#and then spent the month searching for the perfect fic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

chocosvt · 4 months ago

Text

HER | part five.

✧✎ synopsis: wonwoo, a heartbroken and burnt out writer nearing the end of his math degree, wants nothing to do with the seemingly perfect, intimidating girl who has everyone under her thumb. you. unfortunately, his literary talent has got him shoved him between a rock and a hard place when you want to write a book and require his expertise. you two are the furthest from compatible. wonwoo can’t see this going well. at all.

pairing: wonwoo x fem!reader word count: 23.8k genres/tropes: writer!wonwoo, university!au, plug!vernon + boyfriend!mingyu as prominent side characters, SLOWBURN (i am not fucking around this is my slowest burn yet), relationship drama, soul searching, strong angst/hurt (i’m coming for the jugular), comfort, romance, smut, a smoothie of every emotion on earth.

(!) warnings: drug use (weed, cocaine, ecstasy), wonwoo has anxiety + anxiety attacks + fairly dark thoughts, prescribed medication, gambling, intense language, infidelity, throwing up.

✧✎ a/n: just some quick things i want to make apparent!

the fic is told from wonwoo’s pov, not the reader’s!

all major timeline events are organized through chronological dates

any smut or potentially triggering scenes are NOT MARKED bc the content is already quite mature, so just plz be aware of that!

bolded and italicized text implies the characters are conversing in korean, tho it doesn’t happen often!

the fic in its entirety is 140k, so it has been split into 6 parts.

posting a bit earlier tn since i've got work tmo morning! i can't believe there is only one part left after this one!! :o

last chapter was angst up to the eyeballs so hopefully this one mends some of that heartache <3 still, much has yet to happen! this chapter contains one of my fave scenes teehee.

⇢ part one | part two | part three | part four | part six ⇢ soundtrack for those curious! ⇢ read at ur own pace! :)

—AUGUST 3RD.

The last time Wonwoo had been at your apartment to help you write, it was around the evening, into supper. He remembered the scent from the three-wick candles lit up in the kitchen—bonfire and vanilla—which you insisted was a necessity because it was the perfect way to relax your tense mind. Deciding not to cook, you had ordered Chinese takeout instead, and the entirety of the evening was spent sitting criss-cross on the comfortable rug splayed across the living room floor, indulging in warm food, writing, and letting the TV flick through a random season of your favourite drama show.

It was perfect.

Even now, as he sat on the bench across the street from your apartment complex, Wonwoo could still recall all the infinitesimal details—the fried crunch to every vegetable-filled spring roll, how the candles softly crackled when you blew them out at the end of the night, your small and very sleepy voice bidding him goodbye as you walked Wonwoo downstairs into the lobby—each memory sprung alive with such vividness. Wonwoo wished he could be poised outside your apartment knowing everything was the same; undamaged and intact. But that was an outcome too blissful for reality to maintain.

You had a specific nightly routine, particularly on Thursdays, after work: showering, followed by having a quickly thrown together dinner, applying a face mask, and then a movie before bed. He found himself memorizing a lot of your patterns over the months.

Wonwoo hadn’t texted you—he was doing this completely unprompted, without an inkling of his arrival. Maybe that was a terrible idea which should be discarded for something gentler and less likely to explode in his face, but that would only lead to more ruminating and more ruminating meant less doing.

The thing was, it was nearing eight o’clock. Wonwoo had been sitting on the bench for almost a half hour while the sun gradually sank, watching the occasional green leaf flutter down from the chestnut oaks adorning and shading the parkway behind him. The longer he waited, the further the shadows of the trees stretched, until he was completely engulfed and framed alone underneath their dark, cool silhouettes. Light still spilled across the street, igniting the space where everyone else was strolling, each person steadfast in their pace to be somewhere that wasn’t a sunset orange city street.

Breathing out slowly, Wonwoo glanced down at his hands.

It was like the first time he met you.

Just suck it up. Go do it.

He walked between the trimmed hedges that led to the complex door. The lobby area was exactly as he remembered it, though Wonwoo had come to learn those little complimentary desserts and cucumber waters set out the first day he visited you were no longer a thing, which you had vehemently complained to him about during a brief promenade through the park—another one of your palate cleansing ideas.

“Oh! Those pastries, by the way—they stopped doing them! I heard about it from my neighbour when I went down to get the mail. I was pissed, pissed, pissed! Apparently, there’s a lady who made them specifically for our complex because her grandson lived there. Well, he’s moved out now, so we all got fucked! If I don’t get my cute little lemon square with the raspberry on top and the powdered confectionary sugar all placed in a decorative doily, I will legit kill myself. Something has to be done… hey—can you bake, at all?”

Hence your immeasurable disappointment when Wonwoo revealed to you that he wasn’t notably talented at baking. Still, the incident provoked him to spend at least an hour a night researching different recipes for lemon squares that he could manage to pull off if given enough time and a handful of supplemental trial and error.

Wonwoo pushed the button to the elevator.

The heartbeat heavied in his chest while waiting for the doors to pull apart, the anticipation and nervousness coming down hard like thick snow flurries. A commercial ding at last echoed throughout the vacant lobby. Wonwoo immediately stepped into the small, confined space, feeling his breaths begin to drag, becoming almost audible in his desire for more oxygen.

Without a doubt, this was probably the hardest thing Wonwoo had ever done in his life. Even moving away from the comfortability and closeness of his family in Changwon—no matter their disagreements or quarrels—couldn’t compare to the emotion so palpably tugging within him akin to an ocean tide under a full moon.

He felt every twinge, but he was still doing well to maintain his composure, though Wonwoo couldn’t help himself from fearing that the control might leave him in the cold wind of seeing you again.

To look into your eyes could feel quite dissecting and Wonwoo didn’t know if he was yet strong enough to stomach the scrutinization despite how warranted it was. The best he could do was to expect nothing—this wasn’t about gaining closure, or basking in the liberation from righting a wrong—it was about the effort of accepting a profoundly hurtful problem he caused. You were hit front and centre by the shrapnel and you deserved to hear acknowledgement.

At the moment of reaching your floor, he didn't knock straight away.

Wonwoo stood outside the unit for a moment, removing his glasses and pulling at the sleeve to his large black hoodie, massaging away a smudge from the lens. After fitting the frames back to his face, he knocked. Each breath was fluttery. He tried so damn hard to soothe himself because life was unfortunately not a loop of constant aid and permanent reassurance and sometimes there was no other option but to be discomforted. At least he had his own company.

There was no movement from behind the door.

Swallowing very dryly, Wonwoo knocked again.

Nerves twisted in his stomach and turned his complexion pallid, though it was just on the edge of manageable and Wonwoo would have otherwise been quite proud if not for the lock suddenly clicking and the gentle, slow twisting of the doorknob. His fist clenched, the blunt nail on his index finger picking at his scarred cuticle.

Even when he saw you—Her—for the first time in over a month, accompanying the liminal doorway, staring back at him with an expression that he could use an entire pencil detailing, Wonwoo was able to sustain his control. Still, his heart was fucking racing.

Your eyes were wide, glassy, though somewhat veiled by the dip in your brows that began to gradually furl deeper in their recognition of his presence. He felt his stomach drop faster than lightspeed when a frown twitched into your lips, distorting the surprise in your face to anger, while the fingers at your leg curled into a rigid fist. There was a dewiness to your bare cheeks and a sweetened aroma from your skin that suggested you had gotten out from the shower not too long ago.

Wonwoo relaxed his hands.

“Hey.”

Expectantly, you said nothing.

There was a rolling, emotional sea unabashed to your face, continuously morphing between every shade of wrath within the sticky silence. Wonwoo worried you might slam the door shut.

He needed to say something fast.

“I know what you want to do—you want to close me out. I get that. I can see it all over your body. And, believe me, I understand.”

Your hand grabbed the edge of the door. That initial glassiness in your eyes only grew glimmerier; the frown tacked onto your mouth somehow threaded with even more fulgurant rage. He could see that you were going to snuff him into nothing, like grabbing onto a candle wick with your fingers despite the hot wax and flame.

But it couldn’t end so abruptly.

Wonwoo held up his hands, baring his palms in defense.

“Just—okay. Her, I hurt you. Hurt is even too weak of a word to use. I know that. I promise I do. I know what I did… and… and I know that I must have some fucking gal to come here unannounced after everything I said, but I've got an explanation. I swear.”

There was notable uplift in his chest, watching your grip loosen on the door, fall down to the handle, losing the hostility. Wonwoo paused to catch his breath, ensuring his eyes never wavered.

“And… if you decide to listen to me… and you still really don’t want me in your life… I-I can respect that. If all you want is for me to disappear and never bother you again… I can respect that…” he felt sick just voicing it, like he could faint at the prospect. “It might be such a stupid fucking thing for me to say, considering how I treated you, but I genuinely want to do whatever will make you happiest.”

Was it good enough? Feasible, even marginally?

Wonwoo didn’t know. He could only stand in place and study the metamorphosis of your face—from deep-seeded anger, to something pained and unintelligible, and now, contemplation. The inner monologue in your head was probably running on overdrive.

Your fingernails carved into the door.

He kept quiet, waiting, until you quickly wiped something from your cheek and swallowed the lump in your throat.

“… Fine,” you uttered in a raspy, weak tone.

Relief struck him like a breeze during a heatwave.

“Thank yo—”

“But if I say I want you to leave, then you will leave, and you will not say one word on your way out my door or spare me one glance, even if it’s from the corner of your fucking eye.”

Wonwoo was staring straight into your gaze, then shifting to the pointed finger sticking in his face. You were deadly serious.

He nodded.

Finally, however, you stepped aside to let him in.

Wonwoo didn’t know if he should sit or stand. If he should grab a stool at the marbled kitchen island or come to fit himself at the edge of the cream sofa. The interior was pretty much identical to his previous visit, though he realized that a few potted plants you once kept by the elegant floor-length windows were missing—he’d assumed they’d died—it was probably somehow his fault.

“Um, where should we—where do you want to—”

“Kitchen.”

With your arms folded stiff, you walked behind the island.

He stood on the opposite side, knowing it was likely not a coincidence that you opted to put a barrier between yourselves.

It was a foolish idea and he would certainly not extrapolate, but Wonwoo wanted to ask about you. He wanted to know how your work was going at the beauty salon, if you had any more obnoxious dinner parties with your parents—were you still writing? To even look at you from across the hard countertop, captured in the quiet dimness of your kitchen, with your soft and bare face and those cute silk pyjamas, was enough to stop his heart if he allowed it.

Wonwoo pushed up his glasses, sighing.

“Before I explain anything… I just want to say—”

“I don’t care about that,” you interrupted without hesitation, eyes scalding and sharp, “I know you’re sorry. It’s the least you could feel after everything you said to me. I don’t care.”

“R-Right…” he trailed off, sensing the heat from the overhead lights as though they were shining directly into his face. Wonwoo pulled at the sleeves of his hoodie, gulping, “I guess you want to know—"

“Why. I want to know why you did what you did.”

“Why?” He echoed dumbly.

“Yes, why. Pull out an entire script and apologize—I don’t want that. Acknowledge what you did—good for you. I’m glad you can see how fucked up it was, all while I had to cope with your analysis on why I’m such a god-awful person. People say sorry all the time. I know it can be genuine. I just don’t care. Sorry doesn’t help me understand. Sorry doesn’t take away the weeks I lost, tearing myself apart. Sorry doesn’t mean fucking anything to me if all you’re apologizing for is something I already lived and breathed.”

“No, that—yeah, it makes sense...”

His fingers suddenly gripped the edge of the island, knuckles ivory white. Your intensity was more disorienting than a drug, but Wonwoo knew he needed to stay calm. Breathe. Listen.

“Okay, so?” You shrugged. “Tell me, then.”

“Why I did what I did…” Wonwoo exhaled, staring at his reflection in the marble while his mind twitched into complete blankness. “Well... I-I guess I was feeling… there was a lot I was feeling and... fuck.”

At the last second, he scraped everything he was going to say.

Wonwoo then looked up at you, who was so cold and reluctant.

“You know, um… before I met you, I had a girlfriend. I know I've never mentioned it. But her name was Jeanie. I met her at the university, actually. She worked in the Morrison library—like, the big stone building that looks like a castle, almost. Anyway. I met her because I needed to sign out a textbook for this elective I was taking and she helped me find it… Jeanie. Yeah. I don’t know if you ever saw her or—she was really shy. But I felt like she listened well, no matter what you were saying, or what you were talking about. She would give you her full attention. And… I just remember thinking… I could tell you anything, Jeanie. I could tell you I fucking pushed someone in front of a bus and you would wait and listen and hear me out until the end. She would make you feel… normal… human.

But—the thing is—I’m sort of laughing because I’m saying all this now, but… at the time, even despite my love for her, and how much I trusted her… I just… I kept her out. I didn’t think it was a bad thing. She knew I had anxiety, but never knew how bad. I never told her I stopped taking my pills. I never told her my actual feelings about anything… like, despite having this perfect person in my life, I still couldn’t open up. I didn’t think there was much harm to it, either. It would cause tension. Things would get… uncomfortable… but as long as she was there, I was like—I can get away with this. I don’t need to really discuss anything. She will always be here.

And then… one day… she just… wasn’t… uh—ahem—sorry, just—something in my throat, b-but, uh… yeah. She was gone. All her clothes, all her belongings: toothbrush, makeup, clothes, stuffed toys, notebooks, mugs, house decorations. It was all gone. I remember coming home to an apartment that was stripped bare. Like a skeleton. She took every part of herself from it. And all I could do was dumbly stand there and look at the bones.

Her number was disconnected, too. There was no one I could get a hold of that would tell me anything until I got this weird, vague email from her mom. ‘My daughter won’t be seeing you anymore. She’s safe. No need to worry.’ Those words picked themselves into my brain. I would go to sleep seeing them. I would repeat them in my head all night, and wake up with them still chiming. And I thought to myself, with all the weight in my heart… how could she do this? How could she leave and take everything and erase me without a word? It had to be her and it had to be the world just proving my point: being vulnerable, trusting, expressive—it isn’t worth it.

I really, truly believed it. I mean, I held onto it. I always looked at her as the one with the issue, but—fuck—it was me. I was the fucking issue. I… I must have made her feel so unimportant. I probably confused her, destroyed our trust, fucked up her concept of love. Like… I made her feel so trapped… that she felt the best thing to do was disappear, because there was no other way out… I made her feel that way. Me. It was me the entire time. And… I never really processed that until you were six feet away, screaming at me, cursing me up and down in the same living room I came home to that day, all emptied out. I had it out with you, the way I never had with Jeanie…

And the truth is, Her… I kind of… I always sort of knew I had that problem. I lived without ever wanting to acknowledge it. But I never really… I-I basically… I didn’t care about fixing it until I met you.”

Wonwoo tilted his head and stared at your quivering bottom lip, the shininess to your razor-sharp eyes, the manner in which your fingernails were sinching indents upon the skin of your biceps.

He paused, chuckling.

“I know I already told you… but you used to terrify me. I didn’t think we would ever mesh. Whenever I looked at you, I saw someone who knew herself, and I was so severely the opposite. But miraculously, I guess, you ended up being the person I feel the most comfortable with… when I see someone strong like you unravel, it makes me want to unravel, too. The trust I had for you was infinite.”

From across the island, Wonwoo noted how your eyes momentarily drifted down. A lump was sitting square at the base of your throat and it took a very dense swallow for you to even speak.

“… Had?” You whispered with a sniffle, hugging yourself.

Rolling out his shoulders, Wonwoo frowned.

“It was the party, Her. If you remember us talking in the guest bedroom… I told you that story about my brother and I, about my decision to move from Changwon… you’d nearly grappled Bells down to the ground an hour before. You apologized to me because you thought it ruined my night, but I promised you that it was fine, that I would always be here for you. And then we split ways. And you… you were… well, there’s really no clean way to say it but—”

“I had sex with Mingyu.”

“Uh, well… yeah.”

You shook your head. “He’s my boyfriend, Wonwoo.”

“I know, I know. It makes it sound stupid but—”

“No—wait. You’re pissed at me because I chose to have sex with my boyfriend? Are you—are you hearing yourself?”

“Her, please, listen—”

“I went through all of your bullshit because of that!”

“Can I just—”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

“It was because I liked you!”

Wonwoo’s heart was thumping almost audibly against his chest while his veins soared with adrenaline. Your fists were sitting, balled, on the kitchen island, though they began to unfurl as the weight cupping his confession—which was a mild version of what he truly meant to say—hung in the air like the plumes from a wildfire.

“I liked you, a lot," he admitted, watching your eyes slim with confusion, "and I’m sorry if that ruins us even more… but it’s true.”

“Wha—what—no. What do you mean you liked me? You liked me as in what? You liked me in a crushy silly way that’s just for fun, o-or you liked me in a serious way, that’s like, you want to… you want…”

Your mouth hung open, shoulders hunching.

His teeth gritted. “I thought I could… I wanted to…”

“Please just spit it out.”

“I wanted to be with you. I wanted to be your boyfriend.”

Flares of heat melted slow across his face. Wonwoo could feel his temperature climatically rising. Still, it wasn’t the entire truth. His likeness wasn’t just that—it was a fully blossomed and unshakeable love. Though, he figured it might be too much, too suddenly.

“O-Oh…” you stuttered, “… and, you thought that…”

“Maybe you felt the way I did. Not that I’m going to ask if you did or didn’t. I mean, this was over a month ago. I’ve had lots of time to myself. I’ve been thinking plenty… the point is, I let those feelings affect my clarity and that’s why I felt so hurt. I felt like I was so open and candour just to kinda have it… thrown back in my face. But it just seems like every relationship I have, I sabotage it somehow… I didn’t go about us in the right way—not at all. It blew up into something terrible. I wish every day that I would have handled it differently. But I didn’t. I kept my mouth shut when I should have just talked to you.”

“Oh… god, Wonwoo.”

“I-I don’t know. It was late, and I was high—you were off a line of coke for fuck’s sake—I just—in that moment, didn’t it feel… like we were something? More than friends? Maybe you don’t remember everything. Some of it’s a blur, even to me. Like some fever dream.”

“No… I do remember some of it. I remember the spare bedroom. I remember how fucking comfortable that bed was. You were there… you were… helping me… and we... I know at some point we were lying down together but I don’t remember what I was thinking or everything I said… it’s just—it’s a lot… too much, almost.”

A groan reverberated from within your deepest cavity and he could only watch through the warm kitchen light as you leaned forward into your hands, your body slumped against the countertop and radiating with agony. Wonwoo didn’t know what to make of the spectacle, though he chose to let you swim in whatever sentiment was swallowing you whole, your head beginning to shake back and forth.

“Wonwoo… listen… I get that—I get what you’re saying, okay? I get that you have this fucking problem with vulnerability, and trust, and the—the, um—the self-sabotaging. I know. I have that, too. And I can understand that it was possible to misinterpret us…”

That word was like a decommissioning punch to his gut—misinterpret—as though it was merely wishful, ditzy thinking and it was him and him alone living inside the delusion despite the fact you were snuggling up against him. However, Wonwoo bit his tongue and simply listened. He didn’t need his bruised heart getting in the way.

“But that night was just—it was irresponsible, okay? On both our parts. I have a boyfriend who I very much l-like, and… and we’re just—you and I, I mean—we’re good at being friends. And you said it yourself that you’ve had time to think and get past it, so…”

“… Yeah.”

“Yeah.”

Wonwoo didn’t need his love to be reciprocated nor did he want to know if you actually harboured any feelings toward him back then. All he desired was for you to get what you had plainly wanted—the why. Perhaps it was unsatisfactory, lacklustre, or maybe it was beyond ridiculous and too inconceivable for words.

He was grateful that he’d even made it this far.

With a heavy, laboured sigh, you managed to push yourself from the marbled counter. A hand then propped onto your hip.

Your nails clicked once against the island.

“So… that’s it, huh?” There was a nasally tone to your voice.

Biting his lip, Wonwoo adjusted his glasses, nodding. “Mmhm.”

Your head tilted straight back, like you were attempting to stop a runny trail of tears from escaping down your cheeks. You suckled in a breath, pressed your lips together firmly.

And then, abruptly, you laughed, pinching at your nose while your eyes squeezed shut. It was an exhausted, humourless laugh.

“Fuck… fuck, fuck, fuck.”

He didn’t exactly know what it was you were cursing, whether it be the realization of what the fight actually meant, or a reaction to his timid, but expired, confession. It could be that the information was too daunting and you were left with no instinct of how to manage it. Wonwoo chewed down on his tongue, keeping silent.

When your eyes opened again, they fell toward the fridge.

“Um… wasn’t it your birthday? Back in July?” You asked with a wet sniffle, brushing a wrist underneath your nose.

“Yeah… July seventeenth.”

Not bothering to speak, you walked over to the fridge and pulled the door open, pale light emanating from inside as you rifled around, moving containers and cartons and fresh produce. It was then that you revealed a cardboard box. Returning to the counter, you set the box in the very centre, and with trembling hands, you began unsticking the corners in order to reveal the surprise inside—a decent sized cupcake, frosted high with thick, white icing.

You sniffed again, turning to grab something from a utensil drawer, and then another item or two out the cupboard.

“It’s from Terra Cotta—it’s just a red velvet cupcake with cream cheese icing—which I ordered as a dessert when I ate out with Princess the other night. But I was too full to eat it after stuffing my face with pasta, unfortunately. So, I got it packaged up. Stuck it in the fridge. Forgot about its existence until now.”

A butter knife fell onto the island, followed by a lighter and a single pink candle. You sighed, eyes turning waterier by the minute, and Wonwoo felt a twinge in his chest that ached like hell.

“Do you like red velvet cake?”

Wonwoo huffed, shrugging. “Um, I’m not sure. Never had it.”

You picked up the candle. “Want to?”

He smiled. “Sure.”

Rather than keeping the cupcake inside the box, you moved the dessert delicately onto a clean porcelain plate and proceeded to shut the lights off. The orange sunset that painted the streets had bled out all its lurid colour. Wonwoo was just beginning to realize how dark it was in the apartment. You propped the pink candle into the expertly piped cream cheese frosting and ignited the tiny wick. A shivering halo of fire reflected in the marble countertop as the flame wriggled and the wax burnt.

Honestly, he didn’t know what the moment signified—if it was a mere gesture of forgiveness, or just a simple means to release all the tension—Wonwoo had not a clue. He thought he should be looking at the cupcake but Wonwoo was looking at you and the lambent glow flickering across your very upset, still face.

Sniffling again, you picked up the butter knife.

“Okay… hurry up and make a wish, please.”

“Really?” Wonwoo chuckled. “You want me to make a wish?”

“Uh… yes. That’s what people do when it’s their birthday.”

“It’s not my birthday.”

“Well—fuck—the spirit of your birthday, then.”

“You're asking a lot of me, you know. All this pressure.”

“Oh my god—it's just one ditsy little wish. I'm not asking you to write out your will, or solve world hunger. It's one stupid, tiny wish. For the sake of the moment. Hurry up before the wax drips on the icing.”

“I think you can just peel the wax off once it hardens—”

“Fuck! I don’t care, Wonwoo! God! Just—” he watched with a satisfactory smirk as you leaned forward and impatiently blew out the candle for him, “—there! Now, you don’t even get the opportunity to make a wish. Hope it was worth it.”

“So, you made a wish in my place, right?”

“Shut up. I’m cutting you the smaller half.”

“You didn't answer my question, though.”

“Hey, I don’t sound like that.”

“No, I didn't make a wish in your place—here.”

“Thank you.”

“… How does it taste?”

“Uh, it’s good. A little firm. The icing is really rich, but I suppose that’s typical of cream cheese stuff. But overall, I like it.”

“I really love red velvet. Especially in cupcake form.”

“Hm. Didn’t know that.”

“I wonder if I could get a dozen ordered for my birthday...”

“We’re celebrating my birthday and you’re already thinking of your own? Can you at least wait until I’m out the fucking door?”

“You said it doesn’t matter!”

“Now, that’s not what I said.”

“Don't act like such a smart ass.”

Wonwoo knew he missed your quippy retorts, but he hadn’t realized he’d missed it this much. It was filling a pitted crater within his chest that had remained empty and stone cold ever since the argument.

As you turned the kitchen light back on, Wonwoo stuffed the rest of the frosted cupcake into his mouth and dusted his hands clean.

He didn’t know what was supposed to happen now.

Stubbornly, Wonwoo didn’t want to leave your apartment. It had been too long since he’d last seen your beautiful face, and half his summer was already wasted to lamenting the relationship he’d ungraciously snipped in half like a fresh garden rose. If you wanted him to leave, then he would oblige, because Wonwoo could never go back on his word to abide by the choices that might make you the happiest. That was what he cared about most, anyway.

From the opposite side of the island, you began to cross your arms again, fingers digging tight into your ribs. Wonwoo could see that the hues of grief and melancholy hadn’t really abandoned your face since his arrival, and the tears that had earlier welled up in your eyes were steadily returning, glinting along your bottom lashes as though they were dew droplets. Feeling his throat turn dry and sensing the air become dampened with your sadness, Wonwoo knew what you were going to ask—he braced himself quick.

“So… um…” you began pulling at the short sleeve of your silk-buttoned top, rolling the fabric between uneasy fingers, “it’s getting a little bit late and I just t-think you should go now, Wonwoo…”

He nodded, pushing at his glasses. “Yeah… of course.”

There was such an evident somberness about the way his feet dragged toward the door. You had walked him over, and now that the space between you was significantly less, Wonwoo had never battled so hard with his self-control to keep himself from touching you—even if it was just a slight, chaste brush of his fingers against yours—the simplicity and feel of your strawberry-scented skin would appease his constant aching. He glanced at you, saw that your arms were still crossed and your eyes trained to muse over the floorboards.

Wonwoo scraped against the cuticle of his thumb.

Does he just… leave?

It felt too abrupt.

He smiled at you, keeping it soft and mindful.

“Thank you for listening to me… I mean it… you didn’t have to but you did anyway and… uh, I don’t know. Just—thank you.”

“Mmhm…”

You were squeezing at your ribs even tighter now, pressing in your fingers so unnaturally deep. In fact, Wonwoo was beginning to feel worried, especially when he noticed the quivering in your frame and the hard bite you were sinking into your lower lip—how there were tears streaking one by one down the slope of your cheeks.

Wonwoo’s hand had been lingering on the doorknob, though it slipped off absentmindedly. He wanted to reach for your shoulder and give it a comfortable, warm massage, but he was still too fearful.

“Her… are you alright?”

After a cautious step closer, Wonwoo paused, attempting to peer at your face despite its pointed direction toward the floor. The question was worthless, he realized. You were crying and choking up.

“Do you… should I go?”

God—what an even more stupid question to ask—the thing he wanted to do least was leave when you were this hurt. But Wonwoo needed to know if it was his presence that was disturbing you.

You shook your head, sniffled up all the wet, runny congestion in your nose. He watched the teeth free from your lip as you gasped.

“I-I don’t know… I’m really, really sad, Wonwoo.”

He thought he might panic in the midst of your crumbling, however, there was too much guilt and heartache inside him.

“I know…” he murmured.

Somehow, it felt so criminal to just stand there and watch you weep, hearing every desperate attempt for a breath as you could only clutch onto yourself harder and let the tears helplessly fall.

Wonwoo swallowed, feeling his throat burn.

“Can I comfort you for a bit?”

You hiccupped, and your face pinched up in complete misery, the response struggling to escape through the large sob you cried out.

“Please.”

Immediately, his hands braced against the edges of your very warm, wet face. The heat was radiating like a summer blacktop, and the tears were quick to pool against his fingers as he did his darndest to softly clean and wipe them from your skin—though, Wonwoo came to accept that it might be futile—and he opted to cup your cheeks for just a brief moment, staring into your damp lashes and puffy eyes.

“Still such a gorgeous girl, even when you’re crying.”

You huffed at him, grasping onto his hoodie and tugging it.

“I need you closer, please.”

Waddling into his arms, your face smushed right against his shoulder. In the dim august dusk that meekly glowed through the windows of your downtown, sumptuous apartment, Wonwoo cradled you, coaxing a hand nice and gentle along your trembling head while his arm kept you secured firm into his body. As wonderful as it felt to hold you in the way he always dreamt of, Wonwoo knew that those tears wrinkling his clothes were mostly driven by him.

Your arms dug into his chest. It seemed like you wanted to burrow impossibly closer, into his ribs if you could, but the desire frustratingly couldn’t be fulfilled. To compensate, Wonwoo attempted to squeeze you even more, though he was somewhat afraid of cracking you in half. Maybe that’s what you were craving.

But he liked you very much alive.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair, still damp from the shower and rife with the scent of fragrant blossoms, “I know you don’t want me to apologize, but I have to. Everything I said to you… it was just stupid, pent-up rage from my own shortcomings… so much was building inside me and I made such a dumb fucking mistake—taking our situation and using it as a target—it was all bullshit..." inhaling a breath, Wonwoo sighed. "I shouldn’t have let you walk out that door… but I don’t think you would have wanted to listen, anyway... you probably would have just told me again to go fuck myself… you know, that was actually the first time I’ve ever been told that?”

Your cheek nuzzled against his shoulder. The breath you proceeded to cough out made it sound like you were terribly ill.

“T-That’s hard to believe…”

Wonwoo smiled, smoothing a hand down your back. “You think so?”

Threading your fingers deeper into his hoodie, you nodded.

Stopping to contemplate, Wonwoo ended up agreeing, “hm… yeah... you’re right. There were probably a lot of times in my life where I deserved to hear that. But you’re the first, anyway.”

“Y-You… you deserve to hear it again… I mean, what were you thinking, Wonwoo?” Raising your head from his shoulder and sucking in a much-needed breath, you rubbed at the glisten iridescent to your face. “I didn’t know… I was just trying to t-tal-talk to you…”

Wonwoo unstuck some small, matted hairs from your forehead, guiding them away with the daintiest movements.

“I know you were...” he answered, keeping his voice quiet.

“And then, in the car… I-I just sat there and cried for so long that the sky got dark. I didn’t know what to do—like, I thought I might call Mingyu but he was at work a-and I had no idea what I would even say to him... and then, I called Princess. And she said I could come over and I legit couldn’t get one fucking word out to her.”

Meanwhile focusing on your choked, heavy sentiments, Wonwoo continued to clean the tears from your face. A warm hand had grabbed onto his wrist, not stopping him—just gently holding—as though you needed the contact to ground yourself, even a little bit.

“The shitty part was… even when I was at my angriest… I still couldn’t get myself to hate you. But I wanted it so bad, Wonwoo. I stayed up almost every night, trying to convince myself that you were the worst person I ever met, a-and that I would be better off without you—that you were a poison to me and everything about you is just a ruse to hurt people. No matter what I told myself, nothing would ever work… because I would—I-I don’t fucking know—I would think about how fucking good you make me feel inside. H-How happy I am when I’m with you. You listen to me, a-and you care about my thoughts and my interests and you’re just—you—you fucking live inside me somehow and I want you out so bad but there’s nothing I can do.”

Wonwoo had removed his hands from your face.

They slid down to your hips. He squeezed them tight, digging his thumbs into your flesh and bone over the silken shorts.

“You live inside me, too.”

Rubbing off your nose, you shook your head angrily.

“It can’t be like that.”

His throat twisted up.

“Why?”

“B-Because it—it can’t. You know I have Mingyu…”

“I only think about you. It’s always you. I don’t want it to change.” Wonwoo pleaded, hanging onto every word—trying to search for your eyes despite the adamant refusal to meet his gaze.

“But I just—I can’t do it.”

“Why?”

“Because!” You pushed at his broad chest, forcing him away as the anguished, grief-stricken shout reverberated between the high ceilings. Gripping at your head, you started to cry again. “I-I’m still so fucking angry at you, Wonwoo. I hate holding onto it and I hate that it’s been over a month and I’m still processing everything, but I can’t just move on from those feelings! I have to see it through. ”

The air was ice cold against him.

He just wanted your perfect body back in his arms.

“O-Okay… okay. I get it.”

“You do? Because I can’t keep reliving this. I just can’t.”

Wonwoo sighed, curling his fingers in and out.

“No, I—I hear you. I promise.”

You still needed time. You weren’t ready to forgive him. That was okay, and he wasn’t the least bit vexated by it. If he had to wait an entire year, then he would wait. Nothing would shake him from you.

Slapping a palm against your cheek, you shoved away the further tears which were seeming to become an annoyance. Wonwoo wanted desperately to be the one to wipe your pretty face and kiss away the salty taste of your sadness, but he knew not to push his luck.

Beyond the windowpanes, the sky was nearly pitch black, pinpricked by all the distant lights from the city buildings.

“I’ll go now, okay?” Wonwoo murmured.

Folding your arms, you sniffled a little, nodding.

“Okay...”

He wanted to say goodnight to you, but then he thought of that rule you had proclaimed during your late-night phone conversation many moons ago—you had to say it first as courtesy.

Except, you were silent.

Nonetheless, Wonwoo had liked to think it was sitting right on the tip of your tongue, just as it was sitting on his.

—SEPTEMBER 8TH.

When he thought back on his summer, Wonwoo couldn’t believe the quickness with which it had flown by, especially considering how nauseously slow some parts moved while he existed, trapped, inside them. Still, it was probably Wonwoo’s most eventful summer since his move from Korea, in more ways than one. Now, it was back to university for his final year as a maths student, and Wonwoo actually couldn’t be happier for the introduction of routine and the opportunity to test all the inner workings he’d accomplished.

Just last week, Vernon had thrown together a small party in the backyard of his friend’s rental home. He was housesitting, and though Wonwoo wasn’t sure why the friend in question would pick a promiscuous drug dealer for hospitality upkeep, the party was apparently approved and Wonwoo had made the effort to attend.

It gave him the chance to reunite with Seungcheol and Seokmin who he’d unintentionally given the cold shoulder. He was just thankful they were relaxed about everything. The night was spent swapping stories from their summer by the makeshift firepit, drinking cold beers, and watching the fireflies twinkle in the dry backyard brush. Vernon had spent all his time sweet-talking some new girl he’d invited from the club, and when they disappeared inside for about half an hour, Wonwoo prayed his bladder could hold out.

Wonwoo had also invited Sierra.

He figured she was just too warm and amicable and he knew she would get along seamlessly with everyone there.

Since they last spoke downstairs in the pottery shop during late July, Sierra had gotten herself a girlfriend—a patron of the Honeymoon who worked up the courage to ask Sierra out after admiring her bartending skills, as he’d heard it—and Wonwoo was more than happy to extend the invite. Seungcheol had predictably brought along Princess, though Wonwoo hadn’t been too worried. They seemed to be on good terms despite the chip in the relationship.

If you had been in town at the time, Wonwoo would have invited you, too. But you weren’t, instead accompanying your mother on a three-day venture outside the city for some publisher’s trip.

But he kept you in mind the entire night. He saw you in the wide, bright moon sitting squarely above the crackling fire, and he felt you in the colder breezes that whispered the beginnings of a soft, fresh autumn. You were everywhere inside him, just like his blood.

Wonwoo had liked to think he’d done it right. All those conversations he shared with you over the phone since the reunion at your apartment seemed promising—even when they flared and ached like a broken bone—Wonwoo had just wanted to hear your voice and know your heart. Though, the conclusion had dipped him in a strange, confusing predicament he still struggled to reason.

“I think we work best as friends… we’ll always be friends.”

The moment was followed by the most intense silence, and then Wonwoo had shifted the phone against his ear, spreading on an audible smile that couldn’t have looked any faker in person.

“Yeah… I see that, too.”

But he didn’t.

He was still in love with you.

And now Wonwoo didn’t know what to do.

You had come to an agreement that he should no longer help you with the book as it had been a point of contention since the start. Plus, you were now confident enough in your skills to finish it.

Surprisingly, Wonwoo was okay with that.

Nonetheless, he did offer his help if you ever needed it.

In fact, as Wonwoo sat in the small auditorium for his newest elective—the continuation to last year’s creative writing—he was scrolling through an old document you had sent him months ago, containing a litany of the same messily written paragraph, just rehashed as you attempted to find the best wording for it. Wonwoo couldn’t help but smile against the palm squishing at his chin.

Your mind always did seem to work in twelve different ways.

Since he’d shown up early to the lecture, Wonwoo was able to pick a good seat in the middle. He recognized a few faces from last year as more students began to trickle in. Wonwoo kept his bookbag on the chair to his right because he liked the extra space, though he began fearing he might have to move it when the lecture hall filled to a degree past his expectations. Since when did all these people take the class last year? Was it because of the new professor? He spun a pen between his fingers, observing everyone rather judgementally.

“Hey—are you saving a seat for your non-existent friend, or are you leaving your bag here to make sure no one else would sit beside you? Not that anyone would want to with the way you’re begrudgingly staring down every single person who walks in here.”

Wonwoo grinned, the pen stilling into his hand.

He knew your attitude like the ducks on his aunt’s shower curtain.

“If it’s such a big deal to you, you can move it.”

“Oh, can I? Do I get the pleasure of moving your bookbag, Wonwoo? Are you really that kind as to save such a life-changing, personal, and intimate experience, just for me?”

Smirking up at you, Wonwoo dropped his bag onto the floor.

He was promptly greeted by a very shiny smile.

“That’s what I thought,” you said matter-of-factly, setting your iconic cream purse onto your lap after sliding into the chair.

“So,” Wonwoo huffed, leaning back and casting you a curious glance, “you didn’t tell me you were going to take creative writing.”

Pulling out some chapstick, you laughed. “Uh—you didn’t tell me, either,” the comment was wry and muttered through the obstacle of moisturizing your lips.

Scratching his temple, Wonwoo chuckled, “fair.”

“Gosh, there’s so many people in here. Way more than I was expecting. I mean, who even are these goddamn people? I hardly recognize any of them—oh my gosh, do you think it’s because of the new professor? I looked her up, you know. She’s published three books—they’ve all got crazy good accolades—and one of them was even made into a movie! That has to be why. Should I try to get face time with her after class? No—actually, I won’t. Then I look totally desperate. I’ll play it cool. I’ll wait until, like, three classes from now.”

“Well, you’re never short of making an impression.”

“Meaning what?”

“Fuck,” Wonwoo laughed, “what the fuck do you think it means? It’s not like I’m talking in morse code. You make an impression.”

You smacked a hand down on his knee. “Well, how do I know if you mean good or bad! And don't curse at me like that.”

“Okay, okay. You're right. I'm sorry.”

“Are you?”

“Yes,” he replied, softening his voice, “I am very extremely sorry.”

That little smile you gave him was enchanting.

Wonwoo cleared his throat. “And I meant good, obviously.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. If you say anything to her, she’ll love you.”

“That’s a bit extreme.”

“She’ll keep you reasonably in her thoughts?”

“Hm. Yes. I like that better,” you agreed.

While you busied yourself with removing the laptop from your purse and taking an extra minute to inspect your face with a small, compact mirror, Wonwoo glanced around the room again. A few people standing by the professor’s podium at the front were looking at you, their mouths moving in conversation, though Wonwoo could hear none of it from the general chatter. He supposed you were used to getting those dissecting, curious, maybe even sometimes hurtful stares. There was always a light shining on you, wanted or not.

As Wonwoo pulled open the class syllabus on his laptop, he felt a tap against his shoulder. Slightly turning his head, he spotted someone shuffling by in the cramped row behind him, waving.

“Hey, Wonwoo,” the stranger said quickly in passing.

Squinting at him through his glasses, Wonwoo nodded. “Uh, hey.”

You quirked an eyebrow. “Who was that?”

He shrugged. “No idea. Someone from last year, I guess.”

“I see. Mr. Popular. Taking names and breaking hearts.”

Wonwoo laughed, shaking his head. “The opposite, actually.”

You giggled so lightly at his response, and for a very slow moment, Wonwoo saw and felt the heat of your eyes stilling in focus upon his face. He squirmed somewhat in his seat, fingers picking at the rough, dark blue material upholstered over the chair’s arm. But then you resumed staring back at yourself in the compact mirror while applying another layer of lip balm, and Wonwoo had to subtly breathe out all the butterflies that fluttered up from his stomach.

With a satisfying snap, you’d shut the mirror, stuffing it back into the purse that was sitting atop his bag on the floor. He wanted to ask you how the book was coming along, how much progress you had made since he last proofread anything, if you were still engaging in those messily long sentences or had you since learned to clean them up.

But it was hard for Wonwoo to ask.

He studied the nervous hands in his lap.

“So… are you free after class?”

You tilted your head in thought. “Uh, I think so? This is my only class today, actually. No more SSA. I’m beyond happy. No one else seemed to take it well but me. I don’t care, though.”

“No, you made the right choice.”

“So, why do you ask?” Angling your body toward him, you smiled, and Wonwoo felt this pool of warmth expand in his chest.

“Do you want to stop at the café on Sunnyside?”

“Maybe. Is it good? I’ve never actually ate there.”

“I think it’s good,” he said, bouncing his knee. “I used to sit in there all the time. I don’t as much anymore, but it’s a cute place to visit. About a ten-minute walk from here. Plus, it’s nice outside.”

You nodded. “I’ll think it over.”

Knowing that class was starting soon, Wonwoo moved the phone sitting on the edge of his tabletop into his back pocket.

“Actually, can I ask you something?”

He stiffened in his seat, hardly managing a nod. That always seemed to be a weighted question, especially in your hands, and the fact that you were biting the skin of your bottom lip only stirred forth more worry. Wonwoo folded his arms and nodded, feeling his heart beat.

“Well, it’s just—there’s no exact date yet, okay? But sometime in very late September my family is having another dinner party.”

Wonwoo’s fingers dug into his arms. “Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah…” you trailed off, continuing to bite your lip, “and, I basically—I-I’ve kind of been blabbing to my mom and stuff. You’ve definitely come up in some conversations. She made a comment that I could invite you and even though I disagree with her on, like, millions of things, I thought it might be a good idea…” your eyes flashed at him doubtfully. “So, like, I’m not gonna force you or anything. I’ve ranted to you about these dinner parties before so I’m sure you know how awful they can be. But… I don’t know… I mean, you don’t even have to stay the entire time. You could just pop by, o-or, or something like that. I just… I think seeing you before will help calm me down.”

Out of everything you could have asked, Wonwoo was least expecting the dinner party question. It seemed to have a very routine structure and Wonwoo couldn’t help but think that his presence there might throw everything off-kilter and the last—the very fucking last—thing he wanted was for your parents to absolutely loathe him. You always complained about them. Even with Mingyu and Seokmin there to accompany you, it seemed never to be enough. However, Wonwoo would hate to leave you hanging so dryly out in the open.

Even if he dreaded it, you mattered more to him than any awkward or nervous sentiments he harboured about the situation.

“Uh… okay. Yeah. I can go.”

You straightened up like a hair standing on end. “Really?!”

He nodded, pushing up his glasses. “Yeah.”

“Oh my gosh! You’re the best!”

Leaning over the chair rest, you bracketed your arms around Wonwoo’s neck, squeezing him into a quick hug that left his heart racing. Your sweet smell lingered in his nose as you slipped away.

“That’s such a relief… and—yes—for as much as I complain about it, I promise I’ll do my absolute best to keep everything on the rails. I’ll get you out of anything awkward or uncomfortable. And if you feel like it’s too much, I’ll be right there. I promise.”

Wonwoo smiled bashfully, shaking his head.

“Don’t put so much pressure on yourself. I can manage a few shit conversations and uncomfortable silences. I’ve got my own problematic parents. I appreciate the thought, though. Means a lot.”

It would be another matter to anxiously dwell over until it actually happened, but Wonwoo was okay with it knowing how receptive you had become to his mood. More than anything, he didn’t know how to deal with Mingyu. The party had been decent. There were multiple people to bounce off and uplift the weight, substances to mellow the tension and distract the mind. But this felt very different. This would be more intimate. Less room for error in the form of lasting, arduous glances and short but gentle touches.

All he hoped for is that it might end better than the party.

—SEPTEMBER 29TH.

“So, I’ll come pick you up, okay? Just gotta text me.”

“… Yeah, that works. Okay.”

“Take a breath, Glasses. If anyone’s got this, it’s you, alright? No negative Nina shit. You’re lookin’ gorgeous, even more than me.”

“It’s Nancy.”

“What?”

“It’s—never mind.”

“Who’s Nancy?”

“I said never mind.”

“Okay, okay. Jeez… make sure you drop the attitude when you get in there. It’s not very cute of you, yeah?”

Wonwoo felt Vernon’s hand grip onto his shoulder, bestowing him a confident shake that somehow only served to reveal how jellied and weak he’d become. But Wonwoo also knew he couldn’t sit inside the mint-scented interior of his friend’s vanilla Camry the entire night, waiting for some lightning bolt to strike him with the energy he blatantly needed. Consequently, his attitude had gotten a bit snappy.

Vernon was right, though. Wonwoo had to find it within himself to relax, take a breath, and realize the time would fly once he was past the initial haze. Besides, you were there. That was all he really cared about. It made the most impossible things possible.

Looking down at the sleek, unwrinkled material of his black suit jacket, Wonwoo gave it a final and deciding tug. He then reached for the gift bag sitting by his feet. Inhaling, his lungs filled deep with air and Wonwoo was clicking his fist against Vernon’s.

“You’ve got this, playboy.”

“See you on the other side, I guess.”

Exiting the vehicle, Wonwoo spared one last hopeful glance at his face-studded friend before slamming the door shut, now caught outside underneath the moon’s shimmer. Late nights in September always seemed to be somewhat dewy and cold, with golden, ruby, and amber leaves slicked against the streets like flowers pressed into paper. Wonwoo shivered, smelling the earthiness in the atmosphere.

After tightening his fingers around the straps of the gift bag, he began making his way up the smoothly paved driveway, toward the welcoming and aglow ambiance that beamed from your family house.

He grabbed the rung at the door, slamming it a few times.

The anxious breath slowly flowed from his mouth as Wonwoo’s mind raced with who would be the one to answer. Feeling his circled glasses slip, Wonwoo pushed them back up using his finger. At the same time, the front door swung open, and in the clarity, relief washed over him like the caress of that autumn wind.

“Fuck! You’re here!”

Before Wonwoo could get a word out, your arms were already thrown around his neck. The hug was fleeting. As quickly as your body was pressed flush against his, it was gone a second later.

“Uh, yeah. Just got dropped off.”

“Oh my gosh. Come in, come in,” you chirped like an excited bird, pulling at his elbow, “I’m legit so happy you’re here. Don’t worry about taking off your shoes. I know I’m barefoot at the moment but I’ve been so freaking scatterbrained that I haven’t even picked out a pair of heels yet. You look amazing. I’ve never seen you dressed up!”

His face began to burn at the compliment.

“I don’t attend many things that require fancy clothes.”

“Well, there’s a first for everything.”

Smiling, Wonwoo realized that he hadn’t really marvelled your dress, but there was something awfully familiar about it—the shiny olive-green colour, the elegant, revealing slit at the right thigh, the thin yet simple straps draped along the open, lowcut back—he then remembered it was the final dress you had tried on from that expensive boutique in the mall. Somehow, the material looked even more stunning on you now than it did before.

His face grew warmer, sizzling almost.

“That dress has always looked perfect on you.”

There was so much more he could spew in the moment, some cloying, sweet thoughts and some very impure ones, too. But Wonwoo wasn’t trying to cross boundaries and he had to respect your wishes of staying as friends, even if it tore him up inside beyond words.

Fiddling with your fingers, you gave him a soft smile. “I’m glad you recognized it.”

The hallway suddenly got very quiet. You were both just standing there, staring at each other, biting lips and scratching skin.

“So, um, I guess I can show you arou—”

“Oh, there they are! Honey, they’re out here!”

Wonwoo’s tender gaze had suddenly snapped toward a woman barging out from an illuminated doorway, a wine glass poised in her hand while the largest, most bedazzled necklace he had ever seen weighed down to her chest. Weathered heels beat the floorboards, echoing between the walls as she stalked toward him.

“You must be Wonwoo!”

Her hand was gripping onto his wrist and Wonwoo could only prompt a weak smile that was indicative of his racing, feeble heart.

“Yeah, correct. Pleased to finally meet you.”

“Oh, charmer. Pleasure’s all mine, sunshine. Okay, but—let me get a good look at you. Don’t feel like you have to stand by the doorway, all polite-like. Come a bit more into the light, over here.”

“Mom, don’t pull him,” you warned between clenched teeth.

“Ah, it’s alright, it’s alright. Don’t fret so much. Sheesh.”

Standing beneath the warm and yellow glow from the hallway chandelier, there was notable heaviness in Wonwoo’s chest as your mother’s dilated, intensive gaze wracked along his every feature, as though she were the reading the fine print to one of her catalogues.

“You’re certainly gorgeous,” she complimented, “and that voice! So soothing. How do you not have a lovely lady on your arm?”

Wonwoo’s eyes skipped to you in complete and utter panic.

Grabbing onto her shoulder, you gently guided her away.

“Mom, come on. You’re smothering him, alright? Remember the thing with Mingyu? I told you not to do that anymore. He just got here and I want him to actually enjoy himself. Don’t be so… pouncey.”

“Okay. I got it,” the mom said, lifting her hand and wine glass in submission, seeming serious for no less a few seconds. “The princess of the house, FYI. She always gets what she wants.”

You knocked her touch away as she wriggled your chin, very poorly veiling your annoyance through a grumble, “it’s not like that.”

“Didn’t I call in your father? What’s taking so long?”

“I don’t know. He’s probably hiding in his office.”

“Is that where he is? Really? When I asked him to set the table? Jeez. You spend all day cooking a meal, chopping and dicing and braising and frying, and the man just can’t be bothered to put out some knives and forks. This is why I opened the wine early, y’know.”

Your arms folded, and you appeared so much smaller.

“Seokmin set the table already.”

“Oh! What—he—he did? I didn't even notice!”

“Yes, like an hour ago.”

“Oh my gosh! That boy’s an angel. Raised so well, wasn’t he? You know Seokmin, right, Wonwoo? You’re all friends?”

Awkwardly shifting in his place, Wonwoo nodded. He couldn’t help but wonder where Seokmin or Mingyu were. There was dulled music echoing softly from a distant room in the house. Down the hallway corridor, it seemed to open up into a big living space.

Suddenly, your mom began to wiggle her finger at the bag he was holding limp in his hand, and for a moment, Wonwoo had even forgot it existed. She sipped from her gradually disappearing wine again, her words sounding muffled as they fogged up the glass.

“Is that a gift I spot in your hand, dear?”

“Oh, yeah,” he answered.

Flattening a palm over the intricate jewel necklace glittering down her chest, your mother fawned adoringly, and Wonwoo’s stomach immediately dropped knowing it wasn’t her gift at all.

“Gosh! You shouldn’t’ve!”

“Uh, a-actually, it’s not—it was—I got this for your daughter.”

His gut twisted, watching the excitement and gleam drain from your mother’s face, her smile wiped away like an eraser to a penciled drawing. At least you had brightened up, though it wasn’t without caution, and Wonwoo wasn’t entirely sure what to say.

Straightening her spine, a grin then twitched unnaturally to her mouth. She was directly back into the wine for another drink.

“Well, that’s certainly thoughtful.” Wiping off her lips, she unnervingly held Wonwoo’s gaze for a brief moment, her eyes harder than diamonds. She then turned toward you, proceeding to gesture in a swirling motion with her finger at your face. “Sweetheart, if you don’t mind, could you take a few minutes to just fix your makeup?”

Your expression faltered, shoulders sagging.

“My makeup? What’s wrong with it?”

“Well, the lashes are lifting a bit. It’s not too noticeable in this dusky hallway but out in the proper light, everyone will be able to tell. And I wouldn’t use that shade of lipstick. Remember the tip I gave you? When we take photos that colour is not going to show well.”

“I do remember, yes. But I thought it could match with—”

“No but’s. These dinners are important for us, alright? Go fix.”

Wonwoo held his breath. In all his time spent getting to know you—your likes and dislikes, your pet peeves and oddly specific rules about the way things should work—the one cardinal sin was to never interrupt you. Even when he was fighting tooth and nail against you in his apartment, aching with hurt and bitterness, he didn’t cut you off once to get his word over yours. He doubted Mingyu had ever done it, and he was positive Seokmin hadn’t, either. To actually witness it felt somewhat like a crime requiring swift punishment.

Though, for all that Wonwoo was expecting in response to the rage that had just rippled across your face, there was nothing.

Because you’d choked it down like foul cough syrup.

He watched the fist unclench at your side.

“Okay,” you stated in surprising simplicity, “I’ll go fix it,” still with a sprinkle of attitude that your mother opted to ignore as she announced her trip into the kitchen to check the food.

The second she was obscured from view, a noticeable glisten of tears and exhaustion glimmered in your eyes, though you sucked all the emotions back with a deep, deep breath.

“Do you want to come with me, upstairs for a second?” You asked in a tight, shaky voice. “Unless you want to find Seokmin.”

Wonwoo shook his head. “No, I’ll see him later. Of course I’ll come with you,” he answered, smiling at you with all his tenderness.

He proceeded to follow you up a dimly lit staircase draped in a chocolate brown rug. The house looked quite small from the outside, hidden almost, by the inky night, but as Wonwoo accompanied you at the robust, wooden dresser kept against the corridor wall, he realized just how long the house actually was.

Your lower back pressed against the dresser, hands gripping the edges and fingers scraping the underside of the chestnut.

Wonwoo left the gift bag sitting next to an amorphous, black metallic sculpture that he couldn’t even begin to understand, then dusting off his palms and watching you shake your head.

“I mean, you’ve only been here for five minutes, and I’m already breaking out my seams,” you laughed, dabbing at a tear travelling too far down your cheek. “I’m sorry. I didn’t intend for it to be like this so soon and I’m not gonna force you to stay.”

“Stop saying that,” Wonwoo urged, tucking his hands into his pockets, “I told you I would come. I’m not going to abandon you.”

You paused, biting the swollen skin of your bottom lip.

“… Okay.” Looking down at the ground, you wiped your damp face again before hugging yourself. “She always does this… she always has something to point out. Nothing can ever be perfect for her. I’ve spent, like, all day, preparing myself, because that’s what she wants, and it’s still not enough. I don’t get it. I feel—” you sucked in a needy breath, pinching at your nose, “—I feel like I’m just some stupid doll she’s trying to perfect, but I never came perfect in the first place, so it’s all a big waste, and somehow, it’s my fault… I know I’m unloading and I’m sorry for that, too. This day has just been—I hate it. I hate these dinners. I fucking hate everything about them. I want to bang my head against the wall.”

Wonwoo smiled at you.

He untucked a hand from his pocket and reached for the clenched fist at your hip, spreading apart your fingers into his.

“Don’t worry about that. I’m listening, okay?”

Though your eyes were misty with tears and tiredness, you managed to return a frail little grin that was deeply sincere. Your hand tightened in his for a moment, and then you were stepping into him like he was a fresh blanket straight from the laundry. Fingers bunched up his suit jacket and your face was warm against his neck.

“I think it’ll be a little better tonight,” you whispered. “You’re the only one here who doesn’t make me feel like I’m going insane.”

Wonwoo passed up and down your bare back with his hand, admiring the softness to your pampered skin and the luscious scent of your hair, though he knew you had probably hated every moment trapped in the hot shower, exfoliating and shaving and scrubbing your body clean. He felt you squeeze onto him harder.

“Can I see what your gift is?”

“Oh, yeah…” he muttered, pulling apart from your heat, “it’s kind of a two-in-one thing. It’ll make sense once I explain.”

“That seems exciting,” you answered, returning to your lean against the chestnut dresser, folding your arms and smiling.

“So, um—if you remember the poker game—I owed you a pretty big lump of cash,” Wonwoo said, reaching inside the bag to grab a smooth, matte box, “and then there was the day at the museum, of course. Running home in the rain. You lost a shoe.”

“Oh my gosh, yeah…” you giggled fondly at the memory.

“I was at the mall—and, yes, I know. Why would I be at the mall when I hate the place? But I was getting my laptop fixed at that tech store on the third floor, and I also needed wires for my—okay. Never mind the rambling. Fuck, I’m turning into you now. Anyway, I walked past that one store you love and get pretty much all your clothes from. They had these heels in the window. The white ones, which you said to me are actually not white, but a very specific shade of ivory that I couldn’t see and still fail to see, to be honest. And they had that little bit of gold in the straps… but the point is—I got them for you.”

You glitched for a second, and it wasn’t until Wonwoo was basically pushing the box into your chest that you seemed to realize.

“Wait… you actually went to Rosette?”

He nodded matter-of-factly. “Yes.”

“Are you fucking serious?” Immediately, you flipped the box open and began flicking away the neatly trimmed cover of glittered tissue paper. “You got me the Gold Crystal Rope-Strapped and Ivory Ankle four-inch from Mirabella? Wonwoo! I-I was just talking when I saw them in the mall! I mean, you didn't have to actually get them!”

“I know,” Wonwoo answered, helping you pick the heels out from their imprints, “you’re always just talking, though.”

“Unnecessary.”

“To you.”

He was thankful you were too enraptured by the shoes to bother retaliating. Under regular circumstances, Wonwoo wouldn’t ever have been able to make such an expensive decision, but he still had some leftovers from winning the other poker matches at the party, in addition to a work bonus, and he knew that he still needed to repay you those favours even if they weren’t being held against him.

“They’re so freaking gorgeous,” you fawned, inspecting each heel like a jeweller would to their collection, “I can’t tell if I want to hit you or jump on you in happiness. I love them so much.”

“Well, I’m glad.”

“Oh my gosh, can you help me put them on? Pretty please?”

“Uh—yeah, ‘course.”

You gripped the edges of the dresser, slightly sitting on the surface as Wonwoo squatted down to your bare feet. He collected the first ivory heel and loosened the anklet buckle, proceeding to help slide the shoe on until it was fit perfectly. As he busied himself with loosening the buckle to the other heel, Wonwoo felt the ghost of your fingertips brush through his hair. In a spilt second, he froze, staring up at you, who was grinning back in utmost beauty.

“Just fixing your hair a little,” you stated innocently.

Wonwoo readjusted his glasses, nodding. “O-Okay.”

The action hadn’t felt that innocent, and as Wonwoo swallowed tight and continued sliding your ankle through the heel, he was overwhelmed with the most blaring, vivid, heart-hammering thoughts of smoothing his hands along each your soft thighs, pinning up the slippery silk to your olive-green dress, tugging aside your thin panties, burying his face and tongue so hot and heavy into your—

“Dinner will be ready in fifteen minutes!”

“Fuck,” you groaned, lolling your head back while Wonwoo finished settling the heel onto your foot, “just in case you didn’t connect the dots, that means we need to get downstairs.”

He returned to height, straightening out the sleeves to his suit jacket. For some reason, there was such an intense disappointment burning in his chest, as though his carnal thoughts were not just thoughts but an actual intent to pleasure you—which was completely ludacris given your friendship and the fact your boyfriend was probably downstairs—that had now been ripped away from him by the shrill pitch of your mother’s beckoning voice.

“Should I take the box—”

“It doesn’t matter.”

You grabbed onto his hand, tugging him toward the staircase.

“C’mon. Let’s get this shit over with.”

And Wonwoo followed, though he couldn’t help but note how you carefully dropped his hand upon rounding the corner into the kitchen, where Seokmin and Mingyu were standing about.

“Hey!” Seokmin exclaimed, pointing toward him. “Wonwoo!”

Expectantly, Seokmin looked like he belonged in a suit. That dark cherry red colour was rather fitting and only served to amplify the glow of his indestructible enthusiasm. Wonwoo awkwardly sauntered over to them, playing with the threads in his pockets.

Mingyu’s suit was more charcoal in tone, with his hair expertly gelled and combed. He mirrored a suave movie star as he leaned against the kitchen counter, sipping from his partly-filled wine glass.

“Uh, hey guys.”

You were hovering at the stove alongside your mother, talking in a hushed manner, while she stirred a large and bubbling pot of aromatic sauce, smelling like rosemary and perhaps cooked off vodka or some other alcohol. There was food everywhere—warm bread plates and fresh salad bowls and artistically painted casserole dishes covered by tinfoil. A window had been cracked open to help alleviate the heat swarming the kitchen, which Wonwoo could feel a little too uncomfortably in the air.

Seokmin grabbed at a couple crackers and cubed cheese organized onto a charcuterie board behind him.

“Don’t you clean up well?” He complimented with a big grin.

Wonwoo shook his head. “Not that well.”

“Hey—” Seokmin suddenly grabbed onto Wonwoo’s shoulder and pointed a finger at him, “—you’re here, alright? That’s an honour.”

Mingyu brushed the cracker crumbs off Seokmin’s suit.

“Don’t snack too much. She hates when you can’t eat.”

“Uh—I made this stupid board. I get to eat from it whenever I want. I’ll be fine, anyway. I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

Mingyu stopped tidying Seokmin’s suit, instead grabbing his wine glass off the countertop, sighing aloud, “that was a stupid idea…”

From the dreariness to his words and the slouch pulling down his shoulders, Mingyu didn’t seem to be all that excited or even half as chipper as Seokmin, though Wonwoo suspected that he knew the dinner parties to be a complete trainwreck. If Mingyu could hardly stomach a night with your parents despite all the stunning food and drink, then Wonwoo had no idea as to how he’d survive.

“So, um…” Seokmin lowered his voice, tipping his head close to Mingyu’s ear, “should we give him the rulebook?”

“Rulebook?” Wonwoo echoed.

“Uh,” Mingyu sipped quickly from his wine, “yeah, guess we can do that. Not in here, though. Let Her talk to her mom.”

“Easy peasy lemon squeezy.” Seokmin smiled, flashing a sly wink at Mingyu. “Hey, we’re gonna give Wonwoo a quick tour, alright!” He then called, his hand wrapping around the boy’s bicep, already beginning to tug him toward the hallway. “It won’t take too long; we’ll just show the bottom floor! Be back in a few!”

“Oh, uh, I guess that’s fine,” your mother replied while grabbing onto the pot handles with two tea towels, moving the sauce from the element, “but please do be quick! And, Seokmin—do you mind fetching the hubby from his office after you’re done?”

“I can do that, for sure,” he answered, smiling bright.

“Thank you, dear. I appreciate you so much.”

He was escorted out the muggy kitchen and down the corridor, flanked by Mingyu and Seokmin until they reached the living area where the piano music had been coming from.

Before he could issue even one question, Wonwoo was pressed down onto the red, very large-cushioned couch. Seokmin sat on the marble coffee table while Mingyu fixed himself onto the arm of a sturdy leather chair, crossing an ankle over his knee. Neither boy spoke for a moment and Wonwoo couldn’t help but feel a bit frightened as he listened to the elegant, soft piano tune fill the space.

“So… what’s the rulebook?”

“Well, it’s not an actual rulebook,” Seokmin corrected, “that was just for dramatics, allure, etcetera. But that’s what we call it.”

“We? You and Mingyu, you mean.”

Shifting in his place, Seokmin nodded, and his voice dropped an octave lower, "play the game long enough, you learn the rules.”

Mingyu’s chuckle dampened into the wine glass. “And there a lot of fuckin’ rules, that’s for damn sure,” he said with a scary smirk.

“But—we’ll just give you the crash course for now, as to lessen the overwhelmingness of what it takes to endure a dinner party.”

“Um, does Her know—”

“There are three principal rules; I’ll give them to you quick, so listen good,” Seokmin interrupted, leaning further into Wonwoo’s space, speaking quietly. “Rule one: do whatever the mom says, even if she doesn’t say it directly, or scarcely alludes to it. Makes everything ten times smoother, and gets her to like you, which is very important. Rule two: there is a guaranteed argument between Her’s mom and Her every fucking time—you stay out of it—never pick sides.

If you do get roped into whatever petty, passive-aggressive shame-fest they rake up, insert a compliment. Example: this steak is so tender and perfectly cooked! FYI—we’re not eating steak, so think of your own thing—and rule three: Her is like a freshly shaken can of carbonated soda and she can explode at any given moment. As her dear friends, and boyfriend, we have to make sure that doesn’t happen or else you’ll want to axe yourself.”

Wonwoo furrowed his brow heavily at Seokmin, noting a few crumbs left on his cherry suit from the cheese and crackers.

“How do we stop that?” He asked genuinely.

Mingyu proceeded to lower the nearly emptied wine glass against his knee, clearing his throat, “you don’t stop it.”

“But I thought—”

“It happens every time, without fail,” Seokmin answered, shaking his head, “but you can prolong it. You know, like cracking open the cap and letting out some air instead of the bottle fizzling into obliteration right away. The explosion’s not as big then. It’s easy. You just keep the conversation pushing. Don’t leave any space for bickering. Mingyu sometimes takes Her downstairs, or outside. To be fair, you don’t really have to worry about the last part.”

“Yeah,” Mingyu huffed, hardly amused, “lucky you, huh?”

“What happens if that fails?” Wonwoo asked.

Seokmin leaned back, tipping his head to the side. “Last year Her’s mom spent six hours braising these honey-garlic barbeque ribs with asparagus and stuffed potatoes. Guess where the food ended up by the end of the night? Because it wasn’t my starving mouth.”

“I don’t think I want to know,” Wonwoo sighed.

Bobbing his head approvingly, Seokmin smiled. “Exactly.”

“If these dinners are always such a mess, why do they keep happening? I mean, it doesn’t seem like anybody enjoys them.”

Fiddling with the thick folded cuff of his dress shirt, Seokmin shrugged. “I don’t know, to be honest. They used to a be a lot bigger in the past. Way more relatives and family friends. Just get-together's with a lot of food and drink and intoxicatedness. A way to maintain community and repore or something. But it’s shrunk down over the years. I still can’t tell if that makes it better or worse.”

Mingyu rubbed tiresomely down his neck, somewhat wincing as he massaged a sore spot. “It definitely makes it worse.”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Seokmin agreed, “it puts more pressure on the rest of us… anyway, I should grab ‘the hubby’ as per request.”

Snickering, Mingyu flashed his pointed canine teeth and raised the wine back to his lips. “Makes your skin crawl, doesn’t it?”

With an uneased laugh, Seokmin smirked. “Every time.”

As the boy disappeared down a dark hallway to the right of the large living area, Wonwoo assumed he and Mingyu might return to the kitchen as it was probably not the best idea—leaving you alone for too long with your nitpicking mother—but when Wonwoo began lifting himself from the plump couch cushions he was sunken into, Mingyu’s hand touched at his shoulder to stop him.

In an instant, trepidation surged throughout his body.

Wonwoo’s face had most certainly gone white, though the lighting in the living room was too warm and orangey to tell.

“I just wanna talk to you about something real quick,” Mingyu said, stretching forward to leave his empty glass on the marbled table.

“Oh—um, okay.”

When he thought about the past few months, Wonwoo realized he hadn’t even spoke to Mingyu since the blowout party back in June. So much had happened since then, good and bad. Wonwoo could only suspect that he was about to hear the worst talking-to in his life, though he attempted to feign the terror for casualness.

Mingyu swooped a hand behind his ear, brushing back his perfectly styled hair, and looked to Wonwoo almost… forgivingly?

“I know you and I haven’t seen each other since the party at Seungcheol’s. I know some shit went down between you and Her and that it really blew up and you guys weren’t talking for a bit. She said, like, it was something to do with the book she’s writing and you were having differences about the direction and it kinda exploded.”

Wonwoo prayed it was imperceptible, the gigantic breath of relief he fought to exhale without too much giveaway, knowing that you hadn’t told Mingyu the truth to the argument. He was happy about your work-around, though he didn’t know if it was… morally right… that you opted not to tell your boyfriend—the person you supposedly trusted most—one of your biggest miseries.

“Oh… yeah,” Wonwoo exhaled, “it got pretty ugly.”

Mingyu nodded. “I honestly don’t even know if she’s still working on it. She doesn’t tell me about it. I don’t get why it’s so fuckin’ important to her but… I digress. Anyway, like Seokmin said, you’re here now, so you two obviously hashed it out. She seems to really appreciate you as a friend. And—hey—it helps takes some of the weight off my shoulders, y’know? Girl’s a fuckin’ handful sometimes.”

Wonwoo swallowed, feeling increasingly uncomfortable with the conversation and the alcohol he was beginning to smell from the boy’s clothes. He understood the situation was stressful for Mingyu, that he might be teetering between things absentmindedly, yet he nonetheless questioned what Mingyu’s intentions even were with you.

“Well, uh… I really enjoy spending time with her, too,” he murmured as Mingyu reclaimed his emptied wine glass.

There was a strong grip on his shoulder, shaking it.

“You’re a good person, man. Seriously.”

Using Wonwoo as a support crutch, Mingyu heaved onto his feet, then proceeded to straighten out his charcoal suit jacket.

“M’kay, I’m going back to the kitchen. We’re probably gonna eat soon so don’t spend too long losing your head out here.”

“Yeah, got it.”

He watched Mingyu amble down the long and subtly aglow corridor, carrying his wine glass low at the hip until reaching the threshold to the kitchen. You had suddenly popped out, stumbling into him with a smile and some hushed words that were impossible to comprehend as Wonwoo sat alone, listening to the jazzy piano tunes from the record player. After nipping a quick kiss against your boyfriend’s lips, you entered the living room with a crooked head.

“What’chya doing out here?” You inquired, pressing a hand against the grand, wooden frame adorning the entry way.

Wonwoo grabbed at his knees while pulling himself up.

“Just a quick pep talk. And a fly-by of some rules.”

“Oh,” you chuckled, “Seokmin’s crash course, was it?”

“Yeah.”

“Sometimes I call him John Green just to piss him off.”

Wonwoo smiled, stepping around the marble coffee table. “I feel like that might serve to stroke Seokmin’s ego above all.”

“No, it starts to irritate him after a while. You should know at this point I can piss off just about anybody. Even Seokmin. It’s a talent. Though I don’t think it’s enough for me anymore. I want to start pushing people to rock bottom or I haven’t done enough.”

There was a teasing sparkle in your eye as Wonwoo approached you. He could smell all that deliciously cooked food from down the corridor and his stomach was certainly responding to it.

“I can get you there,” Wonwoo said. “Don’t stress.”

“Forgot to fix my makeup. Want to come with me?”

He agreed, and you began to guide him across the living room, swathed in all its expensive mahogany fabrics, obtuse looking vases, and jade-green lamp shades that reminded him of late-night study sessions at the campus library. You pulled him past a wide shelf that was organized with much smaller, glazed sculptures that caught his attention as they lowly glimmered in the mellow light.

“Woah,” he gripped at your wrist, stopping your swift walk, “someone in your family loves ceramics, I’m guessing?”

You ricocheted back into his side, then taking a few seconds to adjust some invisible flaws in your hair before responding.

“That’s just some pottery I did when I was younger.”

Wonwoo squinted at you. “Really?”

“Mmhm.”

“You took classes?”

Shrugging, you muttered a simple, “yeah.”

“Is that why you were so interested in that vase back at my apartment?” When you continued to stare at him blankly, Wonwoo cleared his throat and reiterated, “the red one? It was really round at the bottom, but the stem was tall and skinny. You really liked it.”

“Oh—yeah—sorry, it’s been a while since I’ve last been to your apartment. I don’t know if that’s why I liked it. Probably.”

He smiled at you inquisitively. “I’m surprised you never mentioned that to me, considering my landlord is a ceramics teacher. I mean, as you know.”

Your eyes seemed reminiscent and adrift, glancing from sculpture to sculpture—lopsided teapots, poorly shaped toadstools, crooked little spoons—there were a plethora of your small creations laid across the shelf, gathering dust and appearing untended to.

Wonwoo cleared his throat, hands buried in his pockets. “I just didn’t peg you as someone who liked getting their hands dirty. I suppose it’s different when you’re younger, though.”

Pursing your lip, you nodded. “Things are always different when you’re young. My mom used to use the spoons I made to scoop sugar into her coffees. But she doesn’t drink coffee anymore. Just wine.”

“Well, it’s nice she appreciated your effort.”

There was a beat of silence. Your expression twitched.

“I had to beg to take those classes, y’know?”

Wonwoo raised an eyebrow at you. “How come?”

Your arms folded, and you shrugged again. “My parents honestly saw it as a distraction. I mean, why let your daughter play with some clay when she can hardly pass her math tests. But there was this super artsy girl in our recreational class who always made the best teacups from the clay, and she would paint them so beautifully… I wanted to be able to do what she did. So I asked my parents again and again and again until they fucking gave up and found a pottery class to enroll me in. Although, I'm pretty sure they supposed I would drop it sooner or later. Like it was just an itch I had to scratch. It was in this little art shop that looked similar to your landlord's.”

He smiled at you. “Was your instructor a polish lady?”

“No, she was not polish,” your head shook as you swept some dust from the black shelf, rubbing your fingers together, “I remember that much, but I don’t remember her name. It was after a flower, though. Something too complicated for my eleven-year-old brain to retain.”

“Probably Chrysanthemum or some shit,” Wonwoo muttered.

You laughed at his comment, “probably.”

“… Well, you must have liked it. You made so much stuff.”

“Oh, I loved it. I mean, looking at some of this stuff now, it’s not that great. But I didn’t really care that much at the time.”

“Considering you were a child, it’s pretty damn good.”

Wonwoo felt your elbow dig shallowly into his ribs. “Don’t try to flatter eleven-year-old me,” you warned him. “If you would have seen the other girl’s creations, mine would turn from pretty damn good to: well, at least she tried something new!”

“No,” Wonwoo chuckled, “that’s dumb.”

“Honestly, there was so much stuff that I made. More than half of it’s not even on this shelf. There wouldn’t be enough space.”

“Shit. What happened to it?”

You pinched at the olive fabric of your dress, massaging the silk between your fingertips for a moment while examining each and every sculpture moulded and grooved by your tiny childhood hands.

“My favourite part was destroying it,” you answered.

Wonwoo narrowed his brow, “I don’t think I could do that to something I spent so much effort and time creating.”

“Yeah, and that’s all good and fine,” you reasoned, adjusting your shoulders, “but I just didn’t see it like that, I guess...”

Intrigued, Wonwoo smiled at you. “How did you see it, then?”

For a moment, you thought, staring off into space.

“Well, I just don’t understand why people are so afraid of things being ephemeral. When you’re an artist, or a writer, or a musician, I feel like you want to make something that will last forever, transcend eras, touch people for a lifetime, or, I don’t know—you want it to stay preserved, like when they embalm things. But I feel like there’s just as much worth and importance to the things that hardly last at all. I feel like there’s so much freedom and self-assurance in building something up and then crushing it down.

That’s what I loved about it. When the clay would explode from between my fingers and stick into the lines of my palms because I was squeezing it so hard—it just felt good. Like it was supposed to happen. Like I was letting go. It doesn’t have to mean I… failed. It doesn’t have to mean I’m good at it either… I guess I just want to enjoy things without the burden of having to prove I deserve to enjoy them. Why can't I just do it? Why can't it just be between me and myself, you know? Why can't I decide what to take from it?"

Wonwoo nodded at you.

Contrarily, that was the opposite to his own beliefs surrounding his art, and maybe even his life. Wonwoo could never let things go, nor was he sure when that quality had permanently wedged its way into his human nature. For some reason, Wonwoo saw the past memory where his older brother had scampered away into the bushes surrounding the public pool during that game of Lifeguard all those hot summers ago, leaving an adolescent Wonwoo to get dragged from the water and thrown onto the sun-scorched concrete as everyone watched.

He saw the fuzzy, white glow that beamed from his laptop left open in the darkness, sitting still with all those pages he wrote, and yet to be filled with the words that he could never string together.

Unlike you, Wonwoo had never figured out the mechanism to letting things go. Instead, he held everything—between his fingers, across his shoulders, on his tongue, under his skin, deep inside his chest. Hence, for a split second, he was incredibly jealous that it seemed you could live without weight. You were just a breeze.

And just like everyone else, you were still discovering yourself.

“Anyway. That’s my take on it."

"Why'd you stop? This seemed like such a big part of you."

You flicked your eyes around, shrugging. "Things got in the way."

Wonwoo wondered what things, though he didn't ask.

"But we should hurry. Dinner will be ready soon and my mom will flip if we’re not at the table in time. She interprets it as ‘we don’t care’ and that will open a can of worms nobody wants to see.”

You sighed, then grabbing onto Wonwoo’s arm to pull him down another mysterious, long corridor in your maze of a house.

“Oh, Mingyu, that’s brilliant! I’m so glad the interview went well! I had him slip in a good word for you, too. But I’m sure you put the nail in the coffin. Walking straight into a promotion, you know, that’s something so hard to come by. You’ll settle just perfectly.”

“Yeah, thanks. To you as well. That word went a long way.”

“Making the right connections is certainly key.”

“It is. But I’m just lucky, is all. Your daughter is the real key. She’s given me so much—you all have—I just wanna let you know how grateful I am. Seriously. You’re some of the kindest people.”

“Shush! Before I give you a lash from this towel. It’s been sitting under the potato tray so it’s nice and hot… I’m so excited for your future together. A real power-couple! That’s for sure.”

“Hm. Yeah.”

Wonwoo was pressed flush to the wall just outside the kitchen, simultaneously holding his breath while listening to the conversation between your mother and Mingyu as everyone was presumably sat around the dressed table. Your fingers were hurriedly ruffling out some wrinkles in his tie while you repeatedly cursed at both your tardiness, and he simply let you do what you pleased. After a half-second adjustment made to his collar, you wasted not an instant more—Wonwoo was suddenly thrust into the warm kitchen with you impatiently in tow.

As expected, everyone was sat and waiting. Even your father had been at last pulled from his study, and he was positioned at the head of the long dinner table while twiddling a fork around in his fingers.

Your mother had an elbow propped on Mingyu’s chair.

She was the only one standing.

“Quick,” you whispered into Wonwoo’s ear, practically shoving him down into the empty seat beside Seokmin, “sit there.”

Upon the nervous side-eye that his friend shot at Wonwoo, he suspected that he may have just wriggled his way into an unfortunate ticket straight to hell. You held up the flowy, billowing silk of your olive dress while making your way to the seat across from him and beside a very unenthused-looking Mingyu, who was evidently chewing on his inner cheek. Wonwoo caught Mingyu’s stare for no less than a second, and there was nearly enough electricity in the glance to make a crackle.

A few more dishes had been squeezed onto the table since he was last in the kitchen. Despite the fact there was only six people eating, nearly every corner and crevice of the table was occupied. Your mother had cooked enough to feed an entire party, unless she was planning on sending everyone home with tupperwares full of leftovers.

“Looks super delicious,” Seokmin complimented.

Mingyu nodded in agreement. “Smells even better.”

Wonwoo didn’t know if he was also supposed to throw out some off-the-tongue compliment and keep the train chugging. The atmosphere was just so heavy—everything felt like an extreme effort—he could hardly breathe without the sensation of his lungs itching, as though they were adorned in cobwebs. Unconsciously, he’d started picking at his thumb, his appetite disappearing by the second in place of dread.

“You boys are so lovely, thank you,” your mother commented, straightening out the orange tea towel in her hand while continuing to lean into the side of Mingyu’s chair. “This was all a labour of love.”

Seokmin flashed a picturesque smile that Wonwoo had seen many times before. “Well, I’m feeling the love. That’s for sure. Are we ready to dig in all?” Still, there was a bit of anxious haste in his actions.

“One moment, first,” your mother stated, pausing Seokmin in his reach for a large casserole spoon. Wonwoo clasped his hands together even tighter as she said, “we’re going to wait a few minutes more.”

You had pulled out your chair, but you didn’t sit.

“Mom, I was just fixing my makeup. That’s what you asked me to do. There’s no reason to make everyone keep waiting.” You removed the towel from her hand and laced it through the oven handlebar. “Just take a seat, okay? I’ll start making everyone’s plates if they pass them.”

She smiled at you. “Well, that’s a very sweet gesture. But it doesn’t take long to fix an unstuck lash or change a lipstick. You’ve got yourself a makeup chair. You should know better than anyone, my love.”

Wonwoo hated this—he hated the way your mother’s criticizing was buttered up nice with a practiced, insincere smile and a crooning voice. He hated the way Mingyu was pushing fingers against the knot in his stiff eyebrow like something horrible was about to happen. He hated the way your father was uncomfortably mute, sitting only with a pursed lip and folded arms in complete disinterest, like he’d rather be anywhere else. He hated that Seokmin was continuing to beam his signature-watt smile even though the air was dense enough to crush everyone flat.

You picked up Mingyu’s plate, presumably because it was the closest to you, and started slopping some hot casserole onto it. Every movement was autopilot, thoughtless, as the steam from the breached casserole rolled up into the air and shrouded you.

“I was only trying to make it perfect,” you muttered.

“Make it what?” Your mother questioned, staring you down.

“Perfe—”

“Stop mumbling, my love. I can’t hear you.”

Mingyu’s messy plate was collapsed back onto its placemat with a very loud thud, and you looked to your mother with utmost annoyance.

“I was trying to make it per-fect.”

She quirked her head. “And you needed Wonwoo to do that?”

Just as he ruminated—the universe had a fearsome penchant for whirlpooling him into the centre of everything and anything horrible, like his name was written in the water. Though, Wonwoo couldn’t say he was expecting to survive the dinner party unscathed. He tried to remember the quick spiel of rules Seokmin had relayed to him—was it better to get involved or just shut the fuck up? Wasn’t Mingyu supposed to do something? Wasn’t Seokmin supposed to keep the conversation pushing?

“Mom, please, just—I was showing him around, okay? He’s the guest. He’s never been over before. Wonwoo has nothing to do with us being a few minutes late to dinner. So just leave him be.” You removed the tinfoil from another bowl. Grabbing a wooden spoon, you started slapping creamy mashed potatoes onto Mingyu’s plate. “Trying to make something out of nothing… why can’t we just eat for once?”

“Honey, we could be eating, but you’re choosing to sulk.”

“I’m not sulking! I’m trying to help!”

“No, no, no. Mingyu’s plate looks like an animal that got squashed by a car. If you can’t even properly fix your future husband a nice-looking plate of food without pooling all your anger into it, then there’s an issue, there.” She shook her head. “A very big issue.”

Wonwoo could see your eyes burning.

Mingyu had then sighed, removing the wooden spoon that was clenched up in your hand like a weapon and slipping it back into the mashed potato bowl. The boy tugged a few times at your wrist, keeping his tired voice as soft as possible while imploring you to sit down.

“It’s alright, everything’s fine,” he said, probably to soothe himself more than anything, “all the food goes straight into my mouth, anyway. Same goes for all of us. Sit down, Her, alright? Please?”

“No,” you snapped your wrist free, “I don’t want to sit.”

In a desperate hope to experience some sort of consolidation amongst the tension, Wonwoo angled a glance toward Seokmin. When his friend wouldn’t look back and merely opted to keep biting his blistering lip, Wonwoo quite literally felt a meteor sink into his stomach.

Slicking a hand along his shiny hair, Mingyu sighed even deeper. “Please just sit. You know what’ll happen. Please.”

Again stepping away from Mingyu’s attempted touch, you began to shout, and Wonwoo’s breath froze as your voice echoed around the kitchen in a hauntingly similar manner to the quarrel at his apartment.

“I already said no!”

From the head of the table, your father pushed out his chair. His voice was oddly gruff when he spoke, like he hadn’t said a word all day and his throat was hoarse by consequence.

“Don’t shout,” was all he warned.

Your mother shook her head. “She will raise her voice when she doesn’t get what she wants.”

Wonwoo couldn’t help but feel the cut from her disappointed eyes even though she wasn’t even looking at him.

“I’m raising my voice because you’re not listening! You haven’t listened to me all fucking day! Oh my god! It’s eating me alive!”

In an instant, Mingyu was to his feet, almost trying to court you into the corner by the open window with his hands that you battered away. Wonwoo gripped onto his knees. He couldn’t choke out a damn word and Seokmin seemed to have become stiller than stone.

“Calm down,” Mingyu urged, “take some breaths.”

“You still won’t listen!”

“I’ll listen later, I promise.”

“Mingyu, do you even hear yourself?!”

“Just—you’re blowing this out of proportion again.”

“Stop trying to control me!”

“Calm down and—hey!”

With a frustrated groan, you squirmed away from Mingyu and rushed back to the dinner table where your mother continued to stare at you with such conflict in her expression, as though it was mentally taxing her to compute how such a seemingly perfect, established daughter could simultaneously appear so unraveled and incomplete before her. For a second, Wonwoo thought you might take the mashed potatoes or casserole and just completely drench the wall in their remnants.

But you didn’t do anything. Instead, you looked across the organized table—the vibrant food, sparkling drinking glasses, and expensive, unpopped bottles of alcohol—at Wonwoo, who had admittedly felt pretty useless and paralyzed throughout the ordeal. You looked straight into his eyes and he could see that you were almost physically begging him for an out. And, if he could see himself as an outsider, it was probably the same damn look he was giving you.

Wonwoo hadn’t even noticed the silence in the room.

Your father coughed, retrieving his utensils, ready to sweep the argument and very obvious hostility under the rug—put a small little bandage on a gigantic wound that had been festering for years.

“Same dance every time. Come sit, Mingyu. Let’s just eat.”

That would be nice, if Wonwoo had any appetite.

That would be nice if he wasn’t pushing out his chair, getting up from the table, keeping his gaze level and connected with yours, watching you swallow hard, hold back your tears, anxiously flex your fingers in a momentary contemplation and then—unprompted—run. Just run.

Wonwoo fled into the corridor with you right behind him, your hands kneading against his lower back as he threw open the door to the quiet, dimly lit front porch where that damp and black September night was ready to breathe him in and whisk you two away. He heard the very confused shouting from the kitchen, but there wasn’t any time to waste.

Wonwoo flew down the wood steps and splashed through a shallow puddle reflecting the moonlight, running toward the long street drifted in thinly strewn mist. He continued to run, only stopping for a brief moment to turn around and observe you quickly fling off your heels before scooping them up while everyone crowded onto the porch, yelling.

In your bare feet and a smile so pearlescent, you sprinted straight into Wonwoo’s outstretched arms, giggling aloud while he gripped your body firm and spun you in a circle that saw your dress twirl like a ribbon and your legs brush through the alive air.

Mingyu began stalking down the driveway, visibly angry, his face twisted into a snarl that might see Wonwoo getting split in his nose.

“Fuck, fuck!” You cursed, squeezing your fingers into his. He was suddenly being tugged down the empty, dark street, as though there was some invisible curtain for you to magically disappear behind. “Let’s go!”

Wonwoo didn’t mind one bit. Indefinitely, he would let you tug him over a cliff if it meant you two could fall together. The street was long and wet but the air was so fresh. Every breath he took was pure.

He didn’t know where you were going.

But he didn’t need to.

“Be careful. I don’t want you to step on something sharp.”

“I think I already did.”

Wonwoo pulled tight on your warm hand, stopping you.

“Seriously? Let me look.”

You made a slight huffing noise while sitting down on a large boulder, not caring that the surface was sandy and damp, forming a dark imprint against your olive dress. Wonwoo squatted down, looking at the dirty underside to one bare foot, and then the other, realizing there weren’t any cuts. He then used the cuff to his suit jacket, brushing off the small pieces of grit stuck into the skin in case he missed anything.

In all honesty, Wonwoo had no idea where you two were. After running far down the fancy Hillcrest Street until your family house was completely obscured into mist and memory, you led Wonwoo off onto a separate footpath by the treeline. Your fingers were slotted into each other’s. This was the first time Wonwoo had let go of your hand since running away, and the chilled air felt like prickles on his palm.

Removing the phone from his pocket to shine a light, he wasn’t at all surprised to see the missed calls and texts that had collected minute by minute from Seokmin earlier. You didn’t even have your phone. The only thing you carried was the ivory heels that Wonwoo gifted you at the start of the evening, which were still clutched in your hand.

“No blood. No lacerations. Just dirt,” Wonwoo said. “If you did cut yourself, you might not even feel it with all that adrenaline.”

You smiled at him. “Your phone a graveyard of Seokmin texts?”

He smirked, flicking through them all. “Precisely, yeah.”

Leaning backward on the boulder, you at last let go of the heels and stretched your arms out behind you, staring up at the moonlight patterning between the forest trees, their branches more barren as the autumn leaves came loose in the breeze. They fell down one by one, rustling softly whenever they hit the ground. He heard you sigh.

“Everyone there can go fuck themselves.”

Putting his phone away, Wonwoo smiled. “Yeah?”

“Yes.”

“That line’s a classic, coming from you.”

He attempted to sit beside you on the boulder, ignoring how uneven and rough it felt under his butt. Wherever you were along the footpath, it was perfectly hushed, almost felt hidden. The tree branches above him had framed the moon akin to a picture—except, he felt like he was the one painted, and that it was the moon who was watching him.

“I’m sorry.”

Wonwoo began to look at you rather than the night sky.

“Don’t apologize.”

You stared at him deeply, licking your lips and shaking your head. His eyes were now well adjusted to the scarce light. Just the silver through the trees was enough to read and inspect your pretty face.

“It went off the rails.”

He shrugged, staring back. “It seemed like it needed to.”

“I made you part of it.”

“I made myself part of it.”

“But, I mean—just—if you… if you never…”

Wonwoo raised his eyebrow. “If I never what? Met you?”

Puffing out a long breath, you looked down, picking at something on the boulder with a manicured nail. “… Yeah.”

“No,” Wonwoo was firm to correct, continuing to stare at you intensely even if you couldn’t face him in the turmoil of processing all the emotion and chaos, “you’re the best thing to ever happen to me.”

You lolled out your tongue, smiling and sheepish. “Blah.”

He laughed, “I mean it.”

Sighing again, you glanced back at Wonwoo, your eyes flickering along his every detail in the dewy night. Your hand reached out to his collar, making another brief, probably unnecessary adjustment to it before sliding the gentle fingers down his chest. Wonwoo’s mouth ran disgustingly dry in that moment, to the point that he was relieved when you removed your hand because you might have felt how fast his heart was beating and thought him to be quite pathetic.

Tightly swallowing, he brushed an itch off his nose and opened his mouth with a question, his gaze catching yours. Although, at the last second, he weened himself from speaking when the doubt found and froze him. A breeze tickled through his hair and Wonwoo shivered.

Your brow furrowed.

“What?” You urged him.

Wonwoo chuckled. “Fuck. Nothing.”

“Not nothing. Please. What is it?”

You were leaning closer into him, enthralling him with those earnest, gleaming eyes. He swore the nighttime wind was pushing your sweet, blossomy scent against him—was pushing you against him—because now your thigh was squished right beside his and your shoulders were warm together. Wonwoo adjusted his glasses, cleared his throat.

“Who are you?” He paused, but didn’t falter. “Actually?”

Your forehead wrinkled. “What do you mean?”

Wonwoo examined every aspect of your face that he had come to know so well over the months—the face he gradually couldn’t stop thinking about, to the point you would appear in his dreams. The face he was once completely disinterested in, because you were not someone that should have any reason to be in his life, just as he had no reason to be in yours. He felt his body move closer into your inviting warmth.

In fact, you two were so close that if he moved even an inch or few forward, then his lips might find themselves pressing to yours and his hand might settle and smooth up along your thigh to your cheek. Then, it would be impossible to leave the footpath without digging into you right then and there, kissing and tasting from you everywhere.

“What’s your name?”

It sounded like an obvious, warranted question that just about anyone would ask given the opportunity. But Wonwoo had never found himself wondering it. The things he wondered about you were much different and more character-driven, yet Wonwoo had come to realize that your name was just as important and precious and intact with your identity as everything else. He almost felt like it was the very last piece of you that he hadn’t shifted into place—his last chapter in a very long, complicated, topsy-turvy, seemingly-never-ending book.

Wonwoo thought you might laugh at him.

Tell him, “Wouldn’t you like to know?” in that very smug tone of voice he’d hear from time to time while smiling hot with your secret.

Instead, however, you just stayed silent.

His hand touched with fragile softness at the edge of your face, a thumb then stroking along the space before your ear as you swallowed.

“You don’t have to tell me anything you don’t want to,” he whispered, hearing the leaves rustle above him, “it’s fine either—”

“No, one second.”

Wonwoo bit his tongue, opting to watch you lean back while digging fingers into the cleavage of your dress. From somewhere—he could only surmise—you had pulled out a thin tube with a cherry lid.

“Was that the lip stuff you put on?” He snorted.

“Lip liner. With a sticky patch on it right here. Figured I should keep it close. You know, in case a crumb managed to remove a single spec of it. Can't have my mother passing out from shame.”

“Clever thinking.”

“Give me your hand.”

Stretching out his fingers, he let his hand sit in your lap while you pulled the lid off with your teeth, then gripping his wrist and halfway leaning down to push the tip of the lip applicator against his palm. The sensation was cool and smooth. He felt each letter you traced, though he refused to let himself guess until you were done.

Under the moonlight, Wonwoo raised the calligraphed hand to his face, pushing up his glasses as he realized—at last—the complete gist of who you were. And with your name came the understanding of what you were, in fact, doing in his very meaningless life.

Wonwoo kept staring fondly at his hand. But, as he was staring, you suddenly reached forth and smeared your thumb across the neat letters until they were lost. A memory made, and then covered.

Only between you.

When Wonwoo looked to you again, he saw everything about you so clearly that it was almost shining. Every decision you made, every word you said, the way you walked and dressed and flourished so openly before crashing so hard—Wonwoo could snap all those pieces into place.

“Can I ask you something?” You said.

He blinked at you absentmindedly, too caught up in his daze.

“Wonwoo?”

“Sorry—yeah?”

“Can I ask you something?”

“Sure.”

Pressing your knees together, the wind fluttered the fabric of your silky olive dress, and he could tell you were getting cold.

“When you were at my apartment, apologizing to me about our fight, that was the first and only time I ever heard you mention your ex-girlfriend.” Clicking your nervous feet, you looked over his shadowy face and the moonlight dancing in his glasses, “was she your first love?”

Crushing his hands tight into each other, Wonwoo bit his lip. “Yeah.”

Keeping your eyeline steady, you nodded. “Was she… like… what did you love about her?”

He almost couldn’t breathe. “Everything.”

You frowned. “Even the bad stuff?”

“Yeah…” he mumbled, “even the bad stuff.”

It was very quiet for a moment, with you simply sitting in reflection and staring into the dark silhouettes of the trees. He was sure you already knew the answer to your initial question, although he understood that hearing him say it was different than infinitely assuming about a past that wasn’t yours. Wonwoo had been in love before, and then heartbroken down into little fragments of himself that he spent months soullessly dusting around. And somehow, he was in love again—a new love that felt so much different but still fit him so right.

“Hm…” you hummed.

Wonwoo placed his hand on your bare back, beginning to sweep his fingers up and down, sensing your skin quiver in response.

“It’s late,” he whispered, nudging his knee into yours and warming your ear with his breath, “I know you don’t want to go home, and that’s alright. I get it. But we should figure something out before my phone battery dies, yeah?” He proceeded to grab your hand and squeeze it. “I don’t wanna leave a pretty girl like you out in the cold and wet.”

When you looked at him, you were pouting, exhaustion shining on your face like the dew in the moonlit leaves. “I don’t want to go anywhere without you.” Your fingers gripped his impossibly tighter.

“Do you want to stay the night at my place?”

You snuggled your head into the crook between his jaw and shoulder, wrapping your arms around his elbow to hold him close. “Yes.”

“Well, I’ve got one call,” Wonwoo sighed, fishing out his phone and squinting against its lurid light, “better hope he fucking answers.”

Vernon was confused to say the least, beckoned down a random street at near midnight when he could be in bed with the girl he was happily feeling up just half an hour ago, until a certain phone call ruined it. Wonwoo could tell from the manner in which his friend’s heavily furrowed brow remained creased when he opened the vanilla Camry’s back door, allowing you to slide in first with your heels in hand while Wonwoo followed. Tugging the door shut, Wonwoo could then only smile at poor, disgruntled, face-studded Vernon who was continuing to inquisitively stare him down through the rear-view mirror as though there was something smeared across his cheek or stuck in his hair.

Perhaps it was the patches of dampness and dirt on Wonwoo’s suit and your once very elegant dress, but it didn’t matter anymore.

“So… uh… dinner went well, then?” Vernon asked in a big huff after no one offered to break the silence, slightly turning his head to analyze the backseat using his busted, buzzing ceiling light.

Wonwoo and you were pressed together. Both unreceptive.

“Woah. Stop talking over each other, guys,” he joked dryly.

“Couldn’t have gone better,” Wonwoo decided to say.

“… M’kay…” Vernon replied, still perplexed but probably sensing it was best to save all the questions for later. “Music?”

Wonwoo nodded and turned off the ceiling light. “Sure.”

That was the beginning and end of the conversation.

Vernon pulled out from Hillcrest, keeping his elbow against the half-opened window during the drive, meanwhile you were allowing your heavy eyes to at last flutter shut. Leaning your head against Wonwoo’s broad shoulder, he noticed that your fingers were playing with his—you had gently grabbed his thumb and started rubbing his pigmented scar in absent circles, massaging into all the weathered years spent scratching himself until his anxiety would peddle away. The lip liner was still smudged against his palm in a cherry-tinted blur that he never wanted to wash off.

Smiling, Wonwoo let his cheek sit atop your hair, sensing the delightful breeze from Vernon's window flow into the backseat.

He was glad he went to the dinner party.

“Here are the keys. This copper one here is for the shop. This blue one is my apartment key. Go inside and get warmed up. I’ll join you in a few, alright? Promise… be careful on the steps,” Wonwoo instructed after opening the car door, proceeding to wrap his keychain in your fingers once you had emerged into the wind and sodden air.

With the white heels strung through your arm, you nodded at him sleepily and walked up the three little stairs to the pottery shop.

After you disappeared inside, Wonwoo turned around and opened the passenger seat door, climbing back into his friend’s Camry kept stalled but running at the curb. At first, there was silence between them. They both gazed down through the illumination of the headlights washing out the empty street. Vernon then slid his hand off the steering wheel, letting it cascade through his messy black hair instead.

“Do I even wanna know what fuckin’ happened?” His friend asked, his head clunking back against the upholstered seat.

Wonwoo blinked down at his lap. He started to smile, feeling it creep along his mouth even though he knew how suspect it looked.

Then, Wonwoo chuckled.

“We ran out.”

He finally looked to Vernon, who was staring back with highly quirked eyebrows and a dropped jaw. After exchanging an incredulous glance with each other, the two boys were laughing and ripping apart the silence. Vernon crossed his arms, sunk further down in his seat.

“Never would I picture you doin’ that…” he said through a lazy grin, “runnin’ out with another dude’s girl is insane, can’t lie.”

Wonwoo rubbed a palm along his cheek, still fucking smiling. “Think he’s gonna beat my ass?”

Vernon stared at him, deadpanned in his expression. “Is that even a question, Glasses? I’d beat your ass. I don’t even have a girl.”

“I don’t care.”

“If he beats your ass?”

“Yeah.”

Suddenly, a hand was pushing against Wonwoo’s shoulder. Vernon was smirking at him hard, teething over his bottom lip.

“Damn. She’s got you by the scruff, huh?”

Wonwoo shrugged, beginning to shake his head. “You should see the way he treats her… there’s some weird ties between him and her family. I think he’s playing the long game… getting what we can while he can and then parading her around as a trophy or something. But she's miserable with him.” Running a thumb along his knuckles, Wonwoo grinned. “He can beat my ass if he wants to.”

Vernon clicked his tongue. “Well, just to float the idea, I’m s—”

“No,” quickly laughing away his friend’s questionable response, Wonwoo merely rubbed under his glasses and refused. “I’m not trying to get locked away for first degree murder. And neither are you.”

“I’m just tryin’ to say I’ve got you is all,” Vernon said with his usual nonchalance, as laid back as an ironing board, “but—you’re right. Save that for when I’m an actual drug lord. He’s not gettin’ anything from me. Not even a Flintstone gummy.”

“Well, I appreciate the favour. Sorry to interrupt.”

“Nah, I could tell it was somethin’ important,” Vernon excused, giving Wonwoo a comfortable smile, “s’not like I can’t ever get brain again. Your situation seemed like a once-in-a-lifetime thing.”

Looking back at the pottery shop and the single light within keeping everything aglow, Wonwoo wondered if you made it into his apartment okay. He was worried about leaving you on your own for too long, especially when taking into consideration the extremities of the dinner party (that hadn’t really been a dinner or a party when he thought about it). Rolling out his shoulders, he turned to Vernon again.

“She needs to eat something. I’ll order food. You want any?”

Vernon scrunched his face. “What—you’re askin’ me to come inside with you two? I’m not on real good terms with her, y’know that, right? Just ‘cause she’s fuckin’ with you doesn’t mean that for me."

“It won’t be like that.”

“How do y’know? You guys gossip about me?”

Wonwoo smiled, pushing up his glasses. “I just know.”

Vernon paused to think for a moment, his hand returned back to the steering wheel while sharp teeth pulled at the skin along his bottom lip. With just the edge to his face streaked in yellow light from the outside street lamp, it was difficult to interpret his mindset, although Wonwoo knew it was a done deal when Vernon removed the glittering keys from the ignition and the rumbling car at last went silent along the empty midnight street.

Besides, Wonwoo would pay for it all, anyway.

Vernon quietly trailed behind Wonwoo into the apartment, the front door left unlocked and the living area bathed by the warm-coloured light fixture but absent of your presence. His friend placed the car keys onto the coffee table with an uncharacteristic softness, and Wonwoo figured that Vernon was probably still feeling uncertain about spending time with you—which made sense—the last time Vernon had spoken to you (spoken probably wasn’t an accurate word) was the confrontation at the gas station where he feared you might light his hair on fire.

Though, when Wonwoo poked open his ajar bedroom door, he found you standing near his desk, peering across the walled corkboard and all its pinned photos from his life back in South Korea.

He flicked on the light, pulling out the deep blue darkness from the air, and smiled at you.

“Everything alright?”

With your arms folded, you seemed smaller than usual. “Yeah—sorry that I came in here without permission.”

He was quick to shake his head. “No big deal—you don’t need permission.”

You were silent for a few seconds, grinning to yourself, and then gestured to one of the glossy developed photos stuck to the cork.

“That’s Bohyuk?”

Wonwoo nodded, “yeah.”

He realized you hadn’t spent much time in his room over the months that you’d known each other. For the most part, Wonwoo would always be at your apartment, or some unique location necessary to your story-telling when he was still helping with the book. At one point it would have perturbed him to see you gazing along the finer details of his room so curiously. Now, however, he welcomed it.

Stuffing hands into his pockets, Wonwoo let you observe the corkboard, watching you with a very amorous, kind smile that he hadn’t even processed until his cheeks started flaring with a heated ache.

“Wonwoo?”

“Yeah?”

“… I’m hungry.”

Unable to flatten out his smile, Wonwoo walked over to you and smoothed his hand along the side of your face, then caressing his thumb underneath your twinkling eye and against your cheekbone.

“I know,” he murmured, “I’ll order food.”

“Chinese?”

“If that’s what you want, then I’ll make it happen.”

Delighted to see your expression brighten, Wonwoo at last removed his hand from your skin. He knew he shouldn’t touch you or look so fucking pathetically in-love into your eyes, but he didn’t care.

“Do you think I can shower? I want to take all this makeup off.”

“Yeah, of course. Go for—”

Suddenly, from the living room, there was a loud bang that distinctly sounded like Vernon plowing straight into something heavy.

“What was that?” You asked, covering your mouth.

Wonwoo chuckled, “Vernon. Hey—you alright?!”

“All good!!” His friend shouted back. “Just—how ‘bout don’t keep your fuckin’ weights right beside the couch, yeah? Almost broke my fuckin’ foot!”

“Oops.” Wonwoo shrugged very unapologetically, staring into your amused eyes and giggling together. “He’s gonna eat with us… he did a big favour coming down to get us and everything, you know?”

“That’s okay,” you answered, “I just want to shower.”

“Yeah, that’s fine. I’ll give you the room. Wear whatever you want. I’ll just take the keys so I can lock up downstairs.” He was nearly on his way out, but stopped abruptly. “Should we… uh… should I at least text Seokmin and tell him you’re safe? I mean, just in case—”

“Sure,” the response was quick and muttered with little care, “I’m sure they can surmise where I am, but you can do that, too.”

“Yeah, okay… well, I’ll leave you be. Food will probably be here by the time you’re out and dried off. I’ll make sure it doesn’t get cold.”

Finally, Wonwoo clicked his bedroom door shut. Keys in hand, he re-entered the living room to find Vernon plumped down on the couch with a pillow in his lap, all spread out like he owned the damn place, texting away on his phone. Wonwoo laughed as he walked by.

“Writing out your apology letter?”

“Somethin’ like that…” his friend mumbled, clearly more focused on his pixeled screen, “I might not be gettin’ that head after all.”

“Life’s all about sacrifices,” Wonwoo sighed while opening the front door, pausing briefly to mention, “we’re getting Chinese food by the way. She didn’t care that you’re staying. Anything you want?”

Vernon smiled while keeping his eyes trained to the phone. “No way. That’s a relief… n’yeah—I like the chicken balls with the sweet and sour sauce. Pork-fried rice is good, too. I’m not picky.”

“Noted.”

“So—wait—I have to ask, and you can tell me to fuck off if you want, but how did you become a drug dealer? Like, at what point did you even realize that was your… I don’t know… calling?”

Sitting cross-legged on the carpet with a carton of noodles in hand and a napkin splayed upon your bare lap, pointed chopsticks were being angled at Vernon from across the coffee table. He took a sip from his can of bright red soda, placing it back onto the coaster with a thud.

“Uh, fuck,” Vernon coughed, smiling subtly while beginning to pick through his own personal container of pork-fried rice, “well, I can answer it, I guess… do I get to ask a question in return?”

You grabbed the napkin, wiping off the sauce from your mouth.

“I’ll allow it.”

“Fair enough,” his friend answered.

Wonwoo had heard the story only once before during a smoke session on the apartment rooftop, though he doubted Vernon would trudge through all the details. Despite seeming like an open book who couldn't care less, there really were some sweet spots he didn’t like having prodded. Nonetheless, Wonwoo thought it was a good, earnest opening between the two of you, so he opted to stay silent while pulling the meat off his ribs with his teeth.

“Uh, I was a stubborn kid, let’s say that. Tried my hand at school but I could never get the hang of it. Could never keep a job long. My parents caught me usin’ once, weed and ecstasy, and they said if it happened again, I’m out.” Vernon fed himself another forkful of rice, taking a moment to swallow while you listened intently. “I thought I could keep it straight, but no luck. Yeah. They had no tolerance for it. I was out the next day. My mom was the most pissed, but she tries to reach out every now and then. I dunno... I feel done with ‘em, if I'm bein' honest. I’ve got somethin’ that works so I just run with it. The money speaks for itself so I can’t complain.”

As Wonwoo expected, it was the heavily watered-down version of everything that happened between Vernon and his family, however, it was enough to paint the picture. Taking a moment to slurp up some spicy noodles, you soon set the carton down and patted along your gradually swelling lips. The crumpled napkin was placed on the table.

“Yeah, I bet the money speaks for itself. You’ve got a bunch of stupidly rich university students on your roster. They go through just about everything they can get their hands on. It’s fucking insane.”

Vernon propped his elbows onto his knees, gathering more rice onto the plastic white fork while smirking at you knowingly.

“You’ve got that coke sniff, y’know?”

Wonwoo widened his eyes at Vernon, suspecting a wildfire.

But you merely shrugged, quite honest in your response.

“I know. I did it once with Mingyu, some friends, and I thought never again…” with a sigh, you massaged at your shoulder, staring off into a random spot that Wonwoo couldn’t pinpoint. “Mingyu was getting it for me at almost every party we went to. I don’t know. I thought, since he paid for it, since it’s right here, I might as well do it.”

Slipping the fork out from his mouth, Vernon grinned. “Coked-up sex is crazy. Especially when you've got the right cut. It hits.”

“Vernon,” Wonwoo immediately chirped at him while setting down his emptied container of food, his voice sounding particularly stern, like he was scolding a child for making an ignorant comment.

“What?” His friend laughed, raking a tattooed hand through his loose and shiny black hair. “It is. Feels like you’re on another planet.”

“Yeah, whatever. Just think a little before you speak, please.”

Again, Wonwoo was surprised to see your nonchalance.

“It’s okay. I know what you’re saying. I think… like… Mingyu only wanted me to have it for that reason—I’m making it sound like some non-consensual, pressured shit—it’s not,” you muttered, waving around your hand in dismissal, “I just… the thing is I don’t like how I feel afterward. But it was never enough for me to say that I didn’t want it. I liked that it would take me out of my head for a bit. My mind would stop running on overdrive.” Then, you pulled your knees up to your chest, wrapping your arms around them. “The last time I did anything like that was the party at Seungcheol’s, though.”

Whenever the party was mentioned, Wonwoo would always bite down on his lip and tightly curl his fingers. He had discussed it with you in the past, beyond the summer evening spent at your apartment with a red velvet cupcake in between you and a painful, aching hug he could still feel all the warmth and regret to.

There were long, long phone conversations. And somewhere, stuffed in his mind, was the memory of you and Mingyu behind the door as he listened to every little sound—skin hitting skin, the desperation in your voice, wood smacking the wall.

“Yeah, is what it is,” Vernon replied. He pulled a toothpick out from his pocket and stuck it in his mouth. “Do I get my question now?”

“Uh… sure.”

Wonwoo had almost missed you staring at him. There was a concernedness to it, but when he smiled back you seemed to breathe.

“Still think I’m a gigantic fuckin’ tool?”

Immediately, you started laughing. Wonwoo followed suit, on the brink of embarrassingly blowing out the soda he just sipped from in a big spray. He was actually quite relived that Vernon had picked a more light-hearted question rather than something intimate. His friend swirled the toothpick around with his tongue, continuing to smirk in confidence.

“Giggle away. I’m curious, is all.”

Kissing your teeth, you held Vernon’s coppery, honey eyes. “You are a tool, one-hundred percent… but, I think you know that about yourself. And, um, you’re a good friend to Wonwoo. So… I guess my opinions about you have shifted. Appearances are deceiving.”

Pleased with your candour, Vernon grabbed his drink, leaned against the recliner behind him, and nodded his head approvingly.

“That tickles my fancy well enough.”

"Don't you think you'll want to settle down eventually?" You asked.

Vernon scrunched his eyebrow. "What?"

"Like, what if you find a girl. A really nice girl who could change your perspective. Do you think you'd want to settle down?"

With a quick laugh, Vernon shook his head. "Nice girls don't use half their last pay check to buy drugs. It's business at the end of the day."

Seeming skeptical, your eyes narrowed. "Right..."

"Vernon has his mind set on very specific things," Wonwoo smiled.

Straightening out the large shirt that draped around your frame—another garment belonging to Wonwoo that you had pulled from his dresser—you glanced between each boy and smiled.

“So... now I'm curious. How did this unlikely pairing meet?”

As Vernon was busy with navigating his toothpick, Wonwoo decided to tell the story, prompting him to sit up straight and alleviate his spine from being crooked against the hard bottom of the couch.

“I was convinced into attending a little New Year’s Eve party thing by these guys I don’t talk to anymore. Spent about half an hour wandering the halls, doing aimless laps, hating every second of it, debating if I should just take off. Not like anyone would notice. Then I bump into this guy—” Wonwoo nodded at Vernon, “—who was all tattooed and pierced up with this girl all over him. She was on the kitchen counter, one hand gripping his bicep while she was laying hickies to his fucking neck from behind.”

You snorted, rolling your eyes. “Who was that?”

Wonwoo shrugged. “Fuck if I know. Vernon?”

“Uh—I don’t know if I remember, honestly. She used to buy poppers off me like every damn week so I called her Poppy. That’s not her real name, though. She’s long gone. Moved cities months ago.”

“Yeah, well, he told me I looked like a lost ghost. Asked if I wanted a swisher. I agreed for some reason, and we went out back.”

Brushing a hand down your neck, you giggled. “A lost ghost?”

Vernon nodded, folding his arms.

“Yeah. Glasses always used to have that look to him. Dead man walkin’ kinda thing. Just wanderin’ around with no purpose.”

Wonwoo hoarsely chuckled at his friend, “jeez—thanks.”

“You can’t deny it.”

“I know. But to be fair, I was fucking going through something.”

“Mmhm, that’s why I took you under my wing,” Vernon sang, his eyes swimming with their usual gold-tinted mischief, “I could just tell you needed some guidance. Gave him the swisher of eternal friendship.”

“Is that what you call it?” Wonwoo huffed sarcastically.

“I call it many different things.”

You smiled sweetly at Wonwoo while your fingers played with the long cuff on the borrowed t-shirt. “Whatever it was, I guess it turned into something pretty good... and, Vernon, I am sorry for how I acted at the gas station. There was just a lot going through my mind.”

True to his casual, untroubled nature, Vernon swung his head dismissively while letting an arm collapse across his knee, the toothpick now in his hand and being spun between his ringed fingers. “No, you’re good. Don't worry 'bout it. It was just ‘cause you care n' shit. I get that.” Quirking his expression in an endearing manner, he proceeded to flash you a solid grin. “You didn’t singe my hair off so, I’ve got no grudge.”

You laughed, “I wouldn’t have actually done anything to you.”

“Eh, it’s hard to tell, isn’t it?” Vernon answered in a smirk.

Reaching for your drink, you sipped from it and then snuggled the can between your criss-crossed legs. Wonwoo examined that very intriguing smile opening its way across your mouth like a spring blossom, wanting to know the exact moment that sparked it.

A quiet pause passed, and then you were sighing with bliss behind it—that relaxed kind of sigh when everything seemed to click.

“It’s nice hanging out with you guys…” you murmured, staring across the coffee table scattered with ripped-open sauce packets, empty cardboard containers, wood chopsticks, and unfurling napkins. “It just feels lighter… I don’t know… making friends has always been so tough for me. The right friends, I mean. Friends that actually feel like friends.”

Wonwoo pinched his lip in his teeth.

“It can take a while before you hit the right people.”

Vernon shrugged, concealing a burp that had him rubbing down his broad chest. “If we’re all friends, then we’ve gotta be the weirdest fuckin’ collaboration of people I’ve ever seen.”

You snickered into your hands while Wonwoo lounged an elbow onto the couch to help prop up his head, rolling his eyes toward Vernon.

Though, Wonwoo could easily understand what Vernon was getting at. You, a popular and high-fashion campus honorary who at first glance seemed to have very little patience for anyone but yourself, followed by the guttural and unbothered drug dealer without a care in the world, beside an anxiety-ridden hermit just trying to exist and somehow not turn to a puddle in the process. Vernon was right—it was a strange grouping of people suckled together despite their completely different paths and choices. Somewhere, somehow, though, there was a connection.

Like a fated string weaving everything into a knot.

Since Wonwoo had already ordered the Chinese food fairly late, it was quite difficult to find an ice cream place in the area that was open past midnight. Vernon and his sudden craving for cookie dough had offered the idea, and you easily caved, which led Wonwoo on a spiral of searching through his phone. Unfortunately, the only ice cream they could order was vanilla soft-serve cones from a twenty-four-hour fast-food chain which arrived to his apartment dripping. But no one really cared, and Wonwoo threw on the television for some background noise.

The conversations lasted until about two in the morning.

Vernon had not so gracefully taken up the entire couch, his face shoved into the embroidered pillow, an arm left dangling limp over the edge, and a smear of soft-serve dried to his cheek. You and Wonwoo were sitting side by side on the floor, a blanket spread around your shoulders with your knee spilled onto his lap, attempting to finish up the random movie that he couldn’t even remember playing. When the credits began rolling, it took him a moment to process that the drama flick was even over. Your head was tucked against his shoulder, eyes shut but still twitching against the dull, meek light flooding from the screen.

He placed his hand on your bare thigh, fingers stretching eager over the warm and soft skin to carefully grip it and give you a squeeze.

Then, with his lips feathering at your forehead, he mumbled your name to get you awake. Wonwoo did feel somewhat guilty about stirring you, but he’d rather you have a comfortable sleep on his bed than the living room floor. He continued to rub your thigh nice and slow, watching your eyelids flicker open and squint at him through the dark room. There was a shallow grin that you gave him, full of contentment.

“You’re all fuzzy…” you yawned, proceeding to rub at your eye.

“It’s late,” he answered quietly, almost whispering, “I think I should get you to bed. You’ll be much comfier in my room.”

“Is Vernon asleep?”

“Mmhm.”

Turning back to glance at the couch, you yawned again.

“… Oh… so, we’re going to your room?”

“Yeah… c’mon, I’ll help you up.”

Wonwoo didn’t turn on the light in his bedroom since there was already a small separation in the curtains, allowing just the right amount of moonlight through to outline everything around him in bluish-silver.

You sat down on his bed, letting your fingers travel along the sheets to feel all the slight rumples and divots, only to look up at Wonwoo with a tired smile and sincere, blinking, gorgeous eyes that felt akin to a gut punch. As much as he wanted it—needed it—Wonwoo knew that he couldn’t sleep next to you. He couldn’t trust himself. He couldn’t fathom having you so fucking close in the intimate, cocooning darkness and not being able to squeeze his cold hands along every perfect part of you.

But you weren’t making it easy.

In fact, you were making it excruciatingly hard.

“Are you not going to lie down with me?”

Wonwoo felt the twig snap in his chest. You wouldn’t stop staring up at him through those wispy eyelashes and nibbling on your lip.

“I’ve got the recliner in the living room…” he could hardly choke it out. There was so much heat in his body that he could melt.

“Why sleep there? The bed is big enough.”

His deep voice twisted into a laugh he couldn’t avoid. “Yeah, the bed’s not the issue… uh, it’s fine, though. The recliner’s nice.”

He took a step back, but then you had grabbed his wrist.

“Wonwoo,” you said his name in a tender, breathy, desperate sort of way that sent his heart shattering to his feet, your eyes glistening through the sparse light like two comets, “I don’t want to sleep alone.”

Fuck—it was all he could think—fuck, fuck, fuck.

With your fingers still wrapped to his wrist, Wonwoo pushed his hand gently against the side of your face. He was closer to you now, applying a soft pressure to angle your head up at him. You were breathing thick per every second that passed, holding his eye contact without one fracture, smiling arch. Wonwoo wanted to drink you.

Leaning into his palm, you swallowed and squeaked, “please?”

His thumb was on your chin. Right under your bottom lip.

“Fuck, you can't look at me like that…” Wonwoo rasped in a low, hushed voice that was struggling not to crack.

Truly, he meant it.

Your hand slid further along his wrist, almost tickling him.

“Ple—”

Immediately, Wonwoo pressed his thumb past your bottom lip and onto the ridge of your lower teeth, stifling that dangerous little word before it could hit his ear the wrong way and render him spineless.

“No more, okay?” He murmured, slowly sliding the digit from your warm, damp mouth, feigning obliviousness to your thighs clamping together and the manner in which your fingernails dug at his skin.

There was another moment of intense, humid silence while he wiped the wetness against the edge of your jaw.

“Seriously,” Wonwoo firmed up his voice, “no more.”

When you at last seemed compliant, nodding, Wonwoo let his hand drift from your heated-up face. You stayed in place, quiet as ever, on the edge of his bed, watching him disappear through the doorway.

As he collapsed onto the recliner and pulled the blanket once pooled on the floor over his body, Wonwoo didn’t even bother shutting his eyes or removing his glasses. Instead, he stared up at the popcorn ceiling, letting his heart thump, thump, thump and his mind wander until he naturally couldn’t fight the imminent feeling of sleep.

It certainly didn’t help that you had wandered into his dreams—dreams that he should probably keep to himself, warped fully by desire and longing.

—END OF PART FIVE.

#seventeen scenarios #wonwoo scenarios #seventeen x reader #wonwoo x reader #seventeen imagines #wonwoo imagines #seventeen fanfic #wonwoo fanfic #svt fanfic #jeon wonwoo #svt scenarios #seventeen angst #seventeen smut

247 notes · View notes

cthulhu-calling · 1 year ago

Text

New Perspective

dark!Steve Rogers x Reader

Summary: What happens when you wake up in a bed that isn’t yours, next to a man who was supposed to have gone back to the past?

Warnings: dark fic, dead dove do not eat, kidnapping, smut, rape/non-con, l-bombs, friends with benefits

Author's Note: This is a dark Steve Rogers x f!Reader story. Sit this one out if it isn't for you. Please consider the tags before proceeding, this is your final warning, I am not responsible for the content you consume.

Word Count: 2,216

ao3 link

Steve Rogers Masterlsit

“You’re not coming back, are you?”

He looked down at his feet, not able to meet your gaze. Slowly nodding his head, still not looking up, he reaches out to hold you in his massive, trunk-like arms and you let him.

You and Steve had always been close, even if he was quite cold and standoffish when you first met. What had started off as a simple and pure friendship had developed into something more dark and dirty.

In the day, he was your close friend and Captain but at night, he was your refuge. Nights spent with hot, sweaty, limbs tangled in each other, rough fingers tugging at your hair as you drew pleasure from each other’s bodies.

Your arrangement was unconventional, sure, but it’s how you both liked it. No strings attached, just sex. You both had far too much going on to even consider an actual relationship with someone, so you helped each other out during lonely nights.

To say you would miss him was a massive understatement but you knew he deserved to be happy. Happy with the love of his life, Peggy Carter.

Pulling away, you gently cupped his cheek before brushing your lips lightly against his. “You deserve happiness Steve. I won’t hold this against you, but don’t you dare forget about me.” you whispered as you playfully narrowed your eyes at him, poking a finger at his chest.

He huffed out a laugh at your poor attempt at jest before pulling you close to him, searching your eyes for something more.

“Steve, I am happy for you. After all that you’ve done for the world, you deserve a chance at being truly happy,” you said, offering him a genuine and what you hope was a reassuring smile.

Looking lost, he gently nodded his head before pulling you towards the bed. One last time , you thought to yourself as you gave in to him.

One last time, or so you thought.

Steve hadn’t meant to fall in love.

What started out as a simple arrangement of friendly banter and arguments by day and animalistic fucking by night ended up becoming the most passionate affair of his lifetime, and that in itself was saying a lot.

You were the one for him. He knew it and he believed it was high time you realised it too.

But you? You were as clueless as they came. It was getting a little infuriating at this point, if Steve was being completely honest with himself.

It was cute at first. How you would act as if you didn’t realise that he loved you. He bought right into the whole faux innocence act and he would be lying if he said it didn’t make him achingly hard and desperate for you. To have you on top of him, your tight little dripping hole stretching to accommodate his thick length as you moan and mewl wantonly.

But even after months, when you failed to acknowledge how in love with you he was, it started to anger him. How you would have a flirty back and forth with Sam, or brush a perfectly manicured finger against a random stranger’s arm at the pub, bending over slightly while pushing your elbows together to give them an eyeful of your cleavage. All of it made his blood boil.

So he decided, he had to have you. No matter what.

He wouldn’t find a more perfect opportunity than this. Under the guise of going to return the stones, he had you believe that he wasn’t coming back, that he was going back to Peggy. Surely, that would make you insecure and you’d beg him to come back, beg him to not leave you. It was foolproof, he was sure of it.

But when he told you he was leaving, your reaction shocked him. You weren’t desperate for him to come back, begging him to stay back and vowing to do anything to please him. Instead, you were happy for him.

At first, he couldn’t believe his ears. Surely, you can’t be serious. Did you really not love him?

He was quick to dispose off that thought though. He was the love of your life and you were his. You belonged with him. To him. He figured that it was all an act, to hide how you truly felt. It was then that he decided to take matters into his own hands.

That’s how you found yourself in this predicament; groggy and confused, still half asleep in a bed that isn’t yours. Once you realise the bed isn’t actually yours, the bedding a baby pink as averse to the bright yellow of your own with every square inch covered by one too many pillows, you’re alert immediately. Where are you?

You push the covers off of yourself and just as you’re about to set your feet on the floor, the door at the left corner of the roughly rectangular room swings open, a smiling Steve stepping inside before shutting and locking the door behind him.

“Morning sleepy head. You’ve been out for quite a while now, almost had me worried there.” he sighed the last part, the eerily hopeful smile still glued to his face.

You looked around yourself, taking in your surroundings before looking back up at Steve. You were in a room with clean white walls, a huge bed in the centre of the room with two twin nightstands on either side of it. There were no windows, only the door through which he had entered and that too on closer inspection seemed to be made of thick metal, too heavy for anyone without superhuman strength to even try to budge.

“Where am I Steve? How are you still here?” you asked, you throat scratchy.

“C’mon honey, sit up straight,” he said as he moved closer to you, holding a tall glass of water to your lips.

Gulping down the water, you cleared your throat before asking again, “Where are we? How are you still here? I saw you leaving Steve,” you thought out loud, pushing the thick covers off of your body, suddenly feeling their presence suffocating, only to look down and find yourself in a ratty and oversized t-shirt and boxer shorts, both you were sure you’d seen on Steve at some point in time.

Steve took in your form hungrily, loving how you looked in his clothes.

“You need to relax honey. I’ll answer all your questions, but not right now,” he said as he gently pushed you back on the bed, tucking you in.

“No, I need you to tell me right now. What the fuck’s going on here exactly?” you said, throwing back the covers to move out of the bed but before you can blink, you’re pinned down by Steve’s body.

“I will not tolerate such language from you. You’re mine and you’re going to do exactly as I say, is that clear honey?” he said almost sweetly but you knew it was all an act to hide how angry he truly was. You saw right through his facade.

“Yours? Steve, the fuc-“ you cut yourself off on seeing his glare, “I- I uh, don’t get it. What are you on about?” you breathed out.

“No point in pretending anymore my love, I’m only doing what you were too scared to do. I know you love me, I just had to get you to admit it. What better way then a romantic little getaway. No phones, no one but the two of us,” he said in a sort of dazed voice while you just sat there, slack jawed and wide eyed.

“You-you, uh, you’ve lost it! You’ve gone absolutely mental! I don’t love you, and I’m sorry if I made you believe that I did but you need to let me go,” you said while pushing him back and quickly getting out of the bed.

He grabbed you by your hips, spinning you around and pulling you close so you were right against his chest.

“Stop acting coy, I know you want me just as much as I want you. Can’t you see? We’re supposed to be together, together forever. And while I won’t tolerate how you spoke to me just now, I’ll let it pass just this once.

“I know you’re stressed love, but you’ve got to accept it. You’re the love of my life. You belong to me. ” He whispered the last part slowly as his hands travelled down to the small of your back, grabbing your ass and squeezing it, making you gasp.

His lips attacked yours, swallowing all your protests as he slowly guided you back to the bed, pushing you down on it.

“Give me a chance to prove it to you, make you see how right we feel, together,” he mumbled as he peppered kisses down you neck and chest, occasionally sucking a dark mark, laying his claim on you.

“Mine, mine, mine,” he kept mumbling as his hand reached to tug down your shorts, deft fingers prodding at your entrance.

He rubbed his thumb in figure-8’s around your clit, drawing a strangled moan from you. Arms and legs giving up their struggle as you fisted the sheets, pleasure shooting up your spine.

“Please, Steve,” you moaned breathily and you knew not if you begged for him to stop or for more.

The cheeky bastard had the audacity to act innocent as he slowed his movements, “Please what, my love?” he asked and you could hear the smug smirk on his face.

“Let me go, please!” you yelled, struggling against his hold with renewed vigour.

Smack!

“Wrong answer honey,” he growled as he landed another smack on your bare pussy, making you yelp.

Easily pinning you down, he ran his fingers through your folds before collecting the wetness there, bringing his dripping fingers to your lips.

“Suck.” he ordered.

When you didn’t move to open your mouth, he pushed his fingers into the back of your throat, effectively choking you.

“Bad girls don’t deserve to be prepared beforehand, do they?” he asked condescendingly before he plunged his thick cock into your unprepared channel.

Immediately setting a punishing pace as his free hand grabbed hold of both your wrists, pinning them above your head. The sound of skin slapping against skin and the squelching of your drenched pussy only spurring him on.

“Look at you, dripping for me. You’re enjoying this just as much as me, aren’t you? And yet, yet you deny me of something that can only be right. We belong together, can’t you see?” he said with a low growl.

You moaned around his fingers, the shame of being close to your climax while he forced himself on you bringing tears to your eyes.

Letting go of your wrists, he brushed away your tears, driving himself harshly into your dripping cunt, “Don’t cry my love, don’t cry for something you can’t change. We belong together, and I’ll make sure you see it.”

Making true of his promise, he started pounding into you, deeper and harder, hitting the spot that made your mind go blank, not being able to focus on anything but the pleasure that only his cock could give, that only he could give .

You let out a sound somewhere between a moan and a sob as you came undone, clenching down hard on his cock, milking him.

Grunting as he emptied himself inside of you, he slowly removed his fingers from your mouth, bringing his lips to yours for a rather chaste kiss considering he’d been balls deep in you just seconds ago.

“I deserve to be happy. You said it yourself, my love. After all that I’ve done for this world, it’s the least I deserve. And we’re going to be so happy,” he mumbled into your ear, more for himself than you as he wrapped his arms around your waist tightly, keeping you close to his body as your eyelids started to droop.

Oh, whatever were you going to do now?

#dark steve rogers x reader #dark steve rogers #dark!steve rogers #dead dove do not eat #smut #love bombing #stalking #cnc kidnapping

682 notes · View notes

oh-meretseger · 9 months ago

Text

part 2 (of whatever this is) - Clean Freak

attack on titan modern college au // Jean Kirstein x fem!reader

notes: 18+! smut (there will be a lot more coming, I’m pouring all my fantasies into this fic lmao so bear with me), Jean being quite a pervert, fantasizing about oral, masturbation

word count: 3,4k

“You're gonna let Jean see you in THAT?!" Sasha yelled out suddenly, right after she promised to stay when Jean was coming over to your dorm to finally finish your project. You had to complete it by Friday, and it was already Wednesday, leaving you the most frustrated with Jean you've ever been. His immature approach to the whole thing made you question how he even got admission to college. The way he ignored all the work and instead kept stealing your notes, your glasses, he pulled your hair, poked his fingers between your ribs made you think he was actually a toddler in an muscular man's giant costume...

"Yeah, you're right, I can't show any surface of skin around that manchild" you glanced in the mirror, and quickly grabbed a pair of sweatpants to slide over the tight shorts that covered definitely too little. Your arms were already covered in bruises due to all the damn poking, pinching and suffering Jean put you through this week. You couldn't let him target your legs next.

Since that ominous day in the library, Jean was more insufferable than ever. You had a feeling that it had to do with the multiple seconds you were kneeling on his lap, pressed up against his chest and face... And the awkward, quiet minutes after that you spent trying to hide your blood red face. You tried to ignore the heat that spread through your body whenever that moment popped into your mind, because it just left you confused.

You also tried not to look Jean into his eyes after that, if not necessary, but you could definitely sense him get ten times more irritating since.

And working on that project with him became impossible.

But you guys finally managed to arrange you and Sasha getting a two-bed dorm room together, and it seemed like the perfect, most peacful place to finally finish the project. With Sasha being there, you hoped you both would detain from bullying the hell out of each other, and actually get the work done.

"Pookie, stop covering up, just let it happen" Sasha laughed, sitting on her bed while watching as your movements became nervous. You turned to her confused. "How long are y'all going to pretend you're not into each other?"

You blushed instantly and turned away, hoping she wouldn't see you getting embarassed right away. What is she talking about?

"Sasha-" you awkwardly searched for the right words to reply, and Sasha chuckled again. "Stop being crazy. We're not into each other"

"Sure, Jan" she replied raising her eyebrows, and you let out a giggle at the joke. Although you wanted her to know how much of an insane idea it was to think that you and Jean...

"He's a damn playboy, he probably has a roaster of girls from around the campus that I definitely wouldn't fit into" you said your thoughts out loud while folding the few pieces of clothes laying around on your bed. "He's an annoying idiot anyway"

"He doesn't have a roaster of girls, actually. But I see why you would think that" Sasha smiled as she watched your movements in the mirror. "He does seem like an arrogant jock, but I've known him for years. He's a sweetheart. And there's definitely something between you two, so stop denying it to yourself, missy”

You quickly turned your back to her while quietly smiling at her words. You hoped she couldn't see, but she chuckled as she caught a glimpse of the curve of your lips in the mirror. Sasha grabbed the pair of jeans laying next to her and started changing her comfy joggers.

"He does seem arrogant, and he makes me go insane on purpose" you frowned, putting the stack of folded clothes away to your closet. "But I've only known him for a few months, so surely, you know him better"

"I do, and he's great. And don't call me Shirley" Sasha jumped from the bed, trying to use the momentum to get her butt into the tight jeans, and you bursted out laughing as you turned to her.

Your smile faded rather quickly as you saw her changing her shirt as well, as if she was getting ready to go out.

"Where are you going?!"

"Oooh sorry, Y/N, I forgot I already made plans with Hisu to go out, we're getting froyo" her eyes sparked with pure joy at those last few words, and you felt yourself shatter, instantly starting to panic.

"NO! You promised you would stay!"

"I knowww, I really am sorry" Sasha pouted, and quickly grabbed her cute little crotcheted bag on her way to the door, as you both heard a loud knock. That pout was SO fake, you knew she was doing this on purpose... Whatever her goal was. "I'll bring you a cup of that blueberry one you like, I promise"

"YOU PRO-" you froze in your place as Sasha reached the door and it swung open, revealing Jean standing in the doorway.

"Hi, Jean!" Sasha looked up at him with the most cheerful, chirping voice, as if she didn't just betray you with this evil surprise of hers. Of course, she'd made no plans to go out with Hisu whatsoever, but she did miss her, and getting multiple cups of froyo sounded like a great afternoon plan. Besides, she did want to leave you and Jean to be in private, completely alone...

"Hi, are you not-"

"No, no, no, I've got EXTREMELY important places to be" Sasha cut Jean off as she grabbed him by his jersey, then yanked him through the doorway and into the room. You stood there in shock, watching her leave you, with him, to suffer.

"Sasha!"

"Bye, pookies!"

BANG. The door slammed shut behind her, and you two were left there, completely alone. Your eyes darted to him, and Jean adjusted the jersey on his chest that Sasha nearly ripped apart a few seconds ago.

He was clearly coming from hockey practice, you could tell not only by the oversized jersey he wore, but also by the way his hair looked. It was messy, a few ashy brown strands sticking to his temple, wet with sweat, although it seemed like he did try to quickly comb it back. His face was flushed, the skin on his cheekbones and nose dusted with a reddish tint, his lips plump and wet from the empty water bottle he held in his hand. Your eyes wandered to the stubble on his sharp jawline, fading down to his neck. The skin slightly glistened from sweat, the muscles creating lines of shadow as he raised his head...

"The hell's wrong with her" he murmured frowning, looking up to see you staring right at him. As the hazel eyes met with yours, the heat forming in your center turned into a definite warm, tingling sensation between your legs, and you felt yourself starting to melt.

What. The. Hell.

There's no way you're getting wet at the sight of this idiot, dripping with sweat, smelling like a boy's locker room.

"I don't know, she's in silly goose mode today" you quickly shrugged and turned your head to break the few moments of silence of you looking into each other's eyes. Jean held back a smile forming on his face, and he dropped his backpack on the rug next to your bed.

"Sorry for being late, practice lasted a little longer than I expected" he apologized, throwing himself on the end of your bed without a second thought. You instantly felt your stomach drop at the thud, and turned to see the most horrific sight you could ever imagine.

Jean's sweaty, dirty body laying on your clean, white bedsheets.

"JEAN!"

"Are you fucking crazy?!" Jean yelled out, half-laughing from the element of surprise, as he tried to defend himself from your immediate attack. You jumped on the bed and started pushing his body down with all the strength you could gather. "AGH, you're breaking my ribs, you rat!"

"Get off of my bed, you're fucking dirty!" you groaned as Jean put his big ass palm on your forehead, trying to get you off of him. An intense wave of anger fueled your effort to move the sweaty body twice as big as yours. "You're getting your sweat all over my stuff!"

"You should be grateful for any bodily fluid of a man touching your stuff" Jean laughed, and moved his palm to cover and smush the whole of your face, when you decided that pushing with your hands was not enough, and started bullying his ribcage with your knee. Your shouts were muffled by his hand pressed into your face, but instead of giving up, you decided to let your teeth do the talking for you. "AARGH!"

Jean's muscles lost their defensive tension due to the sharp pain of your teeth sinking into his palm, and taking adventage of his momentary weakness, you pushed him as hard as you could. His body rolled over and landed on the hardwood floor with a loud thud.

"You're fucking insane" Jean pushed himself to slowly sit up, examining his other hand that you injured with a painful hiss leaving his mouth.

"PTUH, did you not wash your hands after digging in dirt?!" you growled at him, trying to spit out the dirty taste his hand left in your mouth. But that's what you get for biting him, you guessed.

You frantically started brushing off your face when you realized, it was not only your mouth that Jean's dirty palm got smushed into, but also the precious skin of your face.

"Yeah, I jerked off with that hand after that, hope you like the taste" Jean scoffed at you, but the smug look on his face quickly turned into an honest burst of chuckle as he watched you stick out your tongue, trying to get him out of your mouth by the little spitting sounds you were doing.

"You're a prick"

"And you're clinically insane, but here we are" he replied, then pushed himself from the floor to stand up. You followed his actions, then stepped to your closet as you shook your head.

"Here" you threw your largest oversized t-shirt you could find in his direction, and he reached to catch it, followed by the clean towel tossed to his chest. "You can take a shower here"

"A shower?"

"You will NOT rub your sticky body all over my bed" you crossed your arms, looking over to him. You could feel your lips curve into a smile, seeing the confused look on his face, still flushed from running from practice and of course brutally fighting with you. Confusion on that smug face of Jean's was a rare sight to see.

And it was kinda cute.

Huh?

You quickly shook your head to get rid of the stupid thoughts, and pointed your finger in the direction of the bathroom of your dorm. "You stink"

"Get off my back, I'll sit on the chair then" Jean gestured towards the only chair in the room, being Sasha's comfy rolling desk chair - which she definitely didn't want smelling of a dirty, sweating man. You shook your head. "C'mon, I skipped showering and dropped off my stuff at my dorm just to get here in time because of your bitching ass!"

"Don't care, didn't ask" you replied with a snarky, forced smile, and tossed a pair of Connie's sweatpants to him. He lended it to Sasha a few days back, after she yeeted a bucket of chocolate ice cream into her lap at Connie’s and Jean’s dorm.

"Thanks, dipshit" Jean grimaced right back at you, and accepting his loss, turned his back to you to walk into your bathroom. You couldn't help staring at the broad shoulders, his wide back muscles moving under the jersey as he moved, just like his glute muscles under the sweatpants that became visible where the jersey rode up... "Hey, these are my sweats!"

"Tell Connie, he's the one giving away your stuff" you replied with a smirk. "You're welcome, by the way"

Jean shut the door behind him, and you threw yourself on your bed, burying your face in your hands. What the actual fuck is happening in your head?

Jean in your bathroom, on the other hand, was not so confused by his feelings as you were by yours.

He stood in front of the sink and lifted the shirt you gave him up to his face. He closed his eyes as the familiar smell of you filled his nose. It was a clean, kind of a sweet scent, that he knew exactly from all the times he got into your face, bullying you to insanity in the past few weeks.

He smiled to himself at the thought, and threw the clean clothes on the edge of the sink. It was a small bathroom, full of a bunch of shampoo bottles, cream jars, serums, pots, and whatever other girly products he couldn't identify to save his life. There was not much room to put any of his stuff.

Jean started taking his clothes off, and he caught a glimpse of himself in the mirror above the sink. You were kinda right, he did look dirty. His hair was a mess, a few strands dripping of sweat and stuck to his face and neck.

He saw you staring at it when he caught your eyes after Sasha left.

Maybe you thought of him the same way he thought of you? The way he still saw you as a stuck up little nerd, but found you more and more attractive the more he got under your skin, just turned him on so much. More than anything. Maybe it was because your angry moments made your tough, icy shell break, that you specifically made just to hide from him. And under that shell, you were not the mousy dork you wanted him to see.

His dirty, sweat-drenched clothes dropped on the tile floor one by one, as Jean got completely undressed. He saw you getting flustered more and more frequently, when you two were close to each other. He wondered if you thought of him getting naked in that small bathroom right now.

You absolutely did. You felt your cheeks growing warm under your palms, as you laid there, face still buried in your hands, Jean getting undressed on the other side of the door being the only thought in your mind. You wanted to stop the thoughts, but they sent waves of warmth down your body, making you throb in your panties...

And it felt good.

You've been denying the pleasure of letting these thoughts flow free for weeks now. You gave up. He was within a few feet from you, and he was probably already naked.

Jean grabbed the clean towel, and swiftly looked around to find a place to put it, where it'll be within reach from the shower. There was a wicker basket half-full of clothes, with a familiar pair of socks thrown on the top, covered in small little teddy bears. That was definitely Sasha's. Next to it was what looked like another laundry box. That must be yours.

Jean stopped for a moment. Instead of simply using it as a temporary towel holder, he stepped closer to the box and slowly lifted the lid.

Yes, it was definitely yours.

After a quick glance at the closed door, he carefully reached into it, pulling out a familiar lilac top of yours. He remembered it, because it was quite a tight one, not like your usual baggy t-shirts that you liked to hide under. This one top made it hard for him not to look at the round outlines of your perfect tits, your nipples poking through the thin fabric. Jean lifted the top to his nose, getting a whiff of your sweet scent.

Jean felt like such a fucking pervert at that moment. There has never been a need for him to get creepy, he could basically get any girl he wanted. There was not one time when he felt called to stalk on anyone, or act out of line, being in their bathroom and smelling their used clothes.

Dear lord.

He almost, almost convinced himself to cut it off, and just take a shower. But as he reached to drop the lilac top back in the box, a pair of panties caught his eye on top of the laundry. Fuck.

Jean already felt himself getting hard as he pulled out the soft piece of fabric, and felt it between the tips of his fingers. It was a simple cotton pair, with a blue little bow at the top. Jean closed his eyes, imagining the bow sitting right above your little pussy, and blood flowed into his groin, his cock getting rock hard in no time.

He let out a quiet sigh as he imagined how your wet folds must taste just as sweet and salivating as you smelt. He couldn't shake the feeling that this was extremely wrong... But he also couldn't stop now.

Jean wrapped his fingers around his hardened cock, and jerked himself a little bit while thinking of how he would lick and tease your little clit through this soft fabric. His tip started glistening with precum as the thought of you moaning in pleasure filled his mind. Your eyes would be looking into his, your long eyelashes blinking down at him, practically pleading him to pull the panties aside and lick your wet, creamy center.

"Holy shit" Jean whispered with a quiet, low groan and hesitated for a moment, before wrapping the pair of panties around his achingly hard cock. He had to gather all his strength to hold back his moans as he started to slide them up and down on his shaft. This is so wrong.

But he so desperately wanted to be inside of you.

He bit down on his lower lip, tightening your panties around the head of his cock. The precum leaking from the tip started to form a wet little patch on the fabric. The softness of it, your smell still lingering in his nose and overwhelming his senses, the image in his head of your legs spread wide open for him... It just felt so fucking good.

Jean started to let out a few quiet sighs as he let himself enjoy the thought of eating you out, then the whole of his body jerked in shock as a loud knock on the bathroom door stopped him in his tracks.

"Jean, what the hell are you doing? Quit admiring yourself in the mirror and get in the shower, we don't have all day" you yelled through the door. It took you multiple seconds to talk yourself out of peeping through the keyhole.

Jean quickly dropped the panties back into the laundry box and closed the lid. You heard the shower start running in no time, and you threw yourself on the bed again, as if burying your face in the pillows made all your dirty little thoughts of him go away. You imagined as water ran down on his skin, wetting his hair, dripping from his most sensitive parts...

"Holy fucking shit, I'm out of my mind" you murmured into the pillow, and cursed Sasha for leaving you to suffer in this situation.

And for being so right about you being into him.

In little less than ten minutes, the bathroom door swung open and with a cloud of hot steam around him, Jean appeared wearing the clean clothes you gave him. You sat up on your bed, and instantly bursted out laughing at the sight.

His own grey sweatpants obviously fit him right, but the large t-shirt you lended him was so tight around his chest and shoulders, it looked like it was moments from tearing apart. Not to mention the length of the shirt on his tall frame left the lower part of his stomach completely uncovered.

"I like your crop top, babygirl" you grinned looking up at his face, and Jean frowned, but you could see the glimpse of the smile he was holding back. You forced yourself to ignore the wetness you felt spreading in your panties as you looked at his happy trail peeking from under your shirt. The V-line formed by his hips lead your eyes right down to the crotch of his sweatpants, and you felt yourself blush again.

This was going to be a misery, that was for sure.

"Shut up, clean freak" Jean growled and occupied his well deserved place on the end of your bed.

256 notes · View notes

grxmreaperx · 1 year ago

Note

Hi!!

I just read your Mark Hoffman fic and I loved it!! Would you be willing to write something with Hoffman being a little obsessed with the reader? any further plot is totally up to you, I just need more Hoffman fics. 😩 Angst, fluff, smut (if you’re okay with that of course!)?

God, I love this request!! I’m all for men being obsessed in fics. And there’s no way I can answer this request and NOT write my first Hoffman smut (👀)

Also, you’ve all been so sweet and lovely ahhh I’m so glad I made this blog!!

You Belong to Me

Pairing: Mark Hoffman x reader (reader is AFAB)

Word Count: 2k

Warnings: 18+!! Smut!! Kinda went off with this ngl. I had way too much fun with this. Mark being very dominant and obsessed with the reader. Praise and degradation kink. Hair pulling, spanking, cream pie. Mark being very possessive. Oral sex (m! receiving), fingering (f! receiving), p in v penetration. Every ounce of feminism left my body writing this.

Summary: Upon John’s request, you’ve been working as Mark’s secretary at the precinct in order to keep you off the list of suspects in the search for Jigsaw’s accomplice. Did Mark really expect you to not take this golden opportunity to mess with him? As much as he appreciates the tight pencil skirts you’ve started wearing to work, he does not appreciate the attention it is drawing from his coworkers.

You were driving him absolutely insane. He wasn’t sure whether to bash John’s skull in or worship him like Amanda does for placing you here. He already had a hard enough time focusing on stake outs and working on traps with you, and now you were here. In his place of work, where he was supposed to be professional, supposed to pretend he had never seen you before you had your “interview.”

Mark knew exactly what you were doing. Your first day you walked in here, friendly smile on your pretty face, pencil skirt glued to your legs, staring right at him.

“Good morning, Detective Hoffman.”

God, he was going to kill John.

He hadn’t exactly had time for a sex life since everything went down. His sister’s death, planning Seth Baxter’s fate, joining Jigsaw, all on top of his detective work. And it hadn’t really bothered him; he had more important things to think about.

Until John decided you’d be a perfect addition to the team.

---

You knew your plan was working exactly how you wanted.

John hadn’t tested him yet, so why shouldn’t you? The detective needed to be tested, didn’t he?

You saw how he stared at you when you walked into work each morning, spending the time before your shift picking out the perfect outfit that you knew would drive the man mad.

You had decided months ago that you tired of the tension, the pull you felt towards the man every night you spent working together. And now John, bless his soul, had given you the perfect opportunity to do something about it.

You had seen some of the other men at the station watching you, eyes hovering a bit too long on your legs and ass. It didn’t bother you much, you ignored them for the most part, they weren’t your test subject, they weren’t your detective, so you hardly even noticed.

But, oh, did Mark notice. He noticed every fucking time. And every time was a new test of his willpower. Every single time, all he could think about was what sort of trap he could devise that would be worthy of the pigs who dared look at you.

---

“How you doing today, honey?” You turned around in your chair and saw Henry Miller, one of the cops that was most persistent with you. You were friendly with him; he was nice enough. The only problem was he thought he had a shot with you.

“Morning, Henry. I’m doing alright, how are you today?”

“I’d be a lot better if you finally let me take you out tonight.”

You scoffed. “How many times do I need to tell you I’m not interested before it finally gets through?”

He leaned on your desk, hands resting on the table, staring intently at you from across the surface. “Cmon, baby. Just one dinner, that’s all I ask. I’m very persistent.”

“Miller, isn’t there something you’re supposed to be doing?” You recognized the deep voice instantly and had to stop yourself from grinning. This was perfect.

The smile dropped from Henry’s face when he saw Hoffman staring daggers at him. He looked like a deer in the headlights, a child that had been caught stealing candy.

“Yes, sir,” he muttered, before quickly making his way back to his desk.

“And you,” he started, eyes on you. “In my office.”

You flashed him your best smile. “Of course, Detective.”

----

“Sit down.”

You sat down in the chair across from him, trying to scope out the look on his face. His jaw was tense and shoulders tight. He looked like he was about to explode.

“What the fuck was that?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about, sir.”

He sucked in a breath. “Bullshit.” He stood up, slowly making his way around the table. “You walk in here every day, in your tight little skirts, giving me that proud little smile, and you’re going to sit here and act like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing? I don’t think so, sweetheart.” He placed on a hand on each armrest, eyes boring down into you. “Now, let’s try again, shall we? What the fuck was that?”

Bingo.

You smiled up at him. “I just want to look nice for you, Detective.”

He shook his head and gritted his teeth. “Oh, you wanna look pretty for me, is that it?” You nod. “You know what would make you look real pretty? Get on your fucking knees.”

Embarrassingly quick, you sink out of the chair and onto your knees, staring up at the man. He smirks.

“Well? You just gonna stare at me? Don’t act like you don’t know what to do.”

You reach up and slowly get to work on his belt, trying to act like you still have some sort of control. Not that you minded, but it was still nice to pretend.

All resolve left you went he wrapped a hand in your hair, pulling back until your chin was pointed up at him. “Don’t do that. You’ve teased me enough. Now it’s your turn.”

You pulled down his pants just enough to reach his dick. You sucked in a breath. You had some idea of what you were in for, but fuck.

You tried to tease him a bit more, you really did, but as soon as you heard the deep groan when you took him into your mouth, you were done for.

His hand in your hair guided you, bobbing your head on his dick, feeling it hit the back of your throat each time. Each tug on your hair, each time you felt the tip of his dick down your throat, you felt a spark go straight between your legs. You looked up at him through thick eyelashes, eyes slightly teary, spit spilling over your lips.

“God, I knew it. You do look very pretty like this, sweetheart.”

You were slightly disappointed when he finally pulled your head back, dick soaked with your spit. “Get up.”

You shakily got to your feet, suddenly aware of how much of a mess you must be. His eyes roamed over your body, examining you from head to toe.

“Go on, sweetheart. Bend over the desk for me.”

You quickly complied, bending over the front his desk, legs slightly spread. You felt him behind you, placing his hands on your hips before landing a hard smack on your ass. His hands pushed up skirt, pooling it around your waist and exposing you to him. He ran a finger over your underwear, pressing lightly on your clit, before landing another blow.

“Such a little slut, aren’t you? Already soaked for me. Have you enjoyed acting like a brat?” Another smack. “I asked you a question.”

“Yes,” you said softly.

“Yes what?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Much better.” He pushed your underwear aside, running a finger through your folds. You felt your hips push back, trying to get more. More of anything, more of him. He pulled his hand away, running it over your thighs. “So desperate, aren’t you? You know exactly what you’ve been doing to me, teasing me, acting like a brat. Why should I touch you?”

“Please, sir, I’m sorry. I just wanted – “

“Wanted what? Wanted me to fuck you?”

“Yes,” you breathed. You felt him slide one finger in, quickly followed by a second. You bit your lip, suddenly aware of where you were and who was outside this office.

“So, you thought you’d make me jealous, hm?” he asked, fingers slowly pumping in and out of you. You nodded, rolling your hips against his fingers. As soon as he felt your movement, he pulled his fingers away. A whimper left your lips.

“Why should I make you feel good, when you’ve done nothing but tease me for months?”

“Please, sir. I need it.”

“Louder.”

“But- “

“I said louder.”

“Please, sir, please, fuck.”

He slid into you all at once, not giving you any time to adjust to his size. You let out a loud moan, before clamping a hand over your mouth, hoping to God no one heard you.

His hand found its way to your hair, pulling you toward him, back arching. You felt his lips right next to your ear as he finally moved his hips, pulling almost completely out before pounding back in. “No, no, baby. You want to tease me, make me jealous, let these cops flirt with you? You’re gonna let this whole fucking office know who you belong to.”

He set a rapid pace, hips snapping against yours. You felt your eyes roll back in your head, legs unsteady.

Mark groaned in your ear. “God, do you have any idea how many times I’ve thought about this pussy? How many times I’ve thought about bending you over and ruining you? Do you have any fucking idea what you’ve done to me? You’re all I fucking think about anymore.”

You let out a loud moan, no longer caring who heard you two. “God, fuck.”

“Cmon baby, tell me who you belong to.”

“You, sir.”

“Louder.” His long, hard strokes made your legs weak.

“I belong to you, sir! I’m all yours!”

“Good girl.” His other hand reached around your front, fingers quickly finding your clit and drawing quick circles around it. “Now, let everyone out there know that I’m the only one that gets to make you cum.”

Your legs shook and you knew if it weren’t for his arms holding you up, you wouldn’t be able to stand. Your mind was blank, forgetting everything but his words and the feeling of his cock filling you.

Your vision went white as your orgasm washed over you, the room filled with sounds of you moaning his name and his skin slapping against yours. You felt his pace falter slightly, his breath hot on your ear as he emptied himself inside you.

You stayed like that for a moment, both trying to catch your breath, before he finally pulled out of you and slid your skirt down.

“You have no idea how many times I’ve thought about doing that,” he said, breathless, as he pulled his pants back up.

You let out a soft laugh. “Me too.” You start to grab a tissue from the box on his desk to clean yourself up before he grabbed your wrist. He spun you around to face him, face inches from yours.

“I don’t think so, sweetheart. I want everyone to know that you’re mine. And I want to see you try and hold yourself together with my cum dripping down your thighs.” He gave you a smirk before letting go of your wrist, making his way back to his chair, and continuing his work as if nothing had happened.

He couldn’t help but smile to himself as you tried to make yourself look somewhat presentable.

Maybe your plan worked a bit too well.

---

Let me know if you guys like this!! I've been thinking about doing a NSFW alphabet with our lovely detective, let me know if you guys would be interested 👀

#mark hoffman x reader #saw #saw franchise #smut #fanfic #fanfiction

529 notes · View notes

scribble-dribble-writes · 1 year ago

Note

Hello! Would you do a mild angst Buggy x Reader fic? With some fluff at the end? Where Buggy and Reader where a fling back in the day when she suddently disapeared. When raiding a village one day years later he meets a boy that looks like the perfect mix of him and his former lover- finding out that he's his son and she died long ago? Her only legacy was this boy.

Buggy as a father omg AHHHHHHHH 😭😭😭

---

One Night

It wasn't enough searching the seas on his own, he wanted to deploy every ship possible. He wanted to dive into the depths of the ocean even if it paralysed him just so he could find the truth about your disappearance. It pulled apart his mind like no other trauma he had ever faced. He drank till he could see the stars or if he was lucky, your face. As a pirate captain, he had been with endless women. Faces he never recognized, voices that never mattered because all they ever did was hold him for the night but you.

He pushed away from the railing, he wanted to scream, to throw this bottle in his hands and break it into shards. His tears weren't enough, he tugged on those gloves as if they were his armour, preventing his fingers from yearning for your warmth. You were the one that slipped away.

A young merchant by a seaside port he had docked once. He had come by your stall demanding you hand over your wages when you stood your ground, looked him in the eye and said no. His henchmen cracked their knuckles behind him as they edged closer but he remembered his hand shooting up, telling them to stop because something within him had shifted.

Noticing his intrigue you had brokered a deal with him instead. To trade all your hand made lanterns instead of the money because no one was buying them and there was no room for you to stock them anymore.

He tilted his head, all the signs pointing towards the fact that you were closing down your shop.

"I have no need for your lanterns.", He scoffed but you shrugged your shoulders, continuing to wipe the glass in your hands.

His crew began to murmur and laugh behind you at your audacity.

"I have a need for the money I've earned. You seem to be doing well for yourself.", you responded looking behind him at his ship and his crew.

He couldn't understand you. You were at his mercy but why was he feeling like he was at yours?

You were an enigma, a map he couldn't read and that was enough of a challenge for him to concoct a plan. Although a pirate, his life was mundane. The same raids, the same celebrations but you were a spark. A different colour he had never seen.

"That is true.", he rolled back on his heels as a smile threatened to spread across his face.

"You can keep your money.", he said turning to catch your eyes again, he heard the silent gasp amongst his crew mates. He had never been this generous before.

"But I would like to hire your services.", he spoke picking up one of your glass lanterns. It puzzled you, you stopped what you were doing as you focused on him, your nervousness now turning into confusion.

"What for?", you asked.

"My circus lights are in need of an upgrade and the quality of your glass is spectacular, along with it's workmanship.", he held the glass up to the light to inspect it.

"I need you to replace all the lights on the ship.", he looked at you and you gasped.

All the lights on the ship, that was two months of work plus the wages. You didn't have to go to bed hungry. Pirate or not, it was honest work and you needed it. So without making him wait for long, you took up the offer.

"When do I start?", you asked.

"The sooner the better.", he hummed flashing you a smile and for second you forgot who he was.

The beauty about the circus was the magic and he embodied it. Never letting you know who he was, elusive like a rabbit in a hat, here one moment, gone the next.

But with every day you boarded the gaudy vessel by the docks, you grew to understand there was more to him. The quiet nights you spent when the town and crew were asleep, to screw on the bulbs and fuse the glass pieces. He kept you company. He wouldn't talk much, but he snuck glances at you and you did the same.

The distance between you, lessened as the days went by and soon he was seated by your side holding up the tools you needed. His soft eyes gazing into yours before looking away. This was a side no one could witness cause he had it sealed. This version of him wasn't up for display.

The nights had become his favourite now, he didn't have to utter a word, make up a joke, exert his authority, he could just sit by your side and listen to sound of the waves. Watch you mix the colours and bring to life the ideas in your head just like he did with his shows and strategies. He didn't have to peel away his clothes to feel seen, your knowing smile after he pulled a stunt or threw a tantrum was enough.

But it was when you had told him it wasn't his fault for all the hurt he carried, after a night he had a little too much to drink and began to writhe in his self hatred, you were there. To hold him up, to quiten these thoughts that were loud in his head and though his vision was blurry, he could never forget the moment you had kissed him then.

You did in the hopes that when he woke up the next morning he would have forgotten about it, but the days after that he looked at you like he had remembered all of it.

It was the final night, the ship rocked gently but the deck was alive. Your lights brought a new life to this ship, it's crew smiling for the first time since you've been here and while you stood in the middle admiring your work, yours eyes found his. There up by the helm, his head resting in his hands with his eyes set only on you.

That was the night, you could never forget. The truth behind you shutting down your shop was not because of poor sales but because you were sick. Only you knew, and you were set to spend the money you had travelling or doing good of some kind, to leave a mark before your time had come.

So this was perfect. Your lanterns would adorn this ship always. You didn't want to bring down the mood of everyone around, so you held this moment to yourself. Nothing could top this feeling of satisfaction.

You stood by the railing, looking out at the sea, the waters dancing under the moonlight and the soft colourful glow from the ship, when he bumped his shoulder gently into yours.

"I feel like we've become friends after all this time.", he said sweetly and you smiled. It was true, he had become your friend. The only man who made you laugh.

But the moment his eyes lingered on yours it was as if he could read your sadness, he jutted his chin towards you in a manner of asking you what was wrong but you shook your head to put him at ease.

"Just that this is my last day on this beautiful ship.", you pushed away to spin around as soft music played. When you came to a halt, your smile so full on your face that when you saw him looking at you, you were certain he was in love. In love with you.

Your tried to hide the sinking feeling but he only made it worse by walking towards you to catch your hands in his, guiding you into a dance that the warmth in his gloves felt soothing from the cold of the night.

"You've made it beautiful.", he said confidently and it stung you. The truth you knew, that you didn't have all the time to offer him.

"You'll always be welcome here.", he continued and you could gauge where this was going.

"Buggy.", you whispered his name, trying to interrupt him but your heart didn't. When would be the next time you would feel loved? You didn't know. So you stayed, documenting his words so that you carry it with you till the end.

"In fact I feel it's time I come clean about about our deal.", He said and his eyes reflected the colour of the lights.

"Somewhere in between these two months, from the first moment I saw you, I've fallen in love with you.", he said, the rhythm picking up in the song that he twirled you around as though you were a star and he was your admirer.

You forgot about the pain in your life and let your heart roam free. Just for this night. When morning came you will cage it and disappear.

You danced around him, escaping from his hold because you couldn't tell him you had fallen for him too. Because that would break him. But he reached for you again, his hands pulling your arms to him that now you couldn't evade him any longer. A vacuum settling over him and you drowning out the music as you gazed into his eyes.

"Say something.", he laughed nervously as though he had put his entire life on the line.

"I cannot offer you an eternity.", you spoke, your smile dying away.

"but I can give you one night.", you let your fingers hold the sides of his face and watched him unravel.

"One night of your love?", he questioned and you nodded your head, sure that he was going to laugh at you.

"That is more love than I've ever received in my life.", he flashed smile just like yours, one mixed with peace and melancholy.

With that he pulled you in, his lips kissing you where he pleased as he stubbled along with you into his quarters, kicking his boots off like he was a drunken sailor, taking you with him as he fell into the bed.

One night, that changed the course of your lives.

Now those memories won't die, in fact they insisted on pestering him, drowning him in the frustration that your words were something he could never hear again.

"Captain, land up ahead.", his crewmate approached him.

"What do you want me to do with that information?", he barked back angrily.

"Do we put down our anchor or pass it by?", the boy answered nervously.

Buggy looked at the island, the lights near the docks reminding him of you again. He groaned.

"Raid it, you fools!", he ordered, stomping away to the helm.

The citizens were wary of his arrival. They scattered away from him as he walked down the streets. Everyone left, except for a little boy. He was by the street corner, juggling glass lanterns as he balanced himself on a unicycle. Buggy stopped in his tracks, the boy's face resembling yours and his dark blue hair looking a lot like his.

"Do we burn down the town?", a deckhand asked him.

"Go back to the ship.", Buggy ordered leaving his crew in confusion. They were reluctant to act on his word that he turned back to yell at them. Telling them to leave.

As they went away, he approached the boy.

"Good day to you, sir. Would you like to see a magic trick?", the boy beamed at him.

Buggy fought back tears, as he crouched down.

"I would.", he said softly and watched as the boy pulled out a card, he tried to hide the card within his tiny fingers to then flip it around quickly to hold up a golden coin instead.

Buggy's heart stopped. The gold coin wasn't an ordinary coin. It carried the seal of his Jolly Roger. One given to crew mates and friends as a means to let people know that they were under his protection.

He tried to take it from the kid but the boy closed his fists on it and drew it back.

"I can't give it to you, sir. It was my mother's.", he stared Buggy down. His eyes the same as yours that Buggy couldn't help but let out a knowing laugh.

"Do you know that coin could fetch you a lot of berry, boy?", he asked to which the boy grew silent, his eyes falling to the floor as sadness seeped into his tiny face.

"I know. But my mother said if I kept it safe, my father will come in search for me.", his sweet words broke through Buggy's facade.

"Where is she?", he asked instantly, wanting to take you and your son home with him. He looked around the market, his heart picking up it's pace in the hopes that he could see you once again.

"She's not here. She's gone home to the clouds, that's what the doctor told me. She can't come back from there.", he heard the boy say and understood what it meant that he broke down to sit on the dirt road. The innocence in the boy's face now replaced with a grief he was too young to understand.

Buggy reached for the lanterns the boy owned, it looked similar to the ones you had made.

"Would you like to buy them? I know how to make more of those.", the boy chirped, his eyes looking up at Buggy with the expectation of making money.

Now that made him feel like he was looking straight into a mirror, he smiled.

"Did your mother tell you about your father?", he asked only for the boy to jump up.

"Oh yes. He owned a huge ship. Travelled across all the seas, fought bad guys and sea monsters. He also had blue hair just like me.", The kid said with evident excitement.

Buggy reminisced your presence, that you left your mark in everything and everyone. That even now, you had made sure the boy knew him as someone good and that was how you had seen him. Buggy met the expectant eyes of the boy and slowly removed his captain's hat.

"Blue hair like mine?", he asked and watch the gears turn in his head.

The kid reached for his hat to run his finger over the crest. Placing the coin next to it, he drew in a gasp. It was a match. The crest was the same as the one on the coin. Buggy prepared himself to explain more, but all he felt was the sudden force with which the child ran into his arms. He wrapped his hands around him and Buggy knew he was never going to be the same again.

"You came. You came for me.", the boy cried and Buggy couldn't help but let the tears he held back roll down his cheek.

He had found you, a part of you and that was all he could ask for.

He wiped away the tears as he carried the boy.

"Now come on, I've got to show you my ship.", he said with a dramatic flair as he walked down the street with his son in his arms.

#buggy x reader #buggy thoughts #op buggy #one piece buggy #captain buggy #buggy the clown #buggy one piece #opla #op live action #opla buggy #op fluff #op fanart #one piece fan fiction #one piece fluff

563 notes · View notes

meidui · 7 months ago

Note

as you know, i am absolutely obsessed with 'seven years in heaven'. do you have any recommendations for similar fics where they teeter on the edge of a breakup or divorce, or where exes get back together? i'm looking for stories where the tension is all based on miscommunications and assumptions, and nobody is genuinely angry/there's no hate between them. i need that stupid yearning and longing when, in fact, they both still want each other. i've read a few but i can't get enough 😩✨

DO I EVER!! 🥰

In Too Deep by @fohatic

Steve knew that he was asking for trouble when he agreed to let the gallery auction off a date with him for charity, but he needed to get in the director's good books if he wanted to make it as an artist in this cutthroat town. He never imagined that his participation would ignite an outrageous bidding war, or that the infamous, billionaire ex that he hadn't seen since their sudden breakup two years prior would show up and stake his claim.

a *slightly* twisted, darker spin on meidui's "frequencies of sea and space"

frequencies of sea and space by meidui

“One mil,” a voice says, firmly, and Steve would recognise that voice anywhere. Like thick amber honey, like smoke from a fire, lighting him up and burning him down.

There are no higher bids.

Steve looks across the room and gazing back at him is the face he’s spent two years squeezing his eyes shut at night trying to block out, but those eyes meet his and it’s all over.

From the Ground Up by @omg-just-peachy

Tony and Steve broke up years ago and Tony never quite got over it. When they finally see each other again at Pepper's wedding, Rhodey convinces Tony this might just be his second chance.

Paint the Town Blue by @omg-just-peachy

Ten years since he’d seen or spoken to Tony Stark, ten years since they’d broken up to go away to school. And now this email. It could be his only chance to see Tony again.

I'll keep your brittle heart warm by @omg-just-peachy

They got married when they were young, just twenty-four years old, despite the arguments from their friends that they should wait, that neither of them were ready for a commitment like marriage so young. Steve distinctly remembered Sam pointing out that the male brain isn’t even fully developed until age twenty-five. But they were young and passionate, so sure they’d found their perfect person that they could overcome anything and everything life threw at them.

And it was true.

For six months.

it always leads to you by @arabellamonkey

Slowly at first, and then all of a sudden, everything made sense: the way Tony had looked at him that first time when Pepper had introduced them, the way his eyes were always searching for him everywhere they went, and how Tony had asked him about his suit, voice clearly flirty now that he thought about it again. And that smile, oh God, that smile… it had been the same he had given him all those years ago when they flirted in their kitchen. “Wait, you… you recognized me?” Steve asked, eyes wide and voice incredulous. Tony scoffed, expression still bemused, “don’t insult my intelligence, of course I did.” Steve stared at him, both eyebrows raised. “Okay, it might have taken me a few days to figure it out,” Tony ended up admitting.

*** Or, after breaking up five years ago because of heavy miscommunication, Steve gets assigned to be Tony's personal bodyguard.

dreamt of you all summer long by @ifmywishescametrue

Steve spends months after the breakup trying to forget Tony, but it never seems to work. That's alright, though, because Tony can't forget him either.

all I ever knew of love by @stovetuna

For six months, nobody knew that Tony Stark and Steve Rogers were dating. Which means no one knows they broke up six weeks ago.

Catching Lightning in a Bottle by @sabrecmc

College student Tony meets janitor Steve at MIT and they fall blissfully in love, until Howard happens and things fall apart. One divorce paperwork snafu courtesy of the ever-helpful Jarvis, and ten years later, Tony has to get re-divorced from Steve.

This does not go as he imagines.

Or, the Sweet Home Alabama AU that no one--well, okay, a few of you--asked for.

Modern Love by @captainneverever

Tony drifts into a relationship with Steve after a one night stand. He thinks that Steve is modern and well adjusted to the 21st century but finds that Steve is old-fashioned in unexpected ways.

Captain Coffee by @captainneverever

Steve is content managing his own coffee shop and life is full with friends and neighbors. But an owner of big coffee chain pressures him to sell and someone from his past reappears. And now Steve needs to fight a bully, an ex, and himself to get his happy ending.

Never Worlds Apart by @kandisheek

It's been six years since he's seen Tony when he walks into his favorite diner and sees him sitting in their old booth, as if nothing ever happened. Steve can't believe the nerve of Tony to just show up out of the blue after the way he ended things.

Turns out Tony has a reason for wanting to make amends. And Steve doesn't appreciate only finding out about it after Tony has already almost died.

Plausible Deniability by nowalee

Tony and Steve broke up a month ago. Now, Tony is back because Fury wants him for an undercover mission. Only catch? Steve has to go with him, because the public doesn't know they broke up yet. It's a perfect cover.

And Tony can totally be alone on a mission with his ex who he isn't over yet. What could possibly go wrong?

You, Me and the Christmas Tree by @wikketkrikket

Steve thinks Tony is drinking. Tony thinks Steve is cheating. They both think their marriage is over. They are just going to give Peter one last family Christmas because he thinks everything is fine.

None of them are wrong, but none of them are right either. When Steve and Tony get snowed in together 3 days before Christmas, will the enforced proximity be the time they need to figure things out?

(Spoilers: yes, yes it will)

#if anyone has additions please add them because i also can't get enough 😌#soliloquent-stark #asked #fic rec #stony #stevetony

99 notes · View notes

loversj0y · 1 year ago

Text

5 times wilbur helped you + 1 time you helped him

pairing: wilbur soot x gn! reader

TWs: hypochondria + drinking alcohol + sickenss + death mentioned

note: this was so cute to write ee i love a good 5 things + 1! this fic is very cutesy too, a good strangers to neighbors to friends to best friends to lovers moment!

taglist! @l0veb0mb1ng

word count: 6.2k

one

The record store managed to be both small and incredibly overwhelming. It was a cozy place, with gorgeous dark blue walls, soft lighting, and big windows. You’d decided to stop here on your way home from work given that you’d been living in Brighton for nearly four months now and have barely gone anywhere but work and your apartment. It was about time you’d looked at expanding your music taste, so a record store was the perfect place to try and find something new.

At least, you’d hoped it was. You’d been browsing the place for a good fifteen minutes, just completely mindless as you searched for anything that could pique your interest. A few customers had come and gone, and you could tell the shopkeeper was getting a bit annoyed by your presence. There was one other person in there with you, but the sun was starting to set, so you could imagine that the shopkeeper wanted to start closing. You looked around again, eyes scanning the title cards.

The Front Bottoms. You’d only heard a few of their songs, so maybe it would be good to give them a listen, and at least this way, you could get back home before the sun finished setting. You went to grab the last record, deciding it would be better than going home with nothing. As you reached for it, your hand quickly came into contact with another person’s, and you pulled your hand back quickly.

“Oh, sorry!” You heard, turning to look up at the only other person in there. He was tall, soft brown curls peeking out from a beige beanie that matched his sweater. He was really cute as well, a soft flush covering your cheeks as you looked up at his smile that honestly took your breath away.

You spent a moment remembering how to respond like a normal person before you spoke up, “Oh, no, that’s my bad!” You smiled softly, “You can have it, if you’d like, I’ve never really listened to them much.”

“Are you sure?” He gave you a soft smile that honestly made your heart melt a bit.

You nodded, “Yeah, I’m sure, go ahead!”

He grabbed the record, holding it for a moment before looking back at you, “If you’ve never really listened, can I ask why you were going for it? I don’t mean to be rude, I’m just curious.”

“Oh,” you looked away, red dusting your cheeks, “I’ve been trying to expand my music taste a bit, so I figured I’d just come to a record store to find something that might catch my eye.”

He thought for a moment, walking away while talking, “Well, if you’re looking for suggestions,” he sorted through a few slots before walking over with a record, holding it out for you, “this band is one of my favourites, they have a really unique style and their lyrics are fantastic.”

You took the record, looking down at it. The front cover showed a pair of knees with blood going down one leg and a bed behind the legs. An interesting cover, to say the least. You turned to the back cover, which was more simple, detailing the tracklist with the band’s name up top.

“Los Campesinos!? I’ve never heard of them.”

He lit up like a kid in a candy store just from you saying their name, “Yeah, I mean, they’re not as big as they used to be, but they’re really good.”

You looked down at the record in your hand once again, before looking back up to the excited but nervous grin on his face and nodding. “Alright, yeah. Thank you.”

He perked up even more, stuttering out his next words, “Cool, yeah, alright.” There was a faint blush on his cheeks as he moved to go check out.

“I hope you enjoy it, really, it’s one of my absolute favorite records,” he gave you a gentle smile as he finished getting rung up by the shopkeeper. He looked like he wanted to ask you something, but before he could, his phone started ringing. He pulled it out of his pocket, cursing softly.

“I’ve got to run,” he sighed, smiling at you once more as he headed towards the door, “it was nice talking to you.”

You tried to ignore the fact that your mood faltered a bit at the knowledge that he would have to leave, even if you’d only been speaking for about five-odd minutes. “It was nice talking to you too. Thanks for the recommendation!” You smiled, giving him a slight wave as he walked out the door, before purchasing the record. With a frown, you realized that you never caught his name.

two

It was raining. It was cold, and it was raining. It was cold, raining, and your arms hurt. You had walked half a mile back to your apartment in the freezing rain with a box of your things because your boss decided that your last work wasn’t “suitable for the brands image” whatever that meant and fired you. You’d cried about it on the first half of the walk, stressed over having to potentially find a new job. But now you were just tired, the rain was seeping through your coat to your skin, and you could feel the cold in your bones which was entirely unpleasant when carrying a shitty cardboard box filled with the contents of your entire office.

You managed to get into the building, thankfully your downstairs neighbor was kind enough to hold the door open for you when she’d seen you struggling to open the door. That wasn’t the hard part, though, no, the hard part was somehow trying to fish your keys from your pocket without dropping the box of things and then proceeding to unlock your door.

You pushed the box between your door and chest, trying to use the tension in order to get the keys out of your pocket.

You quickly got distracted by the sound of a door behind you opening. You didn’t really know much about your neighbor across the hall. You’d never actually met him, since it appeared you and him had opposing schedules for the most part. You were always out by eight A.M. to walk to work, and you usually only returned around 6 P.M.. From what you could gather, he usually left sometime around noon and only returned later in the night, though sometimes, when you couldn’t sleep, you’d hear him get back as late as 2 A.M..

Because of the distraction, you ended up dropping the keys right onto the ground. You tried to carefully manuveur your way into picking up the keys, but instead, you were met with the sound of crashing as the wet cardboard gave way and fell to the floor, scattering your belongings across the hallway.

You sighed, crouching down to start picking things up when you heard a voice from across the hall.

“Oh, here, let me,” your neighbor spoke, leaning down to grab a photo that had fallen in front of his door.

You looked up, shock flooding you for a moment as you finally got a look at your neighbor.

“You’re that guy,” you smiled, and his head whipped up alarmingly fast, “from the record store.”

He relaxed when you finished your sentence, a soft smile coming onto his face as he held out the photo, “Yeah, uh, hi. You live across the hall?” You nodded as you took the photo, and he chuckled, “Well, that guess the world is funny like that.” He helped you clean up the things, placing them inside the box for you.

“You really don’t have to do that.”

“Oh, no, I insist, trust me,” he gave you a warm smile, and you suddenly didn’t feel so cold anymore.

“Thank you,” you spoke timidly

It didn’t take long before all of your things were recollected, and you carefully stood, unlocking your apartment door. You went to lean down to pick up the box, but your neighbor had already picked it up.

“I could bring it inside, if you want. It’s a bit heavy. Not- not that you can’t carry it, I- I just mean-” His nervous stuttering brought a laugh out of you, and he paused, face flushed as he looked up at you.

“It’s alright, I knew what you meant. That would be really nice, thank you,” you opened the door, holding it open for him as he carried the box in.

“You can just place it anywhere on the counter,” you spoke, and he nodded, placing it on the countertop before processing the contents of the box.

He clearly knew what that box meant, but he didn’t ask about it. Maybe it was because of your red-rimmed eyes, or the fact that it was quite obvious that you weren’t having a good day, but he asked another question instead.

“How did you like the album?”

You shrugged off your wet coat, hanging it up before turning to him, a soft smile on your face, “It was a bit odd, but I really liked it.”

He lit up, “Really? Which one was your favorite?”

You thought for a moment, “I’d have to say A Heat Rash in the Shape of the Show Me State.”

If he lit up just from you saying you liked the album, he was set ablaze with happiness as you spoke, “God, that song is fantastic! It’s my favorite as well.”

You grinned, and after a moment, it occurred to you that you still didn’t know his name.

“Alright, so, things I know about you: you really like The Front Bottoms and Los Campesinos!, and your favorite song from Romance is Boring is A Heat Rash. Things I don’t know: your name,” you chuckled.

A blush returned to his cheeks, and he looked down sheepishly. He rubbed the back of his neck, looking back up at you, “My name’s Wilbur.” You smiled, “Wilbur. It’s nice to know you and meet you, in that order. My name’s Y/N.”

“Pleasure to meet you as well,” he gave you a bright smile, before humming softly, “Do you want some hot cocoa?” You laughed, tilting your head a bit, “What?”

“Well, I was gonna run by the shops to get some, so I was wondering, if you wanted, I could bring you some. I’d imagine it would be nice after getting caught in the rain.”

You looked up at him, unable to hide the smile spreading across your face, “Yeah, uh, thank you, Wilbur. That sounds lovely.”

three

Sometimes you think the universe had it out for you. It had only been about a month and a half since you’d gotten fired, and while you were able to start doing freelance work, that didn’t mean that things were looking up for you. Not at all. Because sometimes, when the stars aligned, they didn’t align positively.

You got the text an hour ago. Your boyfriend — well, now ex-boyfriend — Jared, sent some short message detailing just why he couldn’t stand you anymore. How your “love” had died out and lost its spark and honestly you couldn’t care. He hadn’t done anything in months, you were the only one trying anymore. You’d just hoped maybe he would eventually try.

Regardless, you found comfort in the night sky. The roof was supposed to be off limits, but you discovered pretty quickly upon moving in that they never actually locked the door. Still, you didn’t make it a habit to come up here, just in case. But on nights like this, where you couldn’t decide if you were relieved or distraught, the quiet night sky always helped you feel somewhat consoled. You put on a nice pair of headphones and listened to some quiet music, allowing the song to drown out the sounds of the city.

You closed your eyes for a few minutes, taking a deep breath.

When you went to look up at the stars again, you were instead met with the concerned look of Wilbur from above you. You startled, sitting up and pulling your headphones off.

“Wilbur! Holy shit, you scared the fuck out of me.”

You hadn’t seen Wilbur much since that day outside your door. He did eventually bring you the hot cocoa, and you had a nice chat but not much else after that. You saw him in passing sometimes, now that you weren’t working a 9-to-5 and could leave your apartment whenever you dictated, but you would only share a few words.

“Sorry, sorry,” he chuckled, a soft blush on his cheeks, “I didn’t mean to, I thought you’d heard me saying your name. Didn’t realise the headphones were soundproof.”

You sat up, getting a better look at him. He had a pair of nice black pants on, as well as a large grey jumper. He also had a guitar across his back. You knew he played, you could hear soft strumming sometimes at night, but it was different to actually see him with it. He was also holding a half-empty bottle, and while you couldn’t see the label, you could tell it was probably vodka.

“It’s alright,” you laughed lightly, “what are you doing out here anyways?”

“I could ask you the same,” he smiled, pulling the guitar off his back, “I come up here to play sometimes when my apartment feels too confining. You?”

You sighed, “I like staring at the stars when my head feels overwhelming. Makes it easier.”

He nodded, considering something for a moment, “Do you mind if I’m here as well? I won’t bother you, if you don’t want.”

“Oh, I don’t mind. Might be nice to have some company, actually.”

You gave him a soft smile, and he returned the gesture, sitting across from you. He pulled his guitar across his lap, starting to pluck out some gentle notes. You looked up at the sky while he played, and it felt nicer than when you had been alone.

The only thing that brought you out of the peaceful energy was Wilbur pausing his playing to open the bottle and take a drink. You watched him curiously.

“Do you want some?” He asked, holding out the bottle, “It’s just vodka.”

Any other night, you would’ve said no. Any other night, you couldn’t justify it. Tonight? Tonight, you could.

You nodded and took the bottle, taking a swig. You cringed a bit from the taste, setting the bottle back down between you both. Wilbur’s company was nice. He played delicate melodies, and for the longest time, neither of you spoke.

The alcohol softened you, made you lose a bit of your filter. You were curious about Wilbur, and a conversation sounded comforting.

“You… said you come up here when your apartment gets too confining. What did you mean by that?” You drew your knees up to your chest as you asked him, giving him a curious look.

His hands paused for a moment as you asked, but he continued to play softly as he went on to speak.

“I’m not used to staying in one place for long. I haven’t lived here incredibly long, but sometimes I have to fight that urge to just pack up and go. Being in my apartment makes that feeling, that urge stronger. Being up here makes it feel easier, because I’m not stuck in some room. I’m just up here with the sky.”

You nodded as he explained, humming softly in lieu of a response. He took your questioning as an opportunity himself.

“You come up here when you’re overwhelmed. What’s on your mind?”

A sigh escaped you before you spoke softly, “A lot. I’ve lived here nearly six months, and it’s been… weird. Moved here for a job that fired me. Haven’t made an actual friend yet. My now ex-boyfriend gave up on our relationship. Lots of little things stacking into a pile that is currently tipping over.”

He continued playing as he listened and for a while you wondered if he was going to respond at all. Eventually he did, but it wasn’t the response you’d expected.

“You have me.”

“What?”

“I just- You said you haven’t made an actual friend yet,” he shrugged softly, “I’d say you have. Me.”

It took a moment — and you could see the nerves rising in him as you processed his words — but a grin split across your face.

“Thanks, Wilbur.”

He chuckled, and you could just barely spot the pink tint on his cheeks. “You make good company,” he reached for the bottle again, taking another sip as he spoke.

“So do you.” You drank a bit more as well, and the two of you fell back into comfortable silence.

You both stayed out there until the bottle was empty, chatting lightly every now and then, but mostly just staying quiet while Wilbur played soft tunes. When you went back downstairs to your respective apartments, Wilbur kept an arm wrapped around you to keep you from drunkenly stumbling your way down the stairs. It wasn’t stressful or anything, both of you muffling laughter to try and prevent any complaints. He walked you to your door, staying with you to make sure you got inside your apartment.

Once you had the door open, you walked in, but turned and leaned against the doorway to talk with him for a moment.

He smiled softly at you, speaking in hushed tones, “Have a good night, Y/N.”

You smiled back up at him, “You too, Wilbur.”

He turned and walked across the hall to his apartment, getting his door open. Before he could close the door behind him, you called out softly.

“Hey, Wilbur?”

He turned, looking back at you curiously.

“Thank you.”

His smile widened, eyes bright.

“Don’t worry about it. And if you ever need company again, don’t hesitate to ask, alright?”

You nodded, before walking into your apartment, and heading to bed feeling relieved and light despite everything that should’ve made you feel otherwise.

four

If there was any way to describe you, it was stubborn. Hence why, despite the severe cold and fever you had, you were still working. You were working from home on some graphic design for a law firm, so it wasn’t particularly hard, but the fever was definitely impacting your ability to actually understand the task you were supposed to be working on.

Despite most of your work being done from home, you still made it a habit to leave your apartment at least twice a week to stop you from going completely stir-crazy. You followed a routine. Once a week you’d go out to get groceries and a coffee, and the second day was up to you to figure out what to do. Wilbur made that easier. Your rooftop trips became a common habit, usually going up there once a week, sometimes with snacks or drinks, to just talk. In a matter of about two months, he quickly became your best friend, and even though it was getting cold outside, you’d always gladly jump at the opportunity to head up with him and just exist. It was also nice to have him living across the hall; it made living in a new city easier to have your closest friend mere steps away.

It also made it easy for him to notice your routine. More importantly, it made it easier for him to notice when your routine was off. Like this week, when you decided to forgo going out for groceries, deciding that you’d just deal with what you had since you weren’t feeling well enough to actually leave your apartment. That was the first time he noticed something was wrong.

The second time was when he texted you, asking if you wanted to go up to the roof that night. You replied, that wasn’t the problem. The problem was what the reply said.

‘ m niur sure im nto feelkibt to o good’

Your phone buzzed with his reply, a series of question marks that you couldn’t honestly gather the strength to reply to. You tried, for sure, but your message was less legible than the first, so you didn’t bother sending it. Because of how close you two had gotten, you’d also swapped emergency keys. Primarily because one night you dropped your key on the way in and had to take temporary residence on his couch while you waited for your apartment’s office to open, so you could get a replacement made.

When he got that text, it worried him even more. When you didn’t respond to his follow-up, it made him worry enough to go knock on your door. You didn’t even hear the knock, head foggy from a mixture of sickness and attempts to focus. That brought an entire other wave of concern to Wilbur, and he felt panic begin to bubble up in his chest.

He pulled out your spare key, opening the door quickly and eyes scanning the room.

“Y/N?” He called out, seeing you sitting on your couch, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders as you stared helplessly at your laptop screen.

You looked up, eyes taking a moment to focus. “Wilbur?” Your voice sounded weak, and your nose was clearly stuffed, “What are you doing here?”

He relaxed when his eyes met yours, walking over to you.

“I got worried. Your text was… less than readable. Plus, you didn’t answer when I knocked.” He looked over at your computer, “What are you doing?”

You groaned, tipping your head back. “Trying to work.”

“While sick?”

“I’m not that sick. Just a cold.”

He raised an eyebrow, walking closer and placing a hand on your forehead. “You definitely do not just have a cold. When’s your deadline?”

“Next week,” you sighed, “But I want to figure it out sooner.”

“And how’s that working for you?” He chuckled a bit, “If your text is anything to go off, I strongly doubt you’re doing your best work right now.”

You huffed softly, closing your eyes for a moment, “Maybe I’ll take a break-“

“Nope! You’re done for today,” he hummed, happily picking up your laptop and moving it to the side table.

“Will,” you whined out. Before you could even try to argue, you started coughing into your arm, gasping a bit for breath.

He cringed a bit, but he gladly fought his own hypochondriatic thoughts to make sure you were alright.

“Have you taken any medicine?” He hummed, walking over to your pantry and opening it. You’d be more baffled by his behaviour if it weren’t for the fact that raiding each other’s pantry was usually the first thing either of you did when you came over anyways.

“Not since this morning.”

He nodded, grabbing something from the pantry. From your spot on the couch, you couldn’t see what he was grabbing, but he didn’t even give you a chance to look before walking over.

“Go take a warm shower and put on comfy clothes, okay? You can take the medicine after. Sounds good?”

As stubborn as you were, it honestly sounded fucking fantastic. Maybe the sickness made you weaker, but you sighed, slowly standing. He reached his hands out, just in case you wobbled or fell.

“Do you need help getting there?” He asked. Normally, someone asking that would make you want to kick them out and crawl into a hole to die, but with Wilbur, you sensed no malice or judgement in his tone, only genuine care and concern. Regardless, you shook your head, stabilising yourself enough to walk to your room.

Your shower was quick, but the warm water did wonders. Your muscles felt immediately better, and your headache finally weakened just enough to make it feel relieving. Plus, you put on a big hoodie and some long pajama pants which helped you feel much more relaxed than the stiff clothing you’d been wearing before. You walked back out into your living room, seeing Wilbur standing at your stove.

“Will? What are you doing?” You chuckled, walking over.

He smiled, “I made soup. Go sit, it’s almost done.” “Did you make any for yourself?”

He faltered a bit, “Uh, no, I didn’t, why?”

You frowned, “Make yourself some too, please. I feel bad.”

“Will it mean you letting me take care of you?”

You nodded, and he sighed softly, a fond smile on his face. “Alright. Do you want to eat at the same time as me, or would you prefer now?” “Same time as you.”

“I should’ve guessed that,” he chuckled, “Okay. Just relax, put something on the TV. I’ll bring you the food and medicine once it’s done.”

You nodded, footsteps padding across the floor as you returned to the couch, this time curling up on your side, against the edge of the couch. You turned on some light music, knowing you wouldn’t have the energy to actually watch anything you could turn on. You closed your eyes, trying to relax as you fought off coughs and nausea waves.

You could hear Wilbur humming in the kitchen, and you smiled lightly. As stubborn as you were, it felt nice to have someone taking care of you. Especially since it was someone you trusted as much as Wilbur. You let yourself start to drift off as waves of exhaustion rolled over you.

You woke up from Wilbur gently shaking your shoulder.

“I’m sorry to wake you, but you need to eat,” he spoke quietly, not wanting to startle you awake.

“Mm’kay,” you groaned out a bit, slowly sitting up.

He helped you sit up, smiling and holding up the bowl. “Do you want to hold it or sit at the counter?”

You reached for the bowl, “If I move, I’ll probably cry,” you joked. He passed the bowl to you, and he sat down next to you with his own bowl. You started eating slowly, thankful that the soup wasn’t too hot.

“This is really good,” you smiled softly at him, “thank you, Wilbur.”

He smiled, “you really don’t have to thank me. I want to take care of you.”

You flushed lightly, looking down at your bowl and continuing to eat quietly.

“Do you want me to put on a movie or something?” He asked softly.

You nodded, and he took the remote, putting on some random movie. It wasn’t long before you finished your soup, relieved at the feeling of having food in your stomach. Once he finished, he stood, taking both your bowl and his own to the kitchen. He walked back over with the medicine, holding it out for you.

You took the medicine easily, groaning at the taste. Wilbur was quick to hand you a glass of water before returning to the kitchen and cleaning up. When he got back, he sat next to you, placing a hand to your forehead.

“Your temperature feels better now.” He noted, letting his hand fall.

You gently shifted, your head now leaning against his shoulder, “I still feel like shit.”

He chuckled, and an arm wrapped around you, causing you to lean into his warmth further, “The medicine should kick in soon. You should’ve told me sooner, and you shouldn’t have been working. It only makes it harder for your body to heal.”

You groaned, “I thought I was fine. I never get sick like this.”

He hummed, gently rubbing your back and God, if it didn’t feel amazing, “You’ve been dealing with a lot lately. You need rest.”

You sighed and nodded, “I know.”

“Just relax, alright?” he smiled, “I’m not going anywhere. Not until you’re better.”

Your heart warmed at the thought. You nodded before shifting and laying your head on his lap. “Is this okay?”

He nodded, a hand coming to gently thread through your hair, “Of course. You can sleep, if you’d like. I’ll be here.”

You smiled, eyes closing slowly. “Thank you, Wilbur,” you spoke softly, exhausting creeping into your bones and clear in your voice.

“Don’t worry about it. I want you to be okay.”

You fell asleep quickly, a soft smile on your face.

five

Things were starting to look up. Your freelance work was bringing in good money, and even better, you had a date tonight. However, it had been a long while since you’d gone on a date. So, you frankly had no clue what to wear.

You took a quick shower, putting on a robe and blowdrying your hair. Once you were at least semi-presentable, you walked across the hall, knocking on Wilbur’s door.

He opened the door quickly, a smile on his face, “Hey, what’s going on?” He chuckled softly.

You just smiled, “I have no clue what to wear. Can you help me pick?” He nodded, grabbing his keys and locking his door before following you to your apartment.

“Just, sit on the couch, I’ll be right back.”

He sat down, smiling softly. Wilbur always looked good, and he happened to be cursed with either amazing or horrible fashion sense. Today was one of his amazing fashion sense days, a pair of nice jeans and a simple black button-up, plus a sweater over the top and the black Docs he always wore. He would definitely be able to help you choose.

You walked into your closet, grabbing two options and walking back out to him, “Which one?”

He looked over the two options, thinking, “The black one. It’s a lot more date-night vibe, plus you’ve said that top makes you feel more confident.”

You grinned, nodding quickly before going back to your room to change. You spent a bit more time getting ready, making sure your accessories were nice, fixing up your hair and your face a bit before taking a deep breath. You checked the time, only ten minutes until your date.

You walked back out, looking at him with a soft smile, “So? What do you think?”

He looked up from his phone, and a grin slowly spread across his face, “You look amazing. Seriously, you look absolutely fantastic.”

A flush spread across your cheeks, looking down a bit shyly, “Thank you, Wilbur. For your help, as well.”

He nodded, standing, “Of course. You know I’m always here if you need help,” he looked back down at his phone before he looked up at you, “So, you ready to go?” He grinned, holding his hand out towards you.

“I’m ready,” you smiled, taking his hand, “Where are we going, by the way?”

He chuckled, walking with you out the door, “It’s a surprise. It won’t be a long walk, though, don’t worry.” He smiled, and the two of you were off for your date.

Freelance work sometimes meant traveling. You hated being away from Wilbur, since you guys spent nearly every day seeing each other. However, there was a job a short flight away that was paying really well, so you took it and had spent four days on this trip. You were supposed to be there for a week, but you’d finished a lot faster than anticipated, so you were able to head home early.

There was another reason you wanted to head home early too. Wilbur hadn’t responded to you in the past three days, aside from occasionally liking the messages you sent and sending the occasional heart. This wasn’t something new, there were days when Wilbur didn’t have the energy to leave his bed, let alone send a proper response. What worried you was that this was the first time you weren’t physically there to help him through it. So when you got the approval to head home early, you jumped at the opportunity and immediately booked your plane home.

You stopped at your apartment first, dropping off your bags and changing into one of Wilbur’s hoodies and a pair of sweatpants before walking over to his apartment. You unlocked his door, a normal thing for the two of you now, walking in slowly. There were takeout boxes cluttering the kitchen, along with empty and half-filled cups littered throughout the apartment. You walked over to his room.

The lights were off, but you could see the light from his phone on his bed. He was asleep, his phone left open on some random post he’d been scrolling on. You locked his phone and put it on the charger, leaning over and gently kissing his forehead. He didn’t react other than shifting a bit in his sleep. You looked over him quietly. There were bags under his eyes, so he clearly hadn’t been sleeping much, and you could tell from the pile of laundry that he hadn’t done much to take care of himself. You let him rest, returning to the living room to start cleaning up.

You spent an hour throwing things away and taking out the trash, and after, you washed the dirty dishes and dried them, putting them all back in the specific place he’d always put them. You wiped down some of the surfaces as well, knowing how he got sometimes about germs. You went to his room next, picking up all the clothes from the floor and taking them to the washing machine. You organized his desk as well, moving cluttered papers and notes of song lyrics and stacking them into a nice pile. You had your back turned to him as you dusted his room a bit, and you heard his voice.

“Darling?” He spoke softly, voice a bit raw from lack of use.

You turned, walking over to him and smiling, “Hi, Will.” You leaned down, gently kissing him.

He kissed you back lovingly, reaching a hand up to gently cup your cheek. When you’d pulled away, his thumb gently stroked over your cheek.

“What are you doing back already?”

You smiled softly, lightly brushing back some of his messy hair, “Finished the project early. Plus, I missed you.”

He cracked a gentle smile, arms slowly coming and wrapping around you. You let him pull you into the bed, wrapping your arms around him as well.

“I missed you too,” you murmured against your shoulder.

You held him tightly, the both of you lying there quietly for a while.

“How are you feeling?” you asked softly, looking at him with concern.

He looked ashamed for a moment, head falling a bit, “Not great.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” He nodded after a while, taking a deep breath, “Just one of those times, I guess. I- I don’t really know what triggered it, I think my heartbeat was just a bit too fast the other night, and I was just so sure that this was it for me. And I just got so scared that I couldn’t do anything. It just ended up getting worse, and even if I don’t think I’m dying anymore, it just triggered a lot of bad thoughts, I guess. After a day, even standing felt exhausting. I felt paralyzed.” He sighed, and you gently kissed his forehead.

“Well, you’re not dead. You’re right here with me. You’re okay,” you spoke softly, staring at him lovingly. It wasn’t often that his hypochondria overtook him so much, but you knew how hard it was when it did, even if you didn’t fully understand it.

He nodded. “I know, I am. It just all got a bit overwhelming.”

“That’s okay. It happens to all of us sometimes. You don’t have to feel bad for it, alright?”

He nodded, hugging you tighter. “Thank you,” he whispered out.

You kissed the top of his head, “You don’t have to thank me, okay? I’m here for you, throughout everything.”

He squeezed you tighter for a second before relaxing, just holding you gently as he nodded.

“How long have you been back?” He asked softly.

“A few hours,” you shrugged.

He frowned, “I’m sorry. You should’ve woken me up.”

You shook your head, “Don’t apologize. Plus, I made good use of my time.”

He tilted his head, “What do you mean?”

You smiled, gently playing with his hair, “I just cleaned up a bit. I wanted you to rest, and I wanted you to wake up to a clean place. I know that mess stresses you out, and I didn’t want it to add to the bad feelings.”

He looked up at you, and he looked around the room after, processing the lack of clothes on the floor and trash. When he looked back at you, he had tears in his eyes, “thank you,” he whispered, biting his lip and holding you close again, “you’re the fucking best.”

You smiled fondly, “Don’t worry about it, really. I want to take care of you the same way you take care of me.”

He sniffled a bit, and you pulled him forward while he cried into your shoulder for a moment.

You let him cry as much as he needed to, rubbing his back. When he’d stopped crying, you pulled away, looking down at him. “When’s the last time you showered?” You asked softly, no judgement to be found anywhere in your tone.

He thought for a moment, “Three days ago, I think. I don’t remember, if I’m being honest.”

You nodded, smiling softly, “Well, I just got off a plane, so I’m pretty gross myself. Let’s shower, and then we can change your sheets? And I can make us some dinner?”

He nodded as well, sitting up slowly, “Okay.”

You sat up with him, holding his hand the entire time, “Rooftop dinner tonight?”

He smiled, bringing your hand up to his mouth, kissing it gently, “Yeah. That sounds really nice.”

#wilbur soot x reader #wilbur soot #mcyt x reader #dsmp x reader #mar writes #wilbur x reader #mcyt x you #wilbur soot x you #wilbur soot fanfiction #mcytumblr #mcyt wilbur

652 notes · View notes

ellitlou · 1 year ago

Text

♪ CHERRY CONTACT ♪ part 1

pairing modern!ellie x cousins best friend!reader

synopsis ellie, you, and your best friend clara had spent every summer together since you were ten. ellie decided not to come for four entire summers, and it was just you and clara. this summer, ellie finally comes back, and she’s different. she’s hot. your harmless, childish crush isn’t so childish anymore.

warnings ! - smut, oral sex+fingering reader receiving, ellie teasing you a lot, also my first fic so pls lmk if i should do something differently!

playlist

Cruel Summer - Taylor Swift

Cherry Flavored - The Neighborhood

Ribs - Lorde

Stargazing - The Neighborhood

Stargirl Interlude - The Weeknd

you always wore the same cherry flavored lip gloss. it made your lips the perfect subtle shade of red that you just loved. plus, it tasted good.

your best friend, clara, was more of a clear lipgloss girl, but she still teased you over your obsession with the lipgloss.

it was a summer in your town, and one hot day you’d noticed you ran out of one of the tubes you had. you’d expected you’d run out soon, but unfortunately you didn’t prepare. you still searched through your makeup bag for a spare, but it was no use.

you slipped on your shoes and grabbed your keys and bag and walked towards the door. “i’m gonna go to the store!” you shouted for your mother to hear. “okay!” she shouted back.

you weren’t only going to the store for the lipgloss, of course, you needed a few other things, but the lack of the lipgloss at least got you out of bed.

as you were walking to your car, that’s when you noticed your best friends cousin had arrived. your friend, clara, had been telling you how excited she was to see her cousin, ellie. you looked across the street and saw the taller girl, being welcomed by your best friend. after they shared a hug, clara noticed you and waved. you blocked the sun from your eyes to get a better look and then waved back and got in your car.

ellie was a lot different now, you realized. you met ellie when you were ten and ellie was eleven, eight years ago when clara had her over for the summer. you guys swam together and had so many fun sleepovers. now, ellie was a lot taller from what you could see, and her hair was shorter.

later on, once you got back from the store, you were walking in with your bags. you then got a call from clara, which you struggled to pick up.

“hello?” you said, trying to unlock the door, although it was extremely difficult with one hand, full of bags.

“ellie’s here!” clara practically screamed over the phone.

“i saw.” you laughed, successfully getting the door open.

“you should come over.”

“one sec—“ you put the phone on the counter.

“mom, i got the shampoo you wanted!” you shouted, before grabbing your bag of stuff and walking back towards your room.

“when do you want me to?” you asked, picking the phone back up.

“uhh like now?” clara said in a sarcastic tone.

“you’re gonna have to give me a minute, gotta change and stuff.” you said, laughing at clara’s tone.

“we’re gonna go swimming, so bring a swim suit!” clara insisted. she then hung up, and you threw your phone back on the bed.

the entire exchange reminded you of your childhood together.

once ellie came over, clara would call your mom on her mom’s phone. you would normally pick up and clara would beg for you to come over. then, you would beg your mom and eventually she’d give in. once you got there, you guys with you stupid childish things, but it would be fun. it was always so fun. you often found yourself during the months of december and november longing for it to be summer simply because of those days.

“hey thanks for the shampoo. you going to claras?” your mom stood at your door way while you looked for a swim suit top. you didn’t have a pool, but clara did, so every time you were in your swim suit or getting your swim suit, your mom knew where you’d be going.

“yep, ellie’s there.” you said, smiling.

“oh really? it’s been a while since you’ve seen her, huh?” your mom said.

“yep, im pretty excited.” you beamed.

“have fun kiddo, text me.” your mom said, walking back up to her room.

“i will!” you confirmed, before closing your door to change.

you adjusted your bag with your change of clothes and pajamas in it as you walked towards clara’s house. you had just applied your trusty cherry lipgloss and you felt ready. still, you were nervous. for the past four years, you spent your summers with clara and some school friends. ellie wasn’t apart of the picture. ellie had moved further away then, and she spent summer with a lot of her new friends. now, ellie was planning on moving to where you and clara lived, and clara was ecstatic. you weren’t super excited necessarily, because it’s been four entire years. what if ellie was different? what if summer was different? you were far to attached to your summer nostalgia to even accept that fate, but you knew there was only one way of knowing, and that included finally ringing your best friends doorbell instead of standing around.

you pushed the button, standing back before hearing a soft running sound towards the door. the door swung open, revealing an extremely excited clara.

“hey! i’m so excited!” she exclaimed, leading you by the arm into the house. “i’ll put your bag upstairs.” clara said before grabbing your bag. “ellie’s already by the pool.” she shouted from midway up the stairs. “‘kay” you shouted back, walking towards the sliding doors. once you stepped out, that’s when you saw her up close. she was sitting by the pool, feet dangling in the water. she was wearing a green ribbed tank top and black shorts. her figure was a lot more muscular, and you noticed she had a tattoo. she was different…she was hotter.

ellie noticed you and put her head back, looking at you upside down. she smiled, before turning around and standing up.

“hey y/n.” her voice was deeper. she walked over to give you a hug and that’s when you fully noticed the height difference. “it’s nice to see you ellie.” you said, before she embraced you, her frame hugged yours.

she smelled warm, but also like trees and pine cone. you couldn’t get enough of the smell.

“you look good.” ellie said when she leaned back. she walked towards a table where she had her phone, and quickly checked it before putting it back down. you walked over to the same table and began taking off your outer clothes and leaving your bathing suit.

“you too.” you smirked, before pulling your shirt over your head.

“damn!” you heard behind you, which was clara, walking out with a tray of drinks. “you look good! and i made some margaritas, they may not be good, but i tried.” clara said, setting the tray down.

“ooh sounds good.” you wiggled your eyebrows, before taking a sip. your face immediately went sour. “you weren’t wrong.”

“can’t be that bad.” ellie said, grabbing one. her face reacted immediately. “it’s…strong.”

“oh come on! i tried!” clara pouted.

“let’s just go swimming.” ellie suggested, before stripping from her black jean shorts. it revealed a matching green bikini bottom, showing off her body. “let’s go!” clara said, then she threw off her shirt and jumped in.

you and ellie looked at each other for a moment and she laughed, before walking towards the steps. clara came up and looked directly at you after she cleared her eyes.

“jump in!” she insisted. you took a deep breath before walking towards the deep end. “come on, you got this!” clara cheered. you ran and jumped in, adrenaline taking over before you hit the freezing cold water. it wasn’t really that cold, but you just weren’t used to it.

“shit!” you screamed when you came up, running your hands over your hair.

you three played in the pool, laughing, splashing each other. it was honestly the most fun you’d had since ellie hadn’t come back four summers ago. you three were sitting on the ledge together, drying off.

“i’m glad you came back ellie.” you said, looking towards her. she was drying her hair with a towel when she looked over.

“i’m glad i did too.” she smiled.

“let’s watch a movie after we get showers.” clara said, standing up and making her way towards the door.

you sat against the bed, on your phone after your shower. clara laid on the bed behind you.

“why exactly did ellie not come back?” you asked clara. she stared at her phone, not looking away.

“clara.” you called her. “huh?” she looked over.

“why didn’t ellie come back?” you asked again.

“i dunno…friends i guess?” she said. “but i think she had a lover.” she raised her eyebrows. you turned around and looked at her.

“really?”

“i mean, i’m not sure. but why else would you ditch the coolest cousin ever and her best friend and the most awesome summer experience? a girlfriend…or boyfriend.” she said.

“maybe…who knows.” you said.

“hey guys.” ellie walked in, wearing a black tee-shirt and plaid pajama pants.

“hey, what movie do you guys wanna watch?” clara got up, walking out of her room. ellie and you followed.

“anything, let’s browse.” ellie said.

then, the doorbell rang. “oh! it’s the food.” clara said, running towards the door.

you and ellie sat on the couch. you got another smell of her, this time she smelled a lot more like warm vanilla. maybe it was her shampoo, you weren’t sure. she turned to look at you, and you looked back. you guys were just staring for a second, and you opened your mouth to say something, but clara walked in with the food.

“get your food guys!” clara said, dropping the bags on the table.

you all grabbed your drinks and your food and picked out a movie, which you settled on a horror movie. you guys always watched horror movies during your summers, but when you were kids you had to hide it a lot more. now, you watch them freely.

you and ellie sat next to each other for the entire movie, and feeling her thigh against yours was making you go crazy. you started to realize what you were feeling when she reached over to steal a fry and her chest rested against your shoulder. you wanted her. not just as a friend, but more.

“uh, i’ll be right back.” you said, in the middle of the movie. you walked towards the bathroom and closed the door, resting against the door. this reminded you of when you were kids, again. you remember having a silly crush on ellie. she was funny, cute, and everything you liked. she would tease you a lot and you loved it. you loved when you guys got to share the mattress next to clara’s bed because when you turned your back, ellie would poke your back and tickle you when you least expected it. now that you were older, it didn’t feel like a silly crush anymore. she made you nervous; she made you quiver. you could barely breathe when she got too close. this was too real, and god you hated it. you reached into your back pocket, grabbing your favorite cherry lipgloss, and applied it before sticking it back. it made you feel more at peace if you had it on, as weird as it sounds.

you walked back in a few minutes later, and you sat back in between ellie and clara.

“you good?” ellie asked.

“yeah! i’m good.” you smiled, and clara unpaused the movie.

“you still wear that lipgloss, huh?” ellie whispered. you turned your head, your faces dangerously close. your breath hitched, and you couldn’t move. before you made it weird, you replied.

“yeah..”

“cool.” ellie said, turning back towards the movie.

once the movie was over, you noticed both ellie and clara were asleep. you quietly paused the credits, and tried to stand up without waking them up. this happened a lot during the summer, either it was you and clara, or it was clara and ellie. after a movie, at least someone would pass out. at like 2am you’d wake up with a sore neck and make your way to the bed. it happened like that every time.

you definitely weren’t really tired, so you went up to clara’s room, and laid on her bed, playing on your phone. still, random tiktoks couldn’t distract you from your lingering feelings. you realized you needed fresh air, so you went to your favorite spot. clara has a window that leads to the roof, so you climbed out and sat up there. she had an area where she put blankets for everyone to stargaze, but you guys obviously didn’t get to it tonight. you climbed over and sat on the blanket. this part of the roof was actually made for people to be able to sit on, so it wasn’t hard to get on and it was private. you laid back, watching the stars for a little while.

around an hour later, you heard the window creek open further, and ellie climbed out. “ah, so this is where you ran off to.” she said, climbing over to you. she sat next to you, looking up at the stars. “clara’s in bed, she left the same mattress for us, but i set up the couch for me to sleep on.” ellie said. “you don’t have to.” you replied. “you sure?” she laid back and looked at you. “yeah.” you said, after turning and looking at you. “the stars are pretty.” ellie said, turning to look back at the sky. “they are. they look like your freckles.” you joked.

“you always say that.” she smiled, looking back towards you. silence lingered for a few minutes, and you both continued looking at the stars.

“you know, it actually was a girlfriend. i had a girlfriend back in wyoming, that’s why i stayed.” ellie admitted. you didn’t say anything for a moment.

“so you heard?” you asked, smirking. “well you aren’t exactly super quiet.” ellie teased.

“was it serious?” you asked, realizing how stupid the question was. she blew off four years of summers with her cousin just to be with a girl; of course it was serious.

“i guess so. but she kinda sucked.” ellie said.

“how so?” you asked.

“she was great, for the first two years at least, but then she became, i don’t know, mean?” ellie said. “she started being weird and saying i changed too much or that i was becoming too masculine.” she said. “we kissed a lot, but other than that, it wasn’t really romantic. i eventually realized we were kind of better off friends.” she continued. “of course when i said that, she broke up with me on the spot last summer.” ellie said.

“damn, i’m sorry.” you said.

“nah its okay. i’m not worried about it.” ellie said.

“you seeing anyone?” ellie asked. you glanced towards her, wondering why she was asking. maybe you were delusional, but you started to wonder if it’s because she was into you too, but it was definitely too soon to know.

“uh..no.” you said.

“how come? you seem like you could pull anyone.” she said. your stomach started to whirl, and you laughed.

“i guess, but i’m just not interested.” you admitted.

“makes sense.” ellie said.

ellie turned towards you for a second before sitting up.

“you changed a lot you know? in a good way.” she said.

“you too.” you admitted.

“honestly, you looked amazing in your bikini.” ellie said. you froze. did she really just say that? it was just out of no where.

“what?” you said.

“shit, sorry, i didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” ellie started to sit up, but you stopped her by grabbing her shoulder.

she looked back, this time your faces even closer than before.

“it didn’t make me uncomfortable.” you said. “it didn’t?” she asked.

“you looked good in yours too.” you said, your faces inching closer. “fuck it.” ellie said, connecting your lips immediately. when your lips collided, a million thoughts started to race through your brain, but the only thing you focus on was how her hand was touching your waist. you leaned, back, making eye contact with her. her eyes looked extremely lustful and her lips were coated in your cherry lipgloss.

“i always wanted to know what your lipgloss tasted like.” ellie smirked, you smiled back before connecting your lips again, this time throwing your leg over hers and sitting on her lap. she ran her hands down your waist and to your ass, before she gave it a tight squeeze. you moaned into the kiss, and you could feel her smile. she turned you over, not breaking the kiss while she ran her hands under your sweater. you broke the kiss and looked at her again.

“is this okay?” she asked. “yeah, but should we do this out here?” you asked.

“no one can see us.” she said, before kissing you again. you leaned back a little, letting her pull off your sweater, which revealed a white see-through bra. “fuck.” she whispered, before reaching to unhook your bra, which you assisted her with. once it loosened, she immediately began massaging them, and kissing your neck. she kissed all the way down towards your breasts, and began sucking and licking your hard nipples. “you have the prettiest boobs i’ve ever fucking seen.” she said.

you laughed, throwing your head back for a second. “thank you.” you said. she then leaned down towards your face and kissed you again, this time it was very slow and passionate, full of lust and longing for one another.

ellie then positioned herself in front of you and began kissing down your neck again. she went all the way down your torso, which you moaned at, because she left a few hickeys around your belly button. once she got to your elastic shorts, she ran her hands underneath them.

“can i?” she asked, before she pulled them off. “mmhm.” you said, eagerly. she smiled at your eagerness, before pulling them down. they revealed matching see-through underwear, which she was immediately in awe at.

“god, you’re gonna make me lose my fucking mind.” she said.

“shut up.” you laughed. she smirked before she began kissing you softly around your cunt. once she made her way to your cunt, she kissed your clit softly. “stop teasing.” you joked. “oh, but it’s my favorite thing to do.” she teased, once again. you shook your head, before she began pulling down your underwear, revealing your cunt.

“you’re so pretty.” she said, looking up towards you.

“stop” you said embarrassed.

“you actually want me to?” she asked. you froze for a second and made eye contact with her. her face in front of your pussy, staring up at you. the picture was surreal.

“no.” you spoke.

she leaned towards your cunt, giving your clit another kiss, this time on your bare clit. she then gave your pussy a lick from the bottom to the top.

“fuck.” you leaned back more, resting on your elbows. she began licking your clit faster, her form absolutely amazing, you felt like you couldn’t breathe.

“holy shit.” you moaned out, looking back at ellie, who’s head was face first into your pussy. she began licking your hole, and you knew your wetness was bleeding out onto her tongue. she brought her finger up, sticking one in your cunt slowly.

“oh my god.” you said, surprised but in complete pleasure.

“you like that?” she asked, her voice seemed much deeper.

“mhm.” you moaned out. she began pushing it in and out slowly, while licking your clit. you moaned a little louder this time, but you tried to stay quiet because clara was sleeping.

“please, ellie, faster.” you begged with a moan. she stuck another finger in, her rhythm picking up.

“holy shit i think i’m gonna come.” you said. she started to go faster with her fingers and with her tongue on your clit.

“fuck, ellie!” you moaned out, arching your back as she finger fucked you. the pleasure she was delivering was absolutely unreal. she’s definitely done this before, you thought. right then, you came around her fingers, riding them a bit as you did. she leaned back. “did you come?” she asked. you breathed in and out trying to understand what she was saying.

“yeah, yes i did.” you breathed out, laying back. you stared up at the stars for a few minutes, unsure of what to do now.

“you okay?” ellie asked, looking at you.

“that was amazing.” you said. she smirked, before leaning in and kissing you again. you leaned in towards the kiss, kissing her with the utmost passion, tasting yourself on her tongue, which included the taste of your pussy and your cherry lipgloss. right then, you broke the kiss.

“what time is it?” you asked, picking up your phone.

“we should go to bed.” ellie said, seeing the time reading 3:52am. “yeah for sure.” you said, grabbing your clothes and slipping them back on. you grabbed your phone and climbed back towards the window.

“definitely gonna tease you about how fast you came.” ellie teased.

“shut up.” you nudged her. she almost lost her balance and looked at you in disbelief.

“hey, if i fall off who’s gonna give you more amazing head?” she teased, once again.

“you’re never gonna let this go, are you?” you asked.

“nope.” she smirked.

#ellie williams #ellie tlou #ellie tlou2 #tlou2 ellie imagines #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader #ellie williams smut #the last of us #ellie williams the last of us #ellie williams fanfic #ellie x y/n #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie x you #ellie williams x you #ellie tlou2 smut #ellie imagine #modern!ellie williams

409 notes · View notes

calzone-d · 2 years ago

Text

Only You (Ted Lasso x Fem!Reader)

Pairing: Ted Lasso x Fem!Reader

Summary: You and Ted have a moment in a closet at Roy and Keeley’s wedding.

Warnings: feelings, handjob/oral sex (m receiving), sassy (she is a warning of her own)

Word Count: 3.2k

a/n: i’m back! i’ve missed being active on here and writing, so i’m really excited to get this one posted. my requests are OPEN, so send things in! let me know what you want to see and i’ll either write it into a fic or do some headcanons or we can just talk!

You can find my masterlist here.

————-

It was a warm, sunny Saturday. The perfect day for Roy and Keeley’s wedding. You spent all morning helping Keeley get ready, and by the time she walked down the aisle she was buzzing with excitement. The morning had gone by in a blur, and it wasn’t until right before the ceremony you were able to check your phone.

Ted: Everything going okay?

Y/N: Yeah! We’re almost ready. See you in a few ;)

You and Ted’s friendship had slowly become flirty and more physical over the past few months. Nothing too extreme, but he now greeted you with a smile and a hug in the mornings. When he walked you home after your nights at the pub with him and Beard, a soft kiss on the cheek came after his goodbyes. Your favorite part, though, were the kisses that you now shared during your weekly post-match movie nights.

What started out as a soft peck had now become the occasional make-out session. Other than Sassy, you knew Ted’s sexual experience had been somewhat limited. With that in mind, and his most recent drama with his ex wife, you didn’t want to push him too far too soon. After being his best friend for so long, you’d started developing feelings for him. What you imagined would be the best hookup of your life, wasn’t worth sabotaging your chance of being with him.

You let out a content sigh as you breathed in Ted’s scent. He smelled like laundry detergent, and you could smell the light notes of his cologne from where your face was pressed to his shoulder. He’d chosen a rom-com for this week's post-match movie night.

The couple on scene held each other in a dramatic embrace before partaking in an even more dramatic kiss. Rom-coms weren’t your forté, but you loved hearing Ted ramble about them. Ted’s arm tightened around you while he watched as if he were scared you were going to get up and leave. You slowly lifted an arm from its place tucked between you to drape over his stomach. Ted relaxed even more under your touch as you lightly grabbed at the fabric of his shirt, just reminding him you were there.

As the ending unfolded you didn’t pay much attention, until you heard Ted speaking your name.

“Y/N?”

You tilted your head to look at him, not wanting to move from where you were now halfway in his lap. His face was so close to yours that you could smell the wine on his breath from dinner.

You heard him speak, “Do you want to watch another one? If not I can go-“

“No! None of that, it’s late and you’re buzzed.. You can stay here tonight. You know I don’t mind..”, your eyes were glued to his as he trailed off.

Instead of a response you just got a soft hum. Not that it mattered, you were too busy taking in his features anyway. Your eyes traced from his freckles, to his perfectly pointed nose, and when you reached his lips it’s like a switch flipped in his mind. The hand resting on your shoulder came up to stroke your hair, as it often did, but after a few seconds it moved around to cup your cheek.

You heard him gulp before stuttering, “Can I.. kiss you?”. His eyes slowly searched yours as you responded, “Please.”

Your eyes fluttered closed as he pressed his lips to yours. After a few seconds you both pulled away, hearts racing, and went right back in without missing a beat. As you kissed he held you tight, arms holding onto you in such a gentle Ted-like manner. When he pulled away, your breathing had picked up and your cheeks were flushed, and you could only giggle as you pushed your face back into Ted’s shoulder.

That became a weekly thing. When one of you had a particularly stressful week, when something good happened, when something bad happened. At movie nights and outside the Crown & Anchor after Beard went home. In your office at the club long after everyone had gone home.

Neither of you talked about it. Ted was worried you just wanted to hookup, like Sassy. For you, his feelings were legitimate and the idea of being shot down actually hurt. You were worried he didn’t feel the same, or maybe had legitimate feelings for her. After all, you did hear about his failed attempt at asking her out a few months back. Luckily she hadn’t come around since, and you were hoping it would stay that way.

You and Ted told each other just about everything, and you knew if he’d seen her since, he’d tell you. Deep down, you just hoped the next time she dropped in, she wouldn’t spend the night with Ted.

Your fears were put up to bat as you lined up at the altar. There she was, sitting towards the back by herself. Surprisingly, Keeley didn’t ask her to be part of the bridal party. Since Roy only asked Ted and Beard to be his groomsmen, she felt she should keep it small as well. The smirk Sassy wore made you feel uneasy. As if you knew what her end goal was.

Across the altar, your eyes moved to where Ted stood, and to your surprise he was already staring at you. His cheeks flushed when you caught him, but his smile matched yours.

After the ceremony everyone headed to the reception. It was glamorous, perfect for Keeley. Once everyone gave their speeches you snuck away to the bar. The feeling of a warm hand against your back made you jump.

“Hi angel”, you knew that voice anywhere.

You spun around to see Ted there, hair neatly combed, mustache freshly trimmed. He must’ve noticed your admiration when his cheeks blushed once again.

“Hi, Ted. Dance floor get too busy for you?”, he chuckled at your response.

“Right on, LeBron. You know me, just busting out the dance moves.”, his statement made you both chuckle.

The bartender brought your drink as Ted moved closer to you to get out of the waiter’s way. He didn’t move from where he was pressed to half of your back, though. Instead, he brought a hand up to rest on your hip. As you sipped your drink, his thumb softly stroked where your dress showed your warm skin.

He leaned in to whisper in your ear, “So what’dya say we-“

“Ted!!”, Sassy’s voice was loud as she approached your other side. Ted’s hand didn’t move, if anything he actually held you tighter, which had you smirking into your drink.

“Well, Hi, Sassy.”

“I was wondering if you’d like a guest in your hotel room tonight? You know, like-“

Ted politely cut her off, “I’ll pass, Sassy. But I hope you have a fun night!”

“What?”, she sounded shocked at his opposition.

“No, thank you, Sassy.”, by now you’d ordered another drink as you sat in the middle of a now-awkward conversation.

“But I thought we had a thing going on? Is that not what we do?”, she sounded almost offended.

“We used to, but it’s not the same anymore-“ Ted’s hand lightly squeezed at your hip as he spoke. “I don’t think we need to continue all that, Sassy. But I wish you the best! There’s lots of guys here that would love to-“, although he stayed polite her expression was one of annoyance and possibly disbelief.

“You know what? That’s fine, Ted-“ she glanced at you as she cut him a clearly fake smile, “You two have a good night.”

You and Ted stayed silent as she walked away, and both let out a sigh of relief the second she was gone.

Ted let out a whistle, “Well that was-“

“Yeah”, you chuckled with him.

“Didn’t want a night with Sassy Smurf?”, you tried acting nonchalant but you were eager to hear what he had to say.

Ted glanced down to where his hand was still holding you before responding, “You know, uh- I don’t- I’m not really interested in that anymore.”

“No?”

“Somethin’ else I’d rather do with my night”, his smile was bright as you began to grin.

“Oh? And what’s that?”, you teased.

His eyes darted around the room before he leaned in, his breath hot on your ear, “Lemme show you, darlin’”.

You looked up to meet his mischievous eyes as you bit your lip in excitement.

No words were spoken as Ted led you out of the ballroom and through a hallway, into a small empty office. No words were needed, though. You’d follow Ted wherever.

Your eyes traveled over his figure and how well it filled out his suit while he shut the door, locked it, and pulled the blinds over the small window.

His hands were characteristically stuffed into his pockets as he looked at you with the same admiration.

“Y’look beautiful, y/n.”, you could tell he meant every bit of the word.

“Thank you. So do you.”

“Good for Roy and Keeley, huh?”

“Oh, yeah. It’s been a long time coming.”, you softly mused.

Ted only stared at you as you waited for him to respond.

“What was this for, Ted? Are you feeling okay?”

Ted let out a soft chuckle as he came closer to where you stood against the wall.

“Oh, me? I’m fine as frog’s hair, just needed a minute alone with you.”, his arms opened as he met your figure and you went into them without hesitation. They were strong and intentional in the way they held you to him. He pulled away slightly, but didn’t dare let go of you.

Before you could say another word, he leaned down and pressed his lips to yours. Both of his hands gently cupped your cheeks and his thumbs softly stroked the skin there.

There was no rush as your lips softly met, parted, and met again. It was slow and deliberate. Every move was calculated. When you breathed in, you could smell so much of him, you thought you’d get a high from it. Your hands grasped the sides of his tuxedo, holding him close. One of your hands moved up to softly stroke the side of his face, and your insides burst into flames at the way it made him sigh into your kiss.

Ted slid a hand to your hip and used the leverage to inch you backwards against the wall. You slid your hands under the coat of his tuxedo rubbing softly at his back and holding him to you. Ted’s lips, more wet now, pressed against the corner of yours as he whispered, “S’this alright?”.

“Mhm”, you hummed in agreement as his lips traveled across your jaw. The hairs of his mustache tickled, but all you could focus on was the warm, wet kisses he began pressing to your skin. It was your turn to let out a sigh as he made his way down your neck and to your collarbones before pausing at your ear.

Sure, you’d kissed before. You’d even had a couple makeout sessions, but it never went this far. This was new, and it had the hot feeling of desire pooling deep inside you.

“Only want you, y’know that?”

If the new sensation of him kissing your neck weren’t enough, the admission of his feelings almost sent you into shock.

Your mouth fell open as he continued to nip and lick at your pulse point.

When you didn’t respond, he stopped and pulled away to meet your eyes.

“Y/n? You okay?”

“Y-yeah I just… Feels good, Teddy..”

You could see him grow more confident from your words. You could feel him grow more needy against your hipbone.

“Can I- should we keep going? We can always-“, you stopped his words by pulling him back in. This time when your lips met his, your tongue darted out to tease the sensitive skin of his lips. You could feel his breath hitch as his head tilted to the side in an effort to return the gesture. The way he held your face felt so protective, like he needed you to know he only wanted you.

You grew hot as you both moved faster, and Ted let out the first moan as you reached a hand around to his lower back and used to pull his hips closer to you. It was unmistakable, how turned on Ted was from the way his bulge was firm against your hip. You pulled his face down to where your lips could ghost across his jaw and over to his ear.

“Can I touch you, love?”

A breathy whimper left Ted’s mouth.

“O-of course, only if you want t- oh..”, his words trailed off into a low moan as you softly cupped his bulge through his dress pants. Ted groaned in your ear, only encouraging you even more. Your fingers lightly stroked his cock and he moved to put a hand against the wall before bringing you in for another deep kiss. His tongue immediately began to search for yours, as if it were some holy grail.

The kiss was sloppy. It was wet, messy, driven by built up tension. You traced the zipper of his pants and toyed with the button, silently asking for permission to continue.

“Y/n.. please, hun. Shit..“

The fabric holding the button to the pants seemed as if it were about to pop off as you undid it. Ted’s cock was hot and heavy tucked into his briefs, and for a split second he stopped kissing you to let his head fall onto your shoulder. His lips lazily skirted across your collarbone before biting hard, causing you to give his cock a squeeze. The moan he let out in response was filthy, needy, almost desperate.

“More, Ted?”

“Shit- yes, honey, yes.”

Ted’s eyelashes mimicked butterflies as they fluttered closed. His head fell backwards once you took him into your hand. There were a million ideas of what you could do with him going through your head, but you knew soon enough someone would come looking for you. You needed to know you’d have the chance for more.

“Ted, wait-“

He immediately stiffened and began moving away from you, “Are you okay? Are you hurt?”

You softly chuckled at his concern, “No, no.. I just- I don’t want this to be it.. I just want to make sure we’re on the same page because if not then I think we should stop..”

“What page are you on?”

“I don’t want this to be a one time thing, but I don’t want you to think it’s without feelings either. I have feelings feelings for you.. and-“

Ted cut you off with a gentle kiss, “I hear ya, darlin’. I’m there too. Shoot, we can stop here if you want.”

You flashed him a wicked smile as you squeezed him once more and hummed at the soft groan he let out.

“Just wanted to make sure I’d have the chance to do this again, love.”

“You can do this all you- all you want, sweetheart.. mmm”

You’d pulled his cock out from where it was trapped beneath his boxers. Looking down between the two of you, your mouth was practically watering at the sight of it.

Thick, heavy, tall. A pink angry tip, neatly trimmed hair at the base. Practically begging for the slightest touch from you. It seemed so fitting for the man who was currently melting under your touch.

Leaning your head down, you let a drop of spit fall where your hand was stroking him. The sounds it made were crude, but only turned both of you on more. Ted shoved his face into your shoulder as his moans poured from his lips, but the more you touched him, the louder he grew.

“Ted,” You tilted his head up towards yours, “Gotta be quiet, baby. Don’t want anyone hearing you.. Just me.”

Ted let out a needy whimper against your lips, “Only you, only you- mm”

His words were muffled by your lips as you pulled him in for another kiss. Ted kissed you like it was his sole purpose in life. Hands holding you as close as he could, tongue swirling against yours, hips rocking softly into your hand. Your hand pumped his cock at a steady pace, you were desperate to watch him fall apart for you.

“Oh, m’close- fuck”, he groaned as your hand tightened around him before you pushed him away slightly.

Still stroking him, you sank to your knees.

“Baby you don’t have to..”

His words were breathy, and you could tell he was about to finish. Without a second thought, you placed your swollen lips on the top of his cock while your hand stroked the rest of him.

Almost immediately, hot spurts of his cum hit your tongue. You eased the rest of what you could fit into your mouth as Ted rode out his orgasm. Throaty groans left his mouth as his cock pushed deeper into your throat, and his hands had found a home on your head. You let out a moan of your own after swallowing his release, you’d spent many nights imagining having his cock in your mouth. The real experience was better than you imagined.

As Ted came down from his orgasm, you gently pulled your mouth off him. By the reaction he had from the handjob, you weren’t entirely sure he wouldn’t fall to the floor from a little overstimulation. Not that you wouldn’t want to go there later, but not at your best friend’s wedding.

The sound of the doorknob jiggling broke through the muffled conversations outside, and your heart almost fell out of your chest. You scrambled to stand up while Ted attempted to fix his pants.

“That’s not the bathroom!”, you heard from outside the door. Ted’s blown pupils met yours as you both sighed in relief.

No words were spoken as you both calmed your breathing. Ted’s hand slowly raised to move towards your face, “Oh, you’ve got a little uh..” his words trailed off as he swiped a stray drop of cum from your cheek.

You took his thumb in his mouth before he could do anything else with it, and the groan he let out had you wanting to pull him to the floor right now, wedding be damned.

“Darlin’..”, Ted exhaled.

“Hm?”

“Did you mean that?”

“Mean what?”, your eyebrows furrowed as his eyes looked around the room anxiously.

“The part about the uh- the feelings n’all that”, he sounded like he expected you to shoot him down. His shoulders visibly relaxed at the sound of your breathy chuckle.

“Of course, Ted. Meant every bit of it.”, he flashed you a nervous smile as you brought him in for a kiss.

This time when his lips met yours, he held you in a gentle embrace. When he pulled away his fingers smoothed your hair back into place as best as he could.

“M’glad. Been hoping you’d say that for a while.”

“It was hard finding the words, and then with all you’ve had going on.. I’d rather be here as your best friend who loves you than ruin our relationship because I went too far too fast. One question though..”, you spoke as you slowly moved towards the door. Ted followed you and nodded for you to continue.

“You meant it when you told Sassy no more?”, you cocked a flirty eyebrow at him, but he knew your words weren’t just flirty banter.

“Been meanin’ to do it sooner, actually.”

His words brought a hopeful grin to your face as you both snuck your way back into the wedding.

Thanks for reading! Please like & reblog!

#ted lasso fanfiction #ted lasso fanfic #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso fic #ted lasso imagine #ted lasso fluff #ted lasso smut #ted deserves a handy #i don’t mind volunteering #my writing

680 notes · View notes

christinesficrecs · 1 year ago

Note

Any recs where Talia or the hales absolutely hate stiles or disprove of their relationship? I’ve already read the searching ceremonies.

hedwig221b (don't feel awkward! 🩷) also had a fic that matches this ask. So, go read that as well if you're a fan of the angst.

The Happiest of All by Hedwig221b | 32.5K | Explicit

“It’s every wolf’s dream. To find a perfect mate, to procreate. It’s a necessity, it’s healthy. It’s in our blood; akin to the moon in the sky, a wolf belongs to their mate. And humans don’t have the capacity to become a mate.”“But I love him,” Stiles whispered, begged.Talia stayed silent for a couple of minutes.“That’s why you should understand it’s not healthy for him to be with you,” her words were simple and clear, like a piece of glass, but sharp all the same. “He will not find true happiness with you. You’re wasting his time. Preventing him from having a future he deserves.”

Also, compromised-emotionally suggested this one.

Down By Contact by standinginanicedress | 117.4K | Explicit

Lydia looks over her shoulder to look at Derek Hale again, then back to him. “He’s an asshole, you know.”

“You think I don’t know that?” Stiles is confused, furrowing his brow. “I’ve only spent the last ten years of my life fighting with him.”

“Yeah, but, I mean, he’s an asshole,” she draws the word out nice and long, as if it takes on a different meaning depending on exactly how she says it. “No one who has ever dated or hooked up with that guy has ever had anything nice to say about him after the fact.”

“What do I care about that?”

She looks at him. It’s that all-knowing, all-seeing gaze, like the eye of Mordor. Stiles feels tiny under its wrath, so he looks away and stares down at his beer can, traces the design with his thumb. “I know you, Stiles Stilinski.”

“Not really. We only dated for, like, five months.”

With a snort, totally uncharacteristic of her and something she would never do sober, she rolls her eyes. “Gee, I wonder why.”

Hmmm. Not really, but here are a few.

Divided We Stand by KouriArashi | 156.7K

Derek is being pressured by his family to pick a mate, and somehow stumbles into a choice that they didn’t expect and aren’t sure they approve of….

A Pair of Shoes by ReedMeme | 5.7K | Explicit

He was the human boyfriend. A lot of them don't really approve. Of course his boyfriend had to have a huge family. Which makes sense with the whole Werewolf thing, he supposes. But once in a while, Stiles still wishes he knew that before falling abso-fucking-lutely head over heels for Derek Hale.

Hello, Heartbreaker by astoryaboutwar | 18.4K

Stiles and Derek have been fuckbuddies for a while when Derek loses his memories of the past three years - and them - in an accident.

Talk Me Down by SylvieW | 26.3K | Mature

After the Hale family narrowly escapes the fire, Derek moves to New York to escape their lingering resentment. There, he meets Stiles, and feels an instant connection to him, but their relationship, and Derek’s self worth is tested by the hurdles Derek’s pack throws at them

I Would Fake Forever With You by Halevetica | 53.9K

Derek Hale is the black sheep of the family, always has been. That’s why he moved to Seattle. Now he’s got a job he loves, a nice apartment with an incredibly hot and endearing neighbor, Stiles Stilinski. One night when Derek’s overly large and demanding family shows up early for their yearly visit, they run into Stiles, who is accidentally introduced as Derek’s boyfriend.

Taught by Experts by unpossible | 29K

“Let me get this straight,” Stiles says. “You’re going to be publicly dating someone else.”

#asks #sterek fics #ficrecs #the hales dislike stiles #black sheep derek

154 notes · View notes

that-one-anxious-mango · 1 month ago

Text

F.O.U.R Letter Word

a message from your network: hello! and welcome to the pilot episode of Four Letter Word. this series is loosely based on the hit show Sex and the City! this is also my first roman reigns/jimmy uso fic...ever. so please any and all feedback is welcome. happy ' watching'

starring roman reigns x black! oc, jimmy uso x black! oc, black! oc x poc oc!

content warning: nsfw, explicit language, tiny angst, alluded themes of mental health mentions, mild smut. also may cause happiness from viewing.

rated: tv-ma

not rated for viewers under 18+ (mdni)

running time: 10.5k words

Once upon a time in the city of angels , a young and freshly graduated black girl found herself stumbling around through the busy traffic ridden streets hoping to not get hit by carriages or pieces of the sky, better known as construction beams, while navigating through the many characters and creatures it had to offer.

She’d moved to the city to begin her job of dressing and tailoring to the princes and princesses of a small New York Theatre.

A dream of hers she had since she was a child.

But while this opportunity was a dream come true, it wasn’t exactly all she’d wished for on that little star each night before bed.

No, she’d also dreamed of the one thing she knew in her mind would help her fairytale become a happily ever after sequence: A Husband….or Wife.

So, while she continued to work and construct her craft professionally during the day, at night she was looking for someone who could help construct and build her life alongside theirs personally.

Upon this search she would encounter men whose true personalities and intentions appeared upon the midnight hour, both women and men whose magic spells of attractiveness didn’t exactly work in person the same way it did on the phone, and overall people who just were always turned out to be too good to be true.

After what seemed like months of tiresome searching, her glimmer fainted into a small gleam, and she held tight onto all the magic and hope she had left with all her might.

And she was right too, because without it she may have never believed her eyes when she met him underneath the full bright moon and under the bright theater lights that warm and magical May night.

All because he needed help navigating the system of the NY streets. Offering what little help she could, in return for her help he himself offered her a dinner at one of the places in the city where the dishes probably washed themselves.

Accepting, within the course of that two hour dinner, she hadn’t denied the spark that she’d felt.

That zing..

That pop…

That thing you could only find in the movies…

And besides that she also learned in this short time, that he was everything she’d ever dreamed of to find in a man.

Handsome, kind hearted, sweet, intellectual, driven, established, and last of all wealthy.

All things that crossed her box.

But soon after the dinner she also would get to cross off another important box off her wish for a spouse: Good in Bed.

And so quickly a romance ensued.

Date nights, long weekend trips, holidays spent together, stupid monogrammed initials in the towels she kept at his place kind of romance.

Yes, of course like all other great love stories there were certain…dragons to be slain…or towers to climb. But hey what great love story didn’t…no matter how many.

That is why when he gave her the fairytale proposal of her life, she’d eagerly said yes.

But on the day of the same fairytale wedding they planned, worth a pretty penny, and with the gathering of all their closest family and friends.

She would find herself heartbroken when he didn’t say I do…or I don’t.

In fact at that altar he never said anything…because dear friends….he never showed.

She’d been stood up at the altar.

And on that day, with tears in her eyes that same young, freshly graduated girl with dew on her cheeks and glitter in her eyes would soon trade out her perfect pink for shoes, for boots made to walk all over all of his burned shit outside in the backyard of her parent’s home.

That young girl had been twenty two years old at the time of this heartbreak.

And now at twenty eight my cousin, Celine St. John, was all grown up and trying living in the harsh reality of the day.

That those princes or princesses didn’t exist, and only she herself had the power to make her dreams come true.

But again, sadly my friends, this still didn’t completely take her magic or her will to keep looking for her happily ever after…in someone else.

Which is why like something out of a fairy-tale, four Los Angeles princesses found themselves swimming in a sea of scurvy men with no prince or even handsome pirates in sight, at the Lonely Pearl Bar.

“ Can you believe it? Four years ago today I stood there dressed in my grandmother's pearls and his mother’s wedding dress outside ready to go to the altar in front of three hundred people, with my life packed up, ready to abandon all my hopes and dreams like a dumbass, waiting for a man who never had any intention of showing up.” Celine could only laugh at young naive past self as she took another sip of her Jack and Ginger.

“ In the high heat of an August heatwave no less.” She added, “ Even though when I said yes that night, I knew in my heart he’d never commit. That he’d never love me the same way I loved him.”

“ An important part of the tale indeed. But, hey, don’t feel bad. We’ve all been delusional a time or two. It happens. We’re young and improperly influenced with stories of fairy tale endings and men who actually may be decent human beings.” I said, playing with the circle stained napkin in front of me from my Corona. “ So, as always I don’t blame you for using the extreme benefit of the doubt. It happens.”

“ Oh no. Speak for yourself." Anthea quickly objected, “ Baby that wasn’t any regular ass delusional you experienced. That was some straight Disney fairytale shit, we’ll live happily ever after in a Louboutin shoe, type delusion. Which brings me to the main issue.”

The three of us exchanged looks present with all of the curiosity and skepticism we could muster.

“ See, I think the problem here ladies isn’t that you all can’t find someone to indulge the perfect Cinderella fantasy . It’s the fact you’re looking for someone to date in the first place. It isn’t like Beauty and the Beast where you love and nurture the gruff of man until you get this shiny new prince. Most men nowadays are all beast, no prince."

“ Men nowadays are all the same. No matter how much you want them to commit, date, or marry you, it’s all the same. A man will either tell you upfront he’s just looking to fuck, or he is going to indulge your little fantasy of something serious until you finally let him in the draws and then he’s out the door to the next bitch.” She explained, smiling as if her logic was the only right one.

Anthea Olivet, as she will tell anyone within earshot, was sexy, fabulous, wildly successful and had the ego of any man attached. This alone made her 5’3 stature in any situation feel seven feet tall. She was a prolific defense attorney to the stars, who took charge in not only in the courtroom, but in every aspect of life she could.

“ Bottom line . Men will fuck you and then get the fuck on. If you can find it within yourself to accept those facts, then maybe you too can enjoy the ‘ happy endings ‘ you get from them just as much as they do the ones they take from you.” She happily shrugged, taking a sip of her shirley temple.

“ Well what if I liked the way the beast looked pre transformation." Celine mused, “ I personally don’t mind some gruff and fur. Then you gotta remember he had generational wealth, he was well read, owned property, plus his tongue in that one scene wasn-”

Celine’s verbal venture into beastiality was cut off by a chorus of laughter and bewildered look from Maraget, “ Ce, you’re sick ." Tears springing in her eyes from laughter, “ And you can count that as a professional diagnosis free of charge.”

Celine shrugged, “ Nothing we didn’t already, darling. But no, seriously back to the topic at hand. It just feels like I almost had it, ya’ know? And now I just feel like at the age I am now I should already be set up for the life I wanna live. Ya’ know the house, kids, husband, property, dream job, whatever…”

She sighed, “ And it seems like all the other pieces of the puzzle are falling into place but this one.”

“ Which is what? Love? Because you know there are other areas of life you can find that in, right?" I reminded.

“ I mean look around. Do you really fucking think we’d all be sitting in this poorly air conditioned ass bar with these weak ass drinks if we didn’t love your ass. You betta’ look around and recognize QUICK.” I quipped at her, making a motion to the three of us surrounding her with my finger.

She smiled, playfully rolling her before saying, “ Yes. I definitely recognize I’m loved ya’ll thank you. However…”

Strong collective groans came from every direction, but still not strong enough to deter her from her declaration, “ As much as y’all love me and I love y’all, none of ya’ll can hold and kiss my hand, buy a house with me, raise babies with me, or eat me out on a Caribbean island with manuka honey and ice the way I need.”

“ We just letting all our little fantasies out tonight, huh?" I muttered to my left side, low enough for Anthea to hear.

“ Seems like. But let's not kink shame. It’s not polite.” She quietly sing-songed.

“ Even though I’ve had my ass burned, literally, I’m still not giving up on the idea that someone is out there for me." Celine urged, “ It just gets harder and harder keeping up the faith out here in these streets when at every fucking corner there is a weirdo or bum. But it is easy to weed those out once I come right out with it and say I’m looking to date to marry.”

“ Yeah, that’ll unfortunately slim the pickings.” I agreed, taking a swig.

“ Which I wouldn’t care about if I wasn’t twenty eight already! I’m not getting any younger. I need to find someone who will both poach quail eggs for me in the morning and then crack my eggs up at night.” Celine concluded. “ I need to find my person. Yesterday.”

Margaret nodded, “ I understand. But you don’t think that maybe you’re just putting a bit too much pressure on yourself, Ce. That’s a lot to try and carry. Maybe you should think about taking the pressure of the gas a bit, hun.”

" I agree '', I chimed in, “ Especially in this cesspool we call dating here in LA. You don’t necessarily need to lower your standards but maybe a little adjustment may be good. Or you could even try and sit on the bench for a little bit and focus on you. Make sure those other pieces of the puzzle just ain’t falling, but that they're in that bitch permanently.” I took a sip of my beer.

Still she shook her head unfazed by our words, “ No no no. I can’t. It’s bad enough I’m the age I am now with little to no prospects as is. Plus I can already hear that clock starting to tick s-"

“ You better take the batteries out of that bitch and keep pushing." Anthea sharply interrupted, startling a poor Margaret, “ FUCK THAT CLOCK! It’s bullshit. Don’t force yourself to go on a million dates with these lame ass niggas just because mother nature is pushing up on you.”

“ You better go collect and freeze those eggs. It’s never too late.” Anthea declared, holding up her class of pinot. “ If you want marriage. Do it. But don’t rush just because you're afraid. It won’t end well.”

“ She may have a point. Think about it.” I agreed.

Quickly I was called out by a now semi-offended Celine , “ Oh no! You Miss Thing...” She pointed a finely manicured finger at me, “ Do not get to have an opinion on a subject like this. You don’t even date forreal.”

I immediately felt my face contort into a deep frown, “ That is not true.”

From down the row I heard Margaret's voice, “ Now, Kalin.”

“ Yes, Margaret.” I shot back, a playful coyness invading my tone, making us both smile,

“ No, but seriously! Y'all make it seem like a bitch don’t date. I DATE! Maybe not as much or like how y’all do. But I get out there…occasionally.”

I felt my own conscious frown at me in skepticism and judgment.

“ Girl PLUHEASE! You don’t date Miss I’ve Taken a Vow of Celibacy because my last relationship shot to hell.” Anthea laughed, involuntarily reminding me of my last serious attempt at a situation.

“ Hey! My vow of celibacy doesn’t have anything to do with my last attempt at a relationship, but has everything to do with my attempt at a relationship with myself and my well being.” I stated proudly.

“ I decided that if I truly wanted to get to know myself and see all that I had to offer then I needed to get exclusive and serious with ME! Which meant eliminating distracting factors like sex and other people from our relationship.”

“ Plus.” I cleared my throat, “ As you all know I also had some…past things. I’ve been working on. And I finally feel like I’m at a place where I have a manageable handle on said things.” My eyes quickly cut to Margaret who offered a somber and supportive smile.

“ Now look at me. A young black successful New York Times best selling author of not one but soon to be two series. I have a budding publishing house, I’m thick and fit, and I’m a hell of a good dog mom. So, I’d say this celibacy journey was worth it.” I argued, sipping on the almost empty glass bottle.

“ And more power to you, honey.” Anthea patted my shoulder, “ But after three years, minimal dates, and at least four vibrators, plus the cost of batteries every month that probably is the equivalent of a decent house note. Don’t you think that maybe it’s time to open things up. I dunno get into a polyamorous relationship with you, yourself, and somebody’s dick?!"

“ Oh my gosh.” I groaned, silently unamused at her obsession with the prospects of my sex life.

“ Anthea behave.” Margaret softly scolded before turning to me, “ But on a more serious note, not to pull out the PHD in Psychology and Mental Health counseling…”

“ I know das’ right.” Anthea hyped her up.

“ But as someone who literally counsels and assesses people for a living on how well they can function in life healthily and independently, I’m pretty confident in my recommendation that you’ve done enough self growth and foundation laying over the last three years to where I’m content with sending you out into the wilds of the LA dating scene without major fear for you, friend."

Her words made my heart swell, “ Besides that, as your friend. I’m even more damn proud of you! It takes a lot to want to put that kind of work into yourself. I say all that to say…if you’re ready. Then it’s time.” Margaret encouraged lifting up her bottle of lemon sparkling water.

“ Amen Sister Dr. Girl. Tell her again.” Celine threw up a goofy fist.

“ So, I guess the question still remains, what is stopping you from getting back out there? " Anthea follows up.

“ Absolutely nothing! Nothing is stopping me y'all." My body produces a laugh under the pressure of the microscope presented by my peers, “ When I come across a man that I’m interested in. Then I’ll date. But until then I’m cool just seeing…me.”

And just like that, a smirk almost eerily identical to the Cheshire cat appeared on Anthea’s face, “ And when you say that, do you mean that there’s a specific type of guy you’re looking for? Cause I know some people I could-”

“ NOPE! While I’m flattered that won’t be necessary. Thanks.” I quickly held up a hand of refusal, “ But to answer your question. While I don’t have a specific list of things like how tall he has to be or what he does for a living, or this, that, and the third like other women may. I do have certain…preferences that I keep in mind when I see someone I think is attractive.”

“ Such as…” Anthea beckoned forward, not even attempting to be sly about her approach.

“ Such as….he has to be able to practice CMTDB.” I stated, smirking.

Immediately her eyes lit up with what I knew only could be a thought she could formulate, “ Ouu! What does that stand for? Can make the dick bounce? Can mash the D’s back? "

Laughter from every which way, plus a horrified look for Margaret, moved down through the row of us.

“ NO NASTY! It means CAN MIND THEIR DAMN BUSINESS.” Patrons had begun to stare at the four us who were now obnoxiously loud, but we didn’t care, “ Like damn. If I wanted to be interrogated by three old ass biddies I would’ve called Mama and the Tias.”

“ Aye watch who the fuck you call old, na’." Celine, barely able to breathe said, “ I may be kicking thirty in the ass, but my best years are still ahead of me. Watch.”

“ I know das right! Haven’t you heard thirty is the new twenty. Means we’re just really getting started.”

I groan laughing, “ God! I hope not. I’d like to see my thirties be different. Feel more mature and happier. Not like my early twenties which really just felt like the encore of my teenage years at times.”

“ That’s exactly what I was going to say bu–” The abrupt sound of Margaret’s phone paused her thought, she didn’t hesitate to pull it from her pocket, just the same way she didn’t hesitate to return just as swiftly and avert her eyes back to the conversation at hand.

An action she’d repeated twice since we’d all met here under the slightly mildew kissed lamps of the place two hours ago.

A look was exchanged between Celine and I, and while us two were ready to sweep the action under the rug; Anthea of course was not, “ You’re not gonna get’ that. That’s like your third call, tonight. Could be important.”

“ I promise it’s not. It can wait.” She affirmed, hands awkwardly tapping the bartop, “ Besides I’m busy helping a friend here.”

“ Who mind you doesn’t require help.” I added in.

“ Yeah right.” Celine laughed, “ You so do. But that’s alright. Cause mark my words. Before the year is over we gone find someone to knock the cobwebs up out that thang’. ”

My eyes cut at her, “ No cobwebs here, heifer. Don’t ever try it.” I waved a hand, “ Besides….”

“ From my mouth to the universe's ears, it will send me a man who not only is ready for me, but I too am ready for him. Which being honest, I don’t think is anytime soon. So, until then I’m going to keep on loving on me, buying batteries, and making money to pay my expensive beverage habits. ALRIGHT!”

They all looked around to each other before muttering in agreement.

After a couple more laughs, some life updates, and a toast to remember Celine’s bullet she dodged, both Anthea and Celine announced their respective departures, which also triggered Margaret's reluctance to go home.

“ Never know….” Margaret spoke up, “ He could stumble into this very bar tonight.”

Still I laughed her off, “ Yeah, right. Okay Miss Cleo, thanks for the delulu. I love you and kiss my godbaby goodnight when you get home. And to you other two… Have fun and be SAFE…in all areas of life.”

“ Will do. Night, pretty girl.” Anthea placed a kiss on my cheek, before heading over to the pool table to collect her victim of the night.

“ Goodnight, Beautiful. I will tell her in the morning. If you want I’ll have her call you so you two can talk over breakfast.” Margaret offered making me smile at the thought of my five year old goddaughter.

“ I would love that. Thanks.”

“ Alright. Before I go I’m gonna step outside and take a phone call.” Margaret leaned down and kissed my head.

“ Okay.” I said, suddenly feeling a weight on my back.

“ Goodnight, Smush. Love you. Don’t stay out too long.” Celine hugged me from behind.

“ Love you too, Smuckie. And I won’t. Text me when you get home.” I waved.

And then all within five minutes I’d found myself just how I knew the evening would go, alone and mulling. Just only at a bar.

I figured at this rate I may as well have another beer, call a cab, and set up shop at my computer until my eyes either started to burn or the computer died. Whichever came first.

A couple minutes had passed and I had just ordered my last when a voice rose above the buzz of noise next to me.

“ This seat taken? "

When I turned my head I was met with a rather large and stunningly attractive man dressed in a dapper suit and tie. He looked as if he'd just hopped straight off a Forbes magazine page, dressed head to toe in what I’d recognized to be the number 3’ line up from the recent Ralph Lauren’ spring line. I’d be remiss if I didn’t mention that he put the model to absolute shame.

This had to be some kind of fucking joke. Who had sent this man over here to fuck with me.

“ Doesn’t look like it…so please feel free.” I motion toward the tattered bar seat.

“ Thank you.” He replies, flagging down the bartender, “ Hey, man. Can I do a Blue Moon. Thanks.”

As he ordered his drink I couldn’t help but steal a few glances at the man beside me to further my inspection. Quickly I was able to gather that if I’d thought he’d been handsome standing over me before, I’d damn sure thought he was fine now up close now.

He had a strong jawline draped with a particularly well kept and healthy looking beard peppered with noticeable streaks of gray . All around his cheekbones and around his nose bridge were kissed with tiny hints of freckles. When he talked his smile was a perfect replica of a colgate commercial, and it helped to bring brightness to his eyes that had a certain softness and slant to them.

All in All…again I say..the man was fine.

“ Something on my face? " His voice startled me since I’d really thought I’d been stealthy with how much side eye I used.

I’d been caught.

Quickly I had to recover, “ No. Nope, nothin’ on there. You’re actually just in my line of sight.” I tried playing it off, “ Just trying not to be obvious about looking out the window there past your face. My friend is outside in a possible spat with her husband, and I don’t wanna make it seem like I’m being nosy.”

“ But you are. Being nosy that is.” He remarked, smiling and taking a sip of his beer.

I frown, “ Not really. Concerned more than anything. I mean she is standing outside by herself. It’s getting dimmer and dimmer out and I’m just making sure she’s okay. I mean look at her. Look how tiny she is…” I laugh, “ One tiny gush of wind and she’ll be all the way in the valley."

He turned his head to get a good look at my Margo before nodding, “ Well since you put it like that. I guess I understand the nosiness now.”

“ Mhmm.” I agreed, going back to nursing my beer.

The air held quiet for a moment, both our eyes seemed to briefly train on the game playing on the TV overhead until…

“ So, you come here often to be nosy? “ His gaze shifted to me and he flashed me that almost blinding smile again.

And in that moment, suddenly, for some odd reason, I’d begun to feel a tad smaller under the weight of it, like he was this giant…something and I was just…me.

His presence felt..oddly…Big.

In an attempt to hide my nerves I opted to look down the bar at the waitress while answering, “ Occasionally. Decent place to drink a beer, shoot a bear, be nosy into others life problems. All of it makes good material, ya’ know.”

“ For? " He questioned, pulling my attention back.

“ I’m sorry? " I blinked.

“ You said that all makes good material, right? So, for what? “ He furthered, the corners of his lips upturned.

For a moment I contemplated lying to him about my life’s profession just to avoid the common follow up questions I could never escape, but for some reason I’d decided that even if he did ask them, he was worth the explanations tonight.

“ I’m an author.” I revealed, “ So, you could say I take good chunks of inspiration from things as simple as eavesdropping on conversations or what some call ' people watching' I guess.”

“ Published? " He probed.

“ Yeah. I have a couple things out and under my belt." I nodded, “ Nothing you’ve read I’m sure, though.”

His eyebrows rose in curiosity, “ Oh really? What? Do I look like I don’t read or something? "

I shook my head, “ No. No, that’s not what I said. I’m sure you’re very well read."

Your reading material probably consists of contracts and checks with lots of zeros from the looks of it.

“ I’m just positive you’ve never read anything I’ve written. My genre probably isn‘t your thing." I clarified.

He took another swig of his beer, “ And what genre would that be? "

I smile knowing I had him, “ Young adult romance and fiction.”

He looked almost surprised when I told him, only indication of this being the shift in his seat.

“ Huh." He hummed before going back to nursing his flat beer, my brows touched.

“ Huh? What does ‘ huh ‘ mean?" I questioned, wanting to know the diction of his sound.

He laughed, finding amusement in my displeasure with little noise, his baritone floating in the air, “ Huh means I wouldn’t expect a young adult romance and fiction author to be getting her material from a bar."

I nodded understanding that he wasn’t the first person to share a sentiment like that I’d met. But still part of me could have wondered the same thing about him.

What was a man like him with such a large presence doing sitting at bar and and having a casual drink with a woman at a bar who secretly was in a place in her life where she felt as small as can be.

“ Huh." I sounded, purposely using the previous tone of his just for a reaction.

I got it.

He smiled, “ Now, what’s up with your huh? "

Having the nerve to start feeling shy, my head turned up to the game, the Celtics were nailing the Raptors, “ I just wouldn’t have expected a man in a almost six thousand dollar suit to be sitting at a bar whose most expensive drink comes in a glass with a plastic pearl floating in it.” I shot back.

He laughed.

“ Touche. " A nod was earned, “ I’ll put your ‘ huh’ to rest though by telling you that the only reason I’m here in this ridiculously overpriced suit at this little ole’ shithole in the wall bar, is because the guy who owns this place happens to be a lifelong friend of mine. And whenever I’m in town I stop in and say what’s up.”

“ Would that be often? " I turn. “ I’ve never seen you in here before.”

The corners of his mouth upturned, “ See. Nosy? " He pointed at me, triggering an eyeroll.

The small smile on my face spread, “ No. Not nosy. Conversationalist.” I countered, holding up a finger.

“ Mmm." He mused. “ Well in that case, quite often. I travel back and forth for work. And before you ask in a more innocent conversational way, I’m in the hospitality business. I help my family run a chain of hotels and resorts.” He said.

Explains a lot.

“ Nice! Not a bad profession to be in especially if you have to travel.” I noted. He nods, “ No it isn’t. And between us…” He moved a bit closer, and I seemed to stiffen a bit when I got a whiff of him. He smelled….indescribable, “ I don’t come here for the drinks, just to support my friend. If I’d wanted a real beer I'd have just gone to one of the hotels. Our tap is wayyy better.”

“ Really? And what about being nosy? Your bar good for any author looking for some material?" I teased.

He smiled, “ It’s especially good for someone nosy like you, yes. “ He stated matter of factly, I mean c’mon now. Think about how many people we get that travel back and forth through there and stop to have a drink to calm the nerves, drown sorrows, or are like you and just wanting to be in the atmosphere. You definitely meet some characters.” He pointed out.

With a thought put to it, it sounded like it made perfect sense to me.

“ I bet. Sounds like an interesting place to pick up on something.” I agree.

“ I know." He nodded, “ But, please don’t take my word for it. You should come see for yourself."

He’d caught me by surprise with his invitation, “ I’m sorry? ”

I could tell he took pleasure in startling me this way, “ I said come and see it for yourself. What’re you doing Sunday night?" He posed, reaching for his suit jacket while accidentally flashing me a better glimpse at a watch that I was sure amounted to my entire four year tuition at WU.

Immediately in my mind images of my routine Sunday night of walking around in oversized clothes and fuzzy slippers while looking like the thing they pulled out of the black lagoon as I sifted through chapter drafts and notes flashed through my brain.

Still I decided to play it cool…as I could, “ I’m not exactly sure. I should be free, but I still need to double check. Just in case a random event I can’t remember at this particular moment is occurring." I shrugged my shoulders in a pitiful effort to sell the sudden nonchalant attitude.

But the smirk on his face let me know he was staring straight through me, though politely he played along, “ Well, you do that. And when you figure it out. Give me a call, I’d love to have a drink and maybe help you source up some material with some pretty quality.”

He casually handed me off a business card.

Joseph Anoa’i

Chief Operations Officer

Grand Maivia Hotels Inc.

I had to keep my eyes from bucking out of my head when I read the card.

The Grand Maivia Hotel and its variants were notorious for being one of the most inclusive, luxurious, and successful hotel chains. They were minority founded, owned, and operated with their brand expanding to sit at the table with giants like the Four Seasons, St. Regis, and the Hiltons.

Knowing the information I knew now, explained why his presence gave off such big vibes.

But this time I was determined to keep my face neutral and not give an inch, “ Cool. Nice to meet you Joseph.”

“ Joe," He corrected, “ My friends just call me Joe.”

I arched an eyebrow, “ Ah. So we’re friends now? I mean I don’t know. I wouldn’t take you for the type to have nosy friends.”

He laughs, “ Not letting that go, huh? "

“ Nope! " I popped the ‘ P’, digging into my purse to pull out a stray business card of my own. “ Not since you started it first. But I figured if we are then you might want this." You handed him the card.

Caramine Lewis

Writer and Publishing Talent

Alma House Publishing

His thumb ran over the name inked on the card carefully, “ It’s nice to meet you, Caramine? That short for something? “

“ Umm…not really. Caramine is just my pen name. My writing alias." I watched the corners of his eyes spread in curiosity.

“ I see. So what’s the real name?"

I smiled, a mischievous thought passing over my lips, “ Whose nosy, now?"

He laughed, “ If you can call it that. I think intrigued would be a better term."

“ C’mon what? Don’t tell me that you’ve never kept an alias before? Ya’ know have your Bruce Wayne or Clark Kent moment. Adds a good element of mystery to something.” I said, hoping that this poor attempt at flirting I was doing may have been rubbing off somewhat.

“ No. I’m quite familiar with the idea of an alias. But I think the thing I find most interesting about them is when you get to unmask the true person behind it." He wasn’t shy about the quick survey his eyes did on me, a certain look in them appeared that I hadn’t, “ Get to know the real them.”

I couldn’t help the heat that descended upon my cheeks, “ Well, you’ll come to find that us authors love keeping our readers intrigued by a more slow and revealing approach. Ya’ know, can’t give you everything at once.”

“ Is that right?” His tongue fleets across his bottom lip. His eyes haven’t left mine for a hot minute, and I can feel an array of nerves heat all over my body with every passing second they’re under his gaze.

“ Yeah.” I said, “ So, to keep you intrigued until I see you again. I think the notion of my name will be enough.” I said, I’d noticed the involuntary pur I’d elicited into my voice now.

It hadn’t been on purpose, but I just couldn’t help myself.

At this he moved to stand, coming a little bit closer to me until one of his knees touched mine and I was forced to tilt my head up just to meet his gaze. God, the atmosphere felt like it kept getting warmer and warmer by the minute, and for the life of me I didn’t know how much longer I could keep my cool.

“ I guess it’s a good thing I’ll be seeing you soon then. I’m not exactly the patient type when it comes to these things. Read the ending first kind of guy and then go from there. I like knowing what I’m getting into.” He stated.

“ So, you could imagine how easy it could be for me to just google it now. Find some kind of article that’ll tell me. And then let those ‘ notions ‘ you speak of take hold after.”

“ You could." I agreed, “ Skip over the delight of the wonderment I mean. And just go ahead and spoil it for yourself. But something tells me you won’t.”

He perked, a hand rested on the counter now dangerously close to mine, “ Why’s that? "

His eyes were peering down at me now, almost with a certain curiosity to them he used to mask his suspected arousal, it made my breath hitch.

“ Because you say you’re the kind of guy who likes to skip til the end and then go backward. Yet, here you are still trying to get a good read on the cover.”

“ So that patience you think you don’t have, you have it.” I concluded.

I watched the smile spread across his lips that further poked at the heat of gaze coming from his eyes which were locked on mine, “ Maybe.” He said.

“ I can work with maybe.” I said allowing myself to fully take in his features from this angle as we still held this oddly…interesting eye contact that I just in the moment couldn’t explain.

Figuring I needed to leave before I started salivating at the mouth, I quickly announced my leaving.

“ Well Mr. Joe. As lovely as this meeting has been, the life of an author calls.” I got up to gather my things, “ I have a deadline tomorrow and I need to make sure everything is all set on my end. So this is where I’ll have to leave you…for now.”

“ I see. Well I actually should be heading out too. Got a bunch of boring back to back meetings tomorrow and they start early.”

“ How early?" I inquired.

“ Early." He shot back without a knowing tone.

I nodded already knowing it had to be before the rooster crows.

“ Well that sucks. But hey, I guarantee you're not the only person who will be up that early. There are those who never sleep in this city, like the uber and taxi drivers. I should know, I'm taking one now." I said.

Immediately I watched him frown, “ You planned on taking a taxi home…by yourself.”

“ I did. And I AM.” I giggled in confirmation, taking note of his displeasure.

“ Not anymore you’re not. I’ll call one of the car services from the hotel to take you home.” He reached in his jacket pocket to produce a phone. " We're not too far from there, so it won't take too long to get here."

And just how his frown was immediate so was mine when I protested, “ Oh no. Truly that isn’t necessary. I’ll be fine. I’m a big girl who can take care of herself. Have been for a long time.”

His eyes pulled away from the typing on the screen for a once over of me and then back to his task when he said, “ And from the looks of it you’re doing a hell of a job. But just because you can doesn’t mean you should always have to.”

“ Plus..I wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight knowing I let you get a cab instead of offering. Can’t always trust cabs or Ubers or whatever. Especially here. ” He affirmed, once he was done on his phone he looked back to me, “ You ain’t ever seen the bone collector, sweetheart? "

He referenced the 90s creepy mystery thriller staring Denzel Washington and Angelina Jolie.

“ I have." I nodded, “ A very scary movie indeed. But I hope it eases your mind when I tell you that I rarely take Ubers or taxis. I usually drive myself every which way besides when I know I’m probably going to have a bit to drink. Because in that instance I wanna be responsible and not drive.”

“ Understood. Well for tonight at least you won’t have to worry about a cab. And if you decide to come have a drink Sunday, let me know ahead of time and I’ll be happy to arrange a driver for you for the night.” He proposed.

“ Joe, while that’s sweet it’s really not ne-”

“ It is to me though. So like I said, let me know.”

I watched him stand to his feet in front of me…well maybe more like over me since he easily bested my five’ seven stature by the way my face came just to meet the top of his chest. Which only heightened the smell that wafted from him. It smelled…delectable.

He was...delectable.

“ For mine, the lady, and her friends drinks.” I watched as he laid down a thick wad of cash onto the ring stained and corded wooden counter. It had to have been the amount of all our drinks five times over, “ Keep the rest for yourself. And tell Dean that Roman said the beers are still flat.”

Roman?

I thought we’d established his name was Joseph—Joe.

I began to wonder where the nickname had come from and why, it was definitely a bit of a sharp turn away from the name Joe.

As if he could read my mind, he sent a knowing smile my way , " C'mon your rides’ on the way.” He beckoned me to follow him outside, he reached a hand and motioned for me to walk in front of him.

Quickly I tried to gather myself and my belongings, my heart felt a flutter when I could sense his hand hovering just over my hips as he maneuvered us through the crowd of people.

It was fascinating to watch the way people parted for us- Him. The smiles and nods as he moved through the room only solidified the size of his presence in the space. The acknowledgements and greetings didn’t end until we were outside in front of the bar with the cool LA night air kissing our cheeks.

As if on cue the all black GMC SUV gilded in before us.

“ This is you.” He motioned, “ And don’t worry. Whatever you tell him is confidential. I’m not gonna show up to your crib or start sending things. Like a nut job That ain’t me. My mother raised me better than that.” He explained.

I felt a chamber of my heart relax at the genuineness I believed I was hearing in his voice about the respect of my privacy, which had been a cause of concern when the offer was first presented.

“ Thank you for mentioning that. I appreciate it…all of it really.”

“ You don’t have to thank me. It’s nothing. All I ask is that when you do get home, just shoot me a text and let me know.” He moved closer as we inched to the door of the truck.

“ I can most certainly do that.” I agreed.

“ So, I’ll be seeing you Sunday night? " He asked, head tilted down just enough for the

“ Maybe.” I answered, purposefully.

He smiled, tongue fleeting his top lip, “ I can work with maybe.”

As he leaned down closer I couldn’t stop myself from mentally panicking at the mere belief that this handsome ass, big ass, sexy ass man was about to kiss me.

To say my heart and mind were both collectively and desperately trying to communicate when in reality all lines of proper thoughts had been temporarily...shut down…stunned…made unavailable by the blocking signals being sent up from nether regions that I wasn’t even sure still worked.

It didn’t help that he’d gotten close enough to the point where if I’d leaned up, our lips wouldn’t have any trouble meeting.

So it was then when he stopped leaning and said, “ Good night.”

That all I could muster was a repetition of his words, “ Good night.”

Like as if I was in a daze I allowed him to open the door, usher me in, and see me off as the wheels started rolling against the cracked pavement into the night air that had just become ripe with possibility.

And all I could think was…. GotDammit Margaret.

Back Inside…

Margaret tried to compose herself as she walked back to the bar, head beginning to throb with the ghost of her husband's disappointed tone in her ear.

At first she’d taken the call under the fluorescent light of the neon pearl sign of the building, hoping that it would offset the dreary and dark feelings of the conversation she was having. When it got more serious she’d moved to her car ready to start it up and give in to the guilt being placed on her.

But once the call ended, she wasn’t sure if it was the effects of the asbestos from the bar, or the lingering warm feelings she had from seeing her friends, but she’d gotten out of the car and went back into the bar.

Almost as if something was drawing her back inside.

Also, not yet wanting to leave and face the small monotony of her life, she decided one more shot of lemon infused agua wouldn’t hurt before she ventured home.

Plopping down on the bar stool in between two bar-goers, she flagged down the bartender to ask him for another bottle of lemon sparkling water to sip on while she watched the very basketball game she’d been previously fated to attend.

She sat there for a minute not really watching the game, but rather letting it watch her, when…

“ You a fan? " A voice appeared next to her on the right.

When she turned, at her side sat a man…

He had caramel skin and long dark hair with maroon colored tips all pulled into a low makeshift bun on his head. He wore a denim hoodie jacket and a white shirt that made the chain around his neck stand out against his intricately tattooed skin. His face was mature but his features screamed boyish, right down to the wide toothy smile on his face.

He was handsome to her… in an odd boy next door kinda way.

“ Um…sorta. My husband legally represents the team, so we usually get season tickets we go to, but this is the first game I’ve missed since he started.” Margaret answered, mindful to move herself over a bit to give him room. “ He’s a big fan and loves to go. So, we go.”

“ And how long ago was that?" He inquired, eyes heavily trained on the individual in front of him.

“ It’ll be six years in March.” A soft smile peaking at the thought of her husband’s accomplishment.

The man's eyes shifted in curiosity to the screen, “ Wait. Hol’ up. You mean to tell me you’ve been to every single Kings game in the last six years? Even the away games? "

Margo was quietly amused with his disbelief, “ Even the away games. Either courtside or in a box somewhere. They may prove hard to manage sometimes but I always make it in the end. Only this one I couldn’t because my friend really wanted me here tonight and it’s a special occasion.”

The man nodded, “ Wow. I get it. That’s just some real commitment right there. How long y’all been married for if you don’t mind me askin’ ?" He reached to take another sip of his drink.

Water sloshing around in a shot glass.

“ Seven years this August. Together for nine though." She recalled just how long she and Reece had been together, internally she winced at the thought.

“ That’s wassup. Congratulations to you both.” He continued to nurse his drink.

Curious, she turned to him, “ And what about you? Married?"

This time the man downed the rest of his drink before responding, “ Engaged. Going on five years.” He revealed, only Margaret took notice of the hinge to his voice. As if he’d tasted something bitter on his tongue. Maybe his words , because it couldn’t be the water.

“ You don’t sound too happy to me for someone being engaged.” She noted.

He shook his head, “ It’s not that I’m not happy I’m engaged. I just know I’d be happier married is all.”

Would you really? Because trust me…it ain’t all it's cracked up to be.

Caty’s lips pursed together before she spoke, “ So, then what’s stopping you? From getting married that is."

“ Her." He simply stated, “ She’s at a pivotal point right now in her career and wants to wait. Says she can’t really find the time to fully commit to things like the planning and shit like that. Bottom line, the hold up is her.”

“ Well I can see why you’re frustrated but, at the same time it’s hard to commit to something and someone knowing that it’s not just you anymore, but rather you and I now. It can be scary committing." She reasoned, picking up her glass of water.

“ Yeah. But you did it, right? “ He threw out, “ Seven years, never miss a game, and even still you’re sitting here watching it in a bar full of alcohol having lemon water. That’s commitment, uce.” He stated, “ That shit shows you care. Your husband is lucky.”

Only if he knew that.

Ignoring his synopsis of the information given to her, Margaret decided to instead indulge in the latter of his statement, “ Uce? What is that? Like some islander term used or…”

He smirks, “ Sum’ like that. It’s like the samoan version of ‘ cuz ‘ or bruh? "

“ Nice well…Mr…”

“ Jonathan Fatu.” He stuck out his hand for her to shake, she reached out, the minute the palm of their hands touched a slight shock of electricity ran through the center of her hand and up her fingers that made her quickly pull away with a feeling of small lighting traveling up her in arm in the most peculiarly pleasant way. “ You can me Jon, though’. ”

“ Well Jonathan. Sometimes being with someone does mean making certain…sacrifices to ensure the overall health of the relationship. It’s a give and take situation.”

“ Yeah, I get that.” He nodded in agreement before asking her, “ But what happens when you feel like the majority of the sacrifices have been made by you? Where’s the balance in that? What do you get to take away for yourself? "

Questions Margaret couldn’t answer…not only for him, but also for herself.

As a licensed professional she was sure she could conjure up some technical answer she would tell her clients in session, but this wasn’t what this was.

There was no notepad in front of her to jot down notes or logistics sheets, there was no timer set, and she wasn’t sitting opposite from him across the room.

In this moment sitting next to him, side by side, she felt like a regular person. So that’s why she found it somewhat easy to give him the regular response of, “ You know. I’m not exactly sure.”

“ I mean we all make sacrifices for the people we love but only you yourself truly know when you’ve had enough of it. You know when the sacrifice is too much and when to say when.” She followed up.

“ And you’ve never felt the need to say when about goin’ to all these damn games. I mean I could understand if you said you had to sit through a couple of Warriors games or even the Lakers. But the Kings ain’t even really on shit forreal." He motioned to the scoreboard where the Kings were still in fact getting destroyed by Celtics.

“ I mean shit, do you even like basketball?" He laughed, emitting a small one from her.

“ Not particularly. I don’t mind it. But it’s not my first choice of a sporting event to go to. Though not a lot of people may like my picks so there’s that.”

“ Which are? " He pressed.

She couldn’t explain why but she felt a twinge of excitement in her voice when she said, “ I like going to Tennis matches or Rugby games. I also don’t mind going to Derby games with my friends. But truly I adore going to swim meets, it’s one of my favorite things in this world…ever.”

“ What? Swimmin’?”

She nodded, a large smile spreading on her face at the mere notion of the water, “ Yeah. I can’t get enough of being in water. I’ve swam my entire life. Ever since I was like eight I was in youth group swimming, and then on both middle and high school swim teams. Went to college on a scholarship for it and everything."

“ Where to?"

“ Duke.”

“ Oh shit. That’s wassup’." He gave a grin, “ Must have been good.”

Margaret didn’t mean for a frown to spread on her face at his notion of ‘ good ' , but she couldn’t help herself when the words began coming out her mouth, “ Good? If you can call finishing the 200 yard breaststroke in one minute and fifty six seconds good.” She lifted up her lemon water to take a sip, “ Then yeah. I was pretty decent.”

Jon smiled at the sense of pure arrogance and smugness that reeked from her upon the topic. The two hadn’t been talking all of thirty minutes, but he couldn’t tell this was something she probably didn’t do often from the way she was trying to still downplay this incredible ass record off.

“ Ooooo WEE.” He chirped loudly, making a grinning Maragret look around, “ So you got that motor on you huh? I see you. Them sound like some Olympic ass numbers to me. I can’t see yo’ feet but you must have some flippers on you or something cause gahdamn girl!"

The woman couldn’t help but be entertained and indulge in his theatrics, “ Hey! My feet are not that damn big. I wear a size nine thank you."

“ Alright. You may not be bigfoot but you're up there, dammit. Got some weight on em’. While you playing, them motherfuckers probably extend or some shit like Austin Powers.” He goofed.

Playfully she side eyed him smacking her lips, “ Whatever. I seen them big ass Jordans you wearing when I sat down. Big foot! " She teased, “ Can’t be the pot calling the kettle black.”

“ Touché ..Touché” He laughed, allowing their shared laughter to die down for a second before he spoke, “ But seriously though. Why you ain’t stick wit’ it. With numbers like that is some Olympic gold medal material. Why ain’t you somewhere biting the gold right now.”

Margaret looked at him, a somewhat sullen look springing to her eyes as he asked more questions that she already asked herself over and over again for ages.

“ I could have, I’m sure. But guess you could say it goes back to our earlier topic of sacrifices." She revealed, “ I could have made the team I’m sure with my stats, even as a freshman, but by the time any of those opportunities rolled around I had to make a sacrifice that made all that impossible.”

He nodded in understanding. He too had been in situations like that where he had to make a choice between his dream for himself or his reality that affected others, “ Sorry to hear that.”

She shook her head, “ Don’t be. It went the way it was supposed to. Lead me to my other passion of life, so please don’t feel sorry for me.”

“ Oh yeah? What’s that? " He questioned, giving her his full undivided attention.

It was strange to her the way she felt heat collecting at the apple of her cheeks as a result, why did she feel bashful talking to a complete stranger?

Being so deep in thoughts she hadn’t noticed that his eyes still hadn’t left the canvas of her face, he secretly took the time to study her features for himself, once he reached her lips…he studied the fullness and natural rose of them, hints of a smile danced on them that peaked his curiosity into her thoughts.

“ What’chu smiling for, uce? Got somethin’ on your mind.” His voice luring her away from the lands of her mind and forces her to meet his eye contact full on.

“ It’s nothing. I just thinkin’ about how I feel bad that we keep talking about me. I usually don't talk this much about myself, let alone to a stranger." She took a sip of her water, feeling suddenly parched, “ I’m known to be more of a listener.”

“ But you did though. You listened to me whining about my life stuff earlier. Now we talkin’ about you. “ He said, “ It’s your turn to have the floor. It’s all about you right now, girl.”

It’s all about you right now.

The words vaguely rang around in her ear, sounding every bit of foreign to her mind.

Nothing had ever been all about her in her life. Ever.

“ Guess I’m just not used to that then. People listening to me talk. I usually get my fun the other way, by listening.”

She watched a look appear on his face, one that she refused to believe was a look of more than…friendly appearances. The man was engaged after all.

And how could she forget she was married.

“ So, you saying talking to me is fun then? "

Without pause she nodded, " I’m enjoying myself, yes. But I don’t wanna be the only one talking you gotta want t-"

“ Don’t worry about me. I get enough of talking about myself on a daily basis. Trust me.” He stopped her, “ Right now I wanna hear what’s on your mind.” He declared, shifting his body to lean more into hers while still keeping a comfortable space between them.

“ So gon’ head and talk." He encouraged, “ Tell me about this passion of yours. Cause I’m listenin’ .”

While Margaret was downtown discovering the joy of being the sender of the conversation rather than the receiver, some of us uptown were realizing that dialogue on a Friday night, just might be overrated.

“ Fuck! That’s good.” Anthea’s declaration of lust bouncing off the walls of the man’s place.

It did well to harmonize with the sounds of his thighs repeatedly beating off the skin of her ass, as he had her legs suspended over his shoulders and head buried in her neck by her ear.

That was the shoulders of the man she'd involuntarily picked up at the bar on whim as she made her way outside.

Just as she’d thought back at the restaurant, she was sure in her spontaneous pick of night. Upon getting in the car he’d made her cum within minutes with the thickness and calculations of his fingers.

She was pleased to say that hadn’t disappointed with his particularly thick dick either, well that was until…

“ Yeah. Right there, honey! You’re right on my spot. Don’t stop!" She moaned, reaching out to dig at the ridges of his chiseled abdomen.

She felt him press a run a hand over her naked ass as he said, “ Yeah you want me to cum all in that ushy gushy pussy, baby. Give you my slimey cum all in that shit. Make that pussy leak that watery shit all over my dick. Make it moist.”

And in that moment maybe she could have ignored all his disgustingly horrible banter the man was spewing out of his sudden sewer of a mouth, but the last word he used had been found to have the opposite effect on Anthea as the word's intended meaning.

Like when the world turned on it’s axis and dried up the once ocean filled Sahara, Anthea felt herself being thrown off her belt of pleasure only to feel herself dry up and shrivel to uncomfortability.

Without thought she immediately tapped the groaning and sweat slicked man to cease his movement, “ Sweetheart, you’re done.” She began wiggling out of his grasp only to be stop by a hand on her thigh as her head rushed companion said, “ Awe naw, baby. I ain’t but I’m on the way.” He groaned, still attempting to thrust in her.

This time Anthea figured a more stern approach was needed, “ Yes, you are on your way. Out of my apartment that is. Please get off me and collect your things so you can leave.” She made quick work of pushing him off of her, not hard but with enough force to move a bewildered him to the side.

Shocked and obviously frustrated at his ruined moment, he asked, “ Woah, baby. What happened? I thought we were both there. Didn’t you feel good having me in you like that? Talking you through.”

Anthea had now moved to her feet going over to grab her vintage 1993 Chanel Terry Cloth Robe from her vanity as her head whirled around at words.

“ Talking me through it?!" She gaped, “ No, hun. if anything you were talking me out of it. Out of my fucking orgasm and you out of my apartment. So, please. Grab your things while I call down and let the valet know to bring your car around.” She reached for her.

And of course as expected he got to grumbling to retrieve his scattered Men’s warehouse clothes muttering profanities as he dressed, much to Anthea’s disinterest.

Eventually he made his way to the door with Anthea following behind, still upset and pouting like a child denied their favorite treat.

When he stepped to the hallway, Anthea leaned against the doorframe to make sure he retreated to the elevator, he turned to say a final, “ Fuck you. Ole’ bougie ass bitch.”

Smiling with the enjoyment of knowing she’d gotten under the man’s skin she said, “ I wish you could. Fuck me that is. But sadly the only thing you managed to do was finger me half decent in the car, slobber all over my fucking thigh for thirty minutes, and thrust in me for another hour while you talked to me like I was the fucking attendant at local sewage plant. So, no. Not fuck me, it’s you needing to learn how to fuck.” And with that she shut her door in satisfaction, which quickly morphed into self reflected anger.

Angry at herself for not just going with her first mind and saving herself both the effort and time by just going ahead and resorting to her personal version of ‘ ole’ faithful ‘.

Her thumb hovering over the contact with both reluctance and need, she knew if she did this it would only make her situationship more complex than what it already was.

But then again she knew that above all other pleasures, this person could offer her something that others like them couldn't; Discretion.

Which in line of work, was valuable.

As predicted the line only rang twice before a soft voice could be heard on the line, sending chills through her spine.

“ You can’t keep doing this. It’s not healthy.”

The corners of Anthea’s mouth upturned at the routine attempted guise of respectability, “ Yet every time you answer without failure. Hypocritical much?”

Before the third ring at that.

“ I never said you were the only one making unhealthy decisions here. I always own my part, don’t I? "

Anthea agreed, “ You do quite well. Which is why I think this works so well. We both know our roles and play our parts. Maximum effort on both ends.”

“ Indeed." The voice sighed, “ So, how soon do you need me?”

Her bottom lip stuck under her perfect porcelain teeth for a moment before she spoke, “Hmmmm. Three hours ago would’ve been nice, but I’m willing to settle for now.”

And then the words she’d wanted to hear so eagerly graced her ears, “ I’m on my way.”

As soon as the ‘ click ‘ of the phone was heard, the hot and tingly feelings anticipation ravaged Anthea’s stomach, just the way she hoped this person would.

And at home Celine was also having some more abrupt feelings come up those being ….reminiscence….longing….and confusion.

The Polaroid picture in her hand of her and her past lover only fueled them further as she flipped through the memories they once shared in what felt like a lifetime ago.

Within the box before her sat almost three years worth of pictures, letters, etc from their relationship.

But alongside these mementos also sat the secret police reports and medical records she always kept with her as a reminder of the past. A past that no one else knew of…not even her family.

Just like in a similar instance, her friends didn’t know about the message she’d received at the top the morning in her email inbox. A key fact she was keen on keeping to herself as she tried to sort through the file folders of her feelings by her lonesome.

The message that read:

[email protected]: All I need is a chance to set the mess I made right. I’m in the city again. Permanently. Call me when you get this. My number hasn’t changed. Please, Celine. I miss you.

#roman reigns x black oc #roman reigns x oc #jimmy uso x black oc #jimmy uso x oc #4LR #fourletterword

43 notes · View notes