#im like. this [] close to cutting connections with almost every person i know and or talk to

[cant-reed]

ouuugh chatroom .

[zhng96]

𝐁𝐅 𝐇𝐀𝐁𝐈𝐓𝐒 — zb1

↳ pairing: ot9!zb1 x gn!reader

↳ warning: fluff for those w a sweet tooth <3

— 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐉𝐈𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐆

↳ moving you by your waist

- sidewalk rule is something HE LIVES BY

- when you’re blocking his way he’ll gently just grab your waist and beckon you to move UGH

- he is so boyfriend i will die

- he lives for the flustered look on your face EVERY TIME HE DOES IT

- you swear you will never get used to it

- you are walking on the side closer to the street? NOT GNNA HAPPEN UNDER HIS WATCH!

- you’re a little too close to a high ledge? NOT UNDER HIS WATCH

- you’re a little lost?? he’ll guide you by gently pushing you by the waist EHEHEHHE

- got me giggling n all..

(rest of the members under the cut!)

— 𝐙𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐎

↳ is constantly taking candid pictures of you :(( (he has a whole album he organized once a week on his phone)

- he wishes he could inject your reaction tho finding out every time he takes a picture

- he finds you so endearing istg

- he will purposely turn his ringer on so you can hear the camera snap

- sometimes he already awaits your reaction to the first snap so he takes a picture while your eyes are wide in realization

- he treasures it forever (it’s his lockscreen)

- i can imagine you guys being on face time while you are getting ready for the day and he just does the face time screen shot thing

- hes so boyfriend im afraid 😣😣 (pt2)

— 𝐒𝐔𝐍𝐆 𝐇𝐀𝐍𝐁𝐈𝐍

↳ always takes one flower from the bouquets he buys you to know when to buy you a new one

- we need more hanbins in the world 💔💔

- this man buys you a bouquet without you even asking he is literal perfection

- he sets the one flower on his window sill and always makes sure to check it everyday before leaving for work to know if he has to buy you a new one or not </3

- the first time he did it he texted you “hey since the last bouquet died do u prefer lilies or peonies?”

- you went feral LIKE HOW DID HE KNOW??!!

- and then when you went over to his house one day you saw a flower similar to the ones in your bouquet and you connected the dots

- he goes to the same flower shop every time too

- he goes to a locally managed one!! he thinks the flowers are prettier there than at any supermarket

- the old lady who runs the store is basically his second mother and told him to bring you so you two could meet

- he is so boyfriend it is actually crazy (pt3)

— 𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐊 𝐌𝐀𝐓𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐖

↳ buys everything that reminds him of you

- he is so adorable

- he’s out with his friends and he finds a plushie that resembles you?? yeah he’ll buy it

- some times he gifts them to you but sometimes he’ll keep it

- when you ask him about it he’ll be like “oh it made me think of you!”

- one time you noticed a cute plushie in the backseat of his car and you asked him where and why he bought it

- he said “it reminds me of you! that way every time im driving it feels like you’re with me :)”

- you melt EVERYTIME

- HE IS SO BOYFRIEND (pt4)

- you guys build a ikea shelf for your room solely used for displaying matthew’s trinkets he bought thinking of you :(

- he says its the yn museum LOLL

— 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐓𝐀𝐄𝐑𝐀𝐄

↳ constantly bumps into you as you walk

- it sounds annoying but it’s actually really endearing :(

- times he can’t hug you he’ll touch you by teasing and bumping into you

- he’s also distracted and just so comfortable and immersed in your conversation that he can’t walk straight

- (but he doesn’t tell you that)

- sometimes he almost pushes the both of you off the side walk LOL

- he finds moments where being playful but also being close to you are his favourite memories

- sometime when you get tired of it you just hold his hand which suddenly makes him stop hehe

- he just wants to be close to you is all

- and tease you <33

- boyfriend coded (pt5)

— 𝐒𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐐𝐔𝐀𝐍𝐑𝐔𝐈

↳ sets food on your plate whenever you eat out

- AHHH THIS MAKES ME SMILE SO HARD

- i feel like hes not the most openly affectionate person,,, like he shies away from pda n all that

- so instead he shows his love through his actions!!!

- you guys are out eating at a kbbq place and hes just placing some meat or rice on your plate </3

- he’s so attentive w/ it too like when he notices the pile is slowly getting smaller, he takes more off of the grill and sets it on your plate :(((

- when you take notice he smiles, places more and goes “here you go” AHHHH

- once u got to the last piece on your pile its tradition to feed it to him :))

- he happily accepts

- he’s so lovely :((

- and so boyfriend </3 (pt6)

— 𝐊𝐈𝐌 𝐆𝐘𝐔𝐕𝐈𝐍

↳ touching you with his cold hands

- LIVES for harmless teasing

- he’ll take his hands and cup your cheeks with them :((

- he loves the squeal and the cute little face you make :((

- HE JUST LOVES YOU!!!

- sometimes you guys are cuddling in bed and he’ll put his hands under your shirt and rest them on your stomach

- you squeal again which = happy happy gyuvin

- he always apologizes w kisses afterward tho :)

- now you are both happy

- GAWD HE IS SO BOYFRIEND (pt7)

— 𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐊 𝐆𝐔𝐍𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐊

↳ whenever you ask for one of his hoodies, he sprays a fresh spritz of his cologne on it

- he likes any opportunity to give you his hoodies :))

- he acts like he doesn’t see you basking in the cologne the hoodie absorbed the first few times he gives you his hoodie

- so now he makes sure to give it an extra spray before giving it to you :))

- he’s considered buying you the cologne as a gift once actually

- but he likes the feeling of keeping the secret that he knows how much you like the scent so he decides against it :)

- he likes seeing your smile every time you put one of his hoodies on not knowing he was admiring hehe

- bf coded (pt8)

— 𝐇𝐀𝐍 𝐘𝐔𝐉𝐈𝐍

↳ compares you to cute and funny animal pictures

- im tempted to make a seperate imagine for this its just so cute

- you’ll just be going about your day and he’ll text you

- he’ll just send the picture of an animal and say “you :)”

- you ask him to elaborate (he has picsart downloaded just for this moment) so he sends a collage of a picture of you resembling the actions or face the animal makes

- he is so cuteness i will die

- when you guys are hanging out he’ll take it phone screen and open up a picture of an animal and hold the screen right next to you face

- he inspects it like he’s an artist and just giggles

- you live for it tho

- oh can’t forget about the times he would ask you to do a pose and you comply reluctantly and he takes a picture and adds it to his collection of pictures that resemble an animal :)

- yea he has an entire album on his camera roll

navi. mlist.

[christhopersturniolo]

୨ PINKY PROMISE ୧

Summary: Y/n finally confronts her abusive dad, leading to a massive argument, where she leaves the house.

Warnings: Angst, daddy issues, violence, cussing.

Notes: English is not my first language, so I’m sorry about any mistake!

୨୧

Im on the living room couch since my dad left the house. My eyes blink slowly, struggling to stay open. I see on my phone, 2AM. The big yellow light only makes me drowsier at each second that goes by. As soon as my eyes close, I hear the door opening, automatically getting my attention.

I sit up, rubbing my eyes. I watch the old man walking through the living room with a bottle of beer in his hand. The familiar smell of alcohol fills the room. He looks in my direction, his eyes narrowing as they land on me. “What the hell are you doing still up?" He asks with a tone of accusation.

I hesitate before answering, finding the right words. “I.. I was just waiting for you, dad.” I reply. The tension in the room is big.

"Waiting for me? More like waiting to nag me, you little brat." He scoffs as he walks over to the kitchen, opening the fridge and getting another alcoholic drink.

I feel the rage burning inside me, but I push it down, knowing it will only make things worse. “I was worried about you” I say, my voice trembling slightly. “You were gone for hours, and..”

But before I can finish my sentence, he cuts me off with a bit of a laugh. “You are just like your mother, always putting your nose where you are not called” He takes another swig from the bottle. I put my phone in my pocket. I start getting up, maybe going to bed was actually the best idea, but it looks like he still has things to say. “You're the last person who should be worried about me, little bitch.”

All his words just remind me of how much I hate him. Since my mom died, nothing has been the same. He started getting into alcohol, drinking every day. I have bruises from all the times he had ever hit me. I hate when he mentions my mom, like he didn’t even loved her. I turn myself to him. “It’s not my fault you go out to drink like a fucking addicted, just because you can’t stand the idea of mom not being here anymore!” I say. “And I shouldn’t be worried?!”

“You are just like her” He looks at me with disgusted eyes. “Always running your mouth, just like your goddamn mother.” He gets closer, his breath hitting my face. “If she was here, she would be embarrassed of having you as a daughter, just like I am.” He pauses. “You are just a mistake. I wish I had used a condom that night. No one can fucking stand you.”

I shake my head. “That’s not true.” I try to convince myself. Some tears running down my face, I just can’t avoid them. I feel more and more angry.

He simply keeps talking. “And let me tell you,“ He points an accusing finger at me. “That shitty boyfriend of yours? He’s just with you out of pity.”

“You don’t know what you are talking about. You don’t know him, dad.” My breath gets heavier.

“He’s just using you, like everyone around you, piece of shit. You will see, as soon as he finds someone bett-“

Suddenly, before he could finish talking, I push him away from me, making him lose balance, almost getting him on the floor. “Stop! Just shut the fuck up already! Leave me the fuck alone!” I scream, tears blur my vision.

But my father’s rage only seems to intensify. He doesn’t give up. He comes back, his hand connects with my cheek, slapping me across the face, leaving a red mark. For some moments, I froze. “I hate you!” I yell "I hate being here! I hate every moment spent under this roof with you!"

“Ungrateful brat! That’s all you are!” He affirms, louder than me.

“I hate the way you treat me, the way you talk to me, the way you make me feel like I'm worthless! I’m out of here!” I use the same tone as him, but this time sobbing. And with that, I start walking towards the front door, I open it.

“Sure! get the fuck out of my house! And I don’t wanna see your ass back here when you realize the shit you’ve made!” He tells me. I take one last look at him before shutting the door.

I start crying uncontrollably as I walk through the dark streets. I don’t even have where to go, I just wanna get out of this place. The only thing I can think of is Chris. I need him. He’s the only one who will understand me.

The panic just builds up as I walk the fastest I can to his house. Each step that I take doesn’t feel real. How the fuck is this actually happening. After an eternity, I finally reach his house. I ring on the doorbell, nothing. It just makes me cry more and more. I ring again, still nothing. Until I finally see the door opening. His eyes half closed, shirtless only with his pajama pants on. He blinks in confusion.

“Y/n? What’s.. What’s wrong? What are you doing here?” He asks with his husky voice.

“Chris.. Im sorry.. I..” I try to speak but the words catch in my throat, I’m only able to cry. He pulls me into a hug, my head buries on the crook of his neck as I keep breaking down. He holds me tightly, as I cling to him, my tears soaking his bare skin.

He kisses the top of my head a few times “Shh it’s okay..” He whispers. “You don’t gotta say anything right now, I just need you to breathe, love. I’ve got you..” We stay like this for some moments, until I calm down a bit.

He pulls me back from the hug, making me look at him. “Why don’t you come in so we can talk better, huh?” He questions me calmly. Chris leads me to his room, always holding my hand. As we get there, he closes the door behind us.

“Let me get you something more comfortable to wear” He looks on his wardrobe. As soon as he finds it, he hands me an oversized hoodie and some fluffy pajama pants. Once I'm settled into the cozy clothes, my boyfriend guides me to his bed. We lay down, my head on his chest as a pillow. He strokes my hair gently. “I hate seeing you like this.. Do you talk about what happened?”

I sniff. “It’s just.. Everything with my dad..” My voice shakes as I talk. I start tearing up once again. ”We argued again, but this time.. I said I wasn’t coming back there, but I don’t even have anywhere to go..” I go back to crying.

“Listen to me, you do. You have me, you are staying here for how long you need to. I’m sorry I didn’t got you out of that house earlier.” He rubs my back.

I sigh. I look up at him with my watery eyes. “Can I make you a question?” I whisper.

“Yeah, what is it?”

“Do you ever.. Do you ever regret being with me? Do you ever wish you were with someone else?”

Chris's brows furrow with concern as he looks into my tear-filled eyes. “Hey, hey, hey.. Why are you asking me that?”

“I don’t know.. My dad is always telling me how you are going to leave me and.. I.. I don’t know..” I say insecure.

Chris cups my face with his hands. “Y/n listen to me, those are just lies. Im not going to leave you and I don’t regret being with you, I love you.”

“Do you promise me?” He wipes away my tears with his thumb.

He extends his pinky finger towards me. “Wanna make a pinky promise?” His sentence makes me chuckle a bit, like a little kid. Slowly, I reach out and intertwine my pinky finger with his. “I promise that I will always be here for you, Y/n.” He smiles. “Now can you promise me that you will never doubt about it?”

“I promise Chris.” He gives me a soft peck on my lips.

୨୧

omg this end was so shitty

taglist: @daddyslilchickenfingers2 @orangelala @annamcdonalds67 @lilo7sworld @soso-scarlettolivia @junnniiieee07

[mj-iza-writer]

HI IM THE LANGUAGE ANON

I wanna say i rlly loved it and i have anogher rq...

The same, but whumper also forcibly americanizing whumpee, forcjjg them away from their culture and making fun of it and calling it gross. If you can ig??? I know it might be a bit hard

Sorry about the wait, another great idea. I think the most cultural things that I could think of was hair. Their are so many cultures that are connected with hair. I hope you enjoy.

Whumpee fought against the restraints keeping them to a chair.

The sound of scissors being snipped caused them to freeze.

Whumpee strained to see Whumper.

"No, no, please no", Whumpee pleaded once they saw Whumper grinning evilly at a pair of scissors.

"Relax, I'll let you grow it back. It's a mess and needs to be cleaned up. When was the last time you've brushed it?" Whumper came closer.

"The style isn't meant to be brushed. It... it's a protective hairstyle. A connection to my culture and ancestors", Whumpee fought against the restraints, "it's bad luck to cut it.... please."

"You worry too much. Your people have lied to you for so long about all of these ancestors and crap. No... you live in America, and you will look and act like a civil American."

Whumpee struggled as Whumper lifted some of their hair and lifted the scissors to it.

Whumpee shook their head, but Whumper held onto the hair and made the first cut.

"NNNNOOOO!!!!", Whumpee screamed as the clump fell to the floor.

"Look, you made me cut it uneven. I might have to shave you all the way now", Whumper sighed.

"No no no", Whumpee complained, "that's more than what you said. Please don't do this."

"We'll see", Whumper laughed.

Whumpee cried with every snip to their hair. They watched as every clump rolled off of them.

"Hmm not bad", Whumper finally set the scissors down.

"Ar-are you done?", Whumpee sniffled.

"Nope."

Whumpee's heart sank as they heard a lot of things being moved. Then the sound of an electric razor.

"No", Whumpee stomped their feet against the floor, causing the chair to almost tip.

"Good idea, tip the chair over", Whumper frowned, "you are making such a big deal out of nothing."

"My culture isn't nothing. It's mine, no matter how much you try, you can't take it from me", Whumpee glared, "and if that does somehow happen. My people will still exist."

Whumpee received a harsh slap to the face.

"Ymph", Whumpee grunted.

"Shut up", Whumpee growled, "or better yet, quote the pledge of allegiance."

Whumpee rolled their eyes, "I'd rather be quiet."

Another slap to the face.

"Ymmm", Whumpee groaned.

"Say it", Whumper warned.

Whumpee begrudgingly sighed, "I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States.....

Whumper dragged Whumpee down the hall and opened the door to the room Whumpee was locked in.

After Whumper handcuffed Whumpee to a bedframe, they placed a mirror in front of Whumpee.

"I don't want to see", Whumpee squeezed their eyes shut and lowered their head.

"You look so nice though", Whumper cupped Whumpee's face, "look", they lifted Whumpee's face and squeezed their cheeks.

Whumpee winced.

"Look before I take something else from you", Whumper warned.

Whumpee hurried to open their eyes.

They were greeted with their reflection.

"Smart choice. I was planning on taking a cheese grater to your ceremonial tattoos", Whumper chuckled, "maybe next time."

Whumpee glared somberly at their reflection.

"I can see you need some time to take this in. So enjoy staring at yourself for the rest of today."

Whumpee waited for the door to close before they started to sob. They stared angrily at their reflection. This wasn't their reflection... it couldn't be.

That night, Whumper received many nightmares. Some worse than others. The worst ended in a night terror. They were awake but were not able to move.

A person with the same hair as Whumpee had approached and jumped on the bed. They knelt over Whumper.

Whumper gulped at the closeness. The more Whumper could see the more terrified they became.

"Release them, or suffer the consequences", the figure warned.

With that, the figure disappeared, and Whumper was released from the paralysis.

The next morning Whumpee woke up and looked straight into the mirror.

"Not just a nightmare", Whumpee frowned.

Whumper came in.... pale as ghost, clearly lacking in sleep.

"Did you have a visitor last night", Whumpee smirked.

"Y-you know?", Whumper gasped.

"I had a visitor last night too. Mine was comforting though. I warned you it was bad luck to cut my hair. If you do not do as they warned, they will drive you mad with nightly visits. That is Mamma's way."

"Mamma?", Whumper stated with some sarcasm.

"An ancestorstral spirit", Whumpee grinned.

"Nonsense", Whumper frowned, "just stories to scare me."

Whumper soon learned though that the more things they did to Whumpee the more visits they received, and the less sleep they got.

They began keeping their distance from Whumpee, afraid to even touch them. The nightly visitor was becoming more threatening every night.

"Leave, get out of my home. To think I tried to civilize you and do you a favor. This is what I get in return", Whumper yelled, "get out."

"Even if I do leave, you'll still be haunted by them" Whumpee grinned as they rubbed their wrist, "you caused this to yourself. I did warn you. If you had let me leave sooner you wouldn't have suffered that fate. Now it's to late. Mama is going to get you."

Whumper pointed at the door, "get out. To think I tried to help you. You and your wicked people cursed me."

"Typical American. You put your hands where they don't belong, and they got burnt. Now it's everyone else's fault."

Whumpee turned to leave, "remember this, they will not leave you alone. This is your fault." Whumpee stepped out of the door cautiously.

Whumper lowered to the floor and shook. Every night had gotten worse. Every night, they felt like they may die. How long until they would actually die?

"All because of them", Whumper frowned.

Thankyou so much for the ask.

Taglist. As always please let me know if you want to be added or taken off of the list. It's not a problem at all.

@villainsandheroes @the-beasts-have-arrived

@sacredwrath @porschethemermaid

@monarchthefirst @generic-whumperz

@bloodyandfrightened @freefallingup13

@notpeppermint @cyborg0109

@idontreallyexistyet @painfulplots

@whumpbump @everythingsscary

@skittles-the-whumpee @expressionless-fr

@theforeverdyingperson @legendarydelusiongoatee

@candleshopmenace @whumpanthems

@lavndvrr @ivymyers

@starfields08000 @a-living-canvas

@lumpofsand @watermeezer

@indigoviolet311 @whumpy-mountains

@3-2-whump @risk606

@electrons2006 @paperprinxe

@whumprince @kaz-of-crows

@mis-graves @decaffeinatedtimetraveler94

@sausages-things @sunglasses-in-the-bentley

@isikedmyself878 @daffyduckcommittedtaxfraud

[fangirltothefullest]

Thoughts on the welcome home update because YES. Spoilers below the cut.

That sleep aid pill is called remderem which is almost "remember" but the d would be backwards, and its also almost "murder me" while missing the u. Is this anything? I don't know. Im always looking for names of things in args.

We have seen through two puppets eyes. First it was Wally and his discomfort and/or dissociation, and now it's Eddie's discomfort and/or dissociation. Which is fun because we've heard that Eddie would do crafts for the show and you'd just see his hands so that was a fun touch.

First iteration of the website we had mail letters (Eddie) giving us clues. Second iteration had bugs (Frank?) and active drawings (Wally?) giving us clues. Now we have symbols giving us clues and they remind me of stickers a little bit so possibly a connection to Sally? Who else would give the tiny pictures? Questions questions.

At the end of that commercial before his existential crisis, they say Eddie has been invited and they did his job for him so he could rest. Eddie does not seem happy about them doing his job for him instead of letting him do it himself. I am reminded of how clumsy with the mail he seems to be sometimes and how much work they make him do in the other audio clips. I wonder if he is feeling extremely overwhelmed but also unappreciated and that they can do all this work to help and choose not to most days? Sally insists it was easy to do and Eddie does not sound pleased.

One thing i can't stop thinking about and i have to go back and really re-watch the commercials closely, is Poppy. When they invite Eddie to the party they say everyone is there but there's no Poppy in the picture? And earlier they poured gravy on an ornament that, to me, looked very oddly shaped and almost like meat, and we hear Poppy, but we don't see her. So... a pea on a plate..... "P" on a plate? My brain could be misconstruing but did they eat Poppy and is that what he's actually seeing and is that why it's all red? I'd he seeing the reality beyond the mask? Is it more than a pea?

Eddie says "where?" In his crisis as a response to Frank calling his name. People are talking about this as if he doesn't know where he is. I agree this is a likely idea but what if he's asking where Poppy is? Do we ever actually see her in any of the videos or do we just hear her?

Wally has feelings a lot which is good to confirm he has feelings! Eddie also said he would be happy with an apple every single day and my he is an innocentbautism creature wally agenda is flourishing.

The amount if commercials has me fascinated because people used to do that for TV shows (still do but those earlier type ones welcome home is referencing is spot on) commercials for basically everything is accurate and what is funny is the accuracy of what each person is selling. Howdy with the cigarette commercial- he takes every opportunity to sell you something no matter what even if it's not good for you. Sleepy looking Wally selling you sleeping pills happy with the thought of the dream.

Wally being nervous about getting the holiday correct. Is it because he's never done it or ia Home going to hurt him?

Did home hurt Eddie because he was upset during the party? It sure fucking looks like it with home watching him so intensely. Does the chair have something to do with it?

Eddie's scribbled writing reminds me of the people trying to decipher the code on the safe.

On the secret pages it's signed "-W." But it talks as if it's a human person who watched the show and is working either the WHRP team. It also talks too grown up to be wally. Who is this?? Is it the same person from the terrified scribbles of the hidden page previously? It seems maybe so because of referencing needing the cleanup.

[nereidprinc3ss]

OMG. i’m just a bit of a overthinker so i have this bit of a bad habit where i tend to overanalyze everything when i shouldn’t 😃 but since you asked, here are some of the things that made me consider that reader might have daddy issues.

just please please don’t let this affect your work, your writing is absolutely perfect and nothing about it should be changed. again, it’s just me being a weird intp autistic overthinker.

1. it kinda looks like she uses sex to feel loved. she even confronts him by speculating that he might not be attracted to her. through the entire series reader is constantly scared of the idea of spencer leaving her after finding out who she actually is as a vulnerable person based on her nakedness if that makes any sense?

“But I just… sometimes I worry I’ll scare you away once you realize I’m not as pretty or… good as you thought.”

2. spencer’s character is obviously well known for having an eloquent vocabulary but he even gives me the vibe of being a little bit much older than reader. which is a common thing in women with daddy issues, like me. but again, this is just my way of interpreting the whole thing. he always seems to be so put up together but of course, that might change with the new chapter. even his actions make him sound more older, like in here:

“He smiles up at you like you’re something divine and lets his hands trail over your hips.” 

i’m probably just being weird about it but i just THINK it’s impossible for a guy close to reader’s age to think like this and be this gentle because young men are stupid by default and very few have this sense of gentleness with their actions. even with the way he calls her honey, i have never in my life seen a guy my age call their girlfriend “honey” and sure, this is merely fiction but for this reason i picture both of them with bit of an age gap going on in their relationship.

3. spencer is a bit of a emotionally unreachable boyfriend sometimes! and i’m analyzing this based on his confession towards reader about him regretting his first time. like there is so much rambling in this dynamic and it takes him long enough to be able to directly say it to her. yeah, he wasn’t ready to tell reader he loved her but there were other ways to tell her that he regretted his first time. almost like there is no emotional connection or actual trust between them.

4. sometimes reader is also unable to trust spencer, it’s so easy to see how she’s constantly battling in her head to ask him a simple question or even taking a compliment from him. i know it’s just meant to be portrayed as insecurity but this is actually a common thing in daddy issues as far as i know.

“He likes me and my questions are important to him, you repeat to yourself silently as you work up the strength.”

5. and moreover, this one sentence:

“It’s every fiber of your being screaming to tell him how you feel, to beg him on your knees not to go because you love him like a child loves a parent or a bee loves honeysuckle or the ocean loves the horizon.”

and this one part as well: Somehow, he makes you feel like a scolded child. But he makes it appealing in ways you don’t understand. 

But again, your work is PERFECT. and i wouldn’t have it any other way. you keep doing you. ❤️

me rambling about the DYBMN age gap and reader potentially being neurodiverse below the cut 🙏 bless

oh so it is definitely interwoven throughout the entire thing and i didn’t even realize you are so right omg😭 this is like in tangled when rapunzel realizes she’s been painting the sun emblem subconsciously her whole life

anyway bff this just made me so ridiculously happy. like the analysis??? the attention to detail???? im ecstatic im losing my mind ily this is so insanely thoughtful thank you for doing this!!!

and yeah i think you could be right about the age gap. i think i technically only put it as an implied warning for one of the chapters but the more i write the more i realize that is definitely a part of the dynamic. but also like?? not all the time?? not for sure?? and i don’t necessarily think that if they DO have an age gap it’s a super big one (although it’s up to you guys, none of my business) i think i feel that way because oftentimes they will behave like peers in the same age group which is how i wrote them on purpose. but it could also be that they’re peers in other ways like let me explain something i’ve been thinking about

reader is insecure not only about being inexperienced in romance but in life, and feeling powerless/helpless in the way that a child might. i think that comes from me being neurodivergent and putting bits and pieces of me into the writing. a very common thing among neurodiverse people is feeling behind developmentally from their peers which the reader is DEFINITELY struggling with so i think she’s lowkey nd coded which wasnt my intent but here we are—and so even if she and spencer aren’t super close in age they might be peers in that sense. as an nd person i often don’t relate well with ppl my age and find myself much more comfortable and finding natural connection w people significantly older than me. so that could very much be a part of it but iddkkkkk reader doesn’t have to be nd and they don’t have to have an age gap but it’s fun to theorize! anyway thank you so much for your thoughts lovely they are so appreciated!!

[theallegedbird]

LITERALLY

Like

For example "6up 5oh (cop out)" IS LITERALLY THAT ONE POLICE EP FROM S5 where Jonny said the disclaimer at the beginning OR or bro c'mon literally "dr sunshine is dead" is about the dark OR "hand me my shovel, I'm going in" is about the buried or I personally connect "Mr. capgras encounters a second-hand vanity: tulpamancer's prosopagnosia/pareidolia (as direct result of trauma to fusiform gyrus)" to the stranger bc he keeps singing "you're trying to replace yourself" which I think really fits and also the song "skeleton appreciation day in vestal, my (bones)" also reminds me of the buried but also a bit of Jane Prentiss/the infestation and the jarchivist himself and also the rot yezyez the rotting too and also the beginning of the song "front street" where he sings about the slaughterhouse and meat...yes It's the flesh and the slaughter!!!!

And bro c'mon will wood is just so bbgirl his songs just fit SO WELL it's almost as if he wrote them specifically for tma

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA I'm low-key obsessed with him and I don't even listen to all the songs (I have the entire "everything's alot" album downloaded >I love it really mutch + a few other ones so I hope this counts ❤️)

Have a nice day btw love youuu❤️❤️❤️❤️ (I hope I didn't squish your brain to death with this friggin paragraph I just wrote :'] )

[ID of image in ask: a screenshot of a caption of a tumblr post by theallegedbird that the ask is responding to, it reads "memento mori- will wood, i can and will find a way to relate every ww song to tma istg". End ID]

NO LITERALLY,, YOU ARE SO RIGHT

kind of got carried away so um. long post

completely agree and feel the same about 6up 5oh cop out, dr sunshine is dead and mr capgras

6up 5oh cop out to me especially could be linked to daisy and the guy you mentioned as well as the hunt as whole because of both of them being heavily tied to and criticising the police/police brutality

warning for discussion of eds in this paragraph

skeleton appreciation day for me is the flesh,, dont get me wrong i can see your ideas too but i always interpreted the song as being about eds and negatively/unhealthily watching your weight in order to achieve "the perfect body" by society's standards; by being skinny,, "tell me you can see my bones" , "to cut down on my silhouette" and the whole end dialogue, so that fits into the flesh for me considering another situation of someone wanting the "ideal body" is something that is discussed in a flesh statement (mag90-bodybuilder), but i can see some themes in the song that can could be corruption, plus both the flesh and corruption are pretty closely linked at times (and smirkes system is just inaccurate to begin with)

dr sunshine is dead is as you said the dark to me,, in the sense of someone maybe becoming an avatar (song starts with narrator afraid of the dark/not knowing and ends with them embracing it) but also could be seen as the stranger or even spiral because of its themes (like most of ww's work) involving identity and the self

for hand me my shovel,, may i propose it is also s2 jon coded. very s2 jon coded. it is very much his paranoid need for the 'truth'. do you. do you get me

id also like to propose some other ww songs that are also extremely tma coded,, to me

blackboxwarrior!! ok stick with me but yknow that one dialogue bit that starts "hello, welcome. why don’t you take a seat?" that whole section. thats og elias and jonah in elias' interview. do you see the vision. its them. i always take it as jonah being the narrator when looking at this song with tma in mind,, with the "you’ve lost your mind and almost lost your life before, so you’ll be fine" and "for what it’s worth if it was going to kill you, boy, it would have by now" being directed at jon. please say im not insane for this i. i listen to this song a lot.

on the topic of jon and jonah your body my temple. because. because hes using jon as a pawn,, "your visage my visions" (i know this songs about sydney and elijah ch&t but can be tma too. if you think about it)

again with jon and jonah (i despise jonah and the godforsaken thing that is jonelias but their dynamic is so interesting) laplaces angel,, dont know how to put this one into words but do you Get It,, could be both or either of them really,, certain lyrics include: "it doesnt take a killer to murder it only takes a reason to kill", "the difference twixt fate and free will is whether youre singing", "whatever you think of me, if you were in my shoes, youd walk the same damn miles i do"

against the kitchen floor could also be jmart,, especially these parts: "i just havent learnt to be as human as you are yet", "i still dont know who you are, only that im still lonely", "apologizing for my life and ever entering yours" "im not a good person, im barely a person at all"

cicada days,, jon. jon coded. i really want ro make something with especially the in case i die live show version bc it just fits. so well. "it just feels inhumane to lose this much", "let all my red flags fade to white yeah i give up", and biggest one to me "here at the end of days, my god what have i done?" as in mag160,,

cotard's solution is the stranger,, again with the identity

there’s more but i’ve just realised how long this already is so ima leave it there

pff sorry for hijacking your ask but i’m a sucker for media analysis and any opportunity to do that with not one but two of my special interests causes me to black out and the autism to take over <33

also you’re so real for everything is lot,, favourite album

have a great day or night :D

[firstdivisiongirl]

hii can i get a male match up please for tokyo revengers :) im a she/her - sorry if theres quite a bit here D:

- i like animals especially red pandas and i also like bugs too. i also sometimes like to read both manga and actual books, i like any theme but when it comes to manga i either like shonen or stories like goodnight punpun/ a girl on the shore

im very enthusiastic towards music, i listen to any genre. i can go from heavy mental and rock, to goth, to something like lana del ray where i feel like i need to be in the rain with red wine, to calm/ smthin indie, sole crushing, and then scene. theres a whole lot more i could add. lemme also add in midwest emo.

- i cant exactly pinpoint what i dislike aside from the wind because it messes up with my hair, i swear if the wind was a solid id have it knocked down immediately. though I also tend to get annoyed by people that don't use common sense.

- my hobies incule art, i have a lot of sketchbooks and majority of my lessons are done by doodling and getting told off by my the teacher cause i dont pay attention, but i still carry on. i also like to make jewelry such as bracelets/neclases, their mainly beaded but their still cute to wear and i like to make bracelets for close people

- (just for extra info here →) im mentaly unstable and have severe attached issues as well as issues with family on every aspect. id like to get better, however i just end up going down a loop hole so i cant/dont which makes everything much harder than it needs to be.

- my energy gets drained QUICK so im mostly a listener rather than a speaker when it comes to social interactions, however i do have my days where i can be jumpy and almost euthoric and talk like my life depends on it with a lot of excitement

- also i can get sudden motivation that i end up reorganising my room, one day it'd look that then after 4 months itd look like this. i tend to do spontanious little things here and there when im in a good mood and that includes in dying/cutting my hair. also ive pierced myself 6x with thumb tacks and their all healed very nicely. i have 9 ear piercings in total.

- never was much of an academic person in school, but i tend to be smart outside of it and i find enjoyment in observing people and using my own thoughts rather than finding sources

- i wont call myself shy, maybe at first sure but as i get comfortable i can go all out and i dont mind in making the first move as long as i get the same energy back, otherwise if that energy isn't given then ill forget all about them.

- i can be extremely clingy when i want to be, i hold back in latching onto someone on a daily basis. i wanna hold someone's hand, be on their back like a bag, and just overall connect soles. im touch starved and overall I can be very affectionate physically, though I'm awful at using my words for affection.

Hello! There isn’t too much. It’s actually a good thing. That means it’s easier to pick because I know more about you. It makes the match more accurate. So let’s go!

You Got…

Izana Kurokawa!!!!!

Boy is all about loyalty and keeping those he loves around!! So you wanting to be clingy, is perfect!!!

He’s a leader so he would do all the talking for you

Very patient (we saw his like 8 year plan to take down Mikey lol) so if you are struggling with anything, he’s there for you.

Would play music for you on his guitar. I think indie rock probably.

Idk why but I also called him a human red panda. The reason his because he looks cute but is a menance like red pandas.

At home dates or concerts! I hope you like the matchup!!!

[imjustabeanie]

Here’s the infir for our trade:

My style has a rockstar gf vibe. Sometimes softer colours too. I'm hourglass shaped and almost curvy, but I spend lots of time training (MMA) so instead im lowkey athletic with some muscle. I've got dark gray almond shaped eyes and medium lengst wavy blonde wolfcut with (renee rapp-style) bangs. Ironically (for Hazbin) I often hear that I look Angel-like? Like, even from strangers on the street?? That or that I’m intimidating. Ngl, that strokes my ego a bit (as all the other times I had strangers compliment me, tho I try to be neutral abt it bc ofc I’m pretty), but idk what really makes me come across that way. Got some casual makeup on usually. I’ve got some scars and bruises from training, don’t mind most, not too fond of my scar from a sword fight (long story), bc it’s big (and I hate that somebody might think that I lost it; my ego >>> my body - with injuries like that). Also, got a hidden tattoo. Yeah yeah, my youth group (idk how to actually say it in eng) doesn’t allow it, I’ve got my rep but give me some sweet hypocrisy as a treat (/hj), I think the tattoo looks awesome (yeah, it was diy). I’m social & extroverted. I write songs and am in a band. Other than that I like to tease ppl if given the opportunity; others say I’m flirty - bold with it at that. I’m ambitious too. I don't take shit from ppl, im far from meek. I have npd (if you want to look it up without reading scientific papers, go on tumblr, bc the rest of the internet is filled with ‘demonic narcissism’ bullshit) and it influences the way I am. I care lots about my image, don’t have a ton of empathy etc. I don’t kick puppies, but it‘s noticeable how I lack in this department. Sometimes people say I’m ’too nice to have it’ cause i do well with kids and do all the youth group volunteering. Kinda skeptical of serious romance cause I had lots of it & I don’t mix well with a lot of people. Maybe I could do something serious for once if I had the right person. I try to be responsible and respectful but I have no issue finding my place at a wild party or something. I can be soft-er if I want, like with children or ppl I’m close with (I've got many friend groups but struggle to make meaningful connections). Usually I just stay my analytical, laid-back self and say my silly little comments every once in a while. Heard I’m pretty funny if I want to be. My love language is acts of service. I like small things and I do them a lot. I can do praise too, but I don't care for it in return. Like, you can be an asshole (up to a limit, I know my worth) and it’s cool with me if I see you have your ways of caring like putting on a song I like in the car. Unrelated but some say I’m kinda closed off and ‘mysterious’ or wtv . Hate it when people push me to open up and be emotional; love music and I unironically had a few guys play songs AT me and I actually like that too, tho I get why ppl clown on it; despise the ‘I can fix them’ trope, it just feels wrong; obvi love my band, we are awesome; Deal breakers r: boring ppl, too romantic or sentimental, ppl who can't be casual with me, ppl who only approach me bc of my looks (yeah they are important, but my personality’s too good to ignore in the long run, come on), for Hazbin - no Val. I like ppl who are more negative than me and aren't afraid to shittalk everything. Just saying whatever, not caring if they offend ppl (up to a point, some issues aren’t debatable ik). I like to join in sometimes. They have to be at least a little funny. And determined abt their goals, like a lot, no matter what it is. Don't really care for morality (to a certain point, again) if you're charismatic and fun to be around, I’m along for the ride and happy to support whatever you get yourself into. Like, my perfect dynamic is usually when the other person says the wildest shit and I just go like ‘yeah, go baby’. Ppl try to argue? I pull out the ‘who?… who cares?’ card.

1/2, just a few sentences got cut

-★🎶

Hellooooo! Here's my part of the trade!

Your match for hazbin hotel is.....Velvette! With Adam as a close runner up lol

Okay so as I said in messages, Velvet would be a perfect match for you (with adam as your very close runner up). You said you don’t like sentimental or boring people but you like them ambitious and audacious. Tell me how it’s not our dear Velvette. Now okay, given her little screentime there’s a chance she approached you first for your looks but put her in her place and there you go. A nice enemies to lovers’ story. Who asked the other one first? Her. She was pushed to the edge by the other V’s teasing.

Something that fits you both in the relationship is that you don’t expect the lovey dovey atmosphere. It’s more like…that’s my demon, fuck off. She likes that you retaliate and doesn’t get hurt easily because she won’t have to watch her words. It’s not uncommon to find both of you bickering but if anyone dared to try and side with one of you they’d get hurt. Velvette love language is probably gifts and fancy dates. She likes it when you do small things for her and will show it off by saying find a better lover than mine or something similar. Your relationship will be public but the amount of photoshoots you two do together depends on you, she won’t force you into an influencer life.

Now Velvette likes your style and you two give me the same vibes. But you know what she likes more? Matching outfits with you. She will probably offer to do your make up for you if you let her. As for the tattoos, if the relationship gets serious then she will get one for you. In private, she does fuss over the bruises you get during training and even proposes to….take care of your opponents. If you do any matches she will clear her schedule and assist.

Besides her brutal honesty, Velvette is the best critique you could ask for. She will help out your band as much as she can. Leave the costumes and decorations to her lol. Now onto some personal headcanons, I think that Velvette would enjoy a lover that’s stronger than her (physically. In termof powers idk) but wouldn’t abuse it. Someone who’d pick her up and spin, her around or just someone with who she can get lost in their arms in private. A lover who won’t judge her and accept her with all her flaws. I also think she’s the type that enjoys late car rides with full on music to destress. But for all of this to happen and for her to let her real walls down the relationship would have to become serious. You’re both in it for fun and it’s easy to get backstabbed in hell after all.

Hope you like it. I tried to include everything

[justsomerandomfanfic]

hello ! i was wondering if i could get a romantic star wars and harry potter matchup if that's alright ?

im 19 years old and bisexual. i have shoulder length wavy brown hair, and i wear glasses. im about 5'7 and pretty thin

i'm an ambivert, and can make conversation well when it's needed. i'm pretty smart but pretty slow if that makes sense 😭 on the outside, i seem quiet and reserved, but once i get to know someone, i can talk a lot. i have adhd and that can make it difficult for me to focus on one thing at a time, but overall i'm pretty good at learning new things

i play bass and collect action figures. music is a big thing in my life, as i play in a small band with a few friends from my university. some of my favorite artists are system of a down, blink-182, weezer, and slipknot. i play video games in my free time and i would say i'm not too bad at them. my love languages are physical touch, quality time, and gift giving. i love giving loved ones small things that remind me of them, and i love being close to others.

thanks so much and have a great day !

Yaya! Thank you so much for requesting this matchup!!! I hope you enjoy it! <333

Star Wars;

Rey:

🌌 You met Rey with Poe and BB-8, and you instantly felt some sort of connection with her, though it took you a while to warm up enough to her; it was the same for her too, she's got trust issues

🌌 When you did talk to her, you fell; you fell hard

🌌 It didn't take long for the two of you to confess your feelings for one another, and you both welcomed the start of a wonderful relationship

🌌 After the fall of the First Order, you and Rey finally had enough time to spend with each other, doing almost everything together

🌌 In the mornings, you'd wake up in each other's arms, laying there and just feeling at complete ease; you loved waking up in each other's arms and not having to get ready for anything or be anywhere

🌌 Rey would sometimes play with your hair, brushing her fingers through it as you hummed a song you were working on; you loved it whenever she played with your hair or braided it, it was calming and always made you feel like you belonged somewhere

🌌 When she was done with your hair, she'd wrapped her arms around your neck from behind, leaning down to place her chin on the top of your head; you especially loved when you'd tilt your head up and meet your lips with hers

🌌 You love training with Rey, her sometimes letting you use her lightsaber, and teaching you how to use it; she would wrap her arms around you, her hands covering yours on the hilt of the saber as she softly tells you how to swing or even cut a boulder in half

🌌 If you are ever stressed about something, Rey would just take you in her arms, softly squeezing you; you would do the same for Rey, taking her in your arms, listening to her heartbeat slow and finally calm

🌌 Rey thinks you are the greatest person in the galaxy, she says that to you every day, making sure that you know it (she's smitten), but most importantly that she loves you; she loves you so much that she feels like she has no room to breathe or exist without you in her life, she loves the way you make her feel safe, she can't imagine a world where she wouldn't have you by her side; she's never been happier in her entire life

--

Harry Potter;

Sirius Black:

🐾 You had known of Sirius through Remus, an old friend of yours who was married to your best friend Nymphadora, also known as Dora to close friends like you

🐾 You finally met him after he escaped, during the battle, having saved his life; for you, once your eyes met his, it was love at first sight

🐾 Sirius didn't know what to really think of you at first, he was very thankful and grateful for you saving his life, but when he got to know you, he thought that perhaps there was something more to you than what meets the eye

🐾 Sirius found the age gap to be… A bit awkward, him being seventeen years older than you, but he wasn't sure if it was a good idea to start anything with you; though when you looked at him… Sirius felt himself starting to melt; no matter how hard he tried, there was something about you that just made him want to be near you and spend all day with you

🐾 Eventually, the two of you began a relationship, and it was perfect; although not everything went according to plan at first, you couldn't ask for anyone else, Sirius was charming, sweet, funny and so much better than you ever imagined

🐾 After the battle, and after some healing on both your parts, Harry moved in with you and Sirius; it was fun having the kid around, and it was bittersweet when he left to find a place of his own with Ginny (the wedding was beautiful)

🐾 Sirius loved buying you things, a small habit he had gotten over the years, but he loved the smile you would get on your face whenever he bought you something new or thoughtful; whether that be a new journal, new quills, or even a Muggle Bass, you loved all the gifts he gave you

🐾 He even bought you a radio once where you would listen to music often, Sirius taking you in his arms and swaying with you to the classical music; you loved feeling his arms around you, the way your head fit perfectly into the crook of his neck and shoulders, the way he smelled like lavender, mahogany wood, and his own natural musk

🐾 One of your favorite things about Sirius is his hair, you loved how long, curly, and black it is; you loved to run your fingers through it while you were read on the couch; Sirius's head laying on your lap, his eyes closed and a blissful smile on his face, (most of the time he'd lay in your lap as a dog, which you thought was funny yet sweet)

🐾 You love learning new things with Sirius, especially if he taught you them, like the constellations, the meaning behind some of his tattoos, or even the little secrets he had tucked away inside his heart; you loved hearing old stories from his time at Hogwarts, learning about James, Peter, Remus, and himself

🐾 You loved Sirius unconditionally, always believing in his goodness and always willing to help him, no matter what; Sirius loved you to the moon and back, and never failed to remind you every morning and night of that fact, no one could compare to you

[comfysofti]

Hate not having a fandom around my au, because that means i can't properly share stuff related to it

ANYWAYS

I wrote a fic related to it that i really like so im sharing <33

Some context will be in the end!!!

Fic under the cut

(*´˘`*)♡

In your core, you are a candle

You were broken once. I tried to fix you. I took the flint, and put a new one inside you. Then replaced the missing wax. And then i lit you up

I never let the fire burn away too much flint. I would cut it off each time it would barely reach the wax with it's heat

But over time, i gave up. You never wanted my care. Despite me giving it to you, because of how much you reminded me of the only family i had left

You kept burning my hands, trying to protect that flint that was taken away from you. Give it a better wax to be in, since you thought yours wasn't good enough

I let you go

But now, without me, you're melting away. You don't have anyone to stop the fire from melting you whole

But you don't mind

You push through. You smile. Protect. Care. Warm others and shine paths with your light. Even if it means melting away

"Shall thus fire's fuel be your thoughts, emotions, feelings" i said when putting that flame in your lifeless body

"Shall it burn bright in exchange for them. Shall thus fire let you live and do as you wish" i then continued, watching your body slowly turn to life

Your lungs filling with air, your chest rising and falling with each breath in and out

Your heart faintly beating under my hand, circulation and pushing blood through your system

Your eyes, not as dead anymore, but sparkles, staring at mine, with this almost, childish confusion, as you slowly flexed your hands, twitched your ears, taking in the sounds around us

I don't regret what i did, Host

I just wish you understood why i wanted to keep you close to me. Like the day i gave you life

The day i held you in my arms, for once, in my life, making use of my powers for good

But you are your own person. I understand that

But, when you'll know that you have mere minutes from fully melting away, come to me. I'll let you pass on, the same way i greeted you into the world

-from Auditor

To: Host

Now, onto context!

1. Who's Host?

After Deimos in my au died, and was turned into AI, his body was revived to take care of him, until the solution to this whole "Deimos got turned into AI, how the fuck do we turn him back" was resolved. His body over time gotten a name Host

2. What connection Auditor has with Host and why does he care for them this much?

As mentioned in the fic, he's the one to revive Deimos' body, giving it life. That's first. Second, the reason he cares for them so much, despite them technically being enemies, is because Host, over time, with their protectiveness over Deimos, was reminding Auditor of his only family left, that being his adoptive brother. Auditor grew weirdly(in his opinion) attached to Host because of this resemblance he saw in that zed. Every interaction he would see between Host and Deimos, would immediately make him think of himself and his adoptive brother when they kids, before all that hell that broke them both, almost killed, killed their parents, and separated them happened

Auditor holds no malice towards Host. Just this weird attachment over his loneliness and longing for being loved. Not in romantic sense. But in a familiar way. Auditor deeply missed having any normality in his life, and having your enemy remind you of the only family you have left and so desperately trying to get back, makes you feel things

If any other context will be needed, let me know :33

But for now, thanks for reading!!!

(,,> <,,)♡

[dollmother]

5/25/24

her scent, the ghost living under my bed. i am haunted, hunted everywhere i go no matter how much my mind tries to banish her. free me, free me from this cage i’ve laid in. i no longer wish to feel this way, yet.. at every hint of her presence my body reacts viscerally. i can feel my chest tighten and breath tremble around her. i wonder why this is one of the responses i have no power over. despite my needs and wants, this dear vessel betrays me at every turn. there has not been a single moment of respite where thoughts of her left me alone to be at peace. there has not been one day where i have not held her closely to my heart. my mind, body, heart, soul are my limbs. they all move at their own whims, but do they ever collide? i resent that this is what has become of me, prisoner to the ghost of her. i think it over quite often, if i had the chance to redo the past eight months since we’ve met…

i believe i would have stuck with my initial choice to reject her advances. we would have remained just friends, nothing more—companions at a distances, cities apart. i would have stayed in california, and she in D.C—we would have never met each other face to face. or stared longingly at each other’s beaded gaze against the backdrop of sunlight. i still remember the very first time we met in the backdrop of philadelphian sunlight. i think we were both in shock to some extent, emotions buried but not completely hidden. she was just as tall as i expected, had the same awkward stance and smile i’d always known. she did not shatter my illusion from our time behind the electronic screen. in many ways that comforted me. knowing that she was exactly who she always was, i felt joyed in her company. her voice was the same yet, it felt so much different when you could trace her every word on those lips. i knew there was something about this person that would leave me entrenched in our bond. during this time we were just friends with no romantic inclinations towards one another. or was there? was there a tension that i completely ignored because i was distracted by someone else? did i void i try to fill with kat erase the bond we once shared? maybe in that moment i was blind to it. maybe during that time of our first meeting we had a mutual yet latent yearning for one another. i saw her for the first time and i knew something had changed in me. then now, almost two months later things would devolve and turn into this…

sometimes it is difficult to accept that our situation would resolve like this. we aren’t on speaking terms anymore. now it feels as if we are strangers, barely acquaintances that happen to live in the same house. that is our curse, to share the same home, after things have gone so terribly wrong. i have cut the string that tied us together. there isn’t  a single way (that i could think of) to mend this severed connection. but ultimately, that’s how the story ends and we all have to accept that. i believe she has. to be resolved and accepting of how we end. no reconciliation, just a break. whether or not it is clean is up to me and what i choose to do. it pains me to admit that i still harbor deep feelings for her. no matter how hard i try convincing myself im over it—her scent haunts me. then my chest starts hurting whenever she’s closing by.

if it were up to me, i would not feel this way. i’d rather feel nothing towards her than this. now if given the chance, i could return back to the moment when we first met and block her. i think it was inevitable that we would’ve caught feelings for one another even if we tried being just friends. i think i would’ve had to avoid meeting her in the first place …then

then none of the horrible shit that happened between us would’ve happened…

then again, none of our happiest moments would’ve existed either. i would be okay with that. i’d be okay, really—to not have any memories with her and she of mine.. we would’ve carried on with our lives in ignorance of what could’ve been, and what will come to pass. while i could scroll through our past conversations, our texts, our exchanges over discord, our dms on insta and tiktok…god. just so many moments we shared. is it worth all this pain to live knowing what we had together? or is it better in the bliss that we never locked eyes? i don’t know. my life now would’ve been entirely different had we not. i wonder when i’ll be free. if this feeling will ever pass. it most likely will, there’s no way she can linger over me like that? i’ve gotten over everyone i’ve felt this way about in the past yet…. i don’t know. somehow she feels different. i don’t believe she’s like the others at all. is that a crime to admit? this is a fatal wound. i’m not entirely sure i’ll ever truly recover. 

[makahimetenshi]

Two separated ways - Chapter 3 - Arthur Maxson x Female Sole Survivor x Paladin Danse Fallout 4 Fanfic

This is another story Danse x Nora x Arthur, another different from the last one, totally different, however certain elements are used.

If you are very very very delighted with one fic and want a continuation I didn’t write or post you can donate me at least $5 bucks, most of this fics have next chapters I don’t finish because lack of motivation but hey a $5 is a $5, I see a few reviews and comments that fics that are abandoned months laters receive comments of wanting to know what happens next. Here it is, I finished my handling with you all, enjoy the fic

-Did you summon me elder? –ask Paladin Danse knocking on the Elder quarters door

-Yes, come inside please –the door was open, so the paladin open it just to find Maxson with a bottle of whisky and two shot glasses in hand- pick up those chairs over there, lets go to the sniper post to drink something –oh no not again.

Danse loved the man as elder, as a lider and strategist, as supreme commander, as someone who will make the brotherhood expand and triumph every time but he actually never like him as much as a  close friend, obviously he had to keep the appearances tho, wouldn’t say in his face that he was freacking annoying some times , and every attempt to look pissed off it was like Arthur didn’t catch the vibes or something, being called to spend time  together was a pain, give this impression of being close was a mistake he is paying until today, now he cant break this pain in the ass friendship.

I mean it wasn’t a bad thing to have a close and powerful friend but the truth is he didn’t like Arthur that much tho, he wasn’t someone exactly enjoyable…

They were good friends in the past its true but with time at least Danse started to find him too damn irritating, now he wanted to avoid him when he is in plan friends.

He picked up the folding white chairs and both walk to the snipers post on the top of the Citadels roofts

-Gentlemen –said Danse meeting the other brotherhood soldiers actually working with the chairs in hand- please go to patrol somewhere else until we are done

Both brotherhood soldiers look at each other with the power armor helmets and the laser rifles in hand.

-Are you sure Paladin? Did you have any gun to defend yourself in case of an attack? Fuckers tend to shoot the Citadels roofts just for fun

-Stay around in case of anything, we just wanna enjoy the breeze tonight –the elder show off the glasses and the whisky bottle, both soldiers take the hint and start walking around, away from them, giving privacy. The paladin place the chairs  and when Danse sat the elder give him a glass, In his insides Danse wanna die, he didn’t want to be there at all, he breathe out his nose tired without any desire-tired? Sorry if I summoned you after a long day of work

-I may eat too much in the dinning room and feeling heavy –answer Danse to pretend he is…tired.

-I wanted to talk you about something –never just drink something hu? Arthur poured the whisky into his glass and before taking any bullshit he take a quick shot of liquid-How many years since you met Sentinel Nora?

Oh shit lets better not be about

-almost 10 years

-And how many since you are in love with her? –shit not this. He didn’t want to talk about this with this man

But maybe 10 years, that was the real answer.

-Im not…-gosh he didn’t have the energy or even the setting to have this conversation

-Come on you don’t have to lie to me –said the elder with a smile, obviously predicting that he would do that.

Gosh so tiring, he didn’t feel like close friends like before to be talking about this personal subjects, the thing is that the elder is a very solitary man with very few close connections and Danse never properly cut his friend relationship with him, a mistake, keeps him on the wrong vibe. For him it was like well yeah we don’t hang out often but that doesn’t mean we cant chat normally about whats going on right? And for Danse its like please I don’t wanna do this anymore its not the same I don’t have the confidence you turned to be very awkward to be around lately and I don’t actually want to keep being friends with you

But fuck it was the elder, how can he say no? if he is a yes man to his commands were he tells him to put bombs in the mouth of Mierluks queens how can he say no to something so simple like a chat with whisky and the night breeze  just the two of them?

-She started as my initiate, I was her commander officer –nononot the rank bullshit, Arthur laughed.

-Yeah, maybe 9 years ago, come on, again, how many in years have you been in love with her?

He could answer he wasn’t, that she was like the sister he never had, that he would spill gladly his blood to keep her by his side, that he never look at her in that way because of ranks and abuse of power but…

-Its complicated –he said annoyed, asking for more whisky, Arthur serve him and he drank again, asking for more.

-You have been behind her heels almost since the beginning, when are you going to –when the glass was full he drank again surprising the elder

-Never –this time, Danse took the entire bottle, having him the control now, surprising Arthur- I don’t think I will

-But why? –Danse sighted, he didn’t really want to talk about this less with him.

-Like I said its complicated –he said pouring more whisky, saw Arthur in the corner of the eye drinking his, and ask for more.

-Its from her side or…? –the elder was served but he wouldn’t shut up.

-No –he just said- I do like her, but Im afraid of my feelings

Arthur blinked, confused.

-Come on, I saw you both, I caught together more than once–Danse blushed hard and look at him annoyed –in parties, not my fault you don’t hide well, it wasn’t my intention I was just walking and then find u…-drank again to hide himself a bit, he wasn’t a stalker or anything, it just happened that he was walking around and boom, find them fucking in a dark corner, obviously he got on his back and go out of that place to give them privacy but that situation happen A LOT more than he wished to encounter.

-We were drunk…-he replied low and ashamed

-All the times? –not all the times they have sex they were drunk, more than once they did it conscious and full consensuated even planned because they were horny and really close to each other, didn’t have the confidence with anyone’s-look im not trying to interfere…

Now Danse smiled bitterly –really?

-Don’t be like that –he chuckled.

-There’s a lot of things you don’t know

-Because I don’t know her like you –stated Arthur- that’s why I call you

-What do you mean? –Danse blinked

-What if I wanted to step on? –instantly and out of nothing Danse close a hand over his arm, Arthur got a bit nervous but it was more the surprise than anything of course such a thing wont intimidate him.

-Don’t –Danse told him, looking at the view of the wastelands in the night, don’t wanting to face him at all after doing that.

Arthur stood in silence, breathing, until he answers.

-Then step yourself, finally make your move

-Its not what you are thinking –the elder didn’t understand.

-I saw you both together, the way she looks at you, after almost 10 years its going to be reciprocated, don’t be afraid

-I already know that –the tighten on the elder arms grew stronger, that’s when Arthur decided to put a stop and hold his arm, making the paladin jump in surprise and let his fingers off, taking the arm inside his own legs ashamed for his bad reaction- but its not because of that im afraid.

Arthur raise an eyebrow and asked for more whisky, the paladin serve him- then what?

-Look I love her, she is truly like my sister even  we have been together more times than my hands can count, I would give my life for her, I will protect her to the end of the world, I will follow her orders and instructions until I give my last breath and…I love her, I truly do –Danse drank from his shot, then, from the bottle, surprising the elder

-Then why? You have been simping over her ass for the last 10 years –from the commonwealth to DC and more, even more and more cities and places, together- the only reason you are not already married then is because your shrimps are dead then

-That’s the thing  -he said looking at the man in the eyes- she is crazy, hella crazy

-I don’t follow  -he said asking for more whisky.

-She is capable? Yes, very. Strong? Of course. Smart? Clearly. Beautiful?

-Gorgeous –interrupted Arthur laughing- sorry

-She is a devil, a demon, a catch –Arthur nooded and Danse served him more –but has her head fucked up

-Come on

-Worst than a raider  -the aclaration made the elder wink.

-You are not talking seriously –heck yeah Danse was serious, tense and trembling even.

-You don’t know her like I do –the paladin breath out and poured more whisky in his glass- she had done some fucked up things, that’s why im afraid of my feelings for her, I shouldn’t be…attracted to someone like that, im also afraid of her sometimes

It was really that bad?

-I guess it has something to do with the death of her husband and son –the paladin nodded- but that was almost 9 years ago, I even forgot about that sometimes

-Once you are mother you are a mother forever –Danse drank again, then, copying, the elder drank- your first son its like the first love she says

-Sorry I don’t think that’s enough reason to keep torturing yourself –no, this chat was torture, it has him unravishing feelings he didn’t have any interest to keep in the air, this feelings have to be enclosed deep down on his heart.

-Well I know what I see, and heard, and was obligated to do  because she outranks me –he pointed to Arthur with his empty glass- I follow some fucked up orders, effective? Yes? Cruel? Also? Gives result? Don’t doubt of it, unmoral? Heck yeah

The elder take out the bottle of his hands and serve both –So, you don’t want her? –he said finally

-I love her, but not like this  -the elder hummed- I don’t think is part of her personality, or her persona, more about circumstances –the man keep his eyes on the dark wastelands as the other talked- she hates the world, the wastelands, the air, the water, the rain, the people, the society, the food, the buildings, the landscapes…everything…so she looks at everything like she was superior. When she talks about her past self she talks about another totally different person

-She knew better –he said frankly.

-Well I cant deal with her hatred just because she loose a baby and a husband and its resentful of the world, its more than I can handle honestly, and im not going to force myself, I know what kind of pitt it is try to change and force somebody into your point of view, its not a business im going to run –okay okay seems like a very well thought and respectable decision, clearly he took a lot of time thinking in that statement for himself, he knew himself and knew what he didn’t want for his life- im going to protect her forever, but im not risking my sanity into a relationship I just know its dangerous.

Both stood in silence, looking at the wasteland night.

-And if I want to? –ask Arthur.

-I already warn you –Danse drank- this realization make the last 10 years a torture, I cannot forget this feelings or let them pass, but I will not engage any kind of romantic relationship with someone so unstable.

-Maybe ill give it a shoot –the paladin look at him bad, annoyed, in a side, jealous, that he wanted to take the love is his life out of him but in the other angry that he was being ignored about a really serious warning.

-You don’t know what you are getting into if you try  -said taking out the shoot of whisky from his hands maybe it was enough for the elder now, that was a bold statement.

-I just know that she is really a good option for me, with her prewar genes –truth is Nora took contraception pills, because she feared to get pregnant, not by Danse exactly but from any motherfucker that by any chance rape her, as the wastelands were a crazy place- her minutemen force, the places she claimed, her fame as an intercontinental hero –he was interrupted by Danse.

-The other elders are pressuring you to have an heir –Maxson rolled his eyes like it was the most obvious thing in the world

-Of course they are pressuring me im 32 they are afraid my milk will dry out and I need to start bearing children’s, the more the better

Oh no this was bad. He wanted children’s and her…

-Im sure they already have matches for you

-They do, but I know a better match  so im curious–something give Danse a sharp pain.

-You don’t know her

Ohohoho that upset the man.

-I could try, if you don’t want to  -Arthur give the other man a defying glance, who grew even more annoyed.

-Im talking serious Arthur she is a problem, she has a lot of problems –the image in his head of both together infuriates him but also he was worried about so much stuff

-Well I cant think on a better match for the elder than a sentinel, and a leader faction –it was true even he can understand it but Nora doesn’t work like that.

-Im being very open and honest with you  -said the man in serious shock that he was ignoring it- do you really trust your future children to someone crazy?

Truth is Arthur believe it wasn’t that bad, he may be exaggerating

-I have to do it anyway, its not exactly my choice –it was true anyway, he was being pressured into finding a partner soon, if it was one of the elders daughter the better but if he finds one by his own no one will say a thing.

-Do you call me to talk because you want me to step up or because you have an interest in her? –Arthur only interest was because she was prewar and a faction leader but it was really little interest nothing else, he didn’t even care that much that she was a sentinel, it was a more a thing of power…and she was beautiful yes why not  he can see it but nononoon he really call him here to talk because he was curious about when the hell the paladin was going to do something with the chick that breaths out with every step near to her. Even for him it was noticeable her attraction to him, painful to see

-What do you think? –ask the elder trying to take his glass away from the paladins hands, but he didn’t let him do it.

-Are you talking seriously? –I mean if the paladin keeps defying him why not, maybe, now he was considering- she isn’t blond enough for your tastes

The elder stop in his place and bit his lips with force, more than he wished.

-Son of a bitch

What? He didn’t wanna talk in plan friends or what? He is the one who can only tease about his romantic life? fucker

-She is not one of your blond gals –now Arthur rob him the bottle of whisky and pour it into his lips, feeling a pinch of pain on his chest.

-Shut the hell up –oh, now he touch a sensitive subject.

Both stay in silence, until Danse talk again.

-I fear

-To what?

-I don’t now, I suppose everyone, Nora is not…normal, is an anxiety, I just fear –but it was selfish not letting her have a romantic life if he is purposely not corresponding to her feelings, he was aware of that. It was painful to knew he wasn’t  enough for how broken she was even if he desires her so much, he wanted with all his heart be enough but she needs so much more than he cant and honestly is not willing to give. If she was more like the past self she often talks about…he would correspond to her obvious all well know feelings but now…no, he cant never be with someone as sadistic and crazy like her, it make his spine shiver, all that problems will fall over his shoulders, she was a bag of problems.

The only reason she contains enough is because she still tries to win his heart fully, to make him fall on his knees, he wants to surrender and love her back but…she is too much and he can see it.

-I was honestly hoping to make you honest with your feelings for her

-I know what im purposely missing, and im not happy or neither proud of my decision, but im content knowing my limits and capacities

-I understand -he said and fill with the last of the bottle Danse shot- you also give her hopes by staying single for so long –the paladin look at his shot, paying attention to his reflection on the liquid- only letting her fuck you like you were exclusives –it was not the paladin intention, the man heart was conquered by Nora…and the brotherhood, if Nora was out he would be fully married to the brotherhood cause and nothing more, maybe getting laid by random sisters in the brotherhood like before but not with a woman around 24/7 scaring the shit out of every other pussy around

-Bold thing to say about my love life being the creepy stalker –said Danse taking his last shot of whisky, Arthur bit his lip ashamed, he never wanted to see them in the first place, it was an error.

-As elder im pretty much aware of the couples around –he let his back rest on the chair now the liquid was over- the beds are not comfortable to have fun so people sneak into some other places, its normal

-You know Nora its 45 years old right? –said the paladin calling the elders attention, also letting his back relax against the chair now there wasn’t more alcohol- may not be the best option for bearing children –his protecting side was interfering, protecting her from Arthur and protecting him from the crazy sentinel

-How old are you? –ask Arthur out of place

-52, give more than half of my life to the brotherhood

-and 10 years to love her –silence, the paladin look to another side- sorry, I just wanted to ask about you two because the tension seemed almost palpable, I was always rooting for you to get together, I didn’t know you feel that negative about her.

-I will follow her to the other side when the time comes, just not like her partner

-No matter if it hurts her?

-Even if it hurts her and she doesn’t understand why

Maxson wonder if she was really that much a reflag for the paladin to torture himself like that until their last breath.

So…45 hu? Conceiving a pregnancy at that age could be…fun to try…

[majorblinks]

we could call it even (twice nayeon)

(smut, idol Nayeon, car sex [oral], semi-public sex, choking, fluff, angst [kind of], 12k words)

For the record, it’s been seven years since you last saw Im Nayeon in the flesh. 

You don’t really like to think about it: about being sixteen and getting the news that your best friend in the whole world - the person who’d been by your side as long as you could remember, the person who’d been there for every single significant event in your life, who you’d been with through tears and failed tests and shitty high school relationships and nights spent at the beach in your hometown, running right into the waves the moment school let out - was heading off to chase her dream, to become wildly, unimaginably famous, which meant that you probably wouldn’t see her again for a very, very long time. 

“It might not even go anywhere,” Nayeon told you, wrapped up in a towel, the two of you huddled together on the beach, stars glimmering overhead. “I might - I mean, it’s totally possible that I’m going to fail miserably.” 

“You won’t,” you said, wistful, because you were acutely aware that Im Nayeon - gorgeous and charismatic and talented beyond belief, even then - was meant for so much more than anything she could get in your town. “There’s no chance you’re going to fail.” 

Nayeon glanced over at you, bottom lip caught between her teeth, eyes glassy, and you already both knew that things would never be the same. 

So - that’s where it ends, really, or at least where it should. She left, and got famous, and you stayed, and went to college. She didn’t keep in touch, because she couldn’t, and you didn’t expect her to. You stayed and you loved her and you understood. 

It’s not like you haven’t been keeping up with her, though. 

See, she’s everywhere: magazines, social media, on the radio, playing over the speakers in every store - there’s that voice, that perfect face, that body in form-fitting gowns and slinky designer dresses, caught by paparazzi in jeans and crop tops - now she’s all grown up, and a superstar, and so breathtakingly beautiful you do a double take every time you see her. Snapshots of her on red carpets, music videos; Nayeon’s present all the time, even when she’s not with you. You’ll be okay with it, you think. Not everything’s meant to last forever. Sometimes, it’s just a moment, but it’s enough. 

Your childhood best friend, taking the world by storm; you, behind the scenes, always cheering her on. Like you said, that’s where it all should end. Call it there - give it a clean break. It’s what you both deserve. 

-

It’s all over, except you’re in grad school, and it’s winter break, and by some miracle, you’re both in your hometown at the same time.

You don’t know it right away. You’re too caught up in the stunning nostalgia of your childhood bedroom, which is so deeply saturated with Nayeon’s presence that it’s almost like she’s still there - almost like she never left. It’s the pictures, it’s the candle on your nightstand that she bought for you, graphic t-shirts in your dresser that she used to steal; being here is like cracking open a time capsule, playing a supercut of the two of you, a short film cutting off right before the end. It’s more than a little bit suffocating, this kind of history spread out right in front of you, but you’ll deal. You always have. 

You’ve been here for a day, and you’re still settling in. It’s a sleepy afternoon, chilly in mid-winter, but the sun’s out, and the sky’s clear and cloudless. You step outside with your keys in your hand, about to go for a drive - there are ways to seek out nostalgia without drowning in it; you’re thinking old streets, movie theaters, coffee shops-

You stop short, confused.

You don’t actually make the connections, at first. Look, you were never close with Nayeon’s family: for all you know, they could’ve moved away years ago; you wouldn’t be surprised. And there’s no reason for her to be here - so it’s a fleeting thought, flickering out like a light.  

Plus, the girl you see right now, loitering by the car parked in the driveway of the house across the street, has long, silky blonde hair, catching in the sun like a halo. So - there’s no chance, you’re thinking, no way: it’s some new neighbor, or, like, a criminal - well, she’s tiny, she’s unassuming, so probably not that, but still-

The girl keeps leaning in, mumbling to herself, checking the back left tire. 

“Oh, shit,” she says, suddenly, and then lands a very ill-placed kick to the tire with her shoe. 

It’s a bad choice. It must hurt, because she gasps, tips to balance herself on the car - you notice her nails, which are these ridiculous acrylics, talon-sharp and with swirly white patterns - and you can’t see her expression, but her head ducks, swivels fast, glancing from her shoe to the tire, and then-

“Shit,” she says, again, and she bursts out laughing - and that's when you realize it.

Even from all the way across the street where you can’t see her face, even though this girl is blonde and there’s zero fucking chance she should be here right now, kicking her parents’ car with one of her beat-up leather boots - it’s all in that laugh, ringing brilliantly in the air like the music she makes. It's been seven years, and it’s still her. 

“Nayeon,” you call. It’s not a question. You've never been more sure of yourself. 

She turns, and - God - it’s like everything kicks into sudden slow motion, blurs, sharpens; you see her like you're seeing her for the first time, and in an instant, it's all in perfect clarity.

There’s that face: the one across billboards, album covers, the one in every photograph you have from high school, pressed close to yours - and abruptly it’s like you can’t even breathe, looking at her. Oh, none of the pictures do her justice, but you already knew that: she’s unbelievable, and right in front of you, and so, so real.

It’s something straight out of a movie, out of some fantasy, a far-off dream. Nayeon stands, straightens, stares, stares-

Then, casual to the point of comedy, she says, “Hey.” 

And it’s all so easy: like it hasn’t been years since you two have spoken, like you might be sixteen again and preparing to corral her to your side so you two can go to the beach - so natural, like nothing has changed at all. Nayeon props a hand on her hip, gestures to the car, asks, “Does this tire look flat to you?” 

You'll play along. Hey, you always did. “Um,” you say, from the sidewalk, grinning like an idiot. “I’m not an expert or anything, but - yeah, it does look kind of fucked up, huh?” 

“Kind of,” agrees Nayeon. 

“Yeah.” 

Nayeon doesn’t even look at the tire; doesn’t take her eyes off of you for even a second. She’s so insanely, impossibly beautiful - and then her full lips crack to a smile, flashing her teeth at you, radiant enough to rival the sun. 

“Hey,” she says, again, except now her voice is thick with emotion. 

“Hey,” you echo, and wait. 

It takes one beat, then two, and then Nayeon’s running at you, her laugh carrying on the wind. Her leather boots clap on the asphalt, her blonde hair streaming behind her, giving up every act, every attempt at playing it cool. It's just like her, around you again: you'll click right back into place like it's the only thing you were ever meant to do, and-

“Oh my god,” Nayeon exhales, and then she’s launching herself right into your arms. 

For those few moments - those moments when you catch her around the waist, and her hands loop around your neck, and you hug her body close to you, half-drunk on the smell of her hair - she’s not Im Nayeon, global phenomenon; she’s your Nayeon, your best friend, your girl, yours. Yours, and she’s laughing that wonderful, infectious laugh, giddy like she knows it. 

It’s been seven years - and then Nayeon pulls back, palms slipping to cup your cheeks, and it’s like it’s been no time at all. 

“Oh my god,” she whispers again, reverent. “You…” 

Her thumbs find the sides of your face, the dimples bracketing your mouth that she used to obsess over, and her words slip away into nothing. “Me?” you ask, teasing her. “You. That hair, Nayeon-” 

“It fits me, right?” Nayeon’s tongue pokes out between her teeth, eyes sparkling. There’s something about her name on your lips: it makes her shiver, and you press your fingers into her hips, needing her closer - her chin’s tilted up at you, expression open, like she needs the exact same thing. “It’s for my new comeback. No one’s seen it yet.” 

“Saving it for me?” 

“Shut the fuck up.” 

You laugh out loud - the vulgarity. You can’t imagine she’s been able to be so profane in her day-to-day life, not in her line of work: she’s had to be pristine, this whole time, holding back with a camera-ready smile and a script. It’s something else, seeing her instead of her image. There’s something you’ll test later - what rules she’s ready to break, after all this time. You’ll get back to it.

Nayeon’s beaming, sunlight threading through her hair. She’s still got your face in her hands, and you’ve got your hands on her waist, and there are no boundaries like you’ve never spent any time apart. “You look so…” 

She trails off, flushing prettily. 

“I look so what?” you prompt, entertained. 

“No,” says Nayeon, accusatorily. She pats your cheek with one hand, and there’s that charming glint of her front teeth in her grin - that’s a smile people’d pay just to see, and they have. “I’m not saying it.” 

“You don’t have to,” you say, and pat her hip in retaliation. It gets another laugh from her, bright and pleased. “I know what you meant.” You grin, pull her closer, add, “Right back at you.”

You could kiss her and you don’t. Instead, you draw her into your arms, hug her body tight to yours, feel all the new, firm muscle where youthful softness used to be; everything seems so different, on the surface, and you’re both older and busier and there’s her blonde hair, her nails, how every part of her seems planned and curated, a trademark of the celebrity life - she’s in a cream-colored sweater and jeans and no makeup, and still looks permanently silver-screen perfect. It’s been years, and she’s grown into herself elegantly, beautifully. It’s been years, and she’s in your arms again, and she’s become everything she wanted to be and more. 

Nayeon buries her face in your neck, and takes a few deep, shuddering breaths, trying to keep it together - and you realize that maybe some things never change.

-

See - against all fucking odds, really - you and Nayeon are never anything more than just friends.

There’s all this pretense, at first. You’ve spent basically all your lives glued to each other’s sides, right on the edge of codependence, but it’s high school, and it’s the status quo, so you both try dating other people. It’s not that it’s totally disastrous, or anything - it’s just that none of the relationships last, and none of them are as important as the two of you together. 

“They’re so boring,” Nayeon complained to you one day, both of you in your living room, watching some movie, her feet kicked up in your lap. “Well - okay, maybe that’s not totally accurate. It’s just - every date I go on, I just think of how much more fun it would be if you were there.” 

“Yeah,” you said, pinching her knee, earning a squeal from her. “You, me, and your boy toy of the week. It’d be a laugh riot.” 

“Fuck off,” said Nayeon, nose wrinkling, staving off a smile. “No, I mean - if you were there instead of him.”

So - sure, it’s really obvious, and everyone who knows you two sees it too. It’s you, and it’s her, and no one else is ever really going to be able to compete. 

The reason why you never say it out loud is because of the only thing bigger than how you feel about her: Nayeon’s ambitions, her goals, her passion and drive. She doesn’t belong in this town, with you. She’s got stars in those gorgeous eyes, dreams of glitz and glamour and fame - and if there’s one thing you know about Im Nayeon, it’s that she knows exactly what she wants and just how to get it. You sort of always know that one day she’s going to end up leaving you behind. You know that the thought of tying her down, shackling her to the streets of this town, to you - it makes you nauseous. Holding a girl like that back would be a mortal sin: the universe would never forgive you for it. 

(You know it all the way up until the night before she leaves for good, when she kisses you at your front door, her suitcases already packed - it’s not the first time you’ve kissed her, and it certainly doesn’t feel like the last, but you know it’s all you’ve got for now. 

Don’t forget about me, alright? Nayeon said, then, tears in her eyes, tears in yours. 

Never, you said. I could never. 

You didn’t tell her you loved her, because you wanted to have something to give her when she came back, no matter how long it took.)

-

You and Nayeon never actually date in high school, but somehow - as delightfully easy as breathing, as inevitable as the stars slipping right into alignment - you two end up falling in love anyway. 

-

It’s seven years later, and your heart is hers, just the same way as it always has been. 

“No one knows I’m here,” Nayeon tells you now, from the passenger seat of your car; turns out her tire actually is flat, so now you’re chauffeuring her around, basically - not like you’re complaining. “I’ve done a pretty decent job at keeping my childhood private - the general public cares a lot more about my present than my past.” 

Plus, no one knows she’s blonde yet, you point out, not even her fans. “Because you were saving that for me,” you insist. “You wanted to get my opinion first.” 

“Shut up,” says Nayeon, then softens, goes serious. “I wasn’t… I wasn’t sure if you’d even be here, you know.” 

The truth is you haven’t been, for the most part. Your university’s around an hour and a half away, and you don’t visit as much as you should. But now you’re here, and she’s here, and you’ve been driving in circles for the past hour - going past your old school, the church, all the rich neighborhoods. It’d be too risky to actually go anywhere, so this is what you’ve got, and neither of you seem to mind. 

“Hey,” you tell her, flick your blinker, hook a left. “I’m always going to be here.” 

You’re not talking about the town. When you glance over at Nayeon, she’s got this tilt to her mouth, a telltale sign: she understands exactly what you mean.

-

You’re falling back into old rhythms, patterns. You go through a drive-through, and Nayeon studiously stares out the window the whole time, trying to cover her face with her hair - it’s an admirable attempt at staying incognito, considering anyone who takes a single look at those eyes and that dazzling smile is going to know exactly who she is.

“Smooth,” you say when it’s over, pulling into the parking lot. You’re splitting a giant coffee and it’s like you’re back in high school. “Were you just planning on holing up in your house the whole time you’re back? You can’t exactly go anywhere without being recognized.”

You both click your seatbelts off, and now Nayeon’s got her legs tucked to her chest, her cheek resting on the tops of her knees. “Honestly?” She waves her hand at you, glittering acrylics flashing - you tip the coffee towards her, let her sip from the straw. “I didn’t really plan any of this. I had time off for once, so I took it. It’s the holidays, so it was just…” She shrugs. “The most reasonable plan of action, I guess.” 

“You could’ve gone anywhere,” you say; you’re fishing for something, and she knows it. “Like, way more fun places than this shitty town. Los Angeles. The Bahamas. Paris.” 

“Sure.”

“So?” You set the coffee in one of the cup holders. “Why didn’t you?”

You and Nayeon were best friends for so long that you basically grew to share a brain, thoughts, opinions - there were those times you’d look at her and know exactly what she was thinking, those times where just a lift of her eyebrows or a curl to her lips could communicate whole sentences, sentiments - things with her have always been so natural, so instinctual. It should be awkward, after seven years, after her rise to fame and your lack thereof. There should be oceans between you, whole worlds. There should be stumbling, time to find footing, missteps and whatever thread always tied you two together at least frayed, if not snapped entirely. 

There should be, but there isn’t. Nayeon’s always been able to read your mind just like you can read hers, and that’s not about to stop now. 

“You don’t need me to answer that,” she says, gaze stuck on your eyes, your teeth, your throat. The two of you are just as inevitable as you always were, and she’ll prove it. “I think you already know.” 

-

Like you said, you’ve kissed Nayeon before: too many times to count. 

You don’t really have a logical explanation, for all of that. It’s just that when you were younger you two spent every waking moment together, and you two were deliberately, unusually touchy: you can’t even begin to fathom the amount of times your classmates ran into you and Nayeon in the halls, or at parties, and pointedly backed off like they thought they were interrupting something. 

(Well, they kind of were - it’d be her with a grip on your forearm, her with her legs in your lap, you with an arm slung around her shoulders, her waist, caught up in some conversation that was only comprehensible to you two. It’d have killed you to be apart, back then, even though you always knew it was coming. You knew you’d be ripped apart, eventually. You took all the time you could get.) 

The kissing - you can’t even blame that on alcohol, can’t fall back on cop-outs or excuses. It wasn’t like you two ever truly planned for it to go down like it did. Just - sometimes, you’d be looking at her, so filled with unbridled, uncontained affection, something you couldn’t even begin to put into words - you’d see her eyes, and the soft way she’d look at you, and it was like everything you’d wanted had already happened.

So that’s where it starts, really: you’d kiss her just to make a point, tilt her face towards yours, slot your lips together. If it were anyone else, they’d have freaked, called you insane; Nayeon just smiled afterwards, eyes shutting, content and understanding, the kind of knowing that comes with whatever cosmic connection that was obviously keeping you two tangled up together beyond repair - intertwined at the hands, at the heart. 

You didn’t talk about it, because she was always leaving, even while she was right there with you. You could feel it, more than anything. You’ve always sort of been running out of time. 

The point is - well, you’ve kissed her plenty of times, just to tell her how you felt without saying it out loud. Careful, and gentle, and with all the clear intention in the world. 

(The point is, it’s all these years later, and you know exactly how it feels to watch Nayeon leave. The point is that you have nothing left to lose, so-)

-

You’ve driven around so long that it’s dark outside. You’ve talked for hours, recapping the past seven years as best you can, hanging on each other’s every word: going through friends and careers and drama and conflict in excruciating, meticulous detail, and you’re still not even close to being done. It’s pouring outside, raindrops coating the windshield, and Nayeon says, abruptly, “I’m leaving in a week.” 

“Okay,” you say, and pull your car into the driveway. 

It’s not a question, and it’s the opposite of tension. You park the car and step out, and she’s right there at the passenger side, rain soaking her blonde hair, dripping down her neck, staring at you. It’s pitch-black outside, but there are those eyes: luminescent, longing personified. She’s the most famous woman in the country - you’ve seen those eyes everywhere. It’s nothing compared to having her in front of you now. 

“A week,” Nayeon says, again, shutting the car door. “That’s all we’ve got.” 

It’s not a question, so you don’t answer it. 

It all gets away from you, in a split second - time, and your mind, and all your inhibitions - you’re rounding the car, and then you’ve got your hands in her drenched hair. Your mouth’s inches from hers, and her lips are already parted - you think of deja vu, you think this has already happened, or it was already meant to - you think of crazy, impossible things, and then you kiss her. 

Nayeon melts underneath you, like succumbing to a wound - no, it’s too soft to be that, too safe - like slipping between sheets, like finding rest and relief after months on your feet - it’s a thunderstorm after a drought, an oasis, a second chance - and she’s so small when you press her against the car, as her mouth opens, spine curving, hands finding the nape of your neck. 

The energy between you is electric, a shock to a system: it’ll be an overload, if you don’t fuck her right now - it’s been too long, it’ll blow all the breakers. You need her and it’ll kill you if you don’t have her. “Nayeon,” you murmur, fingers tangling in her hair, hips trapping her to the car door-

Nayeon makes this otherworldly noise into your mouth, high and keening and needy, and for a beat you actually think you’re going to die. 

“Your house,” gasps Nayeon, panting when she pulls back, the pressure from what feels like eons wanting you and being denied finally dropping to the pavement, washing away with the rain. “Is it - please tell me no one’s home.” 

It’s the two of you, and every single star aligns, for once in seven years: call it a comet, an eclipse, something to capture and study and scrutinize. “No one’s home.” 

There’s that moonlight, gleaming overhead, breaking through the clouds. It bathes Nayeon like it’s blessing her, like it sees the extraordinary life she’s led so far and deems her deserving of it - like it looks at you, and by some million-in-one chance, by some surreal string of fate, it deems you deserving of her.

(Maybe you are, then. Maybe you always were.) 

“Okay,” says Nayeon, and her hand takes yours - for a moment, you swear she’d run away with you, leave it all behind. “Then let’s go.” 

-

Somehow, in the dark, you still know her. 

You stumble up to your bedroom and you never even make it to the light switch - the moon’s coming in through slats in your blinds, the rain’s a drum line, a soundtrack - and Nayeon’s peeling off your shirt, fumbling with her ridiculous nails at the button of your jeans. 

“Don’t strain yourself,” you say, grinning, your hands finding the hem of her top. “Your company will crucify you if you fuck up that manicure.” 

“Fuck you,” says Nayeon, and suddenly she’s laughing, a harmony to the growing storm outside. She pops the button, drags the zipper, slow like she knows she’s unraveling you in the process. “Fuck you. Fuck me.” 

The rain’s got her soaked to the skin - you get her sweater off, and then her jeans, and she’s in this scarlet-red bra, matching panties - it’s an image straight out of all your wet dreams, and you can’t help but stare, mouth agape, fingers lingering at her hips. Nayeon’s too flawless to be real; she’s smirking at you like she knows it. She’s used to be ogled, stared at, lusted after: she’s used to people wanting to rip her apart, and she’ll act like it. 

“Jesus christ,” you say, unable to tear your eyes off her body - there’s her collarbone, her tits, her smooth, toned midriff - her wet hair, her creamy thighs - it’s all there, just for you. No one else gets to see her like this, no eager fan or follower - just you. 

“Right?” says Nayeon, breathless and amused, high on how you’re looking at her. “Red really is my color.” 

Somehow the arrogance only heightens the mood, the overwhelming arousal steeping the room. Something about making a god learn manners, respect; something about taking a deity and putting her in her place. “That ego,” you consider, skating your nails up her back, stopping at the clasp of her bra.

“What about it?” 

“No, nothing.” You unhook it, grin at the shaky breath it gets from her. “I just think you might need to get it fucked out of you.” 

Nayeon’s used to being mythologized, idolized, painted so perfect that everyone arounds her considers her something more than human, more than magic: she’s got hundreds of thousands of people ready to kneel at her feet, give her the world on a silver platter. She’s been spoiled, you think, tracing her body with your fingertips. She’s been treated like carved marble, behind glass and roped off, invulnerable, untouchable. 

(But here you are, anyway: the one person on the planet who truly knew her before all that - before fame took hold of a girl and made her a legend. Before fame took the love of your life and let everyone else fall in love with her, too. Well, you’re not about to blame them; you never could.) 

Nayeon’s staring at you, a challenge in her eyes, a sharp, secret violence in her smile. 

“I don’t know about all that,” she says, “but you can try.” 

-

It’s a dare, it’s a taunt - after all this time, and you’re still the only one who can match her beat for beat, touch for touch: there’s her bra, slipping to the floor, there’s your thumb over her nipples, hardening them to points, your teeth on her chest and leaving marks. She’s on your bed, her damp hair tumbling over one shoulder, the intoxicating ring of her irises like a shot in the dark. 

“You don’t even know,” pants Nayeon, voice thick with heat, as you stroke her pussy through her panties. “You don’t even fucking know how long I’ve wanted this.” 

“Oh,” you say, and pull her underwear to the side roughly - there’s that cunt, just for you, glistening and sopping wet and so, so ready - and a smirk finds your mouth, just off the brink of cruel. “I think I’ve got an idea.”

Nayeon’s so greedy, and you get it - she’s gotten everything she’s ever wanted for years and years, without question or hesitation - and she’s reaching for your hand, your fingers, needing you inside her in any way she can get you. She’s beyond wet; you already know she’s going to ruin your sheets, she’s gonna ruin something-

“Watch it,” you snap, grabbing her wrist so hard she yelps. “If you wanna get fucked, Nayeon, you need to behave.” 

“Please,” Nayeon shoots back. The words tremble - she’s so turned on, she can’t hide it - but she’ll never back down from a fight. “I could get anybody to fuck me. I could walk out of here right now and have someone else’s dick in me in ten minutes.” 

She’s rambling. You’re gonna bruise her wrist. Her tits heave as she tries to catch her breath, and when you brush against her pussy with your other hand, she lets out this gorgeous, weakened whimper - you’ve got her, you’ll make an example of a higher power, take an idol and make her human again. 

“Sure.” Your fingers find her clit, teasing; Nayeon’s eyes snap to yours, ferocious, murderous. “But you don’t want just anybody.” Your dick throbs - there’s something primal, animalistic; if you wait any longer she’s gonna jump you, take what she wants and fuck you stupid. It’d be a threat if you didn’t want the exact same thing. “You want me.” 

“Fucking asshole,” says Nayeon, hoarsely, but then you’ve got two fingers in her, her pussy clenching around you, and there’s a waning edge in the hostility: you know her too well. She’s not into being patient, ever. There’s never been a line between you two that she hasn’t been willing to toe. “You know - you know I never wanted anyone but you.” 

That’s the blow, the bomb that’ll implode the two of you - or it would, but there’s never been a single secret between you and Nayeon, and that’s not about to change now. 

“I know,” you manage, stunned, mesmerized by her, your palm falling from her wrist to her flat stomach, your fingers sliding out of her with an obscene, slick sound. “I know.” 

“Please,” she begs. “Please fuck me.” 

It’s filthy, it’s feelings, it’s years in the making. The head of your cock is at her needy, drooling cunt, and you can see it in her eyes, in the bruising marks you left scattered across her tits, her throat. It doesn’t matter how long it’s been. No one’s ever going to know her how you know her - no one’s ever even going to come close. 

Your bury your dick inside of her, and it’s like there’s an ache you’ve waited lifetimes to relieve - and then, finally, ultimately, you’ve got her perfect pussy just for you, and you relieve it. 

“God,” you hiss; Nayeon’s already whining, squirming under your hand firmly at her middle, holding her down - you think of going for her neck and you will, you think of flipping her over and watching her ass bounce back on your cock, and it’ll happen - but working your dick inside her impossibly tight pussy is more than enough for the time being; you’ve got your hands full, figuratively, literally. “This fucking pussy, Nayeon-” 

You say her name, and it wrecks her - her fingers find yours where they’re balanced on her midriff, curling around you - and her jaw is slack, expletives falling from between her pretty, pouty lips like she’s never been advised to keep up a clean image. She’s with you, and she’s nothing like she is on camera. “Fuck me,” she’s babbling, “fuck me, fuck - your cock is so - fucking big, fucking me so good-” 

She’s nothing like she is on camera, wrapped around your cock and crying out, but she’s everything that Im Nayeon has always been, otherwise: beautiful, irresistible, the most incomparable thing this town’s ever seen, and ever would. There’s all that bite to her, but she’s giving it up. You’re fucking her and for once she’s not gonna fight you on that. 

“Just like I thought,” you murmur, and your thumb skates over her clit, gets a squeal, gets several. “You were fucking made to take my cock, weren’t you?” 

You’re back in your time capsule of a room, and your veins are on fire, skin up in flames - you knew you wouldn’t be able to fuck her without dragging emotions into it, dragging your heart along as you pound Nayeon’s cunt, jerk your hips and get her screaming - you know that when you say it, you’re really saying something else, too. We were always going to end up this way, weren’t we?

“Yes,” Nayeon moans, voice ripping at the seams - it’s all the pleasure, all the anticipation, consuming, devouring. “Yes, yes, yes-”

You’re captivated by every single sound out of her mouth, every minute expression of that face, every gut-wrenching squeeze of her pussy, tight around your cock - call it a vice, the way she clamps down around you, the way you indulge in her perfect body like it’s a drug you’re using. Nayeon’s features crumple, fold: you’ve seen her onstage with all that bravado, all that confidence, showing off for a crowd - you’ve seen her hips and her tits and her tiny waist in form-fitting, skimpy outfits, practically painted to every curve - but now, she’s all for you. 

(Hey, maybe her ego’s contagious; maybe you’ve got the girl everybody wants, and you get why they all treat her like a god.)

You’ll mind all your breaking points. “Cum for me, baby,” you order, and Nayeon screams. 

There’s no air in the room, anymore, none in your lungs - it’s a fire without oxygen, nowhere to stay or go or feed on - and as she’s still shaking from her orgasm, jaw slack, you’re pulling out of her just to shoot your load all over the flawless, flat plane of her stomach, covering her skin in your cum - there’s everyone’s god, now, underneath you, slutty and sloppy and so thoroughly fucked-

“Oh, god,” Nayeon chokes out, strangled, the moment your cum soaks her. “Oh my god-” 

It’s all in the air, with the two of you: the sex, the intimacy, the history. You take her stunning face in her hands and you dip to kiss her, fully aware of how responsive she is, the very second your lips meets hers. There’s a moan, there’s the arch of her back, there’s her tongue licking desperately into your mouth - “Nayeon,” you murmur, and tip your forehead to hers. Her breath’s uneven, eyelids fluttered shut. “Nayeon.” 

Her eyes are closed, but a smile finds her lips, lights up her whole face; it’s a smile you’ve seen forever, in photos, across billboards, in all your best memories. 

“You don’t even understand what you do to me,” she says, serenely, faintly. “When you say my name like that.” 

There’s all that desire, and then the quiet honesty, and you swear a moment like this could last a lifetime. “Hey,” you say, and kiss her face - her nose, her forehead, both cheeks. You’ll take her as long as she’ll have you. “I think we’ve established by now that I know all about what I do to you.” 

-

Nayeon’s a little hypnotized by how much you came across her stomach, a little stuck on it - you get up to get her some tissues, and when you turn around, she’s got cum-covered nails in her mouth, sucking on them shamelessly. The noises she’s making are fucked, and you stare. 

“Fucking hell,” you say, dropping at her side on the bed. 

“What?” asks Nayeon sweetly, licking her bottom lip. “You’re the one who came all over me. What did you want me to do?” 

She’s trying to go for your usual banter, but it’s too soft, her smile too knowing and familiar, her body too open and comfortable. You can’t call this a one-night stand, can’t call it a fluke - she’s so safe in your bed that it looks like she’d stay there forever, if she could, you and her and these four walls. 

Nayeon’s clothes are all over your floor, and you clean up all that silky skin. Her hair’s a mess, and the moon’s still coming through your window, glossing her body, her gorgeous eyes. You watch her face, and you can read her as well as you always have: every thought, every single intent. 

(She’ll have to let this go, but she’s got a week to feel it first. It’s torture, the ticking clock, but it’s nothing the two of you haven’t had to feel already.)

“I can’t believe we haven’t done that before,” muses Nayeon, as you brush her hair off her forehead - she’ll have to take a shower, and you’ll have to join her, naturally. “Well, what’s the verdict?” 

You eye her, sensing the jab like she’s already said it. “Sorry?” 

“Fucking someone famous.” Nayeon tilts her head, smile sparkling like the stage lights she spends all her time under. “Was it everything you thought it would be?” 

“Shut up.” You grab her at the hips, and she laughs, a mess of giggles, filling the space - she’s a celebrity, she’s larger than life - you’re the only one who can ground her like this. “You’re such a fucking idiot.” 

“Excuse me?” 

“Yeah,” you say, touching your lips to the top of her head. “That’s the only reason I wanted to fuck you, Nayeon. Because you’re famous. That’s all this is, obviously. Thanks for the bragging rights.” 

The sarcasm drenches each syllable, and Nayeon laughs louder - she can read your every thought, but this one’s a lie that’s too clear to call out: you loved her long before all the superstardom, all the money, all the recognition. She knows exactly how you feel about her, and she won’t pretend otherwise. You know just how she feels about you, and it’s the most certain you’ve ever been about anything. 

“Oh,” she says coyly, and leans in to kiss you. “You’re so welcome.” 

-

The next morning, you’re taking inventory, staring at the girl in your bed and wondering how you’re going to explain this to your parents. She’s dressed by now, in one of your t-shirts and a pair of your pajama pants, drawstring pulled tight around her small waist and so oversized they cover her feet - that’s already bad enough, but then there’s her neck, pale skin marred with hickeys - okay, it’s worse. 

“How do you feel about sneaking out the window?” you ask. 

Nayeon tries to kick you and almost slides off the bed. “You think your parents will care that we had sex?” Her hair’s freshly washed, tied up and out of her face. “They’ve wanted you to marry me since the first time I came over.” 

You gape at her, but her nose crinkles up with her grin, and, well - it’s not like she’s wrong. 

True to her word, your parents are thrilled that she’s here - they’ve never really grasped the scope of exactly what a big deal Nayeon is, now, so they treat her just like they did when she was younger, spending breakfasts and family dinners with you, fitting in so smoothly it was like she’d always been there. To your parents, you think they’ll kind of always see Nayeon as that bright-eyed, eternally charming girl that stuck by your side like you’d both collapse if you had to be apart. There’s that same smile, that effervescent laugh - you can’t really fault them for it. 

“How long are you here?” your mom asks her, as she’s making breakfast, and Nayeon’s at the kitchen table, nonchalantly recounting stories of all her famous friends. “Just for the holidays?” 

“A week,” says Nayeon, glancing at you, mouth twisting ruefully. 

Your mom makes a sympathetic noise. “Oh, that’s not very long, huh.” 

Compare it to the seven years you spent apart - and no, it’s not. It’s a blip, a snag in time. In the grand scheme of things, it’d probably be nothing. 

“No,” agrees Nayeon; it’s never nothing, when it’s the two of you. Her hand finds yours under the table, and it’s everything that matters, wrapped up in an hourglass, sand slipping through your fingers. “But we’ll make it count.” 

-

“We’ll make it count?” you berate her, later, in the car as you’re driving up to the mansions on the hill, testing codes for gated communities, pointing out gaudy architecture like you’re real estate snobs - it’s an old game, a remnant from high school shenanigans. Nayeon could buy this whole neighborhood, and it’s somehow become hilarious, all these years later. “Way to tell my mom that you and I are going to be fucking nonstop the whole time you’re here-” 

“Like she didn’t already know,” says Nayeon, unapologetic, and points to her neck. She’s still in your clothes: no point in getting dressed when she can’t exactly leave the car without getting recognized, but you think she’d stay in your t-shirts all week, regardless. 

It’s an old story, between the two of you. “You’re such a slut.” 

“Yeah, and you’re directly benefiting from it, so I don’t know why you’re complaining.”

She says it like a proposition, and - hey, that’s an opportunity you’re never going to pass up. You’ll cash your checks, reap your benefits. You’ll pull off to the side of the road and throw the car in park, bury your hand in her hair as she leans over the console, tugs down your pants, gets her pouty lips wrapped around your dick in record time-

“What would your fans say?” you tell her, lowly, hypnotized by how she gags around you. “Seeing their angelic little idol with a cock shoved down her throat.” 

Nayeon pulls back just to laugh, raspy and shot, spit dripping from the corners of her mouth. “They’d fucking love it and you know it.”

You’re up in the hills, in the midst of construction sites, all danger and risk and safety hazards waiting to happen; you can’t get enough of how Nayeon slobbers around your cock, how she’s everything you’ve ever wanted wrapped up in one - the slickness of her tongue, the tightness of her throat, her blonde ponytail in your fist as her head bobs, fast, faster-

When you cum in Nayeon’s mouth, she chokes on it, can’t even swallow it all down. “Jesus fucking christ,” she gets out, and she’s giggling, so pleased with herself, wiping the cum dribbling from her lips, down her chin. “You - wow.” She taps the head of your cock with the ridged back of one of her nails, works her jaw like she’s trying to memorize the feeling of your dick filling her mouth. “Your cock is so sensitive.” 

“Gloating?” you ask, struggling to catch your breath. “That’s - like - that’s such a turn-off, Nayeon.”

It’d be slightly more convincing if she didn’t still have your cum staining her lips. “Liar.”

You hook your fingers in the collar of the shirt she’s wearing, tug her closer to nip at her neck - she gives this noise that’s somewhere between an affronted squeal and an aroused, needy exhale. She’s so easy, but so are you. She’s so transparent, but with this little time there’s nothing else to be. 

You’ll make it work; you’ll catch up. “Fine,” you admit, pressing down on hickeys you’ll only darken, aggravate - she’s got you wrapped around her finger, but at least it’s mutual. “I guess your narcissism is kind of sexy, or whatever.” 

“I hate your fucking guts,” says Nayeon, but she’s smiling. 

-

There’s all this ease to it, something you’ve never found with anyone else; something you don’t think you’ll ever find again. You two have always been a little obsessed with each other. 

“More than a little,” Nayeon revises, considering it; you’re three days in, walking back all your history. You can’t keep your hands off of each other, can’t keep your mouths closed, can’t keep from falling for the millionth time. “I just remember thinking that I could tell you about every embarrassing shitty thing I’d ever done, and you’d just listen, and not make fun of me for it. You knew what I could handle, you know?” 

You get what she means: teenage boys like to tease, to insult - you weren’t exempt from that, but you looked at Nayeon and you always seemed to know what lines never to cross. How to be gentle with her, when you knew she needed it. 

“You too,” you point out; Nayeon was perceptive when it counted, reading rooms, boundaries. She’d defend you to the death without hesitation. “Whenever I was with you, I knew I could trust you. Like I felt safe with you.” 

You can think of situations where you’d feel emasculated, admitting it - but there’s Nayeon with her eyes, her genuine, generous smile, sitting at your desk chair, jeans and a gauzy white top. She gets you, and you never have to explain, never have to bother with defenses. You’re with her and vulnerability spills like it’s never had a reason not to. 

“All this past tense,” pegs Nayeon, charmed more than concerned. 

“Right,” you say, realizing. “Hey, it all still applies. I feel safe with you.” 

There’s your past: teachers knowing you two were a matching set, classmates calling her your other half, texting any second you were apart, touching the moment you were together again. Shifting from jokes to sincerity so easily, ride-or-die in all senses of the phrase. Well, here’s your present: there’s the sex, now, and that’s another angle to it. You’d think it’d ruin a friendship this intense; you’d assume it’d only complicate things - you’d be wrong. There’s never been anything simpler, between you and Nayeon. 

Nayeon softens, and rises from your chair just to fit herself into your arms. There’s that smile: no one gets me like you get me, she’s saying. You’ve got only days left; you’re picking your battles. You’ll remember everything that made you two exactly who you are now. 

(Oh - it’s not like you ever really forgot. Nayeon’s got all the love and attention she could ever need, and she’s still here, with you.) 

“Flattery,” Nayeon says, finally, arching an eyebrow at you, her face too adorable for the suggestive tilt to her voice, “will get you everywhere.” 

Her palm slips to your chest, finds your heart. “I’m not even trying to flatter you,” you say, amused. “And if I was, I can do better than that.” 

“Then do better,” replies Nayeon, rapid-fire. “What, you need some incentive?” 

It’s just like the two of you: teasing, to truth, to seconds away from ripping each other’s clothes off, taking sexual tension and bending it entirely to your will. There’s so many routes to intimacy - you loop your fingers in the waistband of her jeans, and this is the one you’re choosing tonight. She’s leaving, either way. You’ll fuck her like you’ve got all the time you could ever need.

-

You’re all about old habits, the two of you: your jaw drops when you get her out of her clothes, and then you laugh so hard you almost topple over. 

“I’m sorry,” you say, enamored, fascinated, “you packed lingerie for a holiday break in your hometown? So - you aren’t even pretending that your plan wasn’t to get fucked, now.” 

Nayeon sticks out her bottom lip, furrows her brows. She’s playing at irritated, but she’s too proud of herself, how your eyes are glued to her body even though the laughter - she plants her hands on her waist, and that’s only one place to look. Her lingerie’s all lacy and black and ribboned, panties so tiny you could snap them between your fingers, the cups of her bra with scalloped edges, fit to every curve like it was custom-made for her. It’s Im Nayeon, anyway: you wouldn’t be surprised if it was. 

“What can I say?” She shifts, tosses her pale curtain of hair over a slender shoulder. All those cracks about her ego - well, you won’t lie here: it’s so fucking hot. “I like to be prepared.” 

You hook your fingers in the sides of her panties, tangling your grip in what virtually amounts to nothing but flimsy strings, biting into the creamy skin of her hips. “Was this expensive?” 

“Very.” Nayeon’s dark eyes flash at you, already following where you’re going. Perks of fucking someone who basically shares half your brain. “Which means if you rip any of it in any way, you’re paying for the damage.” 

“You’d foot the bill for me,” you say, one hand already going to cup her pussy.

Nayeon’s knees tremble, glare slipping down a few watts - she attempts to recover, to double back with twice the venom. It’s a valiant effort, or it would be, if she weren’t so visibly, undeniably desperate. “Uh, the fuck I would.” 

“Hm.” She’s already soaked, and the whine you get from her when you slip a finger inside her cunt is music all her fans would bankrupt themselves just to hear. “I think I could probably find a way to convince you.” 

-

You rip the panties, because you know what lines to never cross, and which ones Nayeon’s just begging you to run right through. “See?” you say, gratified, as you make her cum, and cum, and cum. “Told you: I can be very convincing."

You think she’d probably try to put up a fight, on this one, but she’s too busy clamping down tight around your cock, her gorgeous eyes rolling back into her head, lips dropping moan after moan. She shudders when you slide out of her, your cum dripping from her pussy, and curls up right to your side - okay, so maybe there’s no fighting anything. Nayeon presses her lips to your jaw, and smiles like her own satisfaction is a secret she’s hiding. 

“I’ll let it slide,” she whispers, soft against your neck. “Only just this once. Only for you.”

-

Here’s the thing: you’re running out of time, but you always were. You could ask her to stay with you, give it all up, but you won’t; you’d never. She fills you in on every minute detail of her life, and she’s so happy - you’ve never seen her so happy. 

“Fame suits me,” says Nayeon, unashamed. “It’s exhausting and fucked and anxiety-inducing - and it’s so much fun. It’s exhilarating. It’s like - it’s a non-stop adrenaline rush.” She laughs, free, talking the dream she’s living into reality - like you’d ever be able to wrap your head around it. “I think I’m kind of good at it, too.” 

Her lips quirk at a corner, a deliberate understatement; she never needs to act humble with you. 

Nayeon doesn’t even have an agenda, with this. She loves talking about her life, all the opportunity: the events, the fans, the attention, the way she can sing anything and people will listen. You talk about your own life, your major and your mentors and the friends you’ve made, and it’s then that you realize it-

“We really did make it,” you tell her, a little wondrously. “Without each other.” 

Nayeon’s curled up to your side, on your couch. Something’s playing on the TV that she keeps laughing at, her whole face scrunching with delight. She looks at you sideways, says, “You didn’t think we would.” 

It’s not a question, and you know because now she’s playing with the cuff of your shirt, bottom lip tucked into her mouth thoughtfully. Codependent - everyone said you were. You had a lot of skeptics, looking at the two of you, people disbelieving that either of you would even survive after Nayeon left. 

“I wasn’t sure if we would, either,” she says, quietly. 

Her life’s all in lights, in every magazine, spread across all the websites; yours is the opposite, but she listens to all your stories anyway - she gets the gist. You’re happy, too. You’ve worked hard to get where you are and it’s all you could’ve ever asked for. You and Nayeon have got success in completely different places, but you’ve got it anyway: you’ve found it all on your own. 

“But we did,” says Nayeon, after a beat. There’s a joke on the television that she grins at, wrapped up in your arms. She’s leaving in a few days, a bomb waiting to go off. There’s an implication in this, something she’s not telling you but you understand anyway. “We did make it.” 

We did make it, she’s saying. We can make it again, you and me. You with me, even if we’re worlds apart. 

Your thumb skims her cheek, slips into her hair. Nayeon looks over at you, then says, “Give me your phone.” 

You twist so she can slip it out of your back pocket - she knows your passcode, knows every facet of your life down to the letter. “Nayeon?” you ask, a little puzzled, as her nails click across your screen, the top of her head bumping your chin. “Are you…” 

“Shh,” she says, mildly, then without warning, she’s on the camera, flipping the phone to take a picture of the two of you. You raise your eyebrows, intrigued; she’s falling back on her idol training, a peace sign and her tongue poking out from the corner of her mouth. “There,” she says, after, tapping once and then handing the phone back, a new, decisive set to her lips. “That’s my number. My real number.” 

Your gaze drops to the phone screen - there it is, her number and her name and the picture she’d taken sitting as the contact photo - and when you glance back, Nayeon’s observing your face, checking for your reaction: if you’re in this just as much as she is. If you’re serious - if you’re really going to do this. If you get what’s going to come next and if you’re ready for it. 

“I can call you on this?” you ask, slightly struck. 

Nayeon scoffs, eyes sparkling, shoulder pressed to yours. “Uh - yeah, genius, that’s kind of the point.” 

You’re smiling too wide. “So…” 

“So if you leak my phone number, my company’s gonna sue you for everything you’re worth,” Nayeon says, haughtily, rapping her knuckles against your thigh. She’s severing the sentimentality of the moment, covering it up with humor. You get it - it’s a way out, an exit route. You know what she means by this even if she’s not saying it out loud. 

“Okay,” you murmur, and kiss her temple. Nayeon’s nose scrunches up, pleased. There’s another one-liner on the show you’re watching, and this time it makes you both laugh, Nayeon hiding her giggles in the back of her hand. You’d think it’d be the point where the moment snaps shut, but instead it’s spreading, encompassing - like in a few days, she’ll be on the next flight back to the place she calls home, and you’ll still be able to feel her next to you, music in her laugh, forever wound in the curve of her smile. 

She’s leaving, already. Her number’s in your phone, her heart’s in your hands. She’s leaving, but for once, maybe it doesn’t mean that anything has to end. 

-

There are two days left, so you’re taking all the chances you can get. Sure, there’s catching up on shows, gossip; there’s her in your room, telling you things that probably break NDAs - from the outside looking in, you’d never guess that she’s at this ungodly level of fame and that you two haven’t talked in seven years. It’s all so normal, so relaxed, so cute. 

Well - okay, most of it is cute. As long as you’re overlooking all the-

“You know, if you get any louder, we’re gonna get caught.” 

Your week’s almost up, and you’ve got all your extended family filling your house, so you’ve found your escape the only way you can: in the backyard, your cock tapping against Nayeon’s pouty lips, the both of you drenched in shadow. And - true to form - she’s being a fucking menace about the blowjob that she’s barely giving you. 

Everything’s pared down to the tactile, the physical; her hair’s back in two braids that you’ll tug, she’s testing your patience. You glare down at her - her fingers wrap around your cock just to release it. “And who’s fault would that be?” 

Nayeon’s tongue darts out to lap at the head of your cock, flicking fast, eyes trained on you, watching as you struggle to keep it together, struggle not to wrap your hand in her hair and bury your dick inside her throat. She’s a tease like it’s her job - because if you think about it, it kind of is. There’s that intoxicating, cunning glint in her eye: she could do this all day.

“You’re fucking evil,” you manage, voice strained. 

Like you said, Nayeon’s always had that ego - all the fame’s only stoked the fire. “Sorry?” she murmurs, blinking pointedly up at you, breath hot on your cock, torturous. “I can leave right now, if you wanted to take care of this all by yourself.”

“Fuck you.” 

“You’re not gonna get to if you keep talking to me like that.”

Oh, that’s a threat with absolutely zero weight behind it, but you already know it. A split second after you cum in her mouth - she’s still wiping semen off her chin, cheeks puffing out trying to swallow it all - you’ve got her up against you, your hand down the front of her sweatpants, her pussy already dripping wet, getting her right to the edge of her orgasm like it’s nothing. 

“Look at you,” you say, vicious like a risk just begging to be taken; you know exactly what she wants and how to give it to her. “Now who’s being loud?” 

Nayeon tries to roll her eyes only to get caught on a climax, instead. Ah, well: it’s one way for you to call it even. 

-

“I’d kiss you,” she tells you, after, “but some guy just came in my mouth five minutes ago.” 

“Shut the fuck up,” you say, unnecessarily - you’ll make her, instead. 

-

Your time’s almost up. She wakes up in your bed on the very last day, hickeys spanning her neck, her tits, her thighs. You run your fingers along them and wonder how the two of you are ever going to get away with this. “What’s your company going to say about this?” 

Nayeon laughs, soft in the morning, sun-soaked and ethereal. “Contrary to popular belief,” she says - she’s built her living around playing coy, showing just enough to tantalize, baring what’ll draw allure and nothing more - “it’s not my company’s job to keep me out of trouble.” 

“No?” 

“Nope.” There’s that gorgeous face, those eyes trapping stars, captivating anyone who even comes close. “It’s to keep everyone from finding out about it.” 

“Oh," you say, grinning. "Is that right?” 

“Yep.” When Nayeon kisses you, it’s like a promise she’s making, an oath she’ll make and swear on. “Believe me,” she says, and smiles just to sign on the dotted line. “I can get into all the trouble that I want.” 

-

You stay in for old times’ sake, enjoy no one’s company but each other’s - wrapped in your duvet, Nayeon half in your lap - except instead of talking about shitty classes and dramas and movies you’re planning on watching together, Nayeon’s tilting her phone towards you, letting you flick through unreleased photos for her new comeback. “Perks of fucking me,” she tells you crassly, conversationally, like that’s all it is - the fond curl of her mouth betrays her. “You get all the sneak peeks.” 

“I’m getting more than a peek,” you say, struck dumb by a series of photos of Nayeon in this sinfully tight, abominably short pink bodysuit, monogrammed with red. It’s fucked up, so you’ll say it out loud. “Jesus, this outfit.” 

Nayeon taps the screen excitedly, nails clicking; it’s beyond adorable how excited she gets about it all, about the music and the aesthetics and the clothes and the choreography - it’s one thing to see her on-screen, and it’s another entirely to see all the passion in person, all the effort. It’s times like this where you understand it all perfectly: if there’s anything in the world she was made for, it’s this. “Right? It was made from this Louis Vuitton towel just for me to wear it - insane, no?” 

“Yeah,” you say, gawking at the photos of her with those mouthwatering thighs all on display, the buttons popped at the collar. She’d said red was her color - and it is, but it’s Nayeon, and every color looks like it was created for her. “It’s fucked up.” 

“That it’s made out of a towel? I actually thought it was ingenious.” 

You take a look at her expression - there’s that mischief in her eyes, a dead giveaway. “Obviously not that,” you say, then amend, humoring her, “well, that’s cool, too. You’re right. A towel - ingenious.” 

“Totally.” 

You clip her on the hip, making Nayeon gasp, go to pinch you on the shoulder. “No,” you correct, dodging, “the fucked up thing is how hot you are.” 

Nayeon’s in one of your t-shirts and her own underwear and nothing else, her neck so marked up that anyone would think she’d gotten mauled, her blonde hair disheveled from sleep and tumbling over her shoulders. You’ve never once had a filter around each other - never had any room for embarrassment or shame, between the two of you.

“You and that flattery,” says Nayeon, her teeth gleaming in her grin. 

“Uh-huh.” You press the phone back in her hand, lift your eyebrows in a provocation. “Where’s it getting me?” 

Nayeon clicks it off, tilts her head like she’s studying you. You’ll take all your last risks before you wrap it up. “Where do you wanna go?”

-

You bring it back to the start. You end up on the beach, the two of you curled up on a towel, another one around both your shoulders, staring out at the waves: there's the moonlight overhead, everything hazy like you’re living in a dream. 

It’s freezing, so you won’t touch the water. Nayeon’s head is on your shoulder, and neither of you want to snap the silence, but you will, anyway. It’s a night for confessions - there’s the moon, listening; the waves, all salt and seafoam, thinning out to reach the sand. Nayeon whispers, like she’s afraid someone will hear her, “I’m gonna miss this.” 

Your hand is slipped under her cardigan, thumb notched under the strap of her tank top - sometimes it’s like you’d just die if you weren’t touching her. Her fist’s at the hem of your shirt, nails brushing your abdomen; you know she’s always felt the same way. 

“I know,” you say, and there’s no one else to hear it, but for once Nayeon’s right here, and it’s enough, and she doesn’t need an audience to prove it. “Me too.” 

-

There’s a presence to this kind of intimacy, how it blooms, how it settles. It’s freezing, so you’ll pull her body into yours - there’s the wind, there’s the risk of being caught, nipping at all her smooth skin - and there’s never been any sex like this, for either of you. It’s more than just feral, more than just fucking: Nayeon moans your name, lets her back arch like she has no control over her body, lets her cunt clench tight around your cock like the only thing she has control over is you. 

“Please,” she whimpers, the swirling winter air stealing the words right out from her lungs. “Please - please fuck me, please cum in me, I need to feel your cum - filling me up, wanna feel it leaking out of me - please.” 

The beach is empty, but you’d fuck her the same way in front of rooms full of people, of watchful, prying eyes. It's all meant to be secret, something between the two of you and no one else - you'll keep it as long as you have her, safe somewhere in your chest, spread between your fingers. When she falls back to flashing cameras and adoring fans, she’ll play like she’s up for grabs, but she isn’t: she’s yours, in every way. She’s yours, always.

“I’m yours,” Nayeon breathes into your neck, pliable and needy underneath you, every part of her body reaching for you as if you’re her first and only instinct. “Yours, yours.”

Please don’t forget, her eyes beg you. Please love me like this forever. 

Your fingers wrap around the pale column of her throat - you’ll steal her words this time around, make her eyelids shutter and her eyebrows draw together, panting; she’s slicker than the ocean around you, thighs salty with sweat, cum - and when you squeeze, Nayeon falls apart. 

She’ll be gone tomorrow. She’ll be gone, and there’s no telling when she’s coming back. 

“Baby,” you exhale, dipping to kiss her, shuddering as your orgasm builds like it’s something to break. You can’t even fuck her without throwing your feelings right at her feet; can’t have her neck in your hand without having her heart, too. There’s no separating the sex and the sentiment. She’s your best friend, she’s the love of your life; you’ll never have one without the other. “Always.”

Forever, you tell her, in your lips on hers, in her nails scoring welts down your back. Years in the making, and it all culminates here. I’ll love you forever. 

Nayeon’s whining and writhing and gasping for air by the time you cum inside her, and the moment you let up on her throat she’s rising to kiss you again. There’s so much, between the two of you - there’s the ocean, threatening to drown, consume; there’s fame, alive in every shimmering skyline - and then there’s her number sitting in your phone, a years-long yearning waiting to become something more. The stars are overhead, aligning. The moon’s winking at you, turning all the tides. 

You kiss her one more time, and say, “Let’s go home.” 

-

It’s the middle of the night, and you’re back in your bed together, thumbing her ribs like you’re counting lifelines, following the curve of her waist like you’re cartographing all the places you’ve already been. You’ll be back, someday. You’ll trace her bare wrist, follow the pathways of her veins right on home. 

“You know I always loved you, right?” Nayeon asks, voice soft, close. 

It’s not the time for insecurity, for mincing words, for purposeful ignorance. “Yeah.” 

“You know I still do, then.” Nayeon lifts her head, irises glinting with unshed tears, her blonde hair a mess over her forehead. Fame turned a girl into a god, and she came back to you anyway. She’ll do it again, in time. “Don’t you?” 

“Nayeon.” 

“Yeah?”

“Yes,” you say, heart high in your throat. “I know. I always knew. I love you, too.” 

There’s too much emotion in the room for words, and Nayeon finds your mouth in the dark like she’s been doing it her whole life. You’ve said so much already. You’ll crack open every window, let the air in; you’ll crack your chest apart, and let your love breathe. 

-

The morning comes, and it’s time for a return to form - you’ve got lives to live, both of you. Responsibilities, obligations. There’s something in the sunrise, like it’s calling her back; the limelight won’t know how to survive without Im Nayeon sparkling under it. She can’t stay. She never could. 

“It’s been fun, I guess,” says Nayeon flippantly, defaulting to stupid humor; if she doesn’t make you both laugh, then you’ll both crumble. 

“Shut up,” you say, thickly, as she takes your hand, drags you out of bed. Her eyes are glassy, her fingers laced with yours like she’s scared to let go. “You’re such a dumbass.” 

You lean in to kiss the crown of her head. There’s a twist to Nayeon’s mouth, tender - and you know that even when she does let your hand go, you’re still going to be hers and hers alone.

-

Well, you know what they say about distance, absence: it’ll all make the heart grow fonder. It’d been true, before. Maybe it can be true again. 

“What an optimistic take,” says Nayeon, dryly, and her bottom lip’s already trembling, breathing already uneven as she tries to choke back tears. You’re out on the sidewalk again, and it’s all circling back, cyclical; she’s in your arms, and you’re both right where you started. “I agree completely. Seven years wasn’t enough. I need to get away from you, stat.” 

It’s so her, making dumb jokes just so she doesn’t sob herself to pieces. Her hair’s spilling over her shoulders, golden; her stunning eyes are locked on yours, one hand pressed to the side of your neck, thumb finding your jaw. There’s a car waiting, her luggage packed up and put away; it’s gonna hurt, and you already know it. Nayeon’s shoulders are high like she’s preparing herself for some physical ache, the moment she steps away - she’s putting up her fronts, but they’re all slipping. She’s putting up a good fight and it’s already lost. 

“I love you,” you say, emotion twining up your throat, and it’s enough to cleave her façade in two. 

“Fuck,” Nayeon manages, and lifts her wrist over her mouth, expression collapsing in on itself. “I know. I love you. I’m - I’m so sorry-”

“Hey, hey-” 

You go to everything you’ve ever learned, all the ways to ground Nayeon again before she floats away: there’s her face in your hands, and you’re looking right at her, firm so she can see how serious you are. “Hey,” you say, trying to soothe her even as your own heart threatens to constrict, shut off; she’s more important. She always has been. “You don’t need to be sorry, okay? You didn’t do anything wrong. This is just - it’s just how it is. We both know that.” 

It’s been seven years: you and Nayeon, and it’s the oldest story ever told. It’s no one’s fault - not hers, for everything she’s accomplished; not yours, for not begging her to stay. 

(See, she’s got the whole world waiting with bated breath, clamoring to get a glimpse of her. She’s got her whole life at her fingertips, ready for her to reclaim her titles. You’d never, ever hold her back.)

“Yeah,” chokes out Nayeon, visibly distraught, eyes wide and watery, “but, like - it still fucking sucks.” 

It’s not the place, or the time - you’re both fracturing at every place that’s already been broken, over and over - but she says this, and it’s such a crass, blunt, stupid way to sum it all up. You can’t help it. She says it, and before you know it, you’re both dying laughing. 

Nayeon’s leaning into you, breaths caught on giggles, on sobs - laughing like it’s all okay, laughing like she’s not leaving - and her fingers are gripping your elbows, her face crinkling up, that brilliant grin even through her tears. “Nayeon,” you get out, and your adoration strikes a match through your bloodstream, forest-fire flames licking, demolishing. That’s your girl: so gorgeous no one else exists. “Nayeon.” 

She’s laughing, and free, and wonderful, and in that one stunning moment, you feel it: you know you're both going to be okay.

“Like, this is stupid.” Nayeon’s still on her tirade, her palm slapping your forearm vigorously, pitch picking up. You can’t stop smiling, can’t stop the tears building; you’ve never loved anyone more, and never will. “We’re in love and all that shit. We’ve always been in love. Why - I just - I feel like we never have enough time.” 

“Nayeon,” you say, for the third time, and finally her focus tunnels completely and only on you. 

“What?” 

“We’ll be alright,” you say, and press your lips to her forehead so she knows you mean it. “We have all the time in the world.” 

-

She kisses you, one last time. It’s a prospect, or that oath she’ll swear to keep, coming back around. She’s in your arms, chin tipped up at you, and there are doors you’ll throw wide open, hurdles to get over. It’s not going to be easy, this kind of love, this kind of distance, but you’ll make it work. You’ll love each other, and it’ll work. 

Nayeon’s smiling up at you, heavy-hearted, hopeful, eyes glittering like constellations. “Promise me something.” 

Anything, you think of saying. Anything you want and I’ll do it. “Okay.” 

“Call me.” Her hands are in yours - there’s the sun, overhead, and it can’t even hope to compete with her. “If I can’t answer, leave me voicemails. Text me. Tell me everything, even the dumb shit.” There’s that pain building in her voice, half-strangling her - you tap the inside of her wrist, mind her pulse points. You’ll listen like everyone does. “I’m going to miss so much of your life, but - make me feel like I won’t, okay? Make me feel like I’m there.” 

“I promise,” you say, softly. 

Nayeon sinks into your arms, breath catching, stumbling. You bury your face in her hair and wonder if you can memorialize a second in time like this one, weave it into your soul, lock it up in your ribcage; if there’s a way to take this feeling and make it physical - if there's a way to cup it between your palms and make it forever.

“One more,” whispers Nayeon, into your neck. “Make me one more promise.”

“Anything,” you tell her, out loud - there’s not a thing you’d ever hide from her. 

“Promise you’ll remember that I’ll come back to you.” 

It's an exhale, a pause to take a breath. It’s not even a question. Your pinky finds hers, coils them together. “I promise,” you say, and you feel her smile against your skin. 

Whatever thread’s always been between you two knots, and tightens, encased in steel - you’ll feel it even miles away, whatever’s tying her to you, tugging at your heart, linking your fingers. You’ll feel her, even if it takes years; oh, it’s Nayeon, and there’s nothing you won’t do. You’ll have faith. You’ll keep your arms open, ready for her to come running home. She’ll love you from worlds away, and you know she always will. 

(I promise, you say, and you know you’re gonna make it.)

-

Her car leaves, peeling off the asphalt, taking her back to a universe that adores her, worships her, would do anything to possess her and make her theirs. You could stand on the sidewalk forever, unmoving. You could let your own life disintegrate into nothing. You could cry, and scream, and curse out every deity you can think of, damn everything pulling you two apart down to hell.

Instead, you call her.

"Oh, shit," Nayeon says, on the other line, forgoing any greeting. "I just left three seconds ago. If you can't even handle that, this relationship is totally fucked."

You can still hear the remnants of tears in her voice, the ghost of watery laughter. A phone call can't hide a thing - not from you. "I love you."

A sigh, a huff, a put-upon irritation that's seconds from cracking wide open. "You're so clingy. How are you gonna survive on just phone sex until you see me again?"

"Nayeon," you say, grinning.

"I love you," she says, with all the unabashed endearment in the world, and just like all her songs, you swear it's a melody sweet enough to break records. "I'll see you soon."

You smile up at the open sky, and you know that you will.

-

stream IM NAYEON <3

[silverdelirium]

STICKY WASHING MACHINE | D.M

summary: draco fucks scorpius’ nanny on the laundry room

warnings: breeding kink, rough sex.

———

“so do you accept?” asked draco to the girl who only stared at him with mouth slightly agape. “i-i mean i guess” she replied, not meeting his eyes.

“see you on monday then” nodded draco and turned on his heel, walking away.

y/n really didn’t know how they ended up on the topic of her being draco malfoy’s son’s nanny. it really wasn’t much work, a three year old baby just needed attention, food and sleep. but still, me out of all people? she thought, why did i even agree?

but here she was, beaming at the sight of scorpius’ new drawing which consisted on draco’s exaggerated tall figure, y/n and scorp. she sometimes felt bad that astoria was never in the picture, in every sense. she had left draco after scorpius turned 3 months old and never came back, draco explained this when they first reencountered, apparently it never really affected him. considering it was an arranged marriage.

“wow baby this is so good, i bet you’re gonna be an artist some day!” you exclaimed at him. he giggled and turned pink but a loud yawn cut his smile off. “i think it’s time for your nap, come on” she said, standing up and dusting off her skirt, scorpius holding up his arms.

y/n settled scorpius on bed and he was asleep in seconds, she chuckled and just snuggled the blanket closer to him. her eye caught a peek of scorpius’ laundry basket. sure, she was just a nanny that was supposed to take care of the child and that was it, the clothes were the elf’s work. but scorpius was terrified of them so draco took care of his clothes, y/n decided to just take his clothes to the laundry room and throw them inside the washing machine.

as y/n made her way to the laundry room, draco came through the fireplace that was at the whole other wing of the manor, making y/n unconscious of his presence.

draco gave a big sigh and immediately entered the kitchen for a glass of wine, opening up the cabinet that had one of the bottles opened already, courtesy of draco’s previous stress.

he knew scorpius must be asleep, taking notice of the silence that resonated through the manor’s atmosphere. in his midst of thinking, a few drops spilled from the rim his cup when he inclined it too harshly, making them spill on his white shirt. draco gave a groan at this and threw his head back.

narcissa always told draco that it was better to immediately wash clothing items if he ever spilled something on them. so he grumpily made his way to the laundry room.

as he got closer he could hear shuffling of clothes and a low humming, eventually stopping at the doorway to catch sight of y/n bent over, placing small clothing items into the washing machine. he went wide eyed at the peak he caught of her lace pink panties, cunt perfectly outlined.

draco was frustrated, sexually more than ever. he always found y/n hot, even in hogwarts, he remembers having a huge crush on her during fourth and fifth year, but they never really talked except for the polite hello’s and brief conversation when they were partnered in class.

right now, all the past emotions were coming back. and he wanted nothing more than to fuck her like he never did to a woman before. for hours and hours until she turned into nothing but a blabbering mess.

y/n eventually straightened up and went to pick more clothes, but she was met with a paralized draco on the doorframe.

“oh- hello draco, i didn’t know you were back” she saluted politely, going back to scorpius small basket that was placed on top of the dryer.

draco was snapped out of his trance at her voice, he swallowed hard before responding, “evening, just came to- uh put this in the washing machine” he gestured to his shirt, making her look at his chest but eventually trailing down to his very apparent bulge.

he saw how her eyes went wide but she said nothing and just gulped and nodded, gaze not meeting his.

the laundry room really wasn’t that big, making it hard for draco to pass y/n to go to the washing machine that was placed next to the dryer. but he still came in contact with her. his clothed cock pressing perfectly into her ass, a small gasp escaping her while draco grunted at the friction.

they both stilled.

y/n was the first to turn around, groin now pressing into her front, he was breathing heavily. and like magnets they connected together, tongues exploring each other’s mouth. draco’s hands rubbing her ass, down until the back of her thighs were in his large hands. he tapped them lightly, signaling her to jump, which she obliged instantly and jumped, draco hoisting her onto the washing machine.

he disconnected their lips to travel down to her neck, a small whine escaping her when he found her sweet spot. draco absolutely devouring the skin and littering it with purple hickeys. he eventually pulled away to take a good look at his little piece of art.

y/n brought him back into a heated kiss while unbuttoning his shirt, his own hands finding way to the hem of hers. once he shrugged off his shirt he helped her pull hers off, throwing it onto the floor. he pulled away from the kiss once again to look at her soft mounds that sat perfectly in a bra, he groaned at the sight as his cock twitched on his trousers.

“can i take this off sweet thing?” he asked, tone low as he hooked a finger on the bra strap.

y/n eagerly nodded, draco wasting no time and unclasping the bra in a quick motion, disregarding it to the side, mouth immediately attaching to her nipple while his hand toyed with the other. she gave a moan at this breathing heavily and leaning back on her palms, panties soaked and pussy throbbing.

draco kissed his way down to her stomach, dragging her skirt down until it hit the floor. he stepped back and admired with pure mesmerization at y/n’s form, tits with perked up nipples, dampened panties and breathing hard. “look at my pretty princess” he said, unbuckling his belt and lowering his pants low enough so his dick popped out.

she went wide eyed for the second time that evening at his size. draco was much bigger than anyone she had ever been with and he was just a very big person in general, she wasn’t sure she could take him all.

draco stroked his cock up and down slowly, tip red and leaking with pre-cum. he got closer to her and moved her panties to the side, eyes glinting when he saw her bare cunt, dripping.

“so wet baby” he said as he passed two fingers over her folds, y/n shuddering while he brought them up to his mouth and hummed at the taste, watching her face heat up.

“taste so good too” he growled, inching his face closer to her and leaning their foreheads together while his fingers plummeted themselves slowly into her, a loud moan escaping her lips.

he started moving them at a slow pace, almost torturous. watching intently as she released small whimpers and moans, his cock twitching every now and then.

he started scissoring his fingers inside of her, going faster. “ah! yes draco right there” she moaned out when he curled his fingers, touching that spongy spot inside her. “yeah? think you can take my cock now?” he questioned.

“yes” she replied quickly, pussy clenching at the thought of having him inside her, finally.

he seemed to notice this and chuckled, removing his fingers and dragging them to his cock once again, coating it with her juices. he guided it to her entrance and drenched the tip with her arousal, making y/n buck her hips up and whine.

“sh sh sh, now be patient little girl” he warned, fingers lightly tapping her clit, making her jolt and quickly shut up as she waited in anticipation.

draco entered y/n slowly with a groan, a strangled moan leaving her throat. he let her adjust to his size for a few moments before starting out on a decently fast pace, making her throw your head back and release several moans the faster he went, breasts bouncing everywhere, much to draco’s delight.

he settled for a brutal pace that had the washing machine shaking, watching her eyes go crisscross when he reaches to rub her clit.

“fuck baby look at this pretty pussy squeezing me, so fucking tight” he groaned, looking down at her juices dripping out, thighs glistening. “you have no idea how many times i’ve dreamt about this” he said, voice strained. she hummed in pleasure as she wrapped her arms around his neck and brought him down to another steamy kiss, he greedily ate every moan she made, her legs starting to tremble.

“fuck baby im close” he said when she pulled away for breath. “me too!” she replied, his thumb assaulting her clit harsher.

“yeah? gonna cum all over me? and then let me put my fucking cum inside you until your fucking pregnant?” he teased, moving his hands to grip her ass, y/n gave a loud moan in response and rapidly nodded, orgasm right at its peak. “fuckfuckfuck yes draco!” she screamed as she came, legs completely shaking and letting that coil snap while he fucked her faster, riding out her high while chasing his.

“shit, gonna cum so hard inside you and give you my kids princess” he groaned, his thrust sloppy when his orgasm hit him, releasing a loud moan as he came.

after they both calmed down from their highs he sighed in pleasure and looked down to her puffy cunt, he pulled out slowly and watched as her pussy spurted out both cums. he collected some on his fingers and held them up to y/n.

she opened her mouth and kept eye contact as she sucked on them, humming at the taste like he had done previously, making his once soft cock perk up immediately. she was gonna be the death of him.

she giggled at his reaction and got off the, now sticky washing machine due to their arousal on it, leaning her top half over it and arching her back. draco’s mouth agape at the view.

“round 2?” she taunted.

but right as draco was about to fuck her into tomorrow, a small paddle of feet could be heard in the distance with a faint “daddy? y/n?”.

———

part two

🏷: @spencervera @methblinds @marrymetheonott @adrianscumslut @wh0re4blaise @turn-to-page-394-please @fredshufflepuff @malfoysbiitch @saggyb1lls @helleli @metaraxia @daddybutmakeitagirl @dracomalfoys-wh0re @dlmmdl @fleursbabe @riddleswh0r3crux @lolooo22 @darlingmalfoy @littlemissnoname13 @i-love-scott-mccall @underappreciated-spoon-321 @steveharringtonswhore @dracosafety

[cherriesfineline]

savior next door

im on a writing trance so expect a lot of writings from me hehe, here's what i wrote last night, enjoy besties.

- fluff & a tiny little bit of smut (not really lol) | not proofread, sorry

Pairing: HarryxY/N

WC: 3.8k

the one where Harry is Y/N's shy and virgin neighbor.

The constant feeling of uneasiness has been haunting Harry ever since he almost got himself in a car accident almost a year ago.

It hadn’t been his fault – he was crossing a random street in a quiet area of New York when a hand grabbed his upper arm and pushed him out of the crosswalk, where a car speeded through without even slowing down. “Watch where you’re going, you’re going to get yourself killed.” The woman who’d saved his life scolded at him with a worrying look on her face. He remembers her eyes were glowing in such a splendor, something he’d never seen before – it intrigued him to know who his life savior was, but before he could even make a comment, the woman stormed off and got lost between the seas of people around the corner, leaving Harry in an unsuccessful search for her.

Harry has never been a people person. He always avoids big crowds, social events and especially, study groups. His university journey so far has been a lonely and reserved one, having movie marathons when not studying or discovering new kinds of herbal teas. His only form of social interaction is the occasional chat with his across-the-hall neighbor Niall, whom he considered -kind of- a close friend; his only one, in fact.

“Heard someone’s moving in to the flat next to yours.” Niall knows Harry isn’t exactly a social butterfly, and maybe it’s the fact that Harry is younger than him and how he seems like such a harmless human what makes him feel like he needs to help him. Harry just shrugs at his comment, not really interested in any possible intruder to their peaceful hallway (where both their apartments and the currently empty one in the corner were the only three ones on their floor). And maybe it was the fact that it has been almost a month since Niall’s comment what made him furious when he saw the cardboard boxes on their hallway, forgetting about the possibility of having a new neighbor.

The sudden sound of glass crashing and a loud yell snaps Harry out of his frustrated trance, stepping around the huge boxes scattered around the door next to his to knock on the doorway of the open door. Even if he really isn’t very fond of having a new neighbor that doesn’t mean he’s not going to check on them to see if they’ve gotten hurt. “Is everything alright?” He still can’t see whoever is inside, but he decides on waiting if no one replies to step inside. But he doesn’t need to, because as he was about to make his way inside, a head pops up from one side of the entry hallway, assuming that’s where the kitchen is, as he notices the apartment is a replica of his own, but inverted.

“Hey, sorry, just dropped my favorite cup.” His breath gets caught on his throat when her life savior’s face appears in sight, the cutest frown adorning her features and her sweet voice resonating through his brain. Her eyes, exactly like he remembers shine with an unbeatable glow, like a thousand diamonds under a microscope, but the image he had of her on his brain doesn’t make her justice – she is even more beautiful than he remembers. “I’m Y/N, nice to meet you. You live in this floor?” Harry can’t help but be disappointed at the fact that apparently she doesn’t remember him.

“Y-yes, next door. H-harry.” He stutters. Her presence just makes him so nervous, he can’t help it. She is probably one of, if not the, most beautiful woman he’s ever laid eyes on. Her eyes are hypnotizing, the softness of them which appears to be constant warms his insides and he thinks he could spend hours upon hours staring right at them.

“Do I know you? I feel like I know you.” Y/N’s thinks out loud, her expression alluding to her thoughts trying to place him somewhere in her memories.

“Uh, I- I don’t think so?” Harry feels embarrassed, so he couldn’t come up with a better answer. He is silently hoping she doesn’t remember the time they met all that time ago – this is his chance, he thinks, to redeem himself, for her to see him as a normal dude instead of this clumsy and shy boy who couldn’t even thank her when she saved him from being ran over by a car.

He wishes he could read her mind. What’s her first impression on him? Does she think he’s cute? She probably doesn’t. He thinks she’s too pretty to even spare a second glance at someone like him; a shy boy with bad posture and still breaking out in his forehead despite being 22. And she, Y/N, a woman who could make anyone her own, a woman who probably makes every head turn her way when entering a room. Harry feels his chest deflate as his thoughts start beating him up.

During the course of her first two months living next door, Y/N and Harry barely interact. He keeps stealing glances her way whenever they run into each other in the hallway, getting shy and cheeks reddening when she catches him every time. He gets jealous whenever he hears her walking down the hallway from inside his apartment, obvious guests coming in and out of her apartment – and if the person (because he recalls hearing both men and women) is good enough, he can even hear her sometimes through the thin wall that divides their bedrooms, her headboard clearly mirroring his. He feels dirty and intrusive during nights like these, so he opts on putting headphones on, music playing in his phone to help him drift off to sleep.

But Y/N is fascinated by him, maybe not as much as he is with her, but enough to wonder how it’d be like to reallyhave him in her life. She knows he’s a very reserved man, her animated chats with Niall more usual than not drift towards Harry and how she wishes he’d just keep looking at her when she catches his eye instead of running away – not because her ego is enormous or anything, but she is aware of the obvious crush Harry has on her. “He’s not going to start conversation, you should just go for it.” She remembers Niall told her one night after having a small chat in his threshold; because all Niall wants is for Harry to put himself out there, but he knows he needs a little extra push.

But it all changes one night. A night Y/N drinks more than usual – shot after shot going down her throat making her feel nothing but dizzy, the sensation of puke going up her throat forcing her to call it a night. Barely making it out of the elevator she stumbles on her way to her door, and Harry hears her. The sound her combat books make is so engraved in Harry’s brain he knows it’s her after just a couple of steps.

“Fuck.” Harry hears the unmistakable sound of her keys, and how she’s clearly struggling to fit them inside the lock. After a loud banging sound and what sounds like her sliding down the door, he starts worrying about her and how she’s probably not going to make it inside her apartment without a little help. So he steps outside after sliding his old white vans on to find her on the floor leaning against her door, legs bent and elbows resting on either knee supporting her head.

“Y/N?” He calls her in a whisper. She shoots her head up immediately making her insides turn, and with unfocused eyes, she looks up at him and smiles fondly.

“Hey, pretty boy.” She greets him with a soft smile, eyes closing and opening again slowly and Harry feels his stomach erupt in a thousand butterflies. Did she just call him pretty boy?

“You need help?”

“Please.” Harry’s red cheeks don’t go unnoticed by her the moment she lifts her hand to give him her keys and she honestly thinks he might explode. He helps her get up and guides her inside her home with such gentle movements she could melt in his hold, and that’s when she decides (drunk out of her mind) she wants him to hold her again, soon. And while sober.

He lays her down in her bed and announces he’s going to take her shoes off, giving her enough time to object. “I always catch you staring, you know?” Her thoughts slip off her lips unannounced, but she doesn’t really care. Harry, on the other hand, freezes in his spot, one of her shoes still in hand and with wide eyes he connects their gazes for the second time that night.

“I- I… I’m sorry- I don’t mean to be c-creepy or anything I j-just-“

“Shh.” She cuts him off, his stuttering making its first appearance of the night. “Didn’t say I don’t like it.” She confesses and wiggles her feet so he can resume his actions. Harry’s brain is betraying him more than usual right now. His thoughts are everywhere, not a single coherent answer coming to mind, so he doesn’t do anything but finish helping her out of her shoes in silence.

“Goodn-night, Y/N.” Harry left her apartment that night after carefully placing a soft blanket over her body and making sure she had a glass of water on her nightstand (he didn’t want to snoop around her apartment for some pills for her hangover, so he just left her with the duty of doing that herself in the morning) and laid in bed with so many thoughts running through his head he barely got an hour of sleep that night.

And that went on for a week. Knowing she was sleeping on the other side of the wall makes him more nervous than before now that he knows Y/N is aware of his constant staring – but who would blame him? She really is a sight for sore eyes. Y/N knocks on his door the following Saturday, and he opens it surprised to find her on the other side, mainly because she’s usually out with her friends by now every Saturday (not that he’s constantly waiting to hear her walk on their hallway, but he truly is always sitting on his living room and the thin walls of their apartment complex don’t provide them much privacy).

“Harry, hi.” She offers him the sweetest smile, but there’s a shy and nervous undertone to it this time. “I just wanted to thank you, for helping me the other night.” She clasps her hands together in front of her and nods with a tight lipped smile. “But I also want to apologize, I know I probably made you uncomfortable with uh, some comments I made.” She slightly scrunches her nose, waiting for his reply.

But Harry is, in simple words, speechless. He can’t believe there’s a sober Y/N who just knocked on his door willingly talking to him. Her voice sounds so melodic and Harry just wants to cuddle her and the giant, soft looking green sweater she’s wearing isn’t helping him ease his thoughts. He wants Y/N to hold him while she talks to him with that sweet voice of hers, he wants to hold her small hands and fill her cheeks and mouth with kisses along with every inch of her body -not that she’d ever let him, Harry thought, but a boy can dream-, but most importantly, he wants to learn every single detail about her. How she likes her coffee in the mornings, or if she prefers tea. In which position she sleeps the most comfortable in and if there’s any TV shows she re-watches just because it brings her comfort. He has so many questions he wants to ask her he completely forgets they’d been standing in his threshold for long minutes, with him just staring at her.

“It’s ok, don’t worry.” He says barely above a whisper, and they stay in their positions for a while, again with no words spoken between them, until he finally gains enough courage to ask, “Do you want to come in?” He opens his door a bit wider with a wary look on his face. Y/N nods, her smile widens and makes her eyes sparkle with that glow Harry is still fascinated by.

They sit in the couch with a long distance between them; farther away from the other than any of them like. Y/N does most of the talking, but she truly doesn’t mind – she talks animatedly about this new show Bridgerton she binge watched last night, Harry making mental notes about most things she says. He wants to remember everything, from the way her voice slightly sharpens when she mentions something she suddenly remembers to the way she moves her hands to accompany her speech; he already loves how expressive she is with her face features, and only confirms how he’d listen to her speak for the rest of his life.

Y/N manages to get more words out of him than she expected, and asks for his opinion or thoughts on most things she mentions. She hates making conversation purely about herself, she wants to know about Harry as much as she can. She wishes he would initiate conversation or switch topics with no shame, but she knows she’s asking for too much. This night alone they interacted more than the last three months combined, and Y/N is grateful for it.

Three chapters of FRIENDS had passed when she finds herself scooting a bit closer to him, carefully trying to read his body language. When he stiffens in his position, she turns her head to look at him. His cheeks are tinted a cute shade of pink, and he’s blinking a lot more than he usually does. He places both hands on his thighs and runs them up and down to get rid of the sweat accumulating on them, and he can’t help but gasp when their thighs touch, meaning she scooted even closer. As if that isn’t enough to kill him, she softly rests her head on his shoulder.

“Is this ok?” Y/N whispers, and he forces himself to turn his head to find her eyes, which are already looking up at him. He slowly nods and makes the dumb mistake of looking down at her lips. He feels the hot embarrassment run up his neck and quickly turns to face his TV again, planning on pretending nothing ever happened.

That is, until he feels the soft skin of her palm and gentle fingers grab his jaw, forcing his gaze back on her. That touch alone makes him feel more than any other human has made him feel in his entire life – but it doesn’t compare to the eruption of jitteriness washing through him when her eyes look down at his lips.

“Can I kiss you?” Harry freezes in his spot. He wonders if he heard her correctly, not believing his senses when around her, the possibility of her wanting to kiss him are too low, he thinks, and when he doesn’t respond, she slowly begins to remove her hand from his face, taking a guess on his unspoken rejection. He, for once, reacts quickly enough; he grabs her by her wrist, placing her hand back again in its spot on his jaw, and works enough courage to just go for it. Harry lowers his face to gently envelope her top lip between his own. It’s quick but sweet (just like she had expected their first kiss to be, if she’d ever got lucky enough to experience it) and when he moves away just enough to separate her lips, she wastes no time in connecting them again. This time, the kiss is longer and with more determination than before, and when Harry feels Y/N melt into him, he gains enough confidence to grab her face with both of his hands, deepening the kiss.

They stay enveloped in each other for a while, mouths molding and moving in sync with so many unspoken emotions it feels overwhelming for both – they barely know each other, they’re very aware of it, but the undeniable infatuation they both feel is stronger than they’d ever admit. Y/N feels on her face the long exhale that leaves through Harry’s nose when she softly traces his bottom lip with the tip of her tongue, and when he meets her tongue with his, the mood that was settled between them switches drastically – from sweet and innocent to needy and passionate.

Harry isn’t very experienced with kissing, let alone with anything past first base. He’d only made out with a girl all the way back in high school during his senior prom, and the girl was so harsh and desperate Harry knew that moment he wouldn’t ever share an intimate moment with anyone again unless he truly felt something for them. Now, he knows it might seem like he’s rushing things in his heart, but he’d do anything with and for Y/N – but he knows he’s not ready just yet.

His nervousness consumes him again when she moves to straddle his lap, making him whimper at the new position. He shakily places his hands next to her legs on the couch, not sure what is too much and what is ok to do. She runs her hands from his jaw down to his shoulders, and moves them all the way down his arms to his hands, giving them a soft squeeze before placing them on her waist and sliding her own back up again towards his neck, never breaking the kiss.

He unintentionally lets a second whimper leave his mouth when she sits herself down on his lap, creating some friction between their groins. He knows he’s hard – he felt his dick grow in his pants the second she touched his jaw, but knowing Y/N could feel it now put him a tad on edge. He separates their lips; their agitated breathing mixing in between them.

“I- I’ve never…” Harry begins, but he’s having a hard time finding the correct words. Y/N understands almost immediately – she’s not proud to admit she had figured he was unexperienced, feeding the stereotype of shy-ergo-virgin, even though she was correct this time.

“We won’t do anything you don’t want to,” Y/N gives him a soft peck and continues, “you can say no, but I’d love to make you feel good, if you’d let me. We can keep our clothes on.” Y/N suggests. If she has to be honest, she hasn’t dry-humped anyone since high school, but the thought of doing it with Harry lights her insides in animalistic flames.

When Harry timidly nods, she shakes her head with her eyebrows raised in a disapproving look, “Use your words, H.”

“I- I want you to- to do it. I- I trust you.” His stuttering makes Y/N’s insides warm, the fact that she makes him nervous amuses her – she’s certain she’s never made anyone this nervous before, but it is the fact that Harry admitted he trusts her what sends shivers down her spine. All she does in response is roll her hips against his – and when he closes his eyes with a pleasured groan leaving his lips, she does it again. Harry’s grip on her waist lowers to her hips, squeezing the flesh that was subtly beginning to get exposed from all the movement, and when he throws his head back Y/N takes advantage of his exposed neck to finally attach her lips to it. Her hold on one side of his face moves to grip his jaw, turning his head slightly to the side so she can suck on the sweet spot behind his ear still rolling her hips on his, and when she pokes the spot with her tongue to soothe the pleasuring sting, he unconsciously thrusts his hips up to meet hers; Y/N can’t help but smile and leave a trail of sweet, wet kisses from his new deepening bruise to the place where his neck meets his shoulders, repeating her actions there to leave a second bruise.

Harry feels his cock twitch in his pants when Y/N rolls her hips with more pressure, and they both know he’s close - his inexperience making him not last longer than a couple of minutes. “Are you going to cum for me?” Y/N asks him, holding his jaw tightly to keep his gaze on hers, and when he shyly nods she adds, “I want you to look at me when you do it.”

Harry can’t believe what’s going on – he has the most beautiful woman in the word on top of him about to make him cum, and he’s sure he’s going to come so hard he’ll probably have to throw his briefs into the trash. Her gaze staring so intensely into his eyes is what makes his insides finally explode, his eyes seeing white for a moment – with his mouth open ajar and glossy eyes he feels the large amount of cum spurting from his cock, making a mess inside his pants. The pleasure and fullness he feels during this moment is something he has never experienced before, never thinking he would surrender this fast over someone else’s actions. Y/N slows her movements but doesn’t stop for a while, allowing him to empty his insides until he hisses at the friction. Harry hugs her lower back to pull her closer to him, and Y/N lets her head drop to his shoulder so they can both catch their breaths.

They stay like that for a while, hugging each other with Y/N running her hand softly through his chocolate curls and Harry tracing small circles on the small of her back.

“You saved me from a car accident, a year or so ago.” Harry confesses – the pure bliss he’s feeling makes him dizzy and unaware of his words.

“I know. I remember.” Y/N confesses herself, and when Harry’s soft caresses stop at her back, she removes her head from the warm spot on his neck to look at him in the eyes, finding a confused frown in his eyebrows and lips in a small pout – she kisses him soft and quickly, not being able to contain herself. “I figured you either didn’t remember or didn’t bring it up for a reason, so I chose to not mention it.” She shudders and gives him a soft smile.

“Was embarrassed, still am.” Harry whispers with red cheeks, and Y/N’s laugh resonates through his living room, and if he wasn’t already obsessed with her, her laugh completes his way there.

“So cute.” She pecks his lips. “Can’t believe it took us this long to… talk.” Another peck. A knowing look on her face knowing damn well they did more than talking.

“You are too pretty. And intimidating. Can’t even walk in front of you without tripping over my own feet.” Y/N giggles at his confession, finding him even more amusing.

“Do you want to go on a date tomorrow?” Y/N asked, not being able to wait another day to ask. Harry feels his cheeks hurting from all the smiling, but he is too content in this moment.

“I’d love to.”

x

As always, feedback is truly appreciated,

love, Joey.