#but when I listen to it I hear and feel the weight in the lyrics

[cosmiclily]

chapter nine: the edge

wc: 2.8k

notes: next chapter will be the interview that i mentioned a couple of chapters ago!!! pls send some questions to our fellow rock stars

Apparently, sex was, in fact, a fantastic creative exercise—or at the very least, an excellent incentive for spitting out lyrics. Once you figured that out, the entire process of choosing lyrics, organizing tracks, and brainstorming ideas became a hell of a lot easier.

Writer’s block? Fixed with Vi’s hands gripping your hips, her mouth marking a trail down your stomach.

Frustrated over a melody that wouldn’t click? Easily solved by the way she pressed you into the mattress and pulled sounds from your lips sweeter than any song you’d ever written.

Tension from long hours in the studio? Well… she had a very effective method of dealing with that.

Of course, you weren’t oblivious. You knew exactly what Vi was doing—using you as a distraction, a way to keep from drowning in whatever emotions those songs dragged back up. You knew she was using you to not think about her. Caitlyn.

But when Vi held you like that, when her fingers tangled in your hair, when she bit down on your neck just enough to make you shiver, when she touched you exactly the way you needed to be touched? None of that mattered. Not even a little.

And, honestly? It was a great way to de-stress.

The long nights spent cramped in the studio became more bearable when you knew you could go home and have Vi all to yourself.

It was like having a place where the weight of the world could just melt away. You got to pull her closer, scratch, bite, and touch every inch of her as if she was yours to do with as you pleased.

And the memories were almost addictive. Every time the pressure of the studio, the deadlines, or a fight with someone built up, you could close your eyes and retreat to your happy place.

“We’re almost finished here,” Archie said, barely looking up from his tablet. “Mark was talking to me about promotions, interviews, appearances—the whole deal. So clear your schedules.”

You sat back in your chair, stretching your arms over your head with a satisfied sigh. For the first time in months, the studio didn’t feel like a pressure cooker. No one was snapping at each other out of frustration, no one was sulking over failed ideas, and—most importantly—no one was on the verge of throwing their instruments against the wall.

The hard part was finally done.

You’d recorded a couple of solid tracks, and almost every song you wanted for the album was ready. The weight that had been crushing your shoulders for months had finally eased, letting you breathe a little easier.

“Finally,” Jinx groaned, throwing herself onto the couch with a dramatic sigh. “If I had to listen to one more version of that last chorus, I think I’d start hearing it in my dreams.”

Ekko smirked, tuning his bass idly. “You say that like you don’t already.”

Jinx pointed a finger at him without lifting her head. “Shut it, time boy.”

Vi chuckled from her spot by the drum set, twirling a drumstick between her fingers. “Admit it—you’re gonna miss all this once we’re done.”

Jinx peeked up at her with a lazy grin. “I’ll miss driving you crazy. That part was fun.”

You shook your head, laughing, before glancing back at Archie. “So, what’s next?”

Archie scrolled through his tablet before giving you all a pointed look. “Now? We get ready to *sell* this thing. That means promo shoots, interviews, maybe even a live session or two.” He narrowed his eyes. “So, try not to look half-dead for the cameras, alright?”

You snorted. “No promises.”

“Great. Love the enthusiasm,” Archie deadpanned before turning back to his notes. “Now, let’s talk deadlines…”

He turned his tablet to us, displaying his calendar.

“This month, we’ll be finishing the recording, and the producers will take care of the rest. Next week, we want to shoot some pictures for the cover and also do some introductions for your channel—you know, fan stuff,” he rushed through, glancing up at us, his finger hovering over the screen. “And we want to do an interview, answering questions from your fans, and some general stuff.”

He continued explaining the calendar details, but you couldn’t help but notice the way everyone else’s faces seemed to blur into confusion. You weren’t the only one who was a little lost in the whirlwind of the plans. With everything that had been happening in the studio lately, the reality of the promotion process felt like a whole new beast to tackle. The recording was one thing, but now there were public appearances, live sessions, photo shoots, and interviews to manage too.

Vi, sensing the shared hesitation, shot you a quick, silent look across the room, one brow arched in that familiar, unspoken question. Is this what we’re really getting into?

You couldn’t help but grin and shrug. “Fan stuff, huh? Sounds… fun.”

Jinx leaned back in her chair with a loud groan. “Wait, wait, hold up. So now we’re gonna have to look good for the cameras too?” She ran a hand through her messy hair. “I mean, sure, we look good, but I’m not exactly camera ready.”

Ekko chuckled, clearly amused. “Jinx, I think the camera is going to need a lot more than a filter to handle you.”

Jinx shot him a glare. “If you’re trying to be funny, it’s not working.”

Archie’s face was a mixture of professional concern and barely-contained amusement. “Look, I know this is a lot, but we’ve been working for this moment. The album’s almost ready, and now we need to give people a taste of what’s coming. You want them to care, right? Then we have to make them care.”

Vi, ever the voice of reason, raised her hand, leaning forward to address the group. “We’ve been locked in here for months. It’s time to show the world what we’ve been working on. Let’s just get it over with, yeah?”

There was a brief silence, followed by murmurs of agreement. Everyone seemed to acknowledge the inevitable.

“Alright,” you said with a deep breath, sitting up straighter, “let’s just get this done. We’ve made it this far.”

Archie nodded, satisfied. “Good. So, here’s the schedule for the next two weeks. Let’s get moving on it.” He handed out the specific tasks and assignments, detailing each member’s role in the upcoming photo shoots, interviews, and other appearances.

As he wrapped things up, the room fell into a quiet hum of anticipation. This was the next phase—one where the music wasn’t the only thing that mattered anymore.

──────────────────────

You were paired off in twos to film a short introduction video for yourselves and the album—Vi and you, and Ekko with Jinx. Archie gave you the freedom to choose where you wanted to film and what you could talk about (as long as you stuck to the schedule, of course).

Vi suggested filming at your place, claiming “the plants give off a nice vibe.” You didn’t argue—if it made things easier, you were all for it. So, to your apartment you went.

As you both stepped inside, Vi kicked off her boots near the door while you tossed your keys onto the table, the familiar clatter echoing in the quiet space. The apartment felt weirdly calm compared to the chaotic energy of the studio. But now came the hard part��figuring out what the hell to do for this video.

“So, what do you think we should do?” Vi asked, her voice casual as she wandered over to your living room, eyeing the plants like they’d give her the answer.

You trailed behind her, chewing on the inside of your cheek. What could you film that would actually reflect your energy without coming off as too much… or, worse, boring?

“Honestly? I’ve got no clue.” You flopped onto the couch, sighing. “Ekko and Jinx are doing some painting session or whatever since they’ve got that in common. But us?” You gestured vaguely between the two of you. “What do we do? Besides, you know…” You trailed off with a smirk, your mind flashing back to Vi's very creative methods of stress relief.

Vi chuckled, flopping down beside you and tossing her legs over your lap. “Yeah, I don’t think that’s exactly the vibe Archie’s looking for.” She shot you a teasing grin. “Though I’m sure it’d get us a hell of a lot of views.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “Yeah, not trying to get us banned off every platform before the album even drops.”

Vi leaned back, staring at the ceiling in thought. “Okay, so… no painting, no X-rated content.” She tapped her fingers against the couch rhythmically. “What about something simple? Like us just talking about the songs, the process, you know?”

You made a face. “That sounds kinda… stiff. Everyone’s gonna do that. I mean, sure, we talk about the songs, but there’s gotta be something more us in it.”

Vi was quiet for a second before her eyes lit up. “What if we do something more casual? Like, we’re just hanging out, talking shit, maybe playing some old tracks and reacting to them?” She grinned, nudging your shoulder. “You know, let people see the real us—chaotic mess and all.”

You laughed, the idea settling in your mind. That actually sounded like fun. “Alright, yeah. I like that. Maybe we can even throw in some behind-the-scenes clips? Like the time Jinx nearly set the mic on fire?”

Vi burst out laughing. “Or when Ekko tripped over his own bass cable and tried to play it off like nothing happened?”

The two of you were already in stitches, the tension from earlier melting away. This felt right—natural, fun, and totally you.

“Okay,” you said, standing up and grabbing your phone. “Let’s set this up before we lose the vibe. You grab the speaker, I’ll get the camera.”

Vi gave you a mock salute. “Aye aye, captain.”

In no time, your makeshift filming set was ready. You grabbed some snacks, adjusted the lighting just enough to look effortless, and set the camera to start recording.

You both introduced yourselves, diving into the story of how the band came together. It felt natural, almost like reminiscing with an old friend rather than filming something for fans.

“At first, it was just the two of us,” Vi said, pointing between the two of you with a grin. “We were messing around, trying to figure out our sound. Then my younger sister decided to be extremely annoying while we practiced—always yapping about how two people weren’t a real band. Eventually, she dragged Ekko into this mess, and, well… here we are.”

You laughed, the memory still vivid. “Oh, I definitely remember the first time Jinx quite literally dragged him into that old room at school—the one we used for practice. She barged in, shouting about how Ekko had a garage we could use, and how she had all these brilliant ideas.”

Vi chuckled, shaking her head. “Yeah! I remember that. Poor Benzo looked so displeased with a bunch of teenagers making a racket in the back of his shop. I’m pretty sure he aged ten years in that first month alone.”

You both laughed, the camera kept rolling, but for a moment, it didn’t even feel like it was there.

As Vi continued talking about the process of creating the album—how the songs and lyrics meant so much to all of you—your mind began to wander. You couldn’t help but notice how effortlessly beautiful she looked, sitting there comfortably, her voice steady and confident as she spoke to the camera. The black hair dye had almost completely faded from her hair, leaving the natural pink vibrant and bright against her skin. Her hair had grown out a bit, just enough that it curled slightly at the ends, and you found yourself fighting the urge to reach out and drag your fingers through those soft, messy locks.

Your eyes traced the freckles scattered across her cheeks, the way they bridged her nose, delicate and familiar. And her eyes—God, her eyes sparkled when she talked about something she was passionate about, like the music, like this. It was the kind of sparkle that pulled you in, made you want to listen to her forever, just to keep that light alive.

It was almost like…

Oh.

Oh.

No, no, no, no.

You were not catching feelings. That was impossible. This was supposed to be casual—just fun. You both knew that from the start. So what the fuck were you thinking?

Panic tightened in your chest, a cold, sharp edge to the realization sinking in. You were spiraling, and you barely registered Vi’s voice cutting through your thoughts.

“Hey,” she said, her brows furrowed, concern softening her features. “You good? Do you want to take a break?”

You blinked, trying to pull yourself out of the fog. “Huh? Sorry, what was the question?”

She tilted her head, studying you carefully. “Are you okay? You look kinda out of it.”

Your heart was still racing, but you forced a tight smile. “Yeah, that would be great.” You stood up from the couch, barely meeting her eyes as you made a beeline for the bathroom.

Once inside, you shut the door behind you and leaned heavily against the sink, gripping its edges like it could anchor you to reality. Your reflection stared back, wide-eyed and flushed, like you’d been caught doing something you weren’t supposed to.

This is NOT happening. You mentally shouted at yourself, trying to shake the feeling off. *You’ve known her for years. The moment you start sleeping with her is the moment you catch feelings? Seriously?*

You turned on the tap, splashing cold water onto your face, hoping the chill would snap you out of it, wash away the thoughts clinging to your mind. But as the water dripped from your chin, pooling at the edges of the sink, the tightness in your chest remained.

Staring at your reflection, you whispered under your breath, “Get it together.”

But no matter how many times you repeated it, the weight of what you were feeling didn’t budge.

You took a deep breath, trying to steady yourself before stepping out of the bathroom. The moment you did, you saw Vi in the living room, methodically packing up the filming equipment. The casual ease with which she moved, like this was just another normal day, only made the knot in your chest tighten.

“What are you doing?” you asked, your voice sounding steadier than you felt.

Vi glanced up, pausing as she turned off the camera. “I think we’ve got enough material for today—maybe even the whole video,” she said, her tone light but tinged with something softer, more careful. “I can see you’re tired. I’ll come over tomorrow, and we can go through the footage, see what we can use. For now, you should rest.”

Her words were simple, but the small smile tugging at the corners of her lips wasn’t. It wasn’t just the usual smirk or playful grin—it was something else. Genuine concern. And that look … it hit you like a sucker punch.

Because all you could think about was how easy it would be to want this every day. To have her not just in fleeting moments, not just in casual touches or hurried nights. But fully. Completely. The idea burrowed itself deeper into your mind, wrapping around your thoughts like vines.

“Yeah,” you forced out, your voice quieter than before. “That sounds good.”

Vi gave you one last glance, like she wanted to say something more, but instead, she just nodded, slinging her bag over her shoulder before heading for the door. The soft click of it shutting behind her echoed louder than it should have.

And then it was just you. Alone.

You stood there for a moment, staring at the now-empty room, expecting some sense of relief to wash over you. But it didn’t. If anything, the silence made it worse.

You should’ve been able to crash the moment she left, but sleep was the last thing your body wanted. You were confused, frustrated—mad at yourself, mad at her, for making you feel this way. Your body felt heavy, physically exhausted, but your mind was running on overdrive, replaying every glance, every touch, every word she’d said.

You sank onto the couch, rubbing your hands over your face.

You’d told yourself from the start—this was supposed to be casual.Just a way to blow off steam, nothing more. But somewhere along the way, those lines had blurred, and now you didn’t know how to pull yourself back from the edge.

──────────────────────

masterlist - chapter ten

taglist: @saturnhas82moons @oidloid @vaebear @wicked-laugh @baylegend6 @nomarksonelegance @antobooh @80saturn

[domm1etae]

OKAY WAIT HEAR ME OUT I JS HAD A IDEA. In honor of ateez nee comeback obviously.. the lyrics “you the one im tryna finish” HELLO?

SO! Yunho smut, where he js comes home from preforming the new somg, still in his suit.. then you rant abt the mv.. AND JT LEADS TO EATING U OUT!

“you the one im tryna finish”

you the one im tryna finish

yunho x f!reader

oneshot | mdni

1.4k

Yunho walks in fresh off the stage looking like sin in a suit, and one thing leads to another..

nsfw tags under

m/f, dom yunho, boyfriend!yunho, sub reader, post-performance, smut, oral sex (f!receiving), soft dominance, teasing, praise, thigh kisses, light possessiveness, intimate couch setting, body worship, cocky

The soft click of the door unlocking pulls your attention from the television. A rush of anticipation bubbles up as the handle turns, the familiar sound of Yunho’s steps filling the quiet apartment. When he steps inside, it’s as though the world outside ceases to exist.

Still dressed in his stage suit, he looks like he’s walked straight out of a dream. The fitted jacket hugs his broad shoulders, the dark fabric accentuating his tall frame. A few strands of his hair stick to his forehead, the remnants of sweat from hours of performing only adding to the allure. He pulls at the knot of his tie, loosening it slightly as his gaze finds you on the couch.

“Hey,” he greets, his deep voice soft and tinged with exhaustion, yet his smile is radiant.

Your heart flutters in response. “Yunho,” you call, grabbing the remote and pausing the music video you’ve been rewatching. The screen freezes on a shot of him staring into the camera with that smoldering gaze that makes your stomach twist. You point at the TV, your cheeks already warm. “We need to talk about this.”

His brow arches as he steps further into the room, slipping off his shoes by the door. “Talk about what?” he asks, amusement lacing his tone. The tie hangs loosely around his neck now, the top few buttons of his dress shirt undone, giving you a teasing glimpse of his collarbone.

You gesture wildly toward the screen. “This whole music video. You. The suit. The choreography. The lyrics. ‘You the one I’m tryna finish’? What the hell, Yunho?!”

He laughs, the sound rich and warm, but there’s something in the way he looks at you—a flicker of intensity that sends a shiver down your spine. “You didn’t like it?” he teases, his tone light, though his smirk suggests he knows exactly what he’s doing.

“No, I didn’t like it,” you reply, your voice rising in faux indignation. “I loved it. Too much, in fact. Now I’m sitting here rethinking every choice I’ve ever made and wondering how I’m supposed to live my life after—”

Your words falter as Yunho crosses the room, his long strides bringing him to the couch in seconds. He drops down beside you, the cushions sinking under his weight, and leans closer, one arm draping along the backrest behind you. His presence is overwhelming, his cologne still clinging faintly to his skin.

“Go on,” he says, his voice lower now, almost a murmur. “I’m listening.”

Your throat feels dry as you look at him. The way he’s watching you, his lips curled into a faint smile, his eyes half-lidded and dark with amusement—it’s too much. You try to summon your earlier indignation, but it’s hard to focus when he’s this close.

“You—” you start, your voice faltering as his hand lifts to your face, his thumb brushing lightly along your jawline.

“Me?” he prompts, tilting his head. His voice is teasing, but his touch is anything but. His fingers trail down to your chin, tilting your face toward him.

Before you can respond, his lips are on yours. The kiss is sudden, stealing the breath from your lungs. It’s not gentle—there’s a heat to it, a hunger that leaves no room for hesitation. His other hand finds your waist, pulling you closer as his tongue brushes against yours, deepening the kiss.

Your hands instinctively find the front of his shirt, clutching the fabric as you let yourself get lost in him. The world outside fades, your earlier rant forgotten as his lips move against yours, coaxing soft whimpers from your throat.

When he finally pulls back, his breathing is uneven, his forehead resting lightly against yours. His eyes search yours, a mix of desire and something deeper swirling in their depths.

“You’re the one I’m tryna finish,” he murmurs, his lips curling into a mischievous smile as his thumb brushes over your lower lip.

The words send a wave of heat crashing through you, and before you can process them, he’s moving. His hands slide down to your thighs, tugging you effortlessly into his lap as he leans back against the couch cushions. His large hands spread over your legs, his thumbs drawing slow, deliberate circles against your skin.

“You’ve been thinking about me all night, haven’t you?” he asks, his voice low and tinged with something possessive.

You want to argue, but the way his hands grip your thighs, holding you in place as he leans down to press a kiss to your neck, steals any coherent thought from your mind. “Y-Yunho—”

He chuckles softly, his breath warm against your skin. “It’s okay,” he murmurs, his lips trailing down to your collarbone. “I’ve been thinking about you too.”

His hands move with purpose, sliding under the hem of your shorts. He shifts, laying you back against the cushions as he kneels between your legs. His eyes roam over you, dark and filled with intent, as he tugs your shorts and underwear down in one smooth motion, leaving you bare beneath his gaze.

“You’re so beautiful,” he whispers, his voice soft yet filled with reverence. His hands glide up your thighs, spreading them apart as he lowers himself, his breath hot against your skin.

The first press of his lips against your inner thigh has your heart racing, and when his tongue flicks out to tease you, you can’t stop the moan that escapes your lips. Yunho hums in approval, the vibrations sending shivers through your body.

He doesn’t rush, his tongue moving in slow, deliberate strokes that leave you trembling beneath him. His lips close around your clit, and the sensation is enough to make your back arch off the couch, your fingers tangling in his hair.

“Yunho,” you gasp, your voice barely above a whisper.

He glances up at you, his eyes hooded and burning with desire. “That’s it,” he murmurs, his voice low and wrecked. “Let me hear you.”

The sound of his voice, combined with the way his tongue works against you, sends you spiraling. He alternates between teasing flicks and firm, deliberate circles, his hands gripping your hips to hold you in place as your body trembles beneath him.

Every nerve in your body feels like it’s on fire, the tension building and coiling tighter with each passing second. Yunho’s name falls from your lips in a broken chant, and when he groans against you, the vibrations push you to the edge.

You shatter, your body arching as waves of pleasure crash over you. Yunho doesn’t stop, his tongue coaxing you through your orgasm, drawing every last ounce of pleasure from you until you’re left trembling and breathless.

When he finally pulls back, his lips glistening and his breathing uneven, he presses a soft kiss to your thigh before sitting back on his heels. His hands slide up your legs, soothing the trembling muscles as his gaze meets yours.

“You’re amazing” he says, his voice filled with quiet awe.

He climbs back onto the couch, pulling you into his arms as he kisses you softly, his tongue brushing yours in a way that’s both possessive and tender. His hands cradle your face, his touch gentle despite the intensity of the moment.

“You belong to me” he murmurs against your lips, his voice filled with quiet conviction.

You bury your face in the crook of his neck, your arms wrapping around his shoulders as you let the aftershocks of your release wash over you. In his embrace, the world feels distant, as though nothing else exists but the two of you.

Yunho’s fingers trail lazily along your back, his touch soothing as he holds you close. The faint hum of the television in the background fades into nothing, replaced by the sound of his heartbeat against your ear.

“I love you” he whispers, the words so soft you almost miss them.

You tilt your head to look at him, your heart swelling at the tenderness in his expression. “I love you too” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper.

His lips curve into a smile, and he presses a kiss to your forehead, his arms tightening around you. In his arms, you feel safe, cherished, and completely his.

[mcondance]

lovely

“You say things with your mouth, cobwebs and flies come out / I hear a second voice behind your tongue somehow / Luckily, I can read your mind, flies and cobwebs unwind / They will not take you down, They will not cast you out”

Or, you’re fine. And whatever other words hide behind those four letters. Spencer sees what a piece of you wants to hide from him.

notes fluff (mcondance writes fluff??) but still MDNI, reader is neurodivergent this is for my baby girls (audhd spencer reid kissers), inspired by those lyrics from lovely by twenty øne piløts, do not listen while you read. this is what having a dual tøp-spencer reid era does to a writer. gif from pinterest. also guys please i’ve been experimenting with layouts for my works for like… months now if this layout is ugly just ignore it please please. mcondance capitalizes ?!

word count 1.1k+ (closer to 1.2k hello i am proud)

You lie still on your back in the middle of the bed as you watch Spencer close the door and set his cardigan down on the chair by the dresser. He floats through the dim room, momentarily lit up by the interludes of soft moonlight wafting through the windows. He takes his place beside the bed. Your music pauses.

“You okay?” He asks quietly.

“I’m fine.”

You’re lying. Spencer knows you’re lying; it wouldn’t take a genius to deduce that. It’s in your voice, most obviously. But it’s in the other details that only Spencer would notice, too. Not because he’s a genius, but because he’s your Spencer. 

The room is dark. Which wouldn’t be much of a problem, if you didn’t sound so bleak and tired when you spoke. You have your big headphones on, which, again, wouldn’t be so bad if you’d have pulled one back when he walked in, or even just told him that the song’s almost at the good part, and then after it hits you’ll take them off.

The room is bathed in moonlight. The moon, and your Spencer. Two shoulders for you to lean on. Three, actually, with the music you were just listening to. 

But all of the shoulders just aren’t enough to block out the bad feelings you’re having right now.

Overwhelmed. Sad. A little depressed. Whatever. 

“I don't think so, honey,” Spencer speaks softly from where he stands in a split of moonlight, hands in his pockets as he shrugs.

He glows in a silver streak. You sniffle. Fuck.

He allows silence to ensue, obviously giving you time to get your thoughts together. The bed dips to the left as he sits down beside you and props his leg up. A part of you wants to laugh at the common knowledge that if you had the will to look down you’d see an interesting sock and a Converse, but you don’t have the energy to do anything but what you’ve been doing since you let your playlist roll into its fifth run— lay down and alternate between staring out into the blackness of your room and the backs of your eyelids.

“It’s nothing,” you obfuscate. But it’s obviously not nothing.

Again, he lets his silence give you comfort instead of pushing you to talk. You take it gratefully, as it gives you the time you need to collect yourself and try to put words to what’s going on in your head and all under your skin.

You breathe in.

“I'm just… irritated.”

You breathe out.

A bit of weight lifts off of your chest at your short admission, but the elephant in the room continues to perch tall and proud on you, crushing you and leaving very little room for you to exist.

Still, Spencer is silent. The quiet puffs of his breath and the dip in the mattress are enough. Anything else would be too much, and he knows that. So he lets you lead him into the dark with you, he stays still and lets you guide him into the cavernous deep of all that you feel right now.

The fan whirs and cars pass outside the window. The stillness of the night almost laughs at the chaos ensuing in you.

Another breath, deeper this time as you gather the courage to try to express what it is you’re feeling.

“I don't know,” you blurt. “Everything's just too loud and my friends are all annoying and nothing on YouTube is interesting and I feel like I'm gonna explode and crumble all at the same time.” Those tears are bubbling up under the surface of your skin again and threatening to spill out of your eyes. 

And now that you’ve spoken and some of the tension in the air has dissipated, Spencer feels it’s appropriate for him to talk.

“It’s okay, baby. You’ve been working a lot lately without many breaks and now you’ve run out of steam, and that’s okay. It happens. You’re just burnt out.”

Horribly, his sweet words inflame a mean, hot part of you. You scoff, finding the strength to wipe a stray tear as it falls. Spencer knows you don’t mean it, that something up in your brain has just had enough and is now denying you of any feeling but solitary petrification.

Burnout. You hate that word. You wish it didn’t happen to you. You wish that you were normal and being stressed didn’t mean paralysis and staring at the ceiling like it’ll change and morph into an answer or a semblance of comfort. 

In the dark, you strain your eyes at his form. You can just barely make out the wisps of hair flying in all directions away from his face. His posture is terrible. You can tell he’s looking off to the side of you so you won’t feel overwhelmed under his eyes. Perhaps he was made for you.

The air softens, and you do too. The facade of anger slips away as quickly as it reared its ugly head. You take a shuddering breath and let your head fall towards him.

He moves closer and a beam of moonlight illuminates him as he takes you in with warmth etched onto the comfort of his face.

Something up in your brain has just had enough and is now denying you of any feeling but solitary petrification. 

Fortunately, Spencer won’t let that happen. 

How grateful you are for this man who won’t let you get the aloneness that some tired part of you craves. He’ll stick beside you and sit in silence for hours upon hours if it meant you wouldn’t feel alone. He has done that before. He’d do it again in a heartbeat.

With him smiling softly at you even in your cocoon of darkness, that sweet quirk of his lips that is ever-present when he’s looking at you, you feel a little better. Now, he can touch you. Before that thought even registers, he reaches out for your knee and rests his hand there, rubbing his thumb up and down over your skin.

It doesn’t cross the line of overstimulation, and it doesn’t feel like not enough. It’s just enough. Spencer can read you as well as the surplus of books he reads daily. There’s no push to get up, to take your headphones off or turn the light on.

Spencer wants only for you to breathe, and to know that he is here. When he hears your breathing become easy again, and he feels just a bit more of the discord you’re swathed in slip off of you, he knows you know.

His hand on your knee won’t nurse you back to your functioning form. And it’s not what he’s striving to do. 

And as you look through the darkness into his moon-bathed eyes, you know you’ll have him here with you every step of the way, by some divine power that put him in your life. And that’s okay. You won’t be okay for a while, but you have him to lean on. You’ll always have him to lean on. You feel the love he has for you radiating off of him, pushing into your skin as he caresses it slowly.

Getting out of bed sometime later sounds a little easier, now.

[xoluvx]

b.eilish ❥₊ ⊹ american town

just finishing what you started @sweetcherriexs ₊˚⊹♡

the sound of her voice washed over you, consuming your body as you closed your eyes. you could drown in her voice; listen to it on repeat. you felt it in your bones. it was engraved on your skin like a tattoo.

“go ahead, sweetheart” she whispered pointing to the sheet music. her chin rested on your shoulder. voice so delicate and comforting as your hands shook. you’d forever be immortalized in the soundtrack of her life. your voice forever engraved in the fabric of her musical journey.

nodding and gripping the paper, you started singing softly. tentative and scared. you were shaking your leg nervously. self-conscious about by the way your voice sounded. cringing when you heard yourself sing. she placed her hand on your thigh. fingers slowly taping to the melody in her head, piecing every element in her in brain while calming your nerves. you melted on her lap like butter. clenching your thighs as the familiar feeling grew between your legs. her soft breathing on your neck and her gentle touch on your thigh. you sighed leaning back subconsciously opening your legs.

billie turned to look at you, chin still resting on your shoulder. lashes curled as her eyes traced the side of your face down to your parted lips. you'd completely lost the inability to form words, the lyrics scrambled in your brain. whimpers and sighs were the extent of your vocabulary as the tips of your girlfriend’s fingers brushed over your sensitive core.

“you okay, baby?” she muttered. her arm wrapping tighter around your waist. pulling you closer to her body. she managed to move her chair forward. your body pressed against the edge of the desk as you surrendered to the heat ensuing between your legs.

your arms stretched over the surface of the desk without thinking; there was just pure desperation and greed as you swayed your hips. as your girlfriend gripped your waist and adjusted your body so you were perfectly aligned with her toned thigh. you felt her clench under your weight. lifting her hips every time you whimper and clawed at the smooth surface.

“i want to hear that pretty voice of yours,” she demanded with a tone so sweet you were guaranteed a sugar rush. soon the whimpers were turning into shaking breathing. they transformed into moans at the sound of ‘good girl’ and ‘louder’ melting off her tongue so naturally. your voice cracked as you begged her to keep going, to not stop. the sighs and whispers and urging and longing all forming a song she was eager to listen to playback later. one she was sure she'd never grow tired of.

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° hope you think of me

( rin itoshi x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — hi all! this is part of my new series! if you know me, or my account in general lol , you'd be able to pick up on some taylor swift references in the form of titles :) i do base a lot of my writing off songs! so, i decided to rework old work and...decided to start the new discography masterlist! the masterlist will be made soon, but the basics is that i paired ( almost ) every taylor song with a bllk character! i hope you enjoy the ride ;)

♡ content — rin itoshi x fem! reader, fem! reader, set in both before rin went to blue lock and when he is a pro soccer player, the past will be in italics, the present will be normal text, established relationship, rin misses reader, kinda angst?, unrequited love, pining

♡ synopsis — It all crumbled down the day Rin Itoshi got that letter from Blue Lock. Why couldn't he easily choose one...you? or his dream? In his mind, the two couldn't exist together.

The bright lights of the stadium flicker on, casting long shadows across the pitch as the crowd roars in the background. The announcer’s voice echoes in the air, but all Rin can hear is the soft whisper of your name in the back of his mind, a constant refrain.

His eyes wander across the field, distracted by the fleeting moments that remind him of you, even though he’s supposed to be focused.

It's strange how everything about this stadium feels like a reflection of you. The banner for the jewelry sponsor—that’s the one you always liked. The colors in the ad are almost the same as the ones in your old childhood bedroom, the same shade of deep blue that you said matched the ocean.

And then there’s the scent of fresh grass, the kind that always reminded him of the times you two spent lying on the grass after school, listening to music while you tried to figure out who was more stubborn—him or you?

He should've known it would end like this.

It all crumbled down the day he got that letter from Blue Lock. Why couldn't it have been easy? Why couldn't he easily choose one...you? or his dream?

In his mind, the two couldn't exist together.

"Why do you care so much, Rin?" you’d asked after his constant nagging about what you wanted to do after high school, your voice soft but strained, like you could already feel the weight of the words before they even came.

He should’ve softened, should’ve told you everything that was happening inside him, but he didn’t. Instead, he let the silence grow thick, each word building a wall between you that no apology could ever tear down.

He pushed you away with every passing second. "It’s over," he’d said. Even as his heart ached, watching your big eyes widen and fill with tears, he couldn't risk giving up.

He had to reach him.

"You wouldn’t understand. Whatever. I have bigger things to focus on than you."

Your eyes… they were full of hurt, but you didn’t say a word. You just turned away, the soft click of your shoes leaving out his bedroom door and home sounding like the final nail in the coffin of everything you had.

The crowd's cheers feel distant now, like they belong to someone else. Rin runs a hand through his hair, trying to focus, but all he can do is look around and see you everywhere.

The water bottle with the same brand you used to buy. The locker room seats that remind him of how you’d wait for him after every match, always there, your smile the only thing that made him feel like he belonged somewhere.

He remembers the things you liked—small, silly details that seemed insignificant at the time, but now, they’re all he can hold on to.

He remembers the little things. The music you loved—the way it played softly from your car every time you'd drove to the beach, how you'd hum along with the lyrics, your fingers tapping the steering wheel.

You said the songs made you feel alive, like it was a memory of something you couldn’t quite place.

He didn’t realize until now, standing here in this stadium, that he was the one who made you feel like a memory.

He stepped onto the field, shaking off the weight of the past, but even as the game starts, the images of you flood back in—your laugh, your touch, the way you’d get embarrassed when you said something too cheesy.

The way you always made him laugh without trying to.

"You really remember everything, don’t you?" you had said once, your eyes teasing.

"Everything that matters," he replied without thinking.

Now, as he steps onto the field, the memory hit him like a punch to the gut. What really mattered? Because what he remembers isn’t just your smile or the way you made everything feel like home. What he remembers is how much you gave him, how much you loved him, and how much he didn’t deserve any of it.

The game continued on, but the colors, the lights, the little reminders—they all blur together.

Rin’s vision fades, and for a moment, it’s just him, standing still in the middle of the field, surrounded by a sea of faces, none of them yours.

And yet, every second feels like it’s laced with memories of you.

hope everyone enjoyed :)

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!!

[aventurineswife]

In Quiet Moments, We Heal

Tags: @xxmagma, Dan Heng x Reader, Sunday x Reader, Comfort, Depressive Episode, Healing, Emotional Support, Quiet Care, Patient Listening, Slow Comfort.

Warnings: Mentions of depression and emotional struggles, Themes of isolation and self-reflection, Emotional vulnerability.

A/N: I'm so sorry to hear that, I hope this could help even for a little bit, remember you're not alone! 💖

It’s a quiet afternoon aboard the Astral Express, and Dan Heng notices the door to your room has remained shut for far too long. While he doesn’t make a habit of intruding on others' space, something about the stillness pulls at him. His instincts, always vigilant, sense that something isn’t quite right.

After a few more moments of hesitation, he knocks softly on the door, his voice low but steady. “Are you alright?”

When no response comes, Dan Heng steps forward, his brow furrowed in concern, though it’s not something easily read on his stoic face. He opens the door gently, careful not to disturb you too abruptly. Seeing you curled up in bed, barely moving, his concern deepens, but he doesn’t press you for answers.

Dan Heng knows that pushing someone when they’re in the midst of a depressive episode rarely helps. Instead, he takes a slow step toward your bed. “I’m here if you need anything,” he says simply, his voice calm and unyielding.

He doesn’t try to fill the silence with empty words. Instead, he stays nearby, quiet and patient. Sometimes, his presence alone is enough to offer some sense of comfort. If you want to talk, he’s there. If you need space, he respects that too, silently standing guard.

It’s not much, but Dan Heng knows the value of silence, of not forcing someone to speak when they’re not ready. When the moment feels right, he’ll speak again, perhaps softly offering a cup of tea or simply asking if there’s anything he can do for you. But for now, he stays, offering his calm presence, a steadying force in the storm.

It’s a quiet day aboard the Astral Express, but there’s an unsettling stillness that has caught Sunday’s attention. As a fellow member of the crew, he’s familiar with the ebb and flow of emotions, and something about the silence surrounding your room strikes him. He can sense the weight you carry, even if he cannot always put it into words.

With a gentle knock at your door, he enters slowly, his wings fluttering faintly as he notices your disheveled state. He doesn’t rush in; his presence is soothing, deliberate, as if he’s offering a space for you to breathe.

“You’ve been quiet,” Sunday says softly, his voice almost lyrical, a faint melancholy in his tone. He doesn’t press for explanations—he knows better. Instead, he offers you a warm smile, one that’s meant to be comforting, though his eyes reveal his own subtle sadness.

He sits down at a distance, ensuring that his presence doesn’t overwhelm you. Sunday doesn’t need to say much. He understands the weight of isolation, the weight of the mind when it turns inward. His golden halo flickers slightly, betraying his own inner turmoil as he watches you, his thoughts wandering between the desire to help and the fear of overstepping.

“If you need someone to listen,” he offers quietly, “I’m here.”

He doesn't demand anything from you—no answers, no promises. His silence is as much a balm as his words. If you speak, he listens. If you don’t, he remains close but not intrusive, giving you space, allowing you to find your way back to stability at your own pace.

The softness in his demeanor is genuine, a blend of concern and understanding. He knows that healing doesn’t happen all at once, and for now, his quiet support is all he can offer.

[chilschuck]

I NEED CHILCHUCK+LAIOS WITH A LANA DEL REY CODED READER!!!!!

Recently I've been listening to Lana del Rey's music and it's just.... Ethereal, ethereal and melancholic.

So, I would like reader to have a similar vibe, you know? She looks ethereal, the type of gorgeous that you doubt if she is real or just a hallucination, but also melancholic. Something about her just always looks a little sad and lost in thought.

She's also gentle, like a mother's embrace, she's soft spoken (bonus if she also sings and has a similar voice like Lana)

But if you had listened to Lana's music (which I think you have) she has a ton of slightly suggestive music, so maybe she's also a bit flirty and playfull.

`✦ ˑ ִֶ 𓂃⊹ anon you have no idea what you have done to me. i hadn’t listened to her music in depth but now i am HOOKED. AND THIS IDEA WAS SO FUN TO WRITE FOR???? god bless you…….. i hope hcs are okay! i went a little ham on them, lol. even put lyrics i thought fit them in a way! i hope this is what you were wanting, and thank you so much for your request!!! <3

— HEADCANONS: lana del rey coded reader.

୨୧ i’ve got my eye on you. (say yes to heaven!)

꒰ charas: ꒱ LAIOS & CHILCHUCK.

꒰ wc: ꒱ 852

꒰ rating: ꒱ sfw + fem!reader.

✦ once again, sorry if anything seems ooc. i had too much writing this and blasting her music, LOL. and a special thank you to my love jackie for reading over it for me!!! WAHH

— LAIOS: “i can see my sweet boy swaying.”

✦ The first time he lays eyes on you, he has to ask himself if he’s dreaming. Certainly he must be, with the way the world just seems to stop whenever you’re around. There’s an air of mystery there, and when your eyes flit up to meet his, he’s captivated.

✦ It’s not just your beauty that enraptured him; I like to think he saw a depth in you he hadn’t seen before. Maybe he was drawn to the way you always looked almost… wistful, longing… Sad. But there was a beauty in sadness, wasn’t there? The way you still moved about so captivatingly while seeming so far away in those eyes… It was breath-taking.

✦ Laios definitely thinks you’re the most gorgeous girl he’s ever seen. It’s haunting almost, the way your hair frames your face and the silkiness of your voice. The first time you spoke to him, he knew he would beg you to do it again. You’re soft-spoken, a voice that carries so much weight for him. Say the word, and he’s there.

✦ I don’t think anything could’ve prepared him for your playfulness. You leave little ghosting touches down his arms and back when he’s deep in thought, only fueling his speculation that you’re just his imagination. Maybe you even whisper his name, having it bleed from your lips in that way of yours that makes his skin erupt in goosebumps. Press your lips against his ear and hum his name, only to pull away with that grin on your face. Watch as he opens his mouth to say something, anything, cheeks red as he swallows. (I think teasing him would be a lot of fun, especially when he’ll just buckle.)

✦ The first time Laios hears you sing, his head seems to spin. Direct it at him, sing for him, and he might just melt. Maybe you don’t even mean for him to hear you the first time, but now it’s something he longs for.

✦ Aside from the teasing and flirting, you’re gentle. Almost painfully so, your touch too sweet for him to fathom. Look at him with those distant eyes and cup his cheeks in your palms, your sweet boy, and he instantly leans into your embrace. Pull him in, hold him close, maybe even sway just a bit as you hum. I think you’ll really make him feel like he’s dreaming, then.

— CHILCHUCK: “be my once in a lifetime.”

✦ Don’t blame him if you catch him staring. The first time he sees you, Chilchuck falters. Is it possible for someone to be this beautiful? Ethereal seemed to be an understatement, especially when your gaze met his.

✦ We know Chilchuck doesn’t like to let too much show; this man is repressed. Even so, you draw something out of him. You’re deep like an ocean, dark like its depths, strong like the tide. He doesn’t believe in love at first sight, but maybe this is as close as it gets.

✦ He feels like he could drown in you. Your voice, your eyes, your touch. You’re gentle in all the right ways, especially in the way you speak. Chilchuck has heightened senses, and you please every single one of them. When you first decided to talk to him, he couldn’t believe how soft your voice really was. Say his name and he just about can’t take it.

✦ You drive him up the wall when you tease him. You know he loves to hear you speak, and when you let that playfulness bleed into your tone, he’s smitten. Flirt with him and you might just get a red faced half-foot in the palm of your hands. Your embrace is what really makes his head spin. Pull him close to your chest with your addicting touch and he might just never let you go.

✦ Chilchuck longs for genuine affection like this, revels in it. If you give that to him, even just a taste, he comes back for more. It goes without saying that your voice when you sing has him almost gasping for air. How can someone look this gorgeous, sound this breathtaking? Pull him back to reality with you, remind him this isn’t some sort of cruel trick on his mind.

✦ Chilchuck doesn’t like to see your saddened gaze, even if it’s only there in fleeting moments. You’re melancholic, he knows that, and for some reason it just makes him want to dive deeper. Are you hiding things like he is? Maybe there’s an unsaid connection there with that shared knowledge. Chil lets himself go when he’s meeting your gaze, all that emotion he bottles up doesn’t seem to matter when he’s with you.

✦ Going back to your gentle touch, he just about crumbles under you. Imagine how tightly he’s wound, how long he’s craved some sort of connection like he has with you. Chilchuck, when he’s alone with you, lets himself get lost in thought too. But instead of painful memories and the tasks at hand, he drowns in your embrace and wonders how he ever went this long without someone like you.

[reidmarieprentiss]

I Love You, I'm Sorry

Summary: Based on this request! You write and perform a new song, Spencer hears it.

Pairing: Spencer Reid x singer!fem!reader

Category: hurt/comfort

Warnings/Includes: post break up blues, reminiscing past relationship

Word count: 2k

a/n: i hope this is what you wanted <3333

main masterlist

Backstage, your heart raced. The thump of the music and the roar of the crowd seemed to pulse through your entire body as if the whole of Madison Square Garden was vibrating with your nerves. You took a steadying breath, trying to collect yourself, but it was hard to ignore the flood of emotions clawing up from deep within. The thin straps of your dress sat delicately on your shoulders, and you smoothed your hands down the ruffled fabric, hoping that the trembling would stop.

This wasn't just any performance—it was the performance. A surprise song, one no one was expecting. One that held the raw, unfiltered truth of your heartbreak. "I Love You, I'm Sorry." You had written it when everything was still fresh, when the pain of your breakup was like a shadow that followed you everywhere. At the time, it had been too hard to even think about sharing with the world. But tonight, you were ready. 

The understage elevator began to rise, and you closed your eyes, willing the nerves to stay down, to let your voice and the song take over. The cheering above grew louder and louder, shaking the very ground beneath you. The audience didn't know what was coming, and part of you reveled in that—the sweet anticipation, the feeling of holding something so dear to yourself just a moment longer. 

When the platform locked into place, the stage lights were blinding, but they were familiar, almost comforting in their brightness. You took another breath, one more attempt to steady yourself, and pasted on a smile as you faced the crowd. The warm air filled with thousands of screams and cheers wrapped around you, the collective energy swallowing you whole.

Then, the first soft notes of "I Love You, I'm Sorry" filled the arena, a gentle melody drifting across the vast sea of faces. It was only seconds, but you could feel the change in the crowd, the gasp of realization—their screaming rising to a fever pitch, louder than anything you'd heard all night. This was something new. Unheard. Unseen. Yours.

You gripped the mic stand tighter as the lyrics began to spill from your lips, each word carrying the weight of the heartbreak and healing you'd experienced. For the first time, you weren’t just singing to them—you were sharing a piece of your soul, one you’d kept hidden until tonight. And in this moment, standing on stage with the sound of your voice echoing off the walls, you felt like you could finally let it all go, each note a step towards something new, something freeing.

This was your moment. Your truth. And as the crowd listened, every word hung in the air like a shared confession—a story that was yours but felt like it belonged to everyone who ever loved, lost, and tried to find their way back.

Two Augusts ago

I told the truth, oh, but you didn't like it, you went home

You're in your Benz, I'm by the gate

Now you go alone

Charm all the people you train for, you mean well but aim low

And I'll make it known like I'm getting paid

—

Penelope’s phone buzzed on the desk, lighting up with a notification that had her immediately squealing with excitement. Her eyes darted to the screen, and she gasped, hand flying to her mouth as she read the alert. It was from a fan account—one dedicated to her absolute favorite artist. The one she had posters of plastered all over her home office and whose songs made up nearly every one of her playlists. And they had huge news: a surprise song, performed live tonight, and someone was streaming it illegally. 

Normally, Penelope would never (lol) endorse anything illegal, but this was different. This was a once-in-a-lifetime moment she couldn’t miss. With barely a thought, she tapped on the link, the stream immediately popping up on her screen. The image quality wasn’t the best—dark and shaky as someone tried their best to hold their phone steady over a sea of swaying arms—but the audio was good enough. And Penelope’s heart pounded in her chest as she realized she didn’t know the song.

She pressed the phone closer to her ear, listening as the artist’s voice rose above the noise of the crowd. It cut through the chatter like a blade, the lyrics flowing effortlessly. 

That's just the way life goes  

I like to slam doors closed  

Trust me, I know it's always about me  

I love you, I'm sorry

“Reid!” she shrieked, almost dropping her phone in her haste as she rushed to her feet. She moved faster than she had in ages, practically leaping down the rows of desks to where Spencer was hunched over, diligently working on his reports. The bullpen was nearly empty at this late hour, with only a few agents scattered here and there, too tired to react to Penelope's sudden outburst. 

Spencer’s head jerked up at the sound of her voice, his face a mixture of surprise and confusion as she dashed toward him. “Reid!” she repeated, more insistently this time. “You have to see this!”

He blinked, looking between her and the glowing screen of her phone, a bemused expression spreading across his features. “What’s going on?” he asked, leaning back in his chair as she thrust the phone right in front of his face.

The phone's speakers crackled slightly as Penelope thrust it closer to Spencer's face, the low-quality audio doing nothing to dull the sharpness of the voice that poured from it—soft, melodic, achingly familiar. Spencer's pulse quickened as soon as he heard the voice, and his breath caught in his throat. That voice... It was you. It was your voice. And every word that spilled from your lips seemed to slice through the silence, embedding themselves into the space between his ribs like a blade.

Two summers from now  

We'll have been talking, but not all that often, we're cool now  

I'll be on a boat, you're on a plane  

Going somewhere sane  

And I'll have a drink  

Wistfully lean out my window and watch the sun set on the lake  

It might not feel real, but it's okay

'Cause that's just the way life goes  

I push my luck, it shows  

Thankful you don't send someone to kill me  

I love you, I'm sorry

Spencer's mouth went dry as the lyrics tumbled out in your voice—so familiar, like a touch he'd longed for but hadn't felt in ages. The melancholy melody hung in the air, weaving a story so heartbreakingly intimate that it felt as though you were standing right there, whispering the words directly to him. He couldn't move; his eyes were glued to the shaky video on Penelope’s phone, but his mind was far away, drowning in memories he’d tried so hard to keep at bay. 

Every note, every breath in your voice struck a chord within him. And the lyrics—the lyrics stung. Spencer could feel the thin layer of calm he'd built around himself start to crack, the words hitting too close to home, exposing emotions he'd tried so desperately to hide away. 

His fingers clenched the edge of the desk, knuckles turning white as he fought to steady himself. Did you still... love him? Despite everything? Despite the separation, the silence that had stretched between them like an unbridgeable chasm? 

I love you, I'm sorry.

"Reid?" Penelope’s voice sounded distant, her usually bubbly tone filled with concern as she took in Spencer’s reaction. "Are you okay? You look like you've seen a ghost."

You were the best but you were the worst  

As sick as it sounds, I loved you first  

I was a dick, it is what it is  

A habit to kick, the age-old curse  

I tend to laugh whenever I'm sad  

Stare at the crash, it actually works  

Making amends, this shit never ends  

I'm wrong again, wrong again

The words cut him deep. Each line seemed to hold up a mirror to your past—a past he’d tried so hard to bury, but one that never really stayed buried. Spencer could hear the regret in your voice, and it only made his own regrets bubble to the surface. His eyes stayed fixed on the screen, and he could almost see the intensity in your eyes, the way you closed them as you sang, finally letting the truth out.

He couldn't breathe. It was too much. He could feel the familiar tightening in his chest, the way his heart ached like it was being squeezed by a vice. You had always known how to say exactly what you felt, even if you didn't always share those thoughts with him when you were together. But this... this was different. Every note felt like a confession. A confession of the mistakes you made, the mistakes he made.

God, you were beautiful. You looked so beautiful that it hurt to look. It hurt to remember how it felt to hold you, how you fit perfectly in his arms, how your laugh had always been contagious, how your voice could calm every storm in his mind. He could feel a tear prickling at the corner of his eye, but he blinked it back, forcing it away. He couldn’t lose himself like this, not here, not in front of Penelope.

But he knew why she was showing him this—of course, he did. He knew Penelope adored you, both as a fan and as a friend. But more than that, he knew Penelope loved him, and seeing him carry the weight of the breakup had broken her heart just as much as it broke his. She probably thought showing him this would help, somehow. Maybe hearing your voice again would bring some sort of closure. Or maybe, Penelope just wanted him to know that you hadn’t forgotten about him either. That you still felt something.

The way life goes

Joyriding down our road

Lay on the horn to prove that it haunts me

I love you, I'm sorry

“Penelope,” Spencer's voice cracked as he tried to speak, his gaze never leaving the screen. He wanted to tell her to turn it off, to shut it down before he completely unraveled right there in the office. But he couldn’t. The sound of your voice had him rooted to the spot, and every breath felt like a struggle.

Penelope bit her lip, hesitating for a moment before she spoke. “I... I just thought you should see this, Spencer. I know you’re not, like... together anymore. And I know you never talk about it. But... this song... it’s about you. I just know it is.”

Spencer let out a shaky sigh, gripping the phone tighter as your voice filled the air around them. He couldn’t stop the memories from flooding in—the way her your smelled when you rested your head on his shoulder, the way you’d laugh at the smallest, silliest things just to make him smile, the fights, the apologies, the “I love you’s” whispered in the middle of the night.

And now, all those memories seemed to wrap themselves around the lyrics you sang—lyrics that felt like a secret letter meant just for him. He didn’t know if he was strong enough to listen to the rest of the song, but he couldn’t bring himself to look away, either.

The way life goes (you were the best but you were the worst)

(As sick as it sounds, I loved you first)

I wanna speak in code (I was a dick, it is what it is)

(A habit to kick, the age-old curse)

Hope that I don't, won't make it about me (I tend to laugh whenever I'm sad)

(Stare at the crash, it actually works)

I love you, I'm sorry

---------------------------------------------------------------------------

tag list <333 @yokaimoon @khxna @noelliece @dreamsarebig @sleepey-looney @cocobean16 @placidus @criminalmindssworld @lilu842 @greatoperawombategg @charismatic-writer @fxoxo @hearts4spensco @furrybouquettrash @kathrynlakestone @chaneladdicted @time-himself @mentallyunwellsposts @sapph1re @idefktbh17 @gilwm @reggieswriter @loumouse @spencerreidsreads @i-live-in-spite @fanfic-viewer @bootylovers44 @atheniandrinkscoffee @niktwazny303 @dead-universe @hbwrelic @kniselle @cynbx @danielle143 @katemusic @xx-spooky-little-vampire-xx @laurakirsten0502 @geepinky @mxlviaa @libraprincessfairy @fortheloveofgubler @super-nerd22 @k-illdarlings @softestqueeen @eliscannotdance @pleasantwitchgarden @alexxavicry

[cherrybean]

Logan Howlett (the Wolverine) missing you and thinking of you blurb (SMUT)

thought of this as soon as i saw the gif and as well as listening to Chappell Roans song “Picture You” 🥺💕 sorry i know it’s a WL song but it felt so perfect for this little blurb 🫶🏽

“Oh I need you around, I’m getting close now” is the lyric that loops in my head when reading this 🫣

P.S this is not cannon to the XMen films/lore on Wolverines’ healing ability 😭 so please excuse my crappy rendition of it :(

Logan turned on the shower water to the hottest setting. He was exhausted and it had been a long day trying to catch up to Magneto. He was frustrated on the mission and frustrated on the fact he hadn’t been able to see you in so long. The hot water burning his skin as he’d suck a breath through his teeth as it sent a burning and ripping sensation through his body at the open wound on his shoulder where water trickled in; the water running a light pink color as blood mixed with it and ran down the drain. He missed being in your warm embrace and waking up next to you. The way you’d care for him when he had fragments stuck in his body from Magnetos horrible ways of toying with him since his skeleton was completely bonded with metal. Logan’s frustrations slowly manifesting into arousal as he concentrated more on you. The way you’d hungrily kiss him when he’d get back home, practically begging him to take you then and there. Logan ran his hand down to his abdomen to his cock as he slowly stroked it, resting his free hand on the cold bathroom wall, hot water pouring down his face. The way you’d kiss his jaw and lick a stripe up his neck as you’d straddle his lap and tell him how badly you’d missed him throughout the time he was gone. Logan whimpered as he’d think of how soft and warm you felt when he’d enter you; just how wet you were too, basically inviting him in with every inch of his being stretching you. The way your body reacted to his touch as your moans would get caught in your throat as he’d stretch you out; your cunt not being used to him being gone for so long, even if it was mere weeks. Logan tried to stifle his moans, picturing your rosy cheeks and the hazy look in your eyes, imagining his hand that was gripping his cock in a death grip was your tight cunt and the warmth of the water washing over him was your warm skin. He prayed in that moment that the guests in the next room over couldn’t hear his pathetic moans as he could feel the familiar tightening in his abdomen nearing. Logan envisioned how perfect you looked splayed out underneath him, having to always make sure he wouldn’t crush you under his weight; the feeling of your nails running down his back and how you’d dig your nails into his triceps when you’d be near orgasm, your broken moans turning into whimpers and pleas as you’d beg Logan not to stop. The hot water now coming out lukewarm, clouding his vision as he envisioned the way you’d scrunch up your face right when you were close, your mouth going slack as you’d throw your head back reciting his name in whimpers and whines like a prayer as your gummy walls would grip his cock, practically enveloping him perfectly into your womb. With one final deep thrust into his fist, Logan’s stifled groans turned into whimpers as he slowed his pace, feeling the cold water hitting his body and catching his breath. He washed his body, shivering and turned the faucet off. Oh how he wish you were here.

[zylokv]

CIGARETTES AFTER... — park jhyo

❝ you’ve got me exactly where you want me, don’t you? ❞

synopsis — a chance collaboration with jihyo leads to more than just chart-topping hits. between late-night studio sessions, unspoken tensions, and a celebration that turns unexpectedly intimate, the lines between professional and personal begin to blur

word count ! — 2.3k

— park jihyo x reader !

genre — oneshot.

the room was dimly lit, the faint hum of the air conditioning barely masking the quiet anticipation that lingered in the air. as you stepped inside, the sharp scent of polished wood and freshly brewed coffee greeted you. jihyo stood near the grand piano, her posture relaxed yet poised, a small notebook cradled in her hands. she glanced up at you with a welcoming smile, her presence radiant without trying too hard.

"you made it," she said, her voice carrying warmth and ease, like you’d known each other for years.

you shrugged, pulling the strap of your bag off your shoulder and setting it down on a nearby chair. "couldn't exactly say no when the jihyo asked for a collaboration," you replied, your tone teasing yet sincere.

her laugh was soft, a little shy, but it carried the kind of confidence that came with knowing she deserved the compliment. "flattery works, but i’m hoping your skills do too."

you chuckled, pulling out your laptop and a pack of cigarettes from your bag. glancing at the ‘no smoking’ sign on the wall, you slipped the pack back into your pocket, but not before jihyo noticed. her lips quirked into a faint smirk.

"bad habit?" she asked, tilting her head slightly.

"occupational hazard," you replied, settling into the chair across from her. "helps me think."

jihyo nodded, setting her notebook down on the piano and taking a seat beside it. "so, you listened to the demo?"

"yeah," you said, opening your laptop and scrolling through your notes. "it’s good—great, actually. but i think we can push it further. make it... rawer."

"rawer?" she repeated, her brow furrowing slightly. "how so?"

you leaned back, studying her. "the lyrics— they’re personal, right? i can hear it in your voice. but the production? it’s too clean. too polished. if we strip it down, let your voice carry the weight, it’ll hit harder."

jihyo was quiet for a moment, her eyes locked on yours as she processed your words. then, she nodded slowly. "i see what you mean. but... being that vulnerable? it’s a little intimidating."

"it’s what makes it real," you said, your voice low and steady. "people want to feel like you’re singing to them, about them. give them that, and they’ll never forget it."

she smiled, a small, genuine curve of her lips. "you’re good at this."

"i try," you replied with a smirk. "so, let’s hear what you’ve got so far."

jihyo moved to the piano, her fingers brushing over the keys before she began to play. her voice filled the room, rich and emotive, each note carrying a weight that made you stop and really listen. she sang with a vulnerability that was rare in this industry, and for a moment, you were completely caught up in the sound.

when she finished, the room fell into a thick silence, the kind that only follows something extraordinary.

"damn," you said finally, exhaling a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. "you weren’t kidding about this being personal."

jihyo laughed softly, her cheeks tinged with a faint blush. "yeah, well... it’s kind of terrifying to put it out there."

"that’s how you know it’s good," you said, standing up and moving toward the piano. "but let’s work on the arrangement. the melody’s strong, but i think we can strip it back even more."

the two of you spent the next few hours tweaking the song, your ideas bouncing off each other in an easy rhythm. jihyo was sharp, quick to pick up on your suggestions and add her own twist. it was rare to find an artist who was not only talented but also collaborative, and you couldn’t help but admire her even more for it.

at one point, you stepped outside for a quick smoke break, needing a moment to clear your head. the night air was cool against your skin as you lit a cigarette, the flicker of the flame briefly illuminating your face. you took a slow drag, the nicotine settling your nerves, before exhaling a plume of smoke into the dark.

"thought you might’ve bailed," jihyo’s voice came from behind you.

you turned to see her standing in the doorway, her arms crossed and a playful smile on her lips. "needed a minute," you said, holding up the cigarette. "bad habit, remember?"

"so you keep saying," she replied, stepping closer. "but i have to admit, you’ve got a certain... charm about you."

"charm?" you echoed, raising an eyebrow. "coming from you, that’s saying something."

jihyo laughed, the sound soft and melodic. "don’t let it go to your head."

"too late," you said with a grin, taking another drag before stubbing out the cigarette on the wall. "ready to get back to it?"

"always," she said, her eyes meeting yours briefly before she turned and headed back inside.

as the night wore on, the atmosphere in the studio shifted. the professional boundaries blurred ever so slightly, the late hour and shared laughter creating a quiet intimacy. jihyo’s guard slipped just enough for you to catch glimpses of the woman behind the idol—the one who was just as passionate and driven as you were.

by the time you wrapped up the session, the song had transformed into something raw and powerful, a reflection of the connection you’d built over the course of the night. as jihyo gathered her things, she turned to you with a small, grateful smile.

"thanks for pushing me," she said softly. "i think this might be the best thing i’ve ever worked on."

"that makes two of us," you replied, your voice equally low. "same time tomorrow?"

she nodded, her eyes lingering on yours for a moment longer than necessary. "yeah. see you then."

as you watched her walk out of the studio, a faint smile tugging at your lips, you couldn’t shake the feeling that this was only the beginning of something much bigger—both professionally and personally.

-----

the studio became your second home over the next few weeks. every day brought a new dynamic between you and jihyo—playful teasing, heated debates over arrangements, and those rare moments of unspoken understanding when the music seemed to create itself. despite the long hours, neither of you ever seemed to tire of the process. it felt more like art than work, and with jihyo, the energy was infectious.

she was a perfectionist, often caught pacing the room or scribbling new ideas in her notebook while humming under her breath. but there was also the side of her that laughed loudly at your terrible jokes or playfully scolded you when you teased her about a missed note.

“you’re worse than the trainers,” she huffed one evening, plopping down on the couch beside you. she crossed her arms, a mock pout on her lips, but the glint in her eyes betrayed her amusement.

“you hired me for my ears, not my tact,” you shot back, leaning back with a smug grin. “besides, someone’s got to keep you on your toes.”

“oh, and you think that’s you?” she challenged, sitting up straighter, her gaze narrowing.

“i know it is,” you replied smoothly, holding her gaze. the tension lingered for a beat too long, and she looked away, laughing softly to break the moment.

“you’re impossible,” she muttered, shaking her head, but her smile remained.

-----

on the day of her solo pre-release, jihyo was a ball of energy. she flitted around the studio, double-checking mixes and fussing over the smallest details. you watched her from the corner of the room, cigarette perched between your fingers, the faint haze of smoke curling upward.

“do you ever stop with that?” she asked, pointing at the cigarette as she crossed her arms.

“do you ever stop worrying?” you countered, taking a slow drag before stubbing it out. “the track’s perfect, jihyo. you’ve done everything you can.”

she sighed, running a hand through her hair. “i know. it’s just... what if it doesn’t connect? what if i—”

“hey,” you interrupted, stepping closer until you were standing right in front of her. “it’s going to connect. because it’s real, and it’s you. trust me.”

her eyes softened, and for a moment, the confident leader she usually projected on tv was replaced by someone far more vulnerable. “thanks,” she said quietly. “i needed to hear that.”

“anytime,” you replied, your voice equally soft.

the release was a massive success. jihyo’s solo dominated the charts within hours, her name trending worldwide. the celebration was planned quickly, the members of twice insisting on a gathering at their dorm. you arrived late, your schedule delayed by another session, but the noise and energy of the party hit you the moment you walked through the door.

“finally!” nayeon exclaimed, dragging you into the living room. “we were starting to think you’d bailed.”

“never,” you replied with a grin, glancing around for jihyo. she was by the drinks table, chatting animatedly with momo and sana, a glass of wine in hand. her eyes met yours across the room, and her smile brightened in a way that made your chest tighten.

“you’ve got competition,” nayeon teased, following your gaze. “jihyo’s been talking about you non-stop.”

“noted,” you said, smirking as you made your way toward her.

jihyo greeted you with a raised glass, her cheeks flushed from the alcohol and excitement. “look who decided to show up!” she said, her tone teasing but warm.

“had to make an entrance,” you replied, handing her the small gift you’d picked up on your way. “for the star of the night.”

she opened it eagerly, revealing a personalized notebook with her name embossed on the cover. “you didn’t have to,” she said, her smile softening as she ran her fingers over the cover.

“i wanted to,” you replied simply.

-----

the celebration had been a roaring success, laughter echoing through the walls of the private venue. twice’s voices carried energy and excitement, jihyo at the heart of it all, glowing with pride from her successful solo debut. you had stayed by her side most of the night, quietly content with seeing her bask in the recognition she deserved.

but as the party wound down, you both found yourselves stepping out onto the balcony, the cool night air a stark contrast to the warmth of the room you’d left behind. jihyo leaned against the railing, her smile softening as she stared out over the twinkling cityscape.

“needed some air?” you asked, your voice low.

“yeah,” she said, turning her head to you. “it’s a lot... in a good way. but still, a lot.”

you pulled out a cigarette from your jacket pocket and lit it, taking a long drag before offering it to her. her eyes flicked to it, hesitating.

“does it help? is that your only guilty pleasure? what else?” she teased, but there was a curiosity in her tone.

“smoking,” you sarcastically replied, taking a drag. “but you already know.”

“besides that,” she said, rolling her eyes but smiling. “something... less self-destructive.”

“you,” the word slipped out before you could stop it, and you saw her freeze for a moment, her cheeks turning a deeper shade of pink.

“you’re drunk,” she said, but her voice was softer, her eyes not meeting yours.

“not enough to lie,” you replied, stepping closer until there was barely any space between you. “jihyo, you’re... incredible. on stage, in the studio, here... it’s kind of hard not to notice.”

she looked up at you, her expression unreadable. “you’re bold when you drink,” she said finally, a small smile tugging at her lips.

“maybe,” you admitted. “but that doesn’t mean i don’t mean it.”

“jihyo,” you started, but the way she turned to face you fully stopped you mid-sentence. the soft glow of the city lights outlined her features, her expression open but unreadable.

“what?” she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

you didn’t answer with words. instead, you leaned in, testing the waters with a touch—a hand brushing her waist, your lips ghosting over hers. her breath hitched, and for a split second, you thought she might pull away. but then she leaned in, her hands finding their way to the lapels of your jacket, pulling you closer.

the cigarette fell from your fingers, forgotten as her kiss deepened, her lips soft but urgent against yours. the taste of smoke lingered between you, mingling with the sweetness of her.

the balcony’s quiet became your cocoon, shielding you from the world beyond. her fingers tangled in your hair, your hands gripping her waist, the kiss growing hungrier with every passing moment.

when you finally pulled apart, her chest rose and fell rapidly, her lips slightly swollen. she laughed softly, the sound laced with disbelief and something deeper.

“you’re... something else,” she murmured, shaking her head.

“is that a good thing?” you asked, your voice rougher now.

she didn’t answer, instead pulling you back in for another kiss, her smile pressing against yours.

-----

the air between you two was electric, charged with anticipation. every time your eyes met, a spark seemed to jump between you, igniting something deeper. she was close now, just a breath away, her lips hovering, tempting, as if asking you to bridge the gap.

“you’re killing me with that look,” she murmured, voice low and almost teasing, her hand resting on your chest, fingers tracing the outline of your shirt. it was the smallest of touches, but it sent a wave of heat through you.

you smirked, leaning in slightly, your lips brushing against hers in a soft, slow kiss. the heat of it spread like wildfire, burning through any distance that remained between you. her hands found their way to your neck, pulling you deeper, a subtle command. you responded, matching the urgency in her movements, your hand sliding down her back, feeling the warmth of her skin through the fabric.

the kiss grew hungrier, more intense. each brush of her lips against yours was like a spark, setting off a chain reaction. you both leaned into it, letting the kiss deepen, your lips pressing harder as your bodies drew closer. there was no space left between you, just the undeniable pull that seemed to guide every movement, every touch.

your breath quickened, your hand finding the small of her back, pressing her even closer, your heart racing as the air between you thickened with the promise of more. she gasped against your lips as your fingers trailed down, grazing the curve of her waist, feeling the heat radiating off her skin. her touch was soft but insistent, hands slipping beneath your shirt, fingers tracing the contours of your chest.

“you sure know how to make a girl lose control,” she whispered between kisses, her breath warm against your skin.

you chuckled, the sound low and full of meaning. “maybe I’m just getting started,” you teased, your voice rough with desire.

her hands slid up to your shoulders, pulling you toward her, closing the distance even further. her lips parted for a moment, as if she was about to say something, but instead, she kissed you again, more deeply this time, her tongue teasing at your lips. you responded immediately, your hand finding its way to her hair, pulling her closer, fingers tangling in the strands as you lost yourself in the kiss.

the room seemed to disappear around you, leaving only the two of you, wrapped in the heat of the moment. everything about this felt right—the closeness, the shared desire, the unspoken connection that had been building for so long.

you slowly broke the kiss, pulling back just enough to look into her eyes, your foreheads resting together as you both breathed heavily. the silence between you was comfortable, full of promise. she smiled, a slow, seductive curve of her lips.

“you’ve got me exactly where you want me, don’t you?” she murmured, her fingers trailing along your jawline.

you grinned, your thumb brushing over her bottom lip. “you have no idea,” you whispered back, your voice thick with anticipation.

-----

later, when the night had melted into the early hours of the morning, you found yourselves tangled together in your room, the aftermath of passion leaving you both breathless. the intimacy lingered as you reached for another cigarette, lighting it with a shaky hand.

jihyo propped herself up on one elbow, watching you. “you really are full of surprises,” she said, her tone teasing but warm.

you exhaled a plume of smoke, offering the cigarette to her once more. this time, she didn’t hesitate. she took it, her lips brushing against your fingers, the act feeling far more intimate than it should have.

the two of you shared the quiet moment, the cigarette passing back and forth as the first light of dawn began to creep through the curtains. neither of you spoke, the silence filled with an understanding that didn’t need words.

when the cigarette burned down to its final ember, she leaned over, pressing a soft kiss to your temple. “don’t ever stop surprising me,” she whispered.

“so... this changes things,” she said, her voice raspy.

“only if you want it to,” you replied, brushing a strand of hair from her face.

“i think i do,” she said, leaning in for another kiss.

and with that, the night faded, leaving behind the memory of smoke, laughter, and the beginning of something neither of you could quite name yet. ----

a/n — just jihyo smoking... lol i wrote this last night having been inspired while out with friends.

[bvidzsoo]

Love Me Like A Rockstar (11)

ー☆ Chapter 11: Alkaline

Author: bvidzsoo

Pairing: Song Mingi x female reader

ー☆ Warning: none, just a load of fluff hehet ー☆ Word count: 9k ー☆ Genre: university!au, enemies to lovers!au, rockstar!au ー☆ Rating: sfw ー☆ Summary: Love. You wanted none of it. You had already been heartbroken very badly once, you didn't wish to go through that ever again. But the Universe works in intricate ways and, somehow, you found yourself webbed up in a local rockstar's life, Song Mingi. He was everything you expected him to be, yet nothing like you imagined him he would be. What happens when you find mutual understanding and have heartful conversations? Will he be able to break down your walls? Will you be able to chase away his darkness?

A/N: Aaand the new chapter is here! Hi lovelies, as promised, no more waiting a month for updates. I am so excited to hear what you thought of this chapter as OMG was I dying writing it LOL. I didn't think it would turn out to be my favorite, but here we are...there's a lot of realizations happening in this chapter ahaha. I hope you enjoy it and please listen to Alkaline before or while reading this story, however for once, I think it would be smart to listen to it before as...this is a little insight...but the lyrics reflect Mingi's thoughts so well, so keep that in mind too!^^ I hope you enjoy and lmk what you've thought of chapter 11! <3

Taglist: @orshii @or5i @lovely-red2 @scarfac3 @juicy-red @sunaswifes-blog @voicesinmyhead-rc @teez-the-time @maru-matt @kyeos4ng @deathbyyeekies @chicksmoothie @mjlbn01 @xhexy @tmtxtf @hwashiningstar @thatfavouritesong @ateez-atiny380 @xciiiomwliah @vixensss @catchingskzzzs @tesssaurrr @ginger-mingi

⟨Series M.list ↭ Previous Chapter⟩

♫Playlist♫

            Staring up at the unknown building as the Honda’s engine got cut off, I couldn’t help but feel disappointed. I pouted as I craned my neck to look up through the window at the not too tall structure, wondering where in the hell we were. I heard Mingi unbuckle his seatbelt and then snort, making me look over at him.

“You look like your parents forgot it’s Christmas and didn’t buy you a present.” He noted, making my pout deepen as that sort of has happened when I was a lot younger compared to now.

“I only have a mom…” Mingi’s face fell for a second as I sighed, crossing my arms in front of my chest, “Where are we?”

“Uh,” Mingi gulped, cheeks tinged red as he averted his eyes, “my place.”

A beat of silence passed as my eyebrows furrowed. I unbuckled my seatbelt and threw another glare at Mingi, “But I said I didn’t want to go home.”

“Exactly,” Suddenly, he was beaming as he faced me again, “and so, I didn’t take you to your home! It’s my home.”

Well, he’s got the spirit but his logic was faulty. I pursed my lips, suddenly curious of what his place looked like, the alcohol having dissipated from my body, preventing me from being a whiney child that was inconveniencing Mingi, not that he seemed too irked by my previous behavior at the pub.

“What about your parents?”

“What about them?” Mingi chuckled, opening his side of the door, “I live on my own, come on.”

I huffed and opened my door as well, feeling a small blush spread onto my cheeks. Was I seriously about to go inside Mingi’s apartment in the middle of the night? And why did I not find the idea alarming or repulsive? There must be something very wrong with me if I willingly follow him up to his apartment without creating even the smallest fuss, “Will you just stand there all night?”

I narrowed my eyes at Mingi and crossed my arms as I closed his Honda’s door, finally letting him lock his car as he chuckled, “I wanted to do something fun.”

“Well, doll, most places are already closed in our little town.” He said with a shrug, placing an arm against the side of the car, leaning his weight on it, “But I guess we could hang out at a convenience store like raunchy teenagers or something—”

“No, that’s outdated!” I cut him off, eyebrows furrowing at the stupid idea. I was well past the age of hanging out in front of convenience stores and causing trouble. Mingi sighed, pushing off the car as he walked around it, approaching me with a gentle expression on his face. I gulped and fixed my posture, pushing my hair behind my shoulders as I suddenly felt nervous due to our proximity. What has gotten into me? The memory of his lips pressing against the corner of my mouth was rather fresh in my mind, and I had to avert my eyes as I wasn’t used to Mingi’s platinum blonde hair yet; it made my stomach coil in a weird way.

“If you’re uncomfortable coming inside my apartment, you can say so, Y/N. I thought we are always direct with each other.” Well, he’s not wrong about that. We are direct with each other, transparent even, as long as it’s not about our feelings. I cursed myself for the direction my thoughts started straying towards and instead looked at him, feeling a little shy, and smiled.

“No, it’s good, we can go.” Mingi didn’t seem too convinced so I sighed and slowly reached out for his hand, “I want to, Mingi.”

“Great!” I have barely finished my sentence as his face lit up with happiness, thick fingers lacing with mine as he pulled me towards the entrance of the building. I chuckled as I followed after him blindly, amused by how easy it was to please this guy. He seemed to get enthusiastic about the smallest things, most frequently when things went his way. I tried to ignore the persistent flush of my cheeks as Mingi led us inside the building by our interlaced fingers and guided us towards the stairs, fishing his keys out of his jean’s pocket. We didn’t say much as we tried to be quiet, and that unfortunately allowed my mind to wander towards thoughts it shouldn’t have. Like Mingi’s tall built and how ravishing he looked in tonight’s outfit for the performance. Or the rawness of his voice whenever he closed his eyes and sung from deep within his soul. The way his nose scrunched whenever he got lost in the music as he stayed on beat while relaying the lyrics. Or the fact that his hair had gotten longer and instead of cutting it, he decided to dye it a platinum blonde which made his features sharper than I thought they were. It made my throat dry as I remembered what his body close by felt like, his warmth, the familiar cologne, the way his eyes crinkled, and crooked front teeth showed whenever he smiled too wide.

I grimaced as I slammed into Mingi’s back, instantly flushing even more as he looked over his shoulder with a chuckle. We have arrived in front of a white door with the numbers 18 on it, and so lost in my thoughts, I failed to notice that Mingi had stopped as he was trying to unlock the door. As if lightning zapped me, I released his hand and cleared my throat, running my fingers through my hair. Was it a smart idea coming here if I couldn’t even control my own thoughts?

“Welcome to my little lair.” Mingi’s voice held amusement as he pushed the door open and stepped aside, letting me enter first. I thanked him quietly and gulped as I mustered up any final courage that I needed to not run back down the stairs and hail a cab, and entered his apartment. It was dark, but only for a second as Mingi’s hand reached for the light switch, and then the door was closed behind us, locked and secured, making my heart race as we were now on our own, in the confines of his safe haven, “Don’t mind the mess, I didn’t expect visitors tonight.”

He seemed a little embarrassed as he stepped out of his boots, rubbing the back of his head as I followed his lead and untied my own boots, glad to have them off my feet—they were rather heavy. He leaned down to fetch us flip flops, and I smiled as he pushed one towards me before he wore his. The flip flops were a tad bit bigger than my own feet, but it wasn’t difficult to walk around in them. Mingi seemed to fiddle with his fingers for a second before he walked towards his sofa, grabbing the blanket off it to fold it nicely and place it back on it neatly. The living room space and kitchen were one big room. The walls were white and the floorboards light, the window open as the white curtains were pulled aside to let in the chilly air of the night. A TV on a stand was placed underneath the window, a huge plant in the left corner of the room, and an electric piano in the right corner, the wall above it lined with shelves and a ton amount of books and mangas that I had no idea how Mingi managed to store there—the place was rather small and stuffed. I didn’t allow my eyes to linger on the framed pictures, but it was hard to mistake the familiar photo of Yunho and Mingi hugging when I’ve seen it so many times before. Then, not too far from the TV, a coffee table and a sofa were placed facing it, and Mingi scrambled around to gather a few empty soda cans off the coffee table, shooting me an apologetic smile as he rushed to the kitchen’s side, throwing them away into the trashcan. His kitchen was small but cozy, the cupboards a dark wooden color, looking rather nice. The table was round and spacious, Mingi’s laptop and notebooks strewn across it, as well as some forgotten croissant that looked a bit too old to eat. I noticed the wall to my right was decorated with framed records and snippets of lyrics from probably his favorite artists, and I smiled as I noticed a quote that I knew too well, ‘Art is a line around your thoughts’.

“I had no idea you knew Gustav Klimt?” I muttered bewildered, walking towards the piece of paper that was plastered onto the white wall. Mingi made a surprised noise, and I felt his eyes on me as I traced the words with my fingertips.

“He’s my favorite painter.” Mingi answered with a chuckle, making my eyes widen as I faced him. How come he’s never mentioned that before? I didn’t even think for one second he enjoyed fine art like I did.

“Really?” I sounded a little breathless as Mingi smiled warmly, shrugging off his jacket, which had me forgetting all about Gustav Klimt as my eyes fell on his bare biceps. Fuck, I can’t be checking him out again. He’s just a man and he’s got arms like everyone else, and it’s not like I haven’t seen muscles before. Why must I act like a Victorian man when he sees ankles?! This was rather embarrassing, and much to my dread, I knew Mingi saw me checking him out again as an amused smirk sneaked onto his lips, one eyebrow raised.

“Really.” He answered, voice a few octaves deeper and I crossed my arms in front of my chest, giving him a challenging look. If he was so confident in himself, shouldn’t he call me out for salivating after him all night? Make me more embarrassed or something, “I’m kind of fed up with these clothes, would you like to change into something more comfortable?”

I hummed and nodded, shrugging off my own leather jacket, not oblivious to the way Mingi’s eyes widened slightly, the flush on his cheeks instant. I tried to stifle a giggle as I tied my hair in a low bun, giving him a soft smile, “Do you mind if I also shower? I’ve danced around all night long…”

“Sure, no problem!” Mingi’s voice was higher pitched and it sounded panicked for a second as he scrambled inside another room, which upon flooded with light proved to be his bedroom. I caught myself grinning widely and then instantly frowned, trying to calm my nervous heartbeat as I watched Mingi throw open a huge closet and rummage through it. The prospect of having to wear his clothes dawned on me just now, and I felt like sticking my head out the window for the cool air to calm my flushed cheeks. I feel like I’ve been blushing ever since I stepped out of his car, and that was embarrassing. These emotions and thoughts were very unlike me, the last time I remember being like this was when…I had that stupid crush on Yunho. A lump seemed to form in my throat at the sudden thought of Yunho, skin crawling now that I realized I was standing in his best friend’s apartment, very probably about to have a sleepover with him. But Mingi and I were friends, there was nothing weird about hanging out at one’s place and spending the night over too. If it would have been weird or inappropriate, Mingi wouldn’t have brought me over. It was weird to realize just now that I completely trusted him and felt safe around him, not having to wonder whether his motives were genuine or not.

Mingi suddenly appeared in the doorway of his room clearing his throat as he glanced down at the clothes in his hands, “I, uh, I hope these will fit you.”

“Thank you.” I smiled as I walked over, feeling my heart go crazy as it started beating even faster, making me so embarrassed I wanted to hide away for an eternity. Mingi avoided eye contact, which was good because I couldn’t handle it at the moment, as he handed me over the clothes and then led me towards a closed door, turning on the light for me.

“There’s clean towels in the cupboard and some make-up remover too.” When I gave Mingi a questioning gaze, completely forgetting that he liked to wear eye makeup, he quickly scrambled to explain himself, “Oh, you know…sometimes Seonghwa sleeps over and he’s always wearing make-up so he left it here for me, since…I also wear some at times…”

“Right.” I chuckled, feeling silly for having Mingi explain such insignificant thing, but unfortunately, my thoughts had strayed to different scenarios, and I was a little irritated for feeling reassured upon hearing his explanation, “I won’t take long, promise.”

Mingi hummed and I quickly hurried inside the bathroom, shutting the door behind myself hastily as I leaned against it and released a long breath I didn’t realized I had been holding. God, it was becoming more and more difficult to behave like a normal being. There was no reason for my heart to race like this, nor was there any reason to be nervous around Mingi. I was merely spending the night, and it was going to be fun, since we’re friends.

            True to my word, I quickly cleaned up, rather pleased upon seeing so many skincare products in Mingi’s cupboard; it’s always nice when a man takes care of himself and cleans up well. The fact that I had to shower with the body wash Mingi uses, and afterwards wear his clothes that had the familiar scent of the softener he uses was…challenging to digest, but because I didn’t want to spiral into a full-blown panic attack, I decided to ignore it, and analyze it another time—when I was preferably alone and not in Mingi’s bathroom. The grey sweatpants he had given me were, obviously, way too big, but he was thoughtful enough to give me one that had strings and I could tie them securely around my hips, the white t-shirt, as expected again, loose around my body, making me look smaller than I was. I have never felt small before in men’s clothing, and it was contrasting with how I have always looked when wearing Yunho’s clothes.

After having walked out of the bathroom, before I could say much, Mingi stormed past me inside the bathroom too, muttering something about not taking long either and that I could drink some water and snack on the chips he had placed on the coffee table. Deciding to wait for him in the living room, on the sofa, I texted my mother that I would be back in the morning as I decided to sleep over at a friend’s house, purposefully leaving out Mingi’s name as I knew she’d go crazy with her questions. I could only hope she wouldn’t text Seulgi, who knew where I actually was.

Mingi, done in under ten minutes, had a towel around his head—much like when he had showered at my place—and I watched from the sofa with big eyes as he opened the bathroom’s door, humming absentmindedly as he struggled to wear his flip flops. I gulped, unable to stop my eyes from raking over his body as he started towel drying his hair, still oblivious to my insistent staring. He wore khaki-colored sweatpants and a loose grey t-shirts, its sleeves reaching just above his elbows and the end past his waistline. His black tinged nails were rather contrasting against the white towel he had finally lowered from his head, and he jumped when he saw me looking, as if he had forgotten that I was here.

“Hi.” I muttered with a giggle, completely ignoring the fact that I was blushing again. Mingi froze for a second before he grinned widely, shaking the platinum hair out of his eyes. It was still damp as it fell flatly against his head, the ends poking out in different directions at his nape.

“Let’s go to bed?” Mingi suggested, sounding rather unsure as I hummed and stood up, wearing my flip flops as he placed the towel on the back of a chair and then switched off the lights, leading the way to his bedroom as I shuffled after him, heartbeat once again starting to pick up its rhythm. I placed my hands behind my back and fidgeted with my fingers, hoping Mingi wouldn’t pick up on my nervousness as he switched on the bedside lamp, clearing his throat as he turned to face me. For some reason, he couldn’t hold eye contact, and so, I took advantage of that and quickly checked out his room. It was simple, much like the rest of the apartment, with its walls white and floorboards light in color, a black fluffy rug placed under his double-sized bed, which was right across from the door. There was a black closet to the left, with a beanbag pressed to the corner and three guitars lined up against the wall. To the right, however, as you entered his room, was a large desk with equipment that he probably used for recording his songs, notebooks laying open with a half-eaten burger in a plate next to them. A few more pictures were hung up on the wall, but I quickly averted my eyes out of fear of spotting Yunho again.

“Uh, so…” Mingi rubbed the back of his head, looking down at the bed before he sneaked a glance at me, “I could sleep in the living room if you don’t want to share a bed with me.”

“Yeah, that’s cool with me.” I said in a serious tone, watching as Mingi paused for a second, looking surprised that I was about to make him sleep on the sofa. But to my surprise, he said nothing else as he went to pick up his pillow, making me chuckle, “I’m just fucking with you, Mings, you don’t have to sleep on the sofa, it looks uncomfortable for a tall person either way. It’s not my first time sleeping next to a guy, you know…”

Mingi chuckled, trying to hide his face as he turned around, his cheeks slightly flushed, “Ah, right, I forgot you had a dickhead boyfriend that made you hate men—”

“That’s not completely true.” I cut him off, crossing my arms in front of my chest defensively, “I mean, he was a dickhead, but it’s not just his fault, you know.”

It felt weird bashing Yunho all of a sudden, especially since Mingi was unknowingly talking about his best friend. I didn’t want him to say something that he’d regret if he ever were to find out my ex is his best friend, it just didn’t feel right.

“You really think all men are like that, huh?” Mingi raised an eyebrow as he pulled the covers back and plopped down on his bed, bouncing on the mattress as he stared at me expectantly. I gulped and shuffled closer, feeling nervous again as his eyes were glued to my form, perhaps lingering a bit too much on the t-shirt and sweatpants I was wearing. I slowly sat on his bed, struggling to breath regularly as Mingi’s familiar scent was even stronger now, vanilla mixed with something flowery, the softener he used, no doubt. If anyone would’ve told me two months ago that I’d be sharing a bed with Mingi, in his apartment, I would’ve laughed in their face and suggested a visit to the psychic ward. But right now, it was as real as it could get, and I subtly had to pinch my arm to make sure I wasn’t dreaming, or hallucinating in a drunken stupor. But I wasn’t drunk anymore, hadn’t been for a while now, and the shower too made sure to sober me up completely. My alcohol tolerance was pretty good, and the key for me to remain drunk was continuously drinking, once I stopped, an hour tops and I was all sobered up no matter how much I had drunk previously.

“Most are.” I muttered as I shimmied my bare feet underneath the cold covers, hiding them underneath as they always got cold rather quickly. Mingi chuckled as he adjusted himself as well, pulling up the covers to our waists as he turned his head to look over at me. Silence settled over us and I chewed on my bottom lip, watching from the corner of my eyes as his eyes bore into the side of my face as he bit the inside of his cheek. He seemed to be mulling over something as he raised his left hand and rubbed at his chin, pressing his fingers against his lip. Overwhelmed with the memory of his lips pressing so close to mine, I flopped backwards and prayed for the covers of his bed to swallow me up and hand me over to the monster underneath his bed. But that, obviously, didn’t happen as Mingi gulped rather loudly, laying down too on his side as he first adjusted the covers, pulling it up to our chests.

“Well, I suppose we’re both tired.” He whispered and I hummed, trying to calm the frantic beating of my heart as the room was suddenly coated into darkness as Mingi switched the lamp off. I released a long breath as quietly as I could as Mingi lay on his back, mirroring my position, as we stared up at his dark ceiling. He raised his hands and intertwined them as he let them rest over his chest, and I raised one arm and placed it over my head as I started twirling a strand of my hair. I couldn’t lay still and I feared Mingi could hear the annoying way my heart was racing, making me feel too warm under the thick covers. His scent was too strong like this, and as I turned my head to the right, facing away from Mingi, I was alarmed to find the pillow smelling strongly of the guy laying next to me in bed. Mingi sighed, although I suppose he meant to do it silently as he stuttered mid-breath and paused, making me chew on my bottom lip as I tried not to laugh. Everything about this was so awkward, it made my skin crawl as I couldn’t take it anymore.

“You know,” I spoke up, voice shaky for some reason, and I felt Mingi’s head turn as he looked at me despite the darkness of the room, “I never asked why your band name is Noir Zenith.”

“Yeah, you didn’t,” Mingi chuckled, making me raise my eyebrows as I turned my head to look at him, “you were too busy shitting on me to care about something so insignificant.”

“I—that’s not—” I groaned and Mingi snickered as I closed my eyes, pressing the heel of my palm into them, “Okay, you’re right. And that was rather assholey of me, so—now I’m genuinely interested.”

“Wow,” Mingi breathed, grinning from ear to ear as I opened my eyes, finding his beaming with something I couldn’t exactly understand, “you actually admitted to being an asshole to me?!”

“I’m not saying it again, so savour it while you can, pretty boy—” Massive fuck. The silence that settled upon us again was mortifying and I turned my head away, contemplating about rolling out of his bed and walking myself over to the sofa to sleep on for the night. I couldn’t face Mingi, and maybe it was better as his tone was laced with smugness and excitement.

“Pretty boy, huh?” He snickered, and I groaned loudly for him to hear, “First you admit I’m hot, then that I’m somewhat attractive, and now that I’m a pretty boy?! I feel like I’m living every man’s dream over here—”

“I think I have asked you a question, Song Mingi.” I snapped as I turned to lay on my side to face him, eyes narrowed at a smirking Mingi, only making him look smugger than he was before, “Don’t change the subject.”

“It’s a little hard when a gorgeous girl calls me pretty boy—” I groaned loudly, pressing my hands against my ears as Mingi started cackling, kicking his legs as if he was a little boy. My eyebrows furrowed as I gave him an incredulous look, making him giggle as he suddenly turned onto his side too, coming face to face with me. I gasped quietly, our faces just a little bit too close for comfort, but Mingi quickly shuffled slightly backwards, making me release a quiet breath as my heart was racing for the nth time at this point tonight.

“Fine, fine, I’ll stop.” Mingi grinned as his left hand settled between us, laying palm down against the mattress. I could only hope he didn’t notice my eyes linger on his painted nails as his fingers were ring free for the first time since we’ve known each other, “As you might have realized, I’m the founder of the band, and despite Seonghwa, Wooyoung and I being a team, I knew what I wanted my band’s name to be before I even met them.”

I hummed as I listened closely to Mingi, resting my hands underneath my head, completely ignoring the fact that the pinkie of my right hand was lightly brushing against Mingi’s forefinger, “Noir means black in French, right? And thus, I associate it with darkness and pain, yearning for something you no longer have, loneliness, and fear. Zenith, meanwhile, means the highest point reached in the heavens by a celestial body or simply a culminating point. In the context of our band’s name, however, I use it as the highest point of when you feel hurt, when the darkness gets to you, the point where it feels like there’s no return anymore, that nothing and nobody can help you anymore. The first song I ever wrote—you know it, you’ve heard it—is the lowest I’ve ever been. Ever since then, after experimenting enough, I have realized I am inspired most at my highest—or maybe some would say lowest—points, no matter what I’m feeling. I write best when I’m feeling the most…is basically what I’m trying to say. I hope I’m making sense; this is the first time besides my friends that someone’s asked what the name means…”

I took a deep breath and slowly released it, feeling an immense warmth spread through my chest, close to the feeling of adoration and admiration. I gulped, pondering whether I should do what my body desired to do, and in the end, the intrusive thoughts won over as I slowly sneaked my palm over the back of Mingi’s hand, holding onto it gently, “It makes sense, I know what you’re saying.”

I kept my eyes on our hands as I felt warm all over, too shy to suddenly look at Mingi as he lowly hummed, flipping his hand around to interlace our fingers, “When my emotions get too overwhelming, I grab my sketchbook, or a canvas, and start painting. It doesn’t matter what I’m feeling, the point is to empty my mind and let through whatever it is I’m experiencing. My goal, mostly, is to numb my mind and silence my thoughts.”

“Do you often feel overwhelmed?” Mingi’s voice was quiet, shaky a bit and my eyes snapped up, taking in his face as he was biting his lower lip, eyebrows furrowed. He looked troubled, but somehow serene at the same time, like he was thinking of something he couldn’t make sense of yet.

“Yes.” I chuckled and shrugged, absentmindedly rubbing circles against his knuckle, “My mind is a mess at all times, Mings, it takes a lot to silence it. Especially when I’m dealing with emotions that I don’t know how to navigate. I’m afraid of feeling too much because I fear it will consume me, turn me headless, and make me fall deeper into that feeling, blinding me to the faults of the other person.”

“You’re afraid to fall in love.” Mingi whispered and I gulped, never having said it out loud before, but also never having had anyone else point it out. Not even Seulgi, who knew me like the back of her hand. I nodded, our gazes meeting as Mingi had an understanding look in his eyes, as if he knew the feeling.

“I hate to admit it, but I’m afraid of many things.” I muttered, lightening the atmosphere as Mingi chuckled, giving a squeeze to my hand as I hid my face in the pillow, giggling quietly.

“I knew you were just trying to impress people with your fearless bravado.” Mingi teased, narrowing his eyes playfully as I scoffed.

“But I am fearless, it seems like you don’t know me too well.” I raised my eyebrows at Mingi as he gasped, feigning hurt, “Impressing others is the last thing on my mind.”

“Perhaps,” Mingi hummed, suddenly turning serious and making my cheeks heat up with the intense way he was looking at me, “but you certainly know how to leave an impression on someone.”

I paused, mouth opening to say something, but I found myself speechless. Instead, I felt myself blush harder, and I was thankful for the darkness as I knew Mingi couldn’t see the degree of my deep blush despite being close to my face, “Also, you’ve started calling me Mings. I actually love that nickname; Yunho sometimes calls me that.”

Yunho. Something coiled deep in my heart again as the lump was back in my throat and I hummed, gently untangling our hands as I turned back onto my back, running my fingers through my hair. Mingi didn’t move, eyes boring into the side of my face with a confused look in his eyes. I tried not to withdraw myself, but it was hard when I was reminded that the two were best friends, “The little dirt you always have on your cheekbone when you perform—”

“It’s my signature!” Mingi groaned loudly, flopping back onto his back like a child as he kicked with his legs again. I chuckled and bit my lower lip, suddenly realizing that teasing him was rather hilarious.

“It says ‘Fix on’, why?” I giggled as I interlaced my hands behind my nape, resting my head on them.

“Ah, so you have seen it?” Mingi paused for dramatic effect and I nodded, curious to hear his answer, “Well, it’s a lot sillier than the name of our band. I suppose it’s something I wish for others to do, to focus on me when I’m up on the stage, to fixate on me, you know?”

“Sounds like something you’d want, yes.” I muttered, and felt Mingi painlessly kick at my ankle under the convers, making me laugh, “What? You love attention, Mingi, and you can’t even deny it.”

“Well, fine.” Mingi huffed and I glanced at him from the corner of my eyes to see him pouting, “Is that so bad?!”

“Of course not,” I chuckled, turning my head as I fought the glare of my face as my thoughts wandered back to the chick that’s been all over him all night long, “except when you can’t set clear boundaries with your baboons, you know?”

A laugh bubbled past Mingi’s lips, shaking him as my eyebrows furrowed, not finding what I said funny at all, “I still can’t believe you call our fangirls baboons.”

“It’s what they are.” I muttered under my breath with a grimace, turning my head as Mingi suddenly turned his to face me.

“Well, they are nice and they’ve actually helped us become more well-known,” Mingi explained, sounding rather grateful, making me feel bad that I couldn’t stand them, “So, I’m grateful to them.”

“Especially to the blonde one that always clings to you—” I realized my slip up when it was already too late as I felt Mingi press up onto his elbow, leaning a bit over my body as I refused to look at him.

“Doll, besides knowing her name and what she looks like, I have no idea who she is.” He said, eyebrows furrowed as his eyes bore into mine, “And I have no intentions of getting to know her past that level. Like you said, boundaries exist, and I’ve made mine clear with her.”

“That’s why she dies at the sight of you, and is all over you whenever she can.” I huffed and Mingi sighed, reaching out with his left hand as he adjusted my hair, making me freeze.

“I don’t like her.” Hearing him say that made my heart skip a beat, and I averted my eyes, feeling rather pleased to hear him say that, “She’s not the type of girl I’m into.”

I wanted to know what type of girls he was into, but before I could let my tongue slip up again, I nodded wordlessly and searched for a clock. It was on his desk, facing us, and my eyes slightly widened when I realized it was close to 3am, “Let’s go to sleep.”

“Sure.” Mingi whispered, smiling slightly as he settled back in the bed, staring up at the ceiling as I slithered my arms underneath the covers, closing my eyes. It was silent in the room once again, not awkward at all anymore, yet it felt like there was room to say more. I wanted to say more, but I was afraid I would say something that I wasn’t ready yet to voice. What would Yunho think if he knew I was with his best friend? Worst of all, what will Mingi say if he finds out I’m Yunho’s ex? I was scared of both answers, and until I was completely ready to face the consequences of my own actions, I would stall and enjoy my limited time with Mingi. My gut feeling told me it wouldn’t last for too long, the good and happy, it never did. The thoughts weighted heavy on my mind and I released a long sigh at the same time as Mingi, making the ends of my mouth curve up. Seems like I wasn’t the only one plagued with late night thoughts, unable to go to sleep just yet. Deciding that it wouldn’t work with my head so full and my skin still buzzing from being this close to Mingi, in his clothes, in his bed, surrounded by his familiar scent, I sat up abruptly.

“I can’t sleep.”

“Me neither.” I had barely finished my sentence as Mingi’s eyes flew open, looking at me with a borderline desperate expression, “Kitchen raid?”

“Kitchen raid.” I nodded and showed him a thumbs up as we hurriedly got out of bed, apparently making it a race of who would reach the kitchen first as Mingi failed to wear his flip flops, rushing after me as I yanked his door open with a giggle, and toppled outside as he tried to yank me back by the t-shirt I was wearing. Knocking into my side—but gently—Mingi passed me and cackled mockingly as he reached the round table first, giving me a smug look.

“Did you think you could race me in my own apartment and win?” For a second, I saw Yunho in him as he stood grinning as if this victory meant anything. Yunho was insanely competitive, making everything a game while we were together, often times exhausting me with them; they weren’t my favourite activity. Suddenly, the room was flooded with light as Mingi switched it on.

“What do you have, pretty boy?” I decided to speak up and ignore his teasing, pushing thoughts of Yunho to the back of my mind as a thoughtful look crossed Mingi’s face.

“Well, if you’re hungry we can whip up some eggs or like make a sandwich?” He rubbed the back of his head, not looking too confident, “Or, uh, maybe we could drink something?”

“As long as it’s not alcohol, sure, I’m not hungry either way.” I said as I walked further inside the kitchen, making Mingi’s eyebrows furrow as he turned and walked towards the sink, opening the cupboard above it. He rummaged around and I decided to sit on the counter, swinging my legs as I placed my hands underneath my thighs.

“I have hot chocolate!” Mingi exclaimed in triumph, and I chuckled as he turned around with a grin, holding two plastic bags containing chocolate powder.

“I’d like one serving then, kind sir.” I bowed my head mockingly, making Mingi’s eyebrows raise.

“You’re rather generous with nicknames tonight, Y/N.” He gave me a teasing look as I rolled my eyes, “Is it just the alcohol talking, perhaps?”

“I’m not drunk, Mingi.” I chuckled, watching him move around the kitchen, grabbing mugs and pouring water into them to heat up, “I have a high tolerance.”

“But you were drunk when you were dancing with that guy.” Mingi muttered, grimacing as I narrowed my eyes at him.

“I was tipsy, and I quite enjoyed dancing with Chan before you decided to bother us.” I pursed my lips, giving him a pointed look as he stole a glance at me while placing the mugs in the microwave to heat the water up.

“I don’t have whipping cream.” He said as he leaned against the counter, crossing his arms in front of his chest as the microwave hummed quietly. I couldn’t help but smile as he remembered how I liked serving my hot chocolate.

“It’s fine, I think it would be too sweet right now.” I said as Mingi nodded, his gaze becoming intense again as he watched me sit on his counter. I cleared my throat and looked away, pulling my hands from underneath my thighs to cross them over my body in a comforting manner.

“Well, when guys usually dance with you, they want something more too, you know?” Mingi’s voice had dropped a few octaves, and I looked over with narrowed eyes as the microwave dinged.

“Then do you want something more from me too?” I fired back, giving him a displeased look, “You danced with me too, not just Chan.”

Mingi froze as he had just opened the microwave’s little door, eyebrows furrowing as he shot me an unimpressed glance, “What I wanted was for you to be safe and not taken advantage of, Y/N.”

I gulped, suddenly feeling guilty as Mingi looked slightly hurt by my assumption as he took the mugs from the microwave, and closed the little door a little harsher. I couldn’t help but remember the near kiss, and wonder if he hadn’t done it because he thought I was drunk. I bit my bottom lip as I sighed, watching Mingi’s back as he poured the powder into the warm water.

“I—I didn’t mean to assume anything like that, I’m sorry.” I spoke up, licking my lips as Mingi still hadn’t faced me despite reaching for a teaspoon to stir our drinks, “I know you wouldn’t take advantage of me and were only looking out for me, but Chan was just happy to meet someone that was his senior and shared his major.”

Mingi turned as he grabbed the mugs and then approached me, “I guess we have both overreacted tonight, then.”

“Yes.” I chuckled and took the mug he handed me, “Thank you.”

We took a sip of our hot chocolates in unison, humming at the sweet taste bloomed on our tastebuds, giving each other a pleased nod as I took one more sip, blowing on it slightly as it was too warm, “Since we’re already speaking about it, what did you think of our performance?”

I lowered the mug from my lips and watched as Mingi took another sip, a rather large one, not afraid of burning his tongue, “I think you were really good, all three of you. Like I have once said before, the three of you work well together, your voices blending in a way I haven’t heard before. It’s really beautiful, actually, you capture your audience since the very first note you play.”

Mingi hid the huge smile stretching onto his lips behind his mug, averting his eyes shyly, “What did you think of the lyrics? I’ve written the song around two years ago.”

It was my time to look away shyly, my quick heartbeat not foreign anymore at this point, “They were—poetic, almost. I find your lyrics deep and—genuine, like anyone could relate to it, and I think that’s not something you achieve easily. But I mean, what do I know, I’m just a fine arts major.”

Mingi chuckled as he took another sip of his hot chocolate, and then placed the mug on the counter, resting his left hand close to my knee as he leaned his hip against the edge of the surface. I took a small sip as I tried to stop my eyes from checking him out again, but it seemed rather hard as this was the first time I’ve seen Mingi in casual clothing, looking comfortable, and rather soft. It was weird, but somehow, he looked really good, and I felt myself flush at my own thoughts, averting my eyes as Mingi raised an eyebrow questioningly, “I appreciate all feedback, music major or not, after all, you are also part of my audience. And what matters to me most, is how my audience perceives my music and lyrics, if the message I want them to hear goes through.”

“Don’t fret over it so much, Mings.” I chuckled, holding the mug with both hands as I lowered it into my lap, “The crowd loves you, and it was pretty packed down there tonight. You’ll make it big one day, have more faith in yourself.”

Mingi bit his bottom lip, his hand lightly brushing against my knee, “Hongjoong is a very influential person in our world, he’s even composed music before, so sometimes he stops by to help. He’s working on signing us up with a record deal, actually.”

“What?!” I exclaimed excitedly, eyes widening as Mingi fought a grin off his lips by licking them, “That is amazing, Mingi!”

“Yeah, I finally feel like I’m headed somewhere with my life.” He whispered abashed, looking down at the floor as I smiled widely, feeling happy for him. It was nice to see him so happy and excited for what was to come, coming to the sudden realization that I hated seeing Mingi hurt and mad—especially if he felt like that because of me. I didn’t want him hurting because of me, that’s not what friends do.

“I think you looked very hot tonight.” And once again, I blurted out something I didn’t mean to. Mingi’s head snapped up as he looked at me, eyes widening just a little as his eyebrows slightly twitched, he looked like a puppy somehow, it was almost alarming, “I mean, uh, your costume—it was really edgy. You know, giving rockstar vibes and whatnot.”

Mingi hummed, looking down as I took a large sip of the hot chocolate, licking my lips and averting my eyes as Mingi looked back up at me with a thoughtful look on his face. His eyebrows had slightly furrowed now, bottom lip between his teeth, and I couldn’t help but let my eyes linger on the soft looking skin. My heart had started racing for some unknown reason again as I looked back up into his eyes, gulping upon seeing Mingi’s sharp eyes become more intense, more determined that they were a second ago. My fingers tightened around the mug as I cleared my throat, waiting to see what Mingi would do next. He licked his lips and his eyes fell a little lower on my face before he slightly stepped closer, his hand pressing into my knee now, “I really want to kiss you right now, Y/N.”

I froze, feeling my muscles stiffen as he voiced his desire, my heart racing beyond the point of return, making me feel warm despite wearing a t-shirt—his t-shirt. I gulped and bit my lower lip, eyes searching his face for any signs of amusement or joke, but he was dead serious. And I was dead serious too as I pushed away all doubts and prejudices, voice breathy as our gazes bore into each other’s, “Then kiss me.”

The mug barely touched the surface of the counter when Mingi’s large palms cupped my cheeks, his eyes switching between my right and left one as I gulped, tilting my head back just a little bit. I felt nervous but excited at the same time, and my lips parted as Mingi’s lips pulled into the tiniest smile, before he finally closed the distance between our faces. His lips were warm, and soft—plush as they were slightly plumper than mine, pressing against mine gently, softly as if he didn’t want to scare me away. I appreciated his gesture big time, hearing my own heartbeats in my ears as I grabbed the sides of his t-shirt, needing to anchor myself in something. Mingi seemed to grow more confident as I pressed my lips back against his, more determined and less soft as he had been at first, his lower lip slotting between mine perfectly as I latched onto it, sucking it between my lips, making Mingi exhale through his nose, his grip on my cheeks turning firmer. My own hands released his t-shirt in order to travel up his back, gently tracing his firm muscles through his t-shirt, so that my arms could settle around his shoulders. Mingi’s right hand pressed into my lower back as I allowed him to guide me lower on the counter, welcoming him between my legs as our bodies pressed flushed together, our warmth mingling with each other as Mingi’s scent was the only thing I could smell on me and around us.

His lips tasted like mint, mingled with hot chocolate as they lazily moved against mine, taking his time to savor the kiss instead of turning it rushed and messy as I had expected him to kiss. Not that I wondered often what Mingi kissed like, but that didn’t matter anymore as this was the real deal. My skin tingled anywhere he touched, and I was grateful that I was sitting on the counter as my knees would’ve gone weak when he held the side of my neck, thumb stroking my chin every time our lips moved, covering my skin in goosebumps. I leaned up as much as I could, allowing Mingi to tilt my head back more by the hand he had on my neck, my fingers tangling into the soft platinum strands brushing against his nape. A sigh left his lips at the motion, and I nipped at his bottom lip as I felt my body awaken with a fire I have never felt before. Nobody’s kissed me like this before, so gently yet passionately at the same time, just wanting to feel everything and savour the moment for as long as possible. My hands trembled as I chased after his lips when he dared pull back even the slightest bit, capturing his bottom lip between my teeth as I bit down it, but not to the point it was hurtful, feeling painted fingernails dig into my lower back through the fabric.

Mingi’s nose nuzzled against mine as he pressed an open-mouthed kiss against my lips, making my heart swell and almost explode out of my chest as I pulled him even more into myself, to the point it was turning painful. I was sure he could feel my heartbeat against his own chest as it was frantic and making me struggle to intake any air, but that was also Mingi’s doing as he was stealing away every breath I tried to inhale. My knees locked him into place as I squeezed them against his hips, prompting Mingi’s lips to press harder against mine, more insistently. It felt like every single emotion that we tried to suppress and hide, suddenly came to the surface, speaking volumes as our lips struggled to find an even rhythm again, growing hotter and a little more rushed, desire blossoming in both of our chests. My lungs had started begging for air, but I couldn’t bring myself to pull back, to pull away from Mingi, my body welcoming him in like no one before, my mind silent for the first time when I was around someone. There were no questions or doubts running through my mind, just the endorphins that came from kissing the man I have started to adore. Finding it hard to breathe too, Mingi pulled back just barely, his lips pressing more kisses against mine as our chests heaved, trying to inhale in air, our breaths meddling as we breathed in each other’s oxygen. I felt warm all over, jittery and giddy, as Mingi’s forehead pressed against mine, making me exhale shakily as our lips brushed against each other’s just barely. He was breathing through his lips hard, both hands cupping my cheeks again as he gently rubbed his thumbs against my flushed skin.

I tried to find peace again and calm my erratic heartbeats, my eyelashes fluttering open as my gaze ran over Mingi’s elated expression, bottom lip between his teeth before he was breathing through his lips again. I admired the beauty of his perfectly shaped face, naturally sun-kissed, scars from his acne faded, some new ones redder. His tall nose looked sharper from up-close and the tip slightly turned more to the side, his cheeks flushed probably as much as mine. His mole underneath his eye was more visible now that he didn’t have any makeup on, and before I could talk down myself, I leaned my chin up and pressed a soft kiss against his beauty mark, Mingi’s breath catching in his throat. I smiled and cupped his cheeks too, his eyes fluttering open as I couldn’t help but grin widely at him. Mingi’s brown eyes were warm and shone with a glimmer that wasn’t there before, slightly teary, but before I could get worried over it, he chuckled as he pressed another chaste kiss against my lips. I smiled widely and nuzzled our noses together, feeling joy flood my body like never before.

“I don’t know about you,” Mingi whispered, voice deeper and raspier, “but I am actually sleepy now.”

I chuckled and released Mingi’s face, feeling a little disappointed when he did the same to me, “Actually, me too.”

And it wasn’t a lie, I could feel the lack of sleep finally catch up to me as Mingi’s hands rubbed at my knees for a second before he pulled back, grabbing our unfinished hot chocolates as he walked towards the sink. I hopped off the counter as he quickly washed them, drying his hands in his sweatpants as he turned to face me. I knew my cheeks were still flushed, and I feared it wouldn’t go away for a while now as my lips tingled from Mingi’s kisses, body yearning for his warmth and comforting scent. All I wanted was to curl up against his chest and hug him until he became fed up with it, wanting to feel his lips against my skin as he whispered sweet nothing into my hair, into my ears. Alarmed by my own sudden desires, I marched towards the bedroom, Mingi following after me as he flipped the light switch.

My actions were hurried as I swiftly climbed into bed, pulling the covers up to my chin as I lay on my side, my back to Mingi as he settled in beside me, a lot calmer than me. I gulped, feeling the silence stretch on, not awkward but too silent, almost as if we should have said something. I pondered whether I should speak up and bring up the kiss, question what it meant for us, but Mingi suddenly started giggling, it becoming muffled as if he had pressed his hands against his mouth.

“What’s so funny?” I found myself asking, feeling the corners of my mouth tug up as Mingi’s deep giggles continued.

“I—” He paused, sucking in a deep breath as he made me silently laugh, “I fell on the stage, tonight. But it was dark, so nobody saw but Seonghwa.”

I couldn’t help but laugh loudly as I pressed my face into the pillow that smelled completely like Mingi, “You’re an idiot, you could’ve gotten hurt.”

“No, I could’ve completely fell on Seonghwa’s drums and ruined the performance!” His words made the both of cackle like mad people, chests shaking with laughter, and tummies hurt by the time we managed to calm down. Mingi became quiet as I chuckled one last time, mouth hurting from how widely I was smiling. Mingi took a deep breath and released it slowly, probably finally settling down, determined to sleep, “Good night.”

“Good night.” My voice was quiet and small, and I gnawed on my lower lip as I braced myself for what I was about to do. Mustering up the last pieces of my courage, I suddenly turned and raised up onto my elbows, Mingi’s eyes flying open in fright as he didn’t expect my sudden movement. I leaned over him as he was laying on his back, and pressed a swift kiss against his lips, his eyes wide as I pulled back before he could turn it into more. I quickly rolled over and pulled the covers over my head, squeezing my eyes shut as all I wanted to do was scream and kick my legs, my heart hammering like crazy against my ribcage, cheeks on fire. I felt Mingi move around too, the quietest cough, and then the soles of his feet pressing against mine, making me fight against all demons in my body to lay still and will my heart to stop beating so God damn fast.

『Not acid nor alkaline

Caught between black and white

Not quite either day or night

She's perfectly misaligned

I'm caught up in her design

And how it connects to mine

I see in a different light

The objects of my desire』

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Stranger Than Fiction

Part 28: Games

Billy Hargrove x Reader (Slowburn)

Part 1,... (Masterlist)...Part 28, Part 29 (Coming Soon)...

AN: lol I'm back on my bullshit. Word Count: 3,874 Warnings: allusions to abuse

It’s a short ride. Neither of you speak, allowing the music to fill the space between you. It’s comfortable. You listen to each song as the cassette plays through the specific mix curated by its maker. Max had shown you a few of these ‘mixtapes' Billy had made the day you waited with her. You don’t fully understand how he’s able to get each song to seamlessly blend into the next despite the variation in artists and rhythms. 

Then a song comes on that grabs your attention. It’s the same loud tune, a guitar continuously strumming along with the beat of drums and bass. The thing that stands out to you are the lyrics. 

“People think I’m insane,  because I’m frowning all the time…  I need someone to show me the things in life that I can’t find I can’t see the things that make true happiness,  I must be blind.”

“Who sings this?” You ask, glancing sidelong at Billy. 

“Black Sabbath.” He tells you, keeping his eyes ahead. “It’s one of their older songs but it still holds up.” He explains pulling to a stop in front of his house. When he moves to cut the engine your hand reflexively grabs his wrist, stopping him. 

“Wait. I want to hear the rest.” You tell him, using your other hand to turn up the volume.   Billy doesn’t fight you, watching you in silence as you listen to the rest of the song. 

“Make a joke and I will sigh And you will laugh and I will cry Happiness I cannot feel And love to me is so unreal… I tell you to enjoy life I wish I could, but it’s too late”

Your heart gives an uncomfortable squeeze for a beat as the song ends. There is a tense moment before the next song begins where you notice Billy's pulse under your fingertips. You don’t know why you're squeezing Billy’s wrist so tightly. You slowly uncurl your fingers, sitting back in your seat. The lyrics bounce around in your mind as you sit there. Billy finally cuts the engine, ending the music as well. 

“You okay?” Billy finally asks, lifting a brow. You nod.

“Yea, it’s just weird. How something can sound so loud and angry but under it all it’s actually really sad.” You explain. “Like a cry for help.” Billy’s lips quirk up slightly.

“Maybe that’s what they were going for?” He says. “Music is just another way to tell a story. I’m surprised you’re not more into it.” He tells you, moving to exit the car. “If you thought that was good I’ll have to show you some Bon Jovi.” He goes on as you follow him out of the car and up the steps towards the house. “I’m assuming you have no idea who that is.” Billy says with a smirk. 

“Yea yea, save it. Max already thinks I’ve been living under a rock for the past 17 years.” You reply with an eye roll. Billy huffs a laugh. 

“That little shit wouldn’t know dick about music if it weren’t for me.” He says, pulling out his keys. His words are harsh but there is no heat to them. 

“Well this is a first.” You quip as he unlocks and opens the front door, stepping to the side to let you enter first. “A whole different experience than coming in though the window.” You joke, stepping into the house. 

“We can always go around back if you’d feel more comfortable.” He jokes back, following you in. You take a moment to really look around as Billy closes and bolts the door behind you. You’ve never been in this part of the house, only glimpsing at it through windows. It’s not a large space and it’s clear that 4 people occupy the small domicile. Bits and pieces of everyones lives are scattered around. 

“I think I’m good.” You reply. You notice that there is a clear clash in interior design through the house. The free weights contrast with the decorative rug under them. Beer cans stacked next to decorative shell decor on the mantle. Someone had tried to make this house a home, but there was something off. It felt like two personalities were struggling to mesh into a comfortable middle, it was unstable, chaotic. 

Billy moves around you to lead you deeper into the house but before you can move any further Max’s voice calls from her room. 

“Billy, I need to go to the arcade! Where did you-oh.” She stops short seeing you in the living room. For some reason it feels like you’ve been caught doing something you shouldn’t, a pit of anxiety taking root in your stomach. 

“Hey Max.” You greet, giving her a half wave. She just watches you skeptically. Her narrowed eyes dart between you and Billy. 

“What’s your malfunction?” Billy snaps after the silence lasts a moment longer than is comfortable. 

“Are you two dating?” Max asks bluntly. 

“What?!” Both you and Billy ask in unison. You share a confused glance before turning back to Max. Your face heats exponentially. 

“Mind your own business you little shit.” Billy bites at the same time you try to explain. 

“He’s tutoring me in history.” A smirk, eerily similar to Billy’s, spreads across Max’s face. 

“Is that what they call it these days?” She asks, crossing her arms and leaning against the wall, a taunting lift in her brow. 

“If you want a ride, I would shut the hell up.” Billy says sternly, narrowing his eyes at the redhead. 

“Jeez, learn how to take a joke.” Max huffs with an exaggerated roll of her eyes. She ducks back into her room, leaving you and Billy in the living room. Billy just shakes his head, clenching his jaw as he heads for his room. 

“I swear if her attitude gets any worse Neil is going to lose his shit.” He mumbles, pushing his hair back from his forehead. “Be ready in 20 minutes!” He yells after her. The only confirmation that she heard him comes in the form of a dramatic groan. 

“That’s how all kids are at that age. I was so argumentative my mom and I didn’t have a pleasant interaction for weeks at a time, and don’t get me started on Hopper. I’m pretty sure I took years off his life with my attitude.” You chuckle fondly at the memory of your painful growing years. 

“Sometimes being a kid isn’t a good enough excuse.” Billy replies calmly. Your stomach twists uncomfortably remembering how Neil had looked at his own son that night not so long ago. 

“Neil and Susan are in Indianapolis Christmas shopping, so I’m playing chauffeur for the day.” Billy explains, entering his room and heading straight for the bed, flopping down on it. 

“I don’t mind helping watch her.” You offer without much thought. You hover in the doorway, suddenly nervous about being in his room alone with him. It’s not like you had never been in his room alone before, you spent many nights sitting across from him on the bed pouring over history lessons, keeping your voices low to not wake anyone else in the house. But something about being here in the daylight, not sneaking around, it makes your stomach swirl. You glance around, his room looks the same as it always does. Bed half made, cigarette butts stamped out in the ashtray next to the cassettes on the nightstand. You do notice that there is now a small dent in the wall next to the mirror, but you can’t be sure that it wasn’t always there.

“Neil would kick my ass if he knew I pawned my responsibility off on you.” Billy explains, propping himself up on his elbow to see you. You absentmindedly skim your fingers over the outside of the doorframe.

“It’s not ‘pawning’ them off on me. We would do it together.” You reason with him. Your fingers catch on something cold and metal on the outside of the doorframe. Leaning back to glance at what you’re touching you see the latch of a lock. Glancing at the outer side of the door you see the other half of the latch. Something cold prickles down your spine.

This isn’t just a teenager wanting privacy, the way this latch is set up, it would function to lock the door from the outside. Why would anyone need that? Your mind struggles to make sense of it. 

“He wouldn’t see it that way.” He tells you flatly. 

“Then don’t tell him.” You say simply, stepping fully into the room. “I’ll help you out today and I’ll be gone by the time they get home. “ you explain, sitting gently on the edge of the bed next to his legs. “Just like when we painted the porch.” You remind him. You watch something dance behind his eyes at the memory from this summer that feels like a hundred years ago. “Consider it part of my tutoring payment. I know the food isn’t a fair trade.” You insist. When he finally nods, giving in, you have to smile. 

“Fine. But only because the idea of dealing with a prepubescent she-devil by myself makes me want to stick needles in my brain… and leaving her alone is not an option.” He tells you, sitting up next to you. His thigh presses against yours, and the proximity sends sparks over your nerves. 

Remembering the promise you made yourself before leaving home you try to scoot away to put some distance between your bodies. Billy notices the movement immediately. 

“Oh sorry, am I making you nervous?” He asks, leaning in even closer, one of his arms going behind your back. He’s not touching you, but he’s close enough that you can feel him if you lean back even slightly. You struggle to hold his gaze.

“No.” You say simply, not trusting your voice to say more without shaking. 

“You sure?” He asks, lifting a brow. You feel him lean in even closer, you swear you can feel the heat coming off of him. You force yourself to hold his gaze and remain still, fighting the urge to pull away. Like a game of personal space chicken.

“I’m fine.” You practically whisper, your voice sounding too loud with how close he is. When he chuckles you can feel the warmth of his breath against your cheek. His eyes shift between yours. You can see the flecks of green in his sky blue iris. Your breath mingles with his and you smell his last cigarette mixed with spearmint gum. You swallow thickly, gritting your teeth together in defiance. 

“You can tell me if you’re not.” Billy insists, his voice just as soft. He’s flirting but you can hear the seriousness laced in his tone. He’s making sure you know he’ll stop, if you ask. Something about that knowledge eases the panic in you. Shifting slightly you tilt your chin up, watching him the way he always looks at you.

“I’m okay.” You say more confidently. You see his adams apple bob as he swallows, his eyes seeming to darken. His gaze flickers to your parted lips so quickly you think you imagined it. Your mouth suddenly goes dry, your stomach flipping at the memory of what his lips felt like against you-

“Right, that’s what ‘not dating’ looks like.” Max’s voice calls loudly from the doorway. You feel like a bucket of ice water has just been poured over your head as you pull away from Billy. Embarrassment floods through you as Billy leaps from the bed lunging towards the door. 

“Fuck off!” He yells, slamming the door closed. 

“I still need a ride!” Max yells from outside the door, pounding on it for emphasis. Billy’s shoulders are tense as he stands with his back to you, his arms braced against the door. You see him take a deep breath, then another, bowing his head as he lowers his arms, slightly adjusting the waistband of his jeans. 

“You sure you want in on this shit show?” He asks, turning to lean back against the door. Max pounds on the door again, shaking its frame. You manage a dry laugh, trying to shove all the mortifying shame you feel into the back of your mind. 

“Oh this is nothing. Try telling Mike Wheeler a campaign needs to end early. Kid turns into a gremlin.” You tell him, pushing yourself off the bed. Billy lifts a brow. 

“I’m more surprised that you know what a gremlin is.” He admits teasingly. You roll your eyes. 

“I do have a life outside of this room you know.” You tell him. You won’t admit that the only reason you know the plot of gremlins is because Steve insisted on catching you up on all the big hits you had missed while you were in the hospital, not that you had actually seen it in theaters. 

Billy watches you approach with a healthy dose of skepticism. 

“Come on Hargrove, put on a brave face. I hear they can smell fear.” You joke, clapping a hand on his shoulder. 

“I’m going to be late!” Max yells, pounding harder. 

“Be my guest Loca, I always knew you had a death wish.” Billy says with a smirk. Your heart pounds at the memory of your first meeting. It feels like a million years ago, like you were an entirely different person, and looking at Billy’s confident smirk, the teasing glint in his eyes, you wonder if he’s a different person now too. 

Without another word, Billy whips open the door to reveal a very agitated Max.

“Finally!” She exclaims, turning on her heel striding towards the front door, her bag already slung over her shoulder. Billy shoots you a look over his shoulder before following after her. 

“Hey, Max?” You call, slipping in front of Billy to catch up to her. She only glances at you, still heading for the door. “Do you mind if I tag along to the arcade?” You ask. Your words cause her to halt, turning to face you with the full force of her scrutinizing glare. You feel Billy come to a stop behind you, her eyes dart to him before returning to you. 

“Did he ask you to babysit me?” She asks indignantly. 

“No!” You say, throwing your hands up. “I just thought you could teach me some stuff. I’m not very good and I hear you kick the boys' butts on a regular basis.” You explain, hoping it comes off as genuine. She studies you for another beat, seeming to weigh the pros and cons of allowing you to come with her. Finally, she shrugs. 

“Fine. But don’t try to talk to me while I’m playing. It throws me off.” She instructs, turning for the door. When her back is turned you quickly give Billy an enthusiastic thumbs up, earning another eye roll. 

The three of you climb into the car, Billy turning the volume up to his usual bone shaking level as he whips out of his spot, speeding down the road. It’s a short ride into town, especially with how Billy drives. When he comes to a stop outside the arcade you climb out, pulling the seat forward to allow Max out. 

“I’ll meet you in there.” you tell her. Needing no explanation, Max jogs to the doors slipping into the dimly lit building. You can see the boys' bikes already lined up outside. “You coming?” you ask Billy, leaning back into the car. 

“Hell no. I can babysit just fine from here. You couldn’t pay me to go into that dork pit.” He scoffs. You roll your eyes at his stubbornness. 

“Oh come on, tough guy. Where is your sense of adventure and whimsy.” you ask, only receiving an unimpressed look in return. 

“Whimsy?” He asks, his lip curling at the word. 

“I’ll buy you a coke.” you offer, hoping that bribery will soften his resolve. Billy’s lips press into a firm line, you can see his jaw tick as he grinds his teeth. 

“Fine.” he says after a moment. “But I have to run an errand real quick.” He tells you. Thinking this is some kind of trick to get out of coming in, you narrow your eyes. 

“You promise to come in when you get back?” you ask, extending your pinky to him. He lifts a brow, a dry laugh escaping him.

“What are you 12?” He asks. When you don’t show any signs of joking he heaves a sigh, linking his pinky with yours. “Fine, yes. I promise I’ll come back and watch you be terrible at dig dug, dork.” He promises with a teasing smirk. 

“Good.” you smile, letting his pinky go and stepping back. “And I’m not that bad.” you clarify, closing the door and allowing him to pull away from the curb. 

It turns out that you ARE that bad. 

Max allows you to take the first turn, even offering you pointers, but by the end of your third turn she takes over explaining that she can’t stand watching you throw away quarters like that. You’re a sorry excuse for a gamer, your brain having trouble communicating quickly enough with your hands on the controls. It’s alright though, you have more fun watching Max and the boys take turns trying to beat each other's scores. 

The longer you observe the group of adolescents the more you note the change in dynamic among them. Max and Lucus are openly interested in each other but don’t seem to know how to navigate this new realm of relationship. Mike appears distracted, constantly glancing at his watch. You assume he’s anxious to see El. You know that Hopper has started allowing the two to hang out at the cabin and though you’ve pushed for El to have more social time, Hopper's old habits die hard. His paranoia is persistent. You can’t say that you don’t understand where he’s coming from. 

Dustin and Will seem more irritated than anything with the new shift in priorities within the group. 

After roughly 30 minutes of watching Max wipe the floor with the boys scores, you venture to the opposite side of the arcade. You want to give the group space but also stay close enough to keep an eye on them. You scan the games, searching for one that you can play without too much instruction. Ms. Pac-Man seems to be simple enough, and it’s located in a spot that allows you to watch your group bounce from game to game. 

Inserting your first quarter you begin the game. You’re able to keep up at first, but when the ghosts start to speed up you can't seem to evade them quick enough. After your 4th quarter your pride is stinging. 

“Fuck…” you curse to yourself as once again you are cornered by the little red ghost. Before you can insert another quarter, you feel someone approaching from your left, coming too close to just be passing by, tensing your hand itches to lash out but you stop yourself when you realize who it is.

“Hey.” Keiths’ monotone voice greets you. You know him from school, and to your knowledge the two of you had never actually spoken to each other. 

“Hi Keith.” you reply politely. You aren’t sure why he’s approaching you. You know that he works here so possibly you were doing something wrong. “What’s up?” you ask. Kieth seems to swallow past something in his struggle to speak. 

“I see you around sometimes.” he tells you, unable to meet your eyes. You don’t know what to say to that.

“Yea, I babysit so I come in to keep an eye on my kids sometimes.” you tell him. 

“That’s cool.” he mumbles “You know I could help you with some of the games if you want. Are you alone today?” He asks. You know he doesn't mean for it to sound as creepy as it does but you can’t help your slight cringe. 

“No, I’m actually with-” you move to gesture towards Max but are cut off when Billy appears next to you, casually draping an arm over your shoulders. 

“Me.” He finishes for you, keeping his eyes on Keith who looks like a deer caught in headlights. 

“O-oh, cool.” Keith manages to mumble, taking a step back. “Nevermind then” he manages to get out, obviously resisting the urge to turn and run. Understandable with the way Billy is glaring daggers at him.

“I’ll see you around.” you offer Keith a kind smile. He only nods sheepishly before retreating further into the arcade. Sighing, you swat at Billy’s side, causing him to drop his arm from your shoulder with a chuckle.

“What was that for?” he asks, doing his best to look genuinely confused. You see right through it to the self satisfaction he's really feeling. 

“Did you have to mad dog him? He was just saying ‘Hi’.” you tell him. Billy scoffs, moving to lean against the game. 

“Yea, right.” He says, sarcasm dripping from every word. “You didn’t see how he’s been eyeing you, trying to work up the courage to come ‘say hi’.” he tells you, throwing air quotes around your words. 

“And how long were you watching that?” You ask, crossing your arms over your chest. Billy shakes his head, his curls falling across his forehead.

“You’re missing the point.” He tells you, deflecting the question. 

“What point is that?” You ask, shaking your head as you dig a quarter out of your pocket and lean over to place it into the game. When you straighten up Billy has taken a step into your space. You could take a step back to give yourself some room, but you don't. You stand your ground, tilting your head up to meet his stare head on. 

“The point is that you’re playing a game you don’t know the rules of and guys like that-” he jerks his chin in the direction Keith had run off. “Will take advantage of that.” he tells you, his voice low. You know he’s too close. That you should take a step back. That the way he’s looking down at you is too personal. That either one of you could close the distance between you with a breath. 

“I’m not really good at games.” you admit, feeling the heat rushing to your face. Still you can’t seem to look away. Billy’s sharp gaze seems to soften slightly at your admission. 

“I know…” He says softly, his eyes shifting between yours. “I just watched you die 4 times and not even make it past the first level of Pac-man.” He says, his teasing smirk overtaking all the gentleness that had once been in his eyes. Finally, you pull back shocked.

“You stalker!” you accuse, Billy just chuckles turning to face the game. “And I was multitasking.” you try to defend your abysmal performance, gesturing to the group now huddled around galaga. 

“Sure, sure. Let me show you how it’s done.” he says confidently, starting the queued up game. 

“Hey! That was my quarter!” You protest. Billy only chuckles again.

“I’ll get the next one, crazy.” he tells you, keeping his eyes fixed on the screen.

AN: sorry this took so long... again!

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[whimsicalpolitical]

He’s begging babe stay, stay, stay- Matty Healy x Reader

a/n: self titled era has a special place in my heart and I wanted to write a proper story regarding this era. Sorry if it’s shit and it feels like it’s very long.

content warning: maybe a bit angsty? fluff, smut, 18+ MDNI, p in v, dry humping, fingering, praise, dirty talk

It’s a shit day. All you have done until now is count the hours until your brother Ross is leaving to go on tour with his band.

The past days the boys were at your house just hanging around, smoking and to practice in your garage. You know because you spent time in the living room, pretending to work when all you’ve done is watch him or listen to his voice.

Matty's voice, raw and magnetic, cut through the music. Every time he sang, it felt like the world around you blurred, leaving only his voice in sharp focus.

Some times in their breaks you prayed that he would leave the garage to get a drink and when he did you felt giddy, like a nervous school girl.

Your eyes followed his every move. His black skinny jeans clinging to his body, the black shirt and leather jacket matching his persona. He’s just so attractive.

You’re grateful that Ross is part of the band. The past years have been a blessing because you could innocently see Matty and be around him without it being weird.

Your heart started racing when he entered the room, most of the times it was the middle of the night and you were grateful for the darkness that hid your flushed cheeks. You tried to focus on your breathing, but it was futile. The mere thought of him noticing you made you feel like a bundle of nerves. You had been around these boys all your life, but Matty—Matty was different.

You’re dreading the moment he leaves the house for good..

21:18- You’re sitting on the porch trying to smoke the thoughts away but every drag hurts your lung immensely.

They’re playing ‘you’ right now and you can’t help but close your eyes to the muffled music. You really will cry to the end. Cry until there’s no tears left. Maybe it’s over the top because you can’t even hold eye contact with Matty and he would never fall for you.

You’re very aware of the many different girls he had or has. And you, you had your first kiss a month ago with some football player because you tried to forget about him but you just can’t.

The reality of their imminent departure is settling in. The garage is alive with music, but you feel the weight of the upcoming silence. You will miss Ross, of course. His absence will leave a void in the house, but Matty's absence will leave a void in your heart.

You take another drag, the smoke burning your throat. The stars above are a blur through your tears. You wish you can be brave enough to tell him how you feel, but the fear of rejection is paralyzing. You would rather suffer in silence than risk the delicate balance of your current reality.

As the song changes to ‘robbers’, you let yourself sink into the music. The lyrics feel like they are written for you, capturing the longing and the heartache you can’t express. Tomorrow, they will be gone, and you will be left with nothing but memories and unspoken words.

You exhale slowly, the smoke dissipating into the night air. The porch light flicker, casting fleeting shadows. The night is as restless as you are, and the loneliness is beginning to set in. You hug your knees to your chest, feeling the cold concrete against your skin, and let the tears fall.

The music winds down, the final chords of hanging in the air like a whispered goodbye. You feel the silence settling in, heavy and inevitable. The garage door creaks open, and the boys' laughter floats out into the night, but it feels distant, like it belongs to another world. You crush the cigarette under your foot, watching the embers fade, a mirror to your fading hope.

You’re sitting there hugging your knees, covering your face and you can’t even hear footsteps approaching.

“D’you mind some company?”

This can’t be.

You look up, mascara completely ruined but you wipe your face with your sleeves. Matty is looking at you and his gaze drops, you think it’s almost a bit of worry.

“Shit,” he says, “sorry, I can go if I’m interrupting?”

“No no, it’s ok.” You say, pulling out another cigarette.

He nods as he leans against a wooden beam in your driveway, mirroring your movements by also lighting a cigarette.

The silence is sickening. You sure as hell won’t say anything because he caught you crying like a wimp in front of the door while they are playing their songs.

“S’ it Ross?” You think about how stupid the question is and you agree with Matty even though you want to say, ‘No, it's you.’

"Yeah," you lie, nodding. "It's Ross. Just gonna miss having him around."

Matty takes a drag, his eyes fixed on some distant point in the darkness. "He'll be back, you know. It’s just a tour. He’ll come home."

You nod, the lie sitting heavy in your chest. "I know. It's just... different without him here."

He flicks the ash from his cigarette, the glow illuminating his features for a brief moment. "Yeah, it's always different when someone's gone. Makes you realize how much you take them for granted."

He’s looking at you. He’s seeing you. The way he looks at you makes your breath catch in your throat. There's an intensity in his gaze, a softness that you rarely see. It's like he's trying to understand, to reach out without words.

You wonder how he sees you. Here you are, sitting on the porch with ruined mascara, tears staining your cheeks, and your heart on display. It's embarrassing, and you feel exposed under his gaze. But there's something in the way he looks at you that makes you think he sees more than just the tears and the smudged makeup. Maybe he sees the vulnerability, the raw emotion that you've been trying to hide.

You want to tell him it's not just Ross. That the thought of him leaving is what's tearing you apart. But the words stick in your throat, and you just nod again, staring at the ground.

“Ross became my family as well,” he says softly, “means you’re family too and we all are going to miss you.”

Your heart aches at his words, knowing how much more they mean to you than they do to him. "Thanks, Matty.“

You wonder if it’s the last time you’ll say his name, how long it will take for you to say it again.

“How long until you leave here?” You ask hoping deep down he tells you they won’t leave at all.

“Planned on leaving at 2,” he tries to smile, “punctuality isn’t our strength as you may know.”

You manage a small laugh, though it feels hollow. "Yeah, I know."

He glances at his watch and then back at you. "It's not too late. We still have some time. You should come inside, hang out with us for a bit.”

“I think I’ll stay out here for a bit.” You want to be alone with him, and the thought of being in a room with the whole band right now feels overwhelming. So you decline, shaking your head gently.

He seems to understand, not pushing further. Instead, he surprises you by sitting down next to you on the porch steps. The proximity sends a rush of warmth through you, even in the cool night air.

"Y'know, I've always liked these quiet moments. Sometimes, it's nice to just... be.”

You nod, appreciating his words. "Yeah, it is.”

He turns his head slightly to look at you, and you meet his gaze. There's a softness in his eyes, a hint of something that feels almost like longing.

You notice Matty's smell—a mix of his cologne, a hint of leather from his jacket, and something distinctly him. It’s comforting and intoxicating, a scent you know you'll miss.

You shift slightly, turning to face him. "Do you ever think about what comes next?" you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

He looks at you, his eyes reflecting the dim porch light. "Sometimes," he admits. "But it's hard to focus on the future when the present is so demanding."

You nod, understanding all too well. "I get that. But I mean, beyond the tours and the music. What do you see for yourself?"

He takes a deep breath, his gaze thoughtful. "Honestly, I don't know. I guess I hope for something more stable, something real. It's easy to get lost in the chaos, but I want to find something that grounds me." His eyes drop to your lips and if you would have blinked in that moment you would have missed it. “Someone who grounds me.”

“I understand,” you gulp, wanting to be the person.

“I think about it.” You frown, not knowing what he means. “What it would be like to settle down, find someone real.”

“Like a relationship?”

“Yeah,” he says quietly, “someone who just gets it. Would sort me out I think.”

“Maybe.” You could fucking punch yourself. You’re giving short ass answers but you’re scared to say more. You’re scared that if you reveal yourself it would be so much worse when he’s gone.

He leans back slightly, his arm brushing against yours. "Maybe it's not so far off, you know? Sometimes, the right person is closer than you think."

You feel a blush rising to your cheeks, and you look away, hoping he doesn't notice. But he does and he thinks it’s for the wrong reason.

“Do you have a person?” He asks.

“Don’t you think you would know, you’re here all the time.”

He chuckles and it might be your favorite sound. “Alright you’ve got a point there, love.”

Love. It’s a british thing but your heart still skips a beat, and a warmth spreads through your chest, melting away any lingering doubts or fears. The simple term of endearment feels like a promise, a glimpse of something more between you.

“Does it mean you still haven’t had your first kiss yet?” The question surprises you, he’s very forward and it makes you regret that you didn’t wait. Because maybe he could’ve been your first kiss.

“No I had my first kiss,” you say, “wasn’t anything serious though.”

“How was it?”

That’s the Matty you’re familiar with. Not the ‘romance talk’ kind of guy but the guy who has a shit eating grin on his face because he’s experienced and wants to know everything about the sex life of others.

“Not sure,” you cringe, “wasn’t how I imagined it.”

“How did you imagine it?”

“I didn’t imagine him slipping me tongue the second we kiss,” you groan at the memory and he laughs, “and he was just so violent, didn’t really feel good.”

He hums, stepping out the cigarette. “S’ a bummer, everyone should know how a good kiss feels.”

You don’t know what he’s hinting at because it would be dumb to assume he’s projecting the statement on to you.

“Not every guy is like that.” He says and your eyes find his again, “mate was bloody inexperienced.”

Matty is only 23 years old, three years older than you. Can’t be that much of a different between the guys.

"Yeah, well, it's not like I've got a lot of experience either," you admit, feeling a bit exposed.

He gives you a sympathetic look, but there's a playful edge to it. "Experience isn't everything, love. It's about the connection, the moment. And trust me, when it's right, you'll know."

You do know. You know with him, you’re sure that you want to kiss him. You want to experience life with him, do everything.

“A good kiss shouldn’t leave you feeling anything but wanted.” He shifts closer, his thigh now next to yours.

You look at him, feeling a flutter of nerves in your stomach. "Yeah?"

He nods, his gaze never leaving yours. “Yeah.”

You can feel the electricity in the air as Matty leans closer, his eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that makes your heart race. Your mind is a whirlwind of emotions—excitement, fear, longing. For years, you’ve harbored these feelings for him, tucking them away in the corners of your heart. He’s always been more than just your brother’s bandmate. He’s been the one who makes your pulse quicken, the one whose presence can light up your entire day.

You've watched him with other girls, feeling a pang of jealousy each time. You've imagined what it would be like to be the one he looks at with that mischievous grin, the one he holds close in the quiet moments. And now, here you are, on the brink of something you’ve dreamed about for so long.

Your thoughts are a jumble, your heart pounding in your chest. You want to kiss him so badly it aches. The desire has been building for years, a slow burn that has now become an overwhelming flame. The way he makes you feel—giddy, nervous, hopeful—no one else has ever come close. He’s the reason you find yourself smiling for no reason, the reason your heart feels too big for your chest sometimes.

You glance at his lips, and the anticipation makes your breath hitch. You’re nervous, of course you are—this is Matty, the guy you’ve loved from a distance for so long. But beneath the nerves, there’s a deeper, more insistent feeling: the need to finally close the gap, to feel his lips on yours and know what it’s like to be kissed by him.

You swallow hard, feeling a mix of excitement and fear. "Matty, I... I don't know what I'm doing."

"That's alright, love. Everyone's gotta start somewhere. Just tell me what you want." He gives you a reassuring smile, his hand brushing against yours.

You take a deep breath, gathering your courage. "I want... I want to know what a good kiss feels like."

His smile widens, a glint of something mischievous in his eyes. "Well, I can help with that."

You nod, feeling a rush of anticipation.

He leans in slowly, giving you time to back away if you want. But you don't. Instead, you tilt your head slightly, your eyes fluttering closed as his lips meet yours.

The kiss is gentle at first, his lips soft and warm against yours. There's no rush, no urgency, just a slow, deliberate exploration. His hand cups your cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against your skin.

You relax into the kiss, feeling the spark, the connection. It's everything he said it would be—electric, grounding, and utterly unforgettable.

It's like every dream, every late-night fantasy you've ever had is coming to life in this single, perfect moment. His lips are warm and soft, moving gently against yours, and it feels as if time has stopped.

Your heart is racing, pounding so hard you're sure he must feel it too. There's a nervous excitement bubbling inside you, mingling with a deep, almost overwhelming sense of joy. The kiss is tender, unhurried, and you can feel the care and attention he's giving to every movement. It's everything you imagined and more.

Years of unspoken longing, of watching him from afar and wishing for this very moment, flood through you. You've dreamed of this kiss, of being close to him like this, feeling his breath mix with yours. The reality of it surpasses every fantasy, every hopeful thought. The connection you feel is electric, a spark igniting between you that sends shivers down your spine.

His hands are gentle, one cupping your cheek, the other resting lightly on the small of your back. The warmth of his touch sends shivers through your body, grounding you in this moment. The way he holds you feels protective, yet respectful, as if he's cradling something precious.

You almost whine when he pulls back.

“How’s that?” He asks, a soft murmur, his thumb still caressing your cheek.

You don’t have any words. You have to concentrate that you won’t start crying because of all the things you felt while his lips were on yours.

“Where’s your mind gone, love?” He asks, lifting your chin, not even realizing that you dropped it. “Care to tell me?”

He stops and he puts his hand back to his own body. You’re scared now, that you’ve done something wrong, that you’re too innocent for him.

“Was the kiss shit?”

“No!” It comes out way too fast, “it was the opposite.”

You can tell he’s relieved but he still doesn’t know why you’re reacting this way.

“I just don’t- ugh,” you groan.

“Take your time.”

You would but the truth is you don’t have time.

“I don’t want it to end but I don’t think you realize what you’re doing to me.” You admit and it’s a huge step for you.

“I think we have a lot to chat about hm?” He says and stands up. You don’t, you only stand up when he offers you his hand.

Matty’s hand reaches out, his fingers slowly intertwining with yours. The contact is gentle yet firm, his touch sending a thrill through your body. Your fingers are cold from the night air, but his are warm, and the contrast makes you shiver slightly.

The warmth of his hand spreads through you, soothing the anxiety that had been knotting in your stomach. His fingers fit perfectly between yours, like two pieces of a puzzle coming together. It feels so natural, so right, and you can’t help but squeeze his hand gently, as if to reassure yourself that this is real.

He smiles, his eyes filled with a mix of affection and relief. "Your hands are freezing," he murmurs, his thumb lightly brushing over the back of your hand.

You laugh softly, the sound a little shaky. "Yeah, well, it’s not exactly warm out here."

“Let me talk to the boys real quick, then we can go inside yeah?”

“Sure.” You don’t know what he’s going to say to them, if he’s going to tell them the truth about where he’s going and what he’s doing but on the other hand you don’t even know what he’s doing.

He’s leaving you on the doorstep and you already pull out your keys to open the door. When he comes back you embrace him. His eyes meet yours, and for a moment, everything else fades away. He's wearing that familiar smirk, his hair tousled, and you can't help but admire how effortlessly handsome he looks. There's a magnetism to him, a charm that draws you in

“Your room alright to talk?” He asks as you both go inside, where it is a lot warmer. The heat is getting to you and you feel a familiar tingly feeling in your stomach.

You don’t want to wait until you can talk or kiss again or feel him on you. You want to grab his arm and pull him against you and devour him whole. But you’re too shy to let him know.

“It’s straight down the hall,” you mumble, letting him lead you upstairs, his hands now intertwined with yours again.

22:30- And you’re in your room, sitting on the bed which is fucking exciting because Matty is sitting on your bed.

He’s getting rid of his jacket and throws it on a little chair next to your dest. He’s wearing a basic black shirt with a cutout, his tattoo on display for you.

“Talk to me, I want to know what’s on your mind, and clearly there’s a lot on your mind.” You both sit on the edge of the bed and after he’s gotten rid of his jacket he grabbed your hand again.

“I don’t know where to start,” you whisper truthfully.

Matty's hand tightens around yours, and you feel a rush of nerves as you meet his gaze. His eyes hold a mixture of curiosity and warmth, encouraging you to speak your mind.

“I don't know how to say this," you begin, your voice barely above a whisper. "But I've... I've liked you for a while now."

He raises an eyebrow, a small smile playing at the corners of his lips. "Is that so?" he says, his tone light.

You nod, feeling a flush creeping up your cheeks. "Yeah. And I don't know... I don't know how to interpret the kiss. Why did you kiss me?"

Matty lets out a soft laugh, his thumb tracing circles on the back of your hand. "Why does anyone kiss anyone?" he replies, his gaze meeting yours. "Because they want to, I s’pose."

You can't help but scoff at his nonchalant response.

“You think too much, love.” He chuckles and grabs your chin to look at him. “I kissed you because I like you as well.”

“You do?” You ask.

This is all happening very fast and you doubt his words, not believing that he likes you.

As Matty's words sink in, you feel like you're floating in a dream. Did he really just say that he kissed you because he likes you too? The thought sends a rush of warmth through your entire being, and you can't help but let out a breathless laugh.

“I do,” he nods.

“Now what?”

“Up to you, love,” your head is pounding, the room is spinning, the kiss from earlier still in your head and you just want the feeling back.

You lean forward to kiss him again, your lips finding his and his hand on the back of your neck, making sure you won’t leave his your place. You can’t breathe which makes you gasp and matty slides his tongue into your mouth.

You didn’t know that this can be hot, you go with the flow, letting your tongue brush against his in a steady rhythm. You’re getting hot, your skin is on fire and you’re sure he can feel it.

You’re panting more than Matty when you both pull back to breathe. Your pupils are already dilated and you’re ready for more. You’re never ready for anything but with Matty it just feels right.

“Can we just do this for a while?” You ask, wanting to be absolutely sure of what you’re going to ask him in a couple of minutes.

“Of course, love, it’s your pace we’re going for.” You smile at his answer but before you can kiss him again he speaks.

“Can you get on my lap, it’s more comfortable this way.” You blush but nod.

You waist no time to sit yourself fully on top of him, your legs on each side of his narrow hips. You stare at him through half lidded eyes, if you were a cartoon there would surely be hearts drawn all over them, as he captures your lips in a slow kiss. The two of you sigh and grunt into each other's mouths, moaning softly when hands met bare skin, pulling and squeezing all the right places. 

“Breathe, love, we’ve got time.”

“We don’t.”

You melt into the next kiss, your arms wrapped around his neck. You feel him, he’s hard and you want to grind your hips but you have self control and you don’t know if that’s what you want.

He feels the same though, wanting to touch you everywhere at the same time, wanting to undress you and show you how much you mean to him.

He finally lets his hands wander over your sides, under your shirt and you sigh into his mouth. You still need more. “Can I touch you here?” He asks, referring to your boobs and you nod.

His hands meet your waist, run over your tummy, and up to your breasts, palming them lightly, not quite the way you are expecting. You grab wherever you can get your hands on — his shoulders, his back, pulling him closer and closer — huffing when it’s getting too much, or too little.

The kisses you share are still slow, sensual, following the rise and fall your shared breathing, but this time he follows your lead, running his hands over your thighs, your hips, grabbing your ass and dragging it over the front of his jeans, where you can feel him. You bite his lower lip, and your eyes are still closed but you can feel his smile.

“Need to tell me f’ you want something,” he says against your lips.

You hum, not saying anything but you roll your hips again, whimpering when the friction is perfect against your clothed pussy.

“Wait, love,” he makes you whine as he stills your hips. “Need to know what you’ve done.”

“Nothing more then kiss.” You say and he’s not even surprised anymore.

“Oh,” he groans, he’s fully turned on and he can’t believe it’s him who’s going to show you how perfect you can feel. “I don’t want to pressure you, I’m fine with kissing.”

“I’m not,” you interrupt, “please just do something.”

You’re begging and it drives him insane. “Alright alright, lay down for me, will you?”

You lay down on the bed and watch him get rid of his shirt, throwing it on top of his jacket. He’s crawling over you, kissing your face before moving down to your neck.

“You touched yourself before though right?”

You nod, feeling too embarrassed to let out words. He’s sucking at your neck so sweetly you’re sure you’ll forget your name.

“Can I?” He refers to your shirt and you answer with a short ‘yes.’ He pulls your shirt over your head and you reveal your black lace bra to him.

He groans, “if you want me to stop,” he says, his lips returning to your fiery skin, trailing barely there kisses down the expanse of your neck. Your eyes flutter shut, hands grasping at his bare sides. “You tell me right away.” His kisses litter your throat, your collarbone, all the way to your breasts. “Understand?”

“Yes,” you moan.

“Clever girl,” the praise goes straight to your core which you are pressing against his bulge.

“Lift up—” he says, giving your thighs a light tap. You lift your hips from the mattress, allowing him room to shuffle the fabric off your legs. You assist him towards the end, fluttering your feet until you could kick the jeans to the floor. Within seconds, he is back between your thighs, this time straddling his shoulders as he settles further down the mattress. His face inches away from your cunt, now only protected by the thin cotton barrier. 

“And when you touch yourself,” he continues, fingers tracing the softest shapes on the outside of your thighs, over your hips. You can feel his hot breath through your panties, and it makes you squirm. “How many fingers do you use?” 

“Two- sometimes three, like to rub my clit though.” You are even surprised that you’re vocal but your eyes are on the clock and you know there’s no time for being shy.

“Can do that f’you, let me?”

“Yes yes.” He slides off your panties.

He never takes his lips off of yours when you feel the pads of his fingers prod at your hole, already leaking with desire. You anticipated his fingers to be much larger than yours, but when he sinks his two digits in, the stretch is satisfying. The way he works up your arousal aiding in how easy it is to slowly pump them in and out, curling up ever so slightly to find the spongy spot inside of you. 

“Matty.”

He begins to quicken his pace, the flex of his forearm curving his fingers up into that sweet spot with precision, leaving your toes to clench and your thighs to squeeze around his head.

You are begging for his name like a prayer, the only word you can find as your abdomen tightens, a subtle tremor cursing through your legs.

“You’re a dream come true.”

You brush his hair from his forehead, wanting to have a clear view of his eyes when your jaw falls slack, the euphoric high starting at your core and bursting out over the rest of you.

At first, you couldn’t move, can’t think, couldn’t breathe. But Matty keeps working thumb on your clit and his fingers inside of you through your orgasm so adamantly that your head flings back, and a lewd moan echoing off your lips.

“Fuck,” you whine and when he drags his fingers out of you, you can hear the sound of your slick.

He takes them into his mouth, licking the glistening off of his finger. “Taste so sweet, love.”

He lays completely on top of you again, he’s trying not to rut into your leg but you got him so turned on it hurts.

You whine into his mouth, wanting him to fuck you but it’s your first time and you’re nervous and your mind starts rushing again.

“I got you, love, it’s just me,” yeah that’s the fucking problem. “We don’t need to go any further since you have never.”

“My first time was shit, don’t want that for you,” he continues, now you wonder about the details but maybe he can tell you some other time.

“I want this, with you Matty, no one else.” You earn another kiss to you lips.

“Hang on then,” he stands up to grab his wallet from his jacket and he pulls out a condom, it’s cliche and it’s making you giggle that he has a fucking condom in his wallet.

He pulls his pants down and his boxers and your eyes drop down to his fully hard length which is dripping red. He’s big. Now you’re scared of how it will fit.

He puts the condom on and moves on top of you again. “I’m going slow, don’t want to hurt you now do I.”

“If I do though, you tell me or tap my head okay?”

You nod and he tuts, “tell me, love.”

“I will, I promise.”

His mouth lowers down to yours as he slowly begins sheathing himself inside you, inch by inch. He is taking it slowly, which you appreciate. Feeling tears prick in the corners of your eyes at the painful but pleasurable fullness, he leans down to kiss them away.

“I will make it better yeah?, s’ normal that it hurts.”

Once he’s fully buried inside you he keeps his hips still, peppering kisses all over your face. “Shit,” you hiss, still feeling a sting.

“I know,” he keeps kissing your face, your neck, your arms to try to make it better. “Don’t worry, keep that head here with me.” He realized that you wanted to drift off again, but he keeps you in reality.

After a while the smile that adorns your lips makes him feel relieved, hating that he hurt you even for a minute. Once you are some what used to the feeling of him inside you, you lift your hips gently to show him you are ready. Matty is still hesitant with his movements, that is until you start moaning. The pain still lingers faintly, but the pleasure that’s coursing through you is enough to over come it.

“You’re such a good girl,” your hands grip his shoulders as continues to rock his hips into yours, his pace beginning to speed up. Matty is pressing a messy kiss to your lips, tongues dancing together as he makes love to you. There isn’t a doubt in your mind that this is what making love should feel like.

He brings his finger between your bodies, gently rubbing your clit. You don’t stop the constant cries from falling from your lips, head falling deeper into the pillows behind you. Matty can’t help but groan, your noises spurring him on further.

“You’re doing so good, showing me how good you feel, keep that going.”

Your nails are leaving behind crescents in the skin of his shoulders, but he doesn’t seem to mind. With his available hand he slips a pillow under your hips. Providing him a deeper angle as his thrusts become sharper.

“Stay, stay Matty, stay,” you moan. You both know how you mean those words. Of course you want him to stay inside of you but the real meaning behind those words are that you don’t want him to leave ever. You can’t handle him going away.

“It’s alright, everything’s alright hm,” You can barely get a sentence out, Matty fucking any remaining thoughts from your head.

He knows you aren’t going to last much longer, as your walls repeatedly pulse around his cock. He rubs your clit faster, feeling himself starting to loose it as you scream out his name. Your orgasm shakes your frame, as he continues to fuck you through the euphoria. It only takes a few more thrusts before Matty meets his end, singing you sweet praises as he spills into the condom.

“You’ve done so fucking good, Christ,” you can’t help but smile as he nearly collapses on top of you, his lips leaving kisses anywhere he can reach.

You’re both sweaty and exhausted, as he slowly slips out of you. You try not to wince as you feel so empty, already missing the feeling of him nestled inside you. You wonder if you ever going to know the feeling.

You watch fondly as Matty ties off the condom and tosses it in bin next to your bed. You immediately reach for him once he’s done, pulling him back down onto the blankets with you. Matty lays his head on your breasts with a content sign as you stroke your hand through his hair. The only sounds are of your breathing.

00:30- and you’re cuddling in your bed, you’re clinging to him, holding on to the remaining touch he can give you.

“Are you alright, love?” He asks.

“Yes, thank you matty.”

“Nonsense,” he says, rolling on to his back to pull you on top of him, “thank you, big step for you.”

“Yeah,” you sigh in contentment.

You drape one leg over his thigh, a hand of yours traveling over his tattoos.

“Matty?” You break the silence, looking up at him. You want to tell him how you feel, how he made you feel and how you want him in your life. You don’t want this to be the last time and you don’t want him to come back in two years with some random girl. You want to be his girl.

You think about how you tell him, if you should tell him. Minutes pass and he lifts your chin to give you a kiss. “I know.” Is all he says.

You stay like this for some time, not wanting to know the time.

-

2:15- and you look outside your window to see him driving away.

[pnutbutter-n-j-elyy]

Cover Me

Request: I got a request in my inbox for this fic. A Channie bias had sent an anon request wishing for a reaction. They had shared that they had lost their parents and they are an only child with no one, so there were times they felt alone and wake up feeling empty. I was editing the fic and accidentally posted it- and then deleted it because it wasn't finished thus leading me to lose that inbox request- so I'm really really hoping that they can see this either on my page or due to a repost or something. Because I just want to say that I know in times of suffering words rarely do anything to actually help. But I do know that words can create scenarios that provide an escape- even if just for a few minutes. So I'm hoping this can create that pocket of peace for you; and hopefully bring you a smile. Because I'm more than sure wherever your parents are now that they're smiling; and would love to see you smile back. <3

Chan x Gn!Reader Angst (Established Relationship)TW: Mentions of Death and Loss

I sort of wanted to make this kind of based off the song "Cover Me" by SKZ. When Rockstar was first released, I remember pressing play right at 12am when it dropped- and when Cover Me played I began to cry. Even without understanding the lyrics at the time I could hear the vulnerability of a searing kind of sadness. And it immediately became one of my all time favorite songs- if not tied for favorite along with Hellevator. Pain is a universal thing- but each and every person's experience with pain and grief is a unique experience. And even just through the sound of the song I think it was touched on beautifully. Because in those times everyone looks to be covered...So if you're the kind of person who like to relate stories to music- then I'd recommend giving Cover Me a listen.

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The night enveloped your apartment, thick with silence and shadows.

It was a quiet yet constant reminder of what you’d lost - your parents, their laughter, the warmth of their hugs. Their words. Lectures. Things you may have taken for granted in the moment but wished more than anything now you could be a part of once more.

Being an only child, that ache felt sharper, more isolating than it would be for most. Especially on mornings like this, the weight of loneliness is suffocating. And it didn't help that you had barely been able to get to sleep the night prior.

You had woken up today with a heaviness in your chest, a reminder of the emptiness that followed you like a relentless shadow. In a desperate attempt to escape it, you turned on your phone, scrolling through your playlists until you landed on Stray Kids.

Chan’s voice, the soothing anchor in your sea of sorrow, filled the room as you pulled up an old livestream.

As you listened to him laugh, joke, and share stories with fans, a bittersweet smile tugged at your lips.

In real life or online, he had a way of making everything feel lighter but even his comforting presence couldn’t always chase away the ghosts of your past.

More often than not they just provided a temporary escape.

In the midst of his laughter, you felt tears well up and blur your vision.

You missed your parents terribly today. You wanted them to be here, to share in the little things in life, your favorite moments - the way the moon shone outside, how it painted everything in silver, the memories that had been exchanged in moments that you had never known were going to be your last.

You felt the loss like a physical weight, the ache in your heart mirroring the brightness of the moon outside.

You choked on a sob, wishing someone would hear your cry, wishing for that warmth, that comfort that embrace that acted as a panacea to the worries of life.

And just as you thought you’d crumble under the loneliness, you felt a familiar warmth envelop you. You hadn't even heard him come home. but now Chan was there, arms wrapped around you from behind, his chin rested softly on your shoulder.

"I heard you crying," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper, thick with concern. "What’s wrong, love?"

The warmth of his presence grounded you, and you leaned back into him, seeking the comfort of his body against yours. "I miss them so much today," you confessed, the words spilling out in a rush. "It hurts."

He tightened his hold, his fingers tangling gently in your hair. "Thats only normal." he said, his voice filled with empathy. "I’m right here, love. Know that I'm here."

You turned to face him, the moonlight illuminating his features, making him look ethereal. His eyes were soft yet filled with understanding, and it felt like he could see right into your heart.

"I don’t know how to cope with this sometimes," you admitted, your voice trembling. "Some days are harder than others. And I don't know why some days I don't think about it at all. Why can't all days be like those days?"

He brushed a thumb across your cheek, catching a stray tear. "You’re allowed to grieve. And it's not a linear thing. You'll have those ups and downs. Just know that whenever the pain feels too much, I’ll be here to help you carry it. I'll always be willing to help you carry it."

As you leaned into him, the tears continued to fall, but this time, they felt lighter. The vulnerability in the air was palpable, but so was the warmth of Chan’s love. His presence was a cure, easing the sharpness of your sorrow.

You settled into the rhythm of his heartbeat, the soft rise and fall of his chest soothing your racing thoughts. "You make me feel less alone."

Chan nodded, understanding the depth of your feelings albeit a few simple words. "I’ll always be that someone for you. You’re never alone, even in your darkest moments." His voice was steady, a reassuring anchor amidst the storm.

Then he kissed your forehead softly, wrapping you in a cocoon of warmth and safety. You felt the tension begin to ease, his soothing presence wrapping around you like a protective blanket.

"Let’s watch the stars together," he suggested, pulling you up gently; then leading you toward the backyard.

You stepped outside, the cool night air brushing against your skin. You settled into the grass, Chan sitting beside you as you gazed up at the stars. "Look at how beautiful they are," he said, pointing out constellations. "I'd like to think that maybe your parents were allowed to hang some up for you as a lasting gift, hmm?"

You took a shaky breath and spoke. "I think they would have gifted me moonbeams..." You said quietly, looking at the full moon that lookes so fat and bright- as if you could reach out and grab it. "They always knew I loved the moon."

You laid back and Chan laid back with you in the grass, the blades tickling the back of your neck as a soft breeze blew past.

In the quietness, you heard Chan start to hum softly- and then sing.

"Dari ireoke nunbusineun bamen..." (On nights when the moon shines this bright)

You closed your eyes and let Chan's voice travel through your ears.

"Why do I feel so lonely in this night? Saebyeokbarameun mabeobilkka?" (Is the dawn breeze magical?)

In that moment, surrounded by the stars and moon wrapped in Chan’s voice you let your tears fall silently.

It hurt. With every beat of your heart you felt that strain.

"Yeah, I tried to hide away from all the sorrow and pain. But little did I know that I was going insane. The sun will always be there waiting after the rain."

And this moment only made you realize ever so much that the pain of loss would never fully fade.

"I can't take it anymore, what should I do?."

Your tears were hot as Chan intertwined his fingers through yours. Squeezing them lightly.

"Oneureun moreun cheok nungama jwo..." (Today, pretend not to notice and close your eyes)

You opened your eyes looking up at the silver moon. Wondering if they could see you, hear you. Acknowledge that pain you were harboring.

"So cover me now."

Please. Please.

"Cover me now."

You swallowed continued to stare at the moon and let your eyes trace over the stars as well. Leading you to the person beside you.

"Dari ireoke nunbusineun bamen.Nuga jeo bicheul garyeojugil oechyeo." (On nights when the moon shines this bright. I cry out, hoping for someone to cover that light)

His eyes were closed, a few tears of his own falling; letting you know that he felt for you too. That someone was out there, willing to help with that burden of pain.

A burden you had long since gotten tired of carrying.

"Bami eoneusae kkeuchi naneun najen Ttaseuhan bicheul naerijjoeneun bicheul."  (During the day, when night finally ends. I accept the warm light shining down)

A burden you no longer had to carry alone.

Since you had finally found your cover.

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@abovenyx @wolfs-archive @oddracha

@iyeeeverydee @parisanmorovati @seungmincenteric

@panbish-1209 @fxiry-vtt @sseawavee

@shuporanporang @amarecerasus @softkisshyunjin

@whoa-jo @meanergreener @rikibun

@ayyonoona @shinywombatcrusade @y4yayael

@skzstan12345 @mariteez @allys-reads

@jazziwritesthings @skzstannie @yongbokkiesworld

@kkkeopi @neverendingstay @moony-9

@minsungsthirdwheel @everlastingspring143 @joyofbebbanburg

@leezanetheofficial @tr-mha-fan @bubbly-moon

@night-storm7 @missmajdastark @axel-skz

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[cas-backwards-tie]

Wonderstruck

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Ex!Reader

Summary: Simon Riley finally takes it upon himself to check up on his childhood best friend and ex lover. He's been torturing himself reminiscing on your relationship and what went wrong for years now. Little does he know... you're in the same boat. Having seen someone today you swore was Simon on your way to work, you too, reflect on the past.

Words: 3.2k

Warnings: Cursing, Angst, Stalking(?),

Mentions of: Drinking, Smoking, Motorcycle Riding

A/N: I don't know why but I constantly am getting inspired by certain songs, or am reminded of certain characters, and all the lyrics were just screaming childhood best friends to estranged lovers, right person wrong time Simon Riley. Nevertheless, if you'd love to listen to some versions of the song which inspired me, here we are! Line divider credit: @saradika-graphics and I'd also love to thank @penelopepine for helping me with the ending <3

He knew it was a bad idea as soon as it'd crossed his mind, yet somehow he couldn't rid himself of it time and time again. That's how he found himself here; watching you cross the street, he can't help but notice the vintage band t-shirt you have on, frayed at the edges with the little strings of the hem coming undone that you've refused to cut off. In you hands you clutch a new phone, no doubt an upgrade from the last one he'd seen you with- though it's been a while.

As you mindlessly tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear, he can't help the way his insides churn. You were always effortlessly beautiful; you never had to try for anything. Even now, the way you can walk across the busy cobblestone side streets of London in high heels without seemingly second-guessing yourself, body language still poised on guard and ready in case anyone tries anything, just like he'd taught you.

It's clear from your outfit and the lipstick you’re donning that you're attempting to sway the officials at work. Maybe trying for that promotion you’d always been talking about, but never had the gumption to make today the day. What’s different about today, he wonders. You'd always been a go-getter, and truthfully, it was something Simon admired about you. Even in the moments where he'd resented it the most, the constant pestering and prodding at him in an attempt to get him to move and drag him out of the holes his dug himself into...

Where would he be now if only he listened?

What if you knew better?

He couldn't deny that the thoughts kept him up at night while he was away. Though, admittedly, more often than not it was the string of random memories that he’d get glimpses of during the day. It’d always be at the worst times, too. Two weeks ago in Berlin he’d been clapping Kyle on the back, hoping he’ll get it together as he stumbled out the pub. While Soap had the camaraderie to slug half his mate’s weight over his broad shoulders, Simon found himself unable to help as his eyes were drawn in by a couple a few paces down the block.

“Bollocks!” He’d shouted out in frustration. Double-checking himself, he didn’t have a spare cap on him, and he knew he sure as hell didn’t bring an umbrella on your little last minute ‘trip’. Not that he’d really call walking down to the local Tesco for snacks late one summer evening a trip. ‘It’ll be an adventure! Just think of it like that.’ You’d persuaded him.

“What? Are you going to melt?” He hears you joke. As his brown eyes land on your face when you turn to meet his gaze, a few steps ahead of him down the road, he can’t help the smile that breaks out across his lips upon your laughter. Sure, you may both be a little drunk after spending the evening in and having a drink or two. But it doesn’t change the way he feels about you, if anything, it makes him even more keenly aware of the way you affect him.

“Maybe. Who knows?” He teases in responses, tugging his jacket up and over his head to shield himself from the cool summer rain. Despite the time, now he’ll most likely need a shower when you get home. As he jogs to catch up and bring you under his little makeshift cocoon, you do the unexpected.

It was you, of course… he should’ve known better, always testing him, pushing him. With a gentle drop of the plastic bag full of snacks upon the side of the road you’d been strolling down, he watches as you run into the empty street. The streetlights illuminate you in a hazy orangey-yellow light as you begin to spin and twirl, dancing in the street.

With a shake of his head, he’s left stunned once again by the vast difference of your personalities. Your jeans and t-shirt are starting to get damp and discolored, and there’s a taunting, displeased remark sitting on his tongue just waiting to be made. It’s the utter joyous smile on your face as you tip your head back and relinquish yourself to your fate that leaves him wonderstruck, he thinks.

“Come on, Simon!” You beckon, finally meeting his gaze once again with that familiar carefree, hopeful look behind your irises. With an outstretched hand, he knows he can’t deny you this… and really, there’s something inside him that tells him he doesn’t want to, either.

“It’s her, innit?” He hears his Captain’s voice call over his shoulder. Pulled from his memories, Simon dismisses Price with a nonchalant grunt. As the old man tries to place a hand on his shoulder he dodges it, realizing he’s been watching the couple for longer than he’d thought. With Soap and Gaz almost to the end of the block, Simon sighs before shrugging his shoulders to right his jacket and head off in their direction for backup.

That was a time when your playfulness been more easily taken and accepted without question. No fighting, no push back, resentments… maybe that was it: he’d stopped going with the flow. He’d stopped accepting the punches and started dodging and weaving your advances at fixing things and picking up where he left you. Because while it’s too late now, he’s finally realized it for what it is: he left you in the dark, he’s the one who pushed you away, closed himself off.

That night he’d curled up in the temporary bed he’d been assigned, more memories continued to consume him. The way you’d effortlessly ease his worries on nights he’d come home stressed, feathers ruffled from whatever petty drama went on during the day. Whether it was something the guys said that stuck with him, or something he couldn’t get out of his mind when he came back from deployment. Your kisses always seemed to be the cure, your love… or maybe it was just… you.

“You know furrowing your brows like that will cause wrinkles,” you inform him, reaching out to run gentle fingers over his bunched skin.

A grunt of acknowledgment leaves his lips. “More for me to worry about, hm?” While it’s all he says, his eyes are searching over your composure.

“No,” it leaves your lips without thought, “just something to think about, be mindful of. If you’re not upset, then why furrow them?” Voice quiet in the moonlit apartment, your fingers smooth out his brows gently as you admire him. “I read something the other day about how it’s possible our body informs our mental state. If you’re tensing all the time, it won’t help your stress, Si.”

He simply hums in response, doing nothing to stop you as you ghost your lips over his for a moment before planting a loving chaste kiss to his. While big and wide warm hands find the exposed bit of skin between the hem of your sleeping pants and the shirt you wear, it’s the unexpected cool sensation that elicits a muffled gasp. Your much smaller hands are sneaking up underneath his sweatshirt to explore his abdomen, caressing him like he were made of soft silk. Your lips meet again for a chaste kiss.

Then it’s turning into something more; you have to take it slow, your lips dancing against one another, his hand rubbing your back to let you know it’s alright. As you begin to run out of breath, it’s only when you pull away, lashes fluttering against his skin that you ask him. “You know I’d love you even with wrinkles, right?”

Taken aback, he can’t help but stare. Unsure how to respond or what to do, his lips part in search of words. “Is that so?” He finally questions, hand giving your side a soft squeeze.

“My favorite boy… I love you to the moon and back… scars and all. I always have, and I always will, Simon,” you whisper, ghosting his lips again before planting one on him, “I just hope you know that.”

And at the time, he swore he did. It’s odd, really, and he wouldn’t lie to himself about it either. Simon tried dating after you, he tried hooking up, he tried it all… but it never felt right. As many times as he replays the memory, he can never get past the feeling of home. With you, it felt like home. You never made him feel expendable, or worry of the abandonment he knew would inevitably come.

For years afterward he blamed you, he saw it as your fault that you left, you abandoned him… when, maybe, really it’s finally time he admits it was him. He made it a self-fulfilling prophecy, and there was nothing you could do.

It's on your way home from work that you see them; while waiting for the bus, there's a playground in the park a few meters away. Really, the idea that human nature is predictable is always laughable at first, but only after watching people and stepping back to become an observer you've noticed from time to time that... it's more than true. Even from a distance, the children in the park look happy... but that's not what catches your eye. There's a blonde boy, and a girl, much like yourself when you were younger, playing what you can only assume is something halfway between hide and seek and tag, considering the playground offers more space and obstacles than hiding spots.

Perhaps it's the joyous looks on their little faces, or the way they unabashedly play, carefree and unaware of the adult worries and burdens the world hangs above their heads, just waiting any day to drop upon their shoulders unexpectedly. However, you can't help but reminisce on the ways you'd spent your childhood playing games much like the one the children are playing in the distance with a boy, very similar to the one before you, loving life, content, happy, simply aspiring to be the best at finding your ultimate hiding spot.

The soft squeak of the wheels coming to a halt before you and the mechanical release of air as the doors open brings your attention back to the present. Before you know it, you're on the bus, unconsciously taking a seat along the windows, hoping, just maybe you'll catch a glimpse of them as the bus drives down the road down its route. Though as you pass, the sun is beginning to set in the distance, the children departing the playground their separate ways as dusk begins to take its toll and curfew sets in place. The whole time you'd been focused on yourself, it's entirely possible that your own boy wound up beating you at your own game, finding the best spot and hiding himself away from the rest of the world.

Maybe it's the fact that you could've sworn you'd seen someone that looked almost identical to Simon on your way to work this morning, but memories continue to plague your mind for the first time in months. All the weekends he'd spent over at your house doing aimlessly silly things to fill your time, from science projects, to playing 'warrior' outside, you never felt more alive than the time you two spent together.

"I'll keep ya safe, yeah? Nothin' to worry about," Simon insists, gently guiding you to the side of the vehicle. Despite going out with your friends to the city for dinner, you both were sober. It should be fine, it would be. You'd been with him a million times... how different could it be? He'd run it by you as many times as you'd asked.

You swear it's not a good idea, but you trust him to the ends of the Earth. With a look over your shoulder, his brown eyes are steady, not uncertain in his unwavering gaze as he nods in assurance. Swinging a leg over the seat, you're in front this time. Helmets in place, hands on the clutch and brakes, you make eye contact with Simon once more before he flicks both your visors down. "Ready?" You ask him.

"More than ready, Love," he quips. With a quick shove to the kickstand, balance (with Simon's help of course), and a rev of the engine, you start the motorcycle off slowly. Gloved hands around your waist, he gives you a gentle squeeze.

He was always pushing you out of your comfort zone, that one. It was the first time you'd driven his motorcycle, and while it'd been scary and daunting for the first fifteen minutes, you eventually got used to it and it blossomed into something freeing. You understood then why he likes it, and you'd never been more grateful for someone pushing you out of your bubble. While flashes of all the kisses, caresses, and intimate moments between the two of you start to effervesce, you force yourself to remember the last time you'd seen him.

With a lingering hug, you're hesitant to let him go. Even if you know it's necessary, it's still hard... it always has been. "You'll let me know when you get in, right?" You ask, searching his eyes. They stand out from the black warpaint, his uniform always made him look handsome, even if you couldn't imagine how intimidating seeing his actual attire would be in his enemies position.

A dismissive and irritated grunt meets your ears as he shrugs your hands off. He'd packed quickly, something he's been doing more recently; taking more and more jobs, you've begun worrying for his health, not that he'd talk about it, of course. "If I 'ave time."

While you weren't able to get all the details on this excursion, you did manage to get that it was essentially a 'clean-up' for him. He had to go in and make sure that the hostages they'd had a lead on were all rescued and no one was left behind, no assailants or informants lingering or hiding. You've known that his job is hard on him. Losing people can't be easy, especially when you feel like you could've done things differently and changed the ending to their stories. Yet, you also know that throwing yourself into work the way he's been doing without talking to anyone, simply managing to pass debrief counseling by whatever meter their measuring is... not working. Not anymore, at least.

"You're running from this! You won't even answ-" you shout, gesticulating as you do everything in your power to keep the anger and worry that's tightly wound wrapped up in your gut under control, not to let anymore of it seep out than already has.

"An' you're one to talk?! You don't get to interrogate me," he argues, rounding the couch to get closer. The dark circles under his eyes scream volumes, even if he's unwilling to acknowledge whatever's going on for him. "I deal with that enough in my line o' work. Don't-"

"Simon," you say, tone holding that familiar warning tone.

You'd gotten home safely and were able to change and make something to eat. The feelings haven't left the cavity of your chest, still lingering there, the way he always does. He may be 'Ghost' on the field, yet he still haunts your memories, always making you question whether or not you did the right thing. What if only you'd done more? What if you hadn't pushed him so much? It wasn't always in a bad way, either, in fact, most of the time you'd find yourself chuckling randomly at some inside joke only the two of you share, or something he'd find funny. The stolen sweaters and hoodies you know for a fact long ago washed away his scent. Even if you swear sometimes that you can smell the faint odor of cigarettes he used to smoke. In the city when you're out with the girls you'd find yourself fondly inhaling the smell whenever a stranger would be smoking one nearby.

You'd cursed him: Simon Riley. Yet, the aching inside you he left often made you feel like he there's some sense of closure he never fully gave you. The SAS would tell you that he'd get your letters, even if you stopped writing years ago a little while after the split. You never got a response, and you never really expected one. Simon never really was one for letter writing. It was the only way you felt like you could get that closure, that part of your life done with. Ultimately, it did help you move on in some way.

A sigh tumbles past your lips as you change the channel on the television, unsure what you really feel like watching. A reality comedy show is on, something of a local prank show. It wasn't the best show, really, but it's one you used to watch a lot as a kid, and thus, another reminder of him. This one makes you smile, nonetheless. It's a good memory; nostalgia envelopes you in the way that makes you crave times that felt easier. Just when you wrap yourself in your fuzzy blanket, there's a soft rapt at the door.

Heart accelerating, eyes widening slightly, you slowly rise from the couch. The television volume isn't on loud, and while there may be light coming from it to inform a stranger you're home, that isn't enough to say that you're alone. With slow and cautious steps, you approach the door, careful to check the window near the door from a vantage point you're unseen. It's a man in a black hoodie. Panic sets in and you turn to skillfully head back toward the couch in search of your phone with quiet and quick steps. That's when it strikes you.

With all pretenses abandoned, you rush to the door and fling it open, lips parted in shock and awe. "Simon?" Searching and attempting to scan the partially shielded face, you're able to see tufts of blonde hair lit from the porch light.

"I know you've no reason to-" he starts, hands removing themselves from his hoodie's pocket, "but please let me come in and explain."

"You came back," you whisper. It's more for yourself than him, and whether it's out of bewilderment, intuitive knowing, or a premonition; you were right.

As he takes a step forward and reaches out for you with shaky hands produced from the familiar black pocket of his hoodie, you don't retract. Slow and tentative movements on both ends, he grabs ahold of one hand, thumb consciously skirting back and forth repeatedly in a form of grounding and seeking comfort. "You were right," his deep voice rasps.

Your hand cautiously seeks his cheek beneath the shield of his hood. Fully expecting to meet the spandex material of his balaclava, you're surprised by the warmth of his skin underneath your gentle touch. Wrist pushing against the cotton hood, it gives way, revealing his face. Searching his deep brown eyes for any sign he's genuine... you're met with truth.

With a weak nod you turn, leaving the door to shut softly behind the two of you.

~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

[where-does-the-heart-lie]

I'm up way later than I need to be and listening to music while I draw and this song gives me SUCH Sabo feelings and I would love to hear your opinions!! (Never Love An Anchor by The Crane Wives)

https://music.youtube.com/watch?v=Y07xArvIvjw&si=ffMbMHTWuHHnxY2C

You dare bring. The Crane Wives. Into this peaceful household.

Never Love an Anchor no less.

RELATING THE SONG TO THE BLORBO FROM MY SHOW NO LESS

The audacity.

Anyway.

Yeah it makes me think about how Sabo left Ace and Luffy on his own accord at the end. Of course it was a last resort but he left them because he knew that this was the only way for them all to be free.

He left knowing that he would probably not see him until they were 17. Or maybe even never again.

He left them so that they could be safe. Because as long as long as he was with him, as far as he could see, hands would still try to claim him, resulting in the ones he loves getting hurt.

There was no winning for Sabo or any of them. As long as he tried delaying the inevitable, it just never would have happened.

He had to give up what he loved so he could keep it.

And then after he regains his memories, him thinking how much he’s changed. His claws might hurt the one he loves so dearly, even though at this point he doesnt even know him anymore. What if when Luffy finds out that he was alive, it only hurts him deeper. Knowing that there was someone who would have made a difference that day wasnt there. Reliving not only that day in the moment of reuniting, but the say he lost Sabo, too.

I dont find it strange that Sabo didnt try to reunite with Luffy until dressrosa. And in fact i think that reuniting with luffy is something he did as an absolute last resort. I think he truly didnt want to meet him that day at all.

In the anime alone, it doesnt much show it, but in the manga and the Episode of Sabo his hesitance and nerves are really clear to me. He takes a second before he starts walking to talk to luffy. His hand is clutched and shaking. He walks as slowly as he can. And also he only does it after he knows that Luffy cant get the fruit.

They both need that fruit safe. An heirloom of their precious brother, the only thing they have left that can life on from him.

If Luffy could’ve finished that tournament, im fairly certain Sabo would’ve never revealed himself.

I think he feels like he might hurt luffy if he did, but i also think that he didnt feel he deserved it. To reunite with Luffy after all that time. After all that happened.

Going back to the song, the lyrics

“So, I did the only thing that i could And severed the rope to set you sailing from my harbor.”

Even though it was Sabo who went sailing from the harbor, what he was doing was sever the rope from his connections with luffy and Ace so that they could grow and be free without worrying about being held back by him and the weight of his life keeping him suffocating at the bottom of the harbor he’s being drowned in.

If sabo had successfully left Goa that day, and he had reunited with Ace or Luffy somewhere down the line, i think he would act the same way he did in dressrosa that day. I think he would feel his baggage is too much, someone could be after him. And he wouldnt want to reunite. Especially after how he left them.

To me, that letter didnt read as a “i hope i see you again”, but a “goodbye forever”. Which i mean,,,, it was one, at least in Ace’s case, so … 🤷‍♀️ kill me

Anyway, the sentencing of your crimes of Crane Wives-ing me will be capital punishment, i hope you understand.

Thanks for the ask!