#i was not the best person i definitely could’ve tried more

[suckd0g]

i think it would be easier for me not to ruminate so much about the last guy i dated if he had been awful but he was actually very nice to me up until the whole ghosting thing … i was a lot more flawed, seemingly . but also the fact i never got a clear explanation from him makes it worse. and also i’m on my period so there’s that too

now i’m eating stew with my big ass hair

[artdcnaldson]

Tie Break || Art Donaldson x Reader ; Patrick Zweig x Reader

this can be read as a sequel to changeover or as a standalone :) enjoy <3

Rating: E (18+)

Word Count: 7.7k

Warnings: SMUT (p in v smut x2, f!recieving oral, handjob, creampie, cum eating), angst with a happy ending, infidelity, toxic relationships, everyone in this is kind of a horrible person, language obviously

Summary: It’s summer in Atlanta, 2011. For the second time in your life, you’re the clear second choice. When the opportunity arises, you find a temporary distraction in Art Donaldson.

A/N: FINALLY here it is! The 2011 Atlanta fic. They’re back, they’re older, they’re even more toxic. Let me know if you’re interested in a part 3!

It was hot, even though the sun had long since dipped beneath the horizon. It was a cloying, oppressive heat that made the stupid, business-casual top you wore stick to your skin. 

The article you were working on was halfway written, something you could knock out in the next hour if you really tried. Your drink was watered down from the heat, weak when it hit your tongue. A frown turned your lips, but you really shouldn’t have been drinking anyway.

"Working late?”

The voice was so familiar that you could’ve recognized it anywhere, any time. Art Donaldson was one of the most recognizable men in the country, but to you, he seemed so different. The boyishness was still there, but it lay beneath a new level of confidence.

You took a sip of your drink, trying to appear nonchalant, like it hadn’t been four years since you last spoke. “I’m on deadline. I’m writing a feature on Anna Mueller heading into the US Open next month.”

Without asking, he sat down across from you at the small bistro table. He was so close you could smell the minty gum he had been chewing. It nearly made you smile. Old habits die hard.

“So you write about tennis?” He asked, meeting your gaze. 

“I write about athletes,” you corrected. “I was going to be here anyway, and since Anna is heading for a Grand Slam, I thought it would be easy enough. Grab a couple of interviews, watch a few matches.”

He nodded, leaning back in the chair, trying his best to be causal in a situation that definitely wasn’t. You sipped again at your drink, peering at him over the edge of the glass. 

“You have a match tomorrow,” you said, as though he needed reminding. “Shouldn’t you be listening to shitty pop punk to get yourself psyched right now?”

A smile spread across his lips, and he looked so much like the guy you knew from college that it made your chest tug uncomfortably. Same hair, the same smile, the same crinkle at the edges of his eyes when he was amused by something. You couldn’t help but smile along with him, like the past four years were nothing. “I don’t do that anymore,” he said with a laugh. “Do you want another drink?”

You looked down at your glass, mostly water and thin ice cubes. “Rum and coke?” You asked, giving him a tiny smile. He nodded and disappeared towards the bar.

It felt strange, sitting there in the quiet, your article the furthest thing from your mind. Four years. It felt like yesterday and an eternity ago that you’d last spoken with him. He was a familiar stranger, nearly unknowable. 

Your cursor blinked a few more times before you shut your laptop and slid it back inside your beat-up work bag. 

“Running off?” He asked, catching you in the act of packing your things. You shook your head and accepted the fresh drink with a smile. “You said you were going to be in Atlanta anyway,” he said as he sat, spreading out, making himself comfortable in the shitty bar seating. “When you were talking about writing about Anna.”

You nodded. “Mhmm, I did,” you replied, chewing the inside of your lip nervously. His gaze was intense, falling just on the other side of casual. You felt tiny under that gaze, like you were guilty of a crime you didn’t know you’d committed. 

“And you’re here for Patrick?” The words were nonchalant, but you could hear the accusation beneath them, the history of the two of them just in one sentence. It turned something in your stomach, the possessiveness in his voice. You could hear it, even four years out.

The new drink was strong, but it was the perfect way to hide the distaste in your expression. The burn of liquor into your chest grounded you back in reality instead of the easy allure of nostalgia. “Yeah,” you said after a beat. “I try my best to go to all of his matches.”

Art narrowed his eyes, just slightly. There was still an element of exaggerated friendliness, the casual smile on his lips, the open body language. All of it masking the lingering resentment and hurt that was buried beneath mountains of nostalgia. Deep enough that neither of you had realized it was still there until you found yourselves face to face. There was an unspoken question, one that he didn’t want to ask, one that you didn’t want to answer. 

How long?

You took another drink. 

“Where is Patrick?” He asked, glancing around like he might materialize out of thin air.

“He went out for a smoke, or to walk around and clear his head, or something,” you said with a shrug. “I’m not his keeper. Where’s Tashi?”

His jaw clenched and he looked away— a sore spot. A scab you wanted to pick at until it bled, dig your nails in. Maybe that was your eighteen-year-old self talking. 

“You never used to let her get too far away from you,” you noted, mirth dripping from each syllable. “Bet you came down here looking for her. Your leash must’ve been just a little too loose this time and she slipped it.”

You took a long drink, nails tapping against the glass as you considered your words. Tashi wasn’t the type of woman who let a man hold her back. If you were trying to be more accurate, rather than just piss him off, you might’ve fixed the analogy. Art was the sad little puppy following her around. She tied his leash to a lamp post for a fucking break.

“Do you remember the day Tashi got injured?” He asked, changing the subject suddenly. 

You blinked slowly, appraising him. But his expression gave nothing away. “I do.”

A wry smile spread across his lips, and he met your gaze with a coldness that you didn’t recognize. Mean in the way injured animals like to snap at the nearest hand. “It was Patrick in your room that night, wasn’t it?”

Your brows furrowed, face falling at his words. “What?”

He made a face, something akin to skepticism, but crueler. It made your stomach turn. 

“You were fucking someone in your room,” he said plainly. “And I’ve always had a suspicion that it was Patrick. Was it?”

That didn’t do much to clear up your confusion. “You were there?”

He laughed, mirthless, and nodded. “I was, uh, sitting by the door like an asshole. I came to apologize, to beg for you back, but instead, I spent the night listening to my girlfriend getting fucked on the other side of the door.”

Annoyance flickered in your gaze. He knew of a wound of your own, and he relished in picking at it the way you’d relished in digging your fingers into his. “I wasn’t your girlfriend, Art.”

“Right, you weren’t. But you’re Patrick’s girlfriend now, is that it?”

Heat burned in your cheeks. Your relationship with Patrick was… tempestuous to say the least. Most of the time he was your boyfriend, but others he was just a friend that you could count on for a good fuck, sometimes not even a friend. At the moment, he was the former, but that could always change.

It wasn’t easy, being with someone whose emotions ran on an equally short fuse. You’d sound too much like his parents, or he’d devalue your work, or Patrick would forget to take out the trash in your apartment and you’d snap, or you’d mispronounce a word one too many times and it would drive him crazy. Insignificant things could feel big with him, because of him. For better or worse. 

“At the moment, yes.”

“At the moment.” He echoed, laughing like he was in on some joke you were painfully unaware of.

”That’s amusing to you?” You asked, raising a brow. 

He shrugged, picking at his jeans. “Your choice of words is interesting.” He lets that hang in the air before he meets your gaze again. “Do you think Patrick would’ve even noticed you if it hadn’t been for me?”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes. “Does it matter?” You asked. “You realize that we’ve been together going on four years now, right? Broken up, dating, fucking, whatever. You realize that there may be more important things in our life than you?”

“Maybe, but I doubt it. I think you know that whatever you have, it’s built on the fact that you were a warm body when he needed it. Just like you were for me.”

That arrogant expression, like he actually fucking knew anything about you anymore was the last straw. You stood suddenly, grabbing your bag. You weren’t Art Donaldson’s little lapdog anymore— you didn’t have to sit there and take all the shit he doled out. 

“Goodnight, Art. Thanks for the drink.”

It was funny, how your weaknesses were still so exposed. Art’s was Tashi, and it probably always would be. His desire to be seen, to impress, painted upon every lovely feature. And yours, raw and bleeding and obvious— the unbearable, visceral need to be wanted.

You made it to the elevator before you felt his presence behind you. Wordless, but so close it was suffocating. You jabbed the up button over and over in frustration, knowing it wouldn’t speed anything up. 

Art stepped into the elevator with you, so close you could feel the body heat radiating off of him. He always burned hot, like a human furnace. 

It was silent as the lift lurched upwards. You pressed against the back corner, watching the number of the floor increase one by one. 

“Patrick is with Tashi,” Art said without looking at you, just as the elevator opened on the floor of your room. You froze, swallowing hard. “I saw them in the hotel bar, then they left together. What do you think they’re doing right now?”

You shook your head dumbly, pulse thrumming in your throat. “Go fuck yourself, Art,” you said weakly, because what else was there to say? You stepped into the hallway— lit with dim yellow light so you couldn’t see where the wallpaper peeled and the carpet was stained.

“If you need somewhere to wait them out, and you will, I’m in room 13 on the seventh floor.” The elevator doors closed, and you were alone. 

The hallway was winding, and you felt a bad sort of anticipation of what you might find, like a sick feeling in your gut. You stood in front of the room, 306, and froze.

The door to your room was closed, no light shone from beneath the door, but you could hear them. Muffled, but clear enough. A pretty voice and breathy moans. Patrick’s laugh, the thud of something falling off the dresser.

Your room key was in your purse— you could’ve gotten it out and stopped it, but what good would that have done? You’d still spend the night humiliated, facing opposite walls as Patrick, lying in the same sheets he’d just fucked her in. 

You dropped the bag by the door and took a slow, shaky breath to calm yourself down. 

Tashi Duncan. She had lingered on the edges of your relationship with Patrick too. She was Patrick’s first choice, just as she’d been Art’s. You’d never blamed them for that, you knew where you stood, and you chose them anyway. 

It was easy to choose them when you thought that the threat was nonexistent— when distance made you feel safe. You could hear her and him, but it felt like mere static in your brain.

You knew how Art felt, back at Stanford. Sulking outside the door, unable and unwilling to stop what was happening on the other side. 

You were in the elevator before you realized you’d walked away. Shitty soft rock played over the speakers, and a poster on the wall advertised a continental breakfast. Your stomach turned uncomfortably. 

You knocked on the door— room thirteen, an unlucky number. Maybe it didn’t bode well. As you waited for the door to open, your nails tapped a staccato rhythm against your thigh.

Art opened the door like he’d been expecting someone else. Maybe he had half-expected you to interrupt and send Tashi back upstairs, but no. He got you standing at his door with fiery eyes and an expectant expression. 

Second choice, second choice, second choice.

Art kissed you for the first time in four years, and you let him. Not because you wanted to hurt Patrick or Tashi, but because you knew it would hurt you. His tongue pressed between the seam of your lips like he belonged there, licking into your mouth like he wanted to reclaim every part of you that Patrick had touched. You pushed him with a firm hand on his chest and he stumbled backward into the room. Despite everything, he smiled. 

His hotel room was nearly identical to yours and Patrick’s. But you didn’t have time to really take in the details when he had his tongue in your mouth, kissing you hungrily.

That afternoon, you kissed Patrick after he lost his match. You wondered if Art could still taste him on your tongue then, if he wanted to drown out the taste of him. 

It was different than you were used to. Four years with Patrick meant that you’d grown accustomed to certain ways that he did things— the intensity behind each kiss, each touch. His emotions— good, bad, in between— were never masked, never repressed. 

When Patrick kissed you, when he touched you, when he fucked you— both of you were laid completely bare. 

Art was different. When he kissed you it was through a certain level of performance, like he’d learned how from a searing romance film. In college, you’d believed that he kissed you like that because deep down, he did love you. Even at that moment, years out from your relationship with him, it muddled your brain.

Your sensible work heels had long since been kicked off by the door. Art’s fingers undid the button and zip of your jeans deftly, with a confidence that had only doubled since Freshman year. They wound up in a heap against the hotel dresser. 

In his haste to remove your (also sensible, and very business casual) button-down, he popped about half of the buttons off completely. 

“Sorry,” he said. The grin on his lips made you wonder if sorry was really how he felt. “I’ll buy you a new one.”

“Stop talking.” You pulled off your bra and lost it somewhere across the room in your haste. Art was pulling off his clothes— his hoodie and the shirt beneath. His jeans and shoes toed off and left to be dealt with later. 

He kissed you again, guiding you exactly where he needed. Your knees hit the back of the mattress and he eased you down without moving his lips from yours. When your head hit the sheets, you smelled perfume so sweet that it was nearly intoxicating. You turned your head, breathing deeply. Tashi. In this same bed, in this same spot. It made something stir inside you— right in your chest. A hint of wrongness, a hint of hurt. 

Art pulled back, moving his lips along your jaw, down to the junction of your throat. 

“Stop thinking,” he murmured against your skin, kissing down to your tits. “I don’t want you thinking about Patrick. Not when you’re with me.”

The words were mumbled against soft, supple skin. His eyes were intent as they looked up at you, the demand of momentary fidelity in his eyes. You wanted to slap that expression off of his face, or run your thumb along his cheek and hold his face in your hands. 

How was it fair that he asked you that when he’d lingered like a ghost on the edges of whatever it was that you and Patrick had? How was it fair for him to look at you like that?

He took a nipple into his mouth and you gasped as his teeth grazed against the sensitive skin. Soft kisses before he suckled softly. “Okay,” you gasped, lying through your teeth. “I’m only thinking of you.”

His hair was still long, kept the same way he wore it in school. Your fingers tangled in his hair like muscle memory, scratching against his scalp as he kissed along your skin with wet lips, treating your other breast with the same, hungry attention.

“Still so fucking hot,” he mumbled against your skin. “Should’ve— fuck— should’ve kept you. What do you want, huh? Tell me.”

Your mind swam with possibilities, but you didn’t even know where to begin. Your mind was stuck on his previous words. Should’ve kept you. What the fuck was that supposed to mean?  “I don’t know,” you replied, completely honest. “Whatever you want.”

He accepted that easily— it was so similar to how you’d been for him in college. You gasped as he kissed down your sternum, then your stomach. His lips found the waistband of your panties and he grinned, tugging at the lace with his teeth, letting it snap back against your hip. 

He peeled your panties down slowly, letting his hands trail down the expanse of your legs. The possessiveness of the touch sent a thrill up your spine. His lips grazed along your skin, from your ankle, up your calf, then your knee. Your legs spread instinctively, welcoming him right back where he knew he belonged. His pretty lips trailed wet kisses up your thighs, stopping just where you wanted him. 

You expected him to rush. He’d seen Patrick and Tashi leave, which meant they’d finish before you two, more likely than not. There was every reason in the world to make things quick— to fuck you and make you leave. 

Instead, he took his time with you. Soft, teasing kisses peppered on the supple skin of your thighs before he nuzzled into your cunt. The first delve of his tongue was slow and exploratory, tasting the arousal that had pooled at your core. 

”God, you still taste so fucking sweet.”

Another thing you’d nearly forgotten about Art— in all things, he was methodical.

He started with kitten licks at your clit— light brushes with his tongue that made you whimper needily for more. His tongue circled you there, and he relished in the way your fingers tugged on his hair at the sensation. 

Then he wrapped his lips around the sensitive bud, sucking with more pressure until a strangled moan squeezed past your lips. Your thighs tensed on either side of his head, holding him there as he alternated between slow, soothing licks and firm suction.

It was frustrating, how wet you were. Art had brought out the worst in you, turned you into something that left you feeling genuinely embarrassed. And still, you were slick, dripping down to the sheets. A mess of arousal and Art’s spit. 

When he eased a finger into your cunt, it slid in like your body was made to fit whatever he could give you. At that point, you very well could have been. What were you, if not an object orbiting in the atmosphere of his life?

He looked up at you, seeming so fucking intent on making it feel good for you as he crooked his finger. It rubbed against the soft, spongy spot within you and you cried out, eyes rolling back. 

“That’s it, huh?” He cooed as he pressed a second finger inside of you. Your arm was slung over your face. You couldn’t let yourself keep looking at him when he was looking at you the same way he had in college. The same fucking expression that got your head all mixed up in the first place. 

He pressed a soft kiss to your clit and you whimpered. “I know it feels good, baby, just relax.”

His fingers thrust within you with a slow, deep pressure as he continued to make out with your clit. It was always so good with him— you’d nearly forgotten how easy it was for him to bring you to the edge. 

When you came, it wasn’t like what you had grown used to with Patrick— sudden and overwhelming, like it had been ripped from some secret place within you. It was intense, but slow to build, seeming to last forever as Art’s fingers and tongue worked you through it. Your breath was shaky as he pulled back, pretty mouth wet with your arousal.

“Do you want to stop?” He asked, looking up at you expectantly. 

You should’ve stopped— rationally, you knew that it was best to turn back and quit before you fucked up the situation beyond repair. 

But it was Art. He could’ve had anyone else, but he wanted you. Maybe not forever, or even longer than that night. But for then. 

You shook your head softly. “No. Do you think we should stop?”

His fingers moved between your thighs, circling your clit. “We definitely should. You’re with Patrick.”

You sighed, eyes fluttering as he caressed you with featherlight touches. “Don’t fucking talk about him,” you said, but your words came out with no bite. How could they, when he was playing with your body like a favorite toy?

“No?” He asked. He was wearing a smug sort of expression. “You don’t want me to talk about your boyfriend, huh? Too personal?”

You moaned as he applied more pressure at the apex of your thighs, making your cunt clench and ache to be filled. 

“Does Patrick know how much you’ve missed me?” He asked. Your breath caught in your throat, and he just smiled. “I bet he does. I think he knows that if he just drops my name in a conversation, your pussy gets wet.”

You moaned softly at his words, chest heaving with soft pants. You weren’t even sure if it was true, but it felt like it could’ve been then. He leaned down, his words spoken close to your ear.

“I can go slow. Make it last for you.” His lips brushed the shell of your ear, making you shiver. 

You nodded eagerly, turning your head to capture his lips with yours. The kiss was slow, like you had all the time in the world. His tongue against yours, the weight of his body on top of you, the feel of him hard, pressing against your thigh. 

He sat back to strip off his boxers, and you relished in the sight of him laid bare before you. You’d nearly forgotten how pretty he was— big and flushed nearly red with need. It made your heart hammer with nerves; your excitement and shame and need rolled into one messy, electrifying tangle. 

His hair flopped into his eyes as he held himself over you, just like you remembered. You reached up, brushing it out of his eyes with a tender hand. His lips brushed against the inside of your wrist, right where your pulse thrummed in your veins. 

“Tell me you’ve missed me.”

Heat flooded your entire body, as you repeated the words. “I missed you, Art.” You reached between your bodies, wrapping your hand around his cock, and guiding it towards your entrance. He moaned and bucked instinctively into your hand.

”Tell me you want me to fuck you, no one else.” You could hear the implications in his words. Tell me you want me, not Patrick. 

“I want you to fuck me.”

Art pressed himself inside of you, sinking into the welcoming warmth of your cunt. You wrapped your legs around his waist, squeezing him closer, deeper, until his balls pressed firm against you and there was nothing else to give.

He thrust shallowly, rocking against a spot deep within you, one that made your eyes flutter with each brush against it.

“You’re so tight still,” he moaned, lips moving against your throat. “Pussy’s made just for me.”

He touched you like he hadn’t forgotten how you felt or what you needed. Spoke to you like you were one of his possessions.

You lost yourself in it— the sweet, filthy words spoken against your skin, and the rhythm of his body moving against yours. His lips captured yours with a hungry insistence, like he could convey four years' worth of unspoken words with a few brushes of his tongue against yours. 

When he pulled back, lips spit slick and looking so pretty, you thought maybe there was a sort of understanding between the two of you.

His head fell back as he sped up his thrusts, chasing his release. There wasn’t time to stretch it out, to spend as much time as you could with each other’s bodies. 

“Need you to cum,” he said, sliding a hand between your thighs to rub your still-sensitive clit. Your cunt was squeezing him tight, body aching for it, for him, brought to the edge simply because he’d asked for it. “C’mon— you get so tight when you cum, need to feel it again.”

It was like your body was hardwired to give him exactly what he wanted. You came with broken moans of his name and legs squeezing him closer, deeper. Your chest heaved with shaking breaths and punched out whimpers as he kept fucking into you.

He was practically crushing you with his weight, pinning you down, groaning into the junction of your shoulder. 

“Gonna make me cum, baby,” his words vibrated against skin tacky with a thin sheen of sweat.

”Want you to.” Your arms slung around his back, holding him close to you. “I’ve got an IUD, so you can— you can cum.”

His lips met yours as he came, with a pretty moan into your open mouth and slow, messy kisses that made you want to just melt into him and stay that way forever. 

Spent, he rolled over and turned on a lamp at the bedside. The alarm clock announced the time in a dim red glow— five past one.

You lay there, damp between your thighs from the mixture of your releases, unsure of what to do. It was cold beneath the hotel AC. He was peering over at you, wearing an expression you were scared to dissect.

When his hand touched your arm, you nearly flinched. Your breath caught in your throat as he ran his thumb along your skin, so sweetly that you felt that same discomfort tug at your chest. 

“C’mere,” he said, an offer. His arm was splayed over the pillows, giving you the perfect spot to lie down and press yourself against his side. To pretend like you belonged there.

But you didn’t belong there. You belonged four floors down with Patrick. That’s where you had belonged for four years. The reality of what you’d done had set in quickly, and you knew you needed to get out of Art’s room. 

”Art,” you said softly, shaking your head. “I have to go.”

He nodded and sat up against the headboard. You watched him grab his boxers and pull them back on, a strange smile on his face. He must’ve sensed your confusion, even without you saying. 

“It’s funny how things change,” he said. “Here I am, asking you to stay for once.”

You didn’t say anything as you picked up your clothes from around the room, redressing as you recovered each piece from its hiding spot around the room. Your shirt was unsalvageable, so you grabbed Art’s. He had plenty of brand sponsors that would jump to replace it, and Patrick wouldn’t recognize it.

“I loved you, I think,” he said suddenly. “Back in college.”

You froze, arms crossed over your chest as you looked at him. “Art—“

“No, I did. I loved you, I just did it all wrong.”

“Art, just stop,” you said firmly. Embarrassment hit you all at once— the guilt of what you’d done, and the shame over who you’d done it with. Your eyes stung as you looked at him. “Why the fuck would you say that?”

His lips twitched, dipping into a frown, then back into as close to a neutral expression as he could manage. “I just thought you should know. It’s only fair.”

You laughed mirthlessly. “Fair? Jesus Christ, you really haven’t changed, Art.” 

His expression fell completely. It looked like it had back in the hotel bar— icy. “I haven’t changed? What’s that supposed to mean?”

You sighed as you looked at him. “It means that if this were Stanford, that would’ve made me crawl right back into bed, lay by your side, and daydream about what it could mean for us. If one day I might be Mrs. Art Donaldson. It means that you say these sweet things to me every time you can feel me slipping away, but they mean absolutely nothing. We’re not nineteen anymore, Art. I’m not leaving Patrick to be your plaything again.”

His jaw tensed, and he looked down at the bed briefly while he picked at loose threads on the sheets. “You think that’s what I want?”

You frowned. “I think you want what Patrick has.”

He scoffed. “Patrick doesn’t even want what he has,” he said, relishing in the wounded look on your face. “If he did, he wouldn’t be fucking my fiancée right now.”

Fiancée. You felt stupid for not knowing it, but you swallowed down your hurt and met his gaze. “I guess we’re both going to have to be content with being the second choice.” You slipped on your shoes and went for the door. “Good luck with your match tomorrow, Art. I sincerely hope that I never have to see you again.”

The hallway felt colder when you stepped outside of the room and shut the door firmly behind you. A very big part of you wanted to go back, to knock and apologize and grovel like you might have when you were a freshman.

Maybe you hadn’t grown up that much after all. 

The elevator was playing Billy Joel. You leaned against the side of the elevator, relishing in the cold against your sticky skin. When the doors opened on your floor and you stepped out, you blinked in surprise. 

Tashi stood in front of you for the first time since college, looking just as stunning as you remembered, probably more so. Her hair was pulled up, slightly damp at the ends. Her eyes flicked down to your shirt, Art’s shirt, you swallowed as an understanding passed between the two of you— wordless, because what was there to say at that point?

”You left your laptop in the hallway,” she said, skipping formalities. “I took it inside so it wouldn’t get stolen.”

“Okay,” you said, chewing on your lip. She stood there like she expected something more. You felt her surveying you, and froze as she reached forward and rubbed at your bottom lip.

“He could’ve at least cleaned you up a bit,” she said. Her fingers delicately fixed your hair, tucking it back into place. She wiped a smudge of lipstick from the side of your mouth. Once there was nothing left to fix, she looked at you one last time and nodded. “You should be fine now.”

Before you could process that, she stepped into the elevator, and you were left alone in the hallway. When you made it to the room, the door was cracked open, so you let yourself in.

Patrick was on the balcony smoking a cigarette, a towel slung low around his waist. The bed was a fucking wreck, not that he seemed to mind. 

When the door clicked shut, he stubbed out the cigarette he was smoking and joined you back in the room. 

“Are we going to talk about it?” He asked. His jaw tensed as he looked at you, like he was ready if you were going to start a fight.

“I just want to go to bed, Patrick,” you said, annoyed by how wobbly and pathetic you sounded. 

He stepped forward and kissed your forehead. “Okay. We’ll go to bed.”

You kicked off your clothes, but left on Art’s hoodie. Patrick didn’t ask where it came from, or what happened to what you were wearing earlier. You knew he already knew, that he could tell the moment you walked in. He dropped the towel onto a heap on the floor, climbed into the bed, and held out his arms for you.

A stronger person would’ve told him to fuck off, but you weren’t a stronger person. You nestled into his side and felt the hot sting of tears in your eyes. 

He rubbed your back soothingly and kissed your forehead. The sheets smelled like Tashi, he smelled like hotel soap, and you smelled like Art’s cologne. 

“Do you want room service in the morning?” He asked softly.

“Patrick—“

“I’m serious. We can have breakfast in bed, do some tourist-y shit, maybe we’ll go watch a couple of matches, then come back and—“

“Are we supposed to just forget what happened?” You interrupted.

“I thought you didn’t want to talk about it.” He kissed your forehead, tender, sweet. “I’ll tell you everything if that’s what you want.”

You met his gaze. “Do you… do you want to know? About Art?”

He went quiet as he played with the ends of your hair. “Did it make you feel any better?” He finally asked. 

“Yeah,” you said softly. “Then it didn’t.”

He kissed the crown of your head. “No?”

You shook your head, sighing softly as his kisses trailed down, over your nose, to the sides of your mouth. “No. It was a mistake.”

”Tell me about it,” he said, murmuring against your jaw. “Tell me how he touched you.”

You shivered, tilting your head to give him more access. Your nails scratched softly against his scalp as he sucked bruises onto your throat. 

“He was desperate,” you said, heart hammering as you began recounting it to Patrick— your boyfriend. There was no world in which he should’ve wanted to hear about it… and yet. He moaned against your throat, encouraging you, wanting to know more. “Kissed me like he wanted to taste you in my mouth, like he wanted to overpower you.”

Patrick moved his lips to yours, kissing you with a sloppy brush of his tongue against yours. “Like that?”

You shook your head and leaned in, deepening the kiss with slow laps of your tongue into his mouth. He moaned softly, matching your pace in a way that was rare, but made butterflies dance around in your stomach. He pulled you on top of him— hands roaming from the backs of your thighs to squeeze your ass as he deepened the kiss. It was just as slow and sweet as before, but you could sense the need and hunger behind it.

You pulled back, just enough to remove your lips from his. Both of your breaths came in needy pants. You weren’t sure why you were enjoying this, but you were, so you kept going. “He took off my clothes, and laid me down on the bed.”

Patrick moaned, chasing your lips. You sat back and just looked at him— lying there with still-damp curls, his pupils blown with lust. His cock was hard, resting against his stomach, precum beading at the tip.

You pulled off Art’s hoodie and tossed it across the room, relishing in the way Patrick’s eyes raked over every bit of exposed skin like it was the first time he’d seen it. “He ate me out, made me cum on his fingers first, then again while he was inside of me,” Patrick’s breath caught, just for a moment. Desire, or jealousy, or both flickered across his gaze. “He fucked me like he wanted me to fall in love with him again.”

Patrick’s chest was heaving as you moved a hand between your bodies, grasping his cock in your hand, stroking slowly. “Is that how you fucked Tashi? Like you wanted her to pick you instead of her fiancé?” He moaned as your thumb ran over his slit, smearing the precum that had begun to dribble out. 

“No,” He groaned. You nodded encouragingly, squeezing him tighter in your fist. “Fuck. I fucked her like I wanted her to know she made a mistake. Made her cum until she tapped out”

You ran a thumb over his bottom lip, tugging slightly. “With this pretty mouth, huh?” He nodded, wordlessly. “And with this?” You gave a slow stroke of his dick, making him buck up into your fist. Another nod. 

“Show me.”

Patrick’s brows furrowed in disbelief. “Show you?”

You nodded and continued stroking him. “I told you about Art, so I want you to show me how you fucked Tashi.”

You recognized the fucking insanity of what you were asking, but you didn’t care. It was a strange form of closure— closing the circle, or whatever. 

“Fuck, okay. Lay back,” he said, patting your thigh. You slid off his lap and settled atop the sheets, watching him expectantly. 

His fingers hooked in the waistband of your panties, and he slid them down slowly. “Fuck.” Your cheeks flooded with heat as he held the sodden fabric up, wet and sticky with Art’s cum. He groaned and hooked your thighs over his shoulders. “That’s… god, that’s really fucking hot, baby.”

Oh. The mix of embarrassment and desire was something new— burning hot in the pit of your stomach as Patrick licked at your pussy, tasting the evidence of your arousal mingling with Art’s release. He moaned against you, holding you so tightly that his fingers dimpled your thighs. 

His tongue lapped at your entrance, pushing into your cunt as deep as he could manage, then back to licking at your clit. It was messy— a combination of spit and cum and your juices.

“Fuck!” You cried out, tugging his hair as he sealed his lips around your clit. He moaned loudly against you, encouraging you to do it again, the fucking masochist. 

He redoubled his efforts, pulling you closer, moaning against your cunt. It was like he wanted to devour you, to lick up every bit of Art that was left inside of you. You wanted him to try— you wanted him to replace every part of Art that was left in your body and soul.

“Patrick,” you gasped. He murmured an mhmm against your pussy. Eyes closed, right at home between your thighs, lost in the taste of you. “Need you inside.”

He planted one, two sloppy kisses to your clit before he pulled back, his lips shiny with your arousal. He wiped the mess away with the back of his hand, smirking down at you. “You need me, huh?”

You nodded, chest heaving with each panting breath. Patrick sat down at the headboard and patted his thigh. “Prove it.”

You sat up, crawling up the bed until you were straddling his lap. “You made her do all the work?” 

He laughed, running his hands up your thighs to squeeze your ass, tug you closer. “I didn’t make her do anything.” Patrick had a hand wrapped around his cock, and you moaned softly as he guided it between your thighs to notch at your entrance. 

You sank down slowly, forehead pressed against his as you took inch after inch. “Fuck,” you breathed. You leaned forward, brushing your lips against his as you gave a slow roll of your hips. “Fuck. You’re so deep, Pat. Feels so good.”

His head fell back against the headboard as you began to ride him in earnest. “Fuck, just like that,” he groaned, still wearing that fucking smirk, even balls deep inside of you. “That’s it, baby, take what you need.”

And you did. The way he was looking at him was proof enough, he was eating up every fucking second of you fucking yourself on him, using him like a toy. 

Your noises were near-pornographic— Right there, fuck, you’re so big baby, so fucking deep.

The poor soul next door slammed on the wall, begging for you to just shut the fuck up. Patrick silenced you with a hungry kiss— a mess of tongues and spit. His fingers moved on your clit, pulling you towards the edge with desperate need. 

“Close,” you gasped. 

He nodded, moving his fingers faster. “I know you are. I’ve got you.” 

You collapsed on top of him as you came— hips canting weakly as he worked you through it. He thrust up into your tight walls, groaning at the feeling of your cunt spasming around his cock. 

“Fuck, you feel so perfect,” he groaned, burying his face into the junction of your throat. “Gonna cum— fuck—“

You moaned softly at the feeling of him spilling inside of you— the soft pulse of him, the warmth of his cum flooding your cunt. You stayed on his lap, kissing his freckled nose, his eyelids, his mouth. 

When you finally moved off of him, you whimpered at that loss of fullness, and of the slick mess seeping out between your thighs. If you were smart, you would’ve gone and cleaned up, but there was nothing more you wanted than to lay there in Patrick’s arms and fall asleep. 

Whatever. You’d leave housekeeping a very generous tip. He sighed contentedly as you lay there— like you were made to fit against him perfectly.  A warm hand rubbed comforting circles on your back, and you felt so at home, even in an Atlanta hotel. 

“I love you, you know that?” He asked.

You looked up and nodded. “I know. I love you too.”

You found yourself staring up over at Patrick with a stupid, persistent smile on your face. He turned to watch you watching him, wearing a matching grin on his face. It was hard to tell who started laughing first— you or Patrick. At the absurdity of it all, at yourselves. 

“God, we’re so messed up,” you said, with another laugh.

He nodded. “Really messed up, but whatever. Apparently your brain isn’t even fully developed until you’re 25.”

“Great, so we have one more year until we’re normal, rational adults.” He laughed, holding you against his chest. 

He reached over and kissed your forehead. You were so sticky and gross that you really needed a shower, but, again— it was a tomorrow problem.

It fell quiet, and you could feel yourself slipping into comfortable drowsiness when Patrick finally spoke up. “Are we going to be okay?”

You blinked slowly. With your hand resting on his chest, you could feel his heart thudding just beneath your palm.

When you were twenty, you met Patrick’s parents. Crowded into his childhood bed with your head resting against his chest, his heart pounded as he apologized for the intense grilling you’d received that night at dinner. It was the first time you ever felt like his bravado had been shaken, like you were seeing through to the core of him. 

You always knew you would be the one to say you loved him first— it was just the way things went. “I don’t care if they like me,” you had assured him. “I love you.” His heart beat harder, faster. He didn’t say it back until two days later, when he was fucking you in that very same bed— forehead to yours, skin sticky with sweat. “I love you,” breathed into your mouth like air. 

When you were twenty-two, you moved into an apartment in Manhattan and Patrick followed like a housecat— no rent, no job, just company and a mouth to feed. The tour wasn’t going well, and you were working for a shitty, clickbait news site that hardly covered the cost of your place. 

Things were good, mostly. Comfortable, domestic. Patrick tried to be a good boyfriend, you tried to be a good girlfriend. Both of you were trying to figure out what that meant for the other as best as you could. Patrick would bring you flowers from the corner store and take you out for drinks and dancing on weekends. You’d drive out on holidays to visit his family and wind up leaving early to go back to the comforts and peace of your apartment. 

When you could, you’d follow him out to tournaments. If he won, he’d take you out with the prize money. If he lost, you’d take him back to the hotel to cheer him up.

On rough days, one of you would come home to the apartment and pick a fight over laundry, or a dish left in the sink, or even what he’d left on TV, and the other would give it back tenfold. Your neighbors would beat on their walls in annoyance as you yelled at each other, until one of you slammed a door and sulked in another room for a few hours, or you had make-up sex that gave the neighbors another reason to bang on their walls. 

The breakups were infrequent but severe. You’d kick Patrick out, he’d live out of his car, or in a motel, or fuck off to some tennis tournament that you’d previously promised to go to. One of you always broke first, returning to the other with promises of love, and to do better.

You did love each other, really. And things usually got better. It was just easy to live with your feelings dialed up to a ten where Patrick was involved: bigger good moments, worse bad ones. 

Your career had vastly improved. Patrick had moved up in the rankings, only slightly, but it was something. You could afford a bigger apartment in a nicer area, maybe get a dog. And you didn’t just want those things alone, you wanted them with him. 

You pressed a kiss to the center of his chest and nodded. “We’ll be fine,” you assured. It felt like the truth.

He nodded, looking down at you. His freckles were so much more pronounced after tournament after tournament in the blazing sun. “Yeah, probably.”

The next morning, you both got the continental breakfast you’d seen in the elevator while housekeeping dealt with the aftermath of the previous night. You did tourist-y shit— went to a museum, found a nice spot for lunch.

At the end of the day, you sat in the oppressive Atlanta heat with Patrick and watched Art Donaldson win his tennis match. You and Patrick left early, fucked in the backseat of his car, and decided to head home early. 

As you started the drive back, you held his hand over the center console and listened to a shitty mix CD with songs he’d ripped off of LimeWire. You gave him shit when Kelly Clarkson followed Lil Wayne, but you both sang along to every fucking word. 

You were right. You and Patrick would probably be fine.

[thepersonnamedsam]

you already know how much I love gen z driver! could you maybe write something of how would it be if gen z reader’s birthday happened to be during one of the gp’s? how everyone acts and makes it all about her?

happy birthday!

pairing: the genz!driver x '23!grid

summary: it’s the genz!drivers birthday, and it just happens to be the miami gp!

word count: 1.7k

warnings: some swear words and some google translated spanish and dutch :)

note: oh i just love all of your request, especially that one, bc i’m a birthday lover myself! have fun reading it and feel free to request more!! <3

masterlist/ taglist

The first people to congratulate her, were her parents. They called her, in the middle of the night; they forgot that time zones exist. But her heart was full when she picked up the phone at 3AM and both of her parents where singing ‚happy birthday‘ to her. What wasn’t so good, was that she had to be asleep, because it was a Sunday and race day! But it didn’t matter, it was her birthday!

Two hours later, her phone was ringing again, but this time not because someone was wishing her a happy birthday, no, it was her alarm. But today it was okay. 5AM on your birthday doesn’t feel that early, does it now? At least it didn’t for her.

Andy, her personal trainer, knocked on her door at exactly 6.30AM, holding a tiny cupcake with a candle in it. „Happy birthday, y/n!“, his voice cheerful and happy. Her smiled widened and her heart full with love again. „Thank you, Andy.“

„Are you ready for the race?“, Andy asked her. She nodded and closed her hotel door. „I’m excited to see Danny again and Nando and all the other people of course. Oh and definitely Lewis.“, Birthdays were her thing, she always missed them in school, either she had them on a weekend or she was on holiday. So, being surrounded by people who are important to her, was the best present she could’ve gotten.

On the way to the paddock, Andy let her pick out the music, her car playlist was blasting on full volume. Tongue Tied by GROUPLOVE was her favourite song at the moment, that’s why she was singing at the top of her lungs to the lyrics.

„Take me to your best friends house, go around this roundabout, oh yeah“, she looked at Andy as if he would follow the orders of the song.

The music died down, as they arrived at the paddock. Press was already waiting on her, they knew it was her special day and hoped to get some good footage of the birthday-girl. Usually the media annoyed her this early in the morning, but today, nothing could’ve ruined her day. She smiled and waved to the camera, spoke to some press people and had nice conversations with all of them.

The media always tried to find some gossip, especially on the young driver, but not today. They were happy to see her this happy.

As she set foot on the paddock, people were congratulating her. Pads on the back, some strokes on her arm here and there, everyone was nice to her, and who doesn’t enjoy some attention sometimes. Especially if it’s for something you didn’t work for. It was her favourite day of the year, Christmas is second.

„Danny!“, she shrieked as soon as she saw him. She sprinted towards the Australian and jumped into his arms. „I missed you so bad!“ Daniel just laughed and hugged the young driver. „Happy birthday, y/n.“

Her smile was consistent and contagious, every person she smiled at, they just had to smile back. Even Max smiled at her. Well, he always smiled at her, she was one of the persons that could make him smile.

„Max, can you give me a piggyback ride?“, she looked at him with puppy dog eyes and he just couldn’t deny her. „Of course, zus sister.“

As Martin Brundle spotted the two, he motioned to his cameraman to put the focus on them. „And now we see Max Verstappen carrying the birthday girl y/n. It is not rare to see the young driver interact with the different drivers. Let’s wish her a happy birthday“, he talked into the camera. „Hello you two, happy birthday y/n, am I the first to congratulate?“, the older man looked at her with an amusing look on his face. „Martin, as much as I love you, you are hopefully not the first person to wish me a happy birthday“, she looked at him with a serious face.

„Did Max congratulate yet?“, a challenging look on Martins face, he pointed at the camera and said: „Remember, this is a livestream.“, Max‘ cheeks turned a pretty pink colour and y/n gasped. „He did not!“, she gasped. „Max, you didn’t wish me a happy birthday?!“ - „I’m sorry, schat darling. Happy birthday, my dear.“

But how could she hold a grudge against a face that looked like Sid from Ice Age?

Fernando was the next person she saw, and he instantly grinned at her. „Oh Nando, do you know whose special day it is today?“, she singsang to the oldest driver on the grid. „Hmm, let me guess, is it Roscoes?“, he laughed as he saw her shocked face. „How could you, I thought we were friends?“ - „We are, we are, cariño darling. Feliz cumpleaños happy birthday, y/n.“

„How old are you now, 5?“, he laughed at her. „Har har, very funny Nando. How old are you turning this year, 60?“ She was always getting irritated fast. He grabbed her by her hip and pushed her into a side hug of his. „Don’t ever change, cariño.“

„Don’t have a plan for that, who’d change something as fabulous like this“, her hands were pointing to herself. „But on a serious note, Nando, do you know where Lewis is? I’ve been searching for him.“ Fernando only shook his head, he didn’t know where the British driver was. He rubbed over her hair as she left his side to search for her mentor.

„Oh Lewis! Your favourite person is looking for you“, she shouted over the paddock, with no luck. She didn’t even see a trace of Lew, none. But what she did find, was a monegasque driver with the number 16 and a spaniard driving under the number 55. They were arguing over some bullshit, as always, as they spotted her. „y/n! Over here“, Charles shouted over to her and waved his hand. She ran over to them and greeted the older drivers with a side hug. Carlos quickly kissed her head as he wished her a brilliant birthday. Charles even sang the first to lines of the song.

She was a bit embarrassed, but she enjoyed the attention of the two Ferrari drivers. „I love you guys, but have you seen Lewis?“, she smiled at the two as they rolled their eyes. She just wanted to see her favourite person on the paddock. She loved them all equally, but you couldn’t deny that Lewis definitely was her favourite. „I think I saw him at Mercedes, his motorhome“, Charles told her, she totally missed the sarcastic undertone of his and just skipped along to the Mercedes garage.

Before she even set a foot in the motorhome, Toto Wolff approached her and squished her into a hug. „Alles gute zum Geburtstag, liebes! Happy birthday, darling! How are you, so happy to see you“, he whispered into her ear. She loved Toto. „Hi Toto!“, she grinned up at him, „I’m good, thank you. Do you know where Lewis is?“ Toto laughed and pointed to his drivers room. „Thanks!“, she yelled as she took off.

She hasn’t been to her own motorhome, just wandering around the paddock and taking in all the attention from the others. And as she knocked on the door, she knew she’d receive the best attention of them all.

„It’s open“, she heard and busted into the tiny room. „Hello, your favourite human on this planet has arrived and will be gracing your presence from now on!“ She grinned at him and he only laughed and embraced the girl. „I have a present for the birthday girl? do you know where she is“, he joked and turned around to grab her present. „A present? Aw Lewis, you shouldn’t have, you totally should have.“

The present contained some gag gifts, such as a Mercedes hat and shirt, or some shirts with funny pattern on it. But the original present was a necklace. It wasn’t anything special, really. It was a simple silver necklace with a tiny turtle as a pendant. Her eyes were tearing up, so she quickly wiped them away.

„Is this one of the necklaces that makes you a godparent of a sea turtle?“ - „It sure is, have fun with“ he turned the pendant around and looked at the engraving on it „Yertle. He is now your godchild“, he smiled at her and motioned to y/n to turn around, so he could put the necklace on. „Thank you so much, it means a lot“, she hugged him as a thank you. He smiled at her, he adored the young driver and was grateful that he was apart of her journey.

„Thank you, love you Lewis!“, she yelled to him as she sprinted out of the motorhome. She was finally headed to her own garage. They had planned a surprise party for her and Lewis was the distraction. As she reached her motorhome, she didn’t see anyone. „Hello, is it not race day?“, she joked into the dark.

„Happy birthday, y/n!“

She jumped, her heart was racing, but she had a giant smile on her face. Her heart, once again, was full, full with love.

„Ahh, thank you guys!“, she squealed and sprinted into the engineers and mechanics, just like she won a race, which she hasn’t, by the way. She hugged all of them, thanked all and smiled the biggest smile she ever smiled. „I’m so grateful for all of you! And now, let’s win this race!“

She didn’t win, but was one of her best birthdays so far. And the after party was her personal highlight of the day. There was a huge pile of presents, just for her of course.

Lando was the DJ, Max was standing on a table, preparing to do a toast for her and Danny was laughing and pointing his camera at everybody.

The evening was definitely something she’d remember, maybe not Max‘ toast, as it was very embarrassing;

„Dear people, we have gathered here to celebrate not only my win, but also a birthday of some special person. She is not our girlfriend, which we are all happy about, but they’re all jealous of her, y/n! Happy birthday, you beast, come up here!“

The alcohol definitely made it more bearable, but the fact that Pierre had to drag you to Mac spoke for itself.

„Pierre, let me be, go back to your boyfriend“, she spoke harshly to the French man, but he ignored her with a smirk on his face and brought her up to Max.

„Ladys and gents, the birthday girl herself!“

It was one of the better party’s she attended and when she looked at all the posts she’s been tagged, she found one particular that she liked the most.

daniel3.jpg

Liked by yninsta, charles_leclerc and 473’827 others

daniel3.jpg happy birthday to my personal favourite female driver of all time! let’s raise a glass or two, to all the things i’ve lost on you ;)

View all 4638 comments

yninsta i am the only female driver…

landonorris that’s why your his fav

yninsta rude af

daniel3.jpg don’t fight kids

charles_leclerc happy birthday y/n!

carlossainz55 yeah, feliz compleaños to our fav girl

pierregasly liked by pierre gasly

f1girly we love all the drivers in the comments, y/n is definitely the paddock princess

likedbypear oh yes, idk if i want to be her or with her

yninsta be definitely with me, c’mon

neymarjr happy birthday y/n!

°°°

taglist: @ironmaiden1313 , @topguncultleader , @missskid , @gulabjamooon , @lovelyy-moonlight , @peachyplumsss , @mistrose23 , @copper-boom , @love4lando , @champomiel , @serenityleah , @iloveyou3000morgan , @angelwithoutmywings , @elleeeee21

[pjsfvs]

Friends? I Think Not - Choi Yeonjun

PAIRING: bff!yeonjun x female reader

SYNOPSIS: in which yeonjun, your best friend, learns about your rather unsatisfactory sex life. who better than him to show you how it's properly done?

GENRE: smut

AUTH. NOTE: my account is undergoing a huge switch so a lot of things will be changing :33

The room was too hot for your liking.

It was like this every time you came over to Yeonjun’s. You heard somewhere that cats were often fonder of hot temperature than cold. Maybe he really was a cat inside. You could bet your life insurance on that.

You let your eyes wander inside his comfy room. It felt more like home than your room did, somehow. As extra as it is, he hung dim lights from his room walls, insisting “it adds up to the mood”. His room definitely wasn’t that messy for a guy who lives alone, to your surprise. Never too bright, but not too dark either. Chaotic neutral. It fit his personality well.

“You come over pretty much every day, and yet you still stare around quietly as if it's your first time here. Is my room that much of an aesthetic to you?” Yeonjun laughed from beside you. One hand under his head, he found himself unable to divert his attention from you. Not that you minded, of course. You took the eye contact like a challenge, meeting his golden amber eyes with equal amount of... hidden intent. He looked at you as if he wanted something so desperately- like he was barely holding himself back. Soft gaze observing the entirety of your face, he quietly tried to burn every small detail to the back of his mind. As you would do the exact same.

If someone walked in on you two, it would look almost like you two were dating.

“It fits your vibe somehow.” You quietly muttered to answer his last question. As your friend let out a soft giggle at how your eyes were shining in the LED lights, he could’ve sworn he saw the entire milky way through them. To him, moments like these really mattered. Quiet, peaceful, just you two. Like nothing else existed in the wide universe.

Just you two.

“Were you talking about something you wanted to do?” You suddenly remembered about him talking about a game he wanted to play with you. Were Kai’s habits rubbing off on him? You always knew Yeonjun also liked to play games, but he never really asked you to humor him whilst shuffling around with the console.

“Oh yeah, but it’s pretty lame. I just brought it up because we had nothing to do today.”

“But we usually have nothing to do anyways.”

“Ouch, babe.” It took all your muscles tensing to stop yourself from reacting to that nickname. He always knew how to push your buttons to get you flustered. You weren’t going to give in like how he wanted. He could only let out another laugh at your expression.

“What did you have in mind, then?” Yeonjun awkwardly scratched the back of his neck while averting your gaze at your question.

You narrowed your eyes at his reaction. So, he said he wanted to it because “we had nothing to do”, but inside, he really wanted to try this game he was talking about.

“21 questions”. You couldn’t help but groan and roll your eyes.

“Come on Yeonjun, we’re not middle schoolers anymore. You could just ask anything you want to know, and I wouldn’t think anything of it.” Letting out a defeated laugh, Yeonjun directed his honey hazel eyes at you. You were not entirely sure what he was getting at, but his ability to have you remembering all the nights you dreamed of those eyes was something else.

Moments like these reminded you about how you dreamt about him so vividly often times whilst deep in slumber. The unavoidable eye contact briefly exchanged giggles, 4am conversations, slight brushes of Yeonjun's hand on yours- it spoke volumes. Even if both of you practically knew you had feelings for each other, neither had done anything to seal in the deal. For you, it was the commitment. You weren’t sure you would be able to handle him fully. He had been with you for better and for worse, in sickness and health, in ups and downs. Choi Yeonjun was with you through everything. He was someone you just couldn't afford to lose. He was precious, more valuable than anything you ever had in your life. That’s exactly why you were hesitant. If you two broke up, it would cost you too much. You were afraid. Afraid of losing him over something like... love.

If you had to ignore this feeling in your chest to have Yeonjun for your whole life, you would. You would choose him for eternity.

“Is there a specific question you have for me then?” You were forced back to consciousness when Yeonjun suddenly spoke. Momentarily, you were taken aback.

“Your body count?” You narrowed your eyes and voiced out the question that you’ve been curious forever. As far as you knew, he had two serious relationships, and a few on-and-off flings here and there. Judging people by their body count was dumb, and you were aware of that. But it did catch your interest.

“Six.” His piercing gaze never left yours while shifting on his bed to face your side. Fair.

“It’s my turn right? I’ll ask your body count too, then.” See? Any friend would be curious about these. Especially horny young adults like him and you.

“Four.” You said with a long sigh. You knew he would never judge you for it or anything, but it was still nerve wracking. Yeonjun’s expression didn’t change one bit. Instead, he still kept a close look on your face. Even without him voicing it out loud, you knew he was worried if you were insecure about it in any way.

“No, I’m okay Yeonjun. I know you wouldn’t think weirdly of me.” Letting out a laugh to lighten up the mood, you tugged your hair behind your ear.

“Hey, you continue with another question. You should lead these kinds of games, not me.” From the way he immediately lifted his eyebrow, you knew he didn’t mind controlling where this game went. Again, with the unbelievably attractive confidence of his.

“I see you as a 100% bottom, and I know I am right.” You furrowed your eyebrows at how overly sure he sounded.

“Do you have any ounce of dominance in you? Can you top anyone at all?” Damn, were you supposed to answer honestly, or act tough?

“…I’m not sure. I don’t think I do.” He let out a low whistle and a domineering smirk at your statement. Every single thing he does seemed extra attractive today, why was that? You could bet your monthly wage that it was on purpose to get you riled up.

You could almost physically feel Yeonjun’s eyes roaming through your entire body. It was hard to ignore when he was making the atmosphere thick to the point you could practically cut it with a knife. You two weren’t touching each other in any way, but the way he was staring at you felt like he was intentionally trying to get you in the mood. The mood.

“Next question, baby?” You felt your face getting hotter by minute. You couldn’t help it when he practically purred your favorite pet name with that face.

“Could you stop that-”

“But your reaction is too good to pass on.”

“How good would you say you are in bed? You can be honest you know; I wouldn’t judge~” You let out a choked laugh and covered your mouth to prevent laughing in his face. Yeonjun chuckled at your question too, but still kept the mischievous glint in his eyes.

“Well, you could see that for yourself, can’t you?” Him licking his lip slightly didn’t go unnoticed. These small sly movements never went unnoticed with both of you. Taking on the silent invitation, you lightly pulled at your shirt collar. He tried hard but gave into temptation in the end. By the way his eyes stayed a few seconds more than appropriate, you knew it was revealing your collar bone right now. Or maybe a bit more.

“I’m not sure, no man has ever satisfied me in bed before you know.” Yeonjun's eyes snapped at the unexpected statement. You could practically hear his inner voice. Four bodies and-

“You mean you’ve never came in bed? Like, never?”

“Never.” Before you could process what was happening, you felt a shift in Yeonjun’s mood. By the time you returned your eyes to his, the only thing you could see in those beautiful hazel eyes were desire. Burning fiery desire, and pure sinful lust. Just with his hot intense gaze, you unknowingly rubbed your thighs together.

“Want me to change that?” Despite his explicit suggestion, he gently put a hand on yours. You knew that if you said no here, he would not pursue anything. He would drop it in a second and continue normally like how you two did until now. Never did you even think Yeonjun would look at you this way. With such tempting desire written all over his eyes.

You knew you shouldn’t give into the voices in your head. If you did this, it would be harder to ignore your feelings. Those feelings that are overwhelming inside of you, it would get harder and harder to manage. You should refuse.

But your body acted otherwise.

“Maybe you should.”

As soon as you muttered the words Yeonjun had been longing to hear, his persona changed in a split second. He flipped you over easily and got on top. As he hungrily looked down at you, he felt a sense of pride he never felt before. He was going to own you. Him. Not anyone else.

He wanted you. You, every bit of you.

Never once in your life have you felt such desire before. Never did you ever want someone as bad as you wanted Yeonjun right now. You hated that it had to be him, but it didn’t matter. Not when you had your hand in his hair, kissing until you two were out of breath. His hands never stopped roaming around your entire body like you were already his property.

“Baby… You have to promise to tell me if you don’t like anything that I do. Anything. Is that understood?” Yeonjun’s honey eyes found yours again. The last thing he wanted to do was hurt you. You nodded and pulled him in again.

As soon as your lips met, a fire ignited. It was like you two were waiting for this very moment for forever. You were finally able to inhale the masculine scent of Yeonjun. Like a mixture of caramel, rosewood and musk, his smell was intoxicating. You couldn’t get enough of him.

You were still unsatisfied by the time he broke away from the kiss. With a low chuckle, he took another look at your current state. Cheeks burning, eyes clouded with nothing but pure desire. Your body practically waiting to be ravaged by him, there was nothing sexier than that in the world.

“Yeonjun…” You let out a quiet whimper when he dived in for another kiss. Slowly, his lips slid all the way to your neck. His hot breath fanning over your skin, you inhaled sharply in order to stabilize your breathing. As Yeonjun’s large hands carefully slipped your smaller ones into his hands, he softly held them.

“Tell me, baby.” You opened your eyes at his request.

“Tell you what?”

“That you want me as much as I do. That I can fuck you the way I’ve always dreamt of.” The vulgar words that came from his mouth sent a violent shudder down your spine. You were not used to dirty talk, but it was something you would gladly get used to if it meant Yeonjun was the one.

“I-I….” You found yourself struggling to follow his commands.

You let out a sharp gasp when Yeonjun grabbed both your wrist by his single hand and pinned it above your head. The forceful slam on the headboard rang in your ears as you found yourself staring at the man with wide eyes. His beautiful eyes looked dangerous. Like a wolf staring at his prey.

“You have nowhere to run now, baby. Follow my orders, and I might just reward you.” Struggling to hold his heavy gaze, you closed your eyes.

“I want you so much, Yeonjun… Fuck me, you can do anything you want with me!” He lets out a low groan at your sweet words, the grip on your wrists tightening. Yeonjun jumped at the opportunity to spread your legs and position himself in between. Immediately, you whimpered when his clothed length rubbed against you.

“Good kitty.” Yeonjun whispers into your ear. He moves more, slowly grinding his hips against your throbbing core. The action had you choking back a needy moan. Even from that, you could tell how delicious his cock would be when you finally had it for yourself. Arousal flaring through your entire body, you struggled to stay still.

“Look at me.” Even if you heard his command, you couldn’t do so immediately. Not when you felt your entire body crumble with the slightest of movements. Not when you knew you were soaking through your panties by now. You felt so overwhelmed with desire for him.

“Fucking look at me when I tell you to, baby.” He spat the venomous words, landing a slap on your inner thigh. You flinched at the unexpected contact and let out a broken moan. You couldn’t help but meet his dangerous gaze.

“That’s right, keep your eyes on me. I want those pretty eyes on me only.” He said whilst grinding even harder against your clothed heat. His dick was so hard, you could practically feel him pulsating. He was rock hard- for you.

You bit your lip to maintain your voice while still holding the eye contact.

Once again, he leaned into your neck. When he placed a gentle kiss, you let out a small whimper. You couldn’t help but find your fingers tangled in his messy black hair all over again. When his hot tongue started traveling over your sensitive neck, you bit your lip even harder. You made a futile attempt to move your arms. Yeonjun was having none of it- the iron grip he held was too strong.

“Stay still, slut.” Your eyes flew open. It was so unexpected, but so delicious to hear from his swollen lips. You couldn’t help but let out breathy moans here and there when he ravaged your neck as much as he could. He didn’t leave a spot open, not an inch where he didn’t kiss, bite or lick. You were sure to have quite a few love bites tomorrow.

He let your wrists go to take off your top and skirt. You faintly remembered wearing tights. When he noticed the thin material, he didn’t give you a chance to answer before instantly ripping it to shreds. Roughly stripping you out of the clothing, he hungrily took in the sight of you in your underwear.

God damn, you were stunning. Your beauty could rival any goddess. And you were all his.

“Mine.” He growled when placed a kiss on your collarbone. He unhooked your bra and threw them across the room. Large rough hands fondling your tits, he continued the trace of love bites downwards. He wanted to mark every inch your body if he could’ve.

As much as he wanted to just destroy you immediately, your pleasure was the priority to him. He had no intentions of rushing anything today. But even so, some things had his patience running out.

You let out a loud gasp when he ripped your beige panties as well. The unexpected gesture sent a burning arousal straight to your core. You were sure to be soaking wet by now, you could even feel it yourself. The sudden exposure to the cold air had you shivering.

You made a futile attempt to close your legs in embarrassment. Contrary to your wishes, Yeonjun’s hands held a firm grip on your thighs to prevent that.

“Don’t you dare hide this pretty cunt from me, baby.” The absolute filth coming from your usual science-nerd best friend had you clenching around nothing down there. The need of having him inside you was growing rapidly each second. You wanted to touch, kiss, and feel him in every way you could.

So you decided to test what he questioned earlier. You flipped over.

Having Yeonjun under you felt like winning a prize, somehow. You felt a sense of absolute pride, and wanted to own him like he was talking about. You wasted no time in connecting your lips to his and proceeded to take off his hoodie. As soon as his top was off, your eyes ran hungrily over his ripped abs, and gosh, he looked so darn beautiful. Drunk off his manly cologne, you wanted to taint him with your scent. If you were animals, you wanted to knot him with your mark. You badly wanted him, in every way possible.

Your hips moved automatically, grinding against him sensually. Growling, Yeonjun’s tongue swirled around yours. The hot open-mouthed kiss took your breath away, your nails sinking into his shoulder. When you finally broke away, you were conflicted on what you should do next.

Yeonjun took the second of hesitation as a chance to get on top again. He flipped over with such ease, as if you were as light as a snowflake.

“When did I give permission to do that, y/n?” Your name sounded dangerous when he growled it like that. Once again, you felt your hot core pulsing and dripping.

“Keep your eyes on me while I eat this pussy out, doll.” His narrow eyes looked even sharper than before when he finally had a proper look at you. The sight of you naked, whimpering his name was something he would never forget.

He secured his grip on your thighs before diving in.

Yeonjun’s hot breath over your soaking cunt, he took a second to spread the lips apart. Almost immediately locating your clitoris, he lightly teased it with his thumb. Satisfied with how your body shook violently, he felt himself get rock hard.

When his hot tongue brushed over your sensitive clit, you could’ve sworn you saw stars. Dark hazel eyes never once leaving your orbs, he carefully observed your reaction to each of his motions. You let out a sharp yelp.

Yeonjun experimentally flicked your bud. Wet muscle attached to your swollen clit; his wolf-like eyes never left your face. Lewd sounds of your juice filling the room- your cheeks burned in embarrassment.

Wasting no time in finding your sweet spots, he left you clawing on his bedsheets in no time. He circled his wet tongue teasingly on your bundle of nerves, he lightly flicked it directly. The sensation too mind-blowing, you cried out his name. Yeonjun was relentless in his actions, fingers sinking into your soft thighs as he ate you out like a man starved. He wasn’t afraid to get messy, all he cared about was how your body trembled every time he sucked gently on the sensitive bud. Brutally ravaging your cunt, he sensed that you were nearing your orgasm.

“Y-Yeonjun, I-I’m close!” You cried out, gripping the bedsheets like your life depended on it. Nothing could prepare you for the powerful orgasm that was coming, you could just hope you wouldn’t go mad. It was so close; you were so close-

Until he pulled away.

Eyes wide with tears, you whimpered and stared at Yeonjun pleadingly. Not sure what you could even say, you wiped the tears brimming your eyes.

Before you knew it, he had started again.

Yeonjun had made it his goal to edge you until you lost your mind completely. The sight of you so fucked out, completely succumbed to him- Yeonjun groaned into your cunt at the thought.

He would do it until you felt the knot in your lower regions, threatening to break any second- And then stop. You would chase your high, pressure in your lower stomach building up more and more- until he ripped it away from you. After waiting a few seconds for you to cool down, he continued his assault again. It felt like he’s been going at it for hours.

“J-Jun…Yeonjun. Please, please let me cum..!” You cried weakly, hands finding its way to his messy locks again. Lightly pushing his head further, you wanted him to eat you out like a man starved. Make you cum over and over again.

“Are you sure, baby? I could keep doing this for hours, you taste too sweet to pass on.” You shook your head violently, eyes getting teary again from the brutal orgasm denial. All you wanted was your orgasm that had been ripped away from you too many times.

“Please, please…”

“Beg me more, baby. Call my name like it’s the only word you know.” He went back to eating you out. The sound of his wet muscle connecting with your own fluids was embarrassing, yet oddly intoxicating. It turned you on even more.

“Please let me cum… Yeonjun!” As soon as you choked out the name, Yeonjun’s eyes snapped in your direction.

The endearment brought out his animalistic instincts further. Loud slurping noises fill the room once again, just this time even more furiously. His tongue brushed over your clit over and over again, until you finally felt the knot come undone. You weren’t prepared for it to come so fast, a loud moan being ripped from you. Long awaited orgasm washed over your entire body, you saw pure white. Only, white quickly got painted with scarlet when your desire for the man in front of you awakened once again.

Yeonjun kitten licked your pussy, having a taste of you once more. He was addicted to you.

The sinful sight of him made your cheeks flare, and core clench against nothing. Even if it was immediately after cumming, you felt the growing need to have him inside of you.

“Fuck me, Yeonjun. Fuck me until the only word I know is your name.” You spat out, hopefully to hit a nerve and have him claim you the way you’ve always dreamed of. Your eyes went wide when he slammed his hand on the headboard and glared down at you with furious glint in his eyes.

“Don’t order me around, slut. You better use the right word to address me from now on.” You felt your entire body shudder at his words. He was so naturally dominant, the need to submit completely to him growing.

Yet, you couldn’t help but want to provoke him further.

“Or what, you wouldn’t fuck me? We both know you can’t wait another second until you stuff that thick cock into my- Ah!” Yeonjun pulled you closer to him by roughly pulling you on your thighs.

“You’re playing with fire, cumslut. You better be ready for the big words you uttered just now.” When you saw him finally position himself at your glistening wet folds, you felt your body catch fire. You wanted him so bad it was driving you insane.

You knew you could take whatever Yeonjun could give you. As you directly met his burning gaze, you took in the sight of him smirking darkly at your request.

His length was impressive, to say the least. Both length and width exceeded the standards of average, your mouth watering at sight. You were positive that it would hurt like losing your virginity all over again.

Even so, it was Yeonjun. It was with him, so you could take anything. You wanted everything he could give you.

When you looked into his honey hazel eyes again, all you could see was your own fucked-out expression and pure lust dripping from them. They stared at you with such fiery passion, it was addicting.

“Hang on tight, doll.” Your delicate hands were placed on his wide shoulders as you anxiously awaited him to finally slip it inside you. He placed a soft kiss on your forehead gingerly, which took you by surprise.

As he rubs his thick tip on your entrance, you both sharply inhaled with a breathy moan following afterwards. Yeonjun staring at you with such eyes, it felt amazing to be claimed in such intimacy.

He slowly pushed his length inside while hearing your beautiful voice, mesmerized. The thickness caused a sweet burn inside, making you arch your back. Even if it hurt, you didn’t want him to stop.

“Does it hurt? Are you okay?” Yeonjun was undeniably worried at your slightly grimacing expression. That was not what you wanted to hear.

“Stop being a pussy and fuck me like you promised you would, Yeonjun.” You intentionally used his name to piss him off. You knew you were saying this even when he hadn’t bottomed out yet, but you couldn’t help it. The desire to be ruined by Yeonjun was too overwhelming.

He grunted before pushing in all the way without any warning. You yelped, nails digging into his shoulder. The sweet pain of being stretched out by the man you’re in love with was indescribable. When your tight cunt clenched around him, Yeonjun shuddered.

He didn’t wait a single second to go absolutely wild with you. As if unleashing a beast in slumber, his eyes shone in a new light you had never seen before.

“You’re so fucking tight, this pretty cunt is all for me” He sounded like he was talking to himself more as he dragged himself out to the very tip, then slamming it back in. The sound of skin slapping against each other mixed with the air smelling like sex itself, you lost yourself in the moment. Entire body burning with desire, your mouth hung open. You had absolutely zero control over your voice as you freely let out the embarrassingly loud moans spill. Yeonjun’s eyes darkened at the delicious sound, he landed a sharp slap on your inner thigh again. And again. It was sure to bruise by tomorrow.

Yeonjun kept up a rather fast and rough pace, contrary to what you initially imagined it would be. Because of his naturally teasing and laid-back personality, you figured he would fuck that way too. However, right in this moment, you only felt yourself and him fucking like animals in heat. Your neck sinking into his back, you cried out louder. The only thing keeping you sane in this moment was the feeling of his thick cock slipping in and out of you. He was addicting, and he knew it. The higher he took you, the greedier you became.

You had the nerve to scream when you could barely take the current pace. Yeonjun thrusts became faster and rougher, the iron grip on your hips causing darkening spots that would bruise. You were practically sobbing when he started rubbing circles on your clit alongside. Entire body shaking with each thrust, Yeonjun’s eyes were still observing you to find your g-spot.

You hated and loved how observant he was.

In under a minute, he found your sweet spot inside as well. When he noticed your breath hitching louder and body shudder more violently, he knew he hit the jackpot. As he targeted that specific spot, you felt tears rimming your eyes. The high-pitched moans coming uncontrollably out of your open lips were doing a lot of things to Yeonjun. He fucked you exactly the way he promised.

Landing a loud slap on your inner thigh again, he slipped out.

You almost cried and was prepared to beg for it again Contrary to your initial thought, you found yourself being forcefully flipped over to a new position.

“Face down ass up, baby. Hurry up.” You immediately followed his words and sticked your ass against his length again.

Your mind went blank when he slipped his thick cock again into your deliciously tight walls. The new position bringing out newer, vivid sensations, you moaned needily. Yeonjun’s low voice with his breathy moan was sinful- music to your ears.

“Ngh, jun- feels so good-!” You clawed at the bedsheets, wrinkling it up more. Your mind couldn’t focus on anything else other than the sweet sensation of his thick cock filling you to the brim and bringing out moans you didn’t know you could produce. Yeonjun’s mind was also foggy, the feeling of your tight pussy and beautiful voice feeling like a dream.

When he dragged his veiny cock over your sweet spot from behind, you screamed at the feeling. Too embarrassed to hear yourself in such manner, you sunk your head to the pillow below you. Yeonjun immediately noticed you trying to lower your moans.

He landed a sharp spank on your ass this time, leaving a pretty red print behind. You couldn’t help but let your voice out and looked back at him. When he glared at you with those eyes, you knew what he was thinking even without him voicing it out.

“Don’t fucking make me repeat yourself, cumslut. You are mine, let me hear those pretty moans.” You weakly nodded, struggling to stay in position. Every time he slammed into you, you saw red. You had never felt anything like this before.

“I’m going to own this pretty pussy and fill it with my hot cum until you can’t take it anymore.” His dirty talking had you clenching around him immediately. Yeonjun inhaled sharply at the tightening, landing rough spanks here and there. The sweet feeling of being pounded raw filled you with desire, every ounce of you focusing on Yeonjun. Nothing else mattered beside you and him.

“Who is making you moan so loud? Tell me, slut. Who owns this pussy? Who do you belong to? Fuck, such a good girl.” You let out needy moan after moan, the sharp sounds of his hip snapping against yours filled your ears. Yeonjun groaned in an animalistic manner and gripped your hip even tighter with one hand. Slamming forcefully on the headboard, he gripped the wood so tightly it turned white.

“'m a good girl, Yeon-yeonjun owns me-” You were surprised you managed to form a sentence with your mind in such state. The man you’ve harbored feelings for years, pounding you rough and raw from behind. It was still unbelievable. Yet, sparks flying and the addicting feeling of his cock slipping in and out of you had your eyes rolling to the back of your head. You could focus on absolutely nothing than his fat dick filling you up.

Your orgasm was quickly approaching, sensitivity heightened when Yeonjun pulled you by your hair. Yelping in pain, you felt yourself drool. The fast and rough pace he had never slowed down, not even a second. Every time he slipped out, he explored you inside out and hit you in the spots you never even knew you had. When his large hands wrapped your thin neck, the delicious adrenaline rush flowed through your veins. Slightly struggling to breathe, your orgasm heightened even more. It was so close-

“Y-Yeonjun, I’m-!”

“Let go baby, you’re doing so well. Cum on my cock, baby girl.” Almost immediately, you cried out and let go. The feeling of your crashing orgasm driving you crazy, your entire body trembled with oversensitivity. Yeonjun let out a low grunt next to your ear, finally letting go of your neck. You didn’t even have the chance to breathe properly again before he started the cruel pace again immediately after your second orgasm of the night.

“W-Wait Jun- Nhh ah!” You couldn’t form any word with the current state of mind, not when he was drilling into you like there was no tomorrow. You finally remembered he still hadn’t came yet. Gulping, you tried your best to hold on until he came undone. You didn’t even notice the string of saliva slipping down your chin when you were too busy trying to push your ass more towards him. Yeonjun bit down on your shoulder as he desperately tried to hold in the moans as he himself approached his high.

“Come in me, junie. Fill me up with your cum and make me yours, I want all of you so bad, Yeonjun!” You couldn’t help but speak everything you were feeling out loud. The unexpected honesty ignited a new flame inside Yeonjun, causing him to bite down even harder. You were so irresistible, and all his. The wonderful submission you had in your voice was absolutely beautiful.

“Fuck, such a good girl… All mine… You are mine, (y/n). You hear that…?” You grimaced from the pain, but still let out strained moans at the brutal pace he was still keeping. The inability to reply verbally slipped out of your mind again, all you could feel was the veiny cock rubbing against your cushiony walls. Your tear-stained cheeks rubbing against the bedsheets, you finally felt him release inside you with a single loud moan. When he shoot his hot semen inside you, you greedily tightened around him. The feeling of being filled to the brim with his seed set your cheeks on fire.

You whimpered when he pulled out, few drops of cum slipping out of you.

When he struggled to steady his breathing, you collapsed in his arms. Yeonjun looked at you in such loving gaze, you felt your heart hammer against your chest. He was wonderful, you felt yourself falling deeper in love if that was even possible. Yes, love.

Love?

An anxious feeling made your stomach drop now that you regained all your senses. What did this mean?

When you were too busy contemplating what to say, Yeonjun took the initiative.

“Baby, I know this isn’t exactly the right timing to say it, but…” You immediately realized what Yeonjun was about to say. Before you could realize, you had interrupted his speech.

“W-Wait Yeonjun!” His honey eyes immediately snapped towards you, eyebrows ever so slightly furrowing. He looked scared, suddenly. The fear of you not sharing his feelings arose, Yeonjun uncomfortably flinching.

“What’s wrong…? Did I hurt you? Or-”

“I love you, Yeonjun.” Your sudden confession shot an arrow straight through his heart, you could even feel his excitement and relief through his gaze only. But you knew that if you wanted to keep this relationship stable, you needed to voice out the concerns that kept you from confessing all those years.

“But I’m afraid. So afraid. I am afraid because I love you so much, it drives me mad sometimes. We’ve been through pretty much everything, we know each other so well. And I know that I love you more than anything in this world. But if this relationship fails… and we somehow break up… I am not willing to lose our friendship over something like this, Yeonjun. I’m not sure if we should… do this.” Yeonjun’s eyes glistened sadly at your confession. He wasn’t sure how to react while he was listening. As his warm hands lightly rubbed your thighs to help with the soreness, he couldn’t help but panic over your thoughts.

“Baby, I would love it if you didn’t take our relationship so lightly.” You snapped your eyes at Yeonjun, only to meet the most serious he has ever looked as far as you have known him.

“I love you. And you love me back. We are not going to break up. I am going to make you happy, keep you safe and sound, and marry you. I will have cute children with you, and make sure they live happily too. I can promise myself, my whole self-” he put your hand on his chest, where you could feel his beating heart. “-to you.” His eyes were dead serious. He meant every word he said. The heartfelt words had you tearing up immediately. That’s it.

That’s what you’ve wanted to hear all these years. Those words from your other half.

Putting your hand on his cheek, you smiled at the love of your life. You couldn’t believe that this was reality, that you will spend your whole life with him.

“I love you, my baby.”

“I love you too, so much.”

[kupidachillea]

KUPID!! GIVE US MORE TELEMACHUS HCS!! AND MY LIFE!!! IS YOURS!!!!!

Hear me out, Tele boy x reader who stands up for him n stuff ⁉️ she's definitely the fighter of the 2. Probably has had to defend him against antinous before. Maybe?👁

Telemachus x Fem!Reader Hcs (Romantic)

Author note: Thank you for the request! I tried to do this justice. I’m still getting use to writing and all this but I hope you and everyone else enjoys!

Trigger warning ⚠️ : Mentions of fighting (to the best of my ability to write), violence, Antinöus being a jerk, slight mention of blood and broken limbs, but fluff is definitely apart of this.

🕯️- It’s no lie that you love Telemachus, everyone can tell. You both are courting after all. There is nothing that can separate you both. You’re just too tightly knit together.

🏵️- Telemachus loves you dearly too..he sees a future with you. To him, you’re a blessing from the gods..and maybe you are. You’re always standing up for him, taking care of him as if you were the one ‘wearing the pants’ in the relationship.

🕯️- The prince obviously didn’t mind this; and most didn’t bat an eye(not too much anyway).

🏵️-The only person that seemed to give a damn and have problem was Antinöus…He’d tease and taunt Telemachus about how he’s letting a woman do a “Man’s job”. He was always saying how shameful it was for you to be defending the prince and how he could cut you down to size if he so choose.

🕯️- Telemachus didn’t appreciate the other man’s words at all. Often telling him to watch his tone or else. This would make the other male grin and get up in his face- going as far as to grab the prince by his chiton.

🏵️- You happened to walk in on one such encounter and you felt your blood boil at the sight of Antinöus grabbing Telemachus like that.

🕯️-You watched for a few seconds as the prince and Antinöus got into a little fight, clawing at each other and landing blows. Until you finally decided to step in, already having enough of the other man picking on your partner.

🏵️- You didn’t say anything as you grasped the nearest object you hands could get on- in this case a bronze tray, and you took it and hit Antinöus over the head with it.

🕯️- This caused both men to freeze up- but not for long as Antinöus stood to his feet and glared down at you. Clenching his hands into fists as he threatened to sock you right there..and he would’ve if it weren’t for the fact you beat him to it.

🏵️- He cursed loudly and Telemachus’ eyes widened as you shook your hand of the pain. “You disrespectful wench!! I’ll kill you!” He hissed as he felt his nose, blood flowing from it while you chuckled, though your own fist was in pain.

🕯️- Before things got worse- Telemachus had rushed over and made sure you were at a safe distance away from the bleeding man, his eyes filled with anger as he shoved Antinöus. “I don’t ever want to hear you speak about my partner that way again, do you understand?” He didn’t wait fir an answer before having his escorted out of the room..Antinöus giving you both a lingering glare as he cursed under his breath once more.

🕯️~🏵️~🕯️~🏵️~🕯️~🏵️~🕯️~🏵️~🕯️~🏵️~🕯️~🏵️~🕯️~🏵️~🕯️~🏵️~🕯️

🏵️- That afternoon, Telemachus sat with you in his room tending to your hand that clearly got a bit fractured from when you punched Antinöus…

🕯️- He sighed while you sat there with a smile. “I could’ve handled that, y’know?” You told him and he gave you a slight look of doubt..he didn’t doubt your ability it was more so doubting the overall outcome..

🏵️- “I know you could..but still. I had that under control, and now you’re hurt..” He spoke softly, gesturing to your hand that was slight bruised and looking a bit fragile. Your gaze softened and you would rest your head against his shoulder. “It was worth it..for you at least.” You replied, which caused a small smile to form on the prince’s lips.

🕯️- He rolled his eyes before resting his head on yours in response to your previous action of affection. “You always say that…” He mutters and you only nuzzled him in response. Eventually , Telemachus finished up bandaging your injured hand and planted a gentle kiss on your lips.

🏵️- Which you happily returned before pulling away. A bright smile on your face as you both went back to cuddling.

🕯️- To you, Telemachus was worth all the trouble..even if he wasn’t too fond of you getting hurt..you didn’t mind at all.

Author note: Eeee sorry this one took awhile, but I hope you like it. I’m posting this after my birthday lol even though I was working on and off on it during the week. Anyway! I hope you all enjoyed this. Feel free to leave a comment and reblog or even leave a request if your own. I’ll try to get around to them all.

[sunboki]

⎯ CHRISTMAS BLUES a Hwang Hyunjin fiction

🎄 : Hwang Hyunjin x implied! fem. reader

TROPE. enemies to lovers, exes to lovers, reader is a writer, one bed au, forced proximity au, hyunjin is an artist(not mentioned a ton), coincidences

WORD COUNT. 7.3k words ☆ 40 minute read

WARNINGS. cursing, angst galore, mention of sex (non desc.), breakup, hurt feelings, making up, mentions of getting drunk

AUG'S NOTES. this is a stupidly lovestruck hallmark christmas mindset talking, whatever you read below is definitely not me… definitely. anyway, happy holidays to everyone that celebrates! this has been sitting in my drafts for months now, initially planned to be a smau, then a fic!! hope this fic exceeds your expectations, feel free to leave a reblog or comment of your thoughts!

PLAYLIST.

SYNOPSIS. You thought getting a call from Hyunjin was the last thing you needed during the holidays, but when he reminds you of your non-refundable tickets to Paris you had booked seven months prior to your earth-shattering breakup, you realize that his call was the least of your problems.

or alternatively :

Just a week over Christmas with your ex in Paris, what could go wrong?

Every circumstance has a question that goes along with it.

How did I get so lucky? Why did you leave?

As for yours, it’s fairly simple.

Where did we go wrong?

December 18th – Seoul, South Korea.

Holding onto what could’ve been is stupid, you agreed upon that mindset a long time ago. However, the past, Him being the past, lingered around you like the scent of citrus still clinging beneath your fingernails even after washing your hands. Everywhere. He was everywhere. And no matter how hard you tried to erase the memories of what was, they served their memory purpose and disfigured your mind all the same.

And so, you replaced it.

Replaced the hurt, the searing burn, with someone else. Who turned into someone else, and someone else after that till the only thing sufficing any weekly relationship was a no-strings attached notion.

Until you met Seungmin.

He was your vice, the person dragging you out of your self-made hole of false sanctuary and safety. He laid all his flaws on the table, showed himself to you. Seungmin was gentle and kind, he was patient— more patient than anyone else in this world— and loving. Oh so loving.

But behind your undying affection for your boyfriend, he saw something you didn’t. Perhaps in your eyes, perhaps in your soul, bared to him on an onslaught of occasions.

Longing.

He saw longing in your treasured hues, longing for someone that wasn’t him.

Because some scars take longer to fade away, but yours hadn’t even begun to heal. Masked with his many layers of band-aids only to never staunch the cut, the one Hwang Hyunjin left on you.

“Seungmin I’m so sorry—“

“You love him, I know,” He nods his head, a sad, soft smile holding place on his lips.

Tonight was the night he officially talked about it. The unforgivable thought continuing to incessantly plague his mind.

Although, he didn’t regard you sourly for it. That connection you had with Hyunjin was something no other person could return nor deliver, and he had to accept that if he really loved you.

If Seungmin really loved you, he wanted the best for you, even if that meant the best were when you weren’t with him.

You were shocked when he brought up the matter, asked if you really missed him, asked if you still loved him. Yes, you had of course discussed your previous relationship, but never to this extent, never so blatantly.

Though the absolute kindness in both his tone and the way he looked at you, seated at the dinner table, kept you from lying.

It’s not fair. Not fair for Seungmin, your boyfriend, to have to take responsibility for your tormented feelings. But here he is, assuring you nevertheless.

Because he’s known. He knew from the start you weren’t over Hyunjin. Knew that, despite so much ache and anguish he caused, your heart can’t help but beat at his pace, fruitlessly connected.

And he knew in the end things would fall apart just like this, and his spot as a placeholder would fall apart along with it.

That didn’t mean it didn’t hurt though.

“He hurt you, but you love Hwang Hyunjin, I know.” He whispers, fingers tightly twined beneath the table. There’s a sort of hiccuping sound bubbling up from your throat. You stave it down.

“I’m sorry.”

He smiles, smiles when you don’t deny it, reaching forward for your trembling hands to take in his own.

“I want you to be happy, Y/N. I’m not the one you’ll be happy with though.”

A soft squeeze before he rises and curves to where you sit, free-flowing tears threatening to cascade past glossy eyes.

Without hesitation you wrap your arms around him in a hug, chest wracking with unfiltered sobs. Guilty. Guilt is devouring your soul. You don’t deserve Seungmin, nor does he deserve to be hurt so cruelly by someone he loves. But here you are, ruining him.

He’d never admit it, but the pain in his eyes—the ones you’ve stared at countless times—will always remain evident. No amount of smiling or laughing can hide that.

Pulling back while your arms stayed hooked upon his shoulders, you savor the kiss he places on your lips, the ones he delicately pressed to each of your wrists.

Sad. It’s a sad kiss. A kiss that causes your entire body to wilt against him, crashing deeper and deeper into his warmth, his comfort. He’s not false, he’s real. A real, unadulterated love you’re undeserving of.

Guilty.

“If you’re happy,” He breathes, leaning in to land gentle pecks all over your face, forehead connecting with your own. “I’ll be okay.”

December 20th – Seoul, South Korea.

Your room is still exactly as it has been. Pillows faced the same way, sheets still tousled and hanging halfway off the bed. Hell, he hasn’t even touched the blinds — staying open throughout countless nights, your perfume lingering.

Like he was afraid his touch would break apart what he had left of you.

He hopes, swallowing down the remainder of wine in his glass, you’ll be able to look back and laugh at what used to be, find the matter childish and ridiculous.

What you used to be.

Lovers.

Not kids anymore, you taught him once before. You also taught him how deep a love could be. There’d always be a space for you here, just as you left it. Although, he doubts you’d come back. In fact, you’ve probably moved on with your life. Found someone else to fill the space he did.

But maybe, if he keeps the room as it was for long enough, your room; if Hyunjin keeps those tiny paper notes you wrote for him long enough, you would come back.

What a lie.

Wishful thinking takes you far then drops you into festering despair over and over, he’s learned this the hard way.

Starting with a text.

He blinked once, then twice, then three times—picking apart his brain in order to recollect anything, any details whatsoever that could decipher this random message on a Monday morning.

Paris.

Paris?

Paris.

It hits him, evidently.

Immediately clutching his head and simultaneously slapping an aghast hand over his mouth, a sensation recognizable as utmost horror obliterates his soul into pieces, quite literally rocking his world.

Months ago, he remembered.

You’d been stupid, you’d been drunk, and impulsively booked the tickets, laughing off the “no refunds” reminder as if nothing would’ve ever happened.

It did though. And now he’s dealing with the karma in return for that idiotic decision. Soon enough you both will.

Non refundable tickets to Paris, two days from now, together.

What were the chances?

Blindly tapping his password into his phone, he (just as blindly) jams his finger to the first caller he sees, who turns out to be Minho, seeming like both a blessing and a curse in unison.

Never before had Hyunjin so clearly lost his mind and control of his words, but there’s always a first time for everything, right?

“Minho, what the hell am I supposed to do? She hates me and the flight is booked two days from now. This is just.. Fuck!” Hyunjin pours, slamming his hands against the steering wheel, burying his head into the leather as if that would magically make his endless desperation disappear.

He didn’t usually curse, so when he did, whatever had happened was serious. He carried his words elegantly, proficiently.

He'd be the last picked candidate for elegance right about now.

“If I were Chan I would’ve said you should still try talking to her about it, but in my opinion that wouldn’t change a thing. So suck it up Hwang, it can’t be that bad.”

Ah. Remind me why I ever decided to call you hoping for advice.

‘Hwang’ was the name his friend had reserved for him, coming from a long line of tissues in the mouth and other ways Minho would pick fun at the blonde. But he was at least trying to help, somewhat.

How he got himself into this situation is honestly laughable, situation being your nasty breakup and a plane to Paris.

Great. Paris is great, right? Wrong.

Because this stupid, stupid trip to Paris isn’t one he’s going on alone to enjoy the sights and delicacies there, it’s one with you, the girl who ripped his heart in half two months ago. The trip you’d planned while you were still head-over-heels, not hating his guts.

Oh, and your tickets were nonrefundable. Couldn’t forget about that part.

“.. What am I gonna do?”

“Suck it up, duh.”

“And please enlighten me on how the hell I'm supposed to ‘suck it up’ in a plane seat right next to her for thirteen hours and spend every day glued to the hip, your honor.”

The mental picture of Minho’s fraud-innocent face through the line grated his nerves like nothing else. Brows lifted, mouth slightly open. He wanted to punch that imaginary face so badly right now.

"Then follow Chan’s tutorial on making it up to your now-ex. You asked me for my opinion, and you got it. Look, all I’m saying is this is a good chance to get some level ground between you two, even if you still fly back hating each other—"

“I don’t hate her,” Hyunjin quickly quips.

Honestly, truthfully, he doesn’t hate you, he can’t hate you and he doubts he ever will. You were the one responsible for years upon years of the best moments of his life, how could he hate you for that?

Although, by the way you looked at him that night, he doubts your response would be the same.

Minho sighs.

"Even better, you could fly back with her hating you slightly less."

For once the snarky man he was spilling his problems to had provided decent reason, it was terrifying.

From a spectators point of view, his utter fit had to be quite a sight. For the record, witnessing thee calm and collected Hwang Hyunjin go insane in his car wasn’t a sight you’d see on a regular day.

But today wasn’t a regular day. Instead, it was the day he found himself trapped in a loophole of love and war with his ex.

What were the chances?

There’s no book that could wholly describe Hyunjin.

Even as a writer yourself, not even Shakespeare could depict him to the full extent. He’s flawless but so flawed, kind and yet malicious in terms of his brilliantly unfair beauty.

Every day you run into Hwang Hyunjin. The first few times, you called it coincidence, told yourself his meeting happened to be at the same time, maybe he was headed to a neighboring coffee shop.

Well, before those few days turned into every day on your commute.

And when a breakup is as nasty as yours was, it’s not too refreshing constantly seeing your ex on the daily afterward.

Today, Hwang Hyunjin is wearing a tan trench coat that reaches down to his knees. He’s wearing the same tennis shoes as always (except his usual camera is absent from the picture), and his hair is pulled up, soft, sandy strands framing either side of his face. He stands on the other side of the crosswalk, occupied with his phone while you internally ridicule him.

Staring daggers into his frame, the frigidly cold beverage in hand doesn’t aid in warming up chilling temperatures burning your fingertips, signs of winter’s impending approach.

He looks up.

You avert your gaze to your shoes. You can feel his eyes on you; feel them traveling over your body, then to your face, boring into your skull. He’s waiting, watching.

And somehow, you know you’ll eventually have to make eye contact. Because on your normal route, your turn left on Harrison street, then right on Fords. He’s there. Unbelievably, wildly, he’s there.

It’s the one factor in your (almost) perfect life without him that makes things hell.

Back then, you were like clockwork. Not a minute going by without someone being awake. You taking a nap after spending two hours searching synonyms on Thesaurus, Hyunjin just waking up, heading out with his signature Canon camera loosely hung around his neck.

Two perfect oppositions leaving their cluttered love scattered all over a cheap apartment.

For Hyunjin, it was the mug you’d gotten him last christmas labeled in bold font: “ART WHORE”, while yours was an equally degrading “SHE WOULD RATHER FUCK THE MEN IN HER BOOKS” sticker print slapped on the back of your laptop.

Little did you know you’d be desperately scraping the sticker off seven months later, that you’d leave your chapter unfinished since breaking up and that he had likely thrown away that mug.

Or maybe not. Maybe he painted over it, scribbled it out and somehow made it look good. Hyunjin has a way of making anything catastrophic look pretty.

You, on the other hand, are an erupting volcano. One that cries its lava onto the earth and doesn’t leave a pretty photograph. One that froths and rumbles, and destroys things as it goes.

Perfect opposites, exactly.

Now for the real question, the monumental “where did we go wrong” part that served as an explanation.

Three little words.

I love you.

You lied.

Those are big words, big words for somebody. Big words for yourself, words you spoke to Hwang Hyunjin, looped in his apartment, making love on the couch.

Big words he didn’t return.

Big words that kept your heart stilled in your chest, left your lips blue, drowned as you collected your discarded clothes off the floor.

And you left.

You didn’t need the awkward silence, the “let me think about it”, the bullshit they spouted Kissing-Booth-style. You needed him, his reassurance when you were your most vulnerable. His three words that told you your three years together weren’t one sided, not wordlessly confessed through actions though too scared to say aloud – a feared incantation.

Words he never said. Because you did love Hwang Hyunjin, so much it consumed you into his favorite muse, him your inspiration. Then came the doubt. The recollection of your favorite, dearest moments. Was it all a lie?

Those hour-long seconds, tangled on his sofa, kept that incessant anxiety alive.

You thought you found the one when your drunk night didn’t turn into an orgasm you can’t remember, but rather being coaxed into a warm shower despite your complaining about your pants being too tight.

Somehow, you can still feel his tender kisses like a ghost of a presence, littering the skin of your shoulder instead of the sloppy alcohol ridden ones you’d known before, and for once you had woken up beside the person responsible — not to a note saying they had to leave early.

He was the one responsible for teaching you how to paint, propping you in his lap, hand guiding your own while tracing careful strokes on the canvas. It was hardly possible sitting on his stool together, though neither of you noticed (nor cared), too busy savoring the intimacy of the moment.

That was Hyunjin. He was the glass of water placed in front of you after one too many at happy hour. He was the relaxing bath when everything hurt, the shoulder to cry on.

But you were mistaken. He wasn’t the one. Seungmin was the one, the one you had left behind only to chase after a toxic remedy.

In fact, Hyunjin never was the one.

And it fucking hurt remembering that.

December 21st - 22nd – Seoul, South Korea.

The last news you’d anticipated slammed into you like a bus.

Cozied up at your desk, a number pops up on your screen, interrupting the one moment of silence you managed to enjoy. Most people didn’t call during your work hours, except Seungmin, who, for the record, called before work.

The number you’d memorized by heart was not normal either.

Him.

“Before you curse at me,” He begins, and your hand hesitantly hovers over the call button, jaw clenched beyond reason, silence shouting loud. No strength in your bones allowed you to reply. Was it fear, hatred? Both most likely.

Taking the time to continue, his silky tone lulls along the line.

“Do you remember the tickets?”

Hatred seemed the dominant factor.

“What are you talking about?” You rhetorically snap, obviously annoyed albeit confused.

Tickets? It’s been three months, why the hell are tickets the first thing he’s mentioning?

He sighs. “The tickets to Paris. You remember, don't you?”

It takes you a moment, then, aha.

How could you forget? The tip of the iceberg of what two naive, lovestruck idiots thought would be forever. Little did they know everything would slip past their fingertips.

”Well um, did you know they’re non-refundable?”

Huh.

“WHAT?!”

You’d just managed to convince yourself free of Hyunjin, but he simply dragged you further into his labyrinth.

Or so you thought.

You had grown since he broke you (with the help of your better-ex, Seungmin). You evolved better (or so you told yourself). So out of the plentiful lessons you’d learned during your reflection, the factor that stuck with you most was that nobody is there to pick up for you. No matter how much you think they will.

You swore yourself into the belief Hyunjin would mend you, but you lived blind to the truth that he was just as broken as you were, a dog chasing its tail.

And so, you dealt with it.

In ways.

Whether that was incessantly talking to yourself, fanatically checking the date, contacting Felix on the verge of tears for him to laugh and then attempt at consoling your doom, or googling the best ways to run away from your predicament, fate had it out for you.

A disgustingly impertinent, unfairly fair fate.

Packing wasn’t all too stressful, unless you count trying on an entire entourage of outfits descending from dinner to snow-attire, then focusing on simple.

And it really shouldn’t have been so awful getting into your car, nonetheless waking up to realize today was the dreaded day, but it was, and you seriously deserved an award for the amount of times you checked your clock.

Although, you at least expected to have a little bit of time before having to face him again. Talking and interacting, not just drilling holes into his head. Little bit of time as in, a few years at least.

You were wrong.

Not the first time that’s happened.

“Hi Hyunjin.”

Answering his awaiting call with unsteady pitch, your eyes immediately gravitate to the blond-haired man. Taller in stature, leaning against a nearby pillar by your gate, staring directly at you.

Never had it felt so terrifying.

“Hey.”

You hesitate, never breaking eye contact with the man you’re speaking to a few meters away.

“Are we…Are we doing this again?”

He’s solemn. He’s not the same. Different.

“I don’t know. You decide for me.”

Never for a second does your gaze stray to his lips that barely move as he utters the line. Not the same either.

Before, you’d always been mesmerized by his lips. Then he’d notice and tease you prior to delivering the long-awaited kiss, again and again till you were breathless and your head became dizzy.

But this wasn't before; this is now, filled with grudges and sourness.

“You know I can’t make big decisions.”

That isn’t him. Isn’t the Hyunjin who would always provide endless tips and support, opinions unable to be held back without duct tape.

“Because you don’t want to get hurt knowing we chose this?” He whispers, and you tug your bottom lip between your teeth hard enough to bleed.

“Because I want better for us.”

“Y/n,” He sadly laughs, and your name rolling off his tongue sends an ache clawing your chest. It’s humorless, bitter in his throat.

“There is no us, only you and me, remember? So who do you want better for?”

There’s no twinkle in his eyes or his charming smile, it’s dry and painful, like he’d been crying.

You don’t want to think about that.

“Tell me something, okay?” Holding your phone to your ear with an iron grip, you slowly inhale through your nose, sparing a fleeting glance to the floor.

“Anything.”

“If I cry, will you hug me?”

“Do you want that?”

Question after question. He reaches in further, ripping out pieces of your soul with each inquiry. Stupid, sure. But genuine, all the way from the shrouded depths of your mind did you ask.

Of course you want that, want what’s so bad for you. No strength can make you admit it.

He knows the answer.

You hang up the call, fiddling around with your suitcase prior to wheeling the blundering thing over and ensuring you find a comfy spot out of Hyunjin’s sight.

Only five minutes of talking and you already feel as if your body is splintering into little pieces he’ll arrange into the perfect puzzle, ideal and pleasing.

He won’t. Not anymore he won’t.

And in that stead you’ll remain shattered.

What a shame.

Now boarding Group Five. All passengers in Group Five are welcome to board.

The hailing announcement earns a muffled groan through your mask, begrudgingly rising to your feet while directing your attention solely upon the bridge and your tightly held boarding pass. Luckily, Incheon International Airport isn’t half as hectic as you anticipated, but you have a gnawing feeling Paris will have a lot more to say.

Truth be told, you thank every lesson on task focus you once deemed useless as you shuffle among Paris-goers to find your seat.

One that obviously had to be right by Hwang Hyunjin.

“How’s you and Seungmin?” He fixes the length of his headphones, sparing a quick look at you while speaking. You despise how easy he treats this, how easy he’s treating everything at the moment.

Unfortunately, booking this hell-on-earth back when either of you were in your demented fantasy-land meant sitting beside each other also, in assigned seats.

Cupid really needs to give up by now.

You grunt beside him, uttering a hushed, “We broke up.”

Tilting his head, Hyunjin presses his face closer, craning. Close enough that you hold your phone up as a barrier, shrinking away nearer to the window.

“…Who broke up with who?”

Asshole.

Sighing boisterously, you shove in your own earbuds, rolling your eyes. Hyunjin, cocking a brow, dejectedly slouched back. Although he doesn’t ask any more questions, and you successfully get through your first three hours in silence.

Well, prior to the flight attendant strolling by with her cart, mandatorily beckoning orders from each row.

Wheeling her cart over where your seats are, Hyunjin takes a ginger ale and the customary pretzels they hand out. So when she gets to you and you order a Sprite, the man to your right’s head snaps to you, giving you quite an incredulous cock of his brow.

“No ginger ale?”

You wrinkle your nose.

“I don’t like it,” Biting back, you interrupt him upon accepting the canned soft drink, expression bitter and unwavering.

“You always got it when you were with me” or “Wasn’t it your favorite” was what you expected to come out of his mouth, positively obliterating any ounce of peace of mind remaining inside your rattling skull. You weren’t about to sit another seven hours sulking about something your ex said.

The ex you were very much over.

Right.

Your new goal? Avoid genuine conversation for as long as possible, at least on this flight.

So, given the chance to be deep in thought, you came to a conclusion.

You were clockwork, just like before. Except now instead of just equaling the time of day, he was the hour hand and you were the minute hand, always chasing after one another only to briefly touch and start all over again in an endless cycle of time.

Although the rockier the air gets and the more your grip squeezes the armrest does your initial goal falter, finding his considerate gesture asking if you were alright practically impossible to keep from responding to.

Especially when a huge drop has his hand racing atop yours, both too nervous to truly let go.

Just the circumstances, you blame, as if this plane was the sole cause of your slamming heartbeat.

Bullshit.

Four days and this trip was going to be one for the books for a multitude of reasons, that’s for sure.

Let’s just hope you can land first.

December 23nd – Paris, France.

His assuring hold on your hand guiding you through the bustling crowds of visitors and locals storming Charles de Gaulle Airport gives you this disgusting nostalgia, festering in your gut the longer you focus on his dark head of hair in front of you, kind, magnificent almond eyes flickering back to catch sight of you time and time again — like you’d magically sift from his grasp.

It’s a miracle you managed to hit ground in one piece, nevertheless end up with the notorious artist-jerkface named Hyunjin navigating you through an supremely overpopulated airport.

Perhaps it’s the scent of wispy pine or faint cigarette smoke that tinges the atmosphere such a rosy hue, perhaps everyone’s anticipation for the holiday’s. Either way, it certainly doesn’t help fuel your “absolutely NO touchy-feely-ness Hyunjin agenda”.

Well, you had no doubt you’d have to stick to your morals on this trip in the first place, and it’s not like the odds were supposed to work in your favor. Although, a little assistance would‘ve been nice.

Guess you’ll just have to make due.

Lovely.

“Thank you!” You shout, forcing your voice to sound chipper speaking to the Cab Driver (opposing the twenty-two hours of traveling you managed to survive through). Except now, you didn’t know what to do nor what to say standing outside the hotel entrance, especially not when Hwang Hyunjin was going to be biting your ass for the next few days.

Much to your luck though, it seemed he was just as clueless as you, both prioritizing just checking into your room first and foremost.

Thankfully, the sights are a wondrous source of distraction, and you devise a plan to go walking more often than not (and not just to avoid Hyunjin). Each building appears as if it’d been expertly carved from stone, historically aged beige, awnings titled a bottomless array of Grand Seiko and Jaeger-LeCoultre.

To add, huge paneled windows are placed in each room, allowing a breathtaking view of the city as evening dawns. Whether it’s a quaint bakery hitched right below a bookstore or the bell tower seated comfortably in the middle of a square—you could never get bored.

Seems your interest tore you away from an unwelcomed reality until Hyunjin cleared his throat, thick eyebrows raised questionably.

“..We could go ice-skating?” He offers, index pointing to the huge rink a few blocks to the left.

You don’t have to speak for him to know your response, unzipping your suitcase to gather a new change of clothes without a word.

“Look, I know you want nothing to do with me, but I doubt either of us will ever have enough money to come to Paris again, so just, do it for the experience, not for me.”

That’s it.

“For you? You think I’m doing this for you? Are you really that conceited to think I’m still catering to you, Hyunjin? I’ve changed whether you like it or not, and I’m not the girl that’s willing anymore,” You toss your clothing to the side, giving him a downright venomous stare. Loathing. “I’m not yours anymore.”

“In fact,” Spitting poison, you stab your index to his chest, causing him to back up the more you advance forward. “You don’t know shit about me.”

He appears torn. His nose scrunches, and his lips form a squabbled line upon his face, evidently troubled.

Somehow, those actions that normally earned your sympathy only reared your deftly oiled gears more, angrily roaring without fail.

“Because if you did, we wouldn’t be like this.”

Gesturing around, you retreat back a few steps, arms slapping your sides irritably. Meanwhile, the tall man remains silent, attention magnetically directed down at his shoes. And for a swift moment, mere seconds, you feel sorry — apologetic even.

It makes you sick to your stomach.

You exhale. “I’ll go, and not for you. Understood?”

Hyunjin doesn’t reply, biting his cheek as he watches you disappear into another room.

You thank the refreshing scent of peppermint for its momentary relief upon entering the bathroom, practically drenching your face in ice cold water over and over as if it’d clear your head.

For you; you’re doing this for you, nobody else, you remind yourself, prepping a washcloth and your toiletries whilst praying the warm shower water eases your blaring jet-lag.

Yet, you didn’t expect a visitor to suddenly pop in while you were mid-shampoo, and it seemed he didn’t expect it either.

You swore the prolonged eye-contact went on for centuries, absolute terror embracing every aspect of your face through the clear shower door.

“Fuck! Get out!”

Scurrying like a character off a cartoon, Hyunjin manages – through spilling apologies – to blindly ram himself into the door, hands gripping his skull.

Suddenly, he pauses, hesitating.

“Wait but I’ve seen you naked befo–”

“GET OUT!” You scream.

“Okay! Okay.” He hurriedly slips out, leaving you to rethink every decision made with his name involved. A recurring thought at this point.

And with that, you quickly accept that your jet lag isn’t even close to gone and likely won’t be as long as the artist sharing your hotel room is within a six-foot radius.

Oh, and you don’t know shit about ice-skating.

Of course, Hyunjin is a natural on ice. He glides like a snow spirit, freer than ever. Meanwhile, your nails are embedded into your vice of a railing, knees shakily attempting at balancing with little success.

He’s the princess, and you’re the frog. It’s decided. Walking while you crawled, running while you walked. A step ahead that was at some point motivating, now plain humiliating.

The ice rink is jam-packed, citizens and tourists alike savoring the crisp winter, the faded twinkling of lights glittering in the distance.

“C’mon, just one?”

You, clawing the icy edge, confusedly avert your focus to where the voice came from.

It’s Hyunjin, gesturing to his camera while you piece together his request before childishly whining your despair. He lifts his toboggan upward, a few endearing tufts of golden peering out to hang over crescent moon eyes, evidently smiling.

Leave it to this man to test your sanity. How could anybody say no when he looked that cute.

“Fine, one.”

Not like I could run off anyway, you mentally consider, finding the fact your legs are quite literally flailing as a good enough sign to give in.

“Yes!” He chirped happily, hurriedly fiddling with his camera.

Watching him with that kind of expression, you witness your Hyunjin again, fumbling around, so excited about the smallest of things.

It hurts.

“I..” He trails off, voice barely audible whilst winking to see through the lense. “Don’t want to miss a moment of you.”

“What was that?”

The camera flashes, and you wonder if you heard him correctly.

“Oh nothing.” His lips curl into a sheepish grin, easing toward you and unexpectedly prying your hand into his own, involuntarily pulling you along.

Panickedly, you clutch onto any article of clothing available (another goodbye to your no-touchy-feely-ness Hyunjin agenda) similar to the handrails, squeezing your eyes shut while painfully awaiting a harsh slam against rock-hard ice.

A harsh slam that never happens.

You cautiously open an eye.

“One, two, one, two.” He counts steadily, soaring across the ice, unable to contain the huge beam the longer he watches you. Captivating.

You fight the urge to smile, the sensation of wind whipping your hair and his warm, reminiscent touch setting your nerves into a dopamine frenzy, making the routinely frown much harder than need be.

Nevertheless, perhaps staying in Hyunjin’s grasp would’ve been the safer option. Because with confidence comes failure (at least in your book of life), and your knees would’ve definitely appreciated not getting ruined.

“Are you alright?” Hyunjin murmurs, sympathetically regarding your black and blue frame, looking worse for wear, skates in hand.

“Amputation has never sounded more tempting,” Grumbling, you hobble to return your skates, the man tailing behind you choking back his giggle, kindly waiting in case you stumble.

From the way things are going, the probability is high. Except, Hyunjin walks on eggshells, worried you might rip his head off in the case he asked the question sitting tentatively on the tip of his tongue.

Keeping himself contained had never been as unbearable as when with you, constantly having to refrain from wrapping your precious self into his arms, witness those warm, beautiful hues blinking at him like globes.

Five minutes into the walk back and your near-face-plant-turned-catastrophe was his last straw.

“Can I at least carry you?”

Your head snapping back was almost comical, ogling at Hyunjin as if he told you he’d been neutered or something.

Insane. He’s officially gone insane.

So have you, apparently. Because after getting all too familiar with the icy side walk for a fifth time, you give in, stifling your thoughts from erupting out of your skull—feeling like your entire earth was slowing down on its axis when he easily swept you off your feet.

Cute, hell, romantic too, until you arrive back at the hotel and the curious looks sent your way have your cheeks burning.

“This is so embarrassing.” You whine, burying your face in your hands. Of course, Hyunjin just laughs.

You missed his laugh.

And he cares for you that night, transporting you from room to room in his arms despite your complaints you could do so yourself (although you secretly preferred it, and no, not because it was Hyunjin, only because of how bruised your legs were).

Plus, the mental exhaustion was practically debilitating, sleep beckoning you into its cozy embrace as the clock ticked on the wall. The man before you knelt in front of where you sat on the side of the bed, gently applying antiseptic to your cuts while you blanked in and out of consciousness.

Any common sense had completely abandoned you. Certainly, since you hadn’t noticed only one bed sat dead center in the room. Nor had you noticed through your half-asleep eyes how sweetly he maneuvered you around, pulling the comforter snug over your body.

His hand strays, wistfully smoothing some hair from off your eyebrow.

“I’m sorry,” He whispers, gathering spare pillows and blankets.

He’ll sleep on the floor.

December 24th – Paris, France.

Apparently, there was much more to this Paris dilemma than just the “going to Paris” part (excluding, y’know, the havoc that’s occurred over the past three days).

This fantastic surprise came in the form of a booked Louvre Museum date, now a bit more like a punishment with your current state of soreness merely rising up from bed. And, in turn, seeing Hyunjin sawing logs on the floor below, an action you were inaudibly grateful for.

You two are a different kind of romantic if that’s what you want to call it, especially when Hyunjin practically barricades the bathroom door, nonsensically shouting that he won’t make the same mistake of walking in ever again.

Sweet gesture, but it gets a tad bit irritating when you have to basically charge the door in order to move the chair situated behind it, making you doubt if it was to keep Hyunjin himself out or keeping you in instead.

Yeah. Different kind of romantic. Exes kind of romantic.

Once 5pm rolls around, you’re already dressed and ready to leave, trying your darndest to pretend you’re doing something on your phone to evade conversation. A middle school move, though your ego is on the brink of becoming extinct anyway.

Seems the final act is when Hyunjin steps out of the bathroom, wearing that tan trench coat he always did.

He notices you analyzing, stifling a very tempting smirk.

“I thought you’d like this jacket. Y’know, since you stared at it all the time.”

With a sentence you watched your endangered ego obliterate in real time, embarrassment swallowing you whole. The cycle is neverending.

Thankfully, at least one factor in your unsolvable equation proves itself useful, the factor being your already purchased tickets, granting an earlier entrance into what felt to be a new world.

A new world you recognized as Hyunjin’s world. Vast, expansive. A place you can get lost in and be okay with. Stories hidden behind gold-rimmed frames, so much to tell if only you’d listen.

He lingers by the Psyche and Cupid sculpture longer than usual. Briefly, he told you about them many moons ago. Their love awakening from something much more tragic, apocalyptical.

What a coincidence.

You spend what feels to be days in there, daylight from the lengthy windows overhead falling dark by the time you’re finished. The temperature dropped exponentially while you explored, ignorant to the frigid conditions till realizing you still had your trek back.

Curse the taxi service for not running twenty-four hours.

“You grew your hair out.” You comment, but it’s not really a comment, more like an observation you already knew and felt the need to point out for some odd reason. The awkward silence is suffocating enough.

Granted, you’d known his hair had grown. You saw him every day coming to and fro from work, so any adjustments he made you saw, some of which you remember loving oh so much.

This adjustment was his hair.

Hyunjin’s lips quirk ever so slightly, fingers straying up to tousle a strand.

“You used to love it when I grew it out.”

He continues to walk ahead, ignoring how you had stalled behind, numb grip desperately clutching your puffer jacket as if it’d magically allow you inhalations.

“You would tie it up for me, and stick my paintbrushes in the bun.”

This time, he spins around, seemingly unaffected by your (both literally and figuratively) frozen finger that simply blinks at him — robotic-like.

Like Hyunjin is a stranger. Like your Hyunjin, the old one you were mad for, is now a stranger.

“And I,” He sniffs in, his exhale causing a cloud of air to comprise in its stead. “Really wanted to marry you.”

There’s your breaking point.

He’s pulled you thread by thread closer to an unthinkable free fall, a freezing free fall. Unfurling your strings of yarn to no point of repair. So as you teeter on the edge, your defense mechanisms kick in. And before you can logically consider your options, you smack him.

Right. Across. The face.

He’s stunned, you don’t blame him for that, but there’s also a crinkle in his brows, a look of utmost hurt beginning to stain any somber expression left.

“You have no right to say that when you’re the one that caused all of this.” Your volume increases, unaffected by the glances from passerby.

You have no doubt the two of you are quite a scene, though common sense had long abandoned you, and no thought but fiery rage curls around you, tendrils alight.

“Why the hell did you want to marry me if you can’t even love me? Quit hurting and confusing me Hyunjin, I can’t keep doing this.” Practically pleading, he pulls his palm from where it babied his cheek, instead retreating to your wrists, keeping you in front of him.

“Listen.”

“No!” You screech, trying your hardest to escape.

“Listen.”

You pause, gingerly allowing him to adjust the scarf over your pink nose and ensure your gloves trap warmth for your fingers.

He bites his lip, gaze dancing across your features.

“I love you.”

You shakily exhale, wishing everything would just stop. Time would simply diminish into nothing but stillness, easiness.

Your anguish and anger was easy, and staying mad was a whole lot easier than this—confronting the pains of meeting him again, nonetheless this trip.

He’s finding the pieces to your puzzle.

You want to hide.

Worst of all? Especially hearing him say the words that ended you two months prior.

Cruel.

“I loved you,” His voice wavers. “More than anything, Y/n. And I still do. But when you said that, I got scared.”

He shakily inhales, the grip on you lessening a bit.

“Because when I say I love you back, that means I have someone to lose.”

It’s hypocritical, you know.

Hell, you know what it’s like to be a hypocrite more than anything right now. From hearing the godforsaken news to sitting in an airplane together after wholeheartedly promising yourself you’d never let him have you once more.

Yet here you were, dragging him by his collar into a kiss.

He kisses you back, like an idiot, childishly grasping his clothing-cladden frame against your face and savoring the small bit of heat huddled between where your lips meet.

His trench-coat, you remember, despite so many adjustments, is the same as usual, and it’s almost comforting to find he smells the same as well—floral, with hints of jasmine (mainly thanks to his favorite perfume). You remember that too.

Guess some things never change.

Perhaps he kept that mug after all, drank from it every day like he used to.

And perhaps, right now, he’s wishing back all the time you’ve spent apart, just like you are. Wishing you would’ve just talked like mature, capable adults. Figured things out.

Newsflash, you’re not mature adults. You’re two broken lovebirds fighting to find their song after being caged together, searching high and low for the perfect pitch when all you needed was a single note, a single start.

Positioning you where an arm wraps around your back, the other holding your cheek, he dips you as if in a ballroom dance, not kissing beneath a street light.

Everything is pretty in Hyunjin’s presence.

“Hwang Hyunjin,” You whisper, nostrils burning the longer you’re surrounded by snow, falling in hefty sheets at this rate.

He hums into your lips, maneuvering his head to kiss away the chilled tears beginning to froth upon your waterline. And in those moments, you feel so fragile, so weak in his touch.

Almost instinctively, his grip tightens oh so slightly.

“I really don’t want to lose you.”

And he laughs, a muffled laugh that nonetheless causes his shoulders to shake before delving further into your kiss, melting away every bit of anguish you felt, all the hurt and ache. Dissolved into nothingness by his lips.

Figures briefly illuminated by the light of the street lamp, you remain ignorant to the encroaching nightfall, the way the stars seamlessly blend with white snowflakes. Something out of a fairytale.

You’re certain you could’ve stood there forever, all numb and freezing cold.

But in love. So very in love.

For him you would’ve stood there. And the you still in denial without understanding this entire story would’ve died before admitting that.

This time, you’re okay with letting him finish the puzzle, create a song as lovebirds.

“You won’t, I promise,” He traces your cheek with his thumb. “Now let’s get someplace warm, shall we?”

Landing an affectionate peck to your burning red nose, he takes your hand, guiding you through climbing snow toward your hotel, sign reading “Hôtel de Vendôme” glittering in the distance.

In your opinion, however, it was too fleeting. A kiss you hadn’t realized you’d been waiting for until it actually happened, till you pathetically craved it again and again.

Although, that didn’t mean you didn’t enjoy gaining feeling back in your fingers and toes, treasuring the flicker of the fire crackling beneath a brick mantel. A few guests litter the lobby, dishing paper cups of hot chocolate left and right, taking the opportunity the mistletoe hanging above a long forgotten stairwell provides.

Christmas Eve and you’re beside the ex you swore you’d never spend it with, spend any time with generally. So surreal you simply cannot stop thinking about it, enough that you become too distracted to notice the mischievous glint in Hyunjin’s vision.

Well, before he points upward and you notice the dangling mistletoe.

And he kisses you again just like you wanted. Deeper, slower, like separating would cause you to break apart, carving your kiss into his memory for a second time.

Standing there, too lost in him to ever consider anything better than this, you begin to think maybe you’ll be able to finish that stagnant book of yours. Maybe it’ll be about two lovers turned two exes, whose trip to Paris might just have been the cherry on top to hurt feelings and broken love. Because, at the end of their tribulations, Cupid falls in love with Psyche.

And you begin to think—as the clock’s ringing announces midnight has arrived—maybe this Christmas will pass by on a good note.

No, you’re certain of it.

sunboki, may 2022 ©

FIC TAGLIST. @slut4colinbridgerton @armystay89 @shujohajohaminnie @minhosbitterriver @callmedarlingsstuff

[suzukiblu]

Ko-fi thank-you sentences for 🦄 behind the cut; Billy adopts Conner and it actually goes pretty good! (( chrono || non-chrono ))

“Um, yeah,” Billy repeats, shrugging awkwardly. “And–you know, you need sun, right? Like for your powers and stuff so you'll be safer on missions, but also, um–Kryptonians just really like it, I think. Well, okay, I dunno if you know if you like it yet, but Superman definitely does. He spends a lot of time in it. So–windows.” 

Lynn . . . swallows, slowly, and tightens his grip on Tawky a little bit again. Billy wonders if that means he wants a hug. Lynn's still a baby, technically–he might not know how hugging really works in real life, or just not know how to ask for one when he needs one. 

Or just not know he's allowed to ask for one when he needs one. 

Or just wants, obviously. 

“I like it,” Lynn says very, very quietly, and Billy can't help perking up excitedly at hearing that. 

“Awesome!” he blurts, then clears his throat and tries to reel himself in and settle down a little more. “Um–awesome, yeah. Cool. I'm glad.” 

Lynn doesn’t say anything else, but he loosens his grip on Tawky a little. Billy still wonders if he wants a hug, but he really doesn’t know how to tell. 

. . . well, he guesses there’s the obvious option. 

“Hey,” he says, leaning forward a little to peer a little closer at Lynn’s face while trying not to be, like, pushy about it. Lynn’s just hard to read, that’s all, and he doesn’t wanna mess up with him. “Do you want a hug or anything?” 

Lynn’s shoulders immediately stiffen, and Billy represses a wince. 

“You don’t have to,” he puts in quickly. “Just, um–I didn’t know if you knew you could have one? If you ever do? Like–that’s a normal thing to want. And, you know . . . do? And . . . stuff?” 

Billy is very, very bad at this, isn’t he, he realizes, trying not to cringe at how awkward and lame he sounds right now. Like–babies need touched and carried and hugged, and really everybody does, but he definitely could’ve made that offer way less weird-sounding. Just–he really doesn’t trust that Cadmus told Lynn that kind of thing was okay or important or ever would be okay or important, so . . . yeah. So he said it.

Just he said it very, very awkwardly and lamely. 

Lynn is totally never gonna think he’s a cool dad, is he, Billy thinks morosely. He’s gonna think he’s uncool and weird and boring and– 

Lynn . . . hesitates, slightly, and Billy gets distracted from worrying about Lynn deciding he sucks and peers at him again. Lynn looks conflicted, and Billy’s not sure what to say to him. 

“It really is fine if you don’t want one,” he promises finally, because it’s the best idea he’s got. “Just it’s also fine if you do want one, and I kinda, uh, didn’t know if you knew that or not.” 

“. . . okay,” Lynn says, which still isn’t really a helpful answer but is also still better than a lie. Billy can work with noncommittal. Like, he’d much rather do a little extra work to figure out what Lynn’s okay with than accidentally upsetting or hurting him 

Lynn probably doesn’t even know what he’s okay with yet, in a lot of ways. How could he, when everything’s still so new and strange? 

“You could hug Tawky, if you want,” Billy suggests. Lynn’s already been petting him, kinda, so maybe he’s more comfortable with touching him than he is him right now. Which makes sense, really. Tawky is really huggable, and also, like . . . sometimes it’s just less intimidating to hug somebody who looks like a stuffed animal at the time and also isn’t currently a lot bigger than you, Billy knows. Like–that’s definitely been a thing for him, a lot of times. 

. . . honestly, he’s not sure who the last person besides Tawky he even hugged was, come to think of it. Some people hugged him, because they were grateful he’d saved them and all, but–yeah. That’s . . . different, obviously. Not as . . . comforting, or comfortable, or . . . anything like that. 

And if Lynn’s never gotten a hug before–well. Yeah. 

Tawky’s a good start, Billy knows. Like–really good. 

“. . . I don’t know how,” Lynn says, his tone just a little–distant, maybe. Or . . . guarded, maybe. 

“Oh, it’s not hard,” Billy assures him, then picks up one of the throw pillows off the couch and demonstrates, wrapping his arms around it to squeeze a little. “You just wrap your arms around somebody and squeeze, kinda. I mean, you’re gonna have to be careful not to do it too hard with baseline humans and all, but Tawky’s tough!” 

And, well–he’s pretty sure Lynn couldn’t hug him hard enough to hurt him, at least not ‘til he grows up a little more or gets a little more sun in him. But he doesn’t wanna push, so he doesn’t say that.

[pompyoly]

David Shaw Headcannons

David’s canonically bi/ pansexual and had a crush on Asher when he was younger

Darlin and David had a sibling bond and would spend together by themselves at pack meetings or the solstices

David has selective people that he lets touch him in a friendly way

David has pulled Darlin out of fights and always lectured them afterward

David has cologne that smells like the forest, anything that smells like rainwater, trees, or the forest he has a cologne of it

David had an unassigned assigned table at his school for the main 4 pack no matter what grade Darlin was in he’d always make sure that they sat with him if they were alone

David favors Angel's smile over everything he loves everything about them, but their smile is his favorite

David visits Gabe’s grave and talks about Angel often and informs him on things going on in his life(Gabe was the first person he told about his thoughts on marrying angel)

David can’t sleep without Angel next to him, and yes, he will be able to sense when they’re getting out of bed or moving

David got into a few fights growing up whenever someone was bullying Milo for his height

When David was younger, he didn’t talk. Whenever somebody needed comfort he’d be more of a listener

David is the type to hold people tightly to ground them if they are ever having a panic attack

David never cries, and it’s a rare sight when he does

David can’t function without Asher and it’s mutual between them they most definitely sat near each other in school, ate lunch together, and were each other's best men at their weddings

David shifts whenever he cuddles with angel just so that they can pet his fur(his favorite spot is on the side of his face on either side)

David’s rich, but he’s also humble, sure he’ll spend money on whatever Angel wants and not bat an eye, but nobody knows just how rich he is until he buys something expensive

David and the rest of the main 4 would sleep on the couch whenever they had sleepovers because Asher would try to cuddle with him, Milo would follow Asher, and Darlin would just wanna be included

David was anxious when he asked Angel to marry him because he thought they’d reject him

David couldn’t yell at Angel. Even if he tried he’d feel bad the second he raised his voice at them

David has once threatened to kick someone out of the pack that talked shit about angel

Bonus-David wears his dad's old watch. Whether it’s broken or not broken, he doesn’t care and still wears it

David comforts Angel whenever they get jealous of Sweetheart or Tank bc they’re unempowered

David still has nightmares of the inversion and still thinks about how he could’ve lost Asher

Bonus- David is named after his grandfather(don’t ask me how I know I just do)

[miffysrambles]

Hello :) I would like to request! For Sun Wukong, Macaque and Mk X Reader (can be any gender that you prefer to use) And can It be separate please 'w'

And basically the story is that Reader has caught a nasty Cold/Sore Throat and is not doing so well, until the boys come to the rescue and help them out the best they can, and later on they back on their feet again!

Thank you 👍

Wukong, Macaque, and MK WIth a Sick! S/O

Wukong:

Coughs and sniffles filled the air as you lay in your bed, flipping through channels on your television.

You had caught the cold going around since the weather was dropping for the autumn season, even though you were on top of your hygiene.

You were in the middle of a rerun of an old sitcom when your phone rang. Groaning, you reached over to your nightstand and saw your boyfriend Wukong was calling.

You put the call on speaker as you were too mentally and physically exhausted to put it up to your ear, “Hello…?” 

Ew, your voice sounded gross.

“Peaches, you ok? Gods, your voice sounds awful!” Wow, he could’ve at least tried to lie.

“I’m sick Wukong, we can’t spend time together today…” 

“Who says? I could come over and help ya’ feel better!” You could hear him rustling through his hut at the end of the line, meaning he was already on his way over..

“And before you say something like ‘Oh but my generous and oh-so-kind boyfriend Wukong, I don’t want you to get sick either!’ Don’t worry! Immortals barely ever get sick.” 

You laughed softly at his pathetic impression of you, clearly he was joking but you had to admit he was pretty spot on with your concerns.

“If you’re sure hon, I’ll see you in a bit.” Your hoarse voice added a few coughs at the end.

“Oh, I’m definitely sure peaches, see ya’ in a few minutes! I love you, mwwah!” He added loud kissing noises at the end which made you laugh more.

He always knew just how to cheer you up by putting a smile on your face, even if you felt like literal garbage.

After a few agonizing minutes of lying in your sweat-filled state, you heard the window to your bedroom open as your boyfriend sat on the windowsill.

“You coulda just have used the door like a normal person.” You laughed softly, making him roll his eyes with a grin.

“Not as romantic though.” He jumped from your window as he held a pharmacy bag in his hand, setting it down on your nightstand as he put his palm up to your forehead.

“Sheesh, you’re burning up… How ya feeling hon?” His tail thumped against your bed, signaling he was very much worried for you. 

“Like garbage, but a bit better now that you’re here.” You smiled up at him as his hand cupped your cheek, his thumb rubbing circles in a small attempt to help you feel better. 

He reached over to the bag, pulling out some peach-flavored syrup medicine making you raise an eyebrow.

“Peach flavored, really? I didn’t even know they made it in that flavor.” You laughed softly, not even minding the throbbing pain in your throat. 

“Whaaat?! It’s the best flavor and it reminded me of you! Now open wide peaches, here comes the airplane!” He playfully teased you as he poured the medicine into a spoon, pretending it was flying toward your mouth with fake airplane sounds.

You rolled your eyes as you decided to go along with his teasing, opening your mouth as you swallowed the medicine.

Your face scrunched as you hesitantly swallowed the ghastly syrup, “Ugh that is awful!”

Wukong laughed as he smirked, “C’mon you got another spoonful to go!”

“Noooooo!”

Macaque:

Your coughing and sneezing slowly stirred Macaque awake from his deep sleep, rubbing his eyes as he sat up and looked over to see you holding a box of tissues.

“Sick huh?” His voice made you jump as your sickly state didn’t even make you realize he was awake now. 

“O-Oh! Sorry, I didn’t mean to wake you up!” Your hoarse voice made him wince, he could tell by just the way you talked you did NOT feel good.

“Hey hey, it’s ok sweet cheeks. You can’t help it if you’re sick, c’mere.” He wrapped his arms around you and pulled you back down onto the bed, rubbing the back of your head to help ease the throbbing pain.

“But I don’t want to get you sick, I should go home.” You muttered in between sniffles and coughs.

He chuckled softly as he shook his head, his tail wrapping around your waist to keep you close and signaling you weren’t going anywhere anytime soon.

“No can do sugarplum, you’re stuck with me for today. And besides, I’m a demon. We don’t ‘get sick’.” His fingers were tangled in your hair, making the throbbing in the back of your head subside as you sighed in relief and contentment. 

Your head laid against his chest, the room was silent besides the sounds of your clogged sinuses which you really needed right now to help ease your migraine.

“I’m gonna get up and go to the store to get you some medicine, I’ll be right back ok?” Macaque’s low voice spoke into your ear.

You nodded as he let you go and gently laid you back down on his bed, putting on his clothes and using his shadow magic to summon a portal as he fell through it.

A few minutes later he rose out of the floor from the shadows, holding a plastic bag as he sat down next to you on the bed. 

He smiled down at you as you put your head in his lap, his fingers going right back to your hair as he played with the strands with care.

He pulled out a bottle of pills and a water bottle and handed them both to you, “Here you go starshine, I got you everything you needed.”

He also pulled out a washcloth and soaked it in the water, putting it against your forehead to help cool you down.

“Thank you hon…” You were able to breathe out softly as you popped the pill into your mouth and sipped on the water.

“No problem sugar.” His fingers caressed your head, his eyes staring lovingly down at you.

You noticed out of the corner of your eye his wallet on the dresser as you turned your head back up to him, “Macaque, how did you pay for the medicine if your wallet is on the dresser?”

“..Don’t worry about that sweet cheeks.”

MK:

MK was on a noodle run when he noticed one of the orders was for your address, his face beamed as he could use this as an excuse to see you.

Pigsy had worked him to the bone today and luckily yours was the last order of the day so he could take his time seeing you. 

He parked his work scooter in the parking lot of your apartment complex as he walked up to your door, knocking with a pep in his knuckles as he called out to you.

“Heyyy (Name), it’s me! I got your noodles and I wanna see your cute face!”

After a few seconds of waiting, his eyebrow raised as his phone went off in his pocket.

Seeing it was a text from you, he opened it and read it out loud.

“ ‘Come in. There’s a key underneath the mat.’’ Huh, why didn’t they just answer the door?”

He raised the welcome mat and unlocked your door with your spare key, seeing it was completely dark inside as he stepped through the doorway. 

“(Name)? It’s me, where are you?” 

He put the noodles on your kitchen counter as he walked through your small apartment, every single light was off so he used his phone flashlight to work his way through the shadows.

He reached your bedroom and slowly opened the door, peeking his head through as he saw a figure underneath the bedsheets huffing and coughing.

“Oooohhh, that’s why you didn't answer the door.” He walked over as he slowly lifted your covers, seeing your messed up hair and still in your pajamas from the night before. 

You smiled up at him through your miserable state, "Hi hon. Do you have my noodles?”

MK nodded as he retrieved them from the kitchen, sitting down next to you on the bed as he smiled.

“Here, let me feed them to you. The perk of being sick is your boyfriend gets to do everything for you!” 

You smiled as he opened the container, the warm broth filling the air as you sighed in contentment, opening your mouth as he brought the chopsticks to your lips.

He continued to feed the noodles to you, eventually getting down to just the broth as he handed the bowl to you, “Here drink this, the broth helps when your throat is sore. It helped me when I was sick when Pigsy brought me a bowl.”

You brought the bowl up to your lips and sipped on the warm liquid, sighing as you laid your head on his shoulder.

“Thanks for bringing them to me, let me get you your money.”

He laughed as he wrapped an arm around you, shaking his head.

“Don’t worry about it sweetie, It’s on me tonight. You just work on feeling better.”

[fairykazu]

is he a dog or a cat? with childe masterlist ++ cw: this is f!reader but can be read as gn, crushing && requited feelings.

the way he trailed behind you like a lost puppy during lunch; it almost made you feel pity for him. key word, almost. whatever he tried to pull during english today wasn't cool but you didn't mind it. but the way, he's acting behind you, he instantly regretted it.

but if you think about it, childe’s like a dog, fiercely loyal to the bone and willing to do anything to prove himself. he’s kind of stupid, not in a bad way of course. it’s just sometimes he acts without thinking, swinging his fists instead of using words as a weapon. other times he’s more akin to an orange cat with the way he acts, it’s like he turns off his brain whenever he hangs out with you. 

you remember when you two were playing a game of hide and seek, in your defense, he started it! he bet he could’ve found you within a minute. could he? yes, but that’s beside the point, he attacked your honor! you juked him by running to a fork, throwing a rock at a dead end and running in the opposite direction. when he reached the forked alleyway, he heard the rock in the other side, running at the speed of light. then he knocked his head against the dead end. but did you win? 

yes, that’s the most important part (an obvious lie).

…childe was fine after he hit his head of course, after you rushed towards him, helping him up. he sat on the cement floors as you circle around him with questions, checking if he was bleeding. “ajax, are you okay?” 

he was smiling like a cheeky dog, basking in the attention you gave him. if food wasn't something he'd consume, affection would definitely be his go-to. “of course, i am when you’re with me.” 

he chuckled as you rolled your eyes, punching him playfully in the arms, "okay, from that reaction, you seem to be in good shape to me."

he let out a gasp. he fixed up his attitude, immediately switching his personality from being cheeky to being solemn, tearful even. "oh, name! my forehead hurts so bad."

you tilted your head, well, it's better to play along with his antics than to ignore them. otherwise, he'd keep it up. "oh no." you dryly replied, "do you need a kiss for your boo-boo?"

childe looked up in your direction, breaking his character a bit. he was stuttering out, his freckled cheeks flustered, "really?" he cleared his throat. "i mean, ahem, i believe thats the best way for me to heal."

"really?"

it was clear that childe wouldn't believe that you would go with the kiss. but as always, he knew if he riled you up enough, bruise your ego to prove him wrong, it could happen.

maybe... well, he hopes. "...yepp!"

“if you say so, ajax.” 

he was flustered to the point his neck reddened, he didnt think it would be this easy. you leaned in close and he squeezed his eyes. but it wasn’t even a kiss, just a brief press against his skin but still he stumbled around his words, “thank you… that would surely, i mean, i know that confidently that would certainly– i mean, i know that would make me heal.” 

he’s trying to play it off as cool but internally, he knew he fumbled so bad. who says that? 

“uh-huh, c’mere, let me take you to the nurse.” 

“oh okay!” 

huh… well, he’s kind of a mix of those animals. but how do you describe that? would he be that one show, dog-cat or cat-dog?  youve seen him in a different light before but he rarely shows you what that side looks like. only once you’ve seen him as the fearful delinquent and never again.

“childe, why are you following me? don’t you have other friends?” you asked, turning your heel to stop abruptly, facing him. thankfully the road you took to go home doesn't have any crowds. otherwise, this situation could be taken in the worst way possible. childe rested his head on your shoulder, you could feel the ambience to dampen as you met his ocean eyes. 

he looked back at you, “well, name, your bodyguard is here to protect you.” 

dog. 

you rolled your eyes, “really, thats your excuse.” 

his gaze only stayed on you, “mhm, and as your bodyguard, you need to be safer around these parts.” 

“so you’re a cowboy now.” 

“no? well, i just want to say something.” 

okay, maybe a cat? 

“go on.” 

“you know in english where i acted… weird..” oh yeah, you remember now. if you recall, he was acting off. more flirty than normal, did you hate it? not exactly… but does he really need to know that? not right now. 

“there was this group of guys who were talking about you like you were an object as if you were just the girl of the week. so that’s why i was acting like we were dating. and don’t worry, i did use my words…” 

“that’s cute of you but you also fought them didn’t you?” 

“you called me cute?” 

“that’s what you focused on???” 

“that’s besides the point, you think im cuteeee.” 

“sure whatever you want.” 

he’s a dog that’s for sure. 

[httplilyyy]

𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐅𝐔𝐍𝐂𝐓𝐈𝐎𝐍𝐒 || 𝐋𝐄𝐍𝐀 𝐎𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐃𝐎𝐑𝐅

pairing: lena oberdorf x reader

summary: you're best friends so what's wrong with one little cuddle?

warnings: nothing but fluff

word count: 1.3k

a/n: i haven’t written for the woso world in a while and due to the wwc going on i thought it was only fair to write a couple fics. send in ideas and prompts for people you want me to write for and i’ll see if my brain can work something out :)

woso masterlist request

You've known Lena for what seemed like forever. From the moment the two of you met you couldn't be kept away from each other. Now three years on, the two of you were as thick as thieves.

Only up until recently, you had been thinking of Lena in a different way. Going from longing gazes to discrete touches. You knew you were falling for the girl but you just couldn't stop yourself.

You knew you couldn't do anything with these feelings so you kept them buried deep down. Not telling anyone. Not a single soul.

Due to hiding your feelings you had been different around Lena, and you were sure she could sense it. As much as it pained you, you tried to put a little distance between you both but you were just not able to keep her from running around in your mind.

You were currently sitting on your sofa at home, scrolling through instagram when you noticed that Lena had posted. Clicking on her account you could’ve sworn you had heart palpitations.

Immediately liking her new photo, your heart nearly jumped out of your chest once you saw a message pop up at the top of your screen.

[ lena: 6:56pm ] eager much?

[ you: 6:56pm ] i’m sorry?

[ lena: 6:56pm ] check when i posted

Opening instagram back up, you saw how long ago she posted. And it wasn't long at all. 1 minute ago. Shit.

[ you: 6:57pm ] what? I can’t like a photo of my best friend?

Playing it cool and definitely not acknowledging the way your chest pained after typing the reply.

[ lena: 6:57pm ] oh no, you can. just seemed a bit quick, no?

[ you: 6:57pm ] i refreshed the app and you popped up

[ lena: 6:57pm ] mhm sureeeee

[ you: 6:58pm ] i hate you

[ lena: 5:58pm ] no you don’t

[ you: 5:58pm ] i’m pretty sure i do

[ lena: 5:58pm ] so if i invited you over for pizza and a movie you wouldn't come?

[ you: 5:59pm ] i hate you

[ lena: 5:59pm ] i’ll see you in a bit

You huffed out a laugh, getting up from the sofa with a sinking feeling in your stomach. You couldn't help but wonder what it’d be like if you actually told her how you felt. Shaking your head, you got rid of that idea.

Grabbing your keys from your kitchen counter, you put your shoes on and made your way over to Lena’s. It wasn’t a long drive and before you knew it you were standing outside her front door, waiting for her to let you in.

“The stalker’s here.” Lena grinned as she opened the door.

“Ha ha, very funny.” You deadpanned, walking past her and into the living room where there was pizza laid out on the coffee table.

“Wow, I don't even get a ‘hi’ and you’re already digging into the pizza.” Lena scoffed, sitting beside you on the sofa.

“I only came for free food and a movie.” You said with a grin, discreetly trying to put space between the two of you.

“Whatever.” Lena said, rolling her eyes as she tried to fight off a smile that made its way onto her face.

“What movie are we watching?” You asked, taking another slice of pizza.

“Ten things I hate about you.”

“Really?”

“What? I like a good romcom.” Lena shrugged, taking a slice of her own and pressing play on the movie.

As the movie went on, your concentration became less and less. Your brain solely focused on the person beside you. No matter how much space you put between her, you still felt yourself being drawn back to her. Like an unexplainable force pushing you together.

Shifting in your spot, you tried to get comfortable but it was no use. Every position seemed to be more uncomfortable than the last and unbeknownst to you, Lena seemed to be having the same problem.

From all your shifting around, the two of you were now sitting next to each other. Shoulder to shoulder, thigh to thigh. Lena rested her head on your shoulder, still trying to find a comfortable position.

Accidentally, Lena let out a small grumble, becoming fed up with being uncomfortable.

“You okay?” You chuckle, looking down at Lena.

“No.” She huffed, moving off your shoulder.

“What’s up?”

“I can’t get comfy.”

“Neither.” You agreed, a small tight-lipped smile making its way onto your face.

“Lay back.” Lena said, placing her hands on your waist, pushing you to lay on your back.

“Wha- um, okay.” You said, heart pounding as you let Lena guide you back.

You got yourself in a position so your head was rested on a pillow, being slightly propped up by the arm of the sofa so you could fully lay down.

Once you had stopped moving, Lena crawled on top of you, laying her body across yours.

“Is this okay?” Lena questioned as she let out a content sigh against your neck, her breath sending goosebumps to spread like a wildfire over your skin.

“Huh- I- what?” You blushed, eyes wide as you scolded yourself for not being able to form a complete sentence.

“Do you want me to get off?” Lena asked, placing her hands on the arm of the sofa, either side of your head, so she could look at your face properly.

“No! I uh-” You coughed and let out a nervous laugh. “I don’t think so?”

“You don’t think so?” Lena repeated with a teasing tone.

“I don’t want you to get off.”

“Okay.” Lena smiled and moved back to the position she was in originally.

By now the movie was long forgotten and you couldn't help the way your heart sped up at how Lena was on top of you.

Not knowing what to do without malfunctioning, you kept your arms up in the air, deciding that was the better option.

“You can touch me, y’know. I’m not fragile.” Lena said softly, reaching her arm out to grab yours, placing it around her waist.

“Mhm, yeah. I know that.” You said, placing your other arm on her back, slowly drawing intricate patterns.

The two of you didn't say anything for the rest of the movie, the both of you enjoying the tranquillity of the moment. As the credits played, you had failed to notice that Lena had drifted off to sleep.

You had tried to slide out from underneath her but it was no use. Shifting in her sleep, Lena mumbled a few incoherent words and you knew that you had fallen so hard, you don’t think anyone would be able to save you.

Letting yourself drift off into a deep sleep, the only thing grounding you was the person on top of you.

Many hours passed and it was now the early hours of the morning, the sun peaking through the blinds caused Lena to wake up from her sleep.

Some time during the night, the two of you had shifted so she was trapped between you and the cushions of the sofa.

Lena froze, noticing the position she was currently in and letting a blush take over her features. Her leg was draped over yours, tangled together and her hand had made its way up your top, resting on your stomach.

Snapping herself out of her thoughts, Lena quickly removed her hand from under your top, suddenly feeling her fingertips grow cold.

Shifting in your sleep, you wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her just a tad closer and resting your head in her neck.

“You’re staring.” You mumbled, eyes still closed as you let a small smile take over your face.

“I’m not.” Lena protested, weakly trying to get out of your hold.

“You’re lucky I like you.” You smiled, moving your head back to the pillow and tightening your grip on her.

Lena laid quietly for a while, assuming you had drifted back off to sleep before she spoke up again.

“I like you too.” She whispered, brushing a strand of hair that fell over your face.

“I knew it.” You smirked, pulling her closer into you. “Now go back to sleep.”

Lena let out a small chuckle, pressing her lips to your cheek before cuddling herself into you and drifting back off into sleep.

[belles-non-wallpapering-content]

It's a date E.S x FEM! Reader

Overture- Working in the paranormal section of the university library wasn't the best job, but the one person who came down there did manage to brighten your day, even with his needlessly formal demeanor.

CWs- Creepy basements, mention of loss of job

A/N- Day 12! Only like a half hour late, too! Need to celebrate the little things, I guess. Also I have no idea why I like Egon with a librarian reader so much. But this is what I imagine Egon was off doing while Peter and Ray were deciding to start the business.

The paranormal section of the university library was your favorite spot to work. Mostly because it was rarely ever visited. Tucked away in the basement, near the files, you could mostly listen to music and do sorting and shelving work. You really weren’t supposed to listen to music while you worked, but who was going to stop you? Your boss didn’t even come down here, he said it was ‘too creepy’. 

Half way through your shift, and your music was as loud as your headphones would allow. It was the only thing keeping you going in the —admittedly creepy— basement for this long of a shift. That was, until you turned around to grab another box of files, and there he was. The only person who came down here with any consistency, Dr. Egon Spengler. 

He wasn’t a teacher; but the university paid him to do paranormal research, so whenever he needed text to supplement his work, he came down to visit you. You wondered why he never sent a lab assistant, but you figured he must just prefer to do it himself. You weren’t expecting him though, so he definitely startled you, standing with perfect posture while carrying an overwhelming stack of books. 

“God! Sorry, I didn’t hear you come up, we really need to put a bell on you Dr.Spengler.”

“I told you that you can call me Egon, if you prefer.” It's so hard to try and separate your little crush on him from your work if you call him by his first name, though. Nevertheless, you did want to respect his wishes.

“I know, but you’re so formal I feel like I should address you formally.” 

“Well, thank you.” 

“Of course—Egon.” You nodded your head once to show that you were making the correction. 

“So are you looking for anything in particular? Or just returning?” 

“Just returning these.” He gently set down the stack, which was admittedly impressive. If you’d tried to set them down, it would’ve been a lot–louder. 

“Alright.” You gave him a smile and started grabbing the books one by one to get them checked back in. He could’ve easily put them in the return bin upstairs, it was far less out of the way. But you figured it was the same attention to detail that got him to come pick up his own research materials. 

“So what’re you listening to?” 

“Oh—uh, it’s just my work playlist, I’m really not supposed to have headphones in down here, but it gets so quiet. You’re kind of the only one who comes down here.” 

“Well I promise I won’t tell.” 

“Thanks, Egon, I do appreciate it. If you don’t mind me asking why are you returning all of these anyway? It must be everything you have checked out.”

“Yes, myself along with Ray Stantz and Peter Venkman were fired earlier today. So I had to return the books.” 

“Oh my god I’m so sorry! That’s rough, isn’t that like, your whole department?”

“The university is no longer interested in pursuing the furthering of scientific development through the paranormal, I suppose. But Peter and Ray seem to be coming up with a plan for us to continue our research.” 

“Well it’s good that you guys have something, I’m going to miss you down here.”

“Well thank you, I think that this will be the part of this job I will miss the most.” 

“Ok, you’re all set.” He gave you a short nod, and you finally let yourself speak before overthinking. 

“Just one more thing Dr. Spengler.” It was too late to take it back now, your mind had caught up, but you’d already started. You were going to ask him out. 

“Um–I haven’t really said anything just because, I try not to do that for the people who are like, in my workspace, but I–like you. So if you would like to go out for coffee or something sometime, here’s my number.” You handed him a sticky note you scrawled your number on while you were talking. 

“Oh, well thank you. I will definitely do that.” He took the sticky note and left, a little piece of you felt deflated at his reaction, he looked a little confused and once he started to leave he quickly walked back over to the counter.

“You did mean as a date, right?” You couldn’t help but laugh, just a little bit. That was the one part you thought you’d been pretty clear about. 

“Yes, like a date.”

“Alright, good. I’ll call you tonight.” “Cool! I’ll talk to you then.” When he did leave, you were grateful that no one else was there. That way no one could see the little dance party you threw yourself for finally asking him out.

[riordanness]

enchanté — [n.sheff]

wordcount: 1.2K

warnings: none

requested: no

tags: @honey-ambrosia my wife <33 (send her love or else)

a/n: idk?? i just had a random idea while watching this movie for the first time so enjoy i guess. nic is defo ooc, doesn’t do drugs in this fic either, and i know basically none of the movie plot yet. feel free to request nic sheff fics tho! <3

“Nice to meet you.” I smile; and shake my new roommate's hand. He seems nice enough, with pretty green eyes and curly brown hair.

He smiles back, then heads into our dorm room. I turn back to my conversation with the other girls in our hallway. Turns out there wasn’t an even number of girls or boys this year, so I got shoved into a dorm room with a guy. Not that that’s the worst thing that could’ve happened to me; he’s kinda cute.

One of the other new girls, I think she said her name was Alexa, nudges me. “Damn, I wish I was the not-so-unlucky girl stuck with a boy. He is hot.”

I shrug. “He’s not bad. He’s probably got a girlfriend though. Or he’s gay.” I nudge her back. “Doesn’t matter that much; he’s probably the kind of guy who spends all his time not in his dorm room. More time alone for me.”

I say goodbye and turn towards my bedroom door. I stop just before it, though, when I hear voices.

“Yeah, she seems nice, she’s just in the hall,” I hear my roommate say. I’m not entirely sure who he’s talking to, but then another person speaks, a much older man, and I remember his father is here.

“I feel for you though…” His father laughs, and I hear the sound of cds clacking together, and I realise that they’re my cds.

I internally cringe. Why did I decide to set up my cds? My roommate definitely thinks I’m a total loser freak now. I visualise my collection. Taylor Swift, Olivia Rodrigo, Chase Atlantic, Melanie Martinez, Joshua Bassett, and the Chainsmokers. Pretty much screams ‘basic white girl’ doesn’t it?

I knock on the doorframe, stepping into view. “Hey,” I say, waving a little at his father. “Nice to meet you.”

My roommate’s father hastily shoves my cds back onto my desk. “You too. I’m Nic’s father.” He stands and offers me his hand. I shake it, offering a smile.

“Well…” Nic’s father pats his pockets. “I’d best be going.” He gives his son a hug, who stands and grips his father tightly.

I feel awkward, like I’m interrupting something.

“Everything,” Nic whispers.

“Everything.”

Though I have no idea what that means, I think it’s adorable.

His father leaves, and the two of us stand for a moment. Then I drop my bag on the floor next to my bed and flop myself onto it.

“What’s your name?” Nic asks quietly. “I’m Nic.”

I prop myself up on one elbow. “I know. I’m y/n.”

He nods. “Cool.”

There’s silence for a couple more seconds, more than feels comfortable.

I blow out my breath. “My friend thinks you’re cute.”

He laughs in surprise. “Is that a pick-up line?”

“No.” I glance at him. “She literally does think that.”

“Okay.” Another pause. “My dad thinks your music taste sucks.”

I glance over at my cd collection, which is now in an unorganised pile on my desk, compliments to Nic’s father. “Mm.”

“It’s not bad, though,” he offers. “I love Chase Atlantic.”

I raise an eyebrow, and meet his eyes. “Oh yeah?”

“Mhmmm. Vibes, Into It, Friends, Meddle About, CALL ME BACK, Church, some of my favourite songs ever.”

I make an impressed face. “Okay, okay. I’ll accept that.”

“The other stuff though?” He makes a face. “Taylor Swift? Really?”

I sit up. “Yes. Taylor Swift really.” I grab my notebook out of my bag and relax onto my pillows. “Now shh while I write this idea down.”

He suddenly looks interested. “You write?”

“Duh.”

“No, no,” he tries to backtrack. “I mean, I write too. That’s why I’m here. To study writing.”

I look at him over the top of my notebook. “You? A writer?” i don’t mean to sound incredulous, but I probably do.

He nods sincerely. “I love to write. What kind of things do you write?”

“Umm…” I stare up at the ceiling. “All kinds. Poetry, fiction, lyrics, fanfiction, essays, critiques, anything really. I just love anything to do with words and writing.” I swing my legs over the side of my bed, facing him. “What about you?”

“Me too. Anything.”

I nod. “Can I read something of yours sometime?”

He shoots me a crooked smile. “Only if I can read yours.”

“Deal.”

We shake hands, and I’d be lying if I said my heart didn’t flutter a little.

It’s been six weeks of sharing a dorm with Nic Sheff, and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t love every second.

Turns out, he’s amazing. At like, everything. His writing is incredible, at least the little I’ve seen so far. He can skateboard like nobody’s business. He can sing, speak French, and apparently, braid hair. (I know from experience, trust me on this).

“Hey, tresses,” Nic says, throwing his backpack on the floor, and himself on my bed.

I was at my desk, trying to study. “Hey,” I reply absentmindedly.

“You got class this afternoon?” he asks.

“Mhm.”

“Same one as me?”

“Probably.”

“Y/n…” he whines, picking up my Spider-Man squishmallow and throwing it at me. “Pay attention to me.”

I glance up. “What?”

“Do you have the poetry class in twenty minutes? The one we both take?” He asks the question slowly.

I read my timetable quickly. “Yeah. Yeah, I do.”

“Okay. Let’s go then, it’s a bit of a walk and we do not want to be late.”

I shut my laptop. “Fine. Let’s go then.”

He jokingly offers me his arm, and instead of taking it like a lady, I hit him. “Ow, y/n!” he complains.

I giggle. “Come on, Nic. We don’t wanna be late.” I mimic his earlier words.

He rolls his eyes. “You’re awful, tresses.”

“You love me.”

He doesn’t reply to that.

“Alright, Mr Steff, would you like to read your poem aloud now?” Mr Day asks the boy.

Nic glances nervously at me, for some reason, then stands as he nods at our teacher. “Yes, sir.”

He unfolds a crumpled piece of paper, clears his throat, and licks his lips in the cute way he always does when he’s worried or nervous.

“Mon amour,

Oh, how I adore you.

The way you make me feel, my love,

it’s like I’d give anything for one of your smiles.

The fact that I can’t say ‘je vous aime’,

well, ça me tue à l’intérieur.

j’ai été enchanté de te rencontrer,

mon amour.

je pense que tu es á ma place.

Mon amour,

Oh, how I adore you.

Je vous aime.”

A brief silence follows Nic’s poem, then a round of applause, louder than any I’d heard here before.

He looks at me, and for a split second I don’t know why. Then it clicks.

“Me?” I ask weakly. “You wrote that… for me?”

He smiles shyly. “I love you.”

The whole class cheers, and we get another round of applause.

My mouth is open, and my heart is racing, but I know I want to say it too. But for some reason, when I open my mouth, the words won’t come out. So I do the only other thing I can think of.

I stand up, grab Nic by the collar, and pull him into a kiss.

The cheering gets a whole lot louder after that.

translation:

“My love,

Oh, how I adore you.

The way you make me feel, my love,

it’s like I’d give anything for one of your smiles.

The fact that I can’t say ‘I love you’,

Well, it kills me inside.

I was enchanted to meet you,

my love.

I think you belong with me.

My love,

Oh, how I adore you.

I love you.”

[ynscrazylife]

Eek! Yay!

So since I'm just a few episodes ahead I'm just going to keep it kind of vague. What do you think of a younger sister whose just a little younger than Sam? Dean practically raising her and so they're super close but when Sam leaves for college their dad decides that maybe the hunter life isn't the best for his daughter so he leaves her behind with a family friend. Imagine the angst and abandonment issues (def not me) like after Dean picks up Sam he tracks down his younger sister he hasn't seen in like a year and she just never gave up hunting so now she's actually pretty good at it? Can you imagine how awkward that reunion would be?? Maybe they're hunting down a monster together or something??

Sorry, this isn't exactly a scenario so much as my own personal idea for a backstory? I don't know but if you like it or you want something else let me know cause there's tons more that are similar or completely different from this one 😏

Great minds think alike cause I kinda had an idea in mind where Dean and Sam meet up with their sister through a hunt! This is a little different than what you put in the ask tho, so I hope that’s alright. I also feel like there is enough for a part 2 so I could end up adding to this! And this would be a fun OC concept to make 👀 if anyone wants that.

a reunion for the ages (dean & sam winchester x sister!reader)

The thing that makes this entire situation, what your life has become, so backwards and twisted is that at first, you didn’t actually want to hunt. You wanted to go to college, like Sam. You weren’t even that much younger than him and in his first year, he seemed to love it. But when your time rolled around, you didn’t get into Stanford.

Yes, there were other colleges that accepted you, but you really wanted to be with your big brother. The rejection hit you hard and as a result (and needing a distraction), you threw yourself into hunting. You became careless and reckless and instead of talking with you about it, your dad made a decision for you: that you weren’t cut out for hunting. He left you and took Dean with him.

When Dean realized what was going on, he of course tried to stop his dad. They got into a pretty bad fight over it. But he was a stubborn man and he refused to go back for you. Dean tried calling you, but thinking that he was in on it with Dad, you refused to pick up. You kept in touch with Sam for a little while, but the both of you got busy as time went on, and the weekly calls stopped.

A few years later, Dean and Sam have hit the road, intent on finding Dad. The backseat of the Impala, which was usually occupied by you, is empty.

“I thought if I gave you some time you might bring it up yourself, but dude, are we picking up Y/N or not?” Sam asks finally, no longer wanting to beat around the bush about it. He knows about Dad and Dean leaving you behind, but assumes that at some point you would’ve made up with them.

“She shouldn’t be involved in this,” Dean says resolutely, keeping his eye on the road ahead, firmly gripping the steering wheel.

“You had no problem involving me in this,” Sam points out, trying not to sound upset over it. There was a small part of him that wonders if he hadn’t gone with Dean, would he’ve been able to save Jess? Still, he knows that he went willingly, and that he could’ve said no.

“You know how to hunt and fight. The last time I saw Y/N hunt . . . Trust me, it didn’t go well,” Dean mutters, definitely not in the mood to have this conversation.

“Shouldn’t we at least let her know what’s going on with Dad?” Sam suggests, now more curious about what happened between you and Dean and Dad. You never gave many details about it.

“Have at it, if she’ll pick up,” Dean says, throwing one hand in the air. He’s trying to play it off as if he doesn’t care, but he does. He misses you.

Sam tries but, as Dean predicted, you don’t answer. Over the next couple days, they get wrapped up into a case where they suspect an angry ghost is the perpetrator, going after the people that they blame for their death. Thankfully they’re able to find the object that the ghost is attached to, a music box. What they don’t expect, however, is to be dealing with a ghost possessing someone. It’s a chef, to be exact, which leads them to their current situation: fighting the possessed chef in his kitchen.

“Sam, a little help here?!” Dean yells, fist-fighting the enraged chef, who looks a little ridiculous in his white chef’s hat.

“I don’t have any iron! Or salt!” Sam yells back, rummaging through his bag in search of something, anything, that might help.

Suddenly, someone runs into the room from behind the guy and jumps on his back. It’s a woman, with a bat in her hand. As the guy stumbles back, she hits him in the head repeatedly, until the guy throws her off his back and onto the table. The woman smacks him again with the bat, then gets salt from out of her pocket, and throws it at him. The ghost is expelled from his body and he drops to the floor.

Dean and Sam exchange looks, wondering who the hell she is.

The ghost isn’t done yet, though. It lifts the woman into the air and lets her drop onto the table, which cracks. She falls onto the floor and the ghost lunges for her, disappearing and now possessing her. Dean and Sam prepare themselves for another fight, only to both freeze when the woman stands up and turns around.

It’s their sister. Their little sister, who’s meant to be enjoying a hunt-free life. There’s a gash on her forehead which is leaking blood down her face and within seconds, she’s lunging at Sam.

He falls back, not sure what to do. If this were anyone else being possessed, he’d fight back, but he doesn’t want to hurt you.

“Y/N, Y/N, c’mon!” He yells, doing his best to dodge your hits.

Dean runs around and grabs you in a bear-hug, pinning your arms to your sides. He drags you back, even as you thrash. “Get some salt, Sam!” He says, struggling to manage you.

“I told you, I don’t have any!” Sam repeats, frustrated.

“It’s a KITCHEN!” Dean practically screams.

While Sam looks for salt, you twist out of Dean’s arms. The two of you go at it but eventually, Dean’s able to get you down on the ground. He feels bad about pressing his knee on your abdomen, holding your arms down, but he has to keep you there.

“I found a salt shaker,” Sam says, kneeling down by your head. “We gotta destroy the music box, though, before the ghost possesses one of us.”

“Alright, do it, but give me the salt,” Dean says, moving your arms above your head and holding your wrists with one hand. With his other, he takes the salt and has to pry your jaw open to pour the salt in your mouth.

You cough and splutter, but Dean forces your mouth to close until you’ve swallowed the salt. Finally, the ghost leaves your body. Dean throws the salt shaker to Sam, who salts the music box before chucking it into the oven.

“Alright, Y/N, we gotta go,” Dean says, throwing one of your arms over his shoulders and pulling you to your feet.

All you can do is lean against him and mumble your brother’s name, your head spinning.

Sam grabs the chef and the four of you stumble out the back exit. Sam lays the chef on the ground and calls the fire department, then you guys make your getaway in Dean’s car.

“I’m staying with her,” Sam decides, sitting in the backseat with you while Dean starts to drive.

“Sam . . . Dean? What’re you doing here?” You ask as Sam tends to your head with the first aid kit that they keep in the car. You can hardly believe that you’re really with your brothers again.

“Could ask you the same question, kid. Sammy and I were hunting that ghost,” Dean says, speeding up a little to get to the motel faster.

“So was I,” you say. Your head feels far too heavy to hold up on your own right now so you let it lean against Sam’s shoulder.

“What?” The brothers ask in unison. They weren’t sure what answer they were expecting but it wasn’t that.

“Been hunting ever since you and Dad left, Dean,” you tell them. Even though you are in pain, you don’t miss the beat of silence that follows.

“You were pretty good back there,” Sam compliments, ruffling your hair a bit. With your head wound bandaged up, he slings his arm around you for the rest of the drive.

Dean is quiet, his fingers thumping against the steering wheel, until the three of you arrive at the motel. Sam helps you out and lays you down on his bed. “I’ll be right back, gonna get you an ice pack,” he says, going to the mini ridge.

Dean sits across from you on his own bed, sighing. “How are you feeling?” He asks.

“Like I got thrown onto a table . . . Oh wait, I did,” you answer sarcastically, mustering up a smile.

Sam returns, giving you the ice pack and then sitting next to Dean. He glances between his siblings, sensing some tension. “Do you two need to . . . Talk or something?” He asks.

“You’ve really been hunting this whole time?” Dean asks you, still in a bit of disbelief.

You nod. “I got my act together after Dad . . . After you and Dad left. I wanted to prove him wrong,” you explain, shrugging. “Where is he, anyway?”

Sam and Dean exchange a look. “We don’t know. We’ve been hunting and hoping to find him in the process,” Sam says.

You nod slowly. Your dad taking off isn’t that uncommon, but it is uncommon to see your brothers hunting together. “I’ll get out of your hair soon,” you mumble, not sure that they wanted you around.

“Woah, wait. There’s no rush. Sam was right, you were pretty good back there . . . We could use your help,” Dean says. He’s not going to let you go so easily this time around.

“Really?” You say, a little surprised. You sit up in bed, taking the ice pack off your forehead.

“Yes. And keep that on,” Dean says quickly, taking the ice pack from you and pressing it to your wound himself. He moves to sit down next to you, making you roll your eyes, but you don’t argue. It’s kinda nice to have him helping you out, he’s always been protective over you and Sam.

“The Three Musketeers, all back together again,” Sam jokes, just to annoy you both.

“Is it too late to back out now?” You ask.

“Yes,” the brothers say. You’re in too deep now, Dean and Sam aren’t letting you go again.

[kamii-2]

“you thought wrong”

so sorry for not posting a chapter in almost 2 months but i hope you guys enjoy this long-ish chapter! a part of this chapter is based off of a fanfic i read a while ago, im not sure who wrote it or who the fic was about but if i ever find out who it is i will definitely give them a shoutout type thing. i’d also like to say this chapter is where things start to like really happen (idk how else to word it, hopefully you get what im saying) and im very sorry if the beginning of the sorry is confusing in any way, also act like they’re all old enough to drink.

warning(s): cussing, drinking, kissing

genre: fluff

pairing(s): kk arnold x reader

“you thought wrong” masterlist

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chapter 3: “is this some kind of prank?”

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the moment you accidentally opened the door then shut it, kk pulled away from the girl she was making out with and ran to ice, not telling the other girl what was going on. “ice, i think i messed up any chances i had with y/n. she just walked in on me making out with another girl.” kk told her best friend, trying to catch her breath from running down the flight of stairs. “why would you even make out with someone else if you wanted her so bad? are you actually stupid?” ice was mad that kk would even do something like that, wanting a girl then making out with another, it made no sense. “i haven’t done anything with anybody in a while and the girl offered so why not take up that offer?” kk said, half joking. kk thought about where you could’ve went, “she left second she came back down here.” ice said as she took a sip of her drink. “great.” was all kk said as she plopped down next to her best friend.

-

kk was all you could think about while you laid in bed, trying to sleep. after seeing her kissing another girl it made you realize how in love with her you were. you wished you were the one she was kissing, not some random girl at a house party who probably just wanted to use kk for sex. the image of her and the other girl kept replaying in your head again and again, you couldn’t take it anymore so you tried to watch tiktok to forget about kk and the stupid girl she was with. when you opened tiktok the first thing you seen was an edit of kk. “oh my God.” you said out loud as you got off the app and turned on your tv. you decided to just watch some netflix until you fell asleep.

when you woke up with a mild headache, you didn’t drink too much so your hang over wasn’t as bad as it usually was when you drank. you got up and took some medicine to ease the headache and drank water to help the pill go down your throat. you grabbed your phone and seen that symphony had texted you a few times asking if you were okay, you told her about how all you thought about was kk last night and how when you opened tiktok she was the first thing you seen. you two continued to text about what happened last night and other random things until symphony just randomly stopped texting you back for a good 20 minutes. you brushed it off and went on with your day, thinking she was busy or her phone died. in reality, symphony got a text from kk’s best friend, ice, on instagram.

-instagram direct messages-

@ice.brady: hey this is symphony right?

@symphony_roy: yea why?

@ice.bradyy: be honest, does y/n like kk bc kk likes her a lot and doesn’t believe me that y/n likes her back. @ice.bradyy: pls tell me i promise to not show kk like fr

@symphony_roy: yes 😭 ive been telling y/n since the day she told me that kk is gay and likes her back but her slow ass won’t believe me

@ice.brady: bro they act the same way exact same way 😭@ice.bradyy: anyway the reason im texting you is bc i think we should make them go in a blind date but don’t tell them the gender of the person bc i don’t want them to find out immediately

@symphony_roy: wait that’s a really good idea @symphony_roy: but we need to plan this more before we dive right into it

-real life-

after they planned out their entire plan, symphony went to your dorm. “hey.” you greeted as she barged in, using the spare key you had gave her. “so…. how do you feel about blind dates?” she asked while clasping her hands together, taking a seat on the couch next to you. “uhm, they’re okay i guess… why?” you reply while stopping what you were doing on your phone and side eyeing her. “because you’re going on one on monday.” symphony stated, “what?!?” you yelled while whipping your head to look at her, “i did not sign up for that!” symphony just stared at you, a small smirk on her face. “well, you’re going on it, i don’t care what you say.” symphony shrugged while getting up and leaving, “bye, remember you have a date in two days, i’ll send you the details later.” she closed the door.

-

when you woke up you seen kk had followed you back on every app you followed her on, seeing this made your stomach do backflips. you were a bit embarrassed because you had followed her for ages and she just now followed you back but you didn’t really care because atleast she followed you. as the day went on you kept stalking kk, being careful to not like any super old pictures on instagram or old tiktoks. you were stalking so hard you even found her mom’s facebook page. in the middle of your stalking, symphony barged in your room, “okay so what are you gonna wear tomorrow?” she asked while sitting at the edge of your bed, facing you. “i don’t know, probably jean shorts and a crop top.” you shrugged, “basic as hell. wear something more revealing, you gotta show off all that ass to them.” she half-joked, “bro then you find my outfit.” you sighed at her.

symphony went to your closet and started to look through everything to find the perfect outfit for you. after about 10 minutes she found a short, tight, light pink dress. you bought it last month and never got the chance to wear it. “it’s perfect, i’ll tell your date to wear something on the nicer side. you guys will look so cute together.” she smiled while holding the dress up. you were still unsure on the whole blind date thing but you were kind of excited for it, maybe you’ll meet your soulmate. you had thought about who it could be and you thought about it being kk but you weren’t sure if symphony would do something like that.

symphony stayed over for the rest of the day and didn’t go home until sunset. you two talked about life, ordered pizza, and watched a few movies sherrie she went back to her dorm. you were too nervous to go to bed, knowing that the next day at 7pm you would be meeting up with a potential complete stranger for dinner.

-

the whole day you were super nervous and could barely think straight. part of you was thinking about just not going but you know if you did that then symphony would rip you a new one. you were hoping the date was a girl and hoping it was kk but you knew it wasn’t gonna be her, kk was just making out with another girl 2 days ago, she wouldn’t switch that fast, or so you thought. at around 6:00 you started getting ready, putting on the dress and some white heels that made you an inch taller, and putting on light makeup. symphony showed up to your dorm at 6:34, “im taking you to the restaurant because im gonna sit a table or two away and watch yall.” she said with a huge smile on her face. you nodded in response and continued to get ready.

on the way there you were so nervous to where you thought you could throw up. the whole car ride you were silent and had short answers when symphony talked to you. “y/n its okay i promise. dont worry about anything. all you gotta do is meet this person, talk to them, eat dinner, then you’re done.” symphony reassured you, keeping her eyes on the road. you sighed and tried to think on the bright side of it, if you didn’t like this person then you’d probably never have to talk to them again. as you got closer you got more and more nervous but you kept thinking about what symphony said and it helped it go down.

when you two got to the restaurant you immediately got out and walked into the restaurant. symphony pointed, “your date’s already here.” you stopped dead in your tracks and whipped your head towards her. “is this some kind of prank?” you asked while wide eyes. “nope. your date is kk.” symphony laughed while pushing you towards the table. “symphony you’re fucking lying.��� you said while trying to resist her pushing you. “i’m not, now go sit down and talk to her.” she said while pushing you again and walking away. you sighed before slowly walking over to the table that kk was at. when she looked up from her phone she paused for a second before she realized that you were her blind date. when you sat down it was quiet for a second before she said something. “hey y/n. how’s life been?” she said, not knowing what else to say. “it’s been fine, how about you?” you asked her, “good. did you know that i was your date?” kk asked with a smile. “no, symphony literally came into my dorm and told me that i was going on a blind date, didn’t tell me anything else.” you two laughed and continued to talk.

the night went very well, you two talked about everything under the sun and flirted a lot. symphony and ice were watching from a few tables over and talked about how cute you two were together. “i’m glad they made us go on this date.” you admitted while admiring kk, looking her up and down. “i agree, maybe i can get your number or something?” kk asked, “yea.” you say as you proceed to tell her your number. after she got your number the flirting was nonstop, now she was certain you liked her back. the rest of the night you two continued to talk about random stuff and even talked about going on another date.

at free you guys paid for the food snd drink you both went over to symphony and ice’s table. “hey guys.” ice said with a smirk, “do yall wanna go to a club or something?” symphony asked while standing up. “sure why not.” you said, “okay i’ll send you the address.” symphony said, talking to ice. ice nodded and you all went to the cars. “so how was it?” symphony questioned you the moment you both got in the car, “we were flirting the whole time and she asked for my number.” you answered, “aren’t you glad i made you go on this date?” she smiled while pulling out of the parking lot and driving to the bar, you nodded and told her more about the date.

after you got your ID’s checked, kk grabbed your hand and pulled you into the bathroom. “what’s wrong?” you asked when you reached a stall. “nothing.” she mumbled before kissing you, you immediately kiss back. the kiss felt magical, the way your lips fit together perfectly made your stomach do frontflips. you relunctsntly pulled away for air, “damn.” was all kk could say as she went back for more.

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i’m so sorry this took like 2 months to get out but i still hope you enjoyed!! i hope you have a good day/night, love you 💋💋

[jjkamochoso]

Hi again :3 more noritoshi stuff,,, it's his birthday soon! Maybe reader takes him out on a date to celebrate ^_^

Yessss omg I’m loving writing these birthday fics because I’m the biggest lover of birthday celebrations so this is a total treat for me!! And as everyone knows Noritoshi is my number one so let’s celebrate him as much as we can🥳🎉 thank you for your request, I appreciate it so so much!!! Also I kinda ran away with this so I hope it still meets your expectations lol🫣❤️

The Best Birthday Boy

Fluff

Noritoshi Kamo x gn!reader

Warnings: none

When you asked Noritoshi what he wanted to do for his birthday this year, he told you he had never given that June day much thought and every year he treats it as any other day, going through the same routine and not doing anything special. You definitely weren’t letting that happen this year so you immediately went into planning mode, deciding how to make this day filled with memories he’d cherish for a long time. Now you were standing outside his door, balloons and flowers taking up all the use of your hands while you tried your best to knock on the frame with your foot. He either heard your knocking or your struggle outside but either way, he was there in an instant, opening the door to reveal you and your gifts.

“Happy birthday!” you greeted. Noritoshi looked taken aback as he let you inside.

“Is this all for me?” he asked, taking the bouquet from you so you weren’t juggling as many things.

“Of course, silly,” you replied, tying the huge group of balloons to his bedpost, “and this is just a taste of the fun to come. Are you ready for your big day of surprises?”

“Trust me, this is more than enough,” he told you, sincerity shining from his gray eyes as he wrapped you in a big hug. “You by my side is the greatest gift I’ve ever received.”

“Sounds like you’re getting sentimental in your old age.”

Noritoshi playfully scoffed as he pulled away from you to fill a vase with water for the flowers you brought him. “It’s my birthday, you have to be nice to me.”

“I am!” you whined. “Besides, I could’ve greeted you today with birthday punches instead of gifts. One for each year.”

“People seriously do that?” His voice was filled with concern as you laughed and shook your head.

“Yep. Apparently it’s very popular. But,” you ruffled his hair a bit, “I’d never lay anything but a loving touch on my precious Nori.”

He ducked out of your assaulting reach as you fell into another bout of giggles and he rolled his eyes.

“Alright, where are you kidnapping me to first?”

“Can’t tell ya.” You winked. “But I can say we’ll be outside and then walking around other places so dress casually and wear comfy shoes.”

“Got it.”

He left to get dressed and you looked around his place thoughtfully. Everything was always in such neat order and you were awestruck by the high level of organization and cleanliness he never failed to commit to. You noticed that there weren’t many personal items present as he opted to keep the decoration to a minimum, but your heart did a flip in your chest when you spied a picture frame showcasing you and him together. It was a selfie you had taken on one of your dates and while you were smiling at the camera, Noritoshi was resting his softest loving gaze on you. It was a picture you both treasured and you were honored that he felt strongly enough about you to keep your relationship so brazenly on display. You were pulled from your thoughts when you heard him enter the room again and your breath hitched in your throat when you saw how handsome he looked. He was sporting dark linen pants and a white t shirt that accentuated his muscles perfectly. He opted for white sneakers and topped the whole outfit off with a black fanny pack slung over his shoulder. He looked breathtakingly attractive in this sporty outfit and you were quick to let him know.

“Woah. You always look hot but this look really suits you.”

Noritoshi couldn’t help but blush at your words. “Are you trying to embarrass me into oblivion on purpose?”

“What? No,” you said, pouting a bit before placing a kiss on his cheek, “but it’s my duty as your partner to remind you how alluring you are.”

You started peppering more kisses on his cheek before moving to his nose, chin, other cheek, then placed one on his lips.

“There,” you mumbled, “instead of birthday punches, you get birthday kisses.”

“Much more agreeable,” said Noritoshi, locking your lips together once more. When you pulled apart for air, you jumped out of his grasp as fast as possible.

“Okay! You’ve bewitched me enough today, sir, it’s now time for the birthday celebration to begin! No more smooching or we’ll never leave.”

“Fine by me,” he shrugged and you shot him a look. “I mean, uh, let’s get going.”

“That’s what I thought,” a triumphant tone coating your voice. You took Noritoshi by the hand and led him into a Kyoto neighborhood that was about 20 minutes away.

“This is an interesting route you’re taking me,” Noritoshi hummed as you walked along the empty streets.

“I’m glad it’s quiet today. I think the universe is on our side.”

You continued walking until you finally arrived at your destination.

“A cafe? Coffee sounds perfect right now,” said an excited Noritoshi, opening the door for you. You walked in and had a quick conversation with the woman at the counter, keeping Noritoshi out of earshot. When you joined his side again, he narrowed his eyes at you.

“What did you plan for me here?”

“Don’t worry, it’s fun, I promise. Just be patient.”

“I’m going to say I trust you but I’m not sure how accurate that is right now.”

“You’ll get your coffee in a few moments, no need to get feisty.”

“You’re a pain, you know that?”

“But I’m your pain.”

You gave him a wink and the woman called you two over to a secluded table in the back. Laid out in front of you were 10 small sized cups, each filled with a different coffee flavor.

“It’s a tasting selection,” you explained to Noritoshi, thanking the woman as she left, “these are all rare, specialty coffee flavors you can’t get anywhere else in the city. I talked to the owner and she’s allowed us to try each one and whichever we like the best, we can get a full cup of and a bag to roast at home.”

His eyes sparkled with gratitude. “Y/n, that’s… this is amazing. You’re amazing. Thank you.”

“Anything for you.” You gave his hand a quick squeeze before he pulled the chair out for you and you took a seat, him doing the same across from you. You had a great time sampling all the variations while chatting aimlessly with your happy boyfriend. You were relieved that he was very much enjoying himself, liking the challenge of identifying all the flavor notes in every cup. When they were all empty, you told the owner which ones you two liked the best and she gave you each a full to-go cup and bags of the beans. You thanked her profusely once more as you took your leave, sipping on the delicious drink.

“That was truly one of the coolest things I’ve ever experienced,” said Noritoshi, holding your hand as you walked to your next destination.

“I’m really glad you liked it. I was nervous that it would be too boring or something.”

“What? No way. Coffee can never be boring. It’s my favorite thing ever. Behind you, of course.”

“Nice save,” you replied jokingly. As you traversed the city sidewalks, it seemed all the birds and animals were out for their own strolls, too. You and Noritoshi had a fantastic time watching them scurry along on the mild summer day. There was one squirrel who seemingly led you to the park where the next birthday surprise was.

“Here we are!” you announced. A picnic blanket was splayed out under a big shady tree and on it was a huge array of snack foods, games, and art supplies. Noritoshi stared in wonder and delight as he took in this new portion of the celebration, unsure of what to say.

“I know, it’s a lot, but you deserve it all.”

“How did you…?” His sentence trailed off, finding it difficult to come to terms with the kindness you’d showed him.

“Miwa,” you confessed. “She set this all up while we were at the cafe.”

“Woah,” he breathed out, sitting down on the blanket. “I really don’t know… this is beyond words, y/n. I don’t know how to thank you.”

“It’s your day to be doted on because I’m celebrating you and how happy you’ve made me all this time. I wanted to return the favor and make you feel as special as you make me feel every day.”

You leaned over and grabbed the paint brushes and some games. “Alright birthday boy, what’s first? Painting plein air or party games?”

Noritoshi chose to paint first and you set up the canvases and paint while he snacked on the food you prepared. The afternoon went by in a flash as you created artful pieces and played games to your heart’s content. You even took some time just to lay on the blanket and watch the clouds roll by as Noritoshi held you to his chest, not wanting to let go of the person he loved so very much. As the sun started to go down, you decided to pack everything up and head back to your room for one more surprise. You made Noritoshi wait outside as you put away the picnic supplies and prepared the rest of the celebration.

“Okay, I’m going to cover your eyes so you don’t peek,” you said, placing your hands on his face.

“An old man like me can’t be trusted to not spoil a surprise?” he teased.

“I won’t hesitate to cover your mouth, too. Don’t test me.”

You slowly walked him into your room, being careful to not let him trip.

“Ready? Three, two, one.”

Your hands fell from his skin and he couldn’t help but gasp a little at the sight he walked into. Your whole room was decked out in birthday decorations, streamers and balloons covering almost every inch of space. A stack of presents wrapped in brightly colored paper was residing in a corner and a round cake with candles was placed on one of your tables.

“Happy birthday, my love.”

Noritoshi couldn’t form a coherent thought, glancing between you and the festive room a few times before settling on bringing you into a long, deep kiss to show his appreciation when words failed him. Even though you’ve kissed him a fair amount of times during your relationship, you never lost the butterfly feeling in your stomach every time he pulled you in and met your lips with his own. You didn’t want to pull away but you also didn’t want the cake to start melting so you reluctantly shimmied from his gentle grasp and grabbed a lighter, setting the candles ablaze.

“Make a wish,” you whispered, your face warming from the affectionate stare of your lover. He blew out the candles in one swift exhale and you got to work slicing up pieces of the cake. You handed him a big slice on a paper birthday plate, then began savoring the delectable dessert.

“This is so delicious,” Noritoshi complimented. “It’s almost as sweet as you are.”

“Oh stop,” you chided, wiping a small bit of frosting on his nose. “You have a little something on your face.”

“I wonder how that got there,” he replied sarcastically. You giggled and grabbed a napkin, cleaning him up. When your plates were empty, you cleared them and brought over his gifts.

“Y/n, I can’t take much more of this whole birthday thing, I feel too guilty. You’ve done so much already, I certainly didn’t need presents as well.”

“Aww, that’s too bad I lost the receipts and can’t return any of them,” you shrugged. Noritoshi just shook his head while chuckling a bit and began opening his gifts. You had gotten him a fancy coffee machine that could make almost any type of drink his heart desired, a gift card to the local sporting goods store for archery supplies, and a shiny yet understated silver chain bracelet.

“I’m so grateful for everything you’ve done for me today,” Noritoshi said as you clasped the bracelet onto his wrist. “I still don’t think I’m worthy of all this spoiling but I’m thankful for you showing me how much you care.”

“You’re the love of my life, Noritoshi. You being born is a worthy cause for celebration in my book. I don’t know where I would’ve been without you in my life and I’m appreciative that I’ll never have to know what that’s like.”

The black haired man took your hand in his as he ushered you to the couch, eager to cuddle you in the quiet calm of your room, away from any prying eyes or gossipy mouths. More of these tender moments with you were what he wished for earlier and it seemed to have already begun coming true. You both eventually fell asleep, content in the comfort of each other’s arms, stomachs and hearts full. If you thought today was filled to the brim with fun, Noritoshi couldn’t wait to show you how he’ll celebrate your birthday next.