#apologies for the very extended absence!

[appeal-zone]

iono changed the passcode on this account without me knowing, then forgot it TT_TT

[dyavol]

[solar-wing]

⚣ Too Late 💙

⚣💙 A/N → request for @alexanderstarhero! Hope you enjoy it! Also, I apologize for my extended absence. I have a job, I'm starting a new school program, and business-related things keep me busy, but I'm still here guys! I promise! Not sure how I feel about this one. I feel like I could've done better but we desperately need some more Clark Kent x male reader though so here you go. Which, by the way, if you haven't checked out @nouearth, his Clark fics and literally everything else makes me melt and feel unholy things. Churches beware. ANYWAY, Hope everyone likes it! WARNINGS: Magical Male Reader | Angst & Fluff | Childhood Friends To Lovers | SFW |

⚣💙 Summary → You know, one would think moving to a completely different city in hopes of forgetting your past life and feelings would be enough. But fate is a sneaky little bastard that just loves to play with your feelings. Is it too late for a do-over?

⚣💙 Words → 12.4K

REBLOGS & replies are greatly appreciated, please! 💙

⚣ ENJOY 💙

The city lights of Metropolis flickered through the windows of a small, cozy apartment, where the hum of traffic below provided a constant background noise. Y/N stood by the window, a glass of juice in hand, staring out at the skyline. Since moving to the city, he often found himself feeling nostalgic, with old memories of Smallville popping into his mind more frequently than he’d like. Most of those memories had a common thread.

A soft sigh escaped his lips as he took a sip of his juice, the cool liquid doing little to ease the anxious tightness in his chest. Moving to Metropolis was supposed to be a fresh start—a way to leave behind his past and focus on building a better, normal life for himself, free from the constraints of small-town life.

Since he was a baby, Y/N had been gifted with magical abilities. How he got these powers was a mystery to both him and his parents; they could never find any trace of magical ability in their ancestry. With no idea where the powers came from, and no one to turn to for help, his parents did everything they could to hide their son’s abilities from the outside world. They tried their best to teach him control, but without expertise, they were flying blind.

Growing up, Y/N barely knew how to control or use his powers. You’d think in a small town like his, people would have noticed or called in the town priest, but that wasn’t the case. In Metropolis, when something strange happened—something that often happened to Y/N—people would give him odd looks, but then they’d move on with their day as if nothing out of the ordinary had occurred. In Smallville, though, everyone treated it as normal.

After the Kents arrived with their new kid, who seemingly appeared out of nowhere, the town acted as if every strange occurrence was just part of everyday life. They quickly shut down anyone who dared to question it, and that extended to both Clark Kent and Y/N.

Small towns were usually known for everyone knowing everyone’s business. Gossip was the native language. But not in Smallville. Y/N couldn’t help but smile a little at the memory of how the line between the ordinary and the extraordinary seemed to blur there. Most places would have been up in arms if they noticed the strange occurrences that happened in Smallville. But in that little Kansas town, people had an uncanny ability to overlook the impossible, shrugging off the extraordinary as if it were just another quirk of life.

Take Clark Kent, for instance. Anyone could see that something was different about him. He was stronger, faster, and able to do things most grown men couldn’t even imagine, let alone a small farm boy. But the townsfolk never questioned it. They simply accepted that he could do things no one else could and moved on.

It was the same with Y/N. He might accidentally cause a book to float off a shelf or a light to flicker when he was upset, but no one in Smallville ever made a fuss, something his parents were very grateful for. There were whispers—there always are in small towns—but they never left closed doors. The people of Smallville had learned long ago to mind their own business, especially when it came to the Kents and Y/N.

Even more so when a bunch of guys in black suits, glasses, and SUVs showed up one week, probing around town and asking strange questions. It had been after one of the more noticeable incidents—a moment when Clark saved someone in a way that couldn’t be easily explained. If there was one thing you could count on from a small town, it was that they weren’t saying anything to those types of Feds or government officials.

The memory was still vivid in Y/N’s mind: the way the town closed ranks, the polite but firm way the locals deflected every question, sending agents on wild goose chases until they finally gave up. His parents had mentioned that it was nothing compared to when that strange meteor hit the Kent farm and a bunch of government agents and scientists showed up—the same week the Kents got a new kid named Clark.

It was as if the entire town had decided, collectively and without speaking a word, that whatever was going on with the Kents—and by extension, Y/N—was their business and no one else’s. The unspoken rule in Smallville was clear: if you saw something strange, you didn’t see it. You didn’t ask questions, and you certainly didn’t talk about it. It was a kind of willful ignorance, a way for the town to protect its own from prying eyes. And in some strange, twisted way, it worked.

Y/N often wondered how much of it was a conscious choice and how much was just the way Smallville was. It was as if the town itself had decided to shield them, to create a bubble where the extraordinary was just another part of everyday life.

But as comforting as that was, it was also suffocating. Because even in a town that turned a blind eye to the unusual, Y/N couldn’t escape the feeling that he was different, that there was something wrong with him. He couldn’t shake the fear that one day, the bubble would burst, and everyone would see him for what he really was—a freak, an outcast.

At least he had a friend.

Imagine the two kids in town who both had episodes of strange, inexplicable things happening to them or around them becoming friends. Completely ironic, like something straight out of a story. Unless...

...

Nah.

But in a place where the extraordinary was treated with a shrug, having someone like Clark as a friend made all the difference. It was as if fate—or whatever unseen force governed the universe—had decided that these two oddities should find each other. And find each other they did, in the most natural, unassuming way possible.

Clark and Y/N became fast friends, drawn together by their shared experiences of feeling different, even if neither of them fully understood why. They never talked about the strange things that happened to them, never discussed how Clark could lift bales of hay like they weighed nothing, or how Y/N could sometimes make things move with just a thought. It was an unspoken agreement, a mutual understanding that whatever was happening to them was theirs to carry, together.

In a town that turned a blind eye to the impossible, Clark was the one person who made Y/N feel like he wasn’t alone. There was a quiet comfort in their friendship, a sense of belonging that Y/N had never felt before. They were both outsiders in their own way, but together, they found a place where they could be themselves, where they didn’t have to pretend or hide.

But as they grew older, that comfort became a source of anxiety for Y/N. The more time he spent with Clark, the more he realized that his feelings for his friend were deeper than just friendship. He cared about Clark in a way that went beyond the bond they shared, and it terrified him. In a town that could overlook floating books and superhuman strength, there were still lines that couldn’t be crossed, and Y/N knew that his feelings for Clark were one of them.

He tried to suppress those feelings, to bury them deep inside where they couldn’t cause any harm. But the harder he tried, the more they grew, until it became impossible to ignore them. He started to pull away, putting distance between himself and Clark, hoping that space would make the feelings fade. It didn’t.

Plus, Y/N still didn’t understand the extent of his abilities, and he knew sometimes his powers would react to his emotions. He didn’t want to risk doing anything that could hurt Clark. He didn’t think he’d be able to live with himself if something happened because of his inability to control his powers.

Yet, good old noble Clark, always perceptive and caring, noticed the change. He didn’t push or pry, but there was always that look in his eyes, a quiet concern that only made Y/N’s heart ache more. Clark didn’t know why Y/N was pulling away, but he never stopped trying to bridge the gap. He was always there with a smile, a warm word, or an invitation to hang out, never letting the distance between them grow too wide.

It was those small gestures that made it so hard for Y/N to keep his resolve. Every time he saw Clark, every time Clark reached out, Y/N was reminded of why he had fallen for him in the first place. Clark was kind, selfless, and endlessly patient—the kind of person who would give you the shirt off his back without a second thought. How could Y/N not fall in love with someone like that?

But that love was exactly what made Y/N so afraid. The more he cared about Clark, the more he feared losing him, either because of his uncontrolled magic or because of the feelings he couldn’t keep buried forever. He knew that if he stayed in Smallville, if he stayed close to Clark, something would eventually slip. Maybe he’d accidentally reveal his powers, or maybe his feelings would come spilling out in a moment of weakness. Either way, Y/N was sure that it would end with Clark looking at him differently, seeing him as something strange, something other.

Thankfully, the age of adulthood and high school graduation came, and Y/N took that as his way out. His parents were as worried as ever about him moving to a college so far away, but he reassured them he’d be fine.

He decided on college in New York, thinking the change from small town to big city was exactly what he needed. At least there, it made sense for people to turn a blind eye to whatever strange things were going on around them.

But even throughout his years of undergrad, Y/N could never shake the memories of Smallville, and more specifically, he could never forget Clark. No matter how much distance he put between them, the memories of their friendship lingered, haunting him in the quiet moments when he was alone. He would often catch himself thinking about Clark—wondering what he was doing, if he was still in Smallville, if he had moved on with his life the way Y/N had tried to.

Y/N thought that maybe, over time, those feelings would fade, that he would move on and forget the boy who had once meant everything to him. But they never did. Even in the crowded, bustling city of New York, where life moved at a breakneck pace and there was always something new to distract him, Y/N found his thoughts drifting back to Clark.

He tried dating other people, hoping that maybe if he found someone else, someone who wasn’t Clark, it would help him move on. But it never worked. No one else could compare to the boy who had always been there for him, who had seen him at his worst and never judged him for it. Every relationship ended the same way, with Y/N feeling like he was chasing something he could never have, like he was trying to fill a void that only Clark could fill.

Then, after graduation, Y/N was offered a job in Metropolis. It was a great opportunity, the kind of offer he couldn’t turn down. It wasn’t too far from where he was already living, but he figured a new change of scenery couldn’t be too bad.

Plus, he wanted to check out the rumors he’d heard of some sort of superhero who had started making headlines in Metropolis. The stories seemed almost too wild to believe—a man with superhuman strength, speed, and the ability to fly, saving people and fighting crime in the heart of the city. It was the kind of thing that would have been dismissed as tabloid nonsense anywhere else, but Y/N knew better. If there was one thing Smallville had taught him, it was that the extraordinary often hid in plain sight.

So, with a mix of curiosity and the desire for a fresh start, Y/N packed his bags and moved to Metropolis. He found a small, cozy apartment in a quieter part of the city, close enough to the action but far enough to avoid the chaos. The job was great—challenging, fulfilling, and exactly what he needed to take his mind off things. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t escape the feeling that he was still running, still trying to outrun the shadow of his past.

Despite his attempts to leave his old life behind, Y/N couldn’t completely ignore his powers. He had spent too long hiding them, too long fearing them, but deep down, he believed that if he had these abilities, he should use them for good. In Smallville, he had been careful, using his magic only when absolutely necessary, but here in Metropolis, he found himself with more opportunities to help in small, subtle ways.

He’d mend a broken bike chain with a whisper of an incantation or quietly heal a scraped knee when no one was looking. He’d use his magic to nudge a stray cat away from traffic or to coax a wilting plant back to life. He was always careful, always discreet, making sure that no one noticed the little miracles he performed. It was his way of giving back, of using the gifts he had been given to make the world around him just a little bit better.

But there were times when he couldn’t help but step in and do more.

One evening, he walked past a small, family-owned bookstore that he had become fond of. The owner, an elderly man who had run the shop for decades, was sitting behind the counter with a look of deep worry on his face. Over the weeks, Y/N had noticed the shelves becoming sparser, and the customers fewer. The man had confided in Y/N once, mentioning how the business was struggling, how the bills were piling up, and how he feared he might lose the store if things didn’t turn around soon.

Y/N couldn’t bear to see the man lose everything he had worked so hard to build. So, that night, under the cover of darkness, Y/N returned to the bookstore. He stood outside the shop, focusing his energy on the building, weaving a spell that would attract more customers and give the store a sense of warmth and welcoming. He whispered incantations for prosperity and good fortune, sending out waves of magic that would subtly influence the minds of those who passed by, drawing them in with an inexplicable urge to browse and buy.

Over the next few days, Y/N was delighted to see the shop bustling with customers. The owner’s smile returned, and the store was once again filled with the chatter of people and the smell of fresh coffee brewing in the corner. The shelves began to fill up again, and the old man even had to hire an assistant to help him manage the increasing business.

Another time, he found himself playing guardian angel when he was walking home from work one night and spotted a young woman on the opposite side of the street, her pace quickening as she noticed a group of men following her. Y/N’s heart raced, and he quickly assessed the situation. He couldn’t confront them directly—he wasn’t a superhero—but he could help in other ways.

A few thoughts and concentrated focus, and suddenly a series of events unfolded: a nearby street light flickered and went out, casting the area in shadow; a loud crash from behind pulled the men's attention away from her; a gentle breeze nudged her toward a more populated, well-lit area. With the streetlight out, it gave her natural cover long enough to slip out of sight and into the safety of a nearby diner, the sound of her heels muffled by Y/N’s magic.

Y/N watched from a distance, relieved when the woman was safe inside, her would-be attackers now lost and confused. It wasn’t the first time he had done something like that, and it wouldn’t be the last.

Recently, he visited a local hospital where a friend’s child was being treated. The doctors were worried; the illness wasn’t responding to treatment, and the prognosis was grim. Y/N spent hours by the child’s bedside, speaking softly to him, holding his hand. When no one was looking, he let his magic flow through him, just a touch, just enough to help the child’s body fight back.

The next morning, the doctors were stunned by the sudden improvement. They couldn’t explain it, chalked it up to a miracle or a sudden turn of fate, but Y/N knew better. He slipped away before anyone could question it, leaving behind only a whispered prayer of thanks for the child’s recovery.

Y/N never took credit for any of his acts. And while they weren’t grand, weren’t the stuff of legends, they were enough to give him a sense of purpose, a way to use his gifts without drawing too much attention. He was careful, always careful, to remain in the shadows, to let the world think these small miracles were just coincidences, nothing more.

But now, standing in his apartment, staring out at the city skyline, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like he was right back where he started. The memories of Smallville were stronger than ever, and the loneliness he had tried so hard to escape felt more suffocating in this big city than it ever had in the small town.

It had been years since he left, but the memories of that quiet town still lingered in his mind, especially the memories of Clark Kent. He just couldn’t figure out why they had suddenly become so strong. Maybe it was the time of year, or maybe it was because he had been thinking about how he used his magic to help people in Metropolis—something that Clark would surely approve of, even if he never knew about it.

Or maybe it was because, despite everything he had done to distance himself, Clark had always been there, a constant presence in his thoughts, no matter how much Y/N tried to move on.

He took another sip of his juice, the cool liquid doing little to ease the tightness in his chest. He hadn’t seen Clark in years, hadn’t heard from him since he left Smallville, but the feelings he had for his old friend hadn’t faded. If anything, they had only grown stronger, deepening with time and distance. And that was what scared him the most—how much he still cared, how much he still missed him.

Y/N set his glass down on the windowsill, running a hand through his hair as he tried to shake off the nostalgia. He had a new life now, a good life, and he couldn’t afford to dwell on the past. Clark was probably living his own life, happy and successful, just as Y/N was trying to do.

But the more he tried to push the memories away, the more they clung to him, like shadows that refused to disappear. He sighed, turning his gaze out the window, hoping that the familiar sight of the city would ground him, would remind him of the new path he had chosen.

The city lights twinkled in the distance, a sea of illumination against the darkened sky. Y/N’s eyes scanned the skyline absently, taking in the familiar sights he had grown accustomed to since moving to Metropolis. But something caught his eye, something unusual that made his breath catch in his throat.

High above the city, a figure streaked across the sky, moving with impossible speed and grace. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat as he recognized the red and blue blur—a sight that had become increasingly familiar to the citizens of Metropolis. It was Superman.

Y/N watched, mesmerized, as the figure soared through the night, his movements precise and powerful. But as he watched, a strange sensation began to creep over him, a feeling that made the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. It wasn’t just awe or admiration—though those feelings were there, too—it was something deeper, something unsettling.

There was something about Superman, something in the way he moved, in the way he seemed to command the air around him, that tugged at the edges of Y/N’s consciousness. It was as if some hidden part of him recognized the hero in the sky, even though he knew that was impossible. He had never met Superman, had never been anywhere near him. And yet…

Y/N pressed his hand against the cool glass of the window, his heart pounding in his chest. His magic, usually so controlled, began to stir, responding to the swirl of emotions inside him. The sensation was both familiar and alien, a strange mix of nostalgia and unease that made his chest tighten.

As he watched Superman disappear into the distance, Y/N couldn’t shake the eerie feeling that had settled over him. It was as if the presence of the hero had awakened something inside him, something that had been dormant for years. And with that awakening came a sense of foreboding, a nagging feeling that his past was not as far behind him as he had hoped.

Y/N tore his gaze away from the window, trying to dispel the uneasy feeling that had taken root in his chest. But even as he turned away, the sense of familiarity lingered, haunting him like a ghost from a life he had tried so hard to leave behind.

He closed his eyes, taking a deep breath, but the image of Superman remained burned into his mind, along with the inexplicable sense that something—someone—was drawing him back into a world he thought he had escaped.

And deep down, Y/N knew that this was only the beginning.

The grand ballroom of the Metropolis City Hall buzzed with chatter, the clinking of glasses, and the occasional burst of laughter. The charity event his job was sponsoring was in full swing, a glamorous affair with the city’s elite mingling and donating to a worthy cause. Y/N stood near the edge of the room, awkwardly holding a glass of water and wondering how quickly he could make a polite escape.

This wasn’t exactly his scene. Networking? Sure. Small talk? Not so much. Especially with these tone-deaf, overly stiff airheads.  He glanced around, trying to locate the nearest exit, but the sea of people made it difficult. And just when he thought found a suitable path of escape, a waiter with a tray of hors d'oeuvres suddenly appeared in front of him.

“Crab cake?”

“Uh, no thanks,” Y/N mumbled, sidestepping the tray, only to nearly collide with a woman in a sequined dress who was clearly on a mission to get to the bar. He offered a quick apology and finally made it to a quiet corner, where he could breathe again.

As he scanned the room, his thoughts drifted back to last night and a certain caped superhero. His curiosity combined with the still overwhelming feelings of longing and nostalgia had the magic in him feeling antsy. And the last thing Y/N needed was to accidentally cause a chandelier to implode or a champagne glass to refill itself endlessly.

He closed his eyes for a moment, taking a deep breath to steady himself, not wanting to make a big scene considering he wanted to make a hasty and sneaky exit. As he opened his eyes, Y/N forced his thoughts away from Superman, away from the strange connection he’d felt the night before. He needed to focus on the present, on getting through this evening without incident.

Y/N sighed, taking a sip of his water. This was supposed to be a fresh start. The past was behind him, and he needed to keep it that way.

But fate, as it often does, had other plans. Little sneaky bastard.

Just as he was about to make a break for the exit, Y/N’s eyes caught sight of someone across the room, and his heart nearly stopped. There, standing by the dessert table with a bemused expression, was Clark Kent.

Of course, Clark would be standing around looking lost with his cute little confused expression. Even now as a grown man, Clark managed to keep his boyish and innocent demeanor. Y/N’s mouth went dry as his eyes took in the sight of the male—older, more polished, and just as big as ever.

Since they were little, Clark always stood out among the other kids for his build and height alone. And it looks like that didn't change with the way he towered over everyone in the room and how his broad shoulders filled out his suit perfectly, the fabric clinging just right in all the places that mattered. Y/N felt a familiar flutter in his chest, a mix of nostalgia and something more complicated that he’d been trying to ignore for years.

Clark, as if sensing someone’s gaze on him, looked up from the dessert table. His eyes, those same bright blue eyes that Y/N remembered so well, scanned the room briefly before landing directly on him. Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, and for a split second, he considered ducking behind the nearest potted plant.

For a moment, neither of them moved. Y/N could feel his pulse in his throat, and for a second, he entertained the idea of hiding behind the nearest potted plant.

But then Clark’s face lit up with a grin that could have powered the entire room, and he started making his way over, weaving through the crowd with the kind of determined politeness that only Clark could pull off.

Panic set in, and Y/N’s mind scrambled for a plan, but his feet were rooted to the spot, his body betraying him. All he could do was watch as Clark closed the distance between them, that familiar grin never leaving his face.

“Y/N!” Clark’s voice was as warm and friendly as Y/N remembered, and before he knew it, he was being pulled into a hug that was just as firm and comforting as it had always been.

Y/N stiffened for a moment, caught off guard by the unexpected embrace. When Clark finally pulled back, still keeping a hand on Y/N’s shoulder as if afraid he might vanish, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the slight smudge of chocolate on Clark’s tie. It was such a Clark thing to have—always a little messy, always endearing.

“Clark,” Y/N managed to say, his voice coming out more breathless than he intended. “It’s been a while.”

Clark beamed at him, the smile reaching his eyes in that way that always made Y/N feel like everything was going to be okay. “Yeah, it really has,” Clark said, his tone filled with a warmth that made Y/N’s heart ache with memories of simpler times. “I almost didn’t recognize you without the Smallville backdrop.”

Y/N let out a small laugh, trying to keep things light despite the sudden rush of emotions threatening to overwhelm him. “Yeah, I guess we’ve both changed a bit.”

Clark’s gaze lingered on Y/N’s face, a mix of curiosity and concern in his eyes. It was clear that Clark had questions, but to his credit, he didn’t push. Instead, he gave Y/N one of those easy, reassuring smiles that had always been able to calm him down. “I’m really glad to see you again. I’ve missed you, Y/N.”

There it was—the punch to the gut that Y/N had been dreading. He had missed Clark too, more than he wanted to admit. But standing here, face-to-face with him after all these years, all those old fears and feelings began to resurface. The fear of Clark discovering the truth about his powers, about his feelings. The fear of losing the one person who had always meant the most to him.

“I’ve missed you too,” Y/N said, the words slipping out before he could stop them. It was the truth, but saying it out loud made the tightness in his chest even worse.

Clark’s smile softened, and for a brief moment, it felt like they were the only two people in the room. Y/N could almost believe that they could pick up where they left off, that everything could go back to the way it was. But deep down, he knew it could never be that simple.

His smile didn’t waver, but his eyes narrowed slightly, a familiar look of concern flickering across his face. “You okay? You seem a little… off.”

Y/N forced a laugh, hoping it didn’t sound as strained as it felt. “I’m fine, just—uh—surprised, I guess. I didn’t expect to see you here.”

“Well, surprise!” Clark laughed with his usual shy manner that was somehow still charming for Y/N’s frayed nerves. “I’ve been working at the Daily Planet. Moved to Metropolis not too long ago. How about you? What brings you here?”

“Work,” Y/N answered quickly, trying to keep the conversation light. “Got a job offer I couldn’t turn down.”

Clark nodded, his eyes never leaving Y/N. It was as if he was trying to read him, to figure out what was going on beneath the surface. For a moment, Y/N was afraid that Clark could see right through him, could see the turmoil and conflict he was struggling with.

But then, the moment passed, and Clark was smiling again, his expression softening.

Y/N cleared his throat, forcing his thoughts away from the past and back to the present. "So, the Daily Planet, huh? That’s a pretty big deal," he said, trying to keep the conversation light.

Clark’s eyes lit up, and he nodded enthusiastically. "Yeah! It’s been a dream come true. And the best part? I get to work with some amazing people—Lois Lane and Jimmy Olsen. They’re right over there, actually," Clark added, his tone suddenly turning a bit more nervous. "You’ve got to meet them!"

Before Y/N could even process the idea, Clark grabbed his arm, leading him through the crowd with an urgency that caught Y/N off guard. He barely had time to adjust before they were standing in front of a petite woman with sharp eyes and a confident demeanor, who was mid-conversation with a young man enthusiastically fiddling with a vintage camera.

"Lois! Jimmy!" Clark called out, drawing their attention.

Lois turned first, her eyes narrowing slightly as she took in Y/N. Then her expression softened into a warm, welcoming smile. "Clark! Who’s this?"

Clark beamed, looking from Lois to Y/N with a hint of nervous energy. "This is Y/N. We grew up together in Smallville."

"Smallville?" Lois’s eyebrow arched with clear interest. "Now that’s a place with some stories, I bet."

Jimmy, now peering at Y/N through the lens of his camera, quickly snapped a picture before lowering it with an apologetic grin. "Sorry, couldn’t resist. It’s a habit."

Y/N chuckled, shaking his head. "No worries. I’m used to it."

Lois leaned in, her curiosity clearly piqued. "So, Y/N, what was Clark like back in Smallville? I can only imagine."

Y/N glanced at Clark, who looked both hopeful and slightly anxious. "Clark and I were pretty much inseparable growing up," Y/N said with a smile, trying to keep the conversation light. "He was always the guy you could count on, the one who’d help you out of a jam and then offer you pie afterward."

Lois’s eyes twinkled with intrigue, clearly not ready to let the topic go. "Pie and jam, huh? Sounds like you two got into some interesting situations. Any fun stories you care to share?"

Y/N felt his heart rate pick up. He could sense the inquisitiveness behind Lois’s casual tone, the way she was gently probing for more. She was good—really good. "Oh, you know, small-town stuff," he said, forcing a chuckle. "Mostly just boring farm work and school."

Clark, sensing Y/N’s discomfort, quickly jumped in. "Yeah, nothing too exciting. Just your average childhood, right, Y/N?"

"Right," Y/N agreed, a bit too quickly. He could feel Lois’s eyes on him, studying him, and it made his magic stir uneasily. The last thing he wanted was for her to start asking more pointed questions that might lead her to the truth.

Lois didn’t miss a beat. "So, you two must have been really close, then. I bet you know all of Clark’s secrets," she said with a teasing smile, though there was a hint of genuine curiosity in her voice.

Y/N’s stomach dropped. He forced another laugh, this one more strained. "Well, everyone’s got their secrets, right?"

Lois raised an eyebrow, clearly catching the subtle tension in Y/N’s voice. "True," she said slowly, her eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to piece together a puzzle. "But something tells me you’re not just any old friend from Smallville."

Clark, sensing that the conversation was veering into dangerous territory, let out a nervous laugh. "Lois, come on, don’t interrogate him on the first meeting!"

Jimmy, sensing the shift in tone, chimed in, grinning as he tried to lighten the mood. "Yeah, Lois, ease up! You don’t want to scare off Clark’s oldest friend."

Lois gave a soft laugh, raising her hands in mock surrender. "Alright, alright. I’ll back off… for now."

Y/N smiled, but there was a tightness in his chest that he couldn’t shake. Lois’s perceptiveness had always been one of her strengths, and it was clear she was picking up on more than he wanted to reveal.

"Seriously, though," Lois said, her tone softening as she gave Y/N a more genuine smile. "It’s good to meet you. Any friend of Clark’s is a friend of ours."

Y/N relaxed slightly, appreciating the warm reception despite his earlier nerves. "Thanks, Lois. I appreciate that."

As the conversation continued, Y/N found himself relaxing a bit more, though the earlier tension still lingered in the back of his mind. He knew he’d have to be careful around Lois—her curiosity and sharp instincts were not something to be underestimated.

Lois, ever the sharp-eyed reporter, leaned closer to Y/N. "So, what brings you to Metropolis? Work?"

"Yeah," Y/N nodded, "I got an offer I couldn’t turn down."

Lois nodded, impressed. "Well, welcome to the city. You know, we’re always looking for interesting people to feature in the Planet. Maybe we’ll run into each other more often."

"Maybe," Y/N said, feeling a bit more at ease. "It’s a small world after all."

Clark chuckled at that, his earlier nervousness fading as the conversation flowed more naturally. "I’m really glad we ran into each other, Y/N. We should definitely hang out more. I mean, if you’re not too busy with work."

Realistically, Y/N should have declined. He should have politely excused himself and gone home, putting an end to the whole thing. But when he looked at Clark, saw the hope and excitement in his eyes, he couldn't bring himself to say no.

All his nervous thoughts and reservations about what could happen if he allowed himself to get close to Clark again seemed to just fade to the back of his mind as he re-connected with him and got to know his two friends. A new familiar feeling also settled in place as well, but not so much nostalgia.

It was more of something he didn't even remember feeling. A sense of ease and comfort, his magic calm and feeling completely grounded. A feeling he hadn't experienced in a long time but something that wasn't new or unfamiliar, a very welcomed sensation and peace.

"I'd love to," Y/N said, his heart skipping a beat.

Clark's smile was brighter than the sun, and though Y/N knew he was in trouble just for that, emotions and impulse overtook his logic. Thus, he didn't really care.

As the night continued, Y/N found himself more at ease, the earlier tension gradually dissipating. Lois, ever the investigative reporter, kept throwing glances his way, but she seemed content for now, her curiosity temporarily satisfied. Jimmy, meanwhile, was snapping pictures of everything and everyone, his energy infectious.

Y/N had to admit, despite his initial apprehension, he was enjoying himself. The company was good, the conversation flowed easily, and for the first time in a long time, he felt like he was part of something. A small part of him wondered if this was what he had been missing—connection, camaraderie, a sense of belonging.

Clark leaned in closer, a warm smile on his face. "So, Y/N, how have you been? I mean, really been?"

Y/N paused, considering his answer. He could have brushed off the question, given a generic response about work being busy and life being hectic. But something about the way Clark asked, the genuine concern in his voice, made Y/N want to be honest.

"I’ve been… okay," Y/N said, the words coming out slower than he expected. "Moving to Metropolis has been a big change, but it’s good. I’m still finding my way, I guess."

Clark nodded, his expression softening with understanding. "I get that. Moving here was a big adjustment for me too. But you know, it helps when you’ve got friends around. People you can rely on."

Y/N smiled at that, a warmth spreading through him. "Yeah, it does."

Lois, sensing the shift in the conversation, jumped back in with her trademark curiosity. "So, Y/N, what exactly do you do for work? You mentioned an offer you couldn’t turn down."

Y/N hesitated, not wanting to reveal too much. "I work in consulting," he said, keeping it vague. "It’s a bit of everything, really. I help businesses with strategy, operations, that sort of thing."

Lois’s eyes narrowed slightly, clearly not satisfied with the lack of detail, but she let it slide, for now. "That sounds interesting. Metropolis must be a great place for that kind of work."

"It is," Y/N replied, grateful she didn’t press further.

Jimmy, ever the enthusiastic one, suddenly popped up between them, holding out his camera. "Hey, how about a picture? You guys look great together!"

Y/N barely had time to react before Jimmy was positioning them for a shot, his camera clicking away. Clark chuckled, clearly used to Jimmy’s antics, while Lois struck a pose with practiced ease.

As they waited for the flash, Y/N couldn’t help but feel a sense of surrealism wash over him. Here he was, reconnecting with an old friend, surrounded by new ones, in a city that was starting to feel less like a strange place and more like a potential home.

The camera flashed, capturing the moment, and Jimmy grinned as he checked the screen. "Perfect! This one’s definitely going in the album."

Lois nodded in agreement, a smile on her face. "Yeah, this is one for the books. You’re officially part of the crew now, Y/N."

Y/N laughed, the sound genuine and light. "Well, I guess there’s no turning back now."

Clark’s smile was warm, his eyes shining with something that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. "I’m really glad you’re here, Y/N. It feels like old times."

Y/N nodded, feeling a mix of emotions swirl within him. "Yeah, it does."

As the evening drew on, the four of them continued to chat, the conversation flowing easily between light-hearted banter and more serious topics. Y/N felt a connection with Clark and his friends that he hadn’t felt in a long time, and for the first time since moving to Metropolis, he allowed himself to relax and enjoy the moment.

But as the night wore on and the event began to wind down, Y/N couldn’t shake the nagging feeling at the back of his mind. Lois’s earlier questions had been harmless enough, but he knew her type—persistent, sharp, and always on the lookout for a story. He couldn’t afford to let his guard down too much, especially with his magic always threatening to reveal itself.

Yet, despite the risks, Y/N found himself wanting to spend more time with Clark, to catch up on the years they’d missed, and maybe even find a way to make this new life in Metropolis work. It was a dangerous line to walk, but for tonight, he was willing to take that risk.

As they all said their goodbyes and made plans to meet up again soon, Y/N felt a sense of contentment settle over him. Maybe this fresh start in Metropolis wouldn’t be as complicated as he feared. Maybe, just maybe, he could find a way to balance the old and the new, to keep his secrets while building something real with the people who were quickly becoming more than just acquaintances.

And maybe, this time, since he was older and more aware and mature, he could keep his feelings for Clark in check.

Yeah, that hope didn't last long.

Y/N sighed as he stared up at the ceiling of his apartment, reflecting on how quickly things had spiraled out of control since reconnecting with Clark. It had only been a few weeks, but in that short time, his life had become a whirlwind of old emotions, new challenges, and unexpected complications.

He’d spent more time with Clark, Lois, and Jimmy than he had anticipated. There were coffee runs, after-work dinners, and late-night brainstorming sessions where Lois would excitedly discuss her latest scoop while Jimmy showed off his latest photos. Clark, ever the supportive friend, would listen intently, adding his own insights with that same gentle warmth that had always made Y/N feel at ease.

Lois and Jimmy were friendly and welcoming, but Y/N could never fully relax around them. He still had to always be on guard, constantly aware of the magic simmering just beneath the surface.

And despite the camaraderie, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling of being out of place. It wasn’t just that he was trying to reintegrate into Clark’s life; it was the constant need to keep his magic under control, especially around Lois and Jimmy. The two of them were sharp—Lois, with her inquisitive nature, and Jimmy, with his keen eye for detail. They’d pick up on any slip-up, any sign that Y/N wasn’t just an ordinary guy from Smallville.

And then there were the moments of crisis—because Metropolis was never short on those. It seemed like every time Y/N was with the trio, something would happen. A runaway bus, a building fire, some random new villain on the loose—something always required Superman’s intervention. And every single time, Clark would disappear with a flimsy excuse, only for Superman to show up moments later.

The first time it happened, Y/N had been at a food truck with Clark and Jimmy, enjoying a rare sunny afternoon. They were laughing about something silly Jimmy had said when suddenly, the sound of screeching tires and panicked screams filled the air. Without missing a beat, Clark had mumbled something about needing to make a quick call and bolted, leaving Y/N standing there confused with Lois and Jimmy. Moments later, Superman was on the scene, saving the day like clockwork.

Lois and Jimmy had immediately sprung into action, Jimmy snapping photos while Lois started interviewing witnesses. They had been weirdly calm about the whole thing, a lot of things actually when Y/N thought about it. It was like Smallville all over again, things that should cause people to react with caution and apprehension, but instead, they barely blinked an eye.

It didn’t help that every time Clark returned, he looked winded and disheveled, and Lois would give him a knowing glance that made Y/N’s stomach twist with unease.

Meanwhile, he'd also been using his magic discreetly in these various scenarios to help keep people safe and minimize destruction and casualties. But in the chaos, he’d nearly been caught by Lois, who had turned around just as Y/N was subtly redirecting a beam of wood away from a trapped child.

“Hey, how’d you do that?” she’d asked, her sharp eyes narrowing in suspicion.

Y/N had stammered out a weak excuse, something about adrenaline and luck, but he could tell Lois wasn’t convinced. She’d given him that look—the one that said she wasn’t done with him yet.

And it wasn’t the last time, either. Every time something happened, Y/N found himself using his magic to help, and every time, he came dangerously close to being caught by Lois. She was perceptive, and it was clear she was starting to get suspicious. Her questions about his past, about his connection to Clark, were getting more pointed, and Y/N could feel the pressure mounting.

But there was another element to this that Y/N hadn’t anticipated—jealousy. The more time he spent with the group, the more he noticed how close Clark and Lois were. It wasn’t just their professional partnership; it was the way they interacted, the easy banter, the shared looks, the inside jokes. Y/N couldn’t help but notice the way Clark’s eyes lit up whenever Lois was around, how he seemed more at ease with her than anyone else.

It irritated Y/N more than he wanted to admit. He knew it was irrational—Clark was allowed to have close friends, and Lois was obviously important to him. But every time he saw them together, it felt like a thorn in his side, a constant reminder of how complicated things had become. It didn’t help that Lois was so naturally curious, always asking questions about his and Clark’s past, digging into their history with a relentless enthusiasm that made Y/N squirm.

And then there were the quiet moments—those rare instances when it was just Y/N and Clark, away from the chaos of the city. They’d talk about everything and nothing, slipping into the easy rhythm of their past friendship. But every time, Y/N felt the old feelings bubbling up, stronger than ever.

Like the night they’d gone for a walk along the Metropolis River. The city lights reflected off the water, casting a soft glow over everything. Clark had been unusually quiet, his hands tucked into his pockets as they strolled. Y/N had felt the tension between them, the unspoken words hanging in the air.

“I’m glad you’re here, Y/N,” Clark had said suddenly, breaking the silence. “It’s like… it feels right, having you around again.”

Y/N had smiled, but it hadn’t reached his eyes. He wanted to say something—anything—that would match the sincerity in Clark’s voice, but the words had caught in his throat. Instead, he’d just nodded, trying to ignore the way his heart raced every time Clark looked at him like that.

But every time they were together, every time Clark smiled at him or brushed against him accidentally, Y/N felt his resolve weakening. It was getting harder to pretend that everything was fine, that he didn’t still have feelings for Clark.

And as they spent more time together, Y/N couldn’t help but wonder—did Clark feel it too? There were moments, subtle ones, where Y/N thought he saw something in Clark’s eyes, a lingering gaze, a soft smile that seemed meant just for him. But then Clark would pull back, or Lois would step in, and Y/N was left questioning if it was all in his head.

But now, lying on his couch and staring at the ceiling, Y/N couldn’t ignore it anymore. The old feelings hadn’t just resurfaced—they were drowning him, pulling him under with a force he couldn’t fight.

It wasn’t just about Clark, though that was a huge part of it. It was the fear of what would happen if Clark—or worse, Lois and Jimmy—found out about his magic. They were all so caught up in their own world of secrets and dangers, and Y/N wasn’t sure if he could handle being part of it. He wasn’t sure if he could keep up the act much longer.

His phone buzzed on the coffee table, pulling him out of his thoughts. He glanced at the screen and saw a message from Clark: Hey, want to grab dinner with Lois and Jimmy? We’re thinking Thai.

Y/N hesitated for a moment before typing a quick reply: Sure, sounds good.

As he grabbed his jacket and headed out the door, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that he was walking a tightrope, balancing between the life he had built for himself and the one he had left behind. And with every step, he was getting closer to falling off.

As Y/N walked to the restaurant, he kept his hands stuffed deep in his pockets, trying to calm the unease that had settled in his chest. He needed to get a grip, to find a way to keep his feelings in check before they, and thus his magic spiraled out of control. The last thing he wanted was for Clark to notice—or worse, for Lois to start asking questions.

By the time he reached the restaurant, Y/N had managed to push his anxiety down, forcing a smile as he spotted Clark, Lois, and Jimmy waiting outside. Clark waved him over, his smile as bright as ever.

"Hey, glad you could make it," Clark greeted him with his usual warm and bright tone.

"Heh, wouldn't miss it," Y/N chuckled, trying to keep his voice casual.

As they ate, Y/N couldn’t help but notice the easy dynamic between Lois and Clark. There was a familiarity there, an unspoken understanding that made Y/N’s chest tighten with a mix of jealousy and longing. He wanted to be part of that, to be as close to Clark as Lois was.

But then Lois turned to him, her sharp eyes studying him with that same curiosity he’d noticed at the gala. “So, Y/N, what was Clark like back in Smallville? He never talks much about his hometown.”

Y/N felt his pulse quicken. He shot a quick glance at Clark, who was suddenly very interested in his pad Thai.

“Oh, you know,” Y/N began, trying to keep his tone light, “just your average small-town kid. We spent a lot of time getting into trouble and trying to keep out of it.”

Lois raised an eyebrow, clearly not satisfied with the vague answer. “Really? I find that hard to believe. Clark’s practically the poster boy for responsibility.”

Y/N forced a laugh, trying to deflect Lois’s probing gaze. “Yeah, well, even poster boys have their moments. We were just kids, you know? Doing dumb stuff like exploring abandoned barns or sneaking out to the creek after dark. Nothing too wild.”

Lois leaned in slightly, her eyes narrowing with that trademark inquisitiveness. “Come on, Y/N, you’re holding out on me. I want the juicy details. What kind of trouble did Clark get into?”

Y/N could feel the heat rising in his face, a mix of nerves, and the pressure of trying to avoid any slip-ups. “Honestly, it was mostly me dragging him into stuff. Clark was always the one keeping me out of serious trouble.”

Clark chuckled nervously, his eyes darting between Y/N and Lois. “Yeah, Y/N was always the adventurous one. I was just along for the ride.”

Jimmy, sensing the tension, tried to lighten the mood. “I don’t know, Lois. I think Clark’s just good at covering his tracks. Bet he’s got a whole secret rebellious side we don’t know about.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at Jimmy’s words, the irony of the statement not lost on him. If only they knew just how many secrets Clark was hiding—or how many he was keeping himself.

Lois, however, wasn’t so easily deterred. “I don’t doubt it,” she said, her eyes flicking back to Y/N with a knowing smile. “And I bet you’ve got some secrets of your own, Y/N. You seem like the type who’s good at keeping things under wraps.”

Y/N’s smile faltered for just a second before he forced it back into place. “Who doesn’t have a few secrets?” he replied, trying to keep his tone light and nonchalant.

Lois’s gaze lingered on him a moment longer, and Y/N could practically feel her trying to piece together the puzzle she was sure he was hiding. He shifted uncomfortably, desperate to change the subject.

“Anyway,” Y/N said, his voice a bit too loud in his haste to redirect the conversation, “what about you guys? You’ve all been working together for a while now. Any crazy stories from the Daily Planet?”

Clark gave him a grateful smile, clearly relieved at the change in topic. “Oh, you know, it’s mostly just chasing down leads and trying to stay out of trouble ourselves.”

Lois smirked. “Mostly. There have been a few close calls, though. Like that time we were covering that gala and—”

But before she could continue, there was a sudden commotion outside the restaurant. The sound of screeching tires and shouting filled the air, followed by the unmistakable sound of something crashing into a building.

Clark’s expression immediately shifted to one of concern. “I’ll, uh, be right back,” he mumbled, already moving toward the door.

Moments later, Superman was on the scene, and Y/N found himself once again in the midst of a crisis, trying to discreetly use his magic to help those around him. He directed falling debris away from pedestrians, subtly reinforced a crumbling wall, and calmed panicked civilians—all while trying to stay out of Lois’s line of sight.

As Y/N moved through the chaos, he couldn’t help but keep one eye on Lois. She was already pulling out her phone, likely trying to reach out to sources or start documenting the scene for the Daily Planet. But more than once, Y/N caught her glancing his way, her sharp eyes narrowing as if she were trying to figure something out.

It didn’t help that every time Y/N used his magic, Lois seemed to notice something was off. Like when he subtly redirected a falling streetlight away from a group of bystanders, Lois had been nearby and had whipped around, her eyes narrowing as she spotted Y/N standing there, his hand half-raised.

“Where, how did you—” she started, but Y/N cut her off quickly.

“Uh, just lucky timing,” he said, flashing what he hoped was a convincing grin.

Lois didn’t look convinced, but before she could press further, another explosion rocked the area as Superman swooped across the sky in a fight with some new villain. Lois’s attention was immediately drawn away as she dashed off to get closer to the action, leaving Y/N with a brief moment of relief.

But it was short-lived. He could feel the weight of his secret bearing down on him, the fear that at any moment, Lois would start putting the pieces together. She was too perceptive, too determined to uncover the truth, and Y/N was running out of excuses.

Y/N’s heart pounded as he watched Lois dart away, her focus now on Superman’s battle overhead. The city block was in chaos—buildings crumbling, cars overturned, and terrified civilians running for cover. Y/N could feel the familiar tingle of his magic, urging him to act, but he hesitated. He was too exposed, too close to Lois and Jimmy, who were both still in the thick of things, trying to stay safe while getting their story.

But then he saw it—a mother and her young child, trapped beneath a fallen piece of debris, their terrified cries cutting through the noise. Without thinking, Y/N moved. He knew he couldn’t just stand by and do nothing.

Darting through the chaos, he reached the trapped pair, his heart racing. The chunk of concrete pinning them was far too heavy for him to lift on his own, but that didn’t stop him from trying. He pretended to struggle with it for a moment, glancing around to make sure no one was watching too closely. Then, with a whispered incantation, he let his magic flow, lifting the debris just enough for the mother to pull her child to safety.

“Go! Get out of here!” Y/N urged them, and they didn’t need to be told twice. They scrambled to their feet and ran, not looking back.

But as Y/N released his grip on the concrete, allowing it to crash back to the ground, he felt a prickling at the back of his neck. He turned just in time to see Lois standing a few feet away, her eyes wide with a mixture of shock and suspicion.

“Y/N…” she started, her voice barely audible over the sounds of destruction around them. “How did you—”

Before she could finish, a loud crash interrupted her, drawing their attention to the ongoing battle above. Superman was locked in a fierce struggle with the villain, who was wielding some kind of energy weapon that was tearing through the city with reckless abandon.

Lois hesitated for a split second, torn between confronting Y/N and rushing to cover the story. The journalist in her won out, and she turned to run towards the action, but not before shooting Y/N one last look, a promise that this conversation wasn’t over.

Y/N let out a shaky breath, but there was no time to dwell on what Lois had seen. The battle was escalating, and the destruction was growing worse by the second. He knew he had to do more, had to use his magic more openly if he wanted to save lives. The fear of exposure warred with his instinct to help, but his desire to help won out.

As Y/N wove his way through the chaos, he could feel his magic surging within him, responding to his need to act. With each subtle spell, he could feel the pressure mounting, the risk of being discovered growing with every passing moment. But he couldn't stop, not when so many lives were at stake.

As Y/N moved through the chaos, helping people where he could, he lost himself in the urgency of the moment. He pulled a child out of harm's way, extinguished small fires with a flick of his wrist, and used his magic to steady a teetering scaffold that was threatening to collapse onto a group of bystanders. Every action was instinctual, his focus so intense that he didn’t even notice how close he was getting to the epicenter of the danger.

Meanwhile, Superman was engaged in a fierce battle with the villain, their clash sending shockwaves through the city. Clark’s attention was divided, trying to subdue the threat while keeping an eye on his friends below. But in the midst of the fight, he noticed Y/N inching dangerously close to the conflict.

“Y/N, get back!” Superman shouted, his voice strained with panic as he saw Y/N unwittingly step into the path of a collapsing billboard that had been dislodged during the battle.

Time seemed to slow as Clark realized he wouldn’t reach Y/N in time, especially with his opponent actively trying to block his way. His heart pounded in his chest, fear gripping him like a vice. But just as the massive billboard was about to crush him, Y/N’s instincts kicked in.

Without even thinking, Y/N threw up his hands, and a powerful force field erupted around him, deflecting the billboard away and sending it crashing harmlessly to the ground. The magic burst out of him like a tidal wave, raw and unfiltered, saving him in the nick of time.

The impact of what had just happened hit Y/N all at once. He stood there, breathless and trembling, staring at the spot where the billboard had fallen. His heart raced as he realized how close he’d come to being crushed—and how easily he had saved himself with powers.

Superman, who had seen the entire event unfold, hovered in the air, momentarily stunned. His mind raced, trying to comprehend what he had just witnessed. Y/N had powers—real, undeniable powers. And in that instant, a dozen memories from their time together in Smallville flashed through his mind, moments that suddenly made sense in a new, startling way.

The villain took advantage of Superman’s distraction, launching one final attack. But Superman, fueled by a surge of determination, quickly regained focus. With a swift, powerful strike, he knocked the villain off his feet, sending him crashing to the ground, unconscious and defeated.

The battle was over, but the tension in the air was far from dissipated.

Superman landed softly on the ground, his eyes never leaving Y/N. The adrenaline from the fight was still coursing through him, but now it was mixed with a cocktail of emotions—shock, confusion, and something deeper, something more personal.

Y/N looked up, locking eyes with Superman for the first time. The two of them stood there, surrounded by the remnants of the battle, but it felt as if the world had narrowed down to just the two of them.

“Y/N,” Superman began, his voice uncharacteristically shaky. He took a step forward, but before he could say more, Lois and Jimmy rushed over, their faces a mix of concern and relief.

Superman took a step toward Y/N, his mind racing with questions, but before he could say more, Lois and Jimmy rushed over, their faces a mix of concern and urgency.

"Superman," Lois called out, her voice edged with urgency as she glanced around. "We’re in the middle of the street. People are starting to notice."

Jimmy nodded, his camera hanging by his side as he scanned the area. “Yeah, maybe we should take this somewhere a little less… public.”

Superman blinked, realizing the gravity of the situation. There were indeed a few onlookers, phones out, capturing the aftermath of the battle. The last thing he needed was more attention, especially with Y/N’s secret now out in the open.

He turned to Y/N, his eyes filled with both concern and determination. “Y/N, we need to talk. But not here. Do you trust me?”

Y/N, still shaken from everything that had happened, hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yeah, I trust you.”

Superman gave him a small, reassuring smile before glancing back at Lois and Jimmy. “I’ll explain everything later, but right now, I need to get Y/N out of here.”

Lois gave a curt nod, understanding the need for discretion. “We’ll cover for you. Just… be careful.”

Jimmy shot Y/N a quick thumbs-up, though his expression was tinged with curiosity and concern. “We’ll handle the crowd. Go.”

With a final nod, Superman wrapped an arm around Y/N’s waist, holding him securely. “Hold on tight.”

Before Y/N could fully process what was happening, they were airborne, the ground falling away as Superman lifted them into the sky. The wind rushed past them as they soared above the city, the chaos of the battle below quickly becoming a distant memory.

Y/N clung to Superman, his heart racing not just from the flight but from the whirlwind of emotions and revelations that had just unfolded. He had always admired Superman from afar, but now, being so close, knowing that this was Clark—it was almost too much to take in.

They flew in silence, the cityscape sprawling out beneath them, until finally, Superman began to descend, landing gently on the rooftop of the Daily Planet building. The iconic globe loomed above them, casting long shadows in the setting sun.

Superman set Y/N down carefully, stepping back to give him space. For a moment, they just stood there, the weight of everything unsaid hanging between them.

Clark, still in his Superman suit but with the familiar warmth of his old friend in his eyes, took a step closer. “I know. It’s a lot to take in. For both of us.”

Y/N nodded, his mind racing with a thousand questions. “So, you're Superman?”

A faint blush along with his nervous smile appeared on his face, a glimpse of the boy Y/N had known. "Yeah, I guess you could say that."

A moment of silence passed before Y/N spoke again, "I really don't get how people don't catch on faster. The only visible difference is the glasses," he said, gesturing to the frames on Clark's face.

Clark looked confused for a moment, "Wait, huh? Did you know?"

"Well, not for sure. But I had my suspicions. I mean, the glasses, the timing of your disappearances, the fact that you were never around whenever Superman showed up... it wasn't exactly hard to put the pieces together. But, I didn't know until I saw you up close. Until now, whenever you were Superman, I wasn't close enough to get a good look. Then, you were right in front of me, and well, it was like, 'Oh yeah, that makes complete sense,'" Y/N admitted, rambling a little.

"Oh," was all Clark could manage, a sheepish look on his face.

"Why did you never tell me?" Y/N asked, his voice soft.

Clark sighed, his expression conflicted. "I wanted to, believe me. But it's not exactly something I can just go around telling people. And after everything that happened back in Smallville, I didn't want to put you in any more danger. I guess, we were both keeping secrets."

Y/N paused for a moment, now realizing the irony of the situation before laughing under his breath, "Sneaky little bastard strikes again."

"Huh?"

"Nothing, just a little joke to myself," Y/N explained, before pausing and looking at his friend, taking in his entire superhero appearance, "Wow, looking at you now, and thinking back to everything, everything now makes so much sense."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you being able to stop cars without getting injured. Or people always calling your parents to ask for you when their tractor was broken down. And that time you and Suzy were playing in Old Man Ferris's field and he almost mowed her over with the shredder but you saved her and broke the shredder in the process. I always thought it was weird, but now, it's obvious," Y/N said, his tone a mixture of amusement and disbelief.

"I mean, it could've just been weak metal," Clark tried to argue, but the blush creeping up his neck betrayed his embarrassment.

"Clark, no offense, but anyone else verse that shredder would've been minced meat. And yet, one run-in with you and it had been totaled with no chance of repair. Which, did he ever get a new one?"

"Yeah, the town all chipped in to get him one while my parents got him insurance on it for a year as an apology."

"Hmm, you know for the amount of weird things that have gone on in that town between you and me alone, you'd think someone would've said something or freaked out," Y/N commented, shaking his head.

"Yeah, well, Smallville is a weird place," Clark chuckled, a hint of nostalgia in his voice.

"That it is," Y/N agreed, a fond smile tugging at his lips.

Clark cleared his throat while rubbing the back of his neck, "I guess things also make sense for you too. All those times that lights and power in school went out after you got angry, things disappearing and reappearing in random places, and that one time you got in an argument with a squirrel. Can you talk to animals with your powers?"

"Okay, first of all, we didn't have to bring that specific instance up. You remember everyone made fun of me for like a month after that happened. And either way, that squirrel had it coming," Y/N said, a slight pout on his face.

"It was a squirrel, Y/N."

"And it was a jerk!"

"How was it a jerk?"

"It kept throwing acorns at me and always running at me like it wanted to fight. I can't understand animals naturally unless there's a spell for it that I just haven't figured out, but they do seem to gravitate towards me for whatever reason. But, that squirrel had it out for me since freshman year and I was just trying to defend myself," Y/N argued, his voice taking on a slightly whiny tone.

"By arguing with it?"

"Well, yes," Y/N said, crossing his arms, "But, it was a very heated argument."

"If you say so," Clark laughed, his eyes bright with amusement.

Clark's laughter filled the air, and for a moment, it felt like they were back in Smallville, two friends joking around like they used to. But the reality of their situation quickly settled back in, and the weight of everything that had happened—everything that had been revealed—hung between them.

"So, magic," Clark said after a beat, his tone more serious. "I can't believe you were hiding that all these years."

Y/N shrugged, looking down at his feet. "It wasn't exactly something I could just go around telling people. Especially not in Smallville. I barely understood it myself, and my parents were terrified of what might happen if anyone found out. They were always worried that some government agency would swoop in and take me away if I ever slipped up."

Clark nodded, his expression thoughtful. "I get that. My parents had similar fears about me. We were both trying to protect each other, in our own way."

"Yeah," Y/N agreed quietly. He glanced up at Clark, a hesitant smile on his face. "It's kind of ironic, isn't it? Both of us with these...abilities and we never knew about each other."

Clark smiled back, but there was something in his eyes—something that made Y/N's heart skip a beat. "I wish I had known," Clark said softly. "Maybe things would have been different."

"Maybe," Y/N echoed, the word hanging in the air between them.

A comfortable silence settled over them, the kind that only old friends could share. The sun was beginning to set, casting a warm glow over the city. Y/N found himself getting lost in the moment, in the quiet presence of his friend, the tension of the past few weeks slowly ebbing away.

But then Clark spoke again, his voice filled with an emotion that Y/N couldn't quite place. "You know, I've always felt like there was something more between us. Even back then."

Y/N's breath caught in his throat. He looked at Clark, his eyes searching his friend's face for any sign that he might be joking, but all he saw was sincerity. "What do you mean?"

Clark hesitated as if trying to find the right words. "I mean... I've always cared about you, Y/N. More than just as a friend."

The confession hung in the air, and Y/N's heart pounded in his chest. He had dreamed of hearing those words for so long, but now that they were here, he didn't know how to respond. His feelings for Clark had been buried deep for years, hidden away to protect both himself and their friendship.

"Clark, I..." Y/N began, but his voice faltered. He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. "I care about you too. A lot. But this—" He gestured to the city below them, to Superman’s suit, to everything around them. "This is complicated. Our lives are so different now."

Clark stepped closer, his expression earnest. "I know it’s complicated. But maybe we can figure it out together."

Y/N looked into Clark's eyes, seeing the hope and the warmth there, and for a moment, he allowed himself to believe that maybe, just maybe, they could make this work. He thought about all the things they had been through, the secrets they had kept, the bond that had never really broken despite the years and the distance.

He smiled softly, his heart finally settling into a steady rhythm. "I'd like that," he said, his voice barely above a whisper.

Clark's smile was brighter than the sunset behind him, and Y/N felt a warmth spread through him that had nothing to do with the fading sunlight. For the first time in a long while, things felt right. Complicated, yes, but right.

But before they could say anything more, the door to the rooftop burst open, and Lois and Jimmy came rushing in, both looking out of breath and a little frantic.

"Clark! Y/N!" Lois called out, her eyes wide as she took in the scene before her. "You guys okay? We’ve been looking everywhere for you."

"Yeah, we’re fine," Clark said, quickly stepping back from Y/N, though he couldn’t quite hide the smile on his face.

Jimmy glanced between the two of them, a knowing smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. "You know, you guys really should be more careful. The paparazzi would have a field day if they caught Superman having a heart-to-heart with some random guy on a rooftop."

Lois rolled her eyes but nodded in agreement. "He's right. We should get off this rooftop before someone spots us."

Clark looked at Y/N, his expression a mix of reluctance and agreement. "Yeah, you're right." He turned back to Y/N, his voice softening. "We'll talk more later, okay?"

Y/N nodded, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nervousness about what that conversation would bring. "Yeah, later."

With that, they all made their way back down to the city, where the chaos of the day had finally settled. But even as they stepped back into the world, Y/N couldn't shake the feeling that something significant had shifted between them.

And for the first time, he was ready to see where it would lead.

☀️ | Clark Kent/Superman | ☀️

☀️ | Masterlists | ☀️

[shibaraki]

BITE INHIBITION ┊ CHOSO

tags: GN reader, no curse au, human reader, vampire choso, bites (aphrodisiac effects), drinking of blood, creatures and monsters aren’t widely known, sexual tension, kissing, ambiguous relationship

wc: 1.3K

Above, you note that pinpricks of light are beginning to show behind rust-edged clouds as the sky darkens.

You inhale.

The hug of old houses act as sentries to the alleyway. A narrow space covered by a canopy of vivid neon signs, washing the darkened surroundings in a red-yellow glow. It’s crowded. There’s nothing unnatural about the scene in front of you, just everyday people gathered for drinks to wind down after work, and yet knowing what—and who—could be hiding amongst them has you on high alert.

You exhale. With resolve you begin to weave through the throngs of tipsy salarymen. They slur apologies and obscenities and stumble at your intrusion. Your eyes scan their flushed, slack faces, unsure what it is you expect to find there. Something fearsome and monstrous and unfamiliar.

“In here”.

Ice coils around your wrist. You yelp as you’re tugged aside and pulled through a pair of curtains hung across a dim-lit doorway. Immediately, as if stepping into an entirely different world, the noise lowers into a pleasant din. You land against a solid surface and start to squirm.

“Be calm. It’s me. Are you alright?”

Hushed and gentle, Choso’s breath puffs right against your ear. A plush lower lip brushes the delicate shell. You shiver, and in realising he is holding you to his chest, your heartbeat ricochets—blood rushes to the surface of your skin, heat slipping in the cracks between capillaries, and when his fingers dig deeper into your hip you know he can sense it.

“Yeah—I’m alright. Nobody followed me,” you reply, making no effort to extract yourself from him. “Give me some warning next time. Fucking hell”.

He kisses your temple in lieu of an apology.

Choso is deathly cold. You can feel it under his simple, loose clothing. Today he’s wearing a t-shirt with a low collar and dark jeans, fitted around his thighs and his ankles, paired with laced up heavy duty boots. Unfairly handsome. You know well enough that the absence of warmth has nothing to do with his lack of layers. And despite that absence, you burrow closer as though he were a hearth.

Choso tenses beneath your casual affection, hands intermittently flexing before he ultimately decides to keep you close while guiding you deeper into the building. This was not your usual meeting place. From what you can discern it is just another izakaya—or at the very least, it’s masquerading as one. The waitstaff doesn't so much as bat an eyelid at Choso as he whisks you through the main seating area to the few private rooms in the back.

“Are you sure it’s safe to do it here?”

There’s little detail about the small space but it is cosy. You’re pliant as you allow him to usher you in and recline you into the plush couch cushions. “Yes. We won’t be disturbed,” he says, tone needlessly quiet.

The air around you feels unusually charged today. Trepidation prickled at your nape. You observe while he perches beside you with a darting-rabbit expression and arch your brow. Loose strands of dark hair slip forward to frame a pale face. Paler than usual, a shard of moonlight. The black markings that extend over the bridge of his nose have begun to bleed outside the lines and his irises are ivory-red, thin bands around dilated pupils.

“Choso…” you murmur with realisation. You reach to touch him and he flinches, shaking under the effort of his restraint. Your fingers snaked into his hair, a tangle of silky, black strands. The long spill of it slips through your knuckles and back over his shoulders. “Why didn’t you call me sooner?”

“There wasn’t any need,” Choso’s eyelids shutter, feline how he turns into the tender caress. “I have endured worse than this,” he replies.

“That hardly matters. You shouldn’t starve yourself. You’re shaking with it—”

Any further admonishment you might’ve had is immediately cloven to the back of your teeth as his nose bumps the heel of your hand. His lips part against your wrist and he inhales deeply. He groans. A crease forms in his brow, pinched in helpless desire.

“Not because I’m starving. Because of you,” he says. “I promised to pace myself with you but I needed…” there’s a sort of mindless drawl to his words. Lost in your scent, and in the healthy beat of your pulse. “Everything else tastes so dull in comparison”.

Arousal lances through you at the first sweep of his tongue. You press your thighs tight and he shudders, a soft whine pulled from his throat. “Choso,” you whisper.

“I’m sorry,” and you hear the true meaning behind it. It’s preemptive. It’s a warning.

Choso gives a chaste kiss to your wrist. Then his fangs are splitting open the skin there like soft fruit. His frame shuddered as he drew a deep gulp. The pain is fleeting, a sharp pierce that dwindles into muted pleasure. You slump as his larger body cages you against the cushions to suck and bite and take his fill of you.

Around you the room turns rosy, and then shadowed, and then dark. Your shallow breaths come faster and the tendrils of want curling low in your belly are stark. They thaw the ice spreading outward from your chest and keep you in a state of oscillating bliss. Choso hums, then huffs through his nose as a thin stream of blood leaks to the crook of your elbow. Tendon and sinew, you lazily watch him unlatch from the fount of your wrist to chase it with his tongue, laving a wet stripe up your forearm.

The markings on his face have receded. His lashes flutter, framing elderberry eyes. His lips are rouge, rough—rivulets have seeped into the cracks between his teeth and stained his gums red. It should scare you. Had it been anyone else it might’ve; yet you find him beautiful like this.

Though sensation is subsequently returning to your throbbing wound, the discomfort comes second to your need to have him closer. You cup the back of his head, too weak to apply any meaningful pressure, but that alone is enough for him to understand. Choso dips forward. He kisses you, wet and sticky with congealed blood. He sips at your mouth, firmly, but petal-soft as not to draw more blood.

You arch into him, trying desperately to display your enthusiasm while having none of the energy for it. Choso hums and lavishes you with a leisurely pace, licking past the seam of your lax lips before drawing back. At your plaintive whine he smiles, trailing fingertips over your chin.

You sigh as his thumb swipes the blood that is no doubt smeared across your skin, “Did you make a mess?”

“I made a mess,” he echoes fondly. Then his focus drifts to the closed door. “You should eat too”.

You follow his line of sight, remembering that there are people behind it, sharing meals of their own, none the wiser. Your head lolls against your shoulder, conceding. “Your turn to feed me,” you tell him.

His smile widens a fraction. Blood or no, the gleaming pride and self-satisfaction on his face makes Choso look eighteen and thirty six all at once while being close to neither.

“I’d love to”.

[simmerianne93]

[Simmerianne93]Conversation_poses_36_V1

 ----------

Hello everyone. I hope you are all doing well!!

I want to apologize for my absence the last few weeks. I haven't been feeling well emotionally so I took a couple of days off from even sitting down at the computer to play or do some poses, and when I was going to get back to posting what I had already planned, I got sick with a lot of fever, headaches and body aches, so I had to extend my time away. Then, a couple of days ago a close relative passed away so it hasn't been an easy few weeks.

Starting today and in the remaining days of the month I will be posting the corresponding poses for the month and if there are any posepack left to post, they will be the first ones for next month. I will also be posting in a couple of days the usual post of what is coming next month, so don't worry, I will continue posting poses as always.

However, I must warn you that next month there may be less pose packs because I will be working on the poses for October and Simblreen. I'm excited about it but it will be hard work and to have it on time, I need time haha... anyway, I hope you understand and I hope that you like what I'll bring for you all... and again I apologize for my long absence this month.

By the way, the surveys already have a result, thank you so much to everyone who was able to participate! They have been interesting results, but I'll talk about that better in the "coming soon" post.

Now... about the poses:

Lately I'm in my time of watching a lot of k-dramas and, watching one of those, I was inspired to make this package: a conversation between two characters who don't get along very well but who need to talk to solve a common issue. The poses I made are nothing like the scene that inspired me to make it haha ​​but hey, still, I think it can be quite useful for those who tell their stories through poses. I think there are never enough conversation poses and much less argument poses. So here you have one more little sequence.

This posepack comes with two versions. In this post you have Version 1 (V1), which takes place on a park bench. For this I used a 3-seat bench from the base game. And Version 2 (V2) can be downloaded here and are the same poses but adapted to work with the 3-seat Hipster Sofa from the base game.

These poses have the peculiarity that the characters' arms rest on the back of the seat, so my recommendation is to use the object with which they have been made because otherwise, there will be glitches with cuts or floats arms in some of the poses. However, it is up to each one of you how to use them.

I hope you like them and find them useful.

Stay tuned tomorrow for more poses!

----------

What is on it?

9 duo poses (made with two male rigs) + 2 all in one.

---

What do you need?

Andrew's poses player 

Teleport any sim by Scumbumbo.

Basegame 3sits basic park bench.

—

Instructions in the original post.

——

TOU

Do not claim my creations as your own.

Do not re-upload or modify my creations.

Do not make money of my creations.

Do not include my creations in Mods folders to download.

Please follow my Term Of Use.

——

Download it now here — [EARLY ACCESS until September 15th, 2024]

——————

If you want to support me:  Patreon | Ko-fi

All my poses overview: Pinterest |  Wix | Tumblr

More in-game preview pics of all my poses: Instagram

My socials: Twitter | BlueSky | Instagram | Tumblr

Lives and videos: Youtube

——————

I really hope you like them and I will say in advance: Thank you so much for using them.

@ts4-poses

--

[swagammemnon]

Caught in Honey

Prev | Chp 3

Ao3

Fiddling with the hem of your skirt, you try to ignore the nerves trying to eat at your stomach.  John reassured you that you had nothing to worry about, just a couple of idiots on leave hanging around the base. You've been there a few times; surprised John with lunch or bringing whatever he'd forgotten at your place.  Or if he had to stay late, you brought him a few creature comforts. And maybe a quickie or two.

But you've never met his teammates. They've always cleared out post-mission relatively quickly after the paperwork was done to their own little corners.  To lick their wounds or make the most of their leave. 

Or sleeping. 

So, having John’s bear paw spread out over your thigh while he drives the both of you to base for the explicit purpose of meeting them has you a bit… antsy.

“Jus’ a couple idiots, love,” John rumbles after passing the ID checkpoint, gives your thigh a reassuring squeeze.  “Nothing to worry about, hmm?”

You smile at your boyfriend, warmth spreading in your chest.  He’s almost too good to you sometimes, reads you too easily.  You splay your hand over his, letting out a tense sigh as he drives down the main thoroughfare, past the barracks and the gym. On the track, a small unit is doing laps. 

John's office and his team's private quarters are nearly on the opposite side of base, a five minute drive from the entrance.  His thumb flicks idly over your knuckles the whole time as you take in the base in springtime.  It’s quiet and easy, John’s mere presence a warm cocoon around you—though it’s possibly augmented due to your time apart.  More palpable after its absence. You don’t mind.

“Come on, love,” comes John’s deep voice as he helps you down from his truck.  You can’t help but bite your lip as he tucks your hand in the crook of his elbow like a proper gentleman.  Such cordial, old-timey displays still make heat rush to your cheeks—you don’t think you’ll ever get used to it.  You squeeze his bicep, bathing in the sensation of hard muscle beneath your fingers as you enter the small building claimed by John and his team.  He’d explained once that they are a high profile, and technically off-the-books team. So the isolation helps maintain their security.  Allows them a space to debrief, unwind, and recover in privacy while still at the beck and call of their superiors.

John takes you to the common room—a living room of sorts with several comfy lounge chairs, a couch across from a television and chest of drawers, a small dining table, and a kitchen.  You know the whole reason for your visit is to meet his teammates, his friends.  His very secret, elusive, lethal friends.  But it doesn’t stop your grip from digging into John’s bicep when you see a pair of cargo pant and boot-clad legs sprawled out in front of the couch, some noise playing on the TV.

“Oi, Johnny,” John snaps, your head tilting curiously.  John has only ever told you his teammates’ callsigns.  So “Johnny” was new.  You wonder which of the three he is.  “Show some proper manners.”

A dark mohawk pops over the back of the couch, a flash of blue before Johnny is throwing himself to his feet.  Practically jumping to stand before you and John.  You blink at the glowing smile, the stunning blue eyes set in a pretty boy face you know has charmed many a woman into his bed.  He extends a callused hand, which you take with a knowing smile.

“Apologies, lass,” he says, Scottish brogue surprising you as he brings your knuckles to his lips.  “Weren’t expecting ye till later.” John grumbles something when Johnny kisses the back of your hand, but allows the man to continue.  “It’s wonderful tae put a face to the name Cap’s been fawnin’ over.  And what a bonnie face at that.”

Oh, definitely a charmer.  A dangerous one who knows it.

“All right, paws off,” John clips, swatting Johnny’s hand from where he still holds yours.  Smirking at Johnny’s boyish charm, and John’s clear annoyance with him as you hang your free hand back around John’s arm, you say, “I don’t think I would ever associate the word ‘fawning’ with John.”

Johnny’s eyebrows quirk, playful game caught in his eyes.

“Aye, can barely go a day without moaning over how much he misses ye.  Even heard him whisper yer name in his sleep.”

You snort, even as John swipes at Johnny, who ducks the blow, dancing nimbly out of your boyfriend’s reach. Yanking you in close, John rotates slightly to put himself between you and Johnny.  The move only makes you grin wider, squeezing John’s arm even as he refuses to meet your eyes.

“Shut your yap,” John gripes, huffing, “where’re the rest o’ you shites?”

Johnny throws a wink at you before tucking his hands behind his back.  

“Ghost is sulking ‘round somewhere, Gaz went to the mess to grab some food.  Should be back any minute.”

Now those names you recognize, making Johnny = Soap by process of elimination.

Almost as if on cue, another man strolls into the common room with an armful of assorted packaged foods.  Dumping his cache on the dining table he spins, and once more you’re smacked with a ridiculously pretty face.  Not a blemish in sight, full lips, romantic eyes.  You glance at John, who smiles at you, wondering if your boyfriend likes to collect pretty men.  The newcomer slides up to you, a smooth walk that barely makes a sound.

John says your name, briefly catching your attention.  “This is Kyle, love. Gaz,” he says, nodding at the man.

“Pleasure to meet you, lovely,” he coos in a smooth, shaking your hand with a firm grip.

“Nice to meet you,” you reply, taking in the joggers and compression shirt he has on with a raised eyebrow.  He’s certainly got the body for it, tight and trim.  “When did you all get back?”

Kyle gives you an easy smile, nodding everyone over to the dining table.  You give a warm smile to John as he pulls out your chair for you, tucking you in once you’ve sat.  Johnny takes the seat to your left while John angles his chair at your right so he can sling his arm over the back of yours, knees knocking together.  Kyle sits across from you.

“Yesterday afternoon,” he says, popping open a bag of chips.  Glancing at John, your look is teasing.  He was home when you’d arrived a little before six.  He either neglected to fill out paperwork–doubtful–or set the boys on the grindstone so he could be done and home with dinner and a good pussy-eating ready for you.

John shrugs, claiming a bag of chips for the two of you.

You and the three men chat for a while.  Johnny takes a keen interest in your veterinary work and you pass around photos of some of your international research projects.  John practically preens as you excitedly explain your job and how much you love it.  Kyle is more of a rapt, quiet attention type than rapid fire questions like Johnny.  It’s tempting to ask about their jobs, and you make the mistake of asking a single question, to which you get a playful, “That’s above yer pay grade, lass.”

But still, the thought of these three men, cozy and lounging and smiling, becoming a coordinated, lethal unit has something thrilling running through your veins.  And the feeling of John only edging closer and closer to you throughout the conversation until he’s practically glued to your side does nothing to curb the buzz.

Sometime later, Kyle’s warm eyes flick behind you, nodding.

“Finally decided to join us, mate?”

John hand slithers around your nape as you turn, rumbling out, “‘bout time, Ghost.”

When your eyes land on a familiar skeleton mask, barely hiding the mountain of a man now frozen in his tracks, you barely hide your gasp. Stomach dropping out your ass.  White noise roars in your ears.

He's staring at you, blue eyes rounded and familiar brick-sized boots planted.  That fucking balaclava too.

Your voice is choked, “Simon?”

“Did you know?”

John is lent against his desk, ankles crossed at the end of his stretched out legs.  Stupid burly biceps crossed over his chest.  Blue eyes trained on you as you pace a stripe into his office rug.

“No,” he says matter-of-factly, frustratingly calm.

Your scowl only deepens as you halt and point yourself at him like a loaded gun, hands on your hips.

“You mean to tell me, when I talked about my exes, one of which was a Simon, who worked as a soldier on an army spec ops team, your teammate that you have seen and done unspeakable things with, didn’t cross your fucking mind?”

John is in no way happy with your temper, but he isn’t trying to slake it.  If he was, you’d probably drive your fist into his face, take the truck keys, and drive yourself home.  Instead, he says, in his even, rough voice, “Of course, he did,” you open your mouth to yell at him but one raise of his bushy brow has you pausing, anger simmering, “but I could name ya ‘bout three Simons I’ve met in this line o’ work.  I thought it was a coincidence, love.”

Curling your lip in a nasty snarl you’ll feel bad about later, you turn away.  “Don’t love me,” you gripe, resuming your pacing.  “Not every Simon wears a damn mask all the time.”

“You never mentioned a mask.”

You shoot him a glare, but you chew on the statement.  Simon had been… an odd end.  He’d burrowed under your skin with a disconcerting stubbornness.  Courting you like he was a fucking three-hundred year old vampire with flowers and food, showing up at your work to force you to take lunch when he knew you rarely ever did.  Waiting until the third date to ask to kiss you–a soft little thing that devolved into being pinned against your door.  Left breathless and wet as he parted with an accented goodbye.

Almost with the same old world charm John bathes you in on the daily.  You should have known.

Six-months—a soft, intimate thing that bloomed like a flower in love with the moon.  You’d shared your secrets, he’d share his (even if he never spoke of his job outside ‘it’s confidential, for your safety’ or his friends).  Cared for you.  Loved you.  Fucked you silly.  So silly that you didn’t see his fear.  Of commitment, of ‘I love you,’ of a future.  You think it had to do with his past, a fear of being a monster he wasn’t if any of his childhood vignettes were anything to go by.  And you’d tried to get him to open up, to convince him he wasn’t protecting you.. He was hurting you.  Mistrusting you in not letting you be a place he could safely change and grow.  To take risks.

It felt like you’d had to rip out your own heart when you broke up with him.

Leave him, still as a craggy peak, empty-handed and buffeted, frozen outside the last cafe you’d had lunch at together.

Simon was—is private.  Something sacred that you tore apart alone, searching for what went wrong, even as your heart bellowed rage and grief as you broke it.  You learned from it, built walls around it—him—yourself, as a result. Even if your therapist encouraged you to remain open-hearted once you’d mourned.

So, no.  Telling John about him at all, let alone the emotion and insecurity and vulnerability Simon had poured into his mask—borne to you when he took it off with you and you alone—hadn’t been a thought in your head.

Your pacing halts, your hands rubbing up and down your thighs as all the emotions you thought you’d processed, healed, forgotten come riling up at the mere sight of Simon’s skull embellished mask.  Tears prick your eyes and you want to scream as your heart pounds in your chest, lurching between anger and hurt and—

John calls your name softly, drawing your shimmering eyes towards him.  You did tell him, however, how heartbroken you were.  Ending things with Simon.  How you tried and tried to pry happiness from the man, to show him he could trust you, and ending up empty handed.

John crooks a single finger at you, and like a magnet, you go.  Lips bite swollen and throat sore, hands shaking with the sheer amplitude of feeling battering through you.  He opens his legs for you, and you automatically slot yourself between them.  Even though you stubbornly fold your arms over your chest.  You must look like a stubborn toddler, because John gives you the softest smile, enfolding your hips with his large hands to tug you closer.

“I can’t believe you’re his captain,” you grumble, trying not to unspool beneath the mindless circles his thumb traces over your ribs.  His trenchant gaze settles into yours, annoyingly soothing.  You can feel your hackles relaxing without your consent.

“What do you need?” he states with a small tilt of his chin, those eyes flicking down to your lips before trailing back up.  Damn him.

You huff, squeezing your biceps.  “I don’t know,” you whisper pathetically, frustrated with yourself.  With John.  With Simon.

John squeezes your hips, drawing you close enough to be firmly squished between his muscled thighs.  Defeated, you look at him through your lashes, frazzled pout swelling your lips.  Those encompassing hands slide up your waist, calluses catching on the fabric of your skirt, dragging it up with them.  John cocks his head, just enough so his nose brushes yours.  You can smell his aftershave—the aftershave you patted on his cheeks yourself yesterday.  It makes the frenetic part of your mind blur a little.

John’s voice drops an octave, a rhythm that fingers through your belly.  “Would you like me to decide?”  

Sinful temptation in the form of a man.  An emissary from some celestial plane—heaven or hell, you always waffle sometimes.  But always revel in the divinity this man forces upon you.

Your shoulders slump, throat baring as you whine at the offer.  He’s holding your gaze, waiting for an answer.  You already know what you want to say.  Are already set on placing your control in his hands because right now, it’s too much.  And he’s right here, a safe place to lay yourself down.  But it’s still so embarrassing, after almost nine months together, it’s still fucking embarrassing.  This delicate transition of power.

Still hugging yourself, you drop your pouting face into the crook of John’s shoulder.  Hiding your face as you nod with the smallest movement you can.

John’s answering hum has goosebumps rolling across your skin, his large hands circling your ribcage.  His lips, framed by his soft beard, press a kiss to your throat.  Deft fingers slip the broad straps of your dress off your shoulders, his warm palms following behind to rub over your skin.  Sighing, you begin to melt into John’s front, a surprised moan slipping out when he grabs your nape and squeezes.  The taut muscles protesting before they submit to the strong grip.  

His massage works its way down your neck, bullying your shoulders into relaxing, pressing into your biceps.  Hands gently pry your arms apart, thumbs circling over the tendons of your forearms.  Your fingers spasm, the release tangible.

John’s pleased groan has you pressing your forehead against his neck, stepping closer as his hands plaster over your ass.  Kneading the flesh until your knees knock and you’re bracing on his thighs.  Those tricky fingers bunch up your skirt, sweeping across the rounded globes in search of something that isn’t there.

“This for me, sweet girl?”

Your fingers bunch into his loose pant legs, legs flexing as his own fingertips dribble over the crease of your ass and thighs.  Timidly, you nod in the safety of John’s neck, sighing as he pulls your cheeks apart.

“You’re too good to me.”  He sets a kiss against the curve of your shoulder, enjoying the shiver he gets as he inches closer to your pussy.  “My good girl.”

You ignore the pulse of self-disgust in favor of sinking further into that fuzzy space inside your head.  

“You were planning on having this little pussy ruined today, weren’t you?”  That enticement has your spine shuddering with pleasure.  The click of his tongue has you wanting to sink to your knees and say yes to anything he wanted.  You know he would take good care of you.  “Wrapping those perky little tits up in such a cute dress.  Wanting a reward for how good she did, like a bratty little slut.”

Your eyes flutter, a wet moan sliding from your lips.

He gives your ass a rough squeeze, wrenching a startled yelp from you as your arm around his neck for support.

“Showing off to my mates,” his voice drops lower and you almost pull back, but he yanks you closer.  “No runnin’ darlin’,” he whispers, “You just wanted ‘em to see how good I had it.  Tease ‘em a bit with this delicious body.”

His hum of approval carves into your skin as those lethal fingers slip between your legs.  Finding warm dampness.

“Practically had ‘em drooling over ya.”  His voice turns, dark, conspiratorial, “Did ya see ‘em?”  His nose grazes across the shell of your ear.  No, you hadn’t.  Your mind had been fixated on the heat of John along your side, his possessive arm, the safety in which you’d felt enveloped.  But the picture John is painting…

You whine as a callus catches your clit, sparkling sensation through your tummy.

“They’re good boys though,” he continues, bathing his middle finger between the wet folds of your pussy.  Knuckles rubbing on your clit as the tip plays with your hole.  “Won’t go touching what’s mine.”  His nip a sting into your neck, and your body gives him a shiver.  “At least not without permission.”

Stupid, delicious man.  Your hips roll forward without your consent, a breathless sigh escaping your lips.  His mean smirk brands into your throat.  He knows—knows what the lascivious masterpiece he’s laid before you is doing, but he keeps the victory quiet.  In reward, he sinks his middle finger into your dripping pussy.  You can’t help but clench around him, welcoming him even deeper.  John breathes you in, coaxing more slick down to coat his finger.  And you just linger in the warm cloud he’s made around you.

But then he’s gone, and you’re straightening with a protest on your lips as he stands up.  So fast, you practically have to stumble back.  You can’t help the pleading swirl in your eyes, a rosy pout to your lips as John merely smiles down at you.  Using his slick knuckle to tilt your chin up.

“You gonna be good f’me?”  His other hand molds your hip, spinning the two of you in a slow dance.  Putting your back to his desk and the door to his office.

“Always,” you breathe, the fog in your mind making your blood soft.  Your desire reaching and pleading.  Supplicating.

“Fuck,” John groans, teasing a kiss with a brush of his nose to yours.  You try to follow the dance steps, chasing the promise of his kiss.  But he pulls back.  “How’d I get so lucky?  Beau’iful thing like you.”

“Please, John,” your voice quiet and round.  You drop your eyes to his lips, hands bunching in his shirt.  Your boyfriend gives in, leans down to brush a tender kiss to your lips.

“Sit on my desk f’me,” he mutters against your pleading mouth.

Reluctant to pull away, you only go with the promise of more waiting on the tips of his fingers digging into your skin.  You shimmy onto his desk, feet dangling as you perch on the edge.  John tilts his head, a fondness warming his eyes as he takes in your pretty form.  It makes butterflies flutter in your stomach—his open perusal, the undercurrent of heat.  You could be a virgin school girl for how… vulnerable he makes you feel.  But safe, protected within his space, his arms.  Laid on his desk.

“Spread ‘em,” he rumbles, eyes dropping to the V of your hips.  Without hesitation, you open your thighs, skirt slinging between them to cover the wetness still dribbling out.  You can almost feel the heat of his gaze, dragging over your pussy—a jolt of it straight to your womb when he commands, “Show me.”

You let out a shy sigh, lips parting as color rises to your cheeks.  Even as you bunch up your skirt, baring your soaked panties to his hungry gaze.  John practically growls, the black of his eyes swallowing the blue.

“Obedient today,” he praises in that syrupy voice that has slick glistening on your naked thighs.  Your pussy throbs as he steps up between your plush legs, lent over you like a predator, slow and lazy as they play with their prey.  You wouldn’t want to be anywhere else.  His heat sears into your skin as he grazes his knuckles along your cheek.

Admiring.  Affectionate.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs, canting his lips just against yours, “you know that, right darlin’?”

You shiver, nodding emphatically as you unspool like loose thread into his hands.

“Good girl.”  You jump at the hard press of his full cock against your stomach.  Still clothed—John makes no move to free himself.  “Now, wrap your arms around my neck.”

Your skirt flutters to your knees as you obey, and he follows the weight of your arms, fixing his lips against yours.  Thighs squeezing around his hips, you barely feel tangible as he kisses you sweetly.  Warm and adoring as he parts his lips, tongue running the seam of your mouth.  You’re turning into nothing but sweet, viscous honey, melting into his skin as you open beneath him.  His tongue dips into your mouth as he slides a palm up your thigh, fingers grazing over your mound.

Then his middle finger is sinking in between your folds, pressure from your clit to where the fingertip plays with your hole.  You moan softly, hips flexing, rolling yourself into his palm.  His mouth becomes more insistent, sloppy and indulgent, that finger dipping into you, swirling before pulling back out.  Your mouths part as you try to catch your breath but John plunges you back under, his other arm circling your back.  Yanking you against him as he roughly plunges his entire finger into you.

A groan slips through your nose, jaw slackening as he hooks that finger inside you and drags out.  Raking against your G-spot.  You break away, a high moan of near discomfort in your mouth as he reaches the end of his finger only to press harder.  Shooting a splitting bolt of pleasure through your pelvis and legs.  John merely recaptures your lips and presses back in, a second finger sliding alongside the first.  You’re too aroused for the stretch to even hurt.  It’s delicious, rough as he pulls in and out, making sure to press into your gummy little spot of pleasure until your thighs begin to shake. 

But it’s not enough.

Like he can read your mind—sometimes you think he can—a third finger joins, side by side and stretching.  He rotates his wrist as he scoops his fingers into you, coaxing forth more slick to pool in his palm.  He repeats the motion, twisting up your insides until you can’t kiss anymore, only moan and whine and squirm against his hand.  You’re so pretty like this, John thinks, continuing to ravage your mouth as his fingers coil up your pleasure.  Sweet little pussy dripping into his hand like the good little girl you are.

Fuck, you’re gorgeous.

And while John is arching you against him, scrambling your pretty brain, you don’t notice the door to his office opening.  John knows exactly who it is, before the burly man even steps inside.  You’re lost in your pleasure, slapping a palm against the desk as leverage as you roll your hips into his insistent fingers.  John’s eyes hook onto the other man’s, teeth baring in a satisfied grin against your cheek.

Simon stands frozen in his captain’s doorway, watching your darling, achingly familiar silhouette squirm on the desk.  His cheeks heat, blood rushing and pooling south.  John gives a rough thrust into your pussy, so your gorgeous moan bursts out—muffling the click of the door closing.  He’s brutal on each upward stroke, punching out a little staccato whine on each go.  John watches the younger man’s fingers twitch, eyes darkening as they catch on the warm flash of your bare thighs.  Split open around John’s waist.

Might as well have been the devil in John’s gleaming white smile, tucked into your shoulder.

Your captain can practically see the chub growing in his lieutenant’s pants.  He hums, deeply satisfied, dark.  It washes over your skin like a salve, your head falling back as your hips buck into John’s hand.  His eyes don’t leave his lieutenant’s.

“That feel good?” John mutters, harsh.  He yanks out his fingers, palm cracking on your soaking pussy.  You scream, short and wet, fingers scraping into John’s skin.  “Pretty pussy all wet for me.”

“John,” you moan, hole clenching on pitiful emptiness.  Curling into your man, you seek out the softness of his beard, rubbing your cheek along the newly trimmed stubble.

“So sweet,” he preens, tongue dragging along the line of your throat.  Simon’s eyes follow, mouth dry.  “Just a little kitten f’me.”

“John, please—” you yelp when he slaps your pussy again, blood pulsing tightly in your clit, hips grinding into his palm, “---please.  I need you.”

John chuckles, watching his lieutenant palm his cock, shifting on his feet like a shy school boy.

“Need me,” he echoes, taunting, “I’m here, darlin’.  I got you.”

Your breath sticks in your throat as he shoves all three fingers back inside you with one quick move.

“Oh, fuuuccckkk.”  Your voice warbles, slick dripping from your folds, smearing on John’s desk.  A permanent stain he intends to preserve.

“Mmm, good,” John praises, goosebumps prickling his skin at the filthy way you clench around him

“Fuck, baby.  Right there,” you breathe, setting your weight into the arm around his neck.  Dragging him closer.  He needs to be closer.  “Right there.”

John pulls kisses along your neck, baring his teeth before he sinks them into your shoulder.  The shudder seizes your body, shaking another moan from your lips  Eyes locked with Simon’s, John releases your skin, tonguing the throbbing flesh as he flushes his palm against your clit and curls those devil fingers inside you.

Simon fists his cock through his pants, tension limning his body as he watches the way your thighs shake.  He has to bite his cheek to muffle his moan just as you try to slide your free hand to your neglected clit.  

“Ah ah,” John chides, digging in his fingers until you’re throbbing with a nasty ache.  “No touching,” he commands.  For both his girl and his lieutenant.  You both listen too, your hand hesitating just at his wrist.  Simon’s pauses at the button of his cargo pants, gorgeous eyes crinkling with burgeoning pain.

“Good,” John praises, pouring warm honey into his deep, gravelly voice.  His teeth nibble on your earlobe, knees tightening around John’s hips in a delicious vice.  John wants nothing more than to sink to his knees and bury his face in your sloppy pussy, but that would release Simon from the spell.  Probably send him skittering back to his room like a spooked rabbit.  Shutting himself into his bathroom where he would fist his painful, angry cock and think of his Captain ramming his load into you.

No, no.  John wanted Simon to stay right where he was, cock leaking a stain into his pants as you dribbled and trembled all over his desk.

The captain grinds his own hard dick against your thigh, working his fingers to the filthy squelch between your thighs.

“Wanna bend you over this desk and fuck your little brains out,” John murmurs against your ear, fingers stilling inside you.  Only to hook on your pubic bone, pressing deep against your gummy G-spott.  He wraps your swaying curtain of curls into his fist, yanking your head back to expose the vulnerable line of your throat. “You don’t need one, huh?  You’ve got Daddy ta take care o’ ye.”  Drool falls from the corner of your mouth, tongue lolling out. His hips grind down into your thigh, shuddering at the sound of your short pants, cunt spasming around his fingers.  “Fill this pretty cunt with my cum, hmm?  Maybe let the boys see it slip down your pretty legs as we leave.  So they really know who you belong to.  That sound good, swee’art?”

Your lids are split the barest millimeter, mouth slack and John aches to feed you his cock.  Watch you choke a little as he bottoms out, nose buried in the dark hair there.  And you can see that voracious hunger in his eyes as he leans back to smile down at you.  Tomcat with his meal.  What a pretty picture you make.  John’s smirk is blended with adoration, but there’s an edge of tartarean cruelty that has your bones jittering with excitement. He cuts the picture of a dark god preparing to play with his sacrifice.  And you willingly lay yourself at his altar—spreading your legs wider, yanking your dress up over your full breasts, and tempting him with a pretty, “Please.”

John sees his lieutenant’s mouth fall open beneath his mask at the sound of your plea.  Another supplicant eager to even come near the altar.  A lesser god maybe, with a dearth of beautiful sacrifices and now longs to touch the work of art so, so close.  His gaze scrapes over your creamy breasts, bouncing with your breath.

He snatches one in his palm, squeezing like a brute, tugging it into his mouth when he leans down.  What he wouldn’t give to see these tits swollen and leaking.  Your tummy rounded and heavy with his kids.  He lets his cloying desire burn in his eyes as he flicks them back to Simon, tongue dragging over your nipple.  His lieutenant’s knuckles are white.  John can see the precum stain from here.

“Fuck,” John groans, shoulders slumping as he tugs your hair, baring more of your tantilizing throat.  His mouth pouncing on the new flesh.  “Aren’t you a beautiful slut?”

Your eyes close fully, letting the warmth wash over you and John steps back into your body.

Simon dares a step closer, catching his captain’s liquid gaze as he stuffs his fingers back into you.  You moan, slipping your hand into his shaggy hair. Your hips roll, his thumb pressing into your clit in some twisted act of mercy.  Pleasure coils once more behind your navel, wringing out cute little whimpers that make Simon’s cock twitch his pants.  The lieutenant’s tongue is heavy, lips chapped.  His eyes are glued to your writhing silhouette, images of you and his captain in even filthier positions.

This is the bird he’s been shacking up with these past months?  The one who’s turned his captain soft and loving, domestic? The one who has him bolting from base as soon as they touch down on the tarmac?  The one Simon has been endlessly pining over like a miserable lech ever since you ended your relationship last year?  

Simon can’t even bring himself to be pissed.

Not when your whines turn high and constant, following the beckon of John’s fingers, your cunt twitching as your orgasm teeters on the ledge.  Not when John mouths the soft curve of your freckled shoulder.

“That’s it,” John coos, looking back to his lieutenant as his own hips grind along your leg.  “That’s it, darlin’.”

Simon’s hand twitches towards his dick, desperate to grip it, to fuck his hand to the real sight of you for the first time in nearly a year instead of just the memory.  But John tsks, a jolt traveling down both your and Simon’s spines at the demanding tone.  Simon’s hand hesitates, but you get harsher thrusts, a concentrated massage of your clit and G-spot that has you bucking.  Whining and yanking on his hair as your ankles lock at the small of his back.

“Fuck, John,” you groan, “just like that.  Just like that.”  You’re nearly sobbing, care for your volume gone out the window.

“I got you, lovie. Can feel your cunt twitching.”  John presses a possessive kiss to your temple, grinning as Simon soundlessly groans, his neglected cock hanging heavy and abandoned in his pants.  “Cum on my fingers, sweet thing, cum for me.”

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” you beg, ass clenching as your legs tremble.  Simon’s hips buck.  “Right there, baby, right there.  Right there.  Right there.”

John’s mouth parts just as he feels you tip over the edge.  Balls tightening as your walls clamp down on his hand, imagining your pussy choking his cock.  You come with an aborted cry, slick gushing down John’s fingers, dripping onto his forearm.  One last tight grind against your thigh, taste spread over his tongue, he paints the inside of his briefs with a rumbling moan.

And poor Simon is left blue-balled by the door like a kicked pup.  Fucking deserves it, moping around base and acting no more than a pitiful mutt ever since you’d kicked him to the curb.  Nearly endangering the team those first few missions after you’d broken his heart.  John’s hand uncurls from your hair, splaying across the expanse of your bare shoulders, the smooth lines of your upper back as you pant through the aftershocks.

Precious little thing.

His lieutenant doesn’t deserve to see how soft you are for John as you come down.  Not after how he fumbled you.  So he jerks his chin at the door, effectively dismissing his subordinate.  He sees Simon’s eyes round, indignant, surprised.  But John merely raises a challenging brow, rubbing your spine as your forehead drops onto his shoulder.

“Good girl,” he murmurs, staring his lieutenant down until the younger man slips out of his office with an obvious tent in his cargo pants.  As soon as the door snicks shut, John gathers you into his arms—limp, shaky body warm and pliant in his arms.  He sits back into his office chair, pooling you across his lap with quiet coos and praises.

Petting your wild curls, John closes his eyes, soaking in your aftershocks.

Tracking you down all those months ago was the best thing he’d ever decided to do.

[peko-peko-pekun]

hello to my 7 followers. its been a while. i would like to apologize for my extended absence in which can be blamed on this stupid fucking game that plagues my every waking moment. its a small indie game , you may not have heard of it, very underground, called STARDEW VALLEY. boy, do i have a bone to pick with this game. i have 173 hours in it and i've only played for like two months. fuck this game.

anywway, here's my fanart for it. haley and alex

...and more alex. because i am normal about him i am nor mal i am normal i am normal ai man rofrml a nfafmcxm,m,awrg(h e is the only thing i have draw nfor the past month)

I'm also getting into traditional art . but like really casually ( if you couldnt tell) (sry the images r kinda ass) (im also not really good at drawing humands but im working on it :thumbsup:) i also did some other sketches of haley when i was trying to figure out how to draw her

alex...,...,.,.

[samiiy20]

♡ 𝑭𝒆𝒍𝒊𝒙 (𝒇𝒕. 𝑯𝒚𝒖𝒏𝒋𝒊𝒏) ♡

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: Lee Felix x fem!reader x Hyunjin 𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: Smut 𝑊𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 3.5k 𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: Threesome, unprotected sex, a bit of degradation, oral sex (f), fingering, eating cum, a little interaction between both boys, masturbation, voyeurism. 𝑆𝑦𝑛𝑜𝑝𝑠𝑖𝑠: Things get out of hand while you and your boyfriend are watching a movie, but someone else joins in on the action.

n/a: I apologize for the blockade, I will try to be more active, I hope you enjoy this. Maybe I'll make some modifications to it later.

masterlist II tag list

This content NOT is for minors!!!

This is merely entertainment, this does not represent any real person.

It is forbidden to copy or translate my work.

English NO is my first language.

You always took advantage of the weekends to spend time with your boyfriend, between university, work, homework and projects, they were the only days where you felt like you could relax. You never turned down his invitations to hang out holding hands or go somewhere to eat or have fun, but today you just wanted to rest.

"What do you want to do today?" Felix asked hugging you.

"I don't know" you buried your head in the pillow "I feel like I could die."

"ohh my baby has been working hard all week right?" you nodded accepting his cuddles on your head and his kisses on your forehead "do you want to sleep?" without using your voice you brought your body closer to his.

"But stay with me" You heard a giggle from him but he didn't protest and put his hands on your waist while he said nice things to you and you fell into a deep sleep.

You didn't know how much time passed since you fell asleep, but Felix's absence forced you to get up to look for him. The house was dark but you could hear the sound of the TV in the distance. When you arrived you saw your boyfriend and his roomie. Hyunjin saw you and raised his hand in greeting.

"Hii" the greeting made Felix turn in your direction.

"I…"

"come honey" Felix extended his hand and still a little sleepy you went to where he was, he took you by the waist and sat you on his lap "sorry for leaving you" he said in your ear, holding his hands to your abdomen. You leaned your body over his chest placing your head on his shoulder and gave him a kiss on the neck.

"shhh don't interrupt others."

The truth was that you did not understand anything about the movie and sleep began to take over you again, Felix's caresses on your bare legs did not help. You tried to close your eyes but you concentrated on his fingers fluttering over your skin and although you could start something with Hyunjin present, you resisted doing it, but… a caress went unnoticed, right?

You moved a little on his crotch to “” accommodate ”” thinking that he wouldn't notice either, but his caresses on your skin went up a little until entering under the blouse you were wearing.

The contact between the two was very discreet, slow and torturous, having only a little. Your boyfriend's hands were already under your clothes but they didn't move at all and it only made you desperate, your hips were eager to start moving but you remembered that you were not alone and the only thing you could do was resist the temptation.

Hyunjin was not stupid, he knew that since you arrived you had started to play a little, he could hear how the fabric of his clothes moved and how the sofa began to creak a little more. He didn't say anything because he knew they wouldn't start anything with the present… or it was just the fact of wanting to discover where they could go, but that made him a pervert so he only thought of the first option.

Felix knew you and knew from the way you were moving that you wanted more, he was aware of how your hands were getting dangerously close to his thighs, how your head turned to put your lips on his neck and how his cock began to harden.

Somewhere in your head you forgot everything and just focused on your boyfriend's cock pressing on your butt, on his hands trying to climb your breasts but stopping to think better of it. Your gaze was focused on Hyunjin and since he was the only one concentrating on the movie, so you took Felix's hands and held them. you forced them to go up where they wanted.

"you know what you do?" Felix's voice was barely a whisper, but you managed to hear it perfectly "you're playing with fire" you ignored his words and moved more looking for friction on his hardened member "are you sure you want to burn?"

The tone in his deep voice was different from when he sang praises in your name, this time it was firm and with a slight hint of warning, but you kept ignoring him, he was not the type of man who would risk someone seeing them, much less in such a compromising situation with his friend nearby.

You felt free to lick his neck trying to provoke him, but the sudden grip on your breasts surprised you, causing you to let out a slight moan that you immediately suppressed.

Hyunjin seemed unaware of the situation but in reality he could see everything through the screen and he tried to look away ignoring that his cock was screaming for him to be touched, but where was he supposed to look, any movement and they could find out.

Although Felix wasn't used to being in these kinds of situations, the truth was that he was enjoying it, feeling how his girlfriend was grinding his cock while his friend pretended not to notice when he was really just as needy. All because of you, maybe he thought you deserved a punishment. Your boyfriend didn't seem to want to stop and he pushed his way through your pants to touch you.

"What are you doing?" you whispered trying to close your legs while you saw Hyunjin scared.

"Isn't this what you wanted?" His voice was no longer so low but you tried to convince yourself that his friend wasn't listening.

"Yea, but…"

"Then shut your mouth" Your boyfriend's new posture provoked your core and you wanted to see more of her, but you were afraid that Hyunjin could turn around at any moment, even so, with fear in your gut you spread your legs to give him space to Felix's caresses.

Hyunjin couldn't focus her attention on anything other than the slight sighs you let out trying in vain to remain silent. He was cursing Felix over and over again for doing this to him but he really didn't want to admit how much he was enjoying the show.

No one thought Felix was evil, but he really wanted to see how much you and Hyunjin could take. He had heard him masturbating several times and that was normal, he did it too, although he wondered if he had heard correctly when he heard him say your name.

Your boyfriend's hands did not stop moving in your center and when he found your clit he smiled pressing it a little hard causing you to squirm in his arms while I watched as Hyunjin took a breath with his gaze lost on the screen.

Felix's fingers played with your folds and his mouth had moved closer to your neck, leaving a trail of kisses and bruises behind him. All the time you had bitten your lips trying not to make a noise, they were swollen but you couldn't feel the pain anymore, you only had the taste of your own blood but when your boyfriend started moving his fingers near your entrance you didn't know if you could continue like this

Hyunjin would go crazy if he didn't stick his hand down his pants right now and fuck himself, even though his head was screaming for him to look at the scene behind him, the truth was that he could see a little if he moved his eyes, but he wanted the full view. He wanted to see how you stuck to Felix's body and see your legs open showing your beautiful wet pussy while your mouth let out desperate sighs. He blinked hard trying to dispel those thoughts from his mind, you were his friend's girlfriend, he couldn't think of you that way.

Your gaze was straight ahead, but the images on the TV passed you by and you decided to look at Hyunjin, he seemed calm and collected as if he wasn't listening to anything, but you could feel his ragged breathing and clenched jaw, his fisted hands resting on his chest lap very close to her noticeable bulge. He knew it, but you wondered why he didn't move, he could have gotten angry and left or just left, he could have complained to them from the beginning but no, there he was totally still, pretending not to hear how Felix's fingers played with your entrance.

You held onto your boyfriend's hands and every second it was hard for you to breathe calmly, you had lost your mind and now you didn't care to sigh harder, Felix had played a lot with you and his fingers slowly pumping inside you made your legs tremble, you could taste the orgasm after a few strokes, but then it stopped.

"Honey, I told you not to make noise" his voice took on a calm tone but he said it loud enough to be heard in the whole room "look how you have our poor friend, right Hyunjin?"

Hyunjin finally dared to turn around and immediately regretted it when he saw Felix's smile, his hand was still inside your pants but he could see the moisture in them, your head was resting on his shoulder and your chest was rising and falling showing the bruises on your neck.

"Felix, I… I didn't know what to do…" he thought about the words on his tongue but forced himself to say something more coherent "I didn't… I didn't want to" without saying anything your boyfriend let out a dry laugh and deprived you from the touch of his fingers, but he did not remove you from his body. It was fun to see how Hyunjin tried to think of something other than you, he found it funny how he forced himself to look at his face every time his eyes strayed to your body.

You felt embarrassed by the situation you started that you could only hide your face in your boyfriend's neck, but one of his hands took your face and forced you to look at the other.

"You have more in common than you think" his lips touched your ear and you felt his teeth dig into your flesh. You didn't want to move a bit and you didn't want to see him, the only thing left was to look at the other boy with a little fear trying to think of what he was saying "they are both cute, they talk when they sleep, they like coffee…" Felix's hands caressed your head caressing your hair but unlike other times a shiver ran through you "and they both think I'm an idiot."

Hyunjin finally looked at you trying to speak in silence, trying to decipher the words of his friend, but there was no need for them to guess, if he knew then it was only for one thing. Fear shook your body and you finally sat up, turning your head, afraid to speak.

"What are you talking about?" Hyunjin's voice had trembled a bit, but if he didn't notice…

"Hahahahaha please, do you think I don't realize how they look at each other?" They looked at each other for a second and paid attention to his words "they ogle, you" he pointed at Hyunjin without smiling "you should be quieter when you masturbate, or at least try to moan my girlfriend's name more softly" Hyunjin's face had lost color and he felt an emptiness in his chest, he lowered his head without being able to look at either of them, but Felix continued smiling "and you love" he took a handful of your hair approaching your lips "You should say his lower name when you dream of him."

The room fell silent, the tension rising and choking them both, but Felix was the one to continue.

"But… I'm not mad" they dared to look at him again "actually… I wouldn't mind sharing you" they were both confused and wanted to ask him a million questions, but before they could say anything he went ahead "do you still want to follow, right?" His hand touched your center above the clothes and you let out a surprised moan "and you sure want to see, but why don't you help me?"

Hyunjin thought that Felix had gone crazy, but he was insane to nod without thinking.

"Are you ready, love? You will finally have what you dreamed of."

You didn't know if he was making fun of you or if he meant it, but with your mind still confused and cloudy you just nodded.

Felix wasn't angry, he meant it. In fact, if someone had to feel bad here, it was him, because he not only masturbated thinking about both together and not only dreamed of both, but he pretended not to, when in reality he was more than excited to have them in the palm of his hand .

"Come here Hyunjin" the aforementioned obeyed without thinking, but he didn't know what to do. He heard a laugh from his friend and thought she was just playing with him "kiss her"

His gaze went from your eyes to your lips and behind you, where Felix was sitting comfortably. Your eyes were fixed on his movements but the curiosity to try his lips was stronger than you thought when you took his shirt a bit desperately and brought him closer joining his mouths. At first no one made any move and you didn't know who was the one who took the initiative, but now his lips moved desperately and tried to prove everything.

Hyunjin had only gotten a little carried away at first, but when he heard you moan into his mouth because his friend's hands had squeezed your thighs, he didn't even think about it and he raised his hands to your breasts, massaging them over the fabric, but he was also lost in the sensation of your fingers in his hair and how you held him a little tight looking for more closeness.

You didn't want to think about the pressure on your chest from kissing another man like this, but your mind was still remembering your boyfriend's words “I'm not angry”. Hyunjin's kisses made you forget everything and you only concentrated on his tongue playing with yours. He pulled away for a moment to take a breath and looked at you ignoring the eyes of the man behind you and he joined your neck leaving new marks.

You let your neck rest on your boyfriend's shoulder to give his friend more space, Felix would not admit that he enjoyed the sight of someone else's mouth making you moan, of how his hands sought to caress all your skin but that your hands scratch their thighs. Hyunjin had been kneeling with his mouth at the beginning of your pants and his hands on your legs.

"Continue" Felix suggested taking off your shirt and releasing your breasts leaving Hyunjin's mouth open "pretty aren't they?"

You dared to look at Hyunjin and as he gazed at your breasts, his mouth opened just to get closer and taste them. His tongue turned over your nipples and his teeth were marked on your sensitive skin making you moan.

Felix didn't let Hyunjin do everything, his hands had hooked on your dressed center causing you to start begging.

"Lix…"

"What's up love?" His fingers kept moving knowing what you wanted, but he would see to it that you had something better.

He unbuttoned your pants and Hyunjin separated a little when he noticed it to have a good view of what he had imagined. Your wet pussy was left in the air and you heard how both boys let out an anxious sigh. Felix ran his fingers over it spreading your juices through the folds.

Hyunjin felt his cock throb and you could feel it through his pants, you got closer to feel his lips extending your hand to his bulge leaving your ass exposed for a moment to your boyfriend. You stayed sitting on Hyunjin's lap moving his hips leaving your juices on his clothes while you tried to calm down. Felix joined the ground getting behind to kiss your neck and give Hyunjin's body a slight push so that he was lying down.

"What do you want, pretty boy?" Felix's voice asked over your shoulder to see the other's face. "Your cock in his pussy or your mouth in his?"

Hyunjin's head was struggling, but the movements of your hip did not allow him to think clearly and although he wanted to appease the pain in his crotch, if this was the only opportunity he would have, he would like your taste to stay in his mind. .

"I want to have her in my mouth."

Felix's breath tickled your neck but you managed to hear a laugh as he cupped your hips.

"What do you say love? Do you want?" Although you didn't say it, the way you moved betrayed your desire for his lips to kiss you. You had dreamed of this and you were not going to miss the opportunity, but you were a little afraid.

Your knees were on each side of Hyunjin's head and although you were very close to doing so, you stopped looking at him.

"Are you sure? What if…I crush you?" Hyunjin gave you a smile and took your hips drawing you closer to his face.

"It will be a pleasure. "

Her head rose looking for her fate and when you felt her tongue pass through your folds you moaned in response forgetting everything you said. Her mouth was kissing every part of you and her tongue was searching for your clit.

Felix could feel the pre-cum staining his pants. The image from behind was a spectacle for his eyes. Hyunjin's hands dig into your skin, your body bent leaving your entire ass in view of him, his friend's tongue playing in circles with your clit and your entrance clenching to nothing. He had to do something if he didn't want to cum right there just watching.

Without much thought, he placed himself where you had been before and for a moment Hyunjin was surprised to feel another weight on his lap, but he didn't complain and continued with his thing. Felix could feel the pressure of Hyunjin's cock but he found himself moving a little on top of him, maybe it was just the desperation of the moment he thought. You felt Hyunjin's movements stop for a moment as he tried not to think about his friend on his lap, he knew he was as hard as he was and he wanted to help him a bit, after all he was lending him his girlfriend to fulfill his fantasies. One of Hyunjin's hands ended up on one of Felix's thighs with a little fear of his reaction but when he felt how he took it to put it on the cock dressed as he sighed trying to continue with you.

Hyunjin's mouth was already starting to make you lose your mind but when some familiar fingers started playing at your entrance you felt your thighs try to close, but you forced them to keep them open. Two of Felix's digits plunged inside you making you moan his name, he wasted no time and started pumping making you scratch the floor trying to focus on something else to hold on, but Hyunjin's tongue on your clit didn't help either, you were Lost and they both knew it.

Felix could feel how your walls were squeezing his fingers and Hyunjin could feel your thighs getting closer to his face but no one seemed to care, they wanted to take you to the end. You moaned loudly while you felt like with each lick and thrust you lost your mind, you let yourself be carried away by the pleasure that ran through your body and you released yourself in Hyunjin's mouth, which he gladly received.

You took a breath trying to catch your breath, your boyfriend's fingers coming out of you made you squirm and Hyunjin cleaning your juices made you sigh. You felt a little bad for both of you, you had only been thinking about yourself and they were still hard, but the truth was that a few moments ago they had already reached their climax.

You turned and saw your boyfriend move quickly to the ground. Hyunjin spread his hands out breathing heavily and you smiled at the mess they had made.

"Second round?" you asked moving closer to Felix to kiss him.

"I don't think he can stand it," he said, pointing to the man who was getting up.

"Are you dare me?"

The three of them laughed as Hyunjin handed you a blanket to cover your body.

"Then let's go to the room."

You got up purposely letting the blanket slide down your body only to pick it up again while showing your used pussy to the guys knowing they would follow you at any moment.

[mackenzielovee]

letters to you: graduation day - rafe cameron

summary: you think you know him too well. he surprises you yet again.

warnings: swearing, alcohol consumption, intoxication

wc: 3.4k

a/n: hi hello happy sunday <3 i've had this in the drafts for so long and have yet to post it so i hope you guys like it. eeeeek. i've missed them. please leave me some love! reblogs are very appreciated!

series masterlist

     The shot Emma holds out in front of you seems to be the only thing promising to dull the ache in your chest. It’s graduation day; specifically, morning, and you’re already dressed, makeup on, hair done. Ethan lounges against the countertop with his own shot glass, and Christian stands directly beside him with one as well. You accept the shot and cheer with the group, plastering a smile on your face for their sakes as you down it. 

UNC, in all their great wisdom, scheduled your graduation on a Thursday. Rafe, ever so apologetic and regretful, couldn’t take two full days from work, given that May is their busiest time of the year. He’d promised to watch the livestream, to call you every hour before you go and every hour after, and apologized profusely over multiple days. You’d told him it was okay; that it wasn’t even that big of a deal and you were going to be busy anyway. 

That, you realize, was a lie. You want him here more than anything in the world; to see you in your white dress that you’d agonized over and watch you walk across that stage to receive the thing you’ve worked toward for the last four years. 

Emma nudges you with her elbow, drawing you out of your silent pity party. You give her a forced smile, then hold your shot glass out for her to refill. 

“Nope,” she mutters, “You’re a lightweight. Can’t have you falling over on that stage.”

“Em,” you press, “He’s not here. Give me another.”

You say it quietly, keeping it from Ethan and Christian. When they had come in, surprised not to see Rafe, they gave you the look. The one that silently questions if the two of you were through, and that’s why he’s not here. Quickly, you’d defended Rafe’s absence and they’d accepted the reasoning, but their expressions still hold up in your head. 

“Y/N, maybe–”

“Emma,” you groan, “I swear–”

“Fine,” she shrugs, “Fine. I’ll just laugh when you fall.”

You smile and shake your head at her, downing the shot quickly. You watch as Emma checks her phone, firing off two texts and locking it before you can strain your neck to see who she’s texting. Ethan’s here, so is Chris, and so are you. 

“Who–”

“Caroline,” she says quickly, shoving her phone away, “She wants to meet up for drinks later.”

You swallow, “Oh. That will be fun.”

Fun for Emma. Not for you. Caroline hadn’t so much as looked your way ever since she hit on Rafe and he couldn’t have acted less interested, and suddenly, the invitation she used to extend out to you seemed to disappear. Not that you minded, but the thought of Emma going out tonight and leaving you here alone makes your chest grow even heavier. 

“Y/N…” she trails off, obviously not sure what to say. 

“Em, it’s fine. It’s graduation day. You deserve to celebrate,” you give her a smile that almost feels genuine, “We all do.”

She just nods slowly, her eyes wide with an emotion you can’t seem to place. Ethan steps over to her before you two can discuss it any further, and when Christian calls out for your attention, you give it to him.

Just as you grow comfortable in your conversation with him, being drunk enough to ramble without thinking much about what you’re saying, there’s a knock at your front door. You look over at Emma and furrow your eyebrows, but she just shrugs and points to it. 

“You get it,” she says, pulling Ethan closer to her. 

“Why should I get it?” you argue, blinking rapidly when you notice how unsteady you are. 

“Shit, Y/N, I told you not to drink–”

The knock sounds again, and more so out of irritation for the consistent knocking than curiosity about who it is, you rush to the door. You grab the wall for support, yanking on the door handle. Ready to tell off whoever is on the other side, you feel your knees buckle when you see him.

The sight of Rafe Cameron in a dress shirt and tie, holding a bouquet of peonies and sporting a wide grin is enough to bring tears to your eyes.

He chuckles as he takes you in, but barely has time to step forward before you dive onto him. Your legs hook around his waist and he grabs ahold of you instinctually, gripping your waist like his life depends on it. 

“Honey–” he starts, but you stop him when you start to cry into his neck.

“You said—” you practically whine, “You said you couldn’t make it.”

He laughs, shifting his head so he can press a kiss to your now wet cheek. 

“You didn’t really think I’d miss your graduation, did you?” 

Your response is only to let out a cry against his neck, squirming deeper into him. Wanting to feel every inch to ensure he’s real, he’s here, and he’s yours. 

You hear Emma giggle from the doorway, but you ignore her. After a minute, Rafe gently sets you down and lets you get your bearings before pulling you into him by your waist, letting your hands link around his neck. 

“You okay?” he asks, smirk threatening his lips. 

You nod, “I just– I–”

Rafe’s eyebrows furrow, and when he steals a suspecting glance at Emma, she speaks. 

“She’s a little drunk,” Emma murmurs. 

Rafe laughs, “Is that true, honey?”

“No,” you defend, your body heating up, “I just missed my boyfriend.”

Rafe laughs again, and you swear the sound makes your heart beat faster. He leans down and kisses the top of your head twice, making you smile. 

“He missed you, too,” he says quietly, “Let’s go inside.”

Emma takes the flowers from Rafe’s hand and hurries off to the kitchen to put them in a vase while you cling to Rafe’s side, unwilling and unable to peel away. He just laughs and rubs your back, letting you do whatever it is you need to. 

He greets Ethan and Christian in the kitchen, making small talk with them while glancing down at you every few seconds. When you rest your chin on his sternum and smile up at him, he chuckles and leans down to give you a kiss. 

“Too short,” you complain when he pulls back. 

He smiles, “I’m gonna make you some coffee, okay?”

You just nod, letting him guide you to the coffee maker on the opposite counter. While he pours the coffee grounds in, you pull yourself up on the counter and watch him as he works. Once the machine starts to whir, he steps over to you, settling between your legs. 

“Can’t believe you’re here,” you whisper, your nails scratching the back of his neck.

“Can’t believe you’re drunk,” he counters, “I’m sorry you thought I wasn’t coming. I wanted it to be a surprise.”

“You certainly surprised me,” you mumble, pulling him closer by his collar, “Kiss me?”

“Mhm,” he hums. 

His lips meet yours and you feel calmer, you feel like you’re home. His hands rest on the tops of your thighs and he laughs into your mouth when you pull him in further and further, until you’re visibly ready to undress him in the middle of the kitchen. 

“Y/N, damn!” Emma teases. 

You giggle and drop your grip on him, but you don’t look away. You’re too lost in the sea of blue and in the alcohol coursing through your veins. Rafe grins and pecks your lips one more time, then steps away to get your coffee. 

Emma, Ethan, and Christian leave the two of you alone — much to Emma’s demand, you’re sure — and head into the living room.Rafe glances between you and the coffee every few seconds, and when he watches you happily swinging your feet and getting lost in your own head as you think about him being here. 

“I brought you a present,” Rafe says quietly, carrying over a mug full of coffee with the perfect amount of cream mixed in for you. 

Your eyes widen, “A present?”

He laughs as you take the mug from him and sip. 

“Yes, honey, a present,” he smiles, “Do you want it now, or—”

“Yes!”

He chuckles, “Wait here.”

You grin and clutch your mug tightly while he steps over to his bag, which was happily abandoned in the doorway of your apartment when you pulled him inside. He pulls out a present wrapped in brown paper, with a black bow tied around it in string. You smile; the wrapping itself reminds you so much of Rafe already. 

When he returns to his spot in front of you, he takes his time examining your face. Your drunken – but sobering — eyes, your tipsy smile, and the ever so little scrunch in your nose. 

“I hope you like it,” he says, holding up the wrapped present. “There’s a letter, too, but I’m gonna wait ‘til you’ve sobered up to give you that.”

“Rafe,” you pout, wanting the letter more than anything. 

In response, he pushes the present closer, “Open.”

You do as he instructs and tug on the loosely tied bow, watching it fall apart in your hands. Rafe scoffs at your slow speed, which makes you look up at him and giggle. 

“I love your wrapping,” you giggle. 

“Thank you, slowpoke,” he rolls his eyes playfully. 

You tear the paper bit by bit, pulling it back until you recognize exactly what is in the package. 

“Your copy of Pride and Prejudice?”

It’s worn; the right corner of the cover is creased, and you remember how you drew a tiny R on the left side with a heart. You pull it from the wrapping completely as he hums, feeling your heart ache in your chest at the sight of the book that brought the two of you together. 

“Yeah, I, uh, I reread it. And I wrote little notes underneath my old ones for you. I wanted to show you how having you in my life has changed my perspective. On everything.”

Your eyes well up with tears the moment you process his words, and it’s as if the shots melt away. A perfect pout forms on your lips as you open it and flip through, finding his old notes that you recognize, along with new ones in a different colored pen. 

“Oh, my God,” you whisper, “Rafe, this is such a great present. I can’t wait to read it all. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

He grins when you pull him in by his tie and begin to press kisses onto his cheeks and jawline. You set the book down on the counter so you can feel him with both hands, silently letting him know that he’s going to have to be the one to stop you — and only if he wants. 

“Hey,” he murmurs, guiding you back with a gentle hand on your cheek so he can look you in the eye, “I hope you understand that I mean that. I was a completely different person before you. When you came into my life, with your adjectives and your books and your perfect little pout, I knew I was completely and totally screwed. I love you, and I’m so proud of you.”

“Rafe,” you whine, and when a tear slips, he brushes it away immediately, “Thank you. I love you so much.”

“I hope so,” he replies smugly, then presses a kiss to your forehead, “Drink your coffee.”

You do as instructed and pick the mug back up, smiling when the book catches your eye. It’s the perfect present to represent your relationship with Rafe; how the two of you started, where you are now, and everything in between. 

“If I finish the mug, can I have my letter?” you ask, adding your pout before saying, “Pretty please?”

You watch as he visibly caves. His shoulders fall and his eyes narrow slightly, but he nods. 

“Yes,” he sighs. 

“Thank you,” you grin and take a long sip, proving to him that you’re dedicated. 

He stands with you as you drink your coffee, and the buzz that took only a few minutes to gain, takes only a few sips of coffee to lose. 

The second you show him your empty mug and raise your brow suggestively, his chest deflates with an exhale, and he steps back over to his bag. 

You steal a few kisses from him as the letter exchanges hands, and when you finally hold it in your grasp, he swallows. 

“I’m gonna step out,” he nods toward the back door, pulling the cigarettes from his pocket, “Take your time.”

You attempt to speak, to ask him about it, but he kisses you again and steps away before you can get your thoughts in order. Only when you hear Emma erupt in cheers as Rafe steps through the living room do you flip the envelope over and pull the pages from it. 

Y/N,

My girl. My honey. 

I am so beyond proud of you. Today and every day. I can’t even believe that we’ve been together long enough to have reached this point. I mean, I can, but in a larger sense, I can’t. Do you know what this means, though? Selfishly, I keep reminding myself that this means you’re one step closer to moving in with me. I know that’s not what’s on your mind right now, but it’s the only thing on mine. We’ve done our version of long distance for long enough. I want you all to myself, every day, forever. 

That being said, I’ve been thinking about what’s going to happen beyond the summer. How am I supposed to have you, and then let you go again? 

I’ve decided that I’m not willing to do that. That as much as I love you, and as much as I want to be with you in any capacity that I can, I want to see your smile every day. I want to hear your laugh, and feel your kisses, and end every single day with you in my bed. Our bed. 

So, here’s my proposal. You can say no. But, I pray that you don’t, because I don’t know if I’d be able to handle it. I want to go to grad school with you. Wherever you go, I want to move with you. I’ll find another job, I’ll do whatever I have to do. I want to be there for you when you study for big tests or have a shitty day or hate your professor. I want all of it. Will you let me come with you? I’ll grovel as much as you want. 

Anyway, this letter is supposed to be about you. Everything you’ve accomplished. You’re going to do amazing things in this world. You’ve already done amazing things to my world. I could not be prouder of you than I am. All of that work and stress is finally paying off, honey, and that’s all anyone can ask for. I can’t wait to see you walk across that stage and get your diploma. Thank you for letting me be a part of it. 

I love you so much. I could not be more grateful to have you in my life. You’re so beautiful. Come find me. I’m sure I need a kiss from you. 

Yours forever, 

Rafe 

Tears are pouring from your eyes before you even register their presence. For a while, you’ve known how much Rafe loves you. For a while, you’ve known that he is excited to have you moving in with him. However, this letter seems to solidify all of it to you. 

Without even giving it a second thought, you hop off of the counter and head out of the kitchen, only to be met with the three tipsy souls in the living room. 

Emma’s eyes immediately grow with concern when she sees your state, but then, her eyes fall to the letter. Immediately, she softens and smiles, then nods her head toward the balcony. 

“Rafe Cameron seemed anxious,” she murmurs, “Go get him.”

You smile and nod your head. Ethan catches your eye as he blatantly looks between the two of you, dumbfounded. 

“I never know what the fuck is going on around here,” he grunts. 

“That’s okay, sweetie,” Emma replies in a condescending voice, “At least you’re pretty.”

You laugh and then step away from them, toward the sliding door. You take a moment to observe him before you open it. His tense back, his hair — that you notice is freshly cut for the occasion — and the cigarette that rests between his fingers, looking only about halfway through, which is slow for him. 

You try to push the door open quietly, but he turns around, anyway. When he sees you, with the water under your eyes and your fingers still clutching the letter, he gives you a soft smile. He opens his mouth, and somehow, you know it’s to backtrack. To offer you a way out before you commit. You shake your head, which silences him. 

“Yes,” you blurt, “Yes, yes, yes. Come with me. I want you there.”

He lets out a relieved breath, and the grin that spreads across his face makes your heart skip a beat or two. He drops his cigarette without a care and then rushes over to you, taking you into his embrace and holding you right into his chest. 

“Oh, thank you,” he murmurs into your ear, “Honey, thank you. I want to be there for you.”

You smile and look up at him, silently begging for a kiss. He gives you one, then two, then three, and only stops when you giggle. 

“Rafe, our place is gonna be so cute,” you gush, “We’ll have to get a really big bookshelf, though, to fit both of our collections. And we could have a super organized kitchen. I’ve always wanted an organized kitchen, but Emma’s always scattering everything around, and—”

“Y/N,” Rafe laughs, stopping you, “You can put it all however you want. I’m there for you, not the bookshelf or the kitchen. Okay?”

“Okay,” you chuckle, “I’m so excited.”

“Me, too, honey.”

He holds you tight on the balcony where the two of you had your first real conversation, and he does it until Emma comes to the door and tells you that it’s time to go. You pout and allow your grip to tighten around him, unwilling to separate. 

“You need to go,” he tells you quietly, “Can’t be late to your own graduation.”

“Promise you’ll find me after?” 

His shoulders fall and he shakes his head, “Yes, honey. I promise.”

Reluctantly, you release him and step toward the back door. Just before you shove it further open and slip back through, you turn back and take him in. 

“What if I go to grad school all the way in California?”

He knows it’s a test; a ridiculous question. You’ve never expressed any interest in going out there for school, and he knows you’re not going to start now. 

“I’ll come with you,” he grins.

“What about Alaska?”

You bite down on your bottom lip to hide a smile as he starts over, towering above you and eyeing your mouth. 

“Anywhere.”

You open your mouth to reply, to dare him to kiss you, when Emma’s voice rings through the air once more. 

“Y/N! We have to go!”

“Find me after,” you say quickly to Rafe, then stand up on your tiptoes to peck his lips, “Love you.”

“Love you, too,” he replies, nodding inside. 

When you look back one last time, you watch Rafe begin to shake his head at your antics. Your lips tip up and you let the two words escape your lips, needing confirmation from him before you go. 

“You’re mine?”

He smiles, “I’m yours. Go.”

You nod happily and hurry to Emma, who holds her hand out to you and drags you out the front door, leaving only Rafe, Ethan, and Christian in your apartment. Immediately, Emma starts to gush about Ethan. When she sees the look on your face, however, the blissful, happy expression, she stops and smiles. The only person who cares about your happiness as much as Rafe is Emma, and she can tell that whatever was in that letter has changed your life. As much as today signifies separation between the two of you, it signals something greater for you, and that’s all Emma could ever ask for.

*i no longer have a tag list. follow @mackupdates for updates! <3

[redbirdandbluebird23]

The Kids from Yesterday - Chapter 12

Masterlist

Damian only made his way into the den once he was sure Richard had left for his therapy appointment. He had been turning Jason’s words over in his mind since the week before, but was still undecided with how to proceed. Jason believed his anger at Richard stemmed from the fact he left without informing Damian himself, but in actuality, it was because he left Jason without informing any of them of what happened. Damian knew Jason better than most, and he knew if Jason had not come looking for Richard that day, he would have gone to ground as soon as he heard the news due to his history with father (leaving Damian behind once again). Then there was also how much Jason struggled during Richard’s absence in regards to the pregnancy. He hid it well and Damian knew the rest of the family had not picked up on it, but it was Jason who taught Damian how to lie, so Damian could see through it all. 

Damian could admit he was better now Richard was back, but that did not make up for the seven months of physical and emotional pain Jason had endured.  It would take more than one apology and, as Drake put it, ‘half-assed excuses’ for Damian to even begin to forgive him. 

Jason was propped up in the corner of the L-shaped sofa in the den, his legs extended in front of him, with an old film playing on the TV. Titus was lounging across his legs, his head gently resting on the top of Jason’s bump as Jason stroked between his ears. The first time Titus had done so, Damian had been prepared to scold him, but Jason stopped him and said it was actually very common and, given how protective Titus had been of Jason, expected.

Read on Ao3

[wooahaes]

under the sun [jeonghan]

pairing: non-idol!jeonghan x gn!reader

prompt: darl+ing inspired fic.

word count: 11.5k~

warnings: skinship. food + alcohol mentions. jeonghan denying his feelings a bit. one kiss with dubious consent (reader is drunk and kisses jeonghan) that gets addressed and apologized for.

daisy’s notes: me fighting for my life trying to finish this fic before the end of july

< day 3 || masterlist ||

summary: It all starts when you wake up in a field without a name or any memories to define yourself with. Thirteen men take you in as one of their own, and slowly you begin to wonder what is going on within this world… and between you and one of them.      

Jeonghan worried about you more than he would ever admit out loud. Despite the fact that he knew you were cared for (by everyone, but especially by Chan, who seemed to follow after your every step like a puppy--overjoyed, no doubt, that he was no longer the “new kid” in the group), you were still on the quieter side. It was too early for him to know for sure if you were just a quiet person, like Minghao, or if you were uncomfortable. While Seungcheol led the group well, a watchful eye on everything and any potential problems, Jeonghan was always the one who served as the shoulder to cry on or a listening ear when Seungcheol was too intimidating to approach. Sure, he could tease from time to time--but it was always toward people he knew could handle it (no bad days there) and out of love.

So Jeonghan snuck away after he helped the others wash laundry one morning and found you out in the gardens. There were enough people that your absence wouldn’t be missed if he just happened to steal you away for a little break.

“You look tired,” he said from the foot of the tree you were picking fruit from. “Do you wanna take a break?”

“Chan told me not to,” you said with a concerned frown. “If you need to rest, it’s okay. But Chan said that it just creates more work for the others when--”

“It'll be okay,” he said. “It’s better to rest than to overwork yourself.”

Truthfully, Jeonghan knew you were overworking yourself. Always eager to pick up a task whenever someone needed a favor done, or making sure to put your all into doing chores correctly so that it would be less stress on anyone else. You shouldered the work the same way Seungcheol did without much of a fuss. Maybe that was why Jeonghan worried about you: you seemed to be cut from the same cloth as Seungcheol in certain ways. He wondered if you felt the need to “earn your keep” even though they would have let you stay if you physically couldn’t.

“How many were you supposed to pick?” He nodded up at the ripe peaches just within your reach.

“Enough for all of us.”

“And how many do you have?”

You looked away sheepishly. “Like... maybe twenty.”

“You don’t need to do anymore,” he said. “You did your part. The others can handle the rest. Come take a nap with me.”

“But--”

Jeonghan extended a hand up, “If you get in trouble, I’ll take the blame. You need to rest before you burn yourself out.”

With a sigh, you relented: you’d leave your share inside the church at the very least before going off with him. So he smiled to himself as he watched you search for a safe enough place out of the way to leave your picked fruit, and extended his hand back out to you. When you took it, he merely gave you a reassuring squeeze before heading out toward the river. He’d mapped out nice napping places forever ago, and he was sure every single person in the group (except you, but you’d learn in time) knew where all of them were. On other days, he’d bring a blanket with him. Maybe next time he stole you away, he would--or maybe the two of you could hide out in the attic, cozy on that bed underneath the sun window. It was usually a pretty good spot to nap, especially since everyone tried to clean that room first when they were on cleaning duty. Less people to disturb Jeonghan’s rest.

Yet he didn’t want to nap anymore when he was lying out in the grass. You had sat down next to him, still sitting up and watching the river pass by. If you looked close enough, you could see the occasional fish. The river always felt so clear most of the time, and yet occasionally you’d see one darting through the water--almost like the universe was taunting you.

“Are you adjusting well?” Jeonghan asked, finally sitting up after a few minutes of just watching you silently sit there. “You can tell me if you’re having a tough time. A lot of people do, to begin with.”

You looked up, uncertainty etched into every feature. “I’m fine,” you said, and Jeonghan could tell it was a lie. “I mean... I’m adjusting. It’s just taking some getting used to, that’s all.”

He frowned. Despite the way you seemed to get along with the youngest three in the group, Jeonghan noticed that you still seemed a little quiet around the others. Soonyoung you’d cuddle with during some nights (usually because he wanted you close by--he liked cuddling and you seemed happy to let him snuggle in), but the others... Jeonghan had kept an eye on and an ear open for any concerns. Joshua had outright told him that he was worried you might change your mind about staying--something he and Seungcheol had talked about one night.

Which Jeonghan understood. Seungcheol had told him you wondered if there were other people out there. Jeonghan had questioned it, too, before Seungcheol told him that he hadn’t seen anyone else. He wanted to leave, too. That was before they found Joshua. Truth be told, Jeonghan still wanted to go--only when it was getting too late for him to think straight. He’d made peace with that urge long ago, yet it still scratched at the back of his mind, begging to be let back in.

Would you go with him if he asked? Jeonghan pushed the thought away. No point in thinking about things like that when he had a group to help care for, you included.

“Is there anything I can do?” He asked quietly. “I know I can’t relate to being uncomfortable, but I’m happy to help if I can.”

He watched you breathe in slowly, eyes fluttering shut for a moment. He could practically see the way you were weighing your options: open up to Jeonghan, or shoulder the problems longer on your own. Is that why Seungcheol seemed so attached to you sometimes? Because you were a little like him? Even though the reasons differed, both of you seemed to carry the weight of your problems alone despite there being others there ready to help lighten the load.

“I dunno,” you finally said after a slow exhale. “It’s not that I don’t like being here with you all, it’s just...”

“Just?” Jeonghan prompted. You can tell me.

Another deep breath. “I just feel like I’m intruding on something. Chan and Hansol and Seungkwan always try to stick by me--Chan more than the others--but... I dunno. Sometimes it feels like I’m not fully 'one of you’ now. Especially since I couldn’t remember my name on my own.”

Jeonghan frowned. Jihoon had pointed out the pale gray lettering in the collar of your shirt that day--it felt right to say it to you. Maybe it was a mistake, but Jeonghan didn’t want you to go by a name that wasn’t fully yours longer than you had to. Everyone else had hated it--some more than others--and there had been relief in getting that key part of themself back. Was it wrong to tell it to you instead of letting you remember? Would you even remember without his prompting?

“It’s dumb,” you traced a finger through the small patch of dirt, “but... I think all of you are close enough already. Even Chan seems to be a part of the group more than I am, you know? Chan can go off with you or Hansol or whoever and fit right in. I’m just... here.”

“You don’t think we like you?”

“It’s not that--” You looked up. “I just don’t feel like I fit in. Sometimes you guys tell stories that I like listening to, but I can’t help but feel left out of a joke. I don’t want that to stop you guys from reminiscing, I just... I wish I knew how to make memories with you guys without feeling like I’m forcing myself where I don’t belong.”

Jeonghan had already begun formulating plans in his head. He wasn’t going to force the group together, but... Sometimes they’d get together for things. Maybe he could push the others to put something together, an open invitation for everyone to be a part of it. Just to be together as a group again. Hansol had that old projector that he liked to set up sometimes to watch old films with them--maybe Jeonghan could bring that up over dinner one day just to put the idea out there.

If you weren’t feeling like part of the group, then Jeonghan was sure he would fix that. If Seungcheol was right and the fourteen of you were all that’s left, you needed to stay together. Seungcheol had enough on his plate. Jeonghan could handle this.

He laid a hand over your own. “You do belong here if that’s where you want to be.” He looked you in the eyes, “Do you want to be here?”

You nodded. “I think so.”

“Then it’s okay,” he said. “You’re still new. Just give it a little more time.”

You smiled at him after a moment, more genuine than the nervous ones you’d given him before. “Thank you, Jeonghan. I feel a little better.”

“If you ever need to talk, you can talk to me,” he said. “I’ll take care of you.”

Jeonghan found Minghao working in a corner, painting a little tree onto the landscape. He sat down beside him, watching him work slowly but happily. Despite the fact that Minghao got along great with everyone else, the guy liked to have his moments alone--and Jeonghan had, admittedly, given him that. Minghao had been painting alone for the past hour, and Jeonghan would give him space again if that’s what he wanted.

“Minghao,” he said, voice soft enough to keep the conversation between them. Mingyu and Seokmin were working on dinner that day. “Do you remember when you used to guide us through meditation?”

He nodded, not looking up. “It’s been a few weeks.”

“Would you like to do it again?” Jeonghan watched as Minghao added a little red apple into the tree. “I think it really helped us before.”

“Did it?” He looked up just for a moment. “Some of you fell asleep.”

Soonyoung had, and so did Seungcheol. Admittedly the two that Jeonghan fully expected to last time--it was a few days before Chan’s one-month celebration and Seungcheol had been a bit tense about the whole thing, which meant Soonyoung was going to get tense because he wanted it to be good as well. Jeonghan knew the tension would come again in a week when your celebration was closer.

“Because it helped,” Jeonghan insisted. “If you don’t want to do it, you don’t have to. It looked like you enjoyed it last time.”

Minghao nodded along, brows furrowed slightly as he thought it over. “I’ll see if anyone’s interested.”

“Ask Mouse,” Jeonghan said. “They might be interested in meditation.”

Minghao nodded. “I will,” he said. “Did they say something?”

Jeonghan shook his head. “Just trying to make sure they’re included.”

A soft chuckle. An eye roll. Jeonghan almost definitely knew what he was thinking: team mom Jeonghan was back. He had a track record of doting on the other members and making sure they were being cared for.

“I’ll talk to them,” Minghao said after a moment. “I don’t know if they’ll be interested.”

Sure enough, you were. Jeonghan had agreed to be there when Minghao had gathered them in the church a few days later. While not everyone was partaking (a few of them were working on getting things prepared for dinner later, opting to prioritize prep-work over meditation), Jeonghan was happy with the turnout. The chairs had been stacked and put away, Jeonghan sitting in the back as he watched Minghao slowly weave in-between the different people lying on the floor--you included. Minghao stopped near you at one point, not pausing in his speech at all as he crouched down and gently moved you into a more comfortable position.

The air grew quieter for a moment. “Better?” Minghao whispered to you.

You merely nodded, and then Minghao continued on, calmly speaking in that same even tone of voice. He stepped over where he’d just positioned your arm a little further out without any sign of annoyance at his own decision, continuing to slowly walk between the different people. He paused as he looked at Jeonghan, giving a tiny nod to the others. It’s not too late to join them.

Jeonghan merely raised a hand to signal that he was fine. He didn’t need any meditation. You needed the group activity. Maybe Jeonghan could talk him into doing another yoga day sometime--that had been fun to watch last time. This worked, too, though. When Minghao’s back was turned, he saw the way you opened your eyes just for a moment--meeting gazes with Mingyu--and then smiled at him. It was something small, but it was a little connection that was being strengthened through shared experience. That was what Jeonghan had wanted.

Jeonghan noticed the way Seungkwan was about to head outside until he saw the scene before him. Minghao had given him a pointed look--everyone knew that he was going to do meditation today, and Seungkwan was one of the ones who hadn’t felt up to it. Jeonghan quickly rose to his feet, making his way to the edge of the room and gesturing for him to come over--avoiding anyone sprawled out a little too close to the walls. With an open hand, Jeonghan kept his arm outstretched for Seungkwan to make his way over, gently guiding him out of the church. He quietly shut the door behind him, standing out in the warm summer air with him for a moment.

Seungkwan had already been mid-apology when Jeonghan asked if he wanted to go for a walk with him. Just down to the river, where they could walk together for a bit. By the time they’d get back, Minghao’s meditation session would be over. So Seungkwan nodded, agreed, and walked a step behind him as the two went together for a while.

“Have you come up with anything new with Seokmin and Soonyoung?” Jeonghan asked at one point, hands tucked into his pants pockets. Sometimes the three came up with their own little songs and dances that they’d show off after bringing everyone together. It was nice and always a fun time.

Seungkwan looked up, humming in acknowledgement before thinking the question over. “There’s something we’ve been doing,” he admit.

“Jihoon’s still working on things,” he said. “I think Hansol has, too. Maybe we should have another music night.”

Seungkwan lit up at the suggestion. “Why now?”

“Why not?” Jeonghan continued along, hands still lazily hanging from his pockets with each slow step. “They’re fun. Jihoon’s comfortable showing Mouse his music, even though it’s not done.”

None of it ever is. Not the songs Hansol worked on in his spare time, not the songs the trio worked on: nothing was ever finished. Jeonghan had heard Jun mutter a lyric that he later heard from Minghao. When he asked, neither of them knew the song--they both said the same excuse that it was probably something they knew in their old life. They made things work, though: Soonyoung had been the one who proposed Jihoon share his songs with the others an eternity ago.

(”Maybe we might know part of it, if it’s a song someone else wrote...” )

It’d been a while, though, since the last one. Sure, they shared music with one another during Chan’s celebration, but before then... Jeonghan was sure that the last night they had dedicated to it was a week before Chan showed up.

Seungkwan hummed to himself softly as he thought, brows set in tight concentration as he weighed the options (to do or to not: the only options he had) against one another. When Jeonghan said he’d talk to Seungcheol about getting it set up, Seungkwan slowly nodded, as that must have helped tip his decision over.

“Okay,” he said. “But you have to help set up.”

Jeonghan laughed warmly, throwing an arm around Seungkwan’s shoulders. “I will,” he promised. “You just get the others together. We’ll figure out plans once I distract them.”

Seungkwan accepted that and, once the two returned to the now-finished meditation session, already went off to get Seokmin and Joshua to go find Jihoon. Jeonghan saw the way you lit up as you talked to Minghao about something, and he casually slipped into the conversation to see if maybe he could push you toward Minghao. If nothing came of it, then fine, but at least it meant that maybe the two of you would grow closer as people in general. He’d been talking about meditation and ways to find peace.

“Like with your paintings,” Jeonghan had casually said, an arm curling around you.

Minghao nodded. “Right. Painting helps, too.”

“Why don’t you show them your work?” Jeonghan gently nudged you forward. “Maybe they’ll take up painting, too...”

Minghao raised his brows, and Jeonghan was sure that if you hadn’t been watching him, he would have mouthed a ‘What are you doing?’ to him.

But you’d grown a little more excited, “Oh! I’d love to hear about them, actually,” you then grew a little more sheepish, most likely over remembering the fact that you and Minghao weren’t exactly the closest so far. “If... that’s okay, I mean.”

Jeonghan could see the way Minghao lit up, though, and he happily obliged. Which meant that you had that cute twinkle in your eyes again, and Jeonghan found himself smiling as the two of you went off--Minghao taking your hand as he guided you down into the passage leading back to the main room, just to secure you. He’d heard your happy giggle as you went, and he let out a quiet sigh.

As long as you were happy... then Jeonghan would be, too.

Music nights were common enough occurrences, for the most part. They already knew how to set up the church to make things look nice: the stage set with a microphone and the acoustic guitars, chairs lined up in rows (some of them with designated seats, as if it’s their own little VIP preserved seating, with those little plush animals to designate each person). Seokmin roped Mingyu and Jun into helping with making snacks for this, and Jeonghan can hear Joshua and Jihoon as they check over everything to make sure tonight will be ready. Jeonghan, on the other hand, was focused on the seating arrangements. Sure, they could sit anywhere... But he’d quietly picked up the tiger-striped hamster that’d been sitting in a chair next to a mouse, and set the otter from the end of the row next to it instead. He hadn’t noticed anything sparking between you and Minghao, but you and Chan...

Well. He left his rabbit plush on your other side. Just to ensure that you’d be able to enjoy yourself tonight, and to play wingman for Chan. The guy probably needed a little help considering how flustered he’d get with you.

People began to filter in once Seungkwan gave word that everything was prepared. There was a loose enough schedule for tonight, starting with Seungkwan performing something he’d been working on with Seokmin and Soonyoung, followed by either Jihoon or Hansol performing whatever they’d been writing lately. From there, they’d play it by ear: plenty of the others had things to share. Dances they’d choreographed, songs they’d grown better at playing... And Jeonghan would stand by, watching as people took their seats. He noticed the way Chan lit up upon realizing he’d be next to you, and he’d already warmly greeted you with that love-struck look on his face that everyone else seemed to notice except you.

Jeonghan settled in on the other side of you, and didn’t fail to notice the tiny way you shifted a little closer to him. He chalked it up to the fact you seemed to be drifting toward him a lot more lately, probably because he’d been trying to include you in things more. It was a guaranteed space where you felt loved and appreciated. That was all he’d let it be, at least.

Wonwoo had been asked to essentially emcee the beginning of the night, and he’d been the one to introduce Soon-Seok-Seung (which... in Jeonghan’s opinion, still felt off, but maybe a smidge better than the previous ‘Soon-Seok-Kwan’) in a song they’d been working on. Which made Jeonghan realize something: you, despite hearing Jihoon and Joshua sing, had no idea how talented all of them were. Music was something that unified all of them, and Jeonghan wasn’t afraid to say that all of them were pretty talented at it.

“Are you going to do something?” He’d whispered to you as Chan went to prepare for his own performance.

You shook your head. “I don’t think I’m as good as you guys.”

“Are you sure?” He asked, and when you nodded, he decided he wouldn’t push. “That’s fine,” he said. “You can stay here and enjoy the others’ performances with me, then.” 

Of course, this wouldn’t ring true for too long. Once the night devolved into singing other songs they’d found on records and whatnot, Joshua had pulled him into a duet. Jeonghan had tried to dodge it--he’d already told you he’d stay with you, after all--but Joshua had taunted him a bit and it’d been enough to get him up to sing. He’d do one song and then go back to you (although now that he saw the way Chan was holding your hand, the two of you happily snuggled together... maybe he’d stay up a little longer).

He kicked himself a little for noticing the way you lit up when you heard him sing, and for the way it made his heart flutter a little. He already liked you from the first day you came, but this only endeared you to him further. But if anyone asked if he felt anything over the fact that Chan was so lovingly holding onto you, he’d deny it. Not while Chan clearly felt something for you. Not while other people did, too.

Instead, he settled for pulling you into the next group song that they’d begun singing at the top of their lungs. Although your voice was far quieter than the others, he could hear you underneath the cacophony of chaos around him. Every lowly sung syllable hit his ears, alongside the warm sound of your laughter at the others dancing goofily, throwing themselves fully into enjoying this song. Soonyoung had turned, seeing you, and Jeonghan recognized the twinkle in his eyes.

So with a light shove, he pushed you toward Soonyoung, who’d extended a hand to you. You’d shot him a look over your shoulder, but Soonyoung happily swept you away into dancing with him instead. The way you laughed would stick with Jeonghan for the rest of the night, leaving him with a warm sense of joy over another job well done. You’d fallen asleep in Soonyoung’s arms that night, giggling as he and Seokmin continued to pepper kisses onto your skin, saying something about teaching you one of their dances sometimes.

When Jeonghan woke up the next morning, he realized how much you looked like you belonged there. You always did, in his eyes, but now... It truly felt like you were one of them in every way, happily curled up and completely at peace in a way he hadn’t seen before. You were finding your home with them.

Jeonghan smiled to himself at the thought.

A few days later, Jeonghan had called out to you as you lounged around the common area, a book you’d borrowed from Wonwoo in your hands. You held it to your chest as you made your way over to where he was packing wrapped meals into a bag alongside Jun and Joshua, and he’d already begun to fill you in: the three of them were going on a little picnic outside today. The weather wasn’t too hot, and they’d been wanting to go out for a while now...

“Do you want to join us?” He asked. He nodded toward the other two, “It was their idea.”

(Jeonghan, unfortunately, did not notice the look Jun and Joshua shared behind his back--which said to you that Jeonghan had just outright lied to you.)

“Are you sure?” You glanced over to Joshua, who’d continued to pack extra food into the bag. “I don’t want to bother you guys--”

“You aren’t!” Jun piped up immediately, making his way over. “We’d be glad to have you, if you want to come.”

With the extra support, you agreed to come along. The blanket had been handed to you to carry along, and you followed along behind them as they talked casually. Joshua and Jun seemed to head the charge, while Jeonghan lingered behind, just to stay in step with you. He’d waved casually enough to Soonyoung, who had lit up with realization that the five of you were going off for some sort of picnic, and darted off while calling out to Jihoon. Maybe you should have realized then and there that this wasn’t going to be limited to the four of you. While Joshua had found a cozy place for the four of you to eat, it’d barely been maybe twenty minutes at the most before you heard Soonyoung yelling for you all.

And where there was Soonyoung, there was the rest of the group. He’d found you five with ease and took off running, carrying a bag and a blanket in his own arms.

“What if we wanted to come?!” He huffed at Jeonghan more than Joshua or Jun, who’d giggled at how pouty the man had become.

Jeonghan had smiled, shoulder bumping against yours as he shifted into a more comfortable sitting position. “We didn’t say you couldn’t--”

“You didn’t tell us where you were going,” Chan whined as he made his way over, already taking up the empty space next to you. “That makes it look like you guys wanted to be alone.”

Jeonghan had rolled his eyes, making a comment that they found you all, didn’t they? Soon enough, everyone had joined all of you, blankets spread out and the conversation flying as you all ate yet another meal together. It was something you truly began to appreciate during your time living with them: breakfast and dinner together always felt like a way to center you all. It brought you all together, and it reminded you that you were cared for. Even now, Jun casually fed you a piece of fruit when he saw you eyeing it in the spread he’d set out, too far for you to reach casually since it was settled between himself and Joshua. There were plenty of dinners where he did the same for you, or he served you extra rice to make sure you were eating well... It was sweet to see. Jeonghan would wordlessly move the fruit closer to you after a moment, continuing on in his conversation without a care.

Eventually, the remnants of this meal was set aside to be carried back in when all of you decided to head in for the day. While you had been happy to sit with Jeonghan on your picnic blanket, the others had brought along other things to do. Mingyu had pulled out a ball to kick around with the others, already bringing up a game they must have played before you came--which had fired up Seungkwan immediately when he claimed that the last victory was a fluke. You watched as part of the group broke off and into two teams, taking the ball off to a more spacious area to hopefully avoid disrupting the rest of you. Wonwoo had decided to pass on the game this time, though (although not without Mingyu pouting at him for abandoning their team). You had pulled out the book that Wonwoo had given you, and you noticed the subtle way his eyes lit up with joy when he saw you’d brought it along, and he made a small comment that you should tell him how you like it eventually.

Jeonghan had been watching Seungcheol with the others when he spoke up a while later, mind seemingly elsewhere this entire time. “You know,” he said, “we almost left this once.”

You turned to him. “You... almost left?”

As if on cue, Joshua had been making his way over to rest for a few minutes, settling in on the other side of you. “Yeah,” he said. “Before Jun came, actually. It was... a really, really big fight we had with Seungcheol.”

Jeonghan nodded along, not quite looking at you past a tiny glance before he continued to watch Seungcheol. “When I first woke up here, Seungcheol hated how I kept asking questions all the time. He’d already accepted a lot of things as fact. But I didn’t know them, so I would ask.” He ran a hand through his hair. “And when I asked him why we don’t move on, he asked me why we should leave when we have everything here? And... I thought he was right.”

“And then I came along,” Joshua said, “and I asked a lot of the same questions--even after I saw Jeonghan end up with a fever because he’d asked too many. Whenever Cheol wasn’t around, we’d keep talking about things. Wondering what else was out there, why we’re staying here when there could be people out there.”

Jeonghan continued the story from there, “We agreed on a lot of it. And one day, I think we were both tired of never getting answers. So I looked at him, and I said, ‘Shua, let’s leave together.’ And he looked at me, and said ‘Jeonghan, let’s leave.’“

Even recounting the story now... Jeonghan felt an odd sense of familiarity with those words. As though they weren’t exact, but they were close enough to invoke a feeling that had long since been sleeping in his soul.

“So why didn’t you?” You leaned forward a little, trying to gauge anything from his face.

And with uncanny timing, Jeonghan and Joshua spoke together: “Cheol.”

Joshua shifted in his spot. “We went to Cheol, and we told him we were going to leave. And... I don’t remember who started crying first. It was one of us,” he leaned to where he could see Jeonghan,  “because Cheol didn’t cry until after--although he definitely looked like he was going to at any moment--”

“It was me,” Jeonghan openly admitted, voice a little softer while did so. Not out of shame, from what you could tell. Jeonghan never seemed ashamed of his emotions. “But you cried after I broke.”

“Neither of us wanted to leave, but... I don’t know. We kept questioning it, and it felt like we were trapped here without real answers.” Joshua’s gaze settled on Seungcheol, who’d nearly run into Mingyu while chasing the ball. “And then Seungcheol started crying because we were all he had.”

“We were all any of us had,” Jeonghan tugged at the grass, pulling up loose strands. “But if I had left with Shua, then he wouldn’t have had anyone. He opened up to us after that, actually. He tried to leave a few times before I came along. He’d pack a bag, and walk, and eventually end up coming back here in the end because it was the safer place to be.” He looked up, “So when he kept saying he didn’t think anyone was out there... He meant it.”

“Would you leave?” You asked, curling up a little tighter in your spot. “Now, I mean.”

Joshua didn’t hesitate, “No. You’ve never seen the city, Mouse. I think we’re really all that’s left now.”

And Jeonghan said nothing, only nodding along as he didn’t meet your eyes.

Joshua popped up from his spot. “You wanna play?” He nodded, offering a hand to you. “I think I’m gonna join back in.”

You shook your head. “I’m happy here with Hannie,” you said. “But thanks, Shua.”

“Keep this stuff to yourself, by the way,” Joshua said as he stretched in place. “We’ve never really told the others about it. We didn’t want anyone to think we’d take off one day.”

With the secured promise that you wouldn’t tell, Joshua ruffled your hair and returned to the game, running in to try and steal the ball from someone else. Jeonghan, however, remained quiet. You turned, watching him as he merely continued to watch the game, his gaze always returning to Seungcheol. And now with Joshua back in, he’d glance his way sometime, too, and linger a little too long...

“Jeonghan?” You said quietly, and he looked up with a hum. “Would... you leave?”

He shook his head. “This is home,” he said. “I don’t think I could leave it for anything now. Like Joshua said... If you’d seen the city, you’d know.”

“Then... Can I?”

“No.” He paused, realizing how harsh he had sounded with that serious edge to his voice. “Not now, I mean. Maybe next time Seungcheol takes some of us to scavenge. It’s okay,” he said, sliding a little closer to you. “Chan hasn’t seen it, either, and I think Hansol hasn’t, too... It’s a hard truth to swallow. You should enjoy not knowing while you can.”

“But I want to see it,” you frowned. “I just... I need to see it for myself.”

Ignorance is bliss, Jeonghan wanted to tell you. But he didn’t, because he knew the truth: ignorance was something that could swallow a person whole after a while. It was something that made you turn to someone you love wholeheartedly, and say Let’s leave together. Those words still rung in his head even now, the weight of them and a decision that wasn’t seen through resting on his shoulders. Sometimes he wondered what would have happened if he and Joshua had just... left. Would they have come back? Would Seungcheol even accept them back if they did? Or would the betrayal have been too much for even him, so determined to keep this group of people banded together that he took on his position in a direct attempt to make things easier for the rest?

Even weirder, those words haunted his dreams in this strange sense that he had said something similar to them. Had he? Jeonghan was sure that he said those exact words to Joshua, too. Maybe that was why they were so close now, soulmates of a different variety but soulmates nonetheless. They must have met in a past life and come together again, as if drawn to one another.

If Joshua was a soulmate to him, then Jeonghan felt as though he had more than one. Call it him being sentimental for the twelve--now thirteen, with you--people that he lived with, but sometimes he felt as though life brought them all together for a reason. There had to be a reason why they all seemed to fit together in this puzzle, as though they were always meant to be with each other. Jeonghan wondered where you fit in. He still felt complete with you there, yet it felt... different. Seeing you for the first time was a far different feeling than when he found Chan. There was no subtle sense of recognition that he felt in his soul, just.. peace. He felt at peace when you came. How peculiar.

“Mouse?” Jeonghan said quietly, waiting until you turned to him again. “Please... don’t leave us.”

It was vulnerable in a way you didn’t expect, based on the way that you looked at him--all wide-eyed and brows raising at his words. Yet you reached over, resting your hand over his, curling your fingers around it. That, too, made him feel at peace.

“I won’t.”

Jeonghan found himself drifting. Not in the sense that he used to, back before even Jun had joined the group. He was drifting closer to you, as if there were this invisible pull that always brought him to you even when he was wandering aimlessly. Sometimes he wondered if the two of you were tied together with a little red string that neither of you could see, always bringing you to one another. At first, Jeonghan thought it was his own worries that made him find you and try to pull you into the group. Now, he was sure it was becoming something else: something he wasn’t quite ready to face. Something he was less willing to name, too...

So he turned his attention to the fact that this was well into your third week of living with them. Next week meant hard work to get everything ready to celebrate you coming into their lives. Which, in Jeonghan’s eyes, meant that now was the time to take things a little easier. The weather was hot outside, and that meant it was the perfect time to not push themselves, but enjoy life a little more. He woke up early just to greet Seungcheol, wordlessly setting a cup of tea before him with one of those little cherry desserts Seokmin had made the day before.

“What?” Seungcheol looked up, already knowing that Jeonghan wanted something. This was the way most people tried to butter Seungcheol up, after all... because Jeonghan had started it.

He merely smiled, resting his head in one hand. “You’ve been stressed lately.”

“Just ask already.”

Where was the fun in that? Jeonghan chuckled, “I was thinking that we could take today and go to the lake together. As a family.”

It earned a tiny snort from Seungcheol: while they were a family, Seungcheol knew as anyone else did that throwing it around now was just meant to sway him further. “Jeonghan...”

“Just one day,” he pushed. “All of us deserve a day off. We can always afford it, you know.”

Seungcheol wiped away crumbs from the corner of his mouth, chewing slowly as he thought it over. Then he met Jeonghan’s eyes again. “You’re still worried about Mouse.”

Well, shit, that was... too spot-on.

“You shouldn’t be,” he said, looking back to the little dessert in his hand. “You’ve already done a lot for them.” Then he paused, gaze lifting to meet Jeonghan’s, “Unless... they said something to you?”

“A few weeks ago they said--”

“I meant recently.”

Jeonghan frowned. Couldn’t he just dote on you without it being this big thing? He always doted on people. Why would you be any different? “I just want to make sure they feel included here. They were right: people tend to pair off neatly. Chan always keeps them involved, but what about the rest of us?”

“We’ve been getting better about it,” Seungcheol said. “Are you worried about them not staying? They already made their decision.”

“I know, but...” He sighed. “I did the same, and Joshua and I almost--”

“They’re different,” Seungcheol interrupted. “Jeonghan. You can be honest with me.” He set aside the remaining piece of the dessert, fully turning to face his friend. “I’ve seen the way you look at them sometimes,” he lowered his voice, “as more than a friend.”

Jeonghan swore his mouth went dry within seconds. Shit. “I don’t feel that way about them,” he lied. “I just want them to be happy here--”

“It’s not a bad thing,” Seungcheol stood up, picking up the empty cup and plate. “You should be honest with yourself.”

“I am,” Jeonghan followed after him. “I love them like I love everyone else.” That was his job, in a way. Seungcheol was the leader of this group, Jeonghan was the heart. Joshua was a balance of them both. The three of them worked together to help lead--the same way Soonyoung and Jihoon could step up without hesitation when they needed to. Jeonghan always saw his job as being the one who openly loved and embraced people now, just to help things feel more like home.

Seungcheol looked up. “You pushed them toward Minghao when he brought everyone willing into a meditation session. And you did it again with Soonyoung, when he invited them to dance during our music night. You practically shoved them toward him,” he crossed his arms. “If you’re falling in love with them, then accept it, because I think they’re starting to fall for you, too.”

“They aren’t.”

Seungcheol sighed, shaking his head as he walked past. “If you’re going to reject them because you don’t feel the same, then do that. But don’t lie to yourself and pretend you don’t feel anything for them.” He paused for a moment, looking back, “start getting our bags ready. I’ll come help once I tell the others where we’re going.”

Jeonghan lit up with joy, planting a tiny kiss against his friend’s cheek before taking off--laughing at when Seungcheol groaned and told him to knock it off with the affection right after when he got his way (a teasing statement, surely: Jeonghan wasn’t afraid of skinship with Seungcheol in the slightest). Seungcheol eventually joined him alongside the others, filling bags with spare clothes and everything they would need to go off for a day and enjoy the lake. He smiled to himself when he saw you with Chan, packing your own bag as he excitedly talked about the last time they took a trip out to the lake. He’d been dunked under the water that time... a few times too many... but it was still a nice trip he’d enjoyed. He’d already warned you that some people would get competitive, since he already saw that Soonyoung was packing a ball to toss around. 

If you’re falling in love with them, accept it. Jeonghan stopped what he was doing, repeating the words again and again. Was he falling in love with you? It was one thing to think that you would ever fall for him when he merely showered you in affection to make you feel more at home... But what about him? He liked you. He knew that he did. But love? Could he even love a person after knowing them for a few weeks? Maybe that was the part that made him hesitate so much. He felt a sense of love for you, but that was entirely different from capital-L Love. There was something different in what he felt for you, sure, but...

The thought hung with him far longer than he meant for it to. Jeonghan wasn’t jealous. Except... he felt something when Soonyoung threw an arm around your shoulders, pulling you in tight on the walk to the lake. He felt that same annoyed something when Joshua looked him in the eyes and pressed a lingering kiss into your hair, smiling at him knowingly. He felt it again and again when Mingyu was too affectionate, when Chan held your hand...

Oh. Fuck. Jeonghan shut his eyes, head falling back lightly against the tree he’d been sitting against. “You might be right.”

Seungcheol hummed, looking up. “About?”

“You know what.”

And then he let out a soft chuckle. “I know.”

The day of your celebration arrived quicker than he expected, and Jeonghan felt... antsier than he usually did on these days. There was always this shared sense of anticipation when these days came, this nervous energy filling the room as they prepared to celebrate either the decision to stay, or the decision to keep staying. When he hit his two year mark, postponing the celebration the same as Seungcheol did so that they could celebrate it with Joshua... he remembered staring at himself with this realization that this was it for him. That the day he and Joshua  looked at each other and decided to leave was long since gone. Sometimes he felt this tiny desire to go out and look for real, to know for sure that they were the only ones left in the world, but he’d learned to live with it. Maybe one day, if things changed, they’d all leave together. The idea of leaving (whether that be alone or with Joshua or with you, if you would have him...) lost its appeal over time. This, Jeonghan had decided, was home. The people here were home.

You, too, were home. Jeonghan had become certain of that over the past few weeks. Seungcheol had said as much in his usual speech, too.

The celebration slipped through the night like sand through Jeonghan’s fingers, gone all too soon. He’d committed the lines of your face into his memory, the way you smiled, the sound of your laughter... Every evidence of joy, Jeonghan wanted to remember. Even though he, like everyone else, didn’t remember what came before all of this... He could still make new memories. He could memorize the way the light danced in your eyes, the way the last rays of sunlight kissed your skin as it peeked through the curtains. The way his lips lingered on your cheek as he planted a kiss onto you, the same as everyone else did, for what felt like a few seconds too long. He’d commit the warm way his chest felt like it was glowing to memory, too: that was because of you. That much he was certain of. Who else had come along and made him feel like he was filled with sunlight so easily?

With almost everyone in bed, Jeonghan found himself enjoying the quiet that often followed big nights like these. He’d made himself a cup of tea, already making mental notes of who he would have to check on come morning. Chan had drank a lot alongside you tonight, so that already marked down two, and he was pretty sure Seokmin and Soonyoung did, too (Soonyoung was the one who kept leaning forward to kiss your cheek, even happier to do so once he was met with your happy giggles)... He was sure that he’d end up on clean-up duty with Seungcheol and Jihoon to get a head start on sweeping up petals and scrubbing at dried paint, while the others slept in a bit more before getting some sort of breakfast together.

“Hannie?”

He looked up from where he’d been standing in the kitchen, right in front of the sink so he could wash his mug and go straight to bed, to see you lingering in the doorway. You looked exhausted, and he felt his heart soften at the sight of you.

“You’re still up,” you rubbed at your eyes, mindful of the streaks of paint on your skin--a result of the others breaking out the paints alongside markers. Slowly, you made your way over to him, stopping just a few steps away. “Are you okay?”

The slight slur to your voice only made him worry a little. Had you gotten back up because he wasn’t in bed yet...? “I’m okay,” he said. “I thought you were going to cuddle with Seokmin--”

“Why do you do that?” You cut him off there, brows drawing together. “Why... Why do you keep pushing me away and toward Channie and the others?”

That was... one way to put it, maybe. “I’m not pushing you away--”

“You are!” You frowned, and then repeated a quieter “You are... I don’t understand what I did to make you not like me.”

“I do like you.” He set aside his mug, taking the few small steps he needed to be in front of you. Jeonghan gently took your face into his hands, your eyes snapping up to meet his, “Mouse... I care about everyone here. I’m sorry if I made you feel like I don’t.”

“So why,” you curled your fingers around his hands to pull them from your face, yet you didn’t let go, “don’t you want me around? I wanna... I wanna be around you, Hannie. Just you sometimes.” You squeezed his hands. “I... I think I love you...”

“You don’t love me like that,” he said quietly, “it’s okay, Mouse--”

In a rash moment of needing to prove him wrong, you leaned in, kissing him without a second thought. Jeonghan didn’t think at first, either, as he kissed you back as his soul had been so deeply craving to do so, eyes fluttering shut. Yet reason kicked in quickly, and he realized you weren’t sober right now. He pushed you back by the shoulders, hands lingering there as he searched for the right words to say. He saw the way your confidence seemed to dwindle down and extinguish out, leaving a smoky version of the you he loved in its place.

“We can’t,” was what he said. Not like this refused to go past his tongue, uncertainty squeezing in his chest. Did you even want to actually kiss him? Or were you just drunk and affectionate in the way Soonyoung was? Why couldn’t he just... believe that you loved him as much as he wanted to?

Your eyes began to water, and your name died on his lips as you pulled away, already babbling off an apology for bothering him. Although you tried to get away, Jeonghan stopped you.

“It’s okay,” he tried to say, hand loosely curled around your wrist, “you don’t need to apologize--”

All at once, the dam broke, and you began to cry more. Your words were muffled as you buried your face in your hands, but Jeonghan could make out the apologies you kept spilling, saying something about how you loved everyone there but you had started loving him more. That kissing him was bad and you hoped he didn’t hate you...

“Jeonghan?” Seungcheol called out as he came in, fully awake in a way that made Jeonghan’s heart lurch. Shit, was he listening? Did he see what happened? His gaze flitted over to check on you, and then he met Jeonghan’s eyes again, “Are they okay? What happened?”

Jeonghan wasn’t sure what to say. “They’re just overwhelmed,” he lied, trying to spare you any embarrassment. “I think they drank too much.”

It was clear on Seungcheol’s face that he didn’t believe any of it. “I’ll get them to bed,” he said, “and then we can talk. Alright?”

Jeonghan sighed, nodding as he leaned back against the counter. He watched as Seungcheol gently wrapped an arm around you, speaking in a low voice about how Seokmin was still waiting for you--and that he could help cheer you up. He played into the lie, though, saying not to worry about chores come morning, that you could sleep in with the others who drank a little too much, too. The room fell silent soon enough, and Jeonghan shut his eyes. When did all of this become so complicated? He felt like other people would be upset or mad that you had impulsively kissed him like that, yet... Jeonghan couldn’t be angry with you. Not when he grew weak and kissed you back because loving you and being loved in return was the one thing he wanted more than anything else.

The quiet footsteps signaled Seungcheol’s return, and Jeonghan lifted his head to watch his friend as he grew closer with each step. 

“Joshua and Seokmin are taking care of them,” he said, slowing to a stop a few steps away. “I told them the lie you told me.”

Jeonghan let out a sigh. “I can’t get anything past you.”

“You can,” a tiny smile tugged at the corners of Seungcheol’s mouth, “just not this.” He crossed his arms, leaning against the counter, “So? You can talk to me.”

Normally, Jeonghan might try to weasel his way out of these conversations. Seungcheol dealt with enough as it was, and he wasn’t fond of adding onto that weight. But he merely looked up. “They kissed me. And I pushed them away because they’re drunk.” After kissing them back, a voice piped up in the back of his head, you greedy--

“But that’s not all,” Seungcheol spoke up, drowning out that little voice before it could go any further. “Jeonghan, I... I didn’t hear everything they said. If something’s wrong, I need to know.”

“They said that I keep pushing them away,” Jeonghan hugged himself. “And that they think I don’t like them.”

“But you do.” Seungcheol let out a quiet sigh. “Jeonghan--”

“They’re not wrong,” he said. “I have been pushing them toward other people because I do like them. If I stop spending so much time with them, these feelings will go away.”

“Do you want them to?”

Jeonghan decided enough was enough. He turned, fully facing Seungcheol. “Tell me you’ll be okay.”

“What?”

“I know how you feel about them,” Jeonghan said. “The reason I’ve been trying to push them away is because I feel like I’ll betray you if I actually let something happen between us. You love them, Cheol. So do I. So does Chan, and I think Joshua and Hansol do, a little, too.” He curled his fingers into his arm, digging them in to ground himself. “The others I know will be okay, because we’ve talked. But will you actually be okay, or are you going to just say it because you always put the rest of us first?”

Seungcheol said nothing as he watched Jeonghan, brows drawing together as his words sank in. “Jeonghan--”

“If you say no, I’ll wait until we’re all ready to take this step.” Jeonghan took a deep breath, slowly letting it out. “This isn’t just something that affects them and I. It affects all of us. Things are going to change,” he drifted a step back, bumping into the counter as he leaned against it once more. “So I want to know everyone’s ready to deal with that.”

Seungcheol slowly nodded after a moment. “Jeonghan...” His eyes met Jeonghan’s a moment later. “I wouldn’t stop you--”

“That isn’t what I want to know.” Because I know that, Jeonghan watched him for a moment. I know you’d never stop any of us.

Another slow nod. “I promise,” he said in a low voice, just to keep it between the two of them, “I’ll be okay.” His voice returned to its normal volume a second later, “We’re all adults here. I want them to be happy. If they’re with you, then I know they will be.”

Jeonghan chuckled warmly at the thought. “Just with me?”

“You know that I mean,” Seungcheol rolled his eyes. “Really... Sometimes I feel like we’re immature about these things.”

Jeonghan shook his head. “I just needed to hear you say it.” If he heard Seungcheol say it, then he could fully let himself believe it. He could then finally let go and let himself fall fully, embracing the sweetness of a love reciprocated with everything he had.

“So...” Seungcheol grew closer, his shoulder almost bumping into Jeonghan’s now. “You fell for them.”

He nodded. “At first I just liked stealing them away to have a napping buddy during chores, but... I don’t know. They’re sweet,” he shrugged, “and at some point, I realized I was falling for them.”

“Is that why you pushed them away?” Seungcheol watched him. “Or were you trying to matchmake them with Chan?”

Another warm laugh bubbled up from Jeonghan. “Both. Before Minghao organized the meditation session, I actually pushed them toward Chan. But it’s a little obvious they only see him as a friend.”

Seungcheol nodded along. “And you said you talked to him?”

“He got mad and said he’s an adult who can handle this kind of thing,” Jeonghan said. “And maybe that if I didn’t treat them right, then he was going to try and steal them.”

“That’s true of all of us,” his shoulder bumped against Jeonghan’s, the two chuckling at the thought. “Do you think... in another life... we’d even be having this discussion?”

Jeonghan lifted his gaze to meet Seungcheol’s, brows furrowing as he mulled over his words for a moment. “What?”

Seungcheol opened his mouth to speak again, but stopped, shaking his head. “Never mind. It’s nothing.”

“It’s not. Talk to me.”

Seungcheol pushed off. “Maybe another time,” he said, walking off, only to stop and look back to Jeonghan. “Take care of them,” he said, “I know you will, but... I just need to hear you say it.”

Jeonghan smiled a little. “I will,” he promised.

Whether you were avoiding Jeonghan or if Jeonghan was avoiding you, you weren’t sure anymore. For the past few days, you’d been trying to avoid him. The morning after your celebration, you woke up with a killer headache and the sickening memory of the fact you’d kissed Jeonghan. When you tried to apologize to him, he merely ruffled your hair and said that it was fine before making sure you were feeling alright. The laid back nature of that talk was enough to make you decide to keep to yourself, your worries that he was hiding how he felt were running rampant. When you tried to ask Seungcheol about it, he merely told you to give Jeonghan a little space--only confirming the idea that you fucked up, to be honest--and talk to him about how you felt when you felt the time was right.

“I just don’t want to ruin things between us,” you told Chan one day, long after chores were done, while you were resting on your stomach as you watched him search through the games that were downstairs. Seungkwan and Hansol would join the two of you soon enough, but you’d rather keep this conversation between you and Chan. You already knew what they’d say: Hansol would tell you that you should talk to Jeonghan about how you felt, and Seungkwan would call you silly for worrying so much.

“You won’t.”

“But how do you know that?” You sat up, pouting at him. Yet when Chan didn’t meet your eyes, realization struck. “Wait. He said something?”

He turned, wide-eyed that you’d guessed. “No--”

“Channie,” you got up, making your way over to sit next to him. “Is he mad at me? Just tell me if he’s mad at me. I’ll apologize again if he is--”

“He’s not mad at you.”

Despite the relief that statement brought you, you still felt as though something was off. You watched as Chan looked through the games again, although it felt like he wasn’t quiet looking now that you were seeing him closer. Like he was just distracting himself. “... Channie?”

“I...” He paused, and then turned to you. “I like you.” He said quietly. “And I know you don’t like me the same way. But I do, and I still want to be your friend,” he paused for a second, gauging your reaction, “so if that changes your mind about hanging out today, then that’s okay.” He paused, “I just... I wanted to tell you for once.”

Your gaze softened. “Oh. Chan...” You reached for his hands, taking a deep breath as you let everything sink in. “Thank you for telling me. I... I’m sorry I don’t feel the same way, but I do love having you as my best friend.”

That made his eyes light up. “Your... best friend?”

“Yeah!” You beamed, squeezing his hands. “You’re my best friend here, Channie. You’ve been here for me since the beginning. I really do appreciate you being honest with me, and... and if you need time to deal with this, then that’s okay. You can just tell me when. It doesn’t change the fact that you’re my best friend and that I still love you.” 

His eyes were twinkling, and he turned away for a moment, “Really... I didn’t think you’d be so...” He trailed off, “but I still love you, too. I’m glad you’re my best friend, too.”

The two of you grew closer as Chan wrapped you in his arms, squeezing tight. You smiled, hugging him back happily. If he needed the time to get over his crush on you, you could give him that as long as it still meant he’d be your friend in the end.

“Am... I interrupting something?” Joshua called out from the entrance to the room. “I can go if I am--”

“No!” Chan called out, pulling away from you. “No, we’re just--We talked. It’s nothing serious, just--” His cheeks were growing redder. “Do you need something?”

“Hansol said you guys were going to play games,” he made his way over. “Have you picked one yet?”

Chan shook his head. “We got distracted talking...”

“Great!” Joshua sat down. “There’s actually this card game I wanted to show you.” He turned to you, “Mouse, can you go get the deck from upstairs? Seungkwan likes it more.” 

You furrowed your brows. “What?”

Joshua gestured vaguely in the shape of a stacked deck of cards, “There’s this cute deck of cards that’s upstairs. We brought it back from our last trip into the city. They’ve got flowers on one side and the stripes on the other with the suit and numbers and stuff. I wanna use that deck,” he said. “Please?”

Chan looked between the two of you. “Um... I can go get it--”

“Mouse needs to know what it looks like,” Joshua pushed a little more, “in case we ever lose it. Just so they know what we’d be looking for.”

“You aren’t making any sense--”

You stood up anyway. “It’s with the other games, right?”

Joshua lit up immediately. “Yes! You can’t miss it. It’ll stand out, trust me.”

Although you swore you heard the sound of Joshua smacking Chan’s arm as you walked away, you continued on your little quest without much thought. The trek from the room you’d been in up to the church wasn’t too bad, although you’d always hate scaling the ladder into the attic. Was it really so vital that you get this one deck of cards? There were a few downstairs, and you thought that deck was down there anyway because Seokmin had used it for a game with a few of the others--you included. But maybe there was a second one you weren’t aware of.

The moment you could see into the attic, you realized what Joshua had been doing. “Jeonghan?”

He made his way to you quickly, helping you into the attic. “Hi.”

“I was supposed to--”

“That was a lie,” Jeonghan said quickly. “Joshua said he’d find a way to get you up here.” He took a few steps back, not bothering to try and hide the dinner that was sitting on a blanket he’d spread out on the floor. “Can we talk?”

You nodded, although you looked down at everything he’d spread out. “How did you--”

“Shua.” Jeonghan slowly sat down, patting the empty spot near him. “He helped with all of this, actually. I asked him to.”

After a moment of hesitation, you sat down and faced him. One way or another, the two of you hadn’t spoken all that much in the past few days... and now Jeonghan had prepared dinner for the two of you, likely to have alone. You might not have seen through Joshua’s not-so-subtle ruse to get you up here until now that you were thinking about it more, but you were definitely able to put two and two together now that the only person you needed to focus on was Jeonghan.

“So you...?”

“I love you.” He said it out loud, unafraid to finally let himself say it. How long had he fought against it? How many times had he pushed it away while trying to think of your own happiness by pushing you toward everyone else...? “And I denied it because I thought you’d be happier with someone else. I’m not sorry that I pushed you away that night, but I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you sooner.”

Truthfully, you couldn’t blame him for pushing you away: you were drunk. Even though you wanted to kiss him now... You didn’t like the idea that your first kiss with him was like that. “Jeonghan... I’m sorry I kissed you.”

“You were drunk,” he said, “you weren’t thinking. And... I kissed you back at first, too.”

“That’s still not an excuse,” you quickly said. “I crossed a line. I shouldn’t have done it--”

Jeonghan nodded. “Right. So let’s let it be in the past now,” he said. “And... Talk about us and what comes next.”

What comes next... The idea made your face grow warmer, heart beating a little quicker than before. Jeonghan wanted something to come next, and so did you... That meant a lot to hear out loud, to be honest. “So.. You love me?”

He nodded. “I... I think I do. At first, I thought I just wanted to help you feel more included here. I wanted you to be happy. And... I don’t know--I think I realized it at some point and decided that your happiness came first in more ways than usual.”

“Do you normally put everyone else first?” You frowned a little. You understood it would happen sometimes but...

He sheepishly nodded. “I’m used to it. Seungcheol and Joshua do it, too. We watch over everyone together. That’s... That’s our role, I think.”

“So....” You toyed with a loose string on your sleeve, not quite meeting his gaze now. “You were pushing me toward other people?”

Another nod, although he seemed a little more factual this time around. Like it was something he just needed to admit and move past. “I was. I decided I would do anything to make you happy, even if it meant watching you love someone else.”

“Was I not obvious enough?” You asked quietly. “I mean... I always ran off with you whenever you asked. I spent a lot of time with you--I went to everything that you arranged because you were involved.”

“Not for the others?” He raised a brow.

“For them, too,” you said. “I just... I knew you were doing it for me. So I’d go and be a part of things so that your effort wasn’t wasted. I liked being a part of the group, but I liked seeing you happy.”

“Well...” Jeonghan shifted so that he’d be sitting a little closer to you. “Then that’s something we have in common,” he smiled. “I like seeing you happy, too.”

You had a feeling you knew what was coming next. So you moved a little closer. “Hannie?” You felt your face grow warmer. “Can... Can we have a do-over on that whole ‘first kiss’ thing?”

He chuckled warmly, reaching up to brush a strand of hair from your face. “So you want to kiss me again?”

“You’re such a dork,” you sighed blissfully, “yes, I want to kiss your stupidly handsome face again. For real this time.”

He chuckled. “As you wish.”

Jeonghan leaned in, letting you close that distance between the two of you as your lips captured his in a gentle kiss. The first time you kissed him, it had been impulsive, and something he’d leaned into out of a need to be closer to you. Yet this time that need was far softer, far gentler than it had been before. It was as though letting himself love you wholeheartedly made him feel safer in taking things slower, in kissing you far gentler the way he thought all first kisses with someone so beloved to him should be (not that there was anyone else on the same level as you). He cupped your face, eyes fluttering shut as he felt you smile into this kiss.

When he drew back, he saw the way your confidence seemed to burn brighter in you. You pulled him back in for another quick kiss, as if it was your way of having the last word. He’d let you have it this time (but next time? He’d fight a little more, just to leave you breathless and to tease you further). This time, he just wanted to admire you, hand still cupping your face as he ran his thumb along your cheek.

“Things are going to change between all of us,” he said gently. “Are you ready for that?”

You thought, for a moment, that hearing it would have brought this sense of dread. The two of you would have to face everyone at some point and announce that your relationship had changed, and that did mean the dynamics among the group would shift a little, too. Yet with Jeonghan saying it to you... You felt ready. If you faced everyone with him by your side, hand-in-hand, you would be fine.

“I am,” you said after a moment. “Are you?”

And he smiled, leaning in for another kiss. “As long as I have you, I will be.” He knew deep down that he could face anything as long as he had everyone together, especially if he had you right beside him. His lips ghosted over yours for a moment. He drew back, quietly saying your name. “Let’s stay together.”

After a moment, you nodded, taking his hands in your own. “Let’s stay,” you said, taking his hands in your own. He weaved his fingers with your own, holding on tight. “Together.”

general taglist: @twancingyunhao​ @wonuziex​ @synthetickitsune​​ @gyulbabie​​

under the sun taglist: @shiningstar-byulxx​ @twogyuu​ @strawberri-uyu​ @bbmyungho​ @thedeeppoet​ @heeseung-lover686​  @bfwonu​ @fifty-shades-of-mischeif​ @blackwhiteandshadesofgradient​ @dreamhannies​ @yourfavoritefreakyhan​  @amethyistheart​ @jeonnyread​  @nap-of-a-starr​ @anidolcalledaoife​ @vernxnsfool​

[iguana-eyanna]

To Miss Laurant... Pt. 2

Pairing: Lord Alfred Debling x Reader

Summary: What happens when two souls who had not found love find it within each other?

a/n: mentions of past relationships and health issues

The Lord, Alfred Debling, has been the topic of the season since his arrival. Surprisingly, he has been found in the town's square, wandering upon his thoughts. Fair ladies often try to catch his gaze with a flutter of the fan or a flirtatious smile. Their efforts, undoubtedly, had gone unnoticed as he tries to catch someone else's gaze.

Yours.

It has been three days since he has seen you. His brief interaction with you has blazed a fire to his thawing heart. He thought he didn't had enough room in his life to love another, but maybe you were the person that can show him that he's wrong.

Now, he was walking aimlessly on a path nearby the cafe he'd always heard of. As he looked in the display, he was overcome with his emotions as he saw you. You were talking with Lady Danbury as you smiled brightly at something she had said as you both joined in laughter. You turned your head mindlessly and accidentally made eye contact with Lord Debling.

Suddenly, the solemn lord felt his heart fasten. His breath got caught in his throat. He quickens his step and leaned by the wall, inhaling through his nose as he closed his eyes. Why, after all this time of yearning your presence, did he feel like he was drowning in quicksand?

"Lord Debling?"

He opens his eyes to see you, concerned for his well being. He looked around and saw that some passerby's staring at him as well.

He gulps with a parched throat, trying to muster a sentence.

"I'm- Pardon me I was-"

You were about to hold his hand, but caught yourself from such action, knowing that all eyes are on the two of you.

"Lady Danbury is extending her invitation to join us for tea."

Your voice was ever so gentle, like a soft breeze through the countryside. He nods gently and you guide him inside. Lady Danbury arises from her chair and gives the same courtesy to the Lord.

"Lord Debling, always a pleasure for your accompiment."

Alfred smiles as he bows his head. "Thank you for your inivation. My apologies if I caught some unwanted attention."

"Nonsense. I believe you are still weary from your latest expeditions." Lady Danbury says.

"You travel?" You ask as you all settled by the table.

"I rescue wildlife, it's been a fulfilling mission I've dedicated my life for. I prefer not to eat meat."

"That's very noble of you, Lord Debling." You said, admired of his passion.

He gives you a soft smile as he holds your gaze a while longer. Lady Danbury notices what is happening and breaks the silence.

"Oh, how foolish of me. I realized that I will be hosting a dinner party by the end of this week. I must plan accordingly. Lord Debling, would you have the honor of taking Miss Laurant around the towns square in my absence?"

The two of you are shocked by her request but the lord nods.

"Of course Lady Danbury. I'll have her return to your estate before nightfall."

She smiles and gets up, placing a comforting hand on your shoulder and leaves the two of you.

Once you are alone, the two of you make eye contact again.

"I forget Lady Danbury can be so... straightforward." Lord Debling says.

You smirk, shaking your head.

"She insisted for me to stay with her longer than anticipated, especially since I've been considering to stay in Mayfair."

"You are?" He asks, hopefully.

"I am still unsure. There are... some obstacles that I may face along the way." You said, your tone sounding troubled.

"How so?" Lord Debling asks.

You were about to answer, but you decided against it. Lord Debling notices your uneasiness and leans forward.

"I apologize if I offended you at the ball. I haven't been myself of late since my accident."

"No, you have nothing to apologize for, my lord-"

"Please, it's just Alfred." He says, almost in a whisper, placing his hand on top of yours. He realizes what he has down and takes his palm away.

You shyly take yours away, blushing to yourself.

"Like you, I've faced tribulations on my travels. It has been hardsome to find people to trust along the way."

With enough courage, Alfred speaks up.

"I may not understand what you have gone through, but know that I am here as someone to listen."

Your hardened heart begins to soften as you hear the sincerity of his tone, knowing he meant every word.

From then on, the two of you were inseparable. Alfred had taken you around the town's square as promised, walking through the gardens or admiring paintings at museums. He even admired how you even admired a street performer playing music.

As you two caught a carriage to drive to the Danbury estate for the dinner party, Alfred begins asking about how you began to love music.

"I moved to Paris when I was a child. My family lived near an opera house and I could hear the singing of angels throughout the night. I picked up how to sing in french along the way and auditioned for a small theater. They had me sing every night and soon I became well known in the city. Afterwards, I was requested to sing in different countries and villages. I've seen so many wondrous things, I wouldn't have traded it for anything in the world."

"That is remarkable. Your family must be proud."

You give a small smile. "Yes, they are. Your family must be too with your expeditions."

Alfred couldn't help but exhale through his nose, shaking his head.

"Unfortunately, my family and I never saw eye to eye on my vocations. They rather have me stationed at my family's estate, to continue a legacy. But my duties held elsewhere. I never got to see them again. You were fortunate to have your parents support your dreams."

You bow your head in solemnity.

"I'm sorry to hear... and yes, I am very fortunate. Family is the one thing that I hold dear to my heart."

Lord Debling remains in silence, as he unfortunately never felt the love of a family ever in his life.

Soon, you arrived to the manor as you were greeted by Lady Danbury. Light festivities began before the dinner as you were drinking and talking with Lord Debling. You felt at ease with his company and Lady Danbury smiled at you two.

Lady Danbury walks to you both a few of her company. "Ah, Miss Laurant, allow me to introduce you to Lady Bridgerton and her daughter."

The youngest woman of the girl went up to you, smiling widely and her eyes bright.

"Lady Laurant, it is a pleasure to meet you! I went to your last performance and I was astounded, I wish I had an awe striking voice as you-"

"Hyacinth dear, breathe." Her mother jested, smiling at her daughter's enthusiasm. She looks up to you as you couldn't help but smile.

"Apologies, when I mentioned you will be in attendance for Lady Danbury's dinner, my daughter insisted she join me tonight."

"Oh, it is alright! It is lovely to meet you Hyacinth. If you like, I will be performing at the opera house by the end of this month and would love to have you there alongside your mother."

Hyacinth gleamed with joy as she smiled widely. Lord Debling looks at you lovingly, as he saw how kind hearted you truly are.

"Thank you! Thank you!" She hugged you tightly. You were shocked, but you returned the embrace.

"Now Hyacinth, why don't I share our gratitude with Miss Laurant?" Her mother said kindly as Hyacinth waived goodbye and ran off.

"Thank you for the invitation. I am sure this would be a moment she would not forget." The mother said, leaving with Lady Danbury as they talked.

"That was very kind of you to do that." Lord Debling says.

"It was the least I could do. Every child should experience life to the fullest."

You look up to see your friend in a quiet state. Since your talk of family, Alfred has been different of late. You were about to ask if he was alright until a bell rang, indicating it was time to eat dinner.

Soon, the dinner table was food of delicious foods and laughter. You were sat between Alfred and the Bridgertons and talked to Hyacinth who looked like she was over the moon. Alfred, again, was beaming at how you interacted with everyone. Your generosity and kindness lifted his mood since coming back home, and thought it could be a sign that maybe he wants you more than a friend.

Later, a servant went up to Lady Danbury with a silver tray, whispering something in her ear.

"Miss Laurant, a letter has arrived from you all the way from France." She announced.

You froze a bit until you got up from your seat and retrieved the enclosed envelope.

"May I be excused?" You ask.

Lady Danbury nods her head as you leave with haste outside.

"Oh, is everything alright?" Lady Bridgerton asks.

Lady Danbury tries to disguise her worriment for you.

"I am sure she will be just fine."

Lord Debling couldn't help but worry for you. He arises from his seat, excusing himself to find you.

He went towards the back of the estate, not finding you until he heard faint cries. Alfred strains his head and found you on a bench crying as you grabbed the letter in a fist.

"Miss Laurant?" He asks softly.

"Please, leave me be." You forced yourself to say as it was hard to breathe.

Alfred kneels in front of you as best he can and gently held your hand.

"I can't bear to leave you like this."

You open your eyes and see Alfred worried for your state. He cradles one hand with the side of your cheek, trying to wipe away your tears.

"What's wrong?" He asks quietly.

"Alfred... I can't- I can't tell you. You won't- understand."

Alfred looks down and sees the letter in your hand. You flinch, not letting him reach it but he doesn't move.

"I want you to trust that I would never judge your secrets."

"How can I be sure?" You half sneered, feeling your walls building high.

"Because I will tell you what I hold secret too." He says.

Your face softens as Alfred sighs, as he sat by you.

"I lost my footing by a cliff side on my last quest. The terrain was slippery but I persisted on to rescue a rare creature that has been targeted for hunting. I was so close to saving it, but I felt myself falling to my death. I felt like the world was swallowing me whole. My men found me with my leg twisted and I was unresponsive. I later woke up a day later, feeling immense pain in my legs. Then a doctor came in to my tent and said I'd be able to walk within a month's time but... there was bruising around my hips. There was a possible fracture that he could not repair and said I am infertile."

You look over at Alfred who seemed so sad after admitting the truth he held so close to his chest. He wiped his nose and squinted, trying to delay the tears that begun to form.

"I was born in a family where love wasn't an option. It was always honor and duty. I never wished for that on any child... or a child of mine. And I thought my travels would be content, but realizing that I could never have a family... I never thought it would hurt me more than it should. That's why I've closed myself off from the world."

You look at him then back to your note which you crumbled.

"Five years ago, I was beginning to gain recognition as I moved closer to the city in Paris. I met a Lord who came to one of my performances. He swept me off my feet and begun to court me. He gave all of these promises that my family would never have to suffer poverty and he'd support us. He said he married me. We joined together before our wedding, but I was left alone by the alter. He left a letter, saying that he took what he wanted and never wanted to marry a woman of no status. As he fled Paris by boat, a terrible storm came and he was lost at sea. Word spread he was presumed dead and that's how I knew that there was nothing I could do. He may have took everything from me but he left something behind."

"What was it?" Alfred asks.

You look over your shoulder where you see Alfred's sincere eyes.

"A son."

Alfred remains silent.

"I know having a child before wedlock is frowned upon. If you wish to leave... I understand."

You thought he would curse you or storm without saying goodbye. But he looks at you that look he gives you and leaned forward.

"What is your son's name?"

You turn towards him, taken back.

"Stephen."

You offer the letter to Alfred and he begins to read it word for word.

"You wanted to bring him to England."

You nod your head.

"My parents have taken care of him as I left Paris. He was only 2 when I gave him to my mother and father. I promised that I would give him a life he deserves. I wanted to raise enough money to move them all here. But my parents said that they don't want to. People may raise suspicions of Stephen's parentage, they didn't want to bear him the shame that I carry."

"Nonsense. You've protected him at all costs, you've sacrificed everything!" He stormed up.

You stood up too, calming him.

"Please, not so loud." You warned, grazing your fingers on his soft lips.

The two of you froze, realizing how close in proximity you two were.

"Why do you care so much? Any man would run for the hills if they heard my dilemma."

He shakes his head in disagreement.

"Is it a crime that I care for you? A woman as yourself doesn't need to fight alone."

That's when you took a step back, hearing his words clearly.

"What do you mean a woman as myself?" You ask, your voice cracking.

Alfred realizes what he had said.

"No, I didn't mean anything by it." He said, reaching out for your hand but you step back.

"Yes you did. I didn't admit the most deepest part of myself to be ridiculed from a so called friend." You said, turning away.

"Miss Laurant, I do not think you were weak. You are far from it." He said, trying to keep up with you.

"Then what am I to you, Alfred?" You spun around, facing him with your face red with anger.

Alfred crushes his lips toward you and held you close to his chest. You were stunned at first, then you melted into his embrace as your hands laid flat against his broad chest. His heart was beating faster than any mane he has seen trollop.

Once you two parted, you look at him, astounded.

There were so many things to say, but so little time. You had to find a way to bring your family to Mayfair, or travel back to Paris to see your son again. You turned around, leaving Lord Debling alone again.

His heart sank as the kiss you two shared still hung onto his lips. He tasted hints of honey from it.

Alfred knows he upset you. He left in a hurry and flagged down his carriage. Alfred was still recovering from his wounds but he knew someone who has traveled as much as him and help him on his quest.

"Where to, Lord Debling?" The coachmen asks.

Lord Debling looks back at the estate where you left him and faced away. He had to make things right with you, and that's by reuniting you with your family.

"Take me to Colin Bridgerton's estate please."

[insurrection-if]

Hiatus Ended

I am very sorry, truly. I cannot stress my apologies enough.

I'm back.

I am, honestly, somewhat scared to be returning after so much silence. Every day without a peep from me on this blog just seemed to compress this sense of guilt and unworthiness I felt towards the idea of returning at all.

My hiatus was not announced. It had not been planned. It was unfair of me to let it drag on so long without any notification that it was occurring. Everyone who has ever shown interest or kindness towards this story deserves far, far better than what I have provided.

I was not confident about this story, or my conveyance of these characters. I despised my writing. I toyed with some other projects behind the scenes. I experimented with Twine - and I have declared Twine to be my latest technological enemy (as I am horrible with it). It is very suitable to other stories I have in mind, but my effort with those stories and my taming of Twine are heavily scaled back for now.

My efforts at present have also largely been focused on my financial situation and future. Thankfully, my current circumstances have eased much of the financial stress I faced earlier this year. Though my current employment does not provide a very liberating schedule to work creatively, I do feel much more secure in my continued ability to write as a means of recreational enjoyment and fulfillment.

In my absence, it has come to my attention that this community has not given up on Insurrection.

This is an unbelievable wonder worthy of a good cry.

I cannot emphasize enough how meaningful this is to me. I do not deserve all the support shown to this story thus far. The IF community is overflowing with passion, creativity, and talent that I could never hope to match. And so, to have this much gracious interest extended to this story, I am helplessly and forever thankful.

Your time, your interest, and your presence hold a value far greater than a number on a screen could ever tell.

But, goodness, that number is quite something to behold!

Thank you, thank you, thank you, each and every one of you! I would like to celebrate such a momentous milestone in following but, alas, I am not the most creative of 'party planners' . . . nor am I even a decent one at that! (；´∀｀)

If anyone has any ideas, suggestions, or wishes for something to mark this occasion, please let me know! Otherwise, I simply wish to extend my gratitude as sincerely and deeply as possible to everyone who has taken the time to read this, or just about anything on this blog. It is a privilege for me to be able to share my ideas and writing with so many in a way I never could, or can, in my life beyond the screen.

Thank you! For your patience, your grace, and your belief in this story! Thank you everyone!

[ozzgin]

Dear Ozzgin,

I am currently in the process of working on the Ozz Harem narrative, a project I have not previously undertaken. After dedicating several arduous days to research and study, I am pleased to report that I have managed to grasp some key elements necessary to initiate this storytelling endeavor. However, it is worth noting that this may be a narrative that initially falters before gradually improving.

On a separate note, I recently acquired a new personal computer, which unfortunately resulted in the loss of all the Sims characters I had previously created. This has left me feeling quite disheartened. While I intend to redownload all of my custom content, I cannot predict when I will muster the energy to do so, as my motivation has been significantly diminished.

In more positive news, I had the opportunity to view the 'Amnesia: The Dark Descent' edit that you produced. Though I may not excel at providing feedback, I am eager to experiment with creating posters once again. I hope that you find them satisfactory, and if not, please do not hesitate to express any criticisms so that I may refine or reconstruct them accordingly.

How have you been? It has been some time since our last correspondence, and I offer my apologies for my extended absence. The demands of life can often become overwhelming and all-consuming. I have noticed the expansion of your harem and trust that you are enjoying the experience. Your blog continues to captivate and amuse me, and I am grateful for your commitment to engaging with your audience.

Warm regards, Unicornymous

Dear Unicornymous,

Allow me to start by praising your work, as it’s the very first detail that catches my eye. You have put all my previous text edits to shame. Not only have you followed the game aesthetic masterfully, but the choice of fonts is just flawless. Had I not known the context of the image, I would’ve assumed it to be an official dungeon game. This is clearly the hand of someone with digital design knowledge and an instinct for aesthetic. You have my compliments.

I am saddened to hear about the loss of your saved files. I personally keep a (periodically updated) copy of my Sims folder, with all the data, in a safe place to be transferred in the case of crashes/errors/new devices. Perhaps it is something you can consider in the future, to save yourself the grief of lost progress. I suspect it is a shared feeling among simmers.

You do not have to apologize for your absence, I will always appreciate your correspondence regardless of its regularity. Your own well-being in daily life should remain your top priority.

Lastly, it is I who should be thanking all the kind people reaching out to me, as there would be no conversation without the others’ input. I merely respond to the creativity and humor that is being offered, and for that I am grateful. I look forward to hearing more about your ongoing project, and - most importantly - I hope it brings you joy and entertainment.

Yours truly,

Ozzgin

[yetanothersparrowofthedawn]

Honeymoon

Pairing: Jake x Reader

Genre: Angst, hurt, ex!Jake

Extended Masterpost

Context: Who knew the honeymoon could end so quickly?

Disclaimer: English isn’t my native language, so I apologize in advance for mistakes and awkward wordings to come. Also, I guess this fic could be triggering for some because it’s kind of sad and angsty.

Word Count: 2.4k

Previous Track: All You Had to do Was Stay

Chapter soundtrack: Honeymoon – Lana Del Rey

YN stood alone on the balcony, the soft caress of the Mediterranean breeze whispering through her hair. She was soaking in the final moments of her month-long honeymoon.

The newlyweds had originally planned a glamorous and very public French Riviera getaway, but after the ceremony she had convinced Harry to alter their plans, seeking refuge in a more secluded villa in Greece where paparazzi dared not tread. The bride was in no mood to make parade of her marital bliss in the press.

Here, hidden from the world, they had basked in the quiet serenity of their love. Yet, as the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting golden hues across the tranquil landscape, YN couldn't shake the apprehension that clung to her heart.

Tomorrow marked their return to the real world—a world of prying eyes, whispers, and rumors that trailed in their wake.

The sound of footsteps behind her broke through her reverie, and she turned to see Harry stepping out onto the balcony, his smile as warm as the fading sunlight.

"What are you doing out here, love?" he asked.

YN smiled as she turned back to gaze out over the landscape spread before them. "Just enjoying the view one last time."

Harry came up behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist and resting his chin on her shoulder. "Do we really have to go?" she pouted, her voice tinged with reluctance.

"I'm afraid so," Harry replied before pressing a kiss to her shoulder.

"I wish we could stay here forever," YN murmured, leaning into his embrace.

"Forever?" Harry chuckled, "You wouldn't get bored of me?"

YN laughed softly, the sound tinged with sadness. "I could never."

As they stood there, wrapped in each other's arms, YN couldn't help but think about the real reason why she wished to stay in this cocoon. It couldn't just be the fear of facing the outside world or the uncertainty of what awaited them back home. No, it was something deeper, something she had been trying to ignore since the moment they said "I do."

"Any plans to meet up with the band after we get back?" Harry's question pulled her from her thoughts, and for a moment, she was at a loss for words.

She hadn't spoken to any of them since the wedding.

"I...I'm not sure," she replied hesitantly.

 Her gaze drifted out to the shimmering sea below. She had received a text from Josh, a week into the honeymoon. A simple and oddly formal, “How are you?”. She hadn’t known how to respond.

Truth be told, she didn’t know how she was. The honeymoon had been great, nothing short of a fairytale, but-

"I haven't really thought about it,” she added.

Harry nodded gently, and she wondered if he might have known about what had transpired between her and the members of Greta Van Fleet just moments before the ceremony. Between her and Jake.

It was a thought that had plagued her since the wedding – a gnawing uncertainty lurking beneath the surface. After all, with the numerous guests at the venue, most of which were the groom's friends and family, whispers could have easily spread.

Harry must have noticed the boys’ absence at the reception, too, but he’d never mentioned it. Not once. And YN certainly wasn’t about to bring it up. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder.

Before she could dwell on the thought any longer, their moment of quiet intimacy was interrupted. A member of staff appeared at the door, a polite cough breaking the silence.

"The car has arrived."

With a heavy sigh, YN pulled away from her husband’s embrace.

As they made their way downstairs, she couldn't shake the feeling that they were leaving something behind, something precious and irreplaceable. And as she glanced back at the balcony one last time, she couldn't help but wonder if they would ever find their way back to the innocence they had left behind. The bliss of the early days.

But for now, all she could do was hold onto her husband's hand and pray that together, they could weather whatever storm lay ahead.

--

--

As Jake entered the studio, the atmosphere shifted imperceptibly. Josh and Danny seemed to be engaged in a hushed conversation, their voices trailing off as they caught sight of him. Josh, in particular, appeared to be fidgeting, a nervous energy radiating from him.

"What have you got there?" Jake's voice cut through the silence, his curiosity piqued by his brother's sudden attempt to conceal something behind his back.

"Nothing," Josh replied quickly.

But Jake was not so easily deterred. With a swift movement, he reached out and snatched the object from behind the singer’s back, revealing a crumpled newspaper.

His heart stopped momentarily as he took in the screaming letters on the front page.

YN and Harry Styles Spotted at Heathrow Airport – Lovebirds Finally Emerge from Secret Greek Honeymoon.

Beneath it, a photo captured the couple, their hands intertwined, as they navigated their way through a sea of flashing cameras.

Silence enveloped the room as Josh and Danny waited for Jake's reaction.

The guitarist glanced up at them, his facade of nonchalance slipping for a moment behind the sunglasses he wore. He hated the pity he saw in their eyes, despised being treated like some child, unable to handle basic news.

"Well," he muttered, his voice tinged with bitterness. "They couldn’t stay hidden forever." With a dismissive shrug, he tossed the newspaper aside and headed to grab his guitar.

“Jake-" Danny began but was cut off.

“It's fine, really," Jake interjected, "I don't care." With that, he made his way to his spot in the recording booth.

The two other members exchanged a knowing glance. Jake was good at feigning indifference, aided daily by the numbness alcohol provided. However, he must’ve known deep down he couldn't fool his bandmates.

“Are we going to get some work done, or what?” Jake called out, attempting to steer the conversation back to music, if only to distract himself from the ache in his chest.

--

--

As the recording session drew to a close and the studio fell silent once more, Jake found himself alone with his thoughts, the discarded newspaper beckoning to him from the depths of the trash bin. With a sense of resignation, he reached out and retrieved it, his fingers tracing the outline of YN's face in the grainy photographs.

Greece, huh? he thought to himself, a flicker of longing in his eyes. That's where she’d been...

He'd never imagined YN would opt for such a destination. The memory of a conversation from years ago resurfaced in Jake's mind, like a ghost from the past.

--

--

They’d been in the bathtub that evening. His gaze had been fixed on her, as it often was at the time. He could almost still see her.

She was facing him, her eyes closed as she hummed softly, lost in the soothing scent of lavender that filled the air.

"I’ve been thinking," he began. She opened her eyes to meet his steady gaze, "if we're not going to do the whole wedding thing, can we at least have a honeymoon?"

Her reaction was one of surprise, her eyebrows shooting up in disbelief. "A honeymoon?" she echoed.

"Yeah, like, just us going away together for a bit," Jake elaborated.

She giggled, the water rippling gently around them. "You mean, a vacation?"

He rolled his eyes. "Come on, you know what I mean," Jake persisted.

Despite his earnestness, she remained unsure, her expression guarded.

“We’re on the road six months a year, Jacob,” she countered.

“I know, but it’s not the same,” Jake insisted, frustration creeping into his voice. “We’re always surrounded by people, never really getting a chance to be alone together.”

"Hey, that's not true," she replied, her voice soft and soothing. "We spend plenty of time just the two of us, don't we?" Leaning forward, she reached out to him with a seductive smile, her fingertips trailing lightly across his skin.

"Yeah, sure, so long as we're within four walls," he muttered, a hint of bitterness coloring his words as he leaned away from her touch.

She blinked, confusion flickering in her eyes. “I don’t get it. What- what brought this on?" she asked, her concern evident. He remained silent. "Wh- Did something happen?”

"Nothing happened," he said quickly, the words ringing hollow in his ears. And nothing ever will, he thought to himself.

"Well then, why are you getting upset all of a sudden?" she asked with frustration.

"I'm not getting upset, you're being selfish," he snapped, the truth of his words stinging even as they left his lips.

She sat there, stunned into silence by his sudden outburst. But as she opened her mouth to respond, he was already rising from the bath, the water cascading off his skin like liquid poetry. "I’m sorry," he muttered, his disappointment palpable.

As he grabbed a towel, she reached out, her voice tinged with concern. "Jake—"

But he shook his head and offered a reassuring smile. “Forget I said anything," he said, his tone surprisingly calm.

As she sat there, the echoes of his words ringing in her ears, she couldn't help but wonder if she had made a mistake. Maybe she had been too quick to dismiss his desires, too focused on her own fears to see the longing in his eyes.

All he had wanted was a sign, a promise of forever. And yet, she couldn't bring herself to give it to him. She wasn’t sure why.

She eventually walked into their shared bedroom; the soft fabric of her towel wrapped snugly around her.

She leaned against the doorframe quietly. Jake was sat on the bed, clad in a shirt and boxers, his gaze fixed on the floor, lost in thought.

After a moment of stillness, she broke the silence. "Alright then," she announced with a playful smile dancing on her lips, "What should I pack?"

He met her gaze with a hint of hesitation, his own uncertainty mirrored in his eyes. "Do you reckon we'll need towels?" she pondered aloud.

"I mean, honeymoon suites must have some fancy towels, right?" she mused. "Probably much better than whatever this is," with a playful flourish, she allowed her towel to slip from her grasp, the fabric pooling around her feet in a soft heap.

A smile tugged at his lips at her impish display, his eyes lingering appreciatively on her figure. But he remained silent, his gaze fixed on her with an intensity that sent a shiver of anticipation down her spine.

"Let's see," she mused aloud, "I'm sure I'll need some cute bikinis, maybe that dress you really like, the black one," she suggested with a playful twinkle in her eye. As she spoke, she hopped slightly towards him, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. She knew the subtle jiggle of her breasts would breaking him out of his own thoughts.

His eyes flickered with amusement as he watched her. He knew exactly what she was doing, but he had yet to decide whether he’d let her.

"Or I could also pack nothing, see how it goes," she teased, a coy smile playing on her lips as she watched him for a reaction. But still, he remained silent. She sighed softly, her gaze boring into his, searching for any sign of emotion.

“Alright, nevermind,” she remarked with a smirk, turning towards the door with a playful sway of her hips, “I'll get my ski jacket I guess."

But before she could take another step, he seized her waist, pulling her towards him with a playful yet possessive hold. With a delighted squeal, she found herself tumbling onto the bed, his weight pressing against hers as they dissolved into laughter.

They’d spent that night, staring at the ceiling, sheets sticking to their skin.

They’d planned every detail. No staff, no schedule, nothing but the two of them. Some blues records playing as they would cruise down the boulevard in his used little bullet car. For once, they would’ve made the rules as they went, answered to no one but each other.

Of course they had never actually gone through with it. It would have been a logistical nightmare, anyway.

It had been good, though. Dreaming their life away, if only for a night.

However, YN did end up having a honeymoon of her own. And a real one, no less. With the lover suite, bottomless champagne, and chocolate strawberries.

And what had Jake gotten as a party favor? Blues, bruises, and booze - a trifecta of regret that served as a cruel reminder of his own shortcomings.

Perhaps he really had always been Mr. Born-to-Lose.

--

--

The soft hum of the engine filled the air as YN stared out the window of the sleek black car, watching the vibrant cityscape of London blur past. Her fingers tapped nervously against the leather seat, a restless energy coursing through her veins.

She glanced at Harry, who sat beside her, his profile bathed in the warm glow of the afternoon sun. He looked content, his eyes fixed on the bustling streets outside, oblivious to the storm raging within her heart. She envied his serenity, his ability to live in the moment without the weight of the past dragging him down.

The car came to a stop outside a stately townhouse. As she stepped out of the car, YN was greeted by the flurry of activity that accompanied their arrival. Moving vans lined the street, bustling with movers and assistants carrying boxes and furniture into the house.

The press, too, had caught wind of their return, eager for a glimpse of the newlyweds as they embarked on the next chapter of their lives. She was quickly ushered inside and away from the paparazzi.

Lost in thought, YN wandered through the rooms, her footsteps echoing in the empty space. Each corner held a memory waiting to be made, a canvas upon which her new life with Harry would unfold.  Yet, she couldn't shake the feeling of emptiness that lingered beneath the surface, a longing for something she couldn't quite name.

As she reached the grand windows overlooking the bustling streets of London, the weight of reality settled in her chest like a leaden anchor.

The honeymoon truly had come to an end.

__ Next Track: Happier than Ever

Extended Masterpost

Hope you liked it! Once again, I am begging you all to interact and leave comments it makes me so happy to get feedback and reactions xxx

Also, this is only the beginning lol. I have a billion drafts for other chapters so stay tuned, peaceful army.

Taglist

@aintthatapity

@sinarainbows

@vanfleeter 

@gretavanhockey

[starqueensthings]

Colder Weather: Part One

Summary: a two-chapter (nice try, Holly! It’s three) ficlet that follows Post-Stassis/Pirate Kix as he navigates the see-saw of an unexpected love that he doesn't think he deserves, and the trauma of his past.

Pairing: Kix x Fem!Reader

POV/WC/Rating: 2nd, 4570, Teen + up

Warnings: extensive references of survivors guilt, grief, and mentions of previous character death. Seggsy time is implied but not described. This is emotional (it needs to be, so I'm not sorry)

A/N: the context of this ficlet won’t make much sense unless you’re decently familiar with the legends version of Kix’s life post-war (it might even be canon now? Not sure…). If you haven't listened to the song that inspired this little ficlet, I highly recommend you give it a listen; it's truly a lyrical masterpiece.

Chapter One | Chapter 1.5 | Chapter Two | ao3

“I want to see you again, but I’m stuck in colder weather. Maybe tomorrow will be better. Can I call you then? [...] Well, it’s a winding road when you’re in the lost-and-found. You’re a lover, I’m a runner, and we go round and round. I love you, but I leave you. I don’t want to, but I need you.” Colder Weather by Zac Brown Band

You’d long since memorized his movements; long since perfected this dance, having performed the passionate choreography of this duet with him countless times.

It always began with the sound of his speeder bike nearing your quiet cottage; the roaring of the engine muffled only partially by the towering hedges surrounding your acre of secluded paradise. That rumble so artificial amongst the constant tittering of nature that it took a mere fraction of a second to recognize it, and even less time to send a fervor coursing through your veins so rigorously that your hands simply abandoned whatever task that had been keeping them occupied.

Triggered by the sound of his approach, your feet took you earnestly through the front door and out into the gravel drive. A small smile, often concealed by the expanse of a thick, dark beard, tugged his handsome features upwards as he swung a leg over the seat of his bike, helmet clutched absently in one hand and arms stretched wide in a motion so welcoming, even the sheer power of the Force couldn’t have kept you from leaping into them.

He never failed to match your enthusiasm, scooping you clean off your slippered feet and into the familiar tight embrace that you’d spent weeks longing to be secured in. Hushed coos of “Mesh’la” amongst other breathy salutations were words that never needed voicing; the way his eyes danced reverently across your features spoke more volumes than any muttered term of endearment, any hushed apology for his absence. Watching the crease between his brows soften at the soft brush of your thumb against his cheek was a feeling that could have sustained life for all eternity; every caress of your fingers atop his skin powered by an ineffable desire to remind yourself of him, to remind him of you.  

But there was nothing that consumed you as entirely as the dance itself… nothing that quite melted your mind like the way he laid you down on the soft cotton of that old patchwork quilt; the way that he stripped himself of his rigid encasement; the way his eyes locked on yours, twinkling with an unspoken promise that he was about to make up for his repeated extended absences… all the transmissions that he’d failed to respond to… the commitment that he continuously denied you.  

And while even the ghost of his touch still set your very nerves alight, time had seen the unpredictability of his visits robbed of their spontaneity; lust replaced with a devastating love; passion diminished by the anticipation of his impending departure. The dance had become less of a dance, and more of a contemptuous game: how many seconds would lapse in the forlorn quiet between when the heat of his skin departed yours, and the door swung closed behind him? How many shaky breaths would leave your lungs in the too-short span of time that it took for the shadow of the unseen monster, forever-perched atop his shoulders, to rob his eyes of the twinkle only freshly illuminated by the return of your embrace?

The answer: always too few.

He would only ever grant himself a dozen-or-so deep breaths to dwell in the lingering serenity once the cresting waves of pleasure had subsided, the heaving of his chest eventually stilling to match the motionlessness of the incipient dawn.

Unable to withstand the suffocating languor, a poignant sigh would trigger the initiation of his exodus, body following the command from his anguished mind to climb from the bed and methodically redress himself in that disguising, blue plastoid kit. A tender, whiskery kiss was always your parting gift. Lips void of the passion that had seen them so ravenously devour yours only minutes prior, now gently atop your forehead in a wordless goodbye-for-now; the roar of the engine echoing amongst the whispering pines the perfect soundtrack to the disappointment that pulled shameful tears from your eyes.    

Yet… sometimes… on nights like tonight, an inexplicable force inside of him would demand that he dawdle, and if the urge to flee stalled on its way from brain to body for long enough, he’d roll toward you, fold his arm underneath his head, and trail a gentle fingertip along all his favourite parts of your body: the fleshy space between neck and shoulder where he often sought the comforting fragrance of your skin; the shallow dimples on your lower back, perched just above the rolling swells of muscle that he could barely keep his hands off of; the gaps between your fingers that so-perfectly housed his, as if they were ten adjacent pieces of a puzzle crafted by divine artistry.

Time had yet to reveal any explanation for the mystifying tenderness of his touch… it didn’t seem possible that such rough hands could trail so gently against your skin, yet his calloused fingers could have been draped in velvet for how softly they graced your most sensitive areas. And his pillow talk? It was poetry. His honeyed voice would utter whispered stories of glorious mountain ranges on far away planets while the delicate strokes of his fingertips ghosted atop the swells of your hips. He’d speak of the freckles smattered across your cheeks, and how they almost perfectly mirrored the night sky in Wild Space where the stars were so many, that astronomy had become an obsolete science, the citizens opting to merely look upon them for their unrivalled celestial magnificence. And when he would speak of the vibrant array of wild flowers that adorned the meadows of Felucia, he’d scoop your hand into his and kiss each individual knuckle, as if the immense power to blossom such beauty dwelled inside the fingers interlaced with his.  

But they were rare, those quiet moments, their emergence so ephemeral that even the span of a somnolent blink would have seen them escape your awareness and vanish into the past, and they were as devastating as they were infrequent. Laced not with the dread of his imminent departure, those near silent moments of deep connection were saturated in a hope so ensnaring that its warmth momentarily overshadowed the pain of his repeated abandonment, and you became enraptured by the could-be’s… the if-only’s… the maybe’s.   

Maybe… maybe tonight would be the night that the orange glow emerging atop the horizon did not trigger his departure. Perhaps this would be the time that he’d stay and spend the morning with you, his muscular arms locked around your chest as you ceased to fight the blissful drowsiness engulfing your bodies, dozing together in the first rays of the ambient light. Perhaps he’d be so comfortable, there in your arms, that the ever-present impulse to run, forever-clenched like an iron fist around his soul, would be finally suffocated by the sheer power of your love for him.

Those optimistic moments often saw you rambling, thoughts slipping easily from mind to mouth in a desperate attempt to keep him connected to you; resolute in keeping him both physically and mentally present; urgently trying to protect him from the monster on his shoulders long enough for him to realize that everything he could ever want was lying peacefully beside him. Periodically, if your chosen topic was one he found particularly amusing, his eyes would crinkle under the embrace of a smile, and — if the universe deemed you worthy that night — a hoarse chuckle would pour from his lips. Despite your continued pleas to the stars, it was a sound that graced your ears with a tragic infrequence, yet the way its radiance illuminated your soul had you shamelessly begging the universe that it continue to spill from his lips for all eternity.

But despite the prophetic bond that kept him returning to your side, only once had the bliss of your union softened his guard enough to let something… slip. Only once had he mentioned a brother: Jesse, a man spoken of thoughtlessly as Kix snickered through the recollection of a frantic speeder ride across the plains of Saleucami. But the music of his laughter utterly vanished upon voicing the name that he never meant to speak, the silence that filled its wake so polluted in unexpressed grief, that even the hushed sounds of your breath felt inappropriate, and despite having watched the light leave his eyes so often in the past, you’d never seen it replaced with a darkness as deep and as sorrowful as then.

“Tell me about him,” you probed instantly, hopeful that the delicate touch of your hand on his shoulder would be enough to ground him there in the bed with you; hopeful that the soft caress of your fingers would prevent him from conceding to his anguish, tossing the sheet aside and leaving you with nothing but the familiar sight of his retreating back and the bittersweet smell of him lingering on your pillow.

A ringing silence encompassed the room, broken only by the occasional chirp of an uninterested cricket nestled in the tall tufts of grass just outside the window, and the soft brush of dry leaves twirling amongst themselves in the warm gusts of midsummer’s breeze.

Speaking his brother’s name had rendered Kix momentarily muted and seemingly paralyzed, his eyes wide and affixed on an image that cruel memory had imprinted upon the ceiling above him. His breaths quickened, shoulder rising and falling rhythmically against your palm while his nostrils flared against the same onslaught of turmoil also knitting his brows together.

“Kix?” you probed in a soft whisper, fingers raising from the swell of his shoulder to gently stroke his hair. Those waves of black, sparsely peppered with the beginnings of grey, almost entirely concealed the remnants of a tattoo… letters… pieces of a phrase that he’d consistently evaded divulging. The ink, seemingly unblemished by time, looked as if it had only recently been embedded into his olive skin, yet his repeated, vague explanation of ‘I was a dumb kid’, suggested it was a choice made long ago; a decision made deep in a past he refused to speak of.

“Tell me about Jesse, my love…” you implored to his continued silence, watching with bated breath as the muscles in his jaw contracted in near perfect cadence with the bounding pulse in his neck.

“My brother…” Kix muttered, wrenching his eyes away from the ghost hovering over top of him, his solemn gaze dancing around the room in every direction but yours. “He… he died a long time ago. They all did.”

Your fingers faltered in their gentle strokes only for a breath, the impact of his words sending a crippling wave of aghast sadness throughout your body. “Who did?” It left your lips in barely more than a whisper, the unexpressed heartbreak lingering in the air robbing your tone of the intense curiosity that he so often shirked from and dissuaded, but despite the feigned composure precariously wrapped around your words, he offered no response. “Babe?” you pressed, your fingers abandoning their soothing dance along his temple to trail under his chin and weave themselves into the dark bristles of his beard. Hyperaware of the fragility of that moment, you gently cupped his jaw and turned his hagridden face toward you. “Who is ‘they’?”

His eyes finally met yours, darkened by apprehension and a deep sorrow that had yet to be explained. “My family.” 

It was like nothing you’d ever heard before, the tension in his voice. Those two choked words constricted by a heavy lump in his throat, immediately transformed the gruff and callous pirate that you knew into a man so momentarily fragile that even the soft cotton sheets draped atop your bodies felt too abrasive. Even more unexpected was the mist gathering earnestly in his eyes, reflecting the moonlight beaming in the window as if suddenly encased in a dome of sparkling crystal.

Whatever was left of the feeble breath housed in your lungs escaped your parted lips in a devastated huff, your stomach torquing uncomfortably as your thoughts began to whirr frantically around your mind. Resisting the transcendent urge to lock him in an embrace, you merely swallowed the lump forming in your own throat and hastily blinked the wetness from your eyes. Like the quiet moment that he’d gifted you tonight, you were all-too aware that his vulnerability was fleeting; at risk of dismantling completely should you misstep. But this was the knowledge that you’d be aching to know your months… years; this was the monster on his shoulders that tore him from your bed… from your home so devastatingly often. You were desperate to know it all… desperate to know him.

“Your… your family?” Two stammering words were all that you could force from your parted lips as he wrenched his jaw from your grasp and turned his gaze back toward the ceiling, grinding his knuckles aggressively into his eyes.

A heavy sigh was his only response, teeth clicking from how tightly he ground them as he seemingly tried to rub the image of his dead family from his sight. You swallowed heavily again and perched yourself up on an elbow, leaning in to him with every intention of planting a protective kiss to his temple.  

It might have been the shift of your posture that triggered it, or more likely, his patience diminished by your continued probes for information that he wasn’t willing to share, but a sudden banishment of lassitude saw him instantly tossing the sheet from his naked form and swinging his legs over the side of the bed.

Horrified and disappointed, you hurried to mirror his movements, kicking away the bunched cotton from your knees and pushing yourself to a kneeling position on the mattress directly behind him. Your lids narrowed to near-closed against the sudden ignition of the lamp on the nightstand, but neither the pain nor the spots now floating in your vision were enough to stop you from firmly wrapping your arms around his waist and holding him firmly against your chest. It wasn’t until you pressed your lips softly against his back, did he seem to notice your touch, and even then, his only acknowledgement was to peer, frowning, over his shoulder in your direction.

“Please, love,” you breathed against his skin. “Don’t run. Just talk to me.”

A soft sigh forced his shoulders into a defeated slump, and the tender drape of his hand atop his navel where yours were tightly clasped, lacked much of the warmth and intention that typically swaddled his touch.

“They were… tortured.” His head drooped sadly toward his chest, the previously urgent mission of collecting his clothes from their scattered placement on the floor, momentarily deferred.  

It was the initial shock that he’d even answered you that forced your lips to still against his skin, forgoing the ever-present urge to pepper him with chaste kisses for the sake of listening to the response that he’d previously deemed you unworthy of getting, but it was the horrifying implications of his explanation that forced your eyes open and the pain that drenched his words as they left his scowling lips that sent an all-consuming chill down your spine.

“All of them,” he continued quietly to his lap, absently drumming his fingers against the back of your hand. “Just— just stripped of their will, their identities… and made to carry out the commands of a sick, sick man. They never stood a chance. No one could survive that.”

He permitted himself one last, poignant sigh, the emptying of his lungs pulling his posture away from your still poised kiss, and it wasn’t until his palm departed yours, fracturing the wreath of your arms around his waist, that you returned to some semblance of awareness. You could feel your heart hammering in your chest, beating against his back where the diffused glow of the lamp failed to soften the appearance of several misshapen scars along his shoulder; scars that you’d seen countless times previously, and had paid only little attention to.

Robbed of coherent thought by the repulsion surging through your veins, and rendered utterly speechless by the knowledge that you’d so desperately craved, you dropped your gaze to your knees, unmoving eyes watching them thrown intermittently into shadow as Kix moved about beside the bed, redressing himself in a suit of black compression, and the rigid, scuffed armament.

It was the soft scrape of plastoid against wood that broke you from your revolted torpor, his lean frame now completely encompassed in the blue suit that you despised, his helmet retrieved from the nightstand and hanging slackly from a gloved hand at his side. The sight of his impending departure returned you to a jarring cognizance and sent you frantically scrambling from the bed, bare feet ignoring the bite of the cold floor as you dashed toward the chair beside the window and collected the robe that you’d unceremoniously tossed onto it hours previously.

“Wait, Kix!”

You clumsily thrust your fists into the arms of the silk garment, your entire body laced with an exigent need to reach the doorway before he did. He couldn’t leave this time, not now… not now that he was finally opening up, finally sharing something other than trivial grievances about his crew members. He needed to know what you thought… how you felt. You had to tell him that none of it mattered to you… none of it made any difference. Except it did. It made all the difference. You thought you loved him then. That was nothing compared to now. And there was nothing that would stop you from loving him; not a past full of trauma, not tears leaking from his eyes, not the whispers that he denied hearing when the room got too quiet. None of it made a difference to you except that it did, and you would willingly spend the rest of your life banishing the ghosts that haunted his every move if he would just let you.

 “Can’t— can’t you stay this time?” you pleaded from your perch in the doorway, hastily tying a knot in the sash of your robe. “Even just a little longer?”

The snort that left his nose at the sight of your position, arms wide and clutching each side of the door frame in some pitiful semblance of a barricade, was anything but genuine, betrayed by the failure of the smile on his lips to crinkle his eyes. “Come on, Mesh’la,” he cooed, absently shifting the armoured belt around his waist. “You know I can’t.”

“Yes you can,” you argued, refusing to let the softness of his gaze weaken any of your resolve. “You just don’t. There’s a difference and you know that.”

The desperate sadness that encompassed your words surprised both sets of ears; you hadn’t intended for the sentiment to leave your lips drenched in such disappointment, yet his departure tonight felt more like a robbery than it ever had; stealing a fractured piece of you and leaving nothing but a shadow behind to replace it.

That small smile slipped from his features and he froze, upturned helmet held slackly at his side as he hung his head to his chest again. Your heart drummed heavily in your ears, the lump in your throat threatening to all but suffocate you as he stepped slowly forward, the old wood floor beneath you creaking and shifting under the weight of his heavy boots.

“Please don’t start this again, Mesh’la,” he begged in a whisper, tenderly tucking a displaced lock of hair behind your ear as his eyes flickered back and forth between yours. “We’ve been over this. I… I don’t want this for you. You deserve a better life than what I ca—”  

“I want this life,” you choked, chin threatening to quiver under the intense duress of your welling disappointment. “I promise— no, listen!—  I promise, Kix. I love you more than everything that you’ve been through. In spite of it all… because of it all. Just trust me. Stay with me this time. Let me— let me prove it to you. Let me sho—”  

“I know you love me, Mesh’la,” he interrupted, gently cupping your trembling chin and guiding your jaw upwards to look directly into your eyes. “I have never doubted it for a second. In another time… another life, I’d be able to give you back the love you deserve, but… I’m too sad of a man, now. I’m too angry… too volatile… too restless. No matter where I go or what I do, I can’t stomach my past, and I love you enough to not let you suf—”

 “I’ll suffer if I choose to!” you blurted, voice thickening in earnest. “I’ll suffer with you. It’s my choice, and I choose you, so just choose m—”

“Why?” he interjected, releasing your jaw and perching his hand on his hip. “Hmm? Why am I your choice? Why do you waste your time with a pirate like me when there are decent men lining up around the planet for your hand? Men that will shower you with gifts and affection? Men that won’t selfishly come and go as they please, like I do?”

“My time with you isn’t wasted, Kix,” you spluttered, eyelids unable to contain the flood of tears blurring your vision, banishing them to the heat of your flushed cheeks. “You don’t listen. I want every minute to be a minute with you. Every hour, every day. Stop running away from what happened to you; stop running from me. We— we can have a real life together.”

The aversion of his gaze to the floor did not stop you. You were too resolute in your convictions; too certain that if he just listened to you, he would finally understand. “I’ll make you caf every morning,” you continued, pulling your hands from the doorframe to hold his.  “And… we can shower together every day if we want to. You can make the water as hot as you want, and I won’t complain… I promise. We— we can grow berries in the field out back, on the other side of the tree line. You know, in that clearing where the flowers grow? The spot that gets all the afternoon sun? And… and we can brew our own wine. We—”

“Please stop.”

He was pleading with you in more ways than just the despondent words that left his lips; his dark eyes watching in something near agony as the tears abandoned your cheeks for the draped silk of your robe, but you were deaf to the desperation in his voice and blind to the anguish in his eyes as vivid images of what could-be erupted like a tragic film in your mind. 

“We can climb onto the roof and look at the stars on clear nights,” you persisted, releasing his palm and guiding your trembling hands onto the rough and worn plastoid of his shoulder bells. “And when it’s not, we’ll snuggle on the couch and listen to music. We’ll get drunk… and giggle about stupid shit… and make love in every room… an—”

“Please, Mesh’la.” He clamped his eyes closed, cowering beneath your watery gaze and gently tugging your hands from his shoulders, pausing to hold them weakly in his own for a breath before dropping them completely. “You have to sto—”

“No, Kix!” you refused, stomping your cold, bare foot on the floor below you. “You stop! Stop saying you don’t want this life for us, because you do!”

“OF COURSE I DO!”  

Your hands flew back to brace yourself in the doorway, shoulders jerking with fright, choked breaths freezing in your lungs. He’d never shouted like that before… and if he had, it certainly hadn’t been in your presence. Never once had you seen his eyes shrink behind lids so narrowed that the even the bridge of his nose scrunched to assist in their efforts. You’d never seen his thick, expressive brows contract so tightly and shoot toward the messy curls of his hairline in such earnest, and you’d never seen a look quite like that in his eyes… the frenzied look of a man desperate to be understood.

“Of— of course I want all of that,” he continued, his tone softening slightly as the ghost of his outburst rang back at him from the quiet corners. “But it’s not that simple. You don’t understand. I want it, Mesh’la, but I shouldn’t have it. I can’t have it. Why… why do I deserve the promise of a quiet life, when they never even had a chance at one? Why should I be the only one gifted with a happy ending, when they were robbed of theirs? If they can’t have it, then I ca—”

His voice cracked… fractured under the duress of the emotion simmering too near the surface, and it echoed more poignantly around the room than the hoarse shout which preceded it. That quiet moment, as you watched his shoulders sag in complete and utter dejection, with his head slowly shaking against a myriad of thoughts that he refused to speak, you would have withstood nearly anything to ensure the music of his voice never cracked like that again. You would have agreed to stand near-naked in the doorway for all eternity, willing to shoulder any amount of shouting, any verbal reprovement… anything if it promised him true peace from the sorrow that robbed him of his voice… of his life.

The threat of a sob forced your face into your clammy palms, pressing the heels of your hands into your eyes until tiny, glimmering phosphenes erupted in your vision. Why couldn’t it all be as beautiful as those silly little dancing lights, brought to life with just a slight pressure from a small hand? Why could people not be free to dance about in darkness, as they are? Why must our darkness diminish our light? Why are those pretty dancing lights, free from the plague of guilt and sorrow, forever permitted to slumber until external pressure brings them to life, an occasion in which they shine so marvelously?  

The thunk of his boots and the creak of the floor signaled his slow approach. “I have to go, Cyare,” he mumbled into the space beside your ear, his free hand dusting soft strokes up and down your forearm.

You exposed your tear-streaked face and stared blankly across the room, unwilling to nod and acknowledge the disappointment. So this wasn’t going to be the time that he stayed.

“You know I love you,” he muttered into your hairline before planting a soft kiss on your temple, but the disillusionment had numbed you almost entirely, and you felt nothing of his lips on your skin, nor the brush of his body slipping past you through the door… you heard none of his footsteps fading down the hallway… nothing of the door closing behind him as he disappeared into the diminishing darkness outside… nor did you hear the roar of his speeder engine reverberating around the corners of your secluded paradise, all too eager and willing to rob you of him again.  

tags: @anxiouspineapple99 @sinfulsalutations @dystopicjumpsuit @523rdrebel