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freeabortionslol · 22 hours ago

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don't marry him (quinn hughes x bsf!reader)

summary: angst, quinn talks reader out of engagement, unrequited love (kinda), reader is a lawyer, lots of flashbacks, italics mean flashbacks, not a single y/n used (yay!)

warnings!! anxiety, panic attacks, cursing, intense argument

a/n: okay so I rly didn't know what to do with this bc it honestly felt wrong to have him confess his feelings in this moment LMAO so I think I'm def gonna do a pt 2. anyways this was the fic from my drafts that the people voted for so here it is!! hope u enjoy :)

wc: 4.1k

“You lost.” Quinn said, staring out at the Lake, not making eye contact with you.

“What?” You asked, twirling your flashy engagement ring around your finger.

Max had come into your life at a time when everything felt uncertain. You were fresh off a series of career setbacks, questioning your worth and your ability to build the future you had always dreamed of. He was steady, charismatic, and above all, ambitious. Qualities you admired and felt you needed to anchor yourself. He made you feel secure in a world that often felt chaotic.

Quinn sighed, turning to face you slightly. “At life. You lost.” He mumbled out, taking a sip of his beer before turning back to the lake. Your face quickly softened with a hint of sadness.

“I-I didn’t lose. I’m happy and successful.” You said, your tone coming off with a hint of anger.

You and Max met at a work conference, one of those overly formal events where you spent half the time pretending to be interested in panel discussions and the other half networking. Max had approached you during a coffee break, his easy confidence setting him apart from the crowd. His suit was perfectly tailored, his smile sharp but not unkind.

Quinn took one look at you, shifting in his seat slightly. “Y-You…you don’t want this.” Your heart thumped slightly, cracking your knuckles to drown out the sounds of your own thoughts. “I’m scared for you.”

Max’s love came with conditions. He valued success above all else, and he expected you to do the same. Work always came first, even if it meant skipping family events or cutting vacations short for a meeting. He didn’t understand why you needed to spend time with Quinn, Luke, and Jack.

“Quinn, I love him. You know that.” Your brows furrowed in an attempt to make him understand.

The engagement came as a surprise, even to you. It was during a charity gala, one of those glittering events Max thrived in. He had pulled you onto the stage during his speech, getting down on one knee in front of hundreds of people. The ring sparkled under the chandeliers, and the applause was deafening. You had said yes because saying no didn’t feel like an option. Not with Max’s expectant smile, the cameras flashing, and the weight of the moment pressing down on you.

“But do you like him?” His words sent a shiver down your spine as you continued to fidget with the ring on your finger. The ring that was far too heavy to be wearing constantly, its band made of gold instead of your preferred silver. His words hung in the air, the weight of them sinking in your chest like a stone tossed in the still waters of the lake. His gaze remained fixed ahead, unwavering.

Max wasn’t a bad man. He wasn’t cruel or unkind. But he didn’t see you, not the way Quinn did. He saw your potential, your ambition, but not the person you were when all the noise fell away.

“I-I…I don’t- of course I like him. What are you getting at?” You stuttered, confused about your own feelings on the matter. Quinn glanced at you with a side eye, taking another swig from his bottle before speaking.

“Really?” He asked, his heart shattering at the sight of tears welling in your eyes. “I see the face you make when he talks. It’s blank, unreadable. And when he laughs? Your eyes scrunch up like when we would drag you out of bed to get on the boat.” Quinn lets out an uncomfortable chuckle. “You really want to wake up next to his mustache every morning for the rest of your life?” You roll your eyes, posture slumping.

“Don’t make fun of him.” You warned, your voice becoming stern. Quinn bites the inside of his mouth before turning away. “I’m successful, Quinn.”

“Yeah-yeah, that’s great. You have all the fuckin’ money you could’ve wished for.” He huffs out with a sarcastic smile.

“Don’t do that. Don’t make me sound materialistic-” You crossed your arms, Quinn cutting you off quickly.

“Well it’s kind of hard when all you do is work and work-” His voice raises significantly.

“This is my dream! If you can’t accept the fact that i’m happy-”

“Yeah! And you’re so damn caught up in it that you don’t have time for us anymore!” He yells, sending you a look of anger. One you’d never seen before. He breathes heavily, trying to calm himself down as he moves to the edge of his seat. His eyes soften when he catches your expression, scared. He sighs reluctantly before he speaks again. “Luke notices the way you brush him off when Max is around. He notices how you never fly out to Jersey to see him and Jack like you used to.” Your breath hitched as Quinn’s words pierced through the air. His voice had calmed, but the raw emotion in his eyes cut deeper than his raised tone ever could. You looked away, not able to face the weight of his gaze, and stared at the rippling water instead. The golden light of the setting sun shimmered on the surface, mimicking the perfection you thought you’d built.

“Luke said that?” You whispered, your voice barely audible. A lump formed in your throat, but you swallowed it down, refusing to let it show. You didn’t want this, not here, not ever.

“Yeah.” He replied softly. “Jack see’s it too. They miss you.” Quinn turned his head to face you, your gaze still not meeting his. “I miss you.” You turned to glance at him, tears bubbling as you brushed a strand of hair from your face. You continued playing with your ring, biting your lip to hold the cries.

You sniffled, wiping your nose with the sleeve of your sweatshirt. “This is my life. I won.” You croaked out. Quinn sighed, leaning back in his seat as he swirled the beer bottle in his hand.

“When we were kids, my Aunt Julia came over to visit us during christmas. Do you remember that?” He asked quietly, catching you off guard in a moment of vulnerability. You nodded your head, continuing to bite your lip. “She asked all of us- Me, you, Jack, and Luke ‘What do you want to be when you grow up?’” Your eyes softened quickly, bringing your knees to your chest. “Do you remember what you said?” He asked, his tone empathetic.

“Yeah, a lawyer-”

“A mother.” He interrupted. The words hit you like a punch to the chest, knocking the air from your lungs. You froze, staring at Quinn as the memories hit like a tidal wave.

“I…I don’t remember that.” Your voice barely above a whisper.

Quinn gave you a sad smile, his eyes softening. “You do. You just don’t want to.” He brought the bottle to his mouth, looking out at the lake again. The two of you sat in the thick silence. Quinn, knowing he was winning this conversation and you, overthinking every little moment from the past two years. Tears began to escape your eyes as you stared out at the lake, refusing to look at Quinn. He turned to you, seeing how hard this conversation was for you. He wanted to pull you into him, let you cry into his shoulder until all the pain went away, but that wasn’t his job anymore. It was Max’s. The pain burned deep into Quinn’s chest as he recalled every memory he shared with you at this house. Jumping off the boat together on hot summer days, neighborhood barbecues where you would wear those short little sundresses he liked so much, your first kiss while playing spin the bottle together, and of course every deep conversation you shared on this back deck, in these exact chairs. When he was thirteen, he was sure of the fact that he would marry you. He never expected to be sitting here, watching you fiddle with an engagement ring that he didn’t buy.

You blinked, wiping the tears from your face as you decided to face your fear of confrontation. “I-If I don’t work hard now, I won’t have anything left when I'm old and burnt out.” Quinn’s jaw clenched as he processed your words, his gaze fixed on the lake but his mind clearly elsewhere. He tilted his head back slightly, exhaling through his nose like he was trying to suppress his frustration. Your lip trembled, more tears falling by the second as you looked away.

“H-He um-” You paused, taking a long sigh as you looked over at Quinn. “He says there’s no time for children in our career.” Quinn whipped his head over to you, his expression softening as he got lost in your words.

“He’s a piece of shit.” Quinn mumbled, shaking his head as he returned his gaze to the lake.

You licked your lips as you rolled your eyes. “He’s not a piece of shit, okay? He’s a good guy, you just don’t know him.” You said, your tone growing in frustration. Quinn looked over to you, mouth open, brows furrowed as if you’d just said the most unbelievable thing.

He huffed out a small laugh before returning his eyes to the bottle in his hand. “You’re fuckin’ delusional.” He let out quietly, taking another sip. You whipped your head to him, your frustration quickly bubbling over.

“Excuse me-”

Quinn was quick to interrupt you, his voice raised slightly. “You heard me. You’re fucking delusional if you think that’s love.” He rolled his eyes, looking back at you.

You scoffed, licking your bottom row of teeth as you let out an uncomfortable laugh. “You’re an asshole, you know that?” Your expression had become serious, your tears stopping in their tracks. “This is love!” Your voice carefully rose in volume. “I fell in love,” You laughed slightly, letting a slight smile escape your lips out of frustration. “You’re just jealous.”

Quinn’s face turned bright red as he took in your words. He looked down at his lap, then back to you. He bit the inside of his cheek, letting out an uncomfortable chuckle before speaking. “Jealous?” He asked, brows furrowed. “My god, you're so full of yourself sometimes.” He didn’t mean that and he knew, but you didn’t. You bit your lip, trying to hold back tears as your best friend tore you apart. “You seriously think i’m jealous of him?” He asked, his voice just below a yell.

“No, of me!” Quinn froze, his beer bottle mid air as the words echoed between the two of you. “You’re jealous because I found love and-”

Quinn slammed the bottle on the wooden deck, the sharp sound making you flinch. “Don’t.” He snapped, his voice shaking with anger. “Don’t twist this into me being the bad guy for giving a shit about you.”

“You don’t give a shit!” You shot back, standing up as your emotions boiled over. “You just can't stand the fact that i’m not following you around like a fucking puppy anymore!” Quinn stood too, his frame towering over you, but his expression wasn’t filled with intimidation. It was filled with raw, unfiltered pain.

June 23rd, 2012

Dear diary, today was pretty good. In the morning, Jack and Luke jumped on my bed to wake me up which sucked, but when are they not annoying? Anyways, they dragged me down to the lake for a boat day. We went with their dad and their brother Quinn (my future husband). Jack and Luke were doing this wakeboard surfing thingy so I decided to stay close to Quinn. He’s just sooo perfect. His hair is amazing and he smells so good. I wanna be his girlfriend like literally so bad but I can’t tell if he likes me or not. He held my hand when we jumped in the water which was literally the best thing that has EVER happened to me. Anyways, that was the most important thing that happened today.

“What are you reading? You don’t read.” Jack’s piercing voice pulled Quinn straight from focus. He quickly turned around, shutting the book immediately.

“Nothing uh- just something for school.” He stammered out. Jack furrowed his brows, crossing his arms.

“It’s summer.”

“Yeah, summer reading.” Only it wasn’t summer reading. It was your diary, something personal and private. Quinn was only reading it to find out where you hid the hockey puck you stole, but he stumbled upon a catalog of entries about himself. Do you expect a thirteen year old boy to not read it?

“Okay well, dinner’s in five minutes.” Jack said before spinning on his heel to exit the room. You liked Quinn, like really liked him and now he knows it.

“You need to think about what you just said.” Quinn said, his voice low. “Think about that and then compare it to every time I talked you through your panic attacks, or every time I picked you up at three in the morning when we were sixteen because you were too drunk to drive home, or every time I offered you a place to stay when your parents were fighting. Then, you can tell me if you think I give a shit or not.” He stared you down, his eyes becoming tense as your bottom lip began to tremble.

“I didn’t-”

Quinn huffed out his breath, interrupting your speech. “Do you know how hard it’s been to watch you? To see you become someone I don’t even recognize anymore?” His voice became stern, raising in volume. “You don’t smile the same way anymore. You don’t laugh like you used to!” Your breath hitched, the weight of his words suffocating. You looked down at the ring on your finger, the glittering diamond that once felt like a prize but now felt more like a shackle. “You think I don’t care?” His voice was quiet, but the pain in his voice was unmistakable. “I’ve always cared. A-And seeing you like this, wearing that ring, in this life that’s clearly eating you alive? It kills me.”

You licked your bottom lip, tears spilling down your face as you looked up at him. You swallowed the lump in your throat, letting out a shaky breath as you gathered your thoughts.

“Hey, babe. You almost ready?” You heard Max’s voice shout from the living room as you finished putting your earrings on.

“Yeah, just a second!” You yelled back, fluffing your freshly blown out hair in the mirror. You took a deep breath as you looked yourself up and down in the dark green bodycon dress that Quinn had gotten you for your 21st birthday. You’d never put it on, but you assumed it was fitting for a work Christmas party. Was it too much? You thought to yourself as you ran your hands down the sides, seeing that the length was about an inch above your fingertips. You decided it was fine and made your way out of the bedroom, purse in hand as you walked to the living room. Max sat on the couch in his tailored Prada suit, a bit pretentious to wear to a work party. His legs were spread wide as he had one hand on his phone, and the other on the back of the couch. He looked up from the screen to glance at you in your dress. You gave him a soft smile, your shoulders tensing up as he furrowed his eyebrows.

“It’s a bit short, don’t you think?” He asked as he ran a hand through his blonde hair. You looked down at your dress, then back up at him.

“W-Well, I was thinking that a little. Should I change?” Your voice was shaky, filled with nerves at Max’s disapproval.

He shook his head, standing from the couch with his hands in his pockets as he made his way to the door. “No, no. We're already gonna be late with how long you took to get ready.”

There were little moments like that that clouded your mind as you stood in front of Quinn. Your breathing was shaky, your face now fully engulfed in hot tears as he stared into your eyes. “You don’t get it.” You let out, your voice just barely above a whisper. “I’ve spent my whole life trying to find stability. To feel…safe.” Your voice cracked on the last word, and you swallowed hard, trying to steady yourself.

“Safe?” Quinn repeated, his eyes locking with yours. “Is that what this is? Because it doesn’t look like it. You’re not safe. You’re trapped.” He gestured to the ring on your finger, his voice lowering at the depressed sight of you. Your lips parted, but no sound came out. You stared at him, your chest tightening as his words dug into the thoughts you’d been trying so hard to suppress. Quinn softened, stepping closer. “You deserve more than this.” he said, his voice breaking slightly. “And I think, deep down you know that.”

You bit your lip, sniffling your nose before wiping your tears with your sleeve. “I’m in too deep. I can’t get out.” You whispered, finally bringing yourself to the point to admit it. You weren’t happy, you knew that, but you couldn’t tell anyone. Well, you thought you couldn’t until Quinn finally pushed you to the point where there wasn’t another option.

Quinn let out a sigh mixed with exhaustion and a hint of relief. He sent you an empathetic smile as he absentmindedly grabbed your hand, rubbing his thumb against the back of it. “You can.” He said, his voice quiet. “You’re not alone. I’m here��if you need help. I’m always gonna be here.” Your breath caught in your throat as Quinn’s hand enveloped yours, his warmth cutting through the icy wall you’d built around yourself. His touch was steady, grounding, and for the first time in what felt like forever, you felt a flicker of hope. His words echoed in your head, soft and firm. You stared down at his hand, the calluses on his fingers brushing lightly against your skin as his thumb moved in slow, soothing circles. It felt so familiar, so safe, and the contrast to Max’s cold indifference hit you like a wave. You couldn’t help but let all the emotions running like a swarm through your head push you to the point of breakage. You began to sob, your eyes still looking at your hands intertwined as your breath came out in short, stammered increments. Quinn didn’t waste any time before pulling you into his chest, allowing your sobs to escape into his shirt as he wrapped his arms around your body. He held you tightly, his arms wrapping around you like a shield against everything that had been weighing you down. His chin rested on top of your head as your tears soaked into his shirt, but he didn’t seem to care. His hand rubbed slow circles on your back, grounding you in a way you hadn’t felt in ages.

“It’s okay,” He murmured softly into your hair. “I’ve got you.” You clung to him, your fists gripping the fabric of his shirt as if letting go would mean losing the only thing tethering you to solid ground.

The room began to shrink in an instant, reading the text from your mother. “It’s final. Dad and I are separating. You and I are moving to Gran and Pop’s when you get back from the lake house, so I need you to pack up everything.”

The tears came almost immediately, but that didn’t scare you. It was the feeling you got in your chest, like your heart was radiating pulses all over your body. Pounding over and over again, like the beating was the only thing you could hear. The sound of Quinn shooting pucks only made it worse, like each shot was another banging ache to your head. You tried to slow your breathing, but it felt like the most difficult challenge at that moment. Your breaths were short and hitched, gasping for air at any chance you got. Your hands shook as your phone fell out of them. You were terrified, you didn’t know what was happening. You couldn’t die, you were only sixteen. You still had so much to do in life. You tilted your head up, staring at the ceiling light, but that only made it worse. Quinn noticed when you didn’t say anything about the shot he’d just missed, immediately dropping his stick to run over to you.

“Hey, Hey. What’s wrong? Are you okay?” He said frantically as he leaned down to where you were sitting on the floor. You tried to tell him, tried to speak, but your head was stuck looking up, and you felt like you couldn’t move it. Quinn placed his hand on the back of your neck, pulling your head down to face him. Your face was covered in tears, completely red as your mouth parted slightly. “Talk to me.” He said gently. “Please?”

You licked your quivering lips, trying your hardest to breathe. “I-I…I c-can’t. I can’t b-breathe.” His heart dropped at your words, the panic in your voice cutting through him like a knife. His hands moved to gently cradle your face, his thumbs brushing away your tears even as more fell.

“Okay, okay,” He said softly, his own voice trembling but steadying for your sake. “You’re having a panic attack. You’re not dying, I promise.” You gasped again, your breaths shallow and uneven, your chest tightening with each attempt. “Look at me.” He instructed. “Breathe with me. In through your nose, out through your mouth.” He blew out softly, his eyes locked on yours as he repeated the motion.

You tried to mimic him, but your breath was quickly caught in your throat, sending you a fresh wave of panic. “I c-can’t Quinn, I can’t!” You cried.

“Yes, you can.” He reassured, his hands never leaving your face. “I’ve got you. I’m right here. Just take it slow.” You managed a small, shaky inhale, your body trembling as you followed his lead. “There you go.” He said, his voice laced with a small flicker of relief. “Now, out through your mouth.” Quinn stayed with you, guiding you through each breath as the pounding of the room began to dull. Finally, your breaths came easier, the crushing weight on your chest lifting little by little. You looked at Quinn, your face still wet with tears.

“Thank you.” You whispered, your voice hoarse.

His thumbs still traced circles on your cheeks as he sent you a soft smile. “I’ve got you. You’re not alone.”

You stayed, sobbing into Quinn’s shirt as his grip around you tightened. He listened to your breathing patterns, looking out for a sign of a panic attack. He’d memorized you at this point. He knew the exact time to jump in, and he knew how to calm you down.

“Quinn, I’m so scared.” You cried out, wrapping your arms around him to pull him closer.

Quinn moved his hand from your back to your head, running his fingers through your hair. “I know.” He whispered. “I’m sorry.” He leaned back just enough to gently tilt your chin up with his fingers, his blue eyes meeting yours. They were soft, but filled with an intensity that made your heart ache. “You thought you had to want this.” He said, speaking the words you never had the confidence to say. “Doesn’t mean it’s right. It doesn’t mean it’s what you deserve.” You looked up at him, not seeing Quinn Hughes, captain of the Canucks, but your childhood best friend, Quinny, who talked you through every panic attack, walked you home from every party, and gave you a bed through every fight between your parents. That’s what you deserved. Someone willing to give you that much dedication, not some pretentious lawyer who only loves you for your accomplishments. In a moment of determination, after wiping your tears, you dramatically pulled off your engagement ring, slamming it on the railing of the deck. The sound of the ring hitting the wooden railing echoed in the stillness of the night, sharp and final. Quinn’s eyes darted to it, then back to you, his lips parting in surprise. You stood there trembling, not from fear but from the sheer weight of the decision you’d just made. Your chest heaved as the tears continued to fall. This time they weren’t from sadness, they were from release. Quinn hesitated for only a moment before stepping closer, his hand hovering over yours as if to silently ask for permission. When you didn’t pull away, he took your trembling hand in his, holding it like it was the most fragile thing in the world.

“You-” He started, his voice breaking slightly before he cleared his throat. “You did it.”

“I did it.” You whispered, almost in disbelief yourself. You stared at the ring, gleaming under the soft glow of the porch light. It had once symbolized everything you wanted, but now it felt like a chain you’d finally broken free from.

#freeabortionslol #quinn hughes #quinn hughes x reader #fanfic #nhl fanfiction #nhl players #qh43 #imagine #hockey #hughes brothers

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heartfullofleeches · 1 day ago

Note

PLEASE ELABORATE PELASE

Shout out to you and the anon who wrote this:

[Please elaborate about consensual intox play with Sammy, I miss my masochistic guard dog of a boy <3]

For enabling me-

[ (consensual) Drugging, Submissive Yan, mentions of alcohol and weed]

He plays it off as a passing thought- A reoccurring fantasy he knows will haunt him until he hears your opinion on the idea.

"I don't really drink... Everyone I've drank with says I'm a lightweight which some think is funny due to how tall I am.. One beer is enough to get me tipsy.."

Sammy bites his lip hard enough to make them bleed- It's so embarrassing, almost humiliating to speak about his desires aloud. You're the only person he'd ever want to play them put with, so it's better out than in.

"Would you ever be interested in... using me while I'm under the influence?"

There's nothing Sammy yearns for more than being under your complete control. Eyelids drooping as you inch closer, encouraging him to take just one more sip. His fingers unable to properly suction to the glass as his weight slumps against the couch, motor skills lose to a battle he had no hope of winning as whatever you gave him hits his system.

"Having a little trouble, Sam? It's okay, I'll take good care of you. Why don't I help you get out of that stuffy sweater? You're burning up, sweet boy-"

Teasing him more, strip him bare and ravage him to your heart's content. Call him useless, useless without you there to pick up the pieces. He can't do a thing without you in this state - so hopelessly dependant as his lips struggle to form the sentences needed to beg you for all you can give.

All this, but with a Stoner Darling instead-

Sammy writhing in anticipation waiting for the edibles Darling gave him to kick in. Watching them take a puff from their smoking method of choice, wishing they'd force it down his throat in the next breath. Poking fun at him for being so out of his mind from one heavy hit when it takes a trained professional like them several to be as totaled as Sam is. They'd never do that to him, but a man can dream-

"Out like a light, already? We're gonna have to build up that tolerance of yours a bit, Sam. Think you can take another kiss?.... Haha, what am I even asking for? I know you can, Sammy..."

Sammy and Darling having a cute date together with consent established prior- Sam's hanging onto their every word, wondering when they'll make their move when he suddenly begins to feel the effects of whatever they slipped into his drink without him noticing. Darling smiles and laughs like nothings out of the ordinary as they drag their flustered, slurring boyfriend back to the car-

I'm feral for this man.

#Sammy my oc #yandere imagines #yandere x you #yandere headcanons #yandere scenarios #yandere blurb #yandere insert #yandere x reader #male yandere #yandere #yandere oc #sub yandere #suggestive #yandere smut

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p0orbaby · 1 day ago

Note

Leah and reader first kiss with leah being really nervous. Like they went on their first date & leah walks her home… really cliche I know

The air smells faintly of rain, even though it hasn’t rained all day. The pavement is dry, the streetlights casting golden reflections onto the asphalt, and Leah is walking beside you, just close enough that your arms brush every few steps. She’s been fiddling with the hem of her jacket for the past five minutes. Tugging, twisting, untwisting. You pretend not to notice, mostly because it’s adorable.

The date was perfect, or at least as close to perfect as a first date can be. Dinner at that Italian place she swore was “authentic” (it was), followed by a walk through the park where she tried to act cool but absolutely jumped when a bird startled her. You didn’t laugh—out loud, at least.

Now, you’re here, just a few metres from your flat, and Leah is… acting weird. Not bad weird, just fidgety, overthinking-every-breath weird.

“So, uh,” she says, and it’s the fifth time she’s started a sentence with so since you left the restaurant.

You glance at her, waiting. She’s looking straight ahead, but the way her jaw is set and her shoulders are tensed makes her look like she’s bracing for impact.

“Had fun tonight?” she finally asks, like she hasn’t already asked you three times.

You bite back a smile. “Still fun the fourth time you ask”

Her head snaps to you, her expression caught between horrified and amused. “I haven’t asked that many times”

“You definitely have”

“I haven’t,” she insists, and she’s so defensive about it that you can’t help but laugh.

“Relax, Leah,” you tease, bumping her arm. “I had fun. Real fun. No sarcasm”

Her shoulders drop a little, but she still looks like she’s holding her breath. It’s endearing, really—watching Leah Williamson, usually so calm and composed, turn into a bundle of nerves just because you’re standing next to her.

You reach your building, and she stops walking, standing just a half-step back, like she’s unsure if she should follow you or not. You turn to face her, raising an eyebrow.

“Walk me to the door?”

Leah blinks, then nods so quickly it’s like you’ve flipped a switch. “Yeah, sure. Of course”

The building is quiet as you approach the entrance, your footsteps echoing faintly against the stone steps. Leah shoves her hands into her jacket pockets, her fingers curling and uncurling like she doesn’t know what to do with them.

You turn to her, leaning back slightly against the door. “Thanks for tonight. I had a really good time”

“Me too,” she says, and her voice cracks just slightly on the too. She clears her throat immediately after, like she hopes you didn’t notice.

You did.

She’s staring at you now, her eyes darting from your face to the ground and back again, like she’s calculating something. Her bottom lip is caught between her teeth, and you can see her mentally psyching herself up.

“Leah,” you say, and her name comes out softer than you mean it to.

“Yeah?” she asks, her voice barely above a whisper.

“You’re overthinking again”

Her cheeks flush, but she doesn’t deny it. “I’m not—”

“You are”

“I just—” She stops, exhales sharply, and then blurts, “Can I kiss you?”

You blink, surprised by her directness despite the stuttering lead-up. “Took you long enough to ask”

Her eyes widen slightly, and for a second, you think she might combust on the spot. Then she takes a step closer, her hands still firmly in her pockets, and you can feel the tension rolling off her in waves.

You lean up slightly, closing the gap between you. “Leah, I’m not going to bite”

Her breath hitches, and then she moves, dipping her head down until her lips brush yours in the lightest, softest kiss. It’s tentative at first, like she’s waiting for you to pull away, but when you don’t, she relaxes, her hand finally coming up to cup your jaw.

When you pull back, her cheeks are bright red, but she’s grinning like she’s just won the lottery. “Was that—was that okay?” she asks, her voice breathy.

You laugh, wrapping your arms around her neck. “Okay? Leah, that was better than the tiramisu”

“Wow,” she says, her grin widening. “High praise”

“Don’t let it go to your head,” you tease, tugging her down for another kiss.

This time, she doesn’t hesitate.

#leah williamson #leah williamson x reader #woso #woso x reader

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strnilolover · 24 hours ago

Text

NNN - chris sturniolo - long distances

You and Chris had been together for a little over a year, content with one another and the company each of you had to bring.

Before hand — you were good friends, best friends to be exact. Not with just him, but with his brothers too, and it was nice to know nothing really changed after putting a label on the two of you.

Chris and his brothers were already in their filming career when you had gotten together — making videos and posting them twice a week for their fan base that was already growing so large within a short amount of time.

Though, one day, while cuddled up with chris on your couch at your home — he broke the news to you.

He was moving to LA with Matt and Nick. Having already made enough money to afford a nice little place there. It was shocking to hear, and at first you were upset — upset with the fact you couldn’t see him everyday and you wouldn’t be around him when you needed him or wanted him.

But, the upset had been replaced with excitement over time. Thinking of all the possibilities for Chris and how amazing it was that he was able to do this with his brothers. And of all the stories you would be able to hear about his new life in a busy and bustling city.

When the day had finally come for him to move — it was spent with tears and hugs and promises to one another that everything would be okay.

And for the most part it was, you called every night — texted each other too many times through out the day and stayed connected. But, at some point things started to change. Chris grew more busy with work and with his clothing line he was starting, and the absence made you feel empty. Like he wasn’t even really there.

There were less calls, more messages being left on read or delivered — but Chris at least would tell you when he was busy and couldn’t talk, which you appreciated.

Eventually, everything began to weigh down on you. And you needed to tell him — needed to let him know how you were feeling. That you were having doubts.

Your room was quiet except for the faint hum of your laptop. Chris’ face filled the screen, his familiar features bathed in the soft light of his LA room. He looked tired, his curls messier than usual and his celtics hoodie hanging loosely on his frame. You tried to ignore the hollow ache in your chest as you smiled at him.

“How was your day?” you asked, forcing a casual tone as your eyes looked around your screen, taking in the view you’ve seen hundreds of times already.

Chris shrugged, leaning back against his chair. “Same as usual. Filmed with Nick and Matt, ran some errands. We tried this new sushi place for dinner. It was good, but, uh… not as good as Boston sushi.”

You let out a soft laugh, even though it stung a little. “Boston sushi is definitely better. How’s the apartment coming along?” you asked — a question that would slip here and there.

Chris shrugged slightly. “Fine, I guess. Still trying to figure out where to put everything. Matt thinks we need more stuff on the walls, but Nick keeps saying we don’t. It’s a whole thing.” He gave a faint smile, his voice lacking its usual warmth. “What about you? How was work?”

“Busy,” you said simply, picking at the edge of your blanket. “Came home, made dinner… I made too much again. I keep forgetting I’m just cooking for one now.” you admitted. Being so used to his presence all the time, you often made dinner for two people — it was still a hard adjustment.

Chris’ smile faltered, guilt flashing in his eyes. “I’m sorry,” he said softly.

You shook your head quickly, brushing it off. “It’s not your fault. I just need to get used to it still — even if it’s been a little.”

The conversation then faded into silence, and for a moment, all you could hear was the faint rustle of Chris adjusting his laptop. He looked away, his jaw tense, and you felt the words building in your chest — words you’d been too scared to say for weeks right on the tip of your tongue.

It was now or never.

“Chris,” you began hesitantly, your voice barely above a whisper. “Can we… uhm - can we talk about us?” the words slipping past your lips felt like a burn on your own tongue.

His gaze snapped back to you, his expression guarded. “What about us?”

You hesitated, the lump in your throat making it hard to speak. “I just… I feel like things have been different lately. At first, we were doing so well — texting all the time, FaceTiming every night. But now… I don’t know. It feels like we’re drifting apart.”

Chris’s brows furrowed at your words, his shoulders visibly tensing. “I’ve noticed it too,” he admitted after a pause. “I just didn’t know how to bring it up. I didn’t want to make things worse.”

You blinked, surprised by his honesty. “You didn’t think I’d feel the same?”

“I don’t know,” he said, running a hand through his curls. “I didn’t want to say anything and make you think I was doubting us or something. And I’m not. I love you. But this…” He gestured vaguely, his hand moving between him and the screen. “This is hard. Harder than I thought it’d be.”

The crack in his voice made your heart ache, but you nodded, tears stinging the corner of your eyes. “It is hard. I miss you so much, Chris. Some nights, it’s all I can think about — how empty this place feels without you here. And then I start wondering… what if we can’t do this? What if it’s too much?”

Chris’s eyes widened slightly, his panic evident. “Wait, are you saying you want to—”

“No!” you interrupted quickly, shaking your head. “No — Chris, that’s not what I mean. I just… I don’t know how to fix this. And I hate feeling like we’re not as close as we used to be.”

Chris let out a slow breath, his shoulders slumping. “I feel the same way,” he said quietly. “I hate that I can’t just drive over and see you when you’ve had a bad day. I hate that I can’t be there to hold you. And honestly… sometimes, I feel like I’m letting you down.”

“You’re not,” you said firmly, leaning closer to the screen. “Chris, you’re doing the best you can. We both are. But we need to be honest with each other if we’re going to make this work.”

He nodded slowly, his jaw tightening as he processed your words. “You’re right. I’ve been holding back because I didn’t want to make things worse, but… I guess that’s only made things harder. I’ve missed you so much, and it’s been killing me not to tell you how much I’ve been struggling with this.”

Tears now spilled down your cheeks, and you wiped them away quickly with your sleeve. “I’ve been struggling too. And I was scared to tell you because… what if it made you think I didn’t believe in us anymore? I do, Chris. I love you so much. I just… I didn’t know how to deal with all of this on my own.”

His expression softened, and he leaned closer to the camera, his voice gentle. “You don’t have to deal with it alone, okay? We’re in this together. And if that means being brutally honest about how much this sucks sometimes, then that’s what we’ll do.”

You laughed softly through your tears, nodding. “Deal. And… maybe we can try to plan our visits better. I need to see you, Chris. I think that’ll help a lot.” you whispered, feeling yourself ease up a little at the thought of him here — with you.

His lips quirked into a small smile. “Funny you should say that… I’ve been looking at flights to Boston. I was going to surprise you, but… maybe we need this sooner rather than later. I’ll come next month. No excuses.”

“Really?” you asked, your heart swelling with hope.

“Really,” he said, his smile growing. “I need to hold you again. And I’ll do whatever it takes to make this work.”

A weight lifted from your chest, and you smiled for what felt like the first time in weeks. “I’ll hold you to that,” you teased, your voice lighter.

Chris chuckled, the sound warming your heart. “I love you. And no matter how hard this gets, I’m not giving up on us. Ever.”

“I love you too,” you said softly. “And I promise… I’ll do everything I can to make this work too.”

It wasn’t a perfect solution, but it was a start. The rest of the night felt lighter — the ache in your chest still present but less. You both were more cheerful — joking around about random things and teasing him about how his hair was too messy — along with his room.

You smiled at your screen, watching as Chris did the same. His hand coming up to his lips and blowing you a kiss through the screen — and you blushed.

You’re just hoping that whatever was said tonight…was going to stick.

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daisymbin · 3 days ago

Note

10. "do you ever think about us like… as more than friends?" With Joshuaa pls<3<3<<3 and female

of course!!! 🤍

request your own: full prompt list!

check out my masterlist! // shua's m.list

fluff prompt #10: "do you ever think about us like... as more than friends?"

it was quiet in the living room, the kind of quiet that felt rare. the only sounds were the soft hum of the heater and the occasional rustle of your blanket as you shifted on the couch. joshua sat at the other end, his legs stretched out, one arm draped casually over the back of the sofa.

he tried to focus on the movie playing on the tv, but his attention kept wandering. the way your head rested against the cushion, the way your lips curved ever so slightly when something funny happened on screen—even when you weren’t looking at him, you managed to pull his thoughts in your direction.

he didn’t even know when it started. maybe it was the way you always remembered the little things, like how he liked his coffee or which songs he couldn’t resist humming along to. maybe it was the way you laughed, so genuine and bright, it felt like sunshine.

whatever it was, it had been consuming him for months, this question that he couldn’t shake.

“you okay?” your voice broke through his thoughts, soft and warm, pulling him back to the present.

he realized he’d been staring. again.

“yeah,” he said quickly, sitting up straighter. “just... thinking.”

you raised an eyebrow, tilting your head to look at him fully. “about what?”

he hesitated. this was it. he could feel his heart pick up speed, a dull thud against his ribs.

“about us,” he said finally, his voice quieter than he intended.

you blinked, surprise flickering across your face. “us?”

“yeah.” he rubbed the back of his neck, suddenly feeling like every word needed to be chosen carefully. “do you ever think about us... like, as more than friends?”

the question hung in the air, delicate and unspoken for far too long. he couldn’t tell what you were thinking—your expression was unreadable, your eyes searching his face like you were trying to piece together a puzzle.

he felt his chest tighten. maybe he shouldn’t have said anything. maybe—

“sometimes,” you said softly, your voice barely above a whisper.

he froze. “really?”

you nodded, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your blanket. “i mean, yeah. it’s hard not to, you know? you’re kind of... you.”

his brows furrowed. “what does that mean?”

you let out a nervous laugh, finally meeting his gaze. “it means you’re sweet, and thoughtful, and you always know how to make people feel comfortable. and you just... have this way of making everything better. it’s hard not to think about it sometimes.”

joshua felt his heart swell at your words, warmth spreading through his chest. he hadn’t expected you to say that—not so openly, not so honestly.

“i didn’t think you’d say yes,” he admitted, his lips curving into a shy smile.

you tilted your head, curiosity lighting up your features. “why not?”

“i don’t know,” he said with a soft laugh. “maybe because i was scared you didn’t feel the same way.”

“and now?”

his smile widened, his confidence building with every second that passed. he shifted closer to you, closing the space between you just enough to feel your warmth.

“now i’m wondering if i can ask you out without it being weird,” he said, his voice light but filled with meaning.

your laughter rang out, soft and genuine, and he felt like he could listen to it forever.

“i think you can,” you replied, a playful glint in your eyes.

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

he leaned in a little more, his knee brushing against yours. “would you say yes?”

“probably.”

“just probably?”

you rolled your eyes, but the smile on your face was undeniable. “fine, definitely.”

his grin turned into a full laugh, the kind that made his eyes crinkle at the corners.

“good,” he said softly, his hand reaching out to tuck a loose strand of hair behind your ear. his fingers lingered for a moment, his touch warm against your skin. “because i’ve been wanting to ask for a while now.”

you leaned into his touch, your smile softening. “took you long enough.”

he chuckled, feeling a weight he didn’t even know he’d been carrying finally lift.

“better late than never,” he said, and this time, it was his turn to stare.

you didn’t look away.

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runariya · 3 days ago

Note

not sure if you're taking prompts anymore, but here's my prompt request! if you are not doing them, please feel free to ignore!

🤪🪄👑 – jk and oc/reader are fairies. every year, the fairies hold a ball where the newly turned of age fairies showcase their qualities. during her turn, oc gets messy with her magic, and she ends up making hilarious wrong moves. however, she becomes the mvp when her clumsy magic helps the guard fairies catch an imposter, making fairy prince jk very impressed.

have a good day/night! 🌸

(crack+fantasy+royal) part of the prompt game pairing: fairy prince!Jungkook x fairy!female reader genre: fantasy!AU, S2L, fluff warnings: none word count: 1.210

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You loathe the annual Fairy Ball. It’s all glitter and expectations, prancing around in ridiculous outfits, hoping to impress some snooty elder or, heaven forbid, a prince. And as fate would have it, you’ve finally hit the ripe age of fairy adulthood, so now you’re obligated to showcase your qualities. Because fairies can’t just live their lives in peace; oh no, you’ve got to prove your worth in front of the entire magical kingdom.

You’re currently hiding in the farthest corner of the grand ballroom, nibbling on some fairy cake, which you think tastes suspiciously like glitter and disappointment, while trying to appear invisible. The ballroom is nauseatingly beautiful, with its floating chandeliers and enchanted foliage that sings in harmony. Everyone else is shimmering and twinkling like they’ve just stepped out of a fairy fashion magazine. Meanwhile, you’re trying not to choke on your nerves and the one slightly burnt cupcake you nicked from the refreshments table.

“Next up! ___!” The announcer’s cheerful voice rings out, and your heart plummets to somewhere near your sparkly pumps.

You freeze. Oh no. Oh no, no, no. This is it. Your turn. You’ve been dreading this moment for weeks, practising magic tricks in your tiny mushroom-shaped home, only to set things on fire, or worse, accidentally summon a squirrel that now refuses to leave your bathroom.

You’re not ready.

But then again, when are you ever ready for public humiliation?

Dragging your reluctant self to the middle of the ballroom, you avoid the gazes of hundreds of expectant fairies. You think you see someone stifle a laugh. Excellent. You haven’t even done anything yet, and the ridicule’s already starting.

And there you spot him. Prince Jungkook. All golden wings and dark, glimmering eyes, sitting on his annoyingly fancy throne at the head of the room. He looks disinterested, twirling some kind of royal goblet in his hand, but you know he’s watching. Everyone’s watching, so why wouldn’t he.

“Go on,” the announcer encourages. “Show us your magic!”

Oh, you’ll show them magic, all right. You’ve been practising one spell over and over, and it’s practically foolproof. The plan is to conjure a beautiful, shimmering butterfly, classic, elegant, and safe. A butterfly can’t possibly go wrong, can it?

You take a deep breath, close your eyes, and mutter the incantation under your breath. You feel a warm flicker of magic build in your palms. Yes, this is it. You’ve got this. You can do this.

You open your eyes, ready to unveil your masterpiece.

Except…

What’s in front of you is not a butterfly. It’s… well, it’s a blob. A wriggling, glowing blob that looks like it’s having an identity crisis. Is it a butterfly? Is it a fish? Is it just pure existential dread in magical form? Who knows. You don’t.

The room bursts into laughter. Of course. And you feel your cheeks heating up to a shade that could rival a flamingo.

“That’s… unique,” the announcer comments after a beat, trying to sound polite but failing miserably with his suppressed snicker.

“Uh, wait, wait! That’s not all!” you squeak, waving your hands in panic. Maybe you can salvage this. Maybe you can turn the blob into something respectable, like a flower or…oh, for fairy’s sake, anything else.

But your magic has other plans. Before you can say “sparkles,” the blob explodes into a cloud of glitter. And not the nice, floaty kind. This is aggressive glitter. Sticky, clumpy, and raining down on everyone within a ten-foot radius, including Prince Jungkook.

You hear a collective gasp. Somewhere in the crowd, someone whispers, “She glitter-bombed the prince!”

Oh, brilliant. Just brilliant. You’re officially the laughingstock of the century.

You’re about to apologise profusely, or possibly faint, when something strange happens. A figure near the prince suddenly jerks, as though they’ve been struck by lightning. Their glamour magic flickers for a split second, revealing…

Wait. That’s not a fairy. That’s a goblin.

The room erupts into chaos. Fairies are screaming, guards are rushing forward, and you? You’re just standing there, utterly gobsmacked, as your accidental glitter-bomb continues to wreak havoc.

The imposter goblin tries to flee, but slips on the glitter coating the floor and guards seize him in seconds. It’s absolute pandemonium, and in the middle of it all, Prince Jungkook rises from his throne, his dark eyes fixed on you.

“Silence!” he commands, and the room instantly quiets. Especially when he steps forward, glitter still clinging to his wings and his perfectly chiselled jaw.

“You,” he points at you.

You gulp. This is it. He’s going to banish you. Or worse, sentence you to a lifetime of cleaning up glitter in the palace.

“That was…” He pauses, debates. “Brilliant.”

Wait, what?

“Uh, excuse me?” you blurt out, because surely you misheard him.

“Your magic,” he waves around leisurely, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “It exposed the imposter. No one else noticed, not even the guards.”

Oh. Oh. You did that. With your clumsy, terrible magic. Huh.

The crowd is murmuring now and you think you hear someone say, “She’s a genius,” which is objectively hilarious because you definitely did not intend to do anything remotely heroic.

Prince Jungkook steps closer, and suddenly he’s right in front of you, towering and annoyingly perfect. You want to say something clever, but your brain has apparently turned into fairy pudding.

“What’s your name?”

“Uh…___,” you stammer, feeling like you might spontaneously combust under his gaze.

“Well, ___,” he slightly bows his head, his voice low enough that only you can hear, “I think you’ve just saved the entire Fairy Kingdom.”

Before you can process that ridiculous statement, he turns to the crowd and raises a hand. “Fairies of the kingdom, let us celebrate this year’s unexpected hero!” His eyes flicker back to you, and he adds with a grin, “And my personal favourite fairy of the evening.”

Your jaw drops. Literally.

The crowd cheers. Actual cheering. For you. You’re half convinced you’re hallucinating at this point.

And then, because apparently your life isn’t surreal enough already, Prince Jungkook kneels. He kneels. In front of you.

“___,” he husks your name, loud enough for everyone to hear. “Would you do me the honour of joining me for dinner tomorrow evening?”

You blink. Your brain is trying to catch up, but it’s like a broken wand sparking uselessly. “You’re… asking me out?” you manage to squeak.

“Yes,” he grins simply, as if it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

The room is deathly silent. Every fairy is holding their breath, waiting for your answer.

And honestly, what are you supposed to say? ‘No, sorry, I’m busy glitter-bombing other royals’? Of course not.

“I…uh…yes?” you squeak, though it comes out more like a question than a statement.

Jungkook laughs, and it’s so dazzling you’re surprised you don’t faint. “Perfect,” he stands and offers you his hand.

As the crowd erupts into unexpected applause and cheers, you take his hand, still half-convinced this is some elaborate prank. But then he leans closer and whispers, “By the way, the glitter? Best thing that’s happened all night.”

You glance at him, startled, and see nothing but sincerity and amusement in his eyes.

Maybe the Fairy Ball isn’t so bad after all.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

If you liked what you read, pls consider buying me a ☕️ Ko-fi.com/runariya 💕

Like what you read? Check out my other work here!

permanent taglist: @runariyaluvr , @closer-to-jungkook , @dreamcatcherluvr , @blueofocean, @https-mei, @xsyruhh , @nemelkawar , @joonlover1207 , @elinaki92

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hoonven · 10 hours ago

Text

IS IT NEW YEARS YET?

1.2K ⸺ a christmas hater and a christmas lover find themselves in the kitchen of a cozy apartment, trading sarcasm, small talk, and maybe a little more

PAIRING! yang jungwon x female reader

GENRES! fluff, comedy, frenemies trope

PLAYLIST! is it new years yet? by sabrina carpenter

WARNINGS! reader doesn't like christmas, reader drinks cocoa

December is a prison.

Everywhere you look, someone is trying to shove some holiday cheer down your throat. You hate it. The blinding, glittering lights and tinny jingles that cause a headache trying way too hard to convince you that this is the most wonderful time of the year.

The relentless cheer, the endless loop of Mariah Carey in every store, the corny hallmark movies, inflatable Santas, and people pretending eggnog is drinkable and fruitcake is edible. You don’t buy it. For you, December is just another month to survive, one suffocating under an avalanche of forced cheer and bad decisions disguised as tradition. The music, the sweaters, the increase of whining children—it’s all too much.

Yet here you are, trapped in a Christmas Eve party that feels more like a hostage situation. You’d planned on staying home with a glass of wine and a movie that didn’t feature talking reindeer or falling snow, but your friend—if you can even call her that—insisted. And because you have a masochistic streak, or maybe just a lack of willpower, you showed up.

You’ve stationed yourself in the kitchen, it’s quieter here, a sanctuary compared to the crowded living room packed with people you barely know, all laughing too loudly and swapping gifts you’re certain will end up in a landfill by February.

You’ve been hiding out here for the past twenty minutes, nursing a drink and hoping no one will notice your absence. Arms crossed, leaning against the counter, glaring at the glittery centerpiece on the table like it personally offended you, and your expression screams don’t talk to me.

“Well, if it isn’t our resident holiday killjoy.”

You don't have to look to know who it is. The voice is unmistakable—light, teasing, and annoyingly smug.

Jungwon.

You glance at him anyway, because ignoring him won’t make him go away.

He’s leaning against the doorway, his ridiculous Christmas sweater somehow managing to look good on him. It’s got a snowman with googly eyes, and you want to hate it, but the worst part is you don’t. His grin is as infuriating as always—bright, mischievous, and unbothered, his eyes sparkling with amusement as he takes in your miserable expression.

“And here I thought you were too busy decking the halls to notice me,” you reply, your voice dripping with sarcasm.

He smirks, stepping into the kitchen like he owns the place. “Oh, I noticed you. You’re kind of hard to miss when you’re the only person in this joint giving off Scrooge energy.”

“I’m not giving off Scrooge energy,” you snap, though you are. “I’m avoiding unnecessary human interaction, which, by the way, you’re currently ruining.”

Jungwon doesn’t take the hint. He never does. Instead, he grabs a cookie off the counter, takes a bite, and leans casually against the counter next to you. “So, what’s the escape plan? Gonna fake a tummy ache or claim you have to leave early because of some elaborate story you clearly just made up?”

You decide not to admit it was the latter, the last thing you need tonight is to prove Jungwon right.

“I was thinking of just walking out,” you say dryly. “No excuses. Just leave.”

He snorts. “Bold move. Very on-brand for you.”

Finally, you turn to face him, narrowing your eyes. “Why are you here, Jungwon? Don’t you have some caroling to do or a snowman to build?”

He grins, unfazed by your sarcasm. “Oh, I’ve already done both. I'm here to check on you, you know, like Cindy Lou Who did for the Grinch?”

“Your heart is two sizes too small,” he says, and proceeds to make the dumbest sad face you've ever seen.

You try to fight the tiny smile tugging at your lips but fail. Jungwon notices, of course, because he notices everything.

“See? I knew you didn't hate Christmas that much,” he says, triumphantly.

You sigh, crossing your arms. “I don’t hate it. I just don’t see the point. It’s loud, obnoxious, and overrated.”

“Or,” he counters, gesturing toward the living room, where people are laughing and exchanging gifts by a sparkling tree. “It's about that.”

You raise an eyebrow, skeptical. But there's a slight tug at your heartstrings as you watch a girl hug her friend with tears pricking her eyes. “What exactly are we looking at?”

He tilts his head, studying you with that irritatingly perceptive gaze of his. “You know, you’re like a walking anti-Christmas PSA. It’s impressive, really.”

You roll your eyes. “And you’ve clearly auditioned for Santa’s favorite elf.”

“Wrong. I’m more of a ‘holiday mischief maker,’” he says, wiggling his eyebrows. “And right now, my mission is to annoy you with all the holiday cheer I can possibly muster.”

You glare at him, but there’s no real heat behind it. The worst part is, Jungwon is so annoyingly persistent and unshakably optimistic that part of you almost envies him. Almost.

“It's nice.” you shrug. “But not everyone thinks this season is magical, you know.”

“Ah, I see. You’re one of those people who hates Christmas because it never lives up to the hype.”

You pause, caught off guard by how easily he’s summed you up. “It’s not about the hype,” you say finally, avoiding his gaze. “It’s about how empty it all feels. Everyone’s running around acting like this one day is supposed to fix everything, but it doesn’t. We’ll all go back to our regular lives the next day like none of it ever happened.”

He doesn’t respond right away, and for a second, you think you’ve actually managed to scare him off. But then he leans closer, his voice softer now, less playful. “You know what I think? I think you’re trying so hard not to care that you’ve forgotten how to let yourself enjoy the small stuff.”

You blink at him, thrown by the sudden sincerity in his tone. “And you’re suddenly the expert on what I need?”

“Not an expert,” he says, his grin returning. “Just observant.”

He gestures toward the party again. “Look, I get it. The holidays can be a lot. But they can also be kind of great, if you let them. Like right now—this could be one of those moments you look back on, and it’s not about the decorations or the music. It’s just… people. Being together. Isn’t that worth something?”

You arch an eyebrow. “Do you hear yourself right now? You sound like a Hallmark movie character.”

“And you sound like someone who’s never actually tried to enjoy Christmas,” he shoots back, smirking.

You snort, shaking your head. “I can't believe people really believe all that.”

“Well, I do.” He holds up his cookie like a toast. “And by the end of the night, I’m betting I’ll convince you too.”

“Well, don’t hold your breath,” you say, reaching for the mug of cocoa that was surprisingly still warm and taking a sip. It’s too sweet, just like everything else tonight, but somehow, with Jungwon standing there, it doesn’t feel quite as unbearable.

And for a moment, you let yourself enjoy it.

“Don’t worry,” he says with a wink. “I’m patient.”

“Good luck with that,” you mutter, but there’s a faint smile tugging at the corner of your lips now, one you can’t quite suppress.

Jungwon notices, of course. He always does. You imagine he always will. And as much as you hate to admit it, you’re kind of glad he came into the kitchen.

December was a bore, and you were sick and tired of this holiday, but small talk in the kitchen with Yang Jungwon wasn't half bad.

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extinctlesspains · 1 day ago

Note

Uhmmm you can’t just post sensei wolf and not put out a fic 😭🤚 pretty please ma’am he’s to hot to not have one

A/n: IKKK I'VE BEEN LOOKING FOR IDEAS FOR HIM AND I FINALLY GOT SOME 😭😭

𝑀𝑜𝑟𝑒 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑛 𝑇ℎ𝑎𝑡: 𝑆𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑖 𝑊𝑜𝑙𝑓

𝐵𝑦 𝑒𝑥𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑐𝑡𝑙𝑒𝑠𝑠𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑛𝑠

»»——⍟——««

𝑃𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: 𝑆𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑖 𝑊𝑜𝑙𝑓 𝑥 𝑆𝑒𝑛𝑠𝑒𝑖! 𝑅𝑒𝑎𝑑𝑒𝑟

𝐺𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: 𝑎𝑛𝑔𝑠𝑡 𝑤𝑖𝑡ℎ 𝑓𝑙𝑢𝑓𝑓

𝑆𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: 𝑌𝑜𝑢 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑤𝑜𝑙𝑓 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑎𝑙𝑤𝑎𝑦𝑠 ℎ𝑎𝑑 𝑎 𝑑𝑖𝑓𝑓𝑖𝑐𝑢𝑙𝑡 𝑟𝑒𝑙𝑎𝑡𝑖𝑜𝑛𝑠ℎ𝑖𝑝. 𝑂𝑛𝑒 𝑑𝑎𝑦 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑒𝑣𝑒𝑟𝑦𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔 𝑎𝑛𝑑 𝑡ℎ𝑒 𝑛𝑒𝑥𝑡, 𝑦𝑜𝑢 𝑐𝑎𝑛 𝑚𝑒𝑎𝑛 𝑛𝑜𝑡ℎ𝑖𝑛𝑔.

𝑊𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠:𝐹𝑖𝑔ℎ𝑡𝑖𝑛𝑔, 𝑢𝑠𝑒 𝑜𝑓 𝑌/𝑛.

■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■■□■□■□■□■

The Sekai Taikai tournament was alive with the sounds of determination—punches landing, kiais echoing, feet pivoting on the mats. The air held the scent of sweat and effort, but beneath the surface, an unspoken tension simmered. You felt it in every sideways glance, every lingering silence between you and Sensei Wolf.

The rivalry on the mat wasn’t the only battle being fought.

You paced the perimeter of the building, correcting stances, offering encouragement, pushing your students harder than usual. Their success in the Sekai Taikai was non-negotiable, and you couldn’t afford distractions. Especially not him.

Wolf mirrored your movements on the other side of the room, his voice cutting through the air as he barked commands at his own team. The intensity in his eyes, the unwavering authority—it was the same confidence that had once drawn you in, before everything fell apart.

Memories pressed at the edges of your mind: late-night training sessions that turned into shared confessions, quiet moments of understanding, and then... the fallout. Harsh words, misunderstandings, pride. It was easier to pretend none of it mattered, but each passing day made that facade harder to maintain.

When the session ended, the students filed out, their chatter fading into the evening air. You stayed behind in the training room. , running through drills alone, the rhythmic movements a welcome distraction. But you felt his presence before you saw him.

“You don’t have to stay late every night.”

You didn’t turn around. “Neither do you.”

Wolf’s footsteps were soft but deliberate as he approached. He stopped a few feet away, the silence stretching like a taut wire between you. Finally, he spoke, his voice low but steady.

“I messed up.”

The words hung in the air, unexpected and heavy. You turned to face him, arms crossed. “Is that supposed to mean something?”

He met your gaze, eyes searching yours for a flicker of the understanding you used to share. “It’s not supposed to mean something. It does.” He hesitated, then continued, his voice softer. “I’ve been thinking a lot about what happened... between us. I didn’t handle it right.”

A bitter laugh escaped your lips. “That’s an understatement.”

Wolf sighed, running a hand through his hair. “Look, I’m not too proud to say it—I’m sorry. I let my ego get in the way. I thought I had all the answers, but I didn’t.”

You wanted to hold on to your anger, to the walls you’d built around yourself, but his words chipped away at him.

“Why now, Wolf?” Your voice was quieter than you intended. “What’s changed?”

He took a step closer, the vulnerability in his eyes catching you off guard. “Everything. This tournament, these kids... they need us. And I need...” He trailed off, the words hanging between you. “I can’t do this without you.”

Your heart clenched. There it was—the raw honesty you hadn’t seen in so long. “You think saying sorry fixes everything?”

He shook his head. “No. But it’s a start.”

The training room felt smaller, the space between you shrinking. Memories of what you’d built together, both on and off the mat, flooded back. The arguments, yes, but also the laughter, the trust, the shared dream of making these kids stronger than either of you had ever been.

“I don’t know if I can just forget, Wolf.”

He nodded, understanding in his eyes. “I’m not asking you to forget. I’m asking for a second chance—to prove that I’ve changed. That we can fix this.”

Silence stretched again, but this time it felt different—softer, filled with possibility. You studied him, the sincerity in his eyes, the weight of the words he wasn’t saying. Finally, you sighed.

“One chance, Wolf. Don’t waste it.”

A rare, genuine smile broke across his face. “I won’t.”

As you both stood there, the tension between you shifted, the first cracks appearing in the walls you’d both built. It wasn’t a perfect resolution, but it was a start—a fragile truce built on hope and shared history.

The real fight was just beginning, but for the first time in a long time, you didn’t feel like you were facing it alone.

#cobra kai #cobra kai x reader #karate kid #karatekidxreader #miguel diaz #robby keene #daniel larusso #kwon cobra kai #johnny lawrence #kwon jae sung #sensei wolf cobra kai #sensei wolf #sensei wolf x reader

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turquoizxe · 18 hours ago

Text

𝐃𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐄𝐤𝐤𝐨

Ekko x Fem!Reader

content ― drabble/hc; fluff, mentions of Scar, reader has tattoos

author's note ― I love Ekko, that is all, moving forward, also I think I'm starting to like making drabbles/headcanons; I be locked in like a mf, and thank you for all the love on my previous drabble of Ekko!

wc ― 0.725k

Ekko's exterior was a tough shell to crack

But once you broke through it, there was no going back

He was closed off, for many good reasons, letting the walls he built come crashing down when with you was one of the hardest things he's ever done

It took what felt like eons to build this trust, but he wasn't sure if seeing a future with anyone was possible

He didn't want to get his hopes up

He had admired your patience and drive, hence why he adores you deeply

Dating Ekko felt like a dream, he felt like an entirely different person when his guard was down

While that's expected, you just couldn't believe that this is the same man running a Rebellion

And you wouldn't if you hadn't known him as long as you did

You had worked hard to earn his affection, just as he did to earn yours

What he took to get you, he used to keep you

The small trinkets he'd built, especially when he would get ready for missions, and he wasn't sure if he'd be back the same day

The community he had built had also learned to trust you, he involved you constantly in the development of the community

You were beyond terrified of the ride he always stood on

When your days would require less labor, you often spent your leisure trying to ride it

You thought Ekko wouldn't know, but he secretly likes to watch you practice, holding in his laughs whenever you busted your ass

What really surprised him is how good your combat is

You often avoided confrontation and physical altercations, as you never thought it was necessary to open a can of whoop-ass if it could just be solved with a conversation

But if anyone were to swing at you, you sure do hit back..hard

It flusters him how well your form is, the way your muscles flex when you practice with him. You often took that to your advantage when sparring. You knew for sure you had him where you wanted if you just wore a tank top, showing your tattoos

He stutters when he sees your tattoos, like a lot

It actually embarrasses him, and you can tell

So you often wear clothes that cover them so he can focus lol

He also loves it when you give him scalp massages. You learned how to retwist his locs, and he didn't go to anyone else anymore after you perfected it

He still hasn't told you who the hell his barber is, he'll come back to your shared home with a fresh cut, and you go absolutely feral

He loves it and makes it known, constantly teasing you when you can't look him straight in the face

But he better hope he doesn't get a lineup when you're ovulating because his ass is yours for sure

He's not really a man for public displays of affection, as he often reserves it in the comfort of which others cannot see

If he ever does it in front of his crew, he's usually needy, but he usually reserves that for your eyes and ears only

Constant moaning and groaning if he would steal a kiss from you while you're working, or a gag whenever you held hands in front of them

It's all in good fun, I swear

Scar teased you about it the most, as he was Ekko's right-hand

He knew how Ekko felt about you before he did

And when Ekko didn't pry into your love life, Scar did it for him

Finding out what you liked, as Ekko never really thought about how to serenade you

He was always caught up in his work, he hadn't put any thought into it until he he did what he knew best and started making small trinkets for you

After you started dating, he didn't need to think about it as hard

It all started to feel natural to you. Falling in love with you was easy, loving you on purpose was the real challenge

Every thought, action, and consideration, it was intending to catch you

Lucky for him, the efforts were successful

He really didn't think in a million years he'd land such a wonderful person as you, but I assure you he thanks the gods every day for your love

― turquoizxe

#writeblr #fanfic #arcane #fanfiction #arcane ekko #ekko arcane #ekko x reader #ekko x you #arcane fanfic #fluff

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levandright · 1 day ago

Note

omg this is my first time doing one of these i’m sorry if my answers aren’t good 😭😭 i’m usually described as very hyper and funny by others, i’m very loyal and i try my best to be nice to others. i love reading and listening to music and watching romcoms. i’m a capricorn. my ideal type is somebody tall, kind, shy and quiet. i also love when they’re chaotic and hyper idk it’s a mix of both maybe??

my favourite trope would be like the boy next door trope and enemies to loves like mixed together but those two separately are also good !! my favourite season is winter and hobbies of mine are reading, writing poems, baking, and beauty related stuff like doing makeup (idk what else 😭)

i would like to be matched up with nct dream !! i’m sorry if the information is confusing once again <3 and congrats on 200 followers !!! 🫶🫶

FINDING YOUR MATCH...

MATCH FOUND! your match is... PARK JISUNG

JISUNG loves how energetic you are, your humor just matches his perfectly. you always have him laughing at one of your quick-witted jokes. being by your side he's albe to unleash his playful and cheeky side. often teasing you in lighthearted and affectionate way that sometimes leave you blushing.

JISUNG is easily able to match your energy when you're both alone, but when you're in a more public setting he easily gets shy. (he can't help it you know!) though he's shy in public doesn't mean he won't go out his comfort zone once a while to see your surprised expression ;). its worth the judging stares of single passerby's he thinks.

JISUNG and you have a tradition of having a snowball fight every winter time, often competing who'll hit the other more. you always win somehow. he's totally not letting your snowball hit him on purpose he says.

JISUNG loves loves building gingerbread houses with you <3 even if he always end up breaking something while making the gingerbread house, his gingerbread house often looking like an earthquake hit it with a 10.0 magnitude. which often times lead you to teasing him, sometimes he'll get all sad and pouty just to make you hug and comfort him(an evil mastermind he is…)

JISUNG wants to bake with you, but one time he almost burned your shared apartment down because he let the oven on for longer than the needed amount, you've banned him from touching the kitchen since (he says he won't do it again though, maybe you should give him another chance-)

JISUNG would let you practice your makeup skills on him, he'll just be staring at your face like some love sick puppy though, you often get flustered if you kept eye contact with him for more than 7 mins.

your custom playlist <3

✮ lev notes : TYSM!! dw it wasn't confusing <3 I HAD SO MUCH FUN WRITING YOUR MATCHUP hehe :33 hope you'll like the songs i choose for your playlist :D ✮ want to find your own match? apply here! curious about other matches?

#— ✮⋆˙ levandright 200 follower matchup ۶ৎ #۶ৎ LEV PLAYS MATCHMAKER 🎀#── .✦ matchup record ; entry 003 #— lovely won4kiss ✮#nct dream x reader #nct dream headcanons #nct dream imagines #nct dream fluff #matchup event #nct dream jisung #park jisung x reader #park jisung #jisung x reader #jisung fluff #nct dream x you

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junedenim · 21 hours ago

Text

wrap my head around it all

a whole new thing

warnings: it's just fluff

word count: 3k

You're eating a bagel. He's drinking a cup of coffee. There's an ache that's been relieved. It feels this way whenever he comes home and he's been home for a month now but he still feels just how good this is, looking across at you as you scarf down a bagel so quickly he fears you'll choke.

"It isn't going anywhere." He chuckles at his own joke. He's ashamed of himself, you don't have to tell him.

And you know that. You wipe your hands on a napkin and throw your head back with a groan. "I'm so hungry."

He grins. "Do you want me to get you another one?"

You hum in thought, taking your time like you're concentrating on solving world hunger. Then, you sigh, your shoulders slumping as your hands return to what remains of your bagel. "No. I'll spoil lunch."

He chuckles and rests his head in the palm of his left hand. His gaze is soft and relaxed, focused on you. "I hate to break it to you but we're way past noon. That is your lunch."

You whine and rub the cream cheese off the corners of your mouth. "Fine. Then, I'm spoiling dinner. How would your parents like it if I didn't eat anything?"

He laughs at your worry and picks up his cup of coffee, dragging a sip from it. "I think they'll understand. Plus, I highly doubt you won't be hungry by dinner time."

Your shoulders slump as you chew the remains of your bagel. "I know, it's dreadful. This constant state of hunger I've been forced into."

"We all appreciate it," Alex assures, hiding his amusement from your frustration. "At least you're not retching every 20 minutes."

You lean back in your chair and drop the dirty napkin with the rest of your bagel's trash. "Small favours, huh?"

"Do you want me to get you another one?" Alex offers again. His attentiveness to you has only grown through the years. Perhaps, now, it's at an all-time high. But he likes being able to take care of you. It's the least he can do.

You shake your head. "No, I'd like to walk around a little now." It's cold, windy, and slightly raining. People are rushing into the cafe from the cold, but you want to walk around in it. He supposes there is where you lose him but he'll tighten his coat, put on a hat, and slip on some gloves if it's what you want. Besides, if it'll stop you complaining about how hot the cafe is then he can't complain.

He fixes the askew hat on your head and opens the door for you. As you two walk down the street, he places his hands in his pockets, forming a loop of his arms. You slip your arm through it, tugging him close, brushing your side up against his. "It's going to rain all week," Alex comments on the weather patterns.

"I like it when it rains." You are smiling through the gloom. In that smile, there's a lifetime of love and it is so strange that it feels so normal for him to feel this way. It was never a gradual thing. It was sudden the first time you talked to one another and he felt that he could reach out to you and you would never push him away. Silver lining is cheesy but all that tension he builds throughout his life is somehow relieved in the glimmer of your teeth.

The mundanity is the craziest. Everything felt like it had to be a big show of things. He had to slick back his hair and play make-believe in every moment but now, it's a sigh of relief. To come home to someone—to come home to you and not have to play pretend anymore. To roll out of bed and not have to decide who to play today, instead, decide where to go for breakfast.

Maybe it's getting older, but he thinks it lies in learning the importance of caring for someone else. He always has with his friends and family and past girlfriends but there's something different here. It's him relinquishing himself to that, allowing you to look after him. To wake up and find you've made coffee or come home and find you've bought him a new shirt. It's simple. Doing the laundry, cooking dinner, grocery shopping. It's so dull but in fact the greatest thing ever. That feeling has only grown as of late.

"Where are we walking to?" He asks.

You shrug and look over at him. "I don't know. We could...window shop or...," you think, tapping your finger on your chin, "go to the park or—"

"In the rain?" He questions, an eyebrow raised.

You smile and lean closer to him. Something you know gets him all twisted up around your finger, and you are willing to do anything you decide. "Why not?"

"Because I don't want to," he reasons, but the grin is already playing on his lips and light chuckles ripple through him as your lips grow closer and closer until you're hovering over his.

"Fine," you decide, shocking him.

"Really?"

"Yeah. I'm cold," you declare. You cuddle closer to him all pouty. It's the way you've been as of late whether the cold of winter or your hormones. "Let's go baby shopping."

"Baby shopping?"

"Yeah, we haven't really done it yet and we could look for cute itty bitty baby clothes," you reason.

The baby is new. Or rather the pregnancy. It's the reason for dinner with his parents. It wasn't planned but it wasn't unplanned. You'd been together for years, married for two, and, well, you, him, and baby makes three.

You found out a couple of weeks ago. It's changed things for him with the whole caring thing. He's always cared, obviously, but now he finds himself interested in every little aspect of the pregnancy. He'd never thought he'd be that guy who reads the books and talks to your stomach (which you don't know about, he's too embarrassed to do it while you're awake), but things change and he'd never thought he'd be a father but here he is walking into a baby clothing store to buy clothes for his—well, your—baby.

He still hasn't processed the whole "baby" part of things. He knows there will be a baby but he can't yet imagine having the baby. You being pregnant doesn't even quite feel real yet. You're barely showing and he only feels it might be real when he talks to it. That feels weird to call it it. But he's tried calling it he or she but that's a mouthful. You don't like him calling it it so he started calling it names.

First, it was normal. "Mary," "John," "Elizabeth," "James," but you didn't like that either because the baby didn't have a name. The baby hasn't even developed that part of them yet. So, he calls it "tot," "bug," "pumpkin," and his personal favorite, "the fetus." You're not sure why but he makes him laugh. Maybe it's the boyish part of him that still thinks boobies are the coolest thing ever.

"Should we really buy clothes if we don't know the gender yet?" He asks as you search through the girlish items.

"A baby isn't modeling for the cover of Vogue. We just need to find an outfit to take the baby home in. A hat and a onesie." You pick up a cute pink one with little pink bows printed across it. "Look how cute and small this one is."

"What if it's a boy?"

You roll your eyes. "Real men wear pink, you know that better than anyone."

He chuckles. "Touché."

You point the onesie back and state, "Besides, we're probably going to have a girl anyway. My family is filled with girls."

"Well, my family has guys," Alex points out.

"What? You?" You laugh at him. "Yes, statistically your parents did have 100% guys."

"Shut up," he mutters as he comes closer and lands a kiss on you. There are the moments that count, that are embedded and embossed deep into his mind. They are small but mighty. It's right up there with shopping for a new shower curtain. It's stupid but it's real. Arguing over whether it should be flowers or ducks (he really wanted the ducks for some reason). You compromised with polka dots, not that that part matters much. It was more doing it with you. He doesn't know why other than it's fun and he loves you.

You move further down the aisle, looking through bees, princesses, and truck designs. "The baby will be born in August. What screams August to you?"

"Sweat," he replies.

"Be serious," you urge him, your eyes staring strongly at him. He can feel the pupil blaze through him like a laser.

"I am," he says, "I think of sweating, the heat, sun."

"Aw," you coo as a smile grows on your lips. "Cute little suns and if we have a son then it'll be like son and sun. Get it?"

He smiles down at you, struggling to process all of this. "Yeah, I get it." A son, a daughter, a child. It knocks him off his feet. He gets hit with these waves. It's nerves but it's also excitement. The idea that a baby will be in that small onesie. A part of him will be in the world, running off, getting into nonsense. He has a few years until that. Hopefully, he'll catch up by then.

You buy the onesie with suns on it and leave after that. There will be plenty of time to spend plenty more money at the store but for now, you head to the bookstore next door. It's small with aching floors and dusty shelves. You're just trying to kill time until dinner and this seems like a good place to start.

You drag him by hand to the children's book section because despite it being another few years until the baby can read, but you like the idea of reading to the baby every night, even if they can't understand a word of what you're saying. Between Madeline and The Giving Tree, you say, "You know, these are the last couple of months of our lives, it'll be just the two of us."

He picks up Curious George, distracting himself by looking through the pictures. "You say that like you want me to panic."

"No," you assure him, placing your hands on his shoulder, giving them a squeeze. "This is such a special time in our lives. We'll never experience something like this again. Shopping for our baby, nervous, scared, anxious, happy, excited. And I get to do it all with you."

He shakes his head and puts Curious George back on the shelf, turning to you. "You really have a gift."

"What?" You ask eagerly.

Alex takes your hands off his shoulders and squeezes them. "Nothing. You just always know how to make me feel better."

"I know it's hard for you to believe but it goes both ways. I'm panicking too, you know? I have to push a whole human being out of me."

"I know. How selfish am I to be the one who's scared."

"No. It's perfectly reasonable. It's a life-changing thing that'll cry, poop, pee, and spit all over you. I guess, I just take comfort in knowing I have you to hold my hand."

He takes a deep breath and tries to let the stress go. "You're going make me cry next to Harold and the Purple Crayon."

"Well, this is my way of guilting you into changing all the diapers so it works out pretty good."

Alex then gets carried away by a Batman Lego set and despite the knowledge that it can't be anywhere near a child until it's no longer a choking hazard. Perhaps, it's more for Alex than the baby. He doesn't get it because he doesn't want to carry it around for the rest of the day but he's not saying he won't come back for it.

You leave with Harold and the Purple Crayon for memory's sake. The rain has stopped but the wind is still cold and the pavement is soaked wet with puddles. You huddle close together once again.

Alex asks, "Are you cool with the whole giving birth thing?"

You laugh at him. "I don't have much of a choice. Why? Do you want to try?"

"If I could, I would."

"No, you wouldn't, but I appreciate the sentiment. Besides, it's kind of cool. A special thing that only I get to experience. I mean, the thing is growing in me, that's crazy but cool."

"Yeah, the tot is a part of you."

You hum. "I want french fries."

He smiles. "Okay. I could go for a burger."

Fast food being on every corner does have its conveniences. McDonald's is warm, separating you from the world's chill. "My mother had short labours. How long was your mother in labour for?"

"I don't know. You can ask her at dinner."

"I'm definitely getting an epidural. I don't care if it slows the process down. You know I'm in pain from just a headache. I wouldn't survive natural labour."

"Good thing for modern medicine."

"If it was the 1800s you could just give me a bunch of morphine and knock me out."

"I'll tell them to have some ready for you."

You sit in a booth that is mildly sticky but he'll ignore it if it'll ease your feet. He bought the large fries with the intention of it being shared between the two of you but instead, you take it for yourself. He enjoys his burger.

"We should have gotten a Happy Meal," you joke, dipping the fry into the ketchup pile.

He smiles because despite being freaked out 99% of the time, the 1%—the idea of doing things like this, buying a Happy Meal for his kid—outweighs it all. "Yeah, would've gotten a cool toy too."

"Well, as long as you eat your apple slices." You smile up at him and he blushes. He's been with you for so long and yet he still gets flushed under your gaze, lost in your eyes, falling in love over and over again. It's cheesy and cliche, but that doesn't make it untrue.

He steals a fry away and asks, "What should we name the tot?"

You shake your head. "No clue. Is it weird that that is what terrifies me the most?"

"No, they're going to carry it around with them for their whole life. It's the first major life decision we’ll make for them. Well, after, you know, making them."

You giggle at him with a mouthful of fries. "Yeah. If it's a boy should we name it after you?"

"God no." There doesn't need to be another Alex Turner in the world. That would make things far too confusing.

"What about for a middle name?"

"Nah, the kid is already getting my last name."

"Should we go away? Like a babymoon or whatever it's called?" You ask.

"Sure, if it's anything like our honeymoon." You went to Bora Bora. You didn't see much of Bora Bora. It was your hotel and the water pretty much of which Alex insisted on giving an equal show of things, which you'd be mildly embarrassed by if you weren't so turned on by it. Besides, you came back with no tan lines.

"Shut up," you wish upon him.

He laughs because he really is just a teenage boy who still finds sex to be funny. But it's a lovely sight to see with the crinkle by his eyes and the smile lines forming. You always like him like this. He can be moody and pensive a lot of the time. When he laughs, it feels like he fully lets go, if only for a moment.

"Where would we go?" He asks.

"A cottage in the woods or something. I don't know. I might be too pregnant to fly by the time we do it."

"You're going to be so cute with a belly."

"Please don't turn into some pregnancy fetishist, Alex," you warn him.

And, no, he won't be going up to pregnant women on the street and asking to touch their bellies but there is something inherently attractive about you being pregnant. It's probably some biological design.

"I can't help it if I want to fuck you."

"Alex!" You scold looking around the McDonald's in shame. Much wilder things have been said in places like this but you still turn red whenever he gets suggestive, especially in this vulgar way like some need has overtaken him and he needs to have you right now. Like he'll take you on the red paint-chipped table.

He chuckles and bites into his burger. So nonchalant in every way like nothing affects him. It's easy for him to be casual about these things. He's pretty sure a corner of his brain is thinking about things like that all the time. He's pretty sure he thinks of your boobs every night before bed and wakes up thinking about your ass. Again, he's pretty sure it's that inherent biological man thing.

"In a couple of months, you'll be so pumped full of hormones you'll want me to fuck you in the bathroom of this place."

You reach across the table and start smacking him but he just laughs more and more, getting a real kick of this. "Will you shut up?" Truthfully, you kind of want to go jump his bones now.

a/n: sigh, just a little something for now. trying to write more but my finals have been a bitch. but winter break is soon...

#alex turner fic #alex turner x fem!reader #alex turner x oc #alex turner x reader #alex turner x y/n #alex turner x you #alex turner #alex turner smut #junedenim

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melliemell · 4 hours ago

Text

Pairing: Dazai x f!reader

Contents: NSFW, car sex (unfortunately for Kunikida), breath play, dazai levels of whining, but he always gets what he wants doesn't he, Approx. 1.5k words

“Don’t even think about it,” you breathed, grinding your hips against Dazai’s. His mouth fell open, eyes fluttering shut as a moan left his lips before it turned into a strained laugh. Dazai guided your hand to his neck. He bit at your lower lip playfully, languid thrusts drawing out your pleasure with every deep stroke.

“Pretty please?” Dazai whispered to your ear, his lazy smile widening as your fingers grazed the bandages he always wrapped himself in. “I’ll be a real good boy about it.”

“You’ve been anything but for the last half-hour,” you retorted. “I’ll think about it.”

Dazai pouted, his trademark gaze of innocence returning. He knew how to get what he wanted; even if it required you to play this game of fetch every time. Instead, you ground your hips down, enjoying the friction of him bottoming out in you.

The parking lot was empty this late, keeping your undertakings pleasantly obscured under the roof of your car.

You weren’t meant to be here, precisely.

Nor Kunikida’s car– it was supposed to be back hours ago. But then again Dazai was ever the opportunist; why waste a perfectly good vehicle when you’ve already used it the whole day to spy on a client? Might as well give yourself a treat for a job well done.

Dazai brushed your hair to the side, teeth sinking into your soft skin. You couldn’t move much, your hips straddling Dazai’s and the steering wheel digging into your back with his every thrust. He was keeping you in place, not giving much of any opportunity even as you wriggled and panted against his lips.

Postponing your orgasm was becoming somewhat of a speciality of his, especially with how grumpy it got you the longer he played around. That was what he wanted, more often than not. Predicting your actions was easy, and knowing how far to push to reach your breaking point–

easier.

Then he might get what he wanted.

Your hands drew him closer, your focus waning as the pressure built up again. You weren’t going to let Dazai ruin this one too. Maybe it counted as giving in or perhaps you felt like you were taking control this time, but…

Delicate fingers trailed around Dazai’s neck, making him shudder the moment he realised what you were up to. He wanted it, of course. As much as it annoyed you how desperate he would get only to have your hands wrap around his throat, the pressure building with every second.

You knew he liked the thrill of it. The suicidal maniac in him was ecstatic–playing with life like that. You on the other hand felt your worry building every time he so much as looked at you with that pleading gaze. It was only a play, no real harm behind it.

Plenty of people were into breath play, and yet…it felt different.

It scared you, sometimes—just a bit.

“Change of heart?” Dazai’s eyes were hooded. He looked beautiful like this, flush all the way down his chest. His hand trailed up your thigh, gripping tightly.

“We make a deal?” you asked, arching forward. He was easy to bargain with, like this. “I do this, and you give me the best orgasm I’ve ever had? No half-assing here, Osamu.”

Dazai fluttered his lashes and his grin turned vicious. “I do as you please, oh great beauty of mine.” And you could only blink your eyes closed, hands wrapped around his neck in preparation.

Dazai raised you up suddenly, his cock slipping out of you.

“Wh-at?” you asked, grabbing into his shoulders for balance.

“I’m a fast worker, what can I say?” Dazai smirked.

His hand went to your entrance, drawing slow steady drags of his fingers against your wet pussy lips. The moment his fingers entered you, a shudder crawled up your spine.

You weren’t sure where he was going with this. His fingers made quick work, moving within your walls and twisting to your sweet spot often enough to make you dizzy. You almost forgot what you were meant to do with your hands.

“Fuck,” you said, trying to force your attention back into focus.

Dazai was looking at you, enjoying every second of it.

A few more strokes and his hand pulled away, only for his cock to enter you again, sudden and filling. Your thighs clenched around him, breath coming ragged. The fingers now covered in your wetness went to skilfully move over your clit, thumb rocking back and forth in time with Dazai’s every thrust.

You had to remind yourself to breathe, eyes back to Dazai’s face. He was watching you, head thrown back as a smirk tilted his lips. You could have been a sight to see for all you knew.

But that didn’t bother you.

You reached up, tracing his jawline with both hands before going lower. Dazai’s whole focus was on you, every detail engraving itself in his mind as you wrapped your hands around his neck.

Such delicate work under these circumstances wasn’t ideal. You felt Dazai try to swallow under your hands, the pressure barely there to distract him. But he knew this was only a warmup. It takes time for you to ease into it; this wasn’t the first time you were hesitant to do this.

Dazai’s cheeks reddened. Slowly, ever so slowly, your pressure increased, and you marvelled at the way Dazai moaned weakly from the sensation of literary being suffocated.

Dazai’s eyes fluttered shut, head thrown back as his hold on you waist tightened.

He was beautiful like this, so vulnerable and entirely at your mercy.

You tried to regulate, watching his every twitch and grunt for the air he lacked. You were bringing him to the brink only to relax just enough to get his bearings back together.

Your legs were trembling from the strain, seeing as Dazai’s trust became sporadic, trying to force out as much of his strength into fucking you. Your lower belly tingled with your release which was steadily building up.

Dazai’s thumb didn’t stop, his hand going down to your entrance to gather more of your wetness before coming back to stroke at your clit. You could barely breathe at this point.

Dazai looked at you, choked sounds falling from his open mouth even as his upper teeth bit into his lip. He was having the time of his life.

“Good boy.” You smiled, diving for a kiss as your hands squeezed firmer, swallowing Dazai’s whine as your tongue trailed inside his mouth. Saliva trickled down his chin, making him a bigger mess with every second.

You felt his legs spasm, the tension increasing. Your pussy clenched around him, just the way he liked before he was near.

You held him, not letting go even as his belly fluttered, twitching with every strain to push his orgasm forward. You forced him into the seat, Dazai’s neck bared prettily as you hovered over him, the sound of your kissing filling the air almost as much as his rapid trusts as he struggled to reach you.

“Come on, pretty boy. I’ve got you,” you panted against Dazai’s lips.

Pleasure seeped in, not suddenly this time, but a steady buildup of more more more–and you were cumming, cunt fluttering around his cock enough to force Dazai’s eyes open, staring wide at the rooftop as a pitiful moan vibrated right from his chest. You felt his cock twitch inside you a moment later, his spent shooting inside you, warm and thick.

You only loosened your hold on him when you were sure he was coming down from the high. Dazai’s head lolled to the side, eyes still closed as he breathed hard between coughs for air. He looked utterly exhausted, his face pale with overstrain. He barely had the strength to move, let alone slip out of you.

Not that you could help, flopping against his chest to breathe in his musky scent. The air around you was hot, almost foggy. Like in those sappy romance movies where the couple run away to their car to finally have some alone time.

Except this one wasn’t yours.

You pulled yourself back, reaching with a groan for your phone.

“Whatcha doin’?” Dazai asked, kissing at your shoulder. He looked so pretty as he blinked at you, face serene.

“Looking for a nearby car wash,” you said, forcing your eyes to the screen.

A silence before Dazai’s hearty laugh filled the space. You looked at him, eyebrow raised.

“Were you expecting something else?”

“Not in the slightest,” Dazai said, clearing a tear from his eye. He still smiled when he said, “Kunikida sure has a great friend in you.”

“In both of us.” You leaned in for a quick peck. “Seeing as we’ll be splitting the bill.”

Dazai groaned but it didn’t sound as sincere as he would’ve liked. He pulled you in close, pouting all the while as you pretended not to notice him. He got his way this time around, it’s not like he had much to complain about.

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silverynight · 1 day ago

Text

The selfish choice

Based on the first episode of act 3 s2. Contains spoilers

Jayce wakes up not precisely screaming, but scared. Maybe the explosion was a dream, but it felt terrifyingly real. Still, he needs to make sure the hexcore is alright, and figure out a way to destroy it.

But when he sits on the bed, he realizes the ceiling is not familiar to him. There's something weird about his body too, even though it looks the same, it's like he's wearing something that's not his even though he's naked under the sheets.

Why is he naked? Suddenly, a sharp pain in his temple makes him groan; flashes of the explosion fill up his mind as his own fingers run through his own hair, and he realizes it's longer... He also has a beard. He hasn't grow one in a long time, he's sure of it.

What's going on?

"Are you alright, Jayce? Did you have a nightmare?"

That voice. He'd recognize that voice anywhere... And the hand on his shoulder, a hand that hasn't been corrupted by hextech yet.

"Viktor?"

"Yes, it's me. It's okay, you're here with me. At home."

It's Viktor. The old one, his partner. But, at the same time, Jayce realizes, as he cups the man's face in his hands, that this Viktor looks different, healthier and happier.

He smiles more, and the expression reaches his beautiful eyes every single time.

"What is it? You look confused," Viktor says gently, caressing his shoulder.

Then Jayce notices that Viktor is also naked under the sheets; he's wearing a wedding band, and when he looks at his own hand over his partner's cheek he realizes he's wearing another one. One that matches Viktor's.

They're married. But he doesn't find the fact weird; it's not even remotely surprising. It makes sense somehow. Like something he should've done from the very beginning, but he was too obsessed with hextech to see the right path in front of him.

However, he's aware he didn't do that; he's not married to Viktor no matter how much he wants it now that the option appeared in his mind.

What's going on? Is this a dream? And if it is, can he stay a bit longer?

He doesn't want to wake up.

"I'll make breakfast. You should stay in bed," Viktor says, getting up before Jayce can grab his arm and beg him to stay with him. He stops only because he finally gets to admire Viktor's beautiful body for the first time. There's not trace of hextech on him.

Then he notices the prosthesis. His right leg. Even thought it's the first time Jayce has seen it, it looks familiar to him somehow.

"Where did you get that?"

Viktor chuckles; it's so good to see him laughing and happy, Jayce wants to make him do that sound again.

"Very funny. You perfectly know you did this for me. It was the first one. We do these for the people who need it. The Kiramman family pays for them."

Jayce can tell Viktor is passionate about the project; he likes to help, he likes to build things to improve people's lives in any way he can. In his heart, this also makes sense. He should've done this in the first place.

"What about hextech?"

"What are you talking about?" He's completely dressed now and Jayce laments it. But he gets closer and touches his forehead. "You're a bit warm, but I don't think you're sick. Maybe you should go back to sleep."

"No!" He snaps, startling Viktor for a moment. No, he doesn't want to go back to sleep because he'll lose this, he's sure of it.

"Maybe we should take the day off. You clearly need some rest."

Jayce has breakfast with him, he looks at their house with wonder; there are a lot of pictures of them, moments he doesn't remember, but that somehow make sense. In some of them, or perhaps a lot, Jayce finds himself staring at Viktor with a besotted grin on his face.

He helps Viktor with the dishes and kisses him for the first time in their kitchen; he can taste Viktor's smile against his lips and although it's familiar, it's completely new at the same time. He should've done that a long time ago.

When Jayce pushes him towards the bedroom, Viktor stops him.

"Wait," he chuckles again. "We should go buy groceries first."

"Viktor, please," this version of him must beg a lot, because his husband just rolls his eyes before following him inside.

"I love you, Viktor," Jayce says with tears in his eyes as flashes of the other Viktor appear in his head; he loves that Viktor too, even though he's been consumed by the hexcore now. "I think I've always loved you."

"I know," he smiles softly, running his fingers through Jayce's hair as they roll their hips together. "I love you too."

***

As the days pass and Jayce gets used to his new life; he realizes that this is not a dream. It feels too real to be one. He's starts wondering if the explosion sent him to another reality, a kinder one.

If that's the case he should try to find a way to get back, but without the hexcore there's no anomaly here.

And frankly, he's not sure he even wants to try; this Viktor is completely his, Jayce doesn't have to share his body and soul with the hexcore. The other one loves their project more than he loves Jayce. He's not sure the other one loves him the way Jayce does.

One day, Heimerdinger knocks at his door, and when he opens it he's tempted to close it right on his face. But then Viktor peeks over his shoulder and smiles.

"Professor, come in!"

This could be the Heimerdinger that lives in their reality, a different one; one who doesn't know about hextech. But Jayce has a bad feeling about him.

"I would like a cup of tea."

Viktor immediately leaves, heading towards the kitchen, acting like this is something that happens quite often at their house.

"How long have you been here?"

"How do you know, professor?"

"There's a different look in your eyes, boy. Besides, the other Jayce doesn't look at me like I'm a threat," Heimerdinger replies simply, staring right back at his former pupil.

"Do you want us to go back?"

"I don't know how we could do that, to be quite honest," he replies, prompting Jayce to finally relax. "I just had a feeling you were going to be sent here too, and I wanted to make sure you were alright. But I can see you have adapted quite well already."

"I don't want to leave, professor."

"I can tell."

"Is that wrong? Am I making a mistake?"

"I don't know."

***

When he sees Ekko again, it's months later; the headaches and flashes of his past life are not that frequent anymore, but it's because Jayce has trained himself to ignore them.

This time, it's Viktor the one who opens the door. Jayce it's in the living room so he manages to hear part of what his husband is saying.

"Is this your new pupil, professor? I'm Viktor. It's a pleasure, Ekko."

This is not a coincidence. The boy has finally arrived and it means nothing good for Jayce.

He rushes towards the entrance and stands between Viktor and the other two, like he's trying to shield him from them.

"You're acting a bit weird today, Jayce," he blurts out, confused before glancing back at their guests. "Don't mind him, he gets overprotective sometimes."

"It's fine," Ekko says. "I understand."

No, he fucking doesn't.

"Viktor, can you give us a minute?" Jayce asks, taking one his husbands hands before kissing it softly.

"Sure. I'll be in the lab."

He leads them to the study before closing the door behind himself; he's getting angry, and the fact that they're both looking at him with pity it's making him feel even worse.

"I won't help you find a way to get back," he says, trying not to growl.

"We already created the anomaly," Ekko shrugs. "We didn't need your help."

Jayce immediately flinches, thinking about all the things that could go wrong.

"You never asked," he blurts out before looking at the boy: "How long have you been here, Ekko?"

"I told him we shouldn't bother you," Heimerdinger cuts in then, when it's obvious Ekko is not going to answer any of Jayce's questions. "I apologize, but I genuinely thought you could... uhh... make everything a bit more difficult, if you agreed to help us."

On purpose. Heimerdinger thought Jayce could sabotage their project. But he doesn't get mad because he's right.

He would've.

"Then what are you doing here?"

"You need to come back with us," Ekko says, using the exact words he fears the most.

"No."

"Listen, I understand why you-"

"No, you fucking don't!" He growls without actually meaning to.

He hates that Ekko doesn't lose his composure, he hates that he's the mature one even though he's younger than Jayce.

"I do," he insists calmly. Jayce can see it in his eyes, the sorrow, the love... "I have someone here too. I don't want to leave her, but there are other people who need me where I come from. She's there too, another version of her, but I don't want to give up on her just because she's different."

The right words to undo him; the words that bring the image of his Viktor into his mind. He loves his Viktor too, but selfishness has been blinding him this whole time.

He can't give up on him, even if that Viktor doesn't love him as much as Jayce does.

He can find a way to destroy the hexcore and save Viktor at the same time; maybe they can have what they already have in this reality. It'll take some time and effort, but Jayce is going to be patient. He can fight for it.

"Let's go, right now."

"Aren't you going to say goodbye, boy?" Heimerdinger asks, taking pity on him. It's even worse than Ekko's judgment.

"If I see him I won't leave."

***

Something goes wrong. The core is reacting different in that reality, Jayce can feel it as his and Ekko's other selves get thrown out of the sphere and back into their reality.

Heimerdinger gets out before it's time to leave, he disappears outside the core and both Jayce and Ekko know they won't see him again.

When he opens his eyes he knows this is the reality he was supposed to land in the first place because his hammer is there, like it's been waiting for him this whole time. But Ekko is not with him.

And this place, this new reality looks like hell.

#arcane spoilers #arcane #jayvik #jayce arcane #viktor arcane

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blondiedae · 2 days ago

Text

dry house, wet clothes (six)

𓍯𓂃𓂃𓂃 dry house, wet clothes, six

pairing. johnny suh x afab!reader x jeong jaehyun

genre. angst, fluff, eventual smut, slow burn (for jaehyun), friends to lovers (for johnny)

warnings. swearing, mentions of drinking, kissing, explicit smut (oral (receiving/giving), fingering, not so dry humping (frottage). big miscommunication trope, it is what it is. it’s so much angst i’m so sorry

word count. 8,437

plot. the four of you have spent years building the world around you, your friendship, your weekends together hidden in jaehyun's loft. you, mark, johnny and jaehyun. shaking the foundation of that by being in love with your best friend, jaehyun, is a risk you've never been confident enough to take. but, johnny suh is confident and johnny suh has been known to shake the world around you.

other's mentioned. lee jeno, huang renjun, na jaemin, lee haechan (donghyuck), lee taeyong, nakamoto yuta, qian kun, ten lee, jung sungchan, kim jungwoo, kim doyoung

author's note. chapter six is here! it’s shorter because chapter seven is twice as long, but this felt like a good place to cut it! so, enjoy enjoy! (crying editing this chapter because Sungchang mentioned). also, i don’t know what happened? i had this scheduled to post at 10:30 last night and then it didn’t post it?? i woke up thinking i flopped because i didn’t have any notifs 😭 i’m so sorry

taglist (open). @xiaojunsdino @yoursyuno @girlisaloser

playlist. here!

“You’re so beautiful.”

Johnny’s voice was soft, his fingertips running along the skin of your stomach. You watched him, every move he made, every breath, every blink, and wondered if you’d ever get used to those words from his lips. The way his lips curved around each syllable with an easy, definitive smile. How his eyes didn’t waver, held a sincerity Johnny was never short on. Humming, a pleasant pause to thank him, you looked down at his fingers and said, “I remember when we met.”

“Yeah?” His grin grew, “What do you remember?”

Johnny when he’d yet to grow into his limbs, when his arms were a bit too long for the sleeves of his uniform and his legs carried him in acre-long strides. Johnny when his charm was settling, solidifying into sincerity; Johnny’s sparkling eyes when they were filled with unpredictable fireworks, instead of ever-shining sun. There were few discernable differences between that Johnny and the man in your bed, waiting for you to breathe.

You looked back to him, “I told you that your tie was crooked and you ignored me.”

Johnny laughed, chest pressed against you and rumbling with the sound. His hand extended to settle on your waist, pulling you closer to him, still, “I don’t remember that.”

“Of course you don’t.” Curling into him, you added, “You got in trouble for it thirty minutes after, though. I think it was your third or fourth day.”

“Hm. I didn’t know how to tie a tie.”

You nodded, head on his chest, and confirmed with, “Your mom only bought you clip-on ties. You told me.”

“What else?”

“You seemed so much older than me.” It was a strange thought, the memory of Johnny so young but feeling larger than life, larger than this world. For as long as you’d known him, in all the ways he’d changed, that much was still true, “Everything about you, just…the way you existed. That doesn’t even make sense.”

“Sure it does.” He’d come in the middle of the school year, just before his birthday. He did everything he could to blend, everything he could to integrate. He found you and he found Jaehyun and Johnny found a place to fit, “You had that bright yellow backpack.”

“I still have it.”

“And your astrology book.”

You traced the tattoo on his arm, “And you asked me what the stars had to say about when you’d be losing your virginity.”

He kissed the top of your head, muffling another laugh in your hair. Johnny closed his eyes, “Do you still have your book?”

“Mm. Probably. I think it’s downstairs.”

Johnny pulled back, kissing your forehead, the tip of your nose, your cheek. Then, fingers on your chin, he tilted your head up and kissed your lips. Johnny who had grown into his arms and his acre-long legs. Johnny who grew his hair longer, who knew how to tie a tie. Johnny who had sunlight in his eyes, who kissed you like it killed him not to. You let your heart swell, holding onto the memory of him with one hand and holding this moment in the other. His lips that curved around sweet words moved slowly with yours; Johnny would always move slowly with you.

“Do me a favor.” He kissed you again, only briefly, “Go find your book?”

“What?”

“Go see if you can find it.”

Sunbeams flickered in his eyes so brightly you could confuse them for fireworks, traces of your memories still lingering in him. Johnny smiled at you, nudged you, pulled himself from the bed and you after, “Why are we doing this?”

The warmth of your blankets faded too quickly, Johnny’s warmth following just as fast. He urged you towards the door, hands on your waist and pushing you backwards, “Go on. I’ll meet you down there.”

You grumbled, “It’s cold.”

But you went. Johnny asked and Johnny smiled, so you went. Your house was dark, two o’clock casting shadows and a particular sense of calm. Your living room was only lit by a sliver of moonlight, just in the center. Your bookshelves lined the furthest wall, behind your television and on either side; a collection that never stopped growing, a collection that needed to be shifted and straightened regularly. Books you’d read and cherished, annotated and scribbled love notes to the authors, the characters and their enemies in. They were stacked in wobbling towers on the floor, leaning against each other for support when they started to fall.

You knew where the astrology book should be; torn to pieces, pulling apart along the spine and frayed at the edges. It hadn’t moved in years, tucked away on the second shelf from the top. Your bare feet padded across the living room, stepping carefully around precarious stacks until you found it. It felt lighter in your hands, smaller.

You cracked it open, let the dust on the cover rub off on your fingers while you skimmed over your notes, “Huh.”

You’d dog-eared five dates; two in February, one in August, one in September and one in late October. It was a relic of its time, frozen and preserved. February 9th had his name scribbled at the top, Aquarius highlighted in neon green, unpredictable underlined in black. Your memory of Johnny came back to life in front of you; crooked tie, shorter hair, fireworks bursting in his eyes.

“You found it.” His voice was close behind you, “Can I ask you an astrology question?”

You turned and looked at him, Johnny still so much bigger than this world, larger than life, “Sure.”

Johnny came closer, “What do the stars have to say about you being my girlfriend?”

Your heart jumped, flipped, exploded in your chest. Any oxygen you had in your lungs fled, leaving you to gasp for air, for an answer. Johnny watched you, the easiest smile he could manage on his face. He was stepping closer still, hands wrapped around his sweater until he was toe-to-toe with you, lifting it over your head and pulling it down.

He took a moment to look at you. His sweater fell against your thighs and he worked at the sleeves until they were rolled up to your wrists. Johnny didn’t hide that he was shaking, didn’t hide that he was nervous and excited and bursting with adrenaline. You’d told him that you wanted to be his. Make me yours, you’d said. But, he had yet to ask and Johnny didn’t ever want to assume - not when it came to this, not when it came to you.

So, he explained, “I didn’t ask yet, officially. I wanted to ask.”

The spine protested the way your hands gripped the book, “Me or the stars?”

Johnny looked at the open pages, the word unpredictable underlined, then smiled at you. It was all he could do, he was riddled with hope, “Both. You, mostly. But, both if it helps.”

You caught your breath then - he was looking at you like that. For months, unnoticed. For months, undetected. For six months, Johnny waited and settled on certainty, on sincerity. If you asked for it, he’d give you that time. He’d tease you, he’d kiss you and Johnny would make a game of it; one you could both win, one you’d love to play. But, Johnny would give you that time, if it’s what you needed, if it meant you’d be his.

If the stars said to, he’d double it.

Make me yours, Johnny. You’d made your decision over dinner, over stolen kisses at a Halloween party, over a dance at a festival and that look. So, you swallowed and said, “I say yes.”

Johnny’s breath caught in his throat when he asked, “And the stars?”

“They say yes, too.”

Johnny swept you up in his arms, lips on yours in an instant. He was still shaking, adrenaline leaving his body in short breaths between kisses. He could feel the world rotating, felt it move underneath him and knew it was a miracle he was steady on his own two feet. He whispered your name, followed it with, “My Juliet.”

Then, Johnny thanked the stars. He sang their praises into your lips and begged them not to go cross at the sound of your nickname. To have a sense of humor, to give his Juliet and your Romeo a better ending. Johnny held you in a sliver of moonlight and asked the stars for no ending, at all. Just you.

Only you.

📻

11:37am Hey man

11:37am I think it’s just gonna be you and Jaehyun tonight

11:38am I’m gonna spend the day with my girlfriend

“Yo.” Mark’s phone buzzed once on the table, twice in the palm of his hand. He blinked just as many times, watching as the messages from Johnny came in, processing them, letting his jaw drop as a reaction, “Yo!”

His fist balled, slamming against Jeno’s arm to his left, “What happened?”

“They’re together.” Mark was hushed, his answer almost lost in the bustle of the cafeteria. His eyes felt like they’d fall out of his head, bugged as they were, “They’re fucking together.”

Renjun leaned over Mark’s other shoulder, “Johnny?”

Jeno shook his head, “Holy shit. He did it?”

Renjun settled back into his seat, “See Jaemin, it’s possible.”

“Oh, fuck off.”

“This is incredible.” If he could bottle this feeling he would. His expression shifted to reflect every emotion he cycled through until it settled into an ecstatic grin. He pushed himself away from the table, “I’ll be right back.”

Then, Mark crossed the cafeteria phone pressed to his ear. Johnny answered, “Why would you call?”

“Because I’m excited, dude.” He was weaving through people, no clear destination, “You asked her?”

“I said I wanted to spend time with my girlfriend and you called?” He could hear you laughing, Mark’s cheeks ached. Johnny told him, “I asked.”

“Dude, when?”

“Dude, last night.”

He leaned himself against a wall, “I can’t believe this.”

“Sure you can, Mark.” He listened to the background noise, unidentifiable sounds, the two of you moving together. Together. Together. You and Johnny were together. Mark’s laugh came out like a hoot, rushed out and echoed in the hallway. Johnny joined him, briefly, “Look, we’re just waking up. So, I’ll call you later, okay?”

“No, don’t worry about it. I’m so happy for you, Johnny.” He was. More than what felt reasonable, but it was out of Mark’s control. He was ecstatic, “Both of you. Seriously.”

Then, Johnny told him, “Thanks man. Me too.”

The line went silent after that, leaving Mark to buzz on his own. He paces three laps the width of the hallway, smiling to himself, celebrating by himself. Mark basked in his uncontainable feelings for as long as he could, before he raised his phone again and made one more call.

“Hey, Mark.”

“He did it.” He was bursting at the seams, “Jaehyun, Johnny fucking did it.”

📻

Johnny’s head was in your lap. Your fingers played with the strands of his hair, twirled them around and let them fall. His fingers traced up and down your calves, occasionally chased by his lips. The movie you’d turned on was nearly forgotten, falling into the background every time he kissed your skin. Johnny hummed against your leg, “You okay?”

“I’m fine.” When he looked up at you, you did your best to smile back, lips pulled tight. Your hands fell to your sides, palms flat on the couch while Johnny rotated, turning to face you, “What are you doing?”

“You’d tell me if I was pushing too far, right?” You nodded, Johnny’s hands caught yours and pulled them back to his hair, “Good. Keep going.”

His lips kissed your thigh, soft and brief, but enough to make your heart pound. One kiss by your knee, another higher, another higher still until he’d pushed the fabric of your shorts to the side to kiss along the line of your panties. Johnny breathed you in, eyes closed, “Too much?”

You sighed, “No.”

“Keep going?”

“Please.”

His fingers tugged at the fabric again, nose nuzzled against your clothed pussy for a moment before he placed a kiss at your core. Higher and higher until another one circled around your clit. You tasted like heaven, still, like perfection falling apart at the simplest touch underneath him.

“Babe?” He didn’t lift his head, voice muffled against you, “Can I taste you, again?”

You nodded your head.

Johnny chided, “Words, baby.”

“Yes, please Johnny.”

He sat up in a second, hands wrapped around your ankles and pulling at your legs. He moved himself to the opposite end of the couch, letting you lay back and find comfort before he lifted your leg again. His kisses were sloppier, rushing back up your leg, and his fingers dug into the flesh of your thighs. Johnny felt starved and it hadn’t even been twelve hours. Pulling at the waistband, he slid your shorts and panties down your legs, dizzy at the sight of you, again; overwhelmed by your glistening pussy in the daylight.

“I’m so fucking lucky.”

You hid from him, face behind your hands, “Johnny, be quiet.”

“Not a chance.” He hovered over you, hardening cock brushing against your clit when he whispered against your lips, “You’re perfect, baby. All mine.”

“All yours.”

Then, Johnny was back between your thighs, lapping at your pussy; drinking you in. His tongue pushed inside, circling to taste every drop before he steadily thrust in and out. He held your thighs down, fingers bruising your skin as you writhed and wriggled, arched against him, “Feel good?”

“Feels so good. Feels so fucking good.” Your voice was broken, barely above a whisper, “‘More.”

“Anything for you, baby.” Johnny focused his attention on your clit, sucking it between his lips and moaning against you, “You want me to fuck you with my fingers?”

“Mhm.”

He slipped two in, lifting his head only to watch how your jaw hung open. Johnny smothered himself with your pussy, barely coming up for air, sucking and moaning against you. He added a third finger, “So wet for me. Dripping.”

“Johnny.”

“Tell me.”

Your mind was lost, fogged over completely at his touch, the way he sounded, the way he made you feel. Your hips bucked every time he hooked his fingers inside you, with every kiss or kitten lick on your clit. You were gone, mindless, “More.”

“My Juliet is greedy.” He hooked his hands under your knees, tossing one over his shoulder and then the other, “Good to know.”

He dove back in, messy and wet. Johnny’s drool mixed in with your juices, dripping down onto the couch. He pulled back, leaving you breathless, a rush of cool air on your cunt. His fingers were in his mouth, sucking the taste of you from the tips before he put them back in, using his other hand to lift your ass up off the couch. The angle had you seeing stars, head thrown back.

“Johnny. Johnny. Johnny.” Your legs were shaking, stars blurring into pure white as you came on his tongue, on his fingers, down Johnny’s chin. You were everywhere on him, “Fuck. Oh my God.”

He pulled his fingers out slowly, sucking your wetness off of them again before he settled back on his heels. His cock was pushing against his pants, only for a second, before Johnny pulled it out and spit on his hand. He kept his eyes on you, wrecked in front of him and bucked into his hand, “You’re fucking incredible, baby.”

Your eyes opened slowly, the sight of him jerking himself off sent a shiver to your core, “No. No wait.”

“Wait for what?” His hand never stopped. You pulled yourself up as well as you could until you were in front of him kneeling. Johnny couldn’t breathe, “Open.”

Your jaw fell, waiting for his cock. Johnny slapped the tip against your tongue once, twice, three times before he eased it in, rocking just slightly. You wanted him to use you, wanted him to feel just as good as he’d made you feel. Wanted Johnny to look at you like this, always; those sunbeams shining in his heavy-lidded eyes.

“Use me.”

His hips stuttered, “Huh?”

“However you want, Johnny.” You sucked at his tip, tongue tasting the precum leaking from his slit, “Just use me.”

“Come here, beautiful.” He pulled you up. Johnny settled into the couch, sitting upright and guiding you onto his lap. You waited for him to lower your hips down, sink you onto his length, but he didn’t. Instead, Johnny held your hips, sliding his cock through your wetness before letting it slap against his abdomen. He sat you down, positioning his cock between the two of you, then breathed out, “Move.”

His fingers pushed into your hips, your waist, your ass. Anything he could hold onto to get your hips grinding on him. Your pussy slid against his cock, wrapped around him and wet. The tip pushed against your clit with every thrust, both of your moans echoing in the room.

Johnny licked his lips, one hand reaching up to grab the back of your neck and guide you to him. You kissed him, uncoordinated and sloppy, lost in the rhythm of your hips and his. He was breathing heavily, chest rising rapidly as he chased your lips, chased his high.

“It feels so good.”

He nodded his head, resting it against yours, holding you there. Johnny begged you, again, like he needed to know he had you here, “Look at me.”

You did, eyes locked on him. Your hips couldn't follow the rhythm you’d set, both of you humping and grinding against each other, erratically before Johnny moaned, “Cumming.”

It was drawn out, the way he said it. Johnny was shaking underneath you and never letting go, the intensity of his own orgasm pushed you over the edge, again. Head tossed back, calling out his name like it was the only thing you could remember.

He pulled you against his chest, let you collapse there and catch your breath. He felt like he’d pushed too far, clarity coming back to him like a wave. So, Johnny held you until you came back down and hoped he hadn’t crossed a line.

He asked, “How do you feel?”

“So good.”

“Not too far?”

You leaned back, holding eye contact with him again and promised, quietly enough for only Johnny to hear, “Not too far. I promise, I’ll tell you.”

He nodded, “Okay.”

“Come take a shower with me.”

Again, he nodded, “Okay.”

📻

Saturday came quickly, after a whole day hidden away with Johnny. Your boyfriend Johnny. Johnny who knew exactly how to touch you, how to kiss you, how to keep your world spinning and Johnny who promised he’d figure out the rest. He held your hand as you walked down the street to Jaehyun’s, keeping you wrapped in his sweater for one more day.

He stopped you in the middle of the road, centered in front of Jaehyun’s house and staring up at the loft, “You ready?”

“It’s just Mark and Jaehyun.” You hoped his sweater would summon a pinch of Johnny’s certainty, trying to convince yourself that a night in the loft would be normal. Knowing that it wouldn’t be, feeling Jaehyun on your lips, Johnny everywhere else. You looked at him, “It’ll be okay.”

Johnny knew you were worried, if it wasn’t written clearly on your face, you’d told him as much. In the steam of your shower, with Johnny’s hands on your skin, you told him. You’d whispered it like a secret against his bicep, “Tonight will be different.”

He lathered you in milk and honey soap, massaged it into your skin, “Why do you think that?”

“Because we’re different.”

He was kneeling at your feet, one leg propped up so he could rest yours on top. Johnny switched your legs, letting you use him for balance, before he looked up at you - beautiful you, vulnerable with him, willingly vulnerable. He’d spent six months wondering how he could get here and now, all he wanted to do was stay, “Different how?”

You snorted, “You know how.”

The cheeky grin on his face made you laugh more, “Yeah, but I want to hear you say it.”

You played the game, “Because you have a girlfriend.”

Johnny stood up, imitation shock perfectly on his face, “I do? Who? Should I be here with you?”

“Of course you should be.”

“And why is that?”

Giving in, caving for Johnny’s charm, you switched spots and pushed him under the water. You brought your lips to his chest, kissing where the last leaf of his tattoo ended and telling him, “Because I’m your girlfriend.”

You could feel him shiver when Johnny pulled you flush against him, “You’re my girlfriend.” Then he whispered, “How insane is that?”

Jaehyun’s house was daunting, now, a new reality. You’d never hesitated on his sidewalk like this, never thought twice about climbing the iron steps. Johnny pulled at your hand and repeated your words back to you, “It’ll be okay. It’s just Mark and Jaehyun.”

Mark had gotten there first, taking the steps two at a time when he arrived. Jaehyun could hear him before he could see him, the clunk of his feet, then the door hitting the wall, then his backpack hitting the floor. The youngest asked, “Are they here yet?”

Jaehyun was at his piano, tapping keys one by one in a scale, “Not yet.”

“Can you believe it, man?” Mark was at the window, pulling off his coat, his hat, watching the empty street like it would pull you from your house, “Johnny thought he’d change his mind.”

“Did he?” Jaehyun met Mark where he was, hands tucked in his pockets. He saw you, then, hand-in-hand with Johnny. Jaehyun let the words rush out in a sigh, “Looks like he didn’t.”

“I knew he wouldn’t. I think he just wanted to be sure, you know? He’s so careful about this kind of stuff.”

Jaehyun noted, “Yeah. He is.”

At that, Mark looked at him, pulling his attention away from you and Johnny - boyfriend and girlfriend, together, you and Johnny - to ask, “You okay, man?”

Jaehyun took only a second to react, adjusting himself to stand upright, fixing his expression so it was believable. He was falling apart, but he told Mark, simply, “Yeah. Weird work week.”

And they left it at that.

When you’d climbed the stairs, when you pushed the door to the loft open, Mark rushed the two of you. Shouting out his excitement, arms secured around the two of you, “Oh my God!”

Johnny laughed, hand still holding yours, squeezing a reassurance before he patted Mark on the back, “I’m starting to think you thought she’d reject me.”

“I’m just excited, man. This is so exciting.” He was so eloquent when he could nit pick his words, but in moments like this Mark was repetitive, vibrating with too much energy and excitement to articulate, “Congrats you guys.”

You heard bottles clink across the room, followed the sound to where Jaehyun stood. He looked at you for a second, felt his lips tingle - the last place you touched - and then agreed, “Congratulations you guys.”

His hand extended to Johnny first, then Mark, then you. The way Jaehyun’s fingertips lingered on the neck of the bottle, at the tips of yours, was something kept between the two of you. Johnny told him, told the both of them, “Thanks.”

And you echoed it, eyes on Jaehyun.

Your astrology book was open on your coffee table, turned to the page with February 14th at the top. Jaehyun’s name was scribbled, just like Johnny’s. Two pages filled with notes, with highlighted marks and underlined words. You’d studied it, when you were younger, grew frustrated at the surface level explanation of someone you knew had so much more depth. Looking at Jaehyun now, trying to read him like your book, it was impossible.

Jaehyun felt lost to you.

You had felt it coming, but the reality of it made the beer you swallowed down even more bitter.

Johnny pulled at your hand, “Alright what’s the plan for the night.”

There wasn’t one - there never was. Hours went by in a blink. You’d let Johnny mix you nonsensical cocktails, sipped them down in the middle of the mattress and eased yourself into the night. Johnny carried the conversation, kept your attention with every word. Mark’s laughter echoed off the walls, mixed with yours and Jaehyun’s, sometimes overpowered them. Jaehyun sat at the piano, watching and listening, looking away whenever you peeked at him.

It was tearing you apart.

Mark was too far gone, six celebratory drinks in and wobbling on his feet when he asked, “You guys kiss and stuff, right?”

You choked on your own drink, eyes wide, while Johnny laughed and rolled backwards. He’d sat himself by the windows a while ago, finishing a story and crossing his legs. Mark was near Jaehyun, eyes slow blinking and a lazy smile on his face.

He laughed out a drawn out, drunken, “What? It’s a fair question.”

Jaehyun shifted in his seat, “You’re drunk, Mark.”

“Yeah, obviously.” The youngest was still smiling, shining brightly with mischief while he looked between you and Johnny, “I think you should kiss now.”

“Mark, what the hell?” Your own laughed must’ve sounded forced, or maybe just as drunk as his. Still, you slowly shook your head, “We’re not kissing in front of you.”

“Come on. Why not? When was the last time you kissed?”

Johnny answered for you, glancing at the time, “Six hours ago.”

“See!” Mark gestured vaguely, excited, using his last wind to make his point, “That’s way too long. Don’t you guys want to?”

Again, Johnny answered, truthfully and certain and with a quick wink, “Always.”

“Then do it.”

You looked at Jaehyun. He tapped at the piano, eyes down. You were happy - Johnny made you happy and that’s what Jaehyun wanted. But, you couldn’t look away from him, couldn’t stand the way he avoided you. Your heart was a lump in your throat, impossible to swallow down. Then, Johnny was in front of your standing at the end of the mattress and reaching out his hand. He smiled, you melted at the sight, the beams of light in his eyes turning you into a puddle, “Come on, baby.”

You thought you might have been the only one to hear it, until Mark squealed. You let the world outside of you and Johnny fade, knowing Jaehyun was in the corner doing the same - fading you out, turning away, closing himself off. You needed Johnny, needed him to hold onto you. So, you took Johnny’s hand. You let Johnny pull you to him and fall into orbit.

“Hi.” You whispered.

He said it back, “Hi. Too much?”

“Maybe a little.”

“We don’t have to.”

But you shook your head. Mark was right, six hours felt like too long, after a little more than twenty-four and, “I miss you.”

Johnny laced his fingers in yours, “I’m right here.”

He leaned in, Mark said something like, “They’re doing it” an octave higher than usual, clapping his hands like a seal. Johnny leaned in and you titled your head up to meet him in the middle, letting his lips mold to yours, move with them, just like you had all last night, all day.

Then it was over. Johnny turned to Mark and asked, “Happy?”

And from the way Mark kicked his feet, from the way he jumped up and onto Johnny, you knew he was. You couldn’t help but smile, couldn’t stop the laugh. Jaehyun was on his feet, stepping around the two of them with a pat on Johnny’s back, “I’ll be back.”

Then he was gone.

Johnny and Mark found a new topic to pick at, collapsing into each other in laughter, in drunken camaraderie. You watched for a moment before finding an excuse with reason, “I’m gonna get some water.”

Then you followed after Jaehyun.

He could hear your footsteps behind him, soft and careful, lingering just over his shoulder. Jaehyun held his breath, fingers fumbling with twisting the lid off the bottle. He couldn’t focus on it, his chest tight again, alone in his kitchen with you. Eventually, the metal scraped enough on the glass so the cap fell, clinking against the countertop. Jaehyun ignored it, his breath easing its way out of captivity in his lungs, and poured.

“I submitted my edits.” He didn’t turn, the silence between you filled with the sound of whiskey in a tumbler, “Lee Haechan has notes.”

His shoulders were stiff, “Oh?”

You nodded, silent and knowing he wasn’t looking. Your heart was pounding in your chest, your throat, your ears, “He wants to meet with me.”

Jaehyun only hummed.

“Please.” You didn’t mean to say it. You didn’t mean to plead, for Jaehyun to hear it. It seemed fruitless to beg him, to let this silence swallow you up and put more space between the two of you, “I’m sorry.”

“For what?” He took a sip of his drink, licking his lips, “We just keep apologizing to each other. For what?”

“I don’t know what’s happening.”

“You’ve said that. Nothing is happening.” His world is crumbling, Jaehyun was lying to you while he was lying in ruins. The haze of alcohol made everything seem slow, heavy, impossible. He turned, leaning against the counter but still looking away, “We’re all just adjusting.”

“You said you wanted me to be happy.”

“I do.”

“Then please. Please just be honest with me.”

Jaehyun’s jaw clenched, “I am.”

The circles you’d spun in were wearing you down. Every conversation you’d had with Jaehyun for the last month spiraled the same way, until the ground caved in underneath you - another layer added each time, worse and worse the further down you went. Your heart was aching; if the daylight found you euphoric, the night and the drinks and the way Jaehyun avoided you found you in a state of misery.

The same conversation, the same circles, the same sickening feeling in your gut watching your best friend close himself off. February 14th in your book; distant underlined in black, detached highlighted in neon green. Jaehyun was two feet away and had never been further from you.

Anger replaced hurt long enough for you to say, “You’re so full of shit, Jae.”

“I’m full of shit?” That was the tipping point. His eyes were on you, zeroed in and pinched in a glare. Jaehyun tilted his head back and let the whiskey slide down his throat, the glass hitting the counter harder than he’d anticipated when he was done, “Has it always been him?”

“What are you talking about?”

“Johnny. Has it always been Johnny?”

“No.”

“It’s just him now, then?” Jaehyun stepped closer, “You just woke up and decided that?”

You froze, hand at your sides and head tilted, “How do you think this works?”

“I don’t know and you won’t fucking talk to me about it.”

“I can’t talk to you about it!” You could hear the music from upstairs and hoped that it was loud enough to drown you out, to mask your explosion, “This is what happens. I don’t know what it is, I don’t know what it’s going to be. That’s the whole point, Jaehyun. Do you know where all your relationships will go from the start?”

He shook his head, not as an answer. Jaehyun shook his head and rolled it back, letting the debris settle around him, “Obviously not.”

“Why do I need to have so many answers for you?”

“It’s the same fucking thing you did with Sicheng.” It wasn’t. He didn’t mean it. Jaehyun sought out an escape and latched onto a lie, again. He watched the way your face twisted and immediately wanted to take it back. But, he doubled down, “Look how that ended.”

“What the fuck does that have to do with anything?” You didn’t wait for him to tell you, stepping back, “You’re out of your fucking mind. We were kids, Jaehyun.”

He called your name, stepping after you, taking up the space you’d been in before. Jaehyun was overwhelmed by cinnamon, pink pepper, mandarin, “We’re not kids anymore.”

“Exactly.”

Jaehyun’s voice was quiet, “Did you fuck him?”

You stopped, “What did you just say?”

“Did you fuck him?” You didn’t budge, you didn’t answer, you didn’t blink. Jaehyun ran his hands through his hair, “This whole thing is a game.”

Clarity came and went, weaving through your words, the music, the things Jaehyun said. Another layer of the Earth crumbled from another loop, “It’s not and for some reason that bothers you. You just won’t fucking admit it.”

“It doesn’t.”

“We’re having the same conversation, again, because it does.”

He was in front of you again, wavering again, “I don’t want to lose another friend because you want to fuck around.”

Johnny and Mark moved two floors above you, footsteps and laughter loud enough for you to hear in the silence that fell between you and Jaehyun. Fury and confusion mixed like another cocktail for you to swallow, another drink you’d choke down tonight. It was too much, every second, every word, every thought. It was all too much.

You blinked.

Jaehyun watched the tear roll down your cheek, watched it curve at your jaw and felt like he was going to be sick at the sight. He could see his bedroom door, considered how the night would’ve gone if he’d just gone to bed, cut himself off. Instead, he’d gone too far. Jaehyun reached for you, the most natural thing for him to do, his hand out in front of him. You pulled back. You kept pulling back.

“I didn’t mean it.”

“You said it.”

He said your name again, a broken whisper in the back of his throat, “I didn’t mean it. I don’t know why I - fuck, that’s not…”

“You didn’t lose Sicheng. You won’t lose Johnny.” Jaehyun wanted to correct you - that’s not at all what he was worried about. You kept pulling back and he kept pushing, doing everything he could to ensure he’d lose you. Every step was a misstep. Jaehyun was terrified, stuck in this moment, this loop. Your hand wiped the tear from your face, the ones that followed its path, “But, until you figure out what you do mean, I…I can’t keep doing this.”

“Doing what?”

Your arms wrapped around yourself, comforted by Johnny wrapped around you, soothing you in the way Jaehyun would if he could reach. The ground held your attention, eyes cautious in case it gave way, again. You weren’t sure how much Earth there was to spare, how much of your foundation you and Jaehyun had left. He watched you shake your head, erase all the thoughts that had you so far away. Then, you told him, “Whatever this is. I don't know who we are anymore.”

Jaehyun couldn’t tell you. A little more than twenty-four hours ago, he thought he knew. In a world before he watched you kiss Johnny and feel something, before he saw your face when you really liked it, Jaehyun thought he could figure it out even though, “You said you felt nothing.”

He didn’t know you had heard him, he didn’t know he’d said it out loud, until you asked, “What?”

So, for the last time, he lied, “I said we’re nothing. We’re the same as we were.”

“Don’t. We keep saying that and then this keeps happening.” You looked at him, for the last time, “Figure it out.”

Then you left. Jaehyun waited until he heard your footsteps join Mark and Johnny. He stood perfectly still in his kitchen, breathing faster and faster with every second until he felt like he couldn’t stand anymore. Then, Jaehyun went to bed, freezing.

📻

A week had gone by quickly and the world adjusted around you, around Johnny, around an ache that still lingered and you tried to push down. A week had passed and you worked hard to find your footing on frosted over pavement, sidewalks that shone under a layer of ice - water from a late night storm. A week had passed and you were suddenly halfway through November, choking down the silence between you and your best friend.

The café helped in filling the quiet, bustling midday while you waited for your faceless author. Your latte cooled in front of you, the steam from it evaporating as the minutes passed by.

Then, he was there - Lee Haechan was exactly how you pictured him and somehow shockingly different. His oversized blazer hung open around him, tan against a plain white shirt and jeans. The black beanie on his head left a dent in his hair when he pulled it off and introduced himself, confirming your name and saying, “Nice to meet you.”

“Yeah, same.”

His head tilted to the side, eyebrow lifted, “Really?”

“Of course. I really enjoyed your book.”

Haechan laughed, straightening upright, “You did? You sure had a lot to say about it.”

You balked, “I mean…that’s my job.”

“Right.” He tapped at the table, “I didn’t disagree with most of it. Honestly, you’re the first editor that gave me honest feedback. So, I guess I should thank you.”

“I thought this was your first book.”

Haechan nodded, “It is. You’re the sixth editor that’s gone through it, though. Seventh if you count my friend, Sungchan.”

You leaned forward, wrapping your hands around your mug before bringing it to your lips, “Why so many?”

Haechan easily matched your position, leaning closer and smirking, “Everyone was full of shit.”

“And I’m not.”

He shrugged, “You might be. But, I liked it.”

He was something else - charming in a way that was almost off putting, confident and calm, “Okay. So, why did you want to meet?”

“Tell me about your first love.”

“Excuse me?”

Haechan leaned back again, watching as the waitress set his drink in front of him and crossing his arms, “I write about love. You’ve been in love right?” You nodded, slowly, one eyebrow arched in curiosity. You had no way of knowing where this was going, Lee Haechan was unpredictable, resolute when he asked again, “Tell me about it. The first time.”

“Okay, sure.” You’d spent years avoiding the topic and the last month circling back to it. Your head throbbed at the thought, but you told him, “He was an exchange student. He…I don’t know, the moment I saw him I felt like I just needed to be near him. He was so quiet and reserved, at the time, and it felt like he was a mystery. Does that make sense? I’d spent my whole life until that point surrounded by the same people and he was so new.”

“A shiny new toy to play with.”

Words that were unintentional knives, poking and prodding at the memory of Jaehyun in his kitchen. The implication that Sicheng was a game, that Johnny was too - Jaehyun had thrown the same knives. And, when they tore at your skin, when his words drew blood, Jaehyun was shocked. Haechan had no way of knowing how his words pierced fresh wounds, how you’d felt them reopen and used your latte to choke down what pain followed. He just watched you, curious as he’d been when he came through the door, and waited for you to speak.

“No. No, he was more than that. He was, I don’t know, bubbly? Vibrant and when he smiled it was like magic.”

“Wow.” Haechan sat with that, mulled it over while he sipped on his own drink. He looked at you, after a hard swallow and asked, “Is that Jaehyun?”

Your pulse stopped, veins cold and lifeless, hands squeezing tightly around your mug. Blinking, you begged Haechan for clarification, “What?”

“Jaehyun.” He took another sip, watching silently as you spiraled, “Is that your first love?”

“No. Jaehyun is…” The word was lost on you; Jaehyun was ice, he was cold and he was something he’d never been. Jaehyun was supposed to be your best friend, but he was shifting into something else, into a ghost and the thought made you nauseous, “He’s my friend.”

He hummed, “You mentioned his name in your notes a few times. I figured it was a reference.”

“He helped me. He…he let me read your book to him so I could work out my thoughts. I didn’t realize I’d left his thoughts in, as well.” You looked down into your mug, followed the swirl of the foam, “I’m sorry. That was really unprofessional.”

“I don’t mind.” Then, Haechan pushed, asked more from you than you were prepared for, “Are you sure he’s just a friend?”

There was nothing you were less sure of, not in that moment. But you knew what he was implying, you know how his words grabbed at your heart and tried to jumpstart the feeling you’d been chasing for years. That familiar ache you tried to push down. You shook your head, “I have a boyfriend.”

Haechan nodded, “Ah.”

Your phone buzzed, nudging a spoon closer to the edge. 12:49pm Come over tonight?

“Boyfriend?” You nodded, “Do you love him?”

“We’ve only been together for a week.”

“Oh, I wasn’t talking about him.” Haechan pointed to your phone, Johnny’s message still visible, “Love is strange. Every time I think I understand it, I find a new version somewhere else, in something else or someone else.”

“Maybe it’s not love, then. Maybe it’s infatuation.”

“Infatuation is messy.” Haechan shook his head, “There’s a purity in love, something untainted and clean about it. Love is a white light, infatuation is something else.”

“What do you mean?”

Haechan pulled a piece of paper from his pocket, unfolding it and placing it on the table between you. It was a page from his book, torn from the manuscript and scribbled on. He watched as you read over it; a passage about the love interest, a comment about the main character credited to Jaehyun. Haechan cleared his throat, “Jaehyun said the way Sanghoon felt was fleeting. The way it’s described was fleeting, ungrounded.”

“Right.”

“And you said…” Haechan leaned over the paper, himself, fingers tracing along your written notes, “What is more akin to love than desire to float away.”

“Yeah.”

“What’s more pure than a desire to fly? Love should feel like that.” Then he smiled, teasing and wide, “Light in color, light in weight.”

You looked at him, “You seem like the type to have an opinion on everything.”

Haechan barked out a laugh, “You’re right. I like talking to you.”

“I’m undecided.”

“Fair enough.” He checked his watch, humming at the time before he told you, “I have to go. We should meet again, though. And, really, think about it.”

“About what?”

Haechan was standing, securing his hat on his head again and taking another long sip of his drink before he looked directly asked you and repeated, for the second time, “Do you love him?”

📻

Taeyong’s apartment was warm; pleasantly covered in dim lights dangling from the ceiling, music lilting out of a speaker hidden by bodies in a small crowd. He ushered you in, “Hey you.”

His hug was welcome, just as warm as his home, “Hey Yong.”

You could hear Mark’s laugh, tucked away somewhere around the corner, mixed in with every other sound you had yet to match to a sight. The air was heavy with the smell of food, lingering on Taeyong’s clothes, on the apron tied around his waist. Taeyong slid your coat onto a hanger, put it in the closet and came to stand behind you, “He’s in the kitchen.”

You looked back at him, “He told you.”

Taeyong snorted, stepping around you into the apartment, “He’s telling everyone that will listen. Come on.”

As soon as you rounded the corner, as soon as you were in his line of sight, Johnny saw you. You watched the end of his sentence taper off, the way he stilled his stirring and the conversation he’d been having with Ten. Johnny locked onto you and opened his arms as wide as he could, heart full in his chest, “There’s my girl.”

You fell into him, breathed him in for the first time in two days - since your meeting with Haechan left you spiraling and Johnny turned spirals into comfortable, comforting spins. He held you close as you mumbled, “Hi babe.”

“Oh, I get it now.” Johnny held your hands around his waist, locked them there, “I like how that sounds.”

Johnny kissed your lips, Mark broke from his conversation with Yuta to hoot, to holler, to watch you tuck yourself back into Johnny, “Jesus.” You pushed your way under Johnny’s arm, “What are you making?”

He shrugged, closing the distance again and wrapping around you from behind, “Ask Taeyong.”

Johnny kissed your neck, palm flat on your stomach, the other guiding you to look back at him again. He wanted to kiss you, it was all he could think about all day. So, he blocked you from Mark’s view and moved his lips to yours, “Missed you.”

“Saw you this morning.” Johnny’s hand slipped down from your chin, down your arm, down to hold your hand in his. Insatiable was the closest to what he felt, “Missed you, too.”

“Stay with me tonight.” Johnny’s breath was hot against your ear, “Please.”

You hummed an agreement, sighed and leaned further into him, “Okay.”

Ten chopped vegetables behind you, “There are other rooms for that.”

“You can join.” He tossed the comment over his shoulder, Ten tossed a slice of carrot over his; laughing when it bounced off Johnny’s cheek and fell to the floor. Johnny turned back to you, “Did you see everyone else, yet?”

“Not yet.” You’d placed the spoon back into the pot, stirring the broth that bubbled and popped, “Who is here?”

“Yuta, Kun, obviously Mark and Ten.” Johnny looked around the room, “Jungwoo is on his way, Yangyang is running late and picking up Renjun.”

His name missing from the list didn’t go unnoticed. Do you love him had plagued you for two days. Words from a stranger that had embedded themselves in your brain, clawed at it until you didn’t have a choice but to listen. Johnny was warm against you and it was a comfortable distraction. Johnny was careful with you, easing you into view and keeping some things secret for the two of you. I wasn’t talking about him.

Part of you knew he wouldn't be here. Jaehyun would put as much distance between the two of you as he could; Taeyong was across the city, Taeyong lived in another world. You thought about asking Johnny to stay at yours tonight, to bring you back to your world and let you hang onto the last bit of closeness you had with Jaehyun. You were spiraling again.

“You okay?”

You nodded, “Kitchen is hot.”

“Come on.” Johnny pulled you from the heat of the stovetop, “Ten, can you stir.”

“Tell Kun he has to come cut.”

The living room was cooler, by far, louder and filled with interweaving conversations. You followed the end of one conversation and listened as it carried on into another, filling the empty space Kun had left on the couch.

Yuta had dyed his hair fire-engine red since the last time you’d seen him, a vibrant contrast to the layers of black he wore. He was engulfed in his conversation with Mark, elbows on his knees and leaned in. Mark, opposite him, seemed more at ease after his assessment date had passed. His hands moved wildly in front and around him, illustrating whatever he was relating to Yuta.

Taeyong was perched on the armrest of his chair, the one positioned in front of a shelf of his own work. His fingers were stained with paint, fading but always present, as they tapped at the screen of his phone. He looked up, lending his voice to the conversation when it was useful, turning his attention down when it wasn’t. Taeyong was similar to Johnny in that way, always moving with intention.

Kun and Ten were chatting in the kitchen, working around each other in remarkable sync. You were sure Ten had a new tattoo, just above his elbow, but he was too far away to tell now. Kun had pushed his glasses down from the top of his head, focused on the dish in front of him.

It made you feel sick, sitting in a space so full of life and still lingering on such an empty feeling. If you sat quietly long enough, you’d get lost in those thoughts. But, Johnny had his hand in yours and, when he could feel your grip loosening, he squeezed his fingers around yours and whispered something beautiful, something sweet. Something so wonderfully Johnny that you went from drifting to floating, only a slight difference between the two.

But it was enough for you to notice.

Kun told you all the food was ready, wiping at his hands with a towel before you all filed into the kitchen. Taeyong’s doorbell rang a second later, he rushed to answer it, “It’s probably Jungwoo.”

Just like Mark, you could hear him before you saw him. Jungwoo came into the kitchen with an announcement spilling from his lips, “I brought a surprise.”

Hope swelled in your chest, head turning and seeking him out. Searching for dimples, for a tugged at tie, for his laugh and his smell and the way he’d look for you, first. Ten spoke up, “Doyoung?”

And your hope shattered.

It was only when everyone filed out of the kitchen, only when you and Jungwoo remained, that you thought to ask, “Is Jaehyun not coming?”

Jungwoo licked at his fingertips, tasting a sauce Kun said was his specialty, “No. He couldn’t make it.” Jungwoo poured a ladle full of soup into his bowl, eyes flicking to you when he asked, “Didn’t he tell you?”

You lied, knowing the words fumbled coming out of your mouth. You lied, blinking and focusing on your already full plate. You looked up at Jungwoo and lied, “Yeah. Right. I must have forgotten.”

Jungwoo watched you leave the kitchen then, his phone heavy in his pocket with a message from Jaehyun.

8:12pm Tell me how she is.

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#nct smut #johnny suh smut #jaehyun x reader #nct fluff #nct angst #johnny suh fluff #jaehyun angst #johnny suh x reader #jaehyun x you #johnny suh x you #dhwc

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