he does, and he gives so many damn’s they’re driving him crazy. 

Any moment spent sober and lucid were moments entirely taken up by you.

Any moment now you’ll come strutting through those doors, head held high and gunning it to make sure Nam-gyu knew exactly how much you didn’t need him. 

But then ten teams turn into twenty, and twenty five into thirty. 

“How many teams were there?” Nam-gyu asks with a voice steadier than even he expected. Thanos doesn’t need to question anything, watching the doorway all the same. 

“Fifty-six.” Se-mi hums from her spot, leaning back against the steps. 

Thirty eventually turns to fifty. 

Too much time has passed, and you’ve still yet to pop out through that doorway. He double checks those who’d already shown their faces, hoping to find you through the cracks of them, but you’re simply not there. There’s a shovel digging pits and moats into his stomach. Another wave of players trickles in and he scans them all over the same, only to feel that hollowness inside him grow once more. They saunter to their beds, to their little groups, taking up space and taking up air that should belong to you. 

Where the hell were you?

“Only two teams left,” Thanos hums. “Where’s that girl of yours?”

Nam-gyu can’t force himself to answer this time around. So, instead, he presses his nails between his teeth and nervously shifts his weight from left to right. Though he shrugs, the anxiety within him was palpable, all lines and tension that he tried to bury with nonchalance. But it wasn’t working, and felt like he was being ripped apart from the inside out.

Mind racing, thoughts circling him like birds over fresh kill. The final team walks through the doorway, slow as zombies, shifty eyed and hurriedly rushing to their beds. His eyes sit on the door, waiting, waiting. 

No one comes through. 

His shoulders fall limp. 

You didn’t make it. 

“That’s a shame.” Se-mi sighs, the sound swimming in Nam-gyu’s ears. 

Loss, real loss was a foreign feeling within his chest. He’d seen it described in the movies, in songs, this soul eating all consuming weight that blanketed over bodies and crushed, but nothing could have ever prepared for the blistering moment it wrenches itself within the confines of his heart, within the deep ache of his bones. It didn’t settle properly in his throat- his body trying to force the alien ripple of dread stitching itself right between his ribs. It hurts- his lungs can’t take in air. His breath wheezes past his lips in shallow pants, unable to tear his eyes away, like at any moment you’ll suddenly materialize right before him. 

He presses his lip into a tight line and digs his nails into his palms, anything to release a fraction of the agony festering within his body. 

Brain on fire, shaking hands and the image of you dead in a thousand different flashes, a sting to his waterlines that has him scrambling to shove his fingers against the thin skin. 

Don’t fucking cry. Don’t fucking cry.

“Bad luck. Sorry, boy.”

All the skin on his body has flushed red and sticky. He ducks his head down towards his lap, desperate to hide within himself, even more desperate to hide this part of himself from the watchful eyes of his group. He should have just made you join them. Should have thrown you over his shoulder and wrapped an immovable grasp around your arm and held you hostage until everyone had a team and then you’d have no one else to turn to. No one else, nothing else except for him. 

He can’t even hear his friend’s counterfeit empathy over the swell of his heartbeat in his ears. His body is too heavy to hold up, his arms dragging as lead, his head even heavier on his shoulders. Uncanny urges to tear at the skin of his face overcome him and he has to bury them into his hair in release, roughly running his digits through the black locks, trying to breathe and breathe and breathe. A lump the size of a boulder burrows into his throat.

Cracking his eyes open to peek down at his lip, squeezing them shut when his vision is wet and blurry. His lower lip trembles until it’s caught in his teeth, biting hard into the skin. 

Don't fucking cry.

Why did you have to be so stubborn? If you’d have just let him take care of you this one fucking time, you would be alive right now. You should be alive right now- pissed and glaring fury in his direction but breathing and taking up space and existing-

“Ah, they made it. Here I thought they were all goners.”

Se-mi’s casual tone barely reaches him, but it’s got him frantically flicking his gaze back up to the archway, his hands falling from his face, trying to see through the blotches in his sight. A handful of players take soft steps into the room, all shaken up, all bewildered.

There you are. His racing heart stops entirely.

You’re sauntering into the dormitory like a wounded animal, all hands wringing out in front of you and lines drawn into your frown. For the first time, in Nam-gyu’s eyes, you look small. Frightened. Every step you take has a weight to it he’s never witnessed you bear. And even from across the room, even with rigid tears trapped in the corners of his eyes, he can see the grip of fear on the flat of your throat. 

All those jumping thoughts settle into a tunnel vision, you at the epicenter of his quaking nerves simmering down into stillness. He forgets how his chest had twisted as if a knife had been planted between his collarbones, and he forgets how he had almost lost his lunch right there on the floor. All because you’re standing there in the middle of the room hugging yourself, white as a ghost, even paler when you lift your head up and see the way Nam-gyu is trapped in your line of sight. 

Nam-gyu see’s it. No hate, no dejection. 

Relief- this instant where your widened eyes soften, your frown lifts into a slack-jawed breath of solace. It rocks his world when it hits him and it lights a flame so hot under his skin it’s burning through his veins. All the air trapped in his lungs leaves him at once and he can pinpoint the exact moment all the tensions in his shoulders and back melt away in nothingness. The tears dry, his lower lip released from his gnashing teeth.

The man you’d joined earlier pats your shoulder and offers you a pathetic, wavering thumbs up. You can’t seem to return his dull enthusiasm. In fact, you look worse than Nam-gyu’s seen you thus far. Changed, all wires sticking exposed and sparking. There’s this lifelessness to your body when you climb up the stairs and have to heave yourself up into your bed, crossing your legs and resting your chin on your palms propped up over your knees. 

When your eyes meet his, he expects some sort of sign of contempt, or perhaps maybe you’d refuse to meet his gaze entirely. Instead, for the first time since you’d arrived, you find him first. 

You offer him a pitiful open palmed wave. 

The pearly gates crack open and Nam-gyu feels it again- warmth. Even just a little bit, like lighting a match in a snowstorm, huddling around the flame. He half cocks a smile, and he waves back. 

--

Lunch came quicker than he’d anticipated, and much to Nam-gyu’s dismay, you weren’t exactly thrilled to hop into line. In fact, ever since you’d let him jam his fingers back into your closing door, you’d hardly acknowledged anything other than your lap. Even more so upsetting, that player you hung around tapped your mattress to gather your attention, pointing to the line, sighing in defeat when you’d shook your head. 

Jealousy seeps into his wounds all over again, quiet, but equally as simmering. Don’t act like you know her. Little devils tapping away at his psyche. She doesn't need you to check up on her.

But then again, he realizes, maybe you do. 

His mouth dries when the sound of his thoughts footsteps come running up on him. His greed. His innate ability to leave you unchecked and grappling. That was among the sea of problems Nam-gyu had been struggling to grasp. Here he was, trying to drag you back into the tar pits of his hold and he hadn’t even tried the basics of kindness. The step one of it all. Always taking, taking, taking and demanding more at every swipe. Always expecting, never building. 

So he jumps into line before he can second guess himself, and he takes his bento box with a grateful nod and he doesn’t waste a second before he’s chasing the trail of you to your bed. From your high point, perched and unmoving, all he can do is climb the stairs and rest his hands over the corner of your mattress. Your far away gaze lifts from your lap and settles down to him. 

The air is different. The landscape of you has changed. 

“What is it.” Your tone is uncannily flat, but it’s void of its bite, its drive. 

“Can I come up?” 

It’s a simple request, but it leaves a shake at the end of his sentence. It’s only natural when he mentally prepares himself for you to slap no onto his forehead, but you scoot over, and he takes the spot so quickly you wouldn’t even have the chance to say no if you thought about it too much. He hoists himself up and over, fills the gap at your side, just as he should have done days ago. He sits the bento box at the crest of your lap.

“What’s this?” Blinking down at the food, you make no effort to pick it up. 

“Fish and rice.” Nam-gyu shrugs. “Looks like an egg, too.” 

“I can see that. I meant, what are you doing giving me this?”

“...You didn’t get anything.”

As your fingers gingerly touch the container, eyes scanning over the contents, Nam-gyu feels he can breathe easier. This is a win for him- you aren’t fighting him anymore. Still on the edge, always ready to run, but the look in your eyes isn’t pure hatred or outright hurt. A swell of pride overcomes him when you pluck the chopstick and murmur, thank you. 

You’re pliable. Now, more than ever. 

You eat in silence. He lets you eat in silence, even though peace isn’t exactly one of his virtues.  Partly because he doesn’t know what to say to you, but mostly because he’s got this innate fear that he’s going to say something shitty and you’re going to hate him all over again for it. A million words are always shoving and pushing against his lips and he fumbles with navigating them. So, silence, it is. 

But it doesn’t bother him. Silence meant that you were simply just there, existing, the one thing he had longed for over the years. He knew, deep in his heart, he’d fucked up when he began to miss the very presence of you. No sex, no drugs, no push or pull, just you. And now he gets to take whatever you’ll give in micro doses, greedy and starved for you. Fighting the urge to pull you into himself where you could never climb out. He refrains- he forces himself to just be there. 

No longer could he be the creature he had been all those years ago. He had to be different- not all rough edges and clawing hands, ripping and taking. Or dark eyes watching your every move, or jagged words cutting your flesh with the highs and lows of his tone. Something better, this time. Something for you. 

Tomorrow would be a new beast entirely. And, in less than a few hours, the lights would flicker off and bask the dormitory into hues of red and blues. You would lay alone in your all-too-large bed and he would sink into his mattress drugged out of his mind thinking countless thoughts of you, you, you. The distance would feel like miles- he needed you right there, right then, always. Anything other than what he had sitting beside you was a vast ocean. 

The bento box appears in front of his lap, half eaten.

“You’re not going to eat it?” Nam-gyu’s brows knit.

“You should eat, too. What, scared of my germs now?” You murmur, and when he meets your eyeline, he sees something familiar in those hues. Something nurturing, sweet. Tender. 

Nam-gyu picks up the chopsticks, and he eats.  For the first time in years, his food tastes like food.

[dulcescorderitas]

Hi! I was wondering if you would ever possibly write a part two to Juno (either with the very fun times trying to make a kid or with them having a kid) I just adore the way you write Clark and would love your take on either situation (especially Clark as a girl or boy dad!) thank you regardless and keep being incredible!

you’ve got your hands braced on either side of the headboard, breath coming fast, teeth worrying your bottom lip as you try—really try—to look sexy. but then clark’s face does this thing, this deep-in-thought furrow, and you lose it.

“why are you laughing?” he groans, already half-wrecked but now thoroughly distracted.

“because,” you gasp between snickers, “your sex face looks like you’re trying to calculate the square root of our mortgage.”

he throws his head back, barking out a laugh. “wow, okay. mood’s ruined. hope you’re happy.”

“deliriously.” you wiggle your fingers dramatically before sliding them down his stomach, teasing, trailing lower. “but let’s try again, professor deep-in-thought.”

he’s about to fire back, but then you move just right, and instead of a retort, a downright obscene moan tumbles out of him. your smugness is instant.

“ohhh, now we’re getting somewhere.”

“shut up,” he grumbles, face burning.

“make me.”

so he does. with his mouth, hot and insistent, trailing down your stomach as he spreads your thighs wide. with his hands, gripping your hips hard enough to bruise as he buries himself inside you, hips snapping forward in deep, punishing thrusts that knock the breath from your lungs. with his body, pressed flush against yours, sweat-slicked and trembling as he fucks you like he needs this more than air.

he groans into your neck, the sound guttural, desperate. "God, baby—so mhm—"

you claw at his back, dragging him deeper, chasing the pleasure that coils hot in your belly. "clark—faster—"

he listens. he always does. his rhythm turns frantic, each thrust leaving you gasping, your legs locking around his waist as he drives into you, relentless and perfect. he kisses you like he’s trying to swallow your moans, swallowing his own when you squeeze around him just right.

when he finally shudders, spilling deep inside you, you’re right there with him, nails digging into his shoulders as your whole body shakes.

later, sprawled in bed, catching your breath, you roll onto your stomach, eyes still hazy. "so, you think this is the one? the magic baby-making round?"

clark hums, running a hand over her back. “if not, we’ll just have to keep trying. and trying. and—”

“okay, we get it, you’re suffering.”

“deeply,” he murmurs, nuzzling into your neck, his arms tight around your waist. “but, you know, if suffering means holding you and making love to you like this every night, I think I can live with it.”

and to answer your question:

clark is 100% a girl dad. he’s got princess bandaids in his wallet, a collection of tiny hair ties in his pockets, and can paint little nails with surprising skill. he’s memorized every disney princess song and will belt out "let it go" with zero shame if it means making his baby girl smile. he’s the kind of dad who lets her pick out his tie in the morning, even if it’s bright pink and covered in sparkles.

he absolutely lets his daughter do his hair and has gone to work with glitter in it more than once. the first time, his colleagues gave him weird looks, but now they just expect it. he’s a walking canvas for tiny, chubby hands, and he’ll sit still for hours while she "styles" him with clips, bows, and whatever else she finds in her little hair kit. once, she even convinced him to wear pigtails to the grocery store.

he cries the first time she calls him “daddy,” but pretends it’s just allergies. in reality, he gets teary-eyed at a lot of milestones—her first steps, her first day of school, the first time she tells him she loves him. he’s hopelessly wrapped around her little finger, and juno teases him mercilessly for it, but he wouldn’t have it any other way.

taglist: @legalmente-loca @soangelbaby

[fuck1ng-queen]

Less Complicated

Noah Sebastian x Reader

Words: 1.6k

Warnings: none actually, enemies to lovers

Author comments: hey bestiessss! this is the first oneshot i'm posting to celebrate valentine's day with bad omens and i'm so excited to this week because i'll post one per day! i hope you all like it and see you tomorrow! 💕

The wind was blowing so hard you could hear it. You pressed your arms against your body, trying your best to close your coat around you. The leafless trees danced under the light of the streetlamps. A few small piles of snow piled up on the damp sidewalks, reflecting the brightness of the shop windows decorated with red hearts and shiny letters. The distant sound of laughter and conversations between couples walking by created a cozy backdrop, contrasting with your loneliness as you walked. Valentine's Day had never been a special day for you, it was just another one when the world around you was immersed in hearts and flowers. As you walked to the café on the corner, the one you always went to when you felt lonely, your thoughts were occupied with the upcoming exhibition you were organizing for the local gallery. It was the only thing that still kept you distracted from it all.

The sound of music in the distance caught your attention. You frowned in disapproval as you recognized the melody of the famous song by the band you avoided listening to so much. More specifically, the lead singer you'd rather forget: Noah.

Noah had always been a constant presence in your life, but not always for the best reasons. Ever since high school, your lives seemed intertwined by an inexplicable rivalry. He was the kind of person who always made a point of annoying you, as if he knew exactly where every single one of your vulnerabilities was. How could someone who hated you so much get to know you so well? And to make things worse, he did it with pleasure, always with a smile on his face that at the time you could die for, but you would never tell anyone that you found it attractive.

The music in the distance brought back memories. The fierce competitions to be the best student in the class, the discussions about who was the most creative in the projects, the challenging looks you exchanged every chance you got. Noah always found a way to unsettle you, with his unfunny jokes and constant teasing. He knew exactly how to make you angry.

“Do you really think you can beat me?” Noah scoffed after one of the many competitions you’ve entered.

“At least I make an effort, unlike you who only rely on your own cheap charm,” you retorted, with sparks in your eyes.

“Charm? I didn’t know you noticed,” he replied with that mischievous smile that only pissed you off even more.

Inside the café, the warmth and the scents welcomed you. You took off your coat and sat down by the window, opening your computer to revise a few things. You were so immersed in your work that you almost didn't notice when a man entered the café, shaking the snow out of his hair and heading for the counter. He looked different from what you remembered, maybe more mature, but still with that carefree air that irritated you so much. You blinked a few times until you believed it was none other than Noah.

“I can’t believe it.” His voice brought you back to reality.

You looked up, forcing a polite smile. “Noah.”

“You here? I swear I didn’t expect to see you.” He smiled, and you had to fight the urge to roll your eyes.

“I’m working. What about you?”

“Show. We're in town. It looks like the band is still following you,” he joked, and you let out a sigh.

“Unfortunately, it seems so.” You turned your attention back to the screen, trying to put an end to the conversation.

But Noah wasn't the type of person to be ignored so easily. He ordered a coffee and sat down at your table, facing you. “Why are you always so serious? Isn't it Valentine's Day? You should be having fun.”

“And what about you? Where's your romantic day?” you replied, raising an eyebrow.

“I don't have one. My passion is music, remember?” He shrugged, taking a sip of coffee.

“Of course. How could I forget?” you replied, with a touch of sarcasm. “You play everywhere.”

“You always notice, then” he laughed, making you roll your eyes. “But what about you, still organizing those art exhibitions?” Noah asked, trying to strike up a conversation.

“Yes, that's my job,” you replied as dryly as you could, turning your eyes back to your laptop.

“You know, you really take all this seriously. Haven't you ever thought about relaxing a bit?” he teased.

You sighed and closed your laptop with an audible click. “Noah, why do you always feel the need to tease me?”

“Because it's fun to see you get angry,” he replied with a mischievous grin. “But maybe I also like to see you a little out of your comfort zone.”

“You don't change, do you? Always the same Noah, eager to be the center of attention,” you retorted, crossing your arms.

“And you, always so focused, so determined,” he said softly. “Maybe that's what I admire about you.”

You couldn't help but be surprised by the honesty in his voice. “Admire? You?”

“Yes. As much as we fight, I've always admired your passion for what you do. We're artists, we can't deny that we're passionate, and I admire that in you. Even if I don't say it often,” Noah admitted, looking directly into your eyes.

You felt disconcerted. You weren't used to this vulnerable version of Noah, let alone a compliment from him, or the way you felt, unable to arm yourself for a response. You looked away, trying to process what he had said.

“Well, thanks, I guess,” you mumbled, not knowing what to say.

Noah smiled, realizing that he had managed to disarm you. “Who knows, maybe we should try being friends for once?”

You arched an eyebrow, still skeptical. “Friends? I don't know if we're ready for that.”

“Maybe not now, but who knows in the future?” Noah replied, getting up to leave. “Anyway, it was good to see you. Good luck with the new exhibition.”

“Thank you, Noah. Good luck with your presentation,” you replied, watching as Noah left the café.

(...)

In the following days, you tried to concentrate on your work, but the conversation with Noah kept going through your head. He seemed different, more sincere, more vulnerable. It made you uneasy.

On the opening night of the exhibition, you were nervous. The lights in the gallery shone brightly, reflecting the meticulously selected paintings and sculptures. You ran your eyes over everything, as if there were still some detail or other that might have gone unnoticed, in an attempt to suppress your nervousness.

“It's perfect,” Noah's voice sounded next to you, soft and encouraging.

You turned to him, surprised to see him there. “What are you doing here?”

“I came to support you. We're artists, I know how lonely today can be for you. I thought you might need a friend tonight,” he said with a warm smile.

You felt a genuine wave of gratitude at that moment, making you smile back. “Thank you, Noah. It means a lot to me.”

“Can I ask you something?” Noah hesitated, as if choosing every word he was going to say.

“Of course,” you replied, curious.

“Why have you always hated me so much?” The question was direct, but there was a vulnerability in his voice that made you feel your stomach lurch.

You took a deep breath, staring at him. “It was never hate, Noah. I think it was... fear. Fear of how you made me feel. You were always so free, so confident, and I didn't know how to deal with it.”

“Fear?” Noah asked, surprised. “I never wanted to scare you. I always thought you hated me because well... I've always been a jerk to you.”

You laughed softly, despite your serious look. “And you were. But I was also a bit stubborn and proud. The two of us were always competing, always trying to prove I don't know what to I don't know who. Maybe we were actually trying to hide what we really felt.”

“And what did we really feel?” Noah asked in a soft tone, but full of curiosity.

You sighed, your gaze fixed on his eyes. “I think we were afraid of getting hurt. It was easier to fight than to admit that maybe there was something more. Something we didn't know how to deal with.”

“I won't deny it, I always felt there was something more,” Noah admitted. “But I didn't know how to tell you. Every time I tried, we ended up fighting. And then I thought, maybe it's better this way. Less complicated.”

“Less complicated, more painful,” you replied, your voice trembling slightly. “As time went by, I kept thinking about all the things I wish I'd told you, but never did. There was always a barrier between us, something we never knew how to cross.”

Noah took a step closer, gently holding your hand. You didn't remember, but that was probably the first time you touched each other, and it gave you goosebumps. “I always felt that there was something big between us. Maybe it's too late, but I think I'd still like to explore it with you.” 

You felt your heart soar at his words. “Noah, I feel it too. I think I want to stop running away.” 

He smiled, gently pulling you closer. “So, what do you say about starting now? My name is Noah and I sing in a band.” He smiled, holding out his hand to shake yours.

You giggled, feeling your face heat up. You smiled back, your eyes shining with the chance of a new hope, feeling that the truce between you could last forever.

.

Masterlist | Valentine's Day One Shots

.

@lacy1986 @collisionofyourkissmakesitsohard @kenjipepsi1 @chey-h @concretejunglefm @blade-dressed-in-red

Send me an ask to join my taglist

[emotionalhottiee]

Our First Valentines Day

February 13th

As i sat in my living room putting the final touches on the gift basket i put together for Jey. I wanted to do something special for our first valentines together. So i bought him all of his favorite things. Plenty of Waffle House gift cards, some new air force ones, 49er gear and other little trinkets. Now i was just sitting here struggling trying to wrap the plastic around the basket, so i could put the blue bow on top. I went with blue to replicate his signature YEET colors.

After a while of fumbling around, i finally got the plastic around the basket. I added a blue bow for the finishing touch. I hope he likes it, i wanted to show him how much he means to me.

Valentines Day

I was so nervous for today. Jey told me he had something special set up for us. I just want today to be amazing, i wanna make sure Jey knows how much i appreciate him.

I put the final touches on my makeup, and made sure my hair was perfect while waiting for Jey to get here. So we could go out to dinner. The first part of our Valentine’s Day.

A few moments later i heard the door turning, it was Jey using the spare key to my apartment that i had given him. We embraced in a hug with an exchange of kisses. After we finished our canoodling session, I had Jey cover his eyes & wait. So that i could get his gift basket and put it in the trunk of his car, since Jey wanted us to end tonight at his house. He said it was apart of the surprise.

We made it to the restaurant, where he rented out the place so it was literally just the two of us aside from the restaurant staff. It was so beautiful.

We were enjoying our date when Jey spotted the empty piano. He took a seat and began playing “All My Life” by K-Ci & Jojo. I sat in a chair right behind him admiring him. He is literally so talented. I watched in adoration, taken aback by how perfect this man was. My Man. After he finished playing he turned to look at me, i was just grinning from ear to ear. While wiping away the tears that had fallen. Amazed by the man sitting in front of me. My heart was full.

We finished the rest of our dinner, laughing and sharing stares of admiration for one other. As we finished our dinner we, made our way out of the restaurant to Jey’s house. The ride went by so fast, due to us loudly singing our favorites love songs. One of us a bit more off key then the other, but we listen and we don’t judge.

Before i knew it we were back and Jey’s house.

Jey walked over to my side to open the door for me. As soon as i stepped out of the car i instructed him, to go inside and close his eyes. While i got his surprise out of the car he left the door open, standing next to it, with one hand over his eyes. Making sure i made it inside safely. Even without looking, he was protecting me, just another reason why i loved this man.

Once inside he locked his car & the front door. He grabbed my hand leading me further into the house and my jaw dropped when i saw the decorations he had set up for me.

My heart was racing and my eyes filled up with tears as i stood in awe. Seeing the effort Jey put into this, made me love him even more. If that was even possible. I thanked him for the beautiful decorations, and then he bought out the rest of my gifts. And all the gifts were so thoughtful. I finally gave him the gift basket and he was so excited. I was happy that he genuinely loved his gifts.

We held each other exchanging more “I Love You’s” and passionate kisses. This was an amazing first Valentine’s Day together.

I can’t wait to have more with him.

[lady-of-endless]

"Glimpse of us" (Seong Gi-hun x player!reader - season 2)

Summary: There you were, in the middle of the chaos, giving him a glimpse of what you two share.

Author's Note: I know that I promised a part two for the In-ho fic, but Gi-hun has priority. The Mingle game does wonders for fanfic ideas.

(Squid Game masterlist here)

So many people were trapped there willingly or not, so many lives that could be lost and not lived to their fullest. Is money really worth it? He found himself staring each person in the face, wanting nothing more than to shout at them in the moment they all stared in awe at the suspended piggy bank.

You swore that you saw a different man when looking at Gi-hun during the games. There was nothing but pure determination and worry in his eyes when scanning the arena but only you knew him and how broken, tired, but paradoxically insomniac he was in reality. Gi-hun's eyes traveled to you like they always did when everything was too much to bear, and his gaze softened.

He cursed himself countless times for letting you come with him. He wished you'd be helping from the outside, safely, but no matter how far his convincing went you still didn't listen. You faced the horror of the games with him, guilt slowly poisoning Gi-hun day by day, game by game.

How could he let you join? Gi-hun frowned and looked away, fixing his gaze on something else. He knew this would be both complicated and motivating at the same time. Still, for your safety, he kept his distance and told you to do the same. You both decided to keep it all a secret during the games, even from his old friend Jung-Bae. You could vividly remember the last embrace you shared before coming here and it felt like ages ago.

The possible regret of choosing to follow him in these games was unknown to you. Not even now, when you almost felt nauseous just from the mere, slow, spinning of the platform.

They all recognized the game, the Mingle game. The instructions were clear and yet, you could feel your heart slamming against your ribcage bolder than before.

You needed to look at him to keep your ground. Your eyes met again while no one paid attention. Sensing something was wrong, Gi-hun studied your face the way he wanted to and didn't allow himself to. As you touched your chest to feel your heartbeat, his jaw clenched and the tension in his shoulders was immediately visible to you underneath the turquoise tracksuit, all because of his worry. The back of his hand touched your free hand at your side, subtly, hiding it by stepping closer next to you. The fleeting worry of exposure shadowed your anxiety about the game for a moment but he was quick to talk.

"Be careful." He whispered to you while still looking around. "It's the only thing I'm asking for."

You closed your eyes and nodded once. That's what he said to you the last time he held you in his arms before joining this hell. As the song and the platform went on, you let yourself look at Gi-hun and recall the days before. You remembered how he was losing sleep, how desperate he was to hold you, how he tried to convince you to give up coming with him, and how he confessed again and again out of fear of whatever might happen. All of those thoughts paused with the platform's abrupt stop.

Five.

It was the first number announced in the speakers and which unleashed the chaos around you.

You were all six in Gi-hun's team. Gi-hun immediately decided to search for others to pair up with so that the rest of the team could stick together and be safe. He gave a slight nod to everyone, holding your gaze for a moment longer, a subtle signal that he would return safely. With that, he headed off into the crowd, leaving the group temporarily fractured. You shook your head to snap out of it and rushed the team to a room, taking Gi-hun's role in leading them to safety.

You could feel the adrenaline in your blood get out of control with each round completed with or without Gi-hun around. It was too much. The team reunited between rounds in a rush, but the joy of seeing them all alive was always interrupted by the speakers announcing the next number. And the next number was the last one.

Two.

Everyone froze. You looked at Gi-hun but he was already staring back. Without hesitation, he stepped forward.

"I'll go with you," He said firmly, determination etched in every deep line of his face. After making sure that the rest of the team split into pairs too, fast, he grabbed your arm and rushed you to the room before it was too late for both.

He got you in the room first and then him. You immediately leaned against the door, breathing heavily. The adrenaline, your heartbeat, it got worse. Gi-hun's hand reached the door next to your head, to steady himself in front of you, panting too.

"You okay?" Gi-hun asked, his voice quiet yet filled with concern, his eyes studying your face for any reaction. The door locked with a short and distinctive click.

"I'm okay, I'm good." You lied to yourself, nodding, agitated

"Just breathe," he murmured, his voice gentle.

Gi-hun watched as you struggled to regulate your breathing, the rise and fall of your chest rapid, your face flushed. He placed a hand on your chest, feeling the frantic beating of your heart against his palm.

"Slow... Slow, deep breaths," he coached gently, his own voice a little vulnerable because of the proximity between you that was slowly more evident.

As you began to slow your breathing, following his steadying guidance, Gi-hun could feel your heart rate slow, the erratic beats becoming more regular under his touch.

"That's it," he murmured, his hand still resting on your chest, fingers splayed against the fabric of your tracksuit jacket. "Were here together, remember," he said, his voice a hoarse whisper. "We have to keep going." The words were supposed to sound firm and determined, but it all came out hesitantly, weakly.

Gi-hun's mind was a storm of thoughts and feelings. It was too long since you two were close since he touched you since he could feel you. Being so close but so out of reach because of his plan was harder than he expected. He cleared his throat, trying again. "We need to..."

Gi-hun's train of thought was interrupted by the sight of your face. He missed looking at you from this close, feeling your breath on his skin. His eyes were searching for something, anything that could break that tension. All the abstinence, all the longing, and the hiding were making both of you tense and distracted. He could feel it peak now, in the worst moment possible.

"We need to focus," he repeated, but the words felt hollow, the meaning behind them shifting, taking a different turn, a more intimate one. His forehead touched yours.

His eyes suddenly darted to the timer from the wall to the surveillance camera from the corner of the room to the small window from the door that was blocked by your head. There was still time to be spent in that room alone with you. Outside, there was chaos, and he needed a taste of distraction from it all to keep going. The room, the game, the danger, he wanted to forget it all for just a few seconds that were left.

Your face got framed by both of his hands, his fingers lacing through your hair. Before it was too late, his lips found yours in a kiss he missed so much. His touch was gentle yet tense, not knowing what to do first, how much time he had left, wanting to touch you the way he always did before the games. The kiss was a fragile, fleeting thing; the seconds were still ticking, but for him, it all faded in a blur. Gi-hun guided your arms around his neck and sighed into the kiss. Your lips took him back to how much he cares for you and how grateful he is for you. He knew it earlier, from the days spent with you in that motel. You'd always help him with his plans and heart. Gi-hun knew how he was the shell of the simple man he used to be years ago before winning the games, but his heart was still capable of loving with zeal.

His fingers ran down your spine, pushing you against him while his other hand grabbed yours, fingers intertwining. He could lose everything and not care, but not if he were to lose you, the only good thing in his life. The temporary bliss was interrupted by your gasp as the ticking stopped and the door unlocked with a click. You both stepped back hesitantly, both wanting and needing more but the harsh reality of the game and your mission was slipping back into your consciousness. Gi-hun pulled away from you; his breath was uneven, his eyes holding a storm of emotions, and his body felt the absence of your touch.

"The game is over," he murmured, his voice a rough whisper. "We survived another one."

You nodded, catching your breath. His presence calmed you down. You felt a rush of hope when looking into his eyes but you sighed, knowing that it was time to face the other remaining players and hide any form of attachment again. Gi-hun pulled you against him one last time, kissing you again, deeply for a moment before everything. Both of you exchanged one last glance before stepping back in the arena, shielding you.

Searching around for survivors and for his team with a hard expression, Gi-hun's fingertips found his lips in a subtle touch, the heat of your kiss still lingered, giving him another rush of determination to get the whole system of the game down, end it all and leave with you.

[angelltheninth]

Song love confession with hazbin Lucifer?

Giggling while writing this because he has such a GOOD voice.

Pairing: Lucifer Morningstar x Reader

Tags: fluff, love confession, everything goes wrong, singing, goofy Lucifer, Lucifer's wings

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: When he sings I feel my heart stop. But he's also a goof.

Has the perfect confession song planned in his head

Practiced his performance many times, has a whole dance routine planned out, as well as props to go with him

You have heard him mumbling the lyrics of the song, however always denied that this song is one he's trying to learn just for you

When the day of his confession comes Lucifer is really nervous

It's been hundreds of years since he had to confess to anyone, usually it's been other confessing to him and him having to turn them down

Lucifer walks up to you, fully ready to sweep you off your feet

But... why can't he remember any of the lyrics, or how he planned to dance for you, or anything suave

He is sweating buckets

Embarrassed he summons his wings to hide himself, but he only draws your attention more, now being a short, walking cocoon of wings

Nothing could top this embarrassment so he might as well go for it

The words that come out of his mouth aren't the song he practices, but rather the lyrics to one of your favorite songs

He heard you singing it many times, when you thought he wasn't listening

Lucifer sees the big, bright smile on your face and pulls you closer to dance with him, eventually taking you high into the sky, away from the nosy onlookers

There he can tell you the words he's been meaning to say for a while, that he likes you, he wants to date you, and he really, really wants to kiss you

[softlypaintedseafoam]

i'm not a human, i'm a dove

synopsis. a love so tender; a touch so smooth.

pairing. getou suguru x reader

word count. 1k | masterlist

content warning. canon-divergent (suguru is the normal amount of jujutsu crazy), established relationship, vague mentions of past child abuse (nanako & mimiko's past), fluff

reblogs & interactions appreciated.

a gift for my friend @rinsko! title comes i would die 4 u by prince & the revolutions, definitely give it a listen it's a great song and i have been playing it on loop lately. do not be surprised if it makes another cameo as a fic title. this is my first time writing for suguru i think and i hope i did him justice!

It dawns on you that it's been too long since Suguru's last reply. "Are you falling asleep on me?"

Suguru hums in response to your query, clearly enjoying the sensation of your carding your fingers through his hair. The morning is still young; the light of early dawn peeking through the blinds as if to say 'good morning, it's time to wake up!' "I'm awake," he murmurs against your chest, eyes closed and in no rush to greet the day. "I'm just painting a representation of your words in my mind."

Your smile is crooked as you take in his words, "oh really now." Another affirmative hum is his reply and you see the beginnings of a smile forming on his face. "And what kind of painting did you conjure up then?"

You halt your ministrations and Suguru opens one eye comically offended. Who said you could stop, his eyes tell you and you laugh silently before you continue the motion like you never stopped to begin with.

"Something about the girls having a more balanced breakfast," Suguru tells you proper, pleased to feel your touch again. "Don't worry, love, they'll have more than enough protein. I was painting it all clearly. Rice, eggs, fish, maybe some miso on the side…"

"I suppose you were listening," you relent, hugging Suguru closer. He returns the gesture, inhaling your scent. "You spoil them so much that I almost thought you forgot what a balanced breakfast for children was supposed to look like." Sugary cereals and bottle after bottle of syrup are near constants in your household. You giggle at the ticklish sensation of kisses being peppered across your collar bone. "You can't distract me, Suguru."

Brown eyes look at you with unbridled, playful affection, "this isn't a distraction, it's bargaining." It wouldn't be fair to suddenly present the twins with a boring breakfast, he says with dramatic regality. It's too cruel, too unjust. "And I already promised to make them pancakes this morning; you'll make me into a liar if I can't keep it."

Your lips twitch, "a liar, you say?" For someone so serious in your teen years, Suguru has an impeccable flair for theatrics. He'd have made a great actor in stage plays. Unfortunately, your lover is always quick to disagree. Denial, the first step to Acceptance. "That sounds terrible."

"Yes, it would truly be a travesty," Suguru nods, too grave and solemn for the conversation at hand. "And if it takes kissing the most beautiful and marvelous and most fantastical person in the world over and over again to allow me to fulfill that promise, I'll do anything. Anything!"

"Alright, my dear husband. You win," you snort and a warm set of lips are peck yours once, twice, before relenting. "But tomorrow I'm in charge of breakfast. No sugary cereals and no pancakes. They're going to have a healthy and delicious breakfast that isn't going to give them cavities and there won't be any bribes or bargaining."

With you swayed, Suguru gently collapses back into the mattress. Maybe the girls aren't the only ones used to being spoiled. Looking at him be sluggish yet adorable is more than enough to make you want to let him make the girls pancakes for the rest of the month. Maybe even waffles for dinner. "There can be something sweet with it, right?"

"There will be fresh fruits," you recall the blueberries, strawberries and grapes you purchased the other day. Expensive as they were, they better be sweeter than Nanako and Mimiko themselves. "And I can be kind enough to allow a reasonable amount of whipped cream. Remember the emphasis on reasonable."

Maybe there can be small allowance for a slightly more than reasonable amount. You really are one big hypocrite, you softly spurn yourself. The desire to spoil the twins comes too easy. How couldn't you when you knew the sort of lives they'd been living until recently? It was almost like something out of movie ー Suguru coming back to Jujutsu Tech on a dark and stormy night with a haggard appearance and two badly bruised kids with him.

It's one thing to be a sorcerer from a family of non-sorcerers in the big city; the boonies are different entities altogether. There's nothing to protect if there's no knowledge of it to begin with. Another flaw in the secret society sorcerers are forced to embrace; another flaw the nearly broke Suguru entirely.

("I wanted to kill them," Suguru admitted, clutching your shirt, sunken into the cold floor. "I wanted to kill all of them. For a moment I thought we weren't even the same species. This isn't how I used to think," he laughed coldly. "What's wrong with me?"

Suguru's come a long way since then. A long, long way. One day, Satoru and Suguru will pave a way for a generation that are strong enough to handle any mission. You hope you'll pave one where the children can stay far from the battlefield. Perhaps there will be a day your goals converge.)

Now that you're graduates, Nanako and Mimiko are in your personal care. It isn't always easy; the girls have their bad days. You aren't sure they'll be ready to go to a school filled with non-sorcerers after the lives they've led thus far. Still you find silver linings where they're to be found. It's a relief they get along with Tsumiki, though. Step by step, the two of them will get to a point where they can see everyone the way they do Megumi's older sister.

One day, you kiss Suguru's forehead much like one blows the seeds of a dandelion to make a wish. Things can't be fixed overnight but one day. One day is good.

The sound of small feet running down the halls and childish giggles whooping for pancakes lets you both know it's time to leave the warm confines of your blankets. "Time to greet the day," Suguru yawns, making no move to do so.

[flowerchild28]

6th Member part 2

Louis Tomlinson imagine

Warnings: fluff, crush

0.8k

part 1

We arrive at the venue early in the morning, and the contrast between us is almost comical. Zayn is grumpy, clearly not a morning person, while Harry practically bounces with energy, grinning from ear to ear. I, on the other hand, am still half-asleep after dozing off on Niall’s shoulder during the ride over.

Interviews have always been a whirlwind, but something about watching Louis in them always makes me smile. He’s effortlessly charming, tossing jokes left and right, sometimes veering into absolute nonsense just to get a reaction out of the studioer. And, of course, it works every time.

We’re seated in a line, the six of us, ready for another promotional interview. The fans are always excited for these moments, but they have no idea that we actually enjoy them just as much.

The interviewer starts with Niall. “What’s one of your favorite memories from the tour so far?”

“Oh, definitely the time we tried to teach Y/N how to skateboard and she nearly took Liam out,” Niall says, grinning. “I swear, I thought we were gonna have to cancel a show.”

I roll my eyes playfully. “Okay, first of all, that skateboard was possessed. Second, I almost took myself out, too.”

The room laughs, and the interviewer moves on. “Liam, if you could switch talents with any of your bandmates for a day, who would it be?”

Liam thinks for a moment. “Probably Zayn’s drawing skills. I’ve seen his sketches, and they’re unreal.”

“Zayn, what about you?”

“Definitely Y/N’s ability to write lyrics so fast,” Zayn says with a small smirk. “She can come up with a melody in, like, five minutes. It’s a little annoying, actually.”

I grin. “I’ll take that as a compliment.”

The interviewer turns to Louis. “Alright, Louis, you always have the best banter. But what’s something people might not realize about you?”

He leans back in his seat, pretending to think deeply. “Well, obviously, I’m the most responsible member of the band.”

That earns a collective groan from all of us.

“Louis, mate, you literally left your passport in a hotel room last week,” Harry points out.

“Details, details,” Louis says with a wave of his hand, his signature mischievous grin appearing.

I laugh at his antics, watching how effortlessly he controls the mood of the room. His quick wit, his energy—it’s magnetic. There’s something about the way he can make everyone feel at ease that makes me admire him more than I probably should.

The drive to the studio had been nothing short of chaotic. As soon as we stepped outside, Liam had challenged me to a race to the car, and, of course, he won, claiming the passenger seat with a victorious grin. That left Harry, Niall, and Zayn squeezed into the middle row, while Louis lounged comfortably in the back.

Since I lost, I had to squeeze into the backseat next to Louis, which was way too small for the two of us. Our legs kept bumping together, and I was too tired to even complain, eventually resting my head on Niall’s shoulder and dozing off while the boys chatted. Louis had been uncharacteristically quiet during the ride, though I could feel his occasional glances in my direction.

The interviewer finishes up, and soon enough, we’re back in the studio for a quick recording session. Today, we’re working on “Little Black Dress” for the Midnight Memories album.

I slip on my headphones and lean back against the couch, watching as Louis steps up to the mic first. His voice is raspy, effortlessly smooth as he sings the opening lines.

Little black dress just walked into the room…

I tilt my head, listening closely. There’s something about the way he sings it that makes me curious.

Once he’s done, he steps out of the booth, and I give him a knowing look. “Alright, spill. Who’s the song about?”

Louis smirks, grabbing a water bottle before flopping down next to me. “Wouldn’t you like to know?”

I narrow my eyes. “Yes, actually.”

He just shrugs, looking annoyingly smug. “It’s a mystery.”

“Oh, come on, Tommo. You don’t just write about a girl in a little black dress for no reason.”

His blue eyes flicker to mine, and for a second, I swear there’s something in his expression—something teasing but also a little nervous. “Maybe it’s just about a feeling,” he finally says, his voice quieter. “About a moment that sticks with you.”

I study him, trying to figure out if he’s being genuine or just messing with me. But before I can say anything else, Harry jumps in. “Alright, lovebirds, let’s actually get some recording done, yeah?”

I roll my eyes, but my heart is still racing a little.

Maybe it’s nothing. Maybe it’s just Louis being Louis.

Or maybe, just maybe, there’s something more to it.

[damnfeelings09]

VALENTINE'S DAY COUNTDOWN

Guilty as Sin - Leon S. Kennedy

Pairing: Leon S. Kennedy x female readerTags: fluff, comfort, angst, smut, cheating, guilt, forbidden love, first person narrative. Word count: don't know, don't care Prompt: After 7 years of relationship with your partner things start to go down and you feel alone until your new co-worker walks in, restoring your faith in love, making you feel in high school again, but don't forget, you are still in a relationship. Notes: Am I projecting myself in this? Yes, yes I am. Life sucks and “love” has long since ceased to be the answer to why I’m still with my partner. So I wrote this to comfort myself (I don't condone cheating) and, although I've never touched his skin, when I think of one of my fictional loves it feels like cheating is what I do. This promt is written in first person because I feel it connects better with the character that way. Also listen to the song Guilty as sin while you read this and for fucks sake someone bring Leon S. Kennedy to life so he can writte mine in my upper thigh.

How does the dream of your life turn into monotony? At what point does it go from being the thing you loved the most to just another routine? How long does it take for love to die? Does love has an expiration date? Unfortunately, I couldn't answer any of those questions. 7 years of a moderately stable relationship, but the memories and habits we had forged together were no longer enough, not when we slept apart at night, barely spoke to each other during the day and our time together was a maximum of 6hrs each month. It was over once, 3 months apart, my shoulders had never felt so... light? As if the weight I was carrying was melting away. 3 months in which I hadn't cried (for having carried the grief within the relationship). No one understood why we had returned. When my friends asked why, I couldn’t give em an answer, I guess part of me thought I could cure him? Save him? change him? When the reality was that he was taking me overboard with him. It hadn't all been bad, in the beginning life seemed like a sweet melody of love, our steps following the same rhythm, the same path. As time went by, the melody became sad, stormy, my steps were no longer coordinated and it seemed that he was tired of dancing with me.

I didn't mean for things to end this way, but Leon was so kind, so sweet, so handsome, looking at me like I was the best thing at the party, it had been so long since anyone had looked at me like that, as if he really saw me. His woodsy scent impregnated in the jacket draped over my shoulders as we walked back to his car, his hand holding my waist and the other on my heart. I didn't intend to go that far, but his lips were so soft, his kisses full of love and desire for me, I couldn't remember the last time I had been kissed that way. I told myself it would be the only time, but I had never been good at lying. Emotional deception is the worst kind of cheating but I couldn't stop, his laughter, his smile, every word that came out of his mouth, it was as if velvet was pouring out of his voice, wrapping me in a soft blanket that covered my aching heart, healing it. I was so lonely and he was so so willing to listen to me. And I noticed it, I noticed it every day when I was excited to receive his message wishing me good morning, I noticed it in the butterflies in my stomach when I found flowers from him on my desk, I noticed it when my heart was beating like crazy having him near, when he would take my cheek and hold his touch for a few seconds too long just to be “friendly”. It had become a necessity for me, looking for him in every hallway, making time just to find him when I went up the elevator, working overtime to get out at the same time. My heart fisically ached being away from him.

Every night the cold of my bed brought my imagination back to him, his hands, his touch, his kisses as he praised my body, cherising every part of it as if I were his only source of light. His mouth inside my folds, sucking the life out of me like a starving man, his moans and mine creating a melody so hot I could cum just remembering it. My hand circled around my swollen clit, while with the other I held tightly to the sheets of my bed. I remembered his strokes working their way inside me, filling me until I was so cockdrunk for him, each onslaught sending more waves of pleasure, building up in my lower belly as my tits bounced up and down.

“Fuck, baby, you're so tight,” he picked up the pace making me moan his name so loudly that everyone in his building would gasp at the pleasure he was giving me. “Shit... I'm going to cum, where...?”

“Inside... fill me up please” my orgasm taking over me, my walls closing around him trapping him inside me as his seed filled me completely. I could feel him slipping between my legs mixing with my own juices. After the pleasure he kept me close to him, holding me in his arms caressing my hair murmuring sweet nothings in my ears.

“I'm so screwed” I heard him say. I tried to hold still, controlling my breathing so he wouldn't notice I was still awake. I felt his hand caress my upper thigh in the same place where he had left a hickey as if reclaiming me as his. A purplish red mark with a clear message, mine “I won't be able to stay away from you now”.

That night not only I slept with him, but I gave him my heart, being there in his strong arms, lulled to sleep by his heartbeat, so close to him, as if he was afraid I was going to disappear.

I had run away from him before the sun rose. My heart yearning for his love once again, my body missing his touch. But it was wrong. What I was doing was wrong but I couldn't stop, I didn't want to stop. When I closed my eyes I found his face, when I was in the stores I saw his silhouette everywhere, in every couple I saw I saw us, at least what could be.

I had a drawer with my partner's clothes at home, but I pretended I was alone because if he didn't know then I wouldn't hurt him. It was partly my fault that everything went to shit, but after years of giving my best and only getting crumbs my heart had grown tired.

______________________________________

2 days after giving my everything to him, Leon called me in for a meeting.

“Mr. Kennedy... Leon” his name escaping my lips as if it were a promise between the two of us. Every time he called me into his office to discuss something I found myself getting excited like a teenager with her first crush.

“You know I don't like you calling me Mr. Kennedy” his smile was big, showing me his shiny white teeth "We are...friends” but the glint in his eyes gave away his true intentions. Before him my days were gray and now, every time I saw him the sky turned the perfect blue of his eyes, invading me, sweeping away all thoughts of sadness leaving just him. I was a drifting ship and he was the sweet land calling me. “Penny for your thoughts?” He said, noticing I was distracted.

“I'm just... exhausted.”

“About?”

“Life I guess”

“Is there anything I can do to help?” He’s concern seemed genuine. Oh handsome, don't make me love you even more

“You don't want to hear me rant about my life, believe me” I said shaking my head.

“I do if it helps you” his look, so worried and his frown was too adorable for his own good.

“My relationship is going downhill and I can't take it anymore, I don't even remember why I wanted to be with him. I tried my best to make him happy and supported him in everything, but I lost myself in the process and I can't seem to find myself.” I turn to look at him, his bright blue eyes dismayed “But it scares me so much because he's all I've ever known, he was my first everything, what if I'm not enough for someone else? What if no one else loves me?”

He wipes a silent tear from my left cheek and caresses it “Anyone would be happy to have you. And if that bastard can't see how lucky he is then fuck him. Love should make you feel happy and anxious in a nice way, you're supposed to want to be with that person 24/7 even if it gets on your nerves. Your love should be celebrated not tolerated. If he were me, I would do anything to keep you by my side.”

“Leon...”

“It's true and I know it's the worst timing but I...I can't stand to see you like this because of that jerk when I'm here. I know you think it was a mistake but gods to me it was everything, you are everything. I want to make things right with you, I want you and I'm dying to have you in my arms again” I hadn't noticed how close he was to me, trapping me between his bookshelf and his body. His lips dangerously close, the butterflies, the nerves taking over me, every fiber of my body claiming his warmth, needing his touch. The small conscious part of my brain tried to hold back but as Leon closed the space between us bringing our lips together, emotions overflowed me, throwing my arms around his neck, I let go. Allowing him to deepen the kiss as he pulled me closer to his body, his tongue asking permission to explore my mouth, the minty taste lingering on his tongue as he kissed me. It wasn't like any kiss I'd ever had, not because I had a lot of experience, I'd actually only kissed two people (him and my partner) but kissing my almost ex definitely didn't feel like this. Leon kissed with passion, the need for me written on every part of his mouth, his lips soft and warm in comparison to his rough kisses as if a primal instinct took over him. He held me tight, arching my back molding every soft curve of my body to his perfectly formed one, as if we were made to be one.

There is a Greek myth. Humans used to have 2 faces, 4 arms and 4 legs, they were a whole. 2 entities in one, but the gods decided they were too dangerous that way, so they separated them, making them weak, broken, and left them to wander the earth in search of their other half. I never wondered if the person next to me was my other half, but here and now, I was sure that Leon was my other half.

And I'd gladly pledge guilty as sin if with that I can have him by my side.

[dawnoftime22]

tent.

| T.S

INTHAF series, Chapter 1

Warnings: None!

Summary: With the thought of being away from Taylor for such a long time, you finally decided to call her up, and with the idea of spending your time in a recently built tent — inside your house…

Word Count: 2.1k

Category: Fluff!

A/N: so...who could write a short series on a song that barely has lines? me. yes. don't expect much, but this is all FLUFF <333 enjoy!!!

P.S, this is a series that was originally from 2023 but never got worked on :] i won't mind if anyone will like it or not, I'm just really proud of it and actually finishing it, but love you all, hope you enjoy anyways<3

| Started on 26/11/2023, 8:33 AM |

| Finished on 29/12/2023, 11:13 PM |

Main Masterlist | T.S Masterlist

INTHAF Masterlist

"It's nice to have a friend."

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

It was quiet as you were sat on your bed, relishing in the feeling of a peaceful atmosphere. The windows emitted daylight from outside, and the sheets of your bed kept you warm despite the cool air.

Currently, you were free to do whatever you wanted, having no plans for your day to do.

...Or, well, you had no other plans that could get in the way of your one singular plan for today. It was very important to you.

Taylor, your best friend since high school, has been busy in her music business, and you've been thinking of a way to spend time together once she gets a big break from her work. A tent was casually sitting in your living room as your finger lingered on her contact name. Oh. Yes. The living room— only in reason due to all the rain thats been outside.

Your thumb taps on the name eventually, and the screen changes to a calling one, a rhythmic tone sounding out from the phone. You put it against your ear, awaiting for the beeping to stop and a familiar voice to come through.

"Y/N!! Hi!!" Her voice comes out softly. From all the time you've spent away from each other, your mind plagued with worry, but the softness of her tone calmed it right down.

"Hey, Tay," You respond right back, her name coming from your mouth just as gently. A smile rose on your face, and she could hear it in your voice.

"We haven't talked in a while. What's up?" As you listened, her voice sounded happy, or excited. There was no background noise at all, and it didn't seem like she was stressed. At least relief flowed through you, with the hopes that you caught her at a good time.

But in her side, her face and day had brightened up the second she saw your name pop up on her phone screen, and now she was fidgeting with her necklace as she waited for your response.

You took a breath in. "Nothing, really, I just thought...are you busy at all today?" You were about to mention the plan of hanging out right away, but since she's been so busy, you didn't want any expectations of either of you being disappointed, so you asked her first.

You hear her hum through the phone, like the gentle melody of her songs as you waited. "No, I'm free all day," she said softly. With a soft sigh, you let yourself lay down comfortably on your bed, knowing that if you stood up, it would only make you pace the room as you talked.

You pressed your phone against your ear, making sure your grip wasn't too loose. "Wanna have a sleepover or something?" a pause went by, but then you simply blurted it out. "I have a tent in my living room."

A moment of silence went by. You could almost imagine her expressions. "What? What led you to doing that?" Her surprise was present in her voice, a soft laugh echoing over the call, and you giggled yourself.

"Well, I was thinking of going camping with you but...since you've been busy lately, I thought we could do a short and easy way to feel like we're camping without having to." You explained, trying to give her reasons to come over.

Another silence goes by as she processes your words. Either that, or her brain may have short-circuited. You thought the first one, because your own brain might be dealing with the latter. "It's also just been very rainy, and who doesn't like feeling like a child again, sleeping in tents?" you add in, although a slight grimace rises on your face at even the thought of a tent sitting casually indoors rather than outdoors.

"You...are so random sometimes." She breathes out a laugh, then goes quiet. You hear a small meow coming from the background, and it was obvious her attention had gotten distracted by a certain cat.

"And...?" You added, having not gotten an answer to your question yet, and your fingers brushed over your bedsheets to find something to soothe your own heart.

"Yeah, sounds like fun!" She says, her voice going up a bit at the end of her sentence, saying it with full honesty and excitement, while another meow sounds out again.

"Who is that in the background?" You asked with curiosity, the noise being adorably small like a kitten.

"That's Benjamin. He jumped on the piano keys." You hear some distant sounds of the piano keys being played, presumably, his paws hitting them as he walked.

Taylor had picked up your call while at the piano, that's for sure. You caught her in the middle of a practice or songwriting session.

Then you blinked after process of realizing she stopped playing to pick up your call, but another thought went by of this new cute friend.

"You got a new cat while you were gone?!" She hears your gasp through the phone, and breathes out a chuckle. "He sounds so cute and small..." you murmur, a smile upon your face. Some shuffling came through before she spoke up again.

"Yeah!! I saw him while filming a music video, so I thought why not..." she says, keeping watch on the small little kitten walking on the keys. You couldn't wipe the smile off your face, and you shook your head. She could have 50 or more kittens if she wanted to, and in another universe, she probably did have that many.

"So, your place, I'll be there in 20 minutes?" Taylor asked. Since you two were close, she had once focused to getting a house near yours, just so you could go to each other's places easily.

"Yeah! I'll see you later, then." You said, sitting up. She could hear the movement, but couldn't see them since you were on a voice call, and you could hear her keys jingling in the meanwhile, a small laugh going by. "Okay, see you."

"See you- And don't forget snacks! Specifically marshmallows!!" You manage to get your words out as you giggled. You already had your snacks ready, all you had to do was just put biscuits and chocolate, or put the marshmallows over a fire. Or well, in this situation, your stove.

"Okay, okay. Bye, now!" She said, almost urgently, and you had to stop yourself from questioning on if she had things to finish up first, or if she was excited. On the other side, she was first petting Benjamin's soft fur, smiling.

"Bye!" The end call tone sounded out, and you pulled your phone away with a smile as you laid back to your bed, content with the conversation you had.

A sigh leaves your lips. It had been so long, but the time went by like the ceiling fan spinning from your ceiling, fast and full of bustling wind. There was nothing else to do but wait.

You turned on your side, then got up, (although regretting it and cursing yourself for how fast you went), you decided against continuing your comfortable position on the bed, for the risk of being too comfortable, or sleep creeping in to the corners of your mind.

Your legs led you off to your already open door and to the living room, where the lights were dimly lit with an orange color, and the curtains were closed, leaving a cozy atmosphere in the room.

The kitchen was your target. There, the snacks were already sitting beside a backpack upon the kitchen counter. Opting for an easier way rather than getting them all in the tent later with your hands full, you instead pick them up and place them all in the bag.

There were books in the tent too, ready to read with a small reading lamp. After gracefully setting down the bag, you went back out and laid down on the couch, not wanting to get bored of the small space while waiting for Taylor.

You fiddled with the couch's material, fingers brushing against it before a sigh escapes. Your phone was an option for distraction, sitting face down off in the corner of your vision, but you had already spent far too much time on it when you were trying to decide on calling Taylor or not.

You grabbed a book instead, going to get youreelf lost in a world of fantasy to pass the time. It was only you inside the house, but for now, you focused on Taylor's arrival that will soon come.

|——————————— ⸆⸉ ———————————|

Once 20 minutes or so passes by, you soon hear the doorbell echoing through the front door. You nearly jump from the couch in eagerness, the ceiling having turned to be entirely the most dull thing you've stared at your whole life.

Walking to the door, the air was cold from the rain that had started dropping down just a bit ago. Your hands go to the doorknob, and when you get it open; behind it, reveals the blonde standing with a gentle look on her face, her eyes brightening at the sight of you.

"Hi. I brought Benjamin." She smiles, turning her body slightly to show you the small black, brown-ish eared kitten. You giggle, loving how she sometimes brought along one of her cats, although this was a new addition.

"He's very welcome to join," you say, noticing how the sky behind her had gone dark. Not only from the rain, but the sun having gone down. You didn't even realize the time was evening when you called her.

You move to stand aside, letting her enter your home just as she used to so many times before. She quickly notices the tent sitting in your living room, and her eyes were set on it. The warm atmosphere wrapped her in a comfortable feeling.

"You really did go all out," she says softly, but giggled, stepping in and admiring every aspect of your living room, and the way the tent actually seemed quite comfy.

"Anyway, great news that he's welcome, because he's been wanting to meet you." You could see the kitten stare up at you from the peekhole of the bag. She takes off her shoes, leaving them on the shoe rack before turning to you.

"Meet me?" You ask, slightly confused, walking towards the tent with her following off with you after she was done.

"Okay, this sounds silly, but he's seen pictures of you on my phone, and I kid you not, gotten my attention with meows and paws on the screen multiple times!" This time, a bright laugh comes from your lips, making the corners of hers, turn up softly. The two of you manage to arrive at the tent, it safely (and nearly silly looking) sitting at the living room.

You had prepared by leaving the zip closed before, so when you arrived, you take a glance at her with a corner of your lip going up. She looked at you with raised eyebrows, but also an amused smile. Your hands go to open it, a smooth sound coming from the zipper until it fully opened, and the sheet flopped down to reveal the inside.

You crouch to go into the tent, settling down at your own spot as you watch her get in too, her face awestruck. Inside, was a small camping lamp you had bought a few days ago, and a projector that shoots up a picture of the night sky up the ceiling of the tent, leaving it glimmering with stars.

"I can't believe you did all this." She breathed out, sitting down next to you as she stared up at the scenery above her. She shook her head, a growing smile on her face when she glanced at you.

She took off her cat backpack and opened the zipper, Benjamin jumping right out and beginning his new curious adventure of inspecting everything in the tent, including you.

"Aw, he's so tiny." You watched the kitten's paws pad around before their directions turned to you, and its beautiful blue eyes shined your way. It certainly reminded you of a certain someone, that's for sure.

Your hand reaches out, and Benjamin lightly sniffs your hand before walking in, making your hand touch his head. Your face melted into pure adoration completely when you felt his soft fur.

You continue petting him, ending up entirely with him in your hands, while Taylor was watching the interaction gently. Her eyes held a somewhat calm, loving look in them. You didn't see, because you were too caught up in the new friend you had gotten.

You held Benjamin in your lap before going to grab something in your bag at the side of the tent. Both the kitten and Taylor had looked, practically sharing the same face as your hands searched. Eventually, your hand got back out with two vars of chocolate.

Taylor let out a small "ooh!" when you set it down in between the two of you, her eyes tracing every movement of the sweet treat, realizing what the marshmallows was for.

She reaches back to the cat backpack, opening another zipper to the further back, and brought out her own treats; the bag of marshmallows you asked for. "Got the marshmallows." Her hands gently open the pack and grabs one...(four) and eats it, her face brightening at the delicious taste.

You smile at her, grabbing one for yourself and opening the chocolate bar, too, setting hers beside her. If anyone saw you, they would've thought they were seeing kids hanging out. But, who cares? The treats were quite delicious, after all.

As you were unwrapping the chocolate, she had popped the other marshmallows in her hand, off into her mouth, and now was grabbing Benjamin off your lap, holding the purring kitten close to her chest to pet him.

She waits until she's swallowed the food in her mouth to lay down on the floor, placing Benjamin on her stomach. As the relaxation started to sink in, he had his eyes closed, curled up comfortably. The warmth of everything was making up the most coziest atmosphere.

Her eyes searched the ceiling with the made up stars, as if looking for a type of constellation. You didn't even know if this projection had the actual night sky, but it would be impressive if it did.

You bit into your chocolate, letting it melt in your mouth as you looked at her every movement. The soft skin of your hands brushed against each other ever so slightly when you moved to lay down fully, letting your head rest against the floor.

A crinkle sounds out as she cracked open the chocolate pack too, casually eating it with the marshmallows— a sweet chaotic taste that can either be teeth rotting or delicious in your mouth. Probably both. The least is, you both will remember to brush your teeth very thoroughly later on, and drink some water.

You both watched the beautiful stars with a comforting silence that came over the moment, all of everything, finally, seeming to slow down for just a minute. Maybe an hour. Her guard was lowering down, and you could slowly see the work starting to get taken off her shoulders.

You soon moved to prop yourself up into a sitting position, looking over to your side once more. It didn't take much for Taylor to notice, and she turns her head to look at you, her eyes curious on what you were doing.

You grab a piece of a post-it note from the small pile of items, along with a pen that sat next to it, writing down something without letting her look. She smiles, her mind wanting her to move to see, but she waited patiently for you.

You lay back down, the paper with ink handwritten on it in your hand. Slowly, you put it on her lower stomach, right below where a sleeping Benjamin sat, as if she didn't just watch you do the entire thing.

She tries her best not to smile and instead put on a curious face, her hand going to delicately grab it. She holds it up to the ceiling, since she was laid down, and read the words. It was, 'I miss you :(', and her insides filled with warmth. The blonde looks to you, who's been waiting in anticipation.

"I'm right beside you!" She exclaims playfully, laughing. But in her heart, she knows what you're trying to point to is that she was missed by you, so very dearly in the time of her absence.

Her teeth caught her bottom lip, but the corners of her mouth was raised up in a smile. "I missed you, too." she says, her voice being so soft.

You didn't see it, but she had slipped the note into the pocket of her sweater...for safekeeping.

end of chapter 1. <3

INTHAF Masterlist

----------------------

taglist <3 - join here! :]

@dmenby3100 @tia-thesimp @marvelwomen-simp @escapereality4music @fawnedolly @riaras-everthroner @lovelyy-moonlight @stevecore @midastouch013 @liloandstitchstan @maleahoswick @raven-ss @deadlymistletoe @bambisfawns @littlemissdelrey @natsxwife @orange15quote @bleachxbunny @hushwhennooneisaround @samsgf22 @gay4hotmilfs

[laertesthelocalstranger]

Okay I can do that.

There…there once was a musician who walked around the world, playing his songs. The cords he struck were like lightning, and the crackle that started when his fingers got moving, he didn’t even need an amp. It was just him and his bass, and he was fine with that. Every night was another city, another story, another place to get thrown out of with a smile on his face.

But he wasn’t as alone as he thought. He had an admirer, a girl who listened with wondering eyes and an impressionable soul. She followed him from venue to venue, pressing as close to the stage as she could get, lining her fingers up against the pedestal she put him on and drinking in his face like moonlight.

The musician never recognized her. He played for his music, and not any other thing. One day, she made a move on him, and they were together for a short while- but he was gone by morning, leaving her to hurry fast if she wanted to catch his next show.

She was lonely, and desperate, but she knew she couldn’t have him. So she sat by the back of the pub, theater, or crowded street, despondent and sad, collecting his notes in a little jar. It was a sweet music box, comforting to hear, and she held them close to her ear each night as she slept and listened with near-happiness to the way they bounced off each other.

But it wasn’t enough. The echoes were too quiet, so she had to snatch them up faster, after a measure had passes, maybe, then faster still, after two beats. Soon, she was next to the stage again, stealing the sound from right off his fingers and watching them pool into her jar like honey with greedy eyes. The crackle slipped from his hands with his music, and soon, the musician was lifeless on the floor, a symphony of his voice and beauty echoing from the woman’s jar.

Horrified, the admirer did whatever she could to wake him, shaking and shaking and shaking til her arms near gave out. But that wasn’t enough. With a fear unlike any she’d ever known, she breathed the soul that was already his into the jar, and pressed it to her broken love’s lips. He drank of it like it was made of milk and nectar, until his eyes were shining with electricity and his notes bounced through his veins themselves. He drank, and the woman grew weaker, and weaker, and weaker, finally vanishing altogether.

And what did the man do? He got up, and he kept on playing. He was a man made of music, and he had another story to tell.

I want her back so bad. I'm going to do something drastic. again

[artsyaprilmr]

A Rose and a Nightingale

[kissingarthurclaus]

Uhm uh uh...I have no excuse for this 😔 PPG self insert who is secretly an alien! I imagine her intro episode would have her having a little romance with the professor when he comes into a bookstore she works at/owns and the girls being (rightfully, given the prof's dating history) suspicious of her. Wacky capers ensue where they try to prove that she's up to no good, only to find that she genuinely is just chilling and wants to live a normal life on earth!

Well, normal as she can, now that she knows this family! I think she'd fit right in 😉

Taglist♡: @crushes-georg @changeling-selfship @me-myself-and-my-fos @tiny-cloud-of-flowers @sunstar-of-the-north @dearly-beeloved @adoredbyalatus @squips-ship @cherry-bomb-ships @miutonium

[cent-scratchnsniff]

green apple flavor

[pizzaqueen]

464 words of pre-slash pining fluff for day one of @steddie-week / rated G or T

It’s not as tight a fit in the listening booth as Eddie hoped it would be, but it does get him closer to Steve than he’s been all day. (Well, except for when he draped himself all over Steve at their table in the food court, or when they were pressed close in the photo booth, Eddie goading Steve into making goofy faces, or when their knees were resting together at the movies earlier.)

But they’re in their own bubble here. The rest of the world completely shut out. Just the two of them, one set of headphones, and a song shared between them.

Eddie has the album at home, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Steve knows that, but he didn’t resist when Eddie dragged him in here with one hand curled around Steve’s wrist, the other clutching the album they’re listening to now.

The song is so familiar and it fades to the background as Eddie watches Steve sidelong; the drums keep time with the beat of his heart, the howling guitar could be the singing in his blood. He catches Steve looking at him, once, twice, three times, his pulse skipping whenever their gazes lock.

This is almost everything Eddie wants. Listening to music with Steve, forgetting about the world beyond the song and the space between them. It would be perfect if he was sure that Steve’s heart is beating as hard as his, that his skin tingles at the nearness of Eddie, the way Eddie’s skin is tingling, now, being so close to Steve. The way his stomach swoops, and his chest feels full to bursting, how he’s every single fucking hopelessly in love cliche whenever they’re together, and even more when they’re not.

But he doesn’t know. He has no fucking clue. Sometimes, maybe, he thinks—hopes—but how can he be sure? He’s out of his depths here. It drives him crazy but, fuck, in moments like this he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Steve shifts, their hips bumping together, the brush of his arm against Eddie’s sending electricity through him. It draws Steve closer and he doesn’t move away, so they listen to the rest of the song pressed close, like the booth is half the size.

“So”—Eddie pulls his side of the headphones away from his ear when the song ends—“what did you think?” He bites his lip, kicks Steve’s foot.

“I think I liked it.” Steve’s gaze flicks outside the booth, then fixes back on Eddie. His eyes twinkle, warm and dark, and he turns so he’s facing Eddie fully. He licks his lips and leans in, saying, “But maybe we could listen to it again?”

“Yeah,” Eddie says, a smile forming, “maybe we could,” and he starts the song over.

[fridayiminlovemp3]

i’m so serious i need these lyrics tattooed on the inside of my eyelids