#college life les go
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being closer to your 30s than 20s and having nothing to show for it is so
#personal#cannot finish college/uni cannot find a job bc poor mental health being dependent on parents still how pathetic#sometimes im like wow i should be grateful i havent been kicked out yet and then its like i need to be as little of a burden as possible#like gee wonder why i still struggle with an eating disorder after over a decade. if i cant fucking off myself might as well take up as lit#le space and use up as little resources as possible#even if i wanted and could afford to go back and get a degree i still wouldnt know what to major or get a degree in#they tell you in high school its okay to be undecided youll figure it out but what if its been 9 years and i still dont know#i know. i guess. also i understand why communication courses are required for a degree but i have failed or dropped out every single class#failed interpersonal communication one semester bc i kept fucking forgetting to take the weekly online quiz and never stopped kicking my ow#ass over it ever since#tried retaking it another cemester and stopped showing up half way though bc i couldnt deal with it anymore#tried taking public speaking another and literally panicked and didnt show up anymore after the first week/class#and that was when i was 18-20 like when its okay if you dont really have anything major to share about your life#imagine being 26 having to go up and say something about yourself and its like. ive been a depressed homebody for the past 5+ years idk wha#else to tell you
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had a really really bad day which included me relapsing on cutting myself after i filled out the patient forms but i was too late for the appointment and my mom said she wasnt gonna reschedule it anymore so i did it and then i spiraled about how i never do anything for myself and how i hide behind saying i Cant do something and how im doing myself a disservice by being a MANCHILD!!!!!!
because OBVIOUSLY if i can make this ONE phone call under EXTREME STRESS and WEAR MYSELF OUT COMPLETELY then it means i was always able to make phone calls and i shouldve just pushed myself to insanity the other times too because I NEED TO BE MORE INDEPENDENT EVERYONE TELLS ME I NEED TO BE MORE INDEPENDENT I NEED TO BE BETTER BE BETTER BE BETTER (and thats when i felt so bad about myself i cut myself over being so terrible at living)
not to mention the whole weed thing how ive mentioned several times on this blog about not being able to afford weed but ending up Smoking Anyway and Getting Into Debt because Addiction and basically my sister saying that since SHE was able to stop, my mom and i should be able to stop too and we're just not trying hard enough and we need to help each other and WERE NOT TRYING HARD ENOUGH BECAUSE WE CANT KEEP SPENDING ALL OUR MONEY ON WEED
WE SHOULD BE ABLE TO STOP BUT WE DONT HAVE WILLPOWER and how i mentioned to her i smoke LESS when im not being told STOP SMOKING STOP SMOKING STOP SMOKING!!!!!!! WHY ARE YOU STILL SMOKING????? but it doesnt matter that i have less of an urge to smoke when im NOT constantly being reminded that i have to quit because I HAVE TO QUIT IM A DISGUSTING ADDICT AND IT DOESNT MATTER THAT IM ONLY MORE STRESSED OUT WHEN TOLD TO QUIT BECAUSE IM AN ADDICT!!!!!!
#self harm tw#le p2iigh#btw the yelling is only me yelling at myself shes not mean about it#its just when i told her i want to smoke MORE whenever i feel pressured to quit she was like 'well thats your own problem'#but she still feels the need to constantly talk about how we spend all our momey on weed#AS IF WE DONT KNOW THAT!!!!#and she talks about how she was able to quit and how 'she knows we can quit too and how she thought she couldnt do it'#but like her life is ok right now!!! she has a boyfriend she has a dog sitting job shes going to college to be a teacher#she has her life in order!!!! i have NOTHING going for me right now like i know its all my fault and i DESERVE to be filled with misery#and not to mention the genuine self medication aspects it has for me. like im both addicted to AND self medicating with weed.#but every problem i have in life is obviously my fault and not working hard enough to make my life good.
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im back babyyyyyyyy
#im sure everyone was miserable gan mé féin#were going to pretend thats correct grammar i havent spoken irish in years#lifes been hectic i forgot to sign back in lol#saw poto and les mis in the west end last month#started a performance college thing#might be having lesbian thoughts#my gender and sexuality is somewhere between he/they bisexual and ambiguously lesbian it would appear
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ENHYPEN SFW hyung line fanfic recs!
who am I? im just silent reader who enjoys fics and want to help others find some of my favorites! srry im hee + hoon biased so most are about them
short fic - 1-5k words long fic - 5k+
HYUNG LINE
the look of love by @won4kiss - (how they look at you when they’re blinded by their love) - short fic
low power mode by @sungbeams - (when you get overwhelmed while you're out together) - text msgs
just a bet by @all4yoi - (after a few months of dating, you find out you were just a bet.) - short fic
HEESEUNG
sing me a song by @senascoop - (when you can't fall asleep and heeseung tries to help by singing you a song) - short fic
race to your heart by @coqhee - (lee heeseung who's always been a pro at racing takes on a change of pacing ; racing for your heart.) - long fic
uh oh im falling in love by @won4kiss - (you and heeseung have been rivals for as long as you could remember, constantly competing for the top spot in school—basically everything. living next door to each other only added to the fire, the tension between you, especially when heeseung’s cocky aura never seems to waver. but one single encounter shifts the entire dynamic, leading to confusing emotions arising, jealousy, and new surprising revelations. what happens when rivalry starts to feel like it’s growing into something more?) long fic
a stoner's guide to starbucks by @jayflrt - (in which you work at the starbucks where heeseung is a regular at (and considered a public enemy). also he only goes when he’s stoned off his ass.) - smau series
she knows her sour patch kids by @allforhee - (living under the protective eyes of your older brother, park sunghoon, he thinks he knows you the best. but litte does he know that heeseung knows you love your sour patch kids more than you love his usual swedish fish.) - short fic
win one win me by @jaylver - (who knew being angry and impulsive can get the captain of the hockey team to notice you? cussing them out when they were losing wasn't the best idea, but it definitely made lee heeseung's head turn, leading to him making a deal with you to win a game in order to get your number. but that wasn't enough for him, he was determined to make you his.) - long fic
from screens to scenes by @enreveriee - (you decide to give online dating a shot but have never met your boyfriend in person, nor do you even know what he looks like. when your friends pressure you into finally asking him out for a real-life date, things take a surprising turn. what you expected to be a simple meetup becomes an adventure filled with unexpected twists.) - long fic
taste of life by @mygnolia - (heeseung is invisible to everyone, robbed of recognition as people pass through and never acknowledge him. to live as a shadow who observes is hard—heeseung sinks into corners and simply wishes for a chance to be a part of something. but when you finally come to the biggest halloween party of the year and see him, he can’t help but be attached.) - short fic
bring the heat by @kairoot - (y/n has always disliked heeseung, the arrogant rising star of the racing scene. she especially dislikes him when he beats her brother in the city’s street racing round and takes it upon herself to do a rematch and race him. but when she gets herself stuck in a predicament, her enemy is the only one who can save her. maybe there’s more to heeseung than just his big ego.) - short fic
bjoux by @okikeu - (The fashion industry is difficult, so when the CEO of Korea's finest, luxury fashion brand, Le Désir, loses the most important ambassador of her career, her life is pretty much over. That is, until she finds a face that makes her previous fumble look like a simple marketing scheme.) - smau series
cliches are okay by @chogiwow - short fic
JAY
how you get the girl by @jaylver - (Beach parties are supposedly fun and exciting, aren’t they? Wrong. Experiencing college parties is rare for you, but you decided to give this one a go after your best friend’s constant pleas. Things were alright until everything turned sour when trouble found you and eventually you were roped into a fight alongside the campus’ famous hockey playboy. As if that wasn’t enough, the devil himself conjured up an idea that you found yourself being entangled in. It was all fun and games up until confusion arose, feelings being confessed and played, in the end, Jay had to learn how to get the girl, his girl.) - long fic
white corvette and lipstick by @okwonyo - (waiting for the cab with your boyfriend in the night.) - short fic
pictures enhypen send you of bf!jay by @ddksoo - fake texts
fast forward by @asahicore - (After yet another romantic disappointment in the form of one Jake Sim, you go to the well you’ve always believed to grant wishes and ask for your one and true love to appear. That night, you go to sleep in your bed but wake up in a strange house. When you head downstairs, you find a man washing the dishes and telling you your favorite meal is waiting on the table for you. You’ve spent hours glaring at the back of that head, you could recognize it anywhere—it belongs to none other than Park Jongseong, your high school sworn enemy… and future husband, or so it seems.) - long fic
JAKE
bed chem by @cupidhoons - (your friend sets you up with a cute aussie boy at her party) - short fic
texts with bestfriend!jake by @silquids - text msgs
found you by @whjluv - (jake is very well known and loved by everybody on campus. equally popular was his relationship with the captain of the volleyball team, haneul. even more popular, sadly, is his breakup after more than a year. the months following the event take a significant toll on jake, who becomes unrecognizable. his once sweet, friendly and pure nature is replaced by a constant gloomy and somber aura. what happens when this new version of jake sim unexpectedly clashes with a very straightforward and quite intimidating member of the school’s podcast?) - long fic
SUNGHOON
deep honey by @paarksunghoon - (the last thing you want to do is interrupt sunghoon’s time with his friends, but your doting boyfriend has always said he’ll be there whenever you need him. when a shift at work leaves you hanging by a thread, he and his friends are there to patch your soul back up.) - short fic
cafeteria confessions by @reinahwanggg - (everyone thinks you're dating your childhood best friend sunghoon. well, everyone including sunghoon because he confessed to you almost a year ago and you didn't exactly know it was a confession because of how casually he said it.) - short fic
sunghoon with a crush on you by @woniecore - smau
get well soon by @senascoop - (You’ve always considered yourself a good person—kind, forgiving, and patient. But Sunghoon tested every bit of that. One reckless, drunken drive was all it took for him to flip your life upside down, leaving you temporarily confined to a wheelchair. The inconvenience was more than just physical; it was a wound to your pride and independence. Sunghoon, however, refused to walk away from his mistake. Guilt-ridden and determined to make amends, he became a constant presence in your life—covering your medical bills, offering you emotional support, and sticking around even when you wished he wouldn’t.) - long fic
love on air by @pshbites - (two podcast groups, both equally popular on the internet, start interacting with one another. however it isnt how fans want it to be.. OR yn sees sunghoon hating on lauryn hill and accidentally starts an entire fanwar with him.) - smau series
the 24-hour dating challenge by @jaeyunverse - (being a famous youtuber isn’t easy, especially when you have to constantly come up with new ideas to keep your audience entertained. and this time, your viewers want you to date park sunghoon, your best friend of nearly a decade, for the entirety of 24 hours.) - long fic
#enhypen#enhypen recs#enhypen imagines#enhypen x reader#enhypen hyung#enha#enhypen au#enhypen fake texts#enhypen texts#enhypen scenarios#enhypen x female reader#enhypen smau#enhypen x you#heeseung texts#heeseung x reader#jay texts#jake x reader#jake fake texts#sunghoon fake texts#heeseung x you#heeseung#jay x reader#enhypen jay#enhypen fic#jay enhypen x reader#jake enhypen x reader#jake sim#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon x you#jay fake texts
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💢 At Each Other's Throats 💢
Spencer Reid x female! Reader
For the CM Kink Bingo Challenge 2024
Summary: A previous encounter means that you're not the biggest fan of Spencer Reid, and you go to some extreme lengths to prove that to him.
Warnings: 18+ MINORS DNI, Dom! Spencer, but not exactly sub reader , degradation (use of whore, slut), semi-public foreplay, arguing as foreplay etc, oral sex (m receiving, f mentions, too), face fucking, rimming, nipple play, rough sex/ rough play, spanking, slapping, spitting, choking, messy sex, creampie, multiple orgasms, mentions of painful sex/ pain play etc. some possible CNC triggers/ phrasing.
A/N: I couldn't find a gift of Spencer being bitchy enough, so everyone, please enjoy Kyle Orfman from Life After Beth. This one was a labour of love, if love was actually hate. It's 2am. This is obviously not edited, and may never be.
Masterlist || Bingo Board
You knew from reputation alone that you would have a hard time working with Spencer Reid. Perhaps it was the slew of child prodigy articles that popped up alongside his name. Maybe it was even just your preconceived notion of what men with three PhDs, a badge, and a gun were like. Maybe it was the fact that he'd written to you after one of your first professional articles was published in The American Journal of Forensic Medicine and Pathology and told you a piece you'd worked on for 18 months was just plain wrong.
Either way, you laid eyes on him, and the hatred was cemented. But fuck was he hot.
He had no clue who you were as his boss introduced you to him, looking between the two of you as if expecting good things to happen. You should've warned him.
“Spencer, this is Y/N. She'll be assisting on a few cases from this month onwards.”
His eyes glazed over as he ran your name through whatever roller index of memories he had stored in there.
“Y/N is a lecturer at the University of Virginia. She's going to be lecturing at the FBI Academy from September onwards-”
“You! You wrote an article, I wrote to you about it, did you get my le-”
“Yes, I got your letter. I believe you called my writing ‘juvenile’ and my thinking ‘wishful,’ and that if I had any actual field experience, I'd slowly understand how many mistakes there were in my writing.”
Agent Hotchner took an almost imperceptible deep breath in, trying to hide the fact that this was all new information to him.
“Well, here I am, Doctor Reid.”
The man in front of you gaped for a moment, letting his mouth hang open, closing after a few seconds only to open again. Perhaps you'd disorganized that index of his. You hoped you'd set the goddamn thing alight.
“Shall we get started?”
To say that you'd gotten off to a bad start was an understatement. Your start had been reversed over by a dump truck with no tires. It had been cemented into the ground with no chance of going anywhere but down into the pits of hell.
Which is, coincidentally, where you found yourself every time you had to engage Spencer Reid in conversation.
Your first impression of his looks - his incredibly good looks - was that he was even better looking when he was pensive, and unhappy, and being bitchy. He was positively climbable when argumentative, and you liked nothing more than ruining his day, if just for the fact that he'd angrily loosen his tie and pop open his top buttons, exposing the pale white of his neck, and his sharp collar bones, perfectly ready for someone to suck and nip at.
He was still an ass, however, and you couldn't bring yourself to sink to those depths.
Four cases in, and you hadn't agreed on one thing. You'd caught a serial arsonist, who he had demanded was most likely an office worker, but you'd countered with college student, and you had prevailed there. 1-0.
Then, unfortunately, you'd lost back to back cases with unsubs in the trucking industry, unfamiliar with and uninterested in the life of the Jack Kerouac type.
You'd even the playing field at last with a child abduction. And although you knew you'd both been keeping score, you were so genuinely happy for this case to be over. A child was safe at home, and you'd worked so well under pressure (something he had assured you would change your view of your personal forensic psychology theories). 2-2.
Of course, those were just the big leagues. You'd fought many petty battles, too, as the war waged.
You'd accidentally stolen his place on the jet, enjoying the long bench seat for a good few naps. A few times, he'd settled in next to you, trying to nudge you out of the chair completely, but you'd held your ground.
“This is my seat. Usually. There are like 10 other places on this jet to sit. Why does it have to be here?” He'd grumbled into your ear as you gently elbowed him in the side, accidentally, of course.
“There aren't assigned seats. Maybe you have control issues, Doctor,” you cut back, trying to avoid speaking too loud to avoid the ire of the group.
While you'd enjoyed bickering with - and intellectually besting - Spencer greatly, it did seem that the sentiment wasn't shared by those around you.
“You can't be serious, right now,” Morgan complained from a seat opposite. “You're seriously fighting over a seat, right now?”
“It's my seat, Derek, come on, you know it's my seat.”
The look returned to Spencer almost had you ashamed of your petty actions.
“I swear they're just taking every advantage to get closer and closer together. Next thing you know, she'll be sitting in his lap,” Emily said from the corner of the plane, so obviously not talking to you that you were almost offended.
“Ah, young infatuation,” Rossi replied, still ignoring you.
Reid slinked just slightly away after that, and you weren't sure if you were more annoyed at the comments themselves or the loss of his annoying companionship.
You wanted him to bother you because it meant you'd succeeded in bothering him.
You'd had more than your fair share of rather explosive arguments as well.
“You can't seriously believe that Thomas Edison did more for the field of engineering than Nikola Tesla,” he'd shouted at you at a bar after a case had landed you in paperwork hell, filling out forms and working into the late hours.
A drink had been suggested, a celebration after solving four straight cases in a row, and you'd gladly taken the chance to unwind.
“Spencer, we're literally sat in a bar decorated with multiple light bulbs. Look, there's one. Another! Astounding. Thank you, Mr Edison.”
“And none of it would be possible without Alternating Current, so yes. Thank you, Mr Tesla.”
Your teammates had long since abandoned you to your petty bickering and fighting amongst yourselves. They'd stopped getting involved when Penelope had tried to mediate your discussion about Doctor Who, which had quickly devolved into New Who vs Old Who.
You didn't even care strongly either way, you just cared that he did. And however he felt, you were sure as hell ready to take up arms against him. Because it was so fuckimg hot watching him lose his shit.
You were a grown woman. You could admit that to yourself. You likely wouldn't admit it to anyone else, even if it was as clear as day that you found him unbearable attractive at times. You sure as hell knew that it wasn't a one-way street, from the way his eyes strolled across your body each morning.
You wondered if there was a section of his brain that was dedicated to memorising everything you'd said, done, and worn since he'd met you. You hoped there was.
On your fifth and final case with the BAU team, you felt unmatched in your annoyance.
You were still drawn with Spencer for case breakthroughs, and you felt the need to beat him once again just to nail the point home. He was just stubborn enough to see a 3-2 win as a landslide victory for himself, though you were absolutely going to frame it that way yourself if you managed to be the one to crack everything.
All sense of teamwork and camaraderie was off the table.
You had a murderer to catch.
Three women, beaten, assaulted, and tied up. He'd shorn their hair but bagged them up so they were unseen. Then he'd placed the bags on display. The unsub was caught between two extremes, hatred of his victims, and gentleness, protecting their dignity in death by covering them up.
Obviously, you and Spencer had to decide which side of the debate you were to land on.
“I think we're dealing with a killer without remorse here. It's easier to explain the covering, the dressing of the women as a ritual rather than guilt.”
He'd finally played his cards, and now it was your turn to passionately wipe them from the table.
“Remorse? He's cut all their hair off and beat half of them so badly we needed dental to identify them. And in case you've forgotten Spencer, half of them are prostitutes.”
“You're saying he can't feel remorse for killing prostitutes?”
“That is not what I'm saying. Don't twist my words."
“Well, of you'd said something that wasn't nonsensical, I'd have a better chance of understanding what the hell you're trying to say!’
With every line you'd stepped closer and closer to one another, like two boxers in a ring, sizing each other up before a fight.
You wanted to take his tie and strangle him with it. You wanted to pull him down for a kiss and force him to shut the hell up.
“Reid, Y/N, both of you take five,” Hotch called sternly from the other side of the room. Guiltily, you both broke away from one another, his hand brushing your side as you took a step back, almost as if he'd meant to grab you before Hotch stepped in.
Probably to remove you from the room.
“Take five?” You said, mustering all the disappointment you could as you silently pleaded to stick around.
“Go back to the motel and get some rest. If you're going to argue like this, I don't need you at the precinct, and I certainly don't need you on my team.”
You blanched at that, almost taken aback by the harsh words as you silently nodded and quietly walked towards the door, letting it shut behind you.
Spencer stayed behind, and though you couldn't hear his arguments, you knew he was attempting to reason with Hotch, as well. It evidently didn't work as he stormed out of the room behind you.
He looked half like a kicked puppy, half like an angry school kid who'd just been scolded by a teacher.
“Don't look at me like that, this is your fault,” you muttered as you walked away from the room.
“What? How is this my fault?”
“If you weren't so goddamn infuriating, we'd be able to get some actual work done.”
You marched off in the direction of the exit, but he caught your shoulder before you made it that far.
“You're blaming me? This is my job, Y/N, not yours. You get to go back to a cushy little office after this is done to teach the people that are going to end up doing the paperwork that consists of only 2% of our job.”
His finger jabbed at your shoulder as he said the words, and you had to resist the temptation to grab it.
“Doesn't feel too good to be criticized when you're just doing your job, huh, Spencer?”
His brows knitted together in a deepened scowl and he took a step forward.
But there were eyes on you, and whatever confrontation this was, you didn't want to act it out in front of an office full of cops.
You turned and walked away again, down a seemingly abandoned hall to what looked to be an empty storage cupboard, flinging the light on and waiting the three seconds it took him to catch up with you.
“What's your problem?” He said, joining you in the cramped closet.
“You! You're the problem! You're infuriating, and annoying, and most important, you're you!” You poked his chest back, harder than he had earlier, quietly reveling in the feel of his body under your fingertip.
“Oh, I'm sorry. Would you like me to be someone different? Someone who worships the ground you walk on?” He said, discovering sarcasm for the first time since you'd been introduced.
“Sure, Spencer, if you can take tour head out of your own ass long enough to worship someone else, then be my guest.”
With a single push he crowded you against the wall, a hand above your head locking you into position as his other hand held your hip, his own hips joining you at the wall as you sucked in a breath.
“You're begging to hear praise, right now, Y/N. Do you even hear yourself?” He asked, whispering the words directly into your ear.
“W-Well, you have me pressed up against the wall like some fucking caveman that needs to breed or die.” You spent half the time you were talking trying to compensate for the stutter, trying not to look weak, that you totally missed the words that came from your own mouth.
“You think I want to have sex with you?” He asked, chuckling awkwardly, even as his hand on your hip began rubbing circles, his head hanging lower, just inches away from your mouths meeting.
“I think you'd love nothing more,” you said, finally lifting your hands to his hair and tucking a lock behind his ears. “Such a shame I won't be crawling into your bed.”
“Is that a challenge?” He asked, and you were taken aback for a few seconds.
“You want me so fucking bad, you're trying to convince yoursel-”
With a swoop, he cut you off, his lips meeting yours. You gasped and allowed his tongue to enter your mouth, but you came to your senses quickly. You kissed back with all the anger of the last month and all the attraction that had built up since you'd joined the team. Your tongue fought his, your hands tangled in his hair as his pulled them out, pinning them against a wall. But you slipped free and grabbed him again, grabbing the tie you'd wanted to choke him with earlier and not letting go.
His lips were soft, and his body felt hot pressed against you, and you hated how good he was at all of this, how your body responded to his, how each time you pulled away it was with a small whimper as you begged for more.
“I knew you wanted me,” he said, between kisses, grabbing your face and tilting it up as he returned his tongue to yours.
“Oh, shut the fuck up, you kissed me first.” His hands trailed up your hips, untucking your shirt as he pushed his hand under, his cold fingers sending a trail of goosebumps along your skin as you shuddered.
“I kissed you because you begged me to,” he said, his fingers caressing the bottom of your chest as he tried to press your bra up further.
You were about to argue back when his lips met yours again, and you were lost in the haze of arousal, leg lifting to his hip to better allow him space to settle against you.
You grew wilder in your passion, neither of you giving in even for one second as you writhed against each other, begging for satisfaction while denying that you'd ever wanted each other in the first place. Just as it became unbearable, your hands slipping to his belt, ready to pull his cock free and take it, the door opened again.
“Reid, Y/N,” Morgan said from the doorway as you hastily jumped away from each other.
You pulled your shirt down quickly, and Spencer stepped behind you, covering up the tent in his pants as you stared guiltily up at Derek Morgan.
“Hotch sent me after you to give you the keys to the SUV,” he grumbled, making no comment on anything that happened.
“We were just, um, we were just-” your brain fought for an excuse, but you'd left your brain behind somewhere between joining the BAU and foreplay with Spencer in a closet, so words escaped you.
“You were just making out in a closet. It's okay, we all know,” Derek said, turning to leave.
You jumped up, indignant now he'd brushed you off, and followed him out of the closet, an equally shocked Spencer trailing behind you.
“What do you mean you all know? All know what?” You said, stomping back into the office.
“That you two are into each other. It's why Hotch sent you away earlier. He didn't want to see the two of you going at it,” he said, pressing the car keys into your hands.
“We are not into each other,” Spencer shouted back at Morgan as he stalked off, and you glared at him to shut his mouth. There was a crowd forming, and you still didn't need that attention. Not when your hair was matted from seven minutes in hell with Spencer or when his hand had, once again, settled on your hip, pulling you closer into him.
“Let's go,” you huffed, and finally left the building with Spencer right behind you.
You didn't talk for the rest of the drive home, even as your brain flooded itself with images of him taking you in the back of the car, your lips around his dick as he drove, him pulling over to bend you over the hood.
You went straight to your separate rooms when you got back to the motel, though you swore that the walls were thin enough that he surely heard you pleasure yourself, fingers sinking into yourself. You weren't sure if he, too, had his hand wrapped around his cock, or if your brain was just now imagining whatever it liked to spur you on.
Imagined or real, his moans were delicious, a maddening mix of frustration, exasperation and desperation, whimpers and groans, and small growls until you yourself were cumming, and letting yourself sleep.
You avoided talking, all talking, until the end of the case, even as your head replayed his infuriating words, his moans and the rustling sound of his fingers pressing your shirt up. You refused to talk to him to give his coworkers the validation of arguing with him once more. You weren't into each other.
You simply wanted to fuck him. You didn't like him as a person otherwise.
In avoiding him, though, the small taste of release you'd sampled in the closet had your softer parts deliriously wanting more. As much as you hated Spencer, you needed him so bad.
You'd given him the cold shoulder but he'd returned it just as quickly, and you were more annoyed not talking to him than you weren't.
Your last case wrapped up, and you decided it was time to give him what he so obviously wanted. A conversation.
You sat yourself right back down in his seat as you got on the jet and laid down, pulling his blanket over yourself as you took up the entire space.
The others shook their heads at you as they walked on, Spencer taking up the rear. His eyes met yours, and he scowled, and you couldn't help but wonder if he'd look like that fucking you, so stern and angry.
You sighed and pushed onto your side as he stood over you.
“That's my seat.”
You smiled in success as you looked over your shoulder.
“I'm tired, I'm going to sleep.”
“But that is my seat-”
“Spencer, you've sat on every seat on this damn plane before, that wasn't your seat until last month, now sit down, shut up and let me rest,” JJ exploded and you suddenly felt bad for drawing him into your argument. Or you did until you sat up a bit, and he sat himself right down where your head had been.
“Spencer!”
“I give up…” JJ groaned from the table seats, pulling headphones over her head and shutting her eyes, and the others made to ignore you similarly.
Not one to be beaten, you pushed the book in his hands off his lap and laid your head down again, now cushioned by his legs.
“What-” his voice squeaked as you shut your eyes, too, and made yourself comfortable. He didn't push you off, or, heaven forbid, start talking to you again. Shockingly, he adjusted to the position quickly and resigned himself to pillow duty for the six hour flight.
You, too, shocked yourself by how fast you fell asleep. You woke up with his hands in your hair, stroking your head as he read, book in one hand, you in the other. His hands felt wonderful, raking through your long locks, brushing each errant hair off your face.
“Spencer?” You said, voice still thick with sleep.
His hand shot away, and you almost regretted not pretending to sleep for longer, sure that he'd have gone on if you hadn't said anything.
You straightened and cleared your own throat as you stretched, sitting quietly as you listened to the flight landing announcement.
“Congrats, Y/N, you've successfully finished your time with the BAU,” Rossi said from his seat opposite you, strapping in for the landing.
“And you haven't been shot, kidnapped, or slapped. That's gotta be a first, right?” Emily joked from the corner.
You smiled quietly as you strapped yourself down, scooting even closer to Spencer now to get your belt fastened.
Still, you couldn't resist the urge to mumble a retort.
“I'm sure Spencer thought about it a few times,” you sighed, a breath of resignation releasing from your lips dramatically.
The others chuckled, but Spencer sat silently next to you until the jet landed.
He stayed quiet as he began to pack his things, but it became clear quickly that he was dragging everything out. As the plane emptied, you shot him a curious look, not daring to speak until you were the last two on the plane.
“You're being slow today.”
“I've never thought about shooting you or kidnapping you,” he said, voice low and quiet, even though you were alone.
“It was a joke, Spencer,” you started, so sick of him taking g everything so seriously. You made to walk past him, but as you did, you felt his hand on your waist pulling you back as another hand came hard and fast at your ass.
“I wasn't finished speaking,” he said as his hand ran over your butt, soothing the pain he'd just delivered. “I have thought about slapping you, though.”
With that he grabbed his bag and stalked off the jet, not bothering to cast another look behind him.
Two could play at that game.
In about the most childish was you could muster, you ran ahead of him, staying three paces directly in front of him as he tried to overtake you. You moved when he moved. You sped up when he sped up. You even stopped a few times, so he'd run into you.
“Y/N, cut it out.”
“Make me,” you said, throwing a withering look over your shoulder.
He didn't wither.
Instead, he grabbed your arm and marched you all the way through the FBI building, down to the parking lot, and into your car. As soon as he had you safely in the driver's seat, he closed the door, pulling off your visitors' pass.
“I'll return this for you, no need for you to dally.”
“Fuck you,” you spat out the window as you started the ignition.
“It's been a pleasure,” he said with a grimace.
“No, it hasn't,” you said back, wondering how long you'd spend in jail of you just mowed him down then and there.
“You’re right. It hasn't,” he said, leaning down and into the window so you were now eye to eye.
“Really? It seems like you got a lot of pleasure out of spanking me earlier. You were certainly experiencing a lot of pleasure when you pushed me up against a wall last week. If it wasn't pleasure, there was definitely something long-”
“Long?” He smirked.
“And hard in your pants.”
He leaned in through the window, his breath fanning against your cheeks as he whispered into your ear.
“That was my gun.”
“And I certainly won't be helping you fire a load,” you said, starting the ignition and pushing him back from the window as you drove away from the FBI and away from Spencer Reid.
It infuriated him that you'd gotten the last word. You'd spent a month with him and hadn't even given him a chance to show off his good qualities, and then you'd left without giving him a chance to prove himself.
And, in doing so, you'd told a blatant lie.
There had been two people in that closet, two people with tongues desperate for contact, eager for battle. You'd been moaning just as much as he had when his hands found your nipples.
But you'd gotten to drive away without listening to his retort, and it was killing him.
He sat and seethed at his desk for a while, waiting for the sense of relief that you were gone to wash over him. This had been what he wanted for weeks. Why was he now so discontent? Why did everything feel wrong?
Abandoning paperwork he knew wouldn't be needed until at least next week, Spencer found your address in the team files, wrote it down, and left his desk.
When you got home, there was nothing waiting for you.
It was annoying. You'd spent the last month constantly on the go, always with more work, more cases, more paperwork. You'd killed any apparent gaps with Spencer.
You could still feel his hands on your ass. You hated to admit it, but in your short acquaintance with Doctor Asshat, you'd grown fond of having him around as eye candy. When he wasn't being annoying (talking, breathing, or generally just being), you could quite happily imagine his head buried between your legs, his tongue lapping up every drop of cum you had to offer.
There were definitely better things he could be doing with his mouth, in any case.
Your body felt hot, itchy, and neglected as you got home, running a shower immediately and stepping in.
The water was hot, and the room steamed up faster than you expected. You washed away the fatigue, and you washed away the dirt of a month of cheap motels..
Just as you were about to wash away the memories of Spencer Reid and his stupidly skilful tongue, the doorbell rang.
It wasn't unusual for you to get visitors at 10 pm, but usually they announced themselves.
You stayed put in the shower. It was probably a package you'd ordered, and it could honestly wait.
The ringing, though, didn't stop. Whoever was at your door was insistent. First, the door rang to the rhythm of jingle bells. Then, they moved on to Fur Elise. When they got to Flight of the Bumblebees Levels of bullshit, you couldn't stand it anymore.
You wrapped a towel around you and pulled the door open wide.
“Sp- mm?” You said, shocked to see him there, but completely floored by his appearance, and more importantly the two hands he'd planted on your cheeks as he pulled you in for a hot, hard, and fast kiss.
You pushed him off with a hard slap to his face, and stalked further into your apartment, knowing he'd follow closely behind.
You heard the door slam shut as he made to grab you again, but you stayed just out of reach.
“What the fuck are you doing here?”
“I came because neither of us will move on without this.”
“Oh, you need me so much you won't be able to move on if you don't fuck me?” You scoffed, expecting a sarcastic answer to a sarcastic question.
“Yes,” he said, and your shock at his earnestness gave him the moment he needed to grab at you again.
This time, though, the tiny towel that had been holding your dignity in place dropped to the floor as Spencer Reid pinned you against the wall.
“Already fucking bare and wet for me, how well-behaved.”
“Go fuck yourself!” you said, even as his hands cupped your breasts, grabbing and pulling both of your nipples, making you moan.
“See, your mouth is being a bitch, but your body is being a whore.”
“Just fuck me won't you? No need to run your mouth.”
“I think we're finally in agreement on something,” he said, pushing you to your knees.
“What? Sp-”
In one quick swoop he released his cock from his pants and wrapped a hand around all of your hair as he slid it down your waiting throat.
As much as you protested, your mouth was wide open, and your hands wrapped around him just as eagerly.
Holding your head still, Spencer began to talk as he fucked your throat.
“There we go. That's exactly how I've needed you for the last month.”
You glared at him as you sank your nails into his thighs, gagging on his cock as he picked up his pace.
With two taps on his leg, you requested a moment, and he quickly pulled his dick out of your mouth.
You coughed quickly, then spat out all of your accumulated drool before looking up at him.
Part of you wanted to force him down next to you, to make him taste your cunt the way you'd thought about earlier. The other part, the larger part, was excited about him using you.
He grabbed his dick and slapped your face with it, returning your earlier hit. He was waiting for you to open up again so he could cum down your throat and leave.
“Open,” he demanded.
You didn't comply, but you stuck out your tongue, lapping at his tip slowly as you sat on your hands. He held his breath as you kissed the underside of his shaft, making his way to his balls. You reached them and finally sucked them into your mouth, making sure to look up and make eye contact with him as you toyed with his private place.
He didn't argue or complain. Instead he fisted a hand into your hair and dragged you to your bedroom.
Divesting himself of his pants and shirt, he sat down and, still on all fours, pushed your face back into his crotch. Perched on the edge of your bed, he held his cock up and served himself to you.
“Well? Get back to it, Y/N.”
Your tongue found his cock first as his hands massaged his balls, playing with them gently as you licked all the way to his tip then buried yourself between his asscheeks. You licked at the skin between his ass and balls, you tasted every inch of him, and you grew angry that he still hadn't done this for you.
Against his wished, you rose and spat on his cock, before squeezing it hard.
“Spencer, are you going to fuck me or are you just going to ruin my makeup?”
“You look prettier with spit coating your face than you've looked with any lipstick,” he said as you pushed him down onto the bed and grabbed his cock.
Straddling his waist, you were surprised he.let you sink down onto his cock without so much as another word. You felt him fill you up, one inch, then another until you sat fully sheathed on top of him.
And then he flipped you over so he was back in control.
“Son of a bitch,” you muttered as he pulled out and thrust back in.
“You wanted me to fuck you, I'm fucking you.”
You wanted to argue but all you could do was moan yes as he set a furious pace, thumb and forefinger pinching your clit as you bucked into him wildly.
You couldn't stand too much of this, knowing that you wanted to at least outlast him. You wanted to tell him how pathetic he was for cumming first, you wanted to gloat that he'd wanted you more, that he couldn't resist breeding your hot wet cunt. You knew any more of this, though, and you would instead be on the receiving end of those same taunts.
Pushing against his chest, you used the last of your strength to flip him over again. He struggled, though, stronger than you were expecting, and you rolled together like that for a few moments.
You almost went crashing to the floor as he fought for control, but he pushed a foot off the bed and held you up with his lower body strength. The new position though forced his cock deeper, to just the right angle, and when he thrust into you again, you did something you'd never done before during sex.
You screamed your pleasure.
Your orgasm ripped through you, as painful as it was pleasurable, and you grabbed Spencer Reid by the neck and forced his tongue to meet yours.
He couldn't complain, too busy moaning about your hot, wet, and now tighter cunt to worry about whether he should be kissing you.
He pulled back and picked his pace right back up, but this time, you resisted less. Hooking a hand under your legs, he pressed your legs up, pushing his stomach and chest down just above your own as he moved slower but harder.
You wondered if this was what other wen talked about when they said they wanted someone to beat their pussy up, to use them until they couldn't stand. You didn't think you could even think about walking again for the next month as he spread your knees apart and pinned them to the bed, unloading his cum as deep inside you as anything had ever been.
You didn't even know your body bent that way.
Panting, he collapsed on top of you and buried his head in your shoulder, mumbling and muttering to himself as he came down from his ecstasy.
He didn't pull out. He barely even softened as he kissed across the expanse of your throat, thrusting shallowly with each nip, until your body couldn't take anymore.
He picked a spot and sucked, and licked and bit and soothed as he ended one round, and began another.
“Spencer-” you said, gasping as he sat up, his cock once again standing at attention, filling you still.
“No. Stop. Don't talk, we're not good when we talk.”
You nodded and pulled him back for another kiss, wrapping a hand around his throat and pressing hard as he moaned and groaned into you.
Still wet and slippery and sensitive from your first attempt, neither of you lasted long, falling to the bed when it was all over with a grunt of overexertion.
“That was…” you said, stopping there, for once totally speechless.
“That was good?” He supplied, but just good wasn't enough.
“Yes,” you agreed, though, not willing to let your cunt rule your mind when around him.
Anymore, at least.
“We should… we should probably never speak again,” you said, even as your hand reached out for his, fingers tangling.
“Of course. I'll leave, and we won't ever speak again,” he said, stroking your hand with his thumb, bringing your clasped hands to his mouth and pressing a kiss to your hand.
“You haven't left yet.”
“I haven't.”
“I have nowhere to be tomorrow,” you said. “You don't…”
“I won't leave yet. We might as well enjoy this,” he said, propping himself up on his elbows as he looked over your naked body.
“We should definitely just get this out of our systems now. What's the harm in that?”
“I agree. If we're committing to a one time thing, we might as well go all in.”
“Exactly,” you said.
“Exactly,” he parrotted.
Exactly a year later, the members of the BAU received invitations in the post to your wedding. Because the both of you had convinced yourself that that one time had never ended and never had need to.
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DREAM GIRL — LHS
SYPNOSIS ► being single for too long doesn't suit the playboy lee heeseung of decelis university, especially when he's about to attend his best friend's brother's wedding. but he promised his friends of his promiscuous nature, that he'd stop this when he'll find his dream girl. but what if she's too hard to get and ignorant? lee heeseung is not used to that.
or where, lee heeseung tries to let go of his playboy tendencies to get a hold of his dream girl.
GENRE ► smau (+ written), fake dating, stangers to lovers, non-idol au, college au, crack, fluff, romance, angst, hurt/comfort
WARNINGS ► SLOW UPDATES age gap (heeseung is 1-2 years older than reader), all the characters are in college, cursing, de3th jokes, kys jokes, cheating allegations, alcohol consumptions + more tba
PAIRING + CAST ► playboy! lee heesung x f! reader ++ all of enha, ningning (aespa), haerin and minji (new jeans), kazuha (le sserafim) and other cameos
STATUS ► OH HOLD ( started : 30/04/24 ended : ??/??/?? )
SRU'S NOTE ► all my moots influenced me (fomo) to write a smau tbh 💀 plus these days im not being able to find time to write a fic :(( but i really hope ya'll enjoy this my pooks pls don't let this flop yall TT PLS REBLOG!!
TAGLIST ► OPEN! send an ask/dm me/comment below this post to join the taglist for "dream girl" ! or even better, join my perm taglist (linked in my pinned post!) and never miss out a single work<3
READ MORE ON — CATALOGUE?!
SPAM LIKING = BLOCK! | SPAM REBLOGS/COMMENTS = OK!
PROFILES ! the ultimate rizzlers | it girlz | sssh,, privates!
CHAPTERS !
OO1 : duration of bitchelessness
OO2 : it was a cannon event
OO3 : ???
OO4 : ???
more tba
© bywons, 2024. do not copy, translate or upload any of my works without my permission.
(📌) :: PERM TAGLIST IS OPEN! ( rebloged ) nets! @/k-labels
(🐚) :: DREAM GIRL TAGLIST! (1, 2 is rbed!) @natsukee @sainns @jayhoonvroom @hexoolio @yenqa @autumn583 @oldjws @defnotfertilizedtoesw @eleanorheartschishiya @rosas-in-the-garden @wonifullove @ak-aaa-li @jayujus @wvnkoi @enhacatalog @river-demon-slayer @luv4cheol @stilesks @eneiyri @enhastolemyheart @grah127 @rosie-is-everywhere @jiawji @hizhu @yunjinsbbg @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @winuvs @nicholasluvbot @lhspeachie @wonyofile @rainyjy @pkjay @en-gelic @ckline35 @sophi-ee @rikizm @ahnneyong @suhiiiiiii @blockbusterhee @seunghancore @aileeeeeeeeeeeee @heyniki @myheartfeelsapain @sunghoonsgff @90steele @llvrhee @jadedgem @yeokii @iheartjayke @sumzysworld @enhaz1 @letmein2urheart
(send an ask/dm me/comment under this post to be added)
#enhypen smau#k-labels#heeseung x reader#heeseung fluff#heeseung imagines#heeseung smau#heeseung angst#heeseung oneshots#enhypen scenarios#enhypen x reader#enhypen headcannons#enhypen oneshot#enha fluff#enhypen imagines#enhypen soft hours#enhypen soft thoughts#jungwon x reader#jay x reader#jake x reader#niki x reader#sunoo x reader#sunghoon x reader#sunghoon smau#jungwon smau#niki smau#enha smau#jay smau#jake fluff
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Quid Pro Quo | Michael Gavey x fem!reader
Summary: After being ditched by her friend at the Trinity College Christmas Party, she finds herself enthralled with learning the language of Michael Gavey | Word Count: 3.8k~ | Warnings below the cut!
Part Two: Carpe Diem Part Three: Veni, Vidi, Vici
warnings: virgin michael, semi-public sexual conduct, oral sex (m receiving), heavy petting
If she has to listen to Professor Wardon swoon over Ancient Greek and how it ‘drove him to pursue his dreams in extending his passion to other students’, she thinks she might actually fall asleep.
She's in a good spot to do so, nestled between two other students, the one on her right seemingly just as bored as her, and conveniently hidden behind a tall, lanky first year, who sits straight, with his head perfectly obscuring hers as he fixes his posture regularly.
Several times throughout, she's checked her watch, and yet the second hand never seems to move an inch.
Professor Wardon is just about to go on a lovesick spiel about Homeric Greek when the lecture concludes with a heaved sigh from every student as they sling their hefty bags over their shoulders.
“Remember I want 2,500 words on Les Liaisons dangereuses in my pigeon hole by next Thursday, before your Christmas parties!”
“Oh joy,” she sighs with a grin to the girl walking shoulder to shoulder beside her as they leave, feeling noticeably lighter knowing that that's their last lecture before Christmas break.
“Christ, you're telling me. I can't be arsed to even right my own name at the moment, nevermind read 18th century fucking French.”
She gives a snort in reply, “Merry Christmas to us, eh? Should do what the French do and have a revolution or something.”
“Yeah, eat our lecturers or something.”
“Alright, I wouldn't go that far.”
“Anyway, I'm off to T Library, see ya, have a good Christmas and don't do anything I wouldn't!”
She waves her off as her friend disappears, the cold air of the outside nipping at her skin that manages to sneak beneath her coat.
Oxford University is not what she imagined at all. She came here very much feeling like an outsider, like there'd been some sort of paperwork mistake and it was supposed to be someone else in her place.
The imposter syndrome seemed difficult to shift, but she'd at least managed to make a couple of friends since starting in September.
Languages had always found her well, and seemingly the only thing she managed to actually understand. People were inconsistent, cruel and fickle. Languages, though they shifted and changed, were firmly rooted in reason and understanding.
As sad as it sounded, conjugating verbs, vowel shifts and rare dialects were the one thing she found herself itching to discover more about. The idea that there was more to uncover seemed exciting and scary at the same time.
And Oxford University was the best place she could be to do that.
All that said, her eagerness to get involved with her studies had left her social life with much to be desired.
In the first two weeks of university alone, she'd gained one friend and lost a boyfriend. And while they were drifting apart anyway, it was still a relatively large blow to her self-esteem and her confidence to actually get out there, socialise and make the most of her first year of freedom.
The only friends she'd made were those on her course. Priya, who'd just abandoned her to stick her nose in books about the Great Vowel Shift, and Anya, who…to be honest, rarely left her room. Seeming more like a ghost than anything else.
It was a wonder she was still a student, with how often she missed classes.
What Anya does do best, is manage to somehow rise out of her pit to drag her to Christmas parties that aren't even run by their college.
Which is why she finds herself somehow at Trinity College campus, where she eyes several scantily clad women wearing revealing Santa costumes adorned with itchy tinsel.
Anya is the sort of girl who, well, every girl kind of wants to be. So much so she sort of wonders why she hangs around with her. She's pretty, fit and fucking clever. Her only downfall is her taste in men, so often being Oxford pretty boys.
So it is absolutely no surprise at all, when two jägerbombs in, Anya has somehow slipped into the arms of one aforementioned Oxford pretty boy, seeming in every way a clone of the previous, with the exception of the way he pairs his Ayia Nappa top with his low rise jeans and the only effort to conform to theme, is a pair of plastic reindeer antlers on his head bobbling side to side.
She grimaces as she watches them suck each other's faces off in a dark corner of the room, ‘Stay Another Day’ by East 17 blaring with a cheap crackle through the speakers as she makes her way through the bodies to somewhere quiet.
She sighs, nursing the rum and coke Anya had sloppily poured her in one hand as she closes the door behind her, shutting out the drunken squeals and cheers for the peace of a quiet common room.
It's still decorated, she notes, but empty. Maybe she could lurk here until Anya is done, if she ever will be.
The deep clack of a pool ball being sucked into a socket makes her jump, realising perhaps that she was not actually alone, as she'd previously thought.
The cool light hung above the battered pool table illuminates his deep red jumper, and the first thing she sees is the way he leans on one leg, standing straight as if he was imitating the rigid pool cue leant before him. The yellow lined detailing around the cuffs highlights his small wrists and big hands that stretch from it as he rubs blue chalk onto the tip.
Her eyes trail up the back of his neck, past the lazy waves of dark blonde hair, clearly due a trim at some point, and to his face, even from this angle able to see how his features sit. With a sharp nose and jawline, and black skinny glasses perched above his cheekbones.
She almost laughs at the way he's almost as tall as the light that illuminates the table, half-thinking that she might never have seen such a strange and yet interesting looking guy.
“Didn't fancy the party?” she finally says, alerting him to her presence.
She doesn't quite expect the way the light bounces off his sharp features, sinking his blue eyes in shadow as his head turns to her with an expression of boredom.
“Not particularly, no.”
His voice is lighter than she thought it would be and part of her wonders if he's putting it on. He presses his glasses further up his nose before assessing his next shot, stalking around the table.
“Why's that?”
This time, when he answers, he doesn't look at her. He simply leans down, and aims.
“Not. Fucking. Invited,” he replies bitterly, missing a yellow, “that's why.”
Her fingertips moisten against the glass as the ice begins to melt, but she pays it no mind.
“So you're lurking about in here instead.”
He plays with the cue in one hand, barely sparing a second glance, a bitter, quiet laugh escaping him.
He misses another red before he heaves a sigh, straightening to look at her again.
“You here alone as well?” he asks dispassionately.
She smiles lazily and shrugs.
“My mate is…a bit preoccupied, if you know what I mean,” she replies, taking an awkward sip of the now watered down drink, “like you, I don't really think these are my thing either.”
He seems to consider her statement for a moment.
“Why come then?”
She shrugs again, “trying to be sociable.”
“With those vapid cunts? Good luck getting any intelligent conversation out of them.”
She watches as he picks up the blue chalk again, applying more when he doesn't even need it in sort of a nervous gesture, his blue eyes averted and pretending to assess his next move.
There's something about him. How judgemental he is and how he forms his words. Perhaps she hadn't expected this sort of guy to be so outwardly honest with his opinions, and for the most part, she can't say she disagrees with the message, just the way in which he said it.
“Can I play?” She asks, leaning over to put her drink down.
“What are you reading?” He asks so suddenly, and out of context, that she does a double take.
She raises her eyebrows, smiling, “Does my answer depend on if I get to play or not?”
There's no answer from him. Shocker of the century.
“Modern Languages.”
“Fucking hell,” he groans.
She's a bit too happy and dizzy on rum to get defensive.
“Is that one of those subjects that sounds way less interesting than it actually ends up being?”
She gives a breathy laugh, “just like languages.”
He hums, as if the answer didn't impress him, “more of a science and numbers man myself, obviously.”
For a moment, it's lost on her why it's obvious.
He takes a sip of his, no doubt, stale beer, wetting his lips after, “Your name is?”
She narrows her eyes teasingly, smiling as she leans against the table, “quid pro quo.”
She enjoys the brief confusion on his face, before he realises what she's said.
“Okay, okay, Michael.”
She smiles, “See? You know what that meant. Who says you're not a languages man?”
It's the first time he seems to duck his head, hiding a blush she's barely able to see.
“I don’t think the Ancient Roman idea of fair exchange warrants the title of ‘languages man’.”
The blue chalk comes off on his hands as he fiddles nervously with it.
“So, am I bestowed the privilege of playing?”
He raises his head, and she can tell he's trying his damndest to not let a little beer-induced smile pass his lips.
“I suppose I could allow you to embarrass yourself in front of me for a bit, if you insist. We'll have to share a cue though.”
She doesn't have the heart to tell him her uncle was a pool player, and so by extension, has played pool for most of her upbringing. Rather, he finds out himself when she pots three yellows in a row.
It's either the alcohol or pity that kicks in when she misses the fourth, holding the cue for him to take.
“You being good at pool wasn't on my bingo card,” he mutters with some nervous teasing in his voice.
They go back and forth for a bit, missing some, potting some, with interspersed conversation between.
“Thought you might have been a Norman-no -mates, like me,” he says quietly as he watches her assess her next shot. Bending to aim.
“You're not far off,” she replies, “first fortnight I was down a boyfriend. Since then, I've only been up two friends and one of them is in the other room having ditched me for the shag of a lifetime.”
She doesn't see it until after she takes the shot, the way his eyes flit back to hers quickly as she rights herself to stand.
Was he checking me out?
As if he was lagging, he only laughs now at what she's said.
“What about you?” She asks, “no girls, or boys, on the scene?”
He blushes a lot when she asks that. And she can't help the fluttering in her chest she feels that someone might find her attractive.
“Can’t say there is.”
She stands close, passing the cue to him, electricity warming her fingertips as she grazes his.
“And why not?”
He scoffs bitterly, “have you seen me?” he mutters, wandering around the table, suddenly unable to shake the feeling of her gaze, “Not too many girls out there looking for the stereotypical nerdy math boy, really.”
“Hm,” she hums, “how unfortunate for them.”
He sinks a red, picking at his red jumper.
“Yeah, they're clearly missing out, huh?”
The bitter and self-deprecating tone of his voice makes her heart sink a bit. He's not a bad looking guy, she thinks. His style, glasses, hair, she would almost say look actually quite cute.
Maybe that's the thing he doesn't like.
“No interest? Or is maths the only one for you?”
He misses the next shot and sighs, holding the cue for her to take, “clearly, the only one I need.”
She steps close to retrieve, taking her time, looking up at him as she does. At this proximity, Michael sucks in a breath quietly, his lips, which she can't say she'd noticed until right this moment, parting and his Adam's apple bobbing as his eyes flit rapidly down her.
A warmth swirls in her gut at that.
She circles the table, “what about in the past?”
He leans against the other side, his hand on the cushion, long fingers splayed on the green fabric. She has to shake her head to break her own trance.
“Can’t say my love life has exactly been a roaring success, honestly.”
The way he says it.
She wouldn't be surprised if he was…
Oh.
“So what? You're focussed on your studies?”
She misses. Too set on the conversation rather than the game.
He gives a mirthless laugh, “Sure.”
She rounds the table, holding the cue for him to take, but when he reaches for it, she pulls back with a smirk.
“So we've established you're not one for languages,” she starts, and Michael furrows his brows in confusion, “have you ever really asked for what you want? Ever?”
He seems to miss what she's trying to say.
“Have you been with a girl?”
At that, his eyes widen slightly, a blush crawling up his neck to the tips of his ears, cheeks near matching his shirt.
She knows she has her answer.
“Well…I…no, I haven't…”
At chest height, she can see the way his breathing elevates.
“And, hypothetically, if a girl expressed interest. What would you say?”
His lips part for a good few seconds before he gives a reply, “I’d…I um…I guess it depends who…”
It's like he's afraid she'll make fun of him for it.
“What about, if it was me?” She asks, her voice lowering as she reaches out to pick some lint off his jumper, like it's the most normal thing in the world. His body goes all rigid as she does.
This isn't normal in his world.
Michael swallows thickly, “you're not taking the Mick out of me, are you?”
She shakes her head, “I just want you to feel comfortable asking for what you want.”
For someone who had so often thought about it, now when faced with the situation, he feels as if he doesn't know what to do or say.
She's still stood with the cue in one hand, close enough so that when she shifts her weight from foot to foot, her knee grazes his leg. It's interesting to watch him think so deeply about it. Convinced he's probably never thought of anything so much in his life.
“What if what I want is…you?”
The tension deepens like the tone and volume of his voice. And without effort, a smile finds its way to her face when she looks at his expression. He's frozen stiff, for once, not knowing what to say.
So nothing shocks her more when he grabs the pool cue as a means of pulling her to him, and he has to duck considerably to press his lips clumsily to hers. He's eager, that much is true, but it's clear he's inexperienced. But instead of causing discomfort, she thinks it's quite endearing.
The pool cue clangs to the floor as she braces her hands on his shoulders and chest, guiding his lips with her own in a slower, more careful movement. She feels the edge of the pool table bite into her lower back when he presses her against it, clearly excited, if the hardness that's flush to her stomach is anything to go by.
The hands she had been staring at not half an hour ago are bruising as they trace her waist and hips, with a grip tight enough to tell her exactly how much he's enjoying the experience.
For a moment, they're not in a common room alone, against a pool table, with ‘Cheetah-licious Christmas’ playing in the room over, the bass of which rumbles through the floor and into their chests.
The kiss lasts a long while, and she has a feeling he wants to savour it as if it's the last time he will ever be able to do it.
One of her hands snakes its way to the back of his head, fingers gripping at his hair to pull him closer as either of them tilt to aid more contact between them. And at the little amount of tugging, Michael whines into her mouth, prompting him to pull away.
He looks halfway between mortified and pleased, his glasses having skewed to one side with the eagerness of what they'd done. And she laughs a bit, reaching up to fix them, which seems to make the mortification fade somewhat from his face.
Michael looks down between them, where his obvious erection is pressed to her, and pulls away slightly with a scarlet blush.
“Shit - sorry-”
“It's fine,” she reassures, “no need to be embarrassed.”
The words alone would be enough, if her hand hadn't snaked between their bodies to brush her palm over him. And if it were possible, his flush spreads to his neck, words failing him once more.
Her eyes flicker up to his, their lips all kiss-bruised and swollen.
“If you don't want to-”
“No, no, I want to…” he says, immediately embarrassed about how quick it was.
She smiles, one hand palming him through his jeans and the other trailing up his chest, “Sit down.”
He backs up to sit on a nearby sofa, watching with a kind of adoration as she makes space between his legs, her eyes glimmering at him as she slowly undoes his belt.
“If at any time, you need to stop, tell me.”
He gives a nervous laugh, his stomach muscles tightening, wondering probably if this is really happening to him, “Not sure I will want to…”
She smiles reassuringly, watching as his lips part as she palms him through his boxers, trying to suppress how impressed she is with his size.
It's always the skinny white guys.
“Well, the offer's there.” She smirks, pulling him from his boxers, Michael gives a suffered breath, feeling her touch on him and also her breath so close. He almost feels dizzy. The thought of this happening in this situation, with a party going on next door, is dangerous and exciting in equal measure.
She knows he has very limited experience, so decides not to tease him too much.
Michael gasps softly as she licks at the base of him, drawing a wet line with her tongue along the vein underneath, all the way to the tip. She concentrates her efforts slightly on the sensitive spot there before closing her mouth over the head of his cock, sucking gently.
She feels the way his thighs tense, and the blue disappearing as he closes his eyes. His fists are tight beside him, knuckles white, like he doesn't know if he should touch her or not. All he knows right now is that this feeling is brand new, and the sensation is so much already.
She pulls herself from him to run her tongue over his length, one hand moving to his hand, to encourage him. His blue eyes crack open just a bit, to understand what she's trying to tell him.
And she fights the urge to smile as his longer fingers swipe across her temple into her hair, his touch tender, soft and unsure as he holds her by it.
Her lips wrap around him once more, pushing him further into her mouth, taking him steadily and slowly at first. Michael's hips move barely, chasing the friction that he's getting on his cock when she bobs her head on him and hollows her cheeks.
He watches with parted lips and warm cheeks, moving her hair away so he can watch himself disappear into her mouth over and over. Her hand massages the rest of him, giving him two unique sensations in one, something that earns her a deep, throaty moan.
When her eyes open to look at him, he thinks his heart stops in his chest for a split second. He closes his eyes, not able to bear the way she looks with his cock in her mouth if she looks right at him, feeling that if he did any longer he wouldn't last.
The sounds he emits don't stop there as she increases her pace on him, pressing her tongue to the underside of him and taking him deeper into her throat, humming around him at the heady scent of his skin.
It's only when she takes him as far as he will go, working hard to control her gag reflex that he gives the first genuine buck of his hips, tightening in her hair and a far-too-loud moan. If anyone in the next room were quiet and paying attention, they'd likely know exactly what was going on.
“Fuck-”
It only serves to spur her on as she pulls back, moving in a more steady, quick rhythm, that she is sure Michael is loving judging by the rate of his moans and the way he chokes out his words.
His stomach clenches and unclenches, his high creeping up on him as her mouth tightens around his length.
“Shit - you need to - I'm gonna -” he chokes, weakly tugging her hair in an effort to pull her mouth off him before he cums.
If she didn't have his cock in her mouth she'd smile.
Her hand squeezes the base of him, and Michael throws his head back slightly, a long shuddered and choked moan reverberating through his chest. She swears she feels his thighs shake as she stills, warm ropes of his cum taste musky at the back of her throat.
His loud moan is followed quickly by more softer ones as her throat contracts to swallow as much as she can, briefly increasing the tension and friction around his sensitive length.
When she pulls off him with a pleased sigh, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, Michael sits up slightly, having to gather his breath.
“Fucking hell…”
She takes it as a compliment and rises to her feet, her hands smoothing her skirt back down.
And she squeaks in delight as Michael quickly tucks himself away, barely doing up his jeans buttons before backing her up to the pool table again, kissing her fervently.
“What about you…do I…” he starts when he breaks away, panting softly. She smiles at the notion but shakes her head. This experience was for him alone.
“Not right now, don't feel inclined to,” she reassured, her hands on his chest, feeling the way his heart is beating rapidly beneath it.
“Right now?” he asks with a quiet, unsure tone, “does that mean…there's gonna be a next time?”
His tone is careful, and yet, she is able to detect something like desire there. An excitement for more, without seeming too eager so that he's not let down if she says no. Something that makes it clear he is 100% on board.
She bites back a grin.
“Quid Pro Quo, Michael.”
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→ “long overdue.” || kim jiwon (liz) x reader.
— jiwon reunites with you, her old fling, at her brother’s bachelor party and with the sparks still in the air, you don’t waste any time to get familiar with her once more…
word count: 5.2k.
dynamic: dom!bottom!liz x sub!top!reader.
warnings: age gap (it's not much!), unnie kink, fwb to lovers, nipple play, oral fixation, cunnilingus, fingering, thigh riding, orgasm denial, edging.
a/n: FINALLY! a jiwon fic from moi 😭😭 this was supposed to be posted earlier on valentine's day but alas 💀 i really do wish i could've dropped something for feb 14th but back then i was bitter, lonely, sad, and angry so trying to write something cute and lovey-dovey was just not ideal LMAO but anyways, i hope you guys enjoy this fic 💚 only one more member and i will have officially written a fic for each of the ive unnies! WE CAN DO IT!! 😤✨ also i'm pretty sure i'm missing some warnings/tags but i'm too sleepy to remember them so...
jiwon doesn’t know why she agreed to chaperone her grown brother to his stupid bachelor party. as far as she knew, it was a boy thing. according to her brother, however, she was an exception and so, jiwon finds herself seated at the farthest corner of the bar in what might be the most expensive nightclub she has ever set foot in. she hasn’t even downed her first drink yet—she merely made a tiny tornado with the small umbrella while keeping an eye on her little brother and his ridiculous group of friends.
some of them were familiar to her, some weren’t. and some have repeatedly asked for her number in the past two and a half hours they’ve been in the place. it was after the eleventh time it happened that jiwon decided to go on her lonesome and sat on that one corner of the bar, silently waiting for the little party to end so she could get her nice, long and certainly well-deserved, sleep. jiwon really wished that she came up with some boring excuse to avoid this event. unfortunately, she couldn’t say no to her brother who was so kind to include her!
perhaps he knew that jiwon needed to look at something that wasn’t the view from the big windows of that fancy condominium where she lives. on top of all that, jiwon has been working harder than usual. but that’s only because she quite literally has nothing else to do in her life. all of her friends were busy, she was busy, and it’s not like she can just hit up her coworkers for a quick drink after work when she barely knew them. in hindsight, jiwon sort of needed this!
jiwon raises her glass to her lips, but stops midway when something curious catches her attention. a girl, a bit younger than jiwon herself, confidently marches up towards her brother and does a very familiar handshake with him before hugging him tightly. jiwon watches as the girl and her brother chat a bit. they exchanged a few jokes here and there, the girl hands him a small bag (a gift to his soon-to-be wife, possibly), then her brother whispers in the girl’s ear as he exchanges glances with jiwon, and suddenly both of them were looking at her from across the nightclub.
jiwon nearly drops her glass when she sees the girl’s face clearly. it was you—(y/n) (l/n), her brother’s former roommate and best friend all throughout college! jiwon has met you before! back when her life was a goddamn mess and her entire family thought that you were her brother’s girlfriend. but then it turns out you were more like… his sister from a different family and so that was when you and jiwon started getting to know each other.
perhaps you got to know each other a bit too well… because jiwon remembers all those times when the two of you would hang out in her room for hours and f—
“jiwon-unnie!”
the blonde haired girl springs up from her seat and waved as you squeezed through multiple crowds of people until you got to her. wow, you were beautiful. taller, older, and obviously so much prettier than the last time jiwon saw you.
which was in between her le—
“i missed you so much!” you engulfed jiwon in a crushing bear-hug which she awkwardly returned. “oh wow, unnie, you’re gorgeous! blonde fits you so well.” you were saying as you pulled away, taking in all of jiwon’s features and even threading her soft hair from behind. jiwon got goosebumps under your touch—how the fuck was she supposed to act normal in this situation?
“i am so glad you’re here because as much as i love him, i’m not as much of a boys girl anymore.” you pulled jiwon back to her seat, taking the empty one right beside hers and immediately telling the bartender about your favorite drink. jiwon finds herself completely speechless. literally. you were vibrant, you were chatty, you were so charming—everything jiwon remembers that you were all those years ago.
“mmm. never gets old.” you said after taking the first sip of your drink. you then turned to jiwon who flinched upon making eye contact with you. “what have you been doing these days, unnie? i know you’re like, some kind of big deal at this rich-people company you work for but you know… what else?” you eyed jiwon up and down before smiling at her. not even the darkness and the nearly seizure-inducing lights of the nightclub could hide that familiar glint in your eyes, but jiwon chose to ignore them.
she couldn’t help but glance at how your skirt is hiked up after you’ve put one leg over the other though.
“um, i haven’t been doing much, really. just… work and making sure he doesn’t do anything stupid.” jiwon said, nodding her head to her brother who was pretty buzzed at this time.
you laughed, “you guys never really changed, huh? glad to see it.” you took another sip of your drink.
“only this time i’m helping him with his road to being a husband instead of a project due in thirty minutes.” jiwon shakes her head at the memory, and she likes the way it makes you smile brightly.
“right… and are you still with wonyoung-ssi?” you asked with caution. yet you stared at jiwon as you did so, making sure she sees your ulterior motive through your eyes. jiwon feels herself crumbling under the weight of your stare, as much as she tries to put up a fight of her own.
“no… no, that’s been over for a while now.” it was a good breakup. one that ended with laughter rather than tears and anger. jiwon still talks with wonyoung to this day. why, only a week ago, wonyoung had called jiwon about her brother’s wedding! she expressed her regret about not being able to attend it due to scheduling conflicts—the life of an acclaimed supermodel was busy after all!
you looked significantly happier with the news, now gulping down your drink with a smile on your face. “h-how about you? he never told me what you did after you guys graduated…” jiwon attempts to have some control of the situation—sitting up straight, staring back at you with the same intensity, and all. was she successful? no. jiwon’s blushes as you held your stare with hers, an amused smirk now on your lips before you flipped your hair over your shoulder.
shiiit, jiwon remembers how perfect your neck looks while covered with marks left by her… oh gods, what is wrong with her?!
“well, after college, i did try getting my career started… but that didn’t work out. i ended up going back to my hometown to get back in touch with my heart and all that sentimental bullshit, and it actually worked,” you giggled, your hand brushing across your hair. “i know what i want to do in my life, but for now, i’m just…” you trailed off, raising your drink as well as quirking your eyebrow. “having fun before i can’t.” now your glass is finally empty.
“that’s good. and i’m glad the two of you are still friends. i was worried you’d grow apart.” it always made jiwon smile when she came home after a rough day at her old job and seeing you and her brother in the house, chatting and fooling around as if you weren’t burdened by all your commitments and responsibilities. it had always been refreshing seeing you, and it still is.
you propped your elbow on the table and put your chin on your palm, flashing jiwon a teasing smile, “did you miss me, unnie?”
and just like that, every ounce of confidence jiwon built up evaporates into nothing. she laughs awkwardly, hiding behind her drink, “o-of course! it was weird not seeing you guys together all the time, you know!” another awkward laugh. jiwon felt ridiculous and childish.
“no, unnie,” you moved closer, putting your hand on jiwon’s arm. she turned her head to look at you again and there you were, staring at her with clouded eyes. you then leaned closer and put your other arm behind her, your lips ghosting above her ear. shitshitshit, that’s too close. “did you miss me?”
what happened moments later isn’t exactly what jiwon would say was… a mistake. hell, it was far from it.
being trapped between the door of your hotel room and yourself while getting her neck marked up and her clothes slowly stripped down is the most eventful jiwon’s night has been.
jiwon could feel her brother’s worry all the way from here… well, it’s mainly because she knew that all the buzzing that her phone was doing in her pocket was because of him mass texting her about her whereabouts. she couldn’t be bothered to text him back right now though, not when you were already trailing your hand up her thigh and sliding it underneath her skirt. this felt familiar, and it felt good. feeling you gently rub her wet cunt through her panties felt good, feeling you softly biting on her collarbone felt good, seeing those cute eyes of yours asking for permission while you tugged on her panties felt good.
how long has it been since jiwon felt this kind of rush in her life? too long, she’d say. so why not make the most out of it?
jiwon cups your cheeks and crashes her lips into yours for the first time that night. your lips tasted like blueberries (from whatever you were drinking earlier), and jiwon loved the way you kissed her rather clumsily as if you didn’t expect her to do it first. jiwon couldn’t get enough. she pushes you further inside the room, discarding you of your jacket while doing so. she sits you down on the edge of the bed before separating from your lips and suddenly walking off, leaving you confused and slightly light-headed.
turns out, jiwon only went away to turn the lampshade on, illuminating the room with a warm orange glow before going back to you. she stared you down with hooded eyes, lust replacing the kind look in her irises that you knew and loved, and then she gently grabs your jaw, tilting your head up. you squeezed your thighs together, trying to soothe that ache in your core. god, you missed her.
“make this worth it, (y/n).” jiwon says coldly. even jiwon herself was surprised at her tone, but something in her brain liked how you crumbled under her stare. compared to the timid, nervous jiwon from earlier, bossy and demanding and… kind of harsh jiwon just did something right to you.
“you’ve always been worth it.” you pulled jiwon towards you by her hips, making her sit down on your lap. you feel her brushing your hair with her fingers, allowing you to release the tension on your shoulders and just melt into her. you’ve missed her warmth, and she’s missed yours. jiwon didn’t understand why you left when you did… but that was a question you were going to answer for her later.
much, much later.
jiwon moans softly as you start kissing her neck. your hands get busy with the remaining buttons on her shirt, revealing more of her skin for you to mark up throughout the night. you’ve already left some earlier, and they were starting to show across her chest but that wasn’t enough. you slowly pull off her shirt and let it drop to the ground, then your hands travel lower on jiwon’s body, stopping at the waistband of her skirt.
you were eager to touch her—unzipping her skirt and whining to get her to stand up and let it fall at her feet before you pulled her back into you. jiwon couldn’t help but laugh while you kissed her hungrily, and then she giggled even more when you rolled around and made her lay on her back on the bed.
you pouted cutely as you observed her and her baby pink lingerie, “hmm… were you expecting to sleep with someone in that club, unnie? you looked prepared.”
jiwon thought it was the perfect time to tease such a normally confident girl like you. so she nodded with a shit-eating grin, “the lady bartender was cute actually.” she laughs when you suddenly hop off of her abdomen, choosing to sit on the side of the bed instead. you were taking off your shoes, setting them aside before starting to discard yourself of your jewelry and putting them on the bedside table. jiwon watches you intently, her desire for you only growing by the second.
“come on, get in here already.” jiwon tugged on your sleeve, more than ready to feel your lips on her skin once again. she decided to sit up and help you with your dress though, reaching for the zipper and slowly pulling it down. she didn’t waste the opportunity to leave kisses on the back of your neck, all the way down to the middle of your back, making sure that her lipstick sticks on your skin and smiling satisfied once she sees that it did.
finally, jiwon could see all of you after all these years, and you were just as beautiful as the last time she saw you. jiwon couldn’t resist immediately grabbing your face and kissing you as you climbed into the bed—she longed to feel your skin against hers again and now that you were here, she doesn’t think she ever wants to let you go like she did back then. so, jiwon holds onto you tightly, letting you settle yourself on top of her once again while your hands impatiently explore her perfect body. your hands reach behind jiwon, unclasping her bra and throwing it aside, your hands quickly finding themselves busy fondling her soft breasts.
it was cute to see that you still adored her tits as much as you did back then. you did that thing you always did when you were intimate with jiwon, kissing all over her chest, making sure to cover every inch of skin while still massaging her tits. jiwon caresses your hair as you did your job, laughing softly in an adoring way, her smile only widening when you look up at her with your own grin.
“you’re so pretty, jiwon-unnie.” you gave the older girl one last quick kiss on the lips before leaning down and taking her nipple in your mouth. jiwon gasps at the feeling of your warm tongue slowly swirling around her nipple. it was familiar, like all of the other things you’ve done to her so far, but it also felt new at the same time. because this time, the two of you were much older, and you were doing this purely out of your true feelings for each other rather than a decision made on a whim. jiwon moans loudly when you softly and carefully bite on the hard bud, but she was quick to regain composure when she notices something quite… well, interesting.
jiwon sees how you humped the mattress slightly, trying your best to soothe that buzzing in your core on your own. jiwon decides to swiftly slide her thigh in between your legs and press it against your wet cunt, feeling all satisfied when you whine and start slowly grinding on her thigh for further stimulation. your hand that was pinching her other nipple was now gripping the sheets as you started riding jiwon’s thigh faster, whining even more as you feverishly sucked and nipped on her tit. jiwon grins, loving how she hasn’t lost her special little talent of reducing you to her obedient pet. she starts meeting your little thrusts by raising her thigh—somehow, the sight of you like this had her soaked, but you haven’t noticed at all. you were too busy trying to get yourself off!
you had to let go of jiwon’s nipple eventually, now hugging her close and whining at her chest because you were feeling so good. you’ve started shaking and your moans were shorter and higher—it only meant one thing! jiwon takes a fistful of your hair and pulls your face up to make you look at her, ignoring how you winced at the pain.
“don’t cum.” she says strictly, her grip on your hair tightening by the second the more you thrust into her thigh.
“b-but..! hnng.. i’m s-so close…! so close…” the pout, the tears, that desperate tone in your voice… jiwon almost wanted to fold, but she wasn’t in the mood for that.
“you don’t get to cum before me ever, remember? be good.”
as much as it upset you, you slowly decreased your pace until you were merely sitting on her thigh. jiwon smiles—she was happy to know that she still had some sort of hold over you. she knew she always did! why, you were always clingy towards jiwon whenever her brother invited you over, and that was even before the two of you started sleeping with each other. she always used it to her advantage, mostly in bed, of course. something else jiwon always liked: that pitiful look on your cute face when she denies you of your release. you’d always look so timid after, afraid that if you spoke incorrectly, jiwon might stop the whole thing entirely.
but jiwon was never that cruel. she’d tease you, sure, but she would always make sure to give you what you want. just as long as she gets hers first.
“look,” you watched as jiwon’s hand traveled down from her stomach to her panties. she was drenched; your fault. “do something.” she demands. shit. the dark tone in her voice and the stern look on her face was enough to get you to move lower. you pulled off jiwon’s panties, your heart beating so fast for no goddamn reason. it has been a very long time since you have seen jiwon, let alone like this. acting like this, looking at you like this. it’s got you weak.
you stared at jiwon’s pussy. soaked, tight, perfect, and most importantly, all for you.
“how cute. you’re practically drooling.” jiwon impatiently puts her hand atop your head and brings your face closer to her needy cunt. you hoisted her legs over your shoulder, then you started leaving kisses along her inner thighs—deep and sensual kisses, slow and careful right up until your lips barely ghosted above her pussy. jiwon stares at you with anticipation, you stare back at her; your eyes now dark and hungry. you keep eye contact as you licked up her cunt once, smirking while you felt jiwon’s entire body shiver at the feeling. she pushes your head a little closer, so fucking desperate that you almost wanted to be petty and tease her, but she would probably hit you for that.
and so, you give her what she wants. within seconds of your lips touching her cunt once more, you were practically making out with it. goosebumps appeared along your skin as your tongue slowly got familiar with jiwon’s taste again. it felt right, like the stars have finally realigned themselves after years of floating about the expansive universe, lost. you put your hands to use, spreading her lips apart and pleasuring her clit.
“g-good…! there… mmhn.. (y/n)-ah…!” jiwon grabs a fistful of your hair again, pushing you impossibly closer to her cunt, practically grinding it against your face. you wrap your lips around the sensitive bud, sucking softly and moaning at jiwon’s sheer taste. fuck, it was all too good. you use one hand to grip one of her thighs, sinking your nails down to her skin, and spreading it further so you could have room.
“fuck..! i want to cum, (y/n)… m-more, more..! please…” jiwon’s back arches right as you flick the sensitive bud. you slipped your tongue inside her cunt, making jiwon moan just a tad bit louder than the hotel room walls would recommend her to. the next rooms most likely heard that—good. everyone needs to know how amazing you make her feel. how you’re the only one who can make her feel this way. and everyone’s going to know it again; you used your free hand to rub jiwon’s clit since your tongue was too busy inside her.
normally, this would’ve made jiwon cum. but she was strong this time around. “fucking—god, (y/n)…! more.. more…” jiwon pleads while on the verge of tears. you free her thigh of your grip and hold her hand instead, at least it helped her ground herself at least. the more you used your tongue inside her, the more you felt her clench. her grip gets tighter, both on your hand and on your hair. you briefly glanced upwards and saw her closing her eyes shut—she was close. but you found yourself being torn between letting her reach her climax now, stall a bit longer, or… make her orgasm just a lot stronger.
you pulled out your tongue from her cunt. jiwon hisses and nearly hits you on the head for slowing down and going back to sucking on her clit as you previously did. she glared at you, but was immediately back to being at your mercy when you unexpectedly inserted two of your fingers inside her. god, she was still tight. you stared in awe as you fucked jiwon in an excrutiatingly slow pace, merely watching as her pussy clenches around your digits. you pushed further, now knuckle-deep inside jiwon. you could cum from the sensation of her spongy walls brushing against your fingertips alone but you had to keep her rule in mind.
“m-mouth… use your mouth, (y/n).. ah!” and happily you did! your mouth and fingers worked in unison on jiwon’s pussy—every time you pulled out, you’d suck and lick her clit, the routine now going back to you. you’re remembering all the things she liked done to her, even down to the tiniest details. like eye contact. your eyes fluttered open, peering at jiwon through your fringe. she was already staring at you, her face contorted to show much pleasure you were bringing to her. jiwon has never once tried to conceal her noises and she wasn’t going to ask you to slow down or anything either. you both needed this, and unfortunately for this entire damn hotel, they were going to know just how much.
jiwon loosens her grip on your head once she realizes just how tight she was holding it, now threading your hair and only gently nudging you closer whenever she thinks your mouth isn’t doing enough. you curled your fingers inside her, making her tense up once more and bring her to that familiar edge. “please, please, please…!” jiwon whispers desperately like a prayer with a single tear running down her cheek. you increased your pace and buried your face in her cunt, not caring about making a mess of your face. all you cared about was satisfying your jiwon-unnie, and that you were successful when you brought her to a mind-blanking orgasm with a single flick of your tongue.
a long moan escapes jiwon’s lips as you continue to eat her out through her climax. god, she was delectable. you were determined to not waste a single drop of her cum, lapping her up like a dog and once more relishing at the taste of her juices on your tongue. you pull out your fingers as well, making sure jiwon sees you sucking on it to show her just how much you enjoy how she tastes. jiwon was beyond flustered and she was feeling all sorts of things—overwhelmed, weak, and perhaps most importantly of all, so fucking desperate to make you feel just as good.
you don’t hear her at first. jiwon was speaking in a small voice since she was still weak from everything you did, but you do hear her later on. “come here, baby,” the nickname practically sends you scurrying over on top of her again. jiwon wipes your chin clean with her hand, smiling brightly at you as she pulls you in for a sweet kiss. she can taste herself on your lips and your tongue, and a part of her understands why you’re so addicted. “unnie’s turn, hm?” she whispers against your lips… but her kisses have sent your brain elsewhere, hence your surprised gasp when you felt her gently rub your clit through your panties.
“hah… you’re still super sensitive here?” jiwon asked.
“t-that’s my clit, unnie.. of course, i’m—ahh—sensitive there…” cheeky. even when you’re the one at her mercy now. you pulled your panties off, throwing over to the pile of clothes on the carpeted floor. jiwon was teasing you: tracing your lips with her fingers, barely letting her fingertips touch your entrance, and not even giving your clit the attention it needs now. you whine as you grind down on jiwon’s hand, desperate for more contact but she refuses to touch you.
“aww, what’s with that face?” jiwon coos, laughing slightly. you had a mix of desperation and irritation on your face. it was annoying how she was being annoying, especially at such a crucial time but you knew the exact thing you had to do to get her going.
“unnie. please. i need you…” you pleaded. jiwon leans back on the pillow behind her, finding it so amusing to watch you slowly lose every ounce of self-respect just so you can cum. fuck, if jiwon wanted to be cruel, she could! she could make you beg all night, see those pretty eyes of yours shine with tears as you cry… the sick part of jiwon really wanted it all to come true, but she’s missed you too much to prolong this any further. and so, she pushes your face closer to her by the back of your neck, kissing you passionately just to get you to calm down.
one word jiwon would use to describe how she felt for the events that followed? relieving.
it was relieving to feel your warmth around the three fingers she inserted in your pussy at once, to feel your tongue inside her mouth, to bleed slightly from the way you held onto her arms so tightly, and it was most relieving to hear you say her name so sweetly. you can have such a dirty mouth with so many vulgar words to say, especially from years before when you were younger, but whenever you were with jiwon, you were a different person. jiwon was one of the only people who you allowed to see you like this: soft, weak, and so endearing. it seems like you haven’t changed that aspect about you, and that fact within itself was relieving to jiwon.
“unnie…!” you buried your head on the crook of jiwon’s neck as you felt every inch of her fingers brush against all of your sweet spots. as expected, things were always different when it came to jiwon. being so vulnerable to other people terrified you to the point where it was almost impossible to let your heart open to them, but jiwon made it so simple. but now that you were right here, looking at jiwon and feeling her everywhere, maybe it wasn’t just simply her that made it possible for you to let yourself fall.
wait… fall?
yes. fall. all this time—you’ve fallen for jiwon but too many things made it complicated for you to fully embrace it. but now you are ready.
“i’m so happy, (y/n),” jiwon’s voice felt like a dream. you almost couldn’t hear her properly due to how much her fingers overwhelmed you. the older girl used her free hand to lift your chin, making you look at her, before kissing your lips—it has always been her favorite thing to do. “i’m so happy you came back to me. i don’t know how to express how much i missed you… surely not with words, not even with this…” jiwon plunges her fingers deep, shushing you while you moan loudly. god, she knew you too well. knew which spot to hit to get you to lose your mind, knew the exact words to whisper in your ear when she notices you were slipping away from reality, and knew exactly how to make your heart beat like it never has before.
jiwon pulls her index finger out, now fucking you faster than she ever has with the only fingers she has inside you. “good girl. god, baby… you’re getting me wet again.” jiwon locks one of her legs around yours, keeping you in place. her palm slams against your sensitive clit, bringing tears to your eyes even though you grinded on her hand desperately to feel it over and over again. part of the reason why jiwon always needed to be the one to be fucked first is because you get so tired after your turn that you just pass out, and you never got out of that habit it seems. jiwon sees how the light was escaping your eyes, it was only a matter of time before you were too exhausted to keep yourself awake.
“hm, we have to be careful, huh? can you handle it, love?”
you nodded frantically, afraid that she’d slow down had you answered otherwise, “y-yes..! ahh, yes, i can. i can, unnie.. i can—mmhn..! i can take it…” you started moving your hips, riding jiwon’s fingers just to get closer and closer for that climax you’ve been chasing after the entire night. jiwon was thoroughly amused at how determined you were. normally, you’d give up or tap out if you found it all too much, but jiwon knows you want to be good for her. especially after all this time.
“you’re so cute… but don’t worry, baby,” jiwon places a sweet, deep kiss on your damp forehead. “we have all the time in the world now.”
a curl of her fingers later and you were cumming on jiwon’s hand. the older girl stopped her movements, afraid of overstimulating you. she whispers sweet words into your ears as you let yourself go, at least that's what you think she’s doing. you could barely keep your eyes open, let alone hear. but despite your consciousness slowly slipping away from you, you still felt jiwon gently lay you down on the spot next to her. she holds you close enough that she is within kissing distance.
she was so perfect—how could you have left her?
“unnie…” you tucked a piece of her behind her ear. her laugh makes your ears tingle. you faintly hear her ask if you’re feeling okay, to which you nodded weakly at. you can see her lips move, she was saying a few things, but you can’t hear her over the sound of your heartbeat. you cup her cheek, lean close, and kiss her. maybe it was your favorite thing to do, just like her. and then, words that have always been expected to be unsaid leave your lips. some feelings that have been kept hidden, secrets that you were afraid of letting slip.
“i love you, jiwon-unnie.”
long overdue, sure. even jiwon felt it before you ever said it to her. but she thinks that your bashful smile, the way you shyly looked away from her, and your precious reaction to her saying it back made it all worth the wait.
#ive smut#ive x reader#ive imagines#ive x fem reader#ive scenarios#kim jiwon smut#kim jiwon imagines#kim jiwon x reader#kim jiwon x fem reader#liz x fem reader#liz x reader#liz smut#liz imagines#liz scenarios#girl group smut#girl group x reader#girl group imagines#girl group scenarios#kpop smut
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Double Babysitter - Hozier x fem! reader
Summary: You and Andrew end up with the tough task of babysitting your friend's child together.
Word Count: 6,325
Author’s Note: hi hi hi!!!! this is my first real fanfic, i’ve written little things here or there but this is the only full fic i’ve written. shoutout to the wonderful @deprivedmusicaljunkie for beta reading this, im so grateful for u! this is based on the Bluey episode Double Babysitter, it's not required watching but if you want to watch it to understand the fic better you can. i hope you enjoy!!!
ALSO: I do not know Hozier in real life, nor do i claim to. This is a fictionalized (ish) version of him. All other characters featured are fictional. Now, enjoy!
fic under the cut <3
Andrew was always vaguely aware of the fact that he was getting older. He had spotted the occasional gray patch in his stubble, noticed a faint wrinkle somewhere on his face. He even felt his back ache every now and again, but he had always brushed it off.
It wasn't until he had been asked by an old friend from college to babysit his daughter that he can say he actually felt old.
Of course, he wasn't complaining. He had met the young girl only a few times, but to say she held a special place in his heart would be an understatement. He had just finished up the last leg of his tour, so he had all the time in the world back at home. And he did owe Liam and Quinn, her parents, a favor. They deserved to have a night out just the two of them; watching their daughter was the least he could do.
He took this responsibility very seriously. He was even on time, arriving at 6pm on the dot, as instructed (given, it was only because he told himself he had to be there at 5:30).
He walked up to their doorstep, gave their door a few light knocks, and stepped back. It took a moment, but he could hear his friend’s voice call for Quinn through the door before watching it unlock. Liam opened the door with a puzzled expression that had Andrew wondering if he somehow showed up on the wrong day.
“Andrew, you're here… on time? Are you feeling okay?”
“Ha ha, very funny.” He replied sarcastically, accompanied by an eye roll. They greeted each other, Liam widened the door, and Andrew stepped inside.
“Honey, the babysitter’s here!” Liam shouted up the staircase. Quinn quickly emerged with open arms and gave Andrew a quick squeeze once she reached the bottom of the stairs.
“Andrew! It's great to see you. How long has it been?” She asked.
“About… six months, I’d say. The week before I left for the States.”
“That's much too long. We need to actually go out sometime soon.”
They spent a few minutes standing around and catching up, swapping stories about their jobs (including a concert story or two). It gave Andrew a moment to appreciate these smaller, mundane moments that seemed to slowly be becoming a rarity. He was mid-sentence when he was caught off guard by the pitter-patter of small footsteps rushing towards him.
“Uncle Andy!” He glanced down, finding a little girl already latched on to his leg; Katie, the reason he’d been asked to babysit. He reached down to pat her head, ruffling the little one’s hair.
“Hey there, lass! How are you?”
A muffled noise that sounded something like ‘I’m good’ came from the girl as she buried her face in his leg.
His sentence was cut off at the sound of another knock at the door.
“That's odd. I don't think I’m expecting anyone-” Quinn started, interrupted by Liam opening the door to find you standing on their front step. You didn’t even notice the surprised looks on everyone’s faces as you entered, blindsided by your excitement.
“Hey,” you said, giving Liam a side hug before moving on to Quinn and doing the same. Katie let go of Andrew’s leg and rushed over to you, joyfully screaming your name. A wide grin grew on your face at the sight of her, and Andrew couldn’t help but notice how beautiful your smile was. He immediately snapped himself out of it once he realized he had no idea who you were, let alone what you were even doing here.
“Hi, Katie Cat!” you exclaimed. He watched as you pulled her into an embrace, not noticing his presence until you pulled away. You looked up at him, your gaze meeting his, smile fading in awe.
“Y/N, this is my Uncle Andy,” Katie explained as she held on to your hand, quickly dragging you towards him until there was maybe a foot between you two before pointing upwards. A thought flashed across Andrew’s mind: Is this five-year-old playing matchmaker?
“Hi.”
“Hi.”
“Have you met my friend Andrew before?” Liam asked.
“You do seem familiar. Didn’t you get drunk and sing Take Me To Church at the wedding?”
“Probably.”
“Oh my god, Y/N, I am so sorry. I think I double-booked myself and accidentally asked both of you to watch Katie,” Quinn admitted. “Again, so sorry. My head’s been all over the place today.”
“It’s alright. He got here first. I’ll just go, then. Leave you to it,” you decided, admittedly a little disappointed but understanding the whole scenario. You took a step back, turning to go before a small hand grabbed yours, stopping you in your tracks.
“Don't go! You can both stay.” Katie begged, puppy dog eyes in full effect. It's like she knew exactly how to tug on your heartstrings, because after that you were willing to stay for as long as she wanted. But you still needed permission.
“I mean, as long as it's okay with… Uncle Andy.”
Andrew gave you a nod, perhaps a bit too quickly. He couldn't tell if it was because he already knew he was going to need help with this, or because he simply wanted to be in your company. Either way, both were true.
“Two babysitters it is.” He conceded.
“Hooray!” She yelled, latching herself onto your leg as she had done to Andrew's just moments before. You looked down at her, a warm smile returning to your face, before looking back up at him. All three of you could tell this was going to be… an interesting night, to say the least.
Before they left, Liam and Quinn had given you two very lenient instructions. All you had to do was put Katie to bed by 8:30 and watch the house until they got home around 10. Everything else was fair game. Easy enough of a job for two grown adults. However, the way that your night started at their kitchen table made you wonder if perhaps their rules were too permissive.
You were sat across from each other, you and Andrew on the same side, Katie on the other. It oddly felt like you were being interrogated by this small child. Which, after offering a game of 20 questions so you could get to know each other better, wasn't exactly far off from reality.
“Why do I feel like she's going to ask me why I was at the scene of the crime?” he asked you in a whisper, leaning towards you. Andrew swore he could feel his heart skip a beat as you chuckled at his remark, and he was relieved as you revealed you felt the same.
“The real question is, is she Good Cop or Bad Cop?” You replied in the same hushed tone.
“Oh, bad cop. I’ve done this with her before, and when she wants to know something she’ll badger you until she gets an answer.”
“Perfect. She can be my lawyer in about twenty years.”
That elicited a laugh out of Andrew, a small chuckle that caught Katie’s attention.
“What's funny?” She asked, genuinely feeling like she missed out on your conversation.
“It's nothing.” You changed the subject to convince her it was inconsequential. “Why don't we get started? Ask us anything,” you instructed, regretting the words as soon as they left your mouth, mostly because of the next words that came out of Katie’s.
“Why don't you have a wife?” She turned to Andrew, whose mouth was now agape. Your own eyes had widened, shocked by the boldness of her first question before remembering she is a little girl that hadn't yet developed a filter.
“You haven't seen me in a while. How do you know I don't?” He retorted, a lazy attempt at deflecting the question.
“Do you have a wife?”
“Well, no…”
“Then why don't you have a wife?”
“Ehm… I think it's her turn.” He tilted his head in your direction. Katie agreed with a nod and thought for a beat. Once she formulated her question, her attention turned to you.
"How many friends do you have?”
“God, I don't know… four? Five?”
“That's not a lot. Why do you only have five friends?”
“Good question… back to him!”
Katie turned.
“How come I don’t see you often?”
“Because usually I’m on tour.”
“Is that why you don’t have a wife?”
“Huh. Maybe.”
“Do you want to get married?”
“Yes,” you both said. You exchanged a glance, surprised you both had the same answer. The girl across the table was oblivious to this small moment you shared, and immediately went back to her questioning.
“Will Tommy be the husband?” Katie leaned across the table, an excited gleam in her eye.
Tommy. Your ex. Last time Katie had seen you, you two were in love, almost madly. However, a lot can happen in four months, and you found yourself having to explain a breakup (a particularly messy one, at that) to this naive girl. You let out a sigh.
“No. Me and Thomas… we aren't really friends anymore”
“But you said he was your true love.”
“Not anymore! Next question. Please.”
“True love is forever. Is true love not forever?”
“It is! It is.”
“Then how come you and Tommy aren't friends?”
“Well, Tommy — Thomas,” you corrected yourself before continuing, your words stunted, “and I weren't as good together as we thought. It took longer than it should've to realize, but we couldn't work. Kind of like when you’re doing a puzzle, and it looks like two pieces fit, but when you try to put them together, they don't.”
It was like you could watch the gears turn in Katie’s little head; she was trying as hard as she could to imagine your comparison. Meanwhile, Andrew was watching you as you thought, mentally praising you for not only putting into words something obviously painful for you, but explaining in terms a kid could understand. Despite the supposed ‘way with words’ he had, he knew it would take him several tries and multiple rough drafts to do the same. He let you continue, his eyes never leaving your face.
“It’s just sometimes, you think someone is your true love, when actually they’re not. Sometimes some things aren't meant to be. And that’s okay. No matter how sad it makes the both of you afterwards, or how upset you get…”
Your sentence trailed off, your throat closing up with that all-too-familiar feeling you recognized immediately. All of this had happened months ago; the breakup between you and Thomas had devastated you of course, but you had recovered. But having to explain the complicated events between you two in such a straightforward way, to put all the emotions you felt into simple terms, made it all seem real. And it only made those feelings resurface.
Andrew could tell something was off. He, of course, had no idea about this past relationship, and frankly, it was none of his business. What was his business, however, was how you looked like you were about to cry, how he could see the tears in your eyes welling up. He wasn't about to let you shed a tear over this. So, he attempted a diversion.
“Alright, I think we're done playing 20 questions. How about a movie?” He stood up, a feigned smile on his face. Your eyes lit up at his suggestion and you stood up after him, following suit.
“You know what? Good idea. Katie, why don’t you go find something to watch with Andrew and I’ll make popcorn, get some snacks ready?”
For a moment you worried she wouldn’t comply and more innocently personal questions would be coming your way. However, Katie didn't seem to mind this interjection, immediately agreeing and hurrying over to the living room to find the TV remote.
You both watched as she scurried away before looking back at each other eyes meeting for the first time that night. A few seconds were spent just staring into his eyes, noticing how very green they were. This captivation distracted you from the awkward silence that filled the air between you. You broke eye contact first, stepping around your chair and pushing it in. You walked into the kitchen, the footsteps you heard behind you letting you know he followed you. You didn't speak until you knew Katie would be out of earshot.
“Thank you,” you said sincerely.
“No problem. I completely get it.”
“Jesus, my first babysitting gig and I almost cried. At this rate, I’ll have to go back to selling lemonade to make ends meet.”
He let out a laugh, and the sight of it made a smile tug at the corner of your lips, though you couldn't shake the feeling you looked a bit… pathetic.
“ You probably think I’m a loser, huh?”
“No! No, absolutely not. Love, breakups, endings … dealing with that stuff isn't easy. If I thought it was, I wouldn't write songs on the matter for a living. Having to explain it to a kid without crushing her dreams is even harder. If anything, I commend you for it.”
For a reason you couldn't immediately explain, his praise actually managed lighten your mood, to the point where you had to suppress the urge to grin from ear to ear.
“What is it?” Andrew asked, as if to tell you your smile hadn't gone unnoticed.
“That was… just really nice of you to say.”
“I mean, it's true.”
The room filled with silence for a moment before you broke it.
“Do you think we could just forget that the whole thing ever happened and get on with the night?”
“Absolutely. It's forgotten,” he agreed, borderline erasing it from his memory as soon as you asked. His attention shifted as he yelled into the other room.
“Katie, have you ever seen The Princess Bride?”
Andrew went off into the living room, following Katie, and a smile grew on your face as you looked through the pantry for microwave popcorn.
It took a solid ten minutes of searching due to the plethora of streaming services Liam and Quinn had, but you finally found The Princess Bride. Katie brought down some blankets from her room in the meantime. Given, because they came from a six-year-old’s bedroom, they were patterned with Disney characters and unicorns, but they were comfortable all the same. You sat on opposite sides of the couch, a bowl of popcorn equidistant between the both of you, and for a reason only her little brain could rationalize, Katie was sitting on the floor.
You looked at the screen in awe like it was your first time watching, when in actuality you’d seen the movie more times than you could count. You mouthed the words of the most famous lines, almost subconsciously, as to not disturb the little one’s first viewing experience. Of course, you also snuck a few glances at Andrew when the screen held less of your attention. Okay, maybe more than a few glances. It was the first time that night you both could actually relax, and you took the moment to size him up. His hair, which was up in a man-bun at the beginning of the night, had since been let down, brown curls now loosely framing his face. He wore a white sweatshirt and black jeans. On his feet were white Converse that were clearly well-loved, to say the least. Despite how casual it all was, he really pulled it off. It almost made you wish you could raid his closet, see what other unexpectedly stylish clothes he had in his possession, maybe steal a sweater on the way out.
Oddly enough, it felt natural, being this comfortable on opposite sides of the couch with a man that might as well be a stranger. It’s almost like you wouldn’t mind if this was your house, your television, your kid-
You were snapped out of your thoughts by the clapping you heard from Katie’s spot on the floor as the credits rolled.
“So what did you think?” Andrew asked. Katie’s gaze broke from the screen to look at him.
“I wanna watch it again!”
“You can watch it again another time with mum and dad.”
“I want to watch it now!”
“Katie, the movie’s over, and it's 8 at night. Get upstairs, put on your pajamas, and brush your teeth.” He scolded as he got up from his spot on the couch. He bent down, resting his hands on his knees.
“I said I wanna watch it again!”
“It's getting late, you have to get ready for-”
“Again! Again! Again!” She stomped. You knew she was bound to have a tantrum any second now. Something that, judging by the concerned on his face, Andrew had no idea how to handle. It seemed like it was your turn to come to the rescue.
You got up from your seat, walking over to Andrew to stand by his side (figuratively and literally).
“Could you help me out here?” He asked, his frustration with her slowly growing.
“Watch and learn.”
You turned to Katie and crouched down to be on her level.
“Do you want to play a game?”
She didn't give a verbal answer, but based on her frown immediately disappearing and her head nodding so rapidly you thought it might fall off, you could assume what she would say. You thought for a moment before continuing.
“All you have to do to play is go upstairs and do everything you would usually do right before you go to bed. I’m going to set a timer, and if you’ve done everything and you're in bed before the timer, you win. Got the rules?”
“Yep!” She squeaked, her excitement evident.
“Alright. Ready… set… go!”
She quickly ran out of the living room and up the stairs, leaving the two of you left stunned for a moment. You both got up from your crouching, and you craned your neck upward to be met with, to your surprise, a look of amazement from Andrew.
“I swear, you must be magic.”
You deflected his praise almost immediately.
“Please, I’m not even close to being magic. I just know that kids will do anything if you turn it into a game.”
“Which is a level of sorcery that I can only wish to achieve!”
“If we end up babysitting again, you can always become my apprentice.”
“Offering a second date already?”
You knew he was teasing, but the romantic suggestion was enough to make your heart pound in your chest. You responded the only way you knew how.
“Shut up…”
You bantered and talked, taking advantage of the very little time you had to try and get to know each other (past the deep secrets you already knew from Katie’s questions). Your conversation immediately felt as if you knew each other for years, not hours. There was almost a click to it; the back and forth between the two of you happened easily, naturally. But, like all things, it couldn't last forever. After about ten minutes, a small voice yelled from up the stairs:
“I’m done!”
“We’ve been summoned.” Andrew stated.
He started walking towards the staircase, and nodded his head to tell you to come along. You caught up to him with no hesitation.
Andrew opened the door to Katie’s room and took a look around. It was as messy as one expects a five-year-old’s bedroom to be. Toys, anything from fake jewelry to Barbies, were scattered across the floor. Her drawings, mostly scribbles of rainbows and cartoons and her family, hung on her wall. Stuffed animals and fuzzy blankets were contained in a chest in the foot of her bed. After a moment, he held the door wider, giving you room to walk inside. You thanked him and walked over to the side of Katies bed. A bit unsure of what to do, Andrew stood behind you as you talked to Katie.
It was as messy as one expects a five-year-old’s bedroom to be. Toys, anything from fake jewelry
“Hey, you tricked me!”
“Yeah, I did. But now that you're all ready for bed and tucked in, aren't you tired?”
“I guess,” she started, a yawn interrupting her thought, “I am.”
“Then it's time for you to go to bed. Good night Katie Cat.”
You leaned in to place a kiss on her forehead before Katie let out a yelp.
“Wait! I can’t go to bed yet. I need a story.” She whined. “Mum and dad tell me a story every night before bed. I can't sleep without it.”
“What do you want it to be about?”
“Can it be about a princess? Like the movie?”
“Sure. Well, there was-”
“It needs to start with ‘once upon a time’.”
“Does it really have to?”
“Yes.”
“Alright then,” you conceded, knowing as much as you wanted to protest, she wouldn't let it go.“Once upon a time, there was a princess… that was trapped in a tower… guarded by a dragon.”
“Wow, that’s never been done before,” you heard him whisper behind you. You looked over your shoulder and shot him a small look of disapproval.
“Well, to her it's original. Just go with it,” you chided before continuing.
“As I was saying, there was a princess trapped in a tower. And there was a prince,” you turned behind you again, mouthing ‘that's you’ to the man behind you, “that was trying to rescue her.”
“Can I be the dragon?” Katie asked eagerly.
“Whatever you want, dear.” You replied, giving her approval. Katie let out a roar and, shockingly, Andrew got into character, already miming holding a sword and shield.
“Hello, Ms. Dragon. Listen, I have to slay you. I’m not happy about it either. It's the only way to save the princess.”
He gave you a quick glance, one you would've missed if you had blinked in the wrong moment. He returned his focus to ‘the dragon’.
“I usually am a pacifist, so I truly hate to do this, but I must…”
He faked a lunge towards her and began to tickle her, making both of them double over in laughter. You attempted to engrave the memory into your mind in fear that you would never experience a moment as heartwarming as this one again. He gave up after thirty seconds, standing up again.
“And just like that, the dragon was defeated!” You announced.
“Now the princess needs to marry the prince!” Katie yelled, almost commanded.
“What?” Andrew asked, more confused than opposed. Katie only gave him a disapproving look, which was enough to make him comply.
He knelt down on one knee and scoured the ground for something that had caught his eye before: a toy ring. He snatched it off her messy floor and held it towards you in an extended hand.
“Princess, I have rescued you from the dragon. Now, should you say yes, I would like to have you as my wife.”
This wasn't necessarily the most romantic moment of your life, but for some reason, it definitely made the list. A fact that was a bit pitiful, sure, but still very true. Which was exactly why you- technically, the princess- needed to take the story in an alternate direction. It was a personal way to protect your ego.
“And the princess said… no thanks.” Surely that would save your self-esteem from his imaginary judgment. To your surprise, it did the opposite. His brows furrowed in confusion, and his smile dropped.
“What? Why wouldn't the princess want to marry the prince?” He asked, trying to give you a look as if to tell you to just go with it. You, of course, got the message, but decided to lean more into your own narrative.
“She didn’t like the look of him.” Lie. But one that kept the girl entertained, her laughs growing louder.
“Why not?” Andrew couldn’t help but feel just a little offended, even though he knew everything you were saying was intended lightheartedly, the real purpose being to entertain the girl.
“Well, he was a bit lanky, for starts.”
“That’s not exactly something the prince can control. You have to cut him some slack there.”
“And his hair was better than hers! It was beautiful. All long and curly and fluffy. The princess simply wasn’t having it.”
“Wait, you think my hair is-.”
“And to top it all off, he was tall! Very tall. She’d have to go on her tiptoes just to kiss him, which, honestly Katie, gets very inconvenient.”
Andrew was about to counter, the words on the tip of his tongue, but stopped himself upon hearing the fits of giggles escaping Katie. He decided to let the moment be, taking in both your and Katie’s smiles from this new perspective.
You turned, your face showing your feigned contemplation. For a brief moment, you enjoyed the fact this might be the only time you'll be taller than him. A sigh escaped your lips and your eyes rolled, but you couldn't hide the smile on your face.
“I guess the princess could try and give the prince a chance.”
He looked back up at you, giving you a sheepish grin.
“I’ll take that as a yes.”
He took your hand and carefully placed the ring on your finger, as gentle as he would be if it was made of diamond and not plastic. His calloused fingers wrapped around your hand, undoubtedly hardened by all the guitar he’d played over the years. The feeling of his hands on yours, him looking up at you, the way his eyes were staring into yours with such admiration, it all almost felt like a real proposal. Not one that came after slaying a dragon, but after years of knowing and loving each other. One that came before celebratory kisses and preparing for a wedding. One that made your heart stir and your mind wander, only stopped when you heard him mutter something.
“You kinda have to finish the story.”
Right. The story. His words snapped you out of your deep thought, and you blinked a few times as you focused back on reality and not what you’d made up in your head about the man you'd only known for about two hours. The gorgeous, tall, kind, funny man you had only known for two hours. You cleared your throat.
“So, the princess finally said yes to him. And then they got married and they all lived happily ever after!”
You took a bow, as if you had just finished up a broadway worthy performance. Andrew, however, stayed in his spot on the floor still kneeling, something you only noticed when you looked up to smile at him to find empty space where you expected his head to be. You looked down at him and whispered.
“You can get up now, you know.”
“Oh. Right.”
He got up and did his own small bow before making an announcement.
“Alright, story’s over. Time to go to sleep.”
Though she had enjoyed it, by the end of your story (performance?) Katie's eyes were already drooping, so she had no more hostility towards going to bed. You walked over and stood on the left side of her bed, Andrew on the right.
“Goodnight, Katie-Cat. Sweet dreams.” You said softly before placing a small kiss on her forehead. He quickly did the same, placing a kiss on her forehead as well.
“Goodnight, Katie. Sleep well.”
He paused for a moment before adding on something you hadn't expected.
“I love you.”
As if your heart couldn't melt any more.
“Love you too, Uncle Andy.” She mumbled before making herself comfortable, snuggling up under her blanket; it was almost a signal for you to leave the room. You both obeyed, walking towards her door frame. You flipped the light switch, leaving the room in darkness, and closed her door behind you both.
You hated to admit it, but a smile grew on both of your faces.
Unsure of how to celebrate (a handshake was too formal, a high-five was too loud), after an awkward rotation of gestures, you settled on a fist bump.
Does fist-bumping a man ten minutes after calling his hair beautiful count as mixed signals?
“We did it!” You whisper-shouted after your small celebration. Andrew's tone mirrored yours as he spoke.
“Jesus, is this what being a parent feels like?”
“I hope not. No offense to you, but I’m miserable.”
“Oh no, the pounding headache’s got to you too?”
“That and the back pain from all the crouching over.”
“At times I could feel my hair turning gray.”
“What I’m hearing is that you could also go for a cup of tea right about now.”
“That's exactly correct. However, this isn't our house, which means it's not our place to make tea.”
“It can be if you give me two minutes.”
You shot Quinn a quick text to ask.
hey. is it alright if me and andrew make some tea? I know you said we could do whatever but i feel bad if you're not home.
It took a minute, but Quinn replied.
i trust you both so much i’d let you cook a three-course meal without me home. go ahead and brew your tea.
“Well, we’ve got Quinn’s approval.”
You showed him the text, and he let out a soft chuckle, nodding. You both headed down the stairs as quickly (and quietly) as possible.
You returned to the kitchen and began to look for teabags while Andrew looked for a kettle. You didn’t dare to make a mess, so you both just closed and opened drawers until you found exactly what you needed. He filled the kettle and placed it on the stove while you made the hard decision between chamomile and earl grey; you immediately made your decision when he made a comment about chamomile being his favorite.
You leaned on opposite sides of the counter, the stove between the two of you. After a minute you fell into a silence that was comfortable, but unwanted. It was the first time that night you had the freedom of being alone now that Katie was fast asleep, yet you had no idea what to do with yourselves. Biting at your lower lip, you thought of something to say.
“Hey, we did a pretty good job being her court jesters for the night.” You finally commented. Andrew nodded his head before jokingly correcting your statement.
“More accurately, we did a good job being her prince and princess.”
“Almost made me think I should’ve pursued a career in acting.”
“You have to give some credit to your co-star here, as well.”
“Oh, absolutely. Oscar-winning performance. I appreciate you incorporating props, as well.”
“One of the greatest improv moments of my career.”
“I had no idea I was in the presence of such a legend. ” You said barely, being able to hold back your laughter. Your conversation fell back into a now-familiar rhythm. The topics started anywhere from how you knew Quinn to how much you both loved Katie, but as you went on you diverted to your favorite movies snd Andrew’s interest in classical literature. The only interruption was the whistle of the kettle, which you had almost forgotten about. Andrew took it upon himself to prepare the tea, even after you insisted that you would take over. Instead, you actually took in the kitchen, finding something unexpected on the counter.
You were both surprised that Liam and Quinn actually owned a radio.
“Do you mind if I put on some music?” He asked.
“Not at all.” You stepped to the side, giving him permission to turn the radio on.
He twisted the knob of the radio, searching for a station for a moment before stopping. He landed on a station playing jazz, turning up the volume as he recognized the tune: A Kiss To Build A Dream On by Louis Armstrong. Instinctively, he tapped his foot to the beat.
You both stood in silence, one that almost drowned out the song playing. This silence was just strong enough for you to formulate an idea. You liked this song, you were bored, and most importantly, you wanted to be close to him. So you decided to take a risk. You extended a hand in his direction.
“Care for a dance?”
It took him a moment to process your question out of shock. After a few seconds, he stuttered out his answer, his gaze shifting to your hand.
“I- No, I couldn't. I have two left feet. I’d probably be… stepping on your toes the entire time.”
You shrugged.
“Who cares? It's just us, and I’m not gonna judge you.” You reassured him, motioning for him to join you.
Andrew was quickly learning he couldn't say no to you.
He gave in, taking one of your hands in his and placing the other one on your waist. At first, you awkwardly kept your distance between each other, like two teens during a slow song at their school dance. However, you got more into a rhythm as time went on, eventually getting comfortable enough with him to rest your head on his chest, as close as you could get to his shoulder with his height. Andrew was hoping you were more focused on dancing so you couldn’t feel his heart beat out of his chest. He kept his promise of stepping on your toes, mumbling a “Sorry!” every time he did so. He wasn't as bad as he made himself out to be. He even tried to spin you by the second chorus, almost crashing you into him, but helping you regain your balance. Laughter was your only response to any of this.
Much to the dismay of you both, the song ended, and you pulled away from each other. You missed his touch, your hand buzzing from the sudden change. Another song began to play from the radio: I’m In The Mood For Love by Julie London. Christ, it was like the universe was sending you a sign. Everything else throughout the night had all led up to this.
You could barely process what was happening when Andrew placed his lips on yours.
The kiss was small and chaste, cautious in case you didn't reciprocate. It was so sudden that you forgot to kiss him back, just absorbing the moment that you had slowly been longing for more and more throughout the night. When he pulled away, all he saw was the astonishment and shock on your face. He didn't notice how your gaze was fixated on his lips, and instead frantically began to apologize.
“Shit, I misread you, didn't I? I’m so sorry, I apologize. You have every reason to be upset with me.”
His suggestion made you laugh.
“Are you kidding me? That's all I've wanted all night.”
You saw something change in his demeanor, and he let out a sigh of relief.
“It's alright if I kiss you again, then?”
“Yes! Yes. Please do.”
As soon as you gave him permission, he placed his hands on the sides of your face and pulled you close to him.
Another thing about the universe is that not only does it send signs, it tends to have impeccable timing; just as Andrew leaned in to kiss you again, you heard the front door unlock. Quinn’s voice rang through the hallway.
“Hey, I don't know if you got my text, but there wasn't that much traffic so we got home… Oh. I see we're interrupting something.
You both let go of each other, a look of guilt like you’d been caught doing something illegal. Thankfully, Quinn was no cop.
“I’m not mad or anything. Just happy you waited until Katie was asleep to start swapping spit.”
You both thanked her, ignoring a passing comment she made about how she “always did think you’d be good for each other”. You said your goodbyes, hugging Liam and Quinn with smiles and faces that were still flushed from earlier. You waved them a final goodbye and walked out onto the patio together, Andrew holding the door for you again. You were alone together again.
“So, do you think we could pick up from where we left off before?” You asked a mischievous glint in your eye.
“I thought you'd never ask.”
He finally leaned down to kiss you again, holding your face gently. This time, you reciprocated, placing your hand on the nape of his neck to keep him as close as possible. It was slow, as if both of you decided to take your time; a gentle precursor for all the kisses to come in the future. Your hands made their way into his hair, his making their way to your waist. You stay like that for what could have been forever for all that you care, but's only a minute.You both pulled away to get some air, small pants escaping your mouths. Andrew looked down at you with wonder, a smile growing on his face.
“You really are magic.” He mumbled.
“Still not magic. Just… me.” You deflected again.
“Is there a difference?” He asked rhetorically. He let out a sigh before speaking again.
“ Y/N… God, I feel like a teenager saying this, but… would you want to go on a date sometime? A proper one, with no babysitting or playing pretend. Just me and you and staring at a painting or a sunset or each other's faces.” He rambled, taking a deep breath. “Whatever you want.”
Letting out a laugh, you replied.
“I would love to.”
You gave him a kiss on the cheek.
“Good night, Andrew."
“Good night, Y/N.”
Andrew gave you one last peck on the lips before you, unfortunately, went your separate ways for the night. Walking back to your car, you also couldn’t help but feel like a teenager, but because he made you so… giddy, so willing to start something new with him. You could barely keep down the butterflies in your stomach. All of this caused by coincidence, a bit of fate, and a babysitting gig. Not how you thought the night was going to go, but perhaps the most pleasant surprise you’d ever had.
You got into your car, and tuned the radio to the same station as before. All the songs remind you of him.
You had the stupidest smile on your face the entire drive home.
#hozier#andrew hozier byrne#hozier x reader#andrew hozier byrne x reader#hozier fanfiction#hozier fanfic#writing#fanfic#writeblr#writers on tumblr
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milf (teaser!!) - Jeon Jungkook
🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨
🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪
(pics. from pinterest but I made the banner myself)
pairing: hot neighbor!nonidol Jungkook x female milf reader
genre: smut, one-shot, age gap (32 and 24) hot neighbor
summary: You and your husband Hoseok have a 6 year-old. You want your marriage with Hoseok to work out but he’s making it difficult. Even throughout these hard times you would not change your life for the world. Well.. what happens when you find out you have a new neighbor but to your surprise he was truly the hottest man you have ever seen.
warnings: cursing, cheating, smut, not much aftercare :/ (tbh jk can’t rlly shower her with love because they choose to have sex at the worst times so he just cleans her quickly sorryyy), breast play, riding (car sex), ass slapping (light), unprotected sex (please use protection), kind of mean dom! jk, sub!reader, bj, doggy style (hitting from the back), slightly possessive jk? dirty talk, age gap, breeding, mention of pregnancy (reader does not get pregnant), pet names, hair tugging, use of (slut, whore, etc.)
ft: le sserafim's Yun-jin (she's aged up to 32) & BTS J-hope (he’s aged up to 33)
Milf -Jjk
🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨
“Have you seen him?!” your best friend Yunjin shouts in your ear while pushing her cart. You two were out grocery shopping while the kids were in school. Yunjin decided to join since she was off of work.
Yunjin and you have been best friends from 2nd grade up until college and after that. You guys met your husbands in college, but Yunjin got divorced last year. Yunjin got pregnant around the same time as you and moved next door. You couldn’t be happier. Her son and your son are best friends I know it’s cliche but whatever. Apparently, we have a new neighbor and according to her he is very attractive. Piercings, tattoos, muscles, he has a motorcycle, can cook, etc. he has it all. She caught a glimpse of him when she came to pick up her son Chul from his playdate with Eun-Woo and she won’t stop drooling over him.
"No actually I haven't. I have been so busy with Eun-Woo starting school I haven't even introduced myself." you say scrunching your eyebrows still recovering by Yunjin's shouting. You weren't very convinced that your new neighbor was as hot as Yunjin was making it seem. "And let me remind you I'm married remember?" you announce as you show her your hand wiggling the finger that the diamond sat on.
Yunjin rolled her eyes lightly smacking your hand away. "Right, I forgot... whatever, this guy has the moms all over him. They are going after him like he's some piece of meat." Yunjin pouts wishing she got some time alone to talk to Jungkook. "And you aren't going after him... for his meat?" She side eyes you while you're looking for cereal. "I'm telling you ___ he's exactly your type and if you don't believe me just introduce yourself besides its the friendly neighbor thing to do." she said as she had a small smile on her face.
"I don't know Yunjin maybe if I get the time I can meet your next husband" you whisper to her as you both laugh.
ˏˋ°•*⁀➷
You get home and place your bags down in the kitchen. You look up and see the time on the stove. 1:00pm… you still had an hour and forty minutes until Eun-Woo got out of school. You hear light talking coming from down the hall so Hoseok must be home in his office. You don't even bother telling him you are home because he hasn't been paying attention to you anyway.
Yunjin was right it wouldn't hurt to greet your new neighbor. The last thing you want is to seem rude and be the only one who has not introduced yourself to him. So, you made chocolate chip cookies since it would be wrong to go empty handed. You walked towards Jungkook’s house with the container in your hand slightly nervous.
You lifted your fist ready to knock but the door swung open before you could. "Hi l'm-oh" Your eyes slightly widened as you looked up at him. He towered over you wearing a white fitted short sleeve shirt which exposed his arm tattoos and muscles. He had black fluffy hair and a lip piercing. You could see the outline of his abs through the shirt and his big doe eyes were so pretty looking down at you.
“Hey…” he spoke with a small smirk plastered on his face. You were not being very discreet when checking him out. It’s not like he was hiding the way he was looking at your boobs either. “Oh Hi... I’m sorry I just.. um I wanted to introduce myself I live right across from you I’m ___. I made you these.” You say softly while sticking out the container. He smiled at you looking at the container then back at you. His smile is so nice holy fuck. “Thank you so much. My hands are dirty so I can't grab the container. Would you mind coming in?” he asked. You shouldn’t, you know you shouldn't go in it's clear that he thinks you're attractive and well you think he is too.. it's just wrong. “Sure.”
“Great thank you. You can put the cookies on the counter I’m going to wash my hands.” he told you letting you walk in first. His place was organized it was way different than you expected. He walked over to his sink and started washing his hands. His hands are even attractive what the fuck.
Yunjin was right... he's exactly your type. shit…
“Why are your hands so dirty.” you ask trying to make small talk. He looks up at you for a moment then nods his head to the direction of the window. You see the black motorcycle with his initials written on the side in a small cursive font. “I’m fixing it. Somethings wrong with the pipe.” Wiping his hands on a small cloth... he still had something black smeared on his jaw and a little on his arm, but you didn't say anything. He walked over to you and stood quiet for a bit.
“Are you doing anything today?” He questioned analyzing your face. You tried to look somewhere else. You didn’t want to make eye contact with him feeling nervous under his gaze. “I have to pick up my son Eun-Woo from school in forty minutes and cook” you admit.
“Oh, you’re a mom huh.” he’s not really asking its more of a statement. The look on his face shockingly does not show any signs of disappointment. “Do you have a husband? I haven’t seen him with you.” he pushes.
“Yea I do. We just… we aren’t going through the best time right now that's all. It happens to a lot of people though.” you tell him trying to reassure yourself realizing you overshared god you hate when you do that. “Hmm… I don’t know how he does it I wouldn’t be able to stay away from you.” he admits playing with a strand of your hair and using his hand to tilt your jaw up. You two look at each other and you know what you are going to do next is wrong, but you can’t help it. His lips crash onto yours and you grab at his arm. The kiss turns into a heated make out session running your hands through his hair. You hesitate for a moment wondering if you should take it further. You start unbuckling his belt slightly pulling his pants down.
"Is this, okay?" you ask pulling away from his lips as he tries leaning forward to kiss you again. "Yes, shit" he answers before reattaching his lips to yours as you softly palm him through his boxers. You push his chest slightly and get on your knee's looking up at him through your lashes. He threw his head back mouth slightly open and his eyes closed. His face alone has you wet.
🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪🍨🍪
jazi’s note: hii omg I’m so excited to release this fic I’ve had the idea for a while, but I recently realized that I want to put it out. Sorry, if it is not the best it is my first time writing a fic so, please be patient with my writing journey. I hope to put out more fics and I want them to get better as I go. Reposts, likes, comments, & follows are well appreciated love you all hope you have an amazing day!! :)
(Also, I can start a taglist if anyone is interested?! If you would like to be tagged, send an ask and lmk!! & if anyone decides to use the banner, please give me credit!!🤍)
taglist for ‘Milf’ is closed
#jungkook smut#jungkook x reader#jk smut#bts jk#jungkook fanfic#jk fanfic#jungkook bts#bts#bts smut#jk x reader#jeon jungkook#jungkook hard hours#jungkook drabble#jungkook x oc#bangtan smut#jungkook jeon#jungkook imagine#bts imagines#jeon jk#jungkook seven
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starting to think im a bard of void instead of being a knowledge class. i have the whole bardic crisis thing (oct 13 2013. sunday) the whole opposite aspect thing before that (Gifted Kid TM where part of my personality was bring smart. is very lightcore) and just how i seem to destroy everything i touch.
my aversion to lying and how terrible i am at it because its on a physical level in my body and i have to script it in advance (yes this is mostly autism) and not liking to keep secrets and being a blabbermouth. destroying void.
destroyed by void. getting FADED with weed. self isolation and most of my time being spent gaming or on the computer/phone. my awful terrible recurring dreams (dreams are void) that i have a fucking tag for. but the horrors have become almost mundane with how repetitive they are in my dreams and thats why i dont call them nightmares
#le p2iigh#the 'this classpect perfectly describes all my flaws' type of classpecter#no but my dreams are always like. im in school and i dont know why they wont let me drop out.#dont know if its college or What. but sometimes my former therapist is there. the one i had a crush on.#thats a thing i have with male mentor/teacher figures because of a Very Specifc Reason#other things that are always in my dreams. my dorm on the 3rd floor im always trying to figure out what clothes to wear whats clean#packing so i can go to the house that im living at that is specifically not home. wondering when i can go home to check on the cats#wondering why home looks so different its almost unrecognizable. my uncle is there. always. mom always has something Wrong with her#things being on fire near wherever im staying like next door across the street. most recently like the whole neighborhood.#not beating the doom player allegations with these descriptions.#heres more void coded things abt the dreams. being in/around bodies of water. theres one particular river i go to a lot its past some woods#the woods area separates the river and i walk upstream until i come across the widest part and the initial fork#theres always various Creatures in the water that im scared of.#this happens whenever im on the coast and in the ocean too. except sometimes theres stuff that wants to eat me#and thats not counting the kinnie dreams. either its ocean stuff that reminds me of being link.#or its like. i guess side order levels or something. and also more cursed than usual salmon run. on cursed stages. eels chasing me#(obvoiusly the agent 8 kinnie dreams)#my real life anxieties about the cat litter and taking a shower meaning i dream about having to do those things.#trying to find a place to lie down and sleep that feels comfortable for me but its impossible#thats. most of the recurring things in my dreams. my brain is tired and i interrupted myself doing Tasks for this.#i didnt expect to ramble about the recurring nature of all of these dream things. and obviously the tag is going here#adventures in losap#< the dream tag
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have no fear
jordan nobbs x reader, leah williamson x reader, arsenal x reader
part 2 of beautiful girl series -> pt. 1 -> pt.3
warnings: drug addiction, drug use, angst, pain, mentions of sexual assault, little bit of fluff if you look really close
So with every last piece of strength that you had in your body, you pulled the door open.
“Hey chicky.”
You tried to smile at your ma, you did, but it was hard.
“Hey ma.”
You knew you had to look like a wreck, you hadn’t had time to look in a mirror on your way down, but you knew that you must look like a complete mess.
Jordan brought you into a hug before you could do anything about it her little arms squeezing your body as tightly as you thought she could manage.
She forced her way into the house before you could say anything about it, walking her way into the kitchen and leaving you close the door behind her.
“Le said you were out last night.”
You followed your ma into the kitchen, walking straight to the coffee pot.
“You want coffe?”
Jordan had always been the stricter of your two parents, probably because she saw you less, Leah was the one who had to do the hard yards, constantly fighting with you over the biggest and smallest things.
“Tea please, how late where you out till, who were you with?”
You turned the machine on, trying to hide your annoyance at the immediate interrogation.
“Did you come here to see me or question my choices?”
You pulled two mugs from the shelf, reaching for the kettle and pouring enough water in before reaching for a tea bag.
“I came here to see you chicky, and catch up with you, I want to hear about what’s been going on.”
You dropped the tea bag into the cup, reaching across the island to hand it to your ma.
“I was out with a few friends.”
You pulled your vape out of your pocket, hoping that it would help to soothe the insistent memory of the events of last night and push it from the forefront of your mind.
“What’s that?”
You looked up at Jordan curiously, one of your own eyebrows raising.
“What’s what?”
You looked back at the coffee machine, watching as your mug slowly began to fill up with the brown mixture.
“Since when do you vape?”
You pulled your mug out from the machine, setting down on the island so you were facing your ma.
“A couple of months, why?”
You reached for the sugar container, taking the spoon out of it and dropping two spoonfuls in.
“Does your mother know?”
The shock in Jordan’s voice was so obvious.
“Yup.”
It was all good and well for Jordan to judge Leah’s decisions with parenting you, but at the end of day she’d been the one to leave, refusing to take you with her, insisting that life in London was better for you and that passing you back and forth between Birmingham and London every week wouldn’t be fair, she left you.
“How’s football been?”
The pivot in conversation should have helped, but you knew that it wouldn’t as soon as the words had left her mouth.
“I stopped playing.”
Jordan frowned at you.
“Since when?”
You brought the coffee up to your lips, finding solace in the warm liquid.
“A while ago.”
You wished she’d drop the topic, she seemed to be becoming more disappointed by the minute.
“Why, you were great, you were one of the best a the academy.”
You were one of the best because Leah spent all of her afternoons coaching you, because she knew the coaches, because she knew what she had to do to make you better, not because you were naturally gifted or because it came easy to you.
“I didn’t want to.”
You ried to answer her with some finality, to make her drop it and move on.
“How about school, how are your gcse’s going?”
You wanted to lie to her and tell her it was good, that you were on track to get all A stars like you’d planned.
“I don’t think I’m going to do them, my attendance isn’t high enough.”
Jordan’s face plummeted, her jaw going slack as she looked at you.
“What? I thought you wanted to go to college, that you were planning on doing medicine or law or english lit.”
You hated that Jordan had this preconceived version of you in her head, from when she left, from when she used to travel every weekend to see you, when you were doing everything to try and be the perfect kid for the both of them.
“Plans change.”
You kept your eyes downcast, scared to look at her and absorb the disappointment.
“What do you plan to do, without an education and your football? Do you plan to just live with your mother forever? Do you plan to use her until she’s old and retired? You can’t just live your life like that chicky, you need a goal, a aspiration, something you want to do with your life.”
It was the same conversation Leah had tried to have with you, one you’d ignored.
“I know ma.”
Jordan looked at you with disapproval.
“It doesn’t seem like you do, what are your plans, what are you spending all of your time doing?”
Getting high, crying, regretting your existence.
“I don’t know Ma, look, you don’t get to come here for the first time in a month and try to act like you give a shit about what’s going on, Mom’s been through it and I’ve been trying to support her, I’ll figure it all out later.”
Jordan looked dismayed, to say the least, her finger twirling the teabag inside of her cup aimlessly.
“Lovey, your mom is in a lot of pain right now, she doesn’t deserve to be taken advantage of, I understand you might be going through your own pain but it’d be nice if you could try and be a bit better for her.”
You wanted to yell at jordan, tell her that you were hardly the fucking problem, but you couldn’t, not when everything that had happened in the last 24 hours was circulating non stop in your mind.
“Look, I understand that I’m not the kid you wanted, that I stopped playing football and I’m not doing what you wanted me to.”
Jordan stopped you before you could say much more.
“No it’s just that months ago you were fit, you were reading and writing and playing football, you were smiling and spending all of your spare time with your mom and now it’s like all of that’s changed and you’ve just become this person I don’t know anymore. Can you blame me for being surprised? This isn’t you, This isn’t my kid, this just isn’t you, chicky.”
You couldn’t look at Jordan, you just couldn’t.
“You have no fucking idea what’s going on, you’re never here, the only time you give a fuck about my life is when it’s convenient for you and when you get to judge it. I’m not your kid anymore, you don’t fucking love me, you haven’t wanted me for a long time.”
Jordan recoiled at your words.
“First of all, don’t swear at me, I hope you don’t talk to your mother that way. Secondly, that’s not true and not fair. I’m here as often as I can be. I love you chick, I just think you could be making better decisions. Where were you last night?”
You rolled your eyes, you felt frantic, you could feel your heart beating in your ear and the blood pumping through your veins.
“That’s such bullshit. Trips to Spain to see Lucy are more important then me, huh? Trips to Ibiza to hang out with Caitlin and Katie are more important than me? You criticise the decisions mom has made but you aren’t here, you don’t understand what it’s like.”
Your hands were shaking so badly you had to put your coffee down, the liquid having spilt slightly down onto the countertop.
“Where were you last night, lovey?”
The question made you feel like you needed to puke, and for a second you thought it was just a feeling, but then you felt the bile rising and you realised it wasn’t just a feeling, you were about to vomit.
You rushed from the kitchen as quickly as your weary body would allow, your legs shaking underneath you, threatening to give out, taunting you from below.
You made it to the toilet bowl just in time for your jaw to go slack and the bile that had been rising in your throat to splat against the porcelain. You didn’t look at it, you couldn’t, knowing that it was probably evidence of what had happened last night, the alcohol, him.
You didn’t need to see Jordan to know she was waiting at the door behind you. It was the last way you wanted to spend your couple of hours with her, but it didn’t really matter now you supposed.
You knew you were done when the pressure in your throat dissipated and you finally felt like you could breathe again. You pushed yourself up, flushing the toilet before turning around to look at Jordan.
Your Ma reached out for you first, her hand coming up to your face, gently pressing onto your cheek.
“It’s alright bubba, I’m here, you’re okay, I’m sorry.”
Jordan’s arms opened up and without hesitation you leaned in, seeking out comfort that you hadn’t felt in a long time. The hug didn’t provide the love you were yearning for, it didn’t soothe the part of you that was hurting, but it did patch a hole inside of you somewhere.
You were far taller than Jordan, but she somehow made you feel like a little kid again, your head coming to rest down on her shoulder.
“C’mon, let’s get you to the couch and we’ll talk, huh, one on one, no judgement.”
You felt eight again as Jordan lead you over to the same couch. You felt how you did when you were eight, when your moms sat you down and promised you that they would always be a safe space for you, that you could tell them anything about the past and they wouldn’t judge you and that they’d always be proud of you no matter what, you felt how you did at 12 when your moms sat you down to let you know that the academy had asked them if you wanted to play with them, you felt how you did at 14 when your moms sat you down to let you know that your teacher wanted to put you up a form at school. Except everything was different, it wasn’t your moms, there was nothing to be proud of, nothing for them to tell you you were doing good at.
Jordan sat you down, your head pressed to her shoulder.
“I’m sorry that I was rough on you, okay? I don’t know what’s going on, I’m not here as much as I should be. Can you tell me about last night, bubba, please?”
You didn’t get why she cared so much, your mom hardly cared what you did on your nights out as long as you were home by your curfew and stayed safe.
“I went to a party, okay? It’s no big deal.”
You heard Jordan exhale next to you.
“You didn’t do anything stupid?”
You wondered what Jordan would define as stupid.
“I drank a little, smoked a bit of pot, normal teenage shit.”
You wanted it to be the truth, desperately, but it wasn’t.
“That’s it?”
Jordan knew you were lying, she’d always been better at telling, Leah on the other hand wasn’t as practised in being able to detect when lies were falling freely from your lips.
“Yes, for fucks sakes.”
Jordan only tightened her embrace around you, bringing her as close to you as possible. Leah had stopped hugging you like this when she’d done her knee, it had become harder and she knew you were growing up, she didn’t think you needed her in that way anymore, she was so incredibly wrong.
“Okay, I’m sorry chicky, I’ll stop with the questions. Let’s just have a you and me day, huh? Like we used to. We can go to the cafe that you like and down to the beach, whatever you want, just a you and me day.”
You didn’t want any of that.
“Can’t we just stay on the couch.”
You heard jordan chuckle a little bit.
“How about we go and get breakfast and then we can have a movie day, or we can catch up on the episodes of Love Island, I haven’t gotten to watching the new season yet.”
You didn’t want to go anywhere, you wanted to stay in your safe space, up in your room on your windowsill.
“Do we have to.”
Jordan nodded from above you.
“Fresh air will be good for you. Plus, you want to get a mean hangover then that’s your own fault chicky, it’s best to learn the hard way. Head upstairs and get changed, I need to talk to your mom real quick.”
You wanted to stick around to hear what Jordan planned to tell your mom, but you didn’t want to wreck whatever you had going with her, so you just nodded your head and stood up, beginning the walk back up to your room.
You hated looking at yourself in the mirror.
Because you could act like you were fine, you could pretend you were put together and had your life together and fool yourself but as soon as you were forced to look at yourself it all was clear. There was truth in your eyes and the way they made your body look so vacant, so eerie, it was as if they were the sign that there was no life left inside of you.
You’d always felt out of place no matter where you were, like you never truly belonged. You’d always felt like you were one of those tragic people with no storyline, so you lived watching other people, living through them. To start with it had been your moms, watching how much they loved each other, how they looked at each other, how they spoe about each other, like you were a background character in their story. It worked for a long time, until it didn’t. Until they split up, until you were forced to heal all over again from the home that was breaking around you. All the things you’d been running from before them were back, and instead of feeling like you were safe you knew you weren’t, you knew that no matter how loved you’d felt for the longest time, you weren’;t anymore, you didn’t get to live vicariously through their love.
You scrubbed your face without any real care, scrubbing the makeup, mascara and tears from last night off of your face.
Once you were content that the were physically gone, even if it mentally didn’t feel that way, you stood up from the basin and dried your face, hoping the patting would somehow strip the pain that was painted across your skin, it didn’t.
You moved to your wardrobe next, picking out a pair of sweatpants and a hoodie, as well as your thickest winter jacket. It was the same thing you wore every time your mom forced you out of the house to go on some stupid errand with her or some random appointment. You picked out a comfy enough pair of trainers before pushing your hair into a bun and walking back down the stairs.
Your Ma was talking hushedly into her phone, and put it down as soon as she spotted you descending the stairs.
“Ready to go?”
You nodded, one of your eyebrows up in questioning as you stared at your Ma’s phone.
“I was just checking in with your mom, she says they should be back around lunch time.”
Then Jordan would leave, like she always did.
“I’m not a chore, if you don’t want to hangout with me then you don’t have to be here, I can be left alone for a couple of hours.”
Jordan exhaled, deep enough for a few seconds to linger.
“That’s not fair, I’m here kiddo, I want to spend some time with you.”
You pulled your vape out of your pocket, Jordan could tell when you were lying and you could tell when she was.
“No, you have to spend time with me until mom is back, there is a difference.”
In the beginning, Jordan would come down every weekend, no matter where her game was, just to spend time with her little chicky, as the months and year had passed though, her time with you had become shorter and shorter until you’d only see her if she had a game in London.
“I don’t care, I get it, you’re busy with your new life, it’s whatever. Let’s just get this over and done with.”
Jordan looked like she wanted to say something, but the frown you sent her must have been enough of a silencer.
The two of you walked out the front door silent, down the street silent, all the way to the cafe, completely silent, the only sound to be heard was the cars going by, the sounds of your breathing and the repetitive puff of your lips as you pressed the vape to your lips. If you couldn’t have drugs then it was going to have to do.
When you got to the cafe you had enough courtesy to shove it in your pocket, focusing your attention on your Ma as much as you hated it.
She ordered you your normal, you were surprised she remembered.
“How’d the game go last night?”
You hadn’t tuned into either games, you’d had other things on your mind.
“We drew, it was a good game though.”
You nodded, it didn’t matter much in the scheme of things, Aston Villa weren’t in a title race, weren’t in contention for a trophy of any kind but also weren’t at any real risk of relegation, they were just mid.
“How about mom?”
Leah wasn’t playing, but a part of you still cared about how her team had gone.
“They won, 1-2 to man city.”
You nodded, that was something.
Your food arrived which was a good enough distraction, both you and Jordan focusing your attention on the meals in front of you. A couple of years ago, all of your sunday mornings had been spent here with your two moms, nowadays if you went, which was rare, it was by yourself.
The meal went on in awkward silence, the both of you clearly unsure how to deal with the pent up awkwardness that had been developing since you’d left the house.
The meal dragged on until the two of you couldn’t pretend any longer and called it done, the two of you standing up and leaving in the same silence you’d entered.
You didn’t mind the silence, it hurt, but not in the same way that it normally did, you were less alone than normal, you felt less out of place then normal.
You were silently praying that your mom got home earlier than expected, to give you the same normal, painful consistency that you were used to instead of this, instead of whatever it is that Jordan was pulling out of you.
The two of you walked back to the house in silence, once upon a time Blu would have been walking in front of you, her little legs patting across the concrete, nowadays though Blu stayed in Birmingham, with Jordan. Leah claimed she didn’t have time for a dog, it had always been Jordan’s thing though.
When you got back to the house, you collapsed down onto the sofa, flicking on a episode of love island before opening up your phone and starting to answer the multiple texts which you’d been leaving on delivered.
First, you replied to your friends, letting them know you were fine and just needed to be home before your curfew, then your mom, letting her know you were fine. Once you were finished updating all of your people, you moved onto aimlessly scrolling, flicking through different social media posts.
Jordan eventually joined you on the couch, her attention on the episode.
You didn’t miss the way her eyes would stray towards you every few seconds, darting away from the tv screen to look at you. It seemed like she was hesitating to say something, like there words on the tip of tongue that she was too scared to say. Jordan was always the silent one, even as you watched your moms relationship die out, she was always the quiet one, Leah on the other hand was always the loud one, always trying to fix problems that were unfixable.
You wanted to prompt her, ask her what her apparent problem was, but you stayed silent, muzzling yourself for the good of keeping whatever peace there was between the two of you.
PLEASE FOR THE LOVE OF GOD SEND ME YOUR PART THREE IDEAS, KEEPING IN MIND THAT LEAH POTENTIALLY FINDS OUT ABOUT RS WEED USAGE AND CONFRONTS HER ABOUT IT BUT DOESN'T KNOW ABOUT THE DRUGS
#woso#woso community#sammykworshipper thoughts#leah williamson#arsenal wfc#leah williamson x reader#jordan nobbs x reader#jordan and leah#jordan nobbs#wobbs breakup#it’s painful#i’m crying so are u#trauma dumping#pain sweet pain#woso imagine
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Chasing Cars | ch 12.5 (jjk)
☆summary: when your brother goes to study on a semester abroad, your life collides with his best friend Jeon Jungkook, who's coincidentally your roommate. Will you survive the collision, or will you crumble into dust?
☆pairings: brother's best friend!Jungkook x younger sister!female reader
☆rating: 18+ (minors DNI, some chapters contain mature content)
☆genre: forbidden love?au, college!au, slice of life!au, smut, angst (as usual a lot of it), fluff
☆warnings: curses, alcohol, depression, panic attacks, unaliving attempt (ish, last scene of the drabble, do not read if it's triggering for you). basically jungkook's summer and he's severely depressed and almost proceeds to end it
☆word count: 4.6k
☆a/n: okay so this is an extremely tough one to read. the triggering scene is the last of the drabble, and I put a warning before it if you want to skip it! and if you ever need to talk, know that I'm here for you <3. I really relate to Jungkook's pain in this one, and I feel like I did not transcribe it well to paper, but I want you guys to have the drabble today so here it is :') hope you guys still enjoy even though it hurts like a bitch
☆series masterpost
☆☆☆☆☆
If I lay here If I just lay here Would you lie with me and just forget the world?
Chasing Cars, Snow Patrol
☆☆☆☆☆
Jungkook counts his heartbeats.
One, two…
Three.
He wonders if his heart will stop beating altogether. If the screaming in his head will mute, if the burning in his lungs will soothe away.
Everything hurts, and it’s all his fault.
It’s always his fault.
His right leg bounces up and down, and all he hears is you telling him it’s over. Over and over again.
If only he’d never made that promise to Gabrielle…
Nausea rushes in next, the taste of bile heavy on his tongue. The screaming intensifies, ripping his soul to shreds.
He lost you. He fucking lost you.
Not that he ever had you to begin with.
Tears threaten to fall, his vision blurring, but he blinks them away. He’s sitting outside on a park bench, the cool evening wind a caress on his features, yet he feels like he’s been dunked in an iceberg. He’s too cold, and his leg just keeps on bouncing up and down, up and down, up and down.
And his heart breaks and breaks, the screaming doesn’t falter, doesn’t quiet down.
He’s going to be sick. He barely drank yet he’s going to be sick. He doesn’t even dare close his eyes - all he can picture when he does so is you, and it breaks and breaks until he lets out a pained sound, hiding his face in his hands.
“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he curses, and he rubs his face, rubs his eyes, tries to chase the tears on your cheeks away from his memory.
But you don’t falter - you only become clearer.
He lost you.
He should have told you he loved you before he left for Paris. Should have held you for a little longer - how could he have been so stupid?
The last time he kissed you… right next to the door. He barely remembers it. He should have known to commit it to memory. It’s already fading - the screaming overtakes the sound of your voice.
A tear slips free, and he dries it away. Like hell he’ll allow himself to cry when it’s all his fault.
He was trying. He was trying to do what you wanted, and it backfired in his face. Regrets burn brighter than the sun. And now he’ll have to learn how to live without you when he barely had you to begin with.
He straightens, sitting back against the bench. The leaves rustle in the wind, the moon shines on and on. Around him, it’s like the world hasn’t stopped. But it’s stopped for him - he collided with a wall at eighty miles per hour.
Can the screaming fucking stop?
He runs a hand through his hair, toys with his lip piercings, and then he gets up, hiding his hands in the pockets of his pants as he starts walking.
He’s lost. He’s lost in the city of love - how ironic.
He wants to scream, wants to punch a wall, wants to break down.
He wants to fly home and hold you close and never let go.
But he has to let you go. Has to let you fly. Your decision makes sense - even if it wasn’t for Gabrielle, Jungkook knows it never could have worked. He knew it on Valentine’s Day when he couldn��t resist but kiss you after wanting you for so, so long. He knew it the moment you melted against him, tasting sweeter than anything he’d ever tasted.
Like poison, disguised to strike when he’d be defenceless.
And as he walks the streets of Paris aimlessly, Jungkook wonders if he’ll make it out alive.
It takes him an hour and a half to realize he’s just been roaming, slowly but surely getting lost. With no clue how to retrace his steps, Jungkook leans against the wall, eyeing a rat running on the other side of the street. He tries to breathe, but his lungs are crushed under the weight of what just happened, and all he can think to do is grab his phone to call for help.
To call for help, to call for the one person that caused it all.
Gabrielle stops in front of him some time later, rolling down the window of her car. In another world, Jungkook would have teased her for driving a Porsche, for flaunting her money like that, but all he can do is open the door and crash in the passenger side.
“JK?” Gabrielle lets out.
He’s crying. He starts crying, and it’s weak and pathetic, and Gabrielle doesn’t say anything before driving away.
The tears recede. They recede before they get to their destination, and Jungkook is relieved when he sees that it’s not the Air Bnb. That it’s some kind of fancy apartment complex, and he follows behind Gabrielle as she leads him up the stairs and to her apartment. She unlocks the door, throwing him a concerned look, and he waits until they’re inside before talking.
Before voicing the pain in his heart.
“It’s your fault.”
Gabrielle gulps. “Do you want to sit down?”
“It’s your fucking fault,” is all Jungkook manages to repeat.
There’s a silence, and Gabrielle kicks off her shoes before heading towards the couch. Jungkook doesn’t register the luxurious apartment as he follows her in - it’s like the edges of his vision are red, and all he sees is the one thing that made him lose you.
“What happened?” Gabrielle asks as he sits.
“She ended things with me.” Jungkook rubs his face. “Because you kissed me yesterday.”
New tears slip free, and Jungkook hates them. Hates the weight that they bear on his heart, on his shoulders.
“Who ended things with you?”
Jungkook leans back against the couch, shutting his eyes. And then you’re everywhere, and he sees Valentine’s Day. He sees your sparkly eyes in New York, he remembers how you used to hold him.
You’ll never hold him again.
“OC.”
Gabrielle sighs. “Putain, Jungkook. You lied about her.”
“I didn’t have a choice,” Jungkook whispers, unable to put the blame on you. “She asked me not to tell anyone, and then Tae was on Facetime with her yesterday and she saw us kissing and she ended things, and I won’t even be able to give her the gift I got for her.”
“Jungkook,” Gabrielle says, voice gentle and soothing, and Jungkook only then realizes that he can’t fucking breathe.
He’s hyperventilating. Everything burns and he can’t breathe - maybe you truly were the oxygen in his lungs.
“Deep breaths,” Gabrielle tells him. “Breathe with me.”
Jungkook feels his entire body freezing up, locking up. As if the thought of living without you is the predator, and he is just the prey. But he breathes with Gabrielle, feels the wave of the panic pass until he’s drained, his hands shaking slightly.
“Tell her, Jungkook,” Gabrielle says then. “Tell her everything. I don’t care if she knows.”
“I love her so much,” he confesses, and he’s crying again.
Gabrielle slides closer to him, and she rubs his back as he cries. It’s not as comforting as it should be - in the end, he still lost you. And Gabrielle doesn’t understand that he can’t tell you. That, even if he did, he still lost you. Because you never wanted Taehyung to know.
That won’t change.
It’s not like he can tell you anyway. Because what would Taehyung think, if you were willing to tell your brother? Jungkook would need to tell Taehyung about Gabrielle’s secret too, and he can’t do that to her.
Not when they were all they had growing up.
“You tell her,” Gabrielle repeats. “S’il-te-plait, Jungkook. Don’t lose her for me. Ça ne vaut pas la peine.”
What she doesn’t understand is, he’s already lost you. And he didn’t even deserve you anyway, not when he always fucks everything up. If it wasn’t for Gabrielle yesterday, he would have found a way to fuck it all up by himself.
No matter how much it hurts, Jungkook knows that you’re better off without him.
*****
Jungkook rereads the letter he’s written. He’s surprised he managed to keep paper free of the tears that have been rolling down his cheeks.
They’ve been staining his sheets instead, as he cries and chases your scent on his pillow.
He’s painfully aware that you’ve been sleeping in his room. The carefully made bed and the neatly folded t-shirt that you left on the night table are clear indications of it. And though Jungkook hadn’t planned on going home for the summer, the second he saw his room, he knew he had to go.
He can’t be near you. Not right now, when every single one of his breaths cut like shards of glass. So he decided to go home for the summer, to face the wrath of his family because at least that is familiar, that is something he can deal with…
He clenches his jaw hard, blinking away the sudden onset of tears. It recedes without leaving the confines of his eyes, and he manages to finish rereading the letter.
He glances at the jewellery box on his night table next, and he dares to imagine what would have happened if you hadn’t broken up. He imagines your smile, your teasing when you’d realize he got you a gift. A cheesy one at that, but the second he’d seen it, he’d just known he had to get it for you. So he’d bought it while everyone was distracted by something else, hiding it deep in his pocket like you’d been hiding deep in his heart. So he imagines giving it to you again and again, your gentle laugh and light blush invading his thoughts. You kiss him to thank him, and he goes weak in the knees, because when doesn’t he go weak in the knees for you?
But life had other plans for you and him than the simple act of giving you a gift. Indeed, life decided distance was meant for you and him, and though he believes he might die from it, Jungkook just wants to respect your decision.
He gets up from his bed, knowing that he’ll never be able to leave the letter and the gift in your room if he doesn’t do it now. So he folds the letter, puts it in the envelope on which he already wrote your name, and then he goes to the door of his room.
Taehyung and Ariane left to do some quick groceries ten minutes ago, yet Jungkook still makes sure the apartment is silent before actually stepping out of his room, heading down the hallway towards yours. And though it aches and burns and stabs and pains, he pushes the door open.
Your room is unchanged. He can almost picture the two of you tangling in your bed during the power outage, but he ignores the memories - they haven’t been doing him any good after all. He gently puts the jewellery box and the letter on the bed, and then he takes a step back. Stops in the door frame, eyes your room once again. He takes it all in, inhales the lingering scent of your perfume - the vanilla one that he was obsessed with - and then he closes the door on you, on his story with you.
It aches so fiercely that he tumbles back, almost falls, and then he heads to his room, to hide his face in his sheets hoping that the pain might finally recede.
It doesn’t. Especially not when Ariane and Taehyung come back, laughing together, reminding Jungkook that not everyone is breaking. It’s only him, and he assumes you too, though he tries not to think about that too much, because the guilt would eat him alive.
The guilt does eat him alive when he hears you coming home from work later, when he wakes from troubled sleep. He hadn’t meant to fall asleep, but then he hears your voice, and he remembers when you were whispering against his skin in the dead of night.
He doesn’t let himself break again. Instead, he packs his duffel bag, and then lies on his bed again. If only so that he can listen to you a little more before saying goodbye.
Jungkook startles at the sound of a knock on his door. He sits up, heart beating wildly in his chest as he dares imagine it’s you. But it’s not - it’s Taehyung, and they exchange a long look before Taehyung speaks.
“You hungry?”
“Not really,” Jungkook immediately replies.
Taehyung slightly frowns, glancing at the duffel bag, but he doesn’t say anything. He softly shuts the door behind himself to head back to the kitchen, and Jungkook sits there, the beginning of a panic attack starting to squeeze his lungs.
He hadn’t had panic attacks since he was in high school, but it seems that losing you has ignited them again, and he’s had a couple of them over the last few days. But he tries to remember to breathe, to not let it get to his head, and though it takes a moment, he eventually calms down.
He has to go. Has to leave before the panic truly seizes him and he dies.
He’s up and out of his room a second later, and though he knew he was going to see you, he freezes in the kitchen’s doorway. He just looks at you - you look tired, exhausted, and your eyes are just as haunted as his.
He doesn’t know what he says. Just tries to commit you to memory - your eyes, your hair, the way he feels naked and seen when you look at him. He commits your lips to memory too, and tries to compose a song with your voice in his head, something to listen to when he’ll be gone.
And then he turns his back on you to go put his shoes on. He hears Taehyung follow him more than he sees him, yet Taehyung remains silent until Jungkook is outside, the fresh evening air a soothing balm for the new panic rising in his heart.
“Are you okay?” Taehyung asks.
It’s not the first time Taehyung has asked since Jungkook lost you, but the answer doesn’t change. “Yeah, all good,” Jungkook lies, turning to face Taehyung.
Taehyung seems fully unconvinced. “You know, if you need to talk, you can talk to me, right?”
Jungkook almost wants to laugh, because that’s the last thing he can do.
“Thanks,” he says. “I appreciate.”
There’s an awkward silence, and Taehyung sighs. “I don’t know what happened with you and Gaby, but JK, please don’t let that fuck you up like this.”
“I’m okay,” Jungkook insists, pain and anger seeping in his voice. “I just want to go home.”
Jungkook is too much of a coward to hold Taehyung’s gaze, and his eyes drop to a spot on the ground between them.
“Well in that case, drive safe,” Taehyung says. “And text me when you get there.”
Jungkook nods curtly. “Will do.”
It looks like Taehyung wants to say something else. Especially as he glances inside, but Jungkook doesn’t wait. He turns around, walks down the stairs, and heads to where his car is parked. Taehyung doesn’t call his name, but Jungkook feels the weight of his gaze on his back.
And though part of him wants to, he doesn’t look back.
*****
Jungkook has always hated his father’s office. He’s never liked visiting JJS pharmaceuticals, and it hasn’t changed now that he’s a full-grown adult who should be indifferent to corporate buildings and tailor-made suits and the formality of his dad’s luxurious office. Yet, he’s still intimidated, still feels like he shouldn’t be here…
But this office will be his one day, now that he’s accepted to take over the company because Junghyun chose to start his own.
The office stands at the top of a skyscraper, offering a beautiful view of Manhattan, yet Jungkook doesn’t like it. He feels too far from the people down in the street, barely visible from such a height that he’s not even sure if they’re real or not. Like he’s disconnected - no wonder all the money and power have gotten to his father’s head.
Jungkook looks over his shoulder as the door of the office opens. To his surprise, it’s his mother walking in, and she dismisses her bodyguard as she heads towards him.
“Jungkook,” she greets him in that cold way she’s always reserved for him.
He nods, turning to face the city again. “Mother.”
“I’m glad you have come to your senses.”
They were at the conference press earlier. Jungkook still feels like his eyes are burning from all the flashing lights, and his face still hurts from the fake smile he tried to keep on for the family image’s sake.
“I’m sorry?” he lets out.
“Though we are proud of Junghyun for his decision to start his own company, we’ve been worried about you taking over JJS,” she continues, entirely ignoring Jungkook.
He clenches his jaw, choosing to remain silent this time around.
“But then again, I think you just needed to have your eyes opened by that girl,” she adds. “What was her name again?”
Jungkook’s heart feels like it’s been thrown in acid at the reminder of you, but he still refuses to answer.
“Nothing strengthens a man more than heartbreak,” his mother finishes. “Right?”
He takes a deep breath, knowing that he’s expected to answer this. “I guess so.”
His mother surveys him with that cold look of hers, slightly shaking her head. “We warned you about her, Jungkook.”
“What you said had nothing to do with why we broke up,” Jungkook spits. “Stop fucking bringing it up all the time.”
His mother’s gaze barely widens at the curse, and Jungkook hates that she’s so used to being disappointed in him that she doesn’t even say anything.
“In time you will see that I am right,” she says. “That… girl was just out to take advantage of you. It’s good that she’s out of the picture now.”
Jungkook’s heart breaks, like it’s been breaking since Paris. Like it’s been breaking every time you cross his mind. He never thought he could hurt so much - hell, he hasn’t slept or eaten properly since he came back to New York, surviving off of coffee and Buldak noodles.
“If you ever say one more thing about her,” Jungkook seethes through his teeth, “I’m pulling out of the contract. JJS can go to fucking hell for all I care.”
He storms away. He doesn’t want to know what his mother has to say, just knows that he needs air and a glass of water before he collapses, the weight of his broken heart so heavy that he thinks it puts the weight of the universe to shame.
He truly has been breaking, shattering, crumbling to the ground. He never thought love could hurt so bad, but what is this pain if not the proof that he truly, fully loved you?
That night, Jungkook forces himself to eat a real meal. And though it tastes like ash, he reckons one day it might be able to overcome the taste of heartbreak that’s been lingering since he lost you.
***** (tw s**cide attempt-ish in this last scene, so please do not read if that is triggering for you)
Jungkook is drunk. He’s drunk and the city lies at his feet, the breeze fresh high up here. It plays in his hair, and he imagines it’s you instead. He imagines it’s your fingers, and that he can reach for you, if he dares to.
He takes a step closer to the edge, unsteady on his feet. Perhaps it’s the call of the emptiness in front of him - it’s so similar to the emptiness that has been his constant since he came back to New York and had that press conference. His mind is empty - there’s a hole where his emotions should be.
He’s a void. An empty husk, and two steps forward and he won’t have to deal with anything anymore. Won’t have to deal with his father calling him worthless - but hey, at least he’s talking to him again. Won’t have to deal with his mother calling him a disappointment, to deal with his brother ignoring his calls.
Won’t have to deal with the guilt of losing you.
He’s alone, and lonely, and guilty and everything in between. It’s fucking eating him alive.
Jungkook takes a swig of the wine bottle in his hand, and then takes another step forward. He’s not allowed to be on this part of the roof - he had to climb over a fence to get here, and he still hears the sounds of the party in the distance. But he’s out of sight, and Lisa hasn’t come looking for him yet.
He’s on the edge of the roof. All it would take is a strong gust of wind, and he’d finally be free. But he doesn’t take another step forward. Not yet. Not when he remembers you - your smile is soothing the pain in his chest, and he holds on to it, if only for a moment.
His phone starts ringing, and Jungkook startles, dropping the bottle of wine. It slips off the edge of the roof, and Jungkook watches it as it falls and falls, and then explodes when it hits the pavement. It’s gore, his brain pictures himself there instead, and he takes a step back.
Jungkook grabs his phone. It’s Lisa calling, but for a moment, he lets himself imagine it’s you. He almost believes it - he’d pick up, and you’d tell him that you miss him, and he’d admit he almost texted you every day since returning to New York. But it’s not you - in this universe, you don’t even talk at all anymore.
“Hey,” he says when he finally picks up.
“Where are you?” Lisa asks.
He looks around. “Just on the roof.”
There’s a silence as Lisa moves away from the music on her side of the line. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah.”
She doesn’t believe him. He knows she doesn’t, especially when she says, “Don’t move, okay? I’ll come find you.”
Jungkook nods. “Mmh.”
“But you have to tell me where you are,” she adds. “Do you think you can do that?”
“I’m on the roof,” Jungkook repeats, his tone flatter than the flatline that’s been echoing in his head since he lost you.
“Yes.” He thinks he hears her gulp, and then her voice is filled with panic. “Where are you exactly?”
“Ah,” Jungkook lets out. “There’s a fence on the roof. Climbed over that.”
“Jungkook…” Lisa trails off. “I’ll be right there in a moment, okay? Just wait for me.”
He makes a noncommittal sound, and just keeps looking at the shattered bottle down in the street. He has half a thought that it could have killed someone as it fell, yet he can’t bring himself to care. Not when a dark corner of his heart wishes it was him instead.
“Please stay on the line,” Lisa adds.
Jungkook doesn’t answer. Just listens to Lisa’s breathing as she makes her way to him. And then he hears the shuffle of her feet behind him, and he hangs his phone up, putting it back in his pocket.
“Hey,” Lisa says behind him. “Do you think you could step away from the edge of the roof?”
Jungkook shrugs. “What’s the point?”
“Please, Jungkook,” Lisa lets out.
He barely recognizes her voice through the panic it holds, and he glances at her over his shoulder.
“What’s the fucking point, Liz?”
“Just step away from the edge of the roof and then we can talk, okay?” she says.
He clenches his jaw. “I don’t know.”
“Please,” Lisa says again. “I just want us to sit here and talk.”
Jungkook turns, and he sways. His heart lurches in his chest - for a moment, he thinks he’ll fall. But then he steadies himself, and he walks away from the edge of the roof, sitting next to where Lisa is standing.
She’s crying. He notices she’s crying and that, more than anything, breaks the dam inside of him.
“Holy fuck, Liz,” he lets out, and the tears finally break free.
Lisa sits next to him, pulling him in her chest as he cries, sobs racking through him. The pain is sharp as ever, a knife stabbing through his chest repeatedly. Everything hits him all at once - his family’s hate, his inability to control his own future, you…
Yet the thing that hurts the most is the fact he lost you. Because he would have been able to live a life in hell if it’d been a life next to you but now…
Now he just feels lost.
“What’s going on with you?” Lisa asks through the tears that stains her own cheeks.
Jungkook lets out a bitter chuckle. “Everything. Everything’s wrong.”
“What happened?”
Jungkook takes a deep breath, and then he confesses his love for you. Because it always goes back to you, and he wishes you were here with him instead.
“I was in love with OC,” he says. “You were right. But I lost her, and my family hates me, and I’m going to have to work for my dad and I just feel like life is so shitty. I’m so tired, Liz, you have no idea.”
“Jungkook…” she whispers, and her arms tighten around him, like she’s trying to hold his pieces together. “I am so sorry. And I know no words can truly help, but you are not alone.”
“I can’t even speak to Tae anymore because I’m convinced he’ll hate me,” Jungkook adds, and he wipes his cheeks dry. “Fuck.”
“You have me,” she whispers.
He hates it. He wishes she wasn’t there - some part of him wishes she hadn’t stopped him. Because he knows she has feelings for him, it’s always been obvious, and he’s only going to hurt her, too.
“I really loved OC…” he confesses.
“I know.” She runs a soothing hand on his back. “What happened?”
Jungkook tells her about Paris, keeping Gabrielle’s secret a secret, as he’s done his entire life. It makes him look even worse, he’s aware of it - how can he justify cheating on you without saying the full truth?
Simple - he can’t. Yet Lisa doesn’t call him an asshole. Doesn’t seem to judge him at all. No, she listens to him all night, clearly relieved that he’s not trying to jump off the roof anymore. And when she tells him she’ll help him find a therapist, Jungkook agrees. He agrees, because he’s tired of hating himself so much. He’s tired of everything, but maybe it’s time he tries to make it better.
If only so that he can live long enough to see you again. Because he wants to see you again. Wants to hear your voice again, wants to make sure you’re okay, better than he is. He likes to think you are - you have your friends and your family, and he knows they wouldn’t let you down.
By the time the sun rises, the flow of words that have been cascading from his mouth slows down, leaving him empty, yet it’s not the same. The void isn’t as dark anymore, like maybe there’s a light at the end of the tunnel.
And though maybe he’ll break her heart one day by not being able to offer more than platonic friendship, Jungkook knows he’ll forever be thankful that Lisa stopped him from committing the irreparable.
Read chapter 12 here!
☆☆☆☆☆
yeah so... I know it doesn't justify what he did, and the kiss with gabrielle but... my babie is broken and he needs a big big hug (and a lot of therapy so thank you Lisa for suggesting it). Feel free to talk to me if you need it <3
All rights reserved to @/oddinary4bts, 2024. Do not copy, repost or translate.
#chasing cars ch 12.5#jungkook smut#jungkook angst#jungkook fluff#jungkook x you#jungkook x reader#jungkook fic#jungkook#jjk smut#jjk angst#jjk fluff#jjk x you#jjk x reader#jjk fic#jjk#jeon jungkook#btswritersclub#chasing cars#chasing cars series
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Vigilante Shit 《pt.1》
(max verstappen x ricciardo!reader)
Yn Ricciardo is a familiar face for every formula 1 fan, having known her since she was 10 years old as she joined her brother in the paddock over the years, she leads quite a normal life as a normal college student with her boyfriend.. well, as normal as it can be
or
in which yn ricciardo gets through her first heartbreak by the help of her brother's teammate?
N.B: the summary isn't the best tbh... this small series (i think 4 or 5 parts maximum) is inspired by taylor swift's reputation and midnight albums (2 of my all time favourite albums)... I hope you guys like it! Also I left a hidden message for where this is going in here, so let me know your theories in the comments, thank you for reading ♥️♥️ °ps: don't worry, pt2 of the cillian x fem driver reader is coming very soon° WARNINGS: very short, not proof read, swear words, smoking and drinking (mentioned and in pics), 5 year age gap, if I missed anything else please let me know
faceclaim: jenna ortega
masterlist
Liked by jakesven, danielricandynric, ynswife and 89,618 others
DannyRicUpdates: YN Ricciardo gone wild?? The 20 year old was seen tody smoking and drinking right before the Italian GP (not really a hot look, the youngest riccardo looks sick and tired). yn is known as quite the lovely and good girl, her older brother always supports her and takes her travelling whenever her studies allow while she has a lovely boyfriend back home who is always waiting for her with open arms(as documented through hers and Daniel's social media) so what could possibly push her to waste her life away?
ynric: this is ridiculous, first of i am 20 I can drink in Europe and second it's non of your fucking business you dickheads
Liked by danielricciardo, landonorris, maxverstappen1 and 183,627 others
ynric: Tous les mêmes, tous les mêmes, tous les mêmes
username: the only 20 year old that looks like an actual 20 year old
username: now hold up, the first picture of her and jake was captioned with not all men... now she has this caption after 3 weeks of no jake
username: you might be onto something
username: I see where this is going and I don't like it
Liked by Dannyandyn, mickschumacher, danielricciardo and 126,819 others
ynric: I regret you all the time
username: soooo, jake fucked up huh...
username: tous les mêmes indeed
username: fucking hell man
username: no cause y'all remember that video where yn and jake answered some questions and he said that he doesn't think she'd look good in short hair and that he thinks dark colors and black doesn't suite her
username: thank fuck they broke up, like sure I hate that she had to get hurt but she can only go up from here
~liked by danielricciardo~
Liked by danielricciardo, Charles_Leclerc, ynric and 1,927,048 others
maxverstappen1: I like it 🤷♂️🤷♂️
username: max listening to Taylor swift was not on my 2023 bingo card wtf
username: no cause why did he choose the one song that had shit in the title
username: no cause yn having the caption from would've, could've, should've and now max suddenly listens to a song from the same album
username: coincidence? I THINK THE FUCK NOT
username: not him having the song on repeat 😂😂
part 2
#f1 imagine#f1 x reader#f1 social media au#f1 instagram au#f1 smau#f1#max verstappen x reader#max verstappen fic#max verstappen social media au#max verstappen smau#max verstappen x you#max verstappen social media fic#max verstappen instagram au#max verstappen x ricciardo reader#daniel ricciardo x sister reader#ricciardo!reader#daniel ricciardo sister#max verstappen#max verstappen angst#max verstappen fluff#max verstappen imagine#max verstappen fanfic
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˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ ❛❛ 𝑴𝒂𝒔𝒕𝒆𝒓𝒍𝒊𝒔𝒕 - 𝐘𝐉𝐖 ❞ ౨ৎ ⋆。˚
♡ྀི ₊ ❛❛𝐓𝐰𝐨 𝐂𝐨𝐧𝐧𝐞𝐜𝐭𝐞𝐝 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐬❞ ☰
Synopsis: ₊˚⊹♡
With the third magical academic year starting, you and Jungwon plan to have a normal school year and complete many goals. Except, you have to earn Enchantix with your frequent burn-outs, and Jungwon wants to become a full-fledged warrior and push past his anxiety. With their own goals in mind, they feel like 2 idiots that keep meeting by chance. However, when mysterious events threaten the magical kingdoms and schools, the specialists and fairies have to figure out the culprit and save the magical universe. But fate has other plans for their adventures and for your ‘coincidental’ meeting with Jungwon.
☰ TAGS: Winx Club smau, enhypen smau, slow-ass burn fic, violence, action and adventure, angst, college smau, fantasy au, strangers to lovers
╰┈➤𝚃𝚊𝚐𝚕𝚒𝚜𝚝: 𝚘𝚙𝚎𝚗 (comment or give an ask<3)
𝖸𝖺𝗇𝗀 𝖩𝗎𝗇𝗀𝗐𝗈𝗇 𝗑 𝖿!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋 ౨ৎ ⋆。˚
➤ft. NewJeans, Enha, TXT, BTS, esp, Jungkook, Itzy, Le Sserafim
⚠️Warning: swearing, violence, manipulation, family problems, over-exertion, anxiety, kys joks, sexual jokes, suggestive/smut (idk, tbh??), health problems, crime
⤷do not proceed if u have a problem/sensitivity to any of those topics
ᯓᡣ𐭩[NADDI NOTES]: I am sorry for discontinuing the last Jungwon story, but um, here u go, lmao??? REBLOGS, LIKES, COMMENTS are very much appreciated <3 also, idk why the banner looks so crusty. But I promise, if u tap on it, it will look clearer. L tumblr
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⋆ཐིཋྀᴄʜᴀᴘᴛᴇʀs:.ೃ࿔*:・. .☘︎ ݁˖ :
PROFILES: the fairies🧚♀️. || PROFILE: the specialists
˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊ 𝗔𝗖𝗧 𝗜: 𝗡𝗲𝘄 𝗥𝗲𝗻𝗱𝗲𝘇𝘃𝗼𝘂𝘀 ˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊
CHAPTER 1: back here again
CHAPTER 2: WE DID NOT FUCK
CHAPTER 3: the "W word"😭
CHAPTER 4: stress-baking
CHAPTER 5: I'm not into apex predators😒
CHAPTER 6: OH, it's YOU⁉️
CHAPTER 7: I may die??
CHAPTER 8: Why i don't f with dragons
CHAPTER 9: ur kinda a snitch 😐
CHAPTER 10: I'm not stressed abt a girl 🧍🏻♀️
CHAPTER 11: Drama Queen
CHAPTER 12: Attention hoe
CHAPTER 13: oh...
Tba...
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Do not copy/reupload my work. All rights are reserved to me. I worked hard to create my plot, so do not steal any of it otherwise you will be reported immediately, and I will have a go at you.
Any locations, characters used in this book DO NOT have a relevance to real life. Any event resembling anything to real life is coincidence. I do not condone harmful behaviours. This is fiction. It is all for entertainment purposes.
☰ [ENHA NAVIGATION]
˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊[TAGLIST]: @dreamiestay @melancholy-z @n1k1mura @wensurr @jiiyen @jwonistic
#series: 𝑇𝑤𝑜 𝐶𝑜𝑛𝑛𝑒𝑐𝑡𝑒𝑑 𝐹𝑎𝑡𝑒𝑠˖ . ݁𝜗𝜚. ݁₊#enhypen smau#fyp#enhypen#enhypen au#enhypen × reader#enha#enh#enhypen jungwon#enhypen x reader#enha imagines#yang jungwon#jungwon#jungwon soft hours#yang jungwon and reader#kpop smau#enha fluff#enha x reader#enhypen sunghoon#jay enhypen#enha scenarios#enhypen sunoo#enhypen angst#enhypen story#jungwon ff#jungwon fanfic#jungwon fluff#jungwon smau
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Love in Verses (XIII)
Chapter 13: ‘So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish.’
Hi! Here is new chapter! Andrew’s reaction to the kiss…
I hope you like this chapter! Tell me what you think!
****
Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)
Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here
Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?
Word Count: 2465
Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist
Be drunk
You have to be always drunk. That's all there is to it—it's the only way. So as not to feel the horrible burden of time that breaks your back and bends you to the earth, you have to be continually drunk.
But on what? Wine, poetry or virtue, as you wish. But be drunk.
And if sometimes, on the steps of a palace or the green grass of a ditch, in the mournful solitude of your room, you wake again, drunkenness already diminishing or gone, ask the wind, the wave, the star, the bird, the clock, everything that is flying, everything that is groaning, everything that is rolling, everything that is singing, everything that is speaking. . .ask what time it is and wind, wave, star, bird, clock will answer you: "It is time to be drunk! So as not to be the martyred slaves of time, be drunk, be continually drunk! On wine, on poetry or on virtue as you wish."
Charles Baudelaire, translation by Louis Simpson from Modern Poets of France: A Bilingual Anthology, originally published in Les petits poèmes en prose as “Enivrez-vous”, 1864
Andrew fell asleep out of exhaustion at one point, after tossing and turning for too long. But then, he woke up at dawn, around the time the sun was slowly turning the sky from inky to golden, and he couldn’t go back to sleep.
You had kissed him.
He let out a long exhale as he thought of the scene, pictured himself back on your sofa, with too much alcohol in his veins. Instead of your white ceiling, he could see your features all over again; from your messy hair to the burning fire in your gaze and your inviting lips. And then you were kissing him, he remembered closing his eyes without thinking. He remembered how his brain short-circuited then, how he forgot about everything in the world except for your lips on his and the warmth of your body against his own. And then your skin under his fingers, the softness of your hair, the brush of your breathing. He could have kissed you for hours, and perhaps he did, he couldn’t remember how long it lasted. Too long to be meaningless, that was for sure. Too long for him to pretend even to himself that it was unwanted.
And then he went to the bathroom in an attempt to gather his wits, but when he finally felt calmer again, once he had slowed down his heartrate, and he was walking back into the room, you were nowhere to be found. The door to your bedroom was closed, he guessed you had found refuge there.
His feet took him in front of the forbidden room, he stared at the imperfections carved in the wood of the door, the drops in the white paint. He raised his hand, fist closed, held it there for a moment, up in the air. But when he moved it closer to the door, his palm opened, seemingly on its own accord, and he didn’t knock. He merely rested his hand against the wood, thought about how soft your skin was, and remained standing there for a moment.
Should he try to come in? And for what? Talk about it? Huh… talk about what? There was nothing to talk about. You were drunk. You were drunk, and had acted without thinking and it didn’t mean a thing. You wanted Frank, and he wanted Samantha. You were colleagues, it would make everything complicated, too much so to be worth it. And anyway… anyway, there wasn’t even a reason to think about work. You didn’t want him. And he didn’t want you. You wanted to get your exes back, and you would, you had made an alliance for that. There was nothing to discuss about the kiss, about how much he liked it, about how he imagined knocking on your door now, and you opening it, and him kissing you again...
This was madness… he ought to control himself, to focus on his real goal, to fall back to reason. It was a mistake. You had made a mistake, and he ought to forget all about it.
He went to bed in silence, walking away from your door without knocking, unknowing of your struggle on the other side, of how much you hesitated to go knock on his door to kiss him again.
Instead, he went to the other bedroom, closed the door, and he fell asleep at long last, exhaustion and alcohol finally catching up with him.
And now, there he was, lying in a bed in your home. He couldn’t hear any sound coming from the rest of your flat, and he wasn’t surprised. It was too early, and it was the weekend, and you had gotten drunk last night. You would probably wake up only in a few hours, and he decided that it would be best if he weren’t in your home when you got up. So, he sat up, a migraine piercing his skull after the excess of drinking from the previous night. He groaned as he got up, dizzy, head spinning as he rearranged the messy sheets, but he then moved to the door anyway.
He walked as quietly as he could in your home, allowed himself to drink a glass of water before gathering his things and leaving. He left a note on your kitchen table for you to find in the morning.
Thanks for letting me stay the night. I had a great time with you, thanks for the wonderful whiskey!
I’ll see you on Monday at the office.
Andy.
PS: there’s no need to mention again what happened last night. We were both drunk, we weren’t thinking straight. I’m not angry, nor upset. Let’s just forget about it, and never drink so much whiskey ever again.
Once he had gathered his things, was ready to depart, he threw one last glance towards the closed door of your bedroom. He ignored the tugging at his heart that came with him looking away, and leaving you behind.
You had kissed him.
No matter how hard Andrew tried not to think about it, he couldn’t forget it. Couldn’t move passed it. Couldn’t erase the feeling of your lips on his, your fingers in his hair, the weight of your body leaning against his, the warmth of your breath fanning over his chin, the taste of your tongue as it slid over his…
He heaved a sigh, closed his eyes. Lying on his sofa, with his feet hanging over the edge, the furniture too small for his long frame, Andrew kept on replaying the scene in his head. He had spent the rest of his day trying not to think about you. He had taken a long walk with Elwood despite the rain, called his parents, called his brother, played some guitar, prepared a few things for his upcoming classes next week. He had kept himself busy, but it wasn’t working. You were always there, at the back of his mind. Now that the afternoon was slowly fading into evening, that the sun was almost gone and leaving behind its rays the light specks of starlight, Andrew was running out of excuses to avoid thinking about you. Now that he lied on his sofa, staring at his ceiling, all he could think of was that kiss. Or well, those kisses, rather. He would have been lying, had he pretended that what had happened had only lasted for one kiss. You had spent several minutes like this. Yeah, a long time. Christ...
He needed to forget this moment because it meant nothing. You were drunk. He was drunk. You were both drunk, not thinking straight, and after an awful night and torturing weeks of loneliness you both needed to feel less alone for a second. And that was it. Two friends who were attempting to cope with heartbreak, two friends who felt lonely, two friends who did something silly out of intoxication.
Nothing more.
And anyway, Andrew didn’t want you, he wanted Sam. He wanted Sam. Beautiful, funny, smart, impetuous Sam. The Sam who had been with him for eight years, who had been there through the most important changes of his life, Sam who made him wait but it was alright he could wait for her. Sam who didn’t share his interests, but that was okay, they had other things in common and he liked listening to her talk about what she loved.
He didn’t want you. Even if you were so fucking smart, it made his brain tingle in the best way to talk with you about literally anything. Even if you shared most of his interests and were curious about the things he loved that you knew nothing about. Even if you were hilarious, one of the few people able to make him genuinely laugh these days. Even if you were so damn strong, even now, even with your heart broken and your life in pieces. Even if you were beautiful, sometimes he couldn’t get passed that fact. Even if you were kind, the type of kindness that made him believe in humankind…
No, no, no, no! He wanted Sam. He wanted Sam, this was simply a mistake. He would not bring it up again, he would tell you nothing about it, he would ignore that it had happened altogether. You had shared a moment, you had shared a kiss, but it was a mere instant, a flicker, gone too fast, programmed to die out. A shooting star. One moment of solace that faded as quickly as it had appeared.
He tried to picture Sam instead, painted her face against his eyelids. But as soon as he didn’t consciously force himself to think of her, your lips were burning his again, and your hands cradled his cheeks, your skin so warm against his…
He opened his eyes, sat up in a jolt.
This was ridiculous. Utterly ridiculous. He was in love with Sam, he wanted her back, that was what this whole arrangement with you was about. And you wanted someone else too, you wanted Frank, you didn’t want Andrew…
Without thinking, his gaze drifted towards his coffee table and the smartphone that sat there. He touched the screen, making his lockscreen light up, a picture of Sam grinning appearing. He checked his notifications without unlocking his phone, but there was nothing. You hadn’t called, hadn’t texted. Which was normal, there was nothing to discuss. You were probably busy anyway, you had mentioned that you had some chores to do today, and after the excesses of the previous night, you would need some rest. Besides, he had already told you not to mention the kiss again, so.
Well, kisses…
He tried very hard to deny that he was disappointed as he locked his phone. He couldn’t do it. He missed you. Which was crazy, because he had seen you last night, and he would see you tomorrow at work. He was just being silly. He needed to get it together… it was just a kiss. Nothing would come out of it.
None of you wanted a new relationship, you both wanted your exes, you both wanted what you had lost. You didn’t want to find anything, you wanted to claim back what was yours.
Although… Andrew didn’t understand you. He didn’t understand why you wanted Frank so bad. You could have better than him, you could have… someone who would care about your interests, someone who would listen, someone who would love you enough not to drag you along, someone who would be interested in what you had to say. How could Frank not be interested in what you had to say, anyway? Andrew thought back of a lunch break earlier that week, spent just the two of you in your office. Your conversation had wandered from politics about the economy and inflation, Mary Oliver’s poetry, Mavis Staples, your latest attempt at keeping a plant alive, Elwood’s latest mischief, abortion laws in Ireland, your favourite pasta dish, his mother’s art, and you had settled on attending a protest together next weekend that was organised to show support for the women who had been victims of the Magdalene laundries, before going back to work.
You had so much to say, about so many important and mundane things alike, and you were so brilliantly smart about all of it. And Frank was at best… faking interest? What was wrong with that man?
The image of Sam focused on her phone while he spoke flashed before his eyes, but he pushed it aside. It wasn’t the same, he… he wasn’t as interesting as you were, and besides… besides…
Was it not the same?
He rested his elbows on his knees, buried his face in his hands, heaved a long, aching sigh. Why was it all so difficult anyway? He didn’t feel like himself, hadn’t for a while, to be fair. Sometimes when he was teaching, he forgot about the pain that came with broken love, sometimes when he spent time with you and made you laugh, he was reminded that the world did not end with the heresy of losing someone he loved. The aching came back still, the emptiness he saw in his bed, on his couch, on the shelf of his bathroom, in the space between wanting and having. He should have known that the time spent with Sam, spent loving her, was only a loan. It was bound to end. Everything ended. Everything died in the end. The high that came with the euphoria of being in love, like a drug, was only a high, but reality had to come back, to slither in through the cracks of a dream that would be gone with the rising of dawn.
And anyway, the world was doomed, everything was going sour, there were wars and famine and people suffering, and in this crumbling sense of humanity, what was the point in loving at all? What was the point of holding the hope that something in this flitting world could last? A fool’s hope that would eventually collapse. It was pointless. Why would he want to love again? Why would he want Sam again, why… why would he want you?
Why would I want to love her when loving Sam wasn’t enough? Why would she want to love me when Sam gave up?
He could feel himself spiralling, knew it wasn’t healthy, tried to hold back the tears. And he thought of you, of your kisses, of your hands on him, of your mouth and your taste and the feeling of being human again that came with you wanting him, even if only for a moment.
Judging by how the past six months had gone by, Andrew thought he would not avoid it, the panic and the pain and the despair, that it would last a few hours at least. But then the thoughts came in verses, rhymes formed, the semblance of a rhythm, of a pattern, with words that carried meaning.
He looked up, blinked as he blankly stared at the dark screen of his tv. A void. Nothing. He couldn’t see it. He hurried to stand up, to head for his office, to grab the first piece of paper and the first pen he could find.
This was just the embryo of an idea, nothing structured, he would have to work on it, but it was something. The first thing he wanted to write in six months. The feeling of relief that came with tracing each letter was indescribable.
It started with two simple questions. He wrote them thinking of you. Thinking of you and him. Thinking of your lips on his, as a way to accept that he wanted to feel them again.
Why would you be loving?
Why would you be loved?
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