#ghosts that broke my heart before i met you

[leriexoxo]

SEXUAL HEALING

pairing: Changbin x Afab Reader

tags: friends to lovers, 18+, mdni, protected sex, oral (f receiving), mild angst, spanking, rough sex, post break up, doggy

word count: 4k

summary: you had a crush on your coworker Changbin who was also your friend's boyfriend for the longest time, but you had quickly accepted that he was never going to be yours, that was until she broke his heart and ran off with another man, ghosting even you. Instead of letting Changbin wallow and lose himself, you take it upon yourself to make sure he forgets.

This work contains mature themes, MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!

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  “Changbin, this is pathetic. It’s been 3 months. You need to stop this shit!” you scold irritably, arms crossed over your chest as you scowl at the mess of a man on the couch in front of you.

  “Would you leave me alone?” he snapped, glaring right back at you.

  “No,” you said harshly. “Just look at you. Its 2:00pm on a Wednesday afternoon and you’re moping and sitting on your couch wearing a t-shirt and boxers. You need to pull yourself together.”

He stared at you. “Would you get out of my apartment?”

  “I said no.”

If you were going to be honest, he had a good reason to be mildly depressed and a little touchy. But you always thought guys bounced back quicker from breakups than girls, and the fact that Changbin was still moping around 3 months after his girlfriend left him was more than a little concerning to you.

Changbin rolled his eyes and groaned, slinking lower in his couch. “I don’t know why you keep coming around here, it’s not like it’s made much of a difference.”

  “No difference? Please. A week ago, we were having this conversation when you were wearing nothing but boxers. I consider this a big improvement.” You crossed the room so you were standing over him.

  “Now put on some pants and come down to the cafe. It’s time to start living your damn life again. Chan says you can come back to work any time, and we’ve been short staffed all week.”

Not to mention you missed working with him. He was the only person you’d ever worked with that could always make you laugh and feel better about your generally shitty life. Not that you’d ever let him know that.

  “I don’t want to go back to the cafe,” Changbin grumbled. “What if she…” he trailed off, letting out a noise of pure frustration.

   “Nobody’s seen Hanna since she ran off with that weirdo,” you muttered, a little sore.

Hanna had been your best friend after you met working at Chan’s café for the last several months before she disappeared, she was a companion to gossip with while you cleaned the back room or locked up the cafe. When she’d started dating Changbin; the guy who got a job with you a few months earlier whom you’d always had a bit of a crush on, you’d been forced to live vicariously through her, hanging on to every story she had to tell about him.

Admittedly, some of those stories had made you more than a little sexually frustrated.

  “She could come back.”

  “She isn’t coming back, Binnie!” you burst out furiously, sick of everything. Sick of wanting him every freaking minute you spend with him. Sick of hearing him pining for a girl who had never been all that worth his time. “She’s gone! We are never going to see her again and you’re going to have to damn well live with that, and come to terms with the fact that sometimes shitty things happen and there isn’t anything we can do about them!”

Your outburst had the desired effect. He was standing up, something like anger flashing in his eyes. Good. You’d take anything over that pathetic kicked puppy act he’d been pulling for the last few months.

  “Don’t pretend like you know anything about what happened!” he spat, glaring down at you. “You have no idea what it’s been like—”

  “You think I don’t know what it’s like to be kicked to the curb?!” you demanded furiously. Damn. You hadn’t intended to actually get mad, but you were now. You were shaking, so pissed off.

How dare he say you knew nothing about how hard it had been for him?! “You think I don’t know what it’s like to give my heart to someone and have them stomp all over it?! What it feels like to be… to be abandoned, and abused?!”

That shut him up. You knew it would. Hell, it had been him who’d practically beat your abusive ex-boyfriend to a bloody broken mess when you’d come in to work with a black eye and a limp. Changbin had been the one to take you home with him that night and made sure you were okay, listening to you tell him how your parents had kicked you out at sixteen and the only reason you hadn’t left the man who enjoyed beating you for fun when he was drunk was because otherwise, you’d have been out on the streets. He had told you about how he grew up too, how he’d been abandoned by his family. But he had shrugged it off as though it were nothing even when you could tell it was something, and the next day he had helped you find an apartment you could afford in his building.

How could you not have developed feelings for him after that?

And even worse, how could he now have the audacity to throw that in your face?

Changbin looked slightly mortified with himself. “I… I didn’t mean it like that.”

  “Fuck what you meant!” you shouted, getting mad at yourself when you felt tears welling up in your eyes and start to spill over your cheeks. It had been a long time since you were so frustrated to the point you had started crying.

You knew you could have just minded your business about his break up and his decline after, but you just couldn’t. it hurt you to see the man you fell for lose himself over someone who didn’t deserve him, you couldn’t stand by and watch.

  “You’ve been wallowing in all this self-pity, and I know it’s hard, okay?! I know it’s hard to forget when bad shit happens, and I know it’s hard to move on, but you just have to fucking do it!”

  “I… shit. I didn’t think you were gonna start crying,” Changbin says lamely, reaching out a hand to try wiping your cheeks but you shrugged away from it.

  “You know what, I don’t give a fuck anymore,” you muttered, wiping at your eyes and turning towards the door. “You can mope around your apartment forever. Ignore the fact that there are other girls out there who’d love to be with you. Don’t go back to work anymore while you still have the chance to go back, in fact you should stop paying your rent and get kicked out. I don’t care anymore.”

That was a big ass lie. You did care. You cared so much your heart hurt, but if you were going to leave Changbin alone like he wanted, you were going to make damn sure that you were angry when you left, it would make things easier that way.

You stormed to the door and yanked it open, but just as you were about to step through, his hand reached out from behind you and firmly shut it again. You spun around, preparing to scream at Changbin again, but all coherent thoughts left you as soon as he crushed his lips against yours, grabbing your wrists and pinning you to the door.

His mouth was hot and fervent, without hesitation you felt his tongue in your mouth, exploring every part of it. He nipped at your bottom lip, just a little too hard, catching it and pulling sweetly between his teeth before his mouth was on your neck as he sucked and bit at the sensitive flesh of your collarbone.

You let out a long, shuddery moan. “Binnie…”

He broke away, his hands finding their way under your shirt to squeeze your waist. “You think I haven’t known this whole time?” he growled lowly in your ear. “You’ve never been exactly subtle about the way you feel about me y/n.”

He pressed his hips into yours, and you could feel that he was half-hard already. He still had you pinned against the door rendering you powerless to stop him, as if you even wanted to.

You wanted more. More of his hot breath on your neck, more of his desperate hands exploring your body, more rough kisses to your skin.

  “If you knew then why didn’t you say something?” you asked on a breathy exhale, arching your face up towards his.

  “I just didn’t want to hurt you or myself, and I wasn’t certain until your little outburst”

  “I- hey!” You yelped as he grabbed the back of your thighs just below your ass and lifted you up, forcing you to wrap your legs around his hips as he moved across the room towards his bedroom door.

Well, I guess there wasn’t really any other place for this to head, you thought briefly as he crossed over into his room and threw you down on the bed. You barely had time to recover before Changbin was on top of you again, his lips captured yours again in a hot kiss, his tongue delving deep into your mouth as his hands found the hem of your shirt and slid under the fabric, up the soft skin of your belly until he reached your bra. He dragged it down just enough for your breasts to spring free and began to knead them, squeezing and rolling them around in his large palm, sucking at your neck again as his thumbs skimmed across your nipples.

You let out a high-pitched whine, and heard him chuckle. “You like that?” he breathed, intentionally flicking them both like the menace he was.

You jolted, and the response was met with a low hum of amusement before he was fisting the fabric of your shirt in his hands, pulling it up to expose your breasts but not all the way off. He directed all of his attention to your stiff, erect nipples, tweaking and pinching them until your back arched so far off the bed it was almost concerning. He grasped at the base of your spine, holding you there as his mouth closed down on one breast, and though you tried to hold it back a whimper still escaped.

You were not sure if it was a reward or punishment when he nipped at you, teeth dragging gently across your nipple before he sucked on it so intensely you squealed. Your other breast was still being worshipped by his free hand, tweaking and squeezing until your entire body was trembling and you were squirming under him. He shoved you back into the bed and switched breasts, taking the other in his mouth while directing the attention of his fingers to the one he just left.

  “Changbin,” you gasped when he pulled away to yank up at your shirt, you raised your hands to make undressing you easier. When he tossed it aside and wrapped his arms around you, he expertly undid the clasps of your bra in one impressive snap before pulling it off your arms until it joined your shirt on the floor. You in turn reached for the bottom of his shirt, but his hands grabbed your wrists, effectively halting your intentions.

  “Nope,” he whispered into your ear, and his hot, damp breath made you shudder. “Not yet. First I’m gonna give you exactly what you deserve.”

  “Come on,” you whined, but he grinned and crushed his lips against yours again, hands moving down to your waist. He brought his head lower, kissing the dip between your breasts, running his tongue down your belly and stopping when he reached the top of your jeans.

  “Hm. These gotta go,” he muttered, giving you a doggish grin as he worked at your zipper and pulled your jeans down. You lifted your hips to help him along, and he dragged them off completely, tossing them along with your other articles of clothing on the floor. He seemed desperate.

He brought his hand up between your legs, feeling your heat through your thongs and his grin grew wider. “A bit excited, are we?” he purred, pressing against you and kissing your neck.

You wished he’d let you take off his shirt. You wanted to feel his bare chest against yours, but he was quite adamant about undressing you while he remained clothed, and though you wondered what the punishment might be if you attempted again, you were a little distracted by the way he was tugging at your earlobe with his teeth, his hot breath tickling the sensitive flesh of your neck. His fingers were now tugging at the waistband of your thongs, struggling to slide them off.

He wasn’t waiting for your permission, you realized. Everything was coming off now whether you were ready or not, and you weren’t entirely sure you were. You had never been completely naked while your partner remained fully clothed. But Changbin was clearly in charge here, and he wasn’t going to compromise or reason. He was driving this, and he would do what he wanted.

So, you raised your hips again, making it easier on you both as he slid your thongs down and off completely. And just like that, you were totally naked before Seo Changbin. You certainly hadn’t expected this when you woke up this morning or when you barged into his apartment to bother him for the umpteenth time.

When Changbin sat up, you thought he was finally letting up and he would let you take his clothes off him, but as you tried shifting up to a seating position as well, he grabbed your shoulders and pushed you back into the mattress.

  “Stay put,” he growled, gripping one of your ankles and laying a kiss to the inside of it.

You let out a tiny moan as his hands traveled up, kneading the soft flesh of your calves and thighs, before forcing your legs open to spread wide for him, you were about to say something before suddenly feeling his fingers grazing your wetness, you threw your head back mewling like a feline, and as one slipped inside your satiny walls, all coherent thoughts fled your mind because fuck that felt amazing.

You heard the sound of his low chuckling before he buried his finger to the knuckle and curled it.

  “Oh my God…” You whimpered.

Keeping his finger playing around in your cunt, he lowered himself over you and kissed your cheek, trailing his pointed nose alone your jaw. “You’re so tight,” he breathed huskily, slowly adding a second finger making you moan even louder. Changbin ran his tongue from your jawline to the sensitive spot just behind your earlobe and whispered. “Makes it so hard to control myself.”

  “God, Binnie,” you gasped as he leisurely thrust his fingers in and out of you.

  “Tell me what you want?” he asked lowly, smirking. Your legs were shaking, your knees sweating, you were right on the edge, and you knew what he wanted from you. He wanted you to beg. Even as much as you hated begging, his sweet torture was becoming too much to handle.

  “I need to come,” you squeaked as his fingers thrust in again, deeper this time. Faster. “Please… oh, god…”

He complied, curling his fingers up ever so slightly and rubbing that spot inside of you that made the stars explode behind your eyes and your hips thrust forward into Changbin’s like he’d shot electricity through your body. It felt like you were falling, falling and falling off a cliff into a sea of pleasure, your breaths becoming short and shallow as you finally came undone.

As you clung onto your high for a few moments before reality began to take root again, Changbin pulled his fingers out and grabbed your breasts again, squeezing them more gently this time. “Good girl,” he purred, pinching your nipples.

  “Fuck,” you breathed, your chest heaving. That was the most powerful orgasm you could ever remember having.

  “You better not be checking out after one little orgasm,” Changbin smirked, as he leaned in to kiss you again. When he pulled away the gleam in his eyes was hungry. “Because I’m not done with you yet.”

You groaned, but only half-heartedly. “Can I take your shirt off now?” you pleaded, reaching for it again. His hands grabbed your wrists again, but this time they weren’t gripping so tight.

He looked teasingly contemplative. “Well… you did cum like a good girl, so I suppose you’ve earned yourself a treat,” he decided, releasing your wrists, and you eagerly tugged his shirt up over his head and off him, tossing it aside and placing your palms on his chest, fingers curling around his pecs.

You wanted to keep exploring, but he shifted away before pushing you back to the bed again.

  “That’s enough,” he breathed, hands going to your calves. You didn’t even have time to wonder what his intentions were before he lifted your legs so the backs of your knees are on his shoulders, and you could feel his hot breath over your core, agonizingly wonderful and you just want more—

When his lips met your wet cunt, your back arched so far off the mattress it shocked even you. He made a low sound of amusement and grabbed your hips, lowering them back as far as they could go with your legs on his shoulders, holding you in place as his tongue begins to explore.

Your fingers curled into the sheets, grasping at anything to anchor yourself because it felt so good that you had to be on the verge of floating away. You tried to buck your hips but he was too strong, and instead your legs began to tremble so violently.

You couldn’t form coherent words, and as Changbin’s tongue slipped inside, probing and digging into you, you let out a howl of pleasure. You couldn’t believe one of his neighbors hadn’t come pounding on the door with a noise complaint yet, but you couldn’t help yourself. It just felt far too damn good, and there was no way you could stay silent. You wondered how much louder you were going to get when he actually fucked you.

Your second orgasm was more powerful than the first, you’d never heard yourself make the kind of noise that ripped from your throat as you sky-rocketed to the highest point of pleasure you could have imagined – surely it couldn’t get better than this. The noise was guttural and breathy at the same time, somewhere between a moan and a scream, and as soon as it escaped, Changbin’s mouth was on yours again, effectively silencing you as you rode the waves of pleasure from your climax.

Changbin released your legs and sat back, watching as you recovered, looking a bit winded himself.

  “Fuck,” he muttered, grimacing. Your eyes traveled down to his boxers, and you could tell he was fully hard with half a glance.

  “Want some help with that?” you whispered, reaching for the waistband of his boxers, but he stopped you.

  “Turn over,” he commanded firmly, and you hesitated.

  “Why?” you breathed out shakily, a little frightened all of a sudden. Turning over meant you wouldn’t be able to see what he was doing anymore.

You let out a yelp as he grabbed your hips and flipped you over himself, pressing his chest to your back.

  “Don’t make me ask twice,” he growled in your ear, and you shuddered as his weight disappeared from your back. “Ass up,” he ordered.

Now you were scared. He wasn’t going to fuck you there, was he? You’d never taken anything up there before. You were not sure you could.

Apparently, the time you took to think was too long for Changbin, and you feel a light smack on your left ass cheek. You jolted. Did he just spank you?! Fuck, you’d never had that done to you before. And even more alarming was that it really turned you on.

He swatted at you again, a little harder this time. Just with enough force to make this one sting. “Up,” he repeated firmly. “On your hands and knees.”

If you hesitated again, it might have earned you another smack, and while you definitely wanted to explore that new fetish later, you were just too desperate to have him filling you up, stretching you to your limit that you finally obeyed, lifting yourself up so you’re poised on your hands and knees, waiting. You heard the soft rustle of fabric and knew he was pulling off his boxers, and then came the crinkle of foil and the sound of latex and you knew he was putting the condom on, the anticipation was driving you crazy.

Finally, you felt his hands, firmly grasping your hips, holding you steady as he lined himself up. You felt his tip at your entrance and you bit down on your lip because God, you had waited so long for this, and then in a single hard thrust, he slid in making you scream and bunch the sheets in your fingers, lowering your head to bite one of your knuckles. He remained still for a few seconds and you could hear his heavy, shuddery breaths as he basked in the sensation of just being inside of you.

And then he started to move. It was slow at first, easing in and out of you, but his pace quickened rapidly, especially when you started moaning his name. One of his hands moved from your hips to trace the ridge of your spine all the way up to your neck and then back down. You bucked your hips backwards into his, meeting every thrust, trying to help him go deeper to stimulate that sweet spot in you that you wanted him to reach so much. Occasionally he barely brushed against it and you let out a loud desperate moan.

  “God you’re so big Binnie… so full…” you cried, not really caring if his neighbor heard you.

He growled in his throat and pressed down in the center of your back, forcing your chest to the mattress. You bucked your hips up again, raising your ass higher in the air. He kept fucking you relentlessly hitting that oversensitive, aching spot repeatedly and everything was suddenly trembling limbs; you trying to reach behind you to push against his punishing waist and him pushing you away and fucking you even deeper as intense waves of pleasure, not once did he even slow down.

  “I’m so fucking close, shit!!” he growled.

He kept fucking you and it felt like you’re climaxing again and again and again with every thrust, you were pretty sure you were screaming his name but you couldn’t be absolutely certain with all the blood roaring in your ears, you could feel rather than hear his guttural moan by the deep vibration in his chest as he came and collapsed against you as he pulled out before rolling over onto his back, his chest heaving and his breathing shallow.

  “Jesus – fucking – Christ,” he groaned.

You flopped to your stomach, in a bit of a daze after that intense session of fucking. “You can say that again.”

  “Why did I ever waste my time with Hanna?” he muttered, and the question seemed so ridiculous to you that you giggled. He turned his head to look at you. “What?”

  “Glad to know a good fuck was the only thing you needed to get over her,” you grinned at him, rolling over onto your side so you can see him better.

  “Huh. Guess you were right. Just needed to move on,” Changbin flashed you the cheekiest smirk you’d ever seen and you nudged him with your hip.

  “I’ll blow you next time. Make you really forget everything,” you told him, and he groaned, rolling over and burying his face in his sheets.

  “Fuck me.” He groaned into the bed, realizing how truly fucked he was.

  “Oh, I intend to,” you teased, and he laughed and grabbed your waist, pulling you into him and kissing you.

  “Thanks,” he mumbled against your mouth, and you grinned and kiss him back, wondering how something finally went right. Maybe you were finally getting what you deserved after a lifetime of crap.

There definitely would be more of these healing sessions. Of that you had no doubt.

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Authors note: Hi guys! so, this Changbin fic had been sitting in my drafts for a few months now, I just touched it up and uploaded. I hope you like it!!

feel free to reblog and drop a like! also welcome to my new followers ;)

[gorimbaudandgojohnnygo]

A long ramble about current-life-stuff and memories of the past that I don’t feel comfortable posting about on my main blog:

—Ruby, my witch wife, was on my mind a lot during the first half of February. I think of her most often in February and October, as those are the months when we spent the most time together, back when we were still in each other’s lives. She was on my mind, and I found some notes I’d written down in October, for a poem I wanted to write about her. Back in October, I couldn’t find a way into the poem, but looking over the notes recently, I found one. So I wrote it, and it is in my new chapbook, and will also be on my new spoken word EP. Then, just a week ago, I was looking through a file folder of old notes/writing ideas/fragments, and I found a note I’d jotted down several years ago, for a poem I wanted to write about her, featuring a lot of the same themes and images that wound up in the new poem. Apparently I have had this poem brewing in my head for a very long time; I’m glad I was finally able to get it out.

—Recent thought: Marks left in old books from dog-eared pages are like desire paths.

—A few weeks ago, standing in my kitchen making dinner, I realized I was standing with my feet in a ballet position. And it just hit me that, though I only took ballet for a few years, and didn’t appreciate it at the time (it was too structured for me, I preferred dancing that was more freeform)—my body still remembers ballet.

—Memory: There was a guy I slept with once in late June 2004. For the purposes of this story, we’ll call him Jimbo. I was in love with Craig, who lived far away and was unattainable for many reasons (I mean, we’d fucked, but being in a relationship with him was out of the question), so I was throwing myself at anyone who’d have me, or saying yes to anyone who threw themselves at me, to try and distract myself from the Craig debacle. And Jimbo was one of those people. The sex was good; he was a kinky freak which was fun cuz a lot of my one night stands back then were the most vanilla dudes ever. He let me wear his GG Allin t-shirt to sleep, and I just wore it home the next morning and never gave it back. Cut to September 2004. I ran into Jimbo, after not seeing him or even talking to him since like a week after our hookup. He confessed to me that he’d actually been married at the time, though separated from his wife—was, in fact, still married, but now officially going through the process of divorce. I had recently had an abortion; Craig had gotten me pregnant a week or so before I hooked up with Jimbo in June, though I hadn’t known it yet. So I confessed that to him. This is the part I flashed on when I remembered him recently—me telling him of my pregnancy and abortion, and his reaction to it. He got really freaked out. Not because he was anti-abortion, no. His reaction was: “Ew, you were pregnant? What if I poked the baby with my dick?” I just started laughing. I was like: “Okay, first of all, I was less than two weeks pregnant; it was a tiny clump of cells at that point, not a baby. Secondly, your dick’s not that big, and also there’s this thing called the cervix which kinda prevents a dick of any size from actually entering the uterus. And finally, you had me snowball you after I gave you head. You’re okay with me spitting your own cum into your mouth, but you’re grossed out by the totally physically impossible prospect of poking a fetus with your dick while fucking?” I sure could pick ‘em. But in any case, he felt so bad about not having told me he was married that he gave me a free tattoo to make up for it.

—Memory: A different guy, also a tattoo artist. We’ll call him Kevin. He was, in fact, my main tattoo artist for a few years when I lived in Milwaukee. We never hooked up, but he wanted to. He had a huge crush on me and was always hitting on me when I went into the shop to get tattooed, and honestly it got borderline creepy at times. We had this mutual acquaintance, Renee, who had a crush on him, and I often encouraged him to go for it, because she was really cool and also I hoped that if they hooked up he’d drop the whole thing with me. So one time when I was in there, we were talking about her, and I was once again encouraging him to go for it. “Nah, I can’t date her,” he said. “She used to be a stripper.” “And?” I asked. “Strippers are all skanky sluts,” he said. “Um, you know I do burlesque and nude pinup modeling,” I said, “and you don’t seem to have a problem with that.” “That’s different.” “How so?” “It just is.” “I really don’t see how. She and I have both taken our clothes off for money, and we’ve both danced naked or semi-naked in front of an audience.” “It’s just different, okay?” Obviously he didn’t know I had also done full-service sex work, because it was none of his business, but I lost even more respect for him that day. Sex work is sex work, none of it is inherently more degrading than any other kind, and at that point I was at least glad he wasn’t into Renee, because she deserved better.

—Sometimes, when I get sad that I don’t live the exciting life I once did, I’m glad I’m a writer. Yeah, there’s the frustrating thing when I’m never fully present in any moment as I’m living it, because I’m always thinking about how I’m going to write about it later. But on the flipside of that, it means I get to relive all the memories of my old wild days multiple times.

—One of my aunts is dying of stage four cancer. The infuriating thing is that she had symptoms for over a year and refused to go to the doctor to get them checked out until they got so bad she couldn’t ignore them anymore; she might have had a fighting shot if she’d just gone in when she first noticed the symptoms. But mostly I’m just sad that I’ll never get to see her again, and also heartbroken watching my mom lose her oldest sibling.

—When we were up in Door County, I ended up telling my mom about my abortion. Not the one I had in 2004—she’ll never know about that one, if I have my way—but the one I had in 2021. It was the four year anniversary that day, and I was feeling a little sad about it, and we were talking about politics and abortion came up, and it just kinda came out. She handled it pretty well, but asked why I hadn’t told her at the time. “Did you think I’d disapprove?” she asked. My response was that no, it wasn’t that, it was that I didn’t really talk to anyone about it at the time, except for P. and Beagan. And that’s not a lie, but what I didn’t add was that yeah, I kinda did think she’d disapprove. Not because she’s anti-abortion, but because whenever I’ve been in any kind of Difficult Situation, she’s always berated me for getting myself into it rather than either asking about any of the other surrounding circumstances that may have contributed, or helping me get out of it. At least this time she didn’t berate me.

—The next day was Henry Rollins’s birthday. We had to go to Nelson’s that day, to get a few things, and it made me all nostalgic, because— Okay, backstory time again. Nelson’s is a hardware store, and also a general store. They basically sell everything except groceries, and they’ve been around for-ev-er. Back in the days when Filia used to often come up to Door Co. with us, we’d go to Nelson’s a lot, because there wasn’t much else to do. We were often there in the off-season, and there weren’t as many year-round places that existed back then. Except bars, and we weren’t yet old enough to go to bars. So we’d go to Nelson’s to shoplift dog chains and padlocks to wear as necklaces, or India ink and needles for stick&poke purposes. This was also during the height of our shared Henry Rollins obsession, and one of the things Nelson’s sold was a wealth of old-timey candy; including Oh Henry! bars, which of course we bought, solely for the name. Before we went there this time, I’d texted Filia: “Happy Henry Rollins Day from Door County!” And she replied: “Be sure to go to Nelson’s and get an Oh Henry! bar to celebrate.” Which I fully planned on doing. But they don’t sell Oh Henry! bars anymore. So as we were checking out, my mom decided to tell the young (probably in his early 20s) guy at the counter that I was looking for an Oh Henry! bar, because we used to buy them there, and because it was Henry Rollins’s birthday. First he said: “Who’s Henry Rollins?” Then he said: “And what’s an Oh Henry! bar?” My mom said that they were a candy bar that had been around forever. “I used to buy them when I was a kid, back in the 1950s,” she said. “Oh, uh…that’s way before my time,” he replied, which, well, no shit. “They still had them here in the late ‘90s, though,” I said. “That’s when I was buying them.” “Uh…that’s before my time, too,” he said. I didn’t really care that they didn’t have the candy bars anymore, but I just felt old and missed Filia. And I just looked it up, and apparently Oh Henry! bars were discontinued in 2019. The world I grew up in is gone.

—I’m growing out my armpit hair again. I feel better when I have pit hair, but until recently I was using a deodorant that always left weird clumps in it, which I hated, so every time I’d try to grow it out I’d end up shaving it after a month or so. I’ve switched to a gel-based deodorant instead, so fingers crossed that this time it works out.

—Speaking of hair. The hair on my head is mostly gray now. Red hair dye already fades the fastest of any color, but it fades even faster when the base hairs are gray. It’s getting expensive and annoying trying to maintain the color in my hair, and I think sometimes of just letting it fade/grow out and going gray, but I don’t think I’m ready for it quite yet. Not because I’m ashamed of having gray hair or anything, just because I’d be sad to not be a redhead anymore.

—One of my “New Year’s Rulins” in the zine I made was GET REAL WEIRD WITH IT, and I think I’m doing well on that front, especially art-wise. I’m experimenting with different stuff in my writing, visual art, and music, not even worrying about if it’s ‘good’ or not, just having fun and getting crazy.

—When looking through Flickr to find an image to use in a recent collage, I came across a photograph (which I ended up using in said collage) that gave me this moment of: what the FUCK? Because the woman in it looks like if me and my old flame/almost-lover Odele could have had a lovechild. Obviously, even if we had been lovers, that is not biologically possible—being that we both have the sort of anatomy where we can get pregnant, but not get anyone else pregnant—but yeah. The resemblance to both of us is uncanny. And after the shock wore off, I just got sad, missing Odele. Yet another person on my miles-long love list, another ghost I miss.

—Speaking of the ghosts of old love(r)s. Before the poetry event the Saturday before last, after I decided to dress in a Patti Smith-inspired style, I had to dig out my old skinny tie, the one I’ve had for oh, 22 years now. I haven’t worn it in many years at this point, but I used to wear it (and other skinny ties) so often that it was part of my signature look. My username on various websites/email addresses was, for a good couple years, ‘skinnytiegirl.’ It was during that time that I first met Sullivan, and once he sent me an email that just said:

my my my girl’s got a skinny tie and one eye for Tom and one for Jack and thirteen hearts in a gunnysack 

—On the three-block walk from my car to the bookstore the event was in, I encountered a pack of 20-something-year-old business bros stumbling out of a bar. It wasn’t even 7 p.m. yet, and they were all visibly wasted, and very very loud and obnoxious. They were also all white. I note this because nothing terrifies me more when I’m alone than a pack of drunk white guys, especially when they look either businessy or fratty. Because those are often the type of guys who will not hesitate to in some way harm or harass anyone they perceive as ‘other,’ be that ‘other’ female/feminine, queer, non-white, etc. And what’s more, if they do decide to fuck with you, they’ll probably get away with it. They didn’t harass me, but they did run into me and nearly knock me into a snowbank, and didn’t even fucking say ‘sorry’ afterwards.

—That cryptic post I made a while back, about “oh, we’re gonna bang, aren’t we?” The guy that was in reference to, Edwin—he was there. Whatever we have going on is strange and I have mixed feelings about it. The attraction is pretty obvious, and we write long emails to each other that are just this side of outright flirtation, but when we see each other in person we barely talk. We just, like, make intense eye contact from across the room, like we’re in some damn Regency-era romance or something. If anything is going to happen, I will have to make the first move, which… Ugh, god, this guy pisses me off and I also want him. He’s a brilliant poet, and also a brilliant scientist, but he’s very pretentious (I am also very pretentious, but in a different way), and he’s really kind of…effete is, I guess, the best word for it? I’m normally a sub but this guy brings out my dom feelings like no other. I want to wreck him.

—Other things about that night: I met a poet named Lou. He’s a super rad dude who, along with poetry, also makes visual art and music. He calls the music he makes “spiritual anarchist hiphop,” which is hella cool. I’m hoping we can collaborate on something; we threw some ideas back and forth and though our styles are vastly different, I think we’re coming from a similar place, if that makes sense. The bookstore where the reading was held (the new bookstore downtown that I first went to back in December) opened up their back room for the first time for the event, and they’d set up this makeshift stage that was made out of like, stacks of book crates covered with an ancient rug. The stage was understandably a little wonky and some people were kinda complaining about it, but it just reminded me of DIY punk shows, and I thought it was great. After the performance part of the evening ended, I stayed around a little while to have a drink and talk with folks. I was talking with Ren and Rudy, and Ren said that when Edwin was reading, he’d been watching Rudy and I digging it, or, as he put it: “I watched you guys receiving the poetry.” I was about to make some ‘receiving the poetry’ joke, because it sounded very sci-fi to me, but before I could say anything, Rudy slipped into a stereotypical space alien voice and held up his finger like E.T. and said: “I am receiving the poetry.” It was perfect. So yeah, I stayed around a bit, had a drink, talked to friends old and new, but I stayed on the charming side of drunk (did not actually even get drunk, but if you know you know), and I left without saying goodbye.

—That film festival I attended part of when I was up in Door County? The cool thing was they were streaming all the films on their website the week after, and because I had attended, I got to stream anything I wanted for free. So I watched a lot of the films I hadn’t had the chance to see in person. (And God, all of it—the in-person aspect and the streaming aspect—reminded me how much I love film as a medium! And why I used to wanna be a filmmaker! Fuck!) The night after the reading—the last night streaming was available—I watched Green Blah!, the documentary about the early Green Bay punk scene, that I’ve wanted to see since I first heard about it. I just, I had so many fucking feelings about it. Partly because hey, I know some of the guys that were in the film. And partly because any punk or indie-related thing reminds me of my own younger days, and this one was no exception. The stupid outfits, the shows at shitty venues, the fanzines, the radio DJ shit, all that. I actually fucking cried during certain parts of the documentary, which isn’t shocking. As I’ve said before—I get emo about punk stuff.

—Since watching it, I have been having hella feelings about Wisconsin punk rock, and about various people I know/knew through my involvement with punk scenes in Wisconsin. One being Coyote Boy. I never knew how to explain to anyone how I felt about him. Nothing even happened between us (he was another almost-lover), but the feelings were real.

—Memory: Driving through Milwaukee with Kellyn, sometime after she and Levi had started dating and she and I became friends. Levi had recently introduced her to Coyote Boy (much like he had introduced me to him two years prior), and she was talking about how cool he was and how she wanted to start playing drums and hopefully he would be her drum teacher, and I said: “You have a crush on him, don’t you?” She said: “Is it that obvious? Yeah, I do. Don’t tell Levi.” I was like: “Oh, cross my heart, swear I won’t. I was like, in love with Coyote Boy for a while, and I still kind of am, and I know how Levi gets when he feels insecure.” Then we both started laughing because here she was, dating my ex-fiancée, and crushing on another guy I also liked, so clearly we had similar taste in dudes.

—That memory made me think of another time, sitting at a bar with Kellyn and Levi, when I was first getting to know her. We were talking about the Myers-Briggs quiz, and I said I was an ENFP, and she said: “Oh shit, I’m an INFP!” Levi was like: “What does that mean?” And her response was: “It means Jess and I are the same person, except I’m an introvert and she’s an extrovert.” Yeah, I know Myers-Briggs is bullshit, but it was still kind of hilarious; even more hilarious because Levi seemed a bit freaked out that his new girlfriend was saying she was the same person as his ex. No, Kellyn and I weren’t really the same, but we did have a lot in common. It still seems unfair that she was one of the friends Maggie got to keep in the Great Friend Exodus of 2014.

—Another Milwaukee friend that I lost is Belah, and I miss her a lot, too. We were still friends for a couple more years after 2014, she wasn’t really part of the same friend group, so I know that’s not why we parted ways. I’ve racked my brain for reasons she might hate me, but I can’t really settle on anything. I try to remind myself that maybe she doesn’t hate me, we just drifted apart, because not every friend is meant to be part of your life forever, but it still makes me sad. Unless someone does something unforgivable to me—and I have a pretty high bar for what’s unforgivable—I want to be friends with everyone, forever.

—Another person that Green Blah! made me think of was Les. And then I remembered that time Luke and Daria and I went to see his band, [redacted], and some others, to see the show and record interviews to play on WIPZ. Les was the bassist for [redacted] at that time, and oh god, I had the hots for him, and he was into me, I mean we started flirting almost immediately upon meeting. I was 17 (nearly 18, but not yet), and he was 9 or 10 years older, but I genuinely did not give a shit, and he didn’t seem to, either. I mean, he never asked how old I was, but I was obviously younger than him—though he may have thought I was just under 21 rather than under 18. Let me explain something here… I had only really started feeling desirable at age 15-almost-16, and I was mostly only interested in people older than myself, and I had realized that when I dressed like a punk rock bombshell and flirted with older punk guys, I was catnip. So I played the jailbait card hard a lot of the time. I wasn’t playing the jailbait card that night, I just looked cute (tight t-shirt, plaid skirt, fishnets, high top Chucks) and was an incorrigible flirt. And I’m not trying to say Les was a creep or a predator, either. He didn’t seem to care how old I was, but he also didn’t seem to only be into me because I was younger. In fact, the then-guitarist for [redacted]—who was even older than Les, probably in his early 30s—was also hitting on me. The two of them were vying for my attention for a while, and I was flattered, but the guitarist actually was being a bit pushy and creepy, and also, I only had eyes for Les. All this was happening in front of Daria and Luke, by the way, which is only notable because Luke was my boyfriend at the time. We had an open relationship, but honestly I would’ve kept flirting with Les even had we not had one, because I was kind of awful back then. Anyway, at one point, Les and I finally had a few moments alone when all our various friends and boyfriends and bandmates were off doing whatever else, and we so wanted to make out, but there was nowhere in the venue to do it where we wouldn’t risk interruption, so he said: “Maybe we could…go out to the van?” I was all in, because he was so cute, and because I was a make out bandit, and I was so horny all the time that I would’ve absolutely been down to fuck, too, but then the door guy at the venue said to Les: “You can go, but if she leaves, she’s not allowed back in.” (I think it had something to do with the fact that I was under 21, and sometimes under 21 folks would leave, get an “old enough to drink” wristband from someone else, and come back in and drink.) Les was quick-thinking, and said: “Oh, it’s cool, she’s with us. She’s our merch girl.” Unfortunately, Door Guy was not having it: “Doesn’t matter. If she leaves, she can’t come back.” Yeah, I got fucking cockblocked by the door guy, and the next time I saw [redacted] live Les wasn’t in the band, and we never got to make out. Dammit.

—The rest of that show was great, though. And I met [redacted 2], and interviewed them. And the then-bassist of [redacted 2] asked me to sexually harass him. He was in like, his 50s, but he was also really cute, and honestly I would’ve fucked him, too, if I’d had the chance.

—Memory: At a punk show in Kenosha in 2014, it was the first time I had the opposite experience—where instead of being the young one flirting with older punks, I was the older one getting flirted with by a young punk. Now, he wasn’t jailbait, but still… First, he was doing the whole: “Who are you? I’ve never seen you around before. Is this your first show in Kenosha?” “Not even close,” I said. “I’ve been going to shows here since I was 15, 16.” “Me too!” he said. “Yeah,” I said, “this would’ve been like, 1997, 1998.” “Oh,” he said. “Uhhhh…I wasn’t going to shows back then. I was…7.” So that put him at 23 or 24, as I was 32 at the time. Later in the evening, we were checking out the pins and patches on each other’s jackets, doing that “Oh, I love that band; oh, I’ve never heard of that one” thing. One of the patches on his jacket was for The Crucifucks, and I was like: “Rad, I love that band. Also they’re from the same town I was born in. Lansing, Michigan.” “Did you ever go see them back when you lived there?” he asked. I started laughing and said: “I know I’m older than you are, but how old do you think I am? The Crucifucks broke up when I was eight!”

—And that, in turn, reminded me of the time I was hanging out with G.T. and I’d mentioned living in Flint, Michigan at one point, and he was like, “Oh, hey, my old band used to play there. Maybe you saw us? This would’ve been, like, ‘85?” “I was…four.” That look on his face, when he realized I was way, way younger than he’d thought. Then: “Oh shit. How old are you?”

—As always happens to me when I get nostalgic for one time period of my life, I end up getting nostalgic for other parts of my past, too. Every memory reminds me of another memory.

—Memory: That time when my roommate Dolores and I were gonna start a band, back when she was still sorta cool, before she completely flipped out. She was gonna be the drummer and I was gonna be the bassist and she had this friend, this super hot punk rock dyke whose name escapes me, so we’ll call her Tina, who was gonna play guitar; we were all gonna take turns on lead vocals. Tina came over one time so we could all jam, and talk about our influences, and the like. We also tossed around ideas for band names. Tina suggested Firecrotch, cuz we were all redheads, and we thought it would be funny—though Tina was the only one of the three of us that was a true redhead, and therefore a firecrotch. Anyway, at one point that afternoon, taking a break from jamming, Tina went into The Sick Room (the bedroom Maggie and I shared) to smoke some weed, as The Sick Room was the designated smoking area of the house. When she came back out, she said: “I was admiring some of those pictures up on your wall.” The way she was smiling told me exactly which ones she meant: the nude pinup photos of me. “They’re great pictures, and you have lovely pink nipples.” I blushed so hard my cheeks were probably the same color as my hair, and lord, when I tell you I was ready to drag her back into my bedroom and rip off my shirt right then so she could admire my nipples in person… Alas, I did not.

—Memory: That first mix tape I made for Kimball, back in ‘99, and how he later told me that he’d played it at a party, and everyone gave him compliments, and he said: “This tape was made by someone a decade younger than any of you, who has better taste in music than all of you combined.”

—Memory: That time Cameron was visiting, and he and P. and I were all hanging out drinking after I’d put D. to bed. I don’t remember how the topic of punk/being punk even came up, but Cameron said: “Jessie’s so much more punk than I am. Granted, I’m not really punk, but Jessie’s so punk. She’s the punkest person I know.” And P. replied: “Hell, I was in a decently known punk band and Jessie’s punker than I am.” And I was just watching it all, thinking: “Keep it up boys, keep it up.”

—Memory: That first letter Freddy sent me, how he called me one helluva lil’ punk rocket.

—Those are the kinds of compliments I really get off on. Yeah, I like people saying I’m hot, but if you tell me I’m the punkest person you know who makes the best mix tapes? Oh baby, I’m yours, haha.

—It’s fucking Pisces season, and I’m losing my mind a little bit. I’m horny and restless and yearning, and crying all the fucking time. My memories are vivid and thick; so are my dreams.

—Last Monday night, I had a dream where I witnessed a giant wolf (all wolves are large, but this wolf was like, fuck-off huge) bite the throat out of a deer. It was extremely vivid and gory, so much so that even though I wasn’t in danger in the dream, it woke me up. It woke me up, and I just knew my period had started. I was right.

—Tuesday night, I dreamt that I ran into Les after all these years, at some punk show out in the middle of the Wisconsin woods, and we finally got to fuck in the van. It was really hot, and it’s always nice when my subconscious throws me a bone like that. Unfortunately, I woke up from that dream, too, and never got back to sleep.

—One of the benefits to drinking less is that I get better sleep. I don’t necessarily sleep more, but I get better quality sleep, overall. I still stay up late, but instead of staying up drinking, I stay up writing, or reading, or watching movies, and when I do fall asleep, I generally get more quality sleep than I used to. That said, there are still nights I sleep like shit for whatever reason, and god, I am ruined the next day. And that’s without having a hangover on top of it! How did I used to stay up all night writing and drinking, and then party for two days straight afterwards? Now, even if I’m stone-cold sober, if I get less than five hours of good sleep, I am barely functional the next day! So yeah, Wednesday was difficult.

—Here are a few of the things that have made me cry in the past week:

The newest issue of the Peninsula Pulse, which included a little write-up of Green Blah!, and also an interview with Patch McPanic, frontman of my beloved Door County punk band, Ballistic Biscuit. I mean, I was already having feelings about Wisco punk because of seeing the documentary, and that didn’t help.  And then I read the article/interview, and it turned out…Ballistic Biscuit played a reunion show at Husby’s. The weekend of the festival. While we were up there. I could have fucking seen them live after twenty-nine years, if only I’d known. And of course then all the what-ifs. If I’d ever written a letter to Pogo like he’d asked me to when I ran into him back in 2021, and we had kept in touch, he’d have let me know about the show well in advance. So yeah, I cried about all that.

P. bought a jar of maple syrup from [redacted 3]. [Redacted 3] is Coyote Boy’s last name.

Thinking about Freddy, and how badly I fucked that all up. How he was my last big, all-consuming crush, and I’m kinda scared to think I might never feel that way again. And also how, more than anything, I wish I’d dealt with it better so he was still in my life as a friend, because I miss having punk rock-coffee-art-adventure friends, and he was all of that.

Finding out that not only did I miss the Ballistic Biscuit show, I am also going to be missing the Subhumans show in April that I’d planned to go to. See, I was gonna buy tickets for me and Beagan, but then she said she didn’t want to go, and then I was like, okay, I guess I’ll go with P., but then I had to use the money I’d set aside for tickets for bills. Well, as of last week I finally had the money to spare, but I went to the website for the venue to order tickets and…it’s sold out. Fuck.

And then David Johansen died! And I know he’s been ill for a long time, and I know he was 75 and it’s not tragic, but. Like if I thought I was sad when David Lynch died, that was nothing in comparison. I don’t know how to explain it. I’ve touched on it before in my writing, but I don’t think I’ve ever fully been able to express it—I owe my femininity in large part to the glam rock/proto-punk bands, most especially the New York Dolls. And that’s not even touching on the other reasons for my sadness around this. Maybe one day I’ll be able to put it in words, who knows.

—Signs of spring: a few days of leather jacket weather, birdsong in the morning, the light lasting longer and longer into the evenings, the trains going by all day and night long.

—Signs of spring and I’m restless as hell and full of longing. It’s been like: “I wanna create but I have no inspiration, I’m not even inspired for activist work right now, everything sucks, and there is nothing interesting happening in the foreseeable future now that the Subhumans show is a no-go.” There are times when experiencing other people’s art, writing about my old, wild life, and the occasional walk around my neighborhood or visit to the library just don’t cut it in terms of excitement and inspiration. I need some kind of Big Thing to Fuck Up My Life, but not a boring, awful one; not something like my car breaking down, or the power getting shut off, or a major illness or injury. Nothing like that, you hear me, Universe? I’m talking good damage, sexy damage. Or just something a little interesting to shake up my routine. I need to sit in a dark bar during the day, and people-watch, and write. I need to take a day trip to some random town just to go to a diner and a thrift shop, then drive home. I need a brand new hairstyle, or a new tattoo. I need an all-consuming crush, a muse, someone to come pick me up, take me out, fuck me up. Even if it all ends in heartbreak! I need Big Feelings! I need to get banged up in the pit at a punk show, or to have the kind of sex that leaves me covered in bite marks and bruises. Yeah, I’m fucking 43 and I still wanna fuck on the floor and break shit! I would call this a midlife crisis, except a similar one has happened every spring since I was a teenager, so it’s more of a seasonal crisis.

—Something I’ve realized in my new, drinking-less life is when and why I have a tendency to drink to excess. And it’s not actually when I’m sad, or at least not when I’m truly depressed. (Maybe that used to be one of the reasons I drank too much, but I learned years ago that, to quote Tom Waits, it don’t douse the flames.) It’s when I’m feeling like this—restless, manic, longing. Because it’s something to do, and also because, when I’m drunk, I’m more content in the moment, less desperate for something to happen. I’m glad that I’m in a place now where, despite wanting to get wasted just to ease these feelings, I don’t.

—So yeah, that’s where I’m at, these days. Sad about the past, restless in the present, bummed about the things I’m missing out on. Still, I’m managing not to mope too much; I’m not gonna ignore the good things just because they’re not exactly what I’m craving in the moment, or stop making future plans even if my original plans have gotten derailed. Here are some things that have been helping/that I’ve been enjoying in recent days, in no particular order:

Drawing a lot, especially with charcoal, graphite, chalk, and oil pastels—anything that’s really messy and visceral.

Wearing my dad’s old plaid shirts.

Setting up my altar and doing rituals to channel the spirit of Kathy Acker as muse for some of my current writing projects.

Finishing up my spoken word EP. The main vocal tracks are done, now I’m adding some ‘backing’ vocals and music. I’ve added theremin on a couple tracks, and on a couple others I’ve recorded accordion parts that I then ran through heavy distortion filters.

Making YouTube versions of ancient mix tapes.

Sex with P., which, while not as rough as what I’m desiring right now, is always passionate.

Making greasy spoon food at home, drinking my coffee out of a curved white mug, and pretending I’m at a diner.

Signing up for a recurring jazz and poetry workshop that’s gonna be happening in Milwaukee, starting in April and going through June. A friend of mine is running it, and she gave me a discount, without which I would not be able to afford it.

Mochas with almond milk from the cafe downtown.

Talking with the owner of the new bookstore downtown about using the space to teach my ‘writing with the tarot’ workshop.

Flirting with a beautiful woman I met at the bookstore. (When she first walked in, I’m pretty sure my tongue unfurled and my eyes popped outta my head like I was some kind of cartoon wolf.)

Making eyes at the punk guy who lives in my neighborhood. We haven’t talked yet but I see him around a lot; he wears a leather jacket and creepers and has a Ramones haircut.

Making plans to go to a different show at the same venue where Subhumans are playing—Flatfoot 56 and The Crombies and a couple other bands. Though, the other night, when I suggested it to P., I said: “The Subhumans show is sold out, maybe we can go to this other one instead?” And his response was: “Or we could just not go to a show, and spend the money on stuff we need.” I was just like: “Okay, well, I just thought it would be fun, we’ll talk about it later.” What I was thinking was: “I don’t know about you, but I do need it. So if you don’t feel like going, you can stay with the kids, and I’ll go alone!” That wouldn’t have gone over well, so I’m glad I restrained myself, and hopefully he’ll come around.

FIN.

[galaxy-stardust]

Simon Ghost Riley x you

He meets your brothers

You stretched out on the couch, a lazy smile on your lips as you watched your younger brothers bicker over the video game.

“Mate, you’re absolute trash at this,” your youngest brother groaned, tossing his controller onto the coffee table.

“Oh, shut up,” the other scoffed. “Like you did any better.”

You chuckled, sipping your drink. It had been a long time since the three of you had spent a proper sibling day together. With life pulling you in different directions—your work, their own responsibilities, and the fact that you had a relationship now—these moments were rare.

And Simon was away on a mission. Again.

You missed him, but at least today had been a good distraction. You’d spent the evening catching up, watching movies, drinking, and stuffing yourselves with junk food.

The clock was creeping toward midnight, and you were just about to declare a rematch when the sound of the front door unlocking made you freeze.

Your brothers went quiet too, eyes darting to the door. You felt your heart leap into your throat—only one person had a key to your place.

The door swung open, and there he was.

Simon.

Dressed in his usual dark gear, his mask pushed up just enough to reveal his strong jawline. His eyes immediately sought you out, dark and intense, and you felt the breath hitch in your throat.

“Simon?” you breathed, already moving toward him. “What—”

“Mission wrapped up early,” he murmured, his voice low and rough from exhaustion. “Didn’t feel like spending the night on base.” His eyes softened slightly as he reached for you, his gloved hand settling on your waist. “Missed you.”

Warmth spread through you, and you leaned into him without hesitation. “I missed you too.”

A loud, exaggerated cough broke the moment.

“Uh, hello?” your youngest brother piped up, eyebrows raised. “Are we just gonna ignore the fact that a giant masked man just walked into the apartment like it’s normal?”

You sighed, stepping back from Simon slightly but keeping close. “Right. Simon, these are my younger brothers.” You turned to them with a smirk. “Boys, this is Simon.”

The older of the two narrowed his eyes slightly, crossing his arms. “So this is the guy, huh?”

Simon tensed subtly beside you, clearly already assessing the situation like it was a battlefield. “Yeah. That a problem?”

Your youngest brother, the more reckless of the two, smirked. “Depends. You treating our sister right?”

Simon’s hand on your waist flexed slightly, and you knew he was fighting the urge to say something cocky. But instead, he simply met their gazes head-on. “Better than anyone ever could.”

Your stomach flipped at the certainty in his tone.

The boys exchanged a look before your older brother sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “Alright. I’ll admit, that was a decent answer.”

Your youngest grinned. “Still gonna have to test him, though.” He nodded toward the gaming console. “You any good?”

Simon arched a brow. “At what?”

“Video games.”

You bit your lip, looking up at Simon. “You don’t have to—”

But Simon was already moving toward the couch. He plopped down, grabbing a controller with an air of confidence that had both of your brothers watching warily. “Load it up.”

You hid your smile as your brothers scrambled to set up the game, a competitive energy filling the room.

Simon leaned back, glancing at you with that familiar spark in his eyes.

“I’ll win,” he murmured, low enough for only you to hear.

You shook your head, biting back a laugh. “You’re ridiculous.”

His gloved fingers brushed against yours briefly. “And you love it.”

Yeah. Yeah, you did.

You leaned against the armrest of the couch, watching the unfolding war between your brothers and Simon with barely concealed amusement.

The match had barely started, but already, the tension in the room was thick. Your younger brother was leaning forward, tongue poking out slightly in concentration, while your older brother had a deep frown of determination on his face. Meanwhile, Simon sat relaxed, one arm draped over the back of the couch, controller in hand, completely unbothered.

That should’ve been their first warning.

Because Simon *never* looked relaxed unless he was in full control.

“You sure you’ve never played this before?” your younger brother asked suspiciously as Simon’s character dodged yet another attack with effortless precision.

Simon made a noncommittal noise, barely sparing him a glance. “It’s not that different from actual tactics.”

Your older brother scoffed. “Yeah, alright, Ghost. Next you’re gonna tell us you use this in real life.”

Simon’s smirk was barely visible under the edge of his mask. “Not exactly. But I know how to predict an enemy’s next move.”

Before either of them could respond, Simon’s character executed a flawless combo, wiping out both of them in a matter of seconds.

Silence.

Then—

“Oh, *come on!*”

Your younger brother threw his hands up while your older brother groaned, running a hand down his face.

You couldn’t help it—you burst out laughing.

Simon just set the controller down, stretching slightly, looking entirely too pleased with himself. “Nice try, lads.”

Your younger brother pointed at him accusingly. “You *lied!* You’ve totally played this before.”

“Not this game,” Simon said easily, leaning back. “But a fight’s a fight.”

Your older brother let out a dramatic sigh, rubbing the back of his neck. “Well, guess we know who’d be the last man standing in a zombie apocalypse.”

You smiled, reaching over to squeeze Simon’s arm. “I could’ve told you that.”

Simon hummed, glancing at you, eyes dark with something unreadable. His gloved fingers brushed over your knee, a barely-there touch, but one that sent warmth curling in your stomach.

Your younger brother, oblivious, grabbed another drink and flopped back into his seat. “Alright, so maybe you’re decent.”

Simon raised a brow. “Decent?”

Your older brother chuckled, clearly warming up to him now. “He means you’re good, but we can’t let you get a big head.”

Simon smirked. “Bit late for that, mate.”

You laughed again, watching as they settled into an easier rhythm.

It wasn’t long before the conversation started flowing more naturally. Your brothers started asking Simon about his job—not the classified details, of course, but the things he could share. He answered in his usual clipped manner, but you could tell he didn’t mind. And, surprisingly, he even asked them about their own lives, listening with genuine interest.

By the time the clock hit 2 a.m., the room had shifted from initial tension to something more comfortable. Your younger brother yawned, stretching. “Alright, I’m calling it. I’m beat.”

Your older brother nodded, standing and stretching as well. He shot Simon a look, a small smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re alright, man.”

Simon tipped his chin in acknowledgment. “Likewise.”

Your youngest brother wasn’t as subtle—he gave you a look before jerking his thumb toward Simon. “I still don’t get what you see in him, but if he makes you happy, I guess I won’t fight him.”

You rolled your eyes, shoving him playfully. “Like you could even if you tried.”

Simon chuckled lowly. “Smart lad.”

Your brothers gathered their things, giving you quick hugs before heading out, leaving you alone with Simon.

The moment the door shut, you let out a breath, turning to him with a raised brow. “Well? What do you think?”

Simon exhaled, his hands finding your waist, tugging you close. “They’re protective.”

You grinned. “That’s an understatement.”

“They care about you,” he murmured, voice softer now.

Your heart warmed. “Yeah. They do.” You tilted your head up at him. “And?”

He smirked, fingers trailing up your spine. “And I like ‘em.”

You smiled, leaning into him. “They like you too, you know.”

Simon hummed, running a gloved thumb along your jaw. “Good. ‘Cause I’m not goin’ anywhere.”

Your breath caught as he leaned down, lips ghosting over yours in a slow, teasing kiss. You melted into him, fingers gripping his shirt, the warmth of his body chasing away the late-night chill.

Yeah. Simon fit here. Maybe in his own rough, unpolished way—but he fit.

And that was all that mattered.

[starryylies]

What about Si with a reader who's giving him the silent treatment? I feel like at first he'd be like "fine whatever" but after like 10 minutes he begs his princess to talk to him

Silent treatment and Simon

Hii thank you sm for the ask! I loved writing it <33

Sorry if it got a bit self indulgent though.

It’s heavy on comfort so hope you enjoy!

You’ve been ‘off’ Simon could tell something’s going on but he couldn’t pin point why it’s going wrong.

Youve been ignoring him since he came home that night after his deployment, giving him short and curt greetings and replies a contrast to your sweet and elaborated ones.

He thought he’d let you deal with whatever you’re going through without butting in.

But no,

Just no

He couldn’t stand there and watch his baby look so down,

He couldn’t stand not hearing your sweet voice echo in the room.

He couldn’t stand the thought that you’re getting tired of him.

He was an overthinking wreck,

All possible ideas came to his mind as to why you’re ignoring him.

“Maybe she’s tired of me, ‘m a fucking mess aren’t I.”

“Maybe she found someone else, someone her own age. Nah fuck no, she wouldn’t do that. Would she..?”

His mind was going on overdrive and he broke down.

And now he found himself marching up to your shared room where you sat on your bed watching a movie.

He turned off the movie and put you on his lap.

“Love what’s happenin’ whys my baby ignoring me huh? Did I do somethin’ wrong?”

“Are ya tired of me?”

He croaked out the last question, tears welling up in his eyes.

You looked at Simon as if you’d seen a ghost

“You really think I’ll be tired of you? I’m here thinking yr’ gonna be tired of me” you confessed with tears welling up in your eyes now.

“It’s just that, I know I can be a piece of work sometimes. I probably just make life harder for ya so I thought maybe keeping my mouth shut wouldn’t annoy ya like I annoy others.”

Simon is hurt to hear you say that, how could you think you annoy him. He fights to come home so he can listen to your sweet voice and look at that pretty face.

And who the fuck told you you’re annoying?

He holds it in him to ask that later because he doesn’t want to stray from the conversation going on but he makes a mental note to give them a personal visit when you’re done

“I don’t even know why you’re with me there’s so many people out there who are better, prettier, more competent.”

“I’m nothing si,I’m not the girl you make me out to be. I’m so scared of the day you start seeing me the way I see myself”

Simon felt his heart break in pieces when he heard you say such cruel things about yourself.

How could he feel okay when the love of his life thought so badly about herself

How could he show you you’re the prettiest and the only woman that matters in his life

“Ya fucking stupid?”

He asked curtly, regretting his harsh words the second he spit them out.

“Excuse me?”

“No genuinely are ya fucking stupid, you fucking think I’ll get tired of you- the first and the only thing that’s ever mattered to me?”

“Fuckin’ hell lovie you’re the most beautiful woman I’ve seen and yr’ important person in my life.”

“Ya think you make life tougher for me? Ever since you’ve come in my life you’ve made it liveable, you made life seem something worth experiencing, I was just blood and guns before I met you, now I’m a person”

“Fuck id kill for you, die for you, do anything for you. You seriously believe I’ll ever get tired of ya? Because if you do I’m sorry to say you’re a fuckin’ idiot”

Tears prickle down your face as you hear his confession,

You’ve been feeling so insecure, so incapable and so unlovable these past months when simon was away, you’d forgotten how much he loves you.

You cried into his chest, gripping onto him and nestling yourself in his arms.

His beefy arms rubbed your back as he cood at you, telling you how much he loves ya and how he will never get tired of you.

[melwsnt]

────── ⋆⋅☆ RAINY CONFESSIONS, DEAN WINCHESTER

summary. being in love with Dean Winchester is basically like torture.

please lmk if you’d like a part two :)

word count. 1,7k

my masterlist

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Dean’s words echo in your mind. They feel so far away, yet he’s right in front of you.

Hypothetically, you should tell him, right? It’s Dean. He’ll probably laugh a little bit, maybe humiliate you without knowing he is, and realize what you’re saying is not a joke.

You replayed the moment in your mind, over and over again, for months, really. Probably even since the very first moment your eyes met.

He was mean, he was cold, you thought he was an asshole and he hated you at first, but you couldn’t help being drawn to that, because it’s Dean Winchester, you’d be a fool not to.

Dean’s presence always made you feel at peace. You’re not exactly sure why- the man doesn’t scream ‘I’m safe and I’m nice’.

But perhaps, that’s why you feel the way you do. You do- feel safe with him around. You know whatever happens to you, it’ll be fine because he’ll be there to protect you, and god forbids someone crosses you or hurts you.

He gets soft with you. Sam’s never seen him act like that- not even he is allowed to put you in your place from time to time, tell you when you’re wrong- or when he doesn’t agree with something you did or say. Dean will always be there to tell him to shut the hell up.

It made you laugh at first, then Sam dared to say something about how weird it was. About how Dean had never cared about someone that much, he’d never been this protective.

It made you think. And you quickly realized that maybe, the thought of him treating you this way, making you feel all sorts of emotions, perhaps meant that you had feelings for the man.

You didn’t like it one bit- at the beginning. It felt foreign, it felt embarrassing, and humiliating, knowing that a man like Dean wouldn’t go for someone like you. He wouldn’t for anyone really- at all. Except maybe one night stands.

Dean didn’t do relationships. He didn’t do attachement, and you certainly didn’t think he did loving.

He was coming from a broken home, a messed up family, everyone around him had pretty much died once or twice, maybe more. He didn’t know how to give his heart to someone, because he was scared of it being broken time and time again.

You knew that. It was obvious. He was just like you. Except you did the loving- the attachement. And if it came to Dean, you would definitely do the relationship.

Dean was confused. He stood in front of you, asking a bunch of questions on a case, and you just- looked like a ghost. You were here but you weren’t.

It felt like ages before you actually looked up, and realized he was addressing you.

‘Wow, you okay there?’ Dean’s stance was the same as always. His hands sat perfectly on his hips.

‘I’m here. Sorry, just thinking.’

‘Yeah? Wanna share with the class?’ He smirked.

You let out a laugh, although Dean could tell it was a fake one. You weren’t laughing because it was funny, but because you were uncomfortable, it was ridiculous.

‘Not really, no.’

Dean took a chair from around the table and sat in front of you.

‘C’mon. You look miserable, you haven’t said a word in like an hour, what the hell’s going on?’

That was his way of being protective over you. He wouldn’t say it, but this bothered him.

You sighed, your hands in your lap, sitting on the bed and Dean still staring at you. His eyes burned holes on you. He examined you closely, and you felt your entire body grow hot.

‘I’m fine,seriously. Just tired, I guess.’

‘You’re a horrible liar. If you were really fine, you’d look up when talking to me.’

And yet you still didn’t dare to look up. He was pushing you, and you feared you were about to break.

Dean, seeing you not answering, pushed his chair closer, if he had to stay here and stare at you until you broke and told him what’s wrong, he would.

‘Okay, enough with the self loathing. Why are you acting like this?’ It was his turn to sigh.

‘Because! My god Dean, how oblivious are you? Seriously! It’s getting on my nerves. You stand there, and it’s like you see me but you don’t! Sure you laugh at my jokes, you look at me, but you don’t- you don’t see me!’

Not sure where that came from, and now on your feet, you made your way to the motel door.

Dean, still confused, jumped on his feet too.

‘Where the hell do you think you’re going?’ He yelled after you, still trying to understand what was happening.

‘Going on a walk!’ You yelled back, threw the door open and slammed it.

The irony of it all though, it was raining. Pouring, really. Like in those cheesy romcoms Dean pretends to hate but secretly has a fun time watching with you.

The rain wasn’t a problem, the problem was you realizing that the door had opened again, and Dean was going after you.

‘Will you stop?’ His voice almost sounded like a whisper in the rain.

‘Go away!’ You weren’t even sure he’d heard that, because the next thing you knew, his hand was grabbing you by the elbow.

Soaked by the rain, you finally looked up.

‘Did you mean that? Do you really think I don’t see you?’

‘Do you? Do you even know how long I’ve spent building up the courage to tell you how I felt? And every time I got even the tiniest bit close to it, I felt like a joke. You- made me feel like a joke. And it’s stupid because I can’t even be mad at you for it!’

Dean went to interrupt, but you didn’t let him.

‘No, let me finish, please. I wanted to run and hide, so many times, but I didn’t because a life without you- even the thought of it makes my heart stop. It’s like I can’t breath whenever we go on a hunt together, I’m always so scared something will happen to you. Dean, you’re just- you’re you! And I can’t possibly understand how you could even think that way about me, but if you do, I need to know. I need to know if I’m embarrassing myself, or if all those sleepless nights were worth it. Dean, please I just.. I have to know.’

Dean was speechless. He had so much to say yet nothing would come out.

You felt like an idiot. His mouth was opened as if he was about to talk, but he threw his arms in the air, as to say he didn’t know what to respond.

‘Right. Good to know.’ You laughed without meaning, your hand wiping the water on your forehead.

You turned your back to him and walked away without really knowing where to go.

‘I don’t know how to do this!’

His voice echoed, this time stronger than yours.

You turned around, wanting to hear him out, desperately waiting for an answer. Your arms crossed over your chest.

‘I don’t- I’m not good at this, okay? It’s not something I do. I know, alright? Sam brings it up all the time. How you and I are great together, how much you care about me and me about you. But c’mon, seriously? Why on earth would you go for me? You know I don’t do this. You know i’m not good for any of this. Believe me, you’d have more chance with anyone else.’ You’d gotten close to him in the short time he spoke.

‘You actually think that way of yourself? Dating is not like breathing Dean, it’s not something you know how to do. It’s something you learn, overtime. Do you think i’m good at this? I mean I spent months stressing over every little interaction because I was scared to blur it out. I’m in love with you dean, and i’m tired of apologizing and hiding from it. You don’t have to answer now, you don’t even have to do this with me. But God please stop thinking you’re screwed up in every single department, because you’re not.’

After rambling for what felt like hours, Dean held a small smile on his face. It wasn’t a smirk like he did so well- it was an actual smile.

‘Can you repeat that?’

‘Repeat what? That was a long speech Dean i’m not doing that again.’ You shook your head.

‘Not the whole thing, that crazy thing you said.’ He walked even closer to you, making your heart quicken.

‘The I love you part? Yeah I love you! And i’m not sorry! You’ll have to get used to it, because if I have to tell you that again and again I will-‘

Dean’s lips interrupted you. They were hot on yours, fiery and passionate, and full of love that was yet unspoken on his part. They fit like perfect pieces of a puzzle assembling together. It felt like months of tension, and anger built up being broken apart, like shards of glass.

‘Does that answer your really really long speech?’ His forehead was on yours, lips still hot from the lingering kiss.

‘Hmm. I can live with that for now, if there’s more where that came from.’ You smiled, your hands on each side of his face.

‘Plenty. There’s plenty of it.’ He kissed you again, this time slower, less needy, as to tell you it’ll all be okay.

You could live like that until he’s eventually ready to say the three little words. You knew he felt the same, but you didn’t have to hear it yet, as long as he was by your side, kissed you some more, and took his time to be really sure that’s what he wanted, you’d be okay with it, because it’s Dean Winchester, and not only would you do anything for him, but you’d wait for an eternity to hear him say it back.

[crashandlivewrites]

Cherry Pie

A wondering happy birthday to my sweet Cherry @soapsgf who wanted some soft and sweet romantic smut with big dicked Simon. This one's for you, darling <33

Pairing: Simon Riley x fem!reader (Cherry)

Summary: It's been a while since you've been intimate with a partner, and Simon takes good care of you.

CW: MDNI 18+ content, NSFW, cunnilingus, fingering, consent checks, first time between partners, big dick Simon, unprotected piv, creampie

Word Count: 4.2k :))))

Simon was your first partner after a long, long stint of failed dates. You’d met him by chance, out one night with a group of friends when you’d bumped into a solid mass of muscle walking out of a bar. He’d caught you, set you right on your feet with a few words of being careful of your surroundings before seemingly melting into the shadows, despite his size. 

The next morning, you’d stopped by a local cafe. The barista called your name and you grabbed your drink, spinning around quickly only to have a heavy set of hands grip you tightly. Panicking for a moment, you looked up, ready to try and fight off your attacker, when you took in the strangely familiar face. 

“You’re… you…”

“That’s twice within twelve hours, sweetheart. Starting to think you’re making a habit of this.” His voice was accented, deep, and gravelly, making your hair stand on end. 

“I didn’t meant to— I’m sorry—” 

“It’s fine, doll. You couldn’t take me out even if you tried.” He huffed out a chortle at that and you felt your face shift into an expression of mild amusement. Then, with a surge of confidence you weren’t even aware you possessed, you met the heavy gaze of his dark eyes. 

“No, but I can give you my number, and then maybe you can take me out instead.” 

The man blinked, the smile still ghosting on his cheeks as he tilted his head, watching you. Suddenly, it felt like he was scrutinising every aspect of your appearance and you ducked your head, feeling your face heat. 

“Ah forget it, sorry, I just—” You’d moved to exit the cafe, but a firm arm wrapped around your waist. 

“I’ll take you up on that offer, if it’s still on the table.” Blinking in surprise, you looked up at him. One corner of his lips was twitched up into a smirk, his brow slightly raised and you couldn’t help but feel your lips pull into a grin as you nodded. 

“Name’s Simon.” He told you as you quickly scribbled your number on a piece of paper. As you handed it to him, he opened in and frowned slightly. “No name?” 

“Take me on that date, Simon, and you might be lucky enough to get it.” The smile that broke out on his face made your stomach flip, and somehow you knew this was the start of something. 

•

Several months down, you and Simon had settled into a steady routine. Whenever he was back from deployment, he slotted himself neatly into your life, as if he hadn’t missed a beat. It was refreshing, to have someone like him, someone who was willing to work through things, instead of ignoring them. 

Including sex. 

You’d first breached the topic with him a few months in. He’d come back from deployment and there was something about him in his gear, still sweaty and dirty from his time out. Simon had stood there, leaning against your doorframe as you’d opened the door and you felt your heart rate pick up. 

The look in your eyes had clearly sparked something in him, and he surged inside, kicking the door closed and pressing his mouth to yours. He steered you towards the couch pressing you against the back of it before one of his hands ran up the back of your leg roughly, hitching it around his waist. 

In a moment of panic, realising where this was going, you broke the kiss, a firm hand placed in the centre of his chest. Though his brows furrowed, he acknowledged the look on your eyes, and slowly let you down. Fear bubbled inside you at the thought of possibly upsetting him, but he placed a reassuring hand on your cheek. 

“It’s alright, doll. Just talk to me.”

“It’s… been a while.” 

“We don’t have to do anything,” He said gently, thumb stroking your cheekbone. “Not until you’re ready.” 

“But you want it—” A thumb pressed against your lips, stopping your words before you could finish your sentence.

“It doesn’t matter what I want, lovie. If you’re not feeling it, or you’re not ready, I’m not going to force it.”

Swallowing thickly, you looked up into his earnest eyes and realised that, yes, he’s different from the rest. 

“I still want to kiss you, though.” Your words were softly spoken, but were met with a chuckle as Simon tilted your head back, cupping your head. 

“Kissing I can definitely do for you.” 

•

The time came a month or so later. Simon had messaged in the early afternoon, telling you to get all dolled up and pretty because he was going to take you out for the evening. He turned up at your doorstep, dressed in cleanly pressed black pants with a black button-down shirt he’d rolled up to expose his thick forearms. You couldn’t help but let your mouth drop open slightly as he leaned against your bedroom door, watching you as you fiddled with your hair. 

Turning around, you got a better look at him, allowing your eyes to unabashedly trace over his broad, thick body. Chuckling, Simon stepped forward, making his way over to you. As he stood in front of you, the soothing scent of cologne wafted over towards you. Unable to stop the sound, you let out a breathy whine and he smirked.

“See something you like, doll?” His hands slid up and down your sides before leaning down to press a kiss against your cheek. “Come on, we’ll be late.” 

He’d made you feel spoiled, treating you to an exquisite dinner at some ridiculously fancy place. You were unable to stop your eyes flitting over to him and admiring just how damn attractive he was as the pair of you sat in the low ambient lighting of the restaurant. Finally as you were headed back home, you were struck with the idea that maybe, just maybe, you felt ready. Simon had always made you feel safe, why should this be any different?

When you arrived home, Simon knelt down, lifting one of your legs up gently to remove your shoes. Placing a soft kiss to your knee, he gently lowered it back down with a hand on the back of your calf. He repeated the process on the other leg before pushing himself up to press a kiss to your cheek. He made a move to walk away, but your hand on his wrist stopped him. 

Though you didn’t talk right away, Simon stood there patiently, waiting for you to find the words.

“Simon...” You murmured trailing off as the words evaded you, choosing to flutter your lashes up at him instead. He looked at you, eyes darkened, tilting his head slightly as he calculated his next words

“What’s on your mind, doll?” 

“I want you.” The words were soft, but firm. Simon, the tease that he was, lifted a brow in mock surprise. 

“You want me to do what?” He smirked, staring down at you expectantly. The grip you had on his wrist tightened. 

“I’m ready. And I want— no— need you to fuck me, Simon.” You could see the change in him, as if a switch had flicked over in his mind.  

“Are you sure?” His voice was rough, layered thickly with desire, but still present enough to look deep into your eyes. “Need to hear those words again, pretty girl.” 

“Yes, Simon,” You assured him, chest rising and falling as you breathed heavily, “I want you.” 

The words broke his resolve and he dove in to seal his lips against yours, moaning softly at the contact. He’d kissed you countless times before, but even you could feel the difference in this one. It was intense and heated, his hands sliding up and down your back and squeezing at your body before he quickly pulled back, panting. 

“Anything that’s too much— too quick— too rough, you tell me, promise?” The gruffness made your hair stand on end, and you shivered in his arms.

“I promise, Si.” Groaning, he pressed his face into the crook of your neck, one large hand cupping the back of your head as he nipped along the column of your throat. 

“I’m gonna make you feel so good lovie, I promise.” Letting out a soft whine, you ran your hands down his chest, squeezing the soft flesh around his waist as you pulled him closer to you, pressing your hips forward. Simon’s breath hitched before he let out a growl. 

“Bedroom. Now.” 

The pair of you hurriedly made your way to the bedroom, mouths never leaving each other’s as you finally felt the doorknob and pushed it open. Having barely stepped into your room, he broke the kiss, spinning you around so he could tug down the zipper of your dress. Moaning softly, he allowed his hands to caress your bare skin as he mouthed up your neck once more. The dress fell to the floor, leaving you almost bare compared to his mostly clothed body. 

He spun you around and, with frightening ease, Simon lifted you up, hooking your legs around his waist as he strode quickly over to the bed. Placing you down gently, he pushed you back so you hit the pillows. Nudging your legs apart with his thighs, he ran his hands over your legs, cupped your ass before sliding up your back. 

“So fucking pretty for me.” He whispered, eyes heady as they stared down at you, hair fanning over the pillow as your chest rose and fell rapidly. Unable to hold himself back, Simon threaded a hand through your hair, gently pinning you to the bed as he lowered his mouth to your neck once more.

Your hands moved to the buttons of his shirt, tugging them open so you could get your hands on the glorious expanse of his chest. His skin was rough, littered with lumps from old cuts and scars, and you wanted to map every bit of it. He seemed to be doing the same to you. His large, calloused hands tracing up and down your body, worshipping every inch of skin as his mouth kissed down your chest and stomach. 

“Lemme taste that pretty pussy of yours.”

Pulling up, he lifted your hips and tugged your underwear off, before pausing, eyes drawn down to the drenched fabric. Running a thumb over it, you watched as his face pulled into a smirk before he tucked the panties into the pocket of his slacks. 

“Still feeling alright, lovie?” A brow was raised in question as he looked at you, fingers tapping on your hip as he waited for a response. 

“Yeah. Please.” Reaching for his hands, you squeezed them gently, causing him to let out a chuckle. 

“Good girl.”

Settling down between your legs, he pushed them apart before dragging his tongue up your wet slit and moaning as he did so. It was wet, messy, and sloppy, but god it felt good to have someone tonguing your pussy like they knew how to. 

Drawing your lip between your teeth, you cut off a moan that was threatening to break free when Simon pulled away to stare up at you. 

“None of that now, doll. Let me hear you. All of you.” He grunted, sealing his mouth back over your cunt with determination. As he moaned, the vibrations ran through you, making you shiver and gasp. Hearing the sound of your breath hitching, he dug his fingers into your hips, pulling you harder against his mouth. That action made a moan break from you, hands threading through the short, blonde hair as he ravished you. 

It wasn’t long before you felt the familiar, toe-curling feeling you’d only been able to give yourself and your breathing change, morphing into soft pants and pleas as your fingers tightened in his hair. Instead of changing his rhythm like you’d had other partners do, Simon kept the same, allowing you to press and roll your hips over his mouth and you needed to find the right spot. 

When you did, your whole body twitched as you let out a moan, arching your back as your legs shook. Simon practically growled into your cunt, eyes flashing open to stare up at you, taking in every slight reaction you gave him. Looking down, you stared into his eyes, dark and hungry which caused your stomach to flip. 

Brows drawing together, your body shivered and you reached down to grip one of his hands as your mouth dropped open as you felt your orgasm wash over you with a cry of his name. Simon grunted, letting out a moan of his own and held you tight to his mouth as you climaxed. 

Breathing heavily, you groaned softly, pushing at his head, but he refused to move, mouth moving down so the ridge of his nose pressed against your clit as he tongued your cunt. He pressed a thumb to the hood of your clit, flicking over it as his other hand kept tight hold of your leg, pressing his tongue deep into you. 

Groaning at your taste, he didn’t stop until he felt your walls shaking around his tongue and your hands tugged more viciously at his hair as you moaned loudly. Managing to get your foot into his shoulder, you shoved him back, looking down to see his smug grin, chin wet and shining with your slick. 

“Still good, lovie?” Though his face was feral, his voice was soft and questioning. Choking out a laugh, you clapped a hand over your eyes. 

“Yeah… just… fuck.” He hummed in approval, pushing himself up to slide up next to you, his hand tracing lightly up your thigh. 

“Need a break?” The smug grin was back as he looked down at you, earning him a slap to the chest. 

“No, but I can help you—” Before you could even begin to reach down for his trousers, he gripped your hand and pinned it above your head. 

“No need, pretty girl. This is about you.” 

“But you—” He pressed his mouth to yours, kissing you deeply as you tasted yourself on his lips. Tracing a hand over your chin, he pulled away, looking down at you.

“This is about you.” He repeated, with more sincerity. “For you, at your pace. Do you want to keep going?” 

“Yes!” The reply was quick your mouth, barely before he’d even finished the question. A wolfish grin spread over his face and his hand gripped your hip. 

“Good fucking girl.” He groaned, hand moving to trail his fingers between your legs. Circling your clit slowly, he breathed soft words of praise into your ear as you whined for him, rolling your hips to meet his rough digits. 

“Look at you. So soft for me. So pliant. You’ve been desperate for it, haven’t you? Don’t worry, doll, I’m gonna make it so good for you.”

As if it were the easiest thing for him, he brought you closer to another orgasm. You could feel the heat coiling in your gut as he kept rubbing over the sensitive bud, pinning your legs apart with his. 

“Don’t hide from me, pretty girl. Let me see everything. Wanna know how good I’m making you feel, how wet you are for me.” 

“Simon…” Your back arched, hand reaching out to grip his body for support. He drew you into his chest, fingers unrelenting between your legs as he held you against the firmness of his chest, covered by a soft layer of fat. Tipping your head back on his shoulder, you gasped out another moan as you came yet again. 

“Fuck yes. My good girl. Look so pretty when you come for me like that. Gonna finger you now, yeah? Stretch that tight cunt out nice for me.”

Mewling in his arms, you turned your head, shaking it slightly. 

“Cock, Simon. Want your cock.”

“I know you do, greedy girl. But patience for me, yeah?” 

“No!” Whining, you pressed your hips back against his. Letting out a huff, Simon moved quickly. Pushing you down onto the bed, he nestled himself between your legs, dress shirt crumpled as your eyes trained down to the swelling bulge in his pants. Smirking, he raised a brow. 

“Yeah, pretty girl. That’s why. Gimme your hand.” Grabbing your wrist, he pulled it down so your palm was pressed against his crotch and he thrust his hips forward. Squeezing your hand around him, you took in the full weight and thickness of his cock, and swallowed thickly. 

“Fuck you’re big.” You blinked your eyes up to him, and the corner of his lips twitched into a wider smile. 

“Exactly, my pretty doll. Need to make sure you’re all nice and lax for me. Need to get that pretty cunt all soaked and messy before you even think about getting my cock.”

Releasing your wrist, he turned his attention back to your pussy, where one of his thick fingers circled your entrance, collecting your slick. Smirking darkly, he leaned down and spat directly on your cunt, making you jerk and moan at the feeling. Spreading his saliva, he plunged his finger into you, and the pair of you moaned in sync. 

He was a vision between your legs. Still mostly clothed, but looked debauched with his shirt pulled open and the sleeves rolled up. The black ink on his tattooed forearm rippled as he thrust his fingers into you. Grunting, his jaw clenched as his eyes were trained on your pussy, watching the wetness soak his finger. 

“Look at you, so fucking eager for it. Can feel you clenching around me. Think you can fit another finger?” Without much preamble, he slid in a second finger with a low breath. “Good girl. Good fucking girl. God, you feel so good. Can’t wait to feel this tight little pussy round my dick.” 

Squirming underneath him, you clung to the sheets, keeping your legs spread for him as your eyes rolled back into your head in pleasure. 

“Fuck, Simon… oh my god.” The erotic, slick sound of his fingers entering your cunt repeatedly filled your ears. Panting, you reached out a hand and gripped his shirt. 

“No no no, not done yet. You’re getting another in you. Come on, pretty thing. You can do it, you can do it, I know you can. Be good for me, yeah?” 

You couldn’t resist. Between the sound of his voice, the way he pinned you so easily against him, the way his fingers curled inside of you… 

A third finger pressed at your entrance and you sucked in a breath, eyes flashing open as you stared into his eyes. The fist you had clenched in his shirt tightened, pulling him down as you grit your teeth. Simon lowered his head, pressing his forehead against yours as the third finger slowly pressed in. 

A guttural moan broke from your throat at the burn of the stretch, but also from the orgasm that he pulled out of you. Swearing, Simon grunted, his fingers plunging into you a little faster as he took advantage of your climax. 

“Good girl. Fuck, look at you. Shit, the sounds you’re making…” His voice cracked as he moaned, breathing turning shaky as you writhed in his arms, pussy pulsing around his fingers. 

With a low growl, Simon pulled his fingers out of you with a wet sound as he yanked his belt off with one hand and pushed his pants down. Gathering yourself enough, you pushed yourself up onto your elbows to watch him. As his cock sprang out from his underwear, you let out a shocked gasp, eyes widening as you took in his cock. 

It was long and thick, with a ruddy head. His balls hung heavy, making you shift your legs wider in anticipation. The action wasn’t missed on Simon, and he grinned hungrily. Spitting on his hand, he used the combination of your slick and his saliva to pump his cock as he ripped at his shirt, pulling it open so you could admire his soft belly. 

The main that left your lips was whiny and pathetic as you stared between his gorgeous body and that glorious cock of his. 

“Simon please… fuck please don’t tease me.” 

“Believe me, doll. Couldn’t tease you right now even if I wanted to. Need to feel your pretty pussy wrapped around me now.” 

Shuffling forward onto the bed, he settled between your legs, tapping the flushed head of his cock on your sensitive clit, making you jerk. 

“You sure you want it, sweetheart? Last chance to back out before I’m filling your tight little cunt.” With your chest heaving, you looked up at him through your lashes. 

“Fuck me, Simon Riley. And don’t you dare pull out.” 

The look on his face turned feral as he hauled you closer, lining his cock up with your wet entrance before pressing in. Your mouth parted wide, but no sound came out as the burning stretch of his cock overtook your senses. Simon let out choked off grunts, fingers clutching into the sheets as he slowly pressed into you. 

Shallowly thrusting, he sunk deeper and his hand moved to cup the top of your head, rubbing affectionately before he finally managed to sink in all the way with a low groan. 

“I know it’s big, I know. Doing so well for me, takin’ it so nicely.” Resting his forehead against yours, Simon inhaled deeply before opening his eyes, staring down at your face. His expression softened as he reached down to wipe a stray tear with his thumb, caressing your cheekbone in the process

“Simon!” You mewled, rocking your hips as your walls clenched, the initial stretch of his cock slowly fading and the need for more slowly rose in you. However, before you could get a rhythm going, a firm hand pressed onto your hip, halting all movement and you blinked your eyes open. 

Above you, Simon’s eyes were squeezed shut with his brows pinched together. His breath was coming out in short pants as sweat beaded on his brow. Frowning, you went to push yourself up to talk to him, but the movement made him release a choked off moan and both of his hands clamped down on your hips, effectively pinning you to him. 

“Don’t— fuck— don’t fucking move.” His voice was rough, on edge as his fingertips dug into the soft flesh surrounding your hips. “Jesus fuck, you’re gripping me tight. Don’t— don’t think I’m gonna last.” 

Reaching out, you gripped his strong bicep and squeezed lightly. 

“It’s okay. Just fuck me Simon please!” 

He didn’t need any further prompting. Wrapping your legs around his waist, Simon began to shift his hips forward, dragging his cock in and out of you slowly. 

“I know, princess, I know.” His voice was hoarse as he ground himself deep into you, the rough hairs on the base of his cock brushing pleasurably against your clit as he circled his hips.

“My pretty girl,” His chest rumbled as he spoke, almost whispering the words to you, “Takin’ my cock so well. Feels so good, lovie. So tight around me.” 

Moaning your assent for him to continue and dragging your nails down his chest, nails that he’d paid for, he finally snapped. Lifting your hips, he angled you how he wanted, throwing one of your legs over his shoulders as he began to fuck into you. It felt like the wind was being punched out of your body with every thrust, but you couldn’t stop yourself crying out with every stretch of his cock. 

“Simon… god fuck! Please, need it.” 

“Fuck, baby I know. I know you do. Feel so fucking good. So fucking tight and wet around me.” Groaning, he pushed forward, placing a hand next to your head as he folded your body and thrust into you hard. You wrapped your hand around his wrist, using it to anchor yourself as you moved your hips to meet every single one of his thrusts, moaning like you were being paid for it. 

“Pretty girl… so pretty on my cock… feels like fucking heaven.” He grunted, panting as he kept his eyes fixed to your face, watching every subtle shift of pleasure that etched itself onto your expression. 

“Need to fill you. Make you mine.” His voice was becoming ragged and airy, signalling how close he was to his release. 

“I am yours, Simon. Only yours.” Whispering into his ear, you clenched your walls around his cock, making the pace of his thrusts stutter as you felt your final orgasm of the evening get pulled from your lax body, making you gasp breathlessly. 

“Oh shit.” Simon moaned, voice cracking as your walls fluttered around him. He grunted, hand gripping onto your hip as he slammed his cock deep into you once, twice before you felt his cock kick inside of you, and he came, his warmth filling you. Lowering his head, he rested it into the crook of your neck as his warm breath fanned over your skin. 

It took several minutes before either of you were coherent again. Simon was first, slowly pulling out of you, rolling you over so he could nestle behind you, holding you against his body. 

“My good girl. My sweet little cherry.” Soft kisses trailed down the back of your neck as he hummed softly, contentedly, his heart beating steadily against you. This was perfect, you thought, and you couldn’t be happier.

Happy Birthday to you xx

[dilf-docs]

X Si Volvemos

ex older bf!logan x younger fem!reader

summary: there are many things you and logan disagree in but not when it comes to things in bed.

warnings: 18+ (minors dni), age gap (phew), smut, ex!logan, exes to ????, p in v, creampie, reader's in her early to middle twenties so her frontal lobe hasn't developed yet; don't expect any reasonable thinking on her side, logan is on his middle to late 40s, angst (duh), this happens in an AU where mutants don't exist bc i don't wanna complicate myself with timelines lol hence time isn't really important but it's contemporary, the vibes i bring to the function are more sad than horny and i'm sorry, toxic too! may build a series around it?

word count: 1,925 words

side note: the incredible @bpmiranda's got me with a very bad case of ex!logan fever :( plus after listening to karol G's album mañana será bonito and seeing i may or may not be obssesed with romeo santos, i got the song in the title on loop: as you can see, it's all very fitting ++ don't forget to check out her stories, they're so good istg!!!!

You shouldn't call.

"Logan" you speak. His name burns in the tip of your tongue, like a secret you're not supposed to tell.

He shouldn't answer.

It's quiet at first on the other line, until a rough voice says I'm here, appearing to be distant, but who is he trying to fool? As soon as he saw the number pop on the screen, his fingers moved with a learned urgency.

You shouldn't keep calling.

"I need you" three words to cover those you actually mean; hanging in the spaces between the silence.

I miss you. I love you.

Your hear a heavy sigh on the other end.

He shouldn't keep answering.

"Princess..." Logan pleads, "don't do this"

You know better than that, he wants to say, but keeps his mouth shut. Just to hear your voice, just to-

"Please, Lo" you whine out. Logan grabs his jeans with force, the fabric strained under his white-knuckled grip. It takes him a lot not to run to you right there and now.

"Don't" but his voice cracks as much as his resistance.

"I've got the house" you whisper the prayer; a routine so sacred none of you seem to break it, "just for us"

"Y/n" even saying your name is painful; like the most addicting and damaging drug to ever exist, "stop"

Logan loved your stubborn heart, but there are times where he wishes you weren't like this.

"I'm sorry" and then he hangs up.

I'm sorry for not being who you needed. I'm sorry I pushed you away. I'm sorry I keep on coming back after I said I would leave you alone. I'm sorry I can't keep my promises.

You feel it around your neck―bruises in the vocals your voice has failed to scream; it chokes you with rage.

"Are you stupid?" you ask yourself in the mirror.

What are you doing? Why are you doing this to yourself? Do you love him more than you love you?

You dial again, but this time, it's a girl who picks up.

"Yeah?"

"Hi. Wanna go out?"

Logan feels so out of place, but this used to be your favorite bar, and he's desperate for a drink.

Listening to your voice has always made him weak, but after you broke up, it drives him crazy.

He empties another glass, feeling pathetic. This is how bad it's gotten: you've got him scouring the places you used to go, chasing your ghost, trying to get a glimpse of your silhouette or a whiff of the phantom of your scent, the lavender haunting him; getting under his skin.

A song beggins playing, and it's the same vinyl set from two years ago. The night he met you: a pretty young thing so out of place in an old bar like that, playing hard to get, only to end the night moaning over him, fogging his car's windows, saying his name in a way no one else had before. He still remembers the way your legs trembled but he held you, beads of sweat confusing themselves with the glitter on your skin. Logan doesn't know what that is, but he's marveled, so in awe of you, everything of you: young, new, exciting.

But every new thing wears out, and the gap he swore wouldn't matter came crashing in years that built a distance between him and you.

So he did what he did best: ruin it. Deny the feelings bubbling inside; let them consume his reasoning, pushing you like he had done with everyone who cared about him before.

When he broke your heart, he took a part with him. So you keep coming back, looking for it; trying to piece yourself together. And he let's you: because God knows you have a part of himself too.

He's so drunk he probably imagines the hint of lavender in the whiskey tinted air. He's so desperate to see you again, he's seeing your face among the crowd. He's definitely gone insane: hearing that laugh he misses every day.

"Y/n..."

The music pauses: all you can hear is your name being said in that way like it belongs to him.

"...Logan"

He walks in autopilot over to the table you and a group of girls are sitting. They're all beautiful―beautiful people attract beautiful people, but he's only got eyes for you.

"What are you doing here?"

He raises a glass he didn't know he was carrying, "having a drink".

Your lips purse, and Logan doesn't know if it's because you're laughing at him or sad.

"I see" but you divert your gaze, looking at your outfit's neck. The outfit you chose: a black dress that pushes your tits on top. They are on display, and Logan feels played by you―his eyes trained on the strained fabric, tongue watering like it did when he would lick your sensitive nipples.

"I see too" he says in automatic, and one of your friends laughs. He looks away, thanking the low lights, or you'd see the red embarrassment on his face.

You stand up and walk over to him, and your friends sense it's time to leave the two of you alone.

"Why did you hang up?" you throw the question so casually; the nerve you have.

"What do you mean?" it's the only thing that comes to his mind. Very stupid, indeed.

You scoff, "delete my number, then"

"You keep on calling" he bites back.

"And you keep answering"

You never shut up. He hates that.

"I may have to stop"

You get closer, way too closer. So much, your hot breathe clouds his judgment.

"Try to" you dare.

And he tries, he really tries. But not today.

Not today when he takes you home, finally looking complete with you in it again. You had moved out after your last discussion, saying you'll never be back.

"You haven't changed a thing" you murmur in between kisses, and he can sense a bit of melodrama in his voice that makes him roll his eyes despite the dull ache on his chest.

He picks up your body swiftly, carrying you up to the bedroom.

"Why would I?" he asks, voice so low and small you almost miss it.

"Because you hate me" you avoid his eyes, even if your faces are too close, loosing all that corageous character of yours, "said you would get rid of it; of everything that reminded you of me"

But when he drops you softly on the matress, there's still that lamp you got him in the night table.

"I couldn't" he confesses.

I couldn't, he means, because I couldn't let you go.

But you both know it won't work out, something you knew right from the start: because toxic loves only fulfill basic needs. This isn't healthy, but he forgets it all as soon as you're moaning his name. Still, he promises himself he will say goodbye to you this time, even if it's inside of you.

"Shut up and kiss me, then" you're always pushing him around, making him do the things he desires to but doesn't want to do.

So he obliges, leaning in, the lavender so strong all over your sweet skin, poisoning his mouth on every kiss he leaves. He feels you squirm under him, goosebumps along your skin, prickling against his, so visible he can see and feel it even in the dim lit room.

"Take it" Logan doesn't look at you, but when he does, you feel him stare deep into your soul, "I know you want it"

He's sliding his dick inside you as soon as the sentence is over, the permission to take you and use you implicit. He robs a drawn-out groan out of you.

"So tight for me" he murmurs against your shoulder, sharp breaths and soft groans flooding your ears. His cock hits deep within you, hard thrust no one has ever been able to replicate, making you gasp for air, burying your face in the plush pillows now drenched in your sweat.

"You're so deep" you hiss, hot and overwhelmed, waves of pleasure hitting like water against cliffside rocks. "So big, Lo" you whine, dizzy at the way your pussy stretches for him.

"Just for you" he grunts out, and it's the truth. No matter how dark the room is or how many faces he avoids, he always looks into the eyes of the other women he fucks, his heart sinking when he can no longer pretend it's you, "fuck, squeeze a bit more".

Hearing his deep voice, rough when you fuck, always making you soak, coating his dick in your juices. You grip tight, as tight as the nails that hold onto his shoulders, making him moan at the pain.

"Like that, princess. Good girl" you moan at the praise, "I know you could take me, all of me"

He grunts and pants, holding you tighter as his cock pumps faster, in sync with your now closer to happening orgasm.

Before it, he slows down his thrusts, "where do you want me to cum, princess?"

He wants to, inside of you, but he can't do so, not when he promised he wouldn't ruin your life. But making you his, marking you as only his, makes his dick inside you twitch. Fuck, he's so balls deep inside you all he can think is filling you up silly.

"Inside me, Lo" like you read his thoughts, and it always amazes and scares him; how deep inside his mind you are. Never happened, not in his four decades of life. And that's part of the problem: he's closer to death than you are but it's only with you, young―blossoming with life, that he feels truly alive.

So how can he say no, when you plead and beg with those pretty doe eyes of yours? Who could imagine such a sweet thing to be so needy. He feels like you could ask for his heart, and he'd carve a hole in his body for you―bleeding out of love; dying with a smile.

"Such a greedy little thing, princess" he mocks, but his tone betrays him―dripping in adoration, "want me to fill you up all nice?"

A broken wail is what he takes as your answer, your mind in blank.

He finds himself letting go, way faster than he should; he just misses you and your needy dripping pussy that much. You can't hold back longer either, rush flowing through your veins, much more satisfying than the alcohol you had drank an hour ago.

Logan paints your insides with layers of his hot cum, mumbling a soft:

"Anything for my princess" he keeps going, panting as he's milked entirely dry, "anything you want, my girl"

Your vision is still spotty, mind fogged: you're sure that's the reason the hurt hasn't settled in your heart yet.

Then the silence comes, like it always does now.

"Y/n" you always love when he calls you by your name, but you hate the way he's saying it now. Like a goodbye.

"Don't-" you plead, begging he shuts up. But he pulls out, and says:

"It's for the best"

You don't want what's best. You want him.

"Can't believe you wore this dress" he traces the pattern of the tight clothes, damped in sweat, "you know it's my favorite. Why?"

You fail to supress a smile, even if it's tired and almost sad, "I knew you couldn't say no".

The truth is, you know many things: like how this is never going to stop until it's destroyed you both.

cr: divider by @kodaswrld / gif @scottxlogan

[evermore-fashion]

Did I make a mistake?

As you're all well aware of I said goodbye to my blogs and Tumblr thinking my decision was final. However after reading all your wonderful messages I started to have doubts about my decision. So for the last few weeks I've been trying to pinpoint why I thought I had fallen out of love with high end fashion as well as Tumblr itself and the answer has been in front of my face for the best part of four years. A broken down friendship that has been plaguing my mental health… until recently and I'm going to finally explain why. I had a best friend for the best part of 15 years that went downhill both slowly and unexpectedly. We met on a forum back in 2005 and hit it off instantly. We then met up and went on various holidays, attended concerts together, did mini weekend breaks away and got to know each other's families really well. More importantly they were the only person in my life who knew about this blog and shared my love for high end fashion. Like most friendships though it had its ups and downs but no matter what we always gravitated back towards one another, until March 2020. A week or so before COVID and lockdown took hold of our lives they told me they had met someone. I was genuinely happy for them, except for the fact they had let slip that I was the last person to know. This broke my heart and their trust as they continued to let slip more details that indicated that I was being pushed out in favour of a new crowd (aka university friends who they had told me they disliked a few months beforehand) alongside their new partner. They stayed with their partner on and off throughout COVID and I was either pushed out the door or let back in depending on their relationship status. The relationship came to an end for good towards the end of 2022 and as always I was let back into their life with plans for 2023 being made. However I held back knowing the hurt it would cause me if things suddenly changed again. This was also my breaking point with them as I wanted to protect my heart from anymore hurt, and I believe this is where my love for creativity began to faulter. Whilst I found my love for gaming I felt this mental block around Evermore-Fashion and Evermore-Grimoire which I thought was down to my passions changing. I was clearly wrong. The friendship was up and down for another six months, until last summer. They had got back in contact with me despite the fact they had started acting cold towards me which manifested in a crap Christmas and Birthday. Yet I was still willing to hear their side of the story, but it never came as they ghosted me and I haven't spoken to them since which hasn't been fun to deal with both mentally and emotionally. Although I now fully believe this is what was killing my spirit and everything I had loved for so long. Anyway fast forward to January 2024, I've said goodbye to my blogs and Tumblr when lo and behold I come across a social media post that changed everything. The ex friend had written something personal that contradicted everything they had told me (over their relationship break up) which not only angered me but it lit a fire under my butt to stop stewing in the "what ifs?" as well as holding on to a small bit of hope that they'd finally apologise for treating me like a piece of shit on the back of their shoe for so long. Not only that but I started to miss why I enjoyed being online in the first place. I checked out Vogue to see what was occurring during Paris Fashion Week and I yearned to share the Spring 2024 Couture collections on Tumblr (even though I still think it's still a toxic cesspit). Yes I could easily start this up on Wordpress or Instagram but let's face it, Tumblr is still the easiest place to start blogging creatively. So here I am. The fog surrounding my love for fashion has lifted alongside the mental and emotional baggage I've been holding on to for far too long. There's just one thing I'm still wondering though… do you guys forgive me (as I feel like I've messed you all around ) and is it okay to come back? 🥹

[withahappyrefrain]

opening the door for them or pulling their seat out before they sit down with bob would be delightful!

You had only been at the bar for ten minutes and already regretted all the decisions you made that led to this moment.

Why did you agree to a blind date?

First of all, it was with your friend's coworker. And no matter how much Natasha said it was fine, you couldn't help but be nervous.

You had heard stories of the squad Nat worked with, some good, some…not so good.

"It's not the Hangman guy, right?" You asked her when she first brought it up.

Nat pretended to gag, "You're my friend, not enemy. It's my WSO."

So there you were, awkwardly shifting in the chair at the bar as you looked towards the entrance for the sixth time, anxiety building up in your stomach and threatening to come out like bile any moment.

This was a horrible idea.

You tried dating, you really did. Various dating apps, going to different bars and strike up a conversation, but nothing seemed to work out. Sometimes you'd get ghosted, other times it would end with you curled up in a ball on your couch with a pint of ice cream while some stupid romantic comedy played in the background. You quickly learned that it didn't matter how great the first or second date went, folks will change their mind about you at the drop of a hat.

At least with Hinge or Tinder, you could see a picture of the person and speak before meeting them. With a blind date, you didn't have that, only the information your matchmaker had given you.

He went by Bob. He was a WSO. From the Midwest, specifically Montana ("Don't refer to his accent as Southern, he will go on a spield '' Nat warned you). Very sweet, but shy at first, which was why he supposedly had trouble finding someone.

He sounded nice. Potentially lovely. But you knew better by now, after years of failed attempts and broken hearts.

Sounding nice didn't guarantee anything.

You wondered what Nat had said about you. Probably that only your parents called you by your full name. That you and Nat met through college was also a given. She's had shit luck when it comes to finding someone, hopefully you can change that?

You checked your phone for the upteemth time. 7:12. He was supposed to be here twelve minutes ago. Surely he wouldn't stand you up, considering he had to work with Nat the next day?

The idea was surprising, but not shocking. Despite the intention of dating, some folks were quite careless when it came to a heart that wasn't theirs. You had been on that receiving end more times than you'd like to admit.

He probably thought the idea of going on a date with his coworker's friend was too risky, too weird. Perhaps he looked you up on social media and found an aspect of you that he didn't like. Thanks to numerous assholes, you could list off several potential reasons. Not pretty enough, not interesting enough, not affectionate enough, too affectionate, too clingy-

The list could go on and on. Thankfully it didn't. Thankfully, the sound of your name, said by a soft voice broke you out of your thoughts and made you turn around.

Oh.

He reminded you of the male love interests from those Old Hollywood films you watched with your grandmother as a small child. Sandy brown hair that was tousled in waves, piercing blue eyes that stood out against his sharp nose and rosy cheeks.

But above all, he looked kind. Truly kind. Maybe it was the lopsided, assuring grin or the way his cobalt eyes shone against the soft lighting of the restaurant.

"Bob?"

His thin lips formed into a saccharine smile as he stepped forward, extending a long arm out.

Holy shit, he brought you flowers.

You couldn't help but stare, wide-eyed and open mouth at the beautiful marigolds and orange sunflowers. You didn't know people still did that-no date had ever done so for you.

"I-I'm so sorry for bein' late. I swear, I'm always on time, I just wasn't sure which flowers to get ya. I-I mean, I knew you liked sunflowers, Phoenix told me that but I wasn't sure if yellow was overdone or if I should do something different and I'm really sorry-"

"You're perfect," your eyes widened at your own words, "The flowers I mean! The flowers are perfect and beautiful and traffic happens, it's okay!"

His smile widened at your reassurance and you swore it melted your heart. Heat rose to your face as you accepted the bouquet, your fingers brushing against his.

The two of you walked to your table. When Bob pulled out your seat for you, your heart fluttered.

There was no way this guy could be real. Why was he single?

Often, the conversation on a first date was awkward and full of long pauses.

Not this one. Not with Bob.

He asked you questions about yourself. Hell, he even asked follow up questions. And they were thoughtful.

Bob felt the same way.

Yes, he found you stunning. But you were much more than that. You were insightful, passionate, kind.

Why on Earth were you single?

Bob was determined to make everyone else's loss his gain.

"Would you want to go get ice cream?" His fingers were tapping the table, a nervous habit that you found adorable, "I mean, I get it if you're tired but if you're not, I'd love to continue?"

A downright dopey smile overtook your face as you nodded enthusiastically.

"I'd love to continue!"

You couldn't hide your surprise though when Bob all but jogged in order to hold the door for you.

"Oh, thank you! But you don't have to do that," you explained. His brows knitted together in confusion, the corners of his lips slightly downturned.

How could one man be so cute?

"Do what?" He asked, confusion all over his voice.

"Oh, um, holding the door?" Was it wrong to have brought that up? Oh God, was he going to think of you as rude?

Instead Bob smiled as he shook his head, "Nonsense. You should never have to hold the door."

Oh no. You were going to be down bad.

As the night went on, your nerves disappeared, giving Bob a sweet smile when he held the door open or pulled out your chair.

You didn't say anything when he held the car door open to drive you home, just that smile that made his heart flutter.

But when he opened the car door after arriving at your home, you stood instead of walking forward.

"I....I had a really good time tonight," the nerves came swelling back. You couldn't recall the last time you had clicked with someone so quickly.

"I did too," his smile warmed your body, "Maybe...if you'd like, we could-"

"Do this again?" God, you really hoped that's what he was going to say. You didn't think your heart could handle it otherwise.

"Yeah," he let out a nervous chuckle, "I'd love to do this again."

Your heart soared. Nat now had rights to the biggest "I told you so" but you couldn't find it in yourself to care at this moment.

"I'm not doing anything this Friday," containing your excitement was difficult. You were positive that big, dopey grin was plastered on your face right now.

Bob loved it.

"I'm not either." That was kinda a lie. Fridays were usually when his squad went out to the Hard Deck to celebrate the end of the week.

But Nat wouldn't mind and that was all that mattered.

You two exchanged phone numbers, hands clumsily typing as you both tried to sneak glances at one another.

Once your respective phones were back in your hand, it seemed like the front door was calling your name.

Not that you wanted to leave.

Offering him coffee at this hour would be silly, no one did that anymore.

"Can I walk you to the door?" His voice was timid, unsure.

"Please." It came out abruptly, as though you had lost control of your mouth, "I mean, yes. I would like that."

When Bob offered his arm, you accepted, linking yours with his.

"This is my stop," you motioned to the front door, earning a chuckle from Bob. God, he was so handsome. And his hands were so large. What would it be like to hold them?

"I had a really good time tonight. Probably the best date I've had in...a while." The dusting of pink that spread across his cheeks was downright darling.

"Could I-"

"If you don't kiss me, I might explode."

Normally you weren't one to be so bold. But the ache inside you was threatening to burst at the seams.

"Oh thank God," was all Bob could get out before pressing his lips to yours.

[endofthelinegang]

slowly

someone get me a stick so i can chase the minors away (18+)

It started with a kiss. Slow, careful, the kind that asked more than it took. Frank’s hands rested on her waist, hesitant, like he was grounding himself, like he was making sure she was really there.

She felt the weight of it—the hesitation, the fear laced beneath the warmth of his touch. His breath was shallow against her lips, and when she pulled back to look at him, his eyes were already shut tight, jaw clenched.

“Frank.” Her fingers traced the scar along his cheek, trying to soothe the tension. He leaned into it like a man starved, exhaling sharply. “Talk to me.”

He swallowed hard, shaking his head. “It ain’t you.” His voice was hoarse, thick with something heavy. “It’s me.”

She knew. She’d always known. Frank Castle carried ghosts like they were stitched into his skin, haunted by a love he lost and the violence that followed. There were parts of him locked away so deep he was afraid of what might come out if he let them loose. And this—letting himself have this, have her—it terrified him.

“I know,” she whispered, brushing her lips over his brow, his cheek, the corner of his mouth. “You don’t have to rush this.”

But he wanted to. God, he wanted to. His hands flexed against her hips, like he was at war with himself, fighting the instinct to pull her closer. “I don’t wanna hurt you,” he admitted, barely audible. “Not with this. Not with my hands.”

Her heart ached for him. For the way he saw himself—as someone capable only of violence, and destruction. As if he didn’t already hold her with more care than anyone ever had.

She took his hands in hers, lifting them between them. “Frank, do I look scared?”

He finally met her eyes, and something in his face cracked. He shook his head. “No.”

“Then trust me.” She squeezed his hands. “Trust yourself.”

Frank exhaled, long and shaky, before nodding. But he didn’t move—not yet. His gaze dipped, lingering at the way her chest rose and fell, at the sliver of skin exposed where her shirt had ridden up. He swallowed, dragging his thumb along the inside of her wrist. Slow, testing. Like he wasn’t sure he was allowed.

She leaned into him, pressing her body against his, letting him feel her warmth. Letting him feel how steady she was. “Just touch me, Frank.”

His hands slid up, fingertips barely grazing her sides. Her breath hitched, and his own chest shuddered at the sound. He took his time, mapping her out, rediscovering how soft she was beneath his calloused palms. His mouth followed, tracing the line of her jaw, the curve of her throat, before pressing a lingering kiss to the place where her pulse pounded.

Every touch was reverent, cautious. His lips, his hands—everywhere he went, he hesitated, like he was afraid he’d ruin her. She let him go at his own pace, let him feel the weight of it, the tenderness of it.

His fingers brushed the hem of her shirt, and she reached down, guiding him, helping him peel it over her head. His breath stuttered at the sight of her—bared before him, trusting.

His hands hovered over her skin, not touching, not yet, his throat working as he swallowed hard. "You’re beautiful."

The rasp in his voice made her stomach tighten, heat pooling low. She took his hands, guiding them to her waist, pressing them to her bare skin. "So are you."

His fingers twitched, his touch featherlight at first before growing more certain. He traced the dip of her waist, the swell of her hips, reverence in every slow, deliberate caress. His lips followed, pressing open-mouthed kisses along her collarbone, across her shoulder, down, down, until she was trembling beneath him.

His name left her lips in a breathless whisper, and Frank groaned, his grip tightening as he pressed his forehead against her sternum, like he needed a second to collect himself. “Jesus, sweetheart. You feel like heaven.”

She combed her fingers through his hair, tilting his head back until his gaze met hers. “Then don’t stop.”

Something in him broke. The hesitation, the fear—none of it mattered anymore. He kissed her again, deeper this time, his hands mapping her body with more urgency, more need. She arched into him, their bodies slotting together like they were always meant to.

When they finally came together, it was slow, aching, every movement deliberate. Frank moved like he was memorizing her like he was carving the feeling of her into his bones. His hands trembled where they held her, and when he whispered her name, it sounded like a prayer.

He stretched her out slowly, groaning at the way she clung to him, how she gasped his name when he sank deeper. He was shaking, overwhelmed by how good she felt, how warm, how real. He rocked into her with an exhale, his forehead pressed against hers, his breath hot against her lips.

She framed his face with her hands, brushing her thumbs over the tension in his jaw, whispering his name like a reassurance, like an anchor. He kissed her through it, slow and deep, pouring himself into every movement, every stroke, every desperate press of his body to hers.

She held onto him like she was the only thing tethering him to the world. And maybe she was.

Frank gritted his teeth as he pushed deeper, his hand slipping beneath her to hold her closer, to keep her with him, to feel as much of her as he could. She gasped his name, fingers tangling in his hair, nails biting into his back. The sound undid him. He was unraveling, but she was right there with him, meeting him stroke for stroke, breath for breath, until there was nothing left between them but heat and longing and everything neither of them could say out loud.

He whispered her name like a prayer as he came undone, holding her tight, pressing open-mouthed kisses to her shoulder, her throat, anywhere he could reach. She trembled in his arms, breathless, spent, and so goddamn beautiful it hurt.

He buried his face in the crook of her neck, breath ragged, holding her like she was the only thing keeping him tethered to the world. And maybe she was.

That night, for the first time in a long time, Frank Castle let himself have something good—and he held onto it as if his life depended on it.

[charlotteking23]

The Lion's Lamb - Chapter 4 - MV1/33

Max Verstappen x reader

The Lion's Lamb Series: Aesthetics, Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.5, Ch.6, Ch.7, Ch.8, Ch.9

The Dutch and American couldn't keep each other out of their thoughts for the next few days.

Max found himself wanting to be around you more often. He found something other than racing, that he felt joy to be around.

You found herself drawn to the dark and mysterious aura that the Dutchman unmistakably had. Something about him made you feel something you never felt before.

In the days since they last saw each other, Max made good use of your number. Within an hour of leaving the coffee shop, he texted you.

Since then, they've been communicating nonstop. If they weren't busy with work, they were either texting or calling each other.

It wasn't until the upcoming Thursday that you felt like Max was becoming distant with you.

You were saddened by the thought. You rarely put Yourself out there, especially towards men, but something about Max made you want to try it.

By Sunday afternoon, Max had called you, extremely excited after winning the Saudi Arabian Grand Prix. It was a close race between Ferrari and Redbull, but Max ultimately won in the end.

You had spent your Sunday painting, trying to keep your thoughts clear of a certain Dutchman. You wouldn't allow herself to think about it more than you should.

You had put yourself out there and was ghosted. You wouldn't wallow in self-pity for a man You had only met once. At least that's what you told herself.

In front of you lay a painting of piercing blue eyes that stared right back at you. You stared back, getting lost in the familiar gaze before the sound of your phone ringing broke your thoughts.

Quickly grabbing the phone without looking at who was calling, you answered, "Hello?"

"Hey," you heard the rough voice of the man who has been haunting your thoughts recently.

"Max?"

"Why do you sound surprised to get my call?"

"I didn't think you would call me," You said lightly, your heart racing just from his voice. "You seemed to not want to talk to me recently."

"I'm sorry, little lamb," You heard him sigh through the phone. "I was away for work and things got busy."

"Oh," You blushed at the pet name he said, "So you weren't done with me?"

"Little lamb, you can't get rid of me that easy," you giggled at his answer before responding.

"How was the work trip then?"

"It went well, but I can't wait to come back and see you again."

"When do you come back?"

"Tonight. I'd love to see you again sometime this week."

"I would love to see you too," you bit your lip nervously. "You have to tell me all about your trip."

"I will little lamb," he chuckled.

The Redbull driver couldn't keep the smile off his face. His little lamb wanted to be around him when he came back.

He was upset that you believed him to be ignoring you when that wasn't his intention at all. Max didn't tell you that he had gone away for work. He's used to people knowing who he is.

The name Max Verstappen has become a household name overnight it seemed. After winning his World Championship title last year, especially under the circumstances, he had built a name for himself. Good and bad.

So for him, you were a breath of fresh air. Being around someone that did know him, or what he does for a living, made him feel normal. As an F1 driver, normal is hard to come by.

Daniel Ricardo, the McLaren driver, and Max's closest friend, watched him on the phone from a distance. He had never seen his friend's face light up as much as it did when speaking to whoever was on the other end.

Daniel was there for the Dutchman since the beginning of his career at Redbull. Max was his younger brother in his head and he wouldn't have it any other way.

The McLaren driver knew that the Dutchman past, knowing he hadn't had the easiest life and his life revolved around racing. After watching the Redbull driver win his first title, the Aussie watched him slowly start to become a recluse.

Riccardo knew the young driver had been struggling since his world championship title came with a lot of controversy. Max wanted to prove to everyone, including himself, that he was a great driver.

Seeing the Aussie walking towards him, the Dutchman quickly told his little lamb goodbye and that he'd call back when he got the chance.

He didn't want anyone to know about you just yet. You were his escape from reality and he refused to share that escape with anyone else in fear of losing it.

"You all good mate?" The Australian driver asked once he got closer to the other driver, noticing the small smile on his face.

"Yeah," he responded shortly, letting the smile drop from his face.

"Who were you just on the phone with?" The driver smirks at his old teammate. He couldn't help but be nosey.

Especially after noticing how quickly he got off the phone when he approached. He wouldn't be Daniel Riccardo if he didn't know any drama.

"No one," Max shook his head quickly, refusing to fall for the other man's antics.

"Did our little Dutchman find a girl?"

"No," Max deadpanned. If he told the Aussie, it wouldn't be long before Lando, the other McLaren driver knew. And the younger driver couldn't keep a secret to save his life.

"You don't smile, especially on the phone, for just anyone."

"Daniel," the younger driver sighed, knowing the smile on his friend's face meant he wasn't going to stop pushing him. "If I tell you something you will drop the subject?"

The Aussie nodded his head vigorously, his classic grin plastered on his face. He just wanted to know what was going on with his friend.

If a girl is making him this happy, he'd like to know about you.

"You can't tell anyone about her okay? I don't need this getting out especially since it just started."

"I promise I won't say anything."

"She's amazing. She's gorgeous and absolutely the most innocent human being out there," he smiles thinking about you he hopes to see tomorrow. "The best part is, she doesn't know who I am."

"She doesn't?" That surprised Daniel, seeming how almost everyone knew who he was. "I don't want to say this, but is she faking this personality to get close to you?"

"No," the Dutchman shakes his head, not even entertaining the thought, "this girl can't lie to save her life. You can see it in her eyes that she has nothing but good intentions."

"Alright," the Aussie nods, choosing to believe his friend. "Where'd you meet her?"

"Coffee shop in Monaco."

"She's from Monaco and doesn't know who you are?"

"She's American, she only moved to Monaco for work."

"An American? Should have just started with that," the McLaren driver grins, "you know how much I love Americans."

Max shakes his head at his friend's comment. Thinking to himself how right his friend is.

The McLaren driver does love Americans, everyone on the grid is pretty positive that the man is a secret American pretending to be Australian.

"Look man," Daniel says while grabbing the Redbull driver's shoulder, "if she's making you this happy, who am I to say shit."

The Dutchman gives the Aussie a slight smile, thinking about you. He can't see you fitting into his lifestyle, yet at the same time, he can't seem to want anyone but you here.

"I want to be the first one to meet her," Daniel slowly gets a mischievous look in his eyes, "I can't promise that she won't choose me instead of you once she sees this beautiful face."

Taglist: @shelbyteller, @smithieandy, @fangirlforever2000, @herexpertcollector, @vip-access

[barefoothighlander]

Hi luv! Can you please do some headcanons of ghost having a civilian wife who is an absolute RAY of sunshine, but he keeps the fact that he’s married a secret even from 141. And when they do find out they’re just like??? How??? She’s like so cute???

yes ugh, soft!ghost has my heart, he'd be such a cutie obsessed with his wife, I love this, also obsessed with gossipy Soap and Gaz, they'd be so invested in Ghost's life

warnings: none just fluff

You and Simon had been married 3 years, meeting 5 years ago while he was on leave back home and you were visiting family

You bumped into him on accident after losing all sense of direction on a back street.

He was intrigued because most people are frightened by his outward appearance, but you just smiled at him apologizing profusely.

He had awkwardly asked for your number and you gave it to him, going on a few dates before he fell madly in love with you. Completely enamoured with your smile and personality, always giggling and happy, a stark contrast to how he usually was.

You made him see things in a softer light, constantly dragging him to farmer’s markets and gardens, he followed your every whim, just happy to spend time with you.

He had proposed a year after the two of you became official, deciding he couldn’t go another day without being married to you.

A week after the proposal he had to deploy, it broke his heart to leave you but it made him even more eager to come back to you.

You knew most of what his job consisted of, he spared you the more gory parts as they always made you squeamish. The two of you making it a rule to keep your relationship secret, even from the rest of the team.

After you married he made a point of calling you every day from base just to check in, even though he’d see you right as soon as he got home.

On a particularly difficult mission, Simon had gotten hit in the head, his helmet knocked off and thrown to the dirt, a small piece of paper falling out.

Soap rushed over to him to make sure he was okay, noticing the small paper and grabbing at it as Simon reached to tear it from his hands. It was a photo of you, hair messy from the wind, skin glowing from the sun outside, bright smile plastered on your face as you smiled at your husband behind the camera.

“Lt have’ya a lass,” Soap asked, dodging Ghost’s attempts to retrieve the photo. “Tell me and I’ll give it back”. Sick of Soaps games Ghost submits. “She’s my wife”

Word spread quickly through the team on behalf of Soap’s loudmouth, all the men rushing to question Ghost about his secret relationship.

“No shot you married her, she’s so.. Cute? Smiley? And you’re so” Gaz is cut off by Simon’s dark stare.

All the men pestered Ghost about meeting you as he continued to decline, Price offering a simple ‘congratulations son’

One day you came to base to drop off some gear that Simon forgot at home, immediately greeted by Soap. “No way” he says, stepping towards you with open arms, pulling you into a hug. You hug him back confused. “Sorry, have we met” “No but I’ve heard a lot about you lass”

Simon rushes out of the base practically tearing Soap off you, giving him a warning with a quiet stare as you tug on his jacket, reaching on your toes to lift his mask slightly, planting a kiss to his lips and smiling before handing him the bag of gear which he takes before running a hand softly over your back.

“This is so strange” Soap responds taken aback by the sight of you two, one tall and brooding, face covered by a skull mask and the other a practical ray of sunshine, wearing a long flowing dress that leaves the top of your chest open to the breeze.

“I will say, you’re much prettier in person, the picture doesn’t do justice” “That’ll do” Simon warns as you giggle.

Against Simon’s wishes you invite the team over for a dinner, the weather was too nice to not eat outside as you got to meet each member, learning more about them than Simon would ever tell you.

“I’m sorry it just makes no sense,” Gaz says as you quirk an eyebrow in question. “I just mean you’re so nice, and the Lieutenant is so daunting” you laugh, “trust me, he’s not so scary with the mask off,” He bows his head in embarrassment as you break down his strict facade.

“So what do you two even do? Gasp does Lt cuddle?” Soap asks almost giggling, Simon swears that he could kill Johnny right there. You spare a glance at your husband before meekly nodding in Soap’s direction as he and Gaz are taken in a fit of laughter, you shrug your shoulders in a silent sorry to Simon.

The team made it a tradition to now show up at your home at least once a week to have dinner and some drinks, or just play some board games, intent on getting to know you better, almost punishing Ghost for keeping you a secret.

Cleaning up dinner Simon slides behind you wrapping you in a hug, a small show of affection he had been holding off on while the team was in view. “You’re telling them too much” As he kisses the base of your neck, you turn your body to him, “It’s nice to get to know them, I like seeing you around your friends” he scoffs as the term, then thinks about it shit maybe we are friends.

The time spent after at work Simon was constantly pestered about when he’d make Price and Soap uncles while Gaz had proclaimed himself as your future child’s fairy godmother.

Simon grew tired of the constant interrogation but felt like a weight was off his chest finally being able to be open about your relationship, though he’d never let the team hear the pet names you call him in private, nor would he let them in on the more tender moments of your time spent together.

The team always telling him that he was nicer when you visited or called him, always nagging to see pictures of the two of you (there were barely any, maybe one where he didn't have his mask on but it was kept secure in the house), and wanting to know when you'd visit.

Ghost was relieved that the team was so nice to you, he'd kill them for even saying a bad word, but he wasn't surprised given your ability to get along with almost everyone, always stopping to say good morning to people on the streets.

They teased him for days after you dropped him off some lunch one time, he had acted angry but he loved the domesticity of your lives, he loved seeing you in his office, a bright figure in such a beige world, he couldn't help the smile that crept on his face at the mere thought of you.

So the two of you welcomed the team into your lives, enjoying the company after living rather solitary. Spilling secrets with Soap and Gaz as Price and Simon looked on, Price with a small smirk on his face, happy that Simon finally found the love he deserved, while Simon sat unamused at Soap's jokes.

[namfinessed]

drinks or coffee - j.jk.

genre: fluff, angst (toxicrelationship!) (6.5k)

summary: when jungkook loves, he loves with no limit, with no holding back and when he leaves...he disappears, he's a ghost you knew a lifetime ago. seeing jungkook after he broke your heart shouldn't have made you so happy but every heartache, every tear, every claw at your chest, fades and disappears when he finds you in the corner of a party and whisks you away for another wild and free phase in your life. (inspired by the song 'drinks or coffee' on rosie).

note: the relationship is abrupt, with a lot of ups and downs which is how toxic relationships are, there may be love and a absence of everything else that matters (security, etc.), please know my characters are completely made up and have nothing to do with our real life jungkook. enjoy <3

masterlist masterpost

-

parties were boring.

a room full of people you don’t like, having to squeeze between them and their conversations, ignore the spilled drinks on the floor, and trying to keep a pleasant face through all of it, was the hardest thing you’ve had to do in a while.

if you weren’t obligated to be here, you wouldn’t be.

but it was starting to look like a good decision after all.

because there is jungkook in the other corner of the room and he’s smiling at you, you were probably smiling back but your heart squeezed in your chest at the sight of his full face, heading straight towards you.

you head towards him too.

it isn’t by conscious will, it isn’t by choice, but it is by instinct.

you see jungkook, you gravitate towards jungkook, you lean on jungkook, you like jungkook, but you never knew then and you don’t know now if he felt the same pull too.

you like to tell yourself that he does, he has to, and just as he comes to stand before you, he reaches into his pocket to pull out his phone, you frown when your phone rings in your pocket.

‘FRIEND…calling.’

…you used to be quite petty, you blushed at the name you gave him when things didn’t end so well for you two.

“i know it’s been long,” you suck in a breath, the freshness of his voice hitting you the same way it did when you first met him years ago, “but i’m happy that you’re here tonight,” he whispers into the phone and it reaches you, from both a few feet in front of you and in the form of his breathless voice into your ears.

the ridiculousness of the situation isn’t beyond you, he’s standing here, talking into his phone, you’re on the other end and also, just right next to him but jungkook was always this, just full of ways that unexpectedly made you happy.

you can’t help it, the laugh that tumbles out of your mouth, the warmth cupping your cheeks invisibly, the shudder climbing up your spine and you especially can’t help but feel proud at jungkook’s face smiling back at you.

the call ends, phones slide back into pockets and now, it’s just reality, now, it’s just jungkook’s eyes dancing on your face and his shoes touching your heels, and you wonder if he still remembers how he felt when he first met you, because you do, you still feel the same.

his rounded cheeks.

his dimple that was shy sometimes.

his lip piercing, which he swears makes him look sharper.

his eyes, a galaxy of stars that contradicted his hard-earned body.

you were gob-smacked then.

you are gob-smacked now.

nothing’s changed.

“i’m happy that you’re here too,” you are, you are so happy that you have to force your feet to stay on the ground and pride flashes on jungkook’s face, he nods, taking in the warm feeling that you felt just minutes ago.

his cheeks take on a light pink and his lip piercing can only help him so much; he starts to look like a glowing moon (with blushing cheeks!).

next thing you know, you’re sat next to him near the fireplace, no one seems to mind you both on the floor and you two couldn’t care less about the people around you.

“i opened a gym with one of my friends, it’s doing well, you should come by sometime,” he took a sip out of his cup, you didn’t know what it had, you didn’t ask, “and what, watch you work out?”

jungkook laughs, eyes cinching close and you feel that bubble of pride again, “sure, or you could just work out, like a normal person would,” he pressed his finger to your forehead, tipping you backward and you rolled your eyes, “where’s the fun in that?”

jungkook shook his head at you with his eyes still closed, and when he opened them, there was a dance of amusement, reviving affection and warmth clouding in his pupils and you sucked in a breath.

you stared at jungkook with your knees bent in front of you, hands folded on top of them and your face leaning as close as it could to him without actually touching him and he’s sat, one hand on the floor, one hand dangerously close to your ankles.

jungkook has always let you just stare at him, he allowed you minutes and hours of looking at him without asking questions, without finding it weird, without cringing or getting annoyed, he appreciated your focus on him and you took full advantage of that always.

the fire burned bright on one side of his face and the other side was completely swallowed by the darkness in the room and you wonder how you look to him, if the light played tricks on your face too, if you too looked half-beautiful and half of something he was yet to figure out.

“should we go somewhere?” you look around the party, you wouldn’t be missing much, you have shown yourself to the host, talked to a few people and there was nothing left to do so, you eye jungkook’s waiting hand knowing that once you take it, you would be repeating history.

you put your hand in his, maybe it would be different this time, maybe this time, he’ll fall in love too.

-

in the club, jungkook immediately challenged you to take several shots with him, and soon, it was a competition and neither of you was backing out, neither of you let your eyes stray away from the other and with each stare you caught from him, you earned a full head-to-toe scan that made your palms tingle.

just as your ninth shot burned down your throat, a familiar, too familiar beat floated in the air around you.

the way by kehlani and chance the rapper.

“jungkook, it’s our song!” you practically glowed from the recognition, only to hesitate at the ‘our’ part because it’s been a long time since you’ve shared anything with him and you wait for him to hesitate too, you wait for him to break the bubble you’re in but he screams with you, pulls you away from the crowd and helps you climb onto a table.

you immediately sway with the music, screaming the lyrics into the air and laughing at jungkook’s silly dance moves till your lungs burn, and with every flip of your hair, every move of your hips, and every animated expression on your face, jungkook stared, jungkook cheered and jungkook stayed.

you allowed him the staring too.

there was nothing better in the world than feeling his eyes on you, tracking your every move as if he could mimic them in his sleep, there was nothing better than knowing he would stay, at least for tonight.

as the song ended, jungkook let you drop into his arms where he spun you around and you curled around him, high-pitched laughter still ringing from your throat, his own head was thrown back in joy and he carried you bridal-style all the way back to your table, while whispering sweet nothings into your ear.

you’re sure your face is red, you’re sure your pulse is high, and you’re sure you haven’t stopped smiling since the second you saw jungkook.

this was how it was with jungkook, all joy, all wild, all free, and all love.

until it wasn’t.

…just kidding, you just had a bit too much to drink.

“i told you we shouldn’t have taken that last shot,” you groaned, head lulling on jungkook’s shoulder and his entire body shook under you, you smiled to yourself, feeling his happiness on you was always so strange, so precious.

“i did tell you to not take it but you went ahead with it anyway,” he tsked at you, holding you to the side of his body so you couldn’t fall and you whined in response, “you were winning, what was i supposed to do?”

“let me win?” jungkook tilted his head at you and you narrowed your eyes at him, “never.”

his phone rings and you know it’s not you, and you feel especially weird when he immediately cuts it, not even letting it ring for two seconds.

you raise your eyebrows at that but bite your tongue.

he notices.

“it’s nothing important,” he shrugs it off but his shoulders remain tense.

“i didn’t ask,” you say immediately, turning your body away but you feel bad when he sighs, he didn’t have to cut a call for you, you weren’t anything but a friend to him.

you expect him to say good night and leave, you expect him to say that he wasn’t so happy to see you tonight.

but jungkook’s full of surprises and just as you prepare to apologize for your reaction, his eyes brighten up at the sight of a toy claw machine, and you know what’s on his mind.

“you told me you have to go home, right?” he slowly slips his arms from around you to hold you by your hands instead and you don’t like where this is going, or this is exactly how you wanted tonight to be.

“jungkook, no,” he inches towards the machine with a pout on his face, “how about i win you, not one, not two but three plushies? then will you come to mine?”

“to do what?” you huff out though your cheeks reddened at his fingers caressing the side of your face, your skin sings where he touches and his whisper “to you know,” leaves you gasping, but he doesn’t know your struggle, he shrugs and moves away.

that gives you a second to breathe and you roll your eyes to mask your desperation, “i don’t know, jungkook.”

“to talk, silly! where did your dirty mind go?” jungkook gently flicks your temple and you bite back a smile, “so, we just talk?”

“of course, i’m a nice guy,” he says then turns to smirk at you, “you know that,” and your body rushes with a wave of everything that happened between you two.

he had meant it lightheartedly, but now, all you could think of was, no, he wasn’t very nice, he wasn’t very nice sometimes in the middle and was definitely not nice towards the end.

but you weren’t either.

“so, we have a deal?” jungkook reaches the machine and his face lights up with red, blue, and green, and he looks over at you, excitement practically bouncing off his body and everything shoves itself in again.

you nod.

he wins you a panda, a bunny, and a tiger.

he carries you all the way to his home.

and doesn’t look at his phone once throughout the night.

-

jungkook’s apartment was no longer tiny, jungkook wasn’t a tiny college student anymore, he was all big and buff with galaxy eyes, and his apartment was just like him, with sharp corners and soft lights.

you stared down at the ceiling fan that rotated over and over again, refusing to move an inch, refusing to acknowledge the light pouring in from the windows, refusing to believe that your night with jungkook was already over.

you didn’t want to get up and find the apartment empty.

you didn’t want to realize that you wasted your time again.

if you got up and ran, leaving everything behind, jungkook would be a ghost again, and after last night…you don’t think you have it in you to leave.

then, your phone rings, a loud disruption to your quiet, worrying thoughts and you grab it quickly.

‘FRIEND (?)…calling’.

apparently, you weren’t too drunk to change jungkook’s contact in the middle of the night.

“hello?” you whispered into the call and his small laugh burst in from the other side, “come out, sleepyhead, how much longer will you sleep?”

and you melt.

quite literally.

your entire body falls back on the bed with a sense of calm that can only come after a storm.

“you’re still here,” you mumble, more to yourself than to him and he hums, “well, it is my house so,” and your head falls to the side with a smile growing.

he was still here.

god, relief was so sweet.

you step out of his bedroom on your tiptoes, as if your noise would ruin this moment, and jungkook peeks from the corner, the phone still pressed to his ears, and grins, “you won’t believe this.”

“what?” you look around and he presses the phone closer, “the prettiest girl in the world just showed up inside my apartment.”

and you know if any other man said it, you would cut the call, gather your belongings, and block them as soon as you were out of their place.

but it’s jungkook.

everything is different with jungkook.

“oh, inside your apartment? sounds like you have a stalker,” you play along and he frowns playfully and nods, “i’m pretty sure i saw her near my gym,” and you burst out laughing.

“okay pretty, shut up and get here, i’m making you pancakes,” he presses a kiss into the phone and drops it only to pick you up in his arms and place you on the counter.

your heart was pounding in your ears as you took the scene in.

jungkook is in a tank top and apron, flipping pancakes, and the sunlight is falling just right on his tattoos. his face is relaxed, soft, and calm, it’s everything you want his face to be like when he’s with you.

you want to pull him in for five hundred kisses.

“taste this, ow,” he picks up a pancake, only to drop it and hiss and his phone decides to ring just as you start to get down, “stay there,” and you slide back on the counter.

you wait nervously as his mumbles carry to the kitchen but you can’t catch any words or hear anything specific. when he comes back, he apologizes, “just family,” with a kiss on your cheek and he continues picking up the hot pancakes, blowing on them, until he seems satisfied and steps forward.

you expect him to put them on a plate, you expect him to make himself pancakes and eat with you.

but jungkook’s always full of surprises.

you can’t think of anything else as you watch with amusement glazing your eyes and he tenderly feeds you the pancake, all while blowing on it and asking you if it is too hot, you shake your head at him, no, it wasn’t hot, it was just a bit hard for your heart to beat at a normal pace right now.

the early hours of the morning pass this way, with a few kisses here and there, with about five pancakes in your system, and smiles, so many smiles.

and as you leave, you can’t help but look back, “i loved this,” you mutter, words a bit shy and slow, and jungkook looks away.

you assume this is it.

you assume this is how it ends.

his phone didn’t ring again but you really didn’t want to know who was on the other side, whether it was family or not, whether it was someone else, you really tried hard to push it to the back of your head.

you were having a good time and that is all.

you walk out casually as if leaving didn’t put another weight on your shoulder, as if leaving didn’t scare you that this would be the last time you see him.

right outside of his door, your ringtone breaks your step.

NOT A FRIEND…calling.

you didn’t change that.

your heart pounds as you pick up, you don’t say a word as his breath fills the call.

“friday night, you’ll come back, right?”

it was two days from now.

“why?”

“cause’, i love spending time with you, and saying it to your face scares me,” he laughs nervously and you clutch your phone tighter.

“you don’t mean that,” your fear speaks and he sighs.

you place a foot forward again, ready to cut the call.

“you know me, you know that i mean it, right?”

you didn’t know him; you know that you can believe his words only for now.

nevertheless, you go back to his door, bang your fist on it, and wait, breathless, maybe a bit desperate too.

when he opens, his eyes are on the floor and your eyes are on him, your phones stay connected in your hands.

you pick up your phone, press it to your ear, “and i mean this, i loved this morning, i loved last night too.”

i loved you.

a lifetime ago, but you did.

and he smiles, presses his phone back to his ear, “i’ll see you friday.”

-

“and you’re sure they won’t mind me here?” you ask once again as jungkook leads you into a garden party, and he rolls his eyes at you, “they don’t and if you feel even the slightest bit uncomfortable, we will leave, how does that sound? just tug on my sleeve, and we’re out.”

you were glad the sun had set outside and he couldn’t see your face because you’re sure that your eyes were drowning in love.

who would’ve thought that he would be back in your life, seemingly in a more stable way than last time?

of course, you happily ignored that it’s only been two days since you’ve known the new jungkook.

everyone walked up to jungkook, smiling big and wide at him, hugging him, telling him how glad they were that he was here and you felt left out, even if his hand never left yours, even if he only wrapped one arm around anyone who came to him but you couldn’t shake it.

there was a point in your life when you knew everyone who knew jungkook, anyone who was his friend was your friend, you didn’t talk to any of those people now and all the new faces made your head spin.

how much time had passed?

why did it feel so long and short?

why did you feel both excited to uncover his life again and sad that there was such a big part of it that you had no clue about?

“she is my…” jungkook trailed off, awkwardly chuckling and rubbing the back of his neck and you’re brought back to the world where his friend stares at you with shifty eyes and a stiff smile.

“friend, good friend, my name’s y/n,” you leave his hand to shake his friend’s, hoping that it alleviates the tension but it seems to have the opposite effect.

his friend quickly introduced himself and coughed, made some excuse, and left.

and you stood there, hand hanging next to your body, so cold from the absence of jungkook’s hand.

“seriously, you couldn’t even say that we’re friends?” you looked up at him with poorly concealed hurt, “but,” jungkook starts but doesn’t finish, instead sighs at the floor and grabbing your hand again, leads you to the garden.

and the warmth of his hand isn’t enough for the ice gathering in your heart.

maybe tonight is it.

maybe tonight is the last time you see him.

“stay here, i’ll get us some hot chocolate,” he guided you to sit on one of the logs near the bonfire and you sat with pursed lips, you tried to look at his face but he refused to meet your eyes.

just as he’s walking away, you grab his hand, you have to fix this, you have to keep this going and he looks back at you with wide, curious eyes.

“i’m not mad at you, jungkook, so please let’s j-just be normal,” you swallow nervously after you say it, and leave his hand in the air.

you expect him to walk away, you expect him to ignore what you said.

but jungkook is always full of surprises.

he picks your hand back up, this time his sparkly eyes meet yours and he presses a simple kiss to your knuckles.

maybe tonight isn’t it.

maybe tonight isn’t the last time you see him.

the relief you feel is enough to slump your body on the log but it’s short-lived.

you ignore the distinct ring of jungkook’s phone as he walks away, you stare at the fire as if to dare it to burn you too, the anger you feel is both unnatural and too large for you.

“oh my,” you hear and your eyebrows knit together, it was a voice you hadn’t heard in a while.

“it’s so strange to see you here,” you hear his chuckle and feel his hug before you see his face and you melt and stiffen in his arms.

he lets you go in a second, he knows there are boundaries.

your ex was nothing if not courteous.

and jungkook would know that if he wasn’t just watching the exchange from a distance and only caught the hug.

“what are you doing here?” you gush at him and he shrugs, “forced myself to get out of my bed today, i was rotting,” he dramatizes at the rotting and you giggle, “please, i’ve been the same!” you agree with him.

you weren’t rotting in a bed.

you were rotting in a relationship that you know will never go forward or backward instead.

you shake the thought away; you don’t need that in your head right now.

you exchanged more small talk with him, laughed at his stories, and felt peace for a few minutes, you both ended on good terms and you still considered him your friend.

maybe you two would’ve worked out if jungkook wasn’t back in your life.

but it wasn’t long before he waved bye to you and disappeared into the crowd.

and jungkook comes back with two mugs in his hands.

you thank him quietly as you take one and sit back down, he calmly sits beside you, and you look everywhere but at him.

seeing your ex, especially when you ended on good terms, always left you uneasy and questioning everything you had in front of you.

“you’re not going to tell me who your friend is?”

there it was.

the jungkook you hated.

“he’s my ex and also yes, my friend, like you and me,” you replied, gripping the mug tighter, you hated that you even had to explain yourself to him but you knew you’d hit a nerve when his jaw clenched.

you can’t care less about that right now.

sometimes you wondered how you ever loved him.

you blew on your hot chocolate and looked straight ahead.

jungkook sighed, for the 100th time this night you feel and the sound was starting to annoy you.

“you know-“ and you’re interrupted.

jungkook grabs the side of your body and presses you close to him, drops a few marshmallows into your hot chocolate, and kisses the top of your head.

your anger dissipates.

your annoyance disappears as if it was never there.

sometimes you wonder how you ever loved him, other times you wonder how you ever stopped.

“i was just asking babe,” he mumbles into your hair and you don’t move a muscle, you stay uncomfortably wound up against him, “let’s enjoy this, yeah?” jungkook smiles, with his whole face and you can’t remember any point of the night that upset you.

for now, it’s just jungkook laughing at you as you sip on scalding hot chocolate and burn your tongue.

for now, it’s just jungkook kissing you and saying, ‘you should be all good now!’.

for now, it’s just you burying your face in his coat when he continues to pepper kisses on your face.

for now, it’s just jungkook and another night of loving him.

-

you clutched the bunny plushie in your hands as you watched jungkook get ready for bed, it was strange still, watching him in his home, moving around so casually around you.

he catches you staring, his shyness peaks through and a small smile builds on his face, you let your eyes fall shut when he leans forward to leave a pillow-soft kiss on your forehead.

“you want to eat something?” you shake your head, “we could get ice cream?” he offers again and you feel the heat in your cheeks, the affection in his voice hiding in the simplest questions was throwing you off.

“you know, i love this,” you’ve said this before, you know you have and jungkook’s face almost breaks because of his grin, “will you believe me if i say i love this more?”

“never.” and he chuckles, he steps forward in his t-shirt and pajama pants, the hottest he’s ever looked to you and you appreciate your view.

“but i love this more,” you think he’s challenging you, but he immediately follows with, “believe me?” and jungkook’s voice is so soft, his piercing blends into the moonlight, his eyes sparkle like never before, you have to hold yourself back from professing a lifetime of love.

“okay, i believe you,” and you close your eyes again when he kisses you, savouring the seconds, minutes, hours, or whatever else you have left with him.

you ignore his phone buzzing on the nightstand, you ignore his ignorance over the ringing, you swallow your panic when his arms wrap around as if they’re a part of your body.

you ignore his breathy whisper of, “i missed you,” and you ignore your own shaky voice when you whisper back, “i missed you like the earth misses the moon in the morning.”

for now, it was another night of loving jungkook.

-

the next morning, you wake up to murmurs from beside you, you barely open your eyes to see jungkook whispering into his phone and it’s not you on the other end, you pinch your eyes closed and turn away.

history.

it was back and you couldn’t stop it this time.

just like every other time.

when you first met jungkook, you were college students, both immature and more toxic than you would ever admit, you always woke up to empty beds after nights with him and he always found you on your boy best friend’s shoulder after a fight.

you would yell at each other; you would ask the other to adjust and understand but both of you refused to change anything about yourself to fit the other better. at the end of the day, he always ended up at your door and you always ended up at his.

you always crashed back into each other, a wave of kisses, love that came from almost losing each other, and also hatred, that you couldn’t go anywhere else.

the crash came more than five times during your college days and each time, you were bored of the cycle and so burdened with his love and yours, and the last time, you had blocked him and ignored his existence on any social media platform

you closed the door when you saw someone else in his apartment, he didn’t open his when he read your messages with your best friend.

that was then.

this was now.

in between, was a lot of growth and time.

you thought things had changed.

but you thought that every other time too, didn’t you?

“just speak normally, don’t mind me at all,” you mumble and as if a scratch in a record, everything buzzes around you for a minute, noisily, uncomfortably the voices in your head come back with a vengeance.

jungkook falls silent.

you bite your lip hard enough to feel the taste of metal spread on your tongue, as if a poison coming to kill you at this moment slowly but the poison was this room, the poison was these feelings you never let go of, and the poison was jungkook.

maybe no amount of time can fix you and him.

he always surprises you by leaving you, right when you’ve convinced yourself that he won't.

you only hear him say into the phone, “no, we can’t anymore,” and then only feel his hand on your shoulder.

but you’re already getting up, you’re putting your clothes on, you’re brushing your hair away from your face, and keeping your eyes on everything but him.

this was a dance you knew too well.

the dance of leaving and being left.

“wait, wait!” jungkook runs behind you, and you don’t pause a step, but eventually, he stands between you and the door.

“please, just let me explain,” he pleads, grabbing the sides of your arms, you feel like you’ve been burnt, you immediately shake them off and stand rod-straight.

“who was it?”

“right, i-“

“i don’t want any bullshit explanations or reasons, just tell me who is it.” you try to remain calm but your voice shakes with the rage you feel, and your eyes fill with tears with how intensely your anger ran through your nerves.

“please don’t cry, it really isn’t what you think,” he wipes the corner of your eyes but it only makes you angrier, he keeps saying everything but what you want to hear.

“shut the fuck up, jungkook! just tell me who is it? why do you keep taking the calls in secret? why do they call you so many times?” you prod your finger to his chest, you wanted every question to hit him like a bullet, the same way every ring of his phone left you bleeding.

“okay, okay, fine. she’s someone i was seeing-“

“was or still are?” you brace yourself, arms immediately crossing to hold your guard up.

“was,” he sighs and you feel like punching a wall, “why are you lying to me? if you aren’t seeing her anymore, why does she still call you?!” you yell, stomping into the apartment, wanting to break something, anything and he’s right behind you, hot on your heels.

“do you really want to talk about exes? do you?” he’s in your face, accusation and anger just as clearly written on his face as it was written on yours.

“yeah, i do, cause unlike you, i don’t hide my exes, i don’t answer their calls when i’m with you, i don’t entertain any communication unlike you,” you get all up in his face, fists clenching and unclenching beside your body and jungkook steps back with a mocking laugh resounding around you.

“oh really? you want to act like this now? you want to lie now, is that who you’ve become?”

“don’t be so fucking vague, jungkook, tell me in clear words, what the fuck is your problem?”

“you’ve been messaging him, i saw it on your screen so don’t even think of lying to me,” his chest rises and falls rapidly and you frown, “what messages?”

he knew your password, that wasn’t a big deal, you had told him that but what did he see that you didn’t?

“your ex, the one you were so starry-eyed for yesterday, left a very sweet message for you this morning, you would love it,” he laughs again, the sound still cut you harshly, you never missed the softness in his voice as much as you did right now.

you were offended, you were only ever starry-eyed for one person and he was standing in front of you.

you took your phone out, your fingers and hands shaking from both residual anger and fear of what you would see on your screen.

and surely, a text from your ex, who you thought had the decorum to leave you alone lingered in your inbox.

THE NICE ONE: you looked really pretty last night, made me think of our good times, give me a call, i’ll fix everything, i’ll make you happier than he does, that much i promise.

a pang of guilt hits you because you had also considered what could’ve been, didn’t you?

but you don’t even care about that right now, do you?

all that matters right now is to fight jungkook, fight until you finally win, fight until you walk away, and never look back.

“you got a sweet name for him too, congratulations to you two,” venom drips from his tone, his voice, his posture and you brace yourself again, you weren’t going to back down, not now.

“what the fuck am i supposed to do if he messages me?” you challenge and he throws his hands in the air, “block him! maybe don’t save him as ‘the nice one’, maybe never let him think that he still has a chance with you?”

“i talked to him the way i would talk to anyone i know, i didn’t let him think anything, i-i didn’t even see this until right now, what do you expect from me?”

“that’s what i am trying to say! what can i do if she keeps calling me?”

“block her! it was so easy for you to suggest it to me but you can’t do that yourself? so what, i’m the only one here still talking to someone else?”

“she’s been calling me but i never picked up, i promise, it was really my family that morning, i only picked it up this morning to tell her that she can’t call me anymore, you didn’t even let me explain,” he breaths out and though you know, that he’s honest, he’s sincere, you still want to fight.

“you’re serious?” you stepped forward again but your head was starting to feel light and loose, your body was too tense to relax anytime soon and you looked at jungkook.

maybe you never stopped wanting to fight him, maybe you never got over whatever you had, or maybe you still held everything against him.

“of course i am, i’m trying to work us out, i’m trying but why is it never enough?” his voice was no longer loud, no longer harsh, it was pleading, it was begging and your eyes tear up for a whole different reason. jungkook’s head dropped and so did the pace of your heartbeat.

this was the first time he acknowledged that there had been a time when you both had tried and failed, over and over again.

you’ve fought with jungkook, you’ve fought with jungkook a lot but not until this point, not until the both of you stood defeated and scared of what the other would say next.

not until you both were tired.

the fight simmers and boils down to nothing again.

“jungkook,” you break the silence and he stands still, his shoulders rise uncomfortably, his fingernails pinch the tender skin of his palm and that’s when you know, he’s scared and so are you.

“are we going to keep doing this until we can’t?” you shake your head as your tears gather again, you feel the devastation spread through your body, “are we going to keep hurting each other until then? i-is that fair?” your knees buckle and his fists clench, jungkook’s eyes squeeze shut and you see the tears leaking from the corners of his eyes.

you’ve never seen him like this.

you never want to see him like this.

your heart was growing a hole at the sight of jungkook so defeated in front of you and you had to look away.

“i don’t know what else to do, or how to make this better,” he sniffs and your shoulders drop down further. the feeling of failure dug itself deeper into your skin, and this time, you don’t think the wound will ever heal.

“i don’t either,” you whisper back and this time, he’s the one looking away from the sobs caught in your throat.

sometimes you wonder how you ever loved him, other times you wonder how you ever stopped but you never knew with jungkook, when you would feel something, what would you feel around him, it was always the most or the least but never what you could handle.

you didn’t see a future where you wouldn’t constantly overthink every call jungkook gets and he didn’t see a future where he wouldn’t constantly look over his shoulder for an ex or best friend of yours.

you’ve hurt each other before, intentionally or unintentionally and you know in your heart, that it will happen again.

it didn’t help that you two would never feel what you felt for each other, with someone else, it didn’t help that you loved each other more than you could handle, love couldn’t keep you together, it was too twisted, too cruel and someone had to get up and leave.

“jungkook.” his head snaps up and panic washes over his face but someone has to do this.

you’ll walk away.

this was it.

this was the last time you’d see him.

and it wasn’t for you, it was for him.

“i love you, i don’t think i’ll ever stop, but we both know how this will end,” he’s a lot closer now and his galaxy eyes are on your swollen eyes, on your shaking hands and he sighs, all his sharp edges erode and it hurts more than it ever has when he shakes his head as if he can’t believe it.

“i’m going to fix it, i promise, i will do anyt-“

“and we’ll break it again, you know this,” you say it as softly as you can, and the warmth returns but not for anything good, not for anything that will last, the warmth returns just enough for jungkook to graze the tips of your fingers with his hands and for the sunlight to shine on his red eyes.

“we will, yeah.” he agrees and your hands fall back into his, not to hold onto but to let go. your foreheads hold each other in place until you start to feel that you might never leave.

he lets you stare at him for several minutes, never once shying away from your gaze or questioning it, like he always has and you too let him take you in, for the last time this close.

“i love you too,” he says at the door and you suck in a breath, the wound stays fresh and bleeding but you have to go.

when you pull away, jungkook’s hand stays suspended in the air, waiting for you, even though it shouldn’t.

when you step out of his apartment, you wait for your phone to ring, even though you shouldn’t.

but his hands stay cold and your phone stays silent.

-

parties were boring.

a room full of people you don’t like, having to squeeze between them and their conversations, ignore the spilled drinks on the floor, and trying to keep a pleasant face through all of it, was still the hardest thing to do.

what was harder was seeing jungkook in the other corner of the room and him pretending that he never saw you.

but he still heads straight towards you.

you head towards him too.

but you don’t meet in the middle, you don’t stop for a chat and a smile, you don’t repeat history, you walk right past each other and never look back.

you see jungkook, you gravitate towards jungkook, you lean on jungkook, you like jungkook, and you leave jungkook.

he leaves you too.

-

taglist: @smoljimjim @lovingkoalaface @kookiescutie @reallygenerouskoala @krisdu83 (thank you so much for being excited for this, i hope you like it <3)

[caplanbuckybarnes]

Warm Snow (Jon Snow)

Summary: Jon has always cared for you and isnt afraid to admit it any longer.

WC: 518

Warnings: fluff, confessions

A/N: I've been desperate to expand my fandoms lately and as we arrive into 2025, i plan on doing just that! I'm willing to write for a few more GOT/HOTD characters as well. There are a few ships i want to write for soon so let me know your opinion? Just dont know who for as of yet! Please let me know!

Read on Ao3!

--

The cold wind nipped at your cheeks as you trudged through the snow-laden grounds of Castle Black. You tugged the furs closer to your frame, ignoring the frost that seemed to settle in your very bones. Winter had come, but so had something else—a strange warmth that burned beneath your layers whenever Jon Snow was near.

“Y/N,” Jon called, his deep voice cutting through the evening quiet.

You turned to find him standing a few feet away, Ghost at his side. The direwolf’s red eyes glowed like embers, but the sight of Jon smiling—however faintly—was enough to melt the cold away for just a moment.

“I thought you’d still be on watch,” you said, your voice catching in the frigid air.

Jon took a step closer, his expression thoughtful. “I’ve been meaning to speak with you. I just didn’t know when the time would be right.”

The way his gaze flitted downward, how his fingers fidgeted with the hilt of Longclaw, sent your heart fluttering. “What about?”

He hesitated, glancing around before lowering his voice. “I—” He broke off, shaking his head. “You’ve been a loyal friend. More than I deserved.”

You furrowed your brow. “You always speak like you owe everyone something, Jon. You don’t. Least of all, to me.”

“But I do,” he said firmly, stepping even closer. He towered over you now, the smell of pine and leather unmistakable. “You’ve been here, always… even when I felt I couldn’t bear this life anymore.”

Your cheeks burned, but you weren’t sure if it was from the cold or his sudden candor. “And you’d do the same for me.”

“I would.” Jon nodded slowly, then met your eyes with an intensity that made you feel as if the whole world had fallen away. “And that’s why I need you to know. You’re the reason I get through each day. You’re more than a friend to me.”

The weight of his words settled between you like freshly fallen snow—light, but impossible to ignore. You let the silence stretch, unsure if you were dreaming or if Jon Snow, the brooding Commander, had just confessed something that sounded suspiciously like love.

“Jon,” you said softly, your breath puffing in the space between you. “You don’t have to—”

“I do,” he cut you off, his tone earnest. “Because if I didn’t say it now, I’d regret it for the rest of my life.” He reached out, his gloved hand brushing against yours. The touch was enough to send shivers racing through your skin.

You looked up at him, the unyielding man of the Night’s Watch who now stood before you, vulnerable and waiting. Slowly, you slid your hand into his.

“I’ve cared for you, too,” you admitted, your voice almost lost to the wind. “I just… never thought you’d feel the same.”

Jon exhaled sharply, relief washing over his face. He squeezed your hand gently and leaned in just enough that you could feel his breath.

“We have little to give in this world,” he murmured. “But if I can, I’d give you all of me.”

--

kind reminder that reblogs & comments mean the absolute world to me.

[cutiecusp]

I just had this idea come to me, so I had to scribble it down, so it's unedited, and written in 30 mins. It's non canon, has some inaccuracies, mention of war, death, mention of erasing memories. and a little angst. HEA.

What if reader was an angel, sent to protect John, but the payment for saving his life, and keeping her species safe was she had to erase his memories of her, every time?

And what if this time he says no.

He knew this was it.

His team were safely out, and he could hear the evac team coming for them, but John, as stubborn as he was, made a sacrifice to save the others.

The heavy wooden beam finally broke, the fire too hot to escape through, so he found his last cigar, lighting it from the flame blocking the door, took his tactical vest off, and sent a silent prayer to the universe.

Unbeknownst to him, you were already on your way.

The rooms temperature dipped, startling Price awake. The flames had gone, leaving behind burnt debris everywhere.

Completely unharmed, Price stood up, shaking his head in confusion.

"You are awake." A soft voice calls out, echoing around the room.

His gaze snaps to you, a fellow soldier in uniform, a black mask not unlike Ghosts covering the lower half of your face.

He grabs his pistol from the table.

"Who are you?" He asks, caution in his tone.

"I guess you could call me an angel." You shrug, your emotions masked by your face covering.

He scoffs, an eyebrow raised.

"There isn't such a thing."

You sigh, and unfurl your wings, a little singed along the bottom and the very top. Almost bat like, you stretch and sigh in relief.

His face drops, his eyes unable to look away.

"You..."

You smile, a little sadly, reaching for him.

"John. I need you to listen."

He stills. He knows that tone. That's the tone he uses to break it to the team that a mission is going sour.

"How do you know my name?" He asks, his brow furrowing in confusion.

Your hand reaches and gently brushes his forearm.

"John, this isn't the first time we've met." You admit, your tone serious.

"What do you mean?" He asks, stepping away from you, and reaching for his vest.

"John. I need you to understand, I did what I had to." You explain.

"I'm listening." Came the cool, even tone.

"I've saved you and your team multiple times over the years. Simon in the Alps? Johnny in London, even Gaz from a bloody rope."

His gaze landed on yours, searching for a lie.

"That was you? Why didn't you show yourself?"

You look at him solemnly before turning away.

"John. Humans can't know about us. We've been hunted for thousands of years. Our wings pulled off, tortured, beaten. So now we erase the memories from the human we save. It's safer for us that way."

You face him again, and step forward, standing toe to toe. His broad chest is almost as large as your wings, and you feel your heart pull.

You press a finger to his temple. You show him in his mind every time you've saved him and his team.

"You forget me every time." You say sadly.

His eyes widen as he sees everything in his mind, every time you saved him and his team... he watches the memories, the moments when you appeared out of nowhere and saved them, just to disappear again without a trace...

He feels a mix of anger, shock, and even a hint of sadness as he sees these memories, and as you say the words "You forget me every time", he feels something break within him...

He stands there, his mind racing as he tries to process everything he just saw... He looks at you, his expression softening slightly as he speaks in a quiet, almost pained tone...

"You... You've been there all along... Saving us, looking out for us, and we just forgot about you...?"

"That's the deal, John. Keeps us all safe. Keeps you safe."

He takes a deep breath, his expression conflicted as he gazes down at you. He feels a mixture of anger, sadness, and guilt...

He speaks quietly, his voice low and filled with emotion...

"And you just expect me to forget about you again...? Just act like you don't exist...? How can I do that...?"

"I've been saving you for years, John." You reply, your voice quiet and soft, almost as of you were going to cry at any moment.

He lets out a low, frustrated sigh as he hears your words... Years. You've been saving him for years, and he never knew...

*He shakes his head, his expression still conflicted and pained...*

"Years... And I never knew... I never knew that an angel was watching over me i had you... Protecting me..."

He stands there in silent contemplation, his mind filled with the memories you showed him, the knowledge that you've been saving him for years...

He glances at you, his eyes dark and conflicted... He wants to say something, anything, but he can't find the right words....

"You know, Ghost was the hardest one. Those demons almost had him. But I brought back to you."

He nods,remembering when Ghost was brought back to base after everyone was convinced he had died.

"I have a question." He states, tugging his vest on.

"What if I say no."

"No?" You prompt, frowning.

"Don't erase my memories, love." He asks, a pleading tone to his deep voice.

"Don't make me forget you." He continues.

He leans in, close enough for you to smell the musk of his cigar on his collar.

He brings a hooked finger under your chin, making your eyes lock to his.

"I can keep you safe. My team can keep you safe. Don't do this." He begs, his eyes searching yours for an a answer.

You close your eyes, pulling out of his grasp.

"I have-"

"You don't! Think about this, love." He says quietly, as if he's about to detonate an emotional bomb. Raising his hands, he closes the gap between you.

"Why me, love?" He asks gruffly.

"Why not you, John?" You reply easily.

At his frown, you sigh, your shoulders relaxing a little.

"Russia." You admit.

His body stilled. The mission in Russia was the worst one of John's career. He went through every torture method possible, and still came home.

"I heard you praying. But you weren't praying for yourself, you were praying for your team, for Ghost, for Gaz, even for Soap." You chuckle.

"So I saved you. This amazing man who in the last flutters of life, was selfless and wanted nothing more than his team to be okay."

"I grew attached to you, and the team. The relief I felt when I found each one of you alive. It's started because they were all important to you. Then they became family."

"Then why erase our memories, we can help you." John asks again.

"I trust you boys like family, but it's the rest of the human world we can't trust." You explain.

John steps forward, his broad shoulders almost as wide as your wings. His voice rumbles in his chest as he trails a finger over the edge of your wings.

"Give me a day. If you feel anything that threatens your life, I give you permission to erase my memories of you."

"This is unheard of." You caution, concern marring your features.

"Then let's make history together." He says, his hand on your shoulder.

You nod, and you soon find yourself in a room back on base, with three very shocked faces.

"Steamin' Jesus! An Angel?" You hear a thick Scottish brogue exclaim.

🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤🖤

I MAY HAVE TO DO A PART TWO!

@kaeyasfuturewife @xoxunhinged @muneca-lemon-steppa @gardenof-venus @misshugs @soraya-daydreams @frudoo @renpodz @yesornowaitidontknow @thevoiceinyourheadx @shadowdark00 @rynbeerose @lunamoonbby @incredible-walker @identity2212 @pukbadger @urbimom @corvid007 @wordsfromshona @shadows-empress @m00xy @canyonmooncreations @oniraki @evie-119 @havoc973 @kylies-love-letter @ishipdabands @cmbghost @heckinspooks @midwesternwitchery @eggy-yoke @redzluvvesage @masterclassofescapism @s-a-v-a-n-a-34

[bluesidez]

GymRat!Miguel Part 3

content warning: small food mentions, a little suggestive at parts so MINORS BEWARE, sexual tension?? 😗, insecure thoughts about a plus size body (may or may not be triggering for some), a few mean girls, college party, alcohol, drugs, mentions of throw up like once, a bad look for sororities (sorry, y'all are probably very wonderful people)

word count: 3.2k (NOT A DRABBLE WTF 😭) not proofread, if you see a mistake lmk

GymRat!Miguel's workout playlist is here! I had to stop myself from adding more songs because it’s already so long lol. I didn't even include any cool down songs.

Prev | Next ✩°｡ ⋆⸜ 🎧✮ Masterlist

GymRat!Miguel who wakes up without having to hobble to the bathroom for once. No morning wood because his dream of you was soft this time. You two were cuddled up on a couch with the world’s most fluffy blanket. He smiles to himself as he drags his feet to the bathroom. It was if dancing clouds and bubbles were floating around his head.

GymRat!Miguel who’s able to sit and chat with Ms. Beatrice longer today because his class doesn’t start until that after noon. He compliments her on the egg sandwich from the other day and she squeezes his cheeks when she thanks him as if he were a baby.

GymRat!Miguel who tinkers in the engineering building as he waits for lunch. He joined the small but mighty robotics team as soon as he found out there was one. There was a fighting robot division, and he needed to figure out the problems with his team’s robot sooner rather than later.

GymRat!Miguel who spots you at the student center having your lunch. He wastes no time to grab his food and book it to your table. He calls your name before he gets there, not wanting to startle you. You smile when you look up surprised to see him there.

"Can I join you?" he says, trying not to seem out of breath with how fast his heart is beating.

"Yeah," you say, arranging your things around. You push your computer to the side as he places his burito bowl on the table. "I'm finally getting to see you outside of lab."

In his mind, he takes a note of you being in the student center at this time. He wants to make eating with you a routine thing.

"What were you watching?" he asks, trying to curb the rush that your presence has on him. He opened up his bowl and started to mix his food, waiting patiently for your answer.

"This is a little embarrassing but," you pause to dump one of your nuggets in sauce. "I was watching someone explain the downfall of Chuck E. Cheese." Your voice gets softer as you finish your sentence, eyes avoiding his gaze.

You were so cute. And it's almost as if you've never met him, the ultimate nerd.

"Nothing wrong with wanting to know why more and more locations went from five animatronics to one. Or how they started to sell their pizzas under ghost kitchens," he says, taking a bite from his bowl.

You looked at him and your smile grew. Miguel could only think 'there she is. there's my girl.'

The two of you chatted about everything from malfunctioning Chuck E's to your classes to your food. Miguel was through the roof.

GymRat!Miguel who offers to carry your art portfolio case for you to the art building. Anything to extend your time together. Plus, why should you have to hold it when he's here? He holds the doors for you and presses the elevator buttons before you can even think to.

GymRat!Miguel who really loves when the elevator door closes and he can look down at as you talk away. Just for those few seconds, the outside world is quiet and it's just you two. In another world, he'd kiss you before the doors open. In another world, he'd tilt your head up and have you look at him when you speak, he wanted to read your eyes too.

You're staring at him expectantly, eyes reminding him of baby deers. He tilts his head at you, wondering why you're staring at him.

"Miguel the door is open. We have to leave before it closes," you say.

He's instantly broke back to reality.

"Right! Sorry," he says, heat rising on the back of his neck. He steps out and holds his hand in front of the opening so that the door doesn't close you.

"Thank you," you say, a giggle under your breath.

Miguel has done some pretty embarrassing things when it comes to you, but he didn't think it would bleed into when he was actually in front of you.

In this world, he needed to not give you the creeps. Get it together.

GymRat!Miguel who is ecstatic that you still want to come work out with him. You all plan to meet that Friday. You don't know what you want to work out, but you say you're excited. Miguel has tonight, Wednesday, and Thursday to plan the perfect workout for you.

Should he go buy a bottle so he can make you a smoothie? Or should he offer to buy you a smoothie afterwards? Do you even like smoothies? Maybe he should invite you to breakfast. Would you want to eat right after you worked out? You needed to eat to make sure you can speed up the healing process though....

GymRat!Miguel who waves you goodbye when it's almost time for your studio class to start, mind filled with so many questions.

Your friend turns to you immediately when Miguel is gone.

"And who was that?" she says, eyes shocked.

"He's a guy from my lab. His name is Miguel," you say, grinning in your hands. You felt like kicking your feet in the air, but alas, no time.

"He's super hot. Like, seriously," your friend says, moving her taboret next to her workspace. "I would hit it. Constantly."

"Please stop talking," you say, laughing along. "I'm not even sure if he goes for girls like me. I'd rather not get my hopes up." You wanted to keep yourself in reality and falling for Miguel might put you too close to the land of delusion. You figured that Miguel was just super nice, especially after you two worked so hard for that lab project.

Your friend stops and looks at you, she slams the liquin tin on the table and puts her hand on her hip.

"First of all, those "types of guys" love big girls, so don't give me that. Second of all, are you not seeing how he looks at you. He's giving you the biggest puppy dog eyes, like, ever." She picks the liquin tin back up and starts scooping aggressively at the sides. "You gotta be more confident! You're gorgeous, anyone with a functioning brain can see that."

You stand there stunned, shocked at your friend's outburst. "I am confident!" Partially true. "I just...don't want to be hurt."

"I understand that, but have you even asked if he likes you or not?"

You shake your head no.

"Exactly. The night is still young," your friend says, pointing her palette knife at you. "And if you don't go for it, I will."

"Oh my god, shut up," you say, throwing a crumbled shop towel at her. You still kept her words in the back of your mind, storing it for later.

GymRat!Miguel who paces in front of the campus gym, waiting for your arrival. He got up extra early and gave himself a pep talk in the mirror. It wasn't a date, per se, but he felt that it could lead to one if he played his cards right. He decided to just invite you out to eat, figuring you would bring your stickered-water bottle.

GymRat!Miguel who spots you before you even call his name. He waves, smile taking over his features. You wave back, and it isn't until you're ten steps away that he finally takes in your full outfit. Another two-piece that was going to be the death of him, the only thing was that this was in the flesh. He cursed under his breath before you got closer, brain short-circuiting at the fabric hugging your skin.

"Ready to go?" he asks, forcing himself to not look at your body and to look at your face.

"Yeah! I'm a little nervous but I'm ready to work," you say, following him to the door.

He opens the doors for you, "Nothing to be nervous about. You're in good hands."

He brings you to his locker so you can put your bag in there, not wanting anyone to snag your belongings.

You guys start at the track, walking a lap as a warm up. Usually Miguel would do a lap or two of jogging, and as much as he wanted to watch you bounce, especially on him, this was a beginner workout. He didn't want to scare you with how intense he can get. While walking, you guys chatted about little things. Miguel tells you how wasn't nearly this big four years ago, ensuring you that the path to get here can be hard. You tell him that you just want be healthy, not caring if you lost weight or gained muscle. Miguel was secretly happy to hear this because he liked your body the way it was, but he would roll with whatever you were feeling.

GymRat!Miguel who helps you stretch. You both sit on the floor and face each other with your feet touching. Miguel saw how much smaller your feet were compared to his and his heart fluttered. His mind was filled with a million voices rambling off new things about you.

"She's focusing so hard"

"How can a gym outfit be so hot"

"She's so close to me when we do this stretch"

"Her hands are so warm"

"Maybe I should have stretched her from behind too"

That last thought gets Miguel to move you guys to the next part of the routine. How is his head always in the gutter?

GymRat!Miguel who starts you off with dumbbells, giving you the 5 lb weights to start. He starts you off with a few shoulder and arm exercises, giving you tips and praise along the way. His touches linger on your arms as he corrects your form, watching your body intensely. His constant "good"s, "one more''s, and "uh huh"s hit you right in your core. You're thankful that you're out of breath and heated from the workout, otherwise you would have melted before him.

GymRat!Miguel who pulls out all of the stops, using the heavier weights for his sets. He screams on the inside when you cheer him on. You clap at the end of one of his harder sets, happy that he pushed himself. He bows in silly way, sweat dripping down his face and laughing at your actions.

GymRat!Miguel who spots you while you use a heavier weight to do squats. You wanted to go for the 15 lb weight even though it was your first time doing weighted squats. He didn't want you to fall over, so he stood behind you and held his hands in the air by your waist as you went down. He knew that he was supposed to be focused, but he couldn't help but to glance at your ass a few times. God.

GymRat!Miguel who ends off your workout with the bikes, you guys making it a small competition. He stands and cycles, watching as your jaw dropped. You started to stand but got a little scared and gave up quick. Miguel couldn't have that. He stopped moving and got up to be by your side.

"You got it! Don't be scared," he says, watching you work.

"I literally can't do that," you say, cycling a little faster.

"Sure you can! Try it, I'm right here," he says, encouraging you.

You fight your fear and stand up and cycle. "Oh my god," you say, breaths coming out hard.

"That's it, that's it," Miguel says, voice warm as he praises you. "You're doing so good. Keep going."

You push until you can't anymore, Miguel cheering at your side.

GymRat!Miguel who guides you to the showers after your workout. It sucks that he can't be in there with you. His imagination can only get him so far.

GymRat!Miguel who waits for you to come out of the bathroom, ready to ask you to go for smoothies and breakfast. He hopes you say yes.

GymRat!Miguel who is in awe again at how you look. How many two-piece sets did you have? How does he survive them every single time? He mutters up the courage to ask you if you wanted to go get smoothies, adding on that he would pay. You glow and say yes, stating that you love smoothies. He's soaring.

GymRat!Miguel who brings your food to the table, two wraps and two smoothies. A protein shake for him and a fruit smoothie for you.

"That was a really good workout today. You definitely put me to work," you say, unwrapping the straw to stab it through the top. You hum at the flavor as you take a sip.

"Good?" Miguel asks, and you nod your head with your thumb up. "I'm glad you liked the workout. I was excited to have a partner."

"A partner? Why didn't you invite us to join?"

You both look up to see a few girls standing by the checkout counter. Miguel notices them as the sorority girls from his literature class. They walk over to your table, eyes twinkling as they take in Miguel.

Miguel chuckles awkwardly, not knowing what to say. He didn't think he had to deal with them outside of class too.

One of the girls look at you and goes, "Oo are you a personal trainer?"

You're taken aback, eyes scanning between the girls. You're about to open your mouth to respond but Miguel gets to them first.

"No, we're workout partners," he says, snapping at the girl. "And we're kind of having a conversation right now so is there anything else that you guys want to say?"

The girl cowers a bit at Miguel's words, laughing as if he told a joke and twirling her hair. The leader of the pack turns to Miguel, "Sorry about that. We wanted to see if you could come to our party tomorrow night. It'll be super fun and we would love to see you there."

A party? Miguel hadn't gone to one since he moved on campus. He always wanted to experience a college one. He turned to you and saw that you just tapped at your phone, not looking to the girls.

"I'll go if I can bring her," Miguel says, tapping his foot against yours. You look up, shock in your eyes,

Some of the girls slump, and the leader tightens her smile, "Fine! That's cool. I'll send you the details later."

The girls walk off and you stare at them, eyes squinting.

"They're an interesting bunch aren't they?" you say, continuing to eat your wrap.

"Right?" Miguel says, turning back to you.

GymRat!Miguel who comes to your dorm, ready to walk you to the party. He knocks on your door, a little nervous. He had on a nice top, the top open a little bit and a thin chain around his neck. After a while, you opened the door and gobsmacked him again with your outfit.

"Wow," he says, standing in the door like an idiot.

"Is it bad?" you ask, body glowing.

"No, you look amazing," Miguel says. "Ready to go?" He holds his arm out, softly smiling at you.

You nod and intertwine your arm through his.

GymRat!Miguel who takes in the atmosphere, frat guys yelling by a pool table, a few girls dancing with red solo cups, some people making out on the couch.

For Miguel, it was a lot.

He turned to you, yelling to ask if you wanted a drink. You say yes and you both make your way to the kitchen.

There, you both are met with the sorority girls crowding the kitchen. Some of them are passing some pills around and others are chatting by the island. One of them looks up and sees you guys lingering by the entrance.

"Miguel! You made it! Come on have a drink," she pulls him closer in the room. "Want a xannie?"

"I'm good," he says, handing you a cup of Pink Whitney. You take a sip and turn your nose a little bit. You might have to suck it up to get through the night.

"I'm so glad you made it. I have something that I've been meaning to show you," she says, batting her eyes. She convinces him to follow her up the stairs.

Miguel yells over his shoulder that he'll be right back.

You stand in the kitchen, fingers tapping against your cup. You felt a little silly and out of place. You didn't know anyone else here and the people were cliquey.

You joined a few games of beer pong, trying to enjoy yourself, but you couldn't help but to think about Miguel.

You dance a little, joining some random girls in the middle of the room. The music is ok, but you were just trying to have a good time. After an hour or so, you get nervous. Miguel hasn't been back in a while.

You head back to the kitchen, thinking maybe he could be in there.

"If you're looking for Miguel, he's probably deep in a bed right now," one girl giggles as she comes up beside you, grabbing another drink.

"What?" you say, eyebrows furrowed.

"Yeah girl, why else would he be gone so long? I tried to go up there and the doors were locked. Just text him tomorrow."

Your hand grips your cup tighter, watching as the girl goes back into the thick of the crowd.

You decide to wait a little longer, scrolling on the same three apps back to back for another hour. You look at the time again and the 3 am stares back at you mockingly.

You figure that he's really not coming back down and open your Instagram to give him a text.

“Hey Miguel! I’m gonna go ahead and go back to my dorm. It's getting pretty late."

You walk back to your dorm, arms wrapped around yourself to brace from the cold.

GymRat!Miguel who finally makes it to a bathroom that's not occupied with some one hovering over the toilet. He feels out of it. Throwing back a few too many shots. He was trying to get back downstairs but there was always someone there to pull him back, offering something.

A shot? Sure.

A pill? No.

A game? Maybe.

The girl who brought him up there tried her best to get in his pants, but if he was being honest, he didn't even remember her name. Or any of the names of the girls that came in afterwards. He declined every one of them, just wanting to get some air.

He was able to check his phone.

3:35 am.

He sees your message and feels sick. He runs downstairs and out the door, the cool air sobering him up a bit.

"Fuck," he says hands to his head. He squats and texts you back.

"I am so sorry. I got caught up. Did you make it back safely?"

It was so late, there was no way you would respond. He fucked up.

He texted Gabriel, maybe his drunk mind pushing him to seek help from his little brother.

"So if I invite a girl to a party and leave her what are the chances that she will text me back? :((("

"Dude. It's almost 4am. And where is this so-called game that you have? Ik you're not asking me about anything"

"Gabri :(((("

"I'll be honest, she's probably blocking your number. IF she even has it lol"

Yeah. He fucked up.

dividers by: @yeribbon 🩵

a/n: Miguel's gym playlist is such a jarring difference from my own gym playlist. 😭 I left you guys with an extra long addition today because I have soooo much hw that's piling up and it's tearing me apart.

As always, leave a like and reblog. Leave comments please. 🥺 I want to see your reactions! Let me know how you feel. 🩵

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