#it will feel like cheating if i actually play. so i will just finish my application i hope

[darkficsyouneveraskedfor]

Professional Indiscretion

Inspired by this post

Warnings: non/dubcon, degradation, demeaning behaviour, cheating, and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Character: Loki Laufeyson

Summary: a colleague returns from a recent vacation but is less than relaxed.

As usual, I would appreciate any and all feedback. I’m happy to once more go on this adventure with all of you! Thank you in advance for your comments and for reblogging ❤️

You’ve honed the skill of indifference long ago. The voices that carry from down the hall meld together in a dull buzz as you push them to the back of your mind. You’re less concerned with the latest water cooler gossip as your deadline bears down on you. 

You hate when a project comes down to the line. It couldn’t be helped. What should have been a two-person assignment was dropped solely in your lap. It isn’t the first time and won’t be the last. Your colleagues are less than reliable. 

As their voices glaze over each other, you shrug of your resent. They all have their obligations; golf rounds or the windfall of courtside tickets. You’ve never been afforded the luxury of a half-day to go play. You are the dependable one; as far as your coworkers are concerned, you have nothing going on besides picking up their slack. 

Work is work. You don’t linger on it; you just get it done. A peel of laughter jars you from your focus. You should close your door but that’s just an invitation. The last time, they simply moved in front of your door and spoke even louder. It’s like a game to them. 

Caroline’s bubbly laughter trills down the hall. She’s joined the rabble. One of the young temps the men love to flirt with. ‘Oh it makes me feel young again.’ Ugh, you couldn’t imagine turning the clock back twenty years. You’re happy that era of your life is over. 

You squint at the monitor and review your work. There’s a subtle tap on your doorframe. Your flicks up and back down. Loki. 

“Yes, how can I help you?” You ask as your fingers flutter over the keyboard. 

“Good afternoon to you too,” he drawls as he breaks the threshold. 

“Afternoon,” you continue to type. You try not to think of how this was meant to be his project. 

“I’m only doing my rounds. As you know, I was recently abroad and I brought back some sweets,” he crosses your office and sets a blurry object down in your peripheral. 

“That’s generous, I don’t have much of a sweet tooth.” You say. 

“You’re welcome,” he overrides your protest. 

You sniff, “thanks.” 

He’s quiet as he stands across from you. His gaze hangs over you like a dark cloud. You check the auto-save and retract your hands. You push your shoulders back and look at him. 

“You were the only who didn’t come out to congratulate me,” he muses. 

You sit straight. You are not unkind or inconsiderate. You just don’t come to work to socialize. You signed the card they sent with the flowers. 

“Congratulations on your wedding. It seems it was a success,” you say. 

He doesn’t react right away. He just stares at you. His green eyes are sharp and his lips a thin line. It isn’t the ego stroking he was looking for. You’re not quite sure what more to say. You’re not very familiar. 

He scoffs, “I see.” 

You blink, confused by the derision in his tone. You look at him past your monitor as he slowly pivots on his heel. It scuffs loudly and he marches to the door. He stops right before it then delicate grabs the handle and draws it shut. 

You tilt your head curiously, “I’m just finishing up a project, so I don’t have very much time--” 

“You’ve always been a dry old spinster, haven’t you?” He slithers as he faces you again. 

“Pardon?” You’re genuinely stunned by his accusation. It’s not the first time you’ve met with that sort of spite. There is a contempt reserved only for older women. 

“Yes, you strut around here as if you are a queen. Above us all, and I come to you with a token of good will, a souvenir from my honeymoon, and it only reminds you of how utterly pathetically alone you truly are,” he sneers. “So you offer me that trite look and your empty tiding.” 

You scrunch your lips in surprise and cup your hand in confusion, “nothing of the like. I’m sorry, I am rather busy with my work--” 

“Oh but this isn’t just today. It’s how it’s always been. You cannot be happy for anyone for your own misery,” he tuts. 

“If that’s what you think,” you sit back calmly. “I think you should go.” 

He lingers on the other side of your desk, “it’s because she’s young, I know it.” 

“What?” 

“My new wife. I see how it makes you bristle to know a man of your peerage couldn’t be bothered with you. You see, women age differently. They become bitter.” He snarls. 

“I hardly see how this is appropriate. I am asking you to go--” 

He sets his stance and lowers himself into the chair across from you. He smirks and pushes back his dark curls. Your spine locks up. That look in his eye, you’ve seen that in men before. 

“I know what the matter is,” he pushes his feet wide and grips his thighs. He postures so his shoulders are wide and high. “How long has it been?” 

You refuse to acknowledge his jeer. You shift to your monitor and go back to your editing. He clucks. 

“Months, years?” He suggests. 

“I’m busy,” you insist, keeping your eyes averted. 

“What the wife doesn’t know...” he growls. 

You flinch, appalled by his suggestion. 

“Leave,” you say. 

He snickers. “Are you so resigned to your feeble existence? Those lonely nights? In your condo, drinking your chardonnay, reclining on your chaise and reading the latest lascivious rag written for pruny old divorcees?” 

You freeze then slowly look at him. It could be a cruel assumption, though it isn’t untrue. In fact, it is far too accurate to be a coincidence. Down to the chaise and the chardonnay. 

“And that toy you keep in your jewelry box,” he curls a finger to mimic the curved shape. “Do you even feel it anymore?” 

“Get out,” you hiss. 

He smirks and arches a brow, “come.” 

He beckons with two fingers. You clutch the armrests of your chair and your nose flairs. You glare back at him, horrified. A newly married man and he’s here propositioning you. What’s more, he’s been watching you. 

“You’re disgusting--” 

“Get up,” he rubs his thigh. “And come here.” 

“HR--” 

“Oh, I know Bradon well. I will be happy enough to explain how you’ve grown so jealous of my young wife. You’re overworked so of course you couldn’t control yourself--” 

“He wouldn’t believe you--” 

“Wouldn’t he? We play squash on Sundays. He knows my character well. An upstanding member of the country club--” 

“Why are you doing this? What do you want me to say? Hm? Congratulations on your pretty young wife. Now, you should go home to her,” you snip. 

“I don’t want you to say anything,” he taunts as his eyes narrow snakishly. “I want you to come sit in my lap so I can show you how useless that toy truly is.” 

“You are--” 

“I am your villain,” he undercuts you. “And you have two choices. You can finish that project and submit it and have it tossed out for your indiscretions or you can do what I tell you and still have a job to support you wined-up erotica sessions.” 

You curl your lip, repulsed. There’s no point in asking why. Men do not operate on logic. 

“What’s it going to be?” 

You grit your teeth and take a deep breath. You push yourself to your feet and steady yourself. You move stiffly around the desk, eyes on the wall as you near him. As you get close, he grabs your hip and turn you. He forces you down so roughly that your ankles bend. 

You catch yourself on him, grabbing his hands as he grips you tight, and you writhe against his obvious arousal. A man like him can only get off on his own ego. You shudder and grasp his wrists. 

He pulls you back against his and rests his chin on your shoulder. You squirm as he untangles his arm from your hold. He hooks his arm around your stomach as his other tugs at your skirt. You huff and claw at his sleeves. 

“Alright, that’s enough, you’ve made your point--” 

He shoves his hand against your panties, pushing the satin between your folds. You gasp and twitch. You push your thighs together and crush his fingers. It only adds pressure. 

“You remember the day I started,” he turns to nuzzle your neck as he speaks, “and you had to make it known that you weren’t an assistant advisor, you were a senior.” He moves his fingers between the clutch of your tensed thighs. “That you were above me?” 

“No, I--” you gulp slap at his wrist. 

“Oh, and look at you now. Still above me, eh? Right there... on top of me,” he buries his hand against you and nips at your neck meanly. “You will be on your knees soon enough,” he flicks his fingers harshly and you spasm. “Right where you belong.” 

[arolesbianism]

Thinking abt my nuggets again. Explodes them.

[kimmkitsuragi]

dangling "you can play bg3 tonight if you finish your application" over my head but also not doing anything the whole day

[sturnsreckless]

𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐊𝐄𝐍 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐒,, m. sturniolo

summary: matt feels like you aren’t considering his feelings and not putting as much effort into your relationship as he is, so he brings it up to you which results in conflict but was quick to be resolved

cw: angst. crying, resolved angst, arguing

a/n: this is really long so for my angst lovers, enjoy

you and matt had never had an argument as big as this. yous had had small disagreements and quarrels, which were solved in minutes. never huge fights. never the way it is going on right now.

you both had been trying to juggle your lives also while trying to maintain a happy, healthy relationship. which isn’t easy. with that, you were both on the brink of breaking down any moment now. but instead of that, your emotions turned into a big fight. not a good one.

today, you weren’t working in the office and matt wasnt out filming with his brothers. he wasn’t in the best of moods right now, you were too in your head. the perfect cause of a disaster. throughout the whole day, small things kept on building and building until everything went down hill after dinner.

you had been washing you and matt’s dishes, he cleaning up all the other little things. when he had made a snarky comment about how good of a sight it was seeing you finally cleaning up, had made you snap.

you had been moaning about it for a good hour, screaming at one another in the kitchen attempting to get your feelings out some sort of way.

“i just don’t fucking get it sometimes,” matt spat at you, “it’s like all you care and think about is yourself.”

“what?! what the fuck are you even saying?!” you yelled, the anger that had slightly died down was rising straight back up.

“you are the most narcissistic, self-centred, most selfish person i have ever met,” matt said through gritted teeth, “you never think about me. you don’t care about anyone but yourself.”

he took a step closer to you as you slammed the dish you were cleaning down, “you’re the one that’s inconsiderate, not me” he says.

“are you fucking kidding me? don’t talk to me like that ever again, asshole!” you said squinting your eyes at him.

a bitter laugh left matt’s lips, walking right up to you and looking down at you, “i’ll say whatever i want, sweetheart. because for once i’ve reached a fucking breaking point.”

“leave then. fucking leave then, if this is such a problem!” you yell in his face.

you were telling him to leave but this was his house that he shared with his two brothers. nick and chris.

“this is my fucking house. but i will leave!” matt yelled back, “maybe i will just leave and you can spend the rest of your life being the most inconsiderate, selfish jackass on the planet! maybe ill just go find someone who actually values me!”

“are you kidding me right now? are you implying that you’ve been fucking cheating on me?!” you raise your voice in disbelief.

matt hadn’t cheated on you. you just took his words the wrong way.

“no! it was hypothetical! if you’d let me finish, you’d know that!” matt snapped back, “i wouldn’t cheat on you, i love you!”

you were taken aback by his statement, “well, the things you’re fucking saying to me right now don’t scream ‘i love you’ very much!”

“i do love you!” matt snapped, “but god! why are you so selfish, so egotistical, and so inconsiderate! how many times do i have to say it for it to go through your thick, stubborn skull?!”

you scoff, “i’m egotistical? you’re the one that thinks you’re better than everyone else because you make a bag off making shit youtube videos! you constantly think you’re one better than everyone else, matt!”

“i don’t think im better than everyone else! im proud of my work, what the fuck is wrong with that?! i’m proud that i was able to take my passion and make myself a career out of it! i get to play my favourite games and do what i love for a living and have it supported me all while i provide for you too? how is many of that wrong?!”

you furrow your brows at the last part of his sentence, “you provide for me? i’ve got my own job, that i got by myself! i don’t need your fucking money.”

“you live in my house! i pay the bills. you can’t even provide for yourself when you make chump change in a month!” matt was absolutely fuming at this point, taking another step towards you.

you felt hurt at what he said, but you didn’t let it affect the way you presented yourself, “what?! are you fucking kidding me right now? you’re the biggest shit talker and dick head i’ve ever met!”

“no, the biggest dick head you’ve ever met is you! you, with you’re self-righteous ego and narcissistic thought process! i’ve met so many assholes in my life, but no one has even come close to how much of a jerk you are!” matt spat, “i’ve put so many hours into this relationship. i’ve given you everything just for you to come back and act like i don’t care about you, and call me the dickhead?”

you sigh as you think about how much stuff you have to have done by tomorrow, “matt, i don’t have time for this right now!”

“oh, no! i think we have plenty of time for this!” matt said as he slammed his palms on the counter, “we aren’t leaving this kitchen until you can look at me and tell me you truly love me, and that you’re sorry for all the bullshit you’ve been saying!”

you stared in disbelief at what was coming out of his mouth right now, “bullshit i’ve been saying?! you’ve said so much worse than i have, so if it’s anyone that needs an apology it’s me! but i’m not fucking pathetic enough to beg someone for some half-assed apology!”

“bullshit? i’ve been telling the truth this whole entire time!” matt said, you are selfish, you are inconsiderate, you are narcissistic. everything i’ve said is true! and don’t worry, sweetheart. you wouldn’t have to beg me for an apology from me, i’d refuse to give you one, just as you’ve been doing to me this entire time!”

you felt sick to your stomach from what matt was letting fall off his tongue like venom, “why are you with me then?! and done even say ‘it’s because i love you’ because that’s bullshit, because you don’t. if you did you wouldn’t say this whether it’s true or not!”

“i do love you! i love you so fucking much, you don’t even know!” the anger on matt’s face soon gave way to sadness, “i’m just sick of your disregarding my feelings. i’m sick of you being so careless about how i feel or what i want. i’m sick of feeling like the only one that’s pouring my all into this relationship. i’m just tired… it hurts… it hurts me that you never even give me a second thought, even though i have you on my mind at all times.”

“that’s not true at all matt! i do put my all into this relationship and i will give it my last no matter what. i love you more than i can even describe so don’t even fucking doubt that! and give me two times i disregarded your feelings, because i dont!”

“every time i ask you to make dinner so i can do some planning when i come home from filming, you don’t do it! you just brush me off and say you’re too busy or tired! or what about the times i have to beg you to give me some time alone, that i haven’t gotten any privacy in forever. yet you still barge right in when i shut the door and you just start yapping to me!”

“matt you’re not the only one with problems, you know! and i do make us dinner and when i do barge in there’s always a good reason, so don’t even start that!” you spit.

“yes i know that! and i try to help you with your problems when you talk to me about them! but when i come to you with how i feel, you just say you’re too busy to listen to me and that we’ll talk later. but we never do!” matt speaks.

“because when later comes, i always find out that you’re at parties posting up with a bunch of girls. or you’re sitting in a car with nick and chris!” you let roll off your tongue.

“i’d have time for you if you weren’t such a cold, detached person!” matt fires back, “and i’m not ‘sitting in a car’ with nick and chris! we’re working!”

“don’t you ever just think, oh i’m actually in a really good work position compared to other people. because i don’t know if you’ve realised but you don’t need to deal with people constantly blaming you for everything in work because you’re the youngest and easiest to blame and degrade! that is why im always so busy and tired, im constantly cleaning up the shit that you leaving lying about while also juggling my paperwork that i have to do at home!”

“yeah, well you have no idea what it’s like to be a full-time youtuber!” matt said, “i have to keep my fans happy, make videos, do collabs with other creators, all while having my own life! and whenever i come home after being out all day, what do i come home to every time? you sitting on the sofa, on your phone, and not even thinking about what i might want or need after i’ve been busting my ass all day!”

your jaw drops slightly with a puzzled expression on your face, “are you fucking with me? you’re not a child matt, you can do things on your own. just because i’m home before you sometimes does not mean i will be your slave! and if you do, fucking think again!”

“i don’t want a slave! i want my girlfriend! i want someone who cares about me! i want the one i love to put me before anything else!” matt was getting agitated, his eyes starting to water.

“i do matt! i do put you before everything, i try my hardest! i ruin my own mental health for you!” you say with tears running down your face.

“it doesn’t feel like you do!” matt said, “you’re always so distant! you’re always so cold and you never show me any affection! and i’m not asking for much! a kiss every now and again would be nice! you don’t even say you love me unless i say to first!”

you let out a sad sigh, “what do you mean? i kiss you every day! i say i love you all the fucking time!”

“you never do it first though! i’m the only one that ever initiates anything! im the one that is always showing affection! the other day i just wanted a hug after filming and you gave me a one-armed side-hug!”

you rub your eyes out of exhaustion, “matt, i’m tired!”

“i’m tired too!” matt snapped, his voice getting louder now, “im exhausted! im working my ass off to make us money and to make you happy and i get nothing but complaints and coldness in return!”

you whined before huffing out words, “i’m not complaining, you’re the only one complaining right now!”

“yes because you never listen to me!” matt nearly yelled, “im trying to tell you how i actually feel! im opening up and being completely vulnerable with you, you just shoot down every single thing i say! all i want is for you to care!”

“matt i do! i care so fucking much it hurts. i love you more than anything! i left my life in florida to come and stay with you full-time because i knew you didn’t want a long-distance relationship. so if that’s not me considering your feelings then i don’t know what is!”

“i never asked you to move here.” matt said through clenched teeth, “yes, i asked you to move in for the summer, and i get you had a shitty family, but you never had to transfer your job and move your entire life here! you never had to put yourself in a stressful and expressive situation, you did that yourself!”

“no i didn’t! don’t get me wrong i love being here with you, nick and chris. i fucking love it! but it’s really hard sometimes! and i get you’re going through hard times too with your family being in boston but you have open arms everywhere around LA, i don’t, that’s the difference! that is why im so cold and defensive sometimes! im scared to trust!”

“why can’t you trust me?!” matt yelled, “you’ve lived here for a year now! i’ve given you everything just for you to say that you don’t trust me! after all i’ve done for you, after all i’ve given up to make you happy, i still get this kind of bullshit from you!”

you panicked since matt had took what you said the wrong way, “i didn’t say that, baby! i said it’s hard for me to trust anyone other than you!”

“so what does that mean?” matt asked, “i don’t deserve your trust? you don’t trust me when i tell you i love you?”

“it means that i’m bottling everything up inside of me because i don’t trust anyone else other than you because i don’t want to put the stress onto you! i feel like you don’t understand what im going through, which is totally fine, but you don’t ever keep that in mind! yes, you’re going through a hard time too but i am too and you need to think about that when you say things to me. you’re not the only person fucking struggling!”

“no, i get that!” matt argued back, “we’re both going through stuff, but the difference is i make time for you! i make sure that your needs are still met when i have time! you on the other hand disregard my feelings and my wants! you never even try to understand my side, while im constantly trying to get you to understand! and now that i’ve finally gotten you to listen, you’re still saying im wrong!”

“i’m sorry matt! i don’t know what else you want from me, im falling apart over here!”

“i want you! i just want you to love me the way you say you do!” matt said, “i want you to show me, physically, that you care about me! i want you to show me that im a priority in your life, just like you’re a priority in mine!”

“i do care about you! i just go through rough patches where i don’t realise that im not showing you how much i care and love you!”

“why not tell me when you’re going through rough patches? if you’re struggling, then why don’t you tell me so i can be there for you! i’d never think of you any differently, i’d never think to call you selfish or inconsiderate! all you have to do is let me in!” matt exclaims with frustration.

“and that’s one of the hardest things for me to do! it takes time to let people in when you grow up the way i did, when you were constantly told your feelings didn’t matter and if you told people that you were struggling they would think differently of you! and i’m not saying all this for you to feel sorry for me, i’m saying this so you can try and understand it from my perspective.” you explain with tears rolling down your cheeks.

“i do understand! i do understand that you’ve had a hard life and it’s hard to trust and open up, but im not asking you to tell me every single thing that’s ever happened to you and that you’ve ever felt! im asking you to just tell me you miss me, or that you’re upset, or that you’re feeling angry or sad or frustrated! i’m asking you to open up just a little bit so i can do my best and try to show you that i love you!”

you tilt your head back and place your hands over your face before whimpering and tilting your head forward again, “and i’m trying matt!”

“i know you are!” matt said, his voice losing the edge as he looked at your tear stained face with empathy. he took a step closer to you and laid his hands gingerly on your shoulders, “i know you’re trying, i do, and it’s not fair for me to expect you to just completely open up overnight, but you’re tearing me apart too! i’m so worn out and tired from trying to get you to show me that my feelings matter to you!”

you hiccup just before you begin to talk, “i’m really trying to be better matt, i am! and i know what you want from me but it takes time. a lot of time. so please, just give me time and and you’ll get what you want in this relationship. and i’ll give you it whether it wipes me out or not!”

“how much time do i have to give you?” matt sighed, “i’ve given you nearly a year of time. i’ve been trying so hard this entire time to break through whatever wall you have up, and after a year you’re still telling me to wait? i can’t keep waiting forever!”

“i know and it’s not fair on you but it also isn’t fair on me to give you something im not ready for!” you whimper before sighing sadly.

“then what am i supposed to do?” matt exclaimed, stepping backwards and running his fingers through his hair, “if you’re not at a place that you can give me what i need in a relationship, when do you foresee yourself being there? another year? two? never?!”

“i don’t know! that is what i need to figure out and you to trust me on, but it’s hard!” you cry out.

“i’m doing my best to make this easy, but you still keep pushing back when i try to get anything out of you!” matt was frowning frustrated again, taking his hands to his face and massaging his eyes, “im just so tired of trying! i’m at my wits end!”

“matt, im sorry!”

“sorry isn’t good enough anymore!” matt almost shouted, “i don’t want another half-assed apology! that’s all you’ve given me our entire relationship, and it isn’t good enough!”

you internally groan, “matt, it’s not half-assed! i’m being considerate.”

“considerate of who? me? yourself?” matt spat, the anger in his voice returning, “because it seems like you’re trying to avoid having to do any work in our relationship and just want me to accept that you’re not ready!”

“well i don’t know what else you want me to do! because im seriously trying but you’re not giving me the time i need and that just takes us back to square one, baby!” you whine, wiping the tears that is running down your chin.

“but you’re not giving me anything to go off of!” matt’s voice was reaching high octive, the anger and exhaustion on his face evident, “i’ve been trying this entire time and every single time i tell you how i’m feeling you push my away. you ask me to give you time, and what exactly am i supposed to do while i wait other than be miserable?!”

your heart drops, “matt, baby… please. don’t give up on me.” you say your voice and heart breaking all at once.

“i don’t want to give up on you… i don’t!” matt said, the anger leaving his body as he watched your own sadness. he took a step towards you before suddenly wrapping his arms tight around you and pulling you into his chest, “i’m just so tired…” he whispered into your hair.

you sniffle before replying, “me too…”

matt didn’t say anything else, he just held onto you tight and buried his face in your hair. he squeezed you as tight as he closed his eyes and tried to get himself back under control.

there was a long heavy moment of silence that fell over the kitchen before matt finally spoke again, voice low.

“i’m sorry. im sorry im putting so much pressure on you, and you’re not ready. im sorry im losing my patience. i love you so much, but i just want to feel loved too… i want to hear you say it…”

“i love you, so fucking much.” whisper into his chest as you close your eyes, tears spilling out.

matt squeezed you tighter at your words, one of his hands reaching around to touch the back of your head in a protective hold. he rested his chin on top of your head, burying his face in the top of it as he closed his eyes again and inhaled the familiar scent of your shampoo. you could feel his body relax as you spoke, the tension leaving his tired and wear muscles.

“i love you too… i love you so much, even when you drive me crazy…”

“i’m really sorry for making you feel like this… i don’t mean it. i swear. it’s just… i just fuck up everything i do.”

“shhh…” matt hushed you, his hand massaging the back of your head in a soothing manner, “you don’t have to apologise for how you feel. i’m sorry for getting angry at you, i just want you to love me the same way i love you and i got frustrated and impatient.”

“but i fucked up our relationship…” you insecurely whispered into his chest.

“you may have said or done things that weren’t the best, but you haven’t completely ruined this relationship, sweetheart.” matt said quietly, pulling back now so he can look down at your tear stained face.

one of his hands came up to your cheek, his thumb gently swiping away one of the droplets.

“but i have or else we wouldn’t be having this argument…” you whispered.

“arguments are apart of every relationship, baby. this is natural, especially for us.” matt said, his tone gentle as he spoke, “this doesn’t mean you’ve completely ruined us. i still love you, and im sure you still love me.”

“of course i do, and don’t ever doubt it” you say shaking your head and looking down to the ground in embarrassment and shame that you caused this huge argument.

“hey,” matt spoke quietly as he took one of his fingers and placed it under your chin so he could lift it up, forcing you to look at him, “look at me baby,”

“hm?” you hum as you look up at him with a saddened look on your face.

his expression was so much softer than before, the exhaustion and the anger now replaced with love and concern. matt’s eyes searched your face as he kept his hand under you chin to hold you head up.

“i want you to listen to me and really hear me, okay?” he said in a soft and calm voice.

“okay” you whisper groggily due to the waterworks from before, and licking your dry lips.

“i love you. no matter how many times i get angry, or frustrated, or exhausted, i love you more than you will ever truly know. you haven’t ruined this. i haven’t lost my love or trust for you.” matt began to say, keeping his eyes fixed on yours, “i don’t ever want you to think that i don’t love you because i do. all i want is for you to try and meet me where i am, okay?”

“i love you. and im sorry for not doing what you expected from me. thank you for giving me a second chance, i don’t deserve you.” you say as another few tears spill out of your eyes.

“i don’t expect you to be perfect, sweetheart. i know you’ve gone through things and that’s what makes you human, but i know you still love me.” he whispered calmly.

matt dropped his hand from your chin to wrap around your waist again, and he gently pulled you forward to press you against his chest once more, his chin resting on top of your head and his arms wrapped around you in a firm hold.

“i love you” you whisper into his chest for the tenth time today, before leaning up and pressing a kiss to his lips, matt returned the kiss with gentle fervour, before burying his head in the crook of your neck and shoulder.

he held you tight, his body relaxing and conforming to your form as he held you close to him, enjoying the feeling of your body against his.

@sturnsreckless

[woso-dreamzzz]

Run, Run, Run

Alexia Putellas x Reader

Summary: You have to run

TW: toxic relationship, cheating, attempts at manipulation

You'd always been a runner.

Literally and now figuratively.

You were a sprinter mainly.

Two-hundred metres was your sweet spot but you could compete in one-hundred and four-hundred metres comfortably too.

But two-hundred was what got you interested in athletics, what showed you at your best, the event that made you one of the lucky ones.

One of the ones that didn't need another job.

Brand deals and sponsorships and everything you could have ever dreamed of came flooding in.

You could dedicate your time to just running.

Running, running, running.

Feet pounding on concrete.

Running, running, running.

An Olympic gold had always been in your grasp in your head. It was something you had only dreamed about. An errant pipe dream that you'd told your parents as a kid and they'd done that dismissive kind of agreement that all parents did when their child's hopes and dreams were a once in a lifetime kind of thing.

The 'oh, that's nice, sweetie, now finish your veggies' kind of dismissal.

Running was your lifeblood.

It always had been.

It always will be.

Even as you wait at the airport with your Olympic gold weighing down your bag.

Two bronzes and a gold was a triumph for your first Olympics.

You'd made your mark.

It was meant to be the greatest moment of your life.

The commentators had joked that it looked like something was chasing you, like you you were running from them.

They were kind of right.

You ran like something was after you, getting closer and closer.

It was only when you feel to your knees, the winner of the two-hundred metres, that it caught up.

Sweet, brutal acceptance.

Alexia was cheating on you.

She was sleeping with Jenni again.

You should have known it was going to happen.

You were younger than her, almost ten years younger. Of course, she would want to go back to her ex. Her older, more worldly, more put together ex.

The one that she could relate to more. The one that she had played with for years. The one that she could build a life with.

You had hoped that could have been you.

But clearly not.

Alexia was cheating on you, had been cheating on you since who knows when.

It could have been ever since the beginning. It could have been during the World Cup or just after it. It could have been just at the Olympics.

It didn't matter when it started though.

It happened and now you had to deal with the fall out.

And you were dealing it with the only way you knew how.

By running.

Fleeing the country.

There was a coach in England that was happy to work with you and moving to Manchester truly didn't feel as daunting as it should have.

"Stop calling me," You say," Just...stop..." You're so defeated. So done with this.

You wish you had the strength to just block and delete her number but every time you tried, all you could do was stare at the profile picture.

You in Alexia's arms, her lips pressed against your cheek.

"Baby," Alexia coos, her voice sweet saccharine that goes right through you," Amor...Mi vida-"

"Alexia, don't." You could feel your conviction wavering just by the sound of her voice.

"I don't actually love her," Alexia continues," She was only because I missed you. I want you. You're going to be my wife, remember?"

"Ale...please, don't make this more difficult than it needs to be."

"Mi vida, you're being so silly. Come home. Let's talk."

"No...I-I don't want to."

An edge of tension strung through her voice and you close your eyes tightly.

"Where are you? I'll pick you up. We'll go to dinner and I'll show you how much I love you. What about the baby you wanted? Let's make make a baby, amor."

"Alexia-"

"No," Alexia interrupts," I'm coming to get you. Send me your loc-"

"Attention all passengers, the seven-thirty flight to Manchester, England with British Airways is now inviting our business class passengers to board."

You can hear Alexia suck in a breath. "Are you at the airport?"

You don't respond but you know she can hear movement on your end of the line as you gather up your hastily packed luggage.

"Are you at the airport?!" She asks again.

Again, you don't answer.

"Amor," Her voice goes sweet," Don't get on that flight. Come home to me. Let's talk."

"I'm sorry, Alexia," You say," I wish you the best but I just can't do this."

"Don't-Don't hang up! Don't you dare-"

You turn off your phone as you step onto the plane.

Running has always come easy.

It's not really like you're taking the coward's way out.

You're running to save yourself because Alexia will ruin you if you go back to her.

She will break you apart, wear you down with sweet promises and soft touches.

Then she'll go back to camp and cheat on you again.

You're running to save yourself the heartbreak.

[adrienneleclerc]

Wrong Name

Pairing: Charles Leclerc x Hispanic/Latina! Reader

Summary: Charles pranks Y/N by calling her the wrong name to see how she would react, it did not go well

Warning: spelling and grammatical errors

A/N: inspired by @23victoria post “what did you call me” also I figured Y/N put Charles through two TikTok pranks, it’s only fair Charles pulls a prank on her. Same universe as “say it back” and “can you get out?” Also, super sorry if your name is Romina.

Charles was on TikTok because he couldn’t sleep and saw a video where a girl called her boyfriend by the wrong name. He decided to take it upon himself to pull this prank on his girlfriend. He just hopes she doesn’t get angry.

“Muñeco, im getting groceries for dinner, I’ll be back soon!” Y/N calls out.

“Okay, Mon ange.” Charles said, getting off the couch to say goodbye to his girlfriend properly. “I love you.” Charles kissed Y/N.

“I love you too.” Y/N said before leaving. Charles decided to play video games and when he heard the door open 30 minutes later, that’s when he decided to put his plan into action. Y/N was putting the groceries away in the fridge when…

“Hey Romina, what did you buy?” Charles said and Y/N closed the fridge and the bags that were on the counter were long forgotten because she was now in front of the TV.

“What did you say?” Y/N asked.

“I said ‘hey Y/N, what did you buy?’ Are you feeling alright?” Charles asked, pausing his game. He felt so guilty for the gaslighting.

“The hell you did, you just called me Romina. Who the fuck is Romina?” Y/N asked in a louder tone.

“Romina, calm down.” Charles said and that’s when he knew he fucked up.

“First of all, you never tell a woman to calm down, have you learned NOTHING from watching TV or having other girlfriends? Second, you just called me Romina AGAIN! So please, calmly tell me…” Y/N said as she went to their bedroom to get one of her chanclas 🩴 “who the hell is Romina before I become like my mother and beat your ass with this chancla.”

“There’s no need to get violent, Y/N.” Charles said.

“Really? Then tell me why did you call me Romina.” Y/N said.

“It was a prank.” Charles said. “I saw a TikTok of girls calling their boyfriends by the wrong name and I wanted to see how you would react.” Charles confessed shyly.

“You chose THAT prank, specifically THAT one, to pull on me, a girl who has been cheated on before?” Y/N asked rhetorically.

“Yeah, I didn’t think it through actually.” Charles admitted.

“Menso, i was actually gonna hit you.” Y/N said.

“You love me too much to hit me.” Charles said.

“That’s true. Anyway, I have to finish putting the groceries away because someone decided to be a pendejo and prank me. Like why would you prank me? I’m a freaking delight.” Y/N said, walking save to the kitchen

“You pranked me twice, ma Belle!” Charles exclaimed, following her.

“Okay but those were cute pranks, that prank would have ended up with me in jail.” Y/N said, putting the groceries away on the fridge, freezer, and pantry.

“I would never let you go to jail.” Charles said,

“Hey, so while I’m cooking dinner, I’m gonna put on some music, okay.” Y/N said.

“Yeah that’s fine.” Charles said and they kissed. Y/N out her phone on full volume to CUIDADITO by Becky G and Chiquis, singing out loud and specific part.

“Yo no soy celosa pero si eso pasa me transformo en otra. Te poncho las llantas dormirás afuera y esa misma noche le marco a mi suegra para que recoja a la cochinada que un día parió. Te rayo el carro te quiebro los vidrios y voy a llamar a todos mis amigos para que me ayuden que en un pisteada lo arregló yo. Nomas cuidadito con ponerme el cuerno que todo eso lo hago y hasta más me atrevo y no mas te advierto que cuidadito con ponerme el cuerno de la que te salvaste da gracias a dios que nomas fue una broma.” Y/N sung, changing the last two words (which are originally ‘un sueño ’ which means ‘a dream’). I’m not a jealous woman but if that were to happen, I become a different person. I’ll slash your tires, you’ll be sleeping outside, and I’ll call my mother in law that same night to pick up the piece of shit she gave birth to. I’ll key your car, break your windows, and I’ll call my friends so they’ll help me, I’ll handle it in one good beating. If you cheat on me, just be careful because I would do all of that and even more, I’m just warning you to be careful if you cheat on me. You got lucky, thank god it was only just a prank

“Mon ange, what’s that song about?” Charles asked curiously.

“The song is about a women who dreamt that her husband cheated on her. She would have done some crazy shit if he actually cheated her so he’s fucking lucky it was only a dream.” Y/N said with a smile.

“But you sang ‘broma’ and that’s means ‘joke’…” charles said,

“Or prank.” Y/N said,

“You sang that for me?!?” Charles yelled.

“Yes I did so you know, cuidadito.” Y/N warned.

“I Don’t know whether to be scared of you or attracted to you.” Charles confessed and Y/N laughed.

“Both work, mi Amor. You want lomo saltado or tallarines saltado?” Y/N asked.

“Whats the difference?” Charles asked.

“Lomo has French fries and is served with rice, tallarines is pasta.” Y/N said,

“Pasta please.” Charles said,

“Of course, muñeco.” Y/N said, chopping the steak into little strips while humming the music to CUIDADITO and Charles stared at her because he found himself humming too.

“You know I would never cheat on you, right Y/N?” Charles asked just to make sure.

“Of course I know you’d never cheat on me. But the song is so catchy.” Y/N commented and that made Charles feel so much better. He walked up to Y/N and hugged her from behind as she continued to chop the steak, he kissed her shoulder.

“I love you,” Charles said,

“I love you too.” Y/N said,

The End

Hope y’all liked it! A silly little one shot for giggles 🤭

[starogeorgina]

𝐓𝐡𝐞 𝐛𝐞𝐚𝐮𝐭𝐲 𝐨𝐟 𝐬𝐢𝐧

Warnings: Incest, light smut, swearing, cheating

Pairing: Cregan Stark x reader, Aemond Targaryen × reader

1.01

Your eyes glistened with tears as they dribbled down your cheeks. You swallow back the bile rising and rub at your temples with your free hand, bringing yourself back to reality. You could only stare up at the empty sky for so long while imagining what it would be like to be an actual dragon, free to go wherever you want.

“He’s been feeding for some time,” Aemond says softly. “His stomach must be full.”

“I know how to feed my babe. He’ll stop latching on when he’s no longer hungry.”

Aemond, who was still standing on the opposite side of the room, slowly starts to approach you. “I mean know offensive wife, I know you care for him without fault.”

You say nothing.

A few moments pass, and your babe finally lets go of your breast. When you wipe milk from his mouth, he starts to fuss. “There, there,” you coo. “There’s nothing to cry over, my little Prince; time for bed.”

Gently you put Maitland into the cot placed beside your bed; only after you’re sure he’s settled do you finally make eye contact with Aemond. His eye is glossy with tears. “You had your belongings moved from our bedchamber.”

Aemond attempts to touch your shoulder, but you shrug him off.

“Twas only a matter of time, wasn’t it? Before you betrayed me.” Your voice cracks and your stomach churns. “I will not share a bed with a man who puts his precious whore before his family and lies to my face.”

“If Aegon—”

“Do not blame him for letting me know how much of a fool I was. Singing your praises, bearing your child, bragging how I had the perfect husband. I needed you by my side, Aemond, but instead of being there, you were coddled by that old whore.”

His lip twitches, “And what do you purpose we do now? I’m still your husband. We have a child together; you must hold some love for me.”

“When Maitland is older, we will perform our duty again, but until then, nothing. No more dragon riding, no more attending plays together, no walks in the garden. When we walk by each other in the halls, we will say nothing.”

“None of it needs to be this way in truth.”

The raw emotion in his voice is surprising, but you refuse to budge. Give into your emotions. Aemond broke something inside. You whisper, “It’s too late.”

His sight goes to the cot, and you could see the wheels of panic turning.

“You are free to spend as much time with our son as you wish; just try not to disappoint him as you have me.”

Five years later

Breathing in the scent of dragon, you bury your nose deeper into the crook of Aemond’s neck. The smell brings you comfort, a warmth you don’t get from your husband.

Pushed up against the cold wall in your chambers, you wait for Aemond to finish fucking you as if you were a bitch in heat. Aemond was completely nude, while your body was concealed by your green dress. Aemond lets go of your hip and pinches your nipple; he smirks, feeling the way you arch your back.

Your fingers cling to his hair, “fuck, harder.”

Aemond speeds up his thrust, his hips slapping against yours. The maester had worked out the best time during each moon for his seed to take, and it was one of the few times you’d interact. There were times you felt lonely and sought out his comfort, but each time you went to his bedchambers they were empty.

He was with her.

Trying to fall in love with Aemond again was as painful as reopening an old wound.

“Gods,” he grunts, spilling his seed. His lips graze your ear. “It’s been too long since we did this.”

“Yes, well…” You brush by him and begin putting your stockings back on. “We have much to do in the name of our king.”

While redressing, Aemond frowns watching you walk towards the door. “Where are you going? The handmaidens are coming shortly to help you get ready.”

“To see my boy.”

“He’s asleep.”

“I know that, Aemond,” you deadpan. “It doesn’t matter what I’m wearing. Once I arrive, I’ll need to bathe before formally meeting with Lord Stark. I don’t imagine northerners will appreciate the strong smell of dragon after a long journey.”

A sound that resembles chuckle leaves his lips.

When your grandsire first proposed sending dragon riders as envoys, you offered to fly the longest journey north. Helaena did not wish to participate; Daeron was in Old Town, and Aegon needed to remain in the keep, leaving only you and Aemond to bicker over what houses you’d visit.

In the privacy of the small council with only Aegon and yourself, your grandsire speaks freely. “Mayhaps it would be better if the princess went to treat with Lord Cregan at Winterfell. He is young but fierce and may be persuaded by the gentle heart of a woman rather than threats.”

It was known Stark didn’t break oaths, but you had an ulterior motive for volunteering.

“I do not need a fancy dress to go dragon riding. I will see my son before going to the dragon pit.” You bite at your nails while contemplating what to say next. “Be safe, brother.”

—

“Princess.”

Disappointment strikes you as soon as you see Ser Criston standing post outside your bedchamber. You start walking down the hallway, knowing the knight would follow close behind. “Where is my sworn shield?”

“I took over his shift.”

Scoffing, you glare at him. “Scared I’ll tell my husband of your dirty little secret?”

“Not at all princess; I know the love you hold for the dowager queen and wouldn’t risk tarnishing her name.”

If the hour wasn’t late and you weren’t near your son's nursery, the knight would have received the sharpness of your tongue. But you had no intention of waking Maitland.

“You’ve become too comfortable around dragons, Ser Criston. If it was one of my brothers who walked in, they would have been burned in flames by now.”

Your demeanor changes when you reach the nursery, “Ser Arryk.”

“Princess,” he opens the door for you. “Lord commander.”

Ameond had personally chosen Ser Arryk to be Maitland's shield, and it was a wise decision. “Ser Arryk, during my absence there's naught to be changed to my son's customs.”

“I won’t let him out of my sight, princess.”

—

When you arrived at Winterfell, you were informed Lord Stark wasn’t in his castle but at Castle Black. After accepting a warm meal and a chance to clean up, you fly on Dragonback to the wall, much to the horror of the men of the night’s watch.

“Most of them thought you were coming to burn us.”

You chuckle, “Fear is common in the presence of a dragon, but I suppose the rangers who scout beyond the walls will have much worse things to fear.”

“They are a sight to behold. My father brought King Jaehaerys and Queen Alysanne to see the Wall; it’s an honor to lay eyes on the same dragons he did. Although I am surprised you are alone, princess.”

“Vermithor and Silverwing are deeply connected and cannot be parted easily.”

When you reach the top of the wall, you take each step with caution; ice and snow weren’t something you were accustomed to walking on. Lord Stark notices and does his best to hide the smile on his face.

“Do they both have riders?”

You smile proudly, “Silverwing is bonded with my son. He is too young and small to mount her yet, but the dragon keepers think he will be ready in a couple of years.”

“Many of the ladies in Winterfell laugh that I won’t allow my son, Rickon, who is seven, to travel to the wall with me.”

You continue making small talk about your children, and you learn Lord Stark’s wife died in childbirth. He stops walking when you reach a spot in the middle of the wall that faces the forest, which is believed to be haunted. The longer you stare at it, the darker it becomes, just like you had foreseen in your head.

“I’ll speak freely with you, princess; Starks do not forget their oaths, and my father swore our house and bent the knee to the king's chosen heir in front of King Viserys and princess Rhaenyra. You must know that regardless of who sits on the throne, my gaze will forever be torn between north and south.”

“Thank you, my lord, for being honest.” Your reaction of understanding instead of anger seems to surprise him. “When winter comes, your strength will be needed here more than in King's landing. Your men are the guardians against the cold and the dark.”

He cocks his head; the look in his eyes is hard to read. “Most people outside our lands think the wall was built to keep out wildings and weather.”

“Death sleeps beneath the ice.”

[sunsburns]

naked in manhattan

pairing: tashi duncan x fem!reader / implied art donaldson x fem!reader

summary: you’re just hours away from a flight that will change your career forever—one that will take you to london, england, for the 2012 olympics, a milestone you never thought you’d reach. thrilled yet trembling with nerves, you find yourself at the hotel bar, celebrating alone. it does not help when you run into art donaldson and… his wife?

—or: you and tashi rekindle an old flame

word count: 6.9k

contains: SMUT 18+, smut with a lot of plot, semi-public sex (a gym at the middle of the night so idk if that counts), mid-challengers movie (a year after the atlanta scene with tashi and patrick), angst with no comfort, fingering, homewrecking, cheating but also not cheating but also a worse third thing, no use of y/n, old situationship best described in terms of “casual” by chappell roan (iykyk), art is lowkey a shit starter

author’s note: so i finished this a while back and added it to my queue and did not realize i put it for july instead of june so LOL MY BAD. this is kinda like a prequel to “good luck, babe!” but you don't need to read that to get this. alsoooo thank you for all the love and feedback in “good luck, babe!” i’ve read every single message and tried to reply to all of them! you guys are so sweet and inspired me to write more! thank you thank you <3 i hope you enjoy this one!

Manhattan, New York City, 2012

"I hope you're planning on getting laid tonight."

Your drink is cold, the ice cubes clinking against the glass as you swirl the straw absentmindedly. The dim lighting of the hotel bar casts a warm, golden glow over everything, making the polished wood of the bar counter gleam. Around you, the murmur of conversations, bursts of laughter, and the occasional clinking of glasses create a lively yet intimate ambiance. You glance at the TV mounted in the corner, where a muted sports channel displays highlights from a basketball game.

You try not to snort into your drink at the words of Patrick Zweig on the other end of the call. You push your phone closer to your ear, unable to bite back the grin spreading across your face.

"Are you serious?" you ask.

"What?" Patrick's tone is mockingly innocent, full of playful mischief.

"I thought you called to say something a little more... I don't know, sincere? Heartwarming?"

He lets out a loud, boisterous laugh that you can practically feel through the phone. In the background, you hear the faint sounds of a city—honking cars, distant chatter, and the occasional bark of a dog. The noise fades slightly as Patrick likely moves to a quieter spot, and you can almost picture him getting in his car in some other state—you think he's in Arizona.

"The only kind of warming I wanna hear about is cockwarming," he retorts, his voice dripping with mock seriousness.

You make a face, "You're disgusting."

"I mean it," he insists, still laughing. "I'm actually so jealous of you right now. You qualified for the Olympics, for fuck's sake! How's your mom doing? Did she have a heart attack? Did she call you already? I hope she packed you some condoms. There's gonna be such a wide variety. Literally every country in the world."

"Shut the fuck up, Patrick."

Your mother did call, her voice crackling with emotion over the phone just before Patrick rang you. She told you how proud she is of you, how she can't wait to watch you play and tell everyone she knows that her daughter is an Olympic tennis player. A gold medalist, maybe.

Her words echo in your mind, filling you with a warmth that battles the nerves simmering beneath the surface.

You take a sip of your drink, savouring the blend of fruity and bitter flavours, a welcome distraction from the whirlwind of thoughts. You try not to spill it on your Ralph Lauren sweater, custom-made, just for the Olympics, with your name stitched on the arm.

Around you, the hotel bar is alive with the buzz of other athletes celebrating with their teams. The fellowship is appreciable as laughter and cheers fill the air. But for some single athletes, like yourself, it's a different story. You feel as if you're in high school all over again, too awkward to make friends, hoping someone braver than you will come by and say hello first.

"You better not be sitting at the bar alone, drinking that orange juice you like."

"A sangria isn't just juice, you dick," you retort, rolling your eyes.

"You're such a loser."

You do feel a little bit like a loser, sitting alone at the bar, but you know you shouldn't. You're hours away from your flight to London where you'll have the chance to play tennis in the Olympics. This is all you've ever wanted since you were a child, all you've been working for—sweat, blood, and tears. You can't even remember a time when you've dreamt of something other than this.

Tennis has always been your escape, your sanctuary. You remember those early days when you played with second-hand rackets and makeshift nets, the local court becoming your second home.

And then there was Patrick, your closest… friend(?) and fiercest rival. His encouragement, his competition, and his company kept you grounded and motivated. When the going got tough, the dream felt too distant, and all of it made you feel far too guilty as if you had stolen someone else's life, Patrick was there to reassure you that you deserved it just as much as the next. Without him, you likely would have walked away from the sport you love.

"I can't believe you made it to the Olympics before me," Patrick's voice pulls you back to the present, a mix of envy and pride lacing his words. You can almost see the playful smirk on his face, a familiar expression that often surfaced during your countless matches together.

"I wish you were here, Pat." Your voice softens, the longing evident. It was hard to track down Patrick Zweig, especially while he was constantly on the move, hopping from state to state, playing as many challengers as he could sign up for, each match a stepping stone toward his dream of winning the US Open. And you think he will. You've played against him enough times to know he's better than you at hitting a ball with a racket.

There were nights when you'd both crash in a shabby motel or back at your place after a gruelling day on the court, strategizing and critiquing each other's play styles (sometimes in more than just tennis). His tenacity was a beacon for you, pushing you to strive harder and to reach further.

His voice softens, becoming more earnest. "Yeah, me too. I'll try to get tickets for one of your games in London. If not, I'll catch up with your mom and watch it with her. Is your dad still in the picture?"

You roll your eyes, a reflex to his familiar teasing. "Oh, my god."

"I'm just asking," he chuckles. "Listen, I'm gonna let you go, 'cause I've got a date tonight. But call me when you land."

"Oh, yeah, okay." You try not to let the disappointment seep into your voice, but it's hard. It's not like you and Patrick were together, at least not publicly, at least not in the sense that you couldn't see other people. But even as you tell yourself that, a knot tightens in your chest.

It feels a bit teenageish, you think, messing around with friends and acting like it means nothing just to avoid making things awkward. Yet, you couldn't shake the feeling that you were leaving something unsaid, something unacknowledged. Patrick was one of the few people in your life who kept you on your toes and made you feel good—truly good.

Now, the idea of him with someone else, going on dates while you chase your dreams, feels like a betrayal you can't quite articulate. But what right do you have to feel that way? You never made things official, never dared to cross that line.

You never bothered to search for love outside of tennis.

"Have fun on your date," you manage to say. It comes out more brittle than you'd hoped. "Talk to you later."

"Bye!" he says, oblivious to the turmoil in your heart. His voice is light and carefree, and why wouldn't it be?

You end the call and set your phone down on the bar with a bit more force than intended, the hollow thud echoing your frustration. The bartender glances your way and you try to flash him an honest smile before ordering another drink. The TV overhead flickers, switching from basketball highlights to a recap of the latest tennis matches. You watch the screen without really seeing it.

The bar is still lively, yet you feel an overwhelming sense of solitude. You can't help but feel like you're stuck in limbo—caught between your dreams and the reality of your personal life.

You take a deep breath and a long sip of the rest of your first drink, the cool liquid doing little to ease the heat of frustration building inside you. You tell yourself you should be happy, grateful even. But right now, all you can think about is Patrick, and how much easier it would be if he were here with you.

But he's not. And maybe he never will be.

Maybe no one will.

Maybe you will die alone, your tennis racket as your only companion.

"This seat taken?" A familiar voice breaks through your thoughts.

You turn, startled, "No-" you start, but then the blur of blonde hair comes to focus and you're stumbling over your words, "Art? What- what are you doing here?"

"Oh," he smiles, a shy faint red blush already growing on his pale skin. He sits beside you, almost hesitantly, "Just stopping by the city. I saw you and thought I'd say hi."

"Hi." You return his smile, albeit a bit warily.

It's been years since you last spoke to Art properly, though your paths have crossed a few times. You've seen him in magazines, TV, and brief passings usually at major tournaments—Wimbledon, the Australian Open, the US Open. Each time, there were shy smiles and waves from across the room, lingering eyes, and awkward conversations where mutual friends tried to reintroduce you as if you hadn't once known each other

Art looks different every time you see him. His hair, now a little shorter than you remember, still maintains that boyish shagginess. There's a darker tan on his skin, evidence of his time spent under the sun. Some days he has a brighter smile, other days, it's a smile that never reaches his eyes.

As he sits there, you can't help but think of how golden his hair used to look whenever he wore his old Stanford hat, the one he used to pull low over his eyes during your college days. The memory makes you aware that you're staring, maybe a little too long. But he's looking at you too, his blue eyes trailing from one end of your face to the other, as if trying to memorize it all, capturing a photograph of who you are now.

A warmth spreads through you under his gaze, and when he finally looks away, you turn too, tapping at your empty glass, pretending to seem interested in the way the ice has started to melt.

But your eyes betray you, slowly trailing back to him. You watch the way he sits, the way he calls over the bartender and orders himself a glass of water. You try not to notice the deep timbre his voice has gained over the years, and how it resonates in the noisy bar. He looks at you, then the empty seat on your other side, and finally scans the room anxiously, as if he's searching for someone or something.

"He's not here," you finally say, breaking the silence that has grown too heavy. "If that's what you're wondering."

He nods, trying to act nonchalant but failing miserably. "What city is he in now?"

"Vegas, I think."

He makes a face and rests his chin on his hand. "There's no challengers in Vegas this month."

"Then he's just visiting. I don't know." The truth is, you don't want to talk about Patrick right now. Especially not with Art. Not after the way they ended things. You watch Art shrug, and the bartender sets your drink in front of you. You take a grateful sip, savouring the blend of flavours. Art holds his glass carefully, and the two of you sit in strained silence for a moment, the noise of the bar fading into the background.

You can't help but ask, "What are you doing here? In Manhattan?"

"I have an interview tomorrow. For the New York Times," Art says, leaning back slightly. He seems a little surprised as if he expected you to sit there without acknowledging him for the whole night. It makes you wonder what he thinks of you. "They're doing a piece on my career, the highs, the lows... the beginning and stuff."

You study his face, trying to gauge his emotions. You know what it's like to be interviewed, to have a team of people making you look your best for photos and another team crafting answers to help you maintain your reputation. It’s exhausting and thrilling all at once. "Congrats, I'm happy for you."

"Thank you. If anything, I should be congratulating you. Olympics? That's huge..." He continues talking, his lips moving, but you’re barely registering the words. For the first time that night, he seems genuinely enthusiastic, a faint spark in his eyes as he talks about you, about London, gesturing with his hand in excitement.

That's when you notice it. The gold around his finger. It glimmers under the warm lights of the bar, catching your eye like a beacon. You can't stop staring at it even after he's done talking.

"Oh, yeah. It's great." The words feel hollow as they leave your mouth. You struggle to find the right response, not wanting to be rude. "You're married?"

His face falls, and he looks down at his hand resting on his lap. "Oh, yeah, yeah. We, uh..." He scratches the back of his head, his eyes darting up to meet yours briefly before looking away. He seems nervous, like he's bracing for your reaction, worried to tell you, as if you weren’t supposed to know at all. "We got married last year. We kept pushing the date for a while because we were... we were busy... and stuff just kept getting in the way."

"We...?"

"Tashi."

"Tashi," you echo, the name tasting foreign and bitter on your tongue. "You're married? You married each other?"

He nods, "Yeah, we've been engaged for a few years now. You haven't heard?"

You feel a lump form in your throat. "No, uh. My coach tries to keep me away from certain news... my mom suggested it. So I don't get uh, distracted."

This is exactly the kind of situation your team has been trying to avoid.

The reality of his words sinks in, and you feel a sharp pang of something—loss, regret, maybe even jealousy. The air around you feels thicker and harder to breathe. Each word he says feels like another brick being laid on your chest, pressing down, making it harder to stay composed.

"Oh. Yeah, that makes sense."

You force a smile, but it's a fragile thing, threatening to shatter at any moment. "That's... that's great, Art. I'm happy for you. Really. How was... how was the wedding?" Your mind races with thoughts of broken promises and missed opportunities. You imagine Tashi in her wedding dress; you know she looked beautiful. The image stabs at you, and you wince.

"It was beautiful. Both our families came in, and we kept it traditional, in a church. It was..." He pauses, watching you before adding, "It was a small ceremony. Private. Just family."

His words twist the knife deeper. Tashi's family used to see you as such. "No, yeah, I get it. Wouldn't want any trouble at the wedding. I'm happy for you. I'm happy for the both of you." You turn to the bartender, desperate to keep your voice steady. "Hey, can I get another drink? Something stronger?"

Patrick was right; your stupid orange juice won't get you through the night.

Art watches you with concern, his brow furrowing. "How many of those have you had?"

You laugh, but it sounds hollow even to your ears. "Not enough."

"Does your coach know you're drinking?"

"Does yours know you're talking to me?"

Art leans back, his posture stiffening. He turns to his drink, the ice clinking softly against the glass as he takes another sip. The silence that follows is thick and uncomfortable. You watch as he processes your words, his expression shifting from defensiveness to something more pained. You instantly feel a pang of guilt, realizing you've struck a nerve.

You've heard all about Tashi's coaching with Art. Whispers in the locker rooms during tournaments, hushed conversations about how she's pushing him until he cracks. You never wanted to believe it, never wanted to think that Tashi, of all people, would be the one to break him down.

"She calls you Ace, you know."

You make a face at the name. A journalist had written an article about you a few years ago when you won your first US Open, nicknaming you Ace since your serves were almost impossible to hit. The nickname stuck, plastered across headlines, magazine covers, and merchandise. People even bet on you becoming the youngest tennis player with the most aces in history before the season ended. You were only off by a dozen.

"Does she?" you ask, trying to keep your voice steady, unaffected.

"You do have a killer serve."

You scoff, shaking your head. "Killer." The word feels bitter on your tongue. "Tashi used to hit those back at me like it was nothing."

Art nods, taking another sip of his drink before pausing to look at you. "Only 'cause she knows you."

"Knew," you correct him.

The silence stretches again, heavier this time. You're about to say something, anything to break it, when Art speaks again, his voice softer, more earnest.

"I miss you."

What. The. Fuck.

"I do," he insists, leaning forward, his eyes searching yours. "I miss hanging out with you. I miss playing with you. Watching your games live and not recorded on my TV."

"Art, c'mon." You feel the dread crawling up your throat, wishing you had left the bar sooner. Every word he says seems to pull you deeper into a past you've been trying to escape. Art has done nothing but throw you off your game all night.

"I miss you outside of tennis, too," he continues, his voice tinged with regret. "I miss our late-night walks, studying in the library. You remember those?"

"Of course I do."

"Tashi misses you, too," he says, and you can tell he's crossing a line, testing your patience. You can feel the corner of your mouth twitch, your eyes unable to meet his. "She tells me every night. She's always keeping up with your stats, watching all of your games, rewatching your old ones. She makes notes for you, how you could improve. She wants to coach you."

"Art, stop it," you finally snap, turning to face him. The night feels ruined, any semblance of peace shattered. Was this all some elaborate scheme against you? After all these years, is this how they repay you? Out of spite? Is that what it is, a way to get back at you because you somehow got it all, and Tashi's taking whatever she can scrape off from Art?

"I don't want her to coach me. And I highly doubt she wants to coach me either."

"I booked the hotel," he says suddenly, his voice softer, more sincere. "She doesn't know you're here. And I really think it will be good for you two to talk." He reaches into his pocket and pulls out a small piece of paper, placing it carefully on the bar in front of you. "Here's our room number. I'll be out tonight with some friends, so the room is yours till late. Just, don't kill each other or break anything if you fight."

"I'm not going—"

"She really does miss you," he interrupts, his eyes searching yours for any sign that you might understand, might relent.

You stare at the piece of paper, feeling its presence like a burning brand. Art stands up, hesitating for a moment as if he wants to say more but thinks better of it. "I mean it. Think about it," he murmurs before turning and walking away, his footsteps echoing in the hollow space of your mind.

You watch him go, each step he takes pulling at the threads of your carefully constructed facade. As he nears the entrance, your eyes follow him instinctively, and that's when you see her. Tashi. She's standing there, with her bags looking around with a familiar intensity, her eyes scanning the room until they lock onto yours.

You feel sick.

Meeting Art was a pleasant surprise; he makes your heart race and your cheeks burn. But Tashi makes your heart stop and your brain shut off.

She looks different—older, more mature, hair straight and cut to a mid-length but also a lighter colour—but still heartbreakingly familiar. Her eyes widen slightly as she recognizes you.

She opens her mouth as if to say something when Art stands next to her, pressing a kiss to her temple, but no words come out.

Your heart hammers in your chest.

The weight of her gaze is too much. You're the first to look away. You stand up abruptly, nearly knocking over your drink in the process. "Excuse me," you mutter to the bartender, slapping a couple of bucks on the counter. Your voice feels distant, and detached, as if it belongs to someone else.

You push through the crowd, your mind a chaotic whirl of emotions. You need air. You need space.

As you reach the elevator, you can feel Tashi's eyes still on you. But you keep moving, your footsteps quickening with each step. You need to focus on tennis. That's the only thing that's never let you down.

Tashi had once picked tennis over you, and now it was your turn to do the same.

You reach your room and close the door behind you, leaning against it as you finally let out the breath you've been holding. The walls seem to close in on you, and you slide down to the floor.

You need to remember why you're here. For the game. For the dream. And that has to be enough.

Only one problem.

You can't sleep.

Hours later, you find yourself in the hotel gym, the quiet hum of the machines the only sound in the stillness of the night. Your mind is racing, a chaotic swirl of thoughts and emotions you can't control. Desperate for an outlet, you hop on a treadmill and start running, hoping to exhaust yourself into some semblance of peace.

Anything is better than sitting in the hotel lobby, scouring the internet on the public computer for any proof of Art and Tashi's marriage while drinking wine straight from the bottle.

Art was right, it was a small wedding. There were almost no photos of it caught by the paparazzi, only articles upon articles talking about it, magazine covers and everything. God, how could you have missed this? How out of the loop were you?

There was only one photo posted, and it was from Tashi's Facebook and Instagram from less than a year ago; a picture of just her hand holding onto Art's, where you can see her wedding ring. There was no caption. But the photo had millions of likes.

You wonder if Patrick knew. He probably did. He stalks her account religiously and only recently started to tone it down. And then there's you, who had her blocked on everything since your last argument.

The music playing in your ears drowns out the world around you, a heavy beat pulsing as you hum along. Your eyes fixate on the rising numbers on the treadmill screen, sometimes glancing out the window at the city skyline, other times catching your silhouette in the glass reflection.

Sweat makes your clothes cling to you like a second skin, rolling down your spine in rivulets. You're still a little tipsy from your drinks, the taste lingering in your cheeks, but you think you're sober enough that a few more miles will drain it all out.

Art's words are burned into your mind. The wedding you were never invited to, how he suddenly wants to be friends again. You can see where he's coming from; tennis is lonely. You're lonely. You press the button to go faster, your legs burning as you push yourself harder, trying to escape the thoughts that chase you.

You don't hear the door click open, and it takes a few seconds for you to spot the reflection of someone walking behind you in the window's reflection, rolling out a pink yoga mat. But they don't step onto it, they don't move, and even worse, you catch their eye in the reflection.

Fuck.

It's Tashi Duncan.

Your heart lurches in your chest. You quickly look away, panic setting in. You turn your music up higher and make the treadmill run faster, the machine whirring louder in response. Your pulse races, not just from the exertion, but from the presence of the one person you can't bear to face right now.

In the corner of your eye, you see her approach you. When you hear her call out your name between songs, you pretend you can't hear her. You pretend to be captivated by the sight of the city at night, pretend that you're lost in the music as P!nk's voice blares into your ears, cursing out one of her old lovers.

You wonder how long you can keep the act up.

Tashi moves with a determination that you've always admired and feared. She walks around your treadmill, eyes locked onto you with a fierce intensity. Without hesitation, she reaches down and unplugs the machine from the wall, forcing it to power down abruptly.

Not long enough.

"What the fuck?" You huff, yanking out your earbuds. "What's your fucking problem?"

"You're my problem," she says, her voice steady, unyielding as she rolls her eyes.

"I haven't said a word to you."

"And that's my problem. I'm talking to you," Her gaze bores into yours, refusing to be ignored. You can see the resolve in her eyes, the same decisiveness that made her a force to be reckoned with on the court.

"I'm busy," you snap, and your breath comes in ragged gasps, both from the exertion and the emotional storm raging inside you. You feel trapped, cornered by the very person you’ve been trying to avoid.

You bite your tongue, stepping off the treadmill and walking around her when she steps in front of you. You make a straight line for your bag, watching her from the mirrors as she follows you closely.

"Can you listen?" It's more of a demand than an ask, "I just... Art told me what he did. He's a little shit, I'm sorry. You didn't deserve that. You have other shit to worry about."

You're taking long chugs from your water, staring at her without saying a word. Part of it is because you have nothing to say to her, and another is because you're afraid that if you speak, she'll see through you.

Tashi's eyes roam over you, lingering on your shorts and the way the wires from your earbuds snake from your iPod, under your tank, and peek out from under your sports bra. Her gaze is both appraising and filled with something unresolved between you. When you don't respond, she sighs. "You look great, by the way. On the court. You've changed your approach. You're vicious."

The compliment stings more than it soothes. You still don't say anything, letting the silence stretch between you like a chasm.

"...Or maybe you've always been. I haven't seen you in a long time. So a lot could've changed, I don't know."

You lower your bottle, swallowing the water. It feels cold as it runs down your throat, a stark contrast to the heat of your rising anger. You can't help the way your eyes drop to her hand when you pull your hair down from its ponytail. The sight of the ring on her finger feels like a punch to the gut.

She notices.

"We didn't want you to find out this way."

Your eyes snap up to hers. "And how was I supposed to find out?"

Tashi looks taken aback for a moment, her confident façade faltering. She takes a deep breath, as if bracing herself. "I don't know. Maybe we should've told you. Should've invited you. But I thought... I thought it would be easier for you if you didn't know. I didn't want to hurt you more than I already had."

Your laugh is bitter, devoid of any real amusement. "Easier?

"Look," Tashi begins, her voice tinged with a hint of impatience, "I'm not a fan of the way I ended things. But I think that keeping a grudge for this long is embarrassing. We were teenagers."

"You're right," you concede with a bitter chuckle, "it is embarrassing. But you know what's even more embarrassing?" Your voice rises, fueled by a mixture of frustration and hurt. "Having your husband come to me and tell me how much he misses me. And how you miss me. But you don't have the guts to tell me that yourself, do you? Do you miss me, Tashi?"

"Of course I miss you," she scoffs, her tone defensive. "You were my best friend. My serving partner. We played and won doubles together."

"Is that all I was to you?"

"Was there supposed to be anything more?"

There it is, the moment you've been dreading, the confrontation you've been avoiding. You can feel the familiar ache in your chest, "You know I fucking loved you, Tashi," you admit. "And yeah, whatever, everyone loved you. No one could get enough of Tashi Duncan. But you know damn well I loved you for more than just that."

"Loved?" She steps closer, her eyes searching yours. "You don't love me anymore?"

"No," you tell her. "I don't. I dropped out of your groupie a while ago."

"What do you love, then?" Her voice is almost a whisper, the distance between you closing.

"I love tennis," you confess, your gaze never leaving hers. "I love winning. Turns out I'm great at both. And I love that too. And people love me. That's more than you could ever give me. Or Art."

"Even Patrick?" The mention of his name is a sharp jab; she's trying to get under your skin.

"I don't know, you tell me." You're taunting her. And you love the way she falters for a split second. "You saw him at the Open last year, didn't you?"

The air drifting between you is almost palpable, shrinking smaller and smaller like it’s terrified of being trapped between you. "Listen," she says, her voice dropping lower, "I just came here to tie some loose ends. For Art's sake. He says It'll be good for me."

"Okay," you reply, seizing the opportunity to turn the conversation in your favour. Hook, line and sinker. "Is there anything else you want to get off your chest?"

Hook.

Tashi's eyes narrow slightly, but she takes the bait, her expression shifting to one of determination. "You raise your arm too high when you serve. You're gonna dislocate your shoulder one day."

"I bet you're waiting for the day I do."

"I can make you the best."

"Am I not already?"

Line.

"You're one of the best at most. But not the best. I'd be surprised if you bring back bronze. You're too short-tempered for silver. Let me coach you. I'll make sure you bring back gold."

"I don't need you," you say, the words catching in your throat.

"We both know you do," she whispers, her breath warm against your lips.

And sinker.

In that moment, everything else fades away, leaving only the two of you suspended in time. The words hang in the air, a silent challenge. You can feel the heat radiating from her, the closeness almost unbearable.

Without another thought, your lips crash together in a desperate kiss, a release of all the pent-up tension and longing that has simmered between you for far too long.

It's a whirlwind of heat and passion, each touch igniting a fire within you that threatens to consume everything in its path. Her hands are in your hair, pulling you closer, and you respond in kind, your body pressed against hers with a fierce urgency.

The kiss deepens a symphony of desire and desperation, all the words you couldn't say pouring into it with a fervour that borders on reckless abandon. You can feel yourself start to become absorbed into the bubble that is Tashi Duncan, it sucks you in, and it scares you, makes you feel as if you're sinking into the bottom of the ocean.

She grips the back of your neck, hard enough that her nails dig into the skin. Tashi waits for your gasp, and when you do, she pushes her tongue into your mouth, past your teeth until it collides with your own.

You're moaning, groaning into her mouth with the way she shoves you until your back hits the mirror behind you. You're arching into her at the way she fucking smiles against your lips at your reaction.

It's pathetic. You're pathetic. Almost in the same way Art is. You know it. She knows it. But in your defence, it's been a while since you've been kissed, it's been a while since someone's touched you this way, with heat and flavour. You're a little dizzy from it, cheeks flaring with embarrassment.

Tashi sucks your tongue into her mouth and you buck your hips against the thigh she's pressed between your legs.

There's a sweetness that lingers when she bites your lip, you wonder if she's wearing lipgloss, maybe chapstick. You hope she can't tell you've been drinking, that talking to Art made you spiral, that you've been bluffing since the moment she walked into the gym. Since the night she packed her things and told you she was leaving Stanford, her scholarship has no use since she can't play anymore.

When her hands run down your neck to your waist, gliding over the sweat on your skin, you can feel the cold touch of her wedding ring. It's frigid, making you shiver when Tashi starts to lick up the column of your throat. You almost feel bad about how wet you've become.

"Tashi..." you huff, her hands found their way to the base of your ass, guiding you to rock faster against her, only making you whine. Her grasp is tight, wanting. She pulls at your hips, slowly, dragging your crotch closer to hers and then pushing you back down on her leg. She repeats the motion a few times, rolling her own hips up into you a little more with each motion, and soon your muscles start to work so you can grind down onto her.

Tashi rewards you with a quiet moan—oh, you want her to do that again, you're going to make her do that again, louder and louder—and then, with a touch so light you could cry, she traces one hand over your hipbones and down to your pussy.

You can feel your stomach nearly drop, "You're married, Tashi."

She pulls away just to laugh at you. One finger traces your slit through your shorts, and you hear yourself moan. She raises her brows, a challenging look in her eyes, "Are you jealous?"

You try to scoff, but the cold glass of the mirror behind you squeaks when you shift. Even just this feather-light pressure through two layers of fabric, and every nerve ending in your body sets alight at once.

"What would Art say?" You try to say, your hair falling over your face as you try to collect some kind of morality. If you were caught, you can already imagine the headlines and the stories people would write about you. "What would he do if he found us right now?"

"I don't know," Tashi hums, leaning closer. She pretends to think as if the answer isn't obvious, teasing you a little when she gets close enough to kiss you but doesn't. "He'd probably ask to join."

You can't stop the way that thought alone makes you melt. You remember the jokes Patrick used to make back when you were in college, of you and Tashi being his wet dreams. You can almost imagine, how he would moan at everything, want everything, his whiney moans too similar to the ones he makes when he's on the court.

Tashi rubs gently at your pussy a few more times like she's exploring you, and then suddenly she taps right where your clit is. You cry out, and she sighs against your mouth. "You're so wet. You like it when I touch you?"

"Yeah, please... touch me." You nod. And in your head, you're telling yourself you only like it because you haven't been with anyone since Patrick left for his tour.

Tashi kisses you again, and it's a tangle of teeth and hands and smiles kept hidden, as you slip your fingertips beneath her shirt she starts to fumble with your waistband, and you're both angry and resentful and incredibly destructive, but it doesn’t matter yet.

Her fingers are clumsily slipping into your underwear and then she's there, her fingers are brushing right against your clit—you're so wet that her fingers brush right through your folds, gliding like silk, and by the time she reaches your hole, two fingers easily sink in right to the knuckle.

Tashi leaves you gasping and she teases you for it. "So sensitive," she taunts against your lips, pressing her thumb against your clit so she can see you squirm, pumping her fingers at an urgent pace to hear you moan. "So needy."

With each movement, she scissors her fingers a little, spreading you wider every time, and she starts to mouth at your neck with hot, wet kisses. "Do you like that, yeah? Am I making you feel good? I am, aren't I? I'm exactly what you need. C'mon say you want me. Tell me you need me, Ace."

"Maybe—" You're breathless, and the nickname has you tugging at her hair again, "Shit, I saw the way you made Art. He... oh god... he wouldn't be half the athlete without you. I also... I also wouldn't want to ruin my shoulder... while—while serving."

"I'm not talking about tennis."

For a moment, you worry that you've fallen for a trap, that you've said too much. You're vulnerable, a little drunk on lust and wine, and Tashi isn't stupid to not catch your sapphic crush on her since the two of you became friends, an old high school love that's never really disappeared, from slumber party kisses and how you've gawked at her, at her husband and even her ex-boyfriend.

"C'mon, Tash, you're always talking about tennis."

"Not this time."

You barely catch onto what she says. Your body feels like it's going through the most intense orgasm of your life, especially now that she's given up on pumping her fingers in favour of curling them in rapid beats against your g-spot, but you know that you're not even coming yet: you're close, though, judging by the way the room is spinning around you, and the pressure building in the pit of your stomach—"I think I'm close... oh, I don't—fuck—keep touching me like that."

She bites your neck until you say her name. You pull her hair until she moans. Her touch is blistering against your skin. She says your name in a breathy drawl like she's pleading with you, humouring you, wanting to take everything from you.

"Keep going, please, please don't stop," you all but shout, and Tashi continues the massaging movement right up on your g-spot: the positioning of her hand means the heel of her palm is dragging over your clit, and your hips are frantically grinding up into her hand—you're gonna come, the world feels like it's crashing down around you.

Every muscle in your body tenses up and through it all you hear Tashi whispering, come on, that's it, I've got you, come on, come on, and then you're coming—

Distantly, you can feel her fingers continue their movements inside of you, unrelenting—and the other hand keeps a firm grip on your hips, grounding you onto her lap—but other than that, all you know is the pleasure slamming into each nerve in your body, one by one and then all at once. A hot sting against your skin that reminds you of the sun whenever you're on the tennis court, deep into the game you've turned into the love of your life.

It can't have possibly been this long since the last time you've gotten laid, right?

Then, suddenly, you're back in reality. Tashi is heaving for breath against your shoulder and her fingers are back to a slow, steady pumping, in and out of your swollen pussy. "You're so pretty, you know that? No tennis talk."

You lean your head back against the mirror, a slow grin forming on your lips, "You don't think I'm pretty when I play."

"I think you're hot when you play."

You peek a glance at Tashi, meeting her eyes as she watches you, watching the way you catch your breath, skin shining against the fluorescent lights of the gym, similar to how you shine on the court. Yeah, you're a sight for sore fucking eyes.

Tashi takes slow, taunting steps back and away from you, and then she brings her fingers to her mouth and sucks, moaning around the digits, and through hazy eyes, you can see the most fucked-out look on her face just at the taste of your cum.

She licks her fingers clean—you feel your pussy clench down again at the sight—before opening her eyes, fixing you with an intense stare, and panting, "I'll be in my room," she rolls up her pink mat (which she never used) and picks up her bag, "I'm sure you know the number. I'm hoping you can return the favour and touch me or something. You know, before you leave in the morning."

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[jenosbigtoe]

what would happen if simp fwb haechan saw oc kissing at a party or something

mdni. nsfw 18+

pairing: fwb!lee haechan x reader

warnings: unprotected sex, creampies

“hey siri what’s the fastest, easiest, most painless way to die?”

he would see you making out with jaehyun at a party, sitting on his lap and grinding on his dick and all, and seriously would contemplate murder-suicide for a good sec. like why does that slick motherfucker jaehyun always get all the bitches? you’re literally his and everyone knows how down bad haechan is for you, so why would jaehyun even dare to put his grimy hands on you? he wouldn’t even confront you guys at first, he would just start drinking vodka straight from a bottle he found lying around.

texting mark and be like “just caught y/n cheating on me”

mark: “are y’all even dating”

haechan: “yes”

mark: “?when?”

haechan: “…okay actually no but-“

mark would later find his wasted ass on the balcony about to jump and have hold him back. he’d call you like “y/n come get this loser”. and you would hear haechan yelling in the back like “SHE’S FOR THE STREETS”

you’d stomp up stairs to collect him, finding him drunk and wasted out of his mind.

“no! leave me alone, you cheater! go back to sucking faces with that manwhore i don’t even care,” he whines and pouts, kicking and squirming around in your arms as you carried his ass to a random bed.

“stop being a brat, hyuck. you need to calm down. i’m missing out on good dick because of you,” you’d roll your eyes at your best friend’s childish antics.

haechan would look up into your eyes, his face red from all the drinking and lips jutted out from pouting so hard. “baby, you know you’re mine. why do you need to go to anyone else for dick when you have me in your back pocket?” fat tears would well up into his eyes as his lips quivered.

your face softened as you gave him a crushing hug. “don’t cry, hyuck. m sorry; i didn’t know you saw. but we’re not exclusive, yknow?”

he buried his face into your neck, deeply inhaling your sweet your sweet smell. you could feel a few tears on your skin. “don’t remind me.”

you stayed in that position for a good while, as haechan sniffled and sniffed against your neck. he was quiet for a bit, which made you think he fell asleep, when all of a sudden he pinned you down on the bed before you knew what was going on. he pressed his body against yours, using his weight to hold you down, and grabbed both of your hands and held them above your head. he used his thigh to rub and grind against your already throbbing pussy.

“m tired of this. m tired of you playing with my feelings like this. sucking face with one of my guy friends, rubbing it in that you’re not my girlfriend yet. the reality is: you’re fucking mine. mine. my girl. everything about you is mine and it’s been this way since we met when we were kids and you were the sweetest girl on the playground.” he whispered lowly into your ear and licked your earlobe as he did this. he reached one of his hands down into your pants and started playing with and teasing your little pussy.

you whined and bucked against his hand. “hyuck”

he took his hand out and slapped your pussy. “ah. let me finish, slut. you’re fucking mine and i’m gonna prove it to you. no one will ever make you feel like i do. you drive me crazy and i’m so obsessed with you. i love you, baby. i have always loved you and i will prove how much i love you and this pussy.”

your poor pussy was so sore and bruised the next day you couldn’t even walk or sit right. and he refused to wear a condom and finished inside you multiple times that night. oh yeah, and you guys came out as official the next day.

[soobinologisttt]

playing with fire - yang jungwon

pairing ☆ jungwon x f. reader

warnings ☆ dom!jungwon, (im a sucker for doms), sub!reader, cunnilingus, cheating (reader and reader's exbf), in exbf's bed (lolol), praise (!!!), jungwon is a sweetheart, ft. ryujin of itzy and jaemin of nct

word count ☆ 4k

a/n: summer break !!! i can finally post more :) i am taking summer courses which sucks tho :(

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

usually, you love a good party. the drinks, the way drunk girls unite while in line for the bathroom. it became one of your favorite things about college.

but it wasn't always this way.

during your first year, you absolutely despised parties. opting out to curl up with a good book or tv show.

it was your second year when you found your love for parties.

your roommates begged you to go to a "beginning of the school year" party. then they dressed you like you were their doll.

3 shots later, you were all ready to go. (you wanted to pregame in fear of getting spiked at the party)

when you saw yourself in the mirror, you could not see the nerdy girl underneath.

short black skirt, tight white corset, boots that gave you at least two inches of height, and smoky makeup up with lashes.

your breast sat pretty, your ass was basically out, and your hair was straightened. straying away from the normal curls.

this was way out of your comfort zone but you liked it. feeling, for once in your life, hot.

of course, once you were actually at the party the confidence you had dissipated. you felt self-conscious, as you stood in the corner of the room.

you watched as people danced with friends, boyfriends, girlfriends, sneaky links. seeing them dance so openly and freely made you feel like an imposter.

you looked down into your red cup full of sprite. it wasn't even halfway finished.

you frowned as you looked back up. scanning the room for your roomates, you saw them having a good time.

sipping drinks and flirting with a group of guys that you've never seen.

that's when a pair of eyes found yours.

your eyes met his dark eyes and you felt your heart flutter.

your eyes dart to the floor in a panic as your cheeks heated up.

you never had gotten attention from boys, especially guys that were as hot as him.

he was tall, a good 5'10, lean, pretty face, dark eyes, jet black hair that looked soft to the touch and full lips that curve up into a cupids bow.

you could only imagine how they would feel.

you pulled yourself out of your thoughts and raced to pull out your phone.

focusing intently on your phone, you pull up your shared groupchat and start to type.

you only got to third word when you saw a body enter your eye sight.

you looked up to see who it is and it's the guy that was staring at you.

your heart was beating out of your chest. you've only ever read about guys this beautiful. but now you were in the presence of one.

you were awestruck like you just saw god.

he was dressed in the most basic fit, a backwards hat, a white tee, black adidias pants with stripes, and a white pair of adidas.

"hey, i've never seen you hear before." he gave you the most gut churning smile.

his long dimples catched your eyes like a moth to a flame.

"yeah, my roommate dragged me here and then disappeared." you bit your bottom lip.

"well, i can keep you company for the time being," he took your empty hand into his, leading you to the kitchen.

"what are we doing?" you question as you see where he is leading you.

"to get a drink." he smiled.

"what's your name?" you asked as he pulls you along.

"i'm na jaemin," he smirked.

that's when you knew you were in deep shit.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

now, your stood across the room from him just like how it started. glaring at him as if you were a hunter stalking its prey.

you know he feels your gaze. choosing to ignore it instead for some girl. the girl being one of your ex-roommates. the same one that brought you to a party in the first place.

you weren't surprised at this revelation. you knew she was known for being a homewrecker.

even going as far as sleeping with a professor. leading to his divorce with his wife.

so when you found the sext's between your boyfriend and ex-roommate, you didn't even flinch. she's known for this.

but, jaemin doesn't know that you know. all day you've been going around like everything is okay between you two.

just like is started, you plan to end it that way too.

he wants to play, you can play too.

while dressing up, you made sure to put on something that would turn heads.

dressing yourself in a tiny black skirt, red corset, and your favorite black heeled boots.

wearing the most dramatic makeup, a smokey red look with eyeliner that could cut.

nevertheless he doesn't even give you a second look. instead his focus is on the girl in front of him. looking her up and down while smirking.

you feel your face get hot, the anger has you crushing the red cup in your hand. nearing spilling all of you're sprite and vodka.

your hands releases before anything can spill.

instead you take a big gulp, nearly draining your cup.

you continue watching as the alcohol runs down, basking in the feeling of the warm substance reaching your stomach.

the feeling calms you. taking your mind away from the breaking heart in your chest.

you close your eyes and take a deep breath. containing the tears that you've been holding back.

when you open your eyes, you see him flashing his gummy smile at the women in front of him.

you are so over it. you are so ready to go over there and talk your shit.

not only to him, but to her too.

just as you were getting ready to stalk towards them, you feel a pair of hands on your waist.

you yelp as you jump to turn around.

"oh i didn't mean to scare you," your best friend, ryujin apologizes.

"it's okay," you turn back around as you feel your eyes start to water.

she quickly follows your gaze to where your almost ex-boyfriend is flirting with your ex-roommate.

she knows everything. as soon as your found out, she was there. threatening to cut his dick off and shove it down his throat.

at the time that made you laugh, but now it makes you want to cry. you wish she could do it without getting charged, but unfortunately that is frowned upon.

you put your head down to shield the forming tears from your best friend.

"forget about him," she makes her way to your front.

"i am trying," you pull your head up to look her in the eyes.

her hands make their way to your shoulders, shaking you lightly.

when you see her soften smile, you nearly break down.

"we are going to dance." she pulls you into a hug before pulling back and grabbing your wrist.

you hurry to gulp down your drink as she pulls you along.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

you end up between ryujin and a random guy.

your back is to him as you scan the room to find your cheating boyfriend.

you didn't realize how close you were until he leans over you and whispers into your ear.

"what are you looking at?" he follows your eyes to were you have been looking, "you've been staring over there all night."

you roll your eyes, "my boyfriend is cheating on me with my ex roommate."

you turn around to face him, faced with on of the most beautiful boys you have ever seen.

you thought the same about jaemin, but this guy topped him by a lot.

as tall (maybe taller) than jaemin, wide cat light eyes, that gleam a

you couldn't help but notice how pretty his eyes are. a dark chocolate color that has you buckling at the knees just looking at them.

you immediately freeze, face turning red for the second time tonight.

"i'm sorry for throwing that all on you,"

"no, it's okay. i'm jungwon," he greets you.

that name sounds so familiar but you can't put your finger on it. you crinkle your face as you attempt to recall.

"jungwon... i know that name from somewhere,"

"we had a project together last year. over the pros of solar power." he tilts his head slightly and smiles, his dimple on full display.

his smile caused the butterfiles to unleash from their cage in your chest. you attempt to lock them back up, but instead they make their way down to your cunt.

you slightly rub your thighs together as you feel your underwear dampen.

"oh yeah," you smile back.

⋆⋅☆⋅⋆

during the night, you dance with ryujin and jungwon. even going as far as to grind on the both of them.

hoping to get a reaction for your cheating boyfriend but instead getting the attention of his friends. glaring at you like you were in the wrong.

you couldn't care less, flipping them off multiple times as you grind your ass on the two people surrounding you.

as the night goes on you start to forget about jaemin. enjoying your time with jungwon and ryunjin, laughing and dancing to the music.

sometime around 1am, ryujin excuses you and her to go to the bathroom.

while standing in line you catch a glimpse of jaemin leaving his room with your ex-roommate, attempting to hide her behind him.

"where have you been all night?" he questions accusingly, as the girl sneaks past you both.

"i don't know, where have you been all night?" you scolf, crossing your arms.

"looking for you," he rolls his eyes.

"i was so easy to spot, ask your friends," you smirk, "or maybe ask your little fuck buddy," you nearly laugh.

"what?" jaemin squints his eyes are he plays dumb.

"oh you thought you were being sneaky?" you laugh this time, "might want to tell her that, she has been eyeing me the whole night. i think she wants me next. too bad i don't want your sloppy seconds." you wink.

you watch as his face turns a deep red. making you want to laugh even more. as he opens his mouth to respond, you hear the bathroom door open.

it is your turn for the bathroom.

"come on y/n," ryujin pulls you into the bathroom with her before you could finish going off on him.

"thank you," you hug her.

you probably would of pushed him down the flight of stairs next to you guys if she didn't pull you into the bathroom.

"no problem," she smiles at you as she pulls back.

after you both pee, you decide to go to check jaemin's room. sepecting that they were fucking while you were dancing.

you know that is it going to hurt you but you just need to prove it. your noisy personailty getting ahold of you.

when you both exit the bathroom, you top her. stepping off the side so the line can keep going.

"you can go down first," you tell her, "i have something i have to do." you nod to the room jaemin and his mistress came out of.

"okay, call me if you need me," she smiles, "the offer still stands, i can cut it off and stick it down her month instead."

you shake your head with a chuckle.

"i need you out of jail, who else is gonna threaten people for me."

she rolls her eyes, "fine, well text me. i'll be downstairs."

you give her a tiny nod before turning to walk down the dark hall.

when you get closer to jaemin's room, you see jungwon enter it.

you feel your stomach flip.

"why is he in there?" you question.

you conutine to stalk towards the room and with one step at a time, you feel your heart drop.

by the time you open the door, your heart is in your stomach.

the light on jaemin's desk is the only light on in the room. casting a orangish yellow color within the room.

"what are you doing in here?" you ask the boy that is leaning on jaemin's desk. the very same desk that you do homework on. or atleast did.

you shake the thought out of your head.

"waiting for you," jungwon smiles.

"how did you know i was.... you know what nevermind, you can you help?"

"sure, what do you need me to do?"

you look down at your shoes that are killing your feet.

"i'm looking for anything that proves that they were.. having sex." you wince at the heartbreaking thought.

he quickly moves to look around the bed as you rummage through jaemin's drawers.

knowing him, you thought he would hide it somewhere.

just like how he hide his secret side piece.

"like this?"

you turn around in a flash and to see jungwon holding the evidence.

a ripped condom packet.

you feel the tears form.

"fuck." you quickly wipe the few tears that are rolling down your cheeks.

he looks at you with pure eyes. watching as you wipe your tears.

he starts to walk towards you, "y/n, you know that he -"

he stops as you dash to the bathroom, feeling bile rise from your stomach.

you dry heave into the trash, only to find the final conformation that he indeed slept with her.

the condom, lazily tied and tossed for the world to see.

you feel your world crash down around you. you back up to the wall behind you. sliding down it as the tears slide down your face.

"he doesn't deserve you, y/n." jungwon sits down next to you.

"i know, jungwon. but it still hurts," you pull your knees to your chest and put your head on them.

jungwon takes this chance to move in front of you. pulling your head up to look into your eyes.

his brown eyes matching his dark brown hair, both glimmering in the bathroom light.

"can i take your mind off of it?" he wipes your tears.

"how?" you search his eyes for a clue to why he is being so nice to you.

"like this," he leans foward and smashes his lips onto yours.

you kiss back, feeling his warm lips against yours. not in lust but in want, need, yearning.

placing his hands on your cheeks he pulls you into a deeper kiss.

he pushes his tongue lightly against your lips. asking for entrance. you slightly part your lips and he pushes his tongue in.

he tastes like cranberry, probably from the cranberry vodka he was drinking.

you moan at the taste, sending a shock to your now aching cunt.

you took this time to push your tongue into his mouth, exploring it, memorizing, and craving more of it.

you don't even know how long you have been kissing when he pulls back.

you could care less as he rest his forehead on yours.

"fuck, you have no idea how long i've wanted to do that." his dimples reval themselves as he smiles..

"really?" you look down at your shoes.

"yes," brings his pointer fingers to your chin and lifts up your head.

"jungwon?" you question as your eyes flicker from one eye to the other.

"yes gorgeous?"

"can we get off the floor? my heels are hurting my feet." you chuckle.

"oh yeah," he moves quickly to get up.

once he is on his two feet, he holds out his hand to help you up.

thinking that he is just gonna help you up, you take it. but instead you end up around him.

legs circling him and arms incasing his neck.

your faces are inches apart when he utters.

"is this okay?" jungwon asks, pulling his face back a little to watch you answer.

you feel youself blush at the way his breath tickled your lips.

"yes, this is okay." you smile up at him.

he takes this as a okay to walk you out of thr bathroom. sitting you on jaemin's desk, he quickly makes his way to look the door.

"if you want to stop at any time, tell me okay?" he states as he takes big strides towards you.

you nod with a little smile. already feeling a little daze from the way he is talking to you.

"baby, use your words. i need to know that you understand," he reaches you and pulls you to the edge of the desk. pulling you closer to him.

"i understand jungwon," as soon as the words left your mouth, he lunges at your neck. soft lips leaving a trail of soft kissed and love bites.

"atta girl." jungwon praises you.

you feel the ache between your thighs worsen as he speaks.

"if i was your man, i would treat you better." he mutters on your neck.

"jungwon," you moan as he places one hand on your waist and the other on your left tit. pulling roughly on your corset, letting your breasts out of the tight garment.

"you like that? my hands all over you in his bedroom?" jungwon teases.

"mhm, i like it so much," you throw your head back in bliss.

his fingers pinch and squeezes your nipple making you jump and whimper.

"fuck y/n, you're so amazing." he grunts.

you close your thighs around jungwon, core aching in need as he continues talking.

"i would make you so happy y/n," jungwon starts, "baby, you would never feel the way he makes you feel,"

he brings his hand down from your tit to your clit. outlining the little bead as you arch into his hand.

you throw you head back, making it easier for him to have access to your neck.

he sucks roughly at your soft spot.

between the feeling of his lips on you and the noises that are filling the room, you could no longer hold back.

"fuck, jungwon." you moan loudly.

"you're so perfect y/n." he groans.

your fingers claw at his clothed back, wanting more.

"can i leave a mark?" he asks against your neck.

you nod as he starts to suck and nip at your skin savagely.

the sensation of his lips against your neck and his fingers circling you clit but not touching, you feel like you were going to combust of need.

"jungwon," you try to move your neck.

but, he doesn't let you move instead he places the hand from you waist on the back of your neck.

"please, please," you grind into his finger, finally getting it to touch your clit.

you roll your eyes in pleassure.

"what do you need baby?" he mumbles against your neck.

"i need you."

he pulls back and brings his hand from your clit to your chin. admirring his work before looking into your eyes.

"are you sure?" his bright brown eyes look at your wereily.

"please, i really want this," you smash your lips onto his.

you feel his arms embrace you before picking you up and making way to jaemin's bed.

you know this is wrong but you couldn't care less. jaemin cheated on you... and you want this.

jungwon lays you on your back on the edge of jaemin's bed.

"god, you're so gorgeous," he pulls back to look at you.

you blush and shy away, turning your head.

he pulls your head back to look at him.

"you don't have to cover up for me," he smiles at you.

"okay," you look into his big brown eyes.

he makes his hands down to your skirt.

"can i leave it on?"

fuck.

"yes," you whine.

he moves to his knees and kisses up your thighs to your underwear.

you gasp as jungwon's teeth latch onto the thin fabic of your underwear. you sit up on your elbows to watch him drag them off of you with his teeth.

you can feel the smooth surface of his teeth as he slowly drags them against your skin.

his hands are on the side of both of your thighs as he looks up at you with dark, lustful eyes.

once your underwear are past your thighs, jungwon finishes pulling them down quickly.

"lay just like that baby." jungwon mumbles as he lightly pushes you back down.

when you're back down, he starts to kiss up your thighs.

his hands return to the side of you as he continues to kiss up your thighs slowly until he makes it to your stomach.

"you're so pretty," he growls onto your stomach.

"jungwon, please." you arch.

he slides his right hand up your thigh to your wet heat.

you shudder at the feeling, feeling the sensation of your pulsating cunt.

the soft tips of his fingers prodding at your entrance.

"please what?" he smirks against your stomach.

"touch me," you moan as he slides his finger in.

"that's all you had to say y/n," he slides back onto his knees.

before you could even think of something to say, his mouth connects with your clit. sucking harshly as you whimper.

"fuck jungwon," he slides another finger into your wet pussy.

fingers pumping into you as he sucks on your numb clit.

"jungwon," you heave as he speads up his pace.

his tongue swirls around your clit as he continues to finger you.

"i am going to cum," you moan, "please keep going, just like that." you run your hands through his hair.

he doesn't stop as you grip his hair tightly.

you start to feel that build up of pleasure that jaemin could never bring to you.

"fuck, i am so so so close,"

jungwon moans against your clit and you break.

arching you back as you chant his name.

he slows down his motions and lifts off of you, quickly coming up to check on you.

"are you okay?" jungwon smiles with his red lips and puffy lips.

"yes, i am more than okay." you smile at him in a daze, "this is the first time in awhile that a guy has made me cum." you blush.

"glad i could help," he smiles again before going down to pick up your underwear.

"what are you doing?" you sit up on your elbows.

"dressing you. i don't want your roommate to worry." he helps you to pull up your underwear.

"she'll be okay," you smile as he stands.

"i want it to be special." he looks down at you.

"what?" you look back up at him.

"I want my first time with you to be special." he explains.

"why?"

"because, this is something i've been dreaming about. i do not want it to be in the same room that you're cheating ex lives in. you deserve so much better." he pulls you up and looks into your eyes.

you blush as you look down at the floor.

"is that okay with you?" jungwon brings his hand to your chin and guides it so that you are looking at him.

his eyes as wide as a full moon. glaring at you with a sparkle that has you wanting to drop to your knees.

"yes," you kiss him, jungwon kissing you back with more passion than you thought a human could ever have.

he pulls back after about a minute, "let's get you home."

you nod as he grabs your hand and leads you to the door.

as soon as you open it, your ex is standing there.

"what the fuck are you doing with my girlfriend?" he nearly screams.

"doing what you couldn't," jungwon smiles innocently, "making her cum."

you chuckle as jungwon pulls you though the party.

eyes are all on you both but you couldn't care less. for the first time in a long time you feel wanted. cherished.

you look around for your bestfriend but don't see her. pulling out your phone you see her text.

i went home, text me (jungwon texted me ;))

"i can drive you home." he says as you both step out into the cold.

"i would love that," you smile up at him from his right side.

"alright," he slings his arm around you and kisses your forehead, "let's go."

[lilg05]

Scotty doesn’t Know

Warnings: Cheating; Fingering; Pure smut; Swearing.

Pov: Your boyfriend doesn’t know that he isn’t meeting your needs and paige is.

Here you are again another sunday night your boyfriend thinks your staying at paige’s for a “study session”.

“Fuck baby just like that.” Paige says as she pushes your head down on her strap causing you to gag which makes Paige even more turned on. Paige then pulls your head up from her make shift ponytail. “Fits to perfect in your mouth doesn’t it baby.” She says while her thumb it playing with your swollen lips.

She lays you down on the bed and starts kissing your neck.

"Please Paige." You whine.

"What do you need baby."

"Need your strap please."

"Yeah baby need this cock in you" she asks "Is Scottys this big?" Suddenly plunging her dildo inside you.

Sad but true confession Paiges strap actually is bigger than scotty which makes you feel bad, but god when paige thrusts into you with the force and drive she has ots hard not go come instantly.

"Fuck baby you close?" Paige asks like she can feel you clenching around her.

"Yes paige dont stop so close."

"Fuckkkkkkkkk." Paige exaggerates as she thrusts into your wet warm and welcoming pussy.

"Ah shit im cumming!" you scream as you have one of the best orgasms.

“Yeah just like that baby did so good for me.” Paige says walking you through your orgasm.

Paige makes sure you’re okay and then runs to the bathroom to get a wash cloth to clean you off. She then shoots it into her hamper and slides under the covers with you.

________________________________________

Paige’s Pov

Scotty thinks she’s out shopping meanwhile she’s under me and i’m not stopping. Everything about her is perfect the way her boobs bounce when I thrust into her or the way her brows furrow when I rub my clit against hers. It amazes me that Scotty doesn’t know how to please her.

“Fuck Paige so good to me.” she whines

“Yeah baby am I the only one who can makes you needy like this?”

“Yes, best i’ve ever had.”

“Fuck your so wet.”

“Only for you babe.”

I start to grind against her harder chasing my orgasm. I lean my head down and kiss her causing her so let out a soft moan.

“Fuck Paige i’m gonna cum please don’t stop.” you say softly.

“I’m so close ma at the same time okay?”

“Yes baby.”

I let out a guttural moan and so does y/n as you both simultaneously cum. I clean us up and we lay together.

________________________________________

Your pov

Paige is fucking you from behind when you get a phone call.

“It’s Scotty.”

“Answer it.” she says while thrusting into you.

“Hello?” you stutter out trying not to moan as Paige picks up her paste.

“Hey babe what are you doing?” Scotty asks from the other side of the phone.

“Paige and I are hanging out at the gym.” You muster out. Paige takes this as a sign to pull out and start kitten licking your pussy. You try your hardest but you let out a tiny sigh of relief this being caught by Scotty.

“What was that?” He asks concern and confusion laced in his voice.

“N-nothing I finished my cycle on the treadmill.

“Oh okay well i’ll see you later for dinner right?”

“Of course” you cringe before saying this next sentence knowing you don’t mean it. “love you.”

“Love you to honey.” He replies and hangs up the phone.

“Good girl stayed so quiet for me, I didn’t even have to punish you.”

“Thank you.”

“You want a reward baby?”

“Yes please.”

Paige then flips you over onto your back and she starts to eat you out like it’s casual. He hands claw at the sides of your thighs as you struggle you keep your legs open. Paige’s tounge is teasing your hole. Not even a few minutes later Paige is making you cum and she laps up your juices like it’s her last meal.

________________________________________

Paiges pov

It’s now Scotty’s birthday and the men’s and women’s basketball team and a few extras were invited to his birthday dinner. Y/n is wearing a mesh see through black long sleeve and a mini denim skirt. Scotty sits at the end of the table then it’s y/n and across from her it’s scotty’s bestfriend Jason next to Y/n is me and then Azzi is sat across from me. Azzi, Y/n, and I are all talking while Jason talks to his friends, Azzi excuses herself to use the restroom.

“You look so beautiful.” I whisper into her ear.

“Thank you Paige.”

“Wanna fuck you so bad.”

This comment causes her face to heat up I reach mg hand under the table and run it up her thigh closer and closer to her heat.

“Is that what you want Y/n/n” I ask “want me to fuck you on your boyfriend’s birthday when he’s only a few feet away.

“Please Paige.” you whisper into her ear.

“What is it ma I need to know what do you want?”

“Need you to finger me please.”

“Okay baby but you gotta be quiet and secretive, okay?”

“Okay.” She mutters out.

From anyone’s view it just looks like we’re talking since everyone is at the further end of the table. Mean while i’m fucking her with my fingers under the table. Y/n turns over and looks into my eyes and almost leans in to kiss me but I give her a warning look knowing she can’t get caught.

“Doing so good for me baby.”

“Don’t stop.” she whispers.

“Your so wet does this turn you on me fucking you when your boyfriend is only a few feet away from us?” I ask feeling her clench around my fingers. My thumb starts to make figure eights on her bundle of nerves. She leans over and moans into my ear letting me know she’s gonna cum soon.

“I’m cumming Paige fuck.” she moans out quietly.

I feel y/n cum on my fingers as I slow my motions down to help her calm herself so she can go clean up in the bathroom. Just as she about to leave Scotty comes up to us and asks if we’re all good.

“I’m okay I think Y/n was about to go to the bathroom.” I reply.

“Hmm okay you okay baby?” He asks Y/n.

“Yeah i’m fine I need to use the bathroom though so excuse me.”

Y/n returns only a few minutes later as everyone is getting ready to order their food. We all finish eating we head out to the bar. Jason comes over with shots for everyone some people didn’t drink theirs so Scotty decided to. It’s a few hours later and Scotty is on his 5th shot and 3rd beer so you could say he’s a bit intoxicated.

“Come dance with me baby.” He asks.

“I’m okay Scotty go hangout with your friends.”

“But I wanna dance with you, you’re always with Paige why don’t you come hangout with me.”

“Scotty stop we already talked about this Paige and I are friends nothing more nothing less okay?”

“Then why can’t you come dance with me.”

“Because Scotty your drunk and your annoying when your drunk.”

“Fine i’ll go find another bitch to dance with.”

“Good let me know which one so she can find someone else to please them.”

“What’s that supposed to mean.”

“Scotty i’m sorry to burst your bubble but you dick game could use a little more work.”

“What are you talking about you cum everytime we fuck.”

“Yeah cause I imagine your someone else.”

“Who!”

“Take a long and hard guess.” she tells him while pulling up our hands that are tangled with one another.

“Fuck I knew I should have never let you hang out with her.” he yells and then turns his attention to me “Fuck you Paige I’m gonna tell everyone.”

“Scotty” I look at him “Everybody knows you’re the only one who doesn’t.”

Y/n then pulls me out of the booth leaving Scotty there by himself with his mouth agape.

“Welp I guess Scotty knows now.” she chuckles out while i lean in to kiss her softly.

Sorry if this is bad i didn’t know how to write the ending😭🙏🏻😚

[ham1lton]

─── WE CAN’T BE FRIENDS (WAIT FOR YOUR LOVE)

pairing: max verstappen x driver!reader

warnings: 18+ content - [oral f. receiving]. mentions of injuries. slight mention of cheating. toxic relationships. a lot of flashbacks, be prepared.

summary: you both grew up together as fellow drivers and the relationship always toed the line from friendship until something more. until a bad accident on the track damages your relationship beyond repair.

author’s note: remember this is an au so things may not be 100% accurate to real life events. don’t be surprised if anyone is acting ooc.

want to be updated when i post? join my taglist!

part one | part two | part three.

[ we can’t be friends / but i’d like to just pretend ]

FIFTEEN YEARS AGO.

sometimes you feel like the loneliest girl in the world.

you sit down on the damp grass and start to play around with the green strands as a means of distracting yourself.

as the only girl in your current group, the boys would barely want to co-exist with you. let alone spend precious play time entertaining someone like you.

this meant that a lot of the time, you were alone. when you told your father at nine years old, that you wanted to be a formula one driver one day, he patted your head and smiled benignly at you.

“you can do whatever you’d like kiddo. just be prepared for the weight that comes with it.”

the weight would never feel as heavy as it did when you were excluded from the group.

you’d already exhausted all your entertainment options. you looked across the field to see all the boys playing with each other, roughhousing and kicking a football about. you had finished your book, you hadn’t been allowed an ipod until you were at least sixteen as your mother had warned and now you were bored.

until someone came and sat next to you.

you look up to see a boy that you knew vaguely. the one that had just beat you to narrowly win the go karting race. he looks at you and smiles, sheepishly.

“is it okay if i sit here?”

you nod. you didn’t have the luxury to turn away company. his arm was bruised, as you look at the motley of blue and purple on his fair skin. he sees you looking and hides it, laughing awkwardly.

“it’s nothing. the guys are just rough. that’s why i’m here.”

“i’m y/n.”

“i know.” he says. when you look at him blankly. he stammers again. “i know, i know because we race together a lot. i’m max. i’m not a stalker. i don’t think so anyways.”

“i didn’t believe you were. i just didn’t think you’d know who i was.”

“you’re really good. i always have to keep a look out for the competition.”

“thanks.” it was something about his matter of fact statement that made the warmth spread through your body. if the best thought you were good, that had to mean something right? maybe the sacrifices were worth it.

“no problem.”

you didn’t say anything else after that, but you knew you’d found a kindred spirit within him. the loneliness didn’t seem so lonely when he was there.

SEVEN YEARS AGO.

“hey maneater.” a tall guy with dark hair leaned over and grinned boyishly at you. “saw that race, you were good.”

“i try.” you smile, chagrined. you hated parties. you hated clubs. you hated anything that put you in the path of men like this. the ones that were oily and greasy and would slip out of your grasp whenever you wanted them.

ever since you had started racing actual cars, and beating records that had been in place for years. the media had given you a nickname, ‘maneater’. max had laughed when he saw the news spread and when you jokingly tried to bite him, you both ignored the shiver that went through his body.

he had already started your dream. he had been a rookie driver for about a year when you still were working your way up. a small part of you resented him. was he simply the better driver or was he deemed so by everyone else?

max comes up to you, face flushed with laughter and alcohol as he he wraps an arm around your waist and buries his face in your neck.

“y/n. i’m tired.”

thankful for the distraction, you mouth a pretend apology to the random man and move your position to a more comfortable one. max always smelt the same, you couldn’t pinpoint the smell but it was always something so undeniably max that it took everything not to intertwine you both together.

“i did tell you to cool it with the drinks.”

“but i won. i deserve to celebrate.”

“sure you do.” you hum, stroking a hand through his slightly sweaty hair. “tomorrow you won’t think this is much of a celebration though.”

he turns up to look at you. eyes wide as he looks at you, as if he’s seeing you for the first time. you smile down at him.

“it’s always a celebration when you’re here.”

“is that so?”

he nods. settling his head down on your exposed thigh as your dress had slightly rode up.

“if you win more races, that’ll just give us an excuse to celebrate more huh?”

FOUR YEARS AGO.

you had finally made it. you were going to be a formula one driver. you had done every stage of celebratory measures. you cried in happiness for your baby self. you called all your family members up, you called your friends and you called max. max insisted on sending a massive bouquet of flowers and a cake around. even though now technically you’d be rivals, he said it wouldn’t change anything.

you swore it wouldn’t either.

SIX MONTHS AGO.

it had been at the abu dhabi grand prix when the incident happened. it started as how every race did. you arrived, you prepped for the race, you interacted with fans and followed whatever inane social media trend your team made you do. you did your pre-race rituals, and listened to your playlist.

the race shouldn’t have been too difficult. you were feeling confident. when you signed a little girl’s poster for you, it made you more excited to go out on the track and make history again.

when max gets competitive, he gets nasty. you knew that. you had always known that. so when you’re leading the race and a car comes hurtling towards you and causing a collision that sent your car spinning off the track, you had a sickly feeling in the pit of your stomach that it was him.

so after you woke up in hospital, as your parents spoke to the doctors. you went through your social media, seeing the crash splashed everywhere. it was trending on three social media sites. the photos of your unconscious body being wrangled from the car by paramedics had been posted by many big figures with prayers. for you.

(“ladies and gentlemen, this is a dark day for motorsport. our hearts go out to y/n and her family.”)

your father came in, his mouth set in a firm line. he looked at you and his eyes were sad.

“hey kiddo. you’re awake. i’m glad.” he smoothed some hair away from your face. you knew he was hiding something from you but you weren’t sure if you should press.“the doctor said you’re going to have to sit out this season. possibly the next too. the crash left you with too many internal injuries. you’re going to need more time to recover.”

you couldn’t move. you couldn’t breathe. you could only listen to the static of the small television in your room. the sound of your heartbeat and the sound of your dreams cracking in half.

“no.”

“no? honey, you can’t. the doctor won’t be able to sign you off.” your mother places a warm hand on yours. “i’m sorry but we need to focus on getting you better. you’re lucky you didn’t die.”

“if i can’t race, i might as well be dead.” you want to scream. to cry. to punch something. to punch someone. “no. you can’t stop me. i’ll drag myself in the seat if i have to.”

“your team has already signed you off honey.” your mother looks upset at your face. “they said to focus on getting stronger again. you’ll bounce back.”

“NO!” you screamed. “i’ve worked my whole life for this shit and he took it away from me? no. no! no, no, no, no.”

you start to sob. your whole body curls in on itself as tears flow uncontrollably down your cheeks. your parents attempt to console you but what use is it? you’ve lost your first love.

you don’t even notice max standing behind the door.

SIX YEARS AGO.

you find yourself in the awkward position of being max’s date at some charity gala. you find this demeaning but max says it’s a chance to get your name and face out there. interact with the higher ups or something along those lines. he very clearly didn’t acknowledge your introverted tendencies when he said that.

the dress that you bought, hangs loosely around your legs. it’s cinched in at your middle to give the illusion of an hourglass figure. your body has been hardened by all the workouts and you desperately needed a night to dress up. yet, when you get the wrong sort of attention, you start to regret it.

(“you haven’t gotten a boyfriend yet honey. are you not into guys?” your mother had asked one night, as she helped you peel vegetables. your mother had never been a tactful person, but still, you spit out the carrot piece that you had been chewing on in shock.

“no! i mean i am. i am. i’m just, i’m focusing on me.”)

the truth was that you were in love with your best friend and it could never happen. he had a girlfriend for starters, you were attempting to claw your way into a man’s club and you knew that meant you couldn’t date any of the guys without the media hyper focusing on it.

you could imagine all the headlines if you’d threw caution to the wind and dated max. they’d all go after you and not after him. you thought for a moment if you could handle it. you knew you couldn’t.

you wanted max but you doubted it was mutual. you wanted max but it’d never happen, it could never happen. as long as you wanted a career, you couldn’t have the guy.

he walks up to you, grinning as he turns to the bartender and orders your favourite.

“what are you smiling about?”

“nothing. just, happy you’re here.” he hands you your drink and clinks them together. “i missed you.”

“i’m here. i’m always here.”

“so? i miss you even when you’re here. i think about when you won’t be here and i get upset. i’m thinking of glueing us together.”

“wouldn’t be very helpful when we drive our cars.”

“we’ll figure something out.” he takes a sip of his glass. thinking to himself for a moment. you wish for a moment you can read his thoughts. is he thinking about you? about the dress in his favourite colour? the fact you hired a makeup artist for tonight? that you spent hours on your hair? is he thinking about her?

“wanna ditch?”

“huh?” you ask confused. “we can’t. you said that this was important.”

“i spoke to everyone worth speaking to.” he shrugs. “we can stay if you’d like.”

“no, no. let’s go.”

he smiles at you, eyes crinkly and you want to kiss him so badly but you don’t. you can’t.

you leave the room together. giggling like kids as you attempt to sneak out. no one notices, or if they do, they pretend not to. when he reaches for your hand, you wrap yours around it.

as a shy, precocious child, when max had effectively taken you under his wing, you’d do whatever he’d ask. even as an adult, you’d do the same. when he kissed you in his hotel room that night, you kissed him back.

“is this okay?” he whispers, as his hand was on the zipper on the back of your dress. you nod and kiss him again. he groans as you press yourself down on him.

you step out of your dress, as he plays with the waistband of your panties. he smooths his thumb against the exposed skin as you stand in front of him. he leans in and kisses your hip.

“is this for me?” he looks at your matching lingerie set. you don’t know what to say. it was to make you feel sexy but he’s doing that for you now with the way his eyes darken as they look at you.

“do you want it to be for you?” he nods and you grin. “it’s always for you.”

“lie down.”

“why?”

“i want to eat you out. lie down, please.”

something in the way he sounded in that moment made you immediately listen. he sounded desperate. desperate for you.

losing your virginity to the man you’re in love with was never in the plan, but as you lie against the pillows as his face sits between your legs, you don’t care. you almost sing for him as he goes down on you. he presses his ring finger and middle finger in slowly and you shake as your legs lock in on his head.

the aftershocks tremble through your body as he crawls up and kisses you. smoothing his free hand against your skin.

“what about your girlfriend?” he shoots you a side-eye.

“now you ask?” he grins as you giggle. “we’re not together anymore. i never thought she was really for me. i don’t know. i think i compare every girl to you.”

you freeze. he kisses you goodnight and falls asleep but how could you sleep knowing that?

a week later, they’re back together and you try to swallow the hot tears that threaten to show. you channel all the energy into the race and place higher than him.

deserved.

yet, it still doesn’t get rid of the pain in your stomach when he posts her on his instagram with the caption - “my greatest prize.”

[that-sarcastic-writer]

A Love Game

DI!Single!Dad!Leon S. Kennedy X F!Teacher!Reader

Summary: You hear a glimpse of Leon's relationship with his daughter. And later he makes you a proposal you just can't refuse

Warnings: mild sexual content, still minors dni, brief phone sex, allusions to sex, Leon has a mouth on his as always, bit of soft!dom leon, mostly Leon being a soft dad on this one, foul language (as always), no use of y/n

WC: 3k

A/N: so I'm totally in love with this dynamic! And yalls support was insane. I literally wrote two separate drafts of a continuation of these two and whichever I finished first was gonna be posted, so the light smut one won bc I'm tired atm and didn't feel like sitting in front of my computer for 6 hours🙃 so this short part will have a second part to it with full spicy time. And another standalone part with these two (coffee and other things) having some more spicy time is also in the works, so stay tuned. Besitos <3

Universe Masterlist

Leon blinked slowly, his eyes now starting to grow sore from staring at the bright computer screen for so long. But he just hadn't had time to finish this stupid report. Sure, he has had two whole days to get it done, but with a tiny human clinging to his arm every waking minute, it was a bit more complicated than he thought. But he couldn't possibly ignore his little girl when he barely had the time to be with her without having to worry about stopping some mad scientist with too much time in their hands. He didn't mind though. His little girl was more important than anything else. 

Still, he took advantage of the little window of time he had now. He had given Isabella dinner a little over an hour ago. Then left her in the dining room to finish her homework. She had always been a smart girl, responsible with her homework, she never fussed when he asked her to do it, so it didn't worry him in the slightest to leave her to do her own thing. She tended to get distracted when he was around anyway. 

Though, maybe an hour had gone by when he heard tiny feet pad bare through the wood floors and he saw a mess of chocolate brown strands sticking from its bun peek above his computer screen. He slowly lowered the screen until it was almost shut and he was met with a pair of sapphire eyes that were a replica of his own. He raised an eyebrow at her. 

"Daddy." She took a step closer to him, her eyes big like she wanted to ask him something. 

Leon sat up fully, setting his laptop aside and nodded at her, giving her his full attention now. "What's up bee?" 

"Can I.. uhm.. I can play with your switch now?" She asked, dark lashes batting as she fiddled with her hands. As if she had to give him puppy dog eyes for him to say yes. He kept his face serious though. 

"You wanna play on my switch?" She nodded. He ran his fingers over his light stubble as if he was thinking real hard, he pursed his lips in thought. "I dunno hun, did you finish your homework?" 

"How did you know I had homework?" She asked with an adorable frown on her face, it took Leon all of his willpower not to break then. 

"Well I do now." He slipped a smile and she pouted. He couldn't help but chuckle at his little girl. He took her in his arms and sat her on his lap. "Well I knew before. Wanna know how?" 

Her head perked up. "How?" 

Leon leaned into her ear with a smile, "'Cause dads know everything about their little girls." He pressed a kiss to the side of her hair and set her back on her feet. "But yeah, Miss Pretty Teacher told me." 

"That's cheating!" She whipped her head around with a gasp and glared at him. He again couldn't hide his laugh. 

"Yeah alright, you caught me," he raised his hands up at her in surrender. "You can play on the switch for a bit. Do you remember how to turn it on?" 

Izzy proudly nodded and skipped over to the large TV hooked up to the living room. The TV had been on, nothing playing, but just on, since Leon had intended to play some white noise in the background but never actually loaded up anything. He switched to the right input as he watched Izzy turn on the Switch. It took her a second to remember how, but she was happily skipping back to the couch with the controllers as the loading screen came up before Leon could get up to help. He shook his head to himself, but he puffed out a breath when Izzy jumped on his lap, rather hard, the little girl giggling when he groaned. 

"Jesus Christ, when did you get so big?" He chuckled, fixing her on his lap so she wouldn't fall and watched as she scrolled through the games until she found Mario Kart. 

"I turned seven in October, remember?" She piped up, genuinely reminding him of such an important date, as if he would ever forget. He nodded. 

"I know, Izzy. I took you to Dave and Busters with Amara, remember?" 

"Oh. Yeah, you're right. That was fun. We should go again sometime! Please daddy?" She turned her head to look at him with this smile on her face and her big blue eyes. 

God, what did he ever do to deserve this kid? 

He pressed his lips to her forehead and nodded. 

"'Course. I'll talk to Amara's mom, okay?" 

He watched as Izzy excitedly nodded and cheered happily before she got lost in the game in front of her. He didn't mind her having screen time. It wasn't like she had an iPad glued to her face twenty-four-seven. He let her play once or twice a week, and maybe a third if he was feeling like playing with her. And she was more than happy to spend that time with her dad. 

Tonight he wasn't really feeling playing, so he watched her do her best. To her, she was the biggest winner there ever was, throwing turtle shells and bombs at practically nothing and hitting the wall with every curve, but she had fun with it, so he let her be, cheering her on whenever she finished a race, even if it was in ninth or eighth place. 

Maybe thirty minutes had passed when he felt his phone buzz beside him. He took his eyes away from the colorful screen to look at his phone. It lit up with a text, and his smile grew wide at the name. 

My pretty teacher. 

He grabbed his phone and quickly opened the conversation. You had been texting back and forth all day, for days now, after what he considered a perfect first date, but he just hadn't gotten around to match your schedule to plan another date. So you had resorted to texting and maybe calling once here and there. But God, he was really missing you right about now.

My pretty teacher: sorry, I went to dinner with my mom and sister. And I just got home. Hru? 

He bit his lip as he attempted to type into his phone one handed. 

Me: It's fine. I'm ok. With izzy. 

My pretty teacher: awww🥰 

Me: Can you call? I'm texting with one hand at the moment. 

You saw the message, and he could see the three text bubbles appear and disappear. Until they didn't come back. He mentally grimaced at himself, maybe the idea of talking to him while Isabella was there made you uncomfortable? Shit. He hadn't thought about that. Christ, he hadn't dated in so long he had forgotten that being a single dad wasn't exactly the biggest turn on. No matter how much one liked kids. 

His anxiety riddled brain stopped racing when he saw your contact name pop up on his screen as his phone started ringing. He grinned to himself. He glanced at Izzy— her full attention was still on her game, he shrugged and answered the call. He set his phone down, still having one ear bud in from when he was working on his laptop. 

"Hey Miss." He spoke first, his heart racing in his chest a bit. 

"Hi Leon." He could hear the smile in your voice. That shy smile he thought was the prettiest thing. 

"You busy?" He asked, still a bit worried he was interrupting you in the middle of something. Though the indistinct sound of TV playing in the background let him know that maybe you weren't that busy. 

"Not really. I got home a little bit ago so I was just about to run myself a bath." You answered, walking back and forth between your bedroom and the bathroom connected to it. "You?"

Leon tried his hardest not to think about your words too much. Not right now. 

"Nah. Just watching Izzy play on my switch. She's kicking ass in Mario Kart." He heard you blurt out a giggle, which made him chuckle, but what made him actually laugh was Izzy shooting him a frown over her shoulder. 

"Daddy, that's a no-no word." 

Leon snapped his head down at Izzy and he frowned, not sure if he heard her correctly, "What's that bee?" 

"I said that's a bad word."

"What is?" 

"Ass." 

Leon almost snorted at the way she said the word. With a frown and her lips pursed. He didn't care if she said bad words or not. He sure as hell said them all the time, but he encouraged her not to repeat what he said, in front of other people, at least. He narrowed his eyes at her. 

"So don't say it. I'm an adult. I can say them." When she kept looking at him, he placed a hand on top of her head and —gently— turned her head back towards the TV screen, despite her protest. "Keep playing your game, Isabella. Or you can't sit on my lap anymore." 

All Leon could hear was you attempting to muffle your laughter, but he could hear your giggles loud and clear. He only rolled his eyes, but he had a tiny smile of his own. 

"C'mon don't laugh, being a parent is hard. Are you the one teaching her this no-no bull— B.S?" He caught himself, closing his eyes when you laughed even more, now not even bothering to hide it. 

"I have to! I have a swear jar, I'm sorry. I gotta set an example." 

He actually laughed at this, remembering the mouth you had on you when he had you on his bed. 

"Yeah, well, you weren't so pure and innocent when you were screaming—" He caught himself again, his own eyes widening when he remembered Isabella was right there and he sighed out softly. "Give me an hour and I'll give you the answer you deserve, Miss." 

You stayed quiet for a second, not because he offended you, but because you needed a second to breathe and control the heat that flashed between your legs at his insinuation. You exhaled deeply before responding. 

"You're what again? Playing Switch with Izzy? 

Leon hummed in response. "She is. She's sitting on my lap so I'm being forced to watch." 

"I'm not forcing you!"

"On your game, Isabella. Stop listening to my conversation." 

"Does she have her own Switch or something?" You asked, now sitting on the edge of your bathtub as hot water poured from the faucet. 

"No. It's my Switch. But I leave it in the living room so she can play sometimes." He answered you with a shrug you obviously couldn't see. 

You chuckled softly, "How old are you again?" 

"Thirty-eight, but that's besides the point. I barely have time to use the thing. I mostly bought it for Izzy." He wasn't lying— entirely. He sometimes played, late at night by himself when he wanted to drown himself in a bottle of whiskey. He would choose to play a game to blow off steam instead of getting drunk with his little girl sleeping in the next room or passing out drunk at some shitty bar. 

"I'm very convinced by that." You snorted, making him sigh out at you.

"Hmph. Whatever. You wouldn't understand how cathartic throwing green turtle shells at tiny cars can be." 

"Oh I bet." 

"Daddy?" You heard Isabella's voice through the phone and your heart warmed.

Leon looked down at Izzy, "Yeah?" 

"Who are you talking to?" She asked with genuine curiosity, her very glorious race tournament now over and her attention was on him. 

He heard you go silent, most likely having heard the little girl and he sighed out, his eyes landing up on the ceiling for a second as he thought of his answer. 

"Just a friend, bee." He ultimately decided on that answer. It wasn't that he was ashamed of being with you, not at all, but Izzy was still young, and even he knew there had to be a proper introduction of you outside of your teacher role. He actually wanted to do this the right way.

"You fuck my brains out last week and I'm just a friend now?" He heard you comment in his ear and he groaned out. 

"C'mon, that's not fair." He leaned back into the couch, his forearm over his eyes now as he basically had two women all over him, pressing him with way too many questions for his liking. 

"I'm just giving you a hard time, Leon. I get it." There was humor in your voice, lightheartedness and even though he couldn't see you, he had a feeling you had that gentle smile on your lips. That eased the pressure on his chest. 

"Listen sweetheart, it's almost Izzy's bedtime," His eyes were on Izzy now, and with his eyes he was nudging at her to start wrapping up her game. She pouted, but didn't otherwise fuss. "Call you in an hour?" 

You both had this dumb, lovesick smile on your face, if only you could see the other.

"I'll be up."

The warm water, the foaming body wash and the intoxicating smell of your favorite candle had done wonders to relax you. When you left the bathtub you felt like a whole new person. Though there still this tug of butterflies in your stomach as you anxiously waited for Leon to call you. 

You sat on the edge of the tub, warm and fluffy robe wrapped around your naked body as you mindlessly scrolled through your social media for a little while before you decided to check out for the night. You nearly slipped right off the tile when your phone buzzed and you felt a cold shiver run down your spine. 

"Hey, sorry about, y’know, earlier. Izzy and I are like that." You smiled at the sound of Leon's voice, now a bit hushed but more relaxed and carefree, like he now could say whatever the fuck he wanted. 

"It's okay. It was cute, hearing how you talk to her. You're sweet." You smiled to yourself, and you could hear him breathe out a soft laugh, most likely a bit flustered by your words, but he otherwise didn't show it. "You put her to sleep though?" 

"Yeah, I stayed with her 'til she fell asleep. I'm in my bedroom now, about to take a shower." He said the words slowly, with purpose, like he wanted you to think about it like he had been thinking about you, taking that bath. "So, you take your bath yet?" 

"Yeah, it was nice. I definitely needed it. I could've used some company though." You bit your lip, testing his reaction. There was silence, then he hummed. 

"Yeah? That so?" Now it was your turn to hum in agreement, your legs instinctively closing as you tried to soothe the ache between your thighs. "I'm sure you could've. Would've been nice to have someone hold you, right? Have someone leave kisses on your wet skin, say how good you're doing while getting your pretty pussy fingered?" 

You couldn't hold back the moan that left your throat at his words, and your free hand instantly traveled down, stopping at your belly. 

"Oh, that's a sound I'll never get tired of hearing. Fuck, you're already moaning for me and I'm not even there to give you a reason." He exhaled out a chuckle, his hardening cock starting to press against his sweatpants. 

"Fuck, I really wish you were here." You sighed out, your hand itching closer towards your already wet cunt, but you knew it wasn't your touch you ached for. It was Leon's. 

"Yeah? Why's that?" 

You whined softly, your phone almost slipping off your grip as your head fell to the side. "Leon…" 

"Tell me." 

"Because… I really, really, need you to touch me, hold me, ugh— I just need you to fuck me, Leon." 

Leon clenched his fist as his side, teeth digging into his bottom lip as he listened to your desperate words, and the sound shot straight to his cock. Fuck, he'd be lying if he said he didn't need you, too. 

"Goddamn baby," He grunted softly, his hand now brushing the front of his sweats, where his cock strained against the material, and he tried to muffle the sound between his teeth, but you heard it anyway. "You have no fucking idea how much I've been wanting to ruin that pussy of yours again. It's actually driving me crazy." 

You shuddered, the ache between your legs starting to become unbearable. "I really want to see you too, baby." 

Leon closed his eyes, biting his lip raw as he thought fuck it. He could explain in the morning. 

"Fuck it, just fuck it. Wanna take the drive here? I swear I'll give you exactly what you need and it'll be so worth it." 

You'd like to think you were a rational person, you always thought things through twice, three times if necessary. You didn't take risks, much less acted in a way that could be considered immoral, but for Leon? Fuck, for that man you would become the biggest whore in this world if it meant he would take you just one more time. 

"Be there in thirty." 

Fuck it. 

Sneak peek of A Love Game Part II, coming soon

His lips were hard on your own, messy on your jaw, like he didn't know which part he wanted to kiss more. Your fingers were entangled in his perfectly soft honey brown strands, already melting under his touch. His hand came up under your jaw to grip your face in place, long fingers sprawled out over your neck. He pulled you back by your face and his eyes were hard on you, with this mixture of authority and utter need to fuck you. He could be both. 

"This is how this is gonna be. I'm going to throw you on that bed and fuck you the way you deserve. But I better not hear a single fucking sound leave those pretty lips of yours. Not tonight. Got it?"

Stay tuned for upcoming parts lovelies. Besitos<3

[deesseshesca]

PAC : How to express your sexual self ? (18+)

I GOT A NEW KINKY DECK BABES !

Good morning pretty soul ! I am so excited ... IS OFFICIALLY KINKTOBER ! DAY : 6-8

A.N.G.E.L soul tribe OR B.A.B.Y. soul tribe FOR EXCLUSVE CONTENT.

Your future lover| SEX Douala =SALE READING

PILE 1 

2 cups (reverse), 3 swords (reverse), 3 pentacles, 4 pentacles 

Y’all are dealing with a partner that sabotages you but they are not the only one. You guys are out here playing super hero saving everyone except for focusing on nurturing your garden. You don’t even have enough in your cup but nah u out here pouring in everybody cups. I do understand that you have children so you need to pour into their cup unconditionally. Since you are outhere saving others but yourself you are drained mentally which has a major impact on your mother/father hood. Your kids deserve the best version of yourself so cut with no second thought anything draining you. 

Stop having sex with them ! Every time your partner wants to get in your good graces they create a sexual tension and all the sudden you forgive all they are wrong doing. You are so damm predictable that they don’t even fucking try changing. Ever since I started pulling card for people, I realize how people are ready to stay in broken relationships because it is not toxic enough to leave. Like the fact that u are always unhappy should be the limit. Nah y’all want to get  beaten on, cheated on or financially abused before calling it a quit. Y’all need to feel completely defeated before standing up for yourself. Such a mindset is so dangerous, especially when u have children. Because you should not accept any kind of abuse before leaving and it shows how low your self worth really is. For y’all specifically, you don’t want to leave your partner,ok , then open your mouth. Express that you have had enough and REQUIRE fucking change. Stop letting yourself down chasing for perfection only you can create. Going to therapy is necessary to work together towards y’all happy ending. Is not going to fall from the sky. Babe you are kissing their neck, sucking on their nipples, caressing their body and giving them the best head while they finish a second time inside u. Great but where is your pleasure? They don’t even try to please you and since you don’t complain they think they are doing an amazing job. Break their bubble, you are worth too much to be suffering in silence. Express yourself + stand on business + put your sexual need first = a PROPER expression of your sexual self allowing you to receive what you need and deserve. 

💌 : Only for this pile if you have issue regarding what exactly is it to expect from your partner or how to be love, you can contact me on Ko-fi, I will give you the extra reading by audio for free. If you wanna know how to build up your sexual confident, you can listen to this which will also unlock extra content.

PILE 2 

10 cups (reverse), queen swords (reverse), 6 pentacles, Strength 

Don’t stay content, I always advise my environment to go after fulfillment. Meaning don’t let just anybody in our sexual energy. Y’all don’t need to be this dark feminine energy to improve your sexual life. You can be approachable and untouchable. Y’all are my charming babe and you have a beautiful warmth about you but you let anybody enjoy it. Sexually you settle for the worst bare minimum because you care a lot about your reputation. Which leads you to embody a more desperate energy because you want to feel accepted so bad. Wanting to feel seen by any kind of community we cherish is normal but ready to do anything to feel accepted is not ok. Losing yourself to achieve a goal that doesn't serve you personally but to keep up a public image is actually crazy. Take a grip ! Is your life. You decide who want to fuck, when and how !You know what you desire as your dream life, so you should only judge yourself upon your own standard. Since it is YOUR life. You are too worried about what people are saying behind your back. Y’all may be in uni and part of Greek life.  In the vision, you're wearing clean white airforces, with white socks, on your knees just in a beautiful white lace push up bra giving head. I’m hearing: ‘’ Mhmmm thx babe … it’s amazing’’ after you slow down. You quickly realize you got fuck over because the person you dealt with did not do any move to have to try to please you orally or even with penetration. Leaving you in a random room with no aftercare. You did not even want to deal with them but you were scared of the rumor that may start if you don’t let them ‘’hit’’. Also you want to build stamina, but to build stamina you must practice. First stand on business regarding the happiness of your sex life. Realize that only you have the power to change that. Realize how powerful you really are, you get to decide if you want to get laid, if you want to give head, if you even want to engage sexually. Stop giving your body away. Second, it is ok to have sexual goals and just like regular goals you must build a plan to reach it. Build a standard in what you search for and a partner and allow yourself to have a FWB or a relationship where the person you are dealing with is in energy to teach you how to have sex. Because you may be the type to cum to quickly and you don’t like that. Standard + Owning your sexual self + finding the right partner = Better expression of your sexual self. 

💌 : You really need to step the fuck out these desperation energy before you created a circle of bad habit which can hinder your quality of life since it will bring self sabotage. Also do not confess your feeling to that looser just because he is the only that has enough balls to come up to you does not mean that he deserve you. You know damm well you deserve better. If you wanna know how to build up your sexual confident, you can listen to this which will also unlock extra content.

PILE 3 

7 pentacles (reverse), queen swords (reverse), 7 cups, 10 cups

Y’all feel the sexiest when you are making money. Is not about beauty maintenance, it is just when your finances are unbalanced you feel unhappy. 

You are confused about the sexual energy poured into yourself. Y'all may have been the ‘’ugly duckling ‘’ growing up and now you have those sexual suitors popping left and right. You had a boob job, nose job, a bbl… anyway you had your worst physical insecurity fix. There’s some shadow work that has to be done around self esteem. Getting surgery in my opinion is a fixing matter regarding a deep issue. Don’t get me worn out babe, I am all in for the vanity (You need to see the length i go to protect my beauty) but when you still feel unfulfilling before fixing everything understand where the problem is really coming from. Otherwise you are going to spend a whole lifetime fixing yourself. I see a graph of exponent function and that’s the representation of your body count. Almost all of them disappoint you sexually. I’m hearing : ‘’ I don’t understand all the obsession around sex and have a lot of it…’’ The reality is that you guys are simulated by the mind. Also don’t feel ashamed of yourself. Sometimes while healing we created a wound chasing after a feeling. You hurt yourself and it is ok you can heal it too. There’s 2 types of people in the world: the body or the mind and it opens a spectrum of each. You guys need to feel safe, loved and seen to experience the big ‘’o’’. You need somebody that lives to learn about you and make it their priority to please you. You need gentle sex, whisper of sweet nothing and the loving embrace to express your equal freely. Shadow work + real love + self forgiveness = Ideal sexual expression.

💌 : Also do not fall for the people that are looking for a savior in love. You guys are amazing lover and would make amazing partner a lot a offer is going to come your way and many of them are going to be codependent and toxic people hiding under innocent mask. Heads up. If you wanna know how to build up your sexual confident, you can listen to this which will also unlock extra content.

PILE 4

10 wands (reverse), 4 cup (reverse), Star (reverse) and queen pentacles (reverse) 

Pile 4, you need to make the time to prioritize yourself. I see somebody sleeping late, waking up late, rushing to get ready, wearing the same outfit, having the worst work ethic (your manager may have flagged you about it), and going back home to an extremely messy home. When all  you really want is  to have enough time in the morning to go to the gym, take good care of your body, do your makeup, wear a beautiful and clean outfit, go after the promotion you deserve  and come back home to a clean house. Y’all cars may also be extremely messy. In your case to feel the sexiest is not just about the looks but how much you pour into yourself. Also need to do some shadow work regarding your body. Y’all may have suffered with ED and you have recently ( 6 months +) recovered fully but you refuse to touch yourself sexually because you don’t love your body. Is not pretty enough. First y’all better go ahead and purchase that sex toy. If you wanted a confirmation … here u have it. Pleasure yourself, enjoy  yourself, look at yourself naked in the mirror. Obviously take baby steps in the journey not to trigger anything but it needs to be done. Since you keep hoping that a special someone is going to come into your life and heal all your sexual habits. Nah babe you need to know yourself to achieve the pleasure you crave and attract the right one, first. Second, nobody likes to be in bed with someone overly insecure because it creates a blockage. Not knowing and learning is good. Having healthy insecurity is part of everyday life . But being as insecure as you are but you in an energy where you will be the worst lover to be with. I’m hearing : ‘’ If I had this…. If I had that…. I would not be like this….’’. Your victim mentality is about to cost you the dream life you deserve. Self love + prioritizing ‘’YOU’’+ saving yourself = the best way to express your sexual self which will help you become the sexiest version of yourself and attract your ideal partner.

💌 : You deserve a partner that is not going to be a shame to pull up with you. Stop falling for the one offering the bare minimum babe you do not have to work for love especially the one with ill intent. So make sure you park them to the left and you focus on loving yourself and never lowering your standard. If you wanna know how to build up your sexual confident, you can listen to this which will also unlock extra content.

[mr-cha-n]

The Pen Pal Project

Pairing: Choi Seungcheol x reader

Genres: Fluff, fluff, and more fluff

Warnings: Profanities, sappiness, cheating (third party), a tinsy hint of angst

Word Count: 10.2k

Summary: Over a decade of handwritten letters later, you can happily say that the Pen Pal Project was your greatest success.

Reaching up into the top shelf of the wardrobe, toppling onto your tiptoes in order to do so, your fingertips brush against a satin, bowed box. Pulling the box down to your chest, you perch at the edge of your large, periwinkle-sheeted bed, gingerly untangling the pretty blue ribbon and lifting the lid off of the top. Leafing your fingers through the stacks of paper inside, you feel a wave of nostalgia enrapturing your body. Your head rolls back, eyes falling shut as your mind is overtaken by memory.

"Honey, the guests will be here soon!" Your husband yells out from down the stairs.

"I'll just be a few minutes! Can you take the cake out, my love?" You call back, praying you have the time to reminisce before everyone arrives.

You gently pull out the first letter from the top of the stack.

April 5th 2007

Dear pen pal,

I am writing to you because my class has signed up for the Pen Pal Project this year. Because I don't know who you are or anything about you, I am going to answer some of the questions my teacher has given us, and hopefully you can answer them too in your reply!

1. What is your name?

My mom said that I shouldn't give out any personal information, so I can't actually answer this question. My friends all call me Dusty, so you can call me that too.

2. What hobbies do you enjoy?

I am really into skating, starcraft, hockey and rocks. Yesterday, me and my friends went out to the outskirts of the city to see if we could climb the big oak trees, and I found a piece of dolomite next to the river! I really want to find a meteorite but they're very rare so I think it'll take a lot of searching. I also play in my school's field hockey team - my mom wants me to stop playing because last week I cracked one of my teeth, but I think she's going to come around when she sees our tournament next weekend.

3. What do you want to do when you grow up?

My dad is a teacher and my mom is a nurse, so my parents want me to go to university and become a doctor or a professor, but I'd quite like to be an astronaut or Indiana Jones, whichever pays better.

4. What's one thing you want to know about your pen pal?

I want to know everything about you (more than one, sorry)! What's your school like? What year were you born in (mine is 1995)? What do you do for fun? Do you like dogs? Do you have a phone?

I'm not sure if I'll get a response to this letter, but if you do want to, I hope we can keep in touch for a long time :)

Yours truly, 

Dusty

May 21st 2007

Dear Dusty,

I'm really glad I got your letter. Some of my friends got letters that didn't even have a return address, but thankfully I get to write back to you and answer some of your questions. I was also born in 1995 so we are same-age friends. I'm finding this year in school a bit harder because of all the tests we are doing, but we just started doing football again in Physical Education so it's not too bad. Sports are my biggest hobby - I do football and basketball and I want to start wrestling this year. I mostly like to go and play with my friends at the park. I'm on some of the school teams, but my friends tell me I'm too competitive to play professionally.

I also really like gaming and reading. I finished the Protoss campaign over the winter break, but I've had to stop now that school has started again. My friends are all really excited about the announcement of Starcraft II, are you too? Will you keep going with the original or switch to the new one?

When I grow up, I either want to do sports or I'll study to work a good job in business or finance. Being an astronaut would be so cool! You'd definitely be able to find a meteorite then.

About your other questions, I don't have a phone yet but I do love dogs. When I'm older I want at least one dog, if not more. Do you have any pets?

I hope that we can keep writing to each other too - it's fun to have a secret friend.

From,

Cherry

January 4th 2011

Dear Cherry,

Sorry it's been a while - I've been really busy over the winter break, but I just had my tonsils removed so I have a bit of free time in recovery to write this letter. Before you ask, no - I didn't wake up during the surgery which I was a bit disappointed about, but I did manage to swallow enough blood to make me throw up after waking up so that was kinda crazy.

I can't believe that your friend did that! One time my friend Jiwoo got suspended for unscrewing all of the lightbulbs in the science classrooms, but that was because of a dare, not her own free will! I've never been suspended before, but I came close for tardiness last year. Have you ever been suspended?

I also appreciated your inquiry into the Heiran - Hyunki situation. I can't believe I forgot to update you in my last letter, and you'll be glad to receive it! Unbelievably, they got back together. I know it's what we feared would happen, but apparently Heiran has made some of her own mistakes in the relationship, so she's willing to overlook the whole thing. Absolutely crazy - I think that she's just scared to break up with him, which I suppose is a fair concern - just not for a 16-year-old. The whole situation really made me think about the purpose of relationships and love. All of my friends keep rushing into relationships this year, and I feel like I'm being left behind. I just don't care as much as they do, but they act like I'm some alien creature for not wanting to make out with someone in the school locker rooms. Perhaps this isn't something you can relate to, but it would be nice to know if you think I'm justified in my opinion or if there really is something wrong with me.

The thought of starting school again after the break is actually making me want to run away to the mountains. My sister is leaving for university and I don't want to go to school without her. Of course, I can't tell her that, but it's going to be really lonely walking in on my own. Plus, my parents' attention is firmly on me now, so I can't mess up in exams this year. The amount of pressure is going to make my head explode. How are you feeling about the year? I guess because you have the football season to look forward to your mind is probably focused on that?

I'm thinking about rejoining hockey this year. Even though it was too much last year, I did really miss it and I think I can better manage my time now that I don't have to be in the choir anymore. I think my mom might have a fit when I tell her, but the way you talked about sports really made me miss playing. Plus, apparently, I need an outlet for all these teenage hormonal emotions seeing as I'm not getting it on in the McDonald's parking lot.

Anyways, I need to get going now so I have time to blend some fruit up before lunchtime.

Yours truly,

Dusty

A chuckle leaves your lips as you read back over your letter. You'd been so worried about who was dating who and, more importantly, who you weren't dating. You were always so grateful for someone to discuss your fears with - your friends at the time certainly didn't understand. You'd had your first kiss a few weeks after you'd sent the letter. A party at a friend of a friend's house had devolved into typical teenage party games and you'd been pressured into kissing a boy whose name you couldn't remember. In fairness, you remembered that he was cute - curly dark hair and sharp cheekbones - but you'd made a joke about not being able to engage in tonsil tennis and he hadn't laughed so you'd known he wasn't the one.

June 27th 2011

Dear Dusty,

I finally asked out Myunghee and she said yes -

Nuh uh, skip that one.

October 23rd 2013

Dear Dusty,

All the kids in the year have planned a big Halloween party to celebrate our last your of high school. It's pretty exciting - apparently, they've bought some major decorations and they're going to set out the host's house to have scary surprises in all the rooms. I wouldn't be surprised if someone dresses up and decides to chase drunk kids around all night. It's a bittersweet feeling - our last Halloween party, but perhaps our best? Do you have any plans for Halloween and the holidays? I'm thinking of doing a Superman costume, but I'm wondering if that's a bit too obvious?

I put off writing about it first because I didn't want to open the letter with bad news, but I wanted to let you know that me and Myunghee broke up. Even though it's pretty sad, I've known it was coming for a while. If you remember my last letter, I told you about the fight that we had about next year, and I think that was really the beginning of the end. I was hoping that we could make it work a bit longer, but she said that we'd just be dragging out the inevitable and I guess she's right. I think I'm still a bit annoyed about the rollercoaster of the last month seeing if she's known the whole time that we should break up but I'll get over it. It's mostly just weird not having her around all the time. Everywhere feels a lot emptier now. I'm glad I can write to you about this - it's a bit awkward talking about it with my friends because they are also friends with her, but I can actually be honest with you. 

Anyway, I hope you are doing a bit better than me. Your date sounded pretty cool - I've always wanted to go on an ice-skating date but I'd be a bit scared of falling over and making a fool of myself so I admire your confidence. If you are still seeing him, I hope he's treating you well. Chocolates and flowers at least once a month - and you can tell him I said so if he asks. If you're not seeing him, I (pre-emptively) can't believe he did that to you! What a jerk...

Are you watching the AFC Champions League final? A few friends and I are going to go down to the bar to watch it together and pray for a good result - either way, it should be fun. I suppose your dad will have it on in the house, but I'll be shocked if you tell me you're going to watch it with him after last time. Best to avoid the flying wrath of a TV remote. There's something about dads and sports, isn't there? I wonder if I'll be like that when I'm an adult. I hope not, but I already get too into it so maybe it's inevitable.

Yours,

Cherry

That date had been a good one as far as you remember, but the memory has become blurry after all the times your husband has taken you ice-skating since. You'd dated that guy for a few more weeks after this, but he made a weird comment to one of his friends when he didn't think you could hear it so you knew he wasn't the one.

Finishing high school and moving on to university had been a formative time for you. You gained a sense of identity that you'd lost as a teenager, and reconnected with your younger self. A smile crinkles your lips as you think about that time. The stupid escapades of adults let loose on their own for the first time, the lifelong friends you'd made, and the wealth of knowledge you'd gained about yourself and about the world. Your husband never attended university so he never experienced any of that, but you suppose he did have his own life-changing revelations during this time.

February 8th 2015

Dear Cherry,

I'm in crisis and I need your advice! I haven't spoken to anyone else about this yet, but I have a feeling building in me that needs to be released and you always give me the best advice. I'm thinking about dropping out of my program. 

I know this sounds super rash and stupid, but I really hate it. I find it so dull and confusing, and everyone else is much better at it than I am. And, if I'm really being honest, I only chose medicine because my mother wanted me to. I would feel so stupid revealing that to anyone else, but I think you already knew that was the case. I'm struggling to keep going with it without the passion that other students seem to have, and when I hear about my friends' courses they sound so much more interesting.

If I actually go through with it, this may be the last letter I write to you. But, given that I survived my mother's wrath, a life studying literature or archaeology sounds so much more fulfilling to my brain even if not my pockets. What do you think about all of this? Is it worth following a passion that may lead to nothing or sticking it out with a stable, reliable path to future success without enjoyment?

As you know, I make very impulsive decisions, so I need your help in deciding whether or not this would be one of those.

Yours truly,

Dusty

P.S. I got asked to the dance by this really attractive guy who works at the coffee shop on campus so not everything is going wrong.

P.S.S. I found a rock which I thought was a meteorite but it was actually a magnetite - better luck next time!

You'd dropped out of your medicine major the moment you'd received the reply. Of course, your pen pal was a lot more supportive of your decision than your parents were but they got over it in time. Your fate had been decided the moment you'd stepped out of your first archaeology class - heart beaming and mind brimming with all of your plans for the future. Despite your parents' apprehensions, it had been the right decision. It didn't take long for your burning enthusiasm and insatiable appetite for learning to be picked up by your professors, and by your second year in the major you'd been invited on an exclusive trip one of your professors was going on with a handful of other students. 

It was around this time that you'd started wondering more about your pen pal. The flutters of your heart each time the small envelope appeared in your dorm pigeonhole had been drowned out by the rush of university life. Reflecting back, your obliviousness to your own emotions makes you shake your head in disbelief. But then, you'd met Daejung. He'd taken you out dancing, brought you flowers and laughed at your jokes, and you began to wonder if he was the one.

May 16th 2017

Dear Dusty,

Officially, you may know me better than anyone else. I know I already sent you a letter this month that you probably haven't even received, but I realised that it is the tenth anniversary since I received your first letter. Not to be soppy, but it truly means the world to me that we've been able to keep up this correspondence this whole time. 

As far as I'm aware, we won the Pen Pal Project. No one else I know stayed in touch with their childhood pen pal for nearly as long as we have, and I think that we deserve some kind of reward for it.

But, beyond any records we must have broken, I'm most grateful for the friendship we have developed. In any other circumstances, I would have said that it was impossible for people who have never met to be each other's closest confidants, but I can confidently say that there is nothing I wouldn't tell you. If it turns out you've been some 60-year-old man this whole time, consider me logged off from this life. 

My wish is that we can keep doing this for as long as we are able to hold pens in our hands, and even then I'd consider getting a scribe to write the letters for me.

As a gift, I feel that it's about time that I tell you my name - my real name. If you (and your mom) still don't feel comfortable sharing yours then Dusty is still perfectly fine for me, but the fundamental disconnect between telling a person your deepest secrets and not telling them your name has gotten too overwhelming for me, so it's time to rectify that.

Yours, 

Seungcheol

P.S. If you still want to call me Cherry that's also a-okay!

The first time Seungcheol revealed his name to you, you remember you'd dropped the letter in shock. As if knowing his name changed things, as if he didn't live a completely separate life from you already. It wasn't like knowing who he was would change anything about your life - you had no connection to him other than your letters - but the intimacy of his name had you staggering a few steps backwards, eye bulging from your head at the fallen letter. It seems rather overdramatic now, but in hindsight it always does.

This letter had been a bit of a turning point in your relationship, beyond the end of the nicknames you'd used for ten years. You'd always felt close enough to Seungcheol to pour your heart out to him in writing, but the closeness you felt was compounded in this letter. You wipe a few rogue tears from your eyes as you read back over it, moved by the raw declarations Seungcheol had been brave enough to express. If you really think about it, this letter was the first time you'd truly tried to picture what your pen pal looked like. Up until this point, you'd been enflamed by his words and unloaded all of your deepest thoughts to him in return, but this was the first time that you'd realised that your pen pal was a real man your age that you were already deeply connected to. The thought had been scandalous in your mind, and the shame that overwhelmed you when you'd met up with Daejung later that day made it hard to look him in the eye. Fantasising about a man you had never seen before had felt as bad as cheating, and the various forms of him that had appeared in your dreams for the rest of the week only compounded your guilt.

August 4th 2018

Dear Seungcheol,

Happy 24th Birthday! It's actually shocking to me to think that we're this old already, but I think mid-20s is a label that suits you well these days. Jokes aside, I hope you have a really lovely day doing whatever it is you have planned. I'll assume you're off bungee jumping with Jeonghan or on an all-inclusive golfing retreat until you tell me otherwise. In all cases, I hope that you are surrounded by friends and family to remind you how special you are.

Also, congratulations on your new job! I can't believe you didn't tell me that you were interviewing for it, but I suppose you didn't want to jinx anything by putting it into writing. I always thought that coaching would suit you - you could scare me into coming to practice any day! You should be really proud of yourself; I know that I am.

You'll never guess who got in contact with me this week! All out of nowhere, I got a message from Heiran of all people inviting me to her and Hyunki's wedding! I guess I was really wrong about that one... For their sake, I hope that their relationship is a bit better than it was in school. I was very surprised to be invited seeing as we haven't spoken in years, but I suppose it'll be nice to see everyone from school again. Perhaps I should tell Daejung that he can't come and you can be my plus one instead - I think you know the couple better than he does!

Another one of my friends just gave birth to a baby boy. All of this marrying and birth-giving is really screwing with my head. As far as I was aware, that's a thing that proper adults do and we're nowhere close to that yet. Even if I know that 24 is a very common age to be doing that stuff, it's still more than my brain can process. Once again, I am left behind as everyone else moves on to the next stage of life. I'm grateful, at least, that Daejung is pretty relaxed about all of that stuff. Hoping we can have a few more years before we start thinking about any of it - I still have so much travelling to do, things to see, and meals to eat before I flush all of my money down the toilet.

Jiwoo got really excited this week because she thought she saw Lee Byunghun walking past her work, so that made me feel a bit better about my life priorities.

Yours truly,

(Y/n)

P.S. I'm spending extra money to make sure this gets to you on time, so if it doesn't you cannot blame me.

P.P.S. My new address is - XXX

That year you and Daejung had finally moved in together. The apartment was small and in a less-than-nice area, but you'd been ecstatic at the chance to live with the man you loved. It had been a rough year before that - Daejung had missed out on a job offer for his dream role and you weren't able to go abroad on an excavation because he didn't want you to leave for months just as you were moving in together - but you'd seen the new apartment as symbolic of the new beginning you two would get together.

You'd also thought a lot about meeting up with Seungcheol that year. Looking back, it was crazy that you never did. Both of you expressed a will to do so, but something had always prevented you from actually doing it. You were completing your postgraduate degree part-time and working a service job that was supporting both you and Daejung at the start of the year, moving in together in the middle of the year, and Seungcheol had gotten busy with his new job in the latter half of the year. Even though you had never met up before, that you weren't able to that year was the first time it felt like a loss.

December 12th 2019

Dear (Y/n),

I've been thinking about you a lot recently. Writing to you has been the highlight of my month for a while now, and I'm so proud of you for everything you've achieved. It's amazing that you're already being asked to go on your first excursion as a proper expert, and I hope that Daejung comes around to the idea of you being away for so long. I'm sure that I'll miss your letters so I can imagine he's feeling much worse about it - but that shouldn't stop you from going. You might find an ancient vase and accidently release a curse upon the world, or discover a new dinosaur! Even if you go and are just digging up dirt with no results, I'll still be impressed.

One of the kids I mentor asked me if I knew what Starcraft was yesterday, and at that moment I really felt my age. I think it's led to some level of introspection I usually avoid, but one thing that has become clear to me is that I'm very grateful for this friendship. I hope that one day soon you can perhaps travel to Daegu and visit, or I can come see you in Seoul. Or perhaps it will take away the great fun of having a pen pal if we meet - you may be expecting someone completely opposite from me and seeing me may ruin the magic?

But the main reason I've been thinking about you is because I finally finished Kim Jiyoung, Born 1982. You were very correct in your recommendation - I can't believe it took me so long to read it! Summary of thoughts: I'm raging and also apologising to my mother and grandmother every time I see them. You have to send me another recommendation now that I'm finished - maybe some sort of mystery or thriller if you know any?

Yours,

Seungcheol

P.S. I suppose I should send you a whip and brown fedora and then you can officially say you're Indiana Jones. 

January 7th 2021

Dear Seungcheol,

I'm glad you had fun on your trip! The picture you sent of the mountains was absolutely gorgeous and was a hilarious reminder that I have no idea what you look like. I keep saying I want to go to Japan but can hardly find the time, but after seeing the picture I really must go now.

I have some big news.

Daejung proposed and we're getting married!! 

I know it's a bit out of the blue - I was surprised too. He's been putting off any mention of marriage for the last few months so I assumed he just wasn't interested but I guess that was all a cover to stop me from suspecting the proposal. It happened a few days after I got back from Vienna. It was really sweet - he threw this big party with all of our close friends and family to celebrate the end of my project and proposed at the end of the night. I was pretty shocked which I suppose was the point, but I'm really just excited that we're taking that step together.

My main purpose for writing is that I wanted to invite you to the wedding. It's a big step, but it wouldn't feel right to get married without one of my oldest friends there. If you decide you don't want to and you want to keep our friendship strictly on paper then I'd totally understand. But if you do want to come, we'd love to have you with us. I'll cover any travel and hotel fees if it means I can have you here.

Your continued support via letter means the world to me. 

Yours truly, 

(Y/n)

The wedding. Oh, the wedding.

A few nights before your wedding Daejung had come to the hotel you'd been staying in that week to finalise all of the preparations and observe some old-fashioned pre-wedding rituals your mother insisted on as if you and Daejung hadn't lived together for years before that. He'd given you a marriage gift a bit early because you were supposed to go straight to your honeymoon in Japan on the day of the wedding. Your heart fluttered in excitement as you opened the box, electrified at the surprise of what your future-husband could have gotten you to symbolise your union together. The reality had been, you could now admit, disappointing. The necklace had been pretty, and certainly not cheap. A silver heart set with a gleaming diamond to match the ring that Daejung had picked out for you. You'd smiled, thanking him for the gift and tried to ignore the discontent brewing in your own heart.

The first time you saw Seungcheol was at your wedding reception. Because of his job and the distance, he hadn't been able to make your morning ceremony, but the fact that he even chose to come all that way meant a lot to you.

"Who's the hunk with the green scarf?" One of your bridesmaids, Jiwoo had asked, pointing out a man standing alone by one of the drinks tables. 

For a moment you didn't want to believe that it was him, but who else would be at your wedding that you didn't recognise? Tall and broad with fluffy hair and a handsome-beyond-belief face, Seungcheol had been a picture to witness. All dressed up in a suit, you thought he looked rather like a super spy or a CEO from one of those corny romance books. In any case, you were shocked to your core that that was the man you'd spilt your darkest secrets to for over a decade now.

"Oh, I think that might be Seungcheol," You breathed, voice wavering with uncertainty even though you were now certain it was him.

"Seungcheol - hmm, why does that name sound so familiar?" Your other bridesmaid, Mirae, pondered, her brow crinkled as she tried to identify the name in her memory.

"Oh my god, you invited your pen pal to your wedding?!" Jiwoo exclaimed, spinning on her heel to give you an incredulous look. 

"Of course I did, I've known him for almost as long as I've known you!" You stuttered, your head still trying to play catch-up after the dizzying appearance of said topic of conversation.

"Why didn't you tell me that your pen pal was so hot?" Mirae scoffed, mock fanning her face in a way that made you feel shamefully irritated.

"Surprisingly, he didn't mention it in his letters." You responded, offering her a deadpan look and an eyebrow raise. She shrugged, but you'd known that wouldn't be the end of that conversation.

About 15 minutes later, you'd finally managed to make your way over to Seungcheol's perch. It was hard to decipher if your delay was because of all of the people trying to talk to you at the same time (perks of it being your wedding) or because of the unexplained fear and anxiety that was bubbling inside you at the prospect of finally meeting him face-to-face. As you finally made eye-contact, and he'd flashed his teeth at you in an infectious grin, you'd felt all of that melt away from you.

"Hi," You greeted, not able to wipe your own smile from your face.

"Hi," He responded, a peace settling between the two of you. "You look really beautiful."

Your face was all ablush and you felt a sense of dread at what would happen if you started like this. Starting down at your dress, you were unable to look back up at him.

"Thank you, I had it specially made," You smiled, your eyes gleaming as he chuckled at your joke. "I really appreciate you coming all this way, it means so much to me that you're here. Please let me know if there's anything you need - have you eaten yet? I can get you some-"

"It's okay, I'm feeling great." His hand reached out to still your own, which you hadn't realised was nervously picking at at skin around your nails.

"I can't believe that this is how we're first meeting," You breathed, a sense of shyness overwhelming you at the feeling of his skin against yours.

"If you ask me, we've definitely met before. Just not physically." His words had your head spinning so much that you were struggling to remember that you were both at your wedding.

"Poetic," You agreed, trying to present at least outwardly calmer than you felt inside. 

"Oh! Before I forget, I got you this." Seungcheol extended a hand out with a small, wrapped box in his palm. "It wasn't on the registry, and really it's only for you so I thought I should give it to you personally instead of putting it on the gifts table."

"That's really generous of you, you didn't have to." You offered him a shy smile, taking the gift from him. The neatly wrapped box had been laced shut with a pretty blue ribbon, and you remember the thumping of your heart in your chest as you undid it. A small gasp involuntarily left your mouth, your hand moving to cover it in shock. 

"Important backstory - I found it a few years after you told me you were looking for it. I wanted to just send it to you then, but I thought that I should keep it for when we met. I never thought that it would take so long to do so, but I hung on to it just in case."

A small chunk of dark meteorite sat in the box in your hand. Looking up and down between Seungcheol and the rock, you felt your eyes well up with tears that you had to force back down to not ruin your wedding makeup.

"Oh wow," Your voice cracked, "Seungcheol, this is seriously so sweet. I'm shocked that you kept this for me."

You felt unable to tell him all of your emotions, hoping that the gratitude in your eyes was enough to express them all to him. The sweet, adoring expression on his face told you that he understood without you needing to say any more.

That, unfortunately, had been the highlight of your wedding.

Not an hour later, it had all gone to shit, starting with a well-intentioned comment from your best friend.

"The wedding is so gorgeous (Y/n), I'll have to take notes for my own." Jiwoo gushed, pointing at all the flowers that had now been revealed as people moved into the outside area of the venue.

"I know, Daejung did a really good job picking out this place." 

"I'm so happy for you two, especially after the whole Vienna situation."

A bolt of alarm rang through your bones as you a struck still by the comment. You didn't miss the panicked look Mirae sent Jiwoo, who looked equally as confused as you felt.

"What-" You tried to compose yourself amongst the rushes of fear that were threatening to render you completely useful. "What do you mean the Vienna situation?"

Jiwoo was now floundering, looking between you and Mirae with a gaping mouth.

"I just meant - I mean, nevermind - I thought... I thought you knew?" The last whispered part had your heart sinking to the bottom of your chest. Mirae was refusing to meet your gaze, and that was telling you all you needed to know.

"Did something happen when I was away?" You demanded, your voice slick with emotion.

"(Y/n)..." Mirae started, but the withering look you gave her immediately stopped her placating.

Four words later and your entire life had exploded. He cheated on you. Whilst you were away, no less. And then, as if it would magically make everything better, proposed instead of telling you.

The look on your then-husband's face when you stormed up to him demanding to know the truth was enough to convince you of the reality of your friend's words. You could now admit, amidst all of the hurt, anger and disgust you felt towards Daejung at that moment, your overriding emotion was utter panic at the thought of having to tell all of your guests that the wedding was to be stopped and annulled. A trivial emotion amongst the personal grief you were experiencing, but undoubtedly the cause of your greatest distress at the moment.

You didn't see Seungcheol as or after it all happened. Any pretence of calm instantly slipped the moment you began speaking to your family and friends - a speech which ended with you in floods of tears being escorted away from the hosts of shocked guests. It was only hours later that you realised that you hadn't said goodbye and, worse, that you'd invited him all of this way just to witness the shitshow that was your failed marriage. Too ashamed to burden him further, you chose not to write to him for months afterwards He gave you space too, and you weren't sure if you felt grateful for it or utterly alarmed that he may just never want to speak to you again.

May 6th 2021

Dear Seungcheol,

I'm deeply sorry for my complete silence, although I suppose I do not need to explain to you the reason for it. My hand has been itching to pick up my pen and write to you every month that goes by, but only now have I overcome my own shame and disgrace to do so. First of all, I have to sincerely apologise for making you waste your time coming to such an awful event. I can only hope that you managed to get a slice of cake before it all fell apart so that I could at least offer you the condolence of a delicious snack. I also must apologise for completely abandoning you during your trip to the city. I was really looking forward to showing you my favourite spots, and I let my own misery get in the way of being a good host.

I hope you are well. As I haven't heard from you in a little while, I don't know what's going on with you so I have little to comment on. But, at the very least, I wish for your good health and general happiness. If you are worried about me, you don't need to be. I have taken the last few months to put my life back together, and I feel like I'm making better progress these days - hence the letter writing. I'm thinking of getting a dog for companionship since I have vehemently sworn off men for the foreseeable future.

I also wanted you to know that I treasure your gift. As it turns out, meeting you and getting a meteorite was the best part of that night, if you'll believe it. I have it kept in a special box on my desk just to make sure that it's safe and that I'll never lose it. I wish I could have given you something in return. If we end up meeting again I'll have to start planning now to make sure my gift is just as good as yours was. Speaking of, you are welcome to come and stay with me any time you want, and we can rain-check that city tour. Alternatively, if you want to ignore this letter and never speak to me again, I'd also understand.

Yours truly,

(Y/n) 2021

May 19th 2021

Dear (Y/n),

I'm so glad to have heard from you, and that you are doing okay. As much as I appreciate all of your apologies, none of them are necessary. If anything, I feel that I should be apologising to you for leaving you in the dark for just as long as you left me - you had a much better excuse too. Although I didn't want to overwhelm you with letters after such awful news, I realise now that leaving it so long was not the right course of action.

I think getting a dog is a fantastic idea. Company is something you'll never lack with a dog around, and I can agree that dogs are much better companions than men.

As for me, I am doing well too. It's mostly just been a cycle of work and sleep, so I haven't got much to report, but I'm hoping for a more eventful summer. Visiting the city would be a wonderful way to achieve this, so perhaps closer to the time I'll write again to arrange coming to stay with you. I would love to see you again soon. My only other news that I know you'd be interested in is that Jeonghan has seemingly met someone. He's keeping all of the details close to the chest, so I'll have to update you in the next letter when I know more, but it's an exciting revelation. He seems very happy, which is all I can hope for.

When I told you that I wouldn't stop writing to you until I could no longer hold a pen in my hand, I meant it. I hope that you will never again think that I wouldn't want to speak to you -it's the highlight of my day.

Yours,

Seungcheol

P.S. I'm sure you don't want to talk about the wedding, but just so you know - he was a fucking fool to let you go.

You remember the relief you'd felt at getting that letter. The uncertainty of whether or not Seungcheol still wanted to talk to you was enough to keep you on edge for the entire 13 days that it took for you to get his response. But, as always, your friend was reliably there for you.

The time you'd taken over those last new months, and the few months afterwards had been tumultuous, but cleansing. In your post-marriage clarity, you'd realised all of the opportunities you'd missed because of Daejung. Deciding that you wouldn't let him take anything else from you, you'd arranged to go on a long excursion you'd waved off for wedding planning when you'd first heard about it. Learning about the project from one of your old professors who'd transferred to Cairo University, you were offered a position on the ongoing expedition in Saqqara. Although Egyptology was not your speciality, your master's dissertation on the mummified scarab beetles found at Saqqara in 2018 and your tutor's reference got you onto a low-level position on the expedition.

Six months in Egypt had been exactly what you needed to move on from Daejung. At that time, your relationship with your closest friends was also on the rocks, and it was really only Seungcheol and your family that you missed during your time abroad.

December 23rd 2021

Dear Seungcheol,

I've finally got some time off over the holiday break, and I'm ready to give you the download of everything that's happening here in Saqqara! But, first, I'm going to have to beg you for the details of your double date with Jeonghan and Jooyeon. How was it!? Was Jooyeon's friend nice? Were there sparks? How many times did Jeonghan bring up embarrassing stories about you as a kid?

I hope it went well - you deserve all of the happiness in the world.

Now, onto the important stuff!

I'm not sure if you saw on the news, but we've made some pretty huge finds since I got here, Obviously, I can't give myself all the credit, but just being part of the team that made it happen is pretty incredible. We've found multiple tombs of dignitaries from the reign of Ramses II. I'm doing a bit of research on one of the tombs, belonging to a military leader called Hor Mohib, but I have to keep taking breaks every 20 minutes to pinch my arm and remind myself that this is reality.

My Arabic has gotten significantly better now - I was rather rusty when I first got here. I'm able to have reasonably complex conversations with the Egyptian members of the team and the locals helping out, and it's pretty cool for my nerd brain to be surrounded by a group of people equally as excited to be digging up ornamental graves as I am.

I'm really glad I came. It's hard to admit, even to you, but my life really fell apart after the wedding. Honestly, I didn't even know if I wanted to keep working in archaeology or if I wanted to jet off to Iceland and buy a farm. And the worst bit is that it's been so lonely since. Losing Daejung was one thing, but I haven't spoken to Jiwoo or Mirae since. I can't bear to look at them knowing that they hid that secret from me for so long. Maybe one day I'll be able to forgive them, but it certainly won't be now. Your letters have been my only sanctuary of human connection in these past few months, and that's something I'll have to add to my list of neverending gratitude I hold for you.

I realize now that I haven’t been very good at expressing how much your friendship means to me, how it's been my lifeline in this mess. Your letters are the only constant, the only thing that feels like home even when I am surrounded by ancient wonders and new colleagues.

And so, I have a confession. I want to see you again. I want to tell you all of this in person. I can't say what will come of it, but I know that after all of these years, after all the letters and confessions and secrets shared, we owe it to ourselves to meet in a way that isn't rushed or overshadowed by anything else.

Maybe we could meet halfway between Seoul and Daegu, or I could take the train down to visit you? I need to see you again, not as a guest at my ruined wedding, but as Seungcheol, the one person who’s known me at my best and worst, and still chooses to write back.

Let me know what you think.

Yours truly, 

(Y/n)

P.S. I've included a small rock I found on the dig - nothing special but it reminded me of our old conversations. I hope it makes you smile.

P.P.S. Please don't feel pressured to say yes, but know that I would really like to see you again.

You can't quite recall what possessed you to write such a bold letter. Perhaps it had been the desert sun, the thrill of discovering something new in something old at Saqqara, or simply your immense loneliness.

Days had turned into weeks as you anxiously waited for a response, checking your makeshift mailbox daily. Then one morning, there it was—a simple white envelope with Seungcheol’s familiar sloping handwriting.

January 17th 2022

My Dear (Y/n),

I've thought about meeting you countless times since our first encounter. After reading your words, I realise that I've been waiting for this just as much as you have. How's this - I'll take the first train up to Seoul when you're back and we can spend the day together. No distractions, no interruptions - just you and me, finally getting to know each other beyond the pages of our letters.

I'm looking forward to me, more than I can express. Until I see you again, take care, and know that I'm counting down the days.

All yours,

Seungcheol

P.S. the best bit about the date was spending time with Jeonghan. No more needs to be said.

You stare down at the letter, your heart pacing as fast as it had the first time you'd received it. Beautiful words from a beautiful man with a beautiful soul.

You'd gotten back to Seoul by the end of March 2022, and, as promised, Seungcheol came to visit you that first weekend in April. When he'd stepped off the train in the bustling station at the heart of the city, you were there to greet him. You'd spotted him standing there, taller even than you'd remembered, with that same easy smile that had always leapt off of the page.

The world around you had seemed to blur as you walked toward each other, nerves fluttering in your stomach but quickly dissolving as he pulled you into a gentle, lingering hug. The connection between you, once confined to words on paper, felt more real than ever.

You spent the day wandering through the city, visiting old bookstores, sipping coffee in quiet cafes, and talking as if no time had passed since that fateful wedding reception. Every shared laugh, every story swapped, deepened the bond you'd forged in ink.

June 14th 2022

Seungcheol,

It feels like only yesterday that we were wandering through Seoul together, but at the same time, it feels like a lifetime ago. I keep finding myself replaying that day in my mind - how easy it was to talk to you in person, as if we'd done it a hundred times before. It's strange, isn't it? How someone can feel so familiar, even when they're a whole new experience at the same time.

I've been thinking about our conversation in the bookstore. You said something about how some stories are better left unfinished, that sometimes the best part of a tale is imagining what could be. I can't stop thinking about that - about how some stories do need an ending, and how others are meant to keep going, even if we don’t know where they’ll lead.

There's something I've been meaning to tell you, but I haven't found the right words yet. I guess I'm still figuring it out myself. It's just that being around you feels different to how I expected. There's a comfort, yes, but also something more, something I can't quite define. It's like we're on the edge of something new, and it's exciting and a little terrifying at the same time. I'm not sure if you feel it too, but I hop you do.

Anyway, I don't want to get too ahead of myself as usual. I'm just really glad we've reconnected, and that we've managed to keep in touch after all these years. 

It means more to me than I can say. Let’s make sure our next meeting isn’t too far off—I’m already looking forward to it.

Until then, take care of yourself, and don’t work too hard. I’ll be watching the clock until I see you again.

Yours, 

(Y/n)

That day in April 2022 hadn't been the last time you saw Seungcheol. You'd made that mistake once in the past, and neither of you was willing to do so again. He continued to come to Seoul to see you, and you travelled down to Daegu to meet him and his friends. Your letters ceased for a while over this time due to the frequency you were seeing each other, but for the first time that didn't bother you.

You remember, with teary eyes, the day that you finally confessed your feelings.

It was 25th September 2022, after a whole summer spent together, and the air was tinged with the first hint of autumn's chill. THe leaves were just beginning to turn, painting the streets in warm hues of amber and crimson as you walked side by side in a quiet part in Seoul. The easy laughter and conversation that had marked your friendship over the years felt heavier that day, as it something unspoken was lingering in the crisp air between you.

You had spent countless days together that summer - visiting museums, trying new restaurants, even embarking on a spontaneous week trip to the coast. Each moment with Seunngchaeol had felt like a dream, a slow realisation that your heart was no longer just content with friendship. But with that realization came a fear you hadn't expected. What if this was enough for him? What if risking everything by confessing how you truly felt would unravel the beautiful bond you had spent so many years cultivating?

That evening, as the sun dipped low on the horizon, casting long shadows across the park, you found yourselves sitting on a bench overlooking a small pond. The water was still, reflecting the fiery colours of the sky, and for a long moment, neither of you spoke. Seungcheol had been quieter than usual that day, his expression pensive as if he, too, was wrestling with unspoken thoughts.

You felt your heart pound in your chest, each beat louder than the last as you tried to summon the courage to speak. The words were caught in your throat, but the fear of losing him if you didn’t say them was stronger. Finally, unable to hold it in any longer, you turned to him, your voice trembling as you broke the silence.

"Seungcheol," you began, your hands nervously fidgeting in your lap. He turned to look at you, his eyes soft and attentive, encouraging you to continue. "There’s something I need to tell you… something I’ve been feeling for a while now."

His gaze didn’t waver, but you noticed the slight hitch in his breath, the way his fingers tightened slightly around the edge of the bench. The world seemed to shrink to just the two of you, everything else fading away as you gathered your thoughts.

"I—" You paused, trying to find the right words, but there were none that seemed adequate to express the depth of your feelings. "I think I’ve fallen in love with you."

The admission hung in the air between you, a fragile confession that you could no longer take back. For a moment, time seemed to stop, the world holding its breath as you waited for his response. You searched his face for any sign of what he might be thinking, every second feeling like an eternity.

Then, without a word, Seungcheol reached out, his hand gently cupping your cheek, his thumb brushing away the tear that had escaped down your cheek. There was a tenderness in his touch, a warmth that radiated through you, calming your racing heart.

"I’ve been waiting to hear those words," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Because I’ve been feeling the same way for a long time too."

His words washed over you, a wave of relief and joy so overwhelming that you felt your breath hitch. You had been so afraid, so uncertain, and now, with his quiet confession, all those fears melted away. He leaned in slowly, giving you time to pull back if you needed to, but you didn’t. You closed the distance between you, your lips meeting his in a gentle, tender kiss that felt like a promise—one of many yet to come.

Hearing the doorbell ring down below you, and the sound of your husband's voice calling out to say he'll get it, you rush forward to reach your favourite letter - just one more before you return to reality.

November 3rd 2023

My dearest (Y/n),

I'm so glad you're having such a good time in Rome - I'm rather jealous of all of your sightseeing and pasta-eating. Kkuma and I are holding the fort down at home, although I had to be scolded yesterday for breaking the toaster when I tried to make Kkuma some breakfast. I sent some more suncream over in the mail because I know you've already run out and forgotten to get some more - I'm not sure if this letter will reach you first, but if it does look out for the parcel.

Now, I'll admit, the main purpose of my letter is something a little different than simply catching up, as much as I love those letters too. I thought about doing this once you returned home, but you've already had one man declare his everlasting intentions to you after you returned from an excursion, so I thought it better to avoid rehashing those memories (we'll do this again when you're home, but I thought it might be fun to do it this way).

If you have the suncream box already, then you may have a sneaking suspicion of what I'm about to say.

I've loved you for as long as I've known you. As a twelve-year-old kid, I didn't know that was what it was, but the level of obsession I had with writing to you and receiving your replies was beyond any normal friendship. You were always so fascinatingly cool, out of reach, and genuinely yourself. Being in love with your pen pal isn't always an easy thing - the cold sweats I would wake up to after dreaming about meeting for the first time, the constant updates about a life that I wasn't a part of, the announcement of your engagement to another person. I tried to pretend it wasn't real for a long time, see other people, because of how silly I felt about being in love with someone I'd never met.

And then I saw you standing there, in that beautiful white gown with your hair up and that gorgeous smile on your face. Did you know that my hands were sweating when I gave you that gift? I don't think I've ever told you that before. I became certain then that I was completely screwed. Entirely head over heels.

I'll never be happy that that marriage didn't work out for you - all I've ever wanted is your happiness, be that with me or someone else. But I won't lie and say that nothing has made me happier than the consequences of it.

This past year has been the happiest time I've ever known. Every moment with you is filled with such joy, and every moment without I'm left with a record of memories to remind me of the time we've had together. When I look at you, I don't just see my past, but also my future. I see a lifetime of shared experiences, of laughter, or quiet moments that mean more than words ever could. I see us growing old together, supporting each other, and playing trash hockey on the wooden floor of our kitchen.

You are my best friend, my partner, the love of my life. And I want to spent every day making sure you know just how much you mean to me.

So, that being said, will you (Y/n) (Y/l/n), do me the honour of marrying me?

All yours,

Seungcheol

P.S. Please don't feel pressured to say yes, but know that I would really like it if you did.

You fiddle with the precious ring on your left hand, your fingers lingering over the smooth chunk of dark stone in the centre.

A gentle brush of a hand on your shoulders brings you back to the real world, tears now flaking on your cheeks as you sniffle at the words on the page.

"Are you okay, darling?" Seungcheol asks gently.

"Yes, sorry, I know the guests are here now - I just wanted to look at these," You reply, holding up the letters for your husband to see.

You watch his expression soften, a suggestion of moisture in the corner of his eyes as he looks over the written words.

Swooping down, he places a long, loving kiss on your forehead, letting your bodies rest together in harmony for a moment.

"I can't believe they still make me cry," You huff, letting out a soft laugh. "And I don't even think I can brush it off as hormones."

"Seeing that just looking at them has me tearing up, I don't think I can either." Seungcheol smiles, stroking the back of your hair affectionately.

"They're probably getting antsy downstairs, right?" You say, beginning to pile the letters back up into the box.

Standing up, you lean forward to press all of your passion and adoration onto your husband's lips. You can feel his intensity matching yours, his hands finding the side of your hips to keep you stable.

"They can wait," Seungcheol replies, his forehead leaning softly against your own. "They're not the ones who are pregnant after all."

You laugh, a sound filled with both joy and contentment, feeling the warmth of his love surrounding you. "I suppose you're right," you say, a smile spreading across your face. You take one last glance at the box of letters, a testament to the incredible journey you've both shared—one that began with innocent childhood exchanges and blossomed into a love story more profound than you could have ever imagined.

Hand in hand, you and Seungcheol make your way downstairs to greet your guests, the letters safely tucked away in their satin box. As you step into the room, you know that no matter what the future holds, you'll always have those words, those memories, and most importantly, each other.

[soupinaboot]

Fuck it. Every Steve Harrington headcannon I have because I've been rotating that boy in my head like a pig on a stick Part 2 this is a little more in depth than the first one but only by a smug

- Epileptic, either since he was young or developed it over time due to all those concussions he keeps getting

- Favorite fruit is blackberries I have no reason

- Kinda sad but he never really had friends, yeah he hung out with Tommy and Carol but that was about it. Like after the fall out with them he was by himself, alone. I feel like if he was as popular as we think he is, he would have at least one other friend right?

- Does not have a filter at all. That one scene where he just casually says, "Oh yeah my parents are out of town because my mom doesn't trust him to not cheat on her any who!" and I feel like he just kinda does that

- Star Trek fan but he just does not comprehend that it's supposed to be nerdy (this is not my own I saw someone else headcannon this please tell me if you find them I can not)

- Absolutely sucked at ELA, could be cause of dyslexia or not whatever you want buttercup

- But on the topic of dyslexia, this headcannon is one of the main reasons why I love math nerd Stevie so much. Like, ELA test and History test are mostly long paragraphs that he needs more time to read through and his teachers don't care enough to give him extra time like he needs. But math tests tend to have a small paragraph that he can read faster or just focus on the numbers and finish on time, so he just got really good at math so he would have at least one class he passed

- Survives off of coffee, lord knows he needs it

- My most random headcannon is that since his parents were never really around or cared much for his safety, he used to hang out outside a lot and explore the wildlife around, got really into nature and animals, bought nature books etc. But his dad told him nature and animals were girly and forced him to stop even though he really loved it

- If he does ever go to college (which he doesn't have to, though if Robin went he would probably go with her), he would either get in education major and become a math teacher or some form of environmental degree

- His love language is quality time

- Among the three of them, Steve and Carol were the closest. Yes, Steve and Tommy met first, and yes they tend to call each other their best friends, but in actuality Carol and Steve were best friends. They have mean girl energy.

- He used to also play hockey when he was younger but stopped playing due to scheduling and shit. But he really liked it cause whenever he would practice there were these older figure skaters who would teach him figure skating (he kinda liked it more than hockey but he never told anyone)

- Speaking of scheduling, he is always tired due to his packed schedule. Since he was young, his dad forced him into a lot of sports and didn't really give him a break. Add that to his piano lessons, his jobs, studying that his dad forced him to do, friends, etc... he is just perpetually tired. And it fucked up his sleep schedule developing into insomnia as he got older

- Most of his and Eddie's dates are just them taking naps

- Once he meets Corroded Coffin they all become best friends. Like best fucking friends

- Specifically Steve and Jeff