#but waiting for your ex is never a good idea but i still did it cuz im dumb

[hot-patootiee]

Part 3

part 2 here. I’m writing these like right after my Calc BC exam and I have a killer headache but fuck it we ball. Aka Steve is not the only one to obtain brain damage because of an ex.

Don’t worry about the headache, I’m having a special gummy and chilling.

…

Eddie wakes up to an empty bed. He finds a note on the nightstand.

Had to go to work, see you later

-Steve

An idea forms in his head on what to do to help apologize. Steve’s constant complaints about the big empty house he lived in. How he wished Robin or Eddie could stay forever.

Eddie was still a little unsure. It would be quite an assumption to make. He would probably have to talk to Robin during her break and see if she would also be on board and if she thought it was a good idea.

But, he knew Steve would be ecstatic to have people he cared about close by. Eddie couldn’t help but remember the nights he was woken up from Steve calling to make sure he was alive.

It would suck moving away from Wayne, but Eddie figured that taking the relationship too serious would be better than not taking it serious enough.

Eddie decided that despite just waking up at this unholy hour (11 am), he would go see Robin and brief her on his plan.

When he got to family video, luckily, Steve was working in the back and Robin sat at the desk.

She perked up as soon as she saw him.

“Eddie I messed up.” Robin stumbles out with a groan.

Eddie waits for her to continue.

“I didn’t know that Steve thought you two were dating. He’s been talking about you for weeks and I never noticed.” Robin whines again, head dropping shamefully.

“I have just the thing.” And just like that Robin is up again.

“Really?” Robin exclaimed, jumping on her toes as she leaned against the counter. Eddie personally didn’t think Robin could show this much emotion, but with Steve’s stories, it doesn’t really surprise him.

“Do you think Steve would be on board with us living with him?”

“He’s been asking me to forever, it’s just my parents give me crap for moving in with a single man.” Robin replied plainly, hints of resentment lacing her voice.

“Well you’re 18 and therefore you make your own decisions. Do you want to move in with him?” Eddie probes and Robin smiles at him in return.

She nods hard, making her hair bounce with the stiff jerks of her head.

“I want to do something else too.” Eddie mutters.

Robin seems a little suspicious as she says “Good idea, but why?”

“This is kinda both a burden and a blessing. Steve’s been wanting it for a while, but it ultimately gives him more work to do.” Eddie points ponders slowly. He rolls over potential actions in his mind, seeing how smoothly they work before coming to a conclusion.

“Maybe just a nice night. Steve gets headaches and weed might help him relax. Or He’s been talking about hosting a game night forever, we could take care of everything and just let him relax.” Eddie shrugs, thinking through different dinner options and possibilities of what Steve would like.

“Ask Steve if there’s anything you can do to make his life easier. He’s selfless by nature so there’s probably something you’ve been doing that he doesn’t like.” Robin replies coolly. She then winces. “I should probably stop putting my feet on his dash.” She murmurs in a guilty tone.

“That’s a good idea.” Eddie nods.

“I gotta pack my shit, I’ll help you pack yours, you help with mine?” Robin inquires. The way she bats her eyes might’ve seemed flirty to anyone else, but it was evidently just effective manipulation. Because Eddie knew unless he was throwing all his shit out the window, she would immediately get bored and ditch him for a German dictionary.

News flash: she did.

…

Steve surprisingly did not get impatient as time trudged on. Eddie searched his face for any mark of displeasure, but failed to find any.

But, apparently Eddie just wasn’t the one seeing it. Something about Steve had changed a little bit, instead of backing down when challenged, he just dug his heels in. It reminded Eddie of the Steve in the upside down.

Allegedly Steve had been driving all the kids down to the new diner. Mike had been skeptical about Steve’s directions and had started loudly declaring that he had gone the wrong way.

“It’s not like you’re the intellectual authority on anything Steve.”

The breaks were hit so fast that all the boys jerked forward with the sudden stop.

According to Dustin Steve then yelled “WELL I AM THE AUTHORITY OF THIS GODDAMN CAR, GET OUT IF YOU HAVE AN ISSUE!”

Steve waited a few beats and when nobody moved, put down the parking break and the engine whined slightly as Steve shifted into first a little too violently and pulled out.

Mike was scared so badly that he just sat there petrified for the rest of the ride.

So, Steve was evidently frustrated.

Eddie went to visit Steve immediately after hearing what happened. When he found him, Steve was grumbling on his bed. Obviously still peeved about earlier, every few seconds he would reflexively rub his temples.

Steve nearly jumped out of his skin when he noticed Eddie.

Eddie didn’t say anything, he just pulled out a joint and handed it to Steve, who took it apprehensively.

“It helps with headaches.” Eddie weakly justifies, but it seems to be enough to convince Steve, who then leans forward and sticks his hand in Eddie’s pocket and extracts a lighter.

He lights the joint with little fanfare, like he was just having his third daily cigarette. He breathes it in easily before expelling the smoke through his pursed lips.

“This is a little different.” Steve comments, slightly more relaxed at the promise of a high that the joint brought.

“I swapped seeds with Argyle, I had sativa, he had indica. What you’re smoking, just indica, apparently argyle is trying to get the hybrid strain.” Eddie says in a blasé tone as he climbs into Steve’s bed.

“What’s the difference?” Steve asked before taking another hit, longer this time.

“It’s supposed to relax you more. Less high, but more relaxing.” Eddie loosely explains.

Steve hogs the joint a little, but Eddie honestly thinks he deserves it. When Steve finally plops his head on Eddie’s lap, he gets an idea.

Eddie sinks his fingers into Steve’s hair and slowly begins to massage his head. Steve immediately melted into it, muscles straining occasionally when Eddie dragged his fingers especially hard at a tender spot.

Conversation became less frequent as Eddie pushed his fingers into Steve’s jaw and massaged the tense muscles there. Steve made the occasional noise, a grunt or a strange trill that he seemed to find incredibly funny.

The tension and brewing migraine seemed to have completely melted off Steve, leaving him tired and happy. He giggled through half lidded eyes and smiled impossibly wide when Eddie left and came back with reheated leftover pizza from Steve’s fridge.

Eddie struggled not to focus on Steve’s face, his gaze traced Steve’s wide smile and the sparkle in his dark eyes.

“Kis’me” the words came from Steve with a slight lisp. An unwavering smile still plastered on his face.

Eddie obliged because honestly how could he not?

The movement caused Eddie’s face to feel like firecrackers were going off on his skin. The tingling sensation danced across his skin, warmth blooming from where Steve and him met.

Eddie couldn’t focus, incredibly overwhelmed by the assault on his senses of different textures and pressures. The plushness of Steve’s lips contrasted with the lean muscle Eddie’s fingers dug into.

Eddie pulled away when his lungs went tingly from lack of air. He giggled as Steve and him stayed close, puffing out breaths of air right next to eachother.

“Wish you could stay all the t’me.” Steve yawned out, stretching his back slightly like a cat and dipping further into Eddie’s personal space.

“I can.” Eddie replies firmly.

“Really?” Steve is smiling again, so wide that Eddie was worried it might hurt from pulling his lips.

“How’d you like that? I move in with you, maybe Robin too.”

Steve trills, making soft stringy vocalizations at Eddie’s proposal. Steve nearly seems to glow at the proposition.

“Youu move ‘n tomorrow?” Steve’s muscles jump erratically in excitement, his knees tapping and jerking like he can’t control it.

“If you still want me to in the morning.” Eddie whispered, stroking Steve’s hair.

…

When morning came, Eddie woke gently, the after effects of the high still cradling him and making him relaxed.

Unfortunately it didn’t last long as he heard a shrill whistle and the telltale thump of something falling and Robin’s witchlike giggles. Eddie reluctantly pulled himself out of bed and found the hallway scattered with boxes. He turned the corner and Will and El were both there, but not to make things easier. El had a little whistle she was happily blowing whenever someone passed her. Will seemed conflicted on whether he found it funny or entirely too disrespectful for him to take part in.

Unfortunately, the first time El did this, it scared Robin so badly that she nearly threw a box of her own clothes down the stairs.

And there Robin was, clothes halfway out of the box and engulfing her upper body. Steve was laughing his socks off which promptly led to a fistful of clothes being thrown in his face.

Eddie quickly decided he wanted nothing to do with this and quietly made his way back to Steve’s room.

Best to act like he didn’t know them for a few more hours.

…

When Eddie finally arose at a normal time (11:30am) he found Robin setting up the room across from Steve with her stuff.

“Heya birdie.”

Robin glared at him.

“I talked it over with Steve, he’s apparently thrilled enough to forgive me only after I cook gnocchi.”

Eddie makes a half confused noise.

“Potato pasta.” Robin paused. “And you’re helping.” Robin asserts, making Eddie grumble.

Eddie leaves without seeing Steve, opting to also grab his shit to move to Steve’s house. Luckily, he and Robin had already boxed up a majority of the room.

It was probably a good thing he’s moving, Wayne’s back couldn’t take the couch springs much longer.

He packed his boxes into the van, the summer sun making his sweat so much he was forced to change into one of his sleeveless tops.

When he arrived back at Steve’s the kitchen had been fully commandeered by Robin who was peeling steaming potatoes with her fingers. Eddie didn’t get more of a glance as he began moving his stuff upstairs, abandoning it in the hallway because he was a little unsure what room Steve would want him in.

During one of his trips back down to his van, Steve finally appeared. He was sitting next to the counter and stealing potato bits from Robin as she worked. He looked at home in his own house for the first time in a while. His eyes traced Robin carefully as she worked as if she’d disappear. When Steve noticed Eddie, his eyes immediately flicked over to him.

“Which room should I move my stuff in?” Eddie asked with false casualness.

“Mine.”

Steve made no move to help, which was honestly something Eddie fully expected. Instead Steve bounced his feet on the floor with a smile and stuffed another crumbling bit of potato into his mouth. Eddie had apparently failed to realize the two little gremlins sitting in Steve’s shadow. Will and Eleven similarly shoving potato bits into their mouths.

Eddie couldn’t help but smile at Steve’s happiness.

…

Later that night, with boxes still artfully scattered around the second floor, a train of children entered the house. Each carried either a food item to contribute or a housewarming present.

Max grumbled as she handed Steve the Apple pie that had evidently been made by the Sinclairs, judging by the streak of flower on the back of Lucas’s shirt.

Eddie was setting up ‘a game of things’ which he knew from experience would always wonderfully devolve into Regan jokes and idiocy.

Steve got to sit and relax as Eddie and Robin hosted the party, letting him play with the kids and receive their guilty apologies. Since they were still kids, Steve forgave them. Heck, he was way more self absorbed and dickish at their age.

When Eddie finished, he dropped behind Steve, putting his hands on Steve’s shoulders and beginning to rub into the tense muscles. Steve twitched occasionally when Eddie hit a knot, but otherwise seemed pretty content.

“Your metal music gives me headaches.” Steve says suddenly. “You play it too loud and it hurts.”

“Then I’ll turn down the music. You’ll never get a headache from it again.” Eddie affirms.

Steve just hums.

“I forgive you.”

Steve paused for a moment.

“But that doesn’t mean you can stop massaging me.” Steve snapped, head lolling back until it met Eddie’s arms.

AN: have a head massage while high, it’s the best thing ever.

Also, I just don’t understand grand gestures of love, they never made me feel good. Like thanks for the stuffed animal and candies, kinda doesn’t make up for you being a dick about my dead dog. How about you instead like make something that takes time and actually shows you give a shit or go out of your way to give me a good night. I don’t understand the fall in love fast thing a lot of people do. I cultivate my love by the light of the hearth, not the light of a firecracker.

Ps. If you want me to do a follow up where Nancy and him talk. Just let me know. It’s just I didn’t really see her as central part of this story. Thought it would be better to highlight the kids, Robin, and Eddie.

Tags @stripey82 @genderfluidbitch @mensch-anthropos-human @c4tharsys @scoops-aboy86 @breealtair @raleighrox @wannabe-edgy-grandpa @flustratedcas @shoujo-wizard @polysdoitforscience @exasperatedsighohmy @piemaker93 @tinyplanet95 @skepticalqueen @sharingisntkaren @scarletyeager @crypticcrytid @midnightskeeper @wheneverfeasible @ancientwormcivilization @fucjinf-whatever-dude @estrellami-1 @queenofshenanigans @grilledcheesehasfeelings <- get out of my walls

@ellietheasexylibrarian @live-laugh-love-dietrich @turinspeachjam @me-ig7 @revevivant @motherofpirates @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @samsoble @legalmenace87 @thehanwen @bigspongey @thedragonsaunt @newagemyth @pentapoctopus @my-hyperfixations-hell-blog @bumbledoubletea @blackbirdflyflyfly @what-if-a-dragon @reddiandbyler4life @i-think-i-thunk @gregre369 @fiddledeedee85 @ladykailitha

You know the drill, rest of the tags in the comments.

[hxlxnaaa]

𝐬𝐲𝐥𝐮𝐬 ─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─ 𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐫𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐨𝐝𝐲 𝐫𝐞𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫𝐬

★ 𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: a year after the breakup, one fight still haunts them both. when sylus shows up again, it all comes rushing back—every kiss, every scream, every regret. they miss each other. they need each other. and this time, they’re not letting go.

★ 𝐜𝐰/𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: ex boyfriend sylus, canon divergence, slight angst if you squint, dw there's comfort, brief mentions of zayne, reader is VERY briefly implied to be a student, plot with porn, emotional make up sex, like crying during the deed, slightly toxic but they're in love, they're healing ok, sylus is a simp, reader is down bad, this is soft and filthy at the same time

★ 𝐰𝐜: 10.5k

★ 𝐚/𝐧: this came to me in a prophetic vision and i needed to write it. i LOVEEE the idea of ex boyfriend sylus. like mmmm give me more…. anyways im not very good nor comfortable with writing smut but i had to do it so here it is. i hope i executed it well LMAO. was originally gonna be porn with plot but i got too locked in… enjoy!

Nothing about the breakup was amicable.

It wasn’t one of those slow fades, where two people quietly drift in different directions until they’re just gone. No, it was one fight—loud, sharp, nasty and just downright cruel. The kind that leaves a ringing in your ears and words you wish you could take back. One moment, and everything you were just blew apart. 

You didn’t walk away. 

No, you crashed—hard. Spun out of each other’s lives like planets knocked off course.

You always fought like that—both of you stubborn, neither one willing to back down. It wasn’t anything new. You’re not even sure what exactly made you lose it that time.

Maybe it was the way he embarrassed you in front of everyone. Maybe you’d had too much to drink. Or maybe you were just finally done. Done with the constant tension, the little digs, all the crap you kept letting slide. Just sick and tired of his shit.

You don’t even remember what you said, just playfully whining to your friend beside you.

“You get used to her overreacting. She just needs attention.”

And then everyone laughed. Maybe at you, maybe just at the joke—who even knows anymore. He always had a way of getting people to laugh like that, soaking up attention with that slick charisma he wore like his dumb expensive cologne. And this time? That charm of his came at the cost of your dignity. Your pride.

You bit your tongue and swallowed everything you wanted to scream. Unlike him, you weren’t going to make a scene—not in front of all your friends. No, you kept your mouth shut, had a few more drinks, sat in silence the whole Uber ride home, and waited.

He followed you inside like nothing was wrong, started taking off his coat like he always did, settling in like it was just any other night. But you stopped him. Told him to hang on a second. Then you walked straight to your room, grabbed every single thing he owned—every sock, every hoodie, every stupid little trinket—and dumped it all at his feet.

And that’s when it started. You brought up what he said, how he embarrassed you, how he made you feel like a goddamn joke in front of everyone. And of course—of course—he didn’t take you seriously. Laughed it off, like he always did. Like your anger, your hurt, was some kind of performance he’d already seen too many times.

Like your overreacting was just a grab for attention.

That’s when you snapped. You weren’t just arguing about that night anymore—you were tearing into everything. Every moment you’d swallowed your pride, every time you felt small, every time he talked over you or dismissed you like you didn’t matter.

You started throwing his stuff at him, screaming like your chest was on fire, like you could rip his voice out of the air just to make it stop. Told him to get the fuck out, that you never wanted to see his stupid fucking face again. It was bad, the kind of fight that had cops on the doorstep. That was the only thing that finally got him to leave. The only reason that ugly night finally stopped.

Then came the texts—him cycling through the five stages of grief in your messages. 

‘Sweetie, you know me better than this. What happened to us, to you?’

‘Can we just sit down? I’ll listen, really. I’ll hear you.”

‘Don’t throw away everything we’ve built in one moment of anger.’

You had to silence his calls, his texts. Your phone had practically turned into a vibrator with the way he was spamming it.

But you never found it in yourself to block his number.

Once, you walked out of class and there he was, waiting outside like he’d been watching for you. He tried to talk to you, and you had to practically sprint to get away. After that, you started taking different routes to your classes, finding back ways around buildings, just to avoid him. It felt like you couldn’t even breathe without him showing up.

He sent gifts to your doorstep; monetary, thoughtless gestures like expensive jewelry, new designer clothes, extravagant bouquets. But on nights you spent cramming for exams or buried in the library, you’d come home to meals from your favorite restaurants or baskets filled with all the snacks you loved.

There was never a note, but you didn’t need one. You always knew who it was from.

But it didn’t take long for it all to stop. The texts, the gifts, the way you’d catch glimpses of him standing around places you used to go. You thought you’d be relieved, but now… it’s different. Sometimes, you almost miss it—the reminder that he was still there, still trying. It felt like you still mattered to him, even if it was twisted.

Despite all the fights, he was good. Good to you, and just good in that rare, complicated way some people are. His heart was made of gold and steel—soft in places, unbreakable in others. He just didn’t always know how to use it.

But you know you mattered to him. You felt it, even when everything else was falling apart.

Right person, wrong time, you guess.

Because despite your 3 year relationship coming to an abrupt, sudden and earth shattering halt—life goes on.

Though, it took a while.

At first, his constant pleas for forgiveness built a wall between you and any real chance at healing. And then there was the regret—that heavy, gnawing feeling that maybe, just maybe, you’d made a huge mistake. That maybe you’d let go of the best thing you ever had. Lost something you weren’t sure you’d ever find again.

It didn’t help that you shared the same circle of friends. He was everywhere—smiling in group photos, lit up in stories, slipping into your feed like a ghost that refused to rest. You’d catch a glimpse, tap the tag, and spiral into his page like it was muscle memory. You told yourself it was harmless curiosity, that you just wanted to know if he was okay now that the begging had gone quiet.

But deep down, you were searching for something else.

Hoping he hadn’t moved on.

Eventually, you found a rhythm. Learned when to look away from social media, which friends to sidestep in conversation. You slipped into a beat that no longer used him as an instrument. 

And slowly, quietly, you began to write a new song.

Without Sylus.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

You sat cross-legged on the floor of Zayne’s apartment, your head resting in your hands as you watched him work. His eyes were locked on his laptop, fingers moving with careful precision, while his glasses kept sliding down the bridge of his nose. Every few minutes, he’d pause just long enough to push them back up, never once looking away for long.

You’d been seeing each other for a few months now. It had been a year, finally a full year, since everything fell apart.  

“Better to get back out there,” you told yourself.

You met Zayne through one of your new friends. He had asked for your number, and you gave it to him without thinking too hard—if you did, you’d start to feel the guilt you were trying to desperately ignore. He’s a doctor, living the kind of life that sounded like ambition carved into marble—precise and immovable. He had plans, timelines, a path so clearly mapped out it felt like there wasn’t room for detours.

He’s sweet. Gentle in ways you didn’t realize you needed. 

He doesn’t set off fireworks in your chest, but maybe that’s okay. Maybe peace was always the thing you were chasing.

But, sometimes, being with him felt like standing in a waiting room of his life. Like you were something brief, something meant for now but not later. A warm presence to come home to, but never quite a part of the long term picture. 

Because of that, you weren’t exactly together—but you weren’t not together, either. It was strange, undefined, but it worked. You didn’t know if you were ready for something more serious yet, a new commitment after what came before.

And Zayne was so different from him.

Zayne was calm where he had been wild. Predictable where he had been chaotic. Steady where he had burned.

But sometimes you missed the fire.

The way he could make you feel like the center of the universe with just a look, the way everything with him was urgent, desperate, alive. It hadn’t been easy, but it had been electric.

With Zayne, it sometimes felt like you were too much for him. Like he didn’t really know what to do with all of you. But with him, it was the opposite—he couldn’t get enough.

Zayne was still a good guy. That should’ve been enough.

Even if you already knew what it felt like to be wanted completely. Wanted like a storm.

"Do you want to grab food?" you asked, tapping gently on the back of his laptop. You knew better than to interrupt his flow, but you hadn’t come over just to sit and watch him work.

He hummed in response, barely acknowledging you.

You sighed. "So you wouldn’t care if I blew up your apartment?"

Another hum.

To be fair, he had promised dinner earlier. He just needed to finish his work—and then he just needed a bit more time… And then a little more after that.

That was three hours ago.

This time, you reach for the top of his laptop screen, and his eyes flick up to you—blinking slowly, like he’s just now registering the reality outside of his research paper.

Zayne frowns, the disapproval clear on his face. You mirror him with a frown of your own, arms crossing over your chest.

"It’s getting late," you say, your tone edging on impatient. "Let me know what you want, and I’ll go pick it up."

“No, it’s alright.” He finally shuts his laptop with a quiet click, then takes off his glasses and sets them gently on the table beside him. His eyes meet yours—tired, a little guilty.

“I’m sorry for taking so long,” he says, voice softer now, like he means it.

You shrug in response, but inside, your thoughts begin to stir.

They did this sometimes—whenever Zayne did something even slightly wrong.

He would never do that.

He would never make you wait more than an hour—and that was only if something came up. He always respected your time, always made sure you knew you were a priority. 

He was always there when he said he would be—in every single sense.

The guilt rises again, thick and suffocating in your chest. Guilt for what you did, guilt for even thinking about him when Zayne is right here. The way Zayne’s hesitation, his lack of urgency, makes everything feel distant.

‘If he would never do that, why don’t you go back to him?’ Though sarcastic, the thought cuts through you bitterly. You scoff, but the question lingers.

“Where do you want to go?” Zayne asks, his voice pulling you out of the fight with your own subconscious. You blink, disoriented for a moment, before his words sink in.

“Anywhere you’d like,” he continues, “As an apology for making you wait so long.”

You don’t know why you say it, and you're not even sure if you want to go there, but the words leave your lips anyway. You tell him you want to go to this place across town.

Zayne doesn’t know. He doesn’t know the history of that place, the weight of the memories tied to it, the way it feels like a part of him still lingers there. And you don’t want to taint him with that—don’t want to drag him into this aggressive, aching space inside you.

But it’s like everything in you aches to go there, anyway.

To feel a fragment of him again, even if it’s through something so small, so insignificant. Just to be near a place that once held the kind of warmth you crave now. To feel a piece of what it was, even if you know you’ll never truly get it back.

To just miss him for a second.

Maybe it’s cruel of you to drag Zayne along. He’s clueless, unaware of the heaviness of this strange little hole in the wall restaurant. Doesn’t know why you stay silent the entire ride, eyes fixed on the world outside, every single tree passing by like a painful reminder.

You can feel the hole in your chest, the space he used to fill, and it’s all you can do not to let it consume you.

When you arrived, even the bricks outside were enough to make your heart lurch. For a second—an honest, long second—you forgot who you were with.

You turned, expecting to see silver hair, eyes like cut rubies, that familiar warmth of a presence that used to pull the air from your lungs.

But instead, you were met with something gentler. A forest, not a flame.

Zayne took your hand, his brows drawn with concern. “Are you alright?” he asked.

You forced a smile—too quick, too practiced—and nodded.

“Yeah.”

But even as the word left your mouth, you could feel the lie settle in the air between you.

The inside was just as cruel. Small and warm, familiar in a way that wrapped around your ribs and squeezed. The feeling was a tie between a warm hug and suffocating.

Maybe you were a masochist for letting yourself come here—for asking to be brought back to a place that held a feeling you’d buried so deep it shouldn’t have surfaced this easily.

It was just a small place you found by accident one lazy evening. But once you fell in love with it, he made it tradition.

Every weekend, like clockwork, he’d take you on a date. And more often than not, you’d ask to come here.

Eventually, the owners knew you by name. Knew your usuals, your laughter, your habits—the shape of your love, even.

And standing there now, with Zayne beside you, the warmth and familiarity turned sharp.

You realized what you’d done.

Who you were with.

And for a moment, regret bloomed in your throat like a bruise.

Were you that ex? The one who dragged new boys through old memories like ghosts on a leash?

No.

Zayne wasn’t your boyfriend. So it didn’t count. It didn’t mean anything.

Right?

You found a table in the corner, far from that quiet little booth tucked near the stage—the one that had soaked in your fights, your laughter, your deepest conversations.

The one that still held all of that messy, complicated love.

Far from the exposed brick wall where you’d once scrawled your initials with the red lipstick you always carried.

His favorite shade.

You still have it in your purse. You never took it out.

Why didn’t you take it out?

The band was bustling, the loud jazz music crashing against your thoughts like waves. You knew Zayne would hate it here—too loud and too cramped for him.

The faint frown tugging at his face confirmed everything you already knew.

You had to order at the bar, and you silently hoped—begged—that he’d take the hint, take the lead.

You just wanted to stay in your seat, stay still; let the noise swallow you whole while you slipped quietly back in time.

Just for a little while.

And he did. Zayne stood with a sigh and made his way to the bar, already checking his watch like he couldn’t wait to leave.

You stayed seated.

Let your eyes wander around the room, soaking in the soft haze of memory like it was smoke in your lungs.

You imagined another version of this moment—one where you weren’t sitting there with someone you knew well, but still felt like a stranger; who held your hand too gently, smiled too politely.

One where the seat across from you was filled with someone who looked at you like you hung the stars, the sun and the moon alike. Who never looked at his watch because time was never wasted with you.

From where you were sitting, you knew the only thing you’d be able to see through the crowds of people at tables was the band and that stupid, beautiful booth.

You couldn’t look at it.

You wouldn’t look at it.

You looked.

Oh.

Oh.

You met his eyes, and the world forgot how to spin.

The air stilled. The conversations and music seemed to pause, a single note stretched out across eternity.

Everything—everyone—stood frozen in place.

Time held its breath.

And for one impossible second, it was just the two of you again.

What was he doing here?

Was the universe playing some cruel trick, drawing you both back to this place like gravity? Why your booth?

Why now?

His eyes scanned your face like he wasn’t sure you were real—like you’d stepped out of a dream.

Then came that smile.

The soft one; the one he used to give you in the quiet, perfect moments when the world was small, just the two of you.

There was no venom in it. No pain. No trace of the wreckage you left in each other.

Just something tender.

As if none of it had happened.

As if you were still okay.

You couldn’t help but smile back.

It was instinct, not decision—like your face moved before your mind could catch up. Like your chest cracked open just wide enough to let the light in.

It felt like winter turning to spring, when everything thaws out and comes alive again. when the frost softens and color creeps quietly back into everything.

Your heart bloomed, slow and trembling—like a flower daring to open again.

He lifts his hand in a wave, mouthing “Hello.” 

“Hi, Sylus.” You mouth back

Your lips felt strange shaping his name. Like they weren’t used to the syllables anymore—like they’d forgotten the rhythm of it, the way it used to sit so easily on your tongue. It felt foreign now, like a word in a language you once knew by heart but hadn’t spoken in years.

Everything started moving again when your drink was sat in front of you. You looked up, and Zayne’s face was tired, pained even.

"Thank you," you murmured, fingers idly twisting the straw. He stayed quiet, as he always did, his gaze fixed on the band, listening to the music, indifferent to you.

You glanced over at the booth again, just to make sure.

And he was gone.

Your heart froze up again, going back to winter. The flower that had started to bloom died in an instant.

Did you just imagine him? He was there in a second, gone the next. 

Was coming to this place such a bad idea that you started hallucinating your ex boyfriend?

Suddenly, the once familiar comfort of this place turned on you, becoming suffocating and unbearable. Heat crawled up the back of your neck, a flush of panic exploding beneath your skin. Every hair on your body stood on end, as if now bracing for something that wasn’t there.

Your chest tightened, breath shallow, the music too loud, the walls too close.

What the hell just happened?

You pushed your food around the plate, appetite long gone, and caught glimpses of Zayne doing the same.

The high had worn off—whatever rush or adrenaline that had carried you through the moment had collapsed in on itself, leaving nothing but a deep, aching hollowness in your chest.

All you wanted was to crawl into bed and fall apart. To let the tears come in the dark, mourning the vision your mind had conjured up like some sick joke.

To sit with the guilt of missing him. Of returning to this place. Of dragging Zayne into the wreckage of your past.

He didn’t know a thing—not really. You never told him. Never told anyone, if you were being honest.

It wasn’t something you ever felt the need to say out loud. You kept it locked away, tucked in a corner of your soul like something sacred and shameful all at once.

But now, sitting here, watching Zayne shrink into his chair, you couldn’t help but feel like you’d tainted him, too. Dragged him into a history he had no business being part of.

Was it you? Or was it this damn bar? Maybe both were cursed. 

You excused yourself to the bathroom, muttering something about needing a moment, but really you just needed to slam your head gently against a stall door and splash cold water over your face. Anything to snap yourself out of whatever spiral this was.

You stood in front of the mirror, blinking hard, like maybe the reflection would shift. That maybe you’d look solid again—real, awake and breathing. But as you smoothed your hair, you really looked. For the first time in what felt like ages.

The circles beneath your eyes were deeper than you remembered, carved in like bruises you forgot to cover. The spark behind those same eyes had vanished, a dull, empty quiet staring back. The color in your cheeks had faded, drained from your skin like it had somewhere better to be.

Where had it gone?

With him.

Your life went with him.

You walked back out to find Zayne at the bar, settling the tab. His expression was unreadable, but it didn’t take much to tell—there wasn’t a smile left in him tonight. His eyes were low, his mouth set in a line.

This was going to be a long ride home.

And it was. Long. Silent. The kind of silence that wasn’t just quiet, but loud in all the wrong ways. The kind that pressed against your ears and made your throat tight. The air in the car felt thick, like you couldn’t swallow a breath. 

Would it have killed him to turn on the radio? Like, just a song? Was he that mad at you for dragging him somewhere out of his comfort zone?

The answer was yes.

“Listen,” Zayne said as the car rolled to a stop in front of your apartment. “Can we talk for a second?”

You knew what was coming.

“Yeah, what’s up?” You replied, turning toward him with a hollowness in your voice. There wasn’t any way this night could get worse.

He let out a breath, one of those slow exhales people do when they’re trying not to make something worse than it already is. His hands fell to his lap, unsure, then found the wheel again.

“You’re great,” he started, eyes fixed somewhere ahead, like looking at you would make it harder. “You’re really sweet. Kind. But I think…” A pause. A swallow.  “I think we’re headed in different directions, two very different people.”

That damn bar.

“Yeah.” You repeat again, hand reaching for the door, “It’s okay. I understand.”

“You’re great though.”

I heard you the first time, you want to say.

Instead you just nod, climbing out of the car and heading inside. 

When you see his car pulling away through the glass of the lobby doors, something inside you gives out. The tears come hot and fast, spilling before you even reach the elevator. You don’t care who sees.

The couple down the hall pauses mid conversation, shifting awkwardly as they juggle grocery bags and avoid your eyes. The old woman waiting by the elevator doesn’t look away—after a second, she rifles through her purse and presses a butterscotch candy into your palm.

You thank her as you both take the elevator up. She doesn’t say a word, just gives you that soft, knowing look only age can shape. The kind that says heartbreak is universal, and survivable.

You’re still crying when you reach your door, fumbling with the keys through blurred vision. The tears come in waves now—messy, relentless—and you’re not even sure what they’re for anymore. It’s like a year’s worth of grief, pressed down and packed tight, finally burst free all at once.

It wasn’t really about Zayne. You’d known for a while you didn’t belong in the future he was building, and he wasn’t ever really yours to begin with. But tonight? Of all nights?

Really, karma? You think, bitterly. Was this supposed to be funny?

When you finally get inside, something feels off. You pause, your hand still on the doorknob. It was light out when you left—had you accidentally turned a light on? You don’t remember doing that. The glow from the kitchen spills out like an omen.

You shut the door slowly, silently, and that’s when you hear it—a shuffle.

Your body locks up. Heart in your throat, you reach for the pepper spray on your keys, hand trembling.

Of course. Of course. Out of all the godforsaken nights for your apartment to get broken into—it had to be tonight. Because why wouldn’t it be. 

What luck!

You catch a quick movement—and without thinking, you lunge, instinct taking over. A desperate swing in self defense. But just as fast, you’re caught. Arms wrap around you, pinning you back against the body of whoever’s in your home.

This is it, you think, panic thundering in your chest. This is how I go. What a night to die.

But then—

“Easy, kitten.”

The world stops. Your entire body goes rigid.

That voice.

That goddamn voice.

A voice you haven’t heard in thirteen months and twenty eight days. Not that you were counting. You tried to stop counting—god, you did—but the days clung to you like dust in sunlight. Every hour ticked by like a relentless grandfather clock, towering in the corner of your mind, never breaking and never missing a chime.

Always ringing.

Always reminding you.

And there it was again. Smooth as velvet, soft like the worn fur of a childhood bear. It wrapped around you with the grasp of memory, gentle and impossible to forget. Like your favorite song buried deep in your mind, untouched for years, and yet the moment it plays—you remember every note, every breath, every rise and fall. 

You don’t know if you want to turn around. There’s a part of you that’s afraid he won’t actually be there, that if you look, you’ll just be staring at an empty room or some figment your mind cooked up to fill the silence—because maybe you’re imagining him again. After the night you’ve had, it wouldn’t be too far off. 

Maybe you’re just tired, emotional, and your brain is pulling memories of your ex out of storage. And honestly, with the way things have gone, that would be exactly your kind of luck.

You’re yanked out of your spiral when he turns you around, slow and careful. And there it is—his face. That same stupidly beautiful, maddeningly familiar face. The one that made you laugh, made you cry. 

Sylus, Sylus, Sylus, Sylus, Sylus.

You don’t know whether to swing at him for breaking into your apartment or hold onto him so tight you melt into his bones—crawl into his skin, make a home in his ribs. Never leave his side again.

He searches your face, stares at you like he’s just as unsure of your existence as you are his. 

You take a step back, putting some space between you, letting your eyes scan him like they might find something new. But he’s the same. Same worn coat, same styled hair he swore looked better like that, same silver “S” hanging from his neck. But his eyes—they match yours, tired and drained. Like everything of the past year sits on his chest, just like it does on yours. And suddenly, he doesn’t look so untouchable anymore. He looks just as haunted.

It’s on you, if you’re being honest. Sure, he said some things that cut deep, and yeah, you were exhausted—mentally and emotionally by that point. But you’re the one who tossed three years away like they didn’t matter. Like they were disposable. One angry moment, one impulsive decision, and it was all over. You didn’t stop to think about what it would do to him—or to you. And when the dust settled, you were too damn proud to go back, to say you messed up, to admit that walking away wasn’t really what you wanted. You both lost something special, because pride got in the way. Because despite all the arguments, he was your person. And you were his.

“I made coffee,” he says, finally breaking the silence.

“At this time of night?” you reply, eyebrows lifting but not really questioning it. 

You can’t find it in you to ask how he got in, or even why he’s here. The words don’t form, caught somewhere between exhaustion and surrender. Tonight has taken too much out of you—emotionally, mentally, physically. You’re too drained to be angry, too hollow to press for answers. And maybe, deep down, you don’t really want to know. Maybe pretending is easier.

Pretending you came home from a hard night, and he was here, waiting for you like he used to. Like nothing ever fell apart between you. Like the months without him hadn’t happened, like the space between you two had never formed in the first place.

You know it's ridiculous. 

Definitely unhealthy. 

But in this moment, you don't care. You're tired—so, so tired—and the comfort of familiarity, even a fractured one, feels like the only thing keeping you upright. Because maybe you're a little crazy. Or maybe you’re just lonely. Maybe you’ve spent so long missing him in silence that your heart doesn’t know how to stop.

The corners of his mouth twitch, like he’s trying to smile but can’t quite get there. And that’s when it hits you—since seeing him today, not once has he worn that usual smug grin he always carried so effortlessly. No teasing, no playful glint in his eye. Just this look, like you’re something out of a dream. Like he’s seeing the most beautiful thing he’s ever laid eyes on, and he doesn’t fully believe it. Like you’re some kind of miracle, and he’s still trying to convince himself you’re really standing there.

You walk past him and into the kitchen, where two mugs sit on the counter. You stop when you notice them—your matching mugs, the ones you picked out during that trip, the ones shaped like a cat and a crow. You remember how you practically screamed when you saw them, all excited like a kid in a candy store. Of course, he bought them for you, because that was just who he was. 

He’d do anything for you.

You don’t know why you’ve kept them, not after everything. But there are certain things, small things, that you can’t bring yourself to let go of. These mugs are one of them. They hold too many memories—too many nights spent tangled in blankets during movie marathons, too many late night conversations at the kitchen table over cups of coffee just like this.

And the moment you take that first sip, you realize—he still knows exactly how you like it.

Sylus leans against the counter, watching you. Analyzing. 

“What’re you thinking about?” You mumble over the rim of your mug. He raises an eyebrow in surprise before standing up straight, rolling his shoulders back as if he's gathering the confidence to speak his mind. It’s strange to see Sylus like this—like he has to work up the courage to say something, something you’ve never seen him do before.

"Who was the guy you were with tonight?" He takes a drink. 

You scoff. "Sylus, be for real."

"Is he your boyfriend?" He sets his mug down a bit too forcefully.

"You really broke into my apartment over a guy?"

"I asked you a question first, sweetie."

"Fine." You roll your eyes, setting your mug down and crossing your arms. "No, he's not my boyfriend. Well, kind of. But whatever he was, he’s not anymore." You let out a bitter laugh, shaking your head at the irony. "Actually, he ended it outside."

"Is that why you were crying?" Sylus’s expression hardens, and you regret your choice of words for Zayne’s safety.

Sighing, you shrug, not really sure how to answer that. “No, I think that was just the straw that broke the camel's back.”

"Do you... want to talk about it?"

He was never great at comforting people, but Sylus was one of the most caring and empathetic people you’d ever known. He just wasn’t always good at showing it.

"I don’t know." You avoid his gaze, fingers tracing the rim of your mug. "I went to the bar tonight because I wanted to feel something. Feel a part of you again. And I don't think I realized just how much I missed you."

You surprised yourself with how easily the truth spilled out, after all this time. But that was always the way with him—honesty never felt like work. It came naturally, like breathing. You used to hate that about him, about what he brought out in you. Because maybe if you'd kept more to yourself, held your tongue a little tighter, you wouldn’t have fought so much. Maybe silence would’ve saved you both some hurt.

"Seeing you again brought everything back, and it was just a lot all at once. Then I got dumped after all of that. Kind of felt shitty."

You were ready for him to bite back, make a remark that would start a fight. Say something about how all of this was your fault anyways. Ignite the flame. 

Honestly, you kind of wanted him to. Wanted to feel some sort of sick piece of your previous life together.

But he didn’t. Just pressed his lips into a line while he paused to think. 

“I’m sorry.”

The apology felt foreign, strange even, coming from him. He was never one to admit he was wrong, and for a moment, you wondered if this was one of the rare times you’d ever hear him say he was sorry.

“For... what?" Confusion flickered across your face. It was painfully clear for once he wasn’t the one in the wrong here.

"I'm sorry things ended that way."

You weren't sure if he was talking about the night or the entire relationship, but as you looked at him, sincerity in your eyes, you whispered, "I'm sorry that it ended at all."

Sylus finally smiled—really smiled—the kind of grin that cracked through the solemn silence like sunlight after a storm. Like he’d been holding his breath this entire time, just waiting for you to say those words.

You lifted your hand, stopping him before the moment could get ahead of you. “The fight we had was stupid. And breaking up? That was impulsive. Irrational.” Your voice wavered. “And maybe... maybe you were right. Maybe I do just overreact.”

“No.” he said, already making his way to where you sat, each step careful, like approaching a wild thing.

“No?” you echo, blinking up at him.

“No,” he says again. “You were hurting. And I didn’t see it. That’s on me too.”

He kneels beside your chair, resting his hands on your knees like he used to when he had something serious to say. His eyes search yours, looking for anything and everything.

“I should’ve asked you what was wrong instead of trying to fix you like you were some project. I didn’t know how to handle you—us sometimes. But I never stopped—” His voice catches for a quick second. 

Sylus swallows hard, eyes glancing to the floor. “I never stopped thinking about you. Missing you. Hoping you were okay.”

You stare at him, heart tight in your chest. You want to say something but your throat burns with unshed tears, eyes stinging and cheeks hot.

He lifts his hand, hesitant, brushing his fingers just barely against yours. “I don’t want to keep pretending like losing you didn’t tear something out of me.”

You don’t even realize your hand is moving until it’s already holding his. It fits the same way it always did—like nothing had changed, and everything had.

“Then don’t,” you whisper.

He presses a kiss to each of your fingers, then lingers at the inside of your wrist like he’s afraid to let go. 

“Come back to me, sweetie. Please.”

You lower yourself to the floor beside him, knees brushing the cold tile as you refuse to let him bear the weight of this alone. He didn’t belong down there—not without you. If blame was to be shared, so was the burden. You had always been equals, and you’d meet him where he was, just like always.

Gently, you take his face in your hands, cradling it like something fragile. Your thumbs brush over his cheeks as you tilt his head from side to side, memorizing the features you never truly forgot.

He’s Sylus. He’s home. He’s your heart and soul.

“I never really left,” you whisper.

Sylus leans in, slowly and carefully—just enough for his nose to brush again yours, a quiet question hanging in the air between you. Not demanding, just hoping and waiting.

You close the space with a kiss, gentle and unsure at first, like trying on a memory. But the moment your lips meet, it all comes rushing back—how seamlessly you fit. Like you were made with the shape of him in mind.

His hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck, tentative at first, then grounding. The kiss deepens just a little, and it’s not desperate. It’s not about lust. It’s about grief and forgiveness, about missing someone so deeply that your soul aches and yearns to touch theirs again.

Yeah, that doesn’t last long.

You don’t know who moves first. Maybe it’s him. Maybe it’s you. But suddenly your hands are tangled in his shirt, pulling him closer like the space between you is unbearable. Like air doesn’t matter if he isn’t in it.

His lips crash back into yours with more urgency this time—less hesitation, more ache. It’s not soft anymore. It’s desperate. Months of wanting, of regret, of missing, all boiling to the surface and spilling out through every touch, every kiss, every small gasp between breaths.

Sylus groans against your lips, his hands everywhere at once—your hips, your back, your jaw—as though he can’t decide what to touch first, only that he has to. Your fingers slide under his shirt, palms skimming fever warm skin, and he shudders like the contact burns. He decides on one hand sliding up your back, the other buried in your hair as if to anchor himself there. You let him. You want him to. You want to feel all of it—everything you’ve been pushing down since the moment he got dragged out of that door a year ago.

When he pulls you into his lap, it’s not gentle. It’s a need—as if not having you near him physically hurts. 

At least, it hurts you.

Your thighs cradle his like instinct, and your bodies slot together like they never really stopped belonging to each other. Like you’re two atoms destined to combine.

The kiss deepens, grows messier—teeth and tongue clashing. Breath shared like oxygen. You’re not even kissing anymore, not really. You’re devouring, rediscovering. Worshipping with your mouths. He breaks only to gasp, to mutter your name like hes singing a psalm, saying a prayer, like he’s drowning in the taste of you.

“You didn’t waste any time,” you pant, lips swollen, eyes glazed.

He grins against your mouth, finally giving you that signature, smug smirk he wears so damn well. “I’ve had thirteen months and twenty eight days to starve, kitten.”

Your laugh is breathless, and it breaks against him as your hips roll forward just once. He chokes on a gasp and grips you harder, his mouth trailing along your jaw, down your throat, dragging teeth and tongue and heat as he goes.

Clothes shift. Shirts inch upward, skin revealed in patches, in hurried grazes of fingers that tremble with the weight of too much time passed. You could cry from the way he touches you—like he’s both reverent and ravenous. Like he’s afraid you’ll vanish again if he blinks.

Sylus.

Sylus.

Sylus.

“I missed you,” he says, and the words hit you like a lightning strike—hot and electric. It’s enough to draw a sound from your throat, a soft whimper at how deeply you feel it, in your heart and your core. Like music played in a key only your body recognizes, a melody you’ve been yearning to hear.

Because he wanted you all this time as badly as you wanted him.

No, he needed you. And hearing it now, in that voice, in this moment, feels like being set free.

Set free from all of that guilt and pain that’s been haunting you like a vice.

You cup his face again, thumbs sweeping over skin you used to call home. The skin you’ll call home once again. “Then take me back,” you whisper, forehead pressed to his. “Right here. However you need.”

He doesn’t answer.

You don’t remember standing—you don’t think you did. All you know is the feel of Sylus’ arms wrapped around you; he carries you down the hallway like muscle memory, navigating your space with the ease of someone who never truly left. And in that moment, all you can think is, ‘please don’t leave again.’

He’s on you again before you can exhale—lips crashing to yours like he’s been waiting to breathe, to feel, since the moment you left. Since that moment the cops had to practically drag him out of your front door.

It’s desperate, disheveled, the kind of hunger that comes from months of lonely nights and phantom memories traced on cold sheets. Nights where you buried your face in the pillow that still held the faint shape of where he used to sleep, moaning into the echo of him, aching and wet for the hands that weren’t there.

And now, they were.

You backpedal until the backs of your knees hit the bed, and he follows you down with a gentleness that betrays the way his hands feel when they touch your skin. You fall together, mouths never parting, tangled limbs pressed into the mattress that hasn’t known this kind of weight in far too long.

Your shirt peels away, slow and careful. As if he’s trying to savor every second, like this will never happen again. 

It will—it has to. You may die if you have to go through separation again.

He stares at you like he’s seen heaven and hell and finally made it back to the beginning. “You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he says, voice ragged. He’s barely holding himself together, a fierceness in his eyes that makes you think he may eat you alive.

You hope he does.

You reach up, fingers threading through his hair, pulling him back down to you with need. “Then stop looking,” you mutter against his lips. “Start remembering.”

Clothes come off in stuttered gasps—half laughed, half moaned—as if each layer is a wall you’re tearing down together. Skin meets skin, the kind of touch that makes you feel tethered again. Anchored to something. 

Someone.

Sylus’ mouth traces a path along your collarbone, down the hollow of your throat, over the curve of your ribs. He bites, he sucks, leaving behind a pattern of bruises and blooming marks—claiming you in color. Like jewelry only he could give you, like tattoos etched in heat that say, without words, mine. You arch into him, a whimper escaping you, and he groans in response—low and guttural.

He sinks between your thighs like a man starved returning to his favorite meal, settling into the place he’s always called home. A low, satisfied sigh escapes him—as if the world’s weight has finally lifted now that he’s right where he belongs. His hands grip your hips like an anchor, grounding himself in your heat, in you. 

He trails open mouthed kisses along the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, nipping at the tender flesh as a warning when you push towards his face.

When he finally buries himself in the place you’ve ached for most, it’s not gentle—it’s ravenous. He devours you like he’s been starving, like every second apart built up into this fevered need to taste and claim. His tongue moves with purpose—etching your name in cursive, apologies, confessing I love you in strokes and swirls only your body can understand.

You’re flushed, burning from the inside out, your skin damp and glowing like firelight. It’s heaven, you’re sure of it—though the way Sylus tears into you with sinful devotion, he might just be a demon sent to drag pleasure out of you until you forget your own name.

But don’t worry, he’ll spell it back out for you. Again, and again, and again.

Your moans pour from your lips, unrestrained and embarrassingly loud, the room echoing with every gasp and whimper. But you’re desperate, and past caring. It’s been too long. You missed this—missed him—the way Sylus touches you like he was made to, the way he knows your body better than you ever could. Missed the way he always, always finds his way back to you.

You haven’t felt this good in ages.

It doesn’t take long—your body coils tight, then shatters, release crashing over you like a tidal wave. Your vision whites out, ears ringing with the force of it. You try to push him away, trembling hands lost in his hair, but he just smirks against your skin like the devil he is.

“One more?” he murmurs, low and wicked. It’s shaped like a question, but you both know it isn’t. It’s a promise. A command. A sentence you’re more than willing to serve.

His arms tighten around your thighs as he drags you back to him, wearing your legs like a crown, worshipping you like a man possessed. His mouth doesn’t stop—it never stops—and you break apart again, undone and helpless beneath the weight of his hunger.

You cry out his name, babbling through the overstimulation, letting the walls shake with the sound of it. Let the neighbors hear. Let the world know. You’re his—you’ve always been. And now, with his mouth rewriting every nerve in your body, you know you’ll never be anything else.

When he finally pulls back, your body is trembling, skin electric. It’s like the universe was reborn beneath your skin—like some celestial detonation bloomed inside you and scattered your bones into stardust. Every nerve feels like it’s glowing, every inch of you humming with aftershocks, like you’ve been rewritten molecule by molecule in his name.

You’re not sure if you're floating or falling, only that Sylus is your anchor in a sky full of stars he put there.

He moves back up your body slowly, this time trailing kisses along your skin like he’s putting you back together with his mouth. When he reaches your lips, he kisses you gently—like you’re something fragile and precious.

In his eyes, you are.

There’s nothing rushed now. The hunger’s still there, sure—it burns under the surface like wildfire—but it’s laced with something softer, sadder. Like you’re making up for lost time. For all the nights you didn’t have this. All the apologies neither of you knew how to give until now.

Your chest is still rising and falling, breath uneven from the waves that just crashed over you, when he finally presses against you—trembling with restraint. His hand finds your chin, tilting your face toward his. He searches your eyes, desperately looking for anything that says no, anything that tells him to stop. There’s fear in his gaze, quiet and vulnerable—terrified this might be too good to be real.

You don’t speak. You don’t need to.

Instead, you nod, certain, and push your hips toward his like an answer he’s been begging for. Gently, you press a kiss to his forehead.

And when he finally sinks into you—not just physically but emotionally—it’s not about sex. It’s about return. 

Reunion. 

The sacred act of becoming known again, flesh and heart and harmony folding back into one another.

You cling to him like you might fall apart otherwise. He holds you like he’s scared you already have.

Your head tips back with a moan, mouth parted as pleasure ripples through you. He presses a kiss just beneath your ear tenderly, like he’s trying to keep you from floating too far away. “Stay with me, sweetie.”

As if you could be anywhere else.

His movements are slow—painfully slow—the kind of rhythm that feels like he’s savoring every second, every inch of you. He’s chasing something deeper than pleasure—he’s trying to feel all of you, to touch the parts of you he lost when you walked away. But even then, it’s not enough. God, it’s never enough.

You meet him halfway, hips rising to meet his, your body pleading before your voice even does.

“Sylus, please,” you whimper, voice cracking.

One of his hands slides down, gripping your hip harder, pulling you to him. “Tell me what you need,” he rasps, leaning in until his forehead pressed against yours. “Say it, sweetie. I’ll give you everything.”

And you know he would. You could ask for a kiss, a kingdom, his last breath—he’d give it without hesitation. He’d peel the stars from the sky just to light your way home. He’d carve out his heart, wrap it in gold leaf, and place it on a priceless platter if it meant seeing you smile.

Sylus made you greedy—gave you a gold thumb. He spoiled you without hesitation, fed your hunger. And he reveled in it. Got off on the way you used him, adored how you took and took, because giving to you was the only thing that ever felt right.

Your fingers thread through his hair like you’re spinning silk, tugging at the silver strands. You press open mouthed kisses along his jaw, his cheek—anything you can reach while writhing beneath the weight of him. “Quit going so slow,” you whisper, breath hitching with every drag of his hips, “you’re gonna kill me.”

You knew exactly what you were signing up for the moment he chuckled against your lips—low, dark, dangerous. He shifted you easily, legs hooked tight around his waist. Then, with a teasing snap of his hips, he drove forward, and the sharp gasp that tore from your throat was instant, involuntary.

You barely had time to say his name before his arms locked around your body—thrusting into you with a punishing rhythm, fast and merciless. It felt like he was trying to brand you from the inside out, like he was trying to replace every cell in your body with the shape of him.

If this was how you died, gasping his name, your body split open with pleasure and your heart cracked wide, then so be it. There was no holier death than this—than being completely, utterly taken by the man you loved.

His hands gripped you hard enough to bruise, fingers digging in like he couldn’t bear the thought of ever letting go. And you clawed your nails down his back until you were sure you’d drawn blood—your bodies leaving marks like they were writing poems on each other’s skin.

It wouldn’t be the first time you two had broken a bed—and at this rate, it wouldn’t be the last. Not that he cared. He’d buy you a hundred more without blinking. Hell, he’d buy you a house just to ruin every room in it. He’ll put a baby in you right now to turn that house into a home, just to make sure you never even think about leaving him again.

Sylus groaned your name like it was the only thing keeping him alive. And you? You could only hold on, begging for more through breathless moans, because you knew—no one would ever fuck you like he did.

With every thrust, he drove you deeper into the mattress, your fingers twisting in his hair. You could feel the tears streaking your cheeks, not from pain, but from the sheer overwhelming rush of it all—of him, of pleasure. It was too much and not enough all at once. You’d never felt so full. So wanted. So his.

Your mascara was probably a mess, your lips swollen from kissing and your heart aching from the way he looked at you—like you were the only thing that had ever mattered.

“Sylus,” you gasped, barely able to breathe through it. “Oh, fuck—”

You were close, clinging to him like your body knew this was it. That after all the nights apart, all the words left unsaid, this was where you were meant to be.

His pace faltered for just a moment, a soft hiss through his teeth as you tightened around him. He buried his face in the crook of your neck, breath hot and shaky. You felt him everywhere—his hands, his heart, his love.

You shattered around him, sobbing as your climax overtook you, nearly screaming. It wasn’t just pleasure. It was months of longing, of everything you’d buried now clawing its way to the surface.

All you could think about was him.

His name, carved into your mind like scripture.

His eyes, the way they always burned through you, even when he tried to hide it.

That damned smirk—infuriating and addictive.

The scent of his cologne clinging to your sheets, haunting you even after he left.

His old jacket, the one you swore you hated but wore every chance you got.

The booth in the back corner of the bar where he first kissed you like he meant it.

Everything about him hit you at once—your body, your mind, your heart. Like coming home after wandering lost for far too long.

He followed suit, pulling you so close you half expected to disappear into him entirely. Like your skin was made for his and your bones had always bent to make room for him; as if you were his lifeline—and if that were true, he’d never sign a DNR. He’d beg the universe to keep you beating.

He clung to you like salvation, chanting your name between breathless gasps like a mantra. You were his altar, his ritual, his divine obsession.

His hips finally stilled, buried so deep inside you it felt like you’d been stitched together. His breath was shaky, chest rising and falling against yours, sweat slick skin pressing close as your hearts raced in unison.

And then he kissed you—the kind of kiss meant to seal a vow. It was quiet, sweet, full of all the things he didn’t know how to say.

I love you. I’m sorry. I’m yours.

So you say it—for the first time in thirteen months and twenty eight days.

“I love you.”

It slips out as a whisper, your voice rough, frayed at the edges. But there’s no hesitation in it. No fear. It’s the most certain thing you’ve ever said in your life.

Sylus freezes, eyes locked on yours, like those three words shattered and rebuilt him in real time. And then he exhales, relieved.

His hand cups your cheek, thumb brushing along your jaw. “Say it again,” he murmurs, almost afraid it was a fluke. A dream he’d blink and lose.

You smile, “I love you.” And this time it’s louder. Stronger.

“I love you too.”

He says it like a vow, a promise, then begins to pepper kisses across your face—each one a quiet apology for every day he went without touching you. Each one a reminder: I’m here. I’m back. I never stopped loving you.

You start to drift, the weight of the night settling into your bones, your body warm and sore and sated. Sleep tugs at you gently. But then Sylus nips playfully at your cheek, and his voice, low and teasing, curls against your ear. “Not yet, sweetie. Let me get you cleaned up.”

You groan, burying your face in the pillow. “No, I’ll shower in the morning.”

But you don’t stop him when he pulls away, don’t open your eyes as he disappears briefly and returns with a warm cloth, gentle as ever. He moves with care, cleaning both of you in the quiet hush of the room.

When he’s done, you reach out, fingers circling his wrist like you’re afraid he’ll vanish if you don’t. “Don’t go,” you murmur, barely above a breath. “Stay here.”

Sylus leans in and presses a kiss to your forehead, that soft smile tugging at his lips—the one he only ever wore for you. “Where else would I go,” he whispers, “if not here with you?”

He climbs back into bed and pulls you into his arms like you’re the most precious thing he’s ever held. His fingers slide into your hair, cradling the back of your head, guiding you to rest against his chest. You breathe him in, his scent, his warmth, the steady rhythm of his heart under your ear—home, in every way that matters.

Sleep comes easy like that, safe in his arms, as if nothing could ever take him away again.

─ ⊹ ⊱ ☆ ⊰ ⊹ ─

The next morning, you woke up to an empty bed, and your stomach dropped. For a second, it felt like none of it had happened. Like you'd imagined it all in some sleep deprived dream.

You thought you were going to have to call a therapist for psychosis.

But then you noticed the dent in the pillow beside you. The sheets were still messy, warm where he’d been. And then you heard it—the faint sound of something clinking in the kitchen.

He hadn’t left.

You lay back against the pillow, staring up at the ceiling, heart slowly steadying. He was still here. After everything, he was still here.

It was strange how easy it felt, slipping back into something that used to be second nature. The routine. The comfort. The quiet knowing that someone else was there. It didn’t feel forced or awkward. 

It just was.

And maybe that said something. Maybe that was enough proof that this wasn’t a mistake. That loving each other had never been the problem. That the space between then and now hadn’t broken anything that couldn’t be fixed.

After one night, it was like everything was finding its place again.

You crawl out of bed and grab the shirt he left on the floor—It smells like him, that familiar mix of expensive cologne and soap that always lingered on your skin long after he was gone. 

The apartment smells like coffee and something frying. You can already guess what it is. He never cooked with precision—just intention. Eggs were his go to, even if they were usually either barely set or borderline burnt. But he tried. He always did.

You pad quietly down the hallway and stop in the kitchen doorway. He doesn’t notice you right away—he’s too focused, standing at the stove with his back to you. Shirtless, muscles shifting with every little movement. He’s wearing those pajama pants. His pajama pants. The ones you stole and swore you’d thrown out during some emotional cleanse, only to find them months later shoved behind your laundry basket. You never brought yourself to toss them again.

They hang low on his hips now, like they never left.

You lean against the doorframe, just watching him for a second. Listening to the sound of him cook, the birds chirping with the morning sun outside, and the peaceful quiet that this life brought you. 

It was home again.

“Like what you see?” Sylus says without turning around. You’re not sure how long he’s known you were standing there, but then again, he always knew. Could feel you without looking—like you were some extension of him, stitched into the same thread.

You walk up behind him and slip your arms around his waist, pressing your cheek to the warm skin between his shoulder blades. “Maybe.”

He chuckles low in his chest, then reaches forward to turn off the stove. In one fluid motion, he spins in your hold, facing you. That smug grin is already there, the one you used to pretend annoyed you. His eyes sweep over you, stopping at the oversized shirt you’re swimming in.

You glance over at the table. The same old mugs. A bowl of fruit. Two plates—simple, a little uneven, but made with care.

“You didn’t have a lot to work with, kitten,” he adds, brushing a piece of hair from your face, “Someone hasn’t been buying groceries.”

You kiss his jaw, lazy and slow, still waking up. “Doesn’t matter. You showed up. That’s enough.”

“Then sit.”

You snort, let him guide you to the table, and as you sit, you watch him pour your coffee the way you like it—still remembering. Still yours.

You two sit in silence—soft, easy. The fruit’s a little mushy, the eggs slightly too done, but not enough to matter. Sylus sits across from you, half smiling, half watching.

‘This is it’, you think. ‘This is the life.’

You think, for a moment, that maybe you should ask him how he’s been. Catch up like normal people. Trade stories from the months apart—what he’s done, what he’s seen, what you missed between the snapshots friends posted with him barely in the frame.

But only one question makes it past the swirl in your chest.

“Sylus,” you say, folding your arms and leaning over the table, eyes narrowing. He mirrors you, brow lifting in challenge. “Yes?”

“How the hell did you get into my apartment?”

He laughs—loud and unbothered. He juts his chin toward the counter where, sure enough, a single key lies.

“I still have that,” he says, far too smug.

You gasp, lurching forward to swat his shoulder. “Why didn’t you give that back?”

“You never asked for it, sweetie.” He shrugs, leaning in like he’s telling a secret. “Besides… I figured it might come in handy one day.”

“You’re unbelievable.”

“Mm,” he hums, biting into a slice of melon. “And yet, here I am. Still your favorite bad decision.”

You scoff, sipping your coffee to cover your laugh. And maybe he is. Maybe he always has been.

But as you sit there with him, sunlight pouring in and the scent of overcooked eggs lingering in the air, it will never feel like a mistake at all.

[karmacharmeleon18]

I need more of your thoughts on the prequel and sequel 👀👀 please yap away my friend

LMAO and yap away I will!

I'm always excited for sequels, especially because there's SO MUCH we've yet to see about the Moriyamas!!! I need those bitches vanquished, seriously it's not a want, it's a need, and there's simply not enough time left for it in Jean's trilogy

I still think one book might not be enough??? But Nora was clear that #2 Kevin Day only needs 2 books... and since one is a prequel, we are left with only one sequel

I guess TSC3 will set things into motion and they'll be finalized in TQG?

Even if it's just one standalone sequel, I think it's a good idea to have if from Kevin's POV because he has insights on that family no one else has

I really, truly HOPE/WISH/NEED Nora is going in that direction, the "let's take down the Moriyamas" route, and Kevin can reasonably be the key to that

So I'm excited and I would be SUPER disappointed if nothing major happened in that regard

I just see no point in making one standalone sequel from Kevin's POV unless we see the fall of the Moriyamas, you know??? Like, what's the point otherwise?

Nora said she had originally planned a #4 AFTG book from Neil's perspective, about the new freshmen, the game against the dismantled and crumbling Ravens, etc. but then she realized it wasn't needed, there wasn't enough plot for a whole book: the Foxes' story was over

So if we're getting a sequel from a current Fox, there must be a specific reason why

(🤞🏾🤞🏾🤞🏾 PLEASE NORA PLEASE LET THERE BE A REASON 🤞🏾🤞🏾🤞🏾)

If it was a trilogy, I could understand, it means Nora just wants to analyze Kevin's character and give him an arc of some kind; maybe a trilogy set at the same time as AFTG, giving us Kevin's perspective of canon events? Or a sequel trilogy showing how Kevin handles being in the world on his own after graduation? An ex Raven, former Fox, dealing with the real world? Both could work

But a single sequel?

Set right after TSC where criminal trials and Testuji's role are still up in the air?

Titled The Queen's Game?

Come on, the Moriyamas are getting what they deserve, right?

RIGHT?

I really hope/think Nora will use this one sequel book to tie up all the loose ends TSC3 will inevitably leave us with, because there's just not enough time to resolve everything in a trilogy finale

So I'm excited and hopeful and would be EXTREMELY disappointed if we got nothing, no justice, no freedom for our Foxes and Trojans

It would make no sense to me

Like, for example, I'm not particularly interested in reading a book about Kevin joining the Houston Sirens, aka Thea's team, and see their relationship develop. Nora recently made a post trying to "redeem" Thea to an extent, where she acknowledged that canon!Thea did not leave a good impression (but then she makes it all even worse in TSC? Nora, what are you doing?), but I'm just not interested in a KevThea book 🤷🏾‍♀️

It has to be something else

One book... The Queen's Game... The Moriyamas are getting 🔪

That's the only thing that makes sense to me 😭😭

Now...

About the prequel...

I'm terrified.

Like, I straight up don't know if I'll read it.

I'll most likely wait until my friends finish it and can give me a trigger warning list lol (laughing not to cry)

Because Nora undeniably has a fixation, even a fetish, for torture, sexual assault, violence in general

And the only thing worse than a story set in the mind of someone who survived the Nest and is out of it now (Jean, Neil in part) is reading a story SET IN THE NEST

Even if it's from Kevin's POV and he was never assaulted

I just don't trust Nora to be respectful and realistic when it comes to portraying abuse in a cult. She loves exaggerating the violence, in a way that can be triggering for anyone. So I don't know what I'll do.

One thing I'll say tho, it's that Kevin's POV is needed at this point

In 2024 Nora shared her list of favorite Foxes in order and it goes: Neil, Andrew, Kevin (etc.etc.)

And in the tags she said:

WELL NORA TSC AND TGR DIDN'T HELP!!!!

Now we dislike Kevin even more 😭

Because what do you mean he knew Jean was being raped? What do you mean he shrugs it off? What do you mean he was never raped because "they had no reason", implying that Jean gave them a reason to do that, brought it upon himself 🤢?

What do you mean he is the exact same type of arrogant, bossy hypocrite with Jean he is with the Foxes?

You really thought Jean and Jeremy's perspective of him would make us like him more??? And makes us think that you love Kevin???

In what universe?? 😭

A "non-Fox perspective of him" made Kevin look even worse

She really thought TSC would make us see Kevin in a more positive, kinder light???? (same for Thea)

So yeah, if she wants to redeem Kevin, his POV is absolutely needed at this point

Show us Kevin's humanity, his insecurity, his loneliness, make us relate to him, in a way that goes beyond the cowardice and hypocrisy shown in AFTG and TSC

(though considering Nora's track record, she could have Kevin fully say "Jean deserved it" and then be all *shocked Pikachu face* when people still hate him 🙄)

Now, what could The Perfect Court be about?

Riko, obviously

But when?

Are we getting the Riko-Kevin backstory? How they met, grew up together, joined the Nest and survived Tetsuji's abuse by clinging to each other?

How Jean disrupted the fragile balance they had found, how Riko descended into madness once given absolute power over another human?

Is it going to end with Riko shattering Kevin's hand, the ultimate act of fraternal betrayal?

And then fade to black, and the rest is history?

... or is it going to start with Riko breaking Kevin's hand?

Is the whole book going to be about Kevin knocking on Waymack's - his father's - door and joining the Foxes? So a direct prequel to AFTG? With lots of flashbacks about the Nest and Riko's Perfect Court delusions?

Or a mix of both? The first half is Kevin-Riko in the Nest, the second half is the fallout?

I don't know. But I know it's going to be graphic. And I don't think I'm ready

But for the sequel, I am SAT

[screampied]

❛ PHEREMOANED ?! ❜ t. fushiguro

☆ sum. after three long years in the slammer, toji returns home to you—his pretty sweet fiancé. to surprise him, you decided to spray on your new expensive pheromone perfume. was it the best idea? probably not. you wanted to tease him, not make him feral.

warnings. fem! reader, ex-convict toji, pwp, feral toji, scent kink, unprotected, manhandling, size kink, cúnnilingus (he eats it from the back), toji has a tongue piercing, brēeding, marathon séx, choking, spít, impact play, hair pulling, overstim, tummy bulges, overstim.

wc. 6.2k

toji fushiguro never knew how to stay out of trouble—he had a temper and that wasn’t really a surprise.

he’s lucky he got released early on good behavior. three years, one thousand and ninety-five days, twenty six thousand hours and thirty six months spent apart from him. regardless though, you were patient—making sure to visit him during visiting hours and all. but the day he gets released, you get an idea. scrolling online, you read an article about pheromone perfume and skimmed across some pretty eye-catching stories. you ordered it about two weeks prior, waiting for his release to actually try it. spritzing a few good sprays on yourself, you wait by the front door where one of his friends, presumably shiu was dropping him off at.

creaaaak, the wooden door opens and there stands toji. he’s still in his orange jumpsuit, tresses of shaggy sable bangs brushing down his eyes, briefly occluding his vision. “hey, girl,” he gruffs, catching you in his arms once you tackle him into a hug. his big big arms cage you in before he kisses the top of your head. “missed y-”

toji pauses, and you let off a gasp once he abruptly digs his face inside the crook of your neck. “hn. . new perfume, baby?” good, so it really does work. his scarred hands rest toward your hips before he starts to sniff all down your neck, groaning against your skin.

“y- yeah,” you stammer, feeling his hands grip against your blouse. “you like? it was on sale.”

“i love it but it’s damn strong,” he murmurs, and out of nowhere—he lifts you up, tossing you over his shoulder. a giggle nearly leaves from your lips as he starts to trod toward the bedroom, loud boots clanking against the marble-made floor. “did you spray it between your legs too? fuck, you’re just asking to be ruined tonight, baby.”

well shit.

everything happens so fast,

one second you’re hugging your fiancé who just got released from prison and the next, he’s tossing you on the bed, making you spread your legs.

you’ve seen a lot of different faces of toji but this, this was entirely new. he’s got the type of look in his eyes where he wants something and he won’t hesitate to take it . . even if that something is you.

seeing you like this, sprawled all out on the bed with that cute perplexed expression of yours, fuck.

three years. three years without any kinds of physical contact he had to endure, and with the addition of your new pheromone perfume. perhaps you had some kind of death wish.

“spread ‘em,” he huffs, clicking his tongue. toji’s eyes were already hooded and half-lidded. he’s panting already and he’s not even looking at you.

just from staring between your legs, he could almost taste you on his tongue - his tastebuds were already salivating at the carnal thought. toji’s verdant dim eyes stare straight between your legs, right near the very crevices. “wait, no,” and you gasp again once he flips you over, making you flop down on your chest. “ass up baby. i don’t wanna look at you right now. wanna look at her.”

his hands were so hot, quite literally.

his bare palms had all kinds of scars painted near the centers with such rough texture as he feels against your ass. you try to suppress an incoming moan as your back willingly arches forward. your cheek’s being smushed against the silky red cover of your own pillow before he leans in.

toji’s wetly kisses against your ass cheek, nearly ripping your skirt in two. “mhm,” he groans, and even now, he’s still smelling you. your legs start to shake and quiver once he’s smelling every part of your thighs. toji drags his nose up and down, he’s making sure he can take in all of your perfume, he even licks down your legs. you’ve seen him feral before but never like this. his palm continues to rub against your skin before the button tip of his nose reaches toward your panties. “fuck, don’t know how much i missed you, princess.”

“t- toji,” you whine through gritted teeth, and he’s flicking his tongue against the lace pad of your panties. your smell, it was so good - he just couldn’t get enough.

it scratched a obscene itch in his brain, making him so aroused—so much so that you weren’t helping the strain in his jumpsuit sweats at all. toji’s boner was almost painful, it prods against the thin fabric of his jumpsuit and your scent only made his throbbing so much worse.

his hair tickles against the corners of your thighs as you feel his warm breath ghost against your sopping entrance. oh, right. you were kind of sort of a bit drenched—you had played with yourself out of pure boredom. you failed to make yourself finish but he didn’t have to know that.

toji noticed right away and he raises a brow, two pinching fingers pulling your panties to the side. “she’s soaked,” he utters in a low voice—he sounds almost offended. “wonder why that is.”

you let off a broken moan once he peels your panties to the side with just his teeth, dragging a fat swollen thumb right down your drooling slit. “fuckk, smell so good baby but i bet you taste even better.”

and within seconds, his tongue delves right between your legs. once he starts—there’s no prying him off. whenever it was pussy involved, toji was an animal.

he could eat you out for hours, no breaks, not caring at all if his jaw locks and tightens. he ate you out as if it wants some sort of competition, and he’d always get a gold medal. every single time. .

you’re facing the opposite way while he’s eating you from behind, two open palms squeezing against both soft cheeks of your ass. the tiny ball of his piercing gradually flicks against your clit and you nearly let off a shriek. the stimulation has you gasping for air and it felt so good—you’ve never felt more sensitive.

toji spreads your ass wider, dipping his lengthy wet tongue in and out before spitting down your entrance. “ptf,” and it’s a glossy slimy trail that dribbles straight down the cracked slope of your ass before oozing near your puffy pussy. it’s so sloppy, he laps it right up before spitting on it again and again.

toji hasn’t tasted you in forever, three years felt like forever and he wanted to make sure he’d make up for lost time - with his tongue.

“mhm, keep squirmin’ doll, see where it gets ya,” he’d gruff in a husky tone, feeling your entire body starting to writhe and shudder all from his mouth.

despite his jaw already locking—his face was flushed and tears of sweat sprayed against his forehead. even still, the dark haired man showed no signs of fatigue. you just tasted so sweet, and your loud pheromonal smell made things worse.

you slouch back against the cushioned mattress, peering behind you to see him sloppily give your pulsating cunt three second slurps. fuck, his tongue. it was so long.

you felt every extending inch of it trace and curl all throughout the swollen walls of your pussy. he had to make sure your pretty pussy remembered who it belonged to. his rosy pink tip swirls around and around, side to side, up and down—he makes it toy in every witch direction. toji then starts to merrily spell out the thirteen notorious letters of his name over and over.

t - o - j - i - f - u - s - h - i - g - u - r - o.

once his tongue curls in such a slick spiraling manner, your tummy heaves once he spells out the letter ‘s’ with his tongue. it twirls from up to down, and he even grumbles out the letters under his breath in that low, raspy voice.

two big hands cling onto your rickety thighs before he spanks your ass once he sees you trying to reach down between your thighs to touch yourself. “watch it, little girl,” he snarls, the sudden pitchy tone in his rough voice making you throb right on his tongue. he’s practically making out with your cunt now, french kissing your slobbering entrance. toji’s just casually nose deep, taking every few seconds to smell against your clit. “she’s mine.”

“tojiiii—” you moan, continuing to rock your unsteady hips back into his face. toji’s patchy stubble rubs all over against your skin until it’s just profusely dripping from your slick juices.

the scar that runs down the right side of his lip smears against you also. it feels so rough as it scraps against your folds. your pussy twitches as he starts to drag his face back and forth against your slick and you gasp once his tongue slides further up.

up, up, up until it reaches there.

“ah, now what do we got ourselves here,” he whispers, and you moan once he plugs a fat thumb against your puckering hole.

your teeth dig into the cottony fluff of the pillow that’s sat right in front of you. toji’s thumb, he circles it around before lolling out his tongue. even though you’re not directly facing him, you can just hear how wet it is—how wet you are.

you’re squelching so loud that it bounces off the walls, ricocheting against every peeling corner.

the syrupy saliva that departs and smacks from his lips once he open his mouth. “god, ‘yer fuckin’ wet, baby. just for me,” he murmurs, and he creates a long slippery slicking trail from the starting point of your throbbing clitoral hood all the way until he reaches your hole. he pauses as sheeny drool following his mouth. saliva continues to slip away from his wry crooked lips as his lips open and close. he’s fucking sloppy.

it was no secret—toji fushiguro was feral, happily smearing his face against your cunt whilst his tongue multitasks, licking near your ass.

it’s a sensation that almost tickles but oh, you weren’t laughing. your toes curl up in pure ecstasy and your face scrunches as he’s just devouring you whole like the starved man he was.

“ngh, tojiiii,” you whine, feeling the luscious twirl of his fat long tongue run over against every part of your pussy. your estatic nerves felt it all, he was very precise and never missed a spot.

toji’s lip scar that swoops down the right curve of his mouth faintly brushes up near your clit as his head continues to move. he hears you ‘ooh’ at the ticklish feeling and he chortles darkly. he likes to loll out his tongue even further, repeatedly thwacking the center of his tongue against your clit just so you can grow dumb from his piercing.

with your chest continuously dipping and heaving, you’re shivering against the as he’s got a face full of your ass—he feels you reaching from behind, grabbing near his overgrown unkempt strands to give it a nice mean tug. you’re dragging his head against your pussy now, even if your grip was a bit weak. “ohmygod, ‘s gonna make me cum too quick, toji.”

“taste so sweet, he grumbles, your viscous slick gluing all against his reddened scarlet lips. toji continues to dip and delve his lengthy flat tongue in and out of your sweet puckering hole before trailing it back up towards your cunt.

you let off a pretty mewl that lasts for multiple seconds, feeling dewy saturated strings of his spit run away from his own two lips and slabber all over your wet flaps. if it’s one thing toji does, he makes sure that you’re always wet for him.

you’re biting your fist until your knuckles split, occasionally hearing him spit against your cunt again, using a clammy palm to smother it everywhere.

“my wet girl,” his lips purse, soft pants of breath fanning right against your slick. you’re frantically quavering—shaking, and those warm ghostly breaths that waft by your rear doesn’t make things any better. various tingles roam through your body as he’s eating you out from behind, savoring your taste entirely. “mhm, don’t get lazy on me now. shake y’er ass against my face, baby. fuck me back.”

you moan once he gives your right bare ass cheek a firm squeeze. cupping it into his palm, he spanks it before you obey his command. jolting soft skin recoils and jiggles against his face and toji snickers, lying his wide tongue even flatter against your exposed wet pussy.

“uh huh, atta girl, lemme taste all of you,” and as he’s slurping, it doesn’t take long before you’re shooting utter blanks yet again.

interrupting static deafens your ears as a roaring wave crashes through your veins. your knees abruptly buckle until you’re collapsing forward in the mattress and its silky sheets. only then do you now finish on his tongue, letting off a shrilling whine.

“mhm, there it is, there’s my sloppy baby,” and a lustrous stream of your sweetened juices spew down his chin. his chin’s now shiny, and your glistening slick even decorates his stubble.

“fuck,” he takes a moment to breathe, flicking his tongue against his lips. so sweet, toji’s dark eyes rove down at your cute elated state as you slumped into the pillows. you’re trying to crawl away but with two hands, he’s reeling you right back into him. “oh, no ya don’t. get back here, pretty girl,” and your lips part into an ‘o’ as you gasp, feeling his teeth playfully nibble against your pussy.

and toji doesn’t let you escape his grasp. not yet anyway, he was starving. he missed you, and his tongue showed that.

you hadn’t realized how much time’s passed whilst he’s between your legs—you’d guess it’s been a few hours since it was almost dusk now.

toji was a eater, he’s got you lied flat on your back now as he’s slurping you clean. his tongue flicks underneath his bottom lip, tasting the mess you caused that’s pouring down his slick chin. it’s probably been your fifth orgasm and your legs can barely hold themselves up.

“mhm,” and he’s just munching your pretty pussy, glossy strands of his own saliva mixing with your sap continues to dribble down his chin. he’s made such a mess, all because of you. “you sprayed between your legs, didn’t you baby?”

“n- no,” you lie, dragging his head back and forth against your cunt. you did, but to be fair you didn’t think it’d work. you thought it was just another scam. but it wasn’t — toji was here, eating you out as if your pussy was the last edible thing in world.

make no mistake, he was a filthy man. his entire chin’s cascading with a stream of your syrupy mess and he barely bats an eye. you didn’t know how much more you could take before he chuckles, finally departing his lips.

“you’re a bad liar,” and his voice grows deep again. you meet his eyes and that’s when toji makes you get on all fours again. “ass up. y’know the drill. atta girllll,” and you almost shiver from his touch. toji stares at your perked ass, bringing a palm towards your left templed cheek. smack, you moan from the abrupt sting before he later caresses it. “god, i missed you. those idiots wouldn’t even let me touch myself, baby. thought about you the entire time i was rottin’.”

and as he speaks, your cheek presses further against the pillow. toji tugs on his the sweats of his orange jumpsuit—the fabric writhes against his slim waist before falling down, now exposing his boxers. he watches as your ass writhes and he hums, springing out his thick cock. “shit, you don’t even realize how good you smell, do ya?”

“no,” you breathe, feeling a lump circle near the inside of your throat once he brings his tip towards your entrance.

it’s sopping wet, weeping with honeyed tears of slick before he smacks it against your puffy hood.

“fuuuck,” you whine out, the feeling of his bulbous mushroom tip bringing you so many memories. he brushes it down your sensitive slit and you feel the slimy remnants of precum that oozes off his frenulum. a hand of his wraps around his veiny length, giving it a few striking pumps before toji groans. “fuck me toji, f- fuckin’ hurry up.”

“now girl,” he brings another smack towards your rear. this time it’s harder, the recoil rings through your ears and makes you chew the inside of your cheek. “don’t rush me,” and as the bass in his voice pitches lowers and lower, you feel yourself pulsate right between your sprawled out thighs.

toji’s aligning himself, hearing your sloshing weeps sloppily exit out of your pussy. a wry smile compresses against his lips before he wraps a few fingers over the back of your throat with his free hand. “ ‘m gonna take my time with you. so, do me a favor baby. arch that pretty back ‘n shut the fuck up.”

it was such authority in his voice—despite his tip barely even being in, he felt your cunt twitching almost right away.

it makes him snicker to himself, caressing your stinging back side with a scarred bare hand.

“good girl,” and he leans further in, taking yet another whiff of your salaciously rich scent. “here it comes,” he lowly purrs, and you bite your lip once he’s finally entering inside of you.

toji’s slow, purposely. he loves more than anything to see your patience wearing thin, squirming and just aching for a crumb of dick. as he’s perfectly aligned, his swollen angered cockhead gradually starts to disappear inside of your pussy.

“biiiiig stretch, there we go babygirl. take it.” and you’re moaning at each ridiculous inch burying its way inside of you. with little to no ease at all, he’s mending your squashy walls and shaping them all due to the size of his thick cock.

he’s so big, so big that his dick makes your tummy cave in a bit and your thighs start to rattle.

toji’s got a fat delicious hook that always curves inside of you as he’s going in. it’s so good - so good to where you’re feeling butterflies brew up inside of your stomach . . unless that was just his bulge.

“toji, ohmygodohmygoddd,” you babble out, gasping with slick parted lips at the gaping barrage he makes with his dick. he’s only halfway in and yet you feel so full. you almost forgot what it was like for him to fuck you, and oh did you miss it. “you’re not—ngh, not gonna fit.”

“silly girl,” he huffs, already starting to feel himself break a sweat. his forehead’s starting to get clammy the more he’s easing his way in. the raven haired man towers over your jittery body before you feel his hungry gaze rove down your back. “we’ll make it work, princess. just like we always do, i trained this pussy well.”

squiiiissssh!

right after he speaks, you’re already gushing from his cock being so deep inside. his tip gets covered with your slick and he hums in amusement.

“even she agrees with me,” he hoarsely utters, preparing his sharp keen hips. you’re just so wet, you nibble down on your tongue as he’s losing himself further inside. it feels like forever until toji’s finally fully in. you hear a ringing ‘pop’ and that’s when you knew he was fitted nice and snug. “there we go, told ya. i always make it fit just for you—oh fuuucckk.”

your scent’s filling up the room now and it’s just driving him crazy. it gives him a headache, the kind of headache where he actually likes the pounding.

he can’t get enough of you, whether it’s your perfume, your body, or just you in general. all he knew was that he missed you and he was gonna show you how, with his deep pivotal thrusts.

“hngh, toji fuck,” you whimper out, and it doesn’t take long before he’s starting up a fast pitiless pace. the bed immediately dips from the harsh amounts of weight and pressure. toji’s got both hands glued to your hips.

his fat tip rudely thrashed at your sweet pulsing cunt time and time again. he’s simply relentless.

as he’s moving with such speed, you feel his full swollen base tap against your ass over and over.

you almost drooled, imagining how much he’d cum inside of you this time. his fingerstips dug so far into your skin that he left brief marks - it wasn’t too bad, but he’d definitely look back at it later just to tease you. “mmph, fuck toji. right there, that spot, baby.”

“i love you sweetheart but you talk too much,” he grouses, and you’re caught off guard once he pauses mid thrust just lean up close against you.

with your back still turned the opposite way, he pulls down your panties all the way, stuffing them in your empty mouth. “there, keep those pretty things in. only sounds i wanna hear is from y’er pussy, she’s the star tonight.”

toji’s cock was just merciless.

if you thought he was mean in bed, his hips were even meaner. ruthless, you’re being fucked against the springy mattress that’s creaking and the same babbles come out of your lips every time.

those same pathetic cries of his name. . it was like music to his ears. you couldn’t see yourself but you just knew you looked a mess.

you were drooling all against the satin pillow case as your eyes were just bulging out of their sockets. toji always knew how to stretch you good and stretch you right.

he was thick, driving his hips into you at such barbarous force that you were almost sure he was gonna break you. he wasn’t lying when he said he missed you. being away from you for so long was practically torture, and yes it was entirely his fault for getting locked up in the first place but still.

“ugh, mmph!” you whine, your noises becoming muffled from the bawled up panties that were stuffed inside of your puffed cheeks.

he was unapologetically drilling into your cunt as if he was a construction worker. if it wasn’t thanks to toji’s grip with hands, you’d probably fall of the bed and land flat on your ass.

“squeezin’ me so fuckin’ tight—shit,” he growls, his dark brows curling up together in frustration.

your walls were so clingy, they always were. his dick knew just the right spots to make you scream. after a few sloppy hits, his sweltering hot crown starts to break through your walls, pounding in and out until you’re just dumb full of cock.

you were stupid, entirely dumbfounded—and not a single thought crossed your mind as he’s hitting against that same sweet spot. you feel your toes curl up all the way until they feel numb and you let off a inaudible squeal. “pussy’s such a crybaby, look at how much y’er sobbin’ on me, princess.” he points out, purposely slowing his thrusts down just to ogle at the glimmering cobwebs of your own slick streaming down his cock.

it’s so pretty, you’re drenching his length each second and he feels himself twitch - you feel him twitch inside of you.

as he’s still vigorously delving his fat cock in and out of you, you feel toji’s grip around your neck softly tighten. silvery fingers stroke against your tender skin and you moan, a cock drunk smile spreading across your lips whilst your mouth’s full of your own damn panties.

you even taste yourself and it leaves a bittersweet taste in your mouth. toji then suddenly raises your ass up just a bit more.

“hey,” he grumbles, swatting a hand against your ass. you’re snapped out of your own lewd thoughts once the sting meets against your rear.

dark sly eyes flicker toward your body that’s twitching underneath him and he hums. “fuck back against me. don’t be a lazy girl,” and your cunt’s so close, you’re on the very verge and almost every nerve that’s buried between your thighs prepares itself for its elated finish. “fuck. me. back.” he repeats, his words an almost growl.

you whimper, quickening your hips again and he stares at your ass that’s gluing against his sharp pelvis, smack smack smacking away. the recoil was always his favorite part, he groans at how good you stick against him, luxuriating in your sweet filth.

you’re clinging onto the creamy white sheets for dear life while you’re also just casually getting the life fucked out of you.

toji always fucked like he hated you—of course, he didn’t. he loved you, he even put a pretty rock on your finger and couldn’t wait to take your last name. or vice versa.

alas, whenever the conversation went towards the bedroom, that was an entirely different story.

he was mean, sharp angered hips would plowed into you like he hated your guts. his tip’s a crimson red, kissing up against your sweetest spot that’s buried so far deep inside of you that it leaves a mark. your stomach continues to seize as he’s driving himself in and out of you, leaving a little bulge that prods near the lower part of your tummy.

“aw,” he glances at you trying to feel near the exact spot with your hand.

toji grunts lowly at the sharp twinge near his thigh, he’s almost out of fuel but he hasn’t had enough of you.

not yet.

“feel me there, yeah? ‘m really that deep, princess,” he whispers in a raspy tone, and you can hear just how out of breath he is. every few words were broken up and he’s panting right with you, pinching the bridge of his nose to suppress his own moans. “our future baby’s gonna be riiiight in here someday, princess. gonna make you the prettiest fuckin’ mommy.”

“mmph—mmph!”

“oh, right,” he cackles darkly, leaning in to pull your panties out of your mouth. once he does, you’re matching the drilling speed of his pants.

toji keeps jackhammering into your sopping wet cunt and you’re just hysterical. a raw squeal dies out from the back of your throat before you abruptly end up cumming.

it’s quick, you cream all down his cock and your eyelids fatally flap shut. “the fuck,” he pauses, and you feel yourself throbbing all around him. you’re shook, your eyebrows twist together in pleasure and you’re just trying to gasp for any breaths you could get. you pout once he stops his hips all of a sudden, still shoved numerous inches inside before he releases his hand from your throat. “i know you didn’t just cum on me baby.”

you gulp, still heavily sensitive. your body’s practically on fire and you hated that he suddenly stopped.

toji didn’t like whenever you came—without asking first at least. “ ‘m sorry,” you moan, hearing his heavy pants directly from behind you. there was a sweet bratty lie underneath your two words and he knew that. toji fushiguro was no idiot. “sorry toji, didn’t mean—”

“oh, babygirl i’m sorry too,” and you’re confused for a moment before he makes your face squish even further against the pillows. a hand of his lightly pushes your head back into the mattress. you whine once you feel him starting up again.

your pussy resumes to freely constrict around his length before he’s starting up his insane pace again. toji feels you trying to crawl away again, weakly trying to paw your hands at the edge of the bed but he’s pulling you right back.

your ass slams against him and you moan, feeling him thrash against your beloved g-spot yet again.

“nah, we aren’t running today. get back here ‘n take this,” and he talks over your sweet babbles and mewls, speaking in a faux tone to match yours. “you’re a big girl aren’t ya, yeahhh? so whatcha runnin’ for?”

as toji reels you back to his raunchy rude hips, they snap into you at full force and you’re just choking on your own mewling whimpers by this point.

hours past, many many hours of you being fucked in any and every position.

toji’s got you screaming at the top of your lungs from each delirious orgasm that he coaxed out of you. he tells you to give him one more, just one more—but that ‘one more’ ends up being at least six more.

you’ve never felt more dumb out of your mind, and every few seconds he’d run his nose down your back just to get another whiff of your sweet enticing scent. by now, he’s lost count of how many times he smelled you. whatever perfume you were wearing, it was now his favorite.

he had you creaming down his cock again and again, your legs shook in defeat and you moan once he prepares to start up again.

but that’s when you lie him back.

“ugh,” he falls back, and his arms rest over the headboard of the bed. there you’re met with the eyes of a very feral man. toji’s jumpsuit was half on, barely even on at this rate. you take a chance to look at him and he’s just so swole. your eyes roam down his beefy body. he’s definitely got more toned since the last time you saw him. his body, it’s as if he was a sculpture. his and were similar to a greek god, droplets of sweat race down near his sharp v-line and you were mentally drooling. you peer down at a few of his tats that ink into his skin, a few veins running down his forearms. “now, that’s pretty damn rude, baby. pushin’ me over like that. oughta—”

“shut up, toji,” you murmur, still trying to get over your most recent orgasm. your ears rang, so loud that it’s putting bells to shame. with hooded eyes and that same sleazy grin, he holds onto your waist as you make your way on his lap.

toji snickers, a palm of his hand squeezing your ass tight. “oh, so y’er gonna ride me. ‘s that what this is, princess?” and you could hear the smug in his tone.

he didn’t think you had the guts. .

the dimples that poke against either side of his lips confirmed his haughty expression. “cute, but fine. go ahead then, girl,” and he spanks your ass, burying his face into your neck, licking against your sweet skin. “ride me.”

you barely even last a few minutes—toji’s just too fucking big.

you’re babbling yet again at how he’s not gonna fit and he just wryly grins at you. seeing you struggle to take him for the umpteenth time continues to feed his annoying ego.

but like the gentleman he was, toji helps you.

big firm hands attach to your waist and he helps you align yourself once more. your cunt’s profusely drooling, aching for more despite the overstimulation that’s continuing to dumb you down.

“such a baby. gotta help ya with everything,” he whispers, hiding his face inside the crook of your neck.

your scent was still so loud, the smell of you alone made him throb and you felt it from the inside of your gripping pussy.

your clingy walls clamp and squeeze around him tightly before you start up your frantic hips again. twisting your brows together in lewd rapture, you whine—tossing your arms over his broad shoulders. after a few seconds, then do you start to move your hips. “fuck, that’s it baby. ride me good, yeah. move those hips, shiiit.”

he groans, feeling his pumping cock drag its way through every part of your slick walls. he never misses a spot, and he sticks his tongue out, dragging it down your collarbone.

“mhm, fuck me. ride it like you want it, princess.” he spanks your ass, hearing the bed wail and creak out frail groans of its own. your hips threw itself in a circle as you’re on his lap, taking in every inch of his thick heavy cock. toji closes his eyes, inhaling your scent for the nth time, and it’s almost as if the second you started riding him, your smell got even stronger.

your slick glosses down his cock entirely, and it’s so pretty. every chance you get, you stare down between your legs just to see the sloshing mess that’s slapping right directly right underneath you. strands of glistening juices blissfully mix with his and just it’s filthy.

it even tangles into a mere cobweb the quicker you bounce up and down his dick. “f- fuck, fuck,” you stammer, and you’re so full—full of nothing but long girthy inches.

again, his maddened plump tip was just rude.

it’s smacking against your spongy sensitive spot constantly, dragging out those cute whimpers from your throat. your fingertips claw down his back whilst your hips becoming incredibly sloppy. “toji, ‘m gonna cum again. fuck, gonna cum again. hngh, please lemme c-cum.”

“let me think about it,” he sighs, and your face cutely drops at his teasing. toji nips small minuscule bites near your neck as his cock stills inside of you. “hmmmmm,” and he even hums over your pleading whines. burly arms wrap around your waist before he squeezes near your ass. he waits for a good seven seconds before darkly chuckling, lapping his tongue directly underneath your chin. “fine. go ahe—fuck.”

toji groans because right as he speaks, he ends up cumming right with you. his teeth bites into your skin as he’s dumping in a fat load inside, creamy globs filling you up almost right away.

his body violently erupts, feeling a ripple of vibrations jolt through his body and you feel the exact same.

you felt a spark surge through your veins and your brain just turned into complete mush. as your dead hips feebly writhe against him your jaw is just hanging open. “hngh, ‘s full,” you wheeze, feeling him continue to overflow your pussy with such thick amounts.

it’s a lot, so much to where it’s drooling all down your thighs, matching color against the ivory colored sheets.

it was so warm - hot even.

you hear the sloshing spurts that it makes and you’re panting just as much as he was.

toji saved so much for you.

his jaw tightens as he leans back, one hand still glued to the right cheek of your ass. “god, i fuckin’ missed you,” he groans, feeling a tingly sensation at the way you swallow every drop with your drooling cunt. your hips waver over him, and once toji brings his face up to stare at you again, he cups your face. “you alright, princess?”

“y- yeah i—” but before you could even finish your sentence, he pulls you in a deep passionate kiss.

it’s sloppy more than anything, and you feel his hands creep down toward your tits, squeezing against your plump swollen mounds. you whine in his mouth as both tangled tongues move in tavern. shaggy bangs brush against your forehead as you wrap your arms around him. as he’s hungrily shoving his tongue down your throat, that’s when he feels your hips slowly starting to grind again.

after a few long seconds, toji pulls away, watching the lustrous trial of saliva leave from both lips. he’s still so sensitive and so were you.

“baby,” he says, raspy and out of breath. he leans in, giving you one more sniff before groaning in your neck. the insides of your thighs were sticky, glued to the very crevices with his hot gluey cum and you definitely milked him. “i need more—fuck, i need more.” and you gasp once you’re suddenly flipped over on your back.

leafy green eyes bore into your ass and you moan once toji drags a big thumb down your cunt that’s slobbering with milky globs of his seed.

“shit, look at this mess,” and he slides his tongue across his lip - specifically, across the scar that runs down his sly crooked lips. “hah, y’er tummy’s not full enough yet, princess,” and you can almost hear the pout in his voice as he’s stood behind you.

toji vertically smears his thumb against your cunt that’s weeping with such thick velvety amounts of cum. he inches his face toward your rear before bringing a kiss towards your wet entrance.

“before i give you more though, ‘m gonna have ‘ta clean this mess,” and you let off a surprised gasp once he dips his tongue back into your pussy again, the cold pierced ball that lies on his tongue making you whimper. “so be a good girl ‘n bend over again for me,” and he starts to nibble against your clit, feeling you ardently pulse against his tongue.

“heh, but i gotta say, this food right here’s so much fuckin’ better than the shit they serve us in prison, princess,” and toji spits right on your folds one last time, giving it a playful smack. “so much better. . ”

[pacofprunes]

wishful thinking

thanos/su-bong x pregnant! reader (fluff, comfort)

warnings — thanos and reader have matching tattoos, crying, mentions of sex, cursing, mentions of pissing on a door, pregnant reader, switching of referring to thanos and subong so hope you don’t get too confused, use of bitch (not towards reader), lowercase, typical squid game shit so mentions of blood and death,

you joined these games because although you thought it was too good to be true, it was all you could do. your shitty ex su-bong making you invest all your money into some dumbass crypto scam and blowing all of your guys money on drugs, childish bets, and gambling. after he blew both your guys money out, you left him, blocked him on everything, ignored your doorbell when he’d attempt to see you in person, everything. but two months after you broke up, it all came crashing down. you found out you were pregnant. and he was the only one you let see that part of you, it was his. but you were sure he moved on and even if he hadn’t, you couldn’t take him back. if he was this much of an incompetent person, he’d definitely be a terrible father. you didn’t want him in your life or your child’s.

besides some guy you assumed to have dementia or be on drugs, the game was going pretty smooth. until it wasn’t and it turns out the guy wasn’t crazy and people all around you were dying. blood splatting on your face left and right. you finally find a method and stay behind other people and everything was going smoothly again besides the intense stress and pressure. your heart and stomach feeling heavy. but the next time that doll turns around you hear a bunch of screams and you look to the right and see that su-bong was here too, and he had just pushed all of those people. he looked crazed. you just ignore it and try not to think about it, finally passing that finish line and being done with the first game, waiting for a full explanation.

you all move back into the main rooms that contained all your beds and people start screaming and yelling for answers. crying to go home, begging for their lives. you too wanted to go home, but you had so much on your mind. so much that you don’t notice your ex is nearing right behind you.

“señorita! oh my god baby is that you?”

he grabs your shoulder and turns you around to face him and you look up at him, frowning your eyebrows. he starts grabbing your face in his hands, touching all over you, not being able to comprehend it was you.

“oh god, it is you, babe, are you okay? where have you been i’ve missed you—”

“subong, stop. we’re not together, and we never will be ever again.”

you push his hands off your face and step back to put some distance between you two, still giving him a major glare. he reaches his arms out towards you again as if he was slowly trying to pick up a scared puppy.

“cmon— you can’t still be mad. baby, i’ll make it up to you, especially now.”

you look behind him and see a few people waiting on him, clearly eavesdropping. he turns around and looks at you again, a puppy dog look on his face but you shake it off.

“it’s not going to work subong. the debt im in now is insane because of you!”

he holds his right hand out before grabbing your right hand.

“baby please — we got these tattoos together,”

you look down at your hands and see the matching line placements decorating both of your hands. it was a stupid idea. you’d been dating for a little over a year, you shouldn’t had done it, you knew that. but you could barely pay for your bills, you definitely couldn’t pay to remove a tattoo. but deep in your heart you wished he was different, wished you could forgive him because deep down you still loved him. that tattoo was a sick reminder of that everyday. you realize you’d been staring at the two of your hands for a while before pulling away quickly. he looks at you with a smile and hope in his eyes. he places both of his hands on your shoulders again.

“see, we’re meant to be. it was a mistake, i know, i did it out of the goodness of my heart! for us, for you, you know that.”

you scoff at him.

“no. no i don’t know that. we’re not getting back together choi su-bong, that’s final.”

his hands go limp on your shoulders before you speak up, saying your next few choice of words slightly quieter as his fans or friends or whoever was still behind you two, stop eavesdropping.

“and just so you know, i’m pregnant. it’s yours. i’m keeping it. i don’t need you to help me. i’ll find a way to make money and i’ll raise my child.”

he stares at you stunned before you push away and move through the crowd. you hear him yell for you, yelling that cringy señorita pet name your way, but you ignore him, trying to hide in the crowd, listening to what the guards say as he drowns in the sea of people.

the guard mentions voting and how you guys were gonna vote whether to stay or leave. part of you wanted to stay still, but if you died, so did your baby. and you were scared out of your mind, nothing able to comfort you. so you knew you were going to choose to leave. you weren’t in insane debts but you still had a lot. the money they were offering after the first game was nowhere near close enough to pay it all off. you would have to play one more game, maybe even two to pay it off, but you couldn’t take any risks. they start calling from highest to lowest numbers and once they call ‘player 230’, your shitty ex makes his way down the line, skipping to smack that blue button, choosing to stay. it only made you wanna choose the other side even more. your turn comes and you choose to leave, sticking the red ‘x’ on your chest. you could see him staring at you through the corner of your eye, but you just chose to ignore it. creepy bastard.

after arguments and close physical alterations, the voting was over. you had lost, you’d be staying for another game. you wanted to go but at least you’d have an opportunity to make a little more money, you guess…

“excuse me, young lady, would you like to join us?”

you look over to a short older woman holding onto your arm, pointing over to a small group of people who were sitting on their beds. you give her a small smile and nod, letting her take you over there. she signals where you can sit and you move slowly while holding your stomach, letting out a deep breath once you finally get down all the way. you look around and there’s an older man, a younger girl, and another woman with some very strong features. the older woman speaks.

“i mean, i can’t believe they chose to stay! no offense hyun-ju, but come on!”

the older woman smacks her hand down on the bed and you give her a sympathetic and understanding look. she looks up at you before she gets a surprised look on her face and quickly flails herself around to get her composure.

“right! ma’am, this is my son yong-sik, this is young-mi, and this is hyun-ju.”

she pauses looking at you and sits up quickly again.

“oh, and you can call me mrs jang.”

she gives you a teethy smile. realizing she’s waiting for you to introduce yourself you let out an oh and tell her who you are and she grabs your hands into hers and rubs circles into them.

“oh that name is so pretty. a pretty name for such a pretty girl.”

her son yong-sik slaps her shoulder and then they start arguing. you just sit there happy to have the company before you look to your right and see subong on the other side staring at you. you quickly look away and look down at your legs, biting your lip.

“yo, who’s that girl? you were arguing with her earlier. she’s smoking.”

he keeps staring before snapping his head back at nam-gyu.

“you are right, she is smoking hot.”

he pauses.

“well you see nam-su—”

“nam-gyu…”

“right right, nam-gyu, anyways, that’s my girl over there, okay? she just playin’ hard to get right now is all’,”

nam-gyu raises his eyebrows, getting an idea.

“soo, you gonna let me have a turn with that, right?”

thanos slaps his arm.

“nah bro, i normally share but that, ive had dibs on her for at least two years.”

he slaps nam-gyus arm again and then grabs it, causing nam-gyu to let out an ‘ow bro’,

“don’t worry bro! i’m sure we can find ya a bitch in here though! keep your mind busy and dick wet and we’re sure to win this whole thing.”

he slaps his arm one last time before nam-gyu slaps him back, thanos just laughing before slowly going back to watching you. trying to figure out how he should go about this. deciding that he’d just wait until everyone was asleep to talk to you again.

night time comes around and you had to piss. this fucking sucked. you had none of your pain killers, and you were about to crawl into a ball and start ripping your skin off from the pain you were in. but right now just focus on pissing. just focus on pissing you thought. you get up slowly, clutching your stomach before walking up to the door to the bathroom, knocking on it, waiting for someone to answer. finally the window slides open and you’re met with a triangle looking at you, or at least you think he, it? is looking at you.

“uhm, excuse me, i need to use the washroom.”

“players may not leave this room past your given curfew.”

the window to the door shuts. you take a deep breath, not willing to cause a scene and just about walk away before a guy walks up behind you and starts making a scene for you. that guy being su-bong.

“hey, me and my girl are tryna fuck, if you want we can do it right in the middle of this fucking room!”

it doesn’t work and the door doesn’t open.

“im not a girl! i have a penis and i know how to fucking aim. the next time you open this door it’s gonna be fucking yellow instead of pink i promise you that! i gotta heavy ass piss stream i been holdin’ and i can let out all over this door!”

you slap him, asking him what he was doing and that he was being crazy. but if you were being honest you were trying to stiffle a laugh. he always was funny, and in your relationship he always knew how to make you laugh. you’re pulled out of your thoughts when somehow what he said actually worked and they opened the door for you both. you make your way to the bathrooms and it’s silent the whole time. he was thinking of what to say to you. a million things running through his mind. you make it to the two bathrooms and you go and open the women’s bathroom door before it feels ten time lighter and you see subong holding the door open for you. giving you a cheeky grin. you just look at him before making your way into the bathroom and the door closing behind you. you hadn’t even noticed that you were holding your breath before you breathe out and realized your lungs were burning.

“i really have missed you, you know?”

you snap your head around and see that he had followed you into the bathroom and you call him a perv, yelling at him to get out.

“hey! i’m not here to fuck alright. i mean, unless you’re down then babe, let’s get it fucking going.”

he claps his hands together and you give him a disgusted look before going into one of the bathroom stalls and slamming the door shut so you could finally piss. but when you were done actually doing your business, you just sat there with your face in your hands. he was stressing you out, this baby was stressing you out, and this place was stressing you out and you were on the verge of a breakdown.

“i’m not coming out until you’re gone.”

you see his feet right under the bathroom stall door you were in and groan. hearing the door creak a little, assuming he was leaning against it, which he was.

“baby, please. i just want us again. i’ve missed you so much, you’ve been the only thing on my mind since you left.”

you started to tune him out and started rubbing your face in your hands even more, feeling your eyes start to water, your breath getting caught in your throat, your sniffing starting to become louder before one of your sobs slips and he hears it. asking if you were okay and you just ignore him, covering your mouth with your hand, continuing to cry.

“please let me in.”

you take a deep breath and slightly get up to unlock the door before sitting back down on the toilet seat, face still in your hands. he crouches down to you and cups your face in his hands before he pulls you in for a hug and starts rubbing circles into your back. your sobs getting louder as you burry your face into his bloody jacket, but you really weren’t thinking about that. god thinking of when you two were like this made you start to regret the past, yearn for a future with you two, and hate the present situation you were in. still crying into his jacket as he continues to try to soothe you with his touch. he pulls away after awhile and pushes your tears away with his thumb. his heart crumbling as he sees your teary orbs looking him in the eyes. you’d cried to him before when you were together, and he had comforted you many times before, but never had he seen you this distraught. he hooks his arm under your shoulder and lifts you to standing and he moves you out of the bathroom stall. you wipe your tears away, mumbling a sorry, avoiding all eye contact with him, looking at the ground.

“baby, look at me.”

your eyes look around at the ground before you slowly move your head up to look at him, a small pout on your lips. biting them from the nerves. it was a bad habit you’d never gotten rid of, you’ve had it since he’s met you. he looks at you, almost looking through your eyes. he places one hand on your arm, and grabs your right hand in his right hand, the matching tattoos clashing together.

“please, give me another chance. we’ll figure out the money, work, all of it.”

he pauses and looks down at your stomach. moving the hand that was on your arm to hold your stomach. looking up at you for confirmation that he could and you give him a small nod before he rubs the side of your tummy.

“i just can’t believe it. you should’ve told me!”

he raises his voice and you look away. still about to completely knaw off your lip.

“i didn’t think you’d want to stay. can you blame me?”

he pauses his rubs on your stomach, other hand still in yours and moves the hand that was on your stomach to your face, making you look at him. putting his thumb on your lips, getting you to stop biting them.

“i promise i want to be there for you and for our baby.”

you take a deep breath and he rubs his thumb on your tattoos.

“i won’t leave you, i’ll be better for us, i promise baby.”

you whisper under your breath. can’t believing you were about to say what was about to come out of your mouth.

“you promise…?”

his eyes light up.

“i promise baby.”

he pulls you into a tight hug and he hears you groan, forgetting that he might’ve been putting too much pressure on your belly. he gives you an awkward smile and he takes your hand into his and holds both your guys hands up to your face, as if showing you that he was never gonna let go of you again, and you two couldn’t be separated. you give him a light smile before letting go of his hand and he gives you a look of confusion.

“what? you never gave me the chance to wash my hands.”

[woniedarlin]

Shared Custody

Pairing: Ex! Jungwon x reader

Synopsis: Breaking up with Jungwon was one thing. But agreeing to co-parent a dog afterward? That was how you ended up in the weirdest post-breakup situation ever. Because what kind of exes still see each other at precisely 10 a.m?

You broke up. You’re sure of it. So why does it feel like your relationship never ended? Just… got a schedule and a leash?

Author's note: Another fic has been sitting in the drafts for too long. I finally decided to share it with you all. Hope you enjoy it! Happy reading!

Warnings: This story contains equal parts fluff and angst, with a dash of unresolved feelings, awkward ex moments, and a dog that might steal the spotlight. Reader discretion is advised! 🐾

Permanent tag list: @sol3chu @chlorinecake @13tter @jung1w0n @layzfy @firstclassjaylee @ijustwannareadstuff20

Here’s the thing no one tells you about breakups:

When you two bought a dog together while you were still dating, breaking up isn’t just about parting ways with a person. You get partial custody of an emotional support furball with no idea why mom and dad stopped living together. The breakup was mutual. There was no shouting, no ugly crying, no one storming out at 2 a.m. with a suitcase and a dramatic one-liner.

It was a quiet and tired conversation on the couch. Some nods. A few long silences. And Maeumi, curled up between you, unaware that his life was about to get complicated.

You probably should’ve fought over him. Or at least discussed like rational adults. Instead, you both just… didn’t let go. Now, you set schedules like divorced parents. Only with more awkward small talk and a lot of pretending it’s totally normal to see your ex every other day at exactly 10:00 a.m.

It started with meetups. Hand off the leash, say a polite hello, smile as if it doesn’t sting anymore. Then it became coffee afterwards. Then breakfast “because he looks hungry and I’m already here anyway.”

Then, last weekend, Maeumi ate an entire bag of chips and got sick all over Jungwon’s living room, which somehow led to you arguing about brand-name kibble.

“You were the one who said he needed variety!”

“Variety doesn’t mean junk food!”

“They were organic!”

“He threw up on my socks, (name).”

And you’re not proud of it, but you laughed. A little too hard. Then Jungwon laughed, and it felt like nothing had changed for a moment.

But everything had.

Now, you’re waiting for Jungwon in the usual meeting spot, Maeumi’s leash wrapped loosely around your wrist as he trots in excited little circles. Jungwon’s late. Not by much, just five minutes. Enough to make you wonder if he’s okay. Enough to make you check your phone. He shows up a minute later, hair a bit messy, holding two coffees. “Sorry,” he says. “I stopped by that place you like. The one with the stupid tiny straws.”

You take the cup without a word.

Maeumi barks, happy as ever, tail wagging because it was the best part of his week. Seeing his divorced parents together! ૮ ˶ˆ ﻌ ˆ˶ ა

“Did he eat?” Jungwon asks.

You replied. “Yeah. But he thinks spinning in a circle gets him more food now.”

Jungwon sighs. “You didn’t.”

You shrug. “It was funny. He almost knocked over my lamp trying it this morning.”

There was a slight pause before, “He seemed to miss you a lot when he was with me last week. A good thing he has spent with you these past few days.” Jungwon says, nudging Maeumi’s head.

You nod, eyes on your coffee cup. “I missed him too.”

You’re not sure which of them you’re talking about.

🍎

Maeumi planted his butt on the floor and refused to move. You tugged the leash gently. “Come on, it’s Dad’s turn.” Maeumi looked at you. Then looked at Jungwon. Then flopped onto his side. You sighed. “He’s being a brat again.”

Jungwon crouched beside you, holding out a treat from his pocket. “Maeumi, let’s not do this today.”

Maeumi sniffed the treat, stood up halfway, then turned around and pressed himself against your leg.

You and Jungwon exchanged a look.

“I think he’s made his choice,” you said.

“It’s not even a choice. It’s supposed to be my weekend.”

“You tell him that.”

Jungwon sighed and looked down at Maeumi, who was now rolling over, belly up, smug as ever. “You’re a traitor. You know that?”

Maeumi sneezed in response.

Eventually, after five minutes of bargaining and light bribery, Jungwon stepped inside your apartment to get him moving. One minute turned into five. Then ten. Now you were both sitting on the couch, a lukewarm mug of tea in his hands, Maeumi curled between you like a peace treaty in dog form. “You know,” you said, watching as Maeumi kicked his leg in his sleep, “he wasn’t like this when we first got him.”

“Nope,” Jungwon muttered. “He used to listen to me. Now he acts like he pays rent.”

“That’s your influence.”

He shot you a look. “My influence? You’re the one who started giving him tiny portions of your dinner because he’s a spoiled prince.”

You shrugged and grinned. “He deserves nice things.”

“He eats better than me.”

Jungwon glanced at you for too long, then looked away and sipped his tea.

You didn’t notice.

Well, yeah, you did, but you were pretending not to.

Jungwon leaned back a little. Then he looked toward the kitchen. And then he saw it. The mug. The one he bought for your birthday two years ago. You loved it to the point that you used it daily while you two were still dating. He nodded toward the cupboard. “Didn’t think you still had that.”

You glanced over. “Huh? Oh. Yeah.”

He didn’t say anything else, but his eyes stayed on it. That dumb, ceramic memory sitting there as if it had every right to exist in a post-breakup world.

You added, “It’s a good mug.”

Jungwon barely smiled. “Yeah. Real high quality.”

You didn’t reply.

He looked back at Maeumi, who was still fast asleep between you, snoring lightly. “I keep one of your spoons in my drawer,” Jungwon said suddenly.

Your head turned. “What?”

“You left it after that one trip. The one where we bought those instant noodles that tasted like cardboard.”

“Oh. Right.” You stared ahead. “That was a good weekend.”

“It rained.”

“I like rain.”

You both nodded and pretended the conversation didn’t sting a little.

Maeumi snored louder as if he were trying to cover the silence.

🍎

Your phone buzzed at 11:42 p.m.

You were half-asleep. Maeumi had gone home with Jungwon hours ago, but the apartment still felt…full.

You grabbed your phone.

Jungwon [11:42 PM]

Thanks for taking care of him this week. He seemed extra happy. When he saw you, his tail wagged about ten times per second.

You smiled without meaning to, your thumb hovering over the keyboard to send a quick "anytime" or maybe a "he missed you too."

But another message came in before you could type.

Jungwon [11:43 PM]

You’re still the easiest person to talk to.

You stared at the screen.

You didn’t know what to say. Or perhaps you did, and that was the problem.

So you… didn’t reply.

🍎

Jungwon sat on the curb's edge, nursing a canned coffee. Sunghoon was sipping from his drink, watching him spiral in silence. “I’m losing it,” Jungwon finally said. “She still knows how I take my coffee. Didn’t even ask.”

Sunghoon glanced over. “She made it the same way she used to? Back when you two were together?”

Jungwon nodded slowly. “Exactly like that.”

“And you’re upset because…?”

“I don’t know,” Jungwon shaked his head. “She laughs at my jokes the same way. She still says ‘bless you’ when I fake sneeze for attention. And today, I saw the mug I got for her birthday two years ago, sitting in her cupboard like it never left.”

“Maybe it’s just a good mug?” Sunghoon offered.

Jungwon stared at him. “That mug has a whale on it saying ‘whale you be mine.’ It wasn’t just a mug.”

Sunghoon choked on his drink and wiped his mouth. “Okay, yeah, that’s tragic.”

“And she still wears my hoodie,” Jungwon added. “She likes that hoodie.”

Sunghoon crossed his arms. “So, what’s the plan? Gonna ask for the hoodie back and confess your undying love in the same breath?”

“I don’t know what I’m doing. I thought I was over her. I thought we were fine being exes who raise a dog together.” Jungwon let out a long sigh and tilted his head back. “I don’t know when it started feeling like this again.”

Sunghoon crumpled his empty drink can and tossed it into the bin beside them. “You mean the part where you show up with her favorite foods, sit on her couch like you never left, and keep pretending Maeumi’s the only reason you’re still hanging around?”

Jungwon looked at Sunghoon. “…Okay, rude. But not wrong.”

“Exactly. Look, man.” Sunghoon turned to face him fully now. “You two broke up. Sure. But you’re still texting her late at night, still wearing the cologne she once said smelled nice, and still looking at her like she’s the only person in the room.”

Jungwon groaned. “She’s just being nice. She always was.”

Sunghoon scoffed. “No one’s that nice, bro. She has your hoodie. She made you pancakes last week. You said she cut the strawberries the way you like them.”

“She always cuts the ends-”

“Exactly.” Sunghoon gave him a look. “At this point, you’re not just co-parenting a dog. You’re toeing the line of a romcom reboot.” He added, “Seriously, who even does this? Shared custody over a dog? With your ex? This is the weirdest post-breakup dynamic I’ve ever seen.”

Jungwon didn’t even deny it. He muttered, “…Yeah, but it’s kind of working.”

Sunghoon nodded solemnly. “You’re doomed.”

Jungwon groaned. “I think I’m accidentally falling in love with her again.”

“No such thing as accidental. You just never stopped.”

🍎

Maeumi wasn’t himself. You noticed it the moment he refused his dinner. He moved slowly, dragging his paws across the floor, and his eyes looked distant. Something was off. He usually had a healthy appetite, but tonight, nothing. You knelt beside him, gently rubbing his back. “Hey, Maeumi, what’s going on?”

He let out a weak whimper. Panic rose in your chest. You didn’t know what was wrong but knew you needed help. You grabbed your phone without thinking.

Jungwon picked up almost immediately. “What’s wrong?” His voice was concerned, even though he wasn’t sure what was happening.

“Maeumi’s sick. He won’t eat, he’s not moving much… I don’t know what’s happening.”

“Don’t worry. I’m coming over.”

It didn’t take long for him to arrive, his face tense as he crouched down to Maeumi’s level. The dog barely acknowledged him, enough to make you both nervous. “We should take him to the vet,” Jungwon said after a moment.

You nodded, already on the phone, setting up an appointment. The drive was tense, your hand gripping the door handle while Jungwon kept one hand on the wheel, his eyes between you and Maeumi.

When you finally arrived at the clinic, it was quiet. You and Jungwon waited in the sterile, cold waiting room. Maeumi was lying on your lap, his eyes closed and his breathing shallow. You rubbed his head absentmindedly, trying to calm yourself. “He’s going to be okay,” Jungwon said quietly, glancing over at you.

You nodded but didn’t answer. He touched his hand lightly near yours as he reached for the water cup beside you, and for a fleeting second, you felt his warmth. You looked at him, but his gaze was somewhere else, not meeting yours.

For a brief moment, you wondered if he missed this. If he missed you. But before you could even entertain the thought, the door to the exam room opened, and the vet emerged, pulling your focus back to Maeumi. Jungwon stood up. “He’ll be fine,” he said.

And you weren’t sure what to make of it, but for the first time since your breakup, you couldn’t ignore how much it stung to see him so close yet still so distant.

🍎

By the time you and Jungwon returned from the vet, Maeumi was already dozing off on the couch, wrapped in an old blanket and looking much more himself. The panic had eased. You stood by the kitchen, hands on the counter, watching Jungwon kneel to check Maeumi. You glanced at the time. “It’s late. You should eat before you head back.”

Jungwon looked up. “You sure?”

“Yeah. I was gonna cook anyway,” you said, opening the fridge. “Don’t expect a five-course meal, though.”

“I never did,” he said, smiling as he joined you in the kitchen. “You still burn rice, don’t you?”

You gave him a light shove with your elbow. “That happened once. And the pot betrayed me.”

Then, he washed the vegetables while you stirred the soup. It was annoyingly comfortable.

By the time dinner was done, the table was set. Jungwon set down the last dish and glanced over at you. “This… feels like we never broke up,”

You froze. Then, you replied, “We never used to have this much garlic.”

He huffed a small laugh but didn’t push it. And for the rest of dinner, neither of you brought it up again.

🍎

The dishes were washed. The leftovers are packed. Maeumi, finally feeling a bit better, had claimed his usual spot at the foot of your couch, tail thumping gently as he dozed. You stood near the sink, drying your hands on a dish towel, when Jungwon spoke from behind you. “I didn’t just miss Maeumi, you know.”

“I miss…” He let out a soft breath. “I miss all of it.”

“Do you still think about us?” he asked.

The silence was deafening. You felt him watching your back, waiting. And if the room had stayed that quiet a second longer, you would’ve said something honest. But Maeumi barked as if he’d sensed the tension rising and decided to cut it clean. You both jumped slightly. You turned with a light laugh, avoiding his gaze. “I think someone needs his water refilled.”

Jungwon didn’t press. He nodded before crouching to check Maeumi’s bowl.

Neither of you said anything else.

But the question stayed.

🍎

It happens on a night that should’ve been uneventful. A regular handoff. Maeumi is snoozing on your carpet, belly full. Jungwon’s quiet tonight. You notice it right away, but you pretend not to. You handed over Maeumi’s leash, but he didn’t take it. “You still have my hoodie,” he says.

You glance up. “What?”

He gestures vaguely toward the coat rack. “The gray one. I saw it last week. You used to sleep in it.”

You shrug. “It’s comfortable.”

His jaw tightens, but he laughs a little. “Everything I gave you is ‘comfortable,’ huh?”

You don’t answer.

“I saw your story the other day,” he adds. “Looked like a date.”

Now, you furrow your eyebrows. “Seriously?”

Jungwon runs a hand through his hair. “Forget it.”

“No,” you say. “You brought it up. So say it.”

“It’s confusing. For one moment, we laughed as if nothing had changed. Then, in the next instant, I remember how you used to fall asleep on my chest or steal all the blankets.” His voice wavers for a moment, but he pushes on. “I just can’t tell if I’m the only one stuck in the past or you’re better at pretending.”

You hesitate, then quietly. “I wish I could say I moved on, but I haven't.”

Jungwon’s shoulders drop a little. “Then why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you?”

He looks down. “Because you looked like you were doing okay. And I didn’t want to make it harder if you were healing.”

“I wasn’t okay,” you say softly. “I’m still not.”

Jungwon lifts his head, his eyes locking with yours. “Neither am I.”

“I miss you,” he says. “Not just Maeumi. Not just Saturday mornings. I miss… talking to you. I miss knowing how you’re doing without having to ask.”

You look away. “Then why are we doing this?” you whisper. “Why are we acting like we’re fine?”

He lets out a breath. “Because maybe we don’t know how to be anything else.”

You nod slowly. “Yeah.”

He says, more gently this time, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to start an argument.”

You shake your head. “You didn’t.”

He bends down and clips the leash onto Maeumi’s collar. The dog wags his tail, clueless, happy just to be loved by both of you. Jungwon straightens up but doesn’t turn to leave right away. He looks around your apartment. His eyes land briefly on the hoodie by the coat rack, then the familiar mug on your kitchen shelf.

“I still love you,” he says suddenly.

You freeze.

“I didn’t think I should say it. I didn’t want to make this harder. I thought… maybe it’d get easier if I stopped talking about it. But it didn’t.”

He’s not asking for anything. Not a hug. Not a kiss. Not to come back. He was standing there with his hand gently resting on Maeumi’s back because it kept him from breaking. “You laughed at one of my jokes last week,” he says softly. “And for a second, I forgot we weren’t together anymore. That’s how easy it is to fall back into you.”

You swallow hard. But he keeps going.

“I didn’t want to make you feel guilty. Or corner you. I just needed you to know. It wasn’t because I stopped feeling everything when we broke up. I was scared. And tired. And maybe I thought it’d hurt less if we ended it on our terms.”

He finally looks at you. “But it still hurts.”

Maeumi lets out a soft bark. Jungwon reaches down and scratches behind his ears; for a second, it’s just the sound of his hand brushing fur. Then he straightens again, but now you notice his eyes are a bit glassy. “I’ll take him tonight. I’ll text you tomorrow. If you need anything, or if… you want to talk more, I’m one call away.”

You nod. Slowly. You can’t get your voice to work. But your eyes say enough.

Jungwon opens the door and glances back just once. “Goodnight,” he says.

And then they’re gone.

🍎

Jungwon sits on the edge of his bed, hair slightly damp from a rushed shower. Maeumi is curled beside him, his head resting on his paw, and his eyes blinking up at him as if he understands more than a dog ever should. Jungwon takes a small breath and runs a hand through Maeumi’s fur. “You don’t have to look at me like that,” he mutters. “I didn’t yell.”

Maeumi blinks again.

“Okay,” Jungwon sighed, leaning back a little, “I maybe said too much.” He sighed. “I don’t know, Maeumi,” he murmurs, voice softer now. “She just looked at me like I was someone from a different life. That sucked.’’ Jungwon glances down and smiles sadly. “Don’t worry,” he says quietly. “Mommy and Daddy were just having a little disagreement.”

He lays back on the bed. “I’ll bring her back,” he whispers. “I swear, Maeumi. I’ll bring your mom back to me.”

Maeumi lets out a soft woof.

🍎

The rain had been pouring since morning. You didn’t expect anyone when the doorbell rang, especially not Jungwon. But there he was. Standing at your doorway, drenched from head to toe, Maeumi dripped beside him and looked more like a soggy mop than a dog. “Uh,” Jungwon offered sheepishly. “He refused to walk anywhere else.”

You said in disbelief. “You could’ve called.”

“I did. You didn’t answer.”

You step aside. “Come in before Maeumi gets mistaken for a wet sock.”

Towels came out. You wrapped one around Maeumi, rubbing his fur as he wagged his tail. Jungwon was quieter. You handed him a dry hoodie from your closet, which was his, actually. It still smelled like him, though it had sat folded for months.

He changed. You made tea. He sat across you on the couch, rubbing Maeumi’s ears absently. “I’ve been thinking,” Jungwon started, voice gentle. “We weren’t ready back then. But maybe now…”

You looked at him, guarded. “I’ve changed,” he continued. “You have too. And I don’t just mean getting better at feeding Maeumi actual food.” You smiled a little. He took it as permission. “I guess I want to say I’m sorry. For everything I didn’t say before. For not knowing how to stay when things got hard.”

You met his gaze. “I’m sorry, too. For pushing you away when I didn’t know what I needed.”

“Do you think Maeumi would be okay if we lived together again?” Jungwon asked suddenly, eyes hopeful.

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you asking for the dog or for you?”

A sheepish smile curved his lips. “Both.”

You didn’t answer right away. Instead, you leaned into his shoulder, your head resting there like it used to. “Maybe we could try again,” you said quietly. “For real this time.”

Jungwon’s hand found yours.

Maeumi snored at your feet.

And outside, the rain kept falling, washing everything clean.

[pomegranatesarchive]

two lonely friends | oscar piastri

paring: oscar piastri x journalist!reader

summary: lando norris has two lonely best friends. he gets an idea, why not set them up?

f1wags: y/n l/n, landos bestfriend was seen entering the monaco grand prix paddock today!

view comments below!

user1: OH BROTHER

user2: free my girl y/n 🗣️

user3: the day y/n stops getting referred to as “landos bestfriend” is the day i can REST

user4: landos bestfriend?? sorry i only know y/n l/n f1 journalist??

user5: y’all do this every race 🙄 OFC SHES THERE. THATS HER JOB.

user6: she’s such a moocher

user7: she’s literally there to do HER JOB?

user8: it’s crazy how after a year of oscar being in f1, we still haven’t gotten a y/n and oscar interaction ???

user9: y/n, our comfort outfit queen

ynandlandocontent: my favorite snippet of landos and y/ns interview 🧡

view comments below!

user10: ugh them ☹️☹️

user11: literally just make out already

user12: the very best FRIENDS

user13: she’s so unprofessional 💀

user14: this wasn’t even part of the interview 😭 this was just a blooper 🙄

user15: OKAY BUT Y/N FINALLY GOT TO INTERVIEW OSCAR ???

user16: ugh i love them so much 😞

user17: lando and y/n shippers where??

user18: HERE 🙋‍♂️

oscarpastyupdates: y/n interviewing oscar today!

view comments below!

user19: oscar “but um” piastri everyone!

user20: FINALLY SOME Y/N x OSCAR CONTENT!!

user23: why do i ship…

user24: they literally only talked once 😭😭

user23: okay let me BEEE

user25: guys did you see how hard he was blushing, or am i just crazy???

user26: they literally want each other SO BAD

user27: i can feel the tension through the screen

user28: ok so do i ship lando x y/n or oscar x y/n

— one day later !

ynupdates: queen y/n was seen out last night by multiple fans! she looks beautiful!

view comments below!

user29: HELLOOO???? IS THAT NOT OSCAR

user30: ARE WE JUST GOING TO PRETEND THAT THAT IS NOT OSCAR PIASTRI???

user31: omg oscar stole landos girl

user32: landos girl???

user33: wait i like this

user34: i love how the caption doesn’t mention oscar at ALL

user35: let them cook 🔥🔥

user36: okay oscar i see you 👀

user37: i wonder how lando feels about this..

liked by charles_leclerx, yourusername, landonorris, and 673,928 others!

lando.jpg: happy birthday to my little sister! you’re ancient now 😞 here’s to many more birthdays together!

view comments below!

user38: aw ☹️

user39: okay guys i’m crying

user40: lando ALWAYS eats with his birthday captions

user41: i wonder if landos ex’s had ever felt intimidated by y/n

user42: y/n has said that she has never not gotten along with landos gfs, so there’s that!

user43: okay now kiss

user44: i still ship idc

user45: her and lando ✅ her and oscar ❌

yourusername: ugh lando you love me so much, it’s disgusting

lando.jpg: i will take away your present.

yourusername: NO IM SORRY

liked by, mclaren, landonorris, oscarpiastri and 873,928 others!

yourusername: and who’s gonna pay attention to the redheads of the world?

pic credits: some kid named oscar??

view comments below!

user46: OKAY OKAY OKAY

user47: ugh you look so good 😔

user48: OSCAR IN THE CAPTION ??? WE ARE SO BACK!!!

user49: happy birthday queen!!

user50: happy birthday 🧡🧡

user51: oscar and y/n hard launch when???

oscarpiastri: ME I’LL PAY ATTENTION TO THE REDHEADS OF THE WOLRD!!! I WILL!!

user52: okay oscar let’s calm down..

user53: oh he’s down bad

user54: who needs more confirmation then THIS??

liked by maxverstappen1, mclaren, landonorris, and 873,928 others!

oscarpiastri: happy birthday to my best friend, and the most beautiful lady in the world 🧡

view comments below!

landonorris: bestfriend?

landonorris: oh okay

landonorris: cool cool cool

landonorris: yeah that’s chill

landonorris: totally NOT going to brust out into tears rn

landonorris: hahaha

landonorris: that would be stupid

landonorris: cool cool cool

landonorris: okay okay okay

landonorris: i set you two up and you just completely forget about me huh

landonorris: wow i can’t believe this

landonorris; i’m going to die alone

landonorris; alone and sad

landonorris: FUCK YOU GUYS

user55: let’s all just move pass lando having a mental breakdown…

[carlthecloaked]

Wrong Number, Right Person

tried writing something after a while :3| 1.3k words | no cw |

|chapter 2|

Steve was pissed.

This date was not working out. At all.

He thought he was going out with this sweet guy from California. At least, that’s what his Tinder profile had made it seem like. But clearly, he had been very wrong.

Where would he even start?

First of all, the guy wouldn’t shut up about his ex.

Like, she sounded great and all, but maybe don’t talk about her the entire time we’re on a date?

Secondly, he wasn’t even listening to what Steve was saying. Half the time, he was scrolling through Instagram, looking at his ex's profile. Laughing at whatever post he was looking at, or he was texting someone else.

Third—and perhaps the worst part—the guy had the personality of a wet sock. Zero energy. No conversation skills. Just dull. Clearly not the charming, funny guy he’d seemed to be over text.

Steve sighed internally. Guess that was his fault for believing his Tinder profile was real.

And then, as if the date wasn’t already bad enough—

“So, are we going to your place or mine? "

Steve barely stopped himself from gaping. He forced a polite smile instead, setting down his drink.

“Yeah, I don’t think this is working out,” he said smoothly, placing his half of the bill on the table. “I have to go.”

The guy blinked, as if he hadn’t just bombed the entire date.

“But wait—”

Steve walked fast out of the cafe, he had to get out of there quickly.

“Ugh, that was the worst. I have to go tell Robin.”

While walking to the subway, he winced as he opened his backup phone. It wasn't as good as his currently broken phone. He totally didn't drop it in the toilet. Nope, that never happened.

He sighed, scrolling through his messages. He still hadn’t updated his contacts, so every number looked unfamiliar. Normally, he’d recognize Robin’s name instantly, but now? It was just random numbers.

He just figured he would text the most recent number, It'll probably be fine.

Steve: WORST date ever. like worst ever. robs i swear to god i wish i could turn back time and never swiped right on him at all. if you ever see me texting him again, throw a microwave at me

Unknown Number: any personal preference or do i just chuck it at you

Steve: chuck it

Steve: robbie i swear it was SO bad

Unknown Number: oh i didn't realize you'd actually think i was your friend

Unknown Number: uh yeah so this is not robbie

Oh. Steve blinked at his phone.

Huh.

That was… unexpected. But not bad, necessarily. Just—Huh.

He stared at the message for a second longer before shaking his head, exhaling through his nose. This was fine. Totally fine.

Steve: oh god

Steve: i'm so sorry wrong number

Unknown Number: it's fine lol

Unknown Number: but how bad was it though, like on a scale of “awkward as hell” to “can the ground swallow me whole?”

Steve hesitated.

He shouldn’t keep talking. He should just apologize again and move on.

But… what else was he doing today?

Steve: definitely “can the ground swallow me whole?” territory

Unknown Number: okay now i'm definitely invested. spill the tea

Steve: dude. he kept on going on and on about his ex, i swear it went on for 30 minutes. THIRTY. MINUTES.

Unknown Number: 🚩🚩🚩 IMMEDIATE red flag, redder than the color red

Steve: RIGHT??? and when he finally stopped he just kept scrolling on his phone

Steve: he was stalking her insta too 😭

Unknown Number: are you fr???

Steve: i wish i was lying but nope

Steve: then when i tried talking about literally anything else other than his ex he’d just respond with “yeah” or “whatever”

Unknown Number: what does that even mean??????

Steve: i have literally no idea

Steve: he even had the NERVE to ask if we would go to his place or mine

Unknown Number: the AUDACITY. the sheer unhinged delusion. did he think he was charming?????

Steve: LMAO stop i can't💀

Unknown Number: i bet he thought you 'd swoon bat your eyelashes and say “oh my god, yes! let's go to another place where you can pretend i'm not there!”

Steve lips curled at the stranger’s response before replying back

Steve: honestly i wouldn't be surprised if he thought that i should be grateful for his presence

Unknown Number: i can't believe you suffered through that

Unknown Number: no wait, you didn't suffer. you endured and you survived. for that you deserve an award. a dramatic opera performance

Steve: i hate how funny you are

Steve grins at his phone.

Unknown Number: you can repay me by continued conversation ;)

Steve: okay but you have to say who you are though

Steve: please don't tell me this is my professor🙏

Unknown Number: lol no definitely not your professor

Unknown Number: but i kinda want to keep it secret now, adds to my mysterious aura

Steve: no hints? :(

Unknown Number: i have hair

Steve: wow that really narrows it down. i totally know who you are.

Unknown Number: good luck finding it out ;)

Steve tilted his head, amused.

There was a pause.

Steve stared at his phone for a second, drumming his fingers against the back of it. He wasn’t sure why, but something about this felt… different. Not bad, just—unexpected.

He should probably just let it go. It wasn’t like it mattered who this guy was, right?

Still.

Steve: so are you gonna give me a real hint or do i just have to suffer

Unknown Number: hmm. suffer sounds fun

Steve let out a small, incredulous laugh, shaking his head. Great. Just his luck to end up texting someone who enjoyed messing with him.

And, okay. Maybe he didn’t mind that much.

The subway car jolted slightly as it began to slow, Steve barely looked up from his phone, used to the way the train moved as it went into the station. The train came to a stop, the doors opening with a mechanical chime, letting in the sound of city noise and passengers.

He stood up getting out and walking to his and Robin’s apartment nearby, glancing at his phone occasionally to check if the stranger texted again.

Steve barely had the door open before Robin’s voice rang out from the couch.

“Finally! What took you so long? Did the date go well?”

Steve groaned, kicking off his shoes and collapsing onto the couch next to her.

“You have no idea. I swear to God, worst date ever.”

Robin gasped dramatically, “Worse than the girl who ordered an expensive meal and made you pay?”

“Way worse”

“Way worse than the one who left you at the bar for three hours?”

“Robin.”

“Okay, okay tell me everything.”

Steve launched into the whole story, how the guy wouldn’t stop talking about his ex, stalking his ex’s instagram, the dry-ass responses and the sheer audacity of asking if they were going to his place or their shared apartment.

“That’s tragic Steve, how are you so unlucky at this?”

“I have no idea man, I guess I just attract weird people.”

“Why didn’t you text me?”

Steve suddenly sat up, remembering. “Oh, speaking of.”

Robin narrowed her eyes.

“So, uh I may or may not have accidentally texted a stranger about it.”

Robin grinned in amusement. “What?”

“I thought it was you!” Steve said defensively. “I haven’t updated my contacts on this phone yet, and I just picked the most recent number in the list.”

Robin stared. “Wait. Hold on. You had a whole conversation with a stranger instead of asking who they were like a normal person?”

Steve shrugged. “They were funny.”

Robin gasped again, dramatically. “Oh my god. You like them.”

“What? No. I dont even know who they are!”

“But you want to”

Steve opened his mouth to reply, then closed it.

Robin grinned, throwing a pillow at him. “You absolute idiot. We’re figuring this out right now.

Steve caught the pillow. “Fine. But if this turns into some embarrassing rom-com nonsense I’m blaming you.”

“Oh it’s already a rom-com, Stevie. You just don’t know it yet.”

Steve sighed, but smiled anyway.

Maybe he did want to know.

[writingwisterias]

Do you think you could write pornstar!leon x reader? I’m not in any rush, I just needed to get this idea out

I was thinking older Leon (40s-60s) x college student reader (early 20s at the youngest)

He’s been retired for quite a while, but you stumbled onto his old videos somehow, and you’re obsessed with them. I’m imagining he did them when he was a little older for one reason or another but he stopped. Maybe an erectile problem or he got bored of it. Or something entirely different, it’s up to you.

Then you meet him somehow, one thing leads to another and you’re fucking your favorite ex-pornstar <3

I don’t have anything else in mind, maybe a little good old cunnilingus and something about how the guys your age don’t know how to treat someone right. I don’t know I just needed to share this.

I'VE BEEN WAITING FOR THIS ONE!! I really hope you enjoy because I've had the idea for so long and you have provided the best opportunity for it!!

Warnings: SMUT, MNDI, Basically Porn, Dom Leon, Age-Gap, Sub Reader, Drinking, Rough sex, Light Degradation Kink, Praise Kink, Filming, Unprotected Sex, Masturbation, Erectile dysfunction, implied sex addicts Words: 4.3k

Thank you Two n Eva for letting me ramble constantly again...and Shy for beta readings ily all (ignore me adding tags when I remember them it's late for me shh)

Part 2

It shouldn't be this hard. It’s not like he hasn’t done it a thousand times already. The method was simple, he could even use his own videos for reference if he wanted to. Leon squeezed the base yet again, willing the damn thing to even just twitch. It didn’t matter what he did anymore, his days of pleasure seemed to come to an end. The viagra that remained unopened in the bedside table was becoming tempting but that was a last resort, a pathetic one at that. It made him feel old to admit defeat like he’s lost his glory days.

Leon squeezed the base again, the pads of his fingers running along his sack. The stimulation gave him something, a small twitch barely noticeable with his dick in his tight grip. Yet, it was something, the only proof that it still had some energy left in the damn thing. 

The tip was pink and sad staring at him from where he looked down on it. No longer was it that angry red colour, spewing out dribbles of pre cum eagerly. That’s why the fans liked him, he was messy. If only they could see him now, see this pathetic sight. His page remained bare, the last video posted almost a year ago now. 

Not that it mattered, he had enough money from the ones he made because instead of turning it into some production he kept the shitty quality of his phone as it seemed enough for the majority. Well, at least he’s never read any complaint about it. 

One more try, that’s what he would do, before either giving up or going for that drawer. His thumb brushed over the tip before he rolled it back. The roughness of his thumb is the perfect contrast to the sensitive skin. He could feel the slick form, a pathetic watery substance that would be no good for a film. With his hand still doing the motion Leon looked to the ceiling with a sigh, something that he did out of boredom didn’t even help him now. Years of abusing the rush of pleasure and his multiple orgasms a night have finally stabbed him in the back. His eyes flicked to the tv, the pictures lighting up the dark room. Never stopping the work on his flaccid cock as he prayed eventually it might spring to life. 

Surely it was unhealthy to be obsessed with a guy like this, to watch the shitty pornhub videos he posted nearly every night like they were some bedtime programme. The cumshots, whimpers and moans all send shockwaves down to your core, the puffy nerve working quickly to ensure you know it's neediness. His face card was lethal, hair falling over his eyes that were lined with a dark look. It was all too tempting…arousing. Every night you found yourself in the same position, legs spread as wide as you could get them as your fingers circled your clit in teasingly slow motions whilst you watched the video on your laptop. Your pussy stuffed with the largest dildo you could find online. Always ensuring that you match the same pace of his actions. He never said anything, his groans were enough for you. The deep raspy tone was engraved in your every thought at this point, you were surprised it hadn’t turned into your inner monologue. 

You watched his dick twitch in his hands, his hips buckling slightly, all signs that you had learnt was him nearing his end. You worked harder, moving the dildo deeper and slower just like his hips were moving. A punishing brutal pace with the soul goal of his own pleasure. The coil tightened, a thread ready to snap as the minutes of the videos counted down. 

How many times have you done it tonight? 

You poor clit abused, white hot pleasure searing through your system as your nerves set on fire. Your thighs clamping around both of your hands as you orgasm. The slick flooding out from between your fingers as your brain settles into the right mode to sleep. The fuzziness lingering like a drug. An addiction. 

You watched with half-closed eyes and short breaths as he showed off the mess he made across the expanse of his abs. Giving off a subtle wink to the camera before it finally stopped. The date of the post made you frown, it was the most recent one…posted almost a year ago. You couldn’t help the thought’s circling about his life now. Wondering if he would ever post again. Maybe he has kids now, a wife, someone to spoil all the money he earned on.

The parasocial relationship you had formed with him was wrong and a stupid thing to cling onto. You were sure to be the only activity on his page anymore; there was definitely no one else was this insane to choose only one pornstar to get off to. Let alone the one who hasn’t posted anything recently. His videos were always more like a home video, shitty quality, barely audible, it really wouldn’t surprise you if he filmed them on a camcorder. 

You weren’t even sure if any other dick would get you off at this point – not that you had anything other than the dildo to use. Though, if you did manage to bring someone home, you suppose you could beg for them to quiet as you closed your eyes to imagine him. The thought caused embarrassment to settle in your stomach, the sex addict he had made you become was shameful at least that's what you had been raised to believe. 

A woman shouldn’t be this in tune and free with her sexual side, it was always wrong according to your parents. Your sexuality was something for a man to explore and take only for himself. It wasn’t for you, it shouldn’t be pleasurable for you. If your friends knew, they would also shame you for this. They didn’t need anymore fuel for how lonely you were, your search history would surely traumatise them. 

Your eyes flicked down to the corner of your laptop, blinking away the tears that lingered in your waterline, to see the time. 30 minutes to get ready before you leave for drinks with your friends. To see the indie rock band that was playing tonight, your friend's boyfriend, the lead singer. You had no idea why that meant you had to go, though the promise of their bar tab convinced you. There was no hope in going home with someone, never was anymore. All the old fucks that lined the seats of that took away the eyecandy you were looking for and if you did find them…well even you knew that you deserved better than some small dick looking for a quicky.  

Your outfit was simple and comfortable. The jeans hugging you perfectly, the top low cut enough to show off the girls that were definitely co-operating tonight for a change. Their perkiness was evident in every step you took towards the bar, holding your arms around yourself to fight off the lingering cold in the air. You wafted through the cloud of second hand smoke, breathing the scent in deeply allowing it to settle in your lungs. Old habits never strayed too far from reach you suppose. 

The music vibrated through the floor, bodies bumping into as you made your way to the stage. Your friend greeted you with a large smile, her eyes sparkling with joy as she glanced back at her boyfriend. Their relationship was sweet, full of honeymoon type of love and appreciation. You envied them, that somehow in this crap world they managed to find a sweet relationship. You weren’t built for that, not when you were here at this moment and all you could think about was returning home and dealing with the pulsing need in your underwear. 

A drink was shoved in your hand, one from her ‘to loosen you up a bit’ apparently. You looked too tense, ridgid for someone that was here to have fun and enjoy the moment. The neat whiskey burned on the way down, settling somewhere deep in your chest. It warmed you, distracted you; both were welcomed in this scenario. “Is everything alright tonight? You’re like a wooden doll” Your friend laughed as she walked you over to the bar. Her grip was at least grounding, stopping the internal fire blazing inside you. “Yeah I’m good, just a rough day” 

“Good job you’re here then” she laughed, handing you another drink. You watched the amber liquid swirl, the condensation running down the sides of glass reminding you too much of him. Of the scenes you have watched over and over again. She waved her hand in front of your face, breaking the trance you had on the droplets. “Are you sure you are okay?” 

How could you tell her that you were itching to return home? To lay in your soft sheets and watch him. Your skin burned – desire running through you constantly. You couldn’t do anything about it, everything reminded you of him. 

“Drink to forget?” You responded, smiling weakly at your friend. Hers only grew a wild look in her eye before calling a round of shots, bringing you into a side hug whilst giggling. It definitely worked. Your body felt lighter, happier. That burning desire now muted until you at least got home. Your hips swaying with hers, smiles and laughter filling the bubble you had formed around yourselves.

It was your turn to collect the next round of drinks, your shoes dragged across the floor, boots scuffing against the things that had fallen out of people's pockets. Barely avoiding people's elbows as you passed them. You attempted to avoid looking at the couples pressed against the walls, their lips locking onto each other in a heated exchange of passion. Thankfully their moans are muted by the volume of the guitar. 

Yet, you froze in place as your eyes fell upon the slumped figure at the bar. You tried blinking away the drunken haze, the one that blurred with the lights of the bar whilst you observed every curve of the muscle he bore, the nose bridge…hands wrapped around the beer bottle. It couldn’t be. No you weren’t that unlucky and lucky at the same time. Not when you were finally forgetting about him tonight, about the fantasies and daydreams over what he would be like. 

His head lifted as his eyes scanned over the pool of people dancing, the flashing lights blurring their movements. Except for yours because you were still stationary like an idiot, looking right at him. He observed your form as you finally finished the journey to the bar and ordered a large cocktail topped with ice and a glazed cherry. Leon's eyes ran over your chest as you leant against the bar. Your chest was moving slowly and deeply like you were trying to calm yourself. Your nails are scratching at the rings of alcohol that were left on it that your focus now remained on. He couldn’t approach you like he would have in the past, the obvious age gap didn’t bother him. Your youthful skin would feel heavenly under his calloused fingertips. No, the lack of the twitch in his trousers as he perved on you was a reminder that after his failed attempt earlier to get this shit to work before he gave up and dragged himself here. At least the band playing tonight was actually decent. For once.

He never looked away, not once. Not even as people filtered in front of his line of sight. Everytime you allowed your eyes to drift over to him, he was still watching; taking slow sips of the beer he was nursing. The temperature of the drink cooled your skin as you took it from the bartender, savouring the liquid encouragement as you sipped on it. The cherry cola cocktail settled better than the whiskey you had drank earlier. It was dangerous mixing your drinks, each drink adding to the tipsy haze you bore. The cherry was sweet as you slipped it into your mouth. The vodka infused with it makes you smile. 

Leon couldn’t pull his eyes away if he wanted to, not as you drank. Your neck looked perfect as you extended it whilst lifting the glass, your lips curving into a smile as you chewed on the alcoholic cherry. He licked his lips as he watched, almost trying to imagine which part of your neck would be the most sensitive spot to suck one. Which spot would force you to sing perfectly to him? Would it taste like sweat and perfume as he kissed your neck? Or remain flavorless like all the girls he was with before. 

You smiled when your eyes finally met again, a big toothy grin that proudly displayed the cherry stem from between your lips. 

Perfectly tied. 

It was only then he felt the throb, the one he's craved to feel for over a year. His cock quickly worked its way to a semi as he watched you saunter over. Your perfume filled his senses as you slid into the chair next to him. His suspicions on what you would taste like as it smelled expensive. Moving to sit with him was a bold move on your behalf but with the liquid encouragement flowing through your system you just decided to run with it. If this worked, you would be a fool to waste this chance. You simply place the stem on the bar in front of him, now glaringly obvious you were skilled with your tongue. 

“Where did you learn how to do that?” He chuckled. His blue eyes now bore that dark look underneath the strands of hair that fell over his face. Leon leaned back in the stool, his chest turned towards you. The shirt was tight, straining against him as he moved showcasing everything you knew lies beneath. “Research, thought it would be a useful skill to learn” You teased, your body subconsciously leaning towards him. His deep musk hit your senses, the linger smell of the beer in the air he exhaled. It was intoxicating, just as you imagined it would be. 

“You always do this?” He asked again, the green bottle putting some distance between the two of you as he sipped on it again. The condensation ran over his fingers as he raised it. Leon smirked against the rim of the bottle as he watched your eyes flick over his hand. “Only with guys that eye fuck me across the bar” You retorted, blinking slightly as you looked back towards his eyes. He hummed deeply, considering his next actions which were largely influenced by the throb of his cock. “How often does that happen?” 

“Calling me pretty?” 

Leon chuckled, finally leaning forward into your space. His hand landed on your thigh, squeezing it lightly. “I’d be lying if I said you weren’t” 

You scanned his face, breath faltering at his closeness. Everything faded to the background, you forgot where you were, why you were here. All gone as you savoured the addiction of his smell, the curve of his features now they were close enough. You wanted to whimper his name, kiss his lips until they puffed up more. Leon smiled as your tongue darted out between your lips, licking them slightly. Your saliva creates the perfect gloss across them, making them even more tempting. 

As soon as your lips met you melted. Your hands found the inner curve of his thigh as you moved closer, leaning into him for support. The passion was addictive as the kiss grew heated, his touch set you on fire as his hand cupped your jaw possessively. When he finally pulled away, he laughed as you chased after him. “Your place or mine?” 

“Yours” 

His hand was larger than yours as he pulled you along with him out of the bar. The cloud of smoke greeted you again, settling deeply in your system as you both waited for the cab. His lips were upon you again, chasing the growing erection in his trousers. The one that was now becoming painfully hard, not that he would argue. He grinned into your lips, held you closer letting you feel it against your stomach. Feel the want, need, hunger he had for you. 

The cab ride continued the heated exchange and wandering hands as he cupped your body, fingers rubbing over your peaked nipples through the fabric of your shirt. You almost felt bad for the driver…almost. Never would you have expected him to be so needy. To seem like he wanted this just as much as you. Not with his extensive collection of media anyway, surely you were just another fuck and you should be pawning over him more than he was over you. 

The door slammed shut behind the two of you, both immediately toeing off your shoes without breaking the kiss. He leads you further inside, his hands stripping clothes like a trail. Leading all the way to the infamous room, the bed with sheets that smelled like him. That collected everything he proudly showed off in his media. He was painfully hard now, his cock tenting obviously in his underwear as he pushed you on the edge of the bed. 

Leon’s cheeks were flushed, his chest heaving as he stared down at you. The black lace that decorated your body, hiding the things he wanted to taste and feel the most from view. You were magic, a drug to him. Lust finally only filled his senses as his cock twitched against the fabric. No longer was it pathetic and weak like earlier. Fuck he felt great, alive again…

You removed your bra, displaying the perfect peaks to him as you stretched your arms above your chest. He licked his lips, watching them bounce with your movements. Grinning as you laid back against the bed, lifting your hips to remove the underwear that covered your sex. Proudly displaying the weeping mess to him, as a juicy dessert for him to devour if he pleased. 

The whine that left your lips was embarrassing as he pulled his boxers down. You were greeted with a live viewing of his leaking tip, the substance no longer that pathetic watery mess he produced recently. You finally got him working again. You moved up the bed as he hovered over you, smiling as you were surrounded by every sense of him. The giddiness of your dreams peaking through. As he began to rub his cock through the wetness of your folds you couldn’t help but moan. The syllables of his name were drawn out as he teased your clit with his tip. 

But he hadn’t told you his name. 

His hands grasped your cheeks tightly, bringing your eyes back to him with a widened stare. “What did you say?” He demanded. You looked up at him dumbfounded, your brain scrambling for an excuse that would stop the flood of embarrassment. “How do you know my name?” He continued, his grip loosening as he stared down at you. His cock twitching at your entrance. It was all too arousing. 

“Y-your videos…” You sputtered out, hips pathetically lifting from the bed to continue the feeling of his movements earlier. Your stomach tightening as a sly grin began to form on his face. “What a little whore I’ve found…a fan of mine hm? Wanted to get a feel of this?” 

He emphasised the question by notching his tip at your entrance, feeling the tight hole clench and twitch around it. “Y-yes” You admitted, eyes never leaving him. Leon pulled back, his thighs moving underneath yours as he reached over for his phone. Left abandoned on the side earlier in the night. It didn’t take him long to find what he’s looking for. The extensive list of his filmography highlighting your features as he turned the device towards you. “Which ones are your favourite then, sweetheart?” He chuckled. 

The question was a hard one to answer if it had been asked by anyone in general, but now he was asking it? You felt the pressure, the shame of having to admit which one you touched yourself to the most, the one that made you the wettest. “This one” You whispered, clicking on it. Only to then be met with the shlick sounds of him rubbing himself. The tip appeared and disappeared between his fists in a rapid motion, unlike the speed he was now teasing you with. “You liked watching me get myself off, pumping this hard throbbing cock towards the camera?” 

You responded with a nod, hiding your features in the bedding beside you. No he wouldn’t let you do that. Not when his cock was practically screaming to be sheathed inside your warmth. To feel your perfectly aroused pussy throb around him. He stopped his movements, the sound of the video barely audible over your panting. 

Leon gripped at your face again, guiding you to look at him. “Such a dirty girl you are” He teased as he finally pressed himself into you. His own noises became pathetic whimpers as he finally felt himself be surrounded by his addiction, finally giving into the craving after his body forced him to go cold turkey from. He didn’t need the meds that still lied in the drawer next to you, not when your perky breasts moved against his chest. The nipples peaked and sensitive as the movements forced moans out of you. His name was heaven on your lips, the perfect melody. 

You didn’t notice that Leon had now leaned back again, not when he was assaulting you with the perfect amount of pleasure. His hips moving in a slow grind, hitting that spongy spot deep inside of you. There was no point holding back your moans, not when you felt his cock throb inside you at every one. You felt the puffy vein you always wanted to trace with your tongue running along inside you, his cock barely existing before he drove it back.Then you heard the beep of his phone camera recording and his deep chuckle. 

“What a lucky fan you are” he spoke, the camera aimed at the action of him entering and leaving. 

“Be a good girl and hold this steady, yeah?” He instructed, angling the camera in your hands for the perfect view of him drilling into you. The change of pace was intense with how sudden it was, the rhythm soon becoming the perfect thing you needed as the coil quickly tightened up. However, Leon wasn’t aiming for your release, only his own. You began to move against him, squirming away as you lingered on the edge of overstimulation. 

“Hold it steady now” 

Leon groaned at your whine, at each clench you lovingly offered him. His hand held yours, angling the camera back at the money shot where his cock drove into you. Removing his cock only once to circle your clit with the tip. Finally now angry and red again for the camera, weeping his pre all over your untouched skin. He was making a mess of you, a glorious one. The pleasure was perfect as he chased his own. His hips moved faster and faster until they became a bruising pace.

He looked perfectly like this, hovering about you. It was everything you ever imagined and thought of during the day. His eyes remained screwed shut as he took in what he craved. “Fucking perfect” he grunted. He never spoke in his videos, only producing his grunts and moans. This was a first…a first for a lot of things. 

The most important one being his first orgasm in a year. He never released he needed a younger pussy, a perfectly neat one for him to abuse and ruin with the size of him. To mould it for only him and no one else. He sucked against your skin, nipping at your breasts, releasing them with a loud pop. “Fucking hell…” 

You felt his hips buck harshly, a groan leaving his lips…the signs of his release. You moaned his name again as his finger toyed with your clit. The muscles of your tights twitching as you finally orgasmed with a desperate whine. You felt like you were on cloud nine, with the added tipsiness of the bar earlier. Leon continued to assault you through it, the fuzziness of the evening blending together as all his blood rushed south. He pulled out of you, aiming his cock towards the phone and was still angled at the action. With a few harsh pumps, his load came spurting out coating your body in his translucent substance. 

Your chests heaved as you stared at each other with lust blown eyes. The post orgasm status settling in. Regret from either of you nowhere to be found, only the neediness and desire for another round. 

It wasn’t until a few days later you got the text from him. Opting to not contact him first in fear of looking even more like a crazed fan. Despite the fact he wanted to keep in contact. You must have been a pretty good fuck then. The thought offered a light ego boost for a few days at least. To Leon you were perfect, his cock constantly throbbing to life now he had the crappy video on his phone but he wasn’t selfish. It was only fair that you got to see your side of the action, to witness the pornographic moment of that night. Which you helped create. 

‘Did you see the video?’ 

Confused, you checked his page, waiting for the small circle to stop spinning in the corner of your laptop. The title made you blush, the throbbing need that had been satiated for the past few days rushing back quickly. 

SHY FREAK GETS FUCKED BY HER IDOL 

[youryanderedaddy]

Summary: You run into your snobby ex boyfriend after a drunken party. Things go south from there. tw: female reader, hinted murder, possessive behavior, condescension, financial(?) abuse, classism

You know this is a stupid, stupid idea. Going home at God knows what time in the pitch black is never a good idea, you think drowsily, head still spinning from the last beer, but even more so when you're tired, pissed off and tipsy. You're freezing, naked shoulders wet from the chilly midnight rain - but instead of soft damp linden, you smell molden concrete and metal. You fucking hate this city. You hate the stupid, flashy, obnoxious parties for rich people, and this shitty university in the middle of nowhere, and even the scholarship that forced you into close proximity with the freakish upper class of east New Hemptison.

"Baby!" A familiar voice sinks into the muddy darkness and you have to physically restrain yourself from emptying your stomach right there on the street - and knowing your neighbours, you'd have to clean it after too. His steps fasten and soon you feel his hand gripping your shoulder to turn you around. Standing before you, glistening just like some prince from a fairy tale, is everything you despise about this town. The fact that he's perfectly prim and proper despite the pounding rain, that his teeth seem almost pearly white in the dark, that his hair is crisp and slicked away tastefully, that even now he's wearing a fucking Armani shirt with the cheesiest pair of jeans (ones you could never afford) - it makes you want to crawl back to the cave you came from, two continents away, and never look back.

"Baby, where have you been?" He sounds terribly concerned as he pulls your shivering body in for a tight bear hug, running his hands through your absolutely soaked hair - murmuring something incomprehensible to your drunken mind. "I was worried sick, missy." His voice drops slightly, but it's all for show. He's playing the part of the good boyfriend, like always - and you fell for it once, you did, but you know better now. "I called you, like, sixty eight times. And nothing." He swallows, big hands trembling around you. "Just radio silence. I thought something bad happened to y-"

"Oh, f-uucking beat it." Your patience finally snaps and you push him off swiftly, barely contained anger starting to resurface again. Today was supposed to be about you, about healing, about feeling better, but just your luck - the very problem had found you, just like always. No matter where you go, your troubles follow. "You know what you did, asshole. Don't you d-aare play innocent with m-me." You hiss drunkenly, stumbling all over your words before hitting the wall all on your own. Mathew, of course, doesn't waste the oppurtunity to get closer to you - just so he can help you regain your balance, of course. The golden boy of Saint Hemptison would never take advantage of an intoxicated girl - much less his ex girlfriend who he's still hopelessly in love with, supposedly. Right.

"Baby, please, you're drunk - you're not making any sense." The man whispers softly, placing his hand at your hip. "Let's go to the penthouse. We can talk about this in the morning when you are more aware of your thoughts."

When you're more aware of your thoughts? You almost laugh. It's quite bittersweet when it hits you that he doesn't respect you even now - maybe he never has in the duration of your miserable relationshop, that in his eyes you'll always be the poor girl in need of a white knight. Just a little trophy to show off, if a bit broken in certain spots.

"I am not going anywhere with you." You mumble, trying to calm down - to appear cold and collected, the complete opposite of what he wants you to be. "Look, I know that you're mad at me, babygirl, but I'm sure your little temper tantrum can wait until tomorrow. You know I don't like this neighbourhood. Let me take you to a safe place for the night, okay?" He reaches for your hand again, but this time you swat it away in fury.

"Who are you to act so worried about me, huh?" You can hear your voice breaking as the tears prick at your eyes - hot and shameful. Crying in front of him is the last thing you want to do, but god, it's so hard not to when this whole night has been a disaster after a disaster. You're truly at your wits' end. "After what you did? You are truly shameless." You squeal, and admittedly, it feels fucking great to finally say it.

Your former lover's face twists into an unrecognizable grimace as he watches you tear into his heart with ease - and as you turn to leave, he grabs your wrist painfully. This time something is different about his eyes - they're not longer smiling. Now they're two bottomless gray pits devoid of kindness, the same eyes you saw the night of the accident as he caressed your cold cheek with bloody knuckles.

"And what did I do, love? Hm?" He tilts your chin up by squeezing your throat, forcing you to meet his eerie gaze. Suddenly all your tipsy bravado evaporates into thin air. "Please, refresh my memory. I really can't recall the events of the past two weeks - since you've been avoiding me and all..." His fingers dig into your skin and you wince just like a kicked puppy - but he doesn't bulge an inch. Suddenly everything comes flooding back - the touches you convinced yourself were sensual, not possesive, the glances you once thought of as romantic, the constant interrogations, the strange emails, the cryptic calls, the dead roses at your door. "I couldn't sleep - or eat for that matter. I am half a man without you. I lose myself completely."

It all makes sense now. You feel like crying, because it's so crystal clear... and you've been a willing fool. You had closed your eyes, because it was easier to lie than to accept the truth bubbling just under his surface - under the dimples and the smiles, and the hundred jewelry boxes still lying unopened under your bed.

"You - you killed him! You monster!" You gasp, unable to stop your lips from uttering the lethal. You thrash around to no avail, you're stuck. "How could you? Jack was your friend!" You hide your face in the crook of his neck to stop the sobs, too scared to look at the crazed man holding you. He simply rolls his eyes, letting you soak his shirt with your pretty tears. "Don't be so dramatic - it's just some broken bones. He'll be fine... as long as he stays away from my things."

You raise your head shakily - you're drowning between hatred, fear and misery. The adrenaline is making you even more disoriented than the liquor percentage in your bloodstream.

"I am not a fucking thing for you to-" You hiccup, growing woozy as you hit weakly against his chest. The corners of his lips curl up slightly as he chuckles at the pitiful display. "For you to just own!" You keep going, cheeks purple from pent up fury - there's something tearing at your insides like you want to scream, you need it to come out, but you find yourself unable to push it off your flesh like it's been ingrained with glue and a shovel.

"You're wrong, baby. I do own you." Mathew says with the sweetest, softest voice you've heard in your life, sugary and bitter like poisonous honey. "Let's say you want to break up-"

"We already broke u-"

His eyes pierce you mid-sentence. You quickly close your mouth.

"Let's say," He repeats through gritted teeth, holding you so tightly you might just merge into one being. "That you want to break up with me." He inhales deeply, nostrils flaring. "Hypothetically. Then what? You have no place to live. I know you're staying at that shithole of a hotel down the street right now - it's filthier than a brothel, no?"

You want to say something - to argue, to scream. To tell him that he's being a rich, condescending asshole again, that you like the hotel - despite the mold and the cockroaches and the way there never seems to be hot water. Despite having to lock your door four times so you don't get assaulted in your sleep.

You say nothing.

"You don't have to confirm it. My agent tracked you down a week ago. Whatever - you'll run out of money in, approximately, 9 days." He smirks maliciously, with unhidden spite - just like a little devil. "Then what? You don't even have an address. And you know the city hall will take their sweet fucking time to help you register - if they don't make you pay a fine first." He strokes your chin cruelly. "We both know just how much they care about clueless little foreigners with less than a penny to their name." He whispers, twisting the dagger in. "Hell, they may even cut your scholarship. And. then. what." Your ex pronounces each word slowly - making sure you can understand it, feel it - fear it.

You imagine your family back at home. You can hear their voices over the phone, your mom smiling as you tell her about your day, your father asking you what you plan to do after college - whether you will still remember them, whether you'd take care of them once they have nothing left, since you took everything with you. The money, the hopes, the happiness...

"F-fuck you..." You whimper faintly, falling against him. You feel defeated, and the sharp words are all you have left. "Why are you doing this to me?" You mumble to yourself, suddenly feeling drained to the very bone. The man begins stroking your hair as he rocks you gently to the side. "Because I love you." He slowly kisses down your neck. "Because I'm the only one in this city who gives a fuck about you, and-" You can feel his smile against your burning cheek. "Because you're mine."

[farfromharry]

back together and it feels so good

Summary: You and Lando broke up because of his gruelling schedule, but at a friend’s birthday one night the two of you are brought together again and feelings are spilled. Were you always meant to be together?

w/c 3026

Lando Norris x Reader

a/n clearly i cant write small blurbs anymore lol, reblogs are everything <3

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Your breakup with Lando was mutual… sorta. Clashing schedules meant you rarely got time to be together and too many rumours surrounding him were making you paranoid. Lonely and fearful were no way to be in a relationship. So you ended things and promised to stay friends. He understood. His lifestyle was… different than most. He couldn’t expect you to wait for him all the time. It wasn’t fair. There was no bad blood. There was certainly awkward tension though.

You were in the same friend group, so it was no surprise when you had to see each other all the time. The last thing you expected was to still feel that flutter in your chest when you saw him.

Max’s birthday party was the next event coming up and you were dreading it. He had the whole thing planned out. A fancy dinner with the group of you, followed by a night out at one of London’s most prestigious clubs. You didn’t think you, alcohol and a confined space were going to mix well with the ex you were trying to get over.

Obviously you still loved Lando, you were reminded of that every time you saw his face or someone mentioned his name. He was Lando, he was hard not to love. How were you ever supposed to get over him if all you did was spend time with him?

So, your plan was to try and get out of going to Max’s party. It was a shitty thing to do as a friend and he would probably see through you right away, but it was worth a try.

You tried to play the sick card. The morning of the party you called him, preparing yourself to perform the best acting of your life.

He picked up on the 3rd ring. “Hello?”

You sniffled. “Max, hi. Look, bad news.” Cough. Cough. “I’m really ill, I don’t think I’m going to be able to come tonight.”

There was silence on the other end. For a minute you thought he’d hung up on you. You even pulled your phone away from your ear just to check the call was still connected. When you saw his name still staring at you from the screen, your brow furrowed.

“Max?”

He scoffed. “That’s bullshit. You have to get over this fear of seeing him, Y/N. You’re both acting like children.” He was sick and tired of dealing with both of you. Lando was exactly the same, making excuses to try and get out of any event that would include seeing you. He needed you both to get over whatever this was and realise you were hopelessly in love with each other. Being just friends was never going to work. “You were friends before, you can be friends after. Stop being so selfish.”

It was like a slap to the face. You couldn’t be angry that he was talking to you like this because he was right. You sighed. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

“Thank you. So you’re gonna be there?”

“I’ll be there.”

As soon as the call was over she tossed her phone onto her bed and screamed into her pillow. Tonight was going to be painful. It was mid-scream that Max’s words echoed in her head. You’re both acting like children. Had he already spoken to Lando? Was he saying the same thing? The idea that he might be avoiding you hurt your feelings, even if technically you were doing the same thing. God your love life was so fucked up.

Your heart was in your throat walking into the restaurant. You hoped he hadn’t arrived yet so you could have some liquid courage before he got here.

A table full of your friends was easy to spot, especially considering all the balloons decorating the table, probably there just to embarrass Max.

To your joy, the table was Lando-less for now.

Max grinned at the sight of you. You gave him a quick hug and handed off his present, nothing special. “Glad you could make it.” There was a teasing tone to his voice that made you swat his arm when you stepped back.

“Shut up.”

After saying your hellos to all your other friends that had arrived, you took a seat at the opposite side of the table to the birthday boy. And when the waiter came around you ordered the biggest glass of wine they had. Hopefully by the time your ex arrived you’d be tipsy enough to stand it.

When Lando entered, albeit late like normal, your friends cheered, shouting out things relating to his terrible timekeeping. He rolled his eyes, waving them off and moving to say hello to the birthday boy, offering up his gift also. The two hugged and then the younger man scanned the table for an empty chair. Unfortunately for you, it just so happened to be next to you.

You froze, body tensing and eyes darting to Max as if silently asking if this was his doing. He expertly avoided your gaze but the smirk on his face told you everything you needed to know.

Clearly Lando was having the same reaction. He had no idea how he was supposed to spend the entire dinner sitting by your side without making a fool of himself.

He awkwardly cleared his throat, pulling out the chair and taking the seat with a greeting nod to you. “How have you been, Y/N?” That was probably the first time he’d actually spoken your name in months. He liked to avoid the topic of you wherever possible.

You smiled. “Good. You?”

“Yeah, good.”

Things went silent after that. Awkward. Everyone else around you was already stuck in conversation with someone, probably another one of Max’s doings. So your options were to sit in silence or make uncomfortable conversation with your ex. Weirdly, you chose the latter.

“How’s racing going?” You didn’t need him to tell you. You had watched every race since you broke up, like you always did, but you wouldn’t admit that. It was you who broke up with him, because of racing, you couldn’t let him know that you still took an interest in him.

He frowned, but quickly tried to cover it up with a tight-lipped smile. “It’s okay. Won the first race of the season, doing pretty well.”

“That’s really good.”

Conversation used to flow so easily between you and now everything you said was a dead end. You hated it. It was strange how you can go from being so compatible with someone to not even knowing what to talk about in such a short amount of time. This was your fault. You had messed this whole thing up with him. And sitting here now, you regretted it.

Then the drinks started flowing.

Turns out all it took was a bit of alcohol and you and Lando were back to your old ways. The stories were nostalgic and the inside jokes came back naturally. You couldn’t remember the last time you laughed this hard. Why had you ever given this up?

You were so lost in your giggling with him that you didn’t notice your friends packing up with plans to head to the club next.

“You lovebirds coming?” Max teased.

Lando gave him a middle finger and you simply rolled your eyes. At any other time his comment would have made you angry, but right now you were too joyous (from the alcohol) to care about what he was saying. “We’re coming.”

At some point in the club his hand settled on your lower back, just how it used to, and didn’t move for the rest of the night. He wanted you close, to be touching you. When might he ever get this chance again? He spent the whole night glued to your side.

Around 2am you were officially ready to tap out for the night. Drunk, happy and practically overheating, you decided you were ready for bed.

Rather than calling an Uber you made a beeline for Lando, like you used to. He had been on water for a while, a warning from his trainer when he’d mentioned his best friend’s birthday; don’t get too drunk, was the advice he’d been given. The last thing he wanted was a punishment in the form of extra training, so he would respect Jon’s wishes.

Your arms wrapped around his neck when you were close enough. Logically he should have pushed you away. You weren’t together and you were drunk, he was basically taking advantage. But having your arms around him again felt so nice. He had been longing for it ever since the day you broke up. And you were smiling at him, the kind of smile that made his heart race.

“You having fun?” he asked, smiling right back at you as his hands moved to settle on your waist.

He barely heard you hum, but you did. “Tired. Will you take me home?”

There was no way he would have ever been able to resist the puppy eyes you aimed his way. For a second he could have convinced himself that the 2 of you were still together. It was just like old times.

“Of course.”

In your drunken state you had forgotten to consider that he might have wanted to stay longer, that you were ending his night prematurely. But he hadn’t even hesitated. He didn’t think about himself once.

It was only in the car, with you drunkenly mumbling at his side, that he started to think this might have been a bad idea. He was so in love with you and he was somehow supposed to keep that to himself.

You should have known it was a bad idea letting him take you home, but by that point you’d had far too much to drink to care. You wanted someone comfortable to be with you and that’s exactly what he was. Of course being in a confined space with him was going to bring up feelings you were trying so hard to bury.

You found yourself watching him as he drove, something you used to do a lot when you were together. He was handsome like that, pretty. You couldn’t help admiring him.

He had 4 buttons undone on his shirt and the skin looked enticing. His arms were straining the material and his jaw was clenched, probably to keep himself from saying anything stupid in your presence. It was taking everything in him not to make a love confession right now. With the way you looked tonight, the way you tossed your head back when you laughed, how you swayed to the music in the club, he was surprised he hadn’t done it already.

When he parked the car outside your flat it felt all too soon. This was the most time you had spent together one on one in months, even if you were sitting in silence. You didn’t want it to end yet.

“Do you want to come in for a drink?”

He didn’t look at you, he knew if he did there was no way he would be able to say no. He was trying to find the words to say no, but he didn’t want to.

So he didn’t say anything. He switched off the car, silently giving you the answer you craved so much. You smiled.

The pair of you made the walk up to your apartment like you’d done a thousand times. He couldn’t have possibly forgotten the way, it was basically ingrained in his brain. He used to stay here more than his own flat when he was back in London. He always claimed it was more homey— really he just wanted to spend as much time with you as possible before he had to get back to work.

It wasn’t necessary to ask him what he wanted to drink. You already knew.

You poured yourself and him a drink and then set them on the coffee table wordlessly. For a second you hesitated before sitting down. How close was too close? You didn’t want to get in his space or overstep any unspoken boundaries, but where else were you supposed to go?

“You can sit, Y/N. I’m not gonna bite.”

Your face burned. You were being silly. It was just Lando, the same one you had always known.

Sitting next to him in such close proximity, in a quieter environment just sent your brain haywire. It was barely even a conscious decision to launch yourself into his lap and lock your lips with his.

He was caught off guard but he did briefly kiss you back. Until he realised it was breaking his heart to do it. He pulled back, dropping his head. “We should talk about this,” he sighed. He didn’t want to push you away, but he also wasn’t willing to get his heart broken again. He didn’t have it in him to just be here when you wanted him, he needed you to want him all the time. If he couldn’t have you back 100% then he didn’t want you back. He was doing it to save his own feelings.

The look on your face was one of complete rejection. It made his chest ache. But it had to be done. You cleared your throat, awkwardly climbing out of his lap and sitting beside him again.

Your voice was quiet when you spoke. “Why don’t you want to kiss me?”

The dark haired man sighed. “It’s not that. It’s just… I can’t stop loving you,” he confessed, his voice wavering like he was just a breath away from breaking down. “I’m hung up on you, Y/N, and I can’t let you play around with my feelings because you’re drunk and bored.”

The implication that you may be playing with his feelings stung. You hadn’t meant to intentionally hurt him, not tonight anyway. “I’m not.”

He frowned. “You might not think you are, but-“ He ran his hands over his face in exasperation. This wasn’t a conversation either of you should be having when it was late and you were intoxicated. “What happens after tonight? Do we go back to avoiding each other at social gatherings, or keep having awkward conversations once every 3 months that we both want to escape from?”

It was true. He was making all fair points. All things you hadn’t thought about. “I didn’t mean to.” Your voice was so small and you were practically folding in on yourself to make your stature smaller too. “I just wanted to kiss you. Missed you.”

He smiled sadly. “I know. That’s the worst part.”

You were both silent for a little bit. He was worried that he’d upset you and you were thinking over his words. He had been honest with you and you appreciated that, but now you didn’t know what to do. Your thoughts and your feelings were all over the place.

“Do you ever think about if we didn’t break up?” The words spilled out of your mouth without you even thinking. Of course he would have. He was sitting here telling you this was painful for him and yet you were wondering if he thought about you.

He laughed, but there was no amusement in it. “Every day.” There was a longing look in his eyes when he turned his head your way. He needed you to know he meant every word he was saying. “You’re it for me. I don’t know who I am without you. The day you ended it, I, I didn’t know what to do with myself.”

His words hit you like a ton of bricks. Maybe you had been selfish, too hasty in your decision to end things. You knew what you were signing up for when you agreed to be his girlfriend and yet you acted as though you couldn’t handle it. Lots of people managed to have successful relationships with his fellow drivers or past drivers, things worked for them. Surely there was a way to make it work, something he had begged you to try before you ended it. The longing that had been building in your chest all these months was only growing stronger as you stood here with him.

When you didn’t say anything but grew visibly emotional, he leaned forward. He waited for any sign of rejection before he took a chance and cupped your face with his large hands. He felt it as you leaned into his touch.

“I love you. I don’t want to keep pretending that I don’t.” He was pouring his heart out to you. How were you ever supposed to just walk away?

“Maybe we shouldn’t be friends anymore.”

His face fell. It felt like his heart was being stomped on. “What?” He didn’t truly believe that you could have just stopped loving him that easily. What you had back then was real, wasn’t it? Or was this just your way of ending things before you got too involved again.

“Lando, I think we should try again.”

By the look on his face he was finding it hard to believe the words that had just left your mouth. “Y/N.” If this was a joke, it sure would be an evil one. He didn’t think you were that cruel.

One of your hands came up to settle over his. “I mean it. I was selfish and you probably deserve better than me after ending things like that.” It was true, but he didn’t think that. He wouldn’t want anyone else. “I love you and I will spend however long it takes to make it up to you.”

That sounded like a pretty good plan to him. He probably shouldn’t give in so easily considering the emotions he’d been going through for the past few months, but how was he ever supposed to say no to you? He never could and he probably never would. He finally cracked a smile. “I’m expecting a hell of a lot of grovelling I’ll have you know.”

Your heart fluttered. “No problem.”

Max was totally gonna take credit for this.

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[ozzgin]

WAIT WAIT WAIT!!! I have an ask for Yandere School! What if, Y/N finally did become a yandere for someone, BUT Y/N is the 'never lets on' type of yandere?

There's no change in Y/N's grades, no change in demeanor, they still act- or maybe in this case- pretends to be innocent and oblivious to everyone, especially their crush (Y/N might abuse the fact that they're known as the worst Yandere student who acts more like a Darling, to gain their trust before they realize it's too late). The extreme obsession is there, but it's just not noticeable enough.

How will they react if Y/N shows subtle signs of being a yandere? Will they actually believe Y/N finally became a yandere, or will they have doubts? This is just optional, but imagine Y/N became obsessed with a yandere, but both of them didn't knew they're yandere to each other, so they always unintentionally end up sabotaging each other's plans (ex. both Y/N and the yandere are asleep on the table, because they spiked each other's drinks. The Yandere is genuinely confused and had been trying to stalk find Y/N for hours, unbeknownst to them Y/N is secretly following behind them all along)

Soo this is yet another Clumsy!Yandere crossover, but it just makes a lot of sense to me. Hear me out.

You’re consistently failing classes and struggling to keep up with your peers. Everyone finds it cute, however, and it's a fantastic excuse to get closer to you.

Then the Yandere School x Darling Academy event happens. You immediately take the initiative and pair up with your best friend, Clumsy!Yandere. And that’s when things take an unexpected turn.

It turns out that when it comes to Clumsy!Yandere, you can be extremely protective. You don’t even realize it. In your eyes, you’re just looking after your sweetheart. To everyone else, you’re flawlessly executing the role of a yandere.

The other fellow students can only stare in disbelief, watching you as you figure out things you were previously clueless about.

“I c-could do the yandere part”, your clumsy partner suggests with feigned confidence.

Oh, no. You know how competitive your classmates are. No way you’d ever allow him to potentially get hurt. Not on your watch.

Were you always this good of a yandere?

When the teachers ask you to replicate that same performance, you have no idea what they’re talking about. You’re back to your pathetic, helpless self. A paradox yet to be deciphered by your peers.

“That damn pest”, one classmate curses out, pocket knife sneakily hidden as they wait around the corner ahead of Darling Academy.

They can’t take it anymore. The way you look at him, the way your voice softens whenever you speak to him…it should be them instead! What has he done to deserve your grace? He needs to be dealt with.

“Enjoying your walk?”

The student jolts in surprise and turns around. It’s you. Yet you look different this time. Your smile is cold, and your eyes have an eerie glisten to them.

“H-how did you know where I-”

“I don’t think you’re supposed to be this close to Darling Academy. I suggest you leave.”

“Are you going to tell the teachers?”

“Teachers? Nonsense. I can take care of you myself", you say mechanically, blocking their path.

An abrupt shiver crosses their spine, and they scramble. Revenge will have to be postponed for now.

Moments later, Clumsy!Yandere greets you with a cheerful smile.

"I hope you weren't waiting too long. Shall I walk you home?" he proposes with a blush. Your answer doesn't really matter, truth be told. He will follow you either way. How else is he meant to guarantee your safety?

You'd be lost without him.

[Yandere School] | [Clumsy!Yandere]

[ssuperrnnovaa]

— WHEN THEY FALL IN LOVE..

or, when there's no turning back for the first years.

a/n: first writing post.. AHH edit 1: i forgot to add things I DIDNT PROOFREAD SORRY

when ace trappola falls in love..

he's still the same guy. but almost sweet, almost kind.

but he's a master of his secrets. parts his mouth just to spew another joke about your appearance or how you did on that potionology test the other day - that same glint of hesitation in his eyes, that unsure croak of his voice just before he delivers another nasty quip about your face. like a punchline stuck in his throat - too funny to laugh at, too funny to acknowledge.

funny how he'd said he'd "rather hang out with his friends than find love", and here he is; laying in his bed. at 3 am. head filled with nothing but thoughts of you.

he'll let it simmer. wait for you to realize - wait for you to notice him, not just the facade he puts up. not the prankster he is in class, or the troublemaker you have to put up with.

wait for you to love him back.

when deuce spade falls in love..

he's trying his very best.

deuce was never much of a charmer - the guy's been a delinquent for most of his life; feared, not loved. he only sees (romantic) love in the movies - terrible rom-coms, poignant love stories.. you name it. deuce has no idea about love.

(his lack of knowledge gets worse with you.)

deuce tries - keyword, tries to keep his composure in front of you. he fails, miserably. his face? turning red. words? none. palms? sweating. and pride? absolutely crushed.

he apologizes to you later, blames it on the heat or how he forgot about another ridiculous rule. calls up his mom and his mouth is a dam - like he suddenly gained the ability to talk 10 minutes later. tells her all about you, as if she doesn't know your entire genetic code just from hearing him talk.

maybe one day.

when jack howl falls in love..

it's unyielding - unyielding, but quiet.

jack doesn't date for fun; never has, never will. he doesn't chase anyone.

wolves mate for life - you know it when jack immediately shuts down the idea of even having a crush or having an ex, saying that he's "focused on self-betterment" or "waiting for the right person". you're convinced that not even cupid could get him to fall in love.

but for you? that discipline shatters.

it happens during a study session in ramshackle when you're idly playing with his ears - making fun of that stone-cold persona when in reality he's melting under your touch. he catches himself after five minutes of bliss, thoughts of the future flooding his brain; "what if i won't be a good partner to them? what if i let them down?'

to jack, love isn't a game; love's not the way he feels embarrassingly giddy after you squeeze his hand or poke his bicep. love's permanent. forever. and it terrifies him.

when epel felmier falls in love..

it's fierce.

epel's not soft - in fact, he's everything but. he'd do anything to be seen as strong by you; even if it meant burying his own feelings.

epel was never much of a dreamer - let alone a lovey-dovey kind of guy. he despises those mushy romance stories, calling them "dumb as a box of rocks", grimacing when he watches the leads kiss.

yet.. he can't help but be entranced. by you.

he scoffs a little too loudly for vil's comfort, but in his head, he's repeating the same mantra over and over again in his head - "i'm not some silly little girl moonin' over someone. i've got better things to do with my time. besides, love is for babies."

yet, his defenses crumble when you ever do so much as breathe in his direction, and suddenly, he's back to square one.

when sebek zigvolt falls in love..

it's fervent.

sebek is passionate about a lot of things - his duty as a retainer, malleus, academics, and you.

you, a mere human that could quiet him down with just a finger to your lip. you, a mere human who keeps him awake at night and restless, overthinking. yearning.

it's foolish, he tells himself. tells himself it's just a small crush as if it's not all-consuming, as if he's not avoiding you all together just so he could have peace of mind.

is it the right thing to do? no. will it keep him unbothered? absolutely not. and will he come to terms with his feelings?... unlikely.

[1d1195]

Pucking Rookie III

Read Pucking Rookie here | ~8k words

From me: oops, more slow burn

Warnings: I have a feeling you will all be requesting a much FASTER update. Angst, fluff, shitty ex-boyfriend, the usual. Some violence which could b triggering. Please be kind to your mind.

Summary: Harry hates Kael. To be fair, most everyone hates him.

“Did y’bring your skates?” Harry asked. He was taking shots into the net for about an hour and a half at the time she had arrived. She was just a little over half an hour early to their practice. He paused to skate over to her. She was putting water bottles into place, clipboards, and other things that her uncle needed for a successful practice. Once everything was where it was supposed to be, she took her camera and took a practice shot of the ice behind Harry littered with pucks.

She frowned and looked away at her camera using it to divert his attention ever so slightly. Her cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink. “They’re in my car...”

Her unease wasn’t lost on Harry. “Do y’want t’go get them and I’ll help y’for a bit before practice?” He asked, leaning on his stick propped against the board.

She shook her head. “No thank you.”

He tilted his head at her. “C’mon, Rookie. You’re not going t’learn if y’don’t try.”

She sighed. “It’s not that... it’s just...” she looked up at him. “I’m still pretty embarrassed about it and I don’t want to do it here in front of everyone and everyone try to help...” She explained. “Like Uncle Charlie will give his two cents and honestly, I’ll be overwhelmed and I’m already nervous about it. The whole team watching would be even worse.”

Harry hadn’t really thought of that. But he wished he had because that meant that he could have a private lesson with her. One-on-one time with her was easily his new favorite thing. It happened a little more frequently since the night he followed her home. When he brought the used skates to her, she ordered pizza, and they played several rounds of Cribbage together. On a morning off from practice, he happened to be going by her place (of course going out of his way to be nearby) he did yoga with her before ordering breakfast to be delivered to her. Evenings where she worked at Louis’ he placed himself at his regular table and smiled at her as she came and went from kitchen to fluttering around the room waiting on everyone.

But on game days, whether they were home or away, she stayed her distance. He suspected she knew about his habits and his hookups. Which made him feel bad in a way he hadn’t worried about in ages. Harry was very comfortable with his sexuality. He liked having sex. He enjoyed making someone else come and yeah, he enjoyed that aspect for himself too.

But since he met the pretty photographer, he didn’t like it as much. Didn’t find it nearly as satisfying. Even though he wanted to.

Harry had a pond out behind his house. A pond that was very frozen in this chilly winter air. She hadn’t been to his place yet. Her pretty being all over his house seemed like a brilliant idea. It made him want her more.

Harry never wanted a girl the way he wanted her. For him it was always a one-night stand at their place, so he had the freedom to leave. They knew what they signed up for. But she invaded every little part of his mind. Thoughts of camera flashes and smiles. His picture on her fridge. The picture she texted him of herself that he saved as her contact photo. Her wearing Niall’s jersey. The cookies she made for her neighbors. Her rundown car. Her piece of shit ex.

“Would y’want t’come t’my place? I’ve got a pond out back.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Harry,” she admitted. Her voice was quiet, but she made direct eye contact with him. She always did, even if the conversation was difficult.

He frowned. “Why?” He asked.

“Because... you’re... you.”

“What’s that mean?” His eyebrows pulled forward as he tried to think through her logic before she said it.

“It means...” she looked at the ceiling like the answer would appear there. “I am not going to be seen with you at your place when you’ve never brought a girl home.”

He blinked. “How do y’know that?” She shrugged but busied herself with her camera taking pictures of the bench. She took Harry’s gloves from him and put them in a specific place. He felt utterly annoyed when he realized why she might have known. The frustration came over him before he could stop it. “Did your stupid ex tell you ‘bout m’reputation or something? Is that it? S’why y’don’t let me in fully? Y’think m’a piece of shit too?” He asked quietly. It sounded a little too accusing. He didn’t mean to. But it was unfair. Plus, he thought they were friends. The kind of friends like he was with Niall.

Because honestly, Harry didn’t think he could be good enough for her. Maybe he was projecting what he felt. She deserved a good boyfriend who would be able to devote all his time to her. She didn’t deserve someone that got a crummy five months to be in a relationship who had to worry allthe time about him because he had never had a steady girlfriend before.

She brought the camera from her face down to rest against her stomach on the strap around her neck. Once more, she looked him straight on. It was intoxicating. Brave. Beautiful, of course, always.

“I don’t think you’re a piece of shit, Harry Styles,” she said very clearly.

He blinked. “You don’t?”

“Why would I think that? Because you sleep with women who clearly want to sleep with you? You’re entitled to whatever you want with whomever you want as long as they fully consent, Harry. I don’t really give a shit. I just refuse to date a hockey player because an actual piece of shit cheated on me for who knows how long which I did not consent to. It’s obvious you’re charming, talented, intelligent, and very handsome,” she paused briefly, took a deep breath. “Any girl would be lucky to have you, Harry Styles. I just won’t be her.”

She brought her camera back to her face. She seemed unaffected by his stunned expression. He swallowed and it felt like a rock was in his throat. “That was an awful lot of compliments, Bunny,” he hummed. She continued taking pictures, but Harry saw the way her cheeks turned another shade of red under his gaze. He leaned closer towards her. “You think m’handsome?” he teased.

“A blind person would know you’re handsome, Harry. Don’t be a dick about it.”

“Charming?”

“Are you getting off on this or something? Is your ego not big enough?”

“I just didn’t know you thought that ‘bout me. I thought y’jus’ kinda tolerated me and m’overbearing presence.”

She rolled her eyes. “Why would I hate you?”

“No reason.”

But he answered too quickly. It was the reason that hung in the air over and over. She turned from her camera and caught his gaze again. “You’re nothing like Kael, Harry. I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel that you were,” her voice was extremely gentle, like she was speaking to someone with a baby napping in the room. It made him feel all over. Every cell in his body vibrating with emotion.

The breath he released was more relieved than when he found out he was being drafted to the Chargers. Harry wanted her all over his house. Wanted her in his room and not even for sexual reasons. He just wanted to see her there after any game. Wanted her to wear his jersey. Teach her to skate better. Hang any of her photographs in his house like a museum paying tribute to her talent. More than that he wanted pictures of her in his house—so many pictures of her.

*

On nights when the team had curfew because of early morning practice or a game the next day, she did not of course. Harry broke curfew almost every single day after learning where she lived. He asked her to move in almost every time he followed her home ensuring she got home safely in her crappy car.

You shouldn’t break curfew. You’ll get a big fine. Marc and Michael keep an eye on my arrival.

It’s fine. I have the money.

Harry was territorial about her and especially her safety.

Look, I don’t want to be weird, but we’re friends... Evander said you... had plans tonight with someone...

Harry wanted to kill his teammate. Who? He tried for the funny remark so he wouldn’t lose his fucking mind at the thought of her thinking about his late night hook up.

You’re ridiculous.

Making sure you get home safe is more important than having an orgasm.

...

Sorry, FRIEND. Thought we could talk about orgasms.

R I D I C U L O U S

😇

Go puck yourself Harry.

God, you’re hilarious Rookie.

Good night, Harry. Thanks for worrying about me. It’s... actually kind of nice.

Yeah, of course. Good night, Rookie.

Harry didn’t have plans that night. Not unless pining over his coach’s niece in the privacy of his own bed was a plan.

*

Charlie was currently taking his anger out on the guys, which was extremely unfair because they had no idea it was because of her. She wished she could have been surprised. Instead, she quietly took pictures, feeling bad for their poor lungs. They were breathing hard and heavy as they struggled with the conditioning drill.

“Five minutes!” Charlie snarled.

They all collapsed on the ice in their spots. Players on the bench were slumped and moaning in pain and they were already on a rest. She glared at her uncle holding two six-pack water bottle carriers as she stepped onto the ice. She nearly slipped twice. Harry didn’t even move to help her, which meant they were in really tough shape.

“Thanks Sweetheart,” Asher heaved.

“Coach, is something wrong?” Niall asked, chugging his water. Off to the side of the rink Callie was throwing up into a trash can. A quiet ‘pussy’ came from an equally green-looking Lang. Only Niall could get away with asking because he was the nice one of the group. But even still, Uncle Charlie silenced him with a glare.

“He’s mad at me and taking it out on you,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry guys. Uncle Charlie, can you stop punishing all hockey players on my behalf?”

“Sweetheart, don’t,” he shook his head once paying no mind to the team that was half dead on the ice before him.

She sighed heavily. “You’re being mean, Uncle Charlie. It’s not their fault!”

“It’s the reputation they’ve given the game,” Coach Wheeler agreed.

“What reputation?”

“Uncle Charlie is mad he picked me up from my apartment. He’s not keen on where I live.”

“It looks like a meth lab.”

“My apartment is not a meth lab.”

“You have a drug dealer living on the first floor.”

“Michael is super nice! He watches my car and—”

“Jesus,” Niall murmured. “Sweetheart—”

“Don’t even bother, Horan. I tried everything. She is insistent, she doesn’t want a single hand out from anybody. Which is why you’re all paying the price. What kind of asshole makes someone as sweet as her—”

“Uncle Charlie, can we not air my relationship out in front of the whole team?”

“If we’re doing suicide sprints because of fucking Kael Crowe I want to be moved to the Lightning,” Callie groaned referring to the minor team affiliated with the Chargers. “What the hell, Coach!? Take it up with Crowe!”

Exhausted agreements resounded from the ground. “You all better treat women with respect. There is zero tolerance for it,” Coach Wheeler grumbled.

“Sweetheart, do something please,” Lang begged standing to where Callie was previously, vomiting promptly into the trash.

“Uncle Charlie, can you cut them a break? They didn’t cheat on me.”

“Oh, for the love of God,” Asher moaned. “Permission to cross-check when we play him?”

“Permission granted,” Uncle Charlie shrugged.

“Jesus,” she sighed and rubbed her forehead. Harry was still breathing hard, but surprisingly didn’t say anything. She was certain he would have something to say about Kael or her stupid choice. Everyone seemed to.

“First one’ll be for you, Sweetheart. Second one’s for me,” Asher winked.

“Why’d he pick y’up?” Harry asked quietly. It was interesting, it was the first thing he said after all the time spent trying to remember how to breathe. It was like he already knew the answer. He also didn’t rat her out for knowing beforehand about where she lived. Although she suspected he knew the punishment would be far worse if Charlie found out that Harry knew where she lived and said nothing.

“Car wouldn’t start,” she shrugged handing him a bottle of water. “It’s a piece of shit, but it’s all I can afford,” she admitted quietly. The conversation was just for the two of them. “I’m on a budget,” she reminded him.

Harry liked how open she was with him. When she told him and Niall that she couldn’t skate and that she got nervous about it, it was vulnerable in a way he didn’t expect. He liked how she said she wouldn’t date him (even though it broke a piece of him) and still managed to compliment him. Each time she mentioned she wasn’t swimming in cash made him feel like she trusted him. He thought of her cold apartment, her used skates, and her broken down car.

It was a shame she wasn’t going to like him as much after her next comment.

“Coach, if I let her borrow one of my cars while hers is in the shop, can we call practice early? I’ll drive her to and from games. Won’t let her out of my sight until she’s safely in the building.”

“I’m not convinced it’s a safe building.”

“Jesus Christ, Sweetheart, where are you living?” Niall sighed.

When Coach said the name of the building and the street just into the bad side of town, everyone moaned again. She shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s the right price and no one bothers me. I use you all as a threat.”

“Oh, for the love of God,” Callie groaned. “Coach, we’ll take shifts, anything. Make it stop,” he begged. Lang returned from throwing up in the trash can and took water from her.

“I don’t need shifts of you guys watching me,” she rolled her eyes. “No one bugs me, they know I work for the team and that I could have twenty scary hockey players there in a matter of minutes.”

Harry smirked. It was obvious he liked the sound of that. “Coach?” Harry prompted.

“Harry, I’m not taking your car, for God’s sake!”

“Oh you don’t have a choice, Sweetheart,” he snorted.

“Uncle Charlie! You’re not getting one of your players to babysit me!”

“Then you’re responsible for their lungs bursting.”

She pouted, glared at her uncle, and marched off the ice. Snagging her camera from the bench as she did. It was childish, petty, and made her look like an idiot, but she was too mad to care. Harry sighed. “Coach, she’s a grown woman... y’could have at least asked her if she was okay with that...” Harry reminded him. Charlie leveled Harry with a stare.

“She’s the best person I know,” Charlie explained. “That piece of shit Crowe never deserved her. It kills the whole family that she doesn’t see her own worth. We watched her take care of him and put her life on hold for him. She doesn’t let people take care of her. Maybe because she doesn’t know how,” he shrugged. “So if she needs tough love to do that, then so be it.”

Harry followed her off the ice. He walked slightly awkwardly on his skates but found her outside one of the offices sitting on a bench, putting her items away in her bag. “You’re not giving me your car,” she grumbled.

“Rookie,” he sighed.

“I don’t need you saving me! This is just like when you yelled at Kael.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “We’re friends, right?”

She glanced at him. “...yes,” she said tentatively.

“Y’know how y’always worry ‘bout me drinking water? Making sure I eat dinner? Texting me t’make sure I get home after following y’home?” She didn’t look at him and fiddled with the laces of her boots. “Y’can ignore me all you want, but s’what friends do. We care ‘bout you and want t’do all the nice things y’do for us.”

It looked like she was piecing together what he was saying. But not fully wanting to accept it. “You’re really going to let me borrow your car?”

He smiled.

“I guess I could... have a skating lesson... assuming your car is at your house?”

Somehow, he managed to smile wider. “Yeah, Rookie? Great... I’ll go change and tell Coach. Be out in a minute.”

“Don’t be weird about it, Harry. I don’t want anyone to think you’re my favorite. Because you’re not.”

He chuckled. “Sure thing, Rookie.”

*

Harry hurried to her side of the car and opened the door when they arrived at his house. She grabbed her stuff from the back—it was everything she had to pull out of her car and toss into her uncle’s when he picked her up. Harry grabbed his duffle bag, as well as a small bag of groceries of items she needed to make the hot chocolate she promised after the skating lesson. “M’gonna put this stuff away and sharpen your skates,” he said holding the pair by the laces tied together as he opened the door. “Here’s the key if y’want t’throw your stuff in the car,” he grabbed it off the hook near the doorway and then headed further into the house. With the key in hand, she headed back outside and unlocked an extravagant car she would never be able to afford. Sighing, she put her stuff in the trunk, locked it, and headed back toward the equally luxurious house.

To be fair, it wasn’t a mansion. It was a nice home. It was clear Harry took great care of it—or paid people to take great care of it. Following the sound of something scraping against the blade, she found Harry in his kitchen, sitting on a breakfast bar stool at the island. The kitchen was stunning. Marble countertops, white backsplash, black hanging light fixtures, white cabinets with black hardware. There were green curtains in the window. The appliances were all black. It belonged in a magazine. It was practically pristine.

The only thing she found interesting was Harry’s sink was filled with dishes. The dishwasher looked clean, it was open and completely full as well. How many dishes did a person living by themself have? She spun the key on her finger as she approached him, setting it on the counter. “When’s your birthday?” He asked randomly.

“February eleventh,” she blinked.

Harry smiled that really beautiful way of his. The one that made the dips in his cheeks deepen. His eyes seemed brighter. “S’near mine.”

“I know.”

“You keeping track of me Rookie?” He was full-on beaming.

“No, but I added everyone’s birthday to my calendar after Ray’s. Figured I would make treats if I had the time,” she explained. “I remembered yours because it’s in February like mine.”

“Can’t y’jus’ let me believe y’like me?”

She ignored him. “How do you do it?” She asked pointing to the skate.

He held the little tool out to her—a little rectangle with a space for the blade to slide between. “They don’t sell skates unsharpened, even used ones. So they’re already pretty good, but I feel better doing it myself. I wouldn’t want t’put y’on skates I haven’t ensured were good to go,” he explained and waited until she lined up the blade with the tool. “Jus’ stroke the blade in the same direction a few times. You’ll feel a little resistance. S’how y’know it’s working. The duller the blade the more resistance you’ll feel.”

“Like this?” She asked making sure she didn’t mess up her new skates.

“Yup, that’s good,” he monitored the motion.

“Thank you,” she murmured quietly.

“Course, Rookie. S’what friends are for,” he shrugged simply.

But it wasn’t that simple. Kael would never sharpen her skates for her. Wouldn’t even offer. It’s why she basically stopped skating—didn’t bother to continue because he didn’t care. He never asked if he could help teach her. There was no way he would willingly give his car to her either or offer to follow her home from a game. Most of the time they were at the same arena he didn’t go home with her. In case he wanted to go out with friends.

She felt the emotion building in her throat because she knew Harry had plenty of options. But she didn’t want to be an option. It wasn’t Harry’s fault. Honestly, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just wasn’t... the right time. She was too broken and fucked from her ex. Harry was too talented and charming to deal with a steady girlfriend and he shouldn’t have to. He was young, handsome, and had ample time in his career and life to have fun before he settled down.

“Ready?” He asked interrupting her sad thoughts. Harry was sweet—really sweet. The kind of sweet she always wanted Kael to be. She shook her head to rid herself of thoughts of how nice it would be to be Harry Styles’ girlfriend. It wasn’t going to happen. He replaced the guards on her blades. “Pond’s out back,” he told her gesturing to the back slider that led to a porch.

“Your house is beautiful,” she told him.

“Thanks, Rookie, love,” he smiled. “Mum was insistent it be my first investment,” he explained.

“Smart lady.”

“The very best,” he affirmed.

Nope, she wasn’t going to fall for a man who was kind and adored his mother. Not one bit.

The back deck overlooked a decent sized yard, but it was the pond that was by far the feature of it. She could picture beautiful sunsets, and she wished she brought her camera with her. There was a layer of light snow on the ground, the bare branches. It was like a Christmas movie scene. It left her a little breathless and Harry paid no attention to it. Totally used to the beauty of his own yard.

“Y’okay?” He asked over his shoulder. He noticed her pause as he continued walking toward the little pond. Harry kicked his boots off and put on his skates while sitting on a little wooden bench. They weren’t the pair he wore at the rink. These looked a little more worn in and scuffed. Well-loved, was the best description. He laced them quickly and expertly. It must have been second nature to him. With the guards still on his blades, he stood in front of her. “Put these on,” he handed her a pair of socks from his sweatshirt pocket. They weren’t the ones he bought her, which meant they were either his or another set he had bought her just for the occasion.

Nope. Not falling in love with him. Not at all.

“Your backyard is beautiful,” she said. “I wish I had my camera.” She untied her boots and stuck her feet in the skates. Almost immediately, Harry carefully hoisted her left skate between his thighs. He held her foot in her new-used skate (with the guard still in place) and tied the laces tightly.

“I can grab it after the lesson,” he offered and worked on the laces. “S’that feel good?” He asked. “Or is it too tight?”

“No, I don’t like my ankle to move.”

He chuckled. “Y’want it t’move a little, Rookie.”

She shrugged while he tied the other skate. Once done, he pulled the guards off and held his hands out for her to take. She took a deep breath and tried not to think about how large Harry’s hands were and wrapped around hers so easily. They were warm and comforting. He bent and took his own skate guards off. “I know y’can skate a little, so I don’t want t’push you,” he headed for the ice. “Jus’ do what feels comfortable.”

She barely skated at the rink. Skating on a pond seemed like a bad idea. Sitting on that little bench watching Harry? Maybe taking pictures of him as she did? That seemed like a good idea. Comfortable, to his point. “Is the pond deep?” She asked tentatively.

He frowned and waited at the very edge as she stood just off the ice. “Bunny,” he hummed gently. “I would never let y’get hurt, so no,” he promised. “S’not deep. S’very safe,” he assured her. “C’mon,” he held his hand out. Tentatively, she took it. Fortunately, she was used to him holding her elbow while she walked or skated around.

“Harry, I really don’t want to embarrass myself,” she warned.

“M’not going t’make fun of you, Bunny,” his voice didn’t have any teasing in it. Harry was dressed in a pair of black pants and a gray sweatshirt. He looked cozy and pretty as always. His voice was too soft and made her feel safe. Which wasn’t a bad thing except for her heart. “Jus’... take little steps. M’not going t’let you fall.”

It was becoming increasingly clear that it was too late for that.

She listened, taking small steps. Harry skated backwards while facing her, holding his hands out for comfort but not holding onto her. “You’re leaning too far forward, Rookie. Y’want t’keep your weight over your skates while y’step. S’going t’change a bit when y'take your steps but s’what you’re trying to maintain,” he explained. He watched her feet as she adjusted to what he said. “Don’t stare at your feet,” he offered kindly. “I know s’hard, but it’s tough on the balance,” they glided silently for a few minutes. “Y’okay,?” he asked glancing at her face. She nodded. He smiled gently. “Okay,” he took hold of her hands again and tugged her gently. “When y’stop, just tilt your foot inward just a little,” he used his own feet to demonstrate. “You’re doing great, Rookie,” he promised. “Feel easier on the figure skates?”

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s definitely easier to balance.”

He grinned, excitement covering his features and all she had done was take fifteen little steps or so. “Okay let’s keep going. We’re jus’ going t’focus on keeping y’comfortable today. Getting used to the balance and stopping,” he continued facing her and skating backwards as he pulled her.

“How do you skate backwards?” She asked.

“You gotta walk before y’can run, Rookie,” he chuckled knowingly. She rolled her eyes.

“I meant you, Harry.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been skating m’whole life.”

“Since you were three and before you could walk?” Most every hockey player she knew had the same story. Skating was more important than walking. It was romantic in a way. A first love of sorts. Harry seemed no different in that respect.

He nodded with a shy grin. “Something like that.”

“You’re very graceful.”

“You’re so forthcoming with the compliments today, Bunny. S’nice,” he pulled her toward him. She wasn’t really skating since Harry was just guiding her, but it felt nice to be on the ice without fear of making a fool of herself. “Try stopping.”

“I’m supposed to be skating not stopping Harry.” He smirked and looked at her pointedly. So she executed her little stop and Harry’s smile brightened.

“Lovely, Rookie. Do you want t’try on your own?”

“Sure,” she sighed feeling defeated before starting but it was the only way she’d get better. Harry let go of her hands but stayed the same distance from her (which was no more than five inches away). She took little steps moving at a glacial pace. She really wondered how she could have been using the wrong skates for so long. It felt so much safer and easier to be on the figure skates than it ever had been on hockey skates.

“You’re doing great, Rookie,” he assured her. She felt embarrassed because she was in her late twenties and Harry was treating her like a child. Not his doing, though. It was in her head it felt that way.

But they skated for a while quietly, just listening to the gentle cutting of the blades on the ice. Harry put his hands out just in front of him as a gentle reminder he was there, letting her have the comfort of grabbing him if she needed.

Naturally, her toe hit a divot in the ice at that moment which made her lose her footing. Harry snagged around her waist quickly to keep her upright. “Whoops,” the entire front of his body was pressed to hers. “Y’okay?” She nodded, not wanting to think about how nice Harry was and how warm his body felt. She pulled away as quickly as she could once she regained her footing. “The ice doesn’t get resurfaced like the rink,” he admitted shyly. Like it was his fault.

“You don’t own a Zamboni?” She gaped. “I can’t believe it!”

He chuckled, moving away from her slightly. She couldn’t believe how much colder it felt even though he only held her for no more than forty seconds. “Do y’want t’keep skating?” He asked.

“Yes,” she nodded. Because honestly? She didn’t want to leave just yet.

*

Eventually, they got off his little ice rink. She didn’t fall thanks to Harry catching her two more times around the waist. Each time she sent an electric current right through her heart. He was gentle, kind, and encouraging. Imagining him doing the same thing with his baby niece made her ovaries ache so much she had to think about anything else.

“Did you have a dinner party?” she asked pointing to his sink.

“No,” he sighed. “I jus’ hate dishes,” he shook his head.

“Do you want—”

“Don’t you dare,” he glared at her and headed down the hall toward another room. She smiled and shook her head.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to make hot chocolate with a mess in the sink,” she called.

“Don’t make it then!” He sounded far away. She couldn’t believe he stayed at her tiny little apartment when she could hardly hear him from a few rooms away. “We can go out t’get some or we y’can jus’ stuff from the dishwasher, Rookie. But don’t touch the sink!”

She rolled her eyes and shifted, through the clean dishes, pulling a sauce pan from it. Harry returned with a bag. “Can you get me chocolate chips, sugar, and cocoa powder? I don’t want to dig through your cabinets—what’s that?”

He looked at her pointedly. “Y’can go through the cabinets,” he shrugged. But it was starting to feel a little too domestic. Now they were at Harry’s house which meant she was done for. At least when they were at her place, she wasn’t subject to the overwhelmingly intoxicating scent of Harry. He found the ingredients and placed them on the counter. “Open it,” he shrugged.

It was a large bag from the pro shop at the arena. She peered in and then looked up at him. “Harry.”

“S’not a big deal, Rookie. Don’t make it a big deal,” he suggested. “What do y’need for whipped cream?”

Inside the bag were jerseys. Langford, Calloway, Asher, and Styles. Her heart felt too warm. Her eyes stung a bit over the thoughtfulness yet again. Skates, jerseys, socks. Harry was too sweet. He wasn’t fighting fair. “Sugar, vanilla, and heavy whipping cream...” she mumbled. Swallowing the emotion she felt, she opted for a joke. “No Horan?”

“He already got his turn,” he grumbled slightly bitter.

She looked at the jersey brushing her fingers over his last name. “It’s too much, Harry.”

“I get a discount,” he shrugged. “On behalf of the team, throw out all your Glacier Wolves stuff,” he grabbed the next set of ingredients and eyed her from across the kitchen island. “What?”

“Even the sweatshirt I’ve worn so much I’ve got it to maximum comfort?” He pressed his mouth into a line and stared at her pointedly. “Alright I’ll throw it out, you’re so bossy.”

He smirked and turned to the stove, turning the dial to light the burner. “Okay Rookie, time for my lesson. Show me how t’make hot chocolate.”

*

It felt like Harry was becoming her very best friend, which scared her. Kael took up so much of her life it left her very little room for friends. The friends she did have... ended up not liking her and talking behind her back. “Hey Rookie,” Harry smiled entering the locker room to drop his stuff for game day photos. “Ugh,” he sighed looking at her jersey and the smile melted.

“Hi, Harry,” she waved with an impish grin.

“Hi Sweetheart,” Asher greeted. “You look beautiful today,” he cooed.

“Shut the fuck up, Asher!” Harry yelled from the other side of the door. Asher winked at her and headed inside the locker room.

“He’s so jealous,” Callie shook his head. She smiled, shook her head, but she could feel her cheeks heating up with color. “Nice jersey, Sweetheart!” He shouted, no doubt enjoying his number on her this time. Only she knew that Callie would be more extra about it than Niall ever could be.

“You can shut the fuck up too,” Harry growled from near the door.

“He must not think I look beautiful,” she laughed quietly.

“Oh Jesus,” Lang snorted filing inside.

“What did she say?” Harry asked.

“Nothing,” Lang chuckled.

“Those are fighting words, Sweetheart,” Niall chuckled heading in after his team.

After the game day pictures were posted to the appropriate social media outlets, she headed inside the arena. She filed down to her spot near the other media. She smiled and waved to people she had been chatting with regularly. They all greeted her as if she was a real media presence and not just the coach’s niece with a camera.

She took a few pictures of the empty ice adding it to her mental portfolio of this sports series she was looking to do. It was peaceful for a moment, the images forming in sequence, her ideal lighting. The way everything would come together to tell a story. It was something she was really excited about—

“Hey, baby.”

She didn’t turn immediately. Surely, she misheard. Her body felt a wave of anxiety run over it. She didn’t flinch, didn’t turn. For several seconds, she focused on her breathing and nothing else. A minute. She just needed a minute to collect herself. Turning slowly, she smiled politely.

“Kael.” His feet were on top of the seat in front of him. Some of his teammates were milling behind, a few rows back of him. He looked relaxed and uncaring of how fucked up it was that he was there. Coming up to her while she was alone. “You guys are in town early,” she stated.

He nodded, standing up and heading to her. She busied herself by inspecting her pictures making sure they looked okay on the screen. Her hands were shaking. Not because she was worried about what Kael might do but because she was angry. Kael was her least favorite person and he made her uneasy because of all the fucked-up things she let him do to her. “Nice jersey. Sleeping with Calloway?” He asked, sweeping his hand across the top of her back. It made her want to crawl out of her skin.

“No,” she clenched her jaw. She wanted to leave as little to the conversation as possible. But she couldn’t. Because Kael didn’t own any part of her privacy anymore. Part of her wished she was sleeping with Callie if only to rub it in his face. But she couldn’t pretend that any more than she could say she didn’t have a crush on Harry. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Right, sure...” he smiled slowly. “You look beautiful, baby. Even in an ugly jersey.”

She loved this jersey so much. The only jersey she would love to wear more than Callie’s, was Harry’s. Not that she would ever say that. “What can I say, orange and blue just wasn’t my color,” she shrugged. “And Kael? Stop calling me baby.”

He put his hands up. “Just wanted to say hi... I’m in the area today... tomorrow and the following day, too... thought you might want to catch up.”

“Sweetheart!” Uncle Charlie called.

She turned looking at her uncle, Ray, Callie, Niall, and a couple of the younger players staring at her from across the ice. “That’s my cue,” she said making her way back the way she came.

“You work for the team?” He asked, surprise evident in his voice.

“Yup.”

“Good old Uncle Charlie helped you out?” He wondered.

“Uh-huh.”

She walked around the edge of the ice noting every pair of eyes of The Chargers following her.

Kael followed her as well. “Do you want to get dinner, love?” He asked.

“I have to work tonight; thanks though,” she said over her shoulder wishing she could have cut across the ice. It would have been nice if she could have shown him that she could skate a bit now.

No thanks to him.

“What about tomorrow after the game?”

“Working again,” she shrugged.

“Lunch?”

“Busy.”

She was much closer now to her uncle and the guys. Their gazes felt warm on her, so she looked at her camera as she walked.

“C’mon, baby. You’re the one that wanted to talk.”

“To get my stuff back, Kael,” she sighed without looking at him. God she wanted to be done with the conversation. Why couldn’t he take a hint?

“Technically it’s my stuff.”

Ugh. That would do it. She spun on her heel. He was right behind her so now they stood only inches apart. This was the guy she seriously saw herself marrying because they had been together for so long. She was going to have children with him. So many days and nights spent at his arena wearing ugly orange and blue. Taking care of his every need and not asking for anything in return. All the other things that she didn’t even want to think about let alone speak into existence. Putting her life on hold for him because he deemed himself more important than her hobby. Now, he was going to continue holding her stuff hostage? Just for some weird power trip?

No. Not anymore.

“I don’t want anything you bought me, Kael,” her tone was biting. Teeth clenched. “I want my stuff back.”

He snorted. “Then go to lunch with me, baby,” he grinned sweetly.

“Hey Kael, we need her for pre-game pictures,” Charlie came up behind her putting a hand on her shoulder gently. She shrugged it off, she was independent, goddammit. She didn’t need her uncle or a hockey team to defend her in front of Kael. He already thought she was weak. She didn’t need to prove him right.

“I am not negotiating for my stuff,” she told him, her tone still angry.

“Sweetheart,” Charlie grabbed her shoulder a little more securely.

“Hey Charlie, sorry. Just trying to catch up with our girl here,” he smiled charmingly at her uncle. She rolled her eyes and marched around Charlie, toward the tunnel back to the locker room. “Tell Callie he’s a lucky man, baby,” he shouted.

“Fuck you Crowe!” Callie was immediately moving toward him as she pushed past. “You’re a piece of trash!”

“Hey!” Ray yelled. The other players yanked him back and away from one person who could fuck up the simplest of things with just a couple words. Kael smiled walking back the way he came. Like he didn’t cause a scene or anything.

*

Callie got three penalties in the first period. Lang had to talk him down because he wanted four. But that would have been bad for the team, and they weren’t even playing Kael.

Harry was fuming, bouncing his knee as he sat seated in front of his locker. “I hate that stupid prick,” Callie growled. She was seated on a chair outside the locker room looking at her camera. It didn’t seem to bother her much that Kael was around. Or maybe she was just continuing to be brave. It was kind of hot the way she stood up to him outside the ice rink. He wished he had known. He would have loved to have punched Kael. He was lucky Harry didn’t hear until he heard Callie yelling.

They lost the game one to nothing. No one blamed Callie because the goal wasn’t even during his penalties nor when he was on the ice. “I can’t wait for the game tomorrow,” Asher sighed. “Still allowed to cross-check?” He asked looking at Charlie and Ray.

Ray shrugged. “If you must.”

Harry wanted to strangle him. The moment he heard one of the younger players say Crowe’s name, he wanted to run to her, shove her behind him, and punch his stupid fucking face. “Harry?” Niall asked quietly from beside him.

“Yeah?”

“You good?” He asked.

“Yup,” he nodded.

“Look, he’s just trying to get a rise out of her,” he explained. “Maybe you.”

“He doesn’t know I like her,” he mumbled.

“You do like her?” Niall chuckled. “I knew it.”

He rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Everyone decent?” Her voice called.

Harry perked up hearing the voice of the sweet girl he was falling for rapidly by the second. She entered holding a hand over her eyes. “You’re good, Sweetheart,” Lang assured her.

“Bummer,” she muttered dropping her hand. Harry smirked despite how mad he was as a quiet chuckle sounded throughout the room.

“Gross, Sweetheart. They’re my players,” Charlie shook his head.

“Well, you and I have the same taste in men then, Uncle Charlie.”

Another round of laughter. “You okay?” Charlie asked leaning against his office door.

Harry was staring, Niall beside him staring as well. The whole team was watching to be fair. “Yeah... he was just... hovering, signing autographs and stuff...”

“Fuck him,” Callie growled. She glanced at him briefly. Harry wanted to kill him for getting her attention today in the form of his jersey on her. It shouldn’t have been such a concern for Harry, but it was. He liked her so much and it was so unfair he wasn’t good enough for her. At least he was the one that bought the jersey for her.

“It’s not a big deal,” she shrugged looking anywhere but someone else’s eyes.

But it was a big deal, Harry was fuming in his seat. His leg still bouncing.

“What did he say to you?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head.

“Sweetheart, if—”

“Can someone walk me to my car?” She asked.

“I can!” Callie chirped.

She frowned. “Callie, really, any other day. But... with the jersey—”

He frowned. “I hate Crowe.”

“Join the club,” Charlie said.

She sighed. “I’ll walk you out,” Harry quickly tossed a sweatshirt over his practice shirt and a pair of sweats on over his compression shorts.

They didn’t speak as they walked to her car. Harry’s car. She put her belongings in the back seat. “I took the night off. I’m pretty exhausted,” she told Harry leaning against the driver door. “So you don’t have to worry about me.”

But he did. Because it seemed to be the only thing he did. “Oh. S’nice,” he murmured. “Are you… do y’want company or are y’jus’ going t’bed?”

“Probably just bed,” her voice was tired. “Maybe Marc and I will watch a game so he can study.”

At least there was one man in her life he didn’t have to be jealous of. “Well, we have an early curfew anyway,” he mumbled. “Do y’want me t’follow y’home?”

She shook her head. “No. Thank you.”

“Anytime, Rookie,” he gave her arm a squeeze. “Let me know when you’re home,” Harry ushered her into the car and let her go on her way. He headed back for the arena feeling fairly defeated. But at least she was safe.

*

Eliana lived close by and expected very little of Harry. She was a nice person. She was a nurse at a local hospital and had hours that lined up with Harry’s every so often.

Harry was a fucking mess.

“Are you okay?” She asked

No. He wasn’t. He wanted the pretty photographer. Wanted to know she was home safe. Wanted to go to her apartment and wake Michael and Marc up and murder them for not protecting her when they said they would. Even though she was in all reality probably fine.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I’m gonna go,” he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “It’s not you.”

She smirked. “I didn’t think so, Harry. I hope you’re alright.”

 “Jury’s out.”

She rolled her eyes, pulled the covers up to her neck. “Just lock behind you please.”

Harry tried calling her. Not even caring how ridiculous he was. He was past the point of caring. He couldn’t even sleep with someone else, and he’d done nothing more than hold her hands or her elbow. He refrained from cuddling her at their sleepover beyond feeling the heat of her body while she slept.

Harry had called her every hour since he walked her to her car. Hopefully she was just asleep. She did say she was exhausted. Maybe if he drove by and saw her car, he would feel better?

Taking a deep breath, he shook his head. He couldn’t follow her like that. It was different that first time. He never intended to follow her into her apartment building. His rationality left him because he was so worried about her. Now that he was okay with her living arrangement, he didn’t want to look insane.

A drink. One drink and he would be home by curfew. Something to take the edge off. Make him forget about his worry.

Harry parked in the first available spot at The Locker Room. He waved to the regulars, said hello to some fans, and headed to his usual table. Force of habit. “Hey Harry,” Louis smiled bringing Harry a drink. “Didn’t know you were coming in; she figured you had curfew.”

He tilted his head at Louis, his thumb pausing on her name in his message threads once more. “Hmm?” He hummed. “She’s... here?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Louis pouted slightly. “She’s been here since five,” he hummed like it was obvious.

“Hey, Louis!” She called from the other room. Her voice hitching slightly in alarm.

Why would she lie? Louis raced to the other room. Harry followed quickly because the apprehension in her voice was enough to bring all his worry immediately back to the forefront of his mind and he expected the worst truly. Because she didn’t seem to be very scared of anything. She lived in a seedy part of town and worked with violent hockey players.

So what could be in the main room that would make her sound so worried? A drunk guy who was getting into it with another person? A handsy guy who thought she was pretty? A girl who didn’t like her decision to cut her off?

None of his thoughts had considered it might be Kael. Who had her wrist pinned to the top of a table, his hand wrapped tightly around it keeping her in place.

Harry’s vision turned red.

She gaped meeting Harry’s gaze. “Oh fuck,” she whispered.

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[dyns33]

Symbiosis

I missed Eddie x reader with silly Venom being in the way. Can't wait to see what they'll do in the next movie.

From the beginning of their relationship, Y/N had noticed that there was something different with Eddie.

She might have thought that it was because he was somewhat famous that he behaved eccentrically, sometimes talking to himself and seeming very agitated for no reason.

Without ever really bringing up these oddities, Eddie had been very honest with her about a lot of things. His childhood, his dreams, his ex-girlfriend, the loss of his job before becoming a journalism star again, his little problems with cleanliness.

"I mean, I'm a very clean person… Normally. All the time ! I wash twice a day, I take care of my teeth, I don't like living in filth but... Sometimes I'm not at home for a long time, and I'm totally focused on my job, and the stress… So, if I can seem a little dirty and messy, I'm sorry, I will never ask you to clean up for me and you can tell me that I stink by patting me on the back of the head. Yes, on the back of the head, I deserve it." Eddie muttered at the end of his sentence, looking to the side as if he were talking to someone else.

"I don't think you're dirty. You sweat a little sometimes, but that's natural."

“You’re saying that because you haven’t seen my apartment yet.”

“Does that mean you want to invite me to your apartment ?” Y/N asked, smiling shyly.

"Of course ! No, you don't… Of course, Y/N, I've been wanting to for a long time."

The presence of chickens was a little surprising, and it was true that the apartment was not in very good condition, but it was a bit like her idea of a bachelor pad, and it was quite reassuring to think that Eddie didn't often bring women home.

It meant something important to him, a sign of trust.

But that certainly wasn't the greatest evidence. No, this evidence took a little longer to emerge from the shadows, or from Eddie's shoulder, after a month of relationship.

Precisely the day he couldn't hold back the first "I love you."

The spontaneous, charming statement came in the middle of the small talk, and Y/N felt very happy, ready to respond that she loved him too.

It was then that the thing appeared between them, looking furious, showing its large teeth.

"No ! Eddie, no, you can't do that !"

“Oh, God, what is that ?!”

"Vee ! Vee, you promised me, man ! You're going to scare her ! And you have no right to interfere in my love affairs, go back inside ! Y/N, sorry, I'm really sorry, I’ll explain !”

“I have the right to give my opinion !” the creature replied, turning to Eddie. "You're ashamed of me, of us ! Anne accepted us ! Anne likes us ! If your new little darling doesn't accept us, then she's not good enough !"

“Anne didn’t really have a choice and we weren’t together anymore, stop talking about her all the time !”

After more or less managing to calm down the "non-parasite" that lived inside him, Eddie did his best to calm down Y/N, who was totally freaked out by what had just happened. He explained to her that Venom was an alien, a symbiote, who needed him to survive, who had helped him on numerous occasions, and who was not dangerous.

"I'm very dangerous ! I'm the lethal protector !"

"What does he mean ?"

"Nothing ! Well, he likes to fight crime, he's dangerous to the bad guys. You have absolutely nothing to fear, I promise. I… I'm so sorry."

Eddie then began to sob, despite all the comfort that Vee tried to give him by telling him that only losers cried like children and that he was pathetic to moan like that, putting them to serious shame.

Even though she was still scared, Y/N couldn't help but hug her boyfriend, trying her best not to touch the alien. She repeated to him that everything was fine, that it wasn't his fault, and that even though this situation was strange, she still wanted to be with him.

This seemed to reassure him, and make him very happy.

Unfortunately, there were three of them in this relationship, and Venom clearly didn't want to be with Y/N at all.

It was him that Eddie had been mumbling to since they met, often arguing about her, as the alien kept comparing her to Anne, his ex girlfriend.

Without any sign of lying in his eyes, he promised her that he hadn't been in love with her for a long time. Their breakup had been difficult, but she had found someone very quickly, Dan, a great guy, and they were married now, and Eddie was very happy for them.

Well, that wasn't easy to believe with Venom growling and hitting his host's head at the end of every sentence, insulting Dan and repeating how great Anne was.

But Eddie seemed really honest. He was friends with his ex, nothing more, and he wanted to be with Y/N now, even if his idiot parasite didn't agree.

He wasn't an optimist by nature, too much had happened to him in life for him to believe in miracles, but Eddie wanted to believe that Vee would come to appreciate her.

He was quite confident as Y/N was doing her best with the symbiote, trying to talk to him, offering him chocolate, keeping an open mind. Many people would have fled the moment they saw this thing coming out of his body. It was quite a good sign.

But like a wild animal, Venom refused to be coaxed. He wanted Anne, Anne was perfect. Nothing would change his mind. Nothing.

"He hates me." Y/N whispered sadly, even though she knew it was useless, because Venom was always with Eddie, even when she couldn't see him. None of their conversation was private.

"Hate is a strong word… He's stubborn, he believes he's right. It's not really against you. If I had always been single, I think he would adore you."

Eddie thought it would be a good idea to introduce her to Anne. In a sense he was right, because it was evident that there was no longer any romantic feeling between them, and that she was very much in love with her husband.

But Y/N couldn't help but do like Venom, and compare herself to the other woman. Beautiful, intelligent, great lawyer with a strong character. It seemed natural to fall for her.

If he sensed her discomfort, the journalist said nothing, spending the evening laughing with the other couple only keeping his hand on her shoulder, putting it back each time Venom forced him to take it off. He was kind enough not to ask her what she had thought of Anne, or if she was reassured. Maybe he was afraid of the answer too.

After that, things got a little complicated. Without doing it on purpose, Y/N put some distance between them. To protect herself, because she only thought of one thing.

One day, Eddie was going to listen to Venom. One day, he was going to see that even if he no longer loved Anne, he could find someone better, and he was going to leave her.

Well, the alien still had contradictory messages. If Y/N sucked, Eddie sucked too. A loser. When he wasn't busy asking for food or criticizing the young woman, he was insulting his poor host.

And if she ended up not listening to what he said about her, only caring about her boyfriend's opinion, she didn't like it at all that Venom treated Eddie so badly.

"No." she said one day, sitting on the sofa, while the journalist was still arguing with the alien for some stupid reason, before throwing up his arms and agreeing to go buy chocolate and tatter tots to calm him down.

"…Uh ? Sorry, Y/N, are you talking to me ?"

"You're not going out."

"Uh. I'll just go to Madam Cheng's. It'll only take a few minutes."

"Venom doesn't deserve chocolate. You stay here, watch the movie with me, and if he apologizes, then he gets some sugar."

“How dare you, stupid woman ?!” the symbiote shouted, showing all its teeth to scare her.

But Y/N wasn’t afraid anymore. Even though he was rude and mean, he had promised Eddie that he would never hurt her, and he seemed to be an alien of words. Aside from his screams, he had nothing against her.

“You, how dare you ?!” she replied, jumping off the couch, which seemed to surprise both Eddie and the symbiote. "I don't care what you think or say about me. I understand that you don't like me, that I'm not good enough, and you know what ? I agree ! Eddie deserves better than me. But he deserves better than you too ! You're an asshole to him ! I forbid you from talking to him like that, or breaking his nose, even if you fix him right after ! He's a great host, you should thank him and do everything to make him happy."

It was stupid, but she started crying as she spoke. Emotions tended to make her cry, even anger. At the silence of her boyfriend and her non-parasite, Y/N felt bad.

She then had the stupid instinct to go lock herself in the bathroom, to try to calm down and remember how to breathe.

From the other side of the door, she heard whispers, but was unable to tell what they were saying.

Then Eddie knocked gently, asking if he could come in, or if she would come out.

"… He's going to apologize ?"

"Yes, I promise."

Trying her tears to not give Venom another reason to make fun of her, Y/N opened shyly, not daring to look at her boyfriend right away, and stood stupidly in front of him, waiting.

“Vee…”

“I’m sorry, brave little morsel.”

"Hmm ? Oh. No, I meant an apology for Eddie."

“He already apologized, love.”

"I don't need him to apologize to me. He meant what he said, and like I said… He's not wrong. But it's nice."

"Little morsel…" Venom whispered, moving closer to her and looking almost sad. "I was totally wrong. I see it now. Eddie explained it to me, but I wasn't listening."

With Eddie translating what he said, the alien explained that for his species, symbiosis was important. They could have several hosts, but there was only one perfect symbiosis, just one.

Part of him wanted to keep his host to himself, jealous and possessive, but that wasn't possible, because contrary to what his attitude seemed to show, he cared about Eddie's happiness.

That was why he was so insistent that he return to Anne. Because from the memories he had seen of his relationship, he had seemed to be in perfect symbiosis with Anne, and since there was only perfect symbiosis, then he had to do everything to get her back, even if she was married to stupid Dan.

He didn’t hate Y/N. It really wasn't personal, it was just logic and survival instinct.

What Venom failed to understand was that human relationships weren't like symbiosis. And in the end, if he had to compare the two, it was now obvious that Eddie's perfect match was with Y/N.

Yes, his ex had helped them, and she would help them again if necessary. But so did Y/N, who had accepted Eddie's special situation, who had stayed despite the horrible things Venom had said, who protected her lover and tried to please the alien.

"Babe…" Eddie sighed, taking her hands. “If anyone is too good for anyone else here, it’s you.”

"He's right."

"… Thank you Vee."

"But you always say she's too good for you. Once we agree, you might be happy !"

"Eddie… You're saying that ?"

"Of course. I still don't know how I managed to seduce you, or why you didn't run away when you saw Vee, or what I did to deserve that such a great girl could think that she's in love with a guy like…"

He jumped a little when she kissed him to stop him from saying any more nonsense, but Eddie quickly relaxed, clinging to her, pinning her against the wall to accentuate the kiss.

Right in their ears they could hear Venom purring in pleasure. They didn't mind until he licked their cheeks.

"Vee ! It's disgusting !"

"You're not listening to me ! I'm telling you to get into bed ! You're going to hurt Y/N if you stay here. A Lady should be caught in satin sheets, surrounded by rose petals, after foreplay of at least twenty minutes, and satisfied several times."

"… What ?!"

"I really like this idea. Eddie, where are my rose petals and at least twenty minutes of foreplay ?"

"Y/N ! Don't team up against me, please !"

"I can help him with endurance. And the rest. I've seen a lot of videos."

"… Okay ! Remind me to take care of my internet history tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, yeah. Less talk, more passion. Little morsel is waiting, I can feel it, and she's ovulating."

"… Aren't you supposed to go get chocolate from Madam Cheng ?"

"Yes ! And I will take the opportunity to explain for the hundredth time why there are things that should not be said."

“But Y/N is wet.”

"And here we go !"

Despite Eddie's explanations, Venom continued to want to give advice and do everything to make his relationship with Y/N perfect.

After all, he had almost ruined everything, so he felt he had an obligation to help these two idiots be happy, living in harmony and understanding what to do to satisfy the other in every situation.

Even if Eddie was already a caring and kind boyfriend, who Y/N didn't want to leave at all despite this little characteristic.

That said, after the alien took the initiative to help with his tongue once, she wasn't really complaining about it.

[cherriegyuu]

whispers of desire | c.sc | part one

pairing: incubus seungcheol x f!reader  genre: smut, angst, fluff - minors do not interact word count: 7.3k summary: when you cut a deal with the demon king, the man who shows up to help is nothing like you imagined warnings: mentions of god, demons and religion, infertility, infidelity, knives, breeding kink, masturbation, creampie, dirty talking ish, begging, multiple orgarms, unprotected sex, piv, forced orgasm. jeonghan (idk, he deserves a warning too)

a/n: and finally after i don't even know how many months, i finished part one. i really want to thank @ssinboo who not only helped me brainstorm this, but who motivated me into picking it up again. @joonsytip and @nothoughtsjustfic who read it over and promised me that it was good. thank you so much to all three of you, this one would have never left my wips if not for you. i truly hope you enjoy this and if you do please leave comment, i would love to know you thoughts about it! it's 17 minutes past midnight, but i'm going to count this as a valentine's day special

You looked once again at the waiting room—the light gray walls, the black furniture, the small splashes of color here and there. It was mostly modern and imponent but dark. You felt out of place in your bright yellow sweater and almost white pants. You looked like an egg, but when you realized what you had done, it was too late. You were already in the Uber, getting the most incredulous look from the driver. 

The watch on your wrist seemed to mock you. You arrived too early for your appointment, too nervous to stay any longer in your apartment, too queasy to go to the nearby cafe and waste some time. 

You had been sitting on that extremely comfortable couch for 10 minutes, the pretty receptionist giving you suspicious looks followed by insincere smiles. You were so close to just getting up and walking out the door.

It had been a stupid idea. A desperate attempt at one last resort to reaching your dream. The one thing you wanted in life since you were sixteen. But it was, indeed, stupid. How was it possible that a man without a last name, who obviously wasn’t a doctor, could help you get pregnant? Even if he happened to have a magic dick, which you doubted, there was still no chance of you getting pregnant. The problem wasn’t on the sperm donor, it was in you. 

For years, you tried getting pregnant. During the first year you and your husband, now ex-husband, tried in the most natural way: fucked every chance you got, at the most random places, tracking your cycles every month. You knew that for some people getting pregnant took a little more time, so at first, you didn’t think much of it. You managed to convince yourself that the reason why you weren’t getting pregnant was because you had just gotten off birth control and sometimes — most times — the hormones messed up a little too much with the body.

After a year, something felt strange, and little red signs started to go off in your head. It wasn’t natural to take that long, at least according to everyone you knew, so you set a meeting with the doctor and did all the tests in the book. When the results came back and showed that you were infertile it was like the world came crashing down.

In life, many of your plans failed and many of your dreams were taken from you, however being a mother was one that you always carried with you. It was a dream that was yours, truly yours and you didn’t need anyone to make it happen for you. Of course, you couldn’t make a baby on your own, but in the end, it was always your choice. If you didn’t have a husband, you could go to a sperm bank and just choose someone.

Along with your dream, your marriage was also one that didn’t last long. After the initial shock of not being able to have a baby slowly started to pass and the fog that clouded your mind started to lift, you started to think of other ways you could become a mother.  Adoption seemed like a natural path. Your husband, however, didn’t agree with the idea, which led to many fights and eventually a divorce.

The idea of adoption didn't leave you, so you sought out ways to adopt on your own. While the adoption process in itself was excruciatingly difficult as a married person, by yourself was nearly impossible. You went to many people and asked for advice on how to proceed, how to present yourself, what to say and do in front of the social workers. All of them said the same thing “the chances of you getting approved for adoption are very low”.

Every day that went by, with each breath you took, you felt as if the dream of being a mother escaped you, like sand slipping through your fingers.

One day, like many others, you were searching for ways to adopt as a single parent when you came across a forum post talking about an unnamed man who could get anyone to do anything, even things that seemed impossible. You had snorted at the post and almost closed the tap when the word pregnancy seemed to flash in front of your eyes, like a moth drawn to a flame. After you saw it, there was no way you could have closed the tab and moved on to something different. 

You read post after post, comment, after comment, about all of these women who had gotten pregnant after losing all hope. All of them mentioned the same name, Jeonghan. There was no last name. On the very last post was a phone number.

There wasn't enough time to question yourself or your actions, the next thing you knew you had the phone pressed to your ear, setting up a meeting for later that day.

The fact that you were able to set an appointment on such short notice should have made alarms ring in your head. But the alarms only went off while you sat in the waiting room. 

You suddenly stood up and walked to the pretty secretary who was hiding behind the computer.

“Sorry, hi” you waited until she looked at you, and the same polite smile greeted you “Something came up, I need to leave… I'm really sorry”

As the words left your lips the door on the other side of the waiting room opened. A man with a kind smile and hair long enough to cover his forehead greeted you. Despite his smile being inviting, his eyes told an entirely different story. 

“Please, come in”

The little alarms inside your mind suddenly turned silent and the need to flee turned into the desire to follow him inside that office. 

You turned to look at the receptionist, who in return offered you an encouraging nod and smile.

“Sorry to keep you waiting, I had some files that needed attention”

The man, who you could assume was Jeonghan, pulled a chair for you to sit on. He only let go of the chair once you were seated.

“It's okay”

His office was very similar in style to the waiting room, except for the leather chair and the industrial-looking desk. There was no computer, no bookshelf, no degree attached to the wall, just some creepy paintings that looked maybe a little too dark and tenebrous to an office. His desk was also empty of any files, phones, and pens. It was hard to believe that he was going over some files when there was nothing to look at.

“How can I help you today?”

For a second his eyes turned dark, entirely black, before going back to the dark brown color. Eyes of a snake, the words flashed in front of you. Your hold on the straps of your purse tightened until your knuckles turned to white.

It was a mistake going there.

It took an enormous amount of strength to push your body into a standing position.

“I'm sorry, I can't stay” you managed to force the words out, doing your best to smile and sound apologetic “Something came up”

Jeonghan leaned forward, his chin resting on his hand.

“Now, we know that's a lie” there was humor in his voice “You came here for a baby, so do us both a favor and sit down”

It was like your will to leave the room was suppressed by a hand pushing you down back on the chair. That same hand seemed to be holding you in place.

“See? That wasn't so hard”

The back of your neck started to grow cold, your hands sweaty. Your heartbeat with the force of a horse. His eyes turned into snake eyes once again. You felt your entire body grow cold. This time he flashed his eyes for a little more than a second.

“If you promise to be good, I'll stop holding you down” he raised his eyebrows at you, his tone almost bored now “Okay?”

It was a strange sight, a man who was around your age — or at least you thought so –, with soft features to have such eyes. Strange didn't even start to describe it, terrifying was a more precise word, and yet, you weren't scared. 

Perhaps you were at first, after all your initial reaction had been to escape, but while sitting there looking at him you were just curious.

“If you can stop with the eyes,” you used your index and middle finger to point at your own eyes “sure, we'll talk”

Jeonghan pouted but complied. In a millisecond the snake eyes were gone at the same time the pressure on your shoulders subsided. 

“You don't know how to have fun, do you?”

You didn’t bother to answer, you knew that no matter what you said those words wouldn’t make any difference to him and you were sure that your definition of fun was entirely different from his.

“So, a child. That's what you want, your deepest desire?” Jeonghan raised a hand to stop you from talking as if he changed his mind “Of course it is, you don’t have to say it”

It was the way he said it that made a shiver run through your spine. You shouldn’t have gone there. You should have asked someone else to go with you, though who could have been that person was unknown to you.

“Did you bait me into coming here?”

“Well, yeah” he laughed “I'm sure you saved that forum but if you go back there won't be much to see. Let's be realistic here and say that what you want, can be done”

You rolled your eyes and sighed. It wasn't a reaction to what he had said, it was to what you had believed. 

“You were so pathetically desperate that it was so easy getting to you” Jeonghan taunted you “Just one word, one post on a random website was enough to get you here and so fast too! Was it a couple of hours ago?”

Biting your bottom lip was the only possible way to keep your mouth shut, to keep the very much not polite fuck you in the silence of your mind. You tried to get up again, not really willing to sit there and be mocked, but as soon as you made the slightest movement you felt that hand again on your shoulder holding you down, this time much more forceful than the previous one.

“You said that we were going to talk, so, let’s talk”

“I want to go,” you said between your teeth “now”

Jeonghan tilted his head to the side, his snake eyes making an appearance again.

“Silly girl, you should have listed to your grandma when she warned you about what your wishes could bring” a sickening smile made its way to his face, paired with his eyes made your stomach drop all the way down to your toes “Now you can only leave when I saw so”

A sudden memory crossed your mind, one from your childhood. Of you sitting in your grandma’s lap when you couldn’t be older than seven. She said don’t wish for impossible things, you never know who or what could be listening. Your grandma was catholic, always with her rosary in her hand, or wrapper around her wrist or on her neck.

It became painfully obvious who Jeonghan was. From the snake eyes, the smile, how graceful he looked.

“Shit” the curse was almost silent.

He smiled once again, his eyes back to normal. It was all the confirmation you needed from him.

Nights had become a lonely part of the day, not that they were eventful before the divorce but at least you weren't always by yourself. 

Somehow you had allowed yourself to become one of those people who are only friends with their husband's friends so when the divorce happened it was obvious that most Of them — in this case, all of them — stayed with your ex-husband. You also hadn't really helped the situation when you closed yourself off. It had become too much, finding out that you were infertile, a possible affair from your husband, and the inevitable divorce. It was only natural for you to isolate yourself.

It seemed though that not many people seemed to understand it. Your so-called friends, who you cried with when the results came back, seemed to think that crying over was ridiculous, that one week was more than enough to move on from the entire thing, it's not like you don't have a life outside of this dream. 

And while all of that was true, it was much easier saying it than doing it. You felt as if you were spiraling down with nothing to hold onto, without anyone by your side. 

So, nights by yourself, with a bottle of wine and some takeout had become your new normal.

You were in the kitchen when you heard a faint knock on the door. Since visitors were few and you weren't expecting anyone, you assumed that it was on your neighbor. Someone probably knocking with a little more strength than necessary. It wasn't unusual. Your neighbor had loud and often drunk friends you had gotten used to their shenanigans during the three years you lived there.

All you did was keep doing the dishes, swaying your body from side to side with the music you had been playing in the background as you tried your best to forget that entire week and how you had willingly walked into a pile of shit but had no idea of how to get out of it.

The sound of the door opening made you close the faucet. A look at the clock above the door told you that there was no way for your neighbors to be back yet, not when you had heard them leave less than an hour before. You didn’t know why you thought that it could have been them. There was no doubt that the opened door was in your apartment.

You took a knife from the holder, wrapping your hand tightly around the handle. Your hand was still wet from doing the dishes so you held onto the knife as strongly as you could, until your knuckles turned white.

The one good thing about old apartments is that there were certain places that cracked and you knew exactly where those were, so you also knew how to avoid them. Whoever was in your apartment didn’t.

A small part of your brain hoped that it was your ex-husband. If it was, the worst thing that would happen was for you to look like an idiot in front of him, for the millionth time since you met him. Looking stupid was much much better than having to deal with an intruder or a murderer.

You took one last breath before pushing your bedroom door fully open.

“Don’t you dare throw that knife at me”

A man in a purple suit stood in the center of your room. His hair was bright red, pushed back. He looked like he had come out of one of those comic books your brother read as a child. He had your wedding album in his hand. He went through the pages, a pout in his lips and he scanned all the pictures, assessing what he was seeing.

“It’s not polite to hold a knife at your guest,” he said matter of factly.

“Who the fuck are you?” your grip on the handle tightened as if such a thing was even possible to begin with.

He turned the photo album to you, showing you a picture of yourself alone, smiling after throwing the bouquet at your wedding. It was a spontaneous picture, a true smile. That woman in the picture was an entirely different person. Looking at her it was hard to believe that you had been her at some point in time.

“You looked happier here” he pointed out, turning the album back to himself, still pouting “I don’t think she’d hold a knife at a guest”

“Who are you?” you demanded again, your voice louder, desperate.

The man rolled his eyes at you, finally closing the book and throwing it on your bed.

“Think about it, we both know you’re smart” he lightly raised his eyebrows at you “A little over a week ago you had a weird… dream? That’s what you made yourself think, wasn’t it?”

For a moment it was hard to pull air inside your lungs.

You thought that you had gone crazy. You clearly remembered getting out of the apartment, of going downtown in an Uber, of the waiting room, of talking to Jeonghan. But you didn’t remember walking out of the building or how you got home. You just… somehow found yourself back in your bed, in your pajamas in the middle of the night. The clock marked 3:33 AM.

“That was Jeonghan’s fault so I won’t hold it over your head too much. He likes to play tricks like that”

He sat on your bed, arms stretched back, thighs parted. A cocky smile on his lips and you could swear that your legs melted a little when you noticed that he had nothing under the suit jacket.

“Who are you?” you asked again, this time your voice wasn’t as loud or as demanding.

The man raised his eyebrows again and you could swear that it did something to you, tickling a place you didn’t know it needed to be tickled. He moved his chin lightly as if pointing to the knife. You sighed and put the knife down, holding it closer to your body. But that wasn't enough for the man, he pointed at the dresser. You rolled your eyes but did as asked. You didn't dare to get closer to him though. You simply crossed your arms over your chest and leaned against it. 

"I'm Seungcheol," the man said, only when he was sure that there was no chance of you stabbing him "Choi Seungcheol"

"I didn't know demons had last names"

His pout was still in place, as he seemed to be thinking of what to say next.

"We're civil enough, though me coming in without your permission might not be the best proof of character" he was quick to add when you opened your mouth to object. 

It didn't matter how much you tried, nothing came to mind when you thought about your conversation with Jeonghan. All of it was a big blank. You remembered getting there, him scaring you, the realization of who he was but nothing after that.

“The word you’re looking for is demon king,” he said. 

His eyes seemed to assess you, each and every movement you made. Seungcheol’s eyes never left you, not even for a second. When you moved to the chair on the opposite side of the room he followed you, adjusting his own body he would be seated directly in front of you. 

If your memory served you right, which at that point you had no idea, Jeonghan seemed to know what you were thinking. You were inclined to think that he couldn’t actually read your thoughts because according to Seungcheol, again if you could take his words for anything, demons too were civil and would just be way too invasive, but he was awfully good at knowing exactly what you were thinking. But then again, Jeonghan seemed to know way too much in the first meeting. Were the files he was looking at something like your life’s history? Where you were born, about your parents, your first boyfriend, your college crush, your husband, and everything that happened after?

You did your best not to focus too much on the demon king thing. If you did, your mind would take you somewhere else entirely and you weren’t sure if you could go there at that moment. Actually, you were sure you shouldn’t, especially because if you did the man in front of you, or a demon, would probably laugh. And being laughed at wasn’t something you were ready for at the moment.

“Okay,” you said slowly, exhaling all the air in your lungs all at once “Jeonghan is the demon king”

Seungcheol nodded, a small smile on his lips as he was proud of a child who had just given a correct answer. 

“That makes you…?”

“An incubus”

You closed your eyes for a second, folding your legs in front of you. Incubus… the demon who would sleep with women in their sleep and get them pregnant, and these women birthed demon-like children. 

Fantastic.

“So, magic dick,” you said, half not believing what you were saying, on how easily it seemed for you to understand it all “Great” 

That seemed to pull out an honest laugh out of Seungcheol, to the point a dimple made its way into his cheek. You couldn't help but smile along with him. 

“Something along those lines, yes”

He stood up, his eyes no longer filled with laughter and amusement. They had turned darker, hungry even. At that very second you felt like a prey under his eyes. You bit your bottom lip and he got closer to you, his eyes focused on your lips as he moved deliberately slowly to get to you. It seemed that your room was much, much, bigger than it actually was, almost like there was an entire runaway between him and you. 

You stood up as well, though that was probably a bad idea, considering how wobbly your legs felt. 

Seungcheol smiled, not in the cute and almost condescending way of before, but in a way that was much darker and held so many promises at the same time. He took your hand, pulled you towards the center of the room, walking backward.

“So, this is it? No flirting, no nice words, no dinner. Just straight-up sex” 

You hoped that your tone was light, teasing. Though there was nothing light about the way you were feeling. The few inches of your skin that were under his touch felt like were on fire. 

It had been a long time since you were with anyone, your husband was the last one a year and a half before. That wasn't to say that you hadn't found any sort of pleasure, but it had always been by yourself.

You couldn't help but wonder if part of the heat on your skin came from the lack of contact or if it was because of him. Something told you that it was a mix of both. 

“Well, you had dinner before I even got here and I thought you holding a knife was flirting”

Seungcheol circled you. The hand that held Yours suddenly pressed on your stomach, holding you against his firm chest. He pressed his nose to the crook of your neck. Giving him more access to your skin felt almost natural.

You felt his lips on the back of your neck. It started as a chaste kiss, followed by the burn of his teeth sinking into your skin and then soothed by his tongue flat over the space he had just bitten. 

“Are you a vampire?” you hoped your voice sounded steady but even to your ears it was breathy, close to a moan. The thing… the man… had barely touched you and you were ready to just melt under him. 

Seungcheol’s chest vibrated against your back and he leaned into your neck once again, now biting the other side. 

“Never met one of those, but if you want, I can become one for the night”

It suddenly crossed your mind “would he do anything I ask?” but you didn’t have it in you to ask. More than that, you didn’t know what to ask. You wanted too much but at the same time, you weren't sure where to begin. 

Slowly, Seungcheol ran his hand down your body. You felt your core tighten at the proximity, wetness slowly damping your panties. You were in a haze, one you didn’t want to come out of. 

“Tell me what you want. Whatever you want, however, you want it. It’s all yours”

It was like he had somehow heard your thoughts. Was that also part of his abilities? Magic dick and mind reading? Seemed like good powers to have. 

He nuzzled your neck again, this time placing kisses all over your skin as he slid down the strap of your shirt and continued his discovery of your skin. But your shoulder was not the place you wanted to feel him the most, it was not the spot that was craving for attention. 

Seungcheol ran his nose over your shoulder, the curve of your neck, up to your ear. 

“Ah, not so sweet and innocent after all” the hot breath over your skin made your entire body flame up. 

Finally, he lowered his hand, going under the elastic band of your shorts. He roughly rubbed his palm over your covered clit as his other hand went up to your breast, tugging at the hard nipple.

“You’re this wet and we barely even started?” he nibbled on your ear “You were all brave with that knife but all you can think about now is my magic dick filling you over and over and over again. Right, sweetheart?”

He pushed your panties to the side, his finger finally rubbing over your sensitive clit. A whimper left your lips as he was exactly where you needed, but it was far from enough. 

“Oh, I’m going to have so much fun with you”

He circulated your slit with two fingers. Once, twice, three times. 

“Please” you whispered. 

You felt his smile at the same time he pushed his fingers into you, your arousal more than enough to suck him in. You sucked in a moan as he picked up speed with his fingers, then another when his palm pressed over your clit adding another layer of pleasure. 

“Make that pretty noise for me again, sweetheart,” he asked, his voice low, though commanding “Let me hear you”

You tried your best to stay quiet, to not make any sound, and let the only sound in the room be the almost obnoxious noise of his fingers slipping in and out of you. But when Seungcheol found that one spot, that tiny piece of skin that made your mind almost go blank it was impossible to be silent. 

The sound coming out of you was pathetic, each new moan getting louder as you felt your abdomen cramp. The louder you got, the faster he moved his fingers. He didn’t stop pumping his fingers, didn’t stop pressing his palm on your clit, until the tide finally broke loose. 

You tried to shut your legs, suddenly the stimulation was too much at once, but Seungcheol was willing to let that happen. He kicked your feet apart, using his own knees to keep yours proudly open. 

Your orgasm hit you harder than ever before, your body convulsing in his grip, shaking as each new wave of pleasure hit you, somehow stronger than before. Seungcheol held you together until your body calmed down. A moan that could have been easily mistaken for a sob, came out of your lips, a light tremor in your legs, though you were certain that it was no longer visible. 

Seungcheol slowly guided your body towards the bed, both of his hands on your hips, steadying you. He sat you down on the bed and took a couple of steps back. He didn’t say anything as he opened the button on his suit and pulled it off his shoulder, tossing it aside on the chair to his left. 

He was teasing you, that much was obvious. Under normal circumstances you’d have looked away but as he unbuttoned his pants you couldn’t force yourself to look away. Your mind was in a trance by him, he had your undivided attention and he loved it. 

His movements were deliberately slow, a cocky grin making its way to his face as he noticed your eyes following the movements of his hands. 

The only piece of clothing covering Seungcheol was his underwear, though it did very little to disguise his erection. Your mouth watered at the sight, a nagging feeling on the back of your mind telling you to get down on your knees in front of him and take all of him into your mouth - or at least as much as it could fit anyway. 

Seungcheol laughed as he finally pushed the last piece of cotton off. You bit your lip to stop yourself from moaning at the sight of him on full display. Every inch of his devilish body, in full glory, was mesmerizing. You felt you pussy clench around nothing as Seungcheol started to pump his dick. 

“We’ll have enough time to play later tonight,” he moved closer to you, standing in between your legs, his cock was close to you face that you simply inch forward and have him like you wanted, he had different ideas though “but right now I want to know what it feels like to be buried deep inside that sweet, sweet, pussy”

You reached down to the hem of your shirt, pulling it over your head. It was only when you reached for the elastic band of your shorts that you felt the embarrassment creeping up every inch of your body. 

“Come on, sweetheart, don’t hide yourself from me”

He lightly pushed you onto the bed, his knee pressing against your center and he scooped you up on the bed. He grabbed you by the hips and flipped you so that your face was pressed into the mattress. 

He pushed your shorts down, though not boring to take them off all the way down. Seungcheol straddled your legs and he teased your pussy with the tip of his cock. Running it over the slick entrance but never fully pushing it inside. 

You tried to change the position in a way to force him to just sink in but he was having none of that. He gripped your head by your hair, pulling it back until your ass up in the air, your back arched in a way that should be painful but somehow all it did was heighten your pleasure. 

“Beg” he whispered against your ear, his voice deliciously low.

“What?” you breathed out as he continued to tease you, your body moving along with his, a new whimper escaping every time he almost pushed inside. 

“I’m not going to make it that easy for you” he laughed “You wanna be fucked? I’ll fuck in ways you can’t even imagine. But you’re going to have to beg”

In any other situation, in any other moment of your life, you’d have felt embarrassed by his demand, to some extent would even have felt angry towards it. But right in that second, with the promise of what was to come, saying a few words sounded like a fair price to pray. 

“Please, please, Seungcheol” you begged, voice dripping with need and honey as you moved your hips wanting nothing more than to just be filled “just fuck me, fill me up. All of me is yours…” for the night.

He didn’t let you finish, pushing his cock into your throbbing pussy. There was no time to adjust. Seungcheol drove his dick into you again and again, each thrust harder than the previous one. He pulled your arms back, holding them against his chest with his own. 

Each sound that left your mouth was increasingly louder but you didn’t care in the slightest. Seungcheol’s grunts behind you, the slapping of his skin against yours every time he drove into you was intoxicating.

“Oh my god” you chanted over and over again

“No, no, not god” he laughed, biting the soft skin of your shoulder “He can't help you now”

He snaked a hand around your waist directly to your clit, massaging it in slow circles, in high contrast to his dick. The pressure was just perfect, his pace never faulting. 

An orgasm hit you yet again, without notice, this time not as hard as the first one, but still enough to have you shaking to the core. Seungcheol held you even tighter, his pace relentless as he searched for his own high. 

You felt his warm cum splurged into you, too much of it. 

Your body felt limp on the bed, all energy drained out of you, not a single drop left. You turned, looking at the ceiling, trying to steady your breathing, waiting for the tremors to pass when you felt Seungcheol his hand over your thigh. 

He pushed your shorts and panties all the way down, tossing them on the floor with a mute sound. He spread your legs and smiled proudly, seemingly happy with his work. It only lasted a second though, as a frown took over his features. 

“You’re wasting it, sweetheart” he tsked “We can’t have that, now can we?”

You felt his hand on your sensitive cunt and tried to flinch away but he didn't bulge. His finger grazed over your clit before he pushed them into you. You held his wrist, trying to push his hand away. 

“No, it’s too much” you shook your head, pleading “Please, I can’t, please”

He laughed at your words, pinning the hand that held his wrist over your head. Seungcheol kissed your breast, taking the nipple into his mouth, sucking hard, and blowing on it a second later, all while he pumped his fingers in your pussy, pushing back inside all the cum that had dripped out. 

“You can” you bit your lower lip and tugged at it “and, most importantly, we both know you want it”

You could only shake your head as the pleasure became too much, almost unbearable. Almost. You felt yet another orgasm build up again, like your entire body was throbbing, closing itself tightly before it finally broke free.

Seungcheol swallowed your scream, kissing your lips, neck, and shoulders as your body spasmed. Your quiet whimpers were the only sound in the room. He only pulled his fingers out of you when you calmed down completely.

“That’s it” he kissed your cheek, letting go of your hands and using them to hold his head so he could look down at you “See, I told you you could it”

Out of the possible outcomes of the previous night waking up to a mop of red hair on the other side of the bed wasn’t one of them. You were certain that when you woke up you’d realize that the night had been a dream — the most real one you had ever had in your life but that was beside the point. 

Just for good measure, you pressed your index finger to the shoulder of the man. Warm and soft skin was under your finger.

Okay, not a dream then.

You turned on your back, facing the ceiling of your bedroom. The night played vividly in your mind. The way Seungcheol pressed the first kiss to the back of your neck and how that alone was enough to make you go crazy under his touch. Not only that, how you were so willing to completely let yourself go to him, how every time he whispered in your ear, chills ran down your entire body and you could feel him everywhere.

You couldn’t help but wonder if all of your emotions had been heightened because he was…. him. A demon. Or if you were just so touch-starved that the smallest caress was enough to drive you over the edge.

Most of all, you couldn’t look past all how you had been so incredibly reckless. A random man who looked like he had gotten out of some comic book suddenly showed up in your room — mind you without using the door — and you somehow, for whatever reason, thought that it was a good idea to have sex with him. And then, as if all of that wasn’t enough, you still fell asleep by his side like it was the most normal thing in the world like he was someone you could trust entirely.

You covered your eyes with your arm, a groan leaving your lips.

There was still the whole “deal with the demon king” part that you were yet to think about.

It seemed unfair that you couldn’t remember what you agreed on. You should have the chance to prepare for whatever was to come, didn’t you? The demon king, or Jeonghan, you weren’t sure how you should address him, was well… unfair.

“Are you usually this loud so early in the morning?”

Your entire body jumped on the bed and a scream died in your throat. For a couple of minutes, you had been so lost in your mind that you forgot that Seungcheol was by your side at all.

His voice in the early morning, just after waking up, was almost made out of honey, velvety, tingling in your ears. By your side, Seungcheol had turned to you, his eyes barely open, his full lips pulled almost in a pout, a few strands of hair covering his face. You had to grip the sheets closer to your body just so you could suppress the desire to move them aside.

Your eyes moved slightly down, to his half-exposed chest. Another flash of the night before crossed your mind, of him over you, the way the chain around his neck hung just over your nose, how you used it to pull him to you again.

“You look cute when you blush,” he said with a lazy smile on his lips. You felt your cheeks warm but didn’t think it was enough to cause any visible change. 

Seungcheol folded his arm, holding his head up. The sleepy smile he gave you was the most delicious thing you had ever seen, it was enough to take your breath away all over again. You were happy that you were still in bed, otherwise there was a chance that your legs might have given in under you.

“I didn’t think you’d stay” was all you said as you swung your feet out of the bed, looking for the pajamas that were lost somewhere on the floor.

It was on the other side of the room, how it had ended up there was beyond you. You gripped the sheet closer around your body but you were only able to move one step away from the bed before you felt it being pulled back.

“You know, I already saw everything there’s under those sheets” you didn’t turn to him but you could hear the smile in his voice “In fact, I did a lot more than just look at it”

You took a deep breath and closed your eyes. You were certain that if you forced the sheets out of his grip, Seungcheol would have let go of it but if he did such a thing then he would be the one exposed, and while you were sure that he had no problem with the idea, everything you screamed that if you saw him naked again there was no way that you would just have a redo of the night before.

Letting go of the sheets, you walked to the other side of the room, opening the dresser drawer and pulling out a clean pair of panties and bra.

“I’m going to shower and by the time I finish it I want you gone”

Seungcheol’s laughter still echoed through the apartment when you closed the bathroom door.

You had managed to keep yourself busy enough during the weekend that you had almost forgotten about Friday night. The keyword being almost. Usually, you would have come up with an excuse to not help your sister during the weekend. She was a wedding planner, a very good one at that — she had been the one to plan your wedding — and highly sought out so it was easier to find her working than being at home.

The reason why you always declined was that weddings, while they could be wildly different from one another, there were things that were the same, didn’t who was at the isle. Two people were promising each other eternal love.

When you saw those people, standing in front of each other, eyes filled with love and hope, you couldn’t help but think about Joshua. How you had once been in that exact spot, saying similar words, how you had been happy with him for so many years until all of it came crashing down on you. The only thing that love left behind were scars that were still all too fresh but hidden enough that no one would ever see them.

Still, working during the weekend with your sister was better than staying at home and thinking about all the stupid decisions you made and how much you’d love to make at least one of them once again. She was also kind enough to let you work on the setup and then later back in the kitchen. Maybe she had some sort of sixth sense that said that you need to get out of your mind. Her call was at the right moment.

Even so, there were moments when you were on your own, in the darkness of your bedroom, when Seungcheol’s perfume somehow still lingered in the air. There was no escape then. It was like a replay of that night played in your head again and again, and everytime it it did there was a new detail that you had somehow forgotten.

It was both a blessing and a curse.

You ran your hand over your face and hair, urging your mind to just stop and let yourself fall asleep. You had a meeting early in the morning and you needed your sleep, just so you could function like a semi-normal human being.

You were in the kitchen when you heard a sound in your bedroom. Your heart skipped a beat, hoping that maybe… just maybe… You shook your head in an attempt to come back to reality. The chance of seeing Seungcheol once again was below zero. You heard the sound again and this time your heart wasn’t the only thing doing a weird flip inside your chest, you also felt chills run down your skin.

The third time the sound came you felt as if you were under a cold shower when it was followed by the sound of laughter in the hallway that belonged to your neighbor. 

It was hard swallowing the expectation that had somehow found its way into you. You weren’t even sure why you were expecting something in the first place. After that night it was clear that there wasn’t going to be a second one. Not that there was any conversation on the matter, it just seemed like the most natural option. 

If things had gone according to plan, and if your mind was worthy of any trust, apparently it did, there was no real reason why you should ever see Seungcheol again. And yet, there you were wishing that he’d just show up again, and for what? 

You set the glass of water down, wishing you could have something strong – God knew that if you wanted to sleep you’d need some help – but not wanting to risk anything. Shutting down the lights in the kitchen and living room.

Before you even opened the door to your room you felt this shift in the air. You pushed it open, hard enough that it smashed against the wall. 

“You must really love your kitchen, the second time I show up here and the second time you're in the kitchen”

You closed your eyes for a second, basking in the sound of his voice, how it made chills erupt in your skin. 

“Second time you don’t use the door”

“I’ll be sure to remember that”

Seungcheol smiled, hands in his pocket. 

“You better”

Before you gave yourself a chance to think about it, you crossed the room in two strides and pulled him to you. Seungcheol smiled against your lips before he finally kissed you. 

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