#i hate how cold i sometimes seem but i know i’m a kind and well intentioned person | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

rrxnjun · 1 year ago

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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.

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nereidprinc3ss · 11 months ago

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okay i know this is kind of a specific request but can you do something with professor Spence and uni reader where they get into a spat and argue bc she did something stupid and he gets mad and she’s like “noooo pls don’t be mad i hate when you’re mad at me I’m sorry🥺” bc she literally cannot function knowing she let him down (me with everybody) but he’s like super stubborn and goes all closed up and quiet so that he doesn’t like blow up on her until she finally says like “pls talk to me” and he’s all pissed and like “hell na bitch u crazy!🗣️‼️” but then later he’s like “it’s ok i love u but neva do that shit again ho” then they make up and it’s good again 🎀 ok i explained that so poorly (and comedically if i may) but i hope u get it and pls make it SO DRAMATIC bc I live for drama! like she steals test answers or something or does something that could like get her kicked out of school OR him lose his job 🤔 sigh … idk I’m leaving now. Also i LOOPOOOCE ORRKGOOVI love your fics. Luv em

hey girl (gender neutral) this made me laugh bc genuinely sometimes i write spencer so ooc that is what he sounds like. and i'm not sorry! anyway this is potentially a vyvanse fueled nightmare but i wrote it and i'm posting it MY BLOG MY RULES BITCHESSSS!!!! but genuinely read the content warning LMAO this one got a lil kick to it

warnings/tags: ANGST, HURT/COMFORT, fem!reader, spencer and r get into a for real argument like they're mean to each other, spencer is a lil toxic but its resolved, emotionally neglects reader just for a teeensy second but then he's really nice and sweet again, discussion of his past addic+ion, gets fluffy because i'm not EVIL, gets suggestive at the end bc i am secretly evil.......

a/n: i don't know whats happening. this confuses me just as much as it confuses you. its 3 am in the morning. im gonna post nice happy things soon. Gootbye

“I cannot believe you right now. I don’t even—I don’t even know what to say.”

“Spencer, you don’t have to say anything. It has nothing to do with you, and I’m not looking for your approval.”

He looks up from where he’d been rubbing his temples, like you’re a headache, eyebrows raised and lips parted in indignant disbelief.

“Oh! You’re not looking for my approval? Well thank god for that, because if you were one of my students I would recommend expulsion to the board.”

“Are you fucking kidding me? I just said I don’t care about your opinion on this, much less your hypothetical opinion from some alternate universe where you have any authority over my education whatsoever.”

“You distributed an answer key to half of your class! Objectively this is the kind of thing that gets people expelled. I don’t understand how someone so smart could do something so fucking stupid.”

The words bite more than you were prepared for—but what hurts even more is how much he seems to mean them. In arguments past you’d both said things you didn’t mean, and then would immediately melt into I’m so sorry’s and the fight would resolve itself. Spencer’s clenched jaw and inability to make eye contact with you do not lend themselves to tender apologies. They cannot be attributed to miscommunication.

You take a step closer to where he’s bracing himself against the countertop, arms crossed defensively in front of your chest.

“Spencer, I’m sorry. I didn’t think it was such a big deal. People cheat in college all the time.”

Still no reply. His head shakes so minutely you wonder if you’re imagining it. Panic wells in your chest.

“Please talk to me. I really hate when you ice me out. I’m sorry, okay? Just... please say something.”

Finally, his eyes slide to you. They lack the fiery anger of moments ago but there’s not much softness there either. His normally warm gaze now feels too abrasive, too cold and sharp on your bare skin. You're exposed, much too soft for that grating look, and it feels like he can see everything that’s wrong with you.

“Believe me when I tell you this. I am doing us both a favor by not speaking to you right now.”

And then he’s leaving the kitchen—nothing but a breeze against your cheek and the sound of a door slamming to prove he was ever there.

The apartment is silent. You stand in the middle of the kitchen, unsure of what to do next. Spencer very, very rarely gets angry at you to the point of neglect, and you know he’s doing his best with what was modelled for him as a child and his tendency to feel things so deeply it’s nearly disabling; but that doesn’t make it hurt much less. It doesn’t make you feel less abandoned or alone.

You’re sad, and you’re still pissed, and maybe you’re in just a bit of shock as you robotically move back to your nest of blankets on the couch and resume your schoolwork. What else is there to do? Unless Spencer is right—unless you really are about to get expelled after getting the answer key for an upcoming test from a friend, who then gave it to another friend, and so on. But is that really your fault?

It’s a struggle to stay focused as your mind keeps drifting back to Spencer in the other room, those cruel words and that cold steely look in his eye that isn’t supposed to ever be aimed at you. It’s not a secret that side of him exists, but it doesn’t belong in this apartment. It’s not something he needs to use against you. He’s supposed to be on your side. But instead, he’d said you should be expelled and essentially called you stupid. And now you’re doing homework for a class at a school you may not even be a student of come Monday.

---------------------------------------------------

The sound of the office door opening forty-five minutes later spikes your blood pressure and simultaneously makes your heart flutter, because no matter how mad at him you might be, Spencer is still Spencer.

He comes to stand behind the couch quietly, but you don’t acknowledge him. Maybe your typing gets a bit more aggressive, but aside from that you flat out reject his presence.

“Can we talk?”

You let him sweat for a minute as you finish your paragraph.

“I don’t know, Spencer. Can we? Or are you not done with your temper tantrum?”

“That is... well deserved,” he sighs, rounding the couch and tapping the bottom of your foot, signaling that he wants you to move your legs. You despise how automatically you comply, pulling your knees to your chest to avoid touching him as he sits next to you. There’s a long moment of silence, in which you resume typing. Spencer scoffs, leaning in slightly to peer at your screen. “Are you doing homework right now? I’m a complete asshole to you and you just... do your homework?"

“What the fuck else was I supposed to do?” you almost-yell, slamming your laptop shut and blinking away potential tears. “The only person I wanted to talk to called me stupid and fucking left!”

The tears realize their potential once you admit the blunt truth.

Spencer carefully moves your laptop and pulls you into his arms—and you just let him. There’s not much fight left in you. There wasn’t a lot to begin with.

“I am so sorry, angel. You’re right, I shouldn’t have done that. I shouldn’t have yelled, I shouldn’t have said what I said, I shouldn’t have walked away. I overreacted.”

“Yeah, you really did,” you cry, allowing him to run his hand over your hair. “Why did you do that? Why were you so fucking mean?”

His voice shakes slightly as he responds, betraying his own anxieties, and a new, unwelcome sense of trepidation slithers through your veins.

“I was wondering that, too. Even as I was saying it, I knew—I knew it wasn’t what I wanted to be saying. And then I was in the other room and I wanted to be out here, and I couldn’t figure out why I wasn’t. But I think I was just scared. Which—I know, doesn’t really make sense, but... I think about when Ethan dropped out of the academy, and ended up doing heroin in New Orleans for three years, and I think about when I almost left the BAU because I was so convinced I’d never get clean that I didn’t even want to anymore, and—and the idea of you losing your education and your direction like that terrified me, probably unreasonably, and I took it out on you. And I’m sorry.”

“But I’m not like you or Ethan. You don’t have to worry about that. Even if I... even I do get in some sort of disciplinary trouble. That’s a road you don’t have to worry about me going down, ever.”

He fixes some unseen wrinkle on your shirt.

“Yeah, but, remember... I used to not be like me or Ethan either. Do you think twelve-year-old Spencer would have ever even considered that of the infinite realities and universes which exist, he was living in one where someday he’d be shooting up in the bathroom at work?”

“Mm-mm,” you hum, shaking your head and burying your face in Spencer’s shoulder. The sound is more of a plea for him to be less descriptive than an answer to his rhetorical question. It’s still much easier for him to talk about that part of his life than it is for you to have to actually imagine it. You didn’t know him then, but you’ve seen pictures, and you know Spencer now, and it’s... it’s just too much. Too sad.

“Okay,” he agrees soothingly, still playing with your hair. “I digress. My point is that literally anything is possible, and while it’s not necessarily likely, I more than anyone know that anxiety even over the most improbable of things is never completely unfounded.”

You sniffle in response, too emotionally and physically exhausted to contribute much to the conversation by this point. Thankfully, Spencer can talk for two. An idiosyncrasy which you love and comes in handy every once in a while. He can play his own devil’s advocate; in this case, you.

“But that doesn’t mean I get to take it out on you. Ever. I truly, truly, sincerely apologize for that. I never want to hurt you.”

You let the apology sink into your skin like a salve, soothing every abrasion those earlier words had left in their violent wake.

After a few minutes, you find the energy to ask a question that might best remain unanswered.

“Are you still mad at me?”

He’s quiet for a beat, seemingly contemplative as his fingers trace abstract patterns in a language all his own on your arm.

“I’m not thrilled. But you were right earlier. It’s not my place to be mad at you for something like that.”

“Mm... it’s a little bit your place. You’re an actual professor.”

He chuckles.

“At an entirely different university.”

“Thank god,” you laugh. “You and me at the same school would be such an HR clusterfuck.”

While it’s almost a serious matter, the smile in his voice is evident.

“Yeah... I, uh... try not to think about it.”

“Okay, but seriously. In your professional opinion. Am I fucked? Like, do I need to prepare an appeal and character witnesses or whatever?”

Spencer sighs.

“It was incredibly reckless and irresponsible. You should be ready for disciplinary pushback from the schoolboard if you get caught. That being said... because over sixty of you got a hold of the answer key, I doubt anyone is getting expelled, and even if they did, it would likely only be the TA and the student he gave the key to. It’s my tentative, professional opinion that you’ll probably be fine.”

You relax slightly, allowing a tension you didn’t realize was there to shed like an old skin.

“I’m not gonna cheat again,” you promise on an exhale. It’s simply too much risk for too little reward.

Spencer’s response is quiet, and comes much faster than you’d expected.

“Oh, I know you aren’t. Because if you do, you’re going to have to worry about disciplinary action from me. And I’m not nearly as nice as the dean of your school, darling girl.”

But something about the way he says it—a thinly veiled threat/promise contrasted by a sweet kiss to your forehead—doesn’t exactly make academic honesty look all that exciting.

#spencer reid #criminal minds #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid fic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x self insert #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you

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thoughtsforsoob · 10 months ago

Note

Hiii!Can I ask for "arguments with txt" with comfort at the end?

arguments with txt

a/n: I just made like a texts version of this so please check out my last post! I will fulfill this request by making a more long form version about what arguments with them are like/about. (I hate conflict. If people are arguing or fighting in front of me, I will run off or just straight up have a panic attack, it's happened before. trust me. witnessing school fights in hs was not kind to me). I hope this is okay too :) hehe you almost got 2 parts in a way. Please enjoy! I’m currently cleaning out my inbox so idk how fast it’ll get done but I promise im doing my best. Thank you!!!

Yeonjun

Argument’s with him are very uncommon. He often time doesn’t take them very seriously that frustrates you to no end. You and him tend to argue about little things which is surprise because you seem to talk out all of the big things you guys go through. It’s very confusing to say the least. He’ll get upset with you for little things like for example: leaving your dish in the sink for later. It drives him up the wall and it really shouldn’t. His tactics for when he’s upset is to just get away from you and ignore you for an hour or two. you already know his habits so you just leave him be. He’s not really good at admitting he’s wrong or that his behavior was pointless but he knows it in his head. Over time, he’ll stop doing things like this but just give him some time. He’s adjusting to being the both of you in the apartment and not just him.

Soobin

it's so hard to argue with him because he will never want to face your issues head on. he's shy in nature so any conflict makes him nervous and he retreats, avoiding talking about it. he would much rather forgive and forget without say much at all. sometimes, though, it's impossible to forgive and forget without saying anything. when those situations so arise, you have to sit him down and talk to him very calmly. he responds better to this type of conversations. anyways, he is very silent when it comes to arguments as well. you can tell he's upset because his responses are so short and cold. the best way to ask him to talk is just asking him straight but with a very calm voice so as to not make him upset even more.

Beomgyu

I would hare to argue with him. He's so unresponsive when it comes to arguments. The only things he does is sit there and listen to you talk to him about what he's done wrong, roll his eyes with a huff and then just spew out all kinds of meant things. He knows what he's saying but he doesn't;t think it'll affect you in the long wrong. During one argument, you were getting on him about picking up his game remote from the couch and putting them into the little box you bought him for all the cables and remotes to are stored in. you also threw in a little comment about picking his dirty clothes off the bathroom floor and he lost it. he said you were lazy and did the same thing too (leaving your clothes behind). he only realizes what he's done when you start to cry right in front of him. he goes nuts apologizing and will def come to his senses when he sees you this way.

Taehyun

he will sit there at argue with you for hours, upon hours, upon hours. he is not going to back down because he hates being wrong. even if he knows he's wrong, he hates admitting it. he always eventually admits his faults but it takes a while. he is so stubborn and it causes quite a few issues in your relationship. something this causes the both of you to fight over the most silly things ever. one of the silliest ones for example was when you were talking about how much you loved in actor in a movie you had watched he'd recently. he insists that it was someone else and eventually he realizes hes wrong but he hates to say he made a mistake. he gives you silent treatment for a few hours and when that time is up, he goes to look for you and tells you to get ready because you're going to get food with him. he is such a mom when it comes to apologizing (my mom loves to mend our issues with a trip for boba or a trip to target where she buys me snacks or a new shirt or something).

Huening Kai

he is just like soobin in the aspect of a relationship. non-confrontational to the bone. arguments trigger his fight or flight and it frustrates him when arguments run too long. arguments with him are always about him putting himself down or not letting himself rest enough when he is clearly exhausted. thats all. you too can usually talk things out due to your extremely close bond but sometimes things get out of hand and you have to get on his case. it usually starts with him coming home in tears and beyond frustrated. this is almost always because he sat in the practice room and read comments left by mean people. or because ehe was struggling with a new choreography. you try to help him by telling him to wash up and get rest but he completely just blows up on you and tells you to butt out. you leave him alone but he realizes his mistake when he see you on the couch, covered with a blanket, watching tv without him. he sits next to you and apologizes. he is not someone who hates being wrong. if he's wrong, he'll apologize with no hesitation.

#txt fluff #txt imagines #txt headcanons #txt x reader #txt reactions #soobin x reader #yeonjun #soobin fluff #yeonjun x reader #beomgyu x reader #beomgyu fluff #taehyun fluff #taehyun x reader #huening kai fluff #huening kai imagines #huening kai x reader

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bomber-grl · 1 year ago

Text

Nico Di Angelo fluff alphabet

₊˚⊹ Pairing(s): Nico Di Angelo x Reader (no pronouns/no specific godly parent)

₊˚⊹ Warning(s): cuss words, could be ooc, T*ktok/gen z humor/language

A = Admiration (what do they absolutely adore about you?)

He adores everything about you

No,it isn’t some cringe ass thing I’m saying to say

I honestly do believe he likes everything about you

Sure he’s bias on what things

But he loves the way you laugh, smile and even those cringe ass jokes you make.

B = Body (what is their favorite part of your body?)

Honestly I definitely see nicos favorite part of your body being your hands.

He loves his hair being played with and he’s always moving your hand to his head or his head to your lap.

Your lap being his second favorite place because he can rest there whenever.

C = Cuddling (how do they like to cuddle?)

Nico definitely hates physical touch of any kind

I think we all know that, however you’re the exception.

So going on, he sleeps all over the place

But, he likes when you hold him. Poor boy had been traumatized enough so having his trust and comfort and enough for you to cuddle him is 💯

So it’s pretty comforting to be able to hold him and cuddle whenever.

D = Dates (what does their ideal date with you look like?)

Honestly broski is glad ur even dating him

He’s an obvious introvert and prefers you and him alone somewhere like in your room or outside having a picnic.

Definitely prefers just the two of you but if you decide to go out he doesn’t say anything in the moment but suggests u don’t ever do that again later on.

E = Emotions (how do they express emotion around you?)

Def emotionally stiff and outwardly constipated

Inwardly his emotions are out of control

Ofc that changed eventually but still

He learns to be more expressive and it gets to the point where you’re the only one who understands what he’s feeling/thinking

F= Future (What are their plans for the future? Do they see themselves getting married, having kids?)

He doesn’t rlly have plans of a family or kids or anything

He’d only ever thought of surviving and recently, you

He doesn’t really need anything besides his friends and you, especially you

So don’t expect him to ever bring up kids or anything because u and Hazel are his family so 🤷‍♀️

G = Gifts (how do they feel about gift giving? What are their habits when it comes to this?)

He likes giving you stuff but not rlly

He likes pampering you and stuff but rlly he just shoved it in your hands and if u mention it, well just don’t.

Same vice versa except he down rlly know how to react so he’ll look like he’s trying to shit but can’t

Be gentle cuz broski might like ur gifts but can’t express it

It’s ok tho 👍

H = Holding Hands (when/how do they like to hold hands?)

Def not into pda

However, he will still hold your hand and partially because he wants to be close and protect you and cuz you’ve been arguing that he’s too cold and needs to warm up

Most likely to hold your hand while you two walk alone or if he holds your hand while he has it in his hoodie pocket

The second one happens mostly during winter

I = Injury (how would they act if you got hurt?)

Horribly

Yea he knows you’re strong and capable but he’s horribly protective

Anyone who hurts you will know his wrath and he’s not afraid to make sure it’s known

J = Jokes (do they like to joke around with or prank you? how?)

Def becomes a bit of a jokester after you get past his cold demeanor

His humor is so broken and mostly consists of online bs

Definitely includes some dark humor too

I can def see him joking around w u or even playing pranks on each other.

It seems like he’s a completely different person when he’s joking around

Def scares the campers

K = Kisses (how do they like to kiss you?)

Mostly in short but sweet pecks on the lips or cheek

Mostly on the cheek

Doesn’t rlly kiss that often but he likes being kissed

Mostly around his face and stuff but it don’t matter

Kisses change depending on the mood too so sometimes it’s desperate and even a bit heated

Nothing ever rlly comes of it tho

L = Love (how do they show you they love you?)

He’s always showing you his love and care

Even the most obvious ways, in which he’s hugging you and wanting to be close

And even if it’s most dreadfully annoying, his love language is to scold or even tell u off for scaring the shit out of him when it comes to monsters and stuff.

So yes Nico Di Angelo loves you even tho at times it seems like he doesn’t,if you ever doubt he doesn’t love you he’ll be seriously hurt

M = Melt (What do you do that absolutely makes them melt?)

All the stupid shit you do

Especially for him

Like going out of your way to buy him a bouquet and accompany it with a cringe love letter.

Or even singing him a romance song to “proclaim” your love despite the fact you’ve been together for a good while now

He honestly finds it endearing so don’t ever stop

N = Nightmare (what is their worst fear?)

His worst nightmare is losing you

He lost basically everyone in his life and you’re one of the good things left of it

So when he wakes up from a bad nightmare he appreciates you being there and rubbing his back or just hugging him

O = Obvious (How obvious do they make it that they like you?)

Not obvious whatsoever

To you (if you’re really oblivious or the average person)

Let me elaborate

Nico is very obvious if you know the difference between his normal and unnormal behavior/ if you can read him.

Otherwise you don’t got a clue

P = Pet Names (what do they like to call you?)

Cringe ass ugly ass nicknames

Based off your godly parent and powers and stuff

Def goes along when u call him pookie wookie or anything of the sort

Would be disgusted if u actually meant it

As if he wasn’t calling you his sugar booger just a sec ago

Hypocrite.

Q= Quiet (How are the calm, quiet moments with them?)

Incredible

It’s nice to just lay back and admire the stars or even each other in silence

No matter how cringe he insists it is, it’s still obvious how much he loves it especially when you get to see him smile.

R = Rhythm (what song reminds you of them?)

R= Romance (How romantic are they? What are their go to ways of being romantic?

Kinda see him as a romantic

But like doesn’t know how to be romantic

Yknow?

He definitely reads romance books, listens to romance songs but never saw himself being in a romantic relationship

So he’s rough around the edges but once y’all become comfortable he goes out of his way to show u affection

Kissing your cheek, laying on you, buying you food, etc.

S = safe (What makes them feel safe and comfortable around you?)

Cuz you’re u

You’re his boyfriend/partner and you’d have to be super close to even have this level of relationship

You guys can joke around without it being awkward or forced and that’s what he loves

He feels especially safe when he’s tucked warmly in your arms

T = Time (how long did it take you to get together?)

It took awhile

He was pretty closed off and traumatized so it makes sense

But once y’all got closer you were inseparable so it was worth it

T= Tend ( How do they act when you’re hurt or sick, and vice versa?)

He’s not exactly a healer but he uses his scariness to give u the best treatment

He’s very cold to others during this time and on edge with anything involving you.

Very protective as well

If he’s ever sick or injured the he’d appreciate if you didn’t speak too much or loudly

Don’t coddle him, he hates it

Acting as if he doesn’t smile when u do)

U = Upset (how do they act when you’re upset?)

He’s pretty much like

“Cowabummer” if it’s sum not that major

Like he’ll sympathize but move on

If it’s major he def gives u space and doesn’t say sum bs like “I understand u” or whatever

He listens and asks if u want some feedback, if not then he ain’t saying anything

Eventually gives unsolicited feed cuz he always gotta give offhand comments)

V = Vaunt (what are they proud of? Do they like to show you off?)

He’s proud of you and your guy’s relationship

He won’t exactly show it off per say but he won’t hesitate to be proud of you

He doesn’t rlly show u off but mostly just says stuff like “yea (your name) can do that but like 100x better”

But what he really thought was “(your name) would beat that guy in a sec”

Rlly admires you

W = Warrior (how do they feel about you fighting? Would they fight for you, beside you, etc?)

Fighting is kinda sorta and essential to survive as a demigod soooo…

But when it comes to fights he’s obviously protective

Just not too much where it’s annoying

Only if u got hurt or weren’t able to protect yourself

He def fights for you and besides you

If anyone insults him, ok he’s mad

But if anyone insults you, he’s fucking pissed

U better do the same broski)

W = Wash ( What’s it like taking a bath with them, or helping them wash up after a fight?)

Nicos pretty quiet and doesn’t talk after a fight

He’s exhausted and he’s too tired to, he might try to reject your help but with much perseverance you pushed through and finally was able to clean and wash him up

You bandaged him up and fed him some nectar

He was pretty obedient, not putting up a fight for the most part.

Quiet too

X = X-Ray (how well are they able to read you?)

He can read you pretty well

Atleast what you’re thinking overall

Sometimes he overthinks and begins wondering what if…?

Can understand you a decent amount

X = XO ( How do they show you affection? How much PDA are they willing to show?)

Pretty affectionate when he wants to be

Mostly when he’s sleepy and off guard

He’s warmed up to you so that includes occasional physical touch

Mostly with your hands, now he hardly fidgets with his skull ring, mostly fidgeting with your hands or something on you

These little displays of affection go unnoticed by others but not you

In terms of PDA, he hates it

Please don’t ever kiss him in front of anyone, especially Hazel

He doesn’t mind hand holding, and if you were in a life or death situation PDA is off his mind and he’d rather cry and hug and sob w u then not have you near him just cuz he’s unaffectionate in public.

Y = Yearn (What do they do when they miss you?)

Yes.

When he misses you he becomes grumpy and cranky to everyone

He’d probably lay in your bed for comfort or get one of your hoodies and put it on.

Falls asleep and hopes when he wakes up you’ll be there

Even if you’re not ,he hopes he’ll dream of you

Regrets it cuz then he misses you more even in his dreams)

Z=Zzz ( How do they act when they get sleepy? How is it sleeping in the same bed?)

He’s dizzy and a bit delirious

And you both end up cuddling after laughing and talking about random shit at 2 am

He’s kind of a crazy sleeper and has notoriously bad bed head

Cute, but rlly bad

Same when he’s sleepy

He’s so cute and most times he says what’s on his mind instead of filtering it out.

Makes you pay for it when he’s in a clearer state of mind 😔

———————————————————————————

A/N: added two prompts for a couple of letters just cuz I felt like it and don’t hesitate to let me know if there are any spelling mistakes! :)

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jolalibrary · 11 months ago

Text

voicemails

frankie morales x f!reader

do we drabble on sundays? is this what we do? well, anyway, here’s some soft sunday fluff. no warnings: except fluff and sweetness and lovely softness. dedicated to @msjarvis who didn't ask for this but I’m giving anyway.

JUST THINKING ABOUT HOW THE TWO OF YOU BEGIN LEAVING VOICE NOTES FOR ONE ANOTHER. It started one time when life took one of you away from the other—the bed you share and the walls you laugh inside of are lonely without the pair of you together. Because it all feels vaster, quieter.

Then it became a thing. A make-do measure, a thing both of you grew to need first thing in the morning and last thing at night. A habit. A tradition. The day not beginning or ending without it.

It quickly becomes a comfort, a thing that brings the both of you joy, happiness—in the same way the scent of your shampoo does for him and how when he’s alone he leans closer to your pillow because it lingers and he consumes as much of it as he can to trick himself he’s not lay in bed alone.

Your voice in the morning makes up for the fact your mug isn’t left on the side or in the sink, all used. Because he hates it when he wakes and finds it in the cupboard, where he put it last night, it rumbling through him and making his chest clench.

There’s a list of things he misses when you’re not home, and if he begins, he isn’t sure he’ll ever stop.

Frankie supposes you’ll have your own list. An itinerary of things you miss about him when he’s out of town. Sometimes you share them, let them slip out and mumble them down the phone when you’re pacing, unsure what to do when he’s not home. It makes his heart squeeze in his chest, all tight, especially when he hears you doing mundane things he usually gets to watch you do, like cook or make a drink.

It’s why he likes the voice notes. Likes being a part of your day even if he’s not there. Has the chance to listen to them on his drive or when he’s brushing his teeth—pretending, even in hotel rooms—that you’re closer than you are. Staring at your contact photo as you say those three words, I miss you.

The voice notes range in topic. Sometimes they’re about your day, about the fucker you work with that he’d love to break the nose off; sometimes they’re a ramble about your breakfast, interspersed with a minor rant about something. Odd times they’re about dinner, hearing you move things in the refrigerator before you confess you’ll order and leave him leftovers.

He has his favourites, a handful of ones he’ll listen to on days where he needs more sunshine. One is the day you tripped, again, over his toolbox. An odd choice, he knows. It beginning all high-pitched, voice tinged in venom and anger:

“Francisco Morales, if you leave your toolbox in the hallway one more time—“

Then it was doused in sweetness, absolute honey, and it wasa exhilarating to fucking listen to.

“—Oh, you washed up. Oh, baby. Well, shit—Frankie, I love you okay? Just put your damn tools away.”

But the one he has saved is one where you’ve tired, exhausted—brain having kept you awake and every noise in the house doing something to make the shadows seem more dangerous than they were. You’re babbling, eyes likely closed, voice just reeling off the things your brain is thinking—no filter, no barrier between thought and tongue.

“—and baby, even though I’ve been sleeping in your clothes, I miss you. ‘Cause you make me happy—so happy, you know that? You have to. Tell you a lot. The bed does feel super weird without you. It’s really cold, and big—like too big. I turned the thermostat up, I know, I know, I’ll turn it down. Oh, and baby, I saw sprinkles moonwalk again on the fence. I did try to record it—but, you know me, I’m clumsy, chipped my phone. Don’t be mad. Please. I know you won’t cause you’re good, kind, nice—god you makemehappy. So tired. Justwanttosleep, you know?—“

He remembers driving back through the night the following day—slipping in, quiet as a mouse. Old training came in handy as he slid out of his boots and cautiously placed his keys.

Frankie managed to miss the floorboard he needs to fix, the one that usually gives him away—and even remembered to not use the light in the bathroom. His last test had been the bed, somehow managing to get in with precision, even roll you closer without waking you.

It’s worth it, all the time away—the voice notes in between—for the life he’s able to build with you and the look he wakes to in the morning.

A thing he thinks each time.

Because you look at him like he solved every problem wrong in your world; you look at him like he makes the impossible, possible.

And, after all he’s been through, he’d been sure that ship had more than sailed. That his chance had gone, faded, slipped through his fingers like water or dust.

But here you are. Your voice filling his ear in real time, whispering a good morning, if he had a safe drive—and he’s full of gratitude all over again. As he is every time he gets to hear your voice—in person or through the phone.

an: sometimes, voice notes are just the best, right? I also love voice mails, and all voice related things.

#frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #francisco morales x reader #francisco morales fanfiction #Francisco catfish morales x reader #francisco morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #triple frontier fanfiction

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lvnleah · 2 months ago

Note

Please could you do a fic with Rory having her first tantrum and make beth and viv unsure on what to do, maybe they ask friends to help? Idk just an idea

Rory’s first tantrum.

thank you for this request!

Your first tantrum came out of nowhere.

Beth and Viv were trying to get you to wear your coat but you didn’t want to. It was too itchy and didn't feel nice to wear. Instead, you wanted to wear just your T-shirt.

“Well done, Roo!” Beth praised you as you put your welly boots on. “Do you need help putting your coat on?”

“Nooo!” You whined, hating the thought of having to even touch the coat, “No coat, Mummy!”

“Roo, it’s cold outside,” Viv gently reminded you, “It’s autumn so we need to put our big coats on, don’t we? Me and Mummy have ours on!”

“No!” You shouted, jumping down off of the shoe bench and crossing your arms over your chest. “No coat! It’s not comfy Mamma!”

Beth sighed, crouching down to your level. “I know it’s not comfy, munchkin, but we can’t go out unless you wear something warm. How about we just try it on for a second? If it’s too uncomfortable, we’ll figure something else out.”

You stomped your foot in frustration, your face scrunched up. “No!” you yelled, tears starting to well up in your eyes. “No coat! No, no, no!”

You’d been in a little bit of a mood all morning after having little to no sleep. It was one of those nights where Beth and Viv couldn’t get you to settle down, no matter what they tried. Eventually, they gave up trying to get you to settle in your own room and brought you into theirs where you seemed to be much happier.

Viv crouched down, her voice still calm but a little firmer now. “Rory, you need to put your coat on, okay? It’s too cold out for just a t-shirt.”

“Here look, let’s just try it, yeah?” Beth suggested, trying to slip your arm into the coat.

You whacked Beth’s arm away from you, “No Mummy!” You screamed, “No coat!”

Beth gasped softly, more out of surprise than pain. She looked over at Viv, her eyes wide, unsure of what to do. It was the first time you’d ever lashed out like that.

“Rory, no, we don’t hit Mummy,” she said, “hitting is not okay, even when we’re upset. We can use our words to tell Mummy and Mamma how we feel, but we don’t hit okay?”

You froze, realising what had just happened. Tears streamed down your cheeks, and you mumbled, “I didn’t mean to, Mummy…”

Beth still crouched down, pulled you into a gentle hug. “I know, Roo. I know you didn’t mean to, but we have to be kind, even when we’re frustrated.” She kissed the top of your head, her voice soft. “It’s okay to feel upset, but we can talk about it instead of hitting, yeah?”

You sniffled, nodding against her shoulder. “I’m sorry, Mummy.”

Beth smiled gently, stroking your hair. “It’s okay, love. We all get upset sometimes. But we can always fix it by talking.”

Viv, still sitting close, offered you a small smile. “Let’s try something else, yeah? Would you like to pick a different coat? Maybe your jumper instead?”

Your tears slowed, and you looked between your mums. “Can I wear the jumper?”

Beth wiped the last of your tears away, smiling. “Of course, you can, sweetheart. We just want you to be warm.”

Viv grabbed your favourite jumper from the coat rack and held it out to you. “Here you go, Roo. Does this feel better?”

You nodded as Beth pulled it over your head, the soft material instantly making you feel more comfortable. “Thank you, Mamma.”

Viv ruffled your hair, relief washing over her face. “There we go. Ready for our walk now?”

You smiled, your little hand reaching out for Beth’s. “Ready!”

Finally, you made your way out of the house. Beth and Viv held your hands as you skipped along, chattering happily, all traces of the earlier tantrum forgotten. The park was only a short walk from your house.

Beth led you to the swings, lifting you up gently as you clutched the chains, a wide smile spreading across your face. “Ready, Roo?” she asked, and you nodded eagerly.

As she started to push, your little giggles overtook your tiny body. Viv stood nearby, watching you with a smile. She occasionally joined in, taking turns pushing you and laughing along with Beth as you demanded, “Higher! Higher!”

Eventually, you got bored of the swing and made a beeline for the slide. You climbed up the stairs as Beth and Viv stood at either side of the slide.

“I’m gonna go sooo fast!” You declared once you reached the top, “Mamma! Catch me at the bottom.”

Viv moved to the bottom of the slide, ready to catch you.

You perched at the top of the slide, a huge grin on your face, your little hands gripping the sides. “Here I come, Mamma!” you shouted before pushing off, sliding down as fast as your little legs could go.

Viv held her arms out, catching you gently as you landed with a squeal. She lifted you up, throwing you around as you giggled. “There’s my speedy Roo!” she laughed, pressing a kiss to your cheek.

“Again!” you cried, wriggling in her arms, eager to go back up.

Beth chuckled, watching the two of you with a fond smile. “Alright, little daredevil, but just a few more times, okay? We’ll have to head home soon.”

You scrambled up the slide ladder, bouncing with excitement. This time, Beth moved to the bottom, ready to catch you. Viv stood next to her, grinning as you shouted, “Mummy, catch me this time!”

Beth braced herself, arms out, as you zoomed down. When you reached her, she scooped you up, pulling you into a big hug as you bursted into laughter.

“Got you, Roo!” she said, spinning you around in the air. “You’re getting faster every time!”

You smiled, proud of yourself. “I’m the fastest!”

Beth raised an eyebrow, feigning surprise. “Oh, are you sure? Mamma and I are pretty fast too, you know.”

You giggled, jumping up and down as Beth set you down on the floor. “I’ll beat you both! Let’s race to that big tree!”

The three of you lined up at the “starting line,” and Viv counted down dramatically. “Three… two… one… go!”

You took off, pumping your little legs as fast as you could toward the big tree. Beth and Viv jogged alongside you, pretending to struggle to keep up, laughing as you pulled ahead, clearly in the lead.

When you reached the tree, you turned around, breathless and beaming with pride. “I won! I’m the winner!”

Viv bent down, hands on her knees, pretending to catch her breath. “Wow, Roo, you really are the fastest! You beat Mummy and Mamma!”

Beth laughed, “Well done, munchkin!”

Vivv checked the time on her phone, noticing it was nearly lunchtime. “Alright, Roo, I think it’s about time we head home, yeah? Mamma and Mummy are getting hungry.”

But you were still filled with energy and didn’t want to leave. You shook your head defiantly. “No! More playing!”

Beth exchanged a knowing look with Viv. “I know you’re having fun, sweetheart, but we’ve been here a long time. We need to eat soon.”

You pouted, crossing your arms. “But I don’t want to go!”

Viv crouched down to your level, her voice calm and understanding. “I know, Roo. It’s hard to leave when you’re having fun, isn’t it? But we can come back another day, and we can have a yummy lunch together at home. Maybe we can even have a special treat after?”

The mention of a treat caught your attention, and you looked up, curious. “What kind of treat?”

Beth smiled, playing along. “How about a warm cup of hot chocolate with whipped cream? You can even help Mummy and Mamma make it.”

You tilted your head, thinking it over, the thought of hot chocolate starting to win you over. “With marshmallows?”

Beth grinned. “Definitely with marshmallows. Lots of them.”

You gave a small nod, your pout beginning to fade. “Okay… but only if I can have three marshmallows!”

Viv laughed, holding out her hand. “Deal. Three marshmallows it is!”

With the promise of hot chocolate, you finally agreed to leave the park. Beth and Viv each took one of your hands, swinging them playfully as you made your way back home. Along the way, you chattered about how fast you were, replaying the race and declaring yourself the fastest runner in the whole world.

Once home, Beth helped you take off your boots while Viv set up everything for hot chocolate in the kitchen. True to her word, she let you add exactly three marshmallows to your cup, and Beth sprayed whipped cream on top, making you giggle as it formed a fluffy mountain.

Sitting at the table, you sipped your hot chocolate, a little moustache of whipped cream forming on your upper lip. Beth and Viv couldn’t help but smile, watching you, their little bundle of energy, finally calm and content.

Beth reached over, wiping the whipped cream from your lip with a chuckle. “How’s that, munchkin?”

You grinned, holding your mug with both hands. “It’s the best!”

Later that evening, after you’d finally settled down with a blanket, Twix and Viv, Beth snuck off to the kitchen, phone in hand. She leaned against the counter, glancing back towards the living room where you were quietly watching your show. With a deep breath, she dialled Leah’s number.

After a few rings, Leah’s familiar voice came through. “Hey, Beth! What’s up?”

Beth sighed, her voice low. “Hey, Le. You got a second? I just… I could use some advice.”

Leah instantly picked up on her tone. “Of course. What’s going on?”

Beth rubbed her forehead, chuckling softly. “Roo had her first tantrum today. Full-on meltdown over her coat. I mean, I knew it would happen eventually, but… I didn’t expect it to be this intense.”

Leah laughed gently, sympathetic. “Ah, welcome to the club. Buddy threw a tantrum last week because her apple slices weren’t ‘happy enough.’ It’s all part of the deal.”

Beth let out a relieved laugh, feeling a bit less alone. “Yeah? I thought maybe we’d done something wrong. It was just… shocking. She’s never done that before.”

“Oh, Beth, that’s normal. Kids are still learning how to express themselves. Sometimes their emotions get too big, and they don’t know how to handle it,” Leah reassured her. “But the fact that she felt bad about it right after? That shows she’s a sensitive, caring kid. You’re doing great with her.”

Beth felt a wave of relief wash over her. “Thanks, Le. I just… I want to make sure we handle it right, you know? We told her it’s okay to be upset, but not okay to hit. Do you think that was the right way to go about it?”

“Absolutely,” Leah said. “Reassuring her that she’s allowed to feel what she feels but can express it in better ways is perfect. It’s all about consistency. And if you’re feeling lost, remember that you and Viv are both there to help each other through it.”

Beth smiled, “I really needed to hear that. Thank you.”

Leah’s voice softened. “Anytime. Parenting isn’t easy, but you’re doing an amazing job. Rory’s lucky to have you both.”

Beth glanced back towards you, her heart swelling as she watched you curl up on the couch, engrossed in your show with Viv. “Thanks, Le. That means a lot coming from you. I’m glad she’s got such a good auntie in her life too.”

Leah chuckled on the other end. “Anytime, Beth. Just wait for when she’s a teenager and throws a tantrum over curfews or phone limits.”

Beth laughed, shaking her head. “I’m dreading them days, honestly.”

Just then, she heard a little voice calling from the living room. “Mummy!”

Beth straightened, her smile widening. “Guess that’s my cue.”

Leah grinned. “Give Viv and my little Roo a hug from me.”

“Will do,” Beth promised, hanging up. Taking a deep breath, she pocketed her phone and returned to the living room.

“Alright, munchkin, what’s next?” she asked, ruffling your hair as you looked up at her with a grin, safe and sound in the warmth of your family.

“Mummy!” you chirped, patting the seat beside you on the couch. “Sit with me and Mamma!”

Beth smiled and slid onto the couch next to you, wrapping an arm around your shoulders as Viv looked over with a warm smile. You immediately snuggled into her side, and Viv reached over to gently rub your back.

“What are we watching, Roo?” Beth asked, peeking at the screen.

You pointed, your eyes bright. “It’s the one with the big red dog, Mummy! He’s sooo big!”

Beth nodded with exaggerated amazement. “Wow, the biggest dog in the world! You think we could handle one that big, Roo?”

You giggled, shaking your head. “Nooo, Twix is already big enough!”

Viv laughed, resting her head on Beth’s shoulder. “I think Twix would be very jealous of a big red dog around here.”

You watched the show, your little hand resting on Beth’s knee while Viv’s arm stayed wrapped around you. Eventually, the show ended, and you let out a long yawn, blinking sleepily.

Beth leaned down, brushing a soft kiss against your forehead. “Looks like it’s time for bed, munchkin.”

You whined softly, rubbing your eyes. “But… but I’m not tired!”

Viv smirked, lifting you gently into her arms. “Not tired, huh? Those sleepy eyes say otherwise.”

You clung to Viv’s neck, burying your face in her shoulder as she carried you towards your room, Beth following closely behind. Once you were in your pyjamas and tucked into bed, Viv sat beside you while Beth pulled up over you.

Beth smiled, her voice soft. “Want a bedtime story?”

You nodded eagerly, your sleepiness momentarily forgotten. “Yes, please, Mummy!”

Beth started the story, her voice calm and gentle as she described a magical land filled with talking animals and hidden treasures. Your eyelids began to droop, and soon, you were fast asleep, the day’s adventures finally catching up to you.

Beth and Viv stayed for a moment, watching you sleep peacefully, a smile of pride and love shared between them.

Beth whispered, “We did alright today, didn’t we?”

Viv squeezed her hand gently. “More than alright. We’re doing the best we can, and I think that’s enough.”

#lvnleah #awfc #beth mead x vivianne miedema #our little love #rory miedema

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cheeeeseburger · 7 months ago

Text

Text me first and I'll definitely text you back

Lando Norris x Reader

Masterlist

A/N: English is not my first language, apologies for the mistakes! Enjoy!

It was 1 am, and you could not sleep. LIke at all. Your room was too hot, too stuffy, but also too cold at the same time. Your bed felt empty. To pass time, you were scrolling on your phone, when suddenly a perfect distraction popped up. It was a notification from your ex, Lando Norris. You two hadn’t talked in a hot minute.

Hey

I thought I had blocked you

Guess not

Too bad

I heard you broke up with that other guy

Yeah lol

He seemed nice tho.

Why do you care??? You didn’t even know him

Relax, I just wanted to check up on you

Well, reminding me of how great my ex was is a great way too do it, dumbass

Why are you so fucking rude to me? You’re nice to everyone

Don’t worry, all my exes get the same treatment, you’re not special xoxo

Wow ok.

Glad to see we’re on the same page!

I don’t think we are tho

What do you mean?

Idk why you’re treating me like shit

Huh? Probably cause we’re not together anymore?

You used to be so nice to me before

Are you drunk or something? Maybe high?

No?

Then why are you not getting that I’m not going to be as loving, because we BROKE UP!

You’re so mean, I don’t recognize you

Cry about it with Jay

Who tf is Jay?

The guy I just broke up with

Oh ok. Did you change your hair colour because of it?

Yeah, it’s my post break-up look.

It looks bad.

Omg, you’re calling me rude? You’re so fck rude.

Sorry, but you should go back to the colour you had when we were dating

Did you just text me at 1 am to hate on my hair? Bitch

If you think I’m desperate for rebound sex and I’ll fall right into your bed, you’re dreaming buddy.

I just wanted to talk to you, but I don’t even know why I bother

Idk why either tbh

Do you not want to talk to me ever again?

I mean, that was the plan lol

The two years we shared together mean nothing?

They used to, yeah. That’s called moving on.

Just like you’re going to do to that guy?

Yes. If it makes you feel better, I still sleep with your hoodie sometimes, while I threw all his stuff out.

You do? That’s cute

Don’t get any ideas. I also still have the hoodie of my boyfriend before you

Wow, you sure know how to make a guy feel special

Hey, you texted me first. Idk what you expected

I expected you to be nice to me. You used to be so sweet

Don’t worry, the other guys still find me sweet xoxo

I’m so sick of your attitude. Are you trying to make me jealous or something? Or do you just like to be a bitch to me?

You’re the mean one, actually.

I think I will block you.

Do it, pussy

I don’t ever want to talk to you again

Ok wait, no. I’m sorry, Lando. For real

Thank you, finally.

I can’t believe I’m suggesting this, but would you like to grab lunch sometime? Or coffee?

Damn, ok. I did not expect that

It’s fine if you don’t want to

No, no. I want to. What about that dinner that we used to go to? Next Thursday?

Good location, can it be Thursday in two weeks tho? I want to have time to change my hair colour lmao

Okay. I’ll see you there at 12?

See you there, Lando.

Goodnight, sweet dreams

What the hell was that?

Two weeks later, your nerves were about to be the death of you. You were pacing your bedroom, frantically picking the perfect outfit. How do you dress to impress your ex you’re sure you’re going to fall right back for? You finally ended up chosing a cute dress that gave you a great silhouette.

Little did you know, Lando was doing the same, trying to find a shirt that would make him look good for you. He really wanted to make a good impression. This was kind of an interview, and he was applying for the role of the ex-boyfriend that you want to get back with.

When you entered the dinner, the déjà vu was overwhelming. Lando was already sitting at the booth that used to be your booth, the one where you first kissed, the one where he used to let his hand slide underneath your dress. You had worn a dress with that very same memory in mind.

“Hi.” You gave him a warm smile. Gosh, he looked good. He got up to give you a small hug. He smelled even better than you remembered. He seemed to think you looked nice to, judging from his eyes that looked you up and down and his slight blush.

“Hey. You look gorgeous.” He immediately noticed your hair that you had dyed back to the colour he preferred.

“You look good too, Lando. Great, even.” He seemed pleased at your comment.

“No trouble finding the place, I hope?” You laughed at his joke and you both sat down on opposite sides of the booth.

“Don’t worry, even though you did not pick me up, we’ve been here enough that I remember the directions by heart.” You stuck your tongue at him.

“I can pick you up, next time.” His eyes were full of hope.

“Next time?” This time, it was your voice that was full of hope.

The waitress interrupted you to give you the menus. You shared a knowing smile with Lando.

“Is it still a Caesar salad for you? With a side of fries?”

“And a burger for you?” You two laughed.

“It seems like things are still the same, huh?” You rested your head on your hand to give him a dreamy look.

“They haven’t changed at all, no.” He grabbed your other hand to put it in his on the table. You felt sparks at the tip of your fingers, but they quickly moved all over your body. This was going way more smoothly than you had expected. The waitress went over to note your order, and you couldn’t help but to feel thrilled at the familiarity of it all.

“So, how have you been?” Lando asked.

“Good, good, you?” Small talk was usually difficult, but it was horrible when it was with your ex.

“Good too.” Oh no, you were not about to spend the entirety of your lunch date with basic questions.

“Listen, Lando. I wanted to apologize for the other night. I was rude for no reason, and I’m sorry.” He rubbed little circles on your hand with his thumb.

“It’s fine, really. I wasn’t so nice either.” He laughed in embarrassment, but you just smiled at him.

“So, we’re good then?” You really hoped you were.

“We are good.” You shook his hand to seal the deal. The handshake hid a thousand more meanings than just “we’re good”. It was filled with “I’m glad we’re seeing each other again” and “why did we ever stop?”. The waitress brought your food, and you ate in silence for a few minutes, just enjoying the moment.

“We should get ice cream after that,” You suggested shyly. Getting ice cream was code for “I don’t want this date to stop yet”.

“That was always the plan. I’m not a cheap date.” You laughed at him.

“It would be a crime to eat here without getting ice cream after. It was our tradition when we dated, remember?” He smiled at you.

“Of course, I remember. I also remember what came after.” You instantly blushed. A typical date for you and Lando always ended in his bed.

You finished eating. Lando picked up the bill, as usual.

“Thank you for paying, Lando. You know that it can be my turn to pay sometimes?”

“Nonsense. I’m trying to impress you. Is it working?” He smirked.

“Yeah, it’s working, baby. A little too well.” You flushed, because the word baby had slipped off your tongue so easily that you didn’t notice until you saw his face. He was clearly happy to see you using it again. When he put his hand in the small of your back to guide you towards the exit, you didn’t say anything. And when you walked towards the ice cream shop and your hands brushed, you put yours in his.

“I’m going to have a small chocolate sundae please, and he’ll have a large caramel sundae. Thank you!” You ordered the ice cream, once again remembering what you two always get.

“I’m happy that we’re out here together again,” said Lando, in a moment of vulnerability. You could not resist any longer. You grabbed him by the collar of his shirt and kissed him. The kiss was sweeter than the ice cream you were about to eat. “Me too, baby. So damn happy,” you replied as you pulled away, blushing. The smile he gave you made you want to kiss him again a thousand times.

You sat near a window to enjoy your sundaes. Lando looked positively jealous of your spoon. When it was time to leave, he put your hand in his.

“I had a great time today,” he said, outside of the shop.

“Me too. Do you think we could do it again?” You asked shyly.

“Anytime.” You got on your tiptoes to lock your arms behind his neck and to kiss him. You two must have looked adorable to anyone passing by. This kiss felt exactly like the first one you and Lando shared, when you first started seeing each other. When you got back to your feet, he tucked away a few loose strands of hair behind your ear.

“I like your hair.”

“Thanks. I changed it because of you,” you replied, laughing.

“You shouldn’t have. I was just mad, the other night. You looked beautiful then too.” You looked away, embarrassed at his compliment.

“I guess I better go, then.” He immediately protested. “No don’t go yet. We can go back to my place if you’d like. Or we can just grab coffee if you prefer!” It was cute to see him rambling.

You kissed him on the cheek. “Your place is more than fine, baby.” Lando gave you a huge smile and took your hand to guide you towards his car.

“I’m glad you’re coming home with me. It’s what I was hoping for,” he said as he was opening your car door for you.

“Me too, baby. We can pick up my car tomorrow morning.” He winked at you.

“Or the next day. Or the day after.” What a flirt.

You were probably not going to stay single for very long.

#f1 fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fic #formula 1 #f1 #lando norris

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theonlyhonoredone · 4 months ago

Text

Black Beauty

Break My Heart Again Sequel

Pairing: Satoru Gojo x Reader, Suguru Geto x Satoru Gojo

Warnings: cannon typical violence, blood, death, fighting, love triangle

Summary: Suguru can't stand losing Satoru to you

Masterlist

Part 1

When Riko died Suguru was left in the dust of Satoru’s sudden jump in power. Satoru seemed to forget all the hardships of the mission, opting instead to spend all his time with y/n and Shoko while Suguru thought in endless circles about where everything went wrong. About how Satoru almost died, how he wasn’t there to help, how weak he was letting that poor girl die. He couldn’t smile anymore, could hardly force himself out of bed most days. He dreaded every mission, protecting people who didn’t know he existed and swallowing down curses that left him only with the taste of death. He dreaded coming home even more. Jujutsu high was the source of his most painful memories. It was a place where he was forgotten in favor of a girl not even half as capable as him. A girl who would have snapped under the pressure of the missions he and Satoru faced every day. A girl who was unworthy of wearing the pretty smile she’d been blessed with.

Sometimes he wondered how he turned so bitter towards her. They were good friends their first year, but as soon as he realized Satoru’s feelings for her his affection began to waver. Suguru knew, though he’d taunt her about the opposite being true, that Satoru would pick her in a heartbeat. He couldn’t exactly blame him, she was kind and funny and gorgeous, really really gorgeous. She was the only person he could ever say rivaled Satoru in terms of beauty. Suguru remembered the day they all met. He was convinced they both came from the heavens, born from some angel or perfect deity. It was intimidating. Even once he started to hate her he found himself sometimes getting caught up in thoughts about her pretty face. About how her and Satoru just somehow fit, they belonged to the same angelic race that looked down on peasants like him.

He envied their specialness. They both came from long lines of sorcerers unlike him, the poor boy from the countryside. Sure he had power, but they had legacy. He’d determined it was all in their eyes at some point. Satoru with his pretty baby blues, somehow holding more than the entire galaxy in their glowing wells. Then sweet y/n, who’s eyes seemed as deep and vast as the sprawling woods he played in as a child. The first day of their second year Satoru had commented on it to him. While they paced the campus waiting for the girls to arrive Satoru brought her up with a big goofy smile.

“I’m really excited to see y/n,” he had looked up at the sky as he spoke, probably hoping to summon her from the heavens, “I miss her eyes. I think they’re prettier than mine, you know? And that’s saying something.”

Suguru had scolded him for being vain but inside he was crumbling. Jealousy bubbled up like a volcano, red hot rage threatened to melt his entire being. He just couldn’t stand it. No one was ever going to talk about him that way, especially not Satoru. He’d never be described as some pretty divine thing like his dear friends would. He’d decided from that moment on he and y/n could no longer be friends, that he had to drive them apart so they didn’t run off and find eternal happiness without him. He grew cruel and cold, always critiquing her for her weakness and mocking her for every little mistake she made. It was his attempt to build a fence between her and him and Satoru, to place her below them. Suguru wanted it to be known that when she returned to the heavens Satoru would remain on earth with him.

It never worked though. Satoru and her crossed the line constantly, with Satoru always offering to spar with her and stay up late to help her train. She worked her hardest with him, obviously trying to progress quickly and impress him. It drove Suguru insane. Especially after Riko. The failure had sent him spiraling but Satoru was happier and stronger than ever. They were almost always together too, running off to do whatever meaningless task they’d deemed as suitable entertainment. It made him angry, despite his best efforts he was being left behind by them both just like he’d dreaded. It only took one failure to fall from grace. He’d let Riko die while Satoru managed to defeat death, and even more impressively, Toji. He was the hero, she was his princess, and Suguru had no place at the table. It made him want to scream at them both, to lock them in a room where they could never do anything to upset him again.

“Suguru,” Satoru had addressed him one evening, just after dinner.

For once it was just them again. The girls had run off together and Suguru couldn’t have been happier to have an evening of just him and Satoru. He hoped they’d spent it playing some sort of video game or doing one of the other stupid tasks Satoru enjoyed.

“Satoru,” he’d hummed in response.

The white haired boy was wearing a huge smile and Suguru was sure he was about to propose some ridiculous prank or make some smug comment. He was looking forward to it.

“I decided I’m going to ask y/n on a date,” he declared proudly, “I’m gonna get her flowers and everything. Isn’t that awesome? You’re so gonna wish you got a girlfriend first,” he started laughing as Suguru’s eyes widened, “You should see your face right now! Why are you so surprised hmm? I’m the strongest, and the hottest, an-”

“That’s a horrible idea Satoru,” he snapped, cutting him off with a scowl. “You really think dating should be a priority right now? Especially for you?”

Satoru stopped, his mouth hanging open before he frowned, “Uh, yeah, why wouldn’t I?”

“Because you’re the strongest sorcerer in the world, idiot. Anyone you date is going to have a huge target on their back, and y/n is way too weak to handle that. You should focus on growing as a sorcerer instead,” Suguru had rolled his eyes. He was trying to come at it in a logical side, hoping to persuade Satoru that this was a terrible plan without exposing his own feelings.

Satoru scoffed loudly, “You’re always calling her weak just cause she’s not as strong as us bu-”

“I call her weak because she is weak, and she always will be. I mean Toji would have killed her in a second you know? Any of the curses her fight would too a-”

“Shut up!” Satoru snapped at him, his cheeks turning red suddenly, “She isn’t weak and no one is gonna hurt her because I’m always gonna be here to protect her so it doesn’t even matter! Why are you being a dick anyway huh? You’re my best friend, you’re supposed to be happy for me.”

“I’m not happy when you make stupid, selfish decisions, Satoru. Maybe you don’t like it but I’m telling you the truth.”

“Well then screw you!” Satoru had risen from the table, sending his chair flying back behind him, “And screw the truth! I don’t wanna talk to you until you’re done being a dick!”

Satoru had stomped off somewhere and Suguru was alone again. His stomach hurt and he felt dizzy. He hardly slept a wink that night and when Satoru and you and Shoko all left for the amusement park the next day he was sure he was going to die. He sat in the day room running through scenarios for hours, thinking about how Satoru would do it. How you’d come back and announce you were a happy couple now. You’d never be apart again. He felt like an idiot for ever considering he could have won. For ruining your friendship and never confessing to Satoru and killing Riko and for every other thing that had ever gone wrong in his life. It was all piling up into some inescapable, crushing weight.

Yuki came while he was in the midst of his panic. She talked about philosophy and the world and everything that wasn’t you and Satoru. Suguru grasped onto her every word, onto every thought that wasn’t the two of you. He finally felt some peace, for the first times in months he thought he might actually be able to do something right. He’d failed at romance and friendship and sorcery, but there was more to the world than that. More to the world than the Satoru shaped bubble he was living in. Satoru could change the world with ease, but instead was thinking about a girl. Suguru couldn’t fall into the same trap, couldn’t spiral about a failed love when there was so much else he could be doing. So much he could be improving.

Suguru ran into you that evening, after a long shower. He was feeling calm for the first time in months. He offered you forgiveness. After all, you were both sorcerers. Even if you were weak compared to him, you were strong compared to the rest of the world. He wanted to tell you about his newfound philosophy, about how he’d discovered things so much more important than romance and rivalry. You couldn’t see it though, couldn’t listen to him like he hoped. He wanted to open your eyes to something more but you were stuck on Satoru, the same way he was. Suguru kissed you, partially in hopes of breaking Satoru’s spell and partially because when he wasn’t focused on hating you he remembered how pretty he’d always found you. There was no breakthrough for you though, you only screamed and drew the attention of Satoru, who yelled at Suguru and led you away under his protective arm. It still irked some part of him but he let it be, he focused on his work instead.

Suguru left the same night, but the thoughts of you and Satoru didn’t. At least not completely. He was mostly able to focus on his work, but when he laid down at night and tried to sleep, he was haunted by thoughts of you two. Of how you were together all the time and probably talking about him and what he did with disgust. Because you two didn’t understand. You two didn’t see how weak the world was or how it could change. Maybe you could see it if you weren’t focused on each other. He knew Satoru would be able to, because he’d gone through the same experience as him with Riko. Satoru was strong enough to execute his ideals, but he never would. He’d never share in them because he valued protecting weak things like you. Suguru hated how often it came back to you, how his problems and thoughts always came back to you. It was you standing in the way of him and Satoru, whether that be as an item or as revolutionaries.

Suguru concluded you had to go in order for him to bring about the new world. His best bet at success was Satoru, and Satoru would never join him while you were around. So he had to get rid of you. That would be easy enough, if he just got Satoru and you separated for some time he could do it.

His plan was simple really. Release a rather nasty curse some distance from the city, one they’d have to send Satoru to deal with. That would leave you alone, in waiting. Whenever Satoru had a mission far away you made it a point to fetch him some sort of treat for when he returned. It was a habit you’d developed just after the Riko incident. Some petty attempt to keep his spirits up. From there it was just a guessing game. You typically went either his favorite bakery or candy shop so Suguru would just have to spend some time staking out both. Eventually you’d arrive at one and it would be easy to kill you then.

Everything fell into place for Suguru, he knew luck was on his side since he was on a mission to better the world. You fell right into his trap, and though you put up more of a fight than he expected, he still won in the end. He sat over your bloody corpse, smiling as he watched the light leave your pretty, pretty eyes. You’d cried and begged him not to, tried to remind him of your long dead friendship in hopes of earning some mercy.

“Suguru please,” you’d tried to take his hand in your last moments, “Please.”

Your last words would always remain with him. Tattooed behind his eyelids. He could always recall the moment with perfect clarity. How it felt to plunge the knife into your throat, how you choked on your own blood. The little tears in your eyes and your red stained lips. The image haunted him no matter how far away it was. It was necessary though, necessary to free Satoru and kickstart the world he envisioned.

When Satoru arrived Suguru made a quick exit. He knew it would take him time to come around and he could see right away the rage building in him. As soon as the shock wore off he’d be dead so he had to flee. And wait. And wait. And wait.

Suguru waited for days, weeks, months, years, for Satoru to find him and join him. His heart grew more bitter cold the longer he waited. He resented Satoru for being so ungrateful for the gift he’d given him, for the love he’d given him. His followers understood his goals but Satoru never did, even after you were ripped from him. Satoru had grown stronger and more cruel after you died and yet never paid any respects to Suguru. Never thanked him for all he’d done, for all he was doing to better the world.

He grew to hate Satoru, viewing him as an obstacle the same way he had with you. That was why he planned the night of a thousand demons. Once he had control of Rika he’d be able to eliminate Satoru. With him gone Suguru would be crowned the strongest and he’d be able to rebuild the world how he saw fit. Finally. He was sure the two of you would see from the afterlife too. When you all reunited some day he knew you’d grovel and apologize and the three of you would find some peace in eternity.

It was bittersweet, facing his end at the hands of true love. He’d lost sight of Yuta and Rika, but he saw you and Satoru in that moment. He could swear he heard your voice, some remnant of you on the wind, whispering to him that you’d brought this fate to him. You’d cursed him somehow, forcing him to face death at the hands of the catalyst. He couldn’t do anything but laugh in the end. He sank into some hidden corner of the school grounds, muttering to you about how he couldn’t believe you’d come back. That after all this time you’d still managed to win.

“Suguru,” Satoru’s voice was cold and sharp, Suguru turned his head up to see him staring down at him. With his eyes uncovered and his hair a mess he looked so much more like he had in their youth.

“Satoru,” he barely mustered a smile, “I’m glad to see you in my last moments.”

Satoru stared down at him, his lips pulled to a thin line, “Are you suffering? Does it hurt?”

“Everywhere,” he confirmed.

“Good,” Satoru bent to his eye level, “You should be grateful you only faced Yuta, I would have made it much worse.”

“Do you still think about her?” Suguru asked, “You know I was always jealous about how she got all your attention.’

“She was the love of my life. I think about her all the time,” Satoru paused. They were both quiet for a long time. “Is that why you did it? Jealousy?”

“I guess, maybe, that was some of it,” Suguru nodded, “Mostly I wanted to help you. I thought if she was gone you’d understand why I wanted to fix the world. Weak things aren’t worth protecting.”

Satoru sat, crossing his legs and leaning back on his arms, “Even if she was the weakest little fly on the planet I always would have thought she was worth protecting. That’s what true love is you know? I don’t think you’re capable of feeling that.”

Suguru scoffed, “I loved you for a long time Satoru I-”

“I loved you too Suguru, I loved both of you a lot,” he let out a long sigh and cast his eyes upwards, “I never would have done what you did though, and neither would she. When it’s real love you don’t hurt them, and you know no one’s ever hurt me as bad as you have. So I know you don’t love me, maybe at some point you did, but that changed. It’s okay though, I don’t love you either, in fact I hate you. I don’t think I’ve ever hated anyone as much as I hate you,” he looked back down at Suguru. It was the only time Suguru ever saw his pretty blue eyes holding tears, “I don’t think it’s normal to love people the way I loved her you know? I think sometimes it was too much because I can never move on. And as much as I love her, that’s how much I hate you. So I’m happy you’re dying, I’m happy I’m going to watch you die. I hope you spend the rest of eternity suffering Suguru.”

“Careful Satoru, I might curse you if you say that,” Suguru laughed bitterly, he knew there were probably tears staining his cheeks as well but he couldn’t feel anything anymore, “I always loved you, I thought, but maybe you’re right. Maybe I just hated you both. I don’t know anymore, but I’m glad that if anyone’s going to watch me die it’s you, Satoru.”

“Yeah, me too.”

They stopped speaking after that. Satoru sat in silence across from Suguru, watching him until his eyes fell closed and his chest stopped rising.

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mcytadventevent · 24 days ago

Text

@splish--splash--minecraft is creating for Day 12:

Prompt: Closest Friends

His piece is written, featuring Grian and Scar!

Credit Links:

https://archiveofourown.org/users/SalixWrites

https://www.tumblr.com/splish--splash--minecraft

(Piece under the cut!)

The air is quiet and still as Grian slips out of his room. He glances up at the moon, high in the sky, then over to the gate where he can see Martyn keeping watch. It was supposed to be his turn to do so, but he’d managed to get his way out of it. He had things to do - not that any of them were supposed to know what exactly.

He looks away from Martyn and pulls his pickaxe out so he can quickly mine his way through, out of sight of Martyn. If he found out he was up and going somewhere else, he’d make Grian take watch for sure. And, well, he doesn’t want to do that, so sneaking away it is.

He supposes he may not necessarily have to sneak out. If any of them were to see him, he’s sure they’d correctly guess that he’s going to see Scar. He’s sure they’d tease him about it, too. Sure, he and Scar aren’t teamed this time around, but…he spent so much time with Scar before that it felt…weird to not be near him. To not hear the sound of his breathing as they slept in their home in the desert.

He and Scar had always been close, but something seemed to have changed between them in that sandy biome. They got even closer, having spent so much time together and working together for so long, only able to rely on the other. Grian felt like he couldn’t trust anyone except for him, and now he felt bereft without him.

Teaming with other people was probably for the best, but Grian would be lying if he said he didn’t miss the comfort of Scar.

So every few nights, especially if he hadn’t seen him that day, Grian takes a little trip to Magic Mountain to visit Scar. By this point, Scar has come to expect him. Usually, they don’t do much - mainly just having the other near is enough. This time, though, Grian’s got another reason to go: his wings are in desperate need of a preening.

Normally, perhaps he’d go to Jimmy - the only other avian - or even Mumbo, who has preened his wings many times. But after 3rd life, when all he had was Scar, who often preened them for him, he missed the feeling of his hands running through his feathers as he straightened them.

Grian tries to be quiet as he makes his way to Magic Mountain. He kind of hates where Scar has made his base, though the trek also reminds him a little of Monopoly Mountain. Except here it’s cold, and he shivers a little as he climbs. He has a moment to be grateful that at least there aren’t many mobs around.

And then he’s outside the Wizard’s Hut. He raises his hand to knock, but the door opens before he even gets the chance. And there’s Scar, with that smile of his, leaning against the doorway.

“Fancy seeing you here,” he says, and Grian doesn’t bother to resist the urge to roll his eyes.

“Let me in, it’s cold.”

“Of course, of course,” Scar says, though he doesn’t actually move. Grian raises an eyebrow. “We wouldn’t want you to get cold.”

“Yeah, so move over.”

Scar opens his mouth, and Grian knows him well enough by now that he’s going to say something ridiculous, like how they should make a trade for Grian to come in, and he is absolutely not having any of that. So before Scar can get even a single word in, he’s shoving past him into the hut, which is much warmer. Scar laughs.

“So impatient! I’m a wizard, y’know, sometimes you gotta make trades -”

“Here’s a trade for you: either you let me in, or I leave.”

Scar frowns. “That’s not really a trade…”

“Oh my god, shut up,” Grian groans, but he can’t stop the amused huff that follows after. Were it anyone else, he probably would have left. But this is Scar, and he knows Scar. He probably knows him better than anyone else here.

Scar chuckles, then steps forward to pull Grian closer into a hug. Grian tucks his head under his chin and sighs contentedly, arms coming up to wrap around him. Scar hums, hands idly running through the feathers on his wings. “You’ll let me preen these for you, right? It hurts me just to look at them.”

“Yeah, that's why I came tonight.” His feathers fluff up a little, and he pulls away. “C’mon, I don’t know how much longer I can stand them feeling like this.”

He makes his way over to the bed and plops onto it, Scar following him. He pulls his red sweater off, leaving just a white shirt underneath that’s open in the back to allow for easy access to his wings.

Scar gets situated behind him and gets started immediately, beginning with just running his hands over the feathers. Certainly not something he needs to do, he just knows that Scar likes how his feathers feel. After a moment, though, he flaps his wings a little in an attempt to tell Scar to get to work.

He does, luckily. Starting at the top of one wing, he works his way down, straightening the feathers and pulling out any loose ones. Grian winces slightly, but it gets easier as he gets into the rhythm, and Grian closes his eyes and relaxes as his feathers get smoothed and put back into place, dirt and whatever else picked out. Before he knows it, he’s starting to doze off.

He’s not sure how much time has passed when he rouses slightly at the feeling of fingers rubbing the feathers between his wings. He whines and leans back until he’s leaning against Scar, squinting up at him.

“Sleepy bird,” Scar teases, grinning down at him. Grian just sticks his tongue out at him. “I always forget how sleepy it makes you.”

Grian grumbles. “Yeah, yeah. Are you done?” He stands, stretching his arms and wings out.

“Yup, your wings are as good as new!” Scar ducks out of the way of his wings, then gets off of the bed. “I assume you’re staying for the night?” His voice is a little quieter, and Grian turns to him.

“Yeah, ‘course. I’m not coming all the way up here just to get my wings preened then immediately leave. It’s cold out there, plus there’ll be a lot of mobs. I got lucky on my way here, but I’m not risking anything by going out there again.”

Scar seems to relax a little, and grins at him. “Well, good! It’s very dangerous out there, you need to get some sleep.”

“In your single bed,” Grian notes, sitting back down on it.

Scar shrugs. “Never stopped us last time.”

Grian hums. It’s certainly true, at least. They’d started with two beds in 3rd life, but the desert was cold at night, so they took to just sharing a single bed. So Grian shrugs and lays down, Scar joining him a beat later. It’s a little cramped, but they make do, with Scar pulling him closer until Grian is practically laying across him. Grian huffs, but lays his head on his chest and holds him close in return, their legs nearly tangled together.

It was still a little cold in the hut, but here in Scar’s arms he feels warm. It feels a lot like 3rd life. He closes his eyes. The last thing he feels before he falls asleep is Scar pressing a kiss to the top of his head.

In the morning, a little before the sun rises, Grian will have to go back to the Southlands. Preferably before anyone notices he’s gone. But for now, he can relax with Scar and forget about where they are, even if for just a moment.

#life series #trafficblr #mcytblr #chirstmas #holidays #winter #advent #advent calendar #MCYT Advent 2024 #MCYT Advent #Countdown #Day Twelve #grian #goodtimeswithscar

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gilverrwrites · 7 months ago

Note

Has anyone requested the NSFW alphabet for Boomerang yet? 👉👈 If not, then please? 🥺

You’re the first! I had a lot of fun with this one, hope you enjoy.

As always; take what you vibe with, leave what you don’t, and most importantly, have fun with it 💙

Captain Boomerang NSFW Alphabet

18+ MINORS DNI

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

He's awful after sex, cause he's almost immediately ready to sleep straight after. It’s like a routine, sex, roll-up, sleep, repeat.

He likes to hear you talk after though, it’s like the only time he shuts his trap, watching you through half-lidded eyes, cig between his lips, listening to your pillow talk as he drifts off.

B = Body part (their favourite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

For him: This man has more to give than he thinks. We know he has a big dick, he knows it too. And his hands are so skilled, so dexterous and fast. He works hard to maintain that broad shoulder to skinny waist ratio that drives them crazy. He’s never gotten a tattoo that he regrets…

But I genuinely believe his favourite part of himself is something silly, like his left ear-lobe, cause whenever he rubs it for luck before a heist it always goes well.

For his partner: he’s a tit man. He likes a nice jiggly ass, likes kissing soft lips, likes feeling your hands on him, but nothing beats rubbing his dick between a nice big, cushiony pair of breasts. He’s not biased, no matter the size or perkiness, he’s not listening to a word out of your mouth cause he’s too busy picturing how much they will or won’t bounce when you ride him, what your nipples feel like on his tongue, he likes all tits, but he especially likes the ones big enough to envelop his dick when he fucks them.

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

Digs is fucking messy, I’m telling you. There’s nowhere on your body he doesn’t want to cum on. Your chest, your hair, your pretty face. Loves when you don’t wash it off straight away, when you let it sit and dry and soak into your skin until he can really smell it on you, that’s hot.

If you’re more adventurous, he’s always down. You want him to cum in your morning coffee, into your open eyes, you want to snort that shit? He’s down. He laughs, says “An people think I’m the dirty one, you’re somethin’ else girlie” as he shoves his hand down his boxers, fisting his already half-hard cocky

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

It’s no secret that he’s a thief, big-time or petty. But he doesn’t tell you that he likes to ‘steal’ your dirty undies. When you’re not around he jerks himself to them, pressing the crotch up to his nose, holding them between his teeth and sucking any remnants of your juices out as he fucks his hand. Sometimes he tries them on, wears them under his sweats all day.

When you come home to clean laundry, you’re happily suprised and none the wiser, if not frustrated that your waistbands seem to be wearing thin and loose too often

E = Experience (how experienced are they? Do they know what they’re doing?)

Not a playboy, but still experienced. He's not so good at chatting people up or the dating part, so few people get his sense of humour. But he’s not bad-looking, and he’s pretty good at being in just the right place at the right time to be picked up for a one-night stand.

He’s also pretty good at the ‘hate me so much you wanna fuck me’ kind of seduction with other rogues, he doesn't know how to be classically flirty and romantic, but he knows how to push those sexual frustration buttons.

He knows what he’s doing in the bedroom, although, a lot of it comes from muscle memory and dutch-courage. Throw him stone-cold sober into bed with someone he really likes and he’s a nervous mess, forgetting everything he’s ever done until the two of you get onto the same wavelength.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Hear me out: reverse cowgirl, on the couch, so you can both watch TV.

But also, cowgirl - so he can watch your tits sway, and cause you look so hot above him.

And The Captain/V for victory, unironically.

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? Are they humorous? etc.)

Digs hasn’t taken anything seriously since, well, he can’t remember. His dad must have knocked the memory right out of him.

No, but really, he’s so goofy all the time, sometimes it’s related, sometimes it ain’t.

He’ll be buried between your legs, your sex still in his mouth when he asks what you had for dinner, cause he thinks he can taste it.

Grinding on the couch when he tells you “Before you ask, that is a boomerang in my pocket. But he’s happy to see you too.”

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? Does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

Not well groomed at all, he has a delicious little russet happy trail that leads to a bush around the base of his cock, and on his balls. He always intends on keeping it trimmed down but he just forgets to do it.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? The romantic aspect)

It’s a healthy mix, for Boomer, sex is a fun pastime. It’s a chance for you both to feel good, to service each other and make each other laugh, which is definitely romantic and intimate in its own right, but it’s not always like that.

Sometimes he drinks too much, or has a shitty run of jobs, or both, and he uses your body as a stress relief, or sometimes he pushes you too much, riles you up with the intention of you getting rough with him; sometimes he just wants it to hurt, othertimes he wants a fight, whatever it is, it’s not healthy or romantic

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

Nobody ever taught Boomer that it’s rude to touch yourself around others. He really doesn’t see the issue. If you’re not around, or not in the mood, he’s gonna do it himself.

If you tell him not to he’ll get all petulant and keep ‘rearranging’ himself, or complain about blue balls.

Anyway, if he’s hard and you’re not fucking him, he’s fucking himself, end of.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Boomer will try anything at least 3 times, cause 3rd times the charm an all, maybe more if he’s not done it with you before.

The stuff he knows he likes: Piss (pissing and receiving), face sitting, impact play (again giving and receiving), role play, public sex, maybe a bit of breeding and somnophilia.

L = Location (favourite places to do the do)

Anywhere, any time. He likes doing it in private where you can take your time, drag it out, and be as loud as you like, but there’s a certain risk factor to public sex that really gets him going. Something about the potential humiliation, the time limit, the forcing each other to keep quiet as you bang it out in secrecy.

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

Literally the drop of a hat. He wakes up every morning with a hard-on that he’s gotta relieve, and then he’s done for a couple of hours while lil’ Digger catch’s-up. He knows he’s ready again when he sees you bend over, or he catches a glimpse of your cleavage, when he remembers that banana you ate for breakfast 2 weeks ago, remember that? That was sexy, wanna eat my banana?

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

The obvious: no animals or children.

I don’t think he actively seeks out scat or emetophilia but if it happens it happens, it’s only shit/sick, we all do it from time to time, no use crying about it, you know?

He’s into impact play, but I reckon he’s really not into doing it with a belt, or being put over someone’s knee.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

It took the longest time to convince him to try eating you out. Yeah, he’ll try anything, but like, men don’t do that. He’s always been surrounded by toxic masculinity, his dad, other criminals, etc

But man once he tried, you had the opposite problem of trying to get him to stop. Something so illicit about the way you taste on his tongue, something intoxicating about the way your body reacts to every little move, “fuck darl’ you taste better than my first tinnie, we’ve gotta do that again.”

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Slow and sensual isn’t out of the question, especially if it’s a) late at night and you’re both too drunk for anything else. b) early in the morning and you’re both too hungover for anything else.

But any other time it’s fast and rough. He’s snapping your hips together so hard they slap, grabbing and groping all your softest spots. He fucking loves it when you dig your nails into his back, or when you pull the hair at the nape of his neck.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Yes! See L = Location. But it’s not limited to risky public sex in alleyways or public bathrooms. Sometimes he wants a quickie cause one of you is leaving and he just has to be inside you, even for a moment before you’re separated. Sometimes he’s so desperate and you’re so tired, he promises he’ll be real fast, he just needs you, he’d do it himself but you feel so much better.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? Do they take risks? etc.)

Always game to try new things. Loves risk (again L=location), loves to do it in places with a high risk of getting caught.

If you’re also a thief/rogue, just imagine, robbing a jewellery store with a few minutes to spare, so you hop up on a counter and make love amongst your I’ll-gotten gains, in front of the CCTV before making your getaway.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? How long do they last?)

Mid-day is when his stamina is at its peak. His brains too fuzzy in the mornings, he gets pussy drunk and cums almost instantly. Then he spends all day drinking, and it feels like nothing cause it’s just beer, but if he has enough he’ll hit a point where he struggles to get it up no matter how bad he wants it.

T = Toys (do they own toys? Do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

Again, he’s down for anything a few times. He’s a fan of:

anal toys (again, super into you receiving again, hard sell on flipping the script until he tried it and loved it),

impact toys,

and those remote control vibes that he can set off while you’re out in public, again it’s the risk factor, but he also learned he can deviously use it to his advantage for other things.

“No Digger I’m not buying you an- OH, uhhhh.” “Sorry babe, don’t know what you’re sayin’. I’ll get two.”

“Oh look, there’s Snart, we should go say hhhhhhhhhhh.” “You sure you wanna do that?”

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

He’s not a tease in the physical sense, because denying you would mean denying himself and he’s a glutton.

He is a verbal tease though, and likes to make fun of you. “Awh, you’re cute when you’re cock drunk.”

“Fuck, you like that don’t ya? Yeah? Say it or I’ll stop.” - he won’t stop, it’s an empty threat.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

Does not shut the fuck up. Chats such shit the whole time, just to hear the sound of his own voice until it feels too good to say real words, and then he makes the prettiest little whimpers and cries as he chases his orgasm.

Examples: “fuck, you’re so wet, sure you haven’t pissed yourself? It’s okay if you did.”

“Ooohhh shhiiiit, darl’ you feel so good, take it all, take it all, yeah yeah yeah.”

“I’m gonna cum, I’m gonna cum, where do you want it, baby? Tell me where to cum? Hurry baby it’s ah-“

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

Would love if you could come to some kind of cnc somnophilia agreement. His work keeps him out late, sometimes for days, weeks, months at a time. When he comes home he just wants to lose himself between your legs either with his tongue or his cock, but you look so peaceful, and he knows you’ve probably barely slept since he left, too worried about him. It would be perfect if he could just have his way with you while letting you sleep.

Great fantasy but in practice, he’s too rough and sloppy and noisy, you’d be awake in no time. Not to mention there’s no way he’s bottoming out inside you without help.

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

As previously mentioned, hairy. Bigger than average, around 8-9 inches, and thicker than you’d expect because he’s uncut for sure.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

High, like he’s not inhuman, he physically can’t have a boner all the time, but he can and will get it up as much as he possibly can.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

Almost instantly, even if it's just a quickie in the middle of the day, he gives it his all and then he's ready to wrap you up in his arms and conk out.

#captain boomerang hcs #captain boomerang smut #captain boomerang x reader #captain boomerang #george harkness #george digger harness x reader #george digger harkness #x reader #headcanons #ssktjl #dc #gilverrwrites #long post

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alittlebitofloveliness · 7 months ago

Note

you should absolutely write the genderbent outsiders fic, it would be so interesting to see how many things get changed. often people genderbend one person and just turn them into someone everyone's attracted to rather than looking at character, or they do change everyone but it's still all surface level changes but from what i've seen you seem like you'd do something really interesting with it

(no pressure obviously but it's a really cool idea especially with the attitudes of the outsiders (how would the scene where they meet cherry and marcia play out for example?))

HI! Ok so I do love this idea but I dont have time to wrote a full fic with the nuance it deserves but I did write out two little scenes for it so I'll post them here! One is lifted almost directly from the book its just the genderben take on it :)

“Speaking of movies,” Dalia flicked away her cigarette butt, “I’m thinking of walkin’ over to the nightly double tomorrow night. Might find someone to fool around with. Anyone wanna come?”

Stella shook her head. “The boys are takin’ me and Soda to the game.”

She didn’t need to look at me the way she did then. I wasn’t gonna try and stick around or nothing. I liked Soda’s boy, James, well enough and sometimes they’d offer me and Dar to go with them when they went to do stuff, but I wasn’t gonna try and third wheel. I’d never admit it, because Soda really likes Stella a lot, but sometimes I hate her. She doesn’t need to be half so possessive as she is over everything all the time- and Soda is my sister.

Darlene sighed, just like I knew she would. Darlene never had time to do anything with us anymore. “I have a date tomorrow night.”

She sounded less than enthused at the prospect, and Soda and I shared a look. Ever since mom and dad died, Darlene had spent nearly every night she wasn’t working going on various dates, with each guy seemingly worse than the last- and much as she tried to hide it, it wasn’t hard for Soda and me to guess why. It kind of killed me that my once vivacious sister, who’d always been so fiercely independent, was throwing herself at every mediocre guy who looked her way trying to find someone to provide for her, for us. On her own, Darlene would never consider marriage, at twenty no less, but now she had Soda to support for another year and me for another four and we all knew her two jobs were barely covering bills already. Sometimes the guilt of it, what Dar had already given up and what she was further prepared to lose made me so guilty and sad I couldn’t stand it. I knew Soda felt the same way.

Dalia just rolled her eyes. She only went on dates when it suited her, and only to cause trouble. She didn’t get Dar’s obsession with finding a good man- or if she did, she clearly didn’t respect it.

“What about the rest of y’all? Two-bit? Jennygirl? You an’ Pony wanna come?”

“Me’n Jenny’ll come,” I knew Jenny wouldn’t open her mouth unless she was forced to, “Okay Dar?”

***************

“You make sure she gets her ass straight home, Soda,” Darlene says, “I mean it.”

I roll my eyes and she fixes me with an icy glare.

“Don’t get huffy with me, Ponygirl. You’re lucky you ain’t grounded. You know better than to be goin’ to the movie house alone.”

“But-”

“No buts,” she fixes me with a stern glare. If it weren't for how cold her eyes are she could be real pretty with her tumble of smoky curls and delicate nose. Now though, she just looks mean, like Tamina Shepard or one of the other girls who date the gang leaders round town, “you ain’t a boy Pony, you gotta quit goin’ around actin’ like one.”

#the outsiders #ponyboy curtis #darry curtis #sodapop curtis #steve randle #two bit mathews #johnny cade #dallas winston

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amazingmsme · 10 days ago

Text

Something in the Air

AN: let’s pretend I posted this yesterday like I wanted. But this year really didn’t feel like Christmas & I’m desperately trying to chase that festive feeling. I hope y’all had a great holiday tho! Please enjoy this lil Klaus fic, I’ve wanted to write something for this movie ever since I first saw it & finally got around to it. Just a short & silly lil fic, nothing too crazy. Not sure if Alva’s ooc, but I like the idea of her being completely smitten with the new cringe fail mailman so I went with that. Mogens ships them so hard, but really it’s just more fuel for teasing. Merry late Christmas, & happy holidays!

For years, Alva has wanted nothing more than to leave this loathsome, frozen wasteland of hate where dreams come to die. She thought teaching in a northern village at the edge of the world would be charming, quaint even.

Except it was pure and utter hell from the moment she arrived. Mogens even stooped so low as to pull the battle bell trick on her: an innocent, bright eyed teacher who just wanted to know where all the children were.

"Well, you gotta ring the school bell. How else will they know class is in session?"

"Shouldn't the bell be attached to the school?" she questioned, eying the rusty bell warily, holding the rope in a loose grip.

"Sadly, this was all we could afford," Mogens sighed sadly and shook his head. Alva shrugged, and pulled the rope.

She shuddered at the memory, cursing the ferryman under her breath. Sometimes, his jokes went too far, but that's just classic Mogens.

As she looked around, things didn't seem so bad. Sure she'd chipped away at half of her saving by now, but the more the thought about it, the more she wanted to stay. And now, there was actually a reason to. Those kids needed her. And they were the spark that she needed in her life.

But... surely another spark wouldn't hurt.

She found herself thinking about Jesper more than she cared to admit, hell, she was doing it now. But there was just something about him that drew her in. Sure he was a bit whiny and stuck up, but he had a tender heart. And if it weren't for him, she wouldn't be walking home from school with a smile on her face.

It was the greatest gift anyone could have given her.

If anyone asked, Alva would say her cheeks were so flushed from the cold. Definitely no other reason.

She had to stop by the store to grab a few things, noticing a pack of Christmas cards by the checkout. She grabbed them on a whim, tossing them onto the counter along with the loaf of bread and milk. She didn't even know what she'd do with them, they just looked pretty, and Christmas was right around the corner.

She supposed she could give one to Mogens. For the longest time, he was the closest thing she had to a friend, despite all the jokes made at her expense. He offered begrudging support whenever she needed it, and conversation when she was lonely. A card would be nice. Not that he'd ever admit it. He'll probably laugh at it.

Oh well, he could use some holiday cheer.

And if she was giving one to him, then she should absolutely give one to Jesper. It would just be plain rude not to! And to be completely honest, she bought them with him in mind. He was doing so much for everyone else, but what had he gotten in return?

The woodsman also deserved a card. Such a recluse could use a bit of human connection and kindness. She wasn't quite sure, but something told her that he would appreciated the sentiment.

As she made her list, she came to a stunning realization. They had a postman. An honest to God, working postman who didn't leave after a month. Which meant that she could actually send a card to her family.

Tears welled in her eyes as she realized that for once, there would still be a mailman around by the time they send a response.

~~~

Envelopes in hand, she waltzed right into the post office. Mogens leaned on the counter, chatting with Jesper as he tried his best to ignore him. He heard the doorbell chime, calling out, "Just a minute," as he finished organizing his desk. He turned around expecting to see another child, lighting up when he saw Alva instead.

"Well hello stranger! Fancy seeing you here," he teased. She couldn't help but roll her eyes. Mogens snorted, clearly amused.

"Hi Jesper, Mogens," the tone of her greeting shifted drastically depending on who was addressed. "I just need to mail some letters."

"Really? That's a shock, I didn't know you had friends," the ferryman chuckled snidely.

She fixed him with a harsh glare, sneering, "Like you do?"

"Sure, got three of 'em, right here," he drawled.

Jesper opened his mouth to speak, "Aw, that's-"

"And their names are me myself and I. Ha!" He barked out a laugh at his own joke, slapping a hand on his knee.

"Heeey!" Jesper scolded, which only made him laugh harder.

"Don't worry, you're working your way up to an acquaintance," he taunted. Jesper rolled his eyes, crossing his arms with a huff.

"Lucky me."

Alva watched the exchange with a fond expression, a smirk playing at her lips. Mogens caught her staring and shot her a wink. Her eyes widened and a blush spread across her cheeks. Her blush darkened when he proceeded to prod Jesper's side, earning a loud shriek.

"Lighten up, will ya!" he teased, smirking in response to the mailman's glare, but it didn't hold a candle to Alva's steely gaze. Not that it was a competition or anything.

"I'll pass," Jesper deadpanned, negated by the smile twitching at his lips. Mogens shrugged, walking backwards towards the door.

"Alright then. I'll leave you to your mail," he waved goodbye before shutting the door, leaving the pair alone.

"What's that supposed to mean? Like, why'd he say it like that? Mail," he mocked, smiling proudly when Alva giggled.

"Oh you know how he is," she shook her head, leaning against the front desk. "But believe it or not, I really do have something to mail."

"Do you now?" he asked, quirking an brow.

She pulled the envelopes out of her pocket, and his eyes lit up.

"Four somethings! You know, I think this is a new record," he mused as he took the small stack from her. He began stamping, but something caught his eye. "Wait, what's this? Is- is this my name?" he asked, pointing at the letter clearly marked Jesper Johansson in fancy letters.

"Well would you look at that, the postman can read," she taunted to distract from her own growing embarrassment.

"Oho, we're gonna play that game, are we? In that case, I think I'll read it right now," he countered, making sure to stamp it before reaching for the letter opener.

"You can't read that right now!" she sounded just a smidge more frantic than she was going for, but it made Jesper stop in his tracks.

"Uuuh, why not?" he asked.

"Because... it's a Christmas card, so you have to wait!" she justified.

"Ha! That silly little rule only applies to children and presents. Everyone knows that," he brushed her off, tearing open the envelope.

The last thing Alva wanted was to be standing there while he read what she wrote. It was sappy and cheesy, and she even drew a Christmas tree! He was supposed to read it at home, when she was nowhere around to see his reaction!

Alva acted quickly, snatching the card from his hands just as he was about to open it. "Hey, what gives!"

"I told you what gives," she smirked triumphantly. She hopped up to sit on his desk, swinging her feet as she hummed a Christmas song. Jesper eyed her from behind, moving ever so slowly before suddenly reaching out to snatch it from her grasp.

"Aha! I win!" he proclaimed, waving the card in the air. Alva yelped when he yanked it away, spinning around to face him.

"Give that back!"

"See, I really would, buuuut, you mailed this to me, so I'd need a return stamp to give it back, and I'm fresh out," he explained, sporting an exaggerated pout to aid in the lie, even if he knew it wouldn't fool her for a second.

"Don't need it back, just want you to wait 'til Christmas," she bargained. Jesper looked from Alva, to the card, then back to Alva.

"And if I don't..." he trailed off, looking expectantly.

She remembered the way he jumped when Mogens poked his side and smirked.

"Then I'll do this." Rather than explain herself, she lunged forward, skittering her fingers up his ribs. He squealed and threw himself against the back wall to get away.

"NOHO! How did you even kno- Mogens!" he gasped at the realization. He tickled him in front of Alva on purpose! He was sure of it!

"To be honest, I probably would've figured it out," she said casually, as though she wasn't currently taking him apart. "You just look like you'd be crazy ticklish," she couldn't help but tease.

Jesper flailed and yelped as she moved to his belly, doubling over in laughter.

"Thahahat's like thehe meanest thihihing you've ehever said tohoho mehehe!" he whined, slowly sinking to the floor. She followed him, kneeling beside him.

"Really? 'Cause I meant it as a compliment." And she did. He was awkward and lanky, with a dorky smile and goofy laugh; how could he be anything other than incredibly sensitive?

Jesper's blush darkened at her words, and he curled into a protective ball on the ground. He swatted weakly at her hands, bubbly giggles spilling out.

"Wehehell ihihit's not aha very good one!" he managed to speak through his laughter, so clearly she wasn't tickling enough.

"What, you don't agree?" she cooed, reaching up to scribble behind his ears. Jesper let out a loud snort, immediately slapping not one, but both hands over his mouth. Alva didn't bother hiding her delight, "Oho my God, you snort, too? That's adorable!"

Jesper was sure he was going to die. What a way to go: tickled to death by his (admittedly kinda mean) crush. Arguably worse than freezing to death, and with none of the dignity.

He shook his head frantically, muffled squeals and snorts mingling with his trapped laughter.

"No? Then what would you call it?" she taunted, but Jesper was nothing if not a stubborn brat.

"Hohow about ugly and stupid?" Even though he meant what he said, he really did mean it as a joke. Maybe even garner up enough sympathy to make her stop.

"What did you just say?"

Uh oh.

"I-I uh-"

Clearly that was the wrong thing to say.

"You don't need to be so hard on yourself, Jesper. Take it back," she demanded. He opened his mouth to argue, but twitching fingers along his waist drew out a bark of laughter instead.

"OHOKAY, FINE! You wihihin! I'll dohoho ahahanythihing you wahahant!" he pleaded, unsure how long he could last under such torture. Alva hummed in thought, smirking proudly.

"Anything, huh?" she asked, giggling when Jesper merely groaned. "How about you just save that card for Christmas, and we'll call it even."

"Even? HA! You call that round of torture getting even? For a- a joke! Yeah right, I think you just enjoy bullying me," he complained more so just to be dramatic.

"Yeah well, you make it pretty easy," she drawled, offering him a hand up. He glared at her for a moment before accepting the gesture.

"What're you talking about? I didn't do anything!"

"That's what makes it so easy," she shot back, leaving him speechless. She slipped his Christmas card back in the opened envelope and handed it back.

"You..." he trailed off, shaking the card in her direction in a chastising motion, "Are a piece of work."

She smirked and gave a small shrug. "Aw, thank you!"

"Y'know, I think you might have your compliments and your insults mixed up," he teased, watching as she slowly made her way to the door.

"Or maybe you do."

Jesper had no time to question what she meant before she slipped out the door, back into the cold.

#merry christmas #christmas fic #jesper johansson #alva #mogens #klaus 2019 #klaus #klaus fic #klaus tickle fic #ticklish!jesper

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mulloey · 6 months ago

Text

revelations • jongho

jongho hates you, so you hate him too — until you don’t

request by anon: enemies to lovers with jongho

word count: 5k

tags: enemies to lovers, friend group!ateez, ateez are fed up, reader almost fucks san, arguments, confessions, make up sex. dom!jongho, some dirty talk, kind of condescending!jongho, unprotected sex, mentioned dirty talk, the L word

—————

The familiar sound of your best friend’s ringtone wakes you — a loud, thumping bass track, chosen by him specifically to be unavoidable, pulling you from your slumber without grace or a moment to adjust. You groan, cursing to yourself as you roll over. Your eyes are still half-closed as you grab the phone, pressing the button to accept the call.

“Hello?” You say groggily.

A loud laugh crackling down the line wakes you further, making you jump. “Did you just wake up?” He giggles. “It’s 3PM, dude.”

“Whatever,” you mutter. Seeing he’s right about the time you sigh, forcing yourself to sit up. You’d struggled to sleep last night, as you have every night this week; you don't know why, though your best friend insists that an inability to sleep means someone is dreaming about you. But that’s stupid, you think. No one is dreaming about you. “What did you want, Wooyoung?”

Wooyoung, who’d still been giggling to himself and — if you’re hearing correctly — bickering with his roommate even as he takes the call, pauses briefly before he answers. “Oh yeah,” he says. “We’re all meeting tonight. Be here at 6, alright?”

You nod to yourself. It’ll be good to get out of the house, you think, to see your friends and hang out together. Or it would be good, if it weren’t for…

“Will Jongho be there too?” You ask. Just saying his name stresses you out.

You’re not sure how to describe your relationship with Jongho — tumultuous, would be the best word. While you’d gotten on fine, even well at first, one day it had just started to… shift. He’d gone from friendly and open to cold, blunt and reserved around you, and since then it had only gotten worse. You’re certain he hates you now; whenever you’re together, bickering, cheap insults and even full-on arguments seem to follow — he always has something negative to say, some cheap shot to throw and he always manages to provoke you into throwing one back. Yeah, you’re certain he hates you. But you don’t have a single clue why.

You hear Wooyoung groan when you bring him up and you feel a twinge of guilt; you know the feud between you pulls at the fabric of the entire group, and you know the others are stressed too. “I’m sorry, Woo,” you say. “I wish it wasn’t like this, I just…”

He sighs. “Yeah, I know. He started this, you’re just returning it.”

“Yeah.” You realise when you say it that your tone is almost… mournful and you frown, confused. It’s true that hatred isn’t quite the only thing you feel for Jongho — but as it’s clearly the only thing he feels for you, you find it better to ignore any other emotions that may linger beneath the surface — better to deny they exist at all. Doesn’t make it, or him, any less confusing and you’re pretty sure Wooyoung’s picked up on that; probably a long time ago, if you know your observant, if a little nosy friend as well as you think.

“Don’t worry,” Wooyoung says, sounding sympathetic. “But you need to fix it soon or the whole group’s gonna fall apart. Hongjoong’s been talking about locking you in a room together til it’s sorted.”

You bite back a laugh — a dry, humourless laugh because fat lot of good that would do, Hongjoong. You sometimes think that the presence of the others is the only thing that stops you two from actually lunging at each other. Forcing you to be alone is the last thing either of you, or indeed the entire friend group, needs.

“That won’t be necessary,” you say and he makes a noise of hesitant agreement. “I’ll be civil.”

“Please do,” Wooyoung says, laughing shallowly. “Cus if this goes on for much longer I swear Joong’s gonna start whooping you both.”

You snort, shaking your head. “I’ll behave if he does,” you say. “See you later, Woo.”

—————

You arrive just before 6 to find Wooyoung and his roommate, San, waiting outside the building for you. They light up as you approach them, greeting you with warm smiles.

“Hey guys,” you laugh. You hand Wooyoung the bag of snacks he’d asked you to bring and he grabs it excitedly, peeking around inside eagerly. Turning to San, he offers you another small smile and you feel yourself flush.

You won’t deny you have a little crush on San, but it’s only natural, you think; he’s always been extremely attractive, and in recent years he’s become extremely muscular — so it’s only natural for you to picture him using that strength on you, right? You definitely don’t have feelings for him, and you’re not going to act on your desires anyway — there’s a strict rule in this group not to mingle, as they call it — so it’s not like there’s any harm in wanting him.

He throws an arm around your shoulder and ruffles your hair, apparently completely oblivious to the blush on your face as he guides you inside.

Walking in, you see the other six have already arrived and have taken their usual places in the living room. The coffee table is littered with snacks and drinks, surrounding a monopoly board that’s already been set up. You hold back a groan; board games bring out the worst in all of you.

“Hey guys,” you greet.

They look up, greeting you happily with excited smiles. Jongho, sat between the two eldest members, stares silently with pursed lips that he just about manages to stretch into a thin smile. “Hi,” he says, nodding weakly at you.

“Hey, Jongho,” you say. The others watch you amusedly, which you suppose you should be grateful for; if they weren’t all so entertained by your constant bickering you’d have surely been uninvited by now, but being the two youngest members of the group, the older ones seem to all regard you more like bickering toddlers, as entertaining as you are cute. You huff at the thought.

“Come sit next to me,” Wooyoung says, grabbing you arm and pulling you to two empty cushions on the floor. You plop yourself down happily, letting him pull you into a hug as Mingi slides a freshly opened beer in your direction.

Monopoly goes about as well as you thought it would; Yunho makes an enemy of himself by dominating the entire game, much to the chagrin of your best friend, who finds himself sent to the corner after a particularly emotive response to winding up in jail. Jongho, you notice, is a little more energetic today; he schemes and bickers with the others, grinning and whooping when he manages to trick Seonghwa out of his cash. By the time it ends you’re all a little angry with each other and more than a little drunk.

In the hours you’d been playing, you’d also managed to find yourself a lot closer to San than you’d started out; his hand is around your shoulder again, this time running up and down your arms in a soothing motion that he probably doesn’t even know he’s doing; but you do. And maybe it’s the alcohol, or the explosive tension between everyone in the room tonight, but you swear he’s holding you a little closer and tighter than usual.

If you hadn’t been so distracted by San, maybe you’d have also seen the way Jongho’s eyes narrow at the sight, lips pursed in restrained anger. But you don’t; and when the game is tidied up and the rest of the group naturally split into their separate conversations, you allow San to pull you away to “get some air” — unaware of the eyes on you as you leave.

The patio is a quiet, welcome respite from the chaos of the living room. Closing your eyes, you breathe in the cool evening air with a sigh of relief. “Fuck,” you say.

San chuckles from beside you, squeezing your arm fondly. “Weird game, huh?”

“Weird group,” you laugh.

“We’re loveable,” he says and you nod.

You don’t realise you’re shivering until you’re pulled into San’s embrace, hands running up and down your exposed arms — God bless you for not bringing a hoodie — and holding you against his chest. You sigh contentedly, admittedly almost a moan and you feel him freeze. He pulls back to stare you down, expression unreadable. “I…” You start, but he shushes you.

“I know,” he chuckles.

Slowly, without even realising, you’ve started to lean into each other, inches away from the other’s face. You heart starts to race, hands shaking against his chest as you get closer and closer, almost touching until…

The sound of someone saying your name — barking it, more like — catches you off guard, making you jump away from San without realising. You both turn to

come face to face with a fuming Jongho and you huff — this is typical luck. Right when you’re about to kiss the man who’s been making your heart race all night, who should walk in but the man who had a problem with everything you do — the man who seems to want nothing more than to make you miserable.

“Seriously, Jongho?” San snaps. “What now?”

“Get the fuck away from her, San,” Jongho growls, taking a step towards you.

San laughs, a stunned expression on his face. “No, Jongho, I won’t. Just because you want her miserable doesn’t mean I have to.”

Jongho scoffs, sharing a look with the elder that you can’t decipher. “You know damn well, San.”

He raises an eyebrow. “Yeah, I do. Do you? Does she?”

You stare up at him confusedly. “Do I know what?”

San just chuckles, keeping a protective arm around your shoulder, eyes still firmly on Jongho as he speaks. “This is your last chance,” he says. “Because you’re my friend. Either take her away from me or leave us alone. What’s it gonna be?”

“What?” You ask, utterly baffled. “Take me away? San, what does that mean?”

San still doesn’t reply, narrowed eyes fixed on Jongho, almost challenging him — to what, you don’t know. Silently, your eyes move back and forth between them, trying to decipher the situation you’re in; why Jongho even cares at all and what it is San knows. Eventually, the younger speak, voice low as he says, “The first one.”

San smiles thinly, looking as smug as he looks annoyed. “Fine.” He turns to you, stroking your face gently. “Go with Jongho, sweetheart. You guys need to talk.”

“But—”

“Go,” he says, and there’s a sternness in his voice you’ve never heard before. It frightens you a little and compels you to obey him. You nod, squeezing his hand slightly before moving to follow Jongho. San watches you go with what you allow yourself to think is sadness in his eyes.

Following Jongho inside, you find yourself back in the living room, where the others look up and, seeing who’s just walked in, make a show of sighing in relief. “Finally,” Mingi mutters.

Frowning, you look at him in confusion. You feel as though the rest of them are in on something — something about you — that they're refusing to let you in on. Despite it all, you trust them — and despite your bickering, as a long-standing member of the group, you trust Jongho. So when Hongjoong tells you to go upstairs to his room, you agree, following Jongho as he stomps his way up the stairs. You feel yourself getting angrier and angrier as you do, outraged that he’d interrupted what could have been… something with San, and wondering with a growing dread why — if he really just wants you to be miserable or if there’s another reason. You’re not sure which sounds worse.

The door slams loudly behind you as you enter the room. Jongho turns, ready to open his mouth before you beat him to it.

“Tell me you hate me,” you say.

Jongho pauses, caught off guard. His mouth opens and closes a few times, unsure of what to say. “What?”

You swallow, muscles tense. “I can’t do this anymore, Jongho. I can’t keep up this fucking… thing between us not knowing what I even did to you in the first place. So tell me you hate me and tell me why.”

It’s only as you speak that you realise just how much his rivalry has affected you; how deeply you’ve been feeling the loss of your friend ever since Jongho first pulled away. It catches in your throat, pulling at each of your strings and threatening to make you come undone completely. You’re on the verge of tears, desperate to break down but you can't let Jongho see you like that. This ends now — and you will win.

He says your name dazedly, like it’s fallen from his mouth without realising; like this whole thing was unexpected and shocking. Like he didn’t know this even mattered to you at all. “I…”

“Tell me now, Jongho,” you say; growl. “Say it. Tell me why you fucking hate me so much so I can hate you back.”

By the end of the sentence you’re practically yelling, spitting each word from your mouth in a daze of anger and confusion. Tears prick at your eyes but you force them back. You stare expectantly in the man in front of you, chest heaving with laboured, stressed breaths as you await his answer.

He stares blankly for a moment, lips parted slightly, and something on his face shifts. “I don’t.”

It’s so quiet you barely hear it; two small words, softly, shyly, reluctantly spoken by the last person you expected to hear them from. It’s so quiet and unexpected that you’re not even sure you heard him correctly. “What?” You ask.

He sighs, shaking his head. As he speaks you can tell he’s physically forcing each word out of his mouth. “I don’t hate you,” he says. He laughs humourlessly, smiling bitterly. “I don’t fucking hate you,” he repeats. “I fucking… opposite of hate you, actually.”

You blink, digesting his words; their meaning. What? You don’t know what to say, what to think; what to make of everything he’s saying to you. “Jongho…”

“No, listen,” he snaps. His face is a deepening red; whether from embarrassment or anger or some other emotion, you don’t know. “Ever since I met you I’ve fucking… wanted you but I thought I could handle it. I could just look at you and appreciate you from afar because we’ve always had an agreement in the group not to get tangled up with each other or each others’ exes or whatever.”

You stay silent as he talks, struggling to digest his words, which pour from his mouth as though he’s kept them locked up for a long time.

“We’ve managed to stick to it so far and I didn’t want to be the one to break it,” he says, getting louder still. “To break the group. But then we started getting closer and spending more time together and you just—”

“I just what?” You say finally. Your voice is dry, raspy and emotional, your words laboured and pained. You feel your heart, moments away from bursting through your chest as you repeat yourself. “I just what, Jongho?”

He sighs, an exasperated sound like he can’t believe the words that are coming out of his mouth. “You torment me.”

It’s silent for a moment, words hanging in the air as you digest them. You torment him?

You swallow, hands shaking. “What?”

“You heard me,” he spits. You see the tensing of his jaw, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides and you gulp.

“I don’t—”

“Yes you do,” he snaps loudly. When you jump at the noise a surprised expression crosses your face and he deflates slightly, sighing. “You do,” he says, quieter now. He says your name, eyes welling, then, so quiet you barely hear it — “I love you.”

You stare at him in shock, jaw dropped and then suddenly, everything makes sense — why he liked you so much then pulled then suddenly pulled away; why he’s so bothered and affected by everything you do; why he was so angry and betrayed seeing you with San — what San was so annoyed about when he asked if you knew.

You open your mouth to say something but nothing comes out; you’re completely lost right now, both in terms of what to say and what you even want to say. There’s a million emotions in your head right now, compounded by the barrage of new information that’s just been dumped on you and you don’t know what to do.

“Say something,” Jongho says; pleads.

“I…” You close your eyes, shaking your head with a quivering lip. Unable to think anything through, you let the words come from your mouth of their own accord. You don’t even realise what you’re saying until you’ve already said it; “I love you too.”

You’re shocked to hear the words come from your mouth but as you think it through you realise it’s true; you love Jongho. You love him. That’s why this has affected you so much, why it’s been so painful and so confusing and why you’d come upstairs with him when you knew that, if you’d really pressed it, you could have stayed with San. You love Jongho.

You squeeze your eyes shut, not bearing to look at his face until you feel a hand on your chin, tilting your head upwards. Opening your eyes you see Jongho inches away from your face, a dazed expression on his face and tears in his eyes. “You do?” He whispers, sounding as disbelieving as you.

You nod, shocked but absolutely certain. “I do.”

He stares at you for a moment, scanning your face for any trepidation, any uncertainty. But he finds none, and in an instant his lips are on yours, crashing into you in a desperate, adoring kiss. It’s unlike anything you’ve ever felt before; the culmination of years of longing, finally released in a moment of passion and release. He grips your hair tightly, his other hand running up and down your side, feeling you the way he’s been so desperate to. After a few minutes — or seconds, maybe — he starts to move, gently but hurriedly guiding you over to the bed. He pulls away for a moment, breathing laboured as he looks you up and down, licking his lips. “Fuck,” he whispers. “Beautiful.”

“Jongho,” you whisper.

He shushes you, finger on your lips; when you part them slightly he allows it to slip into your mouth and you suck at it gently. His pupils dilate at the sight and you giggle. “Quiet,” he gruffs. “I’ve waited so long for this because of that stupid group.”

“That was your choice,” you say, a little muffled from the finger in your mouth.

He chuckles dryly, humourlessly; he’s too pent up to find anything funny right now. He grabs your chin again, grip stronger as his eyes darken. “A choice I had to make because of you,” he says, almost snarling. “You beautiful, evil girl.”

He shoves you down, letting you fall onto the blankets with a yelp. In an instant he’s on top of you; hovering over you with a blank expression but hungry eyes. “You have no idea,” he says lowly, “what you’ve done to me all these years. How long I’ve waited to finally show you how much I need you.”

You breath hitches, feeling his words in your throat and stomach. You see the years of waiting and suffering in his eyes; the way he’s torn himself apart trying to resist you. But he’s done resisting now — he’s done waiting.

“Jongho,” you whisper. You reach up to touch his face and he lets you, closing his eyes and sighing contentedly for a moment before they snap open and he grabs your wrist, slamming it down against the bed.

“I’m here,” he says. “And I’m gonna fuck you so good, baby.”

You’re almost embarrassed by the genuine sigh of relief you let out, but you know he feels the same. You say his name again, almost crying now, and he smiles. “I know,” he says. “But first…”

He grabs your other wrist pinning them both down above your head. He shuffles up the bed, pushing your legs apart with his leg and pressing his knee between them; inches away from your heat. He lowers himself to your level, so close you can feel his breath on your face. His lips stretch into a sly, scheming smile as his head tilts innocently. “Apologise,” he says.

You left your head in confusion, not sure what he means; tutting, he gently pushes it back down, pinching your cheek a little too hard to be playful. “I didn’t say move,” he says. “I said apologise.”

You frown. “What for?”

He laughs softly, amused and a little irritated. “Come on, princess,” he purrs. “Use that little head of yours. You’ve been coming out with all kinds of insults for me these few years; I’m sure figuring this out will be a piece of cake in comparison.”

“I…”

He tuts, shaking his head. “Not so quick-witted after all, huh?” He chuckles. “Don’t worry, baby. I’m here; I’ll do all the thinking for you now.”

You whine, blushing at his condescending words and even more condescending tone; and at the things they do to you — they way they make you feel down there. Just an hour ago Jongho would have been decked if he’d even thought about speaking to you like this, but now… now, when his voice is so sweet and his grip on your wrists is so deliciously firm, he could probably say anything to you, and it would only make you want him more.

“You really don’t know what you did?” He asks, smiling fondly.

You shake your head, unable to think of what you’d done — but to be fair, you can’t really think of anything right now. He chuckles. “Silly girl,” he whispers. “A firm hand and a little sweet-talk and you’ve already forgotten how loved up you and San were earlier.”

Oh. Right. San. You flush — as much as you love your friend, Jongho’s right; a little of the right kind of attention from him and you’d forgotten all about the man you’d been so ready to fuck just an hour ago. It’s a ridiculous thought now; the idea of anyone hovering over you like this but Jongho. “Oh,” you whisper. “You’re right. I’m sorry.”

He chuckles. “It’s alright, baby,” he says. “That was very, very naughty but I’m not upset. Because after I finally fuck you the way you’ve been dreaming about, I know for a fact you’ll never look at him again.”

You feel your heart skip a beat at his words but choose to just smile, as cool as you can muster — “oh, really?” you ask.

He chuckles, nodding slightly before, without a word, shoving up that flimsy thing you call a dress, exposing your bra and panties, and diving into your chest. He pulls your breasts out, exposing your nipples as he licks and sucks at them hungrily. You lie still, moaning and whimpering at the sensations; yelping slightly when he bites down on one of your nipples gently before pulling away, focusing his attacks on one area of your breast; when he releases it, a deep purple mark sits prettily just above your nipple. “Really,” he grins.

You whine, trying to reach for him but his grip on your wrists remains, holding you firmly in place. He tuts, pecking your lips. “Bad girl,” he chuckles. “I should put you in your place, shouldn’t I?”

“Yeah,” you breathe. “You should.”

He looks a little caught off guard — maybe not expecting you to be so enthusiastic about being treated this way — but rolls with it, chuckling fondly. “I will,” he says dangerously. “Soon as I get this suspiciously nice lingerie off of you.”

You blush, squirming slightly — it’s true you’d worn one of your nicer sets, despite your knowledge that nothing would happen; it tends to make you a little more confident, and if something had happened with San because of it, so be it. But of course, nothing happened; at least not with him, and now you’ve got a set of even hungrier eyes — you didn’t know anyone could be hornier than Wooyoung and San, with their constant leering even if largely platonic and more often than not at each other — devouring you.

“Do it then,” you challenge. He raises an eyebrow but it’s more of a challenge than deterrence. “Stop talking and fuck me, Jongho.”

Unexpectedly, Jongho growls; a genuinely feral sound coming from his throat as he dives into you. He’s careful but hurried as he removes your lingerie; pausing for a moment when your pussy comes into view, making you blush. He discards your underwear on the floor, next to the dress he’s already pulled over your head and thrown to the side, and directs his gaze back to your pussy. “Wow,” he breathes.

You blush deeply; even deeper when he presses a finger to it, dragging it through your folds; you hear and feel the wetness even before he lifts his finger, showing you smugly. “Soaked,” he says, sounding admiring. “Think I’ll even need to prep you at all?”

By now you’re so desperate that you’re not even ashamed as you shake you head; you know you’re wet, you know you’re ready and though you hadn’t realised until now, you’ve been waiting for this for years. He smiles, giggling a little before finally unzipping his pants and pulling out his already hard cock. Your eyes widen slightly; it’s longer than you thought and thicker than you’d imagined. You know it will fit but your mouth waters just thinking about the way it will stretch you. You lick your lips unconsciously; only aware when Jongho chuckles, pressing a finger into your mouth with a fond smile. “Easy, baby,” he whispers. “I’ll let you suck it next time. Need you too badly right now.”

You nod, definitely in complete agreement — you can’t bear the thought of anything keeping Jongho from fucking you right now; keep from feeling him deep inside you, finally loving and claiming you for his own.

He shoves two fingers in, pumping you a few times to open you up before lining up his cock and sliding it into you easily. He groans at the feeling when he finally pushes inside; you yelp at the stretch, just mild enough to be fully pleasurable and he grins. “That good, huh?”

“I’d ask you the same,” he giggles.

He laughs, pressing a kiss to your forehead before slowly starting to move. His first thrust is barely that; it’s gentle and subtle, an easy introduction — but it sends a shiver up your spine that tells you this is right; Jongho is right. And as he speeds up, that feeling only multiples; exploding and overtaking you with each precise, quickening thrust until you’re drowning in it.

He fucks you carefully but mercilessly; as much an act of love as a release on tension and desire. He holds you firmly but tenderly, hand around your neck with a slight pressure that’s oddly comforting as he slams into you over and over, groaning and shouting at the feeling. Leaning over you, he whispers loving but filthy things in your ear that you barely hear beneath all the feelings and sensations and the emotional release of fucking someone you’ve been so tormented by for so long; to finally feel a touch you’ve been craving without realising. You could sob from it, and you think he could too; though he’s focused on fucking you right, on claiming you the way he’s promised, you see the emotion on his face, the disbelief that this is even happening; that you even want him. Like you, he must have thought you hated him; yet here you are now, entirely loving and as close as two people can be.

You feel his climax before it comes; the thrusts get faster and more desperate, less thought and precision behind each one as he drives himself to the edge; his moans and shouts turn to stuttered, desperate noises — whines, as he grips you tighter and closer than ever before. As he approaches his grip on your neck tightens even more, face touching yours as he whispers, “gonna cum in you baby, fuck.”

You nod desperately; you were unaware you could need something as much you need him to cum in you, to breed you — when he does it’s a glorious, desperate moment; you both shout and scream through it, clinging desperately to each other. You can tell how pent-up he is, how much he needed this just from how long it takes him to finish; for over a minute he’s yelling and cumming in you, fucking his seed deep into your womb as you lie still and open, taking it open. He collapses on top of you as soon as he’s done, rolling off of you and taking you into his arms with a panting sigh. “Fuck,” he breathes.

You chuckle, nuzzling closer into his hold. “I know, Jongho,” you whisper. “I know.”

—————

The mood downstairs is both relaxed and tense; relaxed from the absence of the two enemies and tense from the nervous wait for results; to hear the outcome of the talk you’d been having upstairs for the past God knows how long. The remaining seven men lounge around, chatting among themselves and drinking happily as they await news; it comes soon enough — not through any announcement of resolution, but through the loud, desperate moans that reach their ears from upstairs, unmistakable as belonging to the youngest members of the group. It takes them a moment to even understand what they’re hearing; when they do a noise that’s half a groan, half a sigh of relief sounds out around the room. Wooyoung and San exchange a high five, relieved not to be the mediators anymore, and Seonghwa smiles happily at the thought of his two youngest friends, naively tormenting each other in total ignorance of the clear solution in front of them — one they’ve now clearly found.

Only Hongjoong doesn’t look pleased — an irritated, disgusted expression reaches his face, catching Wooyoung’s attention. “Why are you so annoyed?” He asks with a laugh. “You complain about their bickering more than anyone.”

The others make noises of agreement but Hongjoong just huffs, crossing his arms in indignation. “Because, Wooyoung,” he snaps. “They’re in my bedroom.”

—————

thank you anon for requesting! and thanks for reading. reblog and comment if you enjoyed! requests are OPEN! love🖤🖤🖤

#ateez smut #ateez hard hours #ateez x reader #kpop smut #jongho x reader #jongho smut #mulloey writes

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