#i did write a fanfic once and i knew it before then but yeah getting comments on it felt great!

[lieran03]

Raising Their Voice

Love and Deepspace Fanfic

The usual calm and soft men who never raise their voice suddenly did so in front of you, and that's only to protect you

Genre: fluff/slice of life Pairing: Zayne x fem!reader Words: 2.017 Warning: none!

Writing commission || Ko-fi || AO3 acc

Xavier's || Rafayel's || Sylus' || Caleb's

Based on THIS request

Everyone knows how calm and collected Zayne is, especially when he is at the hospital, working and going through the operation he needed to. He never raised his voice, not to the doctors who did something wrong, not to the nurses, and especially to his favorite patient slash person, the Hunter, who has been his childhood friend. Although there might be times he raised his voice in operation when a mess occurred, he never really got angry.

Even when his dearest always tries to bring that kind of emotion to him, wanting to know how he will react and how he will act around, he always knows it first, and that ended up with him being the one to tease her. In the end, the one who got angry was her instead of him. He likes to see the way she raised her voice, getting worked up by her own pranks, and getting irritated at him which makes her look cute.

“Your check-up is done, nothing is concerning enough, except that you must have been losing sleep lately.”

“Yeah, I guess because a certain someone wasn’t there to lull me to sleep.” Zayne knew she was talking about him. With countless surgeries and patients he needed to tend, going back home was hard.

“I admit that I’m at fault for that, but aside from that, you push yourself again.”

“Okay, Doctor Zayne is in working full mode now.”

It was another teasing remark given to him that made him shut his lips. More words are coming from him, and she will probably tease him to death. A sigh to show his defeat can be heard before he rubs his temple, feeling dizzy just by thinking and imagining how the conversation will go if he continues. The smiles on her face made him feel better, and he started to act serious again.

“Wait for me downstairs, I will end my shift in a while and we can have dinner together.”

“Is this how you pay me for missing all the nights?” Noticing that the teasing had started back, Zayne also decided to do the same.

“I just thought that the dessert shop I haven’t been able to go to now has a new menu. Sharing is always caring, right? I wanted to share the dessert with you.”

The conversation ended fast when Zayne got a call from Greyson. Knowing that there wasn’t anything else he needed to check, he bid his goodbye, adding that she told him he needed to check the patient fast. Once Zayne was nowhere to be seen, she went out of his check-up room. Although it was night, the hospital was still as busy as it could get, filling the hospital spaces.

Before she could get to the place where she usually waited for Zayne, another doctor whom she knew very well called out to her. A small smile appeared on her lips, greeting the doctor quite excitedly. After all, before knowing Zayne, the doctor in front of her was the one to take care of her and always check her up, giving her the opportunity to push her limits so she could enter the Hunter Association exam.

“Are you here for a general check-up with your current physician, or did you have an injury while doing a Hunter job?”

“I think it’s kind of like the two,” she answered with a light tone. Knowing her previous doctor, she also knows that joking with them is a normal thing. Responding to her words, a chuckle can be heard before a pat was given to her shoulder.

This time, with a serious look, the doctor said, “I hope that there’s nothing wrong with your body now. Your current physician was Dr. Zayne, right? You’re in good hands. I trust you with him, and you better listen to him too.”

A short conversation that starts with just mere greetings turns into a story time. The doctor kept making sure that he didn’t have any patients he needed to tend at the moment, and he only handled emergencies after getting older. At the same time, she also knows that Zayne wouldn’t be around just an hour after their departure, giving her a moment to have a conversation with her previous attending doctor.

“I guess we have to part here. I’m taking your time, right?”

“It’s okay, I was waiting for someone too.”

The smile she gives to the doctor eases his worries before he bids his goodbye, meeting a resident along the way and going into a serious mood. Seeing that she didn’t have anything else to do and didn’t want to make Zayne wait for her, she went straight to the place where she usually waited for Zayne. Part of her was scared to find the man already there.

What kind of response would Zayne give if she appears a bit late?

However, before she could have gone too far, a resident who was running pushed her. Normally, when others bumped into her, she wouldn’t find any problem, nor would she get affected by it. Yet, with the most unexpected times, added to the amount of force given, she couldn’t help but push down to the floor, feeling a bit lost, and look around her.

The resident’s things from his hand were thrown to the floor, an indication that the collision had just now. Even though questions still filled her mind, she started to gather the things, not wanting to get the resident into trouble. A little pain can also be felt around her shoulder, but she decided to turn a blind eye to it.

What’s important is the resident didn’t get into trouble because of her.

“Here’s your things. Next time, be careful.”

It should be just a normal reminder, especially to the resident who must be tired of working endlessly. Part of her also imagines about how the resident would get scolded for being reckless and even bumping into a patient. Trying to ease the fear inside them, she offered a kind smile, hoping it would tell the latter that she was not angry at the accident. She was okay with it.

When she thought a kind response was what she would get after that, the resident was evidently looking at her up and down as if wanting to make sure that she was not hurt. Once they confirmed something, they harshly took the things from her hand, visibly glaring and giving a low, dissatisfied sound to her, a sound that succeeded in making her back down a few steps back.

“If you’re not a patient, why are you wandering around here?! It would be bad if the person who bumped into you was any other doctor!”

“I was …?” There were no words coming from her lips, trying to understand what was currently happening to her. Did she get scolded when the resident was in the wrong?

“See? You’re not even aware that you just made a mistake! Imagine if the person you just bumped into was a real doctor, they would probably get mad at you and … ah! Whatever, you’re in the way. I was in a rush, and you just appeared so suddenly that it disturbed my work.”

“I’m … sorry?” The apology came too abruptly, that she didn’t even know the reason for her apology. Is it because she didn’t look around? Or is it because she accidentally bumped into them? Shouldn’t the resident be the one to look around to make sure they didn’t mess up? “But, I think you should have watched where you’re going, too.”

Couldn’t accept the fact that she was being blamed, words to show her dissatisfaction can be heard. At first, the resident was ready to walk away, not talking or making the issue bigger. However, the words spoken just now made them stop and look back, trying to see if what they had heard just now was real. They didn’t like how suddenly it became their fault. The glare was prominent, making her feel uncomfortable once again.

“Did you just say that I was the one making a fault here?”

The tone given shows hatred, making the situation more intense than it should have been. “I’m sorry?”

This time, not trying to cover her feelings, she purposely let out the tone she has been holding back, hoping it could portray just how angry she is right now. Whoever this resident is, they must have seen anyone except a patient as someone annoying. Something common to be seen in some of the residents who could get to Akso Hospital.

“Ah … is it because you’re a Hunter that you think you’re almighty and important? I guess it’s quite dumb and ….”

The words were never finished, and in addition, she felt as if someone was standing behind her. Before she could turn back to see who the person was, a hand finally rested on her back, as if to show intimacy. At the same time, the person who came leaning down, speaking to her in a gentle voice, and showing concern.

“You’re not hurt, are you?”

It was Zayne.

For a few moments, the resident could only watch as the renowned Doctor Zayne was putting his full attention to the girl standing beside him, making sure she was not injured or had any bruises uncalled for. Once he was sure, and he listened to the girl's plea that she was okay, his gaze finally fell to the resident in front of him, showing no amusement.

“She’s a patient here. Just because someone didn’t wear a hospital gown doesn’t mean that they’re not a patient. Is this how you would treat those who aren’t your patient?”

“N-no … that’s not ….” Zayne’s voice wasn’t shouting, yet it was firm, showing his dominance. “I’m sorry, Doctor.”

“You should have said sorry to her, not me.” There was nothing that came after Zayne’s words, leaving the girl to look up and see Zayne had furrowed eyebrows, not liking how the resident still denied he was at fault. “Did you hear me or not? That you should have apologized to her and not me.”

With the raised voice coming from the-collected-and-calm-Doctor-Zayne, the resident finally stammered and said his apology, running away before Zayne could say anything else, and before the girl could say it was okay. Once the resident was nowhere to be seen, she finally stared at Zayne, facing her body to him.

“You raised your voice, I guess it was the first. And it was for me, should I be happy or concerned?”

“You shouldn’t have let others push you like that … and I didn’t mean literally.” Zayne put his hand onto the girl’s shoulder, feeling around to make sure that she didn’t dislocate it by accident.

“They’re in a hurry, I can understand that.”

“Yes. But still, it was their fault. Running into a patient, blaming the patient—or not. Even after that, they still didn’t say sorry because they realized they’re at fault.” The moment Zayne assured there was nothing concerning, he finally held the girl’s hand. “I was on my way down to meet you when I saw them bump into you, I thought it was nice of you to help them pick up their things. however, from afar, I can show how irritated they are … that’s when I decided to step in. I hope I didn’t interfere with you.”

“A low chuckle can be heard from her before she swings the hands held by Zayne, finds it amusing how Zayne easily tells the story. “No, no. I was glad. If you didn’t come, I might punch them in the face, and I might get a warning for doing so.”

“I could imagine,” was Zayne’s only response, holding her hand tighter when they reached the parking lot.

“And anyway, Zayne.” Before Zayne could open the car’s door, his attention was brought to the girl who was waiting. “Your voice does sound sexy when you raise it like that. I wonder how it would sound if you got angrier than that.”

[jademonument]

I'm historically awful at using like, literally any social media. not even intentionally, I just don't think Good Social Media Practices have ever been ingrained in me. maybe in part because I've very rarely ever actually made anything to put into the metaphorical pot myself. idk, who knows

[mercy-burning]

Exposure

AKA: a gentle rewrite/edit of Part 1, plus the rest of the story.

Pairing: therapist!Spencer Reid x fem!Reader Summary: After a year of self-inflicted social isolation, a rather intimate suggestion from your therapist turns your life on its head and opens up a whole new world of cliche, sexy possibilities... Category: SMUT (18+) Content: Themes and discussions of sexual trauma surrounding a painful sexual encounter, power dynamics, masturbation, dubious consent, voyeurism (unbeknownst to reader), Spencer is a perv, fingering, oral sex (fem. receiving), dry humping. Word Count: 9.6k (I had to cut her down, y'all, it was getting ridiculous and I'm sorry flsjdlksdk)

MASTERLIST

It is finally here. I have finally tackled the beast and finished Exposure the way the fanfic gods intended. I initially wanted this story to be what is is now and what you're about to read, but back when I wrote it the first time, I had ZERO self control and decided to just post what I had without finishing the rest, and I split the story into two parts... And then part two never saw the light of day. I have felt so bad ever since for abandoning the story and leaving you without a conclusion. I hope you'll forgive me and that it hasn't been too long for you to still care and read this now. And if you weren't around to read the original first part of Exposure, I hope you enjoy this brand new story that totally didn't exist before just now... ;)

———

ACT I: Homework

"And what about your sexual relationships?"

You freeze like a deer in headlights, unwilling to budge no matter how loudly his horn is blaring. Even as he asks again, your name a gentle coax on the surface of his tongue, you remain perfectly still.

"Did I strike a nerve?" he asks sweetly with a tilt of his head.

"U—Um... I..."

"It's important that you're up-front about these things with me... It's more than acceptable and valid if you don't feel like telling me everything right away. But if there's something wrong, I'd like to know. That way we can at least find somewhere to start. Does that sound alright?"

"Um... Y—Yeah, I guess so..."

He asks again, and you find it extremely difficult to look him in the eye.

Or to look at him in general.

You knew eventually you'd have to talk about your sex life, but in all honesty it had been forced deep into the back of your mind during the other sessions— You know, when you were laser-focused on literally anything else while trying not to think about how attractive you found your therapist and how fucked up that was.

Doctor Reid always makes sure to speak slow and concisely, which, when combined with its smooth tone and the way he looks at you with his pensive, hypnotizing eyes, tends to be absolutely fucking deadly. And his hands— the way they glide beautifully across the notepad he writes in, or how they flex and tap on his knee or on his chin from time to time, his focus trained solely on you...

He'd been dangerously distracting from the get-go, but now, on the topic of your sex life? You can't even entertain looking in his general direction.

So, with your eyes glued on your lap, you mindlessly count the number of tiny flowers printed on your skirt and answer the best you can. "I don't... I don't have frequent sexual relationships."

You wonder if he'll ask you to speak up, but he doesn't. Instead, he asks, "How frequent would you say they are?"

"Um... Well... I've only ever had sex once," you continue quietly, still training your eyes on your skirt.

"Are you... embarrassed about that?"

"No," you offer more firmly. Defensively.

He pauses. "That's good. There's no reason to be." And after you don't say anything in response, counting seven excruciatingly long seconds, you hear him continue. "How long ago was the encounter?"

You hesitate a little longer, but he doesn't push it. Eventually, intimidated by the silence, you sigh and quickly blurt, "About a year ago."

There's another pause, and you would assume he might be writing something down, but the room is too silent. Not even the soft scratch of pen to page dares to interrupt the tension you're feeling.

"And how did you find your experience?" he asks then, your eyes jumping to his face as if to make sure this is actually real and he's actually in front of you right now, asking you what you think you just heard. Your heart speeds up and your hands start to sweat.

"I—I'm sorry?"

He clears his throat, and yours contracts in a gulp. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

"I... I don't... Why is that relevant?"

"You're coming to me once a week for counseling because you said you've found yourself shying away from other people, where a year ago you were a normal adult with normal interests in socializing and being around others. And you're unsure of what steps to take to get back to a normal routine. Correct?"

"Yes..."

"Every session so far, we've gone through your upbringing, your family life, school, friends, your first jobs... All up until now. Everything is perfectly fine, and yet we still can't seem to figure out why you've strayed from your habits. The only topic we haven't discussed is your sexual and romantic relationships."

You remain silent, eyes having dropped back down as he spoke, the flower pattern on your skirt suddenly becoming more like a dizzying optical illusion by the second.

Doctor Reid continues. "And judging your body language, I see that you haven't looked me in the eye once since I brought up sex. My guess is that something happened during your first time that—"

"Look, honestly I don't think that's relevant to my situation, I haven't had sex since then because I don't want to, it has nothing to do with this."

"It's okay if it does," Doctor Reid encourages. He is gentle as always, though if you hadn't known any better, you would think he sounds amused. "That's what I'm here for."

You glance up at him briefly, seeing a soft smile lighting the air between you. It briefly filters some of the embarrassment you're feeling, and with a sigh, you adjust in the chair and look off to the side.

"No. I didn't enjoy myself."

"Do... you want to tell me why you didn't enjoy yourself?"

You blink, feeling your chest tighten and your stomach churn at the memory. "It's stupid."

He calls your name gently, sympathetically... "I promise you it isn't... We don't have to discuss it now if you don't want to, but it's not stupid."

Thankfully he lets you mull it over in the silence for a while, giving you time to gather your emotions and thoughts. And eventually, without looking directly at him, you begin to open up.

"He hurt me... I—It wasn't... bad or anything, like he didn't do anything I didn't want to... I just... I—It hurt. Really bad. Like, I don't think I'd ever felt that kind of pain before."

"Did he, um... Go too hard? Do you think maybe that's why it hurt you?"

You let out the loudest breath of air, embarrassment and exasperation filling your lungs with every breath you take. "Yeah, that was part of it, but like... He was also kind of big, and it didn't feel good going in at all... And I know it's supposed to not feel great at first, and I thought it would get better, but... I—It just got worse, and worse, and I felt like I was getting torn apart from the inside out, I..."

Tears are steadily streaming down your face now, your throat incredibly tight and ears pounding as you try to find the strength to speak.

"I... I never want to do that again."

A box of tissues is dropped into your lap after you take the time to gather yourself a bit, and you mumble a small 'thank you' as you wipe your face. Doctor Reid is more than willing to let you take your time, and you couldn't be more thankful.

It's also great to know that it doesn't seem like he had been embarrassed for you or ready to laugh. In fact, his tone is still as smooth as ever, and incredibly warm as he speaks to you, aiming to help you work through this confidently and logically. It's an effort that comforts you more than you'd ever be able to express.

"Do you think that experience had an effect on the way you socialize somehow?"

"I... Maybe. Sure, I mean... I'm at that age where the people I hang out with all want to hook up, and if we're not trying to go home with someone, then we're not having a good time. It's... It's a lot of pressure, especially when I think about the fact that people like sex... I mean, like... That was awful, and people act like it's the end-all-be-all to enjoyment, I... I don't know..."

"Sure... You had a bad experience, and it's normal to retreat after experiencing that kind of pain... But it was only one time. You never know, maybe your partner just wasn't the right partner for you."

You shake your head intently. "No. No, that's not..."

There's a decent pause before Doctor Reid speaks again. "I want to ask you something... And this might be a bit personal, so I apologize if I push any boundaries..."

He waits for you to object, but you don't, silently giving him the go-ahead and wondering what else he could possibly ask you that hadn't already been beyond the boundaries of a deeply intimate and personal conversation.

"Have you ever masturbated before?"

Dear God, you suddenly feel like you have to throw up. "What?"

"Well, before you had sex... Did you ever... Explore what you like on your own?"

"Um... Y—Yeah, I guess so..."

"You guess so?"

You sigh, trying not to roll your eyes for fear of crying at any sudden movement. "Yes."

"Okay... In your exploration, did you ever try anything penetrative?"

"Do I actually have to answer that?"

"Of course you don't. If you're uncomfortable we can move on, but... I really do think this is going to help..."

You sigh again, then swallow hard as you look at his face once more, only to see him as he always has been— sincere and pensive and understanding. And then, as if that look is designed solely to pull information out of you, you can't help but continue.

"No... I've... only ever done clitoral stimulation."

"And what about after your first time? Have you masturbated since then?"

You pause, throat dry. The word comes out of you with resistance, its fear and indignity rising to the surface of your tongue like sandpaper. "No."

Then he pauses. And as you glance up at the clock to see your time is nearly up, you're pretty sure you know exactly what he's going to tell you, that sinking feeling returning to the pit of your stomach. Each breath feels like a stab to the chest.

Sure enough, he speaks and you close your eyes like shielding yourself from his words will prevent them from taking any meaning. You can hear the sympathy in them anyway, and you feel foolish for even attempting to hide.

"Before I see you next week, I suggest you try masturbating again. Maybe watch some pornography or read some erotica... Whatever you think will get you more comfortable with your body and your sexuality... And we'll see where you end up."

The whole situation is so ridiculous, you can't help but laugh, though there's not an ounce of humor lacing the sound. "Do you really think this is going to help me get over my... fear of sex, or whatever this is?"

He smiles softly at you, and despite the poor relationship you've been having with sex, it brings a low simmer to the pit of your stomach that scares more than excites you. "It's a good start."

It's a good start...

"It's a good start," you whispered when you got home that night, right before getting under the covers and letting your hand wander...

It worked, too.

You'd expected it to take way longer than a week to get back any sliver of libido. And it was definitely hard at first, but by the time your next session with Doctor Reid came around, you'd been masturbating regularly every day.

Though, it seems his instruction may have worked a little too well.

Once you were more comfortable with your own body again, you couldn't stop the images of his face as they danced in beautiful flashes behind your eyelids. Scenarios were acted out in your dreams, his presence melding with yours and replacing those you'd watched and read, and it created a new sense of anxiety once you realized that you'd have to see him again in a few days...

And now that you're here, only seconds away from the moment he'd walk through the door, your stomach twists and your heart leaps.

You almost think maybe running out the door is a good option, but then he's waltzing through it with that seasoned swiftness that only adds to his charm and intimidates you further.

"Good afternoon," he greets with a warm smile, taking the seat in front of you.

"Hi, Doctor."

"How was your week?"

You clear your throat, obviously not very good at hiding anything. "Fine."

"Just fine?"

"Yep."

He only waits for you to continue. You hate when he does that...

Because it works, getting you to talk every damn time. "Still not inclined to do anything out of my normal social routine, but I'm... better."

"How so?"

Feeling his gaze on you makes your heart lurch. "Um... I'm more... comfortable... with my body, I guess..."

"So you took my suggestion, then?"

You can only muster a nod, words dying in the back of your throat and evaporating into nothing. You're still not looking at him—not directly, anyway.

"You still seem... reserved."

"Well, I'm talking to my therapist about my masturbation habits..."

Thankfully he seems to understand, nodding with a small laugh that aims to lighten the mood and make you more comfortable around the whole situation. After all, it is only the start of your session this week, and a whole hour and a half of awkwardness wouldn't suffice.

Even still, what he says next doesn't ease your mind much at all.

"Do you mind elaborating a little?"

"I don't know how much more elaboration you need," you half-scoff, clearly defensive over your privacy— And with every right to be so, considering most of your thoughts had been about him.

"Well, let's start with how frequent you've been with it."

That you could do. "Um... about every day for the past week?" And right before I left the house...

"Good. How many times a day?"

"Once." Twice, sometimes three...

"Okay..." He writes things down, and then pauses before asking his next question. "Have you tried any new techniques?"

"I'm sorry?"

"I mean other than clitoral stimulation."

"No."

He must have sensed the unease in your punctuation, because he leans forward. "Let me be clear. My questions on the topic are thorough and perhaps a bit boundless, but I am not expecting you to be ready to have sex right away. You should always be allowed to go at your own pace, and I will always encourage you to do so, I hope you understand that."

"Right..." There's an awkward pause, but you want things to keep moving, so just to keep him talking, you clear your throat and continue, "So, um... What's the next step then?"

By the look in his eyes, you realize it had probably been the wrong question—and way—to ask. Even after just explaining that you could go at your own pace, the way you spoke to him could have easily been interpreted as a newfound confidence to push forward.

Currently, under his watchful gleaming eye, you find yourself feeling anything but confident. In the past week, unfortunately, that much hasn't changed. Especially after he tells you, "We're going to make sure you've actually been doing your homework. Come with me."

———

There's just something about you that Spencer can't seem to understand. It's something beautiful and alluring, and more than anything it's incredibly wrong. Because he surely shouldn't be taking you to a separate room in the building where they interview mental patients while others watch from behind one-way glass and take notes.

But here he is anyway, leading you into the room and trying desperately not to kiss or touch you in the meantime...

"W—What do you want me to do, exactly?" you ask in that timid way of yours. It's almost innocent, like you truly don't understand why he's brought you here rather than confirming your suspicions. And somehow that only makes him want you more.

"I would like for you to watch yourself masturbate in front of this mirror here." He opens the door and urges you inside as he follows. You survey the space as your hands fumble nervously, and he continues. "It's a form of exposure therapy. My hope is to get you not only to feel your pleasure, but to see it... The act of seeing yourself that way is a good effort to boost confidence and embrace sexuality. The room is soundproof, it's camera-free... Whatever you do in here will be completely private."

"I—Isn't this like... This... I..."

Spencer reaches out and touches your shoulder, and when you look at him like a lost puppy, he nearly caves. "I understand your reservations, and you are more than welcome to decline... But I really do think this will help you. You're completely safe here, it's important for you to know that."

He's speaking to you in that slow, collected way that always gets you to open up to him, and it proves itself useful once again when you finally nod and agree to do his assignment. He smiles tamely, though the images that grace his brain of what might transpire soon are anything but. The pit of his gut is a raging wildfire, and you, though deeply unaware just yet, are the fuel that feeds and flourishes it.

"What do I do when I'm done?" you ask.

He reaches into his pocket and gives you a pager. "You can page me with this. I'll be in my office, so by the time I get to you, you should have enough time to get yourself situated. Is that okay?"

"You're... Leaving me alone?"

The question almost knocks the wind out of him. To play it off though, he offers a small, breathy laugh. "Did you want me to watch?"

"That's not what I meant! I... I just mean... Anyone could..."

"Like I said, this room is completely safe and soundproof. I've booked it for your session today, so no one will be here to use it..." He thinks for a moment, suppressing a grin to the best of his ability when the words come tumbling out. "There is a room right next door if you'd prefer I stay closer though, just in case."

"Y—Yes, please..."

Spencer smiles and hands you the pager, trying not to linger too long when his knuckles brush the inside of your palm. "Okay. Page me when you're done, and I'll give you a few minutes to collect yourself. Okay?"

"Okay," you offer with a nod and a small smile. Your nerves have calmed, and maybe this helps Spencer feel better about what he's about to do, but regardless of his ulterior motives, he truly is glad you're making progress.

He leaves and shuts the door, locking it and making quick work of sliding into the small door next to it. After locking that one as well, he switches on the light and settles in, seeing that you've only just sat down on the small couch in the middle of the room.

You both lean back at about the same time, you into the couch cushions and Spencer in the spinning desk chair. It doesn't take but a single movement of your hand down to the button of your jeans to make him hard, and the sight has him even more determined to make you feel the same way about him that he does you.

It's set in stone the moment you slide the denim down your legs and spread them wide, right in front of him. He watches as you take a deep breath and rub yourself through your panties, little pieces of your hesitation crumbling away by the second, and he just knows he's going to fuck you properly.

When, he doesn't know. But it will happen, that much he's sure of.

In the meantime, he settles for fantasy. Spencer opens up his own pants and just loosens them enough to get his dick out, and all the while his eyes are trained solely on you.

He doesn't start moving his hand until you slide your panties down as well, fluttering your eyes closed the moment your finger makes contact with your bare clit. In that moment, Spencer is glad for the soundproofing, because if you'd actually heard the way he groaned out just then, he would have been doomed. He spits on his hand and starts to glide it softly over himself, matching the speed of your own as it languidly explores your body.

All he can think about is how beautiful you are... He should be thinking about how wrong this is, or how you probably don't feel the same attraction to him that he so obviously feels about you, and doing this is only making his crush worse...

But damn it, you're just so captivating, and he can't stop.

And he doesn't.

No, Spencer doesn't even give a second thought to sighing out your name and imagining you in front of him—closer than you are now—with your head tilted up and your pretty eyes batting up at him while he fucks your throat. He mindlessly whispers praises in between low whines as his speed and pressure increases, and he's so close to coming.

He can hold out, though. He can wait for you. He wants to wait for you. He wants to watch you come undone before he even thinks about getting there himself.

But of course, as they say, you don't always get what you want.

It's not like it's his fault, though. You're the one who's losing yourself in a fantasy, using his name on your lips as a plea to aid you in the most intimate form of pleasure...

"Doctor Reid," he can hear you whine as you squirm and bring yourself closer to bliss.

He can't help it, then. His name desperately falling off your tongue sets off the explosion that ripples through his insides. His hand falters, and he releases the most pathetic sound he's ever made right as he comes all over his hand. You're calling his name again, in broken chants getting higher and higher in pitch until you're incoherent, and he's just a sticky, flustered mess.

He sits there and watches you reach your climax, still gently stroking his cock with a lip between his teeth. Your eyes squeeze shut and your mouth hangs open, and your legs, while still wide, are wavering and tensing. His eyes travel down to your hand as it strokes and circles, and he wishes more than anything that it was his.

In fact, the thought gives him an idea for another session...

ACT II: Awakening

The amount of time you've spent the last month watching porn is extremely embarrassing. It's not even just to get off anymore, either, though the relief is nice. Still, the act itself doesn't embarrass you so much as where your mind goes when you do it. You're purposely watching videos where the men have slim builds and curly hair so you can squint and imagine who you really wish you were watching...

It's wrong and dangerous and probably illegal somehow, and still, it's a better place than you were in months ago... So you can't really complain, can you?

Yes, really, you can; You still have to see your therapist while regularly having sexual fantasies about him. Which would be fine if you didn't have to talk to him about your sexual habits every session...

You almost think about cancelling today, but despite the overwhelming amount of time spent thinking about sex and how much you actually want it, you figure that means this therapy is helping. Yourself a month ago would be absolutely petrified at the idea of watching some girl get railed on screen repeatedly, vivid flashbacks of your first and final experience of sex surely to barge in and render the porn and its purpose useless.

So, despite the potential awkwardness, you end up in his office right on time.

Doctor Reid is already there, standing next to a small fold-out bed in the middle of the room with the rest of the furniture moved out of the way. It almost looks like a completely different place.

"Oh, am... Did I get the wrong time?"

He calls your name brightly, turning to see you. "You're right on time, actually. Come on in. I want to talk about your next step... I assume you've been keeping up with your homework?"

You swear then that you must still be in your bedroom, watching porn on a loop, weary and orgasmed out, because you can instantly feel the setup here; It wouldn't be hard to put the pieces together. The cliche nature of it all makes you think you might just be blurring reality and fantasy, your legs weak as you make your way over to him.

"Yes, I have..." you confirm cautiously, though the back of your mind is already battling over whether or not to be excited or scared, or both, at the prospect of this 'next step'. Is it something you're really willing to do? Is it in the realm of comfortable possibility?

Doctor Reid smiles at you, and, Yes, you think finally, it is.

"Well, you've done really well lately, and I'm proud of you for taking this journey in rediscovering your sexuality. It isn't an easy feat after going through what you did, and your progress is something you should be very proud of."

Admittedly, the praise is nice. It's comforting. Genuine. You really have progressed in embracing your sexual desires, though the thought of trusting someone enough to respect your boundaries and understand your reservations to the act itself is nearly sickening.

Unless, of course, that person is your therapist. Then it's not so hard to imagine.

Your body warms at the implications, and suddenly you're nervous all over again, your eyes trying not to eye the bed in the middle of the room. Through a deep breath, you tell him, "Thank you. What's on the agenda today?"

The small laugh that escapes him has you weak in the knees again. "Eager, are we?"

Oh, there's no way he's not flirting...

Right?

You shrug and offer a smile. "You did renovate your office rather... drastically... Excuse a girl for being curious, Doctor."

"Touché," he replies. His syllables are slow and smooth, and when his eyes bare into yours, reality and fantasy have moved past the point of blurring— they've full-on collided, creating this new atmosphere of thick, palpable debauchery that promises to alter the course of your life forever.

You want to jump his bones now, before something changes your mind, but you can't move. The possibility of misreading the situation is far too humiliating to make any sudden movements or declarations of desire.

"Please, sit," Doctor Reid invites, and you calm a little. Your limbs are still on fire with each muscle that moves, until you're seated on the bed, looking up at him and trying not to give yourself away.

Just in case.

If he can tell what's going on in your brain, he doesn't let on. Still, there's something that lives in his gaze, something knowing and all-consuming that calms your nerves like a weighted blanket as his voice plunges you further into this fantastical reality you've created together.

"Like I said, it seems that you've been succeeding at rediscovering and maintaining a healthy sexual appetite. How does that make you feel?"

"Um... Really good, actually. I think I've come a long way, and it's all because of you."

It hadn't been intentional to phrase it that way, but as soon as the words leave your mouth and his lips quirk into a gentle smirk, you avert your gaze, clutching the edge of the bed. "I mean, your suggestions and your kindness have been extremely helpful..."

"That's what I'm here for," he says, amusement lacing his tone, but disappearing quickly as he continues. "Now, I know it's only been just over a month, and it's still absolutely imperative that you do this at your own pace. So if you find yourself feeling like you're not ready to move forward when I ask you this, you are not obligated to agree. Is that understood?"

Your heart is beating wildly within the confines of your chest, daring to and desperate for escape. "Yes, Doctor."

His tongue darts out over his bottom lip as the honorific trickles sweetly off of yours, and then he clears his throat, taking a step closer to you. "Do you trust me?"

"Yes." There isn't a single ounce of hesitation in the meaning of the word or the speed at which it leaves your mouth. It's not even a second thought.

"My hope for today's session is to get you to a place where you're comfortable with trying different techniques. And if you don't mind, I'd like to assist—to show you some new pleasure points and help you discover what you like. Is that something you're willing to do?"

You nod slowly, words feeling impossible, which brings a small smile to his face.

"Okay, a few rules. This is a very vulnerable thing. So you need to use your words. I'm not comfortable moving forward unless you explicitly say so, so I ask you again; Do you give me permission to help you experiment?"

"Yes."

Firm. Some might even say confident. The word rings sharply in the air for a few moments before Doctor Reid nods and responds quietly, "Good."

He walks over to you, slowly until his knees are barely touching yours. You feel yourself becoming a living current of electricity at the sheer closeness of him, never mind that he hasn't even touched you. You can only imagine what it will feel like when he does, the thought making you fight the urge to clamp your thighs together.

"Do I have your permission to touch you?"

Touch me how? you want to ask, but you realize it wouldn't matter; You'd let him touch you in any way he pleased. So instead, you tell him, "Please."

His eyes rake slowly over your figure then, possibly considering his next move, but then he simply nudges your knee with his leg, the most brief form of touch but still electrifying all the same. "Will you hold your right leg out for me?"

Not quite what you would have expected, but you do as he says, extending your leg as he rests his palm under your ankle.

"Are you familiar with erogenous zones?"

Your heart leaps. "Yes. I know the concept."

He considers this before slightly swiping his thumb along the side of your ankle. "Are you familiar with your erogenous zones?"

"I can't say I've ever thought about it, so... Probably not, no."

"Hmmm."

Honestly, you figure it wouldn't even matter where he touched you; The fact that he's taken an interest in your sexual desires and putting them to the test with an attentive, hands-on approach is more than enough to get you hot and bothered. The sheer presence of him alone makes your whole body pulse with writhing need.

Still, you let him explore, trying not to prove impatient. It's incredibly difficult when the denim of your jeans slowly becomes nothing more than a claustrophobic obstacle to his attention. Everywhere his fingers brush, heat radiates, but you know it could be stronger. You try your hardest to focus on his questions and less on the signals your body is sending you, violently and utterly whorish. You'd never been this way before, not even by yourself, and you're becoming less and less patient by the minute

Doctor Reid seems to notice this as his knuckles brush the inside of your palm, a ghost of a smile on his lips. "Are you relaxed?" he asks quietly, keeping his head low but lifting his eyes to meet yours. Something about the sight stirs in your stomach.

"Yes."

"You don't sound very convinced."

You can't help but succumb to the bout of nervous laughter that's been dancing in its cage in the back of your throat the whole session. His fingers halt their gentle discovery of your body but remain rested in your palm, every nerve ending threatening to explode. "Well, I don't know if relaxed is really the right word, but... I'm... Good."

He hums pensively, pausing to tilt his head. "You've been responding rather enthusiastically to just about every touch..." If he's amused by this, you can't tell, but the words feel like a prideful observation regardless. "I suppose that means we can move this along..."

When his eyes meet yours again, you nearly whimper.

"May I kiss you?" he asks.

His knuckles start moving slowly against your palm, and your entire arm lights up with excitement at the contact, as does your heart. Suddenly the room feels cold yet hot at the same time, a deep chill crashing through your body like a tidal wave. Your nipples are painfully hard against the fabric of your bra, and you feel it in your bones.

You've never been so turned on in your life.

You nod, then stop yourself, remembering his rules. The word sounds utterly wanton as it gently squeaks past your lips, but it's the best you can do to give him permission short of reaching up and pulling him down to kiss him yourself.

"Please..."

He surprises you again by stepping forward and lifting your arm to his mouth. Sticky honey eyes trap you in their gaze as his lips replace his knuckles on the inside of your palm, soft and warm in every aspect. He takes his time, grazing his nose along your fingers and then your wrist as he drops the gentle pressure of a kiss along every centimeter of skin he explores. It's thorough and attentive and gentle, and you're mesmerized.

Eventually he's kissed his way up your whole arm, and it feels like you've been in this bed for hours, something slowly awakening inside you at his every touch. The excitement bubbling in your bloodstream starts to boil over when he reaches your collarbone, using his hand to slip under the strap of your tank top so he can kiss you there.

Responding to his touch has become second nature at this point, so your head leans away and gives him room to start kissing your neck, to which he does happily.

Where Doctor Reid's kisses had been kind and curious in their pursuit, they've now grown indulgent. His lips part, lavishing the skin at the side of your neck with a warm, wet caress that makes your toes curl and your fists clench. His hand comes up to drag the pad of his middle finger down your throat as his tongue darts out and laps at your skin, and you moan.

Your hips grind and your thighs clench, a disastrous wave of heat flooding through you, and he sucks gently on your skin for a second before sighing.

"There it is..."

You pout when he pulls away, but he strokes your hairline and doesn't go far. "How are you feeling?"

"Really good," you breathe through a nervous smile.

"Are you turned on?"

Obviously, you want to exclaim, but given his thorough and affirmative nature, it makes sense. You also force yourself to remember that he's your therapist and not a guy you've taken home for the night. He's a professional, despite how unprofessional in nature this particular situation is on paper; He's not going to move the process along based on an assumption, no matter how obvious your reactions might be.

"Very," you tell him confidently, a proud gleam in your eye as you look up at him. The twitch of his grin does more than excite you— it urges you. "You turn me on, Doctor Reid..."

"Is that so?"

"Mhmmm."

He leans and his breath is hot in your ear. His voice comes in low and seductive. Curious. Careful.

"Then I'd like you to show me. Will you touch yourself for me, love?"

The pet name makes you clench around nothing, and you whimper at the way it stings. At this point it's physically painful to keep lying there at his mercy without any sort of stimulation, so despite how embarrassing and desperate it might be, your hand is slipping under the band of your sweatpants with ease as you sigh out. "I'll do anything..."

The back of his knuckles tease your neck as you slowly circle your clit with your middle finger, and you don't have to do much wandering to gather your wetness either. Everything is warm and wet and ready for release, which doesn't go unnoticed by Doctor Reid.

"I can hear how wet you are," he muses brightly, his throat caught in a groan as his lips hover over your neck. "That's good."

"Uh-huh?" you whine out, his praises bringing you closer to nirvana.

"That's really good... Are you close already, baby?"

You can't help but moan at the name, a white-hot pool of pleasure filling up in your gut as his lips attach to your pulse-point. "Yes, Doctor..."

"Mmm," he hums into your skin, continuing to kiss you. His hand strokes your forehead as your own makes quick work of your clit. It won't be but a matter of seconds before you're coming undone. "How long can you go between orgasms? Do you know?"

"I... usually wait... ten minutes at least..."

Doctor Reid licks softly at your neck before he asks, "Have you used a vibrator or a toy?"

You laugh involuntarily, clenching your legs as your orgasm approaches and wishing you had your vibrator right now. You bought it after your third session. "A vibrator. A cheap one... But it works."

"Nothing wrong with that," he mumbles amusedly into your skin, trailing his kisses up to your jaw. It takes everything you have not to turn your head and take his lips with your own, just to taste his warmth as you come undone—to whimper and whine into his mouth with every wave of pleasure that crashes through you, and—

God, that's exactly what's happening...

Your body shudders blissfully as Spencer kisses you, and the moment doesn't even feel real. His mouth is gentle but coaxing, helping you through your orgasm with a sense of accomplishment, like his kisses are a reward. At least, it certainly feels that way. It doesn't help that when you finally come down, slowing your breathing and removing your hand from your pants, he rests his forehead to yours with a final gentle peck on the mouth and an affirming, "Very good, sweetheart."

You can't help but feel like he takes note of the way you flutter your eyes closed at the nickname; there's a pause in his movements before he returns to them, lightly trailing his knuckles over your neck until his touch disappears completely.

Even though you just came moments before, his next sentence nearly gives you a second wind, your eyes snapping open and your cunt throbbing with want.

"Has anyone ever eaten you out before?"

"No," you tell him truthfully, and he studies you with a look in his eyes that tells you he isn't surprised to hear the unfortunate news. Embarrassed suddenly at his pity, you try to shrug it off. "Men seem to be pretty notorious for being bad at it though, so I didn't hold it against him... My ex, I mean..." You huff a nervous laugh, seeing Doctor Reid stare at you blankly. "I figured it would save us both the trouble."

"There's nothing troubling about it," he mumbles, more to himself. But then he straightens and inhales, back to business as his gaze cements into yours once again. "Would you be willing to let me do it?"

Even more embarrassing than the fact that it hasn't been done before is the speed at which you respond, "Yes." The word is sharp and desperate, loud and true, and you swear you see Spencer's eyes glow. "Please..."

It's hard to tell what he's thinking exactly—ever the professional he is—but aside from lack of a smile or any other indicator of eagerness, his eyes give his emotions away on a grander scale. They're practically fucking you already as he saunters around the bed, their intensity settling deep in the pit of your stomach. Suddenly you're convinced you could come just by his stare alone.

"May I?" he questions, gently tugging at the ankle of your leggings.

"Yes."

"Lift your hips for me, sweetheart."

After a sentence like that, you aren't sure how you have the strength to do it, but you manage, hot flashes coursing through your entire body as his nimble fingers grip the waistband of your leggings and slide them over your hips, then your thighs. His skin is hot against yours, even with as little contact as there is; a simple brush of the knuckle over your knee might as well be a branding iron, claiming you as his own.

He doesn't even have to instruct you, your legs falling wide open once they're free from their fabric confines.

At this point you aren't even embarrassed anymore. You might even be proud of it— how badly you want him to touch you and taste you and show you just how good another person could make you feel. In an odd way it makes you feel important. Cared for.

Your cunt throbs at the intensity of all these emotions and feelings.

It doesn't help when Doctor Reid settles between your legs, making himself comfortable and looking up at you through his eyelashes. The sight is just as overwhelming as everything else.

"You're absolutely sure you want this?" he inquires softly, almost like a plea.

Your vocal cords feel like they're made of rope, the words climbing out of you with burning calluses and a determination to see it through to the end. You've never wanted anything so badly, and you tell him precisely that.

The confirmation seems to please him, a beautiful lilted sigh escaping him as his nose comes in contact with your underwear. It rests just above your clit, his breath hot against you.

His hands come up from under you then, gripping your thighs to keep you steady as he presses an open-mouthed kiss to your clothed cunt. The gentle pressure makes you moan and squirm, his fingers gripping your thighs even tighter, and you sigh his name.

He keeps going, taking his sweet time to explore what areas get reactions from you, though he's quick to learn that every touch, every kiss, every gentle probe of the tongue... all of it is slowly undoing you to the point of madness.

With a hooked finger pulling your panties aside, Doctor Reid sighs into your thigh.

"Are you ready for it, pretty girl?"

All you can manage is the most whiny, whorish "Uh-huh," to the air. It echoes brightly and rings in your ears long after the moment, time seeming to stop right as his tongue comes in contact with your dripping heat.

The sensation is hot and sharp, and never ending. After what seems like forever, the tip of his tongue finally comes up and swiftly flicks your clit before he repeats the entire motion, like a wave crashing over the shore, and that's when your body finally releases all its tension.

You hadn't even realized you were so tense. Your fingers release their grip on the thin sheet beneath you and your chest sighs of relief, and that's when you feel yourself finally start to breathe. Head spinning, the sensations happening below you are coming into sharp clarity.

Spencer's tongue is relentless, leaving no crevice untouched by pleasureful curiosity. But you barely even have time to wonder if he might be enjoying himself more than you are, because all thought at all completely disappears the very moment his lips gather around your clit, sucking softly as he groans.

"Ohhhh my god..."

You're unable to keep your hips from grinding into his mouth. Still, he persists, cycling between sucking and licking and kissing, and it takes everything you have not to reach down and thread your fingers through his hair.

"You taste so fucking good," he sighs, coming up for air for a second. Then he kisses you again and repeats himself. "You're so good..."

This time you do reach down for his head, brushing the stray strands away from his forehead as he looks up at you. He pauses his ministrations, and his tongue's absence is sorely missed in feeling but a pleasure to the eyes as he runs it over his bottom lip in a slow, almost predatory nature.

"I'm going to slowly add a finger, is that okay?"

The thought admittedly panics you, flashbacks of pain and disappointment and embarrassment barging in and nearly ruining the moment. But Spencer can tell, his head tilting into your thigh again until it makes contact. His hair tickles and sends a shiver over your limb as he uses his hands to rub gentle, reassuring circles into your skin.

"We don't have to. I can keep doing it just like this if you prefer. Whatever you want, sweetheart."

The words shoot straight to your core, which sparks the realization that your previous encounter with sex was nothing like this at all. Not only in situation, obviously, but in feeling as well. You were excited to do it the first time, sure, but the build-up was pretty much non-existent. And now here you've been, pining away at this man for weeks, reawakening your libido and engaging in the longest game of foreplay known to man.

You have this very moment to show for it, your entire body humming with want and your worries slowly melting away under Doctor Reid's careful yet eager exploration.

Where there had once been an absence of communication and genuine care, now rests a bright and blossoming excess of it, in every touch and every pull of his eyes. It burns through you like a shot of whiskey, growing in sizzling warmth as it reaches every limb.

It's this new, odd and exciting comfort that urges you to tell him, "It's okay. You can do it."

You expect him to sigh in relief, grateful for your permission, but if he feels it he doesn't show it. Gentle hands continue caressing the underside of your thighs and he looks up at you. "You're sure?"

"Yes. I want it. I want your fingers inside of me, please."

Between the desperate emphasis in your nodding and the way your eyes are practically begging him, you've sealed your fate, a soft gasp reaching your throat when his middle finger slides through your opening and sends a rush of excitement over every plane of your body.

He doesn't enter you, but simply glides, up and down, like he's trying to soothe you.

"Tell me if it's too much, okay?"

"O-kay..."

Your breath shakes on the last syllable, his fingertip slowly disappearing inside you. He takes his sweet time, one knuckle, then two, and then he's fully inside you, and it's not nearly as painful as the last time somebody had been there.

"Fuck, you're so warm..." His eyes search yours for a moment before he sighs and lowers his head. "So beautiful..." And then his mouth is on you again, his compliment muffled by the essence of your pleasure, and your head is thrown back in an instant.

As his finger kindly allows you to adjust to its residence, experimentally moving in and out, his tongue continues to lap at your clit, and both sensations together are a bit odd but not unwelcome. You're slowly getting used to the fullness, yet something in you aches for more...

Maybe it's in your sighs, or the way your hands claw at the sheets, or perhaps he simply just knows you that well, but either way, Spencer knows.

He adds another finger, slowly and without an ounce of resistance from your body, and when you sigh out this time, it's of relief. You smile through it, allowing yourself to revel in the feeling of something new and erotic and exciting. Every whimper that falls from your lips is prideful and maybe even a bit exaggerated, but it's entirely worth it if only for the encouragement it seems to give Doctor Reid to keep going.

After a while of letting you get used to the feeling, he pulls back and twists his palm up before he enters you again, slowly as he says, "You're taking them so well... I'm proud of you, love..."

His fingers are in as far as they can go, and then they curve up just right, and you gasp.

"That feel good?"

"Uh-huh..."

"Yeah?" he coos proudly, starting a rhythm with his fingers that has you crying out in unbelievable pleasure. You're quickly reaching a peak again, every sensation from the fullness of his fingers and the way they twist and curl inside you to the sounds he makes as he kisses and sucks at your clit sending you into overdrive.

Dizziness starts to swarm you and your body can't handle it. Rather than fight this tight, new feeling brewing at each stroke of his fingers, you embrace it with deep breaths and cries out into the air, and then it snaps inside you.

Doctor Reid manages to keep your legs open as he works you through it, though you're not sure how you haven't crushed him yet. Everything feels tight and sharp and blindingly good—it feels like something that would take an army to keep from closing in.

Still, he does it, holding you open and groaning his way through your orgasm. Your hands instinctively reach out to keep him there, clutching at his hair and holding on for dear life while you tremble and clench around him.

Galaxies dance vividly behind your eyelids for what feels like eons as the pleasure bursts through you like a display of shooting stars, until eventually it subsides and your body feels extremely tired.

"Mmm, see? No trouble at all." He removes his fingers and continues to lazily make out with your cunt through small aftershocks of overstimulation, and then he's gone.

He gives you a few moments to collect yourself before he asks, "How do you feel?"

"Tired," you sigh with a smile, relaxing back with your eyes closed. You feel like you could take a nap. "But good. Very good."

His momentary silence intrigues you, so you flutter your eyes open and see that the heat in them hasn't subsided. In fact, it burns through him brightly as he prowls up the bed and climbs over your body until you're face-to-face. Something hard and hot and familiar rests firmly against your thigh and you choke on a whimper.

"Have you ever tasted yourself before?" he inquires, his voice barely above a whisper.

You swallow and prepare yourself. "No."

"Would you like to?"

And then without a second thought, your hands bring his face down to yours, and you embrace the subtle tang of your pleasure on his lips. He groans into your mouth, low and warm as his hips rut into your thigh.

The action sends you into overdrive, and suddenly you want to ask if you can return the favor, but Doctor Reid seems to have other ideas.

A finger delicately makes its way past your lips, seamlessly replacing his tongue, and you open your eyes again, nearly falling apart at the sight of him. The man is wild, eyes desperate for release as you suck on his finger, and then he adds another.

You clean him of your essence, sensual and enthusiastic in your maneuvers in a newfound confidence that wouldn't even exist now if not for him. So you treat this act as a reward to him, an act of gratitude, regardless of whether or not this session is technically all about discovering your likes and dislikes. If anything, you've learned that you like pleasing him. And so—if the constant friction between his bulge and your thigh is any indication—you'd have to say that his goal for today's session has been achieved tenfold.

"God, you're perfect," he huffs as his movements stutter and his hips still. You moan around his fingers, gliding your tongue in the space between them, and when he finally comes, he's choking out your name.

His weight gradually comes down on top of you, his fingers sliding out of your mouth and resting on your chest as he finds his composure. And then he's kissing your neck and your jaw, and each hot caress of his mouth at your pulse point feels like a reward of its own, an intimate form of affection made specifically for you.

Your name sighing past his lips and into your skin is proof enough of that; the lust is still there, sure, but it's laced with something else. Something softer.

As the breathing between the two of you slows, you comb through his hair with your fingers and sigh. An odd, pleasant feeling swirls around in your gut.

"Thank you, Doctor Reid."

"Mmm, you're very welcome," he murmurs into your skin, still nestled into the crook of your neck.

"For everything," you clarify. "A month ago, doing something like that would have felt impossible to even imagine, but... You make me feel safe, and cared for. And more importantly, you don't make me feel like I should be ashamed. Like there isn't actually something wrong with me. I don't know how to thank you enough for that."

When he pulls away, you almost think you might have scared him off, but the look in his eyes is anything but fearful. In fact, they practically shine like a glimmering lively lake as they search your own.

"There is absolutely nothing wrong with you. You're beautiful, and bright, and curious... And as long as you remember that, and you hold onto it, you will be just fine—no matter where you go, or... who you go to."

You shake your head, that feeling in your gut growing exponentially and the words flying out before you can stop them. "I don't want to go to anyone else. I only want you."

The look in his eyes deepens, almost a little melancholic in their intensity, close enough to that fear you were worried about earlier to make your heart beat faster.

"You don't mean that," he says, and you want to cry. Hell, you might, if that feeling in your stomach is speaking for something.

"Like hell I don't," you counter, cradling his head in your hands. "You're the first person I've actually wanted to be around in so long, and... Maybe it's twisted, maybe it's not right, but if there is anyone that I need, it's you. I won't even be your patient anymore if that makes up for it, I just want to see you. I trust you. More than I would trust any stranger."

When your name exits his lips, this time it's a gentle warning. Authoritative. But still sweet. Maybe even a little disappointed. "The purpose of these more... interactive sessions was to get you comfortable with trusting people with your body as much as you do... Seeing me and no one else would, in the end, defeat that purpose."

All feeling in your bloodstream curdles and starts to wither away with rejection. Embarrassment fizzles behind your eyelids as you close them, forming into tears that you try and will away until you're out of his sight. "You don't... actually want me..."

He tenses at your exclamation, and sighs. "That is absolutely not what I said. Look at me."

"Then... what?"

Spencer remains professional, but there's something hiding behind his eyes that longs to get out, you can see that. You can feel it too, as prominently as you feel your heart beating in your chest.

"As your therapist, it is in both of our best interests that I recommend you to try a night out. You don't have to sleep with anyone or do anything you're uncomfortable with, obviously, but... Based on what we've accomplished today, it is my professional opinion that you're ready for the next step."

So you're kicking me out, you cry dramatically in your head, even though you know it isn't true. Still, there's something inside you that doesn't want to let go— that can't. This connection you have with him is something strong and beautiful, something valuable. Something profound. You're not going down without a fight, until he is kicking you out of his office.

Your fingers glide down the side of his face and your eyes sharpen, studying his face with lustful reverence.

"And what are your thoughts as a man... and not my therapist?"

While you'd intended it more as a plea, your words seem to challenge him. Gone is the liberal professionalism, replaced with a familiar sly desire that ignites your heart and fills you with hope.

"As a man... it's impossible even trying to deny you..."

The words excite and warm you all over. You hum, nudging your nose to his and thinking aloud. "Mmm. After my hour is up and the day is long over... Maybe I should wander back to the parking lot and let a man take me home... As my therapist, d'you think that would count as a night out?"

You're relentlessly teasing him now, but he seems  alright with it, laughing dryly above you as his hands clutch your shirt and his hips shift firmly into your thigh again. "Haven't you gotten bold," he muses lowly, his mouth inching closer to yours.

"What can I say... You're very good at your job, Doctor."

"Mmm, you make it easy, love."

His lips are on yours soon after that, and with each tick of the clock your kisses grow hungrier.

Nothing escalates, but for the next fifteen-or-so minutes, your body remains buzzing with the ever-present energy of him, the knowledge that his presence has altered the course of your life forever, and the hope that the feeling is mutual.

Though, if the way he holds you and kisses you means anything, there is nothing to worry about in the slightest.

You leave his office that day feeling lighter, and while you're a far cry from where you were when you started seeing Doctor Reid, you're certain that by tomorrow you'll be a completely different woman.

[peachhcs]

we need more macklin fics and fluff bc that one was actually so cute. i need more asap 🩷

sorority formal

still debating if i should make a macklin au to add to my samy + will verse (HAHA my own fanfic verse??) but here’s some more fluff between the lovely rookie and his gf from santa clara university :) — also cleaning out my inbox so that’s why i’ve posted four times in a row LOL

also if this is bad i’m so sorry. i lowkey awkwardly switch between 2nd person and 3rd person pov sometimes so apologies for that. otherwise, i’m really starting to like writing about mack 😌 (slight allusion to sex but there’s no sex actually described just kissing)

masterlist

macklin had never been to a college sorority formal before, nor did he really understand what it was or what to expect, but he agreed to be your date nonetheless. plus, the look on your face was hard to say no to when you asked him two weeks ago.

the brunette was in his room trying to find the right suit to wear while will sat in the corner on his phone. he knew a little bit from when he was at boston, but he never found any interest in going to those frat and sorority parties, so the rookie was a bit in the dark when it came to this stuff.

will wasn’t much help either.

“i dunno man. i’ve never been to a sorority formal before. i assume it’s the same as any other formal? i’ve been to samy’s soccer banquet,” will shrugged, watching his friend try on his third suit.

“y/n said to just wear something neutral. her dress is pink i think,” macklin explained as he examined the dark navy suit in the mirror.

“i think that looks fine. navy and pink go well?” will nodded.

“i’m kind of nervous. is that bad? i don’t really know what to expect,” obviously, he didn’t want to make y/n look like a fool at her own sorority, so the boy’s nerves were at an all time high at the moment. what if he did something stupid?

“samy texted me back and she said it’s like prom but for college. there will be food and drinks and then you dance if you want. some sororities will do speeches or superlatives,” will read off the text his girlfriend just sent him.

“oh, okay. that’s not too bad then. i’ll be fine,” macklin assured himself and decided on the navy blue suit.

“yeah, it will be chill. you basically get to spend a whole night with your girlfriend,” will grinned and the brunette couldn’t help but smile at the thought. he hadn’t seen you in a few days because of your crazy busy schedules, so having this night to yourselves would be nice.

“yeah, you’re right. it will be chill and we’ll have fun,”macklin was basically saying positive affirmations to himself at this point which made will chuckle. he stood up to help his friend with his suit.

“don’t even sweat it, dude. she’s gonna love you,” the blonde assured and if will thought so, then macklin was gonna believe it.

once he was finished getting dressed, he grabbed his phone to let you know he was on his way over to your dorm. the boy rushed through the house, double checking his pockets that he had phone (check), keys (check), wallet (check), and a small bouquet he decided picking up for you because he knew you liked flowers.

“knock ‘em dead!” will called from the porch as macklin got into his car.

the brunette drove the short drive to the university. being new to driving in the states still and the nerves about tonight made his hands a bit shaky as he turned onto the drive that led to your dorm. he didn’t need to sweat this. it was you. y/n. his girlfriend. there was no reason for him to be nervous about some sorority formal.

he parked in the lot and climbed out, doing a third check that he had all of his belongings. you were waiting in the lobby for him after getting his text about being on his way. the hockey player stopped in his tracks though when he laid eyes on you.

your strapless, silky dress stopped around your ankles where he could see your pretty white heels. your hair was down like it usual was and macklin was pretty sure his pupils turned to hearts.

“hi,” you grinned when he got closer.

“hi..wow..you look..” the boy lost his words making you laugh.

“you look pretty..wow,” you complimented his navy suit.

“s-so do you. wow..i..i’m in awe,” he admitted earning a bright blush on your cheeks.

“you’re sweet. are these for me?” you noticed the bouquet wobbling in his hands. the brunette quickly flushed and handed them over to you.

“yes, sorry. they are.”

you admired the pretty pink and red petals, “thank you. these are pretty. wanna come up for a second so i can put them in water?” it wasn’t really a question because macklin was going to follow you regardless.

the two of you stepped into the elevator. mack’s nerves were now because of how beautiful you looked beside him and he didn’t know how to express it other than telling you and the building desire to kiss you. he followed you down to your dorm. your roommate grinned at him.

“hey mack,” maya waved.

“hey maya,” he waved back.

“look, he brought me flowers,” you showed maya the pretty bouquet.

“wow, brownie points for the hockey player,” she teased a bit which made him flush. he watched you find a vase and fill it with water from your bathroom. you came back out and placed the flowers into the vase.

“like them?” you asked for his opinion.

“i like them,” he nodded.

“i’ll put them by my desk for now. thank you, again,” you pecked his cheek.

“of course,” the boy was glad you liked them and he was glad he decided on getting them the other day because the smile on your face was so worth it after spending an hour at the store trying to pick them out.

“okay, we’re gonna head out now. we’ll be back later,” you called to maya who threw up a thumbs up.

“have fun! don’t get too drunk.”

you went back down the elevator and then out of the building where you latched your arm with mack’s. he rubbed your hand and leaned in to kiss your forehead.

“it’s not far from here,” you explained as you led the way.

“i’ve never been to one of these before,” the boy admitted a bit nervously.

“don’t worry, it’s so chill. you’ll get to meet some of my sorority sisters, we’ll eat, dance, drink some, and then we can leave whenever,” you explained and it eased some of mack’s nerves a bit more hearing you explain it. as much as he appreciated samy’s brief explanation, he also liked hearing it come from your lips too.

the two of you came up on one of the college bars in the area. it was already blasting music that could be heard from outside. macklin followed you inside where you were immediately greeted with security to check your ids. you both got little x’s on your hands meaning neither of you were 21. mack’s gaze flicked around the space that was dimly lit and pumping base through his bones.

“omg, y/n, hey!” a girl greeted you.

“hi jen, you look gorgeous!” you admired your friend’s dress.

“no you do! is this your boyfriend?” she turned her attention to mack.

“yes, this is macklin,” you gripped his arm again and the boy managed a tiny smile.

“nice to meet you. i’m jen, the sorority president. come on in. we have food in the back and drinks at the bar so get whatever,” jen explained.

you quickly led macklin to the back because you were starving. the boy watched you take a plate so he copied whatever you did. you laughed at his behavior.

“don’t be so nervous, mack.”

“sorry. just getting used to it all,” he said. he’d never been into a bar before because he wasn’t old enough first of all and if he was caught underage drinking he’d definitely get a mean punishment from his coach.

“it’s okay. it’s overwhelming, but i’m right here remember,” you assured and some of the worries eased hearing you say that. macklin offered a grateful smile as he followed your lead with the food and then followed you to a seat.

you sat with some other girls and their dates which got all of you quickly talking. the more you talked, the more comfortable macklin became and flushed when a few people recognized him as a hockey player. being next to you made him feel a lot more comfortable too. seeing you look so calm and content helped him do the same and by the time you were done eating, he was having a full conversation with some of the guys without you involved.

“let’s get pictures!” one girl exclaimed when she came around with her camera.

you pulled mack up. he eagerly wrapped his arm around your waist, the two of you smiling wide as the flash went off—almost blinding you guys because it was so bright and the room was so dark.

“aw, you guys look adorable,” the girl spun the camera around so you could see the preview. macklin quickly kissed your cheek.

“i love it, thanks,” you said.

you guys ventured back towards the center of the dance floor to start dancing along with the others. macklin was big on getting to dance, so he took full advantage, urging you to join his energy. you giggled at the way he bounced on his feet and pulled out his best dance moves for you.

when everyone started coming onto the floor, it got warm fast so the brunette lost his suit jacket leaving him in just his dress shirt that was almost halfway unbuttoned by now. his arms were around your waist, the two of you swaying to the beat and being in your own world together.

any anxiety the rookie felt earlier had completely disappeared being in the center of the dance floor with you. all that mattered to him was you in his arms as he spun you around.

“did i tell you how gorgeous you look?” the boy leaned in closer as he spoke over the music.

“you did, yes,” you grinned.

“well i’ll tell you again. you look gorgeous. prettiest girl here,” his words earned a bright blush on your cheeks.

“you’re too sweet, mack.”

“i’m serious, y/n/n. you’re beautiful,” he leaned in closer, still wanting that kiss he hadn’t gotten yet. you saw his request and closed the gap.

the two of you shared a sweet kiss, not caring that there were others around you or watching. your lips felt like heaven against the hockey player’s. he never wanted to let you go, but forced himself to to get some air back into his lungs.

“i could kiss you forever,” he mumbled.

“me too,” and you reconnected your lips for another quick kiss. mack’s hands wandered a bit lower towards your hips and then swiping over your ass. a giggle left your lips at his behavior.

“we should save this for the dorm,” you smiled while directing him away for now. a little pout appeared, but he understood and let you go.

the music picked up again and it had him spinning you around once more. because all of his focus was on hockey growing up, the brunette’s never had an experience of going to an end of the year dance or prom or anything, so he was glad he was getting to make this up with you right now.

as the night winded down, you and macklin decided to leave. he threw his suit jacket over your shoulders for the quick five minute walk back to your dorm. you appreciated his gesture, tugging it closer to your body to hide yourself from the semi-cold evening temperatures.

“thanks for coming tonight,” you smiled as you rode the elevator.

“of course. i had a lot of fun. thanks for bringing me,” mack returned your smile.

“i’m glad you did. better get ready for next semester,” you teased a bit and mack’s heart swelled just a little bit at the idea of coming back to your formal because that meant you wanted him enough to stick around for the next one.

he knew what you two had meant a lot to both of you, but sometimes he got in his head just a little bit wondering if he was good enough for you or not enough because he was some big shot hockey player and he knew what everyone thought about hockey players. he worried he wasn’t the one for you even though you were 100% the one for him. he knew it from the day he met you, so hearing you say that made him burst with joy.

maya wasn’t in the dorm, probably taking the hint that you guys wanted the room to yourselves. macklin was glad because he wanted to continue that kissing you guys were doing earlier.

he watched you hang up his suit jacket like you did every time he brought his suits with him and kick your shoes off. he followed suit and then didn’t waste another second bringing your lips to his again.

that urge he’s had all night only got stronger the more he kissed you. you reciprocated all of his actions and unspoken wants, pulling your hand through his pretty brunette locks and running your hand down his chest.

“i love you,” the boy mumbled between kisses.

“i love you,” you breathed.

he found your gaze for a second, wondering if this was right. wondering if you were sure about him. his thoughts were answered though when you grabbed ahold of his face to kiss him again and lead him to your bed.

needless to say, all of his anxieties were eased by the end of the night and the love he had for you had never been bigger.

[nineteenninety-six]

Just saw you write platonic while scrolling through the Pitt fanfic tag and requests are open so good for me

Could you write idk if this is what you do but like I haven’t seen any fic yet where it’s not like family related or romance

But maybe ugh this sounds depressive abbot or something when teenage girls brought in like found beaten or something and his eye contact thing and like not really a friendship but maybe and like he breaks her out of her shell , like she’s quiet not a word and maybe lashes out once and then boom cause he seems like such a girl dad but like isn’t and then yeah idk good luck if you want to , just like also after seeing their compassion, imagine just being a patient

── ⟢ ・⸝⸝ Saving Grace

Warnings: mentions/implications of abuse and child abuse. reader is a foster kid. asshole doctor (not abbot) general medical inaccuracies

AN: I don't like this but I've been working on it for a couple of days and I need to post it, so I hope you enjoy it :)

You were found as a crumpled bleeding heap in the park. The poor passerby who had found you was almost in tears thinking they had stumbled across a dead body only to choke in surprise when you responded to their touch.

You woke up in the ambulance and were wide awake when the EMTs brought you into the emergency department, eyes widened by fear as they darted around the hectic department, the loud noises, bright lights and chatter overwhelming and scaring you. Your hands were tightly clenched on the blanket draped over you.

It was all too much for you. Your heart was racing and your breathing became labored as you clenched your eyes shut, desperate to escape the situation.

Jack watched as you went past him, disappearing into a private room. He wasn't your doctor, but he knew the signs of a panic attack in the making and so he made his way into your room.

The room was still busy when he stepped in, nurses were trying to place an IV line but you were curled up in a ball on the bed, arms covering your face and head as you shook in fear. Your doctor was attempting and failing to get you to cooperate but when you didn't budge, your doctor became irritated. He wrapped a hand around your wrist but he didn't get an opportunity to pull at you before Jack spoke up, stopping him in his tracks.

“Get your hands off her and get out." Jack's words are sharp, his presence immediately commanding the room's attention.

The doctor stands, argument already halfway out of his mouth, "The kid is being a brat. Give me some time, I'll get it done."

A frown settled on Jack's face as he stepped closer to the doctor, looking down at the man, keeping eye contact as he spoke down to him," Get. Out. Of. Here. I don't want to see you in this room again."

The man twisted his lips, this time knowing better than to speak back. Abbot was his direct superior, meaning that if he had his way, the other doctor would not return to work another day in that department, or if Jack spoke to the right person, they wouldn’t work in the hospital at all.

"You can leave too" Jack tells the watching nurses and techs who quickly leave the room not wanting to relieve the same treatment the doctor did. Jack closes the door behind the last nurse, draws the curtain in front of it and turns off the lights, shrouding the room in darkness. The only sounds in the room were his

calmed breathing and your laboured breathing. Jack quickly looked over you, looking for any open cuts or gashes that would need immediate attention but he only found you to be covered in minor scrapes and bruises, you were also noticeably dehydrated and malnourished, but he knew he wasn't getting closer to properly examine you until you calm down and begin to trust him.

Knowing Shen and Ellis would only call for him for a major trauma, Jack relaxed in the chair in the corner of the room, resting his weary legs. He wasn't bothered by the silence of the room, he enjoyed silence especially when half of his day consisted of working in the busy emergency department and so the silence provided him a moment where he could clear his head and relax his muscles.

Your breathing slowly calms as you relax, noticing the quiet room you were in, a far cry from what it was earlier. You uncurl yourself from the ball you were in, eyes flickering all around the room until they land on Jack and you stare at him with wide eyes.

"I'm Doctor Abbot. I'm going to be your doctor whilst you're here," Jack stands, flicking the lights on before he moves to the end of the bed, stuffing his hands into his pockets, "Do you know where you are?"

Your eyes move away from him, unable to stand his unwavering gaze and slowly nod, clenching tightly onto the scratchy hospital blanket.

Jack swallows the sigh that wants to escape, he needs you to verbally answer but baby steps he guesses. He slowly moves to the side of the bed, making his movements slow and purposeful so as to not frighten you.

"I need to hook you up to an IV, it'll get some fluids and medication in you, make you feel a bit better." Jack tells you, "Can I do that?"

Jack watches as you continuously clench and unclench the blanket, a nervous habit you had picked up in the new unfamiliar environment. You don't answer but you don't flinch when he drags the equipment tray close to their side and so as he prepares the needle, he talks you through his actions. He describes what he's doing, explaining how it's going to happen and warns you of the pinch you'll feel when he does it and his words have the intended purpose as you offer your arm when he asks for it, no hesitation in your movements.

Jack then moves on to treating the cuts on your face and body, moving in silence before attempting to start getting information from you. Since you were a minor it meant that the police and CPS will be making a visit and considering how traumatized you already were, a visit from would probably send you over the edge.

"They said they found you in a park... " Jack quietly said to you as he wiped a cut clean, "Do you want to tell me how that happened?"

At the lack of response from you, Jack makes another attempt. "Do you remember how you got to the park or what happened beforehand?"

Silence once again.

Jack stopped what he was doing and looked up at you, keeping eye contact with you." Listen I'm trying to help you here kid but you've got to help! me a bit too. Was it an older boyfriend? Your parents?"

There is another moment of silence as you twist your lips before you finally speak, "My foster parents."

"... They hurt you? Is that how you ended up in the park?" Jack felt a surge of anger flow through him when you told him about your foster parents.

You silently nodded, lips trembling as you began to cry, "I had to run away."

"Yeah I get that kid" Jack sighed as he grabbed a tissue for you.

"When am I getting discharged?" You ask straightening up, wiping the tears off your face roughly.

"You can't leave yet, I'm afraid. The cops and CPS will need to speak to you first."

You pulled away with such veracity that Jack jumped back in surprise. You looked at him with wide eyes and betrayal whiten across your face plainly.

"You called the cops?!" You shout, "Why would you do that, they're just going to take me back to that place."

You begin to fiddle with your dressing and Jack realised that you were trying to remove it. He jumped up with a surprised shout, rushing over to you, swatting your insistent hands away and covering the dressing with one large hand, easily encompassing it.

"Are you crazy kid? You can injure yourself even more if you do that."

"Are you crazy?" You turned the question back to him, "You called the cops!"

"I didn't call anyone! You were found in a park, remember, they would have been notified already!" Jack defends himself.

You stop at your unsuccessful attempt at pulling his hand away and peer up at him, red rimmed eyes shining wetly, "I can't go back there, you have to help me."

"I can only help you if you tell me everything"

"I can't go back there or go back to another group home!”

Jack sighed as he considered his options, "I’m a doctor which means I’m a mandated reporter so I’ll have to report this regardless but you telling me, helps me help you, okay?"

Jack raised his brows at you, voice gentle yet pleading as he tried to get you to understand him.

“…Okay”

Before you leave with your social worker, you seek out Dr Abbot and with a little help from a nurse, you end up taking the elevator up to the top floor before climbing the stairs to the roof.

You push open the door with a grunt, struggling with the weight of the door before you step out, eyes travelling over the roof in search of the doctor. You found him near the edge, past the safety rail with his hands in his pocket.

"Dr Abbot?" You call out as you walk over to him.

The man's head whips over to her at her shout before he hurriedly steps back from the edge, ducking under the safety rail to meet her halfway.

"Hey kid, you shouldn't be up here."

"I was looking for you, a nurse told me you'll be up here," You shrug, pushing your own hands into your pockets, "I uh- wanted to thank you."

"S'alright," Dr Abbot gives you a soft smile, "It's my job."

"You could have let the first doctor continue to deal with me but you didn't. You helped me a lot today…you saved me."

"Don't count yourself out kid, you saved yourself as well." He reminded you.

Your phone buzzes with a text from your social worker telling you it's time to go, "I've got to go."

"See you later kid," Jack's lips quirk as he reconsiders his words, "Well maybe not at the hospital."

You hesitate for a moment before you step forward and hug him. It's a brief hug, so quick that Jack doesn't even have a chance to even twitch before you pull away and take a few steps back towards the door.

"Thank you again Dr Abbot!" You smile and wave before you disappear behind the heavy roof door.

"Bye kid" Jack responds to the closed door.

[kxsagi]

Hello! May I perhaps request one for Reo Mikage? I'm so disappointed there are not many fanfics about him. Anyways, maybe a story where him and the reader have been dating for a while. But when Reo introduced her to his parents they didn't approve of her. Make it a happy ending pls I've been writing so much Reo angst in my notes app I need him to be happy for once 💔

“𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐥𝐨𝐮𝐝𝐞𝐫”

a/n: nooo not the reo angst 😭 he deserves a happy ending and i am gonna write one 😼

(i don't know art credits so sorry)

you knew the moment you stepped into the mikage estate that this wasn’t going to go well. 

reo’s hand was warm in yours, his grip a little tighter than usual, like he already knew too. the place was massive with high ceilings, marble floors, and a silence that felt too heavy for a home. you could practically hear your heartbeat echoing off the walls. 

“you okay?” reo whispered, leaning down slightly to catch your eyes. he always did that, checked on you like it was second nature. 

you gave him a soft smile, nodding. “yeah. i’m ready.” 

but you weren’t. 

his parents were polite at first. distant smiles, tight handshakes. his mother looked you up and down like she was analyzing a stock portfolio. his father barely said two words, and when he did, it was only to reo. 

the dinner felt like walking on eggshells. 

you laughed at the wrong time. spilled a little water. tried to talk about your job but got cut off with a dismissive comment. when his mom said, “she’s… sweet, reo. but is this really what you’re looking for in a partner long-term?” you felt your heart drop right into your stomach. 

reo squeezed your thigh under the table, but he didn’t speak. not right away. 

you left that night in silence. you tried to smile like it didn’t bother you. you tried to act like it didn’t feel like someone had just labeled you not enough. 

reo didn’t let go of your hand the entire car ride back. 

“i’m sorry,” you said quietly, staring out the window. 

he pulled over. 

“don’t,” he said, turning to you. his voice was soft but serious. “don’t ever apologize for being yourself. they were wrong. you were amazing.” 

you shook your head. “they hated me.” 

“i don’t care.” 

“but they’re your parents, reo –” 

“and you’re the person i want to spend the rest of my life with.” 

your breath caught in your throat. 

reo cupped your face, thumbs brushing over your cheeks like you were something delicate. something precious. 

“i love you,” he said. “and i don’t need their approval to know what my heart wants. if they can’t see how lucky i am to have you, that’s their loss. not mine.” 

you blinked back the tears that were threatening to fall. “you’re really gonna pick me over them?” 

he smiled, leaning forward to press his forehead to yours. 

“i already did.” 

weeks passed since then. things were awkward. reo didn’t visit home much. you told him he didn’t have to choose, that you didn’t want to be the reason he drifted from his family, but he kept saying the same thing: 

“you’re not the reason. they are.” 

and then, one quiet saturday, there was a knock at your shared apartment door. 

reo opened it. it was his mom. 

you froze in the hallway, unsure if you should hide or come out. 

reo looked back at you and smiled gently. “it’s okay. come here.” 

you stepped into view, heart pounding, but his mom looked different this time. her expression was softer. nervous, even. 

“i wanted to apologize,” she said, looking between the two of you. “i was wrong. i judged you before i even tried to know you. that was… unfair. and rude.” 

you didn’t know what to say. you just stared, mouth slightly open. 

“reo didn’t talk to us for weeks,” she continued. “and i realized… if someone like him could love someone this much, maybe i was the one who needed to reevaluate.” 

reo reached for your hand again. like always. 

“i’d like to get to know you,” she said, gently. “if you’ll let me.” 

you blinked, a little dazed. then nodded. “okay. yeah. i’d like that.” 

reo looked so proud. like the sun had finally come out again. 

later that night, when it was just the two of you tangled up on the couch, you turned to him and whispered, “you really would’ve given it all up for me, huh?” 

he laughed softly, brushing his lips against your forehead. “of course i would’ve. but now i don’t have to.” 

you smiled into his chest, heart full. 

maybe love didn’t always come easy. maybe it had to fight through cold stares and awkward dinners and too-quiet car rides. 

but with reo? 

you knew you’d always win in the end. 

© 𝐤𝐱𝐬𝐚𝐠𝐢

[l-starsz]

Hey, lovely! I have a fanfic request, if you don't mind; A fic where Billie and reader are still a fresh couple, and the reader sleeps over at Billie's house. She unexpectedly gets her period but doesn't realize it until it's too late, waking up to a “blood pool” accident on Billie's bed the next morning. The reader gets embarrassed and freaks out, scared of Billie's reaction, but Billie comforts and takes care of her💙

a/n: IM SO SORRY THIS TOOK ME LIKE A MONTH TO GET TO☹️ i was gonna post this last night but i finished writing it when i was half asleep and i knew some of it would be nonsense so i waited until today so i could make sure it was good to post🥲

i’d only slept at billies house a few times. we hadn’t been together for long, and although we’d been friends before we got together, we still hadn’t really had sleepovers. throughout the few months we’d been together, it had become one of my favourite things. being able to fall asleep beside the girl i love, or even better, in each others arms.

sleeping next to her always made me sleep quicker, so that night i was asleep within minutes. i was asleep before i felt the pains in my stomach, indicating that i was about to get my period.

i opened my eyes, squinting at the sunlight coming through the curtains. i laid in the same spot for a second, letting my eyes close again before shifting, draping my arm over billies stomach. when i moved, i felt it. i knew exactly what had happened. i slowly sat up, moving and seeing the stain on her sheets as i scrambled to my feet.

my eyes were wide. i’d ruined her sheets. tears immediately filled my eyes, threatening to fall when i noticed billie shift slightly. i didn’t know what to do. i stood in the same spot for a second, trying to come up with something to tell her, but nothing made me feel any less guilty. i knew i had to wake her up, as much as i didn’t want to.

i whispered her name and carefully shook her arm, hearing her groan.

“get back in bed, babyyyy, hold me?” she mumbled, her voice still clearly tired, whilst she kept her eyes closed.

“billieeee.” i sniffled, tears clouding my vision and my hands shaking.

her eyes shot open when she heard my shaky voice, and she immediately noticed the stain on her sheets. i covered my face with my hands, sobbing into them, whilst billie didn’t say a word. she was definitely mad.

i heard her move around, the sheets rustling as she did, and she was soon out of bed with her hands placed on my shoulders. her thumbs ran soothingly across them.

the tears still ran down my cheeks as i let out a sob. billies arms immediately wrapped around me, holding me against her. her hand found my hair, playing with it, but being careful not to pull the knots caused from me sleeping.

“i’m sorry. i’m so sorry. please don’t be mad baby, i didn’t mean to.”

“oh baby..” i heard her whisper, “were you scared to tell me?”

i nodded against her, holding onto her baggy shirt to keep her close. i was still crying against her as her hands ran up and down my back. her hold was tight, but not too tight. perfect.

“you never need to be scared to tell me anything like this, i promise, my love. i’ll never be mad at you for something like this. i just want to make sure you’re feeling okay.” her voice softened and she placed kisses over the top of my head, moving her hands back down to rest on my lower back.

“i’m sorry for not telling you..” i mumbled.

“don’t be sorry, love. let’s get you cleaned up, okay? my sheets don’t matter, i can wash them, i just want to make you feel better.”

“are you sure?” i swallowed thickly, my head still resting against her.

“of course i’m sure. it’s no big deal baby. now let me take care of you, yeah?”

i hesitantly nodded and let her guide me to the bathroom, where she turned on the shower and helped me get undressed. once i was settled under the hot water, billie went downstairs to put my clothes and her sheets in the wash. she also put new sheets on the bed, before coming back to the bathroom as i wrapped a towel around me.

she got me everything i needed, and we spent some time doing skincare, and our hair too. as we settled into bed together, i still felt guilty, but much better with her taking care of me.

i had a hot water bottle against my stomach to help with my cramps, dressed in billies clothes which brought me even more comfort, and wrapped in her arms. her fluffy blankets were draped over the both of us, but i cuddled closer to them since they smelt like her. she was constantly checking up on me, and honestly i’d never felt so loved.

she’d ended up getting me water, and a snack aswell, she’s done everything she could to make me feel better, and i was so grateful. for what she’d done, and for her.

after a while of cuddling, and watching our favourite show, i was slowly getting tired. and it wasn’t long before my eyes slowly shut, mumbling an ‘i love you’ and ‘thank you so much’ to billie, before allowing myself to be lulled into a deep sleep once again, feeling comforted, and definitely much better than before.

[urno1luv]

Loved the fanfic of Sub!Giselle! 💜

Can you make a part two author nim, but make it longer?? Pleasee??

But no pressure! Take your time and have a break author nim!! Love youu 💜🫶

i didn't expect so many ppl to see my work omg...🫣but ofc!! i think this might be the only sub idol thing i write bc it took so long to get out of that mindset myself😭😭hope u like this ♡

part 1 for anyone who missed it, but it's also a standalone so it doesn't matter which order u read it in <3

tags: this is actually a very cute fic if you ignore the sex, sub gigi, bratty gigi, sexually frustrated gigi, sex(🤩), pussy eating (both recieving), face sitting, gigi has pierced nipples, mommy kink, ass slapping (gigi recieving)

💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋💋

Living with your girlfriend was a test of patience you were constantly failing. It wasn’t just that she was bratty—it was the artistry behind her annoyance. She made being difficult seem like a sport, and you were her unlucky opponent. Gigi loved you very much, but sometimes you couldn't help but think she did this to rile you up on purpose. The reason for this? You would find out soon enough <33

"Can you not breathe so loud?" she asked one morning, flipping through her phone at the breakfast table.

You paused mid-chew, glaring at her. "I’m eating cereal."

"And I’m eating in peace—or I was," she snapped, taking a delicate sip of her iced Americano, which she’d made you buy because "I just can't function without caffeine."

She left dishes in the sink like a declaration of war. “I’m giving you a chance to prove your cleaning skills,” she said with a smirk when you confronted her, her lacy bra strap slipping down her pale shoulder. It was almost like she did that just for your attention...

“Giselle, you’re literally standing next to the dishwasher.”

“Yeah, but my nails are wet,” she whined, holding up perfectly dry, manicured fingers. “You’re welcome for the visual.”

And don’t get started on her shopping habits. Packages arrived daily, piling up at the door like a shrine to her online shopping addiction. One time, she ordered a $200 sweater and wore it ONCE.

“Why didn’t you return it if you didn’t like it?” you asked, baffled.

“Because the hassle is too much. I dont have time for that. Im a busy woman,” she purred, draped across the couch, in an inviting manner.

If you so much as hinted at getting frustrated, she doubled down. “Aww, is living with me too much for you?” she teased one night, stealing the last slice of pizza you’d specifically saved for yourself. “Poor thing.”

But the worst was how she always needed the last word. Arguments with her were unwinnable, because no matter what, she’d throw out a smug, “You’re just mad that I’m fucking right,” and leave the room, huffing.

Some days you wondered why you hadn’t packed your bags yet. But then she’d do something annoyingly cute, like poke her head into your room at 3 a.m., blanket wrapped around her shoulders.

“I can’t sleep. Wanna watch something?”

You sighed, and begrudgingly made space for your girlfriend. God, she knew how to make you stop being mad at her so easily, and all she had to do was flash a smile in your direction.

She removed her blanket to reveal a silky lingerie set, in a colour matching her beautiful hair. She crawled over to sit on your lap, her sultry gaze meeting your surprised one. "Put a show on already," she whined, "accidentally" grinding on you.

You realised just then, as you grabbed the remote that Giselle was frustrated because you didn't fuck her for 2 days (a new record for your little slut). Oh, you didn't realise how much fun u were gonna have with her <33

An hour passed, and you forgot just how annoying your girlfriend was. Only 15 minutes were spent watching the movie, the other 45 spent arguing with Aeri over the smallest stuff. How you sat, how your room looked, how bad the movie you chose was, and you've just about had it with her.

Your hand snaked up her back, as she yapped, and tightened, before flipping her over so that she was face down into the mattress. A small yelp was heard, but you didn't care. This brat was gonna pay.

Youre both in the middle of the bed, and you dragged Aeri by her hair so that she rested her head on the pillow instead. She moaned at the sharp pain in her scalp, the sound so lewd and pornographic. "Baby, if you wanted to get fucked so bad, just fucking ask, okay? Don't piss me off, I'm not a patient person," you snarled at her.

Her pussy clenched at your tone of voice, back arching into you. Within minutes, you had her ass up and her hands tied behind her back, with one of your hands roughly gripping her hip, holding her down, the other pushing her head down into the pillow as you thrust the dark strap inside of her dripping cunt. You slapped her ass a few times, the flesh jiggling, her guttural moans escaping her mouth. The muffled cries and moans sounded like music to your ears, bringing you both closer to your edge, but you weren't gonna let Giselle off. No, not yet.

You removed the strap and threw it aside, and she groaned loudly at the action. "What the fuck are you- a-ah.." You slapped her before she could even complain, and told her that if she doesn't make you cum in the next 5 minutes, she's not gonna cum at all tonight. The threat of Aeri's pleasure being taken away had her scrambling, her lips connecting to you clit, and the moans you were letting out had her encouraged.

"F- fuck... that's a good g-girl..." You gasped, pushing Gigi's head into your pussy. Hearing your praises got her dripping again, and she sighed into your cunt, the action bringing you closer and closer to your climax.

Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, and you screamed out loud, thighs closing like an oyster around your beloved pearl, Aeri, who whined as she tasted your sweet essence, pleased to have made her girl happy. "My turn, please, mommy? I've been s'good to you..." You obliged, already losing your anger.

"Come here, Gigi," you softly murmured, and she obeyed, eagerly pushing you down, her pussy hovering above your face. You wrapped your hands around her plush thighs, pulling her so that her full body weight rested on your face. She immediately started grinding, and you plunged your tongue into her, swirling inside of her warm, pussy.

While sucking on her clit, your reached up to twist her pierced nipples, and Giselle threw back her head, squealing, reaching her high withing seconds, squirting all over your face. "M-mommy.... h-hah..." Aeri's body twitched, and she slumped beside you, completely fucked out.

Shakily, you got up and started to run water in the bath, before coming back to nuzzle into her neck. Giselle reciprocated, her arms wrapping around you, holding you closer.

Although she could be too much, you wouldn't trade her for the world.

[gallavichsreddie1128]

Different Universes (Hannibal)

Description: Y/N ends up in the Hannibal universe and Hannibal falls for her

Warning: Smut, Cheating (sorta)

Word Count: 2,526

Request: could you write a fanfic where the reader is a big fan of the Hannibal series, just goes about her day normaly,falls asleep and then wakes up in the Hannibal universe. She tries to figure out where she is (without knowing that she is in an alt. universe) and witnesses an actual murder, but manages to escaped unscathed with her knowledge of the Hannibal universe. After that she is contacted by the FBI, who want to interrogate her and this is how she ultimatly meets Dr.Lecter, who will be her therapist.(with her realising who he is).He quickly gets intrigued with her and wants to get to kniw her. Would it be possible to end it with some smut? Sorry, if this a really odd request.

Author’s note: I changed some things up but I really like these sort of requests. Also I work all day tomorrow so I will post two fics today.

Being married to a celebrity had it’s pros and cons. Cons being that fans were everywhere and so was paparazzi. You could never get a break. But the fans are what made Y/N’s husband who he is today and his talent of course. Pros being that the one person everyone thirst for on the internet you have. They love you and that it makes you feel like the luckiest person in the world. And of course when you see them on TV it’s like watching your husband. Oh wait, it is. Y/N and Mads have been together for 5 years, married for 1. They were 20 years apart but that didn’t mean anything to them. Y/N is a fan of Hannibal and watches it all the time, like right now.

She always wondered what it would be like to be in the show. It was something that crossed her mind often. She even read fanfic about her husband’s character. She would give anything to be in that universe even for a day. So When she wakes up outside Hannibal’s house, she isn’t too upset. At first she didn’t realize where she was, but it looked familiar. It took a minute but she gasped so hard she started choking once she realized it. She was outside Hannibal Lecter’s house. She looked around in awe, she couldn’t believe that she was here.

She walked around his house for a little bit, exploring the place. “Can I help you?” She heard it was her husband’s accent. She turned towards the voice and gasped. It was Mads except it wasn’t, it was Hannibal. “You look lost.” He stated as she looked at him in awe. She couldn’t say anything, too shocked. “Can you talk?” He asked after a while of silence. “Yeah I uh yes.” She said, making the man chuckle. “Are you okay?” He asked. “I don’t know.” She answered, she really didn’t. “Come inside. I’ll make you something to eat.” She got excited at first but realized that Hannibal was a cannibal.

“Uh I’ll just take some tea.” She said as they walked in his house. His house looked like it did on the show. He poured the tea and she watched him. “Can you tell me why you were outside my house?” He asked as he handed her the tea. “I actually don’t know. One minute I’m on the couch in my house watching TV, the next I’m here.” He hummed at her words. “So you sleep walk?” He asked. She shook her head, “No.” He looked at her as she drank from the cup. She was beautiful and he felt like he knew her. “I feel like you do and don’t realize it. Have you ever woken up in a weird place before?” He asked, she shook her head. “No. This is a first.” She said.

He got up and walked upstairs leaving her there in her thoughts. Moments later he returned with a notebook. “I thought I recognized you. You’re my new patient. Y/N.” She looked at him confused. “Patient?” She asked. “Jack Crawford assigned you to me after you witnessed a murder.” She had no memory of this. “Um okay.” She said still confused but realized that she had woken up in this universe and this wasn’t a dream. She was a part of this show. Though she had no memory prior to waking up outside his house. “Right. Sorry I just forgot.” She lied. He nodded and opened the notebook. “I guess we can start our session now. Wasn’t expecting you until tomorrow.” He said. She looked at him as he wrote some things down. “Okay Ms. Y/N tell me what you remember about the murder.” She was fucked.

After the session was over she realized that she probably couldn’t stay here even though she hadn’t had a place to go. “I will see you next week.” He told her as she walked out of his house. She didn’t know what she was going to do. She had no memory of anything that he said. So she certainly doesn’t remember where her home would be. As she left his house she thought of what she could do. Thought of going back and falling asleep by his house but what would she do for a week? She huffed as she walked back to his house and rang the door bell. He answered and she sighed, “Can I stay the night?” 

It was beyond her why he agreed without explanation. She sat in the bed that he gave her and just thought. Thought about how crazy this was and how apart of her wants to go back to her universe. As she sat on the bed thinking she heard a knock. “Come in.” She said and Hannibal walked into the room. He saw how distraught she looked and he sat by her. “You okay?” He asked, concerned in his eyes. She looked at him, god he looked so much like her husband. She knew that he basically was but he wasn’t. “I don’t know.” She whispered. “Is this about not having any memory at first?” She wanted to tell him. She wanted to tell him the truth, that she wasn’t from this universe and that she’s married to his actor but he would probably think she’s nuts. But she couldn’t live in this world alone.

“I’m gonna say something and it’s going to sound crazy but I need you to bare with me.” He nods. She lets out a sigh and looks away from him. “I’m not from here.” She says. He looks at her confused, “What do you mean?” “Like this universe. I’m from a different one and in that universe this is a tv show called Hannibal. If i’m not mistaken given what you’re wearing this is season two and Will Graham is in prison for crimes he did not commit. You committed them but don’t worry I won’t tell. And your actor is my husband Mads Mikkelsen.” His jaw dropped and he looked at her in shock. He wasn’t quite sure he believed her. But how did she know that he was the killer? “Mads Mikkelsen?” He asked. She raised an eyebrow at him.

That’s really what he got out of all of that. “Yes that’s my husband, that’s you just in a different universe.” He didn’t know what to say, she sounded crazy. “I know I sound crazy.” “Well I wouldn’t say that.” He tried, she rolled her eyes. “But i’m telling the truth. That’s why I don’t remember anything from here like the murder or the FBI.” “But you told me the story.” “I lied.” He nodded. “I’m sorry Hannibal. I know this is a lot to hear.” “I’m a TV Show character and my actor is married to you and you are well aware that i’m the killer.” He summed up what he could.

She looked at her hands, “You have to believe me.” He looked at her. She had to be crazy, none of it made sense. Though he could read people very well and she didn’t seem like she was lying. “Do I ever get caught?” He asked. She looked at him, “Yes but you escape.” He nodded. “With Will. I mean you two are basically in love.” He gave her a weird look. “I’m not in love with Will.” She looked at him with a “really?” look. “I’m not.” He said. She shook her head, “yeah whatever you say.” “Does he love me?” She chuckled at the question but nodded. “One might say he does but you guys don’t get together. You almost kiss but that’s it. You might be together after the show ends. There isn’t a fourth season.” She tells him. “This is unique.” He told her and she laughed. “I know but it’s all true.” “So since the man you call Mads? Plays me do you find me attractive?” He asked. She looked at him, red in the face.

“I mean yeah. Of course I do.” She said. “So then if I kissed you, you’d be okay with it?” Her jaw was on the floor. “I uh I mean yeah. Yes, I would like that.” She said. He leaned in and kissed her. She was shocked that it came down to this moment but she wasn’t complaining. She kissed him back and cupped his face. Their lips moved in sync as thoughts were racing through both of their minds. This was all crazy. She got up and straddled him, pulling him closer. His hands were placed on her hips as she deepened the kiss. Her hands ran through his hair. “Have you always wanted to do this?” He asked against her lips. She nodded out of breath. “Yes.” He smirked and ran his fingers over her lips. “Have you thought about having sex with me?” She nodded and pushed him down so he was laying on the bed. His hands went under her shirt and she pulled it off her body revealing a red lace bra that she had on. His hands immediately went to her boobs. “You’re so beautiful.” He tells her and removes the bra.

She lets it fall off her before she throws it with her shirt. Her hands travel down his white shirt that he was in. He looked so good in PJ’s. “Take this off.” She tells him. He leans up and takes the shirt off, throwing it with her things. He didn’t have abs per say but he was still the hottest man she’s ever seen. She gets off him to remove her panties and he removes his PJ pants and boxers. She straddles him again and looks down at him. He looked up at her like she was his whole world, in her universe she was. His hands pulled her hips closer to where she was almost lined up with him. She looked down and saw his hard dick. Same size and thickness as her husband. He watched her as she lined herself up and slowly sat on his dick. He felt her walls taking him in like they were made for each other. She let out little moans until he was all the way in her.

His hands held her hips again and she began riding him. She went slow at first building up the pleasure. They didn’t break eye contact as her jaw dropped. It felt so good. He could feel her walls clenching him and it made him groan. How was he supposed to be in love with Will when she was here? Her hips started moving faster and faster making the pleasure more intense. Both of them making noise now, enjoying the moment. She leaned down and kissed him, silencing her moans. Their lips moved together in a sloppy kiss. It wasn’t a neat kiss, it was tongue and teeth and everything was put into it. Hannibal’s hands gripped her back as he felt himself getting closer. She gasped into his mouth as she felt her high near. Her eyes rolled back as her hips went faster.

He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her face, it was like a pretty painting that he longed to see. She was so close she could taste it. “Are you going to cum, pretty girl?” He asked her. That’s all it took. She was cumming all over him with whines of his name. Seeing her cum, made him cum even harder. With a groan of her name he released inside of her. Her hips slowly move to ride out their orgasms. Her moans die down and her hips stop. She looks down at the man still shock that he’s Hannibal fucking Lecter. He stares back at her with a look in his eyes she knows all too well. It’s the same look her husband gives her. Is this man in love with her? 

She had to get back to her universe. This was so nice but she didn’t belong here. She belonged with Mads not Hannibal but since Mads plays Hannibal she does love him. But the time she has spent with him has been amazing and she didn’t wanna leave but she also wanted to get back to her life. Hannibal was a killer after all. She knows how this story ends and she truly thinks Will and him are meant to be.

As much as she loves him she doesn’t wanna change that. But these past few weeks have been amazing. She laid her on Hannibal’s chest as they just talked. “Is your universe different from this one?” He asked. It kinda was in a sense that the issues going on in this universe were the only focus and in her universe they aren’t just main focuses like that. Everyone has got their own problems. “It feels the same but from watching it on TV no.” Will’s powers that he has as well. “And Will’s visions.” “Now I definitely believe you.” He joked and they both laughed. This was nice. Not having any actual problems besides to get back to her universe. “When does Will get out of prison?” He asked. She shouldn’t tell him. “Soon.” Was all she said. 

She sat at the table as she watched him make dinner. It was like a routine. She loved doing it but as she watched them cook, she realized that this was the stuff that her and Mads did. They had a life together and this reflected that. “I’ve really enjoyed our time together, Hannibal.” She said with a smile as she drank from her wine glass. He smiled and gave her a plate. “I have to.” Her smile dropped slightly as she looked up at him. “I uh wish I could stay.” She said. “You can.” He told her. “I can’t though. I have a husband and life to get back to.” She told him. “I’m your husband though. I mean technically.” She looks at him and sighs, “You are but you aren’t. My husband isn’t a cannibal. He just plays one on TV.” “So I’m just a TV character to you.” That knocked the wind right out of her.

That was something she never thought she’d ever hear. She loved fictional characters so much and they were so much more than that but hearing that question made her sick. “No Hanni you’re not you’re so much more than that but you gotta look at it from my perspective this wasn’t supposed to happen. I don’t even know how it happened.” She told him. “To you it wasn’t. But this to me was a blessing.” He took her hands. She looked up at him from her seat. “Stay with me, Y/N. I can give you all he can.” But he couldn’t and they both have different endings that don’t include each other. “Hannibal you’re amazing but we aren’t meant to be together.” She said. “Then how come you’re here?” She didn’t have an answer for that. She truly didn’t know. Luck? She didn’t have an answer to his question but all she knew was that she had to get back to her universe

[rrxnjun]

where do broken hearts go? [lmk]

you know what they say about past lovers that can remain just as friends - either they're still in love with each other, or they never were in the first place.

pairing: mark lee x fem! reader

genre: exes to lovers. angst, fluff.

wc: 12k (11.926)

warnings: mention of sex, weed and alcohol, heartbreak, swearing, park jihoon of treasure is one sassy bitch and also accidentally somehow the main character of this fanfic plz dont @ me, inconsistent writing style bc i took 3 months and 3 depressive episodes to finish this fic

playlist: where do broken hearts go - one direction / too good to say goodbye - bruno mars / everytime - ariana grande / closer - waterparks / tornado warnings - sabrina carpenter / survive the night - the boyz

a/n: hey do some of you still remember me..... AHAHA tell a friend to tell a friend rrxnjun is BACK! this fic isn't the ideal vision i had in my mind but we are working on not being so hard on ourselves with our writing so! here we are. i still kind of like it :,)

When you walk up to your best friend’s apartment one day with a tub of ice cream under your arm and the biggest pout on your face, Park Jihoon makes a complete list of things you should do to get over your failed relationship with Mark Lee. And while you think your dear friend has some psychopathic tendencies sometimes, you’d say the list is actually pretty reasonable of him. 

There’s something about the five simple steps that makes you wonder if it’s really as easy as Jihoon makes it sound. And while you doubt it– because the pinging pain in your heart makes it seem like the heartbreak is truly going to kill you in a few minutes if you don’t do something about it– you give it a try, because come on… you’d do anything to not feel like this ever again.

Step one – cry it out.

“He was a cunt anyway,” Jihoon mutters as he steps into the living room with two spoons in his hands, throwing one of them to you– while almost managing to hit you in the middle of your forehead in the process, adding a concussion to the mix of problems you have going on right now– and you find yourself furrowing your brows at his hateful comment.

“Why’d you say that?”

“Well, as your best friend, I’m supposed to be on your side, no?” he says as he takes a seat on the sofa next to you, watching as you wrap one of the thick blankets you got for the male around your figure– you bought it mainly for yourself, because his apartment is cold as a freezer and you knew he wouldn’t buy one for you to use in the first place– and shrugs. “Besides, he broke your heart, and any male who does that is a cunt in my eyes.”

“I broke up with him,” you mourn, “so I broke my own heart,” you snicker, despair fully filling you up from the inside– fitting everywhere into your lungs and choking you up from how bad you truly feel. Now, this isn’t your first breakup– you’ve had your fair share of boyfriends in high school (in your baddie era, as Jihoon called it), but Choi Yeonjun from Maths class and Jung Woonyoung, the guy you dated for a total of 2 months over the summer break before he moved away, weren’t exactly boys you found yourself falling in love with. Sure, you liked them, you kissed them and went on dates with them– hell, you even hooked up with Yeonjun once before you realized the relationship truly wasn’t for you– but no one managed to cave into your heart just as much as Mark Lee, your first college boyfriend did.

“But you sure had a reason for it, come on!” Jihoon huffs, taking the tub of ice cream from your hands and opening it for you, since you’ve gotten quite weak from the lack of sleep and nutritions ever since the break up, hands clammy and not cooperating. “You don’t just break up with someone to break your own heart. He did that, that’s why you said goodbye to him,” he says before sitting the enormous tub of ice cream between your two bodies, nudging you to dig into the frozen delicacy.

“Yeah, but–”

“No buts, young lady. We are here to make you forget you ever even dated Mark Lee, so open up, eat the ice cream and focus your attention on Titanic so you can finally cry it out,” he says, and by the tone of his voice, you’d think he’s angry with you. Jihoon has this aura around him that makes you think he’s always at least a little annoyed at everything– but he told you to not mind it and that it’s just his sassy bitch attitude. 

He does have a point, though. You broke up with Mark because he broke your heart first– there was no other reason for it. If it was something minor, something small, you were sure you could work on it. You have, numerous of times before, brought up something and had a mature conversation about it– something you always so admired about Mark, being so cautious and understanding when navigating problems in the relationship– but when you bring up the same thing over and over, and it never gets fixed despite him telling you he’ll try harder next time, you think you’re allowed to feel a little heartbroken at his nonexistent efforts. And that’s exactly why you decided to quit the relationship– after a while, you felt like you were putting in more effort than he was, effectively making you feel like he’s not even that interested in dating you in the first place.

First, he just told you he was forgetful. He forgot he promised to pick you up from class one day– and you said that it’s okay, he is busy, after all– and it was the first time it happened, so you didn’t really mind that much, truly. Then, he forgot about the date you scheduled– but it was fine, because you didn’t have reservations anyway, you could change the day to any other day of the week, after all. He kept forgetting the stuff you told him in between the conversations you shared– and it was small things, you understand, but sometimes, you wondered if he was ever really listening to you at all. 

Forgetful soon turns not interested in your eyes, and when he doesn’t call you in the evening like he promised he would, when he doesn’t show up to the party you invited him to, because he forgot it was that day, you’re one step closer to calling it quits, because each and every one of these situations sends a sharp pain into your stomach. The last straw was just last week, though– and realistically, it was an important day, as much that you thought the day is somehow gonna fix everything, but the truth is somewhere completely else as Mark Lee forgets about your one year anniversary and never shows up at your doorstep for the dinner you prepared for the two of you like he promised he would. 

And it doesn’t click in him two days after either– you don’t even get a text. He got so forgetful over time that he forgot about you completely, and that’s when you took an uber to his place and broke up with him for good.

And even though the breakup was the most painful thing you’ve ever felt yourself go through, Jihoon is right– you’re not the one that broke your own heart. Mark Lee did that for you many times before, and this was just the breaking point.

“Fucking hell, you bought cookies and cream again?” Jihoon huffs when he takes another spoonful of the ice cream into his mouth, eyebrows furrowing at the sweet taste. Looking at him from the corner of your eye, you wipe your left cheek as you hum, immune to his nagging by now.

“You know I hate cookies and cream!”

“You know, Hoon, I bought this for myself. When you’re the one that’s heartbroken, we’ll share your favorite ice cream flavor instead,” you mumble, munching on the coldness on your tongue, sniffling a little when your eyes avert to the TV screen.

And after that, the teasing from your best friend’s side stops. Maybe it’s just because he hates to see you cry– and he rarely gets the chance, if you’re being honest, since you’re pretty good at handling your emotions– but you secretly know that it’s because when he looks back at the TV screen in front of the two of you, the sad part of the movie hasn’t even started yet and the tears are not the result of the movie, but of your own thoughts instead.

Step two – give him back all of his stuff and the stuff he’s given you that reminds you of him. Demand that he does the same.

Now, step two was a thing most couples do when they break up. Realistically, it makes sense– you wouldn’t want stuff that’s not yours just laying around, and also, it’s just bound to remind you of the person you lost. Naturally, you’d want to return it.

“Why does he have to return my things as well?” you mutter under your breath as Jihoon helps you fold all Mark’s hoodies into a cardboard box, alongside with wrapping the little things your ex boyfriend made out of ceramic for you in tissue paper like you asked him to– even though he complained and said that it shouldn’t matter to you if they break, because you are the heartbroken one– but you held those little things too close to your heart to let them get damaged in the first place.

“Because that’s how it works,” Jihoon hums, watching as you throw another one of Mark’s shirts onto the top of his head, shielding his vision. “What, you don’t want your stuff back?”

“I mean…” you mumble, deeply considering of the fact that the thought of getting your stuff back didn’t even cross your mind until now, before you realize your favorite pair of socks is thrown somewhere in Mark’s drawers– the blue ones with peaches on them– and you suddenly have the revelation that while you don’t necessarily need the stuff back, you’d love to wear those socks again. “I guess…” you note as you walk over to Jihoon and take a glance into the full cardboard box, looking over the stuff and chewing on the inside of your cheek.

“It’s like witchcraft, y’know,” Jihoon points out, looking at you with fierce eyes mirroring the stupid idea that just flashed through his brain, “if you don’t exchange the things, a piece of you is still kept at his apartment and you won’t be able to move on.”

And again, Park Jihoon does have psychopathic tendencies, but he may be onto something here. So you listen to him as you nod along and close the cardboard box, ready to drive over to Mark Lee’s apartment and drop off the things you’ve collected from him for the past year. The box includes all of the clothes messily scattered across your drawers and your closet, the picture frame of you two together that you always had on your night stand, the ceramic bowls and a little tiger sculpture he made for you when he took a pottery class with his friend Renjun, and the lost guitar pics you found under your bed and at the very top of your bookshelf from when he used to bring his guitar along and play you songs on rainy afternoons. The only things of Mark’s that you kept were the love letter he gave you for your birthday and the USB with his cover of Justin Bieber’s Off my face on it that he shyly gifted to you on one of your dates; but you would never tell Jihoon that in fear of him getting rid of those most precious memories for you.

It’s good to let go, but you don’t think you’re wrong for wanting to keep something to remind you of the good times. The times you still felt loved by Mark.

“Off we go,” you say, standing up and bringing the box towards your front door, your best friend at your feet. He promised to drive you to Mark’s place– you think he’s worried about you meeting your ex-boyfriend face to face for the first time since the break up, but he said it’s because you’re too broke to Uber all the time, efficiently throwing all the considerate thoughts you were accrediting him out the window– and after a few minutes of the drive, you find yourself standing on the doorstep of Mark Lee's apartment.

Taking a deep breath in and out, almost chickening out with the flood of thoughts and excuses you could say to Jihoon when you come back to his car with the box still in your hands– sayings like “he wasn’t home” or “he didn’t want those back”, the latter stupider than the first– you decide to face your problems head-on and finally knock on the mahogany door, waiting for Mark to answer. And he does– of course he does, because he’s always home, and as his ex-girlfriend of one year, you're painfully aware of the fact– but when that happens, you feel your heart falling all the way down to your stomach, crushing you and suddenly making it hard for you to breathe. 

“Um… hi,” he greets you, voice a little groggy, as if he hasn’t spoken in a while– and when you meet his eyes, the deep chocolate orbs you always found yourself admiring and writing silent odes to in your head, you quickly glance away in fear of staring into them for too long and making decisions you wouldn’t like to make.

“Hi,” you awkwardly greet back, clearing your throat and moving a little in your place, shifting the weight from one foot to the other. You're surprised you're able to keep up with the conversation, thoughts running in your brain faster than you can comprehend them, heartbeat ringing in your ears from the unexpected anxiety. Maybe Jihoon was right and you should've taken a shot before coming here– at least you'd have more courage and social skills clearly needed for this kind of interaction. “I… brought you back your things,” you say, finally looking up at the male and chewing on your lips, letting out an awkward, tense laugh when he stares at you with an empty look, “figured you’d want them back,” you add, watching as the male opens his mouth and closes it in what seems to be shock before he presses his lips tightly together and nods at you.

“Uh, yeah,” he says, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly as he watches you clumsily hold up the cardboard box to him, ready to leave his stuff there with him and escape as fast as you can, not really minding how you'll get back to Jihoon's car– if jumping down the window of the entrance hall is the fastest option, you're ready to get to it. The truth is, everything is starting to get a little too hard to bear– his familiar scent filling your nose, the hoodie he wore to your first date enveloping his figure, his messy hair reminding you of the many times you brushed your fingers through it in attempts to smooth it down. It’s only been two weeks since you last saw him, but it was starting to feel as if you forgot about him already and were now relearning all the things you once fell in love with again, looking at him in the same light, yet noticing him and all the small details a little bit differently. “Thanks, I… I actually, uh… I have your stuff here too, so if you want it back I’ll– I can just–”

“Y-yeah,” you nod, almost a little too eagerly, “that would be… cool,” you say, trying hard to ignore the fact that he had your stuff packed too, intending to give it to you, and the crashing reality that comes with it, telling you he was prepared to do this before you were and how it’s making you feel kind of shitty.

Mark moves further into the apartment, the sound of him dropping the box to the floor filling your ears before he’s back at the door in no time, a similar cardboard box in his hands that he offers to you with a tense smile on his face. “Wanted to bring it around so I had an excuse to see you, but you, uh… beat me to it, I guess…” 

Looking at him as you take the box out of his hands, gaze as if to tell him not to say such words to you when you’re still so fragile to his effect, you only nod and mutter out a simple “Thanks,” before you turn on your heel and intend to take the stairs back down.

“I’ll… see you around, then?” Mark calls after you as you take the first step out– something about it making you feel like it’s the first step out of his life, in a way– and you only nod, because one, you truly don’t know how else to reply to this question, and two, you really, really don’t know if you’ll ever see him again, but you can't bring yourself to say it to his face. Somehow, it would feel like torture to admit it– and you're not prepared for that reality just yet.

Rushing outside and getting into Jihoon's car, you almost feel like you’re on the verge of breaking, and when the male asks you how it went as he’s reversing out of the parking lot, you only bid him a one-word reply before you look through the box on your way home, too impatient to stay back from the memories.

And Jihoon didn’t really think this one through, because the fact that you gave Mark back the things that reminded you of him meant that he did the same, and now all the things you brought along to Mark’s apartment were in the cardboard box, all stained with countless memories and feelings attached to each and every single thing. The artwork you made for him, the little heart-shaped keychain you gave him for his birthday, the plant you gave him that was now long dead and dried out– those were once your stuff, but all in this world with the intention of love being sent out through them to your now ex-lover, and the fact that they’re in your possession again instead of his is not making letting go of Mark any easier. 

And maybe Mark was right and he truly was forgetful, because as you rummage through the contains of the box, while you find out your favorite blue socks are nowhere to be seen, surely still buried somewhere in the drawers of his closet, obliterated out of his memory, there’s a gray hoodie sitting at the bottom and it’s surely not yours– it’s his and it was always your favorite, and you always used to wear it at his place when you got cold or when you just really wanted to smell his cologne, and you suddenly don't know if it's presence in the box slipped his mind or if he truly left it there on purpose. 

Couldn’t he forget about that too?

Step three – block his number.

The third step comes into place after you accidentally slip out to Jihoon about the phone call you get on a Friday night– more like two hours into Saturday already– and now, most of all, you must admit that your best friend might be right about his advice.

Your phone starts ringing at 2:11 AM, and while you weren’t sleeping– you’ve been having some trouble with dozing off without being overbeared with thoughts lately– the name flashing on your screen shocks you for more reasons than one. 

Mark Lee calls you, three weeks after your breakup, in the middle of the night. You haven’t spoken since the time he gave you back your stuff, and even though you’ve done quite a bit of stalking on his social media, you have no news of him or his whereabouts. Naturally, a call from him in the middle of the night startles you and shakes you to the core. He has no reason to call you, so your brain does the math and concludes there must be an emergency– and god knows that even after being hurt by him, you could never ignore him and leave him hanging in a state of need.

So you pick up– with shaky hands and a raging heartbeat, expecting the worst. Listening to the other side of the line, you take a deep breath in and out, bracing yourself for the impact of the words you’re going to hear. The voice on the other side is laced with haziness and his tone is almost a little tired– worn out, even– when he finally greets you from wherever he is.

“Hi,” Mark says, and for a second, your heartbeat steadies itself and the world stops spinning– he sounds okay, and for a moment, you’re grateful to hear his voice.

Humming, as if to collect your thoughts, you clear your throat before you offer him an answer. “Hello,” you greet, “what’s- what’s up?”

“Just wanted to hear your voice,” he says, almost a little abruptly to your question. He doesn't overthink his answer and he doesn't give himself time to think if it's a good idea or not– he just blurts it out and now it's your problem to deal with, when it's there, out in the open. Your palms get sweaty and you start to lose feeling in your fingertips, making you take a few seconds to yourself to process the situation before you decide to finally answer to the strange sentence. 

“It’s late, Mark,” you mumble, and you involuntarily wonder if the sentence doesn’t have double meaning– it's too late for anyone to call at this hour, and at the same time, it’s been weeks since your ex boyfriend lost the privilege of listening to your voice when he can’t sleep in the middle of the night whenever he feels like it– and it’s now too late to do anything about it or make it any easier to deal with.

“Shit, sorry,” he chuckles to himself, and you suddenly recognise the laziness in his voice to be the effect of his and his best friend Hyuck’s Friday endeavors; the sweet coating of his voice being the effect of none other than the momentary bliss that comes with the relaxation of his body and mind when he's high. “Didn’t realize,” he concludes, making you shake your head at him in disbelief– not really mattering that he can’t see you in the act.

“‘s okay,” you mumble– and in your perfect reality, you hang up the phone now. In your perfect reality, you connect it to your charger and close your eyes, calling it a night. You fall asleep with no thoughts rummaging through your brain and wake up in the morning to a new sunny day, ready to take on the responsibilities of what’s to come, having productive days ended with smiles and a hot dinner you make for yourself just because you feel like it. In your perfect reality, you protect your own heart. This is not your perfect reality, though– and that’s why you stay on the line, listening to Mark ramble on the other side of the phone, intoxicated and slightly out of it. You wonder if he’ll remember calling you when he wakes up tomorrow. You wonder if he’ll regret it, or if he’ll just shrug his shoulders at the fact and go on with his day, not really paying you much thought when he’s sober.

“I was with Hyuck just now,” he says, and you hear the rustling of his sheets on the other side of the line, making you wonder if he’s washed up and ready for bed, “and– and I remembered how we all used to hang out together, y’know… you with us all– you always clicked with my friends and it was so cool and stuff… and I realized, right, they’re not as funny when you’re not around… but anyways… Jeno’s girlfriend asked about you, ‘cause she didn’t know…and telling her felt so silly, ‘cause they all kept looking at me and I knew they were pitying me, but it was my fault in the first place–”

“Mark–” 

“No, it’s true. And it’s cool, I don’t– I don’t blame you, or anything. I just… I dunno, I guess it got me wondering…”

The line goes silent on the other side, and you settle into your own bed, giving him time to continue. When he doesn’t say anything for a long time, you wonder if he’s fallen asleep.

“Mark?”

“Hm?”

“You still there?”

“Yeah. How was your day?” he asks, tone of voice casual as ever, as if he’s forgotten about all the words he’s told you up until now–  as if it’s not 2 AM and both of your hearts aren’t breaking at the sound of each other’s voice on the other side of the line.

“It… it was okay, I guess,” you say nonetheless, too hopeless to find a way to end the conversation before he does. 

“That’s good to hear,” he says, sighing, “that’s… awesome. You still taking those yoga classes on Mondays?” he asks, and you snicker to yourself– because what kind of question even is that? Who asks that on a late night call, when there are more important things you two need to talk about?

“Yeah,” you lie, still. You haven’t been since the breakup.

“That’s great. Wouldn’t want you to… y’know,” he laughs to himself, “be too sad over this… ‘t was for the better, after all.”

You hear yourself hum– the noise way more stable than your actual words ever could be– and you find yourself feeling silly in the conversation, lying to your ex boyfriend through your teeth; because at the end of the day, you don’t want him to worry about you– because it seems to be the case that he is. And it’s stupid, because he hurt you and you shouldn’t care, maybe you should’ve even show him that you’re heartbroken and that he is the reason behind your pain and the way your life is falling apart, bit by bit, but you don’t find it in you to be so cold and heartless. At the end of the day, you still care about Mark and there’s nothing you could do about it. Turns out that breaking up with him doesn’t magically make the feelings go away– and you knew that, but now you have proof.

“What were you saying before, by the way? You… trailed off at the end,” you say, reminding him of his previous words.

“Oh, that,” he snickers into the microphone again, a heavy sigh escaping his lips as he twists and turns in the sheets, “don’t worry about it. It was selfish of me.”

It was selfish of him to call in the first place. But you won’t tell him that.

“What was it?”

“It’s just… I was wondering if I lost you forever, y’know… if there was a chance we could ever…” he trails off again, but this time, you don’t bug him to complete it. You’re not stupid– you know the implication of his words. You’ve known him for a long time, after all– maybe you should’ve predicted this when you picked up the call.

“I mean…” you hum, “you didn’t lose me completely, if that’s– if that’s what’s keeping you up at night. We’re still friends, aren’t we?” you say, and in the corner of your brain, you can’t even believe the words yourself– but if it was selfish of him to call, you think it’s okay for you to selfishly fill both of you with empty promises, just for the sake of not breaking your heart even further.

“Yeah,” he mumbles, “that’s– …I’m glad.”

The line’s silent after that, and you wonder if you two have used up the list of words to say to each other this time, if there’s truly no other answer at the end of this conversation. When the situation gets too much for you to bear, the heaviness finally settling on your shoulders and your chest, you finally find the courage to sniffle out a quiet goodbye.

“Good night, Mark.”

“G’night,” he drags out, mind still cloudy. “Love you,” spills out from his tongue, like a bad habit.

He ends the call before you get to say it back. Maybe that’s for the better.

And the truth is, you should’ve really listened to Park Jihoon and blocked Mark’s number after this encounter. But you didn’t– you’re too weak for Mark’s sweet words, finding yourself still hanging on to his saccharine voice and the muffled ramble he has reserved for you only every time he gets high and loses all self-control before calling you on Friday nights selfishly demanding your attention, somehow falling for him like a teenager over and over again despite promising yourself you're gonna move on for real now.

Step four – date someone new.

“So…” Jihoon starts one day, eyes glued to your skull like laser beams, the tone of his voice so incomprehensible you think he’s going to scold you for the actions of your previous days– even though you haven't told him about the midnight calls with Mark and so if he's not going through your phone, he has no way of knowing. Tense and nervous, still, knowing that the impact of his words could either heal you or cut you open like a knife– damn him for always being so brutally honest, no matter how soft his heart is for you– you smile at him with tight lips, crossing your arms on your chest in defense.

“So…?” 

A nervous laugh almost escapes your throat. If Jihoon wasn’t suspicious of you before, he surely is now– or he just finds you strange by the way he furrows his brows at you and scans you up and down, taking a second for himself before he sighs and seemingly decides to drop the weird way you’re acting right now, shaking his head and focusing on the task at hand.

“I was thinking… my friend asked about you,” he says, nonchalantly looking down onto his hands and taking the dirt out from behind his nails, as if it’s not a big deal and he doesn’t even care that much. “Choi Hyunsuk from Biology, you know him– shabby haircut, kinda short, failed the class so he has to retake it this year…?”

“I think you’re forgetting the fact that the two of us have completely different majors, Hoonie,” you sweetly smile at him with irony, making him roll his eyes with a sigh before he tries again.

“The guy who ripped his pants at Xiao Dejun’s party last year?”

“Oh, that one! You should’ve said that earlier, of course I remember Choi Hyunsuk from your Biology class,” you nod hurriedly, the gears finally clicking in your brain.

“As if I wasn’t talking about him for the last few minutes–”

“Okay, and what about him?” you cut him off, already tired of his annoying tangent.

“I said he asked about you.”

“I heard that already,” you nod, looking at him with expecting eyes. “And?”

Jihoon stares at you, unblinking, as if you fell on your head and he’s trying to comprehend if you’re still here with him or if you got a concussion and need to be transferred into a hospital. When the contact of his eyes on your skin gets a bit too uncomfortable– you swear his looks could actually kill someone, if he tried enough– you furrow your brows at him in confusion and shake your head in disbelief.

“Why are you staring at me like that, Park Jihoon?”

“Just tryna see if you’re really that stupid or if you’re just pretending,” he mutters under his nose before he sighs again– his favorite activity whenever you’re around, it seems– and speaks up again, tone of voice reminding you of a kindergartener teacher trying to explain why it gets dark in the evening to a bunch of 4 year olds. “You know, when people ask about you, they are usually interested in you, as in, my friend Hyunsuk didn’t ask because you’re nice, but because you’re hot, if you know what I'm getting onto.”

“Oh,” you get out, eyes wide in concern and a little shaken-up, “well, that’s… nice of him, I guess.”

Jihoon only hums at you before he looks around himself and brings out the bag of chips that he left open by his right side only a few seconds ago, not really speaking more about the topic. It’s either he’s waiting for you to get what he’s hinting at, or he’s just waiting for you to get even more confused and ask him about it in a few seconds again– either way, he’s not the one doing more talking right now, because conversations with you, the most oblivious person he’s ever seen, are never productive if he goes too fast.

Chewing on the chips, his eyes go wide when you finally open your mouth and talk more about the topic at hand– just like he predicted. “Why are you telling me this?”

Your best friend swallows before he places the bag of chips back to its original place and turns his whole body so he’s facing you, speaking up again. “I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, you’d like to hang out with him. Like a date, before you ask– because I know you’re gonna ask– and why? – because, again, I know you’re gonna ask– because I simply think you should try to date again to get your mind off the loser you broke up with two months ago,” he says, blunt and honest, answering all of your unsaid questions at once, and before you know it, he has you snickering and shaking your head in disapproval.

“Absolutely not,” you retort, waving your hands in the air to only further show your disagreement with the proposition, “that would just be a massive catastrophe.”

“Why? Hyunsuk’s nice.”

“I didn’t say he isn’t, it’s just…”

“Just?” he probes you, eyebrows raised and questioning.

“I… don’t know,” you nervously chew on the inside of your cheek, aimlessly shrugging. “I just don’t think it’s a good idea, Jihoon.”

“Because of Mark?” he asks, and the moment his name escapes your best friend’s mouth, the whole room goes strangely quiet– you feel your heartbeat in your throat, the tips of your fingers start tingling and you swear that if you concentrate hard enough, you could feel a bead of sweat drip down your forehead with the incoming stress and nerves only the mention of your ex boyfriend brings you.

“No, that’s not it–”

“Sure,” he nods, sighing to himself– and there it is again, the judging look you so despise.

“You can’t just expect me to date other people a few weeks after my break up, Jihoon,” you exclaim, “that– that wouldn’t even be fair to your friend. You know I wouldn’t be invested,” you explain, and your friend rolls his eyes in frustration, sighing to himself.

“Oh but I know that! And Hyunsuk does too,” he shakes his head at you, “just thought the company of someone else could take your mind off things.”

“I have you,” you try.

“Yeah, but all we do when we’re together is mope about Mark Lee,” Jihoon snickers, “and don’t get me wrong, I’m more than open to bitch about your ex boyfriend and as your best friend, I don’t mind, but the fact that you’d be hanging out with someone else could take your mind off him, because you wouldn’t feel comfortable talking about him with someone else, y’know?”

You shut your eyes closed, a heavy sigh heaving out of your body as you try hard to concentrate and not lose it, and with how Jihoon’s tone gets softer and he’s not as loud with his brutal, yet logical advice, he must feel you getting overwhelmed and accommodates to your needs. “Look, it’s gonna be fun. I promise. Hang out with someone new, feel wanted and hot and pretty again, get some male attention that’s not your ex boyfriend, and you’ll see how it makes you feel. If you hate it, you hate it and you can slap me, I don’t know... If you don’t, you can keep dating around with my friends, and I swear I’ll hook you up only with the nice ones,” he takes your hand into his and waves it around in comfort, making you open your eyes and look at him again.

Seeing the softness and encouragement in your best friend’s eyes, you sigh to yourself. All this time, he’s tried to help you– what if you finally follow his advice? Who knows, it might even help. 

Sighing, you squeeze his palm and hover over him to get the stranded bag of chips he’s guarding on the other side of the sofa. “Fine,” you mutter, “but let your friend know that he’s the one paying, okay?”

“Perfect. I'll text him your number, then.“

And maybe Jihoon was right and after dolling yourself up and dressing up in your favorite dress just so you would feel as comfortable as possible, you don’t feel as bad when his friend Hyunsuk picks you up in his white Volvo and chats with you on the way to the restaurant. He makes good small talk and even gets a giggle out of you, the music in his car is low and you find yourself slowly easing into the situation. You don’t remember when the last time you went out with a guy that wasn’t Mark was, but it’s surprisingly nice. 

And Jihoon was right– you feel pretty. And when Hyunsuk opens the door for you after pulling up to the parking lot of the restaurant, you even feel wanted. You like the attention, just like any other girl would, and the smile you offer to your date seeps of tender shyness as you get out of the comfortable seat of his car. 

The illusion, though, is soon broken as you notice the restaurant he pulled up to. Your smile freezes, your palms get sweaty and you feel your heartbeat rummaging against your ribcage as soon as the idle atmosphere of the restaurant opens up before you. And realistically, you could turn on your heel and get back to the car, tell Hyunsuk that you want to go to another restaurant– but you don’t do it, against your biggest wishes, because you worry that the boy already made a reservation and you don’t want to ruin an evening that’s going well so far.

“Everything alright?” your date checks up on you, seemingly noticing the frown on your face, and when his worried eyes meet yours, it’s sealed– you’d feel too bad for pulling out of the date now. So you only do what you always do best– you put on your best relaxed smile and nod, catching up to him and ensuring him that you’re all okay and you didn’t just talk yourself out of an anxiety attack. 

Because you owe it to him and to Jihoon– both of them worked so hard to make you feel happy and help you to get over your ex boyfriend. It’s not Hyunsuk’s fault that he just managed to pick the restaurant your said ex boyfriend works at part-time. He had no way of knowing, and if you’re lucky enough, Mark wouldn’t be on today. He only works here part-time, it’s not like he’s here every day, and as far as you’re concerned, he only worked like two or three days a week when you dated. It would be a weird coincidence for him to be working the day you go there with your new date– you hope you’re not that unlucky.

Hyunsuk is a gentleman. Opening up doors for you, pulling out the chair for you, letting you talk and not interrupting you. He watches you with fond eyes and you almost try to feel bad for the fact that even if this ended well, the poor boy would just end up being a rebound. He deserves so much more, and you start to worry if this date was a good idea after all. Wasn’t it selfish of you to agree to this? 

“What do you want to get?” he asks as you open up the menu, and you squint at the prices, mentally taking a note to order the cheapest thing just in case he wants to pay for you at the end of the evening. 

“Spaghetti Bolognese,” you blurt out, despite it not being your favorite meal. Hyunsuk just stares at you with squinted eyes, but doesn’t disagree with you. After all, he has no way of knowing that you dislike the taste of the sauce in most restaurants– even though your conscience tells you that Mark knew that and always made sure to remind you about it before ordering for you, worried that you won’t get to eat much that evening– the only thing left to hope is that it tastes good in this particular place. 

“Okay, sure,” he nods and puts the menu down, smiling at you before engaging in a comfortable conversation with you. It feels like you’ve known Hyunsuk forever– his personality oddly reminding you of Jihoon’s caused mainly by the fact that the two have grown up together. Everything flows soundly, but you still find yourself anxiously picking at your cuticles as you cautiously look around the restaurant, fearing the fact that you could catch a glimpse of your ex boyfriend at any second.

And maybe you should be a psychic, because those bad feelings were not there for nothing– when you see a waiter walking out of the back and eyeing your table, ready to get your order, the boy is a few inches taller than your current date, raven hair messy, but still a little styled, dark circles under the man’s eyes, and there he is– your ex boyfriend. Mark Lee halts in his movements, wearing his work uniform, eyes wide, a hint of something that breaks you at least in two mirroring in his orbs before he turns on his heel and disappears in the back again. When he doesn’t come back and his co-worker joins you and Hyunsuk at your table with a warm smile, you stop waiting to see the glimpse of him you selfishly desired to catch despite fearing the interaction the whole evening.

You want to fall through the floor and disappear in the depths of this earth. For some reason, you feel mortified. What would he think? And why do you even care about his feelings? A million different thoughts run through your brain and you worry that you’re being too distant from your current date, but Hyunsuk’s warm eyes reassure you that he doesn’t mind. 

Piercing the food on your table with your eyes, you try to battle the noisy words running around your brain. 

It’s easy to say you’re over someone when you don’t see them. To have them in front of you, meet their gaze and acknowledge their existence and still be able to nod and say that you’ve moved on, is something completely different. 

Were you ever convinced that you were over Mark Lee in the first place, though?

After all of this– the months of following Jihoon’s advice, although making a few mishaps along the way as you continue to pick up Mark’s calls on Friday nights, snoop around his socials and let your mind wander to places it shouldn’t, overthinking everything and making you wish the relationship never ended in the first place– it’s time for the last step of it all. The last, most crucial part of this whole moving on process– the most important one, if you may.

Step five – avoid him at all costs.

Sounds easy, right? After the four previous steps, you’d already cried plenty about the lost months with your ex-boyfriend. You’d already given him back all of his stuff, not tying yourself to him with any material memory. You’d already gone on a date with someone new, choosing to distract yourself instead of letting yourself feel the emotions. After all the previous steps, this one’s supposed to be the easiest one. The one you’re supposed to want to do, after all. The break-up wasn’t messy, but it was still painful– it’s only natural for you to not want to see Mark ever again, right?

Wrong.

Because you never listen to the advice you’re given. That just wouldn’t be you, would it?

And so when Mark Lee calls you one day and tells you that he has a free train ticket to the Bukhansan stop, explaining that he was supposed to go hike there with Donghyuck who canceled on him last minute because of an assignment due midnight, you don’t really hesitate much before you shoot him a short text saying that you’re down and get ready for the short hike. 

When you meet your ex boyfriend at the station, his figure slightly slouched up until the moment his eyes meet yours, you feel the quiet tension in the air. You’ve seen each other a few times before this meeting– on a party you went to with Jihoon, at the campus when you went to class one morning, your ex boyfriend walking you towards the Art building, hell, you’ve even met in the grocery store, all accidental and making your heart leap in your chest with tension. This time, though, you’re here completely intentionally, just to hang out with him, and something about the fact makes a dull pain shoot all through your intestines, a sensation so uncomfortable you try to hide with a tight-lipped smile. 

“Ready for the hike?” he asks, adjusting the bag on his back, playing with the straps with clammy fingers. You can’t help but notice how he looks just like a little boy, in his little world, shielded from everything. He seems to have taken a protective stance, and you hate how the air between you shifted from how you two used to be when you were dating. Mark seems scared. Nervous. On top of his feet. Maybe you shouldn’t have agreed to this at all.

You’re already here, though. Turning around and leaving wouldn’t really work right now, as you take a step towards the train that’s just arrived, humming to your ex boyfriend in agreement. Taking a seat on the place Mark’s pointed to you on the train ticket, you try to loosen up your muscles and get as comfortable as you can, clearing your mind as you gaze outside of the window.

“How have you been?” he asks, clearing his throat.

Pressing your lips into a tight line, you turn to him as you search for an answer. “Better,” you nod, voice quiet. “You?”

Mark hums, chewing the inside of his cheek. “Good, good,” he lies through his teeth, “I’ve seen you at the restaurant the other day,” he hints, and you battle the sigh that’s begging to cut out of your throat. You don’t know where he’s going with the sentence. It’s not a question– only a proposition, barely even that– and you could ignore it with a nod of your head, you could pay it no mind as you see the bitterness in his gaze and the slightly self-conscious averting of his stare. You don’t know where he’s going with the conversation, but frankly, you don’t know where you are going with your answer either, as you shrug to him in a casual manner and peep under your breath.

“Yeah,” you say, “that was just… Jihoon’s friend from uni, I suppose,” you complete, and the sentence hints at nothing– it doesn’t clear out the confusion, it doesn’t outright say anything that could make Mark believe that it was just a casual hang-out with a friend, but still, you see the boy visibly relax as he nods to you and offers you a tight-lipped smile.

“Oh,” he hums, looking out of the window, past the profile of your face. The change in topic is sudden and sharp, but also welcome as he falls into a casual conversation with you, and suddenly, you’re reminded by the Mark you once knew– the guy you’ve once called not socially awkward, but so social that it’s awkward– as he talks to you about his day and rambles on about the weather. “It’s good that it won’t rain today, I bet the view will be nice.”

Locking your gaze with him for a brief second, you lick your lips and point your eyes towards the ground. It’s good that it won’t rain today, as opposed to last time you two went to the Bukhansan trail. You wonder if he remembers.

Before you have a chance to mention it– and in all reality, you won’t, no matter how bold you could be feeling at the moment– the train comes to a stop at your station and you hop out of the carriage, ready for the hike.

It’s easy to forget how messed up things have gotten between the two of you when you walk alongside with your ex boyfriend, laughing at his silly jokes and gasping at everything he shows to you with a pointed finger, finding yourself admiring the sound of his giggle when he spots a squirrel pass your path somewhere near the top of the hill. The trail is almost empty at this hour, since the two of you have decided to go in the late afternoon, and you find your soul to finally be at peace after so many weeks, you finally feel relaxed in the nature, one with the wind and the gentle sound of birds chirping lullying your running thoughts to a rest. 

You realize that this is just what you needed all this time. You needed to get out and walk for some while, to tune out yourself and to accept the fact that you’re still here, for another day, and something about that is still a blessing. Watching the back of Mark’s head as he walks a step in front of you due to the narrowness of the trail in this area, you smile to yourself. It’s easy to forget just how much you were hurt by him when he heals your soul with such a simple gesture. It’s easy to forget you were hurt when he seemingly tries to put all the broken pieces back together, glue them to where they were in the first place, when things were easier and you both didn’t have so many things to worry about. 

You reach the top just as the sun starts setting over the horizon, and there are only a few people scattered across the peak, sitting on their own picnic blankets and gazing into the distance. The hues of the sky paint the world in a different color, the oranges, pinks and muted purples playing with your heartstrings as you come to a halt and crouch down and feel the presence of another soul mirror your actions only a meter away to your right, his gaze glued to your side. The view is beautiful, but the feeling of being watched isn’t ignorable anymore, and so you turn to your companion and raise your eyebrows at him, wondering if he has something to say.

You don’t know how you’ll be able to come back to your life after this and pretend you still don’t want to spend every passing second with the man on your right. You don’t know how you’re supposed to ignore the ever so growing love for him– even though after being so disappointed with the past, the feelings should be decreasing, not doing the opposite– and frankly, you don’t even want to think of going back to the way it’s been for the past few months. And so you don’t– you allow yourself to indulge the moment, to ignore the pain that’s about to come, just so you could hold another beautiful memory to your heart and enjoy the moment before it hurts you to think of it tomorrow morning. 

“It’s even more beautiful than the last time,” Mark hums, but his eyes never leave your figure– if you were still dating, you bet he’d come out with a cheesy line about how you’re prettier than the view, or something. “It didn’t rain this time around, thank god.”

Gazing at him, you shake your head in disbelief. Scoffing, you play with the grass between your fingers. “You remember that?”

“Yeah,” he hums, “I remember a lot of things.”

The sentence makes you bitterly chuckle. He knows why you’re reacting the way you are– and you have every right to. He claims to remember a lot of things, but the ones important to you, the ones you wanted him to remember, he failed to save into his memory. And that’s eventually what made you break up with him, at the end of it all.

At your reaction, he sighs and drags a hand across his face, seemingly realizing the weight of his own words and just how ridiculous he must have sounded to you right now. 

“I- That-” he stutters, shaking his head, “that sounded stupid right now, considering… everything… Didn’t it?”

“Kind of,” you nod, not wanting to meet his eyes. 

“I’m sorry,” he blurts out, voice suddenly raw and serious, so different to the tone he’s been using with you the whole afternoon, “I don’t- I can’t remember if I said that back then, when you- when you… broke up with me, but I really am sorry, Y/N. You didn’t deserve that, and I am in no way shape or form trying to make this about me, but I hate myself every day for the way things turned out and if I could go back to that day, I’d do so many things differently.”

The sky in front of you deepens in reds and you taste iron on your tongue, suddenly hyper-aware of the fact that you’ve managed to bite on your lip too hard in the midst of the conversation. Tearing out stems of grass with your clammy fingertips, you focus on the clouds running through the sky, calculating your next response.

“Okay,” you nod, not giving him much else. The answer perfectly encapsulates the way you feel on the inside right now– you don’t know if you’re ready to accept his apology, if you’re ready to let go of it and act like you weren’t hurt or that none of it ever happened, but you listened to him and you internalized his words. He is sorry. He knows he was in the wrong. And you were aware that he knew all of this before– hell, you’d even go as far as say he knew it the moment you knocked on his door that day and told him it was over– but hearing it from him surely moved something inside of you to a more comfortable place.

“I-” he starts, voice breaking making him clear his throat before he continues, “I don’t expect you to forgive me. And I know I shouldn’t have expected you to still be my friend after all of this, and that- I shouldn’t have even called you so many times and approached you at the store and stuff, but um-” he mumbles, shrugging to himself, “I guess I just couldn’t stay away from you. And again, I don’t expect you to forgive me, I don’t expect you to do anything, really. So… yeah…”

Snickering at his aimless monologue, you shake your head in disbelief. “Mark?”

“Yeah?” he stares at you, eyes a bottomless pool of emotion.

“Why did you invite me here today? What was the… point, I guess?” you ask, hugging your knees to your chest as the breeze makes goosebumps appear all over your body. 

Mark offers you a sad smile, head leaned to his right as he shrugs, and this time, his eyes don’t leave yours as he spills the truth into the air. “I guess I was just feeling selfish today,” he hums, and the sentence makes you cringe with the memory of his first call to you after your break up, “wanted to spend time with you.”

“Here, of all places?”

“Yeah,” he nods, “told you. I was feeling selfish.”

Snickering, you look away, staring at the sky again. The colors are starting to blend together into a deep, dark purple– the horizon darkening as the sun starts to say its final goodbyes to the day. You sigh to yourself, yet feel no bitterness or terror at his words. Somehow, you understand. Somehow, you get him a little too well. Somehow, you think you knew the moment he texted you today, and somehow, you think you felt it in your bones when you didn’t say no, although you could have. There’s calmness in your soul when you nod at the implication of his words, leaning back on your elbows and plopping your bottom to the ground, sitting at the dusty surface. 

“You said you didn’t expect anything out of me today, Mark.”

“And I don’t,” he says, voice soft. 

“And you brought me here to remind me of the last time we went?” you stare at him, a hint of a bitten-back smile playing with your lips. “Because you’re selfish?” 

He nods, not escaping your gaze. “To remind you of the last time we went. To show you that… I remember, I guess. And that I still care, just like the last time. If not more.”

“Mark, you can’t just say all of this and expect nothing out of me right now,” you mutter.

“Actually, I can. Because that’s what I’m doing. I’m just… laying it out in the open, and what you do with the information is completely, completely up to you,” he explains, and you find yourself chuckling at him, the atmosphere instantly lighter as you hear his voice in its usual casualness, talking to you as if he was just unpacking what went on in class today, and not the starting and the end of your one year relationship.

And he’s right. What you do with the information is completely up to you, and the next steps and the progress of your relationship with Mark Lee is also completely in your hands. You could turn away and never talk to him again, you could curse at him and tell him that it’s too late now and he missed his chance, but if that was the case, you wouldn’t be here in the first place. He wouldn’t be inviting you to this place, lying about his roommate canceling just to trick you into going, and you wouldn’t be blindly accepting the invitation, wanting to see where the afternoon brings you. 

“So you still care about me?” you hum, looking at him from under your eyelashes, noticing his slouched-over pose as he looks back at you over his shoulder.

“Always have,” he admits, “never stopped. Despite not really… acting like it in the past few months.”

“Why’d you stop acting like it, then?” you ask.

A sigh escapes his lips, his head turning forward before he leans back and sits cross-legged on the ground, more comfortably now. Shrugging, he answers the question. “I guess I just got too caught up with different things. And don’t get me wrong, you were always my priority, always, but I was all over the place with everything and my mind just couldn’t… there were too many things to keep up with and I couldn’t stay up to date with everything,” he says, “and I know it’s not an excuse, but it’s an explanation, and it doesn’t make it better or undo the pain I’ve caused you, but it’s… at least you know it was never because I’d care about you any less.”

His eyes bear into yours with such honesty you think the weight of the world will crash on you any minute, and suddenly, the whole situation seems so much clearer.

And you wouldn’t take it back, you wouldn’t undo the breakup or do anything differently, because at the end of the day, you think it was needed. Perhaps the time apart was what he needed as a wake up call and what you needed to shield yourself from hurting more. 

“Stop me from saying it if you… if you don’t want to hear it right now,” he hums, voice barely louder than a whisper. There seems to be a silent communication between the two of you, a connection of some sort that brings out the strange telepathy, but you just nod at him, a gentle smile playing with your lips as you understand exactly what he means, telling him that it’s okay and that you don’t mind– you welcome, you need to hear him say it again.

Licking his lips, he turns to you fully, facing you. There’s not a hint of nervousness in his body, having done this a lot of times before, and then it happens– the repeated confession, confirming what was there the whole time, never leaving even when the times were rough. 

“I love you,” he says.

And isn’t that all that’s needed? 

A year is a long time with someone. Somehow, you wouldn’t want the time to go to waste. At the end of the day, if love is still present, isn’t it worth trying? One more time?

“And you still don’t expect anything from me?” you ask, gazing at him softly. “You don’t expect me to say it back?”

“No,” he breathes out, shrugging. “I just needed to get it off my chest.”

“Because you’re selfish like that,” you nod, teasing him. 

“Because I’m selfish like that,” he agrees, breaking out into a slight grin.

Looking at the sky, now completely dipped in dark purple, you sigh to yourself at the turmoil of the conversation. You don’t say it back– although you feel it, you know it’s in there, playing with your heartstrings and clenching the muscle in the palm of its hand– you know love is there, deep inside, for the man that’s currently staring at you as if you hung the very stars appearing on the sky there yourself, stolen them from your own eyes and gluing them there selflessly, for everyone to see. You don’t tell him you love him back, you don’t tell him you forgive him or accept his apology. You don’t worry about what tomorrow will bring you, what your brain is going to tell you when you come down from the hill and get home, lay in your bed and overthink. You let the worries escape you, letting fondness and calm envelope you in a tight hug instead.

“Okay,” you nod, watching the boy next to you look at you with curious eyes. You take his hand into yours and place it on your thigh, playing with his fingers for a heartbeat before you meet his eyes again and smile. “I won’t say it back, but for all it’s worth, Mark… I’m glad you remembered.”

And that’s all he needs– there is love, there is fondness, and there is the silent confirmation that all you need right now is just a bit more time. 

Where do broken hearts go?

Somehow, you think they hold on to the place where it all started. Somehow, you think your heart never went anywhere– it stayed on this hill, waiting for you to pay it a visit and pick back up everything right from where you left it.

“It doesn’t seem like a good idea to go here today, Y/N,” Mark laughed behind you as he looked up to the sky, the dark clouds shielding the sun that had been previously shining down on your hiking figures, casting an orange glow on the strands of your hair. 

“Well, there’s no turning back now,” you shrugged, turning to him and grinning as you tugged on his hand, grip strong as you dragged the boy up the trail, your sneakers fast against the dirty ground. “We have finals starting next week and it’s gonna be too cold to go after the exam season is over, so we gotta go now.”

“I kind of regret telling you that I’ve never been here before now,” Mark sighed, but followed you nonetheless, breathlessly following your excited stride. It was October, the leaves on the trees were welcoming the two of you in shining colors, and the wind kissing your skin turned a bit chilly in the evenings– courtesy of the warm hoodie Mark shyly lended you when you shivered for the first time, adoring the way you, his friend, looked in the light gray fabric. Something about you wearing his clothes made the boy a bit hopeless about the day. Maybe he’ll have enough courage to confess his feelings to you, he thought. Maybe, despite the first raindrops falling on the skin of his bare arms, this evening will have a happy ending for you and him. 

“Oh, please,” you squinted at him, continuing to run up the hill– thank god it wasn’t that steep, serving both of you as the perfect hiking difficulty, “even if you wouldn’t have, I’d drag you here anyway. It’s like, my favorite place to go in Seoul, haven’t I told you before?”

You have, Mark thought. But he was okay with hearing it again. 

You squealed when the raindrops got heavier and the rain started pouring faster on the two of you, and Mark found himself laughing at your running figure. He was right behind you, praying that you don’t slip on one of the rocks and break your leg on the hiking trail, but he encouraged you with sweet comments and a hand on the small of your back as he watched the tip of the hill appear right in front of his very eyes, your body coming to a satisfied halt when you reached your destination.

“Tada!” you grinned at him, twirling a little like a ballerina, showing him the place with outstretched arms. He tried hard to observe the place, but his eyes stayed glued to your excited figure, gaze bearing into yours as you looked at him, amidst a little flustered, with sparkly orbs and a bright smile on your face. Your hair was a mess, his gray hoodie enveloping your body was slowly growing darker in color from absorbing the rain, and your sneakers were getting a bit muddy from walking around the place. He wanted to remember this moment forever, he thought– this version of you, the smiley expression on your face, the carefree and excited nature of your step. 

“Isn’t it beautiful?” you exclaimed, jumping around and nearing the boy, but as you went to take his hand to drag him around the top of the hill once more, your feet slipped and you fell forward, a surprised squeak battling its way out of your throat.

Your whole life flashed in front of your very eyes in that moment, embarrassment spreading down your neck at the fact that you were about to fall face first onto the ground in front of your crush of a few months, before your body collided with a soft, yet firm mass engulfing you closer. A pair of strong arms steadied you against his chest, and when you looked up at your friend, you swear all words were taken out of your dictionary, the sight leaving you speechless.

“It is,” he gaped, eyes bearing into yours. Mark was agreeing with you, but something in the back of your head was telling you that he didn’t really admire this place as much as you did– his curious gaze was always plastered somewhere completely else. 

That place being your face, of course. And your eyes, your cheeks, the mess of your bangs, and occasionally– screw that, almost always– your lips. Much like in that moment, a few centimeters away from his face, so inviting he thought it would be a crime to contain the urge. 

And so he didn’t– he didn’t control his feelings and the ever-so growing yearning for you, as he silently leaned towards your face and captured his lips with yours in a firm, yet short kiss.

He looked at you with a nervous tint behind his gaze when he leaned away, the sight of your wide eyes staring at him making a slight flush grow on his cheeks. You looked so beautiful in that moment– flustered, surprised, with messy hair and lips still apart– and he was relieved to not find a hint of a displeased emotion in your expression. 

“Okay, so- well-” you stuttered, laughing to yourself, “this didn’t go as I planned, but I guess I’m happy as long as the final result is the same,” you hummed, standing on your tippy-toes and pressing your lips against him once more, this time letting yourself enjoy the moment fully, mouth moving against his in a careful, yet excited rhythm. He tasted like the strawberry candy you offered him on the bottom of the trail and smelled a bit like rain, the mixture always staying in the depths of your mind as his warmth enveloped you in comfort and a feeling of home.

“The final result being…?” he asked when you pulled apart once again, a dazed expression overtaking his sharp features.

“Us,” you shrugged, “like this,” you clarified.

Mark laughed at that, hugging you closer to his chest. You rested your head on his shoulder, listening to the sound of raindrops washing away the top layer of dirt off the rocks on the tip of the hill, hands sneaking around his waist and enjoying the way they wrapped around him so tightly and so comfortably. You in his hoodie, in your favorite place, standing in his arms. It was raining, but it didn’t matter.

“Mark?” 

“Hm?” 

“If we ever get lost, or something happens… bring me back here, okay?” you mumbled close to his ear, lips gently glazing the skin of his ear, making goosebumps appear all over your new lover. “I’m convinced that this place could fix everything.”

“Even us?” 

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’re not allowed to ever leave me now, what would there be to fix between us?” you smacked his shoulder, snickering to yourself.

“You never know,” he laughed, “what if I accidentally mess up somewhere along the way?” he asked, threading his fingers through your hair, smoothing down the wet mess.

“Okay then,” you hummed, “even us.”

Staring into your eyes, letting the moment play out by itself, Mark swore he’s never felt more at peace. He wondered if it was the effect of the place, the rain, or just your sheer presence.  “I’ll remember that,” he giggled before he let go of your body, petting your head as he took a hold of your hand, tugging you down from where you came from, “now let’s go home before we catch a cold.”

Nodding, following the man as you both carefully, yet fastly made it down the trail, you enjoyed the way his hand fit into yours and the way you knew that after this, you can’t ever come back to being friends with Mark Lee. He was all yours, completely, utterly yours, and you knew in the back of your head, that you were his– and nothing will ever change that.

You would always come back to the hill with him. It felt ridiculous to think about you two ever having to fix anything between the two of you back then, but even in that moment, you knew that for him, you’d keep trying. As long as he does– as long as he remembers.

Where do broken hearts go? You guess they always come right back to the place they come from– and they leave glued back together every single time.

You guess your heart never really left the hill.

[fanfictiongirlie]

Marvel: Unplanned Chapter Three

Masterlist

Pairings: Bucky Barnes x Reader (First person written though)

Description:

"It says...it says it's positive doll" His voice matching mine in a quiet shaky whisper.

"Fuck... I'm pregnant?"

"Yeah doll, you're pregnant"

"Fuck" I whisper.

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: Mention of abortion, swearing. 

Chapter Words: 2,069

(I have the urge for every Marvel fanfic I write to have a seperate timeline where nothing bad happens, and everyone is happy)

A week later Bucky and I made our way to the Doctor's office, we had left the compound separately, not wanting to draw attention to ourselves, Bucky had met me in his car at the end of the incredibly long drive out of the compound. 

I hated the doctors, we sat in the waiting room, it was stuffy in here, full of people too, I hated it, but Bucky took my hand in his, holding it and doing that thing with his thumb, stroking the skin of my hand gently, it calmed me down. I could tell he felt nervous too, his knee was bouncing. 

"Hey...everything's gonna be alright doll" He whispers to me, there was a few looks from the others in the waiting room, they knew who we were, luckily people were scared of Bucky, and would never come up to him. 

"I hate the doctors" I whisper. 

"I know doll, I hate 'em too" He whispers back. 

Finally we were called in, I pulled Bucky's hand with me into the examination room, the Doctor I hadn't met before, but luckily she was a woman, I smiled faintly to her and she shook mine and Bucky's hand. I climbed onto the table and shut my eyes as the Doctor; Dr. Addams did her checks, once done she gave me a moment to dress. Once done, I sat nervously on the edge of the bed. 

"You're definitely pregnant" Dr. Addams spoke. "I'd say around 8 weeks" 

I didn't say much, but once Bucky and I could leave we did so, and got into his car. I stayed quiet on the drive home, not caring if anyone caught us getting out of the car together. Bucky followed me to my room, his hand never leaving mine as we did. Once in my room, and my door was shut I turned to him, tears falling down my cheeks again. 

"So...we're pregnant" I say, leaning against the closed door of my room. Bucky stood in front of me. 

"Yeah, doll...We're pregnant" 

"I still don't know what to do" I whisper. Bucky lets out a shaky breath, his hand moving to take mine in his again. He looks at me, his expression a mixture of concern and uncertainty. 

"Doll, I don't want to push you into anything, it's your choice in the end, but I just want you to know, that if you decide to keep it, I'm with you" He says, his voice so caring towards me. A few tears slipped from my eyes and onto my cheeks. 

"Thank you Bucky" I whisper, as I step forward into his arms. 

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Over the next week I spent a lot of time alone, thinking over my options. And I spent a lot of time crying, I had no idea what to do... At least I think I didn't. Only one option felt right, as scary as it sounded. I sighed and left my room, I walked through the compound until I found Bucky in the kitchen, along with Steve.. I sighed and walked over to the man. 

"Hey, can I talk to you?" I ask him, receiving an eyebrow raise from Steve, probably confused at the kindness in my voice. This was probably the kindest I had ever been to Bucky in front of someone. Bucky stopped his conversation with Steve and looked to me, his eyes narrowed slightly, he studies my features and stands. 

"Uh, yeah...sure" 

He follows me into the hallway, I walk a bit further, not wanting Steve to hear our conversation. Once alone, I stood and looked up at Bucky. 

"I've made a decision" I say quietly. I watch as his face changes into a inpatient expression, his body tensed, he reached forward taking my hand in his. 

"Okay...what decision did you make, doll?" He asks, his voice a bit hoarse as he responds. 

"I don't feel comfortable terminating...the baby...but I also don't like the idea of giving it away, so I want to keep it" I say confidently. I watch as Bucky's breath hitches in his throat, he said nothing for a few moments, stressing me out further. 

"You...you want to keep it? Raise it?"

"I think so...Only if you promise you'll be there for us" 

Bucky steps closer to me, his hands coming to rest on either side of my arms, holding me. "Doll, I promise you. I'll be there for you. For you and the baby, you won't do this along, I'm in it for the long haul, I'm never going anywhere" 

I smile softly as he rambles, his eyes full of excitement. 

"We should probably tell the team...wanna start with Steve first?" I ask, knowing telling the team was going to be...something else. Bucky nods eagerly, he takes my hand in his and pulls me back towards the kitchen. Steve looks at us, a quizzical look on his face as he sees us. He takes a sip of his coffee, which I look at longingly. 

"Oh fuck, I miss coffee" I say, off track. Bucky chuckles and nudges me slightly. 

"Right, yeah...Steve we have something to tell you" I say, Steve looks at the two of us, his eyes furrowed in confusion as he notices how closely we stood together. I watch as a hint of worry flashes in Steve's eyes, he puts his coffee down on the table, his attention completely on us. 

"Okay, what's up?" He asks. 

"Well it might be confusing, since Bucky and I are nothing but mean to one another.." I say, my words shaky as I talk. 

"Wait... don't tell me, you two...are actually getting along?" Steve asks. I chuckle nervously. 

"Not only do we get along...But I'm also pregnant" I say, my voice trembling. 

Steve's jaw nearly hits the floor, his eyes flicker between the two of us. 

"What? You're...you're pregnant? And..Bucky's...he's the father?" Steve asks. 

"Yep" I reply quietly. I watch as Steve's face goes through a range of emotions as he absorbs the information. Surprise, worry, happiness, and confusion all flicker across his features in a matter of seconds. He looks back and forth between me and Bucky several times before speaking again. 

"I...I don't know what to say...I had no idea you two were even able to have a conversation without insulting one another...let alone..having a child together" Steve says, his voice a little strong and stern. I shrink a little into myself, feeling a wave of emotions. 

"We...we've been sleeping together, for a little while" Bucky says, his hand rubbing the back of his neck. 

"This is a lot to take in" Steve says, he glances at Bucky, a myriad of questions in his eyes. 

"Yeah...I get that" I say, mumbling. I hear as Bucky sighs, he probably knows Steve is close to telling him off, understandable to be fair. 

"Bucky, I have to ask...how long has this been going on? And more importantly, when did you two start liking each other?" Steve asks, he reaches up to run a hand through his hair, usually his perfect tidy hair. 

"It happened a few months ago" I say first. I look to Bucky seeing a blush creep over his features. 

"Yeah...it was...unexpected" Bucky adds. 

"It was actually one of our arguments that started...this" I say smirking, fondly looking over at the kitchen counter. Bucky chuckles and nods, a small smile playing on his lips as he catches where I was staring. 

"Yeah..we got into a pretty heated argument one night...and somehow, things just escalated from there..." Bucky explained. 

"And now I'm pregnant" I say again, taking a deep breath "And I'm an Avenger...Oh fuck, I'm gonna have to stop Avengering" 

I whined as I spoke, it hadn't dawned on me yet. I frowned looking at Bucky. I watched Steve chuckle lightly. 

"Yeah...I hate to say it, but with the risk involved, it's not safe for you to continue any missions whilst pregnant" Steve explained. I groaned and glared at Bucky. Bucky winces slightly at my look, he takes a step closer to me, raising his hand to my arm. 

"Hey doll, it's not my fault! Steve's right, it's too dangerous" Bucky answers. 

"It is your fault! You put your penis in me" I argued back. I watched as both Steve and Bucky's cheeks flushed red at my blunt statement, Bucky's eyes widen as Steve chokes on his coffee. 

"I...yeah...I can't argue with that" Bucky chuckles nervously. 

"I should probably tell Tony" I say groaning. Bucky grimaces, he lets out a low sigh, unsure of what Tony's reaction would be. 

"Yeah...Stark's next on the list, he'll probably have a few questions" 

"Let's hope he's not mad for losing two Avengers" I say, knowing Bucky would stop missions when the baby was born. Bucky's expression softens a little, he puts his hand on my lower back and pulls me against him. 

"Hey...don't worry about Stark, he'll understand" Bucky reassures me. 

"Yeah..right I'll go find him" I say, moving away from Bucky, I could tell him and Steve probably needed a chat, I left the kitchen and walked through the compound knowing I'd probably find Tony in the lab, I walked in seeing him and Bruce, I smiled hopping onto one of the stools they had in the room. 

"Hi boys" I grin sweetly. They both glanced up from their tablets, smiling when they saw me. Tony walked to me, leaning on the desk in front of me. 

"Well, well, look who it is" Tony smirked "Long time no see, what brings you to the lab?" 

"I have something to tell you Tony...though Bruce you can know too" I say nervously. Tony raises an eyebrow, a look of intrigue on his face. 

"Okay, I'm all ears kiddo" 

I watch Bruce put his tools now, he walks to stand next to Tony, a worried look over his face, he could sense my nerves. 

"I'm pregnant" 

There's a beat of silence as Tony and Bruce process my words. Tony's eyes widen, his mouth falling open slightly. Bruce looked shocked as well, his eyebrows raised in surprise. Tony was the first to speak, his voice filled with a mix of surprise and curiosity. 

"You're...you're pregnant. As in...having a baby...pregnant?" He asks. I chuckle slightly. 

"Correct, that is what pregnant means" I answer, my sarcasm laced through my voice, the others would always tell me off for my British sarcasm, I couldn't help it however. I watched as Tony rolled his eyes, and Bruce scratched his chin. 

"When you say you're pregnant, how far along are you? And..do we know the father?" Bruce asked. 

"Uhh like 9 weeks" I say "And...yeah you... do know the father" 

Tony's eyebrows shoot to the sky. He glances to Bruce and then back to me. 

"I'm guessing it's not some random stranger...right? The father?" Tony asks. 

"No..it's uhh...it's Bucky" I admit. The look of shock over their faces made me chuckle slightly. I almost regret keeping what Bucky and I had a secret, I had a lot of shocked looks coming in my future. Both men looked at me in utter shock, like they couldn't believe me. 

"Wait..Bucky?! Bucky is the father? Barnes? That Barnes?!" Tony rambled. 

"The very one"

Tony and Bruce exchanged another glance, both still in disbelief. Tony was the first to find his voice again, his mouth opening and closing a few times before he finally speaks. 

"When...when did this happen? I thought you two couldn't stand each other" 

"We've been sleeping together, for a few months...secretly" I explain, my cheeks flushing red. 

"Months!" Tony near yells "You've been sleeping together for months? And now you're pregnant?" 

"Basically yes" I say, smiling. It still felt weird hearing the word pregnant. 

"I've gotta say, I was not expecting that, you really know how to shock us, don't ya?" Bruce chuckles. 

"Yeah...sorry about that" I say quietly. 

"Well congratulations" Bruce smiles at me, as he takes his glasses off, cleaning them. 

"Yeah congratulations, who woulda thought, you and Bucky, together, with a baby" Tony says, his voice still dripping with disbelief. 

"Yeah...thanks guys" I say smiling "Sorry about the whole not being an Avenger for a little while" I add with a sad smile, I loved going on missions. 

"Don't worry kiddo, you have to look after yourself first" Tony grins. 

I smile and hop off the stool, ready to go back to Bucky. 

"Thanks men" I say as I turn around to leave.

Chapter Two - Chapter Four

(I do not consent my works to be posted anywhere else, by anyone other than myself)

Taglist:

@quinquinquincy @jaybbygrl @wintrsoldrluvr @sebastians-love @learisa @hi172826 @ravennablue @purplecolordeer

[blastzachilles]

— One of Your Girls .ᐟ

CHARACTERS: MRTA + 2019!ARTRICK WORD COUNT: 1.8k CW: mentions of blood, guns, knives

a/n: baby's first fanfic!! i love these two so much, they've infected my brain an unhealthy amount. this is loosely related to troye sivan's 'one of your girls' which i compared in this post to being art's perspective talking about patrick, and wanted to write more about it. i also actively consulted the script so the sauna dialogue is directly ripped from that LMFAO. i hope you enjoy, and any comments or feedback is greatly appreciated!! <3 big thank you to my lovely beta readers!

— Patrick saw the way Art looked at him when he walked in. 

His gaze a little lower than it should have been for the respectable tennis player, for the man married to the woman who was once the Duncanator. 

“When we were teenagers.” Art says. No. Not says, stings, like frostbite, his voice cold and unwavering. No wonder he was Ice.

The sharpness of his words are a bullet through Patrick, dangerously inching closer to his heart every time.

“Right. When we were teenagers.” Patrick gets up this time, but he’s still bleeding out. A few more shots and he’ll be a goner. 

He just wants Art to see him. Patrick thinks he never has. 

How wrong he was. 

Before they were teenagers both obsessed with the goddess who fell from grace, they were boys. 

Boys who did everything together. Who laughed, cried (no matter how many times they denied it), and most importantly, loved together. 

And boy, did Art love Patrick. 

Patrick, who comforted Art when they were twelve, when Art was just learning how to live by himself. Patrick, who went out at absurd hours of the night with Art, just because he wanted a walk. Patrick, who stayed up with Art hours before an exam, not caring about the material, but knowing Art needed it. 

Patrick, who made Art feel like he was the most important person in the world. 

Patrick taught him everything, how to jerk off, how to talk to girls, how to be Art. It was all Patrick.

But nothing can stay in bloom forever, and they transitioned from boys to teenagers. 

Art watched Patrick grow, as his face matured, as it grew sharper, as he started twisting his face into that one smirk Patrick knew would get into any girl’s pants. The one that made you feel like you were everything.

He knew because Patrick tested it on him first. Art still remembers it clear as day.

In their dorm, sixteen years old, Fire and Ice had decided they were going to their first party. 

“Hey, Art.” 

“Yeah?” Art was tired. It was past midnight, and he knew he was going to be up late the next day. He just wanted to sleep. 

But Patrick’s next words had him more awake than drinking any amount of pure caffeine. 

“I think I’m gonna try to get some tonight.” Patrick says, and Art doesn’t even have to roll over to see the smug grin on Patrick’s face as he stares at the ceiling. 

“Okay?”

“Wanna help me try some things out?” 

Art didn’t know how he could help, all he knew was that he wanted to. So against his better judgement, he rolled over in his twin bed, sitting up and throwing his legs over the edge.

“Sure.” 

Art remembers the research that ensued, the work done to help Patrick finally get lucky, their faces when they found out sometimes all you needed was a simple expression. The way Patrick’s face contorted, twisted, in a form of gymnastics, before making a perfect landing.

Art’s face had never felt so hot, and he swore he was going to end up in cardiac arrest the way his heart skipped. 

“That one.” Too loud. Too fast. 

He says it again.

“That one.” This time it’s too small. Too confused. Too emotional.

Patrick doesn’t press. He knows better than that. He just grins like he’s won the lottery, eyes crinkling. “Thanks, man. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” 

And Art swears he’s in a dream, knowing his best friend thinks of him like that. Even if Patrick doesn’t mean it, which Art knows he does, all that matters is that his god, his guide, his everything has just told him that he matters, that Art’s an integral part of his life. He’ll do anything to stay that way. 

But Patrick keeps moving, growing, getting more experienced, and no matter how much he begs Art to finally get his dick wet, he never goes further than handjobs.

And always in the dark.

So he can imagine it’s Patrick’s hand wrapped around him instead, so long as he shuts his eyes tight enough. 

He wishes Patrick would see him. That Patrick would see he’d do anything for him. That Patrick would see he’d be anyone, absolutely anyone. Hell, he’d even be just like one of those girls, just to get a glimpse of Patrick, just to be his first place. 

The way he still would, even now, 31 and playing at Phil’s Tire Town Challenger, in a sauna with his ex-best friend, married to Tashi Donaldson.  

But Patrick doesn’t know. He never has, and he never will. Art will take this with him to his grave. 

There’s static in Patrick’s brain as he looks at his ex-best friend, ex-teammate, ex-everything. Begging him silently to say something, because if he opens his mouth, he doesn’t know what will come out.

“You’re right. I do find it disturbing.” Another bullet, but it’s easy to deflect this one.

“Well, there’s no need, man. Lots of girls were into me. None of them wanted to marry me. That’s not what I was for.” Patrick thinks this is the safe route. That Art can’t hurt him with this response.

He was dead wrong.

“Then what were you for?” 

Patrick begs that the gasp of air that left him is only in his head as he tries to cover it up with a smile. Art’s lack of acknowledgement says it was, but Patrick can’t tell if he’d say something either way. He doesn’t know Art anymore. Somehow, that thought sends another bullet through him, grazing his heart. 

A small scoff to hide his blood on the floor that he’s just begging Art to notice, and Patrick continues.

“Honestly, I thought you’d be happy that I was in the draw. You’ve always wanted to beat me at a tournament, haven’t you? Especially a few weeks before the Open. It’s the perfect confidence booster.” Patrick begs to be noticed, to be acknowledged, but Art gives him nothing. Like he can’t see that Patrick is bleeding out, spilling all over the floor, just for him. 

“I know what you’re trying to do right now–”

“I’m not trying to do anything. This is a challenger. I don’t have to play mind games with you.” 

“Right. You don’t give a shit.” 

It seems Art doesn’t know Patrick either anymore, seeing as he believes Patrick doesn’t give a shit about him.

Patrick’s mind shifts in and out of static, losing oxygen as the bullet grazes his heart now. He’s set on the path of certain death, but it’s just what he’d do for Art.

Even if Art isn’t willing to see it, his mind clouded by something Patrick can’t quite tell anymore. 

“...the more I realize it’s about what didn’t happen. You didn’t grow up. You still think you can talk to me like I’m your peer because we came from the same place.” 

Patrick is internally begging Art not to continue. He won’t make it if he does. 

“But it doesn’t matter where you come from in tennis, Patrick. It only matters if you win. And I do. A lot.” 

The bullet’s a little deeper now. Threatening to finish him off. 

“You’ve never beaten me.” Patrick smiles his lopsided smile, the one he puts on when he can’t let Art tell how he feels. Patrick thinks he’s used it more in the past five minutes than in the whole seven years he had with Art. 

“So what? I’ve never beaten most of the guys who play these things. This is a game about winning the points that matter.” 

Patrick’s gasping for air, begging himself not to ask the question that follows.

“I don’t matter?” He asks. 

His voice is too small. Like Art’s that one night, all those years ago. The one he ignored because he knew Art wouldn’t talk about it.

“Not even to the most obsessive tennis fan in the world.” 

Art gets bored of toying with him, not quite hitting the mark. So the bullet gets replaced with a dagger. Just the tip, slowly digging into his heart. 

“We’re not talking about tennis, Art.” 

“Then what the fuck else do you and I have to talk about?” 

Patrick’s sure that gasp was audible now. But still nothing from Art. He wonders if he’s really the same boy he met at twelve. The one who flipped his world on its axis.

“I just wanted to come in here to wish you luck.” Patrick’s voice still feels small, but a little throaty, like he’s trying his best to put on that mask of grandiosity and loudness he hid behind at school.

“That makes no sense.” 

A few centimetres deeper, agonizing, slow, every word being felt. This is personal, leaving Patrick feeling as though if he looked up to see who’s wielding the dagger, it would be Art himself. 

He can’t say he’s surprised.

When Patrick speaks next, his voice is shaky, and he doesn’t think he can say anything else without crying. He hates crying. 

“I wanted to tell you that I’m looking forward to it. I miss playing with you, Art.” Patrick tacks Art’s name on at the end, something to ground them, to make it more personal again. 

To give it truth. Because Patrick means every word.

“Oh, yeah?” Art asks, his voice a boa constrictor that wraps itself around Patrick’s throat. 

Art doesn’t believe him. Doesn’t think he can. 

He doesn’t want to. It would give him hope.

So when Patrick nods, Art prepares. He readies himself, gripping the dagger hard, staring deep into Patrick’s eyes.

Patrick’s afraid Art will see everything that’s hidden beneath them, that he’ll figure everything out without even saying anything. 

But instead, it’s a stare that comes as the dagger is completely shoved through his heart.

“I don’t miss playing with you. I’m too old for it.” 

It stings. It more than stings. It’s final. 

And with that, Art walks out of the sauna, slamming the door behind him.

Leaving Patrick bleeding out alone, a gaping hole through his heart, inflicted by the one person who gave him heart. 

And Patrick just sits there. And he thinks. He thinks about what he would give to go back to being teenagers again. To being boys.

He thinks about what he’d do to feel like he was Art’s again. 

Before all of Art’s fame, before he became the face of men’s tennis. Before all of Art’s brand deals and galas and partnerships. Before his face was an icon synonymous with the pro tennis circuit. 

He’d do just about anything. He’d keep it secret, make sure nothing ever got out. Anything, to get back to when they were teenagers. 

To when he wasn’t Art Donaldson, but just Art. 

To when Art was Patrick’s, even if he never did anything about it. 

Oh, what he’d give to be one of his girls. 

[g1kermey-blog]

When The Morning Comes I Hope You’re Still Mine

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ After walking in the pouring rain a strange guy asks if you need a ride you decided to take the risk and things start to take a turn…

| warning: A little 18+, Flirting

| a/n: Hiii I hope you guys like this fanfic me and my bsf have been working on it and we decided to post it go follow @lwvrane1 !! Enjoy!! And in this fic Hamzah acts pretty cocky so yeah. ( Also posting another fic that @arielsplanet help me write soon so be ready…)

You’re walking in the rain.

Shoes drenched with water, clothes soaked and makeup melted. You wipe the rainwater from your face and keep walking through the flooded water on your street.

“Aye, you need a ride?”

You hear faintly behind you, you turn around in confusion

“Uh-“ you say squinting your eyes past the pouring rain “What did you say?”

You see a silver car slowing driving up on the side of you, you wait for it to pull up and come to a stop

“I said do you need a ride?” you see a man who looks quite familiar leaning over and looking at you through the passenger seat window.

“Oh, yeah!” You slightly regret saying yes to getting into a stranger's car but you take the chance, besides it is pouring rain

You get into the car and squish down onto the seat “Sorry my clothes are soaked…” you mutter and look at the guy he looks so familiar like you’ve seen him somewhere before.

“It’s fine a little water ain’t hurt nobody.” He responds quickly looking you up and down then driving off

“Quick question though,” he says taking his eyes off the road to check you out again “Are you a YouTuber or something? You look familiar to me.” He says looking back at the road

“yes I am,” you respond as you give a slight smile and fix your dripping shirt

“ you look familiar as well, are you perhaps a YouTuber or TikToker?”

He smirks and gives a sly look “Yes I am actually, I have a YouTube channel with my best friend.”

That’s where you knew him from he was a part of the YouTube channel Slushy Noobz, “Omg really? I knew it but wasn’t sure.” You say as you giggle slightly

“So where do you want me to drop you off? Can’t just keep a strange YouTuber in my car.” He mutters and looks at his rearview mirror

“Oh yeah sorry” you scrunch your face in embarrassment “I think we passed my house sadly… may have to do a quick u-turn” you respond moving your finger in a circle and slapping it back down on your damp leg

He glances at you once again “Damn you really are wet.” Then quickly looks back at the road.

“Haha, what?” You say frowning your eyebrows while giving a smile, he shakes his head slightly

“obviously didn’t mean it like that.”

He mutters “The streets are super flooded, if you don’t mind I can take you to my place?” He suggests rubbing the back of his neck while one hand remains on the steering wheel

“Uh.” You stay quiet for a split second contemplating whether should you go home with a random influencer who picked you up off the side of the road…

“Sure!” You respond scrunching your face in embarrassment once again, you can’t believe you said sure but hey you’ll leave his place once the rain stops.

He pulls into his driveway and then puts it in park “Okay we’re here.” He says as he gets out his driver-side rain instantly hitting him

You get out the passenger side and follow him to the front door, he pulls his keys out of his front pocket and unlocks the door he holds it open for you to walk inside first

“Thank you,” you say crossing your arms and standing in the middle of the kitchen

“don’t mind my place it’s a little dirty I’ll clean just for you though,” he says as he closes the front door walking up behind you “A pretty girl like you shouldn’t be in a dirty house like this” as he smirks looking down at you.

You turn around and look up at him, you take a step back so he isn’t so awkwardly close to you, and he ends up waking passed you to start tidying up the kitchen and taking his blanket off the couch

You lean on the counter just observing him as he does all those things.

“ Okay uh, you obviously can’t walk around here in wet clothes,” he says walking toward you while he rubs the back of his head “I have some clothes in my bedroom, follow me.” He starts to walk out of the kitchen and you follow right behind

You two walk into his room “Here’s my closet you can pick out a shirt and some pants or whatever.” He leans his shoulder on the wall beside the closet doors

“Okay haha thank you.” You mutter as you pick out a shirt, some shorts, and a white robe Hamzah walks out as you grab the robe leaving you to have some privacy.

You change into his clothes and suddenly you’re feeling quite thirsty you walk into his kitchen and you see him standing at the sink washing a few dishes

“Oh sorry, I was feeling a little thirsty…” you say nervously fiddling with your fingers, Hamzah turns his head back towards you soon after turning his whole body towards you

“Not you having my robe on.” He snickers “You made yourself at home I see.”

“Oh yeah sorry, I did leave my shoes in your bathroom so they could dry I left them by the tub…” you respond as you look away from his gaze

“That’s fine, by the way, what’s your name never really got it?” He says raising one eyebrow

“It’s y/n” you giggle a bit and look back up a Hamzah “Good I look forward to screaming your pretty name.” He says with a smile.

“I’m not that easy,” you say getting ready to walk back out of the kitchen, Hamzah stops you by grabbing your arm as you turn around

“ Not that easy you say? You were easy enough to get in a stranger's car.” He says lowering the tone of his voice, you stand in shock for a minute

“I don’t know what you’re trying to do but it isn’t gonna work with me.” You respond as you yank your arm away from his grip, Hamzah steps closer to you and is now hovering over you

“Oh everything works with you, I could have been a murder and you still let me take you to my place didn’t you?” Be says as he crosses his arms

“And did you not bring a phone with you? You really must have wanted something to happen to you.” You raise one eyebrow at a loss for words cause everything he is saying to you is somewhat true.

“Whatever.” You mutter as you turn around and try to make your way to the living room, you untie your robe and take it off as you walk

You sit down on his couch and place the robe beside you then see Hamzah walk into the living room as well

“So you were just gonna sit here in silence then?” He says leaning his head down to look at you

“No? I just don’t know what to say about the stuff you pulled in the kitchen.” You say rolling your eyes and looking away from him

“I’ve seen your videos you know…” he says leaning back on the couch

“Then why did you ask my name, Just wanted to be cheeky huh?” You respond now looking at him

“Maybe…” he says dragging out the last letter, you start feeling tired you let out a wide yawn and put your face in your hands.

“Someone’s feeling tired I see?” Hamzahs says lifting himself back up and leaning a bit close to your face “It’s only 5:30 though?” He questions

“ I know I just sleep a lot, when you found me walking out there I was heading home to go to sleep and I left my phone…” you say in an embarrassed voice

“Nothing to be embarrassed about y/n, you can sleep out here if you want. Hell, how about we both take a quick nap till the rain stops” he says as he stands up “Then I can take you home when we wake up.”

“ I’m not sure, don’t just want to go to sleep at a random house.” You say giving a sly look

“I’m not random y/n we practically know each other, matter of fact what’s my name?”

You look up at him eyes hanging low from you being exhausted

“Hamzah?” “ Hamzahthefantasic!” You say giggling hysterically, no sleep was getting to you and after all that rain, you’re ready to knock out.

“What’s wrong with you?” Hamzah questions while giving a nervous look

“Nothing just… a little-“ you yawn as you try to finish your sentence “sleepy.”

“okay here lay back on the couch I’ll bring you a blanket or something okay?”

“Okay.”

Hamzah walks to his room, grabs a blanket then walks it over to you

“Here y/n.” He says as he lays the blanket on you “Okay good resting I guess.”

You immediately fall asleep you sleep for about an hour at Hamzah's place then randomly wake yourself up, you rub your eyes, lift yourself, and look around slightly forgetting where you were.

Hamzah comes walking out of his bedroom and mutters “ Hmm you’re awake y/n.” He sits next to you on the couch “How’d you sleep?”

“Well, I’m really thirsty though…” you say as you clear your throat

“Mmm, little sleepyhead is thirsty isn’t she?” He says in a mocking voice

“yes, I am.” You say shyly “Also, what did you mean earlier when you said you would be ‘screaming’ my name?” You question Hamzah

“I was just teasing…unless you wanted it to mean something?” He says hinting at something

“hmm no…” you say as you look at him eyes still low from sleep

You reach your hand out to touch hamzahs hair letting curiosity get the best of you

“Mmm your hair is so nice, why’d you cut it that one time I saw that stream?” You question as you graze your hand down the side of hamzahs face

“Because the boxing match, and why are you touching me like this?” He raises one eyebrow in confusion

“ Sorry just letting the curiosity get to me …” you also notice his arms they’re nice and strong

“I’m up here y/n” he chuckles if you want to see more then just say so love, I don’t mind giving it to you”

You look at him but no words seem to be coming out, You look at his warm body again you say to yourself “Ugh I can’t do this”

“Cat got your tongue?” He says to you as you look away ashamed, you're giving into him, what you wanted to refrain from doing, He lifts your chin to the perfect angle to make contact “Look at me y/n you know I like eye contact.”

“Ugh, stop what are you doing.” You say rolling your eyes and trying to look away from him

“Come on y/n don’t start something you can’t finish mama”

“Stop calling me that.” You say getting ready to lift yourself off the couch but Hamzah stops you

“ Oh you’re not leaving, not yet…” he gently grabs your shoulder, then leans over to kiss you “damn Mama you taste so good”

You freeze then lick your lips you are in shock did he just kiss you?

“ Uh, I think the rain stopped now,” you say nervously “ I should get going

“Not until I’m done with you.” He says while getting on top of you making you lean back on the couch

“Should I be doing this”? You say in your head but you can’t find yourself to resist him, you always had a slight crush on Hamzah, you would see edits and clips on him tiktok but never really convinced yourself you liked him.

He takes his shirt off and begins kissing you “Is this alright mama? “

“Yes,” you say softly “I want you to do whatever you want to me, “you say nervously

“Hmm, I’ve even waiting for you to say that.” He leans down and the two of you start kissing sloppily, in this moment you think to yourself that he must have wanted this ever since you got in his car.

[willowswiththorns]

Hello! Can you make Yandere Ian McKinley x unwilling bestfriend reader?

Hello! And yes I can! I haven’t seen much Ian McKinley fanfics lately, so I’m happy to write one! I will say it’s been a while since I’ve seen the movie, so if I mess up a few points in his character I apologize in advance! Also I’m not entirely sure what the unwilling part is, but I might have an idea. If I get it wrong too I’m sorry 😩 -Willow

Warnings / yandere themes, death, depictions of death, mentions of vomiting, unwilling reader, my horrible writing on the spot, proceed at your own caution.

Ian had texted you half an hour ago, mentioning how him and Erin would be getting off in twenty minutes. You knew the whole routine, he’d text you when they’re off, you’d be free and go over, all three of you would hang out until Erin wanted to go home, you’d drop Erin off and hang with Ian until one of you were tired. A typical Tuesday activity. The only thing unusual about today was the fact you waited for them to come out, but they never did.

Stepping into the hardware store, you felt a small pit in your stomach. The place itself was dark, but that was probably due to Ian and Erin closing up. It was the sound of sobs in the distance that made you uneasy. The closer you got, the more the gory details came into view. The sawdust and boards of wood scattered all over the floor where the four other people stood. Ian’s sobs rang loudly in your ears as he was holding the body of his now deceased girlfriend. Twelve big nails pieced through her head and hand, blood running down every new hole in her face. She must’ve passed almost instantly, but the sight alone was enough to make you gag. Wendy turned to face you, she was standing by Kevin, her face pale as she looked almost as shocked as you. “ Y/n? What’re you doing here?” Kevin called out, his voice shaky after he followed Wendy’s gaze, probably to avoid the gory scene in front of him.

The urge to vomit came up again, unable to answer as your eyes were glued onto Erin’s once beautiful face now mutilated into a disfigured mess. Trying to cover your mouth and nose wouldn’t stop the smell of the blood, a soft wail leaves your lips as you turn away to try and not look.

“ Y/n, if you need to step outside you can- “ Wendy said softly , walking toward you as a way of trying to comfort. “ but before you do, you need to know that you might be in danger” she continued softly.

The feeling of her hand touching your shoulder almost made you jump. She was trying to guide you away from the deadly situation. Another son ripped from you as you tried to look over your shoulder, seeing a glimpse of Ian getting up and noticing you being walked off by Wendy. Wendy pulled your attention back ,” Kevin and I tried to warn them- but it was too late. Y/n you might be able to help us.” She started, holding your shoulder as she grabbed her phone from her jacket pocket. “ Remember that night when I kept saying that everyone needed to get off the ride?” She asked softly.

You pondered back to that time. You were third wheeling with Erin and Ian, following them around when Ian mentions the rollercoaster. They seemed very excited to get on the death trap, but a part of you felt a little nervous. You couldn’t pin point it, but you felt uneasy at the idea of going on it. As you, Erin, and Ian waited in line, that nervousness grew. It wasn’t until Erin and Ian got on the ride where you stopped and told they were at full capacity. Both of them seemed bummed you weren’t going, Ian more so, but you couldn’t help but feel relief? Before the ride could even start, Wendy was freaking out and screaming to get off the ride, in return started a whole fight.

With a slight nod, you do your best to wipe the memory from your mind. Ian was a bit needy after the brawl he had, you had to clean up any small cuts he might’ve gotten from the other boys fighting. “ Yeah, I remember. What’s that have to do with Erin?” You asked, your voice a little shaky as you watched Wendy dial the police.

Her gaze lingered towards you for a moment ,” I had a vision of my death, mine and several others. “ her tone was low and stern, not wanting to show any signs of making some kind of sick joke.

“ What?- “ was all you were able to ask before you and Wendy heard yelling and rushed footsteps coming your way.

The feeling of a calloused hand touching the upper part of your back almost made you scream. You felt that hand grip your shirt and drag you back. Unable to maintain your balance, you accidentally stumbled onto the grabber. “ Stay away from her, Wendy. Stay the fuck away!” The familiar voice yelled out, his voice cracking as he has a good hold on you.

Kevin followed soon after, getting in between Ian and Wendy. Turning your head, you make eye contact with your best friend. His eyes were red and to the brim with tears. Wendy called out ,” Ian what happened to Erin wasn’t o-“

Ian’s grip tightened more as he held you close to his side. “ It is your fucking fault- she would be alive right now if it wasn’t for you! “ his voice was more shaky. Your hand reflexively touched his torso onto to quickly move your hand back. A Warm, sticky substance smeared all over his shirt and now your hand as you tried your best to wipe off your dead friend’s blood. “ Just fuck off- come on y/n” he yelled out one more time to Wendy and Kevin before dragging you off to the exit.

As you and Ian got more to the light, the more his clothes came into view. The dark red was smeared and spread all over his shirt and upper pants. His hands were also covered in blood as he forced the door open. “ Ian-“ you called out softly, trying to get out of his grip as he dragged you outside.

He didn’t acknowledge you for a good bit, unlocking his van before pushing you into the back. “ Ian!” You call out again, your voice louder as he muttered to himself.

His breath was shaky as he finally looked down at you. He was doing his best not to cry, and you felt yourself slowly not tensing up anymore. “ Ian I’m so sorry. What you must’ve saw in there, with Erin-“ you were cut off by Ian wrapping his arms around you, burying his face into your hair. He seemed to still be shaken up over Erin.

“ It’s their fault, they caused her death.” He choked out, keeping a firm hold on you as he continued,” I don’t want you near them.”

You felt your face heat up at that order, sure he lost Erin, but that wasn’t Wendy’s fault. It was a freak accident, and it’s not fair to punish Wendy or you by forcing either of you not to talk to each other. “ Ian, I can’t do that. Wendy is my friend too-“

Ian pulled his head out of your hair, his eyes holding a cold stare as he forced you to keep eye contact. His bloody hand touching your cheek, his thumb caressing your wet cheek despite the disgust on your face. The smell of blood so close to your face reeked. “ I can’t lose you too. Promise me you won’t talk to her. “ Ian’s voice was cold and firm.

You felt your stomach twist slightly at the sight of how scary he looked at you. “ Ian-“ You protested softly, trying to not be too harsh since he just lost his girlfriend.

Ian put his forehead to yours, still caressing your cheek with his red thumb. “ If you died I wouldn’t know what to do with myself. Please… just please don’t leave my side right now. Erin was not even a foot away when she died. The nails went through her so quickly, I couldn’t even-“ he sucked in his breath as he tried his hardest not to gag at the thought. “ Just promise me you won’t talk to them. I’ve been your friend for years, you and Wendy aren’t as close as we are.” He whispered softly in your ear.

A small tear rolled down your cheek as he kept rambling how evil they were, how Erin was killed by their hands, how he’d protect you no matter what. He kept his hold firm on you as he pressed his face more towards you, his nose brushing yours now.

Shaking your head slightly, you gently tried to scoot away to make distance, however it was short lived as he scooted towards you. “ Ian, please.” You’d whisper, fat tears rolling down your bloody cheek as you looked at his already up close face .

His face grew closer as he kept muttering softly, his lips brushing yours slightly. “ It’s their fault. I lost Erin, I’m not losing you. You were both mine. My girls. I’m not losing you too” his tone was low, probably lost in his own head as his lips grazed yours as he spoke.

A pit grew in your stomach as you put a hand to his chest, not knowing how to calm Ian down. You didn’t want Ian to be like this. “ Ian, I’m not yours, we’re just friends-“

Cracked lips leave a small peck on your lips as he got even closer. “ You are mine. Even before all of this, you were always by my side” his voice was raspy and his breath smelled of cigarettes and mint. He gave another kiss as he pulled you in.

A small whine leaves your lips as he drags you closer to him, his hand sliding up your shirt ever so slightly. “ Ian, you have a girlfriend!” You cried out, glaring him down as he finally looks into your eyes.

Ian rolled his eyes after a moment of you both staring each other down. “ Even when Erin was alive, she knew what I felt about you. She didn’t care as long as I loved her too. And I do, really. She even helped me with getting you to hang out with us. She wouldn’t care if I kept having you by my side even when she’s gone..” Ian confessed, his hand slowly going up your shirt. His wet, sticky hand felt warm against your cool skin.

The confession alone almost made you throw up. Before you could even speak, his lips crashed into yours. He used his free hand that wasn’t under the back of your shirt to hold down the back of your neck, mostly to keep you in place as he deepened the kiss.

In the end it didn’t matter if you wanted him or not, he wasn’t losing you like he lost Erin. You were his until death was coming to collect him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Thank you for reading! I really tried my best, I wrote this all in one sitting within an hour. So I’m sure there’s probably a lot of grammar/spelling mistakes. I hope you enjoyed!

[horangipower17]

THEN BURN ME

pairing: bf! Hoshi x f! reader

genre: smut (MDNI), oral (f! receiving), light angst (previous conflict getting resolved by him eating you out), shirtless Hoshi, dom! Hoshi, jealousy

note: I have a bit of experience about writing fanfics, but this is my first time writing something like this, so I hope it won’t be a total failure, if you have any recommendations on how I could improve, I will gladly accept it! :)

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were thinking about your stupid fight with Hoshi that happened about a week ago.

All it was about was just how you and your ex accidentally ran into eachother at the same cafe. It wasn’t accidental to Hoshi. He thought, you had planned it behind his back.

You were in your own world, thinking about that fight, when you heard the front slam hard. You could hear very loud footsteps going up the stairs. It was Hoshi. Before you could even react, he slammed the door to your office open and stormed in.

“What’s this?!” he pushed his phone into your face, stopping millimeters from it as he showed you a photo of you, kissing your ex on the front hood of his car.

“Hoshi, that’s an old photo-“

He cut you off before you could even finish your sentence. “As if I care! You’re only allowed to kiss me like that!”

Then, he crashed his lips in a wet, demanding kiss. He let out a low, throaty groan into your mouth as he bit down on your bottom lip. You gasped as he did that? and he took the opportunity to slide his tongue into your mouth. As he did so, you whined into the kiss and he picked you up from your chair by your thighs, wrapping them around his waist and your arms around his neck.

Hoshi moved over to the couch in the middle of your home office and laid you down, before slowly climbing onto the couch too and hovering his body above yours. He grabbed your wrists in a quick motion and pinned them above yours head as he leaned closer and whispered into your ear in a low, deep, needy voice.

“You’re mine and only mine, and I’m going to make you remember it…”

He bit down on your eat gently before slowly shifting his mouth to your jaw, leaving soft, wet kisses on there, before actually moving down to your neck.

He started by kissing your neck slowly and that quickly became into bruising kisses. He also started to suck and bite on your neck, leaving purple spots and teeth marks on your neck.

“H-Hoshi…” you could barely remember anything, but his name. Your chest rised up and down as you breathed heavily while looking at him with half open eyes.

“Yeah?..” he said while not stopping once. He looked up at you through his lashes and his fingers moved to the buttons of your dress shirt while still torturing your neck.

As he looked at you like that, you couldn’t help but moan quite loudly, earning yourself a chuckle from him.

“Do you know how sexy you sound right now?” he torn your shirt away from your body as he unbuttoned it. “Arching your back, squirming and moaning… Just because of a few kisses…” he whispered sensually, dragging his hands down the curves of your body, goosebumps appearing on your body as you bit down your lip to not let out the whimper your were holding back.

“Don’t hold back. I want to hear you...”

You felt your lace bra being unclasped and saw him throw it on the floor. He pulled back a little from your body to admire the view of your upper body completely exposed to him.

“God… If you only knew how sexy you look like right now…” and then his mouth landed right on one of your breasts, sucking, kissing and leaving his marks on you as he kneaded the other one with his hand.

Just that action pulled out another moan out of you as your hands moved down to tangle into his hair, tugging on it hard, earning another deep, low, throaty groan from him. He switched his mouth from one breast to the other, earning a needy whine from you. “God, Hoshi… Keep doing that…”

“Yeah? You want me to keep going?”

“Is it not visible already?”

“Oh very visible indeed..”

His mouth released your breast with a wet pop as he pulled away to take off his shirt. And as soon as it was off, you dragged your hands down his chest to his abs before you finally put your hands on his shoulders and gripped on them for life as you sat up on his lap, feeling the already hard bulge straining against his pants, before smashing your lips on his and diving into his mouth with your tongue.

He was a bit surprised by your actions, he didn’t expect you to take control like this, but he was more than happy to let you do it. He returned your kiss with equal passion, his hands moving to your hips, gripping them tightly and urging you to move against him. He could feel the heat building between you, the desire growing stronger with every passing moment.

You moaned into the kiss and started to grind on his lap even harder, making him groan and moan.

“Princess, you’re going to be the death of me one day…”

You chuckled softly. “Mmm, really?”

“Really…”

“And how big of a problem would that be for me?”

“Princess… You’re playing with fire…”

You leaned closer to his ear, hands moving from his shoulders to the nape of his neck as you whispered into his ear. “Then burn me..”

And when those exact words left your mouth, he wasted no time smashing his lips against yours, picking you up and walking to your shared bedroom. As he entered in, he threw you down on the bed before locking the door and taking his pants off along with his underwear, his semi-hard cock springing free, leaking with precum.

“You’re gonna regret saying those words..”

He said before climbing over to you on the bed, hovering over your own body, before looking you up and down.

“These are going to have to go.”

He nudged his chin, aiming on your pants, before his hands moved to unbutton them. He pulled them down along with your lace underwear, earning himself another one of your moans.

He lowered his mouth down to your pussy, before his eyes flickered up to meet yours, as if asking ‘Can I?’

You nodded and response and before you could even say anything, his mouth was already on you, licking and sucking on your dripping pussy.

“Ah- Nnghn.. Hoshi…”

Your moans turned him on even more, he started to lick you faster, delving his tongue into you. You whined and your hands flew to his hair, gripping it and pushing his head even deeper into your pussy.

You felt your orgasm getting closer, so you gripped his hair even harder. “Hoshi, I’m gonna-“

You couldn’t even finish your sentence before he licked your pussy even faster. “Go on.. Mark my face with your cum..”

And as soon as those words left his mouth, you were cumming on his face. As your walls clenched, you felt your cum squirting out of you on his tongue and face as he cleaned you up with his tongue.

Then he brought his mouth up to yours again and kissed you. You tasted yourself on his tongue, his face glistening with your juices.

His mouth moved against yours, hungry and urgent. Your skin tingled and burned wherever he touched you, his hands gliding over every part of you. You could barely catch your breath between kisses, your head spinning.

When he finally pulled away from the kiss, he leaned his forehead against yours and whispered to you.

“You’re mine and only mine… Don’t ever think about going back to your ex, it like you would anyway with the way I treat you, touch you, make you feel…”

[ioniansunsets]

I JUST FOUND YOUR BLOG AND OMG

hey imma need that confession Heartsteel Kayn moment yannoooo… fr all I’ve been thinking about 😳😳😳

✖ Heartsteel!Kayn Confessing ✖

✖ Word Count: 1.2k

✖ Tags: Awkward Confessions

✖ A/N: Reader here is just someone who works at his studio! He met you as Heartsteel slowly begun to start out and get ready for debut. Also writing this with that one ask about him writing a song about this exact moment in mind. Heehee!

I was reading some fanfics on my side and got filled with so much adrenaline and emotions I spat this out. I got very very very carried away writing this. I hope its not too OOC. Thank you for asking for this, I couldn't stop thinking about writing it.

----

It sucked. It fucking sucked. The way his heart raced when you were near.

The loud thumping against his chest. He hated it.

He hated how vulnerably and un-badass it made him feel. How the high he got from you rivaled that of the stage.

How your voice played over and over in his mind more than any melody he knew. How your laughter made his knees weak. It made Him. Weak!

He hated. He loathed. He grunts in frustration as he rocks out hard on his guitar. Fingers picking at the strings, a sick solo riff but it was for no one but himself.

Oh, how he did arguably stupider things than usual when he saw you watching. Showing off to you he jumped off a stage once. Which is not too far off from usual but it was to no audience! It was during a practice run! He did it just to flex to you that he was cool! Fucking embarrassing to remember but he did! All because you were standing nearby! How could you do such a thing to him!

The absolute frustration he was filled with. Not pent up rage, not a craving for violence and destruction, but affection? Undeniable. Overflowing. Drowning and choking him. Affection!

He finally threw his guitar on the ground. Breathing heavy. Hands running through his hair to push away the hair that has fell to his face in his little jam session. Hands wiping away the sweat. No matter how long he played, how fast his fingers pressed the strings, how frantically he strummed away. How he still played, chipping his painted nails when he slips up and drops his pick. The loud music of his electric guitar couldn't drown out the high BPM beat of his heart going off in his ears. The mental image of you smiling and waving at him every time he shows up. The tingle in his fingertips imagining himself holding you.

Swallowing hard, he storms out of the studio. He was at his fucking limit and refused to deal with this flip flop of emotions any longer. A cold shower. He calms down. Tomorrow. At the studio when he goes in to record. He'll find you then. He'll go early before the rest of the band gets there. He'll get this done and over with. Enough hours were spent being a mess about you. He was going to get this done! Tossing and turning in bed for hours he finally falls asleep. Tomorrow, he'll confess.

xxxx

The next day came soon enough. Making sure he looked good, makeup on, hair styled nicely, a sexy ass outfit with his deliciously sculpted abs out. Not the usual for when he goes to the studio but if he was going to be confessing? Perfect. Yes he was perfect in his own eyes but still, his heart raced. Small whispers of Rhaast in his mind, telling him they might reject him, that he was someone that needed nobody, he shouldn't go up to them and say anything, the frustration was so good for his music! But still, he walked on. Boots hitting the floor at the same pace of his rapidly beating heart as he walks up to you. You heard him before you saw him, the thump of his boots echoing closer and closer.

" Hey!"

He cringes internally, the hell was that greeting. Hey? Just hey?! He smiles. Cocky as usual. Face never betraying his emotions, yeah he was cool like that. The shaking of his hands held back as he puts them in his pockets. Its alright, he looked cool. Just like that, hands in his pockets fiddling with his phone as he leans against the wall to talk to you.

" Can I talk to you a bit before I go and record stuff?"

Oh gods you smiled and nodded. His heart fluttered. His expression, involuntary, visibly lighting up. The way your smile just made him smile so bright back. He takes a deep breath.

" I uh...I love you."

He spat it out. It wasn't cool. It wasn't sexy. It was a choked out confession. Heart racing, palms now sweaty in his pockets, still shaking. Hells, shaking More now. His breath heavy as he tries to keep the anxiety at bay. A feeling of stage fright he never felt before. Suddenly hitting him. You look at him, face slowly getting more flushed as you process the sudden confession.

" I hate it but I've fallen head over heels for you. I'm a fucking wreck. You ruin me."

Kayn runs his hands through his hair, a habit to calm himself down. His eyes closed as he takes a deep breath before continuing.

" You genuinely make my time here at the studio fun, your presence is chaotic and calming at the same time. I want to be with you. I want us to be a thing. You already know me, you've seen the me on stage during practice, off stage when I record lines, you've seen Rhaast go all out and you still choose to be around me. I want you more than anything I've ever wanted."

He looks at you now, a calm stare. Lips pursed in a tight line. Swallowing hard. His nerves somehow finding solace in letting out all his feelings that were pent up over the month or two since you got to know each other. You laugh, gods your laugh. He's giddy. You tell him you love him too. He smiles.

A pause as he suddenly stands up straight. You tell him you love him too?

" Wait haha what? Really?"

He was amazing of course you'd say yes but still, there was that tiny part of him that was worried. You liked him back? You Love him? The amazing you! The you that shone like a sun in his frustrating days of endless work as a rockstar. You! He was fucking Elated. Arms immediately around you, a tight hug as he lets out a sigh. Breath he didn't even realize he was holding until now. His arms still shaking a little as he held you.

" Can I kiss you. Right now? I-"

Kayn doesn't even finish his sentence, the moment you nod his lips are on yours, passionate. Hands threading through your hair as he holds your head gently. Holding you against him. His free hand around your waist, supporting you as much as he was supporting himself from falling apart at your touch. How he loved you, the smell of your hair so close to him now, the taste of your lips on his, the feeling of your soft delectable lips on his. How warm you were in his hands, how faint your breath on his face. He was in love. He was in Love.

As he pulls apart. He takes another deep breath. The way you left him literally breathless. Fuck. This was an excitement he never felt before. Never has a kiss left him feeling so...good? Never has a hug left him literally shaking with excitement. You were special and now you were his.

" You're so fucking perfect you know that?"

He laughs shakily. A hand rising, trembling as he lightly touches his lips. Still in disbelief. He loves you. Undeniably. Overwhelmingly. The storm of emotions he held for the past, who knows how long, now a summer breeze filling his chest with a warmth he doesn't remember ever feeling. He loves you.