#going to make a continuation after finals are over

[itaipava]

— love at first sight with f1 boys.

˒ ⌕ LANDO NORRIS

you were at the same event, but you hadn’t met each other yet. he was talking to his friends, until one of them did something funny in the middle of everyone and he couldn’t help but laugh at it, until his eyes met yours in the middle of laughter and he shook his head, as if he thought it was really stupid, and you agreed, which made you two laugh even more. after that, he couldn’t stop looking at you; always looking for you in the crowd and always giving a subtle smile when your eyes met. that same friend who did something stupid, realized this and his lack of courage to go up to you, so he did all the work so that you could finally meet and learn the name of those smiles that captivated you both so much.

˒ ⌕ GEORSE RUSSELL

he was walking through the grid until he saw you dropping something. he goes over to you and helps you pick it up. you smile at him in thanks and he smiles back, completely startled by your smile. you brush your hair out of your face and continue on your way. he looks back and sees some of the mechanics looking at him playfully. he is embarrassed, but goes over to them and asks if they know you or at least know your name, because he needs to meet you.

˒ ⌕ SEBASTIAN VETTEL

he was off work and decided to go out with his friends. after greeting everyone, your mutual friend introduced you to him. he smiled at you and took your hand, and you smiled as you told him your name. at that moment, he felt his heart race and butterflies in his stomach, as if he had seen the most beautiful person ever - which it was true. he was startled by the intensity of that simple moment, but he was ready to take it with both hands.

˒ ⌕ CARLOS SAINZ

he had gone to the beach to run in the morning, but before he actually started, he started watching the sunset. it was perfect, until he looked to the side and saw you also warming up to run; but you didn’t take your eyes off the sun that was rising on the horizon so you didn’t notice him there. you were simply beautiful, and at that moment carlos couldn’t think of anything else but you.

˒ ⌕ CHARLES LECLERC

even with so many people at that event, his gaze led him to you. when he saw you for the first time, it was as if everything around him became a blur, and the focus of everything was you. he couldn’t hide the fact that you caught his attention. the people who were talking to him tried to look where he was looking because he couldn’t pay attention to anything else or give complete answers to the questions they asked him. even though he moved away when someone called him, he still looked for you; it was as if he was hypnotized. at one point, while he was drinking, your gaze met his and he felt his heart race in his chest. you continued to look at him the same way he looked at you, so he took it as an invitation to go talk to you and make sure that that unspoken connection was genuine.

˒ ⌕ LEWIS HAMILTON

you were both at a fashion show for a big brand. it was your first time being invited to a show like that, but for Lewis it was already something completely normal. you were nervous, even more so when you felt someone staring at you too much. the show started and even with so many models passing in front of you, you still felt those pairs of eyes on you the whole time. when you picked up your phone to take some pictures and videos, you could see through your camera that the person who had been staring at you the whole time was Lewis Hamilton, who was sitting in front of you. you pretended to be natural even though you felt your heart racing. even though you tried not to look, your gaze betrayed you and you ended up exchanging glances with him; he smiled gently and you smiled back, little knowing that you had just awakened something new and different inside the him.

˒ ⌕ OSCAR PIASTRI

he was in a hurry, apologizing to the people he was bumping into as he passed by, but when he bumped into you and turned around to apologize, you grabbed his arm when he lost his balance and apologized too, even though it was entirely his fault. he blushed for a second, but he was still late so he had to run. he smiles at you and you smile back and in that moment his heart skips a beat. he slowly lets go of your arm and runs to his car because the training is about to start. and as he runs, he looks back a few times to try to catch one last glimpse of you. he knows that throughout the race, you will be the one he will be thinking about. and he knows that he needs to find you again.

˒ ⌕ LIAM LAWSON

you worked for RB but never had the opportunity to meet him properly until that moment when he saw you - and heard you - humming your favorite song. the way you were enjoying the moment were so carefree that it catch his heart of guard, leaving him smiling like he’s just seen magic. he didn’t want to disturb you, but he also didn’t want to stand there, so he greeted you and quickly apologized for scaring you. you smile and say it was fine, then you introduce yourself and it’s in that moment that everything feels right for him.

˒ ⌕ MAX VERSTAPPEN

he first saw you on a sunny afternoon when he went to meet his friends who were also your friends. you weren’t really introduced because there were a lot of people; he was talking to some of his friends and you were talking to your girl friends. he tried to pay attention to the conversation, but his eyes kept going to you. the way your hair looked beautiful in the sun, how your smile was captivating and how you seemed to light up among so many other people. every detail of you was captivating, as if he was watching everything in slow motion. until at a certain point, one of his friends noticed that he wouldn’t stop looking at you and decided to introduce the two of you. as soon as he got close to you and you smiled at him, he knew he were in love.

[sinofwriting]

The Wedding Bells Aren't For Me - Max Verstappen (& Lando Norris)

Words: 1,682 Summary: It’s Oscar’s wedding and Lando is ready. He’s ready to finally ask her out. But Max just had to ruin it. Note(s): Piastri!Reader, Lando is upset and bitter in this. Lando girlies please be nice to me.

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Lando smiles as he watches Oscar and Lily finish their first dance, other people starting to join. It had been a beautiful ceremony, one that Lily had clearly put a lot of thought into and the reception hall showed that as well.

His eyes move around the room, taking in the few different people from McLaren, Oscar’s family, Lily’s family, and drivers, retired, active, never made it to F1, there was quite a collection. He pulls a bit at his tie as he notices the table that a few drivers and their partners had taken over.

Charles and Alex, Pierre and Kika, Lily and Alex, and god that was a bit confusing, Mark was over there as well, Carmen and George and most importantly Y/N, Oscar’s sister.

She was laughing at something Pierre just said, Kika and Alex both examining her nails while Charles shakes his head at the French driver.

She looked gorgeous in her maid of honor dress and Lando can remember the confusion that had flooded him when Oscar had said that she was the maid of honor before he tried to get the best man position despite knowing that Oscar hadn’t even considered him to be a groomsman, they just didn’t talk off and away from the track. Though a bit of bitterness had hit him when he learned who Oscar’s best man was.

The color of the dress brought out her eyes and the thought reminds him of her speech. Talking about how as both sister of the groom and best friend of the bride, she had been so happy when they got together and how thrilled she was to see them take this next step.

A soft smile forms on his face as he remembers her speech, it had been heartfelt and with a few funny moments. He had expected her to bring up some embarrassing moments, but she had only gently teased the couple a few times. Even Logan hadn’t brought up anything embarrassing in his best man speech.

As he stares at her, he can’t help but imagine her in a different dress, in a wedding dress, a veil covering her face as she walks down the aisle to him. It was far too soon to think about to consider, but maybe it was like what people said, there was just something about weddings.

He continues to watch her as she talks to Kika, Alex, Pierre and Charles. Sometimes Mark chiming in or George or Carmen, but it’s mainly those five that are talking. It’s surprising seeing how easy the five converse. He hadn’t really been aware that she was close to Charles or Pierre. He knew she was close to their girlfriends, to most of the driver’s girlfriends, as fans like to share photos of the girls together and talking.

His eyes break away for a moment as he hears the loud sound of laughing and watches as Lily laughs, a hand over her heart as Oscar and Logan bicker about something, he thinks he can hear just the word karting.

It makes him wish Carlos was here, but there was no way in hell that he was ever going to get invited. The thought of Carlos makes his eyebrows furrow because what was Pierre or George doing here?

Oscar wasn’t close to many drivers on track let alone keeping up with them off track. He knew that because of Logan, Alex and him talked a bit off track. Charles and Oscar had joked about the father and son thing, but a genuine friendship had formed after Monaco this year. But Pierre and George made no sense.

The only thing he can think of is that George had been one of the few drivers that had also been somewhat close to Logan, having the same manager, and maybe he had gotten an invite like that. And well Pierre and Charles were probably the friendliest drivers off track, probably the only two that would actually be friends if they hadn’t ended up in F1. They were an oddity.

The sound of her laughs draws him out of his thoughts and he smiles again at the sight, drinking it in.

He doesn’t know why, but the sound of it now fills him with confidence. He was going to do it. He was going to ask her out. He’d wanted to since the 2024 season had started, since after seeing how happy she was for Oscar in Qatar when Oscar won his first sprint race. He should have done it sooner, but it never felt like a good time, but now feels like the perfect time.

She was happy, smiling, and weddings made people think about love, about relationships, being in love.

Lando nods to himself, taking a deep breath. He was going to get up and ask her to dance and then as they danced, maybe he’d press a little closer, maybe not, and he’d ask her to go on a date with him.

He’s just about to get up when he notices someone enter the large room.

Max.

He shakes his head. He knew from overhearing Charles and Pierre that the older driver would be late, having to take his jet later than everyone else coming in due to some meeting or something, but he’d honestly figured it was just an excuse. He knew that Lily and Oscar had sent out the wedding invitations before August, but they hadn’t taken away his invite? Made an excuse about needing to give his seat to someone else?

Then again, Charles was here as well, and if it had been up to Lando he wouldn’t have gotten an invitation or it would have been rescinded after Monza, after Austin, after fucking Vegas.

His eyes go back to Y/N, the sight of her calming him down and he stands, ready to go ever to her when she stands as well. His heart thuds in his chest and he expects her to turn towards him, but she doesn’t. She’s moving, practically running and Lando’s fists clench as she throws her arms around Max’s neck, the other driver’s arm wrapping around her waist and squeezing tight.

The hug seems to go for hours before they finally stop, but even then, it’s just a small step away from the other. Her arms are still around Max’s neck, his hands now settled on her hips and it makes Lando burn. Max shouldn’t be touching her like that, shouldn’t be touching her at all.

Anger fills him as he watches her lean in and then their lips are brushing before Max moves a hand to her lower back, removing what little space there had been between them and fully kisses her.

He just had to take everything from him. From everyone. Max knew how much he wanted the championship, had to have known how much he wanted her, and he still took both from him because that’s all that Max does. Take and never even thinks of giving back.

—

“She never looks at my nails like that.” Pierre complains and she can’t help but laugh, her fingers wiggling a bit in Kika and Alex’s hold. “Paint them and maybe she will.” Pierre makes a face. “But the smell is so bad.” Charles tilts his head in confusion. “The smell?” “It’s a bit chemically. Too strong for some people.” “Ah.” Charles nods. “Like hair dye.” “Actually, exactly like hair dye.”

“Have you guys seen the photo of Charles’ as a blonde?” Her eyes widened at Alex’s words. “No.” Alex reaches for her phone, smiling at Charles when he presses a kiss to her hand before giving it to her. “Someone tagged me in it on TikTok, they did a wonderful job.” She tells them, scrolling before finally turning her phone and showing Pierre and Kika and then her.

Another laugh leaves her as she looks at it and Pierre and Kika join her, having been stifling their laughs.

“Oh, Charles.” “I know.” “Please never bleach your hair.” He shakes his head. “Never.” His fingers twirl a lock of Alex’s hair, tugging it lightly. “This one would murder me.” “Mate, your mother would murder you.” Pierre laughs. “Pascale would murder you and whoever sold you the bleach.” Kika murmurs, making them all laugh.

She’s about to ask how Pascale is, both of Pascales, but her attention is caught by someone entering the room and her eyes widen, a smile blooming across her face and she’s getting up and rushing over to him.

She throws herself at him, grinning at the laugh he gives as his arms wrap around her waist, squeezing her as she squeezes his neck.

“You made it.” She murmurs. “I made it. I nearly killed him but I made it.”

She takes a small step back, Max’s hands settling on her hips, giving them a squeeze and she can’t help but lean in. Lips brushing together before a hand is on her lower back pressing her closer and Max kisses her.

She nearly moans into it.

It had only been a few days, but those days had been long with them only exchanging a few texts as she wrapped herself up in making sure the wedding and reception were perfect while he tried to cram in as many meetings and things as possible so they could just be together for the last two and a half weeks of January.

“I never want to do that again.” Max murmurs when they break apart. She smiles, pecking his lips. “Me neither. And we won’t have to again. I’ll be around you twenty-four seven.” Her heart beats faster, excitement rushes through her as she’s reminded that they now fully live together, she’ll be going to every race this season, she’ll be with Max all the time. “Good. Now, let me congratulate my future brother-in-law.” She beams, kissing him again before they walk over to where Oscar and Lily are and as they do, she can’t help but think of how soon enough it will be Max and her getting congratulations on getting married.

[commandershepardvasfuckit]

There’s a learning curve that comes with being married to someone who wasn’t human. Even more so when it was an arranged marriage and you were sort of just tossed into it.

Your husband was a good man though, a towering 8.5ft tall monster with elephant-like tusks and a whole culture you were still learning, be he took care of you well.

The first time you got your period living together he had no idea what was going on, but happily waiting on you hand and foot. Making sure he brought you pain medicine, snacks, and rubbed your aching joints.

The second time, he walked in on you desperately rubbing your clit to relax some of the cramps away. You were embarrassed beyond words, not that you hadn’t already slept together, but it was still quite the situation to be caught in.

“You know, I can help with that too” he shrugged and sat down the snacks he was bringing for you.

“It’s fine, it’s messy” you shrugged and stopped.

“I don’t care. You know I don’t mind blood” he responded.

“It’s fine”.

“Will it help you feel better?”

“Yeah”

“Then let me” he pushed.

You were not entirely sure what he had in mind, but he seemed pretty eager to help.

“Ok” you conceded.

He wasted no time helping you undress and peppering you with little kisses before settling down to kneel between your legs.

“Oh no no no, you really don’t have to” you began.

“I want to” he said as he lifted your hips up so he could tuck his tusks under you.

You felt his tongue immediately on your clit, the pressure and movements you liked, even better you felt the vibrations from his purring against your clit. He continued, working you over until you were a mewling mess. Once he was satisfied he slipped his tongue between your folds and then pressed into your entrance.

Within minutes you were already close. Between his large tongue giving you a pleasant stretch and the vibrations of his purring. You reached down to pull in his hair, needing to touch him any way you could reach, which only encouraged him more. His tongued was constantly against your g-spot and you enjoyed how every time he seemed to try to explore every inch of you.

He came from a species that did not normally go down, tusks got in the way too much, but once he learned it was an option he made sure to learn how to for you. It was always somewhat of an inelegant affair, his mouth open too far, drooling, no technique, but he did make up for it in sheer enthusiasm.

Your toes curled and you felt the familiar build and release as tingly waves of pleasure diffuse from head to toe. It was nothing intense this time, but he continued well after you finished, making sure beyond a doubt you were sleepy and satisfied.

He finally surfaced, leaning his head against your thigh and looking up at you with such a soft expression, “Feeling better?” he asked.

“For sure” you sighed and affectionately scratched his head.

He got up and went to go clean himself up and returned with clean sheets for the bed after everything. After settling down in bed with you he pulled you up against his chest, your back to him, and put his hands on your tummy, the best hot water bottle for cramps.

You fell asleep easily like that, feeling satisfied and cared for, and happy knowing you could probably swap a few doses of pain medicine for some time with your husband.

(Note: I kept it general, but the husband is from my ongoing Arranged Marriage series in my pinned post!)

[jeongin-lvr]

˚̩̩̥͙ ⠀◌ 𓈒 ꒪ enhypen nsfw thoughts

（𝗁𝗒𝗎𝗇𝗀 + 𝗌𝗎𝗇𝗈𝗈）𝗇𝗂𝗉𝗉𝗅𝖾 𝗉𝗅𝖺𝗒，𝗏𝗈𝗒𝗀𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗆，𝗉𝗎𝗌𝗌𝗒－𝖾𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀，𝗉𝗋𝖺𝗂𝗌𝖾 ＆ 𝖽𝖾𝗀𝗋𝖾𝖽𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇，𝗌𝗂𝗓𝖾 𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗄，𝗆𝖺𝗋𝗄𝗂𝗇𝗀，𝗌𝖼𝗋𝖺𝗍𝖼𝗁𝖾𝗌 ＆ 𝗁𝗂𝖼𝗄𝖾𝗒𝗌，𝗆𝖺𝗅𝖾 𝗆𝖺𝗌𝗍𝗎𝗋𝖻𝖺𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇．

heeseung is so obsessed with you— but more particularly, your tits. he shamlessly stares at them no matter the shirt you’re wearing. tank top? he’s ogling like an idiot at your cleavage. tshirt? he’s soaking up the sight of your perky nipples through the fabric. his favorite thing to do is to lift your shirt and fondle your breasts randomly. you could be making dinner and suddenly he’s fascinated by your chest. or maybe you’re alone with him in an elevator; the elevator could stop at any moment and strangers could walk in and see but he doesn’t seem to care. he’ll pinch your nipples till you’re too needy to continue doing whatever you’re doing. heeseung smirks when you finally fall into his touch and beg him for more.

jay likes fucking you in front of windows. he’s a gentleman, sure, but the sight is so lewd, so disgusting he can’t help but like it. he’ll have you in his t-shirt with your hands on the glass, fucking your pussy raw. jay’ll take you with your tits pressed against the glass and his hand gripping your jaw forward so you’re facing outward. and he’ll do it any time of day too; after work, 8 in the morning, a post-lunch session— he doesn’t care. whispering in your ear about how dirty of a slut you are. telling you you’d be in trouble if anyone say the two of you. what if that new neighbor, heeseung, took notice to your pornographic form pressed against the glass? that’d be terrible...

jake has a very big weakness and it’s 100% your pussy. more specifically the taste of your pussy. it gets him off so good to the point he could just cum in his boxers from eating you out. you moan the prettiest when hes knuckles deep in your hole with his lips sucking hard on your sensitive clit. jake’s the type to jerk himself off as he eats you out, moaning into your pussy as he does it and sending reverberations up your spine and down your feet. but if he’s not fucking his fist, he’s humping the bed like a dog. he’ll whimper, shoving his tongue in your pussy and tearing up as his calloused hand grazes his red tip. praising you, “good girl,“ and “taste so fuckin’ good,“ before his tongue is working designs on your sensitive bundle of nerves.

sunghoon who knows he’s big— he’s bigger than big. he’s massive. he takes pride in the way your eyes widen in fear and desire the first time both of you have sex. telling you that you can take it as he strokes your hair. you can’t— like physically that is not humanly possible... not on the first try at least. so he offers to size train you. and every night you’re bent in all kinds of positions; sometimes taking his cock only by a few inches or maybe he feels special and buys a fancy new toy to torture you with. first it’s 4 inches, then 5, then 6... until you’re all the way to a painfully pleasurable 10. to the base of his cock with your legs over his shoulders and teary eyes. you can barely keep your eyes open as he bullies the last inch of his dick into you, praising you with little pecks across your face, whispering your name in a litany.

sunoo who is secretly obsessed with the idea of you leaving marks all over his body and vice versa. will go out of his way to suck harsh purple marks into your neck as he rythmically pushes into you, purposely hitting your sensitive spots so that your nails dig into his nude back. sunoo has an infatuation with the idea of people seeing and knowing you’re his and he’s yours based off the marks alone. after particularly long sessions in bed if you’re not covered in hickeys and red prints he’s not satisfied; if his back isn’t covered in bright crimson lines and his neck in bite marks he’ll actually pout. he wants to admire them in the mirror. he wants his friends and the strangers on the street to know that he fucks.

[figthoughts]

dean winchester and his sweet little angel girlfriend 18+ ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ ࣪

warnings: light smut, (dean x angel!reader)

⋆.ೃ࿔*:･

dean's large leather boots clunked down the hallway of the bunker as he headed towards his room, fresh off a hunt and eager to see his little angel after almost a week of being apart. despite texting and praying everyday, he had missed his girl like crazy.

the loud footsteps didn't even register in your brain as you desperately rocked your hips, riding dean's pillow. your eyes were squeezed shut and you bit at your bottom lip, trying to stifle your pathetic little moans from echoing beyond dean's room, feeling embarrassed and shameful about pleasing yourself.

dean's brow quirked as he heard the soft noises coming from his bedroom. he sped up his footsteps and arrived at the door, slowly pushing it further open to peek inside.

his lips grew into a smirk and he leaned against the doorframe, watching you grind your bare little cunt into his pillow. he watched as your chest rose and fell with every little pant. he felt himself begin to harden under his jeans.

“damn, baby,” he began after silently watching you for a few moments, “is this what you do when i'm out on a hunt? ride my pillow like that?” he tilted his head, the smirk remaining on his lips.

you looked at him with wide eyes, blush slowly rising to your cheeks as the embarrassment clenched at your chest, a feeling you were still trying to get used to in your human vessel.

“dean!” you gasped, “you’re home! i— i didn't know you’d be back tonight,” you muttered sheepishly, embarrassed you'd been caught riding his pillow. you were frozen on top of it as you stared at him.

“hey, it’s okay. i just wanted to surprise you,” he responded softly, stepping into the room and closing his door, “but i guess my little angel's gone and done that for me already,” he let out a quiet huff of a laugh, “s'okay, baby. it was hot, so hot, i promise. keep going for me, yeah? i wanna see my girl cum on my pillow.”

your cheeks heated up even more at the idea of continuing to please yourself in front of him. you'd only just gotten comfortable with having sex with dean in these past few months, the idea of doing this felt almost sinful.

dean sat down on the edge of the bed, a gentle smile on his face. he brushed his hand over your cheek, noticing the apprehension on face, “go on, angel. please?” he asked, his voice a low murmur. he searched your eyes, almost pleadingly.

you let a small shy smile spread across your lips, enjoying the warmth and familiarity of his touch. you looked into his green eyes. you couldn’t help but see his love for you. you felt that funny feeling in your chest again, pulling at your heartstrings. you knew you could trust him to watch, to see you this vulnerable.

with a nervous little sigh, you settled your legs and hips back into the pillow, “mmph, fine. just don't— don't say anything. i feel silly, dean.”

he chuckled and let his eyes trace over you, almost reverently. “don't. don't feel silly. you look incredible, baby. it's hot to see my girl making herself feel good... especially on my pillow in my zeppelin shirt,” he smiled and tugged at the shirt you had mindlessly thrown on earlier that evening.

“mmm, okay…” you looked down, trying to hide your sheepish smile, and began rolling your hips over the pillow again. you let out a soft hum of pleasure and avoided his gaze, looking down at your hands as they squeezed the end of the pillow.

“baby, look at me. i wanna see your pretty face... please?” dean asked, his voice just above a whisper. he watched as you slowly lifted your head, your eyes finally meeting his gaze. he smiled softly, watching your cheeks flush again. “you look so beautiful, angel. my pretty baby,” he cooed, his eyes watching you in awe as you rode his pillow, your bare pussy drooling at the friction.

you let out soft little whimpers as you dug your heat further into the fabric, drenching it with your arousal. dean's jeans grew tighter and tighter and he shifted uncomfortably on the bed, keeping his gaze on you, taking in the sight of his angel looking so pretty and pathetic.

it was a side of you that you didn’t allow him to see very often. he was infatuated with you, his angel letting her guard down and being so vulnerable in front of him. he was used to your firm demeanour and sometimes odd, but endearing little comments you’d make about the world as you learnt more, seeing it all through your angel eyes.

as he watched you hump his pillow and let out sweet little whimpers, his heart thudded in his chest. he was watching you become more human. become more like him. and it made his heart swell, knowing it was all from watching and learning from him. and maybe his brother.

he grinned as your soft noises became louder and louder, enjoying the way you were becoming so shameless and wanton as you rode the pillow. he leaned back on the bed, trying to find relief for his aching cock, trapped by the denim of his jeans.

“that’s it, sweet girl. let me hear those pretty little whimpers. you’re so damn beautiful.” dean said, his words making your head spin a little as you mindlessly humped his pillow.

dean chuckled, watching your legs shake and muscles tense as you neared your orgasm. you felt the tightness in your stomach grow, obscene words and grunts flying out of your mouth, dean's name leaving your lips like a prayer.

dean couldn't get enough of this. of you. you looked so little and beautiful, his own little angel pleasuring herself on his pillow. he considered himself the luckiest man in the world, blessed even. blessed that a heavenly little thing like you would want an old, damaged hunter like himself. in moments like this, he really felt his heart was going to burst out of his chest.

you were heaven sent. you were his girl. his angel. and he was so damn proud about it.

his eyes stayed locked on you as you drove your pussy into the pillow harder, leaving a little wet patch just below you. dean smiled even wider and his tongue shot out, wetting his lips as he noticed it, a soft groan escaping his mouth.

your face scrunched and a loud whimper left your mouth as your hips jerked on the pillow. “gonna-- mmm, dean... gonna cum... please, can i?” you asked innocently through breathy little groans. the sight of your soft, innocent eyes almost made dean melt right there on the bed.

dean nodded, his voice a gentle tone, “yeah, baby. let go. show me how good it feels.”

you cried out and bit your lip as your release washed over you, your soaked little cunt clenching around nothing and drooling onto the pillow even more. your eyes were squeezed shut as little moans and sighs left your mouth. you sounded like a pathetic whiny mess, gushing all over your boyfriend's pillow.

dean's cock strained against his jeans, aching to be freed. his words were deep and rumbled straight out of his chest, “that's it, pretty baby. cum for me. you’re such a good little girl. my perfect angel,” the praises left his lips like a soft hymn, buzzing through your empty little head as you rode the high of your climax.

as you tried to catch your breath, you blinked slowly up at dean. your eyes met and his smile widened, noticing the flushed look on your face, “did so well. sounded like heaven, baby. you're so beautiful.”

you let out a satisfied sigh and rolled your eyes tiredly, “heaven doesn’t have much of a sound, dean,” you commented, sincerity in your voice.

dean laughed as he sat up, adjusting the bulge in his pants, “it's an expression, angel. it's a good thing. means you sounded incredible.”

you smile grew softer at his words, the feelings of shame and embarrassment leaving your chest as he looked at you with such loving eyes. you could feel the adoration in his stare.

“felt incredible,” you mumbled in response. you tilted your head and studied him for a moment, “dean, i— i think i liked you watching me. made it feel better. harder... maybe,” you commented again, the regular factual tone of your voice returning.

dean smirked and tilted his head in return, “oh, yeah? felt better with me watching?” he tutted his tongue against his teeth playfully, “my angel's secretly a dirty little girl. god, what have i done to you?” he said teasingly and chuckled.

you rolled your eyes with a sheepish grin as you sunk down tiredly into the pillow, “i am not filthy... or unpure, dean. and please, refrain from speaking about my father when i’m naked and coming down from an orgasm.”

dean chucked, shaking his head in amusement as he scooted closer, wrapping his arms around your frame and pulling you against him.

he was always entertained by your literal interpretations and how seriously you took things, though he couldn’t deny you were getting better at recognising his jokes and phrases. and he was proud of that.

he squeezed you against his chest, soaking up the feeling of you in his arms again after so many days, “sorry, baby, accident. no more god-talk… but you are filthy. my dirty little angel,” he grinned and kissed the top of your head.

dean looked down at you for a few moments, his green eyes sparkled as they travelled over your features, appreciating your beauty post-orgasm. he carefully laid you back against the mattress, “i'm gonna ruin you to filth, baby. you won't remember a damn thing, but my name when i’m done with you.”

A/N: part two?!!! maybe?? send ideas for part two if u want!!i lowkey like the dynamic between these two. might make a series maybe idk lmk <3 also thank you for 500 followers??? that’s crazy!!!

feedback and reqs are open and encouraged! thanks for reading!

[writerdownbookworder]

“What’re you doing here?” I mumble over my shoulder. Although I’m not looking, I know without a doubt who it is.

Ray sighs. “Look, for what it’s worth, I’m sorry.”

“Not worth much,” I say, staring at the picture of my partner, framed and unnatural. She never would have wanted this. Her family didn’t know her anymore, why were they allowed to make these choices?

A groan behind me finally makes me turn. Ray stands there with his arms crossed, full disguise. I stare at him so long - not thinking much of anything, just numb - that I startle when he clears his throat.

“How long are you going to mope like this, Saga?”” He uses my code name, although I’m not dressed in my usual clothes. I didn’t take much care with my disguise today, just throwing on my mask and hood over dark clothes for the funeral.

I look away. “”If you came here to fight, let’s just get it over with. I’m not in the mood today.”

He sighs again. Why does he keep doing that? “I’m not here to fight. I’m here to pay my respects. I know you and Kya were close.”

“It’s my fault,” I whisper, turning back to the picture. She wasn’t just my partner, she was my best friend. I knew she was still a newbie, and I told her to go by herself. I thought she could handle it. 

By the time I got there, it was too late.

“Hey,” Ray says gently, shocking me. “It wasn’t your fault. I was there, remember? No one could have predicted that a normal everyday occurrence would turn so violent.” 

It was true. Ray had been there, for the same reason I was. Our fight had traveled several blocks and we happened to chance upon the scene. My fight with Ray had been forgotten as I rushed to Kya’s aid, and until this moment, I had forgotten he had been there at all.

I start walking toward the door, unable to stay a moment longer. 

Ray follows me. “It’s okay to be sad, Saga.”

I stubbornly ignore him.

He rolls his eyes behind me and I scoff. “You know I can see you. Why do you insist on being rude anyway?”

He grins. “It’s what I do best. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

“Argh!” I whip around to face him, face red with anger. Ray actually takes a step back. “I am not okay! My rookie died because of something I told them to do! My best friend is gone because I wasn’t there for her! And worst of all, she never got the chance to do anything she wanted to do! She was only 19…” My voice trails off with a sob.

Ray opens his mouth, but I cut him off. “No, you know what’s worse? You, coming here, to her funeral to mock me. Follow me, fight me, yell at me to your heart's content, but don’t sit here and mock me by pretending you care about Kya or my feelings!”

“Fine!” he snaps back, finally losing his temper. “I’ll tell you the truth if you want!”

I throw my hands up in frustration. “What I really want is for you to leave me alone, but go ahead!”

Ray’s voice drops back down in volume, slightly lower than his regular speaking tone, his voice shaking slightly with anger. “I’m not pretending anything. I may not have known Kya much at all, but I do know that on the few occasions I saw her, she seemed to be a genuinely good and happy person.”

“Why do you-”

“I’m not finished!” he snaps, before continuing again. “As for you, I do know you. I knew you would blame yourself, I knew you would be upset and sad, I knew that you would be here, and I knew you would stay long after everyone else left. I know you. Your feelings haven’t been a mystery to me for years! 

“The truth is, I know who you are.” He doesn’t meet my eyes as he says it. “Inside, outside, underneath the mask and hood. You aren’t a mystery to me. I honestly thought you would recognize me long before now.”

I stare at him, unable to speak, trying to understand what he is telling me. “You-”

Ray looks up into my eyes, voice soft. “Emma.”

He slowly pulls off the mask, revealing the one face I didn’t expect to see.

The one that equal parts of me hated and loved, unable to decide between desire and defense. Part of me never wanted to see him again, had hoped he died.

Part of me was so relieved that I wanted to cry.

I chose the latter.

your a super Villian/super hero who's partner just died. When the funeral was supposed to be attended, nobody came, except for one person, your arch nemesis, who came there to comfort you through these tough times

[amorisxx]

Snickerdoodle pt. iv

pairing: Art Donaldson x reader, Patrick Zweig x reader, Tashi Duncan x reader summary: Art comes out of retirement to test out his coaching skills. Your relationship with him continues to spiral. warnings: smut 18+, cheating, divorce, rough sex, piv, marijuana use, slight angst, hastily proofread word count: 7.7K divider by @cafekitsune <3 prev part

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

Kaleb decides he wants to play tennis. Or that he wants to “get serious” about it. He’d done tennis camp every summer along with soccer camp, and he’d enjoyed it enough. But for some reason, he’s determined to be a tennis player now. You blame it on how much time he’s been spending around the Donaldson’s. Between the various play dates and carpooling, he and Lily have been attached at the hip.

The two of you are enjoying a quiet evening  on a weeknight when he brings it up. 

“Lily doesn’t really like tennis,” he tells you in between bites of mashed potatoes. 

“Well that’s okay. Sometimes our friends end up having different hobbies,” you say.

“Hm,” he puts his finger to his chin, “kinda like you and Mr. Art?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well he’s like the greatest tennis player ever,” he says, spreading his arms out wide. “But you’re terrible at tennis. And you guys are friends right?”

His assertion has you placing your fork down. “Okay, first of all, I’m not terrible at tennis. Secondly, it’s really not fair to compare me to a professional tennis player, K, he’s had years of practice.” Then, you reluctantly think of the last thing he said. About the two of you being friends. 

Images of Art kneeling above you in bed dance through your mind. You think of the last time you were with him. How he’d laid his cheek on your thigh while you threaded your fingers through his tufts of blonde hair. His gaze searing as he watched you in all your post-orgasmic bliss. Your chest was still heaving as you tried to recover.  

You clear your throat. 

“Yeah, um, I guess we are friends.” You avoid eye contact with Kaleb and pray he changes the subject. You don’t want to think about Art. 

Unfortunately, your son is too young to properly read the room. If he was, he’d see the way you’re clenching your fork in your fist. Or he would’ve realized by now that his mom is a harlot. Instead of calling you out on your immorality, he turns to you with express earnestness. “I wanna play tennis like Mr. Art,” he says definitively.

He then furrows his little eyebrows and asks you, “you think I can be as good as him one day?”

You smile, reach over to smooth your palm over his curls, and tug his ear. You say what every parent would. “I think you can do whatever you put your mind to, my little monkey.” 

He grins at you, dimple poking out.

After all, you’re almost certain this is just an eager phase prompted by Lily bringing Tashi to school for career day. Tashi mentioned to you that Kaleb was very eager to ask questions about her job. Apparently, he thought it was super cool that she “got to coach the best tennis players in the world.” You’re worried that before dinner is over he might ask you to put in a word with her about coaching him. 

Once you’ve finished eating, tucked Kaleb in, and tidied up the kitchen, you finally get to relax with a cup of lavender chamomile tea.

Before you settle into the refuge of your bed, you make a note to sign Kaleb up for club tennis. 

ᯓ

You’re at a gas station near Kaleb’s school when you realize your dumb credit card has a faulty chip. You grab your purse and lock the doors to your car, having been forced to go inside the store and pay for your gas the old fashioned way. 

The door shuts behind you with a ring of a bell. The unmistakable smell of fuel fills your nostrils as it mixes with stale coffee and the emblematic stench of small convenience stores. You grumble when you see there’s a short line. 

With a sigh, you take a detour down one of the narrow aisles to grab a pack of gum. You pick out a random pack of spearmint, but your inner child lingers on the yellow packaging of juicy fruit bubble gum sitting beside it. When you were little, your mom would’ve made you pick one or the other. Without a second thought, you pluck the yellow pack out from the shelf and head back towards the front. 

On your walk back, you glance out the windows, checking to make sure the pump you’re parked at is still number 5. 

The line is shorter now. There’s only two people. You think you recognize the dark head of the person standing at the counter. They’re digging through the back pocket of their jeans and pulling out a leather wallet when your cellphone dings. It’s an email notification from your boss. You read the subject header before dropping the phone back into your purse, hoping to avoid whatever stressor awaits you there for a couple more hours or so. When you look back up, you’re met with the face of the dark haired stranger. 

His eyes meet yours. Patrick Zweig sends you a mischievous smile of recognition as he saunters toward you. He snaps his fingers. “I know you.”

“Hi, Patrick,” you say through your tight smile. The last time you’d seen him, he tried to blackmail you into going out with him. If he wasn’t so attractive, you’d probably be repulsed by him. 

“Long time no see.” He pockets his package of Marlboros. “How you been?”

“Um just busy you know,” you hum. “You?” 

He nods. “Same, same.” He looks you over, smile growing wider when he meets your eyes after lingering on your cleavage. He doesn’t even attempt to be discreet. 

You scoff, rolling your eyes to the side.

Thankfully, the bald guy in front of you finishes up his transaction so you have an excuse to say “excuse me” to Patrick as you approach the register. You glance back when you hand your money to the bored cashier, catching one last glimpse of Patrick as he exits through the door. You nibble on the inside of your cheek, feeling the tiniest hint of disappointment. 

You accept your change and two packs of gum and make your way back to your car. Not wanting to waste any more time at this point, you toss the plastic bag into the passenger seat and hurry to pump your gas.  

You’re leaning against the trunk while the fuel fills your tank when you hear a small “hey.” 

You’re startled as Patrick approaches you again. You look around suspiciously. “Um are you stalking me?” 

“No.” He huffs out a laugh. “I was standing over there taking a smoke.” He points towards his beat up suv. You wonder why he doesn’t have a better car. You thought tennis players made money. “And I saw you. Didn’t get to say goodbye earlier.” 

You click your tongue. “Well, bye.” 

“Wait—I hope I didn’t rub you the wrong way last time.” He rubs his palm over the back of his neck. “I kind of have a fucked up sense of humor.” 

“It wasn’t the joke,” you supply. “It was more so you trying to blackmail me into going on a date with you.” 

He laughs. “Yeah, I don’t know why that didn’t work.” The grin he gives you sends a shiver down your spine. 

This time, you smirk, your gaze tracing the length of his body, from his Nikes to the curly wisps of hair flying in the wind. The gas pump clicks, signifying that your tank is full. You don’t remove it right away because you’re busy letting Patrick type his number into your phone. You wish you could say you played hard to get, but that would be a lie of monumental magnitude. 

You don’t actually intend to call him, content to let his number go forgotten in your phone. After all, what type of woman would get involved with the best friend of the man she’s having an affair with? 

Later on, when you’re having a glass of wine, mommy duties complete for the night, you pause on his number as you tap through your phone. You inhale, take a sip from your glass, and quickly save his contact before swiping out of the app. You can blame it on your being slightly tipsy when you notice that he’s saved as “for a rainy day.” 

ᯓ

It turns out that the tennis thing isn’t just a phase. You don’t mind of course. You’d always support your kid in whatever he pursued. The only issue is that Art fucking Donaldson thought it would be a good idea to train little Kaleb. As if you needed more reasons to be around the man. 

You’d told him that you didn’t think it was necessary because your son was only eight years old. Surely, he wouldn’t need a retired professional tennis player to train him. His tennis lessons at the local club would certainly suffice. Plus, you imagined he had more important things to attend to than give private lessons to a third grader. 

On a random weeknight, you’d gone to pick Kaleb up from a play date with Lily, hoping to grab him and get back home before the rain got any worse. Art had greeted you at the door, placing a hand on the small of your back. 

He decided to bring up the topic again. Even Tashi, who was usually busy with training of her own, chimed in, claiming it would be a good opportunity for Art to find real meaning in tennis again. Whatever that meant. Patrick, who you had been avoiding thinking about, once again inserted himself into a conversation, pointing out how young he and Art were when they first started playing tennis. According to him, it was never too early to learn how to properly hit a ball with a racket. 

ᯓ

The thought of Art spending time with Kaleb through tennis is an endearing one if you’re being honest with yourself. But you know you would have an intense fight on your hands should Chris find out. 

Ever since Art had stepped in with your ex at the fall festival, he’d harbored an attitude toward him. He’d gone as far as complaining about all the time Kaleb spent at his house, accusing you of trying to turn your son against him. If it weren’t for the court mandated visits, you’d have simply told Chris to go to hell. But in an attempt to maintain peace for your son’s sake, you reassured him that Kaleb only spent so much time around Art because Lily was his best friend. 

You asked him if it was worth destroying his son’s friendship. He conceded for the time being, but you’re sure if he found out about any extra tennis lessons, he’d blow a gasket. 

Ironically, you had never been offered the freedom to express such possessiveness. You had to be content each and every time your son stayed at his father’s new house with his new fiancée that you barely knew anything about. You handle some occasions better than others. 

This time, though, when you watch Kaleb go through the front door of their luxurious home, Spider-Man backpack affixed on his back, your stomach churns. Chris’ fiancée smiles and waves to you with her left hand. Bitterly, you think it’s a miracle she can even lift it with the large diamond wrapped around her finger. She places her hand on your son’s shoulder, pulling him into their home, as if she wasn’t the one that helped wreck yours. 

Maybe it’s the fact that this past week would’ve been your anniversary, but your shoulders shake with sobs throughout the entire drive home. You sniffle as you think about Kaleb building a life with his soon to be step-mom. You hope she treats him right, but, ultimately, you wish he didn’t have to know her at all. 

It doesn’t help that you aren’t able to bury your sorrows in Art’s chest or on his dick. He’d already told you about the gala he’d be attending that weekend for the Donaldson Foundation. You haven’t seen him since last weekend, and you ache to call him, but the thought makes you feel nauseous when you think about the wretched irony of seeking comfort in a married man. In a decision that’s almost homogeneously pathetic, you sit in your lonely driveway and send a “hey” to ‘for a rainy day.’

ᯓ

It doesn’t take long for Patrick to offer to come over. You send him your location as you pop open a bottle of wine. 

You reach for a glass, your eagerness causing you to apply too much force as you slam the glass down. It breaks under the pressure of your haste, immediately cracking at the stem. The inconvenience is too much for you. You curse before bringing the entire bottle up to your mouth. You take a swig, red liquid spilling out of the corner of your mouth. With a gasp, you wipe your mouth with the back of your hand. Pitifully, your vision starts to blur again as your eyes swell up with hot tears. You resort to sitting on the kitchen floor, taking the occasional drink, and wallowing in your despair. 

You’re propped against the cabinet, knees to your chest as you cradle the green tinted bottle of red wine like a toddler holding a stuffed animal, when you hear your doorbell ring. You stumble to your feet, dragging them as you move toward the door. When you swing the door open, Patrick is standing there with his hands in his pockets. He looks you over once, mumbling that you “look like shit” before stepping into your home as if he’d been there a thousand times. 

He lifts his eyebrows when he sees the neglected pieces of glass on your counter. He looks back at the bottle in your fist before groaning. “Please don’t tell me you’re an alcoholic.” 

You roll your eyes. “No, I’m just having a pretty shitty day.” 

“No shit,” he snorts. 

You send him a glare. “I don’t even know why I called you,” you say and rub your temples. 

“Because I’m obviously easy and you know it.” He smirks. 

It makes you laugh, your red, puffy eyes squinting back at him. 

Patrick eventually convinces you to smoke the joint he’d brought with him. You haven’t gotten high in years, and you find yourself mindlessly rambling about your life as you pass the joint back and forth to him. You’d stopped crying a while ago, your eyes now red because of the weed. 

You and Patrick are lounging on the floor of your living room. You’re dragging your fingers through the shag rug underneath you and leaning your head back on the sofa when you hear him laugh. He sounds like he’s far away, down through a tunnel, but when you turn your head, his face is right beside you. 

“What’s funny?” You grunt. 

He shakes his head. “S’nothing.” 

You frown and shove his bicep. “Tell me,” you say, scooting closer to him. “I hate feeling left out.” 

His smile falters for a second like he’s remembering something, but when you blink he’s sporting a melancholic grin. “It’s just—you kind of remind me a lot of Art.” His head falls to the side to really look at you. “I mean not like completely, and not really how he is now, but when you’re upset—it reminds me of when we were teenagers.” 

“I can’t tell if that’s a good thing or not,” you say. It comes out as a whisper. Your faces are so close that you don’t want to startle him. 

“Hm.” His eyes flicker to your lips. “Not a good or bad thing. Just a thing.” 

“That’s why you like me?” You mumble teasingly. “Because I remind you of your boyfriend?” 

He smirks, lips so close to yours you feel his breath fan them. “Who said I liked you?” 

“You don’t have to.” You’re just the slightest movement away from kissing him. If you tilt your head just the tiniest bit—

He lets out an almost imperceptible moan when he finally presses his lips to yours. It’s so quiet, you think you might’ve imagined it. It all happens incredibly fast, but feels like slow motion. Your head is fuzzy and your body is tingling as Patrick grabs your waist, hoisting you onto his lap. It takes you a moment to build momentum, your sensory overload working against you.

When you’re finally able to match his energy, the kiss is searing. He’s sucking your lip into his mouth like you’re already his, hands roaming everywhere he can get them. When he bites your bottom lip, you suck in a breath, giving him room to thrust his tongue into your mouth. You mewl at the way your mouths seem to fit together like velcro. Your toes curl and you tighten your fists into his dark locks when you feel his hot tongue traveling down your throat, leaving white hot bites that feel like being branded. His teeth sting and your cunt throbs as you impulsively rut against his length. 

Patrick rubs his large palm over your ass before abruptly smacking it, making you release an embarrassingly airy moan. His teeth tug on your earlobe. “You like that?” 

You only nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders. 

“Hmm?” He mumbles, continuing to lave over the skin behind your ear. His hand comes down on your ass again, harder this time. 

You let out a pathetic squeal and slam your hips down against him in search of some kind of friction to relieve the ache between your legs. “Oh god—please fuck me—“

His mouth meets yours again. You can barely kiss him properly, panting about needing him to fuck you right now. 

He really is easy, you think, but it’s not like you have room to talk.

ᯓ

The first time Patrick Zweig sinks his cock into you, you’re on your knees, face pressed against your rug. The slam of his hips threaten to take your breath away as tears cling to your eyelashes. He’s rough, possessively grabbing your flesh with no regard for potential damage. When he experimentally grips your hair in his hand, tugging your head back gently, you see stars behind your clamped eyelids.

Patrick nearly whimpers at the way it makes you arch your back into his thrusts with increasing intensity. He groans something about you being a slut and fists your hair with less restraint. Your walls clench around him when he wraps his hand around your throat, pulling you to his chest. 

He grunts into your ear. “I knew you liked it rough, could tell from the first time I saw you.” 

The tears have started to spill now. Whether it’s from the humiliation or the utter ecstasy, you aren’t sure. All you know is that you almost sob when Patrick drags his tongue alongside your face, collecting the salty tears.

ᯓ

He buries himself inside you for a second time no more than twenty minutes after you’ve both cum. You gasp and claw at his back as his body presses you into your couch cushions.

You have to admit that Patrick knows how to fuck. Knows how to read your body, tapping into just the right frequency to get you off. 

It’s obvious that you’ve been craving this type of treatment from the way you’re responding to him. But you’re sure that he must have a sexual sixth sense because in the midst of fucking you wildly, he grabs your ankle that’s dangling by his ear, turns his head, and plants a sweet kiss to the bone. It makes you melt into the sofa. 

He leans down to shove his tongue into your open mouth. Softly pats your cheek, relishing in your cock drunk state. 

“Does he fuck you like this?” He murmurs into your neck.

You don’t have to ask who he’s talking about. 

“Huh?” He prods. 

You choke down a moan. “Better. He—“ You cry out when you feel him start rubbing harsh circles into your clit. “He fucks me better.” 

He huffs out a laugh through his smile, but his hips slam down harder as if he’s determined to change your answer. In less than a minute, you’re biting down on his shoulder when you feel another orgasm rack through your body. 

ᯓ

You take a longer break this time. Stopping to pour yourself a real glass of wine. One with its stem intact. Patrick lazily inhales from a cigarette as he watches you, with hooded eyes, attempt to hold a throw blanket over your bare torso. In contrast, he nonchalantly spreads his thighs over your couch, body on full display. 

His eyes leisurely meet yours. They shine prettily in the dim lighting of your home. His dark lashes flutter on each drag of his cig and it makes the corner of your mouth curve up when you take a sip. The lamps have cast a cozy shade of amber over the room. It blankets Patrick’s skin in a golden aura reminiscent of something being baked in an oven. 

Patrick reminds you of the gingerbread man, you think. It makes you press the tips of your fingers to your lips to stifle a giggle. 

He tilts his head at your odd behavior, but he assumes the weed must still be affecting you. 

Once you’ve placed your glass on the coffee table, and he’s put out his cigarette, Patrick is pulling you by the ankle, tossing your blanket to the side and kissing his way down your abdomen. 

You yelp when he captures one of your hard nipples in his mouth but let him press his hot kisses into your skin nonetheless. 

You end up cumming for the third time that night with his head buried between your legs. 

ᯓ

Patrick leaves while you’re asleep. 

When you wake up around 3am to an empty house, you think it’s for the best. You check your phone. You have a missed call from “a.d.” and a text from Patrick that says “had fun” with a winking emoji. You don’t respond to either, instead, opting to pad your bare feet to the bathroom. You desperately need a shower.

In the morning, you tidy up your home from the events of the night before, cringing at what took place on the terracotta colored sofa.

When the buzzing in your head doesn’t stop after cleaning your entire living room from top to bottom, you find yourself in the kitchen, pulling out ingredients to make chocolate chip cookies. 

You’re frantically kneading dough when the doorbell rings. You frown, not expecting company, but clean your hands as best you can as you make your way to open the door. Sometimes, your talkative neighbor, Mrs. Taylor, likes to come knocking on your door early in the mornings. 

You’re surprised to find that Art is standing on the other side with a latte and a bag containing a chocolate croissant. You assume it’s for you. He places his things down on the table by the door, the one that holds your catch all tray, and scoops you up into a hug. 

He groans into it, making you smile. “Hi,” you mumble into his chest. 

“Hi, pretty girl,” his voice comes out equally mumbled. “Missed you.” You can hear the grin in his tone. It makes your heart clench. 

You allow yourself to hold onto him, despite the ever present worry that you should be reining yourself in when it comes to him. He moves to let you go, grabbing your face in his palm and kissing the side of your head. You whine and lock your arms around his waist in protest. You inhale his scent, all warm and familiar. You’ve missed him. 

“Baby,” he laughs into your hair. You grunt, squeezing him tighter. “Okay, c’mere.” He pulls you into him, securely engulfing you in his arms. “I got you, I got you.” 

You eventually release him long enough to walk into your home. 

You’re relieved that you’d been overtaken by a cleaning spell this morning because you fear that Art might take one glance at your couch and figure out who had been here. That he’d smell him in the air. 

You’re afraid he might’ve detected it anyway when he freezes in the walkway separating your kitchen from the living room. You nibble on your lip as you try to search his body for any signs that he’s onto you. 

To your relief, Art is actually focused on the copious amounts of cookie dough you have on the counter of your kitchen island. He turns to you with the all knowing look of a father, his eyes creased with concern. “Oh no, what happened?” 

ᯓ

After a therapy session in which you decide to stop letting your ex influence your decisions from afar, you finally relent, allowing Art to begin practicing with Kaleb on their private tennis court. It seems like since you got involved with their family, that’s all you ever do, give in to everyone’s requests. In any other context, it would be disturbing, but the sight of Kaleb racing to the court with an oversized tennis bag fills you with joy. The bag threatens to pull him down, but his excitement keeps him upright as he makes a beeline for Art. 

You don’t know who’s more excited to see Art between the two of you. Your son’s tennis instructor waves at you from across the court. And you have to fight the rush that flows through you, threatening to cut off your oxygen, and give a simple wave in return. It makes you feel like a kid with a fervent crush. You could gag.

You remind yourself that you’re here for Kaleb. Not you.

You think that as long as you get to see him happy like that, you’d agree to anything. It’s a scary notion, but becoming a mom has made you aware of a lot of terrifying realities. 

ᯓ

It’s this maternal need to preserve your son’s happiness that leads you to another prolonged encounter with Tashi Duncan. She’d caught you when you were dropping him off for tennis lessons one day. Apparently, she had a free day. Lily was spending the day with her grandparents, and Patrick is, thankfully, nowhere to be found. You try to hide your relief when she tells you that. You don’t think you can face him right now. 

She insists you join her in their sunroom while the boys practice. You try to think of an excuse to turn her down, but you decide your karma from sleeping with her husband has built up too much to take the chance of tacking on more. So, when she offers to make you a cup of tea, you oblige and sink down into the fabric of a warm sofa.

When Tashi reappears, she sits down with a cup of steaming hot tea for the both of you. You thank her with a smile, letting your eyes trail over her figure. She looks ethereal. The sunlight pouring through the glass forms a halo of light around her, illuminating her like a Madonna painting. She has her hair pulled back into a low ponytail that causes her to have to tuck the loose strands behind her ear every now and then. The motion makes you take notice of her slim neck and the way her collarbones dip into her loose-fitted button down. Even dressed casually, she looks like a goddess. 

You feel your heart start to beat a little faster and reach to take a sip of your tea. You wonder how she knew that lavender chamomile was one of your favorites.

It’s only awkward for a moment because the two of you quickly fall into a conversation about what she’s missed now that Art has taken over attending the PTA meetings. That’s how you’d initially met her. She had actually been the one who you exchanged communication with about carpool and play dates. Art’s retirement allowed her to focus on tennis and other aspects of raising Lily that she preferred. You giggle when she admits that she never really liked those meetings anyway. You don’t tell her that you always had that inkling. 

When you mention that Cynthia is still advertising her knitting business at every single meeting, she sucks in a laugh before leaning toward you. She presses her lips together, holding in her giggle. “Guess what?”

You squint at her, your expression already anticipating a joke. “What?” You all but sputter out. 

“I’m probably responsible for like half the sales on her Etsy shop.” She says like she’s admitting to something top secret. It’s a lot like the expression Lily takes on when her and Kaleb are playing “secret agent.”

“Girl, what?” You didn’t think she’d be a fan of crocheted animal figures. 

“I ordered one for my mom for Mother’s Day,” she explains. “She fell in love with the thing I swear, thought it looked just like her little Yorkie, next thing you know she’s asking for the link to share with all her friends.” 

You’re snickering into your mug imagining Tashi unintentionally being Cynthia’s best saleswoman.

She smiles at you. “I’m serious. Apparently, amigurumi is the new thing. It’s gonna be flying off the shelves. That’s why I had to go ahead and put in my order.”

“Of course you know the official term.” You toss your head back. “What’s yours look like?” 

“It’s a little tabby cat,” she smiles wistfully. “Like the one I had growing up. Her name was Aphrodite.” 

It’s a fitting name.

You’re biting back a grin as you take a sip from your tea. You sigh at the taste. “How’d you know what type of tea I liked?” You ask absentmindedly. 

“Art mentioned it to me.” 

You freeze. “Art?” 

“Yeah he says you like to make it before bed. Now, he’s hooked on it.” 

All the blood in your body rushes to your head. You feel that unwelcome yet proverbial sinking in your gut. You think you might start projectile vomiting.

“Are you okay?”

You don’t respond. It’s hard to speak when you feel like you’re dangling upside down on a roller coaster.

“Wait… you didn’t think I knew did you?”

For some unintelligent reason, you decide to play stupid. Usually, in times of danger, humans resort to fight, flight, or freeze. You choose fucking idiot. “Knew what?”

“That you’re fucking my husband.” Tashi says quite unceremoniously.

“What—what do you mean?” You squeak out.

“Don’t.” She laughs. “I’ve known the whole time.” 

“How?” Your voice is shrinking smaller and smaller to your ears. The sound of Tashi’s voice, her pert laughter, drowning it out.

“Art tells me everything.”

“And you’re okay with it?” You attempt to ask though you can barely hear it.

You know your question reaches her ears because she shakes her head and tells you, “I suggested it.” 

Your eyes go wide. Her divulgence seems to propel you forward on your metaphorical roller coaster. In a snap, it brings you out of your stupor.

“I told Art that he should fuck you.” She says it like it’s nothing. Like it’s as simple as telling him to pick up some carry out on the way home. 

You’re confused, and your head is starting to hurt from the whiplash, and you wish this ride would end already. “I’m—I’m not sure I understand what’s going on here.”

“Okay, well, Art’s been attracted to you since the day he met you,” she says plainly. “But he’d never actually do anything about it because that’s just who he is. He needed that push—“

“That push?”

She nods. “He needed to know he could do it and everything would be fine. He’s still figuring out how to be open to stuff like this.” She explains, gestures vaguely in the air. “He’d never break up what seemed like a happy marriage, but when it was clear that your marriage was far from happy…well he started to warm up to the idea.”

“What do you mean far from happy?” The shock has you feeling unreasonably defensive.

“Clearly something was off. You never seemed happy with him. You’ve said it yourself that he was a dick.”

“Um—okay, well, I’d say something has to be off if you’re coaching your husband into sleeping with unsuspecting women.” You shoot back. Your gaze is sharp and accusatory.

She lets her eyes fall down to her lap, picking at little buds of lint being exposed by the sun’s glow. “You’re right, something was off between us,” she says like it’s something in the past. Like maybe they’re good now, but at one time they weren’t. “But Art knows how I feel about him.” Then, her gaze returns to you. “Something tells me your husband either didn’t know or didn’t care.”

Her comment strikes a nerve. Chris did know something was off, and she was right, he didn’t care. He made you feel like needing more from him made you selfish. As if the reminder of the vows he made to you was an affront to him. He knew you were unhappy. That you felt ignored. But he didn’t care. When you’d served him the divorce papers, you naively thought that he’d realize what he might lose, that he might beg for your forgiveness, promise to be better. Instead, you watched him sign the document in the same way he’d signed receipts for dinner before closing the tab and tucking the pen inside. 

You think you envy her. Because she has a husband that actually doesn’t want to leave her. 

“Hey.” She grabs your attention. Her voice softens when she sees your glassy eyes peering back at her. “I’m not judging you. I’m just trying to offer an explanation.” 

You work to swallow down the onslaught of emotions threatening to rise up like bile. You release a fractured noise from your throat, letting the revelation fully soak in. “So you really knew this whole time then? Or rather you orchestrated it?” 

“Okay, that’s a little extreme,” she says. “When we found out you were getting divorced, I mentioned to Art that he should pursue you. That’s all.” She shrugs. “I never knew if he’d actually do it or when he’d do it. All I know is that the first night he came home smelling like you, he fucked me like he did when I first agreed to be his tennis coach.” 

“Then, he was constantly meeting up with you or staying to talk after PTA meetings,” her fingers curl to form quotations around the word, talk. “But I knew what was up.” She bites her lip. “It was honestly kind of hot.” 

You frown. The thought of him sleeping with her immediately after being with you has your stomach in knots. The worst part is that you can’t stop wondering if he’d showered first. If he’d cleaned himself up or if he’d went straight to her, buried himself inside her, cock still sticky with your fluids. In a way, it’s like you had also been inside her. If you think about it long enough, you can imagine what it must feel like. So, you don’t think about it. Instead, you fix your gaze on the golden pothos plant sitting on top a table to your right. The tapping of your nail against the ceramic mug fills the silence. 

She gives you a questioning look. 

Ignoring the implications of what she just told you, you settle for the anger you’re feeling instead of dwelling on any confusing arousal. “Do you not realize how fucked up this is, Tashi?”

“Excuse me?” 

“Yeah! It’s fucked!” You throw your hands up. “I mean I’ve been running around feeling guilty, thinking I was a fucking homewrecker while the two of you get off on a cheating kink!”

She can tell you have more to say, so she leans back and lets you go on.

“I mean how could you do that? I was fucking depressed.”

She snorts. “Not so depressed that it ruined your libido. You two have been going at it like rabbits.” Her smirk makes your cheeks burn. 

You place your mug down onto the table. “Wow. You know what?” You’re on the edge of the couch now, body rigid. “You and Art can go fuck yourselves! This is seriously messed up.”

She raises her eyebrows. “As messed up as you fucking another woman’s husband?” 

Her words drip with mirth, and it pisses you off that the fiery look in her eyes is poking at a budding desire in your belly. “This is ridiculous,” you mumble to yourself. You’d rather focus all your energy on being outraged than interrogate why this is kind of turning you on. You’re about to stand up to leave when she places a hand on your arm.

“Are you seriously mad right now?” She asks you. 

An incredulous look takes over your face. “What do you think?” You spit out.

“Well, would you have preferred I not know?” She asks as if you’re the crazy one here.

“I—“ you squeeze your eyes shut, and try to gather your thoughts. “Obviously not, Tashi.” You glance up to the glass paned ceiling. “I just—it would’ve been nice to know what was really going on. I mean he never even told me that you knew.”

“Well, did you ask?” She asks simply. 

Did you? You think back to the past couple of months. The more you and Art hooked up, the more you avoided directly mentioning Tashi. He didn’t bring her up more than what was necessary, so you suspected he was actively trying to keep it from her. 

To be fair, he did mention a couple of times that he’d told Tashi you two were going to meet up for lunch, but you thought he must’ve been leaving out the activities that followed. And if she happened to call him while the two of you were together, he would casually tell her he was with you. You obviously assumed he was downplaying your friendship because there was no way Art would be so nonchalant about a mistress. But, apparently, the word mistress didn’t even apply to you. 

“I mean, I guess I didn’t.” You stammer. “But I feel like that was on him to bring it up to me.”

“Well that’s where you went wrong. Art can get in his own way sometimes.” A pensive expression works it’s way onto her face. “Or maybe part of him did kind of get off on feeling like he was sneaking around.” The thought seems to bring a small smile to her face. 

It still doesn’t make sense to you. You try to tamper down the sinking feeling that you’ve been nothing more than a pawn. “I just don’t understand why you two couldn’t proposition me like a normal couple looking for a third,” you say.

“Who said you were our third?” 

“Oh, so there’s other women you’ve sent Art to fuck?”

“No. I—I don’t just pimp out my husband, okay?”

You back down.

“We already have a…third I guess.”

You look at her with furrowed brows. 

“Patrick.” She answers.

“Patrick? Like Patrick Patrick?”

She nods.

You laugh cynically. You didn’t think this situation could get any worse.

“I know.” She sighs. “I know how it seems—”

“Was that part of the plan too?” You’re out of breath, chest heaving. 

She looks genuinely confused. “What are you talking about?” 

“Me and Patrick,” you blurt. 

“Wait a minute, you’re sleeping with Patrick?” She’s scooting closer to you. 

You shake your head. “It just happened once.” You think of how he’d shoved your face into the rug, fucking into you as he grunted out various obscenities. “I was high. I haven’t spoken to him since.”

She looks away for a moment, brows drawn together tightly. She’s piecing together what you’ve told her. 

“I—I didn’t know he was with you guys,” you try. 

She waves you off. “No, it’s not that.” She sits back. “I’m just not surprised that he wormed his way into your pants. He just couldn’t take that Art had something to himself.” She’s speaking to you, but her eyes are trained ahead. 

“So, you really didn’t set that up too?” You ask meekly. 

“God, no!” She says. “I had no idea.” 

You believe her. 

“Look I don’t care what type of weird shit you tennis players are into, if you guys have wild orgies or whatever. I just would’ve liked to have known that I wasn’t a hypocrite.”

“A hypocrite?”

You nod. “I mean I sit here and give my ex shit for cheating on me with that skinny ass whore from Modesto. Hell! That’s why I got so much fucking alimony.” You’re rambling now. “And, then, I go and let Art fucking Donaldson screw me and then send him back home to play loving father and husband like it’s nothing. God! And on top of it all, I also sleep with his best friend! I became the whore from Modesto.” 

Tashi’s watching you like you’re a kid experiencing big feelings.

“I felt like a home wrecker.” You sniff. “But apparently I’m actually not…because it was your idea, well only Art, not Patrick, and I—it’s all just fucking with my head.”

Tashi swallows. “I honestly thought you’d be relieved to find out.”

She looks at the frown on your face, takes in the way your plump bottom lip is jutting out. She reaches for your hand. “We’ve never really been the best at communicating. Me and Art. For the past year or so, we’ve gotten better at talking to each other, being honest about what we want, but we’re still working on doing that with other people I guess.” You let her thumb rub the back of your hand before you gently pull away. 

You grab your mug again. The handle is cold to the touch. 

“I promise we didn’t mean to fuck with you. Honestly, I think Art really likes you.” She offers you a small smile.

You look into your mug trying to still your reaction. You don’t care. 

Tashi’s gaze feels heavy on the side of your face as you feel her watching your expression. You start to fiddle with your watch. Checking for the time. Except your watch is too busy displaying your increased heart rate to offer the time. 

You sigh. 

She reaches out to you again, but this time she brings her hand up to your face, moving the curls falling down over your eyes. You let her nimble fingers caress your cheekbone before trailing down to your chin, guiding you to look at her. 

She gives you a steady, knowing smile. “You fell for him didn’t you?” 

Your cheeks go ablaze, and you try to look away from her. 

“Hey.” She grasps your chin in a firm, but gentle hold. “It’s okay.” She nods as if it’ll telepathically make you agree. 

You clear your throat. “I know you say that, but this is all new to me.” Your voice is slightly wobbly and you think you might cry. “I—I didn’t think it’d happen but it did. I thought I could get him out of my system but now,” you inhale and press two fingers against your neck, subconsciously trying to self-soothe. “Now, it’s like—it’s like I can’t stop.” Your voice comes out almost like a whisper. Like you’re afraid to admit the truth. 

And, really, you are afraid. You’re fucking terrified. 

You’re scared to fall in love with a man who already has one—two people in his life that he’s in love with. The last time you entrusted a man with your love, he was only meant to love you, and he couldn’t even give you that. 

What if you realize you’re absolutely enamored by Art Donaldson and he realizes the same thing Chris did? That there’s something about you that makes you unworthy of love. That the depth of you is as deep as your cunt goes and that’s it. 

What if he realizes that he already has what he needs in Tashi, even Patrick? What if they realize they actually aren’t willing to share?

You apparently voice the last bit aloud.

Tashi tilts her head, some of her strands have fallen loose again and she wears the prettiest pout on her lips. “Do you want me to prove it to you?” 

You gulp when her hand presses into your thigh, and she brings her face impossibly close to yours, forcing you to hold her gaze. “You want me to prove that I’m okay with it?” Her eyes flit between each one of yours with a level of seriousness you’d expect from someone like her. 

Her expression demands an answer, and so, you give a faint nod, transfixed on the woman in front of you. 

You gasp when you feel her mouth on yours. 

You learn that Tashi tastes sweet when she has her tongue in your mouth. You think you can taste the tartness of the lemon she’d sucked on earlier. It’s good, and you realize you’re fucked because you really like kissing her. 

Her tongue twirling around yours has you panting quietly, and you keen when you feel her manicured nails press into the nape of your neck. You haven’t kissed a woman since your last girlfriend in college, and you find you miss it. Something about it feels like drinking sweet tea on a hot summer day. Climbing into cool sheets at night when you’re bone tired. Or the feeling you get when you discover the song that you’re going to replay for the next week. 

It also makes you feel absurdly wet. 

The two of you work up a rhythm of pulling away for a breath before coming back together like magnets, letting your foreheads gently press together as you breathe deeply, thumbs caressing skin, eyelids fluttering. 

Your tongue is sweeping across Tashi’s lip, on a path to enter her mouth again, when you hear someone clear their throat. 

There’s an audible smack as you yank yourself from Tashi, eyes flying to the doorway of their sunroom. 

Art is standing there staring at you, gaze shifting from your face to the hand you still have placed on his wife’s neck. His jaw is clenched, and his bulge is painfully evident in his pants. 

𝄃𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄀𝄁𝄃𝄂𝄂𝄃

a/n: I've been waiting for this since the first post. Let me know how you feel about the reveal <3 as always, my asks are open!

[clockwayswrites]

@hobiisthesunfiteme @flipwizardstarlight @miniosprey

Phantom + Young Justice, Head, Red cw: blood, canon typical violence

“Blue Beetle?”

“In one piece,” Blue answered as he helped Thirteen up off the ground.

“Same here,” she said once she was on her feet. “Barely.”

“Right.” Robin supported Spoiler a little more firmly. He knew she wouldn’t admit it right then but he’d put his money on broken ribs. “Impulse?”

“Here!” Impulse said, popping up next to the group. He was as bouncy as ever, but his smile looked more forced than not.

Robin made a mental note to check in on his friend later. Impulse didn’t suffer the same physical effects a lot of them did, but that didn’t mean he didn’t suffer in other ways. Robin set the thought aside and continued with the check in. “Phantom?”

Silence.

“Phantom?” Robin resisted the urge to curse. “Impulse—”

“On it,” Impulse said before dashing off.

The whole team had shaken off the aches and dust and looked ready to go again. One of theirs was down. One of theirs who should be as untouched by it all as Impulse.

“Blue, get in contact with the other squad. See if they’re wrapped up and get over here. Thirteen, I know that their weapons were magic adjacent, what are the chances they could have hurt Phantom?”

“You act like I know anything about what Phantom is. You know how tight lipped he is about his powers,” Thirteen snapped, but Robin knew it was because she was worried about their missing teammate. “But I’ll get to looking at one of their guns.”

“Good. I’ll—”

“Rob, Robin!” Impulse popped back up beside them. “It’s, he’s—just this way!”

They were off instantly after the speedster who kept dashing ahead of them and back again to make sure they were following. He also kept pulling out supplies from Robins utility belt. Robin didn’t stop him, of course he didn’t. Whatever Phantom needed.

When they crested the last pile of rubble and finally saw their fallen teammate on the ground in a pool of toxic green that Impulse was trying desperately to stem, Robin didn’t know if what they had was enough.

[lucyblue101]

You forgot to give him affection last night🥺

Satoru x reader

Context: you came home really tired the previous night and forgot to give him his affection he desperately needs

The morning light filtered through the curtains, and you woke up to find Satoru still sulking by the window. His back was turned to you, but you could see his shoulders hunched in that dramatic, almost theatrical way he sometimes did when he was feeling neglected.

"Satoru?" you called softly, rubbing your eyes as you tried to make sense of what was going on. "What’s wrong?"

He didn’t immediately respond, but you could hear him sigh in that exaggerated way he did when he was being overly dramatic. "Nothing. I’m just heartbroken, that’s all."

Your eyes widened in confusion as you sat up. "Heartbroken? What are you talking about?"

He slowly turned to look at you with those big blue eyes, a pout still firmly on his lips, but there was something almost pitiful in his gaze. "You didn’t kiss me last night. You didn’t cuddle me. You didn’t even touch me," he mumbled, voice heavy with exaggeration. "I felt completely neglected."

You blinked in disbelief. Satoru Gojo, the man who was constantly surrounded by people fawning over him, was upset about this? You couldn’t help but chuckle, even though you could see the genuine neediness behind his dramatic words.

"Satoru," you said with a soft smile, rolling over toward him. "I was just exhausted. I didn’t mean to make you feel that way."

He sighed again, clearly making a show of his "suffering." "I’ve been alone all night," he said with a shake of his head, eyes looking down dramatically. "I was waiting for you, but I got nothing. I’m just... crushed."

Your heart softened at the sight of him looking so... vulnerable. You couldn’t resist leaning in to press your lips to his forehead and then press a kiss to his lips, kissing him softly over and over. He starts to grin. “I’m so sorry, Satoru," you murmured, brushing your fingers through his white hair. "How about I make it up to you? You know, with morning cuddles?"

His eyes lit up at the suggestion, his pout softening, and he nodded eagerly. "Yes, please. I’ll never say no to cuddles."

Without a second thought, you scooted closer to him, wrapping your arms around his torso from behind, pulling him gently against you. You guided him so that his back was facing your chest, and you let out a contented sigh, relishing the feel of his warmth against you.

Satoru immediately melted into your embrace, letting out a relieved sigh as you buried your face in the back of his neck, pressing a kiss there. He placed his hands on top of yours, his fingers brushing softly over your arms as he snuggled even closer.

"Mmm," he hummed, his voice full of contentment. "This is better than anything. I feel so much better now."

You smiled, holding him tighter as you rubbed his chest gently. "You’re so dramatic," you teased affectionately, though you didn’t mind. "But I’m glad I can make you feel better."

He turned his head slightly, catching your lips with a soft kiss of his own. "Good," he said, finally relaxed in your arms. "Now, I think I deserve some belly rubs after everything you’ve put me through. You were so mean to me last night."

Your brow furrowed in playful confusion. "Mean? Satoru, I was exhausted! I didn’t even realize I didn’t—"

"I’m heartbroken," he interrupted, a teasing glint in his eye as he slid down just enough to expose his toned stomach, a dramatic pout still on his lips. "How could you not give me a single cuddle or touch? You’ve traumatized me, I think I deserve some compensation."

You laughed softly, giving him an exaggerated eye roll. "Oh, I’m sure you’re really traumatized, huh?" But you couldn’t resist, your fingers gently tracing circles on his stomach. He melted into the touch, his body relaxing completely.

"Mmmm, that’s better," he sighed contentedly, eyes fluttering closed. "See? I knew you’d make it better. So much better."

You smiled fondly, continuing to rub his stomach as he laid against you, completely relaxed now that he had his much-needed affection. "I’m sorry I was so mean, Satoru. Next time, I'll make sure to shower you with affection before bed, okay?"

"Good," he muttered, already half-asleep, his voice soft with satisfaction. "You owe me a lot, you know... But I’ll forgive you this time. Maybe."

You laughed, kissing the back of his neck once more. "I’ll make it up to you, I promise."

Satoru hummed contentedly in your arms, letting out a final, satisfied sigh. The drama had subsided, and you both settled into a peaceful cuddle, knowing full well that no matter how much of a baby he could be, you’d always give him exactly what he needed.

For a while, you both stayed like that, wrapped up in each other’s warmth. Satoru was completely at ease now, still laying in your arms like a cat basking in the sun, his body completely relaxed, save for the soft rise and fall of his chest. You traced lazy patterns on his skin, enjoying the quiet, intimate moment, content in the knowledge that you could make him feel safe, cared for, and adored, even with all his dramatics.

After a while, Satoru let out a contented yawn and nuzzled closer to you, his hands now playing with the hem of your shirt. "You know," he murmured sleepily, "I think we should do this every morning. You, me, cuddles, tummy rubs... maybe even some more kisses... All of it."

You chuckled softly, holding him even closer. "Sounds like a plan, Satoru. But only if you promise to stop being so dramatic."

He lifted his head from your chest, his eyes twinkling with mischief. "But that’s half the fun."

You couldn’t help but smile at his antics, knowing that this was exactly how you wanted to spend your mornings—with Satoru, wrapped up in each other’s arms, as if there was no place else in the world you’d rather be.

Tag list

@canigotosleep--plz

@haruhatake

@hargun-s

@mistymuii

@moonchhu

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Let me know what everyone thinks :)

[pedroscurls]

you put a spell on me (one-shot)

summary: hugh attends a masquerade-themed party and you capture his attention the moment you step into the building. pairing: hugh jackman x fem! reader content warnings: smut (18+, mdni), fingering, oral - m receiving, multiple orgasms (from reader), missionary (legs over hugh’s shoulders obvi), doggy style, cowgirl, light spanking, unprotected p in v sex (be safe folks!), creampie , no use of y/n. word count: 5.2k a/n: so after all the shit that’s happened in the last twenty four hours, I just needed to write something and Hugh’s most recent post is the inspiration of this story. song lyrics are in italics btw. hope you all enjoy! this is purely fictional! i mean no disrespect to hugh jackman. song: you put a spell on me by austin giorgio

A masquerade ball. 

Hugh was speaking with Ryan and Blake when someone caught the corner of his eye. Turning to look in your direction, he feels his breath catch in his throat at the sight of you descending the stairs to the main dance floor. 

Everyone else in this ballroom was either dressed in tones of black, white, and gold, but you… the color of your deep wine red dress adds just the right amount of color to this room. He can’t help but let his eyes take in your frame - the gown trails behind you so elegantly and serene as you walk, an a-line cut with a slit that reveals your leg, an empire waist that clings to every curve, and the slightly puffy sleeves of your dress makes you look so angelic. When you turn slightly, he takes note of the open back as well, biting his lower lip. 

There’s a familiarity to you, that maybe he’s seen you before, maybe even talked to you before too. Hugh watches your eyes sweep the area and when your eyes meet his, he lets the corner of his lips turn upwards and then he sees you bite your lower lip, returning his smile with one of your own. 

But you’re wearing a masquerade mask, just like he is, just like everyone else in this room is. He can’t tell if he knows you, can’t decide if he should just go up to you and strike up a conversation because if he could hear your voice, it’ll at least give him some idea of who you might be. 

Hugh has to peel his eyes away from you for a moment, turning his attention back to Ryan who’s staring at him with a big grin. 

“What?” Hugh asks, bringing a hand up to adjust the mask on his face. 

“You gonna talk to her?” 

“I don’t know her,” Hugh admits. “Or at least I don’t think I do.” 

“Well, go and find out.” Blake says with a smile, gently nudging him with her arm. 

“Yeah?” Hugh asks. “You think it won’t be awkward?” 

“Well, what was awkward was watching you stare at her like you wanted something, if you get what I mean,” Ryan teases. 

Hugh rolls his eyes and lets out a quiet chuckle. He runs a hand through his hair and then straightens out his bow tie as he nods at Ryan and Blake before he leaves the table in search of you. 

Hugh scans the entire room, trying to catch a glimpse of your red dress in the sea of black, white and gold, but he can’t seem to find you. He places his hands in his pockets as he continues to walk casually throughout the room, stopping every now and then to talk with someone he knows. Even in the midst of the conversations, Hugh’s eyes still search for you. 

Just one glimpse, he tells himself. Hugh just needs to see the color of your dress and then he’ll be able to get to you. 

He excuses himself from another conversation and then decides to walk towards the bar. Hugh sighs to himself, not having found you since you first stepped into the building. He takes the champagne glass from the bartender and then turns his gaze back to the entire room. Very briefly, does he see a glimpse of your smile. His eyes move lower and notices the color of your dress. 

It’s you, finally. 

Taking a deep breath, Hugh takes another glass of champagne and walks in your direction. It takes less than ten seconds to get to you, the person you had been talking to leaving you alone conveniently as he moves to stand next to you. 

“Refill?” Hugh asks quietly, handing you the glass of champagne. 

You smile up at him and Hugh feels his heart race even faster. You don’t say anything, instead you just give him a thankful nod and take the glass of champagne from him, your fingers brushing against his. 

“I’m Hugh,” he says with a small smile. 

“I know,” you finally tell him. 

Your voice is quiet and he can’t tell if he’s heard it before, so he leans in closer. Hugh can hear your breath hitch and it gives him just the right amount of confidence to ask you a question. 

“And you? What’s your name?” 

You lift the glass of champagne to your lips and take a small sip. “Well, what’s the fun in that if I just tell you,” you tease, whispering quietly. 

Hugh smiles and pulls back to look down at you. All of a sudden, no one else in this room matters but you. Everyone fades into the background and all he can see is you. 

“Okay,” he chuckles. “Well, do we know each other? Have we met before?” 

“We’ve met before, yes.” 

Hugh bites the inside of his cheek but he can’t focus. He just wants to reach out and slowly lift the mask from your eyes so he can get a clear view of who you are. 

“Have we worked together?” Hugh asks. 

“I think I should be offended that you can’t tell who I am,” you laugh quietly. 

Your laugh. The way your smile lights up your entire face. There’s that sense of familiarity all over again and it’s a fleeting moment where he suddenly realizes where he knows you from. The after party for Deadpool & Wolverine. He remembered leaving that night with a huge smile on his face after spending the entire night talking with you. 

That was months ago and while you two have had brief conversations between then and now through social media, neither of you ever tried to pursue each other. Though, there was an obvious attraction, an obvious pull that you felt towards one another. 

Hugh doesn’t ask anymore questions about you, but instead he watches you finish your glass of champagne. He smiles to himself and finishes his own glass before he takes yours and sets both glasses down on a nearby table. 

“Would you like to dance?” Hugh asks, large hand extending out for you. 

Gently, you place your hand in his and nod, stepping closer to him. “I thought you’d never ask.” 

Hugh smiles to himself and leads you to the dance floor, his free hand moving to rest on your lower back. He feels your other hand come to rest on his shoulder as he’s careful not to step on the ends of your dress. Even under the shadows of the dance floor, Hugh can see you so clearly. 

you put a spell on me

I’m losing my mind 

As the song begins, Hugh sways with you, hand splaying on your lower back as he feels your skin underneath his fingertips. He bites his lower lip, staring into your eyes through his own mask. He feels a bit at ease with the mask, like everyone else in the room won’t be focusing on the two of you and how you’re both becoming increasingly closer. 

you better stop things 

it’s a matter of time 

You can feel his fingertips run lightly along your back as his eyes remain locked on yours. Since meeting him, Hugh had occupied your thoughts and the brief conversations you had with him always left you yearning for more. It was easy to talk to him; it felt so natural and he always made you laugh. 

Hugh pulls you flush against him, your body pressing firmly against his as the song continues. 

before I hunt you down 

grab your chin

and kiss your lips 

Your eyes move to his lips, biting down on your lower lip in anticipation. The tension between the both of you thickens and your hand on his shoulder moves to rest on his chest, the muscle beneath the fabric of his shirt tensing and flexing at your touch. 

you bring me back

I lay you down 

and grab your hips 

Hugh then drops your hand and moves both of his own to rest on your hips, gripping them tightly as he lowers his head to press his forehead lightly against yours. Quietly, almost above a whisper, Hugh finally says your name with a cheeky grin on his lips. 

“Y–You figured it out,” you say. 

“Knew it the minute you smiled at me,” Hugh replies. 

As you continue to sway on the dance floor with him, your own hands move to wrap around his neck, linking your fingers together to rest at the nape of his neck. 

I put a spell on you 

and now you’re mine 

I’ve got a hold on you 

at least for the night 

“Do you wanna get out of here?” You ask him hesitantly, looking into his eyes hopefully. 

Hugh nods instantly. “Yes,” he answers. 

—

When you finally get to his penthouse, you walk inside and look around, still wearing your mask. You gasp quietly when you feel his strong hands on your hips, turning you around to face him. He slowly lifts his mask off and away from his face, his hazel eyes now glimmering with excitement. 

He’s so handsome, so beautiful and breathtaking. Hugh then reaches up to slowly lift the mask away from your face, eyes gazing directly into your own once he removes it completely. He feels his heart race faster again at the sight of you. 

“Beautiful,” he whispers. 

“Hugh?” You ask, hand coming up to gently run along the lapel of his white suit jacket. 

“Yes, love?” 

“Kiss me, please.” 

Hugh nods and then leans in to press his lips firmly against your own. His hand moved to cup your cheek, fingers splaying against the side of your neck. Your own hands move to the lapels of his white suit jacket, gripping it lightly as you begin to move your lips with his own. You’ve imagined this so many times, but you never thought that it would feel this perfect. 

His free hand moves to rest on your hip, rubbing his thumb against the fabric of your dress. Hugh darts his tongue out to tease your lips and when you let out a gasp, his tongue slides in your mouth to meet your own. The grip around his jacket tightens further and you feel a familiar throbbing between your legs, your wetness now staining the panties you have on. 

Hugh pulls away from the kiss momentarily to look down at you. You’ve occupied his mind since meeting you and the brief conversations you did share has always left him wondering if this could be more. He didn’t want to push this, push you, into something that wouldn’t become anything but the moment he knew it was you, Hugh realized he wanted you. Bad. 

He’s staring into your eyes, searching for any doubt in your features. Hugh drops his hand to rest on the side of your neck, thumb now brushing against your collarbone. “Tell me…” he sighs. “Tell me I’m not the only one that feels something here.” 

“You’re not,” you admit. “I’ve been– Since the night of the party, I kind of expected you to ask me out or…” you feel the heat in your cheeks rise and you bite your lower lip. “I thought maybe I had just imagined it.”

The hand on your hip moves to your back, fingertips grazing your skin as he dips it lower and lower beneath the fabric of your dress. “I didn’t want to scare you away,” he confesses. 

“I don’t think you ever could.” You move your hands up his chest and slowly undo his bow tie, biting your lower lip in anticipation. 

“And if we do this?” Hugh asks, hopefully. 

“Well, if we do this,” you say quietly, your fingers slowly beginning to unbutton his shirt. “It’s not going to be just a one time thing… but if you want it to be a one time thing, then we should probably establish–”

Hugh shakes his head and interjects, “it’s not going to be a one time thing.” 

You smile up at him, your fingertips grazing the exposed skin on his chest as you continue to unbutton his shirt. “Good. Take me to your room?”

“Yes,” Hugh breathes out. He steps back and away from you, taking your hand in his and leading you to his main bedroom upstairs. You don’t even have time to look around, to get acquainted with his personal space that he allowed you to get a glimpse of because the moment you step inside, Hugh gently sets you on the edge of his large mattress. 

You watch him get rid of his bow tie and white jacket, discarding it on the floor. You’re about to reach down to remove your heels, but Hugh drops to his knees in front of you, taking one foot to slide the heel off. You clear your throat, hands resting on the edges of the mattress as Hugh proceeds to your other foot to remove your heel. Slowly, he lifts the ends of your dress to reveal more of your legs, his fingertips hovering lightly over you.

Once your dress bunches up at the waist and he gets a clear view of your matching red lace thong, he has to reach down to squeeze his throbbing erection. Hugh leans in and presses soft kisses on your inner thigh, the stubble of his beard and his sideburns grazing your skin and causing a shiver to run through your body. 

Hugh stares up at you, eyes silently asking for permission. When he sees you nod, Hugh moves further between your legs, his nose brushing against your clothed sex. It causes a gasp to escape your lips, eyes falling shut as nudges you with the bridge of his nose. 

“Hugh,” you whimper. “Please, baby…”

Hugh smirks and pulls away to look up at you. He stands up – albeit with protest from you – and takes your hand. Once you’re standing in front of him, he reaches for the zipper on the side of your dress and lowers it until the dress becomes loose around your frame. He feels your hands come back up to finish the job of unbuttoning his shirt and once it’s fully unbuttoned, you push it off his shoulders and the shirt drops to the floor. He’s now completely shirtless and your eyes deviate to his strong and chiseled chest. You lean in and gently nip along his collarbone, hands coming up to graze his abdomen and up his chest. 

Hugh lets out a quiet moan at your touch. Slowly, he takes your hands and presses a soft kiss on your knuckles before he reaches out to pull down your dress. Once it pools around your ankles, he feels his breath catch in his throat yet again. You’re standing in front of him in a deep red lace bra and matching thong set. 

“You’re breathtaking,” he compliments. “Fuck,” he adds. 

Hugh has always looked at you like the most beautiful woman he’s ever seen, has always given you his undivided attention, and right now is no different. You’d usually be very conscious about your body, about how you look, but the way he’s looking at you makes you feel very confident and secure in your skin. 

“I think it’s only fair we take these off, huh?” You say, hands moving to the waistband of his pants. You can see his obvious bulge from beneath his slacks, can see the outline of him and you feel only slightly nervous because he looks big. At least, bigger than you’ve ever had before. 

Hugh nods and then undoes his pants, quickly stepping out of them as he kicks his shoes off. He’s wearing black boxer briefs and you slowly reach out to rest your palm over him, his girth and size not a match for your hand. You’re tugging on his boxers, tugging on the fabric to pull it away from him, but Hugh shakes his head and wraps his arms around your waist instead. 

“Gotta see you first, baby,” he whispers, lips grazing your jawline. Then, Hugh sets you on the middle of his bed, biting his lower lip at the sight of you all splayed out for him. He quickly moves to settle himself between your legs, making sure to press himself against you. When he feels you roll your hips, Hugh lets out a groan. 

Hugh reaches around you and unclasps your bra, pulling it slowly away from your body. He tosses it over his shoulder, eyes moving to your now exposed breasts and he pushes further into you. He hooks his fingers under the waistband of your thong, pulling it down your legs. “Gonna keep these,” he growls, bringing the fabric up to his nose and inhales your scent. 

You bite your lower lip and nod up at him, watching him set your panties on his nightstand. When you look back up at him, Hugh’s eyes scan every inch of your naked frame, almost like he’s committing it to memory. When he presses his clothed length against you, he feels your wetness stain the fabric of his briefs. 

Hugh slowly lowers himself further to press light kisses on your collarbone, lips moving further and further until he wraps his lips around your nipple. He groans to himself and uses his free hand to begin kneading your unattended breast. Hugh feels your hips continue to roll upwards into him and he’s throbbing so painfully beneath the fabric of his boxer briefs. He pulls back, flicking his tongue against your nipple before he moves to give the same attention to your other breast. 

“Oh god,” you whimper. Hugh smiles to himself and moves a hand between your legs, a finger slowly grazing your exposed sex. You’re already so wet, juices building and trickling down to his sheets. He slides the tip of his finger into your heat, growling against you as he feels your walls tighten around him, sucking him in. 

He slides his finger further into your heat, pulling away from your breast to look up at you. Hugh rests his forehead against your temple, whispering lowly in your ear. “You’re so wet, baby…” he smirks, nibbling at your earlobe as he begins to pump his finger in and out of your depths. 

Your hands move to his shoulders, gripping it tightly as your walls begin to tremble. When Hugh pushes another digit into you, your back arches and your fingernails dig into his skin. “Hugh!” You moan loudly, your head tossing back slightly against the mattress as you feel your walls begin to clench around his digits, your orgasm approaching faster than what you’re used to. 

Hugh grins to himself and quickens his pace. He can feel your juices around his fingers, can hear the squelching sounds of his fingers pumping into your wet heat. After a few more pumps, Hugh presses his fingers fully into, palm firmly against your bundle of nerves. 

“Come for me,” he growls into your ear. 

And on command, your walls clench further around him and a loud moan escapes your lips. You roll your hips against his hand, his palm providing the right amount of friction against your clit. When you slowly come down from your high, Hugh then pulls his hand away from you. He sees your arousal coat his fingers and he grins, bringing it to his lips and sucking them off his fingers. His eyes flutter at your taste and he leans back against his knees. 

“God, you taste good.” Hugh’s about to lower himself to get a taste of you directly through the source, but his eyes slightly widen when you sit up and gently push him onto his back. “Baby,” he says softly, seeing the dark gaze in your eyes. Hugh feels your hands tug down his briefs, his erected manhood now resting against his lower abdomen. 

“You made me come,” you tell him, licking your lower lip. “Already,” you continue. 

“Oh, you’re gonna come a few more times tonight before I’m done with you,” Hugh grins proudly. 

You don’t answer. Instead, you lie on your abdomen and grasp the base of length, wasting no time in wrapping your lips around his tip. Hugh lets out a loud groan in surprise, hand coming down to tangle itself in your hair. You whimper at the taste of him, at his girth stretching your mouth. He lifts his head slightly off the bed to look down at you, groaning at the sight of you. You smile at him – fucking smile with his cock in your mouth and it makes him go wild. Hugh rests his head back against the mattress, eyes fully shut tight when he feels you lower your mouth further onto him. 

Your hand strokes what your mouth can’t take and he knows that he can’t fucking come right now, knows that he doesn’t want to come in your mouth when he hasn’t even felt how you would feel wrapped around him. 

“Baby, baby, fuck,” he groans, gently pulling you away from his length. Hugh looks down at himself, seeing your saliva coating half of his size and when he looks up at you, you’re fucking smiling again. He rolls you onto your back and settles himself between your legs, grasping his base and running his tip along your throbbing sex. “As much as I loved the sight of you with my cock in your mouth,” he growls, eyes staring deeply into yours. “I still need to feel you.” 

Then, Hugh pushes his tip into you. He groans to himself, pushing his hips into you as he slides into your tight walls inch by inch. You’re so wet, so warm, so fucking tight. He rests his forearms at either side of your head, gently stroking your hair back and away from your face. He stares into your eyes, rolling his hips into you until he fills you to the hilt. 

“You feel good, baby,” Hugh whispers, lips brushing against yours. He feels your legs wrap around his waist, whimpering quietly as your eyes flutter when he pulls out to his tip only to thrust back into you slowly. “It’s taking a lot of restraint in me to not just…” he slams into you roughly, causing a loud moan to leave your lips. “Fuck.” 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, moving your lips to his jawline and neck. “Fuck me, Hugh… I can take it. I promise.” 

Like a switch turned on, Hugh pulls back and sits back on his knees. He brings your legs to drape over his strong shoulders as he slides back into you. He turns his head and kisses the inside of your calf gently, softly, as he delivers a sharp thrust into you. 

Hugh’s thrusts don’t falter, his skin slaps against yours as he picks up the pace. When he leans forward, your legs still over his shoulders, you feel him slide further into your depths. He rests his hands on the mattress, using it to ground him as he feels your walls slide along his throbbing length, gripping him so tight. 

You can feel the tightness begin to build, your walls beginning to clench once more as your orgasm looms closer and closer. You reach out to rest your hands on his chest, feeling like you can’t handle anymore. Your body is overly sensitive and with each drag of his hips, with each push he thrusts into you, is enough for your walls to tighten even further around his length. 

“Oh god,” you moan aloud. “Hugh!” 

Hugh groans at the sight of you, at the feel of your walls clenching and trembling around him. He slows his thrusts for a moment, placing your legs back to your side as he stares down at you. “That’s two,” he grins proudly. Hugh pulls out completely, looking down at his length to see it slick with your arousal. 

“It’s not a game,” you pant, moving to sit up with your legs still spread wide for him. 

Hugh smirks, reaching down and stroking himself slowly as his eyes take in your entire frame. He’s surprised that he’s held out this long, driven by his desire to get you to come at least one more time before he does. 

“Really? Because I’m kind of enjoying myself, baby.” 

You narrow your eyes and then slowly roll yourself into your abdomen. You bury your face against the softness of his pillow as you bring the sheet to cover your lower half. “Good, well I’m gonna get some sleep. You can fix that little problem yourself.” You bite your lower lip, knowing that Hugh’s not going to like that. When you look over your shoulder at him, you can see his lower lip between his teeth and he tugs the sheet down and away from your body. 

“Oh, we wanna be a tease, huh?” Hugh straddles your hips, caging you in as he brings his hand lightly down your ass. The sound of his palm connecting with your backside echoes throughout his room. You gasp loudly, fully surprised that you actually like it. “We like that, do we?” Hugh smirks and then spanks you once more, feeling you wiggle back into him. “Oh, baby, you’re naughty.” 

Then, he slides into you fully, this new position making you feel even tighter around him. You reach back, trying to push him away – your walls so sensitive with two orgasms already. Hugh clicks his tongue and grabs your hands and places them above your head, gripping your wrists firmly. He rolls his hips into you, eyes fluttering at the feel of you around him. 

“Hugh, baby, please–”

Hugh interrupts you with a harsh thrust, resting his chest firmly against your back as he whispers into your ear. “Tell me how it feels, love,” he pants, a groan leaving his lips. 

“Feels good,” you whimper, pushing back against him. “You’re so–” your breath catches in your throat when he pushes all the way into you, filling you so fully and deeply. He’s crowding your space, holding your wrists down, the weight of his body weight firmly pressing against yours, and his tip kissing your most inner parts… it’s enough for you to reach yet another orgasm. 

“Fuck, Hugh!”

Hugh releases your wrists to grab your hips and pull out of you abruptly. He turns you over and leans down to lap at your juices, eyes fluttering at your taste as his tongue helps you ride out your climax. Your hand immediately moves to his hair – what was once neatly done for tonight’s event now is a complete mess as you tug and pull. 

Hugh brings a hand to press his thumb firmly against your clit, feeling your entire body tremble and shake against him. 

“Hugh!” you moan loudly, back arching. You’re truly spent and he’s still so fucking hard for you. When he pulls away, he licks his lips and gently slaps your already-sensitive pussy, which causes a gasp to escape your lips. You’re breathing so heavily, chest raising as you stare at him with a dazed look on your face. 

“Three?” He smirks. 

“How are you still…” you bite your lip and see him move to lie down next to you, his hand dropping down to slowly begin to stroke himself. “Don’t you want to come?” 

Hugh growls lowly, eyes looking at you from top to bottom. “I do,” he answers. “But seeing you come is just as good.” 

You take a few deep breaths and then slowly move to straddle his waist. You take hold of his base, holding it firm in your hand. You keep your eyes locked on his and slowly lower yourself onto him, feeling his girth stretch you out once more. You know you won’t be able to last long, your entire body already on overdrive. When you slowly begin to lower yourself onto him, inch by inch, it surprises you at how deep he feels in this position. Your walls slide down each inch of his length and when you lower yourself completely, until you’re sitting firmly on his lap, your hands move to rest on his chest.

“So deep,” you whisper, slowly rolling your hips forward and backwards, the hair at his base providing just the right amount of friction against your clit. “Now, it’s your turn to come– Hugh!” 

He delivers a sharp thrust upwards, hands moving to grip your hips tightly and his fingertips dig into your flesh. Hugh licks his lower lip, staring up at you as you try your best to hold out another orgasm just so he can come. It’s cute, very considerate, but he needs one more out of you. Hugh isn’t usually like this, but there’s something about you that brings out this feral animal in him. 

One hand moves to grasp your breast, massaging and kneading it into his palm as his other keeps a tight hold on your hip. Hugh lets out a loud moan when he feels you begin to bounce along his length – all the way to his tip and back down completely. He’s close, he’s surprised he’s even held out this long with coming, but he knows he’s close and he can’t hold it anymore. 

“Baby–” Hugh groans, thumb brushing against your nipple as he sits up and wraps his arms around your waist. You continue to move along his length, your own hands moving to rest on his shoulders. In the time that he’s known you, you’ve always been so determined, especially when you put your mind on something and right now is no different. 

He feels you lean in to press your lips against his own. It’s a messy kiss, but fueled with so much passion, so much intensity. Hugh feels the tightness build and build in the pit of his stomach as his hands hold you firmly still, his hips stuttering upwards into you at an erratic pace. 

“Oh god,” he groans, pulling away from the kiss to bury his face against the side of your neck. Slowly, he feels your hips roll forwards and backwards, causing a shiver to run through his body. Hugh pulls back enough to look up at you and he sees that same fucking grin on your face. With an arm wrapped around your waist, he rolls you onto your back and slowly pulls out of you, seeing his release trickle out of you. 

He’s about to say something, but you interrupt him by reaching down to scoop some of his release onto your finger and lift it to your lips. Without hesitation, you suck the remnants of his release off your fingertip and maintain eye contact. 

“Minx,” he groans. 

You smile and lean up to kiss his cheek, resting your head against his shoulder. “I don’t think I’ll be able to walk for the next few days,” you giggle. “I can’t believe you made me come three times.”

“Let’s aim for four next time,” Hugh grins.

“I don’t know if I can do four…” you laugh. 

“Oh, baby, I believe in you,” he winks and moves to hover above you again. Hugh’s hand comes up to rest on your cheek, thumb brushing against your skin lightly. “But before we do that, can I take you out on a real date?”

You nod and turn your head slightly to kiss the inside of his wrist. “Yes, Hugh.”

Hugh grins and then leans down to capture your lips in a slow, passionate kiss.

---

forever taglist: @haytchee @wolverigrl

[rootedinrevisions]

Rooster Comes Home to His Girls

SUMMARY: There are not a ton of plot points, just Husband and Dad Bradley coming home to his girls.

WORD COUNT: 1.4k

WARNINGS: None (Pure fluff on this one)

TAG LIST: IN COMMENTS

A/N: I need something fluffy in my life and saw this picture on Pinterest and the idea just kind of flowed from there. Between everything going on in the country today and the stuff that's been going on in my personal life the past six months or so, I needed some pure, sickeningly sweet fluff. So here it is! Hope you enjoy!

The quiet hum of the baby monitor filled the kitchen as you stood at the sink, rinsing out a bottle. The rhythmic motion had become almost meditative over the past few weeks, a small way to keep yourself grounded while you waited for Bradley to come home. It had been a long deployment, and the days had felt heavier as they passed, each one marked by the absence of his presence, his laugh, his steady, calming voice. Now, he was finally on his way back, and your heart beat faster with every small sound outside, every imagined footstep near the door.

Suddenly, the soft creak of the front door reached your ears, and you froze, breath catching in your throat. You turned just in time to see him step into the house, his duffel bag dropping to the floor as his eyes found yours. For a moment, the world seemed to stop. He looked a little worn, a little tired, but his eyes shone with the same warmth, the same love, that had carried you through his absence. And just like that, the weight you’d been carrying slipped away.

You barely noticed dropping the kitchen towel as you moved toward him, your feet quickening until you were close enough to feel the warmth of him, smell the familiar, comforting scent of his cologne, and the hint of jet fuel that clung to his clothes.

Bradley pulled you into his arms with a gentle strength, as though he was afraid you might break, his hands settling firmly against your back as he held you close.

“I missed you so much,” he murmured, voice rough with emotion as he buried his face in your hair.

His embrace felt like home, solid and sure, grounding you after weeks of doing everything alone. You leaned into him, closing your eyes as his hand gently cradled the back of your head, holding you close, as if he never wanted to let go.

“I missed you too,” you whispered, feeling tears well up as you clutched him tighter, the reality of having him here again making your heart ache in the best way.

You pulled back just enough to look up at him, letting your eyes drink in every detail of his face—the familiar curve of his jaw, the warmth in his gaze, the slight shadow of exhaustion under his eyes.

And then, without a word, he leaned down, capturing your lips in a kiss that was soft, tender, and filled with all the words he hadn’t been able to say. You kissed him back, pouring all your relief, your longing, and your love into that moment. His hand came up to cup your cheek, his thumb gently brushing away a stray tear as he deepened the kiss, as if he needed to reassure himself that you were really here, that he was really home.

But then, the soft crackle of the baby monitor brought you both back, followed by a familiar whimper, a little cry that quickly turned into a wail. You sighed, feeling the exhaustion return as your mind shifted back to reality. You started to pull away, ready to go to her, but Bradley stopped you, his hand gently catching yours.

“Hey,” he murmured, giving you a soft smile as he looked toward the monitor, where your daughter’s cries continued. “I’ve got it. Let me take care of her.”

You hesitated, feeling the instinct to take over, to keep doing what you’d been doing alone for so long. “Are you sure? I don’t mind—”

But Bradley shook his head, his expression gentle but firm. “You’ve been doing this on your own for weeks. Let me be the dad for a while,” he said softly, his eyes filled with a tenderness that made your heart swell. “You look tired, sweetheart.”

You let out a breath, feeling the truth of those words hit you. “It’s been… a lot, but it’s okay. It’s what I signed up for.”

He gave a small shake of his head, his expression softening into something even more tender. “No, it’s not okay for you to do this alone. Go, relax. Take a bath, take the whole night off. I’ve got her.”

You felt the last bit of tension in your shoulders finally start to ease, the exhaustion you’d been holding back settling over you. You nodded, giving him a grateful smile as you whispered, “Thank you, Bradley.”

He gave your hand a reassuring squeeze before he let go, watching you with that same soft smile as you stepped back, finally allowing yourself to let him take over.

You paused at the doorway, glancing back as he turned and headed down the hall toward the nursery, his broad shoulders silhouetted in the soft glow of the nightlight spilling from your daughter’s room.

You took a deep breath, letting yourself sink into the silence, the weight lifting as you headed to the bathroom. It was strange, letting go of the constant watchfulness, but you trusted him completely. He was here now, and that was all that mattered.

In the bathroom, you ran a warm bath, sinking into the soothing water as the tension slowly faded away. For the first time in weeks, you allowed yourself to truly relax, closing your eyes and letting the warmth envelop you. You didn’t have to be on alert, didn’t have to listen for every small sound—Bradley was here, and he had everything under control.

After a while, you slipped into your pajamas, feeling more refreshed than you had in ages. You padded quietly down the hall, and as you passed the nursery you heard your daughter’s laughter  filling the air.

Quietly, you made your way to the doorway and peeked inside, stopping when you saw Bradley kneeling beside her crib. He had a teddy bear in his hand, making playful growling noises as he wiggled it toward her, his eyes bright with joy. Each time the bear touched her belly, she erupted into giggles, her little hands reaching out to grab it.

You leaned against the doorframe, smiling as you watched them. Bradley’s face softened as he looked at her, all the strength and resolve he usually wore dissolving into pure love. He was so gentle with her, the way he brushed a strand of hair from her face, the way he whispered silly little things to make her laugh as if he was trying to make up for every minute he’d missed while he was away.

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, but you didn’t wipe it away. Moments like this remind you why you fell in love with him in the first place.

Even after everything, the deployments, the late nights, the lonely stretches—you knew he was worth it.

You then watched as he picked her up, bringing her into his arms in a cradling position. He began to sway gently as he whispered to her, his voice a low, soothing murmur. She reached out and curled her little fingers around his thumb, her big, sleepy eyes fixed on him as though she was entranced.

You leaned against the doorway, watching the two of them, your heart full as you took in the sight of your husband cradling his little girl, his own eyes filled with pure love.

“Daddy’s home. I’m so sorry I was gone for so long, but I’m here now. I’m not going anywhere.” He whispered, his voice thick with emotion.

Your daughter blinked up at him, her little hand reaching up to touch his face, her tiny fingers brushing against his cheek. He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead, a tear slipping down his cheek as he held her close.

You felt your own eyes misting as you watched him with her, the quiet love and devotion in his expression a balm to your soul. He looked over, noticing you in the doorway, and gave you a small, tender smile.

“Caught me,” he said softly, a touch of playful warmth in his voice.

You walked over, wrapping your arms around him as he shifted slightly, making room for you to lean in, resting your head against his shoulder as you looked down at your daughter. “I love seeing this side of you,” you whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder.

“She’s grown so much,” he murmured, looking over at you with a mixture of pride and sorrow. “I feel like I missed so much.”

You shook your head, stepping closer, resting a hand on his arm. “She’s been waiting for you, Bradley. We both have.”

“I’m here now.” He reached up, his hand covering yours, a silent promise in his touch. The three of you stood there in the soft glow of the nursery, wrapped in a moment of love, peace, and quiet joy—a moment you knew you’d hold close to your heart, long after he had to leave again.

For now, though, he was here, and everything was just as it should be.

[creamflix]

gojo satoru x female reader; 18+ content, minors or ageless blogs do not interact. established relationship, you two match each other's freak. reader & gojo give heavy switch energy. use of onahole, m. masturbation. thigh riding. so much of dirty taalk. 69 >_<. oral (f. & m. recieving, seperate). overstimulation. handjob w/ onahole. continuation of this drabble ૮꒰⸝⸝> ̫ <⸝⸝꒱ა — masterlist here ☆

the days felt longer without him.

every day, the calls lit up your phone like clockwork; sometimes brief, sometimes winding well into the night until the two of you couldn’t keep your eyes open.

but even with those late-night conversations, you could hear it — the subtle longing in his voice, the way he’d go quiet after you told him you’d be busy the next day. you could practically hear him pout when you’d mention you had to go.

day one

"hey, hey, babe," he murmured over the phone, his voice low and gravelly as if he’d just woken up from a nap. "how was work? and don’t just say ‘fine.’ i want details."

you laughed, sinking into your pillow. "fine" was exactly what you were going to say, but with him, that never flew.

"i spent most of the day in meetings, missed lunch, and i think i’m gonna start seeing spreadsheets in my sleep."

“poor baby,” he teased, though his voice softened. "need me to come down there and save you from the horrors of corporate life?"

you smiled. “tempting offer, but you’d probably distract me too much.”

a low hum of amusement escaped him. "good. that’s what i’m here for."

day four

“are you eating enough?” he asked, almost sternly.

“yes, toru,” you reassured, even though today’s lunch had been a stale sandwich grabbed between meetings.

it was one of those nights when he was missing you a little harder than usual, and it showed in the way he couldn’t go two minutes without hearing you say something.

"liar," he laughed, though there was a hint of worry behind it. "come back home, and i’ll make you something edible, yeah? you don’t need to be a starving martyr for your job, y’know.”

“okay, okay, you’re probably right,” you said, biting back a grin. “i’ll let you take care of me. i miss that.”

the silence that followed was heavy, and you could almost picture his hand running through his hair, his gaze distant. “miss you, too. a lot.”

those words stayed with you, keeping you grounded as the days dragged on, until you finally decided to surprise him by coming back a day early. the craving for his warmth, his touch — it gnawed at you, a need left unfulfilled for too long. the longing was more than physical, though that was undeniably part of it.

he left a satoru-sized hole in your life, in every way.

as you stepped into the apartment, trying to keep quiet so you could catch him off guard, a faint sound drew you down the hall. the door to the bedroom was cracked open, and curiosity got the better of you. when you peeked inside, your eyebrows shot up at the sight that greeted you.

there was satoru, sprawled on the bed, looking every bit as gorgeous as ever —though, the onahole in his hand and the flushed, slightly desperate look on his face were not what you’d expected.

“well,” you drawled, crossing your arms as you leaned against the doorframe, a smirk tugging at your lips. “i go away for a little while, and this is what i come back to?”

his eyes snapped open, pure shock flashing across his face as he hastily sat up, cheeks pink. “w-wait! you’re —” he fumbled for words, his usual cocky attitude momentarily replaced by genuine surprise. “what are you doing here? you weren’t supposed to be back until tomorrow!”

“i wanted to surprise you,” you teased, stepping inside and closing the door behind you. “looks like i wasn’t the only one missing someone, huh?”

his mouth opened and closed, and then he scoffed, trying to regain his composure. “oh, please. as if i was just sitting around here pining away,” he huffed, though his expression betrayed him. "just... y'know, needed a little stress relief."

"mhmm, sure," you laughed, walking closer. “well, by all means, don’t let me stop you. though, i have to say, this isn’t quite the 'stress relief' i was hoping for when i came home early.”

satoru’s eyes trailed over you, a mischievous gleam returning. "oh? and what were you hoping for, then?"

“someone who didn’t need a toy when the real thing's right here,” you whispered, reaching out to trace a finger along his jaw.

he grinned, finally dropping the onahole and leaning back on his elbows, looking you up and down with an exaggerated sigh. "guess i’ve been missing you more than i wanted to admit." he tilted his head, studying you as he spoke, a playful glint in his eyes.

"so, you were so eager you couldn’t wait even one more day?"

“exactly. but i didn’t expect to come back and find you so… needy,” you shot back, nudging his knee with your hand. “is this what happens when i leave for work?”

he let out a low laugh, catching your hand and tugging you forward until you straddled his lap. “when you leave for too long, babe. you know i’ve got a high tolerance, but i’m not superhuman.”

his hand slipped under your shirt, fingers tracing along your spine, and you felt a familiar warmth pool low in your belly. "let me make it up to you, then,” you whispered, leaning in close enough that your noses brushed. “since i left you all alone, poor thing.”

“you’re too kind,” he muttered, his voice a mixture of sarcasm and something darker. then his grip tightened, his other hand sliding up to hold your waist firmly in place. "but you know, i don’t just want ‘kind’ right now. i want everything you’ve been holding out on me."

“oh, trust me,” you murmured, brushing your lips over his in a whisper of a kiss. “you’re going to get everything and more.”

“good.” his hands slid down to your hips, guiding you as he pulled you against him, his breath hot against your ear. “just don’t expect to leave anytime soon.”

gojo’s lips curled into a smirk as an idea danced behind his eyes, his gaze flicking between you and the discarded onahole. “y'know,” he drawled, a wicked gleam taking over his face, “since you couldn’t resist coming home early and lying about it… maybe i should give you a little punishment.”

you raised a brow, half-amused, half-intrigued. “oh? and what would that be, mr. punishment master?”

he grinned, tapping his thigh. “you get off here,” he said, patting his knee and thigh as he spread his legs wider, inviting you closer.

“only here. no touching me — just use my thigh, babe.”

then he grabbed the onahole again, lifting it with an infuriatingly smug expression. “i’ll just keep myself busy with this.”

you couldn’t help but scoff, though a thrill ran through you. “seriously, 'toru? that’s your big idea?”

he shot you a taunting look. “unless you’re chicken?” he teased, patting his thigh once more. “don’t think i’ll be holding back over here, either. let’s see if you can keep up.”

you knew it was a challenge — a nasty one at that — but something about the idea had you biting your lip and inching closer, already feeling the pulse of excitement.

satoru chuckled, settling back against the pillows, his eyes darkening as he watched you straddle his thigh, your core already aching at the sensation of his strong muscle beneath you. his free hand squeezed your hip, keeping you steady. “theree we go. make a mess if you want, babe — ’m sure you’ll need to.”

heat flushed through your body as you started to move, grinding down, feeling the friction build with every subtle roll of your hips. meanwhile, his other hand lifted the onahole, and with a shameless, slow smirk, he slipped himself inside. you watched as his breath hitched, and his head tilted back, a low groan escaping him as he started to move it along his length.

“feels good,” he murmured, giving you a challenging look. “almost as good as the real thing.”

“almost?” you muttered back, pressing down harder, letting the friction against his thigh send a delicious pulse through your body. “don’t sell yourself short. maybe i should leave more often if you’ve got yourself so covered.”

“don’t tempt me,” he chuckled, but there was a heat in his eyes as he watched you move, hips bucking up slightly to give you just a little more to work with. “’m not the only one who gets needy, clearly.” his hand on your hip tightened, guiding you into a rhythm that only made the pleasure more intense.

but as much as you tried to focus on the friction against his thigh, the sight of him, jaw clenched, his chest heaving as he moved the onahole, kept drawing your attention back. he wasn’t holding back — loud, shameless sounds slipping from his lips as he threw his head back. he wasn’t making it easy for you to ignore him, not at all.

“enjoying the view?” he teased, breathlessly. “i’d say you like this punishment way too much.”

you rolled your eyes, even as heat burned your cheeks. “maybe, but i doubt you’re thinking about anything other than the real thing right now.”

he laughed, low and husky, clearly relishing every bit of it. “oh, don’t worry,” he murmured, meeting your eyes with a wicked glint. “i’ll make sure you know who wins this little game of ours. maybe next time you’ll think twice about trying to surprise me.”

you pressed down harder on his thigh, each slow grind sending waves of friction that had you teetering on the edge of control. a soft, slick sound escaped you as you found the perfect spot, the steady roll of your hips growing a little more frantic with every push. you could feel the heat radiating through every inch of his body, the roughness of his thigh adding a tantalizing burn that only heightened your need.

“shit — look at you,” gojo’s voice cracked just slightly, his smug smirk slipping as he watched you, his eyes practically glazed over. he pumped the onahole around himself with a tight, almost desperate grip, his breath hitching as his hips jerked up reflexively. “god, fuck — such a lil' mess, aren't cha? comin' back early, thinking i’d just — goddamn — just let ya off easy.”

his jaw clenched as he rocked the onahole faster along his dick, the slick, obscene sounds of it mixing with the soft wet noises coming from where you rode his thigh. the sight of him losing it, each push and pull of his hand getting sloppier, had your body tightening in response, thighs trembling against him.

“don’t stop — don’t you fucking stop,” he growled, his voice dropping lower, rougher, as he struggled to keep the control he’d so confidently held. “look at you, grindin' like some — some desperate lil' slut. can’t even wait, huh? already makin' a mess on my thigh. bet ya missed this cock more than you’re letting on.”

your rhythm faltered as his words hit you, but he gripped your hip tighter, guiding you right back into pace. “thought you’d come home and i’d just — nngh — just give it to you? nah,” he laughed, though it broke into a groan.

“you’re gonna earn it, babe.”

his own composure was unraveling fast. the slick, loud sounds of his own movements filled the room as he drove himself into the onahole with reckless abandon, his hips bucking up, muscles tensing under your touch.

“shit — fuck,” he choked out, words blurring together as he continued, “you’re — oh god, look at you — grindin' like it’s all you need. needy little thing, can’t even wait another day without throwing yourself at me.”

your pace quickened, matching his breathless rhythm as your eyes locked onto his. he was practically a mess, eyes half-lidded and unfocused as his breath came in harsh, broken pants. his control shattered entirely as he abandoned any semblance of pace, pumping the onahole roughly around himself, his hips jerking up each time as if he were imagining you instead.

“can’t — can’t believe you’re actually gettin' off like this,” he babbled, words tumbling out in a rush. “look at you, drippin' allll over my — nngh — thigh while ’m right here. so fuckin' desperate for it — goddamn,” he groaned, his own voice pitching higher, “bet nothin’s as good as that wet lil' cunt, though. you know you’re better than this thing.”

the words alone had you grinding harder, each movement becoming a plea for more as you felt the familiar coil tighten within you. his eyes caught yours, and you saw the hazy, almost dazed hunger there, his face flushed, and his lips parting as he let out a string of ragged moans.

“fuck — can’t even — shit, gonna lose it, babe,” he panted, his voice breaking as his hand slowed, struggling to keep up with his own need. his head tipped back, a strangled groan leaving him.

“i’d ruin you so good — make sure ya can’t even stand after this. you’d just take it, wouldn’t you? such a good lil' thing.”

and that was it — the filthy, raw sound of him breaking under his own need, the slurred degradation spilling from his lips, was all it took. with one last grind against his thigh, you came undone, clutching at his shoulders, a loud, keening moan escaping you as the tension finally snapped.

he watched, eyes wild, chest heaving, and you felt his grip tighten on you, anchoring you in place.

“there it is,” he muttered, voice hoarse, a dark grin tugging at his lips. “s'pretty when you fall apart.”

you let out a breathless laugh, pushing a damp strand of hair from your face as you catch him staring at you, a flush still painted across his cheeks.

“y'know,” you smirked, tracing a finger down his chest, “for someone who wanted to ‘punish’ me, you sure sounded like you turned yourself on way more than you planned.”

his eyes narrowed, a mix of irritation and amusement flashing across his face as he rolled his eyes. “yeah, yeah, keep talkin', smartass,” he muttered, but there was no bite to his words.

his chest was still heaving, his skin glistening, and it was painfully clear that, despite how hard he’d come, he was already getting riled up for a round two. especially with you straddling him, looking just as spent and flushed.

“oh, don’t act all annoyed,” you teased, leaning down until your lips hovered just over his, “can feel how bad you want it right now.”

he huffed, but you could see the corner of his mouth tugging upward. “you’re not wrong,” he muttered, hands lazily finding their way to your hips.

“all that talk and now i’ve gotta remind you why the real thing’s better than my ‘little toy.’” his grip tightened, and you felt him shift beneath you, pressing himself against you with an unmistakable intent.

just as you started to shift off his lap, unready to unwind from the high you’d just shared, gojo’s hand shot out, catching you by the waistband.

“oh, where do you think you’re going?” his voice was low, almost dangerous, and before you could reply, he’d yanked down your pants, leaving you standing half-exposed.

“'toru — !” you gasped, but he was already pulling you back, turning you so you were straddling his face instead, his hands gripping your thighs with a possessive strength. the warmth of his breath against you sent a jolt up your spine, and just as your brain registered what he was doing, he pulled you down the last inch, pressing his mouth flush against you.

a moan tore from your lips as his tongue slid over you, hot and slow, before dipping inside, making you tremble.

“don’t think i’d be so considerate, huh?” he murmured, his voice muffled, sending vibrations that shot through you. “lettin' you get all needy on my thigh and leaving you like that? hell no.”

but as you felt his hands grip you tighter, angling you just the way he wanted, an idea popped into your head. your eyes drifted to the onahole, and with a devilish smirk, you wrapped your hand around it.

if he wanted to make this interesting, then you’d up the ante.

you tapped his shoulder lightly, making him pause for a split second, and leaned down just enough to murmur, “let’s make this fun, 'toru. if you make me cum before you do, then maybe i’ll use my mouth on you… but if not,” you grinned, lowering the onahole onto him with a slow, deliberate stroke, “this’ll do just fine, don’tcha think?”

a muffled groan escaped him, his grip on your thighs tightening as his hips jerked up into the onahole involuntarily. “you’re — shit — such a lil' tease,” he muttered, voice strained but amused, even as his breathing started to turn ragged.

but he wasn’t backing down.

with a renewed determination, he buried his face between your legs, his tongue lapping at you with messy, unrestrained hunger.

you gasped, gripping on to dear life for balance as his tongue flicked up, swirling over your sensitive spot, each pass sending shivers through you.

“f-fuck, 'toru,” you whimpered, trying to keep a steady hand as you moved the onahole up and down his dick, watching as his thighs tensed under you.

but your rhythm wavered when he groaned deeply against you, the sound sending a wave of pleasure straight through you.

“you’re already slippin',” he murmured, breath hot against you. “better focus, or i’ll have you begging for more before you even get me close.”

his mouth closed around you, sucking and teasing in a way that made your head spin. every pull of his lips, every languid slide of his tongue, had you gripping the onahole tighter just to ground yourself. his own hips bucked under you, and you knew he was fighting the same battle you were.

still, you weren’t about to let him win so easily.

“you think i can’t handle it?” you whispered breathlessly, leaning down a little and twisting the onahole just right, watching as his body arched up, a low, strained moan escaping him. “seems like i’ve got you right where i want you, babe.”

“oh, you think so?” he chuckled, though the sound was edged with desperation. his fingers dug into your thighs, pulling you down harder onto his face, and his tongue plunged deeper, flicking over every sensitive spot like he was mapping you out by heart. he was relentless, and soon enough, you could barely keep the onahole moving, your rhythm stuttering as pleasure overtook you.

“s-satoru,” you whimpered, trying to hold onto the last shreds of your composure as his mouth worked you over, his teeth grazing your inner thigh before he latched back onto your core. “fuck, that’s — too much —”

he groaned into you, hips jerking into the onahole with every thrust. “don’t stop,” he growled, voice muffled but insistent. “give me every last bit of that attitude, babe. just know you’re gonna lose.”

the slick sounds filled the room, the wet pull of your movements on him mixing with the desperate, messy noises he made as he devoured you. your thighs started to shake, pleasure building to a peak you couldn’t hold off much longer, and he knew it.

"c'mon,” he murmured between laps, voice rough with a mix of amusement and sheer need, “you’re close, aren’t cha? feels too good?”

his words broke you, and with a strangled cry, you came, your body trembling as he held you down, his tongue lapping up every last drop. he didn’t relent, even as you tried to pull away, the overstimulation making your legs go weak.

you slumped against him, catching your breath, but he didn’t miss a beat, pulling you off just enough so he could look up at you with that lazy, satisfied smirk.

“looks like i win,” he murmured, a teasing glint in his eye as he tapped his lips. “ready to pay up?”

you sank to your knees, his hand threading through your hair as you looked up, meeting his gaze with a smirk before taking him in. your lips wrapped around him, and his cock twitched at the first warm, wet slide of your mouth, his grip tightening almost reflexively as you took him deeper.

“fuck,” he breathed out, his head falling back against the headboard as he felt your tongue swirl around him, every inch of him swallowed by the heat of your mouth. his hips bucked, and a half-formed moan slipped past his lips, the sound raw and needy. “god, you’re — so good at this,” he panted, his words coming out in broken gasps, “shit, babe, the way you — ah, fuck —”

you glanced up, watching him unravel, his eyes barely able to stay open, a dazed look painted across his face as you bobbed your head, each motion making him twitch and groan. his hand tightened in your hair, guiding your pace, but you took it even further, letting his dick slide to the back of your throat, gagging softly as he pushed deeper.

“fuck, babe,” he moaned, a deep, shaky sound that filled the room, his voice strained as he struggled to hold back. “you’re gonna make me lose it already — oh shit, you’re perfect, just —” his words dissolved into a mess of curses, hips rocking up into your mouth, his control all but shattered.

you hummed around him, and the vibration had him practically keening, his hand tightening its grip on you as his body jerked, his breathing turning ragged.

“god, i can’t — can barely think,” he muttered, voice hoarse, a delirious grin crossing his face even as his eyes half-closed. “all i wanna do is…fuck that mouth until i…fuck, babe, don’t stop, don’t you dare stop.”

each time you went down, he let out a stuttering moan, his thighs tensing under your touch as he tried to keep up with the intensity of it. his head tilted back, mouth dropping open as a stream of filthy praise spilled from him.

“so good, so fucking good…can’t even think straight,” he groaned, his voice breaking as he choked on a moan, his hips starting to snap up into your mouth, matching the rhythm you set.

“bet you love this, don’t you?” he muttered, his voice breathless, almost incoherent. “love it when i — when i fuck that pretty mouth raw, don’t you, babe? fuck —” his words dissolved into another desperate moan, his hips jerking forward as you took him deeper, gagging softly with each thrust.

“shit, shit, shit —” his hand trembled in your hair, his breath coming out in short, broken gasps as he finally lost himself to the rhythm.

“gonna make me cum, you’re — oh god, you’re so fuckin' good at this, can’t — can’t hold back.”

you felt him tense, his thighs tensing as he hit the edge, the low, guttural groan that ripped from his throat sending a thrill through you. his grip tightened, and with one last thrust, he came, his hips stuttering as he cums down your throat, his groans fading into a low, contented moan as he slumped back against the bed.

when you pulled back, his breath still ragged, he looked down at you with a dazed, satisfied grin, eyes filled with lazy admiration. “damn, baby,” he murmured, reaching down to pull you up beside him, “you just…you just knew how to shut me up, huh?”

you grinned, catching your breath as you curled up beside him, voice still a little raspy. "you know, maybe i should take more business trips if this is how we end up shutting each other up. kinda think we both need it.”

he shot you a sharp, playful look, a laugh rumbling low in his chest as he pulled you closer. “oh, don’t even think about it,” he muttered, leaning down to press a rough kiss to your lips, tasting himself on you.

“i don’t think i could handle going this long again. you’d come home to a whole new level of desperate boyfriend next time, and we both know you wouldn’t be able to walk for days.”

“is that supposed to scare me?” you teased, fingers running along his chest. “because if anything, i’m more tempted now.”

“careful, babe,” he said, voice low as he nipped at your bottom lip. “keep talking like that, and i’ll have to give you a reason to stay grounded right here with me, every damn night.”

you laughed, wrapping your arms around his neck. "fine, fine, i’ll stay,” you murmured, your words barely above a whisper, “for now. but if i do ever have to leave again…”

he cut you off, lips pressing against yours with a possessive edge. “then i’ll just have to make sure you don’t forget what you’re coming back to.”

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[kaleidohscopic]

TRY AGAIN — JJH

PAIRING: jaehyun x female reader SUMMARY: if you could have it your way, you'd never have to see, hear, or even think about jeong jaehyun ever again. a fortuitous blind date, and that same dimpled smile after all those years, is somehow enough to make you reconsider. maybe he was always meant to be by your side. GENRE: exes to lovers! au, slight coworkers! au, romance, angst, slow burn, humour, some pining, a touch of smut WARNINGS: swearing, alcohol consumption, too many descriptions of coffee and wine, mentions of sex, general mature content and themes, reader is not good at talking about her feelings, joy x doyoung, i try to write about the complexity of relationships and personal growth (i fail miserably) WORD COUNT: 32.4k NOTE: oh. my god. it's finally here! there's certainly something different about writing for your ult. office scenes inspired by the internship i did at a big 4 firm that ended up rejecting everyone from my department (yes i'm still bitter). i actually wanted to get this out back in august to celebrate jolo but alas, Life. i guess this is a parting gift? (jaehyun i am nothing and nobody without you.) i poured a lot of heart into this fic and posting it feels like letting my child go out into the world alone... be safe my darling xx

You should’ve brought an umbrella. 

The early evening sky was darkening faster than usual, ominous grey clouds hovering between the skyscrapers like an unspoken but imminent threat. Though the ground was still dry, you had a feeling it wouldn’t be for long. Your haste to leave your apartment this morning had robbed you of the good sense to check the weather forecast, mind too preoccupied with tonight’s agenda to spare a thought for the possible torrential downpour that summer seemed to be so fond of. 

A glance down at your feet sent a twinge of annoyance through you. Of course you picked the black pumps to wear today. They were pretty, which was why you had slipped them on in the first place, wanting to make a good impression even if you told yourself you didn’t really care that much, but they were also expensive, and you did not want to get them wet. You said a silent prayer. Hopefully the impending rain would be kind to the leather.

“You better not be flaking,” Joy warned, voice crackling through your phone speaker. “I don’t really care what he thinks of you for not showing up, but it’ll reflect badly on me, and I can’t have that.”

You suppressed a smile. Ever the drama queen.

“I am literally walking out of the station right now. The Italian place, right?” you asked, pausing for a moment at the top of the stairs to gather your surroundings. The restaurant she had picked out wasn’t exactly an unknown location to you, but it had been a while since you last visited, and the buildings seemed to look back at you with a dazed unfamiliarity.

She gave an affirmative hum. “Two streets down from the exit. The reservation is under my name, but I think he might be there already.”

“Yippee. How exciting.”

There was a loud sigh from the other end of the line, and you could almost hear her rolling her eyes at you. “You do know I set this up with your best interests at heart, right?”

“Are you sure it’s not because you were bored and needed to use some poor soul for your own entertainment?”

“Hey, I’m not the one who put three packets of salt in Jungwoo’s coffee,” she fired back. 

Okay, maybe that one was on you. But it had been pretty funny seeing him spit it out all over the office kitchen counter and then meticulously clean up the mess with paper towels, all the while eyeing everyone on your floor with suspicion.

“I’m just saying,” she continued, “give him a chance. I think you guys could really like each other.” There was a pause. “Plus, he’s super fucking hot. Like if I wasn’t happily taken I would be climbing him like a tree.”

“Gross. I’m filing a complaint with HR.”

“Reporting me to my own department? I’ll make sure that file never even makes it through the portal,” she cackled at your empty threat, and you joined in with her. “Seriously though, just give him a chance. At least stay until the mains come out.”

“Fine,” you acquiesced, though you made sure she heard the huff that accompanied it. “But if he starts talking about cryptocurrency I am leaving.” 

Joy only laughed, assuring you he probably wouldn’t, and bid you goodbye with a parting command for you to enjoy yourself. 

On days like these, you couldn’t decide whether you were grateful or unlucky to have been placed on a team with her for your first project at the company. Technically speaking, Joy was your senior by almost two years, but even at that first daily stand-up half a year ago, filled with nervous smiles and clumsy introductions, you had the feeling the two of you would gel. By the time that first project wrapped up, the two of you had long progressed past mere co-workers, having bonded over 8-hour days of Powerpoint formatting and your mutual dislike of olives. You had never been more thankful for someone so vivacious to show you the ropes, and help you settle into the new environment with such ease.

However, Joy was a meddler.

Her meddling was what had you currently navigating the crumbly asphalt in your nicest shoes to meet the apparent hunk she had set you up with. You didn’t know much about the guy since she refused to give you his name, afraid you’d search him up on social media and then make up some excuse to back out once you had seen his face — like you had done with the previous two that she’d picked out for you.

Apparently, this one was from the Digital department, and had been at the company for a little over a year. Those were two out of the three pieces of information that she had deigned to bestow upon you, the third being that he had dimples, which she thought you’d appreciate.

Oh, and now the fourth one being that he was ‘super fucking hot’.

Who knew? Maybe you would enjoy yourself. Getting back into the dating scene was pretty low on your priorities, with your career and trying to stick to a consistent gym routine taking up the majority of your time, but you were never opposed to a bit of fun. 

Maybe Mr Super-Fucking-Hot could be a bit of fun. 

Just take it easy, you thought to yourself, spotting the glass windows of the restaurant as you rounded the corner. Il Giardino, read the sign that hung above the door. Cute.

Hastily, you shifted your bag and cardigan to the other arm and smoothed out the creases in your black trousers. You had tried for something a little dressy, but also office-appropriate since you were coming straight from work, and not like you had tried too hard and spent an unnecessary number of hours thinking about what to wear on this stupid blind date. Another quick glance at your reflection in the window, just to make sure there was no food or lipstick in your teeth, and you pushed past the door.

Soft jazz filtered through your ears as you stepped inside. The restaurant was nicely decorated, a few vintage Italian posters hanging on the exposed brick walls, and an overall rustic feel that paired well with the warm, earthy ambience. Judging by the patrons already seated, this place was a popular date night location, with all but one table occupied by couples sharing soft touches and flirty smiles over half-filled glasses of red wine.

Joy certainly knew how to pick a spot.

You gave the smiling hostess Joy’s name for the reservation, managing a weak smile of your own when she informed you that the other half of your party had already arrived, and followed her through the tables further into the restaurant. Outside, the first few raindrops had begun to splatter against the asphalt, slowly darkening the road with wet patches that were sure to grow into puddles. It seemed you had arrived just in time to escape the rain.

The hostess stopped at a more private table towards the back, and gestured towards the empty seat with that same welcoming smile. Mystery man, aka Mr Super-Fucking-Hot, was sat with his back to you, leafing through what you assumed to be the drinks menu. His silhouette from behind was alright-looking, you supposed, if you really had to put a label to it, but there was something vaguely familiar about the shape of his head. Perhaps you had crossed paths in the office lobby before?

You approached the table, trying to sneak a peek of him out of the corner of your eye, just to see if he lived up to Joy’s oh-so-generous description, without being so painfully obvious—

And froze.

“Is everything alright?” the hostess asked, still beaming at you. 

You barely heard her through the cotton wool that seemed to suddenly fill your ears, hands instantly clamming up as you took in the man in front of you. His warm eyes widened a fraction of a millimetre with recognition, quickly followed by something else you couldn’t place.

This was not happening.

“Is everything okay?” the hostess tried again. The corners of her mouth were beginning to slip, and she cast you a mildly concerned glance.

How strange you must have looked, standing stock-still beside your reserved table like a statue. The only things that could dispel the notion you had suddenly turned into stone were the light flush to your cheeks, and the deafening pounding of your own heart that you were sure the whole restaurant could hear.

“Everything’s fine, just give us a minute please,” Jaehyun finally said, flashing the hostess a kind smile. She took her cue to leave, but not without another curious look between the two of you, hurriedly brushing away the waiter who was approaching the table and preparing to rattle off the specials. 

Hearing his voice seemed to break the spell that had rendered you so immobile. You straightened, shifting your bag higher up your shoulder, and turned to leave. Whatever this was, you were not entertaining it.

Chair legs screeched abruptly against the floor. 

“Wait,” he pleaded. 

Your eyes landed on his hand latched around your wrist first, before they moved to his face again. Slowly, his fingers loosened, but he kept you in his hold. 

“Will you sit, please?” he asked softly. 

You looked at him. Really looked at him, taking in his full, straight brows, the slope of his nose, the pinkness of his lips. His cheeks had slimmed since you had last seen him, allowing the sharpness of his jaw to really come through. Breathtakingly handsome as he always had been. A little older, a little more masculine, and yet somehow still the same.

And maybe because you still saw him, the boy that you loved, the first and likely only boy you had ever truly loved, you did sit, sliding into your chair like it was made of ice.

“It’s been a while,” he began, lowering back into his seat. You gave no indication that you had heard him at all, eyes focused on the flickering tealight candle at the centre of the table. The wax was a pinkish red colour, and the light scent coming from it was sweet, with a touch of tartness. Pomegranate, maybe. At your silence, he cleared his throat and tried again. “How have you—”

“Did you plan this?”

He pulled back a bit, as if in genuine shock. “No, I swear, I had no idea it was you. Joy only told me it was someone from her department, and that you were pretty, and she thought you’d be my type.” A pause. “Did you?”

Your reply was icy. “Why would I plan to see you?”

He looked away at that, sucking in a breath through his teeth. You were probably mistaken, but something akin to hurt flashed in those eyes as he gave a short nod at your words. Likely a trick of the light. It was a little too dim in here. What reason would he have to be hurt? Why would he be bleeding when you were the one with cuts all over your hands from picking up the glass shards of your own broken heart?

An uncomfortable beat passed. “Well, I’d say it was nice to see you, but you know I’m not good at lying,” you said. Shouldn’t have sat down in the first place.

Grabbing your bag and cardigan, you made to stand up again, regretting your decision to come here, regretting giving in to Joy so easily, regretting leaving the house this morning without a stupid fucking umbrella. The drizzle outside had turned into a downpour in no time, and the street drains were definitely going to clog up tonight. 

Seoul and its fucking summer monsoon season.

“Can we just—please, can you—fuck. Can we have dinner and just talk? As friends?” His hand shot out across the table, as if itching to grab yours again, but thought better of it, letting his fingertips rest against the edges of the linen napkin you hadn’t even bothered to unfold. 

A refraction of light from his sleeve caught your eye. His cufflinks. He was wearing the cufflinks you had gotten him for your high school graduation all those years ago. 

They had been expensive. Four months of pay from your part-time job at the ice-cream parlour was just enough for the pale pearls set in sterling silver. You supposed it would have been silly of him to throw them away when they were so valuable. It wasn’t like you had thrown away the gold pendant he had given you either. That necklace hadn’t hung around your neck for a long time, but it still sat somewhere in the depths of your jewellery box, underneath all the newer ones you had bought for yourself or received from friends over the years.

“Fine,” you found yourself saying. “Sure. As friends. Why not?” 

Sinking back into your seat, you reached for the wine menu immediately. Enduring the next hour in the company of your ex-boyfriend without a drink? Unbearable. As much as you liked to convince yourself you were over him, from your behaviour tonight it was clear you most certainly were not, and only alcohol could soothe that blow to your pride.

Your eyes flitted down the page of reds, then the whites, then the sparklings. Christ, the prices in this place were not pretty. Joy would have to be in a completely separate tax bracket from you if these were the kinds of establishments she frequented. 

For a brief moment, you thought about ordering the most expensive bottle on the list — a Penfold’s 2018 Shiraz — just to be spiteful, but decided against it. If you were really going to be sharing a meal ‘as friends’, he would not be footing the entire bill. You wouldn’t let him.

The waiter, under the impression that things had somewhat cooled down, finally approached your table, albeit a bit cautiously. Hearing but not really listening, you let him sing praises about the wild mushroom ravioli, ordering it just to save yourself the effort of reading through the rest of the menu. When he reached the beverages portion of his spiel, you settled for a more reasonable bottle, a 2021 merlot.

It was only once he had left to put your orders in that you realised that you had not even checked if Jaehyun was driving tonight.

“I’ll pay for the wine, if you’re not drinking,” you said, fiddling with your napkin. You could probably finish the whole bottle yourself anyway. Maybe that would make it easier to look him in the eye.

“You really don’t need to do that,” he replied, voice soft but firm. The weight of his eyes on you was almost a tangible thing. “I’ll have a glass.”

Your waiter returned, making a show of uncorking the bottle before pouring it out into both your glasses. You couldn’t down the first one fast enough, draining half the contents in one long mouthful like it was your first taste of water after finishing a marathon. Jaehyun was more deliberate with his glass, taking only a few small sips before he set it down on the table again. If he noticed the speed at which you emptied yours, which it was pretty hard not to with the way you were gulping the wine down, he said nothing.

God, this was fucking awkward.

“So,” he began, trying to mask the crack of his voice with a cough, “what made you agree to this thing?”

You reached for the bottle. “Felt like I owed it to Joy,” you said, pouring yourself another glass. “I flaked out of the last two she organised.” 

Maybe you should have just gone on that first one with Taehyung, or Taehyun, or whatever his name was. Then you could have avoided this situation altogether. 

“So you do this kind of thing a lot, then?” came his careful question.

You were curt. “No.” 

He blinked a few times, the movements slow with confusion at the abruptness of your answer. You knew you were being difficult. You wanted to be. Five years could heal most things, but unspoken words could linger like splinters under your fingernails, festering below the surface. Calluses had hardened over the splinters of your breakup, tough and protective, but now it was as if they were pushing through to the surface again, your fingers newly tender at the sight of him after all those years. 

A small part of you wanted to give him a taste of your hurt, wanted him to feel the prick of tiny wood chips in the flesh behind his nail beds. The larger part, however, knew malice would do no good for you. You had survived the pain. There was no reason to survive poison as well.

“No, I don’t,” you tried again, a little softer, a little less jagged around the edges. “I think she just likes to set them up for fun. This is my first time on one of these blind uh…” The word date sat heavy on the tip of your tongue but refused to budge. “One of these things.” Maybe another mouthful of wine would wash it down.

“Her definition of fun can be rather interesting,” he said, politely filling the silence.

You hummed in agreement, raising the freshly filled wine glass to your mouth again as you scrambled around in your head for something, anything to say. It had been a while since you had last been out on the dating scene, and you were well aware of it, but good grief, it was like your conversational skills had evaporated into thin air.

“How do you know Joy?” was what you decided on after a deliberately slow sip.

Thankfully, Jaehyun seemed to still know how to carry a conversation. “She’s one of the HR reps for Digital, so we’ve spoken a few times before. And her boyfriend is a friend from university.” He paused to take a sip of his wine. “Have you met him?”

You shook your head lightly. “No, not yet. Hoping to, soon.” 

“You’ll like him. Doyoung’s a great guy. Patience of a saint.”

“He’d have to be to keep up with her,” you said, hints of a chuckle sprinkled in your voice. 

Something about the fact that he was already privy to more of Joy’s personal life than you were had a sliver of jealousy wriggling in your stomach. She was supposed to be your friend, and yet you knew very little about Doyoung besides his name, while your ex-boyfriend across from you had been buddy-buddy with him for probably years and years. Not that it was a competition to see who held more information about their coworker outside the office, but the feeling that you were somewhat losing didn’t sit well.

“It’s actually my first time on a blind date as well,” he said, allowing himself a tentative smile. “You know how convincing she can be. I mean, I don’t think I’d ever go on one if she hadn’t roped me in. It feels a bit silly meeting up with a complete stranger, you know?” He turned his smile to you, still tentative but coloured with a tinge of hopefulness, like he wanted you to understand, like he knew you would. 

How could you not? There had once been a time where you believed that you and Jaehyun had been two halves of the same soul, carved into existence from the same stone. There had once been a time where you knew him almost better than he knew himself. 

A time rather distant from now.

You kept your answer non-committal. “Sure,” you murmured, wishing his pretty face wouldn’t fall so quickly at your nonchalance, wishing you hadn’t caught the slightest droop to the curve of his mouth. Everything about him was still too familiar. “I’m just a bit surprised to hear that, I guess. You were so desperate to meet new people back then.”

Three seconds passed in silence. 

His eyes dropped to his lap, as did yours to your own. This previously reasonable bottle of merlot was loosening your lips rather unreasonably.

“Sorry, that was—” Unnecessary? Mean? 

True? 

“I didn’t mean to say that,” you finally managed, the words spilling out of your mouth in a tumbled rush. 

Or maybe you had. 

Jaehyun could only flash you a weak smile. “It’s fine,” he said, though you both knew it wasn’t really.

Frigidity returned to the air between you, stopped just short of freezing over by the reappearance of your waiter, along with a plate of goat’s cheese arancini. Jaehyun politely gestured for you to eat first, watching as you speared the crusty surface with your fork and moved it over to your own plate. For a few seconds, the only noises that could be heard from the table were the clinks and clanks of stainless steel utensils against ceramic plates. The arancini could not have come at a better time, affording both of you the opportunity to hide behind the guise of eating, and put off the need to make strained conversation, even if the time it bought you was fleeting.

Meet new people. Those were the exact words he had said to you all those years ago. Han River on a Tuesday night, cherry blossom petals fluttering through the balmy April air, the iciness of winter finally melting away into a distant memory to reveal fresh green carpets and vivid blooms — few things could have been more romantic. Spring is the season of love, they said. 

But for you, spring was the season of loss. It was the season when love ended, when love could be taken back and snatched away in the blink of an eye. On a Tuesday night in April, you learned that your love was not just not enough, but that it was a burden, an obstacle between Jaehyun and living his life to the fullest. That time spent with you was time squandered. That you were robbing him of the complete university experience, and to an extent, his youth.

Jaehyun had always been a wanter. He wanted boldly and he wanted freely, never dwelling too long on how his wanting could appear in the eyes of others, never shy about his desires. When he was ten years old, he wanted a dog, despite the reddening of his nose and the watering of his eyes whenever he’d get within arm’s distance of the bichon frisé. In tenth grade, he wanted you, with cans of peach soda and sweet little notes in your locker until you finally said yes to being his girlfriend after three days of public pursuit. 

(You had arguably wanted him more, and for longer, though nobody had been none the wiser — you were rather good at hiding your feelings.)

Two months into your first year at university, his wants changed. He wanted more space and more freedom to meet new people. He wanted to be able to attend club social outings, and get to know his seniors, and play drinking games with his new roommates, instead of trekking to the other side of Seoul every week to see you, his girlfriend, who had now become his obligation.

It would have been a lie to say you hadn’t noticed a shift in his behaviour in the months leading up to that fateful night. Smiles had become a little wearier. Texts had become sparser. You had chalked it up to the challenges of settling into the new routine and rigorous coursework, and the distance between your schools that occupied opposite sides of the city. Sure, the hour-long subway ride from his campus to yours wasn’t the greatest asset to your relationship, but 18-year-old you had remained optimistic it would endure whatever curveballs your first year of university and the beginnings of real adulthood would throw at you. 

You had survived the CSAT together and emerged in one piece. What else could be harder than that?

“You’re right though,” he said quietly, eyes fixed on his own piece of fried goat’s cheese. “I guess I was.”

You let your fork drop with a soft clang. “Let’s not, uh—we don’t have to talk about that.” Pink petals were swimming at the edges of your vision. 

Please, let’s not talk about that.

A flicker of something behind his eyes could almost convince you he wanted exactly the opposite of your unspoken plea. Maybe this was a conversation he didn’t actually want to avoid the way you so desperately did. 

And maybe he would have said something too, if not for the waiter who returned at that precise moment. 

“The mushroom ravioli,” the waiter announced, setting the plate down in front of you, “and the amatriciana spaghetti. Enjoy.” 

Four pieces of pasta covered in sage butter looked back up at you. 

You made a mental note to never order ravioli at an Italian restaurant ever again. 

The sound of scraping utensils returned to your table, lightly blanketing the stilted pause in conversation with idle noise. Without much enthusiasm, you sliced at one of the four pieces of your ravioli, throwing what you hoped were sneaky glances at the full plate of spaghetti sitting in an appetising red sauce laid out before your ex-boyfriend. 

“Do you want to try mine?”

Sneakiness had never been your forte.

Your polite refusal came quickly, even if it was rather weak to your own ears, but Jaehyun was already twirling a portion out onto the share plate the waiter had kindly provided a few minutes earlier. He made sure to scoop some sauce and pancetta bits on top as well, before gently pushing the plate towards you. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, though you made no move to dig in.

Everything wasn’t supposed to feel this familiar. You weren’t supposed to soften so easily at the sight of his dimpled smile. You weren’t supposed to feel that strange tug in your chest at his thoughtfulness, at the way he could still pick up the slightest change in your expression. And maybe the bar was too low, and here you were fawning over nothing more than the bare minimum, because what guy would see his date enviously looking at his food instead of her own and blatantly ignore it?

But with Jaehyun, it was different. You knew it was. Within every action, there was familiarity and practice, there was thought and care, there were years of history that were unerasable, even with the passage of time. You weren’t the same wide-eyed teenagers now as you had been then, and yet scenes from the rest of that excruciating first semester flickered in your mind. 

A silent breakdown during a business administration lecture. Your roommate’s concerned expression when you decided to skip dinner again.

The tug in your chest was leading you back into dangerous territory. 

For the third time tonight, you debated grabbing your things and walking straight out. You had only promised Joy that you would stay until the mains came out. If you were going to leave now, technically, you would still have fulfilled your end of the promise. Arguably, this wasn’t the best time to make an exit — fifteen minutes earlier would have been much better so that the kitchen would have time to cancel your stupid ravioli before they started preparing it. Leaving now wouldn’t be the most optimal, but it was still an option. A tad heavy on the dramatics, but you could live with that. You’d just never be able to step foot in this establishment again.

A shame. The spaghetti looked good. You’d have to search up if this place did delivery.

“You can go if you really want to, I won’t hold it against you,” Jaehyun said quietly. His eyes were fixed on the fork he was twirling through his dish. You supposed you should’ve been surprised at the way he could read your mind without even looking at you, but you couldn’t find the energy in you to pretend.

“But,” he continued at your silence, “if you’re willing to stay, I’d really like it if we could just catch up?” At this, he finally met your eyes and offered a small smile. “It has been a while, after all.”

Maybe it was the sincerity contained in those soft brown eyes. Maybe it was because you really did want to try the amatriciana spaghetti while it was hot and fresh off the stove. Whatever it was, you found yourself resolving to stay, despite all the reasons not to, despite the sound of them loud and clear in your head, ready at your disposal. Allowing yourself to indulge in nostalgia once in a while couldn’t be that bad for you. Right? 

So you stayed. And you ate (his spicy amatriciana scored a landslide victory over your mushroom ravioli). And you talked. As two friends would do, catching each other up on the things that had shaped your lives since you had gone on your separate ways. 

Conversation was clunky at first, that was to be expected. Even the closest of friendships would encounter some choppy waters when reconnecting for the first time after five years. But conversation with Jaehyun gave way to smooth sailing much quicker than you would have expected. He still wore the face of the boy who would sneak an extra serving of fried sweet potato from the cafeteria because he knew you liked them, but he wasn’t quite the same. Older, certainly. Maturity wasn’t something that went hand-in-hand with age like you had thought when you were younger, but he was more mature too. Surer of himself, and his place in the world.

You heard of the summer he spent in the UK after graduation, visiting his uncle and their family, appreciating classical architecture and the leisure inherent to rolling green hills that he hadn’t been able to find in the metropolis he had grown up in. (The food, however, was an entirely different story. He had never been so overjoyed to see a bowl of rice that wasn’t covered in mushy peas or sitting in a puddle of questionable-looking curry.)

He learned of your semester exchange in Amsterdam, including the unfortunate incident involving you, a runaway bicycle, and the freezing water of the Dutch canals. Fortunately, a nasty cold and two weeks in bed over the Christmas break were the worst things that came of it. Those few months had been eye-opening, to say the least. Stepping outside of your own bubble had made you realise how much more there was to the world, and how little you knew of it.

Yes, Jaehyun had changed, but then again so had you. The realisation dawned halfway through dessert, slowly settling over you as you spooned at the tiramisu in the centre of the table. Perhaps it hadn’t been fair to him that you had been harbouring this seed of antagonism towards him for all these years. He, so afflicted by youth, as you both had been back then, was only doing what he thought was right and necessary. Could you really fault him for that? You had seen enough of life now to know that sometimes, nobody was to blame.

There was a comfortable lull in the conversation before he spoke again. The sound of his voice drew you away from the window, where you could see that the rain had slowed from the earlier dramatic downpour to a lighter shower. 

“I know I probably wasn’t who you were expecting today,” he said, a little hesitant and gauging your expression.

“You definitely were not.” You gave him an amused half-smile over the rim of your barely-filled glass, which he returned. The bottle of merlot sat tall and empty on the table.

“I just wanted to say,” he began, taking in a breath, “I’m glad it was you. It was really nice to see you again. And I’m sorry if you were disappointed that it was me.” 

There was something sad in the curve of his mouth, you thought. It tempered the warmth in his eyes.

“I’m not disappointed,” you heard yourself say. “Really.”

It was the truth. You knew he could see it written across your face. Dishonesty and insincere flattery were not familiar weapons you wielded. He knew that. He knew you.

Jaehyun sat back, bringing his own glass to his lips and draining the lingering contents. Perhaps to hide the private smile that broke out across his handsome face, which you pretended not to see, turning your attention back to the raindrops pattering against the window. 

The evening air was cool on your bare arms when you stepped out, taking shelter under the awning in front of the restaurant. You weren’t the only one who had forgone a weather app consultation today. Jaehyun stood beside you, hands tucked neatly in the pockets of his slacks, a not unwelcome companion while you waited for your taxi to arrive. He’d call one later, after he made sure you had gotten in the car and were on the way home.

“I guess I’ll see you around?” he asked, tone light. 

You cast a sidelong glance at him. His profile was backlit by the warm light emanating from inside the restaurant, carving out the straight bridge of his nose, a soft shadow cupping the fullness of his bottom lip. Would there ever be a time the sight of him wouldn’t take your breath away?

“Maybe,” you breathed. Letting him back into your life wasn’t a decision you felt ready to make yet, and you had no intention of promising him anything you couldn’t be sure you’d be able to deliver. Even if you would only be promising him friendship.

He didn’t push it further and hummed in understanding. Then your taxi was pulling up in front of the restaurant, the splash from the tyres just missing the hem of your trousers, and you were bidding him goodbye, staring a second too long at the dimples that appeared, and trying not to step in a pothole puddle as you clambered rather ungracefully into the car. 

But because realisation was never punctual, it was only when you arrived home, carefully kicking off the black pumps and patting them dry with a microfibre cloth, that you realised two things. 

First, you had left your cardigan at the Italian restaurant.

And second, Jaehyun had footed the whole bill.

There was a reason the seventh floor was your favourite floor in the building.

It wasn’t because of the little in-office cafe with the cute but ridiculously overpriced pastries that tasted even better than they looked, or the deceptively comfortable bean bag chairs by the far window that would always tempt you with a mid-afternoon nap every time you sank into one of them.

No. The seventh floor was your favourite because it had a Nespresso machine. Free use. Company-funded.

A seventh floor coffee was one of the only things that could get you to leave the comfort of your desk and willingly walk up two flights of stairs. (The elevators always took too long.) On Monday afternoons like these, after an entire morning swimming through attendance and sick leave reports from the last quarter, the promise of a smooth and velvety cappuccino felt like your only hope for humanity. Unfortunately for you, it seemed like everybody else had the same idea, if the line in front of the coffee machine was anything to judge by. 

“You should have told me!”

You gave Joy an incredulous look. “Right. Because I definitely knew exactly who he was.”

“Well, you could have worked it out. You’re a smart girl.”

“You said a total of three sentences about him.”

She paused, fixing you with a contemplative stare. Her eyebrows were doing that weird lifting thing when she was running something through her head. “Five sentences,” she finally managed, tapping around the rim of her empty mug. 

Why she came up with you at all when she wasn’t a coffee person, would probably take two sips of the espresso, and then complain it was too bitter, was beyond you. Sometimes you wondered if she was really that good at her job, or if her workload was just so non-existent that she could take five coffee breaks a day. It couldn’t be the latter, because you had seen that her calendar was full for the entire morning.

“Let’s not spend the next fifteen minutes talking about last Friday,” you sighed, already pushing thoughts of dimpled smiles and warm eyes to the far corner of your mind. Hopefully not to be revisited for a while. “I want my head outrageously blank while I enjoy this cappuccino. Swear to god Junmyeon is trying to drown me with those leave reports.”

“You know he only assigns them to you because you’ve never told him you hate doing it.”

“He assigns them to me because I’m the only one available who can get it done properly. You’re always blocked out, and Jungwoo has that weekly coaching session. Jisung tried to help me do it this morning, and he didn’t even separate paid from unpaid leave. The numbers looked like we were bleeding PTO.”

She gave you a sly smile. “You know you can block yourself out too,” she said off-handedly. 

“You can what?”

This was new information.

“You’re telling me someone else could be sifting through that 70-page file if I just schedule in a random meeting with myself?” you asked again, to which she nodded.

“Has yet to fail me. But make sure you name it something that makes sense, and don’t do it all the time, otherwise it’ll look suspicious.”

Corporate bullshitting was a fine art, and you were beginning to realise you were still but a novice at it. 

“And lay off the intern,” she added. “He’s just a child.” “He’s taller than Junmyeon.”

“A child in spirit, then. You know what I mean. He sort of reminds me of a cute little mouse,” she mused, trailing off. If her apartment complex didn’t have a pet ban, you had a feeling she would be taking in every stray animal off the street.

However, she was right. Jisung had been a bigger help than you had expected of a second-year commerce student. Even if it was just skimming through a finished presentation pack to fix up any typos and align text boxes, you couldn’t deny that having an extra pair of eyes and hands had made your life a little bit easier. Maybe you would even miss him once his summer placement came to an end and the semester rolled back around. As long as there weren’t too many more incidents like the one from this morning.

Speaking of this morning…

“Hey, does that mean you’ve been making yourself unavailable so you don’t have to read the—”

“Oh look! The line’s getting shorter. You should move up before someone cuts in.”

You shuffled forward, but not without throwing her a displeased look along with a grumble or two. Next time the quarterly attendance analysis rolled around, you were definitely making use of the trick she had just told you about. A quick glance up ahead. There were now three people in front of you in the line, but only one green capsule left on the rack. 

Please, caffeine gods be willing, let that last one be yours.  

“I can’t believe I told you that I thought your ex-boyfriend was super fucking hot. I feel so icky, like I’ve betrayed you somehow,” Joy said, making a face. The dimpled smile fought its way back into your consciousness, and you suppressed the twist in your stomach that seemed to accompany every recollection of it. 

“It’s honestly fine. There’s no way you could have known.” You shrugged, partly to reassure her it wasn’t a big deal, and partly to shake off that funny feeling in the pit of your stomach.

The better part of your weekend had been spent trying to make sense of the night, after battling a merlot-induced migraine for most of Saturday morning and early afternoon. Three glasses had been a necessity to get through dinner, but it was ultimately overkill. You were no longer the girl from two years ago who took advantage of her afternoon class the next day by destroying a few soju bottles with your roommates. On a weeknight, too.

Joy gave your arm a soft squeeze. “Still, I’m sorry I put you through that. Hopefully it wasn’t completely awful?”

Completely awful, it was not. Awful at some parts? Maybe. 

Truthfully, you hadn’t been prepared to see Jaehyun again. Not to say that you had never thought about it — you definitely had, running simulations through your head about how you would run into him on the street, ignore his greeting and walk past him like he didn’t even exist. But those were the musings of a heart-broken teenager, turning to spite and cheap endeavours at revenge to cope with the loss of her first love. Last Friday did have spite rearing its ugly head, but that spite was short-lived, and only one aspect that made up the whirlwind of emotions that came with seeing him again after all those years. 

“No, it wasn’t all bad,” you were about to say, when your eye was suddenly caught by a movement up ahead. 

A slender, veiny hand reached out to grab the last green pod from the coffee rack. You watched as the thief’s fingers closed around the capsule and slotted it into the machine. He pressed the lever down — because of course, it was a man. Not only was he on the better side of the gender wage gap, but he also had to be ahead of you in the caffeine race as well.

The sound of the capsule being punctured was the final blow. 

“My coffee,” you lamented under your breath.

“Have some patience,” Joy chided. “We’re nearly there. You’re like a zombie when you don’t have your little cup of bean juice.”

You shook your head glumly. “The last Peruvian. I waited for so long. It was supposed to be mine, and he took it.” 

“Who did?”

“The guy at the front.” 

Your eyes were still glued on the hand as it wrapped around the mug filled with your favourite blend, completely unaware that it had just robbed you of the only small pocket of joy you had been looking forward to all afternoon. Peering around the two people still ahead, your gaze travelled up his exposed forearm and the sleeve of the white dress shirt cuffed there. If only you could catch a glimpse of the face that had stomped all over your hopes and dreams… 

The lady in front of you shuffled closer to the coffee machine and finally cleared your line of sight. Coffee stealer’s ear came into view before his face did, and he was—

“Jaehyun?”

His name fell out of Joy’s mouth before you could even get your own to start working again and beg her not to call out to him. For a moment you were afraid you had conjured him out of thin air from the uninvited thoughts of him circling the outskirts of your mind. At least now you knew he wasn’t a hallucination.

Jaehyun’s eyebrows pinched in confusion first, then surprise, before finally smoothing over with recognition. He offered a small wave, eyes flitting from Joy over to you, and then he was walking over, and you were fighting for your life trying to mask the panic that was bubbling away inside your chest.

You shot Joy a frantic look. Why did you do that?

I don’t know! Sorry, said her returning one. The corners of her mouth were turned down in an apologetic frown, but she quickly schooled it into a smile at Jaehyun’s approach.

“I’ve never seen you on seven before,” Joy said, the spitting image of friendliness, nevermind that you were beside her and desperately looking for an exit out of the incoming conversation. “You’re always holed up somewhere on ten.”

You supposed you should have known this would happen sooner or later. Six months without running into each other when you worked at the same company, in the same building, was the exception, not the rule. You were just grateful Joy didn’t try to bring up her clever little dinner setup that had been plaguing you the entire weekend, or try and rope the two of you into awkward and unnecessary introductions.

“Someone told me I should come down and try the Nespresso machine. Apparently it’s really good,” he said, gesturing at the mug you had been staring at for the past three minutes.

“It is,” were the first two words you managed. Both pairs of eyes shifted towards you, waiting for the rest of your comment to come, but you could only disappoint, the syllables hanging thick and dumb in the air. 

There appeared to be some sort of blockage in your mouth-to-brain pipeline.

Joy cleared her throat lightly, throwing you a sideways glance. “Which one did you try? They all taste the same to me, but she only drinks the green ones,” she said, ignoring the panicked twitch of your mouth. She knew full well that he was the one you’d been staring daggers into ever since he grabbed that stupid capsule. Your stupid capsule.

Jaehyun’s eyes flicked between your face and the steaming drink in his hand a few times.

“Do you want mine? I think I might have taken the last green one.” He offered the mug to you. “I didn’t really know what to press, so it’s just a cappuccino. Regular milk. I haven’t had any yet.”

“It’s fine, you should have yours. I’ll get another one,” you politely declined. No matter how much you liked the Peruvian blend, it was not worth the charity from your ex-boyfriend. Even if it was the only thing that could get you through the rest of the afternoon. Even if he was holding the exact thing that you had been planning on getting. 

Hopefully the kitchen staff would restock those capsules by tomorrow.

The look he gave you was not a convinced one, but he didn’t push further. With your dismissal of his offer, the three of you lapsed into a sticky silence. Even Joy, who was so adept at making topics of conversation out of nothing, had little to add, passing up the challenge of pulling meaningful sentences out of your mouth. The stifling tension between you and Jaehyun must have been more powerful than you thought. 

“Shoot, I think I’m getting a Teams call,” Joy suddenly said, making a show of pulling her phone out and tapping the screen. 

Liar. She didn’t even have the app notifications turned on. 

“I should probably take this, but I’ll see the both of you later.” She flashed a contrite smile, and then she was off, almost speed-walking her way down the stairs you had come up together, all the while pressing her phone to her ear with a little too much urgency for a mid-afternoon cold call. By the look on Jaehyun’s face, he hadn’t been all that impressed by her impromptu theatrics either.

“Are you still in the line?”

“Sorry, yes,” you muttered at the woman behind you. Clearly, you were not the only one impatient for their caffeine fix. 

Finally, you were at the counter. You stared blankly at the rack of capsules. The empty space where the green ones were usually stored was glaringly obvious, jumping out at you while you skimmed through the other blends for a passable alternative. After many more seconds than would have been necessary to pick one flavour out of the remaining three, your fingers closed around a gold one. It would have to do for today. 

Jaehyun watched as you dropped the capsule into its slot and made your selections. Why he was still here with you was somewhat of a mystery. You would’ve thought that Joy’s hasty exit would have prompted him to do the same, saving the both of you from having to make bumbling small talk about the weather, or the weekend, or whatever else that two people working at the same company, with no other relational history, could talk about to fill in the silence.

Maybe he wanted to talk about the dinner bill. The fact that he had settled it, without you even noticing, had been weighing on your mind. It was less of a money thing — though you were pretty sure the total hadn’t been a modest number — than a pride thing. Being indebted to others always left a smear on your conscience. 

Being indebted to your ex-boyfriend was like someone had shit all over it.

Whatever. If he didn’t bring it up first, you would. This was the 21st century. You were both financially independent adults. Splitting the bill on a first date didn’t have to be such a contentious thing. 

Although technically, it was far from your first. And it wasn’t a date either, because you had refused to label it as such in your head.

The last few drops of milk and espresso trickled into the mug, before the machine stopped whirring altogether. You knew he was still there. You could feel his presence behind you. He had probably been waiting for the noise to stop so that you’d be able to hear him speak. Taking your mug off the stand, you turned to face him. 

“Your cardigan,” he said.

“Huh?”

Confusion splashed over you. You weren’t even wearing one today.

“I have your cardigan,” he amended. “From Friday. You left it inside the restaurant. One of the waiters brought it out, but you had left already, so I took it with me.” He scratched the back of his neck. “I have it now, if you want it back.”

“You do?” 

“I mean, it’s at my desk. I brought it in today,” he added quickly, seeing the way you were looking about his person like you were expecting it to materialise into his hands.

You blinked a few times, trying to clear the brain fog that had decided now was the perfect time to strike. “Yes, I—thank you, um, for that. I can take it off you…?” 

Had you meant to have it sound so much like a question? It seemed like your capacity for human speech was always afflicted by some sort of malfunction in his presence.

“Okay, uh, do you want to come up to my desk? I’ve got it there.”

The elevator ride up to the tenth floor was a short one. You could have taken the stairs just to get the extra steps in, but with both of you holding uncovered drinks, three flights of stairs combined with your clumsy fingers were a slip hazard just waiting to happen. Still, despite the short journey, the seconds inside the elevator seemed to drag on for much longer.

Before you could lose your nerve, you opened your mouth to crack the silence. 

“Let me pay you back for dinner.” 

Good. It sounded good. Firm, but not overbearing. Hell yeah, you were getting the hang of this conversation-with-your-ex-boyfriend thing. 

Jaehyun seemed a bit taken aback by that, turning to you slightly with surprise woven into the crease of his brow. “You really don’t need to do that,” he said after a beat.

The elevator dinged, and he stepped out through the sliding doors before you could form a coherent response. It took a second for you to follow, the coffee inside your mug almost making a dangerous appearance all over the elevator floor as you caught up with his strides. 

“Think of it as me taking care of a junior colleague. I am your senior, you know,” he said over his shoulder, a smile gracing his features at the latter part.

“Only by half a year,” you grumbled. “That doesn’t even count.” The light shake of his broad shoulders let you know he had heard your gripes over his attempts at enforcing seniority. His accompanying laugh was a soft one. You barely caught it above the noise of the tenth floor office.

The mellowed cosiness of the fifth floor HR department was hard to be found here. You were used to some chatter, with the occasional high-pitched laugh from Joy punctuating the air. On days he was feeling particularly jovial, Junmyeon could be heard humming from whichever desk he had decided to park at for the day (such was the beauty of hot-desking and hotelling). The few occasions you shared a table with him had allowed you to recognise the melody of The Beatles’ Strawberry Fields Forever — always the same song, and he hummed everything except for the words ‘strawberry fields’, which he insisted on singing, albeit softly.

Nothing about Digital was soft or cosy. Except maybe the sofa in one of the open creative spaces. The floor buzzed with activity, from the influx of incoming call ringtones to agenda-packed meetings in conference rooms. A group of people were clustered around a floor-to-ceiling whiteboard covered in diagrams that were undecipherable to you, engaged in animated conversation while pointing at various parts of the board. Some of them greeted Jaehyun as he walked past with you in tow.

“I had no idea Digital was this busy,” you mused out loud, following him as he weaved through the desks.

He chuckled lightly. “We like to talk a lot. And some of us can get a bit loud,” he said. The joking undercurrent to his voice had you thinking that the second part was said with someone in mind. “But it’s more hectic than usual. We’ve just won a really big bid and Johnny’s excited about his first time leading one of the streams.” He paused to wave and give a thumbs-up at the man standing at the very front of the whiteboard group (you assumed this was Johnny), who returned the greetings with just as much enthusiasm. 

Jaehyun had always been a people person. That was one thing that would likely never change.

The two of you arrived at his desk, a quieter one next to the windows offering an almost unobstructed view of the city. He dug around his workspace, pulling out a Jo Malone gift bag. 

“Ignore the bag,” he said, catching your wary expression. “I didn’t want to stuff it in my duffel with the rest of my gym stuff.” 

You took it from his outstretched hand, with a quick glance to check that it was in fact your cardigan. The ribbed black fabric sat inside, folded neatly over itself. 

“It got rained on quite a bit, so I washed it. I hope that’s okay.”

“Of course, that’s kind of you, Jaehyun. You didn’t have to.” For a moment, you wondered if he still used the same pine-scented laundry detergent. The smell of it used to cling to his school uniform, a burst of freshness you always sought during the muggy summer days.

“Thank you,” you said, giving him a grateful smile. “I thought I lost it for good.” In your mind, you had already made peace with the fact that you would probably see the thing ever again. Yet all weekend, it had been taking up space in Jaehyun’s hamper, uncertain as to when it would finally be able to reunite with your closet.

You gave him a careful look. 

“Did you plan on seeing me today?” you asked. 

“No. Yes. I mean—” The tips of his ears took on the faintest hint of a pink flush. “I didn’t know if I would run into you, so I’m glad I did. But otherwise, I was just going to give it to Joy and get her to pass it along to you,” he trailed off, gaze shifting sideways to the cityscape posted on the other side of the glass windows. 

Neither of you had bothered with exchanging contact details after dinner, an oversight that was more deliberate than not on your part. His re-entry into your life was something you hadn’t felt quite ready for. And yet—

“Do you want my number?”

Stupid mouth. The words were out before you even registered that you had spoken. You prayed he wouldn’t pick up on the unintended suggestion of the question, though judging by the quick raise of his left eyebrow, you weren’t the only one who realised the other possible interpretations of your words. 

“I mean, just in case something like this happens again. So you can contact me directly,” you added quickly. Heat slowly crept its way up to your cheeks. You hoped he wouldn’t notice.

“Sure,” he said, lips curling into a smile. “If that’s okay with you.” 

Considering you were the one who had said it out loud in the first place, it would have been strange if you suddenly decided it was not okay with you.

There was some fumbling with each other’s phones, before you were typing your number to add into his contacts, and he was doing the same to yours. Would he realise yours was still the same string of digits as it had been five years ago?

“Well, I’d better get going,” you said, handing back his phone. Now was as good a time to make an easy exit as any. You had planned on gossiping with Joy in the level seven kitchen for the rest of the hour, but back to your desk appeared to be the more likely destination this afternoon. 70-page files didn’t read themselves. “Thanks for the cardigan. I’ll see you later, then?”

Jaehyun looked like he had more to say, but you were already turning around, ready to leave the hubbub of the tenth floor. Ready to leave the presence of your ex-boyfriend-turned-friend? Acquaintance? You shook your head lightly. A drink was needed to unpack that box of worms.

A call of your name had you pausing mid-step.

“Your coffee,” Jaehyun said, tapping you on the shoulder to hand you your mug. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, taking it from his grasp. You hadn’t even bothered to take a sip of the non-Peruvian cappuccino, the surface still untouched. It was probably cold now. Maybe you’d pass it off to Jungwoo, this time sans the salt.

“You know, if the dinner bill thing bothers you that much, you can just make it up to me later.”

You blinked at him a few times. “Make it up to you how?”

“Ah, that’s for me to decide,” he replied, a boyish glint to his smiling eyes. Both his dimples popped out, and you found yourself unable to choose which one to focus on. 

Then he was moving, and you were left staring at the broad expanse of his back as he walked away. Head full of thoughts wondering what the hell kind of favour he would now hold over your head, you almost walked straight into Jungwoo as you came out of the elevator.

“Hey, I got a Nespresso from seven. You want it?” you asked, offering him the coffee you stopped yourself from spilling all over him. He eyed the mug apprehensively.

“You put salt in it again, didn’t you?”

“No? Where did you even get that from? Hang on, how do you know it was me?”

Jungwoo sucked in a breath through his teeth. “So it was you! I knew it! You know, you really are a scary woman,” he grumbled. “Who ever would have thought an evil spirit lurked behind such a kind face?”

“So that’s a no to the coffee?”

“I don’t trust you anymore, so no.”

“Suit yourself,” you shrugged, making your way back to your desk. The attendance reports stared back at you as you logged into the monitor, drawing a sigh out of you. You took a sip of the coffee.

And frowned.

You brought the mug to your mouth again. Like the first sip, the second was also lukewarm. But like the first sip, the second also tasted exactly the same as your usual Peruvian blend. Maybe there really was no difference between all the different coloured capsules, you thought, skimming through page 33 of the file.

That thing about realisation never being on time? Still true.

On the subway ride home, gripping the handle with all your might while sandwiched between two middle-aged men in stuffy suits, it dawned on you.

Jaehyun had given you his coffee instead.

“Thanks everyone for dialling in today. We’ll chat soon.”

The screen reverted back to its default background as the call ended, and you let out a sound somewhere in between a groan and a whimper. Junmyeon did not look to be faring any better, head in his hands while his elbows rested on the meeting room table.

“Can somebody please tell Jackson and the rest of the Marketing heads that Summer Fridays doesn’t mean they can just take Fridays completely off?” he groaned, the sounds escaping through the gaps in his fingers. “Our absenteeism looks like it’s at an all time high. Nayeon, you’re friendly with him, aren’t you?”

The girl pressed at her temples. “I mean, we were in the same advertising and PR club back in university, if that counts for anything. But yeah, I’ll schedule some time with him and go over it.”

“Great, thank you,” Junmyeon sighed, throwing his head back. “Alright, I’ll send around a debrief email later this afternoon. Thanks everyone for your time.”

You didn’t have to be told twice. A second later and you were out of the eighth floor Marketing meeting room, already on your way to the Nespresso machine downstairs. Another coffee at 4pm was slightly pushing it, but you needed a pick-me-up urgently to wash away the gruelling two hours spent going through company policy with Marketing.

The buzz of your phone was a momentary distraction from your mission. 

It was a message from Jaehyun. Something silly in response to a text you had sent earlier in the day. 

jaehyun [04:07 pm]: in dire need of a fake mango right now jaehyun [04:07 pm]: mmm fake mango milkshake

The smile that crept up onto your face was almost like a reflex in the way it couldn’t be helped.

Now that you were acquainted again, it was like you saw him everywhere. How you had managed to completely avoid each other for the last half a year or so was a fascinating mystery. Some mornings you’d run into him in the building lobby. He’d hold the elevator doors open for you, and you’d exchange pleasantries on the ride up to the fifth floor, where you’d get off and bid him goodbye, or see you later. And see him later you did. Whether it was at the seventh floor coffee machine, or in line at the cafeteria on twelve, the sight of his face had become a nice interruption to the hours spent at a monitor, or in a call like the one you had just escaped.

He would come down to the fifth floor sometimes, stopping by Joy’s desk or yours to say hello and have a chat if you weren’t busy. You found yourself wishing he would spend less time with Joy than he did with you — not because you wanted to see him more (because that was absolutely not the reason at all), but because he was steadily gaining a lead over you in the Joy friendship competition. The three of you had spent a few lunch breaks at the cafeteria together, granted that your schedules matched, with an odd appearance from Jungwoo every now and again.

You saw more of Johnny (loud) and Mark (louder), Jaehyun’s friends from Digital who you’d normally hear before you’d see them. Johnny was his “beloved coffee mate” (Jaehyun’s exact words) and possibly the only other person in the building who cared about the green Peruvian capsules as much as you did. Mark was… Mark, for lack of a better description. There was nobody the boy couldn’t strike a conversation with. If he really needed to, you suspected he could probably get along with a wet paper towel. 

You had been offered an invitation to join the three of them for one of their weekly lunches outside the company building. Johnny was more than happy to let you know he was somewhat of an expert at finding the hottest eats in the area, having put half his floor onto the cold noodle place he had sought out at the start of the month. And laugh as you had when he proudly told you about it, Johnny’s influence was no joke. News of the restaurant had somehow trickled its way down to HR, with Junmyeon just the other day asking around the team if anyone had tried the place before. 

Perhaps you’d join them next week. It was always nice to be ahead of the trend. 

You arrived at the seventh floor kitchen and sighed. The rack was out of green capsules again. Although, maybe that was to be expected. It was nearing the end of the day, and the gold capsules were finished too. So much for a 4pm pick-me-up, you thought, though it might have been for the better — too much caffeine in one day always made you a bit antsy and had your resting heart rate up in the high 80s. 

With empty hands and a pout on your lips, you made your way back to the fifth floor. 

Joy’s eyes were glued to her screen when you walked past her. “Jaehyun stopped by while you were in that Marketing call,” she said without looking at you, squinting at a spreadsheet. 

“Did he?” you replied, trying your best at nonchalance despite the little flip of your stomach. 

“Are you talking about her handsome friend from Digital?” Jungwoo peered around the table with a playful grin on his face. 

You were back on good terms now, thanks to your promise to pay for his lunch from the cafeteria for a whole week to make up for the coffee incident. The look in his eyes right now had you thinking life was better that week where he had been afraid of you.

“Yeah, that’s the one,” Joy said distractedly in between clicks of her keyboard. “Jisung, can you just double check these numbers for me? I’m in the second tab of the Excel file.” 

The intern was quick to comply. You had a feeling she was his favourite senior. 

“Anyways, I think he left you something.”

You made your way over to your desk, ignoring Jungwoo’s oohs and ahs. Sure enough, there was something sitting next to your diary and the three empty glasses you hadn’t had the chance to rinse out yet.

It was a coffee capsule. Specifically, it was a green coffee capsule. 

There was a sticky note stuck to the back of it, which you turned around to read. His handwriting was still identical to that of the silly little notes he used to leave in the margins of your home economics workbook. 

saved this last one from johnny’s clutches. enjoy ^.^

Despite the jitters from the end-of-day caffeine fix, you smiled the whole way home.

“I’ve found a way you can make it up to me.”

You pulled the phone away from your ear to check the screen. 9:34 am. The Saturday morning still had you in its clutches, and it took a few seconds to process the sounds you were hearing. 

“Who is this?” you croaked, sleep lacing your voice. 

“It’s Jaehyun.” 

You sat up a little straighter against the pillows. “Jaehyun?” you echoed. 

“Yes, it’s me. Do you not check the caller ID before you answer?”

You grumbled something about it being too early on the weekend to have your head screwed on properly, to which he laughed, a vivid sound even through the phone. 

“Do you have plans later today?”

You hesitated. Technically, no, unless a hot date with Netflix and whatever leftover snacks you could find in your pantry counted as plans. You were due for a grocery trip soon. The three eggs and single sprig of spring onion in your fridge would not last for long. Cooking had never been something you enjoyed, especially not after a full work day, and yet living alone required so much of it. You didn’t want to make up a non-existent dinner reservation, partly because you knew he’d be able to tell the untruth just by listening to your voice, and partly because something unpleasant niggled at your insides at the thought of lying just to avoid him.  

“Why, what’s up?” you asked instead.

“Well, you know that jazz festival?” You gave an affirmative hum. “I have tickets for today. Mark and I were supposed to go together, but he just called me saying he can’t make it. Something about a leak in his apartment from all the rain. So…”

You stifled a yawn. “So?” Your brain was still trying to catch up with the land of the awake and living. 

“Come with me?”

The words took a while and a few blinks to register. When they did, your first instinct was to say no. Jaehyun was fine in small doses. A quick chat over coffee, sporadic texts throughout the day, conversation within the safety of a group setting — these were all fine. Manageable. Nice, even. But Jaehyun in the flesh, outside of the office, with nobody else around to buffer the strange sort of tension that seemed to always thrum between the two of you — that was an entirely different ball game altogether. Sometimes, a mere run-in was enough to have your heart going a little faster than usual, nerves lighting up at the unexpected sight of his face. 

“I am not above begging. Please don’t make me go to this thing by myself.”

And yet, there was a flicker of something pleasant and sweet, something akin to excitement that curbed the nervous flutter in your gut. You were fifteen again, waiting outside the movie theatre, a little too giddy at the thought of spending time with the boy whose sweet smile had become the cause of your stomach somersaults. And that was before you had even admitted to yourself that you liked him, as more than a friend. 

“What time is it?” you found yourself asking.

So maybe you were seriously considering it. You had been meaning to put that new film camera to use. The thing had been collecting dust in one of your drawers ever since you bought it on a whim one night scrolling through Pinterest. Somehow, the rows of tables and monitors in the office didn’t seem like the most interesting camera subjects compared to the scenes of concerts and beach bonfires that had driven your impulsive purchase. 

“Well, the doors open at 11, but the first performer is at 12. And Lauv’s set isn’t until later in the evening.”

“Lauv is performing?” Your voice had gone up almost an octave, but you couldn’t care enough to be embarrassed. This was a crucial piece of information. Now you had to be there. 

He laughed. “So is that a yes?”

“Yes. Yes, it’s a yes.” The covers were flipped off your legs in an instant.

It wasn’t that Jaehyun looked bad in slacks and a dress shirt. That was not the case at all. But you had grown used to them on him over the last few weeks, and the sight of his long legs in a pair of well-fitting trousers no longer caused a spike in your heart rate. 

Jaehyun in casual clothes outside the office was uncharted territory. 

The midday sun was strong outside the subway station. Clad in a black graphic tee over a pair of baggy green cargos, Jaehyun stood idly at the entrance, face hidden by the brown baseball cap on his head and eyes trained on his phone. How someone could look so gorgeous in something so ordinary was a secret only he knew the truth of. He caught sight of you from across the road, waiting for the pedestrian light, and raised his hand in a wave. 

“It’s different seeing you out of your work clothes,” he said. 

“Different good or different bad?”

A soft smile grazed his lips. “Just different. You look younger.”

“So do you,” you replied. 

You look like the boy I was in love with all those years ago. 

“Did you taxi?”

“No, I took the bus. There’s one that goes straight from my building. I didn’t know you lived around here,” you mused to yourself.

“My place is really close.” He pointed somewhere behind him. “Five minutes that way, tops. You should come over sometime.”

A slight pause. Jaehyun’s eyes flitted down to the pavement. You weren’t sure if the heat in your cheeks was from the sun or something else entirely. 

“Anyway,” he cleared his throat, “we should probably go. It takes 40 minutes to get there, so if we leave now we should be able to catch the 1pm.”

The subway on the weekend was nowhere near as awful as it usually was during the weekday rush hours, but packed nonetheless. You definitely preferred being stuck in a carriage full of bright-eyed and chattering teenagers than the usual crowd of solemn-faced office workers. When a seat finally freed up, Jaehyun was quick to offer it to you, manoeuvring himself so that he could stand in front of you as you sat down. Toe to toe, the tips of his shoes grazed yours, and you were suddenly reminded of study periods at the library. The two of you could never agree on who first started the game of footsie under the desk.

“See those girls over there?” you asked quietly, nodding towards a group of likely high schoolers down the other end of the carriage. Jaehyun turned his head to follow your gaze, catching sight of the girls who immediately erupted in whispers and giggles upon making eye contact with him. “They’ve been staring at you for the last two stops.”

He was quick to turn back towards you, nose scrunching and slightly embarrassed. “Kids these days are so weird,” he said with a soft groan. “Why are they doing that?”

“You know they’re only staring because you’re handsome.” 

Despite the pinkness of his ears, he was smiling wide. “You think I’m handsome?”

You blinked up at him. “I didn’t say that.” Did I? “I meant they probably think you’re handsome. Which is why they’re staring. You know. It’s nice to look at good-looking people.” 

The rushed explanations did nothing to shake the feeling that you had slipped-up somehow, and he had caught it. Jaehyun’s dimples only deepened at your backtracking.

“You know what I mean,” you finally huffed, biting back a smile at the deep sound of his responding laugh. “Whatever. I think this is our stop.”

The festival couldn’t have picked a better day to be held. The skies were clear and blue, and the air carried a light breeze that provided a welcome relief from the heavy stickiness of midsummer. It was a nice change from the sporadic rainstorms that had plagued the city over the last two weeks or so. Mark’s leaking apartment was proof of the temperamental weather. If you had one bone to pick, the sun was a tad strong, but that was to be expected. You had come prepared, tugging the bucket hat down further to cover your face. 

Alaina Castillo’s set was well underway by the time you and Jaehyun made your way into the venue grounds. A decent amount of people had already arrived, trickling in to fill up the gated area in front of the main stage. The two of you filed in with the rest, finding a place towards the back of the growing crowd where there was ample room to breathe without inhaling someone else’s breath. 

You had never been one for being stuck in a swarm of people. A harsh reminder of why that was the case appeared when, out of nowhere, a stranger’s elbow dug into your arm, knocking you sideways in their determined path towards the barricade. 

The steadying hand around your shoulder was instantaneous. 

“Are you okay?” Jaehyun asked, and you mumbled something affirmative in reply, trying not to dwell too much on the warmth of his skin on your bare arm. His eyes followed the stranger who was still pushing on through the crowd in front. “People really need to watch where they’re going,” he muttered, brows drawn together in a frown.

The rest of the afternoon proceeded more smoothly. It was a little unsettling how normal and nice everything felt. Jaehyun kept close to you for the sets that followed, the distance between the two of you gradually shrinking as the crowd grew in size. The occasional brush of your forearms as you moved to the music was no longer something to jump at like you had the first time it had happened. You managed to snap a few pictures on your almost-new film camera, mostly of the artist performing, but there was one of you in there somewhere amidst the stage shots, taken by an insistent and smiley Jaehyun during one of the set breaks. 

“So this is why you wanted someone to come with you,” you said, sliding onto the bench and passing him one of the burgers from the food truck.

“It’s so much more efficient when you can line up for two things at once. If I was by myself, I’d either wait for the beer and let my burger get soggy, or wait for the burger and let my beer get warm and flat. This way the food is fresh, and our drinks are ice cold out of the fridge.”

You cracked a smile. “And here I thought you called me because you enjoyed my company.”

“I do enjoy your company,” he said without missing a beat. “The other stuff is just an added plus.”

You took a sip of the cold beer, hoping it would stave off the quick flush of your cheeks. Jaehyun said things so easily. Too easily. It was harder and harder to adhere to that invisible boundary you had been so adamant on protecting. 

Why were you so reluctant to let him back in? Why all the walls? He made it too easy for thoughts like that to creep in and loiter in the back of your mind. 

Evening had begun to settle, the brightness of the midday sky fading away to a twinkling twilight blue over your heads. The music was quieter at the picnic tables by the tents, where festival-goers sought respite from the main stage crowds with a cold beverage and something greasy. Between mouthfuls of an early makeshift dinner, you and Jaehyun sat in your own bubble, comfortably falling into conversation about the performances throughout the day, or whatever else happened to be on your minds.  

“Your mouth opens so wide,” you said, watching as he all but inhaled half the burger in one go. His nose scrunched up as he tried to take the massive bite, and the sight of it was such a far cry from his usual cool guy image that you couldn’t pass up the opportunity to snap a picture of it. The click of the shutter had him looking up at you mid-chew with a dismayed expression.

“That’s not fair. You attacked when I wasn’t ready!”

“I’d hardly call that an attack,” you said, not without a smile. “I was just getting a candid.”

He wiped his fingers on the napkin. “Okay, my turn then,” he said, gesturing for you to hand the camera over. You obliged, letting him point the lens at you and fiddle with the knobs along the top. His slender fingers navigated the controls with a practised ease.

“Relax,” he added softly, noticing your fidgeting. Twenty-something years, and you had made little progress in mastering the art of posing for photos. “Pretend the camera’s not here, and it’s just you and me.”

Right. Like that was supposed to make you loosen up.

“I actually used to be really into photography. Got pretty good at it too,” he said.

“Really? I don’t remember that.”

“Picked it up in uni,” he explained. “Had all this free time on my hands and didn’t know what to do with it. Besides drinking.” A pause. “Honestly, first year second semester was pretty rough after… you know.”

The last part caught you somewhat off-guard. After that fateful April night, you had always assumed Jaehyun was off living his best life, blowing through society events with the new friends he had made, maybe even letting a few of them warm his bed now that you weren’t around. It wouldn’t have been the biggest surprise. Even at nineteen, Jaehyun’s good looks were uncontested. His sweet and attentive personality was the cherry on top of an already delectable cake. Whatever he got up to when the sun set, you were none the wiser, having completely wiped his existence from your phone by the time your first semester exam period rolled around. 

Though you didn’t go as far as to block his number, he never reached out, and so Jeong Jaehyun became a relic of the past, embracing his newfound freedom now that he had shed himself of you, his unwanted baggage.

Or so you thought.

“But yeah,” he continued, “I started getting into photography. Burnt a hole in my wallet trying out a bunch of different cameras,” he said with a chuckle. “I liked film the most though, I think. It’s the only one I still use now.” 

“What do you like about it?”

He took a moment, pausing in thought. “The colours, mostly. How it’s a bit muted, it has that vintage feeling.” You hummed in agreement. “Selfies on a film camera are fun as well.”

“You must really like looking at yourself,” you teased, enjoying the sight of his ears flushing with colour from where they poked out above the camera.

“Not like that,” he said in reply to the raise of your eyebrows. “It’s more like… when you take a selfie on film, you can’t see yourself, right? Whether the focus is focusing, or if the angle is right.

“Or if your whole face is actually in the shot, not just your right eye.”

“Exactly. But then taking the picture anyway. That’s what I like.” He pulled away from the camera to flash you a small smile. “Isn’t it funny, the way we try so hard to capture moments of time?”

Jaehyun’s attention returned to the viewfinder, leaving you to quietly dwell on his words. How else could one keep a piece of time stored away if not through photos? And yet, photography would never be able to capture the entirety of a moment the way a memory could. The sound of the band’s bass guitar from the side stage in the adjacent garden. The smell of summer carried by the evening breeze as it ruffled through his hair.

The warm feeling in your chest as you sat across from him at this wooden picnic bench, surrounded by people, sharing wistful conversation and a basket of fries. 

The feeling of coming home.

The shutter clicked.

“Got it. That last one is going to turn out so nice.” Jaehyun smiled triumphantly, cheeks dimpling. “If you make this your profile picture you have to add the ‘photo by’. I need my credits.”

You blinked away the precarious thoughts. “Alright, mister photographer man, give it back now. Don’t use up all my film before Lauv.”

He handed the camera back to you, looking very pleased with himself. The light from the nearby tents cast a dusky glow over his face. Jaehyun from Digital was sharp and polished. The Jaehyun before you now, with his hair dishevelled from taking off the cap earlier, was softer, more open, and more subtle in the way he had slipped under your defences and picked the locks chained around your heart. 

The question now was whether you’d let him in further than you already had.

He tugged at his collar. “God, it’s still muggy at night, isn’t it?” 

“You stay here, I’ll get us some more beers,” you said, already standing up.

If anything, you were grateful for the errand, a welcome distraction from the tumultuous battle between your heart and your head that always forged on at any thought of him. The line for the bar was no shorter than it had been half an hour ago, to nobody’s surprise (this was a festival in Seoul, of course the queues would be severe) and it was a while before the two cold plastic cups were in your hands. 

The short time away from him had given you the space to steer your mindset back onto the charted platonic course. A little voice in the back of your mind objected, and was making a damn convincing argument about why you should be more inclined to go beyond plain friendship with Jaehyun, but you chose to ignore it, suppressing the nagging with a deep breath and a smile that you hoped looked less conflicted than how you felt. Beers in hand, you carefully made your way back to the picnic table — only to be met with a rather interesting sight.

Jaehyun was still where you had left him, thankfully. But the two girls that now stood around him were a new addition. 

“Hey,” you greeted, tapping him on the shoulder to pass him one of the beers. The taller girl visibly deflated when he flashed you a grateful smile, taking the plastic cup from your hand. The shorter one, however, ran her eyes up and down your figure with an almost calculating gaze.

“Is this your friend?” the shorter one asked, question directed at Jaehyun.

“Uh, yeah, um—hi,” you answered very eloquently, introducing yourself. You tossed a glance between Jaehyun and the two girls. “Do you um—are you guys friends?”

“Well, no, not really. Minjeong and Jimin just came—”

“We were actually going to ask if you guys wanted to join us up closer to the main stage?” the shorter one (Minjeong perhaps?) asked, flashing a sweet smile you suspected was more for Jaehyun’s benefit than yours. “We have a blanket and a few chairs set up, so you can sit and watch the closing set. It’s much more comfortable than standing inside the barricade.”

“Jaehyun looked a little lonely by himself,” the taller one added.

Lonely because you left him for ten minutes to go get some cold drinks? These girls were unbelievable.

“What do you say? Want to join us?”

Maybe you should’ve taken the group of highschoolers on the subway earlier more seriously as a forewarning. Not that you had any say in what Jaehyun could and could not do — he was his own person, and the closest thing you had to a claim on him had disintegrated years ago. If he wanted to go hang out with pretty strangers, he could go and do exactly that, and you didn’t have to follow him either. The invitation had clearly been meant for him more than it had been for you.

So what if you had been looking forward to enjoying the last set together? You were a big girl. You could brave the main stage crowds by yourself if you had to.

Jaehyun glanced at you, searching your eyes while you tried your best to keep your face neutral and devoid of the uneasy thoughts bubbling away beneath your skin. He was his own person. He could make his own choices. 

After a second or two, he seemed to find what he was looking for, and turned back to the two expectant girls with a polite smile. “We’ll take our chances with the pit,” he answered. “But thank you for the offer. That’s kind of you guys.”

The two girls made their exit shortly afterwards, but not without a final look at him, and a decidedly less enthusiastic one at you. It was quiet for a few moments, the two of you sipping on your beers without a word, waiting for the other to speak.

“You could have gone with them if you wanted to,” you finally mumbled, eyes fixed on the contents of your cup.

To your surprise, Jaehyun let out a soft chuckle. “I don’t know if you noticed, but I’m pretty sure Minjeong had an engagement ring on her finger.”

“Oh, what?” 

You definitely had not noticed, too occupied by the saccharine looks she was throwing his way.

“Yeah. It was a pretty big diamond too. I think she must have forgotten to take it off today.”

You turned to look at him then. Jaehyun already had his eyes on you, sporting a lazy grin. “Come on, you can’t think I’m the type to mess around with married women?”

“That’s not what I—I didn’t know—”

“Don’t worry,” he interjected. “You’re still cute when you’re jealous.”

The quick heat rising to your face dispelled any of the remaining nonchalance in your expression. “I wasn’t—I’m not jealous,” you spluttered. “I was just worried—I mean, not worried,” you paused, sighing. “I thought you’d leave me.”

His eyes sought out yours, keeping them captive once they grabbed a hold. 

“I wouldn’t leave you.”

The teasing brevity to his voice had disappeared. Somehow, you had the feeling he wasn’t simply talking about the jazz festival. The sincerity in his gaze made it hard to look away, but you had to, in the name of self preservation. Too long staring into those brown eyes was an unnecessary test of the upper limits of your heart rate. 

“Maybe she came with her husband. He could be up there on that picnic mat, waiting for her.”

He laughed, throwing his head back. “Trust me, if her husband was here, she would not have been looking at me like that.”

To their credit though, finding a spot to watch the main stage proved to be rather difficult now that everyone had arrived to catch the final act. For a moment you considered leaving the pit to take the two girls up on their offer. But with Jaehyun by your side, you were able to navigate the crowds with a bit more peace of mind, his presence a solid and comforting anchor within the sea of people. A few rogue pushes here and there had you stumbling — and perhaps the two beers on a rather empty stomach were coming on faster than you had expected — but he was there, steadying you with a gentle hand around your arm, or the light press of his firm chest against your back.

And maybe you leaned into him for longer than necessary to regain your balance, but was that really a crime? To enjoy the touch of a friend? Was it a crime for warmth to pool in the pit of your stomach at the sight of him swaying along to Lauv’s Enemies?

No, the little voice in your head denied forcefully. Jaehyun grooving to the music had always been one of your weaknesses. 

As the closing chords of Paris in the Rain sounded out across the venue, you pulled out your film camera.

“Walking down an empty street.”

A gentle nudge of Jaehyun’s shoulder had him turning towards you, nose scrunched in a happy half-laugh from watching the performance. You moved to face the back of the crowd and raised the camera high, pointing it towards the two of you. 

Was the stage in the shot? Was Lauv? 

Were you?

“Puddles underneath our feet.”

Call it courage, or liquid courage, or just plain recklessness on your part. Rising up on your tiptoes, you pressed your cheek to his, and clicked the shutter button. 

The final chord of the song struck, softly, like an afterthought, and the crowd burst into appreciative hoots and applause, marking the end of the performance.

You were beaming as you turned back towards him. “Do you think I got that one?”

Jaehyun simply stared at you, lips parted and turned up slightly at the corners. He looked more caught off-guard than he had when you had told him you thought all the Cigarettes After Sex songs sounded the same. You felt the glowing smile on your face slip, little by little, as you let his eyes roam your features, gaze indecipherable. They flitted to your lips, and for a second you were sure you stopped breathing.

Just do it! Just fucking do it! screamed that little voice in the back of your mind.

And perhaps you would’ve done it too, whatever it was, if it weren’t for the shove from behind that sent you almost face-planting into his chest.

“What the hell?” you yelped, whipping your head around. 

What was with the people here today? You never thought jazz lovers could be so aggressive and insensitive to others’ personal space. Trying to find the perpetrator was a futile task, since the crowd had started to disperse following the end of the performance, moving in all directions.

Jaehyun looked over you with concern, the earlier expression on his face now gone. 

“Come on,” he finally said, fingers gently circling around your wrist. “Let’s get out of here before we get trampled by the crowd.”

Overhead, the blue-black sky that had been so cooperative for the whole day emitted a low rumble, as if to emphasise Jaehyun’s words. Sure enough, by the time the two of you arrived at the station, it had started to sprinkle. Perhaps the clouds had been holding back the rain until the very end of the festival. How considerate of them, you thought.

The ride back into the city felt shorter than the one to the venue, though it couldn’t have been. Saturday nights were even busier than the weekday rush hour, with people young and old out and about, ready to tame the weekend with sheer determination and a bottle of soju in the stomach. This time, there were no free seats in your carriage, but you didn’t mind. Standing with Jaehyun, your heads pressed together to go through the videos in his camera roll, made the time pass faster. There was something to his photos, you decided. Something in the angle, or the light, or the composition, that made them look nicer than the ones on your phone. Maybe you ought to take a photography course too.

The clouds may have been considerate enough for the festival to hold off dumping their contents during the day, but they certainly were not for the two of you tonight. Standing under cover at the subway station exit, you watched as the torrential deluge only seemed to worsen. Thunder cracked angrily through the air. It wasn’t July without the threat of flash flooding. 

“Any drivers around?” Jaehyun asked.

You gave a sad shake of your head. “Nobody’s picking up my request. Must be because of the rain,” you muttered. Overhead, the sky split open with a strike of lightning, startling you, and you jumped back a bit, further into the covered area of the exit.

“How about the bus?”

“I think I just missed one,” you answered, checking the timetable on your phone. “It says the next isn’t for another twenty minutes. But with the rain, it might be delayed even longer.”

You flicked through the taxi app, then the bus timetable app, and then finally back to the weather app, which you always seemed to forget to check on days like this. Three consecutive 100% signs stared back at you, and you let out a sigh. The sky would not be clearing up anytime soon.

“My apartment is only two streets down, if you want somewhere to wait out the rain,” he said.

You looked up at him. The smile on his face was guileless, but at the same time, there was something guarded about it, like he was expecting your rejection. Perhaps you had studied his face for too long, because then he was shifting his weight from one foot to the other, and averting his eyes to the ground.

“Or you don’t have to, we could just—”

“Okay,” you said.

His head shot back up. “Okay?”

You shrugged, a smile finding its way to your lips. “I’d rather not be soaking wet on the bus.”

“Okay,” he repeated, corners of his mouth turning upwards to mirror yours. “To my place, then.”

The usual five minute walk to Jaehyun’s apartment from the subway station turned into a two-and-a-half minute mad dash under the downpour. Despite your attempts at keeping to storefront shelters and ducking under the cover of big trees, the short trip had ended up with the both of you drenched to the bone, teeth chattering as you dripped rainwater all over his lobby.

You said a silent apology to the building cleaners. 

It was a relief to be dry again. Jaehyun’s sweats swamped you, the French terry fabric pooling around your feet as you sat on the couch in his living room. The top was no better, reaching almost to your knees, with the sleeves completely covering your fingertips. His clothes weren’t always this big on you. At least he still used the same pine-scented laundry detergent. 

The sound of the running shower blended smoothly with the raindrops pelting violently against the balcony window. You wrung your hands, unsure of what to do while you waited for him to come out of the bathroom. It was easy to feel out of place in a home foreign to you. The sleek furniture and minimalist colour palette of the apartment looked nothing like Jaehyun’s childhood bedroom. 

Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to come to his place. While you were pretty sure he hadn’t invited you up with any ulterior motives in mind, there was still something ambiguous about being in your ex-boyfriend’s home and wearing his clothes. And only his clothes. 

You would have liked to keep your undergarments on, but they had also been soaked through. Going bare in these too-big sweats had seemed the less questionable option, compared to sitting with a wet patch around your butt and crotch. Heat flooded your face as you thought about your underwear and bra hanging on the heated towel rack in the bathroom. 

Whatever. It wasn’t like they were things he’d never seen before. And as for his clothes, of course you’d wash them before giving them back to him. 

It was then that you decided that you had enough of sitting around in a puddle of fabric and your own thoughts. Jaehyun’s living room wasn’t all that big, even if it felt roomier than your own, with enough space to fit a decently-sized couch and small coffee table. The tv on the far wall sat atop a rather large entertainment unit that, upon further inspection, also housed a record player and an impressive collection of vinyls. 

You padded over, eyes flicking through the various titles printed on the covers. One of them had been taken out from the shelf and sat splayed on top of the cabinet. Maybe he had meant to play it, or just forgotten to put it away. Slowly, you let a finger trace around the edge of the jacket and over the black lettering of the title. You’d recognise that white album cover anywhere.

Only you knew how much effort it had taken to source the thing, scouring auction sites and dodgy online stores until you finally bit the bullet and ordered it from a reasonable-looking seller with a 4.7 star rating. But it had all been worth it. The unadulterated joy on Jaehyun’s face as he undid the wrapping paper to reveal Frank Ocean’s Blonde was not something you could easily forget. Later, you found out that it had probably been a bootleg, since the official Blonde vinyls were a limited release, but he had hardly batted an eye when you broke the news.

“Still my favourite birthday present that anyone’s gotten me,” Jaehyun said. 

Dressed in a plain white tee and a pair of grey sweatpants, he leant against the bathroom door, surveying you with an easy smile. You must not have heard the shower turn off, the noise drowned out by the storm raging outside. His hair, still damp from the shower, hung over his eyes, and you watched as he brushed it back with his right hand, arm flexing with the movement.

The sudden flare in your lower belly was something you’d rather not feel, alone in these four walls with him, with nobody else around to witness or put a stop to whatever might follow. You’d like to think self control was something you had a firm grip on, but it seemed Jaehyun was made to put you to the test.

“Actually think it might be my favourite present ever,” he added, pushing off the door frame. He reached you in a few strides, maintaining a polite distance between your bodies.

“I didn’t even realise you still had this,” you murmured, letting him take the record from your hands. You tried not to flinch at the brush of his fingers against yours. “You didn’t even have one of these back then,” you said, lightly tapping the case of the record player.

“I changed my mind, actually. The turntable is my favourite present.”

An unfamiliar twinge of dread zipped through you. “Who gave it to you?” 

Could it be an ex-lover’s gift sitting on display in his living room? That did not sit nicely in your stomach.

“Myself.” 

He was holding back a laugh, eyes squeezed into crescent moons and too busy appreciating his own joke to catch the quick roll of your eyes. Instantly, your chest felt a little lighter, and the dread vanished as quickly as it had come on.

“Here, let me put it on,” he said, shuffling over towards you to lift up the case on the record player. With gentle fingers and a delicateness you didn’t see often, he unsleeved the record and carefully placed it on the turntable. A few fiddles with the side knobs and a precise adjustment of the needle arm later, the opening bars of Frank Ocean’s Pink and White filled the air of his living room.

For a minute, there were no words exchanged, the two of you simply content to enjoy the music as it filtered through the speakers. There was a quiet smile on Jaehyun’s face. You wondered if he, like you, was thinking of the last time you had listened to this album together.

The image of the two of you, sprawled out on his bed, sharing a pair of wired earphones, was hard to shake. It had been early evening, or nearly twilight. Sometime before sunset. The reflection on the ceiling of his childhood bedroom had changed along with the sky, until the only light left in the room was the dim blue glow from the laptop on his desk. At his mother’s call for dinner, he had gently shaken you awake, fingers light on your shoulder and against your cheek. 

Jaehyun was undoubtedly handsome in the light. But there was something about dusk and the softness of the shadows on his face that made him all the more compelling. You usually weren’t one to initiate, so the kiss you pressed to his mouth in the barely-lit room had surprised you both. 

Even now, the thought strangely sent a flood of heat to your cheeks.

“Sorry, did you want something to eat? I haven’t been a very good host.”

The grumble of your stomach answered before you could. You bit back an embarrassed smile, but Jaehyun was not so frugal with his amusement, letting out a short chuckle. Your feet followed him as he made his way to the kitchen. Perched on the marble countertop, you watched as he rummaged through the fridge.

“I have eggs, yesterday’s leftovers, and a shit ton of beer cans,” he announced. 

You exchanged a glance.

“Let’s do ramen, actually. That sounds better.” He bent down to dig through the pantry, pulling out two red packets, before moving back to the fridge and getting two eggs. “I can crack these in too, and—why are you looking at me like that?”

It was your turn to laugh, the wide grin on your face a contrast to the cautious smile on his.

“Are we having ramen?”

His brow creased a little. “I thought you liked ramen?” The innocent tilt of his head made him all the more endearing to look at.

“I do, but… did you really invite me back to your place… to have ramen?”

It took a few seconds for the ball to drop. You held back giggles as his ears flushed hotly, as they always seemed to do on the occasions you decided to indulge yourself and tease him.

“Come on, that’s not—you’re doing it on purpose,” he said, bottom lip jutting out with the suggestion of a pout. Despite his grumbles, the shape of his mouth slowly settled into a defeated smile at your visible glee of having flustered him. 

Jaehyun, soft-spoken and easy-going, was not the type to be easily ruffled. You excelled and enjoyed the challenge of it more than most.

“No,” he said once your laughter had somewhat subsided, voice low and velvety. “But I wouldn’t be opposed.”

And suddenly it wasn’t so funny anymore.

The silence that followed was a loud one. It was hard to ignore the way your mouth dried up at his words. Something warm and tingly spread from your stomach all the way down to your toes as you stood there under his level gaze, eyes drawn to his like magnets. He had to know. The effect his words had on you were surely plastered all over your face, obvious in the tight grip of your fingers against the countertop and the shortening of your breaths.

Jaehyun leaned in a little closer and you felt the inhale stick in the back of your throat. Then he cracked a crooked smile, pretty teeth all on display. 

“Don’t dish it out if you can’t take it.”

He moved away then, busying himself with pouring water into a pot and bringing it to a boil while you tried to blink yourself out of the daze. “Ramen okay?” he asked over his shoulder.

You cleared your dry throat, somehow finding your voice again. “Ramen is fine. Thank you,” you added after a beat. You took a deep breath, waiting for the rush of blood to drain from your face. 

Something sour settled in your chest — something akin to disappointment, though surely it couldn’t be. Disappointed that what? Jaehyun wasn’t actually sexually attracted to you? When you were obviously still attracted to him, despite all your attempts at convincing yourself you weren’t?

You scoffed to yourself. As if.

A quick shake of your head was almost enough to clear your mind, save for the remnants of that sour feeling that lingered. You asked if there was anything you could do to help, not wanting to simply sit around on your thumbs and wait to be fed. He had insisted you do exactly that, warning you there was only enough space in the kitchen for one, and assuring that there was nothing he needed from you besides patience and faith in his cooking. 

Patience you could give him. Faith was a little harder to muster, given your memories of the kitchen disaster from when he had tried to make okonomiyaki. 

The questionable, half-burnt half-uncooked taste was one thing. You finding random pieces of cabbage on the tiled floor for days afterwards was another thing entirely.

However, it seemed Jaehyun had improved from his old ways. The steaming pot he brought over to the coffee table not only smelled delicious, but looked the part too. You helped carry over the small bowls and chopsticks, along with two cans of beer, despite his requests for you to just sit and be ready to eat.

You took the first bite, blowing on the noodles to cool them down before slurping them into your mouth. All the while, he watched you, an expectant expression painting his face. 

“Wow. You’ve grown up, Jeong Jaehyun. Who would’ve guessed you’d become such a whiz in the kitchen?” 

He smiled, a bashful one at your compliment. “Being able to cook ramen is nothing impressive,” he said, digging in with his own chopsticks.

“There was no way you could have made this for me when we were 17. Look at this egg!” The centre was perfectly soft, not too runny, but not rock hard either. Just the way you liked them. 

You took another mouthful. “You’re a changed man,” you said. “Honestly, your place is a lot cleaner than I expected it to be.”

“That’s what living with four other guys will do to you. I had to learn how to clean out of pure survival,” he chuckled. 

“Was it really that bad?”

He grimaced. “You should’ve seen my dorm room. Basically a biological hazard.”

“They didn’t let non-students into the building. Your building RA was crazy scary, remember?” Even now you could remember the perpetual scowl of the law major when Jaehyun brought you into the dorm lobby.

“It was probably for the best. You would’ve broken up with me on the spot the second you walked through the door.”

You shared a laugh. Strangely, jokes about your break-up were light-hearted in their landing, the words leaving much less of a prickly uncomfortableness than you had been expecting. Perhaps it was still an event of importance in your life, but that cloudy unpleasantness you had come to associate it with had dissipated. It was a turning point, certainly. But so was graduation, and moving out, and travelling overseas for the first time. 

Your feelings about those things weren’t all bad. As you shared the pot of ramen and sipped on your beers, you realised, neither were your feelings about Jaehyun.

“I’m telling you, I was drinking Taeyong under the table. And I do mean that literally. He was passed out and laid across the stools.” He grinned, proud at the memory of beating his senior even five years later. You couldn’t help but grin too, amused by the sincerity of his expression and the way his shoulders set in accomplishment.

“Okay, okay. So now you’re a better drinker, you’ve gotten good at cooking, and you’re cleaner too.”

“And funnier,” he added.

“That one is still up for debate,” you joked, and his eyebrows furrowed together in mock offence. Digs at his sense of humour were not taken lightly. 

“Just because you don’t get my high quality gags,” he sighed, shaking his head. “You’re missing out.”

You nodded, making a noise of agreement if only to appease him. 

“What about me? How am I different?” you asked, voice curious. 

Jaehyun didn’t miss a beat. “Hmm, I think you got older?”

“Come on, I’m being serious!”

His laughter subdued then, surveying you thoughtfully. A quiet smile tugged at his lips when he spoke again. 

“You’re more outspoken than you used to be.” He paused, taking a sip from his can while trying to find the right words, all the while keeping his eyes on you. “You prioritise yourself more. And you’re more sure of who you are. You shine brighter, I think.”

Strange, how a person’s gaze could strip you down and make you feel so naked. There was nothing but earnestness in his eyes, plain and absolute, and the intensity of it was almost too much for you to bear. After all your time apart, Jaehyun could still see you, and see through you. 

I think you still know me inside out, and that scares me, you wanted to tell him.

Instead, you looked away first, tearing your eyes away from his with considerable effort. The pot of ramen on the coffee table, lukewarm now, was almost finished. The music had also stopped playing a while ago. Neither you or Jaehyun had bothered to get up and flip the vinyl to the other side, too busy eating. All that was left was the rain, and even that had faded to a soft pattering against the glass, following its own rhythm. 

Hastily, you stuffed a piece of kimchi into your mouth, for lack of anything better to do. The crunch of it in your mouth was loud, and you fought back a cringe.

“Did your mother make this?” you asked, hoping your attempt at diverting the conversation wasn’t so obvious.

If Jaehyun noticed, he didn’t show it, only nodding in confirmation. 

“She dropped some off last month,” he replied. “Remember how you told me her’s was better than your own mother’s?”

You let out a scandalised gasp. “As if I would ever say such a thing! Don’t let my mother ever hear something so blasphemous about her favourite daughter.”

“You’re her only daughter.”

“And you care too much about technicalities. Just because I’m the only one doesn’t mean I can’t still be the favourite.”

The crisp crunch of another piece of kimchi punctuated the end of your sentence. There was certainly something different about Mama Jeong’s recipes. If there was one thing you missed besides Jaehyun himself, it would have been his mother’s cooking. The woman knew her way around a stovetop better than a Michelin chef, at least in your eyes. 

You thought of her warm smile, and her even warmer embrace. Jaehyun had inherited many things from her, kindness being the greatest of them. Back then, she had been so sure of your future place in their family, welcoming you into her home as if you were her own daughter. You wondered where she stood on that now.

Still clinging onto that idea, perhaps, or were her sights now set on someone else?

“You’ve got something…”  Jaehyun murmured.

He reached across the table, over the pot and the small bowls, the movement quick and almost instinctive. Soft fingers found purchase on your left cheek. His thumb was gentle as it brushed away the stray chilli flake from the corner of your mouth.

Just the lightest touch against your bottom lip. And the warmth of his hand cradling your face.

Then he froze, as if to catch himself, but the damage was already done.

Jaehyun pulled his hand back with a start, an inscrutable expression across his face. He spilled a quick apology that you smiled away, putting on a composed front. At least, you assumed it was an apology. It was hard to hear anything above the buzzing chaos of your mind. The air filled with idle noise as the two of you shuffled in your seats.

“I should um—I should probably get going,” you mumbled, avoiding his eyes. The meal had long been finished. Your hands were already beginning to gather up the bowls and utensils into a stack for easy carrying. 

Jaehyun hummed, something akin to resignation in the noise. “Yeah, uh… I guess so.”

“Let me help you clean up first, and then I’ll be on my way.”

Despite his protests against you assisting with any kind of housework, there you were at the sink, helping him scrub everything nice and clean within the small space of his kitchen. Maybe he was right about there only being enough space for one person behind the counter. The aluminium beer cans went into their designated bins, and you made sure to wipe down the coffee table too.

This time, your half-damp, half-dried clothes found their way into a Byredo shopping bag — Jaehyun would rather die than not smell good — though your shoes still squelched rather uncomfortably when you slipped your bare feet in. By luck, you were able to book a taxi and could pass on the wet walk to the bus stop.

You thanked him again for bringing you along, noting that you probably got more out of the alleged ‘favour’ than he did. 

“Trust me, going with you made the whole thing so much better,” he said, both cheeks dimpling in your favourite smile of his. “And let me know if you need to get the film on your camera developed. I know a place.”

The ride home was flavoured by a sudden loneliness. Maybe it was the view of the city at night, or the absence of people out on the rainy streets, that had an empty feeling settle in your chest. 

Perhaps you should have delayed leaving his apartment. Perhaps you shouldn’t have left at all, and instead weathered the night away with Jaehyun on the couch, some slasher flick playing on the television while you shook under the blankets and tried not to scream at the jumpscares, like you used to. You never did understand why he liked horror films as much as he did.

Perhaps he’d slot his fingers between your own and give them a reassuring squeeze, and gaze at you with the kind of amused fondness he only ever reserved for you.

Heat flooded your face. As if you were entertaining the thought of spending the night at your ex-boyfriend’s place. And getting butterflies at the thought of holding hands? 

How embarrassing.

One thing was for certain. The walls you had put up were cracking, and there seemed to be little hope of patching them up.

“Will you stop messing with that thing?”

Jungwoo clicked his tongue against his teeth, fingers still fiddling with the ribbon on the gift bag. 

“It’s not straight,” he grumbled, pulling at the bow.

“You’re so pedantic.”

“It’s called being detail-oriented,” he fired back, leaning against the backseat of the taxi with a sigh.

You raised an eyebrow. “You say that like I’m not.”

“Well,” he trailed off, shrugging his shoulders. His mouth formed the shape of a smirk. 

You flicked a glance towards the rearview mirror, checking to see if the driver was paying attention to the two of you in the back. After verifying he was not, you landed a few (soft…ish) punches on Jungwoo’s upper arm, revelling in the shocked little noises he made, along with a few mumbles of ‘that actually hurts’ and ‘crazy woman’. 

How nice it was to let your hands fly without the threat of some other fifth floor witness reporting you for physical harassment. 

“I’m telling Joy the present is entirely from me,” you warned, turning around to face the front again.

“Right, except the card inside says my name too. So that’s not going to work.”

You reached into the gift bag, pulling out said card before rolling down the window. “Let me just throw this out.”

It was Jungwoo’s turn to deliver a light smack to your wrist. You dropped the envelope back in the bag, not without tossing an eye-roll his way. He knew just as well as you did that there was no real substance behind the threats — banter with Jungwoo was more for amusement than anything else. Deep down, you were quite fond of him, even if your actions tended to say otherwise, and you’d like to wager he quite enjoyed your company too. 

You couldn’t wait to get a few shots in him later tonight. Word had it he was a notorious lightweight. 

“Hopefully nobody vomits. I’d hate to be cleaning that up in my own house.” He shuddered at the thought. 

“Oh, don’t you worry about that,” you smiled sweetly, patting him on the shoulder. “You just focus on sticking to your limit, okay? I heard what happened at last year’s wrap up event.”

He bristled. “Nothing happened! It honestly wasn’t even that bad. I’m getting unfairly slandered,” he sulked. “I think you should stop hanging out with Joy so much.”

“Yeah, alright. Should we just skip her birthday party and turn the car around then?”

“Shut up.”

The taxi pulled up in front of Joy’s apartment complex, a tall modern thing with much bigger windows than your own building. And so much more glass, too. After splitting the taxi fare with Jungwoo, the two of you stood at the entrance, waiting for the intercom to connect. 

“Are you sure you pressed the right buttons?” Jungwoo asked, peering over your shoulder.

“Yes, of course. Apartment 814.”

“Maybe you should let me try.”

You let out a sigh. “It’s three numbers, Jungwoo. How is it going to be any different if it’s you pressing them instead of me? Do you think the keypad is going to magically—”

“Hello?” 

An unfamiliar male voice crackled through the intercom. “Are you here for Joy?” 

“Yes,” you and Jungwoo answered in unison. 

“Great, I’ll come down to get you guys now. Will only be a minute!” and then the line disconnected.

You and Jungwoo exchanged a glance. “Is he going to let us in?” you asked. 

“He literally said he’d come down to get us,” he answered flatly. “Do you not listen?”

“It was hard to hear him clearly with all the noise in the background,” you grumbled in defence. Hopefully Joy’s walls were thicker than your own, and her neighbours would not lodge a complaint halfway through the night.

The elevator doors slid open to reveal the face of the intercom answerer. It wasn’t detective work to match up the real thing to the pictures Joy would sometimes show you, though he looked taller in real life than he did in the photos from their weekend Jeju trip.

“Sorry about the wait, it was a bit hard to hear the doorbell,” he greeted, ushering you both inside with a warm smile. “I’m Doyoung, by the way.”

You and Jungwoo both introduced yourselves as you stepped into the elevator after him, to which he responded with a hum in recognition, and a knowing grin.

“Are you on door duty for the night?” Jungwoo asked.

Doyoung nodded, pressing on the button for the eighth floor. “It appears I am. She has her hands full with guests to entertain, so,” he trailed off, eyes glazing over for a split second, “you’ll see what I mean when we get up there.”

You had never imagined that a 2-bedroom apartment could fit so many people. Granted, it was nothing compared to the kind of parties you frequented during your university days where cheap spirits and green soju bottles lined the counter, but it was quite a distant cry from the gathering you thought it would be. Judging by the look on Jungwoo’s face, he had not been expecting this either.��

There had to be at least forty people. It almost made you wonder why she didn’t just book out a space instead of letting everyone invade her and her boyfriend’s shared home.

Doyoung made his exit rather quickly after letting you in, probably off to tend to one of his many other duties as unofficial host — poor guy was likely in for a very busy night — leaving you and Jungwoo to fend for yourselves in the entryway of the apartment. There was barely any room left in the tiled space for you to put your shoes.

How did Joy even know this many people? was the thought at the forefront of your mind as you helped Jungwoo stack his sneakers next to yours on a rack further down the hallway. Her present was left on a table near the entry piled with gift bags and wrapped boxes that you assumed was the designated drop-off area. 

Speaking of the birthday girl, you spotted her mingling in the living room and pointed her out to Jungwoo, though it was no easy feat finding her. The number of people, coupled with the dim ambient lighting, made it a challenge to recognise familiar faces. Joy, champagne glass in hand, was swept away in conversation with one of the most beautiful women you had ever laid eyes on. The gorgeous lady held a matching champagne flute in one hand, while the other was wrapped around the arm of—

“Junmyeon? What the hell is he doing here with that beautiful woman?” 

Jungwoo took the words right out of your mouth, a somewhat displeased noise making its way past his lips. You couldn’t help but echo the sentiment.

“Can’t believe this turned into a work function the moment we stepped through the door,” you all but groaned. “And here I thought having you around was bad enough already.”

You expertly dodged the elbow he jabbed into your side.

Joy spotted the two of you then, lingering by the kitchen, and quickly excused herself from the conversation to rush over. The champagne wobbled precariously in her glass as she approached, engulfing the two of you in a sweet-smelling hug.

“My little children! I’m so glad you could make it!” she cried, resting her chin in the space between your shoulder and Jungwoo’s. You exchanged a glance with the boy amidst the chorus of ‘happy birthday’s. 

There was a 77% chance she was drunk already.

“Had a little too much fun tonight?” you asked, helping to prop her upright again.

Joy only beamed in response. “All the more fun now that you two are here. My favourite fifth floor prisoners.” She gave your cheek a soft pinch.

“Quick question,” Jungwoo began, “why is our manager in your house?”

“With his arm around a beautiful woman way out of his league?” you added, swatting her fingers away from your face.

“That’s my sister Irene,” she said, like it was common knowledge. 

You raised an eyebrow. “Since when did you have a sister?”

“Okay, well not my real sister,” she amended, hurriedly waving off your words. “She was a senior in my department. I was really close with her back in university, so, basically my sister. I think we look pretty alike, honestly.”

“And her relation to Junmyeon is…?”

Joy threw a conspiratorial glance around before leaning in, beckoning the two of you closer. This time, a few drops of the champagne did manage to escape via the side of her glass, narrowly missing Jungwoo’s white socks.

“I set them up. On a date!” she whispered, eyes glinting with pride. Why she chose to whisper when it was already hard enough to hear her above the noise at her normal speaking level was beyond you.

You blinked at her a few times. “You set up a goddess like that… with our manager?”

Joy waved another hand dismissively. “Oh, please. Like Junmyeon’s not handsome too. You only think that because you’re too used to seeing him frown and squint at a monitor.” 

You cast a glance in his direction. Maybe she was right. Junmyeon did look somewhat more like a human without his glasses and the semi-permanent lines etched into his forehead. He even looked (dare you say it) quite nice. But maybe it was the poor lighting that made it seem that way.

“Anyways, it’s been about… two months now? I think they look pretty good together,” she mused, following your gaze. 

Junmyeon must have said something funny — a rather loose use of the word by your standards — because Irene had her lovely face scrunched up in a laugh, the pitched sound of it ringing out clearly above the noise of the apartment. In her amusement, she even threw a hand out to slap him lightly on the arm, which he appeared very pleased by.

Sure, you laughed at his jokes too, but it was more out of corporate self-preservation than actual amusement. 

“He kind of has been in a better mood recently,” Jungwoo said thoughtfully.

Joy grabbed his hand with fervour. “Yes, exactly! See? Thanks to my sacrifice, we can all enjoy a nicer, much more pleasant office environment.”

“I’d hardly call that a sacrifice,” you chuckled. “You take too much pleasure in playing matchmaker.” Joy’s response was nothing more than a guilty smile, followed by her emptying the rest of the glass.

It was then that you heard it — the deep, reverberating laugh that always bordered a little bit on breathlessness. It was slightly unnerving how quickly you could pinpoint the sound of his voice without even seeing him, or knowing that he had entered the room. 

You turned around first, eyes drawn to the entry hallway in search of the face to which the laugh belonged. Of course he was going to be here. You knew that. He had said as much two days ago, bidding you farewell across the cafeteria table with a promise to ‘see you on the weekend at Joy’s’.

Lunch with Jaehyun had recently become a rarer occurrence. From what he told you, and the bits of information you gleaned from Joy about Digital, Johnny had pulled Jaehyun onto his team to try and get a firmer grip on the reins not even two weeks ago. Already, the intensity of the new workload was obvious.

You certainly saw him less, much to your disappointment — you could admit that to yourself now.

Jaehyun emerged from the hallway then, midway through another laugh with an arm slung around Doyoung’s shoulders. Funny, how all the other faces were so murky and hard to identify under the dim lighting. And yet, the shape of his dimpled smile was unmistakable to you, as bright as the beacon of a lighthouse on the midnight sea. 

Doyoung scanned the room, catching sight of Joy with you and Jungwoo. He gestured at his girlfriend, and Jaehyun obediently turned in your direction, likely wanting to give his greetings to the birthday girl.

Your eyes locked, and your heart gave a woeful little squeeze in your chest.

“I’m just going to do a quick check on the drink inventory,” Doyoung said as they approached, “I’ll be right back. And please take care of my favourite guest.” With a final friendly pat on Jaehyun’s shoulder, he was off, ducking into the kitchen. 

“Happy birthday!” Jaehyun beamed, arms circling around Joy in a hug which she enthusiastically returned. He grabbed Jungwoo’s hand, pulling him in for one of those man greetings. (Since when were they close?) Their apparent friendship was an unexpected development. 

And then it was your turn. You wondered if it was as easy for others to find solace in a mere gaze as you did with Jaehyun. His eyes did not stray far, wandering around your face, something tender and comforting in his appraisal of your features. A hand came up to brush against your lower back, a gentle and quiet greeting against the excitement of the previous two. His lips pulled into a soft smile as he called your name in greeting. 

“You two are ridiculous,” Joy scoffed.

You inhaled sharply. Was it really that easy to tell? The depth of your attachment?

“You planned this, right? I mean seriously, matching outfits?” she asked, gesturing at you and Jaehyun.

You blinked a few times, looking down blankly at yourself. The dark wash denim and white silk that you had picked out yesterday looked back at you familiarly. Then you glanced at Jaehyun, taking in his white t-shirt, half tucked into a pair of jeans that were exactly the same wash as yours. 

The coordination was completely unintentional — you had no idea what you were going to wear tonight the last time you had spoken to him — but the look on Joy’s face told you there was no use in trying to convince her of the truth. 

(You would’ve argued that the cowl neck of your white silk top elevated your outfit above Jaehyun’s plain white tee, but you digressed.)

“Okay. I’m done with this,” Jungwoo said, throwing his hands up in defeat. “I’m going to do what single people do, and that is to get a goddamn drink.”

“Me too, another bubbly,” Joy chimed, grasping onto Jungwoo’s arm as he turned to leave for the kitchen. “See my success rate? Let me set you up with someone. My hairdresser’s daughter went to Korea University Business School and graduated not too long ago.” 

The rest of her appeal to play matchmaker for Jungwoo was swallowed up by the music and chatter of her guests. And then it was just you, and Jaehyun, and the thirty other people filling up the living room. 

The two of you shared a glance before dissolving into a few light giggles. 

“I do think I pull it off better,” you teased, giving Jaehyun another once-over. He was as handsome as always, the white cotton draped picturesquely across his lean frame while the dark jeans made his mile-long legs look even longer. He could wear a garbage bag and make it look couture. 

“I wouldn’t be so sure about that,” he said with a crooked smile. 

He raised his arm to reveal the denim jacket draped across his arm that you hadn’t noticed before, too busy making sad little googly eyes at him that you hoped other people couldn’t see. The jacket was coloured in the same wash as his jeans, and your own. 

You gave a scandalised gasp. “No, a matching set? How am I supposed to beat that?”

“You can’t. You can only admit defeat to the double denim. I out-Justin-Timberlaked you.”

“Justin Timberlake is not a verb.”

He only grinned in response, teeth pearly and eyes sparkling as he took in the slight pout of your mouth. 

“Whatever,” you conceded with a wave of your hand, though a smile crept its way onto your face. “You win. Let’s get something to drink.”

Jungwoo and Joy were nowhere to be found when the two of you made your way to the kitchen. What you did find was an impressive selection of bottles atop the marble counter, a selection that easily outdid the ones from your university days in both quality and variety. 

At least one thing was the same. Green soju bottles were always a dependable presence. 

“Shall we go for your favourite?” Jaehyun asked, holding up what looked to be a bottle of wine. You moved a little closer, peering at the label through his fingers.

“I do enjoy a good red,” you replied, accepting the glass he offered you with a quiet ‘thank you’. You took a small sip — because tonight, you felt no need to gulp down alcohol like a camel to ease your nerves — before adding, “Merlot is far from my favourite though.”

“Really?’ He raised an eyebrow. “I do seem to remember how you pretty much finished a whole bottle by yourself. At dinner, that time at the Italian place.”

You held back a wince at the recollection of that fated blind date. Of course he’d remember that. It would be hard to forget the way you all but sculled down three full glasses in the time it took him to finish one. A quick sideways glance revealed the slight upturn to the corners of his mouth, paired with a telling glint in his eyes. Jaehyun was teasing.

“It was honestly quite impressive,” he said, lips curling into a full-blown smile now.

“That was different,” you said. The next sip went down a little faster than you would have liked. “That was out of necessity.” 

There was no way I could’ve made it through that night without alcohol in my system, you almost said, but caught yourself just in time. 

A few seconds passed before either of you spoke again.

“Were you really upset to see me?”

Gone was the playful lilt to his voice. This question was asked softly, carefully, the sound of it so delicate you were afraid it would shatter in the air at your clumsy reply. Slowly, you turned to look at him, seeking the reassurance you were sure you could find in his eyes, but they had moved to the contents of his own glass. You followed their path, watching as he gave the liquid a few absent-minded swirls.

“Maybe. A little, I think,” you admitted. “I don’t know. There was a lot going on in my head that day. When I realised it was you.”

A pair of giggling women — Joy’s guests who you didn’t know — approached the counter, one of them tentatively reaching for something in front of you. Noticing her struggle, you shuffled slightly towards Jaehyun, trying to make some space around the counter. The one with her hand outstretched flashed you a grateful smile, which you politely returned, although with far less vigour. 

Perhaps the bustling kitchen in the centre of all the foot traffic wasn’t the best place for a conversation like this.

There was some fussing with the bottle cap, or whatever it was that they couldn’t quite get to work, followed by a considerably clean pour for two people who were clearly not quite sober. Then they were gone, giggling the entire way out of the kitchen and freeing up the space around you.

If you wanted to, you could have stepped back and returned to your original spot before their arrival. Put some more distance between you and Jaehyun again. Not that you were seriously encroaching on his personal space, but it was enough for you to recognise the proximity.

Instead, you took the smallest of steps closer and placed a hand on his forearm. His eyes flitted down at the touch, taking in the way your fingers lay feather-light on his skin, just above the ridge of his wrist. 

“I’m glad it was you,” you said. The words were true, but the honesty of them still tasted odd on your tongue, and you fought back a cringe. Jaehyun finally turned to meet your eyes, some semblance of hope, or maybe it was relief that coloured his expression. “And I’m glad we’re here, now,” you added.

You hoped he knew you weren’t talking about the far right corner of Joy’s kitchen.

Jaehyun smiled, and it was like the sun had finally risen up over the stark mountain peak, bathing everything in a warm, golden glow. It was the kind of warmth you didn’t realise you craved until the full force of it spilled over you, washing away the blue and the cold. 

“Me too,” he said softly.

Even if you hadn’t fallen victim to Joy’s schemes, you would like to think the two of you would still end up here, only via longer and slightly different routes. Perhaps an unexpected run-in in the lobby on a Tuesday morning, or the eventual and excruciatingly awkward introduction through Joy. Whatever it may have been, you’d like to think you would’ve found your way to each other again eventually. 

Curiosity tickled your mind. “What about you?”

“Hmm?”

He was still smiling, the lines by his nose just visible, and he had his eyes on you, though there was a faraway look about them. Something about his gaze reminded you of the way you’d regard a painting, framed and hung up on a wall in some art museum — carefully examining the details of the brushstrokes against the canvas, yet all the while trying to hold the whole piece in your mind’s eye, and let it touch the surface of that primal emotion somewhere inside of you. The depth of his gaze was enough to make you self-conscious, and you quickly averted your eyes, taking another sip from your glass. It was a good excuse to school your features before you spoke again.

“How did you feel when you saw me? Were you upset?”

Jaehyun regarded his own glass wistfully. “Not exactly upset, no,” he began, though a movement in his peripheral had him trailing off. 

Another of Joy’s guests had appeared, hovering beside the two of you with his eyes set on the bottle of whiskey directly in front of you. Politely, Jaehyun side-stepped away from the counter and wrapped a gentle hand around the bend of your elbow, guiding you out of the hectic buzz of the kitchen. It stayed there, warm and comforting, until you found your way back to the open space of the living room, and even then he was slow to let you go, fingertips lingering a just second too long before they retreated back to his side. 

“I think I was surprised, more than anything,” he continued. “Didn’t really know what to expect, not that I was expecting much. I never even thought I’d get to see you again after university. Thought you were gone for good.”

He paused, one side of his mouth quirking up slightly. The movement was small, and you wondered if you were supposed to have caught it at all.

“You stood there, with your bag in one hand and your cardigan in the other, looking like you were waiting for me to spontaneously combust—”

“Okay, I’m sure it wasn’t that bad.”

“—and all I could think about was how you were even prettier than I remembered. And back then I already thought you were the most beautiful girl I had ever seen.”

At that, you were quiet. Whatever silly rebuttal or attempt to defend yourself died quickly on your tongue as you let his confession settle beneath your skin, warming it from the inside out. Jaehyun was not even one bit fazed, looking like he had just said something trivial about the weather, or stated some objective fact like ‘grass is green’. For him, honesty had never been the heavy, cumbersome challenge it was for you. Judging by the resigned smile on his face, he wasn’t expecting some grand response from you either, which was all the better, because god, what were you supposed to say to something like that?

“Oh, there you are,” came a voice from behind you, followed by a hand on your shoulder. 

Joy’s timing was impeccable, as always.

“Sorry, this one is coming with me,” she said to Jaehyun, looping her arm around yours with half-drunken determination. “Us fifth-floors have some business to settle. With darts.”

Your eyes followed the direction of her outstretched arm, where sure enough, there was a dartboard hanging on the wall by the balcony. Jungwoo was there, standing obediently with his hands crossed in front of his stomach as he politely nodded along to whatever Junmyeon was animatedly saying. The beer bottle Jungwoo cradled, now forgotten, seemed more like an accessory than an actual beverage. He caught your eye and sent you a frantic look.

You whipped your head back to Jaehyun. “Please don’t let her take me.” 

Surely, he could see the pleading, the desperation in your eyes.

Jaehyun, having witnessed the whole exchange between you and Jungwoo, only grinned. “It does sound like some serious business,” he said, cheeks dimpling. Joy made a noise of agreement and gave your arm a little tug.

“You’re more than welcome to come and spectate, Jaehyun,” she called out over her shoulder as she herded you towards her destination. His only response was a hearty laugh. You stared at him in despair as you were towed away by the birthday girl. Next time you’d invite his boss to the function.

The game of darts (or seven games, if you were being precise) was decidedly less awful than you had expected. Junmyeon had promised not to speak about work and by some miracle, actually stuck to his word. Maybe you even got to know the guy a little better, outside of his office habits like the specific order in which he drank his three teas everyday (yuja, then chamomile, and lastly peppermint). Like you, he was somewhat of a wine enthusiast, though his knowledge of French vineyards was far superior to yours. 

By the third round, the game had clearly left your little work circle. Jaehyun joined in at one point, competitiveness getting the better of him. Doyoung tried his hand too, and he was honestly abysmal, but smiled the whole time and seemed to be enjoying himself, even if he had to pick the darts off the floor on every turn. Out of all the players over the course of the seven games, Junmyeon’s date Irene had been the most unexpected hidden card, scoring three bullseyes in a row. 

Oh, to be a goddess and have perfect hand-eye coordination. 

“You feeling okay?” you asked a rather blank-looking Jungwoo. His eyes were beginning to droop, and so was the rest of his body, long limbs sprawled out against the leather. You could swear he only had his initial bottle of beer and the two celebratory soju shots Joy had forced him to take (from which you were not exempt either), and yet here he was, half-asleep on the couch.

“Hmm,” was his eloquent reply.

The party was slowly drawing to a close, the living room much emptier now than it had been when you first walked in. Junmyeon and Irene had made their departure some twenty minutes ago, and there were only a handful of guests left, most of them getting ready to leave as well. Grown adults didn’t gamble with their sleep schedules. 

Doyoung emerged from the hallway, running a hand through the mess of hair on top of his head, already tousled from the fifty or so times he had repeated the action throughout the night.

“Okay, she’s knocked out,” he sighed. On his face, you glimpsed the first sign of relief you had seen all night. “I don’t think she’s going to puke, but I left a bucket by the bed just in case.”

You flashed him a grateful smile. “Thank you for tonight. I can’t imagine it was easy having to wrangle all these people for so long.”

“Oh, it’s no big deal. As long as Joy’s happy and had a good time.” 

Even though he was clearly exhausted, Doyoung smiled, and the fondness held within it felt like a private thing you shouldn’t have witnessed. Your mind went, now as it always did, to a certain dimpled smile.

“I’d better get this one home,” you said instead, gesturing at Jungwoo slumped on the couch. You turned towards the boy, patting his shoulder gently. “Come on, time to go.”

“Mmffh.” 

Another brilliant and enlightening response.

The owner of your favourite dimpled smile stepped out from the bathroom to the sight of you struggling to get Jungwoo upright enough to loop an arm around your shoulders. The half-asleep boy was lean, but definitely heavier than he looked, or perhaps the few glasses of wine over the course of the night had sapped some of the strength from your body. Jaehyun was at your side in an instant, shouldering most of Jungwoo’s weight as the two of you dragged him to a standing position.

“I’ll come with you,” he said, no room for discussion in his tone. You had no mind to protest anyway. 

Doyoung was already busying himself with clearing plates and glasses from the living area when Jaehyun bid him farewell. The guy seemed to have formulated a detailed plan of attack to get his apartment back to the no-doubt spotless state it had been prior to tonight.

“I sorted out most of the empty bottles so you should be able to just throw them out in the morning,” Jaehyun said over his shoulder. He crouched on the ground, guiding Jungwoo’s disobedient left foot into the correct shoe, carefully doing up the laces once both feet were inside their corresponding sneakers. 

You tossed a glance back at Doyoung whizzing around the place like a Roomba, feeling a pang of guilt for not having done much to help him clean up. Even though you had been a much more gracious and tidy guest than other people in Joy’s company, you couldn’t help but feel like there was more you could’ve done, apart from babysitting a very not-sober Jungwoo and making sure he didn’t crack his head open on the corner of the coffee table. 

“It’s fine,” Jaehyun said softly. You turned to look at him, half-surprised, and he only flashed you a small smile. “Doyoung likes to clean. I think he finds comfort in it.”

He was fluent as ever in your micro-expressions. Maybe one day you’d learn to stop being surprised by it. 

The taxi back to Jungwoo’s place was shorter than you had expected. His head lolled between your shoulder and Jaehyun’s in the backseat, before finally finding a home in Jaehyun’s lap. Even when you finally tucked the younger boy safely into his own bed — after going to great lengths to extract his building code which involved a series of profuse apologies to his neighbours who you had mistakenly rung in the middle of the night — there was an impressive imprint on his right cheek that exactly matched the side seam on Jaehyun’s jeans. You could’ve sworn there was a small, wet patch of drool left behind on the denim, and you were sure Jaehyun himself had noticed it too, but he gave no indication of complaint.

“Are you far from here?” Jaehyun asked once the elevator had brought the both of you back down to Jungwoo’s lobby.

“I’m actually just a fifteen minute walk away,” you answered.

The invitation in your voice was silent, and you knew he would’ve accompanied you home even if you lived on the other side of the city. Still, some achingly pleasant emotion settled over you when you heard his footsteps fall in with yours against the pavement. He took his place between you and the open street, shielding you from the bustle of late night delivery bikes and club bound taxis.

Though the days still resembled summer, nights were when the beginnings of autumn could reveal itself. The slight chill in the air was not unbearable, but still noticeable against your bare arms, and just enough for goosebumps to spring up on the skin there. Before you could even bring your hands up to wrap them around yourself, Jaehyun shrugged off his jacket and wordlessly draped it over your shoulders. 

“Thanks,” you mumbled, drawing the collar close around your neck. The stiff denim was a little rough, but warm from his body heat all the same, with faint traces of his woody scent lingering on the fabric.

Jaehyun thrust his hands in his pockets and grinned. “Now you out-Justin-Timberlake me.”

“Still not a real word.”

You supposed there was something about night-time that made it feel all the more forgiving to the emotional afflictions of the human condition. Perhaps it was only against the muted palette of the midnight blue sky and the dimly lit city streets that you felt brave enough to face the truth of your feelings, without agonising over the consequences of acknowledging them. Even so, you found yourself wishing the night would stretch on for just a little longer. Honesty always seemed to wear off faster than it came on.

“You’ve been crazy busy lately.”

Jaehyun’s responding laugh contained little amusement. “Crazy busy is one way to put it. I can’t believe Johnny has had to deal with all of this the whole time. This client is so,” he paused, trying to find the right word, before finally settling on “demanding.” The look in his eyes gave you the feeling there were many other more colourful adjectives he wanted to use instead.

The two of you passed the convenience store corner of your street. Your place was not too far up ahead, the glass building doors almost visible if you squinted. The night was coming to an end, and something cold and heavy settled in your chest to accompany the realisation.

“They want us in New York working on the new client site as soon as possible, so we’ve been running around trying to get visas and everything sorted,” he sighed. 

Your footsteps faltered. 

“You’re going to New York?” you asked. 

He nodded. 

“When?”

“Within the next week, if everything comes back approved.”

You hadn’t even noticed that you had come to a standstill until Jaehyun’s footsteps also slowed to a stop. The both of you stood like that, under the dim glow from the streetlights, in the middle of the sidewalk. 

“We’ll probably be there until the end of the year, at least until the design piece is done,” he said. 

Did your face betray the sudden drop of your stomach? Did the sound of a fissure cracking through your chest escape through the slight parting of your lips?

It was silly, really. That one small piece of information could turn your entire world on its head. International travel on a project wasn’t a rare occurrence. And you supposed you would’ve found out sooner or later, even if he hadn’t told you, because he had no obligation to update you about every development in his life, even if they involved crossing continents. Even if you wanted to know every little detail. 

Jaehyun’s eyes moved from his shoes to your face. The shadows cast by the streetlights made it hard to decipher his expression, but you thought there was a pleading look to his handsome face. What he was pleading for, you weren’t entirely sure. 

You cleared your throat and finally found your voice again. “That’s really exciting, Jaehyun,” you managed, trying to keep your tone light. “I hear New York is gorgeous this time of year.”

The smile you pasted on your face was a flimsy one, and you could feel your top lip begin to tremble when he didn’t quite return it. Before it could turn into a grimace, you let the corners of your mouth fall. There had never been any use in putting on an act in front of him. Unsure what else to say without sounding insincere — though you were excited for him, truly, this little fit of sadness was a silly thing that would pass surely and quickly — you turned and resumed your steps towards your apartment. 

Another few minutes and you’d be in the safety of your own home. Free to let your top lip tremble and quiver, and let the inexplicable lump in your throat force its way out, rather than try to swallow it down.

It only took a few steps for you to realise that Jaehyun had not followed. You looked over your shoulder to find him standing there by the streetlight, eyes fixed on the ground again. 

“I don’t want to go,” he said, toeing at a crack in the concrete. “If I didn’t have to, I wouldn’t. I don’t want to leave…”

You.

He may not have said that last word, but you heard it all the same. Your chest squeezed with emotion you couldn’t quite place.

“But you have to,” you said softly. A gentle breeze blew through the early autumn air and you briefly wondered if your words had been carried adrift.

He looked up at you then, eyes burning into yours with unspoken sentiments. A thousand words were conveyed with that one look, those few seconds in which you understood everything he wanted to say, and nothing he wanted to say, because he hadn’t said much at all. Just like how he could read your emotions with a simple glance at your face, you saw his reluctance. You saw the irresolution in his resolve, and how it wavered as he turned over in his mind the things he wanted to say to you, and how much of his heart he was willing to risk. 

“But I have to,” he agreed. 

Jaehyun still knew you inside out, yes, but you knew him too.

Your feet dragged over the last few hundred metres to your apartment complex, until you finally reached the door and there was nothing left you could do to delay the inevitable.

“Here,” you said, handing his jacket back to him. “Thank you for walking me home.”

He took it from your outstretched hand, fingers just brushing your knuckles. “Of course.”

And maybe Jaehyun was just as unwilling to let you go. His feet stayed firmly planted on the concrete pavement in front of your building, even though you were pretty sure no harm would befall you across the five steps into the lobby. The two of you stood there for a while, neither quite knowing what to say, or how to ward off the odd melancholy you knew he felt too.

There were so few guarantees of forever in life. You knew that. And even if you had never really gotten him back in the first place, you couldn’t shake the feeling that you were losing him again. Except this time, he wouldn’t just be a 67-minute subway ride away. This time, he’d be a 14-hour flight away, on the other side of not the city but the world, with 7,000 miles and the entire Pacific Ocean separating you. 

And yes, he’d come back eventually, but who could promise that the feelings between the two of you now would be the same upon his return? You knew that you were in no position to demand he refrain from exploring other romantic pursuits, to deter him from making new connections in the diverse metropolis that was New York City, and all the excitement and energy that came with it. 

You had unknowingly gotten in the way of that once.

“Well, I’d better get inside,” you said quietly, gesturing at the building behind you. Jaehyun only nodded.

This was it. All things must come to an end, you thought as you walked up to the lobby door. Even if they never really started. Perhaps you and your hesitance to let him in had played the biggest part of all, and whatever it was between you and Jaehyun wouldn’t be ending before it began if you had only been more forgiving at the start. Less pointy and disagreeable. Perhaps then you would be parting now on more certain terms, and you’d carry some peace of mind knowing he’d be coming back to you, instead of the crushing weight of disappointment currently lodged underneath your sternum.

And yet, what difference did it make? You’d be losing him anyway, no matter what you did. In two weeks’ time, he’d be sitting in a conference room on a different continent, regardless of whether you said nothing or cussed him out to his face right now.

Your hand froze on the steel handle for only a second before you turned around to face him again. Three determined strides was all it took to close the distance between you. 

“What is it?” he asked.

There had been few occasions where you had seen Jaehyun drunk, or at least not sober, in the years you had known him. Your split early on in university had not afforded you many chances to witness his supposedly high tolerance in action at weekend benders. Nothing more than a few underage sips snuck from his dad’s glass at the dinner table. You took a second now to look at him, really look at him, taking in all the details of the face you knew almost as well as your own. 

Pink. Everything about him was so pink, from the slight tinge around the whites of his eyes, to the lingering flush in the apples of his cheeks.

To the pretty colour of his soft, full lips. 

They parted with confusion when you approached. Carefully, you reached out a hand and placed it against his cheek, feeling the way he leaned into your touch almost immediately. His eyes fluttered shut for the briefest of moments before they were searching your face again, almost fervently. 

“I just…” you whispered, trying to commit this picture of him to memory. 

What difference did it make?

It was hard to tell who moved first. You’d like to believe it didn’t matter.

The rhythm of your lips against his was unfamiliar at first, clumsy from years of disuse. Through slow and careful movements, you reacquainted yourself with the shape of Jaehyun’s mouth, the pillowy swell of his bottom lip as it gently slid in between your own. It fit there perfectly, like it always did. His hands came up to graze the curve of your waist, resting lightly on your skin as if he was afraid you’d crumble like sand in his grasp. 

You tilted your head, parting your mouth ever so slightly to let the tip of your tongue brush against the underside of his top lip. The kiss changed immediately. You felt his surprise in the small puff of air that escaped through his nose and landed softly against your cheek. His fingers gripped at you with a newfound strength, pulling you flush against him. Even through the fabric of your shirts, the outline of his toned chest was unmistakable. Your hands found their home in the softness of hair at the nape of his neck, revelling in the throaty sound that left him as you ran your hands through it. 

How had you denied yourself of this for so long?

Jaehyun must have pulled away first, because suddenly you could breathe again, shaky gasps coming in and out through your mouth. He fared no better, pressing his forehead gently against yours while he tried to catch his breath.

You couldn’t think. You felt electrified, as if every nerve ending in your body was simultaneously firing, as if your blood was laced with dynamite. Hell, you had half a mind to invite him up to your room and finish off what you had so brazenly started.

“It’s late,” he finally managed, voice rough. “You should head in.” His hands, however, stayed firmly in place around your waist. You watched as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down with each swallow.

Right. Perhaps it was best to let the night end here, before you could do anything else that you might regret. 

“Yeah, I should probably,” you murmured, catching the way his eyes followed each movement of your mouth as you spoke. The sound of your voice seemed to break the daze he was in, and you felt his grip on you loosen, slowly and reluctantly. The arms you had looped around his neck made their way back to your sides. You were released from his warmth far too quickly.

Impulsive decisions (like inviting your ex-boyfriend to spend the night in your one-bedroom apartment with nowhere to sleep except in your bed) seldom ended well. You should’ve known better than to make those rookie mistakes.

You had barely turned around to walk up to your building doors when Jaehyun wrapped a warm hand around your wrist and pulled you back into him. He pressed his lips to yours, swallowing the small noise of surprise that left your mouth. This time, his kiss was softer, surer, and in it you tasted the sweetness of unspoken promises he was determined to keep. 

“I’ll see you when I get back,” he said, dark eyes fixed on you with conviction. Your lip colour had smudged by the side of his mouth, leaving behind a faint pink stain that only added to the pretty hue of his now kiss-swollen lips. 

He was still the most gorgeous person you had ever seen. 

“See you when you’re back, then,” you echoed. 

Some odd emotion, neither happy nor sad, settled in your chest as you pushed open the door to the emptiness of your home. You had rushed to the window, hoping to catch a glimpse of Jaehyun before he left, only to find he had gone already, and the sidewalk outside your building was as vacant as to be expected for this hour of the night.

No matter. You’d wait for him to come back. 

“One more prosecco before he disappears to the bathroom for the rest of the night.”

You cast a glance at the catering table and clicked your tongue against your teeth.

“Half a prosecco,” you concluded, taking a sip from your own glass. 

Joy raised a shapely eyebrow at you. “You know it doesn’t hit until at least twenty minutes after he gets the munchies.”

“True, but he specifically told me he skipped lunch today so it would hit earlier, and he’d have the energy to mingle.”

“Well,” she shrugged, “I guess that’d do it.”

The two of you turned your gazes back to the catering table, where Jungwoo was doing some serious damage to the salmon ceviche tostadas. The glass in his hand was empty, and you watched as he asked for a refill from one of the waitstaff.

“Someone should really stop him,” Joy sighed. “Before we get a repeat of last year.”

“Someone should,” you agreed.

Neither of you made a move.

As far as year-end wrap-up events went, this one wasn’t too bad, even if it was your first at the company. This year, HR had managed to book one of the smaller function rooms at an upscale hotel, with an open bar and hors d’oeuvres menu to match. It was a nice chance to celebrate the year’s achievements, and get to know the other people in the department a little better. Already a year in this place, and you’d be lying if you said you knew the name of every person on your floor.

September to November had flown by in a blur. Recruitment for the company’s graduate program next year had been an intensive few months of screening, interviewing, reviewing, and then interviewing again. As hectic as it had been, the fruits of your team’s efforts had been warmly recognised with smiles and praises from the senior managers and higher-ups you’d had the chance to speak with tonight. 

Traditionally, each department hosted their own event, though from what you gathered, HR and Marketing were the only ones that put in any real effort. While HR liked to keep things classy, Marketing liked to go all out.

“Do you think it’s true that Marketing rented out a yacht this year?” you asked. Surely their budget wasn’t that excessive.

Joy made a face. “God, I hope not. It’s the middle of December. I’d be surprised if the Han River wasn’t all frozen over.”

Winter had come early this year, sinking its cold fingers into November and staking its claim. Yet, there had been no snow, even though it was only a few days out from the holidays. Though it was nice that your clothes stayed relatively dry all day from the lack of precipitation, you couldn’t help but miss the sight of the city covered in a blanket of white softness. 

“There he goes,” Joy said, nudging your arm. You turned to see Jungwoo excuse himself from the conversation, setting down a barely-touched glass on the tablecloth. He made a beeline for the men’s restrooms, or as close to a beeline as he could manage in his current state, face flushed and a little queasy.

It was a good thing the company’s holiday closure started tomorrow.

“Okay, you win. Want to come and get a refill with me?” she asked. “We can say hi to a few of the directors over there.”

The thought of having to network with more seniors, when you had already spent the last hour and a half donning bright smiles and laughing politely at their lacklustre jokes, was not a pleasant one. You knew it would be a good thing for you to go and introduce yourself, but your battery for social interaction had long since been depleted. Perhaps you should’ve taken a page out of Jungwoo’s book.

Still, you flashed Joy a grateful smile. “You go ahead. I might grab some air, actually.”

“Okay,” she replied, eyes warm with understanding. “But make sure you put your coat on. It’s freezing out there.”

She was right, of course. The toasty interior of the function room was a completely different world from the frigid gust of wind that greeted you as soon as you pulled the sliding door open. An upscale hotel needed to have a matching upscale view of the city. You leaned against the balcony railing, blocking out the icy sting of the metal against your hands, and took in the sight of the not-quite-frozen Han River below, and the sparkling Seoul Tower further away on the skyline.

You’d only be out here for a little bit, you told yourself. Just a few minutes, and then you’d head home.

Truthfully, you could have left half an hour ago when your reserves for socialising had just run out, and be within the warm and familiar confines of your own bed right now, doom-scrolling to your heart’s content. But these days, the solitude of your apartment that you had once found comforting had evolved into a loneliness that you’d rather avoid. 

The empty echoes of your own footsteps across the tiled floors didn’t bounce against the walls like deep laughter did.

Absent-mindedly, you thumbed at the pendant sitting at the hollow of your throat. You had turned your jewellery box inside out, almost fully convinced that you had lost the thing entirely until you finally spotted the milky pearl set in white gold, underneath all the other chains. It was gorgeous when you had first opened the velvet box all those years ago, and it still was now, even if you hadn’t seen it for quite some time. Jaehyun always had an eye for beautiful things.

You weren’t the only one who endured a few packed and chaotic months. Johnny’s team had flown out of the country the Wednesday after Joy’s birthday and had been sequestered in New York ever since. Between your swamped schedules and the 14 hour time difference, conversations with Jaehyun were intermittent at best, and sparse and uncoordinated at worst. Sometimes he’d message with silly little things, like the time he sent you a picture of a doll sitting in the window of an antique shop.

this reminded me of you, the accompanying text had said.

He was due back soon, and there was still much left to be said, but above all, you only hoped that he was well, and that the New York winter was much more forgiving than it was here at home.

The cloudy wisps of air formed by your breath floated upwards before they dissipated into the night sky. No wonder the balcony was empty — who would want to be out here when there were mozzarella stuffed mushrooms and central heating on the other side of the glass?

You heard the doors slide open behind you as someone else equally as crazy decided to step out into the cold. Just as well. It was time for you to head back anyways. You turned to make your way inside, only to freeze in your tracks.

“They told me I’d find you out here. You really know how to pick a spot, huh?”

A soft gasp left your mouth.

“Jaehyun?”

He gave you a smile, your favourite smile, where his dimples were only just visible, and there was the hint of a pout to the shape of his lips. He was here, and he was in front of you, looking at you like you were the most wonderful thing in the world that he would ever have the good fortune of knowing. Your chest swelled almost painfully at the sight of him.

“When did you get back? How did you even get in here?”

“We landed in Incheon earlier this afternoon. I had to pay the door guy outside a hundred bucks for him to let me in.”

Your eyes widened. “He can’t make you do that!”

“Just kidding,” Jaehyun chuckled. “I only had to show him my company ID.”

He walked over to where you stood by the railing and rested his arms against the metal. His profile was sharp against the darkness of the night sky, and you took a moment to study the details while he took in the view. 

“Are you tired?” you asked. “It can’t be easy adjusting to the time difference.”

“A little,” he admitted. The bags under his eyes were dark and purple now that you could see his face up close. He must have been exhausted. Nobody ever slept well on long haul flights. “You should see Johnny though. He would have come tonight, but jet lag is seriously kicking his ass.”

You shared a laugh, traces of your breaths mingling in the air. Beside him, you settled back into your original spot, mirroring the way he leaned against the metal railing. Jaehyun was close, but not too close, your elbows only a few centimetres apart. A mellow silence settled over the balcony as you gazed out at the river, watching the never-ending stream of cars as they circled the waterfront. 

With even this, you were content. His mere presence next to you was a remedy in itself, regardless of the words shared or touches exchanged. You felt more at home in this moment now than you had in over 3 months.

“I’ve missed you,” he said, still gazing out into the distance. The gravity in his voice hinted at circumstances beyond the recent season he had spent on the other side of the world. And yet, he had said it so simply, as if the words were an immovable truth that would withstand the corrosion of time.

“I’ve missed you too,” you replied.

Maybe it was just that simple, because it was the truth. The nights weathered away in your own apartment were only lonely because there had been an absence of him, an absence that was known to you, even if you had not felt it for many years.

He turned to you, taking in a shaky breath. “I should never have let you go.”

“Oh, Jaehyun—”

“I was young, and foolish, and I thought I knew what I wanted. And I had you, but I thought I wanted more, because I wanted everything. I wanted the whole damn world.”

Something sharp pricked behind your eyes as you listened to the honesty pouring out of him.

“And then I lost you, and it was—god, it was… like someone had sucked all the colour out of my life. And I had no one to blame, because I was the one who did that to myself. To us.”

It was so hard to not notice the pain etched into his beautiful features. The tight set of his jaw. The redness that rimmed his eyes. Your fingers ached to reach over and smooth out the crease between his brows.

“There were so many things I could have done to make things right between us again. Even if you wouldn’t have me back. But my pride, and my ego… I did nothing—”

“You can’t pin it all on yourself, Jaehyun,” you said, shaking your head. “I had no idea what I wanted. And even when I did, I never acted—I never stood up for myself. I could’ve fought for us, but I didn’t. I just accepted everything. Hell, I never even told you how I felt.”

You flashed him a watery smile. “We needed the time away from each other, don’t you think?” 

There was a moment where the two of you simply stared at each other. A hurricane of repressed emotions swirled in your chest, finally breaking the surface five years on. Jaehyun must have felt the same, reliving all those memories now. You could see it on his face.

Youth was so beautiful, and precious — even the heartbreak, and all the other foolish things that came along with it. 

“I let you go once, and maybe that was meant to happen.” He took a step closer. “But we’re not dumb teenagers anymore. I’m not… I won’t make the same mistake twice.”

His eyes locked on yours as he gazed at you with reverence. “Don’t you still feel the same? Even after all these years?”

I do, you wanted to say. 

You would have too, if it weren’t for the small speck of white that landed in Jaehyun’s dark hair. It was visible for only a few seconds before melting away. You looked up and sure enough, the night sky was dotted with white.

“First snow,” you breathed, watching as the snowflakes fell from the sky. “Do you know what that means?”

Jaehyun gave you a small shake of his head. Of course. He never believed in superstitions.

You reached for his hand, feeling his fingers respond to yours immediately. He was so warm, and his touch breathed life back into your frozen body.

“If you see the first snow with someone you love, it means that your love will be true and long-lasting.”

A few seconds passed as he took in your words, trying to make sense of them.

“You… love me?”

“I do,” you admitted. A teardrop finally spilled out from your waterline, leaving behind a wet track on your cheek that stung in the cold. “Even when I thought I hated you, deep down, I think I still loved you.”

One of his hands came up to wipe away the trail of moisture from the escaped tear. The action sent a shiver through your entire body.

“I never stopped loving you,” he confessed softly, stroking your cheek. You felt it then, that deep, aching feeling that had threaded itself into the very marrow of your bones. 

Longing. You longed for his presence, his smile, his touch. You longed to hold his heart in your hands again, and give him yours in exchange. You had missed him more than you could bear, and here he was, telling you his heart was where it had always been, sitting in the centre of your palm. 

Perfect moments didn’t exist, but damn did this one come close.

“Come here,” Jaehyun whispered, pulling you into him. 

His mouth was just as sweet as you remembered. His lips were a little rougher, slightly chapped from the cold. His kiss was slow and patient, taking his time to explore the shape of your mouth and mould to it again. You felt his smile, the slight tension in his bottom lip giving him away, and you couldn’t help but reciprocate, a quiet giggle bubbling in your chest before escaping through your lips. 

“I really fucking missed you,” you mumbled against his mouth, another giggle accompanying the words. “You kissed me and then you were on a plane to the other side of the world.” 

“I told you I’d see you when I was back, didn’t I?” he reminded, giving your waist a small squeeze. “And for the record, you kissed me. Not that it matters.”

You swatted a hand against his chest. “I see you still care too much about technicalities.”

Jaehyun only laughed, that deep and familiar sound you had craved to hear for the last 3 months. He pulled your hands into his warm ones, and pressed his lips to your knuckles. 

“Your hands are cold,” he murmured, wrapping his fingers around yours. 

“Well, I was about to head back inside when you found me. It’s nice and toasty in there.”

“Do you want to go in now?”

You looped your arms around his neck and buried your head into the crook of it. “Let’s just stay out here for a little bit longer,” you said, words muffled by the fabric of his coat. “You always run hot in the colder months anyways. Enough to keep me warm.”

He hummed in agreement, holding you flush against him as the snow fell around you. In his arms, you were the most at ease you had been in years, and the thought was almost enough to bring a fresh new wave of moisture to your eyes. 

“What is that—something’s digging in,” he suddenly said, pulling away from you. His eyes landed on the pendant that had slipped out from underneath the lapels of your coat. Wordlessly, he reached for it, running his thumb across the pale pearl that hung from your neck. 

“You kept this?” 

“Of course,” you answered. “You kept yours.”

He smiled, a big one, dimples marking his cheeks. “Of course,” he repeated. 

“We’re lucky, aren’t we? To have found each other again after all this time?”

Jaehyun’s reply took the form of another sweet and unhurried kiss. It warmed you from the inside out, all the way down to the tips of your toes.

“So we’re really doing this, right?” he asked. “We’re giving us a second chance?”

You raised an eyebrow. “Are you telling me you said all that earlier just for shits and giggles?”

“Of course not,” he chuckled, squeezing your sides again. “I just wanted to make sure. I think I might lose faith in the world if you tell me you don’t want to be with me.”

“You have nothing to worry about,” you reassured. The snow was sticking to his hair, and you took a second to run your hands through it, brushing off the half-melted pieces. His eyes fondly followed your every movement.

“Good, because I plan on keeping you for a long time.”

You returned inside shortly after. The snow had picked up and it was clear that you couldn’t stay out for much longer (unless you wanted hypothermia, which neither of you did). The function hall was much emptier now than it had been when you stepped out, and of the remaining faces, none of them were familiar. 

A quick glance at your phone showed a few unread messages from Joy. 

joy [08:32 pm]: hey, had to leave, doyoung’s still working tomorrow so it’s an early night for me joy [08:33 pm]: hope you and jaehyun work things out joy [08:33 pm]: i’m rooting for you guys!!

joy [08:37 pm]: also can you see if jungwoo is okay joy [08:38 pm]: i don’t think he’s come out yet

“Can I ask a favour, just before we go?”

Jaehyun smiled back at you sweetly, devotion written in his eyes. “Anything.”

“Pop into the men’s room and check if Jungwoo’s still alive?”

Life was a funny thing. 

“There are so few things in life that are guaranteed. Death, for one, and taxes, for another. Sorry if that was a bit dark and killed the mood. You can laugh, by the way. But I think everyone here would agree, neither of those two are all that conducive to happiness.”

Roundabout. 

“So when the girl you’ve been chasing, for what feels like an eternity, finally gives you a second chance, you absolutely cannot take it for granted. You grab onto that chance with both hands, and even your teeth if you have to. It’s no guarantee for happiness, but it’s your best bet.”

Unpredictable. 

“I’m not a God-fearing man, but I’m a God-believing man. I thank God everyday for bringing such a magnificent woman into my life.”

He raised his glass. 

“Joy, you make me the happiest person in the world, and I can’t wait to be married to you.”

The crowd broke into warm applause as Doyoung finished off his impromptu speech by planting a kiss on his bride-to-be.

“He’s so good at talking,” you mused, wrapping your arm around Jaehyun’s. “If that’s his toast for this, I wonder what his vows will be like.”

A year ago, you would never have believed that you’d be attending your co-worker’s engagement party, much less with your ex-boyfriend who you hadn’t seen in 5 years. Spring had well and truly arrived, and with it came promises of love and new beginnings. The last rays of the April afternoon sunlight filtered through the windows of the riverside art centre. The venue was gorgeous, floating on the edge of the river with unobstructed views of the skyline and where it met the water — as always, Joy knew how to pick a spot.

“I didn’t know she rejected him before they got together. He must have really liked her.”

Jaehyun gave you a crooked smile. “Four years of university, and he never gave up. Even when she started dating that blockhead from liberal arts.”

“I bet he would’ve felt like the luckiest guy in the world when she finally said yes to a date,” you said, watching as the happy couple shared a moment, giggling about something nobody else was privy to. Jaehyun followed your gaze and made a small noise of agreement.

“Not as lucky as I am to have found you again.”

He ran his thumb across your knuckles. You could’ve sworn there was stardust sprinkled into those pretty brown eyes of his.

Life was a funny thing, for sure. It had a funny way of bringing back things you once thought you had lost forever. You knew now that you had to seize them before they passed by. Who knew if they’d ever turn up again?

“Okay, that’s enough.”

Jungwoo set his glass down on the table with a loud thunk, lightly startling you.

“I’m right here. You guys know that, right? I am right in front of you.”

A sheepish smile was thrown his way. “Sorry.” You patted his hand once, softly. “Your time will come, I’m sure of it,” you reassured. “How did the date with the KU Business girl go?”

“I flaked,” Jungwoo said simply.

“No! Why?”

He sighed. “Blind dates are really not my thing. It’s too awkward. And it feels so superficial. Like, what if you have nothing in common, or there’s no physical attraction, or—” 

Jungwoo paused, cutting himself off. “Actually, I’m not talking about this with you people. I’m going to get another drink.” With that, he turned and headed straight for the cocktail bar. You and Jaehyun gazed at him from behind as he walked off.

“I’m gonna be babysitting him again tonight, aren’t I?” Jaehyun asked, the question directed at nobody in particular.

“People are going to start wondering if you’re dating me or him.”

His mouth curled into a smirk. “Should I give them a reminder?”

“My boss is standing right over there, so no.”

Junmyeon and Irene were still going steady, to your surprise. You’d probably be seeing more and more of him, since Joy and the rest of the Parks genuinely treated Irene like one of their own. The thought wasn’t exactly a pleasant one, but not awful either. Maybe you were warming up to him.

“Also, you should probably be careful about who you call blockhead,” you said to Jaehyun, holding back a smile.

He fixed you with a suspicious stare. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know,” you trailed off, gesturing vaguely at his head. The smile broke through, your cheeks lifting as you tried to keep the laughter from coming out. He, on the other hand, was thoroughly unimpressed.

“You should really watch your mouth,” he said lowly, though he was smiling. There was a look in his eyes that sent a jolt straight to the pit of your stomach.

“Or what?”

His hands were all over you before you even made it through the door.

“My beautiful, gorgeous, sexy girlfriend,” he mumbled, peppering your neck with kisses between each adjective. The keypad finally beeped and you pushed down on the handle, letting the door swing open as you pulled him in by the collar.

“Stop talking and just kiss me,” you sighed, dragging his face back up to yours. He was all too eager to comply, mouth slotting over yours with practised ease. His tongue brushed along yours in the way he knew you liked, pulling your bottom lip into his mouth with just the right amount of pressure. Fire licked at your insides as he drew a light moan from you.

Four months in, the second time around, and everything with Jaehyun was still electrifying.  

Your hands fumbled with the buttons on his shirt, finally succeeding with undoing the top one after a few tries. Hands came up around the back of your thighs, lifting you up onto his kitchen countertop. The marble was cool to the touch, and you felt it through the silk of your dress, a soft gasp of surprise flying from your mouth into his awaiting one.

“Been wanting to do this all day, ever since you put this thing on,” Jaehyun rasped. The heat of his body radiated into you from where he stood between your parted legs. He was so warm up against you, and he smelled so good, you were positively light-headed with desire.

His mouth ghosted over the shell of your ear, sending a shiver through you. “You look so fucking good,” he said, teeth gently grazing the skin of your neck. “My pretty girl.” The quick press of his hips into yours pulled another moan out of you, and you braced a hand against the marble countertop.

Your fingers knocked against the edge of something sharp and sent it tumbling to the floor, where it landed with a heavier thud than you were expecting.

“What was that?” you forced out in between gasps. Jaehyun’s teeth nipped at your collarbone, showing no signs of letting up. “Wait, Jae, something fell on the floor.”

You had smashed a mug in your apartment in the midst of it once. Better safe than sorry.

Reluctantly, Jaehyun detached himself from you and bent down to retrieve the fallen item. He was breathing hard as he picked up a thick, padded envelope, and flipped it over to read the details.

“Photos,” he finally managed, tossing the package back onto the counter. “We can look at them later.”

His mouth was on you again, working at the spot between your neck and shoulder that always had your knees weak and toes curling. 

“Wait,” you giggled, “my film photos? I want to see.” He had sent the camera off almost two weeks ago, and you had been (im)patiently waiting for the developed pictures to be sent back. 

Jaehyun looked up at you with hooded eyes. “Really? You want to look at them now?”

You nodded. 

A beat passed before his face broke into a lazy smile. 

“Okay,” he chuckled softly, reaching for the envelope again. 

There was a good stack in there. The ones on top were more recent, with a few shots from his birthday that had recently passed. You had taken him ice skating at the outdoor rink atop Namsan Mountain. The twinkling lights that hung from the trees surrounding the rink were still beautiful, even through photos. Jaehyun was good at so many things that it was unfair — how could he be so talented and have a face like that? — but on that day, you discovered that ice skating was not one of his strengths, and the bruises on his tailbone could attest to that. 

“The colouring on these is really nice,” you murmured, flicking through the photos.

He hummed. “They are. This place doesn’t over-saturate the images, which is why I like them.”

A few more pictures from Christmas, where the two of you had set up a pillow fort — it had always been a childhood dream of yours — and stayed in watching movies for three whole days because it was too cold to do anything that required leaving the house. Funnily enough though, you had spent New Year’s Eve out in the cold with a few thousand others, waiting for the annual fireworks. There were a few shots of those as well. 

You neared the bottom of the stack, recognising the blur of colours that formed the crowd of the jazz festival from last year.

“All of these are out of focus,” you complained, a pout adorning your lips. The shots of the stage, of the artists, even the one of Jaehyun and the cute face he made trying to fit the burger in his mouth. Only the two pictures of you were crisply defined, because he had taken them. 

You flipped to the last photo. It was the one you took at the end of the show, during the closing bars of Lauv’s set. Miraculously, this one was in focus. You could see the press of your cheek against Jaehyun’s, and the slight surprise in his eyes as you had clicked the shutter. Lauv was nowhere to be seen, but maybe a clear shot of him as well would have been asking for too much. 

“Can I say something cheesy?” Jaehyun asked softly. 

“You’ll say it anyway.”

“I really wanted to kiss you. On this day.”

Strange, that it was these words which brought heat to your cheeks. Surely there were other things that would be more appropriate to blush about, instead of a months-late admission that was degrees more innocent than your current situation, where Jaehyun’s shirt was half undone, and the fabric of your dress was bunched up around your hips. 

“I wanted to kiss you right there, in the crowd. And then I wanted to kiss you again, here, when you made that stupid ramen joke. And when you had that chilli flake stuck on the corner of your mouth.”

You set the last photo down on the counter and turned back to Jaehyun, who was still standing between your knees. 

“And how about now?” you asked, the corners of your mouth lifting in a teasing smile. 

He cradled your chin, tilting your face towards his, and let the pad of his thumb brush over the swell of your bottom lip. 

“I think you already know the answer to that.”

The crescent moon was high and luminescent in the sky when you caught your breath again, the last few waves of euphoria ebbing away through your body. Jaehyun always indulged you.

Maybe a little too much. 

You turned to him, nestling your face into the crook of his neck and breathing in the scent of soap and his skin. A finger lazily traced over the ridges of his stomach. 

“That tickles,” he mumbled into your hair. It must’ve still been damp from the shower, but he didn’t seem to mind. Fatigue was already tugging away at him. 

“Do you want me to stop?” you asked softly, looking up at him. 

He shook his head, just slightly. “I like knowing you’re there.”

You resumed your movements, but it was only a few seconds before Jaehyun was shifting, soft laughs filling the intimate space of his bedroom.  

“That really does tickle,” he said, smile threaded into his voice. One of his hands reached for yours, pulling it up to rest against his chest. The gentle press of his lips on your forehead was a delicate thing. 

You fell asleep like that, feeling the steady beat of his heart, quiet and sure beneath your fingertips. It was warm in his hold, and safe. There was no other home you needed to know.

[mind-intheclouds342]

Do it for them - Co-captain reader x Curly

Previous - Part 12 - Next

"So we just have to wait a little longer... Here you go"

You were finishing explaining the situation to Curly while giving him his medicine, Anya was standing behind you grimacing in pain at the sounds the man made while swallowing.

Anya: "How is it that... Can you tolerate that?"

"What thing? The sounds? The burnt meat? The smell? The blood?"

You were mentioning while slowly and carefully removing the bandages from his body, the man trying to be as quiet as possible so as not to further discomfort the other woman present, but the bandages were almost stuck to his skin.

You were applying water little by little to be able to peel them off better, you had managed to get more drinkable water from the station, grateful for it since they had been without bathing or cleaning themselves to avoid wasting it for weeks now.

Anya: "Everything..."

"Well, I've been to many places, doing different jobs... I've gotten used to it."

When you saw the woman's horrified face, you realized how bad that sounded.

"I worked in morgues and crematoriums! Heavens... I didn't kill anyone."

Anya: "Seriously?"

"My dad owned a morgue and a crematorium, when I turned 18, he made me work, you have no idea how many times I had to clean my own vomit off the floor... or the corpses."

Immediately, she covered her mouth, almost vomiting at the thought of it, but you laughed at her reaction.

"That was exactly my reaction! I grew up with a strong stomach."

Anya: "How did you get here?"

You finished removing the bandages from the man, looking at his skin, you sighed knowing full well that you would have to clean it, pus was already forming in certain areas.

Anya, upon seeing that, had to turn around and hold her stomach, trying to think of something else.

"If you want to get into medical school, you have to watch this, no professor will have pity on you for having a sensitive stomach."

Anya: "I've already seen it without the bandages... But... Today they look extremely bad... I'm sorry..."

Upon saying that, she took a deep breath and turned back again, ready to help you clean her wounds.

"...I was in charge of the morgue in just a few years, and one day, while preparing bodies... I saw him, my father on the table in front of me, ready to be open and empty like any other corpse.. Three shots to the chest, some guys had robbed a store while he was in, he tried to be a hero defending the cashier, and they shot him. The thieves fled with nothing in their hands... I got depressed..."

You looked at Curly, who was watching you attentively while you told that story he already knew.

"I ran away from home... I started with drugs... and all kinds of things to get money... I went to my mother's house just to ask her for money or to eat something, I didn't care how much she begged me to stay... I just... I couldn't feel good again, and I was destroying myself to know that I was still alive."

Anya: "...How did you get out of that?"

"Because of this stubborn one"

You smiled at Curly, who soon looked away as if he weren't paying attention to what you were saying.

"He found me shoplifting in a store, and instead of turning me in, he bought the things I was taking and invited me for a coffee" you laughed, recalling that moment.

Anya: "Seriously?"

"Then he was looking for me all over the city."

Anya: "Did he want to see you again?"

"I stole his wallet."

You paused to laugh at the memory as well, before continuing with the story.

"But he insisted on keep meeting with me, on helping me, and I ended up falling for his kindness... I started living in his house, he was never around because of work, I got a job as a dog walker to have my own money while I was recovering, and he was always making sure I was okay... After years... Finally, I had the strength to see my mother again... And she felt relieved to see me well... Ugh, you have no idea the scene she made when she met Curly, so happy that i found a good man, I wanted the ground to swallow me up."

Anya: "That still doesn't tell me how you ended up as co-captain."

"...Five years ago... Curly recommended me, I did the physical and psychological exams, the training, and since I passed everything flawlessly, well... That's how I ended up here!"

You scratched your neck, smiling somewhat embarrassed that it wasn't a great story of how you became captain on your own; that was the plain truth of how you had ended up there.

You finished putting the upper bandage on Curly, ready to continue with the lower part.

Anya: "We're going to have to be careful with the catheter for this part."

Immediately, they heard Curly's complaints when they were about to remove the bandages from that part.

"Don't be like that, Curly! Anya was the one who has been changing your bandages, washing them, and put the catheter in for you; there's nothing wrong with her seeing you again."

Anya: "I think he doesn't want you to see him..."

She said a little embarrassed, you turned to look at Curly, speechless, not knowing what to say to him.

"Okay, no problem, I'm leaving."

You raised your hands to get up from your seat and leave that room. 

Anya: "You shouldn't feel ashamed, she'ss your wife after all, she'll see you again someday."

Curly shook his head slowly, he preferred that you see him again when he was recovered.

[blitzsicedcoffee]

Moxxie probably thinks he has the weirdest life.

Imagine you get caught robbing a bank during a heist and get thrown in hell jail just to meet some knucklehead who starts talking about his daughter and needing to relieve the babysitter

Then you bust out, and are prepared to go your separate ways but then he invites you back to his apartment (unless you have anywhere else to be) which you are afraid to go home so you follow him.

He lets you stay over for a while and over that time, you realize that he's a for hire assassin. A common imp job in hell, apparently. And you can possibly assist. You start an assassin duo.

You continue living with him and he pays you and finally you can afford your own apartment. You buy it in Greed but OOP, you saw the most beautiful assassin imp in greed and you NEED to meet her. So you let her take the hit. And tell your boss about her.

He brings her onto the team and you can't find words. She's so beautiful. And badass. And just amazing. Anyway.

Then within the year with your boss and admittedly he's your friend now's help, you ask her out. Within the year you're married. Kicking ass and taking names together.

Your boss then move you all to the pride ring and a new office. Very official. You feel more...real now. More professional in your career. More than you ever have.

Sure your boss can be annoying, infuriating, frustrating, and make you impatient. But he's also supportive, silly, and admittedly makes you blush sometimes. He is dashingly handsome and sexually crude after all. But you'd NEVER tell him so.

Most importantly, he took a chance on you. And that's weird because you thought that no one believed in you, until him.

[cosmic-expressions]

⋮ ♯; ⤷ YOU'RE MY FAVORITE .ᐟ

alhaitham x fem!reader, smut; tying up, cowgirl, praise, check-ins (cuz they are hot as hell too); marking (hickeys), pretty vanilla if you ask me; idk what else needs a warning wc: 665 (man so close yet so far) a/n: reblogs are nice, lemme know what you think! i wouldn't mind some feedback..... inbox is always open and maybe yall see me here a bit more often in November (unless my studies kill me lol)

having ALHAITHAM tied to the bed, laid bare for your eyes and your eyes only, is almost like a dream come true. and since he came out with this idea, something you always wanted to bring up… of course your body reacted on its own.

“does it feel good? is it tight?” you make sure he’s not in pain, that he’s comfortable because the last thing you want to do is hurt him while fulfilling your little fantasy. but when he assures you all is well, you can’t hide the excitement coursing through you. “you’re so pretty like this… i mean- you’re always pretty and handsome but this is- i really like it like that…”

ALHAITHAM smiles and lets out a little chuckle, his body growing warm and face getting red thanks to your words; also, something about your hungry stare, about you clearly enjoying it, and about pleasing you like that… it gets him going as well.

you straddle his lap, plopping softly on it; the feeling of your soft, plushy thighs against his skin only fuels his desire and need, making him let out a little, somewhat impatient, sound. but you’re no better, feeling him grow harder underneath you, seeing his every reaction, you just can’t help and whimper softly. leaning in, you place your lips on his, kissing him slowly at first, just to get greedy right after.

normally, ALHAITHAM would hold your hips, would have his hands all over you, and would make sure it’s really you on top of him; but not it’s you who gets to touch him all over. getting handsy, he can feel the rough possessiveness in your touch, in every caress and rub.

“you’re so- mmmh, just- perfect,” you mutter between the kisses, humming and moaning quietly. with hands all over his upper body, you graze your fingertips over his muscles, making sure to leave a trace of fiery passion.

“baby-” ALHAITHAM lets out a short groan when you start rubbing yourself against him, a little teasing but also a preparation for what’s to come. “you’re a- you’re a tease-”

“i know, i know,” kissing him again, you continue the slow movements a little more. you two moan into each other’s mouth, bodies reacting and moving in an almost synchronized pace. “just a little more- a little more- i know you can-”

muttering soft praises and encouragements, you trail your lips down, leaving kisses across his cheek, jaw, and neck; in every place you know will get a reaction from him. “

oh- fuck! baby you’re-!” ALHAITHAM groans again, jaw clenching when you finally take him inside you, your tight and slick walls inviting and nestling his cock so sweetly. with your weak moans and whimpers accompanying your movements, it’s just a matter of time for him to go insane.

you reach for his palm and hold it tight, kissing him softly and lovingly, all while you move up and down on him. ALHAITHAM throbs and moans, loving how your hand feels small and warm wrapped around his own. kissing you back, shamelessly eager, ALHAITHAM bucks his hips up, reaching deep inside; reaching and pressing on all the sweet and sensitive places that have you breathless in seconds.

“fuck-! fuck, alhaitham!” you moan and throw your head back, losing it to the pleasure.

he’s fast to suck on your neck and leave soft kisses all over your cleavage, something that became a small habit of his. a little familiar thing, grounding him at the moment; the feeling of your warm skin, of your pulse underneath his lips, the warm and shallow breaths over his ear – it’s all he loves and needs to be sure you feel good and safe with him. safe enough to let yourself free and feral, safe enough to take him like you want and not be ashamed of it. that’s what causes his heart to flutter aggressively in his chest… and to cum inside you immediately, filling you up and stretching you well.

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