#at least none that I’d be good at coming up with on my own

[stevieschrodinger]

Part One Two Three Four

“What?” Steve’s on edge, he doesn’t mean to snap, it just comes out that way. Eddie’s gone from never looking at him to...always looking at him. And the scrutiny is...it’s so fucking judgemental. Eddie has a horrible little smirk on his face as he fucking stares, eyeballing the drink Steve is pouring for himself, Steve is on the edge of just...screaming at him, or something.

Eddie huffs, rolls his eyes, but still doesn’t say anything.

Steve pinches the bridge of his nose, takes a deep calming breath, and reminds himself that absolutely none of this is Eddie’s fault. They’re alone for the first time in a while, so Steve takes his chance, “I’m really sorry, about what I said, okay? I’m sorry I...tricked you. It was wrong, it was absolutely a dick move, I had no right to know, and I’m sorry.”

Eddie does look away then, deflating a little, Steve’s apology seems to have knocked the wind out of his sails, or something. Diluted the anger a little, at least.

“It’s…” Eddie shrugs, staring the shit out of the kitchen floor, “my Steve didn’t drink.”

Steve scrunches his nose up, surprised, “what, at all?”

Eddie shrugs, “glass of wine with dinner maybe, if we went somewhere just the two of us but...no. Not really,” he keeps picking the label off his own beer.

“But why?” Steve asks, so incredulous at the revelation that he forgets to be pissed off.

Eddie won’t look at him now, though, tinking a ring against the glass bottle. The moments long enough that Steve knows Eddie’s debating if he should tell him at all, but eventually Eddie sighs, “when Ronnie was tiny, she got a cough. She was like...fine, we didn’t think anything of it, just thought she was being grizzly or whatever. And Steve had a drink, and I hadn’t, so it was fine but, I checked on her, and she was fast asleep but like had a raging temperature. And it didn’t matter, we had baby meds in the house, we were prepared but...Steve got so worried. He was like but what if we’d run out of meds or...or they didn’t bring her temperature down and she needed urgent care or whatever. I mean, she was absolutely fine, we changed her out of her footie jammies and the medicine worked just fine so...literally nothing happened but...Steve still got so worried about it. So he decided he needed to always be able to drive just in case and he just...stopped. Drinking.”

Steve wants to open his mouth and dispute it. Wants to tell Eddie he’d never fucking do that, that he isn’t the paragon of perfection Eddie dreamed up while his body was busy beating the crap out of every one. That he can’t possibly compare...but he can see it. He wouldn’t miss it, he knows he wouldn’t, and it’s the logical way to make sure his kid is fine then...yeah. Steve would, the thinks. He thinks he would do that.

“He sounds like a good guy,” Steve answers softly.

And Eddie, Eddie smiles before biting his lips together. He closes his eyes and swallows, thick and slow, his voice breaking when he speaks, and Steve knows that Eddie’s fighting a loosing battle against the tears, “he was.”

“Do you want…” Steve holds his arms out, and Eddie all but falls into them, “I know I’m not him, okay, I know that, but I’m here, if you want me to be here.”

Steve thinks he feels Eddie nod, as he sobs against Steve’s chest, curled up so Steve can hold all of him. And Steve cries too. He can't keep the tears inside. Eddie’s pain is palpable, and this isn’t about Steve, not really, Eddie’s Steve was real to Eddie but...the details. The details of Eddie’s story are gutting to listen to. He had a child, and she grew up, and Eddie...he remembers all these little details of their lives.

“Why are you crying?” Eddie chokes out through a sob.

“The footie pajamas,” Steve manages through his own tears, “you had a little girl Eds, you had a little girl and you-” Steve can’t finish it, it’s just so horrible. So unbelievably cruel. Steve can’t even imagine, not really, “I’m so so sorry you went through this. It’s my fault, if I’d taken you with us, if I’d gotten you out, I didn’t know Eddie I swear I didn’t know-”

“I know. I know. Stop it. I probably...I’d be dead now, if you- although I don’t know if that would be better.”

“Jesus,” Steve drags him close drags him into a rib crushing hug, tries to press Eddie inside him, “don’t say that. Jesus Christ, please don’t say that.”

“I...okay.”

Eddie becomes his shadow, which is...kind of weird but also not. Steve doesn’t mind Eddie being there, not at all. He keeps feeling...strangely guilty, about the whole thing. Like it’s, at least, in some way, Steve’s fault, no matter what Eddie might say. Logically Steve knows Eddie’s right, and isn’t that ridiculous, that Eddie has been reassuring Steve? But Eddie is right, Steve couldn’t have known what would happen, no one could, and...Eddie was dead. There was absolutely no way to predict what could have happened but...Steve wears it anyway.

Not to mention the fact that Vecna must have chosen Steve to be Eddie’s imaginary husband for a reason...he must have...liked Steve, for that to work right? Before everything, it must have been realistic to Eddie’s mind that Steve was the one. At least, the thought must have been present enough for that to...take root. Steve doesn’t know, not really, but it haunts him anyway, a loose tooth that, although is painful, he can’t help fiddling with. Even though it’s nothing to do with him, not really.

Eddie stops drinking. He has his last beer, he in fact makes a point of telling Steve that it’s his last one, and not to buy more. So Steve gets one too, they chink them together, and drink them. Then, without speaking, Steve gathers the remaining seven beers out of the fridge and they stand side by side, shoulder to shoulder, pouring them away. It feels kind of poignant, and a little ceremonial. It feels like an important moment, one Steve will look back on, “you still could have had them,” Eddie points out quietly.

“Nah.” And then that’s...kind of it.

Steve can tell when Eddie really wants a drink. He gets antsy, the kind of restlessness that comes out as destruction, and Eddie gets snappy and bitchy and...hard work, to be around. Sometimes. He swears a lot, gets angry over nothing. There’s a lot of slammed doors and angry clanking and music played loud enough that Steve winces and leaves the house for a while, not really caring what the neighbors think.

Steve lets it wash over him, or at least, does his best to, at first. But finding Eddie shredding the pages of a note book, one at a time, and then getting shouted at for simply asking, “you okay?” Steve starts to figure this isn’t sustainable.

He honestly feels like he’d be taking his life into his hands if he dared suggest Eddie go to some sort of therapy – and who could he talk to, anyway? How could Eddie tell someone on the outside that he’s lived a full life, that he’s lost an adult child and been married for like, thirty years by the age of twenty one?

Steve ducks the notebook as it wings passed his head, watching as Eddie stomps out the back door, slamming it behind him.

“Am I...uhm, gonna’ get anything thrown at me?” Steve doesn’t come too close, just in case. A torn up notebook cover might not have hurt, but the beer bottle still stands out in Steve’s memory. He wonders vaguely if he should have called one of the girls to do this, but it feels cowardly.

Eddie shakes his head, gesturing vaguely with his burnt out cigarette. There’s a neat little row of butts and a scrunched up packet next to Eddie’s boot. Steve pulls up a lawn chair next to him, “sorry,” Eddie says quietly, pointedly not looking at him.

“Yeah, it’s okay-”

“No it isn’t.”

“No...probably not but...I get that you’re hurting, is what I mean.”

“Yeah,” Eddie says again, vaguely, “sometimes something just…” Eddie sighs, and after a few minutes Steve realizes he’s given up and isn’t going to say anymore.

“Reminds you?” Steve tries.

“Yeah,” Eddie gestures again vaguely, running his hand through his hair. It’s looking a little greasy, but Steve knows that at least Eddie stood under the water this morning so he will take what he can get. His clothes are clean today, at least, and that’s a little win considering can go days with no interest whatsoever in his own personal hygiene.

“Do you...want to tell me?”

Eddie sighs a big sigh, “I wrote a song for Steve, for like, our seventh anniversary. Something like that. I wrote it out, to check I still remember. I do.”

“Oh. That sounds...really nice.” That is...very romantic. It makes something flutter a little, inside Steve, because no ones ever done anything like that for him, put in work. It doesn’t take much for Steve to see that Eddie is absolutely that kind of guy. The all in kind of guy, “I bet he really appreciated that. I bet he loved it.” Steve knows he would.

“Yeah,” Eddie rasps, “yeah he did.”

[purble-turble]

Lets ccomplete the Disco Light Squad with the introduction of... Nezha and his many variants!

Wait, the celestial realm is aware of the Battle Nexus now?! OH CRAP-

*gets swarmed by celestial guards*

Haha, yeah honestly it would be extremely funny if a single Nezha suddenly showed up in the Battle Nexus. Just a normal version of Nezha who takes one look around and is like ????? What the fuck is going on here?????

The thing about Nezha in Lego Monkie Kid is that, despite how chaotic and destructive he is portrayed as in his own legends and even at times in Journey to the West, in LMK he inhabits the role of the straight man. Makes sense, he’s the stand in for Heaven for the most part for the audience, and somebody’s gotta point out how fucking insane the main cast is! So when Nezha arrives at the Battle Nexus, a dimension literally created to revel in chaos, he is a little perturbed. Do Jin and Yin get, like, arrested by Heaven for running this unauthorized and potentially paradox creating mad house of a dimension? …Yeah probably. 😂

If season 1 of Battle Nexus is just episodic adventures and season 2 is the fight against the Lady Bone Demon variants, then season 3 can be Heaven stepping in after literally all dimensions were just put in danger because of this place letting LBD in and being like ‘shut it down’

[vladtoly]

Thanos the Match Maker

Nam-gyu x Female!Reader

Requested: Yes

Proofread: No

A/N: Hope this is what you had in mind! I had to re-watch some of his scenes to get a feel for him again, so I hope I did it justice. Thanks for requesting!

You stared at the boxed meal in front of you, eyeing it warily before going back to your bunk. Surely, they wouldn’t poison all of you right? It seemed that their whole play was being ‘fair’ in the games, so poisoning had to be off the table. Even with that thought though, you inspected each piece of food before taking a bite.

While slowly eating, you let your eyes wander the dorms. Everyone was obviously rattled, most not even touching their food. A large group of them stood in front of Player 456 to interrogate him about the last games. Just for his own sake, you wished he had stayed quiet. You understood he was attempting to save everyone, but he was preaching to the wrong audience. None of these people wanted to leave without money, and it was very clear that no sum of it would be enough.

You looked back down at your food. Sighing, you stopped inspecting and just ate. If you died, you died, at least you wouldn’t be hungry.

Footsteps began to approach your bunk, catching your attention. You looked up just in time to see Thanos and his sidekicks in tow, Player 124 opting for leaning on your bunk railing. Your eyes met for a split second, you looking away when he gave a slight smirk.

“How can I help you boys?” You said, attention going back to your meal.

Thanos leaned forward, his elbows on the mattress as he rested his head in his hands to get a better look at you. “Couldn’t help but notice you alone. It’s not very safe in here, you may need a guy to protect you in the next game.”

Letting out a snort, you continued to pick at your food. “Not in the market for a bodyguard, thanks. I don’t need your help.”

“Who said I was talking about me, Senorita?”

Now that caught your attention. This guy didn’t like to be out of the spotlight, so this should be good.

You looked up, meeting his gaze. “And who exactly are you talking about?”

He slid back so he was fully standing, smacking a firm hand on Player 124’s shoulder. He seemed to know just as little about this interaction as you did, if his shell-shocked expression were to mean anything. “My boy here! Nam-gyu can protect you no problem.”

Nam-gyu quickly collected himself, going back to his usual expression as he leaned back onto the bunk railing. He leaned in close, his breath almost touching your face as he spoke. “We don’t know what the next game’s going to be. But what I can tell you now is that I’d make sure you’re safe, baby.”

You raised a slight brow at the pet name but felt your cheeks warm at it at the same time. However, you couldn’t let this guy win that easily. It’s not like he’s been a delight up until this point.

You met his gaze and cocked your head to the side. “Oh really? And how do you plan to keep me safe if we don’t know the game, hm?”

“Well,” he opted to sit on the edge of the bunk, resting his hand on the mattress. His face had moved closer. “I may not know what the game is, but if you stay close, I’ll personally make sure nothing happens to you. We may even have a little fun, who knows?”

Your gaze studied the rest of his face, pores and all. Then it moved to the rest of him, eyeing up if he really could protect you. You realized he was hitting on you, the goal was to get closer to you, which you admit was working.  But you wouldn’t mind some extra help next game if it was needed.

When you were content, you made eye contact again. “Fine. Meet me at my bunk tomorrow morning, before the next round.”

He chuckled, moving his hand off the mattress and onto your thigh. “Or you could come eat with us now, get to know each other better.”

You couldn’t deny how your stomach flipped at the touch. Yet you cleared your throat and slowly moved his hand. “Don’t get ahead of yourself, baby. Maybe I’ll come by in a bit.”

He seemed content with that as his face split into a grin and he finally stood up. When he turned though, he realized Thanos and the other player had already wandered off, probably during your conversation. He scoffed but made a point to nod to you before going in search of them.

You laughed lightly, before looking at your lap, where your half-eaten food still sat open.

Fuck it. Might as well have fun if you might die anyways.

----------

Squid Game headcannon/blurb requests are OPEN!

[phantomwithbreakfast]

~ 𝐀𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐢𝐝 𝐎𝐟 𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐈𝐧𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐭𝐚𝐛𝐥𝐞 ~

⟢ One-shot Danny Phantom — Genre: Angst / Hurt — TW: Emotional Distress — Rating: T — AU? — First Person’s POV

———————

There he was—there it was.

My reflection stared back, the green glow of my eyes erratic, flickering like a faulty lightbulb. I wasn’t just looking at myself—I was looking through myself, and I hated what I saw. Not just the face staring back, but the endless spiral behind it—pulling me deeper into some unknowable abyss.

I couldn’t stop thinking about the battle. That one battle. Not with a ghost, not with some lurking threat—but with myself.

The dark part of… me.

The part that had escaped.

Again.

I’d won, of course—I had to believe that. I was the good side of myself, wasn’t I?

The hero.

But winning didn’t feel like triumph. It felt like a delay. Some whispers of the future lingering behind me, leaning over my shoulders, suffocating me with their burden.

I was afraid of becoming him.

That dangerous, older me. That monstrous version of myself that had been waiting all along.

All the—what ifs—it claws at the edges of my thoughts, unraveling my already frayed mind.

What if I couldn’t stop it? What if I was already becoming that monster? What if it was inevitable?

I stared deeper into the mirror, my fists tightening until my nails bit into my palms through my white gloves. I thought about my family, my friends—the people who had always been there. I’d already pushed them away, hadn’t I?

Maybe they aren’t even my friends anymore. Maybe I don’t deserve them.

Sam and Tucker had gone to college, following their dreams like normal people. Jazz was too busy carving her own path to stay. And me? I had stayed behind in the crumbling town I couldn’t abandon, giving up my dream of going to space. Protecting people was my purpose now. At least, that’s what I told myself. But deep down, I wasn’t so sure anymore.

Was it a noble choice—or a coward’s excuse?

You could still go. You could leave. You could be an astronaut. Fly into space. Fulfill the dream. Your dream.

But it wouldn’t be the same. Nothing ever would.

I gritted my teeth, my reflection rippling in the glass like a warped painting.

Happy thoughts, I told myself. But they didn’t come. They never did anymore. It was always easier to sink into the darker ones, to let them drag myself down into the undertow.

The mocking voices of ghosts, the weight of battles fought and won—none of it mattered in the face of the gnawing feeling in my chest.

My core.

It purred softly, a dissonant hum, both comforting and sinister.

It felt… so freaking wrong.

As if it didn’t belong to me anymore. As if Phantom—him was bleeding into me, hollowing me out from the inside.

My breath hitched. My fingers trembled as I gripped the edges of the sink. My eyes clenched shut, but it didn’t block out the image of myself—the warped, flickering, monstrous reflection staring back. I felt like a glass that was about to shatter, cracks spidering across my soul.

Stop it. Stop it. Stop it.

I punched my palms tighter until the pain jolted me back. But the ache in my chest was worse. Phantom wasn’t just part of me. Phantom was me.

My breath staggered in my throat—a sob trembling on the edge of release. My knuckles ached, my chest burned, and that pressure—that suffocating pressure—kept building on.

“Get out of my head!” I screamed, my voice raw, ripping through the suffocating silence.

The sound reverberated in the tiny room, crashing into the walls and returning to me like a ghostly echo. My reflection flickered again—glowing red of Phantom’s eyes overtaking my own for the briefest moment before fading back into green.

But it wasn’t enough.

“Leave me alone!” I shouted again, this time so forcefully that my throat hurt, as though I was tearing myself apart. The sound cracked into a wail—an uncontrollable, heart-shattering release.

Green tears left cold trails down my cheeks as I screamed again, and again, and again… until the room seemed to quake.

The mirror shattered.

Shards exploded outward, raining onto the counter, the floor, my arms. A jagged piece nicked my cheek, drawing a thin line of green that dripped down onto my trembling hand.

I didn’t care.

My reflection was gone—splintered into a thousand fractured pieces scattered at my feet.

My knees buckled, and I barely caught myself against the sink. My hands shivered, slipping on the porcelain.

I sank to the floor, my back pressed against the cold tile, knees pulled to my chest. My hands tangled in my snow-white hair as sobs wracked my body. Every shuddering breath felt like it might break me further.

The shards of glass caught the dim light, a kaleidoscope of chaos surrounding me, reflecting parts of me I couldn’t escape from.

I clutched my chest, my core still purring that discordant frequency—like a faint, mocking laugh echoing from deep within.

“I’m scared,” I whispered to—no one. My voice cracked. “I don’t want to become… him.”

My words dissolved into another sob as I curled tighter, the shattered mirror fragments glinting like stars against the dark void I felt, pulling me under.

“I will never turn into you.”

———————

Okay. First time I drew Dan. I was scared. Scared of those eyes. Those eyes that pierced the whole time into mine—no, through mine. I should’ve waited with his eyes until the end, but of course, I didn’t.

———————

⟢ You can find my Phan fics here.

[deepspacelxver]

Clingy Sylus

Sylus was always a bit clingy. Even before you two officially started dating he had always been more than enthusiastic to have you by his side. But now that you were official, his need to have you by his side was constant.

❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

You were sitting at your desk finishing some work when your phone buzzed. Checking the caller ID you saw that it was none other than your boyfriend, Sylus.

“Shouldn’t you be asleep right now? It’s too early for you to be getting into trouble.” You teased.

“You always seem to think I’m up to no good kitten. Have you ever thought that I might be calling because I miss you?” He taunts back.

“Still, you’re usually in bed by now. Don’t you think it’s a bit late to be missing me?” You say while putting away some folders.

“I could say the same about you. I thought we agreed on fixing your sleep schedule, no more work or coffee after 8 pm. And if I’m guessing I’d have to say you’ve broken both those rules by now. ”

You eye the empty mug on your desk then hop up out of your seat to look out the window.

“Have you been sending Mephisto to spy on me again? And don’t turn this around on me, we were talking about you!”

Sylus chuckles, “Don’t worry sweetie, I haven’t been spying much, I just know you too well.”

You roll your eyes silently. “Anyway back to what I was saying, why are you awake?”

Silence fills the room for a moment before Sylus quietly mumbles, “I can’t sleep… without you.”

You softened at his words, but quickly regained composure as you knew where this was heading. “Sy, you know I cant-“

“Please come over kitten, I miss you.” He pleaded into the phone.

“I have work tomorrow! I can’t miss it and you know that.” You scolded.

“Come on sweetie, just tonight? I promise I’ll make it worth your while.” You could practically see the smirk he had on his face.

While the thought of having Sylus hold and caress you in all sorts of place excited you, you had a special mission tomorrow and Captain Jenna would surely have your head if you called off work again.

“I’m sorry Sy, you know I’d love to but this mission is really important and-“

“How much?”

Confused you questioned, “What?”

“How much kitten? I’ll pay anything to get over here and by my side tonight.” He was on the edge now. “We don’t have to do anything, all I want is to hold you close next to me and I’ll pay any amount of money to make that happen.”

“You know I’m not some thing you can rent whenever you please right? I have my own schedule too!” You reproached, slightly offended at his offer to “buy” your time.

He sighed, “I’m sorry Sweetie, I only meant that I’d do absolutely anything to hold you in my arms for a few hours.”

Feeling guilty for your small outburst you apologized, “Of course, I’m sorry. But I just can’t make it tonight Sy…”

“Not even if I won you all those plushies you wanted from the claw machine?”

“Not even if you won me all those plushies” you laughed

Another defeated sigh could be heard through the other side. “Alright alright. Could you at least grant me the pleasure of staying on the phone until I fall asleep though?”

You chuckled lightly, “Of course Sylus.”

[kaiyunsim]

just a boy —

pairing : fuckboy!jay x gn!reader

summary : you meet jay at a party where you reject him after making a move… he likes it when they play hard to get.

warnings : angst, fluff, more angst than fluff tbh, uni au, reader is a freshman, jay is older, featuring heeseung + jake, jisung from nct, and minju from illit

a/n : omg fun to write is actually an understatement. i hope it turned out fun to read :) also for my pookie @writhyv

queueing : just a boy - alaina castillo,

— wc : 6.6 — not proof read —

you don't really care about parties. they're loud, crowded, and always filled with people trying too hard. but minju drags you along anyway, insisting that you need to "experience the university nightlife" at least once.

"come on, it'll be fun," she says, looping her arm through yours. "plus, jisung bailed on me, and i am not third-wheeling jake and his situationship all night."

so now you're here, standing awkwardly in the corner of a frat house, gripping a red solo cup filled with something that smells suspiciously like gasoline. minju is already off somewhere, talking to a girl from her english class, and you're left to watch as people dance, drink, and make questionable decisions.

"you look miserable," a voice says from beside you.

you turn and come face to face with park jongseong, jay, as everyone calls him. you know his name, even if you've never spoken before. he's older, popular, and has a reputation that follows him everywhere he goes.

flirt. player. fuckboy.

minju has warned you about him. "he's hot, yeah, but he's the kind of guy who doesn't do relationships. he flirts, hooks up, and moves on. trust me, i've seen it happen."

but none of that matters, because you have no plans to entertain him.

jay grins at you, leaning against the wall like he owns the place. he's got that easy confidence, the kind that comes with knowing he's attractive and that people want him.

"not a fan of parties?" he asks, tilting his head.

you shrug. "not really."

he chuckles. "then why are you here?"

"minju."

his eyebrows raise slightly. "you know minju?"

"from high school." you say, keeping your answers short.

"interesting," he muses, eyes scanning your face like he's trying to place you somewhere in his memory. he doesn't seem to recognize you, though, which isn't surprising. you've never exactly run in the same circles.

"so," he says, shifting closer. "wanna dance?"

it's not a question, not really. it's the kind of offer people don't usually refuse, not when it comes from him. jay park doesn't get turned down.

but you just blink at him and say, "no, thanks."

his smile falters, just for a second, before he recovers. "really? you sure? i promise i'm a good dancer."

"i'm sure." you say with a fake smile, giving off the vibe that you’re annoyed

he lets out a soft laugh, like he can't believe you're actually rejecting him. his ego must be bruised, but he hides it well, still looking at you with interest.

"alright," he says, stuffing his hands into his pockets. "then how about a drink? i can get you something better than… whatever that is." he nods at your cup.

"i'm good."

"wow," he murmurs, shaking his head in amusement. "you're really not making this easy for me, huh?"

"should i?"

he grins, running a hand through his dark hair. "most people do."

"well, i'm not most people."

jay studies you for a moment, like he's trying to figure out why you're different. why you're not reacting the way everyone else does. you don't bat your lashes at him, don't giggle or play into his flirting. and for some reason, instead of turning him away, it only seems to intrigue him more.

"i like you," he says suddenly.

you roll your eyes. "you don't even know me."

"not yet," he agrees, "but i’d like to."

there's something almost playful in his voice, but you know better. jay isn’t interested in getting to know people. he's interested in chasing, in winning. and right now, you’re just another game to him.

"keep liking me from a distance," you say, brushing past him.

you don’t look back, but you feel his eyes on you as you walk away.

for the first time in his life, park jongseong has been rejected. and somehow, you think that only makes him more determined.

—

you don't think much about your encounter with jay. to you, it was just another conversation at a party, one you barely wanted to be at in the first place.

but apparently, jay thinks otherwise.

it starts with small things.

you see him at the campus café, where he just so happens to show up right behind you in line.

"oh, hey," he says casually, as if running into you is pure coincidence.

you glance at him, unimpressed. "hey."

"what are you getting?"

you turn back to the menu. "haven't decided."

"let me guess," he hums, tapping a finger against his chin like he's solving some great mystery. "you seem like a caramel macchiato kind of person."

you raise a brow. "what does that even mean?"

jay grins, leaning in slightly. "sweet, but a little bitter if you get on their bad side."

"so basically, you're guessing."

"i call it an educated guess," he says, nodding at the cashier. "get one. my treat."

"no, thanks."

he lets out a dramatic sigh. "you really don't like accepting things from me, huh?"

"nope."

instead of looking discouraged, jay just watches as you place your order, an iced americano, completely different from what he guessed.

he chuckles. "so i was way off."

"yup."

you take your drink and leave without another word. jay doesn’t follow, but you swear you feel his stare on your back as you walk away.

it keeps happening.

and then, one afternoon, you’re sitting under a tree, trying to get through an assignment, when someone drops into the grass beside you.

"you always look so serious," jay muses.

you don’t even glance up. "because i'm trying to focus."

"right, right." he leans back on his hands. "but don't you ever take a break?"

"nope."

"come on," he nudges your knee with his. "five minutes won't kill you."

you sigh, finally looking at him. "do you need something?"

jay flashes you that same easy grin, the one that probably gets him whatever he wants. "just your company."

"i think you’ll survive without it."

he clutches his chest dramatically. "ouch. you wound me."

"you���ll live."

jay just laughs, shaking his head. "you know, you’re making this really difficult."

"making what difficult?"

"getting to know you."

"who said i wanted you to?"

he stares at you for a moment, eyes glinting with something unreadable. then, instead of answering, he stands up and dusts himself off.

"alright," he says, shoving his hands into his pockets. "guess i’ll try again tomorrow."

before you can process his words, he's already walking away.

"okay, what is going on?" minju asks a few days later, sliding into the seat across from you in the dining hall.

"what do you mean?"

she gestures dramatically. "you and jay. he keeps staring at you. he keeps showing up wherever you are."

"it's just a coincidence."

"coincidence my ass," she huffs. "he’s interested."

"interested in what? flirting with someone who doesn’t want to flirt back?"

"exactly!" minju exclaims. "he's never been rejected before! you’re like. like. his first loss."

"not a loss," you correct. "just… not a win."

"same thing in his mind." she leans in, eyes narrowing. "be honest. do you like him?"

you snort. "no."

"not even a little?"

"minju, he flirts with anything that breathes."

"true," she concedes, stabbing a piece of her salad. "but he’s never tried this hard before."

you roll your eyes. "and that’s exactly why i’m not interested. he only wants what he can’t have."

"so you think if you gave in, he’d lose interest?"

"obviously. but it’s not like i want him to be interested in the first place,”

but what you don’t see is jay, sitting at another table with jake and heeseung, watching you from across the room.

"so," heeseung says, "still trying?"

jay sips his drink, not looking away. "yup."

jake shakes his head, laughing. "dude, you're obsessed."

"i'm not obsessed," jay scoffs. "i'm just… interested."

heeseung raises a brow. "in what? winning?"

jay pauses. that should be the answer. that’s how it always is. he flirts, he wins, he moves on. but this time, it feels different.

"i dunno," he mutters, eyes still locked on you. "but i wanna find out."

and just like that, park jongseong makes it his mission to make you fall for him.

whether you want to or not.

—

you’re starting to think the universe has a cruel sense of humor.

there’s no other explanation for why jay park keeps showing up everywhere you go.

first, it’s the café… again. you stop by for your usual iced americano, and there he is, leaning against the counter like he has all the time in the world. when he sees you, his lips curl into a smirk.

"you stalking me now?" he teases.

you blink at him. "this is literally my usual spot."

"yeah?" he muses, stepping aside so you can order. "funny. seems like it’s mine now too."

you ignore him and pay for your drink, but as you turn to leave, he suddenly holds out a muffin. "here."

you frown. "what is this?"

"peace offering," he says. "for annoying you so much."

"i don't want it."

jay tuts, shaking his head. "harsh. you don’t like sweets?"

"i don’t like you."

he laughs, completely unbothered. "that’s not true. you just won’t admit you think i’m funny."

you roll your eyes and walk past him, but not before he calls out, "see you around!"

unfortunately, he’s right.

the second time, it’s the library.

you’re sitting at a table, halfway through an essay, when someone slides into the seat across from you.

you don’t need to look up. "seriously?"

jay rests his chin on his palm, grinning. "seriously."

"do you even study?"

"i do now." he gestures to his laptop, which, sure enough, is open.

you sigh and turn back to your work, ignoring him completely. for the first ten minutes, he’s quiet, and you start to think maybe—just maybe—he’s actually here to study.

but then he leans forward. "you always this focused?"

"yes."

"cute," he murmurs, just loud enough for you to hear.

you finally look at him, unimpressed. "why are you here?"

"what, a guy can’t expand his knowledge?"

"you haven’t typed a single word."

jay glances at his screen, where his essay is blank. he shrugs. "i’m thinking."

"about what?"

"about how long it’s gonna take for you to admit you like having me around."

you let out a slow breath, standing up and gathering your things. "good luck with that."

"where you going?"

"somewhere quiet."

jay watches you leave, the smirk never leaving his face.

you think that’s the end of it.

until your professor assigns a group project.

"you’ll be working in pairs," she says. "check the list for your partner."

you scan the names, looking for yours, and freeze.

park jongseong.

"you’ve got to be kidding me," you mutter.

"what?" minju asks, peering over your shoulder. then she snorts. "oh. wow. the universe really has it out for you."

you groan, dropping your head onto the desk.

"who’d you get?"

you glance up to see jisung standing beside you, holding his own paper.

"jay," minju answers for you.

jisung grimaces. "yikes."

"yep."

before you can say anything else, someone taps your shoulder.

"guess we’re partners," jay says, voice far too amused.

you sigh. "don’t remind me.”

—

working with jay is… not as painful as you expected.

you still don’t like him. obviously. but he’s not completely useless.

turns out, he’s actually smart. and organized. he doesn’t slack off or make you do all the work. and—annoyingly—he’s kind of funny.

you realize this when you’re both at the library, bouncing ideas off each other.

"okay, so we could go with this topic," you say, scrolling through the research.

jay hums. "or we could pick something that won’t make me want to throw myself off a building."

you bite back a smile. "dramatic much?"

"you’re underestimating my ability to get bored."

"i think that’s just your problem."

jay gasps, placing a hand over his chest. "ouch. i thought we were bonding."

"we’re working."

"same thing."

you shake your head, but you don’t argue.

slowly, things shift.

you still tell yourself that jay is just playing a game. but sometimes, you catch him looking at you—really looking—and for a moment, it doesn’t feel like one.

like when you’re at the library, and you yawn without thinking.

"tired?" he asks.

"obviously."

without a word, he slides his drink toward you.

you blink. "what—"

"it’s an americano," he says simply.

you hesitate, then take a sip. "it’s sweet."

jay shrugs. "i like sugar."

you give him a look. "so you were way off when you guessed my order last time."

he grins. "guess so."

you shake your head, but you don’t push the drink back.

—

"okay, so he’s not the worst person alive," you admit later.

minju stares at you. "who are you and what have you done with my friend?"

"i’m serious," you say. "he’s… fine. actually kind of helpful."

minju sighs. "that’s how it starts."

"how what starts?"

"you start thinking he’s not that bad. then, before you know it, you’re catching feelings."

"i’m not catching anything."

she gives you a look. "just be careful, okay? he’s only this persistent because you’re the first person to say no."

you nod, but her words stick in your head.

you tell yourself you don’t care.

but then one night, you’re leaving the library, and jay is waiting outside.

"walking alone at this hour?" he muses. "dangerous."

you raise an eyebrow. "and you’re what? my bodyguard?"

jay smirks. "i could be."

"no thanks."

"still," he says, falling into step beside you. "i’ll walk you back."

"you don’t have to."

"i know."

you sigh, but you let him.

the walk is quiet, save for the sound of your footsteps. when you reach your building, you stop.

"this is me," you say.

jay nods. "guess i’ll see you tomorrow."

"guess so."

he hesitates, then lifts a hand, ruffling your hair before you can react.

you blink. "what the—"

he just grins. "goodnight."

then he’s gone, leaving you standing there, heart doing something it definitely shouldn’t be doing.

this is bad.

really bad.

—

the next party is loud, too loud. music shakes the floor, conversations overlap, and the air is thick with the scent of alcohol and sweat. you don’t even know why you’re here.

well. you do.

minju dragged you out, saying you’ve been too cooped up with schoolwork and your stupid group project (which, unfortunately, includes jay park). jisung backed her up, insisting you needed to “socialize like a normal human being.”

so now you’re here, standing in the corner of someone’s crowded apartment, gripping a half-empty cup of soda because you don’t drink, and pretending you’re interested in whatever minju is talking about.

until you see him.

jay.

you tell yourself you shouldn’t be surprised. parties are his thing, after all. loud music, dim lighting, a sea of people who’d fall into his arms without hesitation.

he fits right in.

too well.

you spot him across the room, leaning against the wall, that lazy smirk on his lips. there’s a girl beside him, standing too close, laughing at something he just said. she tilts her head, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. jay doesn’t move away.

he says something else, something that makes her giggle, and then he leans in,,, just a little.

your stomach twists.

it’s stupid. so, so stupid.

this is what he does. this is who he is. he flirts with everyone. you’ve seen it before. you knew this about him before he even knew your name.

but tonight, it bothers you.

you don’t know why, and you don’t want to think about it.

"you okay?" minju asks, nudging your arm.

"yeah," you say too quickly. "just… tired."

she eyes you but doesn’t press. "wanna leave soon?"

you nod. "yeah."

but before you can say anything else, you feel a presence beside you.

"hey," a familiar voice says.

you turn, and there he is.

jay.

his smirk is gone.

"what do you want?" you ask, not in the mood for whatever game he’s playing tonight.

he hesitates, glancing at minju, then back at you. "can we talk?"

"no."

he sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. "please?"

minju looks between the two of you, then slowly backs away. "i’ll be over there," she says, pointing to jisung.

you cross your arms. "what?"

jay doesn’t answer right away. instead, he exhales, then jerks his head toward the door. "outside?"

you should say no. you should walk away. but there’s something in his eyes, something that makes your chest feel too tight, so you follow him out.

the cool night air is a relief against your heated skin. outside, the noise is muffled, distant, like the party belongs to a different world.

you stop a few steps away from the door, crossing your arms. "well?"

jay shoves his hands into his pockets. "you looked upset."

you scoff. "why do you care?"

"because," he says, stepping closer, "i do."

you laugh, but it’s humorless. "you flirt with someone else, then come running after me? what is this, jay?"

his jaw tightens. "it’s not like that."

"really? because it sure as hell looked like it."

"you think i do this with everyone?" his voice is sharper now, frustration leaking through. "yeah, i flirt, but this,whatever this is, is different, and you know it."

your breath catches.

different.

he said it first.

but that doesn’t change anything.

"do i?" you challenge. "because it looks exactly the same to me."

jay groans, running a hand through his hair. "i didn’t even realize what i was doing."

"that’s not making this better."

"i know!" he snaps. "i just—fuck."

he exhales, tilting his head back like he’s trying to find the right words in the sky. then, softer, he says, "it’s a habit, okay? flirting, keeping things surface-level. that’s just how i’ve always been."

you swallow, suddenly unsure. "then why are you here?"

jay takes another step forward, close enough that you can see the tension in his shoulders, the crease in his brows.

"because i don’t want this to be surface-level," he admits. "not with you."

the words knock the air out of your lungs.

for a moment, neither of you speak.

then you say, "so what? you want me to believe that you’re suddenly different?"

"i don’t know," he admits. "but i know i don’t want to fuck this up."

you stare at him, at the raw honesty in his expression.

this is dangerous territory.

you should walk away.

you don’t.

but then you think about that girl inside, the way he leaned in so easily, the way it took him this long to come after you.

"you say that," you murmur, voice quieter now, "but you still went back to your usual thing the second i wasn’t around."

jay flinches.

"it didn’t mean anything," he says, quickly, desperately. "i wasn’t even thinking about her."

"exactly," you say bitterly. "you weren’t thinking at all."

jay opens his mouth, then closes it.

"you don’t even realize what you’re doing," you continue, voice tight. "you don’t realize how easily you slip into old habits. you say this is different, but are you sure?"

"yes," jay says, without hesitation.

you laugh, but it’s broken. "then why do i feel like i’m just setting myself up to get hurt?"

he doesn’t have an answer for that.

silence stretches between you, heavy and suffocating.

jay looks like he wants to say something, to fix this somehow, but what is there to fix? he’s still the same jay park who flirts with everyone, who doesn’t think before he acts, who only realizes too late that he might actually care.

"you’re not ready for this," you whisper.

"i am," he insists, but there’s something fragile in his voice, something that tells you even he isn’t sure if he’s telling the truth.

you shake your head. "i don’t think you are."

jay reaches out, just a little, like he wants to touch you, like he wants you to stay.

but you step back.

his hand drops.

and with that, you turn around and walk away.

jay doesn’t call after you.

he doesn’t chase you this time.

and maybe that tells you everything you need to know.

—

you avoid him.

it’s not hard at first. you’re in different years, different circles. you stop going to the café where you know he likes to hang out between classes, ignore the parties minju tries to drag you to, and duck your head whenever you spot him on campus.

the only problem is that jay notices.

you’re not sure when it happens, but at some point, jay park—fuckboy, campus heartbreaker, the guy who shouldn’t care—is suddenly watching you.

you feel it in the way his eyes linger too long when you pass by in the hallway, in the way his conversations falter when you’re around, in the way his whole demeanor shifts whenever you deliberately turn away.

he doesn’t chase after you.

but he’s not ignoring it, either.

and that’s what makes it worse.

it would be easier if he didn’t care, if he went right back to flirting with someone else like nothing ever happened. but he doesn’t.

and that terrifies you.

so you run faster.

"okay, what is wrong with you?"

jay exhales sharply, gripping the pool cue tighter. "nothing."

"bullshit."

heeseung snatches the stick out of his hands before he can even attempt a shot. jay scowls, reaching for it, but heeseung just leans away.

"bro, you’ve been in the worst mood for, like, a week," jake says, spinning an unmarked beer bottle between his fingers. "just admit it."

jay glares. "admit what?"

heeseung rolls his eyes. "that you’re being a little bitch about this whole thing."

jay scoffs. "about what?"

"oh my god," jake groans. "are you in denial, or just stupid?"

jay clenches his jaw. "neither."

heeseung and jake share a look, and jay hates that they’re silently communicating in that annoying, knowing way that only best friends do.

"listen," heeseung starts, "you don’t do feelings. we get it. but this? whatever’s happening between you and—"

"don’t say their name," jay mutters, looking away.

heeseung smirks. "oh, so you do care?"

jay exhales, tilting his head back against the worn leather of the booth.

fuck.

he doesn’t know what this is.

he just knows that it sucks.

he didn’t think avoiding them would be a big deal. people walk away from him all the time, sometimes before he can even do it first.

but this?

this feels different.

it feels like something is missing. like something is slipping through his fingers and he’s too fucking slow to catch it.

"you don’t even like people," jake points out.

jay sighs. "i like you guys."

"yeah, but we don’t count," heeseung snorts. "we’re basically required to deal with your bullshit."

jay scoffs, shoving his shoulder, but heeseung just grins.

then, quieter, he says, "this is the first time you’ve actually looked miserable over someone."

jay doesn’t answer.

"so what are you gonna do about it?" jake asks.

jay exhales, drumming his fingers against the table.

he doesn’t know.

but he knows he can’t keep pretending this is nothing.

not anymore.

—

you don’t know why you look.

it’s just a normal afternoon. you’re heading toward the library, minju walking beside you, talking about something jisung said earlier.

and then you see him.

jay is standing near the campus courtyard, golden light catching the sharp edges of his jawline. he’s not alone.

there’s a girl with him. she’s standing close—too close. her hand is on his arm, fingers curling lightly around the sleeve of his jacket. she laughs at something he says, head tilting, eyes locked on his.

and jay?

jay just smiles.

it’s the same smile you’ve seen before, the same effortless charm, the same easy confidence that has made him a campus legend. he leans in slightly, talking low, his posture relaxed like he’s done this a thousand times.

because he has.

your chest tightens.

"hey, you okay?" minju asks beside you, nudging your arm.

you snap your gaze away, pulse quickening. you shouldn’t care. you knew what he was like before you even met him. you knew he flirted with anyone he found attractive, that he never had to try, that he never faced rejection.

you knew he was never meant to be serious.

so why does it feel like something inside you is caving in?

"yeah," you mumble. "just remembered something i have to do."

minju frowns, but you don’t give her a chance to question it. before she can say anything, you turn and walk the other way, ignoring the burning feeling in your chest.

you don’t look back.

and jay doesn’t notice you leaving.

yet, jay can tell something’s wrong.

he doesn’t know what it is, but he can feel it.

it’s in the way you won’t look at him, the way you walk past him like he’s just another face in the crowd.

at first, he thinks he’s imagining it. you were never friends to begin with—maybe you were just busy, maybe this is normal.

but the shift is undeniable.

before, you’d at least acknowledge him. you’d give him a polite nod, a passing glance, sometimes even a subtle eyeroll when you caught him flirting.

now?

nothing.

he sees you on campus, and you don’t even flinch.

he walks past your usual café, and you’re not there.

he catches you in the library and for a second. just a second. he swears you meet his gaze.

but then you turn away.

like he’s not even there.

he doesn’t plan to confront you.

but after a week of this, of whatever this is, he finds himself standing outside your dorm, hands shoved in his pockets, frustration bubbling under his skin.

he doesn’t even know why he’s here.

it’s not like you owe him anything.

but still, he knocks.

no answer.

he exhales sharply, rocking back on his heels, debating whether to try again.

then, he hears footsteps.

"what are you doing here?"

jay turns, finding jisung standing a few feet away, arms crossed.

"looking for y/n," jay says. "they’ve been… acting weird."

jisung raises an eyebrow. "and you just noticed?"

jay frowns. "what’s that supposed to mean?"

jisung exhales, shaking his head. "they saw you," he says simply.

jay’s stomach tightens. "...what?"

"the other day. in the courtyard. with that girl."

jay blinks, the memory slotting into place. shit.

"they saw you smiling at her," jisung continues, his voice even but firm. "letting her touch you. looking at her the way they thought—" he stops himself, sighing. "never mind."

jay’s pulse kicks up. "you think they—"

"they think they were stupid for believing you might actually be different with them," jisung cuts in, sharper now. "they think they almost fell for the same bullshit you pull on everyone else."

jay clenches his jaw.

fuck.

he wasn’t thinking. he didn’t even realize.

but now, remembering the moment, the way the girl had laughed, the way she had leaned in, the way he hadn’t pulled away—

he understands.

and it feels like he just lost something important without even knowing he had it.

"if you’re gonna say something, make it worth their time," jisung says. "because right now? they don’t want anything to do with you."

jay doesn’t answer.

because for the first time in his life, he’s the one who got it wrong.

he’s the one who let something real slip through his fingers.

and he has no idea how to fix it.

but he knows one thing—

he has to try.

—

you don’t expect him to be waiting for you.

it’s late. you just finished a study session with minju, and all you want is to go back to your dorm, crawl under the covers, and forget about everything—forget about him.

but as soon as you step into the dimly lit hallway leading to your room, you see him.

jay.

leaning against the wall, hands in his pockets, jaw tight, eyes dark with something unreadable.

your heart stutters.

you hesitate, debating whether to turn around, pretend you didn’t see him. but then he looks up—really looks at you—and you know there’s no escape.

"we need to talk," he says, pushing off the wall.

fuck jisung for letting him in.

"i don’t think we do," you mutter, stepping past him, reaching for your door.

but before you can, jay moves, his hand catching your wrist—gently, cautiously, like he’s afraid you’ll pull away.

"please," he says.

you freeze.

he’s never said please before. at least, not like this. not as desperate as this.

slowly, you turn to face him, sighing. "jay—"

"just let me say this," he cuts in, eyes burning with something raw, something you’ve never seen on him before. desperation.

you press your lips together but nod.

jay exhales, running a hand through his hair. "i—fuck, i don’t know how to do this," he mutters, shaking his head. "i’m not good at this."

"then don’t," you say, voice sharper than you intended. "don’t stand here and feed me some excuse about how you 'don’t do relationships' or 'didn’t mean to hurt me.' i don’t want to hear it."

jay flinches. "that’s not what i was gonna say."

you cross your arms. "then what?"

he swallows hard, eyes flickering to the floor before meeting yours again. "i—i don’t know how to do this, because i’ve never felt like this before."

your breath catches.

"i didn’t even realize what i was doing," jay continues, voice quieter now. "i didn’t think. i’ve never had to. flirting, messing around—it’s just… easy. but you—" he exhales sharply. "you make things different."

you shake your head. "jay—"

"i don’t want anyone else," he interrupts, stepping closer, voice steady. "just you."

your chest tightens.

"and when you get bored?" you ask, voice barely above a whisper. "when someone new comes along?"

jay shakes his head immediately. "i don’t think i could ever get bored of you."

it’s too much.

too much to believe, too much to trust, too much to risk.

"how am i supposed to believe that?" you ask, eyes searching his face. "how am i supposed to believe you won’t wake up one day and decide i was just another name on your list?"

jay exhales, stepping even closer, until there’s barely any space between you. "because no one’s ever made me feel like this before."

your pulse is loud in your ears.

"i don’t know how to do relationships," he admits, voice low, honest. "i don’t know how to be what you deserve. but i want to try. i want to figure it out—with you."

he’s so close now. close enough that you can smell the faint scent of his cologne, close enough that you can see the hesitation in his eyes, the fear of being rejected, of losing you.

you shouldn’t.

you should walk away.

you should protect yourself, guard your heart, not fall for the one person who could break you the easiest.

but then jay reaches up, fingers brushing against your cheek, his touch hesitant, almost trembling.

"please," he murmurs, his voice almost breaking.

jay park—unshakable, confident, the fuckboy—is breaking in front of you.

and against all logic, all reason—you fall.

before you can think, before you can stop yourself, you close the space between you.

his breath catches, just for a second, before his lips press against yours, warm and desperate.

jay kisses you like he’s afraid you’ll disappear, like he’s trying to prove every word he just said. his hands cup your face, pulling you closer, holding you like you’re something fragile—something precious.

and when you kiss him back, letting yourself believe—just for this moment—that maybe, just maybe, this could be real, he sighs against your lips, like he’s just found something he’s been searching for all along.

—

your relationship with jay park is different.

you knew it wouldn’t be easy, falling for someone who never had to try, who never had to work for love. but you never expected this.

never expected him to try so hard.

at first, it’s awkward. jay doesn’t know what he’s doing. he’s used to effortless flirting, meaningless hookups, relationships that start and end in the span of a night.

but with you?

he wants to be better. he wants to be different.

so he does things he’s never done before.

he waits for you after class, leaning against the wall with his hands in his pockets, eyes lighting up when he sees you.

"did you eat?" he asks one day, falling into step beside you.

you blink. "uh… yeah?"

jay nods, looking relieved. "okay. cool. just—yeah. cool."

he’s awkward. jay park, campus fuckboy, the smooth talker who never falters, is awkward.

you bite back a smile. "did you eat?"

he hesitates.

you raise an eyebrow. "jay."

he clears his throat. "…no."

you sigh, grabbing his sleeve and dragging him toward the campus café. he lets you, grinning like you just gave him the world.

the first time he reaches for your hand, it’s so casual that you almost miss it.

you’re sitting next to each other, watching a movie in the dorm common room. your hand rests between you, fingers brushing against his.

then, slowly, hesitantly, jay links his pinky with yours.

your heart stutters.

you glance at him, but he’s staring straight at the screen, his jaw tight, his ears slightly red.

you bite your lip.

then, without a word, you let your fingers slip fully into his.

jay stiffens for half a second. then, his grip tightens, and he exhales, shoulders relaxing.

he doesn’t let go for the rest of the movie.

he’s not used to jealousy.

or rather, he’s not used to his own jealousy.

he’s seen people get possessive over him before, watched girls glare when he flirted with someone new, felt the heat of their disappointment when they realized he wasn’t theirs.

but now?

now he understands.

he understands because he’s standing in the middle of campus, watching some guy—some random guy—smile at you like he has a chance.

and jay hates it.

he crosses the distance before he can think, sliding an arm around your waist, pulling you flush against his side.

"hey, baby," he murmurs, voice low, casual, possessive.

your eyes widen. "jay?"

"who’s this?" jay asks, looking at the guy.

the guy blinks, glancing between the two of you. "uh, just—just a classmate."

jay smiles, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. "cool. yeah. we gotta go, though."

you barely have time to say goodbye before jay is leading you away, his grip firm but gentle.

once you’re out of earshot, you elbow him. "what was that?"

jay shrugs. "didn’t like the way he was looking at you."

you roll your eyes. "you can’t just—"

he stops walking, turning to face you, eyes serious. "i know i don’t have the right," he admits. "but i don’t like it. i don’t like the idea of someone else thinking they can have you."

your breath catches.

"you’re mine," jay says, voice softer now. "right?"

you stare at him for a moment.

then, finally, you sigh, reaching up to flick his forehead.

"yeah," you mutter. "i’m yours."

jay grins, rubbing his forehead. "damn right."

heeseung and jake pretend to be disgusted.

"you’re whipped," jake says, shaking his head.

"nah, man, this is worse than we thought," heeseung adds. "he’s holding hands in public."

jay glares at them from across the table, but he doesn’t let go of your hand.

"you guys are just mad i have a functional love life," he says.

jake snorts. "yeah, sure. functional."

"bet he calls them ‘baby’ over text," heeseung whispers loudly.

jake gasps. "you think he—"

"shut up," jay groans.

you’re trying not to laugh. "do you?"

jay glares at you, but his ears are red. "i hate you."

you grin. "you love me."

jay rolls his eyes.

but then, under the table, he gives your hand a squeeze.

and you know—

even if he’ll never admit it out loud—

he really does.

—

you constantly look back and don’t know when you started believing him.

maybe it was the first time he held your hand without thinking, his fingers curling around yours so naturally, like he didn’t need to pretend anymore.

or maybe it was when he let you steal his hoodie, even though you were sure he’d never let anyone do that before.

or maybe—just maybe—it was when you saw the way he looked at you.

because it’s different now.

jay park, the guy who used to flirt with anyone just for fun, the guy who never stuck around, only looks at you.

"okay, but seriously," jake says, pointing a fry at jay. "how the hell did this happen?"

you’re sitting in the corner booth of a diner near campus, squeezed between jay and the wall. heeseung and jake are across from you, both staring like you’re some kind of unsolvable mystery.

jay takes a slow sip of his drink. "what do you mean?"

"you!" heeseung gestures wildly. "relationship jay. committed jay. ‘not flirting with every breathing human’ jay."

"it’s called growth," jay deadpans.

"it’s called ‘i fell first, and i fell hard,’" jake teases, smirking.

jay huffs. "whatever, man."

but he doesn’t deny it.

heeseung leans forward, grinning. "okay, but who confessed first?"

jay opens his mouth—

"me, obviously," you interrupt.

jay’s head snaps toward you. "what?"

you shrug. "you’re a coward. took you forever to admit you liked me."

jake laughs. "ohhh, he got you there."

jay glares at you, but you just smile, nudging his foot under the table.

you laugh, “joking, it’s complicated.”

heeseung rests his chin in his palm. "man, i never thought i’d see the day."

"what day?" you ask, amused.

"the day jay park became a simp."

jay groans, burying his face in his hands. "i hate all of you."

you pat his arm. "no, you don’t."

he exhales, tilting his head to look at you. his eyes soften.

"yeah," he murmurs. "i don’t."

—

later that night, after jay walks you back to your dorm, you linger outside the door.

he doesn’t leave right away.

instead, he leans against the wall, hands in his pockets, just looking at you.

you tilt your head. "what?"

jay hesitates, then exhales sharply.

"it’s weird," he mutters. "this whole time, i thought i had everything figured out. i thought i knew what i wanted. but then you came along, and suddenly, nothing made sense anymore."

your chest tightens.

"i didn’t get it at first," jay continues, eyes flickering to the ground. "why i got so annoyed when you ignored me. why i kept looking for you in every room. why i couldn’t flirt with anyone else without feeling like it was wrong."

he finally meets your gaze.

"but now i do."

your fingers tighten around the door handle, heartbeat loud in your ears.

"i don’t want to be the guy i was before," he murmurs. "not with you."

you swallow. "jay—"

"i know i’m not good at this," he cuts in. "i know i’m gonna mess up. i know i don��t deserve you."

his voice drops lower, almost hesitant. almost afraid.

"but i want to try. and i want you to let me."

for a moment, neither of you speak.

then, finally—

you sigh, shaking your head. "god, you’re such an idiot."

jay blinks. "huh?"

you step forward, grabbing the collar of his hoodie and pulling him down until your foreheads touch.

"you’ve had me this whole time," you murmur.

jay’s breath stutters.

then, slowly—hesitantly—his arms wrap around you, holding you against him, warm and real.

"yeah?" he whispers.

you nod. "yeah."

jay exhales a shaky laugh, squeezing you tighter.

"thank god," he mutters. "i don’t think i could’ve handled losing you."

you smile against his shoulder.

neither could you.

[thefreakandthehair]

ornament.

written for @steddieholidaydrabbles | prompts: ornament | wc: 999 | rating: teen & up | tags: eddie pov, eddie munson has a crush on steve harrington, the party, steve's nuggets (+ friends) love him so much, fluff, tree decorating, getting together

Eddie’s sitting on the couch with sweaty palms between Nancy and Steve with Robin to Steve’s right while the kids, including Will and El who’ve moved back to Indiana permanently, sit in a poorly constructed circle near the Christmas tree. 

The tree Steve hates. 

The reason Eddie’s palms are sweating. 

“I just hate this thing,” Steve had sighed as he flicked on the pre-lit white lights. “When I was a kid, I’d beg for the colored lights and when I’d make ornaments in school, mom would give me this polite smile and then I’d never see them on the tree anywhere. It’s always these stupid red and silver bulbs.”

It hadn’t taken much for Eddie to rally their friends and host an ornament painting party, everyone crammed into his trailer under threat of death if they blew the surprise, but now that’s it’s here, Eddie kind of wants to run and hide. 

What if he hates it? What if he thinks it’s stupid? 

Nancy knocks a knee against his and raises her eyebrows with a quiet smirk. Eddie nods, just one quick jerk of his chin, as his heart clatters in his chest and Nancy excuses herself. It’s telling, probably, that Eddie couldn’t keep the box of ornaments at his trailer because Steve spends too much there with him but Eddie’s too busy wiping his palms on the rough denim of his jeans to unpack that at the moment. 

“Where’s she going?” Steve asks. 

“We don’t need permission to go to the bathroom, do we?” Robin teases, uncharacteristically smooth in her distraction. 

Steve’s too busy needling her back to realize the front door opens and shuts, at least until Nancy comes back in with the shoebox she’d helped Eddie wrap.

“Oh my God, yes!” Dustin pipes up, spotting Nancy and whacking Lucas on the back. “Look!” 

“What—” Steve looks around in confusion, mainly down at the box that’s plopped in his lap. “What’s happening?” 

“Tell him, Eddie!” Max grins at Eddie, always a little too smart and observant for her own good. Or Eddie’s, for that matter. 

“Uh,” he stutters. “Well, we wanted to do something I guess, special? For you? It’s really nothing big but—”

“Will you stop underselling it?” Robin laughs. “It took me days to get that paint off my fingers. It was a big thing!” 

“Paint? What are you talking about?” Steve asks again, huffing. “None of your presents are ready yet, so we can put this under the tree or something and then—”

“Nope, you need this before Christmas. That’s the whole point,” Nancy chides, sitting back down next to Eddie. “Right, Eddie?”

“Yeah,” he nods, meeting Steve’s eyes with a blistering vulnerability he’s sure Steve can see, can maybe even feel with his thigh pressed against Eddie’s. “You should open it.” 

“Alright, alright,” Steve agrees, sliding a finger beneath the neatly folded paper, peeling back the tape and tossing the wrapping paper to the ground. “Did you guys get me new shoes?” 

“Just open it!” Robin snorts beside him and elbows him gently in the stomach. 

Eddie holds his breath and hopes he doesn’t pass out as Steve lifts the lid and finds the handmade ornaments carefully placed in the box. 

On top of strands of multi-colored lights sit a dozen ornaments with tiny hooks ready to be hung on branches. Lucas’ sits on top, painted to look like a basketball. Max’s is made to look like the nail bat he’d once used to save her life. Robin’s is an ice cream scoop with an anchor painted dead center. Dustin’s looks like a can of hairspray which Eddie still doesn’t completely understand but Dustin assured him that Steve would get it. Jonathan and Argyle’s pizza ornament, mailed from California. One after another, Steve pulls out ornament after ornament with splotchy paint by the people who love Steve more than they’ll ever begin to express. 

It’s silent and loud all at once as Eddie watches Steve pick each one up and run his fingers along the imperfections, pausing to pinch the bridge of his nose before he speaks. 

“You… you guys make these?” Steve finally asks; soft, hushed. 

“We did!” El offers with a cheery smile. “It was Eddie’s idea.” 

“Holy shit, this is…” Steve whips over to Eddie, and any nerves he has disappear. He can’t possibly hate it, can’t possibly think it’s stupid when he’s smiling ear to ear, his nose wrinkling from the force of it before he chokes out a laugh that sounds almost like a sob. “Thank you.”

Eddie swallows and feels the heat creeping from beneath his jacket collar. He shrugs and bumps their shoulders together, nods at the kids across the room. “They’re all such great little artists, aren’t they?”

He doesn’t speak for long seconds, staring directly at Eddie until Max, menace that she is, speaks up. 

“You guys can kiss after, okay? Can we decorate the tree now?” 

Oh, she’s never getting a ride to school from him again. 

“Okay, everyone come grab an ornament!” Robin claps her hands together and pats Steve on the back, winking at Eddie as she stands up. 

Neither Eddie nor Steve move.

At least, not until the kids have their backs turned with Robin and Nancy trying their hardest to wrangle the kids into wrapping the lights around the tree. Steve leans over, Eddie’s impression of the vest he’d once thrown at Steve— the same vest that tethered Eddie to life as he’d gripped it with bloody fingers while Steve carried him out of the Upside Down— resting in his palm. 

“You’re incredible, you know that?” Steve whispers, the back of his hand landing on Eddie’s thigh. “Seriously. I can’t tell you… this means a lot, man.” 

“They love you, Harrington,” Eddie tries for subtlety but that’s never been his strong suit. “We all do.”

“C’mon,” Steve nods at the tree, his smile reaching his eyes. “The quicker we get this done, the quicker we can prove Max right.” 

[bunni-v1]

Requesting for a scenario with my best boys Lighter and Harumasa(feel free to add more if you want)<3 where reader tries to Kabedon them to try to fluster them!!

I feel like it’d work with Harumasa but Lighter will only be slightly flustered before somehow turning it around and it ends up with him pinning us somehow

Kabedon…

🍓I’m gonna be so fr, I hate Kabedon. That shit makes me cringe so incredibly hard UNLESS it’s like ur getting scolded or smth. Then it’s super fuckinf hot. I’ll give these a try though, it’s too classic to pass up on lol. These are short.

Tw: None

Info: Lighter x Reader; Harumasa x Reader; Fluff; Headcannons

Lighter Lorenz

-I’m gonna hold your hand gently and tell you this, but good luck doing this to him.

-It’s not like he’d hurt you or anything, but Lighter is big. He’s big and tall and very very hard to catch off guard. You’d have to conspire to get this done.

-Lucky you Burnice lives for causing chaos. It was probably her idea, honestly. The idea of Lighter all flustered as you pin him to the wall was too funny for her to pass up!

-With the right distractions and timing, you can easily press Lighter up against the wall with a big smirk. One arm next to his head, the other pressed against his cheek.

-You honestly didn’t expect much of a reaction out of him, but the tips of his ears turn a bright cherry red. He’s positively adorable!

-Unfortunately, you don’t have a plan after that. So you and Lighter are stood there staring at each other, faces getting incredibly hot the longer you’re pressed against him. (You can hear Burnice giggling in the background, but it’s hard to pay attention to when you have the hottest guy in blazewood under you.)

-Eventually he clears his throat and gives you this halfhearted smirk, trying to play it cool like you hadn’t just defeated him in one fell swoop.

-“Aren’t you bold?” He’ll purr, a little shaky, “If you wanted to hold me close, all you had to do was ask.”

-Ah, he was smooth.

Asaba Harumasa

-I’d argue that Harumasa is a pretty tough person to fluster, at least outwardly. He’s got a solid foundation and plenty of confidence in himself, so word play and flirting just doesn’t work on him. (Not with the silver tongue of his, at least.)

-If you wanted to see Harumasa flush, you’d have to do something more extreme. Something that he couldn’t easily flip the script around on you with.

-Obviously you picked the Kabedon. It’s a classic, and even if it doesn’t work, Harumasa would take it in stride anyway. That’s just the kind of guy he was, after all.

-You wait until he’s already resting near a wall, not wanting to take him by too much surprise. He was still a trained agent, if you spooked him too much he might just throw you across the room.

-He sees you coming from a mile away, of course, but humors you because he thinks you’re cute when you’re scheming. He does not, however, expect you to press him up against the wall with a victorious smirk.

-It certainly does fluster him, for all of five seconds, then he’s smiling that award winning smile and pressing his face closer to yours. “Aren’t you confident? Did you really think this would work on me?”

-He won’t tell you, but it definitely does work. A little too well if he’s honest, his heart rate skyrocketed so high he’s surprised he didn’t keel over and die right there.

-You’ll pout at him, foiled yet again by his cool demeanor. It’s really a shame that you have no idea how much of an effect you’ve got on that heart of his. You’re way too cute for your own good, don’t you know?

[seokgyuu]

your boyfriend has been telling you he wants to bring someone else into the bedroom for a while. the thought only started to sound good when a certain boyfriend's best friend posts gym pictures on insta.

pairing: sung hanbin x fem!reader x seok matthew

genre: established relationship (hanbin x fem!reader) , smut MDNI!

smut warnings: cuckold, thigh riding, blowjobs, penetrative sex, dirty talk, usage of the words "princess", "baby", unprotected sex, creampie

wordcount: 4.4k

a/n: happy happy birthday @cheolism!!!!! see, i told you i would whip something up!! you probably didn't believe me, did you? ha! got you there. anyway. happiest birthday, my dear! i hope you enjoy this little piece of filth i made in your honour. one turns 22 only once you know!! in german we say: Schnappszahl! i love you loads, babes, have a wonderful day <3 (ps. it's been your birthday in germany for one hour already so theoretically i am not posting early!!)

“When did Matthew start working out like this?” 

You’re laying on your stomach on Hanbin’s bed, biting down on your thumbnail. 

“Like… a month ago? He’s been going to the gym forever, but only recently going every day.”

You nod. Yeah, he definitely looks like he hits the gym every day. Gosh, you still remember him as a small (he’s still relatively small), lanky pre-teen with braces and glasses that were too big for his face. None of that is left. Glasses are ditched unless he’s at home playing video games for no one to see. Braces have been gone a long time, leaving him with two rows of perfectly straight white teeth. And last but not least the lankiness has turned into buffness you couldn’t stop staring at on your phone.

“Why do you ask?” Hanbin now rolls over with his chair, eyebrows raised as he looks at your phone screen. You’re not quick enough to move, leading Hanbin to snicker as he places his legs on top of his bed, arms crossed.

“I can explain,” you say now, sitting up, but your boyfriend just grins at you.

“Can you now, princess?” He tilts his head and you bite your lip, suddenly forgetting all the explanations you could possibly come up with. You know your boyfriend - he isn’t the jealous type. If anything… he is the opposite. How many nights had he whispered into your ear that he would love to watch you get fucked by someone else, how he got hard just imagining you on someone else’s cock. All you had done when he said that was turn bright red and let him fuck you senseless after - with his own cock, not anyone else’s. 

And now, here you are. Looking at pictures of his best friend (really? out of everyone it had to be Hanbin’s best fucking friend?!) with Hanbin’s eyes sparkling mischievously. It’s obvious what he’s thinking. You clear your throat.

“I don’t- I don’t think you want him to get involved, do you?” You ask carefully and Hanbin leans forward now, smiling.

“Why not? Because he’s been my best friend for years?” He wants to know. When you nod, Hanbin climbs onto the bed, catching you off guard when he wraps his arms around you and brings his lips to your forehead, kissing it softly before looking down at you with yet another one of his beautiful smiles.

“I don’t think there is anyone I’d rather see you getting fucked by, my love.” He says it in such a soft and innocent tone, you can’t help but laugh, burying your head in his chest.

“You’re horrible,” you mumble and Hanbin laughs, bringing one of his hands to the back of your head, patting it lovingly. 

“I love you, you know that right? And if you’re really interested in Matt… I am sure I could arrange something.”

The thing is: you say no. Because why would you want to sleep with someone else when you have your perfect boyfriend right there? Your perfect boyfriend that has always cared more about your pleasure than his? That has made you cum more times than you can count? That perfect boyfriend that has never once let you down. 

You’re in the cafeteria with your bottle of water and a tray full of food but you can’t eat. Your leg is bouncing up and down and your eyes are focused on one of the trash cans at the far end of the room. Not because they are particularly interesting, but because Matthew sat down just a few tables further from you in nothing but a flimsy muscle shirt and ripped jeans and you really, really can’t look at him. So, the trash can it is. 

“Did you see a ghost?” Hao is suddenly next to you, making you flinch and almost knock over the bottle of water.

“Jesus Christ, Hao, next time whistle or something,” you say, frowning at your friend who just shrugs and instead begins eating his food. 

“You didn’t answer my question. Why do you look like you’ve seen a ghost? Is the cafeteria poltergeist back?” 

“What? No. No, I am fine. Totally fine. No ghosts.” You clear your throat and catch yourself sneaking a glance at Matthew after all, regretting it immediately. Because why is he flexing right then and there, laughing his cute laugh after when Gyuvin throws a napkin at him. This is torture. 

“Ah, right. Matthew,” Hao nods and your head swirls around, eyes wide. 

“Matthew, what?” You ask even though you already know. God fucking dammit Sung Hanbin! 

“Bin told me,” Hao confirms and you roll your eyes with a groan, “even though I was kind of offended you didn’t want me to be the first to join you two in the bedroom, Y/N.”

“If I were to ever let that happen I’d be single and you and Hanbin happily married with seven children in no time,” you mumble and Hao chuckles, shaking his head and pulling a hand through his hair.

“At least you’re aware I’m actually his favorite,” he hums at you and the desire to copy Gyuvin and throw a napkin at your friend is extremely tempting. 

“Whatever.” You try to focus back on your food, but your stomach is rumbling and your brain is somewhere totally different, meaning hunger was the last thing on your mind - at least hunger for actual food. 

Hao snickers and watches you, a piece of meat landing on his tongue.

“I think you should do it, Y/N. Hanbin has been dreaming of this moment. Honestly, no idea what he finds so appealing about watching his girlfriend getting fucked by another man, but believe me, you’d make him the happiest man on this earth if you were to bring Matthew into your bedroom.”

The words do more than either of you probably thought. They continue to linger in your mind even hours after Hao had said them, you now being in your dorm with your pen stuck between your teeth, eyes unfocused on the words you’ve been trying to read.

Bring Matthew into your bedroom. Have him be a part of your sex life with Hanbin. Make Hanbin the happiest man on this earth. 

It’s official: You’d be lying if you said the whole thing didn’t turn you on. Imagining Hanbin sitting on the little armchair in his apartment with his cock in his hands as you sat on Matthews stiff length, his strong arms wrapped around you as he thrusted up into your needy pussy…

The pen falls down and you are back in reality, flinching and shaking your head. This is crazy. You couldn’t possibly… a groan escapes you and you let your head fall on top of your desk, slamming your forehead against it a few times, before sitting back up and leaning against your chair, letting your thoughts roam free. Hanbin had literally asked you about this several times. He wanted to bring someone else into the bedroom and he even said that he wouldn’t mind it being Matthew. So, what was stopping you? 

“Fucking hell,” you curse as you pull both hands through your hair and get up, opening the door of your room to walk into the living space, where you are met with none other than Hanbin walking in… Matthew right behind him. You freeze mid step. 

“Hi, I called you, but you didn’t pick up, I hope it’s okay I brought Matt over, we were at the gym and the showers are broken and, well, your apartment is closer.” 

Yes, you can clearly see where those two have been. They are sweaty, hair slightly wet, muscle shirts clinging onto their chests. The tattoo on Matthew’s biceps pops out deliciously when he raises his arm to wave at you. Your eyes wander to your boyfriend, a knowing glint in his eyes. 

“That’s okay,” you croak out, looking back at Matthew and somehow you just cannot stop yourself from checking him out unapologetically. His defined arms, the defined chest, the sweatpants on his strong legs. Your tongue slips out of your mouth and runs over your dried up bottom lip and Matthew can’t help but stare at you, feeling his cheeks heat up at the way you’re looking at him. 

He remembers Hanbin’s words and feels his knees go weak.

“She definitely wants you to fuck her, Matt. She just needs a little… nudge.”

Never had he ever thought his best friend’s girlfriend would ever want him to… do that. He swallows down whatever lump has formed in his throat and looks at Hanbin, unsure. Hanbin, who now walks over to you, his hand softly grabbing your chin, moving your head to look at him.

“I think I should hit the shower first, be a good girl and show Matthew the rest of the apartment, hm?” He kisses your lips softly after that, well aware of what his words just caused. Your eyes flicker up to him, wide and unsure and when he winks at you, squeezing your hand as he slowly makes his way to the door leading into the bathroom, you know that all you can do now is follow your gut. 

There is a certain kind of silence between Matthew and you once the door shuts behind Hanbin, a silence filled with tension so thick it takes your breath away. You watch as Matthew slowly drops his bag onto the floor, his shoes vacant next to it. His legs carry him over to you and with every step he takes, your heart picks up speed while the heat between your legs begins to feel almost unbearable. His eyes say much more than words ever could and when he comes to a stop, he lets them linger on your lips long enough for you to almost lose your mind. 

“So, what’s behind this door?” He asks, nodding in the direction of the bedroom door. The heat is about to make you pass out.

“B-bedroom,” you stutter back. Matthew grins.

“Well, what did Hanbin hyung say? Be a good girl and show me.”

Oh. Oh. A Wave of desire washes over you as you nod, your hand shaking when you push the door open, following Matthew’s hand movement and walking inside, his body right behind yours. He doesn’t close the door behind him, instead he settles on walking through the room, looking around. You try to steady your breathing, failing miserably.

“It’s a nice bedroom,” he says, nodding to himself, “I like the pictures on your wall. Did you take them?” 

When you nod, he smiles at you, obviously impressed.

“You’ve got a good eye.” 

As much as you appreciate the compliment - you can’t really focus on anything else but the way he looks in the dim light coming through the window. His arms, his slowly heaving chest. Your eyes roam over his body and you feel hot all over, wondering what it would feel like to touch him, to feel his muscles tighten around you. 

He notices, of course he does. It’s not hard to miss - the way you eye him up and down, the way your eyes linger a little too long on his chest, his arms. He feels his blood rush down, feels his dick getting hard at the mere idea of you checking him out, wanting him. 

“Maybe,” you begin, not sure where the confidence to speak is coming from but you accept it with open arms, “maybe you should change out of your sweaty clothes.”

His eyebrows shoot up for just a second before they settle back down. He can’t stop the smug smile creeping on his lips, not taking his eyes off you when he starts moving. 

“Yeah? Hm, I think you might be right.” His voice is deep and dripping in cockyness that has your pussy clenching. To make matters worse, he comes to a stop in front of you and immediately moves his hands to the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head the next second to reveal a perfectly sculpted torso - abs and chest and collarbones that make your fingers itch to touch them. 

“Fuck,” you breathe out, stepping closer to him with your hands stretched out, hands that he now grabs with his, pulling you right into him. While he should smell bad, courtesy of working out, he doesn’t. He looks sweaty, he is sweaty, but he smells heavenly. His cologne mixed with his own scent, musky and sweet at the same time, it lingers in your nose, gets your knees weak and Matt has to wrap an arm around your waist to stop you from actually falling to your knees. The smug smile seems to get even more smug. His eyes are on yours and his arm around you seems to squeeze every ounce of self respect you have left right out of you.

“Careful, darling.” His voice is merely a whisper. His breath hits your face and you can’t stop the whimper escaping your lips now even if you tried. That does it for him. He forgets all about his worries and crashes his lips onto yours, free hand now cupping your cheek, meaning both of your hands were free to find their own place to settle on. 

First, you let your right hand feel up his biceps, a moan slipping between your lips when he flexes his arm underneath your grip. The other hand is on his chest, nails digging into his warm skin, causing him to hiss. His teeth sink into your bottom lip and you feel like you could come undone on the spot. 

Matthew deepens the kiss, tongue now inside your mouth, wet and hot and perfect and you let both arms wrap around his neck now, his strong arm carrying you over to the bed, where he puts you down, his body now on yours, one of his thighs slipping between yours - giving you the friction you so desperately needed. His lips move fast and rough and you feel like your whole body is on fire when you begin to move your core against his thick thigh, embarrassingly already feeling a climax approaching. 

“God, you’re so pretty,” his breathy voice against your ear gets you even closer to the edge. You bite down on your lip, arching your back against him and he begins to kiss your neck, kiss it, lick it, bite down on your sensitive skin, one hand now under your shirt, grabbing your braless tits and squeezing them hard. 

“Fuck, Matthew-,” you cry out, nails back to digging into his skin, this time his shoulders. Your hips move uncontrollably against his hard thigh, his tongue now wandering down and finally flicking against your nipple after shoving your top up far enough. Everything inside of you is burning by now. Your clothes feel too hot and you sit up for a second to get rid of your shirt, the wild look in Matthew’s eyes as he watches you is intoxicating. You are quick to wrap your arms around him again when your upper body is freed and he is quick to kiss you again, just as rough as before. 

In no time you feel your first orgasm rush over you, a series of whimpers and moans landing in his mouth, against his lips, down his throat as he swallows them.

“Yeah, baby, so pretty when you cum for me, fucking hell, I bet you’re so fucking wet.”

The orgasm is mindblowing. It’s hot and feels forbidden even though you know it’s not. You know Hanbin is probably standing under the stream of water having to restrict himself from touching his cock, from getting off to the thought of you and Matthew alone in your bedroom. There is no time for you to come down from your high, not with Matthew parting from you only to shove you further up the bed with your newest obsession in the form of his arms. Your mouth waters and your eyes widen when you see the clear outline of his arousal between his legs and you can’t stop yourself from sitting back up.

“Can I suck you off?” You ask him.

He groans and nods, pulling his sweatpants down, leaving almost nothing to imagination anymore. His gray briefs are tight around his cock, a cock you can’t wait to taste on your lips and feel its weight on your tongue. You get on all fours, looking up at him and seeing his eyebrow twitch, a smile on your lips when you finally reach him, fingers in the waistband of his underwear, dragging it down his legs next, his thick cock springing free and smacking against his stomach, leaving a small stain right there on his skin. Moving forward, you grab his cock and lick over his stomach, the stain gone in no time, Matthew’s eyes wide and his mouth hanging open. 

“Fuck.” He breathes out, one hand now on the back of your head, watching you as you begin to pump his cock with one hand, the other helping you keep steady on the mattress. You eye his cock, tongue soon licking his tip clean and Matthew is sure he is about to pass out. His hips buck and you giggle, opening your mouth fully for him to slip inside, easily taking him down your throat, Matthew’s composure about to break. His hand fists your hair, head thrown back as he continues to fuck your mouth. Spit is dripping down onto the bed, spit mixed with his pre and you press your tongue against his shaft, letting him use your throat as much as he likes. 

“So, so good for me, baby, taking me so well, fuck.” 

His raspy voice has your eyes rolling back and your core starting to throb again. It won’t be long until you need a cock stuffing you full. 

“I see you are already acquainted with my princess’ ability to take a cock down her throat no problem.”

Hanbin entered the room with neither of you taking notice. Your heart does a flip, eyes opening and flicking over to your beautiful boyfriend who stands in the door frame, nothing but a towel around his slim body, the tattoo right underneath his neck as well as his v-line on full display for you to drool on Matt’s cock over. Your boyfriend comes closer to you now, Matthew not even taking real notice, too far into his desire. Hanbin stops next to Matthew, smiling to himself as he watches his most beloved girlfriend getting throat fucked by his best friend. The towel does little to hide how much he enjoys the view. 

“My perfect girl, I bet you’re so wet, aren’t you?” He pats your cheek softly, eyes warm but sharp. You want to tell him to get behind you, to fuck you as Matthew fucks your mouth, but you know that’s not what he wants.

“Matt, I think it’s time for you to give our little baby here what she needs.” Shit. You moan around Matt’s cock, dizzy from the way Hanbin seems to lose himself in authority in the best way. He’s confident and secure and you don’t think he’s ever been sexier to you. Finally, Matt lets his cock drop from your lips and you wipe over your mouth with the back of your hand, looking from Matt to Hanbin.

“You did so well, baby, ‘am so proud of you.” Hanbin leans forward, kissing your lips and then your cheeks and finally your forehead before looking back at Matthew and giving him the go with a nod. 

A few seconds later you’re on your back, Matthew’s cock deep inside you, wrapped in a condom Hanbin had handed him (“The only one cumming inside her is me, sorry bud,” he had said and Matthew had only nodded, too horny to even really care), fucking into you like a madman. Your back was arched and your fingers were wrapped around his biceps that were all nice and hard as he held himself up above you, his hips working at godspeed. 

Watching all of this from your desk chair, Hanbin had discarded the towel on the floor, his hand around his leaking cock, watching his best friend fuck his girlfriend just the way she liked it. His eyes are glued to your face, the way it is contoured in nothing but pleasure - your eyes closed shut and your mouth dropped open, the sounds coming out of it more than just music to his ears. You sound like heaven to him - like something no one could ever compare to. He licks over his lips, stroking his cock a little quicker as he lets his eyes roam over the rest of you; your tits as they bounce up and down, your legs crossed around Matthew’s waist. Everything about you is perfect and he can’t believe he got to finally see your pleasure from this point of view.

“G-gonna cum, fuck, sh-shit,” Matthew feels himself tumbling over the edge, his head dipping down to kiss your neck and lick up to your lips, pulling you into a kiss that takes your already harbored breath away. He moves faster, with less control and finally, when he feels you clench around his cock over and over - hot cum shoots out of his exhausted cock and into the condom, for a split second wishing there wasn’t one. 

He rides out his orgasm, kissing your lips and cheeks and moving down to your neck, your hands in his hair now, enjoying the way he twitches inside of you. When he rolls off your body, he is still trying to catch his breath, even more sweaty than before. With all of the tension and arousal gone, he now starts to feel blood rush to his cheeks, slowly looking over at you only to see you fondly smiling at him.

“Thanks,” you giggle, letting your fingers brush through his wet bangs. He smiles, showing his rows of white teeth.

“Right back at you,” he says, looking at Hanbin then, who has gotten up. He exchanges glances and nods, knowing that this next part is not for his eyes.

“Guess I’ll finally hit the shower then.” Matthew chuckles, getting off the bed and hurrying to the door that he ends up closing this time.

Hanbin is on top of you a second later, his lips devouring yours, hands on your face, cock pressing against the inside of your thigh. You sigh into his mouth, hands on his nape as you kiss him back, butterflies everywhere, your stomach feeling like you’re flying. 

“You did so well, baby, made me so happy, so horny, god, I love you,” he kisses you between every word and you giggle, wrapping your legs around him.

“I love you too, need you, too, please fill me up, Hannie.”

He nods, kissing the corner of your mouth before skillfully turning you around, slipping into your pussy through your legs flat on the mattress. Fuck. You love it when he fucks you like this. His mouth is right by your ear, his cock easily slipping into you, the moan he lets out making your pussy flutter.

“So wet baby, did he fuck you well, hm? Liked his cock in your mouth? Your pussy?” He whispers into your ear, his hips beginning to fuck you into the mattress hard. You cry out, hands gripping the bed sheets.

“Y-Yes! Liked it a lot.”

“Hm, bet you did. Bet you would have loved it if I had fucked you when you had his cock in your mouth, isn’t that right, baby?” His hips are so skilled, know exactly how to move to make you lose your mind, forget all your words. So, all you can do is nod your head yes.

Hanbin chuckles, kissing the back of your neck.

“I am so lucky to have you.” 

His speed triples after this. He ruts into you like it’s his life goal to have you coming undone on his cock, to have his seed spill into you and claim you as his. Your cries of pleasure make him go even harder, the sound of his cock slipping in and out of your wet pussy so lewd it has both of your heads spinning. When you feel your second climax approaching, you clench around him, Hanbin biting into your shoulder as he continues his thrusts. Neither of you will hold out any longer and so, when he gives you permission with a sweet kiss and a “cum for me, princess”, you can’t help yourself. Pleasure runs through every inch of your body, pulsating around Hanbin’s cock and taking him over the edge with you.

“Yeah, baby, that’s it, shit,” Hanbin empties inside you, hot cum filling your spent pussy and you cry out his name over and over again, just as he does yours. All through getting down from his high, he showers your back with kisses, hands caressing your sides. When he slips out of you and helps turn you on your back, you feel his release dripping out too and he is quick to stuff it back in with his slim fingers, your pussy clenching as you whimper in overstimulation.

“Bin!” Your hands both move to his wrist, eyes wide and he grins, the wrinkles under his eyes making you all soft inside. 

“Sorry, baby. Just making sure what’s yours stays in there.” He kisses the top of your nose and you roll your eyes at him, swatting at his shoulder.

“You’ve got a dirty mouth.”

Your boyfriend just laughs, kissing you lovingly, free hand caressing your cheek. 

Someone clearing their throat in the door makes you part again. There stands Matthew, his eyes glued to the both of you with something like uncertainty in his gaze.

“I just- uh, I just wanted to know where, uh, where you kept the towels.”

You can see clearly that he’s been watching you longer than a few seconds. You and Hanbin share a look before you burst out laughing.

“Maybe we should take a shower together. All three of us,” You say, grinning from Hanbin to Matthew. They both are visibly surprised at your proposal, Matthew looking a little unsure when his and Hanbin’s gaze meet. 

“Sounds like a wonderful plan to me, sweetheart. I could definitely use another shower after this.” Hanbin grins happily. And Matthew thinks that maybe he could get used to this. 

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Back For More

No tag lists. Do not send asks or DMs about updates. Review my pinned post for guidelines, masterlist, etc.

Warnings: this fic will include dark content such as noncon/dubcon, violence, bullying, and possible untagged elements. My warnings are not exhaustive, enter at your own risk.

This is a dark!fic and explicit. 18+ only. Your media consumption is your own responsibility. Warnings have been given. DO NOT PROCEED if these matters upset you.

Summary: You find yourself trapped by Logan's anger. [reader is a mutant who can see emotions]

Characters: Logan Howlett (Wolverine)

Sequel to Cut Deep

Note: since this is my first time writing this character, I’d especially appreciate some extra feedback

As per usual, I humbly request your thoughts! Reblogs are always appreciated and welcomed, not only do I see them easier but it lets other people see my work. I will do my best to answer all I can. I’m trying to get better at keeping up so thanks everyone for staying with me.

Your feedback will help in this and future works (and WiPs, I haven’t forgotten those!) Please do not just put ‘more’. I will block you.

I love you all immensely. Take care. 💖

You skip training for the third day in a row. You stay in your room. You haven’t come out since you scuttled in, battered and terrified. 

You wear the same clothes as that day. Tinged in your blood and sweat, stained in his scent. Every time you close your eyes, you hear Logan’s growl, you feel him inside of you, an agonizing pounding in your guts. 

The first day was shock. A grey blue haze that kept you paralysed. Then came the grief, a deeper slate shade with wisps of white, then anger; not as black as his, weak and scared, woven into a tapestry of yellow. 

You feel Jean before she knocks. Her bliss permeates through your door and contrasts your own despair sharply. You wince in pain. It’s because of her... No, that’s not true. He did this. 

“Hey, you coming?” She asks through the door. 

You don’t move. “No. Sick.” 

She sighs and taps again, “can I see you? I’m worried.” 

“Go,” you hurl back and turn your back to the door. 

The handle jiggles. Your skull and you cradle your skull. You can feel her. 

“Stop it, Jean!” You sit up. “That’s not fair.” 

The door shifts as she leans on it, “at least I know you’re training is working. I can’t figure you out. It won’t hold if you don’t keep working.” 

“I said leave me alone,” you sneer. “I’m not feeling good.” 

“But you would feel better if you talked about it--” 

“No, I wouldn’t!” You snap and crumple back onto the bed. “You don’t know how I feel. How could you? You’re... you’re....” ...perfect. 

She’s quiet as she prods again. Her attempt makes your ears burn. You bury your head under the pillow and growl. Why can’t she leave you be? Why does she have to ruin everything? If she wasn’t leading Logan on for so long, none of this would have happened to you. 

“I know you’ll come out when you’re ready,” she says softly, her voice dampened by the pillow. “And I’ll still be here.” 

Will she? She has a wedding to plan. She’ll be too busy for you. She’ll be picking her perfect little dress and her perfect pretty flowers. 

If you were her, Logan never would’ve touched you. If you were her, you wouldn’t be hurting so bad. If you were her, you’d have people to protect you; people who care about you. You’re just another orphan with nowhere to go. You’re not here to be a part of the family, you’re here to be contained, to be another cog in Xavier’s institution. 

You feel her absence. All the pink rose-scented happiness goes with her. You remain as you have. Alone, afraid, agonized. 

It’s more than physical, more than the acid that sears your insides and the cuts in your side, the throbbing bruise in your nose. It’s that gut-scraping disgust. You’re weak. What does Jean know? You can’t be doing that well if you can’t defend yourself. 

The world comes back into focus as you sit sideways against the wall. The house is quiet. Your vision speckles in the shadowing darkness. You’re hungry. Starving. So empty you’re woozy. It wouldn’t be so bad to let time take its course. 

You make yourself get up. You listen at the door. Your scent is sickening. You reek of neglect and self-loathing. 

You creep out into the hall. There are some in the mansion that never sleep, those that stay up all night and sleep all day. You keep an ear pricked for any disturbance. 

You avoid the hallway where Mitzy hums and the lights pulse along to her melody. You veer around the longer route to the kitchen, thankful that it’s unoccupied. You take down a box of crackers and open it at the counter. You nibble without tasting, your stomach greedily and painfully churning with each crumb. 

Your eyes focus on the counter as you chew in the dark. You blink as the darkness deepens and your heart spasms as a sudden shroud of rage consumes you. You look up at the silhouette that stands in the doorway. It’s him. 

The lights flip on and cast their haze over the bloodied X-man. Logan, Wolverine, monster. He enters without a glance in your direction. He goes to the fridge and takes out a bottle of beer. 

You return the box of crackers to the cupboard and spin to flee around the other end of the island. The plume of his distaste curdles with a layer of nearly neon yellow. He’s amused. 

“You could use one yourself, huh?” He growls. 

You ignore him as you scurry around the corner of the counter. He reaches the door first; calm as he steps into your path. You lean back on your heel as he uncaps the bottle and tilts the neck toward you. He flicks away the metal lid. 

You blink at him and your lip trembles. You feel him slapping you, wrenching you around, crushing you. He snorts and pushes the glass brim to your lip and you flinch away. 

“You think you’re special?” He grits. 

You shake your head and gulp. He pulls the bottle back and swigs from it. The lines around his mouth deepen as he wipes his mouth. 

“You’re a dirty fucking weasel. Look at you.” He snarls and turns the bottle in his grip. “Disgusting.” You peek down at your clothes. The tear in your shirt gapes open where he cut you and your jeans are crooked on your hips. “What’s it, then? You like the feel of me so much, you had to keep me all over you?” 

You flick your gaze back to him and glare. Your eyes gloss over and your nose flares. He’s supposed to help his fellow mutants, not hurt them. 

“If you’re going to cry, better just get it over with,” he snips. 

You focus on the black fog around him and twist it up like a noose. You stare at his throat and gnash your teeth as you draw it tight. As he goes to take another drink, he chokes and staggers back. He spits beer onto the floor and touches his throat, his face turning red. 

His eyes bulge as he looks at you and he steadies himself enough to whip the bottle at you. It bounces off your arm as you lose control of his emotion and shield yourself. You stumble then catch yourself. You hurry past him for the door. 

He drags you bag with and arm around your waist and flings you so you bounce of the corner of the island counter. You heap onto the floor, the wind knocked from your chest as a pang thumps between your shoulder blades. You cough as his footsteps stalk towards you. 

“You really are a mongrel.” He sneers as he steps over you and kicks you onto your back. “Do you know what you are? You’re nothing but a toy.” He falls to his knees and straddles your torso. You bend your arms, pushing on his lower back without effect. “Jean isn’t training you to be one of us. She’s doing it to keep you busy. You let the weak ones out into the world, and they go around starting bullshit.” 

You turn your head back and forth as he tries to get a grip on your chin. He clamps down and your tongue pinches between your teeth. You murmur and writhe, smacking his thighs frantically. No, please. 

“You just can’t help yourself,” he lifts your head, only to slam it back down. Your vision spatters with silver stars and black blotches. 

The world doubles before you and has you senseless. He moves up your body, pinning your shoulders with his knees. You squirm as your eyes roll back. He tugs at the front of his pants as he grunts. He holds your head down as he pulls his dick out with his other hand. 

He leans on you so the tile presses into your skull. He bends and angles his tip along your lips. You seal your mouth and lock your jaw. He squeezes so his thumb jabs your temple and you whimper. 

“Open up before I break your teeth,” he snarls. 

You whine and shove his stomach. He’s immoveable. You can’t breath as he sits on your chest. You puff out, your lips peeling apart, and he jams himself inside. You twitch and gag as he thrusts down to your throat.  

His hand slides down to your throat as his other lifts from your forehead. The metallic extension of his claw cuts the air and he rests the blade against your cheek. You tremble and squeeze your eyes shut, willing yourself to be still. 

He rears back and slams down again. As he intrudes your throat, you gag, kicking as you claw at his jacket. He does it again and again and again. Your face smears with saliva and a sickening saltiness. Your breath clogs and your cheek swells until you’re sure your lungs will burst. 

Your mind roils to a maelstrom of horror. Shades of putrid green and repugnant yellow, laced with black grey and oceanic blues. The fear radiates from you but he only laughs between his beastly grunts. He rams further and you wretch, bile flooding around his dick, dribbling out around your lips. 

Your hand trails up his chest, pleading for mercy as you gulp and gag. He drags his claw down to your jaw and back up. You shake harder as the terror mounts with your nausea. You puff through your nose between his cruel thrusts. 

When you think you might pass out, he slides free and you gasp. He raises himself on his knees and aims his claw down, hooking it under your shirt to slice open the fabric. He pumps his dick as he tenses and a warmth spurts onto your chest. You lay plastered to the floor as he cums overs you, ribbons stretching up your neck. 

You heave in the balmy aftermath of his assault. He groans and hangs his head as he stills. He snarls then shifts. He stands, planting one foot at a time and nudges you with his toe and he steps away from you. He repels his claw and huffs. 

He goes back to the fridge and glass clinks as he takes another beer. 

“Clean up this mess,” he growls as he crushes the glass under his boots. “And yourself. The next time I find you, you better be clean.” 

He pops the cap and flings it over his shoulder as he leaves you. You sit up slowly, convulsing as you fight the revulsion coursing up your throat. You cover your mouth as you bend over your lap and suppress another wretch. 

You exhale and climb to your knees. The smell of beer hangs in the air along with the remnants of his wrath. The little black flecks like the ashes of a burnt house. 

‘Next time...’ 

Those words echo in your head as you get to your feet. You stagger over the muddle of shards and liquid and out into the hall. You don’t care if Storm throws a fit about the mess, you don’t care about any of it. If you stay, it’s just going to happen again. 

[wososcripts]

Face to Face (IV)

Fridolina Rolfö x reader

Summary: An attempt to make amends.

A/N: we're nearing the end!! not sure how I feel about this part... hopefully it's okay

Word Count: 3k

Warnings ⚠️: none?

PREVIOUS PART

The next few days followed in a similar manner. Alexia brought you to the pitch even though you couldn't play, and you sat there for a few hours until they were done. Occasionally Jona would come over to see you, or Olga would stop by with food. Ana Maria even drove over from Madrid to see you and take you out for the day. But mostly you slept, listened to podcasts, and thought about what the hell you were going to do about Frido.

She still hadn't spoken to you and the team was starting to notice. It's not like the two of you were very close before (at least publicly) but now it was a conscious avoidance. The rest of the girls often kept you company when they could on breaks or in between drills.

It was only after five days, on Friday afternoon, that she approached you.

“Hi…” Frido said softly.

You looked up at her from where you sat on the pitch. You had been doing light stretches on your calves, still not allowed to do anything strenuous until next week.

“Hi, Frido.” You said plainly.

You tried not to react emotionally despite the fact that this was the first time she was speaking to you since the incident. She hadn’t even called to say she was sorry. It all seemed to confirm she really didn’t give a damn about you—didn’t have the courtesy to treat you like a stranger even.

“How are you feeling?”

Her careful, soft tone enraged you.

“Not so good, actually. My head fucking hurts, I’m sick of sitting here while the rest of you play. And I’d really rather be doing anything than talking to you.”

You felt bad the second you said it. Not because she didn’t deserve it, but because this wasn’t you. You were better than that.

“Sorry, I just really would like to be left alone, Frido. Please, just leave me be. Leave me alone.”

Frido’s eyes shot towards the ground as she blinked furiously.

“Okay.”

She turned away and walked back to the field, joining Alexia and Ingrid as they talked about something. Part of you felt bad for rejecting her so quickly, but another part of you felt enraged that she had the nerve to wait this long.

Ingrid looked over at you and then back at Frido curiously.

"What did you want to say to her?" She asked in Norwegian, knowing Frido would understand.

"I don't know… just wanted to check in on how she's doing so far."

Before Ingrid could reply again, Alexia butted in.

"You need to tell her you're sorry as soon as possible."

"I just tried—clearly she isn't too keen on having me around, is she?" Frido snapped back.

The three of them stood in shock for a second, surprised at Frido’s temper. Usually she was level headed and understanding.

Alexia sighed and clapped her on the shoulder.

"Keep trying."

With that she was off to change and shower, giving Ingrid a small smile as she left.

"Frido," Ingrid rubbed her arm to catch her attention. "Why don't we go get a drink tonight and catch up? It's been a long time since we went out, just us."

Frido contemplated it momentarily, not stupid enough to miss that Ingrid clearly wanted to talk about her mood. If she accepted, she was also accepting the fact that she had to open up to her best friend sooner or later.

"All right."

-

"I don't know what to do," Frido complained, tossing back the last dregs of her beer.

Ingrid sat across from her, her own beer nearly untouched. They were sat out on the balcony of some restaurant nursing the end of the night. They hadn't met, just the two of them, in a while, Frido realized. She wished it was under better circumstances.

"Can I be honest?" Ingrid asked.

Frido nodded. She expected no less from the Norwegian—though she was incredibly kind, it wasn't common for them to sugar coat things.

"You've got to go up to her and apologize. Sincerely. One on one. And you can't be sure she's going to forgive you."

Frido knew Ingrid was talking about apologizing for more than the tackle. She wasn't privy to exactly what happened between the two of you—even in your anger you hadn't told your teammates what was going on—but it was clear something unhealthy had been a staple between the two of you.

"Mapí showed me the video. I didn't want to see it at first, you know how I am with that stuff, so worried always that it'll be one of us. But I finally saw it." Ingrid met her eyes. "The way she went down, the way you hit her, she could've been hurt much worse than she is. And you just got up and left, didn't even check on her."

There was a hint of disdain in Ingrid’s voice that inspired nausea in Frido.

"Had that been any player in a match against Barcelona, imagine how any one of us would've reacted."

Frido knew, if she had seen someone do to you what she had done herself, it would've boiled her blood. To see you lying there unmoving, would've had any player on that field aching, because you were wonderful. You didn't cause fights, you forgave people, you smiled at the opposition after each game, you spent as much time as possible with the fans. And Frido had somehow broken that, gotten you to yell and scream and cry.

"We were together." She whispered, not meeting Ingrid’s eyes. "Well, not really. We were sleeping together, I was at her place most days a week."

The waitress came by, and Frido ordered a glass of wine. She needed a bit more courage to fully get this out in the open.

"I didn't want commitment. I'm not… I didn't know how to be open about that with anyone. I was ashamed of it—she knew. She could sense it." Frido gripped the stem of her wine glass and took a sip. "She hated breaks because she knew I wouldn't talk to her until I was back in Barcelona. Right before I went back to Sweden for camp… we had a huge fight. She said she couldn't take it anymore, that I made her feel like a whore, that I tossed her aside whenever I didn't want her. And I said I didn't care."

Ingrid was silent.

"I didn't expect her to kick me out. Or to refuse to speak to me. I thought we'd fall back together, we always did. But it was different this time. And I hated it. I hated it so much it made my head spin."

Ingrid put a hand over Frido’s where it rested on the table.

"Frido, I love you. You're my best friend, okay?"

Frido nodded, wiping at a tear that was beginning to fall.

"You've got to make this right. Good people do shitty things. Really shitty things sometimes. But sometimes they're also forgiven, in time. And if you want anything with her, even friendship, you've got to apologize and explain yourself."

Frido nodded, meeting Ingrid’s eyes finally.

-

That night Frido found it difficult to get to sleep.

There wasn't any good reason for it: she had worked hard in practice all day and her body was exhausted. Her bed was comfortable, her apartment quiet. But it was empty. She had realized that she hadn't spent a week straight sleeping in her apartment for months. At least once a week she was with you, always.

But now you weren't speaking to her. You looked at her during practice, then avoided her at all costs. She hadn't even tried texting you, worried she would find her number blocked.

She contemplated calling someone to keep her company, though who would be up at one in the morning?

Eventually she fell asleep after tossing and turning for what felt like hours. She slipped away into unconsciousness, allowing her body to relax into the mattress.

Her mind, however, had different plans.

In her dreams she was in the hospital, unable to get to you. She stood at the door to your room, peering in through a small glass window. The rest of the girls were inside, holding your hand and stroking your skin as you laid in the hospital bed. Your eyes were open but you hardly moved. All she knew with certainty was that you did not want to see her. You wanted her gone. You've ruined my life, she heard you say, though your lips didn't move.

Another time you had simply disappeared. Her fault. You had moved far away, far from Barcelona, and far from her. You were happier somewhere else, with different people.

Once more you hated her. Refused to speak.

When she woke it was to a dark room and a sick feeling in her stomach. She was lonely. She wanted you next to her in bed. She wanted to see you smile and hear you laugh. She wanted to see you play great football and jump into her arms after a goal. And it terrified her to think she wouldn't get any of that again.

How was it that she could've treated you so horribly? It confused her, as if it had been someone else. How had she let her fear control her like that? And most importantly, how had she put your feelings aside so callously?

If she was going to fix anything she would need to apologize. Apologize for it all. Ingrid was right. She hadn't been there for your recovery and now it was all she wanted. The guilt of it all threatened to choke her. She thought of how scared you must've been lying on the field in pain.

Though it was only 4:30 in the morning Frido got out of bed and went to the bathroom to start a scalding hot shower. She needed a plan for how to fix things between you two.

-

It began that morning. Alexia brought you to practice. You were still living with her for the time being, until you were one hundred percent cleared. You didn't mind it, in fact it was nice to get so much time with Alexia when she was normally busy.

You walked into the locker room, so pleased to be getting into your kit for the first time in a week and a half. Even if it was just for physio work, at least you were in the uniform once more.

Unexpectedly, sitting in your locker was a small stuffed cow with a card and one of your favorite protein bars propped against it. You picked up the plushie, pressing it to your face and enjoying the softness. You were a bit of a child when it came to stuffed animals: you loved them.

The card was written in very familiar handwriting, and your heart jumped into your throat.

This made me think of you. I'd really like to apologize after practice today. Perhaps we can grab a coffee?

- Fridolina

The message was a bit stilted, but you could practically hear Frido’s hesitation on the page. She was nervous.

Just then the blonde came into the locker room to grab something from her bag. She glanced at you quickly, not sure as to your reaction.

"Frido," you called softly. You hadn't decided until that moment to try and forgive her, "I'll see you after practice."

Frido seemed shocked, but quickly her mouth transformed into a wide smile.

Practice seemed to fly by now that you were allowed to do something. The physio workers had you weight training and doing yoga to try and work your muscles that were tight from the pain you had been in. You felt like you were making progress, finally, after more than a week of sitting around.

-

The car ride with Frido was quiet. You sat in the front seat, fiddling with your fingers and checking your phone as she drove. She had music playing softly, some indie band you didn't know. It was bordering on awkward, though not quite there. You simply didn't know what to say.

Once Frido was pulling off the street to parallel park you spoke.

"I don't think I've been here before."

"I just found it a little while ago when I was wandering around desperately in need of some coffee."

The shop was cute. The outside was painted in chipping yellow paint and the shutters were open. There were a few tables outside, an eclectic set of guests seated at them. There was an old man reading the paper, a student on her laptop, and a mother with her baby. The smell of baked goods wafted from the entrance.

"The muffins are fantastic, if you want one." Frido offered cautiously.

You nodded and gestured for her to enter first.

You decided on a chai and a cinnamon muffin which did look incredible, you had to admit. When you were about to pull out your card to pay you felt a hand on your arm.

"I'll pay, please."

You allowed it, understanding that this was all part of Frido trying to ask for forgiveness. You were willing to see this to the end. It shamed you to admit but you had missed her deeply. It felt good to be near her, to smell her perfume and anticipate her ticks that you knew so well. What made you stay was the possibility that she had missed you too.

Frido carried your drinks and food to the table you picked. It was still warm enough to sit outside even with the sun setting. You tapped your foot and ate your muffin slowly, waiting on her to say something. You didn't want to speak first, but it seemed as though you might have to.

"So…" you started, trailing off to try and prompt Frido.

"I wanted to apologize. Really apologize."

You sat quietly.

"Just for the concussion you gave me?"

Frido hesitated.

"I'm still figuring things out—it's all jumbled up in my head. I was talking to Ingrid the other day and she made me realize I had to set things straight."

"What exactly does that mean?"

"I'm not explaining this well—I wanted to apologize for hurting you. And I want us to be on better terms. I wish we could start over."

"That's it?"

Your chest squeezed painfully. You thought this was the chance you had to deal with the horrible ending to your relationship, but Frido seemed to have no interest in unpacking it. You couldn't help the way your anger flared in response to the hurt you felt.

"I wanted to make sure you were okay."

"I'm not exactly okay, Frido." You started to stand up. "I think it's better if I left. There's no hard feelings over the concussion, I knew it was an accident. Let's just forget about all of it."

Frido stood up quickly, reaching out to grab your elbow.

"Can I drive you back?"

You shook your head.

"I'd really rather walk. It isn't far to Alexia's."

Frido looked for a second like she would push further, but then she deflated and nodded.

"See you at practice, Frido. Thank you for the coffee."

-

You couldn't help the tears that fell down your face as you walked down the streets of Barcelona. Deciding to forget the whole thing was worse than being angry about it—at least then you got some acknowledgment. Now you felt as though Frido was telling you she just wanted to smooth things over and make nice. She wanted it to be as if this thing between you never existed—all the pain and attraction gone in one fell swoop. You wanted to scream.

How were you meant to play with someone who you had so much conflict with? Surely Alexia or Jona would begin to notice sooner or later. You knew it would affect the team chemistry. The thought just made you more upset.

The tears in your eyes began to fall faster. Not only was your relationship (whatever messy bleeding thing it had been) ruined, but there was a potential for it to impact your job, your team too. What would you do then? If it came down to you or Frido you couldn't imagine Barça picking you.

Alexia noticed you were crying the second she saw you, even though you tried to hide it.

"What's wrong?" She fretted, pulling you close to her. "What happened? I thought you were with Frido this afternoon? Why did she not drop you off?"

You just shook your head, burying it in your captain's sweater. She wrapped her arms around you, quietly shushing you.

"Come, let's sit down."

You felt like a child being led to the couch and leaning in Alexia's embrace. Deep breaths eventually calmed you down so you could speak.

"I'm sorry Ale, I shouldn't be coming here like this."

Alexia shook her head.

"Nonsense. Tell me what happened. Was it Fridolina?"

"It's my own fault, I let it get like this."

"Let what get like this? The accident?"

You shook your head.

"Not the accident. Frido and I have a…we have our difficulties."

Alexia looked at you, surprised.

"Really?"

"I don't think I can tell you…you're her captain I don't want to let it affect the team."

Alexia took your hand.

"I can separate work and personal life. I'm your friend too, and it seems like you need one."

"We were seeing each other, kind of. In secret." You sighed. "We weren't exclusive, she just wanted some fun I think. I didn't."

You felt defeated. There wasn't much more to do. You just had to accept your fate.

Alexia looked at you for a moment in disbelief. She had had no idea.

"You and Frido?"

"It was a mistake."

[flemingsfreckles]

Midnight Kiss

Synopsis: you learn Jessie has never had a midnight kiss, you decide to change that.

Warnings: none!

WC: 1.1k

A/N: hi, happy new year! I couldn’t sleep last night and started this little blurb and I’ve finished it on the train to the airport so it’s very short, I apologize. Hope everyone gets a new years kiss if they want one, or maybe a new years high five, whatever you’re in to :)

“Ever had a midnight kiss?” You leaned over practically shouting in Jessie’s ear as the two of you stood side by side on the wall of a bar.

It had been Sophia’s idea, renting out a bar to celebrate the new year, she invited her various friends as well as national and club teammates. You weren’t one for partying anymore, outgrowing that phase when you left college, but when Sophia had texted, practically begging you to come you agreed.

The night hadn’t been half bad, surrounded by a lot of familiar faces, loud music and dancing, and some good food you couldn’t complain too much. But the longer the night went on the more you longed to be back home snuggled in bed.

“Nope, at least not on New Years, you?” Jessie turns her head to glance at you. You nod your head as you bring the beer bottle in your hand to your lips. Taking a sip you debate if you should give her further details or not.

“Yeah, funny enough a fair amount with men.” You notice how Jessie’s eyes raise as she brings her own drink to her lips. “Most of them were just for fun, drunken kisses that didn’t mean anything.” Suddenly shy about your history of drunk kissing, you change the subject. “So never? Not even as a joke?”

Jessie just shakes her head before adding a shoulder shrug.

“Would you want to be?” It’s kind of a joke, offering to kiss your teammate. But it also wasn’t, you’d always had an admiration for Jessie, her composure, the way her brain worked, not to mention the freckles, the curls, the maple brown eyes.

“Huh?” Those same eyes squinting at you in confusion.

“I just mean, I could, we could, if you wanted to.” You tried to be nonchalant about it, but in reality your heart was racing. You figured the offer was light, she didn’t have to know the feelings behind it, that you were maybe interested in a little bit more than just a new years peck.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea.” Her words cause your stomach to sink slightly but you weren’t quite ready to give up, you wouldn’t push her into it, but you were curious.

“Why not? it doesn’t have to mean anything.”

“That’s actually the problem.” Jessie mumbles as she brings her drink to her lips, taking a longer sip than normal, tipping the bottle back until it empties into her mouth.

“What do you mean?”

She looks at you, a firm stare, one that almost makes you feel stupid for not understanding what she meant. Your fingers begin to pick at the label on your bottle, a nervous habit. She raises her eyebrows at you. “Seriously?”

You throw your arms out slightly in a shrug.

“If we kiss, I’m worried it won’t be nothing. I’ll go home and not be able to sleep because of it. I’ll be up thinking there’s something there, something between us, while you go and forget we even kissed before you leave the building because it means nothing.”

“I said it could mean nothing.”

Now it’s her turn to look confused. Instead of making her wait you explain yourself.

“It doesn’t have to mean nothing. It can mean something, if that’s something you’d be interested in exploring.” You pull off a chunk of the label, picking causing it to fall off the bottle. You take a sip in an attempt to distract yourself from the nerves that had bottled up.

“Really?” She says it as if she doesn’t believe you, as if this was a practical joke being played on her and she was waiting for the laughing to start.

“Yeah.” You not and smile at her, placing your hand on her shoulder. “You really think I’d spend my whole evening glued to your side if I wasn’t into you? I mean I get it, you’re cool and all but I’ve been trying to flirt with you for months.” It’s now your turn to look at her like she had missed the big clue.

“Oh.”

“I just said it could mean nothing because I didn’t know how you felt. I didn’t want there to be weird feelings if you just thought I was trying to kiss you for my own enjoyment.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

You’re pulled your your own bubble of tension when the crowd surrounding the bar begins counting down from 10. You look over to see a big count down on the screen as the clock approaches midnight.

“Five!”

You turn back to look at Jessie, she’s looking back at you. You don’t have the chance to ask with words instead raising your eyebrows in question at her.

“Four!”

Her tongue quickly runs along her bottom lip, and then she nods.

“Three!”

It takes a moment for your brain to register her head movement. She nodded.

“Two!”

You put your bottle down on the small ledge next to you, freeing your hands. One comes to her waist, pulling her closer, the other to the side of her face.

“One!”

You lean down, putting your lips to hers as an array of noisemakers, fireworks, and shouts happen in the background as the new year starts. All the sounds fade out as your attention is brought back to Jessie, the way her soft lips were on yours, her arms thrown around your neck, pulling you down and into her just as much as you were holding her tight to your own body.

You both pull back, earlier than you truly would’ve liked. Her eyes open just after yours and you can’t help but hide the smile that ran across your lips. She mirrors you, a big smile, that she tries to bite back and a faint blush on her face.

“So? Midnight kiss worth it?” You tease her, trying to break the slight buildup of romantic and sexual tension that had occurred from a simple kiss.

“Oh definitely, especially if there’s going to be more of those in the new year.” Leaning over, her head rests on your shoulder and she tilts her head up to look at you.

“I think I can make that happen.”

[eclecticmiasma]

Hello! Good evening!

I haven’t been able to stop thinking about Mithrun and I had a small scenario pop up in my head, and it would be lovely to see your vision on how this would play out, please and thank you 💕:

AFAB!Elf!reader is a member of the canaries, very soft spoken and rather kind. The nicest, most likely. Against her better judgement she’s down bad for the captain and everyone else is like “pls no I’d rather you not”. (She can fix him/jk)

Mithrun realizes she has feelings for him and in a very subtle way treats her a little more gentle than the others. Lets her spoil him a tiny bit more. Listens to her a bit more.

Reader can only hope one day maybe…just maybe…the captain can show a little interest in her too 🥺 and is oblivious that he lets her get away with a little more than others

Just very soft feelings all over

I won't spoil it for those who haven't read the manga, but there are instances where we see Mithrun treat Kabru rather favorably and opening up in great detail about his past. In a side story, we also see that younger Mithrun cared for the other canaries quite a bit. I imagine that even without his desires, Mithrun would appreciate care shown to him in his own Mithrun-y way.

SFW

Mithrun might be adverse to you at first, because when he really looks inward you remind him of his younger self.

However, Mithrun would soon come to see that you don't have the same...pitfalls in your personality that brought him where he is today. He might even come to somewhat admire your ability to stay genuinely kind in a world like theirs.

The other canaries start to notice that you have a much easier time getting their leader to take an ounce of care in his own well-being than any of them ever have. Some of them think it's entertaining while others (Pattadol) think the favoritism is unnacceptable.

Cithis might tease him about it if you aren't around, "We don't want to worry poor [y/n] by getting all dehydrated now, do we captain?"

Even the mention of your name is enough to motivate Mithrun, though you remain completely unaware. In your mind, the captain regards you as nothing more than a subordinate.

You don't notice the way his good eye trains on you as you talk about life before the canaries. You don't realize how fast he falls asleep when you're near. The magnitude of the fact that one night he voluntarily tells you a story about when he and his brother were children slips by you completely.

Pattadol is the only one to ever bring it up to you directly, and you truly have no idea what she's talking about. None of the others help her either, preferring to sit back and watch how her face reddens with frustration.

Mithrun isn't oblivious to the situation, however. He knows that there's something about you that...calms him, at the very least. He's sharp enough to know that you feel the same way about him, perhaps even stronger.

He likes having you around. It's not something he wants when you're gone, but it's something he enjoys while you're there. Because he knows you have some type of feelings for him, he indulges you at every turn. He even lets you wash his back and massage the scarred tissue built at the tips of his ears- though you're terribly relieved he can't see the heat rising on your cheeks as you do so.

One day, long long after the dungeoneering is done, perhaps you might even be able to help Mithrun find his desires, find himself again.

*do not post elsewhere without explicit permission. please consider reblogging, as Tumblr tends to hide adult content!

[RULES] [MASTERLISTS] [AO3] [KO-FI]

[jarofstyles]

hiiii could we get a really really meandom!Harry who’s very cocky & likes to manhandle y/n please please please 🙏🏻

Yall love a mean h huh? Here’s a baby blurb!!

Patreon

Warnings- mean don obviously, lots of degradation, gagging, slight dumbification,

——-

“I’ve had enough of looking at you disobey me.” He snarled. Her breath was stolen as his hands gripped her hips, physically tossing her on to her knees, not giving her any time to recover as he tugged her up to where he wanted her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry!” She cried out, spitting hair out of her mouth as she tried to plead her case. “I tried to hold it, I really did. It felt t-too good.” Reaching her orgasm without permission was not something the man took kindly to. Not after he made it explicitly clear that he owned every drop of her pleasure.

“Sorry isn’t fucking good enough, is it?” There was little time to think before his cock impaled her again, sliding all the way inside and stealing her breath. A broken moan left her swollen mouth as he pulled out and slammed back in again, jostling her on the bed. “Didn’t you learn your lesson last time? Can’t believe I have t’keep teaching you how to be good.”

She knew it was pathetic but she loved when he got like this. When he spoke mean to her, his tone low and sharp as his cock fucked into her. Being used like this was the thing she wanted most of all and Harry gave it to her so good, she couldn’t stop coming back. “I-I….” The girl had attempted to say something, but the thrusts had fucked any thought she had right out of her head.

“You what? Fucking whore… god, it’s a good thing your cunt feels this good. I’d have no use for you if it wasn’t.” He could tell she liked it from how wet she god, gushing around his prick and soaking him more than any other woman had. The sloppy sounds of her ruined cunt getting deep fucked were loud and welcomed, next to her little whines each time he thrust all the way in. “Yeah… good little pussy, takes me so well. At least she works properly, unlike that empty little head of yours. Just lay there and let me use you to get off.”

That had her cunt fluttering around his cock again, clueing him in to just how much she liked the degrading. “Pathetic.” Fingers pressed into her mouth, making her moans muffle as she attempted to suck on them. “Need all your holes filled just t’make you happy. Lucky I’m so nice to you and let you be my fucktoy. I have options, y’know sweets? Could get my dick wet whenever I leave the house but…” he felt her moan on his digits as his other hand dipped his thumb into her ass. “None of them let me toss ‘em around quite like you. You know your place as my pretty set of holes, don’t you?”

There was a feeble attempt at a nod but she was hindered by the fingers she had stroking her tongue, eyes tearing up again as he got deep into her. It felt like he was in her stomach, the intrusion on her ass only adding to the full feeling she’d been craving. “Good. I don’t want t’have to replace you, sweetheart. Don’t think anyone else would get this wet from having their sweet cunt bullied by a cock that’s a bit too big for them to take.”

[withleeknow]

wishful thinking. (7.5)

chapter 7.5: limbo

summary: the instruction was plain and simple: no strings attached. but you should’ve known from the beginning that it could never apply to you and him.

pairing: minho x f!reader rating: 18+ (minors dni) genres/warnings: friends to lovers, friends with benefits au, college au; fluff, angst, smut; minho's pov; non-explicit smut, kissing, grinding, implied unprotected sex; alcohol consumption, non-linear storytelling (jumps around a few random scenes before we get back to the present that picks up from the end of chapter 7), cursing, the final line :-?; not that unedited i am so so sorry lol word count: 5.6k

as always, i’d appreciate any thoughts or comments you may have, and please drop a like and/or reblog if you enjoy reading ♡

navigation / series masterpost / taglist

Wishing fountains, we pray for change in the dark Moving mountains, we end up right where we start The world’s not falling apart But you and I, baby we are

Wishing Fountains - Bad Suns

“What does it say?” Minho asks.

You sigh, your eyes trailing the words on the small piece of paper in your hands before you shove one half of the fortune cookie in your mouth. It seems dry; you look like you can barely swallow it.

“Bullshit,” you say simply, a little bitter before you hide behind a mask of indifference, turning to him as you ask, “Yours?” 

He breaks his own fortune cookie in half, pulling out a similar piece of paper that reads, “‘Jeg elsker deg’ means ‘I love you’ in Norwegian.”

You're both lying on a fluffy rug on the floor of your bedroom, with an empty bottle of rosé sitting somewhere near your head. “That’s... random,” you say, casting your eyes to the ceiling. “But I mean, at least it’s kind of educational. Now you know a phrase in Norwegian.”

“Sure,” Minho laughs, testing out the syllables in his mouth and butchering them in the process. “Who would I even say it to?”

“Impress your future girlfriend with your worldly knowledge. Or say it to Hyunjin, I’m sure he’ll swoon and blush like a schoolgirl.”

“That’s the last thing I want. He’s already clingy enough as it is.”

“Alright. Well, your loss then.”

He only hums in response. “You’re really not gonna tell me what yours is?”

“I told you. It’s bullshit.”

“Wanna tell me why the fortune cookie is evil at least? I’ll fight it for you.”

You roll your eyes, shoving at his shoulder with a playful scoff. “It just got me thinking, that’s all.”

“About what?”

It takes a minute for you to gather your thoughts into one semi-cohesive pile. 

“Just… reminds me how I don’t really fit into anyone’s life,” you start, your voice coming out a little small and timid before you seem to let the alcohol give you enough confidence to say what you want. “I don’t feel like I’m worth anyone’s time. Everyone’s going to outgrow me eventually, if they haven’t already. Their lives will only get bigger and bigger, and they’ll have to leave me behind at some point. All that space but none for me.

“I think I’ll be stuck like this forever, in this fucking… limbo. And I know it’s dramatic because we’re still young and we’ve got our whole lives in front of us and whatever else that people say. But it feels like wherever I go and whatever I do, my life will always be this small while you all move on. Chan and Jess, Seungmin, Changbin, Felix, even Hyunjin and Jisung when they’re not too busy being idiots. Everyone’s got everything all planned out, and they have other things to fall back on if those plans don’t work out. If I fall, I think I’ll just keep falling until I hit rock bottom.

“And you… you’re gonna do great things too. You’re gonna live your life and it’s going to be a good one, and you’ll forget about me too. A few years from now, when everyone’s already moved on, I’ll just be a girl that you used to know. I’m just a stop along the way.”

Then you pause, and the laugh you let out afterward is choked up and not at all sincere. You rub your hands down your face, groaning a little when you say, “Ugh, that was depressing. Sorry, it’s the wine. Forget I said anything.”

You have beautiful eyes, that’s what Minho has always thought, the kind that holds all the universe’s sparkles and all its sadness too, a bittersweet balance. The kind that makes one want to stop and admire for a while. He loves when they light up before the joy gradually spreads across your face, like watching the sun peak over the horizon before it colors the sky with ethereal pinks and purples and blues. You’re a wonderful sunrise, his favorite part of every day.

He even loves your faraway gaze when you’re here but you’re elsewhere simultaneously, hiding in your eyes musings that are privy to nobody else. You’d stare into the distance and he’d watch you the whole time, wondering if any of the thoughts that occupy your mind are about him.

Minho has an urge to take you into his arms and hold you tight and tell you that everything’s going to be okay. That no one’s going to forget about you because you’re not someone who can be forgotten so easily, let alone be forgotten by him. That he isn’t going anywhere if it’s not by your side, that he wants to be in your life until you decide you’re sick of him, not the other way around.

He wants to tell you he loves you because that’s the truth. He was gone the minute he saw you at that stupid party years ago when you had walked in shyly with Chan and Jess. You had tried to make yourself smaller in a roomful of strangers, but you’ve always been the only one Minho could find in a crowd.

Years and years from now, when he thinks back to his youth, the highlight reel that will pop up in his mind will be of his idiot friends and the good memories they’ve shared with one another. How they laughed and cried, how they fell and got back up together time and time again.

And at the center of it all will be you. Green grass, blue skies, his golden days and you, the focal point of his youth.

He loves you. Would it help, or would it scare you?

He doesn’t let himself debate that question for long. Regardless of what the answer is, now isn’t the right time. So instead, he says, “For what it’s worth, everyone’s just taking it one day at a time, even if they seem like they have it all planned out. You’re not falling behind. You’re going at your own pace, who cares about other people?”

You turn your head to stare at him, your cheeks flushed with a rosy tint from the wine you had shared and a pensive look on your face. He can’t tell what you’re thinking, but he holds your gaze anyway.

“And I can’t speak for anyone else, but you’ll always have me. I promise I’m not going anywhere.”

A quiet moment passes. If Minho focuses hard enough, he thinks he might be able to hear the faint beats of your heart.

His gaze flickers to your lips for barely a second before it returns to your eyes, quick enough for it to escape your notice.

Then, you’re holding yourself up on one elbow and shuffling into his orbit until you’re right by his side. He doesn’t move a single inch; he only watches as you get closer, and closer, and closer until there’s no more space between the two of you. He blinks, and in that split second he misses the way you let your eyes shut as you lean down to press your lips to his.

He’s surprised, but pleasantly so.

You taste like rosé, like something he’s always known that he wants to chase.

It stuns him enough that he forgets to respond, his mind focused solely on the feeling of your soft lips on him, the scent of your jasmine perfume and how you’re so warm pressed against him like this.

Maybe it’s the stillness of his body that shocks you out of it, because you pull away after a few seconds with an instant look of mortification in your eyes, trying to scramble back to your original spot on the rug like you’ve just committed an unspeakable sin. Running away, he thinks, is your first instinct.

But Minho is just a tad quicker than you are. He doesn’t let you stray very far when he props himself up to cup your face with one hand and bring you back to him.

He’s kissing you again and for a brief moment, he feels like he could die.

You don’t break from him this time. Instead, you’re kissing him back just as deeply. You let him lower you back to the floor as he holds himself up above you, his tongue slipping past the seal of your lips while his thumb strokes your cheek softly, keeping you there in his loose hold so you could still run if that’s what you want to do.

But you stay with him, your hands trailing up the expanse of his chest to find purchase on his shoulders, your legs parting so he could perfectly slot himself into the space that you’ve allowed him.

When he rocks his hips into you experimentally, you bite on his bottom lip, a whining sound from your throat comes out muffled against his mouth.

He strays just long enough and far enough so he could look into your eyes, with your pupils blown much darker than they had been at the start of the evening.

He says your name, the gentlest sound in the world, then a question. “What do you want?”

Minho half expects you to overthink your answer and come back to your senses, to choose flight because it would be the easier option.

But you don’t. There’s a dazed look in your eyes as you lock onto him, and there’s something underneath the pool of lust in your gaze that leaves him breathless and wondering.

“You,” you say quietly, “I want you.”

And it’s with this simple answer that you pull him back to you again, not the other way around. You kiss him more fervently than before if that’s even possible. When he slides his arm around your waist, you let him pick you up to cross the few steps it takes to get to your bed, his lips never leaving you even after he has laid you onto the mattress. They follow the path where your jawline leads down to your neck, then where your neck meets your collarbone, and he savors every little whimper that you make for him even though he’s barely touched you yet. There’s hardly any patch of skin that he leaves unkissed, and when he reaches where your shirt begins to hide the rest of you from him, he only looks up at you, quietly asking for more permission.

You don’t give him a verbal answer. You take matters into your own hands, lifting your top over your head and flinging it somewhere on the floor.

Then your bra follows to join your shirt, wherever it may be. Minho assumes they’ve landed on the bottle of rosé, only guessing by the sound of the glass being knocked over and rolling around. He’s not sure but he doesn’t care about it enough to look, not when he’s got you right here under him, so beautiful and so willing that it makes his head spin.

He’s imagined this before, just a few times whenever he's drunk enough to let his mind wander without the guilt that comes with it when he’s sober. He has wondered before what it would feel like to kiss you breathless and have you kiss him back, to touch you in ways that no one else ever has, to taste how sweet you are and feel your warmth. None of it is appropriate, not at all platonic. He’s well aware of it.

It's been years, ever since Minho met you at that party when he was 19 and you had been too awkward to start a conversation. Years of walking with you in the rain after class, sharing umbrellas that are too small to shield the both of you but it’s okay, because he doesn’t mind leaving half of his body exposed to the harsh weather as long as the rain doesn’t get on you. Years of making sure you get home safely after nights out with your friends, years of insisting that he sees you walk inside your building and up to your floor whether it's 11PM or 4:30AM. Years of lingering glances, of pretending he isn’t bothered whenever Felix offers to introduce you to someone, of smiles sent your way that are far too endeared to mean nothing at all.

Years of loving you in silence because he’s your friend first and foremost, and his friendship with you means more to him than the feelings he has for you.

And yet...

He’s here in your bed, watching you with mesmerized eyes as you take off the rest of your clothes before helping him discard his, as you kiss him just as deeply as he’s wanted to kiss you for the longest time, as you keep pulling him into you even when he’s already as close to you as humanly possible. His lips on yours, his heart pressed against the other side of yours. His fingers intertwined with yours when he slips inside of you, and how your hands stay interlocked the entire time you’re wrapped together. You cling to him so tightly, as though it would hurt you if he were to ever let go.

It’s the way you look at him, like he’s the only person that exists in your universe. It’s the broken moans that you give him, the nonsense babbles that make his chest swell with pride at the knowledge that he’s making you feel so good that the only thing you know how to say coherently is his name. It’s the heaven between your thighs, absolutely divine and infinitely better than any fantasy that he could ever let himself indulge in.

Just for tonight, Minho can pretend that you're his, even though he knows that he’s already been yours since the first time you met. He’s been yours for as long as he can remember, even if you don’t know it yet.

Later on, when he’s collapsed next to you on the bed, there’s a safe distance between your tired bodies and a certain tension in the air that’s heavy with the consequences of your actions. When he takes your hand, the one that’s shaking as you grip the sheets between your fingers, it alleviates some of that anxiety.

“The fortune cookie, what did it say?” he asks, like you’re simply continuing the conversation from before.

You let out a nervous chuckle. “Seriously?”

He gives you a lopsided smile, rubbing his thumb over your skin. “Seriously.”

You purse your lips as you look at him for another second before you cast your eyes to the ceiling again, like you’d done just an hour ago. “It said ‘You’ll be loved.’”

You are, he thinks to himself. You’re loved.

“Open wide.”

You give him a look, to which he only responds with a shrug and a sly grin. 

“You’re enjoying this too much,” you say, but you take the spoonful of chicken soup that he offers you anyway. You can’t focus on the taste but it’s warm and the relief you feel is instant when it soothes your throat.

You’ve practically been on bedrest for the past three days, slowly rotting away in your apartment with a bad strain of the seasonal flu until Minho came over and unleashed his inner mama bear on you. Now here you are, wrapped up like a burrito on the couch (Minho insisted; he wouldn’t have it any other way) while he spoon feeds you homemade chicken soup.

You were stubborn about it at first, as one could probably imagine. When you told the group chat that you wouldn’t make it to movie night at Chan’s place last weekend, you were adamant that you would be able to sleep it off and bounce back in no time, despite Minho offering to make you some food and bring over some meds and cough drops.

The symptoms worsened overnight though, and you developed a fever along with a cough that’s worse than any you’ve ever experienced. When Minho called you to make sure you were still alive, you could barely even speak.

He hates your cavalier attitude when it comes to taking care of yourself. He hates himself even more for believing in your nonchalance and not bulldozing his way over sooner.

“I’m enjoying this because I was right,” he says, feeding you more of the soup. “I told you instant ramyeon wouldn’t cure you.”

He lets his I told you so triumph go easily, even though he suspects that you have much more to bite back at him if you could get through half a sentence without wanting to hack your lungs out. You make a noise, and he isn’t really sure if it’s one of agreement or protest but it’s most likely the latter. He thinks it’s cute that you close your eyes after every spoonful, lazily eating like one of his cats back home whenever they’ve run out of energy. You’re probably tired and can’t wait to get into bed.

When the soup is finished, Minho fetches you your meds and a glass of warm water. He doesn’t know if the scrunched up face you make after every pill is because you hate the bitter taste or if the tablets keep dragging against your already sensitive throat on their way down, but he strokes your hair all the while you wash it down with water, a gentle hand on your head as if to say You’re doing well.

He tucks you in bed not long after, despite your weak protests as he carries you to your bedroom.

“Oh my god,” you had managed to croak out. “I’m not that helpless.”

“I know,” came his response and a teasing smile. “Just let me take care of you for once.”

You’re pliant once you’re laid gently on the mattress though, idly watching Minho as he wraps the duvet around your shoulders and fluffs your pillows just the way you like. This is awfully domestic, he notes, and he can’t help but lean down and press a kiss to your forehead, not when he’s absolutely endeared by the way your tired eyes try to keep themselves open just so you could look at him.

When his lips leave your warm skin, he thinks he might’ve imagined the blush that colors your cheeks.

But he blinks, and you’re still flushed, your lips slightly parted as you stare at him, mild surprise evident in your drowsy gaze.

Something passes over the two of you, a kind of silence that he isn’t accustomed to when he’s with you. It isn’t bad, it’s just… strange.

One beat, then another. “Want me to stay with you?” he asks.

He knows you’d say no, and yet he can’t help the disappointment when you tell him, “You don’t have to. Go home, Min. Thanks for taking care of me today.”

“You sure? I can take the couch. It’s fine.”

“I’m sure. Chan and Jess said they’re coming to check on me in the morning.”

Minho lets out a hum, and purses his lips.

“What?” you ask.

“I didn’t say anything.”

“But you look like you want to.”

“Just… y’know,” he starts, gauging your reaction all the while, for any signs of physical discomfort or otherwise, “I like you like this. You’re not hiding when you’re like this.”

“You like me frail and on the verge of death?”

He rolls his eyes, pretends to flick at your forehead. “You know what I mean.”

When you giggle, it’s immediately followed by a wince, like the movement is hurting your sensitive throat. “Do I hide when I’m with you?”

“Sometimes.” He moves his hand to caress your face, gentle fingertips tracing the apple of your cheek. Surprisingly, you let him, if only for a little while. “It feels like you’re always ready to leave.”

“Are you worried I’m gonna run away?” you ask, covering your hand over his to move it away, but you still let his touch linger when you only lower his hand to your neck, where he starts twiddling your hair between his fingers. It feels like you want him close, close enough that it matters, close in a way that still lets you have control over how it matters. “I physically can’t. I’m sick.”

“Does that mean you’ll run away when you get better?”

You seem to ponder the question for a moment. You’re holding onto his wrist and Minho is almost certain that you can feel his pulse. He would do so many things for you if only you’d let him.

When you answer him, you keep things light but your tone is soft, gentle in a way that tells him your sentiment means more than the words you cherry pick on the surface.

 “No, I have finals in two weeks.”

The first time that Minho gets to wake up next to you, nothing feels real. Not the pleasant scent of your shampoo greeting him the minute he opens his eyes, not your soft breath fanning his bare collarbone where you lay with your head tucked into the crook of his neck, not even the feeling of you in his arms, safe and warm, as though this is where you’re meant to be. None of it seems like anything other than a dream.

When memories of the previous night come rushing to the surface, it also brings back the annoyance he felt watching Yeonjun openly flirt with you at the party, and the bitter feeling that accompanied the reminder that Minho couldn’t even really do anything about it but stand idly by. 

But you stir in his arms, and all of the annoyance and bitterness goes away. Because you’re here with him and not anybody else. There’s a certain ego boost knowing that he’s the one you kiss, the only one you allow in your most personal space. To know you is a privilege, and it’s one that you grant no one else but him.

Last night, something happened. Something changed, he felt it when you were the one who asked him to stay. You let him put his shirt on you, let him hold you as you slept, even welcomed his embrace and snuggled further into his body in a way that you’ve never done before.

How you kissed him just hours prior, how you looked at him… God, he thinks he could just spill all of his secrets if you did it again.

But when you open your eyes, Minho is already pretending to be asleep again. How would you react? He’s curious to know. Would you scramble away the second the realization kicks in that you let him break your rule? Would you leave his side and act all nonchalant about it when you inevitably have to face each other later? He’s willing to bet that you would.

But you surprise him again. He feels you watching him for a moment, then your touch ghosts upon his features. It almost makes him falter in his act, your gentle fingers tracing his temple, his cheekbones, the slope of his nose down to his lips. There’s a sigh that you exhale, and he misses your touch the very second it leaves his skin. He itches to bring you closer to him again.

So that’s what he does. Minho keeps the facade going, pretending like he’s now just waking up with his limbs stretching out. You stiffen when he hugs you tighter, but you soon relax after he starts stroking your hair. 

Nothing has changed for him, but can you say the same?

“Dude!”

Minho flinches into action when a voice calls his name right by the car window, loud enough to startle him even through the thick layer of glass. When he turns his head, he finds Changbin’s face all pressed up against the window, struggling to hold three bags full of supplies that are threatening to spill out. “Help me with these!” his friend says.

It’s the week of Jisung, Felix and Seungmin’s birthdays; you lot tends to go all out for the quadruple birthday bash every year (Chan’s birthday is only 11 days later after all). Seungmin’s family has a lakeside cabin a couple hours from the city, that’s where everyone goes to unwind for a long weekend with plenty of food and even more drinks. This year, it’s no different.

Minho and Changbin are on drinks duty, tasked with picking up all of the alcohol and refreshments for the weekend ahead. He doesn’t really know what the rest are doing, just that you and Jeongin are babysitting Hyunjin to make sure the latter doesn’t deviate from the proposed budget and go way overboard when getting snacks and decorations. You sent Minho a text a while ago, a video of you facepalming and rolling your eyes before you flip the camera over to show Hyunjin and Jeongin bickering like children over a mega pack of chips.

Once everything is in the car – cases of beer safely loaded into the trunk, bottles of water and soft drinks set in their designated plastic bags in the backseat, Changbin comments from the driver’s seat, “You looked weird. You were smiling.”

Minho only stares at him for a moment, a neutral expression on his face as he blinks those typical Minho blinks, before he turns his head to the other side to lean against the window.

He was thinking about the first time your tradition started, the first year Jess had to drag you on the trip. She used to do it often; you were shy in the beginning.

He’s got a favorite memory of you, and it wasn’t you and him sitting together on the bank of the river during the sunset, while the others were in the water, splashing around and having the time of your lives (you two were the only ones who couldn’t swim, but it was okay, you didn’t feel like you missed out on anything because at least you had each other).

His favorite memory of you wasn’t running into you in the middle of the night when he went into the kitchen for some water and you were out by yourself on the adjacent balcony, sitting with your chin resting on your folded knees and the crescent moon for company. He stayed there for a moment, dazed, wondering if he was still dreaming or if it was just you. When Minho finally made his presence known, you told him you couldn’t sleep and he suggested that you break into Hyunjin’s secret ramyeon stash, because going to bed with a full stomach always made him feel better whenever he was restless. 1:58AM, you ended up almost burning your hand on the stove, too busy trying to keep your giggles down when he made a stupid joke.

Minho’s favorite memory wasn’t of you falling asleep on his shoulder on the drive back either, with you squished in the backseat between him and Felix, and your light snores reminded him of Soonie whenever the cat would doze off on his chest. It wasn’t any of these moments, even though he thinks he might’ve loved you in every instance.

His favorite memory of you was the evening before that trip had to come to an end, the last night you all spent together before you had to leave your safe little bubble. It was after dinner and some drinks, everyone was buzzed and the air was crisp, chilly every now and then. When you were gathered on the dock overlooking the lake, each holding a sparkler that Jisung had prepared, you were laughing. Everyone else was laughing too, but yours was the only sound Minho could focus on.

“Be quiet. I’m gonna take a nap,” he tells Changbin, ignoring the comment entirely as he closes his eyes. “Wake me when we get to Chan’s.”

The lights, and your friends, and the moon hanging high up in the sky like a guardian angel back then.

You were watching how it all reflected so beautifully in the rippling waters below. He was watching you.

“You really don’t see it, do you?”

His question hangs in the awful silence as you stare at him. Minho can see your nails digging into your palms where your fists are clenched, your glassy eyes and the frown between your brows, like you’re trying your hardest to hold back tears. Why else would you be so upset?

He’s known about it for a while, or at the very least, he’s had an inkling of how you feel about him. He knows he isn’t in over his head when he says there’s a certain glow that radiates from within you when you’re together, a side of you that’s tender and at peace, one that he’s never seen you show anyone else. The way you look at him, it’s the same way that he looks at you even if you don’t realize it yet, or maybe you just don’t want to admit it out loud.

It hasn’t been one sided for at least some time now, he knows it.

But it’s frustrating to watch you try so hard to fight it. He’s the only one holding on, and you’ve been willing to let go at every turn.

“See what?” you challenge.

This isn’t how he planned to ever say these words, but the moment is here whether he likes it or not. It’s staring at you both in the face even if you are doing your best to hide from it.

Minho holds your gaze for a few seconds before he steps toward you again. This time, you stand your ground.

“You asked me if things changed for me and I said no. That was the truth, I never lied to you. We’re friends but that doesn’t mean I haven’t seen you as something more from the beginning.”

He pauses there, watches your eyes and how you take it in. They soften a little, filling up some more as you process his words. There’s surprise in the look that you wear, sure. A little confusion, yes. But most of all, you just look sad. When you call out his name, he can tell by your tone that it’s a warning, that you’re about to run away for real this time if he presses on, and yet he can’t stop until he says his piece.

“If you want me to spell it out for you, I’ve had feelings for you since we first met. I’m in love with you. I’ve been in love with you for so long that I can’t remember what it feels like not to love you, and it drives me crazy that you don’t see any of it. The thing that makes me even crazier, do you know what it is? I think you feel something for me too, but you won’t admit it to yourself and you always resort to shutting down instead of facing your feelings. How much longer are you going to run away from me?”

When the first tear unintentionally spills over from the corner of your eye, Minho knows he’s struck a nerve. He wants to reach out and wipe away the tiny stream that rolls down your face but you beat him to it, wiping at your cheek in angry motions.

“You’re wrong.” Your voice is tight when you tell him, “I don’t have feelings for you.” It’s the only thing that you address.

Sometimes, he searches for your answer at the bottom of a glass, or on the other end of looks that seem to linger just a beat too long. But as he’s standing here, right now, he finds it in your hesitation to speak, in the lie you give him when you finally do.

It’s the answer he’s always wanted and yet, the knowledge brings him no satisfaction at all. It only lodges a lump in his throat, an overwhelming sense of dejection when he sees how hard you’re trying to fight this.

“I know you,” he sighs after a moment, a little defeated. “I know when you’re lying.”

“Maybe you don’t know me that well after all.”

You’re stubborn. You’ve always been stubborn.

Minho takes another step forward. It feels like it’s a step closer to the end as you both know it, because how else is your relationship going to come back from this? He sees the slight shake in your shoulders that you try to suppress, but he’ll always be the one to notice. 

“Tell me you don’t love me,” he says quietly, his final resort. A challenge but it sounds an awful lot like a plea. He doesn’t understand how it’s possible that things can take a turn for the worse in just two weeks’ time. The last time you both were here, you’d kissed his endeared smile and held him so impossibly close to you. Now, everything is falling apart, the seams coming undone one by one. “Look me in the eye and tell me you don’t love me.”

Minho meant what he said, about how loving you drives him crazy sometimes. Even when you’re breaking his heart, he still thinks you’re the most beautiful girl in the world. A noticeable sting settles in between the cracks of his ribcage at the sight of your quivering bottom lip, your balled up fists and his own reflection in your glassy eyes.

“Do you want me to say it so badly?” you ask, and he can only stare at you when your voice comes out harsher than it was before, though it cracks toward the end as you try to keep up with the facade. “Fine, I’ll say it.”

It’s not what he asked, but it’s confirmation nonetheless. It’s acceptance but not how he wants it to be. Acceptance that you do love him, and yet, you say it in a way that he’s never expected to hear from you.

“I don’t want to love you.”

all rights reserved © withleeknow. reposting, translating and/or modifying is not permitted by any means. [posted 28.08.2024]

[inkspiredwriting]

Hickey Havoc

Five Hargreeves x Fem!reader

Warnings: none

The Hargreeves mansion was unusually quiet on this crisp morning. The siblings, each engrossed in their own activities, had gathered for breakfast in the large, sunlit kitchen. Luther was eating, Allison was flipping through her phone, Klaus was applying nail polish, Viktor was reading a newspaper, Ben was sipping coffee, and Diego was sharpening his knives.

Five strode into the kitchen, his usually impeccable suit slightly askew, and his collar turned up. He looked around suspiciously, as if expecting an ambush.

"Morning," he muttered, heading straight for the coffee pot.

Klaus, paused mid-brush stroke. "Morning, Five," he said, his tone overly innocent. "Have a good night?"

Five gave him a sidelong glance. "What’s it to you?"

"Oh, nothing," Klaus replied, a mischievous glint in his eye. "Just curious if you’ve… been anywhere interesting."

Diego, sensing something, glanced up. "Yeah, Five. You seem… different today."

"Different?" Five asked, trying to keep his tone nonchalant as he poured his coffee.

"Yeah," Diego said, his eyes narrowing. "Like maybe you’ve been… marked."

Five stiffened, almost spilling his coffee. "What are you talking about?"

Klaus leaned in closer, pointing at Five’s neck. "I think what Diego means is… did you get attacked by a vampire last night?"

Five’s hand shot up to his collar, trying to cover the hickey he’d been desperately trying to hide. "It’s nothing. Just… a bruise."

Luther raised an eyebrow, finally catching on. "A bruise? Looks more like someone’s been… having fun."

"Very funny," Five grumbled, but his cheeks tinged pink.

Allison, now fully interested, leaned over to get a better look. "Oh my God, is that really a hickey?"

Viktor, setting the newspaper down, tried to hide his grin. "Never thought I’d see the day."

Ben chuckled into his coffee. "Looks like Five’s been busy."

Before Five could come up with a retort, Y/n, Klaus's best friend, and now Five's girlfriend, walked into the kitchen, still half-asleep and wearing one of Five’s shirts. She yawned, stretching, and then froze as she realized the entire family was staring at her.

"What’s going on?" Y/n asked, looking around at the faces of Five’s siblings.

"Oh, nothing," Klaus said, with exaggerated casualness. "Just admiring Five’s new… accessory."

Y/n’s eyes widened as she realized they were talking about the hickey. "Oh no," she muttered, touching her neck where a similar mark was visible.

"Matching hickeys!" Diego exclaimed, laughing. "This is too good."

"And you," Allison said, pointing to Y/n. "You’re the culprit!"

Y/n turned a bright shade of red, tugging at the collar of Five’s shirt. "It’s… not what it looks like."

"Right," Luther said, smirking. "Because it doesn’t look like you and Five had a wild night or anything."

"Honestly," Ben said, laughing. "That's hilarious."

"There are no details," Five snapped, though he couldn’t hide his smile. "It’s none of your business."

"Oh, but it is," Klaus said, leaning back with a triumphant grin. "When you sneak around like that, it becomes very much our business."

"Sneak around?" Five asked, raising an eyebrow. "We weren’t sneaking around. We were—"

"Having a stormy night?" Viktor suggested, his eyes twinkling.

Y/n groaned, burying her face in her hands. "You guys are impossible."

After the morning’s teasing, Five and Y/n retreated to the living room to escape the relentless jokes from Five's siblings. They sat on the couch, trying to find some peace.

"I can’t believe they noticed," Y/n said, shaking her head. "How do they even notice stuff like that?"

"They’re nosy," Five replied, rubbing his temples. "And they love having something to tease me about."

"Well, it’s not like we were hiding anything," Y/n said, though she was blushing.

"I didn’t think they’d be this relentless," Five admitted. "But then again, they’re the Hargreeves."

Y/n laughed, leaning against him. "At least we gave them something to talk about."

"Yeah," Five said, wrapping an arm around her. "But maybe next time we should be a bit more careful."

"Or not," Y/n said, grinning up at him. "Let them have their fun."

Five sighed, but he couldn’t help but smile. "You’re right. It’s just a hickey. Not the end of the world."

Y/n kissed his cheek. "Exactly. And hey, at least now they know we’re together."

"True," Five said, chuckling. "Though I’m not sure if that’s a good thing or a bad thing."

"Definitely a good thing," Y/n said, snuggling closer. "Let them tease. We know what we have."

That evening, the siblings gathered for dinner, still buzzing about the morning’s discovery. Five and Y/n walked in together, holding hands, and the teasing began anew.

"Look who decided to join us," Diego said, smirking. "The lovebirds."

"Did you have a nice nap?" Klaus asked, winking. "Or were you… otherwise occupied?"

"Guys," Five said, rolling his eyes. "Can we just eat dinner without any comments about our… activities?"

"No promises," Allison said, smiling. "But we’ll try."

"That’s all we ask," Y/n said, squeezing Five’s hand under the table.

As dinner progressed, the teasing subsided, but not without a few more jabs about their "secret" relationship. In the end, Five and Y/n laughed along with them, realizing that no matter how much they were teased, they wouldn’t trade this family—or each other—for anything.