#but now not only have you changed my mind | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

xomakara · 3 days ago

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Baby Don't Stop

SUMMARY | You run into your old college crush, Johnny Suh, at the gym after ten years. You used to hook up back in the day, and sparks fly again. To celebrate Johnny's birthday, you go out for drinks with friends, but the night takes a turn when you confess your feelings for each other. PAIRINGS | Johnny x Reader RATING | Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked GENRE | smut, romance, birthday, old flames, random fluff/comedy CONTENT/WARNINGS | nightclub vibes, profanity, drinking, flirting, teasing, birthday sex, unprotective sex, public sex, oral sex (both male/female receiving and giving), fingering, marking, shoulder biting, hair grabbing, creampies, daddy kink, breeding/impregnation kink LENGTH | 12,974 words TAGLIST | @lovetaroandtaemin NETWORKS | @k-vanity @ksmutsociety AUTHOR’S NOTE | Thank you to both @unholywriters, and @lovetaroandtaemin for beta-reading this.I really appreciate the both of you for reading this! Thank you @aaagustd for the gorgeous banner! I appreciate you all so much! Happy 30th Birthday to my man, Johnny! 💚💚

NCT Main Masterlist

"Hottie alert!" your friend darts her eyes in the direction of the man that just walked into the gym, but you ignore her gaze and keep running at your current speed, steadily jogging on the treadmill.

It's as if your sole purpose for existing is just to get the hell on a treadmill every day and then promptly leave. You start slowing down, your mind beginning to wander as the smell of sweat and metal engulfs your senses, and your feet pounding the black material begin to slow until the belt under your feet comes to a full halt.

"Okay Miss Hot Bod," Misun rolls her eyes. "Can you stop exercising long enough to even check a guy out once? You know you need to get laid, babe."

"I don't need your help with that," you quip and shake your head.

"Well obviously, but seriously, look. He's totally your type," Misun points across the room, where he stands in a loose sleeveless tee. His biceps are well defined; his left arm adorned in tats, and he runs his fingers through his dark hair while holding a water bottle in his other hand. "That man's body is literally the definition of fuckable. Look how sculpted he is!"

Okay, you have to admit he is very easy to look at. As you stand there, your breathing slowing and the buzz of the cardio still surging through your veins, the dark haired man looks across the room right in your direction and suddenly, time feels like it's crawling as Misun's words echo through your head. He cocks his head in acknowledgement of his surroundings, as if he were trying to pick out exactly where you were amidst the sea of equipment.

You know this man from somewhere, but you can't put your finger on it. It isn't until he gets up, sets the bottle down on a mat and strides over towards you, and you spot the sunflower tattoo on his left upper forearm that recognition slaps you in the face.

Johnny.

Johnny fucking Suh.

The boy that was the object of your crushes back in college. But he was no longer a boy; the past decade had been kind to his body, and the subtle changes between a younger Johnny and an older Johnny just made your panties want to slide off and flutter to the ground.

He’s still as tall as you remember him being, but instead of being lean muscle, he now has a slightly larger frame to fit it. His facial features haven't really changed, but everything is just a bit sharper, a little more rugged. The moment Johnny spots you, his mouth gapes in disbelief. He chuckles, breaking into a wide grin and quickly enveloping you with a bear hug.

"Y/N! Long time no see!" He steps back, his eyes roaming the rest of your figure. You've gotten more confident than your younger self, and your gym gear only serves to highlight just that. Your form fitting workout gear leaves absolutely nothing to the imagination, and Johnny's eyes rake over every curve on your body. He lingers a fraction too long on the tight sports bra stretching against your chest, trying his best not to blatantly stare. He grins and breaks the silence.

"Wow! I mean, holy shit you look so... so different," he compliments, clearly surprised at the change since the last time he'd seen you.

Back in college, the two of you used to fuck around every once in awhile; never anything serious though. You didn't have any real commitment to one another. You'd go to frat parties together, and you'd sometimes go out with mutual friends. You'd dance a bit, and you’d fuck each other silly once the alcohol kicked in, but nothing more and nothing less. And there was certainly a point in time where you really started to fall hard, because deep down you knew that you were hopelessly pining for him. But, you knew better. Johnny didn't do relationships, and Johnny certainly didn't do serious, at least not that's what you gathered, and you never felt like it was really worth bringing up either.

"Different in a good way?" you tease back.

"Oh yeah, a very good way," he checks out the new you one more time before breaking the gaze. "Wow, the past decade did you good."

"I could say the same about you, Suh," you shoot back, meeting his stare. You scan over him just as he did to you. Time and life has definitely treated him well. "Gosh, you've gotten so-"

"Different?" He laughs. "Yeah. The past few years have done my body good; the diet's improved, the job is stressful, but..." Johnny pauses for a minute and smiles fondly, and you notice the glimmer of nostalgia flicker in his eye as memories flash through his mind. He thinks for a while before speaking again. "Anyway," he breaks into a big grin and shrugs. "The past decade hasn't been half bad."

"How's life treating you?" you ask him.

"Well I'm back in Seoul permanently now, so that's pretty exciting," he nods and greets you with another easy, kind smile. "You still hang out with Doyoung and the guys?"

"I hang out with Doyoung's wife more than I do with him now," you pointed at Misun and she waved back. You laugh softly. "But yeah, I see the guys every weekend. We're all doing well. Pretty settled down and all."

"Doyoung's married? Holy crap," Johnny's eyes widen and it's a surprise for him to hear. He bites his lip and raises his brows. "How'd I miss that?"

"Life is pretty fast, dude," you grin.

"And you? Are you married?" Johnny tilts his head. "Couple of kids?"

Your face heats up slightly. Kids and marriage were the last thing on your mind right now, and you definitely had no partner. "Nope. Definitely single right now, and zero kids."

"I bet guys would be lining up for miles to have you," he answers. You swallow the saliva collecting in your mouth and look at Johnny for a moment. Perhaps his way was just complimenting everything and everyone, and he meant nothing by his words. That's the most likely case.

“Nope,” you chuckle. “I don’t see a line anywhere.”

"Good, because I'm gonna ask for your number," his gaze is stern and full of resolve, a mischievous smirk playing upon his lips.

"Huh?" you ask him, feeling a slight lump form in your throat.

"I'd really like to go get a cup of coffee sometime, if you're up for it," his voice is earnest, and he grins widely before speaking again. "Maybe get with the guys some night for drinks? It's not everyday you come back and bump into the old crew."

Ahhhh, he wants to catch up with the old gang. Of course he wants to catch up with everyone and relive the college days or something. It doesn't take a genius to put two and two together.

"Yeah sure," you mumble and dig your phone out. Johnny passes you his and you both add your contact information. "That would actually be a lot of fun."

"Let me know a couple dates that work for you," Johnny says in his silky smooth voice. "Or, let me know what days you're free. If it's during the work week, we can even get dinner after we finish up late at night."

"O...kay, I'll let you know,” you said.

"Sweet. Well it was nice to catch up," Johnny beams and starts walking in the other direction. He suddenly stops, spins, and turns back around. "Don't be a stranger, yeah? Give me a call whenever!"

"Yeah..." you nodded.

Johnny gives you an eager nod before taking his leave. As you watch his sculpted back muscles through the fabric of his loose shirt, Misun runs right over to you.

"Aghhh," she screeches excitedly, almost kicking her leg in an attempt to demonstrate how excited she was. "He totally hit on you!"

"Did he, though?" you tilt your head and smile slightly, grabbing your gym bag, before heading to the bathroom. "We kind of used to hang out with the same circle of people and—"

"Wait—so you already knew him? He's not just a guy you met today?" Misun follows you out, nearly stepping on your shoes because she's following your every movement like a hawk. She stares you down as if she were trying to dissect your body right there in the locker room, like a science experiment gone horribly, horribly right.

"We've sort of been casually acquainted since my college days," you explain as you pull your leggings off. "He's one of your husband's friends. Not someone I'd say he’s super close with, though. Just casual acquaintances."

"You guys fucked, didn't you?" Misun presses, her eyes bulging out of her eye sockets.

"Hey hey hey," you put a finger over your lips and lower your voice, checking the surrounding area for other people in the vicinity. You confirm the coast is clear before continuing, but you continue to whisper, nonetheless. "Keep it down will you?"

Misun smacks her lips together as a cheeky smirk spreads across her face. "Damn."

You begin changing out of your gym clothes before speaking again. "To be completely honest with you, Misun... Johnny was probably the most attractive guy I was ever with. By far. In fact, he's probably the most attractive guy I'll ever be with..." you say a bit melancholy, trailing off as your mind drifts back to those wild college nights.

"Then why the hell haven't you hit that in like a decade then, hon? I mean damn," Misun places her hand over her heart and you can practically see the gears spinning in her brain. "He's hot. You're hot. It's a win-win."

"Things are just...complicated," you answer vaguely, but you know exactly what your friend's picking up on.

"Darling," Misun wraps an arm around your shoulder. "Life is complicated. Relationships are complicated. But sex is the easiest thing ever to understand. I promise."

You simply wave her comment off and close up the door to your locker. Maybe she has a point, but you honestly don't know how you should feel. Things were so much simpler back when you and Johnny first hooked up. Back then, no feelings were involved, and everything was clear and defined. Now? Who the fuck knows.

All you could think about at that moment was Johnny. Johnny's body, Johnny's grin, Johnny's laughter, and everything in-between. There's an awkward tightening sensation in your core, and you shake your head. This isn't something that would normally bother you. Sure, you found him hot back in college, but the lust was purely physical. Something felt...different this time.

And, something about Johnny has changed, and you know it. Maybe it was just that time itself had changed, maybe he'd matured since your early twenties. Maybe the dynamic between you and Johnny would be entirely different now.

"Johnny's back in town," Taeyong tells you and Doyoung over lunch one day as he sips his americano.

You swallow your bite and nod. "Yeah, I know. I ran into him at the gym."

"What?" His eyes grow wider than saucers as he puts down his coffee cup. "No way!"

"Yeah, Misun was there," Doyoung laughs and gives you a cheeky look. "My lovely wife saw Johnny and Y/N make googly eyes at each other before exchanging contact info."

"Oh?" Taeyong raises his eyebrows and perks up in interest. "What happened next?"

You shove another piece of chicken into your mouth and sigh. "We exchanged numbers."

"AND?" both men yell impatiently.

"We. Exchanged. Numbers," you make a large circle with your hands in an exasperated fashion and then stare at both of them. "He wants to catch up with everyone, that's all. Go get a drink, reminisce about our younger days."

"Damn," Taeyong swears and laughs. "That's disappointing."

"You two would have such beautiful babies," Doyoung mutters.

"Who's gonna have babies?" Jaehyun cuts in, carrying a tray of drinks.

"Our darling Y/N and Suh," Taeyong explains, putting the last bite of food in his mouth. "Wanna go get drinks with Johnny and our lovely Y/N sometime this week?"

"Johnny's back in town?" Jaehyun seems intrigued.

"He’s here to stay," Doyoung looks at Jaehyun with raised eyebrows. “Y/N and Johnny exchanged numbers.”

"Oh, really?" Jaehyun looks mildly interested and smirks as he places your drink down in front of you. "You're hot. Johnny's hot. Good call. Hook it up."

"I literally think you guys are reading into this waaaay too much," you sigh and shake your head. "It was not even close to how you're putting it. No chemistry involved."

"Johnny Suh wouldn't have gotten your number if he was the sort of man to 'just catch up' with old college friends," Taeyong argues, making an air quote gesture.

"FINE," you roll your eyes. "Well, he asked me for coffee. BUT," you interject quickly and put a finger up when they're all ready to burst. "That doesn't necessarily mean he's asking me out on a date! Coffee doesn't necessarily mean romance."

"Uh, it totally does!" Taeyong cries, Jaehyun snickering along with him. "How do you think Misun and Doyoung got married? They brewed their love."

Doyoung slaps a hand over his face and rolls his eyes, muttering under his breath.

"Who are you and what have you done with the Lee Taeyong I once knew, God-knows-when, from God-knows-where," you grimace at his horrible choice in word play.

"Say it, Y/N. You know I'm a hundred percent right, and you can't deny it," Taeyong goes on. "How do you feel about Suh?"

"It's been ten years, Taeyong! What should I even say? Do I even have the same feelings for him as I had back in college?" You roll your eyes.

"Maybe? Maybe not. Only you know. But... Do you?" Doyoung folds his arms and glares at you.

You throw your head back, running your hands across the side of your hair. You make a dramatic gesture of screaming silently while the boys sit back and wait, leaning forward as they anticipate your answer. You stop making a ruckus and shoot them a defeated, resigned look, your shoulders slumping, your mouth drooping, and a little twinkle sparkles in your eyes.

You purse your lips together. "Possibly. Maybe. A bit."

"I mean," Jaehyun started, "you guys did fuck for a good year in college—"

"How did you know that!?" You feel the embarrassment color your cheeks.

Jaehyun bursts out laughing. "Who didn't know? You guys were fuckin' around a LOT."

You sink lower in your chair, sinking your teeth into the flesh of your lip. Of course they'd have known.

"So what's the problem then?" Taeyong presses for the details. "You're single, right?"

"Yeah but..." you sigh. "What if he's not? Or what if he's with someone right now?"

"He's single," Taeyong points at you with a decisive air, nodding with pride. "I asked."

"Why am I not surprised, you little gossiping bastard," you fold your hands across your chest. "Of course you asked."

"Anyway," Taeyong shakes his head. "Think of it this way. Say you get your little date on. If nothing comes out of it, then no biggie! Nothing ventured, nothing gained. But, if anything happens… if," he puts a hand to his heart, "if a wonderful spark ignites between you and Johnny… then wouldn't it have been worth trying?"

He does make an excellent point.

Johnny's wearing a button down silk shirt, open to the fourth button so his sharp clavicle and smooth, flawless, chest were peeking out. His leather pants were molded around him; the expensive belt showing off just how defined his waist was. He sits back in his chair and gives a hearty laugh as Haechan talks animatedly, gesturing and using both of his hands for emphasis as he recounts a story about Jaehyun pranking Taeyong.

You're sitting next to him, his arm draped casually against the top of the chair you're sitting on, a smug, playful smirk dancing across his lips, and his eyes flashing and sparkling under the light of the low lit room. You try not to stare at how well dressed he is, how nice the scent of his cologne is and how he looks like an absolute snack from this proximity. It’s difficult not to notice just how nice looking this man is. It's been more than ten years since you've been near one another, after all. And the past decade has been exceedingly good to him, that much was evident.

It was Johnny's birthday celebration; the crew wanted to go out and give him the greatest time, since he was back in Seoul after so long, and Johnny was the type to really enjoy himself when surrounded by good company. Dressed in a long, skin-tight black dress that dipped low in the back, showing the length of your spine and cut to expose one leg up to the upper thigh, the crew went hard for this bar crawl night and they went all out for Johnny.

When Yuta suggested this nightclub and sent everyone the address, the boys responded with immediate acceptance, while your immediate reaction was pure disbelief. You hate nightclubs; you were never interested in them. This was never your scene back in college, let alone right now. Sure, you loved a nice drink after work, and you've been dragged to enough bars with your friends, but you were not remotely interested in this clubbing scene.

There are too many sweaty people, a plethora of obnoxious dudes trying to pick up girls, and so much wasted energy. Why not just go to a bar where you can have a more relaxed vibe and a way better selection of drinks? That would be a better fit for you, really. You can have a drink, lounge, and enjoy music that is quiet enough to allow you to hear your friends’ voices.

But nope, here you are. Surrounded by a sea of people who are half-naked, grinding or shouting about the lack of people grinding against them. You felt old in the sea of young bodies in here, so out of place in a world filled with loud music and zero room to talk to anybody, given the loud and throbbing base filling the entirety of the room.

"Hey Y/N," Johnny leans in and whispers right into your ear, his breath warm and tickling.

"Hmm," you try to keep it casual, even though his sudden movements have put you into an unannounced trance.

"Wanna get out of here?" He's closer to you now, his soft lips barely even brushing against the outer shell of your earlobe.

"Excuse me?" your face heats up a few degrees, wondering if what you're thinking is what he means, or what you're hoping for.

"We're going to hit another place," Jaehyun says from your other side.

"The vibe here is awful," Johnny groans. "Let's go somewhere more chill where we can all just talk."

"I knew this club thing was a bad idea. I should've fought Nakamoto on his decision," you get out of your seat and smile in response. "Plus it's better for Doyoung. We don't need any single birds flirting with him. Misun's liable to punch somebody in the face if anyone gets close."

Everyone chuckles as you all head out. Yuta merely shrugged when you told him about changing locations and led the crew out into the evening air, looking for a new bar to go to. The whole lot of you move at the pace of Jaehyun and Johnny, whose strides are equally long, as they attempt to seek a spot of their liking. After passing a few establishments, you find yourself nearing a lounge with a slightly different ambiance, one that doesn't reek of desperation and wasted energy. It was relatively quiet when you got close, and the interior looked cozy. You instantly liked the change in scenery and noticed how your tension melted away.

Everyone shuffled inside, pushing tables together.

"C'mon babe, you're sitting over here," Misun gently coaxed you into the seat next to Johnny, which just makes you wonder what she's scheming now, what new ridiculousness has filled her mind. "This place has a way better atmosphere, right?"

You had to admit, this was a much better choice than the night club that Yuta brought everyone to earlier. This was cozy and just loud enough for everyone to be heard without needing to yell their lungs out.

"Y'know..." Jungwoo starts, getting your attention as you lean forward across the table. "I don't think Yuta was really trying."

Everyone, except Yuta, started guffawing in unison, and Doyoung did his best not to fall off of his stool.

"To be fair," Yuta stands in the corner, attempting to defend his character, a pout forming upon his lips. "I didn't have time to go scout a location out! Work's been busy! Cut me some slack."

"First rounds on you then," Mark cracks up, slapping Yuta hard on the back.

"Feeling better already, babe?" Doyoung gave his wife a quick peck before speaking and patted the seat to his left.

Misun nodded eagerly and took the offered seat, watching you and Johnny with intense interest, a far too satisfied grin playing on her lips.

“This place is nice,” Misun started. “It’s intimate and cozy. And the sound levels here are great. Perfect place for a little celebration.”

You give Misun a questioning glance but you decide to shrug and leave it at that for now. Besides, this wouldn't hurt anyone.

"First things first!" Yuta announced after everyone got comfortable, raising a glass high. Everyone paused and gave Yuta their undivided attention. "A toast! To Johnny, Happy Birthday again!"

You grab ahold of your drink and raise the glass high into the air to follow the boys.

"Cheers!" everyone shouts and the sound echoes throughout the space as everyone takes a sip of their drinks.

"Thanks, man, really," Johnny grins widely, patting Yuta's shoulder and shaking his friend's hand. He faces you and locks your gaze. "Now that we're not deafened by shitty club music, I just wanted to say how great it was to see you all again. I really did miss this."

Everyone's beaming at him with their hearts on their sleeves. Even you.

"I never stopped missing you guys. Truly," he raised his glass and everyone mimicked his gesture. He holds his cup out to toast, the smile on his face wide. "Now let's take it easy and catch up."

You spend hours laughing, reminiscing, and recounting old stories. Misun's stomach hurts so badly she can't help but lay down on Doyoung's lap, rubbing at her stomach, with tears coming out of her eyes as she tells Haechan and Jungwoo not to make her laugh anymore.

Johnny's presence is intoxicating and comforting; his hand is placed across the back of your chair throughout most of the night, only removing it to grab drinks or help pass things across the table.

He's exactly as you remembered from college: warm and charming. So goddamn easy on the eyes. His timbre was so delicious, you wished that he'd whisper sweet nothings to you, hold you in his embrace and tell you you were the most beautiful woman in the entire world. And maybe his kisses were exactly as sweet, perhaps even sweeter, as they once were back in the good ol' days.

You notice that Misun was talking to one of the employees, whispering, glancing at you and Johnny every now and then, but you honestly can't bring yourself to care. Not tonight at least. Not when Johnny's near you, especially, because no man has ever looked at you the way Johnny Suh does tonight. You can feel those brown pools devouring every inch of you as you converse with the rest of the crew, hanging off of everyone's every word.

Johnny's intense gaze has always made you feel self-conscious, yet exhilarated. He looks at you like you're the most incredible thing he's ever seen, and it's captivating. Reconnecting after a decade, you realize these feelings are rushing back. The Johnny from college is different from the man he is now; he's matured in every sense of the word.

"You don't expect me to really believe that you met Johnny at the gym, right?" Mark asks, a giant grin plastered on his face as he wondered how you ran into Johnny after all this time.

"I didn't plan anything at all! I was just working out! I swear!" You raise your hands, palms facing up in innocence, and chuckle as you see the curious and expectant looks on their faces. "I can't control what random encounters my life brings, you guys."

"It's true. I saw her running on the treadmill and came over. Completely unplanned and innocent," Johnny's cool demeanor is calm, but he still has his typical Cheshire cat-like smile plastered onto his face. "Are we done being grilled here? Or are you all gonna keep up with this interrogation?"

Everyone laughs and turns their attention to their new round of drinks that just arrived. The lounge started to get rowdy and loud, the quiet, ambient area turned into a hotspot for those who wanted some post-work release. There were throngs of office people, students and party goers filing in. It was much different from the peaceful, mellow scene just minutes ago.

Misun's grinning like a fool when you stand up. "And where are you off to?"

"Bathroom. Give me a sec," you answer.

She gives you an enthusiastic thumbs-up and watches you walk across the length of the table. Misun and Doyoung slide a keycard in Johnny's direction, nudging their heads toward your receding back.

"What's this?" Johnny frowns slightly, grabbing it in his hand as the couple tries their hardest not to stare.

"Our present to you," Misun answers smoothly, Johnny raising his eyebrows. "We all know that you and Y/N used to have a... thing. So, we figured, you deserved to celebrate in private, without any company."

Johnny looks around at the group. "You guys all know-"

"That you and Y/N hooked up for a full year?" Mark cackles. "Well, duh. We all know. Not really sure how you two think you could possibly be lowkey or discreet about it."

"How could we miss the looks the two of you have been giving each other or the times you both snuck off campus on some weekends?" Jungwoo chimes in.

"And you thought we didn't know?" Yuta rolls his eyes and laughs.

"The worst kept secret of your life, if you ask me," Taeyong added with a laugh before slapping his back. "Reconnect, man. Who knows? Maybe sparks could reignite."

"That would be fucking wild," Haechan laughs as a fresh set of drinks is laid upon the table and clinks his glass with Mark's.

"Johnny!" Yuta smacks Johnny's shoulder. "Don't let another decade slip by wondering what could have been."

"Go to the private room and make out or something," Taeyong wiggled his eyebrows. "And whatever happens afterwards is totally none of our business."

Johnny stares at the card again, eyeing the shiny material before shooting a confused gaze back at Doyoung and Misun. "I... really don't know what to say. This is unexpected, honestly."

Doyoung smiles. "If anyone deserves something this nice, it's you, Johnny. Go get her, man."

After returning from the ladies room and taking a brief moment to fix your lipstick in the mirror, you check the time and see the numbers, 9:45pm. You run your hands over the black dress and fix your hair, spraying a bit of perfume before exiting the bathroom and re-entering the busy lounge.

Your eyes wander about the space and see everyone else standing up and conversing as you make your way back. The lounge has become noisier, packed with several bodies, more than you anticipated it to have, but it wasn't as loud or stifling as the last place. You shuffle and slide around to navigate through the masses, spotting the crew around the table. Johnny stood out like a sore thumb with his tall, sculpted figure, and even if he didn't, Misun caught your gaze, making a point to shove the guys to the side and call you over.

You let out a small laugh as you joined your friends.

"Where were you? You took so long," Misun gasped, lurching a bit forward, dramatically pulling you down to sit into your original spot.

"Took forever to line up in the bathroom," you roll your eyes and chuckle at her as the guys slide a drink in your direction.

Misun smirks, leaning in to whisper in your ear. "Are you wearing sexy panties or boy shorts tonight?"

"Oh, no," you pull away and glower, giving a slight laugh. "Don't even start."

"You're not gonna give Suh a show tonight?" she presses, pouting.

You smirk and try not to burst into laughter. You decide it best to not tell her that you didn't think it was gonna happen in the first place, and that her efforts will be fruitless anyway. You smirk, take a deep breath and say, "You're crazy. Why would I do that?"

"You're wearing perfume, you've fixed yourself up..." Misun answered.

"Misun, look around," you gesture around the venue. "There's plenty of girls out tonight. This place is a real hottie central," you say, watching some girls clad in skintight dresses and very high heels saunter by in an attempt to not sound offended by her insinuation. "I was literally in the bathroom. Why wouldn't I wear perfume or freshen up?"

Misun playfully frowns, but continues to gape at you as Doyoung checks something on his phone and reaches out to grab his glass, gulping his cocktail. "I wanna dance," Misun gets up and tugs Doyoung off of the chair. "C'mon hon, let's go have some fun."

"Behave," Doyoung kisses his wife on her nose before following her onto the small dance floor. Everyone else seemed to scatter, leaving you and Johnny to be the last ones remaining at the table.

"And then there were two," he remarks, bringing his beer to his lips to take a swig, a smirk curling upwards.

"Looks like it," you reply, taking your own cup.

"I'm not complaining, not in the slightest," Johnny says, shifting in his seat to get more comfortable. His thigh now lightly brushes against your leg. "I missed this. Just spending time with friends."

"No girlfriends or lovers back home, Johnny boy?" You ask, glancing at the man, who smiled.

"Nah, it hasn't really worked out in that department... at all. Kinda just me right now," his laugh was music to your ears. You try not to focus on his large frame beside you, or his muscular thigh pressed up against you, or the way his cologne smells so good up-close.

"Really now?" you laugh. "Handsome like that, body like that. Surely the girls must be all over you back in Chicago. So you never had a chance?"

"They're out there," Johnny admits. "I guess I'm picky. Plus," he gives you an intense look, tilting his head forward, as his leg moves and presses against yours in a way that wasn't accidental. His hands slide to his lap. "I haven't had anyone I liked for a while now."

"For some reason, I just don't believe that..." you laugh, finding it hard to maintain eye contact now.

"What about you? I find it hard to believe that no guy has snatched you up." He leans in further, turning to face your direction now. "What's the story behind your single ass?"

"I never found that spark, I guess. Plus work's been hectic," you respond, sucking your lower lip in.

"Life works in mysterious ways, huh?" His smile is endearing and gentle. "So many people cross our path every day and you never know who it could be, really." He pauses, and puts a hand on yours, which had been resting against the side of the table. His fingertips send jolts through your body.

Johnny's touch was electric. His fingers, his entire hand envelopes yours, leaving you at his complete mercy.

"Maybe you'll end up meeting someone again? The perfect match?" he added, his hand not moving or leaving yours.

"That would be nice," you said, and took a large swig of your drink. You give him a friendly smile and laugh to yourself, relaxing as the pounding music and the vibrations start to drown out everything else in the lounge. You notice a few younger women eyeing your handsome companion with interest, shooting furtive glances and hopeful smiles his way. Their body language is easy for you to pick up on; you're no novice at this game.

Johnny catches sight of the girls who are looking over at him and does absolutely nothing about it. In fact, his hand snakes across your lower back and his fingers are pressing into your back with a possessive grip, not even bothering to acknowledge any of the women gawking his way. Your breath hitches at the feeling of his strong, firm hands massaging your lower spine.

"Oh?" You turn your gaze away from the girls and stare at him. "They seem very interested."

"They got nothing on you," he replies smoothly, and a dangerous glint appears in his eye, and then he's slowly and methodically raking his gaze over every part of your exposed skin. "Absolutely nothing."

You felt heat coiling within your gut as he did this.

"Even after a decade?" You blink rapidly, cheeks burning. You down the rest of your drink, hoping that the booze would quell the emotions rushing through your body.

Johnny leaned closer and locked your gaze. His scent, a delicious mix of his own natural musk and expensive cologne, invades your nostrils and a shudder rolls up and down your spine. The intensity of his chocolate brown eyes left you a bit speechless and frozen in place.

"A decade is such a long time," he murmured, reaching his free hand over and gently resting his palm against your cheek. Johnny's expression, and voice, turned a bit tender. "But to me, you're the most beautiful woman I’ve ever known, and nothing has changed that. Maybe I'm biased," he chuckles and you couldn't help but reciprocate his sweet laugh, leaning in and enjoying his closeness. "But there's no woman that comes anywhere close to you. You've held my attention since day one."

"What am I supposed to do with you, Suh?" you cock an eyebrow his way.

"Anything you want," Johnny takes his free hand and moves it to brush his thumb lightly along your cheekbone.

"What if I wanted to...continue this..." your throat goes dry and you feel a lump in your throat as you swallow your fear. "Where would we even begin?"

"Right here," his words are just as smooth and confident. "Can I tell you something?"

"Sure, what is it?" you ask, blinking and waiting in anticipation.

"I fucking miss this. Spending time together, talking, laughing. I've missed you," his thumb gently rubs circles along your cheekbone, making you shudder under his touch. He begins to shift again, allowing his free hand to rub up and down your arm in slow strokes.

His touches weren't necessarily foreign, but it's been a damn decade of no Johnny contact. It felt like years of pent up electricity had just exploded in your heart and your belly, and all you could do was stare at him in response, hypnotized by him.

"I fucking miss you too," you croak, and lean into him for a kiss.

His lips meet yours, slowly and softly, before they move and become more hungry and fierce, just as they used to be back in college. You feel his tongue slipping past the seal of your lips and teeth, deepening the kiss, making you moan in pleasure as he savours the sweet taste of your mouth. Your body wants him more, desperately needs him after all these years. You don't pull away from him because it feels too damn good, so you reach both arms over his broad shoulders as if he was going to leave.

"Fuck," he groans in frustration, pulling away abruptly and abruptly breaks off the kiss, gasping for breath, forehead leaning on top of yours. "I miss kissing you."

You stay in place, enjoying how it feels to be in his arms, surrounded by his presence. You watch him fiddle with the empty glass, his hands busy, his focus entirely on the beverage in front of him. There are a few moments of silence, allowing the music of the bar to fill your ears. The light sounds of chatter and music of the bar carry their own rhythm as they blend into an enjoyable soundtrack to the night.

"So…" you begin again, searching his gaze, searching for an indication. A sign of where to take this.

"Why did we stop?" he muses, shifting again and crossing one leg over the other, still rubbing circles on your lower back with his fingertips. "We could have worked it out back then."

"You didn't do relationships, remember? Not your type," you try to remind him gently, reaching for another sip.

"Did I say that?" he raises an eyebrow.

"Among other things. Lots of other things," you admit and shift in your chair so you could better angle yourself to face him.

"But did you know you were the only girl that I hooked up with for an entire year?" Johnny turns, facing you and presses his hand lightly to your thigh. "Don't get me wrong," he's quick to clarify. "I dated loads. But...You. It was just you, that whole year."

"What are you saying, Johnny?" you blinked.

"I'm saying..." His deep chocolate brown eyes search yours as his words form slowly. "That maybe... Just maybe... You were more than just a fuck to me."

"Pause. Rewind, go back. Rewind ten steps. Because I'm quite sure I heard you wrong," you joke.

"Come on, babe. Seriously. It was only you," Johnny reiterates and he brings his thumb back up to your cheek, stroking your cheek again, softer, gentler and slower, giving you more time to take it all in. His hand holds your jaw gently as he presses his lips back to yours, sweet, sensual and slowly building to a burning, aching desire. "After that year, no other girl could live up to what you gave me. I didn't bother anymore after you. I... It just wasn't the same."

"Oh, come off it, Johnny," you snorted and rolled your eyes, brushing off his comment.

"It's the truth, baby," he grabs your chin gently, and his brown eyes seem so sincere. "And I hate that it's taken me ten years to realize this," Johnny breathes. "But fuck me, if that's not the truth."

His lips connect to yours again,his tongue finding its way inside and licking the sides of your mouth, swirling and caressing until all you can taste is his beer and his want for you, while his fingers travel upwards and weave their way through your hair. His breath catches and he presses his forehead to yours again. Your heart races at his declaration, beating madly in your ears, like a drumbeat pounding against your chest.

You bite down on his lower lip and he moans deeply in the back of his throat, sucking it between his own teeth. You sigh contentedly as he kisses the sensitive spot under your chin, letting you nibble at his neck and ear, tracing his features with your fingers as though he would vanish and disappear like a shadow.

The air surrounding the two of you has heated up, and so has the tension that hangs between your bodies. His hands roam freely underneath your clothing, running fingers and palms up and down your body as if he has every right to.

"Want to get out of here, get somewhere...more private?" he mumbles, voice low and hoarse, vibrations transferring through the heat of the embrace to your lips, pressed against his collarbone. You feel light-headed and hazy as the effects of the alcohol and the hot atmosphere are really starting to sink in.

"God yes," you breathe, barely even pausing. The throb between your legs hasn't let up; in fact, it's almost gotten worse now. And as much as you enjoy the flirtatious banter and light teasing, all you can think about is just how badly you want to be touched right now.

He grabs your hand and leads you up to a private room with tinted windows that spanned from the ceiling to the floor, a beautiful view of the city to be taken in. You follow him, buzzed enough to be ready to go wherever and do whatever, confident and unafraid.

"When did you manage to reserve this?" you asked him as he closes and locks the door and turns to you, eyes glinting.

"Apparently Misun planned this. She talked to the owner, told them it was my birthday, and this private room was ready and set up for us," Johnny gently comes up behind you and slides his strong arms around your middle, kissing the back of your neck before resting his chin on your shoulder. "We can go elsewhere if you want. I just want to spend some alone time with you. No distractions and no prying eyes."

You turn to face him, and his beautiful chocolate eyes have grown darker. His face has taken a stern,serious expression. It sends goosebumps down the back of your arms, butterflies straight to the pit of your stomach, and a sharp ache through the depths of your belly.

"Let's stay here. This is good. It's private," you whisper. You turn away from him to face the view of the skyline, his embrace feeling warm and secure.

He holds you like this for several silent seconds, kissing the shell of your ear gently while you look out. Neither one of you dares to move; you both are at peace and enjoy the feeling and presence of one another, basking in it, letting yourselves indulge in it.

"I have to admit something," you whisper quietly as he holds you close.

"Hm?" he hums, playing with your hands and swaying your hips, embracing his body even closer to yours.

"Back then, you said no attachments and no feelings," you sigh, not daring to look him in the eye as you think back to when you last saw him in college. "The thing is, that whole year that we were hooking up... that whole year, Johnny, I was crazy in love with you."

You hear him inhale and squeeze your body tight, fingers gently digging into the fabric of your dress. You stay still and feel the warm puffs of air blow across the back of your neck as Johnny processes. After a moment, you feel him press a long, gentle kiss on the back of your neck, hands roaming across your skin, leaving tingling trails of goosebumps in their wake.

"We can take this however you want. If you're just looking for something casual, I'm okay with that," he whispers with a hint of a chuckle. He kisses you softly and continues, "But if you're open to something more... if you'd give me another chance..."

You turn slowly in his arms, meeting his warm, caramel-colored gaze. The city lights twinkle behind him, highlighting his chiseled features. He cups your face gently in his large hands, his eyelids lowering at the closeness. "I'll always go at your pace," his voice drops low.

Your hands land on either side of his face and you draw him close, feeling his body melt against yours. "Let's pick up from where we left off, 1o years ago. But this time," you pause and give him an affirmative smile before leaning into his awaiting lips. "I want all of it, Johnny. The dates, the sex, the arguing, the compromising and the intense makeup sex, waking up next to you and feeling like home. All of it."

"Fuck, me too. I want it all, all of you," he grins as his words dripped from his mouth and onto your lips, holding your body tightly to his.

"Oh my god, stop talking and kiss me already," you whisper into his lips.

The moon shines, hanging above the busy streets and city buildings below, lighting up the sky with an ethereal glow. The low rumbling of cars moving down the city streets and people mingling and dancing the night away is distant; the two of you are lost to your own world, content to explore each other with your hands and lips.

Your breathing turns ragged, hitching every time his lips attach to a particularly sensitive spot. He backs you up, slowly, with his arms wrapped around your waist, until the backs of your thighs meet the wall and his broad torso, pinned tightly to yours.

"When's the last time I told you, you're gorgeous as hell?" He says in your ear, nibbling his way down the side of your neck.

"ten years ago? God, stop talking. We've wasted so much time already," you breathed, tangling your fingers into his hair, earning a pleasured groan from the man.

You feel his hot tongue laving over the smooth flesh and relishing how your back arches, your breathing getting heavier. Your pulse raced when he found a certain spot beneath your ear, near your collarbone, that made you let out a weak little cry when he sucked and kissed it. "Feels good?" he mumbles into your skin.

"Very," you hum, placing your hands on the solid chest and shoulder muscles he's grown since college. His once lithe and lanky frame, replaced with solid muscle and definition, a jawline that could cut diamonds, and eyes dark and filled with desire. "Age has really been good to you."

Johnny laughs, and it reverberates against your body, shaking the two of you with its deep vibrations. "Says you. You grew up a lot."

He trails one hand up to the fabric covering your breast and kneads one, plucking at your nipple until you gasp.

"They've definitely gotten a little fuller," Johnny rumbles into your ear, "If I recall correctly." His tongue darts out and traces a path up from your collarbone, hot and wet, swirling against the vein in your neck.

All you can do is let out a whimper in affirmation and dig your nails deeper into his back. Your body is trembling beneath his touch, the delicious feeling of his mouth latched onto that area of your neck, sucking and nibbling the soft skin until he's had his fill. Your head rolls back and the noises escaping your throat become desperate; you claw at his shoulder blades and groan again and again.

"I guess that hasn't changed," he teases with a smirk, voice rumbling across your skin in waves.

"Oh fuck," your entire body trembles, "You've always been able to get me to beg for you. Way too well."

He pulls away from the wet patch of flesh between your neck and shoulder with a small pop and leans his head against yours, trying to slow his breathing.

"Can we continue this someplace with less...window?" Johnny mumbles after a long period of comfortable silence. His deep chocolate brown gaze is languid as his hands caress up and down the side of your body, savoring every curve and edge. "Not that I wouldn't totally have sex in this room with you... But a bed would definitely be more ideal for us, no?"

"Because we're old?" You chuckle. "Sounds about right. We should take our old asses somewhere more comfortable and quiet."

"Who are you calling old?" he murmurs, laughing into your lips. "We're just mature," he insists as his tongue runs along the crease of your lips, gaining entrance.

"Old," you retort back with a gasp and then laugh, feeling his teeth clamp onto your tongue lightly. His laughter is low, rumbling deep from within his chest, resonating off your own and mixing.

"Will you spend the night with me? Back at mine? I mean it. All of it," Johnny clarifies. "Mess around? Curl in bed. Wake up and cuddle? I've missed cuddling you," his face becomes serious, turning from teasing and flirty to longing and sincere, with a gentle tenderness showing across his eyes and face. He brings his hand up to cup the side of your face, staring into your eyes, searching, willing for you to agree.

"I don't know if I can wait, I kind of just want to jump you right now," you respond back.

"Yeah?" Johnny huffs out a laugh, looking around the private room. "Right now?"

"I mean, there's a couch right here," you joke and tilt your head to the cushy leather sofa sitting at the side. "Can I at least suck you off here, and then we go back to yours to continue the night?" you ask softly, slowly pushing him backward towards the seating. "Then maybe," your hands land on his belt buckle, gently slipping your thumbs between the leather strap, pulling it away from his body and giving you the chance to remove the metal piece. "Maybe later we can take our time? Go slow or fast, soft or hard...in your bed..."

"Fuck. Sure, sure. Anything," Johnny responds breathily, not putting up any resistance as he is guided back onto the leather seating, scooting backwards until his back is resting against the cushion. "Whatever you want."

Your eyes drop from his, and your eyelashes flutter softly, focusing on the belt unclasping, buttons being opened and the zipper being slowly lowered.

"Jesus christ," Johnny's voice is hushed. "How do you still fucking do this to me? Even ten years later?"

Your heart melts at his statement, and you pull yourself closer and wrap your fingers around his waistband, peeling the material down his hips and freeing his thick member, causing Johnny to audibly groan when his erection sprang out, now pressed tightly against his stomach.

The smell of his intoxicating musk fills your nostrils, and your head immediately becomes woozy. Your heart picks up, almost skipping a beat, and the rush of blood starts to make you dizzy. You've almost forgotten the effect his cock and his arousal had on you. The thick vein underneath and how it'd pulse against your hand. The swollen, red tip and the liquid pearl leaking out.

"Damn, I missed this cock. So fucking much," you whispered before lowering your head to give the leaking tip an experimental kitten-lick.

"Fuck," his legs twitch from the action, and he bites back a curse. Then he growls, "Go ahead, put those pretty lips around me like the good girl I remember."

Without another word, you flatten your tongue at the base of his member and slowly move up towards the tip. He stiffens further and his breathing picks up and his pupils dilate, enraptured with watching you.

With half lidded eyes, you lock gazes with him, never once looking away as you begin to lower your mouth onto him. He twitches slightly as you swirl your tongue around him, bobbing up and down at a steadily increasing pace. A bit salty, but also fresh and earthy, your taste buds get an alluring hit, just a small sample of what he would taste like when you have him completely. Your nails gently dig into his outer thighs and he sucks in a breath, trying and failing not to buck up into your hot, slick heat.

"Feel better than you remembered?" You tease.

"Mmm, the same and different," he replies. "A lot…dirtier than you were back then."

"Yeah?" Your hand grips the shaft and begins pumping up and down the velvety hot length, thumb running up and down his length, pressing your fingers into the areas you know drive Johnny crazy.

"Baby," he hisses in a low, throaty grunt, eyes sliding shut, languidly rolling his hips and driving further up into your hand. He enjoys the smooth, tight pressure, and the way your grip firms when his cock grows to its fullest, leaking thick beads of pre cum. You swallow and suck, hollowing your cheeks as you swirl your tongue in an obscene motion along the leaking head. "Baby, don't stop. God, that feels good. Just like that."

With a sly, glinting look, you press open-mouthed kisses and long licks to the sides of his cock and balls. With your free hand you slowly reach out to rub over the spot behind his testicles, massaging and stroking, and you drag him back into the present with the touch. Johnny makes an involuntary jerk and then quickly relaxes back against the seat. Your stomach flutters with anticipation, unable to stop the wide smirk spreading across your face as you enjoy this, having his hot length stretching your lips wide and stuffed down your throat. His groans sound like music to your ears.

Johnny threads his hands into the locks of your hair as the only warning you would get before yanking your face against his groin and keeping you in place as his cock jerked inside the confines of your cheeks, sending a thick white ribbon of semen straight to the back of your throat. You feel his hot sticky cum coming up to coat the back of your throat, spurting it straight down. His hips rock in erratic jerks as his hand wraps itself firmly around the back of your neck, rubbing comforting little circles onto your skin.

"That's my girl," Johnny coo's sweetly. "Swallow it for daddy." He watches in arousal and satisfaction, enjoying the show, as you open your mouth and stick out your tongue. It’s covered with ropes of thick white cum, and there's some lingering inside. But you did a thorough job of swallowing his load down like you always did.

"Daddy?" you question with a playful eyebrow raised. "That's a new one."

"We're older now," he remarks and leans forward. Johnny wipes at the corner of your lips, cleaning the remnants off your face, as well as the trail of saliva and his arousal that are pooling at the edge of your lips. "It would have been weird for a twenty year old me to ask a twenty year old you to call me daddy. Ten years later, older Johnny can't help himself," Johnny admits with a goofy grin.

"Fair, though. We are thirty. Older and wiser," you shrug your shoulders as if agreeing. "It's kinda hot."

Johnny shoots you a pleased grin. "Good," is his only response before helping you tuck him back into his underwear and pants. His eyes wander back to your red-swollen lips and a low chuckle comes out. "Shit, you look so tempting," he admires, getting a hard-on all over again at the mere thought. "Do you want more, baby?"

"Yessir," you whine, feeling his lips drag wet and languid all across the sides of your exposed neck. "Let's go back to your place and do something about this," you whisper, grabbing the edge of his hand and pulling it gently to your wet core. "I feel empty without you, and you're the only thing that'll fix it. Think you're up for the task, Daddy?"

"Fuck baby, I think I just got even harder," Johnny growls, desire surging through him at your bold, straightforward statement.

It didn't take long for Johnny to close his apartment door with his foot and roughly shove you against the wooden material, hand slithering through the inside of your thigh and tugging up, urging your leg around his hip as his fingers bury themselves between your drenched folds.

"God you're soaked," he moans into your collarbone. He peppers you with kisses as he slips his fingers under your panties and against your dripping core. You groan and drop your head back. He shoves his tongue down your throat when his long index finger finds and begins to rub in small circles at the swollen bundle of nerves, drawing a raspy moan from your chest.

"Tell me what you want," he demands huskily into your mouth. "I'm not moving unless you say it."

"Johnny," you grind down against the finger, seeking out more friction and chasing after the feeling of being pleasured by his touch, a sensation you have missed for over a decade and had forgotten just how addictive it could be. You whine, desperately trying to keep your balance on one foot, still holding onto the fabric of his shirt in your hands, trying to find a way to let out your frustration. "Please!"

"Mm? I'm listening..." he hums with a smirk. His chocolate brown orbs have darkened and gleamed with hunger. Johnny presses his palm against your pelvic bone and applies more pressure. "Come on. You can do better than that. What do you want daddy to do?" he asks. "Use your words baby girl. It's not very nice to keep me waiting, now is it? Especially not after all these years and a special birthday celebration for me."

"Johnny..." his name is a moan falling past your lips.

"Yes, that's me. What do you want, sweet thing?" He coos. "Come on, tell Daddy. Tell me what you've been wanting for ten years," Johnny keeps his hand and the rest of his body still. The only thing moving, continuing its stimulating assault on your poor aching core, is that damnable, tortuous finger rubbing back and forth.

"Fuck me," you hiss in reply, grinding against his hand with abandon.

His breath catches in his throat and you watch him visibly react at the admission, eyes clouding over and narrowing on your figure pressed tightly against him, against the door. "Say it again," he repeats.

"Fuck me. Fill me up. Put your dick in me. Do whatever the hell you want. But do it already!" Your words spill from your lips frantically in desperation and he complies, immediately, lifting you up by your ass, feeling you instinctively wrapping your legs and arms around him, and depositing you onto the bed.

He undresses himself before collapsing on top of you, a broad smile adorning his flushed features as his strong hands brush away the hair from your face.

"If I remember right," he begins, mouth dangerously close to yours, sharing breaths. His forehead rests against yours, and his eyes flutter shut, bringing a hand down and slipping two fingers back under the fabric of your underwear, pressing his knuckles against your swollen bundle of nerves, alternating between pinching and stroking.

"You're sensitive," his breath dances across your skin as his skilled digits work at building you back up. "Here especially," he states and kisses your parted lips, coaxing his tongue against yours in a tender, sensual way that does little to quell the throb in the lower region of your belly.

You gasp as his middle finger finally slips between your drenched lips, he swirled your arousal around your entrance before gliding upwards.

"And this," Johnny draws his hand back, staring intently into your blown-out eyes while his fingers disappear inside his mouth. A guttural sound that seems like a cross between a grunt and growl rolls from his throat, sucking his own fingers. "Tastes just as good as the last time. Ten years have done nothing to ruin your taste."

"Johnny..." you gasp.

"Yeah baby, I'm here," he wastes no time shimmying your dress down to your waist, nipping along the valley of your breasts. Your fingers grip at his hair and a giggle leaves your lips.

He lifts himself from the valley of your chest and sits up, face hovering above your own. One of his hands reaches out to cradle your jaw and gently hold your chin. The thumb of his other hand slips into your mouth, forcing your lips to part further. "Suck."

A burst of something feral awakens deep inside you, and your gaze becomes dark, needy and craving. You part your lips further and roll the soft pad of his thumb around and along your teeth, swirling your tongue, drawing circles and moving up and down across its width.

He inhales sharply as the same feral emotion, the need and want, passes through him. You look absolutely angelic with those hooded eyelids and the sinfully lustful look in your eyes, locked onto his.

"Let me eat you out," Johnny finally breaks the spell, breathing labored as he loses the fight to maintain the upper hand. "And after that, I'm gonna bury myself deep inside of you and fill you up just like how you asked me to, again and again until morning. Until both of us can't fucking stand, walk straight or form coherent sentences. Can I?" he rasps.

You simply nod your head enthusiastically. "Yes," you croak. "Please Johnny."

Johnny lets go of the finger in your mouth and drags down the soft swell of your breast, leaving red welts and hickies in his wake. With a satisfied grin, he presses a kiss to the mark and continues trailing the wet trail, dragging your dress all the way down and pulling your soaked panties off.

"Here baby," Johnny taps a finger against your inner thigh and lays flat on the bed, positioning his broad shoulders between your spread thighs. "Thighs, please," he says in a commanding tone and the hint of authority causes a gush to form between your thighs and coat them.

You bite your lip and make no objections and instead position yourself, your thighs pressed against his shoulders, his head positioned comfortably in between, and then his tongue is on you, and your brain short-circuits. You couldn't remember ever being as close or feeling this turned on, the feeling of being completely raw and vulnerable. He adds his two thick fingers alongside his tongue, probing and exploring, and in combination with his sucking mouth, they are expertly playing your pussy like a fucking symphony.

"Good?" he looks up and licks a broad, long stripe, pausing to wrap his lips around your bundle of nerves and then moves back down to tease around your hole. "Tell daddy. How does my girl feel?" He slowly pushes his fingers deep in you and presses and rotates against a particular spot inside, causing you to shiver involuntarily.

"Don't stop!" you demand hoarsely.

"Gonna cum for me?" he continues languidly and brings up his thumb, massaging it gently into your clit in tight, circular motions. "Is my baby going to squeeze her thighs around my head and choke her daddy? Let him suffocate in her cunt?"

"Oh fuck," his lewd words have your insides squirming. "So good, don't stop, just...ugh, keep, just.."

"Your pussy tastes so fucking good. Wish you could see this pretty thing drippin' in front of my face. And the way it's dripping wet," a loud slurp sounds. "So perfect. Would stay between these legs all day. Missed eating this pussy, feeling it pulse against my face as I got it to cum all over me. Goddamn, you feel so perfect," Johnny exhales out another strained grunt, losing his mind, eating you with an unchecked thirst, lapping, biting, and kissing his way around your insides like a starving man, drinking every last drop. His fingers dig into your hips, holding you firmly against him as your thighs try to squeeze him and shut his face between them.

One hand grabs a fistful of the back of his hair and you push him up closer between your legs. The fingers of your other hand reach up to steady yourself against the headboard and brace yourself against his savage ministrations.

"Right there, please!" your voice cracks at the strain, rolling your hips into his face. "Mm, yes. Y-you're so good with your fucking tongue," you let out a keening moan, gripping the back of his head tightly. You can feel him laughing against your skin, fingers still thrusting and scissoring inside you. Your hips thrust upwards with no rhyme or rhythm.

The tell-tale fluttering against his fingertips causes Johnny's tongue to speed up, focusing on your bundle of nerves, and rubbing it until a long, drawn-out whine falls past your lips. "Yes! Oh fuck. Johnny!"

"That's it, sweetheart," his encouraging growl rumbles straight through your sensitive body and has your stomach flip-flopping around the best orgasm you've had in years. "Good girl, ride the waves for daddy. Cum for me. Let me see you fall apart," a grunt escapes his lips, his muscles tense against you. "Wanna feel you like this everyday. Wanna be your fuck toy, wanna be the only one between these legs and in this pussy and your mind. Use me however you fucking want, baby."

Johnny rides you through the waves of orgasms, slowing his movements but not stopping. It takes a while before your lungs work again and before your heartbeat settles from being in your ears and into your chest. When you finally calm, Johnny lowers his mouth from your pulsing sex and offers an endearing chuckle at the state he left you in, still recovering and struggling for breath, sweating with limbs spread out and panting.

"Now tell daddy," his voice is low, taking the position above you, leaning all his weight onto his hands and looking straight at you. His eyes are so intense, you could drown in his dark, fiery chocolate irises. "How does she want to be fucked tonight?" Johnny leans in closer, the tip of his cock rubbing against you. "She can have me anyway she'd like," he languidly thrusts forward, once. Twice.

The wet noises your arousal is making and the light buzz coursing through you from the previous orgasm, combined with his relentless teasing and talking has your mouth working on its own. "I should be asking you since this is a special day for you. It's your birthday, what do you want, old man?"

"Just you. You’re the gift, and that's enough for me," he exhales a low, soft groan at the sensation.

"Sappy," you croak, mustering a soft huff in between breaths and smiling as his shaft glides into your wet, heated folds.

"Baby, if it means I could stay this way," his fingers tap at the spot right above your pelvis and press. "This close and deep in you," a groan escapes him at the thought of what the future could possibly hold. "I want to spend every damn birthday I have inside you." His breath tickles your nose, and his lips graze against your ear before planting a searing, hot kiss against the pulse point. "Think we could make that happen?"

"Depends," your legs instinctively wrap around his waist, holding him flush to your hips and you shudder against the sensation when you feel the length of him drag deliciously across your walls.

"On what?" He asks, fully seated within your slick warmth.

"Whether you could keep it up and give it to me like I like," you taunt back in a husky voice.

"Watch your words," Johnny growls in a warning tone, unable to hide his amusement. He picks up his pace, fucking you deeper into the sheets, as your fingernails dig into his back and shoulders.

"Come on Daddy," you purred against his ear, leaning over to graze his cartilage with your teeth, delighting in his short grunt. "Fuck your birthday present as hard as you can. This gift is not going anywhere," you waggled your eyebrows and couldn't resist, placing your thumb against the tip of his nose and swiping it. "That is, unless you're too old..."

His eyes narrowed. "Guess I'll just have to shut that smartass mouth of yours. Because, oh baby, it's gonna be a long night."

He thrust into you deeply, bottoming out.

"Mmph!" you moaned against his shoulder, struggling to breathe at the sudden overwhelming fullness.

"We'll start with you being quiet," Johnny shifts the position, grasping your leg and guiding it higher up his waist, allowing his hips to sink lower. "That's right," his breathy voice pants against the skin of your neck, licking his way towards the hollow space at the base. "Be good, be quiet, or you won't get this cock back until you've learned some manners."

This was different, so different from the young Johnny. You whimper quietly, as your mouth refuses to form words to respond, choosing to bite into the fleshy part of his shoulders to stop the string of sounds, your lips are unwilling to be controlled.

"Much better," there's no mistaking the pleased tone in his voice.

In this position, his thrusts feel deeper than before and are a much slower, drawn out pace. There's more control. You can't do a single thing except grasp at his muscular arms and hang on as he works on destroying you completely, and he enjoys every moment. Johnny keeps at an almost painfully slow pace, grinding deeply into you before withdrawing excruciatingly slowly, until only his swollen head remains in your opening.

You turn to whisper an endearingly loud "Fuck," in his ear when his large hands seize your wrists and pin them together above your head, and he stops thrusting completely. "Nuh-uh." his nose brushes against your neck.

"What are the rules?" Johnny inquires smoothly. "I won't move a muscle unless you tell me."

"Johnny...I can't.." you gripped his shoulder. "Feels so good. I don't know if I can keep quiet."

"Try for me, baby," he murmurs in response. "Try, and I promise, it'll be worth the wait," Johnny re-assures. "And then our next round, I'll have you screaming and moaning whatever obscenities you want. All you have to do is try to be a good girl, keep quiet while I ruin you for any other cock but mine. Can you do that, sweet girl?"

All you could do in response was nod desperately.

"Good girl," he says and the phrase lights you up inside in a way that's not humanly possible to handle. He then goes back to fucking the ever living shit out of you, increasing the intensity and pace. The sound of the mattress squeaking, the groaning, the banging of the bedpost against the wall, your quiet whimpers and Johnny's filthy grunts fill the air.

"Fuck!" Johnny lets go of your hands and grabs hold of the headboard to brace himself, pounding mercilessly into your slick pussy. "God I love you. You have no idea how much I've missed this pussy, missed you." His forehead rests on the side of your jaw, lips tracing along your exposed throat. "Go ahead, baby. Make all the noise you want."

At the explicit permission, your hand reaches up and clasps onto his arm. Johnny hears the soft inhales of oxygen leaving your lungs. Your heartbeat pounds in your chest at the overwhelming feeling. It wasn't going to take long.

"Close," you manage to squeeze the words out in a broken croak, slithering your fingers into his sweaty tangle of hair.

Johnny entwined his fingers with yours, his touch sending a surge of warmth through you. "Y/N," he whispered, his voice husky, "look at me."

You look at him, your breath getting trapped inside your lungs. With a deliberate brush of his fingertips against your skin, he picks up a strand of loose hair. You could never grow tired of the sight of his long eyelashes fluttering, gazing lovingly and tenderly at you as if you're the most precious and most important thing in the entire universe.

"Keep them on me, no matter what. If you do that, baby girl," the dark, intoxicating gleam in his hooded eyes paired with the absolutely feral way he is staring at you is almost too much. "I'll give you whatever you ask. But don't come without me."

He groans loudly and snaps his hips even more rapidly. "Fuck baby, keep tightening against me like that and I'm going to fill you up, make your belly swell full," he huffs out another deep moan, losing the steady pace and falling victim to the pulsing clenching of your walls. "Give you all I've got."

"Cum in me," your rasp is followed by an even louder cry, completely overcome with sensations that seem to be converging. "P-please..fuck. Fill me. Put that seed deep inside, give me that cum, daddy. Fill me with it."

At this, all hell seems to break loose, and his hips begin slamming into you so rapidly, you swear your teeth are rattling. Johnny releases one of his hands from the headboard and slides it between your joined hands.

"Keep looking at me," his command is broken and erratic, clearly affected by your begging. The neediness dripping from your tone and the want in your blown out, lust filled eyes has him aching to grant you your wish. His free fingers dig into the flesh of your hips, anchoring him to the world.

"Goddamnit, baby, you want my load, you'll get it. Going to paint these walls white and then plug your pussy full of my cock. Stretch you around my base. Keep that cum there and locked tight inside of you, while I flip you over and do it all over again, just for you," he rasped. "Again and again, and again. Gonna pump you full until your tummy is so swollen you can't move."

You cry out at the possibility, tightening your fingers with his. Johnny continues his rhythm, using his entire body to pleasure you, his pelvis grinding mercilessly and bringing his mouth against the pulsing in the apex of your neck and shoulder.

Johnny pants. "Put a baby inside that beautiful womb of yours," his voice trails off, his head dips low. "Mm, and if not this time, well, we'll just have to keep trying. Won't we, baby?"

You hear the squeak of the wood groaning at the strength the two of you are exerting in this position and you clench at his words.

"Let Daddy breed you, hmm?" Johnny murmurs in an airy voice, pulling back just enough to have his face hovering near yours. "You want daddy's babies? Make your tummy all swollen and beautiful for me?" he whispered against your lips, kissing you and nibbling, suckling the sensitive skin.

That does it, and it sets you off. A half-sob, half scream tears through your throat as your core tightens, the pulsing, spasms spreading from the center. Johnny moans in your ear, his teeth grazing your neck, and his hips continuing to thrust despite your own are what pulls him over the edge after you.

"Fuck," he swears and grunts your name in an unfamiliar, desperate rasp. Johnny grinds against you a little longer, helping the both of you through the last aftershocks. His lips return to yours, latching on softly. "That's right baby girl, such a good girl. Mm, coming for me the way I knew you could." He gently praises as his hands explore the sweaty expanse of your skin, hips still jerking ever so slightly with each spurt and moan of relief.

You cannot find the strength, physically, to return the words. Instead, you nuzzle into his sweaty neck, drinking in the smell, committing it to your memories and mind forever, wrapping your limbs tight around his body like a sloth. He wraps his hands behind you, cradling and steadying you, mindful of the dizzying bliss that courses through you, his warm forehead on yours. Johnny holds you firmly.

"You've done well," he said lovingly. "Just breathe, good girl."

Johnny pulls back a moment to settle beside you, with your head against the firmness of his arm and peppered several more kisses. "Good?" he questions softly.

"Did you feel good?" Your mouth parts in a toothy grin as you use every bit of strength you have to turn into his shoulder, pushing the damp strands away from his forehead. "Is my old man satisfied with his birthday gift?" you exhaled and caressed his face.

Johnny lets out a deep, satisfying sound that's a cross between a laugh and grunt, eyes flashing as they lock onto yours. "Could've done without the 'old man' crack, but yes," his thick fingers slowly brush over your temple and jawline. "I'm thrilled and completely satisfied with my gift. Fuck baby," Johnny presses a kiss onto the sensitive tip of your nose, which in turn wrinkles. "We should have been doing this a helluva lot longer."

"It's okay," you reassured him, taking his palm and entangling your fingers through his. "We have our whole lifetime now to make up for those missed years." You giggle. "Because like it or not, Johnny Suh, you're stuck with me. No takesies-backsies."

"Noted," his smile reaches his eyes, creasing and sparking at your silliness. He notices your eyes beginning to droop and an amused sigh escapes him, slowly guiding your body on top of his. "I know that was a lot for you. Are you sore? Tired? We can have a bath and have you resting before the sun rises, how about that?"

"Bath and then snuggling sound perfect," you nudge the side of your face into his chest, drawing on an even breathing.

"That's my girl," he coos, slipping the unruly tendrils of hair, hanging into the front of your face and tickling him, behind your ear. "I love you. Today has been the best birthday I've ever had."

"Happy birthday, Johnny," you're practically vibrating with content, draping yourself even more comfortably, perfectly content to fall asleep right where you are. "I love you too."

#kvanity #ksmutsociety #nct #nct 127 #nct scenarios #nct stories #nct fanfic #nct fanfics #nct imagines #nct smut #Johnny Suh #johnny seo #Johnny #nct johnny #johnny smut #johnny x reader

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cosmosluckycharms · 22 hours ago

Text

Bug Like Angel

He gets me so high

ty to that one anon who gave me the idea for this

tecnically this takes place between parts 4 and 5

so i guess this would be part 4.5?

anon ily for givijg me this idea

kind of a short chapter lol

You got into an argument earlier.

It wasn't over anything serious, you don't even remember what it was about.

All you remember is Damian telling you you weren't worthy of being part of his father's bloodline.

That stung a little.

You tried defending yourself and telling the others in hopes of others taking your side.

Only for everyone to take his.

"He's had a hard life," Dick said to you, still looking at Damian.

"So have I!" went unsaid, as you put your head down and looked at the floor.

It isn't fair!

It isn't fair how he walked away Scott free smirking as if he won!

It isn't fair how you were the only one scolded by Alfred and Bruce for arguing!

It isn't fair how you ran to your room to cry!

It isn't fair how you had no one on your side!

You needed someone on your side.

After a while of sobbing on your pillow (which was now wet), you felt your phone buzz and your ringtone go off. You were getting a call from Hobie.

It wasn't rare for him to call you, all of the spider-kids call each other at random times of the day to just talk about whatever.

One time you called them all at 3 am because you thought of a dumb invention that 'could change lives', only for Gwen to tell you it already existed, and didn't change lives.

One time, Miles called you to tell you he got 100 on his physics test.

One time, Hobie called you because he didn't know how long he should cook something in the microwave.

One time, Peni called you to tell you how she accidentally bought 3 copies of the same book. Again.

One time, Gwen called you at 1 am to ask if you could dye her hair again since her hair dye was fading again.

One time, Pavitr called you to ask which Valentine's gift he should give Gayatri since he was stuck between two options. He ended up choosing both gifts for her.

It was normal for everyone to call anyone for any reason.

You tried to wipe your tears and clear your voice so you could pretend you were fine, and you picked up the phone to talk to him.

As soon as you picked up, he started rambling about how his day went.

You didn't mind calling him, it took your mind off things.

Hobie felt something was off. Sure, you were listening to him intently, but you usually had your camera on and played with stupid filters while he talked. You didn't have your camera on like usual.

He decided to not bring it up and just let you tell him when you were ready.

"Anywho, I bought around 54 boxes of Girl Scout cookies-" Hobie said, while holding up a box of Thin Mints to the camera

"why did you buy 54??" you said in disbelief, your voice slightly cracking, which you cringed at.

"Don't worry about it." you laughed a little at that.

"Keep your window open, I'm on my way." you saw him start walking on camera

"Why?" you asked

"Get ready, we're going out," he said while grabbing 5 boxes of the Girl Scout cookies.

He hung up before explaining anything.

You got up from your bed and decided to fix yourself up a bit before he came over.

You redid your makeup because it smeared while you were crying.

After 5 minutes, you heard a knock on your window.

You went to see what it was, and Hobie was knocking at your window looking a little stupid.

You unlocked it and opened the window.

"I thought you were gonna unlock it?" Hobie said already looking around your room and making himself at home.

He and the others have come over a lot, it's somewhat surprising that none of your family noticed.

"I forgot!" you said while shrugging your shoulders. It wasn't a lie, you did forget.

"You're always forgetting, never remembering," Hobie said, lying on your comfy bed.

"Okay so I forget a couple of times and suddenly I'm always forgetful, I dye Gwen's hair and cut my own, does that make me a barber?" you said, dramatically before flopping onto your bed next to Hobie.

"So, what's got you all miffed?" he asked while playing around with a plushie that was on your bed.

"What do you mean?" you sat up to look at him in confusion.

"Miffed: somewhat annoyed; peeved," Hobie explained.

"No, not about what miffed means, I know what that means, but what do you mean?" you asked, tilting your head slightly.

"I mean, you look pissed, what happened?" he asked, while playing around with a volleyball he got from who knows where.

You started fidgeting with your hands. "Well, me and Damian got into an argument earlier. I don't even remember what it was about. He said I wasn't worthy of Bruce's blood. Which honestly did hurt a little. What really pissed me off was how no one took my side. How no one defended me. How no one checked up on me after I ran to my room and cried." A tear ran down your cheek. You couldn't tell if it was from anger or sadness.

Hobie sat up and cleared the tear away from your cheek. "C'mon Tinkerbell, let's get outta here," He said, while getting up and stretching.

"And go where?" you got up as well.

"Anywhere. It's clear everyone here is bonkers." He started walking towards your window.

"Okay, just gimmie a sec!" You ran to grab your wallet and phone and followed him out the window.

You were now atop the bat signal, next to Hobie.

After raiding a gas station for its snacks (which you knew Alfred would never approve of) you guys were just sitting down in silence.

It was pretty nice, you were leaning on Hobie as he lit up what you thought was a cigarette.

Turns out it wasn't. You realized as soon as the smell of weed hit you.

You watched as he passed you the blunt, "Want a hit?"

You hesitated for a moment. What would your family think about this?

Hobie saw you hesitating, and not wanting to make you uncomfortable said "Don't do it if you don't want to."

You decided to do it.

Fuck what your family thinks about this.

Fuck your family. Fuck them all. Fuck Damian, fuck Dick, fuck Jason, fuck Bruce, and fuck Alfred.

They didn't care, they didn't defend you, they don't notice you, why would they notice or care about this?

They were probably dressed in their stupid spandex costumes beating people up.

A long time ago you longed and begged to be one of them.

What is the worst that can happen anyway?

"pass me it."

Hobie then taught you how to do it. It was a bit scary for you, you haven't ever smoked or done weed or anything before.

You took a hit and immediately started coughing.

"You alright there, luv?" You gave him a thumbs up before taking a couple more hits and getting a hang of it.

You guys started devouring the snacks and telling dumb stories.

You fell off due to jumping to the light from the batsignal suddenly turning on and scaring you. You laughed when Hobie had to pick you up from the rooftop.

You could stay like this forever, just you and your big brother.

hi guys heres some fluff and angst

i feel like since writing these silly little stories my writing has gotten a tiny bit better

im not sure tho

anyways anon ty again i loved writing this

taglist(please lmk if i forgot you!):@bath1lda @mariadvorak @coralaura @tsxukikami @hjgdhghoe @coffeeaddictxd @cxcilla @kaitense1 @star-girl-interlud3 @sukaretto-n @welpthisisboring @itsberrydreemurstuff @lovebug-apple @crazycaoticsimp @bellethesleepypotato @blackhood1229 @jsprien213

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redcherrystars · 1 day ago

Text

Braids 🥀

A/n: STRONGLY based off the mullet Sylus has for Tomorrow’s Catch-22, and what he says in the dress up menu when you change his hairstyle (pulled this morning, got Caleb and then my beloved Sylus ❤️❤️ +his outfit and hair)

Content: (wc 1k) lnds Sylus x afab reader, loads of fluff, pampering Sylus, pet names (sweetie, baby, etc.), just toothrotting fluff

It’s been months since your boyfriend has gotten a haircut.

Sitting criss cross on your bed, you watch as Sylus unbuttons his pressed black button down and peels off his slacks, only to put on a red teeshirt and black pajama pants with white doves on them (you obviously bought, as Onychinus’s leader would likely not purchase for himself). It was a miracle you found a pair of pajama pants in his size so you wouldn’t have to send them to a tailor.

Sylus runs his fingers through his messy white hair, the ends of his mullet like hairstyle now brushing against the top of his shoulders.

“Hey Sy?” You bounce off the bed. Unsurprisingly, you’re dressed in one of his teeshirts, so large it hung off your shoulder, revealing tantalizing collarbone and smooth shoulders

Sylus turns around to face you moments later, pulling his shirt over his head, giving you a brief glimpse of his abs. What a view.

“Yes, sweetie?” Sylus nearly purred. His hands go to your waist, holding you close as he inhales by your scalp—the man just liked your natural scent.

“I can’t sleep!” You whine, internally smiling at a clever idea you concocted.

“Can’t sleep Kitten? What would you like to do then, with all this extra time on your hands?” Sylus glanced to the alarm clock on his nightstand—it was 11:46 PM.

You grin at him cheekily. “Can I do your hair?”

“Can you do my hair now, hmm…let me think..” your boyfriend puts on a fake pensive expression, his white brow furrowing in thought. “I suppose that can be doable.”

“Can I do your skincare too?” You’re beginning to get excited, and he can feel it.

“Alright.” He sighs, squeezing his eyes shut and pinching his nose bridge. You giggle and beam at him, before kissing his jawline, feeling slight scratchy white stubble tickle your lips-it seems he hasn’t shaved in a few days either, not that you mind one bit.

With a giggle you slink out of his arms (much to his disappointment), prancing into the bathroom. Your boyfriend ensured his beloved lived in luxury, and the master bathroom was no exception. High ceilings, a crystal chandelier with warm ambient lighting, black marble tile, and a huge walk-in shower. There was even a clawfoot bathtub large enough for two with space to spare elevated on a black marble platform by a large window, overlooking the cityscape in the N109 zone. With tinted glass, this view was yours and his to share.

On the black shelf next to the double sink, you grab a little bag full of various skincare products, a little plastic container of clear elastics, and your pink hairbrush. Plopping down on the fluffy rug on the bathroom floor, you gesture to Sylus to come and sit between the space between your legs. Reluctantly, he sits down, and lets out a pleased moan when you begin to run your fingers through his hair, messing with the white stands. You wonder if (and if so, when) he will cut his hair, or keep it the same length. His slightly grown out—more of a wolfcut did make your knees weak.

You gently detangle any knots or snags in his hair with your brush, and he sighs with relief as the brush’s bristles massage his scalp. Then, with nimble fingers, you begin putting dainty little braids in the length of his hair, pulling the elastics you used wide with your teeth before securing the braids you made.

“Feels good, huh?” You murmur, grabbing his face with a gentle hand, turning it slightly towards you, and kissing his cheek.

“Feels good.” He confirms. “You’re too sweet baby. I should be the one pampering you.”

“Oh hush you big bogey.” You crawl over him, now sitting between his large legs. With a warm washcloth, you gently wash his face before applying a moisturizer. Sylus had absolutely no idea what the creams you were applying to his cheeks, nose, under eyes and forehead did, but it felt so nice. Once you put a pink kitty face mask on him, you let out a surprised squeak when he flips you around in his lap, and picking up your hairbrush off of the bathroom tile.

Before you know it, his warm fingers are threading through your hair, untangling knots, and brushing out any broken strands of hair. Then Sylus is braiding your hair too, deftly, and one peak in the mirror tells you it’s a french braid.

“When did you learn to do this?” You lean your head back once he secures your braid. Your hair was so long it nearly touched your butt.

“Online video tutorials. Luke and Kieran involuntarily became my models.” All of his efforts made your heart ache and flutter at the same time.

How this man loves you.

“Is this why I found many pink and blue wigs tucked away in the closet a while back?” You ask as he puts a grey crow sheet mask on your face, gently smoothing out the sheet’s wrinkles.

“Mhm. The twins insisted if they were going to be volunteered for practice, they would get to pick out their wig color.” Sylus’s red eyes crease in the corners with mirth.

“Are you sleepy now?” Sylus tilts his head a you.

“Maybe a little..” you mumbled.

“Come on, Sweetie. We can watch a movie until you fall asleep if you’d like.” He offers.

You nod, almost eagerly, and squeal when your big boyfriend scoops you up off of the bathroom floor and carried you into your shared bedroom. Sylus practically tosses you onto the red blankets of your bed, and crawls over you, before rolling under you, having you snuggled up on his chest. Pulling one of the blankets up to your waist, he presses three kisses to your neck.

Sylus puts on a cute animated movie—one you both have watched together a thousand times. “I love you.” He murmurs, tilting your face up and placing a soft chaste kiss to your lips.

“I love you.” You rest your head against his chest, your heart full, your body warm and relaxed in the embrace of his.

You should let Sylus braid your hair more often.

#sylus x you #sylus qin #sylus x mc #l&ds sylus #lnds sylus #love and deepspace sylus #sylus x reader #lads sylus #fluff #pampering #romance #lads mc #lads #lads x reader #love and deepspace

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rosylix · 1 day ago

Note

Hii! I've never requested but I can't get this idea out of my mind..

So basically Felix and reader have been college roommates for a year or two but Felix ends up falling for them and has to tell them cos it’s only a few months till graduation.

Totally understand if you can't do it, but thought I'd ask!

everglow

𝓉𝒽𝒾𝓈 𝓅𝒶𝓇𝓉𝒾𝒸𝓊𝓁𝒶𝓇 𝒹𝒾𝒶𝓂𝓸𝓃𝒹 𝓌𝒶𝓈 𝓮𝓍𝓉𝓇𝒶 𝓈𝓅𝓮𝒸𝒾𝒶𝓁

your best friend and roommate is acting especially sentimental tonight. you try to get to the bottom of it

pairing: felix × gn!reader

wc: 6.3k

content: college au, friends to lovers, feelings realization, shy felix, oblivious reader, fluff, light angst, crying?, pouty lix, kissing, mildly suggestive?, hopeful ending

a/n: my first fulfilled request?? i apologize if this was sitting in my inbox for forever.. i wasn't planning on writing a whole thing but then suddenly. i had an epiphany. ty for helping me out of writers block anon 🫶 i hope this is kinda how you were envisioning it!

[also read on ao3]

—

Your college dorm is a familiar sight, the mess of papers and coffee cups giving away the fact that the end of the year is fast approaching. You've been sharing this space with Felix for the past couple years, both of you working hard to keep your grades up and—hopefully, somehow—graduate?

…You're sure it'll be fine. As long as you do well enough on your capstone project, which is why you're sitting at Felix's desk, dutifully researching. Sometimes you take to his room when you need a change of scenery or just want company; though it's just you right now as Felix had to leave for class earlier.

You're just about to take a stretch break when you hear the front door open and soon enough, Felix trudges into the room. “Still here?” he says when he sees you.

“Unfortunately.” You set your things down and look over at him with a long sigh to convey your exhaustion.

“Dude, same,” he groans, tossing his bag on the floor before flopping down on his bed. “I don't think I've ever been so fucking tired in my life. Why did I pursue higher education again?”

That gets you to laugh a little. “Maybe for some kind of high-paying job and… a sense of accomplishment?” you suggest.

He lets out another groan, rolling over on his side. “But at what fucking cost? Sleep deprivation and a caffeine addiction?” He looks at you with wide, pleading eyes. “Remind me why I'm doing this again.”

You get up and walk over to his bed, sitting down on the edge next to him, a playful smile on your face. “Well, I seem to recall someone who said they wanted to be some hot shot computer engineer.”

He props himself up on one elbow to face you. “Ooh, you think I'm hot?” he says, wiggling his eyebrows.

You give him a look that hopefully conveys how much of an idiot you think he is. “Hot shot, dumbass.”

…Still, it would be dishonest to disagree: your roommate is attractive. Anyone with a working set of eyes can see that.

“Ohh, I see. You think I'm hot shit?”

You roll your eyes so far back it almost hurts. “As if you don't hear that enough.”

He grins, clearly amused and clearly not above shamelessly fishing for compliments. “Oh, but it's so much more fun to hear it from you,” he teases, leaning back against his pillow.

You give him a withering glare but he just reaches out and pats the spot next to him on the bed. “Come sit down.”

You raise an eyebrow at him. “I am literally sitting down.”

“Okay, well, closer, genius.”

You sigh exaggeratedly, but you humor him anyway, scooting over closer to where he's lounging on the bed. You thought that was enough, but this is Felix, and you should have known better. He reaches out and grabs your wrist, gently but firmly tugging you down next to him.

He shifts so he's on his side facing you and grins, clearly satisfied. His hair is messy and there's a hint of dark circles under his eyes, but he still manages to look unfairly attractive.

You shake your head at his antics and let out a long sigh. “Well… You've already made it this far, you know,” you tell him. “Only a few months left of dealing with school, and then you're done.”

“...Yeah.”

He's quiet for a moment, his gaze drifting across your face, a hint of something almost like melancholy in his eyes.

“Why am I kinda sad, though?” he finally asks with a chuckle.

You blink. “Sad? About being done with school?”

He nods. “I mean, I want to be done, god, believe me I do, but…” He blows out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “I dunno, it just doesn't feel as good as I expected it to. And I'm…” He pauses, clearly thinking his words over.

“I'm… gonna miss this, honestly. A lot.”

“This?” You gesture around the room. "You're going to miss this? Our tiny-ass, overpriced apartment?"

He laughs at that. “Not this place, I guess.”

“Then? The constant lack of sleep? Exams? The shitty cafeteria food?”

“Please,” Felix scoffs before taking a deep breath, looking somewhere behind you. “I'm… going to miss this." He looks back at you and pokes your shoulder for emphasis. “This. Us living together. Hanging out all the time. I'm going to miss that.”

You blink, a little taken aback at his earnestness. “Oh,” you say intelligently. “Yeah. I…”

You try to ignore the way your heart is suddenly in your throat. In truth, you've been doing your best not to think about it, how things will inevitably change after graduation.

“I mean…” you start. “It's not like we're never going to see each other again or something. We'll keep in touch, right?” But even as you say it, you feel yourself deflating. It’s not the same.

His expression reflects yours, his smile soft but a little sad around the edges. “...Of course we will.” He sounds like he's saying it as much to himself as he is to you.

He's silent for another moment, his fingers gently running over the blanket, not quite meeting your gaze.

“It won't… be the same though,” he says, mirroring your own thoughts. “Like— you know? I'm gonna miss the convenience store we always go to at 2AM, I'm gonna miss our late-night study sessions and the shitty coffee you make, I'm gonna miss how you always use up the hot water in the shower and your annoying alarm waking me up at fuck-ass in the morning—” He suddenly cuts off, a flush rising in his cheeks.

He turns on his back again, slinging an arm over his eyes. “Ugh, I don't know, just shut up and let me wallow in my feelings.”

You're honestly a little speechless. All that, things he claims are annoying — he's going to miss it all that much?

“Hey,” you say gently, nudging his shoulder. “Hey, you sap, look at me.”

“No. I'm wallowing.”

You roll your eyes. “I can see that.” You poke his arm. Then again, harder. “Come on, look at me.”

Felix huffs dramatically, lowering his arm and turning his head to look at you from the corner of his eye. “What? I’m looking.”

Your heart clenches at the sight of him. He's pouting, looking a little petulant but still so endearingly cute, and you can definitely see the hint of embarrassment in his gaze as he peeks at you.

You let a smile spread across your face. “You're gonna miss me.”

Felix averts his gaze, his cheeks going a little pinker. “I mean, a little, I guess,” he mumbles, before letting out a heavy, dramatic sigh. “Ugh, why are you looking at me like that? Don't let it go to your head or anything.”

It's so obvious that it's more than just a little — but you decide not to call him out on it. Instead, you lean forward, propping yourself up with one arm. “Too late,” you tease, grinning widely. “You're gonna miss me so much.”

He groans, throwing his forearm over his eyes again. "Whatever. Shut up.”

You look at him silently for a moment, taking in his flushed face and his messy hair. God, he's so cute. You've always been aware of how pretty he is, but there's something about seeing him like this, completely unguarded and vulnerable, that's making your lungs feel tight.

You clear your throat awkwardly, shifting your gaze away from him. “Hey, come on, cheer up.”

“No,” he says, still hiding his face behind his arm. “I'll just lay here and wallow and die."

“So dramatic,” you chide, poking his side roughly, trying to distract yourself from your own thoughts. You're starting to feel a little flustered too.

He whines at the contact, swatting at your hand, but you notice he hasn't moved his other arm away from his face. “Ow, hey, violence,” he complains, curling away from your fingers. “Ow, ow, dude—”

You reach out and grab his wrist, pulling his hand away from his face. He lets out a half-hearted protest, but doesn’t get the chance to resist.

Oh. His eyes are shining.

You freeze.

He's pouting again, but it's less childish now and more vulnerable, embarrassed. For a moment you just sort of stare, suddenly hyper-aware of how close the two of you are. His face is so close, so pretty, and your heart is doing something strange, beating rapidly in your chest.

“You’re—” You clear your throat, struggling with what to say. You… hadn’t realized how much this was impacting him.

He looks away and blinks hard, but his eyes are still a bit misty, unshed tears stubbornly sticking to his eyelashes. “Sorry. I'm being stupid,” he finally says, his voice a little quiet. “Ignore me, I'm just being weird, it's—” He swallows. “...I'm tired.”

Oh, god. You've been joking and teasing and making fun, but now you just feel like the biggest jerk, because he's actually really upset about this.

“Wait, no,” you murmur, suddenly serious. “No, it’s not— You're not being stupid. I—” You're having a lot more trouble than usual forming coherent sentences.

Your hand is still around his wrist, your fingers pressing against his pulse point. You squeeze it lightly. “It's okay.” You can feel the rapid beating of his heart, in contrast to the rest of him lying completely still. “It's not stupid. I’m— I'm gonna miss you too, idiot.”

He lets out a wet sounding laugh at that, rolling his eyes, but he doesn’t pull his arm away from your grip. “So mean,” he says. “Do you have to insult me to say nice things?”

“Well, yeah.”

The corners of his mouth twitch and you feel a bit of relief that you've managed to cheer him up a little.

“But you mean it?” He looks up at you with a shy expression. “You're gonna miss me?”

“Of course,” you say, suddenly struck by how much you mean it. “Yeah, I am. A lot.��

He lets out a low breath, eyes flicking over your face. “Yeah?” he says quietly.

It's silent for a moment. Felix is still looking at you, a little shyly, and it's driving you a little crazy. He sighs, his brow pinched slightly, like he’s struggling with some internal conflict. You wait patiently, giving him space to express what he wants to say.

But he doesn't. Just averts his eyes and blinks harshly at the wall behind you.

“Please don't cry or I'll start crying too,” you say with a bit of a nervous laugh.

Felix lets out a shaky breath. “...I’m not going to cry.”

You give him a look.

“I’m not,” he insists, using his free hand to rub his eyes. “I have allergies or something, I just— I—”

He hesitates, clearly trying to gather his thoughts.

“Okay, look,” he sits up, pulling his wrist free from your grip and taking a deep breath. “It's just— I…” He stops, running a hand through his hair nervously.

“Felix?” you ask, sitting up too. You're starting to get a little concerned. Why is the mood suddenly so weird?

He groans, burying his face in his hands, his voice muffled when he speaks. “This is embarrassing.”

It doesn't help your concern. “What’s embarrassing?” you ask carefully, trying to keep your voice steady.

“This,” he mutters, still hiding his face.

You hesitate a moment, not really knowing what to do, before tentatively reaching out and touching his arm. “Um… It's fine, you can talk to me.”

He lets out a frustrated breath before finally looking at you. “You’re not gonna like it.”

Oh. “Well… Did you… like, kill someone or something?”

Felix stares at you for a moment, clearly trying to keep a straight face but his lips twitch a little. “No, I didn’t kill anyone, you psychopath,” he says dryly.

“Okay, well, good,” you say, clearing your throat. “No illegal activities? The government isn't after you?”

“I… No,” he says slowly.

This conversation is taking a bizarre turn. “And you're not, like… secretly an alien sent to spy on humans this whole time? And… now you have to return to your home planet to plot the annihilation of Earth?”

That finally gets Felix to laugh. “You're— you're a fucking idiot,” he says through giggles. “Seriously.”

“I’m just checking,” you say, crossing your arms. “You're being all weird and shit and…” you gesture vaguely. “Maybe you're an alien. I don't know.”

That only sets him off giggling again. “Oh my god,” he says, leaning his forehead on your shoulder, his body shaking with laughter. “Why are you so dumb.”

You roll your eyes, just relieved to see him smile. He's much more relaxed now, the mood in the room lifted with his laughter. All part of your plan. You're more than happy to appear ridiculous if it means seeing him laugh.

He finally stops laughing, though he’s still smiling a little as he lifts his head and looks at you. He’s much closer than you anticipated, and you try not to be too distracted by the freckles around his eyes and the way his eyelashes flutter when he blinks as his gaze flicks across your face. He’s looking at you intently, and the air in the room feels charged, electric almost.

“You…” he starts, but hesitates, cutting himself off with a shake of his head. “Why are you so dumb,” he repeats.

Wow. “Now who's being mean?” you pout.

He laughs again, but it’s softer than before, a shaky, nervous sound. “God, I— this is so stupid, I—”

He lets out a frustrated breath, staring directly into your eyes, his expression intense and focused. “How do you not notice,” he mutters under his breath.

You’re frozen under his gaze, your heart suddenly in your throat. “Notice… what?”

Felix closes his eyes. “Nevermind. It doesn’t matter.”

What? “It seems like it matters since you’re…”

He opens his eyes again, looking a bit pained as he looks at you. “Just… just forget it.”

You don’t know what to say. You can feel your heart beating wildly in your chest, your hands shaking slightly. “Uh… okay,” you say. “Sorry for… being dumb…?”

He grimaces. “No, I didn't mean it like—”

He lets out a long, heavy breath, shaking his head. Then he reaches out and takes your hand, his fingers brushing against your wrist.

His voice is quieter when he speaks, looking down, idly playing with your fingers. “Just… you’re supposed to notice,” he mumbles, almost to himself. “It’s supposed to be obvious.”

You stare at him, confused and flustered and… honestly, a little distracted by how he's touching your hand. “What's… uhh, what?” Everything feels like it's too much all of a sudden, and your chest is really starting to do something weird.

He sighs. “Nevermind. Seriously.”

There's a moment of silence before he speaks again. “When we graduate,” he starts. “...Which I guess is really soon, huh.”

The way he says it makes your chest pang painfully. He’s still not looking at you. “I won’t see you anymore…” he murmurs, his voice so quiet you can barely hear him.

You grab his hand, stopping him from fiddling with your fingers, and squeeze gently. “Hey,” you say. “C’mon, it’s not like that.”

He huffs out a bitter laugh. “Isn't it, though?”

It kind of feels like you’ve been punched in the gut. This isn't like him, he's usually the one full of sunshine and optimism, reassuring you. But right now, the defeat in his voice is palpable.

The reality of the situation starts sinking in. Time’s almost up.

“Felix,” you say quietly, and he finally lifts his eyes up from his lap to look at you. His eyes are watery again.

He swallows, his voice breaking a little as he speaks. “Sorry, I’m being… I’m being unfair, I just…” He hesitates before continuing. “I don’t want to not see you.”

You frown, tears pricking your eyes now too. You don't trust your voice to speak, throat feeling tight and uncomfortable.

“And you’re just… so oblivious,” he continues, his finger tracing over your knuckles. “So stubborn, and dumb, and you’re probably the most annoying person I’ve ever met in my life and I seriously cannot believe I like—”

He cuts off suddenly, slapping a hand over his mouth.

Wait.

“Felix,” you murmur, and his eyes dart up to meet yours, a little panicked. He tries to jerk his hand away from yours, but you hold on tighter, keeping him in place.

“Felix,” you repeat, your skin buzzing from the way he’s looking at you. “You can’t just… leave me hanging like that.”

He looks away, face a brilliant crimson red. “Yeah, I can.”

You almost want to laugh. You didn’t realize he could be so shy, but you can’t focus on that now, because your heart is racing and you can’t tell if you’re going to pass out, or pass away.

“No, you can’t,” you say shakily. “When are you gonna tell me? At the commencement ceremony?”

He lets out a half-choked, almost hysterical sort of laugh, keeping his head turned away so he doesn’t have to look at you. “Yeah, something like that.”

He has to be joking. “That’s months away!”

“And?”

You shake your head, feeling dizzy. “I’m not gonna wait that long, are you insane?”

He huffs and glares at you, pouting. “Oh, well I’m sorry, would you just rather I shout it from the fucking roof tops then? Hey, everyone, I’ve been in love with my best friend since freshman year!”

What.

You blink, stunned speechless, your eyes wide.

Your mind is spinning, the air in the room suddenly too thick to breathe. The words in love keep ringing in your ears, over and over again.

“You— you what?” you manage to get out, feeling a little faint. You must not have heard him correctly. You're hallucinating, or having a stroke or… something. He can't actually mean—

Felix winces. “...Fuck.” he mutters, dropping his head into his hands.

“Oh my god,” you whisper, brain still struggling to catch up to the situation. You’re still processing that he said the word love, when the last few words register.

“Wait— freshman year?” you say incredulously. “You’ve— since—?”

He’s clearly trying to act somewhat composed but the bright red on his ears betrays him. “Um. Yeah. Shut up. Stop talking,” he says, voice muffled from behind his hands.

You think about the past few years of your life, every interaction with him, and it’s like everything suddenly clicks into place.

The way his ears turn pink whenever you compliment him. The way you could always get under his skin so easily. You think about every time he got defensive, or huffy, or pouty at something innocuous you did or said.

…The way he's never really shown interest in anyone, despite the plenty of interest shown his way. The countless people he's turned down, for seemingly no reason. When you'd questioned him about it, he'd just laughed awkwardly and said he preferred to focus on his studies.

“Oh my god,” you say again.

Felix groans and hides his face further, his ears practically on fire. “Stop. Don't,” he mutters. “It's okay. Just… pretend you never heard that, okay, it's fine—”

“No.”

It’s silent for a moment, Felix still hiding his face, and your mind still swirling with thoughts.

You kind of want to kiss him.

The realization is sudden, but not entirely unexpected. It’s not really a surprise, honestly, just another thing that feels natural. Maybe because deep down, of course somewhere along the line you've developed feelings for the person you can trust with anything, who gets you more than anyone else. Your favorite person in the world.

You’re only half in your right mind as you grab his wrists, pulling his hands off of his face.

“You ass,” you say, staring directly at him.

He looks at you with wide, panicked eyes. “I'm sorry—” he starts, but you cut him off.

“Can I kiss you?”

He chokes, eyes going even wider. He opens his mouth, then closes it, clearly caught off guard. After a moment, he manages to find his voice, though it’s very high pitched and shaky. “What?”

You take a deep breath. “Can I kiss you,” you repeat, your head feeling fuzzy, your pulse pounding in your ears.

“…What?” he asks again. His face is bright red. “Are— are you serious?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” you murmur, leaning even closer, your faces almost touching.

His breath catches, and his eyes dart between your eyes and your lips. “Please say you’re not,” he manages to say, voice breaking.

“I’m not,” you say, feeling a little crazy. Insane, maybe. You can’t really bring yourself to care. “Can I?”

He doesn't give you an answer, letting out an incredulous breath before grabbing the front of your shirt and yanking you forward as he falls back so you land on top of him.

You’re about to protest at the continued lack of a clear answer, but then he’s kissing you and you forget how to speak.

It's not the most graceful kiss, you’re both a little clumsy, but it’s sweet and it’s Felix and that’s all that really matters. You figure it out quickly, getting into a rhythm, and he lets out a shaky breath against your mouth, his hand moving to tangle in your hair. You feel like you’re dreaming, or drowning, or both.

Felix is kissing you. Felix is kissing you. Your closest friend. He’s in love with you, and he’s kissing you.

It makes your head spin. After several moments, you finally pull away, panting and dizzy. You feel a little delirious, staring down at him, both of you catching your breath.

His head falls back against the pillow, face turning impossibly red as he blinks at you like he’s in shock. You laugh a little and he huffs, but his eyes soften.

“So… you, uh— You— Are you—?”

You cut him off with another touch of your lips, effectively shutting him up. He instantly melts into it, tightens his grip in your hair, pulling you further into the kiss, and you can’t think straight, everything is just Felix.

After a while, you’re forced to break away again for air. Felix whines at the loss of contact, eyes half-lidded, his cheeks flushed. You only manage to get a few breaths in before he's pulling you down into another kiss, more urgently this time.

You let out a surprised noise, and he takes the opportunity to slip his tongue into your mouth. He seems to be determined to kiss you senseless, and it’s working.

He bites your bottom lip, making you gasp into his mouth. He mumbles something in response, his thigh sliding between your legs, and your brain short-circuits.

Okay. You shiver. Okay. You should probably… You manage to pull away for a much needed breath and Felix tries to chase after your mouth, but you press a hand to his chest to hold him in place.

He groans, looking frustrated, but flops back against the pillow obediently. He blinks at you dazedly, his own chest heaving, eyes half-lidded and dark, but his expression quickly morphs into a pout. “Why… Why…?” he complains, trying to tug you closer again.

You huff a weak laugh, shaking your head, and he gives you a wide-eyed look, all innocence and sweetness, and that's not fair that he can look like this after all of that.

“Just— one sec,” you somehow get out, your mind still completely overloaded. “We should… uh…”

He’s still trying to reach your mouth. “What,” he mutters, breathing heavily against your neck.

“Talk,” you manage to say, even as his lips make their way to your jaw. “We should… we need to… oh my god—”

You cut off, stifling a gasp as he sucks on your skin. “Felix,” you say, trying to be stern, but it comes out like a moan instead.

“Mm?” he hums against your ear, completely unapologetic. “You want to… talk?”

“Yeah.” It takes all your willpower to pull away, ignoring how he whines in protest. You sit up and take a moment to compose yourself, willing yourself to ignore the urge to just give in to him.

Felix flops back onto the bed, throwing his arm over his eyes as he sighs, his voice sounding a little raspy.

“Sorry,” he mutters, his ears red. “Sorry, god, I've thought about this so much, I just—”

Oh. “You’ve… thought about…? How much…?”

He makes a strangled noise and covers his face more thoroughly, voice muffled. “Oh my god,” he groans, “I'm going to fucking die. I… a lot.”

…Okay. Okay. Deep breaths. Okay.

“...How much is a lot?” you ask, unable to resist your curiosity. And maybe you want to tease him about it. Just a little.

He groans again. “So, so much. An embarrassing and pathetic amount.” He’s not even trying to hide his pouting. “Can you please not make me say the actual words.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing, but the way he sounds — breathless and embarrassed — it’s honestly kind of adorable. He’s always so confident in most aspects of his life that you kind of love seeing him so flustered.

“Please… don’t,” he mumbles, peeking at you. “I’m begging you…”

He's blinking up at you, the picture of innocence once again. He glances up at you through his eyelashes, all pretty and delicate and ugh, he's absolutely doing this on purpose.

“You’re distracting,” you say weakly, staring down at him. “Stop making cute faces at me.”

He does not stop making cute faces. He tries though, lowering his hands as his face drops into a scowl. “I’m not making a cute face,” he protests.

“Yeah, you are,” you say, raising an eyebrow. “You’re doing it right now. Your pouty thing.”

He sniffs. “I'm not,” he says petulantly, though there’s a hint of mirth in his eyes. “This is just my regular face. It’s not my fault if my face is cute.”

You roll your eyes. “Yeah, okay.”

He opens his mouth to respond but you cut him off with a finger, placing it over his lips. His mouth instantly snaps shut, and you can’t resist a little grin as he looks up at you with wide eyes.

You watch as he swallows, his eyes fixed on you, and, not for the first time, you’re reminded of how pretty he is. He’s always been gorgeous, in an objective sort of way, but you feel like you’re seeing him for the first time.

You move your hand away and take a deep breath, trying to gather your thoughts. You need to talk about this while you’re both still somewhat coherent, or you’ll go absolutely insane.

“So…” You’re a little pleased with how steady your voice is, considering the circumstances. “You… love me.”

Felix coughs and covers his face again. “Do you have to say it like that,” he groans, his voice muffled by his palms.

“You never… you never said anything.”

He just shrugs, still hiding his face. “I was scared to lose you,” he says with a shaky breath. “I didn’t expect you to want me back…” There's no bitterness in his tone, just disbelief.

You frown. “But you’re—” You bite your tongue. Felix was worried about you not wanting him?

You shake your head, a somewhat acrid feeling welling up inside of you. You've seen firsthand the sheer amount of attention he gets from people, from the random gifts and outright confessions and people slipping him numbers and notes everywhere he goes. There's never been a shortage of interest in him, from all sorts of people. Compared to him, you're… nothing.

“So… this whole time, you just… thought I was clueless?” You're still trying to wrap your head around it.

He sighs. “I mean, kind of,” he says, his eyes peeking through his fingers. “You’ve been completely oblivious to anyone who’s ever flirted with you.”

Including me, he doesn't say, but you're starting to put the pieces together.

You wince, your face flushing. “I’m not that oblivious,” you protest weakly. “I just… I’ve never been particularly interested in… anyone.”

Felix stares at you, one eyebrow raised.

“Like…” It's true that you've never really liked anyone very strongly in all your time at college. Some fleeting crushes here and there, but even the few people you had tried to go on dates with always felt lacking in some inexplicable way. You always felt much better as soon as you'd come home to your shared space with Felix, always feeling the most comfortable in his presence. Was that it? All this time, no one could ever compare to your best friend?

And the constant attention Felix would get… It annoyed the hell out of you. At first, you would tease him, even encourage him to give them a chance, delight in the way his face would turn bright red. But it quickly became so annoying watching him have to navigate awkward conversations, politely turn people down. Sure, a part of you was probably a bit insecure always watching him receive so much attention. At least, that's what you told yourself. But beyond that, you think you're finally starting to understand the feeling for what it is.

Jealousy.

“Oh my god.” You’re starting to realize what a mess this entire situation is. “We're both idiots.”

Felix finally drops his hands from his face, giving you a dry look. “Speak for yourself.”

"Shut up," you say absently, not even annoyed. Your head is reeling.

This is… a mess. Felix is in love with you, you’re pretty sure the feeling has been mutual for a while, and you’re both leaving this place in just a few months.

“So… you’ve never liked anyone before?” Felix asks. His tone is a bit teasing, though there's curiosity beneath.

You make a face. “Um.” Yeah, that's what you thought for the past couple years until now. How much do you reveal?

All of the puzzle pieces are clicking into place in your mind, making your head hurt even more. So much time wasted, you want to cry.

“I guess no one ever compared to you,” you say without thinking, and immediately slap your hand over your face.

“Oh.” There’s a second of silence as you both process the words.

Then, Felix starts laughing.

“Oh my god,” he mutters, struggling to contain himself, barely managing to keep his laughter under control. Your face is growing redder by the second, embarrassed and annoyed.

“Will you stop?” you whine.

“I’m sorry, I just—” he tries to get himself together, taking a deep breath before looking at you fondly. “This is the corniest fucking shit I've ever— holy shit. We're actually both stupid.”

“I told you,” you say, smacking him on the arm.

He just snickers, grabbing your wrist before you can hit him again. He pulls you so you’re half-lying on top of him again, and you can feel his shoulders shaking as if he’s trying to keep from bursting out into another fit of laughter.

You let your head fall against his chest with a huff, still annoyed even as he wraps an arm around you, his hand rubbing against your back.

“You jerk,” you mutter.

He hums, sounding amused. “You love me.”

You go rigid, and he starts to laugh again, obviously enjoying the fact that he found an easy way to fluster you.

“Shut up,” you grumble weakly, burying your face against him.

It isn't fair. He’s had time to fully realize it, years apparently. He’s had time to process everything. Meanwhile, you feel like you’ve been completely blindsided.

He finally stops laughing and you’re both quiet for a few moments. You can hear his heart drumming loud in his chest.

“Wow,” he says suddenly. “We could have avoided a lot of stress if we realized earlier.”

You let out a snort of semi-hysterical laughter. “I know,” you agree, before pausing and wincing. “Oh god, I can't believe we've been… that we've been living together…”

“Yeeeahh… That's been torture by the way,” he says conversationally, as if he's discussing the weather, and your cheeks flare up.

“...Torture?”

He squeezes your side. “Are you kidding? Have you seen yourself every day? Every time you wear my jacket, or… anything? Wearing those hoodies on movie nights—”

“I get it,” you cut him off, your face absolutely burning. “I get it, I’m—”

“Stupid?” he offers helpfully. “Oblivious? Cute?”

“...You never said anything,” you say weakly in an attempt to defend yourself.

“I wasn't going to make things awkward,” he protests. “Can you imagine if I’d actually said anything and you just… what? Said no? And then we have to keep living together like normal?”

You bite your lip, trying to suppress the guilt stirring in your stomach. You can’t even begin to imagine what it's been like from his perspective.

“...Sorry.” You shift so you can actually look at him, but he won’t meet your eyes, his gaze fixed on the ceiling as he pouts.

“You really didn't notice?” he asks, finally looking at you. “Even a little?”

“No.” You feel a frustrated sort of laugh bubbling up. “We’ve been so stupid. We could’ve… we’ve wasted so much time, years—”

“Hey, hey,” he interrupts, seeing your expression, sitting up and gently placing his hand on your cheek, and you stop abruptly. “It doesn’t matter,” he says reassuringly. “We have time, okay? Plenty of time.”

You’re still struggling with the whole situation, trying to process everything as you stare at him. “But… we’re graduating.”

He gives you a small, unsure smile. “Yeah. We are.”

"And… I don't even know where I'm going. We could be—”

“Hey.” He cuts you off, placing a finger gently on your lips, and you bite your tongue, looking down at him. “Stop worrying so much. We’ll figure it out, okay?”

You try to take a deep breath and he leans forward until his forehead is touching yours.

Your mind is still racing, your entire universe is completely tilted, and you’re not entirely sure how to deal with any of it. But Felix is close and his hand is still on your cheek and…

And you want to focus on that instead, ignore everything else for now.

“Yeah?” you say weakly, your eyes fluttering shut.

“Yeah,” he says, his voice a little more firm, and he brings his other hand up to cup your face.

“For now,” he continues, his breath warm against your skin. “Let’s just…” He lets out an unsteady laugh, his hands still gently framing your face. “Can we just…”

Your entire body feels a little shaky. You lean forward a bit, closing the distance, and he sucks in a sharp breath.

“Yeah,” he breathes before slanting his mouth against yours.

It’s not very decorous. You’re both a little desperate, a little uncoordinated, trying to make up for years of lost time.

It’s messy and you can feel that he’s still a little nervous — as are you — but he's also determined. He pulls you closer, one of his hands sliding into your hair, tugging gently in a way that makes you gasp into his mouth.

Then he suddenly pulls back after a few moments, laughing when you whine pathetically in protest.

“Shh, hang on,” he says, slightly out of breath, and you open your eyes dizzily.

“...What?” you complain.

“Sorry,” he mutters. “I… I just remembered that I…”

You watch, utterly befuddled, as he pushes against your shoulders so he can sit up. He gently lifts you off of him, answering your whine of protest with a quick kiss before his hand drifts away from your face, reaching for his phone.

You try to grab at him. “What are you doing—”

He laughs and dodges out of your reach. “Just gimme a second,” he says, turning his phone on as he settles back on the bed.

You sit there, feeling dazed and frustrated as he taps at his phone, his attention focused on the screen. After a few moments, he finally seems to finish what he’s doing, putting his phone down with a satisfied hum.

When he meets your eyes, he just looks amused at your expression. “Sorry, sorry,” he says with a grin, moving closer to you again.

“What was so important,” you pout.

“I was meant to meet with my group mates for our project tonight,” he says. “So, I told them I'm feeling sick.”

Your eyebrows shoot up. “Felix.”

He has the audacity to just smile innocently, already shifting so he can push you down against the sheets.

“What?” he says casually, hovering over you, his hands coming to rest on your waist. “I wasn't gonna be able to focus anyways.”

“Oh.” You can feel the heat rising in your cheeks again. “Is… that really okay…?”

“Don't worry,” he says, leaning down and pressing a light kiss into your neck. “I practically carry them anyway, they can live without me for one night.”

You swallow, feeling his hands slide up your arms, his touch leaving a trail of sparks along your skin. “Okay,” you agree, completely distracted now, your thoughts hazy.

“Mhm.” He sucks on a sensitive spot on your collarbone and you let out a shaky exhale. “Can we focus on something else right now?”

You nod. He moves up to kiss you and you know, with him, you'll figure out whatever comes next.

For now, that's enough.

—

a/n: me, a mech eng major.. ofc i had to make felix a fellow engineer. nerds 4 life (do not study engineering i crave death every moment)

also yes title is the coldplay song bc im actually uncreative as hell and name everything after songs. how do ppl come up with titles (T＿T) but anyway since it's one of felix's fav songs i thought it was especially fitting 🤍

tysm for reading 🫶

194 notes · View notes

treatbuckywkisses · 2 days ago

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The yearning and tension are so well written:( this made my tummy hurt in the best way😭😭 all mixed in with a very enticing side story this was so incredible it felt like I was really there in the room !!!!

Your stomach twisted at the words, the culpability of your actions threatening to eat away at it. Even after everything you said, even after running away from him and deserting him at the fair, he still only wanted to know you were safe. There were so many things you wanted to say. Nothing, however, was a good enough response in your mind. There was nothing you could say that wouldn’t leave a door open for more. No matter what you told him it would either crush his heart or give him hope. You didn’t dare do either. :( when we start with the angst it really gets me😭 the last part of this is SO good

Natasha sighed, her lips in a tight line,” Y/n, you’re joking right? You two have already been something more to each other for a long time now. Please, none of us are blind to how you two favor each other over the rest of us.” You took a second to let her words sink in. idiots in love 💕 I'm a SUCKER

But in this case, it was okay, because at least in this case you were the bad guy. You were the heartbreaker and everyone can hate you. No one has to pick sides because you made it easy for them to choose Bucky, and you were okay with that. baby:( this paragraph punched me in the gut so hard

Bucky was one of those people. When your eyes locked as you looked out into the sea of the trial audience he sent you a small smile and gave you an encouraging nod. That was all you needed to knock your closing statement out of the park. UGH WHEN IS THE LOVE COMING I'M SICK THEY ARE SO IDIOTS IN LOVE😭😭

“You’re scared of things changing, but can't you see they already did?” iconic nat always so smart

There was a slight shifting sound on the other side of the door before he spoke, “Look, these past few weeks I tried really hard to push my feelings away, but I was only getting more frustrated with myself. In pushing my feelings away, I pushed you away and I don’t want that. I miss you,” his voice broke toward the end and he paused before continuing, “I want you—no, I need you to be a part of my life even if it's just as friends. Y/n, don't think for one second I regret taking you on that date because I don’t, but I can’t keep going on acting like we don’t know each other anymore.” shutup im crying:( this is sooooo precious:(((((( my heart is HURTING for him

You were in love with Detective James Buchanan Barnes. GOOD YES FINALLY😭😭😭😭 IT'S LIKE I CAN BREATHE AGAIN

The cookies were to sweeten up your apology, which was a long thought-out one you wrote in the notes app on your phone before going to bed. It could honestly rival any speeches you had ever given in court. so relatable (I live in my notes app)

The apologies, the loneliness, the anger, the sadness, the frustration, and everything in between melted away leaving only the love that was blossoming between you two behind. I love angst with a happy ending ( this made me physically ill and if I didn't read love soon I would DIE ) this is so cute I love them: ( even though it hurt

love them love you🫶🏻

Conflict of Interest - II

Pairing: Detective!Bucky Barnes x Lawyer!Reader

Summary: After deserting Bucky at the fair, you are left dealing with the consequences. This becomes difficult as you are all assigned to a new case.

Word Count: 8.5k

Warning(s): crime show level of violence / homicide investigation details / drinking / angst / fluff / mentions of a car accident and injuries, but no major details / slight cursing / anxiety / overthinking / insecurities / lots of back and forth / misunderstandings / angst with a happy ending

a/n: It has been a while, but part 2 of this beautiful duo is finally out! ❤️ I hope the length of part 2 can make up for how long it took me to finally finish writing it. It’s angsty with a happy ending, although the happy ending doesn’t come so easily. 👀 Thank you for reading! ❤️ Likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!! 💕

➵ Prequel Drabble // ➵ Part I

You tossed and turned in your bed once more, the sunlight peeking through your blinds, disturbing your sleep. The events of last Saturday weighed heavy on you. So much so, that you hadn’t gone to work in the past two days—today would be the third. You claimed you came down with the flu, putting on the best performance you could when Natasha called you. You were never able to lie to her face, but over the phone wasn’t as hard. Eventually, however, you would have to go back.

Eventually, you would have to face him.

Bucky called you a few times that night after you deserted him at the fair. The guilt set in almost immediately and you were too ashamed to answer him. You managed to read one message before silencing all of the notifications on your phone.

Can you at least let me know you got home safely?

Keep reading

#detective bucky #the love of my life

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grabby-smitten · 1 day ago

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Pairing: Fairy!Rafayel x F!Reader

CW: Blurb, size kink if you squint, magic, fairy stuff, human reader, suggestive. Fairy as in palm-sized Rafayel. Very unserious. MDNI. Unedited, no beta. We die like Grams.

Your boyfriend was a peculiar one, to say the least. A literal pocket boyfriend. Well, he fits in your shirt pockets and doesn’t seem to mind.

Rafayel, an art fairy, was a very charming little creature. That’s how he got you all wrapped around his little fingers. He would not leave you alone until you accepted his date invitation. Well, charming and persistent.

A dramatic fella too. He would practically die if you ever stopped paying attention to him. You still remember how many times he had gracefully crumbled to the ground like an autumn leaf if you paid attention to anything that wasn’t him for far too long. He would even accidentally, according to him, scatter fairy dust over any male who spend more than a minute in your presence.

Seeing different men and creatures ran away sneezing and crying was a usual thing with Rafayel in your life. You just shook your head as he acted all innocent like they were the ones at fault.

If anyone ever told you that you would have been in a long-lasting relationship with a tiny itty-bitty fairy, you would have laughed in their faces but now? It was your reality and you wouldn’t change Rafayel for anyone else.

He too, was so proud of his human girlfriend. every time you two visited fairylands, he would flaunt you around. His big and adorable other half. He would sit in your palm and make a show of the situation and you would look at him with brows furrowed and a sigh but smiling, nonetheless. Human or supernatural world, you two were a strange sight.

Affection was something Rafayel never shied away from. He would rather you have him in between your tits instead of your pockets, according to him it was fun bouncing around there. He would kiss your cheeks nonstop while walking and then sit on your shoulders all proud of leaving you flustered.

At home, it was the same. He would kiss your eyelids every morning and flutter around your bedhead, trying to tame your wild hair. A sport he proudly practices every day without fail.

“Good morning, cutie,” Rafayel would say as he nuzzled himself into your cheek. His amethyst hair all frizzled but his smile never wavered.

“Morning, Raf,” you would lazily rasp out. “Five more minutes and I’ll go, promise.”

“Yeah, sure. You say that every morning.” But still, he let you sleep a bit longer while he prepared breakfast.

Magic. It was the wheels carrying this relationship. How did he make breakfast for a human? Magic, duh. That’s what he told you the first time you asked. Not only breakfast but… other areas as well.

The intimacy talk was awkward for you most of the time. You were all red and fidgety while he was buzzing with excitement.

You didn’t mind Rafayel trying to slip in between your thighs but at the last moment, you always ended up stopping him. He would make a whole scene of how you were preventing him from the joys in life. Then he would clutch his chest, eyes full of despair and act wounded.

He would demand you open your legs for him with a face as red as a tomato, little fists shaking and wings batting nonstop behind him. “Let me in!”

Rafayel didn’t mind the size difference and even got handsy a few times, out of desperation. Going straight for your nipple and you screaming and almost swatting him like a fly.

“Warn me first!”

“You’re the one walking naked!” Of course, he would say that.

“I was showering!” You exclaimed with a bit of exasperation in your voice.

“Exactly my point!” Rafayel replied just as exasperated as you. Clearly, he wasn’t gonna let you win.

Again, he offered to give you head and you looked at him horrified. Not that you didn’t want to but…

“You could drown in there!” You pointed down to emphasize.

“No, I wouldn’t.” He just crossed his arms, pouted and denied it shaking his head.

“Yes, you would.”

“Okay, maybe but at least I would die happy.” He said, throwing you a triumphant smirk.

“Rafayel, I’m serious!”

“Me too! Just thinking about it gets me hard!” How was he more upset than you about not being able to eat you out…

So a solution must be found before Rafayel looses his marbles. As soon as you bought up the topic of too much of a size difference that’s why you were scared, he found the solution in a blink of an eye.

“Cookies? Like Alice in wonderland?” You attentively analyzed the jar of colorful cookies Rafayel just brought home. Some were your normal size while others were almost… breadcrumbs.

“Who?”

“You don’t— never mind. So you eat it and you grow?”

“Or you eat and you get tiny like me, but still. I don’t think it really matters. I want you.” His gaze heated as his demeanor changed into something more serious, a heaviness and intensity too overwhelming for such a small being.

“So…” you hummed pensively, a bit nervous from his sudden fierce expression. “What shall we try first?”

A.N: from a meme… a meme… A MEME 😂😂 here's the old meme. okay, I hope yall enjoy it. ✨He was a fairy✨ No smut bc I wanna see how the concept goes within this fandom. Also, keep in mind fairies kidnap humans.

#omificstags #rafayel x reader #lads rafayel #tw teratophilia #size k!nk cw #fairy!rafayel #love and deepspace #lads rafayel x reader #lnds rafayel #l&ds rafayel

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luckykiwiii101 · 2 days ago

Text

“RING RING! FAILURE’S CALLING…” “SORRY, YOU HAVE THE WRONG NUMBER.”

| | THE 411 ON HOW TO NEVER FAIL AGAIN | |

ﾟ failure is an identity and a choice ࿐

✰ TABLE OF CONTENTS ✰

✰ FAILURE IS A SKIN YOU CHOOSE TO WEAR ✰

✰ WHY SOME OF YOU KEEP “FAILING” ON REPEAT ✰

✰ THE IMPORTANCE OF SELF CONCEPT ✰

Hey Upper East Siders. We hear failure’s calling, you keep picking up the phone, and you can’t seem to hang up. And since failure’s unheard of on the upper east side, here’s everything you need to know about why you’re a failure, and how to stop being one.

✰ FAILURE IS A SKIN YOU CHOOSE TO WEAR ✰

Want to know what the fashionistas of the upper east side are wearing? Well it’s certainly not what you’re wearing. And as we all know, you need a good sense of style to choose what to wear, and failure is the one thing that’ll never be in fashion. Especially not on the upper east side. Don’t mind me judging your outfit…I think I see your horns growing. First of all, start off by understanding that nothing is meant to be difficult for you. You’ve just made it difficult for yourself.

Luckily for you, outfits aren’t permanent. And you can change them quicker than S switches boyfriends. And failure, is merely a hideous outfit that you’re choosing to wear. And in the world of fashion, your outfit is who you are. Before I help you change your style, let’s find out why you’re such a failure. Can’t solve the problem without knowing the root of the cause first, right?

✰ WHY SOME OF YOU KEEP “FAILING” ON REPEAT ✰

Somehow, every time you tell yourself that you’re going to persist and manifest whatever it was that you wanted, you fail. But when you want a cup of coffee, suddenly you’re god. But when it comes to your dream life, you’re suddenly a pathetic, powerless human being.

Ever wonder why that is?

Guess. Ding ding ding. It’s because your standards are low. Painfully low. Don’t look so confused. Let me show you. “I want my dream life so I persisted and I manifested a dream about my desired life!! ” is that what you call…success? Just when I thought you couldn’t stoop lower! Here’s another pathetic example. “I persisted to manifest my desired face and my eyelashes grew!!”

Don’t get me wrong upper east siders, but you settle for the lowest of the low. And that’s why you never get what you want. You’ve conditioned “success” with small things. You associate success with only a fraction of the thing you wanted. And never the full thing. You’ve adopted the assumption that you can’t manifest “big” things. (There’s no such thing as big and small but you know what I mean). It’s simply not natural to you.

Another big reason you keep failing is because you’re used to failure, which has led to a lack of trust/faith in yourself. It’s almost second nature to you. A wise woman called the wizard liz once said, “how can you trust yourself, if you keep promising yourself things and you don’t follow through?”

Truer words have never been spoken. It’s almost as if you know you’re going to end up failing. You’ve promised yourself your dream life several times, and you’ve clearly failed every time, and now you’ve got little to no trust in yourself. You know what’s going to happen, again. And that cycle is never going to end. You’ve almost broken every link in the chain. Almost. You can’t conceive of a world where you have everything you want. You view failure as an option. You don’t identify with your real creator/god self who cannot fail. And that’s exactly the problem.

I’ve got a friend called self concept and she’s either the root of the problem, or the solver of it. *Ring ring*!! I think she’s calling…

✰ THE IMPORTANCE OF SELF CONCEPT ✰

As we all famously know, your self concept is your assumptions about yourself and the world around you. It is literally everything. Every little assumption you have about yourself. It’s evident in everything and I mean everything that you do or say. The way you treat others, the way you treat yourself, the way you experience the world and most importantly, your FEELINGS. Your feelings come from SELF. Feeling scared? That’s who you’re identifying with. The outer self is the only one who can feel such negative feelings about the law of assumption, never the inner/god self who knows their full power.

And if it wasn’t obvious by now, your self concept is buried six feet underground, along with everything you’ve ever wanted. I hope you didn’t get a recent manicure…I hear knocking on the casket you’ve buried her in.

If I wasn’t clear enough before, let’s point out what your self concept looks like. Your standards are low and you’re used to failure. Yikes!

Now that you know why you keep failing, you can finally put it to an end. Hang up with failure, success is calling. It’s time to change your self concept to someone who always fails, to someone who only succeeds.

You know exactly what i’m going to say…and it’s change your assumptions!!! Your self concept IS your assumptions. Change self = change self concept. Same thing. And as you already know, to manifest anything, you change self (changing your awareness to being the person who has whatever it is that you “desire”).

From now on, failure is unheard of for you, success is your new best friend. I hope you weren’t expecting a step by step guide. For something so simple. All you need is your mind. Stop feeling like a failure. Start feeling successful. Knowing that you’re successful no matter what.

Still feeling lost? Surprisingly, i’ll let you off this time, but after this, no more excuses. -> CLICK ME for the perfect self concept!

Success is calling and your hand is inches away from the phone. You know what to do. XOXO

- gossip girl

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promptedwordsmith · 2 days ago

Note

Hiyaaa

I have a request , if that’s fine with you?

So Reader is MC’s long lost twin sister, they reunited a bit after and have been close ever since.

Reader is much different to MC , she likes the opposite things that mc likes and has different ticks and such.

She has a crush on (any of the LADS boys) and slowly watches as he falls in love with MC. She doesn’t say anything as she knows MC likes him too.

She gets invited out by sylus and slowly hangs out with him as she isn’t a hunter but does work in the N109 Zone. They soon get close and get into some sort of relationship , she then notices he keeps buying stuff that MC would like for her.

She brushes over it but he keeps doing stuff that the Mc would like usually, the food she’d like, the clothes she’d like.

She gets sick of being in her sisters shadow and confronts him and leaves.

OK, so I literally watched this ask come into the inbox and it was like a lightbulb switched on and I NEEDED to do this I love writing angst, this is also my longest fic yet - 5.2k! Wow

The sun hung low in the sky, casting long shadows over the quiet city streets. The air was cool for a spring evening, a gentle breeze tugging at the edges of your jacket. You adjusted the strap of your bag, sighing as you looked down at the study materials clutched in your hand. The exam was tomorrow, but the words in your textbooks felt like they were swimming in a fog. Your mind kept drifting, not to the dense chapters of history or theory, but to her—your twin sister.

It had been years since that night, the night that shattered everything. You could still remember it as if it was yesterday—your parents' sudden, tragic death, the screaming sirens, and the confusion. And then, the moment you looked for her—searched frantically in the smoke-filled wreckage—only to find that she was gone, just... gone. You were left alone, confused, scared, and eventually, separated from the one person who had always understood you. Your twin.

The accident had changed her. The doctors said she was lost, somewhere deep inside herself, locked away in a mind that didn’t remember you anymore. But what hurt even more was that you had no one to ask. No one to explain what had happened, or why you had been torn apart. Your adoptive parents had been kind, if a bit too overbearing at times. They tried to fill the void, but they couldn’t. No one could.

You had learned to adapt, to bury the ache in your chest, and to focus on your studies, your goals. But even now, on the eve of the exam, you couldn’t stop the thoughts of her. You couldn’t forget.

Turning a corner, you stopped in your tracks.

There, standing under the flickering streetlamp at the end of the block, was a woman. She was looking down at a piece of paper in her hands, dressed in a long, dark coat, her hair flowing gently in the breeze. Something about her was oddly familiar, like a half-remembered dream, pulling at the edges of your consciousness.

For a moment, you stood frozen, your heart hammering in your chest. It was as though the universe had conspired to throw you back into the past. Your breath caught in your throat, and you took a tentative step forward, hesitating with every step.

She looked up, and your gazes locked.

The world around you seemed to fall away, the bustling city noises blurring into a distant hum. The world became small—too small, as if everything else had faded and there was only her. The same eyes, the same face... The face you had longed to see for so many years, and yet, the years had passed, and there was something different about her now.

The wind picked up, swirling the air between you as you took one more step forward. She looked... older, wiser, more distant. But it was her. It had to be her.

She didn’t say anything at first. Neither did you. You just stood there, staring at one another, time stretching thin between you.

“...Are you real?” you whispered, your voice thick with emotion, your chest tight. The question escaped your lips before you could stop it.

She blinked, her expression softening, and then she took a step toward you, as though testing the waters, unsure if the reunion was truly happening or if she was simply dreaming.

“You... don’t remember me?” Her voice cracked slightly, almost as if she, too, had been carrying this pain for all these years, but had somehow forgotten how to reach out. Her words hit you like a wave, and you couldn’t breathe.

You opened your mouth, the years of unspoken words flooding your mind. “I’ve been looking for you,” you whispered, feeling the tears well up in your eyes. “I thought you were lost.”

Her hand slowly reached out, trembling. She seemed to hesitate for a moment before placing it gently against your arm. “I—I’ve been lost,” she admitted softly, her gaze lowering for a brief moment. “But... I think I’ve found something again.”

And in that moment, standing there with your twin sister after so many years, something broke open inside you. All the hurt, the loneliness, the anger... it all began to pour out, mixing with the relief and joy that surged in your chest.

You didn’t need words for a while. You just stood there, side by side, as the cool breeze tangled in your hair, the world beginning to shift back into place as though the years had never happened.

You had found her again. And she had found you.

From that moment on, you were always together.

The years apart had created a distance, not just physically, but emotionally, and it was clear you had to relearn everything about each other. Every day was a new discovery—a moment where you would uncover something that had once been second nature between you. It was like rewinding time, only to realize how much had changed and how much still remained. It wasn’t easy at first. Trust was something you both had to rebuild, piece by piece, like constructing a puzzle you’d once finished but now had to start anew. But as the days passed, that bond, that unspoken connection, began to stitch itself back together in ways you never expected.

You learned so much—how different you had become over the years. You realized you had vastly different food tastes—she loved spicy, you preferred sweeter dishes. She always gravitated toward bold, vibrant colors, while you found comfort in softer, more muted tones. Even your tastes in men were different, and that was a shock at first. You would laugh at the things you found so amusingly out of sync—how she was drawn to a certain type of guy, while you found yourself leaning toward someone else entirely. And yet, every difference felt like another piece of the puzzle, making you realize how beautifully unique you both were.

You adored the differences. They were like little windows into the person you had missed all these years. Every new fact felt like an adventure, and the more there was to discover, the better. There was something so exciting about learning her quirks, her preferences, the subtle shifts in her personality you hadn't seen in years. And whenever you discovered something that you shared—whether it was a similar reaction to a movie or the same favorite childhood memory—it felt like a victory. It wasn’t just the similarities that made it fun, it was the process of rediscovery. And those small shared moments, they made you feel closer, like you were stitching the fabric of your connection tighter with each day.

As you spent more time together, you naturally introduced each other to your friends, and you couldn’t help but notice something that piqued your curiosity. Your sister, with her charm and warmth, had a lot of male friends—attractive male friends. You could see it the moment they walked in the room—the way they gravitated toward her, how they’d exchange casual, easy banter as though they had known each other forever. It was a little surprising at first, but not entirely unexpected. She had always been the social one, effortlessly making connections wherever she went.

But there was one guy who stood out among the rest.

Caleb.

He was different. There was something about the way he carried himself—confident, but not overly so. He had this easy-going charm, with a touch of mystery that made him hard to read. You noticed the way he looked at your sister—like she was something worth admiring, something worth protecting. But it was also the way he looked at you. Subtle glances, the kind that made your heart race for a moment longer than it should. You couldn’t shake the feeling that there was more to Caleb than he let on.

You couldn’t deny the attraction, the pull that seemed to draw you toward him. It was more than just physical. There was something in his presence that made the air feel a little warmer, a little more electric.

And it wasn’t lost on you that Caleb was always there. Always around, always at the edge of the conversation, casually participating, but never intruding. He made you feel like you had to pay a little more attention, like you needed to be aware of everything happening in the room, even when it was just your sister and her friends hanging out.

The more you spent time with him, the more you realized that what you felt for Caleb wasn’t just admiration—it was something stronger. Something unspoken, something that pulled at the edges of your consciousness, making it impossible to ignore. You were drawn to him, and yet you couldn’t tell if it was just your curiosity or something more.

What made it even more complicated was your sister. She was so open, so comfortable with him. She trusted him in ways that made you question just how much you really knew about him. Could you both be seeing the same man in such different lights? Or was something else at play here—something you weren’t sure you were ready to face?

And so, as you navigated this new chapter of your life—one where your sister was back by your side and Caleb was somehow intertwined with everything—it was impossible to ignore the sense that things were about to get a lot more complicated.

But maybe, just maybe, that was the fun part.

You had always been so happy for her. When you saw the way your sister looked at Zayne, the way she couldn’t stop talking about him or looking for him, it was clear that she was head over heels. You had never seen her so alive, so full of excitement. You were thrilled for her, even if, deep down, you couldn’t help but wonder what it would be like to have someone like that in your own life.

And yet, it all seemed to shift so suddenly.

You didn’t expect to walk into your bedroom that evening and find Caleb leaning over her, pressing a gentle kiss to her lips. You stopped at the doorway, your heart sinking in your chest. The moment felt like it stretched for an eternity, the warmth of the room suddenly feeling suffocating. Caleb’s lips were so close to hers, so tender, and in that instant, everything you thought you understood about your connection with him seemed to slip away.

You had spent weeks getting to know him, laughing with him, sharing subtle glances, those moments that made your heart race. You thought you were beginning to get somewhere with him, slowly, cautiously building something, but now it seemed like he had already found what he wanted.

Your sister.

The realization hit harder than you expected. You hadn’t spent enough time with him, hadn’t made him see you in the same way she had. Maybe you had waited too long, or maybe Caleb had simply been drawn to the one person who had always captivated him—your sister. The thought was like a weight on your chest, suffocating you, but you couldn’t let it show. Not now.

You cleared your throat, the awkwardness of the moment making your voice sound more strained than you intended. "Oh, sorry," you muttered, trying to sound casual, like walking in on them didn’t sting at all. "I didn’t mean to interrupt."

Caleb pulled away quickly, looking genuinely embarrassed, while your sister turned to you, her cheeks flushed with the same warmth that had been on Caleb’s lips. You could see the joy in her eyes, that sparkle that was so unmistakable. She was happy. That much was clear. And you were happy for her too... right?

You forced a smile, trying to ignore the way your heart was shattering into pieces. "No big deal," you added quickly, hoping your voice didn’t betray the devastation you felt inside. "I didn’t know you two were, um... together now."

Your sister giggled, her face lighting up with excitement. "Yeah, it kind of just happened," she said, her words soft and dreamy. "I didn’t even know I saw him that way before, but now... I can’t stop thinking about him. Caleb’s all I can think about."

You swallowed hard, nodding even though your chest felt tight. Caleb's all she can think about. The words echoed in your mind, each one a reminder of how you had misread everything. You had spent so much time hoping that maybe, just maybe, Caleb was beginning to see you, and yet here he was, kissing your sister, the one person who had always been in the center of everything you cared about.

"That’s... that’s great," you forced out, your smile faltering just for a second before you caught yourself. You couldn’t let her see. Not now. Not when she was so happy.

That night, as you both sat together on your bed, your sister gushed about Caleb to you—how she had never really seen him in that light before, but now that she had, he was all she could think about. She talked about how incredible he was, how easy he was to talk to, how he made her feel seen. It was clear that Caleb had become her world in a way you hadn’t expected. The excitement in her voice, the warmth in her words—it was everything you had wished for her, and yet, the sting of jealousy cut deeper than anything you had ever felt before.

But you didn’t let it show. You buried those feelings deep, far down where they wouldn’t be seen. She didn’t need to know that the happiness she was expressing had left you in a state of quiet devastation. You couldn’t make her feel guilty for being happy. You loved her too much for that.

So, you sat there, nodding, smiling, laughing along with her excitement, all while hiding the fact that a part of you was crumbling on the inside. You pushed the hurt away, because you wanted her to feel supported, to feel that you were there for her, no matter what. And if that meant hiding your feelings from her—hiding how much it hurt that Caleb, the man you thought might be yours, was now hers—then you would do it.

After all, she was your sister. And she deserved this happiness. Even if it meant you had to sacrifice your own.

In the weeks that followed, you worked hard to move past your feelings for Caleb. It wasn’t easy—those emotions had been strong, intense, and they hadn’t just vanished overnight. But you did your best, gradually pulling away from him, creating more distance, more space between the two of you. Every time you saw him with your sister, you pushed back the ache, burying it deeper, focusing on the things that mattered.

And Caleb? He didn’t seem to notice. At first, you weren’t sure if that was a blessing or a curse. On one hand, it was a relief. You didn’t have to explain yourself, didn’t have to confront those feelings head-on. On the other hand, it left you feeling... invisible. Was he so wrapped up in your sister that he couldn’t even tell that something had changed?

It was both painful and freeing.

But then, just when you thought you might stay in that stagnant space forever, someone new caught your eye—Sylus.

He was different. Tall, broad, and absolutely HOT. From the moment he joined the group, you couldn’t help but notice him. He had this presence, an undeniable aura that commanded attention without even trying. His voice—deep, rich, and full of a kind of quiet authority—carried across the room and made you pause every time he spoke. There was something magnetic about him, something that drew you in. And unlike the others, Sylus seemed more... open to spending time with you one-on-one.

You couldn’t explain it, but whenever he was around, you found yourself wanting to be near him more than anyone else. The way he spoke to you, the way he listened—it felt different. His attention felt genuine, unlike the usual banter you shared with the others, and before you knew it, you were looking forward to every chance to spend time with him.

In those moments together, you found yourself forgetting about Caleb, especially when Sylus’s attention became focused entirely on you. It wasn’t just that he listened to you, but that he actually seemed interested in what you had to say. And his compliments? They were always on point—never too much, never too little. It was just the right amount of praise to make you feel noticed, but never over the top.

The more time you spent with Sylus, the more you realized that your feelings for Caleb were truly fading, being replaced with something new. And this time, it was something stronger. You weren’t the type of person to rapidly shift who you liked, but there was something about Sylus that you couldn’t deny.

There was an intoxicating mix of calm and excitement in his presence—his voice, the way he held himself, the way he challenged you with his wit. When he spoke, it was like everything else fell away, and all that mattered was the conversation between the two of you. It was thrilling. Sylus had this ability to calm you with a single glance, yet rile you up with every word he said. The duality of it all was intoxicating, and you found yourself more drawn to him with each passing day.

And it didn’t go unnoticed. Sylus seemed to enjoy your company as much as you enjoyed his. You could tell by the way he teased you, the sly smile that would tug at the corner of his lips whenever you got a witty retort in. He would praise you, telling you that you were one of the few people who truly kept him entertained. It felt different from how he interacted with the others—more personal, more real.

It was almost like you were the one person he didn’t have to try too hard with, the one person who could match his sharpness, his intelligence, and his sense of humor. Every time you spent time with him, you felt like you were getting closer, like a bond was forming that you couldn’t ignore.

And you didn’t want to ignore it. You didn’t want to bury it.

The problem was, you weren’t sure if Sylus felt the same way you did. But the moments you shared together, the laughter, the conversations, the way he looked at you—those small, intimate exchanges made you feel like you were more than just another face in the crowd.

As time went on, you began to wonder... Could there be something real between you and Sylus? Something beyond the friendly banter and the chemistry that had begun to grow between you two? You weren’t sure, but the more you thought about it, the more you wanted to find out.

For the first time in weeks, it felt like you were starting to feel again. And this time, it wasn’t with Caleb—it was with Sylus.

It all changed that day.

You had thrown out another one of your usual witty retorts, something playful but sharp, and the way Sylus laughed made your heart skip a beat. It wasn’t just any laugh—this was different. He laughed harder than you’d ever heard him laugh at anything you’d said before, as if your words had truly caught him off guard. It was genuine, deep, and there was something about it that made you feel... alive.

But it wasn’t just the laugh that had you on edge. It was the look that followed it—the way his gaze lingered on you afterward. It was almost imperceptible at first, but the intensity of it hit you in an instant. His eyes darkened just a little, like the playful laughter had shifted into something else entirely. Something... charged. Smoldering.

You had felt a twinge of attraction before, but this was different. This wasn’t the kind of attraction you could brush off with a casual smile or a quick change of subject. This was real. Undeniable. The kind that made your pulse quicken and your breath catch.

You couldn’t help but feel a rush of excitement as you realized what it was. It wasn’t the easy chemistry you shared during your banter—it was something deeper. Something dangerous in the best way. Something that left you craving more.

And that moment marked the beginning of a whirlwind.

The next few days felt like a dream. Everything moved fast, but it was all so right. Sylus and you, the two of you together—it was like the world fell into place. You spent hours talking, laughing, and simply being together. Every time he smiled, every time his gaze met yours, you felt the undeniable pull between you. And he wanted you. You could see it in the way he looked at you, the way he touched you, the way he leaned in just a little closer than necessary. There was no mistaking it. This wasn’t a fling. It was real.

For five weeks, it was bliss. You felt happy in ways you hadn’t felt in a long time. With Sylus, you didn’t feel the weight of anything—no doubts, no second-guessing. It was pure, it was exhilarating, and it felt like everything was falling into place.

Your sister, ever the cheerleader, was beyond excited for you. She practically glowed with happiness whenever she talked about your relationship, always praising how great Sylus was for you, how perfect you seemed together. She was genuinely happy for you, and that made everything even better. You had always dreamed of being there for each other, no matter what, and now, here she was—celebrating your happiness right alongside you.

Even Caleb, for all the tension and unspoken feelings you had shared with him, came to congratulate you. It was strange, but in a way, it felt like a weight lifting off your shoulders. He wasn’t resentful. In fact, he seemed to mean it, offering you a smile and a casual, "You two seem good together."

And for the first time in ages, you felt like everything was aligning in the way it was supposed to.

You were happy. Your sister was happy. Caleb was supportive. And you had Sylus—your Sylus. The man who had brought something back into your life you hadn’t even realized you were missing: passion.

It felt like the perfect little bubble—one where everything was harmonious, where there were no complications, no unresolved tensions.

But as you basked in that bliss, a small part of you couldn’t help but wonder—could it really stay like this? Would it always be this easy? The kind of happiness you were feeling, the intensity of your connection with Sylus—it was almost too good to be true.

And yet, you pushed those thoughts aside. For now, everything was perfect.

At first, you couldn’t quite put your finger on it. It was small things, subtle things that didn’t make sense at first—until they did.

Sylus’s behavior began to shift. At first, it was easy to ignore. You were happy. He was happy. It was bliss. But then, the little things started to slip through the cracks.

He would do things—small gestures—that felt like they were meant for someone else. Like when he gave you a plushie that looked oddly similar to one your sister would love. Or the little trinkets he’d bring you, clearly in your sister’s favorite color, her favorite pattern. You’d laugh it off at first, joking about how he must’ve gotten confused, but it kept happening. And it wasn’t just the gifts—it was the way he started to interact with you. Sometimes, it felt like he expected you to react the same way your sister would. When he teased you, the way he smiled at your response, the way he looked at you as if he were waiting for you to be your sister.

At first, you dismissed it. Maybe it was just a quirk of his. Maybe he didn’t even realize what he was doing. You told yourself that he must just be a little... forgetful, or perhaps overly fond of your sister's personality. After all, they were close friends before you came into the picture.

But soon, it became too obvious to ignore.

You caught him. More than once. His gaze would linger on your sister when he thought no one was watching. The longing, the desire—it was palpable in the way his eyes followed her movements, the way his expression softened whenever she spoke. And you saw it. You saw it all.

You thought it was just you. That maybe you were reading too much into things, that maybe you were imagining the way his attention seemed to always drift toward her. But then you started noticing how often his attention seemed to shift, how you could feel him becoming distant in the moments when your sister was around. When the two of them would talk, you could sense it—something you couldn’t ignore. He wasn’t just in the moment with you anymore. It was as if he was waiting for something, waiting for her, always comparing you to her.

That’s when it hit you. The truth that you’d been avoiding for so long.

You weren’t really the one he wanted.

You were a stand-in. A placeholder. A substitute for your sister. The realization was like a punch to your gut, a sharp, jagged truth that twisted inside you. Sylus had been drawn to you because you reminded him of her, because you were the closest thing he could get to her.

It hurt more than you ever expected.

You thought you were special. You thought there was something between you two that wasn’t just about her, but now you realized that you had only been the next best thing. A consolation prize for the woman he truly wanted.

You tried to push the thought aside. You tried to tell yourself that it wasn’t true. That you were more than just a stand-in, that Sylus could see you for who you were—not for who you resembled. After all, you were funny, witty, confident—you had your own charm, your own uniqueness. You weren't your sister. You were you. And surely, that should have been enough.

But still, you couldn’t ignore the truth that simmered beneath the surface. Sylus seemed to be looking at your sister with an intensity that he never directed at you, no matter how many times you tried to make him see you as more than just a shadow of her.

You told yourself that if you just kept being you—if you kept showing him that you were interesting, funny, and as unique as you truly were—then maybe, just maybe, he’d see you. Maybe he’d see that you were more than just a stand-in. That you deserved more than to be a shadow in your sister’s light.

But the doubt lingered, gnawing at you. Every time he smiled at you with that distant look in his eyes, every time he gave you something that seemed like a gift meant for her, you couldn’t help but feel like you were chasing something you couldn’t quite reach.

And you hated that. You hated how much it hurt to realize that the person you were falling for might never really be falling for you.

It was that night—the night everything snapped.

He had come home with a beautiful pair of earrings, the kind that glittered in the light and caught your eye the moment he handed them to you. You were taken aback by their beauty, thinking, maybe this is the turning point. Maybe he was finally seeing you, you for who you were, not a reflection of your sister.

But then he spoke.

“You’ve been eyeing these for a while now, haven’t you? I thought I’d surprise you with them. You said you wanted to start saving for a pair like these.”

Your stomach sank. That wasn’t you. You hadn’t ever seen these earrings before, and more than that—they weren’t even your style. They were elegant, delicate, beautiful, but they looked like something your sister would wear. Something she would pick.

Your hands trembled as you stared at the earrings in disbelief. He had gotten them for her. They weren’t for you.

It was as though the fog had lifted in that moment, and the truth came crashing down. Your heart, which had been trying so hard to hold on to the illusion that Sylus saw you for who you were, shattered in an instant. You couldn’t breathe. You couldn’t think.

“Wait… you thought I wanted these?” You forced the words out, your voice shaky. “These aren’t mine. They’re hers. They’re for her.”

The shock on his face, the confusion that washed over him, made your chest tighten even more. He tried to explain, tried to cut in with some excuse, but you didn’t want to hear it anymore. You had been so patient, so willing to let him see you, to let him find what was special about you.

But this? This was the final straw.

“No,” you cut him off, the anger and pain bubbling over. “I’ve been ignoring it for so long, hoping you’d finally see that I’m not her. I’m me, but you never did. You’ve been treating me like I’m a substitute for her. A stand-in for someone who isn’t even here.”

He opened his mouth to defend himself, but you didn’t want to hear it.

“Stop.” Your voice was harsh now, sharper than you ever thought it could be. “I’m done with the excuses. You’ve made it so clear that I’m just the next best thing. You’ve made it so clear that no matter what I do, I’ll never be enough. I’m not her.”

Every word you spoke felt like a knife twisting deeper, but it didn’t matter anymore. You couldn’t keep pretending. You couldn’t keep hoping he would finally wake up and realize you were more than just a stand-in.

Sylus tried to step forward, to apologize, but you weren’t having it.

“Don’t,” you snapped, your heart pounding, your emotions raw. “Don’t even try. This is over. We’re over.”

You turned away, your vision blurring as your emotions surged. You grabbed the things he’d given you—the gifts, the memories, the little trinkets he had left scattered around your apartment. Each one felt like a betrayal now, a reminder that you were never really his first choice. You packed them hastily into a bag, shoving them into his arms before he could say another word.

“I’m done. Get out,” you forced out, each word a struggle to maintain composure. You shoved the bag into his chest, feeling the finality of it. This was it.

You didn’t want to hear anything else. You didn’t want to see him.

Sylus stood there for a moment, the shock still etched on his face. But you didn’t care anymore. Your heart was too broken to care.

With one final glance, he turned and walked out, leaving you standing there, the door slamming behind him with a deafening finality.

And in that moment, you knew. It was over.

The door clicked shut, and the silence that followed was suffocating.

#Sylus #Sylus x mc #Sylus x reader #Sylus x you #Sylus love and deepspace #sylus lads #lads sylus #lads x you #lads x reader

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wardenparker · 2 days ago

Text

The Unbearable Weight of Perfection, ch 1

Javi Gutierrez x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

When an accident of fate throws Javi G into the path of his soulmate, his instinct is to dive in head first. Adjusting to life as the fated partner of someone you barely know is going to be harder than either of you suspect, but anything worth having is worth working for. Isn't it?

(This story is heavily inspired by the lovely house museums that I work in every day and the fantastic few months that HBO was using our houses to film a TV show in fall! I spent each day on that set in wonder and I can't wait to share the experience with all of you through this story.)

Rating: M for Mature but this blog is always 18+ Word Count: 7.6k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this story include: Cursing, alcohol, food, references to abusive family members -- i.e. Lucas.* Fluff, sweetness, flirting, crushes, reader's meddling bestie. Summary: Waking up beside your soulmate the morning after your wedding, you reflect on the meetings that brought you here. Notes: Welcome to a new story, friends! We're using date stamps as we tell this story, as scenes may appear out of chronological order. Enjoy!

Saturday, April 6, 2024

Normally waking up is hard for Javi. Too used to having his own schedule, late nights and lazy mornings. Things have changed over the past few years, the loss of his family fortune and business. Not that he minded no longer being the face of an arms dealer family, even if he wasn’t the one selling the weapons. That was his now incarcerated cousin, Lucas’s doing.

No, now waking up meant an alarm instead of the fragrant smell coffee being brought by a servant, he had to get up and make it himself if he wants.

This morning, this morning his eyes are open before the sun even thinks about peeking over the horizon. The early morning lighting up gradually as he watches your face, so peaceful in sleep. His soulmate. His wife.

Sunrise isn't normally your wakeup call. The mornings are always an early start for you because you like to get as much out of your day as you possibly can. It's been so many years of it now that you even wake up early on the weekends – but not today.

A rare morning of sleeping in means that the bright sun streaming through the windows penetrates your sleep to warm your dreams and drift you closer to reality. Although really, the thing that wakes you is the shifting of the mattress. The last time you shared a bed with anyone before last night was...a year ago? More?

But when you open your eyes, knowing it's your soulmate next to you is so exhilarating.

“Good morning.” Javi’s smile is bright, radiant like the sun as he reaches out and caresses your cheek. “How did you sleep? I think I only slept for two hours but it was the best two hours of my life.”

"Good morning." Like a magnet, you slide towards him on the mattress to tuck yourself into his side. "It's a whole new day. What did you want to do with it?" Neither of you have to work, so it's just...going to be beautiful all on its own.

“I should treat you today, no?” He asks with a grin. “It is technically our honeymoon?” The ring on your finger is just barely ten hours old, the excitement of that fact still humming through his system and coming off as nervous energy.

"We've got a whole weekend to do whatever we want." Honeymoon. It's your honeymoon. The last twenty-four hours have been a complete whirlwind. This time yesterday you were already at work. "I feel silly asking but...what do you like to do for fun?"

“Watching movies.” Javi admits shamelessly, although he no longer has the movie theatre he once did. “What is your favorite movie?”

"Oh gosh, that's such a hard question." Shamelessly happy that you can do so, you lay a kiss on his shoulder and gaze up at him.

Your soulmate is so fucking handsome. How did you get so lucky?

"Maybe..." You laugh at how ridiculously hard it is to choose. "I think I have more like a top three. And they rotate depending on what kind of mood I'm in. But one of the top three is always The Princess Bride."

“That is a good one.” He grins, happy that you seem to light up and have a hard time choosing. “I always liked Wesley.” He admits shamelessly and winks at you. “As you wish.”

"Hush." Even though you nudge him a little, your warm cheeks have nothing to do with the morning sun. It's all mixed in with the dreamy expression on your face as you talk with him. Your husband. Your soulmate. "What's your favourite movie?"

“You must promise not to laugh.” He tells you seriously, although there is humor twinkling in the depths of his dark eyes as he gazes into your hauntingly beautiful ones. “Paddington 2.” He admits, his tone flat and honest.

“Why would I laugh? That’s such a sweet movie!” Daring to reach up to brush a curl out of his eyes, you end up smiling all over again. “I…actually really love watching kids’ movies. They’re great for comfort and cheering me up when I don’t feel too good.”

“They teach us lessons we could all use.” He agrees, capturing your hand and kissing the back of it. “We can watch them together. Snuggled up.”

“That sounds perfect.” Practically everything he suggests sounds perfect, and it’s not just the gorgeous purr of his accent. “It can be a sweet way of unwinding at night.”

“You would not mind?” He asks, brows raised and a hopefully look on his face. “I wish I had my old movie theatre, but we can turn the second bedroom into a viewing room?”

"You..." Confusion makes your eyebrows draw in. "Used to have your own movie theater?"

He tilts his head. “Of course.” He nods. “I will have to build one again. It will not be as big as the one in Spain, but the house will be much smaller too.” He sighs softly, feeling a little bit like a failure for not being able to give you the things he once had. Before he ever knew you carried his marks. “But maybe one day, no?”

"If it will make you happy, then we will absolutely do that." There are plenty of things that you don't know about each other yet, but you have every confidence that you'll be able to settle into things together well. You're soulmates, after all. You're meant to be together. "I just...I've never known anyone who had their own movie theater before. That sounds so fancy."

“It was a large house.” He admits, frowning slightly. He loved the house, hated the bad memories of some of the things that happened there. Although it was never all bad. “You know, Nic Cage came to my birthday party there?” He asks. “It’s how we met.”

"Is it really?" He had told you that they were friends -- hell, the Cages had come to your wedding last night -- but it was still something that you were wrapping your head around.

“Yes.” He chuckles. “I paid him one million dollars to come to my birthday, and somehow, we became friends.”

Your eyes widen, catching on a breath of disbelief. "So that's how you get a movie star to come to your birthday? Color me impressed."

He hums. “Back then, yes.” He admits, leaning in and kissing your shoulder gently. “Now, they are starting to want to come on their own. Not because I pay them.” He doesn’t have the money to do that anymore.

"You're an amazing writer. I'm sure you're just at the start of something really grand." The two movies he has had made so far have both been fantastic. You went home and watched them back-to-back after the first time he told you he was a screenwriter. "I consider myself very lucky that I'll get to be beside you during all of it."

“Really?” His eyes widen, as if he had never really considered that you would be happy to have him as your soulmate. “You want to be beside me?”

It almost makes you laugh, but the wonder on his face is so genuinely sweet that it sort of comes out as a sound of disbelief. "Of course," you promise him, and take his hand to hold both his and your left hands in his view. The hands bearing your brand new wedding rings. "That's what this means."

“Married.” The word is whispered, almost reverently, as if he is still in disbelief that it was ever possible. For him, it had started to look that way. He had loved Gabriella and had been determined to be a good partner no matter if they had not shared marks, but she had left him. He had floundered slightly, bemoaning love and at the encouragement of Nic to start working on his next screen play, he had stumbled upon the soulmate he had always yearned for.

******

Tuesday, February 14, 2023 Valentine's Day

The slowest pay of the week for the museum seems punctuated with particularly melancholy moments today. There was a private tour this morning with a proposal, and the squealing bride-and-groom-to-be had been allowed to take photos together on the grand staircase before regular visitors began arriving for the day. Their family and friends had been hiding in the house, waiting for the moment, all ready to burst out and shout with joy after the question was asked and answered. It had left you with a migraine.

Another lover had popped their question to her beloved out in the gardens while you were trying to get some fresh air on your short morning break. You'd fled back to the breakroom and hung your head in your hands for the rest of your fifteen minutes of quiet.

Now, in the middle of the afternoon, there are so many couples on dates strolling through the halls of Hazelwood House that it felt like an intentional taunt. Being fresh off a breakup at Valentine's Day is no one's idea of a good time. So you just pace your area, walking through the three rooms of the house museum that are under your care for this hour, and hope that the floor just opens up to swallow you whole.

Which is how you accidentally walked straight into a guest.

"Oh! Excuse me! I'm so sorry, that was entirely my fault."

Javi Gutierrez manages to keep himself from stumbling but immediately reaches out to steady you. “No, no, I was wandering around.” He shakes his head, ready to take the blame himself as his eyes meet yours and he swears that his heart skips a beat. He straightens slightly, still holding your arms. “Are you okay?” He asks softly, as if you had been injured by the minor collision.

"I'm totally fine." Shaken, sure, but only because of your own clumsiness and the fact that you just had to bump into the hottest guy you've ever seen in your entire life. "I—I'm sorry." Come on, get it together. "I was distracted." Lie, for fuck's sake. "I just noticed a little detail in the flooring that I had never seen before."

“The floor?” Javi frowns as he looks down at the intricate tiles beneath both of your feet. “What about the floor?” He asks curiously, wondering if it is something special.

"Well..." It's nerdy. It's so nerdy. But there actually is something special about the mosaic tile in this particular room of the house. "The billiard room is covered in mosaic, but I've never paid much attention to the grain of the marble before." An utter lie, you stare at it every day. "Do you see the swirls of blue and gray here? It's the same marble as the fireplace."

Instead of looking at you like you are crazy, Javi squats down and brushes his fingers over the glazed tiles, staring at the colorful patterns for a long moment, memorizing them. Then he lifts his head to stare at the fireplace. “So they tiled the mosaic with marble instead of regular tiles?” He asks, trying to follow.

"It looks like it." He gets excited easily, this incredibly handsome man, and it relaxes you a little. Guests who get excited about little details are one of the things you love most about working in a museum. "Now I'm thinking about taking a photo of the different colors and comparing them to the other fireplaces in the house."

“Can you backtrack through the house?” He looks around worried for a moment and then back at you. “The guides won’t get mad?”

"You're only a few rooms in, I can walk you back to the first fireplace if you'd like?" That would be the breakfast room, which is an easy stroll backward from where you are now and you point it out to him on the map that is printed on the packet of information in his hand. It seems he opted not to download the audio tour as so many do.

He tilts his head, contemplating it seriously. “Then we should do it, no?” He asks. “See if it matches? It should, or no? Maybe it depends on the style of the room?”

"Let's find out, if you're curious. We can check the three fireplaces in this section of the house and you can compare the pictures you take here to the others as you keep moving through the house." You would walk with him, guide him yourself, because it's just so nice to stumble upon someone nice and not on a date today...but abandoning your area of the house would get you in a hell of a lot of trouble.

“Okay.” He smiles at you and wonders if you are waiting for your partner to arrive. It’s Valentine’s Day after all and he had thought to distract himself with work. “The house is very, um, nice.” He says as you start to steer him back towards the other rooms. Small talk can be awkward and he’s not as good as it as he would like at times. Nervous about making a negative impression.

"The whole place is gorgeous." The grounds are a popular tourist attraction, with plenty of weddings and other parties happening on the grounds in addition to the mansion being a museum. "Have you ever visited Hazelwood Park before?"

“This is my first time.” Javi confesses. “I have heard of it, but woke up this morning and decided today was the day.” He had honestly figured there wouldn’t be a lot of couples here. He had been wrong.

"Well, welcome." Back in the breakfast room, you turn to face the soft green marble fireplace. "This does look like the same green of the turtle in the mosaic," you admit. The shades are remarkably similar.

“So they matched the edging of this floor to the fireplace.” The entire floor isn’t a mosaic, but the banding around the edges is. “This fireplace is larger.” He tilts his head. “Perhaps they did not have enough of the leftovers to use, hm?”

"If they only used the pieces that were considered scrap during the carving of the fireplaces, then it would make sense that they wouldn’t have any large pieces." The thin tile line around the otherwise parquet flooring has always charmed you unexpectedly. You had never seen anything like it before.

“It is a good way to use up all the materials.” He agrees. “Because I’m assuming the marble was imported?” It’s nothing he’s ever considered before but your enthusiasm for the details excites him.

"Oh yes, absolutely." In fact, you had had to memorize where all of it came from as part of your knowledge test to be a full-fledged docent. "This particular stone comes from Italy."

“You know a lot about this.” He smiles. “Is the house a favorite place to visit for you?”

"Oh!" You break out into a nervous laugh and realize that this entire time, the nametag and lapel pin that you wear on your cardigan marking you as an employee haven't been visible. "No, I--I work here. I've been here about a year now."

“Oh…oh I am sorry.” He bites his lip as he tries to hide the embarrassed grin. “I didn’t realize. I thought you were just an enthusiast.”

"Being an enthusiast is sort of how I got the job," you admit. Shrugging your shoulders, you straighten out your cardigan again and do up one button to make sure both pins stay visible. "It turns out that I really love it. Beyond just thinking the place is beautiful."

“That explains your comment about this section of the house.” He chuckles, wiping his hands on his pants and shoving them in his pockets. “I had assumed you were waiting on someone. Now I know that’s it’s other tour groups.

"Have to stay in my section." A light, awkward laugh travels between you but even that little sound from him sounds angelic. "But if you like these first few rooms, then you'll love the rest of the house."

“Which is your favorite room?” He asks, looking down at his map.

"Today?" You laugh a little, emboldened by the way he seems to smile with his whole face. Like he really doesn't mind talking to you. Like he might even enjoy it. "I love them all, but I think the library might be the best part of the whole house."

“Do you like to read?” He asks, charmed by your laugh and the way you seem to light up at the question. As if you aren’t normally asked a personal question. “The library was always where I was chided, but then it was also where I could escape into different worlds when I couldn’t do other things.”

"That's the beauty of books." Something you believe unabashedly. Stories are an escape -- whether that is books or movies or plays, or whatever else. "Being able to run away into a different world is powerful. It's freeing." Warmth creeps up your neck and into your cheeks and you nearly feel embarrassed for getting so excited about it except that he's still smiling. "The library in this house? I would curl up in front of that fireplace with a stack of books beside me on the chaise lounge and one of those little table all covered in the blue China from the butler's pantry and a whole plate of scones. I would just stay there all day and night."

“That sounds perfect.” He hums. “With the fire built up?”

“Oh, of course.” The scenario has played out in your head a thousand times, and one day you might just have to go antiquing for your own chaise so you can fulfill it. Of course…you’ll also need a home legitimate enough to have a fireplace. Not your shitty little studio apartment.

“Storm beating against the windows?” It would be a miracle in California, but he could imagine it in the setting of his latest screenplay. “Or snow?”

"Oh, it's been years since I saw a good snowstorm. I used to hate them, but I sort of miss it."

“I have not ever lived somewhere where there was snow.” He admits with a small shrug. “It is beautiful in pictures but I do not think it would be fun to have every day.”

"Oh, it's definitely not." Not even a little, and your immediate answer elicits laughs from both of you. "My favorite was when I was going to college in Boston and the college dug out our sidewalks for us. All the beauty of snow with none of the work."

“That is probably the best way to have the snow.” He admits with a laugh.

"Well..." Realizing you've probably monopolized enough of this extremely handsome, extremely charming man's time, you offer him a smile and try to smother the butterflies accumulating in the pit of your stomach. He has the most beautiful, soulful eyes you've ever seen. "Enjoy the rest of the museum. Take an extra look at the library when you pass through the south wing and you'll see what I mean about it being comfy."

He’s entirely disappointed to realize that he’s being dismissed. Enjoying the way you banter with him, he wishes he could ask you to give him the tour of the entire house so he could continue talking. Feeling more at ease with you than he has with anyone ever. “Thank you.” He hums softly. “I hope you have a wonderful day, full of beauty.”

"You too." You flounder for a few seconds, but you know you'll get in trouble if your supervisor sees you on the surveillance cameras talking to the same guest for too long, so you gently extract yourself to stroll as casually as possible back into the corner of the great hall that is included in your area of the house right now.

Javi watches you walk off and he sighs before he looks down at the map and pulls out his phone to take pictures of the rooms. Your attention to detail will have to be included in the film.

******

Saturday, December 23, 2023

It's the Christmas season the next time you see him, when the house is all done up in twinkling lights and wreaths with trimmed trees in almost every room. Bowls of chestnuts and pine cones and cherries replace the usual decorative hazelnuts and oranges. Pine boughs and poinsettias instead of big, beautiful flower arrangements. It's a nice change of pace, honestly, and on the weekends guests can buy tickets to the after-hours light display on the grounds. Out in the garden there are even refreshments and music plays from the trees that drip with even more lights.

Javier tucks into his light jacket. It’s not completely necessary, but it helps the spirit of the season. The lights are beautiful and he’s heard that the decorations are truly a sight to see.

The music outside just reminds you of the years that you worked in retail -- repetitive and sickly sweet Christmas songs pouring through speakers, but you dole out cups of cocoa and coffee at one of the refreshment tables outside with good enough spirits. There's bits of broken cookie to sneak every now and then, and the little gingerbread men are tasty morsels when you and the other docent working at the table can grab them.

“You were right about the library.” He hadn’t been looking for you. At least that’s what he tells himself, although he lights up for some reason when he recognizes you. “It’s perfect for a cozy day reading.”

"You..." It takes all you've got not to grab your friend's hand beside you, as the specter of the random guest you've had a crush on for almost a year materializes in front of you. "You remembered?" The full sentence is 'You remembered me?' but you don't say that.

He grins bashfully as he steps up to the table and looks down at the cookies and paper cups, trying to keep from staring at how pretty you are. Javi’s been around gorgeous women, but there’s something about the naked honest in your eyes that makes him feel almost feverish. “Of course I did.” He chuckles. “I went back through to find you that day, but you must have already gone home.”

“We move around the house every hour. To keep on our toes and so we don’t stare at the same set of walls the whole day.” Did he get even more attractive since last time? That would be so unfair. Criminally unfair, actually. “I’m so glad you enjoyed it. Enough to come back, even.”

“I had to see it during Christmas.” It also got him out of the tiny cottage he lives in. Around other people. Hopefully to distract from the loneliness of the holiday. “I don’t know if this might not be the best look for this place. Although I see it with candles lit all around.”

“It’s perfect in spring,” you tell him all too quickly, and end up flustering yourself so you have to tear your eyes away from his to look down at the grounds gather your damn wits back. “I mean…in early spring is when all the orange and hazelnut trees blossom. That’s how the property got its name. Hazelwood Park.”

“Is that so? I will have to check it out.” He looks suitably impressed and then motions to the table. “So, um, how much for a cookie and a cup of coffee?” He asks, not sure what else to say, but wanting to continue the conversation.

"Oh, they're free for guests. Help yourself." Your coworker offers helpfully, seeing you fluster and thoroughly enjoying the level of teasing that is going to happen after work tonight. "Why don't you take your break while we have a lull?" She suggests, practically batting her eyelashes with glee over the suggestion.

"Thanks, Moira," you hum with a tone that suggests you're going to kill her later. Then again? She has a point. These days that there are special events at work can be long. You've been on your feet for hours.

Javi is disappointed, sure that you will disappear on him since you have a chance to get off your feet and possibly get something to eat or drink yourself. “Oh, um, okay.” He takes a cup of be coffee and a cookie. “Thanks.”

"Make sure to show him your bench!" Moira suggests, far too loudly and excitedly to not be obvious, as she thrusts a cup of cocoa and a gingerbread man into your hands.

“Your bench?” He could kiss your friend for giving him something to grasp on to in order to keep the conversation going. “What is your bench?”

"It's...it's over on the west side of the property." You gesture to the left of were you're both standing and try to suppress the giddy and awkward shivers running up and down your spine. "Do you...would you want to walk?"

“Are you sure you want to?” He asks seriously, happy about spending time with you but it’s your break. “You don’t want to rest?”

"Benches are made for resting." Now that the chance has presented itself, you would actually be pretty bummed to miss out on the chance to chat with him again. And, in all honesty, you're pretty sure it's not your break at all. Moira just threw you out of the nest like a mama bird.

“Okay.” He agree to that easily and shifts to move the cookie into the same hand as his coffee to offer you his arm. “Lead the way.”

The chivalrous gesture damn near makes your knees buckle, and you follow suit. Shifting your snack into one hand lets you take his arm to lead him toward the ocean. "It's just...where I like to come sit." Of course it is. You groan at yourself internally. What else would you do at a bench but sit? "I take my lunch out here sometimes and things like that."

“So it’s your special place.” He likes the sound of that. Showing him something that you might not show every guest.

"I suppose you could say that." It's only a touch chilly tonight and the breeze coming off the ocean is welcoming. "It's a nice place to sit and think. To just watch the ocean and...dream."

“Hopefully the dreams are nice ones.” He offers, wondering what you might dream about. “Having a quiet place to think is always a good thing. I used to sit out at the cliffs and dream, plot, plan.”

"Cliffs?" Hazelwood Park is more or less on a cliffside, and you motion out toward the ocean again. "Like this one?"

“A little larger than this one.” He smiles as he thinks back to jumping off the cliff with Nic. “Mallorca has cliffs that go hundreds of meters in the air.” He tells you. “Some so steep you would be terrified to slip off the edge.”

“Mallorca?” Spanish. Damn. They really do make hotter men in Europe. “I’ve heard it’s beautiful there. You…traded one beautiful place to live for another?”

He shrugs slightly. “Hard to write movies anywhere else but Hollywood, no?”

“Hard, but not impossible.”

So there it is. Even the screenwriters in Hollywood are sexy. Maybe you should be grateful to live so close by, then? Southern California does have some fun things that back home didn’t. Rather than fawn over him — that’s never been your style — you just smile. “So you like libraries and you’re a writer. Stories run through your veins.”

“I would live in them if I could.” He admits wistfully. The little bench is drawing closer and he can see from the view from this point why you would like it. It’s a stunning place to look out over the water. The wind just a touch brisk as it ruffles his hair. The smell of the saltwater taking over.

“Me too.” And for reasons you can’t quite discern, you just keep talking. “That’s why I like history so much. It’s all just stories. Especially in big houses like this. Somebody’s whole life — their whole story — is wrapped up in that house.”

“And do you sometimes pretend you are the lady of the house?” He asks, imagining you in the skirts from that time.

"It would be sort of a shame to dream about the place and not dream the grand, elegant things. Wouldn't it?" When you reach the bench together, he seems to set you down first, letting you settle, and then sits beside you. "I think it's romantic. Curtis Hollingsworth built the place as a birthday gift for his wife. They were outgrowing their home because they were pregnant again, and he'd made millions helping to turn Santa Barbara into a spa town." The soft smile on your face is whimsical, but you can't help it. "Apparently, she loved oranges and hazelnuts. Which is why the trees are everywhere."

“He brought those to her.” He looks out over the water and takes a sip of the rich coffee. At least they had served a strong brew instead of something heartbreakingly weak. “To build a house for someone you love is a perfect way to show it.” He frowns slightly, remembering that he has a building site that was halted before the foundation was ever poured.

“It’s certainly a grand gesture.” Something in his tone and manner makes you hesitate, but you don’t know this man nearly well enough to ask a single personal question so you try to just press past it. “Of course, grand gestures aren’t the only way of showing love. Not by any means. But they do make wonderful stories.”

“Sometimes it’s just listening.” He agrees, thinking about how things between him and Gabriella had turned after moving to L.A. two years ago. She had been uninterested in the future he envisions and started working towards. Stopped talking to him about anything that wasn’t part of her own interests. He had tried to course correct, but it had ultimately not meant to be.

“I couldn’t agree more.” This time you do chance to look at him — sharp jaw and soft cheeks outlined against the night sky like a fully grown cherub, golden brown curls neatly and artfully tousled and waving in the breeze. He looks like a Romantic painting. “Lots of people talk about communication but not enough realize listening is included in that.”

His eyes find yours again, seeing the softness and understanding swimming in their depths and he feels like bearing his soul to you. “Is it probably the most important part.” He admits. “The world would be better if people understood that.”

“Again…” you swallow hard, feeling your mouth has run dry and chest fairly ripped open with the feeling of familiarity. “I couldn’t agree more.”

The silence falls between you. It’s not unpleasant, it’s almost hesitant. As if both of you are afraid of disturbing the uncluttered beauty of the moment as the waves crash against the coast at the wind batters playfully against your cheeks. Javi breaks off a piece of the cookie and dips it onto the coffee.

“You chose a beautiful night to come visit.” It’s clear and typically warm despite the ocean breeze, and even in the end of December, Southern California is a beautiful place to be. He could have gone to any of a thousand places but he chose to come here, and a small voice in the back of your head wonders — hopes — that maybe you had a part in making this place happy for him.

“I was compelled to come back.” He admits softly, looking over at you for a moment before breaking off the gaze to look out at the sea again.

“The house is like that.” When he looks away, you do too. “It draws people in.”

It’s not the house, but it would sound crazy to say that he wanted to see you again. Instead he hums. “I don’t think it’s just the house.”

“Well…” If you wanted to take that to heart, you feel like you could. It wouldn’t be difficult to give yourself that little bit of hope. But despite being easy, it would probably be very foolish. “I hope it helps you miss home a little less to sit on these cliffs, instead.”

“I think it does.” He takes the bite of the cookie and groans happily. “These are good.”

“Gingerbread is highly underrated,” you agree, and take a bite of your own after dipping it into your cup of cocoa. “I get why they’re seasonal but I wish I could find them so easily all year long.”

“Yes.” He agrees. “They would be good anytime.”

“What’s your favourite kind of cookie?” The question is innocuous enough, but you find yourself curious anyway. Curious to know about anything he feels like telling you.

He chuckles and lifts a shoulder innocently. “A good chocolate chip cookie is always a comfort.” He admits. “Sometimes the simple things are the best.” He twists his head and looks over to you. “What is yours?”

“Have you ever heard of a hermit cookie?” You ask, raising an eyebrow, and grinning in amusement when he looks confused. “It’s a soft, spice cookie. Like gingerbread. Sometimes with raisins and nuts in it. They’re a bit old fashioned, but wonderful with coffee.”

“They sound like I should try some.” He would try anything you recommend right now, a fact that should scare him but it doesn’t. “How old are the cookies?” He asks, thinking about his screenplay.

“They’re from the 1880s or 90s, I think?” It does not escape your amusement or notice that this is the same time that the house you work in was built. “I don’t know if they’ve ever been popular outside of New England, but we do love them there.”

He hums and takes note of that. Deciding he will research it. “Hermit cookies.” He repeats. “Are there recipes for this? Online?”

"Probably." His entire attention has now focused in on this just because you said it was your favorite cookie and that makes you smile in a way you can't quite explain.

“Then I will have to look it up.” He smiles as he takes another sip of his coffee. “I like researching things. It is very interesting. Like your marble mosaic tiles.”

"You researched the tiles?" It's the sort of thing that you would only think of you or your coworkers doing, but hearing that he has enjoyed his time in the house -- and possibly with you -- so much warms your heart.

“It was interesting to learn how they chose the marbles.” He nods. “I never imagined a trip to Europe to pick out building materials.”

"It's a heck of a reason for a vacation," you agree, laughing slightly at the opulence of it all.

“Yes. And trips would take months.” He chuckles.

"I can't even imagine." To take a vacation at all would be a miracle. But one that was months long? It sounds positively absurd to your ear.

“Do you think they ever got bored?” He asks curiously. “Or tired of being away from home?”

"I have to imagine that they did." It's a question you've thought on more than you want to admit, but the stories in your head are always about everyday things. Wondering what the mundane things were like. "If I had a home like this I can't imagine ever wanting to be away from it. But I suppose the right person can make anything worthwhile."

“Were they soulmates?” He asks softly, having avoided the personal backgrounds of the homeowners when taking the tour. He had tried to keep his own characters in mind.

“They were. And when they left the house to their daughter, she married her soulmate here. And then her daughter married her soulmate here, as well. The house has a history of lifelong loves.”

“That is nice.” His tone is wistful. “I don’t know if I will ever meet my soulmate.” Javi confides, normally keeping that information to himself but he blurts it out. “I worry about it sometimes.”

“I don’t know a single person who hasn’t worried about it at some point.” Even your sister, who said she didn’t mind not marrying her soulmate as long as the woman she found was a loving partner, had been thoroughly overjoyed when she had found her now wife on Mate Marks. Everyone thinks about it — worries about it — even if they don’t want to admit it. “I wouldn’t worry, if I were you.” You offer him a smile, knowing you’ve gone over your fifteen minutes for your break and not wanting to be caught flirting with a guest on company time. “Whoever you do find is going to be very lucky to have you.”

He smiles again. “Have you found yours?” He figures you probably have, you are beautiful and captivating.

"Not yet." Even though you'd rather not, you stand from the bench. "I don't know if I ever will. Only time will tell."

“I know you have to go back to work.” Javi leaps off the bench and shuffles, wishing he could ask you to stay. “Thank you for showing me this place.” He bites his lip. “Uh, can I walk you back?”

The warmth rushes back to your cheeks, and you practically squirm with delight. "Thank you. I'd like that."

He offers his arm again, taking your empty hot cocoa cup from you to hold with his own trash. “Imagine the parties they used to hold here.” He breathes out as the two of you turn back towards the house.

"We're setting up an exhibit with some of the gowns. It's meant to open in about six weeks." You light up with that fact, excited to see all the swishing gowns and glimmering jewels for yourself. "Descendents of the family donated a large collection of clothing, shoes, and jewelry to the museum this part year."

“Wow.” He chuckles, thinking about the parties he would throw when he was pretending to be an olive oil exporter. He’s much happier being a screen writer, even if he can’t afford those parties and bought friends anymore. “That was generous of them.”

"They say the most spectacular pieces are still privately owned by the family, but the things I've seen so far have been absolutely gorgeous." If you're a little dreamy-eyed at the prospect, he doesn't seem to mind.

“It sounds like you would have loved to live during that time.” He smiles, knowing that he will have to insist the movie be filmed here.

"I'm probably overly romanticizing it," you admit. But the tent is in view already and you hate the sinking feeling in the pit of your stomach that wonders if he'll ever come back again. "I hope—" Biting back what you really hope, you go for a polite encouragement instead, "That the things you've found in your research have given you plenty to think about. And maybe romanticized it for you, too."

“It has.” Even if you have no interest in him, you’ve given him a focal point for his movie. “Thank you. This is a magical place.”

"Then I hope you'll come back again." At least in that you can be honest. There is nothing you would like more than to see him again.

“Really?” He’s surprised by your comment. Unless you are just being polite.

"Really." You promise him, but at the edge of the refreshments tent, you have to let his arm go.

He’s disappointed by the loss of your fingers on his jacket. “Well. I hope the rest of your night is magical.” He offers, bowing slightly and smiling at you.

"I can all but guarantee it now." One more smile. One more lingering, dopey smile, and you know you have to tear yourself away. "Have a good night..." Oh no. Have you really gone and sat and flirted with this man for your whole break and not even learned his name?

He nods and turns away, sure that it would be rude to try to extend the conversation. He will just have to go home and write about this, working it into the plot of his movie somehow.

******

Monday, June 10, 2024

The email went out before opening time, when only your bosses were up in the offices and the docent core hadn’t gotten to work yet. You’d nearly crashed your car in excitement while CarPlay read the email out to you on the highway.

A movie. An actual Hollywood movie is coming to film at the museum!

The second you clocked in and sprinted to the break room to put your things away, you almost clobbered Moira with squealed, giddy glee.

“Did you hear?? Did you see Leslie’s email?!”

“Oh my god, yesssss.” She lights up and nods quickly. “It’s a movie by that guy who did the Nic Cage movie a couple of years ago.” She informs you. “The one that won an Oscar and restarted that man’s career?” After a long slump of bad movies, the older actor had exploded back on the scene, apparently full of new life and motivation for his trade.

“I can’t wait until we find out more!” Being able to hug your friend and squeal together is such a rush. The two of you have become joined-at-the-hip work friends to the point where the friendship has bled into everyday life. “A name, a plot, any of the stars?”

“Actors.” She sighs dreamily. “Imagine if your soulmate or mine, is an actor who comes to film?” She loves the glitz and glam of Hollywood and always secretly imagined being an actress herself, although she’s realistic enough to understand that it would be impossible to have happen.

“Maybe yours will be.” You laugh, hugging her again before you have to break away to pull your radio headset out of your bag. There is still work to do today, desire the excitement. “You’ll have to make sure you always wear your hair up so your tattoo is visible.” The little raven behind her ear would be a hell of a lot easier to show off than the tarot card on her though, anyway. Moira’s tattoos are gorgeous and just unique enough that you would bet there was no duplicate in the works besides her soulmate.

“Oh I’m planning on it.” She licks her lips and waggles her brows suggestively. “What about you? Yours aren’t so visible.” She knows how much you secretly want to meet your soulmate and be with them. It was a drunken girl’s night confession but she had never teased you over it.

“There’s no reason to go around showing everyone my marks.” You shrug a little and busy yourself with plugging into a walkie-talkie and adjusting your headset in your ear. “A lot of people have ankle scars, don’t they? And I can’t exactly show off my butterfly.” Exposing that much skin is definitely against dress code.

“Is it your scar or his?” You had never mentioned that, just that you had a scar.

“It’s theirs.” However your soulmate is, you’ve tried very hard not to make assumptions about them. The person you hope for might not be the person you get, and that wouldn’t be fair to them. “I was nine when it appeared, so my best guess has always been they fell out of a tree or play sports.”

“And the tattoo is yours?” She knows, she’s just chatting because it’s better than actually getting ready to work right now.

“Twenty-first birthday.” You nod, knowing that she knows but that Moira likes a slower start to her day than you usually do. “I did the opposite of most people. I got the tattoo and then went out to get drunk.”

“Which is a very valid and smart thing to do.” She praises. “That way you don’t bleed too much and it’s a nice way to numb the pain after.” Her own walkie comes out to begrudgingly clip to her waist. “But this movie, it has to be a period piece, right? No way a modern millionaire would live in a house like this.”

“It has to be. There’s no point in renting out a historical house museum for four entire months unless you’re going to use it all.” Not that you know too much about the filming process, but it just makes logical sense. “And besides, they’re here in spring and summer, which is usually our busy season. So I’m sure Leslie charged them a fortune. But HBO can afford it, I guess.”

“What if they let us be extras?” Her eyes widen at the sudden thought. “Oh god, we could wear our work!” She giggles happily at the thought.

“I assume there will have to be extras somehow.” Truthfully, you’d let your Hollywood dreams die out a long time ago. Moira’s were much more present. It would be amazing to see her to be able to fulfill them with even just a morsel like being an extra. “I guess we’ll just have to find out, won’t we?”

“When it gets closer you will be just as excited as I am.” She predicts with a knowing grin.

“I’m plenty excited,” you promise, happily hugging her to your side as the two of you head out into the house together. “I just think you belong in front of a camera much more than I do.”

“You’ll change your mind.” She teases. “When you see what gorgeous actors and actresses they bring, you will be begging to flirt with them. On and off camera.”

“Maybe.” Her confidence is catching, and you laugh again at the thought of it. Hollywood has come knocking on your door and it’s already making work a hell of a lot more fun.

------ Master Tags: @pixiedurango @chattychell @winter-fox-queen @lady-himbo @artsymaddie @princess76179 @paintballkid711 @missminkylove @pedrosbrat @ew-erin @sarahjkl82-blog @sharkbait77 @justanotherblonde23 @lv7867 @recklesswit @mylittlesenaar @f0rever15elf @gallowsjoker @steeevienicks @athalien @sherala007 @skvatnavle @thatpinkshirt @jaime1110 @girlimjusttryingtoreadfanfics @goodgriefitsawildworld @greeneyedblondie44 @littlemousedroid @harriedandharassed @churchill356 @ajathegreats-blog @haylzcyon @beardsanddetectives @kirsteng42 @ladykatakuri @adancedivasmom @madiebear @tanzthompson @emilianamason @bigsdinger @xocalliexo @pedr0swh0r3 @avaleineandafryingpan @charlyrmv @avidreader73 @iceclaw101 @loveslide @elegantduckturtle @becsworld @julesonrecord @its-nebuleuse @itsrubberbisquit @mikeyswifie @guelyury @lizzie-cakes @for-a-longlongtime @vabeachazn @purplerain04 @weho2kcmo @madnessofadaydreamer

#Pedro Pascal #Pedro Pascal character fanfiction #Pedro Pascal fanfic #Javi Gutierrez #Javi Gutierrez x you #Javi Gutierrez x reader #Javi Gutierrez x female reader #Javi Gutierrez x f!reader #Javi G #TUWOMT #the unbearable weight of massive talent #soulmate au

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