#i was starting to have like. second thought about my career change. and was also having like MAJOR imposter syndrome | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

defmaybe · 13 days ago

Text

Mistake

NewJeans' Kim Minji (Angst) & NMIXX's Oh Haewon (Smut) x Male Reader

15.4k words

Some discussions of suicide

A/N: A few things before going in:

This is essentially an unedited, raw first draft. Expect an insane amount of errors and self-indulgent metaphors.

It's also unfinished in parts.

Still, I do genuinely hope that you enjoy this!

Thanks to Tyler and and Summer for putting me on the right track of being a writer!

Big inspirations from Caps' Departure, Nichu's Where Our Blue Is, Ddeun's Our Love Language is Sex, and Challengers

—

Prologue

—

Mistake all the time, You’re my mistake all the time, yeah

Mistake all the time, I’m your mistake all the time, yeah

—

You realized that you’ve never possessed the creative calibre as much as a writer should’ve had. Perhaps it’s appropriate that you’ve never pursued it as your major career. You read all these stories, and you knew that you just can’t come up with these plots. You don’t know how to do character developments, hell, you can barely write dialogues. The way people talk in real life remains a mystery to you. So, it’s probably for the best that you’re in engineering.

Though, it just takes a mistake to change it all. Many stories start with a catastrophe, a turning point, or something that puts the protagonist on their journey. So, here you are, you have a story right in front of you, so should it be transformed into something commendable? award-worthy? a selfish portrayal of what’s supposed to be just a passage of life? The goal of it doesn’t really matter much (though some recognition would be nice); you just had to write it out.

—

You don’t know how much time you have for this. Everyone has been telling you it should be long enough for the forgiveness to be ready, but you’ve also been wondering whether, if that day comes, it would be too long that the cadence won’t strike you as pristine as before.

Though, it hadn’t stopped you from fantasizing how this encounter would play out. You’d say something witty with a chuckle, and she’d smile back, or even better, a laugh. Both of you would see the separation as some childish actions of the past. The two of you would go back to where you were: grief-stricken, exhausted, scared high school students.

The sunlight would force you to retreat to some cafe during the afternoon, letting you two trade stories between the gaps. And as the sun sets, you’d sit beside her in some park, laid back a bit, hands on the grass to offer some balance. She’d do the same. Then your hearts would slowly be reconnected with each other, hoping to reclaim solace missing in the separation, as if you are the only two people on earth.

Firstly though, those events would have to be triggered by your words. And despite thousands of days of you trying to perfect every syllable, they just conveniently stuck in your throat. This isn’t what you’ve been readying yourself for. Awestruck and powerless is an understatement, and no tests have ever made you feel so drowned in your gargantuan number of thoughts.

You cannot say a word to her, and there may not be any second chance for this.

You are her mistake, and you’ll always be.

–

One: About You

–

There was something ‘bout you that now I can’t remember

It’s the same damn thing that made my heart surrender

And I miss you on a train, I miss you in the morning

I never know what to think about

–

I like you

What

I like you! Like do you wanna go out on a date?

(Seen)

It isn’t the longest silence you’ll experience with her, let alone with someone else, fourteen years on earth won’t give much of an insight to you, but it’s enough for you to know what she’s going to say next.

I’m sorry

Regret in her words bled through the pixels.

But I just see you as a friend

Being on text messages takes out the awkwardness a bit, but that doesn’t help transform the dagger, really.

Kim Min-Ji, your entire relationship was based on this encounter, and that three-week phase of some bullet crush upon entering a new school preceding this. You were charmed by a girl’s look, and then no one can compete with that.

You had found her face appealing, then you fantasized your whole life with her. One thing led to another, and you were head over heels for her in just a week.

Nowhere that you haven’t gone with her in your head: a date at an American diner—drinking milkshakes, a trip to the theater—watching some schlocky romance and cringing when the couple on the screen are kissing each other, and the most ambitious one: marriage, she’s smiling, everyone you’ve ever known is surrounding you, cheering as you are leaning in for a kiss.

Too bad you didn’t have a backup plan if it failed.

Consequences of the rejection had you decompressing every, single, thing you’ve been admiring about her to your friends, yeah, the same ones. You treated that as if it was the end of the world.

It was quite a phase, and you inevitably got closer to those people. They were slowly fading away eventually, one by one, but at least, at that moment, you felt like there’s someone listening to you.

While the dagger stuck, you kept eluding her, avoiding eye contact as you were walking past each other. You had to let her know you were hurt. God, that shit looked so damn petty in retrospect.

It was a month later when the heartbreak dissipated, and both of you decided that the next three years cannot be spent evading each other. (To be honest, it’s mostly just for you to stop being weird.) A nod was all it took, and that probably was a lot better than having her as a girlfriend.

–

She wants you to live on your life, separately

Being on text messages (and having it delivered through a friend) takes out the cruelty a bit, but that doesn’t help transform the dagger, really.

It started with just some petty acts, a crude joke. Then, just over a month later, you deleted every single picture of her, almost five years of them. It wasn’t a hard thing to do when you were so deep in melancholy, just a few minutes after a friend brought the breakup message to you.

You thought you had to block her everywhere. But with every step taken to create some distance from her, those actions just, somehow, create unending echoes tormenting you.

Why

You really wanted to fix this; you really fucking did. You’ve never wanted it to end, even when you sent some faux, response-seeking farewell messages after days of waiting for her confirmation of how she felt, just to have her come and reply about the exam she was having just a few minutes later.

Are you gonna send something to her again if you know?

But even with her crying emojis, you were relentless with your replies. I fucking hate you still echoes to this day. It shaped how you see yourself: a selfish, yet codependent, self-indulgent, unlovable person. Even with the apology texts you sent a few weeks later (which she never saw), those four words were tattooed on you.

I won’t

You wished you could, but this answer seemed to be the way to satisfy her.

Think about it

Like all those years

What have you done to her

It was supposed to end with your first apology text, when she called herself an asshole over it. Then, you became one yourself. It turned out that reading only the preview message doesn’t give you the full picture, so you paid the price just a month later. You replied to that, then you waited. And with how God made you so insecure, you thought she wanted it to end after a week you took to reply.

You had problems.

It’ll all be okay

Someday

Looking at your friend’s text, you sighed, knowing that you can only let fate and time lead you to it.

–

You were nothing more than a friend. She sure loved you, just not in the way one would perceive as romantic. There were kind words, there was thoughtful advice, there were chatting deep into a lot of nights.

Any form of physical contact though, you brought it up in some conversations (which one eventually being the spark that burned it all), were always quickly suppressed by her. So, there you were, having her as a friend, and the bar for where your future girlfriends should be.

hey

need some advice rn

uh huh

there’s this guy

send me his pic

alright wait a sec

[photo]

my god

what

okay yeah I know why he’s a big deal

fuck auto caps on I again

fuck

just turn it off in the settings lol

thanks

[Replied to: okay yeah I know why he’s a big deal] ikr

[Replied to: thanks] no prob

how is it with him

As it was flourishing, there were times that you wished for it to be as easy as a kiss and a happily ever after, with how well-gelled you’ve always been together. But the distance between you is just too much.

You can’t conveniently visit her on every other weekend, while she really didn’t want to close the distance from being a close friend (or as you would think to yourself later: “our love may not coincide at the same time”). So, there you were, you became each other’s advisor for those times you’ve had.

–

All of what you saw as confidential: all the vibrations of your heart, all the tears running down your cheeks when alone, all the ties you cut and formed, as any teenager would do, was at last, delivered to your parents, at the age you didn’t think it was possible for such change.

You didn’t expect that your parents would take it well, with how you’ve withheld everything for the last half decade, reducing every answer to their questions into a binary set consisting of yes and no. But as they’ve always been, they didn’t leave you in the dark.

You pleaded guilty to all of it – how you were wretched inside. How she became so much to you, how you took everything she says as an oath, how her jokes lit up a smile on your face every time, and how they still haunt you, to this day, keeps you from initiating any new, proper relationship with someone.

They kept coming back, even if you thought time would slowly fade them away. The minor details, yes, but the bigger ones are still having free shots on you every now and then.

The first few months were difficult. Bed seemed to be the best place you could’ve been, lying down, your fingers sliding reels after reels for god knows how long. Though, it hits you, years of being alone, walling people out was detrimental to you. It starts with some small repairs: story replies to disconnected peers, dates with your close friends, more exposure to your family.

You seek connections, desperately, to fill up the hole she once occupied. You took too many side jobs aside from the grueling university classes, and to be honest, you did meet a lot of new people in the next semester, even more than you did in the last two or three years here.

The space though, five years of freestyle carving put it into this twisted, incomprehensible, harrowing state in which all the adjectives in the world aren’t enough to define the shape of its former owner. How every fibre of your existence was tied to her was, as seen from outside, sad.

Sure, it’s not wrong to let someone into your life, but with this extent – thousands of words to pry out a response - it just reeks codependency in retrospect.

It took some time, and a bunch of people, to cover up the space. You never quite make it like it was; there’s always a hole somewhere, and you can still see the footprints she left on you through it.

How you tell people close to you, most of the time, is that there was a fight - one you started. Then you were being a bitch for too long, and by the time you returned, she put you out of the picture. You added some bits of how you were dependent on her for your heartaches, how you treated her like shit for years, how you sent waves of messages that she didn’t reply because she was busy, how you said you hated her, only to retract and regret it a few days later, then it all ended.

It could be some way of unearthing emotional vulnerability under that “cold” façade - as often pointed out by your friends, which you deflected as crippling social anxiety. You thought people would trust you more if you decided to tell them how you succumbed to those inner demons. It works most of the time.

You told them that you cried to some K-pop song that you can only understand like two lines.

You told them how you tried to recover the photos with some external program not a week later.

You told them, with an otherworldly consistency, that it’s your fault, never hers.

You told them you’d send something a year later, as an apology, to return to where you once were.

You told them that you might crumble again if the response is anything but a warm embrace.

Your taped-up heart remained intact when the day came, having your friends around and such after a year of reconstruction, and you surrendered to the fact that you really can’t do much more than a guilt-ridden text. But it’s not easy at all to watch “Sent just now” become “yesterday”, then “last week”, then “last month” slowly unfold. Then you knew that your strength just cannot handle this; cadence can’t exist with a single note.

It took you back to that day, when the future was just this black, unbounded, silent yet serene space. Times where every knife suddenly became alluring, heights weren't what you were afraid of anymore, the next trip to a pharmacist might be a deathtrap.

This eternal apathy: it was tempting to give in to it – to just leave all of these behind. Yet, you weren’t so sure to give yourself such an ending. People won’t like it, or do they? A lot of stories saw their main characters to their ends, no matter which way it would be. And to be fair, a lot of them became cult classics. You weren’t so sure which would be the right ending for yours.

–

Two: Now That We Don’t Talk

–

You grew your hair long, you got new icons

And from the outside, it looks like you’re trying lives on

–

One advice you took from your therapist is to keep journaling your emotions, each day. And even with the poor self-discipline, whether in a book or a journal, you carved your grimaces, laughters, and tears into words. But perhaps that became too customary. And as time passes, you find the storyteller side of yours magnetized outwards. So, there you were, in front of your old laptop, nibbling on the dagger.

–

Your plane landed in Tokyo mere hours ago. It was a few days after your sophomore year finals. You were paying for your inability to sleep with the shaking cabin, and it was just nine (Tokyo Standard Time) in the morning. Your eyes went dry, and you can feel the irregular beats of your heart. The sleeping pills from your psychiatrist can’t handle the excitement of getting on a plane, especially if it’s to Tokyo.

It’s cold, spring cold. Snow is nowhere to be seen, but your tropical genes are already shaken with a small breeze. You excused yourself from your family for some minutes outside the airport, to get some air for alertness.

The train would depart in an hour, but with the risk-averse nature of your parents, you had only 20 minutes to snap a few photos around Narita. You quickly pace yourself against the crowd, to the outside. You strode through the arrivals terminal, before reaching the automated door, finally catching the air. And it’s cold, spring cold.

It was cloudy, yet the sun was bright enough to deflect your vision away from the matter of protecting it. You pick up your camera to snap a few photos, testing the recipes you had looked up from home. And god, wasn’t Japan so pretty?

But maybe it’s the wind, maybe it’s the temperature, maybe it’s the sleep deprivation, you’re drawn to her, again. It was just over a month ago since the incident. Yet miles away from your parents’ car, when Minji had her dagger delivered through your phone, and as the distance grew, you realized that it’s poisoned.

Should I check my block-list?

It echoes, even if you had no reason to do it. And you gave in, under that spring air: cold, dry, unrelenting, merciless.

You took a seat by a slanted cream walkway outside. A man was sitting across from you. He looked up, before going back onto his phone, nonchalant to your presence, and it’s like you could complain about it.

And immediately, you take out your phone, so eager to check your blocked accounts.

She changed her profile picture into something that you can’t even make sense of: her. Even under the face of the drawn character, you could feel her radiate through your screen. Locals and tourists are still marching towards their destination, either into the city, or a plane, unbeknownst to your internal collapse. It’s probably the way your face is always the same - concealing the tears so well - cheerful or devastated.

She moved on from you: her old persona shed, bio rewritten, era changed. Yet there you were, at least a sea away, crumbled into pieces.

Perhaps it was time for you to shed a new shell.

–

“Minji will be here too!” One of your friends said.

It was the first time you had a sleepover at your friends’ apartment. Alcohols were, of course, involved. A bit of drunk chatting with your friends and walking around helped with the university-induced depression, which you, then freshman, naively dismissed as a normal thing. Then, you heard she would come for some lunch before you go back to the mundane routine you got yourself into.

“Heyyyyy.” You shouted into the room as soon as the apartment’s door was closed. She was sitting on the sofa in the middle of your friends’ studio-sized room.

“Hey!” She seemed to look different from her high school days, crimson on her lips, longer eyelashes, paler cheeks. She wears makeup now, and you wouldn’t lie that it took you by surprise - how beautiful she was. It may have been contributed to the fact that you had just six hours of sleep the night before, but she was gorgeous that day, breathtaking even.

“God, I miss you so much.” You said, sitting down beside her on the couch, while looking over the screen of her ancient phone.

“Awww, thanks babe.” Minji blew you a kiss, irony, to which you happily caught.

“Long trip?” You asked, knowing how far she is from the city.

“Hour and a half.” She murmured.

“Sorry about that.” You chuckled, laying your back on the couch. It’s a display of your insufferable narcissism as usual, a humble smugness.

Your friends were too busy on their phones, waiting for a member to finish his shower before taking a trip into the city.

“No need, I’m here to see you.” Minji beams.

“Thanks, Minji.”

Not that you haven’t seen love blooming in front of you before, it’s just that you can’t grow the petals to display your stern sentiment. It has been, to say the least, difficult for you to express any tinge of compassion.

–

“ROMEO TAKE ME SOMEWHERE WE CAN BE ALONE, I’LL BE WAITING ALL THERE’S LEFT TO DO IS RUN.”

It’s only the two of you screaming between the other guys in the karaoke room. Even if it’s Taylor fucking Swift, she still seems to be threaded just between you two.

“YOU’LL BE THE PRINCE AND I’LL BE THE PRINCESS, IT’S A LOVE STORY BABY JUST SAY YES.”

You were pointing to each other, with others baffled by how enthusiastic you were.

Both of you kept going like wannabe singers until the end.

“WE WERE BOTH YOUNG, WHEN I FIRST SAWWWWW YOU.”

And the song ends, leaving only you two sharing the only spotlights in the room.

“Minji, fuck, god, that was great,” you panted, trying to catch your breath after screaming Love Story.

“You should thank me for listening to only English songs,” she scoffs, smiling at you.

You attempted to make a cute face, sarcastically. “Thanks, Miss Kim.”

“It’s my job to listen to Taylor Swift for you.” She bowed and smiled.

It’s always the irony-infused conversations, but deep down, you know you could trust her, at least once you do. So many of your problems were solved by her. Just tell them directly, just do this, just do that. And if you didn’t even want to, she’d take your place to show how competent in the field she is, just for you.

As your friends continue with the songs you two can’t capture the lyrics, you slid yourself towards her. “So, how’s the med school?”

She finds the words to answer the completed question for a while. Your other friends are still screaming their lungs out. “It… fucking sucks, yeah, it beat my ass back to high school.” She’d frowned at her script.

“I guess so, I shouldn’t have asked, even. We should talk about light things instead, I’m sor—”

“Don’t be.” Minji cut you off. “It’s fine, I needed a place to vent, anyway.”

The mood, again, swung into glee along with the background. “Oh, so what, Miss Kim, you’re going to use me as your personal venting tool now?”

As if you predicted your future.

“I might, if it doesn’t get better.” She’d snickered at her own comment.

Your expression softens to sympathy. “Well, I’m here. Miss Kim, Go ahead.”

“Really? We can chat about this later, to be fair” She negotiated your offer, not wanting to ruin the mood.

You pondered for a moment, as the song came to an end. “I suppose so, wanna pick the song?”

Minji smiled. “Sure.”

It was these small moments that you kept digging up, even if it is surrounded by smiles and laughs. I wasn’t kind enough to her. I said the wrong things. I was selfish. And it slowly grew into something far more sinister. I am a bad person.

–

“Okay, I’ll post this and tag you all.”

After the group selfie, it was time for you to go back to your regular depression-inducing activities at university.

“I have to get going now. I have class tomorrow morning.” Slightly annoyed by the time restraint, it’s evening now.

“Don’t forget to tag me~” Minji would speak out, playfully, a façade for the fear of being excluded.

“What if I do?” You pointed a finger to your chin.

“I’ll block you, that’s what I’d do”

“Aww, I’d be so sad.” You sarcastically pouted, before giving a farewell, “Bye, babe. Bye, everyone.”, waving.

“See ya.”

That was the last time you’d see her face.

Upon reelings, you can only recall the words as a vague, half-hearted goodbye. Oh how you felt so secure with her back then you just gave some shitty farewell, unbeknownst to how it would stick with you as her final image of you – the fact that has been gripping you tightly ever since.

–

Maybe, in a way, it is to broadcast the insides of your heart to the world. It’s always been what you do best. You found yourself sitting down in front of your laptop, pondering on the word choices. You were walking on a minefield of words, avoiding repetitions that would make your readers groan at such occurrences.

It could’ve been easy - the one who left was the villain, and the one who found you is the typical manic pixie dream girl any man would want. You would boast it when you meet her again, saying something along the lines of “I won the breakup.”, or “Guess who’s crying now.”. It’s quippy, snarky, made-ready, and gives some sense of revenge to the readers, and to you.

It’s not hard to give in to the waning under the half-lit moon; the vengeance is too alluring. Still, perhaps it was that single, small spot in the dark sky - the one that keeps on flickering a signal. And it was decrypted into the ending you didn’t want, acceptance, even if the creeping clouds are slowly curtaining the sky. The star keeps on flickering, to guide you.

And you followed it. The piece didn’t get as much recognition as you’d like, as the grudges were, even if partly, let go, and only mentioned as your thorns. Yet, that day, those spikes were shed, for a new shell to form to protect you from your own hatred.

–

Three: Feels Like

–

Met you at the right time

This is what it feels like

–

You were told that it’s going to be some kind of joint committee between universities. And so, as one of the chosen, you are here, in such rare occasions of being in a suit. It’s tiring - you just got off from your senior project, internship is approaching in a week, right after the Christmas holidays. Yet, being given a few activity hours from your university isn’t a bad offer at the time.

Some classical music you’ve never bothered to look their names up were sent through speakers; they probably couldn’t afford a real band. The grandiose, dimly blue-tinted-lit hall was occupied by hundreds of representatives. Waiters were walking back and forth to corporate demands for the food and drinks. The sounds from all kinds of conversations are lighting this ball up. It’s, from a whim, lively for now.

As always, you felt out of place here. You’ve never been the type that would slot into a conversation with ease. Every word you say might be interpreted as an insult, a showboating of your dull wit. So, silence seemed to be the best choice here. You can’t have people see you as some lowly, dense, out-of-place ordinary guy.

You kept checking your watch, anxiously, it should have been eleven when you were to leave, and time gets slower on purpose. Words around you were slowly, but surely on its way to push you to your edge. There were a couple of people from your university too, just that they were nowhere to be seen. Maybe they are in the toilet? Maybe they can talk to strangers? Maybe they don’t want to be around you?

With every second ticked, an uneasy feeling crept up your body with confidence, eager to take control. Your eyes were stuck to your phone, with right thumb swiping short videos after another. Each one elicited a dopamine shot to keep the shadows at bay, but it could do just that. You know this stuff is going to shave off your attention span bit by bit, but not faltering in front of everyone now just matters more.

Until-

“Sorry.” A stark, yet tender voice shook you, despite its message. You expected someone to come take you into their company, but it’s still a long way to go to get rid of this shell.

You turned your head back until she’s in your vision. A short-haired woman stood before you, around your age; her lips formed a weak grin. Her left hand was holding an empty plate, though with a few hints of red velvet’s frosting on it. “Can I have some more cake?”

Her right hand was in her blazer pocket.

You realized you had been standing in front of the cake stand for the last fifteen minutes. Fuck, this is embarrassing. You immediately moved away from the front table. What if I was seen as some fucker guarding all those cakes?

“What’s with that face?”

“Uh—uh—” Being heavy in your thoughts can sometimes send some erratic, unwanted instructions to your facial features. This Fuck, this is embarrassing ordered the classic eyebrow squints, and a slight mouth frown.

“Are you seriously getting mad because I told you to move a bit?”

Ok, ok, shit, what the fuck is happening now. You were lost, failed to come up with a response. Those doe eyes were sure to be flammable with how you can feel trickles of sweat on your forehead now. First, you were all by yourself in what’s supposed to be a networking opportunity, and then this. This is how you are going to be viewed by these people now, an entitled, selfish asshole. A real chance pulled away from a single mistimed expr—

She pulled you back with her contagious simper. “I’m sorry. I was j—” She broke into another chain of laughter; there’s no reservation in those, like at all. “I was just fucking with you.” She put her right hand to cover her gaping mouth, while swaying her upper half back and forth like it was the funniest shit she has ever pulled.

You may have just felt the largest absolute emotional slope in your life - it doesn’t really matter in terms of good or bad, just closest to being a straight line. You let out a shaken sigh, then, without knowing, you can’t help but start laughing with her in unison.

“God, I’m so sorry. I didn’t expect you to be s–so anxious about that.” The hilarity subsided, as she was starting to regain her composure.

You replied with some remnants of the previous guffawing. “It’s fi—ha, ha, it’s fine.” Still taking in what’s just happened.

You finally got a proper look at her. And on that exact night you first met, she wore a gray blazer, perfectly compatible with her decent height, just a few inches shorter than you – did she get it tailored? The navy wide-leg pants she had on her really gave her this “young and rising executive” look. Her short hair was a bit messy, probably from all the walking and talking she had while finishing that poor red velvet cake.

Her nose was supposed to be the part that had you gawked, with how its bridge was flawlessly sculpted while still fitting with every other part on her face. And with the crimson lipstick on her plump lips, those features alone, perhaps, had Aphrodite working overtime.

Then, just a bit above those, her hazel eyes, the ones that will have you gladly trapped in it for hours. The sunsets you will be sharing is going to be reflected in her eyes, as you bring your face closer to hers, to realize that she’ll be the person you can, and want to spend the rest of your life with.

(We still need to come back to the first night though. You haven’t gotten much more of her personality than that joke.)

“So, aren’t you going out and talking to someone?” She asked, her right hand using the cake server to pick up the lone chocolate one in the center of the table.

“Well, uh, it’s kinda hard to explain” You gestured your hands into an “I don’t know” pose, moving them up and down a little to imitate a weighing scale, as if you know what’s on both sides.

She puts on her curious face, staring straight into your eyes, trying to pry out an answer. “Try me”

You tried to hit back with your straight face, ready to not give in to her request, but to no avail. Her stare was getting even more intimidating. God, that gaze is strong.

“Fine.” You replied, as she giggled with her victory.

“I can’t.”

“What do you mean you can’t?” She furrowed her eyebrows. She really looks like a confused bear with that face.

“Never have the courage to do it.”

“Well, you look like you have enough to talk to me.” She cuts the chocolate cake with her fork, before putting the piece into her mouth.

“That’s because you’re the one initiating.”

“Oka—“ She tried to reply with a stuffed mouth, but the content was still too big. She chewed it a bit more with her right hand covering her mouth, the other putting a stop sign on you. “Okay? And am I wrong for doing that?”

“No! I—“ Her right hand moved to her waist; she was burning you with her eyes, cheeks still moving. It is important that you don’t say the wrong words here. “Thanks?”

“You’re welcome~” She twisted the last syllable into a melody, before letting out a cute giggle. “I’m Haewon by the way. And sorry for fucking with you a little too much.” She offered a handshake, which you reluctantly accepted.

You suspected that there’s something weird with her then, with how chatty she was with you. Who would be going around, talking like this to other people?

It turned out a few years later that you’re the weird one.

“Aren’t you supposed to have some friends with you?” Haewon continues her pressing on you.

Shrugged, “Yeah, but I lost them like an hour ago, so—", as you fanned your eyes around for the umpteenth time of the night. The crowd rumbled, but still no sight of your peers. “I really have nowhere to go.”

Haewon kept switching her gaze between you and the crowd, as if to make more topics and banters out of it.

“You wanna join?” Haewon finally locked you within her sight; her thumb pointed away, into the uncertainty of the crowd.

“Uh—"

It’s one of the few times you picked the right choice, even if it was clear as day.

“Let’s go then”

Joy gleamed her face, “Great, follow me”

Along with Haewon, you walked with her into the crowd. You bumped into some people who are apathetic to your action, and some even give you an understanding look, unbothered by your mistakes. The classical music blaring around seems to calm everyone down.

You’d finally reached a group of similarly-dressed students. “Welcome back Haewon, what took you so long?” One of them muttered out.

“Him.” Haewon replied, while looking at you and beams a smile.

–

Four: Cutie

–

Woke up in your orbit

Now where do I start?

–

Eighth wonder of the world: how the fuck can you secure a date with the royalty, Oh Hae-Won. You were aware – made known by her friends teasing you during a few group dates, knowing how Haewon has been spending a lot of time on her phone lately, too often with a grin on her face.

“Hey” Haewon appears behind you in a sudden, voices in your head are now scattered.

A little shocked, “Hey”.

White tee, brown, modern crossbody bag on her shoulder, light navy jeans, hair a little shorter from that day, topped wi—

“Haiyah!” Haewon calls out, snapping you out of your trance. “You’re doing that again, aren’t you.”

“Doing what?” You replied, hoping she didn’t notice your pondering, borderline ogling on her choice of garments.

“Thinking.” She taps her head lightly. “Like you were being hypnotized or something.”

Rebuttal, “No, I wasn’t?”, and your eyebrows are marred.

“Yes, you were. And the first time I met you was also like this; you were lost in your head, and staring at me like you were trying to gauge something out of me.” She retorts with an arrogant chuckle.

“Alright, alright, fine, I’m a daydreamer, and what’s the problem with that?” You deflect the guilt. Shit, what the fuck did I say?

“Well—" Haewon nibbles her chin while finding the word. “People don’t really like being stared at, you know.”

“Yeah, that’s a fair point, my bad.” The people pleaser inside you got the better of the debater.

“Hey, look, let me give you some advice.” Determination sparks in her eyes, her hands holding on to the string. “Don’t think, just—do it, or feel it, you know.” You aren’t quite sure how to play along with her words. “The reason I’m here today is because I see something in you, and I’m sure you see something under this pretty face.”

And it’s true, Haewon sparks a sense of an adventurer inside you, even if they’re through internet lines. She brings up quite a number of places in the city you’ve never even heard the name of, and thinking of the list is, to say the least, nauseating. But under the boulder, your determination to match her venturesome nature isn’t crushed after all.

“You’re speaking like one of those life coaches, you know.” You sarcastically reply with a chuckle.

“It’s called encouragement, get used to it.” She nicks your shoulder softly. “Shall we start the walk?”

“Sure.”

–

You two stride along the road, catching the sight of other sightseers, both local and foreign. Graffitis are etched into the walls by your sides, interspersed with numerous coffee shops aimed to lure gen z customers with their furnishings. And one seems to work on you guys, because you now have an iced thai tea, while Haewon has a matcha latte, also iced.

“So.” You cut the silence, taking a sip of your content. “Are you here often?” It’s one of the more “talky” questions you can think of right now. Your head slightly turns towards her; your eyes during the rest (more than half actually) of the work to catch her in the bullseye of your vision.

“This is just my second time, to be honest.” She replies, drinking her matcha. “And I love how these buildings look; they probably look gorgeous on your camera, don't they?”

“It’s a good substitute for my Tokyo needs.” You scoff, scanning over the old houses around you.

“Oh yeah, those photos did look breathtaking, I can see why.” She brings up the photos from over a year ago, letting out a tiny smile in the process. “I’ve been to Osaka once actually.”

Surprised, “Osaka? How come you haven’t told me this already?”, she has never brought it up during the six months you’ve known each other.

“I can’t describe it as well as you, really.” Haewon looks down, still strolling at the same pace as before. “Plus, it was just for a project. We didn’t have much time for sightseeing.” She mutters out, eyes fixated on the ground.

“I think it would be fun, please?” A chortle escapes you, thinking it would let her know your enthusiasm.

It’s quite a clear day for a rainy season - hints of white clouds here and there, but never enough to rage against your first date. You two remain at a distance, still, leaving a gap between your shadows.

“No, no, you even laughed at the idea of it, I won’t tell you that.” She calls you out, whimpering as the sentence ends.

The next thirty seconds go by in silence, the two of you keep glancing at each other, evading contact at any signals. People pass you by as you walk, widening the distance between the tip of your fingers. Guilt, fear, uncerta–

“I won’t laugh again, I promise.” You give her an assurance, and that’s the best you can do.

“Really?” She looks up at you, catching your honest compassion.

“If it’s funny, I might.” You chuckle. “But I’m sure it was a good experience for you.”

“Thanks.” You lit up a grin on her face, as she’s getting all excited to tell you about her adventure.

“So, this was like three years ago, back when I had just finished my freshman year, it was a subway surveying thing.” Haewon starts her tale, with you two turning left, now walking to the river. “I went with a group of people, and it was mostly lecturing around the tracks, really.” She chuckles. “So we had just the evening for ourselves for like, a week.”

“We went to a firework festival on the first day. God, it was so fucking crowded, but the sparking lights looked spectacular. They did the color work well.” As she tells the story, you can’t help but get immersed in the words. There’s clarity in the way she recounts it, greatly assisted with how often she says “flickering”, “cold”, “bright”, “exhausting”, “overwhelming”, and much, much more.

“The wagyu just melted in my mouth.”

“The system was confusing, to be honest, like a spider’s web, but they helped me with that a lot.”

“Yeah, it was fucking cold, and I brought so many shorts because I underestimated late spring Osaka.”

You two walk past some more old buildings and a few more cafes, with her story as the melody. It sweeps your leg like a damn good movie. How vivid the atmosphere she’s enamoring you in, how she’s so enthusiastic in her reminiscence, and how she grins and narrows her eyes upon any mention of food.

After a while, the river is finally in your view, as she’s getting through her final day at Marble Beach.

“I pulled a friend I made there to see the beach with me, and he said that it changed his life.” She laughs. “It was beautiful, you really should see it.”

A soft smile escapes you. “Well, I kinda get him, really.” You two finally reach the cement barrier, heighting just on your hips. It’s not too short that Haewon would have to throw a life ring to you, yet not too tall to obstruct your river view, enough for you to rest your arms on it as if you’re posing.

“Yeah, the Odaiba Beach, right? I saw the photos, once you mentioned that.”

[More dialogue]

–

“How far is your stop?”

“Four stations.”

“Wow, I’m on six, then interchange to another four.” She sighs at the daunting route, knowing she’d be alone.

The carriage slightly shakes as it takes a small turn. Sight of people are only a few; both of you are holding onto a pole in the middle. You’re gathering all the willpower to keep your weak hand from falling onto hers.

Haewon is looking out the window in the same direction as you, eyes examining the view outside - nocturne. “Have you ever gotten bored of this?” She asks, turning her sight to face you still looking out along.

You ponder for a moment. “It looks pretty at night.”

“That’s true, but it’s not the question.” She replies. “And the way you talk is strange, you know that? Especially with how you answer questions”

“Probably from watching a lot of movies, I guess.” You deflect.

“See? You did it again!” She points at you, unbeknownst to the inadvertently closing distance between your hands on the pole. “It’s not a peeve or anything, really, but I see that you always answer yes-no questions with a reason, not directly yes or no.”

“Oh yeah, I’ve got this complaint a bit often. I have to say the same thing twice, or even thrice to a lot of people.” You reply.

“They probably expect a yes or no, perhaps?” Haewon ends the playful nudge with a chuckle. “I don’t mind though; I can catch your words.”

You can only smile in response. “Yeah, you’re gonna have to do that for a while.” You laugh, in a volume that wouldn’t make it echo inside the whole train.

“Woah, getting daring just being with me for a day? I’m having a good influence on you~” Haewon playfully takes a jab.

“You’ll have a lot of influ–” You pause. “That’s the same joke, yeah, that’s the same joke, I’m not saying it.”

She laughs, not quite as contained as yours, attracting a few looks onto you. “Yeah, I’ll see my schedule first.” Her laughter would dissolve into a smile. “I think I can sort out a few things for us.”

Us. You can melt right here and now. The way she says it so easily is just too attractive. What does she think of me? Are we a thing now? Should I kiss her?

“U—Us?” You stutter out, mind flayed.

Haewon is locked onto her calendar. “Yeah, I know I’m not that good at planning but—” She meets your eyes. “Oh.”

[You are blushing and there’s going to be a kiss at the end of this chapter.]

–

Five: Party Police

–

You don’t have to leave

You can just stay here with me

Forget all the party police

We can find comfort in debauchery

= = =

The sound of the air conditioner fills the room, emulsified with your anticipation, forming a perfect cadence. The air between you is a mixture of both minty breaths you insisted the two of you to take a spearmint candy, the gender-neutral-honey-scented body wash both of you used in separate shower sessions, and the summer breeze air purifier Haewon bought from your first trip to the convenience store together.

You two are inside her room, sitting on the queen-sized bed, hands clutched between the hole your tangled legs make.

Haewon’s lips are slightly parted, as if their owner is about to make out a sound, yet the whirring fan blows any of her half-thought intentions away. And instinctually, to which you realized a few blinks later, yours are also making their own gap, and the whirring fan blows any of your half-thought intentions away.

“I—" Haewon would be the first to stabilize her frequency, ever so mildly fluctuated by your proximity. “I love you.” She can only confirm it in a whisper, barely vibrating the dormant air around you.

Yet, it seeps in, perhaps by the sincere nature in her voice. Haewon has never looked this fragile before, and your next move can actually ignite her neurons with blue flame this time.

“I—I love you t—too.” Flushed, presto heart rhythm, you muttered out these simple words. Resting air now shook with the expressions.

You’ve kissed her many times before, the end of the first date, the middle of the second date, the start of the third date, then a full on make out session during one of The Academy’s International Film nominees, with an unknowing crowd in the theater (it helps that the movie is quite a rare action triumph, so that the wet smooches of your lips are buried under clips after clips being unloaded, and the bullet cases clanking on the floor). Though, never once has it ended with her uncontrollably uttering fucks or shits, or even deity names neither above nor under you.

Haewon starts to lean closer to you, wholeheartedly knowing that this won’t be a normal kiss. Her head tilts so acutely, barely deviated from the axis. The small, deep hum from her throat is unexpected, with her eyelids closed and all. Yet, who are you to say no to her proclamation of love.

The expectations are high, yours, hers, on this kiss to capture much more than your lips. It’s both of your first times after all. And with the contact, you can’t help but match her tone in lovestruck. Hands are still stationed, too afraid to take this further, until they aren’t yours that touches a face first. Haewon fondles your cheeks with both of her hands as the kiss ensues, persuading you to reciprocate, and you do.

Fervor rises along the ticks of all the clocks, Haewon pierces the gap you opened with her tongue, invading your mouth. You gasp in shock, signaling her to break off from the session.

“Shit, are you okay?” Haewon’s eyes enlarged, her breathing still out of rhythm.

Giggling, “No, no, no, just a little shocked, let’s continue”, as you initiate the action this time, hands holding her cheeks, tongue sweeping the insides of her mouth.

Again, fervor rises along the ticks of all the clocks, the sound of the kiss becomes the only thing you can hear now. It’s wet, a little salty, albeit ardent, and rapturous.

And with an unknown source of bravery, your hand traverses down from her cheeks, grazing her neck. Haewon hums a minim into your throat as your fingers hit the ridge of her chest. And through the fabric, you give her left mound a squeeze, eliciting another two-beat note from her. Tender, addictive are the first few words as your fingers sink into the cloth, and the desire arises.

Your voice, muffled through the kiss, and raspy in hunger, asks such a bold question. “Fuck, God, Haewon, may I suck on them?”

Haewon would hum another note into your mouth, before unlatching from the torrid endeavor. “Make me moan, and don’t use your teeth.” She commands.

It’s all instinctual now, don’t think, just feel echoes. You playfully push Haewon onto the bed, eyes focus on your targets. The rhythm of her ragged breaths now takes over the room.

You run your hands down her luscious curves, feeling every hill and hollow on the fabric, before hitting an edge. ”May I?” As you grab the hem of her shirt, so eager to expose her.

”Of course, babe”

Permission granted, you swiftly pull the edge of her garment up, with her putting her arms up for easy exposure. The stream of the sight of her somewhat toned midriff, perky chest, and collarbones runs through your eyes, and it’s almost too heavy to take it in. “Fuck.” And you can only give a profanity for it.

“I know, right?” She responds, chuckling.

Magnetized, and sudden, your lips latch onto her left, brown peak, coating her breast with your saliva. She complies with your action under you, letting out a symphony whenever your mouth is right at the top of her areola, right before leaving, then swallowing it again.

The buds, excited, erect under your touch. This seems to go on for minutes. You keep switching between her left and right mounds, one hand kneading the mound that isn’t currently savored, with the other traversing her upper body, marking every square inch as yours. You won’t get bored of this easily, especially with her moaning this loud.

“More, baby, more” Haewon pleads. Her hands start to push your head onto her erect nipples now.

If you’re going to be honest, it tastes just like any other part of a human body: skin, with some honey aroma after the shower. Perhaps it’s desire, perhaps it’s ardor, or perhaps it’s love, maybe all of them together, you were drawn to them. Her writhing cries only fuel the attraction further, and the force you use with your lips.

Until–

“Fuck, fuck–, yeah.” She whines. “That–That’s good, but I want more now, baby.” Haewon mutters in the same pitch as her moans, unable to retain her usual deep tone. “You seem to– love my tits– a lot, don’t you.” Her talking is constantly cut short to make ways for the ragged breaths.

“Twenty-one years of drought, babe” You chuckle, turning your head to face hers, chin hovering above her hard nubs.

“You wanna use your mouth or your dick, huh?” Slightly annoyed, yet excited, and perhaps too lecherous that she comes off as a horny cutie joke bear. “I gotta cum first, or at the same time with you, isn’t it” She seems to be aware of how your body works, and she’s right. You don’t wanna risk being unable to get yourself up again within five minutes, while she waits, unattended.

”Damn, babe, you’ve come prepared.”

”No?, I’m gonna come with you here!” She lets out another laughter, breaking the lustful mood a bit. God, she just can’t go a minute without making a joke. Her pursuit in digging any giggles out just kills you every time, even if that means the problems were hardly addressed, tingling a small part of you on the occurrences.

You sink into the glee with her. “Oh fu— fuck off babe.” But this lustful tryst just drives you into a whirlpool right now. You quickly dispose of your shorts (why the fuck would you guys even wear clothes if you’re just going to fuck after???), freeing your delirious digit.

“God.” Haewon stares at your erect cock in awe, twitching, a glint of concern in her eyes. You wouldn’t say that it’s exactly big, but it’s enough to make her gulp. “Do I have to take all of this?”

“I’ll push slowly.” You replied, panting from the brimming anticipation.

Without a word, Haewon yanks her shorts away. Another stream of her eden, thighs, and the full lower body strikes you. And Haewon is now bare in front of you, glowing, despite her cheap light hanging above. You want to cherish this moment forever, freeze it in time, or at least just slow down a bit. Oh Hae-Won trusts you enough to expose herself, fully, in front of you. And you aren’t sure which gesture can compare to this as her proclamation of love (maybe a marriage proposal, but let’s not get into that yet).

“I thought you’d do it slower”

“All that foreplay got me so fucking turned on, babe, plus, I’m not on the shy side.”

“The nipple sucking?”

“Yeah, that meal you just had. Also, take off that shirt, I wanna feel all of you.”

Ordered, you hastily get rid of the last piece of garment, tossing it into the void, following your shorts. Both of you are now fully naked, only the cold, compressed air is your barrier now.

“Good, now come here” She says with a wink, provocative, commanding, yet so greedy. Haewon is resting on her back, with her elbows lifting her abdomen just a little from the bedsheet, enough to face you without much eye movement, smiling with desire. She bends her left leg a little, and it drives you crazy.

Fuck, she’s the most beautiful woman in the world, perhaps ranked among the gods: Hera, Artemis, Athena, Hestia, and Haewon’s victory is a certainty. She can even go bar for bar against Aphrodite, her own creator, under this cheap room lamp. And you can’t just wait to be tied to this lady with her deity-defying charm with such an intimate act.

“You want my cock that bad, Miss Oh?” You slowly, to make it a tease, slide your knees against the bedsheet towards Haewon, getting closer to her, inch by inch. Haewon opens her leg, giving you permission and space to be in her proximity. Her eden is now in view, glistened with arousal.

“There’s just this thing, ma’am, that I wanna take a sample of first.” Playfulness is attached in your message. She’s still on her elbows, heads slightly tilted at your defiance, as if you also have a god-challenging act in your pocket as well. And with some more inspection, it’s apparent that Haewon isn’t a firm believer in having cleanly-shaved hair, and somehow, this kind of nature just drives you into a frenzy.

“And what is it, mister?” Haewon asks, still with seduction, eyes locking on yours.

“You.” And without another word, you dive face first onto her wet, needy sex. Your nose is pressed against her mound, pubic hair brushes against it, but the “distraction” never succeeds in repelling you away. Further, it feeds the ferocity inside you to take in her scent, with a deep breath. With the sight alone, you thought you reached your limit, yet, spellbound under her musk, a hint of sweat, the honey-scented body wash, and her mildly tart aroma from the inside sends you into a literal mind break, like a morning coffee. Haewon is fucking addictive, and you can’t go a single day without her smell.

“She s–smells good, doesn’t s–she?” Her voice starts to quiver again, as your nose tickles her hair.

Meanwhile, your tongue, with a mind of its own, is lapping up her nectar, savoring the salty, tangy taste of her canal. Her sensitive nub, the one you’re sure it’s clitoris, is now stuck in your philtrum. Every swipe just grazes it, eliciting squeals from her.

“F–fuck.” Haewon cries out, starting to get lost in her immediate pleasure, “Ah.”, and your enthusiasm. “Just f-five minutes babe.”

Mouth busy in a sinful act, you hum an affirmative note out. Her vagina is now coated with your saliva, mixed with her lubricant. And with each time you pull yourself out, there’s sometimes a string of the cocktail connecting your lips to her sex - a thread between you and her.

At first, it’s a savoring session of her taste, for you, but as her wailing grows louder, you can only be curious about the limit. And without hesitation, you give her clitoris a brush - the same way you suck her nipple. As your lips contact, delicate, her moans would reach such a forte to the point you’re quite sure that everyone in the dorm would be able to hear.

Conspiring her frustration, “Want a few more, babe?”, you retreat your ministrations to her pale thighs, making a few marks here and there, robbing the pleasure that was once hers.

“Fuck you.” Haewon groans out. “Please, keep eating my pussy, please.”

You bring your fingers into play, caressing her inner trunks. And, with instinct, you slip yourself under her ass. Your eyes are still locking on her wet hole, and she seems to gush out streams of honey now. “Y–You are f–fucking insuf–” She moans out as you relentlessly withholding the release she deserves.

“Can’t hear with my hands under your ass, babe” It’s as if something possessed you into a womanizer, a shot of complacency.

Haewon would be able to muster up her remaining inhibition to define you with an adjective. “I–Insufferable.”

“That’s a little mean.” Your hands give her firm butt a squeeze, feeling the soft flesh. This is probably how Indiana Jones felt when he got his hand on the golden idol: like an ascendant. “Considering how soft your ass is.” You lick just beside the spot, motioning parallel to the pink labia.

Haewon groans in frustration, climax stolen by a thief. “Sh–shut the fuck up and put that tongue to use!” In forte, all the pent up energy can crush you into bits and pieces in minutes, while you are still drawing circles around your supposed target, pushing her to the edge of wrath, right before it turns into destruction. “FUCK!”

You are actually scared of her now, and perhaps the complaints of her neighbors about some tenant bossing a guest around in the nocturne. So, complying, you put your tongue to use, taking another sample of the mixture, tasting her and yourself again.

“Good boy, yeah, like that.” She whimpered out, being put back en route to paradise.

Constant pace, don’t go too fast. You tell yourself an advice you’ve read somewhere years ago, and you do as it says. You try to keep the speed the same, but it’s starting to get harder as Haewon decides that she needs something to hold on to, which is, unfortunately, your head. I once had a guy go too fast when I told him I’m gonna cum, and that was the ride down, my mood died completely. A comment you’ve seen somewhere pops up.

Your jaw can never get tired, if it is to devour her into ecstasy. But the force pressed upon your head is starting to be a double-edged sword to her, a place to hold on to, and the act that might close the golden gate.

The five minutes she gave earlier might come into use.

“B—babe.” You cry out between licks, voice muffled. “I wanna use my cock now.”

Haewon lets go of the grip she has in your hair locks, as she looks down from her lying position. “Really?” Expectations running high, she asked.

“Yeah.”

“Alright.” She thwarts her arm along the bed for a little while, a little lost, until she catches her colorful spot-covered pillow. And without any word, you help Haewon lift her hips up to insert the fluffy object below, bringing her puckered hole into your focus.

Tranced, “Can I taste it?” the words fell out without any restrictions.

“Don’t fucking kiss me again if you do; I don’t wanna taste my asshole.” Haewon commands, trying to regain her composure. “Maybe another day.”

You whine out. “Ugh, fine.” Before getting on your knees for the main event.

You use her spread thighs as a handle while aiming with your eyes. You line up your twitching digit on the center, resting it on her now-swollen clit. And a small whimper from Haewon would reach your ear, fueling your fire.

“You want this inside you, huh?” You tease, sliding your shaft against her core from the outside, glazing yourself with her honey resting on the nub.

“Fuck… yeah, I—I want it inside.” Haewon chokes out at your heavenly connection; her attempt at putting any façade is crumbling.

Slowly, your rod still above her center, you traverse your hands up her immaculate legs, onto her stomach. Her breaths are now short, out of any earlier rhythm, as your touch starts to overwhelm her senses. “F—fuck.” You’d only move upwards, creeping up her beautiful chest, until they are up for your hands to conquer. She’s yours now.

Now, you have her tits as a grip, ever so carefully fondling them while slowly juggling the movements: your hands squeezing, your hip thrusting, and your upper body leaning in to see her giving in closer and closer. It’s all there, eyes fluttering, lips shaking, loud moaning, and her whole firm frame writhing under you.

You aren’t going in for a kiss, really, but she forces you nonetheless. Hands gripping the sides of your head, Haewon would scream from the overstimulation, all restricted in your mouths, into you, letting out any control she has left.

“Babe.” You mutter out. And even slightly distorted by fervor, she’d break off from the locks under your voice.

Mouth agape, she looks into your eyes, using the final bit of her inhibition to predict your next words. “You can put it in, baby.” And you can only smile.

You guide your rod down to her engine, but neither of you has ever been more ready to ignite the moans. Your left hand has her thigh on the same side as a handle.

Wet, indeed, she welcomes you. The excessive preparation gives easy access, and you become the same groaning lump as she was, swallowed by rapture. In the wake of bliss, you tilt your head down until the sight of your disappearing cock is in the frame, inch by inch.

The insides of her tighten when you reach halfway, and you can feel your tip grazing a rough patch. “Fuck!” Haewon’s body tenses up, and she lets out a higher note than usual. You also pitch a sound lower than hers, but also noticeably higher than your regular octave.

You slowly bury yourself up to the hilt, now able to let go of your flesh. Haewon stutters a moan out when your patch makes contact with her.

“S–Seems like you can handle all of me, babe.” Your voice is quivering, without any movement to your body. You keep yourself whole with her.

Haewon can only whimper in response.

“I-I’ll start fucking you now.” You say as you start to grind your hips back. Haewon nods, giving you the right to control the pace.

Your cock, at an agonizing speed, comes back into view. You can feel the muscles inside gripping you and how the rough patch grazes the top of your digit, evoking staccatos from her. God, anyone would kill to be in your position right now.

And at the halfway point, it’s where you push back in again, still carefully. Haewon surrenders any power she has now, with her g-spot being pleasured by another person for the first time. The suffocating squeeze she has on you persists, sending waves of pleasure around your dick.

It becomes a loop: retreat and thrust, retreat and thrust, and you finally find your rhythm. It’s ecstatic - the way her flesh embraces you. You repay her accommodation with a little angling, aiming for the sensitive patch in the second step. Both of you are lost now, blinded by the passionate endeavor you’re engaging in.

Haewon’s brain can only register euphoria, howling as your tip brushes against the g-spot. And you are no better, bucking hips back and forth, chasing your release while huffing out such notes you could hit before the existence of your Adam’s apple. The only concern now is that your roller coaster would reach its peak before hers.

“Hey, I t–think I’m gonna c–cum now.” Haewon’s words came out tattered, divided by exaltations in her groans. It's a heaven’s message, as you can also feel your climax close by.

Keep your pace; don’t go faster.

You make no attempt to go rougher with your drilling; she’s already a blushing, wailing mess under Allegro Vivace. You can also feel a knot starting to form inside of you, begging to be untangled. “M–Me too, babe.”

Haewon’s moans become even louder than the oral session minutes ago; her orgasm is close by. You can feel the way her vagina contracts around your movements, and you aren’t far from it, either.

Two lost souls search for intimacy, and they eventually find each other. And the mistakes they’ve made don't matter anymore. The people they’ve passed through, either able to find solace or dissonance, have become nothing more than a plot device to drive them forward, for them to meet. And even if the future remains clouded, it’s just them at this exact moment, becoming each other’s sanctuary.

“FUCK!” Haewon cries out. As her hip convulses, bending your digit slightly. She pulls her legs back, feet touching her pale ass before they go up in the air. Haewon cums, violent, ferocious, cathartic. Her whole body tenses up; her tits are shaking. Her walls tighten around you, begging to milk every upcoming drop of you until dry.

You take in the view but can only register a few words to describe how you feel right now: fuck, and god. She screams from the top of her lungs to accommodate such pleasure. And isn’t it a symphony that’s so pleasing to hear, knowing that they are products of your doings?

Haewon’s breathing starts to slow down, but seeing how she becomes undone beneath, you quicken your thrusts to chase the high you’re anticipating. “Fuck!” Under sensitivity, Haewon squeals.

“Do you want me to slow down, babe? I can still cum no matter the pace.” With care, you ask.

“I–I wanna t–try.” Her syllables come out in stutters, “Keep going.”, as your length rams into her cunt even faster than before her high.

You keep your fast, lively tempo, and that seems to be the right choice. You can play the melody faster, yet you already fail to register all the fucks and shits, Haewon mutters out while being pounded. You’re guided by your intuition at this point. It builds up inside your stomach, calling to be broken free. You feel your legs wobbling like jello, and your awareness of whether there’s any left, opposite Haewon’s, has left your body already.

And with a single, final thrust, “FUCK!” you bend yourself down to capture her lips, screeching all the satisfaction from your high into her mouth. Spurts of cum released into her welcoming cunt, while you basically buried yourself inside her, twitching under orgasm. Haewon moans into your mouth at each of your vibrations. Lustful, your tongues are swirling inside each other’s mouth, tasting each other as much as you can.

Thick cum is still discharged into her, painting her insides with white. And slowly, you start to slide down from the precipice. Your cock still twitches inside her cunt; the remaining cum only dribbles out from the hardness now. The kiss remains magnetic; you two are too hungry for each other. You can only taste the mint candy from earlier.

Finally, it breaks, a string of saliva connects your lips together, as both of you are bathed in the afterglow. Haewon’s face is drenched from her own sweat, panting, and smiling. “I love you.” She mouths, trying to make sense of her heart rhythm, soft breaths touching your face.

You’re still panting, attempting to take in her words. Even if they’re the same as from the beginning, when the clothes are still barriers between you, it sears you this time. A lock has been solved, yet you are still questioning the contents inside the box.

Then, you realize that it’s your heart, “I love you too, babe.”, and it can explode right here. Love floods, lust flows, binding you two together, in the vast sea of possibilities.

Haewon smiles before pulling you into another kiss. This one is much less passionate than the ones preceding, but it’s, nonetheless, affectionate. The way she captures your lips is too confident for you to be unsure about the attachment she gives you, and that might be the first time in your life that you’re so certain of someone else’s love, and her name is Oh Hae-Won.

Exhausted and spent, you let yourself fall onto her side, looking up. Your left arm is resting on her collarbones. “Fuck.” Your vocabulary seems to shrink under ecstasy as the cadence rings too loud for you to think properly.

“That was fun.” Haewon scoffs, before turning her bare frame towards you, head resting on her hand. “We should do this more often.”

“Should? I’m fucking you everywhere, babe.” You reaffirm with a simper.

“Shit.” Haewon chuckles before seeming to remember something. She quickly gets up from the bed. “I’ll go pissing first. It’s this–”

“UTI. Yeah, I’ve read about it.” You cut her off to show off your knowledge of sex education. “Can we cuddle after?” You plead, attempting to make a cute face.

“Sure.” She laughs, pointing at you. “If you don’t mind having your back getting a bit wet.”, and you can only smile back at her. Haewon would saunter out to her bathroom with a slight limp, managing to sway her reddened cheeks. Fuck.

And despite the low light, you can see drops of your cum, dribbling a shine down her legs. “Are you going to clean th–”

“No.” She winks before disappearing into the bathroom, leaving a trail of nectar in her path.

You bite your lip in another rise of your arousal.

–

You hear the sound of tap water running from inside the bathroom before the lock clicks. Haewon appears in front of your eyes again, still naked.

“I kept the promise.” She says.

Immediately, still on her bed, you press your vision down her body. Her pussy remains glistened with your white cum, mixed with her tangy lubricant. Perhaps your saliva is also blended into the liquid.

“God, Haewon.” Again, your mind goes blank. “It has been just five minutes. I really can’t do that.”

Haewon chuckles, swaying her alluring hips closer to you. “I know.” Before she pounces you on the bed, staining the sheets with your fluids. Haewon prints a few kisses here and there, usually in the proximity of your lips and neck. And, in disbelief, you watch over her body to see that the five-minute gap is enough for your cock to be ready again.

“Fuck.”

Haewon’s glance follows yours to your erection.

“Another round, babe?”

–

Six: Just Another Girl

–

Now why can’t I sleep at night?

And why don’t the moon look right?

–

Sunlight peeks through the gap in your curtains, casting on the blanket that’s covering any visual hints of last night’s debauchery. Her arms retain their restrictive nature, an environment you’d enthusiastically enlist for. Her fingers barely interlocking on your heart, feeling the thrumming lullaby she holds on to like the greatest hits.

Her chest is pressed against your back, and the fact that you notice this (and how you savored their peaks last night with such unbeatable hunger) only entices your morning wood to last longer than it should’ve. You snuggle into her embrace further, establishing yourself as hers and pressing yourself into her perky breasts even harder, wanting to feel every inch of them.

“Hmm?” Haewon finally wakes up, fading her tightness wrapped around you.

Slightly panicked, you grab her escaping hand onto your warm skin. “Hey.” And you greeted her.

Haewon chuckles. “Oh, this boy needs a hug, huh?”

You close your eyes and hum in agreement, since her embrace becomes another gesture you’ve grown to love now, even if it was discovered just a few minutes ago.

“How was last night, my baby boy?” She questioned you with a tiny simper.

You can only chuckle along. “Cathartic, babe, but I’m not doing the whole mommy thing right now.”

Haewon laughs. “Okay, fine, I’ll ask you properly later, though.”

The cuddle went on for minutes. You are unwilling to let her go after such intimacy you had. After a while, you notice the scar on your chest. This may be the time you show her, but you need bravery. And you’re not sure if love could muster it up.

[A paragraph demonstrating Haewon’s good influence on you and how you’ve influenced her]

“I wanna tell you something, with us being this bare and such.” You gathered a little courage to speak up, adamantly attempting to show her your so-called scar.

Haewon would let out a tiny chuckle at your cheap joke. “Unload them to me, babe.” She lets out another tiny chuckle, resting her head on a makeshift stand of her fist. You can’t help but join along with her.

“Oh my god, fuck you.” You said, along with a laugh.

“You just did.”

“Okay, okay, I’ll start now, don't distract me this ti—" You let out a small giggle, as she’s still soaked in her own hilarity. “It’s like seven years of story; trust me, it’s more fun than you’d think.”

“Seven years? Is it like, a long-term heartbreak or something, and what’s with you making everything into a story, catastrophic or not.” Haewon asks.

“Well—” You contemplate - whether to spoil the ending for her or not, but she can probably guess by the way you purposefully hold out the information in lieu of instantly answering. “Seven years ago, in late April, I just started high school.”

You can see the late morning sunlight reflected in her eyes, single-minded on your tale.

“You want me to close the curtains first?” You direct your thumb toward the gap.

“No need, plus, you look better with the light.” She smiles, sincerity can be felt from it, maybe it’s the way the light drapes on your right half of her face.

“Thanks, babe, okay, where was I— Yeah, seven years ago, late April, high school.”

–

“And then I met you.”

“You know that you’re the asshole in this one, right?” Haewon hits you with such a question.

Certainty of a weeping eluded, “Fuck, not even a single tear?”

“Wow, this lack of self-awareness is concerning, babe, and this is out of love.” She scoffs. “You’re the bad guy here.”

“Look, I’ve been telling myself about the same statement since that day, so yeah, Haewon, I’m aware that I’m the asshole in this story.”

“Were you hurt by it or something?” Haewon asks with genuine curiosity, she caught the sadness in your tone, yet unable to make sense of it. Her head remains resting on her fist, albeit making a ninety degrees apart from you.

“I— yeah, I know it was my fault, but—“ You avert her gaze, staring at the blanket covering her midriff. “It was five years, almost. And it still hurts sometimes whenever I see something that reminds me of her.”

Haewon would give you a blank expression; her next words are unpredictable.

“I kinda— get the idea? You can’t deal with college life, so she becomes a–no, the source for you to vent shit. And one day, it became too much, with that fight making it wor–no, apparent.” It’s nothing short of incredible that she gets all of it within the first iteration and gives you the much-needed feedback (even if you’ve already considered this possibility).

“And she wants you to get better. She didn’t think she could be the person you could rely on anymore. This is how I see it.” With ease, Haewon recounts the most plausible explanation, the one you’ve been avoiding accepting.

“Yeah, it’s…” You resist the urge to argue with her point, realizing that such emotional manipulation cannot work. Perhaps the amount of self-awareness poured in just doesn’t work anymore. “You’re right.”

“There’re some points that I… kinda understand you? Like the whole being insecure stuff, but all of this is just a shitshow, babe. You even write a fic about it.” A tiny simper leaves her mouth.

“Spielberg made a film about his parent’s divorce; Taylor Swift has, well…”

“Steven’s was like… sixty years? And I think Taylor can be an asshole, to be honest, aside from All Too Well.” Haewon replied without a delay.

“Agree to disagree.” You can only sigh afterward, and maybe it’s the way your breath taps on her chest more heavily than it should or the way you avert the eye contact you’ve been maintaining.

“Hey, are you okay?” Her doe eyes hints concern, while the fingers lightly caress your cheek.

Destined, your tears well up just a little, but enough for you to detect and hold back. “Kinda.”

Haewon lets out a sigh, the back of her free fingers still fondling your cheek. “I’m sure you’ve changed.”

“It's been more than two years now.” Your lips quiver. “B–But telling you here, it’s just…”

Like the first time with your therapist, like the first time you tell your colleagues, your tears are always on the hinge as the story ends.

“I know I can’t fix it - this whole weird love-hate relationship of yours.” She finally sits up. “But I know you aren’t the person you were.” Your cheeks are suddenly cupped by both of her hands. “And as long as you… try to be better, I’ll be with you.” Haewon ends her speech with a caring look.

Nothing in her deliverance is poetry-worthy; they’re basic quotes you’d find in the self-help books. Though, the words not coming from some self-centered guy melts the cynic inside you, and that’s when tears start to fall.

“I also know that it hurts, even if you’re the one who’s wrong.” She softly cheers up.

Through the sobs, “Y–You’re quite di–direct, babe.” You try to wipe the tears off your watering eyes.

She lets out a sympathetic titter. “I’m not the best at this, sorry.”

“I-It’s fine. Thanks for being here.” You succumb to the lamentation, crying your heart out, as Haewon embraces you. Maybe it’s the way you’re naked on someone else’s bed, maybe it’s the way her chest presses up against your chin, or perhaps it’s the way she puts her leg over yours as if she’s using a side pillow, but you’ve never felt more vulnerable in your life. And you’re probably being engulfed by it under the right person.

–

Epilogue: Keeping Tabs

–

I wish I never met you.

You are the worst thing that I’m still

Keeping tabs on for some stupid reason.

–

“It’s quite a lot of stations, babe. Are you sure about this?”

“Yeah–”

It was your birthday two days ago. How old are you now, twenty-five? Three years after graduation, you rejected a job offer from Japan because you didn't want to leave your girlfriend. Not that it was a wrong choice, since the number of fights, sex, and after-fight, angry, heated sex between you and Haewon sits on the average rate.

Further, not having to buy a plane ticket every time you want to see your parents, or your friends is definitely a plus. Just a few hours after the plane landed in Narita, you want to break Japan’s immigration law. God, those streets are miles better than what you have at home.

It seems that trying to reach Odaiba Beach from Meguro Sky Garden takes an hour, plus walking. Sure, it’s ninety minutes to sunset, but you can feel doubts in her voice and your own. It’s the few final days, and all of your words hyping this exact place up only make her feral.

“Maybe we can make it if we start walking now, instead of like– arguing over this.”

Haewon shoots you a glare. “This trip would go to waste if we can’t make it before sunset.” And she takes a step towards you, pointing at your chest. The sun still casts a long shadow of her on the ground.

“Waste?” You arch your eyebrows. “Says the one who spent a whole fucking day at Shinjuku to sweep Uniqlo’s stocks.”

The wind blows over the metal fence, assorted colors of leaves swirling around you.

Her eyes remain fixated on you, before giving an apologetic expression. “Yeah that’s fair. It’s a bit of a quickfire for me on that.”

You snap a photo of her before replying. “Those cardigans are cheaper here anyway, don’t worry.”

She reaches for your camera, X-E4, examining the image of her, and smiles. “Let’s go.” Before leading you, handheld, to the elevator down from the garden.

–

“God.”

“It seems like we’re here at the right time” You speak, before taking another photo of Haewon, showered under the orange of the setting sun.

Haewon is left speechless at the sight in front of her: Rainbow Bridge, salmon sky from the sunset, tinged with clouds, some purple, red, orange. You think it’s probably from some kind of refraction. People aren’t scarce, but to say that there’s a crowd is an overstatement. It’s pretty much the same as in your memory from five years ago. How are the people in my photos doing now?

Similar to the last time, when the breakup was just over a month, you take in the view. It’s just that you aren’t basked in melancholy anymore. Sure, you’re still keeping tabs on her every few months, but it’s nothing more than a blocklist check. You aren’t ready to face Minji, really, and not seeing each other again would be a kind gesture by the gods. However, the hate etched into your wrists isn’t quite as visible anymore.

Still, you can’t play down her impact on your life. In spite of the indirect nature of the teachings, you learned how to love and what to do with one.

“I’ll be back, babe. I’ll see if I can swim to the bridge from here.” Haewon speaks out, like the first encounter, snapping you out of your trance.

Shook, “I’ll wait here; make sure not to get swept into the sea.”, and you joke, smiling.

“See ya.” Haewon grins back, gesturing a goodbye, before stepping out towards the water.

–

[A few paragraphs leading up to the encounter with Minji again; yeah, it’s a little anticlimactic for you to see this in your first read, sorry]

You failed to say a word to her, and there may not be any second chance for this.

It’s funny, miles away from where you’ve feared most. No soul in the world would’ve expected this.

The sun continues on its path, too busy rushing to make its predetermined setting time, ergo apathetic to the colors it casts onto the sky and the way Minji is elegantly bathed by it. Her features are frozen, you alike, mouth slightly ajar. Waves crashing onto the sand keep filling in the silence between you, each encouraging your heart to push out a syllable you’re choking. There’s no battle on who would give in to snapping back into reality first since the argument on the encounter being a dream is too plausible.

Though less often as time goes on, Minji has been your recurring nocturnal figure. Occasionally, she appears as the one who has disregarded your cries during those final days – unresponsive, cold, unaware of your collapse. If not, it’s you and her enamored in what you’ve always wanted her to see, conversing like high school students again. Either way, you usually classify the world surrounding you as nightmares after the alarms are off, almost always with tears welling and ragged breaths, as if her presence alone is enough to give vitality to your nights.

But if this is a lucid dream, both of you would’ve laughed by now, under the Odaiba Beach sunset. Memories are washed away into the sea, making way for you to run along the shoreline, free from any grievances. You wouldn’t go as far as saying that it could’ve been her on the flight here with you, even if the potential of it touches you in more than one way.

The bewilderment of meeting her in where’s supposed to be your sanctuary hasn’t faded one bit. It clouds the fact that she has preserved her high ponytail. She grips her denim jacket ever so tightly while slightly parting aside from the center, revealing a pitch-black turtleneck shirt beneath. The brown string crossing her body is holding her likely expensive handbag resting on the side of her hips. All of these are topped with beige, all-creased pants, undercut with sneakers of the same color, or not, you don’t seem to care anymore.

Voice notes and texts are woven into a tapestry, the one you and she cut as your paths diverged. Yet, your threads, somehow, have been remaining set to interlock with each other again after all this time. The track was divided into a parallel, just with a sea of hatred, sometimes reflecting a spark of care.

It’s still clear as day, the way she left you blind, likely without remorse, any glimmer of hope was eradicated with blocks on social media. The way you tell the version of your story enough times for you to find the median and average spot where people would start to cry. And not that you were left unshaken with each iteration; you just stop before giving in to the sorrow hanging off the edge of your tear ducts. And at one point, it became another tale, a cult classic to you.

Still, this is no place and time to assert your wounds anymore. It’s Tokyo, and five years have passed. Getting one over her shouldn’t matter anymore, you know that. What’s left to achieve in triumph is just plunging the dagger into yourself once more, revisiting how shaken you have been without her for all these years. And three, you’re the one on the wrong side.

Plus, it’s not so awful that she left, even if it casts you in a state of bereft in the first few months. You deleted her photos, and both of you blocked each other. You learned to collect yourself up again, shredding what was once shared while coming to terms with the ones rooted in the essence of you, learning to let them be shared with others. The cadence doesn’t entirely sound like it was, yet it’s what you’ve accepted as days pass.

You still hate her; it’s a known fact. I fucking hate you rings true to this day - a half-thought during a fire burned into your wrists, calling out to be crossed off. Guilt, shame, and self-loathing have been rooting off it, yet you can’t bleed the source out.

In the shadows that the sun cast, you feel a twitch in the corner of your mouth - the determination to conceal any hints of glee at her presence is trying to keep itself afloat. Another gulp in your throat only delays the inevitable; your cheek is trembling from an unknown feeling. It’s teasing the brim. It’s tasting the uncertainty. It’s towering over your hatred. And it brings the nocturnal summer wind that embraced you on the first day at high school, the day she picked up her name tag when everything was in the right place.

“Kim Min-Ji.” Your teacher called as she stood up to pick up her name tag.

“I like you.”

And it flows through you–

“Him? Not really.”

“God, you suck at badminton.” You did “outscore” her by quite a margin (twenty-one to six).

–all the words you’ve said–

“I’ll probably be a doctor. You haven’t chosen yours yet?”

–all the words she has said–

“I think she’s the one.” (She wasn’t.)

“These early mornings are killing me.” Her high school project was killing her.

“Yeah, I can’t be bothered with all this studying. I’ll probably make some nice portfolio and pray.”

–all the dreams drawn together–

“If someone wants to enter here, they can just look at these pics and follow the instructions. It might not be for everyone, I guess. I still wish I could help them, though.”

“I really fucked up a lot during quarantine, like my mental state was dwindling.”

“Now I’m going to be a tired doctor all my life.” She scoffs, downplaying her success.

“This place is filled with rich people.”

–all the struggles vented–

“God, I look so pretty in this.” The red lipstick looks good on her; you wish you knew the exact shade.

“We need to recreate this photo; you stand here.”

“See ya.” She said, not knowing it would be the last time you would see each other face to face.

“Really fucking drunk right nowww, just wanna say you’re one of the best friends I’ve ever had, like definitely top five, haha.” It was a drunk text in a bar under the blaring music.

–all the love proclaimed–

“I’ll probably have to study another year. You’re still invited to my graduation, though. We’d be like twenty-six by then, right?”

“I’m sorry.”

“I shouldn’t have done that, too.”

“I fucking hate you.” The line that became a part of you ever since.

–and the ending.

“Don’t message me anymore; just go live your life separately. Have a pleasant life.”

Are you sure to delete 525 photos permanently?

This action cannot be undone.

Delete Permanently

It’s as if someone made a supercut of you two.

It's excruciating, the way it seeps through your brain, the same one that hung you to be ravaged by the abyss. A wave of serotonin washes over your face, sheathed within the Tokyo Bay’s serenity. And a smile forms, over five years of her name being a crucifixion. It’s you breaking the cadence, and you can only beg her to accept it.

Alas, you have never been in the position to ask for anything. You’ve always been the convict in the sad songs supposed to bury you under their alphabets, robbing the sorrow you meant to drown into. You are her mistake, one that she’s likely so enthusiastic to cross off in her diary.

Yet, under the setting sun, in such a foreign place, and after years of it, maybe she forgets, maybe she forgives, or perhaps she doesn’t care about it. But if even it is written in the sand of Odaiba Beach, it would also be etched on the same wound you see on your pulse, that Kim Min-Ji reciprocates your smile, with a chuckle even, back bent forward the same way you remember to accommodate such elation.

And free from conviction, you are. It’s not the late-night, thumbs-on-keyboard kind of relationship anymore, neither being two free spirits against the world; it’s two people, unshackled from grudges. It’s the closure in the same veins of La La Land, a tapestry of love remains, despite the zeroes and ones translated as blocks, plus the frontal lobe chemicals interpreted as detestations. There has always been a part of you that cares - under the miles of self-loathing from guilt and the despise entrenched in you.

As cued, the setting sun is refracted in the drop of tear grazing your left cheek. She seems fine, even if she’s drowned in her droplets, thirty, forty, or fifty—you aren’t sure anymore—meters away from the idyllic waves. It won’t be the same, and it can never be. Years of walling each other out only dims any remaining glimmer. But here you are, under the Tokyo sun, laughing and crying on such an unfortunate encounter.

You aren’t fourteen again. It doesn’t feel like the first day or the first words of you two. It’s two grief-stricken adults with a shared past. Both cannot hold on to their grudges, though, just you being an asshole for having them.

You aren’t her mistake after all, and she’s not your mistake anymore.

And it’s not witty, but it would suffice.

“Hey.”

—

“That was her, right?”

“Yeah.”

“How was it? I see that you guys were kinda smiling.”

You ponder for a moment, a little too long before Haewon would ask again.

“It ends well, right?”

“I suppose so.”

—

I need to get over you.

—

#minji angst #newjeans angst #haewon smut #nmixx smut #kpop fanfic

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wosoluver · 2 months ago

Text

Oh, baby

Georgia Stanway x reader.

I know nothing about giving birth so bare with me. Also please don't kill me for the plot changes, Hope you like it!

Other players masterlist

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"Fuck!" you said feeling the warm liquid run down your legs. "No, no, no." You were staying over at her parents' house. Tomorrow would be the final match at the 2023 world cup and you would be gathered to watch the game there.

"Jo! We need to go, my water just broke!" you said grabbing her mother's attention. Her dad had gone to Australia to support her, but her mom refused leaving you, pregnant and alone. And you thanked the universe. You were 36 weeks, you were to give birth only next month. You had been feeling small contractions, that were apparently normal in the third trimester.

That was the only reason Georgia agreed to go.

A million thoughts went through your mind. Would the baby be okay? Would they have to do a C-section?

Would your fiancé be okay, knowing she missed the moment se was waiting so excited for? Were you even ready for this?

You started to cry immediately.

"Don't worry love, I'm calling her as soon as you're in the hospital."

"No please! You can't! You know her!" you said followed by a scream when you felt the sharp pain of a contraction hit you. "Please, please wait as much as we can. This is important for her, she needs to be a hundred percent focused."

"But seeing her daughter's birth is too..."

"I know but even if she knows, she'll won't get here in time. Please."

She only nodded agreeing with you. And you asked her to call your parents instead.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

While you walked around the room, preparing yourself for the ride ahead, in attempt to stay sound, you thought about what had led you here.

You and Georgia had been together for almost six years.

You had met at Man City, both came from a small town and were around the same age, sharing the dream to become big players.

You started dating, and your relationship went through a lot.

You endured for years a long distance relationship, when you moved away to play in Spain and she stayed back in Manchester.

A couple of seasons later you transferred to Bayern, where your girlfriend soon followed suit.

And you both finally managed to start your life together.

She didn't want to wait any longer, all that time had been enough.

From living together to her proposing, life felt like pure bliss.

And after the 2022 euro's title, you felt like it was the right time to have a pause on your career.

It wasn't an easy decision, since the World Cup was around the corner.

But differently from your teammates, you now had a bigger dream, Georgia fully supported you, she herself had always wanted to be a mother.

You didn't expect for it to work so soon.

Along with the risks the doctors had told you, it could take more than one try.

Fortunately the whole pregnancy had been very healthy, and nothing gave you any reason to think something like this could happen.

You questioned yourself if you were doing the right thing, by not updating her on the matter.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Georgia's head was buzzing, Spain was winning by a goal. England had slightly recovered at the end of first half, but it wasn't enough.

She sat on the locker room, trying to cool down, zoning out a bit. All she could think of was winning this, to come home as a champion. For her girls.

She could have never imagined you had been in the hospital for the last couple of hours, let alone giving birth. So she didn't bother to look for her phone.

And before she knew, she was walking back to the field for the second half.

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

"Just one more push, yeah?"

And you did as a loud cry filled the room. And they placed her right on your chest.

You felt like you could pass out from how tired you were.

But you couldn't, yet.

"You did great darling." her mom cooed you in between tears.

"Is the game over yet?"

"Yes, they won second place." she handed your phone over.

You cried hard a the sound of that. She had been deprived of being champion and seeing her daughter's first moments in the same day, at the same time. You tried to recompose yourself while you pressed to facetime her.

ongoing call...

"Hey love, what took you so lon-" she managed to get out before shutting up at the realization. A big smile appearing in her tear stained face. "She's beautiful."

before she could say anything else, Lucy, who was prying at the video call, loudly announced to everyone.

"The baby is here!" and you could hear the girls cheering loudly. Running to try and congratulate you.

"You guys are so loud, geez." your soon to be wife said after a few moments, walking to a more private place, so you both could talk.

"I am so sorry." you said eyes filled with tears.

"We couldn't have known." she said giving you a reassuring smile. "I was going to show you this baby here," showing her silver medal at the camera. "But it seems like you're already holding our baby right there."

And for over ten minutes you two sat quietly, just admiring the angel you had brought into the world.

"Is she okay? I mean she clearly looks like it, but since she's early..."

"Better than expected actually. They said she's around 6.30 lbs and over 19 inches. Pretty big for a preterm. They'll run some tests in the morning, just to be sure." you said letting out a yawn.

"You need to get some sleep. And I'm getting on the first plane home."

"I love you, and I'm so proud of you."

"Oh baby, I'm the one who's proud. I love you. Both of you."

──✩₊⁺⋆☾⋆⁺₊✧──

Maybe another part with G meeting baby Talia?

like & share pls!

#woso x reader #georgia stanway x reader #georgia stanway #lionesses x reader

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writetheidea · 2 months ago

Text

Shadows of the past

Hello, I made this blog solely to publish this fan fiction I wrote because the idea for the plot has been tugging at the back of my mind for months. I tried requesting it from a few writers but since they didn’t write it I remained unsatisfied. Then I remembered I also do have the ability to write.

This was thought of as a one shot. Upon receiving positive feedback and requests, a second part has been written.

Part 2

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x named!female character

Plot: Oscar's new relationship is strained by his family's constant reminders of his ex, Lily, and he fails to notice how this is affecting his girlfriend.

Tag: angst, hurt/no comfort, sad ending.

Word count: 2989

Disclaimers: english is not my first language - I feel like you could tell from my writing style - so I apologize if some of the sentences structures are off, or if I use outdated or inappropriate-for-the-context words, I used a synonym dictionary to try and stop myself from repeating the same words, I still did do that though. I also haven’t written any work of fiction since I was a teenager, so this could be bad, I just had a need to get this fan fiction out of my brain. And once I wrote it, it felt like a waste to keep it on my laptop.

The new girlfriend has a name as I wasn’t able to write this without a name, I apologize, I made it a shorter name so it can be skimmed over. There is no physical description of them.

I would like to explain that I do not think that Oscar's family would behave this way. This idea came from watching Nicole's interview in which she spoke highly about Lily and an unrelated conversation that day about families still speaking about and with ex-girlfriends.

Oscar sat in his motorhome, absentmindedly scrolling through social media notifications and posts. He wasn’t really paying attention to them. His mind was already on the track, anticipating the feel of the car and revising the strategies for the weekend. But, even as he tried to focus on the race ahead, something distracted him at the back of his mind. Something he couldn’t quite put his finger on yet, something that had been running in his head for weeks.

Across from him, Mia sat quietly, going through her phone, though he knew it wasn’t holding her attention either. She hadn’t said much all day, her silence stretching thin between them like a thread on the verge of snapping. It wasn’t like her. At least, it wasn’t like how she used to be. When they first met, Mia had been a burst of energy, her laughter infectious, her smile like a safe heaven that had pulled him out of the chaos of being a public figure. But now… something had changed.

"Oscar, did you hear what I said?" Mia’s voice was soft, almost hesitant, her eyes searching his face for any sign that he had been paying attention to what she had been saying. But he hadn't.

Oscar blinked, eyes tearing away from his phone. "Sorry, darling. What did you say?"

Mia smiled, a small, strained smile that didn’t reach her eyes. "I was asking if you wanted to go out for dinner later. You know, somewhere quiet, just the two of us. I found this place…"

Oscar nodded absentmindedly, his attention already drifting away. "Yeah, sure. Sounds good."

Mia noticed his lack of attention, but she didn’t press the issue. She had grown used to his distracted responses over the past few months, so she just sat there, her fingers gripping her phone a little too tightly, and the silence between them growing heavier. It had been like this for a while now—Oscar lost in his racing, and Mia fading quietly into the background, unnoticed.

It wasn’t always like this. There was a time when his attention had been solely hers, when Oscar had looked at her with the kind of focus he reserved for the track. Lately, though, she had started to feel like she was slipping out of view, like she was losing her place in his world. And Oscar, so wrapped up in his career, didn’t see it. Not yet.

-----

It had started subtly, in ways Mia hadn’t been able to notice at first. When she had met Oscar, she knew this relationship wouldn’t have resembled her previous ones; she was stepping into a world of fame, pressure, and expectations. But she had been prepared for that—at least, she thought she had been.

The first time she had met Oscar’s family had been over a casual dinner. Nicole had been polite, her eyes studying Mia a little closely but never purely cold. And then there were his sisters, who seemed stuck between curiosity and indifference, their questions friendly but calculated.

It wasn’t until halfway through the meal that Mia first heard the name.

“Do you remember when Lily got us pizza in Monza?” Hattie had asked with a deliberate tone, her gaze flickering toward Oscar.

Mia had frozen for a second, her fork suspended midair. Lily. She had heard the name before, of course, Oscar had talked about her, the ex-girlfriend who had been with him through his early career. Mia hadn’t worried about her, assuming she was just part of his past.

“Oh, yeah,” Mae chimed in, laughing. “From that little family-run restaurant, right? God, I miss that place.”

Nicole smiled, her eyes lighting up. “Lily was always so thoughtful. She always knew how to make us feel at home, no matter where we were.”

Mia’s chest tightened, the casual and affectionate mention of Lily, compared to how she had been addressed throughout the evening, slicing through the conversation like a shard of ice. She forced herself to smile, to nod along, pretending it didn’t bother her. But it did more than she wanted to admit.

Oscar had shifted uncomfortably beside her, clearing his throat. “Yeah, Lily was great” he had said quickly, then tried to change the subject. But the damage was done. The ghost of Lily hung over the rest of the evening like a shadow, lingering at the edges of every conversation and Mia’s mind.

-----

As the months passed, Mia couldn’t shake the feeling that she was living in someone else’s place, that no matter how much Oscar claimed to love her, no matter how much she tried to integrate herself into his life, she was no comparison to Lily. It wasn’t that his family was blatantly rude towards her, they were kind, but there was a warmth in their voices when they spoke about Lily that they didn’t extend to Mia.

Every race weekend, every family gathering, even every private moment with Oscar was tainted in her mind by the weight of someone else’s ghost.

It wasn’t until one afternoon in Monaco, when Mia stumbled across the ring, that the full weight of it hit her.

She had been tidying the bedroom while Oscar was out, taking advantage of the free time to clean the apartment, cleaning up a drawer of old clothes when she found it—a small, velvet box. Her heart had skipped a beat as she opened it, revealing a stunning diamond ring.

Her breath caught in her throat.

She wasn’t unrealistic, Mia knew this wasn’t meant for her, her relationship with Oscar still too young to warrant a proposal. No. This ring wasn’t for her. It had been bought for someone else. For Lily.

Mia closed the box with trembling hands, her chest tightening as the realization washed over her. Oscar had been planning to marry Lily. He had been ready to propose, to make her his wife, to share his life with her in a way that as of lately Mia wasn’t sure he would ever want to with her.

She had never brought it up to Oscar. She couldn’t. How could she confront him about something like this? How could she admit that she had found evidence of a future he had once planned with someone else, a future that might have happened if things hadn’t fallen apart between them?

From that day on, the weight of it pressed down on her like a constant reminder. She tried to ignore it, to push the self doubt away, to remind herself it was all part of the past. But every time Oscar’s family mentioned Lily, every time they talked about her like she was still part of their world, Mia felt herself slipping further away from the confident, energetic woman she had once been.

-----

The Monaco GP was supposed to be a new start. Mia had somewhat convinced herself that her doubts were unreasonable, that her presence in Oscar’s life was concrete. She had been trying so hard to convince her mind, to smile through the subtle slights, to act as if Lily’s constant presence in conversations didn’t bother her. But Monaco was different. Monaco was where everything changed.

The paddock was buzzing with energy as usual, the yachts in the harbor reflecting the morning sun. Mia stood beside Oscar, her hand in his as they made their way through the crowd. Fans called out to him, snapping photos, but Mia barely noticed. Her attention was elsewhere—on the small group standing near the McLaren garage.

There stood Oscar’s family. And Lily.

Mia felt her heart skip at the sight. Lily was just standing there, laughing with Nicole, looking as comfortable and at ease as she had in all the stories Mia had had to listen to in the past months. She was so effortlessly beautiful, with an air of confidence that Mia had always admired but now found unbearable.

Nicole’s eyes found Oscar, lighting up as she waved him over. “Oscar, darling! Come say hello.”

Mia felt herself stiffen, her stomach twisting into knots. Oscar hesitated for a moment, glancing at Mia before offering her a quick, apologetic smile. “I’ll just be a minute,” he murmured, squeezing her hand before walking over to his family. To her.

Mia couldn’t bring herself to do anything but watch as he greeted them, his interactions with Lily casual but friendly, too friendly in her doubt filled mind. It was like watching him slip into an old role, a role he played with ease, with a counterpart Mia couldn’t quite replace.

They talked for what felt like hours, though it had only been minutes. Mia stood there, frozen as her heart pounded in her chest as she watched Oscar laugh at something Lily said, as his mother beamed at them, as if this was how things were supposed to be. As if Mia was the outsider, the intruder in a story that had never been hers to begin with.

-----

That night, the silence in their room was deafening.

Oscar had been talking about the race, but Mia hadn’t been able to focus. She hadn’t really said much all weekend, her responses short and her mind elsewhere.

“Mia?” Oscar called, his brows furrowed as he looked at her. “Is everything okay?”

She just stared at him for a moment, unsure of how to put her thoughts into words, unsure of how to explain the feelings that had made a home in her mind. “Oscar… Do you ever think about her?”

He frowned, confused. “Who?”

“Lily,” Mia whispered, voice barely audible. “Do you still think about her? About… what could have been?”

Oscar blinked, startled by the question. “Mia, no. Of course not. I’m with you now.”

She shook her head, as she fought her anxiety and tried to gather the courage to say what had been haunting her mind for months. "You say that, Oscar, but… it feels like I’m always competing with her, against her presence in your life. And I don’t know how to stop feeling like I’m constantly fighting against someone who’s not even here anymore."

Oscar’s expression softened as he stepped toward her, one of his hands reaching out to gently cup her face. "Mia, you are not. I don't think about Lily like that anymore. That part of my life is over."

"Is it?" Mia’s voice cracked, her eyes searching his for the reassurance she so desperately needed. "Because I’m not sure your family feels the same way. They still talk about her, still invite her to races. Nicole talks about her like she could still be a part of your life, like she is supposed to be a part of your life. And Oscar… I found the ring."

Oscar’s hand dropped from her face, his eyes widening in shock. "What ring?"

"The one in your drawer," Mia said, her voice trembling. "The engagement ring. The one you bought for her."

Oscar froze, his breath catching in his throat. "Mia… I didn’t mean for you to find that. I—I should have gotten rid of it a long time ago."

"Why didn’t you?" she asked. "Why didn’t you get rid of it if you had moved on? You kept it, Oscar, that has to mean something. And every time she is brought up, every time I notice her presence still somewhat in your life, I feel like I’ll never be good enough. Like I’m standing in her shadow, no matter what I do."

Oscar sighed deeply, running a hand through his hair as he sat on the edge of the bed. "Mia, I didn’t keep the ring because I still have feelings for her. I kept it because… I never knew what to do with it. You are right, I did want to propose to Lily at some point, I couldn’t see that our relationship was dying, I was trying to deny it. But I didn’t propose in the end. I realized it wasn’t right. I never told you because I didn’t want to hurt you."

Mia hugged herself, staring at the floor. "But it does hurt now, Oscar. And it hurts every time they bring her up, every time they talk about how perfect she was, how much they loved her. It feels like I’m just… filling a spot that’s still meant for her."

Oscar stood up and reached for her again, his voice carrying an underlying urgency. "Mia, you’re not filling a space. I love you. I want to be with you. I thought you knew that."

"I thought I did too," she whispered, tears filling her eyes. "But… I don’t know anymore. And I feel like I’m losing myself trying to live up to the memory of someone I’m not while you didn’t even notice how much it’s been affecting me."

Oscar’s heart sank as he took in her words, the weight of his and his family’s actions finally settling on his shoulders. He had known that they still cared for Lily, but he hadn’t understood how much it had been hurting Mia. And he hadn’t noticed how distant she had become, how her bright light had started to dim under the constant comparisons.

He sat back down, hands resting in his lap as he stared at the floor. "Mia, I’m sorry. I didn’t realize… I didn’t know it was this bad."

Mia took a deep, shaky breath, tears staining her face. "You didn’t. I don’t know if I can keep doing this, Oscar. I love you, so much so that I have been willing to hurt myself to be with you, but I can’t keep feeling like I’m not enough. Like I’ll never be enough."

Oscar looked up at her, desperation in his eyes at the implications of her words. "You are enough, Mia. You’ve always been enough."

She shook her head, wiping her eyes. "If I was enough, your family wouldn’t still be holding onto Lily. They wouldn’t be talking about her like she’s still the one for you… They wouldn’t make me feel like I’m always in second place in a one person competition."

Oscar felt his throat tighten, his guilt and frustration rising to the surface. He had been so focused on his career, on the races, that he hadn’t noticed how much this had been affecting Mia. And now, standing in front of him, she looked so lost, so hurt, that he wasn’t sure how to fix it.

"I’ll talk to them," he said, his voice firm. "I’ll make sure they understand. They can’t keep doing this to you—to us. I’ll set boundaries. I don’t want to lose you, Mia."

Mia’s gaze softened for a moment, but the pain in her eyes was still there. "It’s not just about them, Oscar. It’s about how I’ve been feeling invisible, like I don’t matter as much in your life. I don’t know if talking to them will change how I feel about myself now. I don’t know if it’ll be enough to fix this."

Oscar’s heart clenched. He could see the cracks in their relationship now, the ones he had been too blind to notice before. And he realized, with a sinking feeling, that this wasn’t something he could just fix with a few words or promises. This was deeper.

"What do you want me to do?" he asked quietly, his voice almost breaking. "Tell me what I can do to make this right."

Mia stood there for a long moment, staring at him, the weight of the decision she had come to after months of suffering heavy on her shoulders. She loved him, she had given everything to this relationship, but the constant reminders of his past with Lily had killed her confidence, her sense of security.

"I think…" she began, her voice shaky, "I think I need some time. Time to figure out if I can keep doing this, if I can keep being in this relationship without losing myself further."

Oscar felt a chill run through him at her words. "Mia, please don’t say that. Don’t say you’re leaving."

"I’m not leaving," she clarified, though the look in her eyes betrayed her uncertainty of their future. "But I need space. I need time to think about what’s best for me, because right now… I don’t feel like I’m good for you. And I don’t feel like this is good for me."

Oscar’s chest tightened painfully as he stepped toward her, his hands trembling as he reached for hers. "I love you. I don’t want to lose you."

Tears spilled from Mia’s eyes again as she looked down at their hands. "I love you too, Oscar. But love isn’t enough if I don’t feel like I belong in your life. If I don’t feel like your family accepts me. Like I can accept myself."

He swallowed hard, fighting his own tears. "I’ll make them understand. I’ll fight for us."

She pulled her hands away gently, taking a step back. "I need to fight for myself first."

Oscar felt the floor drop from under him as Mia turned toward the door. She paused for a moment, her hand resting on the doorknob, before looking back at him with tears in her eyes.

"Please don’t hate them," she whispered. "I know they didn’t mean to hurt me. But… they did. And I don’t know how to fix that."

And with that, she slipped out of the room, out of the apartment, leaving Oscar standing alone, silence deafening around him. The weight of his family’s actions, of his own inaction, pressed down on him.

He had always thought he could balance everything—his career, his family, his relationship—but now, as the door closed behind Mia, he realized that he had been wrong. He had been so focused on winning races, on making his family happy, that he hadn’t seen the cracks forming beneath the surface of his relationship and in the heart of the woman he loved.

And now, he wasn’t sure if he would ever get her back.

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mononijikayu · 23 days ago

Text

say so — nanami kento.

As you looked at him, you knew that he knew that. But he was only human. It wasn’t easy to not be swayed by human doubts and impulse. You never faulted him for that. If anything, it made you fall in love with him over and over again. Because your Kento was both sides of the coin of human life. And you embrace it, more than you could ever imagine. Love is just that way. You knew that to be true. You stepped closer, your hands sliding up his arms to rest on his shoulders, grounding him. “Kento, I want you. Only you.” you said, your voice filled with the sincerity you hoped he could feel. “I want you more than anything. Because you’re my life. My oxygen. My everything.”

GENRE: Alternate Universe - Canon Convergence;

WARNING/s: Post-Shibuya Arc, R-18, Smut, Fingering, P to V Sex, Passionate Sex, Pet Names (My Love, Baby), Romance, Friends to Lovers, Husband and Wife, Friendship, Husband! Nanami, Reader! Wife, Fluff, Drama, Comfort, Falling In Love, Flirting, Jealousy, Teasing, Fix-It, Humor, Domesticity, Family Life, Hurt/Comfort, Angst, Idiots In Love, Light-Hearted, Slice of Life, Pining, Nanami Being A Great Husband, Nanami Kento is FATHER™️;

WORDS: 9.5k words.

AUTHOR'S NOTE: nanami won my poll again!!! hurray!!! here's tmi about this - thiis was half way finished when i came back to write it, but then i got sick again and i started writing this more differently than my direction. i got frustrated so i stopped for a while then i forgot about it and then i wanted to finish it.

oh, also kento and you speak danish at home, because you both feel like a secret language between you and him. gojo is also retired — thats going to be in us and them!!! thank you so much for waiting!!! thank you for reading too!!! i love you all !!! see you in the gojo fic (second place) <3

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next: little wonders

HE THOUGHT THAT HE WOULD ALWAYS BE NONCHALANT. Nanami Kento never thought he’d be the type to get jealous. After all, he prided himself on being calm and composed, grounded in logic.

But lately, things have changed. You had changed—or rather, something about you had. At least that’s what he noticed now that you’ve come back to Tokyo, so he could become a mentor to the kids with Gojo’s retirement.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this. Nanami Kento had finally left the endless grind of Jujutsu society, traded the blood and curses for a quiet life in Malaysia, far from the threat of battle.

But when he got that call, it felt like the past had come clawing back, unwilling to let him go. Itadori Yuji’s name on Gojo’s lips stirred something within him—something old, duty-bound, and unwilling to see an innocent youth, especially one with Yuji’s heart, left adrift.

Gojo Satoru's concern was about more than just Yuji, though. Nanami listened as the retired special grade sorcerer, sitting on a cruise across the globe, rattled off frustrations with the new leadership at Jujutsu High and Jujutsu society as a whole. All of it having formed with what he had known from his contacts back at hom.

At the center of it was Usami. That man, the strongest of all first class sorcerers, Usami, who never defied the higher-ups, who prioritized orders and tradition over compassion, whose unfeeling approach Gojo had seen all too often among those aligned with the elders.

Nanami Kento knew the type. They were the very people he’d worked so hard to avoid throughout his career, the type who saw Jujutsu sorcerers as tools more than as people, especially the students.

Now, with Gojo’s absence, Usami had stepped into a more central role at Jujutsu High, and Gojo wasn’t comfortable with it. Why would he? He’s still supporting the remaining conservative factions in Jujutsu High.

There was no other way to feel about it other than this, but concern. The return of a conservative faction, under Gakuganji, would stifle Gojo’s gambles these past few years. Gambles Kento had agreed with, even if not wholeheartedly.

“I don’t want him making decisions for my students, you know? I’m sure you agree about that with me too.” Gojo said bluntly, his tone carrying the usual lazy confidence but undercut by a genuine concern. “They’ve been through enough. They deserve someone who understands them.”

Kento could hear Gojo's frustration; it was an unusual tone in the voice of someone who otherwise seemed to brush off his troubles. And in that sentiment, Nanami found himself nodding in agreement. It didn’t sit well with him, either. But what could he do? He is retired now, isn't he? There was no need for this chatter.

Gojo, as though reading his hesitation, chuckled knowingly over the line. “Look, I’m technically retired too, Nanami. I know your feelings about this.” he said with that familiar cheek in his voice. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t meddle. Keeps me busy as I get old, you know? Gojo clan head is empty without any drama.”

There was a pause, and Kento didn’t know what to say. Gojo Satoru, even in their younger years, used his status to continue to advocate for his interests. And Kento didn’t like it as much, he was someone who liked rules, after all.

Even if he agreed with them, he thinks about the context of propriety. But he knows the soul of Gojo’s argument. He agrees with that. Gojo’s voice softened on the other line.

“Don’t you ever want to keep busy too? I mean, especially when your wife’s at her job? You’re both still in the thick of it, in your own ways. Being a house husband doesn’t always satisfy the itch. Before you rebuttal, you know I’m not lying. ”

Nanami sighed. Gojo’s words struck a nerve. He’s not wrong. Genmei–san also works still, helping out at temples when she has the time. Most of the time, if they weren’t on holiday, it would be Gojo waiting at home and taking care of their children. For a moment, Nanami sat down to think about it properly.

You were deeply invested in your work as a novelist. You adore it, you truly do. But often, it’s hard for you to deal with. You were just as much an independent person in your own right and that was your own mission, your own purpose.

He admired you for that, but there were times when he found himself wondering about his place. He adores taking care of you, he adores being by your side all the time. He adores being your house–husband.

But he often questions, besides that, away from the frontline, away from Jujutsu, what was his purpose now? Was he truly content to let the world of sorcery continue without him, even if it meant leaving those like Yuji to struggle without guidance? Or the kids? What can he do for them? What can he do now?

“Fine, Gojo.” Nanami finally muttered. “I’ll look into it. Just… don’t get used to this.” He could practically hear Gojo’s grin over the line, a smug sort of satisfaction that Nanami knew all too well.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.” Gojo replied smoothly in response. “But I’ll admit, it’s good to have you back, even if just for a little while.”

And so, he tried to muster the courage to tell you about what he had agreed to. Dinner was a warm, familiar ritual together. And by the beachside in Kuantan, everything about it was a wonder to behold.

The sounds of clinking plates and gentle conversation filled the room, and the two of you settled into the ease of being home together, savoring the evening without the rush of tomorrow hanging over you.

You were halfway through telling him about something small that had happened during your day at the market when he cleared his throat, a subtle shift in his usual, deliberate movements. His fingers, wrapped around his glass, seemed to tighten slightly. You looked at him a little bit confused.

“There’s something I need to tell you, my love.” he began, meeting your gaze with a calm determination. "I’ve decided… to return to Tokyo." He paused, letting the weight of his words sink in before he continued. "Jujutsu High needs someone to look after the first years. With Gojo retired, things are… in flux."

You blinked, feeling a jolt of surprise, but before you could fully react, he was already explaining, his tone quickening just a touch, as if he’d anticipated your questions. It was rare for your husband to be this way, to ramble about and have his bright brown eyes shake as he looked at you with a shaken uncertainty. But you know when he becomes this way, it’s because of things he cares about.

“It’s not active service, don’t worry about that, my love.” he assured, almost hurriedly, his hand drifting toward yours in an unspoken promise. “I’m not heading back into the field. It’s only to mentor the kids, give them someone they can rely on. They deserve that, especially now.”

You saw his resolve deepen as he spoke of them, the younger students who’d become like family over the years. His voice softened, and you could tell this wasn’t just about filling Gojo’s shoes.

"I can’t abandon Yuji, he’s already without someone. I can’t really do much more damage by leaving him without someone." he said with quiet conviction, his eyes searching yours as if to make sure you understood.

“Kento—”

"I know how much he’s been through, and… I don’t want him facing it alone. Nobara, too—she’s so headstrong. She’ll need someone she can turn to, someone to help her channel all that fire. And Gojo’s bound to ask for updates on Fushiguro all the time. You know how he is with him. With them. I just….I just don’t want them to feel so alone about this at all. Usami is gaining some foothold and the conservatives are just….its complicated.”

A small smile tugged at your lips as you listened, watching the familiar strength in his face, the quiet protector in him springing back to life. Passion was beautiful in your husband. Seeing even more alive with such caring passion makes you happy.

His gaze held yours, steady and honest, a reassurance that his heart was set on this, that he wasn’t leaving you behind but rather doing what he felt was right, the only thing that made sense.

You let the warmth you felt for him reflect in your smile, reaching for his hand as it rested between you. “Of course, Kento.” you replied softly, squeezing his fingers with encouragement. “They couldn’t have anyone better.”

A soft exhale escaped him, the tension leaving his shoulders as he squeezed your hand back. Relief and gratitude flickered across his face, the subtle shift of a man who didn’t often ask for things but knew he’d been understood completely. There was no need for grand gestures or lengthy explanations between the two of you; your silent agreement spoke volumes.

The conversation turned to lighter things, back to the warmth of dinner. But every so often, you caught his expression softening, a look of contentment and resolve, knowing he was about to embark on something meaningful, not just for him, but for those who needed him.

But of course, that also came with cons.

The move to Tokyo was a calm one.

But it was also a disastrous one, in his mind.

You were both too busy to spend time together.

The shift was subtle at first. Kento began to spend more and more hours at Jujutsu High, guiding the first years, sharing his experience, and quietly observing their progress. He’d come home later than usual, sometimes with papers under his arm and a faint weariness in his expression that he tried to mask with a smile.

Meanwhile, you were pouring yourself into your new book, the words and ideas flowing freely under the careful guidance of your new editor. It was an exciting time, both for your work and for him. There was a renaissance in your paths to life blossoming in your efforts. But there was a toll, a quiet distance neither of you fully acknowledged.

One evening, you noticed the weight in his gaze as he joined you at the table. He seemed quieter, his usual calm presence tinged with something else; something like sadness. You set down your work, reaching across to hold his hand, catching the faint glimmer of surprise in his eyes.

“Things have been so busy lately, my love.” he murmured, his voice soft, almost reluctant to admit it aloud. “I miss being able to spend more time with you.”

Your heart softened at his honesty, and you squeezed his hand gently. “I miss it too, Kento.” you replied, meeting his gaze with reassurance. “But you know how this is… the busy season. Soon, I’ll be back to post-writing mode, and we’ll have more time to do things together. This won’t last forever.”

He nodded, his lips curling into a small, understanding smile. “You’re right. It’s just… different.” There was a flicker of relief in his eyes, but it was short-lived.

As the weeks went on, your new editor’s involvement became more intense, often stretching into late-night calls or spontaneous meetings that kept you occupied well beyond the hours you’d once spent with Kento.

He’d catch you on the phone, your voice animated in a way that was hard to miss, even as he stood in the doorway waiting for a chance to say goodnight. It was hard to deal with, day by day.

But he said nothing, keeping his feelings carefully hidden behind the same mask of calm he’d worn so well for years. But you could sense it, the slight slump of his shoulders, the way his gaze lingered on you just a little longer.

It was as if he was hoping you’d glance up, catch his eye, and read the unspoken questions there. In the quiet moments, he’d watch you, a silent longing in his gaze, feeling the bittersweet ache of being close but somehow… not close enough.

It was an unspoken tension, a soft thread pulled too tight between the two of you. And though he never voiced it, you began to sense how much he missed you—not just physically, but in all the little moments you once shared, now slipping through his fingers.

After all, you guys were all you truly had in all these times. He would always crave everything about you. About loving you, about being close to you. Just you. He missed you.

Nanam Kento was sure that he hadi tried to be patient. He reminded himself, over and over, that this was temporary, just a busy period that would eventually pass. He knew how much this book meant to you and understood how important it was to have an editor who could match your energy and vision.

But despite all his quiet resolve, he couldn’t ignore the pang of envy that crept in every time he saw you light up, laughing or discussing something animatedly over the phone.

The way you and your editor connected; it was undeniable. The easy flow between you two, the synergy that seemed to bridge ideas without any need for words, stirred something unsettled in him.

He would come home from a long day at Jujutsu high, weary but hopeful to catch up with you. Instead, he’d often find you mid-call, your voice carrying hints of excitement he hadn’t heard in a while. You’d wave him a quick greeting, mouthing that you’d be off soon, but “soon” stretched, and his footsteps grew slower on his way to your side.

It wasn’t that he doubted you or the love between you two. He trusted you deeply. But the way you seemed to come alive with this editor… it stung in a way he hadn’t anticipated. He knew you and this person worked well together, that they understood your work and helped bring out your best ideas.

He understood it logically, but logic did little to quell the feeling of being left on the sidelines. After all, it was a feeling he recognized too well—the familiar ache of watching from a distance, of caring deeply and yet holding his tongue.

Some nights, he’d sit across from you at dinner, glancing up occasionally, only to see you distracted, your mind clearly still on your work. Or you’d mention a new idea your editor had suggested, a change you hadn’t considered but were now eager to explore.

And though he nodded, offering his encouragement, he couldn’t shake the thought: When was the last time I could make her smile like that?

As the weeks went by, he felt it more keenly, this quiet envy of the time you spent together. It wasn’t that he begrudged you for the partnership, but he couldn’t help wishing that he could have more of that side of you for himself; the side that was vibrant and full of life, that spark of curiosity and joy he’d always adored.

Nanami Kento wasn’t one to give voice to his insecurities easily, and he knew how silly he might sound, envious over something so innocent. He was a secured man, in all the ways he knew he was. He knew that too well. Yet as much as he told himself it was foolish, the feeling lingered.

So he held back, watching you in those moments with a quiet ache, determined to keep his envy hidden. He’d stay later at the school, throw himself into lesson planning, sometimes even offer to cover additional duties, as though it might distract him. But each time he came home, seeing you lost in conversation or laughter, he couldn’t shake the feeling that, for now, a part of you belonged to someone else.

He told himself it was just work. You had deadlines; he understood that. But there was something else. Whenever your phone pinged with a message, you’d check it quickly, smile to yourself, then type out a reply, sometimes with a small laugh or a shake of your head. And every time, he’d feel a sharp pang of something foreign to him: jealousy.

Kento tried to reason with himself. You were his wife, and he trusted you implicitly. You had built a life together, one based on love, understanding, and mutual respect. But that didn’t stop the gnawing feeling in his chest whenever he saw you so absorbed in those messages or whenever he saw that spark of excitement in your eyes when you talked about the feedback your editor gave you.

He knew it was irrational, but he couldn’t shake the thought. When he saw you typing away late into the evening, smiling at the screen, a quiet worry settled in the back of his mind. What was this editor like? Why did their input seem to matter so much to you? And why did Kento, who usually approached everything in life with composure, find himself so deeply unsettled?

Tonight, though, he’d had enough. He stood in the doorway to your office, watching you as you leaned over your laptop, brushing a strand of hair behind your ear, fully immersed in your work.

You looked beautiful, more beautiful than ever, but that same nagging feeling of jealousy coiled tighter in his chest. And before he could stop himself, something in him just snapped.

“So, my love.” he said, his voice calm yet edged with tension. “Another late night, huh?”

“Yeah, it would seem so!” You retort, noticing him. “You’ve just come home?”

“Just a while ago.” He says to you, watching you turn your head back to your computer. You were typing even faster. He was sure you were trying to finish it, now that he was home.

You looked up once again, a soft smile lighting up your face. “I didn’t even hear you come in. You came in as sly as a little cat!” You stretched, setting aside your laptop and glancing at him warmly. “I was just going over some notes. The editor had a few thoughts on the latest chapter.”

”Did he have any suggestions for this part?" he asked, casually trying to keep his tone even as he nodded toward your screen.

You looked up, clearly surprised. "Who, my editor?"

"Yeah, my love." he said, keeping his gaze fixed on you as he leaned against the doorframe. "It just seems like he's been really… involved in your work lately."

You tilted your head, noticing the unusual tension in his voice, the way his words held a heaviness that wasn’t like him. “Well, that’s what they’re paid to do, you know?” you replied gently, hoping to keep things light, maybe coax a smile out of him.

But his expression didn’t shift. You could tell almost immediately. Instead, his eyes held a quiet, guarded intensity that stopped you in your tracks. Realizing this was more than a casual remark, you closed your laptop, giving him your full attention.

“Kento… Is something wrong?” you asked, voice soft, searching his face for a sign of what was going on inside him.

He crossed his arms, hesitating. For a moment, he almost looked as if he wanted to brush it off, to go back to his usual collected demeanor, but he stopped. Instead, he looked at you with an intensity that caught you off guard.

“I know it’s irrational, and I know it’s probably nothing.” he said finally, his voice quiet, almost reluctant. “But… I don’t like seeing you so wrapped up in this person’s feedback. You’ve been smiling at your phone more than you do at me lately, and I’m… not exactly used to feeling like this.”

The vulnerability in his words, the admission from someone usually so calm and composed, made your heart soften instantly. You reached out, covering his hand with yours, feeling the tension there, the way his fingers reflexively squeezed back.

“Kento, baby.” you said, voice warm. “You don’t have to feel that way. No editor or anyone else could ever mean as much to me as you do. None of them are you. There’s only one of you, you know?”

He relaxed just a little, his shoulders easing as he let your words sink in. But he didn’t let go of that guarded look, the one that still held a hint of uncertainty. “Then why does it feel like I’m… competing for your attention?” he asked, his gaze never leaving yours. It was a simple question, but the way he asked it, with a vulnerability that you knew he rarely revealed, struck you deeply.

You took a deep breath, choosing your words carefully. “I guess I didn’t realize how it looked.” you admitted, your thumb brushing lightly along his hand. “It’s just… I got excited about the project, and the new feedback’s been inspiring. But…I’m so sorry for not noticing or making you feel that way, baby.”

You reached out, tracing a gentle hand down his arm, feeling the tension start to melt away as you looked into his eyes. “None of that compares to what I have with you. I hope you know that. You’re the one I come home to, Kento. You’re the one who matters most. I love you. Only you.”

He seemed to exhale, his expression softening. You could see the quiet relief in his eyes, the way the tension finally started to lift, and it made you want to close whatever lingering distance was left between you. And then, his voice, low and almost hesitant, broke the silence.

“Tell me, my love.” he whispered, barely above a murmur. “Tell me that you want me. Just… say it.”

The raw vulnerability in his voice, that rare openness he was offering, made your heart ache in the best way. You don’t think you had ever felt like this before Kento. But every day since then, your heart has created more motions you could never understand. And you know, you just knew – it was because you loved him more than anything in life.

Because your Kento was both sides of the coin of human life. And you embrace it, more than you could ever imagine. Love is just that way. You knew that to be true. You stepped closer, your hands sliding up his arms to rest on his shoulders, grounding him.

“Kento, I want you. Only you.” you said, your voice filled with the sincerity you hoped he could feel. “I want you more than anything. Because you’re my life. My oxygen. My everything.”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and before either of you could say another word, he wrapped his arms around you, pulling you into a warm, firm embrace. The warmth you had come to hold onto in this life.

You sank into his hold, resting your head against his chest, feeling the steady, reassuring beat of his heart beneath your ear. There was a familiar comfort there, a quiet strength in his embrace, that had always felt like home.

For a few moments, you both stayed that way, close and quiet, as if the world outside had faded and left only the two of you. He lifted his head slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to your forehead/

Kento murmured into your hair, his voice gentle. “Promise me you’ll take a break from work. I’ll do it too. We’ll spend time together. Just us. No one else.”

You tilted your head up to meet his gaze, a soft smile spreading across your lips. “Of course, my baby. I can postpone everything else. If it’s you, everything else can wait. My husband being happy is more important to me!” you whispered.

A quiet sense of relief washed over him, and he held you a little tighter, his own smile finally breaking through, his usual calm confidence restored. For Kento, there was no greater feeling than knowing you were his and that you were here, sharing this quiet, peaceful moment with him.

As he held you close, he felt a deep contentment, one he rarely allowed himself to savor. The jealousy that had once gripped him faded entirely, replaced by a quiet certainty. Of course there should be. Why wouldn't there be?

The certainty that your love, your life together, was the one thing in the world he could rely on. That he was sure. You love him, after all. And as he closed his eyes, resting his chin atop your head, he silently thanked the universe for you, for this love that was more real, more enduring, than any fleeting worry or passing jealousy.

This, he thought to himself, was where he belonged.

Right here, in this moment, in your arms.

Nowhere else can compare to this.

YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO GO AND HAVE A PICNIC. The night before you had agreed that it would be nice to enjoy the Tokyo sun, and have a picnic at the park. You talked about a cat cafe nearby too. He talked about how the yakisoba dish was introduced at his favorite restaurant. There were new spots popping out in Tokyo for you both to check out.

That’s what you agreed on. Today was supposed to be simple, a peaceful day just to unwind and enjoy each other’s company. But the moment you woke up and felt his gaze linger a bit longer.

Slowly, smoothly, you could feel his hand finding the curve of your waist, you knew that quiet was about to turn into something much more intense. You knew your husband too well. When he’s hungry — he remains hungry.

He pulled you close, his grip both gentle and possessive as his eyes darkened. “Mine, only mine.” he murmured, the word almost a growl, his fingers tracing your skin like he wanted to memorize every part of you.

The world around you melted away as he took his time, every kiss and touch filled with a need that made your heart race. You let him, giving himself over as he murmured softly against your skin, “My pretty wife… just for me.”

You could feel him stretching you out so perfectly with his fingers, causing you to moan loudly. Your husband was good, too good at everything he does. But when it comes to you, he was beyond excellent. Your eyes felt hazy as he looked at you with that predatory stare. You held him even closer, your moan getting louder.

Your head turns awry with the high as you continue to ride his fingers as he kisses your neck, you're stuck against the wall occupied by him. No one, not even your previous lovers, those green boy boyfriends were able to make you feel this good.

No one could make you feel this way. Only him. Only your husband, your Kento. And every single time, he knew it. Even with his jealousy, he knew it. You were always going to fold when it’s him. Only him.

“K–Kento.” you moan out, your voice breathless as you rock against his fingers, the sensation overwhelming in the best way. Each movement sends waves of pleasure coursing through you, and you can't help but lose yourself in the rhythm he creates. “You’re… you’re… oh—”

His eyes darken with desire, and a sly smile creeps onto his lips. “That’s it, my love.” he replies, his voice low and filled with warmth.

He peppered soft kisses along your neck, each one igniting a fire inside you that burned brighter with every passing second. His fingers pushed deeper, faster, and you felt so incredibly full, the exquisite stretch making your head spin.

“Come. Come for me.” he urged, his words wrapping around you like a spell, both a command and an invitation. The way he held you against the wall, the heat radiating from his body, only heightened the electric connection between you.

Every kiss he placed on your skin felt like a promise, an affirmation of the bond you shared. No one else had ever made you feel this way; so cherished and desired. With him, you were always ready to surrender completely, to give in to the overwhelming pleasure that built within you. Nothing else can compare with what you feel for your husband. Nothing.

You could feel the tension coiling tighter, your body responding instinctively to his every touch. He was so good at remembering where to touch you next. After being together for this long, Kento knew your body even better than you. He knows how to make you cry, how to make you moan. He knows everything.

“Kento.” you gasped, the sound a mix of pleasure and longing, and as his fingers curled just right, that coil finally snapped. Your body shuddered, a wave of bliss crashing over you, leaving you breathless as you surrendered to the moment, lost in the magic of him.

You looked up at him, and his gaze was intense, filled with a mix of satisfaction and hunger that sent a rush of warmth through you. Without a word, he pressed his lips against yours, kissing you with a fervor that reignited the fire within.

His movements were slow at first, but as he pushed his fingers one by one, even deeper, your moans escaped you uncontrollably, pulling him closer as you urged him on, wanting nothing more than to feel every bit of him.

Somehow, you had been able to accommodate every tight, muscular finger in his hand. And you knew it felt good. He knew it felt good. Because he knew just what to do. No one else would. Only Kento would.

He responded with a low, pleased growl, the sound reverberating through his chest as his free hand tightened around your hip, holding you possessively against him.

There was an undeniable power in the way he claimed you, every inch of his touch a reminder of the connection you shared. You felt cherished and owned, completely his in this intimate moment.

Each thrust of his fingers sent jolts of pleasure coursing through you, each stroke deliberate and filled with purpose. Your body responded eagerly, arching into him as you surrendered fully to the sensations, every moan escaping your lips urging him on.

The world outside ceased to exist; there was only you, him, and the electric energy that wrapped around you both, binding you together in a rhythm that felt both primal and tender.

As the intensity of the moment deepened, you could feel the heat radiating from him, a tangible connection that anchored you both in a world of your own. His lips traveled down to your neck, trailing kisses that ignited your skin, leaving behind a trail of fire. You could feel the way he held you, his grip firm yet gentle, and it made you crave more, the need building inside you like a rising tide.

“Just like that, my love.” he murmured against your skin, his breath warm and teasing. The sound of his voice sent a thrill through you, adding to the layers of pleasure that enveloped you.

He continued to move his fingers with a deliberate slowness, coaxing every last ounce of ecstasy from your body. Each time he pushed deeper, you gasped, the sensations pulling you closer to the edge once again.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, pulling him closer, as if you could merge your bodies into one. Drool started to form from your lips as he thrusted even deeper, pleasure repetitive in your lips to his ears. He enjoyed it. He enjoyed making a mess of you way too much.

“K–kento. Oh my….g—oddddd…..” you breathed, the urgency in your voice echoing your desire. You needed him, all of him, and you wanted to feel that connection intensify. He looked into your eyes, and in that moment, you saw the depth of his love mirrored in his gaze, a promise that went beyond the physical.

He quickened his pace slightly, and you felt every pulse of his fingers inside you, each thrust igniting a new wave of pleasure. You could sense the hunger in him, a deep-seated need to feel you unravel beneath him.

“You’re perfect, aren't you?” he said, the words reverberating through you as you lost yourself in the moment. His possessiveness only heightened your arousal, each stroke of his fingers an affirmation that you belonged to him, and he to you.

With every thrust, every kiss, you felt the world around you blur, leaving only the two of you entwined in a dance of passion. Your bodies moved together as if they were made to fit, every touch syncing perfectly. You surrendered completely, letting the waves of pleasure wash over you, pulling you under and lifting you higher.

“Come for me again, my love.” he urged, his voice a low growl filled with desire. You could feel the pressure building once more, and with a desperate need, you clung to him, riding the waves of sensation that coursed through you.

The world outside faded entirely as you focused on the way he made you feel—alive, cherished, and utterly consumed by the moment. And as you finally tipped over the edge into bliss, you knew that this was where you belonged, wrapped in his arms, lost in your shared passion.

As the world outside faded into a distant hum, you and Kento found yourselves enveloped in an intimate cocoon, where it was just the two of you. His gaze held yours, deep and searching, as if he were reading the unspoken words that danced between you. The air was thick with anticipation, and your heart raced in sync with the pulse of the moment.

With a gentle touch, he caressed your cheek, his fingers trailing down to your neck, igniting sparks of warmth beneath his fingertips. The softness of his touch contrasted with the burning desire that simmered between you, creating a perfect tension that left you breathless. You leaned into him, craving the connection that felt both familiar and exhilarating.

“Are you ready?” he asked, his voice low and filled with warmth, laced with a hint of playful teasing that made your stomach flutter. You nodded, feeling a rush of trust and excitement wash over you. You knew he would take care of you, just as he always did.

As he shifted closer, you could feel the heat radiating from his body, enveloping you in a cocoon of warmth and safety. When he entered you, it was as if time stood still. The sensation was overwhelming, a perfect blend of pleasure and intimacy that made you gasp softly. You could feel every inch of him, filling you completely, as he took his time, letting you adjust to the fullness.

Kento's eyes never left yours, and in that moment, you felt utterly cherished. Each movement was deliberate, as if he were savoring the connection between your bodies and the bond you shared. He pressed his forehead against yours, his breath mingling with yours as you both surrendered to the rhythm of your bodies.

“You’re so beautiful, my love.” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, and you could feel the sincerity in his words.

Those simple words sent a wave of warmth through you, making you feel both desired and loved. You wrapped your arms around him, pulling him even closer, as if you could merge your souls together.

He held you firmly, as though afraid to let go, fingers pressing into your skin with a hunger that left no doubt of his intentions. His hands slid from your waist to your thighs, gripping you with an intensity that was both grounding and electric, each touch sparking a heat that made you shiver.

The way he held you was raw and consuming, as though he wanted to memorize the feeling of you beneath his hands, every curve, every softness. He knew everything like the back of his hand/

You could feel his breath, warm and steady, against your skin, each kiss he placed making you arch closer, melting into the strength of his hold. The roughness of his grip, his possessive energy, pulled you deeper.

It was like he was marking you as his, his touch heavy with a passion that left you breathless. He looked into your eyes, his gaze dark and intense, a silent promise of everything he wanted to give, everything he wanted to take.

The world seemed to narrow to just the two of you, his warmth surrounding you, his presence overwhelming in the best possible way. Every inch of you felt alive under his touch, every nerve alight with a need that only he could satisfy.

His hands continued to explore, leaving trails of warmth, his touch demanding yet tender, as if reassuring you that he was there, and you were his.

The heat between you intensified, his hands roaming slowly, leaving a trail of tingling warmth wherever they went. You trembled, feeling the power behind every touch, every possessive whisper.

You could feel him drinking in the sight of you, holding you close as if he didn’t want to let go. It wasn’t rushed; it was filled with a focused, possessive affection that only made you crave him more.

Time blurred as his movements became a mix of gentleness and intensity. His hands slid lower, holding you firmly, possessively, as he whispered your name.

His words washed over you, filled with longing and satisfaction as he whispered, “You’re mine. Only mine.” Each soft murmur made your breath catch, his voice rough with devotion.

Your husband had always had a way of grounding you, pulling you back to him in the moments you needed it most. He held you with a quiet strength, his touches both comforting and electric, each caress more deliberate than the last.

When the busy schedules and late nights began to take their toll, you’d find yourself in his arms, feeling the tension melt away as he made you his world.

He was possessive in the gentlest way, his lips tracing along your skin, his voice murmuring low, tender words that anchored you to the present.

"Mine, mine." he'd say, over and over, his voice a husky whisper as he pressed deeper, slow and unhurried, savoring each moment. "My beautiful wife, my one and only."

You let yourself unravel under his touch, feeling each surge of pleasure as he pulled you closer, his mouth finding yours in heated kisses, his hands firm as they held you against him. The world outside faded, and there was only him—each movement, each shudder of pleasure woven with his love and need for you.

And as your body trembled, giving in to the pleasure he offered, he’d whisper words that sent warmth spiraling through you: His only. His good girl. His good little wife.

With every pulse and every breath, he made you his, claiming you in the way only he could, and you felt yourself give in, letting him take what he needed, knowing that he was yours just as deeply.

In these moments, he was entirely yours, just as you were his, both of you wrapped up in a world where only the two of you existed. And as he held you close, that familiar need he had for you was clear in his eyes, you could feel the depth of his love; the way he wanted you, needed you—all pouring out with each possessive word and touch.

Every thrust was slow and measured, each movement deliberate and filled with purpose, as if Kento were painting a masterpiece with your bodies.

He took his time, carefully crafting a rhythm that drew you both closer to the edge of ecstasy, like the steady buildup of a powerful wave ready to crash upon the shore. Each moment felt like an eternity, stretched and molded by his touch, igniting every nerve ending with heat and longing.

Kento relished in the way you responded to him, the way your body quivered beneath him, your breaths coming in soft gasps that filled the space between you.

He liked making you wait, savoring the way your eyes widened in need and your body writhed, pleading for more. The way you mewled over and over again, lost in the depths of desire, was music to his ears, a siren call that drove him further into the depths of his own hunger for you.

“Please, Kento. More. More—” you begged, your voice trembling with desperation, the need pooling in the pit of your stomach. Each word was a plea, a yearning that echoed in the silence of the room, punctuated only by the soft sounds of skin meeting skin.

“P–please….pleaseeeee…..”

A teasing smile played on his lips as he leaned down, his breath warm against your neck. He bit gently into your flesh, a sweet sting that sent shivers of pleasure coursing through you, causing you to moan, tears streaming down your face from the overwhelming sensations flooding your body.

“Enjoy it, my love. Enjoy the slow burn.” he murmured, his voice low and husky, wrapping around you like a silken ribbon. “Let’s have fun, hm?”

His words were a command and a caress, urging you to embrace the intensity of the moment. The way he spoke your name, the way he held you, felt like a tether pulling you deeper into the shared experience. You were both caught in a delicate dance, a balance of power and surrender, where every pause and every gentle caress built anticipation.

The world outside faded away, leaving only the two of you intertwined, lost in the growing tension between your bodies. Kento was in control, but you loved it. You loved the way he took his time, how each thrust felt like an exploration, a journey into the very essence of what it meant to be together.

He would withdraw slightly, teasing you with the promise of more, before plunging back into you with a slow, deliberate push that sent sparks of pleasure radiating from the core of your being.

Each pulse of his body against yours was a reminder of his possession, of the bond you shared that was both beautiful and intoxicating. The slow burn he created enveloped you, igniting your senses and drawing you closer to the precipice of your desires. You could feel the heat building within you, an insistent wave that throbbed and twisted, desperate for release.

“Just like that, my love.” he encouraged, his voice a soothing balm against the tumultuous storm of emotions swirling inside you. “Let it build. Let it consume you.”

You let his words command you, letting them wash over you as you melted into the sensations. Every tear that fell was a blessing of pleasure and the pain mingling together, a sweet agony that you welcomed wholeheartedly.

You could feel your heart racing, your breaths quickening, as you approached that sweet, familiar edge, caught between the bliss of the moment and the urgency of your need.

With every deep stroke, you felt a delicious tension building within you, a tightness that was both exhilarating and overwhelming. Each time he filled you completely, it ignited a spark of pleasure that resonated deep in your core, drawing soft gasps from your lips. Your husband was a great lover. Perhaps the best there ever was.

You surrendered to him fully, giving yourself over to the sensations that enveloped you. The outside world faded away, leaving nothing but the two of you entwined in this intimate dance. The warmth of his body pressed against yours, the way his breath mingled with yours, made every moment feel precious.

You can only focus on him. Only him. He was what mattered. The way his eyes held yours, filled with an intensity that spoke volumes of his love and desire.

You could write as many beautiful works as you could ever want. But perhaps the most beautiful creation in your life was him. Loving Nanami Kento was your most beautiful creation.

In that moment, nothing else mattered but the way he made you feel. It was a combination of love and raw passion, an electric current that flowed between you, binding you together in a way that felt profoundly intimate.

Every caress of his hands, every whispered word, heightened your awareness of him, igniting your senses and making you acutely aware of the depth of your connection.

You could feel his warmth enveloping you, a comforting presence that made you feel safe yet desired. The way he moved, the way he took his time to explore every inch of you, filled you with an overwhelming sense of affection and longing.

With each thrust, you could feel your bodies communicating in a language all your own, a silent exchange that deepened the bond between you.

As you both lost yourselves in each other, the outside world faded into nothingness, leaving only the two of you entwined in a universe of your own making.

The air around you thickened with anticipation, and every touch felt electric, as if the very essence of your connection pulsed between you. As if you truly belonged together.

You could sense the tension coiling tighter, each movement a languid dance that drew you deeper into an exquisite rhythm, a beautiful synergy that melded your souls together and ignited a fire within you that felt utterly intoxicating.

“Kento, I’m coming. I’m so close.” you gasped, the words spilling from your lips as desire swirled through your veins.

He trailed kisses along your jaw, his lips soft yet insistent, igniting a cascade of shivers that traveled down your spine. “Come for me, baby. Let go.” he urged, his voice low and rich with promise, wrapping around you like a warm embrace.

That was when he shifted, his movements quickening, a sudden urgency that sent your heart racing. The delicious friction intensified, and with each thrust, the world outside vanished completely, leaving only the two of you in a haze of passion.

Every kiss, every whisper, every pulse of his body against yours propelled you closer to that blissful edge, where pleasure and surrender intertwined, drawing you both into a beautiful climax that promised to sweep you away entirely.

As Kento quickened his pace, the urgency of his movements sent waves of pleasure crashing over you, building to a peak that felt both thrilling and inevitable.

The air around you crackled with electricity, every sensation heightened as he pressed deeper, claiming you in a way that made your heart race and your body ache for more. His breaths came in ragged gasps, mingling with the sound of skin against skin, each thrust driving you further into a euphoric haze.

“My love, I’m so close.” he murmured, his voice thick with desire, his eyes locked onto yours, filled with an intensity that made your breath hitch. “I’m….I’m gonna come.”

You could see the raw need in his gaze, the way he was completely lost in the moment, just as you were. It was intoxicating to know that you had this effect on him, that you could pull him into this blissful space where nothing else mattered but the two of you.

“I want you, baby.” you whispered, your voice trembling with urgency as you felt that familiar coil tightening within you. “I need you.”

“D’ you want me inside, hm? Where do you want me?”

You moan, thinking about how hot it was. How hotter it would be to have him inside of you. “I-inside me. Please. Please. Make me full.”

“Y’d like that? You want me to make you full of me, my love?”

“Yes, yes, o–oh, yes—”

With a low growl, Kento shifted his focus, pushing into you with a deep, purposeful thrust that sent stars dancing behind your eyelids. The world outside was a distant memory, all that existed was the heat building between you, a fire that consumed you both whole.

His movements were rhythmic yet fervent, each push coaxing you closer to the edge, and you could feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter within you. It felt so good. It felt way too good and you wanted it to last forever.

“Let go, my love.” he urged, his voice a sultry whisper that sent shivers coursing through your body. “I’m right there with you.”

And then, with a final, deep thrust, you felt him come inside you, warmth flooding you as he released with a low groan, his body pulsing against yours. The sensation was overwhelming—a rush of heat that spread through you, mingling with your own climax as pleasure washed over you in waves, leaving you breathless and trembling benea

th him.

You held on closer to him, taking in a new dawn’s breath.

You were so in love with this man, more than you know.

And he was the same — he couldn’t get enough of loving you.

“You know, if I had known jealousy would make you like this…” you finally say, your voice still laced with breathlessness as you regain your composure.

The warmth of the moment lingers around you like a soft blanket, and you can feel the aftershocks of pleasure still coursing through your body. Kento’s kisses trail along your glistening skin, each gentle press of his lips a sweet reminder of the connection you’ve just shared.

His lips are soft against you, leaving a trail of warmth in their wake, and the scent of your mingled skin fills the air with a heady sweetness that is all-consuming.

“I would get you jealous often, baby.” you tease, a playful smile curving your lips as you look down at him.

Kento pauses, lifting his gaze to meet yours, his expression a mixture of amusement and mock seriousness. “Is that so?” he replies, his voice a low rumble that sends a delightful shiver through you.

The intensity in his eyes is unmistakable, a mix of possessiveness and affection that makes your heart flutter.You can’t help but laugh softly, the sound echoing around you in the intimate space you’ve created together.

“Absolutely. You should see how cute you get when you’re all riled up, baby.” you say, playfully nudging him with your shoulder. “Fiesty and all.”

His lips curve into a smirk, and he leans closer, brushing his nose against yours. “You’re lucky I’m not the type to stay jealous for long, my love.” he murmurs, the warmth of his breath tickling your face. “But if it means I get to have you like this…”

His voice trails off, and he plants a series of soft kisses down your neck, each one sending delightful tingles racing across your skin. You sigh, closing your eyes for a moment to relish the sensations he stirs within you.

“You’re incorrigible sometimes, Kento.” you whisper, feeling the weight of his affection enveloping you. The playful banter only adds to the intimacy, making it all the more special, as if you were sharing a secret joke that only the two of you understood.

“Only for you, my love.” he replies, his voice sincere as he pulls back just enough to gaze into your eyes. “But really, seeing you light up like that—it’s worth it. Just know I’ll always come back to claim what’s mine.”

epilogue

As the soft glow of the evening light filtered through the window, casting gentle shadows across the room, you and Kento found yourselves nestled comfortably together. You hadn’t left the bed much since this morning.

And your husband was incredibly happy about that. He wanted to spend as much time with you as possible. Everything about the room smelt like sex and sweat, that was to be expected. Your husband’s insatiable when he gets into it.

But the atmosphere was relaxed and intimate, the air filled with the kind of warmth that comes from deep affection. Everything about the aftermath was the passion of lovers who will always be in love.

And you couldn't help but admit that you felt blessed with that. This passion between you and Kento, it will never die. For bitter, for worse, for good and better — you will always have this. You will always be together like this.

After a playful exchange repeating over and over again, you both took breaks in between. For a while, you both watched some television. Kento seems to enjoy Love Island, so he wants to watch the whole series with you now. A little while later, the two of you talked a little bit about the little things you’ve seen and done lately.

Soon enough, you were sure you were hungry. Kento immediately kissed you and went to the kitchen, coming back with some bowls of favorite snacks and some refreshing drinks, on ice.

But of course, he urged you to drink the water most. With all the screaming he’s made you do, he’s a little bit more worried about your voice,

You both conversed about silly things now, laughing at how Yuji seems to be as silly as ever before. About how Gakuganji seems to continue to be annoyed by Gojo Satoru’s phone calls.

But then he talked about Gojo Satoru expecting another child on the way, albeit accidental. In that moment, you realized it was that moment. So, you took a moment to shift the conversation to that.

“You know, baby…..” you began, leaning your head against his shoulder, feeling the steady rhythm of his heartbeat beneath your cheek. “I know you’re still busy, I’ve been thinking maybe….just maybe…”

“You know surprises aren’t needed.” He laughs, lowering his head to press a kiss to your cheek.

“I know, I know.” You roll your eyes playfully but let out a small smile, leaning against his chest. “Don’t you think it’s time we consider having kids soon. I’m really happy to make that happen soon.”

Kento turned to you, his brow raising in playful skepticism, but a smile tugged at his lips. “Is that so? You’re ready to dive into the chaos of parenting, my love? You know it’s a lot of work, right?” He chuckled, the sound warm and inviting, filling the space between you.

You couldn’t help but grin back, your heart fluttering at the prospect. “Of course! But I think it would be so worth it. Just imagine our little ones running around, making messes and keeping us on our toes.”

He smiles at you fondly. “You think so?”

“Yeah, I know so.” You grinned at him. “I can also see you being the doting dad, teaching them all about fighting and how to protect themselves. Or you know, just making some bread from home! I do miss authentic rye bread from an expert in Danish baked goods. Imagine how our kids will feel when they eat it too!”

He laughed, a rich, hearty sound that echoed in the room and made you feel light with joy. “You think so? I suppose you’re right, my love. I can already picture myself getting wrapped around their little fingers. They’d have me wrapped around their hearts in no time.”

The sincerity in his tone made your heart swell with happiness.

Everything about your husband makes you feel happy everyday.

If life were to teach what happiness looks like, it would be him.

“Exactly!” you exclaimed, your excitement bubbling over. “And they’d have your strength and my charm. Can you imagine how adorable they’d be?”

Kento’s expression softened, a gentle smile spreading across his face. “You know, I’ve always wanted that. A family with you. You make everything better.” His words wrapped around you like a warm embrace, igniting a sense of hope and love within you.

“So, you’re on board with the idea?” you asked, your voice barely above a whisper, yet filled with anticipation.

“Absolutely, my love.” he replied, that playful smirk returning to his face. “But first, I think we need to indulge in another round of this.”

He leaned in closer, his breath warm against your skin, and captured your lips in a kiss that sent shivers down your spine. You melted against him, losing yourself in the moment, the kiss deepening as he pulled you closer.

It was intoxicating, filled with a mix of passion and love that made your heart race. Everything about Kento was just a pool you wanna drown in. Everything about him was worth drowning in. The world around you faded away, leaving just the two of you wrapped up in each other, a perfect blend of laughter, warmth, and desire.

When you finally pulled away, breathless, your cheeks flushed with warmth, Kento looked at you with that glint of mischief in his eyes that you adored.

“Okay, let’s talk about the details later, my love.” he said, grinning widely. “But for now, I think we have some important work to do to ensure that happens.”

With that, he pulled you back into another passionate kiss, laughter bubbling between you as you savored the moment. You felt the electric connection between you, the promise of a beautiful future hanging in the air, ripe with possibilities.

As you both continued to kiss, the playful banter resumed, filled with sweet nothings and playful teasing about the “practice” needed for the future family you envisioned. After all, practice makes perfect.

361 notes · View notes

diettwistup · 6 months ago

Text

HALF OF YOU

PAIRINGS: tashi duncan x f!oc, art donaldson x f!oc, patrick zweig x f!oc

SUMMARY: No matter how bright Tashi Duncan shined, her best friend, Milan Mikaelson, wasn’t far behind. Though seeming second best, Milan would never let that define her career. Holding as much fame as Tashi, Milan encountered Patrick Zweig and Art Donaldson. Would this encounter change the trajectory of her life, and would it completely alter her relationship with Tashi Duncan?

WARNINGS: challengers spoilers, reader is milan mikaelson, sexual situations, language, angst, plot alterations.

WC: 5.1K

NOTES: hiiii!!! hope y’all enjoy this next chapter cuz it’s not my fave thing ever LOL. was also too lazy to proofread so sorry if there's errors. i’m also gonna be going on vacation with no internet for a little over a week so next update will be after that! thanks for reading luv u 💋

READ BEFORE THIS: INTRO and ONE

CHAPTER 2: DOUBLE TROUBLE

CHALLENGERS TOURNAMENT, NEW ROCHELLE - 2019, 1:00 PM

Gnawing on my bottom lip, I gripped my dress as Tashi got up and cursed before walking off, disappointed with Art’s performance.

“Where the hell do you think you’re going.” I shot and grabbed her wrist, eyeing her up as I took my sunglasses off.

Shaking my grasp off of her, she bent down and spoke dangerously close to my face.

“If he’s not gonna play tennis, then I don’t wanna see shit.” She seethed and walked off, brushing off her dress with each stride.

As I watched her go, I could feel a pair of eyes on me. Darting my attention back to the match, Art was already looking my way.

Shooting him a sad expression, I put my sunglasses back on, huffed, and sat back in my seat.

All he did was shake his head and rub the sweat off his face while Patrick smirked proudly.

He sure seems to love this.

Sighing, I raised one hand to my mouth to bite my nails, the nerves of the match taking over my entire being.

At the next serve, I carefully watched the strategic movements behind the boy’s every motion. They have always been outstanding players, and I furrowed my brows as I thought back to the first time I saw them play against each other.

The stupidity of Tashi and I, dumb enough to pin two best friends against each other. We should have never stepped foot in that godforsaken hotel room.

Shaking my head, I closed my eyes. The crowd's roar echoed around me as I thought back to the night that started it all.

The night that ruined it all.

THE BOY’S HOTEL- 2006, 12:00 AM

“What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!” I exclaimed to Tashi as we made our way to the boy's hotel room. “Why the fuck would you let them come down when you knew I was there?” I shot at her as I smacked her arm.

Tashi smacked me right back, making me let out a hiss and shoot a cold glare at her.

“I don’t know why you're acting like you don’t have a game. You’re the best at playing hard to get.” Tashi responded and shrugged as if it was as simple as adding two plus two.

“You’re a bitch.” I muttered and rolled my eyes as the hotel came into view. “What do you even plan on doing with these two.” I raised my brow at her and studied her expression to gauge what was going through her mind.

“What we usually do,” she responded, smiling at me. Hypnotize them with our charm and have a good time, of course,” She said proudly as if this was second nature for us.

I won’t say that Tash and I haven’t had our fair share of fun with boys, but something like this, with two boys who knew their way around the game themselves, was certainly daunting.

“Fine, but you should have heard how they talked about us at your match. It was disgusting.” I pretended to gag and placed a hand on her shoulder.

“Perfect, we already have them locked in then.” She nudged my arm before leading the way to the room.

Rolling my eyes, I smacked her again before following behind her.

On the way to the room, I got lost in my thoughts. How did we get ourselves into such a situation? I hope Tashi doesn’t expect us to have a foursome of any sort because I don’t have the patience to deal with a whole ordeal like that.

Approaching the door, Tashi stopped to let me walk ahead of her.

“Perfect, Mila, you can see your ass poking out of your shorts.” She smirked and gently patted it until I swatted at her hand with a laugh.

“Fuck off, let’s go,” I scolded, waiting for her to catch up, as she knew which room to go to.

Once we reached the door, Tashi knocked and softly bit her lip. Scuffling was immediately heard behind the door, signifying that the boys were startled by our appearance.

I moved to press my ear to the door with a slight smirk which Tashi returned as she did the same.

“They’re crazy…” I whispered to Tashi, to which she responded with a nod and a soft hum.

When we removed our ears from the door, it swung open so quickly I couldn’t make out the motion.

The boys stood at the door, looking extremely disheveled. Patrick wore boxers and an unbuttoned linen shirt that looked like it had been shoved in his tennis bag and forgotten. Also wearing boxers, Art wore a beater t-shirt that looked like it had never been in the wash and dryer a day in his life. Both of their hair was ruffled and unkempt, making it look like they had just gotten out of bed.

Raising an eyebrow, I was the first to speak. “What, did you two just get done fucking?” I questioned as I looked between them and placed my hands on my hips.

Patrick just burst out into laughter while Art spoke up.

“No…fuck no…” He muttered with a laugh as he patted Patrick on the back.

Drunk as sailors.

I nodded at this before resting my eyes and glancing at Tashi, who smiled fondly at the two, but I knew she was plotting.

“So, hi,” Tashi spoke calmly with a smile that immediately brought the boys back to Earth as they moved aside to let us in the room.

I had to stop myself from covering my nose as we entered the room.

Reeks of beer and cigarettes…typical boys.

Two beds pushed together were messily made. Beer cans, cigarette buds, and clothes were everywhere, though it looked like someone had tried to tidy up a bit.

That explains all the noise.

Patrick mindlessly spoke to Tashi as I continued to scan the room, not noticing that Art was eyeing me up. Turning my head, I caught his stare, which didn’t make him falter. He only continued to stare before coming up to me and handing me a beer.

“Didn’t know you were gonna come.” He spoke as he looked down at me through lidded eyes. Tipsy eyes. And, of course, he had a smirk, but it spoke I’m glad you came, really.

I continued to study his expression as I let my guard down a pinch. I shrugged nonchalantly as I took a long swig of the beer, knowing I would need it to get through the night.

“Had nothing else to do. Figured why not.” I spoke calmly as I let my eyes rake over his entire figure, drinking up his messy look which he really really pulled off. Never would I ever admit that for him to hear.

Or me.

“Well, glad you’re here.” Art said as he took the beer can from my lips and sipped it while he stared into my eyes, flickering to my lips for a moment.

I kept my eyes trained on his as I refused to back down in this staredown, showing that I couldn’t be swayed that quickly just because he was extremely attractive.

“You two, come sit,” Patrick spoke up from the ground by the bed where he sat with Tashi.

Nodding at this, I waited for Art to take his eyes off mine before I made any movement to sit. After a few seconds, he nodded and placed a hand on my lower back to walk me to where everyone was sitting.

I shivered slightly at this as I softly bit my bottom lip, hiding this motion from him, but I knew Tashi saw it by her smug little smile that said I told you so.

We haven’t even done anything, and I suddenly feel like I’m in the trenches.

The next couple minutes were used to discuss how Patrick and Art met each other and how Patrick, predictable enough, taught Art how to masturbate, all while we all took sips from the beer can that Art had given me when we first got here.

“Y’all are weird as fuck.” I snorted, a bit tipsy, wiping my mouth from my last gulp as I looked between the two boys who had red cheeks from a mix of alcohol and embarrassment, and can’t forget, two big smirks.

“No, Mila. I think it's a cute story.” Tashi nodded with a smile in an attempt to reassure the boys jokingly—a tactic she used to fully reel them in.

I rolled my eyes at this and fake glared at Tashi. “Only if you’re fucked in the head!” I laughed again while the rest of them laughed with me.

“Don’t tell me you two haven’t done anything weird like that,” Patrick said, making me whip my head to him before glancing back at Tashi.

“Yeah, you two have known each other since the womb. There’s no way you haven’t done nothing.” Art added and took a long swig of the beer can before passing it to Patrick, eyes trained on me for longer than I would have liked.

I shook my head with a small laugh before looking back to Tashi, who gave me an eyebrow in return, signaling something.

You ready?

…

I’m ready.

We nodded at each other before standing up and looking down at the boys.

“You guys aren’t leaving-“ Patrick started but stopped when he saw the two of us moving to sit on the edge of the bed.

My eyes locked with both of them briefly as I flashed the most innocent smile I could muster.

Here we go.

“Patrick, come sit by me…” Tashi spoke and patted the space to her left.

You didn’t have to tell him twice. He sprung up so fast he spilled the beer can everywhere on the carpet, but he couldn’t give a fuck.

As he sat down next to Tashi, my eyes locked onto Art’s. I did not need any words to tell him to sit by me.

He took the hint immediately, got up almost as fast as his best friend, and sat beside me, thigh already touching mine.

I turned to face him with lidded eyes and a small smile. I could hear his breath hitch as Adam’s apple bobbed, signifying that he took a small gulp. I softened my eyes to let him know it was okay to relax and that he could be comfortable around me.

Even though Tashi wanted to play with these boys like putty, I felt a little different about the situation.

As I tilted my head at Art slowly, I saw his face contort into a grin that radiated his comfort and need.

Leaning in slightly, I placed my hand on Art’s chest, noting how firm it felt through his thin shirt. Art mirrored my leaning in but instead placed a hand on my thigh. As I neared his lips, I teasingly pulled away as I felt Tashi pat my back. I smirked slightly at this and turned around as my lips met hers instead of Art’s.

It was an innocent kiss, a tactic to get these boys right where we wanted them. This action certainly answered their questions about us, and I hope it was worthwhile.

Once again, I could feel Art’s eyes piercing the back of my head, so I moved my hair off my shoulder and tapped the side of my neck so he would know what to do.

Almost immediately, his lips were latched onto my neck. I wondered for a moment if he was a vampire because of the way he was sucking on my neck. I figured he was searching for a blood vessel. Poor baby must have been deprived of any female touch, but the way his lips sucked profusely on my pulse point, I could tell this wasn’t his first rodeo.

Tashi and I pulled away from our innocent kiss and shot each other small smirks when we noticed that Patrick and Art were too lost in our necks to give a damn.

I tapped Art’s thigh so he would know to stop, which he reluctantly did. His lips were a bit swollen, and I couldn’t keep my eyes off them. Biting my lip, I reached up and brushed a finger across his bottom lip. As I did this, Art grabbed my hand and studied it before gently kissing my finger where my nail had broken. My eyes widened at this as my heart threatened to beat out of my chest.

Keep. your. composure.

Shaking out of my daze at his action, I smiled softly once again and leaned in slowly to connect our lips, hands on the back of his neck, threatening to tangle in his blonde curls.

Pillows. His lips feel like pillows.

The kiss was soft until his hand moved from my thigh to my waist. He pushed forward a bit until my back fully hit Tashi and tried to part my lips by biting my bottom one, but I pulled away before he could get that far.

Too easy.

Licking my lips to taste him, I turned back to Tashi, who placed her hand on my cheek to kiss me lightly again. As her lips melded with mine, I gingerly placed a hand on the base of Art’s jaw and slowly pulled him towards Tashi and me’s kiss. Immediately, I could feel Art’s lips meld with Tashi's, mine, and then Patrick’s, knowing that Tashi had done the same with him.

Now, the four of us were all kissing, making me slightly clench my thighs. Only slightly.

After about five seconds, I felt Tashi tap my back to signal me to pull away slowly.

As we both pulled away, Art and Patrick were full-on making out, not noticing that the two of us had abandoned the kiss. I glanced at Tashi with a smirk as she watched them in satisfaction.

It took everything in me not to giggle as I watched the two continue to eat each other's faces fervently.

Specifically Art.

After a beat, Tashi spoke up.

“Okay.” She said, which made the boys freeze and pull away from each other.

Immediately, they both looked at us in shock.

Got ‘em.

I tilted my head at Art as I gently reached my hand out to trace shapes on his thigh while he looked down at me like I had three heads.

“That was cute…” I mouthed to him with a soft smile as he continued to eye me up in shock mixed with a bit of awe.

“Well, we should get going before our parents freak out and wonder where we are,” Tashi says. I sit up as I follow suit, cutting any tension in the room.

Standing up from the bed, I chuckled to myself as I brushed off my clothes and fixed my hair. “It’s been fun,” I said, aiming my comment at Art. Thank you for having us,” I finished with a small, innocent smile as Tashi and I left.

“Wait!” Patrick said which stopped us in our tracks.

Turning around, Tashi and I shared matching grins that we quickly hid when we faced the boys.

Art spoke up next as he looked right at me. “What about your numbers?” He asked as he stared at me like a puppy deprived of dinner.

I crossed my arms and shrugged. “If you win tomorrow, I’ll give you my number,” I said plainly, as if it were the simplest thing in the world.

“And I’ll give you my number if you win tomorrow,” Tashi said to Patrick just as plainly as I did.

Both boys shot each other smirks before nodding in agreement.

Tashi and I said our goodbyes before leaving the hotel room. When we were out of earshot, we both started laughing.

“We have them wrapped around our pretty little fingers!” Tashi exclaimed as she wrapped an arm around my shoulder.

I laughed at this and wrapped an arm around her waist. “I really hope Art wins,” I said in a dreamy tone of voice as I thought back to his face, lips, chest, everything, really.

Tashi shook me back and forth with a smile as she exclaimed, “I’m just ready to watch some good fucking tennis!” She laughed, knowing that the two boys were really going to battle it out with this new prize put into motion.

STANFORD UNIVERSITY - 2007 5:00 PM

As I slowly trudged from the tennis court to the dining hall, I felt my arms giving out.

“Fuck this damn bag,” I whined and went to a nearby bench to take a breather and bask in the California sun.

Today’s practice was by far the worst of the semester. I worked with my coach on my serve to prepare for my upcoming match, where I would face an opponent ranked decently high in the state.

Closing my eyes and throwing my head back to catch the rays of the warm sun, I let out a groan. I probably looked like a corpse to every passerby, but just like Tashi, they knew me, so hopefully, they would just smile and wave.

“Rough practice?” An extremely familiar and captivating voice snapped me back to reality.

Opening my eyes, I was met with my favorite pair of light blue eyes—something he would never know. Of course, a smirk adorned his features, and his blonde curls were tucked into a backward red cap, most certainly saying “Stanford” on the flip side.

“Art…” I spoke almost breathlessly as I sat up, brushed a piece of hair out of my face, and used my other hand to block the sun that Art’s head almost blocked.

“Hey, can I sit?” he asked, shoving his hands into his pockets, and nodded to where my bag was on the bench.

Quickly moving it to sit in front of my feet, I patted the empty seat next to me. “Sure.” I smiled at him and tucked a piece of hair behind my ear.

Over the summer, I would never allow myself to be so forward with Art Donaldson. I couldn’t speak for my present self, though. Since Patrick won the match, he and Tashi started dating after he scored her number. I, of course, was too upset to act like I didn’t give a damn about not being able to give Art my number. Tashi insisted that to keep their passion and drive for tennis alive, I keep up my end of the deal and don’t give Art my number. Hesitantly, I agreed as I knew how easily a stimulus like that can create great results. Since the match, Art and I have never spoken except for the occasional hello when passing by each other on the tennis court or dining hall. This moment was the first time I could speak with him since everything, and since I may have developed a slight…crush.

“So,” He started and turned his body on the bench to face me fully. “How have you been?” He tilted his head and tapped the back of the bench while studying my face.

Inhaling a sharp breath, I turned my body to face him fully, bringing one leg up and letting the other drape off the side of the bench.

“Do you want an honest answer?” I chuckled softly as I moved my hands to remove my hair from its braids.

In turn, Art laughed gently while smirking at me. His stare narrowed as he studied my face, acting like I was an old friend he had known for years.

“Well, if the honest answer is terrible and cruel, then I’m not so sure.” He responded and immediately matched my energy.

Damn you, Donaldson.

“Hey.” I softly laughed as I moved my dangling leg to kick his gently while I finished taking my hair out.

I wondered for a beat how I wanted to summarize months of memories, feelings, and experiences into one sentence, and this made me sigh.

“It’s been rough. Majoring in biology and the grueling tennis schedule makes me wanna rip my hair out.” I spoke in a low tone as I ironically and subconsciously began to play with a strand of my hair.

“I feel smothered.” I finished and silently cursed myself for acting so vulnerable.

That was three sentences, Milan. Not one.

As I stared at Art almost helplessly, his eyes softened.

“I feel the same way, trust me.” He chuckled softly before removing his hat and running a hand through his hair. “It really sucks, but it’s gonna be worth it,” He ended his thought before putting his hat back on.

“Fuck, and I thought I was the only one. Quite naive of me.” I laughed before looking back up at the sun. “It’s whatever, though. You’re right, and everything will come into place and be worth it.” I continued as I looked anywhere but at Art’s piercing stare.

Silence. He didn’t respond. He didn’t laugh. He did nothing except stare. Stare in a heavy silence that brought me back to the night in that damn hotel room.

After a few beats, I returned to my senses, slowly stood up from the bench, and brushed my skirt off.

“Well, I didn’t mean to stay here for long, so I’m gonna head off.” I went to pick up my bag as I spoke disappointedly.

I couldn’t allow myself to fall into the trenches. I needed to focus on my studies and tennis. Hard work makes everything worthwhile, and a boy isn’t part of that everything right now.

“Wait, Milan,” Art spoke up and grabbed my wrist, his grip as firm as it would be if he held his racket.

This made me freeze in my tracks. What the hell did he think he was doing?

My eyes slowly met Art’s as I parted my lips to speak, but nothing came out, so he spoke for me.

“It’s been months, Milan,” he started, his grip on my wrist still firm, his eyes scanning my face for any hints of discomfort.

“I know we only really talked with each other that one night and had no time to get to know each other, but I would like to get to know you better.” He didn’t falter. Not once. I don’t even think he blinked.

My lips had gone dry, and my voice, for some reason, grew hoarse.

“Art…” I slowly began as I looked down at his hand, gripping my wrists. “The four of us had a deal…” I made sure to tread lightly with a severe tone.

Two feet and ten toes on the ground. Don’t falter. Don’t give in.

“They’re a happy fucking couple, Milan. I doubt they give two shits.” He stated matter-of-factly as I felt his thumb rub up and down on my wrist.

How naive.

Biting my lip in thought, I began an internal battle with myself. I wanted this so bad. And I could tell Art wanted it just as bad as I did—possibly more.

I deserve a win other than tennis.

Sighing, I removed my arm from his grasp and moved to my tennis bag to look for a piece of paper. Instead, I found a piece of muscle tape and a small pencil. Quickly scribbling down my number, I could feel Art trying to see what I was doing.

“Here,” I said with slightly red cheeks as I stood back up and handed him the piece of muscle tape. “Don’t go blowing up my phone now,” I playfully scolded before picking up my bag and walking past him, glancing at the triumphant smile playing on his perfect features.

Perfect? …yeah.

Before I began my trek to the dining hall, I touched Art’s shoulder and whispered in his ear.

“I didn’t want to admit it, but I really wanna get to know you more, too.”

NEXT DAY, STANFORD DORMS 11:00 AM

MEET ME IN THE DINING HALL FOR LUNCH?

My eyes stared at the text in utter disbelief. Art certainly didn’t take any time once he got what he’d been craving all summer.

“Why do you look so shocked?” Tashi laughed from the foot of my bed as she hit my leg.

Fuck.

My eyes looked to her as I shut my phone, put it next to me, and picked my computer back up to pretend to look at my study guide for an upcoming biology quiz.

“My mom sent me a weird text,” I laughed awkwardly before covering my face with my computer.

“Are you fucking with me?” Tashi laughed as I heard her moving up towards my side of the bed.

She shut my computer to look at my face, which was for sure red as a tomato.

“You’re lying,” she smirked before sitting on her knees and clapping her hands. What is it? A boy? A girl?” She persisted as she grabbed my leg and widely smiled at me.

I rolled my eyes at this before clicking my tongue. “Why are you so dead set on the fact that I was texting someone romantically?” I crossed my arms and bit the inside of my cheek, probably a dead giveaway.

Tashi’s face fell as her brows furrowed, and she crossed her arms, mimicking me.

“You’re joking, right?” She started before studying my stern expression. “We’ve known each other for what, eighteen fucking years?” She used this as a tactic to crack me. “I know your every expression and what it means. I could write a thesaurus on you if I wanted to.” She stated as she sucked on her teeth, brows still furrowed.

I stared at her sternly for a few beats before sighing and turning my head to look anywhere but at her.

“Fine, you got me…” I trailed before uncrossing my arms to fumble with my fingers. “but this is the first time I’ve received a text, so it’s not important.” I put my hands up and looked at her as an explanation as to why she shouldn’t ask questions.

I should know better.

Tashi’s annoyed face instantly turned into a happy one as she bounced on the bed and continuously hit my leg.

“Who is the lucky guy? or girl…” She tilted her head with a goofy smile, which she would only show me.

“It’s a boy…” I sighed before turning my head to look at my closest, as it suddenly looked very interesting.

No matter how long I had known Tashi, I couldn’t gauge how she would react to this. She’s a very pushy person who likes everything to go her way, but I’m hoping that since it’s me, she will react differently.

She shrieked and shook my legs back and forth with a giggle.

She’ll be so disappointed.

“Who is it? Is it that cute boy I caught you practicing with the other week? Or that one boy that you sometimes study with from your Chemistry class? Or maybe it's that random guy from the baseball team I saw you talking within the dining hall last week?” She fired off in a millisecond as I stared at her in utter disbelief.

“Okay, first of all, how did you know about all of those? And second of all, the first guy is gay, the second guy has a girlfriend, and the last one was giving my pencil back to me after using it for a quiz we took in statistics.” I responded as I rolled my eyes so hard I thought the whites of them would turn permanent.

“I’m your best friend. I know everything.” She spoke eerily with wide eyes before breaking into a smirk. “So, come on! Tell me who it is!” She bounced repeatedly on the bed and shook me back and forth until I finally had enough.

“Fine!” I exclaimed and threw my hands up in the air.

Fuck it.

“It was Art, alright.” I threw my hands up as I bit the bullet and came clean.

Tashi’s face dropped almost instantly as his name fell off my lips. She wasn’t happy. Not at all.

“What the fuck do you mean?” She laughed in disbelief as she shook her head and moved her hands from my legs.

I immediately sat up more and moved towards her.

“I saw him after practice yesterday, and we got to talk,” I explained as I bit the inside of my cheek in anticipation. “He asked for my number, and I figured since everything happened months ago, there would be no issue…” I trailed off and looked her straight in the eyes with a pleading expression.

Tashi just stared at me and shook her head slowly.

“We had a deal with them…” She stared at me with an accusatory face.

“Tash, I know,” I exclaimed and grabbed her hands. “But you knew I liked him more than what happened in that hotel room. Plus, you and Patrick are happy, so why should it matter?” I asked and shook my head as I gripped her hands.

She stared at me as if I kicked her puppy and gasped in her throat. “Um, to keep their passion alive? To ensure they both strive for better and strengthen their relationship with tennis?” She spoke as if it was plain as day.

Furrowing my brows, I slowly shook my head and parted my lips, shocked.

“Is tennis all you care about?”

I shouldn’t have said that.

My words echoed in my mind as I retracted my hands from Tashi’s and bit my lip, feeling defeated. Her stare pierced into my soul as she looked away from me and placed her hands on her thighs.

“If this is what you want, go ahead. I can’t and won’t stop you.” She spoke slowly before eyeing me.

Fuck, I messed up.

“But never think for a second that I care about tennis more than you.” She choked out as she looked at the picture of us in fifth grade sitting on my bedside table.

At this, my eyes widened, and I nodded slowly as a single tear slid down my cheek. Moving towards Tashi, I wrapped my arms around her waist and hugged her.

“Pinky promise?” I whispered into her neck while she returned the hug.

“Pinky promise.” She responded and grabbed my hand to interlock our pinkies.

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octuscle · 9 months ago

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From tutor to rookie of the year

Hi, my name is Jake. My company has hired me to tutor a few students with poor grades. That's not necessarily the reason why I started working at the auditing company. But first of all, I'm new here and I'm not going to refuse right at the beginning of my career. And secondly, becoming a teacher had actually been an option for me. Maybe it's fate now or something.

The first lesson gets off to a very promising start. I almost have to tear myself apart to leave your office and get to school on time. But when I arrive, there is a yawning emptiness in the classroom. Only after fifteen minutes I hear noise in the corridor and a couple of football jocks barge in the door. A few still in football gear. And all obviously unshowered after training. Phew, it stinks. And as I look into the handsome, square-cut faces of the boys spraying with testosterone, I'm suddenly back at school. The small, clever but shy boy who, at best, the stars of the football team overlook and, at worst, stuff into the toilet. I clear my throat and say that I'm not here for fun either and that I'm asking for some attention. The boys barely react. Damn it, it's not my problem. I explain a few linear algebra problems on the blackboard and ignore the paper airplanes. I have my school-leaving certificate. I have my master's degree. And my bonus doesn't depend on the grades of these idiots. At least I hope so.

After the debacle of the first tutoring session, my appetite for the second is very dampened. But it was already hard enough to get this internship. The firm is one of the most prestigious accountancy firms in the city. And if my pro bono job as an intern is tutoring the idiots on the football team twice a week, I'll survive. Apart from the 60 hours a week in which I have to pore over balance sheets, that doesn't matter any more.

These days, the musclemen are even on time. And somehow nicer than last time. They even ask me reasonably sensible questions like whether you can predict the trajectories of footballs. I take this as an opportunity to tell them something about vector calculus. They collapse with laughter. "Bro, I was joking. And football isn't math. Football is strength and speed." I'm about to take a breath and say something about Newton and the relationship between force and speed. But instead of listening to me, the jocks start bragging to each other about their heroic stories on the field. And I can't help but listen to them spellbound. When the lesson is over, I look after them with fascination. I wish I could have been more like them at school.

Shit, because I'm the only nerd on the senior team who isn't a complete failure at sports, Coach made me give math tutoring to the football team. He thinks the Meatheads might have a little bit of respect for me. Shit! Them for me? I for them might be more correct! The thought of explaining math to my secret crush forms a wet spot in my Calvin Klein shorts.

I expected the boys to keep me waiting. If they were also punctual and disciplined off the pitch, they wouldn't need any help. And I don't want to tutor them any more than they want to be tutored. We reach a compromise. You listen to my math tutoring for half an hour. And then we'll go out onto the pitch for half an hour and play a bit of football. God knows I'm not unsportsmanlike. But soccer has somehow never been my sport. I'm more of a swimming pool or gym kind of guy. Team sports? Not really.

Shit, yeah, I'm no rocket scientist in math. But I have quite good grades in English and history. I'm not going to fail this year. Why the fuck do I have to go to tutoring with the other bros from the football team? I have no idea. But seriously, the tutor is a total loser. A beanpole in a stuffy shirt. The idiot even wears a tie. Seriously, who wears a tie these days? If I had to wear a tie, I'd change jobs. Or if I had to shower after training. Shit, these are just rules that can come from old fat men. Bros like me and my bros smell like test… Testo… Well that hormone stuff. Sweat, musk and Axe. If I didn't have to go straight to detention again, I'd let the loser smell my armpits… But I'm a sophomore on the team right now. Let the juniors and seniors do that.

"Jack, bro!" This is Chuck. The QB on the team. I can tell by his voice. And by his smell. And I'd also know it by the taste of his cheesy boner…. But he stays locked in his jockstrap cage right now. What a damn shame! "Bro, where were you in tutoring? The dean was there. You're in fucking trouble!" Shit, tutoring! I was at the gym. The other guys are all so pumped. I don't want to lag behind any longer. "Shit, dude, we said you were in the bathroom. The loser tutor didn't dare contradict us. But I think you have to let him suck you off so he doesn't tell on you." Hehehehehe, I like that idea. There are still 40 minutes until football practice… And I haven't cum yet today. "Is the loser still in the classroom?" I ask. Chuck nods. I fist bump him and say that I'll sort it out quickly.

If Chuck and Matt go to college next year, I have a good chance to be the QB. But until then I still have to build up a lot of mass. Those two are just in a whole different league. And I'm damn jealous of the hair on Matt's chest. You should see the bush under his arms. Dude, the man is going to be a fucking gorilla! Shit, I'm not half the man those two are. You can tell immediately by the size of the bulge in our compression shorts. Nevertheless, neither of them mind if I fuck them. But they like fucking me even more. Without eye contact. Otherwise it would be totally homo!

We skipped tutoring again today. Coch covers for us while we're in the gym or doing our laps on the cinder track outside. Nevertheless, it's still up in the air whether Chuck and Matt will be at college next year. And whether I'll be a junior by then. But screw it, NFL pros don't need to know math.

#male tf #muscle tf #reality change #age reduction #jock tf #nerd to jock #football jock #ai image

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lovecla · 3 months ago

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IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter six:

➴ warnings: none!!

➴ word count: 4.1k

➴ author’s note: thought it’d be great to give u guys jack’s pov please don’t kill me—or jack. also wanna say thank you to each one of you who take the time to read this series and give me your thoughts abt it. i cannot thank you enough. pls be patient with jacky, he’s just a boy :p nice reading yall!!!

liked by charlieputh, troyesivan, billboard and 3,899,092 others

sophiamontenegro 'rip to my feelings' is out now 🪄 i want to start this by saying thank you to everyone who helped me make this dream of mine come true.

all of the songs here mean the world to me, and i truly hope they help to heal some of you, like they healed me. please, don't let anyone make you feel like you don't deserve good things. you do, all of us do.

thank you grace, thank you john, thank you hannah, a special thank you to charlieputh and a huge thank you to all of you.

View all 8,270 comments

charlieputh You’re a genius and it was my pleasure 💙 congratulations, Soph!

morgan.grace I love you so much I might turn into a puddle. Soph, you’re one of the strongest, sweetest people I’ve ever met and I’m so grateful to call you my best friend. I watched you put so much effort and energy into this, and i am proud. Happy RTMF day 🪦

billboard I am crying, you’re crying, all of us are crying.

user1 i knew this was going to hurt but DAMN Girl what the hell

user2 it’s been hours and I’m still crying because of this goddamn music video. And i HATE charlie puth

user3 user2 NO GIRL BC SAME?? it’s so SAD

user4 Harris Dickinson if i fucking catch you on the streets you’re DONE

user5 off topic but do you guys think any of these songs were written for jack hughes…

user6 user5 honestly no,, soph said this album has been in the making for one year and apparently they just broke up last week?

_quinnhughes Congrats, Soph 👍

sophiamontenegro _quinnhughes thank u, quinny

user43 sophiamontenegro _quinnhughes CHAT WHAT DOES THIS MEAN???

— ♡

“HUGHES, the hell was wrong with you today?” Keefe’s voice sounded harsh and angry.

Even though there were two Hughes in the team, everyone knew who the coach was referring to.

“It’s just not a good day,” Jack mumbled, removing his uniform and not bothering to look up.

The locker room was dead silent, so everyone heard Keefe’s scoff. “Not a good day? More like not a good week,” he stepped closer, hands on his hips. “You’ve been off for the entire week and let me tell you something, son, we’re not making it to the Finals with you playing like you did tonight.”

Jack wanted to talk back so bad but deep down he knew Coach was right. He had been playing like shit, ever since that night at your house.

You. Just thinking about you made Jack feel like straight up shit. Something that never happened before.

He is handsome, he has thousands of fans. People paid to watch him play, people wore his jersey proudly. He could have any girl he wanted but still. Everything changed at that dinner, six months ago, when he saw you performing up close for the second time.

At that moment, he was mesmerized by you. Back then, he thought he was just horny and in the need of a good fuck but looking back now he knows that it wasn’t just that. It was something bigger than himself, yet something he couldn’t name.

“I get it, Coach,” Jack muttered, putting on his suit.

“I hope you do, kid, otherwise, you can just say goodbye to your NHL career and the Stanley Cup.” Coach barked before getting out of the locker room.

Ignoring the stares he was getting, Jack moved on autopilot, like he’d been doing the entire week, shoving his things inside his duffel bag and frowning.

“Cap, wanna go out and grab some drinks? I wanna get wasted!” Someone, Jack didn’t care to know who, shouted, talking to Nico.

“‘Can’t today, man,” Nico answered, duffel bag already on his shoulder. “I’m going to a concert tonight.”

That caught Jack’s attention, pulling him back from his thoughts.

“Concert?” He asked, looking at how everyone went quiet and stared at Nico. “Whose concert?”

“Well, you see…” Nico stuttered and somehow, even if he hadn’t said anything, Jack knew exactly whose concert it was. “Just. A singer?”

“Yeah, no shit is a singer, Hischier, I thought we went to concerts to watch electricians doing their shit,” Jack bited back, the frown just bigger now. “Whose concert, Cap?” He said the word like he was mocking Nico and even though he wanted to take that back, he didn’t. Nico was an amazing person and it wasn’t his fault you didn’t want anything to do with Jack anymore.

“Hum, well—”

“For fuck’s sake, man, just spit it out,” Bastian said, rolling his eyes. “We’re going to Soph’s concert. Launching party, whatever.”

“We?” Jack’s eyes doubled in size. “Who else is going?”

“She invited the entire team,” Mercer answered, and Jack could swear he was one step away from passing out. “And Zegras.”

“Yeah, the entire team minus you!” Zegras shouted, clearly not reading the room. None of the players said anything about your and Jack’s situationship-break-up but Trevor made it clear he was happy with the situation. “Zegras is out in the hunt again, baby, ‘gonna give Soph the real D!”

Jack didn’t even notice he moved until he felt a heavy hand on his chest, looking down and realising it was Nico’s hand and he was now toe to toe with Trevor.

“Watch the shit you say, Zegras. I’m not fucking with you.” Jack spoke slowly, eyes not leaving Zegras’.

“Like you’re going to do anything, Hughes. You lost the prize, now it’s time for her to know what a real man is.”

Jack stepped foward again, only to be stopped by Nico’s hand.

“She’s not a fucking prize and this is not a fucking game, asshole,” Jack said through his teeth, ready to punch Trevor right there and now.

“How old are you two?” Hischier hissed, separating Jack and Trevor like a dad would do. “Trevor, shut the fuck up and don’t talk about Soph like that. And you,” he looked and Zegras before looking at Jack again. “You can’t and you won’t do shit. You and Sophia aren’t a thing anymore and there’s no one to blame but yourself. Suck it up, Hughes.”

Jack wanted to punch all of them in their fucking faces. It wasn’t his fault! He wasn’t the one who published the article and he wasn’t the one who sent that fucking picture of him and Ava leaving that party.

So what if she was his ex? That was in the past. He didn’t even remember her name, for fuck’s sake. She meant nothing to him while you—

“Whatever,” Trevor shrugged, before leaving the room.

“Hischier,” Jack called before Nico left. He turned back and stared at Jack, eyes tired. Jack felt bad for acting like that and giving even more trouble to Nico but Trevor was a fucking assface. “I need to go to that concert.”

“Unless you have an invitation or a ticket, I can’t take you there, man.” He bit his lips. “I’m sorry, but I won’t do that to Soph.”

Jack hated how Nico was clearly choosing sides and he also hated how he said her name and how everyone seemed very comfortable with calling you Soph but he pretended that he didn’t care.

“I’m not going to talk to her, I just…” his lips formed a straight line. He wasn’t sure of what he wanted exactly, but he needed to see you. Ever since your album had been released, he had been playing it nonstop, trying to memorize every breath you took, every line you sang, every beat you produced. He just needed to see you. “I want to see her.”

“Man, you know I can’t do that. Grace will kill me.”

“I’ll deal with her, Hischier, I swear,” in that moment, Jack was glad everyone else had already left, otherwise it’d be humiliating.

Although he noticed, with shock, that he wouldn’t mind begging in front of people if he got the chance to see you.

Nico ran his hands through his hair, muttering something in German before nodding with his head once.

“Fine, but I swear to God that if you upset Grace or Soph or worse, both,” he got closer to Jack’s body, looking like he did when he was on the ice. Terrifying. “I’ll personally make sure you won’t do that ever again.”

Gulping, Jack nodded once, before following Nico.

— ♡

THE line outside the venue was gigantic, making the men inside the van yell and whistle.

Much to Jack’s dismay, all of the Devils who were your fans had been invited to your concert— except him, of course. Which he thought was really, really shitty, by the way— and they were all excited, wearing shirts with your face on it and holding banners with your name.

Jack had to wear an all black outfit, with a cap hiding his hair and sunglasses. He thought he looked ridiculous but unfortunately, Nico was right: you couldn’t see him. He knew that if you did you’d be upset and the last thing he wanted was to ruin your night and concert. So yeah, hiding himself it is.

They left the van, entering the building from the back entrance, not wanting to cause a commotion out there in the front. Jack had been told this was just a small concert but the place looked packed with people.

“Okay, so,” Nico started, wearing his Captain belt once again. “Grace will be here in a second, and she will give us the VIP necklaces so we can go to our sets,” he turned around, facing Jack. “I honestly don’t know what to do with you. Grace will probably kick you out but at least I did my part.”

Jack just nodded, already thinking of millions excuses he could say to Grace so she would say yes.

True to Nico’s words, Grace showed up not even a minute later, wearing a red, tight dress and heavy makeup. She looked beautiful.

“Hi, fellas!” She walked in, smiling brightly. “Nice seeing you all, Soph will be happy with you being here and— what the fuck are doing here?” Her smile was gone, and now the only thing left was a scowl on her face.

Jack smiled awkwardly.

“Grace, listen, he asked me to bring him here because he wanted to see Soph—” Nico started, only to be interrupted by Grace’s harsh words.

“I don’t give a single fuck, Nico, what the hell!” She was starting to leash out on Hischier so Jack knew he had to say something.

“She’s not going to see me, I promise,” he replied.

Grace laughed. “Of course she isn’t going to see you because you’re going to leave!”

“Grace, come on,” Jack muttered, ready to beg to another person just to see you. Fucking shit. “I can sit in the back, there’s like a thousand people outside. She won’t see me.”

“Baby,” everyone looked at Nico as he approached Grace. Jack frowned. Since when were they together? “I told him that if he did anything bad I’d punch the shit out of him myself. He will behave.”

“I’m not a dog—”

“Fine,” Grace sighed, loudly, already looking like she regretted saying yes. “Nico I swear that if Sophia sees him or if someone takes any pictures of him here, I’ll snatch your dick out of your body.”

All of the men there made an ouch sound, faces amused and terrified. Nico only nodded, after giving Jack the scariest look ever.

Grace gave them their badges and asked for another one for Jack. Everyone there was running around and shouting things, probably all worried about everything being perfect, and Jack found himself smiling because you were surrounded by people who cared about you and your work.

Turns out that sitting in the back really meant sitting in the back, because Grace gave Jack a really shitty seat that despite being small as fuck, had a really good view of the stage, even if it’d be impossible for you to spot him.

Jack’s hands were sweaty and his heart was racing in his chest. The place was packed with all different types of people, from children to adults, and some grandparents here and there.

He was proud. He remembered how excited you were for this album, for this little concert, and watching how you’ve managed to ace all of that, made him smile under his hand.

The rest of his teammates were sitting in the VIP section, really close to the stage, and hell if Hughes didn’t envy them. But he knew this was for the best.

Thirty minutes after he sat down, the lights dimmed and only the stage was on. The screams were so fucking loud and if Jack wasn’t already used to people screaming his ears off during games, he’d probably have a fit right there.

“Ladies and gentlemen, Sophia Montenegro.”

Nothing could ever prepared Jack for the sight of you on that stage. It’d been two weeks since you last saw each other and the last time was awful, his heart hurting every time he remembered the sight of you crying and remembering he was the reason why.

But watching as you stood on top of some kind of platform, wearing a black, glittery body suit, with heels and black, see through socks. Your hair was styled in a way that drove him absolutely crazy, and now he wasn’t so sure that coming to this concert was a good idea after all.

“One year, ten thousand bad moments

But it was dressed up in heated emotion

And I tried to look for the best in the worst

But like, fuck me, that caused a commotion.”

Your voice was perfect, of course it was. Somehow, you knew how to sing live even better than the recorded songs, and your stage presence was out of this world. Jack looked at you as you moved around, singing and dancing and waving at people and interacting with the band, not knowing what to do with the weight on his chest.

He was happy to see you, he really was, happier than he’d felt in this entire week, but fuck if he wasn’t hurt. Watching you from afar was even worse than not watching you at all, because he was reminded again and again that he lost you.

Even if he still thinks it wasn’t exactly his fault.

The crowd was loud, people were dancing here and there and Jack could swear the girl in front of him was crying.

“Oh, you're so vicious

Love me, then pretend you didn't

Crush my heart and wreck my image

Why you gotta be so, so, so

Oh, you're so vicious”

You were sitting in the middle of the stage, microphone in your right hand, singing with your whole heart. Anyone could see how alive you felt whenever you sang and honestly, it was beautiful to witness.

The song continued, and every second Jack was taken aback by how beautiful you were. So fucking beautiful. The most beautiful woman he had ever seen, inside and out, full of life and happiness and joy.

He only noticed that the song had ended when he heard people cheering louder than they were before, and he started to pay attention again.

There you stood, in the middle of the stage, trying to even your breath. You were smiling so hard, cheek to cheek, eyes shining so bright even Jack in his shitty ass seat could see it.

“Hi, guys,” you were out of breath but your voice still sounded like honey to Hughes’ ears, and he had missed the sweetness. So. Much. “Oh my god, there’s so many of you in here, what the hell.”

People laughed, and Jack found himself smiling.

“Hi, I’m Sophia,” you said, shyly, like the people there hadn’t paid to see you. “Thank you for being here, guys. It’s been a while since I last saw you guys face to face. Last time was in Coachella, back in April, right?”

People shouted many things, you smiled.

“So a week ago I released my fifth album, rip to my feelings,” more cheering. “I know the title is corny but I couldn’t find better wording. This album, and I’ve said this countless times, means the world to me,”

“Fuck Harris Dickinson!” Someone shouted and everyone started laughing, including you.

“Yeah, yeah,” you agreed. “I hope you like the show. I’ve also heard that we have some special guests tonight…”

Jack’s heart stopped. For some idiotic reason, he thought you’d say his name. Until he reminded himself that you and him were no longer a thing and you didn’t even know he was there.

“Please, please, please, make some noise for my favorite hockey team, the New Jersey Devils!”

The camera focused on the fifteen men sitting on the VIP section, who got out of their seats and started shouting, while showing off their merch, making the other people cheer too.

Jack knew he shouldn’t, but he felt jealous all the same. He should be there, cheering for you and kissing you in front of all of them. Maybe punching Zegras in the face while he was at it too.

“Thank you for coming, guys,” you smiled again, before you started singing the next song.

Jack was mesmerised with you for the next hour and a half. How you danced, how you sang, how you twirled around, how you looked so fucking gorgeous in that tight outfit. How your eyes shined, how your body was perfect, and how he wanted nothing more than you.

The concert went well, like everyone knew it would, you making yourself comfortable, and at home: talking with your fans, taking pictures with them, handing the mic to some of them, who sang awfully in Jack’s humble opinion. Even if the majority of the songs were sad and soul crushing, you made sure people enjoyed themselves.

You were a true sight.

“Now, this is going to be the last song,” some sad oooh’s were heard and you smiled, nodding with your head. “I know, I know, I’m sad too but you all have to go home and these people here,” you pointed at the band behind you. “Also have to go home. But,” you raised your finger, moving your body until you were sitting on the edge of the stage. Some of your fans shouted. “I have one more song for you. This one isn’t in the album because I wrote this recently, but I still want to show it to you guys.”

More cheers, more shouts, more people crying.

“This one’s called Bad for Business and will be available on all streaming platforms by midnight.” Jack watched as you smiled, making him raise and eyebrow. He didn’t know about this one.

“He's good for my heart but he's bad for business

Tears me apart when he grants my wishes

All of my friends think I've gone crazy

But they don't know me like my baby

We look good in photographs

I like the way you like to laugh at dirty jokes

I know they'll always land

Used to get work on time

But now you're taking up my nights

Never been so glad to be so tired

Ooh, I'm mad for you

It's sad but true and I know it

Ahh, you're on my mind

You stole my life and it's showin’…”

Jack couldn’t take his eyes off the stage, eating up every word. He knew this song was about him. It was as clear as day, and maybe he was just being cocky but he didn’t care. It meant that he still had a chance.

He's good (good), it's bad (bad)

The best I've ever had (best I've ever had)

And he's so nice, it's sad (it's sad)

He ruined all my plans

And he just makes me so crazy

I know everyone sees

That he'll be the death of me

He still had a chance. He could still try because it was clear: you were still in love with him. Why else would you sing this? Why else would you write something like this?

He got up, he had seen enough. He left the venue with his head low, trying to walk without being noticed. He knew exactly what he had to do, and even if it sucked, it was the right thing.

—- ♡

“I really hope there is a reason why you’re calling me in the middle of the night, Jack,” Quinn sounded tired but. He always did. “A good one, that is,”

“I need some advice,” Jack looked at his brother through the screen, noticing the eye bags and the tired eyes. Why the hell Quinn always looked like he had been hit by a train was unknown.

Quinn just hummed, signaling for him to continue speaking.

“It’s Soph.”

“Did something happen?”

Jack cringed. Maybe they did need to start paying attention to what happened online. “Yeah, well, someone took a picture of me leaving the Halloween party with that girl named Ava who’s apparently one of my exes and posted it online, making it look like we hooked up or whatever. Then, they talked shit about Soph and Soph kind of broke up with me after saying she was in love with me and basically calling it a mistake.”

Quinn stared at the camera for a good minute, and just when Jack was starting to think he’d fallen back asleep, he moved, caressing his face with his hand.

“The hell is going on in New Jersey.”

“That’s all you have to say?” Jack scoffed. “I didn’t call you for nothing. If I wanted whatever the hell this is I would’ve called Luke.”

“I mean, what did you expect to happen? One day your whore days would catch up on you. Everyone knew this.”

“Why does everyone keep calling me a whore? Is this how women feel?” Jack frowned.

“They call you that because you had a new girl every month. Every time you had a gala you’d take a new girl with you and of course people would talk about that.”

“Okay but I wasn’t dating any of them!” Jack raised his arms, forgetting that he was still holding his phone and dropping it. Picking it up, he continued. “So what if I had a new woman every month? The issue here is Sophia not wanting to be with me anymore!”

“I think that, before wanting to be with her, you have to know if you want a relationship at all,” Quinn said, calmly. “You’ve never had a girlfriend before, a serious one that is. A relationship is a commitment, especially when you’re dating someone as famous as Sophia.”

“I know that she’s famous, I don’t care about that—”

“It’s not about her being famous, jackass, it’s about people forgetting that she is more than that. She is more than the Sophia who sings and dances, she’s a person. That’s literally common sense.”

“I know that too,” Jack mumbled.

“Soph’s been through a lot with that son of a bitch who’s not even worth mentioning. I don’t know much, you probably know about it better than me, but what I know is enough to make me want to punch him with my stick.”

“Yeah,” Jack agreed. “I hate that fucking asshole. He cheated on her, lied, manipulated her and had the audacity to break up with her.”

“So, knowing all of that, how do you think she felt when she saw that picture?” Quinn asked, eyebrow arched. “The guy she’s in love with, holding hands with his ex.”

“I didn’t fuck her!” He raised his voice, tired of everyone saying the same. “I just took her home and went back to my place.”

“Yeah, but does Soph know that?”

Jack frowned. “Of course she does. I’ve told her multiple times that I was only seeing her. And Ava was drunk, I wouldn’t have done anything with her even if I wanted to.”

“Yes because it’s very credible that the guy who used to date a new girl every month now suddenly only dates a single girl. Jack, sometimes I feel like you just don’t think.”

“If I wanted someone to call me dumb—”

“You would’ve called Luke, I know. But right now, that’s what you need to hear,” Quinn sighed. “Look, I know it’s hard for you to understand but put yourself in her shoes. Just think.”

“Everyone keep saying this is my fault but I don’t see how I am the person in the wrong here. I didn’t publish the article, I didn’t fuck Ava—”

Quinn sighed loudly again, interrupting Jack and staring at the screen for a minute, again.

“What?”

“Sometimes I ask myself if we were raised by the same woman,” he shrugged. “Just imagine if Ma knew all of this. She’d probably yell at you.”

“Get to the point, Quinn,” Jack rolled his eyes.

“Look. I’ll try to make it simple,” he started. “Sophia is in love with you. She fell in love with you despite knowing that you have a long history of dating. But, she’s also hurt. And you made it all worse when you said the things I know you probably said.”

“I didn’t say anything that bad…”

“Oh, quit it, Jack. I know you,” Quinn smiled. “You probably made her cry too. That’s the drill. Anyways, you have to ask yourself how do you feel about Soph—”

“I love her.”

They both stayed quiet for at least five minutes. Quinn just staring at the screen like he was reading a newspaper article and Jack staring back at him, looking like he was about to explode.

He hadn’t stopped to think about what he truly felt for you. He knew he liked you, adored even, but he never thought of naming the things he felt whenever he thought about you.

But it was as clear as day. He loved you, he was in love with you.

“Well, then I think my job here is done.” Quinn finally said, breaking the silence.

“What?” Jack almost shouted. “What do you mean? You have to help me get her back!”

“I don’t have time for that and honestly neither do you,” he stated and, well, he was right. They were in the middle of the season, and that was their job. Jack needed to get a grip. “If I were you, though, I’d start by apologising and telling her that you didn’t have sex with Ava or anyone else for that matter.”

“Okay,” Jack breathed. “And then?”

“Figure it out yourself. You’re a big boy.”

Jack groaned, leaning back on the couch. “Fuuuck. This is so fucking shitty. I love her, and she loves me, why can’t we just be together?”

“You will, after you fix this mess.” Quinn yawned and nodded at you. “I’m gonna go back to sleep. You should too. You’ve been playing like shit lately.”

“Fuck you. Bye.”

“Bye.”

He hung up, throwing his phone on the pillow next to him.

How the hell was he going to fix this?

#jack hughes #jack hughes x you #jack hughes x oc #jack hughes x reader #jack hughes fic #jack hughes smut #jack hughes x singer!fmc #jack hughes x singer!reader #IYLMLMK

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hwangism143 · 4 months ago

Text

drunk promises.

chan watched as you stumbled out of the doors of the bar, beaming at him and holding up a packet of what looked like french fries. it was your friend groups bi-monthly night out, and who was he to deny you some fun?

you were evidently drunk, and possibly the only one since most of your friend group was either pregnant or had kids at home. chan wrapped you in his arms, his familiar scent engulfing you.

chan picked you effortlessly and felt you giggle against his neck. he laughed and placed you in the car, helping you with your seatbelt, stealing a few french fries in the process.

when he started the car, you asked, "chan?"

"hm?" he replied, turning to face you.

you turned to him with a lovesick grin, "do you love me?"

chan had to stifle his laughter as best as he possible could. gosh, you were just so cute. chan laced his fingers through yours, opting to steer with just one hand.

"y/n, baby," he said gently, "we've been married for three years."

your face instantly lit up and you placed your cheek against the padding of the car seat. "oh yeah!"

chan laughed and ruffled your hair, softly kissing you at a red light to remove the pout on your face.

"chan."

"hm?"

"let's make a baby."

"what?"

chan nearly crashed the car then and there. it wasn't that he didn't want kids. it was just that the two of your never properly discussed it, prioritizing your careers over starting a family. but he should've known it was coming; baby fever had both of you in it's deathly grip.

"i love you, you love me, and when two people love each other very much-"

you babbled on and on about how having a baby would be advantageous.

"we can get free cuddles and not have to go to other people's homes!"

"looking after a baby is more than just free cuddles honey."

you frowned, your lip caught between your teeth. "i know! we'll do the taking care part too. i can change the diapers in the morning, and you can do it in the night, since you don't sleep anyways."

you continued with a satisfied smile, "and then we'll get free cuddles."

chan watched you with what he bet were literal hearts in his eyes. when your initial enthusiasm died down to a form of exhaustion, you placed your head against his shoulder and yawned.

"promise me you'll talk about this when you're sober?"

"promise," you sighed sleepily, hooking your pinky finger with his and giving him a triumphant smile.

god, he had never loved you more. but that would be a lie. he found himself loving you more with each passing second he had knowing that he loved you and you loved him.

(ten months later proof of that promise was nestled in chan's arms and now he had two people whom he could proudly expend all his love on for the rest of forever if possible.)

liked this fic? please reblog and comment! it means everything to me and I love reading your thoughts <3

: ̗̀➛ current permanent taglist:

@linoalwaysknows @moon0fthenight @hyulino @palindrome969

@squishybinnieee @lastgreatamericandynasty1 @stayinlimbo @farfromsugafanfic

@hongshuaknow @cookiesandcreammy @kayleefriedchicken @toomanybiasz

@seooj444 @soaplickerrr @nappynapnaps @lina-linny @yrqrnc

(if your name is in red please check your tumblr settings; it won't let me tag you)

also compulsory tagging @calypsohan (hi maxie this is for you and your broken ankle, get better soon by the power vested in a sappy chan drabble written by yours truly!

requested by: @15092000volcano (i hope you like it lovie, i added my own spin on it hehe)

#stray kids #skz #chan #chan drabble #bang chan x you #bang chan fluff #bang chan x reader #bang chan imagines #bang chan #bang chan x y/n #chan x reader #- via's fics <3

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linkemon · 3 months ago

Text

Confession headcanons

You can check my Masterlists both in English and Polish here. Other headcanons from Twisted Wonderland can be found here.

Consider supporting me on Ko-fi. You can also check out my commissions if you're interested.

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 of the confession headcanons.

This part contains: Deuce Spade, Lilia Vanrouge and Vil Schoenheit.

Deuce Spade

• Ace would have realized what was happening to Deuce faster than him. Spade had always liked you very much but he didn't even realize when his feelings started to go in a completely different direction. He stopped seeing you as just a friend and started to imagine what it would be like if you spent even more time together alone. Which with your friends always looking for trouble was really hard.

• Ace would come up with several potential plans, each of which would backfire. The flowers? Ruined by Grim. The letter? Misplaced somewhere. Everything would turn against Deuce. His friend, tired of it all, would tell him to just get a grip because he had no more options.

• To say Deuce was shaking the whole way to you would be an understatement. But in the end, he decided he had to be himself. Deuce wanted you to love him like that. So he went exactly as he was, at night when the thought occurred to him. In his pajamas, during curfew in Heartslabyul. He figured he'd admit it to the prefect in the morning, like an honor student.

• When you opened the door for him, he said what was in his heart in one breath. He promises to love you just the way you are. Because he knows he's not perfect himself. He'll try to change, for you. Hard work is his specialty. So give him a chance and you definitely won't be disappointed.

Warning! This part contains spoilers for the beginning of the 7th book!

Lilia Vanrouge

• This would be a confession that would survive many trials. From the very beginning, something drew you to him. Maybe because, as it turned out later, Lilia is a completely different student than everyone else at NRC. Because of his flirtatious behaviour, it is easy to perceive it as fun. Something seemingly non-binding. As if everything was fleeting for him because after all, he had lived so many years. That is why you would have to wait for a real, sincere: I love you.

• When he announced he was leaving school, you were devastated. Here he was, announcing the news to everyone and you were standing at his farewell party, looking him straight in the eye with boundless sadness. Lilia truly believed it was for the best. Until Malleus decided to put everyone, including you, into eternal sleep.

• When you woke up in Vanrouge's dream, he wasn't the same fae you knew. You didn't really want to admit it was him but with every passing second, you began to understand him better. All the reasons why he became who he was. The lengths he would go to when he loved someone. It was then that you realized that only now did you fully understand him.

• When Lilia pulled you desperately to him in the dream, you didn't know what to do. He was your beloved but also a general who shouldn't exist anymore. His lips wandered for a moment. It wasn't a gentle kiss. Quite the opposite, it expressed hunger and longing. It said what words couldn't before the dream separated you. Now you have to do everything in your power to be able to feel it once more.

Vil Schoenheit

• Vil doesn't look for people who can't match his determination. He's got his life in order and knows exactly what his goals are. He's only changed the methods to achieve them. So when he realized how much he cared about the potato, he knew you had to grow up to that level of determination.

• He gave you time to read the gestures that expressed romantic interest. At the same time, however, he was very direct. He didn't want to leave anything unsaid. He waited for you to realize it and ask directly. He loves you and is able to do a lot for you. He made it clear that you have to accept that his career won't go anywhere and will be an important part of your lives. However, if, despite this, you return his feelings, he will move mountains for you because he knows he can. When you were already sure that you felt the same way, he asked you out on a real date.

• The date was classic and classy. A bouquet of wine-red roses. In addition, you, dressed in the best, elegant clothes that Vil chose for you two. An expensive restaurant and exquisite dishes that melted in your mouth. Afterwards, a walk. The starry sky above you, which turned into a cluster of torrential clouds halfway there. However, this gave you the opportunity to play a truly cinematic scene.

• You will remember the kiss in the rain for the rest of your life. Just like running in the downpour to the nearest free roof, covered with Vil's jacket, while holding his hand. His sincere laughter is not something you hear often. It will play in your ears like a melody for a long time.

If you'd like to be tagged in the next part of Twisted Wonderland headcanons, let me know!

#twisted wonderland x reader #vil shoenheit x reader #lilia vanrouge x reader #deuce spade x reader #headcanons #tw x reader #ace trappola #twisted wonderland x you

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shitsndgiggs · 2 months ago

Note

heyyy Kaya!

im so sorry again haha i feel so greedy. May I have a fic where reader x jobe bellingham. Reader is also from Birmingham and has been Jobe’s childhood best friend. And finally when he goes to Sunderland Jobe begs her to stay with him and they both open up on their feelings for each other tyy

JUST WANTED TO SAY UR MY FAV WRITER EVER. IM SO HAPPY YOU WRITE. MASHALLAH. THANK YOUUU FOR TAKING IN ALL MY ANNOYING REQS HAHA

COME WITH ME - JOBE BELLINGHAM

Jobe asking you to move with him

Jobe Bellingham x fem! reader

︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿

The news hit me like a punch to the gut—Jobe was leaving Birmingham. He was off to Sunderland for a new chapter in his football career, and even though I knew this was a big opportunity for him, it made me nervous.

The thought of him leaving, of being so far away, made my stomach twist.

We’d been best friends since childhood, growing up side by side on the streets of Birmingham. He was always there, and now, everything was about to change.

I sat on the edge of the park bench where we’d hung out countless times, my mind racing.

Jobe was pacing in front of me, hands running through his hair, eyes flicking to me every few seconds like he was trying to gauge my reaction. “You’re not saying anything,” he mumbled, his voice edged with worry.

“Please, say something.”

I finally looked up at him, my heart heavy. “You’re really going to Sunderland, huh?”

He stopped pacing, his expression softening. “Yeah... it’s a big move, but it’s the right one for my career.”

I nodded, forcing a smile. “I know. You’re gonna be great there, Jobe. I just...” I trailed off, unsure of how to express the pit in my stomach. “I just don’t want you to forget about me.”

He blinked, stunned. “Forget about you? Are you mad?” He dropped onto the bench beside me, his knee brushing against mine. “There’s no way I could forget you. You’re my best friend. You’ve always been there, ever since we were kids.”

“But it’ll be different,” I muttered, staring down at the grass. “You’ll be up there in Sunderland, making new friends, living a new life. And I’ll just be... here.”

He was silent for a moment before letting out a deep breath, turning his body to face me fully. “That’s actually what I wanted to talk to you about.”

I frowned, glancing up at him. “What do you mean?”

Jobe rubbed the back of his neck, clearly nervous. “I don’t want to go without you,” he blurted, his words rushing out. “I don’t want to leave you behind.”

My heart skipped a beat. “What?”

“I’m serious. I’ve been thinking about it for weeks. I don’t want to do this without you,” he said, his eyes pleading. “I need you with me.”

I stared at him, my mind racing. “Jobe, you can’t just take me with you. It’s your dream—”

“And you’ve always been part of that dream!” he interrupted, leaning closer, his voice earnest. “You’re my lucky charm, Y/N. You’ve been there for every big moment in my life, and I don’t want to do this without you.”

My heart pounded in my chest as he continued, his words coming fast and a little frantic. “I need you there. You’re not just my best friend—you’re everything to me. I didn’t want to say anything before, but... I have feelings for you. I always have. And I can’t imagine going to Sunderland and leaving you behind. I can’t...”

His words started to jumble together as he rambled, trying to convince me. “We could make it work. We could get a place together, and I promise it wouldn’t be weird. Or, well, it might be at first, but we’d figure it out. And I’ll be there for you, I swear. We could—”

I couldn’t take it anymore. Before he could finish his sentence, I reached up, grabbed his face between my hands, and pressed my lips to his.

The world seemed to freeze. His breath caught, and for a second, he didn’t move. Then, as if everything finally clicked into place, he kissed me back.

His hands slid up to my waist, pulling me closer as the tension and nervous energy between us melted away.

When we finally pulled apart, he stared at me, his eyes wide, his breathing uneven. “Does this mean... you’ll come with me?”

I laughed softly, shaking my head. “You really do talk too much, you know that?”

He grinned, his hands still resting on my hips. “Yeah, but... you love it.”

I smiled, my heart feeling lighter than it had in weeks. “Yes, Jobe. I’ll come with you.”

His grin widened, and he let out a breath of pure relief. “Good, because I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

I leaned my forehead against his, our noses brushing. “You don’t have to worry about that. I’m not going anywhere.”

Jobe let out a soft chuckle, pulling me closer. “Thank God.”

#football imagine #football x reader #jobe bellingham x reader #jobe bellingham

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padfootagain · 3 months ago

Text

Love in Verses (II)

Chapter 2 : ‘Through me the way to the City of Woe’

Hi, everyone!!! Here we go for a second chapter! Drama is upon us, the plot is plotting! Let me also introduce you to Samantha, Andrew’s partner… I’m sure you’re going to love her a lot…

I hope you like this series! Tell me what you think!

****

Pairing: Hozier x fem!reader (professor!AU)

Warnings: slow burn, angst, hurt, hurt/comfort, tooth-rotting fluff in later chapters, some scenes in later chapters will have heavy sexual themes even if it’s not explicit nsfw description, so minors here

Summary: Your life seems perfect. You're engaged, your career is thriving as you become an assistant professor at Trinity College, and this Andrew Hozier-Byrne you're sharing an office with seems to be a nice guy you hope to call a friend soon. Life seems to be smiling at you... until everything goes sour. When your fiancé breaks up with you, your perfect world shatters. And when your colleague also gets his heart broken soon after, your shared office seems to be a curse rather than a blessing. But Andrew seems determined to mend your broken hearts... Will things finally go according to plan?

Word Count: 4510

Masterlist for the series – Hozier’s masterlist – Main masterlist

Through me the way to the City of Woe, Through me the way to everlasting pain, Through me the way among the lost. Justice moved my maker on high. Divine power made me, Wisdom supreme, and primal love. Before me nothing but things eternal, And eternal I endure. Abandon all hope, you who enter here.

Dante Alighieri, The Divine Comedy : Inferno, Canto III, 1321

Andrew was tired, but then he was tired all the time.

As he prepared himself a strong coffee that morning, Sam was busy on her phone, probably going through her social media or reading the news. It didn’t really bother him, he was quiet in the morning anyway, liked to start slowly, to emerge into the world in a silent and gentle way. He was naturally a night owl, it was a struggle every morning to get out of bed early. At least, before the new year of classes started, he could go to work later, no classes schedule early these days.

Elwood was sleeping again. After an early walk around the neighbourhood, the dog was back on his comfortable bed, curled in a black and white ball, softly snoring. Andrew looked at his dog with love, refraining from petting his head, choosing to let him rest instead. He was a good boy, he deserved all the sleep he wanted.

He thought of you as he poured some coffee in his favourite mug. The meeting to distribute classes for the upcoming year was today. Of course, there had been one already before summer, so lecturers could begin preparing their classes if they needed. But some new arrivals would change a few things, some negotiations between lecturers too. Andrew himself was going to switch a class with Colm, another professor from the English department, inheriting a class about Yeats’s poetry instead of biblical studies. If he wasn’t against some religious metaphors – and given the weight of religion in Ireland, Andrew reckoned that he could never escape from it anyway – he was happy to avoid teaching about it.

But you were new at Trinity, and he wanted you to enjoy yourself during your first year. Upon his arrival, Andrew had lacked a guide, someone who would explain to him how things worked, especially the more selfish and ruthless side of the institution. If Trinity was wrapped in traditions, it was also filled with professors who cared little about their colleagues thriving in their academic pursuits, especially if that meant compromising with their own wants. Some professors were kinder than others, more willing to compromise. He’d help you navigate through the meetings, and hoped you could get to choose your classes too…

“My mother wants to invite us on Sunday,” Sam broke the silence that covered Andrew’s kitchen. A blank silent, an emotionless one; neither uncomfortable of comfortable, one that was there to settle on the furniture and in the corners of the room and simply lay there, undisturbed.

“I can’t on Sunday, I’m helping Jon with his film project, and then I’ll have lunch at my parents’. You were supposed to come to lunch with me.”

Andrew turned to Samantha then, sipping on his coffee and grabbing an apple as a breakfast. She said nothing, but her frown spoke volume. She was annoyed, maybe even angry.

“It was planned, baby. I’m sorry, we can go next week.”

“I think I’ll go see my parents anyway,” she said, her tone cold and firm, the one Andrew knew meant that he had no chance of changing her mind. He heaved a sigh, rubbed at his tired eyes with the back of his hand.

“As you wish, I’ll warm my mom.”

“You’re really not coming with me?” she asked, and her eyes were throwing daggers at him.

Andrew bit on the inside of his cheek, his stare growing sterner as well.

“I had planned to spend time with my family, and my brother needs my help. I’ll come with you another time.”

We had planned to spend time with my family… but he didn’t say that out loud, unwilling to start an argument.

She mumbled something under her breath, turning to her phone again; something about ‘a useless film’, and Andrew didn’t want to hear her comment, he knew he wouldn’t like it.

“Won’t you be late for work?” she asked, her voice calmer again, but the remark annoyed Andrew anyway.

“I don’t have classes, and the meeting is at 1pm, I can take my time.”

She could have added a comment on his time blindness, but she didn’t, and he was grateful for it. He relaxed a bit thanks to that.

“Busy day for you today?” he asked, and she heaved a sigh in response.

“Yeah, I don’t think I’ll come over tonight. Besides, we might go for drinks with the guys from the tech company we’re working with at the moment. Do you remember? I told you about them.”

“Of course, I remember, honey,” he answered with a soft, tender voice.

“I still haven’t finished that bloody logo for them…”

Andrew was brought back to their university days then, when she studied art and he studied literature. When she longed to paint all day long and he fumbled through notebooks and broken guitar strings. When they both had dreams that were too big for them. They had made a choice, had decided to finish their degrees, and not to make the hardest of the sacrifices that would have opened the gates to a life filled with art. Andrew had changed major from music to English during his first year, had passed his exams instead of spending his time in a studio. Samantha had specialized in design and publicity, and had given up her brushes that painted the coasts of Ireland in favour of simpler shapes created on a screen. Andrew couldn’t say that he had regrets about it. He liked his life like this, on the outskirts of Dublin, sharing his love for poetry, writing his own poems, waking up most days by Samantha’s side, even if after all these years she still didn’t want them to move in together, and he couldn’t fathom why. He loved his job beyond measure, always finding a fascinating detail to study, something new to read that would shake his world. He still sang with friends when he felt like it, sometimes wrote music to fit his poetry. He had a full life, a happy one, he couldn’t complain, really.

He thought about the engagement ring he had bought once, when she wasn’t ready to get married. She had said no, it had broken something inside of him. But he loved her, he would be patient, he could wait, and anyway, that was years ago…

“You’ll do an amazing job, you always do,” he encouraged her, but she rolled her eyes.

“You’re too sweet sometimes,” her words were spoken as criticism, not as a compliment. He clenched his jaw.

“Anyway, I’ll be pretty busy too, today,” he said, even though she hadn’t asked about his plans for the day, but then she hardly ever asked. She listened when he spoke about it though, and that ought to be enough. “We have our final meeting to select the classes we’re going to teach. I’m a little worried for Y/N, though.”

“Why? I’m sure she can take care of herself.”

Sam’s tone was a little dry still, he wasn’t sure if she were jealous or simply still annoyed.

“Trinity isn’t always filled with the nicest people. A lot of academics are quite selfish sometimes. I want her to have a nice time teaching. She seems very nice. And I arrived only last year, I know how stressful this situation can be.”

Sam nodded, but didn’t seem convinced.

Andrew threw the core of the fruit in the bin, finished his coffee, washed his mug. He didn’t want to argue, didn’t want to fight. Still, for some reason, he really wanted to talk about you. He had been worried upon learning that someone would share his office now, and he was relieved to find that you were kind, smart, and everything but annoying. He hoped the two of you could become friends.

“Y/N said that she found a poster for the office too! Can’t wait to see what she’s chosen.”

“Nice,” Sam nodded, and Andrew knew she wasn’t paying attention anymore.

He let out a long exhale through his nose, and she didn’t notice. He grabbed his water bottle, crossed the room, stopped to drop a peck on her head as he walked by her.

“Have a nice day, babe. I love you.”

“You too. Love you.”

She didn’t look up from her phone, and it sounded automatic, the way she answered. Andrew remembered when they started dating, about seven years ago. Both in their early twenties, young and naïve and heads full of dreams. She used to stare at him for hours, she used to look him in the eyes every time she said she loved him, to make sure he knew she meant it. He wasn’t so sure she meant it every time she said it anymore…

He pushed the thoughts away; he reckoned that this was his busy, anxious brain talking. Instead, he put on his shoes and his denim jacket, grabbed his bag and slung it over his shoulder. He stopped thinking about Sam, and thought about you and the poster you had promised you would bring today, and he walked out of his flat.

The meeting was over, and you seemed happy. Actually, you seemed ecstatic. And it made Andrew happy as well.

He had managed to get the class about Yeats, as planned. He had helped you through the meeting, discreetly, in whispers, but it was enough for you to secure classes you were interested in teaching. This year, you would teach three classes bound directly to your research, a general introduction to 19th century English literature, another about revolutionary writings in which you planned on including a fair share of pamphlets about women’s rights, and another about 19th century novels. You were buzzing with excitement as you walked back to your office, chatting with Andrew and his good friend Colm.

“I have so many things to prepare, but also… I feel very confident in these subjects,” you grinned at the two men.

“You can’t be happier than Andy finally teaching only classes he wanted,” Colm laughed, bright and loud, throwing his head back like a child despite the fact that he was middle-aged man.

Andrew nodded, heaving a relieved sigh.

“I thought Lydia was about to make a scandal…”

“She didn’t want you to leave one of the difficult classes. You’re too popular a teacher for that.”

Andrew rolled his eyes.

“I definitely am not.”

“You are too! Students love him,” Colm added, turning towards you. “And I will easily admit he’s a good professor, great at explaining things, and always very calm. But let’s be honest, the fact that most of our students are attracted to him helps a lot.”

Andrew looked away, trying to hide that he was blushing, but you laughed anyway.

“Such a pretty mug!” Colm teased, trying to grab Andrew’s chin, but he merely pushed his friend away, laughing.

“Quit your nonsense, would you?” Andrew laughed. “Don’t listen to him, Y/N. He loves talking shite about others.”

“That is not true! Y/N! Please, with your feminine point of view… tell him I’m right.”

You chuckled, shied away, but answered anyway.

“Oh, I’m sure Andrew must be popular, yes. I would have definitely preferred staring at his face when I was a student, compared to the old dinosaurs I had to put up with.”

Andrew was blushing so hard, even his ears were turning a bright shade of red, but he couldn’t refrain his grin nonetheless.

“Please, tell me I don’t fall in that category!” Colm protested, making you laugh.

“No… not quite yet. You still have a couple of years ahead of you,” you joked, and Andrew burst into laughter, while Colm mumbled something under his breath, rolling his eyes.

“Well, children, this is my stop, have a good day,” he mumbled, entering his office while Andrew and you continued a bit further.

“I’m glad you’ll give classes you’re interested in,” Andrew said, giving you a warm smile.

“Thank you so much for helping me throughout the meeting. It was… a lot to take in.”

“Yeah, some people here are proper gobshites.”

You laughed at that, entering your shared office.

“Hmm… I have noticed, yes. You seem particularly fond of Ian,” you chuckled, and Andrew rolled his eyes.

“I’m a very peaceful kind of lad, but that arsehole deserves to get some sense being punched into him.”

You raised a surprised eyebrow at that. If you had been teasing, the fact that Andrew had turned more serious as he answered made you intrigued now, rather than playful.

“Really? What did he do?”

Andrew stared at you for a few seconds, wetting his lips before he would answer.

“Nothing illegal, don’t worry. But he’s an arsehole. He will destroy your career and reputation if it serves his interests. Especially if you’re a woman.”

He saw you clenching your jaw at that last remark, and he heaved a sigh.

“I’m sorry,” he shook his head, and he hoped you could see that he meant it.

“Don’t be sorry, it’s not you who is at fault. Anyone else I should be cautious about?”

“Mahon, O’Reilly, Evans, Hillstone and Patterson.”

You raised a surprised eyebrow.

“You’ve got a whole list ready,” you pointed out.

“I’ve been here for a year. Fool me once, shame on you…”

You slowly nodded, Andrew sighed again.

“Don’t worry, the rest of the bunch are nice though. Most of them are nice.”

“I’m used to it.”

You shook yourself out of the conversation, a smile growing on your features.

“I have something to show you!”

Andrew frowned a little at that, bending to avoid the lamp hanging from the ceiling as he walked over to your desk. He had grabbed his thermos filled with his favourite brand of tea.

“Really?”

You pulled out a rolled poster, and he laughed.

“Oh! So you did settle on some decoration!” he pointed out, while he opened the buttons of his grey tweed waistcoat. He buried his hand in the pocket of his tweed pants while you fumbled with the empty frame.

He put down his thermos on the edge of your desk, then pushed back a strand of hair that was falling across his eyes, readjusted his glasses upon his nose. You were quick to place the poster in the frame, and you grinned up at him once you were done, right before turning the frame around to show him the poster.

“I love this illustration. I had it hanging in my dorm when I was a student, and then in my first apartment. But my fiancé finds it a little… dark. And he’s not particularly interested in literature so… he doesn’t really get it. Anyway!”

You stopped your little rambling, grabbed the frame, and showed it to him.

Andrew raised a surprised eyebrow, immediately recognising Gustave Doré’s illustration of Dante’s Inferno.

The black and white print showed Virgil and Dante standing on the edge of a precipice, staring at a hurricane carrying the souls of sinners, talking to a couple crying in their everlasting punishment. Andrew had not read the book since his own college days, but he remembered that this was the punishment for those guilty of lust.

“Do you like it? Can I hang it?” you asked, an excited smile he found adorable on your lips. “I thought the black and white would fit your poster quite well.”

“Sure, go ahead. Need help?”

But you were already placing the frame against the wall.

“I have to admit, I’m quite surprised by your choice,” Andrew inspected the print, leaning against your desk, his hands still in his pockets. “I didn’t picture you as a fan of Dante… especially given his… conservative thoughts.”

“I love Inferno. I’m not going to pretend that I love the entirety of the Divine Comedy, but I love Dante’s image of hell. The haunting part of it. The way it is structured. Of course, it’s medieval thinking about issues that have radically changed now, but… It was a long time ago. If I don’t appreciate all of his thoughts, I do admire his imagination. Besides, it was a heavily political book. I’m surprised you don’t give him more credit for that.”

He answered your teasing smile with a genuine one.

“I do remember a little bit of that. Last time I read it, though… I was a student and hadn’t chosen to suffer through it. Besides… I think I was a little too young to understand it fully.”

You nodded.

“I’ve read it many times. I don’t know, there’s something… something about it that draws me in. Not the Christian moral lessons, of course. But just… I don’t know… there’s something fascinating about it. And I often wonder what our version of hell would be today. If we kept the structure, if we kept the place Dante created… how would we view those who are imprisoned there? Would we find their pain justified? Would we find it unfair to punish them like this? And who would we place in there? If we replaced the references to people Dante knew by people from our world, who would be stuck in Hell?”

Andrew pondered on these questions while he kept on listening to you. He had a few names in mind, for sure. He smiled at the thought, didn’t interrupt you while you babbled away about the book, about the things you loved and disliked about it.

“And I love Doré’s illustrations so much! They’re haunting, just like the book. And this one in particular, with Francesca and Paolo… like… their story is so sad, but even Dante was touched by them. Even if the moral in his book is outdated now, goes against what I believe… I’d like to think that we’d turn their story around today, that we wouldn’t condemn their love or include such a warning towards fiction through them, you know… with the whole reference to Arthurian myths and everything… don’t know if you remember that… but anyway… what would we think of them today? I’d like to believe we would find their punishment in hell unfair.”

You trailed off after that. You were nervous when you looked at him, pushing some of your hair behind your ear.

“Sorry for the ramble,” you apologised, but Andrew frowned in response.

“No need to apologise. Why would you?”

“I didn’t mean to bother you.”

“You’re not bothering me at all. Your thoughts are very interesting.”

You blinked at him, as if surprised. You gave him a bright smile, growing a little shy.

“Right, thanks. But we should get back to work.”

Andrew nodded, moved away from your desk and bent again to avoid the lamp hanging from the ceiling.

He looked at you as you stared at the poster for a moment. He was happy you were the one sharing his office, you were getting along well, you were so nice, you were so smart and always seemed to have something interesting to say. He just wanted to talk to you more about this book you loved, but you were right, you both had a lot of work to do. He should focus on this article he was reading before the meeting. Instead, he looked at you for a moment longer. And before his brain pushed the thought away, before Samantha was on his mind again, he didn’t fail to notice how beautiful you were.

He looked for his thermos across his desk, furrowing his brow when he didn’t find it there. He rolled his eyes, annoyed at himself when he remembered where it was.

He walked over to your desk again, reached for it while you were still focused on the poster. But his fingers got clumsy as he threw you a glance, and it fell across your desk. Some of the warm beverage was spilled on the wooden surface.

“Shite! God!”

You turned around at the sound, but Andrew didn’t see your eyes growing slightly round. Instead, as a reflex, he had grabbed your phone and papers to secure them, was already looking for some tissues to clean the mess he had made. You reached for some Kleenex tugged inside your backpack.

“Christ, I’m so sorry,” Andrew profusely apologised, hurrying to clean your desk too. “Sorry, I’m so… long, clumsy limbs… I’m so sorry…”

He cursed at himself under his breath, didn’t look at you, fiercely blushed. Always count on him to ridicule himself…

“That’s nothing, don’t worry about it,” you reassured him, and when Andrew looked up again, you had an earnest smile on your lips. “It was just an accident, don’t worry about it.”

“I’m sorry…”

Andrew was so flustered, so embarrassed… He finished cleaning, handed you back your things without making eye-contact, rubbed at his collarbone through his shirt as soon as his hands were empty again.

When he finally looked up once more, you were still smiling.

“It’s nothing, Andrew. It’s merely a little bit of tea. Besides, you’ve saved the most important items on my desk. Nothing to be so upset about.”

The anxious side of him had kicked in, he couldn’t help it. He ran his fingers through his hair several times while he forced out a chuckle.

“I know, sorry…”

Andrew walked back to his desk, looked at his computer screen while he heard you chuckling lightly. He saw in the corner of his eyes that you were fondly shaking your head at him.

Why did he have to always make a fool of himself, huh?

All you wanted to do was to rush home to share the good news with Frank.

You had managed to get interesting classes, including some linked to your research… you were so excited to get to work and begin teaching in October.

When you came home, Frank was on his computer, working. He kissed you when you leaned closer, but focused on his screen again, and so you decided to wait for dinner to talk to him about your day.

You took a shower, prepared dinner. Frank was still working, he only stopped when you told him dinner was ready.

“Smells nice,” he said with a smile, squeezing your hand, and you took the gesture for a silent thank you.

“Thanks!”

Frank remained silent as he started to eat, and so you jumped on the opportunity to speak about your day.

“The meeting about classes and lectures was today. And it went so well!” you started babbling away, Frank looking up at you with an emotionless gaze. “I’ve managed to get topics I’m interested in, and I’m going to teach about my research too! I mean… not directly about my research, but problematics bound to it! I’ll have a class about the male gaze and female gaze dynamics, another about feminism and feminist essays…”

“That’s great, babe.”

“Yeah! Andrew helped me navigate through the meeting quite a bit, and he got the classes he wanted too, so…”

“That’s nice.”

“Yeah! And…”

“Could you hand me the salt, please?”

“Sure. I’m also gonna work quite a lot on the 19th century, which is great! I like that period, especially for novels. And that means that I can include lots of female writers, like Austen and the Brontë sisters, obviously… but I can also spend some time on feminist movements, cause that’s really an important century for them.”

“Good, good…”

“Yeah, that’s grand, and…”

He heaved a sigh, and you grew quiet.

“You’re alright?” you asked, trying not to show your disappointment.

You knew that this question meant that the conversation would focus on him for a while, and you might not be able to talk about today again.

“I… Y/N, we need to talk.”

Your heart sank.

That was not the answer you were expecting…

“Talk?”

“About us.”

“What? What do you mean? About the wedding, you mean?”

“No, I…”

He hesitated, looked at you for a moment, before putting his fork down.

“I think we should break up.”

And that was it. Words that were shattering your world spoken like they were easy to let out, like they didn’t mean the earthquake they produced. You merely stared for a moment, waiting for Frank to tell you that he was joking, to take his words back. But he didn’t.

“I’m sorry,” he went on. “But I think we should go our separate ways.”

“What the fuck are you talking about? We’re engaged! We’re going to get married!”

“I’m sorry, Y/N… I know it’s pretty sudden…”

“PRETTY SUDDEN! WE’RE ENGAGED! YOU’RE EATING MY FUCKING FOOD!”

“There’s no need to shout…”

“NO NEED TO SHOUT! OF COURSE, THERE IS A NEED TO SHOUT! WHAT THE FUCK ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT?!”

“I’m sorry… but it’s best if we don’t stay together.”

“Why? What happened? You… We’re supposed to get married…”

“I’ve met someone else, Y/N.”

Your eyes grew round, and suddenly all air had left your lungs.

“You… you’re cheating on me?!” you asked, your voice lowering again, your emotions bubbling too much, tears rising to your eyes.

“No! No! No!” Frank defended himself, shaking his head vehemently. “Nothing happened. I swear, nothing happened… but… Y/N, if I am able to feel this way for another woman, then we shouldn’t get married.”

“For how long have you known her? Who is it?”

“You don’t know her. We’ve met through work.”

“How long?”

“Not long… a few weeks.”

You raised an unimpressed eyebrow, crossing your arms before your chest.

“A few weeks? You’re trying to make me believe that you want to leave me for a woman you’ve met weeks ago?!”

“You don’t understand, we’re in love…”

You felt your head starting to spin, you had buried it in your hands.

This was a nightmare, just a bad dream, you would wake up and everything would get back to normal, you would tick all the right boxes again…

“What do you mean in love?”

“I love her. I know that it sounds… mental, but I do. And if I can fall in love with someone else like this… then you and I shouldn’t get married. It means that I… that I don’t love you enough to marry you.”

“You’ve got to be joking…”

“I’m not. I’m sorry, but I’m serious.”

“What’s her name?”

“Does it matter?”

“No, no… Do you want to be with her?”

“Yes. But I don’t know if she’ll want to be with me.”

“Really?”

“She’s not single either.”

You laughed then, tears streaming down your face too, unable to cope with the tidal wave of emotions that was drowning you.

Denial, pain, betrayal, anger, sadness…

“I’ll gather my things,” he said, standing up while you started shaking on your chair, struggling to breathe.

You didn’t even notice that he was moving away, that he was packing… you remained frozen on your seat, sobbing, while Frank was gathering fragments of your lives and tearing them away from your space.

He only reappeared about an hour later in the kitchen, the rest of your meal was cold. You hadn’t moved an inch.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N.”

And then he was gone.

#hozier #andrew hozier byrne #the hoziest #hozier x reader #hozier x you #hozier x y/n #hozier fanfiction #hozier series #hozier imagine #hozier fanfic #hozier professor au #hozier x fem!reader #writing #fanfiction #fanfic #series #professor au

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nova-anya · 5 months ago

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The Romance Tropes Legacy Challenge

Hello! Welcome to the Romance Tropes Legacy Challenge! (based on the Book Tropes Legacy Challenge by @callmerunaa)

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This is a ten generation legacy challenge featuring many elements from popular fiction tropes involved to make your sims’ love stories as unique (or stereotypical) as you wish!

Notes: –This challenge was inspired by @callmerunaa on Instagram and pinterest. However, many of the generations are altered/changed completely to fit some of my personal preferences for gameplay style and I just thought I’d create a google document of my own way of playing. Link to Original: https://in.pinterest.com/callmerunaa/

–If you do play through these generations, please note that because of the nature of the sims, some of the generations will require some ~imagination!~ Due to this, the story is definitely more… “storyline” based.

–Not every generation has required aspiration/traits/skills to learn/ or jobs. For many of them, I have “No Requirement” if it is not important for the character’s story. You are free to choose your own based on the character and how you perceive their life continuing on. Even if I have provided certain aspirations, you are not stuck with this if it is not what you feel is right for the character. You are therefore free to change any aspect of the challenge to suit you and your gameplay style.

–The last two generations DO include occult gameplay. However, I may be including alternate versions if playing with occults is not your thing/ you would like to keep your gameplay more realistic.

–If you use this version, please tag me! IG: @novanyax Twitter: @xnovanya Youtube: novaanya

Episode One: https://youtu.be/14IoZ4XzLQU?si=BEW2B_ZjHKLJ5r8Z

Generation I: (High School Drama || Love Triangle || Opposites Attract)

World: Copperdale

Aspirations: Goal Orientated/Best Selling Author

Traits: Geek

Job: No Requirement

You hear your mother shout up the stairs that the bus is almost here and it’s time for school. You throw your hair in a messy bun and quickly finish getting ready before rushing down the stairs. Despite the full breakfast of eggs, pancakes, fruit, and bacon laid out on the table, you stuff a piece of toast in your mouth and fly out the door wishing your mom goodbye. Now it’s off to high school where you don’t exactly have many friends. You are captain of the chess team though, so at least you have that going for you. Unfortunately it does not do much in the romance department. You also have a huge crush on the football quarterback and honestly who wouldn’t? They’re so dreamy. But they’d never notice you. And then there’s the cheerleading captain who hasn’t always been the nicest to you. However, when you get paired with one of them for a school project, drama ensues…

Objectives: –Start as a teenager

–Have a negative friendship with the cheerleading captain and a crush on the football team captain.

– Become Chess Team Captain

– Get paired with one of them for a group project and from there… let drama ensue.

– Go to prom with one of them.

Spouse Reqs.: – Must be either Cheerleading Captain or Football Team Captain

–Must have the “Active” trait

Child Reqs.: –No Requirement

Generation II: (Holiday Romance || Workaholic || Second Chance)

World: San Myshuno

Aspiration: Drama Llama/Fabulously Wealthy

Traits: Ambitious

Job: Lawyer (Private Attorney Branch)

In the city, your life is busy all the time. You don’t have time for friends or relationships and are instead looking forward to advancing in your career. You are adamant about keeping focused and not letting anything sway you from your goal. With the holiday season quickly approaching, you can’t help but roll your eyes at the festivities. Who cares about this corporate, capitalistic holiday anyway? Bah humbug! However, after your parents convince you to take a break from work and come back to your hometown for a few days, you meet an old flame, and they show you the true meaning of the holidays. Will whatever it is between you two survive past the holidays?

Objectives: –During your teenage years while completing the ‘drama llama’ aspiration, have the sim you break up with be the sim that shows up later in the challenge.

– Gain the ‘wokaholic’ lifestyle in the city.

–Don’t have a romantic relationship with anyone while in San Myshuno. You can have hookups and friends, but nothing serious. Remember, your job is your life!

–Have a ‘second-chance’ romance with the sim from your teen years that you broke up with.

–After your holiday romance is over, decide if it will continue or it was just not meant to be. From here, you can decide to either become a single parent, either through a mistake or through adoption, or continue to be with the person and have a happy life together.

Spouse Reqs.: –No Requirement

Child Reqs.: –Have at least two children

Generation III: (Single Parent || Friends to Lovers || Learning to Love Again)

World: No Requirement

Aspiration: Live Fast/Super Parent

Traits: Family Orientated

Job: Freelance Career

Now that you’re raising your child all by yourself, you’re trying to do everything you can to be a good and supportive parent. How quickly they grow up! Some part of you can’t help but miss your little baby. Learning all of these shapes and numbers, letters and animals from the perspective of a child really makes you fall in love with the world again after major heartbreak. Old memories of you and your happy days with your partner and child haunt your dreams. Even though you told yourself you would never love again, you can’t help but long for that sense of companionship and love. However, by some chance, you happen to find someone you just click with instantly. The two of you become fast friends and you find you don’t want to be around anyone but them (except your child). Low and behold, the butterflies you thought you would never meet again have found themselves nestled deep in your stomach.

Objectives: –Lose your partner somehow after having one child together (if it's multiples that's fine).

–Go all out for all holidays and always make sure your child always feels included.

–Have a great relationship with your child.

– Don’t have a romantic relationship until your child is at least a toddler. You can wait however long afterward to start a relationship with your partner, but your child must have a good relationship with them first.

– You are more than welcome to have more children with your new partner but it is not an obligation.

Spouse Reqs.: –Your first partner must leave your life after your child(ren). Either death or a divorce. Either way, they are not in your life.

–Your second partner must become a friend before a lover and have a good relationship with your child.

Child Reqs.: –Have one child with your first partner.

Generation IV: (Workplace Rivals to Lovers || PR Relationship || One Night Stand)

World: Del Sol Valley

Aspiration: Admired Icon/Master Actor-Master Actress

Traits: Self Absorbed

Job: Actor/Actress

On the bustling set of Del Sol Valley’s latest blockbuster film, tensions run high between you and your leading co-star. As actors, your chemistry on screen is undeniable, but behind the scenes, you're locked in a constant battle of egos and competitiveness. When a scandal threatens to derail the movie's publicity, the studio executives devise a plan to salvage their image: a fake romance between you and your co-star. Forced to put aside your differences and play the part of smitten lovers for the public eye, you reluctantly agree, knowing that your careers hang in the balance. But as you navigate red carpet events and staged paparazzi shots, something unexpected happens. A sizzling one-night stand blurs the lines between your fake relationship and real feelings. With the world watching your every move, you and your co-star must decide whether to keep up the charade for the sake of your careers or risk it all for a chance at true love.

Objectives: –As a child, join the drama club and remain until your graduation.

–After graduation, immediately move to Del Sol Valley and begin your life as a poor, struggling actor/actress.

–As you work your way up the acting career and have at least 4 stars of fame, begin a “secret romance” with a co-worker whom you do not have good compatibility with, encouraged by the PR Team. Of course this will take some creativity with the sims but you should play this however you have the means to!

– Have a one night stand with said co-worker and let feelings ensue.

–Whatever happens after this one night stand is really up to you. If you decide to continue with the relationship and make it official, kudos! If you decide it doesn’t mean anything and you’re better off apart and with another celebrity that’s fine too!

–Put a celebrity tile down on the Walk of Fame

Spouse Reqs.: – Must be a co-worker/ have at least four stars of fame.

Child Reqs.: –Have at least two children (at least one boy who is not the heir)

Generation V: (Brother’s Best Friend || Unexpected Feelings || Slow Burn)

World: No Requirement

Aspiration: Goal Oriented/Computer Whiz

Traits: Bookworm

Job: No Requirement

As the child of world famous celebrities, you’ve never had many friends of your own. So instead, you find yourself eager to stick to your books and computers. Your brother, however, is the talk of the town– always getting into scandals and dating someone new. He is constantly surrounded by friends who may have less than wholesome intentions. After all, you are who you know. Speaking of, you’d always seen your brother's best friend as just that—your brother’s best friend. Growing up together, he was a constant presence in your life, a comforting one, whom you never thought of in a romantic light. But as the years passed and you both matured, something shifted. It starts with small moments—lingering glances that last a beat too long, casual touches that send shivers down your spine. You brush them off as nothing, attributing them to your overactive imagination. After all, he is off-limits, forbidden territory. He's your brother's best friend, and crossing that line would risk everything. But as you spend more time with him, you can't deny the growing tension between you. The easy banter turns into charged silences, and every smile feels like a secret shared between just the two of you. With each passing day, the walls you've built around your heart begin to crumble, revealing feelings you never expected. As you grapple with the unexpected rush of emotions, you wonder if he feels the same way. Can you risk everything for a chance at love with your brother's best friend, or will you let fear keep you from following your heart?

Objectives: –As a child, constantly spend time with your brother, either pestering him or hanging out with him and his best friend.

– Don’t have a best friend growing up, or many friends at all.

–You may have relationships growing up, but your BBF is never far away. Remember, he is your endgame.

–Do not get into a relationship with your BBF until you are a young adult.

Spouse Reqs.: Must be your brother’s best friend

Child Reqs.: No Requirement

Generation VI: (And They Were Roommates || Sworn off Love || Forced Proximity)

World: No Requirement

Aspiration: Drama Llama/Master Chef

Traits: Foodie

Job: Culinary (Chef Branch)/Restaurant Owner

You’ve spent countless nights in the kitchen, crafting exquisite dishes that you know would impress even the finest critics– each plate is born from your passion and dedication. It is your passion and life’s work to own your own restaurant so you barely have time for anything else– let alone romantic feelings. Let alone romantic feelings for your annoying roommate who always seems to get on your last nerve. They’re a whirlwind of annoyances– leaving messes everywhere, blasting music, and interrupting your perfectly maintained peace. But you do need the rent, and you’re barely home anyway. After a while though, their quirks become endearing and their laugh infectious. You eventually find yourself drawn to the very person who once drove you up the wall. Despite your resolve, love – or something like it –eventually finds its way into your heart until it's undeniable. This unexpected romance has swept you off your feet and navigating this difficult situation along with the unexpected feelings has you all turned around. Can you find room in your heart for more than just the smell of deliciously tasty dishes of your own design?

Objectives: –Join the culinary career in the chef branch.

–Do not get into any sort of relationship with anybody. Hooking up is fine as long as there is no actual romance between you

–Get a roommate to help with the bills.

–The relationship between you two can either be playful annoyance or actual animosity. However, one day something happens to change your feelings for each other.

–Becoming a restaurant owner is up to you, depending upon the quality of your dine-out pack. If you have the skill and willpower, go for it!

–Become a five-star restaurant owner if you do choose this career. If not, reach the top of the culinary career (chef branch).

–Once you and your roommate act upon these romantic feelings, it is up to you to decide how to proceed.

Spouse Reqs.: Must have been your roommate at some point.

Child Reqs.: Have at least one daughter who will become the heir.

Generation VII: (Mafia Boss || Accidental Pregnancy || Arranged Marriage)

World: No Requirement at first/ Eventually Tartosa or San Myshuno

Aspiration: Successful Lineage

Traits: Family Orientated

Job: No Requirement

You have always been so careful to plan your life out and make deliberate, thoughtful choices. You’d always been taught to keep your head down and your dreams modest. But a chance encounter with a captivating stranger has turned your world upside down. One night of uncharacteristic passion leaves you with more than just your memories. You’re pregnant. And not just with anyone’s child, but with the heir of a powerful mafia boss. As the reality of your situation sinks in, you are left to grapple with your fear, confusion, and the looming presence of the mafia world that has now laid its claim on you. You know your life will never be the same and looming threats surrounding you have you more anxious than ever. Navigating this new and treacherous terrain has you seeing the world in a new light and your new husband is as ruthless as he is protective. You must now find a way to safeguard you and your unborn child all while your heart begins to betray you. Among this world of shadows and danger at every turn, you discover that sometimes fate can lead you to a destiny you never thought possible– where love and danger walk hand in hand.

Objectives: –Get all As in school.

– Be well into your career, on your way to the top of whatever career you choose.

– After an unexpected night of passion, engage in unprotected woo-hoo with a sim who happens to be the son of a mafia boss or a mafia boss.

–Get pregnant with his baby.

–From here, your life is uprooted. You are no longer surrounded by your own family and friends but are instead whisked into the life of a mafia wife where danger awaits at every turn.

– You are now in a forced/arranged marriage to the mafia boss/’ son. This relationship is up to [the player]. Whether he is cold on the outside/warm on the inside, actually kind of a himbo, or actually kind of an a-hole, however you take the story will certainly be interesting.

– If you decide to stay in the mafia after the birth of your child is up to you. They could be protected by their mafia family and raised in the mafia life, or you could whisk them away from the dangers of growing up in this family. Many different factors can affect this.

–However, your child must still have an essence of their father. How deep this goes is up to the player.

– No matter how you play this out, your first child (the heir) must grow up SPOILED.

Spouse Reqs.: –Must be the son of a mafia boss/must become the mafia boss.

Child Reqs.: –Must have at least one child with the above spouse who will become the heir for the next gen. They do NOT have a good relationship with their father.

–They are spoiled rotten.

–However you decide to have children after that is up to you.

Generation VIII: (Bodyguard x Client || Annoyance to Lovers || Protective Streak)

World: No Requirement

Aspiration: Admired Icon/Party Animal

Trait: Party Animal

Job: None

You never even wanted a bodyguard. Let alone this stoic imposing figure whose presence felt suffocating at best and a constant reminder of your father’s overbearing control at worst. You resent their watchful eyes which feels like an intrusion into your every move. They, as a figure, represent the golden cage you grew up in and how your life will never truly be your own. You’ve grown accustomed to pushing boundaries and testing limits to see how far you can go before they intervene. And they always do. A stern glare or sharp word only fuels your defiance. Every exchange is snarky and exchanged like daggers. They see you as a reckless child who needs constant supervision while they are an obstacle to your freedom. However, danger from your fathers’ enemies lurks just behind every corner and you find yourself leaning more on your bodyguard than you care to admit. One night where emotions run high and adrenaline is surging, you are faced with the reality of whatever situation you have gotten the two of you in now. Walls come crashing down and in the heat of the moment, the attraction between the two of you is undeniable. What started as animosity has transformed into a passionate and fiery love. In this unpredictable world, you have found a love that has defied logic and reason and ignited itself with the intensity of a wildfire.

Objectives: –As the spoiled rich child of a mob boss, they are going to make sure you are protected all the time. Have a bodyguard who lives with you and follows you everywhere.

–Go out to every party you are invited to.

–Have mostly mean interactions with your bodyguard or simply ignore them whenever they are in your presence.

–Have something occur that lands you into trouble, where your bodyguard must come save you from the danger.

–From here, have some sort of relationship blossom between the two of you.

Spouse Reqs.: —Must have been a previous bodyguard.

Child Reqs.: –Have an ok relationship with the next heir. You are not particularly the most LOVING mother, but you do want the best for them.

Occult Generations:

Generation IXa: (Human x Vampire || Rich Bachelor || Masquerade Ball)

World: Forgotten Hollow

Aspiration: Drama Llama/No Requirement/Any of the Vampire Aspirations

Traits: Music Lover

Job: Any sort of artsy job: writer, painter, photographer, mixologist, comedian

You’d never had many job prospects or really even any life prospects as you settled into becoming a young adult. You have a job but it isn’t anything permanent, or really anything you could make a living off. Thankfully your family is comfortable enough to support you. You find that you just don’t have the passion for anything. Everything is too corporate. Too boring. The one place you could escape to, however, is your music. The sweet melody of playing an instrument gives you the ability to lose yourself and forget all of your problems for a while. You decide, with much encouragement from your parents, to pursue a degree in fine arts. Then, in the darkened corners of the library, you meet them: a captivating stranger whose gaze holds ancient wisdom and a hunger you can’t quite place. As your bond deepens, you are whisked away to a small town– the bloodsucker’s home. Here you navigate the complexities of their world including politics and the unfortunate circumstance of you being human. However, after being invited to a masquerade ball to welcome you to the town, you find yourself surrounded by those who are much more interesting than the humans you grew up with and a world where vampiric intrigue and desire runs rampant. You decide to take the plunge into uncharted waters and grow a deep bond with one of the guests and now your whole world has changed. Your maker, your lover, your one has changed your life entirely. Now it is up to the two of you to navigate this new world together.

Objectives: –After graduating high school, you may get a job but it must be low paying and something your parents would not approve of.

–You soon are heavily encouraged to go to university by your parents and apply to either Foxbury Institute or The University of Britechester.

–It is here where you meet a vampire who you are immediately enamored with.

–Quit university very quickly after this encounter and go with them to Forgotten Hollow.

–Have a masquerade ball/some sort of party to welcome you to the town where every vampire in town is invited. It is here where you meet the one.

–Be turned into a vampire by your lover

–Turn others into vampires and live like vampire royalty.

Spouse Reqs.: –Must be a Vampire

Child Reqs: –Do not have children of your own but instead, you will adopt one of your “turned” as your child and raise them as your own.

Generation Xa: (Vampire x Werewolf ||Forbidden Love || Love Will Find a Way)

World: Forgotten Hollow or Moonwood Mill

Aspiration: Soulmate

Traits: Romantic

Skills to Master: No Requirement

Job: No Requirement

The ancient feud between vampires and werewolves has existed for millenia. Hatred runs like a river through the land and split the two worlds in a way that no one would ever dare to cross. And at first, you don’t. You are a loyal and determined child of the night who would never even think of going near one of those grungy dogs. But then you meet… them. Under the glow of a silver moon, your eyes meet and their presence ignites a fire in your cold, immortal heart. It is forbidden from the start, a love that defies the rules set by generations of hatred. Yet, you can’t stay away. Every secret meeting in the shadowy forest, every whispered promise under the stars, only binds you closer. Your romance is one for the ages. A true and pure love that you never even thought was possible. However, neither of your families would see it this way. In fact, they would see your love as the ultimate betrayal– a crime punishable by death. Yet, the thought of a life without them was more terrifying than any punishment. Will you find a way to bridge the gap between the chasm of hatred between your people, or will your love story end in tragedy, as many before have warned?

Objectives: –Have a good relationship with your parents and siblings.

–Don’t go to high school or drop out of high school before you can go. After all, you must protect your identity and everything to do with vampires must be hidden from the mortal realm.

–Meet a werewolf on the full moon and it is here where you happen to fall in love.

–Keep your relationship a secret from your family.

–Eventually the truth of your relationship will come out and it is up to [the player] on how the families will react.

Spouse Reqs.: –Must be a Werewolf

Child Reqs: No Requirement

Non-Occult Alternatives:

Generation IXb: (Betrayal || Hurt/Comfort || Love Triangle)

World: No Requirement

Aspiration: Drama Llama/No Requirement

Traits: Jealous

Job: No Requirement

Your whole world is shattered the moment you come home one night to discover your fiance’s betrayal. The life you have planned meticulously has crumbled before your very eyes and now you are left to question everything. It is here in your darkest hour when an old friend comes back into your life and offers a shoulder to cry on and a warm heart–something you thought you’d lost forever. Slowly you find comfort through the pain and eventually find the hurt beginning to ease thanks to your old friend. Just as you are seeing this glimmer of hope and maybe something more than friendship, a new charismatic and alluring figure enters your life. They awaken something deep inside of you and stir up emotions you thought you were too deep down to be experienced again. Torn between the safety and comfort of your friend and the exciting possibilities of someone new, you find yourself in the middle of a love triangle. As you navigate this intense web of emotions and feelings, you begin to discover love again and heal from the heartbreak and trauma of your past.

Objectives: –Get into a relationship in high school and get engaged immediately after graduation.

– At some point, stumble onto your fiance cheating on you with someone else.

–Find comfort in an old friend and lean on them in your time of need and healing. There are definitely some underlying feelings for them fluttering beneath the surface.

–Have an encounter with a new person that immediately catches your attention. From there, feelings develop between the two of you.

–Choose between the two love interests (or have both!).

Spouse Reqs.: –Be one (or both) of the two love interests you find comfort in after the betrayal of your partner.

Child Reqs.: No Requirement

Generation Xb: (Enemies to Lovers || Sports Romance || Forced Proximity)

World: Britechester

Aspiration: Sports Enthusiast

Traits: Active

Job: Soccer Team Player (University)

From the moment you set foot on the university’s soccer field, you knew it was not going to be easy. Every soccer match between Britechester and Foxbury is hard fought and hard won. But you never expected your biggest challenge would be feelings for your fiercest rival– another member of the soccer team. They’re everything you’re not– confident, brash, charming, and undeniably talented. You can’t stand the way they smirk when they outplay you or how cocky they act when they are praised by the coach. Yet, there's an undeniable spark every time you clash. It’s not just competition; it’s chemistry. Your teammates see it, the coaches see it, and deep down, you feel it too. Everything changes when your coach announces a major change to how the team will work. You and your rival are to be co-captains for the rest of the season. The team’s success depends on you two working together, setting aside your differences to lead and inspire. Resistance is futile—your coach makes it clear that if you don’t cooperate, the team will suffer, and so will your chances of making it to the championship. With team drama, injuries, and sidelined players, you find yourselves having to rely on each other to keep grades up as well as the team spirit. Extra practice sessions and mandatory study hours late at night in the commons lead to the crumbling of walls and you see a side of them you never expected to see. Will you let this connection between the two of you blossom into something more or will your fierce pride keep you from finding true happiness with the one meant for you?

Objectives: –Join a soccer team as a child and continue sports activities into high school.

–Get accepted to either Foxbury or Britechester on a sports scholarship in which you play on the soccer team.

–Have a good relationship with most of your team– except for ONE member who just keeps getting underneath your skin.

–Reach “Playmaker” level of the Soccer career.

–Gain the “Energetic” lifestyle.

–Gain romance with the one member who keeps getting underneath your skin and see where the romance takes you.

Spouse Reqs.: –Must be your old soccer team player teammate

Child Reqs.: No Requirement

Thanks for Playing! <3

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