#eyes have been watering while i sent texts. i just feel gross all the way around.

[indiegame]

d6 migraine babey 👍

[venusiangguk]

the art of trying | jjk (m)

>>pairing: jungkook x reader / dilf!jk x grocery store clerk!oc

>>genre: friends with benefits, smut, angst

>>word count: 29.3k 😁

>>warnings: dom jk, sub oc, age gap, oc club era 🪩🥂, oc heart to heart with…, enter mr park seojoon !!, budding friendships 🥰, mending of relationships, enter dilf !!, reconciliation finally, but still we yearn, and jk is still a little stewpid, however!! he is doing his best!!, mostly oc pov i think, warning for a little bit of sad bc she is sad !!, but not too sad 😼, enter jock !!, dilf jk stuff: asking for permission, saying thank u, etc., fore play in the form of a lil dry humping 🫶🏻, finishes (multiple),, oral (m & f), dirty talk, lovesick gross smitteness 👎🏻, jreampie 👍🏻,  and finally, enter nari !! (🧋)

>>notes: finally am i right 🤣

this is part of my dilf jk series that can be found on my masterlist

>>summary: you’re trying to forget jungkook, but he’s trying to make sure you remember why you shouldn’t. 

It’s the middle of January and I haven’t learned to be okay without you, yet. The wind outside is harsh and cold. It hurts my feelings sometimes. 

 It reminds me of you, sometimes, too.

 I still miss you.

 “Girl, what does that even mean?”

 Your laptop gets slammed shut, and you whip your head around to see Binna. Your very best friend that has been caught red-handed, reading over your shoulder.

 “Do you mind?” you say with narrowed eyes.

 “I do actually,” she says, walking around the couch and plopping next to you. 

 You roll your eyes and rephrase with something she’s hopefully less likely to have an answer to. “Can I help you?”

 Binna looks stumped for approximately .4 seconds –not nearly long enough to be satisfying– and then she’s saying, “No, but you can help yourself. Please go to therapy. I am begging you and also I will pay for it.” 

 “Die.”

 “C’mon, you’ve been sad for like almost 2 months,” she groans, “and it’s like… tangible, ___. I walk into the house and I can feel it. It just permeates the air and– look, it even killed the plant.”

 Binna’s pointed finger guides your gaze to the small succulent on the windowsill and it’s a bit pathetic how your eyes start to tear up because it is in fact, the tiny succulent Jeongguk gave you so many months ago. You had done a good job of taking care of it for a while, his occasional texts reminding you to water it had been helpful. But lately you haven’t even really been taking care of yourself, and the little plant has, unfortunately, become collateral damage. 

 You also don’t get those texts anymore.

 With big watery eyes and a fat bottom lip, you turn back to her and she sighs. Grabs the remote and pauses whatever is playing on the tv. This makes Jade squawk, something about her watching it and it being the best part but Binna is having none of it.

 “No, this is actually dire. She’s crying over the plant, Jade. We have to intervene, it’s time.”

 Jade pouts for a moment, looking between the tv and you as if she can’t decide which is more pressing. When she crawls from her place where she was laying on the floor to your feet, it seems her decision is made. She rests her chin on your knee.

 “Still sad over the dilf?” she asks.

 You nod pitifully.

 “She was openly writing melancholy about him… it's a public cry for help,” Binna adds.

 With a nod of understanding, Jade says, “Writing can be a good way to get your thoughts together and work through them.”

 Choosing not to tell them that you don’t think you’ll ever be able to work through all the thoughts because there are just too many and it hurts too bad, you stay quiet.

 It’s not an awkward silence that takes over the living room, but you can tell that Binna and Jade are trying to think of something to say. Jade ends up being the one to interrupt the quiet.

 “Has he reached out to you at all?”

 The unanswered text on your phone started as a temptation, but it’s ended as a little memo that helps put things into perspective. 

 Did you get home okay?

 Jeongguk made his decision and he only sent you that text because he let you leave. 

 He sent you that text after he made it so incredibly clear that he wasn’t going to let you stay in his life.

 Despite you telling him you’d think about things, let him know what you decided in regards to you and him– he really didn’t leave much room for you to do that. He’s hard-headed and he’s extreme and when he makes his mind up about something… it’s not likely anyone will be able to change it. Especially if it has to do with Nari.

 And it’s not like you don’t get it. You do, to some extent at least. 

 Nari is his baby and Nari is his priority. Just like she should be. That’s self-explanatory and easy to understand. If Jeongguk felt you being in his life somehow messed with his priorities and decided it wasn’t going to work out between you two after giving it some thought– it wouldn’t have been easy, but you would have accepted it nonetheless. 

 But part of you believes he didn’t give it much thought at all because one moment he was washing you, taking care of you, kissing you. Making you feel like you were his and he was yours and like he cared. Like he was always going to be there; like he was endless. 

 Then the next he was telling you it was all basically a mistake to him. That he didn’t know if he had the room or the time for you anymore. Like you were an amenity with a timeframe. Something that was worthwhile, until it wasn’t anymore. Something nice that was momentarily useful, something that perhaps made his life better, easier in a way… but something that ultimately wasn’t necessary.  

 The turnaround was too abrupt and too abrasive and too rash for you to accept that it wasn’t impulsive. That he truly thought it through. You think that’s what’s hindering you from moving on. 

 A part of you almost wishes that you could fool yourself into believing he did mull it over. That he simply ‘changed his mind’. Because that’s better than the uncertainty that comes with him cutting you out so heedlessly. 

 If Jeongguk had a change of heart– it means that, at one point, his heart was sure of you; his heart did want you. 

 It’s deceiving, but it hurts less than the uncertainty. 

 The ache that comes with longing for what was is concrete and irrefutable in a bittersweet sense because at least in that case, what you’re yearning for was something that you had; something that was real. 

 You can’t pinpoint the pain that comes with uncertainty. There’s too much room for doubt, too many times you can mistake a ‘what if’ for a ‘what was’. There are too many ways you can spin the past if you’re not certain of it. Too many different outcomes you can craft. There are too many ways that uncertainty can hurt

 Jeongguk’s 180 took place barely within a few hours. Specific changes were instantaneous. Like the quiet unease that shrouded the atmosphere; the quick developing doubt that inevitably tainted both your affections. In all honestly, you could feel the shift as soon as he walked into the playroom after talking to Nari’s mom.

 Dasom.

 The things you feel when you think about her make you feel so ugly. Like your heart is rotten within your core, ruining you from the inside because it’s so easy to blame her and resent her for everything that occurred. Easy to pin the earth-shattering, tectonic shift in your and Jeongguk’s dynamic on her. It’s easy to hate her for the things she said about you, for the thoughts she put into Jeongguk’s head. But deep inside, right next to your rotten heart, there’s something small that’s telling you it’s easiest to hate her because you aren’t her. 

 An achy heaviness levels in your gut and you press your eyes shut tightly, consciously making an effort to not tear up. It still hurts so badly. In a way you don’t even really understand. You’re not sure if it stems from jealousy or insecurity or maybe both. 

 But there is something so excruciatingly painful, something that feels so devastatingly unfair, about Jeongguk and Dasom.

 It’s absurd and it’s stupid to let an ex get to you. You know that and you’re aware that it’s the past and that it’s over between them… but when you think about all of the history? It’s enough to overthink and compare. To wonder ‘what if?’, ask yourself ‘why?’ and ‘does he still?’.  

 Because they loved each other; were in love with each other. They had the sweetest little baby girl together. Dasom will always know Jeongguk in a way that you won’t. She will always know versions of him that you never will. She will always have a part of him and be a part of his life. She will always know him longer than you. No matter what –even if you and Jeongguk had stayed together, fallen in love, and gotten married– she was still there first. In a sense, you won’t ever be able to catch up to her– to them or what they had.

 You almost have to laugh at yourself for thinking like that because it’s so pathetically dramatic and pointless. Because yes, letting an ex get to you is both absurd and stupid. But especially so when you let it get to you after months. 

 Bitterly, you consider that maybe Jeongguk was right. Maybe you were too young for him, and maybe you really weren’t ready for everything that came with him.

 When your thoughts are reeled back in, you tell Jade about Jeongguk’s text you never answered.

 “God what a whore,” Binna groans. “What kind of person asks that after cutting you out of their life?”

 “A man,” Jade reasons.

 It makes you chuckle a small laugh, and the silence that settles this time is a little more comfortable. A couple of minutes pass with the three of you pretending to watch Jade’s show when Binna clears her throat.

 She tries to keep her voice light and casual, acts as if she’s just making conversation. “You’ve been lurking, no?”

 She will be disappointed when you admit that you’ve tried. But she’ll also be pleased to know that you simply can’t.

 “He doesn’t have Instagram.” You shrug your shoulders as if it’s not a big deal and like your recently searched isn’t full of accounts that have some variation of Jeongguk’s name in the user.

 “He probably has Facebook, he’s old,” Jade says absently, eyes glued to the television once again.

 Binna gets a worried look on her face when she can physically see the lightbulb go off in your head. Then her expression shifts into one of tired disapproval. “Thank you for that, Jade.”

 Jade’s reply is simply a preoccupied, half-hearted ‘My bad’.

 But you do not care and your phone is already out. 

 You’re trying to move on, you are. Truly. One peek won’t hurt. Also–

 “He’s not old, he’s only 29,” you say distractedly, waiting for the app to download before the phone is promptly plucked from your hands. “Hey–”

 “Give me that,” Binna interrupts, “If you look him up, you will come up in his ‘people you may know’. I don’t want that for you, and you don’t want that for you. Trust me.”

 With a frowny pout on your face, you settle back into that couch. “Well… I don’t want you coming up in whatever that is either, right?” 

 “You do not need to worry about that because I am a professional and I am crazy. What’s his last name again?”

 Professional and crazy sound like adjectives that are not supposed to go together, but you don’t argue and when she pulls out her own phone, you answer her. 

 Binna’s sleuthing seems to be entertaining enough for Jade to abandon her show, moving from her place at your feet to a seat next to Binna looking over her shoulder. Nervousness keeps you from joining, quietly just waiting for the few moments it takes for Binna to find what she’s looking for. 

 “Ah! Jeon Jeongguk, 30, C–” she gasps, eyes wide as she looks at you, “you didn’t tell us he was a CEO!”

 You shrug. “Didn’t seem important. And I told you already, he’s 29. Not 30.”

 Binna’s brows furrow before she’s looking at her phone again, bringing it close to her face and using her thumbs to zoom in on the profile picture. “Is this not him?”

 “No, that’s him,” Jade confirms, face close to Binna’s. “I’ve seen enough pictures of him in the groupchat that I also see him in my dreams.”

 “Please don’t dream about him,” you say musingly, reaching to snatch the phone from Binna just like she did to you.

 It is in fact your Jeon Jeongguk pictured on the phone. His profile picture is candid, him smiling wide with those puffs under his eyes, probably mid-laugh. But it still seems professional enough, he’s in one of his many expensive suits, with his tie on, and his hair done sleek.

 And you can feel how a small, sad smile comes to rest on your lips. You carefully click on the picture to see when it was posted.

 Just a couple of weeks ago. 

 And the small, sad smile gets even smaller and even sadder. He looks happy enough, and you hope he is. But it stings a little for some reason. 

 Then you remember why you pilfered the phone in the first place.

 Looking over his profile, you see the basic information. His alumn, his job, his hometown. You click the ‘about info’ option below all of that and it’s then that you see his birthday, and that his age is indeed 30. And you feel silly, a little embarrassed, for not knowing. Or maybe forgetting?

 Though, you’re almost positive you didn’t forget. That you wouldn’t have forgotten something like his birthday. That you couldn’t have because Jeongguk was your favorite person. 

 You trade Binna her phone back for yours.

 The photos in your camera roll on his alleged birthday are from what you thought was a random day that Jeongguk asked you to come over.

 It was kinda spontaneous for him. Considering he was someone that usually liked to plan, getting a random phone call from him while you were still at work was out of character. He simply asked if you wanted to come over. Just laze around with him, watch a movie, or something. Stay the night, maybe. He sounded slightly boyish when he asked, like he was trying to mask the hopeful excitement in his voice. You told him yes, of course, but that you wouldn’t be able to come until after work. 

 When you showed up at his, still clad in your work uniform, he was beaming. You barely made it through the door before he was literally giving you the shirt off his back to change into, helping you out of your polo and khakis.

 In the photo you’re looking at, your head is in Jeongguk’s lap and he’s shirtless looking at the tv with his hand over your mouth. You had been purposefully asking too many questions, just like you always did. The picture was taken from below so the angle is a little funny.

 And even though you’re smiling at the memory, the image turns blurry as you start to tear up. Something about it warms your heart while simultaneously breaking it. 

 Apparently, he didn’t want gifts, or anything extravagant. Seeing as he omitted telling you it was the one day of the year that everything was supposed to be about him, the one day he was supposed to be doted on. Jeongguk just wanted to be with you. Just your company was enough for him. Just you were enough for him.

 “He never told me it was his birthday, but he asked me to come over,” you tell your friends, with your thumb swiping through the many pictures you took that day. “Like me just being there was a good enough birthday present or something?”

 Jade can hear the waver in your voice, and she gently says, “Maybe we shouldn’t look at old pics if it’s going to make us sad, hmm?”

 “Maybe we should delete them, hmm?” Binna chirps.

 You hear them but you continue till you get through the whole night and the next morning. The tears are so heavy in your eyes, but you try to laugh, dabbing at your waterline with your sleeve when you say, “I like– really miss him, guys,” before you end up just covering your face with your palms and letting yourself have your moment.

 Jade coos, scooching closer to you, pulling you to her side. She rubs your shoulder soothingly. “I know you do, ___,” she says quietly. 

 Your roommate has really come a long way since the first conversation you had with her about Jeongguk. The other roommate, however, seems like she is regressing. 

 “We have got to get you out of the house and onto another dick. Your vibrator is tired and your pillow probably smells like the ocean because of all the tears it’s soaked up. It probably needs a wash, too.”

 “Binna!” Jade scolds.

 “No, like I’m so serious right now,” Binna defends, “I understand being sad over a breakup, but it’s been months. And over a grown man who lets his literal ex-wife, whom he divorced, still have such a pull on him? Like c’mon. What the fuck is that?”

 “She’s allowed to be sad! And those things you listed make her sadness even more warranted. You were holed up in your room for months too, at one point,” Jade reminds, “But it was over a boyband breaking up.”

 “In hindsight, it was very good for Zayn to leave,” Binna amends before giving you her attention. “Listen I get it, but I just want you to be happy again… You know?”

 When you peek up at her with a sniffle, she looks sad.

 “I don’t want you to get stuck in the sad and the hurt, ___,” she says quietly, “because sometimes when people get stuck in the sad and in the hurt, they can’t like– get unstuck. You know? Nothing gets better. The depression just swallows them and they don’t ever feel better and– I want you to feel better.”

 Binna’s not the most eloquent, but she has the biggest heart. And you know she means well, and despite how stuck in the sad and the hurt you truly are, you know that she does have a point. 

 You have to brood over it for a moment, and you kind of feel like you’re outside of your body when you agree. Like you’re hearing someone else say, “Okay, where are we going?”

 ~~~

 The club lights are too bright and strobing too fast, just asking for someone to seize. Your feet hurt because the heels you’re wearing are too high. You figured the weeks following New Year’s would be less crowded, that everyone would be recovering from blackouts and bad decisions. The sheer number of people around you tells you otherwise. You’re not having a good time. 

 When you tell your roommates as much, their response is handing you a shot. A few shots.

 And since alcohol is essentially magic, with every shot glass that is emptied down your throat, the night grows more enjoyable and less likely to be remembered. The lights turn pretty, and the ache in your feet becomes dull and muted, just like the one in your heart. 

 You’re dancing how a person who doesn’t know how to would. Hips swaying, arms occasionally going above your head before slinking back down and over your body. The bass in the club makes it feel like everything is vibrating and it makes you laugh dumbly, eyes squeezing shut as you giggle to yourself. You know Binna and Jade are close by, but it feels like you’re in your own little world.

 “I feel good,” you yell over the music to no one in particular. Eyes still closed, a loose-lipped smile lingering at the corners of your mouth.

 The warmth of a body can be felt behind you, though it’s not quite pressing against you yet. It doesn’t feel bad, and neither do the fingertips ghosting along the curve of your waist. You press into the touch, the heat, a little more. A chiffon chuckle is puffed over the crown of your head. The tentative fingers at your waist get more firm, their grip trying to steady you.

 “You look good, too,” the body behind you says, lips brushing the shell of your ear. It makes chills prick at your skin.

 You bite your lip to keep from smiling at the sensation, at the words. Your hand goes to cover the bigger one on your waist. You intentionally keep the touch constant when you turn around in their hold. Their palm slides along your body till it’s settling on your lower back just above the swell of your ass.

 When you look up, your reply gets caught in your throat.

 The owner of the warm body behind you is handsome, strikingly so. Tall, strong. Smile dreamy, and eyes dark. He gives you a soft grin accompanied by an encouraging nod, wanting you to say what you can’t seem to get out.

 “Uh–” you sputter with a wince, before clearing your throat, “I– yeah, um… thanks, you too.”

 You can’t hear his laugh over the music, but you can tell he’s amused by the way his chest rumbles, and how his eyes curl. The hand at the base of your spine moves to your hip, squeezing gently.

 His other hand is moving, too, and your track it till it’s tucking some hair behind your ear. You go still and flush when he leans down to your ear again. “I’m Seo-joon,” he tells you.

 Introducing yourself is the automatic reply he gets, and he hums, eyes scanning your face. The hand that tucked your hair trails down your arm until his fingers meet yours. They flirt for a moment before they lace together. His movements seem shy, but they’re actually very calculated. Well practiced. Like he does this a lot. Like he knows exactly how to get what he wants. 

 The realization sobers you some. Not enough to clear all of the drunken fog in your head, but enough to make you vaguely more alert. 

 “I think you’re a… a little too good at this for me, Mr. Seo-joon.” 

 Seo-joon briefly looks surprised, eyes widening like a child who’s been caught in a lie. Then he’s recovering, laughing. “Ah,” he muses, guiding your arms to drape over his shoulders, your hands interlocking behind his neck. His hands do the same around your waist as he pulls you a little closer. “I don’t know, you might be the one that’s too good? Too smart? Read me like an open book.”

 There’s a flutter in your tummy that you haven’t felt in months and it’s exciting. Makes you giddy as you blink up at him sluggishly, eyelids heavy. 

 “Are you not?” you ask him, coquettishly referring to him being easy to read. “Aren’t you here for the usual?”

 He looks up like he’s thinking. Then he’s shrugging, like there’s no point in denying the obvious. Crowding your space, cheek brushing yours as he talks into your ear again, he asks, “And why are you here, ___? The usual, as well?”

 Seo-joon doesn’t move out of your space like the times he did before, instead pulling you into him a bit more, making your space his space too. Lips brush against the corner of your jaw, just below your ear. Teasing, yet sure. 

 “I’m here to forget–” Your hand twines into the hair at the nape of his neck when he nips softly at your earlobe, making you gasp quietly, interrupting yourself. “–about someone.”

 He lets out a smug sound of understanding. “That’s about as ‘usual’ as it gets, ___,” you hear him say, before he purrs confidently, “Let me help you.”

 And when he molds his lips to yours, you expect the kiss to feel as good as the lead-up. 

 You expect the butterflies in your belly to flutter wildly– not go still. You expect the hands roaming over your body to feel rousing– not misplaced, like they aren’t supposed to be there. When you open your mouth to let him lick inside, you expect it to feel right. But it doesn’t. Sure, it doesn’t feel wrong, necessarily. But it doesn’t feel like it should. He doesn’t feel like he should.

 But you want him to. You want Seo-joon to feel right, and you want him to feel good. You want it so badly that you go home with him. 

 ~~~

 The cab ride is nothing but a precursor– something that needs to happen but not something that needs to be remembered. It’s just a soft blur that prequels his soft bed, his soft kisses, his soft pets. 

 Seo-joon is being gentler than he was at the club. 

 Under the hazy hue of the club lights, the strong hands that tugged at the straps of your dress were confident, cunning, audacious, and assertive. Boldly expectant of the outcome he was so sure he would get. 

 Under his sheets, those same hands are… not exactly timid, but ginger with their eagerness. Delicate, imploring, coy, and suggestive; tactfully encouraging, rather than expecting, the outcome that he hopes for. The way his hips brush against yours is unhurried and intentional. The crass, dirty movements from before that were careless and unrefined are long gone. Now he’s patient. Grinding into you slowly, deliberate.

 However, the change in pace, in the scenery, and in his demeanor– none of it makes the kisses taste any sweeter; none of it makes the touches feel any better; none of it makes anything good enough in the effortless way you long for. 

 It’s counterintuitive but the lack of ease, paired with the desire for it, just makes you try harder. Redouble your efforts.

 You press your lips against his in a kiss that’s harder, dig your nails into his shoulders with a grip that’s harder. When you cant your hips up against his just so– you do it harder. He gets a little harder in his pants, and the thoughts in your head get a little harder to ignore. Faking gets harder and pretending does too.

 Seo-joon is smart enough. He’s probably been around enough, too. With experience under his belt, it doesn’t take him long to sense the shift. The way your energy dulls, the slight tension tugging at your frame underneath him. But still, it doesn’t stop him from testing the waters one more time, giving you a few more unsure, assessing kisses. 

 To no avail.

 With furrowed brows, he pulls away. Seo-joon doesn’t look angry, though. Just confused as he braces himself on his forearms, lifting himself just enough to be able to take you in, most of his body weight still resting atop you.

 He clears his throat. “You don’t uh– you don’t really… seem to be– into this? Anymore? Into me?” 

 Your expression probably mirrors his. Confused, and maybe a little lost as you study him. Because he’s handsome. Almost unbelievably so, with his high cheekbones and sharp eyes; his nose and mouth that appear perfectly placed; his smooth, airbrushed skin.

 You should be into him. Superficially at the very least.

 But you just aren’t because even though he is handsome, flawless even, he’s attractive in a very ordinary, classical way. There doesn’t seem to be anything signature about Seo-joon’s features. 

 When he smiled at the club, it was idyllic and exactly symmetrical. His cheeks filled out, but just enough. His teeth –a dentist’s dream– were pristine, perfectly proportioned, and all of them just the right size. So white that they were almost beaming in the dim lights. 

 And even now, when he attempts an uneasy one to shake awkwardness it’s… fine. His plush lips are fine and his straight nose is fine and his even brows are fine and everything about Seo-joon is perfectly fine. 

 But, to you, he’s not really anything special. 

 Surface level, Seo-joon’s perfectly fine. But so are so many other perfectly fine, classically beautiful, ordinary men. There’s nothing that sets him apart. No defining characteristics, nothing about Seo-joon that makes him him. 

 Yet you can’t stop yourself from thinking that even if there were, it wouldn’t matter. 

Because you already know what makes someone special to you. 

 You’re well aware of the distinctive features that make your heart flutter. Like when someone smiles and their bottom lip tugs down just a hint farther on the left side. Or when they get little rounds under their eyes and scrunch their nose when they laugh. When he has things about himself that are slightly imperfect. Like big front teeth or a barely off-center freckle under his bottom lip. Like the deep scar on his cheek that he got from his brother when they were little. Or the faint one by his eyebrow from the piercing he had in college that had to be taken out before it was yanked out by a tiny hand. 

 The man you’re sharing a bed with could be the most uniquely attractive person on earth and it wouldn’t make a difference. It still wouldn’t make him special– not to you. 

 He’s not what you want.

 You hum when you admit it to yourself. 

 “I’m not.”

 Momentarily, Seo-joon looks taken aback by your seemingly rash rethink, but he takes your drunken bluntness in stride. He gives you a forced smile before he hangs his head in an apologetic bow, shifting from on top of you to lay next to you. “I see, I’m sorry if I assumed or overstepped or made you feel like you had to come home with m–”

 Seo-joon sounds guilty, and it surprises you when a hint of guilt starts to bloom in your chest.

 “You didn’t!” you interrupt, “I thought I was into you… or like I should be into you…”

 His eyebrow quirks and he just looks at you.

 “Ah…” you muse awkwardly, scanning the room. 

 It’s so very bachelor. Dark furniture, a big tv mounted on the wall, a little bar cart off to the side next to the mini fridge that’s kinda big to be called ‘mini’. Nothing personal at all that could tell you anything about him, except the boxers on the floor that tells you he prefers Armani. No hint as to what his goals or his hobbies are. 

 Perhaps it's a good thing you didn’t sleep with Seo-joon. Guys like him have the most brutal post-nut clarity and you’re not sure you could take another grown man hurting your feelings. 

 “I just don’t want you to think like– I don’t know? That you did something wrong? Or that you like coerced me into coming h–” 

 “Wait, I didn’t think that–”

 “–I’m the one that should be sorry!” you assure him, “Because I don’t think I actually went out to try and forget someone; I think I was trying to find them?”

 A couple of stilted seconds pass. 

 “In… me?” he asks, like he’s mentally trying to puzzle the pieces together.

 “I guess? Maybe replace them with you? Or like… use you… as a placeholder?” You wince helplessly at your choice of words, unable to stop them before they spill out. 

 Seo-joon’s confusion is replaced by a quick, bright laugh which is followed by a small smile that seems almost pitying. 

 “You’re still young–”

 You physically cannot stop the way you interrupt him with.

 “Please shut the fuck up.”

 The tired words are spat tartly before you can clench your teeth around them. It’s probably a defense mechanism– you’re not quite sure you can handle another grown man being mean to you, but you’re almost very sure that you can’t handle one lecturing you about how young you are, about how much life you still have left to live, about how your youth makes it difficult to know what you really want, about how–

 “Whoa,” he laughs. He’s on his side, his head propped up on his palm. He eyes you for a moment before he tugs the strap of your bra back up, haphazardly covering you again. “Sore spot?” 

 Pulling his sheets up for good measure, you pout. “He was older.”

 Seo-joon makes a noise of understanding. “Older like… older brother’s friends older? Or older like met him at your dad’s work party older?”

 Heat floods the rounds of your cheeks and you look anywhere but at the man next to you. No photos in frames. Not even a dvd collection that could tell you what type of movies he likes.

 “He’s like– dad old,” you murmur, chancing a glance at Seo-joon only to see him pull a queasy-looking face, and then you’re backtracking to defend yourself. “But only like baby-dad old! Not like– teenager-dad old!”

 He looks unconvinced. “How big’s the gap?”

 “7 years?” you try.

 Seo-joon goes from unconvinced to shocked and then to puzzled. “That’s like… nothing? Probably around our gap too?”

 Your hands fly up and you scoff a little as you exasperate, “That’s what I said!”

 He joins in and you both laugh in his bed until the giggles putter out into lazy silence. You’re pulling at a little tuft of lint when he hums.

 “He told you that you were too young?”

 You open your mouth to reply immediately, but then hesitate. 

 Because your age was part of it. Of course, it was, but was it all of it? Was it the root of it?

 “I mean you are; not too young, just… young. But–” Seo-joon grins smugly, giving you a pointed look when he sees you scowl, “–youth isn’t a bad thing. And you’re smart. I meant it when I said that.”

 Rolling your eyes, you say, “We literally just met–”

 “Yeah, and?” he counters, just for the sake of it because he still doesn’t allow a reply. “We only just met and I could already tell that you were smart. Even though I tried, I knew my… methods wouldn’t work on you. You read me like an open book,” he repeats what he said earlier that night, before speaking slowly like he’s spelling something out for you. “and I’m sure I’m not the only one you’re able to read like that?”

 Your scowl intensifies. “What are you getting at?”

 “This boy you’re trying to ‘forget’? ‘Find’?” The hand that’s not supporting him comes up and he makes some air quotes. His tone is a little softer, like maybe he’s trying to be gentle. Or maybe he’s just tired of talking to you. You can’t be sure.

 “I feel like you’re smart enough to know if the whole thing is worth it or not. How long ago was it?”

 “A month or 2… give or take 17 days…” you mumble, avoiding his gaze.

 “Okay. But yeah… that’s a good chunk of time…” he says around a quick yawn. Then he hums thoughtfully to himself. “I feel like you could think back and read the situation a bit more clearly now? Like, reassess it to… you know… I don’t know just figure stuff out…”

 “‘You know, I don’t know’, ‘Just figure stuff out’, ” you mimic dryly, “That’s all the advice you have to offer me when you’ve lived lifetimes longer than me?”

 “Listen, you can’t hate all men because of one man–”

 “Yes, I ca–”

 “Okay but, you don’t even hate that one man? That’s the whole issue?” Seo-joon interrupts. He lilts his tone up in an inquisitive manner, like he wants you to confirm. 

 You refuse and choose to reply with petulant silence.

 “Exactly. C’mon, use that big, smart brain in that pretty, little head of yours,” he encourages, “Look back and just figure stuff out. It might be hard, but not as hard as you think. I feel like time away from what we think we need or want, always puts things into perspective. Distance makes the heart fonder, or–” He pauses for dramatic effect. “It makes the heart indifferent.”

 Not rolling your eyes is a feat, but you manage. “Clearly my heart did not become indifferent if I am laid up with you and still going on about it.”

 Seo-joon hums again, carries on some more. But you’re not paying attention because maybe time didn’t put things into perspective, but his words just did.

 Distance and time make the heart indifferent.

 Jeongguk hasn’t been to your store once since you left his house. 

 You frown, connecting imaginary dots as a little wrinkle sprouts between your brows. “He hasn’t come to see me since he cut things off.”

 Seo-joon pauses mid-sentence, mimes your expression. “Did you expect him to?”

 You pause now. 

 “Um… kinda?” you start. Rolling to your side you copy his position so you can look at him. “I mean, I work at the grocery store he would normally shop at,” you explain, before tacking on, “That’s where we met. He lost his baby and I found her… Or– she found me I guess.”

 A small twinge of pain pricks your heart at the mention of Nari. You wonder if she’s talking, or if she’s at least getting closer. If she still doesn’t keep the sock on her left foot, or if she’s grown out of that nerve-wracking yet endearing little habit of hers. 

 What Dasom said about Nari getting attached comes to mind and you hope the little one is doing well. It hurts a little to think about, but you hope for her sake, that she didn’t get too attached or too sad when you stopped coming around. You hope she forgot you quickly.

 “Anyway,” you say, “Guess that means his heart became indifferent.”

 Giving a half-hearted shrug with a single shoulder, aiming to come off unbothered. Trying to act indifferent yourself, and like your heart didn’t just drop. You blink a couple of times in an attempt to clear the glassiness you know is cloaking your eyes and offer a weak smile.

 Regarding you with a slightly concerned color to his features, Seo-joon chooses to not address the passing mention of a misplaced child or the fact that you’re very close to crying while half-naked in his bed. Decidedly, he says, “I’m not sure if I would call avoidance indifference.”

 You sniffle. “Huh?”

 His eyes narrow and he looks like he’s debating something internally. Then he sighs. “Listen, I’m not trying to encourage you to wait for him or go back to him. Or like… give you false hope–”

 “Gee, thanks–”

 “No really,” he stresses, “because that genuinely could be nothing. Men are a bit dense. They do things that may seem calculated, but in actuality, they’re just daft and it didn’t even cross their mind. But in my opinion,” he continues slowly, a bit hesitantly, “Choosing to not go to the grocery store he –I’m assuming– frequented regularly? Right after a breakup?” He sucks a bit of air in through his teeth before he shakes his head. “Yeah, that seems like a very deliberate choice.”

 “Like indifference would be more–” he continues before pausing briefly to choose the right words, “I picture indifference as more of– him still going to your work, despite the breakup, because he just doesn’t give a fuck.”

 Whatever words you were planning to say get caught in your throat and you cough out a short laugh at Seo-joon’s straightforwardness. 

 He grins a little. “Right? Because that’s what it is– a lack of interest, lack of concern. Like he just doesn’t care one way or the other about you being there because you’re not important enough for him to be affected by you.”

 You know he’s speaking in hypotheticals, but it still sours your expression. Makes your lips pull down at the corners.

 “Personally, if I were him and I was truly indifferent, truly unbothered,” he places his hand on his bare chest, “you being there or not being there wouldn’t be significant enough for me to alter my routine.”

 Your eyes flit quickly over Seo-joon’s torso. His gesture causes the sheet to fall slightly, pooling at the subtle curve of his waist. There’s a faint warmth flooding your cheeks as you swiftly and intently bring your gaze back up. 

 You swallow before replying with a simple, “Ah… yes… that makes perfect sense.”

 Playfully, Seo-joon scowls at you. “You sure you don’t want to fuck?”

 “Yup.”

 “It may help–”

 “Nope, don’t think it will actually.”

 He shrugs, an amused grin still lingering. “Suit yourself–”

 “I feel like your post-nut clarity would hurt my feelings and I’m vulnerable right now.”

 It’s silent for 1, 2, 3 seconds before Seo-joon’s loud laughter echoes in his room. Failing to keep a straight face, he rolls on his back and rests his head on his pillow as he lets himself laugh to his heart’s content. Then he inhales deeply and scrubs a hand over his face and swipes a finger beneath his bottom lashes; catching his breath and regaining his composure and wiping away the wetness under his eyes. 

 A few seconds pass before he’s turning his head to look at you with a quiet smile. It feels a bit too tender, too sincere, and too heartfelt, for what was supposed to be a one-night-stand. 

 “See,” he says softly, “told you you were smart.”

 You just look at him, trying to read him like he’s so sure you can. There doesn’t seem to be any ulterior motives, just him being genuinely kind to you because he wants to be. And for some reason that makes your eyes burn.

 “If it doesn’t hurt too badly to revisit everything that went on with the boy,” Seo-joon begins, interrupting the light hush that settled between the two of you, “I really feel like you’ll be able to see things clearer; read the situation better. Figure stuff out. And then, things will start to fall into place for you. Everything will start to make a little more sense. You’ll know if you’re wasting your time being hung up on him, and if it’s worth your happiness. You’ll know if looking for him is worth the effort, and you’ll be sure that ‘finding’ him is actually what you want after all.”

 You’re definitely going to cry.

 “And when I said you were still young, and that your youth wasn’t a bad thing,” he continues, “I meant that if you decide that you do want to look for him, and you do find him again– you still have enough time to try with him again.”

 With a wobbly bottom lip, you feel your features slowly morph into a scowl.

 It’s self-directed because it’s then that you think about what’s happening and how ridiculous it all seems.

 Because why are you on the tail end of being drunk, half-naked in the bed of a grown man who you met just hours ago? Why are you telling him bits and pieces about the person he was supposed to distract you from? The person that caused you the most delicately painful ache that’s been festering for months? Why are letting this man give you advice? Why are you letting him comfort you? And why does it feel like he’s done a better job of it by just listening to you for the last few hours, than friends you’ve had for years? 

 And why do you feel like you’re going to cry about it?

 The self-directed scowl morphs to a Seo-joon-directed glare.

 “He’s not a boy,” you begin in a voice that shakes just a hint, arguing just to be difficult, “he’s a man with the cutest baby and he’s 30 now and–” The urge to cry cuts you off and you feel the first tear leak from the corner of your eye. 

 Seo-joon’s soft, sincere smile turns slightly sad as he tracks the salty drop. “Hey, don’t cry–”

 “Shut-up,” you spout, your tone somewhere in between short and like you’re begging him to be quiet because it was him speaking that brought you to this state in the first place. 

 A short staring contest ensues.

 “Also– I bet you would’ve been the worst fucking one-night stand,” you add on for good measure. 

 Seo-joon’s ability to keep from laughing is impressive. It’s only for a second that an amused smile overtakes his features– a natural reflex he isn’t able to stop. But it’s barely there at all before he’s schooling his features into something that he hopes looks receptive, like he’s taking in what you’re saying, absorbing it like it’s Gospel. 

 But he’s also a curious motherfucker, and he wants to know why you think that. 

 “That is baseless and an unfounded assumption,” he defends himself, because he may be receptive, but he is also a damn good one-night stand. “With that being said, please tell me why you feel that way.”

 “Because I’m crying! And it’s because of you! You and your making of us bare our fucking souls during pillowtalk! Who does that?!” 

 It’s huffy and snippy and you both know you’re being mean just for the sake of it. 

 With lips pressed into a tight, smile-proof line, Seo-joon nods easily; agreeable and understanding.

 He knows you’re fragile and that you’re tired– so he chooses not to voice how he considers what you talked about very surface level. How he thinks you may be more hurt and affected by whatever took place between you and this guy than you even realize yet. How he feels like you still have so much to work through, so much to learn.

 Seo-joon lets you win and reminds himself that, right now, it’s not his job to help you soothe the things that hurt or fix the things that are broken. Reminds himself that you’re smart enough to figure stuff out on your own.  

 There’s a brief lull in the conversation that’s not as awkward or tense as it probably should be.

 You sniffle. Then you hiccup.

 And Seo-joon laughs, loud and brash and fond as he leans towards you. He gives you what feels like a platonic kiss on your forehead. 

 “Can I get your number?”

 ~~~

 It’s an early Thursday morning in late January and Jeongguk is feeling troubled. Plagued, if you will, as he towels off after his morning shower. Plagued with the ever-growing, ever-evolving urge to check up on you. To see how you’re doing.

 Lurking, as Taehyung calls it, doesn’t happen all that often. Jeongguk makes a point to not let himself do it daily. Or even weekly. It was his New Year’s resolution, in fact. That being said, it’s been exactly 12 days since he’s used his friend’s 8-year-old son’s instagram account to see what you’ve been up to.

 Typically, he can talk himself out of the sudden notion. Put it off until he forgets, or just doesn’t feel he needs to so badly anymore. Currently, however, he’s blaming his inability to nix the restlessness in his fingertips on the fact that he hasn’t had Nari around to keep him busy. It’s been a long week.

 Because Jeonggk’s been doing his best to keep himself from opening your page for what feels like days. Resisting the pesky pull even though he doubts you’ve even posted. Out of the times he’s given in over the last few weeks, he thinks you’ve posted maybe once. And it was just a picture of some clouds at that– vaguely heart-shaped, wispy, white puffs against sky-blue. The caption was just two emojis, the wind-face lady next to the white heart. 

 So frankly, even though he’s not exactly keen on how strong and itchy the urge to check on you is– he’s also not exactly sure why he’s fighting it. Not when merely scratching it isn’t going to change anything. 

 After shrugging on his work blazer, Jeongguk admits defeat– his inner demons having won yet again. He resigns to apathetic, easily accepted complacency as he swipes through the pages on his home screen till he gets to the very last one that houses the small, sunset-colored camera app. He figures he should probably just get it over with.  

 As he touches the application open, Jeongguk reasons that he’s just been putting off the inevitable– that he knows an itch can’t be ignored and that it won’t be quelled until it’s scratched or soothed. Tells himself that a quick peek before heading out for work won’t matter.

 As he clicks on the mini magnifying glass at the bottom of the screen, Jeongguk reminds himself of lurking’s insignificance. Thinks back to all the times he’s done it before and how it never made a difference. 

 As he sorts through the random selection of 8-year-old boy searches till he finds your user in the mix, he reassures himself that checking on you won’t do anything but alleviate the nagging in the back of his head and the tingling in his fingertips. 

 As he taps your profile, he convinces himself that lurking will be relieving and nothing more.

 As Jeongguk sees that you have posted, he realizes that this time, lurking does matter and that he is so very stupid for assuming it would bring him relief.

 The picture is blurry, not unlike a handful of others he’s seen on your feed. 

 But the setting captured is new. The pink-tinted lighting isn’t familiar, and neither is the purple and blue hues. The crowd you captured is much more… abundant than what he’s become accustomed to seeing when he pulls up your page. 

 Jeongguk scans the photo for just a bit longer and then swipes to the next one in the post. This one is the final stupid nail in the coffin of Jeongguk’s stupid demise. The couple shot glasses grouped together in blurry cheers are all the confirmation he needs to know exactly where you were. His eyes flick to your caption, and then his features pull into a pensive frown with furrowed brows.

 BUT FOUR DRINKS IM WASTED !! 

 Jeongguk taps open the comments.

 flickthebinna: you’ve had exactly two (2) shots

ocstagram: i am Wasted !! 🤬

jadedjade: can u let her be wasted and focus on getting our drinks @flickthebinna 🤨

 He can’t help but chuckle at your and your friends�� interactions, but as he closes the app he catches himself doing a certain habit of his. The little tick where he tilts his head and juts his jaw out quickly. His telltale sign of irritation.

 Irritated with himself, of course. Partly because of the obvious. The spying (from a child’s social media account nonetheless), the moping that he’s been doing for months, the procrastinating and avoiding that’s been going on for almost just as long. 

 But also because he feels so embarrassingly immature for allowing what he finds out from the spying to affect him so deeply. It seems so very juvenile to get this worked up over an instagram post. 

 He’s irritated at the emotional rush and the way his hands are shaking. At the way his mind is jumping to conclusions and conjuring up all sorts of sour scenarios. He’s irritated with himself for the way unwarranted jealousy burns in his chest. 

 The irritation stews; sits in the passenger seat as he makes the drive to work– right next to the sudden instinct to act on a restless whim. The irritation festers; accompanies the worsening impulsive urge that makes it hard to think and ultimately pushes him to make a wrong turn. 

 The irritation is only sated when he pulls up to a curb and his car comes to a stop. 

 Jeongguk’s irritated with himself for a lot of things. But mostly because it took him so long to get here.

 ~~~

 He’s not sure why he anticipated you answering the door. Karma wouldn’t be so kind, and he wouldn’t be so lucky. Obviously.

 “And why the fuck are you here?” This is how Binna greets him, after taking him in with a groggy, borderline bored stare. 

 With a wince, Jeongguk tries, “Hi Binna–”

 “Don’t you have a job?” she interrupts, the volume of her tone increasing with every word. “Aren’t you so busy? So busy, in fact, that it’s so hard to find the time for–”

 He opens his mouth to try and get a word in but stops abruptly. So does Binna when she feels a soft hand on her shoulder, and hears a grumpy ‘Why are you being so loud?’.

 Right in front of him, you’re still half-asleep. Drowsily using the sleeve of the oversized sweatshirt you’re wearing to rub over your face tiredly. Seeing as he decided to show up at a little past 8 in the morning.  

 After a few slow, dreamy blinks, you direct your attention to Jeongguk and he feels like he can’t breathe.

 It’s unconscious, how his lips turn up a smidge when he really sees you for the first time in what feels like forever. When he sees the warmth that lives inside of you color your skin with the softest, natural flush. 

 Jeongguk is still so jealous. 

 He watches you and he studies you. Now that he’s not relying on his memories or the pictures in his camera roll or the ones on your socials– he’s trying to pick out what’s the still same; how you’ve changed. Your hair is a bit longer, a shade or two darker as well. Maybe it’s the big hoodie you’ve got on, but you look smaller than he remembers. In his chest, he feels his heart tug but he can’t dwell on it too much as he refocuses on your features beginning to stir. 

 They shift from dazedly blank to shocked, as if your still-sleepy brain has just now registered him being there, and the smallest gasp sounds from your lips. Then an expression that’s a cross between confused and angry takes the place of prior surprise. The doe-ish look becomes sharp and stern; your narrowed eyes are framed above by scrunched brows and below by shadowy circles. Your mouth goes from slack with your plush lips barely parted, to pouty and pursed in a deep frown.

 Jeongguk knows he should say something. 

 Explain. 

 Say sorry. 

 Ask for forgiveness. 

 But he feels mute, like his heart is stuck in his throat. Like he can’t do anything but stand there and hope you show him a little bit of undeserved grace. That you give him a moment, and then another, to get himself together. Even though he’s had too many moments already to do exactly that.

 In the few seconds that go by you shoo your roommate, and after she’s gone, your face changes once again. Softening just enough to not be so harsh. You stand in your doorway as he flounders and you watch with intent, almost curious, anticipation. And Jeongguk doesn’t want to be too optimistic– but he thinks there might be a hint of relief, an inkling of eager, hopeful expectation hiding in the way you’re looking at him. 

 As if you’ve been waiting for him; wanting him– and now he’s finally here; almost yours. 

 He’s so caught up in that –the minute chance of reconciliation that he only thinks he caught a glimpse of– that he doesn’t get out of his head until the movement of your shoulders slumping, and your chest deflating rips him out of it. 

 Jeongguk would prefer the air your demeanor carried just moments ago. The quiet, masked hopefulness you gave off before you made yourself smaller and breathed that tiny, dejected sigh. God, he would even take the calloused, puzzled hostility you had when you first realized it was him in standing in your doorway. Anything over how you look currently.

 Definitely disappointed, maybe a little bit embarrassed, and just so sad. 

 It’s what he expected, at least to some extent. He’s foolish, but he can only fool himself so much. There’s a limit on how many fantasies of effortless forgiveness he can have before he has to face reality. 

 Jeongguk knew you would be sad, and he knew you would be disappointed. He was ready to take responsibility for the role he played because he was so sure that it would be his fault.

 But what makes how you’re looking at him right now so awful, so unbearable– is that you’re looking at him like it has nothing to do with him. 

 You don’t look disappointed in him. You don’t look sad because of him. 

 It looks internal, so personal. 

 Like you’re sad because you naively allowed yourself to hope– let it glimmer, shining so obvious in your eyes. Only for the brightness to dim, snuffed out by the foolishness that so often goes hand in hand with naivety. 

 Like you’re sad because as soon as you saw him, you had expectations– preconceived notions about how it would go when he came back, how he would act. Only to learn that with enough preconceived notions, you can turn expectations into daydreams.

 Maybe that’s why you look a little embarrassed, too. Because you so quickly let yourself hope, like a child who hasn’t learned from their mistakes. Because you immediately conjured up expectation-disguised daydreams of Jeongguk. Still, after all this time. After everything he’s done, you still expected good from him. 

 You look like you’re disappointed in yourself, not him, because you should have known better.

 He doesn’t find his voice until you’re shaking your head like he’s let you down. Until you’re turning away from him and edging the door closed.

 “I’m sorry!”

 Jeongguk blurts the words out, and he didn’t say much but his chest is heaving and he’s got this frantic way about him and a panicky feeling flooding his veins. When you look up, surprise flashes across your face, but it’s gone in an instant and is replaced by incredulous anger. Like you can’t believe him. 

 Despite your trying to stand your ground and hold his gaze, a gleam still shines in your eyes.

 “I am,” he assures breathlessly, his eyes darting across your face, “I’m so sorry, ___. And–”

 When Jeongguk tells you he misses you, he notices how you almost flinch. How your eyes snap shut tightly –like you can feel his words, but still aren’t sure if they’re real or if they’re true; like you’re scared of finding out– and the heavy tears pooling on your lashline finally spill over. 

 As the salty droplets drip down the apples of your cheeks, Jeongguk feels an ache that hurts so badly that it’s visceral. Like if he could crack open his chest, he could get a hand on the it and just rip the pain out and make it go away. If only that was the case. 

 “I–” you start, but your voice gives out. You clear your throat with a small cough, and talk to the ground because it’s easier to talk to than him. “Maybe we’re better like this, Gguk.”

 Jeongguk’s heart drops, and it’s a struggle to get out even just a whispered a plea of your name.

 When you speak up this time, you force your eyes to meet his. Your brows are upturned and your bottom lip quivers for just a second before you take a deep, self-soothing, breath and school your features into a facade of indifference and resolve. 

 “I hope Nari’s been okay. And you. I hope you’ve been okay, too.”

 Jeongguk’s brows furrow. He’s confused but gives you an unsteady nod. “She– she’s good, yeah.”

 You scan his face, trying to keep your own expression neutral. But how he only mentions Nari and not himself doesn’t evade you. A faint heartache murmurs in your chest, but you mimic his nod. “That’s good. I’m glad–”

 “What about you? Have you been okay?”

 Jeongguk’s words come out overhasty and too eager. But after such a long time of replaying old dialogues in his head– talking to you just feels so nice. He doesn’t want to stop, even if the conversation feels stilted and trivial. He’s still going to hang on to every little marginal thing you say, and he’s still going to do his best to keep the empty words flowing between you.

 He doesn’t realize he’s holding his breath while he awaits your answer. Not until he hears you say, “Yeah, I’m happy, I think” and the air inside his lungs vacates. Making room for a thick cloud of melancholy that isn’t surprising, but still makes it hard to breathe all the same. 

 Guilt mingles with the suffocating hurt because you being happy shouldn’t make him sad.  

 But then you smile and Jeongguk responds with a frown and a skeptical shake of his head. 

 Because the smile– it’s so fake, so unconvincingly artificial and staged that when it turns your eyes to half moons and causes their corners to crinkle– it also forces a fresh wave of tears to tumble down your cry-flushed cheeks. 

 He doesn’t believe you, but that’s no surprise. You’ve never been a good liar.

 A dim, defeated laugh putters from your lips. Trying to portray nonchalance, you give him a weak, half-hearted shrug, like you know you’ve been caught but it can’t be helped.

 He knows it hurts you to dismiss him. He can hear it in your shaky, wispy tone when you say, “Take care, Gguk.”

 Take care Gguk.

 Jeongguk knows it’s a ‘goodbye’. A goodbye that he’s having trouble processing. 

  It feels like a lifetime, but really it’s only a few seconds that Jeongguk stands there trying to make sense of your words. It’s only a few more before the door closes on him. 

 Jeongguk couldn’t process the goodbye, but the telltale click of the door locking somehow makes perfect sense.

 ~~~

 Like you are the starlet of your very own coming of age, lifetime, hallmark romance drama– you don’t let yourself cry until your back is pressed against the closed door. Then you cover your mouth to keep quiet as you slide down the wood.

 The moment is short-lived. 

 “Where’s Jeongguk?”

 The voice seemingly comes from nowhere, and you jump slightly before swearing and directing your puffy, bloodshot eyes at your roommates. They both have their head peeking out from behind the kitchen wall. Nosy.

 “What do you mean ‘where’s Jeongguk?’” you groan, knocking your head back against the wood.

 Binna and Jade exchange a look. 

 “Are you guys like… not gonna… talk?”

 You slow blink at them a single time.

 An awkward quiet permeates the pumpkin-spice-scented air of your shared home. It’s not even Fall anymore. 

 “Well,” Binna starts, and then cuts herself off like she spoke before she knew what she wanted to say. She elbows your other housemate. “Jade?”

 Jade gives you an instinctive, reactionary smile that’s far too big. “I mean… communication is key… right? And that’s mainly what was lacking before? Talking now could give you the oppurtunity to say all the things you’ve been wanting to. And maybe he can explain his side–”

 Binna raises a hand to cut her off, “Too much credit, he is still a man.”

 “Fair but–”

 The two bicker for a bit before looking at you again.

 “Wait, did you not want to work things out?” 

 You roll your eyes. “Of course I wanted to.”

 “Of course you did,” Jade agrees easily. 

 “Of course you did,” Binna mimics before groaning and asking, “So why the hell is he not here, and why the hell are you not talking and ‘working things out’?” 

 Crossing your arms, your posture becomes defensive. “Wouldn’t that be too easy? Like he shows up at my door after all these months of virtual silence and I just let him in? Aren’t I supposed to make him grovel and cry and beg?” 

 “You have to let the man speak for him to be able to grovel and cry and beg, I’m afraid…” Binna informs.

 The narrowing of your eyes is the simple response she gets. Only because Jade speaks up before you can.

 “You know…” Jades starts, then ponders momentarily. “If it was you that showed up at his house out of the blue at 8 in the morning on a weekday? Then yeah,” she nods to herself, “I would say that it was too easy for him. But he came back to you. And just talking to him?” she shakes her head, “That’s not forgiving him. He still has a lot of work to do– and you should make him prove himself. Prove that he’s grown and changed,” Jade says before she gives you a gentle smile. “But him knocking on the door was also him taking the first step.”

 He came back to you.

 It’s what you wanted. But now that it’s happening, you have no clue what to do next. 

 You don’t know what to say. Are you supposed to lie and tell him you’re thankful that he pushed you away; that it helped you realize that he was right? That you are too young? That you’re happier without him, better off being free like he wanted you to be? 

 Or do you tell him the truth? Do you tell him about how hard it was without him? About how painful it was to go from having so much of him, all of the time– to not having none of him at all, ever? Do you come clean about how hollow and lost being alone made you feel? Do you tell him about how much it hurt every time you thought about how all it took was a few words from his ex– and you were gone; cut out so easily and carelessly? Do you admit that it still hurts to remember?

 You don’t know what to do. Do you resist the fight you’re expected to make him put up? Or do you not fight it much at all and welcome him with a second chance and a fresh start? Do you pretend like you didn’t miss him? Like you didn’t fantasize about him coming back? That you didn’t look for pieces of him everywhere you went; in everybody you met? 

 You don’t know how to feel. Happy because he came to you? Sad that it took so long? Scared because him coming back is just another chance for him to leave again?

 You were already crying, but the trickle of tears grows steadier. The sleeve of your sweatshirt is swiped angrily at your eyes, the light grey material dampened a few shades darker. 

 “Bro,” you cry, “I can’t even look at him without crying, I’m not gonna be able to talk to him. It hurts too bad.”

 Jade looks down at you, gives you a pity pout. “If it’s any consolation, I think he will cry too.”

 Binna agrees with a sympathetic nod of her head. “He’s probably hurting just like you, but it’s what he deserves.

 “___,” Jades speaks up again, “It doesn’t have to be so– painstaking. Like you don’t have to drive yourself mad thinking about what you should do. Just do what you want to do. If you want to talk to him, then talk to him.” She shrugs like it’s really that simple.

 And maybe it is. 

 ~~~

 It definitely isn’t.

 Because if it was, you would not have opened with, quote, ‘I let you put your finger in my ass’, unquote. 

 And Jeongguk wouldn’t have replied with a slow, painfully dumb sounding: ‘I– yes… I remember…?’

 You don’t even really know how it happened. 

 One second you’re hit with a burst of inspired adrenaline and then the next you’re knocking the wind out of both you and Jeongguk by barreling into his chest. The collision must have knocked the sense out of you, too. It’s the only explanation for your behavior. 

 All the same, the blame can’t be entirely yours– Jeongguk has to take some of it. He was standing directly outside of your door, after all. He claims he was working up the courage to knock again but that’s beside the point.

 You keep your thoughts to yourself, as you pretend not to catch the way that he rolls his lips between his teeth to keep a smile off his face when you lead him into your room and slyly try to kick a few things under your bed. A stuffed animal, a bra. A few too many socks.

 It’s a stupid attempt to make your space look a little more tidy and less like you’ve been rotting in it for the last few months. The room’s not too messy by any means; definitely not unkempt enough for you to feel embarrassed or like you need to straighten it up to impress him. But you hope he chalks it up to your nerves getting the best of you.

 He’s nervous, too. If how awkward he’s being is anything to go by. 

 Just standing at the foot of your bed with his hands in his pockets while you situate yourself in front of your headboard. He doesn’t take a seat until you pat the mattress a little, letting him know it’s okay and that you want him to. 

 There’s a quiet hush that fills the space. It’s slightly tense, but it’s not entirely uncomfortable; stilted but somehow familiar. 

 You’re sitting with one leg dangling and a pillow in your lap. It’s hugged to your chest. Perhaps a make-shift shield to put something between you and Jeongguk. Fiddling with a loose pillowcase string helps you avoid eye contact by making you look occupied.

 Jeongguk’s sat before you, stiff and looking down at the floor between his feet. Similarly evading your gaze just like you’re doing with his. He’s clenching and unclenching his hands, rubbing his palms restlessly over the material of his slacks. 

 Thinking back, Jeongguk feels like he did so much of the talking that night in his living room. Probably too much, if he’s being honest. He feels he never really gave you the time to say your side or a proper chance to explain yourself. 

 So this time, he wants to let you do most of the talking. Let you be the one to initiate, at the very least. He wants to give you all the time you need to start the discussion how and when you want, with what you want and feel has precedence.

 Jeongguk stays patient right up until you say in a huff, “Well say something, I’m obviously not good at this.”

 His lips twitch at your stubborn, slightly irritated tone. 

 “You’re the one that showed up at my house when I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to be at work, so,” you wave your hand at him, indicating you want him to get on with it. “Must have something important to say.”  

 The small laugh he allows himself is barely a chuckle, but it tumbles from his lips before he can stop it. Blames it on instinct and the simple fact that he just misses you. 

 “It is important,” he confirms, giving into your bait and starting the conversation for you. He considers staying quiet, getting another little reaction out of you, but he reminds himself that this isn’t the time for that. If he plays his cards right, maybe then he’ll be able to joke with you. But as of now, that’s not his place anymore.

 Shifting to face you a little more, so that when he says, “I wanted to apologize to you, ___,” you have his full attention.

 When he speaks, you don’t look at him. Instead, you only give him the faintest nod with your eyes cast down. Still fixed on the pillow in your lap. But Jeongguk notices how your lashes flutter quickly before you press your eyelids together tightly; just like you did earlier when he said that he missed you. 

 Your shoulders lift when you take a deep inhale, and your face is more or less neutral when your eyes meet his. 

 “It’s been months,” you tell him. 

 As if he doesn’t know. As if he hasn’t been driving himself mad day in and day out trying to muster up the courage to do precisely this; as if time doing what time does hasn’t been the bane of his existence. Because with each passing day, he knew he was that much closer to going from ‘it’s been so long’ to ‘it’s been too long’. He’s all too aware of just how long it’s been. 

 Regardless, he doesn’t want to give you excuses; choosing to be easily agreeable. He offers a small tilt of his head as acknowledgment. 

 “Why now?” you question him.

 Jeongguk tries to keep the sadness off of his face when he hears how you sound. 

 The tone of your voice is unsure; hurt. But the pain is elusive. Only heard when your subtle heartache peeks through the veil of composure you’re trying to hide behind.

 While he racks his mind for a worthy explanation, his eyes scan yours. Overflowing with so many different emotions and so expressive just like he remembers. 

 “I wish–” he begins, “I wish that I could tell you that I’ve been working toward this for ages and that I thought through all the steps and knew exactly what I wanted to say to you…” He gives a small self-deprecating chuckle, “But I can’t tell you that. After earlier, it’s clear that I didn’t have any idea or plan,” he offers you his bared palms. “I wish I had a good reason for ‘why now’, but I don’t.”

 Your brows furrow with affronted confusion. Jeongguk speaks up before you can.

 “That’s not to say that I haven’t been thinking about this since you left–”

 “I didn’t leave, you got rid of me–”

 The correction is hissed before you snap your mouth shut like you didn’t mean to say it. But you don’t take the words back and Jeongguk can’t control his expression this time. His face falls and he sighs as he looks down at the pattern on his pants. 

 “I’ve been thinking about this since I told you to leave,” he tries again, slowly. When you don’t comment again after a small pause, he continues, “but I wasn’t actively figuring out how to do it. I’ve come to learn that plans are essentially useless, so planning out what to say to you seemed pointless. In hindsight, it just made me look stupid,” he muses.

 “Honestly, having you on a constant loop in my mind wasn’t intentional; I didn’t want that,” Jeongguk admits. But he doesn’t even chance a glance, not keen to see your worsening scowl. “Remembering you just made me so miserable? Like, thinking about you all the time made me miss you all the time. And missing you made me so fucking sad– like the kind of sad you can feel? Like it hurt to think about you. But you never left my head, so the hurt never went away…”

 Jeongguk’s words slowly come to halt, his cheeks reddening to a bright cherry when he realizes that he’s rambling. As he’s mentally trying to dull his blush to something more faint and less conspicuous, he notes that your expression changed. You still look a bit angry, but now, there’s a pastel hue. A soft, muted sadness toning down the harshness. 

 He stumbles a little when he says, “I– Truthfully– I guess the–” Then he takes a quick, staccato breath mid-sentence to get himself together. “I guess the most truthful explanation for why I took so long is… avoidance? And guilt? Fear?” 

 When he frustratedly combs a hand through his hair, he pretends not to notice how it’s shaking. And he’s grateful that you don’t mention it when you track his movement. 

 The conversation gets stuck in a momentary limbo while Jeongguk thinks about what he said. It’s the truth. He was scared before– it’s what got him in this mess and it’s what kept him away for weeks too long. But he’s still scared. Despite getting the most intimidating part over with –actually coming to you after finally working up the nerve to– the fear of fucking up still hasn’t waned. 

 He’s still just as scared as he was. 

 Scared of saying the wrong thing. Of not being able to put what he feels into the right words. Of not being able to convey how truly fucking sorry he is for hurting you, how much he regrets it. He’s scared of hurting you again. Scared of you not forgiving him for the first time he did. 

 He is still just as scared of lying in the bed that he made.

 Jeongguk digs his fingertips into his thighs and his nails are dull, but he does it hard enough for a minute pang of discomfort to still be felt. He makes himself puff out a lame chuckle. It sounds strained and resembles a scoff more than anything, but he’s trying to lighten the mood; make the air in the room lighter and easier to breathe. 

 “I’m sorry,” he says on the tail end of the scoffing chuckle, shaking his head lightly. His voice has a light waver, shaky due to his nerves. “I– I’m just–”

 When he feels your small hand settle over the one he has working into his leg, his head whips up quickly and a reactive reflex almost has him pulling his hand away.

 But he stops himself before, and he’s so happy he does. Because when the initial shock wears off, your touch feels good. Familiar and comforting. He’s happy he catches himself because your touch feels nice and when he looks up from it, he gets to see you. 

 It’s like you stopped hiding and came out from behind that veil. Or maybe it’s an accident and you just forgot to keep it up. Either way, it doesn’t matter because he gets to see you watching him so artlessly, so openly honest. With a look that feels like a reminder. 

 A reminder that your heart has always been so soft, so sweet– that it still is. Softer than the hand you have settled gently over his and sweeter than its touch when you coax his own into being gentle, too, but with himself. A reminder that you’ve always been soft, sweet– that you still are. You look at him –softly; sweetly– like you’re reminding him that you’re still you. 

 It makes his eyes water and he has to look away. The thin, pinstripes on his slacks blur together, blending into thick lines as unshed tears muddle his vision.

 “It’s okay, you can–” he hears you tell him, starting hushedly. You sound hesitant, like you’re not sure if you want to finish. “I… want to know what you’re trying to say. So– you can take your time... I’ll wait for you.” 

 And if someone asked Jeongguk to describe the ache that fills his chest at your words– he would tell them that it hurts like he imagines the kindest, most tender, undeserved compassion would.

 “It took me so long because I was a coward, ___,” he says quietly. But the word is spat from his mouth like something foul. “I was so scared of feeling the hurt and facing the guilt that came when I thought about you; what I did to you–” Shame runs through his veins and he shakes his head at how spineless he was– unable to face the consequences of his own actions. It’s humiliating to remember. 

 He’s still talking down to his lap when he admits, “I– just avoided it altogether. I was so busy trying to keep it away that I didn’t give much thought to owning up to everything. I didn’t even know where to begin or how to go about fixing things with you.” 

 Jeongguk’s not crying yet. With that being said, his vision is still bleary and his eyes are red-rimmed from fighting the stubborn tears. He turns the hand he still has underneath yours palm-up. Covers yours with his other on top. Your tiny hand sandwiched between his big ones. He tilts his head back, blinks the wet in his eyes away.

 “I wanted to so badly, though,” he tells you, bringing himself to look at you, “To fix things with you. To just try with you. It took me way too long to understand something that should have been common sense: That things don’t always happen the way you plan for them to; That pieces don’t just fall into place just because you want them to. If I want something… It takes effort to make it happen. I have to work for it and try my best to put the pieces where they belong.”

 Jeongguk gives you a small smile and your hand a little squeeze. “I needed someone’s help to figure some things out,” he rolls his eyes playfully, almost fondly exasperated by the memory. “Like how to start altering the way I think and how to stop with all the wallowing and self-commiseration. How to stomach self-reflection. But when it finally clicked and I really got it? Fixing things with you was the only thing I wanted to do.” 

 There’s a tiny flicker of something coming back. A sanguine glimmer replaces the chagrin in Jeongguk’s eyes and you try to mirror it, reflect it back to him. Because the things he’s saying all sound so good. Perfect and promising and like everything you could have hoped for. 

 But when he says the thing about needing someone’s help? Anything he said before gets repressed. Unclear and hard to recall, as if his words are stuck inside a wayward memory. Anything he says after is indistinct. Muffled and hard to hear, as if there’s water stuck inside your ears. Similar to the rot that’s stuck inside your heart; ugly and hard to get rid of. 

 Such a gross, sickly feeling suddenly comes over you. 

 It takes so much effort to swallow it down. The green-washed insecurity that’s wanting to crawl up your throat and out your mouth. Masquerading as untrusting accusations that will make you seem paranoid. Heartsick questions that will leave you too vulnerable. 

 Who was it? Was it her? Was Dasom the one who helped you?

 Of course, she’s going to be a sore spot and you know that. But the thoughts fluster you and catch you a little off guard because it’s not like you to think like that. 

 It’s never been like you to be paranoid. To feel so self-conscious and easily threatened. You’ve never been the type to chastise. To interrogate, or pry. To accuse, or assume. 

 The doubt came from out of nowhere– crept its way into your head during a brief lapse of emotional awareness and into your heart when it erringly opened and was left unguarded. At first, quieting the intrusive thoughts and dispelling the negative feelings was a challenge. But in the end, you managed and it was fleeting and passed quickly.  

 Shaking the residual embarrassment that follows the bad thoughts and emotions, is much more difficult. 

 Unlike the momentary doubt, the sudden flash of insecurity that it comes with is so intense that it lingers, so strong that it fogs your head. It distractingly hangs out in the back of your mind making it hard to focus.

 It takes a few moments longer before you’re able to suppress it and push it down, down, down. Down far enough that you’ll be able to forget about it. At least for a short while, you’ll be able to convince yourself that the feelings won’t come back because it’s just not like you. 

 Wanting to omit it altogether, you gather your composure and fully give Jeongguk your attention again. You give him a small but genuine smile and wiggle your fingers that are still between his hands. 

 He smiles back softly, while you sit quietly. You’re working to piece together the things he said while you were lost in your head, trying to come up with a decent response. 

 “I was scared too,” you reveal quietly, “The whole time I was scared.” 

 “Will you tell me what you were scared of?”

 “There were so many things, Gguk.” You don’t tell him that there still are. Jeongguk nods attentively. You gingerly untangle your hand from his, catching his eyes before looking around your room. 

 “The finger thing was a really bad example,” you begin trying to explain. You shake your head with a sheepish smile, embarrassed and horrified at your past self. “and it wasn’t the actual act. It was more of what it meant that was scary for me? Like the fact that I let you do something that I always swore I would never let anyone do? Ever.”

 Laughing lightly, you think back on all of the times that your friends would make jokes. How they always told you that there would be a time that you would be horny enough to let it happen. The times when they had more class and said it was fine if you never wanted to and never did, but that they still thought you would end up giving in one day. For the right person, you would. 

 But you always remained adamant– so sure that nobody would ever make the act appealing enough, that nobody would ever make you feel comfortable enough with them for you to allow them to touch you like that or see you like that. 

 “But then I met you.”

 Jeongguk’s brows furrow slightly, like he doesn’t quite understand. But he just stays quiet and nods again, waiting for you to continue. And honestly, you can’t blame him. Anal should never be such a serious topic or something that feels like such a pivotal point in a relationship. You certainly wish that it wasn’t. 

 But alas.

 “All it took was a couple of months… Just a few soft touches and some dreamy words and I was putty in your hands.” Your hands that are folded lightly in your lap open up to show your palms before they squeeze shut into tight fists. “I feel like I would’ve done anything for you; anything you asked me to.”

 His features fall, and the expression he wears is laced with so much guilt. “Wait– Did I… make you feel like you had to do certain things?”

 You can’t help but smile at his concern as you shake your head sadly. “No, no… nothing like that– I always wanted to.”

 Jeongguk frowns, not certain of how truthful you’re being.

 Promising him that you’re not lying, you elaborate. “That’s part of why it was scary for me, I think. There was just something about you that made me so…I don’t know, willing? So yours?”

 The admission makes pesky pinpricks of tears sting the backs of your eyes. “And I was. I was so yours the whole time even though you weren’t mine–”

 “I was–” Jeongguk chimes softly. Interrupting, if only for the sake of trying to convince you.

 “Not really,” you argue. The tone you use comes across as somewhat detached. Like you’re just stating a fact. 

 Using the silence that nestles between you as an opportunity to think, you consider what you’re wanting to tell him. How vulnerable you’re willing to get. Your mouth opens before you feel like you’ve even made your decision.

 “I knew you liked me,” you acknowledge because you don’t want to be unfair, “but part of me always wondered: ‘how much does he?’ and ‘for how long will he?’. I was already scared that I was just a phase for you. Before Dasom ever said it.”

 Jeongguk tenses just a touch at the mention of his ex and you pretend not to notice, continuing with, “So when she said that I was just something you needed to get out of your system and you didn’t defend me? God, Jeongguk,” you get out, eyes squeezing shut. Wincing at the ghost of pain the memory brings back. “That hurt so much.”

 Despite your wanting to look him in the eye and come off strong while you relay how his actions made you feel; it’s impossible. Despite wanting to seem as though you’ve healed and grown and matured and like it just doesn’t hurt so bad anymore; you can’t face him.

 “And then everything happened so quickly?” you continue before he can get a word in, your words coming out rushed and frantic, “It felt like you didn’t even think about it, and like it was just so easy for you to let me go? Like I really was nothing just like she said–”

 He can’t stop himself from reaching out and quieting you when he hears the way your voice breaks. Jeongguk doesn’t want you to cry, not sure he could handle it if you did. Your hands are in your lap still, clenched together, so he rests a palm on your knee. 

 “___,” he says gently, “I need you to believe me when I tell you that none of that is true.”

 You keep talking like you don’t hear him.

 “It almost seemed like you were already over it, bored of me. And her saying those things was a convenient way to– ” you shake your head before sighing. “I was always scared that you’d end up getting tired of me, that you would stop wanting me and just get rid of me. And after what she said, it felt like you finally did. Like you used her words as an excuse so you could finally leave me.”

 “That’s not true, baby,” he reiterates, tongue slipping as he tries to console you again

 At the pet name you look up. Your red-rimmed eyes locking with his. 

 He stutters a bit as he backtracks, barely able to get out a stiff apology. 

 And your lips pull down in a deep frown, and your brows turn up confusedly. “You said you wanted to… fix things with me?”

 Jeongguk’s lips part, dim surprise taking over his face before he breathes a small yes.

 “I want that too,” you breathe back, “but I’m still so afraid Jeongguk.”

 “I know, I know you are– I am too–”

 “Not like me,” you counter, “You may be scared, but you’re not scared like me. You can’t be scared like me.” 

 Your words come out sharper than intended, too emotional for the facade you’re trying to portray. But you don’t dwell on the tone of your voice. Nor do you dwell on the brief ire that flickers in Jeongguk’s eyes. 

 “I’m scared that I’ll never catch up to you. You won’t ever know what that feels like because you’ll never be the one that’s worried about falling behind– you’re the one that’s ahead of the curve. I’m scared that I’m not good enough for you and Nari– that I can’t be. You have no reason to be scared of that.” 

 The fight to keep your voice level and in control dwindles. Every ounce of your pain can be heard as you let out the burdensome ache in your heart, little by little. 

 Each word is heavier than the last when you ask Jeongguk, “Why would you be afraid of not being good enough for someone who never made you question it?” 

 Jeongguk flinches. Visibly recoils as if your words are abrasive enough to hurt. 

 Which is what you wanted. You wanted to hurt him, but it doesn’t make you feel better like you anticipated. If anything his reaction makes your pain ricochet right back at you. Hurting him, hurting you.

 And then you consider that perhaps, you didn’t truly want him to hurt– that you might have just wanted him to be aware. To know what you’re scared of; how it hurts to be scared.  

 “Maybe you are scared, too,” you amend, “Maybe there are even a few things that we’re both afraid of… but being scared isn’t something we have in common.”

 The hurt from before is replaced by barely-hidden defensiveness. Jeongguk does try to hide it as he listens to you, though. You give him credit for that.

 “Being scared that you’ll realize that I actually am just some stupid kid that doesn’t know what she wants, exactly like you thought, is a very specific fear,” you try to explain. “I’m scared that one day you’ll look at me but you won’t see me anymore– you’ll see a mistake that could have been avoided if you never came back. That I’ll cross your mind. But instead of thinking fondly… you’ll end up thinking about how you wish you had just stuck by your decision when you said you wouldn’t let me stay.”

 A defensive urge to argue the validity of his feelings comes naturally– he’s only human. His emotional side finds it unfair of you to determine, decide, and define his fears but the irony of the situation dawns on his logical side just as quickly. 

 The fact that you’re speaking to him in a manner that mirrors how he spoke to you all those months ago, doesn’t escape him. Instead, the similarities make him stop and think. Something he regrets not doing that night in his living room. 

 He concludes that arguing with you would be pointless. He knows you’re right and it doesn’t take him long to realize. 

 Yeah, Jeongguk’s scared. But just like you said– he’s not scared like you. Not scared of what you’re scared of. Jeongguk’s fears are more or less internal and he’s had a few of them for most of his adult life, since he became a father. Some of the fears may concern you in some way or another, but none of them manifested because of you or something you did or things you said. 

 He’s scared, but he’ll never be scared like you. Not when the things you’re afraid of only exist because of him. 

 The thought of it never going away, of you never being the same or free of the ache he caused, even after the insecurities and fears are dug up by the root– it makes Jeongguk feel like he’s going to be sick. 

 “I know you didn’t mean to hurt me,” you end up saying after a few moments of watching Jeongguk struggle to get words out. “And I know you regret it. You showing up here proves that.”

 The small, sad smile you give him is too kind for what he did.

 “I thought I was doing the right thing,” Jeongguk says, “For you, for Nari. I never thought– I’m so sorry, ___.”

 “I know,” you reassure, gently. 

 And you truly do know how sorry Jeongguk is. He obviously doesn’t have the words to express his remorse, but sincerity is written all over his face. His big doe-eyes dark and glassy and so genuine. Full of regret; the longing to go back and undo what can’t be undone. Somehow so full of warmth, just like you remember. 

 “I don’t want to fight anymore,” you say. 

 It doesn’t sound like you’re at your wit’s end or like you feel as if the conversation has reached it’s breaking point. Just sounds like what it means. Like you don’t want to fight. Not with him. Not with yourself. Not with what you’ve been wishing for since you lost it. 

 Jeongguk agrees, nodding. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to make it a fight. I want you to be able to talk to me about–” He’s flighty, moving his hands all about, like he’s nervous and has too many things he wants to say. “about everything, really. So, I promise, I’ll just listen–”

 You watch him for a few more seconds, letting the corners of your lips turn up just so. Then you reach for his hands, ceasing their movement with your own. 

 “Shush,” you laugh faintly, “There’s still a lot we have to talk about. So much– we can’t get through it all with one conversation. It’s gonna take a lot of them and a long time, probably. But I think we’ve covered the most important stuff, right?”

 You’re aware it’s going to take time to get through the maze of problems you and Jeongguk have created between each other.

 But you can’t help but think about all time that you wasted while making them. 

 And you don’t want to waste even more time by waiting till everything is figured out before you start letting yourself get past it. You don’t want to hinder the process of moving forward by getting lost trying to navigate the maze. Not when you’ve finally made your way back to each other. 

 So while the labyrinth hasn’t been solved, and all your issues haven’t been fixed, at least now, you don’t have to do it alone. You can resolve everything and find a way out together. 

 It’s possible that you’re too willing to push things aside, that you’re too keen to move past it all. That you’re not standing your ground, being too easy and too soft, too quick. That you’re not giving yourself enough time to consider what you haven’t touched on yet. To process what you have. 

 But as you told Jeongguk, you feel like what needed to be addressed has been. With time, everything else will be talked about. Which is enough for you and your eager heart. You don’t want to wait anymore, not when you’ve been waiting so long already.

 Jeongguk’s wearing a flush when you grin at him and he looks down at the pair of your hands, still slightly entangled on your duvet. His thumb rubs softly over your knuckles while he says, “If you’re sure?”

 Vaguely aware of Jeongguk absently toying with your fingers while he awaits your reply, you think it over just for the sake of it and end up remembering something.

 You hum musingly, making sure he can hear the smile you decorate it with. An attempt to diffuse the heavy air in your room till it’s something more buoyant; lighthearted and easier to breathe. You curl your manicured finger around one of his, trapping it briefly before untangling both your hands.

 “Actually,” you start. 

 So very attentive, Jeongguk whips his head up. 

 “Now that I think about it, you told me why it took you so long,” you reflect, “But you didn’t tell me why now.”

 Jeongguk opens his mouth to reply before he’s furrowing his brows, puzzled, pursing his lips into a line. It’s quiet while he thinks.

 A weak, hopeless simper sounds, and he shakes his head while running a hand through his hair. “Again, I wish I had a better answer for you.”

 You roll your eyes and change positions, now sitting criss-cross in front of him. “Okay, well, you didn’t just randomly show up! There had to have been something that made you come now; today.”

 Light, but genuine laughter rings in your room– it starts off sounding like it’s accidental, cut-off chuckles only heard because the person laughing can’t hold it in, and it ends as cute giggles that lilt throughout the space softly. 

 And it’s all Jeongguk’s fault. 

 “No,” he says, around a breathy giggle, “I really did. I probably shouldn’t admit that, but I couldn’t stop thinking about you, and I ended up caving and looking at your–” 

 It’s now your fault that sounds of amusement continue to filter in the air– Jeongguk’s eyes getting wide and his face turning pink is too funny and you can’t not laugh at him.

 He stutters when he tries to backtrack, “Y… Your– pictures? On my phone? In my camera roll?” 

 You narrow your eyes suspiciously, impishly. “Which of my pictures, hmm?”

 The flush coloring his cheeks runs down to his chest, the silver LV pendant of his necklace would probably be warm if you reached out and touched it. He would probably be warm too if you reached out and touched him.

 “No! Oh my god, not those! I did not look at those, okay? Anyway,” he rushes out, “I really was on my way to work! But add a couple of turns and a few steps–” he shrugs, “I guess now because I physically couldn’t keep myself from you any longer? Because then I was at your door and now I’m here. With you.”

 The giggles have finally ceased, and now it’s just your paired breathing that acts as low background noise while you both take the other in.

 “Now you’re here with me,” you repeat softly, with an even softer smile.

 Jeongguk’s eyes drop to your lips for the briefest of moments. He darts his tongue out to wet his own.

 “___. You were right,” he tells you, “It didn’t have to be all or nothing like I thought it did.”

 You nod once.

 “I’m sorry for not listening to you. For deciding for you and not letting you make your own choices. And for not even letting you explain your side that night. For how bad I hurt you and for all the things the hurt caused.”

 “Okay,” you breathe.

 “I should have listened to you.”

 Again, you nod.

 “I should have chosen you.”

 It’s almost instantaneous when tears well in your eyes.

 “But I was so scared of the way I wanted you and how badly I wanted it,” Jeongguk confesses, “I’ve never felt the way I feel about you before. For anybody.”

 Mild confusion makes a home in your eyes.

 He expects it before he sees it stir your features, so he’s not surprised when it appears. He finds himself smiling. Maybe because he’s wanted to tell you that since he realized it. Or maybe he wants to finally do what he should have done the night of the fight, and even before then. 

 Jeongguk smiles at your uncertainty because this time, he gets to make it go away. He gets to reassure you of your place in his life, of how important you are to him. Of how you’re worth trying for. He’s quick to shush you when your lips part to speak. 

 “No one,” he insists, “You’re so different, ___. And I feel so differently for you. I feel different when I’m with you. That’s part of why I was afraid. I was scared to want you because I didn’t know how to have you.”

 Tears are making his eyes gleam, glassy in the morning light that streams through your blinds. Yours are a mirror and you don’t know how you’ve kept the drops from spilling over.

 “I’m still fucking scared,” he admits, “Like you said, we’re both still scared. Because we have no god damn clue how this will turn out. If we’ll even be able to fix it and get back to the way we were. Who might be collateral damage if we can’t. If one of us will end up changing our mind. Or if we’ll end up even better; if we –me and you, together– will be the only thing that we’re sure about.”

 The urge to tell him that you’ve been sure ever since you found his round little bug of a baby in your grocery store is so strong– you think you may burst because of it. Maybe the lovestruck feeling in your chest has gone supernova. 

 “I have no clue about anything other than the fact that I want to be with you, ___.”  

 Let the record show that between you and him, Jeongguk is the one to let the first tear fall during this conversation.

 “I want to try.” 

 “Yeah–”

 “If you’ll let me, I want to try for you. And if you’ll have me, I want to try with you. Because if we don’t at least try– I think I’ll wish that we did forever.”

 When you beam at him and exhale a simple, ‘Okay’ and Jeongguk echoes it, he thinks this is all too easy.

 But then he remembers how everything with you has always been that way. Maybe not too easy, but just right. Concerning you, the hardest thing he’s had to do is be without. 

 He brings your hand to his lips, brushing your knuckles with a sweet, kiss. “I want to be with you,” he tells you again.

 You bite your lip to suppress your smile. “Then be with me.”

 This time he’s the one saying ‘Okay’ and you’re the one echoing.

 Until backtrack with a pout. “What… what am I? Like– to you.”

 “What do you want to be?”

 “Yours.” 

 Your answer is breathed so quickly, like you didn’t even have to think about it to know that’s what you wanted. Like that’s the only thing you’ve ever wanted. How fast you reply gives Jeongguk butterflies. Makes him giddy while he tries to calm himself as he confirms, “Mine,” before he adds quietly, a little shy, “I’ll introduce you as… my girlfriend?”

 Jeongguk is so endeared when you close your eyes, wistful when you ask him to say it again in an airy voice. 

 “My girlfriend,” he whispers, squeezing your hand in his.

 When you open your eyes to look at him and he sees unshed tears heavy on your lashline, his heart pulls in his chest and it breaks a little when you murmur, “I didn’t know if I would ever hear you say that.” 

 “I’m sorry it took me so long.”

 A teardrop escapes the corner of your eye when you shake your head, smiling so sweetly, so happily. Jeongguk’s distracted, just taking it in and getting lost in everything that is you. So much so, that he doesn’t see it coming. Not until your arms are wrapped around his neck, his reflexively coming up to wrap around your waist like muscle memory. 

 Jeongguk takes a deep breath when he has you in his arms, nuzzles his nose into your hair. Pulls you impossibly closer, and he can feel how he squeezes the air out of you when you puff out a dulcet laugh into the crook of his neck. 

 When you bring your hand to the back of his head, the feel of your nails on his scalp and your fingers in his hair is enough to make him sigh, sink into the touch. It’s familiar. Feels like a natural progression, just like the way your cheeks brush when you pull away just slightly, only to come back. Closer this time. 

 His nose bumps yours, and he inhales your shaky sigh. 

 “I…”

 “Yeah?” Jeongguk breathes. 

 The shift is swift. The temperament of the atmosphere smoothly transforms– going from something saccharine and tenderly sentimental to something decadently rich and heavy. The air all at once becomes thick and intoxicatingly heady; plush and ardently warm. 

 The build-up is gradual. At first, the sudden heady note of warmth that makes your room hazy just feels like a blanket. Like it covers softly, tickles the skin lightly. Then it begins to seep in so slowly, gradually, that it’s not noticeable until the heat of it can be felt bone deep. Until fingers shake with the desire to touch. 

 It starts with Jeongguk nosing along your jaw; down the length of your neck when you tilt your head to the side for him. It starts with the occasional, accidental brush of his lips against your skin. It starts with your hand gripping tight in his hair, a subtle try at pulling him in to keep him near. 

 It ends with a kiss.

 Albeit, a fleeting one– but still a kiss nonetheless. 

 Pulling himself back, Jeongguk’s features are tensed. Eyes squeezed shut, teeth gritted as he struggles with himself. He’s rough when he gets a hold of you by your waist. His fingers digging in harshly; almost like he doesn’t realize how he’s handling you. But he’s gentle when pushes you away to put some space between you. 

 “Why–” you whisper, needy, as you bring your palms to cover his grip at your waist. You pet at the backs of his hands, coaxing him into letting them roam. You guide his touch down to your hips when he gives in briefly, encouraging him to touch you.  

 “I don’t know if– Maybe we shouldn’t–” 

 You crowd his space, bringing yourself to your knees and pushing his palms down to where the hem of your too-big sweatshirt grazes high on your bare thigh. Jeongguk groans after he loses his short internal battle. Can’t rob himself of squeezing at the meat of your thighs just for a second before he’s trying to pull his hands from yours.

 He doesn’t get very far because you end up cradling his face in your hands, angling his head up to look at you. And Jeongguk’s always been so easy for you. It’s no surprise how easily he yields to the movement; how easy his eyes slip shut. How easily he parts his lips when your tongue teases the seam; how easy it is to get lost in the taste of you. 

 “Shouldn’t what, Gguk?” you ask in a soft voice. Each word spoken between the kisses you’re trailing down the column of his neck.

 Jeongguk keeps his hands mostly to himself. Awkwardly letting them hover by your sides as he searches his brain, trying to recall the reason why he’s clinging to his resolve. It is so hard though, when you’re right in front of him. So willing and eager to let him have you. He finds himself following your lips when you barely let the plush center graze his cupid’s bow. 

 “Maybe we should… take it slow?” he offers, dazedly. It wasn’t supposed to sound like a question, but Jeongguk can’t help the way his voice carries up at the tail end like he’s not sure that’s really what he wants. 

 A little giggle falls from your lips, puffs hotly over his. And Jeongguk’s never thought you evil before, but right now he’s certain that you are. Because, with wistful mirth still in your voice, all you do is nod like you’re simply humoring him and say, “Yeah, maybe.”

 Then you kiss him again, sighing a delicate, ‘Touch me’ against his lips.

 You bring his awkward hands to your body, placing them on your tits, urging him to cup and squeeze over your sweatshirt. 

 Jeongguk exhales shakily, unable to keep himself from rolling them in his palms. 

 “Yeah,” you whisper, “Please.”

 His hold on your chest turns rough, accidentally letting his pent-up frustration out through his touch and taking it out on you. It doesn’t hurt, not really, but you still whine. Let out a high, airy keen as your eyes slip shut and your head tilts back. 

 There’s no warning. Only Jeongguk’s hands moving to your shoulders, followed by a push and then a tumble, ending with you on your back and Jeongguk hovering over you. He’s got your wrists pinned by your head, and he looks down at you with dark eyes. The frustration in them juxtaposes the surprise in yours. 

 “You know that’s not fair, ___,” he chides. His tone is harsh, trying to sound stern, maybe angry– but there’s a slight waver in his voice that tells you he’s struggling to stay collected. 

 Fussily, you squirm under him. You tug against the hold he has on your wrists, only for him to squeeze tighter. You cant your hips in an attempt to rub up against his, only for Jeongguk to just lift them higher. A laugh of incredulity pairs the disbelief on his face when he glances between your wiggling frame and your irritated pout. 

 “I’m trying to do things right,” he explains around his bemusement, as he roughly presses your wrists deeper into the mattress. “I’m trying to be good.”

 You stare up at him with pinched brows. He looks so pretty above you. Flushed a pretty pink with his lips parted and plumped by the kisses you managed to steal. A stray, misplaced strand of hair flutters with his heavy breathing. His eyes keep flitting down to your lips, and you can physically see how much he wants you; how hard it is for him to fight it.

 When he finally lowers his body to yours, it’s almost defeatedly. Jeongguk gives in and just rests his weight on you. Presses himself against you, hot and hard between your legs. Finding his place easily when you open up and make room for him.

 He keeps that pressure on his cock while he exhales a trembling, almost relieved sigh. His nose brushes yours but when you tilt your head to connect your lips, he pulls back. He does it again, taunting you with almost-kisses until you’re craning your neck again.

 He doesn’t kiss you back when he lets your lips connect. In fact, you can feel how he purses his stubbornly. You stay determined, unswayed by his resistance. Your soft kisses inch from his mouth to pepper cute, all over his blushing skin. The scar on his cheek, the bridge of his nose. The just barely off-center freckle beneath his bottom lip. When your palm naturally settles on his neck, fingertips over his pulse point, you let out a breathy noise of wonder when you feel how fast his heart is racing. 

 And he feels his cock kick shamefully in his pants, letting out a breathy noise of his own. You feel it too and you coo, soft and fond, as you trail your other hand down his spine until it’s flat on the small of his back, pressing encouragingly. 

 Pulling his bottom lip between his teeth, Jeongguk hangs his head to get closer to you. He bites gently at the pudge of your cheek, letting his teeth drag lightly until he’s mouthed hot, all the way to your ear.  

 “Why won’t you let me be good?” he whispers. 

 He croons prettily against the shell of your ear before he nips teasingly at your earlobe. A heat curls in your belly, making you suck in a short, whiny breath. The insides of your thighs clamp tight around his frame. 

 “Be good to me,” you gasp, arching up into him.

 Jeongguk moans quietly and buries his face in your neck when he can’t stop his hips from stuttering into a clumsy rhythm. Sloppily rutting his cock over your panties, uncoordinated and eager.

 Maybe he’s overly sensitive, hyperaware of your body underneath him, but when you begin to roll your hips, meeting his and matching his pace– he can feel how the little bit of added pressure has you opening up for him. Just enough for his hard-on to slide between, barely pillowed by your panty-covered pussylips. Even through the clothing, he can feel the difference. Like he knows you can. 

 He hears the unexpected moan you let out when you feel his cock rut over your clit and he feels the way your nails dig into his back at the sudden enhanced pleasure before he shifts to rest on his forearms so he can see too. 

 And what a pretty sight you are. 

 Eyes hazy and heavy, half-lidded as you look down your body to where he’s making you feel good. Cheeks flushed a rosy pink with arousal and maybe a little bit of abashment when you glance up at him and see him already watching you. You give him a small, shy grin before letting your eyes flutter closed. Basking in how he’s making you feel, your mouth falling open in a silent moan.  

 As he takes you in, his lips part with a low groan. His own pleasure coming from pleasuring you; heightened by every noise, look, and movement you make. Jeongguk gets such a specific satisfaction and gratification from making you feel good. From being good to you.

 “Is this what you want?” Jeongguk whispers, slowing down some. He settles into a steadier pace, rutting his cock up and down on your cunt with slow, lazy drags. 

 He grins to himself because of how quick you are to nod and let him know that, yes, this is what you want. His hand comes up to smooth some of the flyaways that have sprouted from your squirming and he cups your cheek when your turn into his touch. 

 “Hmm?” he prompts, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. 

 You huff, annoyed, and he can’t help but coo, smitten. 

 “Yeah– yes I want this, but I–,” you start off strong. You hold his gaze until shyness wins and has you focusing on the necklace dangling from his neck. The LV sways some as he continues to rock his hips. “I want more, too.”

 “Yeah?” Jeongguk asks, a smile lacing his dreamy tone. He gives a quick, soft peck to your red-bitten lips in lieu of letting you answer. “I know you do,” he tells you, murmurs it with open-mouthed kisses against your throat. He pulls at the neck of your sweatshirt, draws a violet into your collarbone, using his lips as the pen. Then he tugs the thin skin between his teeth briefly, making you inhale harshly before he kisses it better. 

 “Gonna take care of you,” he promises, “take my time with you.”

 Jeongguk proceeds at his own languid speed, lingering on every new inch of skin that’s revealed as he rids you of your sweatshirt. Of your panties. 

 He allows you your own pace as well. 

 Doesn’t spur you on when you’re slow to open up his dress shirt, doesn’t goad you into nimble quickness when your fingers stumble and it takes you far longer than it should to undo all the buttons. He doesn’t hurry you when your touch drags over his skin, or when your palms falter at his shoulders, or when your fingertips lag all the way down his arms when you finally slide the button-up off. When your shaky hands bide their time, hesitating at the buckle of his belt, he doesn’t rush you. 

 Jeongguk takes his time –and lets you take yours– as if time itself doesn’t exist when it’s passing between the both of you. As if each moment that comes and each moment that goes is inconsequential because moments are meaningless and time is simply a concept when forever is right now. 

 Nothing really matters and there’s no need to rush when he’s in your hands and you’re in his arms and forever is in his heart.  

 “Not yet,” he lilts, grabbing your wrists and sliding the flat of your palms up his tummy and away from his waistline. 

 “But I–”

 “But I–” he flirts coyly. 

 Your mouth opens to argue, but the words never get a voice. His mien makes the words in your throat fall mute and causes a feeling of wistfulness to rouse in your heart.  

 Knelt on his knees between your legs, smiling down at you, playful and flirty. Happy. Wearing a pink full-body flush– Jeongguk is stunning. Distractingly so. 

 He’s glowing; gentle yet radiant. A quiet fondness reflected in his eyes as he looks at you with that well-worn adoration of his. It’s a familiar affection. One that you’ve missed, yearned for, and memorized– one that you’ve tried to unlearn and tried to forget, too, because of how much it ached to remember. 

 Nostalgia is a wonted thing that taints good memories until it hurts to remember them. It warped the memory of Jeongguk’s adoration until even just a fleeting thought about it hurt. It made you want to wipe your memory clean just to be freed from the yearning.

 But with him looking at you the way he is, with that same raw adoration, you can’t fathom how you wanted to forget how it made you feel. How it still makes you feel. Because how good does it feel to be adored? How good does it feel to be wanted? How good does it feel to be finally his? 

 You dig your nails into his skin at the thought, and his tummy tenses. His grip on your wrists tightens and he lets out a soft hiss, the sound buoyed by a light, airy chuckle.

 His thumbs run over the pulse points in your wrists. “Lean against the headboard for me? Get comfy?”

 Cushioned by a few pillows, you do as he says, sinking into the down. Your knees are bent, and your arms are wrapped over your middle, now hyper-aware of how exposed you are comparatively. 

 Jeongguk’s top half is just as bare as you, only his necklace still on. But even though his lower body is covered, his bottoms are unforgiving. Dark slacks belted at his hips, the slight dip by his hipbones accentuated and his v-lines disappearing into the waistband where his cock is tucked away. Too hard and heavy to disguise, clothes doing almost nothing.  

 Not that he’s trying to hide it much at all. He’s palming himself casually, his touch light and his eyes dark. Tracking your movements while he waits for you to get settled. 

 When you are, Jeongguk makes his way to you, his hands resting on your knees as he lets his gaze roam. From your eyes to your lips, to your pillowy tits, to your closed legs. You feel a light pressure, almost tentative like he’s asking for permission with his touch.

 He’s on his best behavior though, so he asks you as well. And when you hear how his voice comes out a little deeper, with an almost imperceptible tremble, as he gently asks, “Can I?”,  your lashes flutter and your thighs reflexively press together, before you let him guide them open. 

 Time isn’t real, but any time in your bed shouldn’t go to waste. So he swiftly resituates himself, resting between your spread legs with his lips naturally finding their place on your neck, his hands on your skin. 

 Jeongguk’s quick, but attentive, as he relocates his mouth. The spit from his kiss marks leave a faint, wet trail from where they start at your neck down to the swell of your tits. He sighs when he gets a hold of them, jiggling a bit and squeezing. He glances at you through his lashes, as he plays your nipples, teasing them till they’re hardened by his touch. He smiles to himself when he sees you bring your bottom lip between your teeth to keep quiet.

 When he uses his lips to tease, he hears you sigh an airy, pleased sound. He’s smug as he swirls his tongue, flicks lightly over the stiff little peak. You take a deep breath, your chest expanding and pushing into him, before it’s released in a stuttery exhale. When you get a hold of his hair, the strands curl around your fingers, softly, like how you hold him close and cradle him to your chest. 

 He gives the paired nipple the same attention. Has you mewling prettily with each lick and suck. Whining with each bite and tug. 

 As he follows the length of your body, he does so with small, suctioning bites. A little nip just below your sternum, a little nip under your ribs. One at the softest part of your lower belly, right next to the pink heart of your belly ring. He gives the jewel a tiny, baby kiss.

 “This is the same one that you had in the first time we…” he stammers, too aware of the blush that simmers just under his skin at the thought. “We… you know… right?”

 Jeongguk’s laying on his front, his head resting against your inner thigh. His arms wrapped around your legs, resting on your belly. The tattooed fingers of his right hand absently toy with the dangly part of the jewelry. 

 Something warms you from the inside, pleasantly surprised by the mushy, lovesick feeling that washes over you. Your heart beats, rapid in your chest, and you wonder if Jeongguk can feel the whirlwind of butterflies in your tummy under his palms. 

 You nod, blushingly and shy. “Yeah, it’s… yeah.”

 “Just as cute as I remember,” he nods back. The puffs under Jeongguk’s eyes form when he smiles and adds, “This one is my favorite… Gonna make you feel good now, okay?”

 He says it so casually, that you want to laugh a little, but the anticipation it sparks makes you tense. Your pussy clenches on nothing, and you can feel that tell-tale heartbeat pulse between your legs. 

 “Okay… yeah…” you whisper dumbly, trying to hide how eager you are. You slowly open your legs a little wider so you can see him better, so he can touch you better. 

 Jeongguk switches from having one of his hands wrapped around your thigh to it resting palm down on your mons. He uses his thumb to lightly run along your plump folds, up and down. His eyes are fixed on your pussy, and his tongue peeks out to wet his lips a little before he nibbles on the inside of his lip, a soft smile making the corners curl. 

 “Just as cute as I remember,” he says again, his tone playful and a little wistful this time. He kisses just above your slit.

 Past lovers had said your cunt was pretty or maybe perfect when they found themselves between your legs, but Jeongguk has always called your pussy cute. It’s just a thing he does. And you don’t know why, but it never fails to make you blush, a little giddy and shy– something just so simple and sweet about his word of choice. 

 Even now, it has you wiggling and trying to inch your legs closed as you bring your hands up to hide your face. It’s whiny, but you both know you don’t really mean it when you say, “Stooooop” the word dragged out and laced with pleased flattery.

 You can feel Jeongguk’s warm laughter puff over your cunt as he urges you to keep your legs spread. He hums as the giggles subside and says, “Don’t be shy now, I’m just getting started.”

 A wistful sigh sounds, and it’s soft and cute and taunting when you say, “Okay well, hurry up.”

 You shift slightly here and there to get more comfortable, running a hand through your hair as you resist the urge to smile back at Jeongguk when he gives you a look. When you bring your arm down from your hair, Jeongguk snags it, guiding your hand to your cunt. But when you start to play yourself he stops you, tuttingly.

 “Don’t touch, just– open up for me,” he instructs, “Show me.”

 Jeongguk groans under his breath when you do as he says. When he stroked over your pussy lips just a moment ago, they were plush and smooth, soft to the touch with your arousal tucked neatly between your folds. But with them spread, he can see how you’re glossy with slick; so dewy when he’s barely even touched you. 

 “You’re already so wet. How long have you been like this, hmm?” he wonders aloud, gathering a small bit of the sticky clear at your opening with his finger before just barely pushing it inside. Kind of like he’s trying to put the little droplet back where it came from; not let it go to waste. Then he brings his touch to your clit and your pussy slick aids the up and down swipes of his thumb. 

 “Ah– fuck,” you faintly gasp. 

 Jeongguk’s cock pulses as you bring your other hand down, using both to spread yourself open more and pull back the hood of your clit. Making sure his touch is direct and the sensation feels as good as possible. The thought of you already being so greedy for pleasure is enough for him to leak, precum surely leaving a wet patch in his briefs. 

 Even though he’s being gentle, when he rubs over your exposed clit, you shy away from his touch despite being so fiendish for it. Jeongguk babies you with a coo because he knows that you’re probably so sensitive. You gave yourself almost no time to warm up, afterall. 

 “Too much?” he asks you.

 With a shake of your head, you say, “No, no… just– slowly, please.”

 Your words make him smile and he gives your inner thigh a honeyed kiss for being so good. The smile lingers because slow is the pace he always intended to use, at your request or not. It’s how he intends to finish you too. For the first time, at least. 

 Jeongguk keeps that slow speed until your body relaxes and another few drops of clear slick drip for your cunt. The thumb of his other hand rubs softly over your taint as he collects what you leak and tucks it back inside. Your pussy clenches and your hole puckers at the sensation every time, and it makes him fucking throb. 

 The thumb on your clit only speeds up enough for it to not be torturous or agonizingly slow, the pace satisfying but remaining lax and unhurried, like he has all the time in the world. Once he finds a good rhythm, he keeps the motions constant and consistent.

 When you start to get antsy and fidget, he smiles to himself knowingly. 

 “Feels good, baby?” he asks you, and when you nod, he whispers, “Yeah? Look so pretty…”

 And you didn’t lie. It does feel good. But he doesn’t go any faster. He doesn’t push the fingers at your opening in any farther. And after a handful of seconds that feel like minutes that feel like hours– there still isn’t any indication that he plans to.  

 When you roll your hips, trying to hint at what you want, Jeongguk stops you with a scolded tsk, telling you to stay still. The sound you let out is frustrated and petulant.

 There’s a taunting note in Jeongguk’s voice when he says, “I thought you said it feels good?”

 “It does,” you tell him, “But– faster?”

 Jeongguk’s expression is entertained, chuffed even. “I told you I was gonna take my time with you. Need you to be patient for me, baby–”

 “Please–”

 “Hush, ___.” 

 There’s still lingering amusement in his tone, but there’s also a sharpness, a hint of disapproval and something stern that wasn’t there before. It’s enough of a warning to silence the begging on the tip of your tongue. 

 “I’ll get you there, baby,” he says, his voice sweet again. “It’ll feel so good, I promise.”

 It’s quiet for a moment. Then–

 “I changed my mind, it doesn’t feel good.”

 Jeongguk doesn’t even look up from your pussy when he asks a preoccupied, “No?” Then he peeks at you, and when you give a pouty nod he hums. It’s smiling and mirthful when he dismisses you. “Well, don’t worry. It will soon.”

 Jeongguk is content between your thighs, still playing with your clit slowly. He only checks on you when your squirming mostly stops and you become suspiciously mute. 

 He snorts when he sees you scowling at him. “Don’t look at me like that.” After a few seconds with no response, he continues with, “Oh, so you’re going to be difficult now?”

 You shrug, snooty. 

 Laughing, he asks, “You’re really gonna act like it doesn’t feel good?” The corners of his lips curl softly and his eyes narrow like he’s scrutinizing you. His head tilts a little when he continues with, “Like you’re not leaking, right now? Like you wouldn’t be making a mess on your sheets if I wasn’t helping you?”

 Jeongguk watches your cheeks steadily turn a deep pink at his words until you look away from him, turning your nose in the air. You probably would have covered your face with your hands to avoid his gaze had they not been occupied.

 He chuckles again when he’s only met more silence. Just the slightest squirm when he tucks another leaked droplet back into your cunt. To make a point.

 “That’s okay, you can be mad at me as long as you’re patient, too,” he says, tone grossly fond and a perfect example of the patience he wants from you. “Still gonna make you cum. Still gonna be good to you and give you what you want.”

 And it seems what people say about patience being a virtue and all that, is true. Because just like Jeongguk said, with just a bit more time and some decorum, it does start to feel even better.   

 Like the way he’s been touching you, the come-up is slow and steady. The hot waves of pleasure that ebb in your lower belly. The rise and fall of your chest that gradually gets faster. The noises that get harder and harder to keep in. 

 Jeongguk doesn’t need to hear you, though, to know he’s getting you there. But he’s enjoying this brattier side of you –he remembers you being difficult every now and then, but overall you were always so good for him; never fought him too hard on things– so he humors you by asking, “Starting to feel nice, baby?”

 Everso tart, you shrug again, looking off to the side. 

 Still, Jeongguk doesn’t need to see your face to know he’s getting you there. Your pussy is a whistleblower, telling him everything he needs to know. Your cunt– leaking non-stop, contracting constantly. Your tiny clit– now puffy and swollen from all his attention. 

 Your fingers holding your pussy lips apart for him have a mild tremor. Your brows are arched when you finally give him your attention again, watching his thumb swipe up and down, over and over again. Your legs are beginning to tremble beside him. Your head is lulling back, and your lungs are exhaling a lewd sigh. 

 “I– I’m close,” you whisper, breathlessly.

 Jeongguk purrs, is just about to tease you and your stubbornness with something along the line of ‘Really? Thought it didn’t feel good, ___’. But he doesn’t get the chance because of how close the string in you is to snapping. How it’s pulled so taut that it has you near tears, that slow and steady come-up finally peaking.

 “Oh my god, Gguk– my– my pussy’s gonna cum,” you cry quietly, legs shaking as you struggle to keep them open.

 “Mhm, I told you, baby,” he hums, smug, “Let me see how good it feels.”

 Your face is turned into your shoulder, but you nod for him. Focusing on the ruining, slow, consistent rubbing of his thumb. The pleasure is so mind-numbingly good that, as much as you want to cum, you try to make it last as long as possible. 

 Which isn’t much longer at all, only a few more vertical swipes over your clit is all you can handle before you’re mewing a soft warning and cumming so hard your body convulses.

 “That’s my girl. So pretty, baby. Did so good; always such a good girl for me,” Jeongguk praises, full of lust-filled awe as he watches you finish. He feels your clit pulsing under his thumb and he sees your cunt squeezing repeatedly around nothing and now he that he’s not preventing it, he sees how your pussy cums– leaking everything that he tucked away and dripping down to your sheets. Making a mess like he knew it would.

 He continues to rub your clit until your body twitches, curling in on yourself as you close your legs and bring them to your chest. Wrapping your arms around the backs of your knees and pulling your legs to your chest, you curl into yourself for protection as Jeongguk moves to shed himself of the rest of his clothes. Then he sits on his heels while he watches you, amused. 

 Even though you’ve made a great attempt at hiding your pussy away, with the way you’re positioned it still peeks out from between your thighs. Puffy and shiny. 

 You’re on your back with your eyes closed, still catching your breath. The feel of Jeongguk’s hands on you makes you jump, and when his touch moves form the backs of your thighs closer to your sensitive cunt, you whine, kicking at his arms weakly.

 “Shh,” he murmurs, “I won’t touch, I just want to look.”

 Somewhat soothed by his words, you begin to shift to a more relaxed position but Jeongguk pushes your legs back together and your knees back to your chest. 

 You gripe at being manhandled. “What if I want to see, too?” 

 “You don’t need to see if I tell you what I see,” Jeongguk reasons.

 “It’s mine,” you argue.

 “Ours,” he corrects.

 After telling Jeongguk that he’s dumb and asking him to please shut up, both of you dissolve into a fit of laughter. When you kick again, trying to get his shoulder as punishment, he gets a grip on your leg before you can land the hit and he kisses your ankle. You sigh.

 It’s quiet, and you’re content letting Jeongguk pet at you, listening as he tells you about what he sees. He says cute a few times. Wet, messy. His fingers brush over your folds, even plumper than before, and you can feel the sticky wetness that stays behind when he moves his touch to somewhere else.

 When he uses his thumbs to part your pussy lips, you hear him whine. The breathy noise makes you grin, and you hum lightly. 

 “Still cute?” you ask aloud. Eyes on the ceiling, smile still on your lips.

 Jeongguk knows he said he wouldn’t touch, but he doesn’t think you’re too sensitive anymore. He still bypasses your clit just in case when he slowly runs his fingertip to your opening. When he presses into the second knuckle, you moan sweetly and the sound mixes with the audible wetness. There’s a crystalline string still attached to his finger when he pulls away. 

 “Mhmm,” Jeongguk hums, answering your question. “But so messy.”

 You bite your lip when Jeongguk slips his finger in again, a little father this time. 

 “Clean me up, then,” you whisper, airy and wispy. 

 Jeongguk hums and when you look to the sound, you can see him peeking at you over your bent knees that are still pulled to your chest. He scrunches his nose at you cutely, and you mirror the curve of his lips.

 “I guess I should, since I’m the one who made you make such a mess,” he hums, like he’s mulling it over. But the fact that he does so while lowering his face to your cunt shows that he’s already made his decision. 

 In this position, you can’t see him and it makes you tense in anticipation while you wait.

 Jeongguk knows it’s a little mean to keep you waiting, but he can see you so perfectly like this. Can see how you’re trying control your arousal and calm yourself down with deep breaths. He can see how it’s not working.

 “You’re shaking,” he observes dreamily. 

 Your pussy leaks and he watches that glossy slick drip down. He uses his pointer finger to play with the droplet at your hole, swirling the dewiness around the cinched muscle.

 The sigh you let out is stuttered, and your hole clenches under his touch before you force yourself to relax again. You swallow your embarrassment before you admit, “I want it really bad, Gguk.”

 You sound like you’re close to crying and Jeongguk soothes you with wet kisses on your thighs. 

 “All you have to do is ask, baby,” Jeongguk tells you gently. His kisses move till they’re right next to your pussy, his tongue poking out to lick just outside your folds. His thumbs pull you open and he blows lightly.

 “Oh my god,” you whimper. 

 Jeongguk’s voice is full of flirty, mirth when he asks, “What do you say? Hmm?”

 The heartbeat in your cunt is the only thing you can focus on. The pulsing is so loud and strong that it drowns everything else out. You don’t even really hear it when you sigh a hazy, “Please, sir.” 

 Predictably, your words go straight to his cock. But weirdly enough, he also feels them in his heart? He can’t explain it but somehow the lust thrumming through him melts into something fond? A lovesick impulse has him opening your legs so he can slot himself in between.

 He doesn’t lay on you but holds himself above on a braced arm. His free hand comes up to cup your cheek as he looks at you. The corners of your eyes are damp, confirming the tears he thought he had heard in your voice earlier. Your lips are redder and a bit swelled, probably from you pulling them between your teeth.  

 Jeongguk kisses the corner of one eye, then the other, and then your lips. His thumb glides over your cheekbone. He sounds gentle when he says, “No ‘sir’ today, okay? Just Gguk.”

 You nod in his hold. 

 “Good girl,” he smiles, soft and sweet. “I’ll clean you up now, won’t tease you anymore.”

 You breathe a relieved sigh as Jeongguk kisses all the way down your tummy and you think about how good it’s going to feel, after all this time, to have his mouth all over your cunt. To feel his tongue licking into you, deep and slow. To feel his lips wrapping around your clit with light sucks. 

 The closer Jeongguk gets to your pussy, the harder it is to keep still. He smiles as you squirm and you can feel it in the juncture of your inner thigh where his mouth has strayed. It’s not too long before he gets back on track, kissing his way to your pussy till his lips are tucked between your plush folds and the tip of his tongue is circling your clit. 

 Your mouth drops open in a silent moan as you sit up, resting on your elbows to watch him. Just the sight of him is enough to make the first surge of heat curl in your belly. He’s got his eyes closed, lashes sitting pretty on the highs of his cheek as he licks at you. Cleaning you up and making a mess of you all at once. 

 “You look so pretty,” you whisper as you card a hand through his hair, pushing the stands off his forehead and out of his face.

 Without stopping his tongue, Jeongguk glances up at you, his eyes half-lidded and hazy. He moans pleased and happy into your pussy. Only pulls away for a second to whisper a cute ‘thank you’.

 His tongue is busy and so are his hands, running them up your body. When he gets to your tits, he’s harsh. Digging in and squeezing with palms that are just as greedy as his mouth. He uses the hold he has on them to pull himself closer, push his tongue deeper. The harshness of his touch makes you hiss, the hand you have in his hair tugging. 

 Jeongguk’s eyes roll back a little before he loosens grip, squeezing your tits once more, gently this time, as an apology. Then he’s smoothing his palms along your waist till one’s wrapped around your thigh and the other’s resting on your tummy.  

 He pulls away briefly to look at you, offering a sheepish grin before he pecks just above your slit. The hand he has on your belly absently fiddles with your bellyring.

 “Sorry,” he says, “I just– I don’t know, I didn’t notice how rough I was being.”

 You hum while you rest your feet on his back and wiggle your toes. 

 “I think I’ve just been wanting you for so long…” He turns his head and nuzzles into your leg by his head, his hair tickling the sensitive skin. “And now that I have you, I–” His lips graze your inner thigh with every word and when he’s at the softest part, he bites gently. 

 On a sigh, you ask, “You what?”

 Resting where his teeth just were, he tilts his head, looking up at you. “It’s hard for me to control myself. I just– can’t get enough of you.” His words are said with a sigh and uttered in between roaming wet kisses. 

 After he promises he’ll be more careful with you, he begins to lick broad stripes over your cunt. When you spread your legs wider, you can feel the flat of his tongue against your clit. But it’s just slightly, just a brush of his tongue. 

 “My clit,” you moan, looking down your nose at him, “Play with my clit.”

  He hums, pulling back a little. With your legs parted so wide, your pussy lips are spread just enough for him to see the little bud. He watches you as he uses the very tip of his tongue, flicking repeatedly over the sensitive spot just under your hood.

 Your brows pinch and your legs twitch as they naturally try to inch close, the feel of Jeongguk’s tongue so good and so much that your body is already on the verge of being overwhelmed. 

 “Ah– yeah, like that, Gguk,” you sigh letting your head roll back, basking in how good he’s making you feel, “Keep licking my pussy like that.”

 Your eyes lull shut while you let him make you feel good, and it’s then that you notice his hand on your tummy is still toying with your piercing. It’s distracting only for a moment, only before you realize that every time he does something to your clit with his tongue, he does the same to the dangly part of the jewelry with his fingers.

 When Jeongguk circles your clit, he twirls the charm. When he licks up and down over your clit, the little heart gets flicked too. When he suctions his lips and sucks your clit in and out of his mouth, he tugs gently on your belly ring.

 You can’t be sure if he’s doing it on purpose. One part of you thinking the patterns match up too well for it to be unconscious, the other part thinking it could just be an absentminded coincidence. You also can’t be sure why the nuanced touches are making the pleasure in your gut curl so tight; burn so hot.

 “Gguk– you’re gonna make me cum again…” you drone, lustdrunk. 

 He smiles while his tongue continues to lick lightly. “Am I?”

 While looking down your body at him, you nod. Your body already pulling taut with the tension that always preludes your orgasms.

 Jeongguk’s lips wrap around your clit and he gives a quick sucking kiss before he pulls away with a little pop! sound. “Not yet, I’m not done cleaning you up.”

 Groaning, you throw your head back. “You said you weren’t gonna tease anymore.”

 “I did,” he confirms, his big palms finding the backs of your thighs and pushing them back, “But not so you could cum– so I could clean up your mess–”

 “Your mess–”

 “Our mess,” he amends, the tips of his fingers straying to the newly exposed parts of you. Jeongguk brushes over your hole, and you suck in a small gasp. “You’re messy here too, baby.”

 Whining softly, you squirm as Jeongguk presses light, sucking kisses into your skin and there’s a subconscious urge to close your legs to keep him from getting where he so clearly intends. At the first signs of subtle hesitance, you feel his hands hold your legs open more firmly

 “Let me?” he breathes, “Please?”

 And something about how his voice is so soft –hazy and dreamy and full of so much lust and desire– has you relaxing, giving in. Docile and pliant in his hands. 

 You suppose some things may never change.

 The first feel of his tongue tasting you where no one has before makes you exhale a shaky sigh. Your hole puckering under the featherlight licks he gives. When he circles the cinched muscle, your mouth falls open and you look down your body and between your open legs to where Jeongguk already has his eyes on you. 

 His eyes get little puffs under them when he sees your reaction and smiles. The confusedly pleasured pinch of your brows. The tense way your hands grip the sheets under you.

 Giving your cheek a quick peck, he asks, “Feels good, doesn’t it?”

 It makes the memory of him –hot and hard and leaking with your tongue on his hole– flash in your mind. It reminds you that he knows what he’s doing to you, that he knows he’s making you feel good because you made him feel the same way. Sure the anatomy’s different, but a tongue is a tongue and a hole is a hole. 

 In lieu of being difficult, you answer him with a moan; with your head hitting your pillows again.

 That’s confirmation enough for Jeongguk as he echoes your moan with his own. He wraps his lips around the tight muscle in a nasty wet kiss and then drags his tongue up and along your leaking center till he’s at your clit where he plays until he works you into a whiny mess.

 You’re tensing, and he can feel how your body shifts as your chest expands with the deep breaths you’re taking. Like you’re trying to focus and keep yourself earthbound by delaying the impending high. 

 It’s a high that’s inevitable though, and you have a warning on the tip of your tongue only for it to go to waste when Jeongguk makes his way down again as soon as he senses it.

 And he repeats this– alternating between rimming you tauntingly and eating you till he can tell you’re right on the edge. You can feel how he smirks and you’re sure it’s amusement that you can hear prettying up little noises he purrs. His continuous teasing has you letting out barely contained whiny keens. 

 But Jeongguk can tell you’re doing your best to behave. The brattish way about you from before is nowhere to be seen. Not even when he feels your body slump for the nth time, panting from another almost-orgasm he takes away.   

 “You’re gonna cum aren’t you?” Jeongguk wonders aloud, pulling back a little to see how your pussy clenches in anticipation.

 He hears you swallow, flicks his eyes up to watch as you bring a hand up to tug a little at your hair. It trembles a little as you bring it down to his locks.

 “I- yeah… just… please…” You tug, pulling him to your clit by the crown of his head and holding him there with both hands. “Just stay there, please…”

 You can’t help the way that you start to roll and grind against his face. Jeongguk’s lips and his tongue rubbing against you repeatedly with the up and down motion of your hips, and his nose bumping your clit a little every now and again. 

 His hands dig into your waist like he’s trying to pull you closer, suffocate himself with your cunt. It’s when he shakes his head with subtle little side to side motions over your clit that your pleasure peaks with your legs shaking before they’re closing around his head.

 You cum hard and quietly, hushed ‘don’t stop’s and ‘keep going’s tumbling from your lips as you hold his mouth against you until you can’t take it anymore. You use one hand to pull him away by the hair, your other coming down to press against your still pulsing pussy. 

 With the hold you still have in his hair, you deliriously guide and maneuver him upwards. You’re still trying to catch your breath, so the quiet awed, ‘Whoa…’ you voice sounds airy

 The position you’ve got Jeongguk in now has him straddling you across your upper torso with strong thighs caging you in. His cock bobbing a little right in your face. Heavy and flushed, the tip an angry shade of pink and shiny with precum. It’s instinctive when you reach out with your small hand to wrap around the base. And again, something awe-filled tumbles from your mouth.

 “You’re so hard…” 

 The words float past your lips in the form of a breathless whisper, your lashes fluttering as your gaze jumps from his cock to his face. Your hand strokes lightly, just your fingertips running over the warm, silky skin. 

 “Missed you,” Jeongguk says with a tiny, unabashed shrug. As if that’s explanation enough for the state he’s in.

 He smiles with his bottom lip tugged between his teeth and you smile back.

 The pad of your thumb rubs at the underside of the crown when a drop of precum leaks, massaging it in messily. “Can I use my mouth?”

 “Mhmm,” Jeongguk sounds, not trusting his voice enough to not shake.

 You begin by placing weighted kisses along his length, starting at the base till your lips pucker around the slit. The heady taste of precum makes you purr, moaning softly. Jeongguk’s hips cant forward, and when you glance up you can see how his head has rolled back.

 Smiling at how affected he already is by the smallest things, you run your teeth over the sensitive head. You anticipate the hiss that Jeongguk sucks in. Your tongue swirls around to soothe and to taste before your mouth opens to swallow. 

 The tip of his cock barely grazes the back of your throat before Jeongguke is pulling his hips back and choking just slightly on the whiny gasp that gets caught in his throat. He threads a hand in your hair and tugs you off. 

 Your forehead is resting against his lower tummy, and you giggle a little before you kiss at the slight jutting of his hipbone. His cock throbs, and he groans.

 “What’s wrong?” you ask, smiling into him.

 You can feel his fingers massage lightly at your scalp, and when you glance up at him, he’s looking down at you, lovesick as he rolls his eyes at your playfully. 

 “Go slow, okay?” he asks softly, “Tease me a little?”

 Closing your eyes briefly as you let the sound of his moonstruck voice wash over you, you kiss sweetly at his hip once more before giving small kitten licks to the warm, flushed skin of his cock. He sighs like he’s in love.

 “Like this?” you ask, coquettishly. 

 Jeongguk nods when you look up at him with your mouth open and the tip of your tongue flicking lightly.

 “Lick the tip,” he whispers while he gets a hold of himself and guides it to your mouth. 

 You keep your eyes on him as you slowly drag the flat of your tongue with long licks.

 “Good… that’s good baby…” he says airily.

 Jeongguk glances down his nose at you for just a moment longer before his head is rolling back, and he’s moaning. His little sounds are quiet, but they’re almost constant. And you’re really not doing much, just licking softly at his frenulum, but you can already feel how his cock is getting stiffer, can see how the muscles in his tummy tense and untense… like he’s already getting close.

 Kissing the crown, you pull away, stroking over him lazily. Squeezing at the base when he kicks in your palm. “Already?” you ask gently.

 Jeongguk’s eyes are squeezed shut, like he’s trying to keep his composure, but at your choice of words, he laughs lightly. “Yes, already,” he tells you, pointedly. “That’s why I said to go slow.”

 Slow is good for you. Slow lets you take it all in. Take all of him in. 

 Slow lets you tease drop after drop of precum out; lets you coax your name from Jeongguk’s lip over and over again until you’re sure you’ll hear his lovechants in your dreams tonight. Slow lets you memorize the way that his hands twitch wherever they touch you, how he gasps when your tongue does something that feels extra nice, how he whines when you bring your free hand up and roll his balls in your palm. 

 He’s a bit predictable, endearingly so with the blush on his cheeks as he urges the hand toying with his balls a little farther back. You smile to yourself as you touch him, rubbing at his taint and taking a moment to just watch his face. 

 Jeongguk’s eyes are shut, mouth just barely parted. His brows pinch just slightly when you inch your touch farther back and the cinched muscle clenches briefly under your fingertips, before he relaxes. It’s light and hazy when he whispers, “Yeah, baby…”

 The light circles you’re tracing around Jeongguk’s hole have his cock throbbing. You have to wrap your lips around the head to keep him still enough to taste and properly tease, sucking with tiny bobs of your head as you drink down everything he leaks. 

 “I– ___, oh my god–” Jeongguk pants, looking down at you, like he can’t believe you or your mouth, can’t believe how good it feels to have you again. 

 You hum, lips still wrapped around the tip of his cock as you smile up at him as best you can. His chest expands with a sharp inhale when you press your fingers a littler firmer against his hole.

 “Want me to put them in?” you ask between the soft open-mouthed kisses you press to his cock.

 The sound that Jeongguk lets out makes your kisses cease and has you sinking your teeth into your bottom lip. Your thighs rub together, and your pussy is needy between them.  

 Jeongguk’s never done it before, at least not fully and with someone else. But the thought alone is almost enough to make him finish. It would be a first for you and him, together. Something he’s been wanting, craving.

 He’s still trying to get his thoughts in order when you prompt him with a patient, ‘Hmm?’. 

 “I- No, no–” he ends up saying, “Just– just play with me.”

 It’s sighed, laced with lust and contentment. Having you right now, just playing as he said, is more than enough for him. The anticipation does feel nice though, hot and sweet like a whispered promise of next time. Jeongguk wonders if you’ll ruin him. 

 “You just want me to play?” you ask, “You don’t want to cum?”

 And Jeongguk’s sure you will. Ruin him, that is. If you haven’t already.

 Your voice comes out lovily teasing, and your hands stay busy while you look up at him, eyes big and so pretty. Lips glossy with spit, maybe a little bit of his precum. 

 “Not– not yet?” 

 Jeongguk’s voice sounds unsure in your ears, and his actions contradict his words when you bring your lips to his leaking tip. His hips roll forward seemingly on their own accord, the most sensitive part of his cock rubbing against your tongue that you’ve pillowed underneath the crown. 

 A choked little whine falls from his open mouth before his head is lulling back and his hands are coming to your hair. Humming, you suction your lips around the head and bring the hand you don’t have busy to his hips, urging him to keep rocking his hips, slow so you can keep the pressure from your tongue constant. 

 “Oh my god– baby… baby–” Jeongguk moans, his gaze back on you. His brows furrowed and arched up, his mouth agape. 

 Under your touch, you can feel his muscles tense. How his breaths come out huffed and strained. How he sometimes tries to pull his hips away before he pushes them in like he rethought it, maybe like he never meant to. How no matter how hard he tries to keep from doing it, the stalling pace of his hips picks up.

 And you can tell he’s going to cum. 

 He keeps muttering these fucked out little whispers of your name, of baby, of my baby. Almost like they’re warnings, maybe pleas. But not pleas for you to stop, or tease him anymore. You can hear the difference, can feel it in the way he touches you. Can taste it on your tongue with every heavy drop of precum that he’s leaking.  

 It’s like a string snaps in him, when he groans something deep and dissonant and his hips stop all together and his hold in your hair turns almost painful as he uses his grip to work your mouth over his cock.

 “Yeah,” he breathes, “Don’t fucking stop… Gonna make me fucking cum–”

 His cock is throbbing in your mouth before he even finishes his sentence. Coating your tongue in so many thick, hot shots of white. You hum, moving your fingers from massaging his taint so that you can roll his balls in your palm. 

 Jeongguk’s hand is shaking a little when he brings it down to cup your face, when he gently pulls you off him. His cock still fat and bobbing with the aftershocks of his orgasm. He guides your gaze to his.

 He’s bracing himself above you with his forearm against your headboard, looking down at you a little sweaty and so flushed. Chest rising and falling with deep breaths. He’s got a little smile on his face when he runs the pad of his thumb over the plump of your bottom lip. Your mouth opens instinctively. The little smile on his lips grows before he’s biting it down.

 His thumb presses down on the fleshy muscle, and you naturally let your lips wrap around it.

 “Good girl,” he says, softly.

 His words are tangible, and you close your eyes and you smile as you just let the praise glide over your body. It’s almost like you can feel each letter press a kiss into your skin. 

 Jeongguk’s a copycat as he too presses kisses here and there while he resituates himself. Going from straddling your ribcage to finding his home between your legs. Until you manuver him once more. He’s still home, between your legs, but on his back with you straddling him now.

 Jeongguk doesn’t complain at the manhandling. Just looks up at you, rubs little nonsensical patterns just above the creases of your thighs. 

 “Can we do it now?”

 His laugh is bright and loud at first before he gets a hold of himself, but he’s still smiling as he lets his shining eyes and his hands wander. His fingertips trialing over your skin until his gets his hands to your tits. His thumbs flick over your nipples while he hums, amused. 

 “Now you have to wait for me to be ready again,” he tells you conversationally, still teasing you.

 You pout playfully, letting your own fingers explore, tracing the line of ink where his sleeve comes to an end on his shoulder. “So boring, Gguk,” you jest.

 He scrunches his nose at you. “Why do you think I told you, ‘not yet’?”

 Rolling your eyes, you reposition yourself; less over his torso and more over his hips. “Well,” you start, lowering your pussy down to where his cock lays flat on his tummy, “Waiting doesn’t have to be boring.” You drag your cunt over his still plump, but not-quite hard cock. 

 One of his hands quickly jerks down to get a hold of your hips and stop your movements. He hisses.. 

 He says something about how he never said it had to be boring as you reach between your bodies and get a hold of his half-hard cock. Goes on about how he literally just came and how he needs a second to recuperate as you bring the head to your wet opening. 

 “Can I?” you ask vaguely, interrupting him.

 He doesn’t say anything more, just gives you the littlest nod and he squeezes his eyes shut while you squeeze him into you. He’s not there yet, but he’s still sensitive and its still a tight fit.

 Jeongguk looks down his chest to where you’re sitting prettily on his slowly hardening cock. His eyes roll back slightly before he’s scrubbing one of his hands over his face. “You’re–”

 “Did you watch our video?” you interrupt again. 

 Stuttering a little bit, and winching some, Jeongguk uses the couple of seconds it takes for you to bring yourself down to him, to think. 

 “No, felt guilty… tried to hold out completely but ended up giving in and thinking about you…” he says, his hands finding their place at your hips.. 

 His answer isn’t what you expected but it still has you smiling softly, chest to chest, resting on your elbows, and playing with his hair. “And what did you think about?” you muse, words breathy and flirty.

 Jeongguk’s eyes instinctively dart to your curved lips. “Your mouth.”

 You scrunch your nose at him cutely as you ask, “On your cock?” 

 He gasps when you grind your hips just a little, the movement stiffening his cock up that much more. Jeongguk can feel his cheeks heat up as he shakes his head, the hands he has on your hips moving to your thighs and then back up, squeezing and making little chills crawl across your skin.  

 “On my lips…” he admits quietly, licking them. “Missed kissing you.”

 With a heart that grows fond in your chest, you lean down and give what he missed. Jeongguk sighs into your mouth, melts underneath you. He cranes his neck and the kiss deepens, his tongue slipping in between your lips. It’s not until you having him moaning softly into your mouth that you disconnect from him and make your way to his ear. 

 “Thought about you too,” you tell him, “touched myself to the thought of you missing me; wrapping your hand around your cock with me on your mind.”

 Jeongguk’s fingertips dig into the fatty part of your ass, latches his lips onto the junctre between your neck and your shoulder. He sinks his teeth in just a touch to quiet his moan. 

 The whiny moise that you let out precedes the, “I fanatasized about the way you would fuck me when you came back to me–”

 “I wanted to, but I just felt so bad–”

 “Shh,” you hush him, “Doesn’t matter now…”

 You finally make to move your hips for real this time, but lifting them has you letting out a tiny hiss of pain that’s followed by a cute, airy laugh. “Almost forgot how big you are.”

 Jeongguk’s heart was just tugging inside his chest but now his cock is throbbing inside of you. Even as he wonders if there’s been anyone since him. 

 But once you get over that first hint of pain, past the initial sting of him stretching and filling you up, the only wonder is how Jeongguk survived without you for so long. 

 The light from your blinds peaks through your hair; wild and messy and draping over your shoulder. The long strands almost act as a curtain, hiding you and Jeongguk away. Spots of sunshine come through here and there, and they hit different parts of your body as your body becomes his body. On the tip of your nose, over the curve of your breast, the tops of your thighs. 

 And Jeongguk’s knows he is so fucking lucky. Not because he gets to have you like this –warmed by his touched and sunlight– but because he gets to have it again. Because he gets another chance at having you at all, after fucking it up once already.

 “Gguk,” you pant, “I feel so good right now.” 

 You’ve gone from bouncing on his cock, to griding on it, feeling his tip rub against the deepest parts of you. Your palms are flat on his lower tummy, and when he grabs your hips, helping you move back and forth on him, your nails dig into the muscle. 

 It makes him moan, quiet like the little sounds that you can’t stop making. 

 Jeongguk knows he was basically on the verge of tears just a second ago, but he is still a man and he can’t stop himself from asking, “Who’s making you feel so good baby?”

 He can tell how fucked out and how close you are because of how easily you answer him. How being stubborn and bratty doesn’t even seem to cross your mind when you moan, “You, it’s always you.” 

 Pulling you to his chest and fucking up into your cunt is much sweeter than it probably seems. He does so to be close to you, to feel your chest against his, to feel how your body shakes as you get closer, to feel how you bury your face into his neck to try and muffle your moans and cries.

 “Yeah–” you sob into his skin, “you’re gonna make me cum– please– please, can I cum?”

 Your words come out staccato and irregular, punched out one by one by his cock as he fucks you faster. But Jeongguk doen’t say anything yet, just focuses on the slick sounds your pussy is making everytime he bottoms out, on the feeling of his cock sliding in and out of the slick, velvety heat, on how his fingers sink into your ass as he squeezes and tugs and pulls your cheeks apart to bury himself as deep as he can when he cums with you. 

 “Fuck, baby cum for me,” Jeongguk pants, his words a little rushed as he feels it all come to a head, “Cum all over my fucking cock while I cum in your pussy.”

 You don’t say anything when you cum, and neither does Jeongguk. Both cumming with nothing but gasps. Your’s sounding sweet, almost awed, as you just let your cunt squeeze and contract around Jeongguk’s cock, almost like you forgot you could cum that hard. Jeongguk’s are more guttural as his cock throbs, pulsing with each shot of cum he pumps into your pussy.

 ~~~

 “Your roommates are actually terrifying.”

 The voice makes you smile, laughing sleepily, eyes closed for just a moment longer before you turn your head to see a dishevelleddly dressed Jeongguk, holding a single glass of water in his hand. 

 He shrugs off his blazer that he’s wearing over his briefs (you’ve helped yourself to his button up), and sits next to where you’re laying down. He nudges you his foot till you sit up and take the water from him.

  It’s a content type of quiet while you both pass the glass back and forth, sharing. It only last for a minute or two before Jeongguk is clearing your throat.

 “So… what happened to your plant, hmm?”

 He must have seen the pitiful looking succulent in your living room when he went to get the water. And you know he’s just messing around and that he only said it to strike conversation and fill the silence, but still, it makes something ugly stir in your gut. 

 “You didn’t remind me,” you say, trying to literally shrug it off and give the topic a quick stop.

 But Jeongguk is giggling as he says back, “Oh, so it’s my fault?”

 “Everything is your fault.”

 It’s snappy and said with enough bitterness that Jeongguk is physically taken aback. But then he thinks and then he softens.

 “Hey,” he says gently.

 You look at him, eyes swirling with a mixture of anger and hurt. 

 Jeongguk brushes a little bit of your hair out of your face as he looks you over. “I know,” he acknowledges quietly. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am, but I hope with some time, you’ll be able to see it.”

 You frown a little before giving him a sad small smile and you bring your hand up to cup his cheek. He turns into the touch and gives your palm a soft kiss.

 “I know you’re sorry,” you tell him, “I know you are and I forgive you –my head knows that but– my heart is still sad.”

 Something about how you say it reminds Jeongguk of how young you are. But not in the way it did before. Not like your youth is a burden, or a red flag. It just reminds him that he needs to be careful with you. 

 “I know, and that’s okay… I know it’s going to take time,” Jeongguk gives you a sad, yet understanding shrug.

 And for once, it’s a good thing that time does what time is meant to. It passes and it allows things to grow; for things to heal. 

 “Speaking of time,” you say, lightheartedly trying to change the subject, “How long do I have you?”

 “As long as you want me.”

 Jeongguk’s reply is met with the most underwhelmed, flat stare you have every given him. He snorts before he says, “Till tomorrow afternoon– I have to pick up Nari.”

 His heart feels like it’s going to explode in his chest when he sees how your eyes light up at the mention of his daughter, at how you jabber on with questions about her. How has she been?, Is she talking yet?, Does she still have that narwhal?

 There’s a chance that he might regret it, but there’s also a chance that he might not. 

 So he asks, “Do you want to come with me?” 

 ~~~ 

 However long Jeongguk said it takes to get to his ex-wife’s house, all those months ago, escapes you.

 But right now, it feels like 10 years and 10 minutes all at once. 

 It’s dramatic, yes, how terribly you’ve been fidgeting in the passenger seat of the Mercedes. Even Jeongguk’s big, warm hand petting at your knee can’t quell the nerves.

 It’s making the atmosphere tense, and you feel bad when Jeongguk sounds like he’s walking on eggshells when he tells you, “Thank you for coming with me, I’m really happy you did.”

 You feel even worse when you respond with, “I don’t think I want to go to the door with you.”

 The ever-soothing hand on your leg stutters for barely a second before continuing just as it was.

 “That’s totally fine,” he assures you, eyes on the road and one hand on the steering wheel. “You don’t have to, but if you change your mind, you can. It is your choice.”

 The hand squeezes your thigh reassuringly. 

 And it’s quiet for the rest of the drive. Until Jeongguk is pulling into an empty spot in the driveway of a very big, very nice house. Right next to a Porsche. 

 “Of fucking course.”

 “___.”

 “No, you’re right,” you say, raising your hands appeasingly, “You’re right, I shouldn’t even be surprised–”

 Jeongguk interrupts you with his hands on your cheeks and his lips on your. 

 “Shut.” He gives you one kiss. “Up.” He gives you two kiss.

 His affection makes the tension in your body dissipate and your shoulders slump. “I’m sorry.”

 With his thumbs rubbing over the apples of your cheeks, he gives you a small, understanding, patient smile. Then he asks if you’re sure about not coming to the door with him because he is stupid. 

 You tell him as much as you reiterate how you do not want to go to the door and this time, Jeongguk is the one raising his hands in surrender as he exits the car.

 Leaving you alone with your thoughts.

 Should you get out of the car? Wait inside? Should you have brought Nari a gift? Will she remember you? What if she doesn’t?

 When you hear a distant, familiar baby-giggle, you end up opening the door and standing between Jeongguk’s car and Dasom’s. You feel a little dumb until you hear the pitter patter of little feet on the brick driveway. 

 “I have a surprise for you Nana,” you hear Jeongguk sing cutely.

 And you hear Nari gasp excitedly in response, even cuter.

 As the pair get closer, you can see Jeongguk’s top half over the car, how his arm is swinging back and forth because of the tiny hand that’s holding his where you can’t see.

 Nari is dressed in a black jumper dress with a long-sleeved heart-patterned shirt on underneath when she pops out from behind the car and next to her dad. Kept warm from the slight chill in the air by her knitted tights and her teeny-tiny ugg boots. She’s still round, but she’s gotten taller and you coo softly to yourself.

 But Nari hears the little noise you make and when she sees you, she stops in her tracks. Her little bobble head looking between you and Jeongguk. Then she’s tugging on her dad’s pinky that she’s got a hold of.

 “___!” she says as she nods towards you, like she’s letting Jeongguk know that you’re right there. She sounds sure, almost a little bossy. Doesn’t stutter even a second to remember you. Kind of like she never forgot you. 

 “Ah– what’s with the nodding missy?” Jeongguk tuts, then he looks at you and shakes his head exasperated yet amused. 

 Nari has the nerve to giggle, a big girl no longer brought to tears by her daddy’s scoldings. She looks up at him grinning before she shrugs, like she doesn’t know what got into her. As she raises her little shoulders, her free hand comes up too for emphasis. And gripped tightly in her little hand is her stuffed narwhal. 

 You’re happy.

~~~~~~~~~

aaaaand SCENE. omg heyyyy long time no see girlfriends <3 i hope that u think this was worth the wait but am debilitatingly scared that it did not meet ur expectations so i am hiding <3 im sorry for how long it took but it is here now n that is all my tiny hands have to offer!!  i would love to know what u thought, so please do al the things: reblog, like, comment, send an ask~~ thank u for waiting for me and for reading ily muah :*

[jut-and-dae-enthusiast]

LDR Struggles: Chapter 1 (Illness)

You get sick. How would you ldr skz bf react?

Part 1: Hyung Line

Warnings: being sick, throwing up, talk of taking medication, mentions of food

Chan:

Channies head lifted from his desk, jolted awake by the buzzing of his phone. He had fallen asleep in the studio- again. His eyes barely open, he reached for the device and furrowed his brow. You had tried to call him, apparently, but he must have just missed it. Without a thought, he calls you back, holding the phone to his ear.

“Hullo?” You answered, the congestion obvious in your voice.

“Are you okay?” Chan was fully awake now, concerned for his partner.

“Uh, yeah.” You coughed for a moment and then spoke again. “I have a pretty gross cold though. I just wanted to hear your voice. But you must be busy.”

“You don’t sound good at all, baby.” He sighed, wracking his brain for something he could do. His options were very limited. “Do you need anything? I can have it sent to you?” You coughed again, groaning softly in pain.

“I have all the medicine and stuff I need. I just need to *cough* rest and get better. Sorry to have worried you.” Chan bit his lip, looking down at his shoes.

“I hate this, being so far away. It’s killing me knowing that you have to be in so much pain all by yourself.” He scratches the back of his head, furiously blinking away the tears welling in his eyes.

“It’s not *yawn* your fault. It’s just how it has to be for now. I love… you…” You trail off, your voice soon replaced by gentle snores, indicating to Chan that the call was clearly over.

“Love you too.” He smiled softly to himself and ended the call. He sat quietly for a moment before grabbing his phone again and pulling up a food delivery app, sending some warm soup to your house before proceeding with his work.

Minho:

After ignoring whoever was incessantly calling you, you finally answer it with a weak “Hello?”

“Hey! Why have you been ignoring me?!” The loving voice of your boyfriend boomed through the speakers, almost making your eyes water. You frantically tried to turn the volume down, but the room was suddenly too bright.

“Have… Migraine… Softer… Please.” You plead with him, holding the phone a good distance from your aching head.

“Oh.” He’s quiet for a moment. He then speaks again, much softer this time. “I’m sorry, love. I hadn’t heard from you since yesterday and got worried. Is it a bad one?” All you can do is hum in response, trying to hide under your blankets for any sort of relief. “You ate today, right? You need to eat something even though you may not feel like it.” He’s quiet for a moment, but you can hear him softly reading something to himself. “I made a list of the foods that can help you feel better. I’m going to order you something and have it sent there.”

“Min, you don’t have to do that. You must be busy.” You protest, daring to poke your head from your blanket bubble.

“You’re right, I am busy.” He agrees. “But I know you won’t eat unless I feed you when you’re like this. And since I’m not there, having it brought to you is the best I can do.” After a few more quiet moments, he sighs softly. “Okay, it’s on the way. Go get some water, stretch a little, then eat everything I sent to you. Once you’ve done all of that, you can go back to bed. Deal?”

“Deal.” You smile softly, hesitantly crawling out of bed.

“I have to get back, but I expect text updates.” His voice is stern but you can feel his love.

“I love you, Minho.” You mutter softly, a smile resting on your face now.

“You better.” He teases and then follows with a quick “I love you too.” Before hanging up.

Changbin:

Being on different sides of the world usually meant that you would bombard Changbin with funny Tiktoks while he slept and he would do the same to you. So, naturally, when he received one from you just as he was about to send you one, he frowned and called you.

“Why are you up at this hour?” He asked as soon as you picked up.

“Hi baby to you too.” You rasp, your voice deeper and scratchier than usual.

“Are you sick?” He sat up from the spot he had been laying on the floor (to stretch out his back or something like that), worry evident on his face.

“Ah, you caught me.” You chuckle and then wince at the pain. “I got strep throat from one of my nephews, so it hurts a lot right now to swallow or do anything really. It’s been waking me up around this time for the past few days.”

“You went to the doctor, though, right?” He asks gently, trying his best not to nag.

“Yup. And I’ve got all the medication and cough drops I need. And I’m drinking a ton of water.” You inform him proudly. You can hear him sigh a bit, the silence on his side of the phone extremely loud. “Binnie? You there?”

“Why didn’t you tell me? Were you really going to try and hide it from me?” He sounds hurt and you can almost perfectly imagine how his face looks: pouted lip with sad eyes and furrowed brows.

“Bin, I just… I’ve had to take care of this stuff myself for all of my adult life. It’s kind of just an automatic response to just handle it quietly at this point. I live alone and no one has the time to baby me.” You explain gently, a dry cough ending your sentence.

“Someday, when we get married, I’m gonna baby you so much whenever you get sick. I promise.” He says with a tone of voice that’s so cute you can’t help but swoon.

“I look forward to it, baby.”

Hyunjin:

You jumped awake, lifting your head from the cool bathroom floor, sweat dampening your hair around your face and on your neck. Your stomach lurched and you clung to the toilet, dry heaving since everything had come up hours ago but your stomach hadn’t gotten the memo. Your phone buzzed from the kitchen counter and, to your embarrassment, your boyfriend was trying to FaceTime you. With no excuse, you accepted the call and pointed the camera to the ceiling.

“Hey, my love. What’s up?” You tried to make your voice sound normal, head resting against the wall.

“Hm? Where’s my pretty girlfriend?” He muttered, looking closely at the screen. You rolled your eyes and brought the top of your head into frame.

“I’m right here.”

“Why are you sitting in the bathroom? Something’s wrong here.” He pressed and you could see his lips purse together. You yielded, too tired to lie to him. You pull the phone down and show your entire face, wiping the sweat from your forehead. “Whats going on, my love?” He asked softly, seeing that you’re not well.

“I think I ate something bad when I was out with my friends last night. It hurts so badly and I can’t keep any food down.” You closed your eyes and sighed.

“Aw, honey, I’m so sorry. Is there anything I can do to help?” He asked and guilt bubbled in your chest. You knew what he was feeling, that useless feeling while your love is in pain. Too far away to do anything or to even help. You slowly stood and walked to your bed, feeling better even just having your boyfriend here with you like this. As you laid down, you looked at the screen and smiled softly.

“Can you just sing for me, Hyune? Sorry that’s cringe, I just-“ You immediately felt embarrassed by your request, not thinking about what he might be doing right then.

“Of course, love of my life. Are you comfy?” He looks at you with a small smile, propping his device against something and scrolling through his iPad for backtracks. “Any requests, pretty?” His voice is soft and you can see how happy he is to be helping you feel better.

[emmyhem]

everything you’re missing (c.t.h)

a/n: hi everybody, i’m back with another post. this is my first calum piece and i’m so excited to finally get it up. this is once again unedited, i’m way too tired rn. it’s also the second smut i’ve posted so that’s pretty exciting as well. yeah i don’t really have much to say right now because i’m literally exhausted, my classes are really kicking my ass. anyway i hope you all enjoy this bff!calum piece. feedback and comments are always appreciated. hope you all are doing well and are being safe. thank you - emmy <33

pairing: bff!calum hood x fem!reader

summary: a drunken text meant for your ex shows up on calum’s phone and leaves him questioning everything he’s missing out on with his best friend.

warning(s): talk of a previous bad relationship, y/n’s ex body shamed her, mentions of alcohol, insecurity, smut, cursing

word count: 4.7k

You’ve decided that 3 glasses of wine is your happy medium, but even a sip into the 4th and there’s no telling what you’ll do. 

So, naturally you were finishing up your 5th glass on Friday night while angrily scrolling through your exes instagram when you got what seemed to be an incredible idea. It was simply too tempting not to, your mind was feeling hazy which made your confidence skyrocket, and you truly did just look good. 

A day of pampering had left you in a black floor length silk robe with nothing but your favorite deep cherry red lingerie set underneath. Your face was bare and glowing after a refreshing and illuminating face mask, and your lips were left glossy and plump from a new scrub. 

You had posed in front of the floor length mirror in your living room, giggling between snaps until you had taken the perfect shot. It was classy but provocative, the dressing gown slipping from your shoulders exposing the lace of your bra and a tasteful amount of cleavage. You had also left the bottom open, allowing a clear shot of your thighs and the curve of your ass from where you sat on your knees. 

With a mischievous glint in your eyes you selected the picture into a message, typing a cheeky, “take a good look at everything you’re missing”  and sending it off to your ex (or so you thought). 

But you really couldn’t be blamed for your mistake, Cam and Cal were far too similar for your drunk brain to decipher the difference. You also couldn’t be blamed for the fact that you dozed off on the couch immediately after sending it, before you even had a chance to recognize your humiliating mistake. 

You were awoken by the ringing of your phone at around 9:00 am, way too early for your liking. Before even registering who it was, you brought the phone to your ear and groaned a sleepy, “hello,” 

“At your door.” a voice you recognized as your best friend responded. 

“M’coming” you said, scooting off the couch. On your way to the door you registered that you were still scantily covered, the robe falling off of you as you walked. You clutched it around you as you swung the door open to a wide eyed, Calum Hood. 

“G’morning.” he smirked, looking you up and down. 

“Shh” you hushed, pulling him in by the arm. “Why in the world are you here so early?”

He lightly laughed while taking a seat at the kitchen table, eyes following you while you moped over to the fridge and pulled out two water bottles. 

“Well,” he sighed as you handed him one. “I got a very interesting text last night and I figured I just had to come over and see, y’know everything I was missing.” he spoke in a teasing tone as he gestured a hand down your body.

You tugged your eyebrows together in confusion. There was something familiar about what he was saying, but not familiar enough for you to put the pieces together. 

“What are you talking about?” you questioned bringing the water bottle to your lips. 

Calum shrugged his shoulders, a smirk still glued to his face as he took out his phone and began looking for something. After a few seconds he extended his arm to hand you his phone. You accepted it and glanced down absentmindedly as your body slumped against the counter.  

The second your eyes hit the screen it all came back to you, your mouth fell open and you straightened out, suddenly very awake, not to mention very mortified. 

Calum on the other hand was buzzing. Actually, he had been ever since his phone dinged last night awakening him from his sleep. Well, buzzing and extremely, extremely sexually frustrated. 

When he first opened your message and saw the picture that would now be making a regular appearance in his wet dreams, he had nearly choked on his own breath. He knew that it was most likely a drunken mistake, and while that slightly saddened him it didn’t stop his dick from plumping up at the sight, straining uncomfortably against his boxers. He seriously debated wanking to the tempting image but decided against it, thinking it would be a gross violation of your privacy since it wasn’t even meant for him. Oh how he wished it was. Unfortunately that meant he had been sporting an exceptionally sensitive halfie since then. 

“Oh my god.” you groaned, sitting the phone down on the counter and covering your eyes in humiliation. “Cal I’m soooo sorry, I was drunk, and overly confident, and I meant to send this to Cam and now I’m just, I’m sorry.” you reiterated. 

‘Hey, don’t apologize on my account.” he countered. “Plus, you should be thrilled you sent it to me and not that asshole, doesn’t deserve ya.” 

“I know, you’re right. Doesn’t change the fact that I’m mortified though. S’bit ridiculous, get a little alcohol in my system and I have a god complex all of a sudden” you rambled, running your hands through your hair nervously. 

Calum stood and pulled you into his arms, resting his chin on the top of your head. 

“You think too much, y’know that?” he quipped. 

You turned your head, pressing a cheek against his sweater clad chest and mumbled, “Yea I’ve been known for that.” 

Calum softly chuckled at your words before pressing a chaste kiss to the top of your head and pulling apart. 

“S’really no big deal, y/n.” a teasing grin plastered on his face. “Besides I can’t say I didn’t enjoy it.”

“Calum!” you scolded, swatting a hand at his arm. 

He dodged your hit just in time and held his hands up in surrender before taking his seat again. 

“Why'd you let that dick bother you anyway? Y’know you’re way out of his league.” 

Your jaw clenched at the question, your mind wandering to every time you had come to Calum crying after your ex had done something to hurt you. Everytime he commented on your “stomach pudge” as he liked to call it, when you wore a tight dress to go out. Or when he would ask if you were really “that” hungry, even if you hadn’t eaten much at all. And each time you would feel absolutely wretched and end up sobbing in Calum’s arms, but refusing to tell him why you were so, so sad. 

“He texted me the other day y’know?” you muttered under your breath, while fiddling with the coffee machine. 

“Really? What’d he say?” Calum responded, watching your back with narrowed eyes. 

“Uh, he saw me the other night, when we were at that bar with the guys.” you said, shaky fingers pulling out a mug. 

“And?” he spoke flatly. 

“It’s stupid really,” you sniffled, willing your voice not to break. “He said I put on a few pounds, that he was glad he got out when he did.” your bottom lip traitorously jutted out as you turned to face him. 

“Fucking dick.” he hissed. 

Calum wasn’t necessarily proud of the violent images that flashed through his mind at the thought of that asshole finding yet another way to hurt you but, the sad little quiver of your lip allowed him to reason without a doubt that they were fair. 

Before you could even blink he was holding you again, arms impossibly tight around you. . 

“He’s wrong, y/n. Fuck, I don’t know how to even...he’s just so wrong.” he said softly, his hand rubbing your back reassuringly. 

“I know.” you whimpered, holding tears back. 

He pulled back enough to look you in the eyes, arms still firm around your waist. 

“No you don’t. It’s...It really fucking pisses me off that he makes you feel like this. It’s like-fuck you’re just like-” he moved his hands to cup your cheeks. “You really are gorgeous.” 

Your heart fluttered at his words, and your whole body felt warm as you stared at his big brown eyes. His words felt sincere, everything about him felt so sincere. 

“Thank you, Cal.” 

He pulled you back into his chest, “Really wish I could just, like hug away all his bullshit.” 

“M’used to it.” you mumbled. 

“You don’t deserve any of it.” 

“Yea, well what can you do.” you sighed, moving out of his embrace. 

Calum’s eyes were still glued to you as you stirred a spoonful of sugar in your coffee. 

“I hope you don’t let anything he says get to you.” 

You let out a breath of exhaustion. 

Confidence wasn’t something that you used to struggle with. I mean sure, there were spouts of insecurity here and there but you knew your worth, and you considered yourself pretty, hot even. That had all changed a few months into your latest relationship. First it was the backhanded compliments which quickly turned into passive comments, and then outright cruel insults. People really underestimate the toll their words take on others, especially when the person that’s making you feel so ugly and worthless, is one that you adore and who’s supposed to adore you right back, no matter what. 

“I try but, he can’t just be making it all up.” you were ashamed. When did you become the girl that lets a guy affect how she sees herself? That just wasn’t you. 

“He is. He’s insecure and a douche. He was probably trying to destroy your confidence to the point that you felt like you couldn’t leave him.” Calum assured. “But you’re way too strong for him, dumped his sorry ass anyway.” 

You smiled gratefully at his words, taking a seat next to him. 

“Yea, so strong I tried to send him half naked pictures for reassurance.” 

Calum shook his head, “I wish you could see how hot you are.” 

Your eyes widened at the compliment, your head dropping to avoid his stare as blood rushed to your cheeks. 

“I’d be happy to reassure you whenever you want.” he continued, bumping his knee against yours under the table. 

“Doesn’t count.” you dismissed, before sipping your coffee. “You're my best friend, you’re obligated to tell me I’m pretty.” 

“Doesn’t mean I don’t mean it.” he muttered back quietly, his expression dropping slightly. He hated when you deflected his compliments. All he ever wanted to do was make you feel good, and you made it very difficult for him when you blocked every swing he took at the wall of insecurity that Cam had built around you. He would kill Cam if he could. 

You let out an apologetic sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck and burying your face in his shoulder. 

“M’sorry, you’re right. I love you for that, the only thing keeping me sane.” 

Your heart squeezed as he hugged you back. 

Calum was perfect, he was sweet, and funny, and quite literally your favorite person on earth. Not to mention you had been hopelessly in love with him since practically the beginning of your friendship. But as his best friend you had heard over and over just how uninterested he was in a relationship. Everytime you would ask about his love life he would just respond, 

“I’m just not the boyfriend type, m’not cut out for it.” shrugging nonchalantly. 

Which you thought was laughable because anyone would be lucky to have him as a boyfriend, in fact sometimes you would let yourself pretend he was yours. 

Like,in a busy club with his hands on your hips, guiding you through the crowds. So close behind, you could feel each exhale on the back of your neck, as his eyes darted around the room to ensure there weren’t any potential threats to your safety, in the form of drunk overzealous flirts. Or after a night out when he got cuddly and clingy, and would find his way from the couch into your bed. You’d wake up with his cheek pressed against your chest and his arms snaked around your torso as he released soft breaths that caused goosebumps to rise on your exposed skin. You’d let yourself imagine that you had this every morning and that he would wake up any minute to smother your face in kisses and tell you he loved you. And of course, here he was again this morning being so thoughtful and kind and everything you wanted in a boyfriend. And here you were again swimming in his praises and physically having to restrain yourself from kissing him. 

Begrudgingly, you pulled away and stood up. 

“Gonna get changed.” you spoke. 

“I’m making us breakfast.” Calum called as you walked away. You hummed in response and slipped into your room. 

Once in the privacy of your own room you quickly pulled on a pair of leggings and a hoodie before scurrying to the bathroom sink and splashing cold water on your face in hopes of ridding yourself of any romantic thoughts towards your best friend.

Although you weren’t aware, Calum was doing the very same thing just a few feet away. Internally reminding himself repeatedly that it was never gonna happen with you. He wasn’t good enough to be anyone’s boyfriend, let alone yours. You didn’t want him that way and he could almost trick himself into believing that he was okay with that.

You hastily finished brushing your teeth before returning to the kitchen. You were greeted with the sight of Calum’s back, he stood over the toaster cutting an avocado and humming a song you didn’t recognize quietly to himself.  He looked over his shoulder as your footsteps approached. 

“Hungry?” he questioned. 

“You have no idea.” you affirmed, as he fixed a plate for you both. 

“Good. I was thinking we could watch something while we eat,” 

“Fine with me.” you responded, hoping he wouldn’t notice the distraction laced in your voice. Your focus had easily been stolen from the conversation to how easy it was to see his back muscles flex through the thin material of his jumper. 

But of course he did, it was Calum after all. 

“Y’alright?” he said, handing you a plate. 

“Uh, yep.” you rushed out. 

“Not still thinking about Cam, are you?” 

“No, not at all.” you answered honestly, walking to the couch, Calum trailing closely behind you. 

“Then what’s got you all flustered?” 

“You” you thought, taking a seat in the furthest corner. 

“I’m not flustered.” 

“Bullshit” he countered, sitting practically on top of you. 

You let out a huff, and motioned to the other  completely empty side of the couch. 

“Is there a reason we aren’t practicing personal space right now?” 

He laughed softly at your question and nuzzled closer into your side. 

“Yea, you’re all pouty, looks like you need a cuddle.” 

 “I’m really fine Cal.” you shoved him lightly but saw no results, he just scooched in even closer and bit into his toast. 

The two of you sat in silence while some newly released action movie played on your TV. Calum’s arm was wrapped around your shoulders keeping you tight to his side, and although you could’ve sworn that you had been in this exact same position hundreds of times, you felt as if this were the very first time. Every single one of your nerves were on fire and the warmth that had flooded your body was making you antsy. 

Feeling overwhelmed by your senses, you allowed your eyes to flutter close with a deep inhale. 

“You okay?” Calum whispered, dipping his head down slightly to reach your ear.

You opened your mouth to respond but didn’t trust your voice to protrude through your shaky exhales, settling for a subdued nod instead. 

“You sure?” his words were long and drawled out, despite your eyes being closed you knew his proximity from the feeling of his breath just behind your ear. 

Before you could speak up his hand secured itself just above your knee, and your muscles flexed involuntarily at the contact. 

“Relax, y/n” he continued, his thumb beginning to run repeatedly over a spot on your inner knee. 

Everything in your brain was screaming at you to excuse yourself, maybe even kick him out, anything to gain some space and hopefully some clarity from the cloud of sexual tension that was looming over the two of you and blurring boundaries at lightning speed. But you were essentially frozen in place, petrified that any movement would alert Calum to the way he was affecting you. 

Your head lolled back to rest on his forearm which was lying behind you on the couch and finally peeled your eyes open, staring up at the ceiling. 

He watched you from the corner of his eye, taking note of every rise and fall of your chest, every thick swallow of your throat. 

If there was one thing Calum was well versed in, it was his ability to read you, he liked to think he knew you better than anyone else in the world. He could tell exactly how you were feeling just by watching you, your face, your breathing and he was more than shocked when he started getting the feeling you were no longer upset but something far more appealing. 

Were you turned on? Right here in his presence? The thought made blood rush to his dick, which twitched in his pants when another breathy sigh passed your lips. 

“What’re you thinking about, love?” 

Everything in you urged you to answer honestly, just tell him the truth. “You, I’m thinking about you. I’m always thinking about you.” But you couldn’t do that, so instead you deflected. 

“What’re you thinking about?” you countered, meeting his eyes. 

Calum questioned his next words very carefully, debating whether or not he could recover if he was wrong about what you were feeling and you shut him down. It was pointless though, he knew he would never recover from your rejection. He also knew that spontaneous combustion wouldn’t look very good on his tombstone and that’s exactly what would happen if he spent one more minute not kissing you. 

Fuck it. 

“That pretty little set you had on last night.” he confessed. 

That you weren’t expecting. 

A quiet whine rang from your throat and you were far too affected to feel embarrassed. 

And that did it, Calum was now impossibly hard in his pants, no doubt leaking precum onto his boxer briefs. He needed to get his hands on you, now. 

His hand started to slowly travel up your thigh, goosebumps rising on every centimeter they passed. 

“So gorgeous in red, aren’t ya y/n?”

“Cal,” you hissed when his thumb brushed the sensitivity of your inner thigh. 

“Mm.” he hummed. “It’d be pretty hard fo’me to stop right now, but I will if that’s what you want. Is that what you want, love?” 

He was sure he’d cry if he had to let go of you now, but he needed to hear you say it. 

“No, don’t wanna stop.” you whined, turning your body flush to his.

“Whaddya want then, baby? Hm?” You could feel his every word on the flushed skin of your neck as he leaned into the crook.

“Want you.” 

He could’ve came then and there. 

“Then I’m all yours.” he admitted before crashing his lips on yours. 

Your heart was in your stomach as his tongue entered your mouth, explorative and eager. He was too busy memorizing your taste to notice your fingers tugging at his sweater. You attempted to push it up desperate to feel his skin under your hands. You were able to pull the fabric up about halfway before they were blocked by his arms that were holding you close against him.

Calum laughed when you pulled apart from the kiss, giving him a disappointed look. 

“Want it off?” he teased. 

You couldn’t bother to be embarrassed when you nodded eagerly in response. He didn’t waste any time peeling the fabric off of his skin, and you were quick to lightly run a finger across the ink feather just below his collarbone. 

Now it was his turn to tug on your clothes, “Level the playing field?” 

You nodded, lifting your arms and allowing him to lift the sweatshirt over your head leaving your chest completely bare. Calum groaned at the sight of your tits, his hands quickly finding your waist and tugging you down to lay on your back in one swift motion. 

Once you were laid out in front of him he took the opportunity to explore the new skin. His hands left a lingering warmth as they dragged across your stomach and despite the kind words and endearing demeanor that he always upheld with you, you found yourself shying under his gaze, wanting to curl away from him. As your hands began to wrap around your stomach in an attempt to cover yourself up he quickly pushed them away, locking them in place on either side of you. 

“Wanna see everything baby, all of you.” he cooed in your ear before nipping at the lobe. 

His kisses began to travel down your neck, sucking a few marks to your collar bones and the surrounding areas. When his fingers grazed over a fresh bruise in the dip just between your neck and shoulders you hissed lightly. 

“You look so pretty marked up for me. All mine, aren’t you baby? Not Cam’s, mine. Say it.” 

“Yours, Cal.” you admitted, feeling your body sink further into the couch. You had never felt drunk off of someone’s words before and the experience was leaving you sputtering, completely compliant to your best friend. 

He hummed contently at your confession, his large hands gripping at your hips, before slowly peeling your leggings off.

“Y’feel so good in my hands, like you were made for me.” his thumbs poking at the soft skin, just beneath your panties. 

The feeling of his hands so close to where you needed them, but not quite there was driving you crazy. 

“Cal, please.” you begged. 

He groaned before tugging at the cotton covering you. “Cam’s a fucking idiot, y’know that? He had the prettiest girl in the world and treated her like shit. I’d never do that, wanna worship you baby.” 

It was ridiculous how overwhelmed his words were leaving you, all desperate and squirming. As his fingers met the soaked expanse of your cunt you couldn’t hold back the throaty moan it elicited. 

A pornographic sigh followed close behind, one that made Calum want to pinch himself to ensure he wasn’t in the midst of a haunting dream. 

“Soaked f’me darling.” he mused, running his fingers up and down your folds to completely coat you in your arousal. You whimpered at the feeling, bucking your hips up desperate for friction. 

Tutting while shaking his head, he used one hand on your lower stomach to press you back down to the couch. 

“Stay still for me won’t you, love?” he cooed, continuing to run his fingers over your core lightly. 

When you bobbed your head up and down in agreement he lifted your leg to his mouth, pressing a kiss to your calf. 

“Hm, good girl.” he praised, softly laying your leg back down. 

Calum hovered above you, dipping his head down every so often to peck at your chest, his fingers still unrelenting. The knot in your lower stomach tightened every second that passed and you felt like you could scream at any second, yearning to be full. 

Calum felt like he could burst any minute himself but was determined to make this experience the best of your life. He wanted to give you something to remember, a reason to want more. 

Your soft moans and frustrated grunts alerted him to your neediness and he was just about ready to give in for the both of you. 

“What do you need from me, baby?” he said against your shoulder before peppering kisses across your collar bones. 

You could only respond with an airy moan when his fingers found your clit. 

“Hm? My fingers?” You shook your head aggressively. He knew exactly what you wanted, the tease. 

“No? Want my mouth?” he teased further, leaving an opened mouth kiss in between your tits. 

“Cal,” you sighed. “Fuck me, please.”

He groaned at your words, nipping lightly at the skin before ridding himself of his pants. 

“You’re a fucking dream, y’know that?” he praised, desperately searching for a condom in his pants. When he finally located one he held it up to you as if it were a prized possession, smiling proudly at his own preparedness. 

He hastily freed himself from the constraints of his boxers and rolled the condom on, never once taking his eyes off of the blissful expression on your face. 

“Ready?” he questioned, his tip lightly pressing at your entrance. You nodded and sucked in a breath, bracing yourself for the stretch, your eyes falling closed in the process. 

When a few seconds went by and nothing happened you opened your eyes to find Calum staring down at you in awe. 

“Cal,” you whined. “what’re you doing?” 

Your words seemed to break him from his trance, he shook his head and muttered an apology to you. 

“Sorry, fuck you’re pretty. You’ve got no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” 

“Then stop waiti-” your words were cut off by a sharp hiss that couldn’t have been prevented as his length finally pressed into you. 

“Fuck.” Calum groaned his head falling back. You felt too good around him, seriously he was fucked, completely ruined for you. 

You felt the exact same as your silky moans filled the room. You had never been filled this good and you questioned how you had gone so long without this. 

“M-move” you sighed, clenching around him. 

You could hear his breath catch at the feeling and he grunted out a strained, “Need a minute.” 

He held himself in place for a few more seconds until his breaths began to even out once again before pulling nearly all the way out and slamming back in. 

You yelped, pulling your lip between your teeth in hopes to drown the sound. 

He continued slamming into you at an unrelenting pace, taking notice of each time your eyes would roll back when he brushed against your g-spot. He could write a book about how good you looked all fucked for him. 

As his thrusts grew closer together you could feel your release creeping up on you.  

“Cal, need’ta cum.” you stuttered out. 

His hands tightened around your hips, pulling you even closer to him as his head poked at that spot again. 

“Go on baby, let go.” he encouraged, willing himself to hold out a little longer as your walls fluttered around him. 

Once you had came it only took him about three more thrusts before he was painting the condom with his release, groaning your name as his hand searched for yours to intertwine them as he came down from his own high. 

  His body flopped next to yours on the couch, both of you struggling to fit next to each other in such a small space, not that either of you minded the close quarters. 

Your fingers remained laced together as you caught your breath, Calum peppering kisses to your shoulder and mumbling praises into your skin. 

“You’re an angel. God, I just- I love you.” he said, causing your head to snap in his direction. 

He looked like a deer in headlights when you asked for him to repeat himself. 

“I love you?” he obliged.

“Is it a question?” 

“No, I’m just not used to saying it.” he admitted, vulnerability clear in his eyes. 

You wanted to kiss away the worried crease in his forehead but instead pressed your lips to his, pulling apart a fraction of an inch to speak after a few seconds.

“I love you too.” you ensured. 

Calum eyes widened, not expecting you to say it back, at least not so soon. He had so much he wanted to say to you but figured all of it could be summed up by another kiss to your soft lips. So he closed the distance once again, using a bit more force this time in hopes it would convey the strength of his feelings for you.

[peterpparkerwrites]

begin again - part eight (final)

a/n: currently on hiatus - look at my pinned post for more info! I have this series and the following ones scheduled to post twice a day - once at 11:00 AM PST and once at 7:00 PM PST. since I will be gone and can’t update links, if you want to find previous parts, just scroll down my page :) warnings: language, death mentions, anxiety/ptsd mentions, drinking mentions, blood mentions, gun mentions, sorry for all that LMAO pairing: college peter x reader word count: 5k

masterlist ~ requests are closed!

taglist: @lilbeatlebear @somefuckshit1 @hufflepuffseeker @nocturnalms

@sanniesdiary 

~

Peter woke up to a bottle of advil and cup of water by his bed, and a bad feeling in the pit of his stomach that wasn't just nausea.

He didn't drink very often, and it usually took a lot for him to get drunk because his powers fought against it. But it was possible, and he proved that only once before when he and Ned were being stupid and wanted to test it out.

Now he did it for the second time, and he really wished he hadn't.

You didn't leave any trace that you were there except for the advil and water, which brought some anxiety to his stomach. He wanted to call and make sure you got home alright, he knew you had been drinking too and the thought of you wandering back alone made him feel even more sick.

But he stumbled out of his room to see one of his blankets draped over the back of the couch and relaxed a little. You must've slept on the couch and left this morning. His chest tightened at that, wondering if you stayed because you didn't want to go home alone and drunk, or maybe...you wanted to make sure he was okay until the morning.

He scrapped that thought quickly, highly doubting it was the latter. You probably hated him, especially after that stupid stunt he pulled last night.

He felt sick again as soon as he remembered. Why was he so stupid?

Instead of dwelling on that he went to his room to grab his phone, knowing that he should at least thank you. The amount of messages you had sent from the last two months made him more annoyed at himself, but it wasn't like he could change it now.

thanks for bringing me home

He bit his lip as he sent it, deciding to type out another text.

i'm sorry

With a sigh he rubbed his chin and grabbed the glass of water, chugging it to try and get the gross taste of alcohol out of his mouth before deciding it would be best to just brush his teeth.

You didn't reply right away, which he had expected. He knew you were a quick replier but that was different now - he had left you on read for months, he would've been stupid to expect you to reply right away, or even at all.

To his surprise his phone dinged and he scrambled to finishing brushing his teeth and grabbed it, sighing in disappointment when he realized it was just a text from MJ.

His annoyed expression turned confused when he saw what she sent, though.

don't be stupid then, loser, just be honest with her. also i'm not your therapist why don't you text ned about this. and drink some water you sound fucked

With a little panic he went to see what he texted her before, realizing he must have messaged her while he was drunk. He was surprised she could even understand half of the things he sent, considering there were a ton of typo's and sentences that made no sense. Except for one.

I really rally like her but Im scared i messed it up

He ran a hand through his hair and sighed, the nauseous feeling coming back. Apparently drunk Peter had a way easier time admitting how he felt than sober Peter. He went back to MJ's text and chuckled a little, shaking his head at her bluntness.

He could always count on her to tell it to him straight without caring if his feelings were hurt.

He was shaking as MJ cleaned up his knuckles, trying to get him to unclench his fist a little. She had been startled when he showed up at her window covered in blood with red rimmed eyes and the mask clenched between his fists, but he was able to say what happened despite how much it hurt, and she decided her first priority was to help him.

Grieving could be pushed until later.

"Why did you come to me?" She asked quietly, staring up at him with slight concern in her eyes.

"I don't want Ned or May to see this," he croaked out, "They'd-they'd be so disappointed."

"But you didn't-"

"No, I didn't kill him, but I wanted to, I-I almost did. I easily could have," Peter bit his lip to stop it from trembling, "MJ, she was just lying there-"

"Don't," MJ said firmly, though Peter could hear a little shake in her voice. She was her best friend, too. "I can't hear that Peter, and you shouldn't dwell on it, it'll just make you feel worse."

He went silent as she continued to clean up his bloodied hands, the sight of them making him angrier. He never hurt anyone with the intent that he did tonight, and he wished he felt more guilty about it.

How could he not feel guilty about hunting down her murderer?

"So...he's gonna live?" She asked after a moment, wrapping the bandages carefully around his hands.

"Yeah. I think he'll be in the hospital a while before jail but...yeah," Peter held his other hand up while she moved to get another bandage.

"You did the right thing," she replied, "I know it doesn't feel like it but...you did. Killing him wouldn't have brought her back."

This is why he chose to come to MJ instead of May or Ned, not only because they were so clear in their expressions that he would know right away if they were disappointed (which they would inevitably be) - he knew MJ would tell it to him straight, even if it hurt to hear.

"Thank you," he replied quietly, shutting his eyes while she finished cleaning his cuts.

She nodded and finished wrapping the bandage, cutting the end with some scissors and taping it on. "Do her parents know?"

Peter swallowed, wishing he could get rid of the looks on her parents faces when he showed up as Spider-Man to deliver the news. "Yeah, they went to the hospital last I knew but...but she was already..."

MJ sniffed a little, quickly wiping her eyes. "I'm so sorry, Peter."

"Yeah...I am too."

"I can't believe she's gone," she said quietly, sitting on her bed next to him. "It doesn't feel real."

"I'm sorry I told you like this," Peter muttered but she quickly shook her head, taking one of his hands in hers.

"I'd rather hear it from you than in the news or a phone call," she sighed, "And I'm glad you came to me for help. We're gonna get through this, Peter. You and me and Ned and all of us."

He squeezed her hand a little, "Yeah...we'll get through it."

He wished he could believe that.

His phone went off again and he snapped out of it, clicking the new text from you.

don't worry about it.

No smiley face, no goofy emojis. His heart hurt a little at that, but he knew he deserved it.

He deserved a lot worse than that.

-

And I...I really missed you

Once you slept and took several pain killers and drank probably a gallon of water, you let yourself wonder why the hell you were letting those words bother you so much.

You didn't really have to wonder why they bothered you, but you did wonder why you were still letting him affect you like this. And you were really wondered why he bothered saying those words to you, and especially why the hell he would kiss you right after.

You weren't a blackout drinker and it was easy to remember how it felt to have Peter kiss you, even if it was just for a few seconds. And it was nice. You hated that, you hated that you still wanted to be with him even though he was treating you like this.

It was obvious that you deserved better than that, and you knew it, too.

But that didn't mean you were gonna get over it so easily. You knew Peter was a nice guy but he clearly had a lot going on to where he was hurting you and that wasn't okay.

You jumped a little when your phone buzzed, your roommate grumbling something before turning over and going back to sleep. With a grimace you opened your messages and was shocked to see who decided to finally text you.

thanks for bringing me home

You frowned when you read Peter's text, barely having time to blink before he sent another one.

i'm sorry

He had apologized twice now, technically. You weren't sure if he was apologizing for kissing you, or for you having to bring his drunk ass home, or everything that he's done in the past few months that has hurt you.

Either way, it wasn't enough to make you feel any better. If he was going to give you a sincere, actual apology, then maybe you would be able to accept it. And if he was going to explain himself with valid reasons for why he hurt you, you might even forgive him.

Might.

You put your phone back down and frowned, deciding to get ready for the day and make him wait a little for you to respond. Like you even knew what you were gonna respond with anyway.

Your roommate got up too and muttered something about how annoying your phone sounds were and how she couldn't wait to go home tonight, before grabbing her bag and rushing out the door. You were a little happy that she had left and decided to reply to Peter's text before jumping in the shower.

You sent the text quickly and grabbed your hairbrush, yanking it through your hair while glancing at your phone a few times.

If he replied, you would be pretty surprised. You didn't have any clue what he would possibly say, since your text was pretty straight forward and not really something to continue a conversation on. Part of you hoped he would send something back anyway, but you quickly scolded yourself for thinking that.

It was past time to get over that stupid boy and your hopes that he might come around and change. If he did then whatever, you weren't going to sit around and wait for him.

With a sigh you shoved your phone away, grabbing your books and deciding to put some time to finishing your work before the weekend. The weather was great and you wanted to get out and take some pictures, maybe even dragging Harry along, but you didn't want to do that until you finished your work for your classes.

It seemed like it was going to be a long day.

-

"There's strange activity a few blocks away according to police comms," Karen said through the mask, "Go right."

"Thanks," Peter sighed through his nose, shooting a web in the right direction and moving with it, trying to go faster.

The day had been boring, he could barely remember much of what he did. He drank a ton of water as MJ suggested, still feeling shitty as he did his rounds. After a while he just went back to his apartment to take a nap and decided to do a late night patrol later on, so here he was.

When he got to the scene he tensed, noticing it was a bunch of men arguing - a large duffle was in the middle, making him more alert.

He hated coming across drug deals - they hit a little too close to home.

"Shut up or you're gonna attract unwanted attention!" One of the guys yelled, making Peter roll his eyes.

He observed the scene, noticing several men surrounding the bag and waving their arms around while arguing. A couple people stood some feet back from the two main guys arguing, but he noticed only the two had guns on their hips. The rest seemed unarmed, or they had knives tucked away and hidden. Easy enough.

He jumped down in the middle, making several of the guys jump back in surprise. He quickly disarmed the two main guys and shot webs on their hands before turning to the rest.

"Hey guys," he said, crossing his arms, "Oh sorry, am I interrupting?"

"Get out of here, or she gets it," one of them said angrily, yanking out and pointing a gun at someone he didn't notice before, a few feet behind most of them.

Peter froze when he realized it was you.

"Y/N?" He whispered, taking a few slow steps forward.

What the hell were you doing here? You were just standing there with a scared look on your face, shaking your head at him. Something wasn't right but he didn't have time to figure out why.

"Watch it, Spidey," the guy threatened, holding the gun up to you again while you shut your eyes. "Actually, this shit isn't worth it."

"Hey don't, don't shoot her," Peter struggled to say, feeling like he was speaking through jello, but the guy raised his gun with intent this time. "Don't!"

It felt like a repeat of when he saw Ben die and when Tony was killed and when he watched her get shot. He couldn't move fast enough and suddenly a shot rang out and you crumpled to the ground while the shooter and his men ran off.

"No no no," Peter scrambled forward and dropped to his knees next to you, "No, you're fine, Y/N you're fine."

"It's okay," you said quietly, your eyes not quite focusing on him as you coughed, and Peter felt sick seeing some blood trickle out of your mouth. "It's okay."

"I'm sorry, I can-we can go to the hospital," he insisted, going to put his arms underneath you and pick you up but you winced, weakly shoving his arms away. "Y/N, please, you can't-you can't do this."

"I'm sorry," you mumbled, and Peter felt panic as you shut your eyes.

"No, don't-don't shut your eyes, come on," he freaked out, gripping your arms and shaking you a bit, but you didn't move. "Y/N, don't do this to me, I can't-"

He jolted up and found himself stuck to the ceiling, his blanket falling off of him and back to the bed below. He was in his room, in his pajamas, covered in sweat and his chest feeling tight with anxiety. He never went back to patrol because he didn't wake up from the nap he decided to take.

It was a dream.

His body relaxed a little and he fell back to the bed, trying to focus his on breathing. Nightmares weren't a new thing to him. He'd had them ever since Ben died and even more so since she died, he was used to calming himself down.

But not this time. Something felt different, and he wasn't sure if the reason was because it was his first nightmare about you dying, or the fact that the hair on the back of his arms and neck was still standing up straight, like something might actually be wrong.

He flopped his head over to look at the clock, seeing that it was nearly two in the morning. There was no reason you'd be out this late, much less at a drug deal. That was just ridiculous, he should have realized he was dreaming when it happened.

But it felt so real.

Without hesitating he got back up and rushed to grab his suit, deciding he couldn't wait and see if the anxiety would go away.

-

You bit your lip a little as you stared at the equation in front of you, not exactly sure how to proceed. The subject your teacher was going through this week was difficult and you weren't sure if you were doing it right.

It was nearly two in the morning and you were determined to get it finished before the weekend, so you didn't mind staying awake agonizing over it, even though you were exhausted.

Your phone was a foot away from you, and you almost contemplated grabbing it to text someone in your class for help, or even Peter, despite the late hour. But a loud bang made you jump and drop your pencil, whipping around.

The window shuddered a little as you stared at it wide eyed, seeing Spider-Man perched on the ledge with a hand up on the glass, the eyes of his mask squinted. After a second he reached a hand up and yanked the mask off, showing Peter's bright red face and even worse, tears brimming in his eyes.

You got up without hesitation and went to the window, yanking it open.

"Peter?" You hissed out in confusion as he climbed in, really glad that your roommate had gone home for the night.

He pulled you into a hug, and you could feel his body shaking from how tight he was holding you. You wrapped an arm around his waist and the other went up to his hair, eyebrows knit in confusion as you hugged him back.

"Hey, what - what happened, are you okay? Are you hurt?" There was no panic in your voice, no anger or questions about him being Spider-Man, no shock or surprise. Just concern.

Was he really surprised that you already knew he was Spider-Man?

"You're okay," his voice cracked as he said it, making you a little more confused as he held you closer to him, burying his face in your neck.

"Yeah, I'm-I'm fine," you confirmed, knitting your eyebrows, "Why wouldn't I be?"

You tensed a little when he brought his head up and looked you in the face, like he was looking to see if you were really there.

"I had a dream," he said carefully, like he was almost trying to convince himself that it was a dream. You were looking at him like he was a crazy person but he didn't care, he just held your face in his hands, finally relaxing now that he could see you were okay.

"Okay?" You replied, still sounding concerned. "Um, do you-want to talk about it or..? What's going on?"

Instead of responding he put his forehead to yours, shutting his eyes and trying to make his heart rate go down a little. You were here, you were fine, you were alive - that should be enough for him to calm down.

Peter really should have been given an idiot of the year award.

He wasn't sure if it was because he was so relieved you were okay, or because you looked adorable in your pajamas with messed up hair and tired eyes, or because the moment felt way more intimate to him than it probably actually was. But either way he made yet another stupid decision and closed the gap between your lips.

You weren't as caught of guard this time - for one you were sober and for another you saw him look at your lips and had an idea of what he was about to do next. But you didn't bother stopping him, even though you probably should have.

This was a lot different from the first kiss. You weren't drunk so it wasn't as messy but it was a little more desperate, and you could feel it in how tight he gripped you to him, like he was trying to get as close as possible.

It was almost like you were letting yourself forget every shitty thing he had done while your lips moved together, noses bumping a few times and one of his hands moving to your hair to bring you closer. But you were sober this time, and even though it felt nice, you knew that it wasn't right.

With a little hesitation, you put your hands on his shoulders and held him there while you moved back, not letting him follow your lips.

The only sound was both of you trying to catch your breath, Peter's hands still holding your face like he was afraid to let go while yours gripped his shoulders, though you weren't sure if it was to hold him back or because you just wanted to be touching him in some way.

"I'm sorry," he breathed out, and you tried not to roll your eyes.

"I'm so confused," you said a little breathlessly, trying to resist the urge to lean into him again. Instead you stepped out his grip, not looking at the rejected look on his face as he let his hands fall to his sides.

"I'm sorry," he repeated, shutting his eyes and sighing through his nose. "I shouldn't have done that again, I just-"

"Yeah, you shouldn't have," you agreed a little harshly, trying to ignore the stinging in your eyes as you sat on your bed. "You can't just treat me like you have been and then show up saying you had some-some dream and then kiss me out of nowhere again and not explain anything."

"I'm scared, Y/N," his voice sounded so hurt, it made your anger fade a little at the pain in his voice. "I'm scared that as soon as I let you in, you'll leave."

"Peter..." your voice trailed off, his expression pained, "I didn't plan on leaving."

"Maybe not intentionally," his eyes were tinged red when he met your gaze, "I can't lose you like I lost her. I can't do it again."

You had no idea who he was talking about, but you always had a feeling Peter was hiding something from you, more like someone. The girl from the pictures on his wall.

With a sigh you patted the spot next to you and he sat down quickly, not leaving much space between you. You let him put his head on your shoulder and you brought a hand up to his hair, trying to calm him down a little. It seemed like he was on the verge of breaking down before he even came in your room, and you needed him to calm down if he was going to explain anything.

"You need to start being honest with me, Pete," you said softly, running your fingers through his hair and noticing how he closed his eyes and relaxed at your touch. "I want to know what's causing this or I can't let you drag me around. It's not fair to either of us."

It went silent for a moment while he gathered his thoughts, focusing on the feeling of your hands in his hair comforting him. He didn't deserve you and he knew that, but opening up was hard, even if it was to someone he knew would accept him.

"How long have you known I was Spider-Man?" He asked after a second, and you were a little annoyed that he ignored what you just said, but you decided to go along with it.

"Since you saved me that day I was being stupid," you moved your fingers over the little spider emblem on his chest, pretending you didn't notice him shudder a little at your touch. "You have a pretty distinguishable voice, Parker."

His lips lifted a little at that, "You really knew that whole time and didn't say anything?"

"I can keep my mouth shut sometimes," you said in a defensive tone while he shook his head, "And honestly I was worried it would scare you off if you knew that I knew. It didn't really matter in the end though, did it?"

He frowned at that, his hand moving up and catching yours, holding it against him. "I don't want to scare you off, either. Which is why I've been so closed off."

"You can trust me, Peter," you promised, squeezing his hand.

"I know I can," he chuckled a little, but his smile dropped quickly. "I'm just scared."

"Tell me why, then."

He stared at you for a moment, taking in your messy bun and tired eyes and slightly chapped lips. Lips that he had kissed when he probably shouldn't have, or at least should have asked before doing, but he couldn't change that now. But he could change his problem of keeping things under a tight lid, and just open up for once.

Your thumb brushed over the back of his hand and he relaxed, knowing that he needed to talk about it. For both of your sakes.

"My parents died when I was really young, I don't-I don't really remember them much," he licked his lips, trying to ignore the feeling of you watching him while he spoke. "May and my uncle Ben raised me, but about a week after I got these powers, Ben was killed. And for a really long time I blamed myself for it, I still kind of do, but...it had gotten easier.

"And then it was better for a while, I had Tony and he was a great mentor, but then..." Peter clenched his jaw a little, and you took his hand in yours to encourage him to go on. "I only got through it because of May and...and her."

"Her?" You asked softly, drawing circles on the back of his hand to relax him a little.

"I never felt that way about anyone," he said quietly, his eyes squeezing shut, "I never thought losing someone could hurt more but I was right there and she died right in front of me and I didn't do anything-"

"Hey," you cut him off, knowing him rambling on was just going to make it worse, "Peter."

"I let it happen-"

"It wasn't your fault," you said firmly, not having any idea of the situation but still knowing it was true. He started shaking his head but you put your hands on his face, cupping his cheeks and making him look at you. "Listen to me. It wasn't your fault."

"You don't know-"

"I know you, Peter Parker," you ran your thumb over his cheeks, catching some of the tears starting to fall from his eyes. "I know you and I know it wasn't your fault."

He shut his eyes again and leaned forward, his head on your shoulder as he choked out a sob, making your heart ache. You hugged him to you, finally starting to understand why he did all of that. This was the first time he ever really opened up to you and now you were getting why it took so long.

"It's okay," you whispered, pressing a kiss to his hair while his arms snaked around your waist and held you tighter. "Peter, it's okay."

"I never felt that way about anyone," he repeated in a teary voice, his breath warm against your neck. "Not until I met you."

Him admitting how he felt about you made your heart skip a beat, but the sniffling sound he was making made it clear he was still hurting and you didn't think this was the right time for that conversation.

"We don't have to talk about that right now," you ran your fingers through his hair, biting your lip.

"We should," he replied, pulling back so he could look you in the eyes. This time he put his hand on your cheek, holding you as gently as he had that night when he was wasted. "It was so hard to do that to you and I shouldn't have. I should have given you an explanation instead of running like a coward. And I should not have kissed you when I was drunk or even just now when you still didn't know everything and...I'm sorry, I'm just so sorry."

"Peter, I know you know how I feel about you," you admitted, his eyes tightening a bit at your words, "I'm sorry that you went through losing people that close to you, and I understand why you would be scared to be close with someone again. You're right, you shouldn't have done that to me, not like that. But you were scared and I understand that, so...I forgive you, okay?"

"Just like that?" He asked quietly.

"You might need to work for it a little," you bit your lip to keep from smiling, and the look on his face told you he got that you were teasing.

"I can do that," he promised, bringing his forehead to yours. "Is it alright if I kiss you?"

"Now you ask?" You teased again, but he didn't reply this time, instead bringing his lips to yours for the third time.

It was a lot softer than the last two times. His hand had travelled to hold your waist and the other went to the back of your neck, snaking up toward your hair. And you held his face in your hands, trying not to smile as he moved his lips against yours.

You pulled away only to push him on his back, making him laugh while you went over him and muffled his chuckles with another kiss. He brought both hands to your waist and pulled you closer against him, humming against your mouth while you ran your fingers through his hair, making it even messier than usual from the mask.

"Are these Avengers themed bedsheets?" Peter mumbled against your lips, making you sigh and pull back.

"Mood killer," you accused, hands on his chest while you caught your breath. He just grinned and moved his hands from your waist to grab yours, holding one against his chest before bringing the other to his lips, kissing your knuckles.

You knew deep down that this boy was a romantic.

"That's how I thought kissing you the first time would have been like, not when I was drunk and fucked up," he breathed out, making you smile a little. "I'm sorry for messing it up."

"You didn't mess anything up," you pushed his hair back, taking in his slightly happier expression. "And you've thought about kissing me before?"

The blush rising across his cheeks made your little jab worth it, and he just rolled his eyes and brought his lips to yours again, fighting the urge to smile.

"Maybe a couple times."

[crowdedimagines]

Familiar Love - Harry Styles

harry and y/n have a hard time staying out of each other’s arms, not that there’s a place they’d rather be Famous!Y/n

“Well well well.” Harry grins, opening his door wider to his home for me. 

“Why are you acting all surprised? You invited me here.” I get on my toes to steal a fast peck from him as I walk by. I walk into the living room I have grown very familiar with over the years. Harry’s London home never changes, his one taste of consistency.  

“Of course I did, we’re both in London at the same time.” 

“I know.” I roll my eyes, backing up the stairs to his room. He matches my steps evenly, pacing us like predator and prey. I slide my jacket off my shoulder, ditching it for the floor. His eyes never leave mine. If I didn’t know this house so well, I would be on my ass by now. 

“It’s been a while since this has worked out.” He presses a stolen kiss to my cheek, then another and another, “I’ve missed you.” 

“Missed me or a muse?” I bite down lightly on his earlobe, he backs me into his bedroom finally. 

“Always miss you.” 

“That’s right, you are pretty obsessed with me.” I smirk. 

“M’not obsessed with you.” He defends, finally pulling his face away from my neck. 

“Well your discography would beg to differ.” 

“Shh.” He works on the spot he knows would normally occupy my mind enough that I couldn’t banter. The spot just below my ear where my neck and jaw meet. 

“Temporary Fix, Perfect, Change Your Ticket-”

“Alright alright” Harry rolls his eyes, dimples showing up on his cheeks while he fights a smile.

“-and that’s not even counting your solo career” I tease, letting him back me onto his bed. “Only Angel, She-” 

“You’re such an ass sometimes.” He shakes his head, as if in disbelief, but his smile only grows wider. 

“What?” I scoff feigning shock, “You love my ass.” He presses a kiss to my collarbone. 

“Yes, I do. Now shut up so I can love on you for the first time in eight months.” 

-     -     -  

Harry and I were the worst and best things to ever happen to each other. We met when we were too young. My career had just started, I had a singular album to my name and was lucky to open for any band that was on a tour. Harry was a couple years into One Direction by the time we met. 

It was on a red carpet, thankfully not my first, but my first time being on the carpet for an award show that I actually had a nomination for. This was huge for me. My album had done well, but never expected a recognition like this. 

I met Niall before I met Harry. I had bumped into him walking in and he complimented my music, even claiming one of his mates ‘couldn’t get enough of it’. When he said that I wasn’t expecting him to walk me over to meet the rest of the band. Harry had been the ‘mate’ Niall had been referring to. 

I lost that night, to Ariana Grande, who in my own opinion deserved it more than me. That night didn’t feel like a loss though, because I got Harry out of it. We quickly became friends, texting, calling, facetiming any time we got the opportunity. One Direction was touring on a constant cycle, and I had just finished mine. I was in the process of writing my sophomore album, Harry flew me out and I ended up staying for the rest of the tour. 

It wasn’t a surprise to anyone that we started dating, the calls and giddy smiles were enough already to clue in everyone around us. I was able to get a glimpse at the world he lived in with his stardom, and soak in every second he wasn’t on stage. It didn’t take long for fans and the public to catch on. A few too many paparazzi pictures at each concert venue to avoid. 

Both of our managements allowed us to openly date, officially coming out to everyone with PDA and everything. It was amazing. I flew back home to Los Angeles to record my second album and before I could blink I was touring it. 

Things got hard for Harry and I at that point, we could never manage to be in the same city, or get time off to visit the other. My name was quickly becoming a household one, and One Direction had yet to ever even stall in popularity. 

It broke us both completely that after three happy years together, we had to call it quits. Neither of us were ready to give up our lives and it was no longer working to never see each other. We both needed to feel loved, and on opposite ends of the planet it wasn’t enough anymore. It was only a few months after our split that One Direction went on hiatus. 

Harry and I remained close. Some would say too close. It started with just being friendly whenever we saw each other at events or things with mutual events. It took one slip up that sent us back into each other’s arms. It was a New Year's party, we agreed to be with each other, because we didn’t have anyone else to kiss at midnight. 

Once you get a taste for someone you never stopped loving, it gets pretty hard to stop. So that’s how it all began. Harry and I decided to see each other, date, love, fuck, anytime we both happened to be in the same city. It didn’t happen as often as you would think. We both still had home across the world, and varying tour schedules. We both had on and off again partners, that then the deal would be off, but neither of our partners were ever in the picture for very long. For years it went on like this. It was heartbreak all over again though, once we knew that someone had to leave. 

-     -     -

“Well, that was fun! It’s been a while, Styles.” I let out a sigh to try and gain back my breath. We practically just ran a marathon. Maybe two. He does the same, a grin plastered to his face. 

“Too long.” He tilts his head to press a kiss to my bare shoulder. 

“Well I do believe a plane works two ways.” I turn on my side to face him, my head resting in my palm. 

“Mmm, I’ve been stuck in the studio. I’ve been working on new stuff.” 

“Ooh, a new album perhaps?” 

“Yeah, it’s been a whole process trying to get all my thoughts out and sorted.” He clears his throat. 

“So why not go to Jamaica like you did for your first? A new environment that you can just throw yourself into it.” I question. 

“I don’t know, it doesn’t feel like that for me. I did that because it was the first time I was doing music without One Direction. This time it’s a little more on me and how I feel.” 

We catch up for nearly an hour before we both feel gross from our previous activity and decide to take a shower. Together obviously. 

“Mum and Gem are coming over for brunch tomorrow.” He states. 

“Hmm?” I turn away from the shower head to face him again. 

“I think they’re going to be here close to 10:00.” 

“Do you want me to leave?”

“No!” He places a hand on my hip, trapping me between him and the cool tile on the walls. “Never.” 

“So what do you want?” I ask, tilting my head up to fully look at him. To read every expression that crosses his face as the water pours over both of us. 

“I want you to stay. Have brunch with us.” 

“Are you sure?” I ask, pressing a kiss to his peck. 

“Yeah, if you can.”

“My fitting isn’t until 2:00 so that should give me plenty of time.” I smile, “Are you sure they aren’t going to think it’s weird that I’m there?” 

“They won’t think it’s weird. They’ll both be thrilled to see you. I swear everytime I pick up the phone they’re asking me how you’re doing.” 

“That’s funny considering how often that Gemma texts me.” I smile. 

“So you’ll stay for brunch?” 

“Mhm.” I pull him down to my height for a kiss. 

-     -     - 

“Well if it isn’t the one that got away.” Anne teases as she pulls me in for a tight hug. 

“Fuck-” Harry sighs, letting out air as if he took an actual physical hit. 

“Hi, Anne.” I laugh. 

“You just get more and more beautiful every-time I see you.” She holds my face in her hands and she studies me closely. Over the years Anne and I have only grown to be more close, even though I am no longer dating her son she still treats me as family which I can’t help but love her for. 

“Let me give her a hug!” Gemma pushes her way in and pulls me in tight against her chest. 

“Gem!” I grin. 

Harry and Anne walk into the kitchen together with Gemma and I following, arm in arm. I remember this from years ago. The Styles family would like to make brunches together every couple of weeks when they could. 

Obviously if Harry was touring or over in the States they couldn’t, but when they could they make the most of it. Everything is made from scratch, together. Nothing is decided until everyone gets there that morning. 

“How do we feel about waffles?” Gemma asks. 

“And eggs.” Harry adds. 

“And bacon.” Anne adds. 

Everyone turns to me waiting for my request. 

“And fresh fruit.” I smile. 

We all get to work and quickly become a well oiled machine. Them it’s not too surprising due to them doing this over the years, but I have to say I am able to jump in with ease. 

I cut up various fruits arranging them as beautifully as I can. A vibrant display of colors on the platter. 

“Excuse me, love.” He presses a kiss to my temple, a steadying hand at my waist as he reaches for a knife from the island. 

I prepare everyone’s drinks around the table as well considering my task went the quickest. Shortly, everyone joins me and we dig in. Everything tastes immaculate. 

We dive into conversation, the table never getting quiet for a second. Something I love so much about this family. There’s always something to be said.

“Well, I actually should be going it’s one o clock now, and I still need to drive to the other side of town.” I pick up my plate from the table. We’ve all been done eating for a while now, but the conversation kept us at the table. 

“Where are you off to?” Anne asks. 

“She’s got a fitting with Gucci.” Harry grins. 

“Wipe that smug little grin off your face.” I smack his shoulder lightly. 

“Gucci?” Gemma grins even wider than Harry did. 

“I am going to be the new face to the brand.” I smile, feeling pink raise up on my cheeks.

“For the whole company?” Gemma cheers. 

I simply nod as I grab a few other plates off of the table as I go. 

“Can I come with you?” Gemma asks, the two Styles siblings following my into the kitchen. 

“Why didn’t you act like this when I modeled for Gucci?” Harry asks, his jealous side coming out.

“Harry, you got a cologne, but she’s getting the whole company!” She huffs, “Do you know what cool clothes she’s going to be trying one?”

“I’m not getting the company!” I roll my eyes, putting the dishes in the wash. 

“You didn’t answer the question.” Gemma smirks. 

“Yes, Gem.” I laugh, “As long as you can be out the door in five minutes.” 

Gemma leaves the kitchen and goes back to tell Anne, leaving Harry and I alone. 

“You’re coming back here after, right?” He asks, trapping me against the counter. 

“Yeah, of course. I’ll actually be in London for almost the entire campaign. You’re going to be sick of me soon.” I smirk. 

“Never.” 

-    -    -

“I am OBSESSED with that yellow jacket you had on!” Gemma sighs dreamily as we enter Harry’s flat several hours later. “It’s to die for!”

“Well, I can see if I can get it for you after the shoot.”

We make our way to the living room where Harry is settled in on the couch with a book. 

“An angel.” She turns to her brother, “Did you know this one is an angel?” 

“You give me too much credit.” I laugh. 

“Thanks for the reminder, Gem.” Harry chuckles. 

“Okay, now I will get out of your hair. I’ve already stolen all afternoon with you. Hopefully see you soon!” She pulls me in for a hug, “Love you.” I let Harry walk her to the door to say their goodbyes. 

Harry comes back after a few minutes and pulls me down in a hug on the couch. He lets out a deep sigh into my neck, pulling my head in even closer. 

“You okay, babe?” I ask, taking note of his obvious mood. 

“Mmm, I was just thinking while you were out.”

“And what were you thinking?” I pull back so I can get a good look at his face. It’s always been an easy way to see how he’s feeling. 

“I was just thinking that we’re both in such a better place than we were all those years ago. I don’t tour every year anymore, and I’m signed with good management that actually lets me make my own decisions.”

“What are you saying?” I ask, wrapping my arms around his neck and studying his face closely. 

“I’m saying that you only tour ever other year, at max. I do the same now. Why can’t we make this work for real again? We’re both more established now and have the right to chose when and where we do things. I know, we make time for each other when we’re in the same city, but there’s nothing saying we can’t be in the same city. I could live in Los Angeles full time. I could live with you. Or we could both go to New York. I don’t care, as long as we can be together.” 

“Harry, you’re sure about this? We haven’t truly been together in a long time. I love spending my time with you, truly, but I don’t want you to uproot your life just for me.” I clarify. He’s saying what I’ve wanted to hear for years, but I just want to make sure we’ve thought things through before I give either of us false hope. 

“It wouldn’t just be for you, it would be for us. I love you so much, I feel like I’m wasting time. It seems like a waste to know exactly who your soulmate is, and not do everything in your power to make it work.” 

“I love you, too.” I press a fast and passionate kiss to his lips, “Although, I do have one thing that I think we should change.”

“Anything.” He answers, his eyes all gooey and lovey making me break out in a grin. I couldn’t keep a straight face over how I’m feeling if it tried. 

“Let me move here.”

“What?” He asks shocked.

“You love London and being close to your family more than anything, I could never ask you to change that.” 

“But-”

“And I love being close to them too. If today proves anything, you are my family.”

“Let me make the move” I grin. 

“Happily.” Harry’s dimples are on full display. 

“Hey, isn’t that another song you wrote about me?” I tease.

“Oh, shut up.” He rolls his eyes, pushing me back against the couch. 

plz give me some feedback! i thought this was so cute 

[arvinsescape]

Haz and Harry writes two love letters while they are drunk, one for Tom, and one for Y/n, but they made it seem like they wrote it for each other.

Plot twist, Tom and Y/n are dating in secret.

Love letters.

A/N: So I loved this idea!! Thank you so much for sending it in!! I hope you enjoy and I hope it's what you're looking for!! 💕

Haz and Harry were so drunk as they sat on the couch together, everyone else had retired to bed. The alcohol was buzzing through their systems as they talked, hushing their voices and giggling every now and again.

"No, they have to have fucked though right?" Haz asked as he burst into a fit of giggles.

"Gross man, I don't wanna think about my brother and one of our best friends sleeping with each other." Harry groaned as he ran his hand down his face.

"They are so close though." Haz said and Harry laughed.

"Yeah they are." He agreed. "Wait though, they could just be super close, nothing has to be going on." Harry shrugged.

"Nah," Haz burst into yet another fit of giggles. "They are pining over each other." He added before an idea popped into his head. "Harry, that's it!" He suddenly said, voice a little louder. "We do something, make them realise they are made for each other." He said as he sat upright.

"Like what?" Harry asked, brows furrowed but thoroughly on board.

"We should write them love letters. I'll write Y/N's, you write Tom's!" He said almost excitedly.

"So I write a letter to Tom, pretending to be Y/N? A love letter?" He clarified as Haz jumped up from the couch, quietly disappearing into Tom's office.

"Here." He said handing Harry a piece of paper and a pen. "When you're done, put it in his gym bag, I'll put Y/N's in her bag." He said as he pointed towards your handbag that was by the front door.

"Hang on, why do I get the risky one? Tom's gym bag is in his room." Harry exclaimed.

"Well you're his brother, it'd be fine, besides he sleeps through anything."

"Fine." Harry responded as the two of them got to work.

**

Tom was getting changed after his shower at the gym when he found the letter, addressed to him. He furrowed his brows as he hastily opened it, reading the contents.

Tom,

I want to start off by telling you that I find you really attractive, one of the best looking guys I know. You make me laugh, more than anyone else. You know how to make me feel better when I'm having a bad day.

I love the way you make me tea when I'm sad. Even if you can't make a cup of tea for shit. I love the way you always know what to do to make me feel better, whether that be a hug or just taking me out for the day, it's like you always know what I need and I love that about you.

I love how you always call me and facetime me when you go away to film, how it always seems to be that you're thinking about me. How you always text me emoji's at random times of the day if you have nothing else to say, just so I know you're thinking of me.

I love how much you look after me, even though I'm not yours to look after. You always make me feel like the most beautiful girl on the planet just by looking at me. You make me feel safe when we're out together, always keeping a close eye on me.

I'm too scared to do this in person so I thought I'd write it in a letter. I think I'm in love with you, I don't want to ruin our friendship by saying it to your face. If you don't feel the same way, please, just rip this letter up and never mention it.

All my love,

Y/N.

Tom smiled as he read the letter, stuffing it back into his gym bag as he shook his head with a laugh.

You'd found yours earlier on in the morning, you'd lost something and were rummaging through your bag when you found it, eyes furrowed as you pulled the letter from the envelope addressed to you.

Y/N,

Where do I start? I suppose I should start by telling you how perfect you are. You really really are, everything about you is perfect and I suppose that's the purpose of this letter. I want you to know how incredible you are to me.

I love the way you smile, it's contagious, makes me smile just to see your pretty one grace your lips. I love how you smile even when you're not happy, how you never try and bring the mood down but I want you to know I see through it. I know when you're not okay and it makes me sad.

I hate when you're not okay, I just want to cuddle you, make everything go away for you. I'd take all of the weight off your shoulders, always and carry it myself. Shit, darling, I think I'd do anything for you.

I love how pretty your eyes are, I get lost in them sometimes. Sometimes I just want to kiss you but I can't because we're just friends. I want to be more, I've always wanted to be more.

I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm in love with you, I want to tell you in person but I always get too afraid because I always think you can do better than me, you deserve the world and I wish I could be the one to make you happy for the rest of your life.

Love you so much darling,

Tom.

You laughed as you read the letter, studying it carefully as you placed it on your bed. Tom came home from the gym and was thankful he didn't see anyone as he made his way upstairs and hastily into your room, shutting the door as he turned to look at you. You had an amused glint in your eyes.

"You were busy last night." You mused as you held the letter up in his direction.

"So were you." He grinned back as he held his own letter up. "Although I appreciate the sentiment, a few things aren't right in here."

"No? Strange that. This letter doesn't quite seem right."

"No?"

"No, darling was a nickname from a while ago." You laughed.

"Yeah, you're usually much more eloquent. Probably drunken rambling this." He mused back. "Do you think we should tell them?"

"What? That their penmanship needs work?" You laughed as you made your way towards him, arms looping round his neck as his found your waist, pulling you in for a kiss.

**

Harry and Haz both looked like shit when they came downstairs. Harry eyeing the letter's carefully as he sat down, he looked at his brother who looked nothing but amused.

"Good night last night?" Tom asked as you sat next to him on the couch, Tom wrapping an arm around your shoulders and bringing you in closer.

"You were there." Harry said as he gulped down the water Tuwaine had brought in for the hungover lads.

"No, I recall you staying up later than we did." Tom laughed and Haz groaned.

"Tom, keep your voice down."

"Sorry, I'll try and be quieter. I mean, I just hate when you're not okay, I just want to cuddle you." Tom teased as Haz furrowed his brows.

"What the hell are you going on about?"

"You don't remember last night?" Tom asked and Haz shook his head. "You left Y/N a lovely letter, made her morning. Although, I probably should have mentioned that I have a new nickname for her, I haven't called her darling for a while, she's been upgraded to Princess."

"Yeah and Harry?" You mused as the curly haired boy looked at you. "Tom always signs my name off in this cute little way. I also very much enjoy his brews, you outed yourself there mate." You laughed.

"What are you two going on about?" Harry grumbled.

"Maybe those will jog your memories." Tom laughed as the boys picked them up reading through them.

"Who's idea was this?" Harry said, brows furrowed. "This looks nothing like Y/N's writing, it's obviously mine."

"Well I wouldn't have come up with something so ridiculous." Haz said, tossing the letter back on the coffee table.

"If you want pointers for next time, I'll happily lend you the letter I actually sent Y/N a couple of months ago." Tom shrugged and the boys narrowed their eyes at the two of you.

"Wait a second, are you two?" Harry cut himself off.

"Yeah, I told her months ago I was in love with her. Nice try though boys, I appreciate the sentiment." Tom grinned as he leant down to capture your lips in his. "Besides, when you went to put that letter in my gym bag did you wonder at all why I wasn't in bed?" Tom teased.

"No! I don't even remember doing it."

"Harry, on what planet would you think that was ever going to work?"

"Me? This has your drunken stupidity written all over it." Harry fired back, completely lost in their own argument as you and Tom were lost in each other.

[whatisthiswritingthing]

I’m Ready - Emily Sonnett x Reader

Prompt: Where R is a single foster parent and it got me thinking.

R has not had a placement for awhile (but still has her foster license) and Sonnett planed the date to ask R to move in with her but when she ask R, R was shocked and telling Sonnett that she doesn’t think it will be a good idea because of her being a foster parent and could get a call at any given time and Sonnett telling R that she does not care and would like to help her out. Then R gets the call for a placement and has to leave the date but Sonnett get up with her and basically like I am going with you and you can’t stop me. When they get to the hospital R sees how gentle and soft Sonnett is with the baby and tells her that yes they will move in her.

Where the R is a single foster parent ( been for a while before they started to date) and while Sonnett and R is on a date and R gets a call about a foster placement (a 3 month old baby) and feels bad for leaving the date but Sonnett insist on coming her and helping her out. But when she founds out that it’s a baby sonnett gets so nervous and scared.

Note, couple prompt rolled into one here. 

“She didn’t say anything when you asked?” Kelley asked from the couch, watching Sonnett pace back and forth through the living room, stopping occasionally to randomly adjust everything that was already perfectly in place.

“I didn’t even get a chance!” the blonde turned around quickly, throwing her hands up.

“What do you mean?” the defender tilted her head to the side, Emily flopping her hands back to her sides and beginning to move throughout the room, “slow down and explain what happened.”

Emily sighed, moving to perch on the edge of arm of the couch. Biting the edge of her thumb, she fidgeted with the hem of her shirt, “I don’t know,” she shrugged defeated, “we had plans last night, she seemed like she was really looking forward to it. I picked her up, she looked gorgeous,” a small smile on her face, dropping as she continued, “the night was great, dinner was romantic, we were every gross romantic cliché. Then on our walk, I got nervous, and I couldn’t get the words out.”

Kelley moved to the blonde, rubbing a soothing hand up and down her back, encouraging her to continue, tugging the thumb away from her teeth, squeezing her hand.

“And she was so sweet about it, said I could talk to her about anything, she had pulled me to the side of the path, held both my hands and just gave me the softest smile,” she paused, smiling softly while she thought about the night before, “then I don’t know what happened. I finally got the nerve to start asking and she got all weird and said she needed to go and bolted.”

Having sat long enough, the defender got up and began pacing the room again. Kelley furrowed her brow, confused at how quickly Y/N had changed on the date the night before. Y/N was always so patient with the blonde, giving her the opportunity to explain herself, reassuring her when she was anxious about how she worded things.

“Have you guys talked since?”

Sonnett shook her head sadly, “I tried to call her last night, but she didn’t answer and I sent a couple texts, nothing there either.”

Kelley got up and pulled the blonde into a hug, “I’m sorry Em.”

Emily struggled in the hold for a second before collapsing into it and allowing the hug, “maybe this means she isn’t interested in long term,” she mumbled into the brunette’s neck.

“You guys have been together for two years, she requested a trade to Washington just to be with you,” Kelley squeezed her, “do you really think she isn’t serious about this?”

She shrugged meekly in the hug.

“See if she says anything at practice this afternoon. Don’t overthink yourself too far before you know what to overthink.”

Sonnett just shrugged again, tugging herself away, fumbling around the apartment, picking up her equipment, “let’s get to training then.”

Practice was about to start, but Y/N had yet to show up.

“Sonnett, where’s Y/L/N?” Burke called, looking around the field.

“I’m not her keeper,” the blonde grunted out, before her eyes went wide, “sorry coach, I’m not sure where she is today.”

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry!” Y/N called as she rushed out to the field, one cleat on, hoping on one foot while she struggled to pull the other on while still moving, shin guards tucked under arms, “It will never happen again, I’m so sorry Coach.”

Burke gave her a hard look, motioning for everyone to focus up and began his pre-practice talk. Y/N crashed down hard, having tripped over her untied cleat, “fuck,” she tugged the other cleat on.

Sonnett watched on as Y/N spoke with Burke after the meeting off to the side. Burke nodded along, smiling as Y/N spoke, giving her a pat on the back as the soccer player jogged away.

The rest of practice Y/N seemed distracted, constantly glancing over to the trainers on the sideline.

“You good?” Emily stood next to her at a water break, concerned for how different her girlfriend seemed during practice.

She never got a response as one of the trainers called Y/N’s name, motioning to the cell phone in her hand, and she took off. The blonde watched as Y/N answered the phone, walking away and beginning to pace the sideline, plugging a finger in her ear when the whistle blew.

“What’s that all about?” Kelley asked the blonde.

“I don’t know,” Sonnett tracked her girlfriend, noting how frustrated she was getting on the call.

Practice resumed, Y/N joining again at some point, more distracted than before.

“We’ve got to talk,” Kelley shoved the soccer player down the hall after practice, pushing her away from the change room.

“Kel, I don’t have time for this,” Y/N pulled her arm out of Kelley’s grasp, working to make her way back towards the change room.

“No, you have time,” Kelley tightened her hold, keeping Y/N in place.

Y/N released a sigh, tilting her chin to the brunette, waiting for her to continue.

“Do you love Emily, or are you just with her for the fun of it?” she began harshly.

“Fuck you Kelley,” Y/N ripped her arm out, glaring at her, “do you actually have something to say, or would you like to just belittle my relationship?”

“She was going to ask you to move in with her,” Kelley softened.

The glare immediately left Y/N’s face, “oh.”

“Yeah, oh,” now the brunette glared at her, not saying anything and just watching Y/N, waiting for her to say something else, “fix this,” Kelley pointed firmly at her before walking away.

Y/N slowly walked back to the change room, reading the new email on her phone as she went, plopping into her locker and running a hand over her face.

Emily came and sat next to her, “I saw Kelley kidnapped you,” she tried to joke.

Y/N sighed, rolling her head to look at the blonde, giving her a sad smile, “something like that. I’m sorry about last night Emily.”

“It’s alright Y/N, can you tell me what happened?”

Y/N looked away, letting out a slow controlled breath, “I need to tell you something,” she started nervously.

“Can we not do this here?” Emily whispered, nervously looking around the change room, seeing the few lingering players.

“Shit, not that Em,” Y/N quickly shook her head, “but, uhh, you’re definitely right, not here.”

The pair both nervously gathered their things, awkwardly walking next to each other out of the stadium. The awkwardness continued as they walked into Emily’s apartment, neither of them knowing how to start or what to say.

“We can’t live together,” Y/N finally cut the awkward silence.

Emily clenched her jaw and nodded her head dejectedly.

“God Emily, I’m crazy about you, for you. But I think we are better living apart, at least for a little bit,” Y/N didn’t know how to explain how much she loved Emily but why it wouldn’t be a good idea for them to live together, how unfair it be to the blonde if they lived together, “I love you.”

Now Emily scoffed at hearing that, rolling her eyes and looking to the ceiling, “what, you love me but you’re just not in love with me? It’s not you it’s me? What cliché line are you going to drop before you break up with me?”

“No, I don’t want to break up with you,” Y/N recoiled, shaking her head, not expecting the aggressiveness in the blonde’s tone.

“Then, what the fuck is going on? I was ready to ask you to move in yesterday and now you’re being all weird and saying it’s a bad idea, and saying you don’t want to break up, but very much acting how someone would before they break up.”

Emily let all her frustration out, hands firmly on her hips as she started hard at her girlfriend.

Y/N nodded along while the blonde ranted.

“There was a screw up, or not really a screw up, but my name was passed along without me knowing,” Y/N sighed, sitting hesitantly on the edge of the couch cushion, “I was a foster parent back in in Seattle, and I guess they need them here, and the social worker from there moved here and uhh added me to the list.”

“So?” the blondes anger not going anywhere, not understanding why this meant they couldn’t live together.

“They want to give me a kid, uhh a baby actually,” Y/N looked down, rubbing her hand on the back if her neck.

Emily dropped her hands, eyes shooting wide, not expecting that answer.

“I said maybe, only if they can’t find anyone else and only short term. So, I might not be getting one, but uhh, I didn’t want you to feel trapped if I did get one.”

Sonnett opened and closed her mouth, she didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know if she was ready for a baby, but she knew she was ready for Y/N, so she was probably ready to try.

Y/N’s phone began to ring on the coffee table, she glanced to the phone and to Emily, before picking up the phone when she saw the expression on the blondes face. Not able to interpret it, she picked up the phone and began to walk into the hall.

Emily nervously moved around the apartment while she waited for Y/N to come back inside. Yesterday she was going to ask Y/N to move in with her, and now she’s considering if she is ready to help take care of a kid with her. They had been together for a while now, Y/N uprooted her whole life to be near Emily, she wasn’t forcing her to help either, hadn’t asked her at all.

Did that mean Y/N didn’t think Emily was serious about them? That she didn’t think Emily could handle a baby? That she didn’t see a future with them? A future baby of their own?

She was brought out of her thoughts when Y/N slowly walked back inside, gently closing the door behind her. Y/N tapped the edge of her phone against her palm, refusing to look up.

“I have to go,” she started softly, “I’m sorry I made you think I wanted to break up, I love you, Emily.” She took a couple steps forward, kissing Emily on the cheek, nodding to herself and making her way back to the door.

“Wait!” Emily rushed forward, stopping Y/N before she could leave, “I want to come.”

“Emily,” Y/N smiled sadly at the blonde, “I’m on my way to pick up a baby right now.”

“I know, I want to come.”

Y/N watched her, determining if she was serious. Nodding, she smiled and reached out to hold the blondes hand and lead her out.

Sonnett listened as Y/N spoke to the social worker, trying to take in all the new information. That the baby had been delivered the night before, that the mom wasn’t prepared for a baby and dad wasn’t in the picture at all, no other family available to take care of the baby.

She could feel her palms sweat the more they spoke, this baby was already in a position where no one wanted it, she wasn’t prepared to be another disappointment in the small humans short life.

“You don’t have to stay Em,” Y/N leaned over and whispered after the social worker walked away, “you didn’t sign up for this, I know it’s a lot.”

“No, I’m here,” she rubbed her palms on her pants, “I’m ready,” she straightened up, giving Y/N a determined smile, “did you do this lots in Seattle?”

“This will be my second baby, but I had a few toddlers, couple children. This will be my eighth all together though,” Y/N kept her eyes down the hallway, waiting for the social worker to come back with the baby.

“How did you do it with travelling for both teams?”

“I agreed for short term ones only, and I had a few really good friends that were able to watch them during practice or the odd away game. Luckily, we always get all our schedules far enough in advance I can plan pretty far ahead,” Y/N explained, “this one is a little unexpected though, so I’ll figure it out.”

“We’ll figure it out,” Emily corrected.

“What?” Y/N looked next to her, pausing the mental planning she was doing, organizing everything she would need to get done.

“We’ll figure it out, together,” she clarified again, “I’m in this with you Y/N.”

“Really Emily, you don’t need to help, but I guess, just uhh, now you know.”

Sonnett didn’t say anything as the social worker rounder the corner with a small baby wrapped in a blanket. Y/N stepping away to meet her halfway, gently taking the baby into her arms, rocking it back and forth.

Emily couldn’t help the smile on her face, the gentle smile on Y/N’s face as she stared down at the baby pulling one of her own. She walked up behind Y/N, sliding an arm around her waist, Y/N turned and smiled at her.

“Want to hold her?” Y/N turned slightly, offering her the baby.

Sonnett nodded nervously, wiping her hands before taking the baby into her arms. Y/N mimicked Emily and wrapped an arm around her waist.

“I’m really glad you agreed to this Y/N,” the social worker cut in, interrupting their little bubble.

Y/N smiled in return, giving her a nod, looking back to Emily holding the baby.

“Do you want me to take a picture? You guys are adorable,” the social worker reached a handout for Y/N’s phone. Taking the picture, she handed the phone back, “everything is in order, I’ll check in in a couple days. You look really happy Y/N,” she patted Y/N on the arm as she walked away.

“Ready to go home?” Y/N asked, taking the baby back from Emily, sliding a hand down to hold the blondes and guide her out of the hospital.

“I’m ready,” Emily kissed Y/N on the cheek before placing a delicate one on the babies forehead.

[syndxlla]

Part ten of the More To Love Series

Summary: The ball is tomorrow night and preparations are in full swing in the Mandalorian Palace. In desperate need of a break from all of the Masquerade planning, you get away from the palace for a few hours. This gives you a chance to reflect on your relationship with the Knight, learn more about his past, and grow closer with Koska.

Word Count: 10.9k, NO ‘Y/N’

Warnings: SMUT (handjob, grinding, this is like actually sort of gross if you over think it so just don’t over think it thanks <3), THIS IS EXPLICIT, 18+ CONTENT, READ AT YOUR OWN RISK. Swearing. Mentions of: blood, scars, fighting, hand-to hand combat.

IMPORTANT PLEASE READ: insight of recent events surrounding my tumblr, I have added an additional in-text warning for the smut scenes. This will continue for future chapters for those who do not wish to read the explicit scenes of More to Love.

Author’s Note: HEY, it’s been a little while, huh? Happy to be back. THANK YOU FOR 1k FOLLOWERS HOLY CRAP!! You all mean so much to me and the support of this fic is unlike anything I could have ever asked for! Also... the smut in this gets,, nasty. Like not that bad it isn’t super kinky or needs lots of warnings it’s just... like gross if you think too hard about that so do me a favor and don’t overthink it haha. OKAY LOVE YOU ENJOY

Part Nine

“No, If you keep that elbow down it will throw off your balance.”

“Okay, what if I hold it like this.”

“No it will get more tired faster.”

“Well how long do I have to keep it up like this?”

“Until the song ends!” You sigh, your fingers coming up to hold your eyebrow out of frustration. You and the Knight have been in the library for nearly an hour trying to learn how to waltz together and if you didn’t know any better, you’d guess he had two left feet. He was starting to get the hang of it, though. Slowly but surely and through a lot of trial and error but you don’t have very much room to talk because an hour before this one, he was just as frustrated with you because you couldn’t swing at him with nearly enough power needed to make some damage on anyone. This is how you’ve spent your last two evenings with the knight. The two of you sarcastically bullying one another in learning the opposite’s art. It was already Friday, the ball was tomorrow and you weren’t sure if he was going to be able to pull it together in time. The worst part is that you haven’t had anytime privately with him to do your... usual antics. There was always someone with you, usually Korkie or Koska, or the dance and fighting practice took up too much time to really have any fun.

The palace has been bustling the last two days. Every servant has had a task they were always doing, there was no down time for them which meant lots of downtime for the Royals. If there was no one to set up tea, then there would be no tea, simple as that.

Because of the high workload put on the staff of the palace, each royal has been subject to dinner in their own rooms alone this week, which was a dream come true for you. Dinner was your least favorite time of the day because of how painful it was to get through socially. And it also meant you got to spend more time with your own thoughts. You still aren’t sure what to do about the marriage, especially since you’ve admitted to yourself that you think you are falling for the beskar-clad knight who stands watch outside your door.

Even Soniee has been spending less time inside your quarters pampering you (you could really use a bubble bath). At all hours of the day, there was either a team of butlers carrying large bouquets of flowers down ornate hallways, a chef interrupting your dress fitting with Soniee and Koska to have you try another flower-flavored mousse, or an immediate meeting with the Queen to learn about some of your guests who will be at the masquerade and how to properly greet them. One time yesterday, you were asked to review the lanterns they picked out for the garden decorations. You were so indifferent to the ones they picked that the servants actually sent you back inside out of frustration. Along with the controlled chaos of preparations, the mask making has still left you feeling guilty. Just this morning you caught a glimpse of Koska’s shaky hands that had clearly been pricked by one too many needles while sewing jewels into the Queen’s mask. You must have apologized too much because she eventually got snarky and asked you to quit saying sorry about it. As much as you would like to dance with your knight with others looking on, you weren’t sure if it was worth all the pain and labor others were putting themselves through for it.

Party planning was exhausting, and on top of all of it, you needed to teach the most uncoordinated man in the kingdom how to waltz. It genuinely baffled you how he was able to be so methodical and perfect in hand-to hand combat and in bed but can barely hold his own in situations such as these. There was something charming about that flaw, however.

Now, the golden sunlight of the aging day was pouring into the towering windows of the Mandalorian library. It had made the room warm, and showed just how valuable the knight’s dark skin was as his bare hands soaked in the rays. You caught yourself staring at them a few too many times, which to your dismay, he caught you doing.

“You’re staring again.” He says while the two of you are practicing the basic 1, 2, 3 waltz step. Your eyes jump back to the emotionless visor of the beskar helmet which looked down at your face. You didn’t even realize you were looking at your hand holding out to the right, studying the way his knuckles looked and how clean his fingernails were.

“Sorry… It’s just that dancing is usually an emotional thing, you’re supposed to play off of eachother I suppose.” You shrug, stopping the dance. You realized you had been searching for something to play off of, anything, even if it’s just the calloused fingers of a hard worker.

You wouldn’t think the two of you would be so far behind and underprepared but for a majority of these rehearsals you’ve been the one leading as he figures it out. You know how bad it would look if you were the one leading tomorrow, and you’re starting to lose hope that you’re going to pull this off. You had wished you started teaching him earlier, but knew that he would have never agreed before now.

“Princess, you do realize that you’re probably still not going to see my face if we dance tomorrow.” He drops your hands. You sigh, you did know it, you just didn’t want to admit it.

“I know… when do you take it off?” You couldn’t remember if you had asked this already. Maybe you were out of line for asking, but a piece of you didn’t care, you deserved to know.

He was quiet, he always was when you asked him something personal. Maybe he was hoping you would get the idea by now…

“When I eat, when I sleep… sometimes around my son. Sometimes around other guards.” He said as he walked towards one of the library windows. You followed him, a few footsteps behind. He stopped at the glass, his reflection disturbing the pristine scene outside. You could see the beach from this window, not as well as in other parts of the castle, but the horizon of the Mandalorian sea was still in view. Your reflection came up behind his. You could see the exhale of his lungs from the shift in armor weight.

“I understand if you never want to show me.” You said. You didn’t really believe that, but you did respect him, and because of that you had to accept the reality that he may never show you. Maybe you were just trying to convince yourself that. You walk a little further to him and stand up on your tippy-toes so that you may rest your chin on his shoulder, looking out at the world below. It was so peaceful from up here. You’ve only left palace grounds once in the last two weeks and you desperately want to again. Being cooped up inside an oil painting was getting exhausting. “I want to go somewhere.” You mutter, your arms wrapping around his waist to hug him from behind: a pure and innocent act of affection.

“What?” His helmet turns to the side just a little bit so that you might hear him better. “Like… the Garden? The Parlor?”

“No!” You chuckle against his pauldron, “Outside, I want to get out of the palace again.”

“Did you forget what happened last time we went out?” He asks meditatively. “We can’t risk anything happening to you before tomorrow, The Queen would be furious, and even worse, Koska would be too.”

“Of course I didn’t forget! I’ll have the scar to always remind me” You giggle at his remark. “And besides, I-I want to go to the water.” You step out from behind him to look out at and gesture to the gentle waves against the golden beach. “I’ve been on a sandy beach before.” You clear your throat.

“We… might be able to arrange that. How about we go on Sunday? After the ball?” He attempts to negotiate.

“Or we could go now? There’s no formal dinner tonight.” You suggest.

“Your parents are coming in tonight, along with a number of other guests, not to mention Grand General Vizsla, all the Royal Guard is to be presented to him at nine.” He groans, but you were determined to convince him. You really needed a break from all of the planning, fittings and tastings.

“So? It’s barely five! We can just go for a little while!” You say as you look at the grandfather clock that sits nestled between two bookcases. You weren't feeling very optimistic, you doubted he would not budge, he’s always been so stubborn. “I can repay you…” You bite your lip. You were also incredibly horny and remember overhearing a maid back home talk about sex on the beach. It had always excited you.

He sighs again.

“Please? For me? I seriously deserve a break, so do you.” You reach out to stroke his hand. You knew that would probably work, it has before.

“Fine-“

“Really!?”

“Yes, but we have to tell Koska just so they don’t think we’re missing again.” He turns to walk out of the library. You silently congratulate yourself on getting the most unmovable and obedient man in the galaxy to go against his orders and do what you want. You happily skip behind him. “It takes a while to get all the way down to the beach so we should probably take a horse.” He says on the move. “Do you know how to ride?”

“I’m royalty, of course I do… do you?” You revising a teasing eyebrow.

He scoffs at your question, “There is much you do not know about me.”

“Well, you make it sort of hard for me to learn.” You roll your eyes playfully. He elbows you in the side, knocking you off your balance. You attempt to do the same to him, nudging him right back but not even getting the boy to budge and hurting your funny bone a little against the Beskar.

It takes you two a few minutes of complete silence and portrait-perfect stature to get all the way down the palace into the servants quarters. The only other time you had been in these narrow, stone hallways in the ground level of the Mandalorian Castle was earlier this week after Korkie begrudgingly led you back to your quarters in a wet peasant gown and a stinging bicep.

By the time the knight and yourself had made it down here, he was leading you through the maze of corridors, past helmetless knights who all nodded out of respect as they passed you, and into a wooden-arch. The room you had entered into must have been the servant’s common room, because it was about the size of the dining room. A candle-lit, wooden chandelier hung over four long tables, unlike the glass and oil-lamp chandeliers in the rest of the palace. A large fireplace burned on one wall, illuminating the room more and several small, gothic-arch windows towards the ceiling allowed warm light to pour into the cozy hall. Several handmaidens bejeweled masks at one table, twice as many sewed the bases of the coverings at another. One table showcased all of the finished designs, which depicted extravagant bird beaks, colorful fox and wolf snouts, towering cat and rabbit ears, ornate peacock tails, sharp antlers and horns on some and even incredible tusks on a few. They were all breathtaking, and while you felt guilty for making so many staff members work double-time, you appreciated their handy-work in making your dream come true.

The fourth and final table was mostly empty, a few elderly and child servants ate potato soup at it, and one maid cleaned her finger-nails at the opposite end. Everything was so simple and normal, it was such a display of controlled chaos that almost made you forget about the corruption in Mandalore… almost.

A sharp whistle rang through the room, and immediately, everyone dropped what they were doing, stood up swiftly from their seats on the long benches that paralleled each table, and turned to look at you before bowing deeply and diligently. They hadn’t even noticed you were there at first and interrupting their normalcy was not what you intended to do, but then you caught sight of who it was that sang the whistle. Koska Reeves was walking through the bowed, silent heads to you and the Knight. She looked exhausted, her hair was down and over her shoulders instead of pinned up in the intricate braids she usually wore them in when she was around royalty. The amount of fly-always was distracting but you couldn’t blame her, she would not disappoint the Queen with her work, even if that meant looking a little rough and disheveled.

“What’s the meaning of this? All royalty is supposed to be approved before coming in here.” She says to your knight chivalrously, then turns to you, “This is no sight for you, princess.” Something told you that she wasn’t only referring to the activities taking place in the common room. “I am sorry for our disorder.”

“No worries, Lady Reeves. There’s no need to apologize. I am most impressed by the work done on the masks for tomorrow.” You gesture to the table with the completed designs.

She sighs and smiles, “Thank you.” She nods before turning around, “Carry On!” She calls out to the room and everyone returns to normal as if nothing out of the ordinary happened, as if you weren’t even there. There was something you liked about that, something that reminded you that even though you have a lucky bloodline, you’re human too, and not all that different from the workers in this very room. Their daily routine was fascinating to you. “What do you two want?” She hushes her voice and drops her “right-hand woman to the queen”, first lady-in-waiting and head of the Mandalorian royal staff persona. She’s now the same brash friend you two shared.

“We want to go out for a while, it’ll just be a few hours but we knew we needed to tell someone in case anyone notices that we’re missing.” The Knight nods, explaining the situation. She raises a questionable eyebrow.

“Absolutely not, we cannot risk anything happening to her before tomorrow night.” Your heart drops.

“That’s what I said, but she’s incredibly convincing.” He shrugs, tilting his head just enough to show the extra bit of emotion. Koska looks between the two of you, her hands perched firmly on her hips. You caught sight of her hands again, which were now bandaged tightly with the same white gauze that she wrapped your cut arm with earlier this week. You wondered if that was done to dress bleeding wounds, keep the shakiness from over-working and late nights in control, or a dreadful mix of both. A terrible feeling told you it was the third.

“Vizsla is going to be here.” She raises an eyebrow, her intimidating demeanor hasn’t gone away even after she’s become aware of your little secret (well, actually massive, life-altering, “how-the-hell-am-I-gonna-fix-this?” secret). “If you aren’t here, that could result in a court-martial from the Queen herself.”

“Sounds tempting.” He replies.

“You and I both know what’s going to happen to you and your little boy if you step out of line, even once, which is why I’m guarding your scandle so close to my heart.” Her voice get’s real quiet when she says that, and he shifts his weight. Your heart drops, what in the world could she mean by that? “You know what could happen to you if I accidentally slip something, that’s why I won’t cover for you.”

“What the hell does that mean?” You whisper. She glances at you and then right back to him.

“Wow, you really haven’t told her much, have you?” Koska’s arms move from her hips into a fold over her chest. He doesn’t respond.

“Told me much about what?” You ask, worried about whatever was going on that you didn’t know about. Every day you’re reminded about how much of a stranger he really is to you.

“All she knows is that I had an old job, that’s all she needs to know.” He bites back, his voice equally hushed.

“If you’re fucking her, she deserves to know a lot more, but that’s just my opinion.” Koska chuckles once and you blush red hot. “I mean, at least tell her your name.”

“Why is this happening here? Now?” He gestures to the very crowded room. “Look, we just want to go down to the beach for an hour at the most. We’ll be back long before Vizsla gets here. You won’t have to cover for us, I swear.” He tries changing the subject but your mind is racing with the possibilities and confusion of the conversation you were just welcomed into.

Koska looks between the two of you a few times again, carefully considering what’s on the table and the risk. “Fine, one horse. I mean it, only one because if two are gone, someone will notice and then I’m gonna have to do exactly what I told you I wouldn’t do and what you said I won't have to: cover for your ass. Get out of here.” She beckons her head to a door that leads outside as a smile spreads across your cheeks. “Djarin! Don’t be late!” She calls out as you begin walking. That’s the second time you have heard that word, both times uttered from Koska’s mouth. Something wanted you to believe that might be his name but you were far too scared to find out for your own. You would try to remember it this time.

The knight leads you out of the room, and you watch Koska over your shoulder as you follow, studying the way she stood still immediately after you walk away, taking a few deep, sharp breaths and then promptly returning to her work. You wondered if she was tired, remembering that not everyone who lives in the Mandalorian Palace has the same relaxing lifestyle that you have.

Despite the aging daylight, it was still deathly hot. The heat of summer bled onto your shoulders, which were still partially covered due to the scarring cut in your muscle. The clothing only added to the heat. The part of the Castle grounds you were were foreign to you. They weren’t the beautiful, lush and trimmed gardens or breezy courtyards you usually spend your afternoons in, no. It was dark, the tall height of the palace shading the courtyard where knights sparred and a pair of little servant girls chased one another. One wall that lined the courtyard was the horse stables, and another was a blacksmith. The golden light shone through the stables, and you were able to spot the four white horses that took you and Korkie to Keldabe earlier this week despite the beasts being backlit.

“You can ride, I’ll just walk.” He says as he guides you to a palomino, a tall horse with a Caramel body and pure white mane.

“Are you sure?” You ask, not wanting him to have to walk.

“Of course.” He says as he mindlessly bridles the horse, petting him on the nose a few times. “Do you prefer a saddle?” He asks. You nod, and he swings the seat over the back of the steed.

“Does this horse have a name?” You ask, reaching your hand out to pet his neck a few times. The horse nickers at your touch.

“He likes you.” The Knight chuckles. You smile at the statement, and continue to stroke the soft hair on the neck. “Clove.” He says, his voice velvet and full of caring. The knight knew this horse. They had a bond. “Here.” He holds his hand up for you to hoist yourself onto the saddle. You were in no way dressed for riding, and the saddle wasn’t even a side-riding seat, but you would make it work. You knew that on the palace grounds you would have to ride side-saddle, it’s customary, and how you learned. But that didn’t mean you couldn’t ride regularly. The horses back home in Corellia were massive beasts, animals suited for harsh winters and heavy amounts of snow, thick fur covers their ankles so that they can trudge through deep snow and pull sleighs. The Mandalorian horses were far more majestic, more like show horses than work horses. Clove was gentle, though, that was something that wasn’t common for the strong horses up north. He didn’t move a muscle or bat an eyelash as you heave yourself onto his back, adjusting yourself to sit properly, the knight’s hand holding yours tightly as you positioned yourself and then rearranging the heavy skirt of your dress to properly cover your legs. His plan grazes your shin as he does it, and your eyes immediately catch the visor of his beskar helmet. You liked to think he was looking at your eyes, too. The moment is so still, time freezing for half a second.

He starts to walk the horse out of the opposite side of the stable and into the field behind the palace. You could see the tree line of the garden from here. The bridle was tightly wrapped around his hand as he led the two of you out of the palace and into the hot, hot sun. This was the first time you’ve ridden a horse in a very long time, and you had almost forgotten how much you loved it. A cheesy smile was on your face, and your eyes cycled from the mane of the horse, the shoreline ahead, the back side of the ornate castle and the top of the helmet of the knight. The sun reflected off of the beskar, causing a bright illumination to shine on the bodice of your gown. He walked methodically and quietly, and you wanted to start a conversation with him but it didn’t feel right.

Comfortable silence is often overlooked, something taken for granted that is really only shared between two trusting people. You aren’t sure if you’ve ever experienced a genuine comfortable silence with anyone before. Being a royal has a lot of “fine print”, one of which being that no one ever shut up. Korkie isn’t the only self-centered, talkative royal in this world. The thing that sets Korkie aside from the rest is the fact that you’ll have to deal with it intimately for the rest of your life.

There was something wildly attractive about the introvert by your side. Because he was few with words, it caused you to seek them out, and cherish what little you did get. He was warming up to you, opening up and every time you get a moment alone with him, he says a little more. Your conversations now are very different from that first night in the castle when he helped you untie your corset. All he said originally was “Goodnight, Princess”, and now he’s telling you about the stars and teaching you how to fight and defend yourself. The idea that it’s happened too fast has crossed your mind several times, but you considered that when you’re alone with someone almost all day, every day, you’re bound to get to know one another quicker than usual. However, you’ve also been afraid that you came off too harsh, maybe you jumped into it all too fast and overwhelmed him. What if he’s only complying to the relationship because he’s obligated to through his duty? You had to admit that there were a number of insecurities surrounding your friendship, you would be lying to yourself if you didn’t think that. Maybe you felt that way because you relied so heavily on him to get away from the other boy in your life who you can’t escape no matter how hard you try. Was it entirely possible that the knight feels about you the way you feel about Korkie? That very thought made you sick, your stomach twisting and preventing you from enjoying the beautiful landscape ahead.

“What’s wrong?” He asks. He noticed that you had tensed up. You silently curse yourself for not hiding it better.

“What?” Your look down at him, forcing a false smile. He was looking up at you now, his hand resting on your knee. Your eyes move from where he holds you and back up to the visor on his helmet. “Oh… nothing.” You hum.

“You are a fool if you think you can hide anything from me.” He tilts his head and your cheeks burn with blush. You sigh, knowing you should tell him. The chances are that expressing these concerns to him might give you a piece of mind… or they could do the exact opposite. You aren’t sure if you can take the emotional weight of resenting two men who you admire. You admire them for entirely different reasons, however. You admire Korkie for his dedication to his kingdom, and you admire that he’s genuinely trying his best. However, you admire the Knight for his kindness, his patience, his protection. You admire his velour voice, his plush lips, and the way he touches you. You admire that he’s a father, that he’s split his dedication between his duty to his kingdom and his duty to his son. You admire his deep chuckle, and the way he kisses you, the way you can see him laugh when you shoot him silly faces during dinner. You both admired and was frustrated by his obedience to his creed. He kept promises, no matter how life-altering they may be.

As you reflect on all the reasons he meant anything to you, you felt a sense of peace. It was better, the feeling in your stomach, that is. You decide it is right to tell him, you recall your governess explaining to you that all good relationships are built on enthusiastic communication, and you wanted your relationship with the Knight to be considered ‘good’. You sigh and then speak up, “I just…” You take a sharp, deep breath in the middle of your sentence before speaking up again, “just lots of insecurities, I suppose.” You shrug.

“Insecure- about what?” He asks.

“Everything, but especially us.” You didn’t really want to have this conversation, but you knew you had to.

“May I ask why?” His tone was sincere.

You aren’t sure how to reply at first. “Is it too fast? Am I too much?” You ask after careful consideration of what you were going to bring up first.

“What? No.” You think this was the first time he had ever replied immediately after you ask him something. “What makes you think that?”

“I don’t know-“

“Yes you do… tell me.” He reassures.

“Our personalities are different, you’re quiet and stoic…”

“Is that… bad?”

“No! No, not at all. Royals just aren’t that, and I worry if we’re compatible enough. And don’t mistake me, I admire that about you, but I fear I’m too much for you.” You sigh, shaking your head. Clove nickers again as if he’s listening in on your conversation and chiming in. He doesn’t respond right away which you’ve gotten used to, but if it was any other situation you wouldn’t be overthinking it. You can’t take the silence anymore and speak up, “And there’s the added factor that I’m totally cheating on Korkie with you-”

“-If I thought you were too much, do you think I would let you teach me how to dance?” He interrupts. The words halt in your mouth, and you look at him almost dumbfounded. “Or do you think I would be teaching you how to defend yourself? Fucking you on a royal sofa in an un-locked room? Risking my title to take you to the beach?” He almost sounded… angry? Had you offended him for thinking that? Your legs tensed up on the horse, and you regretted everything you had said. He did have a point, you hadn’t really thought of that.

“I… suppose you’re right.” You mutter.

“I don’t have to be doing any of this,” He grabs your hand, holding it in his and uses his other hand to halt the horse. The three of you pause in the field between the beach and the castle. There had been a downgrade so you were mostly hidden but you could still the upper-towers of the palace. He looks up and you, and you find yourself wishing you could see his eyes again. “But I do because I’m… fond of you.” It sounds like he’s having a hard time getting the words out, but that isn’t very uncommon for him. Your heart flares up, this was the first time he had ever admitted anything like that.

“W-what?” You ask, sounding like a fool.

“I know, it’s crazy. How could a halfwit like myself deserve a Princess like you?” He chuckles under his breath. “Maybe the elf laid a spell on me, I don’t know. But I do know that ever since I was given the duty of protecting you, my life has been different.” You can’t believe what you’re hearing. “I’ve… I’ve never felt this way about anyone, and I don’t know what it is but I-I-“ You smile fondly, and use his hand to hop off the horse. You bring your hands up to hold the back of his neck.

“It’s not a spell.” You whisper. “I feel it too.”

“Then it’s a spell on both of us.”

“Maybe.” You move your hands up to his helmet, desperately wanting to remove it, but you remember what you told yourself the other day. If he wishes to show you his face, it should be his choice, he deserves to be the one to take the beskar off. You would respect that. Instead, you just run your fingertips along the lip of the helmet, looking into the visor enchantingly. “Then it would be a wonderful spell.”

His hands find their way to your waist, hugging you to his chest. You rest or head on his shoulder and just close your eyes, feeling his chest plate move with each breath. It’s so still, the summer breeze softly runs through the tall grass. You can hear the waves gently hugging the beach, and the two of you just stand there like that. Completely alone, the only companionship being one another and a mindlessly-grazing horse. No one to interrupt. No doors to lock. No Princes to lie to. No thieves to fight. Just the two of you. If you could stay in that moment for the rest of your life, you would. In the earlier days of your relationship, you used to worry you wouldn’t like what his face looked like, worried that he might be unattractive to you. But every selfish desire you had about his physical appearance dissolved with the wind. No matter what he looked like, or what his past was, or what his name was, you didn’t care. You didn’t care because he cared for you, and you cared for him, too.

Before you can soak in the moment any longer, you’re swiftly grabbing his wrist, and tugging him towards the beach. The stillness of the moment is lost, but you’re quickly giggling as he’s chasing you down the small slope to the beach. You pull your skirt up as far as you can so you don’t trip on it, and find yourself being unable to slow down before the hill meets the shore. The soil slowly becomes more and more sandy, and your feet are bolting against uneven land towards teal, clear water. Before you can reach the ocean, however, strong hands are wrapping around your waist, pulling you flush against the Knight’s chest. You can hear the low rumble of chuckling in his throat, and you have the biggest, dorkiest smile of all time on your face. He spins the two of you around a few times before setting you back down on the beach.

You’re out of breath from running, and your hair is already untidy from the unexpected change of direction. The wind blows it just softly, letting it pull away from your face and neck. He tucks one rogue strand behind your ear, and then cups your face. You hadn’t even realized he’s been gloveless this entire time. You close your eyes and rest your cheek into him. You turn your head ever-so-slightly to kiss his palm, laying a sweet and innocent peck to his calloused skin.

You wonder if he’s hot with all that armor on. If you were too warm with a dress, only he knows what it’s like to have to spend summers so formally.

He’s the one to pull away, walking towards the water. You follow him, and the two of you stand against the tide. You kick your shoes off and pull your dress up again. Stepping into the water. You giggle at the tickle of the sand and smile at the feeling of the warm water against your ankles. He watches you fondly with his arms crossed. The water in Corellia is never this warm, and you throw your head back in bliss, breathing in the salty air. This was the happiest you had ever been since you arrived in Mandalore. The break from all the rules and customs was very needed, and you soaked in the sound of the waves, a distant call of a gull, and the wind keeping your hair out of your face. The best part was the fact that you were experiencing it with the Knight. There is no other person you would rather spend this memory with. You bite your lip and close your eyes and you never want to leave, you want to stay here forever. You hear the sound of metal clinking behind you, and something heavy hitting the sand. You turn to look at the Knight, who had discarded most of his armor. His boots have been carefully set next to one another, and beside them were his pauldrons, wrist guards, thigh plates and breastplate. The chainmail was the next thing to be removed, leaving him in only the dark-brown underclothes. His trousers were heavy duty, covered in various pockets and made out of thick material, but his tunic was a thin material, still long sleeved, but flowy, allowing the fresh, summer breeze to run through the fabric. The two items of clothing were held together by a pair of black suspenders, and the entire ensemble made him oh so… human.

You had only seen him with all his armor on before, and witnessing his shell being removed was both humbling and inspiring. The armor added quite a bit of bulk to his stature, it rounded out his shoulders, boosted his posture, and broadened him out. That was the first thing you noticed about him on the first day you arrived, he was ample in size and it made you feel so primal and safe. Despite his smaller stature without the armor, he wasn’t one bit less attractive to you. He was still the same guy who you were slowly falling for and didn’t even know it. But as he cuffed up his trousers and rolled back his shoulders, you felt so comfortable in his presence. He wasn’t just a mass of armor and creeds and rules, no, he was just a man. He was a single father, a guy who doesn’t know the first thing about dancing, and a boy born across the world in the Nevarro frontier. He was just a man.

You couldn’t stop the warm feeling in your chest that came with this thought. Everything about him was far more simple than you initially thought.

He walked towards you, and you held out your hand for him to take. He laces his fingers with yours as he steps into the shallow water with you. Your dress drops, dipping into the water and getting wet but you can’t even be mad about it. Your smile is big as his hand tightly grasped yours, the two of you looking out at the horizon.

“When I was a boy-” he begins, his voice quiet, “I wanted to live on the sea. Join a ship crew and travel the waters. There was always something so adventurous about that thought.” He shares. You turn to look at him as he speaks, studying the contour of the helmet with your eyes.

“What stopped you?” You ask, not entirely sure if he would share, but this time he was the one to start the conversation, and you felt like he might this time.

He sighs, you see it, he turns to look at you, the two of you staring at one another as the temperature slowly dropped with the sun on the horizon. “I was orphaned when I was only five.” He shrugs, your heart breaks. “It was one of the Mandalorian wars that caused it.”

You can’t imagine what it’s like having to serve a kingdom so intimately when they were responsible for the death of your family. You give his hand a reassuring squeeze, letting him know that you’re here for him. “I’m sorry.” You whisper.

“It’s not your fault, it was so long ago I don’t really remember it.” He looks down at the water.

“Thank you, for sharing that with me.” You smile apologetically. You really did appreciate that he felt comfortable enough to share something so serious with you. While you were grateful that he had begun to open up to you, it still didn’t answer any of the questions about Mandalore’s past, and what Koska was referring to a few days ago. It didn’t tell you what his past job was and why he’s serving the royal family now. However, you supposed it didn’t really matter, not right now, not today.

After a little minute of listening to the waves, he reaches down into the water, picking up a flat, thin rock. He runs his pointer finger along the edge, outlining the shape before hatching it into the space between his index finger and thumb, reeling back, and flicking it out so it hopped over the water’s surface seven or eight times before falling in. You looked at him enchanted, like he had just expressed a magic trick to a bright-eyed child.

“How did you do that?” You ask in awe.

“You’ve never seen anyone skip a rock?” He asks. You slowly shake your head. You’ve been cooped up inside a wintry castle your entire life, of course you haven’t.

“Teach me.” You say a little too forcefully. He chuckles and looks down at the sand, looking for a pebble that might work. He bends down eventually, and picks out a similar looking rock to the original.

“So, you want a rock that’s thin and flat, like this one.” He shows you the sediment. You reach your hand out, taking it and outlining the edge of the stone with your finger similar to how he did. He walks behind you, sloshing in the water but eventually gaining position. He wraps his left arm around your waist, and cups your right hand which holds the rock in his. “Now, don’t throw it quite yet, okay?”

“Alright.”

“You’re gonna flick your wrist like this,” he motions both of your hands at the same time, pulling back and then shooting forward quickly. He does it two or three times before speaking up again. “You’ll use your pointer finger to pull back like the trigger on a crossbow, it will give the rock enough spin that it stays on top of the water.” He makes you do the motion along with him a few times again. “Your shoulders will draw back almost like you’re pulling back an arrow on a bow.” Again, he does the motion with you, your back flush to his chest. You admired that he was able to relate everything to weaponry. He definitely knew his way around combat, that was apparent to you. “Then, you add all three motions together, aim for the horizon, and-“ he pulls back with you and before you know it, the rock is spiraling out of your hand and onto the surface of the ocean. It doesn’t skip, though, and instead plops right into the water.

You frown and look back at him. “What did I do wrong?” You ask, you knew he would know what needed to change.

“You didn’t flick your finger enough. Try again.” He pulls another stone out with a grunt, and holds you against his body to pull back and send another rock out. This one skips once before plopping into the water again. You sigh out, frustrated. “Here, try without me.” He says after handing you a third flat stone. You carefully practice the motion once, desperately wanting to impress him. You then pull back and give it everything you got, only for the stone to plop in without skipping at all again.

“Ugh, lemme try again.” You say angrily. You can hear him laughing at you, but you ignore it, ready to try again and determined to get it right this time.

You must have thrown four more rocks after that with no results. Each time he tried giving you just a little more advice about different things, “Follow through” or “You had too much spin that time”. You were starting to get really frustrated, having never had to really work for anything in your life before, and you knew he was starting to have a hard time finding flat rocks. You would not give up on this.

“Maybe we can try again next time-“

“No.” You say forcefully, “We do not leave this beach until I skip a damn rock, so if you want to be back in time for your evaluation with Vizsla, I suggest you find me another rock.” You raise an eyebrow as you pull out your diplomatic royal voice. He holds his hands back in defense and then tosses you the stone he already had waiting for you. You sigh when you catch it, taking a deep breath and remembering all your training. Don’t spin too much, follow through, add all three motions together, have faith.

You pull back the stone, praying that it will all go according to plan because you aren’t sure how much longer you can take failure. You pick out your target with your eyes before adding together all the advice given to you and sending it. You can hardly believe your eyes when you see it skip at least five times over the water. You cheer out in accomplishment and look over at the Knight, smiling big and triumphant. He runs through the water to you, shouting with you.

“I knew you could do it!” He grabs your waist, congratulating you. You giggle out of achievement. “See, that wasn’t so hard, was it?” He asks.

You roll your eyes and playfully punch his arm (which luckily this time was not covered by pain-inflicting chainmail). “A lot easier than having to dodge your hits.” You admit.

“I’m proud of you.”

“It’s just a rock skip?” You wonder why he would be proud of you for that and ask yourself if you really are that pathetic.

“Yes but you put your mind to it and did it! I know some guys in the royal guard who would have given up on their third try, but you didn’t!”

“I was just trying to impress you.” You sheepishly chuckle.

“We’ll consider myself: Impressed.” He laughs and you blush.

“They don’t teach royals that.”

“Well of course not, I learned how to do that from the guy who took me in after my parents died. You picked it up much faster than I did.” He nods and you smile again.

The two of you catch your breath from the exuberant laughing, but you aren’t able to enjoy the still moment because all too quick it all comes crashing down quickly when he’s pushing you into the water. It isn’t very deep, but the unexpected soak makes you yelp out in surprise. Your initial reaction is to be frustrated, but you can hear him chuckling by your side and you can’t help but mischievously smiling in response. He’s standing, still dry with a hand over his stomach as he laughs at you. You roll your eyes before reaching up to pull him in with you, he yelps out stupefied as he’s splashing down into the tide next to you. You laugh out at him, sitting up in the water which is about waist deep. He wipes some water away from his visor and then splashes you, swatting a handful of the ocean at your face. Your laughing immediately halts from a mouthful of salt water. Your slight makeup washes off, and your hair is starting to get wet, too. You look over at him with a frown before copying his action and spraying him right back. He laughs at you, and you remember that you can’t win this. He has a helmet to keep his eyes clear from the water. You groan out of frustration, and wipe your eyes dry. He’s just looking at you, panting. His clothes were soaked now. You crawl to be closer to him in the water, which thank goodness it wasn’t too cold because you’d be rushing to get out, but the summer weather made it enjoyable to just sit there together.

[SMUT BEGINS HERE]

You’re next to him, running your fingers lightly up and down his right arm, looking at him fondly. He catches his breath, and brings his wet hand up to cup your face again. You close your eyes, hoping he takes the hint, which he does because a few seconds have your eyes are closed, his arm his pulling away from your touch against it and his lips are pressing into yours. You can tell he completely took the helmet off this time, which means he would take his time kissing you instead of a quick peck to shut you up.

The two of you sit in the water of the Mandalorian Ocean, both of his hands reaching up to hold you as he kisses each eyelid as if to say “keep ‘em closed”, before moving to your lips passionately. His left hand holding your cheek while his right hand finds its place on the back of your neck, pulling you into him. You breathe deeply as he practically devours you, his lips moving hungrily. Your hands find their way to his thighs in the water, running your palms up and down the strong muscle, making sure to take notice of the healing wound on his upper-thigh. Your hands eventually find their way to the waistband of his pants, running your fingers under them to pull out the tuck of the tunic. Fingernails come out of the water and up soft abs that flinch at the stroke. It’s hard to work around the suspenders, but you’re able to still run your hands over his torso, getting to know his body for the first and hopefully not the last) time. He has a few scars, you can feel the fresh tissue under your fingers and wonder what caused them. He’s still kissing you, his left hand moves down to hold your jaw and you keep your eyes tightly shut out of fear of this ending too quickly. The kissing noises are obscene, wet and needy amongst the sound of the waves. The Knight licks into your mouth, his tongue hot and forceful as it explores your mouth, you can taste the lust on his lips, and you happily welcome the sensation.

His right hand works around the way your gown has flared out in the water and eventually wraps itself around your ass, pulling you up onto his lap. You’re mostly out of the water now, just your shins being completely submerged. You’re slightly weighed down by the added weight of a wet skirt, but you sit comfortably on the guards lap, your hands coming up to wrap around his neck, kissing him from above now. The kiss is forced down, and this time you’re able to lick into his mouth, nibbling his lip and deepening the kiss further from the angle. You can’t help your hands from cupping his face now, pulling him into you.

Your noses rub into one another, and both of his arms lift you up from behind. Your back arches into him, and your breathing hitches, getting heavier and hotter. He starts to get hard, you feel it under your body, and a mixture of the kissing and the pressure beginning to press into your cunt is really starting to turn you on. You start to just softly grind against him, moaning a little bit at the feeling of his growing cock against your heat. His hands help you, making the humping motion more smooth and natural. The kissing becomes sloppy now, and the water from the wet bodice is making your nipples just that much harder.

Your hands are reaching down to slide the suspenders off his shoulders, and then you’re pulling his shirt up and unhooking the trousers. Your hand is reaching in and finding the base of his hardening, thick length. He groans at your touch, and you’re bending down to kiss his neck, sucking deep, purple hickeys into his golden skin. You’re needy, still grinding against him and trying not let the water slow you down. He’s sighing breathy moans and grunts in your ear as you start jerking him off. The water does make it hard, but there’s something about the added sensation of the flowing water that really made it unique. You swipe your thumb over the head a few times, getting drunk with the unexpected control you have. This was the first time the two of you have fooled around that you really got to have total dominance. You liked it… you really liked.

He did too.

Your clit is able to rut so slightly and deliciously into your fist and his cock, and you’re having a hard time not letting your eyes open and flutter in pleasure. The same shocks of ecstasy ran up and down your spine, and he held you closer to his body, using his strong hands to cup your ass and knead the soft skin. You’re panting, your free hand reaches down to rub your clit, both of your hands working in between your legs as you straddle the Knight. You’re going to cum already and can’t believe it’s happening so fast but choose not to hold it back. You’re moaning out loud when you cum against your fingers, graining against his lap fast and squeezing his cock a little harder.

“Fuck, did you just cum?” He asks deep in his voice, growling in your ear. You hum out in response against his neck pathetically, and all dominance you previously possessed dissolves as you keep jerking off your Knight. “Dirty girl, kiss me. Keep those pretty eyes closed.” His throat is dry, which you remember from last time that that means he’s close, too. You reach up to kiss him again, going in tongue first and breathing in his scent deeply. One of his hands reaches around to cup yours that is working his length, holding it and adding pressure and then making you go faster, you happily oblige and soon the pace is quick and he’s grunting against your lips. He cums in your hand, you feel the heat of it. He’s panting and sighing and it’s all so hot you think you could get turned on by it again.

He rests his head on your shoulder after cumming, catching his breath. You take your hand out of the water and you tangle your fingers through his hair, toying with the curls as he sighs against your wet skin. You open your eyes now, looking out at the horizon, lashes heavy with lust.

[SMUT ENDS HERE]

“Gross.” You chuckle.

“You liked it.” He hums against your collar bone. His hands are steadfast on your lower back, holding you there against his chest. He doesn’t have the cold breastplate separating the two of you, so your hearts were pressed against one another, beating in perfect synch. You could also finally feel how warm his body was, despite the wet clothes and gentle waves. In your peripheral, you can see some of the brown curls.

Your heart warms, this might be the happiest you have ever been. The two of you must have sat like that for a long time because your skin was starting to prune and your hair was slowly drying with the wind. His breathing had completely calmed, and he was so still and quiet that just for a moment you wondered if he had fallen asleep. The sun was almost down completely, only a little sliver of it peaking over the water. You watched it as it fell to its resting place in the ocean, the sky still blazing oranges and yellows but cooling with a soft, pale blue from the top down. It was so… serene, so peaceful. Nothing like the crashing waves of Corellia. This was the best part of Mandalore yet. It’s saving grace.

The crescent moon is on the horizon when he’s turning to kiss your ear one more time and asking you to close your eyes as he pulls the helmet back on.

“We should probably get back, I don’t want to be late for Vizsla and I’m afraid I’ve started to lose track of time.” He stands up and holds his hand out for you to take. You attempt to hoist yourself up out of the water, but the wet dress has added so much weight that you can’t lift your legs up. You grunt in effort, but there’s no budging. “Huh, looks like we need to take that thing off.”

“Again?” You look up at him, you knew he had a smug smirk under all that beskar. You reach behind you to undo the corset just enough for you to step out of it, water dripping from your undergarment as he yanks you up and out of the warm water. “I’m starting to think you just really like seeing me naked.” You mutter and don’t realize how close you were to him while saying that until after. You catch your tongue, holding your breath as he looks down at you.

“Yeah, something like that.” He mumbles in response and you believe you could faint and die right then and there. He doesn’t let the moment stew for nearly as long as you would have liked for it, however and he’s pulling the sopping wet dress out of the water and carrying it back on shore. He hands it to you when he gets to his armor, and you try ringing some of the liquid out from the fabric but it’s almost too heavy for you to even hold in your arms. He re-assembles his gear on top of the wet clothes and you know that can’t be comfortable. Sand clings to your bare, wet feet, and you're desperately trying to brush some of it off before slipping your shoes back on. He’s resituated too fast, he has dressing his armor down to a perfection and you’re sad to see your beach adventure come to a close so quickly.

Before you know it, he’s walking up the hill again with you by his side, making your ways to Clove who has been diligently and patiently chewing on the grass in the field this entire time.

“Ride with me.” You ask as he helps you onto the palomino. “Please.” You ask. “We’ll get to the palace faster and then maybe you can get out of those wet clothes before you have to go to the meeting.” You ask. He sighs but then nods with a shrug, hoisting himself onto the horse behind you. You were riding normally now, and situated yourself comfortably into his chest. The wet gown lay on the back of the horse and you wished you had thought about removing that before getting into the water.

As the two of you start a gentle gallop to the palace, you feel your hair get drier. At one moment he reaches his hand up to run bare fingers over your healing bicep.

“We should have kept this out of the water.” He says in your ear. You twist your head back to reply.

“It’s okay, really. It’s starting to feel a lot better.” You reassure.

“It looks better, but the salt water can only do bad things to it.” He explains. You shrug, unsure of how he expects you to respond.

The three of you arrive at the castle just as the sky begins to darken, both of you still damp from the ocean but your hearts still full and bodies still riding the orgasm high. The Knight helps you off the horse, and now that you aren’t alone, you feel very aware that you’re only in your undergarments and really anyone could see you. You pull the wet gown off the rump of Clove, which was so saturated that it made his fur wet. You hold it against your body, trying to cover yourself up as much as possible. The Knight removes the saddle of the horse, storing it away and removing the bit. He stretches the beast’s ears and then walks over to the far side of the stable to grab a carrot out of a bucket before handing it to Clove as a reward for his hard work. You watch him as he expertly takes care of the animal, like he’s done it a thousand times before.

Then, with no warning, the two of you hear the shrill voice of none other than Koska Reeves.

“I shouldn’t have let you go.” She’s crossing over the dirt courtyard to the stables. Her hair has been done now, put up into the customary braids they usually are in. She was now wearing the royal blue color reserved for the Queen’s court, a golden sash sitting on her hips. She held the dress above her feet and she hustled in your direction. You felt scared, you knew Koska meant business, and was not afraid to scold. She was intimidating, to say the least. “You’re soaking wet.” She gasps when she gets to the stable fence. “Come with me, Princess. We must get you changed before anyone sees you or the Queen will have my head.” She sighs, opening the gate for you to walk through. “As for you, Vizsla’s here early.”

“What.” You heard the drop in his voice from panic. “Why?”

“No one knew, he just arrived before we could do any regular welcoming. The evaluation is starting in ten minutes, I suggest you move your ass.” She shakes her head. You were incredibly thankful you had both rode Clove now. He wouldn’t have made it back in time if you hadn’t. You did feel a twinge of guilt, however. You shouldn’t have pushed for that so much and risked him missing his mandatory meeting. But an overwhelming part of you was more than happy that you got to experience those few hours alone with him. He swears under his breath before bowing to you, shrugging apologetically and then full sprinting towards the servant quarter’s entrance. “I would take that from you,” Koska says in reference to the wet dress, “But I’m already in my ceremonial dress. I can’t get it wet. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize. I can manage.” You nod. The two of you begin to walk back inside, and the night time breeze runs over your wet body, making you shudder ever-so-slightly. When you get back inside, the Knight is nowhere to be seen, and there’s only a fraction of the people as there were earlier. The masks had all been moved somewhere, which let you know they finished them. A mother sat on a chair by the fireplace, nursing a small baby and three young boys who couldn’t be any older than seventeen all sat around one table playing some type of card game and eating buttered bread. They were the stable boys. The three of them stared at you when you walked in, in awe of your unparalleled beauty and the fact that you were carrying a massive, heavy, wet dress.

Koska led you down a hall adjacent to the fireplace. You could see into a few sleeping quarters. The little ones were dozing off, and in one room was a couple laughing together. The small community that existed underneath the palace was something you deeply admired. You wouldn’t have had any idea any of this was here if you hadn’t pushed for today’s events, and you truly loved it. You loved how all these people found refuge and a home here.

You wished you could, too.

Koska stops at one door, taking the wet dress out of your hands and tossing it into the room before closing the wooden door shut and progressing back down the hallway. She eventually opens up a door to a small room with a single bed and large chest.

“Is this your room?” You ask, looking around and familiarizing yourself with it. A single embroidery hoop with a half-done pattern sat on the bed, on the windowsill was a melting candle whose wax had dried in a cascading pattern on the ancient stone, and at the foot of the bed was a small table with a wash basin and hairpins.

“No, It’s my sister’s. My room is closer to the Queen’s.” She nods. You had no clue Koska had a sister. She opens up the chest and pulls out a dry under-slip and simple but pretty purple dress. It wasn’t a ballgown and had long, bell sleeves in a similar fashion to Koska’s. There was some moon and star embroidery on the bodice.

“I didn’t know you had a sister.” You said, starting to shiver a little now.

“Her name is Alva, she works in the kitchen.” She nods as she crosses over to the table, opening up a little box to pull out a horse-hair comb.

“Will she mind us using her things?”

“Well, you’re the Princess, so I hope not.” She shrugs and crosses over the room again like a madwoman, pulling a wool blanket from the chest. “Here, strip and dry off.” You look at her, confused. “Alright… I’ll turn around then.” Koska rolls her eyes and turns to face the wall. You peel off the wet slip, and use the wool material to wipe your body dry. It wasn’t nearly as soft and luxurious as the cotton robes you have five floors up, but it will do for now. You have sand everywhere, and you mean everywhere. You brush it off as best you can, hoping it doesn’t make too much of a mess for anyone to have to clean. You then pull on the dry clothes, and clear your throat when you’re done and decent.

Koska turns around and smiles. “Sit, I’ll brush your hair for you and then escort you back upstairs to see your parents.”

You had completely forgotten that they would be arriving tonight. You get a twinge of adrenaline. You’ve been so homesick, and it will be nice to see some familiar faces after such an emotional two weeks. You sit at the stool in front of the table, and Koska carefully combs out your knotted but drying hair.

“So… It looks like you two had fun.” She says. You smile and blush.

“Yes, we did.” You chuckle.

“That’s good, it’s been so long since he’s had fun. He deserves it.” She hums in response and you immediately question how they know one another so well again.

“How do you know each other?” You ask, knowing there's no harm in that.

Koska sighs, “We… used to work together in a sense. He’s a good man, an even better father.” She shrugs. So that’s four people you can think of who know about his son, You, Koska, Peli and the woman from Isla’s bar… although that situation seemed different, magical almost.

“You two never…” You trail off, not really wanting to hear the answer but not stopping yourself before you ask it anyways.

Koska laughs out loud this time, stopping the combing motion, “Oh stars, no. Never. I have someone else… and he has you.”

Your heart warms at that phrase. “Who is this ‘someone else’ you speak of?” You ask, enjoying the casual girl talk the two of you are sharing.

She hums again, “You’ve met her, she’s shorter than me and far more serious, she has a fire burning, but she’s special to me.” You can hear the smile in Koska’s tone.

You wonder who she’s talking about.

—

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“If you are included in the taglist, you are expected to interacted with the post you are tagged in (ex. Reblogs, comments and notes), if I notice that you are not interacting with the applicable post, you will be removed from the taglist”

—

[cobaincreates]

touch

warnings: freshly served smut :), oral (male receiving), 18+

count: 4k+

this is part one & wow i really did that. taglist is totally open by the way! let me know what you think!

— — —

what the hell was it about veins sticking out of an arm that had you nearly drooling? they shouldn’t be so attractive, yet here you were in a deep trance thinking about licking the prominent flexing of them in a specific forearm. you supposed it was your brain sending a slew of chemicals through your body, making your heartbeat spread from your chest to your fingertips. the longer you stared at the tiny mounds, the quicker the thrum of your heart spread to your center. science wasn’t really your strong suit, so you didn’t dare try to knit pick the core reason you were feeling a little (very) hot (and bothered).

if you could push down with the pad of your thumb at the peak of the vein, you’d most likely be grossed out, but it’d be intriguing to see it bloom back to its original place. you’d feel the warmth underneath the buttery skin, maybe even feel the pulse of a heartbeat. god, what you’d give to just—

“y/n?”

you jerked, eyelids fluttering as you processed where you were and why sarah was holding a large bowl out to you. the contents were leafy greens with pops of orange and yellow peppers. a few cherry tomatoes poked from under the blanket of lettuce. right, you thought, dinner. on the cameron’s boat. where you’d been for the past seven hours.

“you okay?” she asked slowly as your hands moved to life to take the bowl from her.

“mhm,” you hummed and picked out a good amount of salad to have. you then placed the tongs back in the bowl and held it across the table. catching sight of those veins from earlier, you swallowed thickly and flicked your eyes to a very interesting pepper.

“thanks.” sarah’s brother said as he lifted the weight from your hands. you swallowed again and sat up straight as the sounds of silverware scooping from dishes continued. once everyone had what they wanted and a conversation had started, you dove into your salad like it was your last meal on earth.

you stole a few glances directly across from you, your eyes skimming over rafe’s skin under his light blue t-shirt. it wasn’t helping that he was moving, making the veins pop more whenever he used his muscles in his forearm. you busied yourself with your food and nearly choked when rafe caught your glance. you thought you were being sly and not obvious in your stare, but you caught a glimpse of that tiny little curve at the corner of his mouth as he chewed.

you’d known the camerons for some time now, thanks to your parents mingling once you moved to the island. you had sparked an instant joy to having sarah cameron as one of your best friends and you loved her so much that it hurt even worse when you finally met her older, very infamous brother. it was like you’d been struck by lightning. you were left with a sensation you couldn’t quite put your finger on. sometimes it felt like the jolts of electricity whenever you caught his eye.

you weren’t in love. you knew that much. you were just very, very attracted to rafe. a perfect example would be your ridiculous obsession with the veins in his arms. god, why were they so addicting?

“what are you girls up to tonight?” rose, sarah’s stepmother, questioned from beside you. you chewed the food in your mouth, not quite tasting it as you waited for sarah to answer. you honestly had no idea what you planned to do during your sleepover.

“probably junk food and rom-coms.” sarah answered easily.

you were fine with the suggestion; it was usually what you two did during sleepovers. sometimes you’d sneak out to meet your friends at the boneyard, but it had been months since the last kegger and you weren’t exactly fond of the memory. maybe sarah would ditch you for a secret rendezvous with john b again, which would leave you in her room all by yourself. you could imagine yourself spread out on her floor, listening for soft shuffles in the hallway, and looking for rafe to come through the door. you shifted in your seat, coming back to reality on the cameron boat.

“when are we heading back?” wheezie asked, looking at ward at the head of the table.

“are we boring you?” rafe asked, causing your attention to shift from the youngest cameron to the oldest. and sexiest.

“i have plans tonight and to be honest, i'd much rather be anywhere but here.”

“you weren’t dragged on the boat. you had a choice to come just like any of us.” sarah said.

you looked at her then gauged wheezie’s reaction. she just sighed and sank into her seat. you pushed around a few noodles from the pasta salad rose had made earlier this morning.

“we’ll head out as soon as everyone is done.” ward said, reaching over to pat wheezie on the back of the hand.

sarah, wheezie, rafe, and you were on cleanup duty while ward prepped the boat to head back to tannyhill. you stacked all the dishes and brought them over to sarah at the sink in the makeshift kitchen. wheezie was on drying duty, leaving rafe to take care of the leftovers and cover all of the dishes back up. you watched for a moment as he picked up one of the dishes that was nearly empty and threw the rest out in the trash. you held your hands out for it to bring to sarah and he smiled at you.

“rafe!” you looked up at the sound of ward’s voice floating from above then over at rafe. “come up here please!”

rafe brushed his hands off on his thighs and moved around the table. “can you cover the rest?”

“sure.” you nodded and reached across the table for the pasta salad. a hot warmth appeared on your waist as rafe brushed past you, his hand touching your skin. you swallowed as the contact sent a whole heatwave through you and watched his back as he walked out onto the lower deck, his shirt brightening under the sun. going back to covering the food up, you turned around to bring them to rose who brought over the cooler. just as you did, you realized that rafe touching you had no correlation between needing to get by. he had perfectly enough space to do so in the dining area and kitchen. nothing was blocking his way.

—

“i'm really upset that i didn’t get to witness rob lowe in the 80s in person. like, really upset.” sarah whined with her hands over her eyes.

“he had no right with that hair and that stupid earring.” you said, arms crossed with a pout on your face.

“and that jumpsuit!” you both cried in unison then laughed loudly. st. elmo’s fire had been a whirlwind of emotions, strictly from rob lowe’s appearance. it just wasn’t fair to be born so late.

“okay,” sarah said as she snuggled further under her covers. “i'm exhausted.”

“no follow up with the outsiders?”

“say hi to rob lowe for me. night.” she said and turned onto her side with her back to you. the tv was still rolling the credits before you stopped it and got out of her bed to change the discs. you weren’t ready to sleep just yet. maybe seeing dally would coax you to dream of greased up characters played by actors who were now twice your age.

given that it was only eleven, it was too early for sarah to be going to sleep. usually she was all for staying up until three and munching on popcorn or playing a board game with dice. you knew she was only falling asleep early because john b had texted her about an early morning date he wanted to take her on. it was so disgustingly cute how quickly she wanted to sleep after reading his words. so while she fell asleep, you tried to focus on ponyboy and his dyed blonde locks instead of the veiny-armed off-limits cameron across the hall.

obviously, you failed. by the time it was nearing two and you already turned the tv off, you still weren’t tired. the ceiling wasn’t moving closer to you or providing any interesting details as you continued to stare up at it. your heart beat rhythmically throughout your body as you thought about the instance of rafe touching you today. you closed your eyes and felt his warm hand on your waist again, but then you felt it moving all over you. sarah made a small noise in her sleep as rafe’s hand was gliding over your stomach.

your eyes opened, his hand disappearing, and a huff leaving your lips. you looked toward sarah’s door, shut tight and separating you from her family, from her brother. you covered your eyes and rolled away from your sleeping best friend. you peeked through your fingers, looking where you last placed your phone and debating on sending an innocent text. maybe you could pretend you meant to send it to someone else. but maybe rafe would find it weird since you didn’t have a texting history with him. no, it would be too obvious.

rubbing your face, you sighed again and sat up. you needed a drink of water. the glass that sat beside you was empty from earlier and you and sarah had exhausted all the stashed drinks from your earlier preparations.

closing her door quietly behind you so you wouldn’t wake her, or anyone for that matter, you breathed a little easier and found your way to the stairs. about three steps down, you noticed a faint light from the ground floor, but you guessed it was a nightlight just in case anyone like you came down, looking for a snack or drink.

the tiled floor was crisply cold under your feet, sending a shiver up your bare legs and eliciting goosebumps on all exposed skin. you wound your arms across your chest for some semblance of warmth.

the chill you felt two seconds ago reappeared as you entered the large kitchen and found the source of the light coming from the fridge. it wasn’t a nightlight like you thought.

rafe stood there illuminated by the light, very shirtless and sweatpants hanging very low on his hips. you swallowed as you watched him munching on something.

“hey,” you whispered quietly so you wouldn’t scare him.

he looked over, stopping mid-bite. “hey. you okay?”

“yeah. just came to get some water.” you held the glass up as proof and stepped carefully to the sink installed in the island. rafe had a slew of condiments spread out on the countertop and you glanced over them curiously as you filled the glass. he had made himself a sandwich, the other half not in his hand sitting on a plate beside you. just as you turned the water off, his hand appeared and slid the plate over.

“you hungry?”

turning slightly and placing your hip against the island, you knew you needed something to lean on from the way he looked right now. as if you hadn’t just been thinking about him upstairs, it all came rushing back.

“don’t you want it?” you asked, taking a shaky sip from the glass.

rafe shook his head and swallowed his next bite. “i'd rather you eat it if you’re hungry.”

you looked away from him and picked up the sandwich, taking a small bite. rafe reached into the fridge and pulled out the pasta salad. fishing for a fork from the silverware drawer beside you, he leaned his elbows on the island and pierced a few noodles. you looked away from the muscles in his shoulders and took another bite in silence.

“it was nice having you on the boat today.” rafe said without prompt. you stopped chewing as you gauged his expression. “did you have fun?”

it was difficult to answer when he was looking at you as if you looked stunning in a tank top and sleep shorts. it was two in the morning. you should’ve been sleeping. but your heart leapt at his question.

“i did.” you nodded once you swallowed the next bite. you then thought about his hand on your waist and felt those shivers all over again like someone had opened a door behind you, letting the wintriest winter air in.

you decided on one more bite even though you weren’t hungry at all and now you were feeling rather nauseous with the way your stomach was rolling and leaping and doing all kinds of things. all the while, your heart started to beat louder in your chest. your fingers pulsed. rafe pushed off the counter, trapping the fork in between his lips to hold as he closed the container and put it back in the fridge. it was darker once he closed it, taking away any light so you couldn’t watch him as closely.

but once your eyes adjusted, you watched rafe come closer. you pressed yourself up against the counter, knowing that he needed to get to the sink when he took the fork from his mouth. you picked up your glass, taking a generous gulp. the water failed to distract you as rafe’s hand appeared on your hip, his chest brushing against you as he put the fork in the sink. your skin was totally exposed to his since your tank top had ridden up. you let out a shaky breath into the glass, your eyes closing momentarily until his hand disappeared and he stood next to you.

“why do you keep doing that?” you asked, your voice shaking a bit but you hoped he didn’t notice.

“doing what?” he busied himself with cleaning up the countertop. you stared at his back as he opened the fridge again.

“touching me.” you said. he turned to grab the packaged cheese, opening the drawer to drop it into. it annoyed you that he wasn’t paying attention or giving you all of his attention. “you’re either doing it just because or you’re trying to tell me something.”

rafe closed the fridge and gave you a questioning look. “you don’t touch people, rafe,” you clarified.

“how are you so sure?”

you wanted to groan about him playing dumb with you. why couldn’t he just tell you?

“because i've known you for a while now, at least i think i do, and i've never once seen you touch someone else.” rafe picked up the dish with your half the sandwich on it and tossed it into the trash. you stepped back so he could reach into the sink to leave the plate there. “so, what is it?”

“isn’t it obvious?” he questioned, frustrating you even further. you were getting confused, getting off track of trying to figure him out. you wanted to pull at your hair. why did he have to be mysterious all of the sudden?

“what do you want from me?” you questioned, hoping you’d get to the bottom of it. sure, you had ideas of what his answer would be, but you weren’t going to do anything until he told you himself.

your mouth nearly dropped open when he took your glass and downed a long sip. becoming angry, you reached up and took the glass from him, splashing a bit of water on his face from the sudden movement. he held in a laugh, water still in his mouth.

the grin fell from his face as you wedged yourself between him and the countertop. you knew you’d only done it out of frustration from his lack of answer. he was driving you crazy. rafe stared down at you, moving his hips away from yours very noticeably while his hands found your waist for extra measure. you looked at him almost daringly, trying to egg him on.

when he stayed put on his decision not to say much, you found your hands appearing over top of his. they were warm on your waist and under your palms. the hammer of your pulse started to feel like a cartoon character was taking a mallet and whacking as fast as they could to your insides.

you couldn’t describe how it felt touching rafe’s forearms finally after stressing over them hours earlier. if you had stayed a little while longer, you might have felt his own pulse through the vein. instead, you wanted to learn the contours of his biceps all the way up to his shoulders.

“this would be a lot easier if you just told me what you wanted.” you whispered like you’d done when you first walked into the kitchen.

rafe’s fingers dug a little deeper into your skin and his hips hovered over yours like they weren’t even there. you swallowed thickly and watched your fingers run down his chest, his torso that flexed faintly you thought you missed it like missing a sunset change color. rafe stayed still even as you traced his jutting hipbone down into his sweats. you lifted your eyes to his, finding his lips parted and slick. you licked at your own, watching his eyes never leave your face as you felt him through the fabric of his pants. he let out a shaky breath. his hips moved ever so slightly.

you stroked him once, painstakingly slow from the soft lift of his eyebrows. his eyes nearly slipped closed when his forehead sank to yours. it was as if he was so weak, he couldn’t stand to be touched. it made the mallet in your chest hammer harder.

the second time you stroked over him, tightening your grip a little, rafe let out a noise and shook his head softly against yours.

“what?” you prompted.

rafe removed a hand from your waist to catch your wrist. “not here.” he squeezed out and pulled away reluctantly before tugging you along.

you watched his back, taking in a few shaky breaths. you focused on controlling your breathing as he opened one of the french doors that led out onto the wrap-around porch. the air was cooler than the one you just shared with rafe. it was refreshing as it helped you relax. you heard a few chirps of the insects and the bloats from a few frogs somewhere closer to the marsh.

rafe led you over to the patio furniture. he sat down in one of rose’s white wicker chairs, creaking under his weight. he tried to pull you with him but wasn’t expecting you to sink down to your knees in front of him. he sat up in confusion, his hands resting on your shoulders as he watched you reach for his sweatpants. you needed them to come off, or at least be pulled down. you needed to taste him.

rafe’s hands slipped from your shoulders as he leaned back so you could tug his pants down. you bit your lip rather harshly as the sight of him. the whacking continued and sounded louder in your ears. you wanted to cry out of joy and laugh ridiculously at the vein running up the underside of him. you had to swallow to control the salivating, like a kid anticipating chocolate cake for breakfast.

the moon wasn’t even out, but you could see rafe’s arousal on his tip. you reached for it, wrapping your hand around him like a blanket. rafe heaved a breath.

“is this what you wanted?” you asked him, running your thumb over him and collecting the warm liquid.

rafe groaned. “oh, fuck. yes.”

you rubbed his thigh as your other hand moved over him slowly. the hairs tickled under your palm as you brought it all the way up and settled over his hip. you rubbed your thumb over him again, eyeing that vein that seemed to be taunting you now. rising higher on your knees, you looked up at rafe’s expectant and waiting gaze.

“tell me, rafe.”

you drew your lips between your teeth, waiting patiently for him to speak. he looked down at you between his legs and held back a moan as your hand moved over him. “i want you to suck my dick. fuck,” he panted in anticipation. “i want those pretty lips wrapped around me. please.”

you breathed in deeply with excitement, careful not to show it so you didn’t blow your cover of how badly you’d been wanting to do this. would he think it was ridiculous?

lowering your face closer, you dragged your hand to the base of him and pressed a kiss to his tip. you coated your lips with his arousal and wondered if he was coming undone at the seams. what did you look like, between his knees, on your own? you saw his hands reaching to grip the armrests at the precise moment you stuck your tongue out, finally tasting him. it was an innocent lick, probably showcasing just how anxious you were to have him in your mouth. but once you had that initial first taste, you were gone.

“oh, fuck.” he repeated, his chest heaving. you licked him again then traveled down the length of him in open-mouthed kisses. feeling that vein against your lips sent a large wave of shivers to your core. you hummed in delight to yourself without realizing until rafe’s hand appeared over yours on his hip. catching his eye at the right moment, you tilted your head upright, flattened your tongue on the underside of him, and licked all the way up that delicious vein. rafe’s face screwed up in agony, but you weren’t even done yet.

taking his tip between your lips, you applied the slightest bit of pressure. you swirled your tongue, moving your hand around him at the same time. “shit,” he said as his hips flinched off the chair in return, rutting into your mouth further. his fingers appeared at the side of your head, pushing into your hair. “fuck, baby, keep going.”

you did as he said, closing your eyes and willing yourself not to choke. you were unsuccessful as you gagged and recoiled off of him.

“go slow,” he coaxed and loosened his hold on your hair. your cheeks began to burn from the embarrassment. rafe rubbed soothingly into your scalp. you tried to relax; you didn’t want to stop now just because you couldn’t take all of him. you breathed through your nose and concentrated on taking him slowly. you took a little past his tip, sucking your lips around him. the second time, you took a little more and licked back up that vein.

“good girl,” he praised, reminding you that he was there and that you were doing okay. the phrase alone sent ripples down your spine.

minutes later with rafe’s grip on your hair not hurting anymore, he rutted his hips and pushed himself into your mouth. you took him, quite surprised at your ability to do so, but it felt good.

“y/n, i'm gonna come.” he gasped. the new opportunity had you rolling with determination as you moved your mouth over him. he groaned louder and for the first time, you thought about his sleeping family inside. god, what if you were caught? what if someone had already heard everything?

the possibility edged you on to go faster, to make rafe explode into your mouth. you then thought about tasting him, all of him, about how you’d have him in your system. it seemed weird almost, but you didn’t care as you listened to him coming undone beneath you and felt his fingers in your hair. he swore left and right just before you made your own noise, surprised, when he finally did come undone. he spilled into your mouth, coating your tongue. you slowed your movements over him, helping him through his high as his chest heaved.

you sank back onto your legs once you parted from him. you licked your lips, swallowing, and wiped the corner of your mouth. it was almost criminal the way you had the dark to hide your grin, like it was an accomplice. you looked up at rafe still lounged in the chair and felt another heatwave at the sight of him glistening in his lap. what you wouldn’t give to have another go.

“fuck.” he sighed to himself once he caught his breath. “where are you going?”

you looked down at him when you stood, adjusting your shorts. when you saw how he was looking up at you, you wanted to do everything you could to just crawl into his lap and stay there, to have the sun never come up. instead, you knew tomorrow had to come. “to bed. i'm tired.”

for a second, you pleaded with the universe to have him ask you to sleep with him. you wanted to walk upstairs hand-in-hand and close yourselves in his bedroom. you wanted to lay down under his covers, to have him touch you until the sun came up. but you knew you couldn’t risk that all in one night. you could wait, only if he wanted to.

⭐️taglist of beauties & babes!⭐️

@tovvaa​ @fttayla @dontjinx-it @moniamaybank @drewstarkeygf @cheshirecat107​ @jjmaybankzz​ @obxcunt @honeyyhemmings @dvakat @macey730 @twinklelilstarkey @disrecpectful @prettylilwolf-blog @jjcanloveme

[furikakyo]

a return to roots | 3

pairing: kita shinsuke x f!reader

summary: y/n is a rising star in the music industry, having almost everything you could have ever hoped for as a small-town country girl. now after releasing two triple platinum albums in consecutive years, you face the dreaded artist’s burnout… in order to recover, your manager suggests, you should return to your hometown in hyōgo for a long-deserved break. 

genre: socmed/smau, slice of life 

warnings/tags: timeskip!, mutual pining, slow burn? more like rekindling, slight canon divergence

masterpost 

You finished sending your texts to Osamu and sat back in your bed, tossing your phone aside and then pulling the covers over your head. As you tugged and curled into your blankets, your phone fell to the wooden floor of your bedroom with a heavy thunk. Cursing, you drew back the covers and reached over the edge of the bed, trying to find balance. All of the blood rushed to your face as you huffed, still attempting to rescue your phone without actually laying foot on the ground.

Once you finally recovered it, you sat back onto your bed with a heave, any sleepiness you had now gone. You stared at the ceiling, wondering what you should do that day. A hand fisted itself into the thick blankets as you tossed and turned, trying to find some comfort in your plush bed. You hadn't been able to sleep well the past couple of days, for whatever reason. Your neck hurt, your back was sore, hell, your entire body ached for some reason, restless and yet so tense at the same time.

You sat up suddenly. What was it Kuroo had said to you? You weren't sure.

"Ugh..." You buried your face into your hands, memories of last night's conversation rushing back to you; remembering how you'd started talking about Kita when you were nodding off. It had been over two years since everything between you went down. Why couldn't you stop thinking about it? You could feel the burn of embarrassment and shame behind your eyes, your throat beginning to close up. Sniffling, you opened your phone and scrolled through your contacts. Who wouldn't be busy? Your hand stilled, and your face brightened, if only for a moment. Kenma. He had a calm and comforting presence, which never failed to mellow you out. Plus, he didn’t really talk about emotions or feelings so he wouldn’t ask you about anything related to Kita, nor would you be tempted to talk about him.

You texted your bodyguard and driver, Ichiro, who agreed to pick you up from your apartment and then drive you to Kenma’s. Thanking him for coming on such a short notice and then reminding him to not text and drive, you got dressed for the day, choosing to wear your comfiest hoodie.

A few minutes later, your phone lit up again with Ichiro’s standard “here” text, and you were out the door, not forgetting to bring a hat and sunglasses with you, though. After locking the door and slipping your accessories on, you rushed into the elevator and then made your way down to the car.

The car ride itself was silent, as Ichiro seemed to have picked up on the mood you were in and decided not to comment. Although he was usually stoic, he always maintained a conversation if you initiated it, his responses albeit short. By now you knew that the brevity in which he spoke was not because of anything against you, however, but because he was naturally a quiet person. You wouldn’t have had anyone else for the job, though.

The car softly jolted you as it pulled to a stop, and you unbuckled quickly after realizing you were already at Kenma’s apartment. “Thanks!” you called out, opening the door yourself and then shutting it. You smiled and waved before Ichiro merged back into traffic, watching the car eventually disappear in the long stream of vehicles.

Feeling somewhat better, you entered the complex after buzzing in. and then made your way to Kenma’s apartment, knocking on the door and patiently waiting. There was a long pause and some shuffling behind the door before it opened a crack. Two large yellow eyes peered out into the hall, and then landed on you. The door shut and then opened without the door chain to stop it this time, and you stepped in.

“I brought my Switch,” you proudly announced, looking to the side of the corridor where Kenma was standing, a little hunched over and slouching. You held up your video game console, which was covered in skins and cute accessories you'd purchased. Some of them you'd gotten for free from Kenma though, who got sent free stuff all the time.

“Hi, Y/N,” he said, a soft smile on his face. He pulled half of his hair back with a hair tie and followed you back to where he streamed his games, settling into the chair that all of his fans could recognize by now. “We can play Minecraft, if you want. I haven't gone on our world for a while, so we could both go on.” Kenma swiveled to look at you inquisitively, waiting for an answer.

You lazily waved a hand at him. “No! Today you’re supposed to stream, right? I just crashed your place so I don’t really have a say. You should record and then if you have time after we can play,” you insisted, sitting on the bean bag behind his gamer chair. “I’ll watch or maybe work on my own world.”

Kenma thought about it for a few seconds, then nodded, setting up his microphone and monitors. “Last chance,” he mumbled, then put his headset over his ears, blocking out everything else. You watched in the background with mild interest as he went through his usual monotonous introduction, one that his fans seemed to adore despite its lack of flair. Perhaps it was exactly that what made him so endearing to the internet. Smiling, you glanced back down to your Switch, and opened up Minecraft.

Setting your phone down for a second after replying to Atsumu, you called out lazily: "Oiiii, Kenma.” After a beat of silence and no response, you called again, "Kenmaaaa."

He had been just finished streaming, and pulled off his headphones. "Hm?"

You sat up excitedly, startling Kenma. "When I move, you should visit! Once I get settled in, at least."

He blinked, looking up at the ceiling as if calculating the pros and cons. "Too many bugs," he finally responded with a small grimace. "And it's gross and hot outside."

At that, you broke out into a laugh, the heartiest and most meaningful you’d had in a while. His particular comment wasn't even that funny, it was just- it was just so him. Was your sense of humor breaking? “Maybe I'll be able to change your mind," you mused. "We can even stream a video collab with the both of us- we should try Animal Crossing!" You clapped excitedly, beaming. "Kenma, let's do Animal Crossing once it comes out!”

He squinted his eyes, scooting away from you and your blinding enthusiasm. "Fine," he muttered, hunched over his phone now. He scrolled for a few minutes before speaking again. "Did you see that we're trending? On Twitter and YouTube." Kenma handed you his phone, stifling a small laugh into the collar of his sweatshirt as he sat back.

"I did," you snickered, laying his phone on the table and lying back on his bean bag chair. "My favorite response is the one about the Kodzuken simps," you said, wiggling your eyebrows suggestively at Kenma and then cackling when he turned completely the other way from you. "Kenma, they're devastated!" You gasped dramatically and then draped an arm over your forehead, fainting.

He rolled his eyes at you, shaking his head. "Shut up, Y/N."

After your giggles died out, you saw him offering a controller to you. "Game night!" you cheered, accepting it and sitting up straighter. "We should get takeout!"

Kenma lifted a brow, as if to say why are you even telling me this? "Already on its way.”

The two of you chatted as you played Minecraft, Kenma being a little more open when his mind was preoccupied with gaming. He was, of course, much better than you, eyes glued to the TV screen which had been hooked up to the game console. "Has Kuroo told you who's going to the Olympics?"

You shook your head, then remembered that Kenma wasn't looking your way. "No," you replied slowly, focused on getting out of the water so you could escape the mobs that were chasing you. "But a few of the boys from Inarizaki are. As for Kuroo, I think he was going to say something, but I fell asleep last night. He said something about you and an advertisement, though?"

Kenma smiled, finally breaking his gaze with the screen and looking at you. "Hinata Shōyō from MSBY is collabing with me, to promote the 2020 Olympic games."

Your eyes lit up in recognition. "That's right! Atsumu is teammates with him. I haven't talked to him one-on-one, though. He seems sweet!"

Kenma turned his attention back to the TV, where he was almost done building a house. "He played volleyball in high school too. They beat Inarizaki his first year at Nationals."

You stopped to think, your hands stilling on the controller. Your breathing slowed. In your third year, Inarizaki hadn't progressed further into Nationals, like everyone predicted. Despite being assistant manager, you hadn't thought it would be a big deal to miss their first match in the competition; assistant managers weren’t even allowed on the actual court anyways. You had all thought you were going to get further. You had thought you would get to see your boys play one last time. You had thought you would get to see Kita lead his team to Nationals, as team captain.

You had missed out on that opportunity for signing a record deal.

Beside you, Kenma noticed how quiet you'd gotten but didn't comment, instead going to the door when the buzzer notified him of their takeout delivery. You picked at a loose string on your hoodie, remembering why you didn't often go to Kenma when in distress. While you knew he cared about you and your wellbeing, you also knew that heart-to-heart conversations weren't his strong suit. When he returned a few moments later with your favorite foods, you pushed down the eruption of guilt and self-loathing with a bright smile. "Sorry, what were we saying? Something about Kuroo..." You strained to keep your eyes crinkled and happy.

Kenma's brow furrowed. "Kuroo-"

You interrupted him, and he let you. "Oh yeah! Kuroo and I are gonna hang out on Thursday! Wanna come? I'm leaving Saturday morning, so unless I see you before then, this will be the last time you see me before I leave for Hyōgo."

You watched his face run through a couple of emotions before settling on contemplation. Kenma blew a wisp of stray hair from his eyes and then begrudgingly: "Sure..."

This time, you gave him a true smile and clapped excitedly. "Yay! Should we try to get some of the others to join us? Lev? I want to be able to say goodbye to all of you in person, if possible." Then, swiping the plastic bag from Kenma, you opened the bag hurriedly and began pulling out things. "Here are the plates... and the chopsticks..." You set everything out and then let him load his plate with food first. Soon after, the two of you were back to playing Minecraft, squabbling over who got to use what equipment. After Kenma finally relented and let you have first pick, the both of you set out to fight the swarms of mobs gathered near your shared house.

"Hey, Y/N."

You had looked away for only a couple seconds, but you were blown up by a Creeper. "BITCH," you screeched, "I just fucking died?!"

Kenma snickered, running past your character and stealing everything you'd left behind. You gasped even louder. "BITCH-"

a/n: i said there weren’t going to be as many words as the last part but 🤡 also currently the fic is moving slowly and going day by day but it’ll pick up the pace soonish

taglist (pm me to ask to be added!): @papiibuprofen​ (i didn’t know if i should just respond to your ask publicly sksksk but i added you) 

some ~fun facts~

- y/n’s bodyguard/driver is named after ichiro, one of my fav baseball players

- his name in y/n’s contacts is “bonecrusher 👹” lmao 

- he is stoic but actually a softie; he’s about 30 and has a wife and one kid, both of whom he loves very much 

- i had kenma and y/n playing animal crossing instead of minecraft at first, then realized that it wouldn’t have been released yet, since this takes place in 2020... DAMN YOU TIMELINE

- do i have a map of hyōgo so i can write this fic? yes 💀

[bangtangalicious]

the glow up (6) | kth, pjm

pairing: taehyung x reader, jimin x reader

summary: after going off to college, you & your best friend committed to working out. a year later, the results show, and you cant wait for your hot hometown friends to see you. now all you wanna do is wild out and have lots of sex, and enjoy it without feeling insecure

genre: angst, smut, childhoodfriends!au weightloss!au (is that a thing) friends-to-lovers!au

word count: 3k

warnings: cheating, explicit smut: heavy making out...like HEAVY, in a pool, oral (f receiving), shower sex, unprotected sex, penetrative sex, slow burn, feelings, slut shaming, slight exhibitionism, alcohol use, choking, small daddy kink, taehyung calls you princess, swearing

part 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7                                                   masterlist

Taehyung let his feet sink into the water, warmed by the body heat from the many ex-classmates of his who populated the pool. He stared out onto the horizon, the suburban hills a largely underwhelming contrast to the party vibes. He felt a presence come beside him, and the overwhelming designer perfume scent let him know it was Hobi.

“What’s up champ? Got eyes on anyone tonight?” Hobi asked, placing his hand on Tae’s back playfully. Taehyung simply sighed.

He was playing a losing game. He knew from the moment he kissed you that it was a mistake. He knew you would pick Jimin in the end, and he would get heartbroken.

But somehow he couldn’t deny you. Whenever you would text to hang out, his heart would flutter. He did his best to make as much time for you as he could this summer, soaking up every word you said, every smile you sent his way. He knew you just wanted him to have sex. But he enjoyed your company more than you knew.

He was an idiot. He pushed you too far too fast, he understood more than anyone why you needed freedom to explore your body and sexuality. You had insecurities you needed to deal with. You weren’t ready. You never were.

“I don’t think so…maybe I’ll just double team with Jungkook” Taehyung faked a laugh. Hobi gave him a fist bump.

“Fucking Jimin almost started a fight with him, so I sent them and Y/n inside to sort their shit out” Taehyung felt his stomach flip.

“Oh yeah” He couldn’t even find it within himself to pretend to look amused. He was pouting. He didn’t even care. He knew exactly what Jungkook was likely going to make of the situation, and he knew you would let him. Jungkook, like him, was more promiscuous, and had a bad reputation behaving with girls, but he never expected him to treat an old friend the same way. He called him out, but Jungkook did not have any apologies.

“She likes it Tae. I guarantee it” Jungkook had said before Taehyung almost punched him in the face.

“I hate this” Taehyung muttered, tilting his head up as he felt his eyes getting wet. The prospect of you having sex with Jungkook hurt him a bit too much. He shouldn’t care, it was your life. You guys weren’t exclusive at all. He hadn’t been loyal to you either. “What the fuck is wrong with me?” Taehyung groaned in frustration. Hobi chuckled.

“You’re in love with her”

Taehyung clenched his fists. He hated that he understood what you were going through. He hated that he was able to read your every thought and understand your every desire. He hated what you were doing to him.

“You should at least tell her. She probably doesn’t think she has a genuine shot with you. Let her know her options.”

“She’s not gonna pick me over Jimin” Taehyung laughed, “Jimin is her best friend. She literally can’t go a fucking week without him. Even if she dated me, she would still go to him for everything because he knows her better”

“You should give yourself more credit. From what I’ve heard anyway, Jimin’s been sort of a little bitch to her about all this. Some people are just meant to be friends, others maybe something more. Let me tell you…” Hobi wandered off onto a tangent about his own relationship and Taehyung tuned out. He downed the bitter watery beer left over in his cup, mentally noting to go for something stronger next time. His phone vibrated.

jungkook: ur girls tits are fire

Yeah. He definitely needed something much stronger

You woke up slowly to the sound of a booming base, realizing quickly that the party was still going on. You tried to turn but Jimin’s cock was still inside you. You smiled.

“Jimin, wake up” You called out softly, reaching your hand to stroke his head which was lazily muffled into your neck. He mumbled something incoherent, the vibrations of his voice on your skin making you blush. His body was sticky with sweat and you were both a mess. “Let’s freshen up, I don’t wanna miss the whole party come on” You nudged him and he stirred. You slowly rolled away, his cock sliding out of you causing him to groan in frustration, reaching out blindly for you on the mattress.

“Where’d you goooo” He complained, his eyes finally opening slightly. Seeing your naked figure sitting besides him he simply couldn’t help but feel like the luckiest guy in the world.

“I’m gonna go freshen up.” You informed him, kissing his forehead slightly. “I feel gross”

Jimin sat up and cupped your face. “Y/n…wait…let’s just sort this out. I hated what just happened okay. I’m sorry but I did. I don’t want to share you. Be my girlfriend. Let’s fucking just date. I’m sorry I’ve been moody and a jerk, but beyond all that you know I adore you more than anyone in the world. No amount of distance has been able to get in the way of you and me. Let’s try this out. Let’s date”

The look in his eyes was pleading, like he was a frail piece of glass that was about to shatter. Your gut screamed no. Say no. But your heart did not want to see that light in his gaze fade. You nodded your head.

“Yeah…let’s date”

-

You found yourself back at the pool. The sun had set, and the rainbow colored lights made the place look magical. You really wanted to dance, the music was loud and the songs were perfect. You should feel happy, you finally had a boyfriend. But instead you felt like someone was choking you— you couldn’t breathe. You looked across the pool to see a drunk Taehyung splashing around wildly with a few girls. He wrapped his hands around one and spun her around, giggling like a mess. You wanted to be her. You wanted to play and goof off but you couldn’t.

Unknowingly a tear ran down your cheek. You put your hands in your palms, allowing your tears to fall freely. Why were you so unsatisfied? You had the perfect guy in your hands, so why were you unhappy?

You felt a wet hand on your knee, quickly wiping your eyes to see Taehyung in the water below you. He was shirtless, hair soaked, a drunken gleam in his eyes.

“Are you okay?” He asked sweetly. You had no idea how he was managing to be nice while he was drunk. Taehyung was a wild drunk, you knew this well.

“It’s okay, don’t worry about it” You stated dryly. You couldn’t bear to look at Taehyung too long, you just felt like breaking down even more. Taehyung sighed and pulled you into the pool.

“Let it happen” He whispered, bringing you into his embrace. He rand his wet hand through your hair before holding the back of your head and pulling you in for a kiss. “Don’t think. Just don’t think” His words brushed up against your lips. You moaned into his mouth, your arms finding their way around his neck, pulling yourself as close to him as you possibly could get. Taehyung held you tight and floated the two of you towards the back of the pool.

You couldn’t stop, your lips attached like magnets. He kissed you long and sweet, and you responded to his every move with even more eagerness. Your pulse races, and you felt a tingling sensation run through your chest as you shut your eyes, focusing on the hot feeling of his mouth against yours. He paused, barely aware from your face to inhale quickly. His sparkling eyes were gorgeous under the florescent lights, his pink hair almost glowing against the darkness. “Hold your breath” You nodded quickly as he captured your lips again and dragged you under the water.

The music went quiet, everything was still. All you could feel was wetness and Taehyung all over you. You let your hands find his face holding your mouth against him. Your lungs constricted as you lost air but you didn’t care. It was serenity. Taehyung’s hands moved to your hips and as if you could read his mind you wrapped your legs around his waist.

He picked you up and rose you back above the water. You both gasped for breath, smiling wide into each other’s eyes before kissing yet again. You looked around quickly to see that quite a few people were staring at you guys, which only made you smile even wider. Taehyung watched your gaze and giggled slightly.

“You just love putting on a show don’t you princess”

You turned to admire the man who held you. His soaked hair, gorgeous eyes and toned body. His lush lips and sweet voice. He winked at you and you felt your heart explode, blushing furiously. You buried your face into his chest in embarrassment. Taehyung motioned for the crowd of observers to leave the two of you alone as he rested his back against the pool wall, continuing to hold you close.

Taehyung stroked your cheek like you were a prized gem that he couldn’t believe he got his hands on. When your eyes met again your blood rushed and you kissed him furiously, whimpering softly. “Easyyy princess”

“I can’t get enough” You exhaled, barely able to speak. Your lips throbbed, swelling from the contact but you just wanted more. “Tae let’s get out of here. I want you” Your tongue traced his mouth and you softly bit his bottom lip, dragging it teasingly.

Taehyung hesitated, as if the liquid courage in his veins drained at the reality that you were not his to have. He could never say no to you. You were too amazing. He loved you far too much.

“Whatever you want princess” He playfully bit at your nose before lifting you out of the pool. You got out, water dripping from your clothes and helped drag Taehyung up as well. He grabbed himself a towel, rubbing it through his hair, and you almost drooled. He then grabbed another one and wrapped it around your shoulders so that it covered your chest.

Hobi walked over to the two of you, clapping his hands. “Wow what a performance. That was hot” He pinked your cheek playfully and smiled fondly. “You two are more than welcome to use my room” You stiffened, remembering what all had transpired on Hobi’s bed earlier. Suddenly the water on your body felt heavy. You felt gross.

“Think I could use a shower first” Taehyung stated, patting your ass lightly and squeezing it. He winked at Hobi who nodded. Taehyung took your hand into his and led you down to Hobi’s bathroom. Unbeknownst to Taehyung, you tried to hide your face with your towel. After all, Jimin was still around here somewhere. And you totally just cheated on him.

Hobi’s bathroom was as impressive as the rest of his house. The shower was spacious, clear glass walls and marble tile. Taehyung began to peel off his drenched attire. He then proceeded to undress you, almost tearing your tube top as it stubbornly stuck to your skin.

You had forgot how drunk Taehyung was but he reminded you soon enough, as your tits popped out and he went right to them, growling as he sucked harshly. His fingers found your clit and started to explore your folds, causing you to limply fall further into his embrace. He stopped to look into your eyes again, unaware of the heat soaring through your cheeks.

“Do you want to try something?” He said, his words beginning to slur slightly. You nodded and he smirked, pulling you into the shower, and turning the warm rain on. Taehyung dropped to his knees, pressing you against the glass wall and began to kiss your clit softly, letting his tongue peak through and flick against it. Your hands found his hair and your pushed his head towards you as he let his tongue slide out more, lathering you up and licking every crevice. Sensation was building up with every move and you felt like your chest would explode. It felt so good, but you missed the feeling of his body against yours.

“Tae…tae…kiss me” You pleaded. He spat on your pussy and used his tongue to mix his saliva with your arousal. You twitched as his he became harsher. “Tae”

He was not listening, too engrossed in eating up every last drop of you. He sucked, pushed his tongue into your core, pushing your thighs further and further apart. You felt your orgasm approaching, but you didn’t want to cum yet. You wanted to look into his eyes. You wanted to feel his lips on your body. The shower continued to hit your chest, rolling down onto Taehyung’s head. He rose up, licking his lips, with a feral look in his eyes. He grabbed your neck and brought his face close to you. His grip tightened and you squirmed, unsure of what he was about to do.

He watched as droplets of water trickled down from your forehead, over your supple blushed cheeks, down your bruised lips, off your chin and down the valley of your heaving breasts. “I love you” His breath hitched. “I love you y/n” He choked you harder, your breath escaping you. He let his nose drag against your face, from your ear down your neck. He bit into your collar, sucking your skin harshly to mark you.

“Taehyung I can’t breathe” You yelped. He released his grip and you took a deep breath. Your vision was hazy, the hot fumes of the water and the lack of oxygen pushing you into a feeling of light headedness. Taehyung wasted no time in pinning your hands above you and slowly pushing his now rock hard cock into you.

You couldn’t really feel what was happening, desperately trying to breathe as Taehyung bottomed out. His chest pressed against yours and his lips barely an inch from yours. Keeping one hand holding yours, he gripped your hips with the other and began pummeling into you roughly. He smacked your thigh when he felt you try to close your legs, your pussy sore from the harsh movements. He began to slow down, rolling his hips more so you could really feel his cock hit you in all the best places. 

Your pussy clenched, causing him to moan out. “Is my little princess gonna cum on my cock? Gonna cum on daddy’s big cock hm? Your such a little whore for me. You love the way daddy’s dick feels in your little tight pussy don’t you? Hm?” He growled into your ear, his words sending you further and further over the edge. His thrusts became slow but harsh, as he grunted with each one, feeling his cock go as deep inside you as it could.

A wave of shock washed over you as your reached your high, your body twitching immensely. Taehyung began to rub your clit furiously as he felt you orgasm, helping you through it. You screamed out with pleasure, Taehyung cooing at you to keep going. Your ecstasy did not relent, his rapid fingering pushing you straight into another orgasm causing you to yell out his name like a prayer.

Taehyung rested his chin on your shoulder, holding you with both his hands now and let you grab his hair. He pounded into your drenched pussy as you both continued to soak under the pouring shower. “Say it…tell me you love me y/n…or are you really just the little whore they all say you are” He bit the lobe of your ear, making you gasp out at the unexpected rush of pleasure.

“Taehyung…fuck you feel so good” You whimpered at the overstimulation. You felt Taehyung smile. What you couldn’t see was Taehyung head lifting up to make eye contact with a certain someone at the door of the bathroom.

Now fully awake from his nap, Jimin stood, shocked at what he was seeing. The way you were so intimately being fucked by Taehyung, the way you moaned out his name, the way your hands were clenched in his hair as water poured down on the both of you. Taehyung’s eyes were sinister. His smirk as he continued to whisper sweet nothings into your ears.

“Say it princess. Say you love me.” He mumbled, thrusting in extra hard and making you scream.

“I…” You couldn’t think straight, feeling a second high coming, “Fuck…more Tae more…I’m so close, you feel so good. Taehyungggg” You panted feverishly, “Yes baby, I love you, I love you so much. I love you more than anything baby ahhhh” The orgasm hit you, and your pussy squeezed Taehyung’s cock so violently that he came then and there too, all while not looking away from Jimin for a second. Taehyung then kissed you, continuing to hold you against the glass.

“I love you” You panted, cupping his cheeks as he kissed you softly. Jimin felt like he was going to throw up. He couldn’t see your eyes—he didn’t even want to. His heart was absolutely shattered.

He felt tears coming on strong. This was his soul mate. His best friend. Did she really not love him back? Was this really happening? Jimin clenched his fists. Memories of your sweet laugh, your endless nights with him talking about everything. You were home to him, and now he felt as though he had lost everything. Were you really that desperate for cock? That you would ruin your relationship with you best friend? Why didn’t you just say no if you didn’t love him? Why did you say you wanted him when you didn’t?

Jimin’s thoughts ran a million miles a second and he couldn’t hold it back anymore.

He dropped to the floor crying.

Who were you? Where was his y/n? Did this glow up destroy the beautiful girl he fell in love with?

A/N: next chapter will be the ending!! thanks for following along & all your support, i hope you enjoyed it:) wonder who y/n will finally go with....

<----------previous                                                         next----------->

Taglist: @honeyspillings  @hollowtree10

[tomboyneedshercoffee]

Lovedust Pt.8 || Peter Parker x Stark Reader

Summary: Y/N and Josh talk things over about where they stand as Y/N tries to build the courage to confess to Peter. One night on top of the roof, Y/N and Peter reveal any secrets they’ve been keeping from each other. 

Word Count: 5k

Author’s Note: This is technically the last part of Lovedust but there will be an epilogue. I was going to go a whole different direction and make it too angsty because sometimes, life works out that way but you guys deserve a happy ending ;) This series was only meant to be about three parts long but because of ow supportive and kind you all have been, I just have no words except thank you all so much. I will give a better thank you for the epilogue  but until then, enjoy the chapter. 

Warning: adult language

part one || part two || part three || part four || part five || part six || part seven || part eight || epilogue 

You stared up at your bedroom ceiling quietly, picking at the stitching of your blanket to the point where you had about four inches of loose thread massaged between your thumb and middle finger.

Three minutes. 

Peter was presumed dead for three minutes as you were giving him CPR that was literally a race against the clock. One hundred eighty seconds was the span between life or death and you couldn’t help but think of what if you had stopped after a minute? What about one hundred and seventy-nine seconds?

Three minutes. Your mind was so fucked that the only thing you could compare the time to was that Peter was dead longer than the time it took to pop a bag of popcorn in the microwave.

You thought back to the time where you had gone to California with Tony where you were alone in the hotel room while he had a conference. You remembered how scared you felt when the ground started to shake underneath you as the earth rolled underneath.

That earthquake must’ve only lasted fifteen seconds tops and yet, you felt like it was an eternity of shielding yourself underneath one of the desks that would’ve surely broken if the roof caved in overhead.

It’s odd how times works, whenever you’re in a dangerous situation, your body literally slows downtime so you can have the best chance at survival. So while those three minutes didn’t seem like a long time, the lingering fear of losing Peter after everything sent your body through emotional distress like no other.

It felt like a cruel joke; you had only come to realize you were in love with him when he was dying in front of you. What was even crueler was that even though everything seemed less complicated now that you really understood how you felt about him, it was only the tip of the iceberg.

It had been a few days since you had seen Peter since the night of the party and you felt like you were slowly losing your sanity. Your dad tried convincing you that Peter needed to be monitored for a while but maybe he just wanted you two to stay away from each other since you practically almost killed him by kissing Josh.

You loved Peter and he “loved” you yet once he was cured, he wouldn’t share the same feelings for you. What would happen once he was cured? How different would things be between you, especially since you would be having feelings for someone who doesn’t love you back? 

Loving someone who surely wasn’t in love with you felt like a whole new level of self-destruction.

Your phone rang from underneath your pillow and temporarily interrupted your thoughts. You reached under the pillow to pull out your phone to find that Josh was calling you. 

You inhaled sharply as you practically leaped out from under your covers, unsure of what to do. 

The last you heard from Josh was the night of the party but just like Peter, you hadn’t seen or spoke to him since. That wasn’t the full truth, Josh had been texting you to make sure you were okay but you didn’t have the strength to even reply to his worried texts. 

Poor Josh. He felt like an innocent bystander who got hit in the crossfire of what was going on between you and Peter.

In past relationships, you were like Josh. Your past boyfriends seem to always treat you as a rebound, a backup in case things went south and as gross as it made you feel, it was like you could sort of understand why your exes felt that way.

You didn’t want to lead Josh on, he was too nice of a guy to deserve that type of treatment. Your thumb hovered over the screen and you answered his call at the last second. He deserved that at the least.

“ Hey sorry, I was um, preoccupied. Is everything okay?” You asked as you started to pace your room.

“ I was going to ask the same for you. You haven’t been answering my texts and I was getting worried.”

You bit the inside of your cheek as a wave of guilt washed over you,” Y-Yeah I’m sorry. I’ve just been going through some stuff. I didn’t mean to worry you.”

“ You don’t have to apologize, I get it. I’ve been meaning to talk to you about something in person, are you doing anything at the moment? 

You rolled your shoulders back as you let out a deep sigh. In all honesty, you didn’t feel like leaving your room but if you were going to pick Peter over Josh, you also would have to owe him an explanation.

“ Okay, where do you want to meet?”

“ We can meet outside your complex, I don’t want to inconvenience you.”

“ Oh that’s probably easier anyway, when are you gonna come over?” You asked as you fell backwards onto your bed.

“ Um...I’m already outside.”

Your eyes widened as you scrambled over to your window to squint out towards the entrance. Sure enough, if you squinted really hard, you could make out Josh’s car outside the front gate.

“ Oh fuck! Sorry um, I’m coming out now!” You didn’t bother to let Josh respond as you hung up the phone and practically rushed out of your bedroom.

You practically sprinted across the front lawn all the way to the entrance and once you opened the gate, you leaned your body against the side of Josh’s car to help catch your breath.  

“ You didn’t have to run all the way here, I could’ve waited,” Josh said with a smile as he watched you struggling.

“ I know,” You huffed as you felt yourself calm down,” but it would have been awkward if you just stood there for five minutes and watched me walk the whole way.”

“ Okay, that’s fair,” Josh chuckled as he leaned against the side of his car beside you,” I wanted to talk to you about the night of the party. I just want to make sure you’re okay and I’m sorry if I overstepped by kissing you. I didn’t mean to make you feel uncomfortable.”

You felt your heartstrings tug at his words as you looked down at your flip flops. You didn’t know how to explain to him that he wasn’t the one who overstepped but that the kiss was never supposed to happen. 

“ You don’t have to apologize Josh and you didn’t make me uncomfortable at all. It’s just...I know how you feel about me and don’t get me wrong, I’m so flattered that you actually like me because to be honest, you’re way out of my league but um,” You awkwardly rubbed your sweaty hands against your pajama bottoms and let out a shaky breath,” I thought things were fine and that they would go back to normal but um, things kinda just happened and you were there and I thought hey he’s cute, like super cute, and Kim was being so pushy-”

“ I know you have feelings for Peter, it’s okay Y/N,” Josh interrupted as he took a moment before wincing,” I didn’t mean to interrupt you but I had a feeling that’s where you were heading with it. Plus you ramble when you’re nervous and I don’t want you to say something embarrassing. ”

Bless his soul, Josh really would be the death of you.

“ Is it that obvious I like him?” 

“ Painfully obvious yeah. I kinda figured you two had something going on but after you gave him CPR and you two gave each other that look, that’s when it all clicked for me,” Josh said as you felt the tips of your ears get hot.

“ Josh, I am so sorry. I really mean it when I say that you’re the sweetest guy I have ever met and I really do wish you the best,” You answered honestly and you felt even guiltier when Josh only shrugged, a small smile tugging at his lips.

You couldn’t believe that even now as you were telling Josh you didn’t share feelings for him that he was still being incredibly sweet towards you. 

“ Same goes for you, I hope he treats you the way you deserve to be treated. I have to be honest and say that I can’t get rid of my feelings for you overnight but hopefully we can be friends somewhere along the line,” Josh offered as you felt your heart snap in two.

As you looked back at Josh, that’s when you could really make out the distinct difference between the two boys. You weren’t sure if what Josh was saying was truthful, he was harder to read than Peter and even though his mouth was saying one thing, you could see that there was some pain behind his brown eyes that told a different story. 

Yet nonetheless, you admired that Josh, despite having the full right to completely guilt you and make you feel like shit because of what happened, still chose to put any malicious intent aside for your own good.  

“ Is it okay if I hug you?” You asked as Josh returned a sweet smile, embracing you in his strong arms. 

Despite the heaviness in Josh’s chest, he felt his heart flutter at the feeling of your body pressed against his. The hug was short but even in those few seconds, Josh felt himself trying to take a mental picture of this moment, something he would replay over and over as he did his best to get over you. 

After Josh had left, you made your way back into your cave and hid out in your room for the rest of the night. You had school first thing in the morning and yet, you found yourself tossing and turning yet again. 

To cure your restless mind, you left your room and headed into the kitchen to make tea. You were never the type to drink tea but you didn’t have the patience to just lay in bed, at least this way you were occupying your mind with something else.

As the water boiled, you kept your eyes on Peter’s bedroom door, your knee bouncing up and down as if you were anticipating him opening it. You wondered how he was feeling, considering he almost died and all.

You just wished you could have the confidence to just go up and talk to him, to admit that it was him all along and that you chose him. 

You poured the tea into a mug and cradled it in your hands carefully as a pair of feet made their way into the kitchen. You turned around, anticipating Peter’s face but instead, you looked up to see your dad.

“ You didn’t hear it from me but Peter is up on the roof waiting for you. Just in case if you were wondering,” Tony said as he nonchalantly dragged his finger across the countertop and peeked his head towards your tea,” aren’t you glad I made you learn CPR? I know it was part of your lifeguard course but I’m glad it came in handy.”

“  Too soon,” You sighed as you watched your dad haphazardly look through the cupboards,” and I wasn’t wondering about Peter. I’m just minding my own business and then I’m heading to bed.”

“ Minding your own business? That’s not the Y/N I know.”

“ Well, what would the Y/N you know do?” You asked as you looked down at the inside of your mug,” am I supposed to just run over to the roof and profess my love for him?” 

Tony furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head,” I never said anything about love kiddo but the Y/N I know loves to talk so yeah, I expect some emotional reunion of the sort. You’ve always been known to be a bit theatrical.”

“ And who do you think I get that from?”

“ The one and only Potts,” Tony chuckled as a small smile crept onto your lips,” I don’t know what to say because I don’t think I can bring myself to give my daughter relationship advice about a guy who lives only a few doors down. If anything, it’s against my best interest but I will make this the one exception where I will intervene simply because if I don’t, no one else will. I think you should talk to Peter. He’s been through a lot and he has some things he needs to talk to you about.”

” Well he’s the one avoiding me so maybe he should come over and say it to my face,” You didn’t know why you turned so aggressive but you took a small sip of your tea to try and ease your nerves,” I know he’s been through a lot but we both have. That night of the party was just...too much for me. ”

“ You really are my daughter, always making it about you. You gotta give the kid a break.”

“ I- Dad it is all about me. That night fucking-not sorry- sucked and I don’t know what else to say. I jumped into a pool with my clothes on and I thought Peter was dead-”

“ But he’s not dead. He’s alive and breathing and waiting for you on the roof like I told you,” Tony interrupted as you exhaled slowly,” you love him, it’s a fathers worst nightmare but even I can see clear as day that you have feelings for him, are you going to tell me I’m wrong?”

You liked to think you knew yourself better than anyone else and for the most part, it was true. Tony was probably the closest to knowing who you really were as a person and yet, everything he was saying still wasn’t enough to make you less paranoid.

“ I wouldn’t say you’re wrong but I’m too scared to say out loud that you’re right,” You said as Tony rolled his eyes,” what? What did I say?”

“ You love to talk and yet, you never say enough. I don’t have the patience to stand here and listen to you beat around the bush,” Tony kneeled down towards one of the cupboards and grabbed a bottle of whiskey from the shelf,” you have a problem. Let me know how things go with Peter. Or don’t. I’ll find out anyway.”

You stood there, mouth wide open as you watched Tony playfully bump into your shoulder, what a bastard,” Yeah sure! You’re the one drinking at three am but I’m the problem?”

Tony only gave you a hasty wave before turning the corner to where the elevators were, leaving you alone in the kitchen. He was right, everything he was saying made perfect sense and yet, it annoyed you on how right he was.

You had absolutely no idea how to start a conversation with Peter now that you were sure of your feelings and yet, all you wanted to do was find him and reveal everything to him. You looked between your bedroom door and the elevators. You could either go back to bed or you could talk to Peter and nervously choke on your words like a schoolgirl.

Fuck no.

You walked over to your room with your mug in one hand but before you could open the door, your legs started to move in the direction of the elevators, seemingly with a mind of their own.

Fuck it.

You stepped into the elevator and made your way up the floors until you hit the roof access. You hardly spent any of your time on the roof since you had no reason to ever be up there in the first place but once you opened the door,  you were immediately taken aback.

The greenroof took up almost half of the roof itself, the addition being nothing more than a general garden area to look aesthetically pleasing from the sky. Since most of the energy needed to run the facility was either solar or space related, the greenroof was more of a private garden that didn’t account for energy efficiency.

A mixture of moss and summer grass covered the roof in a thick blanket that never grew beyond the border of the garden and at first glance, the brightly freckled flowers planted along the pathway seemed random but as you walked down the graveled path, you could tell that there was some element of planning that went along with it.

Along the pathway stood different hues of green bonsai trees that stood tall and proud in their wooden boxes. You were so focused on the bonsais that you didn’t notice Peter sitting on one of the benches about a couple of yards away.

Your breath hitched in your throat but your feet continued to crunch along the graveled pathway as you made your way over to him. From Peter’s spot underneath the patio, he could hear you walking towards him but kept his eyes looking straight forward, unable to tear them away from the cityscape in the far distance.

You hesitantly took a seat beside Peter on the wooden bench and tucked your legs back so you could rest the mug on your thigh. The lights that Peter had strung up a few weeks back had lost it’s brightness, leaving behind a faded orange glow in its place but it was just the right amount of light needed to where you could read his expression carefully.

“ How are you feeling?” You asked quietly as you attempted to get a feel for what mindset Peter was in.

“ Good, I feel good,” Peter said back, almost quieter than the volume you started out with,” how are you feeling?”

While both of your minds were racing at the thought of the other person, the thoughts suddenly felt almost too personal, the atmosphere being instantly filled with the conversations you two weren’t having.

Out of the two of you, Peter felt like he had more to share and yet, more to hide. You were still completely clueless on the following; A) Peter was cured B) You cured him because of the kiss and C) He loved you back

It seemed like a dream come true, Peter was still in love with you without the lovedust and you felt the same way towards him and yet, he was still terrified. As everything began to feel more and more real, suddenly the idea of being with you made his chest tighten up.

He never knew if he could ever admit it outloud but he was scared that you liked him back because what if after all this time, after all the trials and tribulation the two of you had gone through, what if you two still didn’t work out?

There was so much history between the two of you and he was worried that all of the heartbreak and pining wouldn’t be worth it in the end. He loved you so much to where he knew that he needed you no matter what. It only hurt him more to think that from your last argument, you couldn’t even bring yourself to admit to him that you loved him. 

Now that you were here in front of him, Peter would make sure you wouldn’t leave without hearing you say it back. 

As Peter tried to carefully put his thoughts in order like he had practiced, you thought back to what your dad had told you and decided that you needed to start somewhere and you had to do that by being honest.

“ I’ve been struggling these last couple of days with what happened at the party. I can’t tell how you guilty I feel for putting you through so much pain and I wish I could take it all back. I feel so guilty because it was my fault you died- did you know that? I know the paramedics talked to you but you were dead for three minutes Peter and honestly, that was one of the worst moments of my life. I mean it’s up there with what happened to my parents,” You paused as you remembered to take a breath,” I don’t know what I would’ve done if something had happened to you.”

Peter felt his mouth dry up and for a moment, it was hard to swallow,” You didn’t kill me, you saved me. I still feel like I might be in shock from it all but I don’t blame you for anything that happened. I’m sorry I even put you through that cause I’m sure it was...a lot. But don’t ever say that you killed me, none of it was your fault.”

“ It was my fault. If it wasn’t for me and Josh-,” You stopped yourself before saying more. You didn’t want to talk about Josh, all you cared about was Peter but now, the thought was evident in Peter’s mind and he couldn’t seem to shake it out of him.

The image of you kissing Josh replayed in Peter’s head over and over again as his heart ached. Josh made things more complicated than they already were.

Peter’s biggest fear was losing you but to lose you to another guy? And yet, it still made Peter feel like he was between a rock and a hard place because Peter had only meant Josh on one occasion and it was enough to give Peter an idea that Josh didn’t have cruel intentions towards you.

Just because you loved Peter didn’t mean that you didn’t have feelings for Josh and that’s what made Peter crazy. You must’ve liked Josh enough to return the kiss right?

“ He’s a good guy, I see why you like him,” Peter finally said as he shifted awkwardly in his seat, not knowing what else to say,” he would make you happy.”

The comment shakes you in an uncomfortable way, was that supposed to make you feel better? Your annoyance was jealousy in disguise, you didn’t want to talk about Josh, you were here to tell Peter how you actually felt about him but because of how Peter was delivering it, it seemed like he was giving you an out.

“ It’s not- I don’t like Josh like that.”

“ You kissed him, I saw the whole thing. Do you just go around kissing people you supposedly don’t like?” Peter couldn’t help himself and let the words slip out so easily.

It was a low blow and the two of you both knew it. 

It took every fiber of your being not to lash out at the accusation because you knew Peter had a right to be upset but you didn’t like what he was insinuating and you didn’t want the conversation to take a bad turn,” You don’t have to worry about Josh anymore. If you want me to be honest, yes, I thought there was something there but things changed. I came to talk to you because my dad said you needed to tell me something important but if you’re going to just sit here and belittle me, I’m not gonna take it. I get it, the lovedust is messing with your emotions but I’m extremely sensitive tonight, more than usual so just come back to me when you’re calm.”

You got up from your seat with a quickness but before you could step off the patio, Peter grabbed your wrist and pulled you back towards the corner of the bench.

Peter felt like such an idiot, whenever he got anxious on the fine details, he had a tendency to let the big picture escape him but it was something he knew he needed to work on while he was around you. He wasn’t going to let the conversation die just before it had started, he knew his big mouth tended to escalate conversations with you but he couldn’t let you go, not this time.

“ I’m sorry, I didn’t mean that. I’m just frustrated because this feels so one-sided. I never know what you’re thinking because you never tell me anything. You always avoid answering the question but I need more,” Peter practically begged as you felt yourself get a bit aggravated,” I am being calm but I’m desperate at this point. I need to know how you feel about me, don’t try to change the subject, I need to know. Tell me how I make you feel.”

Your tongue felt heavy in your mouth as you pulled your hand away from Peter so you could regain your thoughts without him distracting you. You were suddenly chickening out, you had never felt so nervous in your entire life and you wanted to tell him how much you loved him. You wanted to tell him what he wanted to hear but it wasn’t easy taking a step forward when you don't know where your foot will fall.

“ This is hard for me Peter, I’m trying my best and I’m sorry if it isn’t good enough but ever since the lovedust, the dynamic is different and you’ve changed. It’s so much to get used to because of...how I feel towards you,” You said as Peter let out a frustrated breath.

He hated this feeling of going back and forth, he didn’t want to hear any of it. All he wanted was to just shake your shoulders because in his mind, you had no reason to be hesitant on opening up to him,” The lovedust didn’t change just me, it changed you too! I was vulnerable and I opened up to you, I showed you how I felt about you every second of the day but you have given me nothing!”

Nothing.

That word made your blood boil because nothing? Just because it was hard for you to let your emotions out didn’t mean Peter was getting nothing back in return. Since he was infected with the lovedust, you had been doing your best to open yourself more to him and you thought you had been doing a good job.

After all those years of Peter belittling you and tearing you down, of course, you would be a bit hesitant to let down your guard and yet, you did it anyway. It took so much to get to where you were comfortable with Peter to be vulnerable, especially when you broke down from your nightmare of your parents.

To break down and crumble in front of Peter wasn’t an accident, you could only be that vulnerable if you knew that he could help piece you back together.

“ Nothing? I gave you nothing?” You spat as you felt your eyes tear up,” I saved your life! I gave you the breath in my lungs to stop you from dying! I don’t owe you anything, I don’t need to prove shit to you!”

Peter stood up from the bench and while his heart ached from seeing you so upset, he knew that he couldn’t hold back,” Don’t pull that with me Y/N, you know you haven’t been honest with me. We both know that we can’t live without the other so don’t act like you did me a favor by saving me. Why won’t you admit it, even after everything we’ve been through, you’re still scared to just admit that you might love me!”

And just like that, you felt yourself let go.

“Of course I’m scared! I’m fucking terrified Peter! Is that what you want me to say? Do you want me to admit that me almost losing you would’ve broken me? Because you’re right! Yes, I love you!” You cried out as you took in a shaky breath,” I love you so much it hurts me and I didn’t understand how badly I loved you until I almost lost you! All I could think about when I was trying to save you was never hearing your laugh and never feeling your touch and I swear Peter, if you died, I would’ve never forgiven myself. I’m sorry it took me so long to say it but I love you.  But none of it matters, you know why? Because you’re sick in the head, the lovedust is fucking with you and now it’s fucking with me!”

There it was, finally. After all of that time denying it and trying to hide your feelings to save your own sanity, you finally confessed. You had so many chances to confess that yes, it really was him all along. 

When he came into your room and comforted you through your nightmare to the two of you shouting at each other in the rain, you had always loved him. 

Even though Peter knew how you felt about him, this was the first time he heard it with his own ears and it was like hearing the symphony for the first time. Like your own soundtrack that swelled during the climax of the movie that was you and Peter, Peter could listen to you say it over and over again.

He didn’t care that most of your confession involved a string of swear words because, without them, it wouldn’t have been your true self. He knew once he admitted to you that he was cured, there would be no going back.

“ The lovedust is gone Y/N. When you kissed me- or saved me by giving mouth to mouth- the lovedust flushed out of my system completely. Banner did extra tests and he confirmed that I’m okay and back to normal all because of you.”

Your heart dropped to the floor as your eyes raked up Peter, testing to see if he was lying but he didn’t falter. This is what you were afraid of, confessing everything to him only to find out that he didn’t love you anymore but who would’ve thought it would be you to make him go back to normal.

And yet, a huge part of you was relieved because finally, the lovedust was gone. You didn’t need to worry about it ever screwing with you and Peter again but as you studied his expression, your chest felt heavy.  

You had seemingly set up your own demise,” Oh, that’s good...I’m happy for you.”

You felt yourself take a step back but Peter reached his hand out to softly hold yours. You pulled your hand away but Peter swatted your stubbornness away and held your hand tighter. He rubbed his thumb over your knuckles and when he looked back up at you, he felt his heart swell.

“ And yet, even though the pain is gone, I feel more love for you now than I have ever felt in my entire life. I understand what they mean when they say love hurts but if anything, it heals even more because you made me feel whole again. When you saved me and the first thing I saw was you looking back at me, it was like I was given a second chance to love you the right way, the way you were meant to be loved.”

“You were right, the lovedust made me fall in love with you but ever since you cured me, it was only a matter of admitting to myself that deep down, I’ve always cared about you. It opened my eyes and showed me that I will never have to look further in finding the one for me because you are everything and more,” Peter said as you moved your eyes from the floor to his figure,” I love you. I mean it. No exceptions, no strings attached, no lovedust required.”

Right then and there, you were at a loss for everything you could possibly hold; no words, no breath, no thoughts. Any resentment you held had shattered into microscopic pieces that would dissolve once crushed between something as delicate as your fingertips because he said everything you wanted to hear.

“ You love me?” You said quietly to where Peter made you repeat yourself,” Are you serious? Do you really mean it?”

Peter nodded and softly let out an ‘ of course I do’ as he brushed his fingers lightly over your cheek. He cupped your face gently with one hand as his thumb wiped away a stray tear,” Can I finally kiss you?”  

Peter’s cheeks grew red as you nodded and leaned into his touch, innocently brushing your lips against his. Peter dipped his head down to close the space between the two of you and kissed you so softly, you had to pull him closer to you to actually kiss him back.

Even though Peter was the one who asked, he felt completely unprepared kissing you back. He had imagined over and over how warm your lips would be against his but now that he was actually kissing you, he didn’t think he had enough self-control to ever stop kissing you.

You never knew a kiss could be innocent and yet so intimate but as his lips moved in perfect sync, any other logistics of the feeling went away because all you could think about was Peter. You practically melted into his touch but before you could savor the kiss, Peter pulled away breathless.

“ S-Sorry, I forgot to breathe,” Peter gushed as you smiled back up at him,” what does this mean for us now?”

You traced your finger along Peter’s wrist as you thought quietly,” I don’t know but we can figure it out together.”

Peter hummed happily before dipping his head down to kiss you and when he pulled away, he fell himself falling in love with you all over again.

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[keilemlucent]

lavender latte x (no longer canon)

NOTE: Chapters X and XI are not longer considered canon in Lavender Latte. 

...

(M (for now!) 

hawks | takami keigo x reader

ao3

||  series masterlist  ||

word count: ~4.4k

beta’ed: @hawnks​ (thank u!!! 💗)

the softness after the storm

warnings: reference to the panic attacks/dissociation of the last few chapters, fragile reader, mostly fluff. so much fluff. nesting too.

 ...

hello <3 ll is alive and well to the point where... i made another mega chapter that i had to split, so here’s the first chunk! just lots of softness, hurt/comfort and fluff. both of u need it. we all need it right now. find some comfort if u can loves 💗

(psst-- thank you all for sticking around for this series, i adore you all with my whole heart!!!!!!) 

||||||||||||||||||

After all of the noise and pain of the morning, Keigo and you stayed twisted in each other for a long time.

You both needed it, the softness and heat of the other.

You clung onto him, taking in big gulps of his smell and presence as he tethered you to earth purely by breathing and living.

 You were precious to Keigo, more than anything.

As tender as the time together was, he couldn’t forget that what preceded it was not only traumatic but induced by trauma. 

It worried him, to his core. 

That protective flare quieted, somewhat, but never truly went away. Keeping you in his arms, whispering new ‘I love you’s and being able to comfort you certainly helped, but he knew he’d need to examine that part of himself more thoroughly. 

It was new, strong, and ran deep.

His mental musings dissolved when you trembled particularly hard in his arms, his gut twisting.

He placed a few slow, kind kisses where he could reach, rubbing his fingers into the tension in the fat above your hips, “You’re okay, (Y/N), we’re safe.”

“A-are you sure?” You asked softly, again, trying to tug Keigo closer.

He nodded, nuzzling into your hair, “I promise.”

It worried him, how much reassurance you were asking for. He gave it freely, of course, as it was not only the truth, but feeling some of the tension drain from your body with his words felt good.

He knew you just needed to feel grounded. 

“I love you,” You barely looked up at him, eyes shining.

His heart ached as he gently pulled you closer, pressing his lips to yours.

It wasn’t a chaste kiss, something deeper, like those you had been sharing all day as you both unwound. 

You grabbed at his face, stuttering breaths into his mouth as he gathered you up by your waist.

“I love you too, dove. So much,” Keigo spoke between kisses, hands dipping just below your waistband, only to massage at any tension he could find. “I’ve gotcha’.”

You stifle something like a sob, cuddling back into him, your light trembling somewhat dulled.

 It felt good to say ‘love you’s to Keigo.

But, physically?

You felt like shit

Your hand and leg ached. The adrenaline lingered in your system, making your body shake out of your control and sleep impossible to reach, as exhausted as you were. That wasn’t even to mention the headache you had from crying for so long and the lack of food and caffeine in your body. 

Keigo smoothed a hand over your back, setting it at the base of your skull, “How are you feeling?”

“Gross,” You mumbled, keeping your eyes shut and mentally blessing the darkness Keigo provided. “Sort of awful.” 

“I can imagine,” Keigo squeezed your sides. “Do you want some water?”

“S-sure.”

Keigo immediately helped you sit up against your headboard, a fresh bottle of water pressed into your hand. You appreciated that it wasn’t glass, just an old plastic one you’d had hidden away in a cupboard.

You sipped greedily, the water feeling far too cold in your stomach. You frowned.

“I think I need to eat, even if I don’t feel like I need to,” You said quietly, folding your hands in your lap. 

“Would you like me to help with that?” Keigo asked softly.

You nodded.

Keigo hummed again, something low and sweet that made your eyes go half-lidded as you leaned against him.

“How about this?” He tapped the top of the water bottle. “I’m still stuck in my hero uniform, so I can run home and grab a change of clothes, sleepover stuff, some food, and whatever else you need and then we camp out for the rest of the day?”

The thought of being able to nest with Keigo for the rest of the day was heavenly. 

“You want to stay the night?” You asked, confirming, flickering your gaze up nervously.

Despite the dulling of it all, it was obvious you were still frayed.

It broke Keigo’s heart.

“Of course,” Keigo beamed you the best smile he could, pressing his lips to your forehead. “I’ll hold you all night, keep you safe, dove, the whole bit.”

You didn’t reply, not verbally. All you could do was sag in his arms, nodding and pressing small kisses to his covered collar bones.

“Can you stay a little longer now?” You sniffled, curling around him. “Just a little.”

His chest ached with how fragile you sounded. 

“However long you need, dove, promise,” Keigo pulled you close, into his lap and wrapped what he could of his wings and feathers around your shoulders. 

...

Keigo departed an hour or so later, sometime near noon. He helped you into the living room, draping a blanket over your shoulders and putting the plushie into your arms.

He knelt in front of you, squeezing your hands, “I won’t be long, promise.”

You bit your lip, nodding.

“Can I ask something?”

“Anything, dove.”

“Can I have one of your feathers, while you’re gone?”

Keigo’s heart panged so hard in his chest, it felt like a bell toll vibrating to the tips of his fingers. 

A few of his plumes fell into and around your lap, softened and rippling. 

“Of course, dove, bare minimum,” He pressed a few kisses to your knuckles. “I’ll be back soon, okay?”

You were already sinking into the cushions of the couch, eyes tired and wide, “Thank you, Keigo. I love you.

“I love you too, angel.”

He kissed your forehead before taking off from your balcony.

...

You were so tired. 

Quickly, you fell onto the couch, eyes half-lidded, but your body was still too restless for sleep.

You felt like human vibration, sticky and wrong. As much as the anxiety of the earlier day had died down, you still shook with the physical and mental aftershocks of it all.

It made you that much more thankful that Keigo was staying.

You were self-aware enough to be coming to terms with that you needed a fucking therapist. 

Not that that was a bad thing, but you felt a little dumb for not thinking about it sooner. As soothing as Keigo’s kindness was, you knew it wasn’t a cure. All the aches ran too deeply and personally for that. 

The thought was shoved off, the lingers of the trauma-spiral making your brain spin again.

You winced, curling around the plushie and Keigo’s lingering feathers. 

Still raw.

You shuddered, cursing that you still hadn’t stopped shaking, hadn’t stopped flinching— 

It’s not that easy, you reminded yourself.

You made a mental note to thank Keigo profusely for dealing with you in such a fragile state.

 Keigo had flown back to his penthouse, shucking off his uniform in favor of a pair of joggers and a loose, cropped sweater. His wings stretched up and out from the specially-made slits, still sparse from the day prior. Notably, taking a day off was probably a good thing for himself. He could still feel the aches of his own exhaustion, worse than its normal perpetual throb, from his recent healing.

 As he gathered his things around the penthouse, he was acutely aware of you and your physical state from the feathers he left behind. Considering he was practically on the other side of the city, the sensations were fairly dull, but undeniably there. 

The flutter of your heart and the shaking of your body were unmistakable and unavoidable. 

Keigo remained on edge, jaw set. There was a constant flood of newly unsuppressed feelings around you that he genuinely didn’t know what to fucking do with.

Mainly, the big, lurking need to protect you.

It wasn’t like his instinct to fix up the world and save civilians with a smile on his face. All of that was different, ultimately rooted in his primary goal of allowing himself rest— 

No, around you, it was the deep, carnal need to keep you safe.

Hence why the shuddering of your limbs against the faraway feathers was so hard to ignore. 

Despite how much Keigo wanted to call you, check-in despite the fact he’d been gone for maybe twenty, he took a moment to collect himself.

Carefully, Keigo took some pointed breaths, wings and shoulders sagging.

He could only do so much.

He knew enough about hurt and pain to understand that he couldn’t stitch you up, no, that was a terrible idea. Sometimes you just had to hurt before you could feel better.

Keigo made a mental point to stay with you through it all, to try and support and comfort you where he could, like he had been. 

It satisfied enough of that instinct that he could’ve purred.

He grabbed his phone, sending off a text before flying from his balcony once more.

 [birdboy <3]: hey angel ;^) i’m gonna pick u up some surprises

[birdboy <3]: good stuff

[birdboy <3]: i’ll be back very soon

[birdboy <3]: love u!! <3!!

 You smiled at the texts, taking a shaking breath and burrowing deeper. You sent off your own I love you, antsy with your lack of him. Ultimately, you wanted Keigo to be back soon, but being alone for a little while was probably good.

It allowed you some precious moments of self-soothing.

You were fine, you reminded yourself. Nothing in your apartment was harmful. You were safe, despite the adrenaline and remnants of fear.

Now was the time for rest.

You pushed off the couch, grabbing your crutches and started to make a plan. 

It wasn’t a difficult one, mainly scrutinizing the layout of your bedroom in conjunction to the size of your TV. 

Making your way to the kitchen was difficult, some fear still boiling in you as you approached.

You sighed in relief when you noticed the spotless sink and counters. 

Keigo must’ve cleaned up.

You reminded yourself aloud to thank him later.

Shuffling to a nook in the counter, you grabbed a small metal tin, two mugs, and two tea strainers. The tea blend you’d grabbed was one you’d been reaching for often enough that you’d started to just keep it at an arm's reach.

You popped the lid, sucking down the floral fragrance with a sigh.

Shaky as you were, you could do this much.

You gave yourself a little smile and got to work. 

 Keigo was busy as well, dashing around town to gather what he could.

He didn’t tend to... shop. Most of those needs were met with delivery services and online ordering as it tended to be so much easier than being the number two pro hero out in public and trying to be ‘casual’ with two massive pairs of red wings.

It was slightly better, consider how they were still plucked from the day prior. 

He flew from store to store, trying his best to be quick at dodging his fans, repeating that he was having a ‘self-care day’ in the wake of getting so beat up. 

It wasn’t really a lie.

His final stop, feathers towing a few bags behind him, was picking up one of your comfort foods, a smile growing on his face.

Keigo knew that all he was doing wouldn’t make you feel better in the way that a few fragments of him wanted it to. Part of him wanted to save you— 

But that’s not how people work.

And he knew that.

Instead, he’d just be there.

That felt far better than agonizing about wounds too deep for even you, their bearer, to fully perceive. 

Keigo shook his head as he neared your apartment once more, your sounds and movements becoming stronger against the feathers he’d left behind. 

 You jumped at the clear ‘thump’ echoing from your balcony, but were quickly soothed as the door slid open, revealing a soft-smiling Keigo.

He was on you in an instant.

Carefully, notably.

He was falling onto the couch next to you, a bundle of feathers resituating themselves to his wings as he tugged you into his arms.

Keigo winded his arms around your waist, pulling you as close as he could manage while peppering little kisses on your cheeks. 

As saturated and sticky as your mind was, his firm touch and the feather-light brushing of his lips made your body thrum in a pleasant way. His contact was soothing the fresh burns and you let it.

“I missed you.”

It was a mutual sentiment. 

He squeezed you, tight, a broad wing wrapping around you both.

“What did you end up doing?” You asked, voice soft and filled with a lingering weakness.

Keigo directed you with a glance to the several bags stacked by the door.

“I used a bit of my hero’s paycheck to treat you, a little extra comfort,” Keigo hummed, nosing into your hair. 

“You didn’t have to—” 

Keigo quieted you with a quick kiss, a hand dipping under your shirt to smooth up your spine. 

“Hush, let me spoil you,” His lips quirked up as he spoke. “You deserve it, you know. Not to mention, I’m more than able to.”

He wasn’t wrong. 

You’d subconsciously shoved down the thought, avoiding ogling at Keigo’s obvious wealth. He had to be loaded, money wouldn’t be an issue. 

You thought for a moment, turning over the idea as your anxiety stirred, the ambient quaking of your body picking up. 

“Today has sucked.”

Part of you felt guilt, overwhelmingly. 

Keigo had done so much for you already, physically and emotionally. 

It was a short-lived feeling as you met his gaze.

It made you feel so damn precious.

You’d seen Keigo smile for photos and on billboards, but it was nothing like the ones he gave you. His expression was all that warmth and honey that you loved about him, delivered through the melted-cores of his eyes.

And it clicked.

You said nothing, knowing that the conversation and implication of it all made your heart swell so much, it ached.

“Okay, just this once, okay? And you gotta let me treat you to some tea,” You managed a little smile, something small and sacred that made Keigo’s heart swell.

 Keigo followed you into the kitchen, shuffling to meet your slow pace. Each of your movements was clearly labored, but you didn’t seem as perturbed as he would've thought.

You hit a button on the electric kettle, fiddling with the stem of the pre-prepared mugs. They already had small, metal balls made of mesh, filled with what leaves and flowers. Set nearby was a carton of oat milk and a jar of honey with a homemade label.

Keigo blinked.

“Did... you put this all together while I was gone?”

“I did,” You nodded easily, eyes drifting to the bubbling of the kettle. “It’s the least I could do, you know?”

Keigo’s gut went into knots, a mix of things that were hard to parse through. Mostly, it was that chest tightening mix of worry and syrupy adoration that he wanted to drown in. 

Carefully, yet firmly as he could, he tugged your close by the waist, burying his nose in your hair, “You’re too good.”

“Says you,” You reminded him. “You’re the one who’s been doing the heavy lifting today, birdboy.”

Keigo gently scoffed against your crown, “‘Heavy lifting’? Bare minimum, as far as I know. I like being here and helping you, you know.”

You paused.

“You... do?”

Your words were punctuated by the click of the kettle turning off, the bubble of boiling water slowly dying off. 

“Of course,” Keigo replied after a moment of quiet, keeping himself soft. “Is that a... bad thing?”

 You reminded yourself that he was new to all of this 

“N-no, not at all,” You pressed into him, tighter, closer, ignoring the idle kettle in favor of giving Keigo some much-needed comfort. “It feels nice.”

Some of the tension drained from Keigo as his wings shifted behind him. 

“Good,” He dropped yet another kiss into your hair. “It... feels nice. Knowing you’re safe.”

“S-Same,” You stuttered, frowning into Keigo’s chest. “Are you alright, Keigo?”

 Your words startled him into silence for a moment. 

“I’m not bad if that’s what you’re asking— “

“Deflecting again, are we?” 

You managed him a cheeky smile, pulling back to nudge your nose into the stubble at his chin.

“I’m... really grateful you were here today, and are gonna be here,” You squeezed him tighter, hands resting at the base of his wings. “But, you’ve had a pretty tough last twenty-four hours too, you know?”

You weren’t wrong.

“It’s a part of the job, I’ll be alright,” Keigo tried to shush you, but you weren’t having any of it.

You cupped his cheeks in your palms, giving him a little frown, “Keigo, I love you.”

The new words got his heart stuttering in his chest. 

“I’m kind of fucked up right now, but I’m still here, okay? For whatever you need.” You reminded him, gracing him with a chaste kiss as punctuation. 

Part of Keigo wanted to tug you closer, slip his hands under your shirt and express how much he loved you, but he knew better.

There needed to be a moment of reprieve.

“Thank you, dove,” Keigo wasn’t sure how to fully accept your kindness, but with the smell of earthy flowers wafting and your small smile shining all for him, he was excited to try. 

 |||||||||||||||||||||||||||||

 The rest of the day was a testament to softness.

Keigo had some avian instincts, sure, but the Commission taught him long ago how to suppress the more bothersome traits. One that he had never been able to shake too well was the need to stay bundled up and warm— 

Nesting, as it was labeled.

And you were all for it.

 Keigo adjusted the TV on top of your cleared-off desk, tilting it so it was perfectly viewable from the bed. 

You were half-on your knees, booted foot extended while digging through the bags of softness Keigo had brought.

“These are so fucking good, Keigo!” You held one of the fluffy blankets to your chest before unfurling it. “Absolutely wonderful choices, I have to admit.”

“Happy to please, angel. I grabbed the comfiest ones I could find,” Keigo chuckled, mostly to himself.

He wasn’t the most adept at finding comfort, but he knew a fair amount about surrounding yourself with softness (something he’d been indulging more thoroughly in his private time, after meeting you, of course.) 

Something stirred in his chest as he watched you prop up pillows and arrange blankets over your mattress. With it up against the wall, you were able to create a little... nest of sorts.

Keigo’s’ dick twitched.

Calm down, it’s only a little bit cute— 

You clamored to the edge of your bed, outstretching a hand with a warm smile, “Come on, tailfeathers, I need your body heat.”

“That all?” Keigo’s chest filled with molten heat as he let you tug him down into the softness you’d made. “Just need me for warmth?”

You hummed, pulling at his forearm to topple him over your lap, “Nah, plenty more. Want me to tell you about it?”

His dick twitched again. 

Keigo mused on it, only for a moment. 

“As much as I’d love to hear your reasons,” Keigo braced his arms on either side of your head, ducking to whisper in your ear. “I think you need to rest, hm?”

It was your bloodshot eyes, shaking hands, and tired smile that gave you away. Though it was obvious you were in better spirits, exhausted radiated off of you, even if you managed to banter.

You didn’t put up any fight, only nuzzling into his cheek and trailing your lips near his own, “Maybe you’re right.”

“Just ‘maybe’?” Keigo teased, bearing more of his body weight down onto you. 

You didn’t reply verbally, just tugged him down by the waistband of his joggers. 

“It’s okay,” Keigo said softly, maybe the softest he’d ever spoken, “we’ll just rest.”

“Can you put on something for background noise?” 

“Of course, dove,” Keigo smothered you with kisses, littering your forehead and nose with affections wherever he could reach. 

As you situated yourself, Keigo now the one repositioning the fluffing and blankets around your bed, his mind wandered.

 The amount of vulnerability he showed you was scary, it had been since the beginning. All those subtle glances and remarks that went from weightless flirting to all-out love were new and terrifying.

Yet, Keigo craved it to the point of aching.

As you sipped your tea, nestled between his legs with your back against his chest, that ambient pain was dulled.

 Keigo rested his head against your shoulder, nosing below your ear, “How are you feeling?”

“Sleepy, now, less shaky,” You replied following a heavy, audible gulp. 

It was true, your body had mostly stilled its ambient trembling. 

He couldn’t imagine how tired you were.

He also was having trouble acknowledging how tired he was.

Keigo reached to take a sip of his own tea, the smoothness of the honey, oat milk and lavender washing down the back of his throat. The softness of the drink itself was pushing him closer to acknowledging his own exhaustion.

(That was, of course, part of the reason you prepared such a tea, but you kept yourself smitten with your solely known knowledge.) 

“Can we try napping again?” You asked, pulling him from your thoughts. The heat of your pressed back into him as you nuzzled the side of his face. 

“Of course.”

And so, you nested.

The mugs were set aside, the steam tapering off but still filling the room with aromatics. The lights twinkled dimly, the curtains drawn to keep the afternoon light extinguished. The TV glowed in the corner, moved from your living room to on top of your desk, something ambient and meaningless running to fill the quiet air.

And you held Keigo with all you had.

It took a bit of maneuvering, pillows and plushies being pushed and shoved. Maybe, on a different day, you would’ve been a little self-conscious about all of the softness you were shamelessly surrounding yourself with. 

But, that day? You couldn’t care.

As the shakes subsided, your body craved only rest. Keigo offered it up without and second thought, and you drank it in, him in, greedily.

You faced each other, held in the arms of the other, Keigo’s feathers having spread themselves across the ‘nest’ and floor to allow him to accommodate the space a bit better.

Your face was buried in his chest, your hands already snaked under his cropped crew neck and resting below his wings. Every so often, your touch would brush close enough to the base to make him shudder.

You loved how it felt, how he felt next to you.

That was the only real thought you could conjure up in the perfect mess of blankets and softness. 

Sleep took you easily after that.

 Keigo managed to stay awake a bit longer, thoughts restless but slowing. 

He felt a new sort of sated, now that he was curled up with you.

The two of you had cuddled plenty in weeks prior, but nothing that was quite this cozy. With his feathers scattered about the room and nest, blankets pulled up to your chin, for the first time in a long while, he felt truly at peace.

Mostly.

As tired as he was, his mind wandered as he idly stroked along the bare skin of your neck and collar.

He couldn’t stop himself from thinking about your state just hours ago, eyes uncomfortably full, yet vacant in the same moment.

Keigo knew how you felt. 

He knew how these sorts of things worked. The way the mind functioned in vulnerable states (and how to exploit them) was something branded into his mind. In the silence of his penthouse, Keigo was smart enough to put together that this was the reason he’d been able to be there for you in the way that he had been.

It was disturbing, thinking about the origin of his ability to comfort you. His roots being in his need to manipulate rather than comfort. 

Part of him felt sick with the thought, feathers ruffling and puffing up around the room. 

The things he’d been taught and the way they’d been etched into the marble tablet of psyche weren’t good. Even if he valued the skills he’d gained, he had garnered enough agency at some point to put together how the corruption of the Commission infected him. 

The thought made him feel dirty, which was why he pushed it back and away so often.

But, now, thinking about the way you shuddered and wailed in his arms, he couldn’t avoid it, an odd poison spreading through his chest. 

 “Hey,” Your voice slurred with sleep as your hands twitched at his sides. “You’re thinkin’ too hard.”

“And how do you know that?” 

“Your heart, silly,” The sound of it was loud in your ears, the thrum far too quick to be calm. “Sounds fast.”

“Caught me,” Keigo gave a weak laugh, smothered into your hair with kisses. “I’m alright. Get some sleep, I’ll be right here.”

“Nuh-uh,” You forced yourself to full wakefulness with a few unpleasant blinks.

You cupped his jaw and searched his face.

...

Keigo was far too good at hiding how he felt. 

From his painfully cleansed expression, it was hard to tell what exactly he was really feeling, only that he wasn’t expressing whatever it was.

“Keigo,” You breathed his name. “You deserve to rest. All you gotta do is be here, right now, okay? 

Your tired mind was one of its most honest iterations. 

 Weren’t you right?

 “I’m here, always, Keigo.”

“I know,” Keigo sighed with relief, softening against you. 

There was so much he couldn’t tell you, especially not yet. Too much knotted up and tied with himself that was too fragile, secret, or buried to be even acknowledged by himself, let alone you.

Not to mention, the Commission and the public had no idea you were a part of his life, and you intended to keep it that way, at least for a while. 

Keigo opened his mouth to let loose one last quip, but quickly silenced himself.

You’d already fallen back asleep, maybe even more relaxed, clinging to him with everything you had.

 He had always believed he would never let sentiment get his way. 

Even the word ‘sentiment’ felt dirty rolling around in his mind.

You weren’t just ‘sentiment’, you were love.

And he loves you. 

Keigo drifted off with his warmth and comfort knotted up with your own, relaxing, truly for the first time in a long time.

+++++

💗ko-fi 💗

++++

taglist: 

taglist (please send me an ask if you’d like to be added!): @thepandapopo @hawksexual @sinclairsamess @darcia22 @inhalingsoysauce   @yee-fxcking-haw @aproperthottie @seasalttrioforever @mia--merc @call-me-rhee @peach-buns-unicorns @amethyst-rose-17 @mega-bastard @an-untamed-rose @ravioliplease @keigosangel @gobestupidsomewhereelse @themusingsofmany @mariiloei @hecatve @assassinslittlesister  @thepuckishrogue​

[raysofcrosby]

37 and 45 for matty please!

37. “welcome to fatherhood” + 45. “you’re getting a vasectomy. that’s final.” w/ matty tkachuk

The one thing you and Matt both agreed on from the moment you got married and even before, was that you wanted to have at least, 4 kids. He grew up with a brother and sister while you grew up an only child, both of you wanted your future kids to experience life with a sibling by their side. 

And Matt especially had been eager to start a family from the moment the words “I do” left both of your mouths. He spent most of your reception whispering into your ear all of the things he had planned for the nigh, how he couldn’t wait to get you alone and just how excited he was for your honeymoon in Turks and Caicos— “I hope you don’t plan on leaving the room for the first two days...you know, adjust to the time difference and all.”

It was only an hour time difference between Turks and Caicos and your permanent summer residence in St. Louis, but Matt didn’t care— it didn’t matter, and the two of you definitely didn’t leave the room until your third day into your two-week honeymoon.

Which is why it was no surprise to anyone that you found out you were  pregnant a little over two months later when you were packing up to go to Calgary for the season. You were packing up some of the bathroom stuff when you came across a box of tests from your bachelorette party when it was decided the group of you would play “pregnancy test roulette” which thankfully— no one was actually pregnant.

But there was one left and instead of taking it with you or just leaving it behind, you decided to use it and see if maybe the back to back...to multiple back nights on your honeymoon and even then after, resulted in you being pregnant. Matt came into the bathroom, having stripped down to his gym shorts by the time he reached your bathroom only to see you holding the pee stick in hand.

“Is that?”

“I’m pregnant.”

He only stood there shocked for a few seconds before he swept you up into his arms and kissed you, the excitement shining in his blue eyes as he put you down and smiled. “We’re gonna have a baby.”

Your pregnancy was actually...pretty idyllic when it came to first pregnancies. Your appointments all went perfect, you were in good health throughout and even though at most times you were sure that your moodiness would chase Matt away at any given moment, he never faltered. He was with you every step of the way whenever the Flames schedule permitted it.

He took pictures of the ultrasounds to send to family, if he was on the road he’d always send you a text asking for a bump date, and then get a little cheeky asking straight up for a size check on your chest because he ‘wanted to see how the boobs are looking.’ He was loving, attentive and you felt more than lucky to be able to have him with you throughout.

You were sitting in the friends and family box at a Flames game when your water broke all over the nice fancy carpet floor of the suite. Both your Mom and Matt’s were helping you out of the suite, your last words to Keith before leaving for the hospital being “tell him my water broke, but do not let him leave this game!” A wish that Keith abided by and that Matt, when in an intermission, sent you texts worrying about missing the birth. You assured him that you doubted that you’d be having a baby in the 20 minutes of third period hockey.

The Flames won, Matt skipped media and came rushing to the hospital to be by your side, making it right as you were getting your epidural. Your families were in the room with you, waiting to pass the time and trying to distract you from your contractions. By the time you were fully dismayed, both you and Matt were escorted to the delivery room Brady yelling out via FaceTime that he hoped Matt didn’t pass out.

Out of all the books and websites you read and from the stories some of the WAGS had shared from their experience and friends experience, the pain was definitely worth it in the end. At one point, you thought that Brady’s chirp might actually come to fruition and Matt would pass out, since he was starting to look a little pale, but thankfully it never happened and his color returned once that small little cry erupted throughout the room, bringing the both of you to tears as he brushed your hair back and kissed your forehead, whispering small praises as you held the baby on your chest.

Grayson Tkachuk proved to be every bit his father. From the moment he was born— he was just always fussy. Fussy when he was tired, when he was hungry, when he was and and even when he was happy, he couldn’t stay still and couldn’t stay quiet. You were thankful that both of yours and Matt’s parents stayed around for a few weeks to help you and Matt adjust to parenting, especially you since right after Grayson was born, that following week was the Flames longest road series of the season.

Your late night FaceTimes with Matt and even the ones he had on free days, you could see that he was feeling sad and even a bit guilty that he wasn’t there to help you out. But you assured him that your parents were a great help and that if he felt so bad, he could change the first dirty diaper Grayson had the moment Matt came back. “Sure, it can’t be that bad.”

Matt came back late one night, your parents were all away in their guest rooms and you were struggling to fall asleep after Grayson’s last feeding. You felt gross, tired and in desperate need of a shower, but that didn’t stop Matt from cuddling you into the bed and kissing you endlessly.

“How’s my baby?” He mumbled, kissing along your jaw.

“He’s sleeping, thankfully.”

“No, my other baby.” He laughed, leaning up on an elbow. “You, you dork.”

“Oh, I’m—“ Graysons cry came through the baby monitor and you sighed, nudging him away and standing up. “I’m feeling like that.”

He shook his head and for up with you. “Come on, let’s go see our baby.”

You walked down the hall to Graysons nursery, his cries getting louder as you neared the crib. You knew what kind of cry it was, ready to tell Matt what he needed before he picked up Grayson and shook his head. “His butt is heavy.”

“Diaper change, Matty.” You laughed, walking with him over tot he changing table. You helped Matt get Grayson undressed from his onesie, Matt instantly gagging at the smell the was coming from Grayson.

“Oh my God, it’s leaking!” He groaned, shoving his nose into the crook of his elbow and looking at you with pleasing eyes. “He burst the diaper.” 

“You called dibs on the first diaper change of your return home. You smiled, leaning up and kissing his cheek as you patted his shoulder. “Welcome to fatherhood, Matty.”

++

Eight years and three kids later,  you’d become all too familiar with those signs of pregnancy— or so you thought you had. Grayson was a random positive pregnancy test, Madelyn was a ‘watch your period tracking app religiously’ planned kind of pregnancy and Sienna was not quite planned, since you found out you were pregnant with her only 7 months after having Madelyn.

You and Matt loved having the three of them so close in age—Eight, six and five— and while the three were also at each other’s throats over the smallest of things, toys, food, who’s car seat went where, they were also all extremely close. Most mornings, it wasn’t rare to find both girls cuddled with their big brother in his bed, or him sleeping on the floor in between their beds.

Their favorite time of the year, which also happened to be yours and Matt’s as well, was when both families got together at the Tkachuk’s lake house during the week leading up to the 4th of July. It was endless days of laughter, watching your kids play with their cousin and coo over the newest and smallest member, a baby boy Emma and Brady had welcomed only two months earlier, making their four year old son Tucker, a big brother.

Nights spent grilling out and enjoying the night summertime air only to wake up early the next morning to go out on the water— you loved it all. It was arguably the best time of the year.

Until the worst stomach cramps you ever felt in your entire life, ended up with Matt rushing you to the hospital where doctors listened to your assumptions of maybe it being your appendix. It was...a pleasant surprise when they came back and told you that you were pregnant before being told to relax while they brought an ultrasound tech in to make sure that everything was going okay.

“Pregnant.” You huffed, rolling up the tank top and stuffing it beneath your bathing suit top. “Pregnant! I was just pregnant!”

“Actually...it’s been awhile, five years. We wanted to wait a bit since Mads and Sie were so close in age.” He replied, spinning himself around in the stool. “And hey, with this being baby number four, we reached our goal.”

“And after baby number four, I’m staying celibate.” You mumbled.

You went back on birth control after Sienna was born, but it just never agreed with you. Through the last five years, you’d been through the implant, the pill, the iud— and all of them messed with your hormones so much that you and Matt went strictly back to condoms, much to both of your disdain for them.

“Alright, Y/N, I’m here to check to see what’s going on with your little one today,” the tech smiled, walking into the room. “Not your first rodeo?” She laughed, picking up the gel as she nodded at your rolled up t-shirt.

“Our fourth.” You replied, no longer phased by the cold feeling against your skin.

“Well congratulations again,” she smiled, turning on the ultrasound machine before picking up the wand. “I assume that you know what this is?”

You and Matt both nodded as she placed the wand against your belly, moving it around. “Can we do that thing we did with Madelyn? Guess the gender and whoever’s right gets to pick the name?” Matt smiled, holding your hand as he rested his chin on your arm.

“As long as you don’t turn it into a bet with your teammates.” You nodded, glaring at him. “I’m still not amused with the fact you almost let Sienna’s middle name be Sam because Sam guessed the gender correctly.”

“Sam’s not too bad—“

“Sienna Sam Tkachuk?” You asked, raising an eyebrow. “It doesn’t flow Matthew! If this is a boy, we’ll let him use his winning bet as a middle name, but no more bets with the guys.”

The ultrasound tech laughed as Matt started to blush. “Okay, agreed.” He said, kissing your knuckles before looking towards the tech. “So how’s baby number four looking?”

“Well, you’re definitely not around 8 weeks like you thought you were. You’re more around 12 weeks and the babies are doing great. The pain you felt was probably more having to do with your pelvic floor trying to prepare for them.”

“See, babe? The babies are fine.” Matt smiled, looking at you before snapping his head back to her. “Wait, babies?”

“Babies,” she smiled, turning the screen towards the both of you and pointing at the three different figures on the screen. “Baby A, Baby B and Baby C, and they’re all looking good in measurements and I don’t see any worry you should be having.”

Your jaw dropped and you felt Matt’s grip on your hand fall as the both of you stared at the screen in shock. “Babies...plural...three,” you said, letting out a small laugh. “Triplets?! I’m having triplets?!”

“Mhhm, and I’ll get these scans for you. But just know that they’re doing great and with multiples, your doctor is probably going to want you to check in a lot more. So when you go back home, be sure to make an appointment as soon as you can.” She smiled, handing you a paper towel before walking to leave the room.

Matt got up and walked towards the screen, staring at it before squatting down beside you and staring at your belly, poking it. “Huh...I guess I can kinda see a bump. I can’t believe there’s three mini us’s in there.” He turned to you with a big smile, only to let it falter as soon as he saw your glaring eyes.

“You’re getting a vasectomy. That’s final.”

[purrincess-chat]

Marinette Dupain-Cheng’s Spite Playlist: Remix CH18

I commented recently after GoS aired that canon Alya was on her way up, but MDCSPR Alya was on her way down. Consider this the beginning of the end for her for a while. 

Previous     First      Next     AO3

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Chapter 18: You Are In Love

“Good evening, m’lady! You’re looking radiant as ever tonight,” Chat Noir called. His boots clanked against the roof, and he tucked his staff into his belt as he approached the love of his life.

Ladybug stood on the edge, the lights from the city reflecting in her dark hair. Her eyes sparkled when she turned to him, and his heart fluttered. There was no contest—Ladybug was the most beautiful girl in the world, and his heart would always belong to her. She flicked his bell with the playful smile that made him melt.

“When are you going to stop calling me that?” she asked.

“Only when you fall in love with me.” He grinned. “Or if you kiss me.”

She looked up at him through long, fluttery lashes. “Do you want me to kiss you?”

His heart took off into a sprint as Ladybug wrapped her arms around his neck and stretched up on her toes. He leaned down and touched his lips to hers, savoring those few moments of bliss while they lasted. Nothing else mattered—just his lips on hers. The girl of his dreams was kissing him, and he wanted to stay locked in her embrace forever.

“Adrien,” she sighed his name when they pulled away, lingering close.

Her bright blue eyes found his, soft fingertips trailing down his arms. A light breeze blew through the garden, and Marinette smiled up at him.

“Are you going to kiss me again?” she asked.

He answered by leaning in, arms wrapping tightly around her waist. Her lips were soft and warm, and they kissed him back eagerly. Their hearts beat in time together, passionately entwined. There was no one to interrupt them here. The invisible force that drew him to Marinette bound him tightly, and he wasn’t letting go. He didn’t want to.

Marinette was beautiful and kind, and Adrien wanted to stay in the garden with her forever. His Marinette. The girl he’d always protect, no matter how far he fell to do it. He’d never thought about it before, but holding her this close felt right. She felt right. Marinette had seared her name onto his heart the day they met, binding them together forever. They were always meant to be.

“I love you,” he murmured against her lips, “Marinette.”

A clap of thunder boomed, and Adrien shot upright in bed, heart pounding. What once was a small flame now blazed wildly, burning his chest, his cheeks, his head. Marinette. Marinette was…

People don’t sneak off into the garden to kiss their friends, Adrikins.

Adrien touched his lips, still tingling from his dream. It felt so real. He’d kissed Marinette, not Ladybug. It was never Ladybug. From the moment their lips touched, it was always Marinette. The pounding of his heart, the fire burning through his chest, was all from Marinette.

Kicking off the blankets, he stumbled into his bathroom and flicked on the faucet. His cheeks were bright red and hot to the touch. Everything was too hot. He splashed cold water on his face, but the flames were too big to extinguish now. His heart refused to slow the cadence ravaging his veins.

I love you.

Sparks shot up his arms, numbing his fingers. He said it to Marinette. It had all felt so right in his dream. Now his heart had been stirred so violently in the waking world that not even he could control it. He could still feel the pressure of her lips on his, the warmth of her breath on his tongue. It had all felt real…

Outside the storm raged, the downpour beating against the windows too loud for him to make sense of his racing thoughts. He squeezed his eyes shut in an attempt to drown out the noise, but it was no use. His heart and his mind were at war, and Adrien was caught in the crossfire.

Has another lady finally stolen your heart?

He didn’t call her m’lady. When he saw Ladybug that evening, he didn’t call her cute names or tell her she was beautiful. His heart didn’t burn when she called him kitty. Not like it did now. His head was spinning.

He gripped the countertop until his knuckles turned white. The eyes staring back at him in the mirror buzzed with the electricity spreading across every inch of his skin. Lightning flashed, and the sparks vanished. His racing thoughts skidded to a halt, and the air in the room hung still and quiet. Adrien held his breath.

In the silence, his heartbeat echoed in his ears in a deafening chorus, and when the thunder finally came, all of the tension came crashing down, threatening to crush Adrien under the weight. His head had gone quiet, but his heart was loud, beating to a new rhythm. No, not new. It was old and familiar, a song that had been playing the whole time, too quietly for him to notice. Marinette’s rhythm.

He and Marinette hadn’t kissed in the garden, but Adrien wished they did. If Chloe hadn’t interrupted, then he wouldn’t have stopped. He would have kissed her again and again and again. Marinette. His first friend. The girl he’d go to hell for. The girl he couldn’t stop chasing, and now he knew why. She’d stolen his heart and run away, and this time he was going to steal hers back.

♪♫♪ willow ♪♫♪

Marinette skipped down the stairs to the bakery the next morning, lips pursed. News about Gabrielle had spread rapidly, and everyone at school knew now. Macy and Eliott texted Marinette the moment she got home from the party. Gabrielle told her not to worry, that Marinette shouldn’t care about her, and she was right. It wasn’t like they were friends, and after everything Gabrielle had done, Marinette should be happy like everyone else. But she wasn’t.

Maybe she was stupid. Or maybe she just couldn’t help herself. Tikki was right after all—Marinette couldn’t stop helping people.

“Good morning, sweetie,” her mom greeted.

“Morning.” Marinette stooped to kiss her cheek.

“Did you have fun at the movies last night with your new friends?” her dad asked.

“Yeah,” she said unconvincingly, biting her lip.

“Well, it takes time to adjust to a new school, and we’re happy you’ve already made some new friends. They’re welcome here anytime, okay?” Her mom lifted her chin, and Marinette offered her a smile.

“Thanks, Maman. I’ll see you tonight.” Marinette waved over her shoulder.

The sky was still gray from the late-night storm, casting a dreary haze over the city—a true testament to her mood. Droplets dripped from the overhang onto her blazer, and she brushed them off with a sigh.

Everything would be fine. If she tried hard enough, she could introduce Gabrielle to her group, convince her to be nicer to everyone, and they could all be friends. She’d helped Martin, Eliott, and Macy a lot since she met them. She could do the same for Gabrielle.

“Ya know.” She jumped at a familiar voice. “I think I’m starting to like the uniform.” Adrien leaned through the open window of his silver car, dreamy as ever.

“That makes one of us.” A smile curled on her lips.

“Oh, come on. It’s not that bad.” She gave him a look. “Okay, it’s pretty bad, but if it makes you feel better, I think you look cute in anything.”

She faltered, cheeks burning hotter than the bakery oven. Adrien thought she was cute! He’d almost kissed her. Twice. And now he was calling her cute! Dreams really did come true.

“I- well, it’s not- I mean, I’m not nearly as cute as you,” she stammered.

Nailed it.

“True, I am the cutest teen in Paris. At least, that’s what all the tabloids say.” He flashed her his best model smolder. “But if you look as cute as you did last night all the time, you might just give me a run for my money.”

He noticed! Chloe sat between them on the ride home and refused to let him walk her in, so Marinette worried that he didn’t get to see how cute she looked. Lisette needed to teach her how to work that kind of magic all the time.

“Well, after Chloe hosed us down, I had a little help getting cleaned up,” she said.

Adrien’s bodyguard cleared his throat from the driver’s seat, and Adrien flashed her an apologetic wince.

“Guess it’s time to go. I’ve got a full schedule this week, so I wanted to see you at least a little bit,” he said. “Let’s hang out when I’m free again.”

“Yeah, of course,” she said, and Adrien smiled.

“See you later, Marinette.”

“Yeah, see you.”

♪♫♪ Ain’t It Fun ♪♫♪

Things were as bad as Marinette expected at school. Everyone was elated about Gabrielle, and Marinette’s friends were no exception.

“I can’t believe she’s really broke. What did her face look like when everyone at the party found out?” Macy chattered before class.

“Yeah, how did you get invited to Lisette’s party, Marinette?” Eliott asked.

Marinette squirmed in her seat. “I-” She flicked her gaze over to Gabrielle, sitting in the back of the room. “I went with some old friends.”

“Oh! Chloe, right? I heard she helped Ladybug and Chat Noir defeat an akuma as Queen Bee again. It must be so awesome being friends with a superhero!” Macy said, and Marinette didn’t have the energy to correct her. “But more importantly, word on the street is you and Adrien came in soaking wet from the garden. Wanna explain yourself?”

Marinette’s heart skipped. She’d been hoping the Gabrielle news would be enough to distract people from that detail. Remembering the warmth of his breath so close to her lips sent her mind into a tizzy. Then there was this morning…

“We went for a walk in the garden, and the sprinklers turned on,” Marinette said as if it were no big deal, even though it was probably the biggest deal of her life.

“Then why is your face so red, hmm?” Eliott smirked.

“I- we- nothing happened!” Marinette insisted, but when her friends seem unconvinced, she diverted their attention. “Want to hear something horrific that happened? After I got cleaned up from the sprinkler-incident, I ran into Thomas, and he kind of hit on me.”

“Ugh!”

“Gross!” Macy and Eliott both recoiled.

“He is such a scuzzbag. Please tell me you told him off.” Macy groaned.

“Well, I started to, but then Gabrielle interrupted, and they started arguing, then Thomas told everyone Gabrielle’s secret, and yeah,” Marinette said.

“Serves her right. If Thomas wasn’t just as awful, I’d commend him for taking interest in you. You’re definitely a step up from Gabrielle,” Eliott said.

“I dunno… Don’t you guys feel at least a little bad for her?” Marinette winced, and Eliott and Macy looked at her like she’d grown a second head.

“Absolutely not. It’s going to be a lot quieter around here without her bossing everyone around,” Macy said.

“Yeah, she got what was coming to her.” Eliott agreed.

“Well, she was terrible and mean, but maybe if we showed her a little kindness, she could change,” Marinette said. When Macy and Eliott stared at her again, she faced forward with a sigh. “Never mind.”

“Look, Marinette, we love you, and it’s super sweet that you want to help everyone. Seriously, you’re an angel, but Gabrielle is a demon. She’s run this school ever since she set foot in it, and now her kingdom has crumbled. Those of us who have been enslaved by her tyranny are enjoying our newfound freedom,” Eliott said. “I mean, if that mean girl who stole all of your friends from your old school got exposed tomorrow, wouldn’t you be happy?”

He had a point. If it were Lila, Marinette would be over the moon. She couldn’t blame them for celebrating, and even though Gabrielle tormented everyone for the past three years, Marinette couldn’t help feeling like she wasn’t all bad.

If she had learned anything since leaving her old school, it was that people could change. People she thought were trustworthy could become strangers overnight, and people she never thought possible could become her most trusted allies. But maybe they were right. Maybe Gabrielle was a lost cause, and Marinette should just let her go. Things would be easier that way.

“Yeah, I guess…” Marinette mumbled as Mr. Mercier called for everyone to find their seats.

Marinette didn’t bring Gabrielle up again for the rest of the day. Her friends weren’t going to forgive her any time soon, and truthfully, she shouldn’t have expected them to. Gabrielle Burton was their Chloe Bourgeois wrapped in Lila Rossi. The reigning queen of their nightmares was now reduced to a powerless shell of her former glory, and peace had been restored to the kingdom at last. If someone told Ladybug on her first day that she would willingly give Chloe Bourgeois a Miraculous to fight beside her, she would have thought they were crazy. Healing would take time, but just because they weren’t ready to forgive, didn’t mean Marinette couldn’t help on her own.

Gabrielle was by her locker at the end of the day, having waited until everyone left to change into her work apron. She bristled when Marinette approached.

“What do you want?” She crossed her arms over her chest.

“I wanted to make sure you were okay,” Marinette said. “Everyone else was so mean to you, and I just thought after everything that you could use a friend.”

“Of course they were mean. In case you’ve forgotten, I haven’t exactly been nice to them in the past either.” Gabrielle rolled her eyes. “I told you, I’ll be fine. Don’t risk your reputation for me.”

“You did.” Marinette nodded. “But there’s no one around now.”

Gabrielle eyed her, perplexed. “Why do you care so much?”

It was a question Marinette had been asking herself all day, and looking at Gabrielle now, she finally knew the answer.

“When I left my old school, I was afraid I’d lost all of my friends, and I felt so empty inside,” she said. “But then I met my new friends, and I knew that everything would be okay. They helped me find my footing when I felt like my world was crumbling, so I want to be that for you.”

“You’re stubborn, Marinette. I’ll give you that.” Gabrielle leaned against her locker with a smile. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Do you want to take the subway together?” Marinette offered.

“Fine.” Gabrielle shut her locker, slinging her bag over her shoulder.

She averted her gaze as they walked, cheeks pink, but a small smile tugged the corners of her lips. Gabrielle may have a complicated past, but maybe with the right influence, she could learn to be nice after all. Sometimes all a person needed was the right friend and to know that they weren’t alone.

♪♫♪ crushcrushcrush ♪♫♪

Alya descended the stairs to the courtyard slowly, her stomach churning in knots. When Malin showed up, Alya thought Ladybug picked new allies for all of the Miraculouses. After all, she and Nino knew each other’s identities, and everyone knew Chloe’s identity. So why did Queen Bee get to fight by Ladybug’s side again? What had Alya done to deserve being replaced that Chloe hadn’t? None of it made any sense.

Lila and Ladybug had never met before, and truthfully, I don’t think they really even like each other.

Was it all because of Lila? If Adrien and Marinette’s stories were true, then Ladybug would know if she was a liar. Had Alya ruined her chances of wearing a Miraculous by aligning herself with Lila? It was the only thing that made sense, but Alya couldn’t bring herself to believe it. She needed answers.

Alya vaguely remembered Adrien’s fencing schedule from helping Marinette with her hopeless confession schemes. She almost missed those days. Things were a lot simpler back then. If she remembered correctly, Adrien should have been finishing his private lessons, which would put him in the locker room.

Alya hurried to the double doors across the courtyard. At first she thought she’d missed him, but voices mumbled several rows down. Alya crept in quietly to get a better listen.

“Are you sure these questions will get her to spill the tea?” Chloe.

“Yeah, all we have to do is get her to agree to it,” Adrien said.

What were they up to? Sure, everyone knew that Chloe and Adrien were friends since childhood, but on most days ‘friends’ was a generous exaggeration. As far as Alya knew, Adrien could hardly stand Chloe, so why were they talking now? Ducking behind the next row up from theirs, Alya held her breath and listened.

“Lila isn’t going to know what hit her after our interview with Ladybug goes live. She is so done for,” Chloe said darkly.

“I’m not doing this to ruin Lila’s reputation-”

“I know, I know.” Chloe groaned. “I can’t believe you’re going through all this effort to trick a superhero into exposing Lila for Little Miss Nobody.”

What?

“Her name is Marinette, and I know you miss her too, Chloe,” Adrien said.

“Ugh, don’t tell me you’ve actually got feelings for her—I might barf. It’s bad enough I had to chase you two out of the garden last night,” Chloe groaned. “Let’s just get rid of Lila, then you can go play the hero for Dupain-Cheng, and I can get back to being the reigning queen at this school.”

“We’ll try to signal Ladybug tomorrow afternoon. After that, no one will ever trust Lila again,” Adrien said.

“You and I make such a good team, Adrikins. We should ruin lives together more often,” Chloe said.

“I don’t plan to make a habit of it.”

The locker door slammed, and Alya scrambled to the end of the row, diving behind a cart of basketballs. Her heart hammered, blood pounding in her ears. She waited until the courtyard doors shut and the room fell quiet to move.

Chloe and Adrien were working together to get back at Lila for Marinette! She’d been right not to trust him. All this time she thought Adrien was a good guy, but she should have known better. No nice person could be friends with Chloe Bourgeois for so long. Ugh, that girl made Alya so sick! How could anyone be that cruel? And Ladybug actually trusted her over Rena Rouge? After everything Alya had done to prove herself. Chloe was the most selfish, bratty, conniving person Alya had ever met! Why did Ladybug ever trust her? Unless…

Unless she didn’t.

What if Chloe was manipulating Ladybug too? She said they were going to trick her into exposing Lila, so what if she tricked her into giving her back her Miraculous? Chloe was very good at getting what she wanted, and it wasn’t beneath her to ruin someone’s life just for stealing attention away from her. But why would Adrien and Marinette help her?

Alya’s head was spinning. What was the truth? Was all of this a long con set up by Marinette, and Adrien and Chloe were just the pawns? Why would she do that? None of it made sense. Why did they all hate Lila so much?

One thing was for sure: she needed to warn Ladybug about that interview. If Chloe was manipulating her, then Alya needed to put a stop to it. Maybe then she could prove to Ladybug that she was still worthy of being a hero. But she needed to hurry.

Her fingers dialed quickly, and Lila answered on the third ring.

“Hello?”

“Hey, I just overheard Adrien and Chloe talking. We don’t have a lot of time. We need to call Ladybug. Now.”