#bc I want to shout out the two things that made me really think about this a lot

[andro-dino]

rewatching icebound is so crazy because of how many little details and things derek sprinkles in that suddenly make SO much more sense with the foresight of later reveals and stuff. like I know they make jokes and comments about how insanely detailed derek is as a dm and how much he has planned out but like holy shit it is SO true bc OH MY GOD

[the-physicality]

paige shouting out tash cloud at every opportunity....love that

[atlabeth]

bend an ear

pairing: peter parker x fem reader

summary: your boyfriend doesn't listen to you. good thing your friendly neighborhood spider-man does.

a/n: there's just something about him idk. andrew garfield spidey bc of course! look at him! this came from me playing the spider-man game after it went on sale and yearning for peter parker (will prob have to rewatch the movies bc of this) anyways hope you like it

wc: 3.6k

warning(s): reader's bf is shitty -- they argue for a while and he lowkey slut shames her. but this is basically all fluff otherwise bc childhood best friends to lovers babby!!! real yearning loverboy hours!!!

Peter just wants to go home.��

It’s been… a day. He got his ass kicked by an English test (he doesn’t have time to do the readings when he’s fighting crime), got his ass kicked by Flash Thompson (it’s not like he can fight back with his super strength and pulverize his ribs), and has spent every second since his final class ended fighting petty crimes around the city. 

Stopping ATM thefts and minor muggings feels good, sure, but on days like these, it doesn’t really make up for failing intro literature classes and getting absolutely zero sleep. He’s just thankful May is still letting him live with her while he studies at ESU—if he had to do all of this in addition to trying to make his rent? He doesn’t really want to think about it. 

So he swung his way to the roof of some random building, and he’s taking a break. Sue him, but Peter thinks he deserves it. What’s the point of living in a city like New York if you can’t have a second to yourself every once in a while? 

He’ll go home soon. Grab a bodega sandwich, maybe stop another crime, and then get home for some much needed rest. But for now, he’s just going to sit on this rooftop and relax for a second. Even Spider-man needs some peace and— 

“Babe—” 

“Why are you following me?”

Peter winces as the door slams open, an argument following close after as a girl storms out onto the roof followed by a guy speeding to keep up with her. His first instinct is to swing away as soon as possible, but for some reason, he stays. 

“Because I want to talk!”

“God, do you even hear yourself?” 

“You keep talking over me, so I really—” 

“You don’t get to babe me right now!” 

As if his day hadn’t been bad enough, now he’s accidentally made himself privy to some couple’s dispute. He’s about to web himself out of this third wheeling nightmare when the girl turns around with a groan, revealing her face, and Peter realizes who it is. 

It’s you.

This is your apartment complex. Peter came here without even realizing it, but can he really be surprised? Your name is synonymous with peace in his brain. Comes with the territory of being friends for so long—it still calms him, even when you’re being the opposite of peaceful. 

“I don’t get why you’re acting like this!” the guy exclaims, frustration clear in his voice. 

Of course. Why wouldn’t your shitty boyfriend be here too? The only reason you live here is because you scored this place together; said he didn’t want you living on campus anymore. Ethan Frey might be the bane of Peter’s existence after two and a half years of him being your boyfriend. 

“Because you and your posse are acting like complete jags in front of all my friends!” you shout back. 

He laughs in disbelief. “I’m just being myself, babe. Besides, you’re the one who said I could invite them!” 

“Because you complained about it just being my friends,” you grind out. “You weren’t even supposed to be here, Ethan! You just can’t handle the thought of me being around guys that aren’t you!” 

“Well, what the hell am I supposed to think, huh?” He gestures wildly. “You spend every second with that geek and I’m supposed to believe you’re not into him?” 

And now he’s eavesdropping on a conversation between you and your boyfriend about him. How could this get worse? 

“God, it isn’t like that at all!” you exclaim with a mirthless laugh. “Peter is my friend— my best friend since elementary school. You knew when we got together that wasn’t going to change.” 

“Yeah,” he says, nodding lazily, “but that was before I knew how obvious his hard-on for you was.” 

Peter feels his face heat beneath the mask, wants to wipe the sweat off his palms. That’s how it could get worse. 

Your nostrils flare as you turn away, your hands flexing while you shake your head. “Get out of here, Ethan.” 

“Oh, of course that’s where you draw the line,” Ethan mocks. “When I bring up fuckin’ Peter Parker.” He pauses then chuckles. “You’d love that, wouldn’t you?” 

Peter nearly intervenes right then and there, wanting to stop this mess before Ethan does anything to hurt you. But revealing himself sounds like the worst possible thing to do, so for once he listens to the rational part of his brain over the emotional. 

“He’s not even here!” you retort. “I live with you, not him. I’m dating you, not him. Why are you bringing him up?” 

“Because I’m not blind.” Ethan crosses his arms. “Y’know, I thought you’d get over this little thing after you let me take you out, but for some reason, it’s exactly the same. I swear you spend more time with him than me.”

Your hands clench into fists. “Get out of here.” 

He scoffs. “You want me to leave you up here?” 

“Yes,” you nod. 

“God, you’ve been acting crazy this whole night!” he complains. “You’ll freeze up here. Just get over it—we’ll go back down, I’ll get you a beer—” 

“I hate beer.” 

“Then I’ll get you a fucking apple juice,” he spits. “Just stop being so dramatic.” 

“You’re not listening to me!” you shout. “I want you to leave me alone!” 

This time he says your name, and you shake your head. 

“Go back to the apartment,” you interrupt. “Because if I have to spend another second with you, our relationship might not make it through the night.”

For once, Ethan is silent as he stares at you. You stare back with no sign of giving up. Eventually, he just huffs and shakes his head. 

“Whatever.” He starts walking towards the door. “You better cool off up here, because I’m not dealing with this shit when you come back down.” 

You stare at the door for a good twenty seconds once he closes the door—slams it, rather—before you angrily kick a stray soda can. Your childhood days of rec soccer must still be in you, because you get an arc on it. Just before it can go over the side of the building, Peter shoots a web to catch it wholly on instinct. 

Your eyes widen as you dart around, and Peter is finally spotted from his place on top of the roof door building thing. What is that even called? He doesn’t really have time to think about it. The aluminum can crunches as it flies into his hand, and you stare at him in complete shock. 

“Uh,” his mouth suddenly feels very dry, but he has to make some excuse for why he’s up here, “littering is bad.” 

Good one, Parker. 

“You’re Spider-man,” you say, eyes still wide. 

“The one and only,” he nods. 

“Oh my god,” you mumble, finally seeming to break out of your shock as you cover your mouth and turn away. “Oh my god, Spider-man just heard my relationship falling apart.” 

“I didn’t hear anything!” Peter exclaims. “I—”

You shoot him the withering look he loves so much, that was able to get his bullies to shrink on the spot in high school—it feels weird being on the receiving end of it. 

“I’m not stupid,” you say. 

“I kn—” He has to stop himself from saying I know, because realistically Spider-man has no idea who you are. “I’m sorry.” 

You huff and cross your arms. “Do your superhero duties include eavesdropping on failing couples?” 

“It was an accident,” Peter says. “I was up here before you were. So technically, you were eavesdropping on my actual superhero duties.” 

You laugh, and he smiles just at the sound of it. One benefit to wearing the mask, because it would expose him right on the spot. “Oh yeah? And what are those?” 

“Patrolling the streets,” he says. “I’ve got a very good vantage point from up here.” 

You hum, your mood turning a bit more morose as you glance away. “Well, I’m sorry you had to hear all that during your patrol.” 

“I’m sorry you had to go through it,” he says. “Your boyfriend sounds like an asshole.” 

You roll your eyes. “He’s fine, most of the time. Just had a little bit too much to drink.” 

Peter will never understand why you defend Ethan so much. You’ve been together since freshman year and he’s only gotten worse since then—maybe he hides how he is around you, because he hasn’t really shied away from showing Peter how much he hates him this past year.

“He looked pretty sober to me,” Peter says. “And trust me, I have plenty of experience fighting guys that have had too much to drink.” 

You huff. “What are you, a spider-therapist?” 

“I’m good at a lot of things,” he says. “And I’m always good for bending an ear.”

“Surely you have better things to do than listen to me complain.” 

Peter shakes his head. “My schedule’s pretty clear right now, actually.”

“Really?” you marvel. “There’s no crime in New York City at,” you check your watch, “11:37 pm?”

“Absolutely none,” he says. “I solved it all. At least for now.”

You laugh again at that and gesture with your head as you walk over to the edge of the roof. “Then I guess I’ll take you up on that offer.”

Peter jumps down and follows you over. You hoist yourself on top of the wall, legs dangling over the edge, and he feels himself frown as he leans his back against the wall and looks up at you. 

“Isn’t that a little dangerous?” 

“You’ll catch me if I fall,” you say. 

“Obviously,” Peter says. “I’m supposed to encourage safe behavior in New Yorkers, though.” 

You laugh and tilt your head up towards the night sky. The moonlight reflects in your eyes and Peter knows he could get lost in them forever. “Just this once, then.” 

“I think I can let it slide.” 

“Good.” 

A comfortable beat of silence passes between the two of you, and Peter finds himself smiling. No wonder he ended up at your place out of instinct. There’s nothing else like your company. 

“I always think it’ll be different,” you murmur. Peter glances up at you, your expression shifted to something more melancholic. “We’ll have a good day, which’ll turn into a good week and a good month, but he always does something to mess it up. It’s like it’s in his DNA.” 

He stays silent as you think. Most of the time when you rant to Peter, you just want to be heard, not given advice. At this point, he’s an expert at listening to you. It’s not like he minds. 

“I want things to work out. I— I still love him. I mean, I think I do. But everything is a fucking struggle with him. If I don’t do things the exact way he wants, if I try to do something for me instead of him, if I can’t read his fucking mind, then he loses it and we argue. And I’m so fucking tired of arguing!” 

Your voice has risen by now, and you bite down hard on your cheek. Peter doesn’t realize he’s started reaching towards you to comfort you until you look back down at him, and he runs his hand over his head in an effort to cover it up. 

“I’m sorry,” you sigh. “I promise, I’m a much nicer person than this. You just caught me at the worst time.”

“Don’t worry,” he says. “I know.”

Your brows rise. “Spider-man knows I’m a nice person?”

“I can just tell,” he rushes, trying to save himself. He’s doing a real good job at not revealing his identity. “I’m good at reading people.”

You chuckle and shake your head, then adjust your position so your back is towards the open air. It makes Peter nervous, he can’t lie, but it’s not like he’s not a superhero. 

“So, spider-therapist,” you say. “Any advice?” 

So this is one of the rare times you do want answers. Peter wonders if you’ll leave your boyfriend if Spider-man tells you to. 

“He doesn’t sound great,” Peter says, inclining his head. “How many times have you argued this week?” 

“Four,” you say. “Five, if you include tonight.” 

He whistles. “And it’s only Wednesday.”

You tip your shoulder. “We’re efficient.” 

“And unhappy, it sounds like.” 

“We’re not unhappy,” you defend. “We’re just…” 

“You’re up here talking to me instead of down there with him,” Peter says wryly. “That doesn’t exactly scream ‘happy couple’.” 

You shake your head with another sigh. “It’s because he can’t get over Peter.” 

He tries to act as nonchalant as possible when you bring him up. Is this an invasion of privacy? Letting you talk to him about all this when you have no idea who Spider-man actually is? 

Instead of floundering over moral qualms, he just clears his throat. “And who’s he?” 

“My best friend,” you say. “The one person who’s been by my side since the second I moved to New York. He means everything to me.”

Peter feels his heart skip a beat. “Yeah?” 

“He’s like— like the opposite of Ethan, and it’s wonderful. I guess that’s why Pete irks him so much. Y’know,” you pull out your phone and start typing in your password, “maybe I should call him. He always knows what to say.” 

“No!” Peter exclaims with a bit too much force, causing you to give him a look. “No— I mean, it’s late. He’s probably asleep. And— and it’s a school night?” 

You tilt your head, and Peter exhales when it seems to work. “True. He’s probably studying for that biochem test.” You grimace. “I should be doing that too.” 

He watches you type out a few texts and send them, and Peter’s never been more thankful to have his phone on silent. What a way that would be to blow his cover. 

You shove your phone back in your pocket with another sigh. “I just hate that my boyfriend and my best friend don’t get along. I love them both—why can’t they like each other?” 

“I mean…” Peter trails off when you look at him, and he gestures with his head. “It seems pretty obvious why they don’t get along.” 

“Yeah,” you say dryly. “Because Ethan thinks Peter likes me, and he probably thinks I have some secret crush on him too. I swear, he’s always looking for a reason to fight.” 

God, could the universe be calling him out any more? It’s honestly ridiculous how this is going. 

“Do you?” Peter asks, because he can’t help himself. “Like him, I mean.” 

“I don’t know,” you murmur. “I love Pete, I do. It’s always been the two of us no matter what. But I…”

He holds his breath as he tries not to look at you, tries not to make it too obvious that he might have stumbled his way into his simultaneous dream and nightmare scenario. 

He’s had a crush on you for what feels like forever. Since you stood up for him against his bullies in elementary school, honestly, and it’s only grown over the years as the two of you have grown. From recesses spent together and bike rides through the city; spending the night in Peter’s apartment because it was easier for your sister to let it happen than try and drag you back home; endless nights with heads bent over textbooks trying to study for tests, over college applications trying to get into the same place, and now studying and researching near every damn weekend together because you’re both unfortunate enough to try for ESU STEM degrees. 

You were there when Ben died. He’s there on every anniversary of your parents’ accident. Without knowing it, you were there when he got bit and his whole life turned upside down. 

You and Peter have been there every step of the way for each other, and it’s why he’s content with just friendship—Peter wants you in his life no matter what. But he can’t lie and say he doesn’t hope. 

No, actually. He yearns. He’s doomed to be a yearner for the rest of his life because he’ll never stop loving you. How could he? 

“I’m not sure,” you finally say with a sigh. “All I know is that I’d rather be with Pete tonight than Ethan.”

Peter wonders if your chest compressions are still as good as they were in high school, because he feels like he’s about to have a heart attack. 

You’d rather be spending tonight with him than your boyfriend of two years and seven months, and Peter isn’t even supposed to know. 

You mistake his silent freakout for nonchalance, and you clear your throat as you jump back onto solid ground. 

“Well, I’ve spilled my soul to you,” you say wryly, crossing your arms. “Anything a superhero can spill in return?”

Peter thinks for a good, long second. His hands itch to take off his mask, to do what he’s wanted to do since he got bitten by that stupid spider and show you who he really is. 

How many times has he been a total asshole, canceling plans on you because he had to go stop some supervillain from wreaking havoc in Times Square? How many times has he been late to something important to you because he was caught up stopping dime a dozen muggings? He still remembers the look on your face when he showed up just in time to miss the entirety of Les Mis’s opening night with your first lead role. 

You were a better best friend to Peter than he was to you because of this stupid mask. If he took it off, it wouldn’t make every mistake fade away, but it would sure help explain some of it. 

But Peter has been doing this since high school, and he has seen far too many times what happens to the loved ones of heroes. They’re used as leverage, used for ransom, sometimes just straight up killed.

You’ve been friends with Peter since you and your sister moved into the apartment next to May’s thirteen years ago. It doesn’t matter if you never share Peter’s feelings. You’re one of the only constants in his life, and he’s not going to lose you because he’s too selfish to keep a secret. 

Losing you would be the last straw. He couldn’t take it. 

So Peter pushes all thoughts of secret identities revealed out of his mind and tries to chuckle convincingly. 

“I’m allergic to peppermint, believe it or not.” 

You stare at him, deadpan. “That’s nowhere close to all the shit I just gave you.” 

“It’s true!” he exclaims, holding up his hands. “Happened after I got bit by the spider. They’re repelled by peppermint oil, and I guess I am too.” 

You shake your head in disbelief. “I can’t believe Spider-man is a coward.” 

“A superhero’s gotta have some secrets,” he says, and he taps the side of his head. “Otherwise this thing doesn’t do much good.” 

“Yeah, yeah,” you say. “Whatever.” 

A chill suddenly goes up Peter’s spine and he whips around—he can hear a distant scream followed by a distant gunshot, and he mentally curses. 

“Duty calls?” you ask, drawing his attention back to you. 

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m sorry—” 

“Don’t be.” You smile, and it’s genuine. A nice change from the state Ethan effortlessly puts you in. “You went out of your way to cheer me up. Pretty super of you.” 

“I hope it makes up for the eavesdropping,” he says. 

“More than,” you nod. “Now get out of here. Your city needs you.” 

Peter nods too, and he backflips onto his original spot. “Have a good night. You’re real special to somebody.” 

He’s gone before you can say anything else, already zipping across the rooftops to get to the scene of the crime. Peter can only think of your face as he swings through the air—all the things he’s too scared to say to you. 

The crime, which turns out to be yet another petty theft, is resolved easily enough with some punches, kicks, and a snappy one-liner. Once he’s retrieved the woman’s purse and alerted the police, he’s back in the sky. 

Peter only stops once he’s swung a couple miles away, perching on the edge of some rooftop for some actual peace and quiet. He checks around once or twice to make sure he’s not somehow back at your place, and when he’s sure it’s all clear, he pulls his phone out. He swipes past all the notifications he’s racked up until he finds the one he’s looking for: the texts from you. 

hey pete, I know you’re prob asleep rn but you were right. I really need to study for that test lol

wanna meet me at the library tomorrow after QM? I’ll buy the coffee this time i promise <3 

as long as you use your roomie’s dining dollars to get me a croissant lol 

Peter can’t help but smile, larger than anything tonight. This is why he’s okay with being nothing but your friend for the rest of his life. 

Deal. Anything to get you an A 

lol

asshole 

Never 

Try to get some sleep. No good studying on a tired brain 

Three dots appear for a good long second, enough to constitute a decent paragraph—then they disappear. In its place: 

I’ll try just for you 

night boy genius

(How could he not love you?) 

Night, girl wonder

[slut4hee]

Red Lights

{Paring: Rockstar Sim Jaeyun x Groupie Fem! Reader

{Genre: smut, electric guitarist jake, 18+ so (mdni).

{Synopsis: Nightclubs, rock bands, and crowds of people has never been your thing, but it’s something about the Australian electric guitarist that keeps you running back for more. Finally after stepping out of your shell, you find yourself doing anything in your will to be noticed by Jake Sim, aka the lead guitarist of the band Red Lights.

{Warnings: explicit themes, hard dom jake, sub reader, reader has a thing for Jake’s aussie accent, jake has tattoos, rough sex, unprotected sex, creampie, choking, ass spanking, pussy slapping, fingering, oral (m&f receiving), anal play , squirting, ass eating, nipple play, usage of handcuffs, fucking in a motel, lmk if I missed anything.

“Oh come on Y/n, please come. Just tonight please make an exception for your two best friends”. Nina and Bri, shouted at you through the phone, and begged you to go out with them tonight. You honestly didn’t feel like going out at all, you had just finished your finals, and all you wanted to do is eat a bunch of junk food and binge watch criminal minds.

“Guys I don’t know, I don’t think I’m really up for going out tonight, besides finals week has killed me I just rather stay inside tonight” Your best friends groaned over the phone, whining that you always come up with the same excuse every weekend, just for a reason to not leave the house. You would admit, you did feel a little guilty for always turning down your girls, but you vs big crowds of people just made the hairs on your neck stand up.

“But Y/n, this is one night you absolutely cannot miss, the 𝙍𝙚𝙙 𝙇𝙞𝙜𝙝𝙩𝙨 are in town for two days and this is our only chance to see them live!!” Nina squealed in excitement over the phone, you let a confused hum at the mention of the band Red Lights, you had no idea who they were.

“Who are the Red Lights?” You inquired.

“No! Y/n please tell you’re fucking joking right now” Nina gasped dramatically, at your oblivious of not knowing who the Red Lights are. You hear Bri burst into laughter over the phone, yelling at Nina saying “I told you she wouldn’t know who they were haha, drinks on you tonight sucka” Nina let out a fake cry before cursing under her breath

“Guys seriously who are the Red Lights?” You couldn’t help but be a little curious about who these people were, and how are they so popular, since they have your best friends begging on their knees for you to come to their show tonight.

“The Red Lights, are like THE rock band of all time. They sell out so many shows every year and they’re like hot asf you should definitely reconsider your decision Y/n” Bri said, the sound of her lips smacking coming through the line, indicating that she’s applying lip gloss to her lips.

“Here I’ll send you the poster, and the link to the show where you buy your tickets. If you’re still not up for it, then it’s all good, Me and Bri will just go and have the best times of our lives. Nina said, trying her hardest to persuade you, but not make it seem she was trying to persuade you at the same time.

Your phone dinged with the message from Nina, you clicked on it, opening the message. You gasped inaudible, as you took a good look at the poster, and holy shit your friends weren’t lying they are hot. The group consisted of 4 handsome men, Lee Heeseung the lead singer, Park Jongseong bass guitarist, Park Sunghoon drummer, and last but not least Sim Jaeyun electric lead guitarist.

You would admit, all of them were fine as hell, but there was one of the members that stood out to you the most. Sim Jaeyun, the lead guitarist, it was just something about his piercing gaze, and his striking facial features that intrigued you wildly. You could feel his intense aura radiating from the picture, and that’s how you found yourself agreeing to go out with your friends tonight all bc of Sim Jaeyun.

“Actually, you guys are right, i never get out of the house except for school and work so I think it’s time I do have some fun” you cringed at your own words, you couldn’t believe you were agreeing to going to a rock concert, at an underground club somewhere totally out of your comfort zone. You giggled at your friends cheering, and squealing in excitement, that you finally decided to go party with them.

“That’s my girl!! Don’t worry we going to have so much fun, plus you’re gonna love the Red Lights, their concerts are always a night to remember” Bri quoted, you honestly were a little excited, it was definitely something new and risky, and honestly you’ve been wanting to get out there a little bit more anyways but the fear of being judged raided your head like crazy.

“Great! Then it’s settled ladies, Y/n we’ll be there in 15, so don’t take forever and please for fuck sakes wear something that fits the occasion, not any of those Church girl dresses you wear all the time” Nina snorted, you rolled your eyes and sucked your teeth at the girl, it’s not your fault you weren’t too keen on showing off any skin and your curves.

You hung up the phone, and started to get ready. You searched through your closet, looking for something not too casual but something you would be comfortable with. You pondered and pondered, on what you should wear, and then it hit you, Bri had bought you a black mini dress for your birthday last year. You swiped through your hangers until you spotted the black piece, it was a little short but not too short, with a slit on the side and the top of it revealed a little bit of your cleavage.

You bit down on your bottom lip nervously, as you checked yourself out in the mirror. The dress hugged your curves tight, and your boobs sat up nicely. Before you could get any deeper into your thoughts, you heard a loud beeping of a car horn, indicating that Nina and Bri had arrived. You took one last look in the mirror, and took a deep breath, before grabbing your purse and walking out the door.

The wind of the cool night breeze, hit you instantly as you stepped outside, reminding you of the little amount of clothing you have on. You shivered a little, tugging the dress down, before walking over to Nina’s red Honda Accord. Your best friends gasped at the sight of you, it was such a rare occasion to see you dressed like this, and they were living for it.

“Holy fuck Y/n, you look hot as hell!” Bri and Nina screamed a little too loud for your liking, you gave them a playful glare and shushed them, reminding them you have neighbors and the least you want right now is a noise complaint.

“Sorry sorry, you just look so good girl! I knew you were hiding all that ass under those long granny skirts you wear all the time” Bri said, you rolled your eyes playfully at her before getting in the back seat.

“Buckle up ladies! It’s going to be a hell of a ride” Nina smirked, and giggled mischievously, before speeding off into the night. It was indeed going to be a hell of a ride….

꩜ .ᐟ

Finally you guys made it to the club, and the parking lot was full of cars, and the line was outrageous. You understand now why your friends made it very clear to get a vip ticket, for early entry and line cutting because if not you would’ve been standing out here like the rest of these people. The city was bustling, and the lights from the venue lit up the streets.

You could already feel yourself getting nervous and anxious, but you quickly reminded yourself you’re here to have fun, and not overthink and let your social anxiety get the best of you. All you needed, is a little alcohol in your system and you’ll be good to go, because there’s nothing like some good ole liquor courage. The bouncer scanned in you and your friends tickets, handing you guys your vip lanyards, as you guys made your way in skipping the long line.

As you stepped foot inside the club, you are immediately hit with a wave of heat, bodies packed together, the bass of the music blasting travels throughout the whole club, and the smell of alcohol and cigarette smoke invades your nostrils. You made sure to stay very close to your friends, not wanting to take the risk of getting split up, that’s the least of your problems you need right now.

“I’ll be right back, I’m gonna go get us some drinks, you two find a good spot by the stage, as close as possible please” Nina shouted over the loud music, as she made her way over to the bar to grab the drinks. Bri pulled you by the arm, as you guys made your way through the crowd of bodies. You honestly don’t know, how you two managed to get pretty close to the stage, but here you guys were literally two rows away from being barricade.

Not long after Nina came back with the drinks, you immediately took your drink out of her hand, and downed most of it. If you were going to survive tonight, you needed to not be all the way there and just let loose.

Suddenly the whole club went dark, and the crowd erupted into screams. You could feel your heart racing, and your palms growing sweaty, as the lights flickered back but this time they were a dark red color.

The stage started to light up as well, and you could see the members coming up from under the stage. Bri screams in excitement, pulling on your arm hysterically. You giggled at her reaction, and you even let out a little scream yourself.

Finally, the sound of an electric guitar echoed throughout the crowd, and you felt the adrenaline rush coursing through your body. The spotlight came on, and there they were, you stared at them in awe and you wondered if this was all some fever dream.

They looked so unreal, visuals out of this world, and the intense energy they let off was like no other. Your eyes landed on Jaeyun, and boy oh boy did your heart skip a beat, he was far more handsome in person and just how you imagined him to be. On top of that, his confident and dark aura was so intimidating and all too addicting.

“What’s up everyone, We are Red Lights!” The lead singer Heeseung spoke, you couldn’t help but check him out, his facial features and orange hair standing out. But that was quickly interrupted, when the man you’ve been anticipating seeing all night, spoke as well.

“Are you guys ready to go fucking crazy!” He growled, you felt a shiver run down your spine, and a throbbing ache starting to form in your core. A fucking Australian accent?! You thought to yourself, as you craved for him to speak more, you were a sucker for accents and Jake’s happen to be your new favorite.

As the show went on, you found yourself really enjoying their music, but you were enjoying Jaeyun way more. It was the way he played his electric guitar so passionately, and his stage performance was amazing, it was like he was born for this. There were times, you and him would lock eyes in the crowd, and it never failed to get your heart beating fast and your panties getting wetter by the minute.

Sadly the show had came to an end, and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed. You see why Bri said their concerts are a night to remember, and you would definitely remember this night. You genuinely had a great time, the Red Lights really know how to put on a show, and you already made up your mind that you will definitely be coming to tomorrow night’s show.

“Wow that was amazing wasn’t it” Nina shouted, slurring her words just a little, she was always kind of a light weight when it came to drinking, not taking much for her to feel the buzz of the alcohol.

“Sooo… How’d you like show, and what do you think of the Red Lights Y/nnie?” Bri inquired, holding up Nina by her arm, as the drunk girl wobbled and said incoherent words only she could understand.

“Honestly… I really enjoyed it, I mean their music is actually really good. You know, I was expecting it to be like the type of rock music, where all they do is scream” Bri chucked at your words, playfully pushing your shoulder.

“So, does that mean you’re on for tomorrow night’s show?” Bri winked at you. Of course you were going, and hopefully this time you could catch a certain someone’s eye, that certain someone being Mr sexy electric guitarist.

“Actually yeah, I do think I would like to come again” you nodded, Bri clapped her hands in excitement, and Nina jumped up and down, cheering in her drunk state. You couldn’t wait for tomorrow night!!

꩜ .ᐟ

“But Sir, you clearly stated you wanted a white chocolate mocha latte, with a double shot of expresso when you ordered” You said in your most friendliest tone, trying to keep your composure. These were the days, you really hated your job, and wanted nothing more than to throw in the towel but unfortunately you aren’t rich so you have to work for your money.

“No Miss! I clearly said I wanted a white chocolate mocha latte, and a double shot of an expresso on the side. Is this like your first day or something. The older guy raised his voice, and laughed sarcastically at you. You gripped the edges of the counter, taking a deep breath, before putting on a fake smile.

“Well my apologies sir, but you weren’t very specific with your order” You replied, you honestly wanted to scream and pull your hair out, why did you always get the grumpy old people who haven’t had their AM coffee yet.

“Are you calling me a dummy! Wow that’s so unprofessional on your behalf, young lady I demand to speak to your manager right this instant” The older gentleman complained, pointing his finger at you. At this point you were fuming with frustration, as you took a step back, to regain control over your emotions.

Luckily your manager came quickly, and took over the situation, and of course the guy changed his attitude quickly when a male was now present, fucking misogynist you thought to yourself. The doors to the coffee shop swung opened and two tall gentleman walked through them. Both had on mask covering their faces, and dressed in all black attire.

You don’t know why, you suddenly got the feeling that you knew them from somewhere, but you quickly shook that feeling off, greeting them and taking their order.

“Hello! What can I get started for you two” You said politely, while typing in your employee number on the register.

“What do you recommend, it’s my first time coming here” the gentleman with the black fluffy hair spoke up, your hands froze mid typing, and you looked up at him real fast. Why did his voice sound so familiar to you, almost identical to the male’s voice you’ve been daydreaming about at work all day.

“Umm w-well, we’re well known for our cappuccinos and lattes, but we also have really good teas” you stuttered, your heart starting to beat fast out your chest. The two guys looked at each other and you could tell from their eyes, that they were smirking.

“Well how about you, what’s your favorite?” the other guy replied, he was clad in a black hoodie, with red flames on it, but what you also noticed about him was his eyes. They resembled Heeseung’s eyes from Red Lights. You told yourself to snap out of it, and get a grip. There’s absolutely no way THE Lee Heeseung, and THE Sim Jaeyun, were standing right in front of you right now, asking about your go to coffee drink.

But they were….

“Umm well I’m pretty basic, I just usually get a latte or an Iced americano” You nodded, and they both nodded their head in agreement, chuckling softly before the one with the leather jacket pulled out his credit card.

“Alright, we’ll take two Americanos please” the one with the leather jacket said, handing you his card. When you went to grab it, you suddenly stopped, and looked at the rings on his finger. At this point, you knew for sure you weren’t imagining things, the rings he had on his fingers were the exact same ones Jake had on last night at the show

Yes, you were staring that hard….

“Something wrong princess?” He chucked softly, you couldn’t find your words, they were stuck in your throat, as you struggled to speak. That’s when the other gentleman leaned in, and whispered something into his ear. His eyes widened a little, but quickly turned relaxed and was replaced with a more playful expression.

“Ahhh I see, you know who we are don’t you?” He leaned against the counter. Your breath hitched at the semi close proximity, swallowing hard before replying.

“Y-yes, but I won’t make a scene I promise, I really like you guys music a lot” You were a nervous wreck, tripping over your words, and fiddling with your fingers. They both kept giggling and looking at each other.

“Haha thanks, did you come to our show last night?” Heeseung asked, you shook your head yes eagerly, then cringing at yourself for coming off so desperate. Jake finally pulled down his mask some, showing you half of his face. You melted on the spot, butterflies erupting in your stomach.

“May I ask who’s your favorite, and will you be coming to our show tonight pretty” Jake said, smirking and biting his lips. You felt your knees go weak, and suddenly the air became hot, and you struggled to breathe correctly

Did he really just call you pretty?!

“W-well, I uh- well um, I really like you Jaeyun, you’re like so amazing” You slapped your hands over your mouth and widened your eyes, you didn’t mean to sound like a desperate fangirl, but him staring deep into your eyes had your brain malfunctioning.

“Oh really, is that so? Very cute” He smirked, before putting his card back in his wallet. You quickly made their drinks, almost fucking up in the process, because you could feel them staring a hole into you. You finished making their drinks and handed it to them.

“Here you are, please enjoy” You tried your best to sound confident. They both thanked you, but suddenly Jake grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles and you looked at him in shocked, as they grabbed their drinks.

“See you at the show tonight Y/n” Jake spoke one last time, before they walked out the doors of the coffee shop. You stood there, still in shock, as you stared at spot on your hand where Jake kissed. You couldn’t wait to tell Nina and Bri.

꩜ .ᐟ

The night came fast, and you were currently standing in front of Bri’s bathroom mirror, applying your makeup. You’ve decided, you really want to go all out, in hopes of gaining Jake’s attention. You went to the mall when you got off work, and picked out a black corset top, and a black mini skirt to go with it.

“I can’t believe you met them like face to face, WHAT THE ACTUAL FUCK” Nina’s said, her loud obnoxious voice making you laugh. You honestly still couldn’t believe it yourself.

“Yeah seriously Y/n, you don’t know how many girls will kill to be you right now!!” Bri singed, touching up her curls. You honestly did feel a little on top of the world right about now.

“Not only that, Jake fucking kissed your hand, he’s definitely into you girl” Nina wigged her brows, nudging you in the shoulder.

“Oh come on, a guy like him into me? He probably just enjoys seeing girls losing their shit over him” You didn’t wanna gas yourself up, only to get disappointed in the end. Jake was so out of your league, and had plenty of girls in line waiting to have a piece of him. There’s no way he would waste his time on a girl like you.

Little did you know….

Jake’s Pov

Jake knew when he first spotted you in the audience, he had to have you. You were the most beautiful girl he’s ever seen, and not only that he could tell you weren’t used to coming to concerts or let alone clubs, just by the way you looked around like a lost puppy. He could feel, the innocence and curiosity, radiating from your body all the way in the crowd and he never felt so addicted in his life.

He wanted to swallow you whole, drain you of your innocence, and show you a whole new world out there. He couldn’t lie and say, he wasn’t taken aback, when he walked into the coffee shop and you were right there in all your glory looking gorgeous as ever. It took every thing in him, not to sweep you off your feet right then and there, and have his way with you.

But nah, he couldn’t make it that easy, he wanted to play with you first, get you all desperate for him which was never a challenge for him when it came to women. Jake knew he was good looking, and how easy it was to have any girl he wanted, so he used it to his advantage. But what Jake couldn’t quite grasp, is why did it feel different this time? Why does it feel like he’s genuinely into you.

Jake was always excited when it came time to perform, I mean why wouldn’t he? He loves what he does, and music is his passion. But in the back of his head, he’s a little extra giddy knowing that you’re going to be somewhere in the audience watching him, he hopes you keep your word and show up tonight. I mean, how else is gonna make his move on you, and get you in the bed tonight.

Jake was determined to have you screaming out his name tonight, and little did he know you were feeling the same way….

꩜ .ᐟ

When you and your girls pulled up to the venue, you instantly felt Deja vu, just this time you weren’t as nervous like before and you felt lighter, and more confident. You stepped out of the car, the cool night breeze welcoming you, as you guys made your way through the line of people. Just like yesterday night, it was packed like crazy, but vip ticket again hello.

You guys rushed in, not even bothering to get drinks, as the plan was to get barricade tonight and to your surprise the goal was achieved. You and your friends couldn’t help but feel giddy, boasting over being front row.

Not long after, the lights turned off and came back on, to the signature dark red lights. The crowd roars, and the energy is up instantly. The adrenaline rush, courses through your body, a lot more stronger since you’re in front of the stage. The members came up from under the stage, and you immediately start looking for Jaeyun.

You finally spot him, and what are the odds, he just happens to be on your side. Just like before, you stare at him awe, so fascinated by his godly presence. You locked eyes with him, and this time he winked at you and smirked, Nina also saw the interaction turning around and hyping you up.

As the show went on, you noticed that you had Jake’s attention, when you would look at him, he was already staring at you. And even this time, they went out into the crowd, and he made sure he passed by your section to hold your hand. When the show was coming to an end, and they were saying their goodbyes, Jake’s eyes remained on you, and you felt so small and imitated under his gaze.

The show ended, and you and your friends were getting ready to head out, but suddenly a gentleman with a mask and tattoos on his arms stopped you guys. Bri being the brave one in the friend group, she immediately was ready to tell the guy off, until the guy quickly spoke up introducing himself.

“My apologies for startling you ladies, but could you spare some of your time?” The guy asked, you all looked at each skeptically, before shrugging your shoulders.

“Sure what’s this concerning, you wanna buy us a drink or something?” Nina said confidently, never missing the chance to flirt with a hot guy. You and Bri looked at each other, and shook your heads.

“Haha I mean, I wouldn’t mind buying a pretty girl like you a drink at all. But actually I’m the manger of Red Lights, and I actually got word from the boys that they would like to meet you ladies backstage” Your eyes widened at his words, and you turned around and looked at your friends in shocked. You guys couldn’t believe this was happening, you couldn’t believe this was happening.

“Like to meet them backstage?” You inquired, the guy nodded his head and said to follow him. You guys followed him to a back room, where it was labeled staff only and he opened the door and the members were all hanging out in there. You and your friends walked in, the atmosphere feeling heavy and awkward.

“Look who made it! Welcome beautiful ladies, come have a seat” Jongseong said, pointing at the space left on the couches. Nina sat by Sunghoon, Bri sat in between Jay and Heeseung, and then of course you had no other choice but to sit by Jaeyun. He patted the space next to him and you hesitantly took a seat.

“We meet again princess, see you couldn’t stay away” Jake said, looking at you with that look, that makes you wanna serve him like he’s your master. You swallowed down your nerves, before replying.

“Why would i, I mean you really know how to make a good impression Jake” You said confidently, flirtatious in your tone. Jake bit his lip, a habit you noticed he does a lot. He leaned in closer to you, stretching his arm around your shoulder, and whispered in your ear “Call me Jaeyun pretty girl” you almost moaned out loud.

His accent was the sexiest thing you ever heard in your life, voice smooth like honey, and the scent of his cologne invaded your nostrils. You wanted him so bad, never mind, you needed him so bad.

And that’s exactly how you ended up, messily kissing Jake, as the elevator moves up the floors. It dinged on the floor Jake’s room was on, and you both stumbled out the elevator, giggling and kissing each other like crazy.

Jake fumbled with the card, as he tried to put it into the slot, he was so fucking horny he could hardly think straight. You decided to help him out, giggling and inserting the card into the slot, and finally the light turned green and the door was unlocked.

Before you guys could get fully into the room, you were pulling Jake back into a heated kiss, pulling on the collar of shirt and rubbing your hands down his abs.

“Someone’s eager aren’t we?” He smirked, grabbing a handful of your ass, then landing a harsh smack to it. You moaned shamelessly, pussy soaking your panties already. You had been wet since the concert, and you really needed him to do something about it.

“Please, i need you Jaeyun I can’t take it anymore” You begged, grinding your pussy onto the fabric of his jeans. Jake groaned, his cock now throbbing in his jeans, fuck you were so perfect, he loved when a woman is desperate for him.

“Fuck baby, shit take off your clothes, i wanna see that sexy body of yours. But do it nice and slowly for me, i wanna appreciate every inch of you” He bit his lip, taking a seat on the bed.

You didn’t even have to be told twice, you started to slowly strip out of your clothes, swaying your hips slowly as you eased out of your thong and unhooked your bra.

Jake could’ve cummed in his pants at the sinful sight of you, you were truly a masterpiece, a body of a goddess.

“I want you to crawl to me slut, show me how bad you want this” You obeyed his command, dropping down to your knees, as you crawled to him, slowly and seductively. His gaze was intense, lust and desire, written all over his face. Your pussy is dripping wet, and your arousal is leaking down your thighs.

“Gonna show me what that pretty little mouth does huh? Be a good little girl and let Jaeyun fuck your mouth” You looked up at him with your big doe eyes, and nodded eagerly, you didn’t even care how shameless you looked anymore you wanted his cock.

He spread his legs open for you, as you started to unbuckle his belt, and he lifted his bottom up so you could take off his jeans and boxers. His cock sprang free, hard as a rock, and the tip red and leaking with precum. Your mouth watered at the sight of his big cock, it was long and thick, with veins running down the sides of it

“Fuck your cock is so huge, I don’t think it will fit all in my mouth” you moaned, pumping his cock, and smearing the precum off the head of his cock.

“That’s okay sweetheart, just take as much as you can, come on make me feel good” he grunted, hips bucking up desperately. You licked on his wet tip a little, teasing him before taking him into your mouth, sucking slowly. He threw his head back, exposing his perfectly sculpted jawline and neck.

“Fuuuk yeah, just let that, eat my cock baby” you moaned around his length at his vulgar remarks, the vibration of it, causing him to let out a loud moan. The taste of his salty precum on your tongue, was immaculate and you could feel his dick twitching inside your mouth. You bobbed your head up and down, taking more of his cock in your mouth, as his tip reaches the back of your throat causing you to gag a little.

O-oh Shit yeah, deep throat my cock baby fuuuck yes” He groaned, pushing your head a little, as you sucked him off. Your pussy was throbbing, so you reached your hand down between your legs, rubbing your aching clit as you sucked Jake’s huge cock. He noticed, and pushed your head further down, cock going deeper into your throat.

“Who said you could touch yourself without my permission greedy little slut” he spat out, taking this opportunity, to grip your hair and fuck your mouth. You gagged, spit and his precum dripping on the sides of your mouth. You could tell he was getting close to cumming, his dick twitching uncontrollably inside your mouth.

He pulled his dick out, tapping your tongue with his length, before pulling his shirt off showing off his tattoos. Just when you thought he couldn’t get any hotter. He came up and started kissing you again, tasting himself on your mouth and groaning at the taste.

Get on all fours baby, I wanna eat that pretty pussy from the back” He sighed out, lazy stroking his cock. You got up on the bed, arching your back, as you looked back at him wiggling your plump ass. Jake cursed under his breath, before making his way over to you, and rubbing his hands all over your ass.

“Fuck look at this beautiful ass, fuck just wanna take a bite out of it sweetheart” You whimpered, when he started to circle your clit with his thumb.

“Oh fuck please, please give it to me Jaeyun” You cried out, you were so turned on, it hurts. Jake smacked your asscheek, before putting his face in between your cheeks, licking and sucking on your pussy.

You let out a loud moan, his tongue felt incredible, knowing exactly where to lick, you could tell he was really experienced.

“God yes Jake, that feels so good please” You whimpered, back arching at the overwhelming feeling of his tongue, working wonders on your wet pussy. He was genuinely eating you out like a starved man, and you could tell he eats pussy for his own pleasure.

“Fuck this pussy is so good, sweet little cunt so tasty” He said muffled, as he started to lick your puckered hole. He could tell you never had your ass eaten, by the way you flinched at the contact. He couldn’t believe, nobody has ever tasted your sweet little ass before, but he’s honored to be the first one to get a taste.

“Does my naughty little bitch, like getting her ass and pussy eaten from the back” He smirked, licking a big stripe of your pussy, sucking on your sensitive bundle of nerves. You clenched around nothing, pussy fluttering, as he started to tongue fuck your hole.

“Fuck fuck fuck, right there Jake, please don’t stop I’m gonna cum” You whined, legs shaking and the band in your stomach, threatening to snap any minute. He landed a slap to your pussy, causing you to let it a pained moan, jolting forward.

“Call me Jaeyun baby, now be a good little whore and cum on my tongue” He spat, slipping a finger inside your tight pussy, fingering your gummy walls as he devoured your pussy. You screamed his name out loud, as your body felt like it was on fire, and the knock in your stomach unraveled.

“Jaeyun! Oh my god I’m cumming” You whined, coming undone in his mouth, squirting your essence everywhere. Jake continued to lap at your pussy, overstimulating you, before you pushed at his head because you couldn’t take anymore.

“God, I need to be inside you right fucking now” He growled, ridding himself of the rest of his clothes, you looked back at him, staring at his abs, and how his muscles flexed when he bent down.

“Face down baby” He said, before running off to grab something. He came back with handcuffs, twirling the black puffy object around his finger. Your pussy clenched around nothing, and you could feel yourself getting wetter, at the thought of your hands being restrained, as he fucked the living daylights out of you.

He pulled your body to the edge of the bed, spreading your asscheeks , as he rubbed the tip of his cock between your slippery folds teasing your throbbing cunt. You felt like you were going to die, if you didn’t have his cock buried deep inside you, pushing your ass against his pelvis.

He chuckled at your eagerness, before aligning his tip up with your hole, his cock slipping inside your tight pussy easily from how wet you are. He was big! You could feel him splitting you in half, his hard cock pulsating, as he started to rock his hips and forth.

“Oh Shit, yeah tight little pussy, squeezing me so good, he groaned, his pace speeding up, as he finds the perfect rhythm to fuck you deep. Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, he was able to find your g-spot immediately, gripping your waist tightly as he pounded you into the mattress.

“Jaeyun! Oh Jae, fuck me just like that. I love your cock so much baby fuck!” You cried out, throwing your ass back at him, as you desperately chased after his strokes. The sound of skin slapping, and the headboard slamming against the wall, echoed throughout the motel room, turning to on to the max.

“How does it feel, to be getting fucked stupid by a rockstar darling, feeling me deep in your guts” He pulled your body up from the bed, pulling your body flushed to his, as he pounded into you like mad man pinching and rubbing your nipples through his fingertips.

“F-feels so good, love being your little fucktoy so much” You whimpered, biting down on my lip harshly, as you took his brutal thrusts. He arched your back again, pushing your face into the mattress, as he let a glob of spit fall between your asscheeks. He smeared the saliva around your rim, then starting to slowly push his thumb inside your tight asshole.

“OH MY GOD JAE, I’m gonna cum, please let me cum on your cock I been so good for you” You slurred your words, your body trembling, and you could feel the band in your stomach tightening as you neared your high. You could tell Jake was close as well, his deep grunts, turning into whiny moans and whimpers.

“Fuck can I cum inside you baby, stuff you full of my cum, just to fuck back into your tight cunt” He growled, plowing into you, as his strokes started to grow erratic, fucking you into a oblivion. That sent you over the edge, the band in your stomach finally snapping, as you came hard for the 2nd time tonight.

Your orgasm triggered his, the tight clenching of your cunt, milking his cock for what’s its worth, as he shoots thick white ropes of cum inside you. His hips stuttered, completely emptying his balls inside you, and he collapsed on top of you, chest heaving up and down.

You laid there spent, body limp and weak, your hair is a mess and you looked so fucked out. So did he, sweat dripping down his forehead, as he tried to calm his breathing. The room was completely silent now, only the sound of you and Jake’s breathes could be heard.

This was the moment you dreaded the most, the awkward silence was so loud, and you didn’t know if you should get your shit and go. Or wake up to an empty bed, with no sigh of Jake.

“That was the best sex, I ever had in my life” You spoke up, breaking the silence, and trying to lighten up the mood. Jake hummed, staring up at the ceiling. You stared at him, admiring his side profile, he was so bad for you heart. Finally Jake got up from the bed, grabbing his jeans, and throwing them on.

You sit up in the bed, covering yourself with the covers, as if he wasn’t just balls deep inside you. You knew this was gonna happen, but some parts of you hoped would be different, but who were you kidding Jake’s a rockstar he has no time for dating.

“Are you leaving?” You asked him, even though you knew the answer to that, but still you were hoping he could prove your assumption wrong.

“Yeah I should head out, the band’s probably wondering where I am” He said nonchalantly, pulling his shirt over his head.

“Oh” Is all you said, a lump growing in your throat, as reality hit you hard that you were nothing but just another hookup for him.

“You should probably leave as well love, it’s not safe for a women to stay at these places by herself. He smiled at you, that damn smile you thought to yourself. Tears started to gather in your waterline, but you quickly wiped them away, and got up from the bed and threw on your clothes.

꩜ .ᐟ

You stood there awkwardly, fiddling with your fingers, as Jake checked out the motel, and tuned in the card. He turned, and looked at you, before giving you a faint smile and nodded his head towards the exit. You both walked out, side to side, the cold air hitting your legs.

Jake put his jacket over your shoulder, and kissed you on your forehead, and not long after a taxi cab was pulling up. Jake opened the door of cab for you, and you gave him a faint smile, before getting into the backseat of the cab.

“I had amazing time tonight princess, here’s my number, if I’m ever in town again we should meet up sometimes” he nodded, you couldn’t help but feel a little sad, you didn’t want this night to end, you just wished it could be different.

“Yeah I’d like that, be careful on the road Jake” Your voice cracked a little, trying to ignore the ache in your chest. He smiled at you one last time, before walking away and disappearing into the night. You finally let the tears fall, sobbing into your hands, you really fooled yourself this time

You don’t know if you will ever see Jake again, but until then, you can only cherish the memories of tonight….

A year later.

Your phone dinged with a notification, waking you out of your slumber. You rubbed the sleep out of your eyes, before clicking on the notification. Your heart stopped, when you opened the message, from someone you didn’t expect to hear from ever again.

Jaeyun: Hey love, I’m in town wanna meet up?🥴

The End.

A/n: The way I enjoyed writing for Rockstar Jake, I literally sobbed writing the end tho😭 but I really hope you guys like this fic, reblogs are greatly appreciated🫶🏽🩷 lmk if you guys want more fics like this in the future! Not proofread 🥲

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Taglist: @i03jae @ataver @ancnymcnzjy @slutforjaeyun @heebear @heeaxvhhoon @jaklvbub @jakeswifez @strxwbloody @meetletsinmontauk @eroqore if I didn’t tag you, it’s because it wasn’t working😭



[ekybrini]

slipping through my fingers| JACK HUGHES

— ⟡ summary | in which y/n and Jake childhood best friends who've always had something there for each other. But once jack gets drafted everything changed for both of them.

— ⟡ warnings | none (that I know of)

— ⟡ word count | 17.8k (GUYS IM SORRY)

— ⟡ gabs note | hiii!!! im so excited to finally start writing again! I apologizer if this seems rushed. also this is EXTREMELY INACCURATE!!! please don't think this is literal, I don't know how some of these things work. also i apologize if this is cringe bc I CANNOT write romance for the life of me. I'm currently on spring break so I'll be trying to take advantage of being able to write a few things! if anyone wants to request or suggest anything don't hesitate to go into my inbox . i'll try to get to it and write it as soon as I can :) after spring break I may be a little inactive as i'm trying to lock in, in some of my classes before the semesters is over (ap econ and living earth are actually kicking my ass)

⟡ slipping through your fingers | jack hughes (jacks pov)

Part two

You've known Jack since you were kids. Backyard games of street hockey, summer nights spent on the lake, and watching him skate around with his brothers. you were always there. best friends through and through. 

The first time you met Jack, you were about 10 years old. You had just moved into the neighborhood and the first thing you noticed was the street hockey that was happening right outside of your house. The kids from the neighborhood were scattered in every direction, sticks raised, yelling at each other. The one who caught your attention right away was the kid with the wild hair, darting around the group with such speed that it was almost impossible to keep up. He made it look effortless. He, of course, was jack. 

You were lonely at first, standing awkwardly by the curb or watching the game through your bedroom window . Jack, always the curious one, had spotted you one day as you were sitting on the curb and skated over with a big grin.

"You gonna watch all day, or do you wanna join us?" he’d asked, not missing a beat, despite being out of breath. his eyes were full of that contagious energy.

You'd hesitated, feeling unsure. “I don’t know. I’m not really good at this... I’ve never really played before.”

"Come on! I’ll teach you," Jack insisted. "It’s easy, you just gotta push the puck this way, and then..." He demonstrated, sending the puck flying past you. "See? Just like that!"

It wasn’t perfect, but you tried. And Jack, always encouraging, cheered you on even as you missed the puck completely a few times. "Don’t worry. You’ll get it. It’s all about having fun."

From that moment on, you and Jack were inseparable. Summer after summer, it was the same routine. Jack, with his scruffy hair and infectious smile, would be the one to drag you out onto the street, even if you were just coming off a bad day at school or feeling a little down.

One of your favorite memories came when you were both about 12 years old. It was a hot, sticky summer afternoon. Jack, as usual, had the game already set up, calling the shots while the other neighborhood kids were pretending to be superstars in a game that felt far more like a chaotic free for all than a real match.

"You in or what?" Jack shouted, holding out a stick. “This game’s going nowhere without you.”

You rolled your eyes, already seeing the sweat dripping from his forehead, his shirt clinging to his back. "You know, I was just thinking about going inside and having a popsicle."

"Are you really gonna let me down like this?" Jack raised an eyebrow, grinning from ear to ear. “you promised you'd play after school." 

"Fine," you said with a laugh, grabbing the stick. "But this time, I’m definitely winning."

You didn't win, at least not that day, but you had so much fun trying. Jack was so fast, his little tricks and turns keeping you on your toes, but every time he made a move, you were there to give it your best shot. You kept pushing him, running after the puck until the sun dipped below the horizon, and both of you were covered in dirt and sweat, laughing until your stomachs hurt.

That night, you sat side by side on the dock by the lake, feet dangling in the cool water as you two ate ice cream bars. The night was quiet except for the distant croak of frogs. 

“You were so close to getting me,” Jack said between breaths, a playful edge to his voice. He tilted his head back to look at the sky. “You’ll get me next time. Just wait.”

You chuckled, watching him with a teasing smile. "Yeah, sure, Jack. Maybe when I’m 18 and you’ve forgotten how to skate."

Jack laughed loudly, nudging you with his elbow. “Not a chance. I’ll always be better. But hey, I can teach you some moves if you want.”

“Oh, I bet you would,” you said, rolling your eyes. “Teach me how to win, too?”

"Obviously," he said with a grin, though there was a genuine warmth in his eyes. “I’ll make you into a skating legend if that's what you want.”

You didn't know it then, but those summers spent with Jack would become some of the best memories of your life. Even when the seasons changed and the street hockey games moved indoors. Jack’s determination never left. You spent every Saturday watching him at the rink, your nose pressed against the cold glass as he glided across the ice, his stick flashing, eyes full of focus. He was good. Too good, in fact. And with every game, the crowd cheered louder with his dreams growing bigger.

⟡

By the time you and Jack hit your early teens, things start to feel different. It’s not obvious at first just a lingering glance here, a nervous laugh there. Jack’s still Jack competitive, loud, always pulling you into whatever chaos he’s creating. But sometimes, when his hand brushes against yours, or when he looks at you a second too long after you’ve made a joke, it feels like something is shifting beneath the surface. You notice it, even if you don’t understand it yet.

The way he seems to notice you more, how he’s always trying to catch your eye in a group conversation, how his voice drops just a little when he says your name. It’s subtle, and you try to ignore it. He’s your best friend, right? Nothing has changed between you two. You’re still the same, pulling pranks on each other, laughing at dumb things, challenging each other to stupid games on long summer afternoons.

But the moments keep building like when he reaches across the table to grab something and his fingers graze the back of your hand, leaving a warmth that lingers far longer than it should. Or when you catch him staring at you when you’re talking, and his expression shifts just a fraction of something unreadable there for a brief second before he masks it with a grin.

And then there are those times when the air feels too quiet. Like when you’re lying next to each other on the grass, watching the stars, and the silence stretches between you two in a way it never has before. It’s not comfortable anymore, this space. It’s heavy.

You’re 14 when you notice it for real. You’re both sitting on the dock, summer sun dipping low behind the trees, casting everything in a golden haze. Jack’s freshly showered from practice, hair still damp, the scent of soap and fresh air clinging to him. You’re half listening to him ramble on about a play he’s been trying to perfect, his words weaving in and out of the soft, distant hum of the lake’s waves against the dock.

But something in the air is different. It feels thicker. The kind of tension you get when you can’t tell whether the storm is coming, or if it’s already here and you’re just waiting for it to break. You can feel the weight of the evening sun on your skin, but your heart feels heavy, like it’s pounding against your ribs, a rhythm you’re trying to ignore.

“You’re not even listening,” he accuses, nudging you with his knee, and you startle, realizing you haven’t heard a word he’s said for the last few minutes.

“I’m listening,” you argue, even though you weren’t.

Jack raises an eyebrow, the smallest hint of a smile tugging at his lips. “No, you’re not. You’ve been all quiet. What's up with you?”

You scoff, trying to brush it off. “Me? You’re the one who’s weird,” you tease, attempting to lighten the mood, but your words feel hollow, even to you.

He doesn’t laugh. Instead, he studies you, his expression more serious than usual. His gaze shifts from your face to your hands, and then back to your eyes like he’s trying to figure something out that you aren’t even aware of.

“Yeah, maybe.” He shrugs, leaning back on his elbows, staring out across the lake with a far-off look in his eyes. “Or maybe it’s just us.”

The words hang in the air heavy with meaning you don’t fully understand. You freeze trying to process what he’s said. It isn’t just the words, it's the way he said them. The tone in his voice is softer than usual almost uncertain. There’s something fragile in his eyes, like he’s letting a piece of himself slip past you hoping you’ll catch it, but not quite trusting you to. You don’t know how to respond.

You try to shake off the discomfort. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Jack glances at you, his lips quivering at the edges, but there’s a heaviness in his gaze now. “I don’t know,” he mutters. “Just growing up.” He pauses, his voice quieter now almost too soft for the space between you two. He looks at you then, really looks at you his eyes searching for something in yours like he’s asking a question that doesn’t have an easy answer. Something you’re not ready to answer not sure you even can.

You want to say something to reach out and close that space but you can’t find the words. Everything that’s been building between you two feels like it’s teetering on the edge of something unspoken. And the closer Jack gets to this new world he’s creating for himself this future that’s already starting to pull him away from you the more it feels like you’re both standing on the precipice of it.

You don’t have an answer, so you reach over and grab his hand. It’s instinctual, a reflex more than anything else. His fingers slide easily between yours, like they’ve always belonged there. It’s familiar, comforting even. But there’s something different in the way he holds your hand this time. He doesn’t let go immediately like he always does. He holds on for just a moment longer, and in that brief pause, the weight of it hits you.

His gaze drops to your joined hands, and you see a flicker in his eyes something unreadable, maybe even a little vulnerable before he looks back up at you. The quiet between you two stretches longer than it should, and you’re not sure if it’s because of the summer air, or because of the uncertainty that’s silently wrapping itself around both of you.

“I think we’ll figure it out,” you say softly, trying to anchor this moment, even though the ground beneath you feels like it’s shifting.

Jack’s smile is small, unsure. It’s not his usual confident grin, but it’s there. Barely, but it’s there. He doesn’t let go of your hand. Not yet. 

You don’t know what “figuring it out” means, or if you even can figure it out. All you know is that in this moment, with the sun setting behind the trees and the sound of water lapping against the dock beneath you, everything feels poised on the edge of something you don’t understand.

But you’re scared that the moment you try to reach for it, Jack might pull away.

⟡

It’s late, the fire has burned down to a few glowing embers, and the crickets are the only sound beside the occasional splash of water against the dock. You’re sitting with Jack, your legs hanging over the side, toes brushing the cool surface of the lake. The night is quiet, almost too quiet, and for the first time in a long time, there’s a distance between you that wasn’t there before.

Jack’s usually carefree, his humor quick, his energy contagious. But tonight, he’s different. He’s quieter, eyes lost somewhere beyond the horizon. You’ve known him long enough to know when something’s off.

"Jack, you okay?" you ask, not pushing, just asking.

"Do you ever feel like things are changing?" His voice is low, almost hesitant, and you turn to look at him, your heart skipping a beat.

You nod slowly, sensing that this conversation is heading somewhere you’ve both been avoiding for too long. "Yeah, I’ve been feeling it." You pause, meeting his eyes, and for the first time, you really see him. His face, the way his eyes linger on you, the way his lips part like he’s about to say something more. It’s all so familiar, and yet, everything feels new. "It’s been hard to ignore."

Jack exhales sharply, as if he’s been holding his breath. He leans back, letting his head rest against the wood of the dock, looking up at the stars above. "I’ve been trying to figure it out. For a while now. What’s going on between us."

You swallow, the weight of his words settling in your chest. Your voice is barely a whisper when you respond. "What do you mean?"

Jack doesn’t look at you right away, but you see his jaw tense, like he’s trying to gather his thoughts. Finally, he glances over at you, his gaze intense. "I think I’ve been avoiding it. The way things have felt. I’ve always known you meant a lot to me. But it’s more than that now. And I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel it."

Your heart races. This isn’t just a fleeting moment, this is him, telling you exactly what you’ve been feeling. Your stomach flips as the words finally hit you.

"I’ve been feeling it too," you admit, your voice steady but your pulse thundering in your ears. "It’s different now, Jack. And I can’t pretend it’s not."

There’s a long silence between you two as the words settle in the space around you. You both know it’s out there now the truth that neither of you could avoid forever. The air feels thick, charged with everything you’ve been holding back.

Jack’s gaze softens as he turns fully toward you. He reaches out, his hand brushing against yours. "I’ve tried not to think about it, but it’s impossible," he admits, his thumb tracing along the back of your hand. "I don’t know when it happened, but somewhere along the way, I stopped thinking of you as just my best friend. And now I don’t know how to go back."

You feel your breath catch in your throat. This is it. The thing you’ve both been dancing around for so long, the thing neither of you knew how to say. But now, here it is, raw and real.

"I don’t want to go back," you say, your voice soft but certain. "I’ve felt the same way, Jack. For a while now."

"You know, I keep thinking back to when we were kids," he says quietly, almost as if he’s talking to himself. "Back when things were simpler. We used to hang out, play hockey, talk about everything and nothing. I always thought that was enough."

You smile, remembering those simpler times. "It was enough. It still is."

Jack laughs under his breath, but there’s something different in it. "Yeah. But now... I don’t know. I can’t stop thinking about how things feel between us lately. And I don’t know how to handle it."

Your heart picks up a little pace, and you look at him, feeling a shift in the air between you two. It’s subtle, but it's there. His eyes are locked on you now, and the usual teasing glint is gone.

"I think I’ve known for a while," you admit, voice barely above a whisper. "That things have changed. That maybe… we’ve changed."

Jack’s gaze softens, and for a second, everything feels like it’s falling into place, like the puzzle pieces are finally lining up. "I’ve been thinking about it too," he says, his voice low. "And I don’t know if I’m ready for this to be weird between us. I don’t want it to be weird."

Your stomach flips at the vulnerability in his voice. "I don’t think it has to be. It doesn’t have to be weird, Jack."

He looks at you for a long moment, and you can tell he’s weighing his next words carefully. He reaches over, brushing a strand of hair from your face, and that simple touch feels like the universe’s nudge, reminding you that things have always been easy with him. There’s no pretending with Jack. There’s never been any pretending.

"I guess we’ve always been able to figure things out," Jack says, his voice steady now. "And maybe this is just… one of those times."

You nod, your chest tight as you try to put into words what you’ve been feeling for so long. But nothing really needs to be said. This moment, this quiet understanding between you two, is enough.

Jack leans in just a little, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him, but not enough to cross the final line. His gaze flickers between your eyes, lingering on your lips before returning to your eyes again, as if he’s waiting for something. The space between you both seems impossibly small, charged with everything that’s unsaid.

You can’t deny it anymore the way your heart races in your chest, the way your breath feels shallow, as if you’ve been holding it in all this time. This moment, this change between you, feels like it could either break everything or put it all back together.

His hand hovers just inches from yours, like he’s unsure whether to close the distance, like he’s waiting for you to decide. The air is thick with the weight of it. You’ve both danced around this for so long, carefully, quietly, but now it feels like everything is teetering on the edge. One move, one step, and it’ll change everything.

“You’re not nervous, are you?” Jack’s voice is almost a whisper, his usual teasing gone. There’s something softer in the way he says it, like he’s genuinely asking, genuinely uncertain for the first time.

You laugh quietly, but it doesn’t feel like the teasing kind of laugh you’re used to. It’s shaky, full of nerves. “No... Just a little confused, I guess. Not sure if this is all too much.”

Jack shifts closer, and his hand brushes against yours, the lightest touch that sends a jolt through you. It’s a simple gesture, but it speaks volumes. He doesn’t look away now, and neither do you. His breath is slow, steady, and in the stillness, you hear his heart beating in time with yours.

“I’m not sure either,” he admits, his voice low. “But I think I’ve known for a while… I don’t think we can keep pretending things are the same. I can’t. And I’m not sure what will happen next, but I know I don’t want to screw it up.”

You swallow, your own uncertainty mirrored in his eyes. Everything that’s been left unsaid finally hangs in the air between you two, heavy and undeniable. The fear of what could change, of what could be lost, and the quiet hope that maybe just maybe it could work.

"Jack…” You start to say something, anything, but the words stick in your throat. You want to say that you’ve been feeling it too, that you’re terrified of losing this, of messing it all up. But the weight of it all is too much. So instead, you just shake your head, a small smile tugging at your lips despite the uncertainty in your chest. “I don’t know what happens next either.”

You hold his gaze for a beat longer, everything inside you pulling toward him, wanting to close the space between you both. And with that final breath, that quiet understanding, you realize it doesn’t have to be perfect. It doesn’t have to be figured out right now.

You lean in the rest of the way, tilting your head slightly, and then Jack’s lips meet yours.

It’s nothing like you expected. It’s soft, hesitant at first, like you both are testing the waters. But it’s real. And for the first time in a long time, you feel like you’re finally on the same page. It’s not about the future or the fear of change it’s just about right now, and the way everything feels when it’s just the two of you.

When you pull away, there’s a breathless pause, but it’s not awkward. It’s not forced. It’s just you, and him, and everything that’s been building between you finally making sense.

Jack’s forehead rests gently against yours. His eyes are still closed, and there’s a quiet smile playing on his lips. “I think I could get used to this,” he says, voice low, almost like he’s speaking to himself.

You let out a soft laugh, the tension between you both easing, and for the first time, it feels like you don’t need to say anything more. You both know. It’s not perfect, it’s not figured out yet but it’s real, and maybe that’s enough for now.

⟡

It’s almost midnight when your phone buzzes on your nightstand. You’re half asleep, barely registering the sound until it buzzes again. You squint at the screen, the glow too harsh in the dark room. It’s a text from Jack. “are you up?” 

You rub your eyes and sit up the sleepiness fading as you type back. “yeah, what’s up? Are you okay?its midnight.” The dots appear and disappear. Then nothing. You frown, already knowing where this is going. “ want me to come over?” This time, the dots stay. “You don’t have too, just want to talk to you.”

You slip out of bed, grabbing a sweatshirt and slipping on your shoes without even thinking about it. Your house is quiet as you head out the back door and cut across the yard. Jack’s house is familiar, the kind of place you could walk to blindfolded. The back door is unlocked like it always is.

You find him on the couch, the TV on low, playing some old hockey highlights. His head is tipped back against the cushion but his eyes are open dark circles shadowing his face. He looks up when he hears you, his expression softening in a way that makes your heart ache a little.

“You didn’t have to come,” Jack says, sitting up.

“You knew I would,” you reply, kicking off your shoes and sitting down beside him. Your knee bumps against his. He’s in sweats and an old usa hockey hoodie, and his hair’s still damp from a shower. He looks tired.

Jack doesn’t say anything for a long time. His eyes stay on the screen, but you can tell he’s not really watching. The hum of the commentary blends into the background. You wait, not pushing you’ve always known how to give him space when he needs it.

“I can’t sleep,” he says finally, voice low. His knee bounces restlessly. “I keep thinking about the combine.”

You lean back against the couch, watching the screen as a highlight reel of some playoff game flickers by. “What about it?”

Jack sighs. “Everything. The tests. The interviews. The scouts. If I screw up, it’s going to be everywhere.” His hand runs through his hair, leaving it messy. “I mean, I’ve trained for this my whole life, right? But now that it’s actually here I don’t know.”

“You’re not going to screw up,” you say softly.

Jack lets out a hollow laugh. “Yeah? What if I do?”

You nudge his leg with your foot. “You won’t. But even if you did it wouldn’t change anything. Not with me.”

Jack’s eyes flick toward you, guarded but searching. He’s quiet for a beat. Then, so quietly you almost don’t catch it, “It’d change everything else.”

You shift toward him, turning so your knee presses more firmly against his. “Jack, you’ve worked your ass off for this. One bad day at the combine isn’t going to erase years of training and games and scouts already knowing you’re good enough.”

Jack’s jaw tightens, his eyes falling to his hands. His thumb rubs absently along the inside of his palm. “Yeah, but what if I’m not enough?”

You don’t hesitate. You reach over, lacing your fingers through his. His hand is warm, his skin rough from years of hockey sticks and gloves. He tenses for half a second, then relaxes into the touch.

“You’re enough,” you say, quiet but steady. “You’ve always been enough, Jack. Even if you didn’t have hockey.”

Jack’s eyes lift to meet yours, wide and a little raw. His thumb grazes the side of your hand, slow and deliberate.

“You really believe that?”

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t.”

Jack’s mouth curves into the smallest smile. It doesn’t quite reach his eyes, but it’s something. His gaze drops back to the screen, though his hand stays in yours, his thumb running over your knuckles.

For a while, neither of you speak. The silence isn’t uncomfortable it’s the kind of quiet that feels like home. Jack’s breathing evens out, his knee resting against yours. The highlights on the screen blur together.

“Stay?” Jack asks after a long moment. His voice is quiet, almost hesitant.

You squeeze his hand. “Yeah.”

Jack shifts, leaning back against the couch. You lean into him, letting your head rest against his shoulder. His hand stays tangled with yours, his thumb brushing back and forth along your knuckles in a steady rhythm. Slowly, the tension in his body eases.

“Thanks,” Jack murmurs. His head tips toward yours, his breath warm against your hair.

“You don’t have to thank me,” you say, eyes drifting shut. “Just remember this. When it gets hard, when the pressure’s too much, remember you don’t have to do it alone.”

Jack’s hand tightens around yours, his breath catching for half a second. Then he relaxes.

“I’ll remember,” he promises, voice low and sure.

You smile, your heart steady now as you let the sound of his breathing and the flicker of the TV lull you toward sleep. You know there’s still a long road ahead, the combine, the draft, Jack’s rookie year  but for now, this is enough.

It’s late afternoon when you find Jack on the ice, alone.

The rink is almost empty and quite the kind of quiet that makes the sound of skates cutting into the ice seem louder. Jack’s in a plain grey hoodie, a puck sliding back and forth between his stick blade as he moves through the neutral zone. His head is down, shoulders tense, and even from the stands, you can tell he’s overthinking it. His movements are sharp, almost mechanical like he’s trying too hard to be perfect.

You sit down on the bleachers, the cold from the rink seeping through your jeans. Jack’s been like this all week quiet, short answers, disappearing for extra hours at the rink. You didn’t have to ask why. The NHL Combine is in two weeks. The pressure’s been building, and Jack’s not the type to admit when it’s too much.

A sharp slap of the puck against the glass pulls you from your thoughts. Jack’s skating toward the blue line, his stick dragging behind him as he breathes heavily, a little unsteady. He circles back toward center ice, but his stride falters slightly just enough for you to notice.

“You’re overthinking it,” you call out, standing.

Jack glances up, his expression closed off but his eyes soften when he sees you. He coasts toward the boards, resting his forearms against the top. His breath comes out in sharp clouds of condensation.

“You’re not supposed to be here,” he says but there’s no bite to his words.

You shrug. “Figured you’d need moral support.”

Jack huffs a soft laugh but it doesn’t reach his eyes. His gaze drops to the ice. “Not really playing like someone who deserves it.”

You step closer, your hands resting on the edge of the boards. “Jack, you’re allowed to have a bad practice.”

Jack shakes his head. “Not now. Not this close.” His hands flex around his stick. “I can’t screw this up.”

“You won’t.”

Jack’s eyes flick toward you. There’s something guarded in his expression the same look he gets when he’s trying not to show how much it’s getting to him. His eyes are dark under the shadows of his helmet.

“You don’t know that,” he says quietly.

You swallow, searching for the right words. “Yeah, I do.”

Jack exhales sharply, his gaze drifting to the ice. He’s quiet for a long time before he speaks again, his voice low. “What if I’m not good enough?”

Your chest tightens at the vulnerability in his voice. He’s always been confident, cocky, even but this is different. This is the fear he doesn’t let other people see.

You rest your hand over his where it grips the top of the boards. His fingers twitch beneath yours, but he doesn’t pull away. “Jack” Your voice softens. “You’ve been working for this since you were a kid. One bad practice isn’t going to change the fact that you belong there.”

Jack’s mouth pulls into a thin line. His eyes stay locked on the ice.

“You know that, right?” you press.

Jack’s jaw tenses. He exhales through his nose and finally meets your eyes. “Yeah. I know.” But his voice is tight, like he’s still trying to convince himself.

You squeeze his hand lightly. “Come on. Take the helmet off. Let’s reset.”

Jack hesitates for a second before unbuckling his chin strap. His hair falls into messy waves as he pulls the helmet off, and you smile despite yourself.

“There’s the Jack I know,” you say softly.

Jack’s mouth tugs at the corner, the smallest hint of a smile breaking through the tension in his face. He sets the helmet down on the boards and rests his forehead against the glass, his eyes closed for a long moment. His breath fogs up the glass in front of him.

“Why are you so calm about this?” Jack murmurs.

You smile, even though he can’t see it. “Because I know you. And I know you’re going to be fine.”

Jack’s eyes open. He tilts his head toward you, his cheek pressed against the glass. His gaze lingers on you longer than it probably should. His expression softens, his mouth curving into something more familiar less guarded.

“You always know what to say,” Jack says quietly.

You shrug. “It’s part of the job description.”

Jack’s mouth tugs at the corner. He leans back from the glass, turning toward you. “And what job is that?”

“girlfriend” you say lightly, even though the words feel heavier than they should.

Jack’s gaze drops to your mouth for half a second before he catches himself. shaking his head slightly. “You’ve been overpaid.”

You laugh. “I don’t know. Pretty sure I’ve earned it.”

Jack’s hand slides from the boards, brushing against yours as he steps back onto the ice. The contact is brief a split second  but it’s enough to make your breath hitch.

He skates backward, his eyes never leaving yours. “Stay?”

You smile. “Always.”

Jack nods, his jaw unclenching slightly. His shoulders relax as he turns and skates toward the far side of the ice. He moves differently now, smoother, looser. It’s not perfect, but it’s him.

⟡

Jack’s in Buffalo for the Combine. He’d been gone for almost a week now, thrown into a blur of interviews, medical tests, and physical evaluations. You’d been following the coverage clips of him flashing across social media, a quick shot of him stepping into the arena or walking down a hallway with other top prospects. He looked calm on the surface, but you knew better.  The absence of him is starting to feel like a hollow ache beneath your ribs. You’ve talked to him every day, quick texts in the morning, rushed calls at night  but it’s not the same as having him there next to you. He’s exhausted you can tell even through the phone but he’s not the type to admit when it’s too much.

You’re half asleep when your phone buzzes on the nightstand. It takes you a second to realize what’s happening, the glow from the screen sharp against the dark. You blink, rubbing your eyes as you reach for it for the sixth time this week knowing it was a text from Jack “are you awake?”

You sit up, sleep slipping away as you type back. “yeah. What's wrong? it’s late.” The typing bubbles appear, then disappear. Then nothing. You frown, already feeling the tightness in your chest. “want me to call?” A pause. “I just need to hear your voice.” Jack replied. 

You hit the call button without even looking at his message. Jack answers on the second ring. “Hey,” you say softly. “Hey,” Jack’s voice is rough, low. He sounds tired.

“Did you just finish?”

“Yeah.” He exhales sharply. “Got back to my room like five minutes ago.”

“What happened?”

Jack lets out a humorless laugh. “Where do I start?” His voice is tight, and you picture the way he probably looks right now sprawled out on the hotel bed, arm draped over his eyes. “The bike test was brutal. My legs were shaking so bad I thought I was going to fall off.”

You wince. “That bad?”

“They crank up the resistance until you physically can’t pedal anymore,” Jack says. “I could barely stand afterward.” Your chest tightens. “Jack” he cuts you off. “And the VO2 max test?” Jack groans. “I thought I was gonna puke. I was seeing spots by the end.” You frown. “Did anyone else struggle that much?”

“Yeah, but I’m supposed to be better than that.” His voice sharpens. “I can’t afford to screw this up.”

“You didn’t,” you say quickly. “You weren’t there,” Jack says, his tone edged with something close to frustration. But then his breath catches, and his voice softens. “Sorry. I didn’t mean”

“It’s okay,” you interrupt gently. “What else happened?” Jack sighs. “Wingate test. They make you sprint all out on the bike for 30 seconds. My legs were already toast, so I tanked it.”

“Jack” you say once again, getting cut off “And the long jump?” He laughs under his breath, but there’s no humor in it. “I swear I’ve never jumped that short in my life.”

“Did Quinn do better?” you ask carefully. “Of course he did,” Jack mutters. “The scouts loved him.” Your heart aches at the sharpness in his tone. You know how much Jack admires Quinn, but that admiration is tangled up with the constant pressure to keep up.

“And then,” Jack’s voice lowers, frustration leaking through, “they threw me into interviews while I could barely breathe. One scout asked if I thought I deserved to go first overall.” Your mouth tightens. “Seriously?”

“Yeah. Another one asked if I think I’m better than Quinn.” You sit up straighter. “What the hell?” Jack mutters “I didn’t even know what to say,” His voice is low and tight. “I think I screwed it up.”

“You didn’t,” you say firmly. Jack doesn’t respond right away. You hear the rustling of sheets, the muffled sound of the TV in the background probably an old hockey game. “I don’t know,” Jack murmurs. “I need to be better.”

“Jack.” Your voice softens. “You’ve done enough. You’ve been working for this since you were a kid. You’re too hard on yourself” Jack’s quiet for a moment. Then, so soft you almost miss it “What if it’s not enough?” Your chest tightens. This is the fear he doesn’t let other people see.

“Hey,” you say softly. “Close your eyes.” Jack’s quiet for a second. “What?” 

“Just trust me.” 

A long breath. “Okay.”

“You’re on the ice,” you say. “Just you. The rink’s empty.” Jack’s breath steadies. “You’ve got the puck,” you continue. “Skating down center ice. No pressure, no scouts, no cameras. Just you.”Jack hums quietly, like he can almost see it.“You make the shot,” you say. “Bar down. Clean.” Jack exhales. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you say. “And you don’t even need to look, because you already know it’s in.”There’s a long stretch of quiet on the other end of the line. Then, so soft you almost miss it “I wish you were here.”

“I know,” you whisper, throat tightening. “Me too.” Jack sighs, and you hear the rustling of sheets as he shifts. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’re not going to find out,” you say, trying to sound light, but it comes out more fragile than you mean it to. Jack’s quiet for a long time. You think he might have fallen asleep until you hear him murmur, “You’re the only thing keeping me sane right now.” You press the phone closer to your ear, even though it won’t bring him any closer. “You’ve got this,” you whisper. “You’re going to be fine.”

Jack breathes out, low and even. “Stay on the phone with me?”

“Yeah,” you say, curling into your pillow. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Jack’s quiet for a while after that, but you don’t hang up. You stay there, listening to the sound of his breathing as it evens out, until the line finally goes quiet and you know he’s asleep. You don’t hang up. Not yet.

⟡

Jack’s been quiet all morning. His usual easy smile is nowhere to be found, replaced by a tight line of tension in his jaw. He’s been bouncing his knee relentlessly, his leg jittering under the table during breakfast at the hotel. He barely touched his food, pushing scrambled eggs around his plate until Quinn took it away and told him to stop torturing it. Now, he’s sitting next to you on the edge of the bed, his head tipped back against the wall, his fingers tapping absently against his knee. The hotel room is bright from the mid-morning sun filtering through the sheer curtains, but it feels too quiet  too still  like the entire day is holding its breath.

Jack’s name has been everywhere since the Combine. Every hockey account, every sports network, every mock draft all saying the same thing. First overall. Franchise player. Generational talent. He should be used to it by now, but it feels different this time. Closer. Like the weight of it all is pressing down on his chest. And you feel it too, even from miles away. You saw it during the Combine  the way he tensed when people mentioned the draft, how he downplayed his scores and his interviews even when you knew he’d crushed them. Jack’s always been good at brushing things off, but this feels different. Bigger. Like it’s not just about hockey anymore. It’s about living up to something.

The draft isn’t until later tonight, but the weight of it is already pressing down. Jack’s been working toward this moment his whole life, the moment his name is called, the moment his future in the NHL becomes real and now that it’s finally here, it’s like he can’t figure out how to breathe through it.

You shift closer until your knee bumps his. “You’re thinking too hard.”

Jack’s eyes slide toward you, dark under the shadows of his lashes. He huffs out a breath. “How am I supposed to not think about it?” His voice is quiet, frayed at the edges.

You reach for his hand, your fingers slipping between his. He’s warm always is, but his hand is stiff, tense. “I don’t know. Maybe stop overthinking it.”

Jack lets out a shaky breath, his thumb brushing along your knuckles. His gaze drifts toward the window, but you can tell he’s not really seeing it. His mind is already at Rogers Arena, already running through every possible outcome. He’s been carrying the weight of this for months the expectations, the pressure, the comparisons to Quinn, to his dad and you know it’s only gotten heavier.

“Jack.” You squeeze his hand. He doesn’t look at you right away, but when he does, his eyes are wide, a little raw around the edges. You offer him a small smile. “You’ve got this.”

Jack’s mouth twitches like he wants to smile back, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “And what if I don’t?”

“You will.” You don’t hesitate, don’t even think about it. You just know. Jack’s been skating since before he could walk. He’s trained for this put in the work, put in the hours. He’s ready. Even if he can’t see it right now.

Jack’s gaze stays on you, his brow furrowing slightly. His hand tightens around yours. “I’m scared,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper.

You shift closer until your shoulder presses against his. “That’s normal.”

Jack’s eyes darken. “What if I’m not good enough?”

“You are.”

Jack swallows hard, his jaw working. He looks away, his throat bobbing as he tries to steady his breathing. You can feel the tension radiating off of him, the way his chest rises and falls too quickly. His thumb rubs absently against the back of your hand.

You lean into him, resting your head against his shoulder. “It’s going to be okay,” you say softly. “Even if you don’t go first. Even if it doesn’t go the way you expect  you’ll still have hockey. You’ll still have me.”

Jack’s breath stutters. He turns his head slightly, his cheek brushing against your hair. “You mean that?”

You lift your head and meet his gaze. “Of course I do.”

Jack’s hand slides from your hand to your knee, his fingers curling around it like he’s grounding himself there. His eyes search yours, and for a moment, it feels like the weight of the room shifts. The nerves are still there, the pressure, the uncertainty but some of the tension in his face softens. His eyes flick toward your mouth, then back to your eyes. He exhales slowly. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

“You’ll never have to find out,” you say, just as softly.

Jack’s mouth tugs at the corner. He leans in, pressing his forehead against yours. “Promise?”

You smile, your hand lifting to his jaw. “Promise.”

Jack lets out a shaky breath and closes his eyes for a moment, his hand tightening on your knee. The quiet settles around you both, not the heavy kind, not the tense kind  just quiet.

“Jack?” Quinn’s voice breaks the silence, followed by a knock at the door. “We’ve gotta go soon.”

Jack sighs. He lifts his head, his eyes lingering on you for a second longer before he pulls away. “Yeah, okay.”

Jack stands, adjusting his shirt and brushing his hands down his pants. His gaze flicks toward you, hesitant. “You’re coming with us, right?”

You stand too, straightening his collar. “Obviously.”

Jack’s mouth curves into something close to a real smile, small but genuine. He takes your hand again, linking your fingers as he leads you toward the door.

The car ride to Rogers Arena is quiet. Jack sits next to you in the backseat, his knee bouncing, his fingers tapping against his thigh. He’s wearing a fitted suit, his hair styled but still a little messy at the top. You can tell he’s trying not to overthink it, but the tension in his jaw gives him away.

Quinn and Luke sit in the back of the car, phone in their hand, scrolling through Twitter. The whole car feels charged, the anticipation building the closer you get to the arena. When you pull up, Jack hesitates for half a second before stepping out. His hand brushes against yours as you follow him out of the car.

Inside, the energy is palpable. The arena is packed with media, fans, scouts, the low hum of conversations mixing with the occasional burst of camera flashes. Jack tugs at the cuff of his jacket, his mouth pulling into a thin line. His eyes flick toward you.

You slip your hand into his, squeezing gently. “Deep breath,” you say.

Jack’s jaw relaxes slightly. He squeezes your hand back. His eyes linger on you for a beat before he nods. “Yeah. Okay.”

Quinn steps up behind him, clapping a hand on his shoulder. “You’ve got this”

Jack’s mouth twitches. He looks toward the draft stage, toward the rows of seats, the cameras, the scouts and then back at you. His hand tightens around yours.

“You’re with me, right?” Jack asks quietly.

You smile. “Always.”

Jack breathes out. And this time, when he looks toward the stage, the tension in his jaw fades just a little.

Jack’s heart is hammering. It’s too loud in here the buzz of conversation, the hum of the arena speakers, the occasional burst of laughter from a family. His suit jacket feels too tight across his shoulders, his tie choking him a little more with each second that passes. His name has been circling the draft floor for months, repeated on every broadcast and in every article first overall, franchise player, generational talent  but none of it feels real right now. It feels heavy. Like the weight of the entire league is resting on his chest, squeezing the air from his lungs.

He shifts in his seat, his hand resting against his thigh, and feels your fingers slip between his. His head turns toward you automatically. You’re sitting beside him, close enough that your knee is pressed against his. Your hand is steady, your thumb brushing lightly over his knuckles. He doesn’t realize how hard he’s gripping you until you adjust your hand slightly, your grip soft but certain.

“You’re okay,” you whisper, low enough that only he can hear. Jack breathes out shakily. “Am I?” You smile soft, sure. “Yeah. You are.”

Jack’s gaze drops to the floor, his thumb smoothing over the inside of your wrist. He can feel the pulse there, steady beneath his touch. His heart’s not steady. It’s racing. He doesn’t know if it’ll settle until this is over until he hears his name.

Quinn is watching him. He’s sitting straight in his chair, hands resting on his thighs, but his eyes are soft when they meet Jack’s. “You’ve got this,” Quinn says quietly. Jack’s mouth twitches. He starts to nod, but then Luke leans across from Quinn. 

“Yeah,” Luke adds, his grin lopsided, a little nervous but bright. “And if you don’t, you can always blame it on Quinn.”

Quinn rolls his eyes. 

Jack huffs a soft laugh, but it fades quickly. His gaze shifts toward the stage, where the Devils’ management team is already gathering. The nerves coil tighter in his chest. His hand tightens around yours.

“You’re with me, right?” Jack asks quietly. 

You don’t even hesitate. “Always.”

Jack’s eyes soften, some of the tension fading from his expression. He breathes out and shifts closer, his knee pressing into yours beneath the table. He doesn’t have time to say anything else before the commissioner steps up to the microphone.

Jack’s stomach drops. The noise in the arena swells as the camera swings toward the Devils’ table. The commissioner is still talking, but Jack barely hears it over the blood rushing in his ears. His legs feel locked beneath the table. His chest is tight.

“And with the first overall pick, the New Jersey Devils are proud to select from the US National Team Development Program… Jack Hughes.”

Your hand squeezes his.

Jack exhales. He stands on shaky legs as Quinn claps him on the back, Luke grinning wide as he jumps up to hug him. “Dude!” Luke laughs, his arms tight around Jack’s waist. Quinn pulls them both in, his head knocking against Jack’s shoulder. Jack’s laugh comes out a little breathless.

“Go get your jersey,” Quinn says, his voice thick with pride.

Jack’s hand is still locked with yours as he turns toward you. His expression is soft, his eyes dark and bright all at once. “You’re coming with me after this, right?”

You smile. “Try and stop me.”

Jack hesitates for half a second, then leans in. He kisses you quickly  just a press of his lips against your cheek  but it’s enough to make your breath hitch. His thumb brushes over your knuckles once more before he finally lets go and steps away.

Jack walks toward the stage, his heart still pounding but his legs moving steady beneath him. He can feel Quinn and Luke’s eyes on him, your smile burned into the back of his mind. He shakes hands with the commissioner, pulls on the Devils jersey, and lifts the hat onto his head. Cameras flash. The noise swells. His chest is tight again  but this time, it’s not nerves. It’s something else. Something warmer.

He looks back toward the floor, toward the row of seats where Quinn, Luke, and you are sitting. You’re still watching him. Your hand rests against your heart. Quinn’s arms are crossed, smiling like he knew this would happen all along. Luke is grinning wide, already pointing toward the Devils logo on Jack’s chest.

Jack breathes out. And this time, he smiles.

After the photos and the handshakes, Jack ushered toward the media pit. Questions are thrown at him from every angle about expectations, about his future with the Devils, about being a franchise player. He answers them as best as he can, his gaze flicking toward the crowd every so often, searching for you. When it’s over, the team staff directs him toward the tunnel, and he barely makes it a few steps before he hears someone yell his name.

“Jack!”

He turns just in time to see you barreling toward him, arms outstretched. Jack’s barely able to brace himself before you crash into his chest, wrapping your arms around his neck. His arms come up automatically, locking around your waist. You’re laughing and crying at the same time, your face buried in his shoulder. Jack breathes out, his chin resting on top of your head.

“You did it,” you whisper.

Jack’s arms tighten around you. “Couldn’t have done it without you.”

“You could’ve,” you mumble, pulling back enough to look at him. “But I’m glad you didn’t.”

Jack’s gaze drops to your mouth. His hands settle at your waist, his thumbs brushing lightly over the hem of your sweater. His chest is still pounding, but this feels steadier somehow. Grounding.

“Hey,” Quinn’s voice cuts in. Jack glances up to see Quinn and Luke standing nearby, Luke practically vibrating with excitement. Quinn’s got that proud but pretending to be casual look on his face.

Luke steps forward first, grinning. “Dude! First overall!” He throws his arms around Jack’s waist, nearly knocking him over. Jack laughs, ruffling Luke’s hair.

“Couldn’t have done it without you either,” Jack says.

Luke pulls back, his smile wide. Quinn rolls his eyes, but his smile doesn’t fade. “Congrats, Jack.” He steps in, pulling Jack into a one armed hug and clapping him on the back. “Knew you had it in you.”

Jack’s throat feels tight. He pulls back and looks between Quinn, Luke, and you. His family. His people. His hand finds yours again, his fingers threading through yours like it’s instinct. Your gaze softens, and Jack feels his heartbeat finally settle.

“Come on,” Quinn says, nodding toward the tunnel. “Let’s go celebrate.”

“Yeah,” Jack says. “Let’s go.”

⟡

It’s been a whirlwind since the draft. Jack signed his contract with the Devils two weeks ago, and now he’s leaving to New Jersey for rookie camp. Jack’s flight to New Jersey is early. Too early. You’re still wrapped in blankets on the couch when he stands in the doorway, a duffel bag slung over his shoulder. His Devils hat is pulled low over his eyes, casting a shadow across his face. His mouth pulls into a thin line as he looks at you, hesitation flickering in his eyes.

“I should get going,” Jack says quietly.

You push yourself up, rubbing the sleep from your eyes as you cross the room toward him. “Are you sure you have everything?”

Jack nods, but his gaze stays on the floor. His hand tightens around the strap of his bag. “Yeah.”

You hesitate for half a second before stepping closer. Your arms wrap around his waist, and Jack exhales sharply as he melts into you. His chin rests on top of your head, and his heartbeat thrums against your cheek.

“I’m gonna miss you,” you murmur.

Jack’s hand slides up your back. “It’s not like we’ve never done long distance before.”

“Yeah, but” You trail off, the words sticking in your throat. It feels different this time. You pull back, your hands lingering on the hem of his hoodie. “Just don’t forget about me when you’re a big NHL star.”

Jack’s mouth twitches. “That’s not gonna happen.”

“You don’t know that.”

Jack’s eyes soften. He leans down, brushing his nose against yours. “I do.”

You smile, even though your chest feels tight. Jack kisses you softly with a lingering brush of lips  and then pulls back too soon. His hand stays on your waist for an extra second before he steps away, his expression shifting into something steadier, more composed.

“Call me when you land?” you ask.

Jack’s mouth tugs at the corner. “Always.”

You walk him to the door, watching as he disappears down the driveway and into the early morning light. Your chest feels hollow by the time his car pulls away. The silence that follows is heavier than you expect.

You try to keep busy over the next week  spending time with friends, picking up extra shifts but it’s hard to ignore how quiet it feels without Jack around. He calls every night, though, and you fall into a familiar rhythm. Jack fills you in on the details of rookie camp, the fitness tests, the long practices, and the media. He tells you about the other guys, how Nico seems nice, how Bratt’s already chirping at him like they’ve known each other for years. He tells you how much faster the game feels, how much stronger the guys are. You can hear it in his voice, the strain beneath his usual confidence.

“Hard day?” you ask one night, curled up in bed with your phone pressed to your ear.

Jack sighs. “Yeah.”

“Wanna talk about it?” Jack’s quiet for a long moment. “I just don't know. I feel like I’m playing catch up. Like everyone’s two steps ahead.”

“You’ve barely been there for a few days, Jack.”

“I know,” Jack says. “But it’s not supposed to feel this hard.”

“You put too much pressure on yourself.” Jack huffs a soft laugh, but there’s no real humor in it. “It’s kinda hard not to.” You’re quiet for a beat. Then, “You’re not gonna figure it out overnight.”

“I know.”

“But you’ll figure it out. You always do.” Jack doesn’t say anything for a second. Then, quietly, “I hope you’re right.” You close your eyes. “I always am.” Jack’s breath crackles over the line. “Can I call you tomorrow?”

“You don’t have to ask.”

Jack’s quiet for another moment. “I love you and I miss you .”

Your heart clenches. “I miss and love you too.”

Jack sighs softly. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight, Jack.”

You keep the phone pressed to your ear until the line goes quiet.

Jack calls you after his full day of rookie camp, his voice low and tired through the phone. He sounds exhausted, more than you expected. You’re sitting on the floor of your bedroom, your knees pulled to your chest, the phone pressed to your ear. 

“Hey,” Jack says, his voice scratchy. “Hey,” you say softly. “How was it?” Jack exhales a sharp breath. “Brutal.”  

“What happened?”  

“Fitness testing.” Jack huffs a soft, humorless laugh. “Like the Combine but worse.”  You sit up a little straighter. “Worse?”  

“Longer. Harder.” Jack’s voice dips lower. “I thought I was ready for it, but I don’t know.” He sounds frustrated, and that’s what gets you. Jack rarely admits when something’s hard. 

“You’re gonna be fine,” you say quietly.  “I don’t know,” Jack says again. “It’s not just the testing. The practices everyone’s so fast. So strong. I’m trying to keep up, but it feels like I’m a step behind.”  

You can almost picture him  sprawled across his bed, running a hand through his hair the way he does when he’s stressed. Your chest tightens. “You’ve been there for what five days?”  

“ a week.”  

“A week” you repeat. “Jack, you need to give yourself some time.”  

“I don’t have time,” Jack says. His voice sharpens, the frustration cracking through. “This is the NHL. Everyone’s watching.” 

You know that’s true you’ve seen the articles, the highlight reels on social media. It’s a lot for anyone especially for Jack, who’s always carried the weight of expectation like it’s part of his DNA.  

“Hey,” you say softly. “You don’t have to figure everything out right away. This isn’t going to be easy it’s not supposed to be. But you wouldn’t be there if you couldn’t handle it.”  

Jack’s quiet for a long moment. Then, barely above a whisper: “I don’t know if I can.” You close your eyes, your heart tightening. “Jack.” 

“I’m serious,” Jack says. His voice cracks a little at the edges. “What if I’m not as good as everyone thinks I am?”  

“You are,” you say immediately. “Jack, you’ve been working toward this your whole life. You belong there.”  

“Do I?” 

“Yes,” you say. “And if you can’t believe that yet let me believe it for you.”  Jack doesn’t answer right away. His breath crackles over the line. “What would I do without you?”  You smile faintly, even though your chest aches. “You’d figure it out.”  

“Maybe,” Jack says. “But I’m glad I don’t have to.”  

Jack starts texting you more after that. Sometimes it’s a quick message in the morning on the ice or a random photo of his new locker with his nameplate above it. Sometimes it’s a rant about drills, or a chirp about one of the guys. Jesper seems to be his favorite target. 

Bratt tripped me in practice today. little rat  

What'd you do? you text back.  

chirped him about his hair  

You can’t help but smile. But there are harder messages too.  

Bag skate this morning. Thought I was going to pass out.  

Coach isn’t happy with me.  

Everyone’s so much stronger. 

You know Jack doesn’t say these things to anyone else. With the media, with his teammates he’s steady. Confident. But with you he lets the cracks show. And when he calls you late at night, his voice low and rough, you know that’s when he’s feeling it the most.  

One night, it’s past midnight when your phone buzzes on your nightstand. You’re half asleep, barely registering the sound until it buzzes again. You squint at the screen. Jack.  

“Hey,” you answer, your voice thick with sleep.  “Did I wake you?” Jack asks. “No,” you lie. “What’s wrong?”  

Jack sighs, and you can hear the tension in it. “Nothing.”  You wait. Jack’s quiet for so long you think maybe he’s about to hang up. Then he says, “I just needed to hear your voice.”  

You sit up, rubbing at your eyes. “Rough day?”  

Jack’s breath catches. “Yeah.” 

“What happened?”  

Jack’s quiet for another long moment. “Coach ripped into me.”  

You frown. “Why?”  

“Made a bad play during the scrimmage,” Jack says. “Got caught flat footed on the backcheck. Then I missed the net on a breakaway.” 

“That doesn’t sound like you.”  

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” Jack says. His voice drops lower, almost shaky. “I’m trying. It’s just everything’s so much faster than I expected. I feel like I’m drowning.”  

“You’re not,” you say quietly. “You’re adjusting.”  

Jack’s breath hitches. “What if I don’t?”  

“You will.”  

Jack doesn’t answer for a long time. You hear rustling on the other end of the line, like he’s lying down. “I miss you,” he says finally.  

Your chest tightens. “I miss you too.”  

Jack’s voice gets softer. “Will you stay on the phone with me? Just for a little while?”  

You slide down beneath the covers, resting your head against the pillow. “Of course.”  

Jack breathes out. “Thanks.”  

You don’t say anything after that. Jack’s breathing evens out eventually, and you think he’s starting to fall asleep when you hear him murmur, barely audible “Love you.”  

You don’t know if he’s even awake enough to remember saying it. But your heart thuds painfully against your ribs.  

“I love you too,” you whisper.

⟡

Jack’s first game in the NHL is at home, and the crowd is louder than he expected. He steps onto the ice at Prudential Center, the Devils logo bright under the lights. The noise is deafening, the kind of sound that hits you square in the chest  and for a second it’s hard to breathe. His legs feel shaky as he skates through warmups, the ice cutting beneath his skates with every push. The energy is electric, but it’s not enough to drown out the knot in his chest. He knows everyone’s watching him, the first overall pick, the franchise’s future. He tries not to think about it but it’s impossible to ignore the weight of it.

You’re watching from Michigan. The game’s on TV in your room, your laptop balanced on your knees. Jack looks smaller on the screen somehow swallowed up by the bright lights and the size of the arena. He’s wearing number 86, and it still feels surreal seeing it on an NHL jersey. He’s buzzing with nerves  you can tell by the way he’s gripping his stick too tightly during warmups. He’s always done that when he’s nervous.

Jack texts you after warmups while the Zamboni is still clearing the ice. “Starting on the second line. My hands are shaking.”

You smile, already typing back. “You’ve got this. Just play your game.”

Jack’s response comes quickly. “I feel like I’m going to throw up.”

“You won’t.” You pause before adding, “But maybe don’t sit next to Nico if you do.”

A minute passes before the dots appear again. “Not funny.”

“A little funny.”

Jack doesn’t respond, but the small, shaky smile he gives the camera when it passes by his bench tells you he saw it.

The game itself is rough. Jack looks fast, quick on his feet, but the Devils’ offense struggles to keep up. He gets knocked down hard in the first period, bouncing off the boards and coming up wincing. He pushes through it, but you can tell he’s frustrated the way he shakes his head after a shift, the way he skates to the bench with his head down. The Devils lose 4-1, and Jack finishes with a minus-two rating. His line gets hemmed in the defensive zone more than once, and even though it’s just one game, the postgame interviews are already talking about whether he can handle the league’s size and speed.

He calls you after the game, his voice flat. “That sucked.”

“You knew it wasn’t going to be easy,” you say softly.

“I didn’t think it would be this bad,” Jack mutters. He sighs, and you can hear the exhaustion in his voice. “I was minus-two. Do you know how bad that is?”

“Jack”

“Everyone’s already talking about it,” he cuts you off. His voice tightens, the frustration bubbling to the surface. “I can’t screw this up” He trails off, his breath shaky.

“You’re not screwing anything up,” you say firmly. “It’s one game.”

“It’s not just one game.” Jack exhales through his nose, and you can hear the tension in it. “This is what I’ve been working toward my whole life. And what if I’m not good enough?”

You close your eyes, pressing your forehead to your hand. “Jack. You are good enough. You belong here.”

Jack’s quiet for a moment. “Yeah,” he says eventually. But he doesn’t sound like he believes it.

The first few weeks are more of the same. Jack gets pushed around a lot, the physicality wearing on him. He’s getting hit hard, knocked off the puck more than he’s used to. He’s fast, but the guys he’s playing against are bigger, more experienced. He’s trying, you can see it but it’s not coming together the way he wants it to.

Your phone buzzes constantly after games. Jack’s name lights up the screen with texts “Minus-three. Fucking embarrassing.” “I can’t score.” “I don’t know what I’m doing wrong.”

You try to reassure him, but the losses are piling up. The Devils are 0-4-2 to start the season, and Jack’s still scoreless. The media’s already running with it  headlines about whether he was overhyped, if he’s too small for the league. Jack tries to brush it off, but you know it’s getting to him.

It’s late one night when he calls you, his voice quiet. “I don’t know how to fix this.” You sit up in bed, clutching the phone to your ear. “You will.” 

Jack doesn’t say anything for a while. “I just” He sighs. “I miss you.”

Your chest tightens. “I miss you too.”

Jack’s breath hitches. “I hate it here,” he says quietly.

Your eyes burn. “I know.”

“I don’t know how to do this without you.”

“You’re not doing this without me,” you whisper.

Jack’s quiet for a long time. His breathing is steady in your ear. Eventually, he says, “I just want to come home.”

You close your eyes, swallowing down the ache in your chest. “I know,” you say softly. “But you can’t.”

Jack doesn’t answer, but you know he’s still there. After a while, his breathing evens out, and you realize he’s fallen asleep on the line. You stay there for a while, the phone pressed to your ear, listening to his quiet breathing.

Jack finally scores his first goal two weeks into the season, a breakaway against Vancouver. Quinn’s on the ice when it happens, and you see the way Quinn hugs him against the glass after the puck crosses the line. Jack looks lighter for a moment, his smile big and bright, but it fades quickly after the game ends. The Devils still lost 5-2.

He calls you that night, and he sounds more tired than happy. “It doesn’t matter if we keep losing,” Jack mutters.

“Yes, it does,” you say. “Jack, you scored. That’s huge.”

Jack sighs. “Yeah.” He’s quiet for a second before adding, “Quinn said you screamed when it went in.”

You laugh. “Maybe.”

Jack’s breath softens. “I miss you.”

Your heart squeezes. “I miss you too.”

Jack’s quiet for a long time before he says, “I don’t know how long I can keep doing this.”

You don’t know how to answer that. So you don’t.

⟡

Jack’s rookie season should’ve been exciting. It should’ve been everything he’s worked for. Instead, it’s November, and the Devils are on a six-game losing streak. Jack’s gone nine games without a goal, and the media’s not holding back. Every headline is brutal. Every post game interview is worse. He’s not smiling as much anymore. He’s quiet when you call, sometimes too tired to even talk. And when you visit, it feels like he’s somewhere else entirely.

The last time you saw him in person was two weeks ago. You’d flown from Michigan to see him play in Newark the first time you’d been able to since the season started. Jack had barely looked at you when you met him outside the locker room. His face was tight, his eyes tired. He’d hugged you, but it was quick. Impersonal. And when you sat with his family during the game, you saw the tension in his shoulders, the way he carried himself on the ice like the weight of it all was pressing down too hard. He’d been the last one off the ice after the loss, his head down, his mouth pulled tight.

He called you that night late, when you were already back at the hotel and apologized. “I just I’m sorry I couldn’t see you more,” Jack had said, his voice low. He’d sounded exhausted. “I’m just tired.”

Now, it’s almost midnight again, and you’re staring at your phone, waiting for him to call. He hasn’t. You’ve texted twice with no answer. You know he’s probably at home by now, maybe asleep. Or maybe not. He’s started turning his phone off after games. Less noise, he’d said. Less pressure. But you don’t know if it’s helping.

It’s hard to know what to say when you do talk to him. When he tells you he’s doing fine, even though you can hear it in his voice that he isn’t. When he tells you, “I’ll figure it out,” even though you can see him unraveling.

The next morning, you call him before class. He answers on the third ring, his voice rough with sleep. “Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” you say softly. “You okay?”

Jack sighs. You can hear the sound of him rubbing a hand over his face. “Yeah. Just tired.”

“You’ve been saying that a lot.”

Jack’s quiet for a long time. “Yeah.”

You sit down on the edge of your bed, clutching the phone a little tighter. “Jack”

“I’m fine,” he says quickly. Too quickly.

“You’re not,” you say gently. “You don’t have to-”

“I said I’m fine,” Jack cuts in. His tone is sharper than you’ve ever heard it.

You go quiet. Jack exhales. “Sorry,” he mutters. “I just don't know.”

“It’s okay,” you say softly.

Jack doesn’t say anything for a while. You can hear his breathing over the line, steady but heavy. Finally, he speaks again, his voice barely above a whisper. “I don’t know how to fix this.”

You swallow the lump in your throat. “You don’t have to fix it alone.”

Jack doesn’t answer. And after a while, the line goes quiet.

The next time you talk to Jack, it’s after another loss. This time to Toronto. Another night of him leaving the rink without a point. Another night of reporters asking him what’s wrong, why he isn’t producing.

“I’m trying,” Jack says, his voice tight. “I’m trying and it’s not, it's not working.”

“I know,” you say softly. “But it’s not your fault. It’s a team-”

“I don’t care if it’s a team thing,” Jack snaps. “I’m the first pick. I’m supposed to be the one fixing it.”

“Jack-”

“I have to be better.” His voice cracks. “I just I don’t know how.”

Your heart aches. You want to reach through the phone and pull him into you. Hold him until the tension melts away. But you can’t. You’re too far away. And Jack’s already starting to pull back.

“You’re not alone im with you,” you say quietly.

Jack doesn’t answer.

You hear him breathe out. Then the call ends.

The worst part is that you don’t know how to help him. Jack’s not letting you in the way he used to. And you can feel it the distance growing between you, like something fraying at the edges. You want to fix it. You want to be enough to hold him together.But Jack’s starting to slip through your fingers.

⟡

After a while, you notice that not only jack started to drift from you, but also your relationship with him. It starts with the little things.

The missed calls. The delayed replies. The way Jack’s voice sounds a little too thin over the phone, his laugh not quite reaching the places it usually does. He’s tired you can hear it even when he tries to hide it.

At first, you don’t think much of it. Jack’s schedule is brutal, and it’s not like he’s never missed a call before. But then it starts happening more often. You’ll text him after a game Proud of you, call me when you can? and it’ll sit there for hours. Sometimes until the next day. Or he’ll call you late, hours after he said he would, with a rushed apology and a tired “I’m sorry, babe. I just passed out after practice.”

You get it. You do.  He’s in the middle of his rookie season, grinding through the hardest stretch of hockey he’s ever played, and he’s under more pressure than he’ll ever admit. But that doesn’t make it sting any less when you see his name light up your phone after midnight and realize you’ve already given up hope of hearing from him that night. 

Or when you do pick up, and it’s not the Jack you’re used to hearing.

“Hey,” you say softly, curling up under the covers. “You okay?”

Jack’s voice is thin over the line. “Yeah. Just tired.”

He always says that. Just tired. Even when it sounds like more than that.

“You played well tonight,” you offer. “Had that sick pass in the second.”

Jack’s breath crackles faintly through the speaker. “Didn’t matter. We still lost.”

“It’s not on you.”

Jack hums. You can picture the way he’s probably lying there  head buried in the pillow, hand resting over his face, the line of his jaw tight. He’s always been hard on himself. But lately, it's gotten worse.

The games aren’t going well. The media’s been tearing into him —first overall pick and only four goals? The disappointment in the headlines is almost palpable. You’ve stopped reading the articles, but you know Jack hasn’t. He doesn’t talk about it, but you can tell from the way he’s quieter now. The way his texts have dwindled from paragraphs to one word answers. 

The last time you FaceTimed, Jack barely looked at you. He was lying in bed, hair damp from his post-game shower, and you could see the crease between his brows even when he wasn’t talking. You tried to make him smile made a dumb joke about how you’d start training to become the Devils' new enforcer but all you got was a faint chuckle and, “Sorry, I’m just-”

“Tired,” you’d finished for him, and Jack had sighed, rubbing his hand over his face.

It’s been like this for a while now. He’s slipping  or maybe you’re the one slipping away. You don’t know how to fix it when Jack’s over 600 miles away, and every conversation feels like trying to grasp sand in your hands the harder you try to hold on, the faster it slips through your fingers.  

You’re curled up in bed now, phone pressed to your ear as Jack’s voice filters through the speaker. 

“It was bad,” Jack says. His voice is quiet. Defeated. “I just I don’t know what’s wrong with me.”

You sit up a little, pushing back the tight feeling in your chest. “Jack, it’s not you. The whole team’s struggling right now.”

“Yeah, but” He cuts himself off. You can hear the frustrated exhale on the other end. “I should be better. I was the first overall pick  I’m supposed to make a difference.”

“You are making a difference,” you say gently. “It’s your rookie year. No one expects you to carry the team.”

Jack’s silent for a beat too long. 

You squeeze your eyes shut. “Jack?”

“Yeah,” he says, but his voice sounds distant. “I know.”

You hesitate. “Do you, though?”

His breath hitches. “I just I don’t know. Feels like I’m trying, but nothing’s working. And people are starting to talk, you know? About how maybe I wasn’t ready, maybe I’m not”

“Jack,” you cut in. “Stop.”

He doesn’t respond.

“You’re not a mistake,” you say, because you know that’s what he’s thinking. “You deserve to be there. You worked your ass off for this.”

“I guess.”

“Not ‘I guess,’” you press. “Jack, you”

“I know,” he snaps, and the sharpness of it cuts through the space between you. You freeze, swallowing the knot in your throat. Jack exhales shakily. His voice softens. “Sorry. I’m just tired.”

You force a small smile even though he can’t see it. “You’re allowed to be tired.”

“Yeah,” Jack says, but it doesn’t sound like he believes it.

Another stretch of silence presses down between you. You wait for Jack to fill it, but he doesn’t.

“You want me to stay on the phone with you?” you ask quietly.

Jack’s quiet for a second. “No its okay”

“I’ll stay” 

“Okay.”

So you stay. Jack doesn’t say much after that. You can hear the rustle of his comforter as he shifts around, settling into bed. His breathing starts to even out. You stay awake longer than you probably should, listening to the soft sound of him breathing on the other end of the line, wondering how much longer you’ll be able to reach him like this.

Because lately, even when he’s right there, yet he feels so far away.

⟡

It’s been months of missed calls, delayed texts, and half-hearted conversations. Jack’s always tired. Or busy. Or distracted. And when you do talk, it’s like he’s only halfway there like some part of him is already pulling away. You’ve tried not to read into it, tried to convince yourself it’s just the pressure of his rookie season, that things will settle once he finds his rhythm. But deep down, you know better. It’s not just hockey. It’s him. It’s you. It’s the quiet space growing between you, the way it stretches wider with every unanswered text and every empty conversation.

So you book a flight to New Jersey because you need to know if this is still something you can save or if you lost him completely

DAY ONE  

The cab ride from the airport to Jack’s apartment is quiet. Too quiet. The city outside the window passes in a blur of gray and headlights, but you don’t really see it. Your phone sits heavy in your lap, the screen dark except for the faint reflection of the passing streetlights. You tap your thumb against the side of it like you're expecting a message that you know isn’t coming. Jack texted you earlier to confirm he’d be home when you arrived, but that was three hours ago. No follow-up. No “Can’t wait to see you.” No little heart emoji like he used to send.  

It’s not that he’s ignoring you  at least, not outright. He’s busy, you’ve told yourself a hundred times over the last few weeks. Rookie season is demanding. New city, new team, new pressure. He’s adjusting. You should understand that. And you do. You swear you do. But understanding it doesn’t make the silence feel any less heavy.  

When the cab pulls up in front of Jack’s building, you hesitate for a second before stepping out. You’re not sure why  it’s not like you’ve never been here before but the weight sitting low in your stomach makes it hard to breathe. The driver sets your bag on the curb, and you force yourself to pick it up, shoulders tensing under the weight of it as you walk toward the entrance.  

Jack opens the door when you knock. He’s in a plain Devils hoodie and sweatpants, his hair damp like he just showered. He smiles, but it’s thin, barely reaching his eyes. 

“Hey,” he says. His voice is soft, like he's already tired.  

You smile, forcing brightness into your voice. “Hey.”  

Jack leans down to kiss you, but it’s brief. Quick. Like he’s already pulling away before it starts. His hand finds the small of your back and guides you into the apartment, but it drops as soon as the door closes behind you.  

The apartment looks the same cleaner than you expected, probably because Ellen came to visit last week but it feels off. Like someone came through and rearranged all the furniture just enough to make you notice. Jack’s shoes are in a neat row by the door. There’s a half empty coffee mug sitting on the counter. His phone is face down on the couch.  

Jack sits down on the couch, leaving a noticeable gap beside him. You sit too, trying to close it, but he doesn’t shift toward you.  

“So,” you start, your voice too bright, too forced, “how was practice today?”  

“Fine.”  

Your stomach twists. “Just fine?”  

Jack shrugs, eyes fixed on the muted TV. “Yeah.”  

You watch him for a second, the sharp line of his jaw and the way his hand rests against his knee. Normally, he'd have his arm around you by now. Normally, you’d be tangled together and he’d be rambling about plays and drills and how Nico wouldn’t stop chirping him today.  

But he’s quiet. Detached.  

And you’re hyper aware of the space between you.  

Jack reaches for the remote and starts flipping through channels. His brows furrowed in concentration, but he’s not really watching anything. It’s like his body is here, but the rest of him is somewhere else.  

“Hungry?” he asks after a minute.  

“Yeah, I could eat.”  

“Cool.” He stands. “I’ll order something.”  

And that’s it. He disappears into the kitchen without asking what you want. A minute later, you hear the soft murmur of his voice on the phone.   

You sit there, your heart beating loud in your ears, and wonder why it feels like you’ve already lost him.  

Jack comes back a few minutes later and drops onto the couch, his knee brushing against yours for half a second before he shifts away.  

“Food should be here in, like, twenty minutes,” he says.  

You nod. “okay”  

More silence. The TV hums in the background, the flicker of light reflecting off Jack’s face. You glance at him, hoping he’ll look over at you, but his gaze stays fixed on the screen. His hand is resting between his knees, his fingers pulling at a loose thread in the fabric of his sweatpants.  

You clear your throat. “Did you, um talk to Quinn today he was asking me about you?”  

Jack’s mouth tightens. “Yeah.”  

“And?”  

“He’s good.”  

You wait for him to elaborate, but he doesn’t. The seconds stretch out between you, long and tense and uncomfortable.  

“Jack.” You lean toward him, lowering your voice. “What’s going on?” Jack’s jaw twitches. “Nothing.”  

“It doesn’t feel like nothing.”  

Jack sighs, running a hand through his hair. “It’s just been a long week.”  

You search his face, the dark circles under his eyes, the faint crease in his forehead and you know he’s not lying. But you also know he’s not telling you the whole truth.   

“You know you can talk to me, right?” you say, your voice soft.  

Jack’s gaze flickers toward you, and for a second, you see it  the familiar warmth, the quiet vulnerability you’ve always known how to reach. His eyes soften, and he looks like he might actually say something.  

But then the buzzer for the front door sounds, and the moment evaporates.  

Jack stands quickly. “That’s the food.”  

You watch him cross the room, feeling the distance stretch wider with every step.  

He comes back with a brown takeout bag, setting it on the coffee table before sitting down. He opens the bag and pulls out containers of food  sushi, not your favorite  and hands you a pair of chopsticks without looking at you. 

You stare down at the food. “Did you know what I wanted?”  

Jack hesitates. “I just ordered something quick.”  

Your chest tightens. Jack always knows what you want. He knows you like avocado rolls, not spicy tuna. He knows you like extra soy sauce on the side and that you don’t like wasabi. But tonight, it’s like he didn’t even think about it.  

You pick at the sushi, appetite gone. Jack eats quietly, his eyes back on the TV. The sound of the game commentator fills the air, too loud, pressing into your skull.  

After a few minutes, Jack stands and starts cleaning up. He takes your barely touched container and tosses it in the trash without a word.  

“I’m gonna shower,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck.  

“Oh. Okay.”  

Jack hesitates in the doorway. His eyes flick toward you, and for a second, you think he might come back, sit down, pull you into his arms, tell you he’s just tired and that everything is fine.  

But he doesn’t. He disappears down the hall, and a minute later, you hear the sound of the shower running.  

You sit there, hands clasped in your lap, listening to the water hit the tile. Your heart feels too big and too small at the same time, pressing against the walls of your chest.   

Jack’s phone buzzes on the table, and you glance at it. A text from Nico lights up the screen:  

Good skate today. 

 You stare at the message for a long time. 

The shower runs in the background, and you sit alone on the couch, feeling the emptiness stretch out around you.

DAY TWO

Jack sleeps with his back to you.  

It’s not the first time, but it feels different tonight. Final. His side of the bed feels miles away, the sheets cool and untouched where his body should be. You lie there for a long time, staring at the ceiling, listening to the sound of his breathing. It’s shallow, restless. Every few minutes, he shifts, the mattress dipping under his weight.  

You think about reaching for him, curling up into his side like you always do. Your hand twitches under the blanket, fingers itching to brush over his back, to anchor yourself to the steady rhythm of his breathing. But something stops you. Fear, maybe or just the quiet certainty that if you reach for him, he’ll pull away.  

So you stay still, the space between you cold and unforgiving.  

You wake up sometime in the middle of the night to find him half hanging off the edge of the bed, his face turned toward the wall. His arm is curled beneath his head, his breathing uneven. You watch the rise and fall of his back, the way his shoulders tense even in sleep. He’s not resting, not really.   

You swallow hard and sit up slightly, brushing your hair away from your face. For a second, you think about touching him, coaxing him back toward you. But you don’t. You can’t.   

In the morning, Jack wakes up first. You know this because you hear him moving around the apartment while you lie there, eyes closed, hoping he’ll come back to bed. He doesn’t.  

Instead, you hear the distant sound of water running in the bathroom, the clink of glass in the kitchen. The low hum of the TV. You press your face into the pillow and try to breathe through the tightness in your chest.  

When you finally get up, Jack’s sitting at the kitchen counter with a protein shake. He’s already dressed in workout gear Devils issued shorts and a long-sleeve shirt that fits snug around his arms. His hair is damp, curling slightly at the ends. He glances up when you enter the room.  

“Morning,” you say, your voice coming out softer than you meant.  

“Hey.”  

You sit across from him, pulling your knees up and wrapping your arms around them. Jack’s gaze flickers toward you briefly, then drops back down to his protein shake. He spins the cup slowly in his hands, condensation trailing down the side.  

You try to find his eyes. “Sleep okay?”  

Jack nods, distracted. He taps his thumb against the edge of the cup. “Yeah.”  

“You sure?”  

“Mmhmm.” His gaze darts toward the window.  

You glance at the clock on the microwave. “What time’s practice?”  

“Ten.”  

“You want to grab coffee after?”  

Jack hesitates. His shoulders tighten. “I don’t know. We’ve got media stuff later.”  

“Oh.”  

You feel stupid for asking.  

Jack stands and rinses out his cup in the sink. His back is to you, but you see the tension in his shoulders. He’s holding it all in  the pressure, the frustration, the weight of everything this year has asked of him. Normally, he’d tell you about it. He’d talk through it, let you hold it with him for a little while.  

But now it feels like he’s trying to keep the distance intact.  

“You okay?” you ask quietly.  

“Yeah.”  

“Jack.”  

He sighs and rubs a hand over his face. When he speaks, his voice is tight. “It’s just a lot right now.”  

You nod, even though he’s not looking at you.  

Jack’s hand curls over the edge of the counter. His knuckles turn white for half a second before he exhales and grabs his keys from the hook by the door.  

“I’ll see you later, okay?” His tone is light  too light. Like he’s trying to make this feel normal.  

You sit up straighter. “We could go out tonight. Dinner or something.”  

Jack pauses with his hand on the handle. His eyes flick toward you, guarded. “Yeah. We’ll figure something out.”  

Then he’s gone.  

The door clicks shut behind him, and the quiet of the apartment closes in around you.  

You sit there for a long time, staring at the spot where he stood. The sunlight spills in through the thin curtains, cutting pale lines across the hardwood floor. You think about the way he used to kiss you in the mornings, sleepy and warm, his hand curled over the back of your neck. You think about the way he used to tug you into his chest after a restless night, murmuring sleepy nonsense into your hair.  

And then you think about last night about the empty side of the bed and the quiet wall of his back facing you.  

Your phone buzzes on the table. You grab it quickly, your heart leaping in your chest. But it’s not Jack. It’s a text from quinn  

"Hope you’re having a good time! How’s Jack?" 

You stare at the message for a long moment before typing back:  

"Good. Everything’s good." 

The lie tastes bitter on your tongue.   

You sit there for a while longer, the phone still in your hand, before pushing yourself to your feet. You grab the half-empty protein shake Jack left on the counter and dump it down the sink. The hum of the refrigerator fills the silence.  

It’s only nine o’clock, but it feels later. Your eyes drift toward the bedroom  the sheets still rumpled from sleep and you wonder if you should crawl back into bed and wait for him to come home.  

But you know better.  

Instead, you curl up on the couch and pull the blanket over your legs. Jack’s sweatshirt is draped over the arm of the couch, and you pull it onto your lap, bunching the sleeves in your hands. It smells like his laundry detergent and something warmer, more familiar.  

you press your face into the fabric and close your eyes, trying to remember the last time he held you like he meant it.  

You think about how he used to look at you and really look at you like you were the only thing in the room that mattered.  

But that was months ago. Now, when Jack looks at you, it’s like he’s looking through you. Or worse like he’s already decided what happens next.  

Your phone buzzes again. This time, it’s Jack.  

“Practice ran long. Gonna be late.” 

You type out a quick response  "Okay."  but don’t hit send right away.  

Instead, you sit there with the message glowing on the screen, wondering when it started feeling like this. Like you’re holding onto something that’s already slipping away.

DAY THREE

It was worse the next day. The air felt thicker, like it was weighing down every conversation. Jack seemed distracted, his gaze always drifting toward his phone or the TV. When you asked if he wanted to grab lunch, he hesitated for a second before saying, "Yeah, sure," like he was doing you a favor.

At lunch, he kept glancing around, not meeting your eyes. You watched him scroll through his phone between bites of his sandwich. You tapped your nails against the table.

"Jack."

"Hmm?" His eyes didn’t lift from his phone.

"Can you put that down?"

He sighed but set the phone face down. "Okay."

You wanted to ask if he even wanted you here. You wanted to ask why he wasn’t looking at you like he used to, why you felt like a ghost in his apartment. But you swallowed it all down and smiled when Jack forced another conversation about hockey that you could barely focus on.

That night, he sat at the edge of the bed, scrolling on his phone again while you sat behind him. You reached out, resting a hand on his back. He tensed.

"Are you okay?" you asked.

"Yeah," he said quickly.

"You don’t seem like it."

"I’m fine, okay?" His tone was sharp. He stood up and walked toward the bathroom without looking back.

You stared at the empty space he left behind.

DAY FOUR

You woke up before Jack.  

He was lying on his stomach, face half-buried in the pillow, hair sticking up in every direction. You watched him for a moment, chest rising and falling steadily. He looked peaceful like this like the Jack you used to know. The Jack who used to roll over and pull you into his arms the second he woke up.  

You shifted closer, brushing your hand over his back. His skin was warm under your fingertips. He stirred, groaning softly into the pillow.  

"Morning," you whispered.  

Jack’s eyes fluttered open. He blinked at you sleepily, then rubbed a hand over his face. "Morning."  

You smiled, leaning down to press a kiss to his bare shoulder. He didn’t react. Just sat up and ran a hand through his hair.  

"What time is it?"  

"Almost nine."  

Jack nodded, already swinging his legs over the side of the bed. "I should get going soon."  

"Going where?I thought you had today off"  

Jack stood, stretching. "I do, I'm just going to go workout with some of the guys."  

"Oh." You sat up, the sheets pooling around your waist. "Can I come?"  

Jack paused, looking at you over his shoulder. "I mean it’s just going to be boring."  

"I don’t care."  

Jack hesitated. "I think we’re just gonna grab lunch after. Probably end up hanging out at Nico’s."  

You bit the inside of your cheek. "So you don’t want me there?"  

Jack’s gaze darted to the floor. "It’s not that."  

"Then what is it?"  

Jack sighed. "I don’t know. Just feels like a guys' thing, you know?"  

You swallowed. "Right."  

Jack’s phone buzzed on the nightstand. He grabbed it, checking the screen. A faint smile tugged at his mouth.  

"Who is it?" you asked.  

“Nico," Jack said, texting back quickly. He tossed his phone onto the bed, already moving toward the bathroom.  

You sat there for a moment, heart sinking.  

"I’ll be back later," Jack called over his shoulder.  

"Cool," you murmured. But Jack had already closed the door behind him.  

You sat there for a long time, listening to the shower running.  

When Jack got back that afternoon, you were curled up on the couch, knees pulled to your chest. He walked in, tossed his keys onto the counter, and sat down across from you. He scrolled through his phone without saying anything.  

You watched him for a moment.  

"How was it?" you asked.  

"Hmm?"  

"Your workout."  

Jack shrugged. "Good."  

"Anything else?"  

Jack didn’t look up. "Nope."  

Your jaw tightened.  

You shifted closer, resting a hand on his arm. "Jack."  

He tensed. "What?"  

You hated how sharp his voice sounded. Like you were annoying him.  

"Do you want to do something tonight?" you asked quietly.  

Jack sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. "I don’t know. I’m kind of tired."  

"Oh."  

Jack’s gaze flicked toward you. "What?"  

"Nothing," you said quickly, even though it wasn’t nothing.  

Jack’s phone buzzed again. He picked it up without hesitation. You sat there, heart sinking as he smiled at the screen. He didn’t even notice the way your hand fell away from his arm.  

And that’s when it hit you.  

You weren’t the person he wanted to talk to anymore.  

You weren’t the person who made him smile like that anymore.  

You took a breath, swallowing hard. "Jack."  

"Hmm?"  

You sat up straighter, heart hammering painfully against your ribs. "Do you even want me here?"  

Jack’s head jerked toward you, brows furrowing. "What kind of question is that?"  

"You’re barely looking at me." Your voice cracked. "You don’t talk to me. When you do, it feels like you’re trying to get through it so you can go back to your phone. Just say it if you don’t want me here."  

Jack’s jaw tightened. "Jesus, you’re making this a bigger deal than it is."  

"A bigger deal?" you echoed. Your voice sharpened. "Jack, I flew to new jersey to see you. I’m trying so hard to hold this together, but you’re not even meeting me halfway. If you don’t want this anymore, just"  

"I didn’t ask you to come."  

You froze.  

Jack’s eyes widened, but the words were already out there.  

Your heart hammered in your chest. "What?"  

"I didn’t ask you to come," he repeated, softer this time. His gaze fell to the floor. "You decided to."  

You blinked hard, your throat tightening painfully. "Wow."  

Jack ran a hand through his hair, exhaling hard. "I didn’t mean it like that"  

"You did."  

Jack’s mouth opened, but no words came out.  

You stood up, shaking. "I can't, I can't do this anymore."  

Jack’s head snapped toward you. "What does that mean?"  

"It means I’m done." Your voice broke, but you kept going. "I’m tired of feeling like I’m the only one fighting for this. If you’re not going to try, then why am I even here?"  

Jack’s eyes darkened. "So that’s it? You’re giving up?"  

You laughed bitterly. "You gave up first."  

Jack’s mouth twisted. "Right. So now it’s my fault?"  

"You know what?" you said, your breath shaking. "Yeah. It is."  

Jack stood up, his eyes hard now. "Fine. If you want to go, then go."  

"That’s it?" You took a step toward him, tears blurring your vision. "You’re not even going to try to stop me?"  

Jack’s eyes flashed. "What do you want me to say? That I miss you? That I love you? You already know that, but it’s not enough, is it?"  

"It’s not enough if you’re not going to show it!" you shot back. "You say you love me, but you act like I’m just here. Like I don’t matter."  

Jack’s expression darkened. "Yeah? Well, maybe you don’t."  

You sucked in a sharp breath.  

Jack’s face paled instantly. "I—"  

"No." You shook your head, tears spilling down your cheeks. "You said it. And you know what? Maybe you’re right."  

"Don’t twist this"  

"I’m not twisting anything! I’m done!" Your voice cracked, but you held your ground. "I’m not going to sit here and beg for you to care about me. I deserve better than that."  

Jack’s jaw flexed.  

Your breath hitched. You waited for him to take it back to tell you to stay. But Jack just stood there, eyes stormy, hands clenched into fists at his sides.  

You nodded slowly. "Okay."  

You grabbed your bag from the floor. Jack didn’t say anything as you walked toward the door. Your hand trembled as you opened it.  

You hesitated. Just for a second.  

"Bye, Jack," you whispered.  

Jack didn’t reply.  

You closed the door behind you.  

The flight home feels like a blur. You don’t cry at least not yet  but the numbness sets in as soon as the plane takes off. Jack didn’t text you before you boarded. He didn’t call. He didn’t say anything after the door shut behind you.   

You stare out the window, watching the clouds blur beneath you, but your chest feels hollow. Four years. Gone in a single weekend. Your friendship since you were 10 of growing up together, of loving each other through every awkward phase and milestone  shattered in one conversation.  

You scroll through your phone without really seeing it. His contact sits at the top of your recent messages, the last one marked as read. I’m sorry. He hasn’t sent anything since.   

And honestly, you don’t expect him to.  

Your phone vibrates, and for half a second your heart leaps. But it’s just your mom, checking in. You let the message sit unopened and slide your phone facedown on the tray table.  

When you get home, everything feels wrong. Your room looks the same, but it’s too quiet. No FaceTime calls from Jack lighting up your phone. No goodnight texts. No “Miss you” or “Wish you were here.” The absence is deafening.   

You lie in bed that night, scrolling through old pictures, ones from Vancouver, from Michigan, from all those summers at the lake house. Jack’s smile frozen in time. Your hand in his. Quinn and Luke in the background, laughing at something Jack had said.   

Your chest tightens.  

You think about how easy it used to be how you could sit in silence for hours and still feel connected. How you could tell what Jack was thinking just from a look. How his hand would instinctively find yours without either of you thinking about it.   

But somewhere along the way, you both stopped reaching for each other. Mostly him. 

Your phone buzzes again. This time, it’s Quinn.  

“You okay?” 

Your thumbs hover over the keyboard, but you don’t know how to answer that.

“Yeah. Just tired.”  

Quinn’s reply comes quickly. “Jack didn’t mean it.”   

Your breath catches. A hollow feeling sinks deeper into your chest.   

You don’t answer.  

Because the worst part is maybe he did.

[imnotshua]

progress report: i am missing you to death - jww

٠࣪⭑ pairing: jeon wonwoo x fem reader ٠࣪⭑ summary: it's 2006 - you and wonwoo are better off as lovers ٠࣪⭑ genre: childhood friends to lovers, smut, fluff, angst, college au ٠࣪⭑ rating: explicit. minors do not interact with me, i'll block you. ٠࣪⭑ warnings: swearing, drinking, undefined relationships, mutual pining. idiots in love. my babies are flawed and that's okay because so are real people. reader and wonwoo are just stupid regular people who say and do stupid regular things, it is intentional, please love them anyway. they are both down bad. occasional use of pet names (baby & pretty), no use of y/n or other variations, plot and smut, mention of historical bullying, but nothing graphic or extreme. ٠࣪⭑ smut contents: gendered terms, kisses (lots), fingering (pussy + mouths), oral (f & m receiving), no condoms but reader is on BC, sloppy, soooo much hand holding, sex!!!!!, hickeys, neediness <333333, all in all they are quite soft and disgustingly into each other. if you think i've forgotten anything please let me know so i can fix my post! ٠࣪⭑ wc: 17.7k - complete ٠࣪⭑ a/n: this work is the main instalment from my series sorry every song's about you. it’s complete on its own and can be read without the others. there’s a prequel already posted, it’ll be linked at the end and can be found on the series masterlist linked above. you choose the order you want to read them in. future fics for this couple will be non-linear and feature different stages of their lives. the title comes from Fall Out Boy’s I slept with someone in Fall Out Boy and all I got was this stupid song written about me. I have a playlist linked on the series masterlist if you happen to be into that. ٠࣪⭑ thank yous: to my loves, @100vern and @starlightkyeom– thank you for reading this in fragments, over and over again until i got it right. jewel again, thank you for the banner. i appreciate and love you both beyond belief. to @c-oupsie thank you for catching my errors and shouting at me about these two idiots in my dms, i love yelling, i appreciate you. to @daechwitatamic thank you for encouraging me, i appreciate you and your shouting too! to everyone who reads, thank you for coming to my little corner, i hope you enjoy this one.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

January 2006

Wonwoo got the last choice for film night. He’d put on some period drama to make up for the torture he put you through earlier (another horror movie), one that’ll make you cry very soon probably, and sets the re-filled popcorn bowl between your legs. You pass him a bottle that he opens with his teeth, because for some reason you always forget to bring an opener from the kitchen, and once you’re tucked up in the blanket, with his thigh pressed against the side of yours, it feels too wrong to move. 

It’s routine. It’s good. It’s been this way since school. Every Tuesday is reserved for taking up each other's space. Tuesday– because who else makes plans on Tuesdays? Watching movie after movie in his apartment until it gets too late to go home, and you sleep here. Can’t get interrupted on a Tuesday. (The only time you press pause is when either of you are dating someone, the last was Siyeon several months ago. You liked her, but Wonwoo never really talked about why he ended it.) You have a half hearted fight over who takes the sofa, but you always win out in the end. Wonwoo brings you pillows and pyjamas that smell like his laundry powder. It’s fine. It’s nice. 

The problem is that lately your feelings have been running away with themselves again. You’re not sure how it started anew, or if they ever even fully went away, but the affection you have for him swirls, neglected and nameless, in your stomach. All Wonwoo has to do is smile in your direction and you melt. Made worse tenfold every time he holds your hand. It’s not often. Just when a particularly horrible scene comes on, and your spine goes rigid and you hold your breath, he’ll reach over, wrap his fingers around yours and use his thumb to work the tension out of your knuckles. He’s so good like this. You’ll take all the horror movies he wants for these soft moments, even though they make everything worse. He’s your best friend, and you’ve tried this two too many times. You never properly talked about the last time, the second time, four years ago.

(It’s like these feelings come in cycles.)

The end began with a sickness bug that stretched several days, and ended with a clipped voicemail, Wonwoo’s quiet contemplation obvious through the tinny sound of the recording, saying he wants to just be friends, saying he didn’t want to ruin what you have. That he cares about you so deeply that your friendship needs preserving over everything else. Yes, it hurt. God– it hurts. But you’d rather have him in your life in these half measures, than not at all. 

His hand is on his leg now. You could touch but you won’t. What’s happening on screen isn’t the right kind of scary for holding Wonwoo’s hand. Just Laurie telling Jo he loves her, and Jo telling him she doesn’t. Not in that way. You sink onto your side, hardly watching the screen through fuzzy eyes. Wonwoo chuckles softly as he looks over. 

“Are you crying?”

“No–” you say, voice thick.

“Oh you are,” he says, leaning over to stroke your hair. 

“Don’t touch me right now, Wonwoo,” you warn. “I’ll bite you.”

“Freak.” He laughs and pulls his hand back. “Shit–”

“What?”

It’s obvious what. Wonwoo has knocked over the mostly-full bottle that was tucked between you, and it’s soaking into the seat. 

You jump up to grab some paper towels from the kitchen, and when you come back Wonwoo is stripping the covers from the cushions. “Fuck, it’s soaked. I’m so sorry.” 

“What are you sorry for?” you ask, patting the excess liquid from the cushions. ‘It’s your sofa.”

“Yeah but it’s your bed.”

“Who says I was even gonna stay?” you joke.

“Ha ha,” he deadpans. 

“Don’t worry about it, I’ll call a taxi.”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes. “It’s one AM, you’re not going home now.” 

You laugh. “And where, pray tell, am I going to sleep?”

“My room,” he says, without any idea how the thought of that has been floating through your mind for weeks. You haven’t slept in there since– since– “Hansol’s on the night shift, I’ll take his.”

You chew on the fat of your cheek. “Okay, sure. That works.”

There’s a knock at the half open door an hour later. “I’m so sorry,” Wonwoo whispers. “I can’t sleep.”

“Does it smell again?”

“It’s like something died in there. And there’s crumbs in the bed.”

Okay. Okay. It’s fine.

Wonwoo slips into the bed next to you, pulls the sheets right up to his shoulders even though he must be boiling in those pyjamas. Maybe he’s feeling strange about this, too. You turn on your side to find him watching your face already, cautious eyes and words unsaid on his lips. 

“Is this okay?” you ask. “Is this too weird?”

“Not weird,” he says. A pause. “A little weird. It’s been a while.” He reaches for your hand and you let him take it. Dummy.

“Do you think Jo and Laurie should’ve ended up together?” Wonwoo asks, after a minute. 

“She didn’t love him.”

“Wouldn’t it have been a better story if she had?”

“Maybe, but it wouldn’t have been them then, right? Jo and Laurie in love would’ve been different people entirely.”

Here he is, fingers entwined with yours and much too close. Here you are, four years older and not at all wiser. You are Laurie, pathetic and yearning, and Wonwoo doesn’t seem to get that he’s Jo, and that sometimes his tenderness makes you ache. 

“Goodnight, best friend,” he says.

Some things shouldn’t change even when they do. 

“Goodnight, best friend,” you say. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Hansol opens the bedroom door at just past six AM. He clocks the bed, the lump under the sheets, the just visible hair, face hidden by Wonwoo’s shoulder. He locks eyes with Wonwoo, who has been laid wide awake for the better part of an hour, trying not to move lest he wakes you too, and mouths Who’s that?

Wonwoo mouths back your name, and Hansol’s jaw hangs open. He makes a crude gesture with his hands, and raises curious eyebrows. Wonwoo gives him the finger. 

A little later, while you’re attempting to rush out the door for a seminar, Hansol is shovelling cereal in his mouth, and Wonwoo is sitting at the table with a coffee. Hansol asks around a mouthful of Frosties– “so, are you two fucking again?”

“What? No.”

Hansol swallows loudly, frowning confused. “What’s the wet patch on the couch?”

“Ew– it’s beer, you weirdo.” You’re staring at Hansol in disbelief. “Even if we were hooking up I don’t fuck on shared furniture.”

Wonwoo suppresses a choke on his coffee. You throw him a pointed look, lips twisting with the effort of trying not to laugh.

(You and he did, once, on the aforementioned sofa.)

“Why did you sleep in his–” Hansol gestures with an accusing spoon at Wonwoo. “–bed, then?”

“Because it smells like a skunk shat in your room, Hansol, maybe you should wash your arsehole once in a while.”

“I’m squeaky clean, buddy.”

“I doubt that, pal.”

Hansol laughs. He’s loving this. “You need to get laid so badly, shall I help find someone big and strong to pull that gigantic stick out your a–”

“Oh my God, please shut up,” Wonwoo interrupts. “It’s so weird you two are related, who talks with their cousins like this?”

“Second cousins,” you and Hansol correct in unison.

“Just to clarify– you’re not together again?”

You roll your eyes so hard all Wonwoo can see is white. “We weren’t ever together,” you say, exasperated. “We’ve been over this before.”

Wonwoo rubs his eyes under his glasses. “You’re going to be late,” he says to you.

You look at your watch. “Shit– bye best friend, call me tomorrow. Smell you later, Hansol.”

You’re already halfway out the door, and Hansol is calling after you, “Gonna find you a boyfriend! That’s a warning!” 

When the door clicks closed, Hansol turns on Wonwoo. “You’re donezo, I guess?”

Wonwoo sips his coffee. “Never started-zo.”

That sounded less stupid in his head.

Grinning wide, Hansol says, “You won’t mind if I introduce her to Minghao, then?”

Wonwoo presses his forehead against the table and tries to consider how much Hansol’s parents would miss him if he were to flush their son down the toilet. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

February 2006

Wonwoo hovers his cursor over the Submit button. He hesitates. Could remove one of the options, the long shot, and replace it with something more achievable. He’s not going to get it, and if he did he’s under no obligation to take it. It’s more for his ego than anything else, he tells himself. But Professor Lee had insisted he throw his hat in the ring, so he does, and tries not to panic over having made a horrible error of judgement once he clicks submit, because now it’s too late– it’s in the ether. 

You turn over in your sleep, uncomfy in the ball you’d tucked yourself into before drifting off, and your leg unfurls over him, seeking warmth and closeness. Wonwoo sets his laptop on the nightstand, and shifts down carefully next to you. It’s nights like these that Wonwoo is convinced that his life isn’t really real. Because isn’t it some funny joke that you’re here next to him like this, and you’re both still worlds apart. Touches are considered and well-mannered, despite how they used to be. But here you are in your ridiculous Pompompurin pyjamas and he wonders if you ever think about the last time you wore these with him. Probably not. It wouldn’t be considered memorable to anyone else, he thinks. Just a late breakfast in bed, that turned into non-stop talking, that turned silly, peppered kisses into lazy, deepened ones, forgoing lunch in favour of laying together, just close, in ways not completely unlike you are now. In some parallel universe, in some other life, this could still be happening in the way it was meant to. 

Wonwoo considers how well he really knows you now, if it’s less than before, if your favourite colour is still the same as it was when you were children together. There are some questions you don’t think to ask your best friend of twenty years, because it’s expected you’ll already know. Unfortunately, Wonwoo knows nothing of the things inside your head, and someday you’ll find out. Tomorrow he’s going to ask what your favourite colour is, and hopefully that someday won’t be anytime soon. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Wonwoo surprises you when he picks up the phone on a Friday evening. 

“Oh– hello. I was preparing to leave you a message. Aren’t you playing WoW?”

“Runescape,” he says. “Just getting snacks. What’s up?”

“Mum called, said I’ve got a letter there about our class reunion next month, the eighteenth.”

“Ah yeah, Jihoon mentioned that it was coming up.”

“You wanna go? I could rent a car.”

“Oh so you’re volunteering me as the driver?” You can hear Wonwoo’s smile through the phone. “When are you planning on getting your licence?”

You pout, even though he can’t see you. “Come onnn, won’t it be fun? I promise I’ll be good company.”

Wonwoo laughs. “How good?”

“I’ll bring the snacks.”

“Uh huh–”

“And I’ll burn three new CDs.”

“Four.”

“And I’ll burn four new CDs.”

“Okay, getting closer.”

“And, uh– honestly that's all I had.” You wrack your brain and come up with nothing of substance. “I’ll uh– I’ll hype you up in front of that girl you had a crush on. Whatsername? The cheerleader. God, it’s on the tip of my tongue–”

“Who are you talking about?”

“The girl– that girl you liked once. The one with the hair–”

“I genuinely have no idea who you mean.” He does sound confused, actually. 

“Damn,” you say. “That’s all my bargaining chips.”

“Damn,” he echoes, with a click of his tongue. “Guess you’ll have to take me to dinner if you can’t remember who my mystery girl is.”

“So you’ll drive us?”

“Rent the car.”

“Thanks dear, you’re a real friend,” you sing-song. “Love you, see y–”

“Wait,” he says. “Wanna come over and play Mario Kart?

“Right now?”

“Yeah, you can stay the weekend. If you want.”

There was a phrase Wonwoo’s dad always used to use for the pair of you. Birds of a feather flock together. You’re flocking so often you hardly have to think about it. Just comes naturally. Nothing else is going on, and a weekend playing games and eating out of Wonwoo’s fridge instead of your own is a decent offering. Maybe he’ll have rented that film he talked about last week. The Descent? You’ll tolerate it, if he’ll squeeze your hand through the awful parts. 

“Sure, okay. I’ll pack a bag.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

March 2006

The last weeks of winter feel too long, but today there is a breath of warmth in the air and it feels good good good. March is always the best time of year for dreaming, you think. Feels especially good when you’re watching 28 Days Later, and Wonwoo holds your hand through the whole thing. It’s not even as scary as the others he’s had you sit through, but holding his hand feels nice. Every Tuesday since Little Women has ended in his bed. Feels like old times, without any of the touching and all of the one sided angst. 

When it’s your turn, Wonwoo groans at the sight of the Sense and Sensibility box, but it’s gently done.

“You cannot complain when we’ve been watching horror every week lately,” you admonish, pointing at him with one of your fries. He bites at it and you throw the remaining half at his face. “You know I hate them.” 

Wonwoo grins. “You should complain more, then.”

You hum your agreement. “Well it’s because I’m so selfless that I don’t, you see.”

“Sure, sure,” Wonwoo laughs. His laugh is so lovely. “That’s why you’re taking up my entire bed every Tuesday night.” 

You scoff. “I sleep very mindfully, actually. I even curl into a little ball so your giraffe legs have enough space.” 

“Is that so?” Wonwoo tugs at the material of your (his) pyjama bottoms. “Then explain why I’ve woken up with your legs draped over me every time?”

You blink. Can feel the heat on your ears. Thank God it’s dark. “Oh, sorry. I didn’t realise.”

A pause. 

“I don’t mind,” he says. Quiet. Suddenly too serious. You can’t look at him. “You’ve always slept like that.” 

“Movie’s starting,” you say. And that’s that. 

Later, Wonwoo squeezes in beside you in his tiny bathroom to brush his teeth. He bumps his hip into your side, smiles at you in the mirror, and it feels so horribly domestic you might actually throw up. It doesn’t make sense what you’re doing. 

When you finish brushing your teeth you look down the hallway to the sofa, think briefly about taking it, but Wonwoo steps out behind you, tugs on your sleeve and asks if you’re coming to bed. There’s toothpaste on the corner of his lip. This time four years ago you would’ve wiped it away. Now you just tap at the corner of your own, say got something there and let Wonwoo sort himself out. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It’s a rare Tuesday that Hansol is home. He takes Wonwoo’s usual spot next to you, showing you pictures of some guy on his laptop while Wonwoo is fetching drinks and snacks from the kitchen, and when he comes back in the room he blinks, surprised that he’s been relegated to the armchair. He leans over the arm of the sofa to peer at the Myspace profile loaded on Hansol’s screen. 

“What’s going on?” he asks.

“Hansol here is trying to get me a date.”

“Am not,” Hansol rebuts. “Though if I were, is he the sort of guy you’d be interested in?”

“Uh–”

Wonwoo’s sharp laugh sounds like a bark. “No, Soonyoung is not her type.”

You swat at him. “What would you know about my type? None of my exes have been remotely similar. He’s hot.”

“Sure, but he’s not for you,” Wonwoo insists. “He’s not serious about anything–”

Hansol sighs, dejected. “We’re never gonna get him laid–“

You stare at the screen. “And apparently he’s a virgin–”

“Don’t shame him,” Hansol says flatly.

“I’m not! It’s just surprising, that’s all!”

“Okay, fine, what about this guy–” He’s already closing off his profile and loading another. It’s all grunge and dark compared to the neon green garishness of the previous. He’s tall, long dark hair, painted nails. That’s all you get to see before Wonwoo is snapping the laptop closed. 

“I’m putting on the movie now, guests choice first.”

“Who pissed in your cereal?” asks Hansol.

Wonwoo doesn’t answer. Just flops into the chair opposite, jaw tight, eyes burning holes into the title screen on the TV.

Pride and Prejudice begins, and no less than five minutes in, Hansol sags against the back of the sofa. “Borrrrring. Can we watch Shrek instead?”

Wonwoo glances at you, and you shrug. Hansol takes that as a yes, and disappears off to his room to dig out the DVD from underneath the mess. 

“We can watch it another time,” Wonwoo offers. But you don’t care about that. You’re wondering if Wonwoo is keeping his secrets again. If Hansol knew much about your past, more than the hooking up, more to do with the depth of the feelings you once had for each other, would he be trying to set you up with his and Wonwoo’s friends, right in front of him?

Later, you lay in Wonwoo’s bed and ask why he isn’t dating anyone. He’s on the verge of sleep, can hear it with how low his voice is, how soft. 

“Don’t wanna,” he hums, eyes closed. “M’happy as I am.”

Ah.

“Why aren’t you?”

“Aren’t I what?”

“Dating someone.”

“Well I’ve got terribly high standards, you see.”

Wonwoo laughs, grins lazy and sweet. “Not high enough. All your partners have been awful.”

“Not all of them,” you argue.

“Name one.” His big brown eyes open just enough for him to level you with them.

You could say anything. Anything. You could say what you really mean, and it could be okay. It could not, too. 

“Remember Park Sungkyu? He was pretty great.”

Wonwoo tickles your middle, and you yelp, swatting at him and suppressing a giggle. “Boys from when we were six don’t count.”

“He gave me a crown for my birthdayyy!” you sing-song. “He called me his Princess.” Wonwoo tickles you again and you jolt.

“Okay, okay, you’re right! I have terrible taste! Now stop torturing me, you freak.”

“Whatever Her Majesty desires.” 

You kick him in the shin in exaggerated outrage but all Wonwoo does is smile wide, grossly pleased with himself. He’s beautiful like this.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It’s the weekend and you’re watching Pride and Prejudice from Wonwoo’s bed. Hansol has taken over the living room with a group of friends, and their yelling is so loud it feels like they’re right outside the door. It’s the final game for something or other, you didn’t really listen. It’s unseasonably warm, and though the window is thrust open the air hangs still and heavy in this room. You’re laid shoulder to shoulder, arm to arm, sheets pushed down to your feet. Occasionally, his thigh brushes yours and it’s nice. His hand twists, palm up, and his thumb strokes your wrist. You like how it feels deliberate. 

It gets to the part where Elizabeth turns down Mr Darcy’s proposal and Wonwoo sniffs. You near snap your neck to look at him. “Are you crying?”

“No.”

“You are. Your eyes are all watery.”

He gestures at the screen. “This is fucked up. They could just talk to each other.”

You shrug, turning back to the screen. Elizabeth finishes up her speech, Mr Darcy looks at her lips, they lean in and hold back. The desperation in his voice, his breathy please, has your chest knotted tight and uncomfortable. “Without a little miscommunication there wouldn’t be any story at all,” you say. 

“Love doesn’t need to be a story,” says Wonwoo, flat. “It could just be.”

“But then we wouldn’t have films, my dearest friend. And all this yearning makes me feel alive.”

Wonwoo knocks his foot against yours, and you nudge him back. More cheers from down the hall. 

“I hate yearning. Makes me feel sick.”

You laugh then, rolling onto your side and looking over at him. Your heart is thumping so loud he can surely hear it. Don’t say it. Don’t push. “What have you ever yearned for?” 

Fuck. What a stupid thing to say.

He doesn’t look at you. Rolls his bottom lip between his teeth and clams up. “Nothing. Nevermind.” And there it is. He’ll touch on his terms and won’t give the feeling a name. He pushes up from the bed. “Want ice cream?”

“No,” you grumble, slipping down flat on the bed and stretching out your arms, eyes fluttering shut to tuck up the feeling in them. “Wanna sleep. This weather makes me tired.”

“Let's sleep then,” he says. “We can finish the rest in the morning.” He shuts off his laptop and makes to take off his t-shirt, but stops, clearly thinking better of it. 

You poke his arm. “I don’t mind if you want to sleep without it. It’s boiling.” 

“You sure?” he asks.

“Yeah. Nothing I haven’t seen before anyway.” 

His shoulders go all stiff for a second. Stupid.

“Aren’t you warm too?”

Yes. The sweat is starting to make your shirt stick to your skin. “No, I’m okay.”

Wonwoo shrugs off his clothes, tosses them to the chair (keeps his underwear on even though he usually wouldn’t, as some attempt at consideration for the blockades between you ever since– since before) and lays down. Your eyes meet in the half-dark for a moment, and there is something unwritten in his expression. The backs of your hands brush, and it’s still not the right kind of scary to make this touch okay. You can feel the warmth beaming out of him, and you almost tell him how lovely he looks with his skin all flushed and shiny like this. But then he turns his back on you, whispers goodnight, best friend to the wall, and you hold your breath for a moment, while you sink into the depths of your wanting. 

You can’t be the one to bring up the possibility of you, together, again. It’s too humiliating. You should let this go. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Thanks to traffic the drive takes longer than expected. It doesn’t matter. Despite burning six CDs, and stealing four from Hansol’s collection, Wonwoo has you play From Under the Cork Tree twice in the first half of the drive. For the first two hours you talk non-stop, the next is taken up speculating on and placing bets on the lives of the classmates you haven’t already reconnected with on Facebook. You spend the fourth half-snoozing, while Wonwoo hums along to Snow Patrol. He’s gently singing the wrong lyrics to Set Fire to the Third Bar, when Jihoon calls your mobile. 

“Hi Jihoon,” you murmur, and then holding up the phone to Wonwoo’s ear– “Say hi.”

“Hi Jihoon,” says Wonwoo obediently. “We’re still two hours away– shitty traffic.” 

You take the phone back, and say, “Are we meeting you there tonight or do you guys wanna come pregame with us and Wonwoo’s parents?”

Jihoon laughs. “How much pregaming are we talking?”

“I need at least two drinks before I set foot in the same room as Choi Hwangyu.”

“Haven’t you let that whole mortal enemies thing go yet?”

“Never,” you assert, crossing your heart. Wonwoo laughs. “It’s a mutual hatred that will last for all eternity.”

“You know– ‘all eternity’ is a redundant phr–”

“Oh my Godddd.”

You settle on the plan for the evening quickly. You and Wonwoo will have dinner with his parents, change into something that smells less like rental car and chilli Doritos, and Jihoon and Iseul will meet you at the pub before heading to the venue near your old school. 

You flip the phone to end the call, and Wonwoo reaches over to squeeze your knee. 

“You gonna be okay? Seeing him?”

It started off as just a bunch of guys being dickheads, nothing too worthy of note. Hwangyu took it further. Snapping your bra strap in the middle of class, spilling drinks over your shirt in front of the entire lunch hall, spreading baseless rumours about boys you’d supposedly hooked up with. Once he started telling people you blew him in the chemistry lab during lunch break, Wonwoo and Jihoon stopped taking notice of your asking them to not intervene and “had words” after school. Wonwoo didn’t walk you home that day– had his friend from the year below, Mingyu, walk you instead. Jihoon told you not to ask so you never did, but just like that Hwangyu stopped giving you grief. Even back then you hated the fact that it took other guys to get him to leave you alone. Patriarchy rules even at the turn of the twenty-first century. How gross.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. I looked him up a few days ago. Guess what?”

“He’s divorced?”

“Divorced thrice.”

Wonwoo laughs. “We’re twenty-six, how does someone find the time to get married to and divorced from three different people?”

“We could’ve been married already had we not spent eight years fucking around at university.” You’re laughing until you notice Wonwoo’s eyebrows pinch in the middle, a weird lopsided smile on his face, and you realise what you just said. You cough. “Not we. You know what I mean. My question was more how did he find three separate people who want to fuck him?”

“Urgh, I’d rather not have that visual, thanks.”

Snow Patrol wraps up, and you dig out the CD case from under your feet. “Okay, what next? Arctic Monkeys or My Chemical Romance?”

“Can we have Fall Out Boy again?”

“Oh my G–”

“I really liked that fifth one.” 

You fiddle taking Snow Patrol out the player and popping Fall Out Boy back in, trying not to scratch their bottoms. 

“Nobody Puts Baby in the Corner? Yeah, it’s my second favourite.”

“What’s your first?” asks Wonwoo.

“XO, the last one.” You tip your head back against the headrest, close your eyes, listen to Wonwoo sing, and wonder if it’s him or the music that makes your heart beat faster. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It’s fun, really. Catching up with all these people you haven’t seen in eight years, and Jihoon and Iseul, who you last saw seven months ago, and Wonwoo, who you see all the time. After your first rounds, the four of you huddle at the table on the furthest edge of the room, Iseul tells you about how her job is having her relocate to your city, and could you show her around (you will—of course you will. The idea of your old friend being there in your home makes you giddy, and Wonwoo laughs when you clap your hands in excitement.), Jihoon tells you all about his latest projects, and you and Wonwoo catch them both up on your studies. Eventually the group breaks off, Wonwoo to the bathroom, Jihoon to the bar, and Iseul spots another friend across the room, and darts off with a promise to be right back. 

You take the moment of quiet to check your texts. Mingyu and Seokmin have heard you’re in town, they want to hang out tomorrow. Your mother wants to know if you’re staying the night with her or your father (neither, you’re staying with Wonwoo’s parents, who were far more glad to see you than your own parents would be), and Wonwoo, who has messaged from the bathroom.

Wonwoo: You’re taking me for dinner after this btw.

You: Wash your hands before texting me, you pig!

There’s a clearing of a throat behind you, and you turn, half expecting Wonwoo there saying something smart in reply, but it’s not. 

“Oh. Hello.”

Your voice is anything but friendly. It seems Hwangyu still has the same unwarranted self-assuredness that pissed you off back then, because once addressed, he settles himself into the chair just vacated by Iseul and leans into your space.

You lean back. “Can I help you?”

“Did you come with Jihoon?’

You blink stupidly. He must not recognise you.

“No.”

He smirks, lazy, out the side of his mouth. 

“Good,” he says, slow. “Can’t stand that guy.” Your eyebrows raise in surprise. “You’ve grown into your looks, haven’t you? Nice dress.”

There goes that hopeful theory of him not recognising you, but what in the God awful fuck is happening? Is he trying to pick you up? No apology, not even a pleasantry to speak of, just headfirst into some backhanded compliment and a sleazy smile. These men should only exist as fictional villains, not out in the real world. 

You’re trying to gather your words. The planned retorts in your head don’t work in a situation where this is the angle he’s taking. Shit. 

“I looked you up,” he says, not looking at you. Eyes darting, nervous almost, across the room. You spot his usual friend group, they’re all looking over like hyenas. “A few weeks ago.”

“Why would you do that?”

“Wanted to see if you were single. I always liked you, you know.”

The sound of your laugh takes you by surprise. Comes out more like a bark. “You had a funny way of showing it.”

He doesn’t have the good grace to look contrite. Instead he drums his chewed up fingers on his knee, and says, “Got your attention, though.”

There is stale air around him, hair already peppered at the sides. He looks older than his years, and affected. The hate isn’t eternal, because you just feel something like pity for him. Not so much that you’d forgive the way he treated you, but enough to let it go. Enough to be able to sit here and think that at least you remained kind, and three separate women divorced him before he got within touching distance of thirty. What a sad little life.

“Are you still Jeon Wonwoo’s girl?”

You roll your eyes. About to say no, the truth, because not wanting him has absolutely nothing to do with Wonwoo, and he should know that– but a hand on your shoulder stills you. “Yeah, she is,” says Jihoon, from behind you. “Isn’t that right?”

“Yeah. I am,” you echo, because you’re not going to let Hwangyu call your friend a liar. 

Much too slowly, Hwangyu makes his exit. Exchanges stiff pleasantries with Jihoon, and tries with Iseul who doesn’t return them (she’s a wonderful friend), and slips away to his old friends across the hall. You watch– they clap him on the shoulder, jeer at him, make faces like a twelve year old would. Some friends.

Jihoon and Iseul sit back down in their respective seats. Exchange a look, and you heave a frustrated sigh, just before Wonwoo returns from the bathroom. His eyes flick between you, catching the smell of the tension, and sinks slowly into his seat next to yours.

“What did I miss?”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Mingyu and Seokmin are playing pool, badly. You can hear their yelling from all the way over here. Someone has started playing Boyz II Men on the jukebox. Jihoon is drunk, sings along to the words. His voice has always been pretty. Iseul joins in, and hers is less so, but it’s so fun to watch them together. 

‘I know the colour of love

And it lives inside of you

I know the colour of truth

It's in the image of you’

They’re another set of friends who could have been, but didn’t. It’s a shame they could never figure it out. You and Wonwoo clink your bottles together, take a sip, and Wonwoo lets you lean against him. His arm rests on the bench behind your back, his hand on your shoulder. He’s a little drunk, as are you, and it’s nice to be home and in all your old haunts.

You rest the back of your head in the crook of his neck, and ask him what he thinks the colour of love is. 

Wonwoo hums in thought, runs his thumb along the length of your shoulder blade. “I don’t know, I’ll need to think about it. What do you think it is?”

“It’s pink.”

“Why?”

Blush pink, soft, and subtle, and sweet. The colour of his cheeks when he’s shy. The colour of the soft sweater he wore one time, while you were walking along the river and he was happy and goofy and lovely, swinging your clasped hands high in the sky. The colour of the flowers he buys for your birthday, the same kind (your favourite) every year without fail. His corsage on prom night. The fuzzy feeling you get in your stomach when he laughs is pink. Painted clouds at sunset, lovehearts, strawberries, the Milky Way, cherry blossoms. Pink is the colour of hopeless romantics, and the colour of the Wonwoo shaped hole in your heart. 

He taps you, gentle. “Get distracted?” he asks. You nod. “Drunk?” 

“Getting there.”

“Why pink?”

It’s too much to say. “Valentines Day. Duh.”

Britney Spears comes on the jukebox. Iseul squeals loud and drags you up to dance. Wonwoo watches you, his smile beaming, and you can hardly look at him. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Later, when Wonwoo lays in bed (the air mattress on the floor of his childhood bedroom), he’s still mulling over your question. Your arm is hanging over the edge of his old bed, fingers close enough to touch. He doesn’t. You’d fallen fast asleep as soon as your head hit the pillow. 

Wonwoo thinks about when you were children. Digging in the grass, plucking leaves from trees (Biggest one wins! Wins what? I dunno, a promise?), the first shoots of the tulips you and he planted in your grandfather's garden. He’s had so many shared firsts with you. There was no obligation, no forced time spent, just two kids who chose the comfort of one another over everyone else. It’s really something that you’ve still stuck like glue, all these years, as you’ve grown and reincarnated into several different people. Every time, you’ve chosen each other, even when it didn’t work. 

The colour of love is green. It’s in all those moments he felt most free. Like anything could happen. Like everything is fresh and new and an adventure to be had. It’s in the wig you wore for Halloween one year, and you made him laugh so hard he cried. It’s in the way you ground him when his heart is racing, when you drag him outside to stand in the park, make him kick off his shoes and socks and stand on the grass to feel the earth beneath his body. He always feels silly until it works. It’s in the bauble you painted for his parents when you were eight, tucked away for safekeeping in the attic, brought out every December to hang on the tree. It’s the colour of the blanket his mother knitted you years ago, that you still keep, spread out on top of your bed. His colour is in the dress you wore the very first time, and in another one, more sensible and grown, that you wore last night. His colour is all his moments with you. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

April 2006

“If I have to move to Busan you’ll come visit me, right?”

You purse your lips and hum loud for dramatic effect. Wonwoo throws a cushion at your face, and you laugh, swatting at him and missing by a mile. 

You’re laying down with your bare feet in his lap, while Wonwoo balances his laptop precariously on the arm of the sofa to check on his applications. The news trickles slowly, only a few people have heard back, so far. You’re almost done with your program, and Wonwoo is just about to start. People have called him a late bloomer before, but he just takes a little while to come around. Needs it to be a sure thing before he gets his head out of the sand. He’s starting to realise that in the grand scheme of things, it hardly matters. 

“Say yes.”

“I’ll have to get my drivers licence,” you say, thinking possibilities out loud. “But sure, I’ll get the train in the meantime.”

You push up and lean over him to peer at his screen, place your hand on his bicep for balance. Wonwoo tries not to think too much about it.

“Where else did you apply?” you ask, scanning the page.

Wonwoo lists off. “SNU, KNUH, PNU–” 

“Cambridge?” Your voice is small, and he hates it. “I didn’t know you still wanted to go.”

Wonwoo shrugs. He does. Cambridge had been a fantasy for a while, all his adult life and then some, and the research fellow for the Keros Project couldn’t be a better opportunity. Six months in Greece, five in England. But also he doesn’t. Both because you’re his constant, and this is new ground. What if he leaves? Even if it’s just Busan– if he leaves this city, would you still be birds?

He won’t get in.

“I won’t get in.”

“But you applied?”

“Professor Lee insisted,” Wonwoo laughs, embarrassed and already sick of hearing himself talk about it. “He said he’d kill me if I didn’t try. Seriously though, they only take a few applicants. It’s not going to be me. It’ll be Busan for me, most likely.”

You’re quiet for a moment, hand still on him like you’ve forgotten all about it. 

“Cambridge would be stupid if they didn’t take you,” you say, smiling tiny and false. “Not sure how often I could visit though.”

Wonwoo’s skin feels all hot. Would crawl out of it, if he could. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Hansol’s friend, Minghao (the one from Myspace) is in the arts. It suits him. He talks at length about his various projects– painting, interpretive dance, a four man performance he’s directed that will soon be playing at some hole in the wall venue (that he asks if you’d like to see. You would.) and it’s nice to be around someone that shows their interest in you so clearly. He asks about your studies and seems genuinely interested when you talk about the impact candlelight vigils have on policy making. How the government consistently underestimates its people. It’s a rare occurrence that a date takes interest in your work. Wonwoo talks with you about it all the time, of co– but that’s not– he’s not– 

It’s just different when it’s a date. 

He’s perfectly polite. Buys your coffee and holds the door. Walks on the road side of the footpath, even. Minghao would be easy for you to like. He’s funny, and thoughtful, and takes notice. He’s bold. He’s a welcome distraction. 

But Wonwoo is still there. 

He’s pressed into every crevice of your mind. He’s your past and present and only God knows if he’s in your future. Later, you call, but of course you get the answerphone– he did say yesterday that he’d be in the library all weekend. 

“Hey, Wonwoo, it’s me. Listen– will you come over when you hear this? Doesn’t matter what time. Use your key. Okay. Okay. Bye.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

It’s late when Wonwoo lets himself in. Heard your message just after two and walked straight out the door, rode his bike all the way here. 

The apartment looks like it always does. He’s hardly spent much time here in recent years, save for the occasional lingering in the living room before heading out somewhere neutral. Doesn’t feel right being in your space anymore, not after how it all ended last time, with water brash in his mouth. He still thinks about that. It’s why movie night is only ever at his place. So when you called and asked him to be here, to use his key, he knew something was awry. 

Seoyoung, your new-ish roommate, is in the living room, sitting on the ledge and blowing smoke out the window. She moved in about four months ago and you’ve quickly become good friends. She looks up at Wonwoo and waves, mouths she’s asleep and Wonwoo acknowledges with whispered “ah– thanks.”

Wonwoo knocks on your half open door, but you don’t stir, in too deep a sleep. You don’t notice the door clunk closed louder than Wonwoo intends. The mattress dips under his weight and still you don’t move. It’s only when he squeezes your hand that you blink the sleep from your eyes, puffy cheeks and always lovely. You stretch out like a cat, willing the fatigue away with a sigh that turns to a yawn, and Wonwoo feels immense guilt for having kept you waiting. More still for waking you up, but you wouldn’t have asked him to come if you didn’t want to talk right away. 

You pat the space next to you in silent invitation and Wonwoo hesitates. 

“I’m in my outdoor clothes.” 

“One of your t-shirts is in the bottom drawer,” you murmur, rubbing your eyes and pushing yourself up to rest your back against the headboard. 

Wonwoo changes in the bathroom. Washes his face and thinks about the last time he used your sink. The feelings haven’t changed, just bottled. Matured. He has a similar unease in every fibre of his body. Feels like static energy on his fingertips and he needs to rub it away. 

The silence stretches when he sinks down into the empty space of the bed. You draw patterns onto the sheets with a fingertip and stare down at the dimples you make. He wants to still your hand, to turn it over in his and ask why you called him over. Doesn’t, because you’re working up to it, can tell you’ve got tightness in your chest just by the sound of your breathing. You lean into him, sagging against his side and head tipped to rest on his shoulder. He has to stop himself pressing his lips to your crown. 

“I’m sorry I kept this,” you murmur, tugging at the hem of his t-shirt. “Wear it to sleep, sometimes.”

He remembers it wasn’t in the bag of things you’d handed him, a couple of weeks after he left you that message on your answerphone. He figured it’d just been mislaid, didn’t occur to him that you’d tucked it away for yourself.  

“I don’t mind.” Always looked better on you anyway. 

You loop your arm around his. 

“I went on a date today.”

Oh.

“Minghao?”

“Yeah.”

Wonwoo nods. He could see that working. You’ve always wanted something romantic. Someone who could have nineteenth century novels written about them. Minghao seems like that type.

“He’s asked me out again.”

“Okay.”

Wonwoo doesn’t know what to say, feels like he knows where this is headed because you’ve both dated people since last time. It’s never had to be a conversation though. Movie nights become strictly group activities, any day of the week is fine. It’s okay. It’s out of respect, or whatever. 

“Should I go?”

“It’s your room,” Wonwoo deadpans.

“On the date, idiot.”

He swallows. “I don’t know. Do you like him?”

You shrug. “I could.”

“Then why are you asking me?”

“Wonwoo–” 

“We don’t talk about stuff like this.”

“We need to,” you insist. “What are we doing?”

There it is. The question he’s been dreading. The question he hoped you wouldn’t ask because he doesn’t know how to explain it. Doesn’t know how to take the feelings in his chest and wrap them neatly into words. All he wanted to do was just let it happen, if it were to happen at all, on your terms. Except now you’re asking him to give it a name, and his throat goes dry. He’s doing it again. Despite how he’s tried letting you go, despite keeping a respectable distance, he’s still managing to slip his way back in like this. Lately, Wonwoo has been wondering if he’s a narcissist, since he doesn’t even realise he’s manipulating the situation until it’s too late, and you’re saying what he can’t. You’re so much braver than he is. It wasn’t until week five (six?) of holding your hand that he realised he was choosing horror movies deliberately so he’d have a reason to touch you. It got to the point when the background music would feature its first minor key of many, and your palm would turn outwards, just waiting for him to clasp it in his and hold you through the scene. He’s given you a Pavlovian response. Isn’t that completely fucked?

“Wonwoo,” you plead. His heart jolts. “I won’t wait for you forever.”

He tips his head back against the headboard, eyes closed because he can’t bear to look at you while he admits it.

“Isn’t it obvious?” he asks. “What I’ve been doing?”

“Nothing you do makes sense to me.”

The silence feels all thick and pliable.

Quietly, he confesses. “I don’t want you to date him. Anyone, really.”

Feels as though he’s sinking into syrup. Hard to move, hard to breathe. Hears your jagged inhale and steels himself for the ripping of the plaster. 

“What do you want, Wonwoo?” 

Wonwoo is a poorly knitted scarf. All slipped stitches and fast forming holes. One tug on a loose thread and he comes apart. 

“I want to be yours.”

He doesn’t expect your touch, let alone your kiss, gentle and loving on his shoulder. When he looks at you, your eyes are big and sad. 

“I don’t want to be your secret,” you whisper, in a tiny voice, against his t-shirt. 

This is his undoing. Wraps his fingers around your wrist and insists you’re not. You’ve never been that. It’s just– he wants to keep this private, not that he loves you, but how he shows it. Feels like it should be something sacred. You blink, startled, completely taken aback.

“You love me?”

“God. Yes,” he breathes. “Didn’t you know?”

“I thought you might– I didn’t know.” You’re crying. Silent tears spilling over, fingers plucking at a hangnail on your thumb and this is the worst. His heart aches. “You’re so quiet, how could I know anything for sure? How long?” 

“I–” He fucked up. Oh, he fucked up so badly. He rags his hands over his face, pushes his hair back while he searches for the right way to say it. “Too long.”

“After Siyeon?”

Wonwoo sighs. His thing with Siyeon wasn’t anything real. It started as a one time thing that stretched into semi-regular hook ups. She was in love with someone else, and he was pretending he wasn’t. The whole getting over someone by getting under someone else thing doesn’t work on a heartache as sour as his, and fuck anyone who said it would, actually. 

“Before?” 

“Before.”

You suck in a breath. “Oh.”

“Since we were kids, really,” he says. “Since before we ever–”

“Oh. That’s surprising.”

Wonwoo laughs ruefully. “Is it? I feel like I was plain as day. The guys at school used to tease me for it.”

“I hate this,” you say after a moment, voice thick and sad. You rub at your face. Push away the still falling tears. “It should feel nice, shouldn’t it? You saying you love me and I just feel sad about all the wasted years. And now it feels like I forced it out of you, before you were ready. I love you too, you know. Have all this time.”

Wonwoo feels too big for his body. Like he’s full of hot air and could float right out of the window high high higher until he burns up in the atmosphere. Even still, there is that small voice in the back of Wonwoo’s mind, telling him he’s self-centered for getting what he needs, that he’s cruel for making you feel like this, selfish for wanting you just for himself. Stupid, for having wasted time. The alarm goes off– he doesn’t deserve it, your kindness, your patience, your love. When it comes to you he is, and always has been, a coward. But you’re still here grounding him, head resting against him, arms still linked, and you’re making no moves to push him out the door. 

“How can I make it better?”

You sniff. “You can tell me again when I’ve stopped crying. You can stay.” 

“Can I hold you?” Like you’re his, he doesn’t say.

You chew on your bottom lip. “Yeah. Yes. I’d like that a lot.”

Wonwoo shifts down, turns on his side and lifts the duvet for you to move into the space in front of him. You take his glasses, fold them carefully and place them on your nightstand. You slot in next to him, back to his front, his body curls around yours and you press into him. He buries his face in the crook of your neck, and he starts to let himself hope it could be okay. 

“Have you stopped crying yet,” he asks softly, after a while. His hand is splayed across your cotton clad stomach, one finger toying with the hem. Yours is tracing figures of eight on his forearm. 

“Yes.”

“I love you.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

For a long time, you’ve imagined it would feel like fanfare. A marching band size confession if there were to ever be one. But that’s not who he is, and it’s not what you really want. It’s better like this. Whispered sweet things. His breath warming your skin. His fingers on the soft skin of your stomach, lips on your neck. 

It feels honest. 

It feels real. 

Wonwoo turns you on your back, leans over to kiss the skin beneath your eyes. One– two– Wonwoo has always had so much love in him. It’s just quiet. You place your palm over his cheek and he leans into it. Turns to press a kiss to the centre, to your fingertips, one by one. Everything feels soft and pink and fragile. 

“Wonwoo?”

He makes a soft, curious noise. Lips still pressed to the tip of your ring finger.

“Kiss me?”

Every time holds meaning, but now it’s morphed, reincarnated into something new. Wonwoo loves you properly, and this time he’s said it out loud. The way he kisses makes everything go hazy and light and it feels like sunset. Slow and deliberate and feathered across your skin. You thread your fingers into his hair, pulling him deeper, kissing him open mouthed, and his body goes molten against you. The weight of him is exquisite. 

Wonwoo loves like moonlight. Comes in cycles, and yes, this time it’s clearer than others, but it turns out he’s always just there even when he’s not, even when it goes dark and things turn ugly, he’s still there holding your hand. There is moonlight in his eyes, now, shining and shimmering. With tenderness, Wonwoo runs his thumb over the apple of your cheek, your bottom lip, the pulse point on your neck. You slip a hand beneath his t-shirt, touch the skin there and sigh over the way he presses against you. Your hand moves down and he stills you. 

“This is embarrassing,” he murmurs. “I didn’t bring any–”

“I don’t need one if you don’t,” you whisper. “I’m on the pill now.”

“Okay,” he says, more to himself than to you. “Okay.”

“Don’t you want to?”

Wonwoo buries his face in your neck, you can feel his eyelashes tickling your skin. “I always want to.”

“Then touch me.” 

He does. Works deft fingers over your middle, watches the way the goosebumps raise as he takes your warm body from your clothes. Soothes his big hands over your skin to warm you. You don’t tell him you’re already burning. He mouths over the swell of your breast, pebbles the nipple between his fingers, asks if it’s okay, like this. It’s okay. Anything he wants is okay. You tell him that– that he can do anything he wants to you, that you’re his to do as he pleases with, and he groans, a small disbelieving sound. 

“Don’t say things like that.” 

You don’t ask why. Wonwoo has always been possessive, but it’s not something he likes about himself. Hates to share but doesn’t like to take either, feels some kind of shame about it. Wears the word selfish like a chain around his neck. And so he doesn’t take at all, tries to stay content with nothing. You tried to tell him once, it’s not selfish to want things. It’s not self-centred to have your needs met. You deserve good things, too, Wonwoo. And he looked at you, both forlorn and skeptical, said something about how caged birds can forget how to fly. He never seemed to get that he’d only ever imprisoned himself. Tonight you’ll give him your body, push his shame away with your hands and your mouth, and let him have this. 

You fist your hands in his hair, drag him up by it just to crush your lips against his to kiss him messy. He groans again, a little louder, and it’s this you’ve missed the most. The way he forgets himself when he’s touching you. The way he lets go. You wiggle underneath him, let his body shift so he’s caught between your legs and you can feel how he presses against your core. You nip at his lip, toy with the waistband of his underwear. “Off,” you say, and Wonwoo complies. The t-shirt follows straight after, and his body is back on you, looking at you like you hung the moon. 

He brings a hand between your bodies, taps you almost where you want him, asks if he can touch you. Please. A finger dips inside, an open mouthed kiss, his length, hard, pressed into your thigh. Wonwoo likes things wet, and sloppy. You like whatever he likes. He gathers up the wetness inside you, smears it over your clit, brings his fingers to his mouth, closes his eyes as he tastes you on his tongue. God, what the fuck. 

“Missed you,” you say, and he kisses you deep. Licks into your mouth, pushes two long fingers back inside your slick heat, and curls them over the sweetest spot. You pull off his lips to gasp. 

“Can we keep doing this?” Wonwoo whispers against the corner of your mouth. “Will you kiss me anytime you want? Baby, say yes.”

You nod, head hazy, swimming in the moment. Baby. The ache in your chest, once dulled but never gone, is pounding. 

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

Wonwoo holds you like you’re about to disappear, grips your waist tight with his free hand, fucks into you slow and messy with the other. You whimper as he plays with your clit, spread your legs wider so he can see, if he wants, but he’s watching your face, watching your mouth form a silent o. You’re so pretty, he tells you. So pretty always but prettiest like this, when it’s just the two of you. Watches your eyes go glassy, watches you come apart for him, feels your pussy clench around his fingers and commits the way your body shudders to memory. He doesn’t wait for it to pass before he kisses you again, takes your whines in his mouth and eats them. They taste saccharine sweet. 

He slots between your legs, rests his cock against your core, pressing languid kisses to anywhere he can reach without moving from this spot. Nips at your collarbone, laves his tongue over the sensitive spot on your neck. Will leave a mark there, one day, when you’re his. A small part of him says that you’re his now, always have been, but it’s not really true, is it? Wonwoo needs the conversation, needs the lines drawn and the expectations laid out. Needs you to be sure that it’s him you want. Needs to know he’ll be able to give you what you need. He hasn’t, always, and that was part of the trouble. Wants it to be different, this time, because being with you is one of the few things that makes him feel whole in his own skin. 

Right now he wants to feel you like this, chasing friction and needing more. He’ll give it to you, would give you anything in this moment, just wants you needy first. It starts with you wrapping your arms around his back, running your fingertips down his spine, lighting little fires in their wake. You press a gentle kiss to his forehead, the tip of his nose, his jaw, and tell him you need him inside. That you want him to fill you up. Fuck, if he could do this forever–

He wraps long fingers around your ankle, bends your knee to press your thigh to your chest, gives him better access like this, and it’s then he rolls against you, his cock dragging along your clit. He’s always loved the way you sound. Loves the way you get wet for him. Wonwoo loves you. So much. 

“Love you, too, Wonwoo.”

He groans as he slots a hand between your bodies, fists his cock and slides into your slick, tight heat. It’s agonising, he thinks, the way you tighten around him. Wants to go to sleep this way, wrapped up in each other like this. He knows if he asks you’ll let him, but he wants you to want it too. Maybe another time. This time there’s going to be more. He knows it.

“Need you to move,” you sigh. “Move for me.”

He does. Fucks into you slow, shit, baby, you feel so good. He gets in deep, feels the tension burning in his guts, gasps into your kiss when your cunt goes impossibly tight and wet around his cock, loves when your nails dig into his skin, when your moan comes out muffled and broken. 

He pulls out to look down at his cock slipping inside you, pushes in as deep as he can again and you arch your hips to meet him. He rolls the pad of his thumb over your clit. His body is alight, the perfect amount of heat and pressure and you.

“Fuck, you’re perfect.” His voice rasps. Your lips are pink and swollen. He wants them back on him. “So wet for me.” 

The pressure of his hands on you– it wavers. Digs in hard in one moment and become the ghost of a touch the next. It’s like he loses himself and then remembers that you’re a flower, soft, and delicate. You won't break, because you’ve never been the least bit fragile, but that doesn’t mean he’s allowed to hurt. More so he doesn’t want to let himself claim you. Can’t let anyone know he knows you like he does. 

“Leave marks on me, Wonwoo,” you say, reading his mind. You run your fingers over the top of his, where they rest upon your middle. “I like it.”

He did once, at the end of the first time. Sucked a deep, purple bruise beneath your neck for everyone to see. And he loved it, loved knowing he put it there in the dark, and loved how it deepened into your skin a day later, knowing that every time you looked in the mirror you’d be reminded. Loved it– until the brakes were slammed on, and he had to watch it deepen still. Watched your friends tease, asking ‘who’s loverboy?’ just for you to say oh my god, no one, shut up. The next day you’d covered your mottled skin with make-up, so like you he pretended nothing happened. And all too soon it faded, much faster than all the rest of it. He wouldn’t have done it at all, had he known he was no one. 

But now you’re telling him to. Wanting clouds his judgement. It’s a dream, maybe, but dreams have never felt like this, you were always just out of reach. He’s all shallow thrusts and quickened breaths, and you take his hands to show him where you want his mouth. 

“Here,” you say, pressing his palm over your breast. Here is good, he thinks, as he mottles the flesh with his lips. Private, just something for the two of you. He’ll ask for a picture in a few days, jerk himself off over it, probably. You thread a hand through his hair, pull on it (his cock twitches inside you, embarrassing) to angle his head up your body. You look so happy, smiling soft, and watching him through your eyelashes. God, why didn’t he get his shit together before? 

“Here, too” you say, directing him to your collarbone. Wastes no time leaving a small mark. He likes it, looks a little like a love heart. There’s still a chill in the air this April, you could easily cover it if you need to, he wouldn’t mind this time. But then you say here, and this time you’re tipping up your jaw to give him access, pressing his fingers to the column of your lovely neck. He stills inside you, and you make a small noise of discontent, and angle your hips to draw him in deeper. 

“Please, Wonwoo,” you beg, eyes big and shining. You touch his bottom lip, wet with spit. “Need it on me. Wanna be yours too.” 

He uses teeth, this time. Sinks into your body and groans against your neck, you press kisses into his hair as he fucks you. Hard breaths, sloppy thrusts, the sound of wet skin and your broken noises. Wonwoo whimpers into your neck as you pulse around him, sucking the deepest bruise, fuck fuck fuck. “Gonna come,” you breathe. “Are you close?” He nods, laves a soothing tongue over the ache, makes it shine. 

“Harder,” you plead, pulling at his hips to drag him against you. “Make me sore.” And it’s fucked up that he wants to. Has this morbid, fascinating thought of you feeling him for days afterward as you go about your life, a heavy, aching reminder that he did this to your body– but maybe it’s okay, if you want it too? He feels the pressure on his skin, in his bones, of your need for him. He thrusts deep and fast without warning, even the breath he takes is sharp, and the noise– fuck, the noise is obscene. You come with a gasp, eyes fluttering like you want to keep them open but can’t, too lost in the feeling. He whispers sweet praise in your ear as he comes too, and you kiss, lazy and open mouthed, at his cheek. His sticky release seeps out of you around his cock, and he fucks it back in, head clouding and body taught with overstimulation.

After a moment, when he’s caught his breath and your body goes molten, he shifts his weight and starts to pull out, but you drag your listless limbs over him to hold him there. “Stay,” you ask quietly, all gentle and loving and shy. “Just for a little while.” 

Words are inefficient, here. Can’t tell you all the ways in which he loves you. Just places those feelings on his lips and presses them to your temple. Hopes you know what you mean to him and hopes he means the same to you. Wonwoo welcomes this arrow through his heart. 

When it’s quiet, and the air in the room is all still and heavy, you murmur against his sweat-sheened skin, “It’s never like this with anyone else.”

No. Nothing could ever be like this.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

May 2006

You’re home for the weekend, and today you're taking a day trip to Dadaepo beach, the south side of Busan. Wonwoo is driving and the windows are down and you’re listening to music and you’re in love. For real, this time. No second guessing, no wondering if he loves you back, because it’s out in the open and it’s tangible. He holds your hand all the time, and it’s so nice not to have adrenaline coursing through your veins before he knots his fingers with yours. He’s driving like this, hands clasped together in your lap. 

Iseul and Seoyoung got close so fast, and they’re singing old songs together in the backseat. Mingyu’s too long body is squished between them, looking utterly perplexed at how he ended up in this car with these strange, loud women. 

Later, you lay out the picnic you’d packed. The others are in the water, in the distance you can almost hear Iseul and Seoyoung shouting happily at Mingyu, and him yelling back. Wonwoo lays stretched out on the blanket like a cat, half dozing in the sun, face covered by the book he was reading earlier. He’s stroking your knee absentmindedly. 

“Talked to my dad earlier– he asked after your applications,” you say.

“Should find out the rest soon,” he replies. He’s already been accepted at KNUH, but that’s his back up. 

A couple of seabirds soar high overhead, can hear them calling to each other, flying so close their wings almost touch. They go like that together, far out above the ocean, and you watch them go until they’re just specks in the hazy blue.

“It’d be nice to live here,” you muse, looking at the way the sunlight dances on the water. “Wouldn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Wonwoo smiles soft, half-hidden under the book. “Yeah it would.”

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

“Happy birthday,” Wonwoo whispers into your skin. He’s half-asleep still. Breath warming your neck and fingers slotted into the waistband of your pyjamas. Not to go further, just to touch. 

You press a kiss to the tip of his nose, more alert, having been awake a little longer and waiting for him to stir. “Thank you,” you whisper back, smiling wide. “When do I get my flowers?”

“Patience is a virtue,” he mumbles. 

“One I don’t have,” you say into his cheek. 

“Liar.”

“Did you hide them in the bathroom?” You shift, ready to go get them yourself, but Wonwoo holds you tighter, dragging you back in. 

“You’re not getting your own flowers.” Wonwoo pushes up from the bed. Hair messy and face all scrunched up. God, he’s lovely in the mornings. “Stay there.”

You suppress a giggle, touching his bare thigh just to touch. 

“I like when you’re bossy.” 

He kisses your forehead. You put his glasses on for him, wonky because he just looks so cute like that. He grumbles.

He pulls on his grey sweatpants from the night before, doesn’t bother with a shirt, to fumble his way out of his room in the barely-there morning light. He comes back in about five minutes later, singing the birthday song, voice soft and slow with sleep, tray in hands, two coffees, a bowl of fruit to share, a funfetti cupcake with one pastel green candle, blush pink tulips pretty in a vase. 

He makes you blow out the candle, sets the tray on the nightstand on your side of his bed, and flops back in beside you. He curls into your side, arm over your middle and drawing you close, eyes already shutting. You smile, touching the petals and making birthday wishes that all of this carries on, even as you get old. 

“They’re pretty, thank you, Wonwoo.”

“Pretty flowers for my pretty girl,” he says simply, like it doesn’t make your heart sing. “Your real present is later.”

“You already got me my present,” you protest.

“S’different now,” he says through a yawn. 

You grin. Things are different. There still hasn’t been a conversation, nothing defined– you should do that, soon– but it feels like you belong to each other, more so than any other time before. The two of you are swimming into open sun-dappled waters, and it feels warm.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

June 2006

Wonwoo sits on the edge of his bed, the envelope thick with papers lying forgotten on the floor. He drags his free hand over his mouth, reads the letter again in disbelief, because it can’t be real. It shouldn’t be. 

“I shouldn’t have applied.” His voice is strained. Hurts to hear. 

Of course he should have. 

“You couldn’t have known.” 

“I’m not going.” He meets your eyes, stricken, and you know he’d mean it if you even gave him an inch.

“Oh, Wonwoo,” you sigh. “You’ve got to. It was made for you.”

The letter is crumpling in Wonwoo’s fist. He’ll want to save it, probably. A memento of the start of his new chapter. He should save it. You take it from him, smooth out the creases, pull a heavy book from your shelf and press it over the paper. You won’t cry, not here in front of him, but your eyes feel too wet. He’d only feel some awful boundless guilt and it’d just make everything worse. You rub at them. 

Wonwoo moves close. Tugs at your belt loop to bring you between his legs, presses his forehead into your sternum, and you cradle his head in your arms. 

“It’s okay,” you insist, soothing a hand over his hair, reassuring yourself as well as him. “What was it your dad used to call us? Do you remember?”

He nods. You tug him by the chin to look up at you. “Tell me,” you say as you touch his neck, feel his pulse quicken, and his eyes flutter closed. 

“Birds of a feather,” he breathes.

Wonwoo pushes up your top, presses open wet kisses up your middle, bunches the material under your arms and drags the cup of your bra down rough. 

“That’s it,” you say, voice thick. “That’s it, Wonwoo. We’re birds.”

Takes your nipple in his mouth, makes it wet with his tongue, pulls off just to watch it pebble in the cold, slick with spit. 

“You need to go,” you say. Your throat is dry. Deep in your mind, the cruelest part of you, says it was purposeful, him applying for something that’ll take him away from you, right on the precipice of it all. Before lines can be drawn, while the boundaries are still blurred. He’s not like that, really. It’s just your projection, you remind yourself. Doesn’t stop it from hurting because two short months isn’t enough, but you’ll never be the one to hold him back. Not when he’s been working so hard, not when he holds himself back more than anyone. You fist your hands at the nape of his neck. “I’ll kill you if you don’t.”

He pulls at your hips, fingers digging so tight they hurt. It’s good. It’s awful. 

“I can’t do a distance like this,” you admit, carding your hands through his hair. “A year is too long. Might be more.” His clumsy, desperate hands fumble with the button of your jeans, pushing them down your legs so you can kick them off. You slide into his lap, wrap your legs around his waist. His mouth moves up your body, clawing and aching and needy, teeth nipping at your collarbone, sucking purple into your spit-sheened skin. Slips a hand between you and hums pleasantly at the wetness on your underwear. Circles his fingers over your cotton-covered clit. “How long have we got left?”

“Three weeks,” he says, between bites. His eyelashes are wet. 

You nod. Okay. “It’ll be okay. We’ve got three weeks, and then we’ll be friends again. We can do this.”

Wonwoo pulls your underwear to the side, slips a finger over your wet, wanting cunt. “Friends don’t do this,” he rasps, sinking his finger in, curling just enough to make you keen. He’s so hard, you can feel the denim-clad bulge against your body. “Friends don’t touch each other like this.”

“We can,” you sigh. “If we want.” He wrenches at your clothes and kicks them to the floor, leaves you bare and he’s still wearing too much. 

You push him back on the bed, drag his hands from your body to pin them at his sides. He looks at you, wounded and desperately turned on. You turn your back on him, spread your legs over his body to let him see you, wet and needy, pull on his belt and shove his jeans and underwear away just enough to free his hard cock. 

“You know I want more than that,” he admits, breath warm against your clit. He hisses as you take him in your mouth, whines desperately as you pull back and swipe your tongue over the head. Let the spit bubble between your lips and work it over him, because this is how he likes you, sloppy and messy and wet. He licks into you, all tongue and teeth and soft lips against your core, pressed deep, getting his face wet with you, drags your body down tight against his mouth, arms wrapped around your hips and fingers digging into your flesh. You moan, pornographic, around his cock. Wonwoo arches his hips, fucks rough into your mouth, chasing the heat. 

Wonwoo is greedy, sometimes. You love this part of him, when he lets it out. Wants your release fast, it seems. He moves between sharp bites at your thighs, marks pressed into the juncture of them, secret and lovely, heavy sucks over your clit, all while working you open with long, thick fingers. Makes you come unexpectedly fast, shuddering over him and pulling off his achingly hard cock with a broken moan. “You’re so wet, baby. Wanna be inside you.”

You nod, dumb and lovestruck and hazy. He grabs at your wrist and tugs, pulls you back over him and tight against his body, kisses you deep and lets you taste yourself on his tongue. You tug at his shirt, drag it awkwardly over his head and his glasses get pulled off with them, they clatter to the floor, but he’s pulling your breast to his mouth again and nothing matters but this, right now. 

Right now, you sink over him slow slow slow, let him feel all your tight, wet heat before he gets needy, before he fucks up into you hard, like he wants to become part of you. Like he wants to crawl inside and make a home there. You watch his chest rise and fall, touch his skin as best you can between the lack of space between your bodies, lay your palm over his heart and feel it beat for you. He calls you beautiful, and you say it back. Says he likes the way your eyes roll back, that he loves how wet you get when he kisses your neck, when he calls you his pretty girl. Baby, fuck– you take me so well. He reaches behind your body, fingers splayed over where you join, feels the way your cunt hugs him. Groans as you grip his length with your pussy, hisses when you dig your nails into his chest as you come– everywhere, everything tight tight tight. 

Wonwoo runs soothing hands down your back as you sag against him, tells you he loves you, asks delicate and concerned if you want to stop because you’re crying, and when you hold him closer, tell him no, you need this– he puts you on your back and fucks you hard enough to make you forget about it. Presses your body into the mattress and lays his entire weight on you. Wonwoo buries his face in the crook of your neck, whispers that you mean everything to him, and you nod, hold his body and let the fever set in. He comes with the deepest, most languid stroke, holds his cock tight inside and fills you up. Asks desperately if you can feel it. You can. Yeah, yeah I can feel you. Feels so good. 

Much later, you lay facing each other in the quiet, tears already shed and conversation put on pause. It’s too hard to talk about being friends, just now. He kisses your eyelids, your cheeks, your lips, and you let him. Too sad to move, too in love. Friends don’t mean I love you the way you do.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

August, 2006

From: Wonwoo <everyonewoo@mail.com> To: You <bowser80@aol.com> Date: 2nd August 2006, 21:13

Hello from Naxos, 

I got here from Athens a few days ago. I stupidly left my laptop in one of the lecture halls (I think) and no one has handed it in to the office, so I didn’t see your emails until now. Sorry about that. I feel like I’ve been living in a daze since I left home. Can’t keep my head on straight.

I don’t know how to describe this place. It’s beautiful. It’s hot. My room doesn’t have air conditioning and the sweat makes the sheets stick to my skin even in the middle of the night. The air hangs still and it’s thick in my throat. I think you’d hate it. And even then I’m sure you’d want to be held to sleep while complaining about the heat. I’m in the internet cafe now, and it’s so nice and cool I might pay for an extra hour just to sit here and feel like a person again.

Tomorrow we’re visiting Keros for the first time, and I don’t know how to feel. Whenever I imagine stepping off the boat the roof of my mouth goes dry. Is that excitement? I don’t know. I do know that I’m not sure I fit in here with the others. They’re quite similar to you, in the coming from a well off family regard, but they’re completely unaware of how they sound. I don’t think they realise how they flaunt it. When I first got here they talked about taking ‘the boat’ down to Santorini and asked if I wanted to join them. I said I’d need to check how much the ferry costs, and they looked at me like I’d sprouted another head right in front of them. Turns out they took someone’s dads yacht for the weekend. I didn’t go. I think you’d know how to talk with them. You’d know how to relate to them in some way that wouldn’t come across awkward or fake. I mean that as a compliment.

You asked me what I’m thinking about and right now it’s that time you and I dug out those old coins in your grandparents garden. Do you think your Grandfather buried them there for us to find? I’ve often thought that that small thing brought me to where I am, to what I’m doing, and I wonder if it was real? I miss that garden a lot. I miss us in it.

Am I complaining too much? I am, aren’t I? I think it’s the heat. 

How is your summer at home?

What have you been doing?

From: Wonwoo <everyonewoo@.com> To: You <bowser80@aol.com> Date: 2nd August 2006, 21:18

Mum and dad say you’re welcome to visit them before you go back to the city next month.

I miss you.

From: You <bowser80@aol.com> To: Wonwoo <everyonewoo@mail.com> Date: 4th August 2006, 18:52

Hello to Naxos,

I’m sure you’ll be in Keros by now, so I hope it’s everything you hoped it would be. It looks lovely in the photographs on Google but I hope you’re taking some of your own for me anyway. I want some photos just for me, please, Wonwoo. I hope you’re looking at the sea and thinking that I’d like the colour of it. 

I don’t know how much I’d enjoy the company of your colleagues though. They sound stuffy and out of touch. Is there anyone you actually like yet? Tell me about them. 

I’m in the garden right now. I’m quite positive Grandpa buried the coins for us because there was mud all over his knees, don’t you remember? Granny scolded him for washing his dirty hands in the kitchen sink but she said the smile on your face made her forget about it. Just because it was engineered doesn’t mean it wasn’t real, you know? That your joy wasn’t real. Don’t you feel joy now, being exactly where you’ve wanted to be for the longest time? 

It’s been almost two months since you left and you haven’t sent one single photo of a cat, and I know for a fact that Greece has many. Have you spent all your time off holed up inside? Go out for a drink. Make some friends. Stand on the grass with your feet bare. It’ll do you some good.

Summer at home is as it always is. I saw Mingyu and Seokmin at a bar a few days after you left, Mingyu said to say hi but I told him to do it himself and gave him your new email address, I knew you wouldn’t mind. Mother has been down, I think Dongho cheated on her again but she won’t say anything. I haven’t done much else besides sleeping and shopping and playing games. Don’t tell anyone I said so but it’s boring without you here. 

I don’t think I’ll stay for the whole summer, actually. Iseul and Seoyoung are saying they want to visit the States. I’ll probably go with them. Iseul’s parents have a little place in California. I’ll take my laptop though, email me every time you think of me.

Tell your parents I’ll visit in the next few days, I’ve been craving your mum’s kimchi jjigae. 

PS - I miss us in the garden too. 

From: Wonwoo <everyonewoo@mail.com> To: You <bowser80@aol.com> Date: 7th August 2006, 19:36

Keros was definitely something. I worry I built it up in my head too much, you know? Thought I’d feel more moved than I did. One of the leads, Edward, from a village in Wales I can’t pronounce the name of, is walking us through the project for the next few weeks. If I could learn half as much as he knows for the time I’m here, I’m sure I’ll get by for the rest of my career. I stood in the ruins of what was a home built over 2300 years ago and wondered what the people who lived there must’ve felt about it. Were they happy? Did they think the island too small? Were they jealous their neighbour had a better view of the ocean? Did they start sleeping with their best friend (again) just before moving to a Mediterranean island hahaha?

Should we talk about us yet? I worry if we leave it any longer we’ll just start pretending it didn’t happen again.

I did take some pictures on the island. Shall I post them on Facebook? There’s this small cove you would’ve liked that had these tiny iridescent fish that swam up so close to my feet that I thought they’d bite them. There was one cat outside my window but it was dark and the one photo I got of it is so blurry it’s not worth showing. I’ll find more to take photos of. 

Thanks for giving Mingyu my details, he’s already emailed me. He said you were looking well. I’m sorry about your mother. 

I won’t go for that drink you suggest because all the would-be drinkers seem more interested in snorting lines off each other's chests, and I don’t have the spare cash for all that. I have met some people - Matteo and Emma. Matteo is from Naples and Emma is from London. Emma reads, and she said she’ll lend me her copy of The Little Prince when she’s done with it. I haven’t told her I’ve already read it.

California sounds like it’ll be fun for you. Knowing Iseul her parent’s “little place” has eight bedrooms, a tennis court, an olympic swimming pool, and a live-in chef haha. How long will you go for? 

PS - on second thought I don’t know how you would’ve felt about the fish and the feet. 

PPS - if I emailed you every time I thought of you then I’d hardly ever leave the cafe.

From: Wonwoo <everyonewoo@mail.com> To: You <bowser80@aol.com> Date: 8th August 2006, 17:52

Should I have brought it up?

From: You <bowser80@aol.com> To: Wonwoo <everyonewoo@mail.com> Date: 9th August 2006, 06:28

Hello from LA,

Sorry for the slow reply, it’s been a bit of a whirlwind.

Wonwoo, I don’t know what there is to say about it all. Do you? 

I’m trying very hard not to be pathetic but the fact is that despite whatever state our on and off hook up thing is in, I still want us to be in each other’s lives. I don’t think you’re going to be in love with me forever, are you? You’re my safe space and I like hearing your thoughts and I feel like being your friend makes me a better person. We have good sex, great sex, but we’ve never managed anything solid. I mean, I know that you left because of the fellowship and because I encouraged you to take it, but things between us always seem to end just as soon as it gets real. 

Don’t worry, Wonwoo. We’re always going to be friends. You’re going to marry the girl next door type that doesn’t ask too many questions. She is sweet and knits you scarves for Christmas and prefers doggy style so you don’t see her face when she comes. She isn’t me– the selfish, obnoxious girl from three streets across, who beat you in the spelling bee when we were seven. You’re probably going to have three children, and definitely become very accomplished in whatever archeologists are accomplished in. And I am going to have at least four husbands, one child who’ll grow up rolling their eyes at me, and I’ll become infamous for whistleblowing the government for…. something gross and scandalous. Like listening in to everyone’s phone calls. We’ll holiday together and our children will grow up like cousins and when we get drunk and our spouses go to bed I’ll go “remember our last night before you left for Greece? Remember that night? You put your wet fingers in my mouth and told me ‘bite down when you come.’ I think about that all the time.” You’ll be so mortified your ears will go red. You’ll probably spill your drink.

I’m laughing my ass off just imagining it. Isn’t it funny that you’re only bold enough to say things like that when we’re in bed? It’s like you need to be cocooned up with someone in order to let your inside voice out. God, you’re so impolite when you fuck me. 

But don’t worry. You were my best friend long before you ever touched me like that. Every time we do this you tell me you just want to be friends, right? So let’s be friends. I can do platonic if that makes it easier for you.

Anyway. The update is I visited your parents (they probably already told you) and your mum made the BEST japchae for me. They love me sooooo much, I’ve got no idea why. I’m sure you’re very jealous and that sustains me. Now I’m in LA for the rest of the month. Iseul’s place is only six bedrooms, actually! No tennis court or live-in chef but the pool is admittedly gigantic. Please see attached photo. I look great, right? I’m sure you’re nodding. Maybe while I’m here I’ll find husband numero uno. If I'm going to have four I should start working on that ASAP. 

We’re okay, Wonwoo. 

PS - don’t you dare upload those photos to Facebook, send them to me and me alone. Also send me one of you because you’ve been gone so long I’ve forgotten what you look like. 

From: Wonwoo <everyonewoo@mail.com> To: You <bowser80@aol.com> Date: 10th August 2006, 20:39

Hello to California,

Is that really what you think? That I fall out of it so quickly? That we started sleeping together again, and you think I didn’t feel fucked up over leaving? I’m starting to wonder if it was worth leaving at all. I’m glad we’re friends but do friends kiss the way we do? Are friends allowed to do that with each other? Does it make me a bad friend if I looked at the photo you sent and thought how pretty you are and let my mind run away wondering how you’d look if you were in my room here. I almost thought about printing your photo off but is that perverted? You’re fully clothed but I feel like a pervert. You do look great. I love that colour on you. 

I can’t imagine this life you’re dreaming up. I can’t imagine marrying some faceless person. Can’t imagine anything for me beyond what’s happening today. I can see you with four husbands though. I don’t mean that in any type of way, just that you find it easy to find people who love you even if they don’t exactly fit.

If you’re going to uncover some government spy operation let’s get started on the theories right now. If they’ve been listening to phone calls then it stands to reason they’re probably reading emails and texts too. Do you think they’re reading ours? Do we have our very own spy?

What is your first husband going to be like? The antithesis of me? Or maybe someone so strangely similar that all of our friends whisper about how weird it is? Don’t you think it’s messed up that we’re talking about this?

Please see attached a couple of photos of the island, one of me in my room, for your eyes only. Don’t go showing them to Iseul and Seoyoung. They’re not as good as the ones on my film camera but you’ll have to wait until I’m home for those. 

PS - can you download Skype? Efraim, the guy who owns the cafe, is installing it on all the computers, he says we’ll be able to video call. I’m free on Sunday after 7PM, that’s 9AM for you. Are you free?

From: You <bowser80@aol.com> To: Wonwoo <everyonewoo@mail.com> Date: 11th August 2006, 12:05

It was worth leaving because this is what you’ve been working for your whole life. And it doesn’t matter that we started again because as long as we’re both single it can pick up whenever we want. I know you care for me in your quiet way. I know you’d never hurt me with intent. It’s fun, and we’re young, and we know it’s easy with each other. It doesn’t have to be more than that. Maybe we shouldn’t have said the L word, though, don’t you think? I try not to think about it. It would have been more sensible not to. Hindsight blah blah blah. 

We can be whatever kind of friends you want. I don’t mind that you think about fucking me. You did, right? When you saw my photo? I’d quite like it if you did. I like thinking about your cheeks getting hot and having to adjust your jeans in the middle of the cafe. Did you feel the need to hide your screen?

You’re probably right about the spies reading our emails too, I’ll note that down somewhere offline. Have you considered that our spy may be Efraim? After all, he has easy access to the computers you use every evening. Maybe you should consider getting a laptop of your own. It must be costing you a small fortune going to the cafe to email little old me every day. Dad is getting a new one soon, shall I ask him to post you his old one? Don’t be weird about accepting it, it’s just a laptop.

My first husband is so so so handsome. Grossly rich because of generational wealth, he doesn’t have to deal with the stress of being self made. I need to start strong, you see. A little shorter than you, so you’re not entirely emasculated haha. He probably knows how to sail. I bet he drapes sweaters across his shoulders like those guys in Ralph Lauren ads. I bet he’s played Wonderwall on an acoustic guitar and doesn’t realise how cliche it is. He’s probably doing it right now. I hope he’s not conceited. That’d be unbearable. Though I suppose we’d need a good reason to divorce. 

How are Matteo and Emma? What are they like? Did you tell them anything about me?

Seoyoung says hello. Iseul said she thinks you need a haircut (sorry, she peeked over my shoulder when I read your email) but I don’t. I think you look hot with long hair. Send me more photos of you? Take a shower first and think about me. Leave your clothes off. Shut your eyes and imagine I’m with you. I’ll open them in private.

We’re going to a party in Malibu on Saturday. Iseul’s cousins (Joshua and Kevin– they’re cool, you’d like them) are family friends with some big shot Hollywood producer so maybe I’ll meet some celebrities! Maybe I’ll meet my husband! If you send me a photo before then just know I won’t look at it, I need my head in the game. I’ll call on Sunday morning and tell you all about it.

PS - don’t open the attached photos in front of Efraim. It’s okay if you print them.

From: Wonwoo <everyonewoo@mail.com> To: You <bowser80@aol.com> Date: 12th August 2006, 22:47

God. You’re right about getting another laptop while I’m here (I’m not taking your dad’s one, I’ll save up for one by myself) because I had to wait until Efraim went to the bathroom before printing your photos. I nearly broke a sweat wondering if he’d come back too quickly and see me holding them like some kind of sick freak. You’re so beautiful, do you know that? Your husbands won’t know what to do with themselves.

Yes, I’ve been thinking about fucking you. Do you think about it too? I’m guessing by your photos that you do. Did you think of me eating you out when you touched yourself? You probably won’t read this email for another twelve hours but just know that I failed miserably not getting hard in the back of the cafe. I had to spend ten minutes catching up on the news back home just to stop remembering being inside you, how wet you get when I kiss your neck. What am I, a teenager?

You should’ve come here for your summer trip, rather than LA. Why are you going out tonight looking for someone else when you could have been here. I’m jealous. I miss you. 

I’ll send you your demands before we call tomorrow. I want to see your face when you open it.

Matteo and Emma are great. They’re funny, and well read, and they know more mythology than I do, if you can believe it. Matteo is a good cook. He made lasagne for dinner the night I last emailed you and it was the best thing I’ve ever eaten. I wish you could try it. If he ever wanted to open a restaurant he absolutely could. If you wanted to take him as one of your husbands I wouldn’t be opposed. It’d give me more reason to have dinner at your house. Emma has the most infectious laugh I’ve ever heard. 

They both know about you. We work together here a few nights a week, so they’ve seen me writing you. I told them we’re best friends, that you’re a little bit insane despite being one of the most level headed people I know. I never know what’s going to come out of your mouth. I told them that you’re smarter than I am, and that you’ll probably take down several governments one day. I told them that you miss me terribly. And that you understand me better than I understand myself, and that I can hardly understand you at all. 

Emma asked if we were ever together, and I didn’t know how to answer. I almost said not really, but I don’t know if that’s true. Is it true? Matteo changed the subject before I could answer anyway. He wanted to know who bowser80 was. On that note I’m begging you to choose a more sensible email address, if only so Efraim doesn’t think I’m sending vaguely horny emails to a Super Mario character. He probably has the wrong impression of you. 

I’m really looking forward to speaking to you properly. Your photos are- well they’re obscenely hot. But I want to see your smile. 

Talk soon. Don’t fuck your husband-to-be on the first night, he doesn’t deserve you.

PS - I’m not sure if Efraim is our spy, actually. I just watched him pick his nose and wipe it under the desk. I would hope someone trained in espionage would have better decorum. 

From: Wonwoo <everyonewoo@mail.com> To: You <bowser80@aol.com> Date: 13th August 2006, 18:56

Don’t open these until we’re on the call. 

Can’t wait.

From: You <bowser80@aol.com> To: Wonwoo <everyonewoo@mail.com> Date: 14th August 2006, 09:08

I can’t stop thinking about you. I’ve been looking at your photos again since I woke up and I fear I’m never going to leave my bed. 

Wonwoo, I’m being very serious when I say you need to get a laptop again as soon as possible because Efraim absolutely cannot read or hear the things I want to say to you. God, Wonwoo, I need to suck your dick inside out. I need you inside me.

How long have you got left in Europe? Is it forever?

From: Wonwoo <everyonewoo@mail.com> To: You <bowser80@aol.com> Date: 14th August 2006, 17:31

I can’t stop thinking about you either. I forgot the sound of your laugh for a while and now after hearing it I’m worried I’ll lose it again. Let's keep calling, so we stay real for each other. For the sake of my sanity please say less about sucking my dick. It’s only Monday and it’s a personal goal of mine to make it through the week without rocking a semi in this cafe.

On the topic of buying a laptop, I’m picking up a part time job. The stipend doesn’t stretch as far as I’d hoped. Efraim is hiring, and I asked if working here means I can read everyone's emails and he looked so confused I was almost convinced. Perhaps he’s a better spy than we thought. Of course working here means more opportunity for talking to you, which sweetens the deal somewhat. 

It does feel like it’ll be forever, doesn’t it? I won’t be able to come home to visit until March. I wouldn’t be opposed to you visiting me here during your winter break. Would you like to?

Say yes.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

December 2006

From: Wonwoo <everyonewoo@mail.com> To: You <bowser80@aol.com> Date: 30th December 2006, 09:40

Hi baby,

My palms are sweating but I don’t know why I’m nervous. It’s just us, isn’t it? I haven’t been this nervous to see you since before school the day after we slept together. The first time, I mean. We were idiots, I know that much. 

I’m borrowing Matteo’s car to come pick you up, I’m nearly ready. Please excuse the mess in it, he lives like a pig but he’s so endearing Emma and I forgive him anything. You’ll see what I mean when you meet him tonight. Emma can’t make it until New Years, she sends her apologies- I don’t know why I’m telling you this, I’ll say it to your face.

By the time you read this, it’ll be tomorrow morning and we’ll have already had one whole day together. You’ll ask to use my laptop to check your emails, and I’ll still be half asleep in the bed next to you. 

Have I kissed you yet? 

I’ve been working up the courage to kiss you as soon as you get through customs. I’ve been playing out how it’ll go. I’m going to set your bags down on the floor and take your face in my hands and kiss you right there in the middle of the arrivals lounge. Even as I’m typing all of this out, I know it won’t happen like that. I’m going to wave awkwardly when I see you coming through the doorway. I’m going to be hit with a rush of nostalgia when I catch the smell of your shampoo when we hug hello. I’m going to look at your lips and think about the taste of you, but then I’ll feel the eyes of other people on us, and they’ll be wondering if we’re together, and then I’ll start thinking too much and accidentally leave it too late, and you’ll be handing me your bags to carry. I’ll feel foolish and thoughtless for not taking them from you in the first place. 

I’ll kiss you without an audience. I hope you don’t mind. 

From: You <bowser80@aol.com> To: Wonwoo <everyonewoo@mail.com> Date: 31st December 2006, 06:15

Hi Wonwoo, 

I like when you call me baby outside of the bedroom. Are you trying it on for size?

Don’t worry, you were a real gentleman at the airport yesterday. Took my bag and opened doors and everything. Five stars. It’s sweet knowing you were nervous. You didn’t look it at all. I thought how confident and self assured you seemed, like you knew all the answers to every question ever asked. I’m kind of in awe of you. The way we talk online has me forgetting what you’re like in person. How quiet you go, how the comfortable silences have me wondering what you’re thinking, how deliberate you are with your words. You say sometimes that I understand you better than anyone but I don’t think I do. You must think that your expressions give away your every emotion but they don’t, Wonwoo. You have this huge inner world I know nothing about and your emails give me a peek at what’s inside. You’re a mystery to me, the same way everyone is a mystery. 

Even now, you’re fast asleep (I’m sorry I didn’t wake you to ask to use your laptop, but you don’t mind, do you? I wanted you to rest.) and I have no idea what you’re dreaming about. Is it me? I hope it is. I like how you sleep next to me, did I ever tell you that? You’re like a koala. I like how you reach for my hand when I think you’re already sleeping and draw lazy figures of eight across my palm, with your chest against my back. I like the way your hair is even longer now. Messy and soft. Wonwoo, you’re so so so handsome. You look like an artist. You look like someone Jane Austen would write about.

I liked that you kissed me in private. I liked that you kissed me at all. I liked that you held my hand when you introduced me to your friends, even though you were quiet as ever. Were you feeling shy?

I’m looking in the mirror now and I like the marks you left on my neck. They’re so dark! I’m going to need a vat of concealer to cover these up if we leave your room today. I’m going to steal your scarf. I should complain about the mess you made of me, but I like that you’re secretly possessive. Don’t tell anyone I told you that haha. 

I like the way you touched me last night. The way you pressed my hips into the mattress and licked over my clit. The way you twined our hands together and rolled into me. If I close my eyes I can still feel it. Your teeth on my jaw. You, thick and hard, so deep inside me. Your skin felt good against mine. Were we always that good together? Is it better now because we haven’t seen each other for so long? I was so wet I’d be embarrassed if it were with anyone but you. Fuck, I want you again. 

You don’t know that I’m wearing your t-shirt right now. Would you be bothered? Would you like it? 

Wonwoo, would you mind if I woke you up? I want you to fuck me in your t-shirt. I want you to open your tired eyes and be glad I’m in something that smells like you. Reach under the hem and find me without underwear, already wet and wanting. I want you to fuck me harder than last night. I want you to fuck me so deep I can feel you in my throat. I want to feel the vibrations of your groan against my chest. I want it to hurt so much that I still feel you there when I leave. 

I’m going to send this email and wake you up. Sorry it’s so early, baby.

From: Wonwoo <everyonewoo@mail.com> To: You <bowser80@aol.com> Date: 31st December 2006, 07:53

Good morning,

You’re in the shower. I’m laying on my bed wondering how I’m going to survive this week. We’ve always been good together, I think. But I’ve never, ever seen you like that before. In a good way. The best way. 

Baby, you know I still love you, don’t you? I’m going to say that to your face any second now, so you will already know by the time you read this. Do you love me too?

Keep wearing my t-shirts. Take that one home with you so you can wear it when we Skype, and I can remember the morning you ruined my life. That one looks better on you anyway. God. We’ve got five days left and I’m already hating the thought of you going home. Is it insane to ask you to stay longer? Probably. You’ve got work. Tonight I'm going to kiss you at midnight and make a wish.

I love you. 

I hope you say it back.

PS - it won’t be too long before I’m home. Please wait for me. We can be birds again.

From: You <bowser80@aol.com> To: Wonwoo <everyonewoo@mail.com> Date: 1st January 2007, 08:29

I love you too.

Don’t worry, Wonwoo. We’re always birds.

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

thank you so much for reading! if you enjoyed this fic, please consider telling me what you liked via a reblog so my fic can get seen outside my own little space <3 i love seeing your feedback. if you have any questions, please ask!! it gives me life to talk about these babies. ily, goodnight!

prequel: joke me something awful.

taglist: @noona-neomu-yeppeo @starmy-143 @haaruki @channieschubbycake @minahaeyo

@mingiboye @kkaetnipjeon @lleercy @itsnotnaomi @ateez-atiny380

@blvked19

[confusionmeisss]

baby cousin - c. sturniolo

🫧 chris sturniolo x fem!reader

🫧 where you bring chris along with you to a family party and your little baby cousin absolutely steals all his attention.

🫧 fluff.

🫧 1.4k words.

🫧 hi lovelies!! thank you so much for wanting to read! uh this idea just popped into my head when i seen this picture of chris, i was like, “i got the perfect thing to write based on this” i think i was also heavily inspired by the fact that my baby cousins baptism was coming up so i was gonna be seeing my little cousins! anyway, enjoy bc i loved writing this! much love to you all!! <3 oh also, apologies if ur ovulating or have baby fever 😣 masterlist

Your five year old cousin, Lila, had to be the most bubbly and extroverted of all your cousins. She would chat to anyone willing to listen. Most of all, she’d been attached to you since you could remember, turning herself into your little shadow. She mimics your mannerisms and what you say. And whenever you’re anywhere with her there as well, you have to be so careful with moving about because she’ll be stuck to you like velcro.

So it was normal that as soon as you set foot into your aunt’s backyard and the little girl spotted you, her features lit up and she made a mad dash for you; her small body colliding with yours.

You let out a breath at the collision, a smile overtaking your face afterwards. “Hey Li,” you say, crouching down to her level.

“Hi, Y/N!” She shouts out brightly.

You laugh softly. “Heard you started kindergarten. How’s that been for you, bug? Make any new friends?” You ask, brushing back a piece of stray hair from her face.

She nods her head enthusiastically. “Yes! His name is Austin and we push each other on the swings and play legos together!”

“That’s great! Hey, I have someone I want you to meet,” you say, standing back to your height.

“Really?”

“Mhm,” you say, grabbing her small hand and leading her to where your mother is standing talking to your uncle; Chris standing next to her.

“His name is Chris and he’s my boyfriend.”

Lila stops you before you reach them by tugging at your shirt.

You look down at her. “Do you think he’ll wanna be my friend?”

“Oh for sure. I think you two will get along real well in fact.”

“Okay! Then let’s go meet my new friend Chris!”

You let out another soft laugh as you both finally reach your mother and Chris. Your mother spotting you both and letting out a gasp.

“Oh well if it isn’t my favorite five year old!” She says, reaching down and tugging Lila into a big hug. “How’s school going for you so far, darling?”

“Great! Made new friends! Bout to make a new one now!” Lila lets out from her place in your mothers arms, squirming just a little bit.

“Oh, yes,” your mother lets out a chuckle. “Go on and meet Christopher now, darling.” Your mother lets go of the girl with a pat on her head before wandering off to talk to another family member.

Almost immediately Lila looks at the man now standing next to you. A bright grin taking over her face, making her cheeks squish and her eyes squint.

“Hello! I’m Lila, and I would like to be your friend! Would you like to be my friend?” The little girl asks with a little hand outstretched towards Chris.

His bigger one engulfs hers as he returns her greeting. “I would love to be your friend, Lila.”

Lila lets go of Chris’ hand and claps her hands together with a squeal of delight.

“That’s great! Do y’wanna go play in my sandbox with me? We can make sandcastles!”

“I would love to!” Chris says brightly.

And as soon as the words left his mouth, he was being dragged away by Lila and towards her sandbox.

“So, I heard that you’re in school now. Do you like it?” Chris asks, as he plops down onto the grass next to the sandbox.

“Oh I love it!” Lila replies, picking up two pink shovels, and shoving one towards Chris. “It’s super fun! Like, I get to color, but I gotta stay inside the lines which I guess can be hard sometimes. But like we also get to watch movies sometimes. And now I can count up to twenty! Which is how old Y/N is! How old are you?”

Chris lets out a chuckle at the girl’s enthusiastic debrief. “Well, I’m glad you enjoy school. I’m twenty too, but I won’t be in a couple more months; then I’ll be twenty-one along with my brothers.”

“You have brothers? I’m an only child, I dunno what that’s like. Wait, why are you and your brothers all turning the same age at the same time? That’s not how it works,” Lila says, her head tilted to the side in confusion.

“Ah, you see my brothers and I were born on the same day, so we all turn the same age at the same time,” Chris explains. “We’re triplets. It’s like twins but instead of two, there’s three of us.”

Lila gasps, sand flying up from her excited hand movements - which Chris notes she’s picked up from you - and into her hair. Lila remains unphased by this as she says, “That’s so cool!”

“Yeah, it really is.”

Lila quickly changes topics though as her gaze focuses on something behind her. “Let’s blow bubbles, and then we can chase them trying to pop them before they disappear!”

“Alright,” Chris agrees easily, standing up from the grass. He watches as Lila runs over to a little plastic picnic table and grabs a tube of bubbles.

“Will you blow them?” She asks, running back over to him. Once she reaches him, she holds out her hand with the bubbles in it out to him expectantly.

“‘Course I will,” Chris says, taking hold of the bubble tube and twisting it open. “Ready?” He asks.

Receiving a nod in response, he starts blowing the bubbles, watching them float out into the air and Lila chase after them trying to pop them.

Chris has a happy smile on his face as he watches the little girl giggle while trying to pop the bubbles.

“Chris, can you try and make a super big one? Y/N can do it, and it’s always so cool!”

Chris nods and focuses on attempting to make as big of a bubble as he can. It takes a few tries, all of which Lila giggles at, before he finally gets one out.

“Woah!” Lila gasps out, before giggling and reaching up to pop it with her little finger.

The bubble bursts and splatters against Chris’ face, making him scrunch it up in distaste. “Oh ew, soaps on my mouth now.”

Lila lets out a loud laugh at Chris’ distress.

“Oh, you think that’s funny?” Chris asks.

“Mhm,” Lila says, attempting to suppress a giggle.

Chris doesn’t even hesitate before he drops the tube of bubbles and starts chasing after the girl. Her giggles so loud, they make you look over from where you’re making plates of food.

A soft smile overtakes your face as you watch them run around, your smile widening when Chris grabs hold of Lila and starts tickling her, making her giggles somehow get louder.

“Mercy! Mercy! M’sorry for laughing at you!” Lila squeals out. Chris surrenders and places the girl down on the bench of her picnic table, then sitting across from her.

“You’re silly, Chris,” Lila giggles. “I’m hungry,” she then whines out.

“Ah, well lucky for you, I’ve come to be your savior,” you say, placing a plastic plate in front of her. You place another in front of Chris before setting drinks down on the table as well.

“Thank you!” Lila shouts, before stabbing her fork into her mac n’ cheese.

“Thank you,” Chris says, smiling at you softly and placing a kiss on your cheek.

“You’re welcome, my love,” you reply, going to sit down before you’re stopped by a small hand.

“Sorry Y/N, but only two people can fit at my picnic table and I want Chris to sit with me,” Lila says looking up at you with an apologetic expression.

You let out a gasp of fake offense, placing a hand over your heart. “I can’t believe this! I’ve been replaced!”

Lila gasps. “No! You can’t ever be replaced! You’re my favoritest! Chris move, you can sit on the grass and Y/N can take your spot!”

You suppress a laugh at this. Chris takes it all in stride though, and moves to sit on the grass and you take his spot.

“So I’m taking it you like Chris then?” You ask Lila, taking a bite of your food.

“Oh yeah! I hope you keep him around, he’s real fun! And silly!”

“Yeah. Yeah he is, isn’t he? I hope he sticks around for a long while too,” You say looking at Chris softly.

He reaches over and grabs your hand, interlocking your fingers, resting them on the bench. “I will,” he assures.

[sturncrazy]

SPLASH

Matt Sturniolo x y/n (fem)

warnings: SMUT nsfw 18+(um lang, y/n receiving, unprotected, cream pie —assume ur on bc—-semi public/sneaky, nothing too crazy)

authors note: AW ITS KINDA CUTE GUYS. here’s the other matty poo idea i had since y’all seem to eat him up always hehe.

summary: you join some of your friends on a trip to get over a breakup and end up having a heart to heart talk during a late night swim with matt….but talkings not all you end up doing…

word count: 3,431w

—————————————————————————

“hey y/n get your suit on! we’re gonna swim!” nick said, peering in through your half opened door.

“mkay” you nodded back, forcing a smile. it’d been a split second decision to force yourself to join your friends on this trip. Nick had suggested you come to try and get your mind off of things. you and your boyfriend had broken up only 2 weeks ago, after you found him cheating on you. it’d been a long time coming and had almost never been a good relationship, but a breakup is a breakup and you were still reeling from it. you pulled out a stringy bikini, then threw an oversized t shirt on top. the house you were staying at was large and out in the middle of nowhere. the pool was a significant distance behind the house which gave it a cool secluded feel during the day, but at night the walk alone was a little eerie. you fears washed away though as you got close enough to see your friends splashing around and their laughter became audible, only lit by the purple pools lights. it brought a smile to your face and you felt genuinely happy for the first time in a while. you and your friends hung around together for a couple hours, getting late into the night when chris decided he was hungry and needed a snack. the nearest convenience store was about 20 minutes away and would be closing soon so chris and the 3 of others decided to do a junk food run, leaving just you and matt. matt had been your friend since 7th grade, but the two of you hadn’t gotten to hang out as much in the last year cause he made your ex so nervous. he was always convinced you had feelings for matt. at one point he might’ve not been wrong, but you’d never tell a soul that.

“ok last chance guys! you want anything?” nick shouted as the others ran back towards the house.

“skittles!” said matt

“oo can you get me some twizzlers?”

“yup!” nick said running off

“think he listened?” matt said wading through the water to the edge where you were sitting, dangling your feet in.

“oh definitely not” you laughed

“you should come in the water! it’s really warm”

“but then when i get back out i’ll be cold” the outside air had dropped enough to feel the slightest of chill of fall.

“so? you can borrow my sweater if you want” said matt sweetly, always a gentleman

“come on! have some fun!” he teased splashing only enough to spray a few droplets on your thighs. you could never say no to him. you stood up and pulled your tshirt over your head. matt looked up at you, his mouth slightly ajar, before he quickly glanced away. you figured he’d zoned out. you cannonballed in, intentionally hitting matt with a wave of water.

“asshole” he laughed, splashing you as you came back up for air. you grinned at him and shook the wet hair out of your eyes and paddled to sit on the pools steps. matt joined and sat next to you. he leaned his arms against the the pools edge, the water only coming up to his mid stomach. you stole a glance at his toned torso and arms, tattoos glistening from the water. his eyes darted back to yours and he gave you a half smile.

“hey, you been okay? i didn’t wanna pry, but i head about the breakup” he said with concern

“oh…yeah. i’m okay i guess” you sighed

“he’s a real dick, y/n. i mean really. such an asshole. i wanted to kill him” you snorted

“you and me both” matt was on a roll in his rant and barely seemed to notice your comment

“i mean he has some fucking nerve treating you like that. you deserve like the best of the best and the fact that he didn’t didn’t see that—“

“aww matt” a warm fuzzy feeling spread over your skin at his words. he snapped back into remembering your presence and gave you a bashful look.

“i just think you deserve someone who treats you right. so good riddance to him” he said, splashing at an invisible presence off in the distance, trying to play cool. it was an adorably dorky move.

“thank you, matty” you said softly. he paused, and looked you intensely in the eyes.

“yeah always” he breathed out. the tension hung thickly in the night air. you turned your face away from his, hoping it would dissipate.

“and not that it matters, but i remember back in middle school when everyone was playing truth or dare, all the girls made fun of him for being a bad kisser” matt said, attempting to lighten the mood. it worked and you let out a laugh.

“yeah trust me, kissing wasn’t the only thing he was bad at”

“oooooo really” matt said grimacing. you nodded and dramatically shivered at the thought.

“yeah, honestly, don’t think there was a single time i wasn’t on top doing all the work. he’d sorta just lie there…like a corpse. and y’know…second he was done that was that. maybe 2 minutes each time.” matt’s jaw dropped

“whaaaat” you laughed as you glanced at your hands under the water, feeling nervous about talking about this with matt.

“that’s crazy. half the fun of sex watching the other person enjoy it” you felt your face flush as you raised your eyebrows at him

“what?” he chuckled back at your surprise

“nothing, i’ve just never heard you talk like that before” matt rolled his eyes playfully

“yeah well much to your surprise i have had sex before, y/n”

“well i know that…”

“just didn’t think i’d be good at it” he cut you off, teasingly. your face turned from flush to beat red, making you thankful for the dim lighting.

“hey, i wouldn’t be one to judge” you shrugged out, suddenly feeling painfully aware of your lack in experience.

“what do you mean?” matt questioned

“just…he was the only person i ever…y’know” you sheepishly avoided the words.

“had sex with?” matt filled in for you. you nodded and scrunched your face. he studied you for a minute.

“so you’ve never had good sex?” he asked, quietly. you felt so exposed you might as well have been naked.

“‘guess not” you mumbled avoiding is unwavering gaze.

“have to wait around for the next boy” you snickered to yourself

“isn’t that a bit of a gamble?”

“well what are my other options i mean youre the only guy i know who probably any good at sex—“ matt’s eyes widened. you slapped your hand over your mouth, panic beginning to settle in.

“oh my god—sorry—i—that came out wrong—i didn’t mean like you and me—like you need to show me—shit” matt just continued to look at you, his eyes burning holes into your skull. you buried your face in your pruning hands.

“well, why not” matt rasped out. you peaked through your fingers at him, his expression looked blank, but his chest rose rapidly, nervously. you dropped you hands.

“what” you almost whispered. he took a steadying breath.

“i said why not.” you tried to breath, but no air seemed to be available.

“what do you mean” matt gnawed at his lip before speaking again.

“i mean that you deserve to only feel amazing and i don’t want you to go around experimenting with more assholes and—“

“matt, i’m not gonna let you have pity sex with me” you scoffed out, embarrassment itching your whole body.

“that’s not what i meant y/n” he said in a hushed voice. you continued to babble over him.

“i mean i know you’re the nicest guy ever, but come on even you have to know you don’t have to fuck me to protect me from other bad guys—“

“i dont want you to fuck other guys at all” he sounded exasperated. you gave him a lost look. he exhaled, looking up at the sky for invisible answers.

“you don’t?” he looked back into your eyes, you felt like your heart could melt.

“of course not, y/n” your heart raced.

“okay” he furrowed his brow

“okay what?”

“okay yeah— i mean let’s—“ you inhaled, pulling yourself together and met his gazed

“i want you to show me” his chest rattled again.

“yeah?” he breathed out. you nodded, rapidly. he moved closer to you, your faces now inches apart. his eyes darted down to your lips. he smiled, and looked back up into yours, as one hand gently wrapped around your waist.

“okay” he rasped out as he brushed his nose against yours. he seemed to revel in the tension between you, before bringing his soft warm lips against yours. the kiss was passionate, but still delicate. it sent electricity through your chest and down to your fingertips. he brought his other hand up to your check and jaw, molding your faces together even more. matt pulledl his lips away from yours momentarily to whisper out

“you can touch me, y/n” you only then realized your arms had been cluelessly frozen by your sides. you eagerly brought them up around matt’s neck, immediately changing the tone of the kissing to something much more heated. he let out a sharp breath into your mouth before moving to come between your legs, both hands now grasping your waist. he pulled you closer and you wrapped your legs around his body, gripping into his hair. he let out a small groan against your lips and squeezed at your flesh in his hands. you sighed out at the feeling, opening your mouth against his which he took as an opportunity to slip his tongue against yours. your mouths locked together perfectly, as your hands begin to move from his hair to explore his chest, your fingertips roaming the skin of his body you’d only ever dreamed of getting to touch. you lowered your nails to just beneath his bellybutton, which elicited a genuine moan from him. you smiled against his mouth

“where did you learn that” he grumbled

“i have have a couple tricks” you said coly

“oh yeah?” he said between soft quick kisses

“so do i” he bit down lightly on your bottom lip, pulling with his teeth as he brought your hips up against his. you whined feeling him press against your bikini bottoms. he chuckled at your pathetic reaction and pushed your hair back from your neck. he lowered his lips down to the sensitive newly exposed skin and began to sloppily kiss a trail from your jaw to your collarbone, then began sucking and biting at your flesh.

“fuck” you moaned out, your eyes rolling back. you grasped at his taught upper arms.

“you like that?” he groaned against your skin, setting it ablaze with vibrations.

“yes” you sighed out, bucking your hips slightly against his, desperate for more than just the grazing pressure of him standing against you. he seemed to understand your every need and hooked his fingers through the flimsy ties of your bikini and pulled you harshly against him. you felt a hardness in his shorts pressing against your core and your mouth practically watered. his hands trailed back up your body and to your back where your top tied together.

“this okay” you nodded and pulled him back in against your mouth, not wanting to waste a moment for words away from his lips. he expertly untied the knots and slipped the clinging wet fabric of your chest, leaving your boobs exposed to the outside air. he tossed the fabric on the ground behind you as he looked down at your heaving chest.

“god” he groaned out, his eyes widening as he brought his hands to your boobs and pawed at the the soft flesh. he ran his thumbs delicately across your nipples watching you, as you tossed your head back in a moan. he slipped his hands behind your back again, bringing your bare skin flush against his

“you’re so beautiful” he huffed against your lips. you began to rock yourself back and forth against his blatantly obvious hard on, desperate to build some friction. he wrapped one arm around your thigh and lifted you up to the top dry step of the pool, completely taking you out of the water except for your calves. matt lowered himself down to his knees a few steps bellow you, and began to kiss your knees and inner thighs. your legs quivered, as your core ached for attention. his wide blue eyes looked up at you, his mouth only inches away from where you needed him most, as his fingers hooked to the sides of your swimsuit.

“can i?” he mumbled against your skin.

“please” you whined out. he pulled at the loose bows, undoing the flimsy cover easily. you lifted your hips for him to slide the fabric from between your legs. he parted your legs with his hands, his pupils dilating to blackness as he took in the sight of you entirely exposed.

“so perfect” he sighed almost in a trance

“matt—“ you whined desperate and impatient. he looked back up at you with a half smile

“don’t worry baby, i’m gonna make you feel so good” his words alone could’ve made you come undone. he wrapped his arms around your thighs, holding you in place as he brought his warm wet mouth against your aching clit. he gently kissed at the bundle of nerves, making you thrust your hips up against his face hungry for more. he responded by beginning to drag his tongue in painfully slow circles around your clit.

“oh god—matt-“ you cried out, your fingers latching into his hair for support. he groaned against your sensitive bud.

“y’taste so good” your thighs squeezed his face as he began to move his tongue faster, flicking it it circles around your clit.

“oh fuck— that feels so good—“ you exhaled. one of his arms loosed it’s grip

as he brought his fingertips down to meet your folds. he broke his tongue away from your clit and rested his scruffy cheek against your inner thigh as his watched his own fingers drag up and down your dripping folds. you whined in torture and he brought his pointer and middle finger to your entrance pressing small torturous pulses against it, but not entering or giving you the fullness you needed. you were a mess at his touch, whining, moaning, and thrashing around, but he seemed to savor every minute of watching you. finally, he slipped his finger into your core and you cried out at the feeling.

“so pretty” he whispered again before starting to pump his digits in and out of you over and over, his fingers curving up expertly. the tension in your stomach began to form almost immediately. matt needed no clues in knowing what you needed and lowered his tongue back to your clit. your walls began to pulse around his fingers. you knew you were close.

“oh god—matt-i—“ you began to stutter out

“good girl. cum for me” he cooed. you fell apart with his permission and came undone. your legs stuttered as your high began to end and matt slipped his fingers out of you. he lifted himself back up to your level, leaning against the ledge behind you and kissing you again.

“see how good you taste” he said against your lips

“matt” you giggled slightly shocked against him, starting to close your legs. his grip latched back down on your thighs, stopping you.

“oh i’m not done with you yet” he growled through a slight smile, as he hoisted you up into the air. your wrapped your legs around him, as he carried you away from the pool to a nearby lounge chair. he laid you down on your back and climbed on top of you, between your legs. he pressed his still covered crotch against your exposed vulnerable entrance. you hissed, still sensitive from your recent orgasm. he stopped and pulled back from you

“you okay?”

“yes just sensitive” you let out a breathy laugh

“do you want to stop” the overwhelming look of concern in his eyes was adorable

“are you kidding me?” you said, wrapping your legs around him tightly, bringing him back down on top of you.

“thank god” he exhaled. you laughed as you began to kiss him again, rolling your hips up against him. he whimpered. you dragged your fingernails up his back and dug in slightly at his shoulders. he groaned again. the sound of him wanting you was enough to make you desperate all over. you continued to run your fingernails down his chest and to his waistband, snapping the elastic against his skin slightly. his stomach tensing at the feeling.

“take these off, matty” you whined.

“whatever you want” he pulled off from you and stood to the side, sliding off the shorts.

his rock hard dick sprung out free from the fabric and slapped against his stomach. your jaw opened slightly as your eyes took in the impressive size of him in front of you.

“what?” he chuckled

“youre so big” you said in genuine awe

“fuck you don’t know what you’re doing to me” he said, climbing back on top of you and needily yanking your legs up around him. the tip of his hard member rubbed against your clit as he continued to grind his hips against yours through your makeout.

“matt—“ you whined again, needing more.

“you sure you want to do this?” he asked looking into your eyes.

“yes matt—i want you so bad” you moaned to him

“fuck i’m all yours, baby” he said kissing you again, as he began to align himself with your entrance. he pushed himself inside you slowly and shuddered against you once he was all the way deep into your core. he paused for a moment, letting you adjust to the extreme stretch before beginning to slowly thrust in and out and in and out of your pussy. the stretch and fullness of him made you cry out sounds like you’d never made before.

“fuck you feel so good. such a perfect tight little pussy” he huffed out between his calculated thrusts.

“oh god matt”

“taking me so well baby” he cooed

“shitt-feel so good inside me, matty”

“yeah? you like when i fuck you like this, huh baby?” he breathed against your ear, burying his head into your neck.

“so fucking much—oh god yes—faster”

“okay beautiful” he began to pick up the pace of his steady thrusts and you thought you’d see stars. each thrust of his dick equally hard and timed out as he slammed against your g spot. you clawed at his back desperately, which only seemed to encourage him to pick up his pace to an impossibly faster speed. you slurred out curses in between pornographic moans as your mind became a total blur. you could feel your second orgasm approaching.

“OHHH FUCK MATT YES”

“fuck you sound so good moaning my name like that y/n”

“MATT OH GOD IM GONNA”

“you gonna cum for me again, baby?”

“YES OH MY FUCK”

“be a good girl and cum all over my dick” your eyes blurred with tears of pleasure as your ears buzzed and your second orgasm took control of your body. matt let out an uneven moan as your walls rapidly pulsed around his cock.

“fuck—squeezing me so good—shit—i’m close—“

“mmmm” was all you managed to moan in response as he began to trust into you wildly and unsteadyily

“oh my fuck baby i’m gonna cum”

“cum matt—i wanna feel you cum” you panted

“OHH MY OH FUCK FUCK IM GONNA CUM NGHH IM CUMMING” the groaned out as he halted his thrusts deep inside you, shooting hot white ropes of his release into your throbbing core. he collapsed breathless on top of you. after a moment matt pulled himself off your chest and propped himself up by his forearms.

“have any fun?” he asked sheepishly

“are you KIDDING ME? holy SHIT” you said in total honestly

“not half bad right?” he laughed, reaching for his shorts.

“unreal” he handed you his sweater and leaned back down to kiss you again, but pulled away abruptly

“sorry—was that weird? i don’t wanna make you feel pressured—“ you wrapped your arms around his neck shutting him up with another kiss

“good luck if you think your getting away from me now”

“i wouldn’t dream of it”

—————————————————————————live for sweet matt smut always 🫶

[darlingofvalyria]

❝Daemon doesn't know what to do with you.❞

[ Never piss off your wife. She might acquire a living, breathing punishment for you. Aka, Daemon made a mistake and you're his punishment ft. Rhaenyra stay winning. ]

[ +18 MDNI ] [ 1,985 ] | Daemyra x Sugar Baby!Reader

contains— sugar mommy x sugar baby, open relationship/understandings, toxic relationship??? allusions of cheating, established realtionship - nsfw: oral, p & v sex, v & v sex, pet names mainly: darling, sweet girl, good girl, praise, male masturbation shshhs - you piss the shit outta daemon (as you should), slight angst? - sort of daemon-focused since it's in his pov, but rhae's the only one allowed to touch you lol - no targcest bc its the modern world and that would be weird.

a/n— i dont want to talk about it, okay. comment/reblog/like at will ❤️️

Daemon doesn't know what to do with you.

With your soft noises encouraged to heighten in pleasure whenever Rhaenyra had you over- and after initial test drive of the first few times, stretched in months to weeks to days - she had you over all the time, at random times of the day. Any time the boys or his girls weren't by (being taken care of in the park, Harwin or Laena's visitation rights, Rhaenys wanting to take them off for Corlys weekend fishing trips)- your mewls turned unbridled shouts of pleasure now filled the high-rise.

You permeate the space like a cigarette stain; you didn't even need to be godsdamned present anymore. It starts with your perfume- it's lighter than Rhaenyra's but heavier in sweetness. Vanille. A touch of it that he's foul to recognise. Lipstick stains on his wife's neck, her blouse, where he can imagine your lips drag and bite and suckle because the kids are too young to understand and it's not like he's not one to leave his own marks, but there's a thunderous boil that drums in his veins when he realises you're leaving your own on his wife.

You fill the nooks and crannies like a plague, and you don't even care about him.

Worse, you taunt him.

And it's not like he could say anything to Nyra.

After all, the two of them had an understanding after he got caught with a minor dalliance of his own. It was a one time thing, and he only got blown, but it was enough for a talking to. A mutual agreement that was really just him pacifying his wife.

He really should have focused on the crooks of how upset she had been, on the gleam in her eyes when he thought she had simmered down. That her fire, though not as brightly lit, was still very much burning.

"You can have any sweet thing that you want, husband, as long as you keep them away from the kids. As long as you keep it quiet and away from me. I do not want the details." Nyra's mouth had curled. He remembered. She took up the space behind him, wine-kissed as she was, her fingers dancing on his shoulders and kneading at the tough centre of the nape of his neck. His eyelids fluttered and he barely heard her next words.

"In return, you will not make a fuss when I take mine, hm?"

Daemon had laughed. He remembered that. A soft, more air than sound laugh.

He took her hand to his lips and smirked up at her. Shark-like. Baiting. Daring. "As you wish, wife. In return, you can tell me all about it."

There was a strong part of Daemon that didn't think she'd actually do it.

Rhaenyra had smiled that smile that reminded him of godswoods and Valyrian necklaces, passed down from generation after generation. A silent vow louder drew from blood.

There was a strong part of Daemon who thought his wife was jesting, making a bluff, a toss of a coin.

Until you arrived with a sweet smile and a tinkling little laugh.

Until he had found his wife with her face buried between your legs, your hands— freshly done nails and glimmering rings, new, he later found out from the bank transcripts — and your back arched, your mouth gaping in a silent scream as you come undone.

It took a minute for you to see him, so stuck in that pleasure that broke and free-fell through you several times because 'Nyra didn't want to let up, calling you her sweet girl, her darling girl, that's it, you can take more, can you? aren't you my good girl?

When your thick lashed-eyes finally met his darkened lilac gaze, lipstick still perfect red, still perfectly plump and moist, your mouth curls into a charming little smile and said, "Oh, hello there."

Rhaenyra looked up, and at the smirk on her face, your spend all around her ruined lipstick and chin— Daemon knew she wanted him to see. Wanted him to know. It's a bullet shot down his spine, straight to his cock. It's a cold thrill and grasped fingers around his throat with rings nestled to make indents.

It's a violent blend of jealousy and lust, and the cocktail emotion rages in him, swirls and punctures.

There is a bite between Rhaenyra and Daemon, a fiery edge that often saunters the edges, crosses a new line. But each time, after each rough push, they come back to one another; a tether of becoming, of pulling taunt. Once again united. They are assured in each other's positions; you can play with anyone but you always come back to me.

Rhaenyra has won this one. She had snapped, pulled, and arose victorious.

But they always come together. And often, enjoyed sharing.

What Daemon forgets sometimes is that he is a younger brother, and really, Rhaenyra was the eldest and the sole eye of her father. When righteous selfishness burns with a petty need to make her husband suffer, it heels hard.

"She is mine, husband," she whispers at the edge of his lips, riding him through a slick, sex-haze after you had left. Her thighs slap against his own, his hands harsh on the indents of her waist as she rode him with no abandon, uncaring for his pleasure this time, selfishness the game this time, but the renewed roughness brought him to the early days of their marriage. That unbridled want, a clash of teeth and skin and raw, burning lust.

There is a growl and a hiss, a moan and a gasp; blood has beaded through bitten flesh and bruises are blooming. This is fucking from the high of a third party dancing on their marriage.

And Rhaenyra's refusal of you to him made him throb.

She had seen him high-strung, plotted him to be harder than a box of rocks, already harshly yanking his tie in anticipation of having his wife and you with your fox gazes and sire song, but Rhaenyra had turned away from him, ignored him, and slapped your thigh before kissing your cheek.

"Come back next time, darling, my husband is home." It was said in a tease, a lighthearted joke between two people he was not a part of, but he knew his wife; recognised the bite. The smugness.

And by god, you were in on it as you thrilled a laugh and slid your gaze to his, undressing and fucking him with your eyes as you bit your lip. Your words are to Rhae, a hand on her cheek and a thumb rubbing at the corner of her lip, but your gaze is devouring him. He wasn't a green boy, but you seemed amused and feral for the hard-line of his manhood. As if you can picture what he would feel like buried deep inside your guts, and enjoyed it.

"Am I just going to be yours then, hm?" you asked amusedly, finally turning to her.

Nyra turned her gaze then, to him, and smirked. "You, I will not share. A fitting punishment, don't you think? Some jewels are meant for one alone."

And you had laughed, the gall of you, taking your bag (new one too,a matching one with his wife) and walking right past him. Your scent- his wife's fucking scent, the smell of her cunt on you and his dick throbbed - devoured him as you left him with a wink and a quiet, "too bad."

You had not even gone inside the elevator of their penthouse before a growl tore through his chest and he had met Rhaenyra's thundering footsteps with his own, their tongues and teeth clashing for dominance, ripping apart clothes, wanting to bury each other in the other's skin.

Now, she reaches her peak with a yell and a full body shudder, her cunt clenching and squeezing, demanding his release, and he jolts with her with a swear of his own, his cum flooding her in thick, sharp bursts.

Even then, as Rhae smiled sweetly, post-peak glow simpering her fire, sweetening her kisses against the side of his face, his neck, running a tongue over the worst of the bruises and bites— Daemon thought, surely, now that his wife had reached post-coital bliss and forgiven him, punishment had been had? That he was free to have you, to play with you?

But no. You were off limits. Hers and hers alone. A punishment that keeps on giving as the echoes of you exist in his life in patterns he was starting to fucking loath.

The scent in the bath- the echo of the warmth of someone having used it recently, someone who wasn't his wife, in the pillows of his living room, the barest smudge of makeup as if your face had been pushed against them. In the snacks and drinks that he, nor his wife, nor their children, particularly like, fill up the corners of his kitchen. The lipstick stains on his wife, the running mill in the bank statements (the new necklaces, new dresses, new fucking lingerie he hasn't seen), and when he had finally had enough, shoving through his own house to talk to his wife that the least she could do while she was fucking you was be allowed to be there, he hears it then—

Your shouts of pleasure falling into sighs into giggles, and when he slows to his marital bedroom, you are there— breathing heavily, alive, real— naked and slicked, a goddess divine, with Rhaenyra inside you in more ways than one, baring her teeth in a victorious grin before falling into a laugh at his face.

"Am I allowed to have him now, is that it?" you ask, seemingly innocent. One of the new necklaces in his statements on your neck and nothing else. Chest moving in shuddering breath having just orgasmed and yelling it.

"Your choice, sweet girl," Rhae purrs, leaning back over your form to run a finger from the valley of your breasts to your stomach to your clit that turns your shudders to an outright jolt, then a sigh, when she starts fingering you in front of him. The squelch is obscene, and Daemon is hard, and he is not a fucking boy but he is starting to hate you as much as he wants to fuck the lazy smirk on your face, pleasure so obviously building once again. Soft sighs, mewls, escaping full, raw lips.

"I kind of... want him to watch a little. Just- ah! Nyra there, please - sit still and pretty." You smirk, giving him a pouty air kiss. The urge to strangle you sings in his blood. Hold you down and fuck you until you're better pliant, sweeter, fucking cooing for him. Fuck the spoil Rhaenyra has ingrained in you away.

You turn to the silver-haired woman on top of you, now on her haunches, pressing a gentle kiss to your clit. She held his gaze as she pressed her tongue flat against before taking a glorious, heavy-gazed lick.

Daemon swallows.

"Is that- ahhh, okay? Nyra, hmm? Please?" You sigh ever so sweetly, kindly. Though you're ridiculously spoiled, you were a good girl, following so obediently. If his cock didn't feel like it was burning to be inside your mouth, he would have revelled in it.

You squirm, turning back to him to hold his gaze while his wife started to fuck you through her tongue and fingers.

Someone up there was taking a piss on him. He pulls out his cock, a grunt and a curse, because fuck it, fuck you in particular— as the two of you continued on while keeping eye contact with him.

He took one step closer and Rhaenyra hissed.

"Whatever you want, baby." Nyra smirks against your pussy as he tugged at himself, teeth bared. "You're his punishment after all."

[lizardsfromspace]

So I guess Film Twitter is apoplectic with rage over some people suggesting they have intermissions in long movies. Not over theaters adding one without the director's consent, but like, at the concept of them

...by which I mean, getting mad at disabled people daring to have complaints. There's a lot of "HAHA are you so STUPID you can't go beforehand? You can't HOLD it for three hours?" and implying you don't deserve to experience art if you can't

And, of course, because Film Twitter is a bunch of insular discourse-addled dipshits, they're tying this...to Marvel. Yes, people are only saying they have health conditions that make sitting still for a three hour movie is because...they're Marvel fans mad at Scorsese, or something?

Why is this complaint new? Well, bc runtimes are ballooning to the levels of the old epic filmmaking days of the 50s-70s. And those movies...had intermissions. Multi-act plays have intermissions. Bollywood films have intermissions. Intermissions were literally just abandoned so studios could cram in more screenings, not out of an artistic ideal. But anyone saying "this would make it easy for me to access this film I want to see" needs to be viciously shouted down and called a moronic, lazy child hating on Scorsese bc of "discourse"

I've seen that meme multiple times and Jesus, look at the bizarre disdain for your fellow human beings embedded in it. You dare still bodily exist during a Martin Scorsese movie? You have a disability I don't? Well, I have no problem just peeing beforehand and not buying popcorn or a soda (you should really just sit their quietly until it's done, when you can pull out your phone to log it on Letterboxd), so what's your problem?

Calling people who are into non-blockbuster films "film bros" is mostly untrue, but man, the hardcore Film Twitter types unambiguously check every box. They're certainly dismissive of anyone outside their little box; extremely insulting, in fact, of how anyone who disagrees with them even slightly must be a Marvel-addled hysterical artless moron. Because nothing says "artistic appreciation" like preemptively calling analysis of a movie's choices "discourse" ("Ugh, I can't believe the DISCOURSE about how a movie portraying a morbidly obese man portrays obese people" - what should they talk about, then, if the movie's subject is instantly off the table?) They think the idea that someone out there may have a disability that prevents them from sitting in one place for three and a half hours is a laughable thing made up by the internet; or when people pointed out that a movie only getting one or two screenings a city may be inaccessible to working people, and these bloggers and podcast hosts dunked on the idea that working class people may like art as a hilarious, made-up thing.

I don't know, maaaaaaybe classing the life experiences and complaints of anyone who isn't you as "discourse" and presuming it's made-up kvetching about nothing as a matter of course is bad, cruel nonsense, actually?

[chrissturniolosbiggestslut]

Can we get a tooth-rotting chris x reader, just them having a super cuddly morning, like them waking up cuddly and then going upstairs to make breakfast and still being all over eachother??? LOVE YOUUU

— “YOU'RE BOTH INSANELY SOFT"

┌──❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚─┐

thank for the request cutie i love u too! i hope this is good enough chat bc i hate this😔

in which:

you and chris's love language is both physical touch, making your mornings a lot of nothing but cuddling and softness.

warnings: curly-headed!reader i guess but like that's it, insane fluff but a lot of plot, established relationship chris x reader

**NOT PROOFREAD**

└───❀*̥˚───❀*̥˚┘

one thing about you and chris was that you both had a inordinate about of clinginess inside of you. not a moment went by where one of you wasn't touching the other in some way. you adored it, how you and chris shared the same love language. however many other's didn't; like nick.

seeing as nick was the mother of the group, if you will, he was often in charge of waking everybody up on trips. in doing this, he absolutely despised how difficult it was to get you and chris out of bed. someone was always on top of someone and nobody ever wanted to get up.

"y'know i really wish that the two of you weren't such a fucking pain in the ass to wake up!" nick shouted through the room, ripping the cover from on top of you and chris.

chris twisted atop of you, wrapping his arms tighter around your torso and snuggling his head into your stomach. "that sounds like a you problem, nick," he murmured, eliciting a tired giggle from you as your hand made it's way into the boy's hair.

nick groaned, "i hate you! both of you!"

"no you don't," you smiled.

nick only deadpanned, staring at you. "yes. i do."

you both rolled your eyes as nick walked away, making his way to the bathroom where matt was getting ready to also start getting ready.

you stretched out a little, ruffling chris's hair one last time. "baby, we should really start getting ready. we can sleep some more in the car if you want?"

the brunette shook his head. "no. wanna stay here with you," he muttered.

you only blinked. "chris we have to leave the room and get breakfast anyways, we might as well just speed things up. please, love, for me?"

at hearing the last bit, chris's eyes opened, looking up at you as he adjusted himself to look up at you. he sighed, "fine. but only because you look really pretty.

you stared at the boy, knowing that your curls were tucked into a bonnet and your lips were most definitely chapped. "sure, sweetheart. now c'mon lets go."

chris groans, a pout taking up his face as he rolls off the bed so you can get up.

after about an hour or so, you and all of the triplets are ready for the day. the four of you make your way downstairs to catch the hotel breakfast.

on the walk to the elevator, chris rushes to your side, grasping your hand in his. you smile, looking up at him. he only smiles back.

you hear a gagging sound behind you, catching your attention. you soon realize its only nick pretending to hate you and chris's relationship.

"you guys are so fucking gross i hate you both!" he whines.

chris rolls his eyes, "nick your just mad as fuck that every man you've ever been attracted to was fucking straight and you're single. so shut the fuck up.

your hand clasps your mouth as you glance at matt, making sure you both just heard the same thing. "oh shit," you whispered.

"y'know what chris-" nick shouts, preparing to go off on chris.

matt grabs his shoulder, "nick! shut your fucking mouth and keep walking. its like 9 am i don't think the whole floor wants to hear this."

"yeah you big fat beast! shut your damn mouth," chris taunts, a smirk on his face. your lips curl as you remove your hand from chris's, slapping his arm with it. "ow!' he shouts dramatically, clutching his arm.

"stop being mean to nick," you scold, walking side by side with him, your arms now crossed.

his arms flail, dropping on his thighs, "of course you're defending nick over me! me! your own boyfriend of over a year."

"and nick's my best friend of over 10 years, i think he takes the fucking cake," you giggle.

chris huffs, his arms now crossed as well. "this is racism," he murmurs to himself.

"what was that?!"

"nothing!"

you and the triplets now sat on a few couches downstairs, enjoying your breakfast and talking amongst each other.

as you're talking to matt, you feel a head on your shoulder and a few curls tickling your face and mouth. you look down, seeing no other than chris.

"hey baby," you greet him, wrapping an arm around him and scratching his back as you continue talking to matt.

chris whispers in your ear, "are you still mad at me?"

you smile slightly, watching as matt's eyes roll at how many times your conversation has been interrupted by your boyfriend.

"love i was never mad at you, i just wish you'd drop the fucking attitude."

he frowns, "i was just hungry..." he excuses, looking at you with doe eyes and dilated pupils. he now smiles, "you're so pretty."

"you're pretty too, baby."

his smile grows. he continues to pick at his food, not lifting his head from your shoulder once. you could tell he was still a bit drowsy, so you weren't too hard on him about his attitude.

"have i ever told you how much i love you. its like you were literally made for me baby!"

you smile softly, "i know, i love you too."

"EW I CAN'T STAND THIS!" nick shrieks, "YOU'RE BOTH SO INSANELY SOFT AND IT DISGUSTS ME!"

"maybe try crying about it?" you retort jokingly, you and chris laughing uncontrollably as you watch nicks jaw drop to his feet.

"this is unbelievable."

[wicchyy]

—0.4 snow & bubbles ; james potter

sum: snow, foam, steam, bubbles - you and James share a moment in the hot tub / bestfriend!James

warnings: none rly

notes: best friends James again bc I’m obsessed w them. they’re practically dating but it’s okay

You knew exactly how many rooms Sirius had in his family cabin. 2. His parent’s room and the one that belonged to him and his brother. The cabin hadn’t been used by his family for years since they had a falling out. Sirius had the key, and it turned into a winter tradition that the four of you took part in.

James, Remus, Sirius, and you. Sirius offered a few nights to wind down at his cabin before you’d all continue to celebrate Christmas with the Potter family. Every year, Sirius and Remus took his parents room that had the plush king sized bed and amazing view, which also had a fireplace of their own.

While you and James shared Sirius’ room. You didn’t mind it really. Not when you and James had been best friends for so long, sharing a room, a bed, and a shower felt all too natural.

Your other two friends had a hard time believing you and James were only best friends. They’d seen you cuddling together, sleeping together, hell they’d even been in encountered you both at this moment.

…

It started with Sirius wanting to have a relaxing evening. He’s set the toggles on the hot tub at the back of the cabin. Put some light foam in and made two cups of hot cocoa for himself and Remus to enjoy. Then, Sirius had distracted himself with snogging around with Remus around the cabin that he’d ultimately forgotten about the romantic gesture he’d set up for his boyfriend.

The window from his parents room had provided a clear view of you and James. James in nothing but his swim shorts and you in your white bikini enjoy on the very tub that he’d adjusted for his own comfort.

James was already inside, stretching his legs out and holding a hand out for you to grab as you slowly walked down the short 3 steps to join him in the hot water.

Steam was coming out of the tub and the jets were making you even warmer. The instant breeze of the snowy winter air no longer affected you.

You were tucked warmly in a foamy tub with your best friend, James. He looked over at you in admiration, not helping himself with the thin material of your choice of a bathing suit. He wanted to reach out and tug at the strap on your shoulder, but you had interrupted him by putting a hand on his bare chest.

“I love winter. Do y’know that this is my favourite season, Jamie?”

James smiles and pulls your hand closer to his lips, pressing a light kiss on it. Just things that best friends do with each other.

“I know, sweetheart. You’ve said it a bunch of times on our way here and when you took photographs of me in the snow with your muggle camera.”

“Right. I did that.”

“I still don’t understand why the pictures won’t move, though. Is it the unadvanced technology or muggles simply like the way things are, boring.”

You leaned your head on his shoulder, “Well, James. I’m not quite sure but I think I’ll go with both.”

“Hm.” He hummed, a hand wrapping you even closer. James let his head fall gently atop you, a sign that let you know he wanted your fingers to mess around with his curls.

You wrapped your hand around his shoulder too, your palm connecting with his head and instead of playing with his hair, you dumped water atop him. “Honestly, Jamie you couldn’t have not expected me to do that.”

James’ laughter filled your ears, clearly having the upper hand as both of his hands kept you in place while he shook his head towards your face. Foam and water splashed at you and you couldn’t help but join in on his delirious laughter.

“Oh, James!” You shouted, trying to get out of his grasps but realizing that he only tugged you harder into the water.

When you surfaced up, your cheeks were hot and foam covered the top of your head. “Sorry, sweetheart. Should’ve known the consequences.”

“Christ I really can’t enjoy a peaceful evening with you.” You poked his chest, a small smile playing at your lips.

James pulled your face closer with one of his hands, his lips making haste of a cheek kiss on you. At the same time, your hands gripped his shoulder to attempt another splash in the foamy water but your body was pulled closer by James’ other hand to put you atop his lap.

“Hello, there.” He smiled up at you. His hand was still on your hips, fingers grazing dangerously close to the region below your belly button.

“Jamie. C’mon let me off.” You didn’t really want to be let off his lap. But you had the intrusive thoughts knocking at your brain that reminded how you were straddling him basically. You didn’t want to go out of the boundaries of your friendship. You didn’t want James to be uncomfortable.

“Just a moment, please.” He pointed those beautiful hazel eyes at you he knew you loved. “Y’so warm, sweet girl.”

Well. You didn’t dare deny him. He was practically begging for you to be there. And there wasn’t an ounce of awkwardness between you two. Even if you were in a questionable position with your best friend.

“Alright then. Just a few minutes. Siri and Remus can’t see us with all this foam can they?”

“Course not. They won’t be able to see anything.”

Of course it wasn’t the matter of them just seeing, you just didn’t want them to bug you with yet another reason why you and James aren’t purely best friends.

“Y’look so pretty in this thing, y’know.” James grinned, poking a finger into your side to tease you.

“And you .. look fine in your usual swim shorts.” You laughed, lightly pouring on water at his top half so his shoulders weren’t freezing.

“Thanks, sweetheart.” James did the same. His hand scooping water to pour over the skin of your body which wasn’t in the water.

“I’m really looking forward to this week, Jamie. With our friends, with your family.” You sighed comfortably, relaxing your weight atop James.

“Mhm. Me too.” James replied simply. He didn’t know what else to say when he had his beautiful friend sitting on top of him. Talking so softly that his heart was pounding nervously. He was worried he’d say the wrong thing or do the wrong move. He was even more afraid of his lower half possibly waking up and freaking you out. Though he shouldn’t have pulled you in his lap if he didn’t want that to happen.

James’ thoughts were just scattered right now, with the steam and the foam clouding his judgement. All he really knew was he wanted to kiss your lips and pull you closer and closer to him because all he’s ever wanted is to savor every moment with you.

“Jamie!” You pinched his cheek, “You were staring blankly at me. What’s wrong? Am I making you uncom—“

“No!” James rushed to say, “No, no. You’re perfect, sweetheart. Not making me uncomfortable. Not at all.”

“Alright. Is there something wrong?”

He settled his hands on your back, bringing you just a few inches closer to him. “Nothing. I’m also very excited for you to be visiting. Though I don’t think mum will let me share my room with you.” He chuckles.

You roll your eyes, finally deciding to rest your hands behind James’ neck, circling them like you’re in a position to kiss. “Then I guess we’ll have to savor the days you can share a room with me.”

“Believe me, sweetheart. I want to savor every day I can share with you.” James flirts, his heart beating faster. “Here.” He takes one of your hands from the nape of his neck and directs in to his chest where his heart is. “This is the effect you have on me.”

“You have the same on me.” You smiled shyly. James smiled and pulled your face even closer again, this time to press a little kiss on the tip of your nose.

The little moment has you fluttering. This kind of thing, it makes you want to risk the means of your friendship by pulling him and letting your lips land on his.

“And you’re so warm. Y’make me so warm. Can you be my human furnace?” He teases.

“If anything, you’re my human furnace.”

The hot water, the steam, the foam made the moment between you two even special than you’d ever had with anyone else. Your thoughts consisted of James, James, James.

Suddenly, the mood changed as a shout came from behind you. “Hey! Prongs, Y/n! You’re joking!”

“Pads, it’s fine. Christ let them have their moment.” Remus interrupted from behind.

“No! I set this all up for Moony. And now you two shitheads are eating it all up.”

You were quick to roll your eyes and just lean further onto James, hugging him with your hands landing on his shoulders again. “Leave us alone, Pads.” James groaned, his hands traveling to your back.

“If you both don’t get up, I’m jumping in.” Sirius demanded. Which, he unsurprisingly did. Making quick work of his clothes until he was left with his boxers on.

You snicker as you heard Sirius make his way into the hot tub. Leaning onto James’ left side so you could see Sirius’ angry face side eyeing the both of you, the position you were in.

“You’ve got to be actually fucking with me. I’m so angry right now, but the water is so relaxing.”

James chimed in, “I know. Now shut up. Moony! Get in, already. We’re having a friendship moment.” James grinned at his two friends.

Remus didn’t object and did as James said. “Right. A friendship moment, indeed.” He said with a knowing look, making eye contact with you.

“Hm. I’m loving this trip.” You smiled. James looked up at you and pressed another kiss on your cheek, agreeing with what you’ve said.

💌 thanks for reading lovie! support me by reblogging <3

[ilwonuu]

hi! can u req a joshua fluff (with smut haha) in which shua will surprise wife!y/n on her bday but y/n has bigger news (🤰).. thank u 🩷🩵

omg yes!! i love this idea sm!! THANK YOU FOR YOUR REQUEST💖💖

▸ ִֶָ ⊹all for you. h. jisoo

summary- your husband wants to make your birthday the most memorable birthday you have ever had. he surprises you with a beautiful date night. but you have a bigger surprise;)

warnings- fluff with plot, smut with plot, lots of love (ew), pregnancy sex, unprotected sex, pet names(honey, my love, reader calls joshua shua a lot), dirty talk, oral fem receiving, breeding kink kinda???, creampie, lots and lots of affection, hoshi is mentioned a few times, happy marriage, lmk if i missed anything 😘

authors note- i made this way longer than i intended it to be bc i kinda got carried away. i hope there isn’t too many typos since i haven’t proof read it yet and stuff anyways thank you for reading<3

joshua always would go all out for your birthday. he would do anything he can do make sure you had the best day ever. you never had any worries about your birthday but this one was a little different. you had something important to talk to him about. it was that you guys are going to be parents. you know he will be happy with the news but there is a voice in the back of your head saying that this might ruin your birthday. you love your husband and he loves you but we’re you guys ready to have a baby?

you roll out of bed around 10 am seeing your husband is nowhere to be found in the bedroom. making your way to your bathroom to wash up. “shua?? where are you?” you yell loud enough for him to hear from the bathroom. “honey im in the kitchen! im making you breakfast in bed so go lay back down.” he says shouting back. you smile at his words complying with what he asked you to do. getting back into your shared comfy bed.

joshua comes into not to late after you do with a plate of pancakes, bacon,fruit, and your favorite coffee he makes for you. “happy birthday my beautiful wife. you deserve the world.” he says setting your food down on the table next to you bending down to pull you into a sweet kiss. “thank you shua. i really appreciate you.” you smile at him and grab your food. “and i love you so much. i have so many things planned for you today. you feeling up to it?” he asks sitting next to you on your bed. you nod eating your food. “i love you too.”

he kisses your cheek and steals a piece of your bacon. “can i have this?” he asks taking a bite. “shua you’re already eating it.” you laugh at him taking another bite of your pancakes. “i did good on this bacon. it tastes so good.” he smiles at you and kisses your face all over. “okay my love i was thinking we could go shopping a little bit and then we can come back and watch a movie then i can make you dinner. or we can go out to eat. whatever you would like honey.” he says giving sweet kisses against your neck. “mm that sounds so nice shua. you are too sweet to me.” you finish your food turning to pull him into a hug. “you deserve it beautiful. wanna go back to sleep for a little longer or should we start getting ready?” you get under the covers. “definitely more sleep.” you say pulling him to cuddle you. “of course honey. rest all you want we can get up when you want.” he say kissing you before closing his eyes nuzzling his face into your neck. you two both falling asleep tangled in eachothers arms.

—

you wake up a few hours later shifting slightly seeing a still asleep joshua. kissing his forehead slightly before heading to the bathroom. quickly peeing before coming back into your bed room. “mm honey are you ready to get up?” he says still with his eyes closed. “yes i am if you are shua.” he finally opens his eyes stretching slightly smiling at you. “okay honey we can shower real quick then we can leave to do your shopping.” you nod making your way to the bathroom with him slowly following behind you. shutting the door after you both. “come here my love.” he says pulling you into a hug kissing you softly. “you look so beautiful today honey. i can never get bored of looking at you.” he kisses down your jaw making his way down your neck. “mm shua that was cheesy.” you laugh moving your head a little so he can have a better angle. “you love it tho.” he lifts you to sit on the sink smiling at you while he pulls off his shirt. “you smell so good. i bet you’ll taste even better.” he smiles pecking your lips again. “can i?” he asks rubbing your thigh slightly. “hm can you what shua?” he laughs. “can i eat you out? i really want to make you feel good. then we can take a shower hm??” you nod slowly.

he smiles at you before kneeling in front on you slowly pulling your shorts and panties down in one quick movement. “my love you’re soaking. what have you been thinking about?” he looks up at you kissing your inner thighs. “y-you. i want you shua pl-“ he cuts you off by licking a long stripe up your slit humming against you. causing you hands to immediately go to his hair. “o-oh shua feels so good.” he smirks against you slowly inserting his tongue inside of you fucking it into you slightly. you tug on his hair slightly rougher this time throwing your head back in pleasure. “holy shit shua. p-please don’t stop.” and he doesn’t he continues his movements looking up at you through his eyelashes. slowly bringing his finger up to rub your clit. he is moaning into your pussy sending tingles down your spine. he is lost in eating you out. his face now having your arousal all over it.

his dick is now rock hard in his shorts as he watches your face change more and more with the pleasure he is giving you. “shua im gonna c-cum!” he continues watching you rubbing your clit faster feeling you clench around his tongue. you immediately release on his tongue moaning his name. he licks up all you cum before standing up and smiling at you. “i can never get enough of that my love. you taste amazing.” you still trying to catch your breath before moving to stand up. he pulls you into a sweet kiss. “see? you are so sweet.” he kisses your cheek. “lets shower hm?” he smiles before pulling both of your clothes off starting the water for the shower.

—

“shua i’m all ready to go!” you say making your way to your living room where he is waiting. he smiles at you. “you look beautiful honey. lets go.” he grabs your hand leading you guys out of the house and to his car.

the car ride to the mall was filled with you two singing the music that you wanted to play. “okay we have arrived!! lets go in.” he smiles getting out of your car making his way to your side to let you out. “my love.” he smiles grabbing your hand. “my shua.” you say laughing. “what store do you want to go in first?” he says as you two are hand and hand making your way into the mall.

—

what you didn’t know is that joshua had a surprise for you. he has asked the guys to help set up your house for the perfect movie and dinner night. and thats why he had you guys leave a little early to go shopping. joshua is somewhat nervous something will go wrong. causing him to be paranoid sending soonyoung a text.

joshua- are you guys almost done? y/n is getting tired of shopping she wants to come home soon.

soonyoung- yes! we have a few more things to do for your room like you asked and then we’ll be leaving.

joshua- oh thank god. thank you thank you. i appreciate you guys helping i owe you.

soonyoung- no problem. we love y/n she deserves a good day!!

joshua- love u😘

soonyoung- love u too 😨

soonyoung- tell me how she likes it!!!

“joshua? who are you texting?” you say smiling at him and his focused expression. “just soonyoung. him and the guys say happy birthday.” you make a sweet expression. “aw thats sweet. tell them i say thank you and that i love them.” “will do my love.” he smiles putting his phone away. “okay i’m thinking one more store then we can leave okay honey?” he says smiling before walking into another store with you.

—

soonyoung- we just finished! good luck bro tell me how it goes

“okay my love you ready to go?” you nod quickly. “please my feet hurt.” you say laughing as he puts you on his back running to the car. “joshua im heavy you better not drop me!” he laughs at you. “first of all you are nowhere near heavy and i would never drop my beautiful wife okay?” you roll your eyes at him. “you’re being so cheesy today.” he puts you down as you make it to the car. “once again i know you love it.” you scoff looking away from him. “okay maybe a little bit. but only a little!!” you say as he opens your car door for you. “come on my love lets get you home.” he says quickly starting the car to head back to your house.

you two arrive back noticing his mood changing slightly to a more nervous one. “you okay shua?” he smiles at you. “of course i just want you to have a good day.” “shua i am having the best day ever. you are treating me so well do not worry.” you rub his back. “i always worry because you deserve the best y/n.” “you are the best shua. you are the sweetest person i could ask for. you never have to worry you always make me feel so special.” you pull him into a kiss. “come on love lets go inside.” you say getting out the car following him into your house.

you walk into your home seeing all the rose pedals and candles lit. “joshua you didn’t have to do all this.” you look at him lovingly feeling him pull you in to hug him. “i know honey but like i said you deserve the best. i asked the guys to help with the decorations. do you like it?” he asks rubbing your back softly. “i love it joshie thank you.” he smiles. “okay my love have you decided if you wanna go out to dinner or have me cook?” “mm i don’t really feel like leaving again i would rather stay and have you cook for me if thats okay.” he kisses you sweetly. “of course my love. you hungry now or do you want to wait?” you think for a second. “i’m a little bit hungry now.” he nods kissing your forehead before making his way into the kitchen. “okay well you get comfortable i will start on dinner okay?” you nod smiling at him making your way to the couch.

you loved joshua. he is the best husband you could ever ask for. he was always this sweet. when you guys first started dating he was embarrassed about how much he would do for you. he would go out of his way to see you even when he barely had the time. joshua loved you and he had no doubt that he was gonna spend the rest of his life with you. when he asked you to marry him you were shocked but relieved that he felt the same way about how strong your love is. you had nothing to worry about with him. now you’re feeling a little uneasy. what if he isn’t ready to have kids with you? he knows that you guys have unprotected sex all the time. but sometimes he just doesn’t want to pull out. it was bound to happen right? how do you go about tell him? before dinner? after dinner? tomorrow? you’re all over the place. you took the pregnancy test just a couple of days ago. but last night you took another just to be sure and as they all said you were pregnant.

you turn on your tv pulling you away from your thoughts for a moment putting on a rom com for you and joshua to watch when he is done cooking. you get lost in the movie as you wait for the food to be done. “my love dinner is served.” he says bringing over a steak dinner he prepared. “shua it smells so good. thank you so much.” you smile at him as he sits down with his food next to you. “of course honey you know i’d do anything for you.” he kisses your forehead again before both of you begin to eat. you finish your food rather fast causing joshua to laugh. “you really were hungry hm my love.” he smiles finishing up his food shortly after. you nod moving closer to him.

“what do you want to do now my love? want to watch another movie? want a massage? i can make love to you. the choice is yours.” you shake your head. “actually um..i need to tell you something.” he shifts to look at you. “oh really? whats up my love you look nervous.”

you don’t look back at him. trying to figure out how to tell him. “um well uh i went the store the other night right and i grabbed a few things.” he nods showing you that he is listening to you closely. “u-uh so well i got a few pregnancy tests just to have them. and i took the tests just because i wanted to see what it would say. um joshua i’m pregnant.” he doesn’t take his eyes off you. not know what to say right away. “are you serious? we’re gonna have a baby?” he says immediately holding your stomach looking at you so happily. you nod tearing up slightly. “we’re gonna be parents.” you smile now crying a little bit. “oh my god??? we’re gonna be parents. you’re gonna be a mom! im gonna be a dad??” he pulls you into a kiss. “i love you so much. i cannot believe this. im so happy y/n. i wouldn’t want to experience this with anyone else.” he rubs your stomach softly. “you are gonna be the most gorgeous mommy.” he kisses you and pulls you onto his lap. “i was so nervous to tell you all day. i was scared you were gonna leave me or something when i told you.”

he shakes his head “my love you know i would never leave you in a million years. you’re stuck with me forever.” he kisses you deeply rubbing your side slightly. you start to grind your hips down onto him moaning slightly. “is making love to me still on the table?” you ask smirking slightly. “of course honey whatever you want i will give to you.” he pulls you into another kiss. this one seeming more desperate and rough causing you to moan slightly into the kiss. “mm lets go up to the bedroom so i can do this properly.” he lifts you up and takes you to the room. he lays you down on the bed gently climbing over you. “i can’t wait to see you with your baby bump. you’re gorgeous now but i know im gonna fall even deeper in love with you.” he says causing you to tear up again. “j-jesus joshua you’re gonna make me cry.” he wipes the tear that escapes your eye and kisses you cheek. “don’t cry my love. i mean what i said. you are everything to me. let me show you how much you mean to me.”

he slowly takes off both of your clothing. he trails kisses down your body making you whimper quietly. “mm honey i want to hear you okay? don’t hide from me. you sound so beautiful.” he says before kissing around your neck and chest.

“let me finger you so i don’t hurt you m’kay?” slowly gliding his finger over your slit.

joshua wasn’t huge but he was not anything close to small. you will never get used to how big his dick in no matter how many times you guys have had sex.

he slowly inserts a finger into you moaning as he feels how wet you are. “my pretty pretty girl. you look so gorgeous like this. i wanna look at you forever.”

you moan as he slides another finger into you gently as he kisses your nose. “mm shua please more. it feels so g-good.” your eyes rolling to the back of your head. he complies sliding a third finger into you kissing up your body again. “yea my love? you gonna make a mess on my fingers? do it honey i want you to make a mess for me. can you do that pretty?” he smiles moving some of your hair out of your face. you nod as he curls his fingers deeper inside you. hitting the spot you need him at most over and over. “s-shua i’m gonna cum.” he nods “yea honey? cum for me. i want to taste all of it my love.” he pulls you into a kiss slowly slipping his tongue into your mouth. that brought you over the edge. you clench around his fingers pulling away from the kiss releasing a loud moan. “mm thats it pretty. fuck you’re doing so well.” you immediately cum after hearing those words. he continues to fuck his fingers into you having you ride out your high.

pulling his fingers out shortly after to pull them up to his mouth and suck on them licking them clean. “you taste so fucking good every time. i could eat your cum for every meal if you’d let me.” you laugh at him slightly. “mm i could do the same for you.” he smiles slighting rubbing his dick along your folds. “you ready my pretty girl?”

you nod quickly looking down at where he is rubbing you. seeing he immediately starts pushing in slowly. his head is thrown back and his head is already sweaty causing hair to stick to his forehead. “fuck you are so tight still my love.” he watches you face as your fucked out expression turns into a more fucked out expression. he pushes in all the way bottoming out not beginning to move yet so you can adjust. “you okay honey? you’re taking me so well. “ he doesn’t take his eyes off of you and where you two are connected. “i-i’m okay shua. you can move.” he smiles before pulling out and slowly pushing back in causing him to release a few grunts. “s-shit you’re always so tight. i’m sorry baby im gonna cum so quick.” you just moan as you feel him thrust deeper inside of you.

“you’re so wet my love im sliding right in.” he says with his mouth falling open as he watches how he fucks you. sex has filled the room. the sound of your wetness, skin slapping, your high pitched moans, and joshuas deep grunts. “s-shua harder please.” he doesn’t say another word grabbing your hands and pinning them above your head fucking you deeper and harder. “like this?” he says cursing under his breath again. “y-yes fuck! oh my god you’re so deep shua i cant.” he groans again leaving more kisses on your body.

“you’re taking me so well my love. pretty pussy, pretty girl, everything about you is so. fucking. pretty.” he punctuates the words with a harder thrust each time.

“i’m c-close shua!” he moves his other hand down to open your legs wider. “shit honey me too im gonna fill you up. you want that? want me to fuck another baby into you?” you nod dumbly not being able to respond at this point. “you gonna cum pretty? i feel you clenching around me. feels so fucking good.” he throws his head back again feeling you release your juices onto his dick. “fuck yes my love. cum on my dick. make a mess all for me.” his dick twitches at his own words as he cums deep inside you.

fucking into you slowly as he calms down from his high. he pulls out a little after watching as his cum mixed with yours flows onto the bed. “look at you my pretty mess. fuck honey. you did so well for me.” you nod at him and sit up slightly feeling more cum drip out of you. “let me get something to clean you up my love.” he gets up pulling on his shorts heading into the bathroom to grab a rag. he wets it with warm water before making his way back into your room cleaning you up gently.

“you okay honey?” you hum. “never been better.” he finishes cleaning you up and grabs you a new pair of clothes handing it to you. “here you go honey let me change the sheets then we can lay down.

—

you didn’t realize that you fell asleep after you guys got back into bed after cleaning up. you wake up to see your lovely husband laying next to you. talking on the phone to who you assume is to be soonyoung or seokmin. “yea shes sleeping right now when she wakes- oh shes awake one second.” h shifts to you. “im so sorry honey did i wake you up? you were sleeping so peacefully.” you shake your head and smile. “its okay shua don’t worry.” he nods before pulling his phone from his ear putting it on speaker.

“soonyoung she can hear you say hello.” he says looking at you. “hi y/n!! happy birthday i hope you liked the decorations.” you smiled “yes i loved it so much. thank you guys for helping shua do that for me it means a lot.”

“no problem at all y/n we love you more than we love joshua!” you laugh slightly as you see your husband roll your eyes. “oh soonyoung i can tell you our news now that shes awake i didn’t want to tell you without her.” he is all smiley now excited to tell him what is gonna be in the next chapter of your life. “okay tell me!! are you guys moving into a new house?? what hurry up!!!” soonyoung says causing you both to laugh. “you want to tell him honey?” he says grabbing a hold of your hand. “yea. well you’re about to be uncle soonyoungie!” the line is silent for a second and then there is a loud scream. “Y/N YOURE PREGNANT OH MY GOD.”

“yes we are having a baby.” you smile at joshua to see that he is already looking at you with so much love in his eyes. “that is amazing you guys. im so happy for you. we need to throw a baby shower! got to go i need to start planning this!” he hangs up making you and joshua laugh at him again. he pulls you into his arms. “i love you so much. can’t wait to see you be the best mom ever.” he kisses you deeply not letting go of you for the rest of the night.

[citruswriter]

I FUCKING LOVE THE ANIMALISTIC READER SHIT ANSUSIJASH

Them Finding Out You Have a Partner

Listen with me! ♫♪.ılılıll|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|̲̅̅=̲̅̅|̲̅̅●̲̅̅|llılılı.♫♪

A/N: I'M SORRY HAPPY YOU LOVE MY CRINGY BF SCENARIOS! NAJDKDKDJSJDJ! Get ready for angst ya'll. Reader is in a relationship but it's kind of rocky. Bc obviously we're not gonna stay.

Previous Part

"I don't want you hanging out with them anymore!" Your partner shouted at you. The two of you had been arguing for the past twenty minutes. Why? Well your partner found out about your group chat with the turtles, April, and some others. It wasn't exactly a secret, you never hid the group chat. You saw no need. But apparently your partner had a problem with you texting a bunch of mutant turtles. "But why?!" You yelled back, animal appendages displaying your anger. Your partner growled and stepped forward, causing you to step back. "I don't want you talking to those freaks!" Your partner spat out and your eyes widened. "Excuse the fuck outta me? What's next? You gonna call me a freak too?" You growled back and your partner huffed. "You know damn well that it's not the same damn thing. You're still mostly human. They're not." Your partner said, trying to reason with you. You let out a bitter laugh and scoffed. "Whatever. I love you but I'm headed out. I can't hear another word of this bullshit". You spat out, storming out of the apartment and going out onto the streets of New York. You knew that your partner would attempt to follow you home, so you took a different path and instead headed for the lair. Fuck this shit man.

✧❁❁❁✧✿✿✿✧❁❁❁✧

Leonardo x Reader 🧡

Warnings: Reader is a wolf neko, Reader has golden eyes, Reader has a boyfriend.

Leo had never seen you so pissed. You walked in with a silence he had never seen from you, ears pinned and tail bristling. A growl was resounding from your throat, a primal noise he had never heard from you before. He'd be lying if he said that he wasn't a little bit intimidated. Mikey sprang up to hug you, obviously not picking up on your mood. "Touch me, Michaelangelo, and I swear it will be the last thing you do," you spat out, golden eyes moving to give him the deadliest death glare the poor turtle had ever seen. Immediately he put his hands up in surrender. "Woah! What's up with you? You good?" He asked gently. "Got into a fight with my boyfriend," you said bluntly. Leo struggled to keep his exterior neutral and calm when he heard that word. Boyfriend. Of course you were taken. "(Y/N)," Leo called out to you and your head snapped his direction, glaring up at him as if to silently tell him to not waste your time. "Come mediate with me. It'll help calm your nerves". He didn't expect you to follow him, really he didn't, but he was grateful to see you behind him when he finally reached the meditation room.

He sat down and you followed suit, sitting beside him. "So boyfriend huh?" He started gently, trying to sound as casual as possible. "What's it to you?" You snapped, glaring at him only to soften when he gave a 'don't test me' look. Sighing you rubbed your face and looked up at him. "Yeah. Boyfriend. We've been going steady for about a year now. But recently things have been rocky." You murmured and Leo nodded empathetically. "What did he say that got you so worked up?" He asked. You chewed your bottom lip, fangs slightly slipping out. "He said he no longer wanted me to hang out with you guys. Said you guys were freaks." You confessed. Leo swallowed thickly. He was used to being called a freak. This wasn't new to him. But the idea of you cutting him off because of some bigot made him nervous. "Are you going to do it?" He asked, voice slightly shaky. Your ears pricked up as you looked at him, "Absolutely not! If he thinks I'm going to stop hanging around here, he's dead wrong." Leo only hummed in response. You slouched your shoulders, giving an exhausted sigh.

"I don't know Leo. These past few months, it seems like we've been fighting every single week, if not multiple times a week. He keeps asking me to cut off certain friends for one reason or another. Hell he even asked me to block my dad". Leo wanted to hold you as he saw you anxiously run your fingers through your hair, gripping it in a stressed manner. Instead he opted to gently pull your hands from your scalp, holding them and looking at you, "Forgive me if I'm overstepping but that sounds incredibly toxic." He said softly. You hung your head, ears pinned back in sadness. "I know. It's just... so hard to let go sometimes." You muttered. Tears pricked the corners of your eyes and Leo felt his heart squeeze. He pulled you closer, hugging you. You melted almost instantly, hugging him back. "Thank you..." You whispered. Leo rubbed circles onto your back, butterflies flitting around in his stomach. "Anything for you, blossom".

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Raphael x Reader 🧡

Warnings: Reader is a cat neko, Reader has a girlfriend.

"Raphael!" You shouted as soon as you walked in and this man almost thought about running and hiding from you from how pissed you sounded. You beelined it to the gym room and glared at him. "Yes?" Was all he said as he took in your body language. Pupils turned to slits, ears pinned, claws unsheathed, tail lashing. "I'm absolutely enraged right now. So give me something to hit or lift or something before I punch a wall and inevitably break a few bones," you seethed. "Hear you loud and clear kitten," was all he replied with and boy did he put you to work. Two hours later and you were sweaty and laying on the floor, chugging water as fast as you could. You were still mad but at least you were calmer.

"What got you so worked up? Swear you were boutta kill me". He asked gently, drinking his own water. You sighed softly and looked at him, "Got into a fight with my girlfriend". You explained and Raph almost choked on his water. Girlfriend? Course a pretty thing like you was taken. He felt his heart break but you kept talking. "I mean seriously. I've dated all kinds of people of all genders but she's just a work of fucking art." You spat out, standing up on your wobbly legs to pace. "She saw the group chat and just demanded that I stop hanging out with you guys because, and I quote, 'because they're freaks'. Which is utter bullshit. If anybody's the fucking freak it's her!" You shouted. "So then I asked her if you guys are freaks then what am I? And she said it wasn't the same because I'm still mostly human". You stopped pacing, angry tears streaming down your face and your tail bristled with utter rage. "I don't want to be her stupid fucking exception". You chocked out, hands beginning to shake from the pure unfiltered rage you were filling. Raph knew he needed to calm you down and soon.

"Wanna know my opinion?" He asked and you angled one of your ears his way, silently telling him you were listening. "I think this little girlfriend of yours sounds like shit. If I were you, I'd dump her". You relaxed a little, tail fur now smoothed out and your fists were no longer clenched. You made your way over to the giant turtle and pushed him to sit down before crawling up into his lap. Raph didn't know what to do, not expecting you to pull such a move. "Maybe you're right, Raph..." You murmured, nuzzling into him softly. All the anger must have utterly exhausted you because you could barely move. Raph decided to softly pet you. Soon you were purring against him, halfway dozing off. He couldn't help but stare down at you with adoration. You had come to him so willingly. It was nice to know you found solace in him.

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Donatello x Reader 🧡

Warnings: Read is a moth mutant, Reader has a girlfriend.

You were utterly enraged. Storming into the lair. From the other room, Donnie picked up on your scent. Excitedly, he made his way out to go find you but he was a little too late. Mikey had just begun to ask you what was wrong when you let out a frustrated yell, spun around, and smashed your fist into the wall. "(Y/N)!" Was all Donnie let out. You reared your fist back for another go but luckily the tall turtle stopped you, grabbing your wrist and noticing how you were shaking with pure rage fueled adrenaline. "Come with me," was all he said before dragging you along with him. He picked you up before setting you down on a table in his lab. He got out some medical items to now deal with your busted up knuckles. "Mind telling me what the hell that was out there?" He asked, trying to keep his tone calm. "Got in a fight," you simply said. "With who?" Donnie asks, cleaning your bloody knuckles. "My girlfriend." Donnie's heart jumped into his throat at those words, pausing his actions momentarily before continuing.

"She called you guys freaks..." You muttered and Donnie looked up at you, eyes so soft and caring that your heart couldn't help but melt. You sighed and hung your head. Donnie bandaged up your hand before leaning in to kiss your head. You gave a moth squeak and looked up at him, lip trembling. "I don't like that she called you guys freaks. It hurt my heart. I care about you guys so much, Dee. So much about you." The last sentence came out as a whisper as tears began to roll down your cheeks but he heard you. "Although I appreciate you getting angry on our behalf, please don't punch the wall again." He said gently and you nodded, sniffling softly. "Do you guys fight often?" He asked, prodding softly and you nodded. "Y-Yeah. We do. We didn't at first but it seems like all we do know is either sleep together or fight." You said and Donnie pressed his lips together, noticing how stressed you look.

"That doesn't sound very healthy, (Y/N). Being in a relationship like that could really damage you". He said and more tears spilled over onto your cheeks. He fought the urge to cradle your face. To wipe your tears away and kiss you. To tell you that he had you, that nobody could hurt you now. "Donnie?" Your voice shook him out of his thoughts. He blinked and looked up at you. "Yes dove?" He replied without thinking and he noticed your wings flutter at the nickname. "Thank you for cleaning me up. I appreciate it". You said bashfully. "Of course, (Y/N). Happy to help".

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Michaelangelo x Reader 🧡

Warnings: Reader has white feathered wings, Reader has long elf-like ears, Reader has a boyfriend.

Wings fluffed up in a defensive measure, you briskly walked into the lair, making your way straight to Mikey. "Hey angelcakes!" He called out, not picking up on your mood. "Do me a favor and shut the fuck up," you spat before taking his controller and tossing it aside. He just blinked in surprise as you shoved him arms apart and crawled into his lap, curling into him. Under normal circumstances, he might have pulled away to ask you what was wrong or ask you to please not just snatch his controller away. But as he heard you silently sob into his plastron, all other worries melted away as he wrapped his arms around you and rubbed your back. "(Y/N)? You ok?" He questioned softly and you lifted your head to finally look at him. "No. I got into a fight with my boyfriend." You muttered. Mikey swallowed thickly and he swore his chest felt tight at the word 'boyfriend'. "He just makes me so mad, Mikey. H-He called you freaks a-and I just- I just walked out. I care about him but all we do is fight these days and I hate it." You sobbed out. Mikey took to mindlessly rubbing circles on your left hip. "Well you know what they say," he said with a shrug of his shoulders and you looked at him with confusion.

"If your dog starts barking at you, someone else is feeding it better." You tilted your head, looking up at the ceiling in thought. "Now that you mention it. He has been sneaking around a lot..." You muttered before looking back down into his eyes. "Do you really think he could be... doing something?" You questioned, voice trembling. Mikey shrugged. "I don't know, babes." He replied softly. "Just know that whatever happens, I'm here for you. Ok?" You nodded, smiling softly. "You're too sweet to me, Mikey". You cooed and Mikey swore he felt his heart skip a beat at your tone. "Only because you're sweet, sugartits". He quipped back. You rolled your eyes. "Aaaaaaand there it is," you said with a giggle, rolling off of him and getting comfy on the couch beside him.

He wanted to pick you back up. Settle you back down on his lap, keep you curled up and safe against his chest. Keep you close to him. "Sorry for yanking your controller away, by the way," you said, glancing at Mikey's dead character on the screen with drooped ears. "It's ok baby," he reassured. You enveloped yourself in your wings, but only to hide your flustered face from him calling you baby. He's so cute...

Reader falling in love next? Maybe, maybe. Hope ya'll enjoyed this one. 💋

[irlnorthshaw]

cooltiger fic - extra time

no im not insane. i did not write two fics in one day!! i just found this in my google docs a while ago and never revisited it for some reason. but hey! i polished it up a little and BOOM!! we all need a bit of fluff here and there so i come with my own offering

also massive shoutout to @sharrrrt bc her cooltiger art really inspired me to finally finish this fic!!

Some things in life are better kept under the rug. Not that opening up is necessarily a bad thing, but certain truths have the power to turn everything upside down. In this case, it was a relationship. More specifically, a relationship between two superstar athletes where cameras and the public eye were constant threats. How frustrating would it feel to pull off a grandiose trick with your teammate and not be able to smooch them then and there? On paper, it seemed easy enough. But for Supa Strikas’ very own midfield duo,  Cool Joe and Twisting Tiger, it was a different story– though they’d both agree it was especially hard for the former.

“It’s just hard to not say anything about it,” Joe irritably texted his boyfriend, who sat two rows in front of him on the Strika Bus. A moment later, he heard a distinctive chuckle. “It’s not funny!” Joe texted again, only to receive back a laughing emoji.

Their relationship had started in the most unexpected way. It began when Tiger’s car broke down after a grueling session at the STC, and Joe, always one to help, offered him a ride home. What was supposed to be a short drive turned into a long, mindless cruise through the city, filled with music and deep conversation. That one ride turned into another, then another, until their late-night talks became a habit neither wanted to break. Before Joe knew it, those moments quickly turned into something more, something deeper. That was six months ago, and while sneaking around made things thrilling, it also drove him up the wall. Keeping quiet was never his strongest trait, especially when it came to someone as effortlessly cool and striking as Tiger.

God. His boyfriend was Twisting fucking Tiger!

This was the problem. Joe was a flashy guy. Not as over-the-top as El Matador, sure, but still a straightforward person who wore everything on his sleeve. If he was pissed off, people knew. If he was excited, everyone felt it. And now? Now, he was stuck on this bus next to Klaus, when it should’ve been his wonderful partner. He imagined them sharing earphones, listening to music together, and napping through the whole ride. Instead, he had to settle for drowning his feelings in the playlist they made together.

That peace didn’t last long.

“I think– I THINK I NEED THE TOILET AGAIN!” Klaus practically shouted, jolting in his seat.

Joe put a hand up before Klaus could utter another word. “Nuh uh, go bother someone else this time.”

Klaus pouted but climbed over Joe’s seat anyway, plopping down besides Shakes, who was intensely focused on his game. “Shakes… can you ask Coach to stop the bus? Pleaaaase”

“Again, dude? Why can’t you ask him yourself?” Shakes didn’t even glance up. But when Klaus took a deep breath– clearly preparing to scream– Shakes groaned and threw his arms up in defeat. “Fine. Fine! Coach, can we get a bathroom break?”

The whole bus groaned in unison as they tallied up Klaus’ stops, with Tiger still in the lead.

“Ha! Yes! I knew it would be double digits!” Tiger grinned triumphantly, turning to see Joe’s reaction. Catching sight of Joe sulking, he marked, snapped a picture, and sent a text:

Tiger: don’t sulk so much

Tiger: ur gonna end up like uragiri!

Tiger: get it?... ur gonna end up being old

Tiger sent you a photo.

Joe clicked the notification and let out a small chuckle at the messages.

CJ: I am Joseph Maseko! Even in Uragiri’s age, I’d still look fine as hell

“...Crap, that sounds weird.” Joe cringed at his own text, but before he could overthink it, a fast reply came:

Tiger: of course, i know very well you would ;)

Joe’s heart skipped. His face felt way too warm. He could hear Tiger’s quiet laugh from the front row. All he could do was shake his head, sinking further into his seat.

Again, see, that was what made this so difficult. Tiger knew exactly what he was doing and Joe hated it. Well, he secretly loved it– but it did make his job of “keeping quiet” just extra hard.

"Get it together, Joe," he cursed to himself as the bus slowly came to a halt by a gas station with an attached café. When he looked up, everyone had already rushed to jump out the bus for some fresh air.

“Alright, boys. While we’re here, why don’t we get some lunch?” Coach suggested, only to then realize the bus was empty.

Inside the café, the team found their seats and immediately ordered food to silence their rumbling stomachs. Amidst the chaos, Coach walked in, looking exhausted. Everyone turned to him, suddenly falling silent.

Coach frowned. “Why are you looking at me like that? And why are you… not being annoying?”

“Oh, we just thought you might be pissed at us,” North replied casually through a mouthful of food. Crumbs flew everywhere, making the others recoil in disgust.

Coach sighed. “No, I just had a heated argument over parking, that’s all.”

The team exchanged amused looks, knowing whoever had argued with their coach was probably regretting it by now.

Joe was about to dig into his food when he felt someone nudge his foot under the table. He glanced up, only to find Tiger sitting across from him, a subtle smirk playing on his lips before he looked away as if nothing had happened. In the noisy café, with the team chattering, it was as if, for just a moment, they were in their own little world. The warmth lingered where Tiger’s foot had brushed against his, setting Joe’s nerves alight. He swallowed, suddenly hyperaware of every movement, every glance. Tiger wasn’t even looking at him anymore, but Joe could feel his presence still. Like gravity itself.

Oh, this is killing me.

He busied himself with his food, trying not to stare anymore, but then Tiger stretched– his shirt riding up just slightly. Joe choked on his drink.

“Woah. CJ, you good?” Shakes asked, raising a brow.

“Y-Yeah! Just– uh, wrong pipe.” Joe waved him off, but Tiger was definitely smirking again.

This was gonna be a long meal.

Later, when everyone had eaten and scattered, Joe managed to slip away unnoticed. He found a quiet corner outside of the café, leaning against the wall with a deep breath. Not even a second later, Tiger popped up to join him, hands casually stuffed in his pockets.

“All alone, handsome?” Tiger teased. “You’re not very good at hiding things, you know.”

Joe rolled his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. And you’re too good at it, though. Not fair.”

Tiger hummed, stepping closer. “I think you like the challenge.”

Joe hated how accurate that was.

And again, the world had shrunk down to just the two of them. The distant hum of the café, the muffled voices of the team– it all faded into the background. Joe felt the warmth of Tiger’s presence beside him, steady and comforting. Then, without a word, Tiger reached for his wrist, fingers brushing against his skin before giving it a brief, reassuring squeeze. A silent promise.

Joe exhaled. “One day, I will slip up.”

Tiger smiled. “I know.”

“...You want that to happen, don’t you?”

“I mean… It would be funny!”

Joe groaned, but before he could retaliate further, a voice called from outside.

“Everyone back to the bus! We’re leaving in five minutes!”

Joe shot his boyfriend a look. “This isn’t over.”

Tiger chuckled. “Yeah, well… Definitely looking forward to it.”

With a reluctant sigh, Joe followed Tiger back to the bus, knowing full well that hiding all of this was only going to get harder from here.

[sinsinsininning]

A little bit softer

Chapter 2.

Eustass Kid x crew mate!fem!reader

TW: depictions of DV, descriptions of medical terms and procedures, not as smutty

A/N: I don’t know why but l always have to make my reader inserts or OCs a medic in some way……It’s probably bc I’m a vet tech.

~~~~~~

Kid felt… guilty, which wasn’t a normal thing for him. Suspecting you were scared of him was one thing. But knowing you were scared of him was another entirely.

He wanted to shake himself some days, you were just a rookie. Not his lover. Not his partner. He didn’t owe you anything. But then he’d ruin his own pep talk by thinking of you and your face.

After your conversation with Heat, Kid walked on eggshells around you. The entire crew was still trying their damnedest to meddle with him, so encounters with you had ramped up a lot. You both still did your best to avoid eye contact or speak to him. But it was clearly starting to wear on the crew’s patience.

“You need to handle your shit.” Killer said to him one day in his workshop. Kid couldn’t even pretend not to know what he was on about.

“You need to fuck off!” He shouted, feeling his shoulders shake.

“Just talk with her, you never know, maybe she likes you as well.”

Kid burst out in hysterical laughter, needing a few moments to catch his breath.

“She’s terrified of me Killer,” He coughed. “She thinks I’m gonna hit her or something. I heard her telling Heat.” Killer cocked his head, thinking.

“All the more reason to clear the air. What’s more is I can’t have the crew keep trying to pair the two of you up, it’s getting in the way of their tasks.” Kid fixed him with a glare.

“Newsflash, asshole! You were the one who started that shit!” He turned back to his table. “Besides the fuck am I gonna say to make her feel better? Huh?”

“That’s true, you’re not good with words.” Killer nodded and began approaching him. “You’ll just have to use your actions.” Kid laughed.

“Oh yeah? How am I gonna do that?” He asked sarcastically before a sharp pain flared in his right arm. “Ow what the fuck?!”

Killer had cut his arm, a deep laceration at least 5 inches long. The masked man shrugged at his shouting.

“She’s in the med bay, go up there, tell her you got cut while working. Ask her to patch you up.”

“Fuck you this stings!” Kid pressed a used rag to his arm. “I’ll fucking stab you.”

“She won’t be there much longer. Tell her you can’t find me and you can’t stitch yourself with one hand.” Killer took that moment leave, Kid stood there fuming for a moment. Part of him wanted to just stay down here and fix it later, just to piss Killer off.

But a stronger part of him wanted to see you, hopefully you wouldn’t run or hide. He made his way slowly to the med bay, almost hoping you’d be gone. As he entered he saw how unlucky he was.

You had your back to him, wiping down the machines that sterilized the suturing materials and other rudimentary instruments. He coughed to get your attention, keeping his injured arm hidden behind the doorframe.

“Hip are you don- oh!” He hated how tense you became, you soft stomach clenching in worry. “Sorry captain, I thought Hip was done with the mop. What can I do for you?” He showed you his arm and felt a small bit better as you gasped with worry.

The rag he’s used to staunch the bleeding made it look worse than it was, but it had dried a little and was now stuck to his skin. You motioned for him to sit on the chair by the table.

“How’d that happen?” You asked, trying to gently peel the rag off.

“Was working and it just kinda happened.” He wasn’t sure why, but he didn’t want to lie to you. “Don’t know where Killer is and I can’t sew with only one hand.” Still not lies technically.

“Gotcha.” You’re all business and he feels a little flush at the sight of you zipping around the room gathering materials. “Well it’s not too bad, really deep though. I’ll numb it, suture it really quick and you should be on your way.” Any trace of fear or anxiety was gone, your posture alert but relaxed, you soft face was focused.

“Take your time.” Kid drawled, enjoying the view, didn’t hurt that your ass looked good as you bent over to grab something under the desk. Your ass always looked good he decided. “Got nowhere to be.”

“Not true,” You return with a small syringe, some type of numbing drug he assumed. “You’re the captain, you probably got plenty of stuff to be doing.”

He didn’t respond, the injection you gave him stung so he had to bite back his swears about it. Neither of you spoke as you worked. You had to stand pretty close to place the sutures, your hands cold but soft as you touched him.

You shivered at one point and Kid realized, horrifically, that he’d leaned to far forward to watch your hands. You glanced up at him, caught his gaze and shuffled a bit further back. He wanted to growl as he saw how tense you’d gotten, your soft apology only making him more frustrated.

You were halfway done and he couldn’t take the silence anymore.

“So.” You tensed again, he could see it in your neck especially. “I never did ask… who was your old captain?” You jabbed the needle a bit harder at the question, obviously not on purpose as you profusely apologized. He ignored and continued to stare until you answered.

“His- um. His name is um… It’s Badger. Captain Badger.” You try to focus once more.

“How long did you sail with him?”

“2 years.”

“How big was the crew?”

“About 15.”

“Where’d you sail?”

“West Blue.”

“Why’d you leave?”

“Um.” You were almost shaking, he almost hesitated.

“Why’d you leave his crew?”

“What does it matter?” Oh that was a response, he grinned, anger was better than fear. At least in his book.

“Answer the question. It’s important for me to know.”

“You never needed to know before. Why now?”

“Because I’ve been watching you.” He leans forward more, meeting your heated glare as you tied the final knot. “You’ve got some peculiar habits, I’d like to know more about that.”

“You’ve been watching me?”

He nodded.

“Like on deck or like…. In my room?”

“Not like that you pervert!” He can’t help but shout, you don’t flinch though. A small grin on your face as you successfully get him off the topic.

“So not my room or the showers? Just to clarify.” He knows he’s blushing but he still growls and stands to his full height. You step back but he follows you, a look of fear in your eyes takes over the glee. But he can’t stop himself from continuing.

“You’re clever, but I still need an answer.” He crowds your space, placing both hands on the counter behind you, caging your body with his. He leans forward, letting his breath fan over your ear. “Why did you leave?”

You stay silent, face red and a little sweaty, he pulls back just enough to admire the sight. He can’t make a reassuring face to save his life, but he tries as tears fill up your eyes. Still, he can’t stop, he needs this. You need this.

“If you are unhappy with my performance or skills, tell me and I will fix them. I haven’t brought any bad habits on board. I assure you.” You finally answer, your words felt warm against his face, he grinned some more.

“Uh-uh you see, one of those habits, the only one really,” His grin drops from his face. “Is that you’re scared of your captain.” You pale at his words and start to shake a little. He continues, drawing back slightly.

“That’s something he taught you, right?” He tilted his head a little. “To be scared of your captain. Because you never know when he’ll just up hit you, right?” He parroted your words from the bar back to you. Your eyes are wide with recognition.

“I’m sor-“

“Save it,” He cuts you off. “I know I’m scary, it’s my whole deal. I’m a scary pirate who murders and pillage. But my crew is mine. Understood. I don’t let anyone harm them, especially not myself.” You lean back into the counter more.

“You hurt Wire. You made him need staples and you didn’t even seem sorry. You didn’t help patch him up.” Kid knew this was coming, he still didn’t know what to say.

“It was a mistake,” He said. “I didn’t mean to hit him, but you’re right. I should’ve check on him and made sure he wasn’t hurt.” It was hard to admit he was wrong, but in the small medical room, to you, it was a little easier.

Both of you stayed quiet for a while. He made no move to let you go. And you made no move to try. He wasn’t sure if he would’ve actually stopped you if you did. Finally, the tension in you jaw and shoulders eased, just a little.

“Badger… was bad. He didn’t just hit us. He stole from us and wouldn’t let us leave, even if some managed to escape they’d have no Beris. It’d be like starting from scratch, but worse because if he caught you he’d kill you.” You paused, taking a big breath, turning to stare at the wall. “I was secretly saving Beris, to hopefully run off and be able to hide from him. I didn’t have much, barely anything. One day he came and told me he wanted me to be his… wife.” Kid stood up straight, leaning back like he’d been struck, you continued barely noticing him.

“I told him no, I should’ve said yes and bided my time. Maybe I could’ve taken more people with me, but I was an idiot.”

“No that’s not-“ You cut him off.

“He threw a fit, tried to kill me. His devil fruit power nullifies weapons, so I couldn’t fight back. I tried to stage a mutiny, but everyone was too afraid, he’d never lost a fight. Eventually I jumped over board and swam to shore. I hid on a marine ship, I never had a bounty so I just pretended to be some girl who wanted to travel. I flirted with some of them and got a ride to a port a few islands over.” You sighed, a long exhale that seemed to deflate you. “I had no Beris or even clothes. But I overheard some rookies talking about joining your crew. I figured it was the safest option. So I spoke with Killer and here I am.” You trailed off quietly, tears still hadn’t fallen yet, it was almost impressive.

Kid didn’t speak for several long minutes, just watching you hold your breath. Finally he pushed off the counter, giving you both some breathing room. He began to exit when you called out.

“Captain what are you doing?”

He turned with a scowl.

“I’m setting a course to go murder that asshole.”

“What? Why that’s so far off our course.”

“I told you, you’re my crew. We’re gonna go murder him, then if any of your old friends wanna join the crew they can.” He laughed at your shocked face. When he’d caught his breath he turned again to leave.