#i just have to take my time i can't rush this

[gotta-winwin]

OT13 Reaction -- the aha moment

or...how they realize they're in love with you

seungcheol doesn't get that aha moment, falling in love isn't something that happens within seconds for him. it's like he's slowly drifting into love, not even realizing you've become the focal point of his entire existence. when it finally hits him, it's a quiet, simple moment. he's watching you make him breakfast in the morning, admiring you quietly from the kitchen counter. he zones out for a moment, blinking suddenly and realizing damn. that's my woman. and he knows he's ruined for life.

it's kind of silly, how jeonghan realizes he's in love with you. he's just returned home from a busy day at work, entering the house to find it empty. searching the place top to bottom, he's about to call you when - BOO - you jump out from one of the closets and scares the soul out of him. he's clutching his chest, watching as you collapse onto the ground in a fit of giggles. he can't help but laugh along, realizing through the chaos that he's found his soulmate, and he'd be damned not to admit he's in love with you.

joshua's a simple man by nature. he's easily happy in life, only needing his members, his job, his lifestyle, and of course, you. it doesn't take long into your relationship before he realizes he's in love, as the two of you take a stroll along the Han River after a long day. he's watching the setting sun reflect against your figure, taking his phone out to snap a few pictures. it's when he notices his camera roll is full of pictures of you does he think well, that's it. i'm in love.

upon meeting his family, jun notices how much work you've put into it. you're doing your best to speak his town's dialect, communicating with his parents in a language that made them most comfortable. his heart swells when he sees you amidst his childhood home, trading stories and eating with the people who raised him. it's when he notes that you look so perfect here that he realizes you just fit. he's in love.

as if everything else is with soonyoung, his aha moment is full of fireworks and pizzazz. having just finished the most record breaking performance of his life, he finds himself with one thought only: i want to go home. usually, it's because he's tired. but now, ever since you stumbled into his life, he finds himself wanting, needing, to go home so he can hold you and recite everything that happened today. he's practically thrumming with energy to rush home, and everyone around him sees what is so painfully obvious. he's so in love.

wonwoo's always credited himself to be a loner. not a lot of people can fit with his quiet personality, so when you offer the idea of "parallel play" he's a little confused. his heart warms when you explain that you don't mind doing separate things as long as you're in the same area, understanding that he needs more time to himself than others might. it's when you tell him you love him enough to compromise does he think im so in love with this girl right now.

woozi's used to writing songs dedicated to his fans and members. he sits down for another writing session, brainstorming ideas and the thought of you pops into his mind. he shrugs, thinking it might be nice to mix it up a bit, sitting down to write something about you. it's when he reads his own words back does he realize he's irrevocably screwed and so in love with you. thought about settling down, buying her a house and saying screw the music. yeah, he's in love.

having always been a realist, minghao doesn't necessary believe in true love, or love at first sight. he understands there's going to be someone out there for him, but he's skeptical that that someone is going to be perfect. all his beliefs go out the window the moment he sees you - it's like you're surrounded by a golden glow - and he realizes maybe love at first sight can be real.

seokmin loves and gives as easy as breathing. he's always been a generous guy, and it's when you sit him down and kindly remind him to leave some for himself does he stare at you and realize ok i've found the one. you've become that steadiness in his life that used to be just his members, and you love and give to him like it's as simple as breathing too.

having always been the resident cook, mingyu's eyeing your food creation like it's some kind of poison or drug. he had insisted you didn't need to cook for him, he's always been the cook and doesn't mind it, but you were stubborn and he relented. it's when the first bite blows him away does he realize he kinda misses having someone cook for him too. if you're this good at cooking i might just have to marry you, he says, ignoring how you blush, going back for another bite.

seungkwan's always been the entertainer. he doesn't mind it, he enjoys the fact it's his job to make everyone laugh. but when times get tough and he's in no mood to be the entertainer, you're right there to support him. it's when he gets home to you after a particularly rough day and you welcome him in with open arms, murmuring how he's done well and doesn't need to do more. it's when he realizes he can just be seungkwan - not seungkwan the entertainer, but just seungkwan - and he loves you for that.

vernon never really thought about finding the one. he always just assumed that they would find him. and that's exactly what happens, when you bump into each other at the movie theatre - both there alone just cause. it's when you're enthusiastically going band for band with vernon about movies that he's forced with the realization that shit. maybe i have found the one.

chan's always known he was in love with you. he doesn't like to admit it cause he thinks it makes him sound sappy, but he truly never questioned his love for you. it was a simple thing in his mind - this person makes me so fucking happy - i must be in love. and how could it not be simple for him? he's staring at you quipping about some joke to his friends and he's thinking i love you. he's watching you just wake up from a nap and he's thinking i love you. he sees a text from you on his phone mid-dance practice. i love you. he's always been in love with you because he loves everything to do with you.

[brbsoulnomming]

Heart On Your Sleeve Part 5

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

written for steddiebigbang2024 and belatedly posting here!

This part includes the Russian torture scene, so adding a warning for gore/violence just to be safe!

-----

Eddie comes by Scoops, once Steve gets the job there.

The first time, he laughs at the sailor hat for a minute straight until Steve rolls his eyes and calls back, “I'm taking my lunch!”

“Now?” Robin bitches. “Did you actually get a girl to fall for those ridiculous li-” She cuts off as she comes out of the back room and sees Eddie. “Oh. Huh.”

Eddie flashes a sharp toothed smile at her, and Steve rolls his eyes again and elbows him.

“I'll be back before the actual lunch rush hits this way,” he tells Robin, untying his apron and depositing it to the side of the counter.

To Eddie, he says, “Here, since this brought you so much joy,” and drops the sailor hat onto the top of Eddie's head.

Eddie gives a squawk and squirms around like he's trying to bat him off, though Steve notices he doesn't actually push him away as Steve adjusts the hat to his liking.

“There,” Steve says, shooting Eddie a teasing little grin as he steps back. “You keep that on the whole time, and I'll buy you lunch.”

“A small price to pay for a free meal,” Eddie says solemnly, but his eyes are crinkled a little like they do when he smiles, and he doesn't take the hat off the entire time they eat together.

—

He and Eddie sit out back behind Scoops, passing a cigarette back and forth. It's the end of Steve's shift, and technically he doesn't have to stay anymore, but he's not in a hurry to get home.

Dustin's away at camp, after all.

“Why the hell are you working here?” Eddie asks, sounding like he's been mulling it over for a while.

Steve snorts. “Needed to work somewhere.”

“Okay, fine, but haven't you done the lifeguard thing for like three years?”

Steve - didn't actually expect Eddie to know that, and he shoots him a little smile before he rolls his eyes. “Not a real job, according to my dad. It's just hanging out at the pool all day.”

Eddie scoffs. “Would your dad even know a real job if it bit him?”

“My dad's never really had to work for anything,” Steve mutters. “I didn't get into any of the colleges they wanted me to, so I needed to be taught a lesson. Pretty sure he was hoping it'd humiliate me.”

Eddie tips back, looking him over. “You don't look very humiliated.”

Steve shrugs. “Because I'm not. Yeah, sure, the outfit and the hat are stupid, but work is work. Ice cream makes people happy, I make people happy, it could be worse. Besides, he has no idea what I'm even making here. Every paycheck is a little more I can stash away where he can't touch it.”

Eddie's watching him very closely now, in a way that Steve's never seen before.

“How long have you been doing that?” he asks quietly.

“What, saving money that my dad doesn't know about?” Steve asks.

“Yeah.”

Eddie's face is serious - far more serious than Steve's ever seen him, than he thinks the situation warrants. Steve frowns.

“Since I got my first job, I guess? Anything I ask for from him comes with some kind of string attached, and I got tired of paying for it.”

Eddie's quiet again. “You've gotten in a lot of fights the last couple of years,” he says, slow and careful like he thinks Steve might bolt. “Lot of bruises.”

He clocks on to what Eddie's trying to get at, then, and a rush of relief washes over him as he hurries to set him straight. “Oh, no, my dad's not abusive or anything, just an asshole. He's never hit me.”

Eddie considers that. “Your dad can be an abusive piece of shit without ever hitting you.”

Steve licks his lips, takes his turn watching Eddie a little more closely. “Sounds like you're familiar with it.”

Eddie laughs, sharp and humorless. “Come on, man, you know who my dad is.”

“I know what people say about him,” Steve agrees. “But I've learned not to listen to rumors.”

Eddie flicks the cigarette butt off into the distance.

Steve gets out another one, puts it between his lips to light it. He takes a long drag, then - pulls his heart out of his chest, setting it between them before he passes the cigarette over.

Eddie's eyes drop down to his heart as he takes the cigarette, but this time he doesn't say anything.

Steve still doesn't ask to see his, even though he's tempted.

“You can listen to these ones,” Eddie says after a while. “They're mostly true.”

“You deserve better,” Steve tells him.

He looks over when Eddie doesn't say anything, finding him watching his heart. It's beating strong and steady.

“So do you,” Eddie says without looking up.

They sit in silence for a while longer, until the cigarette is gone.

Then Steve tucks his heart back into his chest and stands up. “Come on, I'll get us lunch.”

Eddie scowls at him. “You bought last time.”

“Yeah, but a conversation like that deserves a burrito bigger than your head, and I've got employee discount,” Steve counters, holding out his hand.

Eddie concedes, accepting his hand up.

—

Steve keeps making up excuses to buy Eddie lunch after that, every time he comes by at the end of an early shift or close to his lunch break on a later shift.

One day he gets them both pizza from Sbarro, and they sit at one of the sticky plastic tables in the food court. It's so small their knees knock together as they devour their slices, but -

But it also means that Steve can tuck his ankle up against Eddie's, hook his foot half around it, and have an excuse if he needs one.

He doesn't need one.

Eddie doesn't move his foot away, but he does shoot wide eyed little looks over at Steve like he's not sure whether this is a joke or not, and -

“Hi,” Steve says, soft and ridiculous and holy shit, he has to have something better than hi.

But apparently hi works, because Eddie ducks his head, looks back up at him with something soft and wary and surprised all at once.

“Hi,” Eddie says back.

And that's -

It's something.

—

Steve gets closer to Robin - their bickering has started to become playful, and even though her teasing's never been mean, now it sounds almost fond. She still gets annoyed when customers watch them work in complete sync and think they're a couple, but now she just rolls her eyes and complains to him later instead of throwing things off by trying to protest it.

It's nice. He thinks he might be winning her over, and it makes the days pass a lot quicker.

—

He doesn't see Eddie for a week after their pizza lunch.

He tries not to think much about it, just tells himself that if he hasn't seen him by the time Dustin comes back from camp, he'll call him.

—

This isn't like any beating he's taken before.

Steve'd thought he was prepared. He was prepared, at least in the beginning. Billy did just as much damage, even if it was in a shorter span of time, and the ache in his ribs and stomach and face is familiar.

He can handle it.

Besides, it doesn't matter how much they hurt him - protecting Robin and Dustin and Erica is more important than anything else.

"Let's take a look at his heart," one of the soldiers says. "See how honest he's really being."

Steve's pretty sure he makes a choked off little guh.

He doesn't want to let them anywhere near his heart.

But on the other hand - he isn't lying as much as they think he is, and maybe that will prove it? They'll have to undo his hands to get him to take it out, and he briefly considers trying to get the drop on them, but he has to concede that probably won't go very well for him.

It's not like they're really asking for his opinion, anyway.

They aren't making any move to untie his hands, either, and Steve's brow scrunches in confusion.

He sees one of them holding what looks like a mix of a gun and a taser. It - honestly, it looks pretty stupid, like a prop in a bad movie, and he wrinkles his nose at it.

They press it up against his ribcage, pull the trigger - and fuck, he jolts back with the force of it.

His chest splits open.

The shock of it makes him numb for a precious few moments, staring down at the gaping hole in his own chest. The pain doesn't hit him until they take his heart out. It feels like it's being carved out of him, ripped from his chest as though he were being mauled by a wild animal, and he has the somewhat hysterical thought that he shouldn't be alive for this.

His heart was torn out of his chest, and somehow it's still beating, erratic and racing.

"Hmm," one of the soldiers says, tilting his heart this way and that. "Feels real."

The soldier squeezes it, and this time Steve screams at the pressure tightening around his heart, making him convulse in his bonds.

The second soldier laughs.

"They're making such good fakes these days," the second soldier says.

The first soldier relaxes his grip, and Steve sucks in ragged gulps of air, too disoriented to really understand what they're saying.

"Much more sophisticated than patches and paint," the first soldier agrees. "What good would a spy be if he showed his real heart?"

"No," Steve protests. "It's real, come on, you can feel it."

There’s no sign of deception from his heart, but it's beating too wildly from the pain to really make a difference.

"We'll see about that," the second soldier says, handing a switchblade to the first.

The first soldier presses the flat of the blade against his heart. "Let's see what's underneath if we shave a little off?"

—

Steve doesn't really remember anything after that. He must have passed out, because the next thing he hears is Robin's voice, and he realizes he's in a different room, tied back to back with her.

His chest aches.

Everything aches, really, but his chest is the worst of it.

Steve looks down, sees himself solid and in one piece again. He might have thought the whole thing was just a pain induced hallucination if it weren't for the unstable beat of his heart. It's pulsing unsteadily, and he feels as though if he even breathes too hard, it might burst into pieces with the next beat.

But he's not alone now.

He's with Robin, and she makes everything better, and even though his heart beats too fast when he thinks of how much he likes her - it's the good kind of too fast, not the kind that makes him think his heart is going to explode.

He is pretty sure that his heart is going to explode, though, that they're probably going to die here. He knows Robin is thinking the same thing - he just knows, like going through Russian secret agent torture together has made them automatically on the same wave length.

They were heading towards being friends before this, he knows, wonders if maybe they could have ever been for real.

It's a shame he doesn't think he'll ever get to find out.

—

Dustin and Erica find them before Steve loses any fingers.

Which is good. He might not be on the basketball team anymore, but he still plays with Lucas sometimes, and he likes all of his fingers attached to his hand and not on the floor of a secret Russian base.

He tells Dustin that as they're escaping from said Russian secret base. Dustin looks a little pale, hugs him tight around the middle, which makes Steve laugh - it should hurt, he thinks, but he doesn't feel a thing.

The only thing he feels is kind of floaty, and the itchy, overheated sensation he always gets when he's had his heart locked inside his chest for too long.

When no one's looking, Steve takes his heart out of his chest.

His stomach turns.

Whatever he's feeling about it seems distant, too far removed for him to be able to react to it, but the physical sensation of his stomach heaving is present and accounted for.

It only barely looks like a heart. The shape of it is hardly visible, more like a double handful of the precut chuck roast he gets to use as stew meat, sluggishly oozing every time it beats.

The thought of putting it back in his chest makes his stomach heave again, but even like this, he knows he can't keep it out in the open.

He rips off the red scarf from his Scoops uniform, wraps it around his heart to hold it together, and ties it off.

There.

Now no one will notice.

This is already written, and my plan is to post one part a day until it's all up here!

-----

Part 6

Taglist (always happy to add more to this if anyone wants): @fairytalesreality @lostonceandneverfound @wheneverfeasible @awkwardgravity1 @theintrovertedintrovert @thewickedkat @ravenfrog @scarlet-malfoy @missmagillicuddy @xxfiction-is-my-realityxx @ollyxar @cringe-culture-is-dead-99 @thedragonsaunt @makewavesandwar @ajeff855 @mae-liz @the-fantastical-asexual @jettestar @warlordess @samsoble @persnicketysquares @cryptid-system @my-love-of-books @mydysfunctionallife @dreamercec @holyangelstudentuniverse

[bbyquokka]

nerd in love

– after a misunderstanding, jisung finally tells yn how he feels at his birthday party .ᐟ.ᐟ

pairing | han jisung x fem reader

genre | mutual pining , fluff , uni au – 18+ is strongly advised!

cw | she/her pronouns used ; mostly in jisung pov ; food and alcohol mentioned ; a lil suggestive at the end

words | 10.1k ~ ( 10,133 )

notes | well, here it is! i started this before my break (which is why its so late) but finished it during my break n i just wanted to post it bc im proud of this n i adore this version of jisung n the friendship dynamics !! :( don’t forget to leave feedback, reblog and tell me what you think here. i hope you all enjoy! ‹3

m.list — wips list — you can also read it on my ao3

dont repost. dont translate. minors, ageless & default blogs; dni! feedback and reblogs are highly advised and appreciated!

your pen taps against the white, lined sheet of paper that has a few scribbles and doodles on. your cheek resting on your hand as you sigh a little in boredom. 

the professor has been groaning on and on about the same thing. you want to listen and take in the information as you know it's important, but your mind wanders and you start to daydream; making imaginary scenarios.

you'd imagine an alien suddenly abducting you because it heard your silent cries of boredom. you and the alien would become the best of friends, the alien showing you around it's space shuttle and inviting you to have some tea and cake before making friendship bracelets – because that's what humans do, right?

other times, you'd imagine a strong, buff greek god suddenly turning up in class. he'd walk to you and take your hand, claiming that you're his long lost bride, before carrying you bridal style and off into the sunset where you two would get married and have babies.

so caught up in your fake scenarios, you don't see that another student is now looking at you.

the student is sitting in front of you–his usual designated spot. black hair that's long and permed and covers his eyes. glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose. dressed in a button up shirt and black jeans, paired with a few accessories and black doc marten boots.

“excuse me.” he whispers, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose. “you're making too much noise.” he frowns.

you snap out of your daydream and sit up straight, wiping the imaginary drool from your chin with the back of your hand.

“o-oh.. sorry jisung.” you laugh awkwardly. he tuts and rolls his eyes before facing the front. you scoff a little and sit back in your seat.

you don't have very many friends in university, a small handful but it's enough and you don't have very many enemies either, but since jisung started the same class as you, he's been cold towards you.

he's not like this with other people, just you–it's like he can't stand you.

but for some reason, his cold, mean demeanour just makes you want him and find him even more attractive.

it's not a kink of yours, to be spoken down to and degraded. in fact, you love having the attention on you and being treated kindly and gently so it's unknown to you why you find him so attractive.

“alright class! that's all for today. you're all dismissed.” the teacher says. you silently cheer, packing up your things in your backpack.

jisung rises to his feet and swings his bag onto his shoulder, letting it rest there before pulling out his phone. you both catch eye contact with each other.

“see you tomorrow?” you say politely and smile. jisung quickly looks away and mumbles something before walking out in a rush.

maybe you're still daydreaming, but you swore you could see the tips of his ears turning a light shade of pink. 

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

“fuck, i’m so late!” you alternate between running and speed walking your way to your class. your alarm didn't go off this morning so when you finally awoke, it was up and out in a flash. “i'm so screwed!”

today is an important day. the teacher was going to go over a few things on a test that's due in a few weeks so you really needed to attend it to get an idea–but alas, here you are. hair disheveled, dried up drool on your chin and your socks mismatched with your backpack hanging off your shoulder.

you breathe a sigh of relief before stopping in front of the lecture hall doors. you take a deep breath and fix yourself up before reaching out to open the doors.

the doors suddenly swing open. the students exiting the hall. you stand in the middle of the students as they walk around you, engaging in conversations with their friends.

you frown in confusion, looking at the time on your phone. your eyes widen even more, bulging from the sockets.

“oh wow.. i really fucked up.” you were a lot later than you thought.

you look up to see jisung looking at his phone. today he's in a plain, black t-shirt and skinny jeans. a few chains hanging around his neck and converse.

“hey, ji!” you call out. he looks up at whoever is calling him before his face twists into disgust when he realises it's you. you ignore this, mainly because he rushes past you.

you frown and chase after him, trying to keep up with his speed–but he's too fast.

“hey! wait! i know you heard me, ji!!”

“don’t call me that. my name is jisung.” he mumbles.

“ok ok, sorry! just, i need help!” 

“find it elsewhere.” his tone of voice is cold towards you; like always. again, you ignore it.

“please, i’m desperate! my alarm didn't go off and i clearly missed class! i know it was super important too and–can you slow down and listen to me?!” you huff.

jisung lets out an irritated sigh and looks at you; phone in one hand, earphones in the other. he stops in the middle of the corridor and looks at you.

you bend down, hands on your knees to catch your breath. 

“you being late has nothing to do with me. it's your own fault for being late.” he says, pushing his glasses up the bridge of his nose.

“yeah, i know.”

“you fucked up and now you want my help? how could i possibly help you?”

“i need your notes.”

“my notes? fuck no.” 

“oh please, ji… sorry–jisung. i really, really need this.” you pout. jisung groans and rubs the back of his neck.

“ok, fine.” he sighs in defeat. you're taken aback by how easy it was for him to surrender his notes over to you; but you don't complain. he takes his notebook out of his bag and hands it to you. you cheer and open it up, looking at the notes.

his handwriting is beautiful. his notes are easy to follow, however, you've come to the realisation that looking at notes isn't going to be enough for you to get the information to stick in your mind.

“make sure to give it to me by the end of the day. i’m usually at the library.” he says as you flick through his notes. “if you can't find me, find minho. he's my roommate.” 

you don't respond due to the fact that so much information is causing your brain to go into information overload. jisung sighs again and, as he is about to walk away, you grab his arm.

“wait!” you make a quick mental note of how soft his skin is and how muscular he feels. jisung looks at your hand that's on him, feeling heat quickly rise to his cheeks and his heart to thumb erratically in his chest.

“your hand.” he whispers. you lean in close to get a better understanding of what he just said.

“pardon?”

“hand. your hand. please remove it.”

“oh!” you quickly remove your hand from him. jisung clears his throat and looks down, hoping that his long hair covers his face to hide the blush that's happily sitting on his cheeks.

you see it though and make a note of how adorable he looks. you feel your own heartbeat skipping beats and beating erratically but you put it down to you having to sprint to class.

“i don't think this will be enough.” you start. he looks up at you. “the notes.. i don't think it's going to be enough.”

“well, there's a library and also the internet. there’s this thing called google, so use that.”

“teach me.” his eyes widen in shock.

“t-teach you?! fuck no, yn!”

“please, jisung! just until the test is over! i really, really need this. i’m desperate and, although your notes are so perfect, it's going to take a lot more than notes for me to understand it!”

“then ask the tutor for a one-on-one! or ask your friend!!” he stutters in shock. his cheeks are now bright red.

“you know the tutor doesn't do one-on-ones and my friends don't even take this class! oh please, jisung. pleeeaseee. pretty pretty pleeease.” you pout, giving him puppy eyes.

“yn…”

“i’ll buy you your coffee everyday for a full month.”

“... just my coffee?”

“what sweet treat do you like?”

“...cheesecake.” he answers reluctantly.

“then coffee and cheesecake on me for a full month!” jisung runs his fingers through his hair slowly, a soft, defeated sigh leaving his lips as he contemplates.

“you really need this, huh.” you nod your head fast to the point of dizziness. “you drive a hard bargain, yn. but fine.”

you cheer and grin widely.

“on some conditions though.”

“what?”

“we study in the library, you don't be late and we only do this until the test is over! after that, i won't teach you anymore.”

“yes sir.” you salute. “oh, do you want my contact information? might make it easier to set up study dates.”

“study dates?” 

“yeah! i assume we have different schedules due to different classes, so it's better to text or call each other so we know when to meet up!”

“true.. ok, fine. give me.” you tell jisung your contact information. he phones you and you smile as you save his contact information.

“thank you so much, jisung! you're the best!” you say before sprinting off to find your friend leaving a flustered jisung bewildered in the middle of the corridor.

“study dates, huh.. i kinda like that.” 

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

“dude, chill. you're just going to the library to study” jisung’s roommate laughs as he watches jisung scurrying around the place as he packs his bag. 

minho is relaxing on jisung’s bed, shirtless and in sweats with round glasses sitting on the bridge of his nose whilst eating an ice pop. him and jisung have been the best of friends since university started and he became jisung’s roommate.

since then, they've both been inseparable. many people speculate that something is going on between the two of them, indicating a relationship–minsung, they call them.

“i am chill.” jisung mumbles as he shoves in a few too many pens into his pencil case.

“yeah, suuuure.” minho laughs as he licks and sucks on his popsicle. “i’ve watched you run around the place like a headless chicken.”

“dude, please hush.” jisung looks at minho just as some sticky sweet ice drops onto minho's chest. he scoops it up with his fingers and eats it. jisungs sighs “do you have to eat that on my bed?”

“yeah. problem?” minho smirks

“yes. quite a few actually. you're going to get the sheets sticky!” jisung whines.

“not the first time i've heard that.” minho laughs at his own joke. jisung rolls his eyes but the corner of his lips turn upright into a smile as he holds back his laugh.

“you're disgusting.”

“yeah? and you're a mess right now, bro.” minho places the wooden popsicle stick on jisung's side table before swinging his legs around to plant his feet on the floor.

he stands and walks to jisung, ruffling his hair a few times.

“you're just going to study, that's all. it's not that big of a deal, bro. unless….” minho smirks and wiggles his brows at jisung.

“unless what? what are you implying, minho?” jisung says as he crosses his arms across his chest and raises his brow.

“unless you, oh i don't know, like her.” jisung's eyes widen a little and he clears his throat, turning his head to avoid eye contact with minho. “aha!! i knew it! you do like ‘em!”

“no, i don't. fuck off, minho.” jisung mumbles and rushes to his desk, messing and organizing a few things to ‘look busy.’

minho skips over to jisung with a smirk. “c’mon ji. we all know you've been smitten with yn since the very beginning. it's soooo obvious!”

“dude, please. i don't like her like that. and it's jisung–not ji!”

“ahuh. whatever you say, dude.” minho laughs. 

“plus, she probably doesn't like me in that way..” jisung mumbles before sighing softly.

“have you asked her that?”

“well… no but–”

“then how do you know?” 

“i just do, ok?! enough with the questions, minho. don't you have that media assignment to do or something?”

“nope.” minho says, popping the p in an obnoxious way. “all done, which means i am a free man.”

“no one is a ‘free man’ in university, minho.” jisung laughs. 

“ugh, you're right. even though one assignment is done, i still have a gazillion more.” minho runs his fingers through his long, shaggy hair. “speaking of which, i best start with at least one of them.”

“good luck, man. you'll do great.” jisung says sarcastically, paring it with a sarcastic grin.

“fuck you. good luck with yn, jisung.” minho turns around and walks out of jisung's bedroom. “hope you get laid!” he shouts.

“fuck you.” jisung laughs. minho sticks his middle finger up at jisung before laughing and closing his bedroom door.

with the last of his things packed, he zips up his back. he checks one last time in the mirror, fixing his hair and spraying his best perfume onto his neck. he puts his hand up to his mouth, huffing on it before sniffing. pulling a face, he grabs a mint and pops it into his mouth, sucking on it as he puts on his shoes and a leather jacket.

“it’s just a study thing. it's not that serious. calm down, jisung.” he mumbles as he laces up his shoes.

but he can't stop his heartbeat from thumping loudly against his ribcage and excitement to rush through his body. his excitement is so big, it makes him shake. 

“it’s not a big deal. she probably doesn't like you that way.” he continues to mumble in an attempt to calm himself down as he takes one last look in the mirror. a smile slowly creeps up onto his face and a small squeal escapes from the back of his throat.

“fuck! i’m so screwed.” 

minho hears this and laughs at his friend's excitement before putting on his headphones. if there's one thing minho loves, is seeing his best friend happy and over the moon. he just hopes he won't get hurt.

“cute.” minho says to himself before typing away at his keyboard. jisung leaves the bedroom and shouts a goodbye to minho before heading out to the library.

nervous doesn't describe how jisung is feeling. as he walks to the library, his legs start to feel like jelly and the urge to turn back strong the closer he gets to his destination. he hopes that you're not there first just so he has time to calm himself down.

he even tries to listen to music in hopes that it would calm him down somewhat. but the soothing sounds of violins and cellos do nothing (he even tried listen to a few seconds of whale noises but even that was useless)

“we’re just studying. nothing more.” he repeats under his breath as he walks inside the library.

the place is nicely decorated, modern with a hint of an historic touch. students at tables and little cubicles, headphones on and studying. some in groups, whispering as they do projects of various kinds. some making the most of how quiet it is to take a quick nap. the occasional rustling of snack packets paired with the occasional crunch breaks the silence every so often.

it's silent but it's lively.

jisung says a few hellos to some students he recognises (either from classes they take together or them being minho's friends) as he searches the area for you.

his heart thumping as he searches. he silently cheers when he can't see you because he has a chance to calm down, but, as he walks to an empty table at the very back of the room, his victory is cut short as he sees you sitting there; ready and waiting.

you have your back to him (and to everyone else) and you're hunched over your notebook. jacket resting on the back seat with your bag on the floor, by your side. jisung takes a quick, small peek over your shoulder to see what you're doing only to see small, quick doodles on the page from boredom.

his heart swells a little as it's another thing he's learnt about you. just when he thinks you couldn't get any more perfect.

“hey, yn.” he whispers only to realise that you won't hear him no matter how many times he calls for you due to the music that's blasting from your earphones. he makes a quick mental note of who you're listening to before trying to get your attention again.

“hey, yn.” he places his hand on your shoulder to which you jump at, causing jisung to jump at your reaction. you look behind you as you take out your earbuds, sighing in relief.

“jesus, jisung. you frightened me.” 

“sorry, yn. i didn't mean to.”

“no, it's ok. my music may have been a little too loud.” you laugh as you put them away and jisung sits next to you on one of the chairs.

“you know you'll get tinnitus if you keep doing that.” 

“yeah… i know. it's a bad habit but music sounds better loud, y‘know!” jisung nods in agreement before pulling out his notebook and pencil case.

you watch him lean down. you take the time to admire him. his hair soft and fluffy. you have to resist the urge to run your fingers through it. a faint smell of strawberries and flowers emits from his hair; a sickly sweet yet pleasant smell.

his skin is dewy and perfect; not a blemish in sight. a beauty mark sits close to his lips. it's a small mark so it's no wonder you never recognised it before.

you notice the way his biceps bulge and flex with every motion of his arms. the chains from his neck dangle a little and his aftershave wafts towards you and tickles your nose hairs.

“you smell so good.“ you mumble. jisung looks at you.

“excuse me?”

“you smell so fucking good.” you repeat and lean in close to him. your hair tickles his jawline and chin as you smell the skin of his neck. “what do you use?”

“...i–urm, i don't know. i just picked it up when i was shopping.” you hum and nod. jisungs soft cheeks slowly start to feel very hot. “personal space, yn. ever heard of it?”

“oh!! sorry. my bad. i didn't mean to make you uncomfortable.” you laugh awkwardly as a awkward silence falls upon you both.

jisung turns his head away from you so you can't see him but his cheeks are very red and hot as his heart beats fast. 

you were so close to him. so very, very close. he thought he was going to have a heart attack. he could smell you and to him, you smell so delicious and sweet; like vanilla cheesecake. 

“this is not good for my heart.” he mumbles to himself. 

“by the way” you begin. jisung looks at you. you slide a cold coffee and cheesecake in the middle of you both. “told you i’d stick to my end of the bargain.”

“i didn't expect you to do it so soon, yn. it's only the first session.”

you shrug. “a deals a deal.” jisung takes the cheesecake and coffee, sipping on it and humming softly as the bitter, cold taste coats his tastebuds and the caffeine enters his system.

“i didn't know what flavoured cheesecake you like so i hope it's ok.”

“what flavour is it?”

“strawberry”

“mhm, not bad.”

“you don't like strawberry?” you say with a small pout. he shrugs.

“it's fine. not the worst. but it's too sweet for me. i’m a vanilla kinda guy.”

“aah, ok. i’ll make a mental note of that.” you say as you tap your temple, laughing softly. jisung lets out a small puff of air from his nose. you see the corner of his lips curl into a small and that makes you feel like he's accepted you.

“now, enough chitchat. i actually want to be done in a decent time so, let's begin?”

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

“sooooo” jisung looks up at minho, his chopsticks half hanging from his mouth, resting on his bottom lip.

the smell of spicy, instant ramen fills the air. minho cooked some food for the two of them as they have both been studying hard for upcoming tests and assignments. 

instant ramen with a slice of cheese on top. rice cakes, fish cakes and other yummy goodnesss swim in the broth. the kitchen looks a mess, pots and pans scattered everywhere–it contributes to the rest of the dorm with the various clothing and shoes scattered around.

“soooo…” jisung repeats, eyebrows raised. his bangs are tied back in a pink hair tie (your pink hair tie), a white vest top and sweats on his body. minho is also in sweats but with an anime print t-shirt and a sanrio clip to hold back his bangs and a pore strip on his nose; getting tighter and tighter by the second.

“have you asked her yet?”

“asked her what?” jisung takes some noodles and a fish cake, putting them on a small, separate plate before grabbing some kimchi.

“dude.” minho rolls his eyes and lets out a long, irritable groan. “for being smart, you sure are dumb.”

“you're just dumb through and through.” jisung smiles playfully as minho sticks his middle finger up at his best friend.

“fuck you.” minho takes a rice cake that's soaked in the ramen broth. he chews it, the sound of sticky, chewy rice cake emits from his mouth. “anyways! have you asked yn about the party?”

jisung lets out a slow grunt. “not this again, minho.” 

“what?!” minho says with a shrug as he continues to chew and talk.

“i already told you, and eeeeveryone else. i don't want a party or anything of the sort, minho. i just want it to be a nice, quiet day.” jisung’s eyes drift to the half chewed rice cake that's being tossed around in minho's mouth. he pulls a face in disgust. “and can you please not talk with your mouth full?”

“you're such a prude.” minho rolls his eyes but swallows his food regardless. “anyways, you know me, changbin and chan won't let you have a quiet birthday!”

“yeah, no shit.” jisung rolls his eyes as he slurps on his noodles. he wipes his mouth with a napkin before munching on some kimchi. “still don't understand why you all decided to plan a birthday party without my knowledge knowing full well i said no in the beginning.”

“dude, you're so boring.” minho jests. “it's your birthday!” he emphasise. “you're supposed to have a party, eat lots of cake and junk. drink beer, hang out with friends and maybe, get laid.”

he wiggles his eyebrows at jisung and laughs softly. with a heavy sigh, jisung puts his chopsticks down.

“no matter what, you're going to go through with this, aren't you?” 

“yup!” minho obnoxiously pops the P. “plus, things have already been ordered and organised for it. we already have a few people who confirmed they're attending.”

“who?”

“mhm–” minho puts down his chopsticks and thinks, looking at the ceiling as he does. “felix from fashion design. hyunjin from art. seungmin from business studies and jeongin who is also from fashion design.”

“how do you know all these people?”

“well, unlike some–” minho's eyes widen as he looks at jisung, indicating he's talking about him in particular “–some of us actually get out. plus, chan is like a social butterfly and changbin is charismatic. put them two together and well, people can't say no.”

“yeah, true. i remember when they begged me to work on a track or something for their music assignment.” 

“they both practically dragged you to do it.” minho laughs.

“only because you told them i said yes without me knowing about the situation!”

“because i knew you'd say no! you have a talent for this stuff, jisung. don't let it go to waste.”

“thanks.” he mumbles, hanging his head low in embarrassment and awkwardness.

“is that… is that a blush i see?!” minho smirks.

“me? blush? for you?! hell no!” jisung frowns. “the ramen is spicy, that's all.”

“dude… it's mild.”

“...fuck you.”

“so, are you going to ask yn or nah?”

“if it gets you and everyone else off my back, then sure”

“good. make sure you do!” jisung opens and closes his hand, mimicking minho's yapping.

“yeah yeah yeah. can we stop talking about this party and eat?”

“just looking out for ya, man. i know how much you like ‘em!” 

“i know. i appreciate it, minho.” minho nods and continues eating the ramen. jisung, on the other hand, is now lost in thought.

how the hell is he going to get the courage to ask you something like that?

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

the study sessions are slowly coming to end. you kept up with your end of the deal, providing jisung with an endless amount of coffees and cheesecakes whilst he has provided you with an endless amount of insights.

one thing you have learnt about him is that he is smart. he knows how to do things with just a quick glance. he's good at explaining things so it's not confusing. 

you've been stuck on a problem for some time and no amount of teachers advice and youtube videos helped you. all it took was five minutes of jisung explaining the solution and it clicked.

today, however, you are alone in the library. jisung messaged you to let you know that he wasn't going to make it. you felt sad and a little heartbroken–you’ve become so accustomed to jisung's presence that you feel a little cold and lonely right now.

you can't concentrate. the music you're blasting down your ears isn't helping either. the text in your book is slowly starting to merge into one big splooge of text. the information just isn't getting through to you and it's frustrating.

you sit back in your seat and sigh as you take your headphones off and throw them on the table. 

“this is pointless.” you mumble. “i can't concentrate. maybe i should just skip it.”

you take your phone and browse through social media before subconsciously opening up the food app. your mouth salivates as you look at the various burgers, fries, pizza and sweet treats–and then your stomach growls.

“maybe i’m just hungry. that's why i can't concentrate.” you pack your things and head to the university cafeteria. the menu looks dull so you settle on a simple sandwich and drink.

the cafeteria is packed. the atmosphere is buzzing with the endless chatter of students. you take your seat and pick up your sandwich.

it's a standard ham salad sandwich with some dressing on. the slices of ham and lettuce (too much lettuce for that matter), tomatoes and other salad stuff squished together by two slices of thick, white bread, smothered in dressing.

you take a few bites. it's ok. it's not bad but you've had better. the bread is a little dry for your liking but the dressing takes that away. you open the cap of your bottled drink and take a few swigs to help wash it down.

“what do we have here?” you turn your head in the direction of the voice–that thick aussie accent you know all too well.

“ew. go away chan. you're disturbing my peace.” 

“charming. don't think that's something you should say to someone you haven't seen in a while.” he says with a pout as he walks to your table and sits down. he's joined by another man, a friend of his, perhaps. he sits opposite you.

“and whose fault is that, huh? maybe if you answered my calls or texts every once in a while.”

“sorry, yn. i’m just a busy man, y’know.” chan grins as he leans back in his seat, brimming with confidence.

“yeah. too busy being the campus whore.”

“blah blah blah. least i’m getting some.” he elbows you in the side a few times. “what are you getting, huh?” he jests.

“a degree? y'know that thing i came here for in the first place.”

“oh ha ha. very funny, yn.” chan mocks, rolling his eyes at you before stealing your sandwich and taking a bite.

the male opposite you clears his throat as a way of telling you both “hi, i’m still here.”

“oh! yn, this is minho. minho, yn.” minho's eyes widen a little and his lips twitch into a small smile.

“so, you're yn. nice to put a face to the name.“ he grins.

“you know me?” you blink a few times in confusion.

“i’m jisung’s roommate.” you mentally slap yourself. of course!

“oh my god. i’m so sorry. i didn't realise! i’m so bad with names.” you whine. minho laughs and brushes it off.

“and how do you know jisung, yn?” chan says with a mouthful of food; your food to be exact. you glare at him, daggers darting out of your eyes and straight into chan as you snatch your sandwich back off him.

“jisung’s my private tutor as of right now.”

“oh.” chan nods before his eyes suddenly light up. he looks at minho for confirmation. “wait, hold up.”

minho nods and smirks. “nah. really?!” you watch the two men talk in code as they communicate by facial expressions and a stings of “ohs” and “yeahs”

“uh, hello. i’m still here!” minho laughs softly.

“sorry, yn.” you shrug it off and eat your sandwich. “how do you two know each other by the way. chan has never mentioned you before.”

“good. keep it that way.” you say coldly, mainly aiming it at chan. chan pouts and nuzzles into you, head on shoulder. he looks at you with puppy eyes and a pout.

“aww. don't be like that, bestie. you secretly love me.” you flick his forehead.

“me and chan are childhood friends. haven't been able to get rid of him since.” chan smiles at your sweet implication. “he's like a parasite. or a fruit fly in the summer.” his smile drops and now, it's your turn to give chan a big, sarcastic grin–teeth and all.

“rude.” he mumbles. you shrug and finish off your sandwich. 

“so, jisung is your tutor.” minho speaks. you nod.  “are you attending his party?” 

“party? what party?” you look at chan and minho. minho sighs a little and runs his fingers through his hair.

“i warned him.” he mumbles under his breath in irritation before looking at you and smiling softly. “me, chan and a few others are organising a birthday party for jisung.”

“his birthday is coming up?!” your eyes widen. “when? i should get him a gift”

“14th.”

“14th?! that's pretty soon.” you mumble.

“jisung told me he would invite you.” you shake your head no. minho rubs the back of his neck. “well, this is awkward.” 

“it’s ok. maybe he has his reasons as to why he didn't mention it to me. no biggie.” you say with a smile. minho nods before a few minutes of silence dawn upon the three of you.

“out of curiosity.” you break the silence. “how is jisung in general?” minho tilts his head to the side. “it's just he seems so….” you think for a second, thinking of the right (and nice) word to use “... cold towards me.”

“cold?” 

“mhm. he seems so bitter towards me and i don't know why. we barely even talked in class but when we did, he would always tell me i’m making too much noise and to hush.” you slowly start to feel slightly irritated. 

“jisung is fine with me.” he says with a. shrug. “he's pretty chill around me.” you huff.

“i know he can be friendly because whenever i see him in the corridors talking to someone, he smiles and is so friendly!”

“what’s he likes now, yn?”

“well, now that we've been spending more time with each other, he's… i don't know… avoiding me to some degree? he won't make eye contact with me. he doesn't like it when i touch him.”

chan raises his brow and looks at minho, both men thinking the same thing. chan puts you in a gentle headlock and ruffles your hair.

“hey!! get off me!!” you push chan a few times, using all your strength to make him release you.

“you're pretty naive, yn.” chan laughs, continuing to ruffle your hair. he ignores your screams and yells, minho laughing at the two of you.

finally, chan let's you go. you push him with all the strength you have left before fixing your hair and glaring at him. chan pouts and nuzzles into you once again.

“i’m sorry, yn. forgive me?” he puckers his lips and makes kissing noises, edging closer and closer to you. you hold him at arm's length.

“ok ok!! just quit doing that!!” chan laughs and pats your head gently.

as fast as he was in the cafeteria, jisung is soon out of it after seeing you and chan, with nothing but festering jealousy in his stomach.

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

you bounce through the library to your designated spot at the very back, coffee and cheesecake in each hand with your bag swinging on your shoulder.

jisung is there, punctual, as always. but something seems a little off. the air around him seems thick and suffocating–dark even. 

“hey!” your cheerful voice ringing in his ears, making his heart beat fast. you sit next to him and slide over the coffee and cheesecake.

today he's dressed in a yellow and orange flannel shirt and white tank-top. black jeans and boots to accommodate. a few of his nails are painted in black, chipping from wear and tear.

he gives you a cold nod of the head. you frown a little but choose to ignore it as you take your books and pens out of your bag.

“so, what's the plan for today?” jisung shrugs. “...ok, well how about we go over that question i was struggling with?”

“k” he reluctantly moves closer to you. the scent of cinnamon and vanilla wafts towards you and tickles your nostrils, making you let out a small hum of satisfaction.

“you smell good, jisung.”

“mhm, thanks.” you let out a silent sigh. something is wrong with him and you don't know why. is it something you've done? something you haven't done? 

jisung is being very dry and sour with you. his usual method of teaching you is that he would go into detail and repeat until you'd understand it, today, however, he's very short and sharp.

“i don't understand.” you say. jisung sighs, a long irritated sigh. you bite your lip, thinking that you've done something to hurt him in any possible way.

“what don't you get?”

“all of it…” he sighs again and rubs his face. his eyebrows furrow together in irritation. the jealousy he is feeling in his stomach is festering, becoming more and more intense.

every time he looks at you, he is reminded of the way you and chan were together. he hates that. how could you fall for someone like chan? he thought you were better than that. his head swimming with negative and harsh thoughts.

before he can stop himself, the words just spill without any control. “why don't you get chan to do it for you.”

you blink. “chan? what does he have to do with this?”

“i mean, you two are close are you not?”

“i mean.. well, yeah, i guess.” you shrug. “he does get on my nerves sometimes though. he is such a pain! but he's a good gu–”

“i thought you were better than that, yn.’ he spits.

“the fuck is that supposed to mean?” you feel the bubbling of rage in your stomach as you stare at jisung, who stares at you back. the jealousy has consumed his body and it's too late to back out now.

“as in, i thought you had standards. chan? of all people? he's a whore, yn. everyone knows that he sleeps around on campus and you chose him?!”

“i don't appreciate the way you're talking about him, jisung.”

“it’s the truth, yn! and you know it so why are you with him?! you can do sooo much better than him!!”

“oh yeah?” you challenge. “then who is good for me, mhm? please, enlighten me?” 

jisung freezes. he looks away and chews his bottom lip. you scoff and pack your things in a hurry.

“i don't have to listen to this bullshit. you've been in a shit mood with me this whole time, which is fine. everyone has bad days. what's not ok, however, is you taking it out on me and bad mouthing the people i care about.” you stand up, swinging your bag onto your shoulder. jisung stares at one spot of the desk, burning holes into it. “text me when you're in a better mood.”

you walk out, leaving jisung to think about what he has just done.

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

“jisunggggg. sungieeee. knock, knock. let me innn!” the sound of minho's high-pitched, cheery voice irritates jisung to the bone. he lets out a slow and irritated groan, hot puffs of air slowly exhaling from his nostrils.

he pushes his glasses up his nose and runs his fingers through his unwashed hair. sitting at his desk in the same baggy band t-shirt and sweats from a few days ago, he checks his phone for the nth time, only to be disappointed.

he hasn't spoken to you nor seen you since that day. in class, it's worse. he's tried to catch your eye a few times, smiling when he does, only for you to turn away. he spent days loathing in his own self pity, locking himself up in his room and only coming out for food, bathroom breaks and class.

minho has had enough. not only is jisung's mood ruining the atmosphere, but minho has no idea as to what happened that day. he was home when jisung came back to the dorm, looking like he was on the verge of tears. 

when he asked, jisung always gave the same answer of “mind your own business.”–and he has; for several days now.

“let me in, jisung.” the repetitive sounds of minho's knuckles against the wood door cause jisung's stomach to bubble more intensely with anger–until he finally snaps.

he rushes to the door and swings it open, brows furrowed together. minho's smug grin makes him foam at the mouth.

“what part of leave me alone don't you understand, minho?” jisung's words dripping with poison. minho shrugs it off.

“all of it.” he pushes past jisung, making himself at home in his bedroom. jisung has no time to protest, all he can do is watch his best friend jump on his bed and rest on his back, arms behind his head.

with a heavy sigh, jisung walks back to his desk. he turns his back on him, hoping that if he ignores his friend, he will get bored and eventually leave. minho watches his friend pick up and put down his phone several times to the point where minho feels irritated by it.

“so?” minho starts

“so?” jisung repeats

“going to tell me what's happened? haven't seen you this down in a while.”

“nope. i'm good.”

“you can't keep moping around the place, jisung.”

“i can and i will.” minho groans and stands up, walking out of the bedroom. jisung mentally cheers only for it to be cut short when minho throws his jacket at jisung.

“put it on.” it's more of a demand than a sentence, but nonetheless, jisung obliges because if he doesn't, minho will force it on him.

“where are we going?”

“to the cafe.” minho puts on his shoes, jisung following suit.

“aah, dude.. i don't really fe–”

“shut up, we're going to the cafe whether you want to or not. a change of scenery might cheer your moody ass up because, to be quite honest, i’m tired of seeing your gloomy ass face.” he looks at jisung who is frowning at him. “in the nicest way possible, of course.”

jisung rolls his eyes before following minho to the local (and one of his favourite) cafes. 

it's a small, local café with an old fashioned sense of style to it. the tables and chairs are worn. cushions on the chairs losing their stuffing and the tables scratched and chipped. the décor is outdated, indicating that the café has been there for quite a few years; but it feels like home to some.

the bell above the door chimes as minho and jisung walk in. they walk to the counter and say their orders before taking their lunch and drinks and sitting at a table.

jisung takes a sip of the coffee. he feels the ice cold beverage trickling down his esophagus and into his empty stomach. minho munches on his chicken salad sandwich, watching his friend look in his drink and ponder.

“i fucked up.” jisung mumbles, lost in thought. the more he thinks about you, the more he can feel the tears threaten to spill down his cheeks. minho tilts his head to the side and as he is about to open his mouth and encourage his friend to continue, a familiar sound in the form of a laugh causes jisung's head to shoot up and look in that direction.

his eyes widen. he feels relief and happy to see a smile finally on your face; but then that same, the green monster in the form of jealousy parks itself on his shoulder and starts whispering in his ear.

minho watches jisung's jaw muscles clench. his facial expression goes from relief to jealousy. minho follows jisung's gaze and raises his brow at the sight of you and chan.

chan is being his usual, goofy self. he's telling you typical dad jokes and being a little grotest by telling you his latest hook-up details. you push him by the arm and roll your eyes, sipping your coffee in the process. chan continues to joke around with you, play fighting a little by wrapping his arm around the back of your neck loosely and rubbing the top of your head with his knuckles.

“i can't fucking stand this.” jisung mutters bitterly under his breath. minho turns and looks at his friend who is green with jealousy.

“stand what?”

“seeing someone as precious and innocent as yn be with someone like chan!” minho blinks a few times.

“what do you… jisung, what do you think yn and chans relationship is?”

“isnt it obvious? they're going out!” minho gives jisung a few blank stares and blinks before bursting out into laughter, choking on his own saliva in the process. “what?!” 

jisungs cheeks flush red with embarrassment but also with anger. his own friend laughing at his statement, finding amusement in his sorrows.

“are you serious? please tell me you're joking?” minho stutters through his giggles.

“dead serious.” jisung says, deadpan. “don't you see the way they are with each other? i saw you all the other day, in the cafeteria! chan's arm around yn and them being all…. lovey!!” 

“oh my god.” minho calms himself down. “you really are serious!”

“i told you! i even asked yn about it and well… it didn't go so well.”

“is that why you've been so moody and upset lately?” jisung nods his head slowly, feeling some type of guilt. minho sighs heavily, wondering how he can soften the blow of the news he's about to give his best friend.

“jisung…” minho starts. “yn and chan are not dating.” jisung's face drops.

“excuse me?”

“they're not dating. they're just childhood best friends. apparently they've known each other since they were kids. “

“so you're telling me.. that i got it all wrong when i saw you three in the cafeteria?“ minho slowly nods whilst giving a sympathetic smile. jisung sits back in his seat in disbelief. “why did chan never mention yn?! fuck, i fucked up… i really, really fucked up…” 

“oh, c’mon. it can't be that bad.” minho tries to lighten the situation.

“dude. i told her i thought she had standards! i called her best friend a whore!”

“i mean, chan is a whore. he knows he is and he doesn't hid–”

“dude, please.” jisung interrupts. “not right now.” minho shrugs and sips his coffee whilst jisung rubs his face whilst groaning. “what do i do?”

“well.” minho puts down his coffee. “you make it right. admit you were in the wrong. explain how you were a jealous lil guy because you like her and that you fucked up.”

“and how do i do that? she’s been avoiding me for weeks and it’s not like i can go up to her right now and be like oh hey yn, sorry i called your best friend a whore oh, by the way, i like you.” jisung mocks himself in a high pitched voice, his face turning red in frustration.

“you're so dramatic.” minho rolls his eyes with a soft, yet heavy sigh. “for a smart guy, you're pretty dumb too.”

“pft, am not!” jisung scoffs and folds his arms across his chest. “... only when it comes to stuff like this.” he mumbles. “i just… don't know what to do or how to fix it. i really, really like her, minho.”

“ok? and? what do you want me to do about it? there's no point telling me about your feelings for yn. i'm not the one that fucked up and then decided to hold myself up in my room to drown in my own self-pity.” minho says with a shrug.

to the outside world, minho's words sound harsh but to jisung, it's a reality check. 

he sighs softly for the nth time as he glances over at you. he watches you laugh and smile with chan, soaking in your beauty and the way you glow with happiness. 

“to make it easier for you.” minho breaks the few seconds of silence between the two, feeling a little responsible for his friend in need. “i may have mentioned your birthday party to yn.”

“what?! why?”

“bro, you weren't going to mention it! so i just.. did you a favour.” minho shrugs, a smug look on his face.

“... is she coming?”

minho shrugs. “dunno. she seemed interested at least but this was before you called her best friend a whore so–”

“that was an accident. i didn't mean to.. i just got too–”

“worked up? jealous perhaps?” minho says, or rather states, with a raised brow. jisung hums and nods his head slowly, teeth chewing on his bottom lip. 

minho chews on his straw as he watches his friend think. he can see the cogs turning in jisung's skull. jisung is inexperienced when it comes to relationships so seeing him like this, brings minho slight amusement.

“look, jisung. if she turns up, you approach her and apologise whilst also telling her how you feel.” minho holds his hand up to jisung who is just about to protest but is quick to close his mouth and listen. “if she doesn't turn up, you find her the next day, apologise and tell her how you feel. heck, text her if you have to!”

“dude… you know i can't do that!”

“ok. then you have the other option, which is to keep wallowing in your self pity and watch yn from the sidelines.” minho shrugs. “i don't know dude. be the main character for once. you clearly like her so take the chance.”

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

jisung's birthday rolled around. you haven't heard nor spoken to him since the argument so you didn't originally plan on turning up to his birthday party; but chan being chan is forcing you to go as his plus one.

“is this ok?” you smooth down your party outfit as you present yourself to chan. chan is sitting at your dressing table, dressed in blue, skinny jeans, a compression shirt that hugs and molds his muscles and combat boots. a silver chain around his neck, earrings in one ear and a few rings on his fingers.

he looks up from his phone and smirks playfully. he wolf whistles at you to which you scoff and roll your eyes at.

“looking good there, yn.”

“really? i threw this together at the last minute.’

“you look great, don't worry. you're gonna knock ‘em dead.” chan laughs.

“i really don't want to go, chan.” you groan.

“weeeell, too late. you're coming with me to this party, even if i have to throw you over my shoulder and carry you there.”

chan has heard about your little argument with jisung from minho. the two of them had a drink together during the week and chan listened to minho vent about jisung.

once minho mentioned the fight did it all come together. you've been feeling down and withdrawn, not knowing what to do or how to deal with your feelings. you've put on a fake smile and basically faked your way through the weeks–but chan has known you for years so he can see through you, he just didn't want to press you.

you'll come to him when the time is right; you always do.

“do i have to?” you ask for the nth time whilst putting on your shoes. chan laughs at your contradicting actions and shakes his head before standing up.

“yes, you do. it'll be fun and hopefully, it'll lift your spirits.” you pout.

“i have been a little moody lately, haven't i?” chan raises his brows and scoffs.

“a little!? pur-lease! i thought knives were going to spawn out of your eyes at one point.”

“mhm.. i’m sorry chan. it's just been a long couple of weeks with a lot of thinking.” you sigh softly. chan elbows your side gently.

“hey. let's not think about that right now. let's go to this party, have a couple of drinks and a dance, yeah?” you nod slowly.

“not like i have a say in this.”

“that's my girl. now.” chan grabs your hand gently and pulls you to the front door. “let's go have some fuuuun!!!”

────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──────⋆⋅☆⋅⋆──

it's loud. the bass of the music rings in your ears and shakes the ground beneath you.

it smells. the stench of stale cigarettes, sweat and alcohol tickles your nostrils and causes you to feel lightheaded and nauseous.

you've tried several times to turn away and head back but chan was always right there.

chan abandoned you to go chat up some girls so you're sat on the sofa, surrounded by people making out, drinking or passing out (if they haven't already)

you hold your red, plastic solo cup which is filled halfway with some punch. the smell is pungent and the taste is awful. it's too strong for your liking so you take small, delicate sips.

as the night rolls on, you have yet to see jisung. not that you want to but, it would help you feel some comfort and less suffocated to see a familiar face.

you glance at your phone screen. 11:20 pm. it's soon time for you to leave. you don't want to be here any longer than you have to and considering that chan has left you alone, you don't feel the need to be here any more.

you stand up from the couch to walk to the kitchen. you shimmy your way in and out of crowds of people who are dancing, talking or making out with someone that they won't remember tomorrow.

you pour your drink down the sink and throw away your empty cup. as you're about to turn and leave, a familiar voice is heard from behind.

“yn. hi.”

you turn on your heels and a sense of relief washes over you as you come face to face with a face you've been longing to see (even if you don't want to admit it)

you forget why you're so angry at him for a split second. his beauty never fails to make you feel star struck and silently go “wow.” but then you remember.

“hi.” you reply coldly.

“can i talk to you?” he shouts, hoping his voice isn't drowned out by the music.

“not right now. i was just about to leave.” you walk past him to leave. jisung grabs your arm gently to stop you. you look at him and he is quick to remove his hand.

“please? just… let me explain…” he chews his bottom lip, his brows scrunched together in the middle. you think for a second and sigh softly, nodding slowly.

“ok. fine. but make it quick.” you swear you see the corner of jisung's lips curl into a subtle smile, his eyes lighting up a little. he beckons you to follow him so you do.

you follow him outside. compared to inside, where it's hot and humid, the harsh, cold night air is refreshing and soothes your damp skin.

“look.” he starts as he stops walking to turn to you. “i know i was a complete asshole.” you scoff but don't say anything. “it's just… aah fuck, how do i say this.”

you watch jisung slowly become flustered. the tips of his ears turn red, his hands clammy as he shakes a little. he shuffles on his feet to shift his weight and avoids eye contact with you.

“fuck.. this is so hard… minho said it'd be easy once i get talking but fuck minho.” jisung rambles to himself. the anger you felt slowly disappears and is replaced with… joy? 

your stomach feels a little bubbly and tingly with excitement as you watch this nerd, whom you've grown so accustomed to, become easily flustered and shy because of you.

“just say what's on your mind, jisung.” you say with a shrug. his eyes flicker at you for a second before looking to the ground.

“ok.. well…” he takes a deep breath. ”i like you and i always have and the reason why i got so pissed and called chan a whore, who i later found out was your childhood best friend, was because i was jealous of how close he was to you and i saw red and i didn't mean it. in fact, i've been cooped up in my bedroom in my own self-pity because i'm a coward and i don't deserve someone as wonderful as you and i’m really sorry. can you forgive me for being a lil silly?”

you blink at him several times. jisung dared take a breath during his little speech so all the information that has suddenly been laid on you, isn't going through your head right now.

“ah fuck.. i fucked up again, haven't i?” jisung shakes, his voice wavering as it breaks the tension in the air. his nerves shaking his body as a shaky hand picks at the skin around his fingernails. “god i knew i shouldn't have said anything. why did i take minho's dumb advice.”

“i… i don't know what to say, jisung. it's all so much.” you say in pure shock.

“oh, that's ok! i’m not looking for an answer right now. please, take your time. i just wanted you to know my true feelings and why i acted out. the last thing i want is for you to feel forced.”

“so let me get this straight. the reason you acted out is because you got jealous of chan, thinking that we were dating?” you watch jisung slowly nod his head, his cheeks turning pink; whether that's from embarrassment or from the harsh cold air. “and that you.. like me?”

jisung nods again. “silly, right?” he laughs, trying to soothe himself of the raging anxiety that's heavy in his heart and stomach.

“no.. no! not at all. i think it's kinda… cute.” 

“cute?”

“yeah. i mean, well, being away from you has got me thinking about me, you and well.. us and how i feel.” jisung walks closer to you, closing the gap between you both.

“and how do you feel, yn?” you swallow a little. the atmosphere has suddenly shifted between you both. jisung is close to you, his body daring to press against you.

you can see every detail of his honey skin under the faint moonlight. the cold breeze sweeps between his hair strands. a faint hint of cinnamon and apple from his aftershave tickles and hugs your nose making you inhale deeply for more.

“at first, i was angry at you. i didn't understand why you were so angry. but i spoke to chan about it and during the conversation, he made me realise something.”

“what?” jisung encourages. he gingerly places his hands on your waist, unsure and testing the waters. his touch is as light as a feather and when you don't push him away, his grip becomes firm. 

“that maybe, i like you too and i have for the longest time. i just never realised it because i thought you hated me but, when we spent all that time together, i started to notice the smallest of things about you and i found them to be so cute. but they're cute because it's you.” 

you slowly run your hands up his chest to his shoulder. his breath hitches and body trembles from your touch. with more confidence, jisung pulls your body flush against his own, closing the gap completely.

“so, you like me too?” his voice dips to a whisper. you hum and nod slowly. “do you have any idea how happy that makes me?”

“why don't you show me.” you whisper against his lips, teasing him by brushing yours against his slowly and gently. they feel soft and plump, kissable even. 

“you're playing a dangerous game, yn. you have no idea how long i've wanted you.”

“show me.” you whisper again, furthering your teasing by ever so lightly licking his bottom lip with the tip of your tongue.

“fuck.” jisung groans. his lips crash against yours in a heated kiss that's filled with longing. your eyes widen a little but are quick to flutter close. you melt into the kiss, the both of you becoming synchronised instantly.

you tilt your head to the side a little to allow jisung to deepen the kiss. he licks your bottom lip and you part your lips slowly.

his tongue slides in to meet yours and you're in a battle of dominance that you lose. jisung's hot kisses make you melt and crave for more. you forget about your surroundings, forget where you are. everything is a buzz in your ears and you can only focus on you, jisung and how your body is tingling and twitching.

jisung is the first to pull away. he pants heavily, his own body trembling with excitement. 

“wow.” you hum in agreement. as soon as his lips are off yours, you want them back on you again; whether that's on your own lips or on your body, you don't care as long as you get to feel the softness again.

“is this real?” he asks.

“it's real.” you respond, giggling softly. “and i’m not drunk either so.”

“so, what does this make us?” jisung cautiously asks. he wants to have an idea of what you two are slowly becoming. he wants to make sure you're both on the same page.

“whatever you want us to be, jisung.”

“well, i want you to be mine. i want to show you off to the world, proudly. i want everyone to know that you belong to me. i want to spend every single second of the day with you and during the night, i want to spend every single second caressing your body from head to toe. i want to soak myself in every single bit of detail from your body. i want to drown you in pleasure and my love.” 

you swallow and let out a small, shaky breath at the implications behind his words. your body trembles with excitement and anticipation from where tonight is going to end and for the future with jisung.

“then.. shall we go ditch the party and go back to mine? because i want that too.” with a fast nod of the head, jisung holds your hand and is quick to make way to yours.

“let's go and let's be quick. i want to make you mine, in more ways than one.”

[grooveology]

. . . haha . . . imagine being tashi's childhood best friend, growing up beside her and getting into stanford together . . . meeting patrick and art then she starts dating patrick but reader is never left out (and neither is art) hmmm why does patrick wrap his arms around readers waist?? why does tashi smile at the sight??? why is art so touchy with tashi AND in front of patrick??? why are you all so affectionate?

i may have gone a bit overboard, but i did kind of forget about tashi x art sorry ): hope this gives your genius thoughts justice!!

you and tashi? the epitome of the sun and moon, two peas in a pot—but with way more codependency than either of you would admit to. you were attached by the hip. how could you not be? you grew up together, lived on the same street, went to the same school, and eventually went to the same university. you were each other's first kiss, first makeout, first homoerotic friendship! it was only natural for you two to share boyfriends–friends. you aren't sure how it happened, but one night you both meet patrick zweig and art donaldson (although, they were both on your radars way before the party.) the boys immediately take an interest in you and tashi, inviting you over to their hotel room. surprise, surprise, you both make an appearance.

patrick shares his touching story about teaching art how to jerk off and suddenly tashi gives you a look and you can't help but burst into laughter. okay, alright, maybe you were a tad bit drunk. you snort, laugh, and then, before you can stop yourself, the words slip out.

"that reminds me of the time when tash offered to give me kissing lessons."

tashi, unfazed as ever, takes a casual sip of her beer and grins.

“well, you were nervous about kissing guys,” she says, her tone maddeningly matter-of-fact. “you needed all the help you could get.”

you groan, burying your face in your hands. "tash—oh my god.”

now, it was patrick who bursts out laughing, nearly spilling his drink. “wait, wait. are we talking, like, full-on tutorial?”

“shut up,” you mutter, cheeks burning. “it wasn’t like that.”

oh, but it was!

art is too amused by the conversation to say anything, but you can feel him watching. his pretty blue eyes flicker between you and tashi, it's almost like he’s taking mental notes on this whole conversation.

"what?” you snap, more defensive than you mean to be.

art’s grin widens just a fraction, and he takes a sip of his beer, shrugging. “nothing. just… you two are close. closer than most."

you don’t know how to respond to that, but tashi, of course, doesn’t miss a beat.

“so are you two,” she says casually, her eyes flicking toward the beds shoved together at the center of the room.

and somehow, just like that, the room shifts. one thing leads to before you know it, your lips are on tashi’s, soft and searching, the taste of beer and laughter still lingering in her mouth. patrick’s mouth finds art’s, and the sound—a soft, startled hitch of breath—pulls your attention for half a second. you glance over, catching the way art’s hand curls around patrick’s neck, pulling him closer.

and then, somehow, art’s lips are on yours. the shift happens so naturally it barely registers—his mouth is soft, he's not rushing, instead, he's savoring as if he's trying to memorize the feel of you.

besides you, patrick’s mouth crashes against tashi's with urgency, his kisses hungry, almost desperate, as though he’s been holding back all night and finally let the dam break.

since that night, things changed—with art now attending stanford alongside you, and patrick going pro (yet he always found a way to visit) the four of you only grew closer.

patrick and tashi were the first to make it “official.” you’d think that would’ve made you the third wheel but no. it was the opposite. they invited you and art to their dates. your opinion mattered—on everything. what they wore, where they went, what they ate.

you and art? you were “friends.” friends who held hands when no one was looking—or even when they were. friends who kissed each other at parties or on lazy afternoons when the sun hit his dorm room just right.

and then there was patrick. it didn’t matter that he was tashi’s boyfriend—there were nights when his mouth found yours instead, kisses that were playful but lingering, his hand never failing to slip to your waist.

tashi never seemed bothered. if anything, she found it amusing. eventually, she’d roll her eyes, a small smile twitching at her lips. "he’s a sloppy kisser, isn’t he?” she’d say, tone so casual it could’ve been about the weather.

"i'm a great kisser." patrick would shoot back defensively, pulling away from you.

“sure,” tashi would reply, deadpan, her eyes cutting to yours like she was about to make a point. she’d tug you away from patrick and kiss you herself—wolfishly and possessively.

when she pulled back, her lips still brushing yours, a small smirk played on her face as she turned her attention to patrick, just as quickly, her gaze shifted back to you. her smirk softened into something almost affectionate—almost.

"i’m the better kisser,”

oh, and patrick and art? they were affectionate with each other too, in their own way. patrick was never shy about grabbing art’s thigh in the middle of a conversation, drawing lazy patterns. and art had his ways of showing care—kissing patrick’s head or brushing a soft kiss against his lips whenever he had to leave for a tennis match.

despite it all, though, you and tashi were the closest.

when patrick was away, you made sure to take care of her, her legs would part for your fingers found her cunt, moving slowly at first, then deeper, curling just right until soft gasps turned into desperate moans that filled your shared dorm room.

“tashi, you look so pretty." you murmured, your lips brushing her neck as she arched beneath you, her head tilted back, her breath hitching as your thumb found her clit, drawing lazy circles that sent her spiraling.

and tashi? she had her ways, too. every morning, she’d wake you with a kiss, her lips brushing yours softly and every night, she’d kiss you again—she’d press you up against the wall, her breath warm against your skin as her hands pushed down the shorts you’d “borrowed” from her.

her fingers found you easily, sliding between your thighs, drawing out a gasp as her lips trailed down your neck. “mine,” she’d murmur against your skin, a claim as much as a reminder.

at the end of the day, it was always you and her. the boys were just playthings, distractions from the way her nails dug into your skin, the taste of her on your lips, the way she said your name like a prayer. you were hers, and she was yours—always.

[dietcokegirly12]

"Beautifully Scarred"

featuring osamu dazai

｡ﾟ┈ ₊˚⊹ ⤜♡ ┈ ｡ﾟ┈ ₊˚⊹ ⤜♡ ┈ ｡ﾟ┈ ₊˚⊹ ⤜♡ ┈ ｡ﾟ┈ ₊

art found on pinterest !! ˗ˋˏ ♡ ˎˊ˗

｡ﾟ┈ ₊˚⊹ ⤜♡ ┈ ｡ﾟ┈ ₊˚⊹ ⤜♡ ┈ ｡ﾟ┈ ₊˚⊹ ⤜♡ ┈ ｡ﾟ┈ ₊

synopsis: soft, intimate sex with dazai, where he unwraps his bandages and shows reader his scars for the first time, unveiling the most vulnerable parts of himself.

a/n: this idea has been in my head for a while now, so i had to write it, especially because this topic is kind of personal to me, and i truly can't imagine anything more romantic than the love that comes from accepting another's body, no matter how broken or scarred.

word count: 1.2k

tags: mentions of sh scars, intimate sex, slight teasing

₊˚⊹ ─ 𓄧 𓊔 𓄧 𓊔 𓄧 ₊˚⊹ ─ 𓄧 𓊔 𓄧 𓊔 𓄧 ₊˚⊹ ─

osamu dazai was always wearing bandages. always.

from the time that he was in the port mafia, to when he was in the detective agency, even around you, his loving girlfriend of a couple years now, he always had white gauze wrapped over his arms, neck, chest, even his legs.

not even when you would become intimate would he take them off, bandaged hands wrapping around your hips while saccharine moans slipped out of him, some of them becoming loose and unravelling around you two in flowy white strips, but never quite revealing the flawed skin that hid underneath.

which is why, one morning when the light of dawn was just barely peeking through the windows, illuminating you two in a warm glow, the sleepiness of morning still upon you, you decided to find out why.

you slung one leg over his slender frame, straddling him before nestling your face in his neck, to breathe in his warm, familiar scent.

when you feel him, hard and pulsing against your stomach, you look down to see his half-lidded gaze, mouth lazily curved up.

"mornin' wood," is all he says before capturing your lips with his, one delicate hand coming to slide up your body, shifting to grind against you in slow strokes.

you giggle softly into his mouth, spreading your legs wider for him, which he eagerly takes as an opportunity to cup your pussy, already wet and seeping, quickly pulling your panties aside to swirl his fingers over you, drawing out a small moan.

you reach for the loose sweats he always sleeps in, pushing them down past his hips and drawing an involuntary shudder, as your hands dip down to stroke him gently.

"f-fuck.." he whines as teasingly, your thumb sweeps across his slit, gathering the precum that had already started to spill out.

your hand pumps up and down lightly, never quite tightening enough to his liking, as he writhes slightly, gasping, with his hips bucking into your hand for more.

"s-stop teasing.." he groans out, and finally you relent, lining yourself up with his length, before finally beginning to sink down on him, your warm heat encasing him almost immediately.

your cunt throbs and flutters around him, as he sinks fully in to the hilt, his length pressing all the way to your cervix.

you groan, never quite getting used to your boyfriend's sheer size as he presses into you, already beginning shallow thrusts in and out with warm palms coming to cup your breasts, massaging and kneading eagerly.

you moan, leaning into him as his shirt slightly lifts up to show his toned, bandaged waist, unfurling slightly.

you quickly take the chance to lightly pull against the bandages lining him.

"why do you keep these on?" you question as his hips immediately slow, ever so slightly, hesitance clear in his eyes.

"hm? oh, I just have... scars." he admits quietly, hands coming to cover yours, where you’re toying with the bandaged strips. "not new." he rushes to add. "just.. there's a lot. i prefer to keep them covered.”

your eyes soften, as you gaze at him. “but why? there’s no reason to be ashamed of them, you know.”

“i know.” he swallows nervously, and you go to mouth kisses along his neck and collarbone.

“i’d never judge.” you murmur out. “but i understand if you’re not comfortable or you don’t trust..”

but before you can finish, dazai's nimble fingers are reaching around you and bandages are unwinding.

"i trust you."

long strips of gauze flutter around you two before settling, and then all you can see is dazai.

an expanse of pale white skin you've never laid eyes on before, marred with criss-crosses of all kind, scars, which to you, could not be more beautiful.

some pink, some white, all faded. there's so many, and almost unconsciously, your hand reaches for him, to run your hand lightly down along them, following the curve of every line.

he flinches, and you look to him, where he's averting his gaze, a blush covering his cheeks.

"oh dazai.." you breathe, beginning to kiss down along his scars. "i think you're beautiful."

he turns to you, lashes fluttering, lip pulled in between his teeth.

"so, so, so beautiful." you bury your face into his chest, nuzzling into him as your hands wander to everywhere you can reach, smoothing over the newly revealed skin that you're too eager to explore, unable to get enough.

he makes a strange sound under you, somewhere caught between a gasp and a moan. he pulls you closer, and you feel his cock twitching inside you faintly.

you smile into him, before beginning to move up and down atop him again, the sound of skin against skin quickly filling the room.

he groans, throwing his head back under you, his breathing growing heavier as his hips begin to thrust up into you, hands quickly coming to squeeze your plush thighs to lift you up and down.

you continue to trace over his scars lightly, as if you were committing them all to memory, and he arches under you, his cock hitting even deeper into your sweet spot relentlessly.

your hands come down to his sensitive nipples, rubbing and tweaking them slightly, knowing how whiney he gets when you do that.

"mmph.. m'gonna cum soon if you keep doing that, sweetheart."

you laugh, quickly breaking into a moan as his slender hips piston relentlessly into your drooling cunt, arousal dripping out of you.

you lean closer, your perky tits pressing against his bare skin for the first time, without scratchy bandages in the way, able to feel and see all of him, no matter how exposed.

you notice dazai trying to cover himself, shifting further into the blanket and lifting it over himself, but quickly you spread your hands across him, blocking it, as you ride him even faster.

"i mean it, dazai. i want to see all of you, no matter how broken. you're perfect. so, so perfect."

he stares at you, breaths heaving. "you don't think i'm repulsive?"

"how could I?" you shake your head dismissively, like the thought had never even occurred to you. "i love you."

the second the words leave your mouth, it has him gasping, eyes searching yours frantically, as he bounces you on him, almost feral with desperation. "say it again." his voice is hoarse, almost strange coming from him.

you lean closer, hips rutting almost animalistically, as your lips ghost over his. "i love you. i love you. i love you."

and then with a shudder, he's cumming, pumping you full of ribbon after ribbon of his milky white load, so much of it that it forms a creamy ring around his base.

you're not far behind, letting go with a loud moan, as your cunt twitches around him, sucking him deeper before absolutely soaking him in the wet, warmth of your release.

he's still pulsing inside you as you come back down, both of you panting with exertion, as you lay on his chest, content weighing down your limbs.

absently, you trace over his pretty scars gently, and he lets out a final moan before settling.

he glances over at you, tired eyes gazing at you with drowsy affection. "can't believe you, of all people, could love this body of mine."

you smile, moving downward to press your mouth over his warm skin. "and m'gonna kiss every scar until you do."

[30somethingautisticteacher]

Can't sleep, and this post from @v88sy inspired me.

****

Tommy had never been a deep sleeper, and his line of work made it even worse. He was more than used to the klaxon pulling him from sleep, signaling that they had a call. But that didn't prepare him for the pounding on his front door.

BOOM BOOM BOOM

Tommy looked at his phone. 12:46.

Silence. Then more pounding.

"Wake up Tommy, piece of—"

Tommy pulled open the door. "Hey Buck."

"Don't you 'hey Buck' me," came the angry response. " I'm not Buck to you. 'm Ev-n."

Oh. He was drunk.

"Okay, you're right. Hi Evan."

"You ruin-d it, T'mmy." Buck slurred, swaying slightly. "You blew us up and It's not fair."

"I'm so sorry, Evan."

"I went on some dates."

"Oh yeah?"

"Hated 'em."

"You did?"

"They all sucked," Buck mumbled.

Tommy raised his eyebrows.

"Not like that," Buck slurred, waving his hand dismissively. "They were stupid and boring."

"Really? All of them?"

"They weren't you."

"You don't want me, Evan," Tommy said quietly, his voice heavy with resignation.

"Why do you get to decide that?" Buck's voice rose with frustration. "I'm a grown man. Why do you get to tell me what I need and what I feel?"

"Evan, I'm not—" Tommy tried to interject.

"Why don't you want me?" Buck's voice cracked as he started to cry.

"Evan, that's not—" Tommy reached out instinctively but stopped himself.

"I went on a date tonight," Buck announced, his words still slurred but clearer now.

"I kinda figured," Tommy replied softly.

"He was handsome and charming." Tommy flinched at Buck's words. Buck's voice dropped to almost a whisper, "And it was awful. All I did was talk about you the whole time."

"Evan—" Tommy began gently, but Buck cut him off.

"He got frustrated. Said I was wasting his time," Buck's voice was hollow. He paused, swaying slightly. "And I was. There's no one after you, Tommy. So if you won't have me that's fine, but you're still my last. I'm giving up on love."

"You don't mean that," Tommy protested.

"Don't tell me what I mean," Buck's voice rose sharply before breaking into louder sobs. "I love you, and you ruined me for everyone else. You showed me what the world could be, and then you ripped it away." His next words came out in a rush, raw with emotion. "I am so mad at you, Tommy. But I still want you. I wanna be your boyfriend."

"You do?" Tommy's voice was barely above a whisper.

"Have you even been listening, dumbass? I'm yours. I will always be yours whether you want me or not."

"We need to talk," Tommy said carefully.

"Yeah, no shit," Buck retorted, but there was less bite to his words now.

"How about we get you inside and sober you up, and then we'll talk. Really talk."

"You mean it?" Buck asked, vulnerability creeping back into his voice.

"I do."

"Wait," Tommy reached out and wiped a stray tear off Buck's cheek. "You didn't drive here, did you?"

"Of course not. I'm clearly drunk off my ass."

"Fair enough."

"I walked. It was like 3 miles. Helped me get good and mad."

"You walked?" Tommy's voice rose with concern.

"I had to get to you and my fingers couldn't figure out how to order an Uber."

"Oh sweetheart," Tommy said softly.

"You called me sweetheart!" Buck's voice brightened despite his tears.

"Yeah, I guess I did."

"You loooove me," Buck sang out, swaying slightly.

"Evan, let's go inside," Tommy said, fighting back a smile.

"Whatever you say, boyfriend," Buck replied with drunk confidence.

Tommy shook his head fondly as he guided Buck inside. They were still broken, and it was going to take a lot of work to repair them, but Tommy knew now that they were both willing to fight for it.

[liyue-harbour]

bathroom lies, party truths

sukuna x reader, college au, best friend's brother troupe sukuna's a jerk at the start but he softens up, a little suggestive at the end ++ sukuna’s in his 4th year of college while you’re in your 2nd | masterlist

summary: yuji's throwing a party and you're just trying to survive the chaos when you end up at the wrong door— sukuna's room. your best friend's brother has always been off-limits, but tonight feels different.

you stand outside the wrong door, hand poised to knock as the loud music from the living room booms in the background. you're pretty sure that this door doesn't lead to the bathroom— scratch that, you knew that it wasn't. but before you could bail, the door swings open.

"well this is unexpected." sukuna stands by the door dressed casually in a hoodie and sweats, his sharp eyes narrowing in recognition before a smirk tugs at his lips. "didn't think you were the type to get lost at a party. bathroom's next door, by the way."

you roll your eyes, heat rushing to your cheeks. "i know where the bathroom is. it's occupied. i'm just... waiting."

sukuna quirks an eyebrow, leaning against the doorframe. "waiting. outside my door. what, the hallway too boring for you?"

you shrug, trying to look nonchalant. "thought it'd be quieter in here. but if you're gonna be a jerk, i'll go wait somewhere else."

"relax," sukuna chuckles, stepping aside. "come on. i'll even let you stay, as long as you close the door. music's driving me insane." you slip inside, pulse quickening as you take in his room, chaos of the party muffling behind the closed door. his room is a stark contrast to the outside— simple but clean, with a stack of textbooks open on his desk. the sight throws you off.

"i didn't take you for the studying-during-a-party type," you say, eyeing the open engineering textbook.

sukuna shrugs, sinking back into his chair and runs a hand through his hair. "i'm not here for a party, kid. i've got finals next week."

the nickname stings, even though it shouldn't. he's been calling you that for years, despite the fact that you're not a kid anymore. "you know i'm in college now, right? you don't have to keep calling me that."

he smirks, glancing up at you. "old habits die hard."

you fold your arms, rolling your eyes at him. "yuji mentioned you were turning into a bit of a nerd these days."

now it's sukuna's turn to roll his eyes. "he would say that, that brat...how is he by the way? you're keeping an eye on him right? he's not getting too crazy?"

you smile. "he's fine. don't worry. i left him with megumi and nobara."

"good," he says, nodding. "still can't believe you idiots are in college now. feels like yesterday when you and the other two climbed out of yuji's window in the middle of the night. bet that wasn't your influence."

your cheeks flush. "that was his idea, not mine!"

"sure, sure," he says, smirking. "you had your phase. but now you found the right path, right? being quite good in college i hear."

"how'd you know?" you asked, eyebrows raised.

"yuji talks about you and the others all the time." sukuna's grin softens ever so slightly, gaze lingering on you.

the room feels smaller suddenly, the air heavier. you clear your throat, trying to steer the conversation. "what about you? how's the single life treating you?"

sukuna leans back in his chair, exhaling. "yuji told you about that, huh. we broke up like six months ago or something. it's not bad, i've gotten over it."

you nod and silence settles between you, charged with something unspoken. when sukuna finally breaks it, his voice is just a little softer. "so, what do you think of me?"

the question catches you off guard "what?"

“you heard me,” he says, a teasing lilt in his voice. “you tell me what you think of me, and maybe i’ll return the favour.”

you hesitate, heart pounding. finally, you decide to go for it. "fine. i think you're a jerk sometimes, smart, funny and—" you pause, looking away. "pretty good looking."

sukuna smirks, "wow, you think i'm handsome?" then he laughs, the sound warm and genuine.

"shut up..." you mutter, crossing your arms.

"no, no. i appreciate the honesty," he says. "i always that you were cute, funny, and smart. you got the three attributes down, and a little bit of a brat probably."

you look away sheepishly, unable to continue meeting his gaze. sukuna continues. "when you were in the first year of college i did think of asking you out but you know, you're yuji's friend and i had my girlfriend during that time."

you breath hitches hearing that confession. "you're not just saying that, are you?"

"not at all," he murmurs, voice low as he stands and moves closer to you.

now, you look back at him. taking a breath, you ask, your voice slowly becoming softer. "what exactly are we going to do with this information now..."

before you can second-guess yourself and overthink, his hand brushes yours, tentative but firm. you can no longer hear the music outside sukuna's door slowly fades away completely as you focus and he leans in, his lips barely brushing yours. “yeah, i was right. definitely cute, i’ll give ya that.”

when he pulls back, he glances toward the door behind. he reaches past you, the click of the lock loud in the quiet room. when he turns back, his expression is all mischief, "don't need any drunk idiots walking in on us."

© liyue-harbour 2024 (it's been almost a year since i wrote?? as usual, likes & reblogs are greatly appreciated!)

[s3renascorner]

Have you ever tried this one?

MDNI!!

Noah Sebastian x fem!reader

Warnings!: oral (f receiving) p in v (don't be like them and use protection!) Pet names, cursing, mentions of being tipsy. I think that's it.

Not proofread! so sorry for shitty grammar.

You

"Noah are you finally ready!?" You yelled from your room to your roommate and best friend. You heard heavy footsteps approach your room as Noah walked towards your room, he stops right at your front door and says "damn can't you be a little more patient? I was just finishing up" you quickly grab your purse and put on your shoes, you open up the door revealing yourself to Noah. "no Noah I can't be, we have to be there early so we can get merch remember?" Noah's eyes slightly widen as he takes in what you're wearing, a very short light pink sparkly mini skirt with a matching top and platform boots resembling a stage outfit Sabrina carpenter wears. "You look, extremely good ya know?" He says looking at you up and down. "uh huh thanks now lets go" you say rushing.

After the concert had started Noah was definitely sure he was going to tease you at home after the concert especially after hearing you say "come right on me, I mean camaraderie" well, until the song 'juno' started playing and Noah quickly got what the song was about but what he didn't expect was the position part, Sabrina laid on the floor lifting one leg then swiftly going into the splits, you had jokingly told him that you had apparently "never tried that one in your life" obviously this was supposed to be a light hearted joke especially with the amount of teasing this man gave you every day, but he took it another way, those words making him feel warm and weak, in that moment he thought about you laying there for him completely at his disposal, doing everything and anything for him. He wouldn't lie and say that he's never thought about you in another way than more than friends or that he's never thought of you bare before him doing so many sinful things to-and with him but damn, right now he just wanted to take you away and fuck you til your dumb in the back of his car.

After the concert had ended and you guys got back in the car (well, barely since you were tipsy) Noah couldn't stop thinking about what you had said, it was stupid really, but the fact that just thinking about you in that same position, making you cum until you were seeing stars and just have you. "I actually think that this is the best night of my life" you slurred while giggling. "oh really? And why is that miss I love to scream horny lyrics?" You dramatically gasped and put your hand on your heart, "you wound me sir, and also you listen to the weekend, that's wayyyyy worse than just saying I'm so fucking horny"

sir. That word alone made his cock twitch, not because he likes being called that but because he wants to hear you call him that again and again. "I guess your right" he clears his throat "well, we should get going traffics gonna suck either way right?" He tries to change the topic, You hum in response "well I mean yeah but why don't we wait for a while? Everyone's gonna be headed the same direction and we don't have to be up early tomorrow, plus if I get motion sickness while being tipsy, well that's not gonna be pretty so lets just, wait it out." That wouldn't work for Noah, he just needed to take a cold shower and relax cause if not god knows he would be struggling especially with how you act while tipsy. Last time he was alone with you while tipsy it ended up in you talking about how no one was good for you and that you couldn't even have sex because it didn't feel right, and yes you did cry on him that day. Noah wasn't going to push the idea of going back home since he knew you were gonna make him agree with you either way. He just needed to figure out how to distract himself.

"you okay? You seem tense... Like a lot." You said putting a hand on his shoulder, "uh yeah I'm fine just a little tired that's all." "Um..." You said trying to come up with something. "well you can sleep in the backseat with your head in my lap for you to be comfortable" "um, sure" he said, he climbed into the back of the car and sat down waiting for you to come climb in the back, once you did you accidentally fell on his lap, your skirt rose up and you felt his semi hard on. "Shit, sorry noah" your faces had matching flushed cheeks and that nervous look in your eyes, you tried to move away so you could sit down on the seat but his grip was firm holding you in place. You looked at him nervous and slightly excited, he started lightly caressing your exposed thighs not realizing you half exposed ass since he was so focused on your face and on every little expression that changed. The air felt hotter and your senses had heightened feeling every bit of him covered body except for the hand that was on your thigh that's the thing you could feel the most. The moment felt like eternities but was actually mere seconds. "Y/n?" "yes?" You said barely above a whisper.

"hypothetically if I were to kiss you right now, what would you hypothetically do?" His question took you aback, was he actually going to do this? "Hypothetically, I think I would want more than just a kiss." His eyebrows slightly raised and he nodded just a tiny bit, he carefully but quickly lifted you up and positioned you so you were straddling him. "So... About what you said inside, you've never tried that? Ever?" He said a teasing smirk on his lips. You gulped trying to understand what he was trying to do, "no... I haven't like ever." "would you like to?" Your eyes widened, your breath got heavier, jesus this man could make you nervous in a second.

"What?" "Would. You. Like. To. Try. It?" He put punctuation at every word, soaking up the fact that he could get you like this without even doing anything. "y-yes" you said basically breathless, Noah didn't say anything he just slowly lifted your skirt and made sure that you would be prepared.

He leaned in leaving a peak on your neck going all the way up until he reached your lips and asked "may i?" After you nodded just wanting some kind of touch he leaned in, lips touching yours as if he was testing the waters first. you both had a good rhythm it was slow and passionate, god knows how long you've been wanting to do this with him, his hands started to ride up your thighs to grip your ass, once he did you slightly gasped which gave him the freedom to slip his tongue into your mouth tasting you properly. He slowly moved his hips against yours trying to get some friction as he couldn't get enough of you, your hands were tangled in his hair making it disheveled and messy but he didn't give a shit about that with you like this.

"Fuck Noah, I need you" you moan out breathlessly. "need me to what princess?" God that nickname could make you fold any day, "i... I need you inside me" he nodded quickly and laid you down in the backseat slowly stripping you of your clothes, every layer he took off weirdly felt like a layer of the feelings that you two had for each other was being exposed and shown, with no lies nor any doubts, and sure you could've expected this to just be another quick fuck but it wasn't, it was love and passion that you two had been holding on to and keeping a secret for the years and years of your friendship.

Noah gazed and admired your naked body taking everything in as if he were never to see it again, he softly kissed up your thighs and stopped at were your core is to ask "are you sure?" You nodded but responded with a quick yes because you knew he needed a verbal answer "green if you're okay, yellow if you need to slow down and red if you want me to stop. Ok?"

"ok." Noah placed a soft kiss on her core earning him a soft whimper from you a signal that he could keep going, he left kitten licks still just warming you up until you had finally had enough and had asked him for even more which was what he was waiting for. He, to put it bluntly, ate you like it was his last meal making you say his name like a prayer. You felt that familiar knot in your stomach tightening begging to release, "Noah I'm gonn- can i-" you barely muttered out "cum for me baby, let go." euphoria washed over you, making you feel like you weren't real. "you still with me princess?" Noah asked making sure you were ok, his hands rubbed up and down your thighs the feeling making the sense of touch come back. "Yeah, yeah I just I need you inside me noah." Noah smirked and for one last time kissed your thighs each two times, "your wish is my command doll."

He sat up and stripped himself of his clothes, you couldn't help but stare at his bare self, you'd imagined him before but god it was better than you'd expected. "take a picture it'll last longer" he teased "oh shut it" you said, he grabbed your legs and pulled you closer to him hooking a leg on his shoulder the other resting on the seat as you laid on your elbows, this was a surprise because you didn't think he would actually do the position you just thought he was joking or teasing you like always. "what are you doing?" He raised an eyebrow "I told you we would do it." You just shut up and bit your lip as he positioned himself to your entrance. He slowly slid in making sure you adjusted to his size before starting to thrust, when you gave him the signal he started moving at a slower pace but quickly picked it up when he heard the first whiny moan you let out, it felt fucking magical for a lack of words, every thrust and moan that you both let out was so intimate and special because you both knew that it was just for you two, not for anyone others ears to hear, not for anyone other to feel how deep he went and how fucking wet you were for him it was just, the two of you.

You could tell he was about to cum when his thrust got sloppy and fast, you weren't to far behind either the second knot in your stomach getting tighter and tighter waiting for you to cum, you walls tightened against him and you started basically chanting his name, your hands intertwined as your head fell back as your breath got unsteady. "Fuck doll, I'm gonna come." You squeezed his hand "come for me noah" you both let out groans as you came at the same time, his hot seed filling you up until you were leaking cum. He collapsed on top of you breathless but so fucking satisfied and so were you. "We- we should probably get home shouldn't we?" He held onto you tighter "in a bit"

The next day...

You were scrolling on your phone through tiktok while laying on Noah's chest when a video of the concert from yesterday popped up, specifically the juno position part, you watched as Sabrina raised her leg while asking the question "have you ever tried this one?" remembering last night. Noah spoke up as he heard and just said-

Yes we did.

[letstrip13]

💐 - stood up

summary: when you get stood up on your first date, you call your best friend to come pick you up. but instead of taking you home, he has a better plan.

warnings: none, just fluff!

word count: 1,571

author's note: reupload!! also new acc theme!! + don't forget to read the very end bc i have a couple things to say! enjoy the fic <3

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you bring your phone up to your ear, listening to it ring and waiting for him to pick up. you pace around a little in the parking lot of a small italian restaurant. the cold breeze makes you shiver in your dress and heels, and you regret even wanting to go on this date. you took the time applying your makeup and styling your hair to perfection.

but the date never happened. you got stood up. you waited around for almost twenty minutes before you got the text from your date. all it said was, “sorry, can't make it. something came up.” but you knew nothing came up. just a few minutes ago, he posted on his snapchat story. he was with another girl. he not only stood you up, but he stood you up for someone else.

one ring, two rings, three rings. finally, you hear chris’ voice on the other end. “hello?” he says in a confused tone. “i thought you were on your date.”

“not anymore,” you tell him, holding back tears. “can you come get me?” “yeah, of course. i'm on my way.” he hangs up and you send him your location.

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chris’ pov: i grab my keys and wallet before rushing out of the house, ignoring my brothers calling after me, asking why i’m leaving in such a hurry. you’re the only thing on my mind right now. it sounded like you were fighting tears. you’re my best friend and i want to do everything in my power to make you happy.

i drive to the location you sent me as fast as i can and i pull into the deserted parking lot. the only one there is you, sitting on the curb in your dress and heels, looking so sad yet so beautiful at the same time. i park and get out of the car, quickly coming over to sit next to you. i wrap my arm around you, gently rubbing your arm and shoulder. “hey, what happened?” the way you look up at me, your eyes glossing over with tears, makes my heart ache.

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you look up at him, trying your best not to cry. you know he hates to see you upset like this. you unlock your phone and open it to the “sorry, can't make it” text. he takes the phone from you, eyebrows furrowing as he reads it. “really? he didn't even give you a reason?” you take your phone back. “oh, it gets worse.” you go onto snapchat and open his story before passing it to chris. you watch as his jaw clenches, a subtle but clear sign that he's mad.

“i can't fucking believe this guy,” he exclaims as he hands your phone back to you. “i don't understand how he could do that to you. it's his loss though, you look beautiful.” you smile at chris, a genuine smile, he always knows how to cheer you up. “thank you. and you're right, i can do better.”

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chris’ pov: there's a few moments of silence before i take a deep breath and speak up again. “listen, i have an idea. i know that neither of us have ever been on a real date, but i want to take you out on one.”

i watch as you shake your head. “no, it's okay. i think i should just go home. i just wasn't meant to go on a date tonight.” i run my hand through my hair. “please? you deserve to be taken out on a real date.”

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you think it over for a moment before you end up agreeing. he takes your hand as the both of you stand up and he holds it the whole way to his car, only letting go to open the door for you. you both get in and get comfortable. “so, where are we going, princess?”

the nickname catches you off guard a little, but it's sweet that he's calling you that. “honestly, i kind of feel like just going to a drive-thru.” he chuckles as he starts the car, not expecting that to be your answer. “alright, whatever you want.” he starts the car and starts driving around the city.

he pulls into a drive-thru lineup of a place you both agreed on. the line moves fast and before you know it, you're holding the bag of food while he's driving to some sort of mystery spot.

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chris’ pov: i know the perfect spot to take you. i like coming here to have a moment alone with my thoughts, and it has an amazing view. by the time we get there, the sun has just started to set. it's completely deserted, not far from the beach. we eat our food, talking and laughing between bites. it seems like you completely forgot about the other guy and it puts me at ease to see that.

after we finish eating, we watch the sun go down, enjoying the comfortable silence between us. you check your phone and i don't pay any mind to it, deciding to check mine too. i glance over and notice that you're on snap, more specifically, his snap. i snatch your phone out of your hand before you can check his story. “nope, you're not doing that. forget about him. he's not good enough for you.”

“i wasn't even going to-” “shhh, i know what you were doing.” you're silent for a moment. “what if i get back at him?” “and how would we do that?” i ask with an amused smirk.

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“i could post us on my story. he doesn't know who you are, so he'd think i'm on a real date.” he scoffs, pretending to be offended, “wow, not a real date, huh? i thought we had something, princess.” you nudge his shoulder with yours, causing him to smile after trying to hold it back.

you take your phone back from him and go onto snapchat to take the picture for your story. he leans in close to you as you get the camera angle just right. suddenly, he turns his head and plants a wet kiss on your cheek, just as you hit the button. you weren't expecting it, but it came out perfectly. “ew, chris, it's slobbery!” you giggle. he laughs too and posts the picture to your story for you.

“wanna go for a walk on the beach?” he asks. “sure, sounds fun.” he gets out of the car first and as he shuts his door, he notices your hand on the door handle. “wait!” he climbs over the hood of his car, almost falling in the process as you laugh at his ridiculous gesture. he opens the car door for you, a goofy grin on his face. you step out of the car, thanking him between fits of laughter. “you could've just went around, you know.” “i didn’t think of that.. it was more fun that way anyways.”

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chris’ pov: we make our way down to the beach and we walk along the shoreline, stopping every now and then to admire the clusters of stars that are appearing in the sky. as night falls, i notice you begin to shiver in your dress. i unzip my gray hoodie*, shrugging it off and draping it across your shoulders. “here, take this.” “thank you.” you slip your arms in and zip it up about three quarters of the way as we continue to walk.

*yes, that gray hoodie.

you suddenly stop, giving my arm a gentle tug as you do so to get my attention. i always thought it was so cute when you did that. “can we get ice cream?” i look to where you're pointing and there's a small ice cream shop. it's hidden, kind of tucked away but it looks open. “mhmm, whatever you want.”

we go in, ordering a bowl with two scoops, each getting a scoop of our favourite flavour. we sit across from each other in a booth and share the ice cream. we stay until the last workers are practically shoving us out the door so they can close up.

we walk along the beach together, back the way we came, hand in hand. it's nice to take our time, not having a worry or care in the world as we enjoy each other's company and the sounds of the waves.

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you eventually get to the parking lot and once we're in the car, he lets you pick the music. it's about a twenty minute drive to your house. when you're about five minutes away, he notices you starting to drift off a little. he places his hand on your knee, giving it a gentle shake to wake you up. “hey, don't fall asleep on me now,” he murmurs, “we're almost there.”

he parks in your driveway and turns the car off so you can both get out. you shoot him a confused look. “you don't have to walk me to the door, it's like 30 steps away,” you say with a light smile. “i know but i wanted to.” he walks to your door with you and you start to unzip his sweater. “no, it's fine. i'll get it another time.” he holds you tightly as you pull him into a hug. “thank you, chris. this was the best date ever.” you pull away and give him one last goodbye before going inside, shutting the door behind you.

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author's note 2: follow my bestie pinkfilipowicz on instagram, i'm trying to help her with her goal of getting 100 followers by the end of 2024!! she's also doing a new thing called "madi monthly recap" i'm not fully sure what it is but don't miss it bc i know it's gonna be good!!

check out my masterlist for more!

join my taglist!

[ylangelegy]

omg "what? me? jealous? never." with junhui please! 🫶🫶

ⵌ actor!jun x actress!reader. ⵌ word count: 988. ⵌ notes: co-stars, secret relationship, pet names ('pretty girl'), suggestive joke, all my favorite tropes in a drabble. i miss this man sooo bad.

Jun loves award shows.

He loves having an excuse to dress up, loves getting to interact with other groups a little more openly, loves the special stages they get to put on. And if his gorgeous girlfriend happens to be a special emcee, well— that only makes it a much better night.

He's not allowed to be too excited, of course. He's always careful not to blow his cover. At most, the boys just seem to assume that you're his favorite co-star.

If only they knew that Jun's had the privilege of your heart for the past couple of years.

There's a bit of a thrill in sneaking around, in having to pull out his acting chops. Tonight, Jun lies about having to go to the bathroom, fields Minghao's invites for accompaniment, and navigates through all the other tables. Your text had been the only prompting he needed. It's like a waltz; his eyes on your back, the distance he keeps.

You side step in to a corner, behind a curtain, and he follows. The entire venue of idols, of actors, of Korea's biggest stars are none the wiser.

Jun's hands find immediate purchase at your waist. "Hey, pretty girl," he greets smoothly, that bright smile of his already lighting up his face.

You'll probably only have three minutes, but three minutes is all that Jun needs. He doesn't waste time. "Saw you on the red carpet earlier. You were stunning," he hums, his face going to nuzzle the underside of your ear.

"I think you're a little bit biased," you shoot back, unable to resist a jab. Your facade of annoyance is betrayed by the smile that's threatening to fill your own face. "But I think I can let it pass for tonight, 'specially since that suits of yours looks so good on you."

"I'd look even better out of it," he says unrepentantly. His arms tighten around your waist, holding you close when you try to pull back and away.

You let out a groan. Jun laughs softly

Jun's lips brush against your jaw, then down the line of your throat. His nose skims your skin as he takes a breath. "You smell nice," he mumbles.

Cinnamon, sugar, vanilla. The same scent as his own cologne.

"You got me this at your Japan stop," you answer, your hands resting at his hips. It's not much, but it'll have to do for now.

"I should get you a perfume every time we have a stop abroad," he says.

"Yah, don't do that. You have expensive tastes. And you already get me too many things whenever you're on tour."

"What's the point of being an established artist at my big age if I can't spoil my pretty girl a little?" he grumbles petulantly. He tilts his head to press a kiss over your pulse. "Besides," he adds after a moment, "I like that you smell like me."

Smelling like Jun was just another one of those things. His subtle reminders in the form of innocuous couple items that only the two of you knew about. Cologne and perfume with similar notes, matching silk pajamas, rubber shoes from the same line. A quiet litany of mine, mine, mine in your every day lives.

You give a bright, warm laugh as you mumble into his hair, "I'll wear it more often, then."

You are so bad for him. A walking, talking dopamine rush. Everything about you makes Jun feel a little lightheaded, a little dizzy. Like he's had one too many to drink.

But you're also the one who sobers him up, the one who always says, "We should probably get going."

"Do we have to?" he whines. His arms around you tighten. He knows the answer to his question— yes, yes, you have to go. But he can't help wishing otherwise. "Five more minutes?"

Your nth sigh of the night. Even then— "Five more minutes," you concede.

His hands flatten out against your back, holding you more snugly against him. He could stay like this forever. Just your warmth against him, the scent of you in his nose, the sound of your steady breaths in his ear.

But you say five more minutes. And so he counts down from ten in his head. Ten, nine, eight…

Jun pulls back after the countdown and steals a long, deep kiss from your lips.

This was what it felt like to be alive. The way his blood pumped faster, his heart thumped harder. The way that your very presence made everything else seem dull in comparison.

The feeling only intensifies when you move closer. When you arch against him in that way you know he loves. When your fingers run through his hair.

Jun is all but breathless. He pulls away after long enough, leaning his forehead against yours. "I'm a terrible influence on you," he pants against your lips.

Your hand slides down to his face, your thumb ghosting over his mouth. "You got some on you," you grumble, and it takes him a moment to realize that you're fretting over lip gloss.

"Leave it," he says. "I like smelling like perfume and looking like I got kissed."

You shoot him a glare. He gives you cheeky grin.

When the two of you part, Jun is relegated to watch you from his table. You're radiant up on stage, perfectly composed and charming. You have stellar manufactured chemistry with your more recent co-star, and some of the boys decide to tease Jun about it.

"Looks like you've gotten replaced, Junpi," Jeonghan sing-songs.

Soonyoung nudges Jun in the side. "Jealous that you've lost your favorite co-star to Kim Soohyun?"

Jun barely stops himself from bursting into laughter. Replaced? Co-star? His members don't know the half of it. Jun absentmindedly runs a thumb over his bottom lip, where traces of you still linger.

"What? Me, jealous?" He breaks out into an innocent smile. "Never."

୨ৎ * part of my ( JEALOUSY ) DRABBLE GAME.

[luminique]

i woukd have some thoughts id like to share w the class… i remember seeing a video on guardian bells once; i’m not too well-versed in biker culture but they’re bells bikers/motorcycle riders put on their bikes as good luck charms/protection from accidents or mech failures. i havent actually touched zzz in a while, so i don’t know if the SoC have them in their designs or mention them in dialogues but i like to think they do have these bells somewhere on their own vehicles or have knowledge of them at least!

imagine lighter receiving one from his s/o / love interest / crush… maybe it was made just for him or maybe they gave/made the entire crew their own bells, but a certain someone takes extra care of his and makes sure to keep it in his sight when driving….. many brainworms… safe to say this man is making me a little insane…(● ˃̶͈̀ロ˂̶͈́)੭ꠥ⁾⁾

hope im not being too much of a bother by dumping too many Thoughts™️ and that ur generally doin good in life/staying in good health!（＾∇＾）i rly like ur works and i always look forward to whenever i see u post something regardless of what it is… <3

OH MY GOD !! THIS FACT IS SO INSANE i went and watched some videos about it and it is so cute to think that.

maybe you aren't that good riding bikes or just not much of rider yourself, so instead, you gave all of the sons of calydon their own bells. they could hear it jingle in your hands as you rushed over to them. they had the signature boar design on them and then little engravings of their name on it so that it was extra special. supposedly, when a biker bell is gifted, it enhances its power of keeping the rider safe.

all of them appreciated the lovely gesture but lighter specifically, he didn't know where to properly place it. most of the time, you hang them on the bottom of the bike. that's no good, he wanted to see this gift, a reminder that you got it for him specifically.

but as the legend goes, it is to ward off little gremlins.... wait were there even gremlins in the outer ring? maybe bangboos might cause havoc on the bike but they wouldn't do that, right? well he didn't want it to not work, so he begrudgingly installs it pretty low on his bike.

every time he rides, he can hear the soft jingling of it from the wind. it does get drowned out by the loud engines but just the knowledge that it's there, the knowledge that you want him to drive safely, he can't help but smile whenever he hears it.

[formulaforza]

miss americana and the heartbreak prince

—09. Sweet Nothing —word count: 8.5k —warnings: none :) love, mack... sorry. SORRY. you can't even begin to imagine how different my life is from when i last updated. SORRY. technically I got paid to write this lol.

Charles turns up to pre-season testing with a gifted case on his phone. It’s from Reid, FORZA CHARLES written in his best handwriting, colored red with his new set of crayons from his birthday. It’s been on his phone since the five-year-old gifted it to him because Reid was too excited about it for Charles to do anything but put it on. 

Reid had carefully explained that it was a good luck charm—but that Charles is not allowed to be mad if it didn’t have enough luck, since he had to rush to make it before Charles had to leave. 

Reid had played it so incredibly cool ( see: jumping around Chris' kitchen after school squealing like a baby pig ) when Chris had shown him a picture of Charles with the phone case on in the paddock. There’s a certain softness that she feels watching his excitement over something so small, something that gets this kid so incredibly excited because he thinks Charles is so cool. There’s something soft, and there’s also something so incredibly terrifying about it. That she let Reid develop this relationship—even if oh-so-small—with Charles, because now if it goes wrong, if it sours… not only is it going to screw her up in the head royally, but now she’s going to have to explain it to Reid, too. To break his heart, too. She thinks Charles is completely clueless as to the amount of people he’s got completely wrapped around his finger. 

Reid, in all his pure and unadulterated joy, insists that Chris call him up so Reid can share in the joy with her boyfriend--because no matter how many times she attempts to explain it to the kid, he can’t fathom the idea of timezones. 

Chase has always been so good at navigating them, even though he has ever been only, at most, a few hours off the time at home. He’s never missed a bedtime story or a goodnight kiss if he could help it. They’ve always been so good at it, him and Hannah, that Reid is truly unable to conceptualize why someone away at a race can’t talk on the phone with him. 

“He’s sleeping, Reid,” Chris says, shaking her head, and taking her phone back from his grubby hands. “I’m not calling him in the middle of the night.”

“It’s not the middle of the night!” He protests, and he’s not wrong. “It’s just after school time.”

Chris sighs. “But he’s not here. He’s somewhere far away, remember? We talked about this before he left?”

“No! Facetime him!”

She rolls her eyes. They go back and forth for some time like that, her arguing with a five-year-old about time zones. It’s only becoming clearer that there are only two ways for this to end. Either Reid throws the fit of all fits until Hannah gets off work to come pick him up, or Chris calls Charles. If she hadn’t spent all day already keeping five-year-olds from throwing a tantrum, she might have had the strength to endure another grumpy kid. But, she had spent the day on eggshells, so she makes the call and hopes his phone is turned off so it doesn’t wake him up. 

Despite her hopes, he answers, even though it’s past midnight there. She’s apologizing before she can even make out the shape of his face on the dark screen. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. His voice is groggy and sleepy and he speaks through a yawn, shaking his head in a dismissal of her apology. “Es-tu…” he groans. “Are you okay?”

“Yes!” She quips. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry. Reid just wanted to say hello. I promise it won’t be more than a minute.” Momentarily, she considers shoving her nephew into the pantry where it’s dark. Where the bright light of Chris’ kitchen isn’t going to hurt Charles’ eyes in the dark of his room.  

“It’s okay,” he smiles, and God. God, he looks so sleepy and sweet and if she didn’t feel so horribly guilty for waking him up, she’d be thinking about how badly she wants to kiss him. He turns on a lamp and cringes at the brightness of it. Her wince is disguised as a smile. “Where is he?”

Here, she says, handing the phone off to Reid, a half-scold, half-warning leaving her lips in the form of be quick. He grabs her phone with the heel of both his palms, keeping his greasy snack fingers off her screen, setting it down with a light clatter onto the countertop, forehead peeking in at the bottom of the screen. “Hi, Chuck!” Reid greets. “Auntie Chris says you’re sleeping!” he giggles. 

“Auntie Chris was right,” Charles laughs softly, and now she just wants to kiss him. She doesn’t get to see him sleepy nearly as much as she’d like to, as much as other girlfriends get to see their boyfriends sleepy. 

She manages to swallow the guilt gnawing away at her bones, silence the already rehearsed apologies she’ll be uttering the next time they speak, and just listens fondly to Charles entertaining Reid. He's so patient. So kind in his efforts to get close with her family. He doesn’t have to do that—seriously. Most people wouldn’t talk to their girlfriend’s nephew on the phone in the middle of the night. Then again, most people wouldn’t fly a quarter of the way around the world for that same nephew’s fifth birthday party—or travel that same distance for a family wedding on a fifth date. In fact, most people would be so put off by the idea of having to do those things, they would never in a million years entertain the idea of dating someone who lives around the world. Most people wouldn’t, and yet. Charles would. Charles does. Each and every time, he does. 

— — —

“So, he comes up to me, right?” She laughs, “I’m trying to give a reading test, and he walks up, and I almost tell him to go sit back in his seat because he’s supposed to be silent reading,” She continues. It’s 12:03 am, at least that’s what her microwave clock tells her. It’s 12:03 am in Georgia and when they’d gotten on Facetime twenty-one minutes ago, he’d told her exactly two things. 

One—the car is shit. Two—I don’t want to talk about it. 

So, she didn’t ask any questions and instead launched into the story she’d been anxiously waiting to tell him all about since it had happened that morning at school.

“But before I can say anything,” she explains to her phone camera—to him, on the other side of the globe— “He says, ‘Um, Miss Elliott, um, my tooth falled out,’' She grins, and Charles matches her expression because even across continents it’s a contagious smile. It was the first time any of her students had lost a tooth in class, and the room proceeded to erupt into chaos, she would continue to tell him. “It was crazy,” she laughs. “I didn’t know what to do with him.”

“So what did you do?” Charles asks, laughing himself. 

“I took him and his tooth down to the office,” she says, half out of breath. “And I let them handle it. I was way out of my depth. The nurse brought him back like, ten minutes later with a plastic tooth necklace that held the tooth all day.”

— — —

Chris is cozied up on the couch with Bean, babysitting the dog for her parents while they traveled to Vegas for her brother’s race when Charles DNFs in Bahrain. 

Her heart sinks, through the couch and through the floor and deep into her non-existent basement. It might even go all the way through the world and into Australia to wait for Charles to get there in a few weeks. 

Once he’s out of the car and they show him on camera, he looks so annoyed. Defeated and annoyed in a way she isn’t sure she’s ever seen him, and like he could use a hug. A bear hug. She wants to stick her arms through the television and around him and hug him and kiss him and make him laugh and get that look off his face. She wants the car to turn into a person she can fight. To kiss him all over and run her finger through his helmet hair until he forgets about it for a little while. To tell him how she’s sorry. And how she. How she… how she likes him so much. 

How, maybe someday. Someday, in a vast and distant future, she loves him so much that it scares her to think about for more than a moment. How—again, maybe someday in a timeline she can't imagine yet—she thinks of him constantly. How he’s burrowed his way into her skin and how every time she sees the color red she doesn’t think of it as angry or harsh or mean, she just thinks of him. 

How she loves him, maybe, and it’s wholly terrifying. She hates that she loves him, maybe, because she knows it’s only a matter of time. She’d really, truly hoped he would come to his senses before it got to this point, this drowning slowly in his honey words and soft smile, hoped that he would have found her too much and too messy and not worth all the energy and time and money. But he hasn’t. He hasn’t, and now she loves him, maybe, and has nowhere to put all this fear. 

She waits for him to call her, and he does, hours later when it’s got to be the middle of the night there. She can’t keep the time difference straight and has googled it at least half a dozen times today alone. 

“Did you watch?” he asks, and he doesn’t sound defeated, not like he had during testing. He sounds… dejected, if anything but normal. 

“Yeah,” she says, even though there wasn’t much to watch. 

“They’re saying on Twitter I looked hot,” he chuckles, and it puts a soft smile on her face. She pulls her knees to her chest, picking at the lint on the knees of her leggings. “At least I have that going, huh?”

“You always look hot,” she says, her smile growing.

“True,” he says, and he follows it with a laugh. An honest to god laugh that makes her heart swell. 

“Besides the obvious,” she says, adjusting in her seat, “It was a good race.”

“It was definitely not a good race,” he chuckles. 

Chris continues to pick at her leggings. They’re covered in lint from her blanket and hair from the dog. “Well, I thought it was good. I know you didn’t finish, but… if you had,” she smiles gently. He was on track for a podium. If he had finished. 

“But I didn’t,” He sighs himself into a perfect frown. 

“Eh,” she waves it off with her hand. “Semantics, semantics. Rose and thorn.”

“Rose and thorn,” he nods, quirking a brow. “What is rose and thorn?”

“Oh,” she shrugs, “you know. Like… take the good with the bad? The rose and the thorn,” she explains. “You were having a good race—rose. You didn’t finish the race—thorn.”

“Ah,” he says, his head dropping down into a chuckle. “Rose and thorn, yes.”

— — —

One thing you learn when you’re the aunt of a five-year-old little leaguer is that every single team is actually just a major league baseball team rebranded for whatever city these elementary schoolers are playing in. Same names, same logos—sometimes they’ll change the color scheme, but sometimes they can get away with keeping it. In Reid’s case, they kept even the color scheme. 

Chris supposes this makes her outfit choice for his season opener significantly easier. It’s sunny and sixty-five degrees and Chris is wearing a Detroit Tigers sweatshirt—Navy blue with a white old English D embroidered on the front—and a pair of blue jeans. Reid’s tee-ball team is oh-so derivatively named the Dawsonville Tigers. 

It’s Reid’s third year playing baseball, his third year playing tee-ball. Next year, he’ll get to move up to the real little league, which will only give Chase and Hannah a million more practices and tournaments, and games to travel to. Reid is counting down the days until he gets to play with the bigger kids. Chase and Hannah… not so much. 

They, along with the rest of the family, have grown relatively attached to the comedy show of a bunch of preschoolers chasing baseballs around a bunch of gravel. Chase is an assistant coach, and he’s been swearing up and down in the family group chat that at least ten of the fifteen kids on the team know they’re supposed to run to first base after they hit a fair ball. At least ten of them, and the coaches are working hard to get the other five on track as soon as possible. 

Chris and Hannah sit in folding camping chairs behind the fencing catching up while they watch the show, sipping boxed wine from Hannah’s secret purse-stash in their matching YETI wine tumblers. 

The conversation starts with a rundown of the team this year—of the moms, more importantly. Which ones Hannah likes, and which ones look at her like she’s still a nineteen-year-old with a baby she doesn’t know what to do with. It’s a common thing for Hannah, even now that she’s got a settled career and a house and a whole life with Chase. It doesn’t matter, not to the bitter southern housewives with nothing better to do than spend their time hating other women. 

It starts there. And somehow, with the quick exclamation of Oh! You’ll never believe what Miss Julie told me about Kacie! The two girls are deep in gossip about someone from high school’s relationship. It always seems to go like this, when Hannah gets this endless well of gossip from work, from the hours spent waiting for bleach to process and colors to develop in the salon. 

“But wait, forget about that!” Hannah laughs. “How’s Charles!? Your dad said he had a shit race?”

Chris furrows her brows, swallowing a sip of wine. “My dad knows how his race went?” She asks, and Hanah shrugs. “I mean, yeah, he did,” she chuckles. “Power unit issues, even though they literally replaced the battery and the ECU that morning.  They have to replace the whole thing, so he’s going to have to take a penalty next race too,” she sighs, rolling her eyes. “For the ECU that they just replaced.”

Hannah scowls. “That’s fucked,” she laughs, covering her mouth, doing a poor job at concealing her wine giggles. “He’s coming to visit in a couple weeks, right?”

“Mmhm,” Chris hums. “He’s like…” she laughs, “so geeked out about coming to one of these games. I told him they’re so boring, but. He’s adorable.”

“I’m sure he’s more geeked about other things,” Hannah teases, playfully shoving Chris’ shoulder. “Long distance fucking sucks for the sex life,” she giggles. Chris blushes bright red, holding her hands up in surrender before taking a long sip of wine and asking for a refill. 

Chandler shows up somewhere between the third wine tumbler and the fourth inning of the baseball game. She’s in her work clothes, complete with the kitten heels that sink into the muddy grass with every step she takes. She taps the opposite shoulder of Chris that she stands behind, and Chris falls for it, turning back the other way to see her, to smile genuinely because they haven’t had the chance to get annoyed with each other yet, haven’t had the chance to get annoyed with each other since they last saw the other at Chase and Hannah’s wedding.

“Are you still with that guy?” She asked, from her seat in Chris’ camping chair. She felt too bad watching her heels sink in and out of the mud, so now she leans against the fencing while Chandler sits. “The French one?”

Chris nods, her arms crossed over her chest. “Monegasque,” she corrects. “But yes. Still together.”

“Hmm,” Chandler hums curiously, picking at her cuticles. “Are you ever going out to see him?” She asks. 

“Uh,” Chris sighs, dragging her toe through the gravel, drawing harsh lines and kicking up dust. “I’m gonna fly out for spring break,” she says. “But he wants me away from Monaco.”

“He wants you to stay away?” Chandler asks, and Chris doesn’t miss the tone of voice, eyes darting to Hannah to confirm the condescending tone she already knows she heard. Hannah closes her eyes before she can roll them, and takes a sip of her wine, leaning back in her seat, crossing her legs. 

“Not like that, Chan, come on,” Chris sighs. “I don’t want to be there. We don’t want to be there. It’s too hard, everyone knows him there and we don’t want anyone to know me.”

“So, he’s hiding you?”

“No,” Chris shakes her head, pursing her lips together. “We’re being private. He’s trying to protect me.”

“Alright,” Chandler chuckles, putting her hands up in defense. “I’m just saying, I never would have hidden Lex.”

Chris’ head physically recoils, forcing a scoff out of her mouth. Hannah laughs, too. “You literally hid Lex for two years,” Hannah says. “Like, genuinely you hid her from all of us.”

“That’s different,” Chandler argues. “I wouldn’t have hidden her if she was a man.”

“And Charles wouldn’t be ‘hiding’ me,” She says, forced air quotes around the word she can’t come up with a synonym for. “If every woman he interacts with wasn’t crucified,” she defends. “Can’t you just give him the benefit of the doubt, Jesus.” Chandler rolls her eyes and pulls out her phone, answering texts or emails or whatever else is so pressing as a distraction from the current conversation. “Seriously?”

“What?” Chandler spits, rolling her eyes. “I’m just looking out for you, Chris. You don’t have the greatest track record with guys, so forgive me for being hesitant to give you the benefit of the doubt.”

Chris bites her tongue, literally, and purses her lips. She nods, watching the dead serious look in her sister’s eyes with a glare of equal intensity. Finally, after what feels like an eternity of death stares, Chris puts a pretty smile on her face. “I’m really happy you came all this way, Chandler,” she grins, slipping her phone into her back pocket. “I’m sure Reid will be thrilled to see you,” she continues. “He missed you at his birthday party,” she adds, squeezing her sister’s shoulder as she passes, walking away and kicking up gravel when she does it. 

Saudi Arabia is no better. He has a great qualifying, but he also has that pesky grid penalty and a Ferrari that just doesn’t seem to have anything even close to race pace. The car just feels… so undriveable. So unpredictable. One corner it’s all oversteer, and the next it’s a completely different car, fully understeery. It’s just. It’s terrible, really, and he’s known it since the first time he got in the car. 

It doesn’t help that he spends the whole race stuck behind Carlos, who seems to have just as much pace as he does. He calls Chris that night, so fucking angry, and she gets an earful, one that he immediately apologizes for dumping on her after he’s gotten it all out. 

“It's okay,” she tells him. “I’m just glad that your bad days don’t line up with mine,” she joked, and he laughed because it’s impossible not to laugh at her jokes, even when he feels like shit. “Better days are coming,” she promised, and he wanted to believe her, but he also knew this car inside and out. 

“Not soon enough,” he told her, and she smiled. He can’t get enough of her smile. 

“Patience, grasshopper,” she teased, holding up both her hands in a meditative pose, humming out an ommm. 

“You are so dumb,” he giggles. 

“Oh, please,” she says, opening her eyes, relaxing again. “You love me.”

There’s a heavy beat of silence. So heavy that it can’t even be blamed on FaceTime lag. 

His brain is malfunctioning; heart racing, palms clammy, entire body sweating thinking she knows. Thinking he’s been entirely too obvious about it and not done nearly as good of a job as he thought. You should tell her. You should tell her. Yes. Yes, I do love you. I love you so much I don’t know how to tell you. I love you so much that I’m scared telling you is going to mess it all up. 

He can’t tell her like this, though. Not now, when he’s halfway around the whole and every nerve of his body is frustrated.  No, it needs to be when he’s with her. Not over the phone. He’s completely clueless as to when or where or what the right time is, but he knows this sure as hell isn’t it. 

So, he stays quiet. Because he’s sure if he speaks he’s going to just blurt it all out, and he hasn't kept his mouth shut this long just to say it like this. She’ll have to break the silence. It feels like it takes an eternity for her to do it. 

“So, uh, what time does your flight land here, again?” She asks, and his shoulders loosen just a bit. 

“Yeah,” he nods, wondering if she can hear his heartbeat through the phone. It seems like it’s the only thing he can hear. “Sorry, uh. Yeah. Let me look,” he says, grabbing his phone from its propped-up place on the hotel coffee table and scrolling through it to find his ticket to Georgia. “Five… ish.”

“What time do you leave?”

“Eight-something?” He says, still looking at the flight information. 

“What time is it now?” She asks. 

“I don’t know,” he admits. He’s been making a habit of losing track of time with her. “Late.”

“Go to sleep,” she says, her voice playing out of his phone speakers softly. He smiles at her voice, at her instructions, at the fact she cares enough to tell him to go to sleep. 

“Yes ma’am,” he says, and then salutes her for good measure. 

“Merci,” she giggles in butchered French, and his ears perk up like a puppy, a grin painting itself onto his face. 

“Oh?” He laughs. ““Tu parles français maintenant, n'a pas? fille drôle, je pourrais te dire ce que je veux et tu ne sauras jamais mieux,” You speak french now, do you? Silly girl, I could say whatever I want to you and you wouldn’t know any better. 

“Goodnight,” she says, ignoring the French they both know she can’t even begin to translate in her mind. “I’ll see you tomorrow?”

“Tomorrow,” he nods. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Miss Elliott has to leave right after the bell today, friends,” Chris hums, leaning against the front of her classroom desk, holding a stack of school newsletters. “Do you think we can get our room nice and clean before the end of the day?” She asks, smiling and nodding at the spattering of little yeses and nods. “Okay,” she grins, pointing to the whiteboard. “All of our tasks are on the big board,” she explains, running through each table and their room assignments. 

The class stays about on task as a herd of twenty-something five-year-olds possibly can, with Chris reminding them to stay on task—and reminding them what their task is—from her seated spot on the group rug, cleaning up the class library with a couple of other students. 

“Where are you going to, Miss Elliott?” Quinn asks her, handing over a book. 

“I have to go to Atlanta,” Chris hums, putting the book on the correct shelf. “Do you know where Atlanta is?”

Quinn nods, handing over another book from the pile on the floor. “Far away.”

“It’s not soooo far,” Chris smiles.

“I just have a uncle there.”

“Oh yeah? That’s nice. Do you ever go visit him?” Chris asks. 

Quinn doesn’t answer the question. “Does you have an uncle in Atlanta?”

“Nope,” she shakes her head. “I have to pick someone up at the airport.”

“Your boyfriendddd?” Quinn giggles, dragging out the letter sounds teasingly. 

“A boyfriend?!” Chris grins, laughing. “You think I have a boyfriend? I spend all my time at school with you!”

“No!” She laughs. “Landry sayed you have a cute boyfriend!”

“What?” Chris giggles, snatching a book from Quinn playfully. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, crazy girl.”

— — —

With the help of her students, Chris manages to get the room put together for the next morning in less than fifteen minutes after the end of the school day, checking Charles’ flight tracking one more time before setting off from the parking lot to the airport an hour away. 

He emerges from the sliding doors of his terminal with his bags and a bouquet of flowers. Chris is shaking her head, cheeks already half-pink and mind more than half-melted when she hastily parks against the curb, popping her trunk and hurrying around the back of the car to greet him properly. 

“Get in the car,” she giggles, “before they start honking at us!” she says, but Charles couldn’t care less about the angry airport goers behind him, leaving his suitcase on the curb, waiting with his arms already open and a tired, jet-lagged smile on his face. 

Chris resists the urge to just throw his entire body into the car and speed away from the terminal, instead hugging him tight, arms wrapping around his frame, slipping into the space between him and his backpack, the plastic casing from the flowers crinkling against her back when he hugs her just as tight. 

He kisses her hair hastily, “Hi,” he mumbles, watching her lips carefully. 

“Hi,” she smiles, giddy. “Eyes up here, brother,” she teases. 

Charles scowls, dropping his backpack off his shoulder and lifting it up into the trunk. “Do not call me brother.”

“Too incest-y?”

“I can get another plane,” he teases, pointing his thumb over his shoulder, and hoisting his suitcase off the curb with his other hand. 

“Go visit one of your other girls?” She asks, pressing the button on the top of the hatch to close the trunk. 

“See?” He laughs, parting from her just long enough for both of them to get into the car. “You get it,” he says, closing the car door and quickly reaching over the center console to pull Chris into a kiss, muttering something about you did not really think I was not going to kiss you?

It’s a familiar speech he’s given that morning, the same one she’d carefully handed out when he was here months ago. The be safe, don’t get eaten by a bear lecture. That’s not where it ends, though. Chris continues to go on and on and on about her Mom’s birthday party that evening—one of the many reasons he’d decided now was a perfect time for a quick visit—and how he was under no circumstances to go overboard on gift-buying, or even buy a gift at all for that matter. 

“I’m going to pick up a card on my way home from work,” she explains, standing at the end of the bed, work bag slung over her shoulder, travel coffee mug in her hand. “And I’m gonna sign both of our names,” she continues. Charles rolls his eyes from the bed. “What?” She laughs. 

“Your siblings’ partners…” he yawns. “They get her their own gift, yes?”

Chris hesitates, which makes Charles grin, which forces her to grin. “Yeah, but—”

“No but.”

“But,” she laughs softly. “They’ve been around longer than you.”

Charles scoffs, feigning offense. “Stupid reason.”

“But a reason, nonetheless.”

Charles shakes his head, smiling. Dramatically, he pulls the comforter back over his head. “Goodbye,” he mumbles. 

“Goodbye. I’ll see you later,” she replies, her shoes creaking against the floor as she moves through the hallway. “No gifts!”

“100 percent buying a gift, but okay!” he calls back, pulling the covers back down, listening just long enough to hear her car pull away from the driveway before turning the nightstand lamp off and putting himself back to sleep. 

— — —

When he wakes up again, much closer to an acceptable morning time, he’s already racking his brain for gift ideas. 

It’s an area of life he’s never considered himself particularly strong in. Sometime shortly after the appropriate period of making his Mum a homemade necklace from uncooked macaroni noodles and washable markers, he discovered he was particularly inapt at choosing gifts. 

It’s a shame, really, because he’s always felt like a good listener—especially when it came to people he cared for. And yet, every holiday and birthday and anniversary he’s struggling to come up with something besides an outrageously priced bouquet of flowers at the local florist. 

Which is why he sits on the sofa, legs kicked up on the ottoman, laptop on his legs as he searches What to get your girlfriend’s mum for her birthday? Birthday presents for Mum. Birthday gift ideas. Birthday gifts for Mums near me. What should you get your mother-in-law for her birthday?

Nothing is right. Everything is too silly or too impersonal or too cheap or too expensive for Chris to forgive him for buying. He’s scrolled through so many pages and so many articles hoping for an idea to spark that he’s starting to go crazy. 

Defeated, he closes the laptop, abandoning it on the couch cushion next to him, and dragging his feet all the way to the bedroom, planning on flopping face down on the bed. Instead, he comes face to face with the unmade mess, sighing. He haphazardly peels all of the layers off the bed, stripping the pillows of their cases, tossing them onto the pile of blankets on the floor. With two new pillowcases from the linen closet, he carefully remakes the bed. 

But now, there’s laundry. So he gathers up the pillowcases and the plastic purple hamper in the corner of the room and hauls it all to the laundry room. He tosses the entire hamper into the washing machine, and then stares at the shelf of containers. Three look dustier than the orange plastic container, so he picks up that tote and reads the instructions on the side of the box, following them carefully. When he closes the top of the washing machine, the start button glows green. He doesn’t dare adjust any of the settings, pressing the button and saying a soft prayer to the laundry gods. 

He pulls the dry clothes from the dryer, putting them back into the hamper—and they’re all white. Fuck. Was he supposed to do that with the pile of clothes he’d just dumped? Too late now. Another prayer to the laundry gods. He heads back to the bedroom, dumping the clean white clothes onto the freshly made bed, and folding away at them. He sorts them out by drawer, checking the continents of each drawer half a dozen times, and puts everything where he’s nearly certain it belongs—first in the closet, then in the dresser. 

Sitting atop the dresser are two loose rings and an unclasped necklace. He puts both the rings on the plate of her jewelry stand, and carefully clasps the necklace back together. It’s a thin gold chain with a row of several pearls in the middle. He hangs it gently with the other three pearl-styled necklaces that hang from the top pole of the rack. Pearls, pearls, pearls. She’s always wearing pearls. The next pole has half a dozen bracelets, most with pearls incorporated, and he can’t even begin to count the pairs of pearl earrings in the dish. It’s always pearls, because of what her Mom always says. Pearls make a lady. 

Pearls make a fucking lady. The answer to his question has been literally sitting in front of him this entire time. New Google search—re: Jewelers near me. 

— — — 

Charles is in the kitchen assessing the fridge for snack options when the front door is swinging open at a speed he can’t believe doesn’t result in a loud clattering of the house shaking. “Chuck!” A small voice calls out into the house, followed by another thud, presumably his backpack against the floor of the foyer. The noise continues, heavy little feet running down the hallway through the house, in his direction. Quieter, he can hear Chris, the metal jingling of her keys against the coated aluminum of her travel coffee cup, the click of her shoes down the hallway floor. His name is not Chuck, she hums behind the small boy. “And my name ain’t Reidy but you’s still call me that.”

“That’s different.”

“Nuh-uh.”

“Uh-huh,” Chris mocks. “I’m the boss,” she says, calling after the boy as he walks through the kitchen doorway. “I get to do whatever I want!” Chris calls out from another room in the house. 

Reid catches Charles’ eyes, squeezing between him and the fridge. He rolls his eyes, twirling his finger beside his head. “You are not the boss,” he insists, grabbing a juice box and a stick of mozzarella cheese. “You are like my stupid little boss.”

Finally, Chris appears in the doorway, shaking her head. Her eyes meet his and he feels himself grinning—an almost embarrassing amount. She looks so pretty, he thinks. So full of life and color. “I’m his stupid little boss,” she says, grinning. 

“Ah,” he nods, closing the fridge doors, moving to kiss her hello. “It’s like this, you know?”

“Do not tell me you haven’t gotten a gift yet!” Chris scolds her brother. First, he’s fifteen minutes late to pick up his kid, and then he has the gusto to ask her what she bought their mom for her birthday…. To give to her at the party in two hours. 

“Okay,” Chase laughs, “I won’t tell you.”

“Chase!”

“I have like, two hours,” he shrugs, looking at his watch. “Relax.”

“You’re ridiculous!” She insists, rolling her eyes. “Seriously. I got her a new Circuit because she’s always telling Dad how slow the one she has is running. And then I got her a bunch of scrapbooking stuff to go along with it.”

Chase nods, burying his hands in his pockets, rocking back on his heels. “And he’s just signing his name?” He asks, looking past her in the doorway to Charles, currently half-engaged in a Mario-Kart battle with Reid. Chris nods. 

“Actually—” Charles interrupts, eyes still focused on the game, hands moving with intentional precision over the controller buttons. “About that. I got her one of those….” he trails off, moving one hand to gesture around his neck. “You know. For your… here.”

“Your neck?” Chris questions. “You went out and bought a necklace?” She continues, thumbing at the gold chain around her neck. 

“Necklace!” He snaps his fingers, pointing in her direction before immediately flopping back into the sofa cushions, Reid laughing maniacally beside him at the sight of his rainbow road victory. “A pearl necklace,” he adds, holding his hand out to shake Reid’s. 

Chris smiles. A pearl necklace. A friggin’ pearl necklace. It’s so simple that it’s stupid, really. It’s dumb. It’s stupid and it’s dumb and it’s cliche, in all honesty—that he is the person to remember a one-off about pearls when he can’t remember anything else. 

“Oh, fuck you, that’s good,” Chase groans. “Hannah got her this, like… a cutting board with a recipe burnt into it or something.”

Chris shakes her head softly, still thumbing her necklace. “It’s Meemaw’s brownie recipe,” she says, her eyes glossed over, mind elsewhere. 

“On a cutting board? Because brownies famously need a cutting board.”

“Shut up,” she says softly, smacking his chest with the back of her hand. “It’s cute.”

“It’s expensive.”

Chris’s attention snaps back to her brother. “You won like, literally a million dollars a few months ago. But a cutting board for Mom is too expensive?” She questions, raising her brows, crossing her arms over her chest. “You better find something,” she warns.

Chase holds up his hands in defense. “I know. Worst case scenario, I’m a little bit late to dinner, okay?”

“Get out of my house,” Chris shuffles, gesturing to the open front door. 

“We’re going, we’re going,” Chase laughs, gathering Reid’s backpack from the floor, and helping the boy tie his shoes. 

Chris closes the door behind them, staring at Charles, her back pressed against the cool door. He looks back guiltily, gathering the controllers and putting them on the end table. “I’m sorry–”

“A pearl necklace?”

“Yes,” he nods. “Do you want to see it?”

She shakes her head, moving to join him on the couch, an almost painful smile pulling on her lips as she curls up against him. “I want it to be a surprise,” she hums softly. Charles adjusts underneath her slightly, wrapping an arm around her frame, pressing a kiss into the top of her head. 

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah,” she nods. “I’m just happy you’re here,” she adds. 

Is it possible for love to be a pearl necklace?

It’s an easy routine they’ve found—early morning alarms and goodbye kisses and listening to her try to sneak around the creaky floors without waking him up. 

Today, he gets a guest pass to a local gym and works out in the corner following a workout plan Andrea had sent him—minus the neck training. That’s not happening alone in public. 

After the gym, he heads to a grocery store—the biggest one he’s ever seen. He spends more time trying to figure out where he is in the store than he does actually shopping. Like, how many different kinds of pudding could one person need? A whole wall of cereal? Of chicken? Of milk? Be serious. It’s insane. What was meant to be a quick trip to the store for dinner ingredients has turned into a whole ordeal. 

He was just trying to make things easier—for Chris, not for him. It was the middle of her work week and instead of planning a lazy night at home, she’d planned out a million and one things for them to do while he was in town. Charles can’t help but feel like she’s trying to keep him entertained, and it’s a feeling he hates. It’s not her job to keep him entertained. He’s not a toddler. 

So, in response to their full evening schedule of a little league baseball game for her nephew, the possibility of some type of family gathering to follow that could last any vast pan of time, he figured the least he could do is make dinner and have it waiting for her when she got home. They aren’t on Reid duty after school, so it will just be the two of them. It can’t be that hard. 

He’s in the kitchen, humming along to The Kooks—watching the chicken and pasta and stirring the white sauce when she walks through the front door. “Bonjour bébé,” she says, walking through the doorway into the kitchen. 

His head shoots up from the pot on the stove, a smile instantly falling across his lips. “Oh, c’est bien, mon ange,” he says, even though her pronunciation was so forced she’d be laughed out of Paris. She’s trying, and he loves it, and he loves her. So, it’s a good job. 

“Really?” She beams. “It was good?”

He can’t help but smile at a smile like hers. “Yeah, very good,” he nods, kissing her quickly. 

“What are you making?” She asks, hoisting herself up onto the countertop beside the stove, wafting the air in the direction of her face. “It smells good.”

“Chicken and pasta,” he says. “One day, we are going to make pasta from the beginning.”

“You know how to make pasta from scratch?” She asks. 

Charles raises his brows, giggling to himself softly. “To be honest, no. I was hoping you did.”

Chris laughs out loud. “Oh. Well, then. We’re screwed.”

“No,” he frowns. “We’re in serious trouble if I have to be the good cook.”

“I’m not a bad cook!’ She insists, feigning dramatic offense, clutching her pearls, literally. Charles cocks his head to the side, glancing over to her. He smiles a come-on, now smile when she raises her brows in defense, an ache-inducing smile on her face. She is so beautiful it hurts. She is so soft it hurts. She is so, he supposes. End of sentence. 

“Et je ne t'aime pas,” And I do not love you, he mutters, leaning over to press a quick kiss into her lips, lingering just long enough to feel her grin. 

“En Ingles, por favor, Señor?” She asks, quirking a brow. 

“Not a shot in hell.”

“Please?” She frowns, and he actually considers it. Just momentarily, but considered nonetheless. Because what a moment this is. What a time it would be to do it, to say it, to make it known.

Instead, he shakes his head. “Maybe later.”

— — — 

“You’re going to want a jacket,” Charles mutters, moving behind her in the bathroom, sizing up her outfit. They’re getting ready to head out to the baseball game, and she’s wearing leggings and a blue sweatshirt with an Old English D on it—one that apparently matches the color and logo of Reid’s team uniforms. He’s opted for jeans, a white t-shirt, and a blue knit zip-up sweatshirt. It’s quite chilly out, and despite the sun peeking through the clouds, it’s windy. 

“I’ll be fine,” she says, running a brush through her hair. 

They remember to bring a backpack full of snacks, as well as two travel thermos mugs of drinks that are certainly not alcoholic. They forget their camping chairs, though, as well as the sweater Charles had planned on bringing for when Chris decided she did in fact want a jacket. And most importantly, they forget how to keep their mouths shut. 

It’s cold. It only gets colder as the sun sets, as the game continues. Neither their drinks nor the bottle of wine smuggled in by another one of the player’s mothers manage to keep the chill off. 

Chris stands against the fence that goes around the field with her mom, talking animatedly about who knows what. Charles steals Cindy’s empty seat beside Hannah. He watches as Chase and Reid walk up to them—Reid kicking up a trail of gravel dust with every excited skip. 

“Do you want kids?” Hannah blurts out from the seat next to him, and then before even a beat can pass, “Jesus, sorry,” she laughs. “Sorry. Ignore me.”

“No,” he smiles, as soon as he can regain his composure from the blindside of do you want kids. “It’s okay,” he reassures, adjusting in his seat, his eyes lingering on Chris for a moment longer than usual—just to make sure she isn’t hearing this conversation. 

“It’s really not,” she laughs, shaking her head, taking another sip of her definitely-not-wine. “It’s just that if Chase and I die, Chris gets Reid. And she’s… I mean. You see her. You know her,” she says. The sentence left unsaid is that anyone who has ever met Chris would know that if anyone was ever born to be a mother, it’s her. “And she really likes you. Like, a lot,” Hannah whispers. “And I like you, too—but I won’t ever like anyone enough to let her sacrifice something I know is so important to her—”

“I want children, Hannah,” he laughs, cutting her off. “Do not worry.”

“You do?”

“Three.”

“And you want to get married?”

He nods again, almost instinctively looking to his girlfriend, because, as he would argue if pressed about it—who else do you look at but your girlfriend when someone asks you about marriage? “Yes.”

Hannah notices his lingering glance, apparently, because the next words out of her mouth are: “To Chris?” Charles cocks his head back over to face Hannah, rolling his eyes when he does it. Hannah nods. “Sorry, fuck,” she laughs, covering her own mouth. “I know, what’s wrong with me?”

“It,” he starts, but then he’s stopping himself because he isn’t exactly sure what he planned to say. “There is nothing wrong with you. You’re just being a good friend—a good sister,” he pauses, looking back to Chris quickly, spinning his ring around his finger. “I don’t think it is the craziest thought, maybe,” he says, and he’s as surprised to say it as Hannah is to hear it. “But,” he holds up a finger and laughs. “Ask me in six months and I bet I can give you a proper answer.”

Hannah smiles, raising her brows, and takes another sip of her drink. “I’m gonna hold you to that.”

“Oh, I’m counting on that,” he says, and now he can stare without care. It’s normal, he tells himself, to think about it all after it’s talked about like that. It’s not his fault that he’s picturing it—his future, her future. Their future together. He thinks that maybe if he squints really hard and takes a step back he can see himself getting married. That maybe she’s there too, in some wedding dress that probably has pockets. 

“You’re thinking about it now, aren’t you?” Hannah asks, and it pops into his mindless bubble of crazy. He laughs, shakes his head, and pulls his phone out without saying a word. “You totally are,” Hannah giggles, and he feels his cheeks flush. “Look at you blushing, oh my god!”

Charles rolls his eyes, a smile pulling on the corners of his lips. “Shut up,” he mumbles. 

He watches from his conversation with Hannah, watches as Chris stands at the chain-link fence, hugging her own arms and shifting her weight from one foot to the other like she needs to pee, trying and trying to warm herself up with the friction of her own arms. 

“Did she bring a coat?” Hannah asks. 

“No,” Charles replies. “But she’s half a minute from forcing her to put on mine.”

“She can take mine, if she wants,” Hannah offers, but Charles turns her down. 

“No, no,” he says. “I am warm, anyways,” he lies. It’s cold out, but his mother raised a gentleman. 

Chris shivers one more time and Charles has had enough of watching her stubbornness. He takes off his sweatshirt and walks up behind her, draping it over her shoulders in the middle of a sentence. 

“Hi?” Chris says sweetly, turning to look at him over her shoulder. 

“Hi,” he smiles, kissing her cheek. “You’re cold.”

She rolls her eyes but smiles and mutters a soft thank you. Charles hums his response and nods, moves to return to the empty camping chair beside Hannah. Chris reaches out to stop him, catching his hand, his fingers interlocking into hers with a casual ease. 

He stands behind her, adjacent to her conversation with her Mother, watching the game through the fence. He’s barely listening, his focus split between the game he doesn’t understand and toying with Chris’ fingers behind her back. “I’ve been learning French,” she tells her mom. Charles smiles. 

“Oh really? Where at?”

“Uh, just on my phone. I got this app that you can do lessons on every day.”

“And you chose French because of…” Cindy trails off. Chris nods, her grip on his hand tightening, which really pulls his attention. 

“I’m pretty bad but he likes to pretend I’m a pro,” she grins, leaning back into him. 

“Well,” Cindy laughs. Chris shivers, moving to put on the sweatshirt instead of just having it draped over her shoulders. “Charles, you shouldn’t be scared to put her in her place.”

“Oh,” he laughs. “No, she’s a quick learner, really.”

— — — 

Cindy excuses herself, says she’s going to go and get some hot chocolate to take the edge off of the chill, and asks if Chris or Charles want any. Charles says no, Chris says yes—offers to pay but is denied. 

Once she’s gone, Chris is spinning in the gravel to face her boyfriend. “Thank you for the sweatshirt,” she says. “And thank you for not saying you told me so.”

“Are you still cold?” He asks, putting the back of his hand on her forehead like he’s checking for a temperature. It’s chilly, but it's not bitter or wintery. 

“Yeah,” she says, swatting his hand from her forehead. “I’m fine, just can’t get warm.”

“C’mere,” He says, pulls her into a tight, warm hug, fully wrapping her up in his arms, running his hands up and down her back. She melts against his chest. “I think it’s Reid’s turn,” he points out, and Chris spins in his grip to face the same direction so he’s hugging her from behind. 

Chris whistles, “Let’s go, Reidy!” She calls out, and then quieter, just to Charles. “He’s nervous that you’re here.”

“Hmm?” he laughs. “Why?”

“He wants to impress you.”

They watch Reid’s at-bat, watch him swing and miss on the tee twice without laughing. Chris is talking to Charles about whatever she and Cindy were talking about before he came over, neither of them taking their eyes off the game. Charles kisses Chris’ covered shoulder while he listens to her talk, runs his hands up and down her arms to create some friction. 

Reid hits the ball off the tee on his third swing, and Chris actually jumps with excitement. He hits it right to the second baseman, hurries his little legs towards Chase on the first base. Chris cheers through a laugh, her body vibrating against Charles’ chest. 

In a pause in the conversation, he wonders if she’s ever been more her than she is right now. At home, with her family, a never-ending well of love and laughter and beauty. He almost wishes that he could just observe her and all that she is, admire the woman he gets to love. 

This is the moment. 

It has to be. Perfect moments don’t exist but this has to be as close as you can get. “Are you okay?” Chris asks over her shoulder, “Your heart is racing.”

“Yeah,” he nods. “Yeah.”

“Yeah?”

“Um,” Fuck. Just say it, Charles. 

Chris laughs anxiously, turns around to face him, brows furrowed. “What’s wrong with you?”

“I love you.”

Chris doesn’t miss a beat. “No, you don’t.”

“I do,” he nods. “I’m so in love with you.”

Her face softens, the concern melting away. “Really?” God, she says it so soft that it’s almost a squeak. It hurts him how much she clearly wants to believe him. How maybe, maybe she does. He nods. “I love you, too.”

Charles beams, cradles her face in his hands and kisses her. Kisses her like they’re in love. Because they are. They pull apart in a fit of giggles, his thumb dancing on her cheek, running over a tear. “Are you crying?”

“Shut up,” she says through a smile, turning around to lean against his chest again, wiping a tear from her cheek with a sniffle. It’s cute, he says. “Shhh.”

Through a peppering of kisses on her shoulder, her hair, her cheek, he repeats between each peck. “I love you, I love you, I love you.”

last chapter masterlist next chapter

[6rookie-writer0110]

All that it takes

Scarlett Johansson x Male Reader

Request; scarlett johansson x younger male reader who is a singer who just finished a world tour and has a full beard, and it's starting to go grey and scarlett takes a selfie of them to celebrate 5 year wedding anniversary and people leave hate comments about him and when she goes on a talk show to promote a film the host agrees with the hate comments and she has a go at them and when she gets home she and reader cook together and lots of fluff but also her teasing that he's getting grey even though he's younger - readers in early to mid 20s.

Scarlett is at home and she is hoping that her husband will be home for the holidays. He has been on your for almost five months. She does talk to him on the phone and on Facetime, but she just wants him to be home. She is drinking wine in the kitchen and then hears the door open, she heads to the door and gasps.

“Y/N!” Scarlett smiled.

“Hey baby, I’m home” You smiled.

She rushed towards you and hugged you very tight.

“You are home!” Scarlett smiled.

She jumped on you and you held her tight, then she started to kiss you, and she was smiling at you. You carry her to the kitchen and put her on the counter and she has her legs wrapped around your waist. She starts to kiss you and she tells you how much she missed you.

“Y/N, I missed you so much. But I don't recognize you. Look at your beard and you already have some grey hair” Scarlett said.

“Yeah, I know. My manager told me I looked older” You said.

“Well, he is right. You do look older, now people will assume that you are older and I’m younger” Scarlett teased.

“I was telling everyone that you are my sugar mama” You teased.

“Not anymore, Y/N. Now, I have a sugar daddy” Scarlett smiled.

You kiss her again and she smiles. You and Scarlett head to the bedroom, you go to shower, and she starts to unpack your luggage. Later you come out of the shower and she starts to cook dinner for you. She listens to you talk about your tour and the fun you had with the band.

✯ ✫ ✯ ✫

You and Scarlett have been married for five years now, and the wedding anniversary is today. She was listening to the song you wrote for her and she loved it, she played the song repeat. Scarlett gets on her phone and she posted a picture of you and her that was taken a few days ago. You and Scarlett went to a dinner party and she is sitting on your lap with her arms around your shoulder, and you have your arms around her waist and you two are smiling in the picture. You didn't shave off the beard and she starts to write something before she officially posts the picture. A bit later, the picture started to get hate comments because of how you looked, and many thought, that she should leave you for good.

You are at the studio on your phone, you notice the picture that you posted. You did read the hate comments that you usually avoid, but you start to feel bad about yourself then you read what you posted about yourself.

Happy 5th wedding anniversary, to the love of my life. You make me happy and I can't wait to make more memories with you.

You couldn't help to smile. Then you ended the studio time early, you left and went to buy flowers, chocolate, and earrings. You drive home and you start to remember how you first met Scarlett…

Flashback~

2019

Y/N was invited to play live music at a private event. Scarlett is sitting down and she wants another drink, she grabs Y/N’s arm and he is confused about why.

“Hey, I would like another glass of champagne,” Scarlett said.

“Oh, I’m not the waiter,” You said.

“Really? You have the same outfit as them” Scarlett said.

Y/N and Scarlett looked around and she was right.

“I shouldn't have listened to my manager. Well, I’m actually going to perform in a little bit. But do you want to share a drink with me later?” Y/N said.

“I will wait for you later. I’m Scarlett” Scarlett said.

“I know but my name is Y/N,” Y/N said.

They smile at each other then he goes on stage and starts to perform. She is enjoying the music that he is performing. A bit later, she waited for him at the bar and she ordered the drinks. Y/N and Scarlett started to get to know each other and asked each other questions about hobbies and interests.

Flashback Ends~

You arrive home and you go on your phone. You remember that Scarlett is doing an interview to promote her new movie and the host is being a douche.

“What character do you play in the new movie?” The host asked

“The movie is called Fly Me to the Moon. And I play a character named, Kelly Jones and she is outgoing and isn't shy. She has to help NASA to fix their image and the astronaut's images” Scarlett said.

“Oh, that sounds very interesting. You and Y/N have been married for five years now? He looks older and not in a good way, he looks like a bum” The host said.

“I don't like what you said about my husband. He makes me happy and I like his beard and I won't leave him for anyone. You are not married and you have been married seven times before and you are not dating anyone. You go to an empty place and I go home to the man I love. Never disrespect my husband” Scarlett said.

She stands up and walks off stage and you are smiling. You post a comment on the video and everyone is liking your comment I love my wife.

Much Later…

When she arrived home, you hugged her and started to kiss her passionately. Her lipstick got on your lips

“What was that for?” Scarlett asked.

“Happy Anniversary, baby. I saw the interview and I like how you stood up for me and how you like the beard” You said.

“Y/N, I will stand up for you and I won't let anyone disrespect you. You defended me before and I will always do the same. Beard or no beard, you are handsome to me” Scarlett said.

She starts to kiss you and you hold her tight. You have the flowers and the gifts and she loved it, she can't stop smiling about it. You and Scarlett are going to cook dinner together, she saw a recipe that she wanted to try. You and Scarlett read the recipe together and then started to cook it together.

“I almost forgot,” Scarlett said.

She rushed to get the gifts from the closet, then she brought them to you. You start to open the gifts and she gets you an expensive guitar then you hug her. She takes a picture of you holding the guitar and you can't stop smiling. Later, you and Scarlett eat dinner together and she asks questions about the new music that you are writing. Then she puts on slow music and you stand up, grab her hand then she stares into your eyes. You and Scarlett start to slowly dance along to the music. You stare into her eyes and she can feel her heart race a little bit.

“I can do this with you forever, Y/N” Scarlett said.

“Me too, I don't want to be anywhere else Scarlett,” You said.

You and Scarlett keep slow dancing. Then she lies the side of her face on your shoulder and you don't let go of her.

“I love you” Scarlett whispered.

“I will always love you” You whispered back.

Later, you lie in bed and she has her on your chest. You and Scarlett start to talk about the movie, then she touches your feet with her feet then she gets up

“What?” You asked.

“Your feet are cold. Were you playing with ice?” Scarlett said.

“No, I wasn't” You giggled.

“I’m serious it's really cold,” Scarlett said.

“Just get the blanket” You giggled again.

She rolled her eyes at you and she did get the blanket.

[mixterglacia]

CONTENT WARING: Vivziepop/Stolitz Critical below the cut.

TL;DR- This episode was inconsistent to put it politely. I will not continue such niceties below the cut. You've been warned.

I'm going to start with the good. The jokes with Satan and his...therapist?? are delightful, and considering how awful this episode was, I will take it.

The bit where the rest of the imps are tormenting Stolas felt so good, but I'm aware we're meant to sympathize with poor wittle owl boi can do no wrong uwu. So that missed by a mile.

While it wasn't consistent, this episode had some stunning animation. Kudos to the team, especially those working on the shot where Stolas is lifting his cape in the song. That and the slow turns were beautiful.

Alright let's rip into this.

If the second half of this episode existed in a vacuum, it might have hit its mark. But it doesn't. This is TOTAL tonal whiplash. Completely unearned and obnoxious. Once again, we have the biggest helluverse problem:

I don't want to put in the effort to earn my drama. I am relying on the fandom to fill in the blanks so they cry.

The song is horrendously demeaning and bad. He's belittling him because he's in a place where Blitz can't fight back. You can't convince me that I should go from the tone at the start of the song to the end.

GOD i hate these two. there is nothing appealing left. They are a hollow, pathetic shell of what we were promised. this is "messy" in the way a dumpster is. This isn't some artsy spill of candy. This is trash with glitter poured all over it.

Suddenly we're getting Blitz's "truwe" feelings all dumped on us in the span of a single musical number. This is TERRIBLE. You have been so stingy with any level of development on his end that this feels like a car getting t-boned at an intersection. I guess "self indulgent" is code for "I didn't want to put in effort, i just wanted my OTP." Which is fine in a fandom sense, but this is a SHOW. You have to actually make us believe they feel like that. You have FAILED, and you're still trying to give yourself the prize? Man, you are deluded.

This was total dogshit. This was a rushed attempt to get Stolas in Blitz's house/bed. This was nothing short of MORE woobification of this dumbass owl. HE DID THIS TO HIMSELF. IF ANYTHING, THIS IS A SLAP ON THE WRIST.

He's a privileged piece of shit that is so babied by the writers that even his PUNISHMENT is nothing. So he's banished, but only for a hundred years, which is nothing to an immortal. If you're trying to bring him down to be on par with the imps, you've failed.

He's still going to get his job back in the future. He's still going to have money in the future. He's still going to have power in the future. If anything, you should have had the punishment make him be an imp for those years.

But no. You're so obsessed with him that you've centered the whole plot around HIM. Not I.M.P, not Blitz.

HIM.

This show has become so derailed at this point. Each episode is (somewhat) fine on their own, but you can't sit there and tell me they have any level of consistency. I keep thinking they're going to hit their stride, and they keep failing to do so. This is pathetic.

I'm very close to giving up on this series. Even analyzing it has become a chore. You aren't fun to watch, or make fun of. You're just mediocre.

I so desperately want these shows to have better writing. I want them to have quality and be successful at the same time. But currently we only have the latter and I fear that will wane in time if Vivienne doesn't get her head out of her ass and put in the effort I know her to be capable of. You can't keep coasting off of your pilot fans forever. I implore you to have someone work on the tone and consistency of the helluverse in the future.

Somehow Helluva makes Hotel look like high art, and that's a shame. When it was only the pilots, I truly adored Helluva. It had wonderful characters and great humor.

But here we are.

[realcube]

dilf decemeber

day one ⭑ tsukishima kei ⭑ hot neighbour x reader

tw : age gap, second-hand embarrassment

you know you shouldn't, but when you see the flickering lights of his car pulling into the apartements' resident parking bay, followed by the whirring of the elevator as it brings him up to your shared floor, you can't help but press your ear against your door from the inside to hear if he bought his kids home with him today.

they always fill the apartment complex with such a jovial and chipper energy; the other residents of your floor complain that his kids are too loud when kei brings them home after work, but you think 6PM is a perfectly reasonable time for them to be a bit boisterous.

regardless, it was a shame when all you heard was his lone feet dragging over to his apartment's door. but on the bright side, it meant you might get a moment alone with him tonight.

originally your plan was to let him get changed and have a moment to himself first before you started bothering him, but you quickly realised the food you made would be cold by then, and you'd rather him enjoy it while it's fresh and hot.

so without delay, you throw on a pair of flats and cute hoodie over your pyjamas and rush over to his apartment door, knocking on it eagerly.

it did concern you that greeting him so soon after he finished work would be irritating for him, and the last thing you would want is to be on his bad side, but he seems to have a soft spot for you. whenever you talk to him, even if he has his phone in one hand trying to make a call, and his kid pulling on his other arm, his gaze still appears to relax when looking at you.

and you hope he really does like you and this isn't all in your head, as you've also had your sights set on him ever since he moved in next to you. something about the way he sents off in the morning with his fitted beige suit on and hair perfectly pulled back. how stern and determined he looks behind those glasses in the morning, but come evening, it's typically melted into a stirring pit of stress and fatigue. but he still looks hot hauling himself to his door.

that why you decided it would be nice if you brought him something to eat — at least then he wouldn't have to worry about making dinner himself. you cooked a lasagna because you heard it was his kids' favourite meal.

it took a minute or so but eventually tsukishima dragged himself over to the door and pulled it open. "yes?" he calls out in a gruff, low tone. evidently he was expecting someone else, as when his eyes fall upon you in his doorway, he visibly straightens his posture, clears his throat and adjusts his glasses. "oh, (y/n). can i help you?"

"yes! i mean, no. uh," you catch yourself awkwardly strumbling over words already, while he just silently snickers, "i made this for you and your family. i hope you enjoy it." you offer him the lasagna, and he hesitantly reaches out and takes it.

"thanks. but it's not poison, is it? because i know how badly you all want my kids to be quiet." he jokes, but you immediately jump to defend yourself, abash at his implication.

"oh, no. of course not. i actually don't mind your kids making noise, i think it's sweet that they have so much energy and they should be able to express—"

tsukishima interupts your ramage but smirking and placing a large hand on your shoulder, "i'm kidding. i want them to shut up as much as the rest of you do." he says light-heartedly, glancing half-lidded between the lasagna in his hands and your glowing face, "but even if this was poison, i think i'd still have a bite. looks pretty decent."

"pretty decent?" you laugh.

"yeah, decent. might even be edible." he nods, trying to suppress a cheeky smile, "but i need to try it first to confirm. want to join me?"

"join you?" you repeat in shock, raising your eyebrows.

"yes. you're the one who made this, after all. you should try some." he turns around to head inside his apartment, looking at you from over his shoulder and quirking an eyebrow, "unless you've done enough volunteer work for today. you probably have better things to do then entertain the elderly." he teases, and you trail after him, following him inside.

"i always have time for the old and senile."

"well, aren't you just an angel sent from heaven?" he says mockingly, still brandishing a playful smirk, as he sets out places and begins to serve the slices of lasagna.

he motions for you to take a seat across from his at the dinner table, and you do so. he sits down too, after retrieving a tall bottle of red wine and placing it on the table for you to gawk at.

"ooh, that looks fancy. what's the occasion?"

he rolls his eyes and works at uncorking the bottle and serving it, "first childless dinner in three months. though, that's assuming that you count as an adult, which i'm not too sure about."

you can tell there is banter in his tone, so you reciprocate and reply in a light-hearted manner, scoffing playfully, "what the hell do you mean?"

"i can see your rainbow socks sticking out from your shoes." he replies monotonously, which causes you look down in dismay. and indeed, there it was. but instead of being outwardly embarrassed by it, you agonisingly try to conceal it with confidence and repartee.

"so what? they're comfortable and economical." you weren't entirely certain why you related your socks to the economy but fortunately tsukishima moved on. as he was pouring the drinks into your respestive glasses, he noticed you hadn't started eating yet so he encouraged you to do so.

"go on. what're you waiting for? are you waiting for me to take the first bite so you don't have to consume the poison?"

you roll your eyes and just to prove a point in a dramatic fashion, you cut a large section of the lasagna off and attempt to stuff it into your mouth. and for the most part you do, but in the process, a large serving of tomato sauce spills down your cheek.

you hastily grab a napkin and begin to clean it up, while tsukishima just sits across the table and laughs. loudly. "wow, angel. your status of an adult is really coming into question again."

you scoff, and once your finished chewing your large portion of lasagna and have seemingly wiped your face clean of any remaining sauce, you mutter, "just because i've not got cataracts yet, doesn't mean i fail to qualify as an adult."

"wow, rude. i don't have cataracts; these are regular glasses for regularly blind people." he teases, then follows it up by pointing to your cheek, "and it seems like you need them more than me. you missed a spot."

your face flushes in embarrassment, as you pick up the napkin and follow his gesture to locate the smudge, "where is it?"

he leans in closer, until his hands is near to your face, then quickly runs his thumb against your cheek — right beside your lips — and smearing cold sauce against your skin in the process. "right there." he chuckles.

you groan, using the napkin to wipe it away again. "so childish." you shake your head disapprovingly, and he just raises his eyebrows at you.

"well, that makes two of us."

btw ik it's not said explicitly but he's obviously divorced, this isn't a cheating fic.

[ickytreats]

Can you do a post about lil sis teasing and tempting big bro, talking him through it as he tries to resist before giving in?

One order of tempting Big Bro coming up! 🍨

Little Sis is seen as an innocent bean to everyone but Big Bro. He sees her true nature, at first he thought he was just thinking things. When she bent down in front of him she didn't mean to show off her pretty panties or when she wore none. Or when they would cuddle and she would push herself onto him. She even made eating ice cream sexual!

She doesn't know what she is doing, is all he would say to himself. Until one time he accidently got hard because she just couldn't keep still while on his lap Getting hard for your Little Sister? Come on Big Bro let's play. There he knew none of that was on accident and pushed her off. Rushing off and locks his bedroom door. He feels sick that she got him so hard every time she did something like that. Now that he knew what she was doing it wasn't long until it escalated.

Sending him lewd pictures, texting him sexual fantasies like him fucking her on the dining room table, making sexual comments in his ear while giggling, fluffing his cock under the table or blanket. Every time he would push her away he'd be so hard. He couldn't fuck her, that's his Little Sister!

Until one night Big Bro just got home and walked into his room. There Little Sister is playing with herself in his bed. Looks at him with a devilish smile. Please fuck me big bro…no one has to know. While she keeps playing with herself, he tries to look away and tries to tell her about Mom and Dad. They're not home Big Bro…you can fuck my tight..wet..desperate cunnie all you want. She says as she starts to crawl to the edge of the bed and pulls him closer.

Grabbing his hands and placing them on her tits, doesn't let him respond as she kisses him hungrily. He goes to pull away but she pulls him onto the bed first. He can't help it, he makes out with his little sis as he plays with her tits. She pulls away from the kiss and quickly undoes his pants. Not giving him time to back out as she sinks onto his cock. They both groan big bro shakes his head but his grip on her hips is tight. Just let it happen Big Bro, doesn't your little sister cunnie feel good? As she bounces on his cock.

It does it feels really good, but fuck is it wrong. That is all he can think of at the moment as he lets her bounce. As he finally says fuck it and starts fucking up into her. Making her squeal as he pushes more of his length, making her take more. She wanted this, might as well give her it all. As he flips them over and bottoms out in her, not giving her time to adjust as he fucks into her quickly. Didn't you want big bro’s cock? Here you have it, as he leans down into her ear. And I'm not stopping even if you cry, not until you are covered in my cum.

I hope this is good Anon! Request are always open!